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uravichii · 1 month

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"best friends who kiss?"

character/s: bakugo katsuki

summary: recently, your best friend has been kissing you at random times. you have no idea why because he refuses to talk about it. either way, you're not about to let this to ruin your precious friendship.

genre & trope: fluff, best friends to lovers, angry confessions, reader is terrified of love but bakugo wants them so bad 😁, tw kind of ooc bakugo

a/n: i've been watching a lot of pride & prejudice and bridgerton scenes n i'm now obsessed angry confessions 🤩 + this is heavily inspired by that scene in little women :) ALSO i haven't posted in a year 😟 so pls be nice ik my writing's rusty in this :'D

the first time bakugou katsuki kissed you, he pretended he never did.

"what... " you brush your fingers against your bottom lip, your whole face hot. "what the hell was that for?"

"what?" bakugo shrugs, feigning innocence as he takes a swig of his soda.

you try and trace back the events that could have led to the kiss.

you said something along the lines of: "i wish i had a boyfriend. i could definitely pull a cute guy off the street."

then you heard him scoff and say: "no man's sane enough to put up with your insufferable ass." ーor something more insulting than that.

you can't remember what you said in response, and you rack your brain to figure out what prompted him to grab your face and kiss you. it's impossible when all you can think about is the unexpected supple feel of his lips, its faint ghost still lingering on yours.

"that kiss, katsuki! you violated my mouth!"

"dunno what you're talking about. you hit your head or something?"

you blink and second-guess yourself for a second.

"okay, no. you're not gonna gaslight your way out of this." you swat his arm, earning an irked glare from him. "why the hell did you kiss me?"

"you're imagining things, idiot. this stupid game's givin' ya some serious brain damage for sure."

he stands up and swings his bag over his shoulder.

"where are you going? we're not done yetー!"

and he's out of the door.

was he drunk off his soda? maybe he kissed you to mess with your head. he's not that cruel though, you think. maybe he couldn't think of any other way to shut you upー that was something he always struggled with after all.

at least the second time bakugo katsuki kissed you, he was kind enough to warn you.

after enduring the most awkward hour-long study session with him, you decide to put an end to your agony by wrapping it up. you start gathering your things when he stops you with a calloused hand on your wrist.

"what?" you turn to him, your cheeks already heating up from his touch.

there are no thoughts you could read behind those vermillion eyes, and all of a sudden, you don't know your best friend very well anymore.

he walks some tentative steps closer to you until the back of your knees hit the table. he cradles your jaw with such delicacy you didn't even know he was capable of. he slips past your awaiting lips and presses his nose on the side of your head, his warm breath kissing your flushed skin.

"punch me in the face and scram if you don't want this, got it?"

you gulp and forget to answer if not for the gentle squeeze on your wrist. "y/n, you got it?"

"s-sure."

when you two kiss, it's different from last time. it's unhurried, curious, and so intoxicating. the kiss speaks: 'i want you. i want you. i want you' but whose thoughts are these?

he groans into your lips as if to urge you to keep up with the sheer hungriness that has consumed him. you try your best to do so as he deepens the kiss with a palm on the back of your head and practically drinks you in. he doesn't pull away until he hears the tiny whine that escapes you.

"shit, sorry." he mutters, avoiding your stunned gaze.

"t's okay."

"did i hurt you?" the quiet lilt of his voice surprises you.

"no, no. i'm okay, but why'd you kiー"

"bye." he blurts out as he turns to the door and leaves, as if he didn't just invaded your mouth and permanently tainted the years of friendship you two have had. you click your tongue as the heat subsides in your cheeks.

"son of a bitch."

the third time bakugo katsuki kissed you, you let him, and he didn't stop.

you had barely escaped death when you lost your footing while sparring with todoroki. naturally, bakugo yelled the poor guy's ear off and would have murdered him if eraserhead hadn't interfered at the last second.

now, you find yourself heaving in your bed. you don't know whether your hastened pulse is from the adrenaline rush or from the fact that bakugo is all over you right now.

he's planting feather-light kisses all over youー your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, your eyelids, your hands, and your wrist, as panicked murmurs spill out of him in between kisses. 'you scared the hell out of me. you have no idea, fuck. are you okay? are you really okay? tell me you're okay, y/n.'

"i'm okayー" you barely manage to gasp before he dips his lips into yours, desperate and frantic. tremulous hands find solace in your hips as he holds you, gentle enough not to mar your injuries but snug enough to assure his restless heart that you are safe.

your head feels hazy. your limbs ache and lie motionless, and though your lips could barely move to reciprocate his kisses as much as you wanted to, bakugo didn't stop. you tried to ask him about it the next morning, but of course, he ignored you and walked away.

you don't know when he stopped kissing you that night. all you know is that there was a line that was crossed, and your friendship was never going to be the same again.

bakugo katsuki is going to kiss you again. your heart thrums incessantly. whether it's dread or anticipationー you don't know.

you think about the sensation of his lips that's become so familiar to you that you've learned to crave it. it shouldn't be familiar to you, and you sure as hell shouldn't want it. so you do what you think is necessary.

you kick him in the shin.

"motherfー!" sure enough, he's pissed. "what the hell is wrong with you?!"

"what the hell is wrong with you?!"

"i was going toー"

"no! you're not gonna kiss me again and walk away and pretend it never happened. you're messing with my head, katsuki! it's not funny!"

"wasn't trying to be funny!" he barks back.

"okay, so what exactly are you trying to do? what is this? i meanー" you stammer, struggling to find the words. "katsuki, what are we?"

he sighs and shifts his stance, his discomfort apparent. when the silence lingers on for too long, you speak.

"well, whatever it is that you want from me, we're going to stay friends. nothing more, nothing less. that's it." your breath hitches, and you don't know why you feel like crying as you speak. "... so i don't want your stinky mouth anywhere on me again."

silence weighs heavily between you. sometimes you wish you didn't know him too well, then the hurt he veils in his eyes wouldn't be so plain and vivid to you, and you would have walked away by now without an ounce of remorse.

"i like you, y/n." is all he could say when he finally speaks.

you shake your head. "no, you're just confused."

"i'm not confused. i like you."

"katsuki, you've been bitchless all your life, and i'm just the closest thing to a s/o. maybe go take a walk or something."

"i like you." he persists. "i've liked your stupid ass forー"

"stop saying that. you don't."

"i do, and you like me tooー"

"what?!" you laugh incredulously.

'who does this dumbass think he is?' is he right? surely, he's not. then what are you so afraid of in the first place? why have you been counting down the days until he kisses you again? why do you yearn for his touch as if it's something you own? why do you feel so infuriated and so tormented when he leaves the room after kissing you?

you do what is necessary again.

"you're delusional!" you yell at his face, a childish shrill that's awfully familiar to your childhood best friend.

"jesus christ." he inhales sharply in frustration. "you're a fucking pussy, y/n."

you clench your jaw and match his glare. anger surges in your chest and bleeds into your voice.

"i'm not the one who chickens out after kissing their best friend! you can't even acknowledge the fact that you kissed me because you'reー!"

"do you think i want to chicken out? why do you think i run away after kissing you?! if i stayed and confessed all this shit the first time, you would've refused to hear it like the damn coward you are!" he leans close to you, his voice lowering into a ragged snarl that quickens your pulse. "and you're just proving it right now, y/n. you're always going to shut this down and deny your feelings because you're a fucking pussy. you're terrified of relationships, and it's dumbest shit ever. pathetic, really."

you rear back from his words. if anything, you always thought it was katsuki who was afraid of love. now, you can't help but feel small and vulnerable underneath his searing gaze.

"it's not dumb..." you shuffle uncomfortably. "what, i'm supposed to ruin our friendship for a relationship that we're going to break off anyway?"

"we're not going to break it off."

"how do you know that?"

"because i'll be the best goddamn boyfriend in the world!"

"first of all, gross." you scoff. "second of all, it's never gonna work out! you're going to get sick of me in three days max."

"i've known you since we were brats, and i still want you."

"you literally said no man's sane enough to put up with my obnoxious ass."

he smirks. "i said 'insufferable ass'."

"katsuki!" you fight the urge to strangle him and punch that stupid smile off his face.

"wasn't even serious that time." he grimaces and reluctantly continues. "you know damn well you can pull any guy you want, and he'd be the luckiest bastard on earth."

if it were any other day, you'd grin at him and say 'i told you so,' but your lips remain unmoved, and your eyes stay dim. you're afraid you'll never go back to being the same katsuki and y/n again.

"this is pointless, katsuki. i mean, look! we're already fighting." you grouch and tell yourself you don't want this. "i still don't want us to happen so while this friendship is still salvable, let's agree to stay friends, and whatever sappy shit you feel for meー suck it up."

in one swift motion, he closes the distance between you, his face hovering dangerously over yours.

"suck it up?" he breathes, his face taut in frustration. "restraining myself from you is the hardest shit i've ever had to do. it takes everything in me not to kiss your stupid face!"

he shudders, weakly resting his forehead against yours as if this conversation alone has exhausted him. still, he goes on.

"and everytime i failedー everytime i kissed those lips, it was... a moment of weakness, but that's the fucking problemー you're just..." he buries his face into the crook of your neck, a desperate attempt to escape your wide-eyed gaze. "i'm weak for you, y/n. every second. and it drives me fucking insane that you keep running away from me."

he rises to meet your eyes again. the cadence of his voice changes into something weak and desperate, stripped of all the pride and anger he's ever known.

"i love youー fuck. i love you." he lets the words hang in the air, letting the words hear itself spoken because for once, you're not stopping him. "i love you, so please... let me."

after much thought and another agonizing minute of silence, you lean in to kiss bakugo katsuki.

he kisses back almost instantly and revels in the way you wrap your arms around his neck and bear your weight on him completely. he kisses back ardently, his pent-up desires and years of longing etched in the way he seeks your lips, kiss after kiss after kiss.

when you finally pull away, you're met with a devilish smirk, his begging eyes long gone. you wonder to yourself when you'll see those eyes again.

"took ya long enough." he kisses you again. he raises a brow at the way you're caging him in your arms. "jesus, no one's gonna snatch me from you."

"i'm making sure you don't run away again, dumbass."

"i won't." he says earnestly as he props his forehead against yours. "and you won't either. i'll make sure of that."

you nod your head with a giddy smile as he pecks your lips again.

"so..." you say as you exaggerate a pensive look, a cheeky grin spreading across your face. "we're best friends who occasionally kiss?"

he rolls his eyes. "you're impossible."

"recite that speech again, and i'll consider calling you my boyfriend."

"fuck off!"

TAGLIST [1/2] @uxavity @joy-the-reader @kiiraes @escapenightmare @afk-dreaminq @avocamich @theboredvee @wonderwrench @ur-local-simp @p-ol @x0xuglyh0tgrl2005xoxo @cosmonettica @melin-oe @mitzi127 @lilac-o @r2katsu @bakucumsackslut @idunnomynamesince2005 @astralwaifu @taurus852 @creepyproxies @maycat-19-142 @stella-fleurets @veenxys @devilgirlcrybabiey @drawingaddict @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @lexiv-web @angelshimaa @izukus-gf @christiansdior @homosexualjohnwayne @uwiuwi @hirugummies @cupidines @loveisningning (bold couldn't be tagged)

#bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x you #bakugo x you #bnha x reader #bnha x you #mha x reader #mha x you #bakugo katsuki drabbles #bakugo drabbles #bnha drabbles #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bakugo fluff #bakugo katsuki fluff #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons

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quimichi · 3 months

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↳ ❝ [YOU WAKE HIM UP WITH NONSENSE] ¡! ❞ pt.2

warnings: Pet names idk some might cringe at that, bad writing, Ace affectionately calling you bitch, some maybe turn out ooc - i just suck at a few characters-my apologies

summary: You wake him up in the middle of the night talking complete nonsense

characters: Twst boys x F!Reader

word count: 4.246

a/n: THIS IDEA WAS NOT FROM ME, unfortunately i can't find the creator so if you remember tag them! My writing wasn't as good as theirs tho

Riddle

Riddle's slumber is disturbed by the sound of his name. He doesn't answer right away, opening his eyes slowly and blinking a few times before he realizes his surroundings. "My rose?..." he asks, voice tired and hoarse.

He sits up, looking over at you. He sees you, and his expression softens. "Are you not able to sleep?..." "Remeber when i was walking my whale in the mountains, and i met two talking closets offering me a discount on money?" Clearly you make no sense, after all this was planned. You have to stiffle your laugh and giggles but you manage to stay serious nonetheless. Riddle blinks a few times as he tries to process what you're saying, his sleepy brain refusing to comprehend the words.

As his thoughts clear, his eyebrows frown as he attempts to make any sense of you talking about closets. Or discounts on money.

He blinks a third time to clear his vision. The expression on his face is pure gold, priceless. He looks adorable with his mouth agape. Riddle blinks a few more times. His eyes flicker as he attempts to discern your words, but he is too sleepy to put together the pieces.

"You walked a whale?" he finally manages. "Talking closets? Discount? Mountains??" He lets himself drop backwards onto the bed again and left out a sigh. "Mhm! Talking closets in the mountains" you softly laugh as you kiss his cheek and lay down beside him. Riddles cheeks heat up lightly, and he cannot help but blush.

"You can tell me all about it once its the right time..." and before you could even answer, he's out again....

Trey

The sound of your voice stirs him from sleep, and his eyes flutter open. Trey blinks a few times, the softest smile still gracing his features. He blinks again and again, finally fully comprehending the situation. His eyes widen as his lips part.

"Ah...yes?" he whispers, rubbing his eyes to rid himself of lingering sleepiness.

"I forgot to tell you that yesterday I was out with my mixer and we saw a duck on the runway having metal teeth." You can tell that the story has stumped him for a few seconds. He blinks, seemingly trying to process what you just said.

Though he knows the words make sense separately, all together they're a rather peculiar combination. He tilts his head, his brow furrowing.

"That's...a bit strange, no? Was it a normal duck aside from its odd teeth?" "Yeah!" His mouth quirks up. You can see a glimmer of amusement flit across his features as he chuckles. "A duck with metal teeth it was then, cool i guess." he says as he tries to form a picture of it in his mind. The concept of an otherwise-normal duck sporting metal teeth would definitely be a curious sight.

He lets out a soft snicker, clearly entertained by the absurd image. "Now," he yawns, "c'mere and sleep with me now, kay?" he mumbles tiredly and pulls you closer by your hips, pressing you against his body.

Cater

Cater's eyes open slowly, as if he was only half asleep. When he sees you, his eyes widen a bit and he tries to focus. His expression is soft and a bit hazy, but he seems to recognize you immediately. When he sees you, you notice a wave of tender affection flood his body as you hear him take in a deep breath before he lets out a quiet sigh. "Whatisitbaby..." he slurrs his words together.

"I baked a broom for you and decorated it with car keys for your happy easter celebration on Christmas!" Cater blinks a few times, before he slowly lifts his head and blinks slowly. He seems a bit confused about your statement, how can someone not. He is too drowsy to respond just yet, so he merely smiles goofly at you gently and lets out a small yawn. His eyelids slowly start to close again, but he seems very content to just sit here with you.

Cater seems to be drifting off sitting, so you decide to let him return to sleep. His breathing grows heavier the moment his back hits the bed again, but you can still see his chest rise and fall softly as his body adjusts to a deeper slumber.

His face rests against your chest, but before he can fully fall back asleep again he slurrs a few words for you. "Youcantellmeallaboutitinthemornin'kaykaybaby?"

"Kay Kay, baby" you softly laugh and kiss his forehead.

Ace

Ace’s breathing pauses for a moment as he remains partially asleep. His eyelids flutter and his eyes remain closed, but he responds nonetheless. "Fuck off Juice...lemme sleep..."

"....bro youre in my room no blueberry juice here-" you deadpan. Ace raises his head, mouth open with a bit of droll running out. He blinks slowly, left eye earlier than the right, and looks drowsy at you. "Right....what's the matter babe?" He drops his head face down in the pillow again after he used all his energy to answer you. "So, yesterday when i wanted to visit the moon i accident took the wrong worm and we ended in the bushes where shoes grow." Ace laughs softly into the pillow and shakes his head at the absurdity of it all. “Ah, yes…I remember. Cool story babe.......now lemme sleep"

Before you can even react Ace wraps his arms cautiously around you and pulls beside him as he lays on his stomach. "You're one crazy bitch...fuck, i love you." He mumbles into the pillow again, before turning to face you and pull you closer into his chest. Ace lovingly kissed your forhead before stroking your hair and slowly falling asleep again.

Deuce

A quiet moan escapes Deuce’s lips, and he begins to stir. He opens his eyes and sits up— you can see that he is still half-asleep, blinking slowly and lazily at the ceiling. “Wha-...ar...are you hurt or somethin'?” he says in a gentle, hoarse whisper.

Your gentle touch on his shoulder has woken him from his rest, and yet he doesn't seem annoyed by it; quite the opposite, in fact.

"No, no I'm not hurt. But i just saw a flying console screaming for pudding outside our shower." "Pudding?" Deuce repeats the word curiously, blinking as he wipes his nose and sniffs tiredly. Your tone seems to suggest that he should find the word familiar, but the foest year seems genuinely clueless as to what you're talking about. He gives you a baffled expression, but you can tell that he's still not quite himself.

If there are any flying consoles out there, they aren't his concern. "Pudding... flying consoles..." he mumbles. "Baby, you want some pudding...?" He ask tiredly, looking over at clock on the wall, luckly the moonlight lets him see the time. "At..." he squint his eyes, "8 am?"...3 am but you don't want to burst his bubble just yet.

"I can wait till 8 am, no biggie" you say, smiling at how concerned but also confused he is. Although hes tired he still tries to be a good boyfriend for you. "M'kay...g'night..."...out like a light.

Leona

"Hmm" Leona groans. His hands trail up and down beside him lookung for your body to pull you closer against his body. But he didn't found you, instead you were sitting up. "Herbivore,...c'mere already."

He's still slightly groggy from sleep. Its common knowledge, waking Leona Kingscholar up is an unofficial crime. And now you even left his arms, the audacity. Good thing hes way to tired at 2am.

"I was looking for my teapot but instead found a dancing glass of ice tea waiting at the traffic light to turn into a tulip." "Ah... what?" Leona murmurs, slowly shifting upward. His gaze is still half-lidded by sleep; his eyes have yet to come back into focus.

He blinks at you a couple of times, before finally rubbing his eyes and frowning. Leona looks somewhat annoyed. "What nonsense are you saying?" He blinks some more, his voice still rough with sleepiness. "I...I love you come back and sleep." And since you didn't immediately react to him he growls back a, "Now."

Ruggie

Ruggie stirs at your voice, ears laying flat and lazy against his head. He opens his eyes slowly and looks at you with half lidded, sleepy eyes. "Mmm...is it morning already?" he asks quietly. "No." You smile gently at him and kiss his cheek. He smiles dopey and falls back against the pillows. "But...when I tried to read the picture about the story of the bear who went jogging in the clouds, i got confused."

Ruggie is just as confused. But smiles slightly as he props himself up in bed. He rubs his eyes, his expression one of amusement layered with tiredness.

"Ya know..., you really need to stop askin' me to help you with your homework,” he mumbles. "Huh?" "...Huh?" "....oh-" "yeah?..." Ruggie didn't know what he said, neither did he knows what he actually understood. And neither did you. You both just blink at each other looking confused, before he drops down into the pillows again and holds his arms out for you. "Come back and cuddle...ya silly little minx"

Jack

His ears twitch at the sound of your voice, and his eyes dart open in a sharp flutter. Blinking away the lingering sleep from his eyes, the world comes into focus.

