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moonlit-stay · 3 years

Text

· . * · ° ☆ Three's A Crowd

☆ Pairing: Jisung x Female Reader x Felix

☆ Genre: Smut and Fluff

☆ Word Count: 3.4k

☆ Warnings: Threesome, Soft!Dom Jisung, Soft!Dom Felix, Sub!Fem reader, facesitting, face fucking, hair pulling, double penetration, choking, slight nipple play, creampie, unprotected sex, reader has a slight voice kink, sex on a rooftop

☆ Other Warnings: Corny jokes, light-hearted teasing, cheesy lovey-dovey scenes, reader is a sap for all 8 members

☆ Please let me know if I missed anything

Color(s) Of This Fic: Black, Canary Yellow, and Dark Blue <3

If you are under the age of 18, please do not interact with this fic. This fic contains inappropriate content and is strictly 18+

Everything written in all of my work is consensual. Even if not stated within the work.

Enjoy :)

A rooftop bathed in moonlight, a dark sky full of bright stars, and a chill in the air that caused a shiver to run up your spine as the air hit your delicate skin. Leaning over the concrete walls of the rooftop you watch the busy streets below you before redirecting your attention to the night sky. The sky was calm and mellow, quite the opposite of not only the streets below you, but the premises of the rooftop behind you, as well.

You're brought out of your thoughts when you feel a pair of arms snake around your waist. Immediately you relax into the embrace, closing your eyes as you bask in the safety and comfort the embrace provides.

"Hi, Lixie." You whisper, feeling as the man behind you smiles into the crook of your neck.

"Hi, angel." He responds, his voice sending chills throughout your body as he nestles his head further into your neck.

"Look how pretty." You whisper to him as you stare off into the night sky. He moves his head to rest on your shoulder, staring at you intently while you look at the stars in awe. You turn to look at him, feeling his gaze nearly burn a hole through your head. "I meant the stars, Lix." You say, feeling the blush creep up your cheeks as he smiles and turns to look at the sky with you.

"You're cute, you know that?" He states as he rests his head on top of yours, still staring up at the sky.

"Shut up." You respond, poking his side. He giggles, satisfied with your flustered state.

After a few minutes, Felix is called to film his part of the music video. You follow him back to where the rest of the boys are before he parts ways with you to film his part. The other members are all sat around a screen monitoring the scenes they recently filmed. You walk towards Jisung, feeling him grab your hips and pull you onto his lap the second you got within his reach.

"Jesus, Sung." You breathe out, being caught off guard by his sudden need for your presence.

"It's actually pronounced 'Jisung', but you were close." He shrugs, watching as you roll your eyes before laughing at him.

"Aren't you funny?" You grin down at him as he smiles, wrapping his arms around you as he redirects his attention to the monitoring screen.

You watch the scenes of Jisung's part that he recently finished filming play on the screen in front of you. When you catch sight of what's on the screen, you froze. There was something about the way Jisung's hair laid so perfectly. Something about the way his clothes fit him like a glove, accentuating his body in all the right places. Something about the way his confidence shines like one of the stars you were looking at earlier. Something about him sitting on top of that car. Something about his facial expressions and hand gestures. You sit with your eyes glued to the screen, nearly drooling over the way his arms look in his sleeveless shirt. You mindlessly shift in your spot on Jisung's lap and his hands fly to your waist, his hold on you tight as he seizes your movements.

"Easy, baby." He breathes out, tracing patterns into your hips.

"I'm sorry." You apologize, standing up quickly. "I-I'm gonna go take a walk. Way over there." You state, walking away before Jisung got a chance to say anything else.

You walk back over to the part of the rooftop you were at with Felix earlier, taking a deep breath as the air around you felt hot, suffocating, even though the weather itself was rather cool. You pace back and forth, practically tracing the concrete walls of the building while your thoughts run wild.

The scenes you had just watched did more to affect you than you cared to admit, and there was no way you would let Jisung know. All you had to do was finish taking your little walk and you'd be fine.

Soon enough, Felix found you at your spot on the roof again.

"All finished?" You ask him, watching as he nods and grabs your hand, pulling you back towards the monitoring screen.

"Mhm, come see!" He replies, lacing his fingers with yours as you both hurry to the monitoring screen.

Felix pulls you to stand in front of him, his hands on your waist and his head resting on top of your own as you watch his scenes play on the screen intently.

You feel hot all over as you squeeze your thighs together. You let out a shaky breath, which was quiet and went unnoticed by the people around you, but it echoed through your own ears as your heart beats out of your chest. The only thing that was keeping you grounded at this point, was the rhythm Lix was tapping onto your hips with his fingers.

You're brought back to reality by the sound of the director wrapping up the shoot. Claps sound throughout the rooftop as the members line up, bowing and thanking the staff before everyone goes in separate directions, collecting their things as the staff makes their way off the roof.

You're left with the 8 boys, watching as they all bust out into a random game of tag, chasing each other around like little kids. Screams and laughter echo through the rooftop as you stand off to the side, watching your best friends with eyes full of love.

Amidst the chaos, you catch sight of Jeongin approaching you with a shit eating grin plastered on his face.

"Yang Jeongin, don't you dare!" You warn as he continues to walk towards you with nothing but mischief and determination in his eyes.

You slowly start backing away from him before turning around and full-on sprinting away from him. He laughs, chasing after you as you weave your way through the rest of the boys. You soon notice that Jeongin had stopped chasing you, bent over with his hands on his knees while he tries to catch his breath.

"How are you so fast?!" He asks you out of breath.

"Magic." You shrug, laughing at how out of breath he really is. "It's amazing what you're capable of when you feel threatened." You laugh.

The boys continued to play as you break away from them, heading to your car to find your bags before pulling out a big, thick blanket that you brought to lay on the rooftop. Finding an open spot that wasn't in the way of the boys playing tag, you roll out the blanket before laying on it to watch the stars. You lay there for a while before the boys had finished playing tag and decided it was time to head home. Jisung and Felix walk over to you, hearing Jisung chuckle as they both observe the sight of you watching the stars.

"Hello, my sunshine twins. Care to watch the stars with me?" You ask, patting the open spaces on both sides of you. They exchange questioning glances before shrugging and joining you on the blanket.

The three of you lay there, watching the stars as you hear the rest of the boys pile into their van.

"I take it you three are gonna be here for a bit more?" Chan asks, chuckling at the sight of you three laying on the rooftop. You lift your head to look at him.

"Yea, but we won't be too long. I'll bring them home safe, Channie, don't worry." You tell him, watching as he nods at you before getting in the van himself.

A comfortable silence quickly settled in among the three of you. The only noises being the three of you pointing star constellations out to each other and the few cars that would drive by the building every now and then.

"So, what'd you think of the scenes of the music video you've seen so far?" Jisung asks, glancing at you from his spot next to you.

"I really love them. You guys have done so well this comeback. I'm truly so proud of you all. Not to mention, you two look absolutely incredible." You state, not once looking away from the sky.

"You really think so?" Felix asks you with excitement in his voice.

"Of course, I do! I'm always proud of the eight of you!" You tell them, lacing your hands with the both of them as they both mumble a shy 'thank you'.

Your phone dings with a text message and reluctantly, you pull away from your two best friends to read it.

"Make sure you guys don't stay out too late. Let me know when you're on your way back. Please be careful, love you three."

You giggle at Chan's protective nature, replying to him with, "will do, we love you too <3" before putting your phone back.

You turn around, watching as Felix sits up and moves towards you. You look up at him with wide eyes as he stops a mere centimeter from your face. Your breath gets caught in your throat as he cups the side of your face before pressing his lips to yours.

Your brain is screaming at you to pull away, but you instantly relax in his hold, kissing him back as you melt into him. Felix pulls away from you, pressing his forehead against yours as he gently holds your face.

"Do you trust us?" He whispers to you as Jisung moves closer to the two of you.

"Yes." You breathe out almost immediately, watching as a devilish smirk creeps onto Felix's features as he moves away from you so Jisung can take his place.

Jisung grabs at your hips, pulling you onto his lap as he connects his lips to yours. You sigh into the kiss, reaching up to tug at his hair. Felix comes up behind you, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your neck as you moan into Jisung's mouth when Felix finds your sweet spot. You start grinding on Jisung's lap, your hips moving on their own accord as he groans.

"Is our baby needy?" Felix asks you as he continues to kiss along your neck.

You pull away from Jisung, nodding frantically as you lean back onto Felix's shoulder, Jisung guiding your hips as you let out soft moans. Felix trails his kisses down to your shoulders, before gently tugging at the hem of your shirt. You lean forward, pulling your shirt over your head before tossing it somewhere on the blanket. Jisung's eyes glue to your chest immediately as Felix gently pulls the straps of your bra down your shoulders.

"Can I take this off you, angel?" He asks in a whisper that sends goosebumps along your skin. You nod in response before Felix tsks. "Words, angel. Need to hear you say it."

"Yes, please, Lix." You moan out, your hips never slowing on Jisung's lap.

Felix unhooks your bra, watching as you let it fall in front of you before you toss it over with your shirt. Jisung moans out, grabbing ahold of your waist as he bucks his hips. You reach behind you, grabbing ahold of Felix's hands and bringing them to your boobs as you throw your head back onto his shoulder, letting out high-pitched moans.

"Is Jisung making you feel good, baby?" Felix asks as he lightly tugs on your nipples, causing you to cry out.

"Fuck! So good Lix, so good."

Right as the words left your mouth, Jisung reaches his high and brings your hips to a halt. You whine at the loss of friction before Felix puts you in his lap, immediately pressing his lips to yours. Your hips start moving on Felix's lap, his grip on your waist holds you in place as you whine into the kiss.

"Patience, baby. We'll give you what you need." Felix tells you before he gently pushes you back on the blanket.

Jisung takes his place, crawling between your legs as he starts to press kisses down your body. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your jeans before looking up at you with pleading eyes.

"Please, Jisung, I need you." You whine out, lifting your hips to help Jisung fully undress you.

Jisung sits back on his heels, pulling his shirt over his head as he tosses his shirt and the remaining of your clothes into the growing pile of clothes on the blanket.

"Want you to sit on my face, baby. Can you do that for me?" Jisung asks as he lays on his back grabbing at your hips.

"I don't wanna hurt you, Sungie."

"You won't, baby, it's ok. Come here." He soothes, watching as you slowly crawl towards his head.

The second you're within his reach he grabs ahold of your thighs, helping you settle on his face. He wraps his arms around your thighs and pulls you flush against his mouth. You jolt letting out a loud moan as you throw your head back.

Felix walks towards you two, standing above Jisung's legs as he gently grips your chin, forcing your gaze on him. You look up at him before shakily reaching up to palm him over his jeans.

"Need you, Lixie." You moan out, applying more pressure to his length.

Felix bucks his hips into your hand before ridding himself of his jeans and shirt, throwing them in the pile as well.

He runs his tip along your lips before you open your mouth and wrap your lips around his tip. You slowly sink down on him, running your tongue along the underside of his length as you slowly come back up. Felix grabs a fistful of your hair, guiding you along his length as he gently thrusts into your mouth.

Your legs start to shake as you get closer to your high, your moans sending vibrations through Felix's length as he throws his head back.

Jisung wraps his lips around your clit and sucks harshly, causing you to pull off Felix and let out a soft scream. Felix guides you back onto his length, holding your head steady as he fucks into your mouth. You grab his thighs, digging your nails into the flesh as you moan around his length. Feeling him twitch in your mouth, you hollow your cheeks as you cum on Jisung's tongue. Felix holds your head still with both hands as he slams his cock down your throat. The vibrations of your moans mixed with you swallowing around his length sends him over the edge as he cums down your throat with deep groans. You swallow his cum, looking up at him with tear-stained cheeks as you stick your tongue out to show him. He swears under his breath before helping you to your feet.

You stand with wobbly legs, stepping in front of Felix as Jisung sits up from his spot on the blanket. Felix turns you around in his hold so you're looking at Jisung. You couldn't help but notice the tent in his jeans and without thinking twice, you drop to your knees in front of him. You hook your middle fingers into the waistband of his jeans before looking up at him, he nods frantically, chest heaving as you rid him of his remaining clothes as well.

You run your tongue along his tip, watching as he immediately bucks his hips into your mouth. You sink onto his length, swallowing around him when your nose hits his pelvic bone. He guides you along his length as Felix lays on his back between your legs, pulling you to sit on his face.

It doesn't take Jisung long before he's thrusting up into your mouth, the sound of you gagging on his length only spurring him on as he tugs on your hair. Felix sucks on your clit before sliding two digits into your entrance. You moan continuously around Jisung's length as Felix curls his fingers inside you. Jisung holds your head down on his length as he cums down your throat with low moans. You swallow, pulling off him with a scream as you cum on Felix's tongue and around his fingers.

You rest your head against Jisung's thigh as you try and catch your breath. The three of you lay there for a few minutes before Felix is grabbing at your hips.

"Lay on your side for me, angel." He orders, watching as you mindlessly do what you're told. He smirks at how fucked out you already are.

He comes up behind you, pulling one of your legs over his waist as he reaches between your legs, spreading your previous release to your ass.

"You ready for me, angel?" He asks you as he motions Jisung over.

"Yes." You whimper out.

Felix slowly pushes into your ass as you cry out. Jisung presses his lips to yours as Felix kisses along your back, trying to distract you from any pain. Once Felix is fully sheathed inside you, he pulls your head to the side, connecting your lips as Jisung lines himself up with your entrance, pushing inside you slowly.

You cry out once Jisung bottoms out. You feel full, so very full as both of their lengths are buried deep inside you. You mindlessly clench around them and they both moan out at the same time. Felix grabs your thigh, Jisung grabs your hip and they begin to set a steady rhythm. One of them thrusting inside you while the other pulls out so there's never a point where you're empty. Your head spins with the feeling of both your holes full to the brim as you cry out from pleasure.

"Look at our beautiful baby, taking both our cocks like they were made for her." Jisung grunts out, reveling in the way you can't form proper sentences anymore.

"Feels so good you can't respond to us, baby? Are we fucking you that good?" Felix asks, punctuating each of his sentences with a particularly hard thrust.

"Harder, please." You moan out, tears streaming down your face.

They both comply, fucking you harder as Felix reaches up to put a hand around your throat, and Jisung reaches down to wrap his lips around one of your nipples as he rolls the other between his fingers.

You scream, feeling overwhelmed by the amount of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Doing so good for us, baby. So fucking good." Felix praises through gritted teeth. Gripping your thigh tighter as he fucks into you harder.

Jisung hits a spot deep inside you that has your eyes rolling back as you let out a high-pitched scream.

"There! Right fucking there, Sung." You manage to yell out.

Jisung continues to angle his hips so he hits that special spot everytime he thrusts into you.

"Yea? Right there, baby? You close? Gonna cum on me and Lix's cocks?" He asks, abusing your g-spot as you shake in their holds.

All you can do is nod and moan their names like mantras as your eyes roll back into your head.

"C-close." You stutter out, grabbing onto Felix's wrist and Jisung's bicep. "Please, please, please, please." You ramble, not even knowing what it is you're asking for.

"Cum for us, angel." Felix whispers in your ear as you come undone around them.

"Want you to cum inside me." You mewl out as you grip onto them tighter.

Jisung's grip on your hip is bruising as he pushes into you as far as he can before he cums inside you, with Felix doing the same right after.

Felix removes his hand from your throat as Jisung pulls off your nipple with a pop. Felix pulls out of you first and you whine at the loss of contact. Jisung pulls you into his chest patting your head as he presses gentle kisses to your forehead. Felix gets your bag from your car, coming back to clean you up.

Reluctantly, Jisung pulls out of you and you nearly sob from the feeling of being empty. Felix and Jisung both watch as their release spills out of both your holes, groaning at the sight before cleaning you up and helping you get dressed. They both quickly get dressed before cleaning up the rest of their stuff and then joining you back on the blanket.

It was late, really late. Chan was probably worried due to the fact that two of his kids weren't home and he hadn't heard anything from the three of you in hours. However, the three of you didn't seem to care, Jisung sending him a quick message letting him know that you were all ok and would be home soon.

For now, the only thing they cared about was laying under the stars with you in between them as you slept peacefully. They nuzzled into your sides admiring the night sky, even if just for a little while longer.

Masterlist

*·°Author's note°·*

This idea came to me after watching the CHEESE video and I have been completely losing my shit over it since.

I am not ok. Please send help :')

°·*Taglist*·°

@kpophubb @whatudowhennooneseesyou @skzgallll

Send me a DM or an ask if you'd like to be added to the taglist!!

·°*Other Tings*°·

Released: November 12th, 2021

Please reblog my works. Share your thoughts if you'd like, even if it's just a simple keyboard smash.

I read every caption, tag, reply, ask, and dm. Feedback is what motivates me to continue to create content <3

#stray kids smut #stray kids smut imagines #han jisung smut #lee felix smut

289 notes · View notes

volleychumps · 4 years

Note

Hi hi! Can I get a tendou, oikawa, kageyama and atsumu after a fight where they make up? Fluffy ending please! ❤️

I BEEN WAITIN FOR THIS ONE- TURN IT UP

Aftermath of a Fight w/ Their S/O- (Tendou, Oikawa, Kageyama, Atsumu)

Warning(s): slight angst in some of these, implied nsfw (by Atsumu ofc lmfao), but no direct nsfw themes

--------------------------

Tendou

“...sunshine, open the door.”

“Don’t sunshine me.”

The snap of your voice had the redhead flinching, fist that had been risen to softly knock on the wooden door sinking along with the weight in his chest. Tendou taps his forehead against the door, hearing your soft whimpers on the other side.

“Y/N, please-” He starts, wincing when the door is suddenly flung open, red eyes widening when you bump your shoulder with his in passing. Desperately, he reaches his hand out abruptly to snatch your wrist before you can stomp irritably to the front door.

“Satori let go.” Heat brimmed your eyes as you refused to meet Tendou’s pleading ones,

“Hell no. You’re going right back into that bedroom, tuck yourself into the sheets, and let me make you as many mugs of tea as you want.”

His attempted joke had cracks in his voice, and you find yourself wavering before finally meeting his eyes, lip quivering. You wanted this to be over, and the way Tendou’s lips had stretched into a strained smile in a sad attempt to not let you see how much he really just needed you made you begin to raise the white flag.

“I don’t want tea.” You mumble finally, Tendou’s head lifting all of a sudden as his eyes brighten. A yelp tumbles from your lips as Tendou’s long arms wrap around your waist, lifting you off the ground as he hugged you tightly to his chest, burying his face into the crook of your neck with his slender fingers entangled in your hair.

“I’m sorry for snappin’ at you, sunshine.”

“All this because I knocked over your manga shelf?” A choked laugh escapes your lips as Tendou pulls back, mock-offense in his eyes while keeping both hands on the sides of your face.

“They were alphabatized!”

“Whatever.” You sniff, tears now dry on your cheeks as your thumbs wipe at the corner of Tendou’s eyes, looking up at him doe-eyed.

“...Can we get into bed together?”

Tendou’s grin was wide as he lifted your hand to his lips, scarlet eyes filled with now feigned sadness as he kisses your knuckle.

“But then who would bring us tea?”

“I don’t want tea, Satori!”

Oikawa

“They don’t mean anything to me, Y/N.”

“Hm? I didn’t say anything.” You bite back, jerking away from Oikawa’s motions to help you drape your jacket off your body as you do it yourself. The brunette sighs, slipping his frames off his face to wipe at them with the end of his shirt, not looking up.

“You don’t have to. I know when you get like this, and you didn’t have to make a scene.”

“A scene?!” You blink in disbelief as Oikawa puts his frames back on, shaking his head slightly as if getting annoyed all over again.

“What do you want me to do? Physically push them away?”

“How about, I have a girlfriend so hands off?”

“I guess there just isn’t any winning with you, is there, Y/N?”

You chuckle humorlessly, turning on your heel to face him head-on with a lump in your throat. “Well then why keep up the flirting act right in front of me? Unless it’s not an act, then-”

“How could you even say that?”

Oikawa’s breath caught in his throat, watching your eyes well up with unshed tears of insecurity as you huff, throwing your jacket on the couch while turning around.

“Because maybe they’ll be good enough for me to lose you.” Your voice came out in a whisper, but they didn’t fall on deaf ears as the tears now streamed freely down your cheeks. Gently, Oikawa’s arms pull you into his embrace as chocolate-orbs now riddled with guilt peer down at you, not flinching when you push lightly on his chest.

His hold on you tightens, mumbling into your hair.

“They’re not you, princess.”

Oikawa couldn’t help smile slightly at the way you relaxed at the nickname, seeing he was no longer calling you by your given one, as he placed a gentle kiss atop your head, not minding the dampness on his shoulder.

“No one’s like you, so don’t think for a goddamn minute that there’s someone better, because I can guarantee you-”

You whimper a little when he lifts you by the chin, kissing one of your teary eyes now rid of any anger as his own stare sweetly at you through black frames.

“There isn’t.”

Kageyama

“Um, is it “National Ignore Your Significant Other Day” or are you pissed at me about something?”

“Hm. Funny joke for someone who pretends like it’s that holiday every single day.”

You don’t miss a beat, not looking up from the manga you were reading as you lay on your back upon your bed. Kageyama huffs at the fact that you don’t even spare him a glance before he takes a cautious seat on the edge of your bed.

“What are you talking about?” Kageyama just wanted cuddles. After a grueling practice yesterday and not seeing you wait up for him today, all he wanted was to fall asleep next to you.

“Nothing.” You say easily, and Kageyama frowns when he sees the slight tremble in your hold as you flip through the pages. Your eyes stay on the inked paper as Kageyama concentrates really hard, slipping off his jacket before blue-eyed widen in realization as he stops taking his jacket off mid-way.

“Shit....shit wait, yesterday wasn’t our ten months, was it?”

“And they say romance is dead.” You quip, letting the manga fall to your side as your eyes lock onto your ceiling with a heat threatening to spill over. “It’s not like you stood me up or anything, so don’t worry.”

“Oh, well that’s good-”

“Tobio, baby that was sarcasm.” You can’t help the venemous edge to your voice before you huff, Kageyama blinking in bewilderment as you turn on your side, facing away from him. You bite the inside of your cheek.

“I-I’m sorry...Y/N, I really forgot-”

“Because it wasn’t important to you, right?” You laugh a little, no humor behind the sound as you trace patterns onto your bedsheets. “Not as important as volleyball?”

“Don’t say that.” His words were harder now, and you gasp a little when Kageyama sits you up, forcing you to face him while glaring slightly at you, a blush on his cheeks.

“You...I thought today was the date. That’s why I stayed extra hours yesterday...so I can give all of today to you, and I fucked up, but...”

Kageyama clicks his tongue, shuffling around in his jacket pocket before emerging with a chain, a single charm holding two letters on it- kt.

“I’m sorry I’m a dumbass sometimes. Just...can I put this on you? And then can we just sleep and then wake up so we can go to some ridulous fancy-ass dinner?”

The moisture in your eyes was no longer of sadness as you lurched forward, kissing him sweetly on the lips as Kageyama sighs in relief at your touch, pressing the small of your back against him to close the distance even further-

it was all he had wanted, after all.

Atsumu

“You’re not mad at me right now, sweetheart.”

“Oh, I’m not? Thank you for the sudden revelation!” You gasp in shock, Atsumu hot on your heels as you furiously walked down the halls of one of the Black Jackals tournaments.

“Okay, you might be a little mad-”

“I’m pissed, Atsumu! That was your image, and people already think I’m messing it up-” You spin on your heel, sighing when Atsumu has to physically stop himself from crashing into you. He visibly wilts, and you swear you can see puppy dog ears atop his head as his shoulders sink.

“What happened to Tsum Tsum?”

“That’s all you heard?!”

“Why would I give a fuck about what the people think?” Atsumu blinks innocently. “All I care about is you...is that so wrong?”

You bite your lip, knowing he was being cute on purpose before rolling your eyes, trying not to give in.

“You don’t threaten the people in the audience, Atsumu!”

