#make it fucking hurt do it fucking honest i want to have to run away in the rain no shoes i want to have to escape i want it worse worse

[moeitsu]

Song Lyrics That Remind Me of Arthur Morgan

Nobody asked for this, but I listen to A LOT of music, and this boah is constantly on my mind 24/7. So I thought I'd share some lyrics that remind me of him and his relationships <3

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Hard Believer - First Aid Kit

"So you ask for my opinion. Well, what is there to say? To be honest and just foolish, won't make you wanna stay. You've got to go on and get moving. And I can't do that for you. Got so many plans and so much you wanna do. Love is tough, time is rough on me."

To a Poet - First Aid Kit (Mary & Arthur)

"You said, 'Don't give me nothing you don't wanna lose.' I said, 'Darlin' I'll give you everything I got, if you want them to choose.' Though unwillingly I left and it was so, so hard to do. Now I miss you more than I can take and I will surely break. And every morning that I wake, God, it is the same."

Afraid of Heights - Boygenius (Dutch & Arthur)

"I know I fucked up when I told you I'm afraid of heights. It made you wanna test my courage. You made me climb a cliff at night. You wanted me to jump and I declined. You called me a coward, I replied, I don't wanna live forever, but I don't wanna die tonight."

My Silver Lining - First Aid Kit

"I don't know if I'm scared of dyin', but I'm scared of living too fast, too slow. Regret, remorse, hold on. Oh no I've gotta go. There's no starting over, no new beginnings, time races on. You've just gotta keep on keeping on."

Sun Bleached Flies - Ethel Cain

"If they strike once, then you hit 'em twice as hard. But in the end, if I bend under the weight that they gave me, Then this heart would break and fall twice as far. We all know how it goes, the more it hurts, the less it shows. But I still feel like they all know, and that's why I could never go back home."

Saviour - George Ezra (Mary & Arthur)

"Time was young and you were mine. Take me back to that midnight moon. Cradle me, at that midnight moon. All of me is all for you, and what I got to give is not enough. It's a dark night. Being your own savior, is it saving you?"

Cowboy, Gangster, Politician - Goldie Boutilier (Mary & Arthur)

"We said goodbye, but it never ends. 'Cause you can't get away from a woman who loves you. 'Cause you can't run away from feelings that haunt you. No, you can't separate a fire from a flame that already burns. Every saints a sinner, we all have our past. Forever is a fiction, nothing lasts."

Let Him Fly - Patty Griffin (Mary Gillis-Linton)

"Ain't no talking to this man, ain't no pretty other side. Ain't no way to understand, the stupid words of pride. It would take an acrobat, and I already tried all that so, I'm gonna let him fly. You know the light has left his face, but you can't recall just where or why. So there was really nothing to it, I said I'm gonna let him fly."

The Chain - Fleetwood Mac (Dutch & Arthur)

"And if you don't love me now, You will never love me again. I can still hear you saying, we would never break the chain. Run in the shadows. Damn your love, damn your lies."

Devil's Resting Place - Laura Marling

"I've been with the devil in the devil's resting place. Water won't clean you, you only hold yourself to the things you do. Come up here to speak to me and hold your face to mine. Any man can hold my gaze has done his job just fine. You sold your life away to be with me tonight. Hold your head against my chest, I think you'll be just fine."

Through the Valley - Shawn James

"I walk through the valley of the shadow of death. And I fear no evil because I'm blind to it all, and my mind and my gun they comfort me. Because I know I'll kill my enemies when they come. Surely, goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life. And I will dwell on this earth forevermore. Well, I came upon a man at the top of a hill. Called himself the savior of the human race. Said he'd come to save the world from destruction and pain, but I said, how can you save the world from itself?"

Youngest Daughter - Superheaven

"It's useless, I tried, but to no avail. To tell you how much I know, how much I care. Breathe until your lungs fail, you can sing 'til you go deaf. I am sick, I am horrified at everything I hear. Everyday repeats itself again, the cycle of our misery, It drives us all insane."