When he realizes that its only you in front of him, he relaxes. "Are you not feeling well?" He's definitely not wide awake but isn't half asleep either. He quickly sits up too and puts his hand on your cheek, caressing your skin with his thumb as he looks at you worried. That would make you melt under normal circumstances, but you had other plans this night. "I was attacked by a wild blueberry and it wanted to read my eyelashes off my nails."

Jack blinks. His thumb stops moving as he is processing your words slowly. "... You're... you're..." He trails off at the nonsensicality of the sentence. The words don't register, and he looks at you with confusion. His brow furrows.

"What?"

You can't help but giggle. "Alright...time for you to get some sleep, hm?" Jack sounds exhausting, from being sleepy and from you. He stroke your cheek lovingly one last time, before you cave in and lay back into bed. "Good girl...", sudden tiredness came over Jack and he lays back beside you, pulling you against his chest.

Azul

The voice breaks him from his slumber. He flinches in surprise, waking from a deep sleep. His lavender eyes shoot open. They look at you with a certain amount of fright — until they register your face, in the darkness of your bedroom.

"Pearl?" His voice is a whisper— husky with sleep, but soft all the same. "If a snail flys into a tree, does it turn pink or will it eat chips?" You immediately hit him with your nonsense, no mercy. Azul stares at you in utter confusion. His face is one of uncertainty, and a touch of amusement as he tries to make sense of your question.

He settles on a response, but is not entirely confident in its truth. "I do not know, Pearl." He murmurs. "But what i know is that you should be asleep." You know he's right, but you also just wanted to have some fun. Azul gently pulls you back against his chest. He smiles at you warmly as he wraps your body in his arms.

He presses his lips to the top of your head. His hands come up to your hair, fingers threading through yours and gently stroking you, brushing them down your back to soothe your weary bones. "We can...discuss this tomorrow..." You just nod, snuggling up to him. Teasing him didn't work, but at least you got his affection.

Jade

Jade always sleeps lightly, so the tiny call of his name immediately wakes him. "Hmmm…" his voice is barely above a whisper as he wakes. He reaches out for you, his movements gentle, his eyes searching in the darkness for your body. "Mm...Guppy?"

"Do teeth grown on walls when they are covered in amnesia?"

The question catches Jade by surprise, his brow furrowed as he contemplates your words. He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again, his brow now a full-on frown as he tries to formulate an answer.

"No?" he says slowly, voice sounding like a question rather than an assertion. He furrows his brow even further, brows meeting in the middle of his forehead. "...You know...there are situations where i feel like Floyd rubbed off on you..." he says. "Ey-!" Jade lets out a tired chuckle before pulling you back against his chest again. "My little guppy...so dumb sometimes, hm?"

Floyd

His pale eyes snap open as soon as he recognizes your voice. "Shrimpyyy," he whines quietly, his voice quivering in his surprise from being pulled from his slumber. "Why'd wake meee?" he mumbles and pulls you closer and tighter against his body, at this point youre used to it. "Do ghosts twerk when you play them ladders and earth?"

As odd a question as it was (Floyd is too), he doesn't even flinch. Instead, he takes a moment to process it before nodding, his lips curling into a smile as he answers, "Of course! Everyone knows ghosts like to twerk." Floyd just starts to giggle in delight, wiggling you around happily, "Aww shrimpy i love you! You're so silly!" He gave you one last kiss on your head before his smile drops, "But we gotta sleep now, so you better behave and don't wake me up again." Though he is still a little unsteady from being woken up so suddenly, his strength still remains in his embrace. From the way he holds you, you can feel how much he loves you. He wants you close. He wants to keep you with him. Forever even.

Kalim

His brows furrow as his eyes continue to stay shut. But your voice was enough to rouse him.

"Hmm?" his lips part, but his voice is still hoarse with sleep, and he doesn't open his eyes yet. Before he can open them or even get remotely more awake, you attack him immediately. "How do i know if a bunny catches a goldfish in a storm of wandering suns?" His brows furrow even further as his head shifts toward your direction. That question did nothing to make any kind of sense to him.

"H-Huh?" he asks warily, his eyes slowly opening just as his brows are un-furrowing. "I- Um." He looks around, his thoughts scattered.

"Lemme ask Jamil real quick...Ja-!" "No-!" Befode he can wake up the poor exhausted second year who just got into bed, you shut Kalim with your hand against his mouth. "Shhh-" He keeps mumbling against your hand, before he choses to gently kiss the inside of your hand. "Tschul...pwease led me go" "Huh?" You raise your hand, "I said, Jewel, please let me go-!" Kalims arms wrap around you in an instant. He buries his face into your shoulder, seeking the warmth of your arms. All of the tension in his body seems to ease at once, replaced by the comfort that he feels when he is in your presence.

He nuzzles his head into your shoulder, the touch being all that he needs for him to be at peace. "Ahhh, I'm wide awake now..."

Jamil

His head tilts a little as the sound of your voice reaches his ears. His head turns in your direction. His breathing is shallow and steady, his eyes closed.

"Mm? What now?..." "Do dogs cry rainbows when they breath daisies on a sunday bell?" There's a moment of silence as your question registers in Jamils mind. The wheels are turning, and you can tell he's processing it.

Finally, he answers, "No, my love. Dogs cannot cry rainbows when they breathe daisies on a Sunday bell....now good night." "Oh-" you were taken aback by how fast and serious he answers. Probably used to it from Kalim. It takes him a moment to realize he should explain his answer. "Dogs are not... capable of...crying rainbows and certainly not when they breathe daisies on a Sunday bell. The latter is...quite nonsensical, actually." A hint of a smile tugs at his mouth, but the expression does not fully reach his lips, "As expected from you "

He waits, allowing a moment to pass to see if you have a response. "Good night Jamil...." "Good night."

Vil

(Bro would honestly kill you but---lets forget about that now-)

His eyes flutter open as he removes his sleeping mask.They blink slowly, fighting off the haze of sleep. And then, they fix on you.

"Yes?" He whispers. Vil is scared you might be in pain, or a different problem flared up. But instead you hit him with this nonsense.

"If a goose loves an ogre, do they drink pebbles in the moonlight?" His mind reels from this seemingly nonsensical question. His body is tense as a whip, his heart pounding in his chest. This feels like a trap, but his mind scrambles to find a response.

He opens his mouth, then stops. He tilts his head, then opens his mouth once more, stopping. He blinks, staring at you.

Then, his lips curl to a smile. "Yes they do," he affirms with complete certainty. "They drink pebbles in the moonlight. And you know what else they do?" "No?" God bless your innocence in this moment, "They never wake up one another when they have their beauty sleep and don't ask them stupid questions." "Oh-..."

Rook

The sound of your voice, however small and soft, stirs Rook from his "slumber". Rook is never truly asleep, a good hunter never rests. He cracks open his eyes, and his lips form a smile and part to form a word.

"Yes?" he excitingly says, though the word, meant hushed and quite, was more loud than expected. "Yesterday I saw a sheep kissing a well and singing it a waterfall because it couldn’t catch a pizza." Without missing a beat he answers, "What a marvelous story mon ange! Did you come up with it yourself?" You nod proudly, not using one braincell to come up with words in the first place is and accomplishment! "Oh, mon ange, would you tell me more about this loving relationship between this talented sheep and its well-lover?"

Rook responds by wrapping his arms tightly around you. He presses his body close to yours, his fingers kneading at you. His touch is gentle but firm. Time seems to slow down as you two press even closer against one another, and you come up with more nonsense to entertain him. The world fades away to oblivion as thoughts of every day concerns slip away and you two embrace the warm bliss of that moment.

Rook doesn't say anything. He only smiles with pure adoration at you and listens to every single word. He just holds you, his every atom focused on being near you. Like always.

Epel

"Epel, Epel, Epel, Epel, Ep-" said guy blinks a few times in an effort to fully awaken as he hears you call his name multiple times. He squints his eyes as he adjusts to the full moon lighting of his bedroom.

He blinks again, rubbing the weariness out of his eyes. "Yeah?" he mumbles softly, his voice still sluggish with sleep. "I just saw an owl wearing a hoddie and stealing a womans wig while the sky was skittles." Epel blinks a few times, trying to process the words you just conveyed. He opens his eyes wider and shakes his head.

"Sounds like you had one wild dream," he whispers as gently as possible, "But at least it wasn't a nightmare so...ya should probably go back to sleep now." Epel's voice is a murmur as he slowly leans down to kiss the top of your head. His cheek brushes against your hair as he nuzzles into the softness, and he takes a deep breath.

His gaze lingers on your face, studying your features as he pulls back slowly. "I'll watch over you so you won't have any strange dreams..."

Idia

The sound of your voice cracks through his mind, jolting him to attention. Idia jolts up from sleep, startled. The sight of you makes his heart skip a beat.

He blinks his eyes open, staring back at you for a moment as he reorients himself. His breathing is quick and shallow, but he steadies himself. "Is-Is something wrong?!" He sounds genuinely scared and worried for you, you almost feel bad about what you're gonna do. "Horses eat frames so they can fly faster to the basement of the Texas curtains."

"Cool" Idia says softly, and his eyes squint. He tilts his head, clearly not tracking your train of thought. His body is tense, his mind dense, on edge as he attempts to make sense of what you just said. "Babe...explain," Idia says, his voice a near whisper. He narrows his eyes, concentrating on your words.

His lips purse for a moment, and he shakes his head slightly. "Can't make sense...might call Ortho..."

Malleus

His chest freezes with a sharp inhale, and he opens his eyes. His heart pounds in his throat, a nervous flutter. "Yes!? Love? I'm here," he says, his voice hoarse from a few hours of undisturbed slumber.

He blinks a few times, rubbing his eyes as he looks up to you, sitting in bed. He wants to speak, but the words can't leave because you beat him to it.

"2 birds were fighting over a brush because it tastes like fries on a Tuesday afternoon." His eyes narrow as he tries to process what you just said. "Tastes...like... fries? on a... Tuesday?"

Confusion clouds his expression, and he cocks his head slightly to the side. Your lack of response only cements his uncertainty. Was that a question? A question you expect him to answer, or was it a joke?

His frown deepens and he clears his throat, "The old man once told me abouta thing called Hoocus Poocus (my stupid idea of google)" he says slowly, raising from bed and groaning like and old man with back problems before he walks over to his phone on his desk. "Maybe this can help...my love?...Do you recall how I alive this device?"

Lilia

The snore halts, the sudden outburst of sound startling him out of his sleep. He wakes up like a mother, with a loud gasp. His eyes shoot open as he bolts upright, and he stares straight at you with an anxious expression on his face. "Has the time finally come?" "W-What time?" "Where i may or may not have left a cake in the oven and it caught fire." He says it with such ease...like he did leave a cake in the oven to burn down the entire dorm.

"No-!....I just wanted to know if you can cactus me a cucumber." He stares at you blankly. Your request takes a few seconds before registering in his mind. A brief flicker of concern crosses his face, but it is fleeting as he realizes you are being facetious. Oh, how much he loves your stupid ass.

He lets out a small laugh. "I'll cactus you a cucumber tomorrow, dearest."

Silver

He is so used on your voice that even in his slumber, your words reach his core. When you call out to him, his breathing grows shallow and his eyelids begin to flutter a bit. His lips twitch again, and he turns his head slightly.

"Ahh...whatisit..." "I slept on a dentist with a horn and he fixed my hair with his light switch." Silver's eyes snap open at your words. You've caught him off-guard yet again. He stares at you for a long moment before he finally speaks.

"You slept...on a dentist..?" He's still half-asleep, his voice quiet and hoarse. "Princess, did you cheat on me?" A quiet, breathy laugh escapes his lips for a split second. Your words are nonsense, and he knows it.

He swallows down another laugh, biting his tongue in an attempt to stifle it as he sees your horrified face. "Shut up..." you mumble, why does no teasing ever work with him?

Sebek

"I'M AWAKE AND READY-!," Sebek is startled awake, sitting up quickly. His eyes open with an instant, and he glances around, his gaze settling on you. "HUMAN? YOU AWOKE ME BECAUSE SAVANACLAW FINALLY ATTACKED DIASOMNIA TO KIDNAPP LORD MALLEUS, RIGHT?!"

"......no but, a egg just gave birth to a basball and now his golf wife is mad."

Sebek blinks for a moment, his brain trying to comprehend your bizarre statement. His face twists, you can't tell if its anger or regret. Regret for ever letting himself catch feelings for you. You never heard him being so silent, cause even in his sleep hes loud...he snores.

"...Human?" "Yes?" "I will escort you back to ramshackle so you can spend the rest of the night in your dorm."

"Nooo-!" "Yes-ah-ey-let go of me-!" He gasps at the sudden embrace, and he stiffens as a flood of emotions rush through his heart. His arms hang loosely at his sides as he is swept into your warm embrace. There is no resisting it. No matter how much he trys, he will always love you no matter what.

He feels like he's going to melt.

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tryslora · 2 months

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On Writing Combat and Sex Scenes

Today I want to talk about writing sex and combat (and no, I do not mean combative sex). This post is inspired by a few recent events:

Once, a long time ago, I read a blog post that said “if you can write a combat scene, you can write a sex scene” and that was mind-blowing for me because while I was well-versed in writing erotica, I couldn’t write combat to save my life.

More recently, at Boskone, I participated on a panel about writing combat, and the research involved there-in.

Even more recently, I had someone look at me say, “You’re not a gay guy. How do you write gay sex scenes?”

So. Let’s begin.

I get it—sex and combat aren’t interchangeable. But at their core, they have some strong similarities which can be leveraged while writing. Both are intense, high drama, and can involve a lot of anxiety and quick thought. Both tend to narrow focus down to the moment and the current feeling and action. Both are heightened emotion and physical reaction. Both can involve actions that lie outside the author’s personal experience.

I started writing erotica when I was a freshman in college. I posted it online (does anyone remember rec.arts.erotica?) and was surprised (and pleased) by the compliments I received. Turned out my readers were not expecting the idea of emotion being entangled in their erotica. They were invested emotionally in how the stories went, and how my characters felt. Since I was writing from the point of view that made sense to me at the time, they were het stories from a female perspective, and they were very focused on the emotional connections and how the physical events heightened those emotions.

Male readers were surprised by the intensity of the feelings that these stories gave them (as opposed to pure arousal). It got me thinking about how I wrote, and why I wrote, and I tried to talk about it some at the time. I was eighteen. I was still a new writer. The internet itself was new. I wasn’t entirely certain how to frame it, but I remember getting one comment where a guy was surprised at how struck he’d been by the moment in the scene where everything shuddered to a halt due to an event in the story that interrupted the action, and I replied that that was because I wasn’t writing about the sex. I was writing about the character’s reaction to the sex.

Which has always been how I write. At the time, that was my only tool: put myself in the character’s mind, and write what they feel. If that’s affection and attraction and physical reaction, write that. Tangle it up, and hope the reader feels that entanglement.

Now, fast forward several years, and take a little side trip onto a tangent wherein I learned something very important about writing craft.

I was reading Syne Mitchell’s End in Fire, I think it was, and I kept having panic attacks. Now, I did most of my reading late, often when I woke in the middle of the night due to stress, or just because my brain refused to rest. I was in a rough place in life in general, with a lot of external work stuff going on and very small children. I wasn’t sleeping well. And it took me some time to figure out why I was struggling to read a book which I actually loved (and when I read it later in life, I enjoyed it greatly).

It was the sentence structure.

In order to induce the emotion of the scene, the sentences were short. Sharp. Quick. There was no time for the reader to breathe, much like there was no time for the heroine to do anything but act. The reader was caught up in the rising tension, to the point where my anxious, sleep-deprived brain, caught a panic attack from it.

The technique was brilliant.

Now back to our original timeline, wherein I read a post about how if you can write combat, you can write sex scenes. This post assumed that more people felt comfortable writing violence than sex. I was the reverse. I’d been writing about sex for over a decade when I saw this post, and it made a light bulb go off in my brain.

If writing sex was like writing combat… was the reverse also true? Could I improve my skills at writing battles by analyzing what worked when I wrote erotica?

So I tried doing just that. Back then, I found combat overwhelming. There was so much going on, and I was trying so hard to write good description that I lost all of the intensity. I was focusing on everything that was going on at the same time.

Thinking about how sex scenes were all intense emotion and narrowed focus, I applied that to my combat scenes. I wrote only what the point of view character experienced, and tied everything to their actions and reactions. I thought about how they breathed, how they moved, how they thought. I used those short, sharp sentences as they processed the scene.

That doesn’t mean I forgot about everything else going on in the scene. That’s impossible. After all, in any story the things the character doesn’t pay attention to might be as important as the things they do focus on. Stuff still happens, and there is still fallout. I needed to know what else was happening so that if the character moved from one place to another, or did something that put them in the path of a different part of the action, I could have them start processing it.

But it also meant that on the page, out of sight was out of mind. Everything narrowed down to the now. The immediacy. Suddenly my combat scenes snapped into focus.

During the panel at Boskone, all of the panelists had experience with different fighting styles (fencing, street combat, and of course, me with taekwondo). I spoke about how for me, that narrow focus is very real when I spar. I know there are some people who naturally see a move or two ahead while fighting; I don’t. I am stuck in act and react mode. Can I kick them now? Can I attempt a head shot? Oh, no, circle back and away or they’re going to hit me… that’s how my brain works during a sparring match.

It’s not like a total blackout—there should be a vague awareness of things around the character. Sounds in particular, or sometimes flashes of movement. Something distracting can catch the attention of the fighter, but the personal fight will always pull the character back.

Combat feels easy when I’m writing like that.

Of course, there’s still the question of writing about something if I’ve never experienced it. As someone did point out to me: I am not a gay man, so how does that affect writing sex scenes? I’ve also never fought with a sword. Brawled. Fought from horseback. I have, however, held a blade, shot a gun, shot an arrow, rode a horse. I have a vague idea of how these things work, much like I have a working knowledge of sex in general.

So yes, research gets involved. Sometimes research is observational, sometimes it’s reading (there’s so much good stuff out there). I highly recommend video for combat scenes—find things that have the feel that you’re going for, then put yourself in the place of the character you want to write about. Practice. Work through the ideas of how things fit together, and what your character will (and will not!) know during the fight.

If you need to, stand up and block the scene by thinking about how you would experience it. What can you see, and what is out of sight? If someone is coming at you with a blade, what are your options? How do height differences affect you? Yes, I have asked friends and husband to help me block scenes.

“Stand right there and show me what it looks like if you punch me. Okay, so if I do this then…” Yeah. It’s a thing. But it works.

When doing your research, remember that movie fighting (and hell, movie sex scenes) isn’t realistic. It’s meant to look good. For combat, if you can find re-enactments, or sparring videos, I highly recommend taking a look at those.

Anyway, the point is: I don’t have to have shot someone, and I don’t have to have had gay sex in order to write about them. What I do need to know is how it feels emotionally to do those things, and I can extrapolate that from what I do know. I need to know enough about the details so I can get it right, and that’s where research will help me. Also, use language to create emotion. Because emotions are where we grab the reader, and how we pull them into the scene.

Combat and sex aren’t so different when it comes to writing, and the personal experience. Now, go forth and write!