“Uh, yes I do if they’re eyein up my girl, sweetheart.” Atsumu’s brow raises as if he can’t believe this is even a discussion. “That ass is mine.”

“Atsumu!” You scold, cheeks flooding with heat as the passerbys look at the two of you strangely, prompting Atsumu to huff while crossing his arms.

“Don’t call me that!”

You groan, knowing there was no winning with your man-child of a boyfriend before Atsumu’s lips begin to lift, knowing he had successfully dispelled of your annoyance.

“Just...you make me so tired, you know that?”

“Aw, darlin’“ You can’t help the smile on your lips when he kisses your forehead sweetly, trailing down to your nose while hitting you with that shit-eating smirk.

“It’s what I do best.”

“Is everything about the bedroom with you?”

“Well, it is when you’re standing here in front of me looking like you want me to-”

“Public, Tsum Tsum! We’re in public.”

“Didn’t care then, don’t care now. Lighten up, sweetheart.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

General Works: @takemetovalhalla @savemesteeb @kasandrafaye @dreebbles @yams046 @aprettyfruit @therestless101 @deadontheinsidebut @therestless101 @dai-tsukki-desu @lifeisntjustblackandwhite @curiouslilbeast @wisepandaslimeland @lmkjimin @h0ngh0ngh0ng @orangegiraffe7 @let-me-have-my-own-name @theworldupthere @itz-tooru @kac-chowsballs

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boldlyvoid · 3 years

Note

CONGRATS ON 800, LOVE! IM SO SORRY I HAVENT BEEN ABLE TO SUBMIT SOMETHING EARLIER (this is shemarmooresfedora but from another acct because mine has been shadowbanned for some reason)

i’ll do ❤️🤡💄🛏 please and thank you

maybe like spencer invites you to something as his date and you’re both crushing on each other but it’s not official until the reservation only booked one room

I LOVE YOU DORY!!! i am so sorry you're shadowbanned that is so weird? i hope this cheers you up a little! thank you for all the love and support, and for helping me create little Jo in Amoreena <3

cw: flirting, fake married, mutual pining, high school reunions, assault, love confessions, one bed, implied sex, kissing,

1.4K

When he got the invitation in the mail, he thought nothing of it. He left it in the pile on his counter and went off to work the way he always would. He hasn’t been back to his old high school since he was 13, the 15 year reunion was coming up and he was invited.

He wasn’t going to go. He never went to any event unless it was a CalTech alumni event. Because there he was respected, there he was Doctor Spencer Reid, the FBI’s asset and excellent graduate. He was a nobody, a kid and a loser in high school.

“You okay?” Y/N notices he’s quieter than normal, he’s staring off past his desk and she’s worried for him.

“Huh?” He turns to her, “I’m fine.”

“Doesn’t look like it,” she whispers, “come get a coffee with me down at the kart?”

He nods and stands silently, following her out of the room and away from all their friends, in the elevator she knows he’s more comfortable.

“What’s going on, Spence?”

“My high school reunion is coming up, and I really want to go and prove to them that I’m not a dork anymore…” his voice is low and his eyes are fixated on the floor.

Her face drops, she pulls the emergency button and wraps herself around him. “You have never been a dork, Spencer. You have always been magnificent and they’re too dumb to see that.”

He holds her in return, settling as he rests his chin on her shoulder. She feels nice and warm, her hair smells like apples and her laundry detergent is all over her shirt.

“Would you come back to Vegas with me and pretend to be my girlfriend? Say things like that and make them think I’ve got it all?”

He cant see how much she smiles while they hug, “yes, I’d love to be your girlfriend for the day.”

—

She buys the nicest dress imaginable, they fly out to Vegas together and she’s so excited she forgot to ask for her own room. Or at least that’s what she tells him because she really wanted a chance to sleep with him, in more ways than one.

Even to just cuddle with Spencer Reid would be a gift, so she goes all out to seduce him. She looked impeccable, He was thinking it was her way of helping him show off… he was so clueless she was going to have to be the smart one when it came to getting him to see her as more than a friend. She wanted him, she was going to show him just how good she would be to him if she was his.

Her dress hugs her in all the right places, she wraps an arm around Spencer’s middle and holds him close. They walk in like they own the place, everyone is taking turns looking at them as they walk to the name tag table.

“Hi, Spener Reid,” he smiles, “and my plus one.”

“Hi,” Y/N waved at the woman behind the desk.

“Hello,” she smiles, “here are your name tags, Mr. and Mrs. Reid.”

“Oh we’re—“

“Thank you,” Y/N smiles, she takes the name tags from the woman. “Newlyweds, my rings getting resized, he’s still adjusting to the title.”

“Ah, my husband was the same, called it wedding bell shock,” she smiled, old enough to have a husband with shell-shock as well.

“Can I have a pen?” Y/N asks, “or a marker?”

“Here,” she hands her a sharpie.

Y/N leans onto the table to scratch out the Mr. and replace it with Dr. “He has 3 Ph.D.’s you know? My husband is the smartest man in the FBI.”

“Oh,” she looks shocked, “thank you for your service sir.”

He blushes and nods, “thank you.”

Y/N peels the sticker off and sticks it to Spencer's chest before leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of his nose, she gets lipstick on him. She smiles and wipes it off, “there, still cute.”

The rest of the night is much of the same; she hangs off him, telling all the people who used to bully him that she was so madly in love with him, he was super smart and he was so strong and sexy on the job.

She slips away from him to get a drink while he explains how profiling works to his crowd of new fans. She’s filling her cup with punch when a weird, balding man slides up beside her, his hand touching her waist. She looks at him quickly, recognizing his name from the worst childhood story Spencer ever shared with her.

“Hey there, hot stuff,” he tried to hit on her.

She puts her cup down calmly and takes his hand off her, bending his arm behind his back and slamming him face-first into the punch bowl. She pulls his face back up by his hair, “that was for touching me.”

Then she slams him onto the floor where he coughs out punch from his lungs. “And that was for what you did to my husband as a kid, he was a Kid! You may have peaked in high school, but at least Doctor Reid doesn’t have a widow's peak, like yours. He is the smartest, sexiest, and most wonderful man in the world and you're nothing but a loser.”

Spencer turns around at the sound of her voice, “oooo” echos around the gym as everyone looks at the scene unfolding. Patrick, the asshole quarterback that traumatized him as a child, was on the ground covered in red juice as he complained about a sore arm.

Y/N smiles at him and waves before rejoining Spencer, “he doesn’t know how to keep his hands to himself.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Spencer suggests and she is all too eager to skip out of the room with him, right past Patrick.

—

She slams him against the wall as soon as they’re inside the hotel room again, kissing him with more desperation than she’s ever felt in her life. She needed him, he was her last piece and then she’d be complete.

She breaks the kiss to move down his neck as she loosens his tie and unbuttons his shirt. “Are you sure we can be friends after this?”

“I’d hope my husband was my best friend,” she whispers against his skin.

He pulls her away from his neck, hands on her cheeks so he can look at her and read her expressions as best as possible, “I’m serious, I don’t want to do this if it’s going to make working together hard.”

“You’re an idiot,” she smiles, “I have been in love with you for months Spencer. I want this, I have wanted you for so long…”

His breathing changes as she explains her feelings, leaning in to kiss his neck again and make her way down his chest. “I’ve thought about this for so long Spencer, you have no idea how many dirty thoughts I have about doing things like this with you.”

“I got 1 bed on purpose,” he gasps out, “I wanted to sleep beside you… I hoped—

She smiles against him, “I know. That’s why I didn’t tell you to get 2…”

“You’re really not kidding?” He sounds so desperate it’s almost sad.

She stops her kissing and looks at him again, “why is it so hard for you to believe all the things I’ve said about you tonight? I’m not just trying to impress them, I’m telling the whole fucking world that the person I am in love with is the smartest man they will ever meet. People should bow at your feet, Spencer, let me appreciate you for how incredibly wonderful you are and stop doubting my feelings.”

“You love me?” Tears well in his eyes and he feels like a complete idiot, “why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I wanted you to admit it first,” she whispers, equally as embarrassed. “I have a huge crush on you Spence, it’s not just that I love you, I never want to stop. You’re so nice and kind and funny? And you make me smile every day and I laugh even on the worst days ever because you’re there, and when I think about the future and reunions and events like this that I have to go to one day, and all I want is to bring you along and show everyone that you’re mine.”

She rambled more than he did, “so please, will you unzip my dress and join me in our one bed, husband?”

“Absolutely, my beautiful wife,” he turns her around, moving her hair off her back, he kisses her shoulder softly.

He moves the zip down as slow as possible, kissing every inch of newly exposed skin as he did so. When he reached the end, she pushed the straps off her arms and let the dress fall to the floor.

Mission accomplished.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #blurb weekend 521 #800 celebration

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rextasywrites · 3 years

Text

Aftershow - Leon Kennedy x f!reader

with the help of some tricks and your best friend distracting the security guard, you manage to sneak into the after show of the world premiere of “Resident Evil - Infinite Darkness”. It tells the story of federal Agent Leon S. Kennedy, who, after retiring from his career as a federal agent, decided to tackle acting. Ever since you first saw him in “Resident Evil 2”, you were in love with him and couldn’t wait to meet him. So...what would happen at this afterparty?

hey lads i’m back! i hope you enjoy this piece i have been writing the past few days! hope you are doing well xoxo

Warnings: alcohol, smut, Leon being an ass to others sometimes

Your dress clung to your body, making you feel like some overstuffed sausage. It was physically and mentally out of your comfort zone, but your best friend insisted you looked like a million bucks in it, so you begrudgingly purchased it a week before. “But you look fantastic,” your best friend reassured you when you stood before your mirror earlier that night, awkwardly, tugging at the fabric by your hipsMaybe she was right, but currently she was busy with the security guard to give you the chance to meet your idol and celebrity crush, Leon S. Kennedy. You had heard he’d attend the premiere, and posts on social media confirmed the rumours.Not that you’d ever admit to subscribing to notifications from him, though.

The place was filled with Hollywood executives, actors, and actresses from all over the planet, yet you hadn’t spotted your favourite so far. Maybe he was outside smoking? Busy spending time with fans and writing autographs? Who knew… So you made your way past some gossiping actress towards the bar. A simple Sex on the Beach would calm your nerves. You began to zone out as you sipped on the cocktail- that is, until you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“And I thought I had met everyone tonight.”

That voice. That fucking voice. You’d recognize it out of a million, and there he was.

On the barstool next to you sat Leon S. Kennedy, and he was touching you at this very moment.

Before you would answer, you chuckled and took a sip from the cocktail, buying your nerves some more time before you’d answer. “Guess not.”, you said and placed the glass on the bar in front of you. “I’m (Y/N), nice to meet you.”

“I’m Leon, but I’m sure you already knew that, nice to meet you too. (Y/N), what a beautiful name for a beautiful woman. Say, how is it possible that I haven’t spotted you before?”

Uh oh. Quick, think of something.

“Sorry, bad traffic,” you replied, directly quoting a line from his costar in Resident Evil 4. “But I’m here now, and just in time to celebrate you and your new show!”, you smiled and raised your glass, Leon clicking it together with his own beer glass. “Cheers.” You two took big sips from your beverages, Leon’s hand now gravitating towards your knee.

“Say, would you like to join me on the terrace? It’s getting so hot in here.”, Leon said and pointed towards an open door on the other side of the room. The mere thought of being able to spend more time with him made you agree with his idea, and a minute later you two were sitting on the terrace in a porch swing. Leon had bought you another drink. He was such a gentleman, just like you’d always imagined him.. From time to time, people came to congratulate Leon on the success of his new show, wanting to invite him for a drink or more rounds. Yet every time he declined it, saying he already had enough for the evening.

“You weren’t invited, were you?”, Leon asked after some conversation between you two. You had told him a bit about your life, your work, your pets. In return, Leon shared stories of the making of Infinite Darkness, funny bloopers and behind-the-scenes stories you otherwise would never hear. The party had died out by now, it being late and the night becoming colder. Telling him a lie wasn’t an option, so you sighed and nodded. “Thought so. You carry yourself differently.”, Leon said while he lit himself a cigarette, blowing the smoke into the night sky.

“What do you mean?”, confusion was written across your face. Carrying yourself differently?

“Hollywood wankers carry themselves with a confidence that could kill a mortal like us. They think they are invincible, but oh boy they are wrong. You don’t carry that energy about you. You don’t look the type.. How did you get in?”

“My best friend is buddies with the security guard and he owed her a favour.”

“You little minx.”, Leon laughed, taking another drag as his eyes rested on you, taking in your body in this dress you hated, yet in his eyes you were the most beautiful woman in the sea of botox and silicone tits. “If you promise not to spill the whole night on social media, I can show you a whole new world.”, and by the look in his eyes, you both knew the feeling was mutual

The penthouse Leon was renting for his stay in your city was more than just breathtaking. Standing by the front window, you could see the whole city, way beyond the city limits. In the bathroom was, next to a big bathtub, a jacuzzi, and an iced down champagne bucket right next to it. “In Hollywood, money has no meaning. You ever seen Wolf of Wall Street? They weren’t fuckin’ lying when they called money ‘fun coupons’”, he laughed when you first entered the penthouse and your eyes had nearly rolled out. The bedroom alone was bigger than your whole flat, the champagne in that goddamn bucket probably worth more than your rent

“If your eyes get any bigger they’ll fall out of your head!”, Leon laughed as he sat down on the huge sofa, the fireplace warming up the room to a comfortable degree. Yet the dress felt too tight, just ready to be taken off...or was that the alcohol speaking? Leon for the cigar box lying atop the coffee table. He offered you one, but you declined - you didn’t smoke, but the mere view of Leon with a big cigar between his lips, legs spread and dress shirt slightly unbuttoned...it went straight to your core, a view millions of women would kill for, presented in front of you. “Like what you see, little minx?”

“Would it be bad if I didn’t.”, you replied, trying to hide your nerves by being cocky. But Leon wasn’t having any of this. He could see through your mask, trying and failing to hide how badly you wanted to straddle his lap and kiss him senseless, seeing stars and whole new universes. Comes with being an ex cop and agent. No secrets could make it past his eyes.

“Come here”, were Leon’s simple words, yet they had an effect on you and your body, something you'd normally be ashamed to admit. You made your way over to Leon on the sofa and instead of sitting next to him, he patted on his lap. “I want you to be comfortable, and I bet you are the most comfortable on my lap. C’mon, it’s the best seat in the house.”, he smirked and...you couldn’t deny it. His thighs were comfortably big, years of hard training paying off in the form of muscle and rough skin under his suit pants.

You weren’t sure why your head felt like it was spinning - was it the alcohol or the intoxicating smell from Leon? A mixture of his unique scent: whiskey and his cologne, all in a cloud around your nose. You wished you would be able to smell him for the rest of your life. All you knew was that your body screamed for Leon, and his body screamed right back. “Here.”, Leon offered you the glass of scotch he had just poured for himself. “There are three types of liquor. Terrible, not so terrible, or do you want to impress people with your money?”, and with those words, he pressed his lips against yours.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“And yet, here we are.”

Leon had picked you up after another glass or three of scotch, the way to his bedroom clear. You weren’t sure if it was the warmth from the scotch swelling in your chest or the way his muscular arms wrapped around you, but something in you was one wrong- or right- move away from melting away completely. Your legs were wrapped around his hips as well as possible. The slit on your dress helped you, but suddenly Leon stopped in his tracks. “Are you okay?”, you asked, placing a hand on his cheek, but he looked over the bedroom you two just entered… Suddenly he placed you back down on the floor, kicking the door shut and pushing you against it.

“I don’t think I’m gonna make it to the bed.”, he smirked , his soft hands moving down your sides, leaving goosebumps wherever they touched you. Your dress felt too tight, the room too hot - you needed to get out of it quickly! Leon watched your blush grow, this asshole smirk still on his lips. “I love how real you are.”, he muttered as he leaned in, brushing his lips over your pulse point, just enough to draw a soft gasp from your lips.

“What do you mean?”, you asked, puzzled. Leon just chuckled, “Haven’t you noticed? It’s all Photoshopped. All the women at the premiere had the same fucking ass. Same crooked lips from the same quack doctor. The same busted Botox faces, everywhere you go. Yet they think they’re hot shit.”, he whispered, hot air against your even hotter skin. “But you...look at you.”

And you did. You looked down on yourself and saw nothing but imperfections. You looked back to Leon with a frown but he just laughed, “Hollywood is suffocating as fuck, but you’re like a breath of fresh air.. Look at you! You even have stretch marks! I haven’t seen real stretch marks since I put my first step into a studio!”, Leon took a deep breath, his voice shaking as he said his next sentence, “And I want you so fucking badly.”

Only minutes later, Leon had marked you up, hickeys and little bites of pleasure and need covering your upper body, whatever part he could reach. The dress was long gone and you laid on the bed, watching Leon unbuttoning his dress shirt. Underneath the white fabric was a body riddled with scars and old, badly healed wounds. Each and every single one could tell a story you were ready to hear, but right now, all you wanted was Leon and only Leon. And he needed you too.

“Aren’t you fucking gorgeous?”, Leon asked as his hands reached behind you, undoing your bra with a simple movement. This man had disarmed bombs before, of course a bra wouldn’t cause him much trouble. “Look at you…”, he repeated once more once your bra was thrown across the room, landing on some random piece of furniture. You blushed under his hungry eyes, him taking in what would be his in mere minutes. “Spread your legs. I wanna taste you.”

You had an iron grip on Leon’s hair, bucking your hips to meet his touch. More, more, more! You needed more! While Leon’s tongue teased your entrance, he used his hand to hold you down, keeping you in place like the good girl that you had been. Well, had been until his tongue first licked up your folds, taking in the sweetness of your juices. Leon had consumed many different liquors in his life, but only your sweet juices could rival ambrosia, sending his drunken mind into another plane of existence.

“Leon!”, you moaned out the moment his calloused finger brushed over your clit. It had been begging for attention, but Leon - that dick - kept on lapping up your juices, sucking and nibbling carefully on your folds. The movements of his fingers were in a steady rhythm with the ones of his tongue, making your head spin once more. He knew how to play you like a fiddle, making you putty in his hands.

But before you could cum, Leon pulled away, his face covered in your sweet fluids and he licked over his lips with an obscene sound and a dirty smirk on his lips. “I can’t wait to fuck you ‘til you scream my name.”

The condom was put on quickly. Magnum, of course. What else would a guy like him need? The first stroke inside of you made you see stars for the third time in less than an hour, what an impact this man had on you. Leon was still inside of you, not moving until you were adjusted to his size, especially his girth. “You okay?”, he asked, to which you gave him a soft nod. “Yeah, I’ll be alright. It’s just… fuck, you’re big..”

Leon’s ego beamed at your words, and once you gave him the okay to continue, it was very hard for him to hold back in any way. You were too tight, too sweet, making him nearly burst on the spot. Instead, his mind wandered...but you were always part of those thoughts.

The wet noises of sex, lust, and unadulterated passion filled the room, along with soft panting and groans coming from you two, a noise as old as humankind. Your arms were tightly wrapped around Leon’s body, leaving behind tiny marks when you needed to hold onto him, your nails digging into his skin. Leon hissed at the stings but fuck, knowing you were marking him up too made him even harder, harder than he had ever been.

“Fuck, you feel so good.”, Leon moaned against your neck and buried his head there for a moment. All you could do was nod in agreement, not trusting your voice anymore. Leon reached down at this, pressing his palm between you two, against your clit. You needed this feeling, you were begging for your release.

“Come on, cum for me.”, Leon growled when he felt the first contractions around his cock. The needy undertone of his voice was the last thing you needed to push yourself over the edge. “Leon!”, you moaned and came around him, stilling in your movements. Leon rocked his hips a few more times before his own release overcame him, spilling into the condom as you milked him inside of you. It felt too good to be true, but Leon was real.

Once your high started to fade and the contractions lessened, Leon leaned in for a quick kiss, stealing it from your open lips as you tried to catch your breath again. You smiled up to him, loosening your grip around him. “That was great.”, you smiled and Leon dropped next to you after pulling out.

In the early morning hours, you woke up to an empty bed. Leon’s side was cold and you sat up, looking around in confusion. Where was he? He wouldn’t leave you alone, would he? Finally, you spotted him on the balcony and you quickly threw on one of the jackets laying around along with your panties.

“Good morning.”, you smiled at Leon, who was taking a drag from his cigarette. He greeted you while blowing the hot smoke out, then held up his arm, offering you a place next to him. You happily agreed, leaning against his warm body in the fresh morning hours.

“I’d love to see you again.”, Leon said after he exhaled another drag, looking down at you. This took you by surprise - why would he? You weren’t special at all, just a mere fan who managed to get into his penthouse suite with a lot of luck and cleavage. He grabbed his phone from the table next to him, offering you the open contact list, “I’d love to take you out on a few dates and such. Spend time with you. What do you think? Wanna give me your number?”

#Leon Kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #resident evil #leon s kennedy #Leon Scott Kennedy

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citowon · 3 years

Text

spring troupe and gender neutral s/o watch horror movies

about time i finally write for this blog... i was hit with the image of masumi watching a horror movie with his s/o, thought how lovely it would be if there was content of that, then realized i have that power now

word count: 1,935

tags: established relationship, non-detailed mentions of horror themes (gore, monsters, etc)

sakuya sakuma

🌸 when the topic of a horror movie date first comes up, he’s a bit scared. he’s only seen a couple, one of which was for mankai play research.

🌸 when it’s actually showing, though, he’s pretty calm! the anticipation was the worst part, and he somehow doesn’t get scared even during the most terrifying movie of the year. he’s great at reminding himself it’s just fictional in the end

🌸 vampires? not scary. aliens? he thinks they’re cute! gore? well, yeah, it’s unnerving at first but it’s all fake, and once he reminds himself of that he’s fine

🌸 he gets scared at the littlest things though. there might be a continuity error where a knife is in its holder on the counter in one shot and then removed the next, and no one in the movie acknowledges it nor is it supposed to mean anything but he can and will psych himself out thinking about just what moved it

🌸 king of predicting plot twists! he might be very good at spotting continuity errors, but he’s even better at picking out little bits of foreshadowing and putting together the mystery

🌸 gets spooked the most by jumpscares. every time he squeaks a bit (on really bad ones he might scream) and every time he always does the same embarrassed sigh afterwards and goes to squeeze your hand to calm himself

🌸 psychological horror is definitely the best pick for sakuya. he thinks a lot about what’ll happen next in the movie and loves to discuss about movies with you regardless of the genre, so with thought-provoking psychological films it fits him like a glove

🌸 and hey, if things ever get too intense he loves b-list horror movies! he thinks the bad acting is endearing and always finds something to compliment even with the trashiest, corniest flick

🌸 if you ever get uncomfortable, he might commentate in the movie and try to poke fun at it- i mean, the killer clown is kind of funny! look how bright and colorful it is compared to the rest of the set! he keeps his voice light and sunny so you have something comforting to concentrate on

masumi usui

🎧 he loves the idea of horror night. cuddling with you, holding you protectively as the suspense rises, stealing kisses to distract you from the monster and erase your fear...

🎧 he’s only seen a few horror movies in his life, less than the fingers he has on one hand, but whatever. it’s a movie. it’s not real. if he got too immersed he could just tell himself it’s fake and be done with it.

🎧 spoiler alert: he didn’t.

🎧 masumi did not, and i repeat, did NOT expect to get so invested??? even if you’re scared, he’s definitely the most terrified

🎧 that’s not to say he’ll show it. he’s doing everything to keep a neutral face, and you’ll probably assume he’s holding to you tighter during the scary parts like he’s protecting you.

