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singtotheskiies · 3 years

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“how are you so perfect?!” // karl jacobs fluff alphabet

a/n: the mcyt brainrot continues so i am coping with the fluffiest karl hcs my brain can summon,,,,,,, i am affection-starved send help please

summary: a look into the abcs of dating the one and only sweetheart karl jacobs!!! (fluff alphabet template by @snk-warriors)

activities - what do they like to do with their s/o? how do they spend their free time with them?

karl loves doing literally anything and everything with you; he just loves your presence and company so much!! whether it’s late-night target runs, playing minecraft together, or just collapsing into your arms after a long, late-night stream, being with you instantly lifts his mood.

beauty - what do they admire about their s/o? what do they think is beautiful about them?

while karl appreciates and adores everything about you, i can definitely see him being a sucker for your eyes. he loves how they sparkle in certain lights, how big and happy they are when you’re looking at him, how they crinkle when you laugh, and how your pretty eyelashes flutter against your cheeks when the two of you cuddle. he often finds himself getting all blushy when you guys maintain prolonged eye contact:)))) i think he’d also love your hands and shoulders too!!

comfort - how would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

karl is no stranger to anxiety and is incredibly empathetic. the combination of these two things makes him the BEST person to have around when you’re not feeling good. if you’re sad, he’ll instinctively know just what to do to put a smile on your face again. he’ll crack stupid jokes or put on music and dance with you—anything to make you happy. if you’re anxious, he’ll talk softly to you and, if you’re feeling up to it, will hold you so you can safely come down from your panicking. he’ll definitely cradle the back of your head with his hand as he holds you close, just breathing with you.

dreams - how do they picture their future with their s/o?

karl is definitely the type to fall hard relatively quickly in a relationship. thinking about the future is sometimes scary for him, but with you in the picture, he finds it less threatening—beautiful, even. he doesn’t know exactly how he wants everything to turn out, but he does know that he wants you by his side through all of it.

equal - are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

equality in a relationship is INCREDIBLY important to karl. he respects you so much and wants to make sure that your opinions and ideas are heard. the two of you 100% thrive on mutual communication and input.

fight - would they forgive their s/o easily? how do they fight?

i don’t see karl as the type to get upset easily; he’s pretty chill and is very forgiving since he hates conflict. i can see the odd argument popping up if he’s tired or stressed and accidentally snaps at you, but he’d be clinging to you five minutes later and begging for forgiveness (which, of course, you can’t resist giving him—he has an unfair amount of cute privilege).

gratitude - how grateful are they in general? are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

karl is sweetie #1 and never fails to appreciate the people in his life (or let them know). you could get him a monster from the fridge and he’ll literally pepper your face with kisses while chanting “thank you thank you thank you” like you just saved his life or something. he’s such a cutie and never fails to show you just how much he appreciates everything you do:)))

honesty - do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? or do they share everything?

as i said before, karl thrives on communication. however, he’s often hesitant to tell you when he’s feeling down or upset. even though he knows you probably wouldn’t mind, he doesn’t want to drag you down or burden you with his problems. his tell for feeling down is getting really quiet, so if you notice this, a few gentle questions will get him to open up to you. he’s working on being more open because you always help him feel so much better!!

inspiration - did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? ex: trying out new things or helping them overcome personal problems?

without a doubt, you have both changed each other for the better!! he’s helped you appreciate the little things and the quiet companionship that so many people take for granted. he’s also been a huge constant and has helped you through tough times. you’ve been a huge calming-yet-brilliant force for him and have taught him that good things always come in time. y’all are really an unstoppable pair and mean so much to the other!!

jealousy - do they get jealous easily? how do they deal with it?

karl doesn’t get jealous as much as he gets insecure. if he’s feeling uncomfortable, he’ll just get super quiet. after all, who is he to stop you from having fun?? maybe you’re better off with this person in the moment,,,, anyway, you’ll have to make it up to him with a cuddle session and reassuring him about how much you love him between soft head kisses:)))

kiss - are they a good kisser? what was the first kiss like?

karl’s kisses are LOVELY—soft and sweet with his hands gently cupping your cheek or jaw or even holding your own. he just loves being able to feel you and be close to you. the first kiss probably happened during a cuddle session—he would just be so caught up in your presence and softness and scent that his face would move closer to yours without him even trying. you’d make soft, shy eye contact for a brief moment before his mouth met yours. help he’s so cute ajcividiahhdjfd

love confession - how would they confess to their s/o?

god, he’s SUCH a cheeseball—he’d either do it on your birthday, delivered with a shy smile and giant bouquet, or just blurt it out of nowhere at 2am while the two of you are tired and slap-happy out of your minds. either way, he says it with such hushed reverence that your heart forgets how to work for a few minutes. so many kisses after;))))

marriage - do they want to get married? how would they propose? what would the marriage be like?

like i said earlier, karl can get a bit overwhelmed when thinking about the future. however, he does know that he wants the utter joy you bring him every day to keep going. he likes the idea of a small, pretty wedding with the people you’re closest with, but he’s also fine with just enjoying what you have. as long as he gets to be with you he’s happy:)))

nicknames - what do they call their s/o?

i get the vibe that he’d call you by your first initial or “baby” when he wants to be more casual (but he somehow imbues “baby” with so much meaning,,,,, hhhh). uses “sweetie” sometimes and also “honey” after you’ve been in a relationship for a while. basically just uses the absolute CUTEST names,,, they come naturally to him bc he loves you so much:’))

on cloud nine - what are they like when they are in love? is it obvious to others? how do they express their feelings?

it is PAINFULLY obvious that karl’s in love with you. he’s always gushing about you to his mr. beast and minecraft friends, so full of fond stories that everyone groans at so much of a mention of your name (everyone secretly thinks it’s adorable tho). the two of you have had so many people compliment you on how cute of a couple you are—your joking, fond chemistry is palpable.

pda - are they upfront about their relationship? do they brag about their s/o in front of others? or are they rather shy to kiss, etc. when others are watching?

while it’s common knowledge karl’s love language is physical touch, he’s always considerate of your boundaries while the two of you are around others. he’ll likely keep pda to hand holding and an arm slung comfortably over your shoulder. it’s just enough to let you feel each other without being too clingy.

quirk - a random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

karl is super unselfish—meaning his closet, nail polish—and yes, even his prized monster energy drinks—are also yours. he truly believes that sharing is caring, and it makes him incredibly happy when you’re wearing one of his iconic sweaters or giving him a grateful smile as he hands you half of his taco bell order.

romance - how romantic are they? what would they do to make their s/o happy? cliché or rather creative?

karl is a complete angel and always puts others first, meaning he’s an absolute GOD when it comes to romance. he’s always laughing and joking with you, and he never runs out of fun things for the two of you to do. at the beginning of your relationship, he’ll stick to the tried-and-true formulas of giant teddy bears, chocolate, and shared sweaters. as he gets to know you better, though, he’ll take pride in giving you super personal gifts and crafting special date nights he knows you’ll love. he’s the absolute sweetest:’’))

support - do they help their s/o achieve their goals? do they believe in them?

karl is your biggest fan first and your boyfriend second. he never fails to cheer you on every step of the way and remind you just how incredible you are when you’re struggling. he truly believes you can do anything—he is an angel. an ANGEL.

thrill - do they need to try out new things to spice out their relationship? or do they prefer a certain routine?

the two of you have a happy, comfortable rhythm in your relationship. however, you guys definitely try things together. watching a new cartoon, trying a quirky restaurant, or doing weird challenges with each other on stream never feels too much like stepping out of your comfort zone since the two of you are so in sync. even if something backfires, you’ve got the safety net of the other person to catch you.

understanding - how well do they know their partner? are they empathetic?

karl has incredible amounts of emotional and interpersonal intelligence. he believes in the innate dignity and beauty of all people, and LOVES getting to know every single bit of who you are. he’s completely committed to you, and is the perfect person to help you with whatever you’re going through.

value - how important is the relationship to them? what is its worth in comparison to other things in their life?

he considers your relationship to be the best part of his life. you’ve been with him through so much, and looking back, it’s incredibly clear just how much your presence in his life has changed him for the better. he loves you so much!!!!!

wild card - a random fluff headcanon.

karl often rants happily on and on about his newest cartoon or gaming obsession while the two of you are cuddling. he’s just so cute, and more often than not you’ll end up kissing all over his freckled cheeks and soft hair. he melts into you like a cat and the two of you just breathe the other in with pure contentment:))))) send help y’all are so cute:))))

xoxo - are they very affectionate? do they love to kiss and cuddle?

this goes without saying, but karl is a cuddlebug supreme. if you’re not super into cuddling, he’ll understand but try and ease you into it so that he can love you the way he really wants to!! copious amounts of cuddles, kisses, and affection are central to his ideal relationship.

yearning - how do they cope when they’re missing their partner?

poor karl gets so lonely without you!! you’ll facetime him when you’re gone for even a night, and he’ll pick up wearing one of your sweatshirts. “miss me that much??” you tease, and he can only nod and pout. expect millions of wish you were heres and miss you babys and can’t wait to hug u agains spam texted to you. lots of snapchats of him giving puppy dog eyes to the camera and cuddling stuffed animals will also be sent. he can’t help it—he just adores you and is constantly pouting until you’re back.

zeal - are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? if so, what will they do?

you’re karl’s everything, and he’ll do anything to make sure that your relationship is happy, healthy, and beneficial for both of you. thankfully, though, he’s such a sweetheart that making sure things are running smoothly isn’t much of a task at all!!

#karl jacobs x reader #karl jacobs #karl jacobs imagine #karl jacobs headcanons #mcyt #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt headcanons #fluff alphabet #fluff #x reader #imagine #headcanons

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lustbile · 3 years

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The Journal

TenxReader

Word Count: 7.3k+

Summary/Warnings: Smut with plot, semi public, a lot of biting, mentions of supernatural and just general weirdness, and small amount of blood play

Apart of the Club X series: Masterlist (can be read alone or within the series, but unlike others it might just be the slightest amount confusing)

“So that’s what you’re into now,” your best friend’s voice is bored and distant, her task of wiping down the bar that stretched out in front of her taking a majority of her attention away from the babbling you’ve tried to subject her to since you entered the empty restaurant only about 20 minutes before, “weird demon sex clubs?”

—

“Ah ah, I never said they were demons,” you correct quickly, the thought of defending yourself never crossing your mind as you petulantly slap your hands against the polished wood, “I just said it was…. weird.”

“Weird is an understatement,” she scoffs quietly as she turns to dip her dirtied rag back into the bleach water and ring it out, “I mean look, I’ve always been supportive in the witchy stuff you’ve been into but this…. is a bit much.”

“I don’t see how this is any different than any other thing I’ve read into.”

“Oh you don’t see?” you finally manage to pull her attention towards you as she harshly slaps the rag back onto the wood with a stern glare pulled on her pretty features, “you’re talking about vulnerability and abandoned warehouses and public sex. That last one is definitely new.”

You fully expected this type of response, only hoping she’d be busy enough that you would dodge the motherly scolding she liked to give you when you pitched your schemes to her with your eyes wild and wide, but nevertheless, she was completely right.

It came from an old book, tattered and torn from being flipped through one too many times, that you found at your favorite antique store. The store itself was already notorious with your tight inner circle of friends as the creepy shop that was corrupting your brain, a constant taunt being that the little old woman that ran it was the actual devil and she was just waiting for the right time to jump you and eat you whole, but this did nothing to stop you from visiting at least once a week.

But the book, it was different from any other you had found. It was completely handwritten, including amazingly done sketches in a deep unfading ink, and spoke of outlandish things.

Some were easily brushed off, like a murder that happened in the 50’s that was known to stay in the mouths of the older folks, both to them and the book it was widely believed to be the doing of some long tongued and wild eyed creature, until a local sweet old man admitted on his deathbed that it was instead his one crime of passion.

