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spaceyaceface · 10 months

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You Were The First

Ominis Gaunt x f!Reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Summary: Ominis Gaunt has never known affection. He has never known how it felt to love---to be loved. She came and changed all of it.

Or, Ominis gets love because by god does he deserve it.

Warnings: Mentions/Implications of child abuse

God, I loved writing this. Thank you so much for the request, anon!

When Ominis Gaunt fell in love, he fell slowly.

It was all the little things she did—the little things that made up who she was. Her kindness. Her patience. Her touch.

Before meeting her, touch meant nothing but pain. It was kicking and screaming as his mother dragged him along by his arm, harsh shoves from uncaring hands toppling to the ground, a cruel hand curled over his own, taking any control he might have and forcing a curse out of him.

He’d been avoiding it ever since. Even Sebastian and Anne knew his aversion, careful not to grab him or brush against him.

But somehow, she made his walls come tumbling down.

Perhaps he started to fall that first time she saved him a seat at breakfast.

It was one of the first breakfasts of their sixth year—the Great Hall was bustling, students running back and forth to catch up with friends and share adventures from over the summer. That was exactly what Sebastian was doing; he could hear his friend’s loud laugh as he spoke to someone at the Hufflepuff table. He’d expected her to be doing the same, her popularity as the Hero of Hogwarts was unmatched. Surely everyone would want to know what she’d been up to.

He’d just settled on the idea of grabbing an apple off the table and leaning against the wall well out of harm’s way when a voice called out to him. Her voice.

“Ominis! Ominis, right here, I’ve saved a seat for you!”

His mouth fell open—just slightly. “You… you saved a seat…?”

“Yes, now get over here before Sebastian barrels past and steals it, I wouldn’t put it past him,” she said, smile obvious in her voice.

And so he obliged.

He settled down on the bench, all thoughts of retreating to some far corner vanishing as she began to rattle on about her summer. In turn, he answered all her questions about his own time, best he could with the way his head was spinning. Of everyone in the school, she had saved a spot for him. She allowed him to take all her time, steal away every morsel of her attention. There was a lightness that came with that thought. A warm feeling he couldn’t quite name—not yet.

But now that he’d felt it, he knew he’d starve for it.

The next step into his descent was the first time she placed her hand on his arm.

Herbology was always a bit chaotic—not nearly as much as Potions, no thanks to a certain Gryffindor—but chaotic nonetheless. Professor Garlick had laid out all the necessary tools and supplies on each table, and after her brief explanation on how to prune and shape the plants in front of them, she set them loose.

Sebastian stood to Ominis’s right, grabbing some small cutters and starting on his plant quickly.

“Sebastian, you’re making a mess of it already. She said to start from the top and go down, didn’t you hear a word she just said?” a voice said from his left.

Ominis chuckled. “Since when has Sebastian ever been one to listen to anything?” He reached forward, grabbing his own cutters. He heard his friend grumble under his breath. “Don’t pout, you know I’m right.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not offended by it,” Sebastian said.

“You’re offended by everything, Seb,” she said.

“What is this? Attack Sebastian Sallow Day?”

“No, but I’d be an avid celebrator if there was such a thing.”

As Sebastian continued mumbling complaints, he felt it—her hand, just barely resting on his arm. “Sorry,” she said softly, leaning forward and across the table. “I’m just grabbing the fertilizer.” And then her touch was gone.

It was nothing. Just a simple indication that she was there, making sure a blind man didn’t accidentally stab her with a sharp object. And yet it felt… different, somehow. His skin was tingling as he tried to resume his work with the plant. It was only later he realized that, unlike so many times others had made a similar motion, he hadn’t flinched or pulled away.

In spite of himself, he sort of wished she would do it again.

He came to a realization the first time she explained a Quidditch match to him.

The realization was thus—she was even more kind than anyone he’d ever met. It was her very first match, and she had been elated to attend after Professor Black had announced the continuation of the sport at the beginning of the year. Normally, Ominis wouldn’t care too much about it. He rarely went to matches in previous years, only being dragged along by Sebastian when Slytherin was up in the running to take the cup. Crowds weren’t his thing. And trying to understand anything that was going on based solely off the oohing and ahhing of a crowd gave him a headache. But this year, Sebastian was making his debut as Slytherin’s Keeper, and that paired with her excitement to see the match was enough to draw him out to the stands.

They sat next to each other, nestled into the crowd of Slytherins eagerly anticipating the game. He could only imagine how high up they were—there had been plenty of stairs to indicate it was nothing insignificant. The breeze that high up was cooler, and Ominis was grateful for it, allowing himself to focus on it instead of the people pressing in all around him.

But when the match started, his focus shifted entirely to the soft voice next to him.

In the past, he had always found the commentary on the match entirely unhelpful, and even more uninteresting. He could never get a picture of what was going on—the announcer would always press opinions on players and use the names of the different plays, which was ridiculous because Ominis had no clue what any of the plays meant.

She, on the other hand, explained it all wonderfully.

She wasn’t perfect—not even close, stumbling over words and gasping at times when an action surprised her. But for the first time, Ominis could follow. He found himself cheering, breath catching as he heard the whoosh of a broom overhead. The tone and expression in her voice was so lively, so dedicated, he wanted to take part in it.

“Weasley’s flying fast toward the goals,” she commented. “Blimey, he should be Seeker with that speed. Imelda’s flown into his path, he’s going to crash—No, he dodged her, straight over her head—he’s throwing the Quaffle, come on Seb—YES!”

He let out a cry of celebration as his friend beside him whooped and hollered, cheering loudly for Sebastian. It wasn’t long until they won the match, and the crowd of Slytherins roared like a raging sea. He followed her out of the stands and into the common room, where a party was already commencing. Sebastian managed to break away from his adoring fans. The Hero of Hogwarts leapt up and nearly pushed him over in a wild embrace. Sebastian laughed.

“You were wonderful out there!” she said, pulling away.

Ominis could hear the grin in his friend’s voice. “I couldn’t let your first match be a disappointment, now could I?” His feet shifted, turning to Ominis. “And really, Ominis, thank you for coming. I know Quidditch isn’t your favorite.”

“If I’m honest, I rather enjoyed myself,” he said. He nodded his head toward her beside him. “This one has a knack for explaining the game. She told me enough that I can sincerely say, well played.”

“Then seems like you’ll have to go to all of the matches together,” Sebastian said.

Ominis frowned. “Well, I wouldn’t want to impose on—”

“No, I like that idea,” she said. His heart beat a bit faster. “I want you to be able to enjoy it just as much as the rest of us, Ominis.”

He couldn’t stop smiling the rest of the night. When Sebastian asked about it, he blamed it on having too much Butterbeer.

When he let her lead him by his arm that very first time, he knew he trusted her.

He’d known for a while—but now, through his actions, he had admitted it to her. To himself.

Winter had set in. The two of them left the Three Broomsticks, bundled up and ready for the cold. He reached for his wand, pausing when he heard her speak up beside him.

“Your hand is going to freeze holding it out like that all the way to the castle. I can lead you, if you’d like.”

He pondered it for a moment—only a moment—and then he gave in.

“If you think it’ll keep me from getting frostbite.”

He sucked in a breath as her arm looped around his. How had she done it so gently? After a second, when he’d begun to breathe properly, he nodded. “Off we go, then.”

It was strange, how he had surrendered so easily. When he had first gotten his wand, the world finally felt livable. He no longer had to shuffle around, arms outstretched, waiting for his brothers to jump out at him. He could fend for himself. Prove his independence. There was no longer a need to rely on anyone.

Why did he rely so effortlessly on her?

The truth came to him with a sudden thought as she took him through the streets, navigating expertly through the throng of students returning to the castle. He trusted her. She had always looked out for him. Cared when he felt no one else did. She made efforts to be around him, to involve him, even when he tried to push away. Ominis Gaunt did not trust easily. But she had proved herself worthy of that sentiment in every turn.

The slight tug of her arm in his jolted him back to that moment. “We’re at the stairs,” she said quietly. “There’s six of them.”

He’d trust her with his life.

They seemed to walk closer and closer together as the castle drew nearer. It was the cold, he told himself. Just the instinctual craving for warmth drawing their sides together. Simple as that.

But they still walked arm in arm through the halls of Hogwarts, leaving the excuse of the chill and snow far behind them.

The first time she held his hand, he finally felt alive.

Their sixth years had come to a close and the Hogwarts Express was waiting to take them home. They’d spend the last few months in what he considered bliss. They stopped looking for excuses to take each other's arms at some point—just letting it happen. Strolls on the castle ground. Between classes. Anywhere and everywhere they went together. Sebastian teased them a bit at the action, but Ominis claimed it was just easier than using his wand. He didn’t have to concentrate on a spell while walking about. It was true—but really, it hadn’t been inconvenient the five years before that, had it?

But now his dear friend gave a low sigh beside him. “This crowd is awful,” she said, glowering at the students around them. “I don’t know how we’re going to make it on the train in time.”

“I’m sure we’ll be—”

He stopped mid sentence, feeling her fingers interlock with his.

“I think I see a path, come on now.”

She nearly tipped him over as she pulled him along. He managed to remember how to walk just in time to catch himself, allowing her to lead him through the hustle and bustle around them. How did this feel so entirely different than being led by her arm? How could he only focus on how soft the skin of her knuckles felt under his thumb? How could he feel like he was dreaming, but never felt more aware in the same moment?

They stopped in front of the train, doors open before them. She didn’t let go. Neither did he. But the train let out a whistle, and the sound brought him back in an instant. Their hands dropped, and the loss of the intimate feeling of her fingers between his knocked the air out him like the perfect Depulso.

“We made it,” she said softly.

“Barely.”

She laughed. He might as well have been a fish for how much he was struggling to breathe. “I’ll see you soon,” she said, voice softening.

“I wish I could say the same,” he said, smirking. He felt her hit his arm, stifling a laugh.

“You’re awful.”

“You’re the one who laughed.”

“Goodbye, Ominis,” she said, still chuckling. After a moment, she spoke again, a little quieter. “I’ll write you.”

His stomach flipped. “I’ll hold you to it.”

Then she was gone, taking part of him with her.

He knew he was in love the moment he got her first letter.

What was it some fool had once said? Absence makes the heart grow fonder? What a load of dung.

Absence made the heart ache so much it nearly killed him. And it had only been a day.

He knew it was from her the moment the lingering scent of her perfume hit him. He smiled. She kept her word—he had never doubted she would. He was just relieved she had done so so soon.

Quickly, he pulled out his wand and transfigured the words on the parchment, running his fingers over them. He paused where she had written his name. Every letter filled him with warmth as he poured over the short letter.

Dear Ominis,

I realize we only saw each other yesterday, but I wanted to assure you it wasn’t an empty promise when I said I would write you.

I really don’t have too much to share—my mother was more than pleased to see me, of course. Wailed when I came home as if I’d come back from the dead. She’s still not used to me being away for so long. I’ve just begun unpacking, and honestly, it just makes me wish I was back at Hogwarts with you and Sebastian.

How are you? I do hope you’re alright. I worry about you going home, you know. I can’t help it. I’ll be inviting both you and Sebastian to my home as soon as I’m settled in—please do survive until then.

Yours,

He closed his eyes as he felt her name beneath his fingertips. She was worried about him. She’d be inviting him. The warmth and elation he felt was so unlike the cold halls that surrounded him. He could survive—he’d do it for her.

How she could make him feel happiness—hope—in a house so tainted with pain was beyond him. He never would he have thought he could have a moment of something good there, a memory worth keeping after he abandoned the place.

Finally, he had a name for that warmth, the one that overtook him every time she crossed his thoughts. Love. Deep, profound, and lasting. It was more than he could have imagined, overwhelming and pure. How could he have lived to this point without it?

He read the letter once more before pulling out his quill and beginning to write.

The first time he thought she might feel the same coincided with the first time she laid her head on his shoulder.

She had kept yet another of her promises. It was only a couple of weeks before he was off to her house, finally free from the suffocating marble halls of the manor. His escape lasted only for ten days, but it gave him what he needed to keep going.

Though being with her was definitely what fueled him the most.

Laughing with her and Sebastian made the stress of being around his parents melt off of him much faster than he would have imagined. Their ten days had been full of exploring the woods around her house, of playing Gobstones, of laying in fields and telling old stories.

Ten days of her hand brushing his as they sat together. Ten days of catching his breath when she spoke. Ten days of falling harder than he ever thought possible.

Because now that he knew what it was he was feeling, it was there in everything she did. He was drowning in it, and he’d stay under with a smile on his face.

Sebastian bid them farewell on that final evening. Ominis would be gone back home in the morning—he tried desperately to push that thought away, focusing instead on spending every moment with her he could. They’d wandered to the overgrown park not far from her home, coming to rest on a bench hidden away in the trees. Crickets sang around them, and Ominis basked in the cool summer night by her side.

“Are you going to be ok when you go back?” Her voice was hardly more than a whisper.

He gave a small smile, one he hoped was reassuring. “I’ve lived this long. Two more months will be nothing.”

She sighed. “It won’t be a full two months. I’ll make sure of it. If you can’t come here again, we’ll go to Sebastian’s.”

“You worry about me too much.”

“I think I worry just enough,” she stated simply.

Her words made his chest time. How could he ever begin to explain what they meant to him? She cared for him. It was enough to shatter him if he let it. He couldn’t say what he wanted to—not yet. He’d find a way, someday. But he told her what he could by reaching for her hand, locking their fingers together. And when she leaned into his side, head coming to rest on his shoulder, maybe, maybe, that was her way of saying she understood.

His stiff body slowly relaxed against hers, and he thought about nothing but the slow draws of her breath, the way her hair tickled against his jaw, the love he felt for the angel of the girl sitting pressed against him.

The first time she held him he fell apart.

Their little trio had stayed up late in celebration of their last school year, playing Exploding Snap well into the night. The Undercroft echoed their joyous sounds as the hours passed by, until Sebastian pulled himself away, saying he wanted to pay a visit to the Restricted Section for old time’s sake. It wasn’t long until she and Ominis were saying their goodnights to each other.

It had been a perfect last first day, exactly what he’d needed after spending so much time at the manor. He’d left for what he was determined to be the last time. There was no better way to celebrate.

He could think of no better way of ending it than saying goodnight to the girl he loved.

“Goodnight,” he said softly, a small smile on his lips.

“God, I missed you,” she breathed. “Goodnight, Ominis.”

But before he could open the door, her arms wrapped around his chest.

The result was immediate. His heart raced, and his throat grew tight. He couldn’t breath—how could he, with her holding him so tightly? Her head was against his chest, and for a split second he was afraid she might pull away when she heard the pound of it. It was that moment of fear that brought his arms around her, holding her to him like he had nothing left.

It felt like dying when she pulled away from him. She sucked in a breath. “Ominis, are you alright?”

“What… what do you—”

“You’re crying.”

She was right. He felt the tears, now, traitorously running down his face. He quickly brought up the sleeve of his robe to wipe them away.

“Is it something I did? I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

“No,” he said quickly. “No, you’ve done nothing wrong.” He took a shuddering breath. “I just… You’re the first person who’s ever…”

Ever what? There were a million ways he could finish that sentence, and all would be true. The first who had ever held me. The first who has ever cared so deeply. The first to touch him with nothing but kindness. She was the first person to break down his walls, to give him life, to let him love and be loved.

Somehow, she seemed to understand his silence. She took him into her arms once more, and he let himself come crashing down. Sobs worked their way through—both sadness and joy mingled together in an utter mess of emotion. How could he have gone his whole life without this? Without feeling safe, without outstretched arms to run to? But he had found it. A person he could call his home, who would hold him when he fell apart. He was grateful. So grateful.

They never went back up to their dorms that night.

He was determined today would be the first time he kissed her.

Since that night in the Undercroft, every touch between them felt natural. Part of their beings. He came to her effortlessly, letting his arms pull her to him. His hand felt foreign when it wasn’t in hers. But yet, he had yet to confess the depths of his feelings for her.

He knew exactly why—she was patient. They’d started this whole thing nearly two years ago now. She’d always gone at his pace, waiting for him to be ready for each new step. They didn’t need to say the words. It was obvious to both of them. But Merlin, he wanted to.

She needed to know just how much she meant to him. The joy she brought into his life without even trying. It had been a long time coming, but now, he was ready.

He’d taken her out to Hogsmeade. It was the perfect spring day—cool breeze carrying the scent of Butterbeer clear out of the Three Broomsticks. The sun was just beginning to set, and they were on course to return to the castle when he stopped her.

“Could I take you somewhere?” he said softly.

“Of course,” she said, a little perplexed. He smiled, taking out his wand to guide the both of them, other hand still in hers. He led them down a path, then turned sharply into the woods. The trail he followed was light barely there, mostly grown over by foliage. But he heard the sound of the creek and knew he was close.

The trees gave way into a small opening, the melody of water trickling just beyond it. He smiled.

“It’s lovely,” she said.

“Good. I hoped it would be.” His wand returned to his pocket, and he took both her hands, facing her.

It was her turn for her breath to catch. It was only fair after all the times he’d done so because of her. Did he look as lovesick as he felt?

