#if you only had one outfit to live off of

[nhlclover]

into you | ryan leonard

word count: 1.43k

summary: all you want to know is if ryan's into you.

warnings: drinking, cursing, touching? nothing explicit though, kissing

notes: based on 'into you' by ariana grande. okay so i wrote this mostly in a single evening and it seemed to get me out of a writing slump so i hope you guys enjoy!

I'm so into you, I can barely breathe And all I wanna do is to fall in deep But close ain't close enough 'til we cross the line, So name a game to play, and I'll roll the dice.

You adjusted the bottom of your dress, pulling it down a little more so that you didn’t accidentally expose yourself. You step into the bustling environment, scanning the room for your friends. You come up empty, only spotting two different couples dry-humping each other and a very intense game of pong happening in the middle of the room. You’d rather be anywhere but here right now if not for the fact that Ryan specifically asked you to come. And it’s hard to say no to Ryan…

“Oh, there’s a party at Michaels frat tonight. Come with?” Ryan asked, throwing an arm around the back of your chair.

“Gross, I hate frats.” You groan.

“Yeah but you like to party with me so…” Ryan says, giving you a cheeky grin.

God, it was hard to say no to Ryan. His boyish grin and the twinkle in his eyes that accompanied it had you weak in the knees. When his eyes lock with yours, you feel your breath leave your lungs. His presence alone had the power to render you speechless. You’re so into him to the point it almost hurts. A sweet dull ache.

“Fine.” You cave. Ryan responds by leaning over to you and pressing a sloppy kiss on your cheek.

An arm snakes around your waist, pulling you out of your brief daydream and into a strong frame. “Hi.” He says softly into your ear.

You instantly recognize the voice as Ryan’s, stopping you from elbowing what you thought was a handsy frat brother in the stomach. When you turn to face him, Ryan nearly groans out loud when he sees your outfit. Your legs looked endless in your black mini-skirt, and Ryan knew he’d have to force himself to keep his eyes off your chest behind a tight black t-shirt. God, you looked good. So good. Your cheeks burn as his eyes trace your figure.

“You look great.” Ryan says, a lazy grin on his lips.

You fight off a wide grin that threatens your own. “Thank you.”

You consistently found yourselves close to crossing the line, teetering on the edge of friendship. But never had either of you worked up the courage to cross said line. Your connection was a dance, a delicate balance of shared jokes, shared moments, and the lingering touches that left them both wondering. You yearned to cross the line, waiting for the moment that Ryan would make a move.

Oh, baby, look what you started, the temperature's rising in here Is this gonna happen? Been waiting and waiting for you to make a move Before I make a move.

“C’mon, the boys are back here.” Ryan says, taking your hand in his and pulling you towards the back of the house.

You arrive in a living area, spotting Ryan’s teammates scattered on two couches. The pair of you sit down in empty spots, squeezing next to each other so that your legs are pressed up against one another.

Ryan seamlessly joined the boys’ conversation as they discussed hockey. You found yourself half listening in on their argument, which consisted of whether or not the President's Trophy curse is real. Mid-sentence, Ryan’s hand finds its way onto your knee, sending a jolt of electricity down your spine. Your heart raced as you glanced down at his calloused fingers resting lightly on your skin, the contrast between their rough texture and the softness of your knee sending a shiver down your spine. Despite the ongoing conversation around you, your mind was solely focused on the physical contact. He began to trace gentle, rhythmic circles on the inside of your knee, your mind turning to mush. His hand lingered there for a moment before his touch ventured higher. With each inch slowly gained, your mind raced with questions, a manic but silent dialogue echoing in your thoughts.

Was this the moment you had been waiting for? Was this the culmination of all the unspoken pining the pair of you had shamelessly done? Or was this just a continuation of the dance the two of you had been doing?

Every fiber of your being yearned for clarity, for resolution, for an end to the game of push and pull that had consumed your relationship. You wanted nothing more than to be done with the tiptoeing and the skirting around the edges of what could be.

So, baby, come light me up, and, baby, I'll let you on it A little bit dangerous, but, baby, that's how I want it A little less conversation and a little more touch my body 'Cause I'm so into you, into you, into you.

Ryan’s hand squeezing your knee pulls you out of your thoughts, and back to the present moment. Your eyes flicked to his face, meeting his expecting gaze.

“Did I miss something?” You ask, your voice tinged with embarrassment. “I kind of spaced out for a second.”

Ryan’s chuckle washes over you, his boyish smile appearing on his lips and melting away the lingering unease. “It’s okay,” Ryan reassures you. “I just asked if you wanted something to drink.”

“Oh, sorry,” You reply, a blush creeping on your cheeks. “Uh, sure. I’ll come with you though.”

Standing up, Ryan extends a hand, helping you up from the couch. He tells his friends the two of you will be right back, leading you to the kitchen with a delicate hand on your back. His hand sits dangerously low on your back, his touch sending a shiver down your spine despite the oppressive heat in the house due to the amount of people.

Stepping into the kitchen, you find yourself alone with Ryan for the first time this evening. The atmosphere shifts, the ambient noise of the party fading into the background.

“What are you feeling?” He asks, motioning to the supply of alcohol on the counter.

“Are you playing bartender?” You ask, teasingly.

“Yeah, sit back. I’m great at this.” He says, supplying a wink. You chuckle softly, hopping up onto the counter.

“Alright, since you’re so great at this… I’ll let you pick my drink.” You say.

You watch as Ryan grabs two cups, pouring tequila and orange juice into both of them, before handing you one of them. “That’s it?” You ask.

“Babe, it’s a frat house, what did you expect a frozen margarita?” Ryan teases, slotting himself between your legs. The use of a pet name as well as the feeling of his hand back on your knee make your heart skip a beat.

You fall into conversation, telling each other random stories from throughout the week. You find yourselves talking seamlessly, punctuated by shared laughter. With each refill of your drink, you feel the inhibition that had been weighing on you slip away and be replaced by liquid courage.

Emboldened by the alcohol, you reach out, running a hand through Ryan’s dark locks. The conversation comes to a standstill as he eyes your face, locking in on the playful grin on your lips.

“Why haven’t you made a move?” You ask. Your words hang in the air between you two like a dare.

It isn’t until Ryan suddenly straightens up and your hand falls from his hair, that you realize how close he’d gotten. His brow furrows, Ryan’s expression briefly clouding with uncertainty. He stays silent so you continue, wanting answers.

“I’ve been waiting and waiting for you to make a move.” You say, a little chuckle slipping off your tongue. “And I can’t wait anymore. I need to know. I need to know if you’re into me.”

Without a word, he closes the distance between the two of you, capturing your lips in a kiss. His mouth is warm, lips firm as they kiss yours. You don’t hesitate to melt into him, tasting the tequila and orange juice on his lips. His hands land on your thighs, gripping them tightly. A soft whimper leaves your lips when his tongue brushes against your bottom lip, and then slides inside your mouth.

For a heartbeat, everything else ceases to exist and it’s just you and Ryan stranded in a moment in time. Every sense of yours feels heightened. The heat of his body pressing against yours, the rhythm of his heartbeat echoing in your ears.

The kiss finally breaks, the both of you out of breath from the shared moment of passion. Ryan’s soft eyes stay locked on yours as he brings a hand up to your face, cupping your cheek.

“I’m so fucking into you.” He says softly.

#ryan leonard #ryan leonard x reader #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagine #boston college #bc hockey #washington capitals

[xanaxspritz]

an: a continuation of these perv!nanami headcanons. im a journalist for my work and i had so many deadlines this past week. sorry for slight inactivity !!!

synopsis: nanami knew he was in trouble when you mentioned you were a virgin. he's been obsessed with bedding you ever since then

cw: perv!nanami, creampie, overstimulation, slight power imbalance, virgin afab! reader

nanami felt his own heart pounding when he opened the his apartment door for you. you looked so sweet, so delicate in the mini soft pink sundress you wore. your lips upturned into that shy flirty smile of yours that always drove him crazy. you looked good enough for him to eat whole.

he wondered if his intentions had been clear enough when he invited you over for the first time. unknowingly or not, you teased him relentless for weeks and weeks, from batting your doe eyes at him to slowly, day by day, showing up to his office at work in a much more revealing outfit than yesterday. you made him mad with lust.

and now he has you squirming on his couch, panties soaked and pulled aside with his thick fingers sliding in and out of you, thumb rubbing on top of your clit.

"that's it princess. you're doing so good," he says softy into your thigh, digging his fingers even deeper inside you. "need to stretch you out first."

"p-please i can't..." you mewl out. "it feels too g-good!"

"i know, i know. don't fight it, stay with me love." he reassures. determined to give you your first orgasm, he took out his digits and fully removed your pretty pink panties, diving into your wet heat, savoring and licking up all your deliciousness. the deep heat you felt down inside blossomed into a bright, mind numbing feeling that took over your whole being, as if you were floating on a cloud.

"good?" he asked.

you nodded, your head in a haze. never in your life have you felt this good, and you didn't want him to stop.

"im going to fuck you now. okay?"

"o-okay..." you watch him strip down to boxers, wondering how much trouble you would be in taking his girthy length.

"just relax," he whispers hovering on top of you, throwing your legs over his shoulders.

you felt his tat tip rubbing at your slick entrance, feeling every inch of him slide into you until he was fulling seated. it felt like he was slowly ripping you apart.

"kento, it hurts..." you whine.

"shh..ill go slow."

your pussy was intoxicating, so tight and snug around his cock, like a fitted glove. the fact that he was even fucking your little virgin pussy made him want to cum instantly, but he refrained, fucking deep long stokes into you.

"so fucking good," he moaned. "like you were made for me."

your eyes started to roll into the back of your head with pleasure as each stroke of his fat cock filled your pussy up. the living room filled with your soft whimpers and moans that made nanami's cock impossibly harder.

"i want to cum in your sweet little pussy. will you let me?"

too much of a daze, you nodded your head yes. loads and loads of his warm cum filled deep inside your womb. nanami pulled out, leaving the rest of the sticky substance to drip on to your inner thighs.

you didnt realize how tight you were gripping nanami's shoulders until he pulled off you, red finger marks rippled along his collarbones.

still fucked out, you rolled into his arms, where he holds you so dearly as if you were a piece of fine china he was scared to drop.

"good girl," he mumbled into your hair. "taking my cock so perfectly."

next time he would fuck you even harder, faster. he wanted to absolutely drunk on his cock, like it was only thing you knew. and since he was so blessed to be the one to take your virginity, he wouldn't let anyone else inside you.

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami smut #nanami kento smut #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #kento nanami #nanami x fem!reader

[sister-lucifer]

Eager Hands On Soft Flesh

Ticci Toby x Chubby!Transmasc!Reader 

My half of a trade with @pompeiisystem !

Genre: Smut

Summary: After you let slip that you’ve got your fair share of insecurities about your body, Toby simply can’t pass up the opportunity to appreciate every bit of you. 

Content/Warnings: Body worship, Reader’s body is focused on but I specifically chose NOT to use the word “fat,” Reader is insecure about their weight but Toby is there for reassurance, fucking against the kitchen counter, unprotected penis in trans masc vagina sex, fingering, oral sex (reader receiving), messy pussy eating, cumming inside, praise, use of “cunt,” “pussy,” and similar variations to describe Reader’s genitalia, Toby has a dick piercing but it’s only briefly mentioned 

“Toby, be honest, do you think this outfit would look better if I…you know, lost some weight?”

The sudden lurch of his body followed by sputtering and coughing as he chokes on his drink makes you jump. Your eyes widen a bit as you watch him struggle to regain his composure, wiping his mouth and trying not to spit. His tongue clicks involuntary, neck jerking in all directions as he tries to process what he’s just heard. 

“Wh— W-What the hell are you t-talkin’ about?” He stammers, speaking through the discomfort of off brand soda in his windpipe. 

“I just mean…you know,” You reply, suddenly feeling sheepish as you look down at the crimson sweater keeping snug against your top half, “I was just thinking…maybe I should—“ 

“Did I s-say something?” Toby says quickly. He rises from where he was sitting at the kitchen table, wiping his chin with his sleeve one last time. “Did I m-make you—shhhrk!—make you— m-make you think that you h-had to?” 

“Oh no, of course not!” You’re fast to reply, gently putting your hands on his arms and giving a small squeeze. “No, no, it’s not you at all, I promise. I was just thinking—“ 

“W-Well you shouldn’t d-do that anymore.” 

You sigh softly, moving your hands down go grasp his. You run your thumbs over his knuckles as his fingers tense and twitch despite his best efforts to hold onto you, looking up at him through your lashes. 

“Toby, come on, I didn’t mean anything bad about you. I’m just saying…I want you to be honest with me, that’s all.”

You look down at yourself, at the knit sweater and jeans you’ve put on. They’re comfortable, yes, but there’s something about the way you look in them that just doesn’t add up. You shouldn’t have expected to look exactly like the model on the website, really. You didn’t think you did. 

You’re starting to feel foolish for spending your money on this. It was silly, really, to be so excited about something as simple as a cute sweater, but at the time you thought you couldn’t live without it. You have plenty of other perfectly good outfits in your closet. Really, what reason did you have to think— 

You gasp softly when Toby suddenly pulls you in, ripping you from your thoughts with hands on your waist, gently grabbing at your love handles and pushing you back against the counter. His lips find your neck in a split second.

You moan softly, the sensation surprising but not unpleasant. You grasp at the back of his sweatshirt with one hand and run your fingers through his hair with the other. He groans under his breath when you tug just a bit.

“Please, baby,” He whispers against your skin, “P-Please, let me love on y-you just a-a bit…” 

“Toby, what are you—“ 

“Nothing, baby, I-I’m not doing a-anything…Just l-let me…”

Your cheeks are getting hot fast. You make no effort to push him away, but you can’t help getting flustered. 

“Toby, c’mon, you don’t have to do all this…” 

“I-I want to, though,” He says quickly, starting to nip and suck at your neck between kisses, “I’m not v-vvv-very good with words, I-I…I just—j-just wanna show you—shhh!—s-show you what you f-feel like…to m-me…” 

He pauses with a sigh, pulling back slowly. He looks up at you almost hesitantly, an expression you rarely see on his face. He’s always the first to act on an impulse, rarely ever thinking twice about anything; what’s slowing him down now? 

“…i-if you’ll let me, I-I mean.” 

The words come out far too gentle for Toby, and it makes you melt against him a bit. He’s always so eager to get his hands on your body, but something in him is sensing something unsure in you. You look back into the mossy color of his hazel eyes with contemplation. 

You can’t stop the gentle smile that spreads over your face. 

You pull him down to give him a slow kiss, and he happily returns the gesture. When you pull back again, there’s no hiding the anticipation on his face as he awaits your answer.

“…Of course, Toby.”

He takes only a split second to process the words before suddenly he’s roughly suckling and nipping at the flesh of your neck. You yelp in surprise, but not discomfort. You bite your lip as you grip his hair, trying to keep him against you. 

His hands freely wander your body, moving up and down your sides before slipping beneath your sweater. You suck in a breath when he gives an affectionate squeeze to your love handles, fingers greedily grabbing at the warmth beneath your skin. He groans as he feels you, entire body shuddering at the sensation of you beneath his hands. 

He moves so quickly, as if he’s worried you’ll disappear at any moment, like some invisible clock is counting down and the moment is reaches zero you’ll fade away. He grabs at you and sucks at your neck like he’s feeding on you, like your body heat is the only thing sustaining him. He needs you, and you can feel it in every touch. 

He pushes your sweater up to your chest before hands slide down towards the waistband of your jeans. Twitching fingertips fiddle with the button and then the fly, yanking down the zipper with such speed you were worried it would break. He pulls the jeans down around your ankles, not bothering to pull them off before moving on to your underwear.