The Fall - Gregory Alan Isakov (John & Arthur)

"You heard blood was thick, brothers and sisters. But ya don't know where anybody's at. Time was a bust, you thought you'd better be tough. Nobody gets past the trembling wire. All eyes on you now, on you. We're all holding our breath."

Second Chances - Gregory Alan Isakov (John & Arthur)

"I'm running from nothing, no thoughts in my mind. Oh my heart was all black but I saw something shine. Thought that part was yours, but it might just be mine. I could share it with you, if you gave me the time. I'm all bloody knuckles, longing for home. If it weren't for second chances, we'd all be alone."

My Mind - Paris Paloma (Dutch & Arthur)

"What did I do wrong? Will you tell me what I did wrong, what did I? Was it a first offense? How long had you been harboring that vemon? You could have used your words then, you wanted them to hurt and so I let them. Never would I beseech you, to endure what you put me through."

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #dutch van der linde #mary gillis #red dead redemption community #red dead fandom #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 fanart #john marston

[sttoru]

your boyfriend cannot stop himself from kissing you all over. kissing you is his favorite thing to do - no matter when or where.

☀︎｜tags. older bf!gojo satoru x female reader. suggestive, mild (to somewhat) nsfw, fluff. lots of kissing. lots and lots of kissing and loving. he fondles and gropes you everywhere basically. clingy satoru. tiny bit size difference (yes ok im a slut, what about it). body worship kinda. readers gets called ‘sweet / pretty girl, baby, princess’. beta read? what’s that.

you fell for it again; satoru told you it was only going to be a quick peck on the lips. ‘i promise, baby, c'moooon’ — you recall him begging in that whiny voice of his. that's all what was needed to make you putty in his hands.

“fine, but only one kiss, okay?” you gave in and walked over to satoru, climbed onto your shared bed and leaned in for a swift kiss—only for his strong arms to cage you in and never let go. it had been ten minutes since; the apartment was silent, except for the lewd sounds of your shared kisses and heavy breaths.

satoru’s soft hands are wandering everywhere. from cupping your cheeks to rubbing your sides and gripping your ass. the clock was ticking loudly, but the sound of it was drowned out by your moans. and satoru’s low, needy whimpers.

the appointment you were getting ready for had long slipped your mind.

“mh, you’re such a good kisser, baby,” the white-haired man sighs. he absolutely loves the way you follow the movements of his glossy lips—your head tilting to the side and back—automatically accomodating to satoru’s motions. he was kissing you with an urgent need. one you had never known or witnessed before, “more, ngh, need more of you, please.”

satoru was not letting up. you couldn’t blame him; it was easy to get lost in this warm and cherished moment of peace. his sweet kisses switched intensity—going from innocent kisses to sloppy ones, resulting in your chin dripping with a mixture of saliva.

you whine and straddle satoru’s lap which earns you a happy hum from your lover. that was his plan all along: to completely distract you from the fact that you had to leave the house. that you had to leave his side. others would call it annoyingly clingy, but satoru absolutely needs your lips on his.

he is sure that he would go insane if he spent a whole day without kissing you. an hour is already too long, if he is honest.

satoru would love to kiss you until the end of time. until death comes knocking onto his door. the last thing he desires to feel is your plump lips and wet tongue wrapped around his. a peaceful, warm death. one with no regrets.

“mhmmm, fuck, you taste so sweet.” satoru's eyebrow furrow in delight. he is nearly overstimulated by the taste of you. the way your small body clings onto him, your hands holding onto his jaw and sliding down his chest, your sounds of pleasure that only he could ever have the honour of hearing.

it was perfect. all of you was perfect.

your parted lips make way for his tongue again. satoru slips his tongue inside your mouth. it was tender, yet demanding. your throat tightens up and a choked moan fills his ears. his cold fingers make contact with the warm skin of your midriff. they were aiming at one place; your chest.

the one satoru loves to fondle no matter when or where. the same one he loves to use as a pillow every night.