“You are everything to me, do you know that?” he said softly. His hand reached up, following the curve of her neck up to her jaw, where it came to rest. “Everything.”

“Ominis…”

The way she breathed his name sent shivers through him. And her breath on his lips—Merlin, how had he waited so long?

“I love you.”

He didn’t give her a chance to respond—he’d let her say it soon enough. But he needed to prove himself to her, show her just what he meant when he said everything. His lips came crashing down against hers, and at that moment he decided every second not spent kissing her was a second wasted. Like everything about her, she was gentle. She was warm. She was soft. Like everything about her, he couldn’t get enough. He thought he’d give her a chaste kiss, but he was only a man, and a starving one at that.

He only pulled away when his lungs felt like they would burst, and his chest heaved under her resting hand.

“I love you,” she said, voice hoarse. “God, I love you.”

He decided that night would be the second time he kissed her, too.

After that he lost count.

#ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x you #ominis x mc #ominis x reader #ominis x y/n #hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt imagine

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luveline · 7 months

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jade if I’m not too late and requests are still open, can you write bombshell!reader and spence’s first kiss? secretly I think it would be funny if the team saw a hickey on her neck or something that she didn’t expect but oh how I love how soft she is for spence

ty for your request ♡ fem, 1.2k

"It's classic, comfortable anger-excitation," you say, hitting the flat of your ballpoint pen against your fingertip, a repetitive tap. "But his geographical profile is everywhere. No one place is untouched, but if he's as practised as we think he is, he'd kill away from home."

"Then he's not practised, he's an expert," Hotch says in the seat beside you. "He knows to divert our attention."

Your tapping increases. Spencer takes a few steps back and puts his hand over yours. You glance up at him. He mimes a deep breath for you to copy. You do it without complaint.

You're so focused on being perfect that sometimes you forget to breathe. You're very good at being perfect, in Spencer's opinion, perfect hair, perfect face, perfect frenetic hands. And you're doubly perfect at whatever this is, smiling at him with an unquantifiable emotion in what's probably the prettiest set of eyes on planet Earth.

Spencer puts your pen on your notebook and goes back to his board. The locations of each murder are tacked into a map. You weren't kidding when you said everywhere.

You're in one of the poorest places in America, and the police station reflects that. There's no conference room for you guys to work undisturbed, and the beat cops and deputy alike can hear and see everything you're doing. Most have the manners to leave you alone, but you're you; you tend to draw attention.

You've taken up the pen again, clicking and unclicking incessantly. It's an annoying sound but you're not aware that you're doing it, too determined on cracking the case before anything worse happens. Your team knows to ignore you, or even to disarm you. Emily snags the pen from your hand with a friendly laugh. "Jesus, you're tightly wound today."

"Mm," you murmur, struggling to pull yourself from your notes. A few more seconds and you look up with a blinding smile, "That's because Spencer skimped on my neck massage last night."

"Come on, pretty boy," Morgan says, though his heart isn't truly in it, "I thought you knew better."

Spencer shakes his head. You and Spencer had very separate hotel rooms and no sensual touching occurred, but he loves how happy this running joke makes you, so he stays quiet.

"He knows everything," you say, backtracking, "That's why he's gonna make me a cup of coffee. He knows exactly how I like it."

He leaves to make you a cup of coffee, but he was heading that way anyway for his own. He's thinking to himself that coffee is a bad idea and that he wishes he was better at saying no to you when you follow him in, your arms already open as you close the two or three steps to his chest and hug him over the shoulders.

"You didn't say anything when you left," you worry, your embrace overwhelming, sweet and soft and with a loving squeeze to round it off. "I wasn't being bossy, was I?"

You can be, but not this time. "Shut up, you know I'll make you a cup of coffee whenever you want it."

"That so?" you ask.

There's an excess energy you haven't managed to kick today racing through you. He can see the restlessness in your smile, no matter how glitzy.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

Spencer's poorly kept secret is that he's obsessed with you. You dote on him, you tease him, you torture him, but Spencer wants all of it and more. He likes being the centre of your attention, loves how your fond flirtation has changed to plain affection, and he would do anything you asked him to if it meant you were gonna kiss his cheek at the end. He thinks you're beautiful and electric and a thousand yards out of his league, and he thinks you're the nicest woman they ever made under all your bravado because not once have you encouraged that line of thought —you like him for him. You don't want him to change. You don't need anything from him he can't give to you.

His simple question transforms you, your glossy lips perking immediately into a smile. "Why wouldn't I be okay?"

"You seem tense. I've never given a massage before, but I can actually try," he offers.

Your hand cups his cheek, your voice aglow with a saccharine quality, "You're lovely, that's why. Maybe I'll take you up on it later–"

"It's not like–"

You'd been attempting a sweet thank you, and Spencer was brushing it off, but somewhere in the middle of it you'd gone up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Spencer —idiot, uncoordinated, inexperienced, is going to hate himself later Spencer— turned away from your touch to argue with you, directing your lips against his.

Soft, sticky, pretty lips pressed to his.

You set back on your heels quickly. Your eyes are wide, beautiful but flared in shock, a sheepishness tugging your brows together as you say, "I'm so sorry."

"It's my fault," he says quickly, braceleting your wrist in his hand, "I'm sorry–"

You both lean back in for a second kiss at the same time. Spencer's head angled down and your chin tipped ever so slightly upward, you close your eyes as he closes his, completely silent. It's not often you're quiet. Spencer doesn't mean to, but he kisses too hard, too much, forcing your hand from his cheek as he grabs you either side of the head to keep you in his reach.

Your breath comes out in a huff that lights his nerve endings on fire, the barest hint of your voice tacked to it like a sigh of relief, like you're taking the edge off in the circle of his arms. Spencer's hand slides behind your head to hook you in, your lips parting at the seam from the pressure. You feel the heat of him and respond with vigour, your hand a nagging demand at the small of his back, pulling him closer, closer, as his other hand trails down your arm.

Your elbow bumps the coffee mugs, it really is his fault, and you spring away from him like you think you've been caught. Smiling, a kid with her hand in the cookie jar, you throw your gaze around the room to check you're still alone before stepping forward to laugh against his mouth.

That's a good sound. A great reaction. You have more patience than Spencer, dotting kisses thick with lip gloss up into his top lip, your mouth just open enough for him to feel faint.

"It was really an accident," he says between shorter, kinder kisses.

"I know," you murmur, words smushed. You steal a last rather frantic one before you stop, breathing funny, hands smoothing down the hair you'd mussed initially with sorry tenderness. "Was that okay?"

He puts his hand on your hip, refusing to gratify what feels like a silly question with a response when you can't not know he's been wanting to kiss you for weeks. Maybe months. "Are you sure you're fine?"

You smile at him like you know something he doesn't. "I'm sure, Spence. I think I just needed to do that."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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bonny-kookoo · 4 months

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THAT WAS A COCKBLOCKING ENDING AAH mommy could you pretty please give a continuation to that drabble

To distract everyone from sad life rn. Very much nsfw.

He's on his back on the bed, hands pulling you closer by your legs, helping you crawl over his face, knees digging into the mattress below right next to his head.

"I've got the world's best view right now.." he chuckles breathlessly, hands on your thighs, touching the warm skin. "Come down a little- yeah like that.." he eagerly instructs, before he licks up into you, while you brace yourself against the headboard of his bed. He's bought a bigger one a few months ago because you sleep over so much- and soon, it'll be because you permanently stay here with him.

But right now, that's not on your mind, as he moves his head a little to dip his tongue into your core, nose nudging against your sensitive pearl.

Sucking him off always gets you all hot and bothered as well, after all. He's got a nice looking cock, and he sounds even better when you're doing it just right- be it with your mouth, or your hands, or your tits- or your thighs, one of his personal favorites. He's always been quite vocal about how much he likes them, lives to grab them or just run his hands over them. There's no room for insecurity with him.

"Kook-!" You gasp out when he sucks at you, hands moving to spread you out for him better, tip of his tongue drawing circles around your clit before he flattens it, and runs it over. He urges you to move, but you're not sure about that. "No- what if I'll suffocate you?"

"Then I'll die a happy man's death." He laughs, drunk off of the whole energy of it all. "Come on, please! I wanna see you all fucked out, princess." He whines in complaint, and you slowly start to grind over him, earning a happy hum from him below, his piercing on his lower lip feeling a bit odd sometimes.

Slowly, you become more sensitive. More needy.

You don't even notice the way you're using him to get off, his tongue and nose and the way he occasionally sucks just too good to really help you think straight. It's when you near your orgasm that you try and slow down, always a bit hesitant because you tend to become quite loud, but Jungkook isn't having it.

His grip on your upper thighs becomes stronger, pushes you down on him where he gives it his all, licking you up quickly past the edge, making your muscles tremble.

Because he doesn't stop, but instead pushes you further- right into a new race to the finish line.

The moment he realizes you're struggling to hold yourself up, he helps you lay down instead, a hand sloppily wiping his face before he leans in to kiss you, uncaring about the filth of it all. His hand pumps him ready, makes him aim at your core before he slips right in, pace hard and fast right from the start. He's mindless, especially when your mouth falls open and eyes close, hands gripping the sheets above your head while he watches in fascination how your white foamy essence covers the base of his cock, balls slapping against you with every thrust of his hips.

He wants more.

His kisses are all tongue and shared breaths, biting your lip and having you tug on his piercings just because, as he slams himself in deep as he can go. You're seeing stars, quite literally, eyes blind as your orgasm hits you a lot faster than anticipated, causing you to be unable to do anything but whimper out, voice interrupted by his never faltering pace.

And he cums, too, spurting whatever he's got left inside you, breathing heavily as he stays in place for a second, before he moves just a bit, gently this time. You're sweating, both of you are, but he's not ready to call it quite yet, even though his own legs are wet with your most recent peak of pleasure.

You're slurring out his voice, drunk off of it all, as he rocks his hips more slowly, sloppily, dick slipping out every now and then, having to be lead back in by his hand, your core gaping whenever he's leaving it unoccupied. His own cum covers his length, helps in lubrication as the bed rocks, hinges ready protesting loudly.

He'll buy a new bed, who cares.

His body begins to protest, shuddering at his upcoming release, making him uncoordinated as he keeps pushing back in and out, whining out his own pleasure before his hand sloppily rubs over your swollen bud, bringing you a more gentle last release as well, clenching around him as he pulls you in, and falls to the bed next to you, adjusting your legs to stay inside you.

"Koo.. m' all gross.." you whine quietly, but he shuts you up with drunken kisses, hands on your body caressing your skin.

To him, this isn't gross at all. It could never be.

To him, this is love.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #bts smut #bts jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook imagines #jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook fanfic #bts jeon jungkook imagine

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livinghostly · 3 months

Text

hey there, sunshine — suguru geto x reader

a/n: not in love w this !! but couldn't get the idea out of my brain when i was trying to sleep. was also intended to be for choso but got too ooc sooooo wc: 2.3k yet another date didn't work out for you, and your roommate bears the burden of listening to all your complaints. he also may or may not have a crush on you. fluff/humor

the soft orange of the painted sky poured through your blinds, slipping through the cracks and almost deliberately shining down on your eyes that just barely peeked beneath your comforter. your curtains waved back and forth with the fan, soft whirrs that once lulled you to sleep now drawing you from your slumber with a ragged groan. far gone was the fulfillment of your soothing dreams, your memories running farther and farther away as you tried to recall them and sink yourself back into that peace of mind.

you screwed your eyes shut in defense from the harsh rays of the sun, huffing in the warmth of your pillow before lifting your head and sandwiching yourself against the mattress. your fists squeezed the pillowcase with irritation, pulling as hard as you could manage to encase you in the comfort of your bed.

the birds chirped in unison, chattering as they built a nest on the apartment balcony your roommate refused to relocate (he called himself a humanitarian, but you were sure part of him refrained because he knew it bothered you). the slight creaks of your rotating fan were becoming more noticeable even as you tried to calm yourself back to sleep. you were uncomfortably warm now, the frustration culminating beneath your comforter and suffocating the air.

buzz.

your phone, shaking itself to life with a notification. you sighed.

buzz.

you thrashed the bedsheets away from you, your pillows and plushies cocooning in your blankets landing on the ground with a soft thump. the palm of your hand slammed against the hollow wood of your bedside table in a blind rage, desperately scouring your clutter in an attempt to locate your phone.

finally, you dug your nails into the rubber case and snagged it from the charger with a thwack. you rolled over to your side, squinting at the sunlight as you turned it on. three new messages, and an aspiring text bubble all from one person.

080-7766-5289

hey

good morning

would you want to get coffee with me?

the pondering text bubble finally popped, and your phone vibrated again.

maybe some breakfast too?

your groggy eyes glanced at the time. 8:23am. you barely had a chance to think through the onslaught of messages. the unrelenting number belonged to a guy you’d met at the bar last week, who was sweet enough for you to trade numbers with. last night had been your first date, a simple dinner and a movie.

unfortunately for him, you felt a better connection to the movie that night than to him. he was strangely stiff when you were around, answering any questions with caution that made you feel like an intruder for asking. comments and questions of his own were dry and anything but open-ended, his punctuation hanging in the stale air while you worked overtime to keep the conversation going.

it really didn’t seem worth it.

you shut off your phone and placed it on the table again, taking a deep breath. all at once, the scent of brewed coffee beans and pancakes wafted in from the kitchen. your stomach rumbled in response, mouth slightly watering as you came to terms with just how hungry you were.

you pulled yourself out of bed, dragging your feet along the plush carpet of the apartment. sluggishly, you ran your hands through your hair in an attempt to tame what mess it made of itself. it was cooler in the open loft, the windows propped open, welcoming the dewey air and various chattering of wild critters. those damn birds.

your roommate, suguru, was in the kitchen, his back to you as he worked his magic on the stovetop in front of him. his red apron was tied into neat bows wrapped around his neck and his waist– the words ‘kiss the cook’ plastered in bold font on the front of it with puckered lips, a gag gift from gojo last christmas that he had now worn to the point of the ends being frayed and stained with various ingredients.

he was wearing a black t-shirt that squeezed the tightness of his muscles, tense and working diligently as he flipped a pancake. his black basketball shorts hung loosely around his waist– surely thrown on haphazardly as he woke up –and he donned a pair of mismatched neon-striped socks. truly, a sight reserved for you, and only you.

on the island behind him, two steaming cups of coffee were presented next to empty plates. the pink one was yours, the black one was his. your utensils had a few extra napkins stuffed underneath them.

you make a mess one time and he can’t let it go.

he acknowledged your presence with a soft hum, before turning his head and offering a small smile. it was soft and captivating, just as he was. his charm washed over you as his gaze followed every part of your figure, raising a curious eyebrow at the sight of you missing a sock. nothing he hadn’t seen before, in fact, he’d seen you much worse and much more grumpy.

“good morning,” he said, his voice a low rumble. he met your tired eyes, taking in the delicate hues that warmed his skin. your eyebrows were still pinched together as you recovered from the confusion and discomfort of your untimely awakening. “rough night?”

“rough everything,” you huffed, grabbing your coffee and shuffling next to him. you hoisted yourself up to sit next to the stack of pancakes he’d created and leaned your head against the cabinets.

suguru watched carefully as you took a sip of your coffee, a sense of pride fluttered in his stomach when a content smile graced your lips. his motions came to a slow stop as he stared you down. you paid him no mind as you wrapped both hands around the mug for warmth and basked in the taste again, then kept it close to your chest as you licked the sweetness off your lips.

after many months, he’d refined your coffee blend to your ideal taste. pestering you each time if you liked it enough, or what he could improve on to make sure that his handiwork was no less than perfect in your eyes. he reveled in the way you adored his cooking, putting pieces of himself– his adoration, compassion, and sentiment –into his creations and curating your taste closer to his own.

his grip on the spatula loosened, nearly slipping out of his hand and bringing him back to reality.

suguru cleared his throat and resumed his task, sliding an additional pancake onto the tower, slowly but surely resembling the one of pisa. he kept his head low with a merciless blush refusing to back down. you didn’t notice. “did it not go well?”

“it was… fine, i guess.” you sighed, beginning to zone out as you stared down a picture frame hanging not too far away.

it was you and suguru, one of the first few nights you had finally gotten comfortable being around him and he’d invited you to meet his friends. more so, he begged you to come out of your room and gave you no room for escape when he sandwiched you between himself and the couch’s armrest. shoko took the photo, stealthily enough you didn’t realize it existed until you saw it hanging in the hallway.

suguru’s arm was thrown over the back of the couch, a lazy grin on his face as he looked at you. (gojo told him he looked goofy with that expression. lovestruck didn’t ‘suit’ him.) you couldn’t stop laughing at one of his many sly comments he’d whisper to you, covering your face as you cackled and peeked through them to get a look at him. his stare made your face burn hot and you kept it covered until gojo managed to grab everyone’s attention, like he always did.

it felt so long ago when suguru existed as your shy, withdrawn roommate who would stare at you with, seemingly, a dull interest when you spoke to him. despite his staring, he was always polite and considerate of your needs, your time, your privacy. he invited you to the food he’d make, setting aside extra servings for you. if you had already eaten, they’d go in the fridge with a sticky note on it.

then he was recording your shows, buying your snacks, anything he got for himself he seemed to get one for you as well, in a different color. it all came with ease, drawing you into his routines like he had his own gravitational pull and you were stuck in his orbit.

as he’d gotten to know you, he learned how spiteful you were to any form of change. you hated it when your go-to brands changed their packaging, when your restaurants were out of your preferred foods, or when your route to work was partially under construction. but you adjusted, without contest, to suguru’s rituals like it was nothing at all.