He had been a young soldier that snuck into his lover’s room one night, and upon learning that she was to marry a nice lawyer the day after he was meant to deploy, his mind went blank and his hands were carving out her heart. He luckily escaped any questioning after being shipped off, and once he returned home he captured the heart of a pretty young girl and lived out a long life sitting on top of a horrid truth.

So yeah, stories of those sorts, having been solved in your lifetime, meant very little to you, but the one you were going on about now, meant the world.

The writing looked like it had been put down by a panicked chicken rather than the woman who’s name was written neatly in the front. It lived in some of the pages towards the back of the small book and spoke of a dark club. Club X.

She went on and on about stumbling across the club purely by accident, and meeting another woman with glittering eyes. Graphic details of being taken in the middle of the dance floor with a million eyes looking but not fully seeing her as she fell apart against a dancing and eager tongue made your heart thump lodged in your throat. But the more and more she visited the club, the more incoherent her words became, but towards the end the writing had become stained and obscured by a deep brown stain, before it stopped altogether.

Thankfully, the details of where the building was was completely visible regardless of being the thoughts of a mad woman, and with a lot of thinking and staring at the town map, you’ve come to believe that you knew exactly where the mysterious club stood.

Only a street down from the restaurant you sit in now.

“Listen, I know it sounds ridiculous, and it probably is, but what’s the problem with just going to check right?” you scramble to pull the delicate book from the bag that sits in the stool beside you as your friend moves closer and closer to where you sit, laying it flat to show her the page you’ve had bookmarked since you read it, “and look at the name she puts, I think it’s the man who ran it and it’s a long shot, but maybe he’s still alive, or if not maybe some family is! Right here, Asm-“

“Don’t say it again,” she’s quick to interrupt, sliding her free hand to hover above the page you’ve glued your eyes to, “I don’t wanna hear any old man names, especially that one it gives me the ick.”

“It’s just a name,” murmur to yourself, but move to put the book away regardless, “but anyways, I have something that most people who were going to the club didn’t, knowledge of what exactly I’m walking into. I can just go and look around, worst things worst its still a freaky sex club and I just go home, but I’m willing to bet this lady was just off the shits and its just an empty building with some funky vintage beer bottles that you can add to your collection.”

You feel like you’ve won an award you weren’t even trying to compete for when she finally breaks out into a soft smile. The huff that leaves her chest is endeared, and you swear your heart began to vibrate when she reached to run a gentle thumb across the swell from your cheekbone.

“Fine, do what you want, but if the bottle isn’t completely intact when you find it I don’t want it.”

“So you’re not coming with me?” your head tilts to the side in confusion as with things of this nature in the past, she’s always followed along to ensure that you didn’t do anything to stupid. You never felt like the company was fully necessary, but it was appreciated regardless.

“Baby, as much as I’ve enjoyed your info dumping you’ve done tonight, the other person that was meant to clean with me had to leave early with a stomach bug so I’m busy pulling a clean up job that’s truly a job for about five people. But you seem to really believe in this little adventure of yours,” she leaves the rag in a damp mass next to the stack of dirty glasses beside you to take your hands in her’s, her slightly wrinkled fingers are still warm and the way they lace with yours makes you feel like nothing in the world could hurt you, “besides, you’re as smart as a whip and I know you have me on speed dial. I trust you.”

——

You no longer love the feeling of being trusted.

When your friend had given you the heartfelt speech only a little over half an hour ago, you felt like you had been put on a nice pedestal before she handed you a cookie with a pat on the head.

Now the “cookie” had turned to rot in your belly and you were faced with your own perfectly dreamed up reality.

It was already late by the time you had walked into the restaurant your friend works at, the sun already setting and the last few customers gathering their things and paying the bills, so once you got her stamp of approval and we’re heading out the door, the only light left was a bright and full moon, and flickering street lights.

You took your time walking in the direction that your book and personal sleuthing had pointed you in, the closer and closer you got to the one warehouse in town that seemed to never be bought back from the city, the knots in your belly pulled tighter and tighter.

But regardless of the almost painful twist in your gut, you surprisingly almost missed the building in its entirety.

It was as if your entire being blocked out the thumping bass that shook the sidewalk and the blinding red light that spilled from beneath the entrance and out the fractured windows. Your brain trying to force itself from entering the building you spent so many weeks trying to locate.

But the way your heart thuds in your chest when you stand in front of the entrance is something you couldn't even pretend you didn’t feel.

Your tongue digs into the side of your jaw, and you're confused at the feeling of warm tears burning at your waterlines. It’s exactly the way the owner of the journal described it in her manic writings, weirdly exact considering the other stories that surrounded it that dated it back far before you were even born.

You want to go in, the shaking steps your legs take is evident to that, but the tense muscles of your shoulders and stomach makes you hesitate and even grumble out into the air.

You almost jump out of your skin when you hear a shuffling to your side, your throat tensing when you look over, and are put slightly at ease when you see two men who you assume are acting as some type of security. You almost expect them to look up and ask you for some type of ID when you’re being very weird and blatant about your presence, but they seem too preoccupied with the dim screens of their phones and the way they lean forward at different times as if they’re waiting for someone.

Your hands are shaking slightly as they scramble down to grab for your bag, desperately looking for something to occupy you to walk by them without being even more weird, and when your fingers wrap around the flaking leather that binds the book, you grab it like a lifeline.

Your fingers flip through the pages with perfect muscle memory as you trip up the few steps that lead to the door, the tabs you carefully placed on the first page mentioning the club not even necessary with the way you could find the page even in your sleep.

You subconsciously hold your breath when you walk past the two men, almost as if the book is instead something wildly illegal and you're trying to sneak past your parents, and your washed with a temporary wave of relief when you pass through the doors without even a glance from the two.

Though the relief is stolen from your bones the second your feet touch the floor of the club.

It’s as if you’ve entered a place you’ve known your whole life, and from the amazing descriptions from the woman in the past, its not a completely surprising feeling.

But another part of you feels like this is the first time you’ve seen human beings in the flesh.

You can't help but to feel like you must look like an absolute nerd as you pull the book up to your face as you start to survey the club, but thankfully the book told at least one truth, and many of the club goers are too busy grouping and grinding against one another to even acknowledge your existence.

More truths come to light as you flick your eyes between the pages and the walls.

The bar is still tucked in the same far corner as she described, the flittering red and blue lights making it feel like a beacon of calm regardless of it being surrounded by drunken forms and its intimidatingly pretty bartender.

The dj is just a stoic and unimpressed looking as the one from so many years ago as he subconsciously bobs to the beat that he creates as he messes with the nobs and switches in front of him. He’s actually so similar, you wonder if you were right and the owner did have family floating around, and maybe the dj is one of them.

You stumble further into the room as you pick out small details she wrote about so lovingly. Your legs carry you to the back of the building as you smile at the sight of the wine stain the writer claimed to have created when her lover shocked her with a playful bite to the neck.

You almost feel like the universe is gifting you everything you could have possibly asked for when you see the loose board that she said a friend of hers would always trip over, and electricity zips up your spine in excitement when you spots the large painting that still hangs over the booth she claimed as her favorite, and she meticulously sketched out next to a paragraph about what she thought the artist was feeling.

All these things though, lead to the things that make your jaw hang slightly open.

The large balcony above you is larger than you ever imagined. The hundreds of bright red carnations she loved to sketch drip from the golden bars like water, and the black velvet curtains that hang over the room it leads to look heavy enough that they suffocate someone if they fell.

She seemed so intensely in love with the place you stand in, and the woman she met there, and those emotions were more than evident from the way the recreated the energy of the club with her words and art. Which only tips you towards the part that caught your attention perhaps the most.

It was exactly where it was meant to be. Just below the balcony that hangs high on the wall, gaping wide and dark like the mouth of a hungry monster coaxing you to enter its throat. The only issue that you can see being the hanging rope that blocks you from entering, but with only shining bright clasps holding it onto hooks on the walls, you don’t think you're above sneaking past it with little guilt.

The hall was the one thing that taunted you the most about the story the woman spun in the little worn book. The empty and dark vass space being something that coaxed her as well, but unfortunately for you, and maybe her as well, the parts of her journal that began the tale of her passing the temping rope, was the exact spot that was stained with bleeding ink and a suspicious brown color.

You survey the space around you, looking for anyone that could possibly be a worker or just a stickler for the rules, but seeing as everyone in your range of vision was attached by the mouth on someone’s neck or sloppy lips, you figured you were in the clear.

You drop the book gently back into your bag before you step slowly forward. Your heart feels like a wild animal trying to break out of the cavity of your chest, and it feels like your intestines have been successfully replaced with writhing worms that are desperately trying to reach your gut. You feel heat traveling up your chest and neck, and as you get within a few feet of what feels like the end of your life, your body begins to shake.

If you had the ability, you would have screamed, and if you had the strength, you would have fought back. But right when you're about to reach the threshold of the hall, and right when you feel like your legs are about to collapse from underneath you, strong fingers clasp over your trembling mouth, and an arm wraps tightly around your waist.

You’re turned faster than you can blink, the sudden motion making your brain swirl in your skull and making you go lightheaded and dizzy. And while keeping their hand clasped tightly over your mouth, the person that cages you in slams your back into the cold wall and knocks the air from your lungs.

The eyes that meet you are cat-like and dancing wildly, the grin the man you're faced with now smiles at you wickedly, and when your hands dart up until your nails dig harshly into the skin of his forearms, his smile only widens.

“Now,” he starts, the remains of a chuckle shaking his chest and his words slightly, “what exactly are you up to?”

You wait for a moment for him to release you from his hold, and when after a minute or so he still hasn’t budged, all you can offer in response is an annoyed arched brow.

“What?” he has the audacity to ask with taunting sincerity, “you thought you were smart enough to go wandering around, so you should be smart enough to figure out a way to talk around my hand right?”

It’s with immense irritation that you realize the two possibilities you’re faced with.

From the book you know about the weird concept of soul mates or whatever they were meant to be. The woman and the mysterious dancing girl she met so many years ago, and similar stories from the friends she met during her many visits to the club who had almost identical tales that she had to recount.

So with that information you know the possibility of this grinning man being your person is high, but your person or not, he was lighting a fire in your chest regardless.

You don’t think or even weigh the negatives before you send him a hard glare, and you show very little hesitation when you push forward to sink your teeth into the first finger you can catch.

His yelp is covered by the blaring music, but you hear it loud and clear before he reaches his free hand up to pinch at the bridge of your nose to pull you off like a rabid kitten.

“You know what I’m up to,” you huff petulantly as you lean back into the wall with your arms folding over your chest, “or at least I’d assume you’d be smart enough to use your context clues right?”

His lip curls when he glances back up to you as he pets at his now bruising finger, but even with the thin veil of irritation on his pretty features, you can tell he enjoys the sarcastic tone you’ve adopted.

“Yeah you’re sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong,” he bites back as he steps closer, crowding your personal space and pushing his chest tightly against yours, “you’re lucky I’m who caught you and not boss man.”

“Boss man?” you ask, trying not to show you excitement over him spilling the treasured information about the club that you want so desperately.

He doesn’t answer you verbally, and the sly wink he throws at you shocks you more than you would like to admit, but when he tilts his head back quickly you don’t hesitate to follow his line of sight to the edge of the balcony.

If it weren’t for the thin wires of light that create hatching over his eyes and mouth, you probably would have missed the masked figure that leers at you from over the railing. His hands and shoulders are covered by the masses of flowers, and the hollow black where he hides his eyes stares down at you two with a look that you assume is annoyance and possible curiosity.

The moment you two look up, the figure jerks back. Your eyes flick quickly between him and the man in front of you, and from the bratty grin he wears as he looks up, you feel as if the masked man didn’t have any intention at being caught.

You get lost slightly in staring at the man pressed against you, his teeth that look sharper in the red lighting and his eyes twinkle in mischief, and even with the obnoxious start to your interaction, you’d be lying to say you don’t find him beautiful.