“nnh, ‘toru, need’to breathe,” you are running out of air. the short gasps you took between the heated kisses were not enough to fill your lungs. but, it was addicting. the shortness of breath the two of you experienced only served as more proof of your love.

neither of you want to pull away—to pause the make out session for even what could be a split second.

the older man below you is hesistant. he does not want to let go of you. it's like you’re asking him to break up—that’s how much it hurts him to stop kissing you.

however, he felt a bit light-headed from the lack of oxygen as well. satoru pulls away, but not without sweeping his tongue over your bottom lip, lapping up the drool that dripped down the corners of your mouth.

his eyes are half-lidded and glazed over with both love and lust. you stabilise yourself by holding onto his broad shoulders and satoru rubs your back to help calm you down further. a ghost of a grin tugs at his lips. he surely is enjoying your adorable, exhausted demeanour. your chest was heaving up and down—his fingers sneaking to your front and wrapping around a breast to feel its tenderness.

“pretty,” satoru sighs. he takes the chance once your lips part to take a deep breath. his tongue quickly slips in, invading your mouth and exploring every inch before separating the two of you again. he can not go a minute without kissing you. you sure are like a drug to him, “thank you, princess.”

you are surprised by the sudden tongue kiss, but brush it off with a chuckle. you know how satoru is; not able to keep away from you in heated moments like these. his large hands fondling, groping and squeezing every area of your body only proves that point.

“thank you for what?” you ask, planting a soft peck on his lips. your boyfriend responds by holding the back of your head. he leans in for another kiss like a man depraved of any affection. you shudder and hold onto him like he there is no tomorrow. he does the same back, squeezing you against his chest.

satoru slightly tilts his head back to answer your question. his breath was hot on your mouth, a faint string of saliva hanging between your bottom lips. he can not hold the urge. he can not answer. his lips are already colliding with yours once more.

over and over. until the two of you were out of breath and needed a break again.

“thank you for being with me,” satoru answers in a quiet whisper. the pad of his thumb brushes back and forth against the waistband of the shorts you are wearing. there is an urge to pull them down and reveal those pretty little panties you are wearing, but his current priority is to feel your mouth on his.

until he gets enough. which is never. never in a million years.

“thank you for everything, honestly,” satoru continues and leaves a couple wet kisses down your neck. his hands do not leave your perfect body. he’s admiring every curve - every body part that had yet to be touched, “could have never believed that i’d end up with such a pretty girl. but, here i am, with the prettiest girl in the world in my arms.”

satoru had a way with words. one that left you flustered like crazy each time. he looks at you and that’s when you know that he means every word. his eyes were shining, even when half-lidded. the admiration in them more than just visible.

he looks at your face and body like he’s witnessing the world's greatest treasure. and that you surely are.

“stop saying that.” you giggle embarrassedly. you cover your mouth to hide your smile, though satoru is quick to grab your wrist and pull your hand away. he keeps holding onto your arm to prevent you from hiding your face from his sight. and to stop you from hiding your lips from his, of course.

the older man clicks his tongue, scolding you jokingly for trying to hide that precious smile from him. he kisses the corners of your lips, touch lingering against your hot skin, “how am i supposed to admire my pretty girl if she keeps hiding herself, hm?”

you squirm due to satoru’s flirty words. his gentle tone of voice is making you feel those tingles in your lower abdomen. there has not been a single moment in your relationship where your lover made you feel unwanted. it’s been the complete opposite every day.

“someone’s getting a bit squirmy, aye?” your boyfriend teases. he knows that the combination of his words, looks and actions make you weak in the knees. you always react like it’s your first time kissing and that is both endearing and amusing to him.

you can’t control your bodily reactions either. the sight of satoru beneath you is simply too much. his fluffy hair that sits messily due to your fingers that tugged and played around with the strands, his black top riding up to reveal a glimpse of his defined abs and happy trail. . . the faint blush on satoru’s cheeks and the needy look in his eyes.

you surely can’t leave him alone while he looks like that.

“shut up and kiss me already.” you respond with a huff. and so, satoru does. wasting not a single second. kissing you is his job—his passion. the only thing he ever craves for.

the room once again fills with noises of pure contentment, enjoyment and pleasure. it’s just you two in that moment—no one else mattered.

as long as your lips stay attached to each other, no one actually does.