“i don’t know. maybe i’m being mean, but he was so, like, hard to talk to,” you shrugged. “it is so tiring to be the one doing all the talking.”

suguru doesn’t say anything, just nods.

“and then he texted me good morning. in what world are we in the good-morning-text phase?” you pouted, looking at him. “so weird. i barely know him.”

“and he asked me out for coffee. and breakfast. why would i do that?” suguru’s gaze flutters over you as you take a sip from your mug, his eyes lingering on the way you bite your lip in thought afterward. he chooses to stay quiet, inviting you to ramble for as long as you pleased, as long as he would be the one to hear your voice. “i don’t think i have the brainpower for either of those things and carrying an entire conversation on my back. it’s not even 9 in the morning.”

he turned the stovetop off, taking the pan over to the sink to wash. the mixing bowl and other utensils were taken care of earlier and already set aside on the drying rack, always so tidy.

“so, not well,” suguru concluded, his lips turning into a smirk. he teased, “i won’t get to meet him?”

“no, never. but also i got a free dinner and a movie out of it. so, something went right...”

he chuckled. the one thing men are good for, you’d told him before. in that way, he really wasn’t any different from the rest of your roster. he supplied you with food and outings, and wouldn’t dream of you paying for them, paying no mind to the way you’d protest and nearly brawl at the register.

suguru never met any of your dates, you’d disappear into the night– or days on end, not allowing them the gratification of crossing the threshold of your apartment.

he began to separate the pancakes onto your respective plates and set a small bowl of sliced fruit between them for you to share. he cleared his throat. “on to the next, then?”

“maybe… i don’t know. the thought of going out and all the dates is just so exhausting.”

suguru hummed again. a man of few words. he liked the idea of you staying in– staying home, with him. he honestly wasn’t sure how many horrible date stories he could handle, you could do so much better. you deserved better, and he could give it to you.

he twirled his fork as you slipped behind him, gently caressing his back as you passed. a warm trail remained in the absence of your hand, burning into his skin before dissipating into nothing more than a longing to reel back into your embrace again. “are you still interested in that bodega that just opened up? i don’t want to exhaust you.”

“no, that's not…” you paused, slipping into your stool, mouth agape as you found your words. “it’s different, with you, you know. it’s easy.”

“i’m easy?”

it was too early in the morning for his games. you sputtered. “no– stop! that’s not what i’m saying.”

suguru chuckled. “we don’t have to call it a date, you know, if it makes it easier.”

“what?” you blinked, then narrowing your eyes at him. the sun from the loft brightened his toffee-colored eyes that bored into you expectantly, though not bothering to repeat himself. he’d rather watch you squirm while he kept that stupid grin on his face. “do you think you’re making me feel better?”

the gentle glow of his skin was unmatched to anything, or anyone, you’ve seen. his hair was unbrushed, the slight curls framing the sides of his face and tickling underneath his chin. he was always elegant. and pretty. unfortunately, he was just as aware as you were.

he shrugged half-heartedly, taking note of the way your fingers bounced your fork in the air as you stared. “don’t worry if you don’t want to go.”

“i do want to go.”

“so, it’s a date, then.”

suguru took a quick bite of his pancakes, poorly hiding his taunting grin with stuffed cheeks. maybe later he would feel guilty, making you all flustered so soon after waking up, drowsiness anchoring your posture against the stool. but, for now, with you in front of him, he found himself giddy as he toyed with your reactions.

“you’re impossible sometimes, do you know that?” you opted for taking a sip of your coffee, an anxious whisper in the shell of your ear warning you that you were going to embarrass yourself by chewing with your mouth full. as if he hadn't seen it before. it was hard to avoid his stare, to escape the painful position he put you in. was he serious?

you mumbled into your mug, “you hang out with gojo too much. is he gonna tag along, too?”

(gojo, the master of getting anything he wanted, any time, anywhere, no matter what.)

“it hurt's me, that you're thinking about him at a time like this.”

he smiled, more genuine this time. you watched him carefully, catching the nervous twitch of his fingertips he combated with a melodic thrum against the island. you considered how sincere his tone was, his gentle demeanor somehow becoming more soft as his playfulness subsided.

"let me take you out."

you blinked, chewing on your lip thoughtfully. "to... the bodega?"

suguru laughed. "of course. i was thinking of a few different places, though."

"as in more dates?" you poked in his direction with your fork. he nodded. "who says we make it past one?"

"why not? we've already made it to our 'good morning' and 'eating breakfast together' phase."

#jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk suguru #jjk suguru geto #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru x reader #geto x reader #suguru geto fluff #suguru fluff #geto fluff #jujutsu kaisen suguru #gojo mentioned #lol #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu geto #spleen writes

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gay-jesus-probably · 10 months

Text

Let me just preface this by saying everyone is allowed to have their own opinions, TOTK is a really fun game, and I'm glad that other people have been able to enjoy the story as well.

...But I'm being dead serious with my complaints about the narrative being 100% imperialist propaganda. And I'm getting really tired of people replying to those posts by saying it can't be imperialist propaganda, because imperialism is bad and the game says that Hyrule is the good guys.

Like, guys. That's not the argument you think it is. Yes, I am aware that the game tells us Ganondorf is a flat, one dimensional character with no ambitions, interests or motivations beyond destroying the entire world for the hell of it, and also it's totally not racist because he's green, not brown like literally every other member of his race. Unfortunately literally all of these things are kind of the entire goddamn problem.

See, the thing is, everyone trying to make these arguments is accepting the game at face value. Hyrule is the perfect and almighty nation chosen by the demigod Zonai, and whose royal family has the right to rule due to their divine heritage. The other races exist to serve the glory of Hyrule, and they're happy to do it. Ganondorf is pure evil and must be stopped at any costs.

But that's not how anything works. The story informing me that Hyrule is the ultimate good that has done nothing wrong is the whole goddamn reason why I don't trust Hyrule at all. There's always more of a reason than that. And the game fucking suggests there was more going on! Ganondorf mentions Rauru has repeatedly 'invited' the Gerudo to become Rauru's subjects, and let's be clear here, it doesn't matter how peaceful those 'invitations' were, when the guy who owns every single magical nuclear missile in the world repeatedly demands you surrender to him, there's always going to be an implied threat of 'do it or get magically nuked'. Just that power difference alone shows us exactly why Ganon would feel threatened enough to invade. It's because Rauru was holding a gun to his head, and Ganon was expected to just trust that he'd never pull the trigger.

And yes, even if it wasn't intentional Hyrule was always threatening to wipe out the other nations, considering the entire royal family walked around openly wearing their magical nukes as cute accessories. If they couldn't be safely hidden away, there wouldn't be four other secret stones sitting untouched in a vault until the last second.

But that's never acknowledged. Of course Hyrule is the only nation with the right to the secret stones; even if other races get to touch them, they can only have them if they swear eternal blind loyalty and servitude to the glory of King Rauru and Princess Zelda. Ganon wanting to have one magical nuclear bomb out of a stockpile of eight of them is proof that he's dangerous and evil. I mean my god, what if he just walked around all day wearing a magical nuke and using its power for his own benefit, that would be terrifying. It's only okay when Hylian royalty does it.

And you can't argue that Ganon betrayed his own people, considering we don't get to know fucking anything about his relationship with his people. He's shows as the leader of the Gerudo, we're told he's a hero to his people, he has soldiers that loyally follow him into battle... and then oh nevermind, they all hate him and will spend eternity trying to atone for sharing a race with him. How did the entire race do a complete 180 in the span of at most a few months? Who cares, what's important is that now they accept they exist to serve Hyrule so they get to be the good guys now and we don't need to know why they were following Ganondorf, or why they stopped following him.

Basically my point is that yeah, I fucking know how the game insists everything went down. That's the entire reason I think it's imperialist propaganda, because the entire story feels like Hylian propaganda to conceal and justify some horrific atrocities that caused all of this. I literally do not believe that I'm getting the story through reliable narrators, especially considering that the only people allowed to actually tell me the story are all the characters that have the most reasons to be heavily biased in favour of Hyrule.

When the game shows me protagonists that have a massive amount of power and control over the entire world, then says the bad guy doesn't like that system just because he's evil, and literally nothing and nobody in the game says anything to oppose that take, I have some questions about what the fuck the story isn't telling me. And I'd really appreciate it if people would stop trying to argue with me just by telling me to stop asking those questions.

#tears of the kingdom spoilers #tears of the kingdom #ganondorf #can you tell that i'm annoyed by these people bcause i'm annoyed #...nothing personal if you are taking the story at face value btw #its just that i'm trying to dig into the story to talk about it #and it's frustrating to have people telling me i'm wrong because i'm analyzing the game #like guys... if someone doing a little bit of analysis is all it takes to dismantle the entire story #then it's not a well written story

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shitouttabuck · 7 months

Note

oh my god nina!!! 8 for the bedsharing prompts if it takes your fancy <33

thank you sweet peach this scratched an itch !!!

bed-sharing prompts: whispering “Oh, you are going to be very embarrassed when you wake up.”

Eddie’s not old—he’s not even 30, despite the near-constant jokes about his senior citizen-isms he seems incapable of shaking. And he wouldn’t even say he’s a man of creature comforts. He just likes familiarity, and routine, and his own goddamn bed.

Quarantine has brought a lot of change: being away from Chris, living in a single-occupancy apartment with three other people, and sharing a bed with all six-foot-two of Evan Buckley.

Currently, this means waking up at some wretched hour and squinting in the moonlight filtering in through half-open blinds, because the aforementioned best friend has stolen Eddie’s pillow from right under his head yet again.

Eddie groans quietly, easing his neck out of the crick it’s cramped in. He glares at the enormous lump snoring serenely beside him and pats the mattress blindly for his pillow. Eyes adjusting to the dark, he’s greeted by the same sight he’s woken to at ungodly hours thrice this month already: Buck with his gigantic thieving arms wrapped happily around Eddie’s goddamn pillow as he clutches it to his chest, dead to the world.

“Fuck’s sake,” Eddie mutters, reaching out and tugging the end of the pillowcase to no avail. Buck’s vice-grip doesn’t falter even in sleep. Eddie’s usually able to coax it out of his grasp without waking him, but it takes a minute, and their last shift had been a full-body workout from hell, and Eddie just wants to go the fuck back to sleep with a single measly pillow supporting his exhausted head. Surely that’s not too decadent a luxury to expect.

He tugs again, harder and meaner than he normally would. The pillow inches out of Buck’s hold, and Eddie grabs a firmer handful to yank it away, grunting triumphantly when it pops free.

“Hrmmph,” Buck grumbles, crease appearing between his eyebrows. Eddie stills, holding his breath as he gauges Buck’s proximity to consciousness. He thinks he’s in the clear, but then Buck murmurs unhappily and rolls ever-so-slightly towards Eddie.

“S’your turn to be th’ li’l spoon,” he slurs, and Eddie freezes even further. “’M th’ big spoon t’night.” He pats half-heartedly at the mattress between him and Eddie, jaw going slack again after a few seconds.

Eddie grins, just barely containing the snort that bubbles up at Buck’s sleep-talking. There’s enough distance from Ali and even Abby, post-train debacle, that means he can wring weeks’ worth of teasing out of this. Whichever one of them it is Buck’s dreaming of, Eddie thinks multiple nights of interrupted sleep allow him a little good-natured—if merciless—ribbing.

He shifts onto his back, shoving the pillow under his head and shutting his eyes with a sigh, but the movement has Buck mumbling again. His face is mashed into his own pillow, words barely intelligible when he says, “Y’re littler than me. C’mon, lemme be big spoon.”

The snort sneaks out of Eddie then, just a bit. He barely knew either woman, but he can’t quite picture them indulging Buck in this line of conversation. It’s—sweet, if deeply mortifying for Buck himself to know anyone else has heard it.

Buck snuffles discontentedly, forehead scrunching as he reaches out in search of the pillow, still asleep.

“Oh, you are going to be very embarrassed when you wake up,” Eddie whispers, wondering if there’s more entertainment about to be provided and if it’s worth getting up to unplug his phone and catch the tail end of this on video.

“Urgh,” asleep-Buck responds, patting the bed a little more insistently when he’s unsuccessful in his pillow-retrieval endeavours. “Wh’re—c’mere. Eddie. Y’re li’l spoon.”

This time when Eddie freezes, it’s such a sudden locking of every joint in his body that his neck cricks in the opposite direction. He barely feels it, singularly focused on Buck’s latest garbled complaint, because—is Buck awake? Is Buck dreaming about him?

He’s frozen so still he doesn’t realise Buck’s questing hand is now well in range of Eddie himself, and he jolts back into his body when Buck’s strong, calloused fingers wrap around his wrist.

“C’me back,” he whines, tugging at Eddie while shuffling closer at the same time. Eddie holds himself carefully still, hardly daring to breathe as Buck slowly but surely plasters his long, long body along Eddie’s side, hitching one leg over Eddie’s thigh before flinging an arm across his torso and dragging him nearer.

“Mm,” he hums, brow smoothing out. His cheek rests on Eddie’s shoulder, face smushed but seemingly satisfied. Eddie’s arm is trapped between his own side and Buck’s stomach, and he worms it under Buck’s body almost on autopilot, more to get comfortable than anything else. This leaves him basically cradling Buck to him, and Buck gives one final happy grunt before burrowing his face into Eddie’s neck and going limp, a dead weight over Eddie’s right side.

Eddie makes his fingers relax where they’re clutching the back of Buck’s t-shirt. This is—fine. Normal and fine. So Buck isn’t dreaming about cuddling an ex-girlfriend, he’s dreaming about holding Eddie. They’ve been living out of each other’s pockets more than usual recently, leaning on each other a little heavier through a global pandemic and missing Christopher. Eddie’s told himself it’s because of constant proximity, and maybe it is, but whatever the reason, if Buck’s subconscious is embracing that vulnerability in this way, that’s fine. He’s an affectionate guy, and while it’s relatively new for Eddie to be on the receiving end of that from another man, he’s not one to shy away because of someone else’s archaic ideas of masculinity.

And—hold on. Y’re littler than me? Was that what Buck said? Eddie huffs indignantly, and then huffs again for different reasons, feeling his cheeks heat. He doesn’t know why, but he pulls Buck a little closer.

It’s still normal and fine, he finds, turning his head to press his nose into Buck’s curls. That surprises him a little, that there’s no freak-out of any kind accompanying—whatever this is. Buck smells like vanilla, because he used Chim’s fancy shampoo that’s actually Maddie’s fancy shampoo because both of them are missing her something fierce, and he’s definitely drooling onto Eddie’s neck, and now that he’s not sleep-talking he’s back to snoring like a motorcycle, and Eddie’s slipping under before he can marvel any more at just how normal and fine it all is.

When the moonlight is swapped for sunlight, Eddie stirs to Chim singing along to radio in the kitchen downstairs. Buck blinks awake right alongside him, cheek imprinted with creases from Eddie’s collar and turning pink as he hastily peels himself away.

“Oh, um, sorry,” he says, voice rough with sleep. He contorts his body in surprise trying to roll off Eddie’s arm. “Did I—sorry, Eds.”

Eddie works his arm back under Buck, easy and deliberate. “S’fine,” he yawns. “It was my turn to be the little spoon.”

In his peripheral vision, Buck turns a brilliant red, and Eddie gives him a reassuring squeeze before taking great joy in telling him just how embarrassed he should be about the contents of his dreams.

(Buck’s mortification is blessedly short-lived, since the contents of Eddie’s dreams are equally embarrassing in the very exact same way, as it turns out.)

#911 fic #buddie fic #wrote this then had GRUELLING therapy so now posting this and legally u have to be nice. please #i have missed writing silly stuff i know it’s just been a few weeks but this was so fun thank u sami it’s exactly what i needed!#911 #buddie #nina writes #ok running on three hours sleep and a therapy hangover and a regular hangover so. posting and snoozing xoxo #bed sharing prompts #mine

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thegnomelord · 4 months

Note

Prompt #13? With gaz and soap if you dont mind (i dont know if i have to ask for smut or not but can u make it smut?)

anon you are so lucky you asked for smut because I was SO ready to make this as angsty as I could but smut it is :Dd Play the game HERE

Prompt: "Get up."

CW:NSFW, Top Mreader, Sub bot Soap, Switch Kyle, fluff, mutual masturbation, frotting, sleepy sex, Johnny being needy.

The sun rises slowly on the horizon, sending rays of soft sunlight filtering through the blinds only for them to fall into Kyle's face. He flutters his bleary eyes for a few seconds before closing them again; the morning air is cold and he pulls the covers further over himself, nuzzling his face into your neck.