It takes you a second to regain your senses, tearing your eyes away from the fascinating side profile of the man, but when you glance back up to the balcony, the mask man has retreated back.

“He doesn’t like much when we take people back there before they’re ready,” he attempts at an explanation as he turns back to you, and seems unfazed when he misses the mark and just confuses you further, “he let the two goons outside have a little exception, but that's because they don’t know how to go easy y‘know.”

“No,” you shake your head at him with a quiet scoff, “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I think you know more than you think,” his voice drops as he speaks now, and as he speaks he reaches out his hand to hold himself propped against the wall next to your head while his other hand moves to run gently up the side of your neck, “I mean, you know who I am at least right?”

“I have an idea,” you admit with a huff, but you also admit to yourself that this probably means you won't be getting into the hall. You do mentally jot that down as a loss, but decide to take the man pressed against you as a win and you reach to grab at his shirt in retaliation, “but you could at least give me a name to work with.”

“Hm, I didn’t expect you to be one for such formalities,” his head tilts in amusement at his own words, and the action nudges the tip of his nose into yours and makes your heart flutter up into your throat, “but you might as well know the name of the man you’ll be destined to fall in love with.”

You roll your eyes hard enough for them to start to ache, and he quietly laughs and moves to press his nose into the soft flesh of your cheek as he feeds off your annoyance.

“Ten,” he answers quietly, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he moves to whisper the syllable in your ear, and you never thought that with just one word he’d have a shiver rushing up your spine.

You respond quietly with your name, but the word comes out strained and rushed when he begins to nibble on the lobe of your ear and pushes his knee harshly between your thighs.

Both your hands now hold tightly onto the sides of his shirt, and when his lips move to trail against the side of your neck that isn't enveloped by his hand, you tug roughly at the fabric and your back arches slightly away from the wall.

His tongue is hot when he lays it flat on the center of your throat, and when he swipes it up until it flicks against the end of your chin, you can't help but cringe slightly at the feeling regardless of the way it makes heat pool in between your thighs.

The wicked grin on his face never falters, it only grows wider and more hungry when your eyes meet again, and with his staring so deep that you fear he may be collecting every ounce of your soul, you two have a silent agreement on the unnatural waves of electricity that connect you.

When his lips finally land on yours, it's the roughest and clumsiest kiss you’ve experienced. Both of you fight each other with hungry and eager tongues and the way your teeth gently knock together has your skull rattling in a way that, if you weren’t so hell bent of devouring each other whole, you’d probably have to take a breather.

Your hands reluctantly release the wrinkled fabric of his shirt, and in a desperate attempt to stay occupied, they shoot up the tangle tightly into his hair. You admit, you probably tug harsher on the strands than you probably should, but the groans he pours into your mouth, and the way his hips rock roughly into yours, has you tugging again and again.

He presses you further and further into the wall, and without thinking your hips begin to kick and tilt down until you're grinding harshly and sloppily against his tense thigh.

You let out a quiet whine that's muffled and garbled by his moving at the feeling of him pressing his thumb gently into the dip beneath your jaw, and pressing into your jugular. The sound is followed almost immediately by a small yelp when he latches his teeth to your bottom lip and gives you a stinging bite.

You’re frustrated almost immediately with the lack of friction you can feel from the layers of clothing between you, and now the slight shooting pain from the tensing skin between his teeth, you can feel the impatience in your belly crawling up and invading your chest and throat.

He’s quick to pull away when you retaliate with your own nipping bite to his top lip, your teeth still sinking down when he does and making his sting probably just as much as yours. And when he eyes you as his eyelids droop down into an accusatory squint, you assume he’s not used to getting a taste of his own medicine.

He mutters something to himself about your feistiness, and a sly comment about how he shouldn’t be surprised as he was expecting to get a handful, but he gives you no time to make a snide comment or even question about any of the words, before his fingers are closing firmly but loosely around your neck.

He keeps you rooted in the spot that you stand, the only change in your posture he allows is pulling you slightly away from the wall, just wide enough for him to slink behind you and tug you roughly back into his chest.

“You like poking around into business that isn’t yours?” he asks rhetorically as his free hand reaches around your shoulder to push past the neckline of your shirt, and right as he pressed down the center of your chest and his fingers brush the bottom of your rib cage, his fingers curl and he starts to drag his blunt nails up your sternum as he continues, “need to know and see every single little thing right? So… what’s the harm of being on the other side of it for once?”

“What are you on about?” you as sharply as you try to turn your face towards him the best you can, but his hand tilts under the bottom of your chin until your head is forced to lean on his shoulder and he’s nothing but thrilled at the way it makes you struggle.

“To be seen, or not?” he presses his lips back against the shell of your ear, and the way he whispers roughly makes you shiver again as your thighs press tightly together, “you know what I mean, and you know the answer I want, but its all up to you in the end.”

The electric and slightly humiliating buzz of being seen in a mass of bodies committing the same sins as you was something the woman in the book went on about frequently. She mentioned that there were a few times where she and her lover snuck off to get alone time of course, but the almost blinding pleasure that came from being worshiped by not only one person, but the eyes of an entire room, was addictive. And you wanted just a taste.

You grumble in response, the idea of admitting to the already confident man that you did indeed wanted the same amount of attention as he did made your chest burn even more than it already was, and you’d rather take your chance with his terrifying looking boss than to give him the satisfaction of your verbal confession.

He seems unaffected by your nonverbal confirmation, the way you press into him as his hand wraps around your waist again and creeps down to the button of your shorts, and your own hand grabbing onto the sleeve of his rolled up long sleeve shirt to guide him to undo the clasp or just dip below the waistband, is enough of an answer for him to know.

He chooses to pop the button, and once he has the zipper pulled down enough that he can work with, he begins to shove the worn denim down your hips along with your underwear until they are wrapped around your knees and he can push his fingers roughly between your thighs.

You try to clear the fog that he creates in your mind from his teasing fingers long enough to reach your free hand back to give the same treatment to the dark jeans that wrap tightly around his hips and thighs in a way that had you mentally drooling from the moment you got to get a full look at him, after he ambushed you of course.

You’re not sure how he undid your shorts so quickly without being able to see, but as you fumble and scratch your nails against the sensitive skin of his hip, you give yourself the benefit of the doubt seeing as your trying to work while his middle and ring fingers tease over your entrance and the heel of his hand presses clumsily into your neglected clit.

He, on the other hand, doesn’t give you any benefit of the doubt. He at least has the decency to press his lips across your cheekbone and temple to muffle his quiet laughs, but to make your task even more difficult, his fingers shallowly curl up into you just enough to make you twist and curl.

Once the button of his jeans finally releases, you instinctively let out a huff and sink your shoulders back into his chest as you reach past the fabric to wrap your hand around his stiff length and pull it from the confines until you can press it against his lower belly. And you get just one tally on your side of the boards you’ve created in your mind when his amused laughs devolves into pleased grunts and tilting hips.

“Please,” you start quietly, trying to rock more against the parts of his hand that press against you while running your palm up and down the length of him and smearing him with his own pre come, “I can tell you’re just as impatient as me.”

He swears in your ear, using his hold on you with both hands to shift your hips up and pull you closer before he clears his throat to speak, “well could you imagine, looks like we are a match made in heaven.”

“More like hell,” you retaliate, digging the heel of your own palm into the skin just below the tip of him to egg him on even further, “but either way, that's the point isn't it?”

“I should have expected you to be just a little bit of a smart ass,” he mutters a half hearted complaint, but he only contradicts his own words when he pushes your hips away enough for you to guide him between your thighs and to glide against the arousal that spilled from your body and his hands spread messy along any available inch of skin.

He thrusts smoothly against your back a few times, bringing his arm down to guide him towards your entrance painfully slow, but when you let out a gravely moan of his name, he cant deny himself for any longer, and he’s sinking into you until your eyes start to gently flutter.

Once he’s seated inside you, his hand tenses slightly tighter around your neck, and when you both start pushing towards each other to meet in the middle of your thrusts, his other hand takes the opportunity to map any inch of you he can reach.

He gropes almost painfully at your chest, traveling over your stomach and up your shirt to dig his fingers into your skin until you swear he’s tattooed his finger prints onto you, all while nipping and lapping at the skin of your jaw and neck.

No one immediately in front of you is watching, they’re all in their own worlds of flesh and saliva, but you can still feel eyes of someone on you. His first and foremost as they burn holes into the side of your skull and glance to watch where you push back against him desperately, but there’s another feeling you get of being seen and studied thats so intense that you’re a little shocked when you chance a glance up and see that whoever the masked person was from earlier wasn’t there at all.

So no, you have no idea who, or what is watching you right now, but you can feel the unusual heat it stirs in you as your body flutters around him as he fucks you sloppily. You feel a deeper relation to the woman that owned the book that still rests in the bag that feel unceremoniously from your shoulder when he first put his hands on you, and you hope that maybe you’ll eventually slip into the life of bliss that she meticulously wrote about and possibly learn what happened that demolished the stories that lived in the back of the journal.

You could feel the pleasure crawling up your spine like a monster out creature, your panting breaths tipping the man that works you over off to this even though you’re sure he was already aware before you were, and you think your legs are back to the edge of collapsing when his creeping fingers dance along the expanse of your stomach to find their place back between your thighs.

Your back stiffens at the first touch of his rolling finger on your clit, and your head tilts even farther back onto his shoulder than he already had it. He doesn’t seem interested in coaxing you to your finish slowly, at a pace that would have mercy on your melting mind and shaking form, but he instead abuses your clit until your whimpering out and stumbling and stepping slightly on his toes.

You feel like you’re waiting out the suspense of a horror film that’s score is too obvious to the incoming jump scare. You tilt your neck in a way that seems normal to him, but in reality your trying to feel the many rings that decorate his fingers with the delicate skin of your throat to test if any of them could possibly be sharp enough to cut you and draw blood. You know what blood means to him, and you know it's something he’ll have to do soon if he truly can feel how close you are to the edge.

You feel like you’re floundering a bit, confused from the possible deviation from the story you’ve committed to memory. Was there any chance in this world that this wasn’t your person?

You push this thought away as soon as your panicked mind can construct it though, because there’s no way the spell that it feels has been placed on you would be there if that was the truth, and your body is heated almost like a furnace, but you suddenly love the idea of being burned by him.

You pull in a gasping breath of air that pierces through the music and grunting that rattles in your ears, the taste of your orgasms dancing on the back of your tongue and your back arching so harshly you fear that one of your muscles might seize up and cramp. And right when you feel his hips start to stutter in tandem with yours, and when you’re only seconds from blabbering out mixed syllables that you could only hope would come out as a coherent question, you feel it.

His teeth latch onto you again, his canines not sharp enough to make a clean cut as they dig into the muscle of your shoulder, but his determination is strong enough.

It burns painfully, and makes hot tears well up in your eyes, but almost embarrassingly, is the exact thing that pushes you scrambling over the edge.

You feel like it hurts to breathe, your lungs so focused on letting out puffs of air and broken moans that they can't seem to remember how to bring oxygen in, and your eyes roll for a completely new reason for the man and much more painfully.

It’s when you feel him start to suck the rushing blood from your newly christened wound that you also feel the rumble of his groans against your skin and feel him start to come inside of you. His fist tightens again around your neck as he pushes aftershocks through your nerves with his own orgasm, and with flying hands you grab at both of his wrists, not to ask in any way for him to ease up, but from a sudden wash and need to hold onto him possibly until you die.

He lets you collapse to the floor once he pulls out, but he follows your sinking form and sits alongside you and partially underneath you as you both try to catch your breath.

The club scene in front of you is now blurs of flashing lights and abstract writhing forms, and if it wasn’t for the zaps of energy you feel from every brush of his finger tips, your brain would probably be too muddled to register him fixing both your clothes and his.

You become just slightly more aware when he shifts your body against him enough to grab at the strap of your bag with the heel of his shoe, and you try to sit up faster than necessary and give yourself a small head rush when he pulls it to himself and flips it open.