He looks up at you, fingers tapping anxiously at the waistband. He licks his dry lips, mouthing a silent ‘Can I?’

“Yes, yes, please,” You reply without hesitation, nodding quickly. You gasp softly when he tugs your underwear down to your knees, exposing your now soaked pussy to the cool air and making you shudder. He can’t stop the breathy moan that slips from his lips at the sight. 

“S-So fucking beautiful…” He mutters through crooked teeth as he lowers himself slowly. Normally he would be eager to drop to his knees and service you, but just this once he’s taking his time. He’s methodical as he leaves a warm trail of kisses down your belly, letting his lips linger for a long few seconds before he moves down just a bit more. You watch with bated breath as he makes his way down until there’s no further to go. 

“…You know I-I love this-sss-s pretty tummy, don’t you?” He mumbles against your skin, looking up into your eyes. Your heart skips a bit when you nod. He doesn’t seem satisfied.

“Say it.”

“…I…I know, Toby.”

One corner of his mouth briefly quirks up into a smirk before an involuntary jerk of his neck and scrunching of his nose pulls it back down again..

He pauses then, eyes widening slightly with something you can only describe as admiration as his eyes trail down to your sweet cunt, wetting his lips on instinct.

You don’t have a second to wonder what he’s doing before suddenly his warm mouth engulfs your cunt. In a split second it seems all semblance of patience has left his body. You cry out, throwing your head back as your back arches. You instinctively push your hips against him, grinding into his mouth.

“T-Toby—!” 

Your fingers find his untamed thatch of brown hair in an instant, gripping tightly just how he likes. He moans as you call out his name, his voice sending vibrations through your cunt. He’s an excitable, messy eater, lapping at your cunt with need and not bothering to try and hide the wet squelching sounds his mouth makes as his tongue slides in an out of you, lips curling around the mound of your pussy and the tip of his crooked nose bumping your swollen clit. 

“Fuck…mmh…” He groans under his breath, not once losing contact or pulling away, “Y-You have no idea how m-much— m-mumble, mumble— much I-I love this boycunt…t-tastes sooo, s-so— so sweet…could just…just— j-just eat it for hours…”

He’s slurring his words already, speech messy and scattered at the words carelessly flow between his lips and down his chin like water over the edge of a cliff. His mouth is already soaking, drool leaking from his mouth and gash combined with your slick arousal. 

You squeal when you feel his two of his fingers prod at your entrance, anxiously pushing through and wasting no time reaching as deep as they can. Your entire body tenses and your back arches involuntarily against the counter as his digits twitch inside of you, slipping in and out at an excited pace. 

“C-Careful, Toby,” You stammer. He gives only a quick nod in reply before pushing in a third finger, the tip of his tongue now flicking at your clit. A thick mixture of his own spit and the juices leaking from your cunt is dripping down his chin and running down his neck. 

The hand not nestled in his hair is bracing you against the counter, gripping the marble hard as you struggle to keep yourself steady. You’re resisting the urge to just collapse with each shockwave Toby’s tongue and fingers send through your throbbing pussy. His free hand is grabbing at your sides and hips, half trying to keep you up and half groping you for his own pleasure. He spreads his fingers out inside of you, stretching you as much as he can as he readies you to take his cock.

When he finally pulls away you’re struggling to breathe, chest heaving with heavy gasps as you recover. He stands back up to his full height, towering over you and not even bothering to wipe his mouth before he captures your lips in a heated kiss. You could care less about the feeling of your own viscous arousal against your lips; there’s no room for disgust in your lust-filled brain. 

Toby’s panting as well when he pulls away, licking his lips before speaking.

“You s-sss-see how sweet you t-taste?”

You mimic his gesture, tongue darting out to lick over your own lips. You shyly nod, and a crooked smile spreads across his face. 

“C’mon, b-bend over f’me,” He says, giving your side an encouraging pat.

You happily comply, laying yourself over the counter and arching your back a bit. You shiver at the familiar sound of his belt unbuckling, then his fly coming down, and then that wonderful sigh of relief he lets out when he pushes down his jeans and boxers in one go. Not even a second later his tip is pressing against your cunt. 

He leans over you, nuzzling into your neck and wrapping his arms around your middle. 

“You ready?” He whispers, and you nod without thinking. 

He immediately pushes inside of you, groaning into your ear as you tense, nails digging into the flesh of your palm as his cock stretches you. The bulbous head manages to bully its way into your cunt, and you can feel the veins on his shaft as they brush against your walls. The crooked Prince Albert piercing adoring his tip scrapes against your cervix and pulls a drawn out moan from your glistening lips. 

Toby curses to himself as he bottoms out, finally pushing in as far as he can go. You can feel his cock twitching with need inside of you as it acclimates to your tight hole. He’s clinging to you like his life depends on it, fingers pressing into the ample flesh of your soft tummy and sides. 

A choked noise claws its way out of your throat as he slowly pulls back, your cunt squelching and dripping as his cock recedes to the head, pausing for a moment before pushing back in. You cry out with a broken call of his name, your plump body pushed hard into the counter that’s currently keeping you from collapsing into a heap on the floor beneath your lover. 

Toby’s lanky body practically engulfs yours as he ruts into you over and over again, slowly but surely getting faster with each thrust as he faces less and less resistance from your pussy, the slick canal gradually being molded to the shape of his cock. He’s huffing and moaning in your ear, not at all shy or ashamed to be vocal for you. 

“Nngh…I-I don’t think I’ll—Fuck! Shit!—I’ll ever— e-ev-vvv-ver get used to t-this perfect fff-fuckin’ boycunt…Goddamn…!” 

He’s grabbing all over your body, hands moving feverishly between your chest and stomach and hips as he squeezes every inch of hot skin he can find. 

“Sooo fucking h-handsome,” He sighs in your ear, “I’m s-so fucking lucky that I-I get to— t-to love you like this-sss-s…”

He can hardly get the words out between his desperate mewls, needy sounds that he couldn’t keep at bay if he tried. He’s drooling again, unable to focus on muscle control as his base instincts take over, screaming at him to just forget everything else and fuck you like you deserve to be fucked. 

You reach up to gently push his cheek against your own, pressing a kiss to his jaw and making him whine. He turns his head to kiss you once more, tongue pushing past your lips and allowing you to taste the last remnants of your soggy cunt on his tongue. 

His cock reaches every bit of your insides, pushing in so far you swear you can feel it in your stomach. With each thrust he only speeds up more and more, rambling on and on about how amazing you feel and how badly he needs this perfect boypussy.

“So beautiful,” He chokes out, eyes starting to roll back in his head, “S-So fucking beautiful…all thick and p-perfect…fuck, a-ah—!”

He’s starting to lose his pace, and fast. One of his hands slowly slides down your stomach, his middle finger pawing at your clit. You cry out at the unexpected stimulation and your knees nearly buckle beneath you, prompting Toby to tighten his grip on you just in case you can’t stand yourself up anymore. He rubs your clit in soft circles, just the way you’d taught him all that time ago. Just the way you like. 

“Nngh—! T-Toby,” You stammer, barely able to get the words out, “If you keep doing that, I’m gonna…!” 

“I-I know,” He replies in a rush, “I-I wanna—want it! want it!—w-wanna feel you cum around me…p-please, please…?”

God, how can you deny him when he begs like that?

You start to push back against him in time with his thrusts, assisting him in sheathing himself inside of you and savoring the wonderful fullness. Your legs are shaking obviously now, and you have to fight to keep yourself up even with Toby’s help. He’s not too steady himself. 

He’s started to rub your clit a bit harder, no longer able to focus on keeping his pace steady with his fingers nor his thrusts. The constant shifts in pressure and speed are only pushing you to your release faster. 

He’s whining endlessly in your ear, slurring his words as he drones on and on about how handsome you are, how much he loves you, how grateful he is that he’s the only one who gets to fuck this precious little cunt. 

He’s barely keeping time now, any sense of rhythm forgotten as he desperately ruts into you over and over again. He’s almost at his limit, not far behind you. 

“Toby,” You gasp, “Please, I-I’m gonna—!”

“Do it,” He growls, “D-Do it, please, lemme f-fff-feel that pussy tighten around m-me…”

Just his words, the clear desperation and need in his voice, is enough to push you over the edge. You manage one last cry of his name before you cum around his twitching cock, cunt squeezing and convulsing as you struggle to cope with the wave of pleasure washing over you with more force than you were ready for. 

Toby curses under his breath and sputters out what you think is a warning, but you can barely hear him with the way your head is spinning. That’s what makes it all the more jarring when suddenly he’s releasing inside of you, the fullness of his cock replaces with the thick warmth of his seed spilling into you deeper than you ever thought possible. He groans as his thrusting lazily slows to a stop, leaving you both sweaty and panting. 

He releases his death grip on you, but keeps his arms around your middle. He nuzzles against your cheek with a sigh. He shifts slightly, and you cringe a bit when you feel some of his cum dripping out of you. 

“You’re s-so beautiful baby,” He mumbles against your skin, clearly just as fucked out as you are, “So fucking…p-perfect…my h-ha-handsome boy…”

You give him a tired smile, pressing a little kiss to his warm cheeks. 

“I know, Toby. I know.”

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

#creepypasta #ticci toby #chubby reader #trans masc reader #male reader #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta smut #toby rogers #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby smut

[uncouth-the-fifth]

good morning, charlie - Leon Kennedy/Reader

read it on Ao3.

Pairing: Agent!Leon/Detective!Wife!Reader Tags: domestic fluff with the tiniest dustings of background angst, married life, hugging, kissing, and snuggling. Words: 3k (yes, I'm capable of keeping something this short) Notes: read this in a WWE announcer voice: THAT'S RIGHT! UNCOUTH HAS COME CRASHING BACK INTO THE RING AFTER YET ANOTHER MONTHS-LONG HIATUS. i'm magical, truly. here is the first Leon fic I promised last month! There's so much I want to say about this little drabble, but I'll save that for my curious ppl on Ao3. this is going to be a big 180 from my spn content, and I sincerely hope that's okay with the public 😭 for my RE people: enjoy domestic Leon bullshit!

At two in the morning, Washington D.C. is pouring everything it has into crafting the coziest atmosphere of all time. A pleasant window-tapping storm had rolled in right around when you resolved to stay up working. Some late-night radio host is making soft, fizzing chatter in the next room, and coupled with a stellar view of the city from fancy floor-to-ceiling windows, you have a prime opportunity to pass the fuck out.

Unfortunately, you have made some spectacular life choices that don’t mix well with a full night’s rest. Nope, no sleep for you. Despite all of fate’s attempts to stop you from being a cop, (including throwing a city-wide outbreak at you on your first day), you are still here, gripping your job with both hands. At two in the damn morning.

Since scrubbing your eyes hadn’t woken you up the first five times you tried it, you give it another shot as you pace the length of your living room rug—from the coffee table you’ve stacked with files, then back to the whiteboard pasted top-to-bottom with pictures of missing young women. The whiteboard had been Leon’s idea. After the fourth time you’d transformed a flattened cardboard box into a morbid case-board for work, he’d cajoled you into letting him buy one for the apartment.

But I won’t be able to stab the tacks into it, you’d pouted.

Oh, the agony, your husband had drawled. He was a master of delivering a good, dry look.

You’d propped your fists on your hips and tried your best to look serious. The red yarn connecting everything isn’t just a detective-movie thing, y’know! It’s actually really useful. And I need my tacks to stick the yarn in—

Leon had cut cleanly through your building sass with another look, this time one glimmering with humor. Then I’ll get you magnetic ones, detective. Don’t you use whiteboards at the precinct anyway?

You’d grumbled. Because, yes, you did use whiteboards at the station, and they did have the little tacks with the magnets on the bottom. But you’d refused to deal with Leon being all smug (he was unbearable pretty when he was right), and had teased back instead, Whatever, nerd. Why don’t you and the other two angels go call Charlie already?

The reference had gone clean over Leon’s head. Of course, he hated being left out of a joke, so he’d roped you over by your wrist and pinched an explanation out of you until you were squealing with giggles.

Summarizing Charlie’s Angels to Leon had been a lot like offering a paper rocketship to an aerospace engineer. But, hey, picturing him running around in skimpy outfits and escaping action movie explosions on a motorcycle is a whole lot more fun than… than the real deal.

You don’t want to think about what his missions are really like. Not that you’re even allowed to know in the first place. Being Leon’s wife permits you a government-issued phone with his handler’s number, and on antsy days you can push Ingrid for details if you want. But after so long you’ve learned it only hurts both of you—for her, in the inability to answer, and for you, in the excruciating pain of being unable to know. Where is he? That’s classified.

She can’t always tell you when he’s coming home, either. So much of your life is hinged on her check-ins, and even more is forced to live off a simple, He’s okay.

For the seventh time, you scrub at your tired eyes and suck in a deep breath. You’d gotten that fabled text from Hunnigan—he’s okay—earlier today, and like always you crawled through the rest of your shift roiling with anticipation, waiting for Leon to materialize back into your life.

You force your gaze back to the whiteboard, littered with notes and pictures hung up with magnetic tacks. The faces of five missing women bore back. The ten-ton weight of your caseload slams down in full, and again, you scold yourself for floating back into comforting memories of your husband. These girls have lost all comfort in the world since they were taken. Your Captain gave you the responsibility of finding them, and after all you’ve been through, after all the other cases you’ve closed, there can’t be any room for failure. Think.

Your legs ache from being on your feet all day, chasing leads, but dropping into Leon’s armchair for even an instant will just have you nodding off again. More pacing it is, then. This is your pattern for the next half-hour: pace, re-read witness statements, turn, sip your coffee, pace, cross-reference alibis. He’s okay. Two of the girls were taken from Queen’s Chapel, two from Takoma, one from Woodridge. He’s fine. The last victim breaks the profile. What’s different about her? Why take her? Think think think— You know what Leon would do. He was the kind of person you could put in front of a problem, and no matter what he would find a way to shoulder his way through. With physical force, sure, but mental force too. He would sit and just look at the puzzle, and sheer willpower would lead him to some kind of answer. But you’d been pushing and pushing for days now, pursuing every lead, pressing every witness, yet nothing will give. The whole thing feels like a punching bag you’re beating at over and over again, knuckles raw and bloody—

Keys rattle just outside the front door.

First the big deadbolt scrapes open, unlatching with a heavy thud, and that sound alone is enough to shock you awake. More than any coffee could. Then comes the doorknob. Leon hasn’t even turned his key before you’ve twisted the lock open, yanked the door out of your way, and sent it whipping into the jamb with his keyring still swinging from its slot. You give him one full blink to register that it’s you before you’re throwing yourself on him without a single lick of shame, legs and all.

Of course, Leon bears your weight with grace. He grunts out an oof! when you come in for landing, and the living, breathing sound drains into one gruff laugh. You’re scooped up under the thighs and teddy bear squeezed against him. He reeks of cheap motel soap and something faintly coppery—then mint, a whole world of plush, wet spearmint when he nudges your face up with his nose and lays a hello kiss on you. The taste of his gum and the scratch of his stubble on your chin make your skin feel like it’s fizzing, inside-burning-out, every inch of you stood on end by his static charge. Jesus, this guy. He feels like fucking magic, and you’re confident that the laws of physics don’t quite apply around him. Everything in the room, in the too-big apartment that’s painfully empty without him in it, tilts toward Leon.

You shove your face nose-first into his neck and clutch the back of his jacket in both fists. Swallowing hard, you manage, “Hey, angel.”

“Good morning, Charlie,” Leon says.

If you had any resolve for today left in you at all, the wash of his sizzling butter voice would squash the last of it. You’d been trying to be sweet, but your husband has to be funny about fucking everything, of course. Even after weeks spent apart. You love him so fucking much.

“Don’t tell me you found time to watch that stupid movie.” Your voice is muffled by his coat, and you’re grateful for an excuse to hide.