Kyle smiles as your body curls around him, your voice hoarse as you mutter a low "Morning?". You feel him shake his head, grumbling something under his breath, not at all ready to wake up. "Yeah," You hum, already half asleep yourself. Neither one of you are morning people, content to share each others warmth and sleep to the final minute.

Unfortunately you're dating the human version of a golden retriever.

"Oi," You feel the bed dip behind you, Johnny's cold hands settling on your shoulder. "Get up."

"No." You groan, pulling Kyle closer to yourself, pointedly ignoring Johnny. "Cold." You add; you still don't know how Johnny can wake up before dawn shows it's ass crack to do his morning run and exercise.

"You worried of freezing yer chebs off?" Soap persists, shaking your shoulder. "C'mon, I'm bored."

"If Kyle's not up, neither am I." You grunt, cracking your eyelids just enough to catch his scowl, looking him up and down to see his body covered in sweat, dressed in a loose top and figure hugging shorts— Any other day you would have been tempted to pull him down and eat him, but now you only close your eyes and relax back into the pillows when Kyle shuffles to nuzzle his face into your neck.

"That so," Soap's words would have set alarm bells in your head had you been more awake, but sleepy as you are you think nothing of it when you feel Soap's weight shift off the bed.

That is until a pillow slams down on Gaz's face, clipping you in the process.

"Fuck- Soap!" Gaz yelps, pressing his arm over his head and using you as a human shield. It's no use as Johnny's as accurate with the pillow as he is with any gun.

"Sun's in the sky already, wake up." Johnny just giggles like a child, only stopping his soft assault when you sit up, the cold air having free reign to gnaw on your skin when the sheets pool around your torso seeing as you like sleeping naked.

"Alright," You suppress a shiver as you push the covers off yourself, putting some distance between yourself and Kyle. Your eyes settle on Johnny who's grinning like a loon, thinking he's won. "if you want to be a nuisance so be it."

"Wot-" Before Johnny can say anything you grab him by the shirt and pull him down into the space you created, swiftly pulling the sheets over yourself before you freeze your cock off.

You catch Kyle smirking lovingly as you trap Soap between you two, amused how Johnny just submits to you without complaint when your hands slide across his body. "You were doing that on purpose." Gaz chuckles.

"Ah dinnae ken wot yer talking about." Johnny huffs but shuffles to kiss him, starting to pant. There's always a certain thrill he gets when he's surrounded by you two, your firm chest pressing into his back and chest to chest with Kyle, pressing so firmly against him he can't even squirm when your hands wander over his body.

"Hmmh," You hun, not believing him for a second, especially when you feel his hard cock tenting his shorts, a small damp spot forming where his tip is. "And this has nothing to do with it?" You murmur in his ear.

"Nuh-uh," He shakes his head, the smug thing he is, purposely pushing his arse back to grind your cock between his cheeks. "But ye've got a problem of yer own."

Kyle snorts, silencing him with another kiss. "Looks to me like you're just looking for trouble." There's a lazy lust in his eyes, making Soap shudder when he slips them beneath his shirt, absentmindedly tweaking a nipple.

"Stap yer haverin'" Johnny moans low and slow against Gaz's lips, "Wouldn't be in this state if ye got up in a proper hour." He huffs, making you think you've spoiled him too much, but it's hard to not do it when he wiggles his hips so eagerly for you the second you start tugging on his waistband.

"You're not going to get fucked faster if you wake us up early." You can already taste the hypocrisy as you peel down his shorts; You're not the least bit surprised when you see he's gone commando, his cock hard and red and leaking against Gaz's equally flushed one.

"Dinnae lads, works just fine." He chuckles, grinning and swiftly tilting his head down to suck a hickey into Gaz's neck, throwing a leg over him to give your wandering better access to his hole.

You're treated to your second surprise-not-surprise as your fingers feel the cool surface of a plug. Kyle meets your eyes and grins, "Thought ahead did he?" He can already tell what you've found just from the look in your eyes, his hand sliding down to grip both of their cocks. "Needed us the second you woke up, yeah?"

Soap groans so beautifully, pleasure dampening his rational thoughts and leading him to nod his head. "Yeah," You tug gently on the plug, the pleased whimper escaping his throat like the angel's choir to your ears, leading you to draw more of those sounds by slowly thrusting the plug into him. Your mouth goes dry at how his walls suck in the plug without any resistance, sweet little 'ah, ah, ah's leaving his lips every time you push the plug in as Kyle strokes up to swipe across their heads, both of you working in tandem to make him buzz with pleasure.

You don't doubt he's stretched enough to take you now, loose as he is from last night and the thought of him working out with a butt plug scrapping against his prostate has blood rushing down to your cock— but no, you're not going to give him what he wants just yet.

"Ah, fuck, lads-" Soap whines, head tipping back to rest on your shoulder and giving you and Kyle access to nip and kiss his neck, his muscles twitching from the constant unending pleasure he's being drip-fed. "-please, want more- it's not enough-"

You pull the plug out fully with a wet 'pop' and the loud needy whine he makes has your brain leaking to your cock. "Yeah, do you think he's earned it?" You ask Kyle, your voice light with mischief, ignoring Soap's whining as you swirl your fingers around his clenching hole, gathering the lube before pushing two finger in to doublecheck he's ready.

"I don't know," Kyle puts on a thoughtful mask, the pace of his hand never increasing or changing no matter how much Soap attempts to buck into him. "I haven't heard any apologies about hitting me with a pillow yet," He smirks and bites Soap's neck.

"Fock-" Soap jumps from the sudden sting of pain and you take the opportunity to press firmly on his prostate, making a small stream of pre dribble from Soap's cockhead, "I'm sorry alright? Now please just- ah focking need it-" Soap sucks in a sharp breath, tears prickling his eyes from the overstimulation.

"Alright, alright," Gaz murmurs and kisses away the wetness around Johnny's eyes, giving you a subtle nod as he increases the pace of his hand, Johnny's precum easing the glide of skin on skin.

"Relax now." You pull your fingers out, quickly using the residual lube on your cock before blindly guiding your tip to his hole, your cock bobbing at how greedily his hole kisses your cockhead, fluttering around nothing. "Breathe," You instruct, feeling Johnny relax against you as you push in.

The angle is awkward given you're all on your sides, but it doesn't seem to be a problem for Johnny from the way he moans, panting like a work horse, his body easily taking you to the hilt in one go, so familiar with your presence inside him he doesn't even struggle to adapt to your shaft splitting him open. "Fuck- that's the spot." Johnny groans, bucking his hips into Gaz's hand, relishing the way your cock scrapes against his walls.

"So eager for us," Kyle hums, letting soft little moans of his own, pleasure buzzing up both of their spines. You set a slow pace, pulling out to the tip of your cock before pushing back inside balls deep, rocking their cocks together into Gaz's hand so all of you drown in hedonistic bliss.

You don't attempt to increase the pace nor does Johnny try to make you speed up, moans filling the silence of your bedroom every time your tip catches on his prostate, every time Kyle strokes up to play with their tips, every time your hips meet Soap's with your cock sitting so deep he swears he can feel it in his throat, every time your hand slides up to pinch Soap's nipple only to slide down to join Gaz's hand for a brief second only to go back up before it becomes too much.

Soap doesn't even notice how close he is until the second Kyle roughly squeezes their tips together and Soap's cumming just like that, whole body shuddering and his tight walls fluttering around you as he bites Kyle's shoulder to muffle his moans, cum spurting from his tip all over Gaz's hand.

You and Kyle aren't too far off, your hips bucking a few more times before you shove your cock as deep as it'll go into Soap's willing walls, cumming deep inside him with his body clenching around you in an attempt to milk you for all you have. You barely catch the swift movement of Kyle's hand and he's following after you, cum spurting across Johnny's front, pleased moans and harsh breaths leaving their chests heaving.

"That take care of you?" You hum as you relax into the mattress, all of you boneless. You don't attempt to pull out, not that you could with how he's clenching around you like a vice.

"Hmh," Johnny hums and nuzzles his head into the crook of Gaz's neck, making Kyle snort and card through Johnny's mohawk with his clean hand, his eyelids hanging low and a yawn leaving his lips.

Perhaps you could squeeze out a few more minutes of sleep...

#Gnome's Prompt Game #cod mw2 #x reader #gnome correspondence #trinkets from the hoard #male reader #top male reader #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x male reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #soap x reader #sub john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x male reader #john soap mactavish x reader #cod modern warfare

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kunikuma · 9 months

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im so sane abt hurt/comfort pls help me out of my misery .

harbinger scaramouche with an also harbinger (fem)s/o and she went through a lot of fight training since her childhood and so she has a lot of scars all over her body. and when she's like changing in front of him he notices them and asks about the scars🥀

scars

relationship | harbinger!scaramouche x fem!reader

content | fluff, hurt w/ comfort (la signora projecting onto you, scaramouche + awkward comfort) cw | scars, mentions of a rough childhood on the streets, suggestive at times but nothing lewd, being self-conscious about your body :( a/n | this rq caught my attention because I've got plenty of scars on my body haha. awkwardly-in-love scaramouche who's trying his best to comfort you was cute. hope i did this justice!

masterlist

growing up in the alleyways and streets of fontaine gifted you one too many marks on your visage. fending for yourself at such a young age had taught you everything you needed to know about protecting yourself, your things, and your dreams… and taught you to be cold and ruthless at times. no one else would have your back out there.

many years ago, when one of the harbingers found and cornered you in the alley, you acted like a feral cat; hissing and clawing at the gloved hand that shot out and grasped at your neck. one of his blades glimmered in the partially lit corridor, pressing into your skin hard enough to silence you but not enough to kill.

you later learned him to be dottore, the harbinger that was absolutely not all there in the head.

at the time, he was mildly amused by your drive to continue living a miserable life in the damp, cruel streets of fontaine, remembering how you demanded to be freed and returned to your homeland. but he really needed some meat to conduct a little bit of research and no one would notice some wretch missing off of the roads. bringing you back to snezhnaya was merely a way for him to add another lab rat to his ranks.

however, when the other harbingers saw you manage to nick a little bit of his skin with a scalpel and leave a scar with how deep your sunk your teeth into his arm as you screamed bloody murder, the director decided there was a brighter future for your existence as a recruit. the promise of food and shelter was all you needed to willingly leave fontaine behind.

over the many years, you rose through the ranks to earn a spot as a harbinger. each scar marring your body was only another tale to the lore of your life. being a harbinger meant gathering more and more of these… imperfections on your body. you originally thought nothing of them; they were simply imperfections and odd textures on your body. it wasn’t until a snide, maybe even self-conscious comment from the fair lady herself that seemed to strike a chord within you.

you see, you weren’t blind to the world. you knew of manners, how to dress, how to be a part of society. you learned these things by watching others; however, there were intricacies with beauty that you had not needed to fester over til now.

“how unbecoming of a lady.”

when you had turned to face your fellow harbinger, you watched the way she clutched her red dressings on her arms closer to her shoulders, almost covering herself and shielding her own body from your own. at times, the women of the upper echelon of the fatui would visit one another to gossip or… help preen one another during downtime. while the fair lady would prefer to call upon columbina to assist, she was busy. so, signora found herself at your doorstep for help since her hair was so long and she wanted someone to chat with.

your eyebrow raised, “unbecoming? enlighten me; what offends the beautiful signora today?”

the fair lady’s daily complaints were truly nothing new for the halls of the cold palace, but conversations, where she ragged on your lack of elegance or grace, were always amusing topics you would bring back to the balladeer and the youngest harbinger, tartaglia.

the fair lady runs her delicate fingers through her hair, smoothing down the strands as she answers, “your body, my dearest,” she mutters, disdain oozing from the term of endearment, “is… difficult to look at.”

when you stare at yourself in the mirror, you trace your fingers over a burn near your arm. the deep splotches and lines marring your body suddenly stood out even more in the candlelit room. through the reflection, you stare at the woman sauntering to the edge of your bed, setting herself down, “they’re scars. skin. what’s wrong with them?” as a woman who grew up more concerned about the money in your pouch and food on the table, something as inconsequential as scars never crossed your mind. if the wounds healed, you ceased your concern.

but the other woman did not know of your origins.

she merely sighs, “imperfections are not something to be proud of as a woman. men may walk around and howl and boast about their battle scars, but us?” she purses her lips as she lowers her long, flowing crimson shawl. the fair lady’s eyes narrow in on an obvious defacement on her body.

“these imperfections work against us. lowers our value.”

she bites out as she lifts her head, staring hard at you and your hallowed reflection in the mirror.

“i’d advise you to cover up.”

later, the balladeer joins you in your chambers, as he had received wind of your time with the fair lady. he knew if he were to enter your office, you would mutter about the frivolous and silly gossip the women occupied themselves with. the puppet was certainly correct as you had rambled about some things the woman had talked about, but you chose to not mention the vulnerable topic around the marred skin littering your body. at least, not yet.

tonight was a little different. you were getting ready for bed, gathering your night gown and laying it on the bed. at times, scaramouche might help you by running a warm bath, citing that humans get sloppy when exhausted, or he might help you disrobe because he has hedonistic needs he enjoys indulging in.

when scaramouche had almost embraced you from behind and began to tug on your clothes to help rid of the fabrics, your hand darted to his, effectively stopping his motions from revealing skin lower than your shoulders.

“oh? not feeling it?” he calmly asks, noting the way your hand was tensing and relaxing as you gripped his wrist. his burning eyes scrutinized the way your jaw seemed to clench as you gritted your teeth. this was quite unlike you… typically you would return his advances with fervor, almost pathetically ripping your uniform off so the two of you could enjoy your evening with little barriers. he releases his firm grasp on your clothes as he steps back from your form to make note of the way you didn’t fully turn to him. your shoulders were rolled inward, almost cowering from him. quite unlike you.

eerily quiet, the male harbinger studies your face, “if you have grown tired of our… arrangement, let me know. i despise speculating what you humans are thinking about,” he finishes, wordlessly demanding an explanation for your sudden change of behavior. when you hesitate to speak, which he notes by the way your mouth seems to part slightly but no sound comes out, he almost rolls his eyes. however, you manage to make a sound, but he didn’t quite catch your words.

“repeat yourself. louder,” the man orders, stepping forward, only for you to take a step back in a brief panic. he furrows his eyes and clicks his tongue, folding his arms as he waits at his spot. you were lucky scaramouche had even an inkling of warmth for you, otherwise he would’ve long tsk’d and walked out of your chambers.

“...my body—“

“what’s wrong with it?” he presses, impatience dripping from his silver tongue. his fingers drum over the black sleeves of his attire.

you flinch slightly before taking a shaking breath into your lungs. “i fear it is not up to your tastes.”

scaramouche says nothing as he stares at you, absolutely bewildered by your words. “not up to my taste?” he repeats in disbelief, taking a step forward to your hunched form. you took another step back, staring at him from the corner of your eye.

“yes. one of the things i spoke about with la signora was about the… scars sullying my body.” you sigh, your arms dropping to your sides in defeat. when scaramouche takes a quick step forward, you take a cowered step back, keeping the distance and continuing this odd dance. his strides increased in length before he found himself right at your feet with the backs of your knees pressed against the edge of your bed.

analyzing his beautiful face, you inwardly sigh when you notice even he was perfect, certainly better than la signora. his face was as pale as the fair lady, unmarked and unsullied by the world and his work. peering down his neck, you traced your eyes down his skin to note that even there, his skin remained unblemished and free from any imperfections like your own.

his gruff scoff shakes you from your thoughts, “you’re more of a fool than i anticipated if you didn’t know i do not care about those superficial concerns.”

“h-huh?” you nearly squeak in response when he pushes you onto your bed. before you could protest, he crawls on top of you and kneels over you. his position is similar to ones you’d find yourself in and you reddened at the salacious imagery that flooded your mind.

“your scars do not disgust me,” he starts, his voice lowering as he leans forward to hover over your face. before he could continue, you cut him off, “la signora said scars on men are to be seen as marks of pride, whereas scars on women are seen to detract from their beauty-”

scaramouche finally clicks his tongue and impatiently, almost harshly, knocks his hard puppet skull against your forehead. you curse and your hands fly to his arms to push him away.

“listen to me because i will only say this once,” he hisses, the feeling of vulnerability and awkwardness brewing in his chest, “the clown that is tartaglia is the only man who would truthfully cry to the heavens about his battle scars, but even he is not foolish enough to believe a woman is worth less because of her skin and the way the world was unfairly harsh on her.”

in the back of his mind, he knows the eleventh would actually find those scars on a woman’s body as the cherry on top as proof of her strength. perhaps scaramouche did regretfully share a belief with the ginger man.

your eyes were wide as you watched the short male above you continue his mutterings. his pretty fingers tugged on your clothes once again, but you did not move a hair to stop him. scaramouche unbuttoned your dressings, tugging the top over your arms to expose your undergarments and body to his keen eyes. intimate moments like these were not typically filled with kind, loving words from the man. you never needed such reassurance before the fair lady infected your mind with such trivialities. he dully notes he’ll attempt to get la signora a particularly strenuous mission next time around.

silently, he traces his fingers over a large scar on your midriff and you gasp, a twinkle of fear burning in your eyes. he ignores your response and his feeling to dash and run from the situation. he continues, “these scars have stories.”

