#The world around him comes rushing back and it’s like he can’t breath.
Text
a friend in need! (e.w.)
─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡
SYNOPSIS: heartbreak aid during the apocalypse, you ask?
WORD COUNT: 5k
WARNINGS: bff!ellie who’s sad, kinda perv oc who’s eager to fix that, remixed version of seattle!ellie, dina catching strays for no reason (i love her pls), wound care but erotic, SMUT AGELESS BLOGS/MINORS DNI, dubcon (nasty green), porn watching, mutual/guided masturbation, brief poochie eating, oc in denial ab her little crush, real girlhood <3, slight angst :(
A/N: the bubblegum apocalypse where no one dies or lies. #SCISSORING
─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡
The gates of Jackson open, and relief rushes through your chest.
Everyone is accounted for. Ellie’s accounted for.
Weeks—or however the fuck long— of pent-up anxiety finally settles in your limbs as you sprint towards Shimmer while Jesse tends to Dina, greeting the hazel mount with coos and rustles through her fur. Baby needs a bath and a good brushing.
Your eyes swiftly shift from her to your best friend, “Ellie, I’m so glad— “
“Can you help me down, please?”
Creases bunch in your forehead at the strain in her tone. And then you’re met with the blood-soaked wrap that's enclosed around her jean-covered thigh.
“Oh, shit… c’mere.”
Ellie’s good leg swings over the saddle, and you hold her waist to ease her down into the muddy grass. Joel’s the first one to engulf her. They exchange words that you don’t catch before his reluctant arms drop to guide Shimmer back to the stocks, leaving you two alone. You can’t stop yourself from throwing your arms around her neck next, mindful of her leg.
“I didn’t know what to think when y’all didn’t come back,” you whisper.
When the two girls first made their departure to Seattle, the icy remains of winter had just begun to melt into the dirt beneath it, and that alone felt like ages ago. There’s mosquitoes and moths everywhere now, following wherever the sun beams.
A strong arm wraps around your waist, and you instantly stiffen and detach from her, hands resting on her shoulders.
Her gaze drops to the ground when you whisper, “What happened, Ellie? You okay?”
She breathes. “Peachy.”
Your hands drop when she turns in the direction of her home, head jerking when she says, “I’m gonna shower.”
“Dinners supposed to be really good tonight!” You exclaim with a broken smile when she takes her first hobble, “Eat with me? Consider it a celebration that you made it home safe.”
Ellie seems to soften at your invitation, head bobbing in approval, and you smile.
She holds her fist out to you, “See you in 20?”
You bump your knuckles against hers with strained cheeks, “See you in 20.”
One small, comforting smile from her, and she’s off, limping back home.
“What’s up with them?”
You flinch at the too close whisper from Jesse, and you shrug. “Maybe they broke up.”
“Doubt it,” He snorts, “Dina told me it was brutal on the way back. The bastards were everywhere, she said. They’re probably still shook up.”
“Damn… How’s she doing?”
“Weird as hell. I think she’s sick or something,” Concern is melting off him, “She’s getting checked out now.”
“I’ll check on her later,” You face him, “Coming to dinner?”
“Probably not. Gotta make sure Dee’s good.” He’s already walking off, trailing after his friend…? Ex? You never know what to call them.
“See ya.” You wave awkwardly.
Weird.
─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡
How do you cheer up a friend that just witnessed three dozen infected tear another small community to shreds? At least, according to Jesse. He was able to get more out of Ellie and Dina than you were, apparently.
You don’t know how Ellie — or anyone — could experience such barbarous scenes as frequently as they do. You’ve been on patrol twice since you stumbled upon Jackson a few years back, and each venture leaves you less and less eager to see the world beyond its walls. You respect their bravery, not only for being able to dive head first into unknown territory with nothing but bullets and faith, but to also face those walking demons at every corner.
Your closest friend is often excited to show you scavenged artifacts that she has collected, but… she’s barely spoken to you since you helped her off Shimmer.
Her silence is uncommon, and therefore, frightening.
“It’s been a while since we’ve had fish,” you scoff weakly, poking your carrots with your fork, “It’s good, huh?”
Her focus shifts from the tablecloth to you.
Silence.
You drop your utensil, “Fuck, Ellie… dude, what happened out there? Jesse told me… that y'all got caught up— “
“Dina’s pregnant.”
He didn’t tell you that.
Ellie’s whisper breezes past your ears so fast that you barely catch it. The canteen continues to bustle with hungry, ravaged patrons who returned from their second round of patrol. You assumed Ellie was one of them after her scattered return, but she hasn’t touched anything on her plate. Not even her carrots. Her favorite; A literal goddamn rabbit.
No wonder she hasn’t eaten… Who could’ve with news like that? Especially considering the high she was riding before the couple left.
“What.”
Ellie’s head shakes with gall, and a disappointed grin plumps her cheeks.
“Yup… Can’t wait to tell Maria.”
Sharing the news of a new Jackson kiddo sounds like the last thing on her mind. Days before the two took off, she was squealing like a wild hyena in the wee hours of the night, gushing to you about the midnight explorations with her long-term crush. Her retellings of their first night together were vivid: filled with pent up tension and need and unfiltered lust. According to Ellie, they could’ve gotten married in a fortnight with the relationship they’d built over the years, and you believed her. Sadly.
You were present, observant, during your teenage years. You were there when Cat kissed Ellie, when they broke up, when Ellie had recurring nightmares about Riley and was desperate for comfort from you, when Ellie fell for Dina…
And now they’re in a pickle. A fat one.
Hearing about Ellie’s relationship never went how you’d assume. You expected to be happy for your friend whenever she enthused about a topic that brought about such elation, but there was always something about the stories that gave you pause. Something that burned in the pit of your stomach and caused you to, frankly, fake congratulations. You’re unsure why, but hearing about Dina and Ellie’s relationship potentially being tarnished is calming that simmer inside you.
“Just when I thought…” She scoffs quietly. “Whatever. Fuck it.”
You can’t resist and slip, “… Who’s the daddy?” And she hisses.
“Guess.”
But you don’t have to... Fuck.
Dina and Jesse’s relationship was… something. In adolescence, Ellie was either secretly celebrating their multitude of separations or crying to you about them getting back together. Their consistent streak of being on and off clearly got the best of them. There’s a ball of cells growing inside of your friend’s almost-girlfriend.
“Shit… maybe it was… a misunderstanding? Doesn’t it take a couple weeks to… form in the womb or whatever?”
You’re not the devil's advocate. Your lips clamp at Ellie’s stern glare.
“There’s no misunderstanding.”
Your shoulders slump at the distance in her eyes. The indifference she’s exuding can’t disguise the hurt that she’s experiencing internally. Your heart aches for her, despite the excited jitters in your fingers.
“… Sorry, man.”
“I don’t care.”
Good, you impulsively want to say. You shove it down into the hardwood beneath your soles. Your brows furrow in annoyance, more so at yourself for not being remorseful. “Fuck off. Yes, you do, and that’s okay. It’s normal.”
“Can we go?”
Her request is sudden and cracked, and every inkling of pride deflates in your chest. Poor thing; How could you feel like this when she’s this scattered? Guilt replaces whatever dark fantasy you’ve conjured up in the past five minutes.
You move to stand without objection. Fuck the carrots, “Yeah. Let’s roll— “
An instant lightbulb above your head… and it’s glowing green. Roll.
Roll!
Mischief shines in your chest and eyes when you glance around the packed space in search for,
“TOMMY!”
A flash of brown hair turns to meet your sprinting form. The peach he’s holding looks devine.
“You seen ‘Gene anywhere?”
Your grin widens at his disapproving stare.
─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡
“Be careful with those, shit-for-brain! I’m not coming to save your ass like last time!”
“Got it, boss!” You squeak with a polite smile, shoving the small baggie of rolled joints into your stuffed satchel. It vanishes the second Eugene slams his vault to his dirty ass man cave, “Fucking dicksucker.” You huff.
Ellie snickers from beside you. “C’mon. Be nice.”
“No. He skimped on me last time. Toke hog.”
The walk to your place is colder than usual, but it’s beautiful out. The moon shines from behind the dark clouds, illuminating the ivory that shields the incoming spring grass. Gorgeously cinematic; A scenery that gets the heart thumping. Aching. Yearning.
You lead Ellie onto your porch and into your home. She removes her jacket and kicks off her boots, throwing her armor over the designated rack. Your satchel goes flying across the room until it clatters on your bed. Black tapes spill all over the mattress, and Ellie scolds you disapprovingly.
“Again? Really?”
You smirk. Eugene’s always too blasted to punish your kleptocracy, “No one has a better porn collection than ‘Ge— “
Her jaw slacks, “Porn?! What the fuck, I thought those were the Jurassic Park— “
“They’re not…” Before pondering, “Although that’d be some crazy role play. RAAAWR— “
“You’re the fucking worst.”
“C’mon! Look at these titles,” You skip to your bedside to snag a couple tapes, “Smoochie the Coochie… Banging my hot neighbor…”
A boisterous laugh passes your lips, “Throbbin’ Hood: Prince of Beaves! Tell me that’s not fucking hilarious!”
Ellie doesn’t laugh. Hasn’t laughed. Just simmers by the front door with red dusting her cheeks. How adorable!
“Why’re you looking like that?”
When her eyes travel over the creases between your brows and confused smile, your feet give an awkward stutter. This wasn’t the reaction you were expecting. At the very least, she should’ve cracked a smile by now. Even an insecure one.
You peer down at the tapes in your hand and back up at her. Her posture shifted: arms wrapped protectively around her waist while she leaned on the balls of her feet, eyes inspecting the dim lights of your space.
Another lightbulb. Not a green one.
“Have you ever watched porn?”
She shrugs with floundering shoulders. You chuckle.
“It’s just for shits and giggles, Ellie. Don’t be so serious. The acting sucks and you needa good laugh.”
You cradle the filled baggie like it holds a sacred orb and waltz towards the VCR. Your screen shifts from bright blue to the tape’s introduction screen. Naked men in speedos… Ellie plops down on the couch behind and mindlessly flicks a lighter. You reach into the baggie and toss her the fattest joint available before working the remote.
A sigh releases… then another flicker… then a long, drawled out exhale. You grin.
You, remote in hand, plop down next to her, “Is it good?”
“Better than last time, for sure.” You trade the remote for the joint, arm wrapped around your angled legs as you pull. Hits smooth… er. It still dries your throat.
“Remind me to thank him.”
─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡
Two joints down. Two tapes completed. Three wide smiles from Ellie from the bad acting. The night’s a win in your book.
She lazily lights another joint while you switch out the tapes. You purposely saved the best for last: apparently the only lesbian porno in that bastard’s whole cave. When’s the last time you’ve smoochied a coochie?
More importantly, when’s the last time Ellie has? Recently, you assume; She and Dina were too close to only be going on long walks in the woods. The more you smoke, the more your mind wanders where it shouldn’t.
… Your friend is a lover. Always has been, despite her efforts of convincing you, herself — everyone — that she’s emotionally indifferent. Craves affection, both verbal and physical, like she’s deprived. She raves to you about her desires on a weekly basis, for fucks sake! Someone hug the poor girl!
“Feeling better?” You squeak when you plant on the cushion. Ellie nods with a soft grin.
“Thank you.”
Your hands clap together and her body shakes from the recoil. “The night’s not over yet! I got a surprise for you! Happy Birthday!”
“It’s not my birthday… I don’t know my birthday— “
Your smile is laced with grating sarcasm, “Wow, you really know how to kill the vibe! Just play along, goddamn!”
You sigh when her expression flattens.
“Ellie…”
“Yes?”
Oh… That crackly tone did a little something. Cheering Clitorous. Alright. Okay.
“I found a little something in ‘Gene’s special drawer— “
“Aren’t all his drawers special.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be shutting the fuck up.”
Her red eyes widen, but she silences.
“You know what feels really nice after a bad breakup?”
Her middle finger digs into her dry eye, “Getting high and watching porn with the only other lesbian you know?”
“Even better,” Your hand claps down on her jean-clad, uninjured thigh. “Getting high and watching lesbian porn with the only other lesbian you know… while getting head. A true fixer-upper.”
More silence, and your tummy gives a nervous tumble. Eugene’s bud gives you enough courage to make eye contact, and, given any other circumstance, you would’ve hollered laughter at how stunned Ellie looks, eyes nearly stretched beyond her lids, but you don’t. You press on when she denies you.
“You’re lying.”
“Am I?” Your thumb presses the large button in the middle and the screen displays two, three — six women… all sprawled out on white carpet while lewdness shines through their eyes… And not at all the romantic wives fingering each other next to the fireplace like you envisioned. Plus, the music sucks. Who the fuck plays the accordion while bumping cooters?
Your eyes circle around and… Oh, wow. A lot less tame than you were expecting… Are those chains and a paddle?
What the fuck, Eugene.
“Oh, shit.”
Ellie’s either impressed or about to go on a judgmental rampage. You gauge her expression curiously. Her lashes keep fluttering like butterfly wings. You nearly coo audibly. She always does that when she’s excited! What a cutie!
Ellie recites the description at the bottom of the screen, “When six girls go off into the woods for an early 4th of July getaway, conversations take a lustful… and explorative turn. Find out what happens during one late, hot evening after a game of… kiss and blow?”
You snort, “Are you asking me?”
“Well, yeah… The fuck is kiss and blow?”
You shrug, “Find out.”
One click of the remote, and the footage begins… More giggles from Ellie, and something flutters in your chest. You’ll have to watch bad acting with her more often.
─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡
Six minutes into Smoochie the Coochie, and you still don’t know what kiss and blow is. And you don’t care to find out.
High pitched moans and pleasured squeals that almost sound phony rings in your hazy skull as you stare up at your best friend from between her covered legs.
This is the quietest she’s been all night: her eyes are locked on the screen behind you, completely entranced with flushed cheeks by what you assume is the sweatiest, raunchiest… scissoring, is what it’s called? On the screen. Maybe. You’re wired and can’t think straight and Ellie’s hot.
“Are we really doing this right now?”
She whispers when you caress her thigh over her pants, and you nod approvingly. Desperately, but she can’t tell. “Up to you.”
You don’t expect a cold hand to come up and tenderly brush against your cheek. You shudder and nuzzle into it. Sober you would be so embarrassed at how you’re reacting to her affections. You’ve never been the needy one.
“Can we…”
You pout and burn with embarrassment, but start to pull back, “Stop?”
“No, no…” Her eyes meet yours and your body locks. A bit nervous. “I dunno…”
“Tell me.”
“Later.” She whispers.
You stare skeptically as she plays with your earlobe. “I promise I’m good. I want this. I’ll tell you later.”
A pause before you sigh. “Okay. Up.” You pat her thigh and her hips rise. Her unbuttoned jeans are peeled down her legs, gently over her fresh bandage, and tossed beside you. Your body is miles ahead of your brain; before you realize, your lips smack all over her bruised thighs, peppering over the freshly bandaged scars and faded ones. She squirms where she sits, shaky breaths puffing from her lips.
Your mouth travels higher, and an encouraging hand lands on the back of your head, massaging your scalp.
“Tell me what’s happening.” You mumble against her, a blind finger pointing back at the screen.
“I don’t — So much shit is going on. Like… from all directions.”
You smile against her thigh, “Someone catch your attention?”
“I…”
But no explanation is needed. There’s treads of weakness in her growl. Go figure.
“Lemme guess… She look like her?”
If she catches the unwarranted agitation in your tone, she doesn’t mention it. Simply digs her nails into the back of your head. No forceful tugs at your hair, but a warning, and your teeth beam.
“I dunno what the fuck you’re smiling for, but it’s gonna piss me off soon.”
There's a smidge of threat in her voice, so your kisses travel up. A pleasant distraction, given every small twitch of her legs.
Not too long before you reach the hem of her underwear, and you trap it between your teeth before releasing it. Her tummy jolts when the fabric hits her skin, and you go heart-eyed.
“Tell me who you’re looking at.”
“T-The one that brought all that crazy shit to the party.”
Of course. Handcuffs, she means. The large, wooden paddle, she means. A slow drag of your tongue advances up her v-line and her body wracks against her will.
“Crazy in a bad way?” You purr against softness, and she exhales a laugh. “Not in this context, I guess.”
“You like that kinda stuff?”
“How the fuck would I know?”
You snort before your eyes fall, trapped by the small patch of wetness that sticks to her panties. Glues the outline of her lips to the fabric. You’re seconds — inches away from going feral.
Whatever patience you entered with has withered: and with determined hands, Ellie’s underwear gets yanked, pried down her legs and tossed behind you. Your eyes glisten with excitement when they meet the red pearl that twitches in anticipation, walls that leak when the warmth of your breath brushes over the cup of her.
Her pussy’s perfect. A stunner, for sure. You and Cat were never close, but you’d hit her up to get Ellie tatted. Not even in a discreet place. It’d be somewhere where everyone — Dina — can see. On your forehead, for fucks sake—
S-Stop staring at me.
It seemed like the moans behind you became louder. You nearly shove three fingers in Ellie’s mouth as punishment for interrupting the moment, but you choke on a breath. Mumble a slur of you’re cute, can’t help it in an attempt to ease her.
And just when your tongue unravels over your bottom lip, right when Ellie’s taste is millimeters away, right when her breath hitches and her mouth drops open, the loudest crack, very reminiscent of bullets, rings across your small living room. Scares her, scares you enough to steal the attention from the art between her thighs.
The sight on the screen is new, even for you.
It’s not every day you see girls being slung across muscly laps and swatted on the ass with wooden tools with their hands bound behind them while they cry and sob and beg for their masters to hit them harder. You probably would’ve laughed at the theatrics if Ellie wasn’t here, as if you weren't about to go to town on her ten seconds ago. Both your breaths shudder and tremble as raunchy sounds of lips smacking and girls touching themselves and fingering each other split your ears in half.
Your vision tunnels and shifts when a whimper from Ellie rattles through your chest and down your ribcage. She gasps like you’ve caught her doing something bad, but she doesn’t stop whatever she’s doing. Just blushes madly with her hand shoved between her squeezed legs while her eyes flicker between you and the screen.
Time seems to whir and the room spins. The pace of your breath increases, slobbery wheezes syncing with Ellie’s when her legs cross over one another.
Your muscles move you closer, hands planted on either side of her waist, back enlengthening until your eyes are level with hers. Her tongue barely dips to wet her bottom lip, eyes swiftly flickering down to your mouth.
A hand raises right when another crack of a paddle against skin ripples through your speakers, and before Ellie can flinch, your palm caresses her cheek, thumb exploring the divets in her face. Over the healed wounds and fiery specks that hypnotize. You don’t expect her to nuzzle into your touch…
And you definitely don’t expect her arm to start moving, despite its enclosing.
Her eyelids bat, and green pierces through your chest. Over your neck, your face, your shoulders as her bicep twitches. When her lips part around a gasp, you choke.
Lemme see.
Ellie curses under her breath, kisses your palm, and undoes the twining of her legs. Her fingers are gentle where they rest over her pussy, the bones in her hand flexing as her palm digs into her clit, folds smushed around the muscles of her thumb.
That’s how you do it?
Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, masking a smile as her head shakes. Your heart pinches.
Show me how.
Her head falls to the side as her cheeks sizzle.
You first.
You shudder, and your brain scolds. This wasn’t the plan. You were supposed to smoke, watch porn, eat pussy, and escort her home safely.