#writing #writing resources #writing sex #writing combat

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cordeliawhohung · 4 months

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HIIIII I love your Mafia!Price Drabble and headcannons I was wondering if you have any ideas that involve Mr. John Price proposing to his gal or even mentioning having a wee baby :3

hi! thank you so much! i hope i'm understanding your ask correctly in that this is mafia!price you're wanting, so that's what i'm going to write on but if you were wanting captain price instead let me know and i can do another bit <3 i have too many thoughts in this pea sized brain anyway lmao also i decided to give you both the proposal and baby talk <3 (but the baby talk gets smutty cuz i'm feral)

warnings: fem!reader, mafia!price, head cannons mixed with drabbles, fluff and nsfw content, smut, mentions of pregnancy, mentions canon typical violence, hope i didn't miss anything (:

you can find more mafia!price in my masterlist <3

Proposing

The thing about Mr. John Price, is that he can get you anything in the world. He's sent you to lavish destinations for holidays, gotten you gifts that seem too expensive for a simple boyfriend to want to gift their partner; there wasn't a rock in the world he would refuse to move for you. So when he decided he wanted to make you his, to make his sweet girlfriend his wife, he finds himself stumped as to what to do in order to really make it stand out from everything else he's already done.

First, there's the ring. He had actually managed to obtain your ring size a few months into seeing one another. A dazzling necklace in a local jewelry store had managed to catch your attention, and he insisted that you go inside to check it out for yourself. While you were there, a ring that you claimed to be similar to your grandmothers had caught your attention, and the jeweler had taken it out for you to look at. You tried to put it on your middle finger, only for it to be too small, so you moved it over to the ring finger instead. It was beautiful, and in a style you kept gushing about. John snuck a glance at the tag, reading and memorizing the size and storing the information in the back of his mind. In the meantime, he bought you the necklace, of course. He ended up going to the same store in order to purchase the ring he wanted to propose to you with.

Then there's the location. Every idea that popped into his head didn't feel right. He was worried about trying too hard, about it feeling unnatural if he planned every single detail out, and yet feared that if he didn't plan enough it wouldn't be special enough. He was always a detail oriented man, and yet he felt as if he would drown in them.

So he lugged the ring around with him for months. Always hidden in his pocket, just out of sight, and yet he could feel it weighing heavier and heavier every day. His worry is something that you can pick up on. You feel it when you rub his shoulders in his office and attempt to melt away the knots in his muscles with your thumbs, you see it in the way he rubs his chin and stares off into space during meals.

John has always been honest with you, and so he made you very much aware of what he does for work before even attempting to pursue a relationship with you. And though he refuses to tell you any specifics in an attempt to keep you safe, you hear some of his men whispering about issues settling disputes with another syndicate. Fearing his stress comes from work, you insist on getting him out of the house. Though he suggests eating at the Greek place you enjoy in the city, or even spending the evening drinking away at one of his clubs (which is just a place for him to hide his tax fraud and money laundering "business"), you insist that you just want to go for a walk. And well, who is he to say no?

Darkness settled over the beach by the time you and John set foot on the shore, but the lights of the city emitted a golden glow that illuminated your face and had you looking as beautiful as ever. Salty water threatened to kiss your feet as you strolled along, and you felt John squeeze your hand while the two of you talked about anything that came to mind.

It was a sand dollar shell that caught your attention. A beautiful, round, and unbroken specimen that you nearly walked right over in the dim light. Fingers slipping out of John's hand, you stopped and bent down to pick it up, ogling over how pristine it was. You held it out, the item small in the palm of your hands as you pointed out each arm on the fossil.

Though you were enamored by the shell, John could only look at you. The way your eyes lit up, how you couldn't help but smile as you told him everything you knew about it, how you always seemed to find joy in even the smallest things. You were radiant, the only light he had in his life. Always smiling, always so kind to him despite how dirty his hands were from work. He didn't have a choice anymore, about being a bad man, but he had a choice when it came to you.

When you pulled away from him to wash the sand dollar off in the water, John found himself falling onto one knee. It was as if he wasn't in control of himself, like his body was telling him the time was right. Cold, damp sand seeped through the fabric of his pants, but he ignored it as he reached into his pocket and pulled out that small, velvet box that had been haunting his clothes for months. Despite all the bad things he had done in his life, he never found himself as nervous as he was in that moment.

Once you were certain all the sand had been washed off of your new possession, you turned around only to drop it to the ground in shock. John Price, the man who headed the most dangerous and effective mafia in the country, the man who always took care of you, who always stood tall and bowed to no one, was on one knee in front of you. The question in his eyes and stance was obvious, and yet you found your hand reaching up to cover your mouth.

"John?" you spoke, as if you were unsure of what he was doing.

He always promised himself he would never make you cry. Would never be the one to cause you any anguish or pain. So when he saw the tears starting to swell in your eyes, he couldn't ignore the way his stomach twisted.

"My whole life I've had whatever I've asked for given to me," he said, thumb brushing over the top of the box, "but I've never wanted something as badly as I want you."

His fingers gently flipped the top of the box open, revealing the dazzling ring you had looked at all that time ago; the one you told him reminded you of your grandmothers ring. A part of you couldn't believe he even remembered that moment, something that had seemed so insignificant at the time.

"I want to cherish you," John continued, "to care for you, to love you. To make you mine. Will you marry me?"

Your answer tumbled out of your mouth faster than you intended it to, nearly cutting the man off before he could fully get the question out.

"Yes!" you nearly sob, your own knees digging into the sand as you throw your arms around your now fiance's neck.

He wraps his arms around you in return, and his chuckle is low and rumbling and deliciously familiar in the way it vibrates through your chest. You can't wait to be able to feel that every single day for the rest of your life.

Baby Talk

Coming from a family born of violence, John was always a little scared to have children, but oh, did he crave being a father. More than that, he craved making you a mother.

But there were these worries that loomed over his head, terrified of dragging his children into the same life he was forced to live. So whenever he did mention children, he only ever sounded half serious.

"This room would make a nice nursery someday." "Maybe we could take our kids here someday, if we have some."

But you saw the look in his eyes. How his gaze lingered on a father playing football with his son in the park, how he chuckled at a young girl lecturing her father about something. Yet he never seriously sat down and talked about kids with you.

So you were the one who ended up really bringing the conversation up. Though, you didn't fully dive into it. Just simple little comments here and there. Ones that were more serious and promising than his own.

"John, look at these! Aren't they just adorable? I can't wait to dress our kids up in stuff like this." "Do you think we'll need a baby monitor? Might be a good idea if we set up a nursery, huh?" "Oh, I love this color. Do you think this would look good on the walls in the nursery?"

Half the time you spoke as if you already had kids or were pregnant, and your words left John's mind spinning. Torn between worry and want, his mind went back and forth between telling himself he shouldn't have kids, and giving into the desire to make you a mother.

And you certainly didn't make it easy on him:

John's cock always knew how to reach the deepest parts of you that turned your brain into nothing but mush. Legs thrown over his arms, he thrusted into you with such force he drew breathless moans from your mouth. His lips brushed against the side of your neck, breath hot and heavy against your skin as he grunted in effort.

Your hands pawed at his back, fingers digging into the rich muscle that covered his shoulder blades and neck. Sweat beaded in the dip of your throat just from the sheer intensity of it all; that burning feeling in your stomach, the tense muscles that shivered all throughout your body, and especially the words he grunted into your skin.

"So goddamn beautiful. Just can't get enough of you," he said, punctuating every word or so with a sharp snap of his hips that left you mewling.

When he was on the brink of his orgasm you could feel the neediness of his thrusts - the strained breaths against your ear - and you felt your cunt clench around him at the thought of him finishing inside of you. Before you knew it, your hands carefully danced across his skin until your palms enveloped his cheeks. You gently moved his head away from your neck, forcing him to look at you as he continued to push himself closer to the edge.

"I wanna give you a baby," you said breathlessly.

Never before had you seen your husband freeze so suddenly. His movements ceased as he buried himself so deep inside of you, you swore he was nudging against your cervix. The sensation ripped a tight moan out of your throat, but it didn't stop you from expressing your wants.

"Please, John, I want it so bad. Wanna be a mum so bad, wanna have your kid," you said, nearly begging. As you continued, you pulled him down until you were close enough to kiss him between words. "Please, let me do this for you, baby, I- fuck!"

John's thrusts continued with little warning, and they were just as passionate as they had been before, if not more. His lips silenced you as he smothered you with a kiss, and he ate up your moans like it was the only sustenance he would ever need.

"Yeah? Fuck darling, you don't know what you do to me," he muttered, voice strained with effort.

As he continued to pound into you, the sounds of skin on skin filling the room, all John could think about was you. You with a swollen stomach and breasts. He could imagine your giggle when you first feel your child kick, or laying in bed together rubbing your back when it ached too much. The thought of it all had him moving with a new sense of vigor, hellbent on filling you until there was no doubt at all that he'd make you a mother.

After all, whenever his wife wanted something, he would move heaven and earth to give it to her.

so i have a confession to make - in this previous mafia!price piece i wrote, i really wanted to put in wife!reader begging price to let her have his kid to thank him for all he does for her, but i wasn't sure if that was too feral so i left it out. but then i put it in here instead and, well yeah. anyway i hope you all have an amazing day, and merry christmas if you celebrate! <3

#captain price x reader #price x reader #cod smut #captain price smut #john price smut

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tanuki-voice · 1 year

Text

Obsessed with the idea of becoming a feedee hucow.

Dating someone with sinister intentions, they plump me up meal after meal, making me bigger. But then also at the same time, they're trying to make me dumber as well. Thinking for me so I don't have to, giving me a life where I don't have to do anything, I get to sit back, relax, and let them pamper me. They might even give me a bit of weed to get me high, make me dull and docile.

With this perfect environment, and all the feedings, they start putting emphasis on me being theirs, being their pet. They squish me after a big meal, show how they have control of my new, bigger assets. It feels so good, but instead of moaning, they ask me to moo for them instead. I oblige them, and they reward me for every time I do it. My mind feels so empty. There's nothing but being their fat little cow.

From now on, they start training me, rewarding me for little pavlovian actions designed to restructure my brain; eating a huge surplus of calories, using as little words as possible, mooing, letting them pretend to milk my chest, however they feel. But it's all too nice to refuse. It's too perfect to resist. As I keep getting fatter and more docile, I enjoy it all more and more.

I can just imagine myself, in their bed, 200+ pounds heavier and still growing, brain empty, in some adorable little cow print lingerie outfit they've bought me. I might even produce milk. So cute. So dumb. So perfect. No thoughts, only the compulsion to obey, and to be their fat little cow.

#queer feedee #feeding kink #feedee writing #feed me #feedism fic #wg fic #fat hucow

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storiesforallfandoms · 2 years

Text

on your knees ~ thomas shelby;peaky blinders

word count: 2563

request?: yes!

“hi! i was wondering if i could request a tommy x reader? where reader and tommy have obvious and undeniable attraction to each other, but she refuses to be with him/kiss him unless he explicitly gets on his knees and beg her too but since tommy’s pride makes him refuse, she uses flirting with his brother john to help change his mind.”

description: when he tries to make her jealous, she decides to return the favor with the help of his brother

pairing: thomas shelby x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (oral, f receiving)

masterlist (one, two)

His eyes were on me. I could feel them, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing how annoyed this was making me. That’d just be letting him win, and I was not about to let Thomas Shelby of all people win.

It was the worst kept secret in all of Birmingham that Tommy and I were in love with one another. To be fair, neither of us exactly kept it a secret from anyone, much less each other.

Early on in our partnership, Tommy brought me into his office and told me he had feelings for me. One would think I would be over the moon to learn that considering I had feelings for him too, but I knew Tommy wasn’t telling me this for our mutual pleasure. He told me because he wanted to arrange for us to be married, or at least for me to be his fuck toy while he explored other options that would be more “favorable” for the business.

Most other women in Birmingham would’ve jumped at the offer, but not me. I was too proud for that. I had some self respect. If Tommy wanted to be with me, he would have to honestly tell me he wanted to be with me. He’d have to get on his knees and beg for me.

But Tommy was also too proud, and thus we were stuck at an impasse.

This impasse included one of us trying to get the other to cave. On this specific night, Tommy was using the new barmaid to try and make me jealous.

And, oh, was it ever working.

Grace was all over Tommy, her face bright from the wide smile as they talked to one of Tommy’s business partners. Tommy, on the other hand, was giving me his full attention. I wasn’t sure if Grace had noticed this yet or not, or if she had I wasn’t sure if she really cared. She was the one on Tommy’s arm, not me.

I leaned against the bar and ordered myself a strong drink. I wasn’t going to get through this night sober.

“Whoa, take it easy, (Y/N). The night is young.”

I looked over at John after downing my drink. He had a playful smile on his face and his tone was light.

I liked John. He was different than his brothers. He had a heart that he actually wore on his sleeve instead of hiding it in fear of being “weak”.

I smiled back at him. “I know, but I want to be smashed before the night ends. So much so that I won’t remember in the morning.”

John gave me a sympathetic look. “Does it have anything to do with Tommy bringing Grace as his date tonight?”

In response, I ordered myself another drink. John chuckled and ordered one for himself.

We spent a long while at the bar, ordering drink after drink and just talking. I didn’t realize how much the alcohol was hitting me until I tried to stand and ended up stumbling into John’s arms.

“Shit,” I slurred. “Sorry.”

“I think you need some water,” John said.

I smiled up at him before looking over my shoulder. I had forgotten all about Tommy until I saw the enraged look on his face. I didn’t understand what he could’ve possibly been upset about, until I felt John’s hands on me, placing me upright again.

An idea popped into my intoxicated brain and I turned to look at John, a smirk on my face. I put a hand on John’s arms and looked up at him through my eyelashes.

“You’re so kind, John,” I told him. “You’ve always been so nice to me. You treat me like a person.”

“Everyone treats you like a person, (Y/N).”

“Not everyone. Some treat me different because I’m a woman. I appreciate you treating me like an equal.”

I leaned against him, using my intoxication to my benefit. If John ever brought this up in the future, I’d tell him I was too drunk to remember. I liked the friendship John and I had built, so I didn’t want to fuck it up by making him think I was really trying to flirt with him. Or to have him think I was just using him to get back at Tommy for trying to make me jealous.

Which, I guess that was what I was doing, but at least I actually cared for John. There was no way Tommy had any feelings for Grace, so him using her was much worse than me using John.

I think.

John put a hand on my waist to steady me again. I could see in his face that he was confused by the way I was coming on to him, but he wasn’t pushing me away just yet. If he was uncomfortable, I’d stop. I wasn’t going to push his boundaries. But so far, it didn’t seem like I had reached the boundaries, so I kept going.

“You’re so sweet and so handsome,” I continued, running my hand through his short hair. “Not all men are so lucky to be the full package like you. Your wife was very lucky to have a man like you.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that,” he said. “You’re not too bad yourself. Obviously you’re a stunner, but you are also a great person, even if you don’t show that side of you too often. Tommy’s a fool for not falling to his knees in front of you and begging you to be his.”

I grinned and took a sip of the water the bartender had brought for me. “I know. You’re much smarter than Tommy in that regard.” I leaned into his ear to whisper, “I’m sure if you were in his shoes, you’d be on your knees for me the moment I asked. Wouldn’t you?”

John tensed and I worried I had gone too far. I pulled away to see he had a blank look on his face, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at something behind me. When I turned around, I saw Tommy making his way through the crowd toward us.

“Shit,” I muttered. I didn’t expect him to make a scene with his own brother over all of this.

“(Y/N),” Tommy said once he reached us. “I have to talk to you.”

I made a gesture with my hand as I took another sip of my water. “Go on then. Talk.”

“In private.”

I looked at John over my shoulder. We shared a knowing look before John turned back to the bar and ordered himself another drink. He winked at me, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips before he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

No hard feelings, I thought to myself. John really is a great guy.

I was brought from my thoughts as Tommy grabbed my arm and started pulling me through the crowd. I tried to tug out of his grasp, but he just tightened his grip on me. I could see tinge of red on his ears and cheeks from anger. I was partially delighted to find out I had gotten this reaction from him, but I was also partially worried about what his reaction was about to be.

He kicked open the door to a nearby bathroom and, after checking that it was completely empty, closed it and locked it behind him. When he turned to face me, I could still see the anger in his eyes.

“What are you playing at here?” he asked.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I responded with an innocent shrug. “I was just trying to have a good time. You’re the one who demanded to speak with me and dragged me away.”

“You were all over John.”

I shrugged again. “Maybe I was. What’s the problem with that? You had Grace all over you.”

“That’s different.”

“How so, Tommy?” I challenged. “You brought a date here tonight, one who clearly is enjoying the attention you’re giving her. Or rather, the attention you’re supposed to be giving her. I came alone. If I want to leave here with whoever my heart desires, that is none of your business.”

“It is my business when it’s my own brother. He is off limits, (Y/N).”

“You don’t get to dictate who I flirt with, Tommy. You’re not my boyfriend or my husband. You’re just my friend, remember?”

Tommy opened his mouth to say something else, but then just sighed and turned away from me. I could see he was frustrated, and I was too. He was getting upset with me for doing the same thing he had been doing with Grace. The same thing he had been doing to me for so long. It wasn’t my fault that he wasn’t willing to put his ego aside to give me what I had been asking for since the beginning.

“How long does this continue to go on?” he asked, finally turning back to look at me. “How long until we finally let all of this go and just be with one another?”

I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow at him. “You know what I want before that happens, Tommy. I’ve made myself very clear from the start what you have to do in order to make me yours.”

He groaned. “God, (Y/N), why can’t you just make this simple - ”

“Because, Tommy, I want some proof that you’re asking me to be yours because you seriously want me that way,” I cut him off. “The first time you ever told me how you felt for me, the way you worded it was all business, Tom. It’s always all business with you. You told me you wanted to ‘make an arrangement’ with me given our feelings for one another. Do you know how degrading that is to hear? That, even though you have romantic feelings for me and you know I feel the same way for you, the only way you view me is as another arrangement for you.”

When he was silent, I continued, “That’s not what I want, Tommy. I don’t want ‘arrangements’, I want to be with you. I want to be your lover, I want to be your only lover. I want to be your wife eventually. But I want that because you want it, not because it’s another business arrangement you’ve come up with.”

The silence hung thick in the air. I was starting to feel a bit too sober and was longing to go back to the bar for another drink before leaving this shitty party and going home. I didn’t want to be in Tommy’s company anymore.

He ran a hand through his hair. “You’re right. What I said to you back then wasn’t right.”

This confession surprised me. Thomas Shelby rarely admitted when he was wrong. Of course, Thomas Shelby never believed he was ever wrong.

"But it wasn’t just about the business,” he admitted. “I wasn’t trying to make arrangements because I thought it would be best for my public image. I was trying to do it because I thought that if I didn’t make some arrangement, you wouldn’t want to stay in my life once you see what it’s really like to be a Peaky wife. Being a member of the Peaky Blinders is one thing, but being the wife of one is a whole other.”

“I think I could handle it.”

“I’m sure you could.”

Then, Tommy took me by surprise again and got down on his knees in front of me. For a moment, I thought he was going to ask me to marry him, until I realized he was giving me exactly what I wanted: him on his knees, begging for me.

“Give me a chance, (Y/N),” he said. “Be my girlfriend, and eventually my wife. I promise, I’ll do whatever you want.”

I couldn’t help but smirk down at Tommy. “I like the look of you on your knees.”

He mirrored my expression. “Yeah? I could get used to this view of you as well.”

He put his hands on my hips and slowly backed me to the wall behind me. Once my back was pressed against it, he reached under my dress and put my leg over his shoulder, hiking my dress up around my thighs. I was already breathless when he lowered his head to my core, pressing his lips against the thin clothing that stood in the way of what he really wanted. I let out a gasp but quickly covered my mouth, remembering there was a room full of people on the other side of the door.