#sttoru writes. #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #x female reader

[uglyducklingofthe2000s]

Extrovert Meets Introvert - LN (Shy Series)

Prequel to "We're not Private, She's Just Shy."

Summary: Lando spots a young woman who is trying to hide herself away at a birthday party and he decides he needs to pursue her for attention.

Lando going to birthday parties isn't uncommon, it's one of his old school friend's birthday party. He tries to keep up with people from all areas of his life and it helps him keep relaxed.

"Where are you going?" Max asks as Lando crashes on the live stream.

"Birthday party. Just wanted to say hi before I leave." Lando states earning a nod from Max. "I'll see you later, mate. Bye everyone."

Lando takes off getting himself to the party venue which is a top floor with a balcony looking out on London. He's greeted by plenty of familiar faces before he gets himself to the bar for a drink.

"Hi, Lando. Haven't seen you around these parts for a long time." Victoria (Imma be making up names and people for the purpose of this), the birthday girl states while Lando turns to smile at her.

"Work does a pretty good job at keeping me-who is that?" Lando questions spotting a young woman over Victoria's shoulder making her turn with those siren eyes searching before she laughs lightly.

"That's my friend, y/n. I'd say I'll introduce you but she's really quiet and keeps to herself." Victoria explains before turning to look at her friend again who is acting a little unusual but Lando's standard. "Actually I'm almost certain she's trying to hide or find a quick exit."

"Does she not like parties?"

"More like she's terrified of people she doesn't know, super super shy. Most introverted but polite person I've ever met and probably will ever meet." Victoria sighs before turning to Lando again. "She's not exactly your type if I'm to be really honest. The two of you couldn't be more different."

"Don't opposites attract?" Lando shrugs then deciding that regardless of Victoria's warning, he takes hold of his drink, wishing her a happy birthday and to have a good night before he moves towards the young woman who has picked up some food and seated herself with another person that Lando also happens to know and feels comfortable to sit down and join them.

Lando sits down not hiding the way his eyes nearly remain exclusively on y/n, as he's now learned her to name to be. Though he has yet to hear her voice as Alyssa, a former fling of Lando's from his slightly younger years, had introduced her name while y/n has just progressively gotten more and more red in the face since he sat down.

"Alyssa, what the fuck are you doing? Get up and dance." Victoria demands shooting Lando a quick glance that tells him that this is her helping him. "Don't worry, y/n. I'm not going to make you get up and dance when you're this sober. We'll leave you in Lando's capable hands. He doesn't bite unless you ask nicely so don't panic about him either."

Lando mouths a thank you before the two of them are left in each other's company.

"So do I get to hear from you now?" Lando asks while she flushes an even deeper shade of red. "We could go out to the balcony?"

Hoping that being in a less public spot and slightly away from the music, Lando puffs out a breath of relief when she nods in agreement still looking like she is pretty much ready to run in the opposite direction. But Lando keeps her in front of him to avoid such an issue.

It takes a couple seconds but she builds up the courage to speak up not long after they step outside.

"I didn't think F1 drivers got to come out and party. Isn't drinking really bad for the diet?" Y/n asks suddenly proving she has some knowledge of the sport and of him.

"Feels a little unfair that you know stuff about me, but I don't know anything about you." Lando comments with a cheeky smile that she diverts her eyes from. "Aside from the fact you're very shy."

There's almost a pout on her lips over that comment but he doesn't think any feelings are actually hurt. She's just letting a bit more of her personality peak through.

"Would you let me have a dance with you?" Lando asks making her look like she's nearly about to cry. "Or I can help you get out of here and make a quick escape?"

"You wouldn't do that." Y/n laughs before swallowing. "You only just got here."

"And I think we should leave so I can take you on a date where you only get attention from me and no one else." Lando states while she swallows thickly clearly very much tempted. "I doubt Victoria will mind."

"I shouldn't."

"You should."

