#ESPECIALLY WHEN THEY HAVE SHEER MATERIALS | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

4izawas · 6 months

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╰─▸ ❝ 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑! ❞ ──── 𝐟𝐭. 𝐒. 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎.

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: “i’m boyfriend material!” he cries indignantly, offended despite the fact that he’d never kept a relationship for more than a few months out of sheer boredom, and you pause before looking him up and down. / “…mhmm.”

𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦: jujutsu kaisen | 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: satoru gojo/f!reader, mild sukuna/reader | 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: nsfw ; minors dni | 𝐰/𝐜: 6.25k.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: college au, fem reader, fuckboy satoru, protected sex ( wrap it up cumsluts ), jealousy, attempted hand-holding, brief nanami cameo, satoru gets hard attached and then is O.O when reader is like ‘nah imma dip now’, slight angst, unrequited love, previously established relationship ( just not w gojo 💀💀 ), cheating ( by reader ), bf sukuna.

𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐜𝐚𝐬: hmmm gojo’s not suffered enough, let’s do THIS 👹👹

— 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞 !!

Gojo Satoru was not nervous.

All he had to do was ask a simple girl in his Philosophy course out so he could take her home and sleep with her. He’d never asked any of the girls in his Philosophy course out, though, so he was a little hesitant. As odd as it would seem, he enjoyed this class, and he didn’t want anything awkward to happen — which was why Suguru had directed him your way.

‘“She won’t make it weird,”’ he’d said, though how he’d known when Satoru knew every person that his best friend had ever slept with ( and you had not been one of them ) was beyond him.

Remember, he thinks to himself, glancing over at you a few times in a way he thinks isn’t noticeable, She’s gonna fall all over you, just like all the others, as soon as you ask her out. Easy lay.

And he wasn’t nervous.

Class ends, and he waits for everyone to make their way out. From experience over the last semester and a half, you were one of the last people to leave, taking your time considering you didn’t have any more courses after this one ended at noon on Tuesdays until 5pm. Once only a few stragglers are left, he grabs his books and saunters over, plastering on one of his most breathtaking grins ( if he did say so himself ), then leaning against your desk. You don’t look at him, blatant disinterest emanating off of you, but he forges forward.

“So… I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner tonight?” he asks, preening over how quick all the past yeses came. Men and women fell all over him like water rolls over stone in riverbeds,

“No.”

“Great, I was thinking maybe that new Italian joint—,” Satoru pauses. Blinks. Registers your words. “…What?”

“No. Is a two letter word so difficult for you to understand?” Satoru is… shocked, for lack of a better word. He’d never actually been told no before.

“But… why?” His question is whinier than he’d intended, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. You narrow your eyes up at him.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you — but if you must know, I go on dates with the man I intend to be in a relationship with,” you say honestly, and Satoru fights back a snort. “I don’t date someone who’s only good for a quick fucking session.”

“I’m boyfriend material!” he cries indignantly, offended despite the fact that he’d never kept a relationship for more than a few months out of sheer boredom, and you pause before looking him up and down.

“…Mhmm,” is your only reply, and he pouts. You go back to finishing up, and he thinks for a moment, drumming his fingers against the surface of your desk before shrugging.

“Interested in hooking up, then?” he asks, and you glance up at him questioningly. “We don’t have to date, we could just have sex.” Not that you’d want to keep him as ‘just a fuckbuddy’ for too long, Satoru thinks.

You hum softly, seeming to think it over, then give a slight nod. “Sure, we can fuck,” you say with a lazy shrug, then sigh. “But no feelings. I’m not interested, especially not with someone who has a reputation like yours.”

“You say that now, but you’re gonna be beggin’ for me to be your boyfriend,” Satoru chuckles, and you roll your eyes.

“Don’t hold your breath,” you reply, sounding amused as you cross your arms, and without missing a beat he waggles his eyebrows at you, and you raise one of your own. “What?”

“Wanna get started on this friends-with-benefits thing now? My car’s in the parking lot,” he grins, and you look completely unimpressed.

You resume picking up your notebooks and textbook, shoving them in your backpack and steadfastly refusing to look at his goofy expression. “I’m not fucking in your dirty-ass backseat,” you reply grumpily. “I might catch something.”

“I’ll have you know my car is amazing and clean and perfect,” Satoru retorts, acting as if his feelings are hurt, and you scoff.

“Not with you as a driver. Didn’t you hit a sorority mailbox last month?”

He’s silent for a moment. “We’re in philosophy class, you know. Most philosophers say that it’s ‘unwise to root yourself in the past’.”

You just blink at him, then roll your eyes again and slide your laptop into your bag. “That alone tells me everything I need to know.”

“Y’know, you’re really mean,” he pouts, and you have to fight off the urge to smile. Sometimes he was amusing, even though you didn’t want to admit it.

“I know. It’s one of my best traits,” you reply, swinging your bag over your shoulder. “See you in class.”

One week later, Gojo finally picks you up — that is, your shared Philosophy course ends and you both head to his car. You’ve both tossed your bags in the back and are sitting in the drive-through of a fast food place waiting on your coffees with you tapping away at your phone while he hands his card through the window so he can pay for the drinks you’d gotten along with his own.

He pulls forward after getting his card back, then brightens a little as he remembered the question he’d wanted to ask before he’d forgotten after asking if you wanted a drink.

“Do you want to type your address into my GPS so we can—“ Satoru starts, and his eyes widen when you interrupt him almost immediately.

“Not at my place. Never at my place, Gojo,” you snap, and he nods almost dumbly. He’d not expected you to be so stern about it, nor for you to deny him heading to your apartment or house or whatever ( especially considering his hookups typically didn’t care as long as they ended up with him in their bed. In the back of his mind an alarm bell rings, but he dumbly chose to ignore it.

“That’s — That’s fine, no problem, we can go to my place,” he replies, pushing a fake grin on his face. He watches you visibly relax back into the passenger seat, and relaxes himself before pulling up to the second window and taking your drinks. He hands you your drink then pulls away while sipping at his own Diet Coke, glancing at you every now and then as he drives back to his apartment rather than wherever you lived.

Part of him was nervous; he never really ever brought hookups back to his apartment — hell, he’d only brought like two of his prior girlfriends there, so this was a big break from his normal meet-up for sex. Still, he’d talked so much shit to Suguru when he’d said he’d manage to fuck you, so he couldn’t back out now.

He’d taken out the trash yesterday, right?

He pulls into the parking lot of his apartment, easing into his spot and putting the car in park before taking a breath and leaning back. You aren’t paying him any attention, still in your phone apparently texting someone from what he could see from the corner of his eye, and once you’re done you lock your phone before turning your body to face him in his seat.

You ask quietly, “Gojo… are you sure you want to do this?” and he pauses as he starts unclipping his seatbelt.

“Yeah, of course! Why would I, uh — Why wouldn’t I?” he asks, nodding with a smile. You raise an eyebrow.

“You’re acting nervous.” You deadpan, and he laughs.

“Nervous? I’m not nervous! Let’s fuck, babe,” he says brightly, opening his car door and hopping out as you shrug and unclip your own belt.

“…Don’t call me babe, but whatever. If you’re sure,” you say lazily, then add, “By the way, three of my friends know I came home with you, and I just dropped a location pin in a group chat, so… it’d be easier if you weren’t some creepo murderer.”

Satoru laughs again, this time actually amused. “That’s great, they’ll know the location of the best dick in Japan! Second floor.”

You scoff, but follow him up the stairs, stopping only as he fishes his keys out of his pocket and works on getting them in the lock. Eventually it pops into place, and you follow him inside, toeing off your shoes and following him quietly, eyeing him as he takes his loose coat off and tosses it on the back of his couch before following his lead to the bedroom. He lets you come in before turning to close the door, and is surprised when he turns and your shirt is already on the floor and you’re working on wiggling out of your tight skirt.

“I — oh! Like to do the work yourself, huh?” He jokes, and you scoff through a playful smile.

“Please. If we fuck and you just lay there, the entire campus will hear about it before midnight, I promise,” You reply. Satoru just grins.

“Who says we’ll be done by midnight?” He asks cheekily, and you laugh again.

“Gojo Satoru, it is two in the afternoon,” you say, and he laughs and starts unbuckling his belt.

“And?” he purrs, tossing it aside and kicking his pants away after they pool around his ankles, leaving his boxers on as you kick off your own skirt, leaving you in a mismatched bra and underwear set. He’s discovered he much prefers you this way — almost naked and ready to joke around with him — rather than the way you were cold and quiet in class. You actually seemed human here, and he was starting to understand why Suguru had said you were easy to be around; Satoru had thought he was lying just to fuck with him, but apparently you were typically this way in the bedroom and at parties after a few drinks. It was an interesting thing about you to learn in all honesty.

He presses his front to yours, wasting no time and dipping his head down to kiss you, mashing your lips together hard and his hands snake behind your back and unclip your bra at the same time that you slip the condom you’d taken out of your bra between your teeth and hook your thumbs in the waistband of his own underwear and push them down. He steps out of them as you stumble backwards towards his bed, leading him along before falling back with him on top of you, both of you still kissing.

You start to unwrap the condom. “You’re a good kisser,” you mumble into his mouth, reaching one hand down to shimmy out of your panties while the other tangles itself in his hair, tugging lightly. Once they’re over the edge of the bed they fall to your ankles and you just step out of them, reaching between your bodies and slipping the condom down his shaft with an experienced sort of ease that faintly amused him.

“Why the tone of surprise?” Satoru laughs, nipping at your bottom lip before starting to kiss a line down your throat, savoring the area over your pulse point as you let out soft, happy sighs.

“Mmm, kinda thought you’d have loser dick — but like, a real loser, not the sexy kind,” you reply honestly, and Satoru would have been offended if he wasn’t so fucking horny. He just laughs against your hot skin and keeps kissing, about to kneel when you tug him back up. “Don’t need your mouth on my cunt, need your cock in me,” you grunt, and Satoru barely chokes back the whimper that threatens to escape him.

“G-Gotta — Gotta prep you,” he argues as you reach between your bodies and grip his dick in an almost too-perfect grip.

“Prepped myself before class, and I’m plenty soaked,” you reply, pressing his head in. He doesn’t bother trying to hide the low groan that tumbles from his lips at the thought of you fingering open the hot cunt he was so close to, then sitting in class with him only a few seats away, ready and waiting for him to fill you. “Plus I enjoy the stretch. Don’t pussy out now, Gojo.”

“Stop calling me Gojo when I’m about to be balls deep in you,” Satoru growls, and you just laugh with a defiant glint in your eye.

“You gotta earn me saying your first name, loser boy,” you taunt, and he narrows his eyes before bottoming out in one go, watching in satisfaction as your eyes widen and your pupils blow further all at once… then the feeling hits.

“God, you’re fucking tight,” he groans, letting his head fall. “Fuckin’ hot too.”

“Don’t tell me slippin’ it in is gonna do it for you,” you whisper, and Satoru forces himself to pull out, his eyes squeezing shut at the perfect friction in the glide of his cock slipping out of you, before thrusting back in.

He starts a steady pumping of his hips, taking you over the edge of the bed like a beast on its bitch at a breeding bench. He can feel your nails digging into his back and scalp and it makes him make a tight fist in the sheets, soft moans falling from his mouth as he fucks into you desperately.

“F-Fuck — Oh god, Satoru, you fucking bastard-!” you moan, holding tight as he ruts into you, and he laughs breathlessly through a moan of his own.

“E-Earned it already?” he asks playfully, and you laugh through a moan yourself.

“Again, thought you were a real loser. Now shut up and keep fucking me,” your words come out in a low purr as you toss one arm around his neck, amd he busies himself with doing as told, not bothered by taking a command to fuck your willing body like this.

Soft groans of your name and his coupled with cursing and cries for God fill the room as the two of you fuck, your sweat and precum smearing across both of your bodies as you both get closer and closer to orgasm. “C’mon, just like that — gonna cum, gonna cum!” you whisper, and Satoru presses closer and keeps his pace and position the same, listening to the way your voice pitches. He’s been on the verge of cumming himself for the past fifteen minutes, but he’d be damned if he came before you the first time the two of you fucked — not when you still somehow thought he was a loser.

“Cum for me, babe, cum for me—“ he half-begs lowly, and you huff through a moan.

“What did I — did I say about calling me babe?” you ask, and he shakes his head.

“Sorry, sweetheart — God, please, just fucking cum already!”

You laugh a little, a laugh that breaks apart like brittle ice at the end as your pussy starts clenching tightly around his cock and you dig your nails into his skin hard enough to leave marks. “Fuck — fuck, fuck — fuckfuckfuck, cumming-!”

Satoru’s eyes roll back in his head at the feeling of you clenching so tightly around him, and the sounds of your cries as you cum around have his own falling from his lips as he fills the condom wrapped around his cock and you slowly relax completely into the bed, unmoving aside from a couple stray twitches and a lazy hand against his chest to get him off of you. He falls bonelessly onto the bed next to you, tugging the condom off and tossing it into the trash can by his bed before returning to letting his legs dangle off of the side of bed with his feet flat against the floor like yours.

He waits a moment, enjoying the silence between you both before asking, “Well?”

You make a confused noise and turn to look at him. “Well what?” you ask, amd he chuckles.

“Am I a loser?” he asks cheekily, and you laugh brightly.

“Oh, definitely. Big loser energy from you, Satoru,” you reply.

“What?!” he exclaims, turning onto his side to look at you head on, and you laugh again and nod as you sit up and stretch with your arms over your head.

“Yep. But hey — you’re a loser with good dick,” you offer, standing on slightly wobbly legs, and start to get dressed.

“What a comfort,” he mutters, acting annoyed, and you see through it just as he knew you would.

“It should be,” you reply, zipping up your skirt then putting on the shirt you’d thrown over your forearm. “See you later, loser. My ride’s outside.”

Satoru’s quiet for a second, unused to girls just leaving, much less having already called cars to wait for them outside while he fucks them, “…Yeah, later…” And you’re out the door in less than five minutes with nothing but a wave and a yawn.

After a moment he stands and makes his way into the kitchen, peeping out the window to see you climb into the passenger side of a car driven by someone with short pink hair. He sighs.

The sex was good — but today did not go like he’d expected.

𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦: 𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐒. 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 — 𝟎𝟗.𝟐𝟏𝐏𝐌

𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐒. 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 dropped a pin!

meet me at starbucks

i’m getting a coffee

then we can fuck or wtv

𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦: 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲 ! — 𝟎𝟗.𝟐𝟏𝐏𝐌

why r u getting coffee at 9pm

𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐒. 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 — 𝟎𝟗.𝟐𝟐𝐏𝐌

don’t ask questions your tiny brain can’t understand the answers to

𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦: 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲 ! — 𝟎𝟗.𝟐𝟐𝐏𝐌

i literally only asked why ur getting coffee so late :(

ur so mean :((

𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐒. 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 — 𝟎𝟗.𝟐𝟐𝐏𝐌

and yet u still like to fuck me?? lmfao loser

Satoru throws his phone down on the passenger’s side seat, pouting with a huff and drumming his fingers against the top of the steering wheel as he slowly follows the line of traffic towards the Starbucks you’d pin dropped, and he sees you before you see him. You’re texting someone, a large coffee in hand, and you look… happy. Satoru didn’t think he’d ever actually seen you smile a real smile before, not in class when you’d ignored him for months before he’d proposed being fuckbuddies and not even during the last couple months that the two of you had been hooking up. Every now and then in between fucking each other he’d catch you gazing down at your phone with a fond look in your eyes, but he didn’t really ask about it anymore; you always dodged his questions, and it always led to you being in a foul mood and leaving him. He learned quickly to just… not say anything and let you do your own thing so he could empty his balls and you stay happy and with him.

Stay with him? God, what was the matter with him? He sounded like a clingy high-schooler, desperate to keep their first relationship. No, he was supposed to sleep with you once, get off, then go laugh about it with Suguru — not… whatever he was doing. It had been six months, why was he still here — fuck, who was he kidding? Satoru knew exactly why he was still here: he liked you. A lot.

He’s in too deep, and now he can’t back out.

You open the passenger side door, disrupting him from his thoughts. “Hmm, on time as usual. Desperate, huh?” you ask, sipping at your coffee, and it takes everything in Satoru to scoff at your words and start up the car as you clip on your seatbelt, because the answer was yes. He is desperate. He wants you, wants to hold your hand and take photos with you and brag about how beautiful you are to Suguru and his other friends, and wants for the world to know that you were each other’s partner. He wants to kiss you, not in the sloppy way that left your lipstick smeared across your face as he fucked into you, but softly and slowly so you can tell with each tiny shift how much he loves you. Yeah, you’re mean to him, you make fun of him all the damn time — but god, does he fucking like it.

It’s a slow, careful motion when he reaches a hand over to first grasp at your thigh before moving over ever so slightly to hold your hand as he drives, and a pang bounces through his chest as you immediately tug your hand away and turn away from him.

He doesn’t try to touch you again for the rest of the car ride, and before he knows it he’s once again back at his apartment, the motions of making his way to the bedroom with you at his back all a blur. You’re on him before he can remind himself to breathe as the sight of you bare and vulnerable before him takes his breath away as it always does — but you aren’t vulnerable, are you? You’re closed off, all sharp corners and twisted smiles, but maybe — just maybe — he’s blunting them a bit.

“O-Oh God — oh, fuck-!” Satoru whimpers softly, his thick eyelashes fluttering as he fists his hands in the sheets beneath him while you bounce on his cock, tiny gasps falling from your lips as you swallow up all of his thick length. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes as drowns in the sensations of your sopping cunt taking him entirely, his fat tip slamming against your cervix with each rough drop down.