Not the fucking plan.
─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡
Ellie insisted that you restart Smoochie the Coochie before you undress. For ambiance, she’d said when you stood on two feet, watching as she removed her hoodie. For me? She’d whispered against your cheek, in only a tank top, when you finally positioned yourself on the cushion in front of her. Face to face, pussies almost touching, your knees to the ceiling.
The volume of the footage has been turned down, but the acting… it’s fucking hilarious. You shouldn’t be smiling. You shouldn’t be giggling, but you are.
Ellie moves loose strands of hair behind her ear, grin matching yours.
“Hm?”
“Nothing.”
“Hm.”
Ellie, much to your shock, makes the first move. Again.
Takes your wrist in her hand, brings your limp one up to her mouth to pepper kisses on your knuckles before pressing in between your open thighs. Your fingers are clumsy and your heart pounds against your ribcage, thighs jerking at the sticky contact of your own juices. Ellie's eyes between your legs like a hawk, leant comfortably against the pillows stacked behind her.
Her attention encourages you. You balance on the hand that rests on the couch, grinning playfully around the fingers that sink into your mouth and glide on your tongue. Ellie shakes her head with a small smile before reaching for the lighter and last joint. Sticks the end of it between her lips, flicks the lighter twice, and ignites it.
Every slow exhale of smoke gets rewarded with presses on your clit, your index and middle fingers tickling the sensitive area with learned precision. It pulsates under your fingertips whenever you lock eyes; her eyes are fervent with need, uncontrollably so, and it sends vibrations through your spine.
Slower, Ellie whispers wetly when your touch becomes rushed. Too eager for her liking. She’s always hated when you rush things. Loathes your impatience.
The moans from the film pick up again: shaky and cracked and high. They match yours when you apply just enough pressure on the spot right above your clit. Your walls constrict and slick gushes from, and Ellie curses.
When your fingers explore elsewhere, she sits up suddenly, her breath hitting your mouth when she mutters, Keep touching right there, with a tight hand around your wrist, trying to guide you back to the spot that makes your thighs quake.
I’m gonna cum if I do. There’s warning in your gasp.
Ellie puffs again before huffing a smoky breath, the scent infiltrating your senses. Your fingers almost sink inside, Wasn’t that the plan?
Cum w-with me?
Your voice is pleading, tone almost identical to when you would incessantly pester and follow Ellie around Jackson when you were younger.
Ellie, watch a movie with me?
Ellie, do a puzzle with me?
Ellie, go on a walk with me?
Ellie! Ellie! Ellie!
What used to be innocent invitations have swiftly shifted into something darker, and Ellie needs more. A shocked squeak leaves you when her free hand curls around the back of your neck to smash your lips together. Your hazy mind hadn’t registered Ellie’s fiery stares at your bruised lips, her head tilting in the opposite direction of yours, her nose brushing against yours whenever your fingers made a gooey noise.
Your eyes flutter shut when her tongue sloppily glides over your bottom lip, moans quenchless where they hit Ellie’s tongue. She swallows them down until they jolt in her stomach, and shoves her hand between her thighs once more.
Her fingers are drenched and so are yours; there’s nasty, slicked noises everywhere. From you, from Ellie, from the television that’s been forgotten by both of you.
Ellie’s movements become desperate in a matter of seconds, no longer able to keep up the pace of your kiss. Your separated lips connect only by a thin line of saliva as Ellie gasps hit the skin of your cheek.
Can’t wait to feel you on me.
Your euphoria begs to peak at Ellie’s promise, your fingers massaging all the spots that send you to the stars at a desperate pace, trying to match Ellie’s.
Cum with me, she growls like you did, Cum with me, cum with me, fuck —
Your friend’s name is a prayer on your tongue, shrouded in lust and a longing you’ve forced down to non-existence. You both succumb to pleasure in unison, the pulsing between your thighs synched with hers as she whimpers out.
I wanna tie you up like that. Tie you up? Beat your ass raw and bloody? Whatever she's looking at, you want. You'll take without hassle. Anything for her. After one glance at the screen,
Cumming for you, oh shit—
You wring out your high until there’s nothing left to give her, legs closing around your wrist at the aching sensitivity. Ellie’s head falls onto the arch of your knees, lathering your skin in spit-filled kisses, her soaked hand slowing between her legs.
“Lay down.”
“H-Hm?”
“Lay down,” you croak.
And she does, eyes filled with carnality.
The porno is long forgotten when your head shoves between Ellie’s legs, the tape stuck on the starter screen while her cries of pleasure blend with the same bullshit accordion.
You tongue her with fever, drink down all of her heartbreak that she endured while she was away from the source, mark yourself all over the terrain of her until she shatters with a cry of your name. Drenches your mouth, your tongue, your chin. Pushes you away with a cautious hand when you don’t stop. Flinches with sensitivity.
─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡
“Hold still.”
You swipe the disinfecting wipe over Ellie’s wound, fresh blood leaking into the white cotton. She assembles new bandages where she sits above you, unraveling the sterile fabric for you to wrap her in.
“I’m trying!” She whines, “It still hurts.”
“Shouldn’t have tried to ride my face— “
She flicks your forehead so hard, it thumps like a drum, and you wince before playfully biting her finger.
She snickers and allows you to collect the last bits of blood with the last tarnished rag in your first-aid kit, snagging the bandages from her grasp. She holds down the new gauze and does as she’s told, lifting her thigh on your command as you bind her messy stitches.
Why did you kiss them, though?
It lasted 0.5 seconds. A quick, gentle smack meant to soothe, but your brain doesn’t see it that way. Red alarms glow in every crevice of your cerebrum, urging you to move away from your best friend. You stare at Ellie and Ellie stares back, expression no longer readable and easy-going, and you flinch away from her.
Inviting her over for some innocent porn-watching is one thing… but kissing her without motive? Without the need to progress into something more? It stuns you more than her. You think.
“Sor — sorry — “
Ellie’s already palming at your shoulders, “It’s okay… it’s not a big deal— “
And it’s not. Why does her confirmation bloom a new ache in your chest?
Your knees pop when you hurriedly stand, and Ellie follows, hands sliding down your arms to grab your hands.
“Hey…”
You meet her eyes.
“We’re good… okay? It’s nothing serious.”
Don’t cry. You agree with a grin. One you pray she doesn’t notice cracks in its corners. She says nothing. Just caresses your cheek in unsaid thanks. Thanks for tonight. Thanks for the distraction.
Ellie returns a smile before gathering her clothes off the floor. She dresses in silence as you watch with a sorrowful gleam. Is it selfish to ask her to stay? Would it be too much? Should you? Will you?
It’s when she’s tying her boots up that you say something.
“I can walk you back!”
“I got it. I’m not going straight home.”
Ellie’s denial is calm. Gentle. Not abrasive in the slightest, but your hands quiver and heart swells, bound to burst with dejection. Where is she going? The town is sleeping.
She leaves before you can ask with a promise of seeing you in the morning for breakfast. Nothing unfamiliar, nothing changed.
Tears rock you to sleep, and you’re not sure why.
─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡
#ellie williams smut#ellie williams#ellie williams tlou#ellie x reader#ellie williams x reader#ellie x fem reader#ellie the last of us#lesbian#works 𖧧࣪
748 notes
·
View notes
Text
this whole agreement was stressing pope out. though he’d convinced himself it was okay, he knew deep down that sleeping with you just because your lying, cheating kook boyfriend couldn’t make you cum was morally wrong. this time around had been a close call. too close.
his life had become something out of a cheap porno — he finishes his shift at the local pizza place, and cycles his delivery bike all the way to your place to lay it on you. it had even gotten to the point where pope had stopped bringing you pizza, because there was no longer a reason to pretend that was why he was really there.
things had gotten risky, and this time around he’d very nearly screwed things, your boyfriend stopping by and letting himself in whilst the two of you had been at it in the shower, your favourite pizza delivery boy having crowded you against the tiles with his head shoved into your crotch, hot water running down his toned back. he seemed to be enjoying himself a lot, despite it being you to have forced him in there due to the fact he was kind of vaguely still smelling like pepperoni.
you’d appeared sopping wet in the hallway with a tiny towel wrapped round you, eyes wide as saucers when you’d seen the boyfriend coming right towards the bathroom. “why are you here?” you practically barked as pope listens in as best as he can over the sound of the running water.
“i was in the area and i needed to pee. can i?” even now, the attitude drips off his voice and pope is gritting his teeth.
“do you need to? i’m showering.” you try to hide the panic in your tone as he shuffles past you, busting right in. you hold your breath, as does pope as he stands as still as possible behind the shower curtain.
he does his business, both you and pope stiff as a statue as he zips himself back up — looking around casually without a rush in the world.
“showering, huh? you know i got time. could always let me in there with you.” he takes a step towards the shower curtain, beckoning you and you panic.
“no! its— it’s not that kind of shower. its an everything shower, you know — shaving everything… and stuff. trust me, you don’t wanna go in there.” you convince, making the kook ken doll roll his eyes but back off anyway.
“you never wanna have fun anymore.” he grumbles, and you see him out. infact, you stand at the door in your towel and make sure he’s gone before returning and yanking back the shower curtain.
“nope.” pope is immediately speaking, shaking his head as droplets fall off his hair. he goes to move past you, reaching for a towel. “i can’t do this, okay! it’s stressing me the fuck out.”
your brows knit, grabbing at his slippery arms to try and get him to be still. “please? he’s gone, pope. i made sure… i— i need this. it’s been such a long week.”
he’s in the midst of wrapping a towel round his waist, glancing up at you through the fogged mirror. “you’re gonna have to do it yourself.” in frustration, you stomp your foot petulantly, still draped in a tiny towel. at your mini tantrum, pope raises his eyebrows — unimpressed and swivels his body round to look at you, intrigued. the brattiness melts away for a second and you avert his eyes, for the first time showing nervousness.
“i don’t know how to do that… why’d you think i need you so bad?”
now, that — was a turning point for him. he was trying to get himself out of this toxic (yet highly addictive) situation, but he couldn’t bring himself to pass up the opportunity to teach. especially to teach you, he always loved how pliant you got when told what to do.
it’s how your damp bodies wound up on your bed, towels discarded with your back to his chest, legs spread. his hands squish at your thighs bordering on being cruel as he holds them open, watching the way your fingers roll over the bead of your clit.
“see, there’s not really a science to it— it’s about figuring out what feels right for you.” his voice is deeper than usual when it’s in your ear, and you shudder at the sound, nodding and swallowing because it’s all you can manage. “its how i figured you out so fast, you’re so responsive — it gave me great feedback on how i could make you cum. just from following your bodies reaction.” he brings a hand down and easily adjusts your smaller one. “middle and ring finger for when you wanna go inside.” he slides them down to your hole, massaging the pad of his fingers against yours to aid your movement. “and the thumb stays right up here to rub your clit. are you getting it?”
“i would rather you— i would rather you do it.” the first time you try to speak, it’s your usual spoiled self — but your breath hitches in your throat and it comes out meeker the second time you try.
“i know.” he croons, and when his lips brush your ear you think he might be coming down to kiss your cheek affectionately. instead, he speaks again. “but then this whole thing would be pointless. you’re here to learn, right?
120 notes
·
View notes
Text
·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. satoru’s love for you has never diminished—even after being your husband for a few years now. in fact, his love for you continues to increase with each passing day.
wc. 500-ish
tags. husband!gojo satoru x wife!female reader. fluff. satoru being clingy as per usual. reader gets called ‘sweetheart, my wife.’
“and my lovely wife right here will have the vanilla flavour,” satoru announces to the ice cream man. he’s smiling from ear to ear as he shamelessly puts emphasis on the word ‘lovely’.
it’s embarrassing to you. especially because everyone in the queue - plus the vendor - is staring at you. some giggle at the affectionate display from your husband, others just stare or roll their eyes.
satoru does not care about any of them. all he cares about is expressing his love to you in any way he can—whenever, wherever. this time he went for a much more. . . direct approach.
“you didn’t have to say it like that,” you mumble under your breath. you tug at satoru’s arm, clinging onto him whilst hiding your face against his bicep.
you get even more flustered when the man behind the counter nods at your lover’s words—telling you he ‘agrees that you’re indeed a lovely woman’.
satoru feels a sense of pride in having you with him. he always does. seeing the reactions of others when he’s boasting about having a pretty wife makes him feel all giddy.
“why? i’m proud of my wife,” satoru shrugs nonchalantly. he lowers his head to yours, looking you in the eyes from behind his sunglasses. he giggles once he sees that flustered expression of yours from up close.
the sorcerer ruffles your hair before over excessively nuzzling his cheek against yours. perhaps he’s actually experiencing what’s called a love surge, “my girl, my sweetheart.”
you cringe at the cheesy moment that’s happening. you love satoru and his clingy affectionate gestures, but when you’re surrounded by a bunch of people, it can become overwhelming.
you whimper and scrunch your nose up, “mghhh, stop it—we’re in public, ‘toru.”
a futile attempt to stop the white haired man. though, after a few seconds, he actually halts his movements. satoru pouts dramatically whilst holding your face in his hands. he squeezes your cheeks together, “awww. . . but what if i want the world to know that i’m the luckiest man ali—ow!”
you bite satoru’s thumb the second it teasingly rubs with your bottom lip. he’s always so touchy and knows no boundaries when it comes to pda. however, it does make you happy to know that he’s not afraid to show you off to the world.
you playfully frown at your husband, his thumb still between your teeth. it’s cute how easily flustered you get. it makes him want to play with you some more—to tease you some more.
“alright, alright,” satoru gives up and sighs deeply. his head is held low as he steps back to give you some space, “i jus’ wanted to let my girl know how much i adore her, y’know.”
“hah, i’m not falling for your dramatics this time,” you chuckle and roll your eyes. you grab your order once it’s done and walk out of the shop without waiting for your pouty but lovely husband.
you hear him whine out your name. satoru hurriedly grabs his own ice cream cone before rushing after you. once he’s caught up, he wraps his arms around you from behind and lifts you up.
“hey! you can’t just leave your hubby like that. c’mere,” satoru smirks and you can hear it in his voice. you kick your legs, though to no avail.
“gojo satoru! don’t you dare,” you warn whilst holding tightly onto your dessert. satoru ignores your warning and spins you around in circles with him—laughing at your high pitched shrieks.
he doesn’t stop until you’re both dizzy and have to hold onto each other to prevent from falling. satoru kisses your neck gently and you can feel him smiling against your skin, “i love you, sweetheart.”
his love for you has and will never fade. many may say that the honeymoon phase will end sooner or later in a marriage, but that’s definitely not the case with your marriage.
satoru will always be head over heels for you and his affection for you will never stop. even if you’re both old and grey; he’s going to love you all the same.
#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#jjk x you#jjk fluff#gojo fluff#gojo x you#female reader
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ blessings ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
↬ summary: nanami kento tries to be the perfect husband and father but when a tough night fighting curses ends badly it results in nanami snapping at his daughter.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ minors / ageless / blank blogs (dni) ↬･tags: nanami x female reader; hurt/comfort; nanami has a daughter; domestic drama; being a jujutsu sorcerer is hard; momotarō is a famous Japanese folk tale :c ↬･ wc: 3,383
↬ notes: hi, everyone! I'm currently not really active at the moment so please don't feel disheartened if I haven't been responding to your messages or tagged posts. I'm taking a small break and only coming online for a bit to catch up on some messages, read fics or queue posts. I'll be back to properly posting and interacting soon but in the meantime I wanted to share that I finished up this draft over the weekend. I was actually debating if I should post this but then just decided to go for it! sending all my love xx
nanami’s head is heavy, completely clouded with despair, and it tints his brown eyes a shade of murky gray. the walls of his beautiful home feel narrow, almost claustrophobic, which explains why he’s struggling to catch his breath right now. stepping into the hallway, he instinctively peeks into the dining area to find you and his daughter eating dinner together. she’s sitting on the chair, her legs far too short to even touch the ground, holding a half eaten onigiri between her small hands. you are by her side, sneakily tidying up after her as you brush away the stray beads of rice trickling onto the table.
a little glow blooms in nanami’s heart at the sight of you both but there is a vicious creature residing in the pit of his stomach that veils the bright light away.
he quietly takes off his jacket, his bruised fingers loosening the tie around his neck. he clears his throat before announcing with exhaustion to you both that he’s finally home.
your eyes meet his, the muscles on your face falling immediately. he can practically feel the blood rushing through your veins as worry washes over you. the reaction makes his chest uncomfortably tight, but he knows that he can’t hide his expressions around you like he used to.
you both move together so fluidly now, like a single body of water that ebbs and flows to its own natural current.
he escaped the night’s fight with a few cuts and a couple of bad bruises, but there is currently a student on shoko’s table who barely made it through. the young man arrived at jujutsu tech only a couple of weeks ago, but his naive and charismatic qualities turned into fatal flaws in the world of sorcery.
he bit off more than he could chew by trying to take on a special grade curse.
shoko promised nanami that she would heal the boy, but admitted there was only so much she can do in regards to the aftermath of his injuries. the sorcerer couldn’t bare to leave him behind, but gojo refused that he stay and insisted that he return back home to his pretty wife and adorable daughter immediately.
“I’ll handle things from here,” is what his superior said, while nanami’s guilt climbed up his throat.
that student was his responsibility...
...and he failed him entirely.
“papa’s home!” his daughter chirps. the pitch of her voice ringing in nanami’s ears to pull him back to the present and far away from the scene where life and death were dancing together in a tango. “papa, look, look...mama and I made onigiri!”
her feet bounces up and down, and there’s a touch of a pink against her cheeks when her mouth stretches into a beaming grin. the innocence in her eyes makes nanami falter and he can feel himself falling deeper into the abyss. for a minute he resents himself for selfishly bringing such a beautiful thing into this world, only to gamble with the fact that she may potentially be in his shoes one day.
he begs for that outcome to never happen, beseeches whatever higher power above him that exists to spare her from this life. she should never have to go through this, never have to experience these heartbreaks that only wither a person down.
“I can see that,” nanami replies in a low voice before shifting his attention to his feet.
right now, he can’t stomach an ounce of her purity, and it radiates around her like a halo. she's so unbothered by his presence, so completely unaware of the sudden change in the atmosphere around her...
“we made tuna, salmon, and veggies...” she babbles on.
“how nice...” nanami curtly interrupts, before anxiously running his fingers through the strands of his messy blonde hair.
“which one do you want, papa?” she questions eagerly, pointing her sticky hands at the plate to show off the selection of triangles.
“sweets,” you interject just as nanami turns on his heel to walk in the other direction, “how about we finish up eating our dinner, and we can save some for your daddy tomorrow...”
“nooo!” she whines far too loudly, which forces nanami to stop dead in his tracks. he glances over his shoulder to see her puffing out her bottom lip with disappointment, “you said...you said we make it so we eat together!”
she’s only six.
she can’t perceive that her father is struggling to hold himself together. deep down inside nanami knows that, but it isn’t enough to keep his cool. he doesn’t know why his daughter’s insistence causes him to pinch the front of his brows with annoyance or why he shoots a frustrated look in her direction.
he doesn’t know why he’s suddenly picturing shoko calling the student’s parents to deliver the news that the man who was supposed to protect their child was unsuccessful in his duty.
he doesn’t know why he feels at fault for everything that happened, even though the circumstances of the events were completely out of his control.
he doesn’t know why he’s imagining himself on the receiving end of a very similar call, or why he can’t stop picturing his precious daughter on that table instead…
all of this pummels into him, and the monster emerges out from it’s cave.