Y/n smiles while Lando grins at her, offering his hand to her watching her with careful eyes before she links her hand to his with almost fear in her eyes before he grips her hand with a python grip. Her face is flushed actions in a burning red before he begins to pull her through the venue to the lift where she looks around almost looking panicked while he guides her into the lift.

It's going against her gut instinct to stick to what she knows is safe and keep to herself. But there's a promise in Lando's eyes that makes her feel like she can trust him not to terrify her quite so much.

-

Turns out that Lando's version of getting pizzas and promising that it would just be the two of them. He somewhat kidnaps her, taking her all the way out of London back to his house that he has for when he's back in England.

It seems silly to say, and Lando isn't a believer of love at first sight, but getting to sit with her makes him feel some sort of connection with her. He's obsessed with her company and really he wants to spend more and more time with her.

"Be honest, would you go on another date with me?" Lando asks once they've finished the pizza.

"You do most of the talking and buy me pizza, I don't know what I can deny myself from." Y/n laughs before grinning at him brightly. "You're definitely good company."

Lando grins really discovering that he loves hearing her voice, maybe because he has done most of the talking and while she seems completely fine to listen to him talk. He leans forward pulling her forward towards himself.

"This is just the beginning then, I've got a lot more in my pocket." Lando smirks while she flushes before he closes the space between them again and kisses her. "You should come to the next race."

"No. No. That's too much." Y/n states immediately with a hot face that tells Lando he should've predicted that immediate reaction. "We've only just met."

"Just meeting is enough for me. You can come and you don't have to worry about anything, just be a guest of McLaren. No link to me. I promise." Lando tries making her sigh. "Please? You're a fan of the sport, you know that you'd have the best time. There's nothing that beats being in a race in person."

"Ok, that does sound really good." Y/n admits softly before she smiles a little nervously at him. "You promise no attention on me?"

"I promise. Absolutely no attention on you at all in the slightest." Lando nods then earning a smile that is about as excited as he was hoping for, but the shy element of her trying to hide her face is still very much present. "Admit it, you're glad you let me kidnap you."

"Is that what this was?"

"Will you stay tonight too?"

"Yeah...I'll stay. I like listening to you talk anyway." Y/n smiles while he grins kissing her again.

"You can stay with me and listen to me talk for hours."

#f1 #fanfic #formula 1 #lando norris #lando #lando norris imagine #lando x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #norris #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #mclaren

[viennakarma]

Say something (I'm giving up on you)

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Summary: Your husband tells you the truth about Vegas, and it makes your perfect sandcastle crumble.

Word count: 6k

Tags: Female reader, established relationship, wife reader, reader is an architect, cheating, smut, mild somnophilia, mentions of pregnancy and children, very very angsty, no hea, not beta read

Relationships: Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Notes: To be honest, this is very personal and something I needed to get off my chest before going back to my WIPs lol. Sorry if it's rushed or something, I was just going with the flow. Feedback and opinions are appreciated xx

Find me on Twitter!

Ending 1: moving on

Ending 2: forgiving

Ending 3: a secret third thing (blurb)

As soon as you got out of the shower, a robe on your body and a towel around your head, you noticed how Lewis was sitting there, looking somewhat defeated.

“Hey, I know this season wasn’t what you expected but I’m sure it will get better,” you muttered, noticing how he was down, you stood between his legs, holding his head, pushing his braids away from his face, “I’m hoping you’ll have a great car next year. I’ll put the kettle on, so we can drink a little tea.”

He didn’t answer as you pecked his lips and went downstairs. You had just turned the kettle on when Lewis came down too, stopping in the middle of the kitchen.

“I need to tell you something,” he started and you paused, waiting, “something happened in Vegas.”

You felt your heart accelerate, you didn’t like that tone, so instead of asking more, you just waited, holding your breath.

“I cheated.”

It’s like you were punched in the gut, and you gasped for air. Your eyes immediately teared up, but you held in, waiting for his next words. You held yourself up with both hands on the kitchen island, because your legs felt like they might just give in. You stared at him, numb. Waiting for it to be some sick and unfunny joke, but the guilt in his eyes was so real.