🎧 (it’s actually because you’re the one [1] thing grounding him. you’re protecting him, not the other way around! in hindsight, he likes being cared for even when he thought he’d be the one spoiling you, not the other way around. he just wishes it didn’t have to be during such a scary movie, that’s all)

🎧 will take his fear to the grave... unless you ask him directly about it. please hold him and tell him the monsters aren’t real, even though he’s a heavy sleeper he will stay up until 3 am, his mind reminding him how creepy the movie was every time he’s about to drift off

🎧 so does not fuck with ghosts, if he didn’t believe in them before he certainly does now. the poor guy looks up how to ward away spirits and ends up carrying around a salt packet on him for the next two weeks

tsuzuru minagi

📖 tsuzuru’s not exactly a horror fan. he claims it’s brainless and pointless

📖 (admittedly he’s a little scared of them, but he still thinks they’re dependent on shock alone, and have zero rewatch value since the writing is more focused on in-the-moment spooks than actual plot.)

📖 he’ll roll his eyes and tease you a little but eventually he’ll go along with watching a horror movie

📖 to psych himself out of his fear tsuzuru decides to watch them critically and note what plot points to do (or more likely not to do) for future plays

📖 this works out for the beginning but by the middle of the movie he’s enraptured. he can’t tell if it’s actually good or if it’s a car wreck he can’t help but watch

📖 does the corny move where he yawns and wraps an arm around you, and you’d almost buy it from his earlier cynicism but then the killer shows their face and he tenses up like hell and you just know

📖 gets embarrassed every time he’s scared- he even turns pink, and gets even redder if you try to hold his hand or cuddle him closer (even though there’s nothing he’d want more after something that creepy)

📖 by the end he’s got a few new ideas that might go to autumn or winter troupe’s latest plays, and admits okay, fine, maybe horror isn’t so pointless after all

itaru chigasaki

🎮 screw movies, you’re playing horror games instead!

🎮 most of itaru’s horror games are single-player, so one of you takes the controller while the other sits next to the player, but itaru’ll drape his arms around you from behind in a back hug the entire time you play

🎮 he doesn’t really shut up. the entire time, he’s either cracking a joke or trying to freak you out more, if only so he doesn’t get in his head and overthink the creepy atmosphere

🎮 asshole only quiets down when the game gets tense, and then suddenly puts his hands around your shoulders or neck to scare you. regardless if you fall for it or not, he always laughs at himself and just-so-happens to break the tension as a scary cutscene plays

🎮 still commentates when he’s the player, but gasps or jumps even at small atmospheric scares

🎮 itaru definitely overthinks the game. he gets super cautious over tiny details and makes the missions way harder than they should be since he keeps overestimating the enemy line of sight and how noisy the avatar is

🎮 if you happen to be playing a co-op horror it’s a constant “no u” battle over who should do the scariest tasks

🎮 “reader, we need to cleanse the room next. you should do it” “no, you should do it. you have the quartz item remember” “i can give it to you since you have the ghost ward” “the ghost ward doesn’t apply to this quest, besides, you’re better at this ghost attack quick time event than me” “no it does, and you’re more optimized” “i can just give the items to you-“ “no you should do it” “no you” “no you” “no you” “no y-”

🎮 you both lose

citron

🍋 citron loves horror movies! he thinks they’re... comforting?

🍋 turns out he’s only seen movies about cursed dolls and b-horror, which explains a lot- he loves dolls too much to be scared by them and he thinks b-list horror is hilarious- but he’ll still proudly proclaim he’s unflappable and swear to protect you from the bad guys

🍋 when you’re actually watching the movie you can’t tell if he’s faking his reactions or not. he’s very noisy

🍋 he gets scared enough during the gruesome and horrific scenes to hold you close and tight like a teddy bear, and during the worst of it he might muffle a scream by diving into the crook of your neck, obscuring his vision until the scene changes

🍋 and yet, he laughs at the next scene’s unrealism, and manages to poke enough fun at the movie that you giggle and his terror disappears, he loves your laugh way more than he can be afraid of monsters

🍋 can’t do gore for the life of him, but when it comes to the actual plot, he’s rather critical of characters acting dumb. he catches on to nonsensical writing quick, but usually asks you to clarify the plot holes before realizing that he found a loophole in the writing

🍋 whenever you’re scared and not even his goofy reactions and commentary can help, he plants a sweet kiss on your cheek, strokes your hair, and holds you close to his chest until the fear goes away. he’s surprisingly good at protecting you from the movie

🍋 after the movie he’ll say his country has a similar legend to the movie monsters, but he claims the legends are true in zafra, and zafrans have a very specific tradition to prevent the monsters from attacking them

🍋 the movie also gave citron the idea of creepily standing behind you silently until you turn around and get startled, or occasionally chanting in a strange, cultish language and pretending he didn’t say a thing, or making a doll with the same markings as the clown puppet from the movie...

🍋 citron continues to be even scarier than the actual horror movie, but can’t wait until the next horror night! maybe watching it was a bad idea after all...

chikage utsuki

🌙 chikage just doesn’t get the appeal of horror. it’s just a fake movie, why do people get so creeped out by terrible sfx and unrealistic monsters?

🌙 he’s seen scarier things than any werewolf pack, zombie outbreak, or witch coven can throw at him. if you insist on watching a scary movie, fine, he’ll be happy to let you sit on his lap, just don’t expect to creep him out as well, or else you’ll be sorely disappointed.

🌙 he analyzes the movie more than he watches it, but doesn’t speak up even though the fight scenes look pitiful. if this were real life, he’d sweep the whole brood of shambling monstrosities in record time and be back home in time for izumi’s curry

🌙 chikage runs his hands under your shirt whenever the monster’s on screen to scare you. it’s actually really creepy- his fingers are light and quick and always makes you flinch, even if you know it’s just your boyfriend

🌙 he’ll listen to your thoughts about the movie, but doesn’t have strong opinions himself. he thinks the scares are mediocre at best, even without considering his background, but won’t mention how unrealistic it was unless you mention it first.

🌙 psychological horror, however, is a whole different story

🌙 maybe chikage can’t get scared by generic spirit halloween monsters but once you introduce thought-provoking plot, questions and dilemmas, now he’s hooked

🌙 he really likes wondering if the protagonist is actually the good guy and making theories about the origins of the monsters and why they’re so destructive, even if he forgets about them once the movie’s over.

🌙 love love looooves the “the monsters were harmless creatures before humans dished out the first blow” trope. he knows how common it is, but there’s a lot of ways to go about it, especially on a subtextual level, and he just can’t get enough

🌙 the deeper the plot is, expect a longer conversation about the ins and outs of it. they get surprisingly thoughtful and introspective, even if chikage throws in a few bullshit stories related to the movie just to watch you squirm

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selfindulgentpoorlywritten · 3 years

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Surprise

Okay I’m soooo late, I’m sorry! This is my submission for @antoineroussel ‘s Summer Fic Exchange! I managed to dislocate my shoulder (again) and then get myself and half my house sick in the last week, so I’m so grateful for Demi and Emma’s patience <3 @leafs-forever , I hope you enjoy!

Rating: T (language)

Pairing: Kirby Dach/Reader

Words: 1599

Warnings: None

Summary: You and Kirby get ready for the NHL Awards.

Luckily, you had started getting ready before Kirby got home. You’re used to getting ready beside him, but it takes you longer to prepare for a fancy event. Getting dolled up isn’t as easy as people make it out to be.

By the time he gets home, you’ve already showered and are in the process of doing your hair. You keep it simple, just cleaning it up a bit and putting in some product to make it shine for the cameras. You can hear Kirby moving around, hanging up his bag and probably grabbing a glass of water. With the amount of water that boy drinks, you’d think he’d live in the bathroom.

“Hey, baby,” he greets when the two of you meet in the bedroom. He plants a lingering kiss on your lips, smile soft and relieved as he looks into your eyes. That look never fails to make your heart melt, touched by the way that he feels relaxed and safe around you.

You’ve been together for quite a few years, which is probably how you move around each other so easily. He strips and throws his clothes into the hamper on his way to the shower, and you take the opportunity to smack his ass as he passes by. He jumps and tries to give you a scolding look, but the smile glued to his face gives him away.

Needing to shower multiple times in a day has made him quick with it, so he’s out in time to zip your dress. You’ve already put your jewelry on, just a classy silver necklace-bracelet combo and a few different sized fashion rings. You like the way that they sit at different parts of your fingers, highlighting your hands and making your fingers look long and elegant.

You had tried to convince Kirby to wear something interesting, rather than just a plain black suit. It had kind of worked. The suit was still black, but it had a black satin trim with a subtle pattern that gave the whole look a little something special. The NHL Awards is supposed to be a fancy event, so he didn’t want to do anything too crazy.

You’d been to the award ceremony a couple times before, when teammates and friends had won honors. This was the first time Kirby himself was getting one, and you’re beyond proud. The Art Ross was a huge deal, and it was amazing to have Kirby officially alongside the likes of Gordie Howe and Mario Lemieux.

Once your dress is zipped, you head back into the bathroom to do your makeup. You know it’ll have to be a bit more dramatic and involved to show well on the cameras, so you take your time to get it right. You chat with Kirby through the door as he finishes air drying on the bed, sharing about your days as you usually do when you’re both home.

He’s half dressed by time you finish your makeup, fanning your face to make your setting spray dry faster. You head out into the kitchen to get yourself some water and kill a few minutes until Kirby finishes dressing and doing his hair.

“Can you grab my cufflinks, please?” He calls from the bathroom, “They’re in my bag.” You shout back an affirmative, making your way to the entryway.

His bag hangs next to yours, so you take it down, sitting on the floor to root through it. While your bag is organized neatly so that you can find things easily, Kirby’s backpack is a disaster. You take out clothes, push past empty Tupperware containers, finally finding a velvet box all the way at the bottom. It isn’t until you’ve pulled it out that you realize it’s far too small to be a cufflink case. Plus, you see an appropriately sized box leaning against a notebook at the bottom.

First things first, you grab the larger box to check inside. The cuff links are there, so you set it aside to bring to him. You take a few deep breaths to calm your suddenly racing heart. It doesn’t work. The weight of the small box in your hand feels immense, and lifting the lid is a Herculean effort.

The ring is silver, or maybe platinum or palladium. There are two gemstones as the centerpiece, a garnet and sapphire, entwined with a twisting infinity symbol that morphs into the band. His and your favorite stones, tied together perfectly. It’s beautiful.

That motherfucker.

Yes, you’re happy that he’s planning to propose, ecstatic even. Kirby is the love of your life, and you’ve intended to be with him as long as he’ll allow, ring or not. But yeah, the ring is a nice assurance.

Back to why he’s an asshole. He’s had this ring in his bag for who knows how long. Are you mad that he hasn’t already proposed? No. That he’s given no hint that this was coming? Nah. You’re mad because the ring you got for him has been sitting in your underwear drawer for weeks, and this jerk was going to beat you to the punch. Steal your thunder. Well, he’s got another thing coming.

You’ve been waiting for just the right moment to pop the question, and if you’re being honest with yourself, you’ve been procrastinating out of anxiety. Yeah, he’s your soulmate, but there’s still that annoying bit of fear that he could possibly say no. You’d thought about proposing tonight after the ceremony, or maybe behind the scenes after he received his award. You can’t seem to remember why you decided against it.

You pocket the ring box and shove everything back into his bag. Maybe you shouldn’t have sat on the floor in your dress, but you can always have Kirby dust you off if needed. Before you go to him, you open your top drawer as quietly as you can manage. You know exactly where the box is, so it only takes a second to grab.

Your heart is nearly beating out of your chest as you take another steadying breath on your way to the bathroom. He turns to you when you enter, hair fluffy and suit slightly rumpled. Even after all your time together, he still takes your breath away.

“Thank you, love,” he says when you hand him the cufflink case. He turns back to the mirror to check his hair one last time, before looking down to focus on getting his cuffs properly buttoned. You take a step to the right to ensure that you’re out of his line of sight, carefully adjusting your skirt as you go to one knee.

“You ready?” he asks, turning to where you were just standing. His left hand freezes where it’s tugging his shirt cuff into place, mouth falling open slightly when he sees you on the floor. You raise the box in your shaking hands, forgetting everything you’d been planning to say for the past month.

“Yeah,” you say instead, “I’m ready.” You open the box to present the ring, hoping you don’t sweat your makeup off in anticipation.

“Me too,” he replies, smiling as wide as you’ve ever seen. You’re glad that you don’t have your heels on yet, because you spring up from the ground to wrap him in your arms. Your smiles make kissing difficult, but you can’t seem to stop, anyway. You bury your face in his neck after, glad you’d used a lot of setting spray. A makeup faceprint on his suit would be kind of funny, but probably wouldn’t look the best.

“So, do I get that ring at some point, or?” Kirby teases. You punch his shoulder lightly.

“I don’t know, do I get an official yes?” you quip back, already taking the ring out of the holder.

“Yes, you do,” he says confidently, “And yes, I do.” You have to kiss him again for that one. The ring fits perfectly when you slide it onto his finger, hoping he can feel the garnet embedded into the inside of the black band. He kisses you once more afterward, and you can tell he’s squealing with joy on the inside just as much as you are.

“I have to go grab something,” he says, pulling away, “You’re not gonna believe this.” He doesn’t get two steps away before you grab his hand, turning him back toward you. You pull the second ring box out of your pocket, going for a smug smile but probably just looking like a dork.

“You mean this?” you ask, reveling in his shocked expression. Now it’s his turn to punch your shoulder, laughing brightly.

“You’re the worst!” he says, grinning nevertheless. He snatches the box out of your hand while you laugh.

“Turn around,” he orders, “I gotta surprise you too!” You only laugh harder at that, barely able to force yourself to settle as he turns you by the shoulders to face the opposite direction. Once he says “okay”, you turn back to him, giving the most over dramatic performance of your life as you act surprised. You’re both laughing too much for him to get much out, though you’re sure he had a planned speech too.

The ring sliding over your skin is an amazing feeling, but nothing compares to the way he wraps his arms around you once again, resting your foreheads together. You lose track of time looking into his eyes, amazed that you’ve somehow managed to find someone so perfect for you.

Now you have to call your mom so she doesn’t find out through an article. Oops.

#kirby dach imagine #nhl imagines #RI #andis coping mechanism #this is the only time I will ever write for the hawks #please do not ask me to write for them #this is a special circumstance 😂

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pascalpanic · 3 years

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Backseat (Frankie Morales x f!Reader)

Inspo: 80’s Films by Jon Bellion

Summary: Your boyfriend, Frankie, is convinced he peaked in high school. You, however, are here to remind him that his life can’t get any better than it is right now.

W/C: 3k

Warnings: lil bit of sadness, language, brief mention of Frankie’s addiction, Frankie’s a father, graphic smut (18+!!), PROTECTED p in v sex, oral (m and f receiving), dirty talk

A/N: I HC that Frankie is Southern and I’ll die on this hill. Hence, the light accent he has in this fic. Thanks to @miknickles and @ilikechocolatemilkh for putting up with my endless rambling, especially with making them listen to this song and agreeing that yes, josie, this is so Frankie!

The scene before you is absolutely stunning: fireflies dance across a field of tall grass, the sky filled with pink and orange and purple and blue. You had come out here with your boyfriend, Frankie Morales, and had a lovely picnic dinner in the back of his pickup truck. The two of you had finished eating a while ago, and now rest on the edge of the dropped tailgate, wrapped in a blanket and snuggling.

Your head rests on Frankie’s shoulder and you look up at the sunset, smiling contently. He presses a kiss to the top of your head and you let your eyes fall shut. You pull the blanket tighter around the two of you, nuzzling into his side. The night air is starting to cool and Frankie radiates warmth. “What are you thinking about? How does it feel to be you?” You murmur and look up at him, eyes tracing every little line and curve in his beautifully weathered face.

“It’s gonna sound darker than you’re expecting, but… my life,” he admits with a chuckle. “Just… everything I’ve done. I really think I peaked in high school,” Frankie says, staring off at the slowly falling sun. “I was the captain of the hockey team, I had my life ahead of me. It kind of all went to shit after that. I’ve done such bad things,” he tells you, voice growing small.

You’re aware of Frankie’s past. He’s told you all about his days in the Delta Squadron, about the special ops missions he and his friends ran. He’s killed people, you know that, and had to move on in an instant. While this fact would scare many others away, you snuggle up against him, readjusting your head on his shoulder to make sure he feels your presence. “There’s no way,” you shake your head.

“Yeah, there is, babe,” he sighs, his whole body moving with the deep breath he takes. “You know that, you know what I’ve done, the things I had to do…”

You pick your head up from his shoulder, looking into his eyes. “No, I meant you definitely didn’t peak in high school,” you shake your head, a hand cupping the side of his face. “You didn’t even know me then,” you say with a soft chuckle, enjoying the way his expression softens beneath your gaze. “There’s no way, Frankie. You have this life, me and your little girl. You have a job and you have more knowledge than I could even imagine filling my head.”

Frankie shakes his head this time. “You’re the smart one, we both know that. You went to college, you’re so smart-”

“Not the same thing,” you say gently, your fingers tracing his cheeks. “You know everything there is to know about helicopters. You’ve overcome addiction. You have a daughter, you’ve got experiences across the world. You have so much knowledge just from being you, from living the life you have.”

He nods softly at that, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. Frankie presses another sweet kiss to your forehead. “When you put it that way, I guess it makes sense,” he says in agreement. Both of your voices are hushed, as if the nightfall fills you both with reverence for the stillness of the atmosphere surrounding the two of you.

“I’m always right,” you tease softly, turning your face to meet his and kissing him, your hand still cupping his cheek. You break away but keep your face close to his. “I love you so much, Francisco Morales. You are my everything, you know that? If you peaked in high school, what the hell is this?” You tease gently, knowing your sarcasm can always turn Frankie’s mood around.

His face now holds a genuine smile, warm and caring as his eyes scan your face. “This is probably the best thing in my life, yeah,” he shrugs in agreement, just as teasing, before kissing you again. It’s a little deeper, but still so gentle and so full of love that it makes your whole body warm from the inside out due to his affection. Frankie breaks away from you again, a little bit of mischief returning to that beautifully baritone voice. “Can I show you how much I mean it?” he asks, the sparkle in his eye evident.

You quirk an eyebrow as you look at him, pretending as if you have no clue what he means. “And how would you go about doing that, Frankie?” you ask, making big doe eyes up at him and feigning innocence.

“Come here you little shit,” he laughs and kisses you again, holding your face in his hands. His lips express all of the love he has for you, and push deeper and deeper as the kiss progresses. Your hands rest on his wrists, kissing back just as happily. Between kisses, you press your forehead to his for a moment and a smile graces his lips. “Backseat?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” you laugh, shedding the blanket from your shoulders and hopping off the tailgate, where the two of you had been resting. Frankie stands as well, his hands gravitating to your hips and holding you close to his own body as he kisses you again. You murmur his name into his lips as he kisses you a little harder, his hands sliding to the front of your flannel and undoing the bottom button.

His deft fingers work his way up the seam, unbuttoning them all until he slides your shirt off of your shoulders, his lips never leaving yours. You giggle as he tosses the shirt into the trunk, then breaks away to take off his own t-shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside to be with yours.

As he does so, you trace your hands over his stomach and chest. His body is toned and beautiful, a soft layer of pudge coating the muscle but still letting his strength shine through. You press a kiss to his chest, between his pecs, admiring the skin. “You’re so beautiful, Frankie,” you murmur into his skin, kissing your way down until you’re just below his navel, mouthing at the soft pouch of his stomach. He gives a soft and beautiful moan, which you unintentionally mirror as you undo his belt, tossing it into the trunk. He backs up to lean against his truck as you unzip his jeans and pull both his pants and boxers down just enough to pull out his half-hard dick.

Giving it a gentle tug, you look up to see the man already flushed and panting. “You know, I lost my virginity in my truck,” he chuckles, his fingers lacing through your hair. “Just… funny,” he gasps as you take the tip into your mouth, slowly tracing it with your tongue. “We talk about peaking in high school, I get to fuck you the same way I did in high school,” he breathes out, already overwhelmed at the feeling of your mouth around him.

You pull your mouth away, continuing to stroke him as you look up at him. “Less talking, Catfish,” you tease him with his nickname softly, and he gives a brief nod that’s followed by an obscene moan as your mouth descends down on him again. His fingers remain tangled in your hair, his body shuddering beneath you.

“Can’t help it, sweet girl,” he murmurs, his natural Southern accent coming out a little more than normal in the bliss he feels from the attention you lavish him with. “Just can’t close my mouth when yours is around me.”

You hum gently around him, his words going straight to the pooling heat between your legs. Still, you focus your attention on him first, bobbing up and down on his length, moaning when he’s fully sheathed in your mouth and starting to enter your throat. “Oh baby,” he whimpers, biting down on his lip. “Gonna make me cum like a high schooler too,” he chuckles, absolutely breathless. When you pull off of him, he holds you back before you can bob down on him again. “That’s enough of that. Slide those jeans down and hop up on the tailgate, sweetheart,” he tells you as he helps you to your feet.

You giggle a little and nod, kissing him again deeply as you undo the zipper of your jeans, pushing them down in a similar fashion to Frankie: resting around your thighs are both your jeans and your panties. You nip at his lip briefly, teasingly, before you break away, sitting on the edge of the tailgate and pushing them the rest of the way off, tossing them into the trunk behind you.

The sight of you is nearly enough to push Frankie to his tipping point. You sit on the edge of the tailgate, wearing just your bra. Your legs are spread to showcase your dripping pussy and Frankie wishes he could take a picture of this moment, the way you’re just visible in the light of the dying sun. “You’re gonna be the death of me, hermosa,” Frankie breathes as he gets on his knees, his face at just the perfect height.

You shudder and whine his name as he licks a stripe up your folds with his hot tongue. He latches his mouth around your clit, slowly beginning to suck on it with the familiarity of a man who knows everything about you. Your head falls back and you prop yourself with your arms behind you as he slips two thick fingers into you, scissoring you open lightly as he continues to lavish your clit with attention.

The stubble of his face rubs against your thighs deliciously, your legs unintentionally clamping around his face. He moans into you, switching into circling your clit with his tongue, and you cry out helplessly. “Frankie, baby,” you whimper, digging your fingers into his curls. He moans again as he feels your fingers tugging at his hair.

“Oh fuck, just like that,” you plead as he curls his fingers against the spot inside you that makes everything blurry. “Baby, harder,” you plead and he easily complies. His fingers curve harshly against your walls and you cry out, feeling the sensation building.

“I’m gonna cum, keep going just like that,” you whine to him, and Frankie continues just the same as before. A few strokes of his fingers and pulses of his tongue later, you find yourself coming apart. “Frankie,” you whine as your orgasm rocks through your body, your hot release coating Frankie’s face beneath you. He licks it all up as he works you through it, not letting up in the slightest. He finds his dick painfully hard at the way you flutter around him, finally slowing down as he can tell that you’re done.

He pulls away and removes his hand once you’re finished, smirking. His stubble and mustache are damp with your release, and he looks completely blissed out. You giggle a little and he stands, pulling you against his body. His hard dick presses against your core as he kisses you deeply, desperately.

“You want me on top of you or under you?” You ask between kisses, still panting and hot from your release just moments earlier.

“Under me. Go lie in the backseat,” he tells you as he pulls away from your lips, making a wet noise from the kiss. You nod and comply, opening the door to the back and lying down across the long bench seat. Frankie opens the door to the front seat, grabbing a condom from the center console. You remove your bra, tossing it playfully at him and laughing. You rest with your arms above your head, accentuating your tits, and when Frankie looks at you, his face tinges red and he smiles. “Such a tease.”

“Says the one who’s still wearing his jeans. You gonna fuck me in those?” You laugh, putting one leg up on the headrest of the chair in front of you, hiking your other leg up on the seat.

Frankie laughs and shakes his head, closing the front door and standing outside of the door you entered the back from. He opens the condom and slides it down on himself, shucking his jeans and boxers the rest of the way, tossing them in the trunk. He climbs in and over you, closing the door behind him. “Just like ninth grade again,” he teases you, earning a genuine laugh. You wrap a leg around him, your heel tracing up and down the back of his thigh.

The man smirks down at you, leaning his face down to yours to kiss you, his lips penetrating your mouth the way he desperately wants his dick to penetrate you. “Baby, please,” you moan into his lips, your arms still resting above your head.