“be quiet and stop making such a fuss.”
his voice comes out sharper than expected, and the expulsion of his frustration allows him to see the crystal clear picture before him.
the room is dead silent.
your face is in full shock at the hissing tone of your sweet husband snapping at his darling baby girl who he only ever speaks to with a gentle voice.
what truly unravels nanami is the look that his daughter is giving him - her angelic features are sullen, but her eyes remain wide with surprise. her bottom lip is slack, and the only sound he can hear is her uneasy breathing. her eyes, the most beautiful gems in existence, twinkle as tears begin to form and she tries to quickly blink them away before turning her attention back to her plate.
nanami doesn’t know he managed to stop time itself but the three of you remain frozen in place.
he regrets his words immediately.
he wants nothing more than to pull his precious girl close into his chest and smother her with apologies. the part of him with sense tells him to follow through and make things right with her, but instead he begrudgingly continues to wallow in his own self pity as he walks over to his room.
･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･
the house is unusually quiet now, the music of domestic joy morphing into hushed murmurs and whispers outside your room door. you settle your crestfallen daughter into her bedroom before moving to check on your husband next.
fresh out of the shower, nanami is seated on the edge of the bed with his exhausted eyes pressed firmly into the palms of his hands. he exhales a heavy breath, his dirty work clothes still piled just outside the bathroom, and your heart nearly collapses seeing him in such a state of disarray.
you kneel before him, two hands sliding across the soft material of his sweats as you brush them along his thighs before carefully bringing them up to circle around his wrists.
“kento?”
he allows you to pull his palms away but your throat constricts when a band forms tightly around your neck. you swallow the lump with an upturn of your brows as you are greeted with red, exhausted eyes. you cup that handsome face in your hands, your thumbs sweetly motioning back and forth across his cheeks as you try to soothe the tension away.
after all this time together, it hurts you to see that he still tries to hide his tears. nanami constantly holds himself to the highest standard, always ensuring that he can solidify himself as the rock for you and your daughter to depend on through thick and thin. it’s so rare for you to see him crack, to watch him crumble under the overbearing weight of the things that he is burdened to carry.
“you had a rough night,” you point out in a low, sympathetic voice and he simply just nods his head in acknowledgement.
his eyes flutter close again when you lean forward to press a tender, reassuring kiss on his brow. “you want a talk about it?”
the way his voice shakes makes you shiver, but you tentatively listen as he relays the events of the night before finally concluding that satoru called him only a few minutes ago to reassure him that the student in question is alright.
“he lost an eye, but at least he’s alive...” he concludes somberly, the warble in his final statement prompting you to wrap your arms around his neck as you pull him in for a protective hug.
nanami receives it with gratitude, strong arms circling around your waist as he buries his nose into the crook of your shoulder and breathes in.
your scent is a reminder of his permanent sanctuary.
a safety, a reassurance of home.
you stroke his blonde locks between your fingers until he exhales, "i'm so sorry," he breathes, "I...I didn't mean to snap like that..."
a tiny smile tugs at the corners of your lips, and you unravel yourself to cup his jaw into your palms once again. "I appreciate the apology, but I don't think I should be on the receiving end of it..." you hint sweetly.
nanami closes his eyes guiltily. "I'm a horrible father."
you click your tongue with disappointment, your face falling as your disapproval pinches between the space of your brows.
"you're just human," you remind him defensively, "you're a wonderful father, the best man that our daughter can look up to"
"did you see the look on her face?" he replies, his voice unnaturally small. the tender expression he gives you is filled with regret, and it's enough to make your heart ache all over again.
"kento," you contend, "don't do this to yourself. we're both going to have days where we mess up, but that doesn't mean that the problem can't be fixed."
you thread his hair between your fingers, like your brushing through rays sunlight. "she's waiting for me to read her a bedtime story," you explain, "but I'm sure she would rather be with you instead..."
"I doubt that," your husband replies as he reaches for your hand to kiss the inside of your palm.
"we will always love you, kento," you answer back, "unconditionally. on your good days and your bad ones"
he didn't even know how desperately he needed to hear that, for your certainty to remedy away all his sorrows, until they actually left your lips.
your husband's throat tightens, tears pricking his eyes once more but he hides them away when he leans in to seek out a kiss from the woman whose heart he deeply adores.
･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･
nanami leans his shoulder against the frame of his daughter's room. his heart patters lightly, making him realize that he might actually be nervous. it's strange, he thinks, that he would feel hesitant to approach his own child considering that he was her guardian but nanami had never allowed his professional life to fracture into his personal one like this before.
she's seated on the floor next to a pile of books and her stuffed rabbit secured tightly underneath her arm. there's a warmth in his chest when when he makes note of the soft toy, because he purchased that himself the day she was born and the pair have been inseparable ever since.
he clears his throat, bringing his scuffed knuckles to gently knock on the door.
"my love?" he calls out to her.
his daughter perks up, her breathing changing slightly as it rises and falls with a hint of apprehension. she glances over her shoulder to see him.
"where's mama?" she asks, her question shattering the man into a million pieces at her subtle dismissal.
"taking a shower," he answers cooly, "but I'm here to get you ready for bed..."
her lovely eyes refuse to lock into his own, and she simply tucks her lip between her bottom teeth to avoid giving nanami a reply.
she looks so much like him when he was a child. he remembered when his parents used to scold him too, and how he would also hide away in his room. the only difference is that nanami's parents were far more traditional - a time where elders were never submissive to young hearts.
"may I come in?" he requests politely, ensuring that his daughter knew she had a choice if she wanted to speak to him.
her nostrils flare slightly while she considers him, but to his relief she nods her head eagerly.
nanami steps into her room, always feeling largely out of place amongst her things. "did you find a story for bed?" he asks.
she again quietly nods her head and picks up her favorite book; a compilation of japanese folktales with beautiful illustrations. you both have been reading one for her each night ever since she got it it as a present from her grandparents.
he crouches on his knees to meet her at eye level. "you've really been enjoying this one, haven't you?" he carries on, hoping to coax more words out of her.
“yeah,” she replies in the same mousy voice of uncertainty. she shifts her attention away when she stands on her feet, clutching onto the stuffed bunny tightly while her other hand swings the book by her side.
“and what tale are we reading tonight?”
she shrugs her shoulders with indifference, a hint of pink blushing her cheek. “I dunno. I…I can just until mama is ready…”
nanami visibly slumps. her rejection an entirely new painful experience that he's never endured before. he scratches the back of his head anxiously, finding himself at a loss for words. the seconds pass, an awkward bubble surrounding both father and daughter. it’s only broken when nanami exhales a sigh, and reaches his hands towards her waist to draw her into his frame.
“darling,” he addresses tenderly, “can you look at me?”
“no, you were mean…” she blurts out, her bottom lip trembling slightly.
nanami’s heart sinks.
that’s the first time he’s ever heard those words from her lips.
“I know,” he murmurs shamefully.
her mouth forms into a tiny button of a pout but she meets his eyes for the first time as he acknowledges his behavior.
nanami arches forward to kiss her forehead, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that, sweetheart. I’m so sorry if I upset or scared you”
she fidgets with the book in her hand. “did you not want onigiri?” she asks, her innocence tugging the corners of her father’s lips into a small grin.
“it wasn’t the onigiri, my love,” he reassures, “daddy just…had a bad day at work…”
“why was it bad?”
nanami sighs once again.
she still doesn’t know that he’s a sorcerer. you’ve both reduced his position to her by simply explaining that nanami “helps and protects people".
thankfully your daughter doesn’t pry too hard to ask any further questions.
“someone I know got hurt. so, daddy was a little shaken up when he came home…”
"shaken up?"
"scared, my love"
his daughter shakes her head in disbelief, “nu-uh, you never get scared, papa” she rebuts.
nanami huffs out a laugh, flashing her a full grin now as he brings his fingers to his chin to to ponder her sweet statement. he quirks his brow and cheekily replies, "we can't all be brave like you," in an attempt to lighten the mood.
his daughter narrows her eyes towards his hand, her mind instantly distracted with other things already. "you got hurt too papa!" she gasps, dropping the bunny by her side to point at his knuckles.
nanami glances at his fingers covered in red marks.
"wait!" she exclaims as she places the book by his side. "I have something!"
she spins on her heel and rushes towards one of her drawers. meanwhile, nanami just takes her in with his love soaked eyes, watching as she rummages through her stuff with determination until she scurries back his way.
"got it!" she squeaks with a smile, and to his surprise she jumps right into his arms with such nonchalance it nearly make him crumble on the spot.
your voice echoes in the back of his mind: "we will always love you, kento. unconditionally. on your good days and your bad ones"
"mama bought it for me," she explains, regaining her father's attention once more.
nanami rests his cheek on her shoulder, and inhales her powdery scent as he keeps one arm warmly secured around her waist. he watches her peel off the plaster of the band aid, lbefore grabbing his hand and placing it unevenly over his knuckles.
"now a kiss!" she adds, as she brings his hand to her mouth and exaggerates a loud "mwah" sound for emphasis. "mama says the kiss is what makes it all better"
nanami instantly feels significantly better from this remedy of love. he extends his digits out, and looks at the hot pink "hello kitty" band aid that now rests comfortably on his knuckles.
"thank you, my darling," he coos and peppers her cheek with a few kisses before turning her to face him once again. "you made me feel a lot better"
she flashes him an equally large smile in return, showing off her missing teeth.
"I did?"
nanami chuckles as he scoops her up in his arms to give her a well deserved bear hug. she laughs as he stands on his two feet, and sheds away any lingering thoughts of apprehension that may have stuck.
"you always do," he reassures, his soul vibrating back to life when he feels her return his embrace. “you think you can forgive me for how I spoke earlier?”
“yeah,” she confirms and squeezes him just a little tighter. "I love you lots, papa"
"oh, my angel," he hums, "you have no idea just how much I love you too..."
･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･
after winding down from your evening pampering session, you decide to pass by your daughter's room to check on your little family. you peer through the cracked door to find nanami spread out on your daughter’s bed, with your daughter curled into side and her head resting on his chest.
“did I come from a peach too like momotarō?” you hear her ask, but your heart flutters at the sight of your husband’s pearly whites.
you’ll never get over how much you love seeing him smile with such genuine emotion.
“no,” you hear nanami reply calmly, his finger lightly holding the page open. “you remember your mother explaining how you used to live in her stomach first?”
“oh yeah,” your daughter replies with a hint of disappointment over the fact that she was not birthed from a piece of fruit as mentioned in one of her favorite folk tales.
“shall I carry on?”
“uh-huh,” she answers and she readjusts her position to get even more comfortable. "I think if we look hard enough we might find momotarō..."
"you think so?" your husband wonders with honest curiosity.
"I know so, papa!"
"how many peaches do you think we need to check?"
"hmmm," she mumbles, "maybe a million?"
"a million?" your husband dramatically replies, "that's a lot of peaches don't you think,"
"I mean, it's less than a billion..." she responds quite matter of factly.
you catch his gaze from between the door that’s ajar. his expression fully relaxes, and you smile knowingly in his direction at the sight of father and daughter making up.
“papa?” his daughter questions upon his sudden silence, but your husband keeps his focus on you as he hums in acknowledgement before replying, "you're not wrong, but it'll still be quite a challenge to cut through a million peaches..."
"we might need some help," your daughter adds on.
you blow him a secret kiss as to not interrupt further, and quietly close the door before heading back to your bedroom.
#[peach is away.💌]#[peach queues.🧡]#nanami x reader#nanami x you#nanami x female reader#nanami x ofc#nanami kento x you#nanami kento x reader#nanami kento angst#nanami angst#nanami hurt/comfort#jujutsu kaisen angst#nanami fluff#jujutsu kaisen fan fiction#jjk fluff
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Mad World
Logan Sargeant x Vowles!Reader
Summary: no matter how cruel the rest of the world may seem, Logan will always have a home with you
Logan stares blankly at James Vowles, unable to process the words coming out of his team principal’s mouth.
“I’m … I’m sorry, what?” Logan stammers, his heart pounding. This can’t be happening.
James looks immensely uncomfortable but pushes on. “Alex needs your chassis since his is too damaged and the team does not have a spare. You’ll have to withdraw from the race weekend.”
The room falls into an oppressive silence as the words sink in. Logan can feel his chance at remaining in Formula 1 next year slipping away with each agonizing second. Why is he being punished for a crash that wasn’t his fault? The questions swirl dizzily in his mind.
James regards him with remorseful eyes. “I’m sorry, Logan. There’s no other way ...”
The words hit Logan like a punch to the gut. He stares at James, numb, his mind spinning. After a long silence, he nods mutely and forces out, “I … I need a minute.” His feet move without conscious thought, carrying him blindly down the corridors as burning tears blur his vision.
Logan’s heart pounds in his chest as he rushes through the hallway, tears streaming down his face. He can barely see where he’s going as he barrels toward his driver’s room. His breaths come in ragged gasps, the weight of James’ words crushing him.
How could they do this to him? After everything?
He fumbles with the handle, finally wrenching the door open and slamming it shut behind him. Logan leans back against it, sliding down until he’s sitting on the floor. Sobs wrack his body as the reality sinks in — he’s out for the weekend because of someone else’s mistake.
It’s not fair. None of this is fair.
His career, his dreams, his entire future flashing before his eyes, slipping away because Williams can’t get their act together. Why did they even re-sign him if they have so little faith? The questions swirl in his mind, only compounded by the hurt and anger burning in his chest.
Logan stays like that for who knows how long, gasping for air between cries that feel like they’re literally tearing him apart from the inside.
He’s so consumed by emotion that he doesn’t hear the tentative knock at first. When it comes again, louder this time, he jolts slightly, raising a hand to wipe uselessly at his tear-streaked face.
With trembling fingers, he pulls open the door, and you’re standing there. The mere sight of you breaks through the haze of devastation, if only for a moment.
You step inside without a word, wrapping your arms around him, and the dam breaks again. Fresh sobs spill out as Logan crumples against your chest, clinging to you like a lifeline while you softly hush him, guiding the two of you to the couch.
You maneuver him gently until his head is cradled in your lap, your fingers combing soothingly through his hair. “I came as soon as I heard,” you murmur, voice thick with shared pain. “I can’t believe they would do this to you because of their own mistakes. It’s not right.”
Logan tries to speak, to voice the turmoil inside him, but all that comes out is a strangled, “Why? I don’t … I don’t understand. It’s not my fault, so why am I being punished?” His words dissolve into hiccuping gasps. “They must not have faith in me at all. This … this is it, isn’t it? The end.”
You shush him again, cupping his face to brush the tears away with your thumbs. “Don’t think like that. The team is the one in the wrong here, not you.”
But the storm won’t be quelled so easily. Logan sits up abruptly, putting distance between you despite how his heart aches at the loss of your touch. “But soon I won’t even be a driver anymore,” he chokes out, meeting your eyes with his own reddened, devastated gaze. “You shouldn’t … you deserve so much better than me, Y/N. Better than someone whose career is over before it even started.”
“Logan Sargeant, don’t you dare say that.” You’re on your feet in an instant, hands on your hips in a stance he knows all too well — the fierce protectiveness that still makes his heart flutter, even now. “I am with you because I love you, every amazing, incredible part of you. Not because you’re an F1 driver, but because of the person you are.”
He can only gape at you, stunned into silence by the intensity of your words, the unwavering certainty in your tone. You step closer, cupping his face again, making him meet the blazing love and conviction in your eyes.
“I don’t care if you never race again, though you know I believe in you with everything I have. I’m not going anywhere, do you understand me? We’re in this together, always, no matter what.” You press your lips to his brow, his cheeks, finally claiming his mouth in a searing kiss that leaves him dizzy. “I love you,” you breathe against his lips. “I love you so much, Logan.”
He’s dumbstruck, overwhelmed by the ferocity of your devotion, even in the face of his lowest moment. How did he get so lucky as to have you in his life? In a heartbeat, Logan is kissing you again, tears of a different kind streaking his cheeks as he murmurs the words over and over. “I love you, I love you, I love you ...”
Eventually, you guide him back until he’s lying down on the couch once more, placing a small pillow under his head. “Get some rest, babe. You’ve been through the ringer today.”
He catches your hand before you can move away fully. “Where are you going?”
The fiery look in your eye makes his stomach flip. “I need to go have a … conversation … with my father.”
Logan lets out a teary laugh at your protective fierceness — one of the many things he loves most about you. “Yes ma’am.”
Leaning down, you brush one last lingering kiss to his forehead. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
As you turn and head for the door, Logan feels his heart swell watching your receding form. For all the hurt today has brought, he knows more than ever that he’s the luckiest man in the world to have you by his side.
As Logan drifts into an exhausted doze, his last conscious thoughts are of you — his forever, his everything — and how lucky he is to have such an amazing love in his life.
No matter what happens next.
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#logan sargeant#ls2#logan sargeant imagine#logan sargeant x reader#logan sargeant x you#logan sargeant fic#logan sargeant fluff#logan sargeant fanfiction#logan sargeant blurb#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#logan sargeant x y/n#williams racing#aus gp 2024#australian gp 2024#williams f1
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Sex with Simon is intense.
Physically, emotionally, sensationally intense. Simon handles you like he would a prized rifle, tracing his fingers across your grooves and indentations. His warm breath fogs across your spine, his hands guiding you into position so he can squeeze the trigger to your desire. He knows your body like he knows the fractured web of scars across his skin. He’s taken ages to find the parts of you that will make you whimper in utter overwhelm into the mattress, will make your thighs shake with the force of your climax. He disassembles you over and over and over again, only to put you back together better than you were.
Simon is focused, completely involved in the process of defiling you- like he can’t get enough of the taste. When you first began sleeping together it was a rushed, sloppy affair. You’d catch each other after missions, in the evenings after training, getting back to the barracks after being out at the pub. Hurried hands and clashing lips, stripping each other with little regard for where the clothes landed, too eager to feel skin against skin. That had been when you were less than you were now, simply using each other to shake the anger and the fear of the world you lived in.
When things became softer, when you had cried into his arms and confessed you needed him, things changed. Simon eased at the sharp edges of him, allowed you to dip your fingers into the shallow end of his vulnerabilities while he kept himself still guarded under the surface. Each kiss, each breath, each roll of his hips against yours allowed you to drag him an inch closer to you, to sink yourself and drown in the depths of his scarcely concealed emotions for you.
Yet there’s always an ounce of control that remains in his touch, as if he refuses to allow you into the shadows with him. It comes in the way his voice purrs down at you darkly, the hand on your hip dragging you upward to him with firm insistence. It comes in the way of him hushing you through a hiccuping orgasm where your body finally reaches the extent of its endurance. Simon is a force, domineering and insistent, forcing you to bend to the gale of him like a sapling in a storm. Yet his lips trace gently over the shell of your ear, whisper filthy, torrid praises there until your cry of pleasure muffles his voice.
He handles you the way he wants, forces you to buckle onto your front as he drapes himself across your spine with his thick and heavy weight. He growls down at you when you try to hurry him on, low in warning, and then coos at your glassy, lidded eyes. He holds your hand as he sets himself to devouring your slick folds, and you clutch at him as you buck and writhe because it’s so good. He dangles your orgasms out of reach until you beg, teary eyed and desperate, only to force you over the zenith with such power it snaps the synapses in your brain. His hand catches your face when you try to turn shyly from his chuckling, dark taunts of your reedy moans and breathless please. He sucks dark bruises just below your collar with a hiss of “Mine.” that would scare you with its possessiveness had you not entrusted yourself to him long ago.