“Fuck yes, Satoru!” You hiss sharply, clenching around him and digging your nails into his shoulders. “Y’fill me up so fuckin’ good, ‘Toru-!”

“Yes, yes — fuckfuckfuck, c’mon!” Satoru whines, bucking his hips up to meet yours as they drop down harshly. “You’re so fucking hot, sweetheart, so fuckin’ wet!”

Lewd wet noises and the slapping of bare flesh along with the crude banging of his headboard against the walk fill the bedroom, mixing with the sounds falling from your lips, as well as his. Satoru sits up, wrapping and arm around your middle as yours instinctively loop around his shoulders, your lips catching his in a searing kiss that sends a fond warmth from his mouth all the way down to his toes.

“God, yes,” you moan into his mouth, “So fuckin’ good, Satoru — don’t stop, don’t stop-!”

“Won’t, can’t, won’t stop!” Satoru promises through a moan of his own, a deep groan following it triggered by the feeling of your tongue running along his. His fingers dig into your skin hard enough to bruise as you tear your mouth away from his in order to latch onto his neck and bite down, nipping and kissing and sucking as his head falls back in time with the feeling of the soft heat kindling in his belly start growing hotter and hotter. “F-Fuck — damn it, m’gonna cum!”

“Cum for me, Satoru,” you whine sharply, and he whimpers a little.

“B-But you-?” he starts, his words devolving into a garbled moan as you pick up the pace.

“I’m close too — c’mon, ‘Toru, cum with me!” You plead softly, and Satoru needs no further prodding. He clings to you tightly as he starts cumming, his own fingernails digging into your skin as his hips buck up messily into your welcoming hips with each new burst of cum. Your voice pitches in the way he knows it does during your own orgasm, and he forces the haze away just enough so that he can look at you and watch you fall apart on his lap.

God, you’re beautiful.

The two of you bask in the moment for about ten minutes before you finally end it, pulling away and staggering into the bathroom in the hallway to piss. Satoru sighs and tosses the condom in the trash can after tying it off, falling back against his bed with an arm thrown over his eyes. He can hear you come back into the bedroom, can hear you moving around, assumingly so you can no doubt be ready to leave again — which is why he’s surprised at the feeling of the blankets beneath him being thrown back and the mattress dipping beneath your weight.

He stares at you in surprise as you begin making yourself comfortable, fluffing your pillow and finding the spot on the side of the bed you’d chosen before you finally catch him staring. “Go to sleep, Gojo,” you mutter, shimmying around beneath the blankets as you try to get comfortable in a technically strange bed.

His eyes widen in half-wanting shock. “You’re staying the night?” Satoru asks hopefully, and you sigh.

“I’m tired,” you reply simply. “Now go to sleep.”

Sayoru nods wildly, his heart pounding. You were staying the night — you were staying. With him. “Yeah… yeah! Okay. Sleep. I can do that!”

You nod tiredly. “Good,” you say, amd you click off the lamp on the nightstand next to you as Satoru does the same. An odd silence fills the room as Satoru follows your previous motions of getting ready to rest before finally getting comfortable under the blankets.

He rolls over to rest on his side, staring at the way you lay with your back to him. “…Goodnight,” Satoru murmurs quietly, lacing his fingers through yours. It doesn’t sting as harshly as before when you move your hand away, considering you do allow him to drap his arm over your waist while pressing his chest to your back. You’re silent for a moment, but you do eventually respond as his warmth begins to seep into you.

“…Goodnight, Satoru,” you say, and he hums drowsily.

You’re both asleep within fifteen minutes. Neither of you comment on how well the two of your bodies slot together outside of sex.

It’s 1am when Satoru wakes up, his vision blurry and the red numbers on his bedside clock more aggressive than he remembered.

Blearily he pats the mattress behind himself, wondering why he’d turned away from you in his sleep, and finds nothing but cool sheets, which leads him to rolling over. He’s startled, almost certain he’ll find the bathroom light on in the hallway, but no — it’s darker than he’d like, even at twenty-three, and you’re not here. Snatching up his cellphone, a quick scan of it tells him all he needs to know.

You left him.

Again.

Three days later, Satoru finds himself parked in front of the dining hall on campus, waiting for you to come out, likely followed by one or two of your friends. After waiting about ten minutes, you do just that — only you’re walking closer to an older man in a suit than he for some reason felt comfortable with, and he moves around in his seat a little to get comfortable while watching your interactions with the man with narrowed eyes. He grits his teeth for a moment when the man touches your arm in a too-casual way, then crosses his own when he sees you smile at him. The two of you stop on the sidewalk several paces from his car, then finally split off.

“So… Who was that old guy?” he asks as you slip into the passenger seat, and you pause as you put your bag in the backseat. He doesn’t want to just foolishly believe that you’re genuinely confused, but he also doesn’t want to think ill of you without reason, so he ‘decides’ to withhold judgment for now.

“What?” you ask, confused, and he sighs in blatant annoyance.

“The old guy. The one you were literally just talking to,” he grouses. “The one who was getting so touchy.”

“‘Old guy’ — wait, the blond?” You ask, almost in a shocked way, and he nods. You snort; Satoru doesn’t know what’s so funny. “That was professor Kento — my History professor,” you reply, and Satoru can feel his cheeks heat up a little, but he refuses to look at you as you start laughing.

“Oh my god! You were fucking jealous of Professor Kento?!” you giggle, and while he’s embarrassed he can’t deny that he enjoys the sound, even if it was at his own expense. What the hell was wrong with him? “That’s so fucking wild — like c’mon man, we aren’t even dating. If I wanted to fuck Professor Kento, it wouldn’t even fucking matter.” A lump settles in Satoru’s throat at your words.

Yes, it would.

“But… you aren’t, right?” Satoru asks carefully as he pulls the car out of park, and you sigh.

“No, Satoru. I’m not going to fuck my History professor.” you say softly, blatantly amused, but it’s too late now — Satoru’s upset, and he can’t stop the words from coming out.

“Because I just — I don’t want anyone else with you like me, y’know?” he asks, almost paranoid. He fails to notice the way you stiffen next to him and forges on, his heartbeat quickening as his panic picks up. “It’s just — really like you. Like a lot. And it scares me. But it doesn’t scare me enough to not want you to myself, you know? I just want you and want to be with you and—“

“Take me home.”

Satoru pauses. “W-What?” he asks, uncertain of the icy tone you’d taken on when interrupting him.

“My address is in your GPS,” you say quietly, then repeat yourself. “Take me home.”

“But-“ Satoru whispers, but you shake your head almost violently.

“Now. Or I’ll walk,” you threaten lowly, and that’s all it takes for him to listen. The rest of the car ride is spent in silence until he reaches your apartment. You’re out of the car before he can say your name, and he’s following you before he can even ask himself why.

He’s right behind you as you go into your kitchen, watching in surprise as you pull out a large bottle of wine from the fridge while simultaneously throwing open a cabinet next to the refrigerator in order to pull out a wine glass. You pull the cork out, fill the glass, and empty it in one go before refilling it again.

Tentatively, Satoru says, “Please, I just — I think I’m in love with you. Can’t we talk about this?” and you laugh borderline hysterically.

“And say what?! What do you expect of me, Gojo?” you ask, your tone harsh enough to make him flinch, but he answers you anyway.

“I… I want you to be my girlfriend,” he says softly, feeling smaller than he ever had before.

You laugh again, this time less hysterically and more in disbelief. “No,” You say, and Satoru blinks in shock.

“What? N-No?” He asks, voice shaky.

“No!” you snap icily, turning back to your wine. You empty your glass again as Satoru begins to reflect on the situation at hand; it’s bitterly ironic, the deja vū he’s feeling. This conversation is brutally close to the first time he’d asked you out all those months ago with the sole goal in mind being getting in your pants and ditching you, whether that meant hurting you in the process or not. How poetically cruel ( and simultaneously deserved ) that he’s the one hurt in the end.

“Can I ask why?” he finally asks, and you turn around tk face him again, your eyes wild and cold.

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” you growl, and he lifts his hands in surrender while nodding in agreement.

“I know that, I just—“ Satoru swallows hard. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Do something wrong? God, Gojo, yes! You asked me to be your fucking girlfriend — I literally said before we ever fucked that you couldn’t catch feelings, what is wrong with you?!

“I didn’t mean to,” he whispers, his chest filled with a stabbing pain he’d nkt ever expected to experience while in your company.

“What does that matter now?! This thing we’ve been doing is over,” you mutter, taking a long drink of your wine. Satoru’s eyes widen exponentially, and the panic begins to set in anew.

“Over?!” he exclaims, shaking his head a little, and you scoff.

“Of course it’s over!” You snap angrily, pointing at him accusingly. “You ruined it! Feelings were never supposed to be involved!”

Satoru wilts completely.

“I’m sorry,” he says, just as quietly as before, and you sigh audibly as you lean against the counter.

“An apology won’t fix this,” you say bitterly. Satoru wants to argue, wants to assure you that he can be good and do better, that the two of you don’t have to stop seeing each other, but he’s instead startled when the door to the entry hall opens without warning, and he spins to glance at the doorway like whoever came in is intruding as you groan and cross your arms after putting down your wine, covering your eyes with one hand at the same time.

“C’mon Yuuji, kick your shoes off under the coat rack,” a deep voice rumbles, and a man with pink hair strolls in like he owns the place. Satoru would be extremely alarmed if you’d seemed so yourself, but you made no move to react, apparently used to the man being in your apartment. “I’m gonna grab a beer from the kitchen and see if she’s home yet.” His eyebrows raise with ill-concealed interest when he finally lays them on Satoru. “And who are you?”

“Who are you?” Satoru parrots quietly, a sickening feeling twisting his stomach as his mind thinks up just what scenario could lead to a random man in your apartment — but was he random?

Roommates. Please, please just be roommates, Satoru finds himself begging in his kind, though no one could hear him.

“I’m one of the two people on the lease of this apartment, and the boyfriend of the woman behind you,” the man says, narrowing his eyes; a jolt of nausea stabs through Satoru’s stomach. “I’ll ask again: who are you?”

“He’s no one, Sukuna,” you mutter, sounding annoyed. Yet another sharp pain shocks through Satoru’s chest, and he turns back to look at you in disbelief as you walk past him and wrap your arms around Sukuna’s waist, hugging him. Your voice is muffled by his chest when you say, “Welcome home, baby,” and he kisses the crown of your head and you let go, drifting over to the younger looking ( also very confused and clearly a little uncomfortable ) boy who resembles ‘Sukuna’. “C’mon Yuuji, help me set up the new console Sukuna and I got last Friday.”

The teenager follows without hesitation, the awkwardness on his face from the odd altercation fading as he starts talking to you excitedly about some boy in his Biology II class he thinks is cute, and suddenly Satoru is left alone with Sukuna. The other man is staring at him, and it's making him uncomfortable.

“Y’slept with her?” he asks finally, and again Satoru is startled. He just slowly nods, and Sukuna shrugs and moves past him to the fridge, fishing out a beer and popping the top off before taking a large swig. “No big deal. You’re not the first she’s run around with.”

Satoru’s startled all over again. “You… don’t care?”

“Oh, I absolutely care! I’ll have you know I’m a damn jealous man — but I know I’ve got nothing to worry about,” Sukuna chuckles, looking completely unbothered as he shrugs again. “She’s my woman after all — has been since junior high.” He laughs, takes another drink, and continues while making his way over to the bottle of wine and the half empty glass she’d left on the counter. “Hell, she even officially adopted my kid brother with me when our grandfather died last year — Pretty sure she and I are set.”

Satoru feels sick, and he wants to go home. He understands now, he realizes that he never had a claim to your heart at all. God, he was an idiot.

Sukuna hums slightly in thought, tipping his head to the side ever so slightly. “Her sleeping around every now and then makes the sex better though. Every now and then we’ll agree we wanna spice things up, and she’ll pick some poor idiot to fuck. It makes me angry, gets me all jealous and possessive, and since we both love it when I fuck her like I hate her — even if that couldn’t be farther from the truth — it’s a double win.”

“So you just — you cheat on each other just to boost your sex?” Satory asks, completely in disbelief. Sukuna just scoffs and shakes his head, knocking back the rest of his beer before chasing it with the remnants of what you had left in your wine glass before crossing his arms.

“Nah, she’s it for me — never been interested in anyone else. Besides, I know she’ll always come back to me. She’s proven that today, hasn’t she?”

That stung — but he wasn’t wrong. You had proven yourself to your boyfriend again, and Satoru looked like nothing but a fool.

“Go home, Gojo,” Sukuna finally says, finally sounding annoyed. It seems his patience with Satoru being in his home has run as thin as possible. “She’s never going to love you, so leave. There’s nothing for you here.”

Absently Satoru wonders how Sukuna could possibly know his name when he’d never given it, until he registers that Sukuna must have known the entire time who he was because you’d told him about him, and didn’t that just make it worse? He’d been an idiot, had been so damn sure that you’d love him back.

Fuck. Just like before, Gojo Satoru was not nervous.

He was heartbroken instead.

𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © { 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 } 𝐛𝐲 𝟒𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐒. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭.

#satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you

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fakeoutbf · 2 years

Text

#idk how to tag this or if it needs a tw #anxiety tw #i guess?? but not really #i’ve cried three times today and even did something i shouldn’t have to myself today out of sheer anger and hurt #i never thought i would cry over a fucking job but here i am #my boss is so manipulative #from the moment we started working together and especially after we met in person i told her she could text me anytime and that we could #if something came up and that we could deal with it together #if anything i wanted to process to be as transparent as possible so we didn’t have to be guessing in the end #and she even asked how i liked to work and what things i did that i liked and worked and i told her everything trusting her and trusting #that we could work together to pull off the monthly project as always #instead she starts keeping things from me and not sending in work on time and ignoring my texts and never sending the whole material #so when she finally airs me out to the whole fucking department i had nothing else to do but to fight back #bc i’m not going to let my work be diminished when i’m doing everything right #and i fucking hate myself for taking the bait and stooping down to her level but i can’t help it i got so mad #and i even had to stay in a meeting overtime just to hear our boss tell me that i dropped off the grid and completely closed off #but i’m not used to reaching out and i reached out as much as i could at the start and it fucking backfired #and all bc ppl spread rumors and bs that isn’t even true and ppl start thinking i’m not capable of doing shit #i know i was wrong not to talk about what i was doing or if i needed help but the process was all wrong and it all started going wrong #if i closed off was bc i knew i was gonna bite and snap at someone which wasn’t the point and i was handling my workload the way i knew how #but bc my boss is a mess i was missing half of the information to actually work properly and well #all this to say my boss is a bitch who basically threatened to fire me or have me moved and i hit my breaking point after a week or working #overtime and doing my very best to have everything done on time when they dumped everything on me at the last minute #idk what to do #i’m scared

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gremlingottoosilly · 5 months

Text

Under the Christmas tree [dark!141 x fem!Reader] (Secret Santa fic)

Secret Santa gift for @crash-and-live 141 had a wonderful time taking their combat medic to be their captive barracks bunny instead. Now, the Sergeants have decided you will make a wonderful gift for their COs. CW and Tags: Dub-con, poly!141, inappropriate celebration of Christmas, power imbalance, bondage, slight BDSM.

Gaz was always an expert on knots.

Fancy little ribbons and bows – not so much. He prides himself on being suspiciously quick to adapt to the changing environment, yes, but learning how to tie bows when your little captive is acting just a tad bit dismissive towards the whole idea is…hard. Not as hard as hanging down the rope on a moving helicopter, but…

— Come, luv. Stop strugglin’

He smiles, all teeth and no lies, when you – his favorite medic, the best thing ever happening to this bloody team – started meowling something about the circulation and cutting off the bloodstream and how you don’t exactly like not only being held in the basement of the base but also being tied up…he looks at you and just knows he can’t resist booping you on the nose, kissing your perfect fuckin cheeks while Soap already has his hands in your hair, gently brushing it to put even more ribbons and bows. Red, just like on a Christmax gift.

You’re a bloody gift.

— I ken ye don’t like sittin’ like this, but Lt needs pick me up, aye?

Soap smiles when you struggle just a bit more, your tied hands brushing against his stomach as you slowly buck your hips back. Trying to get just a tiny bit of stimulation, sneaky little lass – this is why he loves you, so smart and so adorably dumb at the same time. The best thing that ever happened to them is that you still act like you don’t enjoy being their shared chewing toy. They can agree it’s just a bit of a stretch from your previous working environment but hell, at least you’re not being shot at. Johnny’s hand gently moves from your head to your neck, adjusting the little red bow he made from the ribbons. They tried so hard to find the softest ever ribbons without a sharp edge and material that could cut off the circulation – even though Kyle was still doing his favorite knots that rendered you absolutely defenseless. You lick your lips and try to rock from side to side, making the ribbons a bit more loose – it doesn’t work, of course. Not like your team ever wanted you to have a say in their perverse desires, right?

You fell into the Stockholm syndrome quite easily, especially since they were so stuck on always respecting your wishes(except for letting you out, of course) and never forcing anything too harsh…up until now, apparently. Making sure you’re on your best behavior because it’s Christmas, they have a small table set up – beer, whiskey, some snacks that you naively put on because you’re still not allowed to cook, and they don’t really care for home-cooked meals – and your shaking form, twisted in a somewhat sexy pose all because they needed a little Christmas present for their CO’s.

Gaz brushes his hand on your tummy, gently pushing it down – you were prepared, of course, so much lube was out in your glossy folds, with Soap’s mouth buried deep between your legs, until you felt you’re going to pass out from the sheer amount of orgasm he was edging out of you. There is a reason why Johnny isn’t allowed to eat you out when Ghost isn’t around – his self-control is non-existent when push comes to your cunt and the tongue he can shove in.