Tommy made quick work of literally ripping my panties off, leaving me completely bare in front of him. I shivered as the cold air touched my naked skin, the cold shiver immediately turning to one of pleasure as I felt Tommy’s tongue against me once again.

I had heard the whisperings from the women in town who had been with Tommy intimately. I had heard many stories about what he was like as a lover. I had fantasized about being with him numerous times, but I never could’ve imagined how gentle he truly was. Each stroke of his tongue was long and gentle, almost agonizingly so. He was taking his time with me, making sure I felt every jolt of pleasure that ran through my body when his tongue connected to my clit.

My hands grabbed at his hair, tugging on it in pleasure as my head rested against the wall behind me. I bit my lip to keep from moaning too loudly, but even then it was hard to keep myself quiet. I had never felt so good before, and this was just from Tommy’s tongue. I couldn’t imagine what he could do with his...other appendages.

“S-Shit,” I breathed. “T-Tommy, I’m c-close already.”

He hummed in response, sending another jolt running through me. My eyes rolled back into my head as I felt my orgasm hit me quick and hard. I put a hand over my mouth to muffle the loud moans that I couldn’t control. My body was trembling as Tommy continued to lap up my juices, riding me through my orgasm. I could barley stand right when he finally put my leg back on the ground and stood up himself.

His chin was glistening from me and it was enough to turn me on again.

He grabbed a nearby towel and wiped his mouth and chin before walking over to me. I looked up into those captivating blue eyes before I felt his lips on mine. I leaned into him, still trying to find my balance, as he wrapped his arms around me and held on to me.

“Take me back to your place,” I whispered against his lips. “We should finish what we started here.”

His grinned at me and took my hand. Tommy pulled me along through the crowded room once again. He ignored anyone who tried to speak to him, waving a dismissive hand every so often. As we got closer to the door, I happened to notice a familiar blonde looking at us in horror and hurt.

I shot Grace a triumphant smirk before the door to the party closed behind us.

6K notes · View notes

seventeenpins · 10 days

Text

knock him down a peg

pairing: QZ!Joel x F!Reader x Tess

word count: 4.4k

summary: A follow up to Never Pegged You For A Quitter. After a raid gone wrong, Joel's been acting out. Cue an attitude adjustment. Inspired by this ask! 🩷

content/warnings: threesome, pussy eating, anal fingering, Tess is 'daddy', sub!Joel, fucking with a strap-on, reader is injured, Tess is protective af about reader, Joel nuts a frankly concerning amount, references to fisting, Tess slaps Joel

a/n: uhhhh i've been working on this for MONTHS but i think it's finally ready?? shoutout to my co-writer @ozarkthedog without whom this wouldn't exist -- thank you for letting me scream about all of my horny Tess thoughts, helping me organise my brain, giving me about a million good ideas, and encouraging me the whole way thru, and to @sp00kymulderr for giving me the fic title (did you know you did that?? you did. thank you!!)

The three of you had been planning for weeks; maps spread out across the kitchen table. Packs filled with ammo and food and product. It was an immaculate plan, every variable accounted for.

It still went tits up.

Just that morning, FEDRA had changed patrol routes altogether, so your route out wasn't clear anymore. It was no matter, you'd figured. You could head south, through the old high rises, and hook around.

That's when you discovered why FEDRA changed their routes.

Swarms of infected like you'd never seen them had flooded the buildings, hissing and flailing and scrambling towards you. Tess nearly got bit. And then once you made your drop and collected your payment, you had to go back through again.

Tess and Joel had taken the rear, and you'd gone ahead, ending up face-to-face with a slimy FEDRA lackey who took all of the cards you had on you, half your new product, and still put you in lockup for three days.

All in all, bad.

Arguably better, though, than the noose.

Tess had been waiting for you when you got out and scanned over you as you limped your way out. Your shoulder had been dislocated, but she'd reset it as soon as you were let outside, cussing out the disinterested agents who were watching you, telling you to breathe deep and setting it on two when she made you count to three.

Now, you’re home, sat across from Tess, hissing as she dabbed iodine on the oozing cut beneath your eye. There was a gash on your abdomen that was just shallow enough to avoid the need for stitches. Small miracles. You watched her scan over you, head-to-toe, as if you were hiding some extra life-threatening wound that neither of you knew about yet. Her concern was firm and fierce; never sweet words, but warm hands and a careful touch.

Joel, however, wasn't handling things well. He was pacing back and forth, dangerously quiet. He wore a mean scowl, and his eyes were nearly black with fury. You could see all of his tells; the clench of his jaw, the flash of his eyes, the way his fingers twitched nervously and he refused to make eye contact with you.

The more he paced, the more Tess tensed till suddenly she snapped.

"Sit the fuck down, Joel. You're not helping, pacing like that," she scolded. He practically growled in response.

"It was fuckin' reckless," he spat, "Shouldn't've let her go ahead."

"Her?" you scoff, "We all decided I should go ahead. Someone's gotta do it, and I'm as much a part of this as you are."

He glowered.

"You think you're some kinda savior?” Your shoulder smarts, and the more Joel talks, the more you want to smack him. “Gotta protect me, is that it?"

“You’re more important here,” he argues, punctuating his point by jabbing his finger towards you, “Plottin’ out the routes, trackin’ product, inventory-”

“Joel-” Tess interrupts, “You know as well as I do that she’s been doing this just as long as we have. You wanna know why you weren’t the one going ahead?”

The guard dog reels, as if he didn’t know his place and his role were calculated. As if it weren’t something Tess would ensure.

“You’re talkin’ bout reckless? You’re the one getting reckless, Joel,” Tess hisses.

“It shouldn’ta gone like that-”

“Shit’s gonna go bad, sometimes. But we’re all here. We’re all okay.”

Joel huffs a sigh. “We nearly weren’t.”

Tess ignores him. “And you think being a martyr, putting yourself in danger ahead of us is gonna help us in the long run?”

“If I’d been up front-”

“If you’d been up front, right now we’d be cleaning your oozing face. Maybe you’d have some broken ribs, too.”

“But-”

“Nah. Shut the fuck up, Miller.”

Joel scoffs, nostrils flaring. Shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

The eye roll–that’s the final nail in the coffin.

Tess glowers. “You’d better fix your fuckin’ attitude, Joel, or I’ll fix it for you.”

He grinds his jaw, glaring at you both in turn.

But then Tess sees it; the way he’s starting to get hard in his jeans. You see it too, and you start to notice other things; the flush of his cheeks, his pupils dilated, blown black.

“Oh-,” Tess smirks and turns to you, “Look at that, baby. Looks like he wants a little attitude adjustment.”

You expect him to fire back, make some quip, talk some shit. Instead, he looks ahead. He avoids making eye contact with either of you. A deer in headlights.

“C’mon, Joel.” Tess soothes, stepping forward to rub small circles on his hips, holding and settling him with a surprisingly gentle touch. "Instead of letting you be a stubborn jackass, maybe we oughta fuck some good sense into you.”

Joel doesn’t groan, he just lets out a breath. You do groan.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how to be good for us,” she taunts.

You’ve been on the receiving end of Tess’s mean streak before and it’s embarrassing how immediately it excites you. Whenever you think about it, your stomach flips and you have to actively restrain yourself from rubbing your thighs together. Her voice was then as it is now–gleeful and mocking. She made sure you learned your lesson- you fucked up, so now I gotta teach you how to act right.

The last time you’d seen her like that, the night had ended with your ass on fire, covered in raised handprints. Painful indents of bite marks bruised beautifully up along the insides of your thighs, and you’d come so many times you nearly passed out. These days when you touch yourself, you’re thinking of that; how Tess must’ve been wrist deep, fucking her whole fist into you as she opened her mouth, tongue ready and waiting, grinning when your release splashes her face and drips down her chin, telling you, “Now that’s better, baby.”

Now, fully back in the moment, you’re looking at her and you can see the fire in her eyes. Tess grabs you by the collar, kissing you hard. It’s a dizzying few moments as she licks into your mouth, tongue hot and sweet. You love how she tastes.

When she pulls away, you’re breathless and she’s smirking.

“Take a seat, honey,” she tells you, and pushes you back. You stumble and land in the armchair behind you. Then she turns to Joel. “You,” she fixes him with a stern glare, “No touching. Behave.”

She exits the room. You and Joel are left in silence.

You don’t know exactly what Tess has in mind, but you’ve got a pretty good idea.

Joel watches you, wordless. You can feel the energy, the urgency vibrating out from him, but he says nothing. Barely moves. Tess has him trained well.

You unbutton your jeans and lower your zipper. Shimmy them down your hips, past the swell of your ass, and kick them off.

There’s a sharp intake of breath, and you know Joel’s just noticed you’re not wearing any underwear. You recline back, letting your legs spread. Letting him see every part of you.

The wound on your abdomen is hot, a burning pulse. Your shoulder aches. Your jaw stings. You’re pretty sure your face is a swollen, puffy mess, especially where the gash beneath your eye still weeps, and there are bruises in the shape of handprints all down your arms.

You need to feel good. Not broken or disregarded, and certainly not made to feel inadequate. You’d gotten your ass handed to you. Now, you need to indulge in some of your more hedonistic pleasures. And, you want to torture Joel, just a little.

Hoping Joel’s watching, but refusing to look up to see, you start to trace along your body. Your fingertips brush your lips first, trailing down your chin, your throat, your collarbone. It’s grounding. Assessing. You need to know what will make you feel good and what will cause you pain.

Slowly, you follow down your shirt, taking a moment to pinch your nipples, tracing a path along your belly, and then to the thatch of curls between your thighs.

You hear a restrained breath, and now you know Joel’s watching. You cup your mound, feel your own heat in your hand. You don’t want to go too far, don’t want to really start before Tess is back, but there’s no harm in warming yourself up.

A few minutes later, as you’re stroking your cunt, feeling yourself start to drip, she walks back in.

What a fucking sight to behold. Her own shirt is unbuttoned, harness secured at her waist and thighs, the firm silicone cock hanging heavy between her legs. She’s beautiful, breasts unconstrained by any bra, nipples hard, and legs so toned. She looks at you, your naked self, and her scowl softens.

She turns to Joel. “Now, that’s a good girl, huh? Look at that.”

Joel says nothing, just grunts a vague noise of affirmation.

Tess raises a brow. “Really, Joel?” she admonishes, “You had plenty to say earlier.”

He’s grinding his jaw, has been grinding his jaw for a while. You start to gingerly pull the shirt you’re wearing off and over your head, and Tess leans down to help, taking care to avoid your fucked up shoulder, all your cuts and bruises.

“This is what’s gonna happen,” she tells Joel, “I’m gonna fuck our girl, and you’re gonna watch. If you’re good, then we’ll fuck you, too. Got it?”

Joel grumbles an affirmation, but Tess is sick of his avoidance. She rounds on him, closing the space between them in only a few steps, and slaps him hard on the cheek.

“-The fuck, Tess.” Joel growls, and he’s mad now, “Goddammi-”

She smacks him again. “This isn’t a negotiation, Joel. You can leave if you want,” her eyes glance down to where his cock strains painfully against the fly of his jeans, “But I’m guessing you want to stay here and play with us.”

Finally, Joel looks at her. Directly at her. It’s like staring at the sun.

“Yes,” he admits, “I want to be here.”

“Good boy.”

Now, her attention turns on you. “How’re you feeling, baby?” she asks.

“Better every minute,” you grin up at her, fingers lazily swirling around your clit as you let yourself feel.

“Let me see,” she commands, and you let her spread your legs, opening your thighs wide as she examines your glistening cunt. She nearly gasps when she takes a look. “Oh, baby,” she praises, “Look at you-”, and it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

It feels so vulnerable, having Tess on her knees in front of you, looking at you bare. She breathes in deeply, groaning as her nostrils fill with the smell of you. The vulgar eroticism sends another surge of arousal through you and you’re almost embarrassed at how much it makes you drip.

Gently, she presses an exploratory middle finger against your opening and hisses out a breath when she slips in easily.

She turns her wrist, twisting the digit, letting you feel the width of her fist pressing against your mound. The pressure against you is delicious. It obsessed you, every time you considered it; the way she can make every time feel like the first time. You could never get bored. She’s a force.

You want to taunt her or tease her, rile her up just a little more. You love her rough side. But you know she wouldn’t go for it, the state you’re in, and besides–you’re tired, and the way she’s fingerfucking you feels so goddamn good you can’t even think of a single thing to say.

She goes from stroking your folds and covering you with your own slick, to slipping her ring finger in with her middle. It’s an easy glide, too, and she starts pumping the digits, thumb hard against your clit as she works you open.

“God damn,” she groans, “All beat up and you’re still fuckin’ gushing for me, pretty girl.”

The pressure is overwhelming but you want to endure, need to endure. That doesn’t, however, stop your body from writhing and shaking, and the combination of her words and her ministrations, you know Tess feels how hard you’re clenching around her, feeling yourself get too close, too fast. She winks at you before turning back to Joel.

“C’mon over here,” she beckons him. He obeys, kneeling down beside her. She leans over and narrates. “Look at how she’s taking my fingers. Barely any resistance. Slipped right in, see how wet she is for me?”

Joel hums in acknowledgement, something between a sigh and a growl.

“Good thing she’s this wet already,” she tells Joel, nodding at the strap between her legs, “Otherwise you might have to suck it first-”

His growl turns into something like a whine, desperate and beautiful. You know more than most how much effort he’s putting into not allowing himself to speak. How he must really be desperate to get fucked if he’s restraining himself like this.

“And we know that’s not a punishment for you, don’t we?” She swats him on the cheek, “We all know how much Joel Miller loves suckin’ cock, huh?”

She’s not wrong. His eyes somehow grow darker, and you’re so focused at watching his reactions that you barely even register Tess spreading your legs even further apart till the head of her cock presses against your drooling cunt, and she slides the entire length in, bottoming out in a single smooth thrust.

“JESUS, Tess,” you cry out.

She just grins and holds you by the waist. “Hold on tight baby,” she tells you, “I know you can take all this and then some.”

After a few restrained thrusts, she finds her rhythm and starts fucking you. The initial sensation of being filled starts to wane, and you swear your pussy is a starving entity of its own. It wants and it wants and it wants.

The ache is so good, and she’s deep, too. It’s a perfect balance of pleasure and pressure. With each cant of her hips, you sink further into a blinding euphoria. It’s exactly what you need.

“Taking me so fucking good,” she praises, “Like you were made to take me. Goddamn, baby, you’re dripping like a faucet.”

“Needed this so bad-” you mumble, “Fuck, Tess, I need you-”

“You got me, baby,” she promises, “You got me, I’ll give you anything you need.”

Every word is punctuated by another thrust.

“Tell me what you need, honey.”

“Faster,” you gasp, ��Please, Tess, need it faster-”

With a growl, she shifts you, pulls out for a moment and grabs you by the legs. She drags you further down the chair but rests the back of your calves on her shoulder before plunging the strap back in, deeper and rougher than before.

You wince a little, the tender part of your belly stinging, and she notices immediately. Rearranges you, just a little.

When she slides back in, the pain is gone. Only pleasure remains.

“See?” Tess snarls, “She knows how to be good, huh?”

Still holding your legs with one arm, she wraps the other around you and lands a hard smack on your ass, grinning when she feels you gush around her again.

You buck and writhe, and you know you have the stupidest grin plastered across your face.

She makes you dizzy.

“That’s it, baby,” she tells you. “So good, telling me what you need,”

“Fuck–” you rasp, “I’m gonna cum, Tess, please-”

She keeps to the rhythm, letting her fast strokes and the snap of her hips undo you. You’re close, so fucking close, but you can see the way she’s trembling, so focused on you, you don’t think she realises she’s close to the edge too.

Now, the only thing you want is for you both to cum together.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Tess, daddy, cum in me, please–”

A strangled moan leaves her, breathless, and she fucks into you and feels the way you tighten and pulse around the cock, feels the way you drip greedily down her thighs, and that’s enough; Tess comes with you.

As you come back out of the fog, your head is giddy with bliss. You’re tangled up, sweaty, sticky skin pressed together. You hold her close as she runs her hands up and down your back, soothing you. Your breasts are pressed together like a jigsaw puzzle, and the thought is silly, but it’s true.

The strength of your orgasm has knocked you numb, and it takes several moments for your vision and hearing to come back fully. Tess seems to be in the same boat, because it’s at the same time that you both hear it.

Slick squelches. Soft moans.

You both look over at the same time. Tess’s jaw drops. You feel another surge of arousal run through you as you focus on Joel.

“I’m- I’m sorry, honey,” he tells you, “Shouldn’t’a acted like that.”

You barely register his words. Instead, you watch how he’s stripped down near completely, barring his socks. That should make you laugh, but his legs are lewdly spread. With one hand he’s gripping his balls, clearly trying not to touch his drooling cock. With the other, he’s three fingers deep in his asshole, moving desperately. There’s a bottle of lube nearby and you can see its contents dripping down his wrist as he pumps his fingers hard and fast into his aching hole.

Tess looks stuck between telling him off for touching himself, and wholly impressed by his dedication to preparation.

“Well I’ll be damned,” she laughs, incredulous, “Someone’s eager.”

She’s still inside you, and you can feel another rush of your cum drip down the strap. An idea strikes you.

“Fuck him with it,” you tell her, looking down at the thick silicone as she glides out of you, “Fuck him with it, while it’s still dripping with me.”

Tess moves a hand to her breast, pinching and flicking at her own nipple, practically growling at your words. She stares at you for a moment. Then back to Joel.

He’s lost for words, too, it seems. He looks absolutely wrecked. His fingers are still buried deep, but they’re not moving anymore. Focus on the motion is forgotten, he’s just fixed on you both, eyes darting between you, waiting for a decision, any decision, to be made.

“Honey,” she smirks at you, “Why don’t you move over to the head of the bed there, that’s a good girl.”

You get up and scoot back, snorting a laugh as she swats at your ass while you rearrange yourself so your back is against the headboard.

“Spread those legs,” she orders. “Mmm yes, that’s it. My good fucking girl-”

She turns to Joel. “What a nice view, huh?”

Your lips are puffy and used, shining with slick. The room smells like sex, heavy and intoxicating.

“I think you’d better clean up the mess I made of her,” she gestures towards you and Joel doesn’t hesitate. “Hands and knees, Miller.”

He moves from his seat, crawling up the bed, wrapping his hands around your thighs and spreading them further.

The first stroke of his tongue feels like coming home. The hot, wet pass of it is intoxicating, and you’re already so sensitive you don’t need any focus on your clit to feel the build clutch at you again already.

“Good boy,” Tess praises him. He growls into you, the strokes of his tongue growing wider and faster, drinking up every drop of you.

He pulls away for only a moment. “Fuck me, Tess, please-”

“You focus on her and you’ll get what you need,” she promises, “But you’d better move fast, Texas.”

He sighs, but glances up at you. He nods, more weight to it than you’d expect, before he runs another lick up your cunt.

You shudder at the sensation, your legs turning to mush again. His calloused hands scrape against your thighs as he holds them apart, nuzzles at your pussy, dives back in, alternating between licking and sucking.

There are many things that can be said about the man worshiping between your legs, but no one could ever say he eats pussy with anything less than religious devotion.

He nibbles gently in a way that devastates, knocks you back and wears you down. Once you’ve hit one peak it doesn’t take you long to hit the next, and he has you on the edge so damn fast you’d feel embarrassed if you didn’t also feel so fucking good.