You’re his. Completely. You didn’t know when you first met, and even then he refused to admit to himself what you were to him. Now, with every rumbling moan and dirty words whispered against your skin, you have no possibility of denying it. You’ve tangled the fibers of his soul in your fingers, tug on them so he falls into you. He doesn’t try to catch himself, merely wraps his arms around you and drags you to him with fervent, dizzying kisses that leave you breathless and reeling. Simon shapes you to him in the way you both need, and after every time you spend in his bed you feel the weight of his need for you in the sated sluggishness of your limbs, blissfully tucking yourself into his side. He turns your limp form to him, cups your chin to kiss you gently, hums a note of pride there in the hazy, dreamy stare you offer him.
“Mine.” He whispers, as if to remind himself, and descends to your lips once more. You don’t need to be reminded. For you there’s only Simon. Even before you two touched for the first time, there’s never been anyone else. You’re his.
#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley x you#simon riley smut#drabbles#This was written with Fix in mind but honestly?#anything goes
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Back in my Arms
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader
Word Count: 1,173
Summary: Your relationship with Bucky is still new and even though the feelings are deep it's hard to put a label on it but when something goes wrong while he's out on a mission you realize just how much he means to you.
Author's Note: Because who wouldn't miss Bucky and worry about him when he's out saving the world? Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰
Warnings: some worry and angst to start, soft and sweet fluff that turns to sexy times quick, semi-public se-x sorta :D
The loud ringing of your phone startles you from sleep and you sit up with a jolt. Searching the night table with a sweep of your hand you knock several things off but finally wrap your fingers around your phone.
“Hello,” you grumble sleepily.
“You were asleep.”
Your best friend’s uneasy voice comes through in a whisper and your heart starts to thump harder against your ribcage.
“What’s wrong?” you ask.
“Babe…”
You sit up straighter and throw the covers off. “What?”
“They aren’t giving us any details but I just saw the news…”
“What?” you repeat and press your hand to your chest.
“It looks like the team is back but something went wrong.”
“Did you hear anything about Bucky?”
Your voice is shaky as you frantically search your room for clothes.
“No names but…”
“Oh my god.”
“I’m sure he’s fine babe,” she assures you even as her voice waivers. “But don’t turn on the TV or look at anything on your phone. Did he call?”
You slowly pull the phone away from your ear and check your messages.
Nothing.
You look at your missed calls and voicemail.
Still nothing.
When you hear your friend calling your name you place the phone back to your ear and whisper, “nothing.”
“It’s Bucky…he’s fine.”
“Okay. He has to be fine. I mean…technically I’m not his girlfriend. I can’t just rush over there and check on him, can I?”
“What you meant to say is, ‘you’re not his girlfriend yet,’ and who’s going to stop you?”
You nod as you start to pull on some clothes.
“I have to go. I’ll call you soon.”
With a few more reassuring words your best friend hangs up and you rush into the bathroom to make yourself presentable and then throw on Bucky’s Henley. The one you maybe forgot to return before he left for the mission.
Trying your best not to picture the worst in your head you run out of your apartment building and hail wildly for a cab.
Once inside your feet bounce along the floor and your hands are clasped tightly together in your lap as you silently will the driver to go faster.
When the cab pulls up to the tower you throw money into the front seat with a stilted ‘thank you’ and will yourself to take steady breaths.
Friday greets you and lets you in, directing you to the med bay on the lower floor.
Heart in your throat you creep out of the elevator and look left and right. It’s quiet. Almost too quiet and you step out.
“Doll?”
You whirl around at the sound of Bucky’s voice.
He’s standing there in his dark jeans that are painted on, his soft shirt rolled up to the elbows and his leather jacket thrown over his shoulder. The fluorescent lighting gleams off his metal arm and you hear his fingers tighten into a fist.
“Oh good,” you whisper as his image blurs. “You’re okay.”
You try not to sniffle and keep your hands at your sides.
“I heard there was some trouble, so I…I figured I would come and check on you. And the rest of the team.”
“You came to check on me?”
His raspy voice sends a tremble down your spine.
“Yes.”
He takes a step closer.
“Is that my shirt doll face?”
“Oh…,” you grab the hem and finger the soft material.
“Doll…please. Please come here.��
You back up a step, hitting the elevator door. “I…I was so worried.”
His swallow is audible and you watch the muscles in his neck shift.
“I would have called but my phone is busted and I had to make sure Sam was ok.”
“Is Sam ok?” you ask, suddenly breathless again.
“Thankfully he’s going to be fine. Just needs some time.”
You nod and let out a shaky breath. He approaches slowly, dropping his jacket to the floor and holding his arms out for you.
“Doll…please. Come here. Let me kiss you. It’s all I’ve wanted to do for the past three weeks.”
Your whispered “okay,” can barely be heard above your breathing but the second he’s close enough you launch yourself into his arms.
He wraps you up tightly, your slight shakes making him coo softly in your ear as he smooths his hands along your back and kisses your head.
“Oh doll,” he whispers. “I’m fine. I’m right here.”
Your face presses into his chest and you inhale.
When his hand slides higher and wraps around the back of your neck he brings your eyes to his, their gaze falling to your mouth before he closes the distance, crashing his lips to yours.
Your broken moan makes him press you impossibly closer, needing to feel all of you.
He growls your name and takes two steps backward, pinning you against the wall. His lips trail down your neck and then back up until they meet your earlobe.
“I can’t fuck you here doll. But if we don’t stop that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“I need you now,” you plead, dragging your fingers through his hair. “Now Bucky. Please. I can’t wait.”
You’ve barely got the words out when he lifts you into his arms and starts to move down the hallway. You pull on his shirt and wrap your legs around his waist, rocking your hips against his.
His hand reaches out to feel for a doorknob and he kicks open the door to an old med room. You slide down his body and onto the floor as he reaches behind him to turn the lock.
Your fingers slip under his shirt and you run your fingernails over his abs as he walks you backward toward the wall.
“Take his off. Please. I need to feel you.”
“That’s my line doll,” he murmurs.
The urgency in your touch is nearly his undoing and between kisses he fumbles with your leggings, groaning when he slips his hand between your legs and feels the soaked fabric of your panties.
With a rip they float to the floor and he spreads your legs apart with his knee. You push his pants down and free him, taking him in your hand and guiding him closer.
He stills, trying to focus on his breathing and garner some semblance of control.
“Rough Bucky. I want it hard and rough.”
There goes any chance he had of holding onto control.
He fills you in one swift stroke and you bite back a scream, moaning into his hand when he covers your mouth.
“I thought about you the whole fucking time we were gone. I never stopped.”
He drops his hand to hear you whine his name in response and he slows the movement of his hips.
“Tell me you missed me,” he groans.
You inhale and curl your fingers into his skin.
“I missed you.”
He grabs your ass and lifts you higher, angling your hips so he can go deeper.
“Say it again,” he demands.
“Missed you Bucky. I missed you so much.”
@hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @lizette50 @kmc1989 @goldylions @littleseasiren @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes imagine#bucky x reader#bucky#sebastian stan#sebastian stan x reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
lavender roses
luke castellan x reader — percy jackson and the olympians
[fem!daughter of persephone reader]
summary: everyone thinks red roses are synonymous with the perfect love. you believe that lavender roses deserve more love, and luke believes that you’re worthy of all the love in the world—you’re both just bad at communicating it.
warnings: kissing, swearing, suggestive content, mentions of weapons, idiots, miscommunication trope but it’s cute dw, seriously they’re both so stupid and oblivious, besties to idiots to lovers
word count: 3.3k
(y’all i’m losing my mind i can’t stop writing but this might be one of my favourites ever)
(also i might put together a luke taglist and a clarisse taglist so lmk if you wanna be put on either of those and i’ll get to work on it 🤩)
———————————————
“i’m free february fourteenth,” you said nonchalantly.
you were sitting with luke at dinner and he’d just asked you if you ever had a day off working. as a daughter of persephone, you lived in the hermes cabin, but spent most of your time working in the strawberry fields. you spent every free moment there, soaking in the sun, helping the plants grow and picking flowers to put in vases around the cabin and infirmary.
he nodded as chris choked on his food beside him, coughing hard. “okay, we should hang out then.”
you weren’t sure if he knew what was going on. was he messing with you? playing a joke? really wanting to hang out with you on valentine’s day? or was he having a lapse of memory and he forgot that day had any significance at all?
either way, you nodded. when you spoke, your voice was slightly higher pitched than usual. “sure.”
“we can have a picnic. we haven’t done that in a while.” he was nodding still, looking into his food with a thoughtful expression.
the air nearly left your lungs. you nodded back, though he wasn’t looking at you, and exchanged a wide-eyed look with chris across the table. sure, you and luke used to go for picnics occasionally, but that was before he’d gotten unfairly attractive overnight and you’d developed the most annoying crush on him. “yeah, sure. it’s a date.”
if you could have jumped into tartarus you would have.
what the fuck. why would you say that?
chris was staring at you in shock.
your mouth was dry.
and luke was smiling like nothing was wrong. were his cheeks red? or was that your imagination? “yup! it’s a date.”
when he got up from the table to leave after dinner, he kissed your cheek. this wasn’t too far out of the ordinary, per se—it happened occasionally—but it sent a rush of adrenaline shooting down your spine and set your cheeks aflame.
chris’ eyebrows were raised. “what was that?”
“i have no idea,” you breathed.
“do you think he knows?”
your voice was even softer as you shook your head. “dude. i have no idea.”
valentine’s day couldn’t come soon enough.
you could hardly think of anything else. zoning out in the fields, losing focus while sparring, getting distracted by luke’s shoulder muscles while he was drawing back his bow, sending your arrow flying off to the side.
he laughed at you with everyone else, coming over to stand by your side. “you good there? need any help?”
you shook your head, your quaking fingers drawing the string back once more, pulling it taut. archery wasn’t your best skill, but you weren’t terrible at it.
you could feel his eyes on you, judging your form, analysing your aim. it put you off.
your arrow barely hit the target.
luke winced. “that was… better.”
you sighed and lowered the bow. “you’re distracting me!”
he laughed. “i’m distracting you?”
“yes!” you huffed, frowning at him. his eyes were lit up with amusement. “you are.”
“well, then i’m very sorry.” he raised his hands and took a step back, dipping his head too. “as you were, milady.”
you rolled your eyes with a smile and drew your arrow back, aiming and firing, but it still didn’t do well. in fact, every arrow that you shot pierced outside of the black rings. you were starting to think there was either something wrong with the bow or that you’d been cursed by one of the apollo kids, when someone’s hand lowered your elbow.
you looked over to see luke. he wasn’t watching your face. he was guiding your elbow down so it was more level with your arrow’s line and gently pulling your shoulders back so they were more even.
“pull back a bit more,” he coached quietly.
“i know what i’m doing,” you protested.
“i know, but today you look like you need a reminder. do you want my help? or do you wanna keep missing?” he finally looked you in the eye. he was sincere, you realised.
you sighed and draw the arrow back a little more.
he nodded happily and continued guiding your stance until you were perfect, his hands hot on your body and his breath on the back of your neck. he stayed behind you as you lowered the arrow and took a few deep breaths.
you were still watching him over your shoulder. his lips quirked as he reached out and gently turned your face away to look at the target. his hand was calloused and rough, but the tough was soft. you could barely breathe.
“focus,” he said softly. “eyes on the prize.”
you’re the only prize i want, was all you could think, but you didn’t say anything. you drew the arrow back, your fingers brushing against the corner of your lips. you felt better—more powerful, more confident—in this stance. and maybe luke’s presence behind you was helping with that too. you could feel the slight ghost of his hand on your waist. it kept you grounded. it stopped you from floating away.
your arrow pierced just beside the bullseye.
luke’s hand tightened on your waist, squeezing proudly. “that’s my girl.”
your heart fluttered as you smiled. “thanks, luke.”
he patted your lower back as he stepped away. “that’s what i’m here for. go kill it.”
then he was gone, and there was a fiery pit in your stomach that grew with each passing day that told you that—oh shit—you were in fully love with luke castellan.
february fourteenth arrived in a flurry of pinks, reds and whites. hearts adorned the camp, courtesy of the aphrodite cabin, and you and the demeter cabin had been tasked with growing what felt like hundreds of red roses. personally, you didn’t understand the hype surrounding red roses. after all, the lavender ones were the prettiest. they even meant love at first sight—far better than plain old love.
but with all the love in the air and the aphrodite campers swooning left and right, luke was sure to figure out his mistake and call off the picnic. it made you feel sick with anxiety, and your hands shook as you tended to the roses.
“y/n, hey!” luke’s voice came right next to you.
you flinched and the rose bush sprouted ten feet in the air with new flowers springing into existence left and right.
“whoa…” he said, looking up at it in shock. “i don’t think we need that many.”
“i don’t think anyone needs that many.” you muttered and took a deep breath, bringing the bush back down to size. “what are you doing here, luke?” your heart was in your throat. he didn’t look upset, but he’d always been good at hiding his emotions. was he about to tell you that he didn’t want to meet up later? or that he hated you for tricking him? thoughts started spinning like tops in your mind as you sunk into worse scenario after worse scenario.
“i just wanted to make sure we were still on for this afternoon? and to let you know to meet me by the lake.” were you imagining things, or did he look almost… nervous? his cheeks were red and he wasn’t meeting your eyes for more than a few seconds at a time. was he? really?
you nodded. “oh, uh, yeah. we’re still on. i’ll meet you…?”
“at two?”
“at two.” you smiled. he smiled back and you ignored the flutter in your chest. a strand of hair blew in front of your face.
his hand twitched by his side, like he wanted to push it back, but he just nodded. “okay. see you later.”
“later,” you nodded as he walked away. “can’t wait!” you called after him. he shot a grin over his shoulder, and once he was gone, you buried your face in the rose bush with an exasperated groan.
at 1:45, you still didn’t know what to wear.
your friend becky had dragged you into the aphrodite cabin and was shoving various outfits into your arms to try on, since you didn’t have many nice outfits of your own, but nothing was right.
even though you were the same size as her, nothing seemed to fit you as well as it did her—some aphrodite’s daughter bullshit, you guessed.
she sat down on her bunk next to you and sighed. “i hate to say it, but… we’re out of options.”
you groaned and flopped backwards, covering your face.
she swatted your hands away. “you’ll smudge your makeup!” she then sat back and sighed. “honestly, hun, you might just have to go naked.”
“i’m sure he’d love that!” one of her brothers called from across the room.
you threw a pillow at him, but it dropped halfway there.
then becky froze with a gasp. “oh, my gods.”
you sat up. “what?”
“wait here.” she got up and dashed away, peering into the depths of her wardrobe.
you watched absently, kind of worried she’d pull out some sexy lingerie, as she felt around at the very back, in the corner. then her face lit up. she pulled out a dress. it was white and floaty, with tiny pale pink flowers on it and the most flattering neckline you’d ever seen. she held it out to you and then dragged you to the designated changing area beside her bunk.
you changed slowly, not wanting to rip the delicate material, then looked at yourself in the mirror.
holy shit.
becky stuck her head around the corner and gasped. “perfect! ugh, i feel like a proud mother.”
you laughed, smoothing the floaty fabric over your thighs. it was kind of staticky. “yeah, thanks, mom.”
she grabbed your arm and dragged you out, showing you off. “siblings! my magnum opus.”
as whistles and cheers came from the few people in the cabin, you smiled.
“he’ll love it,” becky whispered. “you look hot.”
“it’s not even a date,” you protested. “it’s just a hang out.”
“sweet cheeks, its a picnic on valentine’s day.” she tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder. “it’s a date. now go. you’re gonna be late.”
you slipped on your white sandals and the light green jacket you always wore, let silena slip a white headband into your hair, then stepped out the door.
it wasn’t a cold day, exactly, but you were grateful for the jacket.
you rushed down the lake and got there two minutes late.
luke was no where to be found.
great, you thought. he was messing with me the whole time.
just as you were considering leaving, you heard footsteps running up to you.
“y/n! i’m so sorry, i could figure out—oh, wow...” luke stopped in his tracks as you turned around. his eyes were wide and his cheeks were red as he looked you up and down. he cleared his throat. “i didn’t know what to wear.”
he’d settled on a navy blue crew neck sweater and black jeans. his hair was messy, like he’d been running his hands through it, and he looked good. really good.
shit. that would make things more difficult.
“it’s okay,” you smiled. “neither could i.”
“well, you look… you look amazing.” his voice was soft, almost reverent.
gods, you didn’t think you’d ever be able to stop blushing. this was torture. “thanks,” you said though, pretending your heart wasn’t climbing up your throat and threatening to jump right into his hands—like suicide. “should we—“
“oh! yeah.” he nodded and stepped forward, placing a hand on your back (just low enough that it made your heart stutter, but high enough that it was innocent) and leading you towards the strawberry fields. “this way, milady.”
your heart was sinking a little as the fields came into view. everyone went to the strawberry fields. there were at least seven couples there already. it was the standard date spot. you had to remind yourself this wasn’t a date.
but he led you past the fields and into the forest.
great, so he’ll just murder me instead, you thought bitterly. it was like you were searching for a reason that it wasn’t a date now. at least i won’t have to deal with the embarrassment of everyone seeing.
you snapped out of your thoughts as his hand gently slipped into yours and you nearly fell over. he looked back at you, amused. you shot him a thumbs up as he set down a familiar path.
you knew where you were going.
there was a clearing in the woods where you went. it was you own personal secret garden, hidden deep in the forest behind a thick hedge that you’d grown yourself. it had taken weeks to get it thick enough to keep your space safe, and weeks again to regain enough strength to add any other plants to it. in the last year though, you’d been going there often, coaxing a few new plants to grow. you’d learned that forcing growth was hard and near impossible, but encouraging growth was easy.
you’d shown luke the garden one day a few months ago, just before you developed that pesky crush.
he pulled you gently in front of him to enter the garden first, through a magically shifting gap in the hedge, so that he could enter too, and stepped aside to pick up a hefty bag hidden just off the path.
you stepped through the hedge, your hand still linked with luke’s, and into your garden. it was the same as last time you were there, around a week ago; filled with flowers and bees, with a patch of clear grass in the middle, linked to the hedge by four paths, running north to south and east to west. some of the flowers growing were out of season, but as a daughter of persephone, you had a certain level of influence over things like that. bees buzzed lazily around your head as you entered, happy to see you again. everything seemed to get happier, healthier and brighter the second you stepped into the garden. it was your favourite thing and your favourite place.
you looked back at luke to see him smiling at you. “you know me too well.”
“i knew you wouldn’t like to have everyone around,” he shrugged. “and i wanted to see this place again. it’s better than last time i was here.” he looked around in wonder.