“You seemed a little weirdly unaffected by the whole,” he flails his hands in front of you for a second as he speaks, and your lagging mind takes a second to catch up with his attempts at implication, “not the fucking part clearly,” he teases, “but the leading up to it. The meeting part and all.”

“I know what this place is,” you admit, and if your legs had gained just a bit more strength you probably would have stood and requested a glass of water just from how gravely your voice had become, “I knew I was probably going to run into you.”

“But you weren’t looking for me,” he tries, and fails, at hiding the slight edge of offense his voice shows, “if you knew I was here why didn’t you look for me?”

“I didn’t worry about it,” you say, warming up a bit again in the fear that it may have come off slightly rude, “or, like, I mean I knew you’d be able to find me easier than I could find you. I was more interested in finding answers.”

“Answers to what? You said you knew this place, or at least what it is?”

“Well I only know the basics,” you shift in his hold, knocking his hands away as they sift through your bag, and grabbing blindly until you can pull out the book, “I found this journal and it-“

“A journal?” he asks in a volume that could have been obnoxiously loud if it weren’t for the thumping bass that shook the floor beneath you, and pulls the small book from your hands.

“It was written by a woman who came here a long time ago,” you explain, deciding to not take offense to his rough and grabbing hands, “I found it and tracked the club down, I needed to see if it was real.”

“Oh it's real alright,” he laughs as he starts to flip through the pages, stopping for a moment to smile at a simple sketch she had done of a cat that she said lived in the back alley, “hey wait I think I know this name, and these people.”

“What are you on about?” you ask with a scoff as you tug the book from his grubby fingers, “you can’t possibly know these people, this was written in like the fifties. Stop pulling my leg.”

“Oh I see,” he smacks your thigh playfully as he leans over your shoulder to glance at the first page that mentioned anything about the date, the ink clear enough to read 1953 in the swirling handwriting, “you think you know everything.”

“I do know everything, fuck you,” you glare playfully at him over your shoulder, “or I would know, if you’d let me go into that weirdo hall.”

“No hall, for now at least,” he sighs, the gears in his head turning as he thinks of the next thing to say, “but you know, time doesn’t exist the same way here, the woman who wrote this probably didn’t know that at the time, so I’m not surprised you don’t either.”

“What do you mean time doesn’t exist?” you look at him as if he’s grown a second head, but do you really have the nerve to question him like that? Considering that entire concept of the club you are very aware of its existence now, a time situation shouldn’t be the most shocking should it?

“Well, it's hard to explai-“

“Then don’t explain it,” you almost jump fully out of his lap at the deep voice that rattles above you, and both him and you look up at the figure that looms over you now.

The man is tall, his black hoodie looking weird in contrast to the clothes of the other club goers, and with a squinting observation and a familiar and annoyed sigh from the man seated behind you, you realize you’re being stared down by the mysterious entity that is the DJ, his hands shoved deep into his hoodie pocket in annoyance.

“Huh?” Ten lets out more in the form of a noise than a word, as his arms wind tightly around your form.

“I said don’t explain shit,” the man begins to tap his foot in irritation as he speaks, and you wonder if he’s aware that he’s in rhythm with the song that surrounds you, “you need to chill out with the loose tongue, its bad enough we have the big mouths outside.”

“I wasn’t gonna go that far,” Ten sounds reminiscent of a scolded toddler, and considering the man is hindering you from getting information that you wanted so badly, you can feel yourself mirroring the pout he wears, “I know what I’m doing alright man? Why are you over here anyways, shouldn’t you be at your little booth minding your business.”

“No one minds their business over at that booth, and you should know that better than anyone pervert,” the words are sharp, but the curl to his lips and the underlying playfulness to his tone tells you the likeliness of them being friends is high, “anyways, I know we don’t follow any regulations or anything here, but I’m still gonna take a fuckin’ break or two.”

“Well breaks over,” Ten reaches out a hand to playfully swat the man away, “I didn’t wait this long for you to just interrupt my bonding time with my person alright?”

“Alright, alright,” he finally starts to shuffle away, throwing one last comment about Ten being bitter his person showed up first over his shoulder with a grin.

“What a loser,” Ten starts, looking at you playfully and rolling his eyes, “too bad he’s like my best friend or whatever.”

“You seem to have a lot of fun around here don’t you?” you take a shot at voicing your observations, your heart fluttering in a completely new way at the warm smile he shoots you.

“Just wait a see, my love. Just wait and see.”

#nct smut #ten smut #chittaphon smut #nct imagine #nct series #nct fic #ten imagines #ten oneshot #nct oneshot #kpop smut #wayv smut #wayv imagine #wayv oneshot

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myheelsdontmatchmysweatpants · 3 years

Text

“Good Little Girl”

Mezo Shoji x F!Reader

18+ minors DNI

Warnings: This is just pure smut, size kink? primal kink (probably) pretty tame overall

A/N : This is my first smut piece! I hope I get at least one person to simp for Mezo Shoji.

Also I'm an asshole and forgot to credit @sightoru and @tamakisbunnygirl for helping me out a bunch with this!

Hands, hands and mouths everywhere. Being touched and caressed, licked and sucked. You had to control the overwhelming urge to close your eyes and just concentrate on feeling, but you promised.

You promised to keep your beautiful eyes on his, admiring every feature on his handsome face. His skin soft and clear, his hair pushed back with a head band. You could just make out the tan line from the mask he wears regularly, his eyes locked on yours. You always loved his eyes, the iris a black so deep that you could swear it absorbed all light. You finally focus on the emotions swirling in that abyss, love and adoration covered in a heavy veil of lust. The look causes your pussy to clench on the tongue buried so deep it’s grazing your cervix.

Your eyes roll back, eyelids fluttering, mouth dropped open on a broken moan.

“Mezooo"

One of the mouths sucking on your nipples lifts up with a pop and chuckles.

"Aw poor baby Y/N, you did so good looking at me. I think you deserve a reward." Mouth going back on your nipple, Shoji lifts his head while slowly dragging out his tongue from your aching cunt. "What does my good girl want?"

A shiver runs down your spine from the praise; your pussy clenches around nothing. Mezo waits patiently while you try to put together your brain and answer.

"Please fuck me, I need it. I just wanna feel full. Please baby."

"As you wish."

As Mezo sits up, the mouths that were on your breasts remove themselves with a hum and a quick swipe of the tongue on each nipple. The hands holding your legs up by the knees gently set you down and the ones holding your hips travel up your body and cup your face.

"You look so pretty Y/N. All red faced and trembling, how many orgasms did you have?"

You don't answer, if he really wanted to know then he should have kept count his damn self. Your eyes must tell him exactly what your feeling because he doesn't wait for an answer.

Mezo eases your legs apart further and guides his cock to your puffy entrance. A hiss escapes your lips as he runs the head just outside, gathering the copious amount of slick to make sliding in easier.

You are sensitive, to say the least. The bruising forming on your hips gives you a faint idea as to how long he was going down on you. Another hiss drags out into a sob when he slaps his cock head on your tender clit a few times.

"My eyes are up here darling."

You take your time looking back up at Shoji. Your eyes slowly traveling from his full balls up the shaft just thick enough for the stretch to sting a bit when he pushes inside. Up the length of him to the tip that kisses your cervix. The toned hips, stomach, chest, both nipples glinting in the light from the barbell piercings. The strong jaw, a sultry menacing smile almost reaching ear to ear. When you finally get to his eyes you know yours are lust blown from exploring your lovers body.

"Like what you see?"

"Love it, always." You obediently put your arms above your head, wrists together so that he can hold them in one hand. Normally you like being a brat, but today you just need Mezo and you can tell he just needs you too.

You both let out moans as he slowly pushes his cock into your pussy. You relish the sting of him stretching you out while he focuses out the way your walls pull him in deeper. When he finally bottoms out you both still for a moment, looking into each other’s eyes. With Mezo hovering over you, you can’t help but feel so small and safe his arms blocking everything but him from view. With him fully seated inside of you his has to tilt his head, almost touching his chin to his chest to look at your face.

You clench down on him with your walls, growing tired of him not moving. He groans and pulls out of you agonizingly slowly before pushing back into you. He continues at that pace, no matter how much you try and push against him or beg him to go faster. After what feels like hours the constant dragging of his cock against your walls causes that knot to tighten.

“I’m – I’m gonna cum Mezo. Can I please cum?” You feel tears pool in your eyes and spill over, the desperation making your voice squeaky.

“Of course, darling you’ve been good.” He speeds up his thrusts, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes in your room. Before Mezo can finish his sentence the knot snaps and you are cumming all over his cock, trembling from head to toe. Tears steadily falling from your eyes as you come down from your high.

With a feral look in his eyes Shoji licks up your throat, following the path of your tears from the overstimulation. “You are mine.”

Tilting his head, he slowly opens his mouth and dips down. His whole mouth is around your throat and the faint prickling of his teeth throws you into another orgasm. The rhythmic clenching of your walls and the knowledge that his animalistic claiming is what made you climax sends him into his own. His moans vibrate against your throat and you can feel his saliva dripping down, his teeth scraping against your skin.

He continues fucking into you, drawing out both your orgasms. As you both stop moving, he gently lifts his mouth off your throat and pulls out of you with a groan.

As he crawls off the bed and pads over to the bathroom you steady your breathing. You can feel the mixture of cum leaking out and briefly cringe at the thought of cleaning up.

“Don’t worry baby, I’m way ahead of you.” Mezo is already back on the bed, gently wiping you down with a warm cloth, in his other hand you see a bottle of water.

You whisper a thank you and relax as Mezo takes care of you. As he finishes cleaning you up, he pulls one of his shirts over your head and wraps you up in his arms.

“Make sure you drink the whole thing okay love?” He hands you the bottle and watches as you drink. When you are done, he turns to the side and pulls you against him, caressing your back and speaking soothing words until you both fall asleep.

@cujoatemyhomework @sugarspiceanddynamight @tamakisbunnygirl @sightoru

#mezo shoji x reader #shoji x reader #mha fanfiction #mezo shoji #reader insert #lillith fic #lilliths masterlist #lillith writes

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midoriyas-wifey · 3 years

Text

YANDERE!SHOTO X FEM!READER HANDMAID’S TALE AU

so i have to thank the one, the only, @shorkbrian for feasting with me on this concept. also i only have a vague understanding of the book so im pulling most of this out of my ass

WARNINGS: tw noncon, tw abuse, shoto is a nasty breeding stud huhuhu

I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THIS!! PLEASE TAKE MY WARNINGS AND TW SERIOUSLY!!

to set the scene: this is set maybe like 3-4 generations after the canonical beginning of the society, so this culture of using fertile women as broodmares and women having like no rights at all has been totally normalized. few babies turn out to be fertile as well, but enough to keep pumping out more babies to keep a nation going.

shoto actually holds his official wife with a good deal of contempt because she’s only interested in him for status (as a commander) and money. the cherry on top is that his dad picked her out for him because of her quirk and family’s social status. he ignores her or gives the cold shoulder at the best of times. though they may sleep in the same bed, the atmosphere between the two is subzero.

shoto knew it was taboo, but he was adamant on hand picking who was to be his handmaid for the next 2 years. he was given a list of potential and available handmaids. as he perused the list in front of him, one stood out amongst all the others. you.

he couldn’t explain the feeling even if he tried, he was filled with a deep, molten lust; but on the other hand his chest bloomed with adoration. he read your description over and over obsessively, salivating over every word. you would be his. his to fuck, his to breed, his to impregnate. and of course, his to spoil and adore.

this deep of an attachment to a photo of your face and a paragraph of a description couldn’t be anything less than fate, he could feel it in his bones. you were his destined mate, fuck his whore wife and his shitty father, they could burn in hell.