“Fuck,-” you breathe, “Fuck, Joel-! Can’t fucking stop coming- Fuuuckkk–!”

He blinks, dark brown eyes gazing up at you as he continues, relentless, barely impeded by the way your body is convulsing from the overwhelm of sensation.

You shudder on his mouth, legs shaking, involuntary whimpers turning into something more like panting whines and moans. You’re pretty sure the entire building can hear you. You really don’t care.

Tess has been watching the whole time, smirking but silent. Now she lines up her still-wet cock against his slick hole.

“Y’ready, Miller?” She asks, and you feel yourself melt at the tenderness of it. You fall in love just a little bit more, every time you see her soft.

He grunts an affirmation. His mouth is still on you but his movements slow and he buries his nose between your folds, nudging at you gently as Tess presses the head of her cock to his slick hole. The most beautiful whine slips out his mouth, reverberating against your cunt. You can feel the way his entire body moves, pressing up into you, as she lets herself loose, thrusting shallowly at first before snapping her hips in longer, deeper strokes.

With one particularly brutal thrust, he knocks forward. The curve of his nose hits against your clit and you come again with a shriek, soaking his face as he takes everything she gives him.

You’re worn out, spent and satisfied. You clutch him by the hair and yank him off of you, and now his moans aren’t muffled anymore.

He keeps his head between your thighs, breathing in your scent as the cum on his face cools and starts to dry. He’s loud, whining and grunting, taking Tess’s cock like it’s his only purpose.

“Fuck, Tessa-” he sobs, the heat of his breath on your used-up cunt. “Feels- so fucking- good.”

“Feels real fuckin good, don’t it?” she echoes, rhythm never ceasing, “Lettin’ your daddy fuck you like this.”

“Uh huh.”

“You wanna be good for me, say thank you?”

“I-” His words come out stilted, punctuated by each thrust. “Yes-”

“Say thank you, Daddy.”

“Thank- Thank- you- daddy-” he chokes.

“Thank you for what?” you prompt, and Tess grins. Joel looks up at you with a flash of something that could be fury or hunger.

“Thank you-” he hisses, “Thank you- daddy- for teaching me a lesson-”

“Good boy,” she soothes, “Say ‘thank you daddy, for teaching me how silly and childish I’ve been.’”

“Thank you daddy,” he echoes, “For teaching me how silly I’ve been. How childish. Ain’t been actin’ right. Not to you honey-” he presses a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh. Closes his eyes when he speaks to her. “Not to you either, daddy.”

“You feelin good, baby?” she asks him.

He breathes out a shudder. “Feels so fucking good, but–”

“But?”

“Need more. Need to be touched.”

“Poor baby,” Tess pouts, “I’m afraid we can’t do that.”

He whines, but nods.

“But since you’re taking this lil attitude adjustment so well, I suppose we can let you cum. That sound alright to you honey?”

“Sure,” you beam, “He can rub himself up against the mattress if he likes. Cum just like that.”

“Mmm yeah,” Tess agrees, “You able to cum from rutting up against the bed?”

“Yes- yes anything, please-”

“Love it when he begs,” you sigh and Tess hums in affirmation.

She presses him down, keeps her cock in him as she knocks him so he’s flat on the bed, legs splayed, swollen dick rubbing against the covers as she holds him by the hips.

This whole time, she’s kept a steady pace. Not quite brutal, but certainly not leisurely. You see the way his own hips rock as he humps the bed, trying to find an angle that’ll give him the release he needs.

“I’m- fuck, I’m getting close Tessa– Gonna fuckin cum–”

“Good,” she smacks him hard and watches the flesh of his ass shake deliciously from the blow.

The masochist he is, it’s all he needs to tumble over the edge.

He comes with a shout, cum painting the bedsheets and pooling on the fabric, coating his stomach, his cock, his balls. Tess is still inside him, still hitting his prostate with every stroke, and it strengthens his orgasm to a point of almost overwhelming intensity. After a few moments, you’re not sure if he’ll ever stop coming, the amount of it verges on concerning as the pool of cum threatens to trickle over the edge of the bed.

Finally, his orgasm comes to an end, and Tess’s thrusts slow.

They both reel back, panting, Tess pulling out gently and Joel whimpering at the loss of sensation.

“Good boy,” she tells him, unbuckling the harness and letting the strap fall to the floor.

“Fuuuuuckkkkkk-” he sighs, and you giggle. His eyes snap up to you, but he’s laughing too.

He shakes his head and starts to peel himself up from the sticky mess he’s made. “Sorry I’m such a jackass.”

“Eh,” you shrug, “We know you’re a jackass.”

He nods, considering.

“And–” Tess joins in, “We know how to set you straight.”

He snorts.

“Just– I know you were scared out there,” you tell him, and he must’ve been fucked real good because he doesn’t even try to argue. “We’re always gonna have close calls. But we’re in this together, yeah? Don’t shut me out just because you’re afraid.”

He’s silent for a moment. Then nods at you.

“Okay, honey. And- thank you, Tessa. You know how t’ keep me in line.”

“Anytime, Texas,” she grins.

You get up and turn on the shower. The rest of the day, you’ll get clean. You’ll rest. You’ll let your aching bones start their healing. Just over the sound of the shower spray, you hear Tess speaking to Joel; “Now, unless I’m much mistaken, it’s your turn to change the sheets-”

#joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #tlou #joel miller x tess servopoulos #tess servopoulos x f!reader #tess servopoulos x reader #save me daddy tess #daddy tess save me

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bakugoushotwife · 7 months

Text

kinktober day fifteen: brat-taming kink

>>> god bless i love him so bad...brain rot for this plot...y'all should i make this one like a series fdskjkjgjkgj i swear to god i'm feeling this way about all my fics as of late!! this one has a lot of japanese symbolism and traditions included. i am not japanese and all my research came from different sources across google, but if anything is incorrect or insensitive pls reach out and let me know <3

>>> starring: suguru geto x curvy!f!reader >>> cw: brat-taming, history/pining between reader and geto, face-fucking (m!receiving) edging (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), breeding, degradation/praise, pet names, creampie >>> wc: 4.6k >>> event masterlist:

he didn’t love the idea, to say the least. he understands why a marriage is necessary. it humanizes him, makes him relatable, opens the door to more preaching topics. he didn’t understand why he had to marry his fellow sorcerer and old classmate—especially one as mouthy as you. you didn’t either, forced into it by the higher ups with hopes you could bring suguru back to the right side of history, not taking your feelings into the matter at all, not that you expected them to. but you’re sure they already knew you wouldn’t be able to complete this mission—perhaps they hoped for your death at his hand.

at one point, you were friends. now, you were about to become the unwilling misses geto, though even that was more complicated than it seems. you were the third musketeer back in the day. even shoko preferred to stay out of the boys’ shenanigans, sticking to herself or utahime, not bothered in the slightest to let you chase after satoru and suguru. you were closer to the latter, finding it easy to gang up on the former together. he entertained your wit and you let him try out new moves on you. you loved each other. that’s why it hurt so bad—still hurts to this day—that he left and turned into this. and now you’re stuck in the thick of it.

you make him beyond angry. putting aside your utter disrespect and disobedience, you remind him of nothing but conflicting times, things he’d rather not think about now that those days were supposed to be far behind him. you hadn’t changed a bit from the day he left, and he hates that even more. you’re lively and talented, your powers long abused by the very higher ups that contributed to his madness and the ones that leveraged you into this ceremony. when he was told of your engagement, he could have refused and had them find him a new wife. he could have killed them all and refused this altogether—he’s not quite sure why he said yes. he pulls on his hakama trousers, smoothing at the pleats as he racks his brain. he slings his haori around his shoulders, and he realizes a small part of him may have always wanted to marry you; he remembers fantasies of you in high school, recalling how badly he yearned for your affection. and he hates that more than anything.

he knows you feel similarly about him, hence all your acting up. you had been short and cold and almost satoru level snotty with him through the engagement parties and wedding planning and obligatory dinners. you have the nerve to sneer as you speak and look at him with nothing but disgust. he’s the one who should be disgusted with you. you chose to stay with gojo over him, chose that world of lies and injustice when you could have been enlightened like him from the beginning. it’s only fitting you’re his bride, really. it’s what he deserves, as retribution for your betrayal. and he would make sure to claim what was his on his wedding night. the servants come to get him as he shrugs into his montsuki with a new smug smile replacing what was a dreading frown.

you wore a red iro-uchikake. and you look like a dream he had when he was a teenager. it’s ironic really. he knows not wearing the more traditional and all white shiromuku was another one of your jabs, but the color red was more significant to him than white. it means life, it wards off all evils. perhaps you knew that too, and that’s why you chose the color, though geto remembers you wearing the deep blood color often enough through adolescence that seeing you in it again makes some of the tightness in his chest let off just a little bit, even as you avoid his eyes.

he looked magnificent. his hair had grown longer, and you had always liked to play with it before, but now it cascades over his shoulder in waves despite the top-bun halving the thickness. you could hear your heart pound. if you were to tell the second year version of yourself that you would be sharing a wedding temple with suguru geto, you may have cried from relief and happiness. but as you get closer to him with no guests to witness this other than the priest and a handful of temple ladies, you feel the coursing energy of excitement and nerves. you aren’t sure what to expect from him now that no one will be watching. you don’t even truly know how he feels for you. he has been making attempts to earn your favor, but that was because he had a crowd.

he takes your hand and smiles down at you like he did when you were much younger and much less conflicted over your feelings. it makes your heart flutter like it used to, and your eyes widen a bit at his gentility. the priest offers his blessings to the gods as you two stand before him, hand-in-hand. your mind races. how much of this is real? and even if he’s being genuine, does it really matter? after everything he put you through, all the things he had done, the things he wants to do, can you look past it all just to love him anyway?

the temple servants set up the sakazuiki. they space the three ceremonial cups evenly apart, and fill them with the richest sake. san-san-kudo. you bite your lip, hating yourself for your doubt. suguru gently pulls you out of your head and towards the table, to the binding ceremony of old tradition. he picks up the first cup, holding it to his face.

“you look beautiful, okusan.” he smirks over the cup, looking oddly satisfied with himself, like he knows something you don’t. he then sips the first cup three times, holding your eyes. you feel your body burn, looking down at the kimono you chose and back to him. his fingers lightly brush against yours as you take the cup. you feel butterflies.

“thank you, geto-san.” you tilt your head down to indicate your grace, thoughts fuzzied by his intense stare and old feelings bubbling up your gut. you sip three times, and he picks up the next sakazuiki. he chuckles, and you swear you see a little bit of light in his deep eyes.

“are you waiting for titles until the conclusion of the ceremony, anata?” he piles on the mulit-meaning endearment, passing you the second cup. you nearly choke on your sake.

“no. you look very nice, uchi no hito.” you take your final sip, and it’s geto’s turn to stammer. he expected a tsureai or muko, but the one you chose had so much meaning. your home, your person. that’s what you called him. he knew the shock and wonder had to show on his face based off of your smug grin whenever you set the cup down. you think you can toy with him, pull stunts with him. you’re much too bold—and he wants to hate it, he wants to smother that personality right out of you, but for now–he’ll let himself love it.

“this binds us through our love, wisdom, and happiness.” he says the words to bring you together officially, tying your souls together for better or worse. he sips from the final cup three times, the symbolism not lost on you, and passes it to you to do the same.

“this binds us through our hatred, passion, and ignorance.” you look him in the eyes as you take your drinks, and his dark pink lips stretch into a wide smile.

“and now you are mine. how lucky we are to be brought back to each other in this way.” he chums, taking the wedding rings from his pocket as the priest continues offering his prayers to the skies. you hold out your hand expectantly, and he arches a brow.

“nine is not a lucky number, perhaps we’re cursed instead.” you shrug, that same smugness tugging at your lips. oh, you’re going to drive him crazy. you give him hope and you pull it away, you jab at him and you’re so gorgeous that he can’t even be upset with you for it. he slides the diamond encrusted with black gems down your third finger, giving you a smug smile of his own. he can play dirty too. he extends the box to you and you pluck his gold band from it, sliding it slowly down his finger. the excitement builds in your gut as you become more and more okay with whatever this is. you always thought he had a point. the jujutsu society was so horribly fucked up–maybe he was right all along and you were the coward after all. i mean, where did all your loyalty get you? sold off to a dangerous man with hopes to shut you up for good? passed around mission to mission until your body barely functioned anymore? maybe you could turn a blind eye to all his indiscretions, especially when he’s looking at you with such affection in once cold eyes. you still hold his hand in both of yours, and he enjoys the warmth, but you’ve pushed and poked him just enough, these teasing touches part of them.

instead of a kiss to seal this union once more, he leans down to your ear. “go get changed. i like simple lingerie.” he all but purrs in your ear, sending shivers down your spine at the order. you were losing sight of yourself at a rapid pace. you had hoped to hold out longer than this. his lips tickle the shell of your ear and a soft gasp leaves you. you tell yourself to be strong.

“and if i don’t? you’d be lucky to sleep with me at all, husband.” you sneer, and again he doesn’t know what to make of you, but he’s dedicated to figuring it out. he leans up and tilts his head, analyzing the lust in your eyes and the shakiness in your hands. he laughs at you when he realizes.

“go get changed, little pet. we’ll discuss your guilt and attitude later.” he shakes his head at you, his gaze making you feel as if you were already undressed before him. he turns, tossing that confident smirk over his shoulder again for good measure. “red is your color.”

and then the temple girls are at your side, ready to escort their new geto-sama to her new room in the geto estate.. you allow them, trailing silently as you wonder just what he was able to figure out by looking at you, and what lingerie you would put on for him.

you choose a red babydoll dress. the sheer plunging neckline leaves little to the imagination and the tight fit of the lace leaves even less. it fans out from your body from there, the fluffy hem stopping just below your ass. seeing yourself in the mirror, perched perfectly at the end of the bed, you smile. you imagine that qualifies as simple, though you’re sure it will still make him crazy for you. you’re embarrassed to want that, to dress yourself up and present yourself to him just as he asked. your friends would be ashamed, namely one. but as the door creaks open and you feel an icy stare raking over your body, you can’t quell your excitement.

he hums approvingly as the door clicks shut behind him. he’s so grateful he didn’t deny this union out of his own narrow minded rage. he never thought he would see you again after you denied him the first time, but here you are, on the bed you two would soon share in his home, now branded with his last name— all wrapped up like a christmas present.

“sugurin–” the old nickname flies off your tongue in your haste, and a fondness glosses over the devious intent in his eyes. you clear your throat and tug the sides of your dress down pathetically. “i... actually don’t know what to say.” you blink in realization, painfully aware of how alone you two are. was he still the same man you knew?

“don’t worry, kibōchi.” he returns his own nickname, the way you squirm in your place at the sound of it wasn’t lost on him, though the name puts you at was in the same way it stirs you up. his desire returns at your doe-eyed stare, you trust him to some extent, even through your wariness. “i’ll start. you were assigned to marry me, no?”

you nod your head, now knowing he wouldn’t hurt you, not with the fondness in which he says your name. your core tingles as he approaches you, a scarily sweet smile on his face.

“good. thank you for your honesty, anata girl.” he nods, sliding his crested black kimono off, the only proper covering of your wedding remaining on his body, for your convenience if anything. “and you’ve been such a brat because…? which is it: you’re mad at them, mad at me, or mad at yourself?”

you furrow your brows at his words. it seemed he learned everything in just an extended look at you. “am not a brat.” you fold your arms in indignation, incidentally proving him right. he just shakes his head, chuckling again.

“look at you. you didn’t answer my question and you’re pouting like a toddler.” he lets his gaze drift down to your body just begging for his touch. he can’t help but wonder what you’ll like and what your favorite position will be and how fertile you are and what kind of drive you’ll have, all things he never learned about you when you were just friends. you feel his scrutiny and fight through your mixed feelings to respond.

“can’t it be a mixture of all three?” you sigh out shakily, deciding to stick to your guns even if you want him, too.

he clicks his tongue in consideration. “i suppose. but the sorcerers of your past no longer have any influence over your life. and you should be more forgiving to yourself, even if you are being a snot.”

you scrunch your nose up in distaste, hating how his words soothe your heart. “you conveniently left yourself out of that equation.” you fold your arms and it only pushes your chest out more. you’re impossible, and it’s hard for him not to smirk at you. you’re powerless, he knows and you know it—yet you fight anyway. it’s precious.

“i don’t regret leaving. i did the right thing.” he says, head held high. his devotion is moving, even when he looks at you with such a mixed bag of emotions. “i missed you however. i accepted this union to see you again.”

you can tell from his eyes that his emotion is genuine, but it still shoots pangs through your heart as you recall days spent in bed crying over his absence. you turn your head away so the influence of his obsidian stare couldn’t cut so deep. “you left me.”

“you didn’t join me when i asked you to.” he retorts, clenching his jaw at your argumentative nature. “i came back, just for you.”

“you came back to use me.” you spit, echoing the words of your other classmates. the look in your eyes is angry, this was something you genuinely believed. that infuriates him. “you were going to leverage me, until you provoked him.”

his jaw ticks again. “and who told you this, satoru? i would have thought you knew me best.” he sighs his disappointment, grabbing your hands. he pulls you off the bed, your knees buckling you into a stand—then he roughly grabs your cheeks to make you look at him. “or did you forget just how close we were? how deeply i loved you then, all the time we spent together? you’re the one who betrayed me. you were mine! mine, you were supposed to be mine and you stayed with him!” his voice rises just a bit with his frustration, but he drops his grip on you and steps back, “i would have done anything to take you with me. and everything…could have been the same, i would have kept you safe and away from this life. We could have had so much more time together—and you’re being so goddamn bratty now that i have you back…what am i to do with you?”

you blink rapidly at his speech washes over you. did he really mean it, that he just wanted you to have you? you were never intended to be used as a bargaining chip, and you let everyone else warp the vision of the man you once held so dear? you shake your head violently, rejecting the idea. he rakes his hands over his face, fed up with the back and forth. “i’ve compartmentalized you out over the years. but i have you back, and i refuse to waste any more time.”

“i’m sorry sugurin—i thought you hated me!” you defend, reaching for him. he grabs your wrists again and plants your hands on his chest, moving his touch to your face.

“then make it up to me.” he orders with a fervent nod, his hold on your face firm but comforting. you surprise him by leaning up and closing the remaining distance to kiss him, balling up his shirt in your fists. you were absolutely insufferable, annoying, bratty, and irritating—but he could do this forever. feeling you move with such passion, vigorously pulling at him and finally giving in to all those pent up feelings was enough to prompt him to do the same. he memorizes your taste for a while before he pulls away and directs you to your knees with his signature rough handling, though he’s still careful not to hurt you. “i want you to really make it up to me.”

you nod eagerly and shove your hair over your shoulders while he frees his waiting ache. he can hardly stand the sight of you on your knees under him, massive cock creating a shadow over your obedient and eager face. as gorgeous as you are like this, it was too late to make up for your transgressions. you salivate at the sight of his impressive length standing proud over you, curved and so long he leans to one side with a thickness you know will make even your throat burn. your mouth parts for him immediately, slick sliding down the insides of your thighs at the idea of relieving his drooling slit. “you’re gonna have to open wider than that, okusan.”

and he helps you do so, planting his broad callused hands firmly on each side of your face, bumping his cockhead against your puffy bottom lip and shoving himself into your silky walls. you moan out in surprise and relax your throat, making your new husband grin at the performance. He’s perhaps unintentionally violent as he sheaths to the hilt, your nose bumping against black coarse hair above his shaft. “there, there.”

he pats your cheek patronizingly, flicking away a tear that formed. “don’t cry, kibōchi. you were made for this.” he coos affectionately, body growing hot to the touch at his vision. he knew this was a great start to teaching you your place in life, and that being a brat was not one of them. running away was not one of them, you were permanently his and he would never let you go again. he pulls your head back off with that grip to use you, plunging your throat back down on him and biting down on his lip to keep his own sounds from interrupting your gorgeous gags.