“well, last time you were here, i’d just gotten over the flu, so i was still pretty weak. all of my hydrangeas wilted.” you pouted and crossed the garden to your hydrangea bush, blooming in all ranges of colours. soil acidity and pH didn’t matter if you were the daughter of persephone.
luke laid down a plaid picnic blanket as you murmured a few words to some of your weaker looking plants, breathing life back into them. you could feel his eyes on you as he sat and waited, but you didn’t feel rushed or observed. more than anything, you felt admired.
finally, you sat next to him. he’d set out some food and water bottles for the two of you. he was prepared. that was one thing about luke castellan: he was prepared, always two steps ahead. which is why this didn’t make sense.
as you started eating, you found yourself staring at a lavender rose bush. love at first sight, you mused. if only.
you’d fallen for luke after a whole year of friendship. that made it worse. you’d loved him already, platonically, then, without warning, those feeling shifted. the way you looked at him changed in a matter of moments. when he’d gotten cherries on his plate for dessert after you were told you couldn’t have more, then he’d given them all to you, claiming he didn’t like them (even though you knew he did), you fell stupidly, irrevocably, in love. but the way he looked at you never changed: always soft, always kind and always the same.
you were drawn to look at him. you always were. the sharp lines and soft curves of his face. those dark eyes that made your heart flutter never wavered as they met yours. never shifted, never darkened, never clouded with anger. never. they were as constant as time, as reliable as the tide, as predictable as the full moon coming around again.
and he was looking at you now. “what?” he asked.
you blinked and looked away, watching as two bees clumsily bumped into each other and went on their way. “nothing.” would that be you and luke? two bees bumping into each other briefly, then going on with their lives? unlikely to cross paths again? you couldn’t let that happen.
“you know it’s valentine’s, right?” you asked before you could stop yourself.
luke lowered his apple, resting his hand on his knee. his forehead was creased in a confused frown. “yeah, why?”
“well… then why… why are we hanging out today? i mean, this isn’t a date.” you paused. “is it?”
his eyes widened. “wait, you don’t think—“
“it’s fine, luke.” you shrugged, pretending your heart wasn’t crumbling. “it’s my fault. i shouldn’t have brought up valentines. it was a silly joke, and—“
“a joke?” he frowned again. “this isn’t a joke.”
you looked at him. he looked earnest. “what?”
“it’s not a joke. why would i joke about going on a date with you?” he swallowed tightly and put his apple down. “did you… did you just think it was a joke?”
“no! well, yes. but i didn’t want it to be.” you exclaimed. “did… you want it to be?”
“no!” he exclaimed, turning to face you. “why would i want that? i thought we’ve been dating for three weeks now!”
“you, what?”
he took a deep breath. “you’re telling me that i’ve been assuming we’re dating for three weeks, and you’ve been assuming i’ve been joking for three weeks, because we’re both a little bit fucking stupid and can’t communicate our feelings properly?”
you stared at him, wiping your sweaty palms on your dress. the static crackled like the tension in the air. “i guess so.”
“huh.” he said, turning back to face the flowers. he was silent for a moment and you almost thought he’d leave, but then he started laughing.
“stop laughing,” you protested, pushing him lightly, your cheeks flaming hot. “stop it.”
he didn’t.
soon, you weren’t able to stop yourself from giggling, then you were both laughing uncontrollably. your stomach hurt and you had to lean on each other to avoid falling over. your faces were close—too close. your laughter died as you felt his breath on your face. his fingers brushed your hair behind your ear. his breath hitched as he did, like he’d been waiting to do that for months.
“i’ve liked you for months,” you whispered.
“i’ve liked you since the moment we met,” he cupped your face in his hand, his other one resting on your knee.
you could see the lavender roses behind him. love at first sight.
the two bees that had bumped into each other settled on the same flower.
fucking hell.
you kissed him before you could talk yourself out of it.
the kiss wasn’t like fireworks. it was more like the first flowers of spring: fresh, exciting and pure. his lips were soft. yours were probably rougher than his from your long hours in the fields. you figured he didn’t care, because he kissed you like you were the only air he needed to breath for the rest of his life. you could feel flowers blooming around the picnic blanket—daisies and dandelions in the grass. the plants in the gardens were going wild. he was like a drug; some kind of amplifier for your powers and your heart rate and gods, you never wanted to let him go. his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer against him. your hand rose to his cheek and static electricity jumped from your skin to his.
he pulled away with a gasp, his hand on his cheek. then he laughed, and kissed you again.
and again.
and again.
and again.
and you were infinitely glad for the privacy of your own secret garden.
#luke castellan#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan x you#percy jackson#percy jackon and the olympians#pjo#pjo tv show#pjo x reader#charlie bushnell
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
18+ only. / camping tent sex with jungwon
it was much chillier at night, a gentle sprinkle hitting the plastic lining of your camp tent. a few days ago jungwon urged you to come along the camping trip with him and his other friends, telling you how much you needed a break from studying all the time. with much effort he convinced you to tag along, promising you how he would take care of you the entire time, despite your worries because you’ve never been camping before.
the group was divided into six different tents in a small camping ground just nearby the forrest, you and jungwon were luckily able to get your own. the space was extremely tight, no extra room for anything but two bodies and a small side table for a lamp and belongings.
the day was a very long one. you had no problem with nature, in the sense that flowers are pretty and sure maybe you’d dip your feet into a pond every once in awhile but in a boy’s world, camping was a whole different thing of it’s own. for the most part, you stayed by jungwon’s side to which he was kindly receptive about. he was extraordinarily cute out in the wild, with his gear and backpack, throwing his head back to laugh every time one of his friends cracked a joke. it was fun observing just how men acted around each other, something you couldn’t handle for any longer than a week even if you were paid to. but jungwon was having the time of his life, and you enjoyed just being there with him. however, you felt like you didn’t contribute much, feeling a bit like a burden as you didn’t do anything but stand beside him. was it also wrong of you to slightly miss him? sure he was next to you all day, but not being able to talk a lot even with his presence made it harder.
with that last thought, the tiredness from the day finally took over and you were seconds away from sleep, before jungwon’s body scooted closer towards you. too exhausted to do anything about it, you kept your eyes closed and in response he pressed his body against yours, wrapping his arm around your waist in the sleeping bag you both shared.
“mmm?” he breathes out. you can feel that small smile anywhere. “my baby’s asleep isn’t she?”
you feel the tip of his nose rub your cheek, before his lips pressed gentle kisses on your chin. finally, some undivided attention from him.
“you’re not upset are you baby? i noticed you were a bit quiet before settling in to sleep. i missed you so much too, you know.” his arm wrapped around your abdomen shifts so that his hand can touch you a bit more. his fingers ghost right under your sleep shirt, and you question if the chill you feel is from his touch or the sudden rush of wind on the outside.
he makes his presence much more apparent when he brings one leg over you, almost on top of you at this point. jungwon’s kisses grow wet and intimate, the pecks are deep and sloppy, and you hear the tiniest bit of desperation behind them.
“wanted you with me all day for a reason, ____. if you weren’t by my side i think i may have gone crazy.”
his hands dip under your shirt entirely, the callouses on his hands from today’s activites are rough on your skin. he rubs you from the sides of your waist to your navel, and gently to the underside of your breast, hesitating a bit as his breathing speeds up.
he pulls back from touching you there, before doing something that makes your breath hitch immediately. jungwon lifts himself to be completely crouched over you, both his hands pulling your shirt up to cover just your chest. you feel his face inches away from your abdomen by his breath on your skin, and he licks a stripe right at the midline. he kisses your entire stomach, moaning into it, whispering things you can’t quite make out. your stomach caves in at the sensitive sensation, and a whimper escapes your lips. you feel him chuckle right at your waist, satisfied that you’re giving him a reaction. he circles his tongue at the side of your stomach, sucking on the lower side of your rib cage, not caring how eager he really looks. he continues making out with your entire front side because not only did it make you feel good, but he missed you desperately too.
your stomach was entirely wet, although you didn’t mind. a few seconds pass before you notice a pause in jungwon’s movements. you open your eyes a bit to see him lost in thought, calculation in his eyes as he glowers at the way your panties reveal a bit under your sleep pajamas. you look away, red in the face at the arousal in his stare. you’ll never get used to how much his demeanor changes when he’s turned on.
his fingers creep at your sides, hooking themselves onto your pajamas and pulling them all the way down. you open your eyes, shaking your head at jungwon and trying to reach for them to dress yourself again.
“there’s people around us,” you hush out in a single breath and he pushes you gently back down, giving you a serious look and you back down immediately.
despite the demeanor, his movements are gentle, slowly prying your legs apart as he lays himself between them. his face is directly in front of your cunt, and he snickers at the wet spot that formed on your panties. you’re mortified, to say the least, but jungwon looks up at you, the slightest smirk on his face that you would’ve missed if not for the small lamp.
he presses his fingers firmly on your damp panties and you bring your hand to your face to hold back a moan. he’s a bit cruel with his foreplay, not immediately going in stick his tongue in you, jungwon takes everything slowly because he likes making you gradually lose it. he rubs you right there, fingers circling you through that thin cloth, and you’re sure your slick is soaking every string of fabric. jungwon watches intensely at the way your legs are scrambling everywhere, stomach heaving in and out at the mere stimulation of his fingers.
he inches his face closer to you, sticking out his tongue just slightly and pressing it firmly against that same wet spot.
“wonnie, please no” you whine out and he fucks his tongue over your panties, lapping at your clit, and slowly losing your own mind.
he pulls your shirt up to your mouth, signaling you to bite down on it, making you feel a bit pathetic and inferior. he enjoys that though, and he continues licking your pussy.
“you like this don’t you?” you feel his teeth grazing on your panties and your abdomen buckles immediately, a small fang hitting your clit and you swear if it wasn’t for the fabric you may have came all over him. he furthers it by slightly biting your clit ever so gently, it all makes you want to do nothing more but push his head deep inside you, needing his tongue in all your holes if this is the game he wants to play.
“what if i stopped just like this? hmm? is this enough for you?” his face pulls away, halfway getting up before you pull at his arm to stay there. his bottom lip releases from the tugging of his teeth, his jaw dropping a bit at how eager you look. jungwon has a thing for making you beg, pushing you to ask him for what you need. he likes to see and hear your desires, especially if it makes you look the way you do now.
you shake your head with tears forming in your eyes. he wouldn’t be as cruel as this would he? you want him on you again, you wanna feel all of him inside you, really. instead of lowering himself down to tease you there again, he creeps up at you, a dark sensation in his eyes as he’s beyond turned on. he eyes your body the whole way up, before he’s right in front of your face, leaning down to kiss you deep. you love when jungwon gets like this. he’s all about teasing you to get desperate but what about him? does he ever realize how needy he looks? with the way his tongue is deep inside your mouth, you’re at ease knowing he’ll always need it just as much as you do.
“you heard everything i said earlier, didn’t you? i missed you baby.” you nod, bringing your two hands to cup his pretty face. you heard all of him.
“i wanna give it all to you right now, but you have to be quiet okay? kiss me whenever you can’t take it.” and you almost fall apart at his demand, jungwon and his filthy ideas that force you to be silent and secretive. curse the way you both were in the middle of a public camping ground and not the comfort of your own home.
he gets up on his knees, pulling his bottoms and boxers off, and you whimper at how big he’s gotten. his cock hits his abdomen once he pulls it out, his tip glistening a bit with him pre-cum. it’s bulging and you wanna do nothing but suck on it, teasing him like he did to you earlier. he smirks once he realizes you staring, lowering down to kiss you once more before he pulls the front of the sleeping bag so that it drapes his broad shoulders, covering the both of you completely.
you reach up to touch him through his shirt that he still kept on, wanting nothing more than to see him in his entirety. you grip at his shoulders, feeling how fit he’s always been.
he pumps himself a few times, clear fluid leaking down on your stomach and you gasp at how he’s already making a mess, not even inside you yet. his eyes close and bites his lip at the feeling of him stroking himself, and a small bit of jealousy bubbles in your chest wishing he was getting off by using you. but god, you can’t deny how good he looks right now. stroking his dick above you like he was about to finish all over your stomach when in reality he hasn’t even begun to fuck you.
you pull your panties down since he didn’t earlier, and he opens his eyes to lazily chuckle at you, making you blush. he kisses you on the lips again, his cock laying right on your stomach. you think you gushed a bit just at that feeling, your patience quickly thinning out.
with his mouth still pressed against yours, he lines his tip to run it up and down your clit. you moanly loudly and he bites down to gently shut you up. jungwon and his fucking teasing, you’re on a thin line, just a few more minutes and you don’t care what anyone sees or hears, you’ll climb on him immediately if you have to.
his tip strokes your clit over and over, your hole clenching around nothing as he stimulates you this way. it fits so perfectly between your folds, and you force back a whine. jungwon’s not too quiet himself as you feel him pant against you, his tip as sensitive as ever. he presses the entire backside of his cock to stroke between your folds, still not entering your hole yet. he humps your pussy this way, and you wraps your arms around his neck to taste his lips again.
he can barely kiss you back. always pushing you to the brink, never realizing how he can barely hold on too.
“please, just please” you whimper out, begging for anything in you at this point.
it’s minutes later before he finally reaches down to grab himself, lining to fit right into your hole. he groans immediately once his tip is inside, you moaning alongside him.
“fuck me already fucking please,” you’re desperate, too turned on to worry about anything. he brings his arms behind your head so that you rest on them, holding himself up with his forearms.
“wrap your legs around me” he demands and you do just that, realizing what this angle does to you, but it excites you nonetheless.
after a few more strokes with his tip he deepens himself, stretching you out further to which you can’t recall a time it ever feeling better than this. he’s big inside you, his thrusting steady. you kiss him as you can’t find a will in yourself to be quiet, hoping his lips can silence you as much as possible.
jungwon finally bottoms out, so deep both of your chests touch each other for a minute as he rests there, letting himself twitch inside you. your walls warm the throbbing of his penis, which makes him struggle to immediately start thrusting. his moans are a bit whinier, still deep but there’s a soft desperation there that leads you to believe how much he needs it now.
he finally pulls back and pounds hard inside you, your whole body shaking. usually, this would have made you cry out but jungwon taking his time to warm you up, he could do anything and you’d probably take it a bit too well. he fucks himself in and out, still cradling your head, kissing your forehead in adoration of his girl. he loves you so much, you feel it in the way he keeps his hold around you soft.
you like when jungwon fucks you at a pace that he maintains, laying there and letting himself thrust in and out for minutes so long, doing nothing but mewing and whining at how good it feels. tears brim your eyes as you feel yourself getting closer, while simultaneously hoping this never ends.
“could fuck you all night,”
you nod at his confession, genuinely believing him. you love how he never stops pumping in and out of you, his stamina so consistent there isn’t a doubt in your head that this could keep up for hours.
you don’t realize how jungwon meant what he said in this situation, because throughout the night he brings you both right to the edge before pulling himself all the way out for a few seconds just to thrust inside you all over again. you ask him why he won’t let you cum over and over, promising that you can handle it instead of being edged this way. he whispers how he doesn’t believe you, that he’ll only allow that after he sees how well you behave when you do cum.
with the countless edging, it gets to the point where even jungwon doesn’t know when it’s time to cum, he edges until he absolutely can’t anymore. there’s been multiple instances where he’s so close his mind forgets the entire game he’s going at, speeding up because he’s so ready to spill himself in you. however, you can always tell when he’s given up on the edging, his breathing and whines gets very evident. he fucks fast, hitting a spot so good you couldn’t force him to edge you again even if you wanted that. you beg him for your release in the minutes of him finally giving in, and you could cry at the orgasm that builds up.
“i love you so much, ____” he weakly moans, kissing you in the places he can as he’s far too gone to be precise.
“i love you, wonnie, love you so much” you reach up at his face, feeling his warm skin.
he looks down at the way he’s entering you, his final strokes sloppy as he cums deep inside you, the semen releasing as the base of his cock hits your clit. he groans so deep and he thrusts a few times more to which you cum right with him, moaning in his mouth and digging your heels deep in his lower back. you’re both completely on each other, holding each other so tight the only friction being him stroking in your walls. he continues moving in and out of you, dragging out your orgasm for as long as possible. it feels good beyond words, for a split second you think about whether you would wanna suggest a round two, but the thought goes away when he pulls himself out, his seed pouring out of you and the exhaustion hitting you once again.
he lays on you for a minute before rolling right by your side, pulling your body against his and burying his face inside you inner neck. both of your eyes are closed, the after feeling of sex resonating between your bodies.
was this something jungwon was thinking about doing to you all day? or did he only feel up for it once he saw how down you were? you recall back to the many times jungwon has comforted you this way, blushing at how good he always makes you feel.
“feeling any better?” he starts, “i don’t like my girl going to sleep upset.” his lashes brush your skin as he lazily kisses your shoulder. his aftercare is always so sweet, reassuring you that he still loves and adores your body even after he had his way with it. jungwon keeps you close after sex, you used to think that this was to make you feel better but his care is so sincere you wouldn’t doubt if he did it for his own needs too.
you smile, turning your head around to slightly look at him. he always looks his best after cumming.
“i was never upset”
#enhypen hard thoughts#enhypen hard hours#enhypen smut#enha smut#jungwon hard hours#jungwon hard thoughts#jungwon smut#jungwondazedjungwon
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Give Me A Taste - MYG (18+)
Pairing: Idol!Yoongi X Fem!Reader
Theme: PWP, SMUT, established relationship au
Wordcount: 1.3k+
Summary: Yoongi is down bad for you, he has been missing your taste crazily. Thanks to unexpected turns of events and a cancelled show, he can finally satiate his hunger for you.
Warnings: Titty fucking, yes, he fucks her tits, tit play (a bit), fingering, he cums on her chest, a heated make out, Unprotected sex (don't try this at home), NSFW!!
Minors are not allowed in this blog!!
A/N: It's been a minute since I have written anything for Mr. Min. so... here it is. also, this is an apology because I won't be able to update WDBHG this week. I'm so sorry.:(
You are trying your best to scrub off the burnt patch of your frying pan when you hear the door lock chiming its jovial sound.
“What the –” muttering to yourself, you start peeling off the washing gloves from your hands. It’s only you and Yoongi who know the passcode of your shared home. You are inside the condo and Yoongi is out on a world tour still having three more weeks to come back home. So it’s definitely a trespasser, or worse, a burglar or a robber trying to break into your house.
Your blood runs cold at the thought as you walk towards the door for taking a look at the doorbell screen. Your steps halt when you see your boyfriend putting off his shoes and slipping into home slippers.
“Yoongi?” you whisper, your eyes fill with moisture at an instant. It’s been nearly three months since you last saw him, smelled his calming scent, traced his skin with your fingertips. You have been missing him crazily and a brief phone or video call a day does absolutely nothing to quench your thirst.
“One of the shows got canceled due to extreme weather conditions, we have a week till the next one. So, we decided to rest for a bit.” Yoongi reasons in his usual calm voice, before you get to ask him. He comes to stand right in front of you as you keep on staring at him.
“Oh. Have you-”
“Are you just going to stare at me?” Yoongi cuts you off. His face is unreadable but his eyes are dark, which makes it hard for you to assume anything.
“No, I-”
You get cut off again but this time because Yoongi slams his lips onto yours, pinning you to the nearest wall.
Your boyfriend is usually calm and collected but he becomes a beast when lust takes over his senses.
He grabs your wrists with both of his hands, pinning those above your head as he presses his body on yours.
He kisses you hungrily, as if trying to lavish your lips for all the times he was away from you. You kiss him back with just as much urgency. The make out session is so heated that it spreads heat all over your body, including your pussy that just started wetting your cotton panties.
You realize Yoongi is on the same page when his semi hard bulge presses on your stomach.
He bites down on your lower lip, pulling it with his teeth before leaving you fucked up with only kisses.