You feel like you’re going to burst when you finally hear the door opening. When you finally hear Captain – his tired, gruff voice, the way Ghost’s jacket silently hits the ground as they start to undress. Usually, you’re made to greet them with kisses and your soft lips on their cocks if they feel particularly tired. Usually, you’re made to wait for them in the bedroom, with their sergeants gently playing with you because, of course, you’re the property of all four of them, no matter the power dynamic.

Nothing is usual now – you’re laying under a Christmas tree, naked and aroused, your pussy is all puffy and swollen from Soap’s tongue, your body is tied up with red ribbons Gaz was using. You want to be good for them, and so you lay here, hoping your obedience will be enough for a few more climaxes. Ghost is the first to put his hands on you.

Kneading your breasts, gently forcing his rough fingers on your exposed nipples, you’re so sweet for him, so perfect, laid out like a beautiful gift – he can only groan in arousal as he slowly pushes the ribbons from your chest, taking in the view of your hardened buds and bite marks – evidence of Kyle taking his mark while he was tying you up. You might have been apprehensive about the whole idea, but you’re playing the role of a gift perfectly – just like you should.

— Bloody hell, love. So pretty for us.

— She was such a good girl for us, Lt. Didnae even resisted much. ~ — Is that right, sweetheart?

You can only nod, your mouth stuffed with a pretty gag – you’re drooling all around it, looking fucking adorable as you try and look as harmless as possible. No reason to provoke them now when they already made it clear just how many orgasms they are going to take from you tonight.

Ghost smiles under his mask, his hands moving to play with your lower tummy, squeezing the soft flesh and teasing your folds – you’re soft and pliable for them, spread out like a perfect toy. The most desirable thing they could ever find under a Christmas tree.

Price caresses your face with a softness you didn’t know a man of his position could have. He kisses you, and his whiskers tickle your soft skin – you aren’t sure if you can even handle him being so damn gentle about everything. He laughs as you try to wiggle out of Ghost’s grasp, their hands laying on your body – bruises and marks are scattered across your skin, making you the perfect canvas. Gosh, you’re beautiful – John doesn’t even know what they did to deserve such a little treat. — Such a pretty display for us, eh?

— Sergeants outdid themselves this time.

— You bet they did. Are you goin’ to behave for us, love?

Price smiles when you whimper, spreading your legs like a pretty toy. Ghost already pushing you to the ground, forcing his way in between your thighs – you’re so open for them, vulnerable to the tip of his cock pressing in your folds already. Soap did a good job eating you out, even Simon’s cock won’t be too much – not after the way Gaz was spreading you on three of his fingers, smiling with each of your little attempts at moans. You know the night is going to be long.

#cod #cod x reader #call of duty #captain price x reader #price x reader #john price #captain john price #soap #soap x reader #soap mw2 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #dark ghost #dark 141 #141 x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick

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libraryofgage · 8 months

Text

Librarian Steve :)

Was talking to a friend about people (specifically this one kid that gives such Dustin energy hfjdks) I meet at work (I'm a librarian) and that evolved into this plot bunny so:

Librarian Steve, rock star Eddie, and the 5 times Steve pretends he doesn't know who Eddie is while they flirt + 1 time Steve reveals he knew about Eddie's rock star status the whole time

There is also, definitely, at some point, going to be a second part where the kids keep just barely missing Eddie and refuse to believe Steve is actually dating anyone but especially not Eddie Munson of all people

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't

One

Steve stares at the man on the other side of the circulation desk. He's wearing a Metallica shirt, ripped jeans, a guitar pick necklace, clunky rings on each finger, and an expression that says he's bracing himself for something painful.

Here's the thing: Steve knows who Eddie Munson is. It's hard to listen to alternative rock or punk or any other genre like that and not know Eddie Munson. It's hard to be a librarian who works primarily with kids in middle school and high school, all going through that painful, angsty phase that they express through music, and not know Eddie Munson.

So, yeah, Steve takes one look at the admittedly (incredibly) attractive guy and immediately knows he's Eddie Munson. Like, of Corroded Coffin fame. Of Rock n Roll Hall of Fame fame. Of platinum-level album sales fame. Of--okay, his point has probably been made.

Anyway, yeah, Steve knows this is Eddie Munson, and while he'd love to say he's a fan and smile at Eddie and maybe ask for an autograph, Steve also grew up as a Small Town Rich Kid. So he knows that look on Eddie's face, the one that says he's bracing himself for someone to start fawning over him and potentially ask for uncomfortable favors or his number or any other request that's definitely crossing the line into invasive.

Steve easily makes the decision to pretend he doesn't recognize Eddie. So, he puts on his customer service smile and says, "Hello, how can I help you?"

The sheer relief in Eddie's eyes is more than enough to tell Steve he made the right choice. "Right, uh, this is my first time here," Eddie says, shifting slightly before placing his hands on the counter and drumming his fingers.

"Oh, congratulations," Steve says, his tone and smile becoming more genuine. "Did you come here to print something?"

Eddie shakes his head, reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a library card. "My friend has, like, a...hold? Yeah, a hold on something and asked me to pick it up," he explains.

Steve nods once and takes the card when Eddie offers it. He scans it and watches the computer load for a few seconds before opening an account window for someone named Asher Katz. "Since you aren't the cardholder," Steve says, navigating to the "Additional Information" tab in the account, "I'll need you to tell me the four-digit pin or code word connected to the account."

He clearly wasn't expecting that requirement, and Eddie flounders for a moment. "Is that a requirement?" he asks.

With an apologetic smile, Steve nods. "Yeah," he says, stretching out the word as he tries to think. "Oh, you could also call him and have him tell me the pin. Then I could confirm that it's okay for you to check out materials on his behalf."

"This is a lot of hoops for a book," Eddie says, frowning slightly as he takes out his phone.

"We have to make sure people's materials are secure. Also, we have to keep track of what people check out for the library's stats report at the end of each quarter."

Eddie looks like he understands about half of that, and Steve once again flashes an apologetic smile. After a few taps on the screen, Eddie glances around the library, ensuring it's empty, before putting the phone on speaker. The moment it picks up, and before Asher can speak, Eddie says, "Hey, man, I'm at the library. Can you tell, uh--" Eddie looks up to check Steve's nametag "--Steve what your pin is so I can check that book out."

A few seconds pass before Steve hears a sigh on the other end of the phone. "1234," Asher says.

"Seriously?" Eddie asks.

Steve glances at the account page, confirms the pin, and nods. "Could you also provide me with your code word?"

"Password."

"Dude!" Eddie says, staring at the phone like he's once again being reminded that his friend is a dumbass.

Steve checks the account again and nods once more. "Great, thank you. Could you confirm that...," Steve trails off, looking at Eddie expectantly.

Eddie blinks like he forgot Steve didn't know who he was and hesitates before clearing his throat and quietly saying, "Eddie."

"Thanks," Steve says, flashing another smile before looking at the phone and continuing, "Can you confirm that Eddie here is allowed to check out holds on your behalf?"

"Uh, yeah, that's fine, man."

"Great, thank you," Steve says, checking the card number once more before heading to the hold shelf behind the desk. He crouches and starts scanning stickers on the spines for Asher's last name and the last four digits of his number. Behind him, he hears Eddie say goodbye, his voice sounding a little strained for reasons Steve can't really figure out at the moment.

He finds the right book after a few moments and pulls it off the shelf. "Here it is," he says, walking over to the desk and pulling up the check-out window on his computer. He scans the library card once more, carefully pulls the sticker off the spine, and scans the book.

"It's due in two weeks, but if your friend needs more time, he can just give the library a call," Steve explains, passing the book and card back to Eddie with a smile. "Was there anything else I could do for you?"

Eddie just stares at him for a few seconds, his cheeks looking a little pinker than before, and Steve wonders if the building's A/C somehow gave up on life. Again. But he can hear it running so that definitely isn't it. "Uh, nope, that's it," Eddie says, gripping the book tightly in his hands, his rings pressing into the cover. "Thanks, Steve, appreciate it."

"Of course, man. Have a good day," Steve says with a genuine smile and wave as Eddie heads toward the door.

With a slightly awkward wave back, Eddie walks out the door, glancing back over his shoulder once before the door completely shuts. Once the library is empty again, Steve hears the door to the backroom open, and Robin practically slides up to the counter, leaning onto it next to him.

"Was that?" she asks. Steve instantly translates the question in his head: Was that Eddie fucking Munson?

"Yep."

"And did you?"

And did you just pretend you didn't know him?

"Yep."

"Did he?"

Did he catch on?

"Nope."

"Do you think?"

Do you think he'll be back?

Steve shrugs, glancing over at her. "Don't know," he says, pausing for a moment before adding, "He's hotter in person."

Robin barks out a laugh. "Maybe you'll actually get to flirt next time," she says, and Steve grins at her, kind of hoping she's right.

Two

Eddie returns exactly two weeks later, and Steve is lucky enough to once again be working a desk shift when he walks through the door. He's wearing a Nine Inch Nails shirt this time, and his hair is pulled back into a messy bun with strands escaping to frame his face. He goes up to the counter, focused on Steve and completely ignoring Robin sitting at another computer, and sets the book down. "I wanna return this. And get a library card for myself," he says.

Steve can't help a clearly amused smile as he takes the book and scans it in. "Do you have an ID with you?" he asks, sliding the book along the desk to rest next to Robin.

He ignores the glare she shoots at him before grabbing the book to place it on a reshelving cart for later.

"Yeah, do I need anything else?" Eddie asks.

As Steve shakes his head, he leans over to grab a library card application from a small organizer. He places it in front of Eddie and passes him a pen as well. "Just fill that out," he says, leaning forward on the counter as Eddie picks up the pen.

"So, uh, what can I do with a library card?" Eddie asks, glancing up at Steve briefly before focusing on carefully writing. His letters are blocky but awkward like he's consciously thinking about how he's writing each one.

Maybe he just doesn't want to risk his writing being recognized, too? From what Steve remembers of the signatures he's seen, Eddie's handwriting is fairly distinctive.

"You can borrow up to 75 materials at one time, place items on hold, use the computers, and you get one dollar of printing credit that renews each day," Steve lists, tilting his head slightly as he watches Eddie write.

"That's it?"

Steve snorts, raising an eyebrow at Eddie when he looks up. "Oh, that's not enough for you?" he asks, unable to help a slight grin, "You can use it at any library within our system, too. So you'll still have options if you get banned from this one."

"Oh? And what would I be banned for?" Eddie asks, his writing pausing long enough to meet Steve's gaze once more and smirk at him.

"I wonder," Steve says, not missing the way Eddie's gaze drops to his lips for less than a second before moving back up.

Holy shit, he's flirting with Eddie Munson.

"I can also help you find books to read based on what you've liked previously," Steve adds, somewhat clumsily pulling back from the flirting. It's only Eddie's second time here, and he doesn't want to let himself get too caught up in...well, Eddie when there's no guarantee he'll be back.

Eddie hums softly as he looks back at the application. "Oh? What would you recommend for me?" he asks.

"What's your favorite book?"

"The Hobbit."

"What did you like about it?"

"The adventure and the characters."

"Do you prefer fantasy? What about sci-fi?"

"Yeah, those are fine."

Steve hums softly, thinking as Eddie sets the pen down and slides the application to him. "Thanks. I also need to see your ID," Steve says, opening a drawer in the desk and pulling out a library card. He scans it, a new account window popping up and waiting to be filled out.

"What's the ID for?" Eddie asks.

"To confirm that you live in our service area," Steve explains, taking the ID when Eddie offers it. He glances at the photo briefly, confirming that it is, in fact, Eddie Munson, and then double-checks the address. It matches what Eddie wrote on the application, so he nods and slides the ID back to him.

"That's it?"

Steve nods, beginning to type Eddie's information into the account page. "Yeah, that's it," he says, glancing up and smiling at Eddie, "Anyway, I think you'll enjoy the Murderbot Diaries. It's about a cyborg that hacks its control module, thinks about maybe going on a killing spree, and then discovers TV instead. It then just goes on adventures through space while fighting, like, capitalism and corporations."

"Sounds pretty badass," Eddie says, leaning forward on the counter like he wants to get a peek at the computer. "How long is it?"

"It's mostly novellas, so they're quick reads."

"Got any copies here?"

Steve hums, entering the last of Eddie's information. "I can check," he says, "but first, I need a code word for your account. Like, if you forget your pin or have someone else come pick up a hold, this word will confirm it's you."

Eddie thinks for a few seconds, his gaze dropping to Steve's nametag once more. "Stevie," he says.

Steve's fingers falter, accidentally typing an incomprehensible key smash into the information field. He glances up at Eddie. "...as in Stevie Nix? Don't forget, this has to be something you'll remember," he says, raising an eyebrow.

With a playful grin and a wink, Eddie says, "Well, I think you're pretty unforgettable, Stevie."

A beat passes as Steve stares at Eddie, feeling a rush of heat to his cheeks. He clears his throat and looks back at the computer, hesitating for a second more before typing "Stevie" into the field and saving the account. When he's done, he slides the card to Eddie along with a Sharpie. "That's your card, please sign on the back."

He notices Eddie stiffen at the request, but Steve doesn't comment. As he instead searches the library's catalog, he tries to ignore the sheer panic coming from Eddie as he tries to figure out how to sign the card. Eventually, Eddie picks up the Sharpie and writes his name in the same awkward, blocky writing he used for the application.

"So," Steve says, getting Eddie's attention once more, "we don't have any copies of the first book here, but I can put it on hold for you. It should be here in around four days, and you'll get an email when it's available. Does that work?"

Eddie nods as he places the Sharpie down. "Sure, I'm happy to swing by and pick it up," he says, his tone and smile and the playful look in his eyes telling Steve there are more reasons than that for him to come by the library.

And as Steve places the book on hold for Eddie, he can't help a tiny, eager smile.

Three

The D8 sits innocently on the counter in front of Steve, marbled colors of blue and red with streaks of gold to complement the gold-painted numbers. Steve had immediately recognized it as Will's when he was cleaning the meeting room, and he knew the kid was probably losing his mind right now searching for it. He feels kind of bad knowing Will is going to lose all hope of finding it before his next visit to the library.

At the same time, though, he's looking forward to the expression of sheer joy on Will's face when he next comes in and Steve gives it back. Maybe it'll even score him a bonus point with Mike, and he'll be a little less of an asshole. Though, knowing Mike like he does, Steve is sure he'll just get jealous that Steve made Will smile like that instead of himself.

That kid is incredibly skilled at finding new grudges to hold.

"Whatcha got there, Stevie?"

Steve blinks, looking away from the D8 to find Eddie leaning on the counter, a familiar grin tugging at his lips. His hair is loose today, falling over his shoulders, and he's boldly wearing a Hellfire Club shirt, like he's confident that Steve won't recognize any of Corroded Coffin's merch.

Which, sure, Steve is great at pretending by now. Especially after he and Robin made a bet on whether Steve could keep the secret until Eddie asked him out. Steve has incredible faith in himself; Robin says he's too dumb and gay to last that long. So far, after around two months and multiple visits from Eddie, Steve is still going strong.

"A D8," Steve says, holding it between his thumb and forefinger so Eddie can see it clearly. "One of the kids left it behind yesterday."

"They were playing D&D here?" Eddie asks, tilting his head slightly as he holds his hand out.

Steve drops the dice into his hand, watching as Eddie inspects the gold numbers and hums softly with appreciation. "I host a weekly D&D program," Steve explains. "A group of regular kids plays, and they were getting a little disruptive when they played in the common area--" Steve gestures to the cluster of tables where the kids used to set up "--and the program gives them the meeting room for a whole afternoon."

Eddie looks up at him like he's just said he's a volunteer firefighter on the weekends. It's not an awe and appreciation that Steve really deserves, but he also can't help the slight puff of his chest when it's coming from Eddie. "Do you play, too?" Eddie asks.

"Sort of?" Steve frowns slightly, trying to remember how Dustin and Will explained his role during the campaign to him. "I'm, like, extras. Their DM, Will, wanted his, uh, NPCs? Yeah, NPCs. He wanted the NPCs to feel more real, so he'll give me, like, a little script before each session and then have me voice the NPCs and give me signals to guide my interactions."

"Signals?"

"Yeah, like, if I'm a shop owner and the characters bargain for stuff. He'll give me a signal of when their, like, rolls are effective or when they suck. And if I'm a villain NPC, he'll give me a signal of when to die and give dramatic monologues," Steve explains.

And Eddie grins again, his eyes practically sparkling with amusement and curiosity. "I kinda wanna hear a dramatic monologue," he says, propping his chin in his palm and looking at Steve expectantly.

He's clearly settled in to watch a show, and Steve isn't one to disappoint. Steve does a quick sweep of the library and confirms that it's just as empty as he remembers. Then, he sits up a little straighter in his chair, clears his throat, and tries to remember his whole dying monologue from the most recent session.

When he speaks, it's with a raspy voice, laced with pain and anger at being defeated, "Curse you, adventurers! You may have won the battle, but the war! The war yet rages, and you will be caught in its carnage! Savor this victory now, for it will be your last, and you will fa-"

Steve cuts off, grinning when Eddie blinks and pouts. "Why'd you stop?" he asks.

"Mike's character killed me before I could finish. Said my monologue was boring."

Eddie snorts, raising an eyebrow at that. "It sounds like your monologue was going to reveal info about the BBG."

"Yep. It was, but Will refused to tell them what the rest would've been, and Dustin threw his dice at Mike for killing me."

"He's lucky it was only that," Eddie says, completely serious, "I might've just killed him."

Steve can't help laughing, imagining Max leaping over the table to tackle Mike to the floor. She's done it before, actually, and the only thing that keeps her from attacking again is the knowledge that Steve will ban her from the library for at least a month if she gets violent again.