shoto wondered how many of his kids he could get you to pop out in that 2 year time frame. IF he followed the time frame. the parameters of two years was already grating on him. he hadn’t even seen your body but he was chomping at the bit to flood your womb with his virile seed over and over and over and-

you’d just look so so cute as his barefoot and swollen leedle broodmare. his adorable little breeding heifer doing her duty, belly round and taut with his babies. he fantasizes about it day and night, your milky tits plaguing his dreams as he aches for both him and his future young to nurse on them.

ofshoto has no idea of the storm she’s been wrangled into. of course, you don’t know the levels of obsessive devotion he has to you. they might’ve even eclipsed his hatred for his father in their intensity.

having been schooled by the aunts, you had no true knowledge of how much of anything worked, except to be complicit to your commander and his wife. you knew your purpose, but not exactly how it went. the government wanted the handmaids to be as malleable and naive as possible. poor darlings.

shoto’s wife might be sitting in the chair next to him at the head of the banquet table and enji across from him, but shoto is too busy making his leedle handmaid cockwarm him thru dinner, occasionally bucking up into you, making you repress a squeal from how stuffed you are. you haven’t even gotten a chance to eat and you’re already full.

sometimes shoto’s wife is asleep when he drags his precious handmaid in to his room and you’re scared and crying because his wife will wake up and be angry with you. he tells you to be quiet and take his fat dick, let that ugly cow wake up and see him dumping his load into his broodmare, ask him if he gives a shit.

he’ll be railing you and rearranging your insides with you face down ass up while at the same time whispering in your ear about unfair his life is, that he only truly wants you and hates his father and wife. meanwhile you’re getting the screws in your brain fucked loose, knowing he has every intention of breeding you until your cunt can’t hold any more of his cum.

who is he kidding, of course he stuffs you with his seed way beyond what your tight little pussy can handle; every drop spilled is another huge, thick breeder load dumped, best try to keep it inside you.

the denouement is when enji walks in on shoto rearranging your guts and just freezes as he watches your body jolt and jiggle under the furious pounding of his son’s hips. the lewd slapping and squelching of your wet pussy around his dick was enough to have enji hard in his pants.

shoto knows all of this, and he revels in it. how enji can never have a taste of his delicious broodmare no matter how much he wants, how much he lusts.

without missing a beat, shoto looks up as his father while he pounds your gooey insides, your cries and wails bouncing around the room. their eyes meet. shoto quirks his brow and with a condescending and smug sneer on his face he asked his father: “what, do you plan on watching me make your grandbabies?”

shoto knocks you up with triplets within the first 2 months heehee >:3c

#tw noncon #yandere shoto x reader #yandere shoto #yandere todoroki #shoto x reader #shoto smut #todoroki smut #bnha imagines #bnha smut #bnha headcanons #tw abuse

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shoutogepi · 4 years

Text

His Reaction When His S/O Reveals They Have a Breeding Kink

with Hawks & Todoroki Shouto

genre : [ ✘ (NSFW!) ]

hc prompt : how would he react when you reveal you have a breeding kink?

author’s note : so this is uhhhhhhh nasty but y’all asked for it (not that i hated writing it or anything heheheeee)

Hawks

honestly you’ve been waiting for a long time to tell him about your dirty little secret. it feels shameful to have such a weird kink, something that gets you dripping wet when you think about it. and you certainly have thought about it, many a time before when he’s thrusting into you. you’ll close your eyes, imagining him whispering those nasty words to you, instantly making you clench onto him— and he has absolutely no clue that your mind is racing with such sin.

it’s taken, well, an embarrassing amount of time for you to finally sack up and just tell him, and now that you’re here underneath him, your heart is racing in your chest. before he’d gotten home you’d been so confident that today is the day you’ll tell him, but now that he’s sucking his mark onto your throat, his rough and nimble fingers slipping underneath the hem of your panties to tug them down your thighs, your voice is silent.

when you finally manage to squeak out his name, hawks stops his assault on your neck and leans back to look at you. the tone of your voice immediately alerts him that you’re uncomfortable, and it startles him into moving his hands from your thighs to rest gently on your hips, those gold eyes peering into yours. “what’s wrong, feather?” he asks, the usual playful tone absent as his thumbs stroke across your skin. “not in the mood?”

you shake your head and look away, heat rising to your cheeks as the moment of truth approaches much sooner than you’re ready for. “i am, i just… i wanna tell you something,” you say, eyes trailing back to lock with his. “and if you don’t, i mean— it’s kind of, uh, weird— so if you’re not comfortable with it, please just forget i ever said anything in the first place, and we’ll just continue like normal, okay?”

hawks is looking at you thoughtfully, and he takes you by surprise when he presses a chaste kiss to your warm cheek.

“well, ‘yanno you’re dating a birdman, so i'm used to weird... but alright, go ahead, dove.” this man never fails to make you smile, even if this time it’s less than half-hearted, the blood rushing in your ears.

after a very uncomfortable pause, you finally say it.

“i kind of have an, um… breeding kink.”

you’re not looking at him but hawks’ eyes are the size of dinner plates. he’s absolutely floored that his sweet little bird indulges in such nasty thoughts— that something so intimate and rather, well, primal could possibly make you squirm.

you take his shocked silence as a rejection, just wanting for this embarrassing confession to be done with, and forgotten. your hands cover your face in mortification, hiding your skin so you can’t feel his judgement “oh god, we can just— please just forget I even—“

his hands grab your wrists, secure enough to pull them away from your face, but gentle enough not to shake your mess of emotions further. a sentiment unlike any you’ve seen before fills his half-lidded eyes, which hold your gaze almost magnetically.

“don’t be so mean, birdie. you’re gonna take it back before we even get to try it out?”

your flushed back hits the cool sheets as he pushes you down, crawling up your body so he hovers above you. it’s your turn to look at him with wide eyes, and that cocky grin is on his lips once more.

“want me to put a baby in you, dove? god, that’s fuckin’ sexy,” he groans, hand dancing along your jaw and dipping his thumb between your lips for you to suck on. his knee slips between your legs, pressing against your pussy so he can feel you twitch in anticipation.

red feathers shiver behind him, the only visible sign you can see that conveys how truly excited he is by the premise of breeding you. well, that and the raging erection he presses into your naked hip, his thin pair of briefs doing their best to hold back his throbbing cock.

“gonna fill you so good, feather, you’re gonna look so good all round with my kid— fuck,” he groans, ripping off his underwear and lining up his swollen tip with your slit. he’s achingly hard and a trail of precum dribbles down his length, another sign of how into this he must be.

he moans as he slips into you, and your back arches as his hips bump yours, his cock nestling all the way inside your ready core. he starts off slow and passionate, taking your leg and slinging it over his shoulder to reach even deeper.

he will not stop his impassioned assault until you’re begging for more— for him to fuck you harder, rougher, faster. and hawks is definitely a tease in bed, so he’s gonna be pretty playful, even while he’s humoring your kink.

“yeah, dove? you want me to fuck you faster? need ‘ta feel these balls fulla my kids slap your pretty pussy?”

“take it, feather— take this cock and show me how bad you wanna carry my kids. fuck yeah, louder— wanna hear you sing for me.”

“god, you’re fuckin’ soaked. y’like hearing me talk about knockin’ you up? y’like it when i tell you i’m gonna make you my mama bird?”

hawks wants to fuck you as deep as he can, so when he cums his seed covers your womb as much as possible. he knows you love it, and it drives him crazy when your pussy clenches onto him as he’s climaxing— like you’re desperate to milk him dry and take every drop of his load, so your body can become swollen with his kids. knowing that only makes him orgasm harder, and maybe he even shoots out a few extra ropes of release because of it.

he will certainly incorporate this new kinky knowledge into your regular sexual routine, and you can safely bet that he will also use it to his very satiating advantage when he’s dealing with his ruts.

GOD when he’s in a rut, this birdman will take you to the next level. his hormones are already screaming at him to mark and claim and fill you, and that extra awareness that you want the same thing just feeds it even more. pray for your pussy during these times. and thank god he has the salary he does, because you’re gonna have to keep buying new sheets, again and again.

hawks will never make you feel judged for having such a kink, because he himself embraces it wholeheartedly. it makes his cock so hard knowing that the premise of him putting a kid in you makes you that wet. he will indulge you to the absolute fullest, and when he’s finished breeding you each session, you’re gonna be worshipped like the absolute queen he regards you as.

Shouto

so if you’re dating shouto be prepared for your friends to assume you like vanilla sex. it’s not that they don’t think he’s not physically capable of fucking you into next year (he’s a pro pero, like, have you seen his muscles?), it’s that shouto has always seemed more of a reserved, analytical kinda guy to most. but as his s/o, you’re exposed to the real shouto, the sassy, suave, and kinky motherfucker.

even if he is kinky, you’re still a bit hesitant to let him know about your breeding kink. the kink is, after all, not the most conventional, and it’s a bit of a… raw and crude kink, compared to others. and of course, you’ve never really revealed this part of yourself to any of your other lovers, because you hadn’t realized you even had the kink in the first place until you met shouto himself.

but the thing is, shouto is such a kind and understanding boyfriend, that you don’t feel too intimidated to keep the kink to yourself for long. actually, it kind of just slips out one night when he’s already balls-deep inside of you, taking you from behind as you’re bent over the kitchen sink.

his fingers are hooked in your hair, bending your spine to his will with his other hand firmly planted on your waist to keep you in place. he’s fucking you so roughly that your submissive nature is oozing out of every pore, your face probably twisted into the most lewd ahegao expression possible.

it’s clear that the reservations of your natural state are tossed out the window in front of you, and it’s not like shouto is holding anything back either with the way his hips are slapping into yours, groans tumbling from his lips.

at some point he’s shifting your leg up onto the ledge of the counter so he can drill his cock into that familiar sweet spot of yours, which coincidentally is located deep inside of you, close to your cervix and therefore your womb. the stars that dance along your vision cloud your brain, and you start babbling numbly as he finds the exact spot with precision.

“p-put a baby in me,” you whimper, pussy quivering to hug his intruding length, your legs nearly shaking at the intense stimulation.

shouto’s hips halt immediately as he sucks in a sharp breath, heterochromatic gaze connecting with yours in the window reflection. for a second he’s wondering if you mean you want to start a family with him, but after examining the carnal lust simmering in your eyes, he realizes what you’re truly asking of him.

and it turns him the fuck on.

“you wanna have my baby, hmm?” he growls and thrusts into you particularly hard, slamming into that sensitive spot and drawing a broken moan out of your breath-starved lungs. the hand on your waist travels to splay against your abdomen, long fingers pressing into your soft skin. “want me to fill you up,” thrust, “flood this pretty pussy with my seed,” thrust, “and make this perfect body swell with my child?”

you’re crying out as he starts pistoning into you, this time much harder and faster than before. he’s jabbing your g-spot with the head of his cock, the veins that decorate his thick length rubbing deliciously against your velvet walls. you can’t even form words, the premise of him knocking you up dominating your brain as you beg for more, for him to give you a baby.

your pleading is really getting him there, his cock aching to just stuff your pussy with his load already, but shouto wants something more. in no time he’s flipping you around, pushing your legs up so your calves rest against his broad shoulders. his hands gripping your waist, thumbs rubbing over your stomach as he eyes your flesh, he frantically pumps himself as deep as he can inside your heat. you can’t help but clench at the look on his face, his eyes fixed on your stomach as if he’s imagining what you’ll look like, belly round with his baby.

and oh my god, his dirty talk is absolutely sinful. he’s really finding enjoyment in exploring this new kink with you.

“you’re gonna look so gorgeous carrying my baby, angel.”

“i promise i’m gonna give you load after load, ‘til you’re round and full and— shit, you really like that, huh?”