“don’t you like this so much better than acting snotty, sweet wife?” he teases only slightly, taking your teary eyes flicking up to look at him as a yes. you can feel him deep, that burning sensation that you knew would come starting to sting your vocal cords. “you take me so well, i’ve always told you sorcery wasn’t for you. this is all you need to do forever.”

you moan at the idea, him keeping you home to take after the estate and maybe even caring for the kids you may have in the future. he chortles, pleasantly surprised by you yet again. “you think you’re clever, darling. acting all sweet now so i’ll forget all about your behavior, hm?”

he pulls you off with a lewd pop, pushing at the wimpy straps of your dress with a satisfied hum as the fabric falls away from your chest. “too bad. get on the bed.”

your heart raced, but you nod. your throat was too hoarse to speak anyway. you weren’t planning anything, you felt like liquid, you had given into your vows and let suguru take you mind, body, and spirit—and he hadn’t even touched you yet. you wobble up to your feet and he slaps your ass when you turn it to him, which makes you gasp and stumble forward. he hums, predatory narrow eyes watching you climb up and lay in the center of the large mattress. he wastes no time in positioning over you. he spits, thumbing his lube over your sensitivity. he pins your fluffy dress up over your stomach, lulling you into sweet moans, your high building in your stomach rapidly. he doesn’t know where to look, you’re all too perfect. the faces you make, your beautiful, slobber-soaked mouth pouting out all your pleasures, your gorgeous tits sitting so prettily in wait for him. then there was your weeping cunt, so pathetically soaked just from sucking him off.

“su–gu-rin~” you whimper out a little, your legs trying to close around his large body mass as the feeling becomes more intense. he hums, smacking your cunt.

“brats don’t get to cum.” he shrugs, licking and biting at the insides of your thighs to tease you further. your plush skin is so sensitive, and he loves watching the way you squirm to get away from his canines scraping your flesh. you gasp in anger, orgasm ruined the longer he refuses to touch where you need him most.

“brat?—you’re really gonna be mean to me, uchi no hito?” you pout, and he can feel his heart pang at the insistence and the sweet way you call him yours. you’re softening his heart already. he still had the want to punish you, but the need to claim you was surely fighting back.

“then apologize for your behavior or you won’t cum at all.” he sits up a bit, tossing some hair over his shoulder. you bat your lashes at him, knowing he was hurt by your choice, just like you were hurt by his. but now there was a chance to make it right, to be together forever like you were meant to–and if you had to apologize for your doubts in him, you would sing them loudly.

“oh—sugurin, i’m sorry! i really am,” his fingers squeeze and toy with your clit, making your body jump as you try to stutter through your words. “just mi-missed you, that’s all, was mean because i missed y-you!” you writhe and wiggle closer and away from his touch simultaneously, and he hums happily at your speech.

“that’s better.” he hums approvingly, pushing your legs up to your chest. he wants you to feel this as much and as deeply as possible. “such a good girl, did i tell you how beautiful you look okusan?”

you nod, feeling the well of nerves heating up in your core, his hands resting on your knees as he looks over the disheveled lingerie. “told me at the wedding…” you sniffle, wiggling your hips for his attention again.

“i see.” he frowns, as if disappointed by your answer. his hands feel your thighs and trail back to your knees, getting his hands closer and closer to where you needed him most with each pass. you whine desperately, and he hums out in fake curiosity, “what is it, darling?”

“need you to touch me—please.” you squirm, giving him those irresistible doe-eyes. he planned to make you beg much harder than that, but you had him worked all the way up, your body, behavior, and the history between you was setting him on fire.

“oh i’ll make you cum, kibōchi.” he moves his grip to the backs of your thighs as he moves his hips forward. you try to prepare yourself but it’s no use, he plunges in without any hesitation or resistance on your part. it aches, you clench down at the spread and his thumb comes back to your clit to rub the pain away. “but you can only do it on my dick. got it?”

you nod slowly and his hips set a pace. he’s so deep you can barely believe he’s allowed to fuck you like this, the pain melting away to a dull pleasure, different from earlier. his gaze is still white hot and searing, devouring every inch of your body. “you really are so beautiful, sweet okusan. my kibōchi turned perfect cocksleeve, yeah?” he growls into the space between you, his fingers digging into the fat of your skin so hard you know he’ll leave his mark.

that draws a moan out of you, loving the idea of being nothing more than a wife, his partner, something you never thought you’d be once you parted ways. the feeling of him rocking into your body is addicting, and now you know you are capable of looking past anything he’s done or will do just to love him anyway. you would throw all your morals away just for this, and he knows that too. “my pretty little okusan, trying so hard to pretend she didn’t want me. now look, the prettiest you’ve ever been bouncing on me.”

he leans over your body, deepening his angle and allowing him to pick up his speed. he watches the way your tits bounce at this pace, your eyes rolling back a little as you’re rendered unable to speak again, only lewd smacks of his balls against your ass and his feral grunts to be heard. his hand finds your throat, and his mouth drops open in response to your sweet moans and impossible beauty. you are perfect. he knew you would be, but your pussy was his personal kryptonite. “you feel so good, anata girl. you look even better, stuffed to the brim.”

he smiles at the double meaning. you are his darling girl, but you are also his exasperating brat. god, he always knew what to say. your jaw falls, gripping his forearms to warn him that you were close. “please—need to cum!”

he hums, nodding his approval, “then cum, okusan.” he commands, deep voice booming. his spine tingles at the idea of you taking your first round of his seed. his hair falls so angelically around his angular features when you open your eyes, it’s the final push over the edge. you choke out a moan, and then your nails are scraping at his biceps, his shoulders and chest, whatever you can get your hands on, and your release is rushing over his dick seconds later.

“are you on birth control?” he groans, feeling his cock twitch in between your wet walls. you shake your head, chest heaving deliciously. “good, let’s see how fertile you are.”

your eyes cross at his statement and his balls feel so heavy, squeezing tight and spurting out their contents against your womb. your head digs into the pillow and his falls back at the feeling of being so full and warm. he keeps his hips rocking, making you gasp with every stroke as he shoves his deposit deeper. You’re both panting when you look at each other, years of unspoken yearning and love being communicated between you. there’s a lot to catch up on, and a lot to relearn about one another, but one thing is certain: this marriage was fated, and not arranged.

#kyleewritesjjk #kylee's kinktober event #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #geto suguru x reader #jjk x reader #geto suguru #jjk geto #geto x reader #geto smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto suguru smut #geto x you

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mistywaves98 · 9 months

Note

Hello! Can I request a mean dom!Scaramouche (Wanderer) with a s/o who has a degradation kink?

✧･ﾟ:* ->Scaramouche x Fem! Reader

✧･ﾟ:* ->¡Warnings!: NSFW, Degradation, he's Wanderer but is referred to as Scaramouche, Choking sorta (he pushes his fingers into your mouth), Fingering, he's just a meanie here, Not proofread (I apologize for any spelling mistakes)!

✧･ﾟ:* ->Finally posting something after months of hiatus 😭😭 I'm sorry I left so suddenly but I hope this will make up for it 🥲 It wasn't meant to be this long but I got carried away...Enjoy!!

✧･ﾟ:* ->Minor writing smut! DNI if uncomfy!

Scaramouche doesn't hold back his opinions and thoughts, no matter how harsh they sound to others. You, his significant other, are no exception. Not that you're complaining...

"You're such a slut, you know that? Bucking your hips up for any kind of friction like a needy bitch. Are my fingers not enough? Move them? How about no...I quite like seeing you all desperate like this." You let out a frustrated groan as he denies you yet again. You're on his lap, your back pressed against his chest and legs spread out. His fingers are buried in your cunt, just barely nudging your sweet spot. It's been like this for what feels like hours and he refuses to move them at all. You're so sensitive now and every little movement you make sends pleasure rippling through your body like waves. But it's not enough. If only he could just give in and...

You try to grind yourself against his hand once more, but this time he's quick to put a stop to it by using his free one to hold your hip in place with a bruising grip. This emits a low whine from you and tears well up in your eyes, a cruel smile crosses his face when he realizes. He brings his mouth to brush the shell of your ear as he speaks in a condescending tone,"Awww, gonna cry? Is the little whore not enjoying herself? Good. This was punishment anyway, you brought this upon yourself. So fucking needy...you couldn't wait till I got home to satisfy you so you decided to hump a damn pillow like an animal in heat. It's utterly pathetic and shows just how helpless you are without me" his voice gets lower and his words progressively become filthier and harsher.

Tears spill from your eyes and one would almost think you were hurt from them, but the way your walls clamp around his fingers even tighter tell a different story. As he continues to whisper vile things into your ear, you feel your face get warmer and your thighs twitch, a sign that you're getting close. He takes note of that and scoffs,"Are you seriously going to cum? I've barely touched you, unless...you enjoy being berated? This is a new low for you and here I thought you couldn't become even more of a slut than you already were, but it's okay, you're my slutty little girl, aren't you? Go on, come on my fingers like the whore you are" he pushes his fingers in even deeper, his fingers pressing against your g spot. That was all it took to have you arching your back and cumming around his fingers, moaning loudly.

You lay back against his chest, breathing heavily as Scaramouche pulls his digits out and observes the way your juices glisten on them, chuckling to himself. Suddenly, an idea comes to him and his smirk widens as he says in a partly sarcastic tone,"You're so messy...it's only fair that you take the responsibility and clean it up, right?" Without warning, he uses his free hand to force your mouth open as he shoves his coated index and middle finger past your lips, making you gag and cough as they hit the back of your throat.

Your reaction makes him grin as he pushes down on your tongue and moves his hand back and forth slightly, making you taste yourself whether you want to or not. This leaves you with no option other than to obediently wrap your lips around them and begin sucking. Your actions earn a hum of approval from him,"So you do have a brain after all. That's it. Keep sucking on my fingers just like that, imagine it's my cock" his words make your mind wander and your face grows warm as you feel yourself become aroused once more. Scaramouche notices it as well and an amused laugh reaches your ears. He brings the hand that was previously holding your mouth open down to your soaking pussy. He rubs circles around your clit, making you shudder and clench your fist,"So wet and ready for more...Was one orgasm not enough? Oh why do I even ask, of course it's not enough for a stupid whore like you...you're so desperate it's almost funny. But fine then, if you want more, then I'll fuck you till you're screaming for me to stop. Don't get ahead of yourself though, I'm not done punishing you just yet..."

He then gives your clit a hard pinch, making you jump and let out a muffled yelp. Scaramouche then runs a finger down your slit, coating it with your slick before pushing two fingers inside of you till they're knuckle deep. You writhe on his lap as he thrusts them in and out roughly. The assault on your pussy has you seeing stars and slightly muffled whimpers leave your mouth as you clamp your thighs around his hand. The pleasure is short lived as he suddenly pulls out his fingers and gives your pussy a sharp smack, earning a loud cry from you as he growls lowly into your ear,"I didn't tell you stop sucking, slutty bitch. And keep those legs spread for me"

You immediately begin sucking on his fingers once more but hesitate to open your legs. The hesitation doesn't linger though and you slowly spread them apart, making him smirk at your obedience. The two that were previously in your pussy resume their actions, not being gentle in the slightest. Within a few minutes you can feel your second orgasm of the night approaching and you know he's aware as well. The way your moans get louder and higher in pitch make it obvious. However, as you feel yourself about to reach your peak, he pulls his fingers out of your mouth and pussy, leaving you high and dry, a sadistic look adorns his face as he glances down at your teary expression.

"Why...why did you do that? I was about to—!" Your protest is cut off as he grabs your hips and effortlessly lifts you up, turning you around so that you're facing him. The smug look on his face makes you want to slap him. Suddenly, he grabs your face in a tight grip and pulls you closer to him so that you're looking into each other's eyes. His pupils are dilated and his irises seem to be literally glowing as you see the sadistic lust swirling around in them, making you shiver,"I know, that was part of the punishment," he says bluntly before adding in a much more ominous tone,"But now I'm done playing with you"

He then presses his lips against yours in a heated kiss. His tongue pushes it's way into your mouth and dominates yours instantly. Your hands grasp his shoulders as his keep their firm grip on your hips. You tense up for a moment as you feel him grind your bare pussy against his obvious bulge and you feel him smile into the kiss as he swallows your squeak of surprise. When he finally pulls away, you're left panting and out of breath while he looks better than ever besides the light blush on his cheeks and beads of sweat.

He licks the saliva off his lips before unzipping his pants with one hand and leaning in to whisper in your ears,"Better prepare yourself, because I have no intentions of holding back tonight..."

#i finally have some motivation letss goooo #✧･ﾟ:* meena's memos! ✧･ﾟ:*#smut #x reader smut #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader smut #scaramouche x reader smut #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader

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feyhunter78 · 3 months

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Split Lips and Busted Knuckles - Nerd!Miguel

Description: A chance meeting with Miguel's half-brother Kron leads to you seeing a different side of Miguel.

Nerd!Miguel masterlist here!!

Seriously you hate men, maybe not all of them, obviously not Miguel, but a lot if not most of them, and you really fucking hate Kron. Tall, blond, an extremely punchable face and an attitude that screamed “I waste my daddy’s money on cocaine.” He was a complete and utter rich asshole. One who seemed to be intent on talking to you.

You had a Mid-18th Century History class together, and he always tried to catch you after class. Luckily, you had a few sisters in your class as well, and you could hide within the pack to avoid him. Then he tried to catch you before class, but your professor called you over, safe again. But now here in the courtyard, an open space filled with frat boys you stupidly decided to wander through on your way to meet Miguel, there was nowhere to hide.

“Y/N, hey y/n, wait up.” Kron calls, waving wildly to get your attention.

You stop and press your lips together, before putting on a fake smile. He was the social chair for KA, and you know some of your sisters have been dying to be invited to their parties. “Hey Kron, what’s up?”

He gives you a smile, one that you think is supposed to be friendly, even nonthreatening, but it gives you the creeps. “Not much, just wanted to ask you about something I heard from a few people.”

“Oh?” You rack your brain trying to come up with some semblance of an idea about what he’s talking about but come up empty.

“Yeah, I heard you’ve been hanging out with my brother.” He says, his blue eyes hold you fast, like a butterfly pinned to a board.

“Your brother? I didn’t know you had a brother.” You say, brow furrowing as you try to remember meeting someone who looks like Kron but isn’t actually Kron.

“Well, he’s my half-brother, my dad is the ultimate stud, so you know, things happen and then Miguel just showed up.” He explains, not even seeming fazed or upset that his dad had an affair.

You blink owlishly, his words echoing in your brain as you try to put two and two together. “Miguel, as is Miguel O’Hara?”

He nods, “that’s the one, weird ass nerd, he refused to join KA with me, even though I told him that’s the only way he’ll make friends.”

“He’s not weird.” You bristle, crossing your arms over your chest.

Kron holds up his hands in surrender. “Whoa, whoa, chill, I’m just saying.”

“Yeah, okay, so I’ve been hanging out with him, who cares?” You glance at your watch; you’re going to be late.

There’s a very real and slightly concerning pain in your chest at the thought of Miguel sitting alone in the student center, waiting for you like a lost puppy, thinking you abandoned him.

Kron rests a hand on your shoulder, and you fight the urge to shrug it off. “Look Miguel, he’s my half-brother and yeah, he’s fucking annoying, and a try-hard, but he’s a nice guy, too nice. Don’t waste your time with him, it’s social suicide. He’s a nobody, a fucking loser who cares more about Legos and fucking science or whatever than getting laid.”

“I really don’t care about social suicide, but thanks, I think I can make my own decisions.” You tell Kron, giving him that same, perfectly crafted customer service smile.

“Y/N, you don’t get it, I’m trying to help you. He’s a loser, back in high school, no girls gave him a chance, he’s a total virgin okay, and you need a real man.”

And there it is, the real reason Kron doesn’t want you hanging with Miguel.

“A real man, huh? Well, you know what Kron, why don’t you let me know when you’ve found one and then get back to me.” You pat his hand that’s still on your shoulder.

His face goes red, then the color drains and his eyes harden. “I’m trying to help you, bitch.”

“Appreciate it, don’t need it, thanks though.” You walk off, head held high, hands shaking in anger as you shove them in your jacket pockets.

Miguel is sitting at your normal table, the one tucked in the corner secluded and shaded by large hedges, his head in a book, his glasses slipping down his nose.

You set your stuff down and push them up, smiling at his startled look. “Hey, sorry about the wait.”

He shakes his head, pink tinting his cheeks. “No worries, I was reading up on next week’s lecture for my genetics class.

You slide into the seat across from him. “Oh yeah? Anything interesting?”

You can’t believe he’s a virgin, he’s so…hot. Your mind starts to wonder for a second, imagining what it would be like, how he’d sound, how he’d feel, the flustered look on his face when you straddle him.

He nods, and begins to explain, talking wildly with his hands, pulling you from your lewd thoughts, then he freezes, his shoulders tensing, his hands deathly still.

“Miguel? Everything alright?” You ask, casting a glance over your shoulder in the direction of his gaze.

Fucking Kron.

When Kron gets closer you yell out, “so what are you like a stalker now or something?”

He laughs, it’s that specific laugh that reeks of arrogance and an inability to see women as people. “You wish.”

“I really don’t.” You grumble, turning back to look at Miguel.

His knuckles are white, his jaw clenched, his back ramrod straight, his shoulders set back, the expanse of his chest on display as if he’s trying to make himself look bigger than he already is, which is a feat in itself. There’s a look in his eyes that sends a shiver of something akin to fear down your spine. You’ve never seen Miguel look this way, ever, it’s like you’re looking at a whole different person.

“Migs, how you doing, bro?” Kron asks, standing between you and Miguel, who both remain seated, resting his hands on the table.

“Kron.” Miguel says curtly, turning that ice-cold gaze fully onto his half-brother.

Kron rolls his shoulders back and glances at you. “I thought I told you there’s nothing to be gained from hanging with this loser.”

Your eyes flicker back to Miguel, who’s giving Kron a harsh look you can’t quite decipher, then to Kron. “And I thought I told you I can make my own decisions.”

Kron clicks his tongue. “What’s he gonna do for you, he’s a fucking virgin. Just gonna try to make you cum by explaining science facts to you? Build you a dildo out of Legos?”

You nearly choke on your own spit. “What the fuck is wrong with you?

“If you’re that desperate for dick, you can always swing by the house, I’d be more than happy—” Kron hits the ground with a strangled yelp.

Miguel is on him in seconds, fist cocked back, his back muscle rippling as he brings his fist down, again and again and again. “Di esa mierda otra vez. Dilo de nuevo, te reto a la mierda.” Trsl: Say that shit again. Say it again, I fucking dare you.

Kron manages to get one arm free and tries to grab Miguel’s face, shirt, arm, anything he can reach. “You’re fucking crazy, you and your sorority slut.” Kron lands a solid hit, and you wince at the sight of Miguel’s head turning—even if it’s ever so slightly—with the force, Kron’s smug laugh ringing through the air once more.

“You never know when to shut up, huh?” Miguel snarls, forcing Kron’s arm down with his free hand, the other connecting with Kron’s nose, a sickening crack filling the air.