"He's lucky none of them want to be temporarily banned," Steve says.

"Oh? That's all it takes to get banned?" Eddie asks.

Steve smirks at the teasing lift to Eddie's question. "Yep, so you'd better watch yourself, Munson. I expect you to be on your best behavior," he says.

"I've never been very good at behaving."

"Great, you'll fit right in with the kids."

He looks up to see Eddie's smile growing wider, and Steve suddenly finds himself wondering how it would feel to kiss that smile away.

Four

Something library school never prepared Steve for is how overwhelmed certain days would make him. That's the thing about working with the public: some days are just never-ending, a line of patrons needing something practically wrapping through the stacks, meaning Steve can't turn off his customer service voice and smile.

Usually, he'll just escape to the back, lock himself in the employee bathroom, and take five minutes to cool down. Robin has gotten great at knocking on the door when the five minutes is up, pretending she needs to use the bathroom so the other staff members don't suspect Steve of breathing away a breakdown.

Today, though, Steve can't hide in the bathroom because of the music Robin is playing in the back. It's grating on his ears, scratching against his brain and down his spine like nails on a chalkboard, made all the worse by his interactions with an older patron with a voice that was rough and somehow rounded with sharp edges at the same time.

If Steve asked, Robin would definitely turn off the music, but he also saw her tense shoulders, how on edge she was, and how the music was the only thing helping her calm down. So Steve couldn't. Instead, he just said he was going to shelf-read the non-fiction section.

Because nobody goes into the non-fiction section. At least, nobody goes to the part of the section filled with encyclopedias. It's a safe corner, tucked into the back of the library where few people wander unless they're desperate for an outdated book of information that has no real bearing on their life.

So here Steve is, sitting on the floor with his knees pulled up to his chest and his eyes closed. This part of the library is quieter, but he can still hear the general ambiance of the building: people talking in hushed voices, the keyboards clicking as people type, chairs scraping against the floor as people pull them out.

And quiet footsteps coming closer. They're accompanied by the gentle sound of metal bouncing against itself. Steve doesn't open his eyes, but he does know that it's Eddie, and he's not at all surprised that Eddie managed to find him deep in the stacks.

It makes him feel a little warm, actually.

When Eddie reaches him, he doesn't speak. He just sits next to Steve, close enough for Steve to feel his presence without their shoulders touching. And he seems content to stay in silence for as long as needed, but Steve doesn't want silence. He wants to hear Eddie's voice; maybe it will override the discomfort of the music and the patron from earlier.

"Could you talk?" Steve asks, his voice soft and barely audible.

But Eddie hears him and scoots a tiny bit closer, letting their shoulders brush.

"I have opinions about library shelving because of you now. Like, why are science fiction and fantasy shelved together as one category? They're two different genres; they represent different things. One is a reflection of our society and all that it could be, an escape into something new, and the other is a reflection of what our society was through the eyes of a new world. And, like, it's not even the ones you think. They both embody different lessons and values and pairing them together is, like, demeaning to the hallmarks of the genres and what they can do for readers."

Yeah, that definitely sounds like an opinion about library shelving and cataloging. Steve can't help a soft laugh escaping him as he finally opens his eyes and looks at Eddie. "What started this?" he asks.

"There are Star Trek novels right next to, like, Seven Blades in Black on the shelves, Stevie. It's horrendous. What the fuck?"

Steve smiles a little, gently knocking their elbows together. "Unfortunately, I can't control how our cataloging department works," he says.

"Sounds like a skill issue to me," Eddie says, "Maybe you should just get good."

Steve barks out a laugh, covering his mouth with his hand at how loud it sounds. He glares at Eddie, his eyes holding no real heat.

Eddie grins right back and leans in a little closer. "Feeling better, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice soft and gentle and brushing against Steve's brain like a cool stream of water on a hot day.

It makes his shoulders relax, something in his stomach uncurling and draining all the tension from his muscles. "Yeah," he replies, "thanks."

"Anytime, Stevie," Eddie says, smiling at Steve like he's capable of hanging stars in the sky, like he'd do a backflip with a broken spine if Steve asked.

And Steve...Steve finds himself getting lost in Eddie's eyes, and he has no plans to find his way out anytime soon.

Five

Most of the library staff hates reshelving books, but Steve loves it. He doesn't have to use his brain beyond remembering the alphabet, and he can listen to music while he works, easily zoning out so the time passes quickly.

Which is what's happening now. He's probably been shelving for a while, but he's been listening to a Corroded Coffin playlist the entire time, humming along to Hellfire and Chains. His head is bobbing along to the music as he works, and he turns to grab another book off the reshelving cart only to find Eddie standing right behind him.

Steve jumps, his heart leaping into his throat as he chokes on air and Corroded Coffin notes. Eddie is staring at him with wide eyes, somewhere between afraid and infatuated, and Steve can't help asking, "What the fuck, man?" in a whispered voice.

"Whatcha listening to, Stevie?" Eddie asks, ignoring Steve's question.

Oh. If he admits to knowing Corroded Coffin's music, then he'll probably be giving up the whole "I know you're famous" thing, and based on Eddie's somewhat terrified look, that's not a great idea right now. But he also can't lie about the music because Eddie's going to recognize his own songs.

"Uh, Corroded Coffin, I think? I heard Lucas playing one of their songs. It sounded catchy and he sent me a playlist he'd made on Spotify," Steve explains.

It's not a lie, technically. That is how he discovered Corroded Coffin, but that was almost two years ago now.

"And, uh, what do you think?" Eddie asks, glancing at the earbuds still playing in Steve's ear.

Steve studies him for a moment before smiling. "They're really good," he says, turning around to continue shelving books. "I like stuff from their second album best so far."

"Do you usually listen to metal and rock?" Eddie asks, glancing at the shelving cart before passing Steve another book.

Steve almost tells Eddie to let him do the shelving, but then he sees that Eddie passed him the correct book for this section, so he bites back the words. Instead, he nods and crouches to slide the book into a bottom shelf. "Yeah. More older stuff, I guess. Guns N' Roses, Metallica, Nine Inch Nails, Queen. That kind of stuff," he says.

"Holy fuck, you're perfect," Eddie says, his voice soft and full of awe and Steve is about to laugh when Eddie adds, "Marry me."

Steve blinks, nearly losing his balance and falling on his ass. He saves himself at the last minute, quickly standing up again so he can look at Eddie. "Seriously?" he asks, wondering if maybe he had just misheard.

He did not. And this is proven by Eddie moving around the shelving cart, grabbing Steve's hand, and getting down on one knee. "Incredibly. Your music taste is fucking immaculate, sweetheart. Also, you're funny, hot, and sweet, and I've recently developed a librarian kink, I think. So. Marry me," Eddie says before using his teeth to pull off one of the chunky rings on his left hand so his right hand doesn't have to let go of Steve.

He then holds the ring up, and Steve really shouldn't find that as hot as he does. Like. Really hot. And he almost considers saying yes. But then he fully processes Eddie's words and almost laughs. "You've developed a librarian kink? So, what, you'll drop me the moment another librarian starts ranting about the Dewey Decimal system?" he asks.

"Okay, fair," Eddie says, nodding once. "Let me rephrase that. I've developed a Librarian Steve Harrington kink. Only you, big boy. Nobody curses out the Dewey Decimal system like you, sweetheart."

That might be the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to Steve, actually. "It's a shitty cataloging system," he says without thinking.

Eddie nods in agreement, still on one knee, still holding up the ring (it's shaped like a coffin, now that Steve spares it more than a quick glance) and still looking up at Steve with an infatuated smile. "It is," he agrees, voice a little softer than before like he's ready to just kneel through Steve's passionate rant about it.

And Steve thinks that might be the final straw for him. "I'd prefer at least one date before marriage," he says, grinning down at Eddie and pulling him back to his feet.

Eddie follows his lead, standing a little too close considering Steve is, technically, still at work. He turns Steve's hand over so it's palm up and drops the ring into it. "Of course, Stevie. How about lunch tomorrow? My treat," he offers.

Of course, Steve says yes.

+ One

"I still think there are funnier ways to tell him," Robin says, crossing her arms and pouting as Steve leans against the counter, his back to the door.

Steve sticks his tongue out at her. "You're just mad you lost the bet," he says. Telling her she lost had made Steve's entire week, especially since it means Robin is finally (finally!) going to dress up with Steve the next time they go to a basketball game together. He's got a jersey and shorts ready for her; he's had them ready since the first game he invited her to. They have her name across the back, are the ugliest shade of mustard yellow he could find, and match his perfectly.

"That jersey is the work of the devil," she says, her nose scrunching in disgust at the thought of it.

Steve just grins. "You never know, maybe a nice girl will be enraptured by your awkward lesbian swag," he says.

Robin is about to answer when she looks over Steve's shoulder and grins, her eyes lighting up. Steve looks over his shoulder to see Eddie smiling at him. "Hey, Stevie," he says.

And here it is. The moment of truth. Steve grins right back at Eddie and turns around, letting him see the graphic on his shirt. It's one he bought at a Corroded Coffin concert a year ago. It has the band's first album cover emblazoned across it with Eddie front-and-center, playing his guitar with the other band members around him as bats swirl in a red haze above their heads.

Eddie stares at the shirt, his smile freezing on his face and his body tensing. Panic starts to fill his eyes, and he glances up, looking ready to explain himself only to stop when he sees Steve's soft, endeared smile. He pauses, studying Steve's expression for a moment before laughing a little awkwardly and tugging on a lock of his hair, using it to cover his mouth. "So, uh, you knew the whole time," he says.

"Yep," Steve replies, leaning forward on the counter so it's harder for Eddie to avoid looking at him. "I did."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Eddie asks.

"You didn't want me to," Steve says. Then he considers his words and corrects, "Or, you didn't want to be recognized. When you first came in, you were bracing yourself for it, and I figured you'd feel more comfortable if I pretended not to know you."

"What about all the other times?"

Steve shrugs, his smile becoming reassuring. "I figured you'd either tell me when you were ready, or I'd tell you when we went on a date because you'd probably get all in your head about having a secret like that while we were dating."

And Steve is right. Eddie would have freaked out over the secret, and he would have struggled with telling Steve at just the right moment, and time would have stretched on and on until it had been too long to tell him anything. It would have been agony for Eddie and left Steve concerned and just not a good time for anyone.

"So, uh, how long have you been a fan?" Eddie asks.

"Well, I wasn't lying about hearing your music from Lucas, but I did lie about the time. It was two years ago," Steve explains.

Eddie slowly nods and then starts to grin. "So, how's it feel dating a celebrity?" he asks playfully, leaning closer and wiggling his eyebrows at Steve.

"Like a Wattpad fantasy come true," Steve deadpans, nearly cracking when he hears Robin lose her shit behind him, her laughter turning into wheezes within seconds.

Eddie laughs, too. It's loud and bright and makes Steve feel warm and happy, like every problem could be solved simply by making Eddie laugh just like this.

Steve is eager to find out if that's true.

#steddie #steddie fic #librarian steve harrington #rock star eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #platonic stobin #robin buckley #5 + 1 fic #my writing #i'm a librarian btw so this was a bit inspired by my experiences #also fuck the dewey decimal system all my homies hate the dewey decimal system #it is a plague upon this earth

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 4 months

Note

Topper’s sister (one or two years younger you pick) who does Only Fans and Rafe finds out. He subscribes and watches her content (because she’s hot and off limits since she’s Topper’s little sister) in secret, then blackmails her saying he’s gonna tell Topper. One weekend, she comes to Rafe and Topper’s place to surprise Topper for his birthday, but he’s not there and rafe blackmails her into giving him a blowjob

This is the longest work I've written in a while, I hope you enjoy

p.s. There is a possibility to make a part 2 for this one. Let me know if you are interested

Warnings: 18+, smut, blackmail, oral (m receiving),

—

After showering, Rafe tossed his towel into the hamper and fell on his bed. Topper was out with Cynthia — or maybe it was Vanessa —, which left him alone for the night. Rafe wasn’t complaining though, being alone was nice sometimes. Especially when he wanted to jerk off.

He could have done it in the shower, but having visual material made the release better.

Phone in hand, Rafe scrolled for something to watch. Sadly, none of the girls he was following had put up new content, so he looked for new accounts. He found a cute one, brunette with blue eyes, but she had overly huge tits and Rafe wasn’t into that — no offense to the girl. He almost went looking elsewhere when his eyes caught a familiar face.

Rafe hit the profile and the biggest smirk turned on his lips.

No fucking way.

‘’Caught your dirty little secret,’’ he said to himself, his blue eyes staring at the free photoset you had to attract subscribers. Your sheer white bra left not much to the imagination and the curve of your ass had Rafe’s cock twitching. He’s been wanting to hit it since you wore that bikini at this beach parry last summer.

Without hesitation, he subscribed and opened the first video.

You were sitting cross-legged on your dorm bed with nothing but a baby pink bodysuit, which hugged your figure perfectly. Your hard nipples were poking through the thin fabric, as if they were trying to say ‘hello’ to your viewers. You winked at the camera as your right hand slowly went down your chest, making a show of pinching your covered nipple and catching your bottom lip with your teeth as you let out a little moan.

The sound made Rafe grip his cock and start to slowly jerk it. He was weak for nice tits…and yours were very nice.

You pulled your other breast free from the fabric, your delicious nipple popping free as you asked the camera if they'd like to suck on them. Without waiting for an answer — not that you would be getting any since it was pre-recorded —, you looked down at it and dribbled spit onto yourself.

If Topper knew he was jerking off to his little sister, he would rip his head off.

And your parents? If they knew about your secret online business, they would cancel all payments to your prestigious college and bring your ass back to Kildare. Dr. Cynthia Thornton’s daughter could not be part of the world of prostitution. It would look terrible for their name.

Normally, Rafe loved to ruin people’s lives just for fun, but he was enjoying the view too much. All the photo-sets of you in delicate lingerie, the occasional topless ones, the close-ups of your fingers — and sometimes toys — in your pussy and the sweet moans that came from your mouth every time you were pleasuring yourself were part of his night routine. As perverted as it sounded.

Weeks passed, and soon Topper’s birthday was coming up. The boys planned on going out to a club and celebrating there, but the plan changed when you showed up to your brother’s apartment for a birthday surprise.

‘’Where’s Top?’’ you asked, walking in like it was your own place.

With a frown on his face, Rafe watched and closed the door behind you. ‘’At the gym with Braxton,’’ he replied. ‘’What are you doing here?’’

‘’Am I not allowed to surprise my brother for his birthday?’’

‘’We already have plans, and you’re not part of it.’’

Although Rafe had reserved a private booth, there was no way Topper would allow you to come to the club.

Brushing off his objection, you grabbed your small suitcase and scanned the apartment. ‘’Where’s the guest bedroom?’’

‘’Here,’’ Rafe said, pointing at the couch.

‘’I’m not sleeping on the couch.’’

‘’We turned the third bedroom into a gaming room. It’s the couch or the floor. You pick.’’

You raised an eyebrow, considering your options. The floor got crossed immediately — women do not sleep on floors. The couch, although soft and comfortable looking, had probably been used to have sex. It was a college boys apartment.

‘’Then, I’ll be taking your bedroom.’’

‘’Absolutely not, Princess. This is my apartment, I'm not sleeping on the couch.’’

You crossed your arms, challenging his resistance. ‘’Come on, Rafe. I’m only staying for two days. I need to be back for Sunday, I have—’’

‘’Video content to film?’’

You gave Rafe a confused look to conceal your inner panic. ‘’A paper due Monday,’’ you said.

Rafe leaned against the couch, his eyes scanning you up and down. ‘’I know about your dirty little secret,’’ he said smugly, explicit images of yourself flashing in his head. ‘’I found your Only Fans account last month. By the way, you look better in light pink than sapphire blue, it washes you out.’’

At this very moment, you wished you could disappear with a snap of your fingers. With the details he was providing, it was impossible that Rafe was bluffing. You thought your account was well hidden, that your username was well thought and would never give you away. How did he find you?

Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment, looking at Rafe with knives for eyes.

‘’You didn’t think anyone would find out, did you?’’

‘’Did you tell Topper?’’

Fear started creeping in your stomach at the thought of Topper knowing about that part of your life.

Rafe shook his head. ‘’Your secret’s safe with me…on one condition.’’

You rolled your eyes. Nothing was ever free with Rafe. He always wanted something in exchange.

The corner of his mouth curled and you shook your head immediately, easily guessing what he had in mind. ‘’Absolutely not.’’

‘’Come on. I’m keeping my mouth shut, the least you can do is open yours.’’

Your jaw dropped at his crude words. ‘’That’s blackmail!’’

Rafe shrugged, not caring that he was playing dirty. ‘’You do what you want. I’m not gonna be the one in trouble after I make a little call to Topper to tell him his little sister opens her legs for money—’’

‘’Fine,’’ you said, gritting your teeth.

Somehow, this was more embarrassing than anything you had done on camera.

Swallowing your pride, you kneeled before him, trying to ignore the cocky winning smile on Rafe’s face as you came face to face with his clothed lower region. He was already thick behind his sweatpants — you could see the outline through the gray fabric.

Taking a deep breath, you pulled his sweatpants down, uncovering his cock and balls. You gulped at the sight. He was long and thicker than average, which explained where his confidence came from — aside from his daddy’s big money.

‘’Like what you see?’’ Rafe asked, proud of his appendage.

Without breaking your annoyance, you rolled your eyes. You couldn’t let him know that you were impressed by his size. He would never let you live this one down.