“Anything for you, hermosa,” he breathes out, taking one of his hands up to pin down your wrists. The other notches himself at your entrance before slowly pushing in, biting down at his lip. “Oh fuck, angel, you feel so good,” he shudders.

“And that’s only the tip,” you laugh breathlessly, head falling back into the seat. “Come on, baby,” you egg him on, gripping his hip with your leg and whining as he pushes all the way into you. “Fuck, you’re so thick,” you groan as he bottoms out, feeling incredibly and perfectly full at the sensation of the man you love fully sheathed inside of you. “Just fuckin’ pound me,” you murmur next to his ear, kissing at his lip.

“Babe, I don’t know if this is the best place for me to do that, but I sure can try,” he says with a breathless laugh, pulling nearly all the way out of you before pushing all the way back in. That earns a dirty cry from the back of your throat, making him smile. “Oh, like that. I can do that,” he teases, burying his face in the curve of your neck and nipping at the skin there.

“Frankie, baby, please,” you shudder, grinding your hips in little circles as he’s fully inside of you. He starts to thrust and you whimper. “Just like that, keep going,” you whine, already over-sensitive from the orgasm just a few minutes ago.

“Yeah, just like that. Feel so good around me,” he murmurs into your skin, his free hand moving to your clit to circle it with the pad of his thumb. “You like this, don’t you?”

“Oh, fuck yes I do,” you nod, straining your wrists against his hand. “Let them go,” you murmur and he obliges, allowing one hand to bury itself in his curls and the other to grip his strong shoulder blade.

Frankie thrusts harder and harder, his thumb against your clit working in time to his hips. You dig your nails into his back as he hits your g-spot, earning a desperate cry from him. You moan his name as you drag your nails down his back, definitely enough to leave scratches in the morning. He groans primally at the sensation, loving every second of this.

“Fuck, make me feel so good,” you whine and bite down on your lip, stopping as he brings his lips to yours. “Frankie, honey,” you whimper into the kiss, sloppy and harsh and wet. It’s bruising, the way his hips pound into yours, and you wouldn’t want it any other way. “Gonna cum really quick, feel so good,” you murmur a few moments later.

“Yeah? Tell me how you feel as you cum, let me know everything you’re feeling,” he murmurs as he thrusts even harder.

“Fuck, so fucking good, your hands are so big and strong and your hips are so quick and you’re so big, stretching me out, hitting just the spot,” you whimper until the building feeling finally bursts, leaving you a writhing mess beneath him as you gush around his dick. “Frankie, baby, don’t stop, ah,” you cry as you slowly come down from your orgasm.

The fluttering around his dick is almost too much for him to take, but he keeps going. “I couldn’t stop if I wanted to,” he laughs, using the last bit of oxygen in his lungs. He’s gulping air from the ferocity of his thrusts. His hand moves from your clit to your thigh, gripping it tight enough to bruise. “I’m gonna, baby girl, my angel,” he breathes, the thrusts becoming sporadic.

To help him along, you clench around him, making the sensation even tighter for him. “Come on baby, come on,” you nod and murmur, the delicious overstimulation making everything in your body quiver.

It’s too much, and Frankie finally arrives, his orgasm washing over him. He spurts into the condom, his hips continuing but slowing down until he finally comes to a stop, resting fully inside you and practically collapsing on you. “Honey,” he murmurs in your ear, your sweaty chests sticking together. Your eyes finally open again to find the cab of his truck illuminated only by the moonlight, shining in and accentuating the fog that’s accumulated on the windows.

You push his head up, wanting to see his face. The light makes everything silvery blue, his eyes shining and his skin bathed in the beautiful moonlight. He’s absolutely spent, his cheeks flushed and warm to the touch. “You are the most beautiful thing, Frankie Morales,” you repeat yourself, smiling softly, bringing his face to yours for a gentle kiss.

“I think that title goes to you, babe,” he chuckles breathlessly as he finally breaks away from your kiss. “And yeah, you’re right. I definitely didn’t peak in high school, I think I just needed a night like this to remind me of that.”

“Good,” you say firmly with a nod, before your stoic expression dissolves in a fit of giggles. Frankie’s head nestles in the curve of your neck again and you press a kiss to the side of his head. “I love you so so much, baby,” you murmur, earning a tired grunt from your boyfriend. You laugh softly and wrap your arms around him, kissing the side of his head again.

#pedro pascal #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier

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waywardnerd67 · 3 years

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Star Crossed: Shining Star

Summary: Between filming and conventions, Jensen Ackles hardly has a moment to himself. During a panel one weekend he learns that his favorite band’s lead singer is a fan of his. Encouraged by his best friend, Jensen steps out of his comfort zone and reaches out to her on social media. That one decision throws his entire world into a whirlwind adventure. Pairing: No Pairing Rating: E - Everyone Warnings: Fluff Word Count: 1595 A/N: None

Check out: Star Crossed Masterlist

Jensen Ackles walked into his apartment kicking off his shoes by the door. Thankful to be done filming for the week and looking forward to not having to travel too far for the convention this weekend. He loved meeting fans and performing on Saturday nights. There were some weeks where he wished he could relax in his apartment and not have to worry about traveling.

Deciding a night of Netflix and pizza was in order, Jensen took a quick shower then put on some sweats with a t-shirt. He had settled in with his pizza with The Witcher series pulled up to watch when his phone started buzzing.

“No Jared, I don’t want to come out.”

Laughter came ringing through the speaker, “Jackles, it’s only a few crew and myself chilling at our normal spot. Come out for a little while.”

“What part of no don’t you understand? The N or the O?” Jensen rubbed his forehead hearing everyone behind Jared chanting his name, “Buddy, I’m showered and in for the evening. I’ll make it up to y’all tomorrow night.”

“Fine old man, see you tomorrow.”

He groaned, ending the call and no longer interested in the show on Netflix. Turning off the tv, he walked over to his record player turning on the band he had been listening to on repeat. He discovered Wayward Stars a few years ago when a fan gifted him their cd. They were a hard rock, alternative metal band with lyrics that spoke to the soul. Also, the lead singer was drop dead gorgeous.

There had been late night shoots he would turn on one of their albums listening to (Y/N) (Y/L/N)’s voice letting it seep into the far reaches of his mind. As he sat in his apartment alone, he allowed his mind to wander of singing with her on stage one day. Making a mental note to talk with Creation and Rob Benedict about getting her to come to Vegas for SNS. For now, he let the music flow over him well into the night.

The next day, Jensen slept in until he heard Clif knocking on his door. Twenty minutes later, he was walking down to the lobby where Jared was sitting with his eyes closed.

“Hey Jared!” He yelled.

Jared jumped falling off the chair he was on. Jensen and Clif started laughing as he mumbled curses under his breath getting off the floor.

“Not funny and I will get you back.” Jared’s eyes narrowed on him.

“I’m sure you will, big guy. Now, can we get on with our day?”

They had a few interviews at the studio and some meetings before they had to get ready for the concert that night. Since the convention was in Vancouver and there was no traveling, Jensen had agreed to sing that night. He was excited to perform new songs and to be in front of the fans. As they pulled into the studio parking lot, he sighed knowing it was going to be a long day ahead of him.

It was near six o’clock when Jensen arrived back at his apartment to get ready for the night. Once again, he turned on his favorite Wayward Stars song, A Light in the Dark. It was a slower song with beautiful lyrics and then a killer riff in the end. He was in his room, singing when he heard his door open. Only two people had a key to his place and he only needed one guest to know who was walking in.

“Really? Wayward Stars again?” Jared flopped down on his couch.

“I can’t help it that you have horrible taste in music.” He chuckled.

“I like the band… just not 24/7 like you.”

He rolled his eyes, shutting off his record player, “Don’t judge me. Now come on and let’s go hang out with the fam.”

Saturday Night Special was exactly that, special. Especially when they were in Vancouver. The cast and crew seemed to cut loose a little more backstage. He was catching up with Matt Cohen when they called him to get ready to go on stage. Jared and Misha were standing by the stage to watch as Rob called him up on stage.

There was nothing more exhilarating than being hit with a roar of an audience. An electric current steady ran down his body over the next fifteen minutes as he performed. When he walked off stage, as promised, he celebrated with Jared, Misha and others until the early hours of morning.

Their early morning panel was rough as the coffee worked through knocking out the whiskey from his system. The last question of their morning panel came from a young lady wearing a Wayward Stars shirt.

“Love your shirt.” Jensen smiled.

“We get it Ackles, you’re their biggest fan.” Jared jokes.

The fan laughed, “Actually my question is about them. SPN family loves this band since they are fans of the show. Wondering if you ever had a chance to meet them or if they could be invited to a SNS show?”

“Go on fanboy…”

Jensen rolled his eyes, “I would love to meet them one day and have them come perform during Saturday Night Special. I’m forever thankful to the fan who gave me their cd a couple of years ago. Many, many a night their music has kept me sane during shooting. So yeah, definitely would love to meet them.”

“I would love for Jensen to meet them so I can film it and post it on social media for everyone to see him fanboy all over (Y/N).”

The crowd ohhh as Jensen glared at Jared, “Alright, alright… I think we have to get going now. We will see y’all later.”

Waving as they walked off the stage. As soon as they were on the stairs, Jensen punched his friend in the shoulder.

“Ow!”

“You deserve that.” Jensen could hear Jared laughing all the way to the green room.

The rest of the convention went without a hitch. Monday morning brought a whole new week of filming. Jensen was in his trailer when his phone buzzed seeing a text from Jared.

He pulled up his app, seeing a few friends tagging him in a post from a girl named Addy. Clicking on the YouTube link surprised to see (Y/N) watching him sing from SNS.

“I can’t help it. He’s gorgeous and talented and the perfect man.” She threw her arm over her eyes dramatically pretending to faint.

Text flashed on the screen, “#1 Jensen Ackles Fangirl”

He sat there stunned for a moment watching the video again. He could not wrap his mind around that she was a big fan of his. He knew the band liked the show, but to think he was perfect? His heart thumped against his chest as his shaking hands typed a message back to Jared.

Jensen took a few deep breaths before typing a Tweet then deleting it. He typed another one and deleted it. The third time he hit post and immediately regretted it, sounding like an idiot. Within minutes he received a notification from (Y/N) on Twitter.

Before he could reply, Jared was calling him, “Are you freaking out?”

“N-No… maybe, yes.” He stammered.

Jared’s laughter filled his ear, “Oh my god I wish I could see your face right now. This is your chance to make all your dreams come true.”

“I’m hanging up now, Jerk.”

“See you in an hour, Bitch.” Jared was still laughing as Jensen ended the call.

He watched the video a few more times and sent another Tweet out to (Y/N) after following her page. He went on all his social media making sure he was following her before realization hit that it seemed stalkerish.

“Jay, calm your roll.” He muttered to himself.

Putting his phone down, he tried to go over his lines for the next scene they were shooting. When he could not concentrate then he buckled, putting in his earbuds and turning on Wayward Stars. His hands were still trembling as he tried to control his fan moment.

Over the next several weeks, Jensen and (Y/N) were chatting all over social media. He posted a picture on Instagram tagging her in holding up her vinyl record.

Finally, he gathered the courage to ask for her number in a DM to chat with her more in private. Since their fans were going nuts over their new friendship. Now they would text each other everyday like they had known each other forever. She would tell him about her shows and cities she was in. He would chat about filming without spoiling anything for her. The only thing he wished could happen was their schedules to sync up so they could meet.

That thought ran through his mind everyday especially when he was at conventions like the upcoming weekend in his hometown. Thursday night, he was on a plane heading to Dallas when a notification popped up on his phone from (Y/N) posting on Twitter.

“Not next to me.” He mumbled snapping a picture of himself before replying to her Tweet.

He knew where she was off too after they had talked earlier in the day. They were still a thousand miles apart but closer than they had ever been since their friendship had begun. Settling back into his seat, he enjoyed listening to Wayward Stars newest song released that week.

If you enjoyed this story then check out my Masterlist!

For updates please follow #waywardnerd67fics

Taglist: @waywardbaby @ladywinchester1967 @akshi8278 @dean-winchesters-bacon @carryonmywaywardcaptain @destiel745 @carribear31 @whimsicalrobots @adoptdontshoppets @mrswhozeewhatsis @bella-ca @drakelover78 @imascio08 @mannls @time-travel-bouqet @myinconnelly1 @maddiepants @tumbler-tidbits @sandlee44 @destielhoneybee @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @thefaithfulwriter @stoneyggirl @emoryhemsworth @atc74 @cosicas-cuquis @mimaria420

#waywardnerd67fics #star crossed series #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen ackles #reader insert #rpf #fluff

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strawbabysimp · 3 years

Text

A Massage and More || Dom!Hanamiya x Reader

Genre: Smut

Category: Dom!Hanamiya x GN!Reader

Warning(s): Dacryphilia, Degradation, Face Fucking With Feet, Masturbation, Pet Names, Rough Sex, Sensual Massages, Toe Sucking

A/N: I'm so sorry TT I had to do this~ Additional warning: Hanamiya

It had been a particularly grueling practice for the uncrowned king, not an enthusiast of the practice required to play his beloved blood-letting sport. His mind wasn't invested in it today, twisting of limbs and red-stained courts the only thing pushing him to do better. His body was sore as he sat beside you on the bus ride home, a deep scowl on his face despite finally getting to have you to himself for the night after being busy with being both the captain and coach of his team.

"What do you want to do?"

Your voice was pleasant despite having to put up with Hanamiya's unpredictable cruelty. This time wasn't like the usual, it wasn't as if he was out to hurt you - a common occurrence in your unconventional relationship - but rather he was genuinely having a bad day. He didn't acknowledge you as he walked into the house, your words meeting his back as he made his way to the living room. The boy didn't hesitate to plop himself down on the furniture, taking up the 3-seater couch placed across from the family's television.

Your boyfriend scoffed. His words brought a smirk to his lips, meeting your gaze with tired eyes despite his condescending demeanor. "I'm tired."

Your body stood still between him and the TV screen before you moved to sit beside him, Hanamiya scoffing despite moving back to sit up against the armrest, willingly moving his feet to rest in your lap to accommodate you.

"How was practice," you asked despite already knowing the answer. Hanamiya rolled his eyes at your inquiry.

"Shitty."

He sighed as his feet moved to pry off his shoes and socks, not caring for cleanliness as they dropped down onto the floor with two resounding thuds. You thought he would leave it at that but he continued on, "Hara wouldn't leave me alone, going on with his '-chan' bullshit like I'm his bitch or something."

You could picture the gum-enthusiast following his captain around, the smell of mint in the air as a repetitive popping noise sounded from behind the shorter man. A small smile made its way onto your face as you looked down at his legs laying in your lap, basketball shorts riding up slightly to show off his pale skin, thighs peeking out from the loose fabric. You felt a light pain in your own thigh, your boyfriend's foot coming down to collide with your flesh harshly.

"It's not funny." Your shoulders shook lightly from laughter at his fed-up expression. You apologized insincerely, fingers digging into one of his feet in an attempt to get him to settle down, massaging out any aches he has gained on the court. His shoulders lowered slightly, deciding to graciously let the matter slide if it meant you would continue with your service.

The screen of the television lit up, the brunet's thumb pressing down on the remote in silence as he searched for something that piqued his interest. You continued with your relaxing motions, focusing on the act as you heard the man partially in your lap finally settle on a movie.

You allowed your gaze to trail back up, settling on the show he had picked, a fight scene taking place on screen as the actors yelled out foreign obscenities. Hanamiya and his interest in American action movies was something you found endearing despite knowing he was mainly a fan to get his fix of violence without landing himself in a cell.

You could feel a gaze settle on you, shifting your head to make eye contact with the proud sadist. He looked away once you had noticed his staring. He shifted slightly, readjusting his position as he invested himself in the plot of the movie.

You heard a small breath leave the boy as your fingers worked into his joints silently. You were content with watching the movie in silence but when the noises came faster, increasing in volume until a small groan sounded between the two of you you couldn't help but look up with an exclamation of surprise at the sight before you, putting your massage on hold to stare at Makoto with wide eyes.

"Are you getting turned on by this?"

Hanamiya's shorts had ridden up, palm pressed into the crotch of his pants as the outline of his cock was made clear through the uniform. He thumbed at the tip as his eyes were shut in pleasure, mouth slightly agape to let the tell-tale signs of his actions out easier.

"What do you think," he said with an annoyed tone, unable to rid of the way his voice gave away his current state. He never paused, going as far as to dip his hand beneath the waistband of his shorts to get a firmer grip on his dick. "I never said to stop."

His eyelids fluttered open, eyes slightly unfocused as he urged you on. You took the other untouched foot in your grasp, repeating the same process as you followed the man's reactions. He freed his cock from the confines of the fabric, sliding his shirt up to reveal the expanse of his stomach as you watched it slowly get coated in white.

"Feels good," he spoke softly, "I guess you're not completely useless after all." Your lips twitched humorously at his words, knowing he thought higher of you than he let on but allowing him to keep up the act.

You watched as his hand sped up its pace, hips arching up into the tight space made by thin fingers as precum leaked out of him. Groans echoed off the walls of the room, the spacious house keeping in the moans, preserving the neighbors' peace despite Hanamiya not being able to care any less about their feelings of discomfort.

"Fuck," his voice rose further, moans varying in pitch but long and breaking following the exclamation. When he finally spilled out onto himself you slowed down your motions, hands stroking up and down the tops of his feet as he rode out his orgasm.

Fingers swiped across his stomach, collecting the cum with his digits before bringing his foot closer and off your lap for a moment. He smeared the salty substance onto his foot, the sight making you scrunch your nose in distaste.

"Well, aren't you going to clean me up?"

"Huh?" His request stupefied you, wide eyes unable to keep from staring down at the white slowly dripping down his foot.

"I know you heard me. Do you need more detailed instructions? ... Fine, I should have expected as much from you. Such a small brain in that little head of yours." He smiled at you darkly, a fond gleam in his eyes despite the look.

You slid off of the couch, your knees pressed against the wooden flooring that was found throughout most of the house. Hanamiya looked down at you, having moved to face you directly on the center cushion.

With cheeks flushed and chest burning from embarrassment, he gave you a moment, taking a few seconds to scan you over or give you a moment to stop it. He was wordless in his caring but it occurred nonetheless. The same thumb that had been rubbing against the underside of his dick was now rubbing across your cheek, a layer of cum now present on your skin. Without warning he slid his fingers to the back of your head, shoving you down roughly on the soiled toes.

The back of his foot remained steady with help from the edge of the couch, keeping it elevated to slide into your mouth easier. He watched you calmly as your cheeks stretched around his lower leg. He flexed in your mouth, cum coating your tongue as he pressed against the muscle, pleased by your willingness.

He began to pull out before stopping, you looked up at him through watery eyes before his other leg came to wrap around the back of your neck, bringing you further forward to gag on the other.

"You're crying but I bet you like it. You do know you're your prettiest when you're like this, don't you?"

He never stopped his brutal pace, continuing to spew out pure filth as his calf was secured around your head, forcing you to clean up the mess you had helped make. Once he deemed the job done thoroughly enough he removed himself from you, hunching forward to get a better view at your wrecked look. With a blank face, he pressed his lips to just above your brow bone, closing his eyes as he rested his forehead against yours for a moment in a rare show of weakness reserved only for you.

"You did a good job, dollface."

#Smut #Hanamiya #Hanamiya Smut #Hanamiya x Reader #Dom!Hanamiya #Dom Hanamiya #Kuroko's Basketball #KNB #Anime #Hanamiya Makoto #Gender Neutral Reader

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yarichin-imagines · 3 years

Note

Hi!!! okokok, how bout a s/o who has a kind of quirk (just like bnha!), how do you think they would react? Like, I think they'd probably integrate into something related to sex or develop a kink (? LMAO

y'all i am so into bnha you have no idea!! also, for neutrality purposes, i'll be using the quirks of deku, todoroki, bakugou, uraraka, kirishima, denki, sero, iida, and satou, all from class 1A, mostly just because none of their quirks rely on physical appearances!!

tw: impact, dubcon (drugging, somno), dummification if you squint

Toono – S/O's Quirk: One for All – This Quirk is a union of two different Quirks, one that stockpiles power and one that passes itself on to another. The user can momentarily gain strength and speed far greater than any other Quirk and hero.

thankfully by the time he'd met you, you'd mastered the use of your Quirk

you were never the prance about type to flash around your power anyway

you preferred to use it for more mundane tasks – like opening pickle jars and carrying the groceries into the house in one trip

he found out about it on accident

he was on his way out when he caught you in the parking lot coming in––

with your car in hand, two feet off the ground

you'd dropped your fob somewhere underneath it and couldn't see

toono passed out

when he came to, his first questions revolved around whether or not the car was okay

once he wraps his head around it though..

he's way more into it than he tells you

but it also fuckin terrifies him

so much so that he really doesn't want you to use it on him

definitely has watched you use it so intently that he can nut off to it later

maybe one day he'll pluck up and ask you to activate it for some pictures he can keep

Kashima - S/O's Quirk: Half-Cold, Half-Hot – This Quirk splits the user into two, half of the user's body can emit ice, the other half emits fire.

honesty is a pillar to kashima's relationship

your quirk came to light a month or so into seeing him

and at first, he was mostly excited about the health benefits

he decides then and there that you gotta do him a solid and chill his side of the bed

that way he can keep cool when he sleeps

sometimes

even if he's half asleep

he'll grab your right hand with a lil soft tug

and in your drowsy stupor you chill his pillow so there's no need for a flip

makes him grin like an idiot every time

when he comes home from practice or from the gym he has you freeze and unfreeze the bathwater-- saves you guys a whole lot of ice

he doesn't mind letting you ease his muscles with your left side after all the heats works wonders that would make any rice pack green with envy

as a top, kashima's got complete control in the bedroom

all day, he'll ask you to close your eyes and heat something up, maybe it's a vibrator or a dildo

or when you chill something, they're usually beads or a plug

all for him to torment you with later on that night

Yacchan – S/O's Quirk: Explosion – This Quirk allows the user to sweat a substance similar to Nitroglycerin from the user's palms and ignite it to create explosions.

kyosuke recognizes it's too dangerous to use in the bedroom

but that being said, there's plenty of other stuff around the place to let you show off

your firework shows are always the best on the block

especially when he sets some off right when yuu isn't expecting it

mainly, yacchan appreciates your quirk when it comes to pulling pranks

It's really funny when you're popping ziploc bags full of nothing right outside tamura's dorm when he's trying to power nap before exams

and even funnier when he storms out in just tighty whities to yell at you

only to meet the flash of yacchan's cellphone

toono will fall asleep during study sessions sometimes and yacchan will facetime you so you can let out a boom and wake him up

he will most definitely fall off the bed and yacchan will most definitely record it

the two of you are the best of the worst that way

Shikatani – S/O's Quirk: Zero Gravity – This Quirk allows the user to cause people and items to float on contact. There is a weight limit on how much the user can levitate, and if this Quirk is used to much, it will cause the user to get sick.

it's really helpful when you help him deep clean

after all, if the supplies are gracefully floating behind him, that leaves his hands free to do twice the work, saving him half the time

but you're content to watch the beautiful boy work

if you help him clean like that, he won't ask for much more that day

he is very very conscious of how much you use your quirk

because he cares about you too much to let you get sick

since he knows for a fact that because of his ocd he won't be able to take care of you

and that stings

so on the days where the chores have all been done he gets the honor of experiencing the effects of your quirk in bed

he likes how it feels when your tease him from the air above

your throat feels more open

but it's not like he can do too much about it since the instant he gets too eager you always float just out of reach

sometimes if he's behaved very well, you'll suspend him

the headrush he gets is euphoric

but the best is how good you are when you blow out his back with your strap

after all, without gravity, your stroke game is literally out of this world

Akemi – S/O's Quirk: Hardening – This Quirk allows the user to harden any part of their body. This shell can withstand several tons of metal falling on the user, along with shock waves, explosions, etc.