“well, of course they do-”

the raven-haired man ignores your interruption, swallowing away his desire to just huff at your insecurities and resume the typical agenda he wanted to skip to. for some reason, he felt a need to reassure you in his own odd way, “they’re not-so much ugly than they are… bittersweet. these are from your time in fontaine, correct?” he peers up at your confused gaze as you nod.

"well, yes. it was hard to be a child on the streets," you murmur, your eyes drifting to the side. you swallowed carefully, "fatui training is quite hard as well. you would know; you didn't hold back on me either," you laughed, jamming your finger on a faded mark on your arm from a time scaramouche had ordered you to weld a blade against him.

he sighs as he strains himself, holding himself with one arm as the other explores your body. he gingerly rubbed the etching he left on you.

at times, he traces the markings. others, he trails around them if they looked sensitive. occasionally, he’d brush against a fresher one to see you squirm. your room was a little chilly considering the nation you were in. at first, your skin erupted in goosebumps at the cold air, but your embarrassment clearly warmed you right back up.

“scars infrequently have wonderful memories tied to them, but do carry stories about your life,” he continues, humming to himself quietly, “but by all means, i have never found them to be ugly. never have i thought your body was unappealing or ruined by them.”

he sighs as he trains his eyes on your reddening face. your mouth was agape as he stares at you. the balladeer took this as a sign to continue.

“these scars are a part of you.” and he's always wanted every part of you.

hesitantly, he bends low and presses his lips against one on your shoulder before he reels back, his head angled at your dresser to avoid your hawkish stare.

shakily, you raise your hand to cup his head and he presses himself into the warmth of your hand. before you could thank him for his kind words, he huffs. while you’d love to say he was looking down at you with love in his eyes, he wasn’t. scaramouche looked… distant. nervous. uncomfortable. but you know he wasn’t feeling distant or uncomfortable because of you. moreso because you had accidentally forced him into playing a role he was not used to.

scaramouche wanted you to understand he never found those scars to lessen your worth. but the man was simply not cut out for such a task.

when your thumb caressed his cool cheek, he sighs, “they are unfortunately yet beautifully human in a way that my past self would’ve been jealous about. so, enough of this tiresome self-consciousness. it’s not necessary,” he finishes with a frown.

the cheek in your hand seemed to warm up.

you blinked away the wetness in your eyes before you cupped both of his cheeks, pulling him in for a peck. he sputters in surprise before darting back up, still straddling your body on the bed.

“thank you, scaramouche,” you give him a small smile, “i won’t lie that this concern of mine won’t just disappear overnight, but… this helped.” you gingerly grabbed his hands in your scarred ones and intertwined his fingers into your own.

he clears his throat and half-heartedly smirks down at you, squeezing your hands, “is that so? i suppose i can retract my earlier words of only reassuring you once.”

when you look at him with an inquisitive crane of of your neck, he rolls his eyes with little irk behind them, “meaning, i’ll remind you every time your foolish self shies away from my touch again.”

you laugh as he unlinks your hands and started to disrobe you even further, the more typical mood filling your room.

“looking forward to it, balladeer.”

#scaramouche #kunikuzushi #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x y/n #kunikuzushi x reader #kunikuzushi x y/n #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #wanderer #wanderer x reader #wanderer x y/n #kunikuma’s fics

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flynnriderishot · 2 months

Note

I might die if we don't get scandals part 3

scandals pt.3 - c.s

a/n: chill bae 😭😔

it’s been two days since chris has sent you those flowers and he felt absolutely terrible at your lack of response. of course, nick told him if your thankfulness but he wanted you to tell him. he wanted some sort of indication that you forgave him for his mistake.

then again, he knew he wasn’t dating an easily forgiving woman.

you’ve only ever opened his messages he’s sent you since then, constant apologies filling your messages and ‘read at 1:35 pm’ being at the bottom of his screen every time.

today, he and his brothers were filming a video and you had promised matt and nick weeks ago that you would participate. he knew you were a woman of your word and never backed down so he was fully expecting to see you today. which is why he went out of his way to drag force matt to the store to stock up on your favorite snacks.

while this was a normal occurrence anytime you showed up at their house, he knew you appreciated the gesture.

so he sat on the couch with his leg bouncing up and down whilst he waited for your arrival.

nick was setting up the camera while matt changed his outfit for the third time that night. chris looked down at his own attire and wondered if maybe he should make himself a bit more presentable for you.

the thought immediately flew from his mind when he heard the doorbell ring.

“I got it!” he shouted, startling nick, who stared in disbelief at his sudden energy.

“you were gonna get it anyway.”

he hesitated in opening the door, clearing his throat before finally doing so.

“hi.” he breathed out, staring down at you with a small smile.

“hi, christopher.” you greeted, “can i come in?”

he stepped aside, “of course. i got you your favorite—what the fuck, matt!?”

the middle triplet stopped mid chew, “what?”

“that’s not yours asshole.” chris snatched the candy out of his hand, earning a shove from his older brother.

“i drove you there so i’ll eat what i want.” matt rolled his eyes, “hi, yn.”

“hey, matt.” you chuckled, knowing he was purposely trying to irritate chris to ‘avenge’ you as he stated in your texts.

“can we start filming now, or what?” matt interrupted, pulling you into a quick side hug while simultaneously walking you around the counter, “it’s blind, deaf, and mute by the way.”

•••

sturnioloupdate made a post !

comments

lovelysturn matt knows something

>>> ynsbabe the smile says all 😌

mattsgirl ‘hey guys, today we’re doing a blind, deaf and mute challenge again!’ *22 minutes of chris watching yn and no baking getting done*

>>> ynxchris you’ll see no complaints from me 😌

nicksmelanie THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO BE BAKING 😭 WHY WERE MATT AND NICK HARDLY PARTICIPATING?!

>>> ynsbaby $17 says that chris is trying to make it up to yn and nick and matt only let him help her because they’re good brothers

>>> vinniesbabygirl 17 is so specific 😭💀

>>> chrissssturn make what up to her?! i’m confused

>>> reallysturn chris apparently accused yn of cheating and it was proven that she didn’t so now people chris is in the doghouse

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•••

after filming, matt and nick ventured off to their bedrooms, leaving you alone with chris.

you weren’t too upset that they did this, feeling that now is a better time than ever to finally speak to him.

“baby—yn.” he corrected himself, not wanting to upset you anymore than he already has.

“thank you for the flowers, and the note, it was sweet.” you stood up from your spot on the couch, “i’m going to go home.”

he jumped up, “already?”

“filming is done, no?”

“yn, we need to talk.” his voice cracked at the last word, showing you just how much he needed to speak to you, “i’m tired of not being able to see you.”

“chris—“

“and i know it’s my fault, okay? i shouldn’t have accused you of something so big but you have to understand where i’m coming from.” he practically begged you to listen.

“you hurt my feelings, christopher.” you crossed your arms over your chest, “you proved to me that you have so little trust in me and our relationship over one simple photo. i have the right to be upset.”

he nodded, knowing full well that this was true.

chris’ shoulders sagged as you opened the door, his voice coming out desperate as he watched you leave, “i love you.”

you looked back, speaking up before shutting the door behind you, “i love you too, chris.”

chris.

he let of a short sigh, nodding slightly to himself.

you’re getting somewhere.

taglist: @kiera324 @strnlsblog @blahbel668 @noirpxrker @strniololoverr @sleepysturnss @leah-loves-lilies @sturniolopepsi @gigisworldsstuff @1201pm @breeloveschris @ksskianshd @shenya-chan @p1xieswrld @dancemomsfanee @whicked-hazlatwhore @stinkytinkywinky

LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH 😭💋⁉️

yall were on my ass about pt 3 so here you go 😔💋

#sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo

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blindbeta · 2 months

Note

I've noticed that you are interested in stories with multiple blind characters and often propose adding more blind characters to a story as a solution. I really struggle with this because it's not as simple as that -- stories don't have infinite narrative space. The idea that every story has a large cast is influenced by the prevalence of long serialized media in fandom: webcomics, TV shows, etc. But many writers (myself included) write a lot of novellas and short stories which often only have a few characters -- maybe even only 1 or 2! Even novels don't usually have huge expansive casts -- maybe 5 main characters with some additional side characters.

Considering this, I don't understand how it's realistic for every story (or even, say, 50% of stories) to have multiple blind characters (without it feeling forced). This is compounded by the fact that most blogs that talk about other forms of representation say the same! So if I write a 2-character short story and the protagonist is a blind Latino man, does the second character also have to be a blind Latino man? It just doesn't make sense! This is just a general problem I've noticed in discussions around representation -- there's an assumption that every cast will have 10+ characters and narrative space to develop those characters, even though that's not realistic for most narrative forms.

Do you have any thoughts on this?

Writing Multiple Blind Characters in Short Stories

Hi Anon! Surprise. I write short stories as well. I have experience with this. I have never felt like my blind characters were forced or unrealistic, even with having several of them in the same story. I’ll try to explain what might help you.

First, the idea that multiple blind characters is forced or unrealistic comes from ableism. Think about why you feel there is a limit on disabled characters. If you can create stories, I would hope you are creative enough to consider the possibility that multiple blind characters could exist in the same place and time. Challenging this barrier opens up more possibilities, allowing you to explore different types of blindness, different reactions to it, different upbringings, and multiple ways of living, adapting, and navigating being blind.

Second, blind characters need access to their own community. This is where they learn how to be blind. This where they get support. This is where they might find understanding and belonging. You can find more information about community here in an excellent reblog. Also, here.

As you mentioned, I often suggest adding more blind characters when writers insist upon using stereotyped portrayals. Having multiple characters with different experiences helps to make your story more realistic and nuanced, contrary to what people might implicitly believe. Having more than one blind character is something I highly recommend because it helps with not having all your representation rest on the shoulders of one character.

For example, if you are worried a main character who has cloudy eyes might reinforce the idea that all blind people have cloudy eyes, having another blind character with a different experience may help. If one of your blind characters is naive and innocent, you might have another blind character who is brash, displays a lack of trust in others, and has a lot of shocking stories. Maybe they’re in a rock band together. They met while playing blind football (aka soccer) on a middle school team. They bonded over their pet cats and sour patch kids.

Or something.

Another important thing to remember when writing is that you have control over the story. Too many writers come to me feeling stuck because they feel they cannot change their story while also wanting to incorporate my suggestions. This makes it challenging to address implicit bias or stereotypes, much less guide writers in going in different directions.

Additionally, I feel uncomfortable with the complaints about other blogs in this ask. I feel like this isn’t really about me, nor is it something I can comment on. I will say that it sounds as if a bunch of blogs dedicated to helping people write marginalized characters are mentioning some of the same things. They are probably doing so for a reason.

However, while it helps, writing multiple blind characters won’t improve every story, which I explained in my review of the book Blind. I was not impressed with this book. I did not feel that the four blind characters were very good, nor did having them help with offsetting the portrayal of blindness as a miserable experience.

Conversely, one of my favorite blind characters is Toph Beifong from Avatar: The Last Airbender. Despite being the only blind character in the show, the writers did a good job with her. Would I have liked her to meet more of her community as she travels with the Gang? Absolutely. Even though I like her, she still never had access to her community after being isolated by her parents for so long.

So, no, you don’t need to have multiple blind characters if the suggestion bothers you this much. I even provided good examples of what to do, what not to do, and times where my typical advice was not as helpful for the resulting story.

However, please consider where these feelings stem from. Consider the origins of the idea that having multiple blind characters is unrealistic. Using the example you provided in your question, I wonder, would you say the same if both your characters were white and abled? Is there any way you can challenge the fear of seeming unrealistic? What about being considered unrealistic bothers you so much?

You don’t necessarily need to have characters in the story for them to exist. Even background characters can help. I will try to give some ideas for this:

Does your blind character have family they can talk about or remember? Are any of their family members blind?

Do they have any friends? Just because the friends aren’t in the story doesn’t mean they don’t exist at all.

Does the blind character have any formative memories or flashbacks?

Does the character who isn’t blind know any blind folks?

Your characters should have lives outside of the story. They should have memories and experiences that made them who they are. This is where you can have other blind characters. Perhaps this is how your blind character can have a community.

However, I would still like to see more blind characters interacting with each other. This is what I want as a blind person. If you don’t want to go that direction, that’s fine.

I hope this helps.

#blind #blind characters #writing blind characters #ask #scheduled post #writing more than one blind character #multiple blind characters #ableism #let blind people have friends and community challenge

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nyimasu · 7 months

Text

─── WISTERIA, LUST, BLACK DRAGON

🀦. BLOSSOMS OF INK, INDEX

SYNOPSIS — Getо̄ and Gojо̄ are business partners and opened a studio together in the middle of Tokyo. You are one of their most loyal clients, especially since Shoko is a friend in common. One day, you finally decide on getting a tattoo, and that's where the magic happens: under Suguru's more than capable hands.

The rest is history.

CONTENT WARNING! — tattoo artist!getо̄ au, afab!reader (female anatomy and long, curly hair + tattoos), you're smitten with him as he is with you, mutual pining, gojо̄ is his own warning -> nipple piercing, toji is wearing a maid dress due to a bet he lost, unprotected sex, oral (both receiving), multiple positions, cock piercing (getо̄), hair pulling, lots of pet names | WORD COUNT — 8.7k ( ao3 link )

ANYA'S CORNER—this series is my creature and I'm so proud of it that I want to post all three parts on tumblr again aw there's lots more for you to find out about this slice of universe I created from scratches, so stick around if you want to ehe Hope you like this and see you soon!

The needles penetrating your skin didn’t hurt at all.

They went back and forth on your body without being too invasive, even though you were getting a tattoo in one of the most sensible spots of the human body.

The lack of pain was all thanks to the delicate touch of the young man who was holding the little machine, his face half covered by a black mask.

Your best friend had already taken her leave the moment she realised her presence was unnecessary (much to your complaint): according to what she had whispered before waving bye, she really thought the artist was into you since the first moment you walked into the studio to discuss with him about the tattoo.

Now that you were all alone with him, you could totally understand Shoko's words. And they rang in the back of your head whenever you locked eyes with the long-haired boy, the intensity in its gaze as sharp as the edge of a knife. As if it wasn’t enough, you assumed the girl set up a sort of blind date with him, since you and the boy had her as a common friend.

You even found yourself gulping several times.

Oh heart of mine, be still you repeated in your head every time he looked at you.

«How’s going?» he asked while wiping the excess ink off the expanse of skin he was working on, «I noticed you tensed a bit when I got close to the back.»

«It’s going great! Oh, it's because my back has always been sensitive but don't worry. I thought I’d be in much more pain than I actually am, so thank you for everything.»

«No problem. Working on someone as stunning as you is never a bother, petal.»

You both froze at the same time. The pet name he’d just called you with should’ve made you uncomfortable, but it didn’t. Rather, you were sure your cheeks raised straightaway at that, and you cursed your shyness for showing your true colours so soon.

He has complimented you with ease, such a feeling that had never really belonged to you. And that was one of the reasons why you never had many relationships.

You’ve never been good at reading between the lines, either, but something in the way he said it suggested you to do so.

Maybe Geto Suguru wasn’t as subtle as Shoko declared him to be. That sleep-deprived fox really set you up.

«T-thanks, you’re too kind.»

«That’s not something I get to hear very often. I thank you for saying so» the low buzzing of the tattoo machine soothed your ears once again, «may I?»

Your eyes found him looking at your braid, asking for permission to move it aside. You nodded, shivering the moment his form came into frame and his gloved hand brushed against your abused skin. He gently pushed the braid away and you imagined his mischievous lips stretching into a smile behind the mask.

Damn, he really was handsome.

«There we go. If you wait a bit longer, your tattoo will be done and you can get up to stretch a bit.»

Since you were laying down on your right side, the tattoo artist had to lean over you, almost half resting his weight on you. The moment he took position again, you couldn't do anything else but take peaks at him now and then.

Yep, he still was horribly handsome and the fact he had prettier hair than yours aggravated your mood even more.

You deserved to have straight, long and healthy hair too. You got stuck with a long one, yes, but it was really curly and difficult to manage. Braids were one of the few methods to keep it at bay.

Suguru’s hair reflected the artificial light above him, strands of lush pitch-black silk akin to a panther's mantle possessively caressing his high cheekbones and then down, ending right in the middle of his broad back.

And his eyes… wow.

There was nothing to say about them but being careful not to lose every fragment of your psyche into their depth.

The sound of the tattoo machine prevailed over your thoughts and you finally raised your head to let it rest against your right arm. The professional bed you were laying on was very comfortable, so it was no big deal staying still while Geto's hands worked wonders on you.

The needles started to work on the rib cage some minutes later, and their sudden attack in such a soft spot had your muscles stiffening.

Nothing serious, but it took you off guard.