You wrapped a soft palm around his shaft, letting your thumb stroke over his tip and back down until he reached full hardness. Reluctantly, you dipped your head and took the head into your mouth, swirling your tongue and tasting the pre-cum that leaked from it before going to the base of his shaft. You didn’t take everything into your mouth — yet —, but tried to fit as much as you could.

A soft groan left Rafe's mouth, feeling the pleasure of yours. His hand came to the back of your head, gripping your hair into a ponytail and encouraging you to continue your movements up and down. You sped up your pace, saliva spilling from your mouth as precum leaked into your mouth and ran down your throat, secretly starting to enjoy yourself.

You clenched your thighs together, wetness slowly pooling in your panties.

Above you, Rafe moaned, his grip tightening on your hair as you slid down as deep as you could manage. ‘’That’s it, baby. Put that mouth to good use.’’

Had your mouth not been busy, you would have told him to get fucked. Instead, you let him fuck your mouth like you were a inflatable doll from a sex shop until your jaw was starting to ache and you had to pull away.

Unsatisfied with your ungranted break, Rafe tapped his cock against your cheek, smearing pre-cum and saliva on your face. ‘’Did I tell you to stop?’’

‘’No, but—’’

‘’Then get back to business.’’ He pressed his cock against your mouth, but you didn’t let him in. ‘’Or…maybe I should call Topper and send him a link to your side business?’’

You sat on your heels, letting out a defeated sigh. ‘’My jaw hurts, okay? I can’t anymore,’’ you explained, although doubting Rafe would be compassionate. He didn't care about you, he just wanted to empty his balls. ‘’But maybe we can’t look at other options?’’ You pulled down the front of your shirt, exposing your bra to him.

Rafe's eyes darted down your chest, catching his bottom lip between his teeth knowing what was beneath your bra. ‘’I'm listening.’’

But before the negotiations could begin, you heard the apartment door opening: Topper was back. Quickly, you fixed your shirt and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand while Rafe pulled his sweatpants back up.

—

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All and more taglist: @kenqki @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis @katherinejess @rafesgirlstuff @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks #obx #outer banks imagine #rafe outer banks

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leaentries · 3 months

Text

Riding High | nico hischier

summary: when his girl decides to take charge, whose he to object?

warnings: marking, slight handjob, hair pulling (m. receiving), unprotected sex, riding, creampie, slight cockwarming, sub!nico, more porn with little to no plot, swearing

wc: 1.6k+

the captain’s girl masterlist

Stumbling through the front door, your lips found any part of Nico they could latch onto. Hands snaking up the tight tank top that clung to his rigid body. The slight scar that remained on his cheek flashed in your vision as you kissed up his jaw.

Nico Hischier’s existence was truly unfair to other men.

“Fuck, schatzi.” He panted as his foot managed to kick the door closed.

Nico’s body pounded against his sweaty skin, still riding high from the team's win over Philly. His mind went hazy the second your hands began to roam once you reached the elevator. His heavy breaths were the only sound that escaped into the crisp air. He was putty at your feet, but he preferred it that way tonight.

Truth be told, Nico loved it when you decided to take control over him. It gave his mind a break from “Captain” mode. Normally, Nico would bend you over and have his way with you, especially after a win like this, but all he could think about was the way your nails felt against his toned abdomen.

And the shockwaves it sent to his cock.

His head tilted back as your mouth began to leave hot red marks down the column of his throat. Nico squeezed his eyes shut, pulse beating rapidly against your lips. His chest heaved with anticipation.

“Please, baby,” Nico whined.

A small smirk found home on your face, relishing in the whimpers that left your boyfriend at the slightest touch. He was so sensitive, yet it just fueled your libido that much more. Pulling your mouth away from his body, Nico’s eyes shot open, immediately seeking your own. His bambi eyes were blown out, pupils so dilated they were practically black.

He swallowed the complaint bubbling up, “Why’d you stop?”

It was almost endearing, the meekness in his voice. Nico was so driven by the pleasure you were bringing him that he couldn’t form a coherent thought about anything else.

You remained silent, simply pulling his wrist as an invitation to follow you to the living room. He let you guide him without hesitation, body desperately craving your touch. You quickly kicked off your shoes, discarding them somewhere between the kitchen and the living room.

Once you reached your desired destination, you moved Nico till you could walk him backward towards the couch. He felt his calves hit the soft cushions, falling down to them as you gently pushed his chest.

Straddling him, you brought your hands to his swollen biceps in an attempt to balance yourself. Nico’s warm eyes peered into yours, patiently waiting for your next move. He traced every inch of your face as you reached down to grip the bottom of your sweater. Nico felt his breath hitch the second your breasts popped into view.

The sound of his uneven pants was music to your ears, but the feeling of his thick cock pressed against your core was even better. Throwing aside your sweater, you began to slowly grind yourself down into him. Nico’s head fell back, exposing his marked-up neck. You brought your lips back to where they were earlier, this time lowering your trail.

The slight red tint of your lips marked their territory on his white tank, no doubt staining it. You dragged your hands over his chest, smirking at the stutter of his hips as you brushed over his nipples. You continued your journey downward, only stopping once you reached the hem of his shirt. You gripped the edge, urging Nico to help discard the material. He leaned up, swiftly removing the unwanted layer.

As he leaned back, you let a single finger dip through the faint lines of muscle on his stomach. Nico’s chest was covered in a sheer coat of sweat as your teasing got worse. He opened his mouth once more but was quickly silenced by your lips. You swallowed any sounds he attempted to make, licking into his welcoming mouth. Nico hummed in approval.

You slowly untied the sweats he had on, dipping your hand into the waistband. You pulled away to look at his flushed features.

“No boxers, Neeks?” You teased.

Nico blushed a deeper shade of red, crimson now spreading down his neck. The words he once had died in his throat.

He shook his head slightly.

You felt a wave of adoration wash over you at the sight of your big, hockey player boyfriend getting all shy. Nico wasn’t typically like this, it was a welcomed change to your sex life.

You tsked, “Such a naughty boy, Nico.”

Although he knew you were joking, his cock leaked at your sultry tone. You wasted no time in pulling down his pants just enough to pull out his dick. Wrapping your hand around his shaft, you slowly began to pump him.

“Oh fuck,” Nico’s eyes screwed shut, “Just like that, schatzi.”

You continued pumping him, letting your thumb rub over his swollen tip in the process. In spite of his protests, you remained at a torturingly slow pace. You took the time to admire the slight curve of him and the way Nico would buck his hips when you applied pressure to the vein on the right side of his cock.

“Such a pretty cock,” You cooed, “So pretty, all f’me.”

Nico whimpered.

You thought his moans were hot, but hearing him whimper from just a basic handjob was a whole other ballgame.

You continued to stoke him, beads of precum beginning to stick to the tips of your fingers. Nico’s body began to tense as you squeezed the base.

“S-shit,” He cried.

You knew he was close, but the throbbing that each of his whines sent to your clit was enough to have you pulling back and stepping off of him. Nico looked at you pathetically, desperation and need filling his dark eyes.

“I know, I know,” You soothed, “I just need you inside of me, pretty boy. That okay?”

Nico couldn’t agree fast enough. He attempted to help remove your leggings, only to be swatted away.

“Nuh-uh. No touching until I say so.”

Nico swore he almost came right then and there. Something about the authoritative edge in your voice had his mind reeling. The only thought he could process was you sinking down on him until his cock was so deep he wouldn’t be able to remember his name.

You rushed to discard your bottoms, your own desperation now taking over. You straddled him once more, biting your lip as his hard-on pressed into your sensitive clit. You ground yourself further down, spreading your arousal all over his length.

“I can’t,” Nico’s hoarse voice snapped you back to reality, “Please, schatzi. I need to be inside you.”

You leaned to press a sweet kiss on his lips.

“Okay, baby.”

Giving in to his pleas, you carefully line his tip with your soaking entrance before slowly sinking down. Your eyes nearly roll back at the delicious stretch of him. Nico struggled to regain his breath as your tightness made his cock weep.

You both sat for a moment, too worked up to move yet. Placing a kiss on his scar, you gently began to move your hips. Nico’s hands flew to your waist, gripping the meaty flesh. Too consumed in the way he felt dragging along your velvet walls, you couldn’t even bring yourself to reprimand him for breaking your “No Touching,” rule.

Your hands wrapped around his neck as you tangled your fingers in his soft hair. Nico’s moaned as you tugged slightly.

“You, fuck,” You gasped as you you continued to bounce, “You like that, Neeks?”

He nodded, giving you his infamous doe-eyes.

“Yeah? You like it when I pull your hair?”

You pulled again, this time slightly harder. Nico’s hips bucked up, a deep groan bubbling up from his chest. Satisfied with his reaction, you moved your hands to his shoulders. You braced yourself, quickly increasing your pace. You tried your best to ignore the burning sensation in your thighs as you rutted against Nico.

Nico noticed your pace faltering, his hands moving to your thighs to hold your weight. His hips began to thrust upwards at a brutal pace, a loud cry escaping your mouth. Your hands scratched at his muscles, clinging to the back of the couch as the searing pleasure began to build in your tummy.

Nico, lost in his own pleasure, began to mumble incoherent German in your ear. His husky voice sent pulses of electricity through your veins, finding enough strength to push back against his pelvis as he thrusted.

In his mix of languages, you were able to make out hsi faint chant of begs.

“Keep doing that, schatzi.”

“Oh, don’t stop.”

“Gonna cum, please.”

You swiveled your hips forward, Nico’s cock edging deeper into your cunt. You convulsed around him, coaxing him to his orgasm.

His head fell back, deep whines leaving with each thrust as you milked his cock. The feeling of his warm finish filling your spent pussy was enough to tip you over. You screwed your eyes shut as you felt the waves of orgasmic bliss blind every sense you had.

You could barely make out the feeling of Nico’s thumb rubbing encouraging circles around your clit.

Coming back to reality, you collapsed into Nico, his strong arms wrapping around your soft figure. You both relished in the post-sex glow, enjoying the feeling of each other's bodies pressed so close together. You let your eyes shut, Nico’s fingers running down your spine lulling you into relaxation.

“You ready for bed, baby?”

You smiled at the change in his demeanor. It was just like him to immediately take on his protective and caring nature once more. Not that you were gonna complain.

You shook your head, “Want to stay here for a minute. I like you inside of me.”

Nico let out a groan, “Can’t say things like that, schatzi. You’re gonna make me hard again.”

You simply laughed, placing a kiss on his collarbone.

#the captain’s girl au!#nico hischier #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier smut #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier blurb #leawrites💋

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facefullofsadness · 3 months

Text

stripper!ningning in a private room

dom!ning x sub!reader

smut, 1.8k wc

I had a dream the other night that ning literally just flipped up her crop top and flashed the entire audience, nips out and everything (she didn't even have a bra under). as if it was a part of the show too? had the cameraman zooming in and her fucking hard nipples were on the big screen with the instrumental to a solo song of hers playing in the back. the wildest part was when she started PLAYING WITH THEM? she literally teased around the bud and pinched them, flicking them between her fingertips and throwing her head back. woke up SWEATING! it led me to THINKINGGGG and came up with stripper!ning.

your friends drag you to a strip club one night to distress since it had been a long busy week full of work and you don't really leave the house, so they urge you to go out, just this once! obliging because you might as well, I mean why tf not, wouldn't hurt to try right?

little did you know, your plan to just stand in the corner by the bar and drink by yourself was far from what your friends had already pre-meditated for you. having settled yourself at the bar with a drink in hand already, you feel the hot touch of a person's hand slipping from your shoulder to your lower back, making you turn your attention towards the source.

your eyes widen at the stunning woman in front of you, a gorgeous dark-haired cat-eyed lady in a long black coat covering her body stood next to you, a sly smirk on her lips. you gulp down the alcohol in your throat when she opens her mouth to speak.

"my, you really are so much more pretty up close..." she says, almost as if her thoughts slipped from her tongue, leaning in to observe your face further, touch lingering on your body.

you dart your eyes anywhere else to escape her intense gaze and she clears her throat before speaking again, "sorry, my manners slipped me. I'm ningning, would you like to come with me?"

you stare at the hand ningning held out for you, the internal dilemma going crazy in your head. you see your friends out the corner of your eye, cheering you on silently and urging you to say yes. looking up at the woman next to you, her expression is expectant and she bats her eyelashes, eyes full of wonder and allure.

you don't say anything and just take her hand, the beautiful woman smiling and dragging you past the poles of dancing women, her luscious dark hair flowing behind her, into a private and dimly lit room. she sits you down on the velvet sofa and runs her fingers through her hair, sighing.

you gather the courage to ask, "did my friends set this up?"

her teeth show slightly in the smile she gives you, giggling softly, "yes sweetie they did. but I didn't go so easy, I had to see how pretty you were up close if I really wanted to go through with it."

she sways her way up to you from across the room, hands laying on your shoulders and rubbing her thumbs under your jacket against your skin, "luckily for you, and especially for me, you're fucking hot."

she leans into your ear, lips and breath hot on your skin, "I'm supposed to give you a show, but I think I want so much more than just that, don't you?"

her words make you shiver, a chill trailing down your spine. she pulls away to push your shoulders back against the sofa, your back hitting the soft backrest, as ningning straddles your lap. you can feel her skin on yours under her long coat against your thighs, the material of her clothes hiking up your skirt.

she pulls the knot on her waist that's holding her coat together, taking it off and revealing her black lingerie set, sheer and honestly not doing much to leave thoughts to the imagination. she leans in over you and hovers your lips with hers, feeling her lips curl upright into a smile.

"don't be shy, I don't bite... too hard."

she grabs one of your hands and puts it on her exposed stomach, guiding it to feel her body up and down, the lace and skin on your fingertips. she puts your hand on her chest, making you trail your fingers on her hard nipple through the lace. you obey, using your thumb to roll the bud against her boob, feeling it harden in your hold.

her breath increases in volume, and you feel her panting against your lips. you continue further, pinching her nipple in your fingers, eliciting a deep moan from her throat. you bring your other hand up and repeat the same motions to her other boob, making ningning throw her head back, her long sweaty exposed neck on display. the sight made your cheeks start to turn red and you started to feel your body heat up.

"learning quickly, aren't you there? god you're so pretty under me, can't wait to feel more of you."

and she sure did feel more of you.

you laid back against the sofa, ningning kneeling with her pussy in your mouth, one hand in your hair, twirling her fingers with your strands and pulling you in, tongue spelling your name across her sweet tasting cunt, her other hand pinching at her nipples, moans filling the room. she had secured your wrists to poles on either side of you, same as your ankles, your body completely sprawled out and barely clothed, ready to take anything she so wanted to do to you. and at this moment, she wanted to see how much of a good girl you'd really be for her.

chanting pet names and words of praise for how well you ate her out, her sweet and sultry raspy voice releasing pleasurable groans. her hips grinding rhythmically against your mouth, the hold on your head tightening and pulling you impossibly closer, making it difficult to breathe. you look up at her figure, the sight making your hole clench and clit throb with how fucking sexy the girl on top of you looked, mouth hanging open, moans slipping from her lips, eyes rolled back, head swinging side to side, a thin sheet of sweat forming all over her milky skin, her fingers pinching at the nipples poking through her lingerie. you could cum from just watching her get off on you.

"such a fucking good girl, baby. wanna make mommy cum? go on, drink it all and clean me up."

her pace became unfathomably swift, chasing her orgasm on your hard working tongue. she came, creaming all over your mouth, well mostly, some of it spreading to your face. ningning yelled out profanities as you pushed her over the edge, her eyes trained on you and how well you sucked her dry (she wanted to cum again just by how good you looked). her honey-like voice filled your ears when you heard her giggle, opening your eyes to look up at her, an amused and prideful look on her face as she pet your head and threaded her fingers through your hair. once you licked her clean, she hovered her body over yours and traced her thumb over your cum-stained lips, sucking on her finger when she collected all the spit and liquid.

"I'm going to fuck you so good, your body is going to be completely incapacitated and you'll never want anyone else to fuck you other than me. do you want that? does my good and precious baby girl want mommy to break her? fuck her brains out until she can't think anymore?"

you moan at her words and pull at your restraints at the mere thought of her making you cum.

"go on sweetie, beg me. beg mommy to fuck you dumb."

oh your friends were so gonna make fun of you for this later.

"please mommy, I've been such a good girl for you, please fuck me stupid, fuck me until I can't take it anymore. even if I can't take it anymore! fuck me until I cry, until I'm sobbing, until I'm screaming for you to stop!"

so of course, she does, how could she say no to such a pretty girl begging for her? eating you out until you're squirting on her tongue and making a mess of her beautiful face, staining her pretty lingerie. fingering your pussy until her thrusts burn, your walls sore, clenching over her skillful digits, clit overstimulated to hell. fucking you with a strap until you're screaming bloody murder, throat aching in pain from the yells and also her fingers deepthroating and gagging you, clit rubbing against ningning's, making both of you tear up with incomprehensible pleasure, your body jerking with every pinch of her fingers on your nipples or suck and lick of her tongue on them, squirting so hard every time on her cum-shooting strap, filling you up with her cream. oh how I want ning yizhuo to fuck me like this so bad.

she finally stops after what feels like hours of constant mind-numbing sex, your hole leaking cum. you hear her mumble something like "fuck it's already been 2 hours? I need to get you out of here." how considerate. her taking such good care of you, massaging your wrists and ankles from the red marks that had formed from the cuffs she restrained you with, kissing over all the scratches and redness she induced on your body, cleaning all the cum and tears across your face and skin, getting you water and making sure you were okay.

"need anything else angel? was I too intense for you?" she'd softly ask, voice so sweet and gentle, caressing your cheek and playing with your hair, massaging your head too while you drank water.