Yoongi loves you. Oh hell! It will be underestimated to say that he just loves you. He is obsessed with you! He craves for you like a lunatic. He starves for you.
This prolonged period of staying away from you has been taking a toll on him, that’s why he came rushing back to you as soon as he got the chance.
He looks at you with hooded eyes, stares down at your swollen lips then at your perked nipples. Fuck! You look heavenly like this. He can’t wait to feel your warmth wrapped around his length.
“I’ve missed you,Y/N. I can barely control myself anymore.” Yoongi whispers as he latches his lips to your throat, placing soft and lingering kisses wherever he could reach.
“You don’t need to control yourself, Yoongi. I am all yours. Do whatever you want. I am all yours.” You breathe out. Yoongi’s tight grip on your wrists arouses you by an impossible amount.
“Yes baby. I am going to fuck you so good now. But before that.. Give me a taste? Will you?” Yoongi’s low voice sends a trail of goosebumps all over your body. You suddenly find an urge to shy away from him and his eyes which are currently boring in your chest, more precisely, your nipples.
Yoongi finds it adorable the way you get a little shy whenever he asks for a taste of your tits. He loves your tits, he can never get enough of those and fucking your tits is one of his most favourite ways of ruining you.
He leaves your hands and clutches at the rim of your oversized tshirt to pull it off of your body. His eyes turn even darker as soon as you are topless in front of him.
He palms your tits for a few moments. You push your tits out to enjoy more of his touch by arching your back. Yoongi chuckles at your eagerness.
“Guess you missed me too, darling?” he squeezes both of your tits at the same time to erect a soft contained sigh from your lips.
“You have no idea how much.” you murmur while enjoying Yoongi’s rough hands on your soft supple flesh.
His fingers find your nipples and he twists those to satisfy himself, “then you will let me fuck your titties today, won’t you?”
“I will…” you voice somehow.
Yoongi bends down and takes one of your nipples in his mouth.
As soon as the bud is inside his mouth, he starts lapping it up with his saliva before sucking it hard. All of your breath is knocked out when he worries your nipple between his teeth, not quite biting it rather playing with it with practiced skills.
One of your hands finds its way to his long dark hair, nails raking through his scalp, earning a moan from your boyfriend. Your other hand travels down to south, brushing through the rough material of his jeans, grabbing his bulge and rubbing it to satiate your burning need that has developed for him.
Yoongi repeats his actions with your other nipple, arousing you more and more.
You are far too gone with the pleasure to notice that Yoongi has smeared your chest with his saliva, seemingly preparing you tits to take his cock.
“Should we head to the couch now?” he asks with his gentle yet low voice. You nod eagerly.
He lifts you up effortlessly, carries you to the couch and lays you down. Swiftly removing the rest of your clothes and leaving you lying naked on the couch, he reaches for his own clothes.
His cock springs out of his boxers, tall and proud and ready to fuck you. He smirks, feeling you eyeing him like the horny, hungry girl that you are.
Yoongi climbs on top of you, places his knees on either side of you, and lines his cock in the middle of your tits. You squeeze your tits tightly to make a tight passage for your boyfriend’s greedy cock.
His first thrust is a little messy, the head of his cock nudges you on your chin, painting your chin with his precum.
The next thrusts are more stable and steady and soon you hear Yoongi groaning in pleasure. He is such a goner when it comes to your tits. You tighten your tits even more to rile him up.
“B-Baby, ugh, Y/N! I will c-cum at this rate.” Yoongi whines. Your eyes roll back at the sensation of his cock being squeezed by your big tits.
But you start seeing stars when you feel Yoongi’s fingers parting your folds and drawing tight circles on your clit.
“Oh my– Yoongi” you fumble to make any coherent sentence.
Arousal pools out of your hole and creates a mess down there.
Apparently, it’s too much for Yoongi to take in your fucked up state, your wetness on his fingers and your tits squeezing the hell out of his cock, all together. His dick starts twitching and before he could warn you, he is cumming all over your face, throat and chest.
Your grip on your tits loosen as you bring your hand to wipe your face off. When your vision returns to you, you find Yoongi licking your juices off of his fingers while maintaining a steady eye contact with you. He definitely doesn’t look like someone who just cummed all over you.
Repositioning himself, Yoongi lowers his head to the level of your cunt and chuckles in his breathy voice, “Next up is your pussy. Give me a taste, yeah?”
And you know you are going to have a long day ahead.
Taglist:
@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @sukunabitch @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae
#bts smut#yoongi smut#suga smut#bts x reader#yoongi x reader#suga x reader#bts fanfiction#yoongi x you#yoongi x y/n#suga fanfic#suga x you#bts oneshot#bts fanfic#yoongi fanfic#min yoongi#bts
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
IT'S A NEED - CHOSO KAMO
✴︎ summary: after you take an attack meant for him, choso can't seem to understand why -- so you show him just how important he is to you.
✴︎ contents: 18+ only, angst then smut, choso is confused about human emotions, he doesn't know if he deserves love, making out, groping, sex (p in v), handjob (f! + m! receiving), semi-public sex (sort of), pet names (love, pretty, lovely)
✴︎ wc: 1,965
“Why did you take that hit for me?” his words come out in a hiss, a rush of breath that he forces out between gritted teeth, as if he was both afraid to ask and afraid not to, “it was foolish, it was unnecessary—”
You blow out a sigh between your pursed lips, as you rest against a damp sheet against cold concrete of a corner of Shibuya that currently wasn’t under attack — the not too distant groans of other injured not too far, but far enough for your privacy, “You know why I did it, so why are you asking that, when you mean to ask something else?”
And you knew him — knew him a little too well for someone who only had known him a few weeks now? Is that how long it had been since he had joined up with sorcerers? Switched sides to protect his little brother — and somehow, he ended up here — sitting next to you instead of him. Yuji could handle himself — he had faith in his brother — and he knew you could too. A skilled sorcerer — he saw your skill firsthand from a distance during the fights in shibuya, and then up close when you nearly caved his head in when you found out how he almost killed Yuji.
Is that when he first started to like you?
He didn’t know.
Could he even have such emotions? He had never known any sort of love, except for that of his brothers. But that was natural? To care for his family, to watch after them, to protect them, to avenge them. And anything that helped him achieve that goal, was worth it was it not? Even if it came at the cost of a different life, right? His eyes slid to you again, so why did it huqrt so much when he saw you crumpled on the ground, blood pooling on the cement around your abdomen, the same blood he didn’t think twice about when it spilled from other humans or sorcerers alike. Now, it was different.
He was different — maybe you were, to him.
“What question am I asking then?” he finally asks, as you only sigh again, eyes fluttering open to look at him with that same gaze that felt as if you were looking right through him.
“You’re asking me why I thought you were worthy of being saved in the first place?” and his mouth parts — words ringing in his ear.
It was true — he was a cursed womb — a mixture of curse and human blood that never was supposed to exist in the first place, a thing that has no other purpose in this world, aside from his brothers. And especially after the things he’s done, the people he’s killed, the harm he’s caused, and even the body he walks in now isn’t his own, but a person killed for his gain — how was he worthy of saving? How was he worthy of the risk of your life?
“And what’s your answer?” he asks, his voice growing raw, as he can’t bear to look at you, his gaze fixed on his lap, and he doesn’t see you push yourself up, sitting, as you stare at him, lips curling in a small smile, as you leaned over, fingers brushing against his cheek, that finally pull his gaze back to you.
“Because you’re Choso, because you deserve to be saved, you deserve the same kindness you’ve given to us,” your fingers are so gentle against him, had he ever been touched so gently before? His eyes almost feel the urge to shut, and just indulge in the feeling of your skin against his, “you didn’t ask to be here, you were manipulated, you were controlled, and you were forced to be a pawn,”
“But that doesn’t change—”
“It doesn’t change the hurt you caused, no, but that’s not who you are now,” you force him to meet your gaze, lips curled in a smile, “and who are now is definitely worth saving,”
“But why?” he still doesn’t understand, he still doesn’t see his worth, and you give your third sigh, before your other hand finds his shoulder, pulling him closer, a breath away.
“Do I have to spell it out for you, Choso?” your words warm his lips, and send warmth to the tips of his fingers, warmth he hadn’t known since he had been forced to come back. And all he can feel is your hands against him, all he can see are your eyes gazing at him the way he thought anyone would, and all he can think about is when your lips are finally going to touch his, “because I think I can only show you now,” and your thumb finds his lips, dragging down the bottom one, “would you want that?”
And his eyes flutter, a sharp intake of breath when your finger touches his lips, “I don’t think I’d like anything more,” he whispers, his eyes falling to your lips, as you lean forward.
Your lips brush his, featherlight, as if you worry he’d recoil, he’d run, he’d leave, but he does none of those things. Your lips part from his and he’s staring, as you do, before his lips seek yours again. And this time, he’s sure.
His lips surge against yours, as you melt into his touch, as gentle as can be — those same hands used to slaughter, now grazing your sides as if you’d break apart in his hands. And he didn’t care if the world was falling apart — and it was all around you both — if he could have this moment with you, maybe it’d be worth it.
“What is this hold you have over me?” He murmurs, and you’re pulling him closer to your tattered blanket against the concrete, fingers running through his hair making him shiver, “you touch me and I can’t think straight, I can’t—“
“Then don’t,” you murmur, your lips pressing butterfly kisses to his jaw, “give in, let me love you,”
And he does, relinquishing his thoughts and worries in exchange for your touch, and his hands find your waist, as you move slowly, climbing into his lap, making him grunt, before concern flickers across his features.
“Your injuries—“ he starts, but your lips brush against his ear, lips curved against the soft flesh.
“Are not as serious as how much I want you right now,” your words send a shiver down his spine, as your lips find his again, and you swallow his groan with pleasure. Your tongue parts his lips, as you taste him, fingers carding through his jet-black locks, fingers pulling at the ties in his hair, pulling them around your wrists, “I’ll keep them safe,” you tease, you tug teasingly at his hair making him gasp.
You’re pulling moans and whines from his lips, as you part from him for a moment, breaths coming as pants, as you press your forehead to his, taking in his now kiss ruined lips and violet irises glazed with lust, “so pretty,” you coo, “too pretty, Choso, how am I supposed to resist?”
And your fingers find their way to his belt, pausing, “is this okay?” Your hand cups his cheek, thumb brushing the length, and he’s nodding wordlessly, as his fingers find yours, undoing his belt and letting his robe fall open.
Your breath catches as you see him, your fingers dragging over his bare chest and abs, your eyes finding your way to his cock — it was so pretty, long and thick with a pretty pearl of precum. And your gaze is hot, hypnotized, “all this f’me?” You murmur, making him swallow, and then gasp as your fingers trace the vein running up the side. Your lips curl, “oh we’re just getting started, baby,”
Your fingers curl around his cock, your thumb rubbing against his slit, making him hiss, “I—“ his hips stutter against you, bumping against your damp shorts, making you groan. And he was so good in your hand, how good would he feel inside?
No, not yet, you wanted to make him feel good first.
“It’s okay, just breath,” your fingers tease his head, smiling as his head lolls back, and your hand begins to stroke him, spreading the precum along his length, “I got you, let me make you feel good,”
And your hand squeezes at the base, and he’s groaning your name, like a curse, as your other hand teases his balls, before you’re slipping off his lap, pressing his tip against your lips, painting them with his precum.
“You taste so good, Choso,” you lick your lips clean of him, tasting his salty precum.
“Please, love,” he’s murmuring, a whine in his throat, his fingers pulling at your clothes, “I want you—I want you to feel good too,”
And you smile, guiding his hands to your shorts, “Are you sure?” You murmur, kissing his neck, “we don’t-“
He’s pulling your shorts off, as he’s lowering you onto the sheet gently, tugging them off, his calloused palms parting your soft thighs. And his gaze darkens, half lidded with lust, “You’re lovely,” his fingers brush against your soaked folds, thumb pressing against your puffy clit, making you gasp, “you like that?” He hums.
And he’s leaning down, his lips brushing against your inner thigh, “Choso, please—“ and his breath warms your cunt, pressing a kiss to your dripping pussy, drawing a gasp from your lips, “I need you—“
“What do you need, pretty?” His velvet words are thick and slow like molasses, settling warm heat over your skin, as his hands draw up your thighs around his waist, “do you want my hands? My lips?”
And your hips roll against him, his tip bumping against your cunt, “what do you think?” And he’s hissing, before he’s grasping as his dick, teasing you with his head, “fuuuck, Choso,”
“Not so loud,” he murmurs, “someone could hear us, see you all spread out for me, and this view is just for me, lovely,” and his cock is parting your folds, both moaning in synchrony, your walls fluttering around him, “so tight, pretty, so fucking wet,”
You think he’s even prettier, brow furrowed and forehead slick with sweat, kiss bitten lips parted in a pant, and his violet eyes fluttering. And he’s bottoming out in you, his hips pressed against you, “so good, so perfect,” he’s murmuring, and he’s pulling out only to thrust back in. His strokes are languid at first, before he’s fucking you in earnest, hips snapping against yours, “.
“Choso, fuck, please, I’m close—“ your back is arching against him, and his lips find yours again in a searing kiss, as his fingers reach down between the two of you, and press against your clit, just as his hips piston into you just right with deep long strokes, until your walls are clamping down. He doesn’t last much longer, his hips stuttering against you, until he’s moaning, his hot load painting your walls white, as he fucks his cum into you.
And he’s panting above you, as you pull him into a sloppy kiss, pulling him beside you, as he slips out of you, making you whine at the emptiness.
“Don’t think that was part of Shoko’s instructions for recovery,” you murmur against his lips, as you grin, “but it was definitely needed,”
His lips curl, as he’s pressing kisses along your jaw, “So you need me, huh?” and the question fills him with warmth, just as you have, a sort of purpose he had never had, aside from his family — a want for him that he had never thought he’d be lucky enough to have.
And you only smile, pulling him into another kiss, “Why else do you think I took that hit for you?”
✴︎ a/n: new episode did something to me. i have a longer fic planned for choso, but this will have to do for today :). yes i'm posting this in the middle of the night, sue me.
✴︎ tag list: @kakashineedstotouchgrass, @kemitoi, @thecooldino, @moonnime, @bontensbabygirl, @wretchedinfinity, @lemonpoppy-seed, @ichikanu, @snowscaping, @kamikokii, @fwankieero, @ssaraexposs, @astridyoo15, @cascading-escapist, @sniffsnoffsniff, @raddiplomatshepherdhero, @nverwashere, @n00v4, @unohanaswetdream, @staygoldsquatchling02, @anime9ja,
#sab [mlist]#choso x reader#choso kamo x reader#choso kamo smut#choso kamo#choso#choso x you#choso kamo x you#choso smut#jjk choso#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen fanfiction#jujutsu kaisen x reader#choso jjk#kamo choso
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
take me home, country road
[ao3]
You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 11)
first chapter >> last chapter
-
Your heart could very well have stopped beating and you’d be none the wiser.
By now, you’ve experienced fear in all its varietals. The stomach churning and the latent, the languid; the swift moving silverfish slipping out of your grasp. The monstrous rising beast of it the day you turned around to find the master of the house turning the lock on the door and trapping you in with him. Then the delayed panic in the aftermath of bringing the bust down over his head and hearing his skull crack under its weight, the blood pooling around his body, almost aureole-like. Pondering the miraculous like, well, isn’t that just the devil of it. A halo for a man intent on your ruin.
The fear washing over you now is entirely new though. Like a rapid exhalation. Of course you were right all along . Right to expect the devil showing up on your doorstep. The weeks of silence had imbued you with a sense of confidence. An arrogant, undeserved confidence that whispered in your ear to let your guard down.
But you know now that the world is not large enough to hide in. It is a wasteland of false prophets and false directions. There are no second chances.
The only consolation is the silence from the man behind the counter as he studies the warrant. You imagine him standing there giving it a good once over, his face maybe scrunching up as it calls to mind the woman that just walked through his door. You wonder if they thought to add a sketch of your likeness, whether there’ll be a woman on the warrant that looks an awful lot like you.
You stay put behind the shelf though, not risking so much as a peep.
“Any information you might have would be much obliged,” Graves says, trying to coax an answer out.
After a few more seconds, the shop attendant answers with a rueful, “Can’t say I have, sir. You want me to leave this with the sheriff?”
Graves breathes out through his nose in frustration. “Now, are you positive about that? Take a closer look—I don’t mind waitin’ a bit longer for you to sift through your memories. I’m sure a town as big as this must get passersby from time to time.”
“No. I’m sorry, sir, but I’m certain. Never seen a woman fitting this description or name. Couldn’t even tell you the last time we had a stranger come through town and stay longer than a day.”
“I see.” It’s hard to tell whether Graves takes him at his word or not. The aura of menace that the man exudes suggests that anything said to him might rouse his suspicions. That they’ve already been roused, in fact. It makes even you second guess the man behind the counter, wondering if perhaps he knows and simply stays his tongue.
“Sorry I couldn’t be of more help. Still want me to pass this along to the sheriff?”
The floorboards creak under his feet when Graves takes a step back. “If you don’t mind. Been having the darndest time tryin’ to track down the man and, frankly, I’ve got other obligations. I do appreciate your time though.”
You stay hidden behind the shelf, listening to the sound of the spurs on his boots rattling as he leaves. The chime on the door jingles when it slams shut. You flinch at the sound. For a minute after his departure, you wonder if the door will burst back open and he’ll come crashing in, heading straight for the back to haul you out by your hair.
A minute passes and nothing happens. The floor beneath you still feels like it might give out at any moment.
When you take your first step, the nausea comes rushing up.
“Mrs. Price,” the shop attendant says, perking up at the sight of you coming out from behind the shelf. “I forgot you were still here.”
You feel like an automaton or a ball-jointed doll, your movements stiff as you approach him. Morbidly curious as to what you’ll see on the warrant spread out on the counter separating the two of you. When you look down, your breath comes shuddering out.
The sketch on the paper does bear a passing resemblance to you, but only if you squint. Nothing that anyone could point to and claim with certainty that it depicts you. Underneath the sketch, you balk when you see your real name. It’s jarring to even look at. Though you’ve gone most of your life answering to it, the past few weeks have disabused you of any connection to it. Now, you feel permeable, malleable—a substance that has been reshaped into something new. That girl on the warrant is gone now. Done and dusted. So detached from memory that even the sketch of her depicts someone else, proves false.
Still, you’re shaken by how close he’d gotten. Supposing Graves had come in while you’d been within sight. Supposing he’d looked you in the eye and asked you directly, and you’d stuttered under his sharklike gaze and drawn further scrutiny. You almost can’t believe how close it’d grazed you. The sharp edge of fate like a blade now sheathed again.
“Would you mind taking this to the sheriff?” he asks, not realizing the gift he’s given you. “I’m a bit tied up minding the shop.”
You nod wordlessly and take the folded up warrant from him.
It burns red hot in your hands when you step outside. You glance around nervously, unsure as to whether Graves had stuck around to question more people. You wouldn’t be surprised if he were still within earshot.
You waver in the street with the folded piece of paper tucked in your hands. A horse pulling along a cart laden with firewood creaks as it passes, rousing you from the trance you’d fallen into. You flinch, raising a hand to shield your eyes from the sun. It’s blinding suddenly. A clear sky, the clouds long since taken away by the wind.