«I know it hurts like a bitch, but try to hang on tight, okay? You’ve been doing amazing so far. Actually, if I have to be honest with you, you’re one of the few clients I made tattoos for that never complained about the pain. You're a tough one.»

«I have a very high pain tolerance» you explained once your jaw unclenched, «and this is not the first tattoo I got in a sensible spot. I’m used to it.»

«Oh? Do you have others? Where?»

«You haven’t seen them yet? What a liar.»

Geto’s cheeks rose and you've never wanted to see his dimples as much as you did at that moment. Stupid mask.

Girl, what got into you today? Get a grip.

He was now staring right into your soul and you took advantage of the situation to get a better look at his half-hidden face. Despite the annoying obstacle, you could clearly see the contrast between the devilish and unbothered aura surrounding his form and the slightest hint of fatigue under his eyes. You thought it'd be so easy to stretch out a hand and caress that annoying nuance awa-

«I was too busy looking at your face, petal. I have a better look at a girl’s body after I've been on a few dates with her, but I can make an exception with you if you want.»

Now it was your turn to giggle and you couldn’t know it, but the way your nose scrunched and your eyes turned into a pair of half moons every time you laughed melted what was left of those thick ice barriers Suguru had erected around his heart, right after the ugly breakup he went through.

He also knew you had a habit of bringing a hand on your mouth to hide it but, given the circumstance you were currently in, he watched as you just inhaled to calm yourself.

The most beautiful creature his eyes ever had the privilege to lay on.

«I wouldn’t mind going on a date with you, you know.»

«You what-» the artist started but as soon as he put down the tattoo machine, your fingers chased after a strand of his hair.

It had been as natural as breathing.

Once they were wrapped around it, you tucked the strand behind his ear with such elegance that the boy was scared you might hear his heart skip a beat.

He acted all tough and badass around his friends/coworkers, but if pretty people touched him… well, he could fall apart right away.

The smile you put on after he got closer was self-explanatory.

You were the most clueless human being that ever walked on Earth. However, if you caught the signals at the right time, you turned into a completely different person.

Suguru was starting to see it with his own eyes.

You exuded charisma and eroticism with everything you did or said, especially when you stared at him through the fan of your lashes. Geto had always felt weak in the knees for gorgeous souls like you.

He loved it.

«Well, if you say so then I wouldn’t mind inviting you to my place for a drink tonight. Don’t look at me like that!» he shook his head after seeing the sceptical look on your face.

«I’m not that kind of person. Consent and respect are what I look for in everything, whether it is a nightstand or not. Think about it.»

And you did, even after you got up from the bed after six hours spent laying down in the tattoo studio right at the centre of Tokyo.

Suguru plopped on the chair close to the counter for a few minutes, cracking both his hands and neck to relieve some soreness accumulated during the day.

Without looking away from you, of course.

There was a hint of possessiveness in his eyes, maybe because the tattoo turned out to be even more beautiful than the draft you both created.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was because you were only wearing a lace bra and high-waisted pants.

Whatever the reason was, he couldn’t bring himself to shift attention to other stuff.

You, on the other hand, were completely oblivious to his thoughts. How could you be when the complex design of the permanent masterpiece in the mirror was staring back at you?

Wisteria was blooming right under your breast, covering half of the rib cage just to end right at the end of the right elbow, its branches taking a huge portion of your skin in a warming and inspirational hug.

«This is beautiful!» you screamed in excitement, eyes meeting him through the mirror.

«I’m sorry I took away a day of work from you. I’ll make sure I make up for it tonight.»

His eyebrows flew upward and you winked.

I won this round, my dear tattoo artist.

«I thought I’d already told you not to worry about it. But I'm impressed: you went through a very long session and you’re not even remotely fazed by it.

And yes, the tattoo turned out pretty good. I’m glad you love it.

Oh» he grabbed the ointment on the counter and walked back to you, «sit here. Yes, perfect. Let me apply some lotion all over the tattoo before you go. We don’t want it to get infected, do we?»

You propped yourself on an elbow to help Geto out the best you could until he was done.

«Thank you again.»

«Thank you to you, petal.» he finally took off his gloves and mask and threw them in the trash can.

And only then you internally sighed.

Finally free of anything that might hide his beauty, his face caressed by the fading sun rays, he was even more beautiful.

He looked like an ethereal being with the same elegance of a hunting panther.

The aforementioned was patiently waiting for you to dress again, eventually proceeding to escort you outside.

You two were so close that his hot breath fanned over your face. As you handed him the money, he bent forward and your fingers touched for a brief moment.

Again, he had no business being the most perfect man you ever seen. And those fingers were a dangerous temptation. Only to think he'd been onto you but at the same time didn’t almost drove you crazy.

You wanted to feel him everywhere.

The sudden urge to thrust a hand in his hair helped you snap out of it, your digits still mid-air after he took the money.

«I can come back here tonight for closing time. Is that okay for you?»

«Absolutely yes. And by the way, I already found one of your other tattoos.»

Before you could even reply, his plump lips were on your neck. Specifically, behind your ear.

Right where the tattoo of a rose had taken its place three years prior.

Shook by the abrupt intimacy, you tried to step away, but one of his arms encircled your waist.

«Don’t.»

You were a breath away from drooling when his forehead crashed onto yours, his body taut under the soft fabric of the sweater he was wearing. Much to your displeasure, his tattoos were all hidden by it today, but the hair was in full display. Yet fascinated by it, you raised a hand to rub another strand when other thoughts got in the way.

«May I?»

The boy complied, even though he didn’t know what you had in mind. Escaping his grip, you took off one of the hairbands on your wrist and used it to tie his hair into a man bun, the front strands framing his high cheekbones.

Geto enjoyed how delicate your touch was, but his eyes rolled in the back of the head when you accidentally pulled his hair to fix it.

«Uhm.»

You looked over to see what happened... only to find his eyes half lidded, lips parted to let out a muffled groan. The sound went straight between your legs, but you quickly got a grip on yourself and pressed a kiss on his jawline.

«See you tonight, then.»

Retrieving your bag from the sofa, you turned around to see the artist resting his head against the wall, the glossiness of his hair enticing beyond words.

He didn’t say anything back, just placed a thumb over your lower lip when you were within reach again. Then, making little circles on it, he licked his own.

«I can’t wait to find where your other tattoos are, you naughty thing.»

Your tongue playfully touched the tip of his thumb and he smirked.

You eventually gave in and admitted that there was so much sexual tension you could feel it in every gesture that elapsed between you two.

What was wrong with finding out where that hunger could lead you to?

Of course you did forget about something while on your way back to the tattoo studio. You always lived in your own world, but that day you’d really outdone yourself.

«Damn it.» you muttered to yourself half kicking the street half punching the air.

You had spent the last four hours getting ready for the date, looking for the best outfit -only to end up wearing the same jeans you had before and a cute crop top- and what food you wanted to bring at Suguru’s place because let’s be honest: you didn’t want to get drunk on an empty stomach. You tended to be extremely clingy if super tipsy, so food was needed.

But your forgetful ass left it right on the table.

Carefully wrapped and all.

The neon lights of the modest sign outside Geto’s studio were still on. The boy seemed still in the middle of a session with another client, so you decided to both wait for him and kill some time by running towards the nearest convenience store.

Priorities first.

Food.

Ten minutes later you were walking out of there, zaru soba and onigiris in a bag and heart slamming against your chest. You knew for sure it was the artist’s favourite food because every time you stayed over at his studio to work on the tattoo, especially during meal time, he ordered zaru soba for both of you.

It was time for you to pay him back for everything, starting from that.

Feeling as if someone was watching you, your eyes searched for the source of your wariness and found it a few metres away.

The dark-haired boy was waiting for you, a shoulder leaned against the studio’s outside wall. Hair still tied in the manbun, he had looked up from his phone again to stare at you and bam, your mind collapsed onto itself.

He got more and more beautiful with every encounter of yours, and it hadn't even been five hours since the last one.

To say it wasn’t fair would’ve been an understatement.

«Hello, petal. I saw you coming, but you were already heading to the convenience store before I could tell you I was ready, so I waited here. What did you buy?»

«Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were still working so I left for a while.

But look!» you leaned forward to let him see what you had in the bag.

«Since I know you skip your meals if you’re hella busy, I thought it’d be nice to have something to eat after work.

Onigiri?»

Suguru’s smile grew into a much bigger one and accepted the rice ball. If he hadn’t already been head over heels for you, he definitely would've started from then.

After leaning closer to your outstretched hand, he bit the ball of rice still in your hand and a little sigh of pleasure graced his lips. He hadn’t eaten in hours, so he was glad you brought something to munch on while heading to his place.

Before Geto could do anything else, however, a high-pitched scream coming from inside the studio had both you and him almost jump out of your skin.

What the heck was happening there?

«Did someone hit their foot or something?» worried and bit out of your mind — Suguru just ate half onigiri off your hand with lust possessively caressing his pupils —, you welcomed that heaven-sent distraction and crooked your head towards the open front door.

And a startled laugh erupted from your chest right away.

Geto Suguru’s best friend and business partner Gojo Satoru was currently quarrelling with a man dressed in a maid dress, and you realised it was the latter who yelled. And rightfully so, because Satoru had had the brilliant idea to slap the other man’s ass as soon as he had crouched down to pick up a trash bag.

Mind you, the skirt did nothing to cover his flesh.

«Leave me the fuck alone, Gojo.»

«Why would I? You lost the bet with me and Megumi, so suck it up. Punishment fits the crime.

You’ll have to clean the studio with this cute outfit on for the rest of the week, and I can do whatever I want with you.»

The shorter man went to hit Gojo with the plastic bag across the head, but stopped when your giggles filled the air. The poisonous words he was about to spit on him died out in his throat, and he turned alongside Gojo to make out who you were.

It was Satoru that clapped his hands together, the faintest hint of jest mixed with masculine pride tilting his lips upward as he looked up and down at you.

«Good evening, beautiful. Do you have an appointment? I’ll be ready in a sec.»

«I’m sorry, I don’t have one. I-» what were you going to say, anyway? That you accidentally eavesdropped their conversation while the tattoo artist behind you was about to suck your fingers?

Luckily to you, the man with shreds of light in his eyes and snowy hair preceded you, his elbows resting against the counter close to Geto’s workplace as his front faced yours.

«No need to worry about Toji over here. He looks as if he hates me, but he doesn't. I’m actually convinced he fancies me one tiny bit.

Oi, is that a new tattoo? Did you get it today?»

The other man briefly waved at you, then flipped off Gojo and walked away. He couldn’t disappear in the back of the place faster than he did, sighing profusely that “he was going to have a looong conversation with both Megumi and Gojo once he returned the dress to Tsumiki.”

«What? Ah», you laughed again once you followed his eyes on your right arm. «I did. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?»

«Stunning.» for a moment you thought he wasn’t talking about the tattoo at all, but like you’ve already said, you weren’t that quick at taking hints when it came to flirting. Not if you were too shy to reciprocate.

And right now, your mind was set on another equally gorgeous and talented man.

So you brushed off the compliment with a polite smile as you stared at his pectorals. More specifically, the erected buds brushing against the thin fabric of the shirt.

Hold on, it wasn’t just nipples. Oh my God.

This time it was Satoru who figured out what you were looking at and smirked, the action highlighting the tiny metal bars hiding under the garment.

«Hey, wanna come in? Even if you don’t have an appointment it’s fine. I might even give you a discount.» he straightened his back and slowly made his way towards you. At that your feet moved backward on their own accord. Out of instinct.

For he was akin to a hungry predator ready to jump on his prey the moment he felt your blood rushing more and more to your racing heart.

«I think an orbital would suit your ears the best. Or a tongue piercing, maybe?»

Suddenly the smell of cigarettes hit your nostrils, soon followed by the curtain of white smoke spreading behind you.

«Back off, Satoru. She’s with me.»

The piercing artist halted before he could cup your face and met Suguru’s gaze above your head. Pouting as his eyes trailed down your body one last time, he stepped back and raised his hands in defeat. Feigning faux guilt, of course.

«I know. I could recognise your style everywhere and you only had one client who requested a tattoo of a wisteria on the right arm.

Just wanted to make sure she was more into you than me, and she is. Usually people fall at my feet in less than three seconds when I give them the bedroom eyes, but she didn’t bulge one bit. Congratulations.»

«You’re such a slut.»

You couldn’t help but grin at that, watching the two men coming back at one another’s throat with delight filling your mind. They were two peas in a pod.

«Okay petal, time to go.» firm was Suguru’s grip on you when he wrapped his arm around your waist, and you let him with a little yelp.

If he wanted, he could’ve lifted you off the ground with a single hand.

«Have fun guys. Oh!»

With one hand strategically placed on Geto’s face, distancing him enough to prevent him from hearing what Gojo was about to whisper in your ear.

And when he did, you were glad Geto was holding you.

Ten minutes later you were taking a walk with the tattoo artist because, according to the boy, his flat wasn’t that far from the studio. So you followed his lead, eating and talking about a lot of topics… except the one Gojo asked you to keep for yourself until you and Suguru were home. You still couldn’t believe what that flirty man had confessed.

However, now you were discussing fashion while a tuna onigiri stuffed your cheeks.

«You wear harnesses everyday and you’re coming for my style? Are you serious? You’re wearing one even now, the hell.»

«Of course I am. And for the record, I’m not the one here who wears revealing clothes 24/7.»

«I beg your pardon?»

You were getting all worked up over the crop top ‒ which wasn’t gauzy, bloody hell ‒ when he suddenly stopped. You were both facing the door of what you supposed was the boy’s place.

After he opened the door, you expected him to walk in and welcome you in the flat. Wrong, because he first looked at you, then a half-whispered confession escaped his lips that you heard anyway.

«But I’ve never said I was mad about it. I have a thing for see-through clothes.»

«I swear to God, if you don’t stop-»

His words cut through your rambling. «What? What do you want to do to me?»

He didn't give you time to prepare yourself because practised, long fingers rested behind your neck as he pulled you in for a sudden yet hasty kiss that soon turned your knees into jelly.

You soon obliged in consent to let him deepen the kiss, his tongue chasing yours as his fingers wrapped around the back of your thighs. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you hadn’t even realised you were inside his apartment already until you saw a black couch behind his back.

Alas, his plans all went down the drain when a dark grey fluffy ball mewled against his leg to get his attention. You laughed in the kiss, seeing how desperate that cutie was acting to get some attention.

Suguru’s eyes locked with the Nebelung cat and groaned. «Nen, you little troublemaker. It’s half past midnight and you’re still up. Don’t you see we have a lady tonight? I have to take good care of her.»

Nen apparently wasn’t having any of it tonight because she mewled again at the owner and walked towards the bowl.

Oh, her Majesty was hungry.

«Go», you chuckled as you untangled your legs from his distressed form «I’m not going anywhere. And if I recall, you promised me a drink earlier.»

He rolled his eyes, scolding Nen for interrupting even after he had crouched down to feed the beautiful long-haired cat.

As the not-so-tough artist fetched two wine glasses and placed them onto the table to pour red wine, you came to stand next to him with a toothy smile and grabby hands.

You were an instant boost of serotonin that kicked into his veins, and he couldn’t really wrap his head around the idea you could be both so hot and cute at the same time.

His thoughts exactly reflected yours, although you were quite sure he didn’t know how much his beauty, aura and personality impacted others. He was so, so gorgeous inside and outside, yet he still struggled to let his truest self emerge.

«You were planning on getting me drunk without eating anything first, didn’t you? But I read through your schemes, Geto Suguru.» a shiver ran down his spine when you said his name.

«I’m not that naive.»

«Ouch. What made you think so bad of me, petal?»

You giggled, the braid swinging against your spine and fingers on the black harness around his thigh. He hadn’t noticed it yet, your clueless and sexy tattoo artist.

Mine you repeated that single word to yourself like a mantra, jolts of confidence radiating through your entire system.

God, he really was a sight to see.

«I’m messing with you.» you took a sip of the thick liquid and leaned against the kitchen counter for support, «wow, this tastes amazing.»

«I’m sure you taste even better.»

For the first time in a while, butterflies fluttered in your stomach. Tilting your head up, you put down the glass behind you and locked eyes with him.

«You believe so?»

«Uhm-uhm.» his fingers were once again on you, but this time they were after the braid. When he finally undid and brought it forward, curls landed on your chest. A soft chuckle left his throat, fingertips playing with your curls as his eyes devoured yours.

Breath stuck in your throat, you watched as he finished the drink in his other hand and oh my God, wetness had pooled in your panties already.

And he did the bare minimum to turn you on.

You were whipped for this man and Geto could tell it as well by the way you bit your lower lip while staring at his plump ones.

«Shoko really set us up in the best way possible.»

«Well, as they say: the devil works hard, but she really works harde-

Ah.» you whimpered, bracing yourself on the counter with Suguru’s digits now tracing the wisteria on your arm with delicate touches. He then proceeded to go down, until his fingers tugged at the hem of your top… and that’s when you clicked your tongue.

«You’ve already seen me half-naked plenty of times. It’s about time I see you taking off your clothes first.»

With a snort he broke away, but stayed close enough for you to feel his thighs twitch against yours.