"mm-mm," you'd hum, shaking your head no ever so slightly, your entire body sore. hell, you literally could only hum a response because your throat was spent.

she leaned in close to your face, her lips right up against yours, just barely touching, "it's against policy to do anything I did today, so I'll break just one more rule."

ningning kisses you. not intensely, not rough, just her soft and plump cum and cherry flavored lips moving slowly but passionately against yours, an incredibly drastic contrast from just moments before. and yet, this was the most breathless you were the entire night. pulling away after a while and gasping for air like you forgot how to breathe entirely, staring down at her lips shining with saliva, a grin settling calmly on her face.

she lifts your gaze with her finger under your chin and pecks you again before she interlaces her free hand with one of yours, "don't be a stranger okay? what's your name?"

suddenly gaining confidence, you kiss her again, taking her bottom lip between your teeth and swiping your tongue against it, a whine leaving her throat. you pull away and smirk, replying with a hoarse but brave voice, "take me out on a date first ningning, then maybe I'll reward you."

her chuckle resonates and she stands, pulling you up with her, dragging you towards the locked door (holding you up because your legs are absolute jelly), "I'll take you up on that challenge, pretty girl."

what a fucking night.

a/n - I WANT TO FUCK NING YIZHUO SO BAD OH MY GOD YALL DONT UNDERSTAND HOW BADLY I NEED HER

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apas-95 · 7 months

Text

Honestly, if your analysis of events doesn't take into account that armed Palestinian resistance is much more of a threat to israel than westerners posting on twitter is, it's not just ill-considered, it's chauvinistic

The start of the ground invasion is a great example of this, because the narrative surrounding it is still, basically, 'israel had to delay the ground invasion because of how bad they were looking, and cut off gazan communications so we wouldn't be able to see what was happening'. While I'm sure these considerations were somewhere in the IOF planners' minds, especially in the destruction of communications infrastructure, it's absolutely doubtless that they were far, far below the direct tactical benefits of these acts. The IOF has in earlier stages of the conflict stated they were beginning a ground invasion without actually carrying through, in order to draw out fighters; and the current escalation in conflict was carried out with clear confidence on the Palestinian side that israel was unwilling to engage in a ground invasion. By both releasing conflicting reports on the state of a ground invasion and then immediately targeting communications infrastructure, the IOF created an uncertain situation for resistance military intelligence.

Again, is controlling their optics and public image important to israel? Certainly, they have government departments dedicated to it, and have targeted journalists specifically during their wider assault on Palestinian society. However, these are without a doubt secondary considerations for their military decisionmaking. If the pursuit of public image would negatively impact their basic military capability, it would fall by the wayside. The sheer fact that they continue carrying out their program of ethnic cleansing and invasion should speak to this - surely their image would improve if they stopped! The idea that the IOF would delay an attack on the people actively firing rockets at the territory they occupy, raiding their military bases, taking their officers prisoner, and eviscerating their armoured columns — out of fear of a supposedly greater threat, in the form of westerners posting online? It is not just ridiculous, it is an insult to the actual organised resistance to israeli occupation. 'They're afraid of how much we're doing against them', when stated by a group that can barely organise any material disruption of military logistics, is myopic.

Moral positions do not stop bombs falling from the sky, and the sum total of all online posts have not delayed the advance of even a single tank by one second. Failing to reckon with this fact does not just lead to an over-inflated sense of achievement, but also a denigration of actual, material action. Why does anyone bother risking their lives engaging the spearhead of imperialist military forces, when the "minimum effort, maximum impact" strategy of posting on twitter apparently does just as much, if not more? Organise, strike, actually leverage what material power you do have. Nothing else will stop or even slow the dying.

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yandere-daydreams · 2 months

Text

tw - implied kidnapping, possessive behavior, slight stalking, delusional thoughts.

[commissioned piece. donate to palestinians in gaza here.]

Like most tailors, Chiori often finds herself preoccupied with the concept of preservation.

It’s as inevitable as it is unreasonable, for those who work through mediums as impermanent as fabric and textile. To make a piece of clothing is to make something that, by its very definition, cannot last. No matter how fine the silk, no matter how strong the thread, no matter how sturdy her design – colors will fade and stitches will run and eventually, the only thing left of her masterpiece will be a pile of scraps left to rot underneath a bed or among the cobwebs in a forgotten attic corner. Fashion is an even more unforgiving mistress. What does it mean to try and capture the beauty of a single moment in a world that stood for a thousand years before she ever thought to pick up a needle and will stand for a thousand more, when she’s no longer able to? What does it mean that she keeps trying, regardless?

Inevitably, when Chriori thinks about herself and her craft, she thinks about preservation. And, when she thinks about preservation, she thinks about you.

You, in the most generous of sentiments, are the enemy of permanence. Her designs may eventually fall apart, but you seem to tear and shatter all that you touch, to rend the very fabric of reality without ever dropping that achingly oblivious smile. Your first visit to her shop ended with a shattered teacup, your second with a chip to the blade of her favorite pair of sheers, your tenth with a pot of her darkest, blackest dye splattered across an otherwise untouched skein of dove-white silk. Calling you clumsy would be an understatement – you’re a vehicle of pure destruction, an entity of the type of chaos that so often reduces her finest creations to rags. If it wasn’t for the way you apologize so wholeheartedly after each and every offense, the bright optimism written across your expression each time you step through the door of her boutique, she might mistake your drastic lack of coordination for a deliberate act of sabotage. At least, if that were the case, she may be able to find the strength to banish you entirely from her domain.

Her frequent gifts to you – unpaid orders, she assures, items that would just go to waste if left to gather dust on her shelves – are demolished with a similar haste. That, you can blame on the needs of your trade, claim that the clothes of the noble class don’t mix with the work of laborers, but as often as she tries, she fails to see what’s so dangerous about hauling spools of ribbon and crates of lace from one boutique to another. You do your best to mend torn sleeves, to find replacements for missing buttons, but she almost wishes you wouldn’t – that you’d let her claims to you die a swift death rather than defacing them so humiliatingly. In her weakest moments, she considers that being more blatant with her intentions, speaking to you in something other than cutting innuendo and being more transparent in her attempts to carve her name into you, but it wouldn’t make a difference. Your nature, so quick and brash and thoughtless, is contradictory to hers. No number of signatures stitched into the hems of undercollars and lipstick stains pressed into the lining between layers of material can change that.

Certainly, none of it can change the trait Chiori finds most troubling in you – your willing inability to preserve even the most precious of things, yourself. Fontaine is a much more gentle land than Inazuma, but no part of Teyvat is completely free from risk. You brag worryingly often about your run-ins with local monsters, go on at length about having to guard the embroideries she had commissioned from the finest thread-painters in Liyue from fabric-eating slimes and especially fashionable thieves, but all your levity can’t seem to draw your attention from the bruises blossoming upward from your shirt collar, the bandages so often wrapped around knuckles and plastered over your cheeks. Mortality is a concept you seemed to have considered briefly and ultimately discarded, leaving Chiori to try to make something redeemable out of the scraps. It’d be enough to drive anyone mad. It’d be enough to drive any good tailor to extremes.

You are not a delicate fabric. Satin can be properly hemmed and handled with gloves, embroidery glazed over with perfumes and resins, lace held to a candle and burnt into a more sustainable form, but you are not so easily changed. Gowns have no regard for safety or the lack thereof, but you – frustrating, impossible you – seem to actively detest the very idea of it.

You are the enemy of permeance. It’s a thought Chiori often considers, lingers on, obsess over, as she would the safe keeping of any of her proudest works.

But, she finds herself thinking, as she feels the reassuring chill of iron chains again her palm and weighs it against two matching twin cuffs, there’s a chance she may just be pairing you with the wrong materials.

#woman loving wednesday #yandere x reader #yandere x you #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #yandere genshin #genshin impact imagines #yandere genshin impact #yandere chiori #chiori x reader #yandere imagines #yandere

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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year

Note

Just hear me out,

Wild west outlaw König.

That's all ,please and thank you❤️

P.s I love love love your work and you inspire me so much more than words can express,so thank you so much

Wild West Outlaw König Headcanons

Warnings: Outlaw König, König Kills People, Obsessive König, König (DEEP) in Love, Looting, Kidnapping, Implied Smut, Non-Explicit Descriptions of Smut, Dominant König, Submissive König, Mention of Ghost, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Petnames, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You.

A/N: Thank you so much for your kind words, my lovely ! Your kind words have touched my heart, and I hope your creative endeavours flourish <3

Man owns a pair of handcuffs and KNOWS how to use them.

Let’s work on the assumption that he kidnapped you.

Perhaps you were already partially romantically involved but your family would never let you marry someone like König, so he stages a robbery and takes you as part of the ransom.

One he has no intention of accepting any payment for because he’s never letting you go.

König’s monstrous proportions make it easy for him to physically overpower aggressors – other bandits, outlaws, authority figures.

However, he does pose something of a hazard to himself because there’s (much) more of him to hit.

Luckily, he’s straight out of a situation the minute it gets sticky – as if he just disappears into thin air.

Just one of the reasons why he’s called the Phantom Outlaw.

Not to be confused with Ghost, who is also an outlaw but never leaves a trace (or a witness), making his reputation far more ghoulish than König’s.

Though, König does excel in the fear factor, his sheer size and notoriety – his trenchcoat and mask the very visage of Death – forcing everyone who sees him to relinquish their goods in exchange for their lives.

Speaking of, König’s ability to swing thousands in cash makes for a happy home life, given how he spends much of his fortune on you.

Clothes, jewels, literature, instruments, automobiles: you name it, you’ve got at least a treasure trove of each.

Even if you try to resist these gifts, König refuses to let up.

“Can’t have my precious little Engel going without, can I ?”

So, in return, you typically handle all the chores, though König insists you don’t have to.

“It’s not like we can hire a maid to do it for us, can we ?” you tell him. “Especially not when there’s a handsome bounty on that even more handsome head of yours.”

Said bounty is what makes it difficult for the two of you to stay in one place for too long.

And whenever you move, you always try to make the house a safe space for König.

Blankets in his favourite chair, his favourite meal on the table for him whenever you know he’s going to have a rough day, a bit of fun before bed, etc.

You can tell whenever he feels really comfortable, because he takes up three quarters of the bed, just sprawled out like a rapidly growing infection.

And you always fit neatly against his side. Or on his chest.

König calls you his “Little bunny” (or “Bun-Bun”) because of how small you look when you’re nuzzled into his chest.

He never takes you, or anything you do, for granted.

You don’t know this (so keep this a secret between you and I) but König watches you when you sleep. More than you’d think.

Truth be told, the outlaw life terrifies him.

Sure, he has the swagger and the notoriety to make off with thousands in gold, jewels, and lavish material items, but, really, his greatest, most prized treasure is you.

There is only one of you. You cannot be bought, or replicated, or found in the wild like an ore of purest diamond.

Simply put, König’s success is entirely down to the fact that he can’t be caught lacking.

If he ever was to, he knows he’d lose you. Whether you’re taken by a stray bullet in a shoot-out or your town’s rangers come to tear you from his cold, lifeless grip, König takes every precaution to circumvent these tragedies by remaining the fastest hand in the west. And the most ruthless.

Even for an outlaw, his kill count is exceedingly high.

And it’s no coincidence that the numbers began to climb after he met you. Fell in love with you.

People who he’s seen giving you lecherous stares, or those he can sense have poor intentions, he’s taken them out the back and absolved the world of their presence.

And, at the end of every excursion, every execution, every haul, the weight of the world falls from König’s shoulders as he comes back to you.

He takes his mask down around you, hangs his hat upon the coat rack. You’re the only person who he shows his face to.

But, whenever you can tell a fragment of the day resides pinned in his mind, shrapnel of his self-inflicted lifestyle, you make sure to service him before bed.

How he likes to be serviced can change on a day-to-day basis. He’s not fussy.

The only thing that changes is whether he wants to be handled by you or if he wants to slam you into the pillows.

Possessive sex <333.

“Tell me you love me,” he rasps into your ear, pinning you to the mattress with his body, making escape an impossibility to you. “Tell me I’m the only one that will ever have you like this,”

As stated previously; he has a pair of handcuffs and knows how to use them.

Or, if they’re too far out of reach and he needs you bound now, he’ll use rope. Or even just his hands.

Eye contact. The whole time.

It’s as if a different person inhabits him when he gets like this; something dark and jagged, no mere demon, possesses his form. And, by extension, yours.

König’s not stopping until you’re full, he’s empty, and he’s confident you’re not leaving the house for the next few days.

But, when König is feeling fragile, he lets you take the lead.

Just lies back while you’re on top of him, calling him your “Good boy”, “my Prince”, “my protector,” – anything that reaffirms that he holds a great deal of importance in your life.

More often than not, he ends up with tears in his eyes.

Nobody has ever been so gentle and loving towards him as you have. And coupled with how you’re taking him slowly, taking the time to make sure you’re hitting all bases and he’s thoroughly loved, sends him over the edge.

Kiss his tears away and his soul leaves his body.

It’s times like these that, more than anything, König wants a simple life. A paroxysmal desire to lead an ordinary existence where the two of you can live together happily, without the threat of being chased out of town every few months.

And, maybe, one day, even have a family together.

Until then, König will continue to dream, to give you a lifestyle of sapphires and gold and every delicacy the human mind can conjure.

And whenever he looks at you before he leaves, he sees his good luck charm, the light at the end of his tunnel. And, most importantly, the embodiment of love itself.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

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lovechai · 1 year

Text

nsfw.

thinking about how alhaitham always seems too shy, too afraid when it comes to initiating physical intimacy with you. you were his first, and as he had no prior experience aside from those nights with you, he feels uncertain as to how he'll approach you. it's a wonder how you make it look so easy. you are usually so forthcoming with your wants and needs, and him, well, he really is a feeble scholar.

but god, when he finally does it, when he finally lets go of that rational thought holding him back, you could only think about how possible it is to want someone more than ever to the point that it drives you insane. if only you knew how you had already done that to him.

you look all too alluring sitting beside him in your comfy sweater and short skirt. that short skirt. how on teyvat could he focus on his book when the mere sight of you invites all of those obscene images? you're sitting there enjoying the new light novel you've gotten from inazuma while alhaitham is still on the first page, words and letters remaining foreign as he's already hard thinking of fucking you right there and then.

so, to your surprise, alhaitham shuts the book close and throws it on the coffee table. there's a look of concern on your face, but that is soon replaced with fluster when he suddenly slips a strong arm around your shoulders to bring himself closer. you feel his lips against your temple, his warm shaky breath sending shivers down your spine and to your core.

you should be saying anything, but your words die on your tongue when you feel his fingers lightly trail across from your stomach down to your skirt. his fingers easily find your clothed slit, and you could only gasp at him pressing at your dampness through the sheer material of your panties. it's embarrassing how you're already leaking from a few light touches, but fuck, you could never resist him, especially now that he's coming onto you like this.

light novel long forgotten, you grip at his thigh and spread out your legs a little further. and does he take that chance to move your panties to the side. a few strokes immediately leave you whining and feeling lightheaded.

"habibti," alhaitham whispers into your hair, and with that, he relishes in the way his middle finger slips into your wet cunt without any resistance. he gives it a few more thrusts before he slowly adds another finger that has you heaving.

his fingers are so long and thick they stretch you out, and he's pumping them inside you so good that you can't help but want for more.

"haitham, need you," you mewl, throwing your head back so you could get a glimpse of him.

and when he catches you looking at him through half-lidded eyes blown out from pleasure and lust, alhaitham doesn't think twice. he has to have you right now.

#love snippets #love talk #i want him right now !!! :(#and yes i sacrificed my sleep to write this #AAAAAAAaaaAa hmnnhjngh #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #alhaitham #genshin smut #alhaitham x reader smut #genshin impact #small edit at the end bc i just realized tumblr bugged out and deleted the og ending :( icb it was incomplete all this time

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psychotrenny · 8 months

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I really do think this is the end for Israel. The beginning of the end at least. They're essentially a relic of an earlier time, a time when, through a complex confluence of factors, the military power of Europe was so far beyond the rest of the world that it could openly keep the world in shackles. The Imperial powers of Europe could do as they wished and respond to any resistance with overwhelming violence that, no matter how costly in money or lives or how many years it took, would eventually force open resistance to come to a (temporary) end. You saw exceptions of course, such as Ethiopia's successful repulsion of Italian invaders in the 1890s (although even that victory is somewhat undercut but Italy's more successful invasion about 40 years later), but in the majority of cases even the most brave and intelligent of resistance fighters would see themselves worn down and defeated. Just off the top of my head you have figures like Samori Toure, Omar al-Mukhtar, Samuel Maharero; all inflicted numerous defeats on their European Imperialist enemies but in the end couldn't overcome the sheer force that was arrayed against them.

Of course such supremacy was never absolute even at it's apex, and this height was so very short lived. Resistance never fully stopped; outbursts of violence were frequent and various forms of passive resistance like migration, tax evasion and industrial slowdown were ubiquitous. Resistance movements learned from past failures, acquired the weapons of modern war and soon proved a credible threat to the Imperialist forces that by the middle of the 20th century had exhausted themselves through in-fighting. Whether evicted through direct violence or choosing to leave under the inevitable threat of it, the European powers largely ended their direct domination over the colonised world. That's not to say Imperialism was over, far from it, but it mostly took on subtler forms; more soft power with only the occasional resort to hard. Imperial domination is now more than ever exerted through various local proxies and the broader forces that keep them in check as direct subjugation just isn't especially viable.