The sound prompts you into action, and you ignore the way your stomach flips at Miguel’s tone, at the way he moves, like a panther, powerful, stalking its prey, delivering that fatal blow.

Be so for real y/n, you cannot be turned on right now, that’s so embarrassing.

You grab Miguel’s shoulders and try to pull him away, it’s useless, but you try anyways. “Stop, stop, you have to stop, fuck come on Miguel—if they catch you fighting on campus you could lose your scholarship.”

“Shit, okay, I yield, I’m sorry.” Kron coughs out, blood gushing from his nose as his voice joins yours.

But Miguel doesn’t stop, he’s cursing under his breath, and at Kron in Spanish, his hand bloody, Kron’s flailing helplessly in his vice grip.

You try to grab Miguel’s bicep, fear flooding your system. “Miguel, stop, please, you’re freaking me out.”

That catches his attention.

Miguel mutters something to Kron then gets up, shoving his stuff in his bag and walking away, his shoulders tense.

In shock, you grab a bunch of napkins and your things, before chasing after him.

Why is this still kinda hot? You wonder, before mentally smacking yourself upside the head.

Miguel’s legs are much longer than yours, his steps bigger, faster, and you grab onto the front pocket of his backpack, his name spilling from your lips. “Miguel, hey, wait up.”

He stops, and you drag him into a nearby alcove with a bench pressed flush against the stone wall.

You both sit and Miguel refuses to look at you, his hand and lip bloodied.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” You ask, taking his hand in yours and dabbing it with a napkin, trying to clean him up the best you can.

“I’m sorry.” Miguel says quietly, eyes downcast.

“Why?” You turn his hand over and start cleaning his palm.

“I scared you, and I—I let my anger get the best of me, I should’ve just walked away.” His eyes meet yours for a brief moment when you gently dab at his lip.

“You didn’t scare me, I mean yeah that was a little intense, but…” You trail off when you realize he’s trembling. “Hey, I’m not afraid of you, you’re Miguel, my sweet boy, who can apparently throw one hell of a punch.”

He laughs at that, albeit weakly, but it’s still a laugh.

“And Kron is an idiot, don’t listen to him.” You continue, spending maybe a bit too long cleaning Miguel’s split lip, mesmerized by him.

“I don’t care what he says about me, he’s been a jerk since we were kids, but…he can’t just—you don’t deserve that.”

You exhale forcefully out of your nose, a small, contained laugh. “He’s just a dumbass saying dumbass stuff, like really, who would build a dildo out of Legos? That would hurt like a bitch.”

“And you don’t—you’re not weirded out by what he said?” Miguel asks carefully, you can feel the embarrassed heat radiating off him.

You set the napkin down and grab his chin with one hand turning his face side to side, inspecting him. You know what he means, not the Legos, or the science facts, the virgin part. It’s such a dumb thing to make fun of someone about something you’ve always been against. Why shame someone for such a personal choice? It’s their body, they can do what they want.

Plus, it’s kinda hot, being the first one to have him? The first one who gets to hear him, see him like that? Fuck, you wish that was you. Maybe you should offer? No, no, y/n, seriously, keep it in your pants.

Once you’re done with your inspection, you turn him to face you. “No, I’m not, who cares if you have or haven’t slept with someone, it’s not a big deal. Though I am surprised, a smart, handsome, sweet guy like you? I thought you’d have tons of girls under your belt. Bunch of math and science prodigies following you around like groupies, fighting to get in your pants.”

Because that’s who Miguel deserves someone smart, someone who can keep up with him—shit pull back, you’re making yourself insecure.

Miguel ducks his head, nuzzling into your palm as a result of the movement. “Thank you, for cleaning me up, and...you know.”

You smile, heart fluttering as Miguel leans into your touch. “No problem.”

You’re in wayyyy too deep.

Virgin Miguel bitchesssss

TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhalee, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps, @chrishy973, @farrowroyale, @palesatan, @scaryplanetdestroyer

#meg's writing #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #nerd miguel #nerd!miguel #college!miguel #college!reader #sorority!reader #nerd!miguel o'hara #college au #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n

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theaceace · 4 months

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Another old fic idea that stalled somewhere between my brain and my docs, in which Hob puts centuries of life experience to use by writing an anonymous advice column (it's probably Jo's fault somehow) and recently he's been getting some... Odd submissions

My brother has recently left a very stifling living situation and is drowning himself in work. I know his pride won't let him come to me for help, but I want to let him know I'm still there for him, what do you suggest? - Endless Family Drama

It can be difficult to watch the people we love most refuse to accept our help, especially when we can see that they're hurting. The best advice I can offer you is don't push him too hard – the last thing you want to do is scare him away! Spend time with him doing something you both enjoy or rediscovering common ground, and let him come to you when he's ready. Encourage him to find the person he was before all of this, and start learning how that fits with who he is now; reconnect with old friends or pick up a hobby he hasn't tried for a while. Clearly you love your brother a great deal, and whether he's ready to admit it or not, he's lucky to have you in his corner.

Chin up, and best of luck to you both!

And what do you know, that afternoon Death happens to go find her brother feeding the pigeons.

Matthew (with Rose's help, typing is really hard when you're a bird, turns out) after a conversation with Lucienne and later a complain-and-smoke-sesh with Constantine, writes in (not knowing he's writing to the boss's friend) like

I've just started a new job, and my boss is literally a nightmare when he's in a bad mood, he drags me to hell and back, spends all his time moping and fighting with my other boss, and won't listen to any of my advice, how do I let him know I think he's being unreasonable - struggling to keep my beak shut

Eventually Dream - who is both spending much more time in the waking world and also much more inclined to listen to Matthew's advice recently, for some reason - decides to write in to ask the opinion of a human on how to. Well. How one might go about courting one of their oldest friends having just reconnected after a huge fight and period of separation.

So naturally, Hob's reply is somewhat wistful and based entirely on the way he would love to court/be courted by his old stranger (Dream! Morpheus! He's been given so many names and titles to use now, he's practically spoilt!)

Neither of them figure out what's going on for an embarrassingly long time

(Desire writes to ask how you get your brother to stop ignoring you after you've tricked him into prison ('captivity' is the word used, but Hob can read between the lines) and almost made him kill one of their relatives. Hob starts to question if this side career is a good idea)

Also, the tagline for his column would absolutely be something like I keep making the same mistakes so you don't have to! Somehow this does not clue Dream in in the slightest

#Sandman #dreamling #Hob Gadling #dream of the endless #matthew the raven #death of the endless #desire of the endless #On today's episode of 'fics I have so clearly in my head but Simply Cannot Put To Paper'

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imrllytootiredforthis · 1 year

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A Night at the Bar

Pairing: felix x reader

Pt.2 Here

Summary: A regular night out with your friends turns into something more when you meet a new kid going to your school

Warnings: fem reader, dom reader, sub felix, college!au (everyone’s 18+), dry humping (he grinds against her leg, whatever that’s called), nipple play, mommy kink, pet names, oral (f receiving), probably more that I forgot

Word Count: 6.8k

A/N: So I’ve been asked a few times of I have a taglist and I was wondering if you guys wanted me to make one? Just lmk. Anyway, as always ignore my bad grammar and possible spelling mistakes lol

18+ Minors DNI

It had been an uneventful night.

All you had really wanted to do was stay home, cuddle up in some blankets and watch a movie, maybe even make some microwave popcorn.

But, the people you decidedly called friends refused to let you spend yet another Saturday night being a quote unquote ‘hermit’, holed up in your apartment like always.

“Besides, school is starting soon! Don’t you wanna get out before you’re going to have a truckload of schoolwork to worry about?” Samantha claimed while rummaging through your closet, settling on an outfit and throwing it in your direction. “Put this on.”

So they dragged you to the new bar that opened down the street.

Music made its way outside from within, low bass pounding in your head before you even entered the place. You rubbed at your temples, grimacing at the way the headache building in the forefront of your brain throbbed in protest.

It started out fine, as it always did.

Gossiping about your classmates and teachers and updating the others on whatever happened in your life lately.

But then it got boring. And when it got boring, desperate measures were pulled out.

Your friends pestered you about turning away the guys approached you, offering you free drinks. They scrutinized you for sending away a ‘hot’ one, telling you that you needed to take charge and finally get a permanent man as opposed to your regular hook-ups.

And so they took up the challenge upon themselves.

Firstly: What was your type?

“What about him?”

“Really? He’s pretty cute.”

Secondly: Judging you base on the fact that you didn’t like any of the guys they suggested

“Him?”

“Why not?”

“Yeah, he’s fit. You must be blind if you don’t want him.”

“Like, look at those muscles, that hair!”

Thirdly: Getting mad and giving up on the game

“Well what is your type then?”

“Come on! Why are you like this? We’re just trying to have some fun! Don’t take it so personal!”

When they were done bothering you about boys like excited schoolgirls, they switched up topics and moved on to begging you to dance with them.

As the bright lights flashed leaving coloured imprints in your vision, you bluntly told them no.

The idea of dancing right now felt gross and judging by the way the sweaty bodies of the crowd moved, with gyrating hips and wandering hands. ‘Whispering’ that was almost yelling and guys on the side with drinks watching like they were searching for their next prey.

Nope. Absolutely not. You wanted no part of that and no amount of begging could make you. Refusing, you ordered another drink as they boo’d at you, fake heckling as they left.

And finally, you were alone. Well as alone as you could be in a crowded bar that was a prime way for everyone there to catch the flu, which was actually going around right now.

In fact, you shouldn’t have even left your house today. You should’ve stayed home with your blankets and popcorn and proceeded to binge watch your favourite show for the 50th time.

You wished with every ounce of your being that you could go back in time and tell yourself to never go out tonight.

You should’ve turned down your friends and stayed in the warmth and comfor-

The next thought disappeared.

It wasn’t an electric spark like movies describe attraction but it was...something. Something that caught your attention. Made you freeze in place, eyes caught, unable to look away even if you wanted to-and you didn’t want to.

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to come out here after all...

Brown-his eyes were brown.

And his blond hair was mussed as if someone had purposely shaken it up. His face was youthful-around the same age as you with adorable freckles dusting across his rosy pink cheeks and makeup probably better than your own.

Something akin to a shy smile played across lips. He licked them and looked away for a split second then back at you as if he was checking to see that it was really him you were looking at.

You smiled, he was cute.

Your friends were wondering what exactly your type was.

This.

This was your type.

The cute ones that looked softer, sweeter. Nervous with almost hint of uncertainty. Body language alone that conveyed they were gentle. A touch feminine in a way if that was an appropriate thing to say.

He lifted his hand and gave a little wave, awkward with a smile to match but endearing.

Adorable.

Yes. This one, whoever he was, was your type.

Should you gesture for him to come over? Or should you walk over?

Someone said something and his gaze left yours.

You huffed, taking another sip of your drink. Too late for that now, you thought bitterly.

But still, you couldn’t stop staring.

He was with his friends, on the opposite side of the room. Loud and practically screaming in their corner of the bar, laughing and slapping each other on the back.

You could recognize a few of them.

Chan you have a few classes with and had worked together for several group projects. The two of you exchange conversations now and then in class and you could confidently say that you were friends.

And you could pick out Seungmin and Hyunjin from past interactions or travelling word. The rest of them you could recognize from passing in the halls or seeing around in general but you couldn’t quite place names on.

But you’d never seen that one before.

Maybe he went to another college or didn’t go to one at all. Maybe he was one of their family members and was visiting.

Enough speculation, you were gonna find out.

You downed the rest of the cup and crossed the bar, shoes clicking with every step.

“Channie!”

Eyes turned to you at the use of his name and Chan laughed with a smile, opening his arms for a hug. “Y/N!”

You obliged, letting him pull you into his arms whilst trying to ignore the scent of alcohol coming in waves off of him. He hung off of you, drunkenly slurring to the others, “Guys! This is Y/N! Y/N, meet the guys!”

You jumped slightly, wincing as he yelled it in your ear. “No need to yell. I’m right here.”

Chan slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide in a comical way. “Sorry.” He whispered loudly.

“Sorry about him. He’s kinda drunk.” One of them offered.

“Thanks, I couldn’t tell.”

Someone snorted at the smirk you made and you turned to see the whole reason you’d approached in the first place.

He blushed, silver ear piercings glimmering in the dim lighting.

“Sorry, I’m not familiar with all your names.” All while you spoke the words your eyes never left him. Those ridiculously cute freckles hypnotizing you.

Chan broke the trance with his slurred speech, stumbling slightly and almost putting you straight on your ass with his weight. “That’s Han,”

He only gestured in the general direction so your only clue as to who he was pointing to was the way the man you assumed was Han waved with a bright smile.

“That’s...Hyunjin,”

You smiled with a nodded head in greeting toward him. “That’s Changbin, um Jeongin and a-” Chan gestured wildly with his hand, eyes barely staying open, “...Seungmin!”

Each waved at their name, making your life much easier as you struggled to support your friend’s weight.

Suddenly Chan got up and stumbled over to one of them. “That’s Lee Know.”

The poor boy’s eyes widened as his Chan stumbled, foot catching on nothing but thin air as he tripped over his own feet, falling straight into him, both of the boys falling to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

You nearly laughed at the pissed expression on Lee Know’s face. They were both covered in the drink he had been holding when his hyung knocked him over.

They were all rushing around you to pick up Chan, unpinning the other boy from under him while the others went to the bar to ask for napkins to try and clean the mess up.

The chaos ensued and you tried your best to help but in the end you ended up just standing there, watching on the sidelines as the others handled in cleaning everything.

“I’m Felix.”

You hadn’t realized he was that close until he’d spoken, close enough that you could feel his warm breath against your neck and smell of mint and beer in his breath.

At your flinch, he chuckled awkwardly, laugh deep just like his voice. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you...It’s just that Chan-um,” his stutter increased when you turned to look at him. The weight of your steely gaze settled on him once more sending chills down his spine. “I uh, -sorry what’s your name?”

You laughed, a beautiful sound.

He wanted to make you do it again.

Felix hadn’t wanted to go to the bar that night either.

The others had said they were gonna show him around tonight, just give him the basic run-down of where everything was but then Han had pointed out that this place had just opened.

The next thing he knew, they were in the bar, drinking and laughing.

And it wasn’t that he didn’t like partying or going out like the rest of his friends, he just didn’t want to go out specifically tonight.

The area was new and he’d much rather explore the rest of the city than be here in a loud sticky bar. Sure he’d visited a few times and could recognize a few streets but now he was moving here to pursue his dancing career. He needed to at least know how to get to school on his own before it started.

“I’m Y/N, as Chan said.” God, he wanted to cry. Here he was, talking to you, someone beautiful and most likely out of his league. Acting like a blushing schoolboy with his first crush.

“O-oh yeah, what Chan said. I’ve had a few drinks tonight-I’m really sor-”

“-no need to keep apologizing Love, it’s okay.” you purred, smirking at the way he blushed, eyes averting as he subconsciously licked his lips.

“I was wondering if you could uh, drive Chan and I home? I’m bunking with him right now and well both of us have had a few drinks...”

You pursed your lips. “Why doesn’t one of the others take you then?”

Felix’s eyes widened as he scrambled for an answer. “Well-...they are going to their own place for the night.”

It was a lame excuse and he knew it. You knew it. Anyone who heard it would know it. But nonetheless, you were going to do it as long as you got to stay with the pretty boy a little bit longer.

“Okay.” You looked over the swaying bodies to see Chan being supported by Han and Seungmin with his arms swung around their shoulders.

“I think that we should leave soon before the poor boys are left permanently deaf.” You pointed out, Felix’s attention turning towards the way his roommate was screaming into the two boy’s ears.

“I agree.”

It wasn’t easy attempting to get the older boy’s nearly limp sluggish body into your car.

The entire time he screamed about random topics such as what he ate for lunch yesterday and raving about how much he loved Seungmin, who told him to shut up as he clipped on the seatbelt.

Felix started to get into the passenger before you stopped him, throwing a paper bag at him. “Nope, you’re in the back making sure Channie here doesn’t make a mess in my car.”

Reluctantly, he got into the back. A sad expression, reminding you of a kicked puppy plastered across his face.

The car ride was loud, with Chan shouting unintelligible nonsense and Felix apologizing to you over and over with you telling him to shut up and stop apologizing.

Three stops for Chan to barf on the side of the street and what could’ve been a ten minute drive that resulted in an almost half an hour drive because Felix barely knew his way there, later you finally arrived at their house.

Together, you and Felix lugged him to his room. His body weighing on your like a bundle of bricks.

As soon as he saw his bed your friend flopped backwards onto it with the coordination and gracefulness of a baby deer walking for the first time.

“Should we do anything else? Dress him or something?” You wondered aloud as he promptly fell asleep, not so quiet snores leaving him.

“Nah, he should be fine.” He led you out of Chan’s room and into the kitchen which was opened to connect with the living room.

He rummaged around, gesturing for you to sit on the barstool which you graciously obliged. “You hungry for anything?”

“I’m good, baby. I should probably actually get going.” You pulled out your phone, sending a quick text to your friends who bombarded you with messages and voicemails wondering where you were. Too wrapped up in that to see the way he froze at the name.

He didn’t want to admit how the names you called him affected him.

Didn’t want to admit the fantasies that ran through his head when he heard you say them, rolling smoothly off your tongue.

Baby, Love, you called him those and they all made him so, so needy. Needy for you. For you to whisper them to him as he sat on his knees between your legs, gripping his hair between your fingers, controlling his movements the way you wanted to.

The thought was enough to get him hardening. He internally cursed himself, hoping you wouldn’t notice.

You looked up to only see him frowning, “No! Don’t go.” You slid your phone into your bag, jaw clenching.

Had it been any other situation you would’ve said yes. Any other random guy’s house you would’ve probably already been on top of him, finding all of those places that would make him cry out in pleasure.

But he was drunk. And you were still level-headed enough to know that it would be wrong for you to do anything with him in that state.

“I think I should, both of you guys are good now.” You got up from the seat, slipping your bag over your shoulder, giving him a friendly smile to mask the want that you were sure was apparent in your expression.

He crossed the kitchen, leaving the leftovers he’d pulled out of the fridge, getting close. “Please don’t go.” The small whine in his words left you wanting to shove him against the kitchen counter and wreck him here and now.

He was drunk. That was that and you weren’t going to do anything but you were still curious. “Why should I stay?”

His mouth opened then closed. Eyes falling down to your lips, trailing farther down to what would be considered indecent before snapping back to your face.

“What would you say if I asked you to kiss me?” He asked so innocently with a big pout, bottom lip jutted out.

His eyes told an entirely different story as his face, lust blown pupils wide enough to swallow the entire iris of his pretty brown eyes.

You moved closer to him. Close enough to count the individual freckles on his face. “I’d say you were drunk.”

His frown deepened and he moved backwards, grabbing your arms to pull you with him until the couch hit the back of his knees and slowly, without breaking eye contact he laid back…

With that, he looked down to the wrist he was holding before lifting your hand up to those pretty pouted lips, slipping your middle and pointer finger into his warm wet mouth.

His head cocked to the side as he wrapped his legs around your hips making you stumble right up against him and his very obvious hard-on.

Holy fuck.

A hot liquid tension filled the room and you tried to restrain yourself from jumping him then and there. “You’re drunk Felix.”

But god, the way your fingers felt in his mouth, wet tongue laving around them before lapping; a lewd sucking sound that had you clenching around nothing, almost taking over your rationality as he took your digits farther down as if he was trying to deepthroat them.