John could be anywhere at this time of day. Despite the fear curdling in your belly, you can’t help the knee jerk reaction to go to him. That’s precisely what you don’t want to do though. You don’t want to be around the county sheriff on the day a bounty hunter came into town looking for you.
A crow sitting on the roof of a building across the street caws and flaps its wings, taking off into the sky.
You want to be anywhere but in town waiting anxiously for John to come find you. You don’t want to lay eyes on him and see that he’s found you out. The thought of John finding out about the man you killed back east is beyond contemplation. It nearly has you keeling over in the middle of the street. You can hardly bear the thought. How could you bear to live a moment beyond that, withering under his disapproval? His contempt?
You don’t think you can.
Every shadow fills you with dread. A barmaid comes out to toss a bucket of dirty water in the alley and you flinch like you’ve been caught. You keep your head down as you walk, eyes straight on the ground. Someone calls out your fake name and you ignore them.
Your instinct, as usual, is to run. Abscond from the scene of the crime. Even if the thought hurts. Even though you’d let yourself begin to hope that the times of trouble had passed you by. That perhaps you could’ve made a home out here in the middle of nowhere. You should have known that those dreams were just that. You should have known better than to want. These days, it is dangerous to long for anything.
It’s better if you fade from memory like a bad dream, you think when you spot Buttercup fixed to the post outside the sheriff’s office. Better if they think of you with a bad taste in their mouth and nothing more. A girl that came and stole their sheriff’s heart and his horse and then vanished into the night.
When one of her black eyes fixes on you, you still in your advance. A horse can’t possibly read your intentions, but you feel like she does somehow. Like she knows you intend to take her and flee. She shifts, hooves coming up and back down, and you swallow the saliva pooling in your mouth suddenly, nerves taking on. You won’t let yourself be ruled by them though. There are bigger things to fear.
“Come on, Buttercup,” you whisper, hesitating before smoothing your hand down her nose. You flinch when she nickers. “I just—I need you to help me, okay?”
It’s an outrageously bad idea. Even to you that’s obvious. You don’t have nearly enough experience riding solo or even with John trailing behind you on another horse to help offer correction if you falter on your own. You’re blinded by fear though, practically shaking as you undo Buttercup’s lead from the post outside the sheriff’s office.
You’re clumsy trying to hoist yourself up onto her without John to boost you up and hold you steady. It takes a couple of tries before you manage to swing your leg over, and you curse under your breath when your dress bunches up around your waist, exposing the bare flesh of your legs. There aren’t many people roaming the street, fortunately for you.
Buttercup resists at first when you tug lightly on the reins to guide her away. She stomps her foot when you try again, giving a light whinny. Panic seizes you, a coil in your belly. You’ve only ever ridden her before with John at your side; you wonder if she’ll even listen to you in his absence or if even she can tell you’re about to do something foolish and wants nothing to do with it.
“Please, girl,” you beg. “I promise—I’ll figure out some way to get you back.”
On the third attempt, she finally listens. The way she abruptly breaks into a fast trot nearly sends you toppling over. You catch yourself by clutching the horn, tight enough that your knuckles ache. Your forehead breaks out in a nervous sweat. Buttercup covers ground fast, and without John sitting behind you like a silent sentinel, you feel control slip out of your slippery hands, clammy with sweat too.
“Whoa, girl,” you breathe, trying to calm her by stroking a hand down her neck.
It does precious little to calm her down. You remember something John once said about animals smelling fear. They know it like your name.
You lose control of her fast. Almost in the blink of an eye, you go from steering Buttercup towards John’s house to holding on for dear life. Your body rocks with hers and you’re forced to tighten your thighs around her midsection when she breaks into a gallop, your hands still clinging tight to the reins. Her hooves kick up dust and dirt in her haste, sending it flying behind you.
“Slow down!” you shout, but the words are swept away by the wind, already behind you.
Not once have you ever ridden a horse at this speed. Your direction seems like more of a suggestion to Buttercup, and not one she’s inclined to take. The town rapidly vanishes behind you, the vegetation sparse for the first few hundred yards, arid scrubland scorched by the sun and fed off of by the horses and mules coming in and out of town. The sun beats down hot on your head, no hat to shield you from the heat.
You can’t imagine you would’ve been able to hold it down though, you think wildly, mind still in a flurry of panic. It would’ve flown right off ages before.
Your breath comes out in hitched pants as you clutch with all your might to the horn of the saddle, your hands soon transferring to her mane for better purchase. Buttercup moves like a rogue wave beneath you, like something sailors only speak about in hushed whispers. She takes a wide arc around John’s property, heading towards the mountains instead, and no amount of trying to steer her with your legs seems to work.
Your head whips back to watch the house pass, the dark shape of it sailing past you, and it nearly causes you to lose your balance. Looking back in front of you only makes it worse. Panic courses through you when you stare ahead only for the world in front of you to spin. Bile creeps up your throat. You swallow it back, but only just.
The half-formulated plan you’d had in mind is long gone. All you can focus on now is remaining astride the horse beating dirt under you. Any thought of bringing her to a halt dissipates. Even the thought of escape evaporates into thin air.
Only when you feel Buttercup slow to a trot do you peel open your eyes. The breath you let out as you look around is short, panic still churning in your guts.
Over the weeks since John married you and took you home, he’s taken you through the mountains a fair few times, familiarizing you with the land to the best of his abilities in such a short amount of time. But the wilderness stretches far and the terrain beyond John’s homestead is rough, treacherous.
When you look around, you realize that you don’t recognize this part of the mountainside.
The trail Buttercup takes you down is cut haphazard into the landscape—a crude, handmade path, not one seared into the ground from frequent travel. It feels distinctly wilder than where you’ve been before. Your head swivels around as you try to look for something that might jog your memory. The striated mountainside tells you nothing. The trees out this deep into the mountains are thicker and older, gnarled root systems bursting up from the earth and coiling around the nearby rocks like snakes winding around their prey.
You sit up a bit straighter, still shaking when you rub your hand down Buttercup’s neck. “You know where we are, girl?”
She puffs out a breath.
That tells you nothing, but she keeps going down the same path deeper into the woods. No amount of squeezing your thighs or patting her neck gets her to stop. You should be thankful that she’s at least no longer sprinting, that you can actually sit up and catch your breath now, but the fear from earlier is but a paltry shadow compared to that which is brewing in you now.
Every crick and snapping twig makes your head spin round. You stare intensely past the treeline, searching for the barest hint of motion. You don’t know much about these parts, but you know that this is no place for a woman by her lonesome. Even a man on his own out here might feel jumpy. This far out of the way, only cougars and bears take refuge, and the odd band of outlaws making camp for the night and taking advantage of the relative isolation this far out west.
“Come on, girl, we can’t be out here,” you whisper, leaning closer to Buttercup to hopefully muffle your voice. Even as low as you speak, it still seems to echo.
You don’t know where you’re meant to go though. In the flurry of panic that had come over you at Graves’ arrival, you’d bolted without thought. Without a compass or map, you’re as good as lost in the unsettled land deep in the mountains.
As that reality dawns on you, you realize that you haven’t had a drink of water in quite some time.
An hour must pass with Buttercup stubbornly refusing to listen to your commands to turn back. Maybe longer. She resists even when you pull on the reins. In truth, you don’t blame her. Your commands come feeble, no strength behind them. The fear of being bucked off her back makes you soft. John would be gruff, unyielding—you can’t imagine him giving into fear.
That somehow upsets you even more. You can’t help but wish more than anything that he were here with you.
The temperature drops as the sun begins to set. Without the sun beating down on you, you shiver in the cold air. There’s nothing to keep you warm other than the clothes on your back. Your lips smack when you part them, parched after hours without water. You haven’t stumbled across a river or stream in the hours since starting down this path.
Then, from behind you, you hear it.
The name that isn’t yours. You don’t catch it at first until it comes again, louder this time. When you look over your shoulder and down the path behind you, John’s furious face stares back at you, his lips worked into a flat line.
The way you gasp must spook Buttercup, because she abruptly breaks into a gallop, forcing you to hunker down and hold on. You want desperately to look back, torn between relief and distress, but you stare ahead instead.
The black horse he rides gains on you fast, legs pumping beneath its massive body. It’s not a horse you’ve seen before. Maybe borrowed in his haste to chase after you. You don’t let yourself digest that thought though, too concerned with remaining astride.
Despite its size, it collapses the distance between you two quickly, nearly on you now. Instinct has you leaning into Buttercup, trying to get as low as possible and let the air glide around you. Her gallop quickens into a sprint. You’re just holding on now, facing straight ahead, no chance of being more than a passenger on this trip.
John shouts at you from your rear to bring Buttercup to a stop. You squeeze your lips together instead of shouting back that you can’t. If you open your mouth, you think your stomach will come straight out.
Your body jostles around on top of your horse, on the verge of slipping off with every passing second. When she takes a turn too quickly down a trail leading up into the mountains and you slide a bit to one side on the saddle, only your foot in the stirrup catching you, your heart stops. Fear is ice inverted; poured over you. It drenches you in another layer of sweat that dries rapidly in the air whipping around you.
Hot and cold. The ground seems to come towards you every time Buttercup’s legs kick up. Always on the verge of falling and breaking every bone in your body. You suck your tongue to the roof of your mouth so it doesn’t get caught between your clacking teeth and bitten right off.
“Pull up on the reins!” John roars over the cacophony of stomping hooves.
A glance to your right finds him close enough to graze with your fingertips. Your heart jumps in your chest.
“Pull up!” he shouts again, but all you can do is stare uncomprehendingly.
You don’t know if he can see the terror in your eyes. It must be splayed clean across your face. He has to see the way his words mean nothing to you. Your panic effaces any meaning; all you hear is noise and anger pouring from his mouth, and trampled dirt and labored breath.
When his horse pulls up alongside yours, he gets close enough to lean over and snatch the reins out of your hands. He pulls firm, tugging Buttercup’s head back until she almost rears up and you scream, hands fisting in her mane.
Your body lurches forward when she comes back down, slumped over the saddle horn. It digs hard into your stomach. There’ll be a bruise there come morning, but nothing like the bruises that’ll bloom between your thighs. Even now the ache radiates down your body. You look up at the sound of John’s breath panting out like a bull, and he glares down at you with undisguised fury, the angriest you’ve ever seen him.
“What in the blazes were you thinkin’?” he booms. Even the horse he sits astride shakes its head at the sound. “There’s nothing out here but outlaws and predators!”
The hand fisted in Buttercup’s reins pulls her closer, and he guides both horses into a slow trot and then to a stop. You can feel the way Buttercup’s ribs expand and contract under your legs.
“Stop it— don’t touch me!” you snap when he reaches for you, smacking his hand away.
“Darlin’, if you get off that damned horse—” John warns, but you’re already swinging your leg over the saddle as the words come out of his mouth.
You almost trip over the stirrup when you slide off Buttercup’s back and take off on foot. You fist the skirt of your dress in both hands to lift it as you run, letting it swish around you with the force of your strides. A curse and grunt come from back behind you. The sound of John’s boots hitting the dirt is loud, and when he chases after you, his boots pound into the earth.
It’s a desperate last move, but all you can think is that you’d rather be anywhere else but in his arms. You’d rather take your chances with the wolves and bears in the woods, or with the bandits and brigands on the trails leading to the next town.
You barely make it past the next tree before he barrels into you and takes you both to the ground, the world spinning as you fall down. He angles his body to take the brunt of the impact, but you still cry out when your hip hits the ground hard. The way he pulls you into his chest just barely keeps your head from slamming into a rock.
“Goddamn it, woman,” John spits. “Where d’ya think you’re even going? There ain’t nowhere to run out here!”
Your head spins. When you open your mouth, all you can taste is rust and salt, sweat dripping off your upper lip. You can feel the heat of his chest against your back and he doesn’t give you a chance to gather your bearings before hauling you to your feet, tugging both of your arms behind your back.
“Let me go!” you scream, trying to wrestle out of his hold to no avail.
You know he doesn’t understand, but you can’t help the way you try to fight your way out of his hold. There’s no explanation that’ll make sense to him other than the truth, which you clamp tight in your chest. There's no telling if he already knows, if maybe Graves finally tracked him down or if someone else brought their suspicions to his attention, but you won't go spilling the truth yourself.
He’s a solid mass behind you, breath labored from hours spent tracking you. You wonder if he noticed mere moments after you took Buttercup and left or whether he came back to the sheriff’s office only to find the two of you gone.
John holds your wrists in one big hand at the small of your back and gives you a mean shake. “I don’t know what’s got you so riled up, but you better fix this attitude of yours and explain yourself before we get home or so help me God, I’ll take my belt to your ass.”
The mention of him belting your backside makes your hands go clammy, but you must have abandoned your common sense a mile back because your mouth keeps running. “I’ll gut you like a pig if you touch a hair on my head!”
“We’ll just see about that,” he grunts, and you can hear the raw edged smirk in his voice and the anger behind it.
When he leads you stumbling towards the horses waiting in the middle of the trail, you realize that capture had always been an inevitability in your mind. Maybe it even comes as a relief to know that the jig is up.
You just hadn’t realized that it would be someone else hauling you back by your hair.
#ceil writing#cod mw2#cod x reader#price x you#price x reader#john price x reader#price/reader#john price/reader#captain john price#captain john price x reader#captain john price x you
890 notes
·
View notes
Text
OBSESSED
pairings: draco malfoy x fem!gryffindor!reader, platonic!golden trio x reader.
word count: .9k
summary: Draco Malfoy was your least favorite person in the world, and you thought the feeling was mutual. What happens when you realize he’s actually obsessed with you?
part 1
Hogsmeade was your all time favorite place, especially in winter. Dressed in your favorite patterned scarf, big black jacket, long tights, and black boots, you felt warm and cozy. You and Hermione have your arms draped around each other’s shoulders as the two of you exit the Three Broomsticks, the taste of Butterbeer still on your tongue.
The two of you giggle at who knows what, stumbling from how hard you’re laughing. The slight falling of snowflakes doesn’t effect your mood, you watch as one lands on your nose as you and Hermione come down from your fit of giggles, choosing to focus on what you guys came here for; Christmas shopping for the boys.
Harry and Ron were a pain in your arse, but that didn’t mean they two weren’t simple. They wanted quidditch gear for when the season starts up again in spring. Easy as pie for you and your seemingly infinite money.
You and Hermione’s feet leave footprints in the snow, it crunching beneath your boots as you walk to Spintwitches Quidditch Supplies. Your smile seems untouchable as you walk with a pep in your step, staring down at your shoes. When you look up your smile falters, a frown threatening your lips at the sight of him.
White blond hair, a tight hoodie and a jacket thrown over that. Malfoy stands with Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott on either of his sides. He leans against the wall of Honeydukes that leads you down into an alley. He nods along to whatever Nott was saying, clearly not paying attention. His eyes drift from his friends to yours.
Draco Malfoy is, simply put, your least favorite person in the entire world. There are no words to describe the absolutely anger the boy causes you. His arrogance and disrespect towards you and your friends is a mood sourer, and he was ruining your amazing day with just one look at you. His effect on you was irritating, and you could feel your own heart race and hear your breathe hitch when his blue eyes met yours. Fuck.
Your warm eyes turn cold in an instant as you watch Malfoy smirk. He reaches a hand up to ruffle his already messy hair as he starts to walk over to you and Hermione.
Too busy glaring at Malfoy as he saunters over, you miss the knowing look Nott and Zabini share with Hermione.
“Just ignore him,” Hermione urges. You give her a look, a pout plastered on your lips. She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.
Easier said then done.
“Well, well,” Malfoy taunts. He’s grinning over at you, hands tucked into his pockets as he tilts his head at you, not even bothering to glance at Hermione. “Look who escaped the clutches of her boyfriend,” he spit, the words directed toward Harry, even though he wasn’t your boyfriend. “Never thought I’d see the day.”
Your eye roll is immediate. “Why don’t you mind your own business, Malfoy?” you sneer, before sarcastically saying, “Surely a man like yourself has much better matters to attend to then bothering some Gryffindors.”
Malfoy’s smirk deepens as his eyes flicker down your body for a moment. “Don’t cut yourself short. I prefer it here.”
“Can’t we go, Y/N. Please.” Hermione tugs on your arm, already dragging you up the hill, away from the boy who seemed to never be capable of staying away from you.
“Yes, please,” you groaned, throwing your head back and rolling your eyes as you linked yours and Hermione’s arm together.
You can hear Malfoy’s footsteps behind you as he hurries to catch up to you, desperate for whatever he gains from annoying you. “Running away so soon? I knew you were a coward,” he exclaims.
That makes you pause, turning around, eyebrows scrunched in aggravation. “Excuse me?” you scoff, releasing Hermione’s hand and rushing to where the boy stood. “I’ll punch you in the face just like I did third year, don’t doubt that.”
His eyes sparkle as he looks down at you, your threat bouncing off of him. “Believe me, I don’t doubt you. Never have.”
What in the bloody hell was he on about?
”Mate,” Nott called from behind him, deep voiced annoyed with his friend. He raises his brows at Malfoy. “Let’s go.”
He shrugs at his friends, sticking his hands into his pocket. He smirks at you, tongue coming to press into his cheeks. His cheeks are red from the cold (or, maybe, from his raging crush on you).
“I’ll see you around, L/N.”
“Screw you, Malfoy,” you sneer, hair whipping as you trudge up the hill to meet Hermione where she stands, looking at the pair of you with an unimpressed expression.
When you make it to her, you link your arms together again. You smile at her. “Shall we?”
Hermione rolls her eyes, but nods.
When the two of you begin to walking, you stick your tongue out over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of Malfoy still standing where he last stood, watching you.
Draco doesn’t bother trying to hide his smile.
not proofread 🥰
xx, lovey🫀
#draco malfoy#dracomalfoy#draco x reader#draco malfoy x reader#draco malfoy x you#draco malfoy x y/n#harry potter#harry potter x reader#theo nott x reader#hermione x reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
♯ 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒.
⊹ sypnosis. you’ve been teasing kento for too long and he finally shows you the side of him that you’ve yet had to discover. . .
⊹ tags. dom!kento nanami x female reader. smut. p in v -> unprotected, standing doggy, pussy slapping, uhm hand riding if that is a word, teasing, edging, hair pulling, size difference (srry im a slut), voice kink, bondage ?, degradation kinda too, mentions of creampies, change of positions at the near end. reader gets called ‘sweetheart, darling’.
⊹ note. recent jjk ep made me weak . inspired by the many nanami scenes ihihi got lazy at the end tho uhm only proof read half of it
“come here, sweetheart.” it didn’t sound like a request coming out of your lover’s mouth — it sounded like a rough demand.
kento was fed up with your little games. he’s a man of patience; knows how to keep himself calm and collected whenever you try to be a little brat and get him fired up about something.
but, when kento came home - already furious about an incident that took place during one of his missions - his patience was tested once more. you greeted him at the door with a short dress, one that allowed him to catch a glimpse of your ass.
your feigned innocence ignited a fire in his body. a desire that begged to take over; a desire to show you that he’s not playing along with your games today. especially when you knew what you did by avoiding his touches — whenever he’d reach out a hand to touch you, you’d run — wanting him to chase you around the house.
you succeeded, but not in the way you thought.
you glance back over your shoulder as you run to the hallway where the bedrooms were situated. you neared a dead end and let out a nervous giggle at your predicament. the slow, steady footsteps of your lover got closer and closer to you: kento was right around the corner.