In the parts of the world without substantial settler populations this withdrawal was accomplished smoothly enough; most of the Europeans present either left without a fuss or found some sort of niche under the new order of things. But the liberation of colonies with large settler populations was a longer and bloodier process; just compare the French withdrawal from Indochina to that from Algeria or the fate of Northern Rhodesia (now Zambia) to Southern Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe). A large number of Europeans were heavily entrenched in these colonies and had both their material wealth and sense of pride tied to the maintenance of white supremacy. Many politicians back in Europe were less willing to abandon such settler colonies, while with or without support from back home the colonists engaged in their own bloody wars of oppression against indigenous people.

But in the end they all fell. Algeria, Rhodesia, Angola, South Africa, the list goes on. Even as these places continue to suffer under the yoke of less direct Imperialism they can take pride knowing that the scourge of direct setter subjugation was defeated. Exploiting people is one thing; there are many ways you can accomplish this without the exploited truly catching on. But the sort of violence it takes to brazenly steal control of a people's land, settle yourself on it while keeping the original inhabitants as second class citizens is going to engender the fiercest resistance no matter what. The only remotely stable settler colonies are those where the indigenous peoples were already decimated by disease before being subjected to centuries of genocidal policies, reducing their current population to a small minority of the nation. And even then the survives continue to resist fiercely. In places where the settlers remained the minority there was simply no chance of such regimes surviving for long.

Israel as a state is among the last of its kind, and I see no reason why it shouldn't meet the fate of all other such colonies. The way I see it the end of Israel is inevitable. The only question is just how much bloodshed and suffering it'll take. The struggle has been ongoing for so very long. I truly hope that we're seeing the final stages of it, but I suppose only time can tell. All I know for sure is that from from the river to the sea, Palestine will be free

#stella speaks

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gothbitchshit · 2 years

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Thick with Desire

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem plus sized! reader

Genre: hurt/comfort, smut, fluff

Rating: Explicit/18+ only MINORS DNI

Length: 7k

Summary: When your boyfriend Eddie’s shirt doesn’t fit, you start to feel like you don’t deserve him. But Eddie is having none of it, not when he finally gets to see how beautiful you are.

Warnings: reader is 18+ but is implied to be a senior in hs with Eddie, reader is insecure about her figure/weight, reader degrading herself for her figure/weight, briefly mentioned unsafe weight loss methods (dieting/disordered eating), Eddie being a whole simp for his thick gf, praise kink, so much dirty talk like 😮‍💨, sacrilege lol, overuse of pet names probably sorry, body worship, daddy kink 😬, face sitting/oral sex (f receiving), fingering, Eddie has a big dick, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, dumbification if you squint, dacryphilia, marking kink — if I missed anything please let me know 🖤

Requested: Yes by @joekeeray — “Don’t be shy now, come sit on my face”

A/n: I’ve been working on this for way too long, bc as a thick bitch, I felt ✨inspired✨ but this could be potentially triggering for anyone who struggles with body image issues 🖤 also this has been beta read 🫡 also my requests are open so pleaaaaaaaase send me requests ❤️

⋆ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋆

You stared at your reflection in Eddie’s mirror as fat, salty tears rolled down your face without a stop in sight. Eddie’s frantic voice muffled by the locked door as he begged you to let him in. You knew this moment was coming — it had been looming in the distance most of the day.

It had started at lunch, Jeff’s new girlfriend, Missy, wearing his old Hellfire shirt — the one he’d accidentally torn the neck of in frustration a few months ago sitting at the same table they were at now, trying to psych himself up to ask Missy on a date. You hadn’t thought much about it, in fact you thought it was cute she was putting in effort (something you figured she could stand to do more of) but that in itself wasn’t the problem.

The problem was the ideas it gave your wonderful boyfriend.

Eddie had leaned over and whispered in your ear, “Why don’t you ever wear my shirts, sweetheart?” and instead of making you buzz with excitement — as his honeyed voice usually did — it filled you with dread.

You didn’t look like Missy, no matter how hard you wished, cried, dieted, starved, or hated yourself for it. You weren’t thin or delicate like her. And no matter how many times Eddie called you his tiny baby or his little princess, you couldn’t help but feel the stab of his words deep in your chest. You weren’t tiny like he wanted you to be — like you wanted to be.

The sheer thought of attempting to squeeze yourself into your boyfriends shirt made you want to cry. The material, while baggy on his lean frame, would stretch threadbare, and there wasn’t a chance in hell it would be long enough to cover your tummy. The idea of Eddie seeing you had caused you to shy away from his affections on more than one occasion. You’d never let him get your clothes all the way off, and had carefully avoided the topic of sex by learning how to give Eddie the best head of his life, and letting him finger you to his heart’s desire. It wasn’t like Eddie was pushing you, or cared in the slightest that you hadn’t gone all the way yet. And you’d almost given in on multiple occasions, when his hands would brush over your body in the most sinful ways and his voice rasped in your ear, verging on desperation as he explained all the filthy things he wanted to do to you.

You weren’t a virgin, although being with Eddie had made you wish you’d waited for someone like him before giving it up to Andrew Johnson at the Halloween party sophomore year. Especially not when you came to school the next day and the basketball team — bar Steve Harrington — had been whispering about what you looked like under your clothes. The whispers stopped quickly after Will Byers had disappeared along with Barb Holland, and the Nancy Wheeler and Steve Harrington drama had thrown you back into social obscurity: back where you felt safe.

It had taken you nearly 2 years to trust another boy. You’d almost given up on men entirely — like your best friend Robin had suggested you do — but Eddie had wormed his way into your heart so easily. You trusted him with everything you had. But you were so scared that if Eddie saw you, all of you, he would decide you weren’t good enough anymore, that you weren’t enough.

It wasn’t long after Eddie had whispered in your ear that you were pushing your half eaten lunch away from you, standing up from your seat. “I need to talk to Mrs. Highland about making up a test,” you mumbled into Eddie’s ear, pressing a gentle kiss to cheek. He opened his mouth to speak, to question you about why you were leaving so suddenly, but you were already nearly out the door.

You carefully avoided him the rest of the day — taking long detours around areas you knew he frequented. You even went so far as to pretend you didn’t see him while talking to Robin between classes, unable to miss the hurt on his face. It broke your heart to know that you made him feel that way. But you didn’t know how to talk to him about this.

However, much to your chagrin, that kind, wonderful boyfriend of yours waiting for you at your locker at the end of the day, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Sweetheart, what’s going on? Did I do something wrong?”

The confusion swirling in his big brown eyes had tears welling in yours as you shook your head, “No, ’m sorry,” you mumbled, tucking yourself under his chin as his arms wrapped around you.

“What happened, my love?” He cooed, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“Nothin’, just got in my head,” you sighed, willing away the tears that gathered in your bottom lashes. He looked suspicious, but let it go to tuck you back into his embrace, steering you out of the school — books and homework forgotten in your locker.

The ride to his trailer was quiet, comfortably so, with Eddie’s hand on your thigh, gently kneading the muscle through your jeans. It was something he had always done, his hands never straying from your body for too long. But today the sight made you feel sick to your stomach.

In your head, you could see that same beautiful, veined hand with thick, golden fingers, adorned with clunky metal rings on another girls thigh — a much smaller and daintier leg belonging to a girl more beautiful and more deserving the place in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van and in in his heart. If he noticed your silent suffering, he didn’t show it while he drove; Iron Maiden played softly while Eddie hummed along per usual.

It wasn’t until you’d gotten into Eddie’s trailer that he said anything — something entirely out of character for him — but you were too in your head to notice. “Alright, baby, time to tell good ol’ Eddie what’s bothering you. Because I can see those tears from here, and I’ve seen them in your eyes since lunch. Fess up babe,” he rambled, his tone light, but you knew him too well.

You could see the way his hands shook as he rubbed them on the outside of his pants, pulling off his Dio vest and leather jacket as he spoke, his voice wavering on hysterical; he was anxious. The tears you had swallowed came back with a vengeance, immediately slipping down your cheeks as he gasped.

“No, no, no, my love! I don’t want you to cry! Just please tell me what I’ve done and I’ll—“

“You d-didn’t do a-anything, Eds,” you stuttered through the tears, “I’m j-just sensitive is all, a-almost my period,” you lied, and Eddie’s frown deepened, taking two steps toward you to catch your face in his hands.

“Princess, light of my life, I know you’re lying to me,” he whispered, brushing a thumb over your cheek to wipe away a tear. You shook your head, trying to deny his accusations, but you couldn’t force another lie out of your mouth even when you tried. “Oh. I think I know,” he trailed off.

“Eds really, I’m okay, I just am having a rough day and I don’t—“

“No, baby, I should have put it together earlier. When Missy was wearing Jeff’s shirt at lunch, I saw the look on your face. I’m sorry I’ve never given you one of my shirts to wear, I just never thought about it. But I swear, princess, I want to see it.”

Ice ran through your veins at his words. You tried to protest — you really did — but somehow you ended up in the tight bathroom of Eddie’s trailer, struggling to pull his shirt over yourself as tears streamed down your face silently. It was tight and uncomfortable as you struggled, the enclosed space making your skin sticky as you fought the fabric.

Your reflection in the mirror made you feel sick — his shirt looked like a crop top on you. The soft skin of your tummy hanging out the bottom, and the white material was stretched thin across your chest, making your breasts look somehow larger than they were.

“Sweetheart, let me in, I wanna see you,” Eddie’s voice called out sweetly.

You couldn’t contain the sob that forced itself out of your chest. The thought of Eddie seeing you like this made you wish his bathroom had a window you could fit out of, so you could simply disappear instead of having to face him like this.

“No, Eddie, you can’t come in,” you choked out, and he went silent for a second before the doorknob started twisting.

“Why are you crying, sweetheart? What’s wrong? Are you okay? Please let me in,” he begged.

You tried to keep the words in, but the earnest tone of his voice tore them out of your mouth before you could stop them, “Missy was wearing Jeff’s shirt and she looked so cute and so small and I know I’ll never look like her. I shouldn’t even be with you Eddie, you’re so beautiful, you deserve someone as beautiful as you are — like Chrissy or Jennifer — and I don’t know why you even want to be with someone like me.”

“Sweetheart just open the door,” he pleaded.

“No, just give me a minute and let me change and just drop it okay? You don’t wanna see me like this, just please go away,” you whimpered softly.

His frantic pulling on the doorknob stopped for a second, followed by a tiny, almost imperceptible click, and then the door was swinging open to reveal your boyfriend, lock pick in hand.

Time seemed to slow as he stared at you, his eyes going wide and his jaw falling open in shock as he looked at you. Every insult you’d ever heard came flooding back through your mind as you tried to prepare yourself for Eddie’s inevitable disgust.

“Eddie please just go,” you begged, crossing your arms over your stomach to hide from him. You tried not to choke on a sob as he stared at you, frozen in the doorway, expression unreadable in his eyes. “I-I’m sorry, I’ll take it off, I’m sorry I stretched it out and I’ll give you the money to make a new one; just please don’t-don’t leave me because I look—“

Your words seemed to snap him out of his daze, his eyes zeroing in on your face as his eyebrows furrowed. “Baby, I don’t know why you’re apologizing,” he said quietly, straightening himself out and taking careful steps toward you.

You sagged in defeat as he moved toward you, “Because I’m fat, Eddie and I ruined your shirt and I’m not good enough for you and I’m too selfish to let you go when I know you deserve better than me. But I’ll try! I’ll try for you, I swear I will, I love you so much, I’ll lose some weight, just please—“

“Don’t.” Eddie said firmly, crowding you into the corner of the bathroom, his hands on your cheeks as he stood over you. “Do not say another mean word about yourself, or change a single hair on your pretty little head. I love you, exactly as you are.”

“You don’t mean that,” you hiccuped softly, curling in on yourself.

“Hey, look at me baby,” he ordered. You turned your eyes up at him slowly, “You are perfect. God I mean, look at you.”

Tears started falling again as you felt the weight of his words settle on you. “Just look at yourself,” your parents would say, grinding your self confidence into powder under their heels.

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered sadly.

Eddie sighed, grabbing your hand in one of his, placing it on his bulge without a word. The shock of his action stunning you into silence, effectively stopping your tears. A sweet smile spread across his face as you looked up at him in confusion before he was bending down to press a kiss to your forehead, “The only thing you have to be sorry about is saying all those nasty things about my girl. Shit baby, if I would have known how goddamn sexy under those baggy shirts, I would have burned all your other clothes before this.”

“Stop, it’s not funny,” you whined, turning away from him, but his hand caught your chin, fingers digging into your cheeks as he forced you to look into his eyes.

“Princess, I’m not joking,” he said seriously, “I thought I was fucking dreaming when I opened the door. Seeing you standing here in nothing but your jeans and my shirt? I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.”

“But Eddie it’s so small on me, I look so—“

“God that’s the best fuckin’ part babe,” he groaned, “I didn’t know I needed to see you in a tight little crop top, but you are so… Fuck, you put those cheerleaders to shame, angel.”

You could feel your face heating up under his heady gaze — the look in his eyes was dark and nearly feral. He looked hungry; hungry for you.

“My pretty little baby,” he cooed, closing the gap between the two of you, letting his chest brush against yours, “Doesn’t even know how perfect she is, hm? Guess I need to treat my girl better; don’t I?”

“N-no, you’re perfect, Eds,” you sighed as he dropped his head into the crook of your neck, planting sloppy kisses along the skin.

“No, princess, you’re perfect. I can’t believe I’ve never gotten you in my clothes before, never gotten you naked before, I’m such an idiot,” he huffed, hands beginning to wander over the exposed skin of your tummy. “God, I love your fuckin’ skin. As soon as I touch it it’s like electricity is running through me. Always wanted to know what you felt like, bare under my hands,” he slurred, his hands moving to cup your breasts. “And your tits? Fuck, sweetheart — I love your tits, y’know that? They’re fuckin’ heavenly.”

“Eddie,” you whined, letting your head drop back onto the small, square bathroom window. Eddie’s hands were lighting a fire in your veins.

“Am I allowed to pick you up, my pretty girl?” Eddie asked softly, “Because I wanna take you to bed so bad, sweetheart. Fuck you so good, make you cum till you’re crying and forget all those mean things you think about yourself. Wanna fill that pretty pussy and keep you all fucked out and cockdrunk in my bed. Can I do that? Will you let me take you to bed, and fuck you like I’ve been dying to for ages now?”

“Eddie, I don’t know if you can—” you whispered, but you were cut off by Eddie’s hands digging into the plush skin of your thighs before lifting you off the ground easily.

You yelped, wrapping your arms around his neck and threading your fingers into his hair. “My tiny little thing thinks I’m some sort of weakling? Can’t hold up my precious girl? I really haven’t been treatin’ you like you deserve, sweetheart,” he mumbled into your neck, as your thighs wrapped around his waist.

He managed to squeeze you both out of the small bathroom before crossing the distance to his bed and dropping you unceremoniously. You hit the mattress with a gasp, feeling dazed as the room spun slightly.

When you were able to refocus your gaze, all you could see was him, hovering at the end of the bed — your mouth beginning to water as you stared at his heaving chest. He’d pulled his shirt off in the few moments you’d been dazed — the patch of dark hair that trailed from his bellybutton to the hem of his pants pulled your focus immediately.

God you’d never wanted him so bad in your life. You wanted to devour him, feel his cock unhinging your jaw and lodging itself into your throat — but you also wanted him inside you, desperately. You’d cum with his name on your lips as you fucked yourself into oblivion night after night in the safety of your sheets, thinking about his long, thick cock splitting you open.

“Eddie, please,” you groaned, your eyes rolling back in your head as you squirmed on his bed. The ache in your cunt was making your brain hazy with need.

“Just gimme a minute, sweetheart, I gotta burn this image into my head. Gonna think about you like this for the rest of my fuckin’ life, like fuck, babe, you’re the goddamn dream,” he groaned, grabbing your ankle, lifting it up to his cheek, nuzzling into the sliver of skin between the hem of your jeans and the top of your shoe before pressing a soft kiss there. “I’m gonna treat you right, sweetheart, but I gotta know if you’re okay with this first. Because I don’t ever, ever, wanna make you feel uncomfortable. If you say stop, I’ll stop, no questions asked, but baby please, I gotta see you, all of you.” You responded with a single nod, the words dying in your throat as he stared at you from behind his fluttering eyelashes. His pupils were blown wide with lust, and you could have sworn you had never felt more desired in your life. “None of that, I need words, princess. Tell me that this is okay, and I’ll spend the rest of the night worshiping you like you deserve.”

You thought for a moment about every interaction you’d ever had with Eddie, trying to come up with a single reason you shouldn’t trust him with all of you. When you came up woefully short, all you could do was whisper a small, “I trust you.”

A near feral groan coming out of his chest as his head snapped back, his shoulders sagging in relief. “Fuck,” he moaned sinfully, “You’re gonna make me blow my load in my pants if you keep talking like that,” he smirked, making you giggle. “Now, let’s get my princess out of these clothes.”

You bit back a sigh as he pulled the shoe off your foot slowly, letting it drop to the floor next to him before peeling off the sock. The feeling made you shiver as his fingers ran over the sensitive skin of your foot, tracing the tendons and veins lightly — almost as if to commit it to memory — before putting your ankle onto his shoulder and grabbing your other leg, repeating the action of pulling off your shoe and sock. As soon as he placed the other foot on his shoulder, he was dropping to his knees at the foot of the bed, hands running up the covered expanse of your legs gently.

“I’m gonna take your pants off now baby, is that okay?” He asked, looking up at you from between your legs.

The sight made you sigh, only being able to let out a breathy “Yeah,” in response to his question. He grinned, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your jeans, taking his time to unbutton and unzip your pants torturously slow before finally beginning to strip you of them — leaving you covered only by the thin strip of maroon lace, barely hiding your pussy from his heavy gaze.