there's nothing cuter to akemi keiichi than a brat

if you want to misbehave?

by all means

go right ahead

he'll leave it to you to exhaust yourself

that's the first time he saw you use it

he wasn't aiming to cause any major damage, he was only spanking you with his hand

but he'd been at it for almost an hour

then suddenly he'd pushed you off him after he'd slapped what felt like a solid rock

not that it could stop him

his eyes only grew darker

from then on out, it was all a game to see how far he could push before the shell wore down and you gave into him

Itome – S/O's Quirk: Electrification – This Quirk allows the user to discharge electricity out of the user's body. It goes out in all directions around the user, and can be used to even charge objects, such as batteries. There is a limit to how much this Quirk can be used, and if used too much, the user will short circuit their own brain, and won't be able to do anything for an hour.

of course you can charge his phone in a pinch when it dies at the worst possible moment

hotwire his car when he's already running late

restart the fusebox when there's a power outage

after hours, itome's not a hard dom

not in the slightest

but every once in awhile, he can be particularly malicious

like when he has you overcharge your vibrators to give him the liberty of overstimulating you for longer

really it's less about the scene and more about what comes after

due to the limits of your quirk, aftercare is all on him

that's what he likes the most

taking care of you completely

being able to coax you through your braindead state

clean you off and pose you all comfortable

you're all the sweeter when you come to, when you come back to him

Yuri – S/O's Quirk: Tape – This Quirk allows the user to shoot extremely strong tape from openings on the user's elbows.

the tape is good for fixing most messes yuri gets himself into, clumsy fuck

also waxing!

of course he's gonna be into it

he loves the sting it leaves when you pull it off him the most

and he feels it all over again when there's red rectangular patches all across his skin the next morning

though the gluey part is a bit of a pain to wash off

sometimes he'll leave it for him to pick at throughout the day -- that way he'll get the shivers, makes him hot all over again!

he literally cannot get enough

when you do your school work or anything that diverts your attention from him, he'll be tugging at your elbow

this way you can restrain him until you're ready to ahem

put him to use

you can also use your tape to toss him around, floor to bed to floor to wherever

sometimes you even tape up his face, cover his mouth until the drool renders the tape into a thin flimsy strip

you tie his hands tighter and tighter every time, and it never breaks him

he loves it

on the other hand, yuri can be quite the slippery fuck

for emergencies, you've got some of your tape stored away

you've woken up more than once hogtied, your quirk turned against you

like it or not, yuri can easily turn the tables and you're almost never expecting it

you might have an unlimited supply, but he's too quick for your own good

Tamura – S/O's Quirk: Engine – This Quirk gives the user incredible speed by engine-like protrusions in the user's calves. The engines are fueled by orange juice, and carbonated drinks will mess the engines up.

he calls a 40 meter dash every single weekend

he sets his treadmill to train for it the whole week

but he never beats you

and it seriously pisses him off

you're always faster, no matter the game

if anything, it motivates him

he'll take the bruised ego if it helps him get into better shape

the fact that sometimes, you let him win makes his "engines" overheat faster than you can blink

he'll chase you and chase you for hours

fueled on adrenaline and testosterone, there's no way he'll tap out before you

expect a long, hard bite once he catches you

he goes absolutely animalistic

that lilt in his voice when he finally gets to sink his teeth into your shoulder, even if it's through a shirt, that doesn't matter to him

"caught you"

Jimmy – S/O's Quirk: Sugar Rush – This Quirk allows the user to become stronger and faster every 10 grams of sugar they eat for three minutes. The more the user uses this Quirk, the dumber they get.

every time he catches you snacking on a chocolate bar his whole brain turns off

he's practically jumping, the way he bounces around

waiting for you to inevitably choke slam him against the nearest surface

wall, couch, bed, anything

he likes it when you just toss him over your shoulder

even more the way your hits are harder than usual

he antagonizes you on purpose

making sure to stuff a grocery cart full of sweets he knows you like so that he can catch you snacking and make him pay through the nose

he always asks so nicely

but when you won't give in, well that just won't do!

doses your miso with sugar, drops in three extra cubes in your milk tea, encourages extra flan for dessert

for the next three minutes, you're nearly tripping over yourself

everything is lighter

and then when the crash hits---

jimmy can finally take what he wants

and karma is quite the bitch

#admin yari #bnha au #ybc #yarichin b club

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there-must-be-a-lock · 3 years

Text

Leave Your Boots By The Bed (SPN x BtVS)

Sam Winchester x Faith Lehane

Word Count: 7350

Warnings: It’s smutty! Samhandling, the jockey is MJ’s favorite sex position, lots of discussions of trust and consent, unprotected sex, rimming, spanking, hair pulling, and dom/sub themes. Wee bit o’ feelings but in a nice way with a happy ending. Mostly just a whole bunch of marathon, athletic, probably-not-OSHA-compliant banging.

A/N: This is the Sam/Faith side-quest (idk what else to call it) to Big Damn Heroes, but you don’t really need to read that to understand this. You can also read just the scene where these two meet over here.

This is my entry for @idabbleincrazy and her “What Do You Mean This Is Classic Rock?” Challenge! My prompt was “Girl All The Bad Guys Want,” by Bowling For Soup, which 100% gave me Faith vibes. It’s quoted/referenced a couple times in the story.

It’s also my (second) entry for @stusbunker’s Jam Basket fic exchange. This one’s for @thoughtslikeaminefield, who deserves the world on a silver platter. I cannot give her that, so instead I offer Faith smut. Thanks to @mskathywriteswords for prodding and lotion-related reality checks, and to @fangirlxwritesx67 for the read-throughs and for reassuring me that if I ever write Sam smut without a little psychoanalysis thrown in, she will worry about me.

Title from the Jason Isbell song “Cover Me Up,” which I listened to on repeat while writing certain chunks of this.

“What’s so funny?” Faith asks, looking at him sideways as they walk.

“I just told you I come from another universe and your response is ‘cool.’”

“Am I supposed to be impressed? I like it this way. No chance of you gettin’ all clingy.”

Sam laughs. “Fair enough.”

“Monsters, huh? You ever staked a vamp before?”

“Stakes don’t kill ‘em in my world. But… beheaded a few,” Sam says mildly.

“Yeah?” Her eyes sparkle. “So if we take the shortcut through the graveyard, you’re not gonna slow me down or get yourself killed?”

He gives her an unimpressed look. “What do you think?”

“Let’s go, then,” she challenges, pointing to the cemetery gate up ahead. “Bet I can dust more before we get to the other side.”

“You’re on.”

* * * * * * * * * *

“Heads up,” Faith shouts, and tosses him a stake. Sam whirls and punches it through the thing’s ribcage, sending dust swirling just in time to turn and watch Faith launch herself at another vamp.

“Is this where you take all your dates?” Sam wonders out loud, a little bit enthralled by the cocky grin on her face as she sends the vamp stumbling with one of those showy spin-kicks.

“This is not a date,” she snaps, between solid punches. The last hit decks the vamp, and she stakes him before he can hit the ground. She struts toward Sam, brushing dust from her skintight jeans with a Cheshire cat smile. “I like my job. Fuckin’ sue me.”

“Not complaining,” Sam says, sincerely. “Hottest thing I’ve seen in ages.”

She looks up at him suspiciously, like she thinks he’s making fun of her, and Sam lets her see the heat in his eyes. The grin is back, and she’s grabbing him by the lapels and rocking onto her tiptoes, swaying into him with a little sigh and a lot of confidence. Sam slides both hands into her hair and ducks down to kiss her, sucking on her lower lip and tasting waxy red.

Breathtakingly competent and moderately bitchy has always sorta been his type.

“We had a bet,” he points out, before crushing his mouth to hers again. She makes a sound like a purr and wrenches herself away, grabbing him by the wrist and making a beeline for the path.

“I’m gonna say we both won here,” she says decisively. “Let’s go.”

* * * * * * * * * *

She grabs him the second the lock slides into place, backing him against the door, already tugging at his belt. He yanks her jacket off her shoulders and she lets it fall, and then he grabs her by the belt loops, reeling her in until she’s pressed against him, hips flush to his as he slouches against the door. He bends to mouth at the long smooth line of her throat.

“Talk to me,” he says, nipping at her earlobe. She shivers.

“Fuck that,” she says hoarsely. “Didn’t bring you here to talk.”

“Don’t worry, I can multitask.” Sam nibbles at the curve where her neck meets her shoulder, working delicate skin between his teeth, and pops the button of her jeans. He slides a hand down, teasing her clit with his fingertips, and repeats: “Tell me what you like.”

“I like a lot less conversation and a whole lot more nudity,” Faith tosses back, but her voice is ragged, and she tilts her head to the side, baring her neck for his teeth. “I don’t fuckin’ know, dude, are we doing this or not?”

He bends just enough to scoop her up, and she goes with it, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck as he cups her ass with both hands. When he turns them around, slamming her back against the door and rolling his hips, Faith lets out a breathy sound of surprise.

He drags his open mouth up the side of her throat and repeats, “Talk to me.”

She pulls him up by the hair, forcing his head back, rough and perfect, and Sam moans against her lips as she kisses him. It’s more like a bite, all teeth and heat.

“Bedroom’s that way,” she says huskily.

She’s so strong, rock-solid where she’s wrapped around him, that it’s barely an effort to carry her through the small, spare living space. She’s got her hands in his hair and her teeth scraping his collarbone, and Sam grits his teeth against the sting as he kicks the door shut behind them.

“Get your fuckin’ clothes off already,” she rasps, tugging at his flannel, and he strips both his shirts off obligingly, leaning back against the wall to balance as he discards them without putting Faith down.

She lets go of his neck to help him, holding herself up with no support other than her abs and her thighs. Sam’s just as turned on by that casual display of strength as by the sight of bare skin — no bra — when she peels her tank top off. He hoists her a little higher, until he can flick his tongue over one hard pink nipple. He blows a stream of cool air over the sensitive skin and she shivers, thighs squeezing his sides as she arches her back.

“What do you want?” Sam whispers, and laves his tongue over the other nipple.

“Fuck, anything, you’re killin’ me here.”

“Anything?” He scrapes pebbled skin with his teeth, savoring the way she squirms.

“Want you naked. Now.” She twists out of his grasp like a cat, sliding down his front and landing gracefully on her feet. Gracefully but loudly, that is; she crouches to deal with her big chunky boots, and Sam toes off his own.

He grins down at her as she tugs on his belt, admiring the way her mouth looks: bright red from his teeth, now, with the last smudges of lipstick smeared down her chin.

Sam bats her hands away from his zipper. He picks her up before she can argue and tosses her bodily onto the bed, and she bounces on the mattress, her hair spilling across the sheet like a dark glossy halo. She lifts her hips to get her jeans off, her torso bowing up in a long elegant curve.

Neither of them hide the way they check each other out when the clothes are finally out of the way. Sam kneels on the bed, looking down at her, and she bites her lip, tracking the movement of his hand as he strokes himself lazily.

“Is this what you want?” he asks. “Ask for it.”

Her eyes sparkle, mischievous and defiant, and she moves so fast that Sam’s taken by surprise when she grabs him — he can’t remember the last time that happened to him, let alone in bed. She pulls him down on top of her and rolls them over, switching their positions, and Sam laughs breathlessly as she pins his wrists to the pillow on either side of his head.

“I don’t like takin’ orders,” she says smugly.

“Is that true?” Sam counters. “Or have you just never met anybody who knows how to give orders?”

She looks startled by that, but instead of responding, she straddles him — sinks down on him wet and tight and perfect — and Sam has to grit his teeth and close his eyes for a moment, adjusting to all that sudden slippery heat around him.

There’s a gratifyingly breathless note in her voice when she says, “Does it matter? Point is, I can take care of myself.”

She’s not fucking kidding about that part.

She arches into a spectacular back-bend, supporting herself with one hand and zero visible effort. Her other hand is between her legs, rubbing her clit hard and fast as she bucks her hips up in little jerky rocking movements — and there’s an image that will (hopefully) be seared into Sam’s memory until the day he dies. For a moment all he can do is watch and try to memorize it. Then he presses the heel of his hand into her lower belly, grinding into her as best he can, and she clenches around him, soaking and squeezing in pulses so intense it almost hurts as she comes with a rough, husky moan.

“This is gonna be fun,” Sam breathes, and he tugs her upright for one searing kiss before flipping her onto her stomach.

* * * * * * * * * *

When Sam offers to wash her hair, she reacts like he just proposed marriage, except instead of an engagement ring, he’d offered her a grenade pin — shock, disbelief, and more than a little fear.

“Please tell me this is a kinky thing,” she says warily, and Sam laughs, tilting his head back in the spray and sluicing water from his face with both hands. When he looks down at her again, she’s still got her lip curled and her defenses up.

“It’s not a kinky thing,” he says, rolling his eyes.

She can’t get far in the shower stall, but she turns her back to him, and Sam’s forcibly reminded of a cat, licking her paws dry after accidentally stepping in a puddle.

“I can wash my own damn hair. Shit, don’t get all touchy-feely on me.”

Sam’s had a lifetime of practice at remaining earnest in the face of someone who’s determined to pretend they don’t want his kindness. He knows better than to give up that easily.

“Come here,” he says, smoothing his hands up her sides. She doesn’t relax, exactly, but she doesn’t shy away. “Faith. Different universe, remember? Not a romantic thing. I just want to touch you.”

She takes a reluctant half-step back, settling against him without a word.

Sam squirts a dollop of shampoo into his palm, tilting her chin up so that her head falls back, and he massages her scalp with his fingertips, rubbing in firm circles.

“Keep your eyes closed for me,” he tells her quietly, maneuvering her into the spray, but he shields her face carefully with one hand as he starts to rinse the lather out, making sure the bubbles don’t go anywhere near the fan of her spiky-wet lashes. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” she croaks, barely audible under the sound of the water. “S’ not so bad.”

“Speaking of kinky things,” he says casually. “We should talk about that.”

“Yeah?”

“What do you like? What’s your safeword?”

“Safeword?” She snorts, dismissive. “What, you really think you could dish out somethin’ I couldn’t take?”

Sam clenches his jaw. He’s glad her back is to him so she can’t see the expression on his face right now.

There are no more bubbles in her hair, but he keeps running his hands through it, just to have something to do as he figures out how to say this.

“I don’t think there’s much you couldn’t take,” he tells her softly. “I think you might be the strongest woman I’ve ever met.”

“Damn straight,” she mutters, mollified.

Sam squeezes out some conditioner, finger-combing it through her hair.

“You don’t trust me,” he says. It’s not a question.

“Fuck no,” she replies promptly. “Why would I? Trust is something you gotta earn.”

Sam’s mouth twists into a smile. “Fair enough. But… it’s not about seeing how much you can take. It’s about you trusting me to stop, no questions asked, if you say that word. You want me to take control, I’ll do it. Believe me, I’m down. But not until you trust me. If you think you can do that, all you gotta do is ask. Okay?”

She takes a breath like she wants to say something, but she seems to think better of it. She lets out a sigh, looking at him — through him — and all he gets is a subdued, “Yeah, okay.”

Sam tilts her head back gently again, working his fingers through her hair until the little crease of a frown fades from her forehead. He turns her in his arms, cradling her against his chest, and she lets him, resting her cheek over his heart.

“Poughkeepsie.”

“Gesundheit.”

“Cute. It’s a city where I — I was in over my head, one time, and I needed help. That’s my safeword.”

She pulls back, looking up at him, confusion written all over her face. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I trust you.”

“Really?”

Sam shrugs. “If somebody offered you a lot of money to kill me, I’d sure as fuck be watching my back. But… as far as respecting boundaries? Here and now, just you and me? Yeah, I trust you completely.”

Faith stares, scanning his expression for a hint of a lie, but when she doesn’t find one, her eyes soften. Her lips curl briefly into a pleased little smile.

“Didn’t really take you for the submissive type.”

“I’m not.”

She cocks her head thoughtfully, gaze calculating, and prods, “Go on, then. You’re the one who wants to talk about everything.”

“No bodily fluids.”

“With you on that one. There’s good freaky fun and then there’s just freaky. What else? Bet you’d look real pretty tied to my bed.”

“No chains. Ropes, cuffs, that’s fine — no chains. Um.. pain isn’t a big deal. I’d rather you didn’t draw blood, but… as far as pain goes, don’t worry about pushing too far.”

“Tryna be a tough guy?”

“No. Just telling you the facts. Temperature play is a hard limit. Ice, especially.”

“Okay. So… if I wanted to blindfold you, tie you up, and ride your face for a while…”

“Works for me.” She gets out of the shower without another word, grabbing a towel, all business, and he laughs. “Somebody’s in a hurry.”

“You’ve got like sixty seconds before the hot water runs out and it gets all end-of-Titanic in there.” She flashes him a grin. “Also, yeah. Let’s go.”

* * * * * * * * * *

She pretends she’s asleep, for a while, but then she slips out of bed, and her bare feet don’t make a sound as she navigates the apartment in the dark. He hears the toilet flush, water run, then the creak of… something.

He gives her a minute to herself before he gets up, just as silent as she was, and follows the smell of smoke to the open window. She’s leaning on the sill, silhouetted by the filtered yellow light of street lamps, and when she takes a drag the orange ember flares in the dark.

“Jesus, fuckin’ scared the shit outta me,” she snaps. The Boston in her voice comes out strong when she’s startled. When she offers him the last bit of the cigarette he takes it, grabbing her wrist with the other hand, and throws it out the window as he pulls her close.

“Hey, I was smokin’ that,” she protests, voice crackly like there’s a popping fire down in her chest.

Sam traces the curve of her cheek. He brushes one curled knuckle back and forth over her lower lip and then drags the pad of his thumb over the pillow of it, watching the soft give as he presses down. Her tongue darts out to flicker over his thumb, but otherwise, she’s motionless.

Faith takes his wrist, holding his hand to her mouth, and swirls her tongue over the pad of his thumb. Then she slides his index and middle fingers into her mouth, sucking on them shamelessly. They slide from her lips with a wet pop. A bolt of heat thuds through Sam’s gut — he’s only human.

“I like your hands,” she purrs, with one last suggestive lick.

“Something in particular you want me to do with them?” he asks.

She hesitates and presses a kiss to the center of his palm before answering: “I bet you have some ideas.”

“Tell me what you want, Faith.”

For a second there’s a deer-in-headlights vulnerability in her huge dark eyes, and she can’t hide the slight frown that flickers across her face.

“Why do you keep asking me that?” she whispers. She’s still holding his wrist. Sam twists to lace his fingers through hers instead, letting their joined hands drop palm-to-palm.

“Because sex isn’t fun for me unless everybody’s getting what they want. Call me crazy, but…”

“I brought you here, didn’t I? You know I want it. That’d be good enough, for most guys. Believe me, if you do somethin’ I don’t like, I’ll tell you about it.”

Sam closes his eyes, thinking of a half-dozen possible answers to that question. He considers telling her about Meg and Gadreel and all the other things that have slithered in over the years and used his body without his permission. He feels a phantom pain in his palm and remembers Lucifer’s taunt — you let me in — and he considers telling her about why he can’t stand the feel of ice or the rattle of chains.

He settles for the most fundamental answer: “Because you deserve to get what you want. You deserve better than ‘good enough.’”

She digests that silently for a moment, and then she guides his hand firmly to her hip, before grabbing the other and placing it flat on her breastbone.

“Just… touch me?” she asks, and Sam smiles, shifting closer, running his hands over her skin: fingertips in the dip of her throat, thumb stroking her collarbone, palm sweeping up and down her side, gentle and deliberately innocent.

“Why does it bother you so much when I ask?” he says softly.

She grimaces, and for a second it looks like she’ll brush it off, make a joke of it.

“Not used to it, I guess. Most guys don’t ask. I think guys look at me, they make some assumptions, you know?”

“Such as?”

She shrugs. “Guess they figure I’m down for anything.”

“Faith.”

“Don’t. Anyway, it’s more than that. Most people, they only offer to give you something if they want something in return.”

“What do you think I want from you?”

“That’s what’s got me spun out. Figured you just wanted a great lay, but… you’re still here.” She drops her gaze. “Bein’ all sweet and shit.”

Sam tries to hide his smile. “Should I not be?”

“Can’t figure you out,” Faith mumbles. “You’re different.”

Sam thinks about that for a moment as he folds to his knees in front of her. He drags his mouth down the center of her chest, tasting salt, and nips at the soft skin under her belly-button.

“How do you mean?” He looks up at her again, holding eye contact as he traces her hipbone with his tongue.

“I’m not the kinda chick that sweet guys usually go for, you know?” She slides her fingers through his hair, tugging lightly, and Sam hums his approval. “The nice ones know better. I’m the girl all the bad guys want.”

“That seems a bit reductive, don’t you think?”

“See, shit like that. Your mouth’s an inch away from my pussy and you’re using words like reductive.”

“I just want you. All of you, not just the ‘nice’ parts or the shit you show most guys.”

“Might not be saying that if — oh. Do that again.”

“Faith, trust me when I say that whatever you’ve done, I’ve done worse.”

“Jesus, can we talk about this later?”

“What do you want?”

“Want you to get your ass back in bed and quit teasing, for starters.”

“I can do that.”

* * * * * * * * * *

“The fuck did you find in the fridge?” Faith asks hoarsely.

“Beer and pickles,” he says, glancing over his shoulder with a grin.

She’s leaning against the frame of the bedroom door, wearing his flannel and nothing else. It’s open, baring a long slice of pale skin, from the dip between her breasts and down her stomach to a neat trail of dark hair. She looks like a centerfold, but rumpled and sleepy-eyed and real, human, in a way that makes it so much hotter.

“You went out.” She frowns at the front door.

“Are you surprised I came back?”

“Honestly? Not really.” Sam hides his smile at that answer. “Except that door’s supposed to lock automatically.”

“It does. I picked the lock.”

“Anything you can’t do?” Faith comes over and hoists herself up onto the counter next to him, eyeing the pan of bacon eagerly.

“Never been good at walking in heels.” Sam passes her the extra large to-go cup of dark roast he’d gotten her from the local coffee place, and she grins.

“Shit, you really know how to spoil a girl.”

Sam puts a hand on her bare thigh, thumb running back and forth idly as he takes her in, tracing the shape of her body with his eyes. She gives him a raised eyebrow and sips her coffee quietly. There’s none of the wariness or put-on swagger from last night. She just seems comfortable.

“No bruises,” he says, hand sliding up higher, finding nothing but unblemished skin where he knows he left marks. Every imprint of Sam’s teeth and hands and hipbones has melted away.

“Slayer healing.” She leans back on her palms, inviting him to touch more. Sam pulls his hand away — pancakes to flip — but he smirks.

“That’s a shame. They looked good on you.”

Faith’s eyes go dark. “Yeah?”

“I’ll just have to leave some more… later. Breakfast is ready.”

Faith eats with an indecent enthusiasm that reminds him of Dean, but somehow that doesn’t surprise him. Which… speaking of Dean — Sam borrows her cell as they’re finishing breakfast, because apparently other universes aren’t included in his roaming service, and a sleepy female voice picks up.

“Faith?”

“Sam, actually. Is my brother around?”

“Sam? Did you… you and Faith?” Buffy’s voice goes a little squeaky at the end. Then there’s indistinct scuffling.

Faith swipes her index finger through the maple syrup that’s left on her plate, sucking it clean, hollowing her cheeks in a way that’s pretty fucking distracting.

“Sammy?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Hey. You didn’t even notice I was gone, did you?”

“Where are you? Who’s Faith?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sam says. “Did Charlie fix the thing?”

“Uh, hang on.” There’s a muffled conversation on the other line.

Faith gets up, walking around the table to pick up Sam’s plate, her movements slinky and deliberate, her hips swaying, showing off tantalizing glimpses of skin as his flannel skims the curves of her body. He twists around to watch her go. Faith sets both plates in the sink and stretches, and the flannel rides up her thighs.

“Pretty sure Charlie’s not awake yet either,” Dean says. “Late nights all around. Go team. Should we save you some breakfast?”