“you’re gonna be a good girl for me, right y/n? be a good girl and say ‘thank you sir’ when i give you this cum— fuck, come on, baby— say it.”

when you both finish (it doesn’t take very long after that), you kinda just laugh together, and even though you’re still a little embarrassed that you were the one to bring it up, shouto makes you feel safe and accepted, because he seems just as into it as you.

it’s safe to say, that isn’t the last time you two explore your breeding kink. after the pair of you have become more comfortable with the kink, shouto finds himself getting perhaps even more into it than you.

he’ll research what positions he can go the deepest in, and will not be afraid to bend you into them because he knows you love it when his cum seeps into you as deep as possible.

he buys you a plug to keep his cum inside of you— “you thought i was gonna stop after just one round? don’t make me laugh, baby, we’ve got another two gos at least until you’re full enough for me to use the plug.”

his mischievous ass will make you wear it out in public, dragging you out on a date or to grab lunch with his siblings. and you have to pretend that everything’s fine, that your pussy isn’t packed to the brim with his seed while you make small talk with his clueless sister.

when fuyumi asks if you enjoyed the meal, he’s quick to answer for you, his eyes meeting yours and glittering with something darker. “oh, y/n’s absolutely stuffed. isn’t that right, angel?”

you’re sure as hell getting dessert when you return home too.

➥ masterlist

➥ prompt party masterlist

#SPPEvent #ngl got very flustered writing this #i enjoy reading breeding kink but damn if i didnt get embarrassed writing this LOL #anywhooo this is the first of many for my sppevent #hawks smut #shouto todoroki smut #shouto smut #bnha smut #mha smut

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meg-noel-art · 2 years

Note

belu bls for ship ask

BELLLUUUU belu belu belu thank you bbbbb!!! <3

Who is more likely to hurt the other? I see Beta being more likely to lash out, panic, say the wrong thing, or be otherwise unintentionally hurtful. She has to unlearn 16/17 years of being alone on a spaceship with close to no human interaction. Is okay though because Milu is the sweetest and so patient and gentle ;;; Even so, I think Beta is the hurtier of the two.

Who is emotionally stronger? Giving this one to Beta. Maybe not ALWAYS the best at *handling* anxiety, but she has had only herself for years and has had to find some way to deal with the Bad Thoughts. She's more logically minded as well. I think as she grows, she'd be more adept at handling charged emotional moments by proxy of reason.

Who is physically stronger? As you know foibs, I've headcanoned Milu gets tall and beefy when she gets older. STRONK. Butch ass gay, shaved head. Can bench a charger ... okay maybe not that much but definitely Milu.

Who is more likely to break a bone? Beta - weak ass space bones. And she's a bit less athletic as it stands. Just falls or bumbles into something or gets into a bad scrap with a machine. Bam. Broke.

Who knows best what to say to hurt the other? Beta hands down. Her calculative mind would easily stow away bits of knowledge that could be used to hurt in moments of distress or anger. She'd have weapons in her back pocket that come out in B A D moments.

Who is most likely to apologize first after an argument? Annnd following that previous one up with Beta, again. She'd be as quick to acknowledge her mistake and apologize as she would be to lash out.

Who treats who's wounds more often? You can BET that Beta treats Milu's wounds more often. She is the hunter after all. Comes back home with loads of little scrapes that Beta binds without question and Milu just ":]"

Who is in constant need of comfort? Beta, absolutely. Walks around constantly asking "do you still like me?" Milu is always patient and resssures her 😫

Who gets more jealous? Milu >:) Probably unexpectedly territorial of her gf. Beta is so cute and nice and a little naive and looks JUST like Aloy, and that gathers a lot of attention from many folks. Milu is probably half "you all leave her alone she's overwhelmed >:(" and half "why would she even pick me she's so amazing🥺"

Who will propose? Milu :] mostly likely in Plainsong, in a really quiet way, just the two of them, simple and not overwhelming...

Who has the most difficult parents? 🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️

Who intitiates hand holding when they're out in public? Milu does. Not just for affection, but for communication. Tiny squeezes to check in on Beta, if she's overwhelmed in public spaces.

who hogs the blankets? Milu is a blanket hog - messy sprawled sleeper

who gets more sad? Beta - anxiety riddled baby. Needs comfort a LOT of the time because her bad brain gets the best of her.

Who is better at cheering the other up? Milu is probably a master at making Beta smile. Through affection, time spent or dumb jokes.

who’s the one that playfully slaps the other all the time after they make silly jokes? who is more streetwise? Beta - Milu surprises her with the BEST jokes and she just bursts out laughing.

who is more wise? Probs Beta! Not to say Milu isn’t a smartie, but Beta knows calculus LOL...ratio

who’s the shyest? Beta also - anxiety again. Milu can be a little shy too though, they are a bad combo LOL

who boasts about the other more? You can BET Milu tells everyone she can about her smart, cute, strong, amazing girlfriend ;;;;

#belu #thank you ma'am #asks #milu #beta #ship ask #foibles-fables

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sibsteria · 3 years

Text

valentines [spn cast and characters]

summary: how much do they care for it? what do they do?

warning: fluff, smut-ish, my frazzled single brain

Cast:

Misha Collins:

• he won't admit that he kinda loves it

• he'd definitely cooks

• but always gets distracted

• by you

• if you have kids, they are away that night

• the traditional dinner doesn't last long before you're both attached by the lips

• whatever alcohol is being consumed has a cute romantic twist

• you're up all night

• so many hugs

---

Richard Speight Jr:

• he kind of cares for it

• like, a sweet gesture is as far as it goes

• a gift and a movie

• but also

• he so buys heart printed boxers to make you laugh

• and you do, you laugh so hard

• like, everything is so serious and going smoothly

• and his pants are off and just-

• absolute hilarity

---

Sebastian Roche:

• it's more of a 'if you do, he does' situation

• you'd bake together

• even though he's awful at it

• everything comes out half decent and edible

• he just wants a chill day

• hardly any movement and you don't leave the house

• I repeat

• don't

---

Rob Benedict:

• fucking cringy bitch, he likes it enough to make you blush all day

• writes a small song about you both

• obviously on an acoustic

• he recreates your first date because he's that guy

• meaningful gifts rather than expensive ones

• the affection king

---

Mark Pellegrino:

• he doesn't care for it but will do anything to make you smile

• rolls his eyes at the cringy sexual jokes you aim at him

• but then he makes up for it by bringing them to life at the end of the evening

• y'all just kind of act like it's a normal day

• with more affection

• mostly from Frankie

---

Alexander Calvert:

• thinks he has to impress you, so he tries

• definitely a flowers guy

• the kind to steal kisses at any given moment

• a romantic at heart, but he hides it well

• that evening though-

• the hottest sex you've had in your life

• he wears the necklace

• it's a cold opposite to the heat of the moment

---

Felicia Day:

• when I say valentines, you say romance

• she's the queen of making you feel loved

• she can't pull herself off away from you

• wine and her romantic spotify playlist

• you wear her t-shirt and nothing else, all day

• the sex? absolutely spectacular

---

Mark Sheppard:

• he cares for it more than he'd like to

• but not enough to give you the satisfaction of a romantic dinner

• did someone say takeout? mark sheppard did

• you don't even care, just not being alone on valentine's is enough (yes I'm looking at you)

• bed ridden and pyjamas

• sweet hugs that last forever

---

Ruth Connell:

• you try your hardest to refuse all the romance

• in no way is she going to let that happen

• chocolates, flowers, candles, dinner, music

• she doesn't waste time

• big softy

---

Characters:

Castiel:

• has no clue why there's heart shaped confections and objects everywhere

• asks Sam and Dean what's going on

• if you two aren't dating he will absolutely ask you to be his Valentine in a traditional way

• valentine's alcohol bottle? check

• sweet card? check

• innuendoes that make you choke on your spit? bingo

• if you are dating already he'll give you a bouquet of chocolate roses

• you'll get him a custom tie with everything he loves on

• pb&j, bees, dean

• he has no idea what is going on, but wants in

---

Gabriel:

• to be frank, he doesn't give a shit, but loves you so-

• he will wear the moustache with or without your protests

• try every line in the book to bed you

• chocolate ! covered ! everything !

• -and that's just for him

• turns your room into a valentine's dungeon, hearts, banners, flowers (so many), everything is pink and red and- ugh

• you hate it but kind of love it

• and you love him for doing this without asking

• he will talk you into some food play with like, chocolate and whipped cream and shit

• you get it in your bellybutton and slap his head away before he can get it, wiping it off yourself

---

Chuck:

• wants nothing to do with the 'holiday'

• you reassure him it's fine and that you don't care

• but your thoughts say different

• so he caves and writes you a poem

• it's the most beautiful thing you have ever heard

• man has a way with words

• and you have your way with him

• the one ability he can't give himself is the love he feels for you

• he hardly says it, but he doesn't have to

• because you know

• from the way he looks at you, treats you, talks to you

• it's so obvious

---

Jack Kline:

• much like Cas, a discussion between him and the Winchester's gives him the knowledge he needs

• omg sweet baby is obsessed with Valentine's day

• he keeps handing you things, one after another throughout the day

• not everything is store bought

• 'I made this for you!' you fucking melt 'I saw it online and- I thought of you, I wanted to make it so I could make you happy'

• but you don't need things to make you happy

• he makes you happy

• and when he hears your thoughts say that he just-

• he almost cries, he hugs you tighter than anyone ever could

• 'you make me the happiest'

• he's just a big bundle of cuteness

---

Lucifer:

• just, no

• neither of you care

• you torment all the couples on dates, making things go wrong

• making them spill things on themselves

• the waiters 'slip' with their food

• a little more sinister ones like- making it look like their s/o is cheating

• and if you don't like that, he will stop

• deep down, it kind of is a date

• two people who love each other to the ends of earth, doing something that makes them happy

• he takes a break from rough fucking to make you feel adored

• even though you always feel adored

• because Lucifer himself, is taking up his time with you

---

Balthazar:

• he asks you if you want to do anything and you say no

• he's so confused and sceptical

• he's lowkey kind of hurt that you don't want to spend romantic time with him, lowkey

• oh, if only he knew your plan

• you ask him if he wants to watch a movie

• he hops at the opportunity to do something with you and goes all out

• expensive wine, snacks, flowers, so many snacks

• he lets you pick

• he looks at you like your his world

• and then Titanic starts

• his soft grin drops and he rolls his eyes

• 'really?' 'really.'

• he doesn't really care though, he has you

---

Crowley:

• tells everyone to fuck off so he can have time with you, completely alone

• he just wants to be loved, and so you do that exactly

• you muster up all your romantic stops, and bam-

• you pester your angel friend to help set up décor and snap up some things

• he has no idea until he actually sees it for himself

• he wants to cry, but uses everything in himself not to

• no one has ever done anything like this for him

• he know your special, and he knows he can't let you go

• that night, if you don't already have it, he offers you immortality

• to be with him forever

• you'd be the queen of hell for eternity

• you instantly say yes with no hesitation

• he is taken back by your acceptance

• but in a heart melting way

---

Charlie Bradbury:

• she loves it when she has you to spend it with

• you send each other valentines card memes throughout the day

• fancy takeout with candles and music

• bathing together because intimacy

• you but new lingerie

• so does she

• 'love that colour on you' you make her blush so much

• she likes to think she hold the reigns in the relationship

• she is so wrong

---

Rowena MacLeod:

• like, no

• she'll kiss you like her life depends on it but

• not much goes on

• you might treat each other to a stamina spell so you can really stay up all night

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amatchinwater · 3 years

Text

Did a little thing for Day 2 of Stackson Week 2021!

Day 2: Trapped together

Pairing: Stackson

Warnings: underage drinking

Word count: 2709

Rating: teen and up

Ao3 link

Stiles knew it was a bad idea to have a party at Lydia’s lake house in the middle of hurricane lever rain and a goddamn flood warning. What’s even worse is he’s the first person to show up! Lydia herself isn’t even here yet. The banshee was kind enough to tell him where they put the hide-a-key so he could get in and out of the storm. Scott and Isaac aren’t picking up or answering his texts. If they’re not here because they’re too busy fucking and Stiles has to be here soaked and alone, he’s going to kill them.