You half expected him to dive into your cunt face first based on the look in his eyes, but Eddie’s hands splayed out across your exposed skin, silent as he kneaded at your naked flesh, watching how the dimpled skin reacted under his purposeful movements. He crawled up your body slowly, dragging his mouth across your soft skin before resting his chin on your stomach, his hands buried underneath you to grab at your ass.

“I’m mad at you,” he mumbled, dropping his forehead, mouthing at the plump skin of your belly and tracing his tongue along your stretch marks, “Been hiding this from me for so long, s’mean, baby. Keeping these thighs, and this tummy, and your pretty pussy away from me? Not anymore, nuh uh, not gonna let you hide anymore. Not now that I know I’ve got the prettiest baby in the universe.”

You felt your face heat up at his words, the argument on the tip of your tongue, but the words were stolen from your mouth when Eddie’s mouth attached itself to your cunt as he sucked on the thin material of your panties lewdly. The ghost of pressure on your clit made you jolt, a shiver running down your spine.

“Oh, my baby is so worked up,” he cooed softy, placing a chaste kiss on your pubic bone before crawling up the bed to lay on the pillows. You stared at him in confusion as he got himself comfortable, his eyes meeting yours before he smirked. “Don’t be shy now, come sit on my face.”

You sputtered for a few seconds, unable to process the words that had just come out of his mouth. “Eddie, you-you can’t I mean-I’m too—“

He simply sighed and grabbed your wrist, pulling you on top of him with nearly no effort, his eyes narrowed as your knees slotted over his thin waist. “You say another word about this body — this fucikn’ amazing, sexy, unbelievable body of yours that I love and worship — I will have no choice but to punish you, got it?” You nodded solemnly at the seriousness of his tone, making the pretty smile you were used to grow on his face. “Now be a good girl and sit on my face.”

Good girl. The words burned through you like lightning, and you knew you’d do almost anything to hear them again. Especially falling out of his mouth sounding like honey and the promise of forever — of more. So you swallowed the protest that threatened to escape you and shuffled up his body until your knees were planted on both sides of his head.

“That’s right sweetheart, now just sit,” he commanded, pulling your panties to the side with his thumb and slamming your hips down onto his face with his arm wrapped around your back.

The sensation was almost too much to handle, his warm, wet tongue licking a fat stripe up your cunt, circling your clit with his tongue before dragging the appendage back through your folds slowly to tease at your opening. You couldn’t stop your hips from rocking against his ministrations, both your hands burying themselves in his hair, earning a groan. “Fuck, Eddie,” you moaned.

“Fuck baby, you taste so good,” he groaned into you, the vibrations zinging through you, setting your nerves alight.

“Eddie-fuck!” you choked out a yelp, your thighs tightening around his head as your hips moved of their own volition. You could barely focus on a single sensation at once, Eddie’s hands were everywhere — on your ass, running up your exposed thighs, pawing at your tits that were still covered by the too small Hellfire shirt.

You now understood why girls would rave about getting eaten out by their boyfriends — his mouth on your cunt felt like heaven. You almost couldn’t remember why you’d never done it before, because the sounds he was making as he ate you, the way he touched you, and the way he made you feel was intoxicating. You felt sexy and powerful in a way you’d never felt before, especially with how he spoke to you.

“Come on pretty baby, cum on my face, lemme hear those sweet noises you make just for me,” Eddie hissed before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking harshly, ripping the orgasm from you forcefully as you wailed and shook in his hold.

The sensation of your orgasm tearing through you had you losing all sense of reality. You felt like you were flying, or dying, or both at the same time, and you never wanted it to end. “Fuck, daddy, ’sgood,” you mumbled, unable to stop the word from coming out of your mouth.

You didn’t even realize you had said it until you were flipped onto your back with Eddie in your face, eyes dark and full of ravenous lust. “What did you say?” he ground out through gritted teeth. You shook your head, tears welling in your vision as you tried to think of an excuse. “My pretty baby, still needs to learn how to use her words,” he sighed before pushing your knees up to your chest, slotting himself between them. “That's okay, I’ll teach you.”

Without warning, and without a second of hesitation, he was ripping the thin lace nearly to shreds and pushing a finger into your warmth, grinning sadistically when your eyes rolled back. His pace was slow and brutal, pulling out all the way before slipping back in in perfect measured strokes, as if he was keeping time in his head to some unknown song devised purely to drive you insane.

“That’s right, take my fingers like a good girl,” he smirked, adding another finger without losing his rhythm. You could feel every ridge and bump of his fingers, the cool metal of his ring touching your spread open warmth made heat flare in your belly as you could barely breathe let alone function with his relentless pace, and each measured thrust of his fingers made your brain grow fuzzier. “Now tell me again what you said baby and I’ll reward you.”

The promise of more had you folding easily as you panted a soft, “Daddy, please,” arching your back and rutting your hips into his perfectly measured thrusts. You were rewarded with Eddie’s teeth sinking into the meat of your thigh, another wave of arousal running through you. Your face burned with shame as you heard the wet sound of his fingers slamming into you.

“You like that, don’t you? You like when daddy’s a little mean, hm?” he teased softly, pulling his fingers all the way out of you, staring at your pussy as it fluttered. “You want me back in there, don’t you baby? Your little hole is desperate to get filled isn’t it?” he asked, making you nod as you bit your lip to stop from begging. “Don’t worry princess, daddy’s got you. Just gimme a second, gotta make sure you’re all ready for me,” he grinned.

“Eddie, please, I need you to—“ you started to beg, but Eddie shushed you with another sharp nip to your inner thigh, pulling an embarrassingly high pitched moan out of you.

“Don’t rush me, angel. I’m a tactile learner, and I need a moment to acquaint myself with my new earmuffs before I ruin that pretty hole of yours, got it?” he said firmly. His casual tone made you clench around nothing, feeling more wetness seep out of you onto your thighs. You nodded, sinking back onto his pillow as you tried to catch your breath.

He hummed happily, sitting back on his heels to look at you again, “I can’t get enough baby, I’m sorry, I just—fuck you’re so pretty,” he rambled, “I don’t understand why you’d ever think you’re anything less than perfection. I mean, shit baby, you’re a fuckin’ goddess. My own personal Aphrodite,” he smiled, kissing the inside of your knee.

His impassioned words made you shiver and squirm, and you could feel your arousal pooling on the sheet under you. You knew Eddie had a way with words, but you never expected him to be able to break through years of self deprecation and insecurities with a few compliments.

But even more so than his words was the way Eddie held you and touched you. His fingers trailed over your stretch marks like they were paint strokes of a priceless work of art, and his mouth moved over your skin as if he was savoring the taste of something expensive. It was addicting to feel so loved and wanted — Eddie was addicting.

Ever since the first time you’d met, you realized he had entirely invaded your mind. You hadn’t spent a single day not thinking of him, always finding a reason to be with him or even just talk to him on the phone. Eddie had you — hook, line, and sinker.

“I love you, Eddie,” you sighed, his hands coming to a stop on your stomach.

The next thing you knew he was hovering inches above your face, his eyes glassy as his guitar pick hit your chin, “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it baby, because I’ll really get my hopes up if you do and that would just break my heart if you don’t—“ he started rambling, but you cut him off with a soft hand on his cheek.

“I mean it, Eddie. I love you. I’m sorry I’ve been too scared to say it,” you smiled softly, feeling a tear hit your face. A shred of guilt bubbled in your gut as he stared into his eyes — he had made it clear when he told you he loved you a few weeks prior that he wasn’t expecting you to say it back until you were ready. And you hadn’t been — until now.

“Fuck, princess, I love you. You’re mine now. Mine forever. I’m never letting you go. You look like this and you love me? Never letting anyone take you away from me, baby,” he breathed, crushing his lips to yours firmly. You could taste the tang of your essence on his tongue as it invaded your mouth, his hands pushing under his Hellfire shirt.

He pulled back with a soft smile, kissing the tip of your nose before peeling the shirt off, his eyes going wide as he studied you. You watched his eyes move over every inch of you, no curve or dimple going unseen by him.

“Jesus Christ. I have to be dead. No way in hell God is letting you walk around dripping in pure sin,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. It would have made you giggle if it didn’t make your mouth dry and fanned the flames of desire in your gut.

“Eddie, please,” you sighed, hooking your heels around his waist, pulling him closer to you.

“Gimme a minute, sweetheart. I’m discovering a new religion,” he groaned, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth before sinking back into his position between your spread thighs, “And I’ve found my place of divine worship,” he smirked before burying his face in your cunt.

The sounds he was making bordered on obscene, but you weren’t much better. The high pitched breathy whines leaving your mouth would have made you embarrassed a few hours ago, but now, you couldn’t feel anything but love and desire. It wrapped around you, filling you with a warmth that only Eddie could provide.

The way he devoured you was different — the first time was fueled by a desire to tease, but this was ravenous. His eyes were rolled back as he lapped at your cunt messily, grunts and moans coming out of his mouth. His arm pinned your hips to the mattress, not letting you move an inch as his free hand toyed with your nipples lazily. The feeling of the cold chain on his wrist pressing into your soft tummy and the cold metal buckle of his watch on your hipbone kept you grounded.

“Don’t fight me, angel, let me make you feel good,” he slurred into your pussy, eyes half closed as he pulled back. “Gonna fuck you so good, sweetheart. Gonna make you feel so good,” he sighed, slipping his fingers back into your cunt with a moan, the cold of his metal rings meeting your cunt made you flinch. “See, I belong in here, she opens up for me so sweetly. Squeezin’ me so tight like she never wants to let me go. Made for me, princess. You were made for me, little bunny. I always knew you were, but now I know for sure.”

It was almost embarrassing how fast your orgasm was coming, but you could feel it building quickly. “Fuck, daddy, please,” you cried out, grabbing his forearm where it sat across your hipbones.

“That’s right baby, cum for me. Give me your blessing,” he smirked, his fingers crooking upwards, slamming into the spot that only he seemed to be able to find, and you came apart with a scream.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe let alone think, your whole body being ripped at the seams and put back together again and again, galaxies appearing in your vision and you almost understood what Eddie was talking about. You couldn’t form coherent words as you were blinded by your orgasm, only managing to mumble out a broken, “Please don’t leave,” through the tears.

“My sweet crybaby, I’m not going anywhere. I’m keeping you forever. No one will ever compare to you,” he whispered in your ear, continuing to work his fingers inside you. “Do you think you can take more, sweet girl? Or are you done for today—“

“No! Please, Eddie, I need you to fuck me,” you sobbed, nails digging into his shoulders, “I just need a second, that’s all. I want you, please.”

“Shit baby, you don’t need to beg,” Eddie laughed, kissing your forehead before pulling his fingers out of you with a groan. Through bleary eyes you could see Eddie take his fingers into his mouth, his eyes rolling back as he sucked them clean with a moan, “Fuck, angel. I’ll never get enough of how you taste. So sweet, and all for me.”

The sheer possessiveness in Eddie’s voice made you melt, a shiver running through you as he stared into your eyes, the warm brown a tiny ring around the dark black irises blown wide. “Please, Eddie, I want you to fuck me,” you pleaded, grabbing his hands.

“If you insist, baby,” he cooed gently, rolling onto his back next to you. You heard the clink of his belt coming undone, the handcuff buckle that made your head spin giving way under his dexterous fingers. You hadn’t realized you were transfixed by him, the way his fingers moved to unbutton his pants and drag the zipper down slowly before unceremoniously shoving his jeans and boxers down his long, lean legs, making you clench your thighs together with a whine. His cock sprang free and slapped against his stomach, tip already leaking.

“See something you like, princess?” he asked, making you nod wordlessly, “Good, because I’ve been painfully hard since I saw you in the bathroom, and truthfully I don’t know how long I’m gonna last baby. Your pussy tastes too good, and you’re just too damn beautiful.”

You moaned again, throwing your head back onto his pillow, choosing to ignore his chuckle as he sat between your open legs. You hummed happily feeling him part your pussy lips gently, gasping as you felt the tip of his cock drag through your folds, jolting when you felt the wet bead of pre cum on your clit. “Don’t be mean,” you pouted, opening your eyes to see Eddie smirking down at you.

“My sweet bunny, this isn’t mean,” he laughed, shaking his head, “But you like it a little mean, don’t you?”

You opened your mouth to argue with him, the words caught in your throat with a choke as the head of his cock pushed into your opening, a deep groan taking its place, “Fuck, Eddie.”

“While I do love hearing you moan my name, I rather enjoy the name you lovingly bestowed upon me,” he grinned, inching his hips forward another fraction of an inch before stopping. “Say it again, and I’ll give you what you want, princess.”

You gave in instantly, a warbley, “Please, daddy, I’ll do anything,”coming out of your mouth. The delicious burn of his thick cock splitting you open was more than you had imagined. You knew he’d be a stretch, he’d barely fit in your throat and you knew none of the toys you had hidden in your nightstand were as thick as he was.

“God, you’re just so good for me, sweetheart,” he groaned, rewarding your obedience by pushing himself forward slowly, your velvety walls opening up for him. Tears gathered in the corners of your eyes, silently slipping down the sides of your cheeks, disappearing into your hair. “I love you, my little crybaby,” he cooed, “I know you like it when I’m mean, so don’t try to lie to me. And I’m only gonna ask you this once. Do you want me to be nice, or do you want me to fuck you how I feel my girl needs to be fucked?” You couldn’t do anything but nod dumbly, making him laugh. “I thought so. It’s okay baby, let daddy take care of you.”

With that, he pushed himself all the way in, stealing the air from your lungs and whatever remaining thoughts you had as he did. You lost control of the moans coming out of your mouth, each one more strangled and desperate than the last, and you couldn’t think of anything but Eddie — the way he felt on top of you, the dark black ink that marked his chest, the toe curling pressure of his cock forcing its way into you, and the light catching the sparkly red pick he always kept around his neck swaying back and forth with the time of his thrusts.

But what consumed you was Eddie’s moans. The deep, guttural, raspy moans that sounded like music as they poured out of his throat, veins protruding from his bared neck as the ends of his frizzy hair tickled your skin. You wanted to sink your teeth into the pale expanse, marking him as yours for everyone to see, your mouth nearly watering at the idea.

“I’m not gonna last baby,” he groaned, sounding strained as he squeezed your joined hands, pressed firmly against the mattress, “Where do you want me to cum, sweetheart?”

“Inside,” you whined out, clenching around him at the thought of it as your legs tightened around his waist, locking him against you. The loud, desperate moan that came out of him seared itself into your brain as his hips stuttered to a stop, his pelvis pressed against yours as you felt his cock pulsing inside you, along with the warmth of his cum flooding into you. You didn’t fight the moan of your own at the sensation, feeling your skin tingle with sweat as you teetered on the brink of a third orgasm.

“Fuck, sweetheart, I’m sorry, I couldn’t stop myself,” he panted, his hips jolting every few seconds making you yelp when he ground down onto your sensitive clit, “You can’t just say shit like that and expect me not to lose it angel,” he sighed, pulling out of you with a hiss.

You whined loudly, catching his attention as you reached out for him, your hands burying in his hair as your arms wrapped around his neck.

“What do you need, sweet pea?” he asked, kissing the tears off your cheeks, “Do you need to cum again or are you too overstimulated?” he questioned softly. You couldn’t find the words to respond, only coming up with another desperate whine and a roll of your hips against his softening cock. He grinned victoriously, “That’s my dumb little baby, bein’ so desperate for me even though it hurts so good, doesn’t it?” You nodded solemnly, more tears leaking out of your eyes as you did. “I’ve got you, don’t worry princess.”

His fingers on your clit brought spots to your vision, your mouth falling open in a silent scream as you gasped and writhed against him, unable to focus on anything but the sensation of his fingers on you, and the look of absolute love and devotion in his eyes. “Kiss me,” you gasped.

The next thing you knew, his tongue was in your mouth and your body was convulsing against his hold, the rings on his fingers biting into your skin as he squeezed you impossibly closer to him with one hand and the other rubbed quick, harsh circles on your sensitive clit.

You went boneless against him, fully spent as you came down from your third high. You vaguely registered Eddie’s body moving off the bed and the sound of water running before his hands — his annoyingly pretty, devastatingly talented hands, were rubbing circles into the skin of your inner thighs with a soft washcloth before throwing it somewhere and settling himself beside you.

“You doing okay there, honey?” he asked, kissing your cheek as he maneuvered you into his lap, head resting on his chest as you laid between his open legs. “Did I go too hard?” You shook your head, giving him a soft, dazed smile.

“You were perfect Eddie,” you sighed, letting yourself relax against him, kissing the spider tattoo on his chest making him shiver and laugh.

“No, you got it wrong baby, you are perfect. Jesus Christ, letting me cum inside you and taking three orgasms like a goddamn champ? I swear you were fuckin’ made for me,” Eddie sighed dreamily, making you laugh. After a few moments of silence, he tensed and began stuttering, “I-uh-do have to ask though. A-are you, like, you know—“

“Yes, babe, I am on the pill. We don’t need any little Munson’s showing up before we even graduate,” you laughed, his body sagging in relief.

“Oh fuck, Jesus, you’re the best. I love you so fuckin’ much it should be criminal,” he sighed, kissing the top of your head.

“I love you too, Eddie.”

You sat in silence for a moment, before Eddie groaned, “Seriously though, princess. I’m gonna need you to buy a pair of shorts like, immediately. But you can not wear them to school because I will have to bend you over a desk and fuck you in front of everyone so they all know you’re mine.”

“I mean… I should still have my scoops ahoy uniform from last summer at my house? I could bring it next time—“

Eddie slunk out from under you, on his feet and pulling on his jeans before you could blink. You stared at him, mouth open as he gathered your discarded clothes and threw them to you, “Nope we’re gonna go get it now, because I need to see this.”

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