Unlatching from you he looked up, eyes serious albeit still wide with want. “I’m not drunk. I swear.”

“How many drinks did you have tonight?”

“Two.” He thrusted against you and you bite your lip to keep the moan at bay.

“Are you sure?”

He sat up, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “Yes.” A stray whimper left him, the noise shooting arousal straight between your legs. “I sobered up in the car. I promise.”

Your bag slipped off your shoulder and fell to the floor as his thrusts continued. Heavy pants and whines leaving him in earnest at the friction his tight pants provided as he ground against you.

It was getting increasingly harder to not shove him back onto the couch but you needed to be absolutely sure. “Are you a hundred percent positive Lix? Don’t lie to me just because you want me to fuck you, Love.”

You could feel him shiver at your words, ignoring all but the last one. His plush lips moving against your throat, biting and licking your heated skin causing a traitorous moan to leave you with a gasp.

“Felix.” Your fingers laced into his hair, pulling him back to look at you.

He let out a helpless cry. From being pulled away from you, from the delicious feeling of you pulling his hair, from the way your other hand held his hips down preventing him from moving.

“Are you absolutely sure? We can do this another time if you are but don’t lie to me just because you wanna get your dick wet right now.”

You didn’t tell him that was a lie. That you most likely wouldn’t seek him out again but you needed to be sure if you were going to do anything with him tonight.

His hips desperately tried to move in vain at the grip you had on him, hard enough to leave bruises on his pale flesh. “I promise! ‘M sober!”

You leaned ever so closer, the tips of your noses touching. The feel of his warm breath against your lips. If you moved ever so slightly...your lips would touch his. “Then what do you want me to do baby?”

A glassy sheen covered his eyes as he whined.

“Please.”

And just like that you could hear the sound of your willpower snapping clean in two.

Tilting your head to slot your lips against his. He whimpered out, your fingers growing ever so tighter in his hair as the other switched from holding his hips in place to setting them at a pace to grind hard and quick against you.

His mouth opened wider, allowing more access for your tongue to slip inside. Your moans rang out in sync, breathless and wanting as his heels dug into your back trying to pull you impossibly closer into him.

Arms move around your neck, clinging so helplessly, so wanting, as if he thought that if he let go of you now you’d disappear out of thin air and leave him here all alone.

You kissed him raw and hard until you had no choice but to pull away from lack of air, leaving his lips with a bite to his bottom one while dragging him by his hair away.

There’s spit glistening all over his lips and a blush coats his face and neck, already looking so fucked out. “Love,” an involuntary shiver ran through him, almost violent through his vulnerable state. “Lift your arms for me.”

He obeys with no question, unlatching from around your neck to raise them above his head, letting you lift the hem of his shirt over and throw it somewhere forgotten on the floor.

“Lay back kitten.”

The name is received with a mewl, almost exactly as like a cats and he nods quickly, you feel his heart race under your touch, breath heaving faster. His legs loosen but don’t let go as he falls back onto the couch.

And fuck, you wish you could take a picture.

Make a painting out of it. The beauty of it rivalling the finest of the renaissance. You’d hang it up where only you could see it, remembering each time you looked at it the way he looks here and now forever. Look back at it and see how utterly gorgeous he was.

Yes, this was exactly your type.

Felix bit his kiss-bruised lips, blond hair highlighted against the black fabric of the coach. You let out a soft groan to see that the freckles continued down his chest, littering all over his chest and shoulders.

“Shit, kitten. ‘M gonna ruin you.”

The words were meant to be smooth but they came out nearly a moan as you leaned over him to trace your nails along the spots and his pretty pink nipples, watching with a smirk of satisfaction as he squirmed under you, loose whimpers and restrained moans coming from him as you rubbed the buds, quickly turning into hard peaks from your ministrations.

“So sensitive aren’t you? ‘S anyone else ever played with your nipples before baby?”

He gave you no reply. Too caught up in the moment, too lost in the new sensations you were gifting him. Too dumbed down to the pleasure to control the words falling from his lips. “Please Momm-.”

Just barely catching himself, he tensed, eyes flashing to look up at you, hoping you didn’t notice the words or the reaction to them he had.

He’d never meant to call someone that in bed before. Much less you, beautiful and somehow willing to give him a chance.

Sure, he’d felt like saying it tons of times before. With his past girlfriend he’d accidentally called her it while he’d been thrusting into her in missionary. She was submissive just like him and had just called him daddy. They’d both already known about their similarities and had just rolled with whatever happened in the moment but apparently this was too far for her and she’d broken up with him because of it.

What would you think? Call him a freak and leave? Leave him now, all needy and horny. Spread out on the couch like this?

The thought was enough for his thighs to tighten around you, pushing you to put your entire weight onto him. He didn’t want you to leave, couldn’t even stand the thought.

You stopped. Stopped your thrusts. Stopped the way your fingers danced along his chest in a way that made his head spin in the best possible way. Stopped it all and a voice deep inside his brain screamed in protest, his head burying into your neck, hoping to anything that you wouldn’t leave him.

“I asked you a question, Felix.”

His head was hazy. He couldn’t remember what you’d said, didn’t even think he’d heard the question in the first place.

Luckily, you spared the poor boy, pulling him back to look at you.

Shit, here it comes. You’re gonna call him disgusting and gross which he could handle if you wouldn’t look at him with those disgusted eyes that made him want to cry and not in a good way.

But you don’t say those words?

Instead what comes out of those perfect lips is, “Do you want Mommy to make you feel good baby?”

Was he dreaming? He felt like in he was in a dream.

That same voice from before shrieked in happiness.

“Yes! Please Mommy! Need you, ah!” His fingers gripped onto your hair as your lips latched around one of his hardened buds, nipping slightly before sucking. “Ha! God! Please, fe-feel so good, don’t-don’t stop, please Mommy!” He sobbed.

His words had heat zinging straight to your core and you began grinding against him harder and harder, trying satiate that ache settling between your legs.

He watched in a lust-filled fascination, trying to keep his eyes from rolling into the back of his skull, trying to keep his tongue from hanging out of his mouth as strands of drool dripped down his chin. But he couldn’t keep back the breathy incoherent pleas, mixtures of faster and slower and close and mommy that had you clenching around nothing.

You could tell he was close, very close. Not only from the way he chanted it, repeating the words over and over like they were the only things left in that pretty head of his. But also by the way his breathing grew erratic, his pulse hammering and fluttering in his chest against your lips.

And then...and then it...stopped?

He whimpered at the sudden loss of stimulation, eyes flying open to stare at you, glittering with unshed tears and confusion. They searched yours, as if he could figure out why you stopped in the depth of them. And he could. The teasing light in them. An inward smirk as he cried out and rutted up against you, trying to chase the high that was quickly dissipating.

Your finger still traced over his pecs, soothing and tantalizing all the same. “W-why’d you stop?” He whined in frustration at your lack of movement.

Red splotches that you know will turn to purple bruises covered the expanse of his chest. Such a pretty visual just for you to see.

Just for you, no one else. Your little toy to play with and ruin, to use for your pleasure and he’ll love it all the same.

Sweat and saliva covered him-both yours and his. It was gross and lewd and fucking hot.

“Jus’ wanna play with you for a bit, baby? Don’t you wanna let Mommy feel good too, Lixie?”

He nodded with vigor, chest still heaving and hips still subtly trying to press up against you which you let slide from the way that sparks of pleasure shot up your spine.

“Yes Mommy, Lixie wants to make you feel good too...” His voice was higher now and he paused as if trying to decide whether if he should continue or not. “Could I...um...”

You tilted his chin up and nodded for him to continue. “Could I eat you out...?” He was so quiet you nearly missed the question but decided to spare him from repeating himself as you bit your lip to feign thinking.

“Aww, does baby wanna taste Mommy?” Despite the teasing lilt, he nodded, earrings jingling with the movement.

You smiled and let your hand ghost down his neck, feeling his throat bob under your hand. Milky skin soft and smooth, practically begging to be marked up by you.

Finally after what felt like forever of teasing touches and small kisses, working him up only to back away once his moans got loud.

You repeated it several times before pulling away completely. Felix whined in protest, making desperate grabby hands at you as your hands untwined his legs from around your waist.

“Be a good boy for me and get on your knees baby.”

His whines quieted down at that. And he slid off the couch, falling to his knees on the hardwood floor eagerly wide-eyed.

His hands folding behind his back, looking up at you with a pleading look, completing the perfect picture of obedience.

‘Just when I thought he couldn’t get any prettier,’ you mused, letting yourself sink back into the couch, spreading your legs to make room for the boy.

It was so hard to restrain yourself from ravaging him then and there, edging him until he cried from the pleasure, begging you to stop and let him cum and still ignoring him.

Going on and on until you decided that he had enough.

You beckoned him toward you and with no hesitation he was scooting closer and pressing his face sweetly against your lower stomach, looking up at you in a silent ask of permission.

He shudders against between your legs as your hand reaches down to play with his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp. Eyes shut in bliss he begins to nose against you. "Please."

It’s a whine-a plea, a beg to let him give you pleasure.

“Yes,”

The warm, comforting smile he gives as he stares up at you makes your heart skip a beat.

Tantalizingly slow, he tugs at the waistband of your pants, lifting yourself up so the fabric falls to pool around your ankles. And with an ungraceful pull, they’re landing somewhere across the room to find later on.

A shudder runs down your spine as you feel his hot breath lightly ghosting across you. And with open-mouthed kisses and nudges he slowly parts your legs, coaxing you to vocalize how good it feels.

He looks unsure.

And he is. He hasn’t done this in awhile, doesn’t really remember what to do. His eyes flash up in quick glances to to see your face, trying to decipher if you enjoy what he’s doing or not.

A soft moan escapes your lips as he teases you, nipping and mouthing everywhere but where you need him most. But you can’t tell if it’s from inexperience.

Then your eyes catch him and you can tell by the way he periodically glances up at you between licks, stopping when you seem to be enjoying it that it’s a kind of payback from your teasing earlier.

“Lix.” You warn, a subtle edge in your voice telling him to hurry up.

He stops with a whine, unable to do anything but melt against the comfort of your plush thighs. He wishes that he could stay like this forever you, devouring you and hearing the way you praise him and-

“Lix.” You warn again, voice hardening as your hips start to push towards him in slow restrained grinds.

He pauses to look up at you with hearts in his eyes before his attention moves back down, watching, heart pounding and cock throbbing as evidence of your arousal drips down your skin and onto the fabric of the couch; practically salivating.

Growing too impatient with him, you grip his hair and shove his face into your pussy, throwing your head back with a moan as his tongue begins to eagerly lap at you.

He whines into you, the vibrations provoking a drawn-out groan that has something bubbling up deep inside you.

“Mm, such a good little slut for me kitten.” Breath hitching as his lips wrap around your clit, sucking gently. “Yes~”

His ever-willing need to please you, he shifts closer and pulls one leg over his shoulder allowing him to more access of you. At this you can do nothing but bite your lip and find purchase in his silky smooth hair, digging your fingers-almost painfully-into his scalp.

It doesn’t faze him, if anything it makes him go harder as he continues to lick you, alternating between deep thrusts of his warm muscle into you and harsh tonguing around the bundle of nerves.

“Oh, yes baby. You’re doing so good, ha, making me feel s-so good kitten,” He whimpers at the praise, the vibrations pulling a deep groan that has him palming himself over his pants.

You’d greatly underestimated the skills of the boy. A tongue on him like no other that had you gasping for air.

With your fingers already intertwined in his hair it’s easy to pull him away from you. He whines and tries in vain to bury his face into your pussy again but it’s your steely grip that prevents him as his long tongue sticks out, far as it can go.

He pouts with a long whine, “Mommy...”

You’re breathless at the view, him between your legs, your leg hitched over his shoulder, bottom lip jutted out, his face covered in your juices as he shamelessly bucks into his hand.

It’s positively erotic.

You don’t say a thing, drinking him in. Before you finally challenge, “If you can make me come before you do,” gesturing toward his little problem, “then I’ll let you come. If you don’t...” you shrug, letting the challenge hang in the air, waiting with a bated breath to see his reaction.

Nodding once, quick and determined he dives back in with a new fervor, lapping and licking all around you. Whining and whimpering, gasping breaths and making noises out of some kind of cheap submissive boy porn, desperate in his mission to please you.

And it isn’t long until you’re gasping as well. Sucking gulps of air into your breathless lungs, lightheaded as waves of pleasure pulse through your veins and flood throughout your body.

Praises and degrading terms fall from your lips, calling him a good boy, your little toy, your precious baby, your slut, your Lixie. Marvelling at how he’s so willing to please, acting like a whore as he gets hard from just tasting you.

Telling him how good he’s making you feel, mindless blabber that he eats up, moaning into you and rutting harder against his hand, hanging onto your every word.

He’s close, he knows it and he knows that you are too. The way your legs tense around him and your words raise higher in pitch. Telling him not to stop, that you’re close, that he’s your good little kitten

And that’s all he wants to be.

In this vey moment all he wants to be is a perfect little brainless toy for you, pleasing you, craving your touch and aching for your hands on his body.

One last suck to your clit and you come with a cry, fisting his hair tightly. That mixed with the way your thighs tremble and clench around his head, holding him in place. He nearly comes too, mewling causing shockwaves of overstimulation to run through you.

It takes a few minutes for you to come down, finally releasing his head and petting his hair.

Only to realize the way he humps up against your leg. Tongue hanging out, thrusting like a bitch in heat as he moves faster and faster, chasing his high.

But he doesn’t expect you to meet his thrusts, pushing your foot to meet him, he lets out a loud gasp, palming at your legs for more. “Look at you, baby,” you coo, hand slithering down to press against his lips.

He opens, inviting your digits in with little prompting, resuming in his efforts. “Such a pretty little kitten for me...” your other legs slips off his shoulder, planting it more suitably against the ground. “Getting off on my leg like a little kitty in heat aren’t you?”

Frustrated tears slip down the angles of his face, farther ruining his already smudged makeup as a gargled moan slips out around your fingers.

The thought of the blushing cute boy you met eyes with a the bar, contrasting to the one you see now. On his knees below you, humping your leg at an earnest pace as those pretty brown eyes you intensely stared at earlier slip back and finally shut. In fact, his entire head slips back. Blunt nails dig into the soft skin of your leg and high pitched whines vibrate in his throat.

He can hardly think and hardly wants to.

Felix wants nothing more than to be reduced only to the mind-numbing ache pulsing heavy between his legs. Nothing but pleasure and sensation, overwhelming and all-consuming.

The feel of you comforting him through, fingers pressing firm on his tongue while the other rubs over his throat and jaw. He’s finally free to. To lose himself in it all knowing that you’ll be just as happy to watch him falling apart because you know it’s happening because of you.

“Come whenever you need to kitten. Mommy’s gonna take care of you. S’okay.” And he lets go with whimper, clinging to your leg like a lifeline, comforted knowing that you’re there the whole way through.

Nothing compares to this feeling; floating as waves of ecstasy wash over him unyielding and harsh, making his toes curl and stealing the breath from his lungs like he was winded.

The sight is gorgeous. Thrusts not stopping even in his peak, unconscious as he whines from self-inflicted overstimulation.

You watch, breath hitched as his pants darken with his release.

Gradually, he comes back, grimacing at the uncomfortable sensation. It’s cute, the way he pouts.

His eyes are still dazed as you gesture for him to come sit with you and on wobbly legs he does. Laying on top of you with his chin propped up on your chest to look at you.

“Thank you.” He whispers.

You pet his hair, pushing the sweaty strands back and wiping away the tear stains on his cheeks. “No need to thank me, Lixie. If anything I should be thanking you.”

He looks at you, smiling wide with metaphorical heart-eyes and you could feel the blush rising on your skin.

“Wanna take a shower? I dunno about you but I think I really need one right about now.” Your strokes stop to cup his warm cheek, thumb swiping under his eye.

“Yeah, just gimme a moment to remember how to walk.” Both of you lightly chuckle, his voice back to its deep cadence.

After you lay in his bed, hair wet and wrapped in a towel, his fluffy from you blow-drying it.

His light snores fill the room, having fallen asleep as soon as his body hit the bed. You couldn’t blame him after such strenuous activities.

Now he lays, tucked against your chest. His body is curled up as if he wanted to feel as small as possible with your arms wrapped around him and body cradling his.

For the first time in a long time you felt...happy?

Normally after sex you there was little to no words, much less cuddling exchanged afterward. You’d offered in the beginning but after being rejected several times, left alone with them scurrying out of your apartment immediately after, you’d stopped asking. You didn’t kick them out but just didn’t ask, always allowing them to have the option of whatever this was but no one had ever taken you up on it.

But you decided it was nice. It was a strange experience that left you feeling fuzzy and warm inside. You could get use too-

Cold ice replaced the new fondness you felt.

This feeling, the feeling you’d felt budding the entire night-you’d never think you’d feel it again-much less for a one-night stand.

It was a big and overwhelming feeling as you looked to the sleeping man in your arms, looking like a sweet angel even in his slumber.

You felt a sudden urge to lean down and kiss him on the forehead, tuck back the loose strands of hair that fell across his face, trace your fingers over the complexion of freckles on his-

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Suddenly the room felt unbearably hot, smothering you until you could barely breath properly.

You needed to get out of here. Now.

Felix woke up the next morning with a yawn, stretching like a cat and reaching over to...?

He flipped over and...you were gone? The bed was cold. You’d been gone for a while. Maybe, you’d just gone to the bathroom or-

Felix threw the covers off and jumped out of bed, quickly throwing on some clothes before walking out of his room.

Maybe you’d be in the kitchen, making breakfast or drinking coffee. You’d greet him with a soft smile and a ‘Good morning sunshine!’

His fantasy was short-lived as all he found was Chan in the kitchen, sitting with a glass of water and a piece of toast on the barstool-the same one that you’d sat on last night.

Chan looked up as he entered the room. “Morning.” He nodded, lacking the nice way your voice rolled when you spoke, making shivers run down his spine.

“Morning.” Felix couldn’t coat the disappointment in his reply.

Luckily, Chan sensed nothing out of the ordinary as he continued eating, taking another bite before swallowing. “By the way, don’t care if you bring someone home but keep it down next time will you? You woke me and probably the entire apartment complex up.”

He froze and turned to look at the older man, blush coating his face, “O-oh, you uh, heard that huh?”

He snorted. “You could say that. I heard a lot of things I didn’t want nor need to hear last night.”

“Stoooop!” Felix covered his pink cheeks with his hands.

He was never going to be able to ever live this down.

Chan shrugged with a smirk before as if trying to be casual, clearing his throat. “So, (Y/N) huh?”

His ears perked at her name. “Yeah...by the way, did you see her leaving this morning? She just left without waking me up or anything...”

Taking another bite, he shook his head wordlessly. “Nope. Besides, she doesn’t really date much. Isn’t really the type to wake the other party up when she leaves more like leave the bed cold-or so I’ve heard.”

At the way Felix’s face dropped at the accuracy of his situation Chan stuttered, trying to backtrack. “Uh, I-i mean-you never know! I can...give you her number, send her a quick text to check up y’know.”

“Ah, no that’s okay.”

Chan nodded awkwardly. “Do you want me to show you around today? School starts soon and you should really learn your way around.”

Distracted in the way he mechanically got water from the tap, Felix replied without even looking up at his hyung. “Yeah, yeah. Sure, we can do that. Not like I have anything better to do.”

A/N: Sorry about my little obsession w/ Felix’s freckles but like, how could you not? I left this open for a pt.2 so lmk if you wanna see that, my requests are open and the rules are here

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