You’re moving. Leon carries you inside, his wedding band pressing into your leg and his other big, warm hand spooned around your back. “Boring plane ride. I wanted to get your jokes.”

Your front door is toed shut, and with all the efficient maneuvering of a proper agent, Leon gets the place locked up behind you. Somewhere in all the commotion he’d dropped his go-bag by the welcome mat, and you hear the dramatic thunk, thunk, of his fancy work loafers being kicked off beside it. Only then does he slip you onto your own feet again.

Your hands slide down his arms as you make contact with the floor. Somewhere in the back of your mind you’re aware that he’s damp from the rain, but that fact hangs in the little alternate universe he’s made in your front hall. Standing there and being able to look at him straight-on, Leon doesn’t feel real. It’s like your constant thoughts of him have manifested a ghost in his shape, mimicking the smiley rookie you remember.

He greets you with a quiet, beaten-down smile, and you understand immediately that the world has thrown its fair share of punches at him, too. You’ve both had a shit week. The Kennedy surname just brims with good luck, huh?

Your hands work on autopilot as you take him in, slipping under the fabric of his jacket and lingering over his thudding heart. His warm blue gaze swims over your face, and you can almost hear the clicking mechanisms in his head as he forces himself out of operative mode and into home mode by looking at you.

“It’s a really bad movie,” you say, choked up.

Leon’s jacket hits the floor with his shoes. There’s a swath of ugly, purpling bruises crawling up his bare arm, old enough to be greening at the edges, and your stomach churns when you see it.

He taps your chin up, pulling you away from the damage and back on him. His voice rolls over you like bourbon in a glass. “Absolutely. So-bad-it’s-good, even. We should watch it, make fun of it together. Like, why the hell does…”

Leon flawlessly falls into an analysis of the movie’s poorly-written espionage elements. The movie you made one offhand joke about several weeks ago, mind you. He’s pulling at straws, saying whatever the hell comes to mind to make you laugh, so exhausted he’s literally swaying on his feet. You can’t believe he’s trying to distract you with something so trivial, but this is your husband. One flash of that weary closed-mouth smile, one brush of those callused hands down your wrists, and your whole world resumes its orbit around him.

You laugh at the jokes he’s obviously crafted for your benefit, a weak chuckle your heart isn’t in. With his hands looped around your wrists, he guides your arms around his neck and welcomes you back into the toasty bubble of his touch. Leon’s even warmer from being tucked underneath his coat. Pure goodness and safety glows off him like a fucking nuclear reactor, and it dawns on you that you haven’t felt safe at all since he left. Anyone can be plucked off the streets here.

One more scratchy kiss and then he’s leading you deeper into your apartment. No one on Earth would believe that he’s a chatty guy, but he talks the whole way through. Too often he’s left to sit in his own mind on missions, and you’re treated to two week’s worth of his backlog in the next ten minutes. All the little things he wanted to say to you. The streams of smart-mouth commentary he was famous for at the academy are all inner monologue now, but you’re confident the Leon radio show still runs twenty four hours a day. He chatters so much in his head that it slips out of him like water sometimes—

“…that close to an explosion would disintegrate you, but fuck physics I guess—“ Leon interrupts his own flow of thought to squint at you. “Quit looking at me like that. It’s unfair how pretty you are when you’re tired. What was I—not like the laws of physics apply to that movie anyway, but…”

—and you’re stupidly charmed by it. He talks to comfort himself, and because the two of you are one unit, one person to him, he does the same for you.

With your hand tethered in his, he clicks off the radio in the kitchen. One of Leon’s side-stories replaces the random late-night station that’d been playing, floating over the din of the rain like bass over relaxing drums. He pours out the dregs of your coffee. He closes the files full of gruesome crime scene photos on your coffee table, and you watch, barely able to keep your head up, as he flips your whiteboard over to its blank side. You’ll get his second opinion on the case tomorrow.

Leon sweeps the place with you in tow, and once the security system’s armed and you’re almost sagging against him, the lights come off. Though you’ve had plenty of time to adjust to the Leon that returned home from training, you’ll never get used to the little alien ticks it’s given him. He navigates to your bedroom in complete blackness. He avoids the creaky floorboard just outside your door without seeing, deathly silent. The broad presence of him looms in the dark.

One wall of the bedroom is nothing but paneled glass, throwing a long square of dark blue moonlight over your rumpled comforter. While the view of the Potomac and Capital Hill is stellar from up here, you’ve always felt out of place among the things Leon’s generous salary has earned the two of you: a flat with a private elevator in the nice part of town, fresh-off-the-press sports cars, a getaway cabin up north. So much of it you end up enjoying by yourself. It only ever feels worth it when he’s here, smacking his elbow into the digital wall-panel that controls your A/C.

“—s’ supposed to be a touch screen,” he sidebars himself for the tenth time. Softer, Leon adds, “Brush your teeth. I’ll be right there.”

You rope your arms around his middle and press your face into the heart of his back, careful of the bruises he’s doing his best to hide. “Wanna wait for you.”

Leon doesn’t protest. There’s more little beeps as he screws with the temperature of your mattress or something, deciding, “We live in a damn spaceship. Are we too good for plain old-fashioned buttons now?”

Apparently you are, since old man Leon fails to figure out how to crank the heat up. You let him play with it for a little while longer (it’s not his fault he’s rarely home), and then intervene with a few quick taps when things get dire. The heater hums to life under the floor a beat later, and he turns in your grip to scoff, mystified by your vast and incredible knowledge.

“My smart girl,” he hums.

Just that is enough to chip off a piece of your strength. Had he said that to you over the phone, a million miles away in god-knows-where, your knees would buckle. He is the only one who talks to you like that—with so much simple, uncomplicated love. Too tired to put your thoughts into words, you flatten a hand over his heart and kiss the sun-freckled nape of his neck.

“Clingy,” Leon mutters. You’re pretty sure it’s supposed to sound dry and funny, another one of his jokes. But then he’s smoothing both of his palms down your arms in two long handsy swaths, and the gesture tells you everything about just how clingy he’s feeling, too.

His stories make getting ready for bed an even slower affair. You couldn’t mind if you wanted to. As you help him out of his starchy dress-shirt button by button, he surprises you with a rare explanation of where he’s been for the last weeks. The UK. Truly, your husband is the special secret agent to end all special secret agents: he talks around his job as if it was a bump he’d hit on the way home, entertaining you instead with his Leon-ified vision of London. Touristy as shit. Loud as shit. Smelled like shit.

“Just like DC,” he chuckles, and then a second time when your fluffy head pops through the collar of the sleep shirt he’s dressing you in.

It’s too much rough, cinnamon spice laughter for one woman to stand. You duck away to brush your teeth and groan into your palms like a schoolgirl over him, but sure enough, Leon trails you, fingers chasing the hem of your shirt (his shirt) in a sleepy daze. He always keeps you in view. Nervous, maybe, to have you out of his sight.

This tradition continues when the two of you crawl into bed. Your eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and so has your body, able to sense him on the stupidly expensive mattress beside you. He thinks you can’t tell, but his gaze roves over you again and again—down your back when you flop face-first into the plush bedding, over the slope of your shoulder when you wiggle under the covers. Leon draws you into the glorious halo of his body heat with a gentle hand on your belly. If you could bottle this feeling, the whole world would be sick and stupid for him in hours. Minutes even.

You feel so safe that the word doesn’t even come to mind. Just vague, peaceful shapes of things you know, home, sleep, cologne, cozy. His work-rough palm with his body-warm wedding band slips under your tee to sweep over your ribs. Then comes Leon’s face, just on the right side of stubbly as he shoves it between your shoulder blades without a single lick of shame. The breath he takes of you is so heavy that his whole frame shudders with it, top to bottom.

You remember how you’d burrowed into his jacket the second he got home and think, You are me and I am you. We’re always on the same page.

With that, the stage is set. DC’s faraway glittering cityscape lights up all the raindrops on your window, and you watch them run as the two of you melt into one another. Leon’s warm breaths slow across your neck. Time for you to deliver your line.

You wet your lips and murmur into your pillow, “Do you want to talk about your mission?”

Legally, he can’t say yes. Government secrets, bureaucracy, yadda yadda. Leon isn’t always emotionally ready to crack open a coffin he’s just finished sealing, either, but while it is his job to close your case files for the night, you’re his wife. You’re the only person who can knock on that door. With how little choice he has left in his life, you try to give him options whenever you can. Regardless, you know the man you married—strong-willed on a mythical fucking level, and just as self-sacrificing. He’ll always try to spare you.

Sure enough, Leon says, “Tomorrow. Do you want to talk about your case?”

You shake your head at him, exhausted to the point of dizziness. “Tomorrow.”

A tender kiss is pressed to the nape of your neck, and the whole world goes silent for the perfect, husky whisper you’ve ached to hear. You feel his wry smile against your skin. “We’re always on the same page, baby.”

#leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy/reader #resident evil #resident evil four #re4 remake #leon kennedy drabble #uncouthre

[lqveharrington]

Shut Up | V.

summary: You aren’t officially apart of the Vees, but dating Vox merely intensifies what the rest of the sinners, and his business partners, believe.

pairing: Vox x overlord!reader

includes: smut: exhibitionism, masochism, degradation fluff, Valentino being weird, talks about death, talks about porn (that’s all, let me know if I missed any!)

a/n: this is my first time writing a one-shot like this which was really interesting to write 🤷‍♀️ we’ll see how this goes

You were never openly advertised to be a part of the Vees. You just happened to be there for almost all of their businesses and deals. Sure, you did live in the same building as them and work alongside them, but there was never an official declaration of you joining the Vees. There were two reasons you were protected against all the sinners who wondered why you were always in the public eye with them.

One, you were a quiet overlord. And two, you were dating the company’s forefront boss: Vox, the technological demon.

Though you kept all your soul deals hushed from the public, all the sinners knew what you were capable of, staying clear of your path. It just so happened that Vox was able to snag you for himself, being the only one to truly enjoy you as yourself, despite Velvette and Valentino also witnessing each interaction.

“What’s on your schedule today?” Vox sipped on his black coffee, adjusting you in his lap.

You tap away on your phone as you take a small drink from his cup. “Uh, I think I have a meeting with Diane about the money she owes me. Then Velvette needs to steal me to model some clothes for her new line.”

He hummed, eyes flickering across the different monitors in his room. “Is that all?”

Nodding, you shut your phone off and smiled prettily up at him, pearly whites on display. “Why? Want me all to yourself?” You shift in his lap, straddling him instead.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to such things.” He trailed a claw up your arm. “Sadly, I have meetings upon meetings today.”

“Boo.” You kiss the corner of his screen, feeling soft static on your lips. He squeezes your waist as you move off of him, “Text me if you need to reach me.”

“I always do.” He pressed a kiss to your hand. “Love you.”

“Love you more.” You snap your fingers, appearing in front of your favorite sinner’s house. “Diane, here I come.” You mutter as the dirt and blood from the ground accumulate on your heels.

The meeting with Diane was short and sweet, only taking twenty minutes to collect your money from her. In fact, you had more time to visit the rest of your souls before heading to the Vee tower. To be fair, most sinners you dealt with either died from exterminations or died from your own hands, not being able to pay their debt. It was nice to have a soul who was willing to commit to your every beck and call.

“Babes, focus.” Velvette snapped her fingers in front of you, changing your outfit. “What do you think about this one?”

Your hands come down to your waist, glancing in the mirror. “It’s alright. The puffy sleeves are a no-go though.” You watch as she jots down your notes, muttering to herself about stupid sleeves before snapping another pair of clothes on you. “How many outfits did you create for this new line?”

“About thirty or so, I can’t really keep track.” Velvette circled to your front, tilting her head at the color. “This color doesn’t necessarily represent me, no?”

You shake your head, “It’s more… more angelic than Velvette.”

“Right, thank you.” She flicks her wrist, changing the color to match her brand. “You know, Voxy wouldn’t stop groaning about you being busy all day.” You raise a brow at her words, letting her switch your outfit again. “He was all pissy when Val said he’d try to recruit you to be in one of his films again. Val almost lost a wing during that meeting, it was hilarious.”

“I’d rather work for you than Val.” You grimace at the thought. Since landing in Hell, the only person you had gotten intimate with was Vox. You would rather die with Carmine weapons than star in one of his adult films. “Do you know when Vox’s meetings are done?”

“Do I look like his fucking assistant?” She flicked her hair back as she looked at you with an unimpressed expression. “He’s your boy toy.”

“Fuck off.” You flip her off and pull your phone out, sending a quick message to Vox, to which he responds with a Facetime call.

“What’s wrong?” His eye twitched as if he were to murder a low-life sinner. “Who hurt you?”

“No one?” You furrow your brows but roll your eyes when Velvette snickers from behind you. “I was just going to ask when your last meeting is.”

“Just ended.” He let out a breath, squinting his eyes when you flip the camera to show the shorter overlord. “Velvette, don’t overwork her.”

“She’s standing here pretty, asshole.” She scoffed at him. “You’re free to visit while I finish up.”

“Let’s just do a movie night in our penthouse.” You toss up, earning groans from both overlords. “Fine, screw you too.”

“I love you, but I can’t do another movie night where we watch Val’s porn films starring him.” Velvette rubbed her forehead at the thought. The thought alone sends shivers down your spine. “Anyone but Val can pick the movie.”

“I’ll pick it since you all want to be babies about it.” You sigh as she snaps your original clothes back on. “Someone tell Valentino.”

“Already sent a message.” Vox locked eyes with you through the screen. “I’ll see you both in a bit.”

“Bye, handsome.” You sent kisses toward him. You hummed to yourself as you hopped off the platform Velvette placed you on.

“How? Why?” Velvette shook her head at you. “I don’t get it, not at all. You two are so fucking disgusting.”

That wasn’t the first time she said that either. Or Valentino. They eventually just learned to live with you two after they once walked in on you and Vox in his monitor room… Not a fun surprise. Especially when Valentino wanted to record. Velvette learned to knock for once but still found all your lovey-dovey couple shit disgusting. However, it did boost her business when you both went out with matching outfits made by her.

“Mm, Vox—!” You giggle against his lips as your hands find his shoulders to balance you. “They’ll be here any minute.”

“They both have enough common sense to knock.” He kicked your legs apart. “I haven’t seen you all day. I missed you.”

You shift under him, holding in soft moans from his actions. “Vox…”

“Hm?” He shot a small shock through his finger, causing you to let out a moan. “You once hated those.”

“Shut up.” You grabbed his sweater vest and pulled him in. That was about how far you got until Valentino barged inside with Velvette trailing behind. “Oh, fuck me…”

“Maybe later.” Vox teased, pulling you up from the couch. He flattened out your bunched-up skirt and his vest, giving an agitated smile toward his business partners. “I thought you two learned to knock?”

“Why? Busy fucking?” Valentino maliciously grinned at you, making you shift uncomfortably. “I’m sure you two would—“

“Alright, what movie are we watching bitches?” Velvette plopped herself down on an armchair, letting her legs rest on the armpiece.

Vox muttered out words of murder toward Valentino, pulling you down to sit on his lap to hide his previous hard-on. You lock a hand with him, feeling him rub your palm as the movie starts. And the movie seemed to be more of a success than the last one as Valentino and Velvette’s eyes were immediately glued to the screen. But Vox kept all his attention on you, letting his hands wander across your body.

“What are you doing?” You murmur, grabbing his wrist as it starts trailing up your thigh. “Vox…”

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, “Yeah?”

“We can’t…”

“They’re not even paying attention to us, gorgeous.” His screen dimmed and red streaks appeared.

You roll your eyes but steal the blanket from behind you, draping it over the both of you. “Happy?”

“Very.” His voice was much lower, as he immediately attached himself to your shoulder.