“It happened in Vegas, and it didn’t mean anything at all, and I’m so so sorry, I know I should never have done it, and I regret it. I love you so much, I never wanted to hurt you, please believe me, I’ll do anything for your forgiveness, whatever you want just say th-”

At that point you stopped listening, looking down at your hand sprawled on the countertop, the wedding band and the engagement ring you wore on top of it felt like they were burning, like a curse just about to ruin your perfect life.

Like a beautiful sandcastle crumbling under a big wave, your perfect life came crashing down, with a couple of words and one single decision that never came from you. Your plans, your dreams, your future that always had Lewis beside you now were turning to dust. And it hurt like fucking hell, like you were under the wreckage, something heavy compressing your chest leaving you to die an agonizing death.

Lewis walked up to you, trying to take your hand but you moved out of his reach, taking a step back.

“Please, just say something. Anything. Please, love. Scream at me, hit me, key my car, anything. Please, say something,” He begged you, and all you could feel was pain, a knot in your stomach as you walked away, numbly going back to your room, locking the door behind you because you could hear him coming after you.

You held your head, this feeling of despair gnawing your insides, and you pulled the wedding band and engagement ring out, leaving it at the bedside table. Your tears came down and you looked at the bed were you had made love on the night before, were you had fucked his brains out just because you wanted him to feel better, after being upset with how the season ended. He hid this information for more than a week, because you had been in Abu Dhabi with him for moral support. Crying, you pull off the bed sheets, leaving them on the floor when the knot in your stomach makes you too nauseous. Running to the bathroom, you puke your disgust away, crying and dry heaving after there was nothing left in your stomach.

You were going to leave your job next year because you two were planning to try for kids. You were going to dedicate yourself to finally writing your book. You were going to join him the whole season, to never leave his side, to go wherever he went. You were going to buy a place in his hometown too, to be close to his family whenever you two had the time. You had planned to have a baby in England, because of Lewis.

How after five years together, after two years of marriage you had crafted your life around his. How you’d drop everything to make him happy, because his happiness made you happy. He knew cheating was your only and strongest dealbreaker, you had told him countless times during your relationship, you had reminded him before the wedding too, and he had said he would never be interested in anyone else.

You pulled a towel from under the sink and sobbed into it. You could still hear his voice outside, muffled by the door. Going back to bed, you put your wedding band back again, staring at it as a token of your happiest years.

You cried yourself to sleep.

The next morning you woke up and did your morning routine in pain. It was like you had to live feeling the pulsating pain of a broken bone. As you opened the door, Lewis was sleeping on the hallway floor by the door. Avoiding him, you went to the kitchen, but you didn’t have the energy to cook anything, so you grabbed the key of one of his cars and left for a coffee shop.

Everything felt like an out of body experience, like you were in automatic mode, going with the flow, buying a muffin and a tea because that’s what you did every time. Greeting the waitress with a small smile, like always. The only difference was going back to the car instead of eating inside the cafe, and eating there, pushing food inside so you could have some resemblance of normalcy. Your phone had been ringing for the past thirty minutes non stop, the ringtone you had put specifically for him, the song you had your first dance in your wedding. You think about that Lewis, that man who would never do anything that could hurt you. The one with dreams and promises, the man who would say he wanted kids with you, the one who always had a description of the kids you would have. She’ll have your eyes and my hair, he would say, daydreaming, hopefully she’ll have your beautiful smile, Lew, you would add.

Driving around for a while, your phone on Do not disturb, you watched the streets of Monaco, bustling with people, locals and tourists, walking around, going to boutiques and cafés, and you noticed how Monaco had never been your first choice to live in. You would rather a place a little bit colder, with lots of libraries and historical places, with mountains and lakes.

You went back home hours later, and as soon as you got inside, you were faced with Lewis, pale and visibly worried, phone in hand.

“Oh my god, I was so worried! I thought- I thought you had left me- Where were you?”

“Driving” you kicked your shoes and went to the kitchen to drink water. After downing two full glasses, you went outside, sitting by the view of the city.