“i said,” kento’s deep voice echoes throughout the empty apartment, your breath hitching in your throat as his intimidating presence makes it way up to the other side of the hallway, “come here.”
you needed to mentally stop yourself from letting out a quiet moan at just his voice. it never failed to make your panties wet on the spot. hell, you can’t even remember how many times your partner had made you cum from simply talking you through it.
your eyes were staring right back at kento’s. he was quietly walking towards you, taking all the time in the world. your back hits the wall softly as you stumble back, “kento, baby, ehhh—i was just joking around, i swear. . .”
kento doesn’t react at all. his facial expression stays the same, his scowl not disappearing in the slightest. he slowly rolls up the sleeves of his blue blouse and takes off his glasses. that was enough of an indication that he was indeed mad mad.
“you should’ve just did as i told you to,” kento sighs.
in the flash of an eye, the blonde man stood right in front of you. his body easily towered over yours, his eyebrows furrowed in a deep frown whilst his left hand reached out for your waist. kento held you there for a second before suddenly turning you around with force.
your chest presses against the wall in front of you. the only thing you were able to hear was both of your heavy breathing along with the sound of kento undoing his tie. you really didn’t know what you had just gotten yourself into.
“stay still like that for me.” kento mutters under his breath as he fumbles with his tie a little. he wasn’t in a rush to punish you, but he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t want to ruin your cunt as soon as possible.
he skilfully keeps your wrists together behind your back with his black dotted tie wrapped around them, “good. you need to be reminded of your place here.”
kento’s sultry voice rings in your ear as you tried to catch a glimpse of him from your peripherals, though your movements were a bit too restricted to fully turn back around. you didn’t even realise that you had been rubbing your thighs together to create some friction — wanting to satisfy your own lustful needs by just having your lover treat you like this.
it was a very rare sight to see kento this pissed off. you wanted to push his buttons some more to see where it’d take you tonight.
the blonde sorcerer mutters something incomprehensible under his breath once he sees what you were trying to get at. he ogled your lower body, one hand even coming down to turn the hem of your dress upwards, revealing the plump flesh of your ass to his eyes.
“didn’t know my girl was this smart,” kento comments in a quiet whisper, his warm breath fanning over the skin of your ear to your neck, “you seem to have prepared for this outcome beforehand. my compliments to you, darling.”
you were wearing his favourite panty of yours—the black lace and crotchless one. what a tease you were.
his fingers travel from your tied wrists to the inner area of your thighs. kento spreads them apart for you, using just his index and thumb to create a gap where his big hand would perfectly fit between. his rough fingers were already busy taking off your underwear,
you were silent. except for the few noises of both embarrassment and anticipation that left your throat. especially when you felt the cold air hit your exposed pussy, a small line of sticky wetness gathering between your lips due to the situation.
“what a naughty thing you are. . . hah.” kento shakes his head as if in disapproval. the more he talked, the more wet you got and the more you stuck your butt out towards his pelvis — clearly wanting to get fucked already.
your eyes widen as you get a reaction out of him; his callused palm makes direct contact with your entire cunt, however in the form of a firm slap. you couldn’t contain the squeal you let out.
“ngh, fuck!” you huff as your body tingled from the contact. kento cupped your pussy gently with one hand, the other patting your hip twice to encourage you to move and grind against his palm.
he wasn’t vocal with his orders anymore since his mind was too preoccupied with the sight of your body in front of him.
you didn’t even need to be told what to do. you instantly moved your hips in a grinding motion — the palm of kento’s hand warm to the touch. a few moans fill the air around you as you took great pleasure in riding his big hand.
“just like that — perfect.” kento praises you in a hushed voice. again, his gruff voice was almost enough to send you over the edge. it sounded more. . frustrated than it normally would. like he needed to release that tension in his body.
the tip of his index and middle finger tease your clit for a few seconds. you could’ve sworn that you saw white from just how good it felt. you couldn’t fathom how you’d survive his dick—if he were as nice as to give you it,
“please fuck me. please? need your cock in me so bad.” you shamelessly whimper all of your wants and needs to kento. he simply takes them all in with an unchanging expression as he keeps his gaze at your ass and not your eyes.
he knew that he’d give up any remaining restraints if he stared into your eyes. that pleading look you give him each time you beg him to take you never fails to do its job.
“patience, sweetheart, patience.” kento hums shortly whilst gently slapping your bare cunt thrice as a punishment for speaking up and making him ‘lose focus’,
he was entranced by the faint wet sounds your pussy was making against his palm. though, nothing compares to the skin-to-skin contact he was going to make with your ass once he gets to stuff you full of him.
“can’t — can’t, kento, pleas—” your desperate plea was cut off instantly as kento’s free hand moves to grab a handful of your hair. he tugs your head back harshly and makes you look at him to prove that he wasn’t joking or playing around anymore.
his eyes held an intense and almost condescending look in them. kento had never looked at you like that before or during your acts of intimacy; he’s always gazed upon you like you were the light of his life. right now it’s more like he’s staring at a. . . plaything. like he couldn’t wait to take out his frustrations on you and your delicious body that he craved so intensely.
his jaw clenches as he sees your lips part to protest again. that’s when you decide to shut up completely. you look away and gulp—this side of kento was surprising, yet also extremely arousing. especially with the way his buff body was almost enveloping all of yours.
the veins that ran down his arm as he grabbed your hair bulged out even more, as did the little veins in his neck. it sure is a sight that could get anyone wet, you think to yourself.
“mhm, good girl.” kento nods in satisfaction and slowly lets his grip on your hair slip, though not fully. you had nowhere to escape to - not that you wanted to - but the fact that your hands were tied and your body was pinned to the wall by your lover made you squirm in excitement.
kento uses the hand that was on your cunt to unbuckle his belt. that familiar sound made you tighten up around air as you tried to steal a glance at his hard-on.
as expected, kento’s cock stood up straight, pre-cum trickling down his pink circumcised tip, a vein apparent on the length. his fingers wrapped around his girth and he pumps his erection a few times before standing in position right behind you.
kento wouldn’t just push inside of you without edging you first. he smears his pre over your folds, running the tip from top to bottom, one hand spreading your buttocks nicely so he could get a good view of what he’s doing.
“use your words for me or i will not do anything.” the blonde man utters whilst teasing you with the head of his aching cock — he wanted to be buried deep inside of your walls already as well, however not without you begging him to.
his grip on your ass tightens and your hips push back towards his in response, “please—please put it in already— kento. .”
your whines were certainly working on the grade one sorcerer. a few of his blonde locks fell in front of his eyes, the hair he tried his best to keep neat now turning messy the moment he dipped his tip between your pussy lips.
you instantly tried to grip onto his cock—clenching around him like your life depended on it. kento grunts and pulls at your hair again as a warning not to repeat that action.
“you asked for this, sweetheart.” kento grunts. that deep grunt made you tighten up around his cock again, your sloppy cunt wanting to swallow it entirely already.
that sealed the deal—your lover couldn’t hold it in anymore, “don’t want to hear any complaints from that mouth of yours, understood? now—”
you didn’t even have time to react as kento thrusted his entire length into you at once. one fast thrust was all it took for you to arch your back and loll your tongue out slightly, lips parted to let out a moan, though nothing seemed to come out of your throat.
“take it. just take it for me, yeah?”
it wasn’t a question - once again - more of a demand. you mindlessly nod along and kento took that as a sign to keep ramming into your cunt repeatedly. his hands traveled down to your hips to keep you steady against the wall, urging you to push them towards his a little by putting a palm on the small of your back.
kento’s low groans of pleasure sound from behind you with every single in and out movement — his tip hitting near your cervix each time, making his rough motions both painful yet pleasurable. your mind was foggy, with only thoughts about his dick. it was visible to your lover that you had turned completely cock drunk in such a short span of time;
“look at you,” kento chuckles as one hand goes to harshly grab onto your jaw, turning your head to the side so he could see the dazed look in your eyes, “i haven’t even started yet, darling — come on. keep those pretty eyes open for me.”
his thrusts became almost unbearable as his frustrations were now apparent in his actions. the loud skin clapping noises fill the hallway, your ass coming in harsh contact with kento’s pelvis, the flesh jiggling—which kento doesn’t let go unnoticed.
he stops for a few seconds - just before you were about to reach your climax - which makes you groan out in disappointment. kento doesn’t mind this and just continues kneading your butt in his large hands, keeping his cock right in your tight cunt.
“since you were so desperate for it,” your lover whispers whilst letting his arms fall to his side, leaving you completely untouched with the only stimulation being his girth stretching you out, “you’ll have to work for it. come on.”
you let out a huff, but knew better than to complain when kento had given you a warning beforehand. ‘no complaints’, you repeat in your mind.
you move your lower body, fucking yourself back on his cock as kento stood there behind you — watching you desperately move your hips back and forth, his thick dick disappearing between your puffy folds, only to reappear again and again.
it was a sight that could make any man cum on spot. the way you were glancing back at him to watch his reactions added to the pleasure.
“mhm, i knew you could do it.” kento nods in approval, his jaw clenching as he felt his balls tighten up, already wanting to dump a load into your greedy pussy.
you felt his cock twitch slightly and saw how his hands formed fists at his side — the veins on his forearms once again visible to your eyes. it was such a hot scene and you didn’t know if you were able to hold on much longer.
kento notices this and stops your hips from moving. he wordlessly picks you up by the back of your knees, still making sure to keep his cock inside of you.
your back was pressed against his chiseled chest, your legs bent at your knees as your feet dangled in the air. you knew what was coming.
“no, no,” kento groans under his breath as he effortlessly keeps your body up against his—his dick twitching and begging for its release to be buried in your womb—
“hold it in for me. you only get to cum when i say you can, sweetheart.”
#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader#jjk smut#nanami x reader#nanami smut#jjk fic#jjk x you#nanami x you#nanami kento x reader#jjk fanfic#jjk x y/n#nanami fic#nanami x y/n
5K notes
·
View notes
Note
Could u do a tennis girl!reader x tom and she’s rlly good and playing at Wimbledon where tom comes and watches like the supportive boyfriend he is. Reader gets injured or something and the medics come on court and tend to her and the camera focuses on tom who is very worried. Maybe tom even gets to go on court and holds readers hand to comfort her and this makes fans go crazy. Love ur writing btw 🫶
When in Wimbledon || Tom Blyth x gf!reader
A/n: I LOVE WATCHING TENNIS!!! I actually went to Wimbledon this year and watched Emma Raducanu play so I made her the fc for this!!
Warnings: reader gets injured, idk what else
Wc: 808
Tom Blyth masterlist
divider by @pommecita
You feel a pair of strong hands wrap around your waist as a smile makes it to your lips, his familiar scent hitting your nose as you turn around. “I’m so happy you’re here,” You whisper in his neck, your hands wrapped snugly around him as he rubs your back.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, darling,” He grins, kissing your head before you go back to stretching with your coach. Tom watches as you stretch your limbs, preparing yourself for the match that was going to begin in 30 minutes.
You kiss your boyfriend goodbye, parting ways with him as it was your time to step out into court—Tom making his way to your player box where he would be seated beside your coach.
You step onto the pristine grass court at Wimbledon, the crowd buzzing with anticipation as you, a skilled tennis player, prepare for a crucial match. The familiar scent of freshly cut grass and the echo of applause surround you.
Tom’s eyes were fixated on you the whole time, his applaud more louder and enthusiastic than everyone else’s. The match unfolds, and you dominate the court with your powerful serves and agile movements. The spectators erupt into cheers with every successful point you score.
Tom can’t help but smile, his eyes filled with pride as he watches you play. The atmosphere is electric, and you can feel the energy of the crowd propelling you forward.
As the match progresses, you’re in top form, moving gracefully and hitting the ball with precision. Tom’s enthusiastic cheers blend with the crowd’s roars. And in a split second—in a misstep—your ankle gives out on you, tripping over and landing on your wrist, the anguish shooting through your body, a light scream leaving your lips.
The crowd falls into a hushed silence as you crumple to the ground, clutching your injuries, your breathing deep and harboured. The medics rush onto the court, their urgency reflected in the worried expressions of the spectators.
Tom’s face tightens with concern as he leans forward in his seat, his eyes never leaving you. “Fuck,” Joseph, your coach whispers to himself, his hands rubbing his forehead. The camera captures the worry etched on Tom’s face, and the entire audience holds its breath, collectively hoping for your well-being.
The medics examine you, carefully tending to your injured wrist and ankle as they move you to your seat. The pain was unbearable, and you fight back tears, knowing that this might mark the end of your season.
Tom watches with a pained expression, unable to hide his concern. Your coach stands from his seat, your seat was close enough to the players box that you could hear Joseph’s words of encouragement, but it’s Tom who steals the spotlight with his genuine worry and love for you.
Your entire body was shaking as one hand covers your face, tears brimming your eyes. You wanted Tom. You needed him by your side. You knew he would calm you down straight away. “Tom. I want my boyfriend here,” You hold one of the medics arm as he looks at you before nodding, talking into his radio.
In a heartwarming moment, the officials allow Tom to come onto the court. He rushes to your side, his face a mix of anxiety and determination. A sigh of relief escapes your lips as he gently takes your hand, “It’s okay, I’m here sweetheart, you’re going to be okay,” he offers words of comfort that only you can hear. His touch and soothing words calm your racing heart as you struggle to come to terms with the potential impact on your season.
The crowd watches in awe as Tom’s support becomes a beacon of reassurance amid the uncertainty. His caring gesture elicits a collective “aww” from the fans, who can’t help but admire the bond you share. Social media lights up with admiration for Tom’s devotion to you.
As the medics continue their evaluation, the reality sinks in—this might be a significant setback. Your eyes meet Tom’s, and he offers a gentle smile, silently promising to be there through thick and thin. The disappointment is palpable, but the gratitude for Tom’s unwavering support tempers the pain.
The medics advise you to withdraw from the match and seek further medical attention. Tom helps you stand, supporting your weight as you limp off the court. The crowd, initially filled with the thrill of competition, now applauds the display of resilience and love.
You give them a weak smile and wave as Tom remains by your side. When you step into your locker room, Tom assists you with a supportive arm around your shoulders. The pain is intense, but his presence provides a comforting distraction.
Your coach walks in as he engulfs you in a hug. “You’ll be okay, y/n. It’s a setback for sure, but you’ll be okay,” he comfortingly says to you as he hands you a water bottle to which your gratefully take.
You were taken to hospital, Tom still by your side as he held your hand. “You’ll be off for a few months, Y/n,” The doctor gives you a sympathetic smile as you nod your head, tears already blurring your sight.
The second the doctor left leaving you and Tom alone. You broke down in tears. He gave you a hug, whispering reassuring things in your ear. As you sobbed. Your season had been going so incredibly well until now. But you were grateful that Tom had been by your side during the entirety of it.
Y/n_Y/l/n
Liked by tomblyth, wimbledon, rachelzegler, josephmccarty and 8,307,253 others
before wimbledon vs. after wimbledon 🥲 it pains me the I have to miss out on the other half of this tennis season and I tried to downplay the issue so I thank all my fans who continued to support me during this difficult time. I’d like to thank all my close friends and family for being by my side during all of this. I love each and every single one of you 💗
view all comments
tomblyth: you’re so strong ml ❤️
↘️ y/n_y/l/n: I love you.
josephmmcarty: you’ll come back stronger than ever 💪
user92: I was there watching the match live and when I saw tom jumping the gate and rush to her, my heart melted 😭
user10: hope you heal quickly y/n!!!
user56: her and tom are literally so wholesome 🥹 when he was holding her hand when she was in pain, i swear i died of of how wholesome the moment was
user01: such a shame, she was doing so well this season!!! Get better y/n :)
#fanfiction#tom blyth#tom blyth imagine#tom blyth x reader#the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes#tom blyth x gf!reader#tom blyth angst#tom blyth x you#tom blyth fanfiction#tom blyth fluff#tennis player#coriolanus snow#the hunger games#coriolanus snow fanfiction#young coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow imagine#the hunger games x reader#social media imagine#social media au#emma raducanu#coryo snow#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus x you#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#tbosas imagine#tbosas#soft!tom blyth#tom blyth the man you are
756 notes
·
View notes
Text
bakugou was the type of boyfriend who always put you first. any lingering eyes that explored your form in their minds were set straight, to say the least. your favorite moments with him were the ones that just had the two of you.
yes, you loved that late nights he’d spend rubbing gentle circles on your clit in the darkness of your room whilst whispering dirty words into your ear. you lived for his hands squeezing your hips and his tongue digging deep into your cunt.
you also loved the nights where you’d pass out on the couch waiting for him to come home from hero work, and you’d wake up around 1 a.m. to him lifting you up like his sweet, precious doll, and bringing you to your shared bed. he’d always take care to wrap you up first and adjusting your pillows how he knows you like them.
after he’d make sure you were good and comfortable, he’d gently get into bed right next to you and wrap an arm around your waist, spooning you from behind.
your eyes fluttered open for a moment, and we’re met with the complete darkness of the room. you could faintly smell bakugou’s cologne and you could feel his breath on your neck.
“kats?” you muttered tiredly, backing up further into his chest. his hand caressed your head and brushed a few strands of hair behind your ear. you melted into his touch as tired butterflies erupted in your chest.
“i’m here, baby. go to sleep, my love.” he said in your ear, planting a few kisses on your neck, jaw, and cheek. he squeezed you into him even closer, and you giggled.
“can you even breathe, kats?” you asked, turning around slightly to only see the outline of his face from within the darkness.
“mhm,” he muffled a reply with a low chuckle.
you pulled your head away in attempt to help him breathe, but he took a large hand and pulled you closer once more. “stop moving awayyy,” he hummed.
“kats, i know you can’t breathe with my hair all in ya face stop lying,” you laughed, still sleepy. he shook his head and breathed in the scent of your fresh shampoo.
he lived for moments like this, and so did you. his heart was now beating at 90 mph in his chest, the sound of your gentle laughter filling him with a rush of serotonin. he loved you more than the world, but his job as a pro-hero was time consuming. he wished he could spend more time with you, but there’s not much he can do to change his random schedules.
“i’m fine.. now sleep baby,” he muttered into your head, getting sleepy himself.
you hummed in response, drifting away once more into his arms.
“but wait,” he said after a moment, “i love you,” he added. a smile appeared on your tired expression. you looked back and planted a droopy kiss onto his lips.
“i love you more… and back up because i know you can’t breathe you liar.” you joked more. he ignored your protests and nuzzled further into your warmth.
“who says i need to breathe to live? as long as i have you i’m fine.”
quick lil bakugou fluff 💕 i’m obsessed w this man.
#mha#mha smut#bakugou#mha bakugou#mha x reader#anime#bnha bakugo katsuki#bakugou fanfiction#bakugou fluff#bakugou x reader#dynamight#dynamight x reader#bakugou katsuki#katsukibakugou#katsuki x y/n#bakugou x you#bakugou drabble#katsuki bakugo mha#katsuki bakugo oneshot#katsuki bakugou x reader#i love him i love him i love him i love him#bakugou imagine#katsuki imagine#mha fluff#mha headcanons#mha fanfiction#mha spoilers#bnha smut#bnha fluff#bnha fanfiction
2K notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
ziva-david
that is total salami!
thesouldevourer
Soul Devourer
theaphol
The APhOL
an-unoriginal-username-yep
An Blog