It wasn’t until halfway through the movie that one of them noticed. Sadly, it was Velvette who noticed, meaning there was a much bigger scene being created than the one playing on the television.

“Are you guys seriously fucking right now?” She made a face of disgust, watching you being unable to respond to her.

“Shut up, don’t talk to us.” Vox let out a quiet grunt as you buried your head into his collarbone.

“Vox.” You mumble as a warning as the coil inside you tightens.

He held you closer as you gasped, “Fuck, I got you.”

“I’m out! I’m leaving, I’ll see you all tomorrow when you’re both decent.” Velvette left, dragging Valentino with her when he brought his phone out to record.

“Vox!” He flipped you to lay on the couch the second the elevator door shut, overstimulating your abused parts.

“Such a fucking slut for cock.” He pinched your waist as his hips stuttered. “Fuck, come with me.” You let out a guttural moan as your coil snapped for the third time, grabbing onto him as he finished, feeling him rest his head on your chest. “That was so fucking hot.”

Your chest heaved as you rubbed his back, “That’s because you wanted to get caught, handsome.”

“It worked, didn’t it? I got both of the things I wanted.” He leaned up and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Can I move yet?”

You shake your head, shutting your eyes when he shifts a bit. “Vox.” You whine, tightening your hold on him. “Don’t move.”

“You’re fine, I have you.” He murmured as he pressed small kisses to your face. “We can stay here.” You hum in contentment. “Thank you for indulging in my thoughts.”

You chuckle at his words, “I wanted it too, Vox. But, I think we officially traumatized Velvette.”

“She can go cry about it.” He rubbed your hip before giving you a quick kiss on your sore lips. “I love you, gorgeous.”

“Mm, I love you too, Vox.” You whisper back, letting him tighten his hold on you as the movie ends, sighing in exhaustion.

You might not be publicly introduced to be associated with the Vees, but you were definitely associated with Vox whenever you were in the confines of the Vee Tower.

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

#august’s works 🫧 #vox hazbin hotel #vox fanfiction #vox imagine #vox the tv demon #vox x reader #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #vox smut #vox #hazbin hotel self insert #hazbin hotel angst #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel writing #hazbin hotel reader insert #hazbin hotel the vees #hazbin hotel oneshots #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel drabble #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel characters #christian borle #vox x valentino

[leavemeslowly]

Autobiography of Red

Pairing: Eddie Horniman x Susie Glass

Wordcount: 1,597

Warnings: Explicit, +18, Smut, Masturbation, Emotionally Repressed, Sad Ending, Crying, Possessiveness, Dirty Talk, Did I mention it is sad?

Summary: "I will never know how you see red and you will never know how I see it."* The London Eye stood still at this ungodly hour. Susie was alone in her apartment but hoped she wasn't.

Susie was not an early bird, but she was forced to become one. She would rather nap for a bit longer. Today, she briefly closed her eyes to say goodbye to her nighttime sleep. The last moment of peace was not given because her mind unhelpfully supplied the daily schedule. It included lengthy dealings on the farm at Halstead Manor. They also included a particular ex-military, aristocratic soldier. The thirteenth Duke of Halstead.

She buried herself deeper under the sheets and remembered how they danced in the living room of the manor. The lingering touches, subtle glances and drinking more and more just to loosen up and not bother with the consequences of all the exchanged gestures.

The next day, Eddie asked her what she was still doing there as if he had not led her to a bedroom on the first floor and had not helped her out of her shoes. She remembered the kiss left on her forehead. Remembered how his fingers slipped down her bare arm sticking out from under the sheets.

Susie was on the edge of asking him to stay, rest his head on the other pillow, and embrace her body, before she completely forget what it means to be close to another person. But, she shut her mouth tightly. Her eyes closed and she heard doors closed behind Eddie.

It was time for daydreams to end. Susie stared for a moment at the London Eye, which stood still at this ungodly hour.

Later, she bit her lip, walking in front of her vast closet, and trying to decide what to wear. She thought about a nice three-piece suit in deep navy. On some days, she just needed an extra boost of confidence to cover up her uncertainty and doubts.

The clothes had to speak for her, wordlessly explaining that Susie was qualified to do what she did and that she was an authority in her own right without her dad having the last word. She is not a blind follower of his rules, but she is their maker, too. Susie is writing them in wet ink, and whoever disobeys her ends up with her pen sticking out of his eye.

She smirked, picturing her future enemies punished through that unconventional method. There is always space to refine one's game.

Nevertheless, she moved her sight to the other part of her closet, where various shirts were hung. She has not worn silk for a while now. Her collection was too diverse to let it lie unused.

She took a moment longer to consider her options and switched to choosing a lingerie set. Of course, today, there was no need to fuss with anything too frivolous. One of the white drawers hid her plain but comfortable bras, which she would wear on a daily basis.

A plain Skims set would do the work, but once she had it on, she felt too casual, so mediocre that her skin started to itch as if it wanted to be peeled off. The set blended with her pale skin tone and made her smoother, almost perfect. Only freckles splattered on her legs and arms betrayed an extra layer of material on her body.

Her resourcefulness, more often than not, was a hindrance to fulfilling her own needs.

Susie turned back to the drawers and opened another one. The contests of it, their textures, colours, and variety of patterns differed diametrically. She gently slid her fingers through them and stopped on the dark burgundy set.

Her mind drifted to the day they stole a green Lamborghini, and it almost backfired spectacularly. She also remembered what she wore on that day, a red suit with a belt tightly wrapped around her waist. A few buttons of the shirt were left open to counterbalance the heavy material. Her black hair was falling in curls down her arms. That was one of her most successful outfits to date, but she would never suspect another impact it had.

Eddie had never stared at her this intensely, this darkly. She felt his eyes on her, but he was not persistent in confirming their decision or agreeing on something. On that day, he was sliding his gaze down her arms, cleavage, and thighs. How could he think she did not feel it?

A thrill of excitement ran down her spine whenever she caught him looking everywhere but not directly into her eyes. She was not intimidated, but her light complexion blushed prominently under her makeup. He might be obvious, but she did not have to be.

She took the burgundy set out of the drawer. She slipped out of boring Skims and slowly, savouring this moment, put on thin, heavily laced panties. Then she fastened her balcony bra behind the back and finally clipped the garter belt in its place. Her light skin was picking through meshed insertions. Standing in front of the mirror, Susie slowly, almost teasingly, dragged her hands down to be sure that everything was smoothed out and in place.

She imagined what Eddie's face would look like now. She would mock him: 'How do you like me now? Am I good enough?'

He would not be embarrassed or lost but rather intrigued, silently watching her while leaning back against the doorframe. Susie would present for him, put her hands behind her neck and raise her hair to uncover more of a scandalously white skin. She was anxious to imagine his voice, so he would still be gazing at her reflection in the mirror.

'Come closer, Eddie. Don't be a stranger.'

He would move only with her permission. Before stopping right behind her, he would shed his black jacket and drop it off on the sofa in the middle of the closet. Eddie would gently grab her arms and put them down. His fingers would dig into her arms as if he was ensuring she was real, all his to touch and hold.

'Susan, darling' His deep and rough voice whispered straight to her ear would make her legs tremble, so he had to ground her and embrace her unsteady body. `Do you want me to watch you?'

Susie would shut her eyes, suddenly embarrassed by his hands roaming down her tight stomach.

'Yes, Eddie, if you like it.’ She whispered shyly.

His response was a pained groan and his hands squeezing her ass under the lace. Susie would moan loudly responding to his possessive marking of her body.

`I fucking love it, baby. Show me that you love it, too. I know you want to.' She nodded and rested the back of her head on his chest while her manicured nails skimmed down her stomach and under the lace of her panties. `Tell me how it feels, love. I need to know if you feel good.'

Susie would be pulsing and hot, sweat forming on her hairline. She would open her lips and breathe out shakily, letting out the faintest cries of pleasure. His arms would make her hotter and deliciously restrain her movements. Still, his posture would support her like a wall she could rest against when her body was slipping out of her control.

`Open your eyes, Susie.'

On his request, they snapped wide open. He was there, right behind Susie, with one hand delicately cupping her breast. It felt so right that Susie wanted to cry. Her cheeks were bright red, and her lips were swollen from biting into them. Eddie's dark eyes bore into her while she was slowly touching herself.

`Let me help you, please, allow me.'

He did not wait for her permission this time. His large hand slid under hers and she whined as if it was what she craved all along. Susie's nails would dig into his forearm, feeling his increasing movements, his hardness digging into her back and fingers of his other hand sliding into her mouth. She licked around them, promising him the things she intended to do. She felt that for her it was just a matter of a few more flicks of his fingers.

`Let go for me, Susie.' He was mumbling into her neck now, lips lightly brushing against it. Her reflection in the mirror was dishevelled, her hips bucking into his touch. `Next time, we will do it against this mirror. With London behind our backs. With your tits pressed to the mirror and your lipstick spread across it.'

Susie nodded, hearing these words. They were vulgar and tempting, and she knew they could not be real. Those were her darkest, deepest fantasies. Eddie's black eyes were staring at her now, and she was on the edge of falling.

`Then, I will do what you want me to. In your bed, I will take care of you, Susie. We will fuck nice and slow. You will fall in love with me and maybe not feel so lonely and pathetic.'

Susie rapidly turned her back to the mirror and fell on the floor. She remained there for several minutes, shaking and breathing hard. Tears were burning her eyes, but Susie could not let them fall. She will not let her stupid dreams and fantasies ruin her picture-perfect image.

Finally, when she calmed down, she raised her head. Just as before, the London Eye was standing still.

Susie stood up and changed into Skims. Then, she put on the first clothes she found in her wardrobe.

On her way out, Susie threw the burgundy set into the bin.

*Quote by Anne Carson. The title is also taken from one of her books.

Notification list:

@omgpurpleann @cult-of-escapism @simp-ly-writes @bass41ife @theamazinggracie

@nonbinary-blog @leksii @dont888 @starflame

@booklover1814 @exxodusmo @afangirlfandom @your-mums-nuts @coffee-and-casefiles

@kassa-stardust @romanogers @crescendoofstars @sglassxblog

@wintress1989 @mesillusionssousecstasy @gabbyabby89 @beautifultragedygiver @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao

#the gentlemen #eddie x susie #susie glass #eddie horniman #sad quote #heartache #ff #fanfic #fanfiction #spilled ink #horniglass #kaya scodelario #theo james #smut #angst #tension #sad ending #hurt no comfort #netflix #tv show #tv series #otp #i ship it

[9w1ft]

fam…. wow, what a year.

in the summer, i went to karlie’s birthday show, and on the way back i stopped through santa monica and pacific palisades just to soak in the rich kid ambiance, and well, no, actually, i wanted to check out jennifer meyer! because, well, idk. inspiration struck. it’s such a fun kaylorverse brand! and i thought, if enamored enough, i might be convinced into buying a tiny heart ring or charm or something, but they had just gotten in one of something recently and when i saw it i immediately knew i would be talked into it.

…so i picked up this tiny necklace from jen meyer. for obvious reasons.. i couldn’t help it! it spoke to me!!

fast forward to a handful of weeks later and taylor is… wearing evil eye jewelry! several pieces! more than several pieces!! even an evil eye stud!! and i come to deduce later on that the first time she wore the bracelet was the day before karlie’s birthday concert. which is a true coincidence that i love, because, it’s the day @taylorrepdetective and i happened to arrive in LA. and so today, reflecting on the eye theory as i do, i was thinking today about how my life changed shape, because of all of these things.

for april 18th is, as you may know, eye theory day! the day @swift-79 and i finalized and i posted the og eye theory post, back in 2019. also known as the eyepocalypse, discovereye, the start of many things.

today marks the four five year anniversary. it’s pretty wild that we’re still kickin it five years in! and it’s become a sort of tradition for me where i like to post a little something personal in honor of the day. so allow me to continue this one gratis.

second part of my story is that a little over a year ago now, i went to opening night of the eras tour with @theprologues and the day after the concert, on my way back, i stopped through scottsdale and walked through all the boutique shops and souvenir shops and picked up a trinket. a ring that called out to me, for…obvious reasons.

i mean, how could i not?? to commemorate a wonderful trip to meet a dear friend, and for all the eye theory things that happened on opening night!

and it’s been a year since then and i’m one of those people that just doesn’t take jewelry off, so it’s been on my finger for all this time. it was a snug fit, and silver, so it both wasn’t coming off easily and wouldn’t be leaving a green ring on my hand or anything, so i have kept it there. for a little over a year now.

but the other day someone was asking me about it. and i was like oh, i got this in arizona and so i went to adjust it to show it off because the center stone was off to the side and when i twisted it i noticed a mark on my finger, an indent, for having worn it so long.. and i sorta laughed to myself because, you know, there is an indentation. in the shape of an eye.

so i decided to take the thing off for a sec and let my finger breathe and so i take off the ring and notice— the shape of the ring has changed.

what once was centered, has now fully to morphed and warped the right side. 🙈🙈 c’est la vie.

i only write this out to say that, it had me thinking. about all the fun we had for this fourth turn around the theory, all the dear friends i have met, all the tour outfits, the accessories and merch?!… all of the little connections we have made over this… thing 😆 it had me thinking about how there are always going to be these fun little moments in life where the universe winks at you and, and how if you can manage it, it’s a charmed way to live, really. reminded me of the time i lost karlie’s gem on my swarovski evil eye bracelet at rep tour tokyo! that is to say, when the going gets tough, it can still be fun. if you work to give yourself permission. as one might say…there are cathedrals everywhere for those with the eyes to see 🥴

it didn’t really occur to me until this week just how close the release date is to the eye theory anniversareye ☺️ and i’m not sure what this countdown is for but it’s running out so close to when the op was posted five years ago so i decided to post around now :) not to say any of it was anything more than accidental. but hey, laughter is the best medicine, is it not?

so omnom, i say! omnom!

and so today, on ts11 album release eve,

i implore all of you (and myself) to open our hearts juuust a crack,

and keep on the lookout for the gold nuggets that are going to be there. assume taylor will perjure herself a bit during this trial, relax, allow yourself the enjoy what we get, like nobody else truly can.

and so eye enter into evidence…

literally a bajillion things let’s be real like oh my god

our tarnished post of eyes, my indentations, shaped like…occulations,

our talismans and charms.

the tap, tap, tap of me selecting bert memes, my veins of bloodshot pink.

all’s fair in love and…

poetreye.

#all eyes on us #happy anniversareye 🫶

[koiibiito]

I’M IN MY PIPE ERA TOO OMG I was thinking about reader staying at his house and Pipe lends her one of his River Plate jerseys with his name on it… and of course ends up fucking her in doggystyle because it turns him on

Btw I love your writingggg 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 keep it up ❤️

THIS ONE GOT ME WILDIN— I HAD SO MANY IDEAS: roommate!Pipe, two people who have to live under the same roof for a period of time, best friends who sleep over all the time? I COULDNT CHOOSE ONE bc he seems to be suitable for ALL tropes. but of course, wearing his jersey is a fucking MUST. i love seeing you in my notifications!! ur reblogs/comments keep me going HAHA

anyways, i really really hope i did this one justice <3

pairing: felipe otaño x f!reader

length: 1.2k

tags: NSFW, mentions of reader’s body being smaller/shorter then Pipe’s, nothing else other than Pipe thirsting for u and absolutely losing it over seeing his River Plate jersey on you.

The first time you wore Pipe’s jersey, you ended up with your cheek pressed against the sheets.

He simply cannot help but find you so attractive—he can’t even remember when and where his crush on you grew, or how he started to fall for you—but one thing is for sure, you take up his entire waking thoughts and more. There's something dug deep into the animalistic side of his brain that's so terribly inclined for your attention, and the minute you're giving it, he's diving all in. Because he's been waiting for it.