When Stiles gets in the house, he stomps his shoes on the mat to not track in any mud. Lyds would castrate him for that, so he takes them off just to be safe. Slipping out of his jacket, Stiles hangs it on the hook, careful not to let it drip anywhere other than the little rug underneath it. The house is empty and eerily dark. Then again, why wouldn’t it be? He’s the only fucking one here. Making his way into the kitchen, Stiles’ preturbrance only grows.

It doesn’t even look like the place is meant to house a party in the next twenty minutes. Nothing is set up. There isn't a single bag of chips or other snacks on the counter. No pizzas and sandwich platters like her birthday. A keg is not beside the island either. Just two bottles of wine with a sticky note that reads-

“Have fun?”

Oh my god! Stiles jumps and flails, nearly knocking the bottles over on the counter.

“What kind of fucking game is she playing?” Jackson snatches the note, rereading it before flicking it back towards the island.

Still clutching his wildly beating heart, Stiles gasps, “could you maybe announce yourself next time?” He collects himself- mostly. “Not all of us have your little wolf senses. You almost gave me a heart attack, you fuck.”

Jackson snorts and almost playfully bumps him with his shoulder. “Not my fault you left the front door unlocked, Stilinski.”

Fuck this. “I’m leaving.” Stiles stalks back towards the front door, yanking his jacket off the hook and grabbing his shoes. Whipping the open the door, the teen groans loudly, dropping his head back, “you’ve got to be kidding me!”

“What are you bitching about now?” The wolf steps beside him and looks outside, his eyes widen drastically. “Holy shit!”

The lake has officially overflown since they’ve shown up and the driveway is at least three inches deep with water. Jackson’s care looks like it’s barely capable of surviving if it gets too high. Stiles almost cares enough to wonder if they should move it. This fucking storm! Now he’s stuck here with nowhere to go. Yes, he has a jeep, but the road out is no doubt a muddy mess that even Roscoe can’t navigate.

Closing the door and putting his clothes back where they were, Stiles whines, “why would she pick today to do this?” Thinking about the weather his dad forced him to watch this morning. Most cities were calling in downed power lines and massive branches flying through the streets.

She knew this storm was coming. So much so that Lydia even reminded him to wear his boots rather than his sneakers. “I guess I better call Scott, tell him not to come. No use in him getting stuck in the woods like this.” Sures, having his best friend here would make this exceptionally better. But Stiles doesn’t want to break up any fights between a stir crazy Jackson and Isaac. Fishing in his pocket, Stiles pulls out his phone and smashes the call button in annoyance.

“Stiles, hey. I’m sorry I did-” Scott answers on the second ring only to be cut off by Stiles.

“I don’t care if you and Isaac were fucking,” Jackson chuckles at his jab. “Don’t come to Lydia’s. The lake flooded and now Jackson and I can’t leave.”

“Okay,” Scott draws out the word and if Stiles wasn’t mistaken sounds a little confused. Jackson’s brows knit together at the response too. Okay, so it did sound weird then. “I’m sorry you’re stuck there, dude. But maybe this will be a good thing?”

Is he serious? “How the fuck is it supposed to be a good thing to be stuck in a goddamn house with someone who hates my guts?” Stiles’ hand slaps his thigh in exasperation. Not to mention the asshole in question was hotter than hell fire and makes it incredibly hard to be in the same room with him. Not thinking about that when Jackson can smell his chemosignals.

“Well,” Scott drawls, “you did say you had a crush on him.” Stiles blanches and goes stalk still, forgetting how to fucking breathe. Jackson snorts beside him. Stiles is going to kill Scott. “Oh my god! He’s right next to you, isn’t he?”

“I hate you so much right now.” Stiles makes a point to stare at the floor and not at the shuffling wolf beside him. “Well, thanks for getting me killed. Great best friend job, truly. See ya probably never, Scotty.” He promptly hangs up before Scott can answer.

“So,” Jackson purrs and Stiles can’t help but turn and face the wolf. His arms are crossed from where he leans against the wall, one foot propped behind him. Jackson’s face holds that stupid, sexy, douchbag smirk, “you like me?”

He’s not even going to entertain that. Stiles squints at him with his mouth slightly parted. It only makes Jackson chuckle. “I need a drink,” Stiles uses every ounce of self control not to literally run away and back into the kitchen. Sifting through the drawers until he finds the corkscrew, Stiles grabs a bottle. Once the cork is out- that actually had already been opened- Stiles could give fuck all about a glass. He takes a sip directly from the bottle, regretting it at the extensive bitter taste of wolfsbane.

Clearly that one’s for Jackson. He’s courteous enough to slide the wine across the island when Jackson is back in the room. The wolf stares at him as his lips wrap around the mouthpiece and drinks from it, not giving a damn to wipe it after Stiles’ drank first. The other boy just watches before his brain recovers and he opens his own bottle. Setting the cork and opener aside, Stiles grabs the wine and leaves the wolf in the kitchen to go sit in the living room where Lydia keeps the playstation.

Plopping on the couch, Stiles lets himself sink into the cushion and takes several swigs. Actually rather enjoying the slight burn and the warmth that quickly settles in his belly. He can very easily just sit here and watch tv like Jackson doesn’t even exist. Stiles can go to literally anywhere else to be away from the wolf if need be. He cannot believe that Jackson found out he likes him.

Fucking Scott.

It takes a few minutes for Jackson to join him. Stiles already has Supernatural playing and has killed a good third of his wine before the wolf is sitting next to him. Like right next to him. One nervous leg bounce and their thighs or knees will touch. Seriously? Lydia has two couches, a chaise lounge, and two armchairs in her living room. So why is he so close?

Scratch that initial thought. There’s like six other rooms in this big ass house that Jackson could’ve gone to. Why here? Stiles drinks more.

Jackson takes another small sip, looking like he’s barely drank anything from his own bottle before saying, “I have a secret to tell you.”

He fights the eyeroll only just, “what information could you possibly have that I would care about?” Amber eyes stay glued to the flat screen.

“I don’t hate you, Stiles.”

“Oh?” He asks with mock interest. Even though there’s something tickling at his heart that Jackson didn’t call him ‘idiot’ or ‘Stilinski’. He can’t allow himself to fall for the wolf’s tricks. He won’t let the rug get yanked out from under him.

“Quite the opposite actually.”

Stiles snorts and turns to make some smart ass retort. But his ‘yeah right’ gets stuck on his tongue finding Jackson’s face mere inches from his own. He gulps. Clearing his throat, Stiles takes a big sip before putting his bottle on the small table beside him. Too fuzzy and warm to process this, Stiles scooches until he’s pressing against the armrest.

Jackson also places his bottle on the coffee table before sliding closer. Forcing Stiles to half turn into the couch while the wolf puts an arm on either side of him, completely encasing Stiles. “I like you,” he presses further, “a lot.” Jackson leans in until their noses brush, “tell me if you want me to stop.”

Blame the wine. Blame his hormones for not wanting him to stop. Hell, blame everyone and everything, Stiles included. But he does have a massive crush on Jackson. Even though he knows damn well that he shouldn’t. The guy’s a prick. He has no problem letting people know that he’s better than them. Making damn sure to flaunt his money too. As if that makes him hotter or something. It doesn’t.

No, it’s the icy blue eyes that make Stiles want to learn their secrets and harvest the knowledge. The wolf’s stupid jaw that’s perfect and Stiles just wants to bite it. He;s seen Jackson naked numerous times- thank you locker room shower’s forgotten concept of privacy. But god damn, when Jackson smiles- not his asshole smirk, but genuine smile- Stiles’ lungs and knees forget how to function. Despite his actions earlier, the teen is actually pretty happy to be stuck here.

Only acting as though he hates Jackson because he was simply following the wolf’s lead. His eyes flick to Jackson’s bottle of wine- its contents too hard to see in the dark green glass from this distance- and back to hooded baby blues. There’s only two reasons Stiles can believe that this is actually happening right now.

Jackson’s drunk. Because Stiles doesn’t understand the extent in which wolfsbane affects werewolf's tolerance. Which would mean the ex-kanima has no idea what he’s doing and should go sleep it off. Stiles hopes it’s this because the latter is just too painful.

Jackson’s fucking with him. Surely he doesn’t have actual feelings for Stiles. Maybe the wolf found out he’s bi and wanted to tease him about it. Although, something tells him that Danny would murder Jackson if he ever found out. Still. This is Stiles. Lowest on the lacrosse totem pole and not the wolf’s best friend. Is Jackson that cruel though?

Beautiful, parted pink lips get closer, so Stiles whispers, “you’re just drunk,” and turns his head away, hoping that’s the case here. Waiting for the joke to play out.

“I’m really not.” Jackson reaches over to grab his drink. There’s maybe three sips missing when he dangles the bottle for proof. “See?” The wolf puts it back, returning with a smirk and a cocked brow, “now will you let me kiss you?” Jackson chuckles, it’s a breathy sound, but doesn’t make to move closer. Leaving it to Stiles.

He’s not falling for that trap. The prove-to-me-you-want-it-so-I-can-kick-you-down trap by making Stiles lean in. “So you’re fucking with me then?” He should’ve known better.

The other boy looks confused and a little offended. Jackson leans back farther, still sitting close, but no longer in Stiles’ personal space. He actually wants him to come back, but how could he ever tell the wolf that when this is just a game? “Why would I fuck with you about this?” Jackson’s voice is soft and full of so much emotion that Stiles almost believes him.

“Uh, because that’s what you do?” Stiles gestures wildly like it should have been obvious. “You’ve made it perfectly clear that we’re not even friends. You were literally my bully when we were kids. I don’t- and i-it only got worse when I developed a crush on Lydia. Which I get, she was your girlfr-”

“What’s not why I was a dick.” The wolf cuts him off with a shake of his head. Stiles squints an eye at him, mouth still hanging open from the word that didn’t finish. “I was jealous.”

“Why the fuck would you be jealous of me?” Stiles scoffs and Jackson ducks his head with a chuckle. “Lydia never even looked at me while you were together.”

Jackson flashes a bemused grin when he looks back, “I was jealous of Lydia, you idiot.” The name usually bitten out comes with a tone that suggests it’s meant to be a term of endearment.

“Oh, I’m so sorry that I wasn’t fawning over you like your little fan club, okay? My bad. You’re right, you’re incredibly hot and I should’ve stroked your ego by putting you some fucking pedestal-” Jackson swallows whatever other words and the surprised squeak from Stiles’ lips. He stares bug eyed at the wolf’s closed eyes. Jackson presses closer, his hand cupping the other boy’s cheeks while his tongue slides against Stiles’ bottom lip. Entrance isn’t given, he can’t really, Stiles is too shocked to do so.

The wolf pulls away, still holding Stiles’ face, “I didn’t care that you thought she was attractive.” Jackson drops a hand and lifts his hips, pulling one of Stiles’ legs until the human gets the massage and- for some fucking reason- lays on the couch. The wolf’s hips immediately settle into the space created and Stiles can feel just how much Jackson wants this. Him. “I wanted to be the one you had a crush on because of the massive one I have on you.”

That’s a lot to process. If Jackson liked him then- “why did you make my life hell?”

Jackson’s free hand falls to Stiles’ hip, rubbing softly and the other props himself on the armrest behind Stiles’ head. “I didn’t know how to handle the fact that I suddenly like guys. Well, a guy.” The wolf sighs, “Lydia knew and agreed to keep my secret as long as I needed her to. I’m sorry I treated you like that.”

Stiles has never seen him act so soft. Having Derek as an Alpha and a proper back must really be working for Jackson. It makes him charming in a way that his jerk persona never could. Being emotionally balanced and all that.

“I’m going to ask you one more time. And I’ll know if you’re lying. So don’t do me any favors and don’t hide from me either.” The warning is evident. Don’t say it and not mean it. And don’t mean it but not day it. Otherwise he’ll walk. “Will you please, let me fucking kiss you?”