«Deal, but I haven’t seen all of your tattoos yet.»

«You will soon enough.» was your response before taking in how he impatiently got rid of the black sweater. It landed on the floor, close enough to land where Nen’s kennel was. However, the little girl was nowhere to be seen. You went to ask where she was when Geto motioned you to look behind your back.

And you saw her sleeping soundly on the couch.

«The queen is sleeping there. We might as well go to my bedroom, mmh?»

You nodded and for a moment you almost forgot about your partner’s semi-nudity. Or Gojo’s words.

Yeah, almost.

Because the sight of the monochromatic dragon adorning the entire left side of his body seared into your brain. You’ve always seen part of it before, but now it was displayed on his flawless skin for you to explore with your eyes, your fingers.

Your lips.

He walked past the counter and his bare back held other tattoos, such as the lotus flower behind the neck, or the complex design of a sleeve on his left arm. All while Satoru’s words boomed in your brain like thunder bolts just crossed the sky.

Oh man, you weren’t going to make it out alive tonight.

Feeling your eyes consuming him, Geto’s tongue licked yet again his lower lip, but you tore your eyes away from his bare chest out of sheer despair and left in a hurry. He caught up in no time, taking your hand and guiding you to the right room.

«I love that look on your face. You see my tattoos and get all flustered. It shows I got under your skin just as much as you got under mine.»

He didn’t want to let you catch a breath or see how nice or tidy the bedroom was, considering how eager he was. His prominent erection against your back and the way he subtly bucked his hips up to yours to edge you spoke volumes about what he wanted at the moment.

You, falling apart under him.

Somehow, you managed to stay on your own feet in spite of his fingers yanking your jeans past the hip bones and then down, right where you were already taking care of the shoes. It didn’t take long for him to help you discard them and, while you kicked the piece of fabric and the boots out of the way, your index and thumb unleashed his hair.

Silk strands grazing both your faces, you gave yourself no time to dwell on it: still with your back on him, you shoved one of your hands among his locks to pull at the roots and grinded on him.

Eye for an eye, angel.

He moaned in your ear, something that has never happened with any of the male partners you had before. They thought it was too “girly”.

Bullshit.

Boys who groaned in their lovers’ ears were fucking hot.

«Fuck. I’ve never said you could call the shots, though.»

«I-» he cut you off again, tilting your head up to let your lips meet again. This time the kiss was as rough as the man fondling your breast still embraced by the crop top. As if you shared one mind, Suguru grabbed it and almost tore both open.

Action that earned him another pull at his hair.

«Careful» he breathed in your mouth, «or I won’t be gentle.»

«I’ve never asked you to.»

“You’re his petal, are you? Then listen to me: there's more to this than meets the eye when Suguru is involved, ‘kay? Buuuut, you’re in for a very big surprise with him. You see…”

Before he could stop you, your knees hit the carpet with a thud. After spinning so that you were now facing the crotch of his black cargo pants, he shook his head.

«Is this your idea of ‘making up’, petal?»

«Complaining already? I thought all boys loved good head.» staring back at him, a pout already gracing your bruised lips, Geto sat at the edge of the bed. Then he watched as you crawled on the carpet on all fours, drinking in the view of your half-naked body.

«I'm not like any other man you've encountered.»

No, he really wasn't.

As you shrugged, he finally caught a glimpse of your other tattoos: leaving the rose aside, the outline of a black snake on your thigh captured his attention right away. It was beautiful, its design and realisation something only a skilled tattoo artist could pull off without ruining the final outcome. A woman had worked and executed the tattoo, there was no doubt about it. Generally speaking, women were more detail-centred than men were, and that was the case with the tattoo.

He wasn’t the type to judge girls for what they decided to get on their skin. How could he, when it was literally his job to please them in that way?

Many uncultured, hypocrite people -namely men hidden behind their fragile ego and toxic masculinity- would’ve considered your tattoos too “aggressive” or “the best way to turn off a dude”.

Someone had had the chance to put their hands on you before he did. Strangely to say or even think, jealousy swallowed him whole in the blink of an eye.

The boy was so engrossed in his task that he hadn’t felt your hands free him from the confines of his pants until your startled gasp reached him.

Gojo wasn’t lying.

Your fingers first brushed against his bare, tensed thighs and the long-haired tattoo artist sucked in another moan. Then you stared at his cock with such intensity Geto feared you had a change of heart. Still panting, he cupped your face with a hand and in doing so, his eyes wandered downward.

And saw where the head of the snake rested.

«Satoru told you, right? Of course he did» he didn’t sound angry or disappointed, just resigned, «he never misses the chance to say he’s seen my cock fir-»

«Ssh.» you stopped your partner’s reasoning with a kiss right on his happy trail, descending until you locked eyes with him and smirked.

And Gojo's words ricocheted in your mind.

“-he was the first person who trusted me enough to put his hands on. But you'll see for yourself how fitting and nice a dick piercing looks on him.”

What a pretty, pretty boy.

«He told me. But let me get you onto something real quick.» your index came across the tattoo of what you believed was a customised carnation. It was standing proud on his rib cage, some space apart from the huge tail of the dragon on the arm.

If he was taking his sweet time admiring your tattoos, nothing prevented you from doing the same.

«I don’t care. I like pretty jewellery on attractive men and you, angel, are exactly that.

And I fuck them really good.»

He was trying his best not to drag you onto the bed and show you how good he was going to fuck you after what you just said, but he preferred to let his fingers wander, reaching down to caress the head of the snake marked on your hip.

Its forked tongue ideally licked the hip bone, and it was the exact same thing you were doing on his inner thigh.

Suguru was far from being intimidated. He’d been the first one among his friends to fully embrace who he really was, starting from his physical appearance and preferences.

He’d come to terms with both his flaws and qualities a long time ago.

What mattered to him the most, after all those years spent trying to be someone the society wanted him to be, was authenticity. And you were giving him plenty of it tonight.

Just being there with him, physically and mentally naked, was enough for the artist to make him go.

«Lick it, petal.»

Your tongue was now roaming over the metallic bud whilst a ragged breath from his part caressed the back of your head. His muscles spasmed under the slightest touch, signalling you he was at his limit already.

Nonetheless, the moment you actually took him into your mouth, moaning because of the salty precum coating your mouth and hand covering the base of his cock, he couldn’t do anything else but sternly whip at your hair.

And a loud whimper left your lips.

«So I’m not the only one here with a thing for hair pulling, uh?» his cocky smile was the last thing you saw before he beckoned you closer to him.

You arched your back a bit so that your elbows rested on both thighs, pushing them aside to give you more space.

Expert fingers were yet again yanking at the roots when your lips embraced more of his girth and you almost gagged. It was no easy task, since the man was so aroused and girthy and- God, he sounded so breathless and whiny as he thrusted into your mouth.

«Just like that. Take more of me into that pretty mouth of yours» faux innocence dripped from every single syllable, «I can’t even imagine what being inside you feels like. Yet.»

That last sentence would’ve elicited a profuse string of whimpers, but you were too concentrated on making him moan again. So you simply hummed and slid your mouth further down on his cock, causing the boy to grip at the sheets and then fall on his elbows.

You patiently licked and kissed every inch of skin you could reach, stealing glances at him from time to time. Then eagerness got the best of you.

You took all of him in your mouth again in one, smooth move.

«A-ah.» Suguru’s voice cracked seeing your nails digging into his inner thighs, but what almost made him go insane was when you flattened your tongue against the prominent vein of his cock, dragging it along its entire length until you wrapped around his frenulum. And you rubbed your tongue on it, the cold and hard texture of the piercing sinking into the tender flesh of your wet muscle as Geto moaned again.

«Fuck.»

He was going to thank Satoru someday, of course.

However, he had no intention to come in your mouth when he hadn’t tasted you yet.

Before you could finish what you started, the long-haired boy tugged at your hair hard enough to make you sigh. Tumbling off of him, slick glistening on your lips, you watched as he plopped down on his back. He still was painfully hard, but Geto’s mind was drifting towards other directions.

«Come here», he motioned you to straddle him and when you did, his pads on your bottom lip gathered the mixed fluids on it. «We’ll continue this another time. Now, move forward.» «Did I hurt you?» «Not at all.»

Confused, you did as he said, and as soon as you felt him push you upward for your head to hit the headboard, a sudden yet pleasurable feeling there shook you to the core. You hadn’t realised it ‘till now, but you still had your panties on.

Well, what was left of it.

Saying that you were so wet that the fabric almost completely disappeared would’ve been a huge euphemism.

Suguru rose to his feet and, without you noticing, he stepped back and brought a hand to his mouth to hide his satisfied smile.

You were there, in his bed. Curls covered half of your back, including the section he so accurately marked for hours.

Before today, he'd never thought you’d accept going on a date with him in the first place, let alone ending up at his place.

In his bed.

But the moment you linked eyes with him almost two months before in his studio, Geto just knew he had to be with you.

One way or another.

Moans airily passing through your lips, you clenched around nothing when his digits brushed against your drenched sex. He was playing with you, just like a lover would’ve done on a passionate night with their significant other.

«G-Geto.»

His movements came to a halt altogether, and you mentally slapped yourself for speaking. You were really great at ruining the atmosphere.

«Yes, petal?»

«Did I do something wrong? I mean, I’m pretty sure I messed up something since I’m a bit rusty, so-»

The tattoo artist cut short what he was sure would’ve been a very long, unnecessary apology by placing his lips on your earshell. You leaned closer to have a better view of his body towering over you, but nothing could prepare you for what happened next.

Almost simultaneously, his hand pushed down your panties and whispered:

«Nothing of the sort. You’re too good at giving head, I almost came the second I felt your tongue dragging along my piercing» shivers of both embarrassment and pride harpooned you as he continued. «But I’m too impatient for that. All I want right now is to eat you out from behind like the starved man I am.

I need you on my tongue.»

That being said, he left hungry kisses on his way back to where you needed him the most.

Making sure you could reach the headboard anytime, you waited for your partner to finally get his way with you. And he did shortly after, kissing and then lapping up the wetness gathered between your thighs with his tongue.

A tongue that soon breached past your entrance in no time.

You mewled, lurching forward to get some kind of break from that intimate kiss.

Not on his watch, though.

One of his arms gripped your waist and pushed backward, right where he demanded you to be. It only took him a moment to convince you to spread your legs wider on the bed, so that he could better lick up into you.

«Just like I thought: you taste amazing.» he stated under his breath.

The implicit compliment had your cheeks burning, pretty lame in such a situation.

If he had been really close to cum when you touched him, you were literally shreds of seconds away from losing your mind.

Not only was he sucking on your clit like his life depended on it, but he used two digits to part your folds and then, just then, dug them so deep goosebumps spread all over your arched spine.

He was hitting each sweet spot of yours with disarming carelessness, further proven by the moment he hooked fingers into you: that way, it was impossible to snap your legs close.

Not that you wanted to push your luck.

«Please» you fell onto your elbows and hid your face in the pillow, «I-I can’t take it.»

Words fell on deaf ears because he wasn’t done with you. Nose bumping against your sensitive bundle of nerves, he scissored his fingers apart.

And all of a sudden, neither his fingers nor mouth were close to you.

The desperate cry for the abrupt lack of touch building up within you was promptly interrupted by Geto’s touch on your back. He felt you were close, so he decided to stop and eventually keep his promise to rail you.

«You can. That’s why you’re here.» kisses on your spinal cord. «Tonight.» maddening fingers on your breast. «With me.»

For God’s sake, girl, you better grow a pair.

Talk back.

There was so much you wished to tell him. Alas, your mind was so clouded by pleasure that you just bucked into his touch for more, completely unaware of the fact Suguru was fascinated by the way you appeared.

Sweat grazing both of you, foreheads sticky with it, he nibbled on the skin near the jaw to get your attention. You looked back at the black-haired man, expecting him to lift you up or shift position.

Nothing. Was he waiting for you to say something?

«Did the cat get your tongue?»

Somehow your voice came back alongside a fair share of bratness. «Nah, it’s still here. See?» you flicked it out to prove it. «Want me to say anything in particular, angel?»

The tattoo artist cackled in your ear. Pet names could work both ways, apparently.

«You tell me.» «What about a new necklace? Can you give it to me?»

For the first time in a while, Geto Suguru furrowed his eyebrows in utter confusion.

How the fuck was he supposed to buy a necklace right before going down on you?

The dark-haired boy’s eyes met yours, eyes blown dark with lust and a never ending hunger that only a few had had the gut to face.

Before he could understand what was going on, you lifted yourself up to let your soon-to-be abused hole caress his tip a few times, eliciting soft moans from the two of you.

The coldness of the jewellery had you freezing at first, but then its gradual warmth enhanced the crazy libido agitating itself within you.

Breathing each other in, you moved down until his shaft broke past your entrance. And realisation hit him as he was halfway through your pussy, pants falling past your lips. Without altering the pace set by you, the artist wrapped his fingers around your neck and moaned yet again in your ear.

«A ‘necklace’ it is. I got myself a kinky girl, didn’t I?

I’m flattered.»

You sighed in response. The feeling of his pulse strumming away at your insides was too overwhelming, almost addicting. You couldn’t blurt out any sort of coherent answer.

He took the lead soon after your body went in override against his, bottoming out and ramming himself back inside in a matter of seconds. He slammed down his mouth on your own to suffocate your shared moans when the piercing plonged at the apex of your walls.

«I’ll only wear it when you’re around.»

«As you should» his teeth latched into your throat, «you’re doing so well, petal.

It almost feels like you were made to take my cock only.»

Fingers you loved having on you pressed the zone around your windpipe, and that caused you to arch off while Suguru’s thrusts gained strength.

Pleasure occluded your senses just as the boy tugged back at your head to steal a kiss, his eyes almost rolling in the back of his head when your digits found harbour in his hair.

«It feels s-so good, S-Su-», you unladyously groaned «Sugu’.»

The sound of skin slapping against skin faded to the background of your mind, Geto’s fingers adding more pressure on your throat’s sides. Nonetheless, you felt him twitching inside you.

Was he into pet names that much?

«Say it again.» no amusement this time, just pure excitement filling his raspy voice. You went to speak again when breath got knocked out of your lungs.

He had flipped you over so that now you were facing a very excited Geto, his hand still on your neck and dick buried deep in you.

Okay, he definitely was.

You shrouded your eyes as he laid you down on the bed, but they were again on him when his thumb pinched the skin right where the tip of his cock was driving through into your core and up to the cervix. It almost hurt how full you felt at that moment.

«Don’t stop, Sugu’.» you pleaded. He shook his head, his other hand on your hip.

Your own enclosed his face to bring it closer to yours, initiating a kiss that convinced the man to continue what he was doing.

Alluring whimpers reached your ears, just what you needed to give in to the sensation of him filling you up to the brim.

Both you and him were so close to your releases. He especially was, his movements sloppy and hips stuttering with every thrust you desperately took in stride.

«Look at me.»

You hadn’t even noticed your eyes had wandered off from Suguru's’s face until he pointed it out. He was now pistoning into you slower, but he still was as perceptive and caring as he’d been at the start.

«Yes, keep your eyes on me. God, you’re so fucking gorgeous» he pecked your nose as his voice lowered. «Can I come inside you?»

You went to compliment him back when he hit another spot of yours, causing you to scream in your hand and nod at his question. «Oh, my God. R-right there.»

After that he resumed hitting that spot until you tensed under him, your back arched off the mattress to meet his heavy chest.

You pushed one another over the edge into a kaleidoscope of fragmented lights, riding through your orgasms until the aftershocks rolled over you both.

Geto kissed you for a very long time for so long after you were done, lazily rocking his hips against yours to fuck both your releases back into your dripping hole. Actually, you weren’t even sure how much time had passed since he took you in his arms to get to the bathroom and back on the bed.

A core memory of yours, however, was him delicately wiping the sweat off your body, kissing your forehead before taking a quick shower to come back to you.

He really had fucked you stupid.

«A penny for your thoughts.»

His hand covered yours under the clean sheets you two had put on. The smell of sandal lulled you as your body went limp against his, indulging in his touch for a bit before replying.

«Shouldn’t it be ‘a tattoo for your thoughts’? I find it more fitting.»

«Just because you slept with a tattoo artist doesn’t imply you get free tattoos from now on, you little vixen.»

He narrowed his eyes and the view of him getting mad over something you made up on the spot had you laughing against his chest.

He was jealous, and for now that was more than enough to make you feel desired.

You hadn’t felt that way for so long.

«Kinky girl.» «Shut up.» He traced the form of your other tattoo in the inner part of the left arm. «Make me.»

And you shut him up for the rest of the night, exploring every inch of his skin until brushes of light orange and pastel yellow washed away the purple and deep blue nuances of the night.

«You’re lucky tomorr- I mean today, it’s my free day. Otherwise I didn’t know how to bring you there.»

Knowing where he was coming from, but unable to stop it, you sighed. You should’ve been prepared for the inevitable.

«Where?»

«To buy you a necklace, petal.» he leaned closer to kiss your pout away

«This lovely neck of yours needs a choker that does its job when I’m not around.»