With your presence in his apartment, it was so hard for him to take his eyes off of you. He kept himself busy so as to not follow you just about anywhere throughout his own place. He doesn’t make a single peep, but he’s so drawn to you that he manages to unconsciously linger close enough that you can feel his eyes on you.

You grow nervous under his gaze, and you start to over analyze everything you’re doing. Or, is there something on your face?

All of a sudden you stopped paying attention to what you’re doing, the pitcher on your hand idly continuing to pour water out, but your eyes don’t register the fact that your mug is already filled to the brim. Pipe watches in half panic as the water spills all over the table and onto you, effectively turning your red tshirt into a dark maroon at your belated realization.

He helps you clean the mess, all the while trying very hard not to stare at the way your wet t-shirt clings to your body. And when you ask for a spare shirt to change into, he doesn’t hesitate to sprint to the laundry room and haphazardly grab the nearest one out of the clean pile. He knows he’s going to miss seeing the look of that wet tshirt on you, but your needs have to come first.

And when you come out of the bathroom clad in his River Plate jersey, he decides that it’s the best outfit he has seen you in.

The fabric easily engulfs your figure, and it fascinates him how something that fitted him so well, looks so good on you. How is it possible that you make the jersey look even better than it already is? And, you surely look more beautiful than you were in your own clothes, and as much as he hates to admit it, the sight of you in his jersey turns him on.

Hands fidgeting at his sides, his eyes are glued at your figure from across the room. It was an abnormal day, only for the sole fact that you had to stay at his place for a few days due to an urgent problem back in your own place. He has been looking forward to the intimate moments he can have with you, being able to admire your pretty figure in peace.

Except for the fact that that ‘peace’ had been rudely interrupted the minute you put on his jersey. The white and red fabric had slipped down your shoulder more than once, and eventually you gave up trying to fix it. Pipe can feel his breathing hitch when he makes note that you’re not wearing a bra—at all. His eyes move down and the sight of your hard nipples poking through the material confirms what he is afraid of.

His frustration only grows more when he realizes you don’t even know how much the smallest things can drive him crazy. It’s unfair, he thinks, as his eyes scan the bare skin of your legs as you sit on the couch curled up and fully invested in a book.

He wonders if you’re wearing any panties under the jersey, or if he could just reach under and your cunt would be there, waiting for his touch.

When you run a hand across your hair, he furrows his brows slightly as his eyes rake over the way his white and red jersey hikes up ever so slightly, following the curves of your body. He thinks he saw a glimpse of white panties that peeks out from underneath, but he’s not entirely sure, it’s getting harder to think.

All hell breaks loose the minute you stand on the tip of your toes to reach up to the top shelf and grab something (he really couldn’t care less, his eyes are on the way his name is proudly presented on the back of the jersey, on you), and you lower yourself back on both sturdy feet but the fabric is still bunched around your midriff, exposing your entire underwear to him, he's on you.

Crowding you into your space and smearing a messy kiss across the tender skin of your throat, hands big and wide and rough and coming up to cradle you everywhere, in all ways—the back of your head, the curve of your throat, the swell of your breast, the fat at your hips—as if he just has to. he needs to be the one in charge, now that you've granted him the attention he wanted, refusing to let you slip away.

If he's not overtaken by his own lust, Felipe might even let you on your back for a while, panting against your naked skin and leaving tiny bites in his wake. And he'll snap his hips into yours with the kind of control any normal man might have and he'll kiss you until you're both swollen by it, a little messy with it, and he'll repress every shudder that threatens to turn him into something else whenever you gasp out his name.

Just when you think you are at the peak of the pleasure he gives you—Pipe will fuck you from behind.

Flips you over onto your stomach and hike your hips up into the air, spread your legs enough to accommodate him. You don't know if it's true—and later, when he is a little more in his right mind and shy and embarrassed of his little lapse of self-control, he won't explain himself—but it feels like he gets bigger; stretches longer, suddenly heavier as he wraps himself over your back, feels thicker and deeper inside your body than he did before.

He'll plant his hands beside your head, nuzzle into your cheek with a tortured sound from the pit of his chest, and rut into you like a fucking animal. And he doesn't stop when your knees start to shake or your hips threaten to fall flat to the bed; he'll only wrap an arm around your body to keep it close, to keep you from slipping away, and he'll carve himself inside of you until you're boneless and sure to be sore later.

Always.

Later, after he's finally let you take a shower—bathes you in his own body soap—and given you something to wear—his own sweatshirt that just feels softer than anything you’ve ever owned—he'll wrap up with you on the couch and refuse to acknowledge that side of him.

Pipe will shake his head and pointedly not look at you, but his frown will be obvious, where he's pressed it into your hair. "Nah, I’m chill guy."

"I’m serious," you can't help but grin, which only makes him press his mouth—and nose—into you a little harder. "Nothing wrong with it, you just get a little...wild, is all."

#lsdln x reader #lsdln smut #felipe otaño smut #felipe otaño x reader

[gibbearish]

i will say also one thing ive noticed with the cake smash debate is by and large (and esp in wedding situations), women tend to hate it and men tend to be the ones who think its turbo hilarious and the women are being big whiny babies and can't take a joke. just food for thought

#esp bc for the wedding ones. its always the bride getting it done to them. yknow the one who spent the most on that days makeup and outfit #out of anyone there? and therefore already has the most to lose practically if say something like a cake were to ruin it? #and also is one of the two people that day is intended to celebrate? who wants to remember this day as a beautiful #happy occasion‚ not one where she got her dress ruined and had to miss part of her own reception to try to clean off? #that bride? #idk i just. physically cannot imagine how these ppls brains work #how do you genuinely prioritize 'smash cake in face funnie' over Getting To Marry The Person You Claim To Love #or just traditions in general i cannot wrap my brain around those #like doing them i can get its fun to have silly little human rituals. but when you start to prioritize those rituals over #the comfort of other people who dont want to participate in it thats where you lose me. we get to 'they dont want to do it' and #i immediately go 'ok so dont make them. problem solved' #'but weve been doing it for years' ok and? skip a year youll live #its a ritual you do for fun not necessity #like this is a nonissue. where is the problem. it doesnt have to be done and it makes them uncomfortable. #so how the FUCK do people keep insisting that they do have to do it!!! #like literally no they dont! they just dont like this isnt a debate youre just straight up wrong!! #if the only negative consequence to not doing a thing that makes someone uncomfortable is 'ill be a little bit sad #about not getting to do it' genuinely from the bottom of my heart shut the fuck up forever and deal with it #that is not a real consequence. that is the minorest of inconveniences. #hm correction to earlier tag idk why i put 'skip a year' what i meant was 'do it without them'

[gremlingottoosilly]

I met a guy in the Summer (dilf!Konig x fem!Reader)

Your boyfriend is an asshole. Luckily, his hot dad just returned from deployment. CW and Tags: Cheating, dub-con, size kink, daddy kink, age gap(reader in 20s, Konig is early 40s), Konig is a pervert, slightly obsessive Konig, love(and lust) at first sight, fingering, dom!Konig Word count: 3713 AO3

“Just one more game, babe, don’t be a buzzkill. I don’t want to end at a loss.” You didn’t want to be a buzzkill, of course. You simply wanted to be a good girlfriend, have some domestically cozy date, and for your boyfriend to at least try to put an effort into being with you. It wasn’t much to ask for, really. You hoped so, at least. You didn’t want to be an annoying, nagging girlfriend who only ever waits for another reason to yell at him, but your patience started to run thin. 

You spend the past three hours either listening to his apathetic rambling about the shows he watched – really, you wanted to invest in stuff he liked, but an abnormally large amount of animes he talked about had 1000-year-old girls who looked like they were 10, wearing inappropriate outfits, and you started to raise the alarm. 

You also watched him play – and also listened to his rage quitting and angry voice messages to his team that, honestly, made you slightly anxious. You never liked loud people, people who were so easy to rage about something as silly as some colorful video game with too many characters to look after. 

So, like a good girlfriend would – you wanted to be a good girlfriend, he was such a nice guy before you started dating, and you need something to think about besides the tremendous amount of study work you are doing for college – you decided to go and look for snacks. Maybe bring something for him as well. 

— I’ll find something to eat, alright? 

He didn’t respond at first, so you shook his shoulder. Your boyfriend took off his headphones with annoying look on his face, half-turning to look at you. You gulped, suddenly feeling like a child in front of the principal – not a feeling that you were supposed to feel around your partner, but with him, you somehow constantly felt like you were being judged. 

— Nah, stay here. I don’t want my father to see you. 

— Ah…your father is at home? 

You never heard anyone else being at the house – big house, you must admit, and it’s embarrassing almost how you never thought about his family. He lives with his dad, apparently, and the depth of your relationships can only be judged by the fact you literally didn’t know what his father’s name was. 

— Returned from his fucking deployment. He’d ask too many questions about you. 

— You didn’t tell him about me? 

Ah, now you’re hurt a little bit. You knew it wasn’t anything serious or too committed yet, but you intended to make this work. To try and fix all the problems you can without ending things abruptly. 

— He never asked. Not like he cares too much, but…

An apathetic dad, huh. 

You started to slowly piece together the puzzle that was your boyfriend’s horrible boyfriend skills. Now, you want to meet the man who conceived him and kick him in the nuts for creating such an unlovable human being who somehow captivated your chronically lonely heart. 

— If you don’t want me to come and meet him, I can go home. 

He doesn’t answer because his queue is finally coming to another match – you simply nod, knowing everything you need to. You can grab a little snack for yourself, fuck off to your dorm and rethink your life choices while your roommate is getting pounded by some gruss British bloke with an accent that makes your ears bleed. 

You have dignity, and right now, it has asked you to get some snacks from the kitchen. 

*** Now, the only thing König wanted after returning from deployment was to take as many hot showers as he could, shut his bastard of a son up, and get some delicious food waiting for him in the freezer. He was already home for a few days, but adjusting is always hard when you basically fucking hate living at your own house. Of-fucking-course, his son was watching the house while he was away – and now he can’t even think of a good excuse to set him off to his mother. Too old to do this, and split custody never really worked when not even one part of the relationship wanted to take care of the kid. 

König closes the door of the refrigerator – of course, his son took every good thing that he stashed for himself. With a groan, the colonel fights the urge to finally throw him out of the house – a thing he needed to do a few years ago, just when he celebrated his 18th, but some sentimental part of his heart instead promised to help with finding a place close to the college. No good deed goes unpunished. 

With a groan, he takes a few steps from the fridge – and then he almost stumbles across an angel. 

Scheisse

Now, König never thought of himself as a predator who prefers running after college girls who might as well be his daughters. He never thought of himself as a gut who liked them young – his wife, god forsake her name, was his age when they started dating, and he hardly had any sexual encounters with a person under 25 in the past few years. Well, not like he had any sexual encounters in the past years, but…

The thing is – he never thought he liked girls with wide eyes, pouty faces, and trembling hands who were holding a bag of his cookies that he carefully stashed away from his son. 

You are wearing something cute, a nice skirt and an adorable pink cardigan that looks so cozy and warm and soft, and he fights the urge to grab your skirt and simply lift it, You’re dressed up for a cute coffee date, and König has to double check if he isn’t dreaming and no one has decided to play a prank on him and send him a cute callgirl. 

— Oh! Sorry. It’s yours, isn’t it? 

You give him his cookies back – but not before your fingers fished another salty caramel goodness out of the bag, and you bit it. He looks at your teeth, at your lips, and glimpses of your tongue – god, he is an old, dirty bastard because even his baggy pants aren’t enough to hide his boner. You have no right to look this pretty for a man who hasn’t seen a woman in three months and hasn’t had sex in the past few years. 

You lick the crumbs from your fingers – it’s such a deliberate action that he can’t believe he actually sees it, and it’s not even something from porn he used to like. 

— Ja. You can have it. 

He would give you the code to his bank account if you asked for it. 

— Thank you, sir. I’m…well, I assume if Paul didn’t introduce me to you…I’m his girlfriend. Nice to meet you. 

You lick your lips and take a step back, pressed against the counter. He looks at the sway of your hips, a bit of crumbs on your shirt, and almost brushes it away with his hands. It would be a good excuse to touch your chest – but he can’t be like this, he has to keep his urges under control, or else his son will never forgive him. 

Yeah, like he needs a better reason to throw his useless son from his home. 

— Girlfriend? He never spoke about you. 

You look sad, and he immediately curses under his breath. For a moment, you look too fragile – too real. He can’t handle this look on a woman, especially as pretty and young as you are. You bat your eyelashes, even involuntarily, and he already prepares to give you the keys to his home just so you’d stop with such miserable expressions. He has a spare bedroom. 

He has his bedroom with a bed that would be enough for both of you. 

— Ah. Um. We’re…I guess we’re not at this stage yet. 

— Knowing him, you’ll never be, Schatz. 

You look at him immediately – you’re offended, angry, and sad at the same time. There is a certain stubbornness in your eyes that immediately makes him want to simply scoop you in his arms, lift you, and drag you straight to the altar – and here he thought that his impulses over getting married would be over after his first divorce. 

— What do you mean by this, sir? 

You look uncertain now, he can see this in your eyes – and really, knowing his asshole of a child, he is almost sure that Paul never once got you off, either physically or emotionally. 

Now, König never once considered himself to be a good man. He has killed countless people, overthrown many governments, and made shitty jobs for shitty people way more than saving hostages to help the good guys – and in the romantic field, it’s even worse. Wife, unsatisfied with his controlling tendencies and inability to feel normal love for a human being – and a son who hates him because, in fact, he never once wanted to have a kid. 

He looks at you and sees a pretty young thing, still in college or freshly out of, probably without a stable job and normal social standing – a good girl won’t be with his son if she isn’t stupid or extremely desperate for a relationship. 

The thing is, König is also extremely desperate for another warm body next to his, to feel a woman beside him, to love and obsess over someone – he looks at your pouty lips and shaky hands, at the way you bite the corner of your glossy mouth, and he almost wants to drop you on this very table and fuck you until you’re crying under him. He can’t do just that, of course. It would probably make you extremely uncomfortable and scared, but…well, quite frankly, his son doesn’t deserve you. 

König is. 

— I won’t sugarcoat it, Schatz. My son is a Scheiß Arschloch…fucking asshole, that is. I’m surprised he brought home someone as cute as you. 

You feel embarrassment collecting in your body. Paul’s dad is a…interesting man. 

Tall, broad, very muscular – even his baggy house clothes aren’t really concealing his extremely interesting physique from your eyes. He looks yummy and tasty, and you fight the urge to eye the bulge in his pants because you’re a good girl, you don’t look at your boyfriend’s dad like this. 

König has greying ginger hair, locks already curling slightly at the lack of cutting, and you fight the urge to sit on the counter and get your palm in his scalp, massage his head gently, and pull him closer for a kiss. You feel like a dirty, horrible woman – your boyfriend is in his room, probably enjoying his time on your “date” while you’re lusting over his father. 

Then again, this date already felt like a disaster. This relationship, too. 

— Paul isn’t all that bad, sir. 

“He at least has a nice dick,” you wanted to add but stopped yourself. Paul is tall and somewhat strong – if he weren’t sitting at his computer all day, you would call him even muscular. And he has a nice dick, yes, even though he had no idea how to use it. You liked the idea of laying with him, of spraying your jaw trying to fit all of this in your mouth, but his kinks and his sex skills being directly taken from porn…not really your thing. 

You look at König and wonder if they are similar in all of the places. He is his father, after all. 

König catches your gaze locked on his bulge and smirks. 

God, if he knew his son had such a cute girl, he would ask her to come earlier. He is two weeks off deployment and probably won’t take another long contract for a few months because they just upped his retirement payings, and he can afford to slack off a little bit, only visiting the home base for some training and instructions for rookies. 

He can afford to retire and never worry about money again – but he needs someone to make his days less boring, right? 