“No, I’m busy.”

Dean is saying something, but Sam’s not really paying attention. Faith is leaning on the table, bent at the waist, the flannel riding up to expose the lower curve of her ass. Sam turns in his chair to raise an eyebrow at her, pointedly adjusting himself in his jeans. She smirks like the cat who got the cream.

“Just call this number when you need me, Dean,” Sam says abruptly, cutting him off. “See you later.” He hangs up before Dean can get a protest in.

She bats her eyelashes, sugary-sweet. “Sorry, did I distract you?”

“Don’t lie. You’re not sorry at all.” Sam shakes his head, mock-scolding, and gives her a light tap, mostly to watch the way her flesh jiggles just right under his hand.

She grins, wiggling her hips and spreading her legs a little wider. “If you’re gonna do it, do it like you mean it.”

There’s a long, weighted pause.

“Are you asking me for —”

“Fuck yes I am.”

“Faith…”

She’s quiet but sincere when she says, “I trust you.”

Sam exhales sharply, and because she looks nervous, now, he quips, “Should’ve known bacon would do the trick.” She laughs at that and relaxes, so he stands up slowly and asks, “Safeword?”

“Dorchester.”

Sam smiles — equal parts amused by the word choice and touched by the trust. He runs a hand down her back and then up again, taking the soft fabric with him, rucking it up. He takes his time, drawing it out to watch the way she pouts, positioning himself behind her and flattening a palm between her shoulderblades to push her down. She braces herself on her forearms.

“Good girl.”

“Well?”

“Be patient.”

“Fucking hit me already,” she says sulkily.

“You can have anything you want,” he promises her, and he grabs a handful of hair, yanking her head back. “You just have to ask for it. Politely.”

He hears the way she sucks in a breath, ragged and desperate, and he smiles.

“Please spank me. Hard.”

“Good girl,” he repeats. He steps back and squeezes before smacking her, nowhere near hard enough to hurt.

“C’mon, is that the best you’ve got?” she teases, laughing.

“You know it’s not.” He brings his hand down with a satisfying sound, and Faith groans.

“Harder,” she grits out.

The next one makes her cry out, ragged and ecstatic. He hits her again, hard enough that his palm smarts, wrist snapping precisely so that the blows are spaced just right across her ass and her upper thighs.

By the time he pauses again she’s panting harshly. He takes a second to admire her, the pretty shade of red blossoming on her pale skin and the way she’s arching her back, putting herself on display for him.

“Fuck, you look good like this.” He kicks her feet farther apart and traces up her center with two callused fingertips. “So wet already, aren’t you?”

She tries to push back into it, to fuck herself on his fingers as she whimpers, “More?”

He lets loose, brings his palm down with a vicious crack, and he can see the way her legs start to shake.

“Shit, do you have any idea what you do to me?” He leans forward, grinding against her, letting her feel how hard he is through his jeans, and when he pulls back again she moans. Her skin is hot to the touch. He runs his fingers over it teasingly before sliding two fingers into her cunt, curling them, pumping and twisting as Faith curses and clenches around him.

“Need you,” she pants. “More.”

“Let me hear you,” he says. He pulls his fingers out and spanks her again, and she shudders, head bowed, pussy glistening wet.

“Please fuck me,” she breathes. He’s reaching for his belt before she gets the word out.

“Since you asked so nicely.”

He rubs the head of his cock through her slickness, teasing, and when she tries to push back, his shaft slides between her lips, dragging along her clit. He bites back a groan and plants his left hand solidly at the base of her neck, forcing her to drop down with her cheek to the table, holding her in place.

“Shit,” she snaps. “Fuckin’ give it to me.”

“What did I say?”

“Want to feel that big thick cock, please,” she says. He can hear the wicked edge in her voice. “Want to feel you fillin’ me up when I come. Just fucking wreck me, Sam. Hold me down and make me scream… please.” She pauses and then asks smugly, “Fuckin’ polite enough for you?”

She could recite a grocery list in that ragged, raspy voice and it’d probably turn him on, at this point; as it is, he feels dizzy from sudden lack of bloodflow to his brain.

“We gotta work on those manners,” he says softly, and pushes into her, just a couple inches, before sliding out again. She whines.

He does it over and over again — one torturously shallow thrust after another — working her open with little rocking motions that are nowhere near enough. She whimpers, and he watches, clocking every shudder that runs up her spine, every involuntary quiver as he fucks into her a little deeper, slick spreading up the flushed-dark length of his cock with each stroke.

It takes every last shred of his self-control, but he forces himself to move slowly, deliberately, until she’s dripping wet and slamming her fists into the table.

Finally, she caves, sobbing two syllables like they’re the only words she remembers: “Please — Sam — please — Sam — please —”

“That’s better,” he sighs, and grabs her by the hips, shifting until he finds the spot that makes her twitch and squirm. She quakes when he hits it dead-on, and he sets an unrelenting pace, fucking her so hard the table hammers against the wall, a rapid-fire counterpoint to her broken, drawn-out cries.

Faith bucks helplessly as she comes, and Sam lets go a split-second later, half collapsing forward as he grinds into her one last time. He braces himself with both palms flat on the wood, and his knees threaten to give out.

His first coherent thought is amazement that the table is still standing, and while he’s trying to remember how to speak, Faith mumbles, “Shit, can’t believe we haven’t broken any furniture yet.” Sam laughs so unexpectedly he almost chokes, and maybe it’s contagious, because Faith starts giggling too.

Sam maneuvers them onto one of the chairs in a messy pretzel of sweat and skin and half-discarded clothes. A surge of pure giddy affection swells in his ribcage, and he wraps his arms around her, squeezing tight, tickling her with his stubble against her neck until she shrieks and twists.

Faith turns her head at an awkward angle to kiss him. Then she mumbles, “Is there more bacon? I could go for more bacon.”

“Anything you want.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Faith stretches extravagantly as she gets up from the opposite end of the couch, and his flannel slips off her shoulders. She lets it fall as she pads over to the fridge.

“Have I mentioned today how good you look naked?” Sam asks.

She pulls two bottles of beer from the fridge and strikes a goofy, mock-sexy pose. “No, but go right ahead.”

“You look really fucking good naked.”

“Not so bad yourself.” She passes him a bottle and sprawls out with her legs draped across his lap. “Why’d you put your clothes back on, anyway?”

“Hot bacon grease and nudity isn’t a good combo. Trust me.”

“Sounds like the voice of experience talking there.”

“Not personal experience,” Sam says with a smirk. “Dean, though…”

She laughs. He tosses the last bite of bacon at her, and she catches it in her mouth.

“Not cooking any more though, are you?” she asks archly.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” He obliges, though, stripping unceremoniously, and Faith catcalls. She crawls into his lap when he sits back down, leaning in for a kiss that tastes like beer.

“Much better,” she says quietly, pressing her forehead to his.

“Really thought I might’ve tired you out there.”

“Honestly? Yeah, I need a minute,” she confesses, with a laugh. “Just wanted some eye candy.”

“At your service.”

She settles a little more comfortably in his lap, straddling him, and they exchange slow, lazy kisses. Sam can’t bring himself to stop kissing her. Her lips are soft and plush, and every brush of her tongue and nip of her teeth feels like a luxury, like something he should treasure, because he knows this intimacy has an expiration date.

They stare at each other for a long moment, sweet and almost shy.

Sam offers, “Want to watch a soap opera on mute and make up our own dialogue?”

Her dimples really show when she’s surprised to find herself smiling. She grabs their beers and the remote from the milk crate that serves as her coffee table, raising her bottle in a toast, and then she curls up at Sam’s side, naked and soft and bruised. She fits under his arm like she was meant to be there.

It’s the happiest Sam can remember being in a long time.

Normal, he thinks. This is what normal people do — breakfast and kisses on the couch — tenderness and softness and quiet everyday vulnerability.

Then again, neither of them are normal, not really. Maybe that’s why Sam feels so comfortable with her.

* * * * * * * * * *

This time, she passes him the shampoo without a word, sighing as he cradles the back of her skull with one hand and smooths the hair back from her forehead with the other. When he’s finished, hazy honey-colored eyes blink up at him slowly, like she’s coming out of a trance. It’s a dizzying change from the last time they did this.

They haven’t said goodbye yet and he already misses her — misses this — but he knows he’s lucky to have it for a moment, however brief.

The scalding water feels like heaven on his sore muscles. Sam tilts his head to the side, trying to stretch, and his neck makes a series of popping noises. Faith winces in sympathy.

“Shit, man,” she chuckles. “You sound like Rice Krispies.” She maneuvers around him in the narrow space, reaching up to dig her knuckles into one of his many knots. Sam groans, exaggeratedly pornographic.

Her hands are small, but strong, and Sam’s melting under her palms, increasingly loose-limbed and pliant as she works her thumbs in circles down the muscles on either side of his spine.

“We should get out of here before I forget how to stand up,” he mutters, and Faith laughs. “I think it’s your turn.”

“I like the sound of that.”

She lays herself out on the bed, stomach down, and Sam takes a moment to stare. The way she’s put together — sleek muscle and lush curves under creamy skin — is like art. If she was anyone else, Sam might call her delicate, but he knows better; he knows exactly what she can do. She’s a hurricane disguised as a porcelain doll.

He looks down at his own rough fingers, thickly callused from pencils and triggers and punches, and grabs a bottle of lotion from the dresser before he settles on the bed, straddling her hips. His hands seem massive on her shoulders, and when he drags his palms down, wrapping his fingers around the slim curve of her waist, he marvels at the way she almost fits in the circle of his grasp.

He loses himself in the pleasure of just touching her — in the glide of silky skin under his fingers — in the soft grunts and hums she lets out when he works his fingers into a particularly tight knot. He sweeps his thumbs down the pretty little dimples at the small of her back and then lower, caressing and kneading. He’s careful to avoid pressing on the dappled purple-red bruises from earlier, but he skims them appreciatively, feather-light.

“Do those hurt?” he whispers.

“Little bit. I like it.”

He was already half-hard, aroused in a distant, lazy sort of way, but his dick twitches at that.

He brushes his fingertips down the outsides of her thighs, then up the insides, watching the way she spreads her legs wider for him, but he stops just short of the apex, tracing out along the creases where her ass meets her legs instead.

This feels like a form of worship.

Sam bends to press his mouth to the small of her back, kissing one dimple then the other. He trails sweet open-mouthed kisses down the curve of her ass, lips dragging reverently over velvety skin, licking and sucking along the tops of her thighs, drinking in the way she whimpers and shivers.

“More?” she murmurs.

Sam hooks an arm around her, sliding his forearm under her hips to cant them up so he can lick a thick stripe right up her center, swiping his tongue down and up again with a slick slurping noise. The angle isn’t comfortable but it’s fucking hot; it feels like he’s completely surrounded by her, like this, and when he licks deeper, fucks her shallowly with his tongue, the taste of her arousal floods his senses, until the soapy-clean smell of freshly-showered skin is lost under salty-sweet musk and Sam’s mouth and chin are a mess of slick and spit.

She’s trembling as she repeats, “More.”

He drags his tongue in one broad swipe from her clit up between her ass cheeks, and she curses, pressing back against his mouth. He twists two fingers into her cunt, feeling her clamp down around his scarred knuckles and shudder under his mouth, a frisson of pleasure that travels all the way up her spine. He curls his tongue against tight muscle and crooks his fingers, circles her swollen clit with his thumb, and she muffles a sharp cry into the pillow as she comes.

“More — please — Sam?” she gasps, still clenching around him, so wet he can hear the sound of his fingers pumping into her one last time.

He slides on top of her, blanketing her body with his, kissing the nape of her neck as he presses into her. She reaches back and fists a hand in his hair, making a rough wordless noise that sounds like a question, and her fingers twist until his scalp stings and Sam groans. He sits up, straddling her legs, and his entire body throbs with the pulse of blood in his cock as he fucks her. With her legs together like this, pinned under him, she feels so impossibly tight — velvety-soft and steely all at once — he can barely see straight.

She’s crying out with every gasping breath: “More — please.”

Sam wonders what he could do if he could learn her body, learn what she likes, learn how to take her apart in seconds or draw it out until she’s a writhing mess… if he had just a little more time with her.

* * * * * * * * * *

Faith is wrecked and gorgeous on top of him, not riding him so much as undulating: deep scooping twists of her hips, rising and falling syrupy-slow like she’s moving underwater. There’s dark sweat-soaked hair clinging to her temples and a hazy-eyed, rosy-cheeked expression of bliss on her face. Sam watches a droplet of sweat trickle down between her breasts.

He’s losing his grip on time and the boundaries that used to sit so decisively between them. They’re both exhausted to the point that everything seems a little surreal, dreamy, right in that sweet spot where they might be too tired to come again but languid, sensual sex still feels amazing.

“So fucking perfect,” he whispers. “Just like that.”

Faith tilts forward to kiss him, melting against his chest as she rolls her hips. He wraps her up in his arms and flips them, still inside her, still twined around her. He rocks into her, testing one angle and then another, hitching her leg up higher around his waist, grinding and swiveling until he finds the angle that makes her choke out a curse and clutch at his biceps.

“There,” she whimpers.

Heat starts to pool low in his gut, building slowly but inevitably. He leans down to kiss her, tasting salt, mouths brushing clumsily between deep ragged breaths.

“Gorgeous like this.”

“Sam,” she says helplessly, in the shredded whisper that’s left of her voice. “This — you —“

“I’ve got you, it’s okay. I know.”

Neither of them are particularly coherent, but he knows.

Gold rays of sun slant through the blinds in stripes, illuminating the amber in her irises and the suspicious shine gathering in the corner of her eyes. She smiles up at him in a way that leaves him breathless. It takes him by surprise, the trust in her expression and the heaviness in the moment, and he knows she can feel it too.

Sam wants to shy away from it, but he can’t take his eyes off her.

“Where’s that Al Green soundtrack when you need it, huh?” she manages, and it shocks a breathless laugh out of Sam. Faith giggles too, choked-up and overtired and hoarse. Sam can feel her laugh, feels the rippling clench of wet-hot muscle around him; his body reacts with this gut-punch of arousal, and he snaps his hips, driving in deep. She lets out a rough moan and writhes under him, raking her nails down his back.

From there it builds fast, wild and uncontrollable and blinding, both of them clawing at each other, moving on pure animalistic instinct, lost in each other — lost in the moment. It’s the sort of orgasm that hits like a blackout, like Sam’s out of his body for a few seconds that might as well be an eternity.

When he comes to, he’s whispering nonsense into the sweat-slick crook of her neck — babbling endearments, calling her baby — saying sweet stupid things she would never accept if she was in her right mind, but she doesn’t argue; he’s grateful. In return, Sam pretends not to notice the tears sparkling in her eyelashes.

They’re not sad tears, he knows that much. She’s beaming up at him, all this messy pure human happiness shining in her eyes. She’s beautiful.

Eventually they stop shaking, and Sam whispers, “Nap?”

“Yeah.”

She tucks herself under his chin, and he strokes her hair, counting the breaths before she drops off. She’s asleep in ten, and Sam loses count at eleven.

* * * * * * * * * *

They’re woken in disorienting darkness by a jangling ringtone, and Sam’s immediate instinct is to grab the gun he keeps under his pillow. There’s no gun, though — just a warm naked girl draped over him, cursing like a sailor as the phone continues to ring — because there’s no need for a gun here.

Faith answers the phone by growling a suggestion that sounds anatomically improbable, and Sam hears Dean’s gruff baritone on the other end. He snatches the phone out of her hand.

“S’the middle of the fucking night, Dean,” he grumbles.

“Dude, it’s nine. When was the last time you were asleep by nine?”

“Fuck.” He knuckles at his eyes and fights the urge to hang up, turn the phone off, and burrow under the sweat-soaked sheets to sleep until he actually feels rested for once. “Yeah, okay, be there soon.”

Sam is about to apologize for waking Faith, but she sits up too, switching on the lamp, looking around bleary-eyed.

“Gonna walk with you as far as the graveyard,” she says, through a yawn. “Vamps don’t take a night off.”

Sam feels like he got hit by a goddamn truck, sore and achy all over, but the exhaustion goes much deeper than that. In spite of it, he’s smiling as they dress.

They’re quiet, nothing but a soft, “You see my other sock?” interrupting the heavy silence. They don’t touch as they leave the dark apartment and head down the dingy stairwell into the warm California night, and they don’t talk. They’re pulling themselves together — rebuilding the walls that separate them from normal people — putting on the emotional armor that allows them to fight the battles they have to fight.

They don’t wander away from the path through the cemetery, this time, and the monsters don’t find them. When they reach the gate on the other side, Faith stops.

“You know how to get back from here?”

“Yeah.” He pulls her in by her jacket to kiss her, deep and bruising.

She pulls away enough to mutter, “Fuckin’ figures you’re from another goddamn universe.”

“If things were different —”

“They’re not, though,” Faith says, smiling ruefully. “And that’s for the best.”

“Probably wouldn’t end well, would it? ”

“We’d never get outta bed, the monsters would take over. Every universe needs its heroes, right?”

“Right.” Sam cradles her face in his hands to give her another soft kiss and says, “Take care of yourself.”

Faith steps back. “Always do.”

She turns, pulling a stake out of her jacket as she stalks away, off the path toward the darker corners of the graveyard. Sam watches her go.

She doesn’t look back, but before she’s out of earshot, she shouts, “Quit starin’ at my ass and go save the world already. You’ve got work to do.”

Sam laughs, and then he rolls his eyes and starts walking, smiling to himself. She’s not wrong.

#1kclassicrockchallenge #sam winchester fic #sam winchester #faith lehane #btvs #spn #supernatural #spn x btvs #supernatural x buffy the vampire slayer #crossover fic #sam winchester x faith lehane

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edens-breathless-melodies-moved · 4 years

Text

words: 3.4k

pairing: kageyama t. x f!chubby!reader

prompt: sweat kink

warnings: cursing, oral (female receiving), fucking in a personal gym, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), sweat licking (he’s a freak lmao)

summary: kageyama knew you looked good while working out. the way your soft arms would suddenly flex and he’d see the muscles you were so good at hiding.

he knew he liked to watch you work out, but he never would have known that the sight of you covered in sweat would stir something so primal in him.

a/n: kageyama likes his women chunky you can’t change my mind. just to clarify, reader is an american who came to japan because iwa convinced her she’d go to the olympics if she followed him. she met iwa in her first year of college and quickly became friends. reader is insinuated to be a rather plush woman, but she’s ✨ s t w o n g ✨

“group bonding exercise?”

you repeated dubiously, blinking owlishly at the blonde in front of you as he just sits there and smiles, nodding his head.

you look to the other men in the olympic gymnasium for help, but they either shrug their shoulders in equal confusion or nodded their heads with atsumu.

when you had walked through the gym doors this morning with iwaizumi, ready to start the days training, you didn’t expect to have atsumu come up to you and propose a “bonding experience”, in his words.

hinata came bounding up to you with that ridiculous speed of his, orange hair bouncing in his excitement. he was practically vibrating with energy, hazel eyes glowing under the fluorescent lighting.

“yeah! we overheard you saying how you wanted to get back in shape and slim down a little, so what better group to help you out than us?”

all the men in the gym froze at his oblivious words, shocked that he really just said that to your face. kageyama froze in the middle of his lunges and choked, eyes wide.

‘this idiot really has no class…’ they all thought simultaneously as they watched the scene unfold with bated breath, waiting for the inevitable moment you ripped his head off and stomped on his body.

if there was one thing they all knew, they knew it was to never mention a woman’s weight. especially to you. you weren’t exactly the thinnest around, but that didn’t make you any less attractive.

in all honesty, you were hot, in all your foreign, sexy glory.

to everyone’s obvious surprise however, instead of killing the ginger, you laughed instead and patted him on his floof, thanking him for reminding you.

the team sweat dropped as hinata bounced around, clearly enjoying the head pat as he started spouting off different types of exercises they wanted you to do, bokuto and atsumu quickly joining in.

they all surely expected you to spike his head off or something, but they were pleasantly surprised and grateful you didn’t. they couldn’t afford to replace him so close to the games.

you see, you were no stranger to physical violence or getting physical in general. you had been recruited to manage the japanese men’s olympic volleyball team by none other than iwaizumi hajime, himself.

it was funny how things worked out because you two had already known each other before the offer was even offered.

you had met previously during college where you both graduated with the same degree. having spent the last four years taking the same classes and becoming best friends, it wasn’t a surprise when iwa asked you to come back with him to japan.

though you were pretty adamant in staying in america, despite knowing japanese, you somehow were convinced by him. before you knew it, you were saying goodbye to your hometown of los angeles and saying hello to tokyo.

because of your past with iwaizumi coupled with the fact that you both had the same degree and title, you two were known as the demon trainers from hell.

where iwa was all obvious brute strength and harsh glares, you were much more reserved but still equally as terrifying with your sickly sweet smiles and icy words if the boys were getting out of line.

but just because you preferred to make them cry with your words instead of your fists, that didn’t mean it wasn’t common to see you either hitting one of them upside the head or spiking a ball at them with deadly accuracy.

when the team first met you, however, they could hardly believe that you were a certified athletic trainer, let alone their manager on top of that. it wasn’t anything against you, you just… didn’t look the part.

standing at a whopping 5’4”, all the men on the team easily dwarfed you in height, and your body wasn’t all hard planes and corded muscles. you were soft and squishy looking, running a little heavy for your height.

you just looked so adorable and soft. your cheeks had this permanent blush across them from your constant sunburn (blame the california sun), and they always puffed out when you pouted.

but that was their first mistake; underestimating you. even kageyama, your boyfriend, had underestimated you, though he denies it now.

it was actually how you two had met, though it was under less than ideal circumstances.

he was bold enough to question whether you were even meant to be on their team your first day meeting them, unintentionally offending you and all your hard work to get where you were.

“it’s nothing against you personally, but you just don’t look like you’re meant for the job.”

kageyama had said without looking at you, and everyone, including the coaches, were stunned by his blunt and brash words. even ushijima was rendered speechless.

kageyama looked around confusedly at everyone’s silence and wide eyes. what? did he say something wrong? he didn’t mean to offend you, he was just telling the truth how he saw it.

it was only when iwaizumi snickered and everyone broke out of their shocked reverie that all eyes shifted from kageyama to you.

chills ran down their spines at the eerily calm smile you gave kageyama, eyes closed tightly as you took a deep breath in. “you really fucked up now, kageyama.” iwaizumi chuckled.

everyone’s hearts stopped when you opened your eyes, and even kageyama shivered when your gaze met his. the way the fire in your eyes seemed to run so hot it could freeze over hell, looked eerily similar to the look hinata gives on the court.

“so i “don’t look the part”, hmm?” you muse, smile growing even wider as you watched the setter fumble over his words, trying to save face.

you let out an over dramatic sigh as you tossed your head back, clicking your tongue once as iwaizumi let out another laugh before walking over to stand by your side. apparently this happened often.

kageyama stopped fumbling over his words as he watched his old senpai cross his arms over his chest. you chuckled as you shucked off your trainer jacket, revealing your plain black t-shirt underneath.

the team never took their eyes off of you as you raised your arms above your head and stretched. gasps rang out across the gym as they saw your flex and the muscles that bulged from underneath your fluffy flesh.

“y’know, kageyama-san,” you drawled, lowering your arms as you began methodically stretching your thick legs, sharp eyes never leaving his. “you’re not the first person to say that to me.”