«You’ll never let me go away with this, will you?»

Strands of silk brushed against your face as Suguru caressed your tattoo.

«Never. But I’ve marked you in other ways, don’t you think? Many ways, actually. By the way, you have some lovely tattoos.

Would you like to talk about them some day?»

«Absolutely. Give me some hours to recharge my batteries and I’ll be yours. Oh, and that harness you wore yesterday? I want two of them.»

«Fine. But if you’d like to wear it for lunch, for instance, you better ingrain in your brain that’ll be the only thing you'll be wearing for the rest of the day.»

Geto left a kiss at the corner of your lips as you processed what he just explicitly proposed.

And you surprised yourself even more when you got up and your hand clamped on the bone of contention five minutes after. God only knew how you managed to detect it among all those clothes scattered all over the floor.

«What if I wear it now? Would that intrigue you?»

«I’m very much intrigued by you already, my petal» Suguru watched you from across the room and tilted his head to the side, «but I might be damned if I try to stop you from doing such a thing.»

My petal you kept repeating those two words in your head, savouring them on your tongue.

Nope, never getting tired of how it sounded.

Once you were done with the leathery accessory, you caressed the material with a finger and walked towards your partner.

His gaze pierced through the window of your soul even after your legs had settled on the outside of his thighs. You let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding in as his lips closed around your hard nipple, gush of lust dripping down your legs all over again.

That time, though, he wasn’t the least interested in taking charge.

«Suddenly I’m not sleepy anymore.» he affirmed, amused yet turned on by the sight of you wearing nothing but one of his harnesses.

Henceforth, he’d let you wear it anytime you wanted if that made you happy.

«Good.» your whispers on his neck gave him goosebumps. «’Cause I want to ride your dick ‘till we both have enough. Told you I fuck attractive men real good.»

The statement stirred delight within the tattoo artist, his long hair untamed when his lips clashed against yours.

Amusement wasn’t the only thing that sprang out after that, though.

«Then do it, petal. I’m waiting.»

#geto suguru #geto x reader #geto x you #geto smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #voice of cassandra

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itwasthereaminuteago · 7 months

Text

Frank Castle x female reader

Tags/warnings: broken bones, masturbation, slightly bratty pillow princess reader, oral, fingering, penetrative sex.

Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed, thanks 😁

W/c: ~3200

You wished you had a cool backstory, an epic tale that involved maybe saving a dog from being run over by a truck, protecting an old lady from a mugger, or helping stop a horde of ninjas taking over Hell’s Kitchen, but no… the reason that both your wrists and most of your hands were currently wrapped in rigid plaster casts was the result of just being a little bit too tipsy. It wasn’t even really your fault if you dug right into it, it was Karen who had invited you out to Josie’s while Frank was out running rooftops with Matt for the past week or so. You were bored and just wanted to relax and have a bit of fun. It wasn’t fair (or your fault) that you didn’t possess any super senses or were particularly competent in any useful skill other than downing the infamous ‘eel’ (or probably more like ‘worm’) contained in the disturbingly cloudy bottle of tequila in the aforementioned bar, and if the pavement had been uneven (again, not your fault) and you tripped over, flung out your arms to brace yourself and stop yourself from falling right on your face then…

Frank wasn’t impressed. Barely sympathetic when he heard your pained complaints as you sobered up late the next morning, making you wince and swear blind at him as he checked out both your swollen and bruised limbs to confirm, “Yep, you’ve broken em.” he said in a grouchy ‘it’s your own fault’ kinda way. Boo.

Unfortunately, this time your comfort method had backfired spectacularly. You woke up in the middle of the night hornier than you’d been for a long time. The wrong-sized sweatpants were bunched up between the apex of your thighs rubbing against your clit as you tossed and turned in your sleep, the crotch of them was almost drenched with how turned on you were and now you just wanted nothing more than to get off.

You huffed in frustration, you’d gone to bed last night like every other night for the past while, alone. With Frank away until the early morning you usually slung on one of his t-shirts and sometimes a pair of his sweatpants so you could snuggle down to sleep with his scent around you.

You reached down with one hand, slipping your few free fingers under the waistband of the soft fabric to slide them between your slippery folds as you let your knees fall open with a soft sigh. You squirm around as you teased yourself a little, Frank's shirt riding up and exposing your stomach and the undersides of your breasts. You try tweaking and pulling at your nipple while you rubbed your finger over your clit, but no matter which way you try to move, you couldn’t get your arm in the right position.

You reach the other hand down and gather up some of the slick wetness at your entrance before pushing your first two fingers inside. It feels good and you start to moan as you slide them in a little further and speed up the ones that are circling your clit. Or try to. With the knuckles of your fingers almost all covered by the cast you’re not nearly as dexterous, you can't flex your wrist or move them and play with yourself the way you usually do, or the way Frank does…

Shit. Nevermind, you could still fuck yourself, couldn’t you?

All your sex toys are battery powered and all the fucking batteries are dead and you keep forgetting to buy any more, because ‘Frank’s always gonna be there to make sure I’m satisfied, I’m never gonna need another toy again’. The drunken boast you made to Karen a few nights ago not sounding quite so true now…

You shift about trying to reach further with both hands, desperately trying to curl the fingers that are inside and stimulate that spongey spot that nearly always makes you soak Frank’s hand, try to make the tight, fast circles around your swollen clit that have your toes curling. But it’s no use, you can’t reach the angle, you can’t get the speed, you can’t push yourself over that edge that you so desperately wanna fall over.

You have an idea, grabbing Frank’s pillow from next to you, pushing it down between your thighs and squeezing them tightly together as you try to get yourself off by humping it. Again, you creep a bit closer but it's not enough, you can’t finish, you can’t make yourself come.

Thinking about his thick fingers and his talented tongue isn’t helping. Thinking about his perfect, cock ramming into you and splitting you open ISN’T HELPING.

“FUCK!” you almost scream, working your hips, trying to get leverage, probably looking like a dog in heat. You don’t care, you are a bitch in heat, you need to be fucked. Where the fuck was Frank, shouldn't he be back by now?

“God…DAMMIT!!!” you yell as you fling the pillow across the room and go back to trying with your fingers again. Tears are pricking at the corners of your eyes, you just want to have a nice orgasm and go back to sleep and then maybe Frankie will slip into bed beside you and everything will be okay.

You could call him. He had always said ‘only if it’s an emergency.’ Well, this is a fucking emergency Frankie. You reach for your phone, awkwardly holding it in one stiff hand and jabbing the screen with the other. It rings out.

Wait…

You hear a vibrating buzz coming from the next room, He’s left his fucking phone at home.

Vibrating…buzz?

Maybe you could put it in a sock or something and-

No.

BLEEP-BLOOP.

Yes. Its a fucking emergency after all. You get up and retrieve the phone, quickly setting an alarm to go off in the next minute before slipping it inside a clean sock and clambering back into bed, holding it in your hand, pressing it into your clit.. You’re a genius, you think to yourself as the alarm silently goes off and our clit gets buzzed delightfully by the regular rhythmic vibrations. It’s not long until you’re nearing that precipice again, pleasure building and building. You wish you could change the settings to make it faster, make it extra vibratey but it’ll do, it’s fine, it’s good, oh it’s so good, fuck, you’re almost… almost-

You throw the phone and sock across the room to join the pillow in the realm of failed improvised sextoys, groaning as you squeeze your thighs together to try to relieve the persistent ache there.

It stops. You're panting, quickly pulling the phone out of the sock and pressing on the side button, Nothing. You try again… nothing. The battery has only gone and fucking died. You could cry.

Then, there’s the sound of keys in the door lock.

Holy hell your sinful prayers have been answered! He’s home!

You sit up on the bed on your knees, Frank’s ruined sweatpants long discarded on the floor, his shirt too long and draping over your spread thighs as you wait in anticipation for him to come in and take you hard.

He almost stumbles over the pillow and clothes littering the floor. “Aww jesus christ babygirl,” he whispers under his breath, “why is all this shit-” He looks up, realising you’re awake and sitting there staring at him like he’s cake.

He’s quiet, probably not wanting to wake you up thinking you’re fast asleep, not dripping wet and desperately rabid. You listen to him piss, wash his hands, face, and brush his teeth before he makes his way into the bedroom.

“Hey, what’re you still doin’ up?” he asks, leaning across to switch on the bedside lamp.

It’s then he clocks the absolutely wild look in your eyes as you clasp around his arm as best you can.

“Couldn’t sleep. Too horny.” Your staccato response has him raising his brows as you’re still tugging at his arm and trying to get him into bed with you. “I need to come!”

Crinkles appear in his forehead as he tilts his head in confusion. “Why didn’t ya have a lil playtime sweetheart? You know I’m usually not back home till early. ‘Sides you’re usually out cold snorin’ next to me after a couple of orgasms.' he chuckles as your mouth turns downward in a frown.

“Oh yeah, wow, didn’t think of that!" You snark. "I can’t get myself off Frankie,” You hold up your forearms. “i've tried everything! Stupid casts won’t let me and your stupid phone that you left here ran out of battery or it woulda made a half decent vibrator!” you pout.

“Say what now?" Frank starts to laugh. "Oh damn. That’s some shitty karma right there ain’t it honey? Hah!”

You make a growling sound that sounds ridiculous even to your own ears as your pouty face becomes even more extreme. “It’s not funny! I’m actually dying, I need to come and you've gotta help me!”

Frank gently shakes free of your grasp. “Don’t think so sweetie, this is what’s called ‘payback’. A lil lesson in why not to get stinkin’ drunk on wormrot at that fucking dump of a bar.”

“Just ‘cos you don’t know how to have any fun! Big, grouchy, fucking ass! You know you want a piece of this.” you drawl as you turn around baring and shaking your naked ass and glistening pussy at him. “Huh? C’mon Frankie,” you whine, “Fuck me.”

"Now that… that's just rude, baby." Frank shakes his head distractedly as he shrugs off his canvas jacket and sits down on the bed, his back leaning against the wall. "Not gonna ask how it went tonight, if I'm alright? Coulda been injured or somethin'."

You turn your head and look him over. "Are you injured?"

"No." He grabs the scruff of the t-shirt you're wearing and pulls you back against him. “Jesus christ.” he grumbles as you almost fall into his lap. “S’that my shirt?”

"Is that so?" Frank barks out a laugh as he finally cups, kneads and squeezes one of your breasts in his hand making you moan. He grips one of your wrapped up wrists with his other hand. "Sweetheart, this is gonna be an extended lesson, so pay attention."

You nod, sighing as his big hands start to run up your sides, rucking up the fabric and just barely brushing over the sides of your breasts. “Mmn, I was wearing your gray pants too, but I kinda messed them up. In a way, it’s your fault I'm horny so you should really be helping me out.”

You tip your head back so you can see his face, your eyes wide and dark in the low light of the lamp. "Don't need a lesson Frankie, just need your dick, your mouth, your fingers, god- just anything!"

"Nah. You gotta ask nice baby, or you ain't gettin' shit." Frank growls and it sends a shiver through you as he stares you down. You love it when he takes control and gets a little mean and you encourage it. But, you still just want him to take care of you so you change your tactics.

"Okay I won't get stupidly drunk, fall over and break both wrists ever again if you do this for me now!" You grind your ass against the crotch of his jeans and he hmms and places a soft kiss on the side of your neck that only makes your blood run hotter.

"You're a little minx." He counters, unmoving.

"You can do better than that princess."

Your mouth drops open with a degree of mock offense. "I'm in a great deal of distress, you can't leave me like this, it's cruel!"

You huff and he smiles, still waiting patiently for you to break. Fine.

"Pleeeeease Frank," you begin to beg, wriggling in his arms. He lifts his gaze up to the ceiling as if in deep consideration. You're so extremely frustrated, wound so tight, you can't deal with his teasing mood right now.

"Frankiiiie, please, need you…" you keep begging, turning in his arms, pawing at him all pathetic and awkward with your cast wrists, your eyes wide and shining. "Only you can make me feel soooo good, just please, please..?" You pepper soft kisses all over his face and lips until he fixes you with those deep brown eyes. "I'll make it so good for you too," you purr, scratching your nails through the short fuzzy hair at the back of his neck that never fails to make him give in.

"Goddamn… shit. Has Red been givin' you negotiating tips on the sly? Alright sweetheart c'mon," he eases you up off his lap, laying you down on your back and you watch as he reaches behind grabbing the back of his shirt and pulling it off over his head in one movement. When he's kicking off his boots and starts unbuckling his belt you feel the butterflies awaken in your belly, coyly drawing your knees up towards your chest, suddenly so submissive as he strips fully naked and prowls to you. He wrenches your legs open, wasting no time in burying his face between your thighs, tongue dragging right up the very center of your cunt as his strong hands grip your flesh. Your body snaps up off the mattress as he sucks hard at your needy clit, you're trying not to smack your hands off the bed which would potentially cause you even more damage so you settle for clawing at the sheets instead as Frank groans along with you, the vibrations of it pushing deep into your throbbing core as he takes you so quickly all the way up to that sweet edge you've been chasing all night.

His eyes flutter closed at the sensation. Fuck yes, you've got him.

Your eyes shut tight, the back of your head digging into the pillow and your back arching up off the bed as he's utterly relentless in his mission to make you come apart on his tongue. It's not long till he succeeds, you've been ready for it for what feels like hours, giving yourself over as the pure pleasure of an orgasm finally hits you like a truck. You moan loud, likely waking the neighbours as the thick waves of long-awaited bliss judder through your body, whimpering incessantly as he doesn't stop there, kissing your clit as he eases two thick fingers inside your pussy. He curls them, rubbing the sweet spot you were unable to reach, fucking them in and out of you and relishing in your clipped gasping cries as you feel yourself coming all over again in a matter of minutes. It's quick and powerful and Frank palms his crotch as your pussy walls contract around his fingers.

"Fuck yes, god, please just- ahhh!" The sensation of him sliding in and slowly stretching you open, no matter how ready you think you are, always makes your eyes roll back in your skull. And when he's fully sheathed inside as close as you both can be, his forehead resting softly against yours, nothing can ever compare.

You feel him move over you before you open your eyes again, his hips shifting between your legs as they fall open, the head of his cock bumping against your inner thigh as he lifts one of your legs higher to give him access.

"Hey princess," the thick, dark honey of his tone seeps right down into your bones and raises your skin in goosebumps. "You still good, baby? You still want me, huh?" He checks in, holding his cock in his hand and wetting the fat head of it in your copious arousal.

He fills your senses, his solid strength around you, his familiar scent tinged with that of the streets he's been patrolling, mixed with a bit of stale sweat, and the tang of fresh blood from the tiniest split in his lower lip. You stick out your tongue to lick over it, smirking a little as he hisses at the brief sting. Then he presses back, his lips against your lips, his tongue slow, sure and sinful as he kisses you properly and you can't help but melt into it.

"Yeah, there you go," Frank coos as he snaps his hips fast and hard making you whimper. "You gonna give me one more, make it good f'me?"

When he eventually pulls back the look in his eyes is soft, but then he starts to move and it's not gentle. You asked him to fuck you and fuck you is exactly what he's gonna do.

You can only breathe his name as he quickly coaxes you to yet another soaring high. You can't hold onto him the way you're yearning to with your stupid casts in the way, but you try your best, your fingers clawing up his broad back while he ruts into you. He feels so fucking good, always so good, and whether he's tender or brutal with your body his immense love for you is always so clear. He'd do anything for you, even if you are a fucking idiot sometimes.

"Fuuuck, attagirl baby, that's it, y'gonna come f'me?" He has his left arm braced by your shoulder, the other hand with fingers splayed across your throat just where it drives you insane. You didn't think you could after the intensity of the first two orgasms but when you whimper and nod he slides his hand down between your hot bodies to focus his attention on your swollen clit. He knows just the speed and pressure you need along with the way he's fucking his cock in and out of you with long, deep strokes. He swears, low and sexy as you clench and come around him with a high breathy moan, his rhythm rapidly faltering as you bring him to his end too and he unloads inside of you with a gorgeous moan.

"Mmhn… Frankie!" You warn him that you're close as he pushes your thighs back towards your chest, almost folding you in half as he pounds you into the bed.

You stay in each other's arms for a time, until you feel too gross and sticky. Frank helps you have a quick shower without getting your casts wet, bundling you up in a fluffy towel while you sleepily enquire about his evening's exploits. You listen as best you can about the low level gang of assholes that had their asses handed to them by him and Red that night, tracing your fingers gently over his brow where you discover another little cut and bruise you'd hadn't noticed before now.

"Y'told me you weren't injured," you gently scold, your eyes heavy.

"It ain't nothin' big, not like this." He says, tapping your wrist before gently kissing the little scowl off your face with a sly chuckle.

"Yeah okay, thank you, I've learned my lesson, no need to rub it in mister…" you try to stifle your yawn and Frank reaches over to turn off the bedside lamp and cuddles you close to his chest.

"You feelin' better now sweetheart?"

He smiles to himself and kisses the top of your head as your soft snores come as a reply. "G'night princess."

#frank castle x female reader #frank castle smut

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