You look like a good candidate. 

— I’m sure my son was convincing, but I know him better than anyone. He doesn’t deserve you, Schatz. 

He is shitty at flirting, it’s not his forte – he can flaunt his money, maybe, show you in his wallet and bank account face first. He can just straight up ask you to be his sugar baby and suck his cock instead of doing your studies, but he can’t flirt and manipulate to save his life. Lying isn’t something he is good for, this is why his wife has left. 

— I…not sure we should be having this conversation here. 

You’re a good girl, and it’s infuriating. He knows that having someone in his bed shouldn’t be the end goal for his leave, but he wants you, and by the look on your face, you aren’t opposed to the idea. König doesn’t understand if he likes that you’re so reserved about it or if he wants you to be a bit more slutty – but he captures you in the space between the kitchen counter and presses you with his body. 

— You want to see the bedroom then?

Pushes you so close his knee gets between your legs – it might look involuntary like he didn’t exactly want for it to be placed here, but you aren’t dumb, you know what he wants from you. Like a good fucking girl, you’re too shy to give it to him right about now. God, sometimes he hates being so nice to people around him. 

— Sir, this is very…

He got you caged in his hands, body trapped in his embrace – you jerk your head upwards a little bit, staring at him like a small bird in the hands of a predator. He isn’t a strong man in regard of morals, he doesn’t see anything wrong with fucking his son’s girlfriend – if the girl is up to it. And if she isn’t…well, he better make sure she is. 

— What is it, Schatz? Paul won’t hear us in his headphones.

You know just how wrong it is, and you almost want to escape – his dick grinds on your pelvis through his pants, and you’re horrified to see how big it is. Excited too, of course, he is bigger than your boyfriend ever could be, and you don’t want to be a slut, but, oh well, not like you were in a committed and serious relationship anyway. 

Paul was seeing your friends more than you ever saw them – it’s probably a sign that you should settle for someone older. You did enjoy Lana Del Rey's songs, after all. 

— I don’t want to break his heart. 

— He doesn’t have one. 

You’re lost when he pushes his lips to kiss you over and over again – a surprisingly good kisser, and you give in because it was the first time in forever a kiss made you feel this good. His lips are sending electricity down your spine, you want to moan just from his knee, pushing on the softness of your cunt through that adorable skirt you liked so much – you feel so small like this, so tiny in his hands, you…

God, you feel like a slut, and you like it. 

Soon enough, you answered the kiss, your lips meeting his in a dance that made you feel hot, that made you feel like your boyfriend never could. Never thinking of yourself as someone who can fall so easily into the hands of an older man, now you know that he got you right where he wanted. 

You push your hand on his pants, trying to get the control back – but he stops you, a giant hand enveloping your wrist and pushing you back. With a surprise on your face, König just wants to kiss you all over. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that you deserve way more than being fucked on the rough kitchen counter while your so-called boyfriend is too busy dickriding his friends in some useless online game. 

— Not now, princess. You deserve better than being fucked on the kitchen counter, ja? It can come later. 

“Later” sounds like a promise, and you bite back your moan when he keeps pushing his knee against your cunt, making you throb and clench on nothing. He is such a gentleman, you can’t help but compare him to his son – and his fabulous ability to make you feel dirty after fucking you in the backseat of his car and tossing you to your dorm with your pussy still wet and messy after you didn’t cum. 

You sob, not from sadness, but from pleasure mixed with some weird, unnatural for you emotions – you feel weird, strained here like this, but you hug his neck and whisper something in his ear. Something, dangerously sounding just like “daddy, please” 

König is blushing, and he looks fucking adorable. 

— Daddy, ja? God, you’re dangerous, liebling. Going to get me in trouble with my son later. 

He laughs when he kisses you again, his hand slipping in your panties only to find them completely soaked – he knows you deserve a nice pillow and soft sheets under your body, and he pushes you up so you can hug his waist with your legs. You rely on him like a cute pet, and you’re so perfect in his hands he curses himself for not seeing you before. 

He is going to ruin you for anyone but him. Put so much cum in you, it will make your tummy bulge – make you his precious sugar baby, pay for your dumb college and make you move to his bedroom instead of some shitty dorm you probably share with four other people. 

He can be good for you – but he will ruin you for anyone else, anyone appropriate, every guy your age who clearly doesn’t know how to treat a lady right. 

— So wet for me…such a filthy thing, I didn’t know my son dated a whore. 

— N…not a whore, please…

He kisses you on your forehead, silently apologizing. You feel his crooked, scarred smile, and you push your face up to kiss him – you want to touch him so badly it makes you feel stupid. 

— Sorry, Schatzen. Not a whore, a good girl for her daddy, ja? So nice for me, too fucking young…

— W…we really shouldn’t… — Tshhh, don’t think about it. Thinking will only hurt your pretty dumb head. — I’m not…

— Quiet, little one. Let daddy handle everything.

He kisses you over and over, his fingers playing with your pussy – meaty digits digging in your hole, making you whimper from sudden intrusion. He is big, bigger than anyone else, just two of his fingers are enough to spread you as much as normal cock would, and even though you’re used to taking Paul’s size, you just know that his dad would be much, much bigger. He is going to split you open, and you will love every fucking second. 

It feels so wrong, you still aren’t sure if you want him to touch you like this. 

It feels so right, he is experienced and eager, pushing every button to make you squirm in his grasp. Your orgasm comes embarrassingly quick – maybe because you haven’t gotten off in ages, only miserable masturbation sessions and poor attempts at faking your orgasm made it feel real. Paul never cared enough to actually get you off – but now…

You aren’t ready for him. You squirm in his grasp when the pressure becomes too much, and he soothes you, two fingers still buried in your soaked cunt. You feel so dirty, so wrong right now – you are cumming on the fingers of your boyfriend’s absent father, and you love every second of it. 

Post-orgasm clarity makes you whiny and sobby, and you whimper in his shoulder when he gently lifts you in his hands. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that he just scrambled your brain with that orgasm – it’s good, really, he might just want to keep your pretty head nice and empty for him. Not like you would ever need to think in his presence, the colonel can handle everything in- and out- of bed. 

König holds you close, not allowing you to scramble away no matter how embarrassed you are. You are his precious thing, with a pouty face, and he will do everything in his power to make you squirm on his fingers again and again before he makes you his wife for good. 

So impulsive, maybe this is why his son is such an asshole – taking the worst traits of his father. 

— Don’t cry, Schatzen. You’re okay, it felt good, didn’t it? 

— W…we shouldn’t have. Shit. I’m sorry, it was a m…god, I need to tell Paul. 

— I’ll tell him. 

— No! — I will tell my asshole of a son that you’re my girl now, ja? And then I will take you to the bedroom, so we can fuck. 

— I need to return to my dorm. 

— And then I will dine you properly, okay? Sorry, Liebling, I know I should court you before all of this…but we can afford to go a bit off board, ja? 

He is smiling, so smitten and obsessed over just having you cum on his fingers once – you don’t have the heart to say no. Never did. You’re a good, proper girl, and Paul was never treating you right anyway. You feel dirty, yes, but somehow, it is almost right. 

He peppers your face with kisses, like a dog lapping its tongue all over your skin – you’re so concentrated on the warmth of his strong, seasoned body that you don’t even look in the direction of the doorway to the kitchen. 

Paul, however, looks straight at you, disheartened and shocked. 

— W…what the fuck, dad?! König laughs, kissing you once again – deep, hot, with tongue and loud, sloppy sounds of your mouth pressing into one another. You’re stuck in place, still caged in his arms like a precious little pet you are. 

— She’ll make a good step mom, ja? 

You don’t even register his hands slowly caressing your fingers as if he already tries to check the ring sizes. 

#cod #konig x reader #yandere konig #konig #cod x reader #call of duty #cod x you #yandere cod #konig mw2 #reader insert #yandere x reader

[princessbrunette]

kinktober : oct 11th

simon riley x housewife kink

simons never really had anyone that was so willing to please him and serve him on their own free will, so of course it’s going to turn him on to no end.

it was the way you looked in the kitchen on a lazy sunday, his tshirt hanging off your shoulder, not aware of his hulking presence standing in the doorway watching you stir the gravy you’d made for the sunday roast you were making (which really makes him feel at home, god) he never thought about having anything this domestic, but you make that life look so good.

it was the way you can just sense when he’s had a bad day, greeting him in the living room when he drops down on the couch, huge body sprawled out, and you crawl between his legs and get to work, gagging on his thick length until the sour memory of his day is replaced by the feeling of your sweet mouth around him.

it was the way you look at him whenever he whips out cash to pay for whatever you want — those sweet adoring doe eyes. he made alot from the military, it’s true — but simon was never a big spender, and didn’t like to treat himself unless he really had to — so as you can imagine, the man let’s you go wild with his credit card. “whatever you want. s’not like i’m gonna spend it.” he gruffs, nonchalantly sliding his card into your hand when you’re rambling about an outfit you’d had your eye on.

he doesn’t want to rush into things, simons scared — and the thought of scaring you off with a proposal is constantly weighing on his mind, his true feelings towards the matter only coming out when he had you bedded, your sweet self having offered yourself to him after he’d had a long day. he’s got your legs over his strong shoulders, the base of his cock creamy from releases as you wail, his thick veiny hand pressing down on your lower stomach. this is where simon really gets vulnerable, a rare but delightful occurrence.

his vulnerability comes in filthy promises. “th’s it doll, taking me like a fuckin’ pro. could do this for the rest of my life. you want that, yeah? want me to stick a big shiny rock on that pretty little finger? make you my little wife? what would people think hm? sweet little thing like you lugging round a big old man like me. gonna know my pretty wife gets f’king destroyed every night. you want that don’t you, pet?” you can barely work out what he’s saying because he rambles it all into one breath, grunting into your shoulder as his balls slap against you, pushing you towards one final orgasm and himself toward his first release. you could barely think straight, but you knew a conversation was due after he’d finished emptying his balls into you.

#simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #ghost x reader #ghost cod smut #call of duty smut #simon riley x reader #kinktober 2023

[satoruhour]

geto reaction to you wearing only his shirt

OVERSIZED NEVER LOOKED THIS GOOD

a/n: lore. a lot of lore. i always cannot help but write backstories. ure gonna have to bear w/ me SORRY !!!! based off of this drawing that i wanted to write sum about but then i thought why not combine it w/ this prompt. i went a little insane on this mb / tagging @papersirens @crysugu @getousex @hyomagiri @slttygeto, who else r geto fuckers

wc: 2.9k

warnings: roommate!geto, soft dom!geto, mutual pining, reader steals one of geto’s shirts, geto is also a little bit of a pervert, mentions of panty sniffing but geto doesn’t do it, m! and f! masturbation, fingering, clit stimulation, oral / cunnilingus, slight nipple play, spitting (on ur pussy), finger sucking, p -> v sex, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, n*sfw under the cut

geto was a sweet roommate.

he’s always topping up on supplies when you needed things, pushing away your hand whenever you wanted to pay. where he got all his money, you weren’t even sure. geto cleaned the house, he cooked dinner, hell, it was like you two were married at this point. even gojo had asked if he would get together with someone who wasn’t you (and of course, in classic gojo way, he was skilled in asking it in a roundabout way), geto’s firm and abrupt “no” was enough to make gojo grin from ear to ear.

even he wasn’t sure when it all started — you were always friends with the three of them, gojo and shoko and himself, participating in their antics and getting in trouble in high school. there was hardly any dull times between the four, looking at you through the lens of a friend. but when those lens started to turn blurry and black, seeing you in a new light of tighter outfits and a sweet smile that looked like it contained something hidden, suguru genuinely hoped it would all go away.

it’s not like he thought he was unattractive, but you wouldn’t go for a guy like him, someone hidden behind gojo’s bright personality or shoko’s satirical, cool demeanour. he was oh so oblivious, however, turning an unintentional blind eye when you’re hanging with gojo for the day but only because you wanted to know what birthday present would be best for him, or having a movie night with shoko only to disregard cher horowitz on the television just to ask if geto would like your new nails and hair.

the two of you were so dense when either of you were hanging with them, going on for so long even after taking a gap year for shoko’s overseas med school attachment. they assumed the two of you would’ve done something then, but it was stagnant, dry, that gojo almost wants to take matters into his own hands; so when you’re begging geto if you could room with him, since he lived near the university you were all attending together,

“suguru, pleasee— i wouldn’t wanna travel for hours on end just for like a two hour lecture.”

shoko smiles, gojo laughs, slinging an arm around you, “help your poor friend out, suguru.”

gojo torments him to no end. he doesn’t regret it one bit when your arms are thrown around his neck in a bear hug in thanks, feeling himself get hard just from the way your breasts press against his chest.

“yeah,” it’s said breathily, softly, “it’s no problem.”

suguru thanked god you hadn’t wanted to move in that very same day, cause all that could be heard throughout the small apartment was him pumping his cock to a polaroid picture of you, calling out your name softly as he came all over the photo of your bright smile. he didn’t need the fan that night, the guilt was enough to burn him alive. and after, he acted like nothing happened, except the many, many times he’d think of taking you on every surface of the house, suffering silently for an entire year as the two of you fell into routine day by day.

today might change, however, when geto hangs the last piece of clothing, something that was hardly a difficult task, but it proved to be the hardest thing to date when he’d spot the bras and underwear lying at the bottom of the basket each time he prepared to do laundry. geto wills himself to wash, hang it, and get out but he cannot tear his eyes away from the unmistakable dark spot at the centre of your panties before it’s thrown in, taunting him to just pick it up to breathe in your scent, to do something to defile it, to let his desires take over. but he wasn’t gojo, no, he’d wait all the time in the world for the right time, even if it was at the expense of a throbbing cock and flushed cheeks.

“(y/n), ’m going to the store, you want…” his voice trails off when the drawer before him shows only one clean shirt left, sighing when his favourite shirt has gone missing, again. he knows it simply by the missing tag on the top, cut off terribly by your hands on a drunk movie night. he was thankful you missed his skin by an inch, but he cherishes that shirt and night dearly. geto simply brushes off the mishap, grabbing a sweatshirt instead.

there’s a rap on your door that quells all movement from your side, fabric clutched tightly between your fingers that it hurt just a little.

“(y/n)? love? you okay?”

“y— yeah, i’m fine sugu. what did you say earlier?”

“i’m going to the store. it’s grocery day so i’ll be there for a while — need to stock the fridge up for the week. you want anything?”

geto wishes so desperately to see your face now, asking if you could go and holding a reusable bag by your side, but strangely you don’t even make a move to open the door.

“no it’s fine, and okay! i’m— uh, busy with something,” you look towards the door and back to the article of clothing in your hand, “so i’m sorry i can’t help today.”

geto’s disappointment is brief, but he recovers as soon as he hears your apology, in that sweet, honeyed voice you love to use on him, as oblivious as you were of its effect.

“’s fine, see you later!” there’s a weird and panicky bout of feeling geto gets, but he’s satisfied with the hum you sound through the door. and once the door clicks behind him, you’re unlocking your own door softly, ensuring your surroundings are safe.

geto wasn’t the only one. between your fingers were his favourite shirt, straight from the dirty laundry of last week’s load; it’s been a reoccuring thing these few weeks after realising you maybe want geto to fuck you silly. you’re sneaking around undetected with it, holding it to your nose, breathing in his natural musk. it was the one shirt you liked on him — always put on when with you — it’s like your secret little joke from that night. and it was so sinful, the way your breath hitches from just his scent, the way your panties pool with arousal.

what would it be like to actually wear it?

the thought crosses your mind and leaves just as fast, heart pounding in your chest when you realise you’ve never tried that before.

peeling off your top, you slip it on carefully, swallowing from how much larger he is than you. the sleeves extend past your elbows by a little, so much cloth on you that you’re a little lightheaded by the possibility of being geto’s, belonging to geto.