“she’s right,” iwaizumi mused with a smirk. “i’m pretty sure i was, and i still regret it to this day.”

kageyama gulped nervously and the team could only watch in awe as you finished your stretching before bending over slightly to your left.

you lined up your shoulders with iwaizumi’s hips as you placed a firm grip on his knee and around his shoulders.

with wide eyes and jaws dropped to the floor, the entire team and even the coaches watched you lift iwaizumi with ease and settle him into a comfortable fireman’s carry.

atsumu, bokuto, and hinata audibly screeched and even the usually stoic sakusa and ushijima choked on their spit in shock.

without breaking a sweat, in a sheer display of strength and power, you casually walked towards kageyama, and iwaizumi couldn’t repress his snickers because kageyama looked like he’d just seen a ghost.

how are you so strong?!

your smirk never left your lips as you stopped only a couple of feet away from the shocked olympian, and raised an eyebrow at him mockingly. “what’s wrong, kageyama-san? cat got your tongue?”

you grin grows maliciously as he struggles to answer you, obviously flustered. “do i still look too “soft” or “weak” to be able to handle you guys?”

when kageyama still didn’t answer you, still too flustered and shocked by your impressive display of strength, (cause iwaizumi is not light, that man is straight muscle), you sighed before giving the gym a quick scan before settling on one of the team's liberos.

“yaku-san.” yaku jumped at your polite tone when you called his name, but he quickly recovered with a sincere smile. “yes, (l/n)-san?”

you shot him a sweet smile of your own, and chose to ignore the blush across his cheeks to avoid embarrassing him. “can you give me a number between one and twenty?”

yaku stared at you confusedly along with the rest of the team and iwaizumi fully burst out laughing, shaking on your shoulders. you fought back your own grin as you threatened to drop him.

“um, ten?”

you grinned as you widened your stance, feet placed shoulder length apart as you took in a deep breath, preparing your muscles.

“good, i wanted a decent workout today, anyways.”

and when you began to squat your best friend with perfect posture and ease, kageyama didn’t even register the howling screeches of his teammates as they lost their minds over this mini she-hulk they just got as a manager.

instead, kageyama could only focus on the blood rushing through his ears and to his cheeks as he watched you squat his senpai with a smile on your beautiful face, a singular bead of sweat rolling down your temple.

oh, he was in deep now.

—————————

kageyama knew he should be ashamed of the way he was staring at you, but he couldn’t find it within himself to tear his eyes away.

with a harsh gulp and wide eyes, he watched you as you continued on with your leg presses, eyes closed as you took in even breaths.

you didn’t even seem bothered by the amount of weight you were pushing, but then again, 300 lbs was something normal to you.

finishing your reps, pushed your legs out fully before locking the press, taking a deep swig of your water as you lifted yourself up from your reclined sitting position.

blue eyes followed the trail of your sweat as it glided down the side of your neck before being absorbed into the fabric of your sports bra strap, and he gulped again, pants suddenly feeling tight.

that feeling only intensified when you lifted the edge of your shirt to wipe at your soaked brow, exposing your pudgy and soft tummy. you’ve never looked more delicious to kageyama than now.

when your boyfriend of six months and olympian in training had invited you to his home to work out in his personal gym after you finished atsumu’s little “team bonding experience” you didn’t expect him to just stare at you as you went about your reps and sets.

you chose to ignore the hungry way he gazed at your plush body as you moved over to where the squat stand was, bar already loaded with your preferred weight.

not minding the intense stare from across the room, you bit back a smile when you heard the light gasp come from your boyfriend as you ducked under the bar and settled it comfortably on your shoulders.

you stood up straight and relished in the familiar weight against your flesh. stepping back with a deep breath, making sure your posture was correct, you squatted your first rep.

as you came back up, you weren’t surprised when you noticed your boyfriend had disappeared from his seat by the shoulder press.

what did surprise you was the sudden warm presence behind you, and you bit back a startled gasp when you felt his large hands come to gently rest on your waist.

“as a professional trainer, you should know it’s dangerous to squat without a spotter.” kageyama’s deep voice muttered out. he resisted the urge to dig his fingers into your soft skin as you chuckled.

“you’re right, but i think i can handle myself.” you musea. you held back a gasp when he leaned forward to nudge his nose against your jaw, breath cool against your sweaty skin.

kageyama inhaled the musky yet sweet scent of your sweat against your skin and had to bite his lip to repress his groan. why was he getting so worked up over this?

“squatting 320 isn’t something you just cover on your own.” he growled into your ear, and you finally realized how worked up your boyfriend was from watching you work out.

not that you can blame him, however. watching him do his arm reps and the way his back muscles rippled under his plain white tee whenever he lifted himself for pull ups had your yoga pants feeling a little damp.

sensing things were about to get hot and heavy, you stepped towards the squat stand to put up your bar, kageyama’s hands never leaving your waist.

just as the weight left your shoulders and was properly put away, you let out a gasp when you felt his cool tongue slide sensually up your neck, and you blushed at the deep groan that left his lips.

your own moans soon filled the air as kageyama ground his hard cock against your ass through his joggers, groping your soft sides fully with his hands.

you rested your head against his chest as you let him massage your body roughly with his dexterous digits, mewling and panting at the way he teased and pinched your nipples through the fabric of your sports bra.

“you have no idea what you do to me,” he rasped in your ear, maneuvering your bodies to lay on the padded gym floor. you let him spread your thighs as you propped your body up on one elbow.

you panted lightly as kageyama looked down on you from above, kneeling between your legs while gazing over your glistening form.

your baby hairs stuck to your sweaty forehead as your skin seemed to glisten under the fluorescent lights above.

blue eyes zeroed in on a stray drop of sweat that glided from your neck and began its descent down the valley of your breasts.

something in him snapped and he lunged forward, causing you to yelp in surprise before moaning as he tongue followed the sweat drops path, groaning against your heated skin at the salty taste.

he needed more.

“the way you look when you’re working out, the way your sweat makes your skin glow,” a whine escaped your lips as he nipped gently at your collar bone.

he lifted his head to meet your eyes and you gasped at the feral look in his blue orbs, pupils blown wide with lust.

“you make me so hungry, (y/n).” before you had a chance to respond to him, the sudden sound of fabric tearing and your inner thighs exposed to cool air made you balk, and you stared at your boyfriend in shock.

“you did not just rip open my yoga pants!” kageyama gave you a blank look before shrugging, leaning his face down to your exposed core, pleased to find that you were already dripping onto the floor.

“i’ll buy you another pair.” a breathy moan replaced your curse for his causal destruction of your clothing as he licked a fat stripe up your cunt, fingers digging harshly into the plumpness of your thighs as he drank in your flavor.

moans spilled from your parted lips uncontrollably as kageyama ate you out, tongue flicking and suckling against your clit as one of his hands released your thigh in favor of sinking two fingers into your hot core.

“fuck!” you choke out in a whisper as you wind your fingers through his silky locks, gripping them tightly as you roll your hips into his face.

kageyama took your grinding on his face in stride, speeding up the movements of his fingers as he searched your walls for that one spot that made you see stars.

“a-ah!” you cried out, thighs clenching around his head as he smirked into your flesh. found it. tears began pricking your eyes as your body was assaulted with pleasure, kageyama’s fingers slamming right into your g-spot.

kageyama knew you were getting close when he felt your walls flutter around his fingers and your soft moans began growing louder as you neared your release.

with a snarl, kageyama pulled his fingers from you roughly and sat up from in between your legs. your whimper at the sudden emptiness was swallowed by him as he slammed his lips to yours hungrily.

you moaned into the kiss, tasting yourself as you felt him fumble with the tie on his joggers before pulling them down along with his boxers to free his cock.

kageyama pulled away from the kiss, greedily taking in your breathless and flushed expression before slowly pushing his length into you, groaning as he forced your walls to accommodate his girth and impressive length.

tears sprung in your eyes and fell down your soft cheeks as you cried at the stretch, mind going delirious from the pleasure as your boyfriend continued to sink into you.

kageyama leaned down to lick up your tears before roughly snapping his hips into you, sinking the rest of the way in as his pelvis settled flush against you.

you choked as he bottomed out, and your hands instinctively went to grip onto his muscular shoulders, nails digging into his flesh hard enough to leave marks.

kageyama groaned at the feeling of your walls clenching around him, and he pulled back before slamming into you, relishing the way your walls seemed to suck him back in.

“tobio!” you cried out, voice breathless and wobbly as he slammed directly into your g-spot. kageyama smirked at your already fucked out expression, and slammed his cock into you again.

nothing but the sound of skin against skin and your wanton moans filled the stuffy gym air as kageyama pounded into you.

“fuck, (y/n),” kageyama groaned, leaning back on his haunches as he pounded into your sopping cunt, holding your legs up by your knees while biting his lip, watching you lose yourself on his cock.

your soft stomach jiggled with each thrust, shirt having ridden up while you squeezed your breasts through your bra, eyes crossing from the pleasure.

“fuck! you feel too f-fucking good!” you moaned, voice stuttering from the intensity kageyama was fucking into you with. kageyama smiled down at you, cheeks flushed from the compliment. “you’re taking me so well, pretty thing.”

he hissed as you clenched around him. apparently you liked that. so he continued.

“you feel so nice and tight around me, pretty girl.” he moaned out, feeling his high begin to approach him as your soft walls fluttered around him. he let one of your legs drop as he brought a hand to your aching clit.

rubbing tight circles into your sensitive nub, he sped up his hips until you were practically sobbing from the pleasure, coming dangerously close to tipping over the edge.

kageyama groaned at the sight of your flushed cheeks shining with tears and sweat, swollen pink lips caught in your teeth as you stared up at him with furrowed brows.

“i-i’m close!” you stuttered out, body beginning to seize while you could practically taste your orgasm. kageyama wasn’t any better, his hips losing rhythm as he opted to just pounding into you with whatever he’s got left.

“go on, pretty girl.” he huffed out, lazy smile curling his lips as he continued rubbing your clit with precise circles. “make a mess on me.”

a scream ripped through your vocal cords as you spasmed on his cock, eyes clenching shut as you clamped around him so tightly kageyama became lightheaded.

with a choked moan of his own he came deep inside you, filling you up to the brim with his cum as he fell forward, stopping himself from falling onto you as he held himself up with his arms.

you both sat there for a while, desperately trying to catch your breaths as you eventually came down from your highs.

opening your eyes, you find that kageyama was already staring at you, eyes softened and face still flushed from his high. you watched as a singular bead of sweat rolled down his nose before dropping onto the corner of your mouth.

without even thinking, your tongue swiped out to lick it up, and you saw your boyfriend’s eyes harden again, and a gasp escaped you as he rutted his hips into yours, cock twitching back to life.

a devious smirk filled his face, and he raised a singular eyebrow at you in challenge.

“you don’t think we’re done, do you? we still have a lot more sets to finish.”

taglist: @lovelypasteldreams @living-for-drama @arixtsukki @month-seasoning @bakarinnie

#✨.sapphire #e.rotic #e.kageyama #reader insert #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu smut #kinktober 2020 #hq kageyama #kageyama x reader #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama tobio #kageyama x y/n #kageyama x reader smut #haikyuu x reader smut #fluff #smut #hq x reader

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watermelonlipstick · 3 years

Text

Dreams, Chapter 14

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 14

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 1976

Summary: Once more, a moment at the bar shifts the relationship between Sam and the reader irrevocably.

Warnings: angst, FLUFF, swearing, s l o w b u r n, this section has a little gentle smut

It was sweet, actually, taking things slowly enough that Sam didn’t feel an acute sense of betraying Dean. You started kissing in stolen moments like teenagers, accidentally honking the horn of the Impala before taking over from the day shift and walking in shyly with swollen lips and mussed hair, tasting the orange juice off of his lips after breakfast.

Never more than that save a fumbled glancing grope here or there, Sam sometimes having to break away for a long walk in the brisk winter air before going to sleep with you at night, you taking extended showers to deal with the building tension. He simply wasn’t ready, and the additional closeness was already so much more than you’d had anyway, almost too much stimulation to handle. Not that it really made sense to you, that this was somehow different in his mind, but it didn’t matter.

Dean came to you in your dreams with increasing regularity. He started teaching you how to go to places you hadn’t been, or hadn’t been with him, slowly reconstructing the bar and the cabin so you could show him around your new life. Sam had been right, of course, and Dean did love the bar as you showed it to him, scuffed floors and ever-present stickiness of the cash register included.

It felt pretty real. And who’s to say it wasn’t, because it was really Dean and it was really you, the whiskey really poured and made his lips taste peaty like they always had. More than that, it was enough. You were able to relish your time together, drink Dean in while you slept feeling less desperate knowing that you’d see him again soon. The days got easier too, waking up warm inside from Dean and outside from the firm protection of Sam’s body. Neither Winchester ever told you what they did or talked about in their time together, but Sam got looser and looser. You had almost forgotten how goofy he could be, how enthusiastic and fun he was Before Everything, but the longer he spent dreaming with Dean the more he reminded you of that guy—the affectionate, quick-witted boy you’d split cans of Spaghetti-o’s with at Bobby’s a lifetime ago.

Going to work felt like a little game sometimes. Periodically one of the customers would comment on the way Sam always seemed to wait until you were right in front of the fruit before going to refill it so he had to press the length of his body against yours. Often you’d have to help him finish his side work before closing up together, having hung off him all night in a way that prevented him from getting everything done until it was just the two of you together in the darkened bar cutting up limes as your shoulders brushed against each other. The regulars thought you were finally comfortable enough to show them a little PDA, that you’d been secretly like this all along, and there was no other explanation you could give them. Like everything else, you rolled with their assumptions and got that same giddy-hot feeling in your chest and throat every time they said it—like you were being teased about some juvenile crush.

The Wednesday it finally happened you were having a normal day at work, catching those little jabs after Sam snaked a bottle opener out of your back pocket while you rattled a shaker of martinis. He kissed your hair with a smirk when he passed by you, carefully not jostling your arms as you poured the drinks into chilled glassware. When you went to refill Joe’s pint of Spotted Cow, you noticed the tap start to stutter and foam the last dregs of an empty keg and raised your head to tell Sam it was out.

He was leaning on his elbow, ankles crossed where the long stretch of his body met the floor and talking to Jake, clearly telling some joke from the way Jake cracked up and gave him that snapping handshake men often exchange instead of hugs. The smile on his face was just smug enough to show he knew whatever he’d said was funny, and more than anything he looked relaxed, looked comfortable. Looked like he belonged there, the reflection off green glassed whiskey bottles making his eyes seem lit from within. You decided to change the beer yourself and leave him in peace; the bar was slow enough that he could handle it alone for a few minutes, limited cocktail experience or not.

Every time you went into the basement at work to change a keg you were amazed that Sam even fit in the room where they were stored; it was back at the end of the walk-in cooler with ceilings so low even you felt claustrophobic there. Aluminum kegs in varied states of fullness stacked by their respective lines, marked by stickers and tags of indeterminate ages, were in a sort of half-organization around the walls. Based on how fast Sam changed them when one went empty, you were pretty sure he would know instinctively which ones were which, but as it was you had to climb around the makeshift aluminum jungle gym to trace each looping hose back to its source. You finally found the empty Spotted Cow and the line that would tie it to its respective tap in the corner. To get there you’d had to hop on top of two others, one foot on a fresh Bud Light and the other on some Coors while your spine curved to avoid hitting your head on the ceiling. Unfastening the tap from the empty keg, you yanked back to tug it off and slipped on some extra moisture on top of the metal. It sent you off balance enough that you grabbed at the tubing at the end of the tap you were holding in an effort to stay on your feet.

The hose pulled out of the line system and sprayed the rest of the beer within all over the room and you, brown ale getting in your mouth and eyes and sending you careening to the ground, tugging the empty keg on top of you with a huge clatter. You rolled it off of you, thanking God it was empty, and tried not to think too hard about the age of the beer remnant mixture leeching off the cement floor into your t shirt as you got up. By the time you got back to your feet, Sam was standing in the doorway, slightly out of breath with a look of concern on his face.

“Are you okay? What happened?” he asked, surveying the scene.

You still had the keg tap and hose in your hand, completely detached from the wall. “I was going to change the Spotted Cow but I couldn’t reach the back so I had to climb and then I…slipped.” Sam’s face smoothed in relief when he saw the smile spreading across your face. “And broke it.”

“But you’re okay?”

“Probably going to have a pretty kickass bruise tomorrow and I’m covered in beer but yeah, I’m okay. Sorry I pulled it out; do you know how to fix it?”

Sam smiled, his dimples carving into his cheeks. “I’ll figure it out.”

You pouted around your embarrassment and sheepishly handed him the tap. “I should probably get back upstairs,” you offered, shaking your wet shirt away from your body.

“I’m, uh, I’m ready.” Sam murmured, rubbing the back of his neck shyly.

“Do you need me to go get tools or something?”

“No—I mean, like, ready.” He raised his eyebrows meaningfully and the emphasis crashed into you hard enough that it almost sent you careening back into the kegs.

“Ready ready?” you breathed, sounding stupid and not caring, wanting to bound over and leap into Sam’s arms.

“Ready read—” and Sam was cut off by your lips on his, taking a sharp inhale against your cheek as he kissed you. After a beat of electric shock Sam twined into the hair at the nape of your neck, his fingers hot from washing dishes and soothing in the air of the cooler. You slid down the soft flannel of his shirt and wrapped up fistfuls of it, desperate to have him closer, closer, closer, feel the firm slopes of his body when you weren’t sleeping. He groaned into you and it sent a shudder down your spine as you slipped down the edge of his jaw to kiss along the broad expanse of his neck, tendons squirming under your lips and the thrum of his blood pumping fast and hard.

Sam moved a hand to your lower back and bent down to scoop under a hamstring, gently but swiftly lifting and spinning so you were pressed up against the doorframe by his body, hitched up in the air to better reach his face. You gasped and felt Sam’s smile against your mouth, wrapping your legs around his waist and greedily roaming the muscles in his chest as they flexed to carry you. The way the wall pinned you to Sam made it so easy to rock into him, feel the metal of his belt buckle through the worn cotton of your jeans and the heat seep through his shirt into the sticky beer drying on yours. “I—oh fuck—” Sam stammered between kisses as you rolled your hips, trying to balance the need to catch his breath with the pent-up magnetism between you. “We have—Jesus Christ, ah—there are customers upstairs,” he finally spit out.

That zapped you back to reality, finally breaking away to press your forehead against his. “Fuck,” you moaned. A long second passed, sharing air between you and Sam as he held you suspended. “Do we care?” you murmured hopefully against closed eyes, smiling.

Sam chuckled, breathy and low as he lowered you to the ground softly. “Unless you have another way of paying rent.”

You gently knocked your head into Sam’s chest. “Man, couldn’t sit on that for a few more hours? How am I supposed to work the rest of the night?”

He ran his tongue over his molars as he grabbed the tap from where it had fallen to the ground, accepting the gentle teasing. “I just—I don’t know, you were just standing there and it all kind of—it just made sense all of a sudden.”

“The stale beer did it for you? If I knew that I would’ve broken all of the lines ages ago.” You bit your lip against your smile, suddenly a little bashful and exposed and feeling every drying drop of beer across your chest.

“I um, might have another t-shirt in the car if you want me to check.”

“Thanks. I can get it though, can I have the keys?”

Sam snaked a hand into his pocket and you could see the muscles in his forearm ripple as he grabbed them for you. He handed the keys over, his face open and vulnerable even with the hint of smirk. Tapping the keys against the doorframe you stalled for time, wanting more than anything to have even just an hour without responsibilities. You reached out and stroked his arm. “You’re sure about this? It’s okay if you’re—”

Sam’s head bobbed quickly. “Yeah. Yes, I’m sure.” He looked solemn, resolute in a way that reassured you. “I’m sorry it took—”

“Nothing to be sorry about. I just wanted to check.”

He closed the step between you, tucking a chunk of hair behind your ear and gazing down into your eyes. “I know. And thank you for that.” He kissed you on the forehead, grinning into your hair. “Now go change, you smell like a frat party.”

You pushed playfully against his chest and made your way upstairs, leaving him smiling at your back as you walked away.

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 15

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koutarouthighs · 4 years

Text

『 strawberries & wicker baskets 』

S U M M A R Y ― sunny afternoons call for a basket filled to the brim with fruits and other treats, your lover across the blanket, sighing as they take in the sight of you with your skin glittering under the sun.

post type ➺ headcanons fandom ➺ haikyuu!! characters ➺ kuroo ⧾ akaashi ⧾ sugawara genre➺ fluff tags/warnings ➺ established relationship ; alcohol mention ; word count ➺ 1.9k+ request ➺ [YES/NO] ↳ request status: *.·:·.✧ O P E N ✧.·:·.*

⤭ kuroo enjoys getting outside now and again because his job can be very much a shut-in, indoor-only occupation. whether he’s going from arena to arena, or spending days behind a desk answering emails, he is stuck inside much more than he’s allowed outside. ⤭ he’ll set up the entire thing with no prompting. kuroo is a big dork, after all, and he loves to surprise you with some romantic gesture, such as an intricate picnic packed safely away in a large brown, woven basket, the neck of a bottle of wine peeking out. ⤭ depending on how stressed you both are, kuroo will sometimes have it be a surprise. he’ll call your boss, get you the afternoon or weekend off of work, and manage to corral you into heading to the park or the beach or the lake with him. ⤭ kuroo is so ecstatic to get you out on the green with him that he forgets napkins and you end up having to use the checkered blanket to wipe off your fingers after tetsurou has offered to suck the strawberry sugar off your digits. ⤭ the warmth cascading down from the rays of sunlight filtering through the trees is nothing in comparison to the absolute beaming light from kuroo’s smile as he looks down at you, where you lay on the blanket. there is not a moment where you are not completely, utterly loved in the presence of kuroo tetsurou.

more below the cut ↴

your pinkies are linked as you stroll through the sand, heels dug into the beach when you find your perfect spot. kuroo is yanked by your fingers circling his wrist, eyes widening a hair as he swivels to turn and look at you, “here? this is the spot?”

you don’t even have to nod, he already knows your answer. you wouldn’t have stopped him otherwise. so he works at getting the blanket laid out perfectly so there aren’t any annoying granules of sand getting in your food or underneath your clothes. he strategically lays out your shoes, one on each corner, so the blanket won’t go flying at the first signs of blustering winds.

the beach brings serenity and clarity, both of which you disturb with loud laughter and busied hands. your giggles are interrupted by wine-drunken kisses, warm and wet and reminding you much of the ocean. the spray from the waves salts your hair and your face, but you don’t mind. not when you get to spend these careless moments with your lover.

“i’ve missed you,” he sighs, framing your cheek with a large palm, encompassing your skin with a near unbearable heat. skin flushed, you lean into his touch, lashes fluttering against the tops of your cheeks as you hum, “i’ve missed you more.”

“there you go again,” he near growls, playfully smirking up at you as he rolls his hips to pin you down, knees on either side of your body so he can hover over you, blocking the sun like the clouds in the sky. “always have to one up me, baby, can’t you ever let me win?”

you reach up to squeeze his cheeks in your grip, playing with the looser skin near the center of his face, smushing his lips together playfully. you shake your head, rolling your eyes dramatically, “if i stop challenging you, you’ll get bored of me.”

his words are garbled thanks to your pressured palms, but he manages to husk out regardless: “i’d never get bored of you.”

⤭ you are the one to set up the picnic, knowing that akaashi will spend all day and all night working on his publishing duties. sometimes it is up to you to drag him out of the work-filled abyss that blackens his days and elongates his nights. ⤭ he has dark circles under his eyes and he’s always sleeping in on the weekends when he gets a chance, so you spend the time in the morning one saturday packaging up a wonderful feast. fruits, sandwiches, champagne, all tucked away into a sweet little basket that you can barely hold up on your own. ⤭ akaashi wakes up and you’ve already got his pot of coffee put together, but you hold his cup hostage when he reaches out for it. his brow wrinkles and his eyes narrow, but all you can do is chuckle when you tell him to get ready, that the two of you are going out. ⤭ once he’s had two cups of coffee and a shower, akaashi does not hesitate to stroll down the sidewalk with you, the basket in one hand and your palms linked in the other. he’s warm, inviting, and he’s always playing with the soft skin of your hand with his thumb, calloused pad drifting back and forth. ⤭ it’s nice for him to be able to take some time away from manuscripts and plotlines, to be able to enjoy the time alone with you. he’s a people watcher, and together you make up funny stories for all of the families and couples making their way through the park. after you’ve eaten, when you’re laying back and staring up at the clouds, he’ll tuck you under his arm and point out the shapes that remind him of anything significant.