Stiles fists his fingers in the wolf’s shirt- half expecting Jackson to snap at wrinkling his expensive clothes- to push him away or pull him closer, the other boy really doesn’t know. Until his arm moves of its own volition and Jackson’s mouth gets drawn to him.

The wolf chuckles against his lips, “finally.” The hand on his hip grips tighter and the other comes back to his jaw. Jackson tilts his head up to deepen the kiss. Jackson kisses like he wants to swallow Stiles whole. Maybe he does. Maybe Stiles would let him. Panting he pulls away again, and the other teen bites back a whine. “I have one more question and then I promise I’ll shut up.”

The human playfully rolls his eyes, “what is it?”

“Be with me.” Jackson states. Stiles cocks his head to the side with a chuckle, that wasn’t really a question. But his heart skips a beat nonetheless at the implication of the wolf’s words. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

Stiles is nodding before the request is completely out of Jackson’s beautiful face. “Fuck yeah, dude.” The wolf breathes out a laugh at the ridiculousness. “Now just kiss me. Please?”

“Whatever you want,” Jackson grins and presses his body in further, claiming Stiles’ lips as his own.

Stiles is now stupidly happy about this storm locking them in Lydia’s lake house. He got a boyfriend out if.

#stackson #stiles stilinski #jackson whittemore #stiles x jackson #teen wolf #ao3 fic #stacksonweek2021

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lustbile-archive · 4 years

Text

Good Morning

KunxReader (Requested)

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Smut & a little fluff. Daddy kink and “punishment”

You weren’t one for asking for what you wanted, and honestly? You weren’t really to blame for that either.

From the moment Kun even caught feelings for you, you had him wrapped around your finger. He perked up every time you spoke, did anything you asked, always made a point of asking how you were doing, all because you were his baby.

This phenomenon only got worse once you started having sex. One pout or whine from your lips and he’d melt. You wouldn’t say you were particularly bratty, but you liked to be taken cared of, and Kun was more than a willing participant in your nonsense. Especially if your nonsense gave him the opportunity to rough you up a bit.

Yeah you were his baby, and he loved you, but something else that he deeply loved was watching you cry underneath him. And lucky for him, you liked the things he would do that made you cry.

One morning, you woke up in search of one of those reasons to cry. You weren’t sure what brought it on. Maybe you were just horny, so much that your body craved something you hadn’t gotten in awhile. Maybe calling it a punishment wasn’t accurate, considering how much you enjoyed yourself when it happened, but something in your gut told you that you needed some pain to alleviate the distracting need between your legs.

You didn’t get punished often, with you getting pretty much anything you wanted you didn’t really have a reason to act out. Misbehaving wasn’t really something that interested you anyway with Kun, so it seemed to you that your best form of action was to simply tell him to punish you. But maybe not with so many words.

The book he held was thick and clearly had all of his attention. The paperback was gripped tightly in his fingers, his eyebrows threaded together as he squinted at the words. He looked almost angry as he read, and as he sat slouching on the living room couch, his legs bare and set wide as he had gotten up only an hour or so before you. You couldn’t help the dreamy sigh that you let out when you peaked at him from around the corner from the hall. His loose white t-shirt had pulled up when he sat down, exposing the line of hair that formed on his lower stomach, this combined with bulge that showed through the thin fabric of his underwear made you feel like you were going a bit crazy.

The soft fabric of your socks dragged against the hardwood of the floor as you emerged from your hiding place to get to him, and he loudly grunts when you finally reach him and immediately and ungracefully drape yourself across his lap. You press your face into the couch and begin to wiggle against him, letting out a whiny sigh when he rests his book against your back as his other hand moves to rest on your upper thigh.

“Why aren’t you wearing any pants?” you ask, your voice muffled by the couch cushion. Your words are quickly followed by a pleased hum rumbles from you at the feeling of his calloused fingertips brushing against the sensitive skin of your thighs.

He quietly laughs at the question, softly tapping the book against your spine, “you’re not wearing pants either.”

You thoughtfully hum, tilting your hips to force his hand closer to where you needed it, hoping he would begin get the message, “and what are you going to do about it?”

“Hm?” he questions as you turn your face to look at him from the corner of your eye, “am I supposed to do something about it?”

“You could,” you shift again, his thumb finally pressing into the hem of your underwear, the feeling of fabric and your words making him softly smile, “if you wanted to… daddy.”

You add the word quietly, but you still feel him stiffen under you when it reaches his ears, a small groan hitting yours in response.

“I can?” he plays along, trying to keep the tone casual, but you hear the slight strain that lies beneath. You melt into him when he uses his thumb to push the seat of your underwear slightly to the side, his fingers only lightly brushing against where you really want his touch, “you want a punishment for something you’re allowed to do?”

You grumble as you feel yourself start to slip into a more petulant attitude, “it’s not like I’m gonna get punished for doing something bad, I do whatever you tell me.”

“Hm that's true,” he quickly agrees as he reaches up to run his hand over the curve of your ass, “then I guess since you're such a good baby for me you should get what you want.”

He punctuates his words with a cracking slap that fills the room, his hand harshly meeting your flesh, making you yelp.

You feel him place his book on the couch, next to your arm, before he grabs your hip to move you closer to his chest. He adjusts your body to get a better hold on you before landing another stinging slap against your skin.

The muscles of your thighs tense as they press together, a desperate attempt at relieving the pressure between your legs. You can already feel yourself becoming wet from the pain, as your chest swells with pride at getting exactly what you wanted. You knew you would. You always do.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asks, with full knowledge of your answer before you can even speak, “you like it when it hurts?”

“Hmm yes,” you buck back into his hold, one leg falling from its place on the couch to dangle off the side. Your toes painfully bump into the floor when he lands another hit at your skin, but the buzzing heat from your ass distracts from any other feeling.

“Always so good,” he mutters to himself as he lovingly inspects the bruising skin. He adds a few more quick, sharp swats to your skin before his fingers wrap around the elastic of your underwear, “now let’s see how much you’re enjoying this punishment,” he says the word in a way that, if his hands weren’t busy, would warrant air quotes.

You quietly sob, turning your face to press back into the couch. Something about the way he tugs the garment down, the fabric scratching at your tingling skin, makes you flush in shame. You whine into the cushion when your underwear hit the floor and your boyfriend groans at what he finds.

‘Sweetheart,” he starts, his fingers prodding at you as he gently spreads you apart for his greedy eyes, “you’re already dripping baby. Is this just from a few hits?”

“Yes,” you squeak while trying to press yourself tighter against his roaming fingers, but he only pulls away to hit you again.

“Yes what baby?” he asks, his voice holds an air of authority as he speaks but you know him well enough to hear the sadistic pride he has from asking.

“Yes daddy,” you respond almost immediately, your feet kicking slightly in impatience.

“That’s right,” he hums in content, his hand running over you in an attempt to sooth the burn his hand left behind, “always so good for me.”

You can’t help but keen at his praise as you lean further into his touch. Your eyelashes begin to flutter against your cheekbones when his free hand moves to scratch at the base of your skull as the other finally reaches to gently pet at your clit.

“You just lay down and let me play any way I want dont you?” his questions rattle in your head, but quickly slip away as you’re too wrapped up in the soft pleasure that begins to run up the length of your spine. Slow circles are rubbed against your buzzing bundle of nerves as your fiery skin is being cooled by the morning air that moves through the room.

Your nails grit against the weave of the couch’s fabric when he moves from your clit to dip the tips of his middle and ring fingers inside you, only reaching past the first knuckles before he’s tucking his bottom lip snug between his teeth and groaning around it.

He pushes his fingers as deep as they can reach, before they slightly curl inside of you. Your legs fall open even farther as you go lax from the way you stretch around the digits. He savors the way you gently clench around his fingers, his eyes unmoving from where your body greedily sucks him in, before he slowly removes them.

“So wet,” he speaks to himself as he looks at the evidence of your arousal that you’ve left on his fingers, before he swiftly presses them back in, “and all for me.”

You whine as he begins a gentle pace of fucking you on his fingers. The stimulation is not enough to make you come, but enough to get you worked up and desperate against him.

“Kun,” you hiccup before quickly correcting yourself again, “daddy please.”

“Please what baby?” he beams at the name that slips past your lips, both at receiving the title and at the fact that your mind had gotten so muddled that you had to correct yourself, “gotta use your words or I don’t know what you want.”

“Need more, please more,” your hips begin to roll in sync with his fingers moving in and out of your body, your toes bumping against the floor again.

He only makes a noise at the back of his throat in response, before he’s moving his hand from your neck to crawl between where your hip presses against his thigh. His forearm lifts your hips up as he reaches underneath you to meet his other hand to return the soft pets to your neglected clit.

His fingers unintentionally pick up pace once he’s paying attention to rubbing four fingers flat against your clit. The way you're covered completely by his hands and the way your legs begin to gently shake making it feel like someone is sending electric shocks to his brain.

Your body immediately reacts by meeting his motions once again. Your hips now make small circles in the air, and your toes begin to curl. Your eyes close tight and a mean smile stitches itself onto his face as he watches you squirm.

The stretch of his fingers are suddenly ripped away as he pulls back before landing another biting slap against your skin. You squeak at the unexpected feeling, as until then you had completely forgotten the sting of your raw skin.

He swats at you a few more times, before he moves to smack at where his fingers were only momentarily pressed into before. The sting and shock of being hit where he was just pulling you apart, makes you begin to rut against the fingers rolling against your hypersensitive clit.

A sadistic laugh rumbles his chest, before his fingers find their place back inside of you, his pace quicker than the one he kept earlier.

“I need you to come for me baby,” he speaks sweetly as if he’s not the man turning your skin different darker shades and lighting your nerves on fire. His tone is almost condescending as he fucks you roughly on his fingers, “want you to come nice a pretty for me.”

His fingers are unrelenting as you move in hopes to come like he’s asked, both for your own pleasure and his. Something about the way his usually soft voice has gone gruff at the actions you two have started in the middle of the living room, makes your skin crawl in the best way possible. You only shake harder when you feel his chest press momentarily against your back, so he can lean over a spit harshly at where his fingers drill in and out. His thick saliva drips against your skin, and is quickly collected on his fingers and shoved inside of you. You can only babble and moan as it makes you fish around him more.

“Fuck Kun,” you swear as his words tip of the pressure in your lower stomach to begin to build. The way his fingers curl, makes his knuckles dig into a spot inside you that makes your head spin as you begin panting and whining into the air. You feel his fingers struggle to keep their pace when you clamp down hard as you begin to come.

It feels as if the fingers on your clit pick up even quicker to make up for the shallow thrusts he presses into you, the pleasure the motion brings is almost overwhelming as you subconsciously try to squirm away amidst your blinding orgasm. He tenses his arms to lock you against him as he stimulates you through the pleasure. Your legs thrash against the couch as you lose control of your rolling eyes, your orgasm bleeding into what feels like every nerve of your body.

He pulls his fingers out slowly when you begin to whimper in his hold, but he continues to barely roll his fingers over your clit in both an attempt to help you calm down, but also to enjoy the way you twitch every few seconds. Once your orgasm subsides, the sleepiness from having only woken up about an hour ago begins to crawl back into your skull and makes you sink into the couch.

You hear a soft sucking as he moves his fingers to his mouth, a quiet grumble of happiness vibrating the skin of your hip where it meets his torso when the taste of you hits his tongue. You feel your eyelids start to droop when he moves his still damp fingers to knead the tense muscle of your thigh.

You do nothing to suppress the dopey smile that you begin to wear. The intense feeling of coming now over, making your body relax into him. You don’t remember the thought of speaking forming in your mind before the words are spilling from your lip, “good morning daddy.”

He leans down pressing a small kiss onto your burning skin as he laughs quietly to himself, somehow finding the spot that stings the most and makes you hiss, “good morning sweetheart.”

#wayv smut #nct smut #kun smut #wayv #nct #kun #quian kun #nct imagines #wayv imagines #kun imagines #nct fanfic #wayv fanfic #nct oneshot #wayv oneshot

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