“oh god…” you sigh, feeling your pussy throb at the thought, and your hands are shy when they creep in between your thighs. they rub at your clit gently, imagining geto was doing the work instead. he’d be so gentle with his hands, cupping your thighs, spreading your legs.

you’re whining when your fingers find your way into your cunt, nose filled with the scent of geto and head filling with the repeated runnings of his tongue on you, his cock in you, his whole person devoted to you. it’s cute how you don’t know that’s already the case. your fingers are lacklustre as you pump them in and out while your other hand is busy with your clit and you look like a goddess: spread out on your bed in nothing but your roommate’s shirt, a soft, slow melody playing from your phone.

you’re so entranced by the sensations you don’t hear the front door opening and the rustle of the plastic bags (he forgot the reusable bags) containing your groceries, distracted by the phone call he’s having with gojo who teases him through the line. his best friend says stupid crap like she’s definitely into you, too. what her panties smell like? have you guys fucked yet?

the last two was enough for geto to whisper a soft satoru!, clearly displeased with the way he was asking about you, about you both that he only rolls his eyes, muttering an annoyed “i’m hanging up, you pervert. i’ll talk to you later—”

setting down the bags, he frowns again upon seeing the closed door, although not as closed you thought you left it.

“suguru— f-fuck, right there—” geto chokes on his saliva at the moans coming from behind the door, careful not to step on the wrong floorboard below him as he lines up with your room door — a terrifying feat rewarded by your needy whines begging for him. he can hear the wetness of his roommate’s cunt, and he wants to take a peak so bad; so he does just that and stiflies a groan at the sight.

your hair is splayed out all around you, pussy facing the entrance of the door just perfectly and his shirt draped over your body. it sends him into a frenzy, head reeling at seeing his shirt so oversized and so perfect over your body that he swears he cums a little at the display. your cute face scrunched up in pure pleasure, your toes curling around the bedsheets he changed for you.

oh, shit.

and geto panics when your head shoots up, eyes meeting his and your hands halting.

fuck, did i say that out loud?

you’re speechless although your reflexes cause you to close your legs immediately, scooting up the bed like you’ve just got cornered by a predator. it was similar — geto with his big, brooding self, moving slowly into the room with both hands up and a dazed look behind his eyes, you, exposed in the eyes of a hungry man who’s craved you for so many months. you like it.

“you’re— you’re wearing my shirt,” geto gulps, causing you to let out a nervous laugh.

“yea— yeah…”

geto thinks that maybe this is it. this was the moment he’s been holding back on for so long, and so he crosses that boundary into your space, stopping right at the footboard of the bed. you follow suit, going onto your hands and knees and crawling to him that he tilts his head back. everything you do drives him crazy.

suguru’s words is heavy, “you think you’re cute, hm? stealing my shirt and then moaning out my name and fingering your pussy like that…”

your breath shakes, ascending to your knees so you’d reach his height, but not quite. he tugs you closer to him.

“yeah.” it’s so quiet he almost doesn’t hear it, “been wanting you for a long time.”

your roommate hums, lips hovering over yours just by an inch. you’d probably pass out if not for your racing heart and pulsating core.

“yeah?”

you’re finished with words, resorting only to a shy nod before geto crashes his lips onto yours, wrapping the other arm around you as yours go around his neck. it’s messy, filled with drool, devouring you on the spot for teasing him for so long, mouths moving in sync with each other. there’s a soft moan that escapes your mouth when you feel him manhandle you with ease, picking you off the bed to set you down on your back gently.

“c’mon, let’s see the mess you made,” you mewl at the words but your legs are stubborn, still in disbelief at the way suguru treats you, but you let him pry your legs apart after some gentle praises. you stifle a smile when you see how geto exhales at how beautiful your pussy is, leaking from your hole while your puffy clit is begging to be touched.

“oh, she’s so fuckin’ pretty…” your roommate mumbles, intoxicated on your scent as he bends down, giving your cunt one last loving look before he looks to you with a small grin. it’s clear he cannot wait, but he pauses for the words he wants to hear.

“wan’ you to eat me out, sugu,” you’re mumbling and suguru thinks it’s so cute, only responding by giving you a peck on your inner thigh, a soft yeah? before he goes down on you.

geto’s tongue on you is slow and cautious, drawing languid circles around your clit as he plays with your thighs, moaning softly into your core.

“s’damn sweet,” you can feel the stretch of a smile before he resumes, drawing you in slowly with each lick, each suck. geto doesn’t let your arousal go to waste, using a finger to scoop up your juices before he rubs the area around your hole and then the first push into your pussy makes you let out a loud, wanton moan.

“oh— your fingers, sugu, they’re—” they’re so much thicker and longer, everything that you couldn’t feel before now feels too much and yet your cunt gives him his answer by clenching around his longer finger.

“better than yours?” he asks with a lopsided smile.

you huff in indignance — not your fault you had shorter fingers, “yeah.”

“i’ll make full use of ’em, baby,” geto gasps softly when he pushes his finger right to the hilt, obsessed with the way your hand closes around his wrist. “too much?”

you shake your head, “n-no, just— feels too good.”

your roommate laughs softly, “princess is just too sensitive.”

he’s tempted to chuckle again when he sees how the pet names affect you, but soon he’s adding a second finger and pushes in, moving at a slow speed. and then when he adds his mouth into the mix, you’re begging for him to hurry; his eyes flutter close, getting lost in everything that you dish out.

geto’s pace is routine like his life, but it’s not any less pleasurable as he curls his fingers upwards, stretching you out and hitting your spot repeatedly. he continually flicks his tongue and sucks and slurps, tasting your essence once and needing a second, third, fourth, umpteenth taste, bringing out the most delicious moans to fall from your lips. it’s like hearing aphrodite sing, and yet you cross her by miles both in beauty and voice. surely, he shouldn’t mention that out loud, but eros can’t possibly help the arrow puncturing his heart, and looking at his psyche now, he thinks you look absolutely flawless.

“f-feel so good, mmh— so deep, suguru—!” his eyes snap open to look at you with hooded lids, sending you a cheeky wink before he starts to suck on your bundle of nerves, keeping his mouth latched around it as his fingers speed up. the noises of your cunt sucking him in paired with your whines just sound so good, and the scent of his shirt is dizzying, pulling it higher and higher till it pools around your chest. you watch as geto pulls away for a second, gathering saliva in his throat before he spits on your pussy, and the action is so lewd your jaw drops and your hips start to hump against him. 

“ya like that? filthy girl,” geto smiles, rubbing his thumb into your clit and there’s that distinctive build-up in your stomach, coiling and burning until lays his tongue flat onto your cunt, pressing it deep along with the fingers that curl up in your pussy.

“su—” you don’t even have time to tell him, cumming all over his fingers and soaking the sheets, flustered at the in-awe look geto has on his face at how the shirt had ridden up, at how your hands cup your tits and play with your nipples, at how your cunt gushes so sweetly for him. he continues to pump his fingers to let you ride out your orgasm, relishing in the whine you let out when he removes his fingers.

“patience, sweetheart,” geto moves up to reach you, fingers waiting inches away from your lips. you’re taking his fingers into your mouth, keeping eye contact as you wrap your tongue around them and sucking your cum off of him, swearing lowly when you grab his wrist and shove them deeper. “but then again, we’ve been dancing around each other for too long, now.”

you smile at his allusion to the many times that the what-ifs could’ve come true, and yet now you’re tangled up like this in his shirt.

once geto’s underwear comes off, you’re gaping at the cock that he pumps, clearly looking intimidating enough that geto has a hand to your knee and kisses it gently. “we’ll make it fit, alright?”

you nod a little timidly, taking his hand off and twining your fingers, “yeah, i trust you to take care of me.” you make a quick move to remove his shirt but he stops you, saying something embarrassing about wanting to see how cute and small you look in his shirt. you’re scoffing and pushing at him later, you’re just too tall.

he takes care of you perfectly fine — when geto fully sheathes himself in you, he can only focus on your gummy walls that wrap around him fully, his eyes are rolling to the back of his head and you’re grasping at his hands that grab your hips so hard. your roommate fucks you so well, your body limp and your pussy begging to milk him dry that it spills out so much — geto groans into your neck with reddened cheeks at that later.

you’re receiving a noise warning the very next day, alongside a QR code that takes you to a link for soundproof foam, and all you can do is laugh at each other. like routine, geto is already gathering the ingredients for an apology cake, beside him right in that little kitchen in another shirt of his that starts to smell more and more like you—

as his roommate and maybe now, something more.

part two ♡

#anon #asks #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk thirsts #jjk drabbles #geto x reader #geto smut #getou suguru x reader #geto suguru smut #getou suguru smut #geto x you #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto smut #getou x reader #jjk geto #jujutsu kaisen geto

[slvttyplum]

acting up on purpose just so toji can dick you down is something you did so often that you couldn't even think back on the times you didn't.

toji was always in his own head, and you hated that. you wanted him to talk to you, pay attention to you, be there for you, but he was always in his own head that you could be right next to him, and he would only hit you with "huh?" and "what?"

so of course you being you. you decided to just do things your own way and make sure that he could never leave you alone, so you made him mad, pissed him off, got on his nerves, anything that you knew would get a reaction out of him.

recently, instead of just murmuring something under your breath and giving him the silent treatment when he actually decided to talk to you, you would just "act" like you were going out in the most suggestive clothing.

doing this only three times, your favorite outfit already was jeans with a g string visibly showing and a cami top with your tits practically slipping out the top. his eyes going wide and even wider once he sees that you're by the door slipping on your shoes, a sly smirk sliding on your face when you see him stand up.

"don't play, im not doing this shit." his face red and his hand reaching out to grab your arm, but you step back and put your hands on your hips as you stare him down.

now this was the part where you had to play into it, or it wouldn't work, and he would go back into the living room and sit down. so you did what you always did, ran that smart ass mouth.

fortunately for you, that got you put on your knees.

"do you like being treated like this, hm? like a slut?" one of his hands pushing the back of your head onto his dick, while his other hand is gripping your jaw and wiping the tears that continuously slid down your face.

the only thing coming up your throat was more saliva and muffled moans. your aching core grinding against the floor as you feel the tip of his dick hitting the back of your throat. your hollow cheeks puffing out from the saliva that was building up, strings of it dripping onto the floor.

"look at you... mm fuck." his hips pushing forward as he can feel himself about to cum. before he cums, he decides that you don't deserve his cum. quickly sliding himself out of your mouth and plopping his dick on your face and releasing.

"there... just what you wanted."

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #x reader #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #fushiguro #fushiguro toji #toji smut #toji x you #toji zenin

[nkogneatho]

𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘'𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐀 𝐖𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐍 𝐀 𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐄- 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐎𝐘 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

—cw: fem!reader, male and female masturbating, fingering, fistfucking, pillowfucking (put me in a cage pls), desperate gojo because i'll never shut up about that. not proofread.

—a/n: i wish his seiyuu had an asmr channel just like nanami's so this drabble would've been longer. enjoy though <33

You're used to stalking the social media of people you go out with. It comes naturally. Well you live alone in this city, and you sure as hell don't want to stumble across a creep with no defense. You never know what's crippling it's way across this sinful city at night. The questionable news reports just added the oil to the fire of your anxiety. So it was natural that tonight, you were stalking another one of your dates. Gojo Satoru. You knew he was pretty popular when those hand had to leave yours to dap or fist bump his peers on your first date. It's almost as if fifty percent of the city knew him, like a celebrity. If he was really so popular, it would be easy to dig up info about him.

That's what led to you eagerly scrolling past his Instagram, flipping through each highlight as if you were a child who just found the greatest comic book.

party,

party,

and parties.

it was like his mantra the way his entire feed was just him dancing under the influence, in outfits too expensive and champagne to rich. He bathed in the luxury and the people around him were pleasuring off the drops sprinkling. So perfect that he had everyone wrapped around his finger. But won't he do the same to you? Overpower you. All those riches and he decided to go out with you, just so he could make you one of his whores, you were sure about that.

"Ugh, fuck it." You groaned, tossing your phone away. "Guess i'll have to use my hand again."

You opened your laptop, went incongnito typing the first letter, but your autocorrect knew better. It's like it has memorised what you do at this hour. But autocorrect works on algorithms so you were sure it's your fault that you visit the site so frequently.

The porn website was open and you clicked on search button, specifically typing "hot men jerking off webcam." It was one of your favorite things to watch.

You scrolled through the popular videos you had already watched maybe a million times. There was a reason they were popular. So you just changed the filter and selected "new to old". After rummaging through some of the boring videos, your eyes landed on the preview of one with the most beautiful cock. longest even. Curiously, you click on it. The video starts with the man rubbing his boner through the boxers. You put a hand inside your panties, and all you want right now is for him to take his boxers off. After a few minutes, he does and his long light peach cock springs out. when he leans back, your eyes do a double take.

is that gojo fucking satoru??

And indeed it was. The man who earlier gave you the rich spoiled misogynistic son vibes was now moaning like a slut, begging his viewers to ride their imaginary pussy. He had zero shame. Although...why didn't you log out?? Why did you not switch to some other video?

Because holy shit he is fistfucking his cock like an animal in heat. The chair is shaking and making squeaking noises but fuck who cares about that. Listen to his moans. His fucking whimpers. He changed his placement and now he was on the bed, had the pillow folded in half only to start ramming his dick into it. God! Is this the real Gojo Satoru? Is this what he is? A camboy whoring his body out. Because he has generational wealth so there's no way he is foung that for money. So the only logical answer is because he is such a fucking pussywhore that his exhibitionist cock only cums when there are others watching it.

Your fingers starts vigorously pumping in your cunt. They weren't long enough to reach and you were actually wishing Satoru was fucking you instead of that pillow because look. Look at that long dick. Look at the pretty flushed tip with his precum glistening. Fuck, how'd he taste on your? Sweet? Sour? But you know it would taste warm and filthy for sure.

The man in the screen increases his pace and so do you, imitating him. you want to cum at the same time. you want to see what his cum looks like on the gray pillowcase. your middle finger starts stimulating your clit even more while Satoru in the screen is now snapping his hips rougly against the bed, in the pillow. you imagine yourself in the position. Prone Bone. Never tried it but if it is what he is doing, then you're sure as hell down. It's the way his thrusts can be heard banging against the wood under the mattress even if there's not skin for his to slap against. compared to what other camboys do, talk about how they're going to ruin your dirty little pussy, gojo's is different. he does say he'll ruin your pussy but it's hotter because it is followed by endless pleas.

"fuck—lemme ruin this pussy—anh! please, yeah? gonna make you feel so good, baby please?" almost as if he is actually fucking someone. and you don't think twice before assuming he is talking to you. It's okay to be delusional sometimes. Specially when his words make you cum so hard, that you are whining at the lack of more girth to clench around. you look at the screen and Satoru came too. And he was whimpering. Like actually whimpering because it felt so good. Hot strings of cum now soaked in the pillow. Shit.

When you come back from the bathroom after washing yourself, you hear a notification. you pick up your phone to find a "Free tomorrow night?" from the same man who indirectly made you cum so hard tonight. And after what you saw today, you would be a fucking idiot to miss a chance like this.

"Yeah, Of course. Can't wait to see you tomorrow."

*Sent*

#gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x you #gojo drabbles #jjk drabbles #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru smut #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #gojo x female reader #gojo x fem!reader

[bountycancelled]

OPLA characters reacting to a sweet, girly reader who turns out to be a a ruthless fighter

genre: headcanons, fem! reader, kinda suggestive??, idfk just read it bro

requested: nope, but reqs are open! pls, for the love of god, request for the opla♡

feat: zoro, sanji

a/n: reader's feminine but not female if that makes sense, only witting again because I'm obsessed with the one piece live action. also, this may be a little ooc, since I haven't watched the anime/read the manga, sorry about that! also, if you wanna be added to my perm taglist, pls feel free to ask!