﹢

“don’t you think that one looks like an owl,” he points to a cloud to the left, drifting through the air and dissipating more with each passing second. you laugh, pressing your cheek against his collarbone as your arm winds around his waist, “you think everything looks like an owl, kei. i think you miss bokuto.”

akaashi scoffs, resting his palm back against your shoulders to anchor you to him, “all of fukurodani remind me of owls, sweetheart, not just koutarou.”

“it’s the writer in you,” you murmur, tilting your head up to kiss his jaw nearest his ear, “always making an analogy out of something.”

he leans down, narrowing the space between your faces, and runs his nose against your cheek, “you have too much faith in me, darling.” you nip at the thin skin of his jaw, hitching your knee up slightly to rest on his thigh, the thick of it rippling at the sudden movement, “that would imply i believe without seeing, keiji. i’ve seen plenty of your talents.”

even though akaashi is not one for public displays of affection, he finds in this moment alone with you in the middle of a meadow, he is insatiable. his mouth finds yours and you taste of peaches and champagne, sweet but bitter, and he falls a little more in love with you then.

“i love you too,” you whisper, reading his mind and seeping into his bones with your burning touch, eyelids flittering, unwilling to open and break apart the serenity of your kiss.

the bow of your lips meet his and he swears your handprint is seared into his heart, strings tied tightly and begging for you to play him like a fiddle.

⤭ sugawara has picnics with his kindergarteners, he likes to take them outside for lunch at least once a month, if not more frequently. you’ve brought him his lunch to school at least once or twice and caught him mid teddy bear picnic, his bento box in your hand and a grin on your lips as he helps the youngest student tuck her napkin cloth into the front of her shirt. ⤭ it gives you the idea to create a picnic scenario of your own, only instead of on the playground underneath the shade tree, it is in the comfort of your own backyard as the sun goes down. ⤭ koushi is surprised to find you rushing in from the screen door that leads to the backyard when he comes home one evening, a late night after working on a new set of curriculum. he chuckles as he toes off his work shoes and finds the more comfortable house slippers to slide his feet into. ⤭ you grab him by the hand, eager to show him your masterpiece. he’s always been so kind and understanding, so easily excited by your innocence and wonder at the world. it reminds him of the wide eyes of his students, begging to soak in every word he speaks until they are gorging with information. ⤭ the way you bob on the balls of your feet makes him chuckle, his knuckles finding yours so he can slot your fingers together to the base. he squeezes before he turns his attention to the scene you’ve set before him.

﹢

“wow, love, this is-” his voice sticks in his throat, emotion overwhelming him after a long day at work, body begging to come home to you. you pull yourself closer to him, like a tether, a kite desperately trying to keep to it’s owner.

there is a spread near the firepit, a warm blanket laid flat with a plethora of food and drinks scattered across the entirety of it. he reaches around your shoulders to tug you into his chest, nose finding the crown of your head to bury his face into you, breathing in your familiarity. he realizes for what would feel like the infinite time that he is blessed with your saccharine presence, something he swears he’ll never take for granted.

“d-do you like it?”

your voice comes timid, bashful. sugawara is quick to admonish you for your insecurities, tilting your chin up with the gentle tug of his thumb and index finger, and capturing your wavering tongue with his soft mouth.

even when he peels away, you chase him, caring predator and cunning prey. your fingers wrap around the front of his shirt, begging him closer with a quiet touch. he smiles at your enthusiasm, relishing in the moment where you forget about everything else going on in the world but him.

sugawara places another kiss to your upper lip, gently guiding you to the blanket, “i love it, darling. of course i do. i’d love anything you do.”

you know he is not lying, not by the conviction in his tone and the searching in his touch. you lower yourselves to a crossed-leg position, close enough that your knees brush, and you begin to dig into every container set before you. even though you know what is splayed out, it is still a mystery as he unlocks the tops of the tupperware containers to display the treasures inside.

“i love you, kou,” you whisper after a glass too many of wine, but the words are honest all the same, regardless of the alcohol they’re tainted with. you grin lazily up at him, palm finding his pectoral as you seek his heat, “i hope you know how much i love you.”

sugawara brushes his fingers against your forehead, pushing away the hair that obscures your vision so he can see you in all of your glory, “only if you promise to know how much i love you.”

a giggle, like a champagne bubble rising to the surface only to pop when it gets too close to the sun, breaks the seam of your lips and you tuck your head underneath his chin to hide. sugawara draws you close, circling an arm around your waist until you are molded to his side, as if there were never even two people present at all. one soul inhabiting two bodies, stitched together by time and trials alike.

“i guess,” he murmurs against your temple, pressing a warm kiss there before turning his head to watch the sunset, “that just means we’ll have to spend the rest of our lives trying to prove it.”

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lemontwst · 4 years

Text

crossing the line. ❤️ ace x m!reader

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: in which ace runs his mouth and then gets his cheeks clapped by an mc with immense big dick energy.

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: ace trappola x m!reader

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 4.2k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: non-con to dub-con, revenge/hate sex, mentions of voyeurism, public sex, enemies to lovers, mc has magical devices he definitely should not be having, grim is not present in this particular scene.

“You don’t even know about the Great Seven?—”

His malicious voice bounces around your skull like thunder, drowning out the rest of the world like you've suddenly plunged into deep, cold water.

“Are you that ignorant?"

Tranquil rage licks at your insides, your stomach twists with nausea and your hands twitch with the impulse to wrap around his neck.

“Maybe you should go back to kindergarden before thinking of coming to this school.”

Don't punch him. You dig half-moons in your palms, inhaling a deep, shaky breath. Your muscles tighten from the strain of holding yourself back, from resisting the urge to punch this idiot's face in and drag him across the boulevard by the hair. Your heart thump thump thumps against your ribcage like it wants to jump out of you. Don't punch him.

"Aww I'm sorry, did I offend you?" The redhead's features morph into an expression of cheap remorse. His hands clutch his chest like he's so heartbroken, then the joke is over and that obnoxious smirk curves his lips once more, "—just kidding. Why don't you go cry about it to your mom? You won't last long in this place if you can’t stand up for yourself.”

Your reach into your pocket and your fingers brush against one of the slips of paper Crowley gave you before you parted. Paralyzers, he called them. They look pretty useless to you — just a bunch of small, fragile talismans cut from some yellowed paper, but according to Crowley, these things can subdue weaker magical beings for a limited amount of time. The headmaster gave them to you predicting that you would end up in less than savory situations, being the only ordinary human in a school full of wizards, shapeshifters and God knows what else.

“The immobilizing effect will last for about ten minutes,” Crowley had mused as he handed you the talismans, “Do try to escape the situation before the time runs out, would you? It would reflect poorly on our beloved school if one of our students were to die, after all.”

Escape. You snort, your eyes slowly appraising the other student who is still mouthing off. This place still doesn’t know you’re not one to go down without a fight. You’d much rather cling to the monster that’s tearing you apart, digging your teeth in its flesh even as you bleed out all over the pavement than turn tail and run. The carrion on your skin is a hard enough shield, the rot that stains your soul a powerful balm that turns the sting of your wounds into repugnant adrenaline.

"...Anyways, unlike you I actually have classes to attend to," The redhead throws you one last condescending smirk before turning around and giving you a half-assed wave, "Have fun cleaning the halls, janito—"

The words catch in his throat as you stick the Paralyzer to his vulnerable back, grabbing him by the hair and throwing him not so gently behind the obnoxiously large statues and out of the open street.

The student rolls a few times across the grassy side of the road, almost crashing into the flowerbeds that fence the statues off, then he finally lands on his back, coughing and spluttering more from the shock of the sudden fall than actual pain.

He quickly tries to hoist himself up, but his arms and legs feel boneless and he falls back down, eyes wide and panicked as a jolt of electricity runs him from head to toe. He tries to get up again, but it seems like the more he struggles, the weaker he becomes. The talisman saps every ounce of his energy in a matter of seconds, leaving him unable to do anything more than lay there, eyes to the sky as he tries to catch his breath.

"What—the fuck—did you do?!" He snaps, his crimson eyes filling with hate when you slowly enter his field of vision, blocking out the sunlight and hovering over him with disinterest written all over your handsome face.

His temples throb with the strain of his thoughts traveling at supersonic speed, his head hurts like he just slammed it against a wall, and the cold look in your eyes makes his stomach twist into tight knots in what he stubbornly decides to be fear—even as his skin starts to heat up like he's been sunburnt the longer you look down at him.

"Oh, you know…" You casually put one foot on his stomach and lean in, ignoring the long, pained gasp that scratches his throat raw, "Just thought I'd teach a cockroach in my path a little lesson. I was thinking of letting you go quietly, but all your whining really got on my fucking nerves." You step off of him and he twitches and coughs, trying and failing to curl into himself for some sort of comfort.

"...Ha...so what, are you just gonna beat me up?" He says, smirking through the pain as if he's used to it. You don't doubt it—his mouth has probably gotten him in trouble plenty of times before—but simply hitting him would be so boring. You kneel between his legs, spreading them apart with ease and his smirk falls, "Hey—what are you doing, you idiot?! Get off me!" You ignore him as he tries to squirm out of your grasp.

"Since you act like a little bitch..." You take his shoes off without untying them and throw them somewhere behind you, then you unbuckle his pants and do the same thing, slightly annoyed with the way he whines and struggles—as if he has any chance of wrestling you off when his body is about as responsive as jello, "I'm going to fuck you like one."

The redhead's breath stutters and he stops moving, looking at you like you just escaped the nearest psych ward, but the sudden flash of crimson that lights up his face and the subtle way his eyes fall to your crotch before quickly focusing back on your face betray just a smudge of confused desire—he's probably seen something like this in porn and he’s relieving it in his mind.

"W-we're in public, you bastard! Are—are you insane?! Get away from—" His brain slams on the brakes and his head empties like it's hyperspace.

A shocked gasp leaves his lips when you bring your index finger to the front of his boxers, lazily drawing a circle over the growing hardness beneath. His stomach clenches, ripples of pleasure seemingly falling from where you're touching him to pool in his belly like molten lava.

His breathing picks up the pace, loud and humid in his ears as his eyes stay on your hand like you've hypnotized him, "...H-hey, s-stop that—this isn't fucking funny—"

"Says you." You hum, stopping your slow circling on his now visible erection to finger the elastic band of his boxers. The intimate touch makes his muscles clench and his head fils with air, "I find the way you're sprawled on the grass with no pants on absolutely hilarious." He makes a sound between a shriek and a gasp when your fingers grab his cock and pull it out of his underwear.

This isn't happening. He looks at his cock standing out in the open with a horrified look on his face.

It's not happening—it's a dream—the thought of other students walking the boulevard and seeing him there, behind the statue of the Queen of Hearts, his erection out and his body unable to move makes bile pool in his mouth—and his dick throb, but he doesn’t have time to consider his fucked up reaction because you suddenly blow on his glans and his entire body spasms, his head hits the grass and his eyes find the clear, blue sky once again. He briefly registers the feeling of his underwear sliding off his legs. This isn't happening.

You ignore his useless protests and start unbuttoning his shirt, tugging it off his shoulders roughly but not quite taking it off -- the contrast of his pale, heaving chest and his flushed face as he lies helpless in front of you with his dick out almost makes you forget how irritated you are with him. Almost. But just because he’s cute doesn’t mean you’re not going to make him pay for daring to talk to you like you’re a piece of garbage on the side of the road.

You envelop his hard shaft with your hand and start pumping, slowly, letting him feel the soft texture of your palm and ignoring his pleas for you to wait. With every stroke his sensitivity increases, the thought of being caught flies away as if someone just blew in his skull and the redhead can only claw at the ground and pull at the grass with jerking fingers as a sweet voice starts spilling out of him.

It's just broken gasps at first, confused, scared and excited in equal measure—and then the world loses focus and it's full blown moans, little sighs that grow in volume the more you manhandle him. His shaft and your fingers become slick with precum and the movements become easier and smoother, the tingles in his crotch fly up his spine and he has to remind himself that this is wrong to keep himself from bucking up into your hand.

Stubborn as he is, he almost succeeds in resisting you. But you know just how to break him, allowing yourself a few seconds to listen to his cute moans while you wet your fingers, saliva dripping down your wrist as you methodically suck on the appendages as if they were the hard, leaking dick in your hand.

When you decide your fingers are wet enough, you bring them down to his ass and spread his cheeks to find that tight hole no one has ever touched before.

His entire body jolts when you start circling it, the sensation completely knew and so unexpected that he momentarily comes back to reality. "Wait—not there!" He tries to raise his head but his willpower leaves him when your middle finger draws a deep semi-circle around the rim.

It feels so fucking weird, he jerks his head this and that way as he tries to focus on the hand on his cock and the finger prodding at his hole at the same time. It's tingly and intense and he doesn't want it, his hot asshole parts under your push, welcoming you in a cavern of velvet, and the gasp that leaves him is the loudest one yet.

"Relax, you little moron." You stretch him carefully, briefly wondering if he's going to come from your handjob before you even have the time to reach his prostate. He's so fucking tight, unused, pure and yet vulgar as he moans and twitches under your skilled hands.

You insert another finger in and his voice turns high-pitched, then you brush against that little button inside his ass—barely, just the ghost of a touch—and he falls off the edge, convulsing like he's been electrocuted and cumming all over himself.

His semen lands on his chest and jacket and as he slowly comes down from cloud nine, eyes glazed and drool on his chin, he briefly wonders how the fuck he's going to go back to his dorm with cum on his uniform. Then he feels you crawl on top of him and that thought too seems to dissolve into thin air.

No one can blame him for being unable to think, unable to act and, somewhere in the deepest recess of his mind, unwilling to move when you start stroking his sensitive dick again, your hair tickling his chin. He can feel how warm your body is and how nice you smell now that you're so close. If you weren't such a fucking demon it would almost feel nice.

"What's your name?" You exhale next to his ear and he shivers, feeling sick to his stomach when he realizes it's because he wants your lips on him.

"A-Ace…" He mutters, tilting his head away from you as much as he can. The white expanse of his neck is right there and you place a few slow, open-mouthed kisses on his vulnerable skin. Ace's heart does a fucking pirouette, little sparks of pleasure run down his abdomen and he lets out a soft moan, one he wishes he could stuff back in his mouth as soon as he hears it.

He feels the sudden urge to cling to you as he lets you kiss him everywhere. He wonders how it would feel to have your mouth draw a line from his collarbones to his stomach before you take his cock in your mouth and the thought alone makes his entire body tremble with need, little gasps leaving him as you lick the curve of his jaw and then blow on it.

"Ace." You growl his name against his skin and the vibration threatens to destroy the rickety dam that keeps his sanity in place. You're doing something unforgivable to him, fuck, Ace knows it and he hates you for it, but the way you say his name makes him so fucking glad to be born, glad to be lying in the grass like a slut with his pants discarded somewhere and your hand slowly stroking his cock.

"Fuck—don't say it like t-that…" He practically wheezes, squeezing his eyes shut as he focuses on the scorching waves of pleasure that pulse through his abdomen when you chuckle against his skin. This feels so fucking nice, one of his hands reaches down to grab your wrist while you continue to stroke him and he absentmindedly caresses your hand as you pump his cock.

He curses loudly as he takes in the hard curve of your knuckles and the wetness of your fingers. Your touch is different than what he's used to, rough but with a regular rhythm that pushes him closer and closer to his orgasm with every flick of your hand. You lazily nibble at his jaw and he suddenly finds himself overrun by the universally irresistible urge to come. Fuck, he's gonna come so hard in a hand that's not his own—

"S-so—sensitive—fuck, gonna cum all over your fingers—" His other hand grabs your shoulder in a way that almost feels too romantic given the situation, but Ace doesn't give a damn. The only thing that matters right now is your hand jacking him off and the trail of stars that dances behind his eyelids as you shatter his galaxy.

So close—so close—his moans become loud and shameless as he bucks up into you, ignoring how useless his body still feels because right now he really fucking needs to come again.

The muscles in his abdomen tighten, hot white pleasure flashes in front of his eyes and Ace is so fucking ready when he arches his back, but instead of feeling relief, a tidal wave of frustration and disappointment crashes into his electrified body and his loud voice trails off in a pained whine as you suddenly take your hand off his dick, denying him the sweet mercy of orgasmic bliss.

The disparity between what he’s feeling and what he expected to feel is so vast it takes him a minute to realize what happened, the dam in his head breaks and he’s left gasping and sobbing and twitching, hands flying and grasping at the grass beneath him as he struggles to catch his breath.

"—What the fuck?!" He basically screams, looking at you with teary eyes and a face that screams betrayal, "W-why did you s-stop?! I told you I was close!" His chest heaves and he looks almost possessed when his own hand reaches for his abused, throbbing cock, fully intent on finishing the job one way or another.

You stop him before his fingertips even reach the shaft, meeting no resistance when you pin his hand back against the grass.

Ace glares at you but it's feeble and pathetic, the last remains of his rejection completely snuffed out by the shock of being denied an orgasm for the first time in his life. He doesn't look proud and hateful anymore; he’s now just a brat naked from the waist down, this close to crying because he didn’t get fucked the way he wanted.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I thought you wanted me to stop? Did you change your mind, Ace?” The voice that whispered his name almost lovingly in his ears now drips with venom, almost as if you’re imitating the way he talked to you just a handful of minutes earlier.

Ace flinches, his heart sinks and he looks fucking crushed as he takes in your cold expression. You’re not going to stop, are you—? Not now that he actually wants you to touch him—?

“No...that’s not—I didn’t—” He splutters, flushing up to his ears when he realizes he doesn’t even know what he wants to say. Do you want him to beg? Because at this point Ace doesn’t really care enough to even object to that. He just wants you back on top of him. He wants to feel your warmth and have your scent fill his head while you bring him to his release again.

“Dont...be like that...come on,” He groans, letting his head fall to the ground. His dick hurts. His back hurts. Fuck, everything hurts, even his heart for some fucking reason. He doesn't like it when you look at him like you hate him. If anything he should be the one looking at you like that, not the other way around.

"Y-you want me to beg? Is that it?" Ace scoffs and weakly spreads his legs, leaving his cum-stained self complete exposed to your scrutiny. He has the decency to look embarrassed, but when his glazed eyes slowly go from your face to the tent in your pants, what you see in them is not disdain or shame, but pure, unbridled lust.

"You'll beg without me having to ask for it." Ace follows your hand as it goes to your belt, and when you unbuckle it, the soft, erotic click makes his body tremble and his heart flutter.

It's not like he wants to see it—his eyes stay on your crotch as you slowly pull your pants down, revealing the black underwear beneath.

Are you—are you going to pull it out? Out here where everyone can see?—Ace momentarily forgets that he's had his dick out in public for more than it's considered appropriate in every fucking country across the world. Every one of his thoughts comes to an abrupt halt, like he's suffered a concussion.

Except he hasn't, he's just drooling in his mouth at the thought of your cock.

"You don't get to come again, I told you you're going to be fucked like the little bitch you are." You finally pull your dick out, hissing when the air hits your feverish skin and Ace thinks he’s going to spontaneously combust.

The rush of heat that flares beneath his skin is unlike anything he’s ever felt and his slow mind has trouble comprehending whether he suddenly feels on fire because he can see your erection right in front of him or because of the sound you just made. Both. It’s probably both.

“Is that right…” He probably sounds as dazed as he feels—his breath catches in his throat when you lean down again, hovering over him but not quite touching him, the ghost of your breath on his lips threatening to turn him delirious.

You teasingly drag your wet erection across his stomach and Ace moans, his eyes falling shut when your dicks touch. He grinds up against you without thinking and suddenly his body is weightless and he's on the verge of coming all over himself. It feels like every nerve he has is experiencing its own little earthquake, the sound that leaves your lips makes his mind fall apart at the seams and the only thing he can say is a long, desperate "Fuuuck."

His eyes flutter open and he finds you smirking down at him; the sight is so surprising and so beautiful that Ace’s heart lodges straight in his throat.

"Turn around and raise your ass." You chuckle and he goes redder than his hair, but ultimately doesn't protest, waiting for you to give him some space before complying.

The sleeves of his uniform are completely ruined at his point, wet with dew and mud and grass as he pulls himself up on his elbows and gives you an expectant look from over his shoulder.

What he doesn't expect is to feel your thick fingers push into him again. He almost falls face first into the dirt as he gasps, waist shaking as he's once again wrecked by the feeling of his rim being teased.

You stretch him more insistently then before, the saliva and cum on your fingers aiding you in your preparations. You try to avoid his prostate, because Ace is already shaking like a leaf and you know how close he is to his climax, but your redhead seems to have had enough of being edged and insistently grinds back into your fingers until you touch that sweet spot inside him that makes his dick leak precum like a faucet.

He's still not used to it however, and the shock of such an intense stimulation makes his elbows give out as he falls unceremoniously on his face. But he doesn't seem to care, cheek pressed against the grass and eyes squeezed shut as he experiences having his prostate massaged for the first time.

Fuck, he’s sure his legs are going to give out soon too. If just your fingers feel this good, what’s going to happen when you stick your dick in—? Is he going to lose his mind—? Somewhere along the line he seems to have completely forgotten that he's outside in broad daylight with his ass in the air. But even if someone were to see him getting fucked like a slut, would it really be so bad—?

"Hold on tight, stupid," You take your fingers out and he whines softly, sounding surprisingly disappointed for someone who has never had their ass played with before, "I'm gonna make sure you can never come just from touching yourself ever again."

You line your hard cock against his opening and Ace shivers from both anticipation and fear. You’re so big—is—is this gonna hurt? I mean, after everything you've done to him this should be a walk in the park, right—?

It isn't.

You slowly push your dick inside and Ace's first instinct is to scream.

His mind shatters into oblivion as he takes in the feeling of your thick cock stretching him like he's a fucktoy. But this is still nothing, you haven't done anything yet and he's already broken. You pull your hips back and thrust into him hard, your dick scrapes against his prostate and Ace falls into a state of euphoric delirium.

He was made for this, he thinks. Born with the sole purpose of being your slut, ass up and legs spread as he invites you to plow him harder, to mess up his head until your cock is the only thing he can think about.

And he doesn't even know your name, Ace realizes as his body bounces back and forth against the grass with the force of your thrusts, his tongue lolls out and he tries his best to match your movements with his exhausted body, his hole squeezing your dick like it doesn't want to ever let go.

"Fuuuck—can we do this like…..every day from no—ah!—now on?!" He'll let you do anything you want if you promise to keep fucking him like he's your girlfriend. On his bed in front of his roommates, in class, on the headmaster's desk, anywhere you want him, Ace will be a good bitch for you.

In response to his nonsense you griiind into him and the explosive pleasure that flashes in front of his vision is almost seismic, devastating like nothing he's ever experienced as he breaks and cries and cums all over the grass, eyes rolling back when you roughly grab his hair and thrust a few more times before painting his insides white with your own release.

You make sure to fill him to the brim and Ace doesn't pull away. Instead he remains obediently glued to your crotch as the feeling of hot semen running down his legs completely obliterates his sanity.

Your nasty temper placated for the time being, you pull out in one swift motion and let his boneless body fall to the ground.

Ace groans and curses you under his breath, then he very slowly rolls onto his back, still dazed by the fact that you just came inside him.

If he thought everything hurt before, now he thinks he might actually need to pay a visit to the nurse's office. The effects of the Paralyzer have worn off by now but he's so fucking tired—he startles out of his drunk reverie when something like a curtain falls on his head.

Except it's not a curtain, but his pants. He takes them off his face and gives you a weak glare as you adjust your belt.

"Wear a skirt next time," You throw him a smirk over your shoulder and Ace hates the way his heart quivers, "Like a good girl."

You barely have the time to dodge the shoe that comes hurtling towards your head, Ace quickly reaching for the other shoe when you start running back towards the school building.

"Fuck you!—"

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #ace trappola #ace trappola x reader #citrus #scenario #m!reader

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