☆ZORO☆

when you first joined the crew, zoro was immediately unsure of what exactly you brought to the table. I mean, they already had a swordsman, a sharp shooter, a navigator, a dumb cook and a captain/motivational speaker. so what were you doing here?

from luffy's explanation of you, he was aware that you were a good fighter, but he had never seen you in action.

the only things he had seen from you were stuffed animals laying around the ship, pastel outfits he could spot for miles, and bows that had been put in his hair while he slept.

he was tolerant of you at best, and straight up apathetic at worst, but finally, there came a time where someone tried picking a fight with you since you seemed like an easy target while you were walking with him and nami.

although he wasn't particularly fond of you (lies), he still felt the need to defend you as a crewmate, but the ass whooping you gave the stranger made him freeze in place.

there was blood splatter on your pretty face, deep red sploches of your cute clothes, and a look of pure hatred in your eyes. and you had never looked more beautiful in zoros eyes.

that was the first time zoro had ever smiled at you. sure, he had slightly smirked at your cuter tendencies, but in that moment he was truly smitten with you.

from that day, zoro wanted to train with you. what you lacked that he had in experience, you made up for in absolute cruelty when fighting. you were quick, agile and you weren't afraid to make zoro hurt, and he loved every second of it.

zoro would sometimes smile when he saw bruising on his body from his time training with you but catch himself and go stone faced immediately. no, he was not falling for you, absolutely not.

except he was, and the next time you showed up by his side with a slight limp, some tears in your cotton candy coloured clothes, blood all over you, and a sadistic smile on your face, he would tell you as much.

SANJI♡

sanji is unsurprisingly, enamoured by you the second you join the straw hats.

I'm talking, looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky, cheesy and constant compliments like "you're cuter than any of your stuffed animals, yn-swan~" and even brushing up on his baking skills to bake you aesthetically pleasing sweet treats that always put a smile on your face.

if I'm being completely honest, it doesn't bother him that he doesn't know exactly what your strengths are, you could be amazing at everything like barbie or you could literally not know night from day and he'd still admire you all the same.

one day, you're wearing bottoms that are on the shorter side not that sanji minds at all and you're out exploring the island you're at with him by your side, holding all your bags because in his words "angels don't do hard labour when he's around" when someone decides to hit on you.

you reject them politely, but when they make a less than appropriate comment about your outfit, you click your tongue and shake your head, readying yourself to hospitalise someone.

sanji's mood switches to one of being happy because he's around you to one of murderous intent the second this rando tries you, but you already have them wheezing on the floor with broken nose before sanji can even lift his leg off of the ground.

you're back to usual self, fixing the bow on your hair while complaining about how fucking hard it is to get blood stains off of your clothes, while sanji is thinking about how fucking hard he is

safe to say that this heartless, terrifying side of you makes sanji fall even harder and question whether or not he's a masochist.

he'll still insist on doing things like carrying you anywhere (most of your shoes you impractical as fuck, but style>functionality always) lifting things for you and treating you like a piece of fine china because that's exactly what you deserve, no matter how badass you are.

only difference is, now he'll never come to aid when it comes to kicking ass, because he enjoys seeing you take people to heaven and back more than anything.

he compliments now range from "omg you are the most adorable, lovable, doll-like angel I've ever seen" to "please punch me, step on me, make my nose bleed, choke me-" and he's now ten times more annoying about you than he was before, which no one thought was possible.

believe me when I say that images of you in frilly outfits with your eyes gleaming like diamonds eveytime you make someone bleed occupy 90% of his thoughts. (the other 10% is all things cooking, of course.)

#opla #one piece x reader #one piece live action #x reader #reader insert #roronoa zoro #zoro live action #zoro x reader #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #sanji live action #sanji x reader #one piece #one piece headcanons

[rafeandonlyrafe]

pink princess

words: 2.4k

warnings: 18+ only!!, smut, p in v sex, female receiving oral, girly!reader, violence, blood, rafe beats someone up, kelce is the bad guy in this D:

“i just don't get it rafe.” kelce shakes his head.

“what?” rafe mumbles, barely paying attention to his friend. even topper seems barely interested, both too focused on the football game playing on the television.

“how you could date a girl like y/n.” 

your name has rafe snapping to attention, turning to glare at kelce. “what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” rafe has only been your boyfriend for a couple months now, but he wouldn't question beating the shit out of his friend if he insulted you.

“don't get me wrong, the girl is nice and all. i like her she's just so… girly.” kelce says like it's an insult. “she only ever wears pink, she's all sweet and innocent. she's just not your type, that's all. im surprised.”

you let out a little sound, all of the boys attention snapping to you, kelces eyes widening when he realizes you have entered the living room.

“baby.” rafe coos softly. “come here.”

you cross over to rafe, rounding the couch to plop on his lap, keeping your head down to avoid looking at kelce.

“don't listen to him, princess.” rafe says softly, his voice so sweet, in contrast to the scared look on kelces face. “you're exactly my type.”

“shit rafe, i-i-didn’t mean-i didn't know she was-”

“get the fuck out.” rafe says, voice still soft as he pets his hand over your back, hating the pout that graces your sparkly gloss painted lips.

“rafe-” kelce tries to argue.

“no. get the fuck out. you're lucky im not beating your ass into the ground for upsetting my girl. now get the fuck out.”

kelce scrambles, rushing out of tanneyhill as the game continues on the tv, topper rightly deciding to remain silent.

“baby, talk to me.” rafe says softly, seeing tears still brimming in your eyes.

“im fine.” your voice is hoarse when the words finally escape your mouth.

“darling.” rafe sighs, tugging your bodies closer together, letting your head bury in his shoulder, not caring if you leave makeup stains on his shirt.

rafe knows the best thing to do is just let you breath, not wanting to work you up more with his words as his hand strokes over your back, hoping it's bringing you some sort of comfort.

“i had no idea he felt that way.” you finally pick your head up. you weren't close to very many girls, so when you and rafe started dating, you tried to quickly assimilate into his friend group and consider his few friends yours as well.

“he's just being a dick. don't worry, alright bunny? you're absolutely my type, and i love how girly you are, mkay?” rafe waits for you to nod and agree with him before he pulls you into a kiss, topper keeping his eyes trained on the tv while you make out.

--

“you ready to go princess?” rafe calls up the stairs, tapping his foot against the wood floor, waiting for you to finish getting ready to attend the gala he promised his dad he would be at.

“coming now!” you say before rushing down the stairs, but still being careful not to trip in your heels.

“you look gorgeous, honey.” rafe admires your outfit. its a new dress, or at least one that he hasn’t seen before. rafe takes your hand in his as you finish your descent, frowning when he realizes the glittery polish that was on your fingers has been scrubbed off, replaced with a creamy white that matches your dress, the only pink thing on your body being your lipstick.

“is that what you are wearing?” rafe questions.

“why, is something wrong with it?” you frown as you look down at your body.

“no-no.” rafe shakes his head. “not at all baby its just… very formal.” he figures the wording is better than blatantly asking why you’re not covered in pink and sparkles.

“well, it’s a formal event.” you roll your eyes, heading towards the door, not wanting to give ward a bad impression, and you know you’re already running late.

“yeah, right.” rafe nods, but his mind whirls in secret, wondering if there could be more to your change in appearance than that.

--

“you're going golfing with top today right?” you ask, rubbing your fingers through rafes hair, massaging his head. 

rafe knows you said something, but he's too relaxed to actually make out your words, struggling to blink his eyes open before humming, “what?”

you giggle at his blissed out expression, leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “you're going golfing with topper later today right?”

“mhm.” rafe nods, letting out a soft moan when your long acrylics gently scratch over his scalp.

“maybe you can take me. ya know, i could learn how to golf. probably start with just putting.” you shrug.

“baby-” rafe has to take your hands and move them away, knowing he won't be able to focus on the conversation. “why do you want to learn how to golf? you hate sports.”

“that's not true!” you complain. “i like um… gymnastics and figure skating.”

rafe rolls his eyes “you like them for the sparkly outfits and music.”

you pout, moving yourself from straddling rafes lap to next to him on the couch. “aren't i allowed to be interested in the things you're interested in?”

“yes, of course.” rafe sighs, moving to kneel between your knees on the floor, taking your face in his hands, not letting you look away. “and if you really want to come, id love to have you. but if you are asking because you're trying to be less girly, then baby-” rafe leans in to press a kiss to your pouty lips- “i don't want you to change. i love you for who you are.”

“promise you don't mind?” your fingers play with the collar on his shirt, distracting yourself.

“promise.” rafe nods.

“okay, thank god.” you let out a giggle. “golf is so boring.”

--

you have your laptop and phone opened up, intensely scrolling as you switch between them, brow furrowed as you do your research.

“y/n-” 

you slam shut the laptop and turn the screen off on your phone as rafe walks into the room.

“what are you doing?” rafe questions. 

“nothing.” you smile at rafe. “just some online shopping.” you hope it's believable, but you can tell by rafes hesitation that he doesn't fully trust your explanation.

“okay…” rafe slowly approaches the bed, and you quickly move your laptop and phone to the bedside table as rafe crawls up next to you.

you distract him from asking more questions as you press your lips against his, pushing him to lay back on the bed as you grind down.

“ah, fuck.” rafe moans when you pull away, pulling your shirt off over your head to reveal that you aren't wearing anything underneath.

rafes hands cup your tits, massaging them in his large palms before suddenly flipping so you're the one laying down against the bed, completely forgetting about your suspicious behavior when he entered the room.

what rafe doesn't know, as he lowers down your body and flicks your nipple with his tongue before sucking it into his mouth, is that you weren't online shopping, rather scowering through social media, trying to find all of rafes ex girlfriends or anyone he interacted with, all while you compared the girls to yourself.

you wish kelces words didn't still echo in your head, especially after rafes insistence they weren't true.

--

“gonna take a shower.” you tell rafe, setting your bags down in the foyer, knowing you'll get around to them later.

“you sure not a bath? i can run one for you.” rafe offers, following you up the stairs.

“nah, that's fine.” you shrug, frowning slightly when you see your display of lush bath bombs. you're trying to be less high maintenance, more easy going. 

“come on, what if i wanna soak with you in the bath?” rafe pouts. “please baby.”

you can't help but giggle at his doe eyes blinking at you. “okay, sure.”

“good.” rafe hums before placing a hand on your waist, pulling you in for a quick kiss before he heads towards the bath, turning the hot tap on. you watch as he looks at your bath bombs before selecting a light blue bath bomb with star embeds.

rafe sets the bath bomb down on the edge of the large tub before turning to you. “what should we do while we wait for the bath to fill?” you question, tugging your ponytail out to let your hair fall.

“mmm, i know exactly what i want to do.” rafe says.

in only a few moments he has your shorts down, perched on the edge of the bathtub while his head is buried in between your legs, tongue licking greedy stripes over your cunt.

--

“missed you.” you whine, burying your face into rafes chest as he rocks gently, holding you tight to him.

“missed you too, princess.” rafe is relieved to finally have you back in his arms. hes been away for an entire week, and you came to the airport to get him despite rafe insisting that he was fine to get himself home. you just couldn't wait any longer.

you whine when rafe pulls away slightly, making him laugh and tug you back into him.

“clingy baby.” rafe coos, but the words make your cheeks hot as you pull away. 

“hey, hey.” rafe grabs your hand, tugging you back against his chest. “i didn't mean it like that.”

“okay.” you whisper with a nod, tears brimming in your eyes. with rafe being gone, you spiraled even further, going as far as to befriend a couple of his exes to compare yourself even more to them. you also attended a party that kelce was at, and while he didn't speak at all to you, you could occasionally feel his eyes on you, disapproval in his gaze.

“love you so much bunny.” rafe says, rubbing his large hands over your shoulders. “let's get home so i can show you how much i missed you, yeah?”

you perk up as you nod, making sure your hand is clasp together with rafes as you head out of the airport and towards the parking lot, your keys hanging from your finger that isn't intertwined with rafes.

“here, baby.” rafe opens the passenger side door for you, but you frown and don't move towards it.

“you just got off a flight, rafe. i can drive.” 

“nope.” rafe snatches the keys out of your grasp. “you're my girl, and as long as im here you have no need to drive yourself. now get in, my passenger princess.”

--

“ready for the party?” you ask rafe, adjusting your skirt as rafe walks down the stairs.

“of course.” he smiles, pressing a kiss to your lips before looking down at your outfit.

“baby… is this really what you want to wear?” rafe asks. he likes any clothes you put on, but the black skirt paired with a plain white cropped tee, not even accented by any jewelry just isn't you.

“i just…” you swallow. “i just know kelce is gonna be there. wanna show him that i don't need to be wearing sparkly pink every second.”

rafe can't speak, the anger quickly rising when he realizes that months later you still haven't let go of kelces words, still worrying that you arent the right person for rafe.

“go put on a sparkly dress.” rafe simply says, not able to keep his voice soft, despite addressing you. you hustle upstairs, changing into the outfit you really wanted to wear, adding some jewelry and colourpop super shock shadow to your lid.

you bounce down the stairs, feeling much more yourself now.

“theres my pretty girl.” rafe says, his words sweet but his face still angry as he places a hand on the small of your back, guiding you out towards his truck.

he speeds to the party as you sit there silently, playing with your rings, worried about what is going to happen when you get to the party, especially knowing kelce is gonna be there.

“rafey, don’t do anythi-” you tell him as he helps you down after parking, but you can’t even finish your sentence.

rafe eyes kelce standing on the front lawn, a red solo cup in his hand. he hasn’t spotted rafe yet, but you know as soon as he does the smile is going to drop from his face.

rafe begins to stalk towards him while you trail behind, grimacing when rafe throws a punch, landing right on kelces cheek.

“fuck you!” rafe shouts, shoving him back before kelce can even realize what is happening.

“yo, man, stop!” some guy you recognize but don’t know his name yells, but doesn’t try to get in the middle as rafe punches kelce again.

you can’t help the smile on your face, watching your man defend you throughout anything, even if it involves turning one of his close friends into a bloody pulp.

“y/n… it’s gone on long enough, stop him.” topper comes up behind you, making you jump.

you turn to look at him before back at kelce, eyes glazed over as rafe shouts at him again. you rush to rafes side, grabbing at his fist. “okay, okay.” you tell him softly. “he gets it.”

rafe steps away as kelce falls to the ground, his chest heaving as his lip and nose drip blood. “let this be a lesson.” rafe turns to the crowd that has grown. “no one shit talk me or my girlfriend or this is what happens to you.” rafe points at kelce, not giving another word before stalking away, literally grabbing you and picking you up to carry you back towards his truck. you stay quiet as rafe sets you in the passenger seat.

“are your knuckles hurt?” you ask, petting your hand gently over his wrist as rafe shifts the car into gear, rushing away from the party.

“i’ll be fine, baby.” rafe says, glancing at his reddened fingers. “just need to get you home.”

“oh.” you nod, knowing that while rafe got some of his anger out on kelce, he’s certainly going to get the rest of his pent up energy out on you. 

it takes minutes from the time you get home for rafe to have your back flat on the bed, his large cock thrusting into you. 

you moan out, hands gripping at his shoulders, your nails leaving scratches against his tanned skin. 

“you’re. my. fucking. girl.” rafe says, accentuating each word by pounding his cock inside of you.

you let out a moan, kelces mean words thoroughly beat out of your head as you nod. “im yours.”

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @emma77645 @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart

#GUYS RAFEY LOOKS SO CUTE IN HIS SILLY LITTLE HAT I CANT #HES MY BABY #rafe smut #rafe cameron smut #obx smut #outer banks smut #rafe fic #rafe fanfic #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe imagines #rafe drabble #rafe fluff #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron fluff #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n