You painfully loved him, the kind of love you once were happy to let yourself dive in, and now you were drowning.

“Please, can we talk about it?” He asked, by the balcony door as if he were afraid to scare you away like a skittish animal. You nodded, and he carefully sat on the chair beside you. “Can we work on it? Do you think you may have it in your heart to forgive me?”

“I don’t know, Lewis, I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.”

“We can do marriage counseling, we can do anything you want, we can- we can move, buy another place, we can adopt a kitten, like you’ve always wanted, or we can renew our vows, I can gi-give you a pass, so we’ll be even-”

“I honestly don’t know how to fix this, Lewis. I’m not sure it’s even fixable.”

You two stared into the horizon, lost in thoughts.

“Give me a chance, and I’ll fix it, love. I’ll do everything in my power to fix it.”

“Tell me what happened,” you commanded, not looking at him.

“Love, please, don’t do this.”

“You want to fix this, right? Then start by telling me the whole truth.”

And he did. He told you who was, Kate-something, an influencer who had been a fling of his from the past, before you. They had met unexpectedly during the Vegas Grand Prix, she had been invited by some other team. He told you almost everything, leaving out details about the sex, but he told you everything else, and you listened, unmoved, only the tears falling down nonstop.

The next couple of days consisted of Lewis buying you things, food, jewelry, clothes and planning a trip for after the holidays. You slept in your room, and Lewis slept in the guest room, giving you space, to whenever you were comfortable to share a bed with him again. You had every meal together, sometimes he cooked, sometimes he had it delivered. You tried to engage in conversation, but in the end, Lewis was doing most of the talking. Chatting about news of his friends, about his team, about the plans for the trip.

As you sat in the office, you opened a drawer and picked up your resignation letter. You had left it written to hand it when you got back from the holidays. The letter was brief, thanking everyone for the opportunity to work at their company, thanking your boss for all the lessons and explaining you were leaving to become a homemaker. You scoffed at it now, ripping the letter in half and throwing it in the trash.

Maybe you needed to take a step back from everything. The plans and the dreams and the future. Maybe you just needed to give him a chance, you loved him so much, and this kind of love doesn’t go away with a snap of the fingers.

Maybe he was right and if you two started all over, maybe you could fix this.

“I know it might be too soon, but would you consider going on a date? Just like the old times,” he asked one morning a few days later, as you ate breakfast.

“Sure, Lewis.”

He nodded, and you knew he was feeling the way you didn’t call him love or honey anymore. He planned a date that same night. You dressed up to the nines, just to feel some normalcy, just to feel like yourself again. You had dressed in a black long sleeved dress, with some transparency in the sleeves, a black scarpin and you tied your hair in an elegant high ponytail and those bright red lipsticks Lewis liked.

He looked at you in wonder as you came down the stairs.

“You look stunning, my love.” He whispered, taking your hand and making you spin. You felt that spark in your stomach again, well, a little bit of that.

He took you to a two star restaurant, one you’d always go on date nights. He also drove you there in your favorite Mercedes. You decided to put in the effort, to make conversation, to engage with him the whole night. You ate, talked, laughed and drank a couple of wine glasses.

By the end of the night, you had felt a resemblance of normalcy again. When Lewis was picking the tab, you went to the toilet, and you saw a woman trying to change a baby’s diaper. She dropped the box of wet wipes, and you bent down to pick it.

“Thank you, lovely!” She said as you handed it back. You peeked at the baby, a little girl who couldn’t be older than a year.

“Hi there, princess!” You said with a baby voice.

“Can you keep an eye on her just as I pee quickly, I’m sorry to bother,” the mother asked.

“Don’t worry,” you said, carrying the baby she had just finished changing. As the woman entered the stall, you decided to ask, “How has it been, being a mom?”

“Oh, it’s amazing. Of course it’s not easy, but my husband has been a great help around the house and the baby. I couldn’t be happier!”

You looked to the mirror, the baby in your arms, and you imagined living this with Lewis. And you just couldn’t. Because he wouldn’t be there all the time anyway. He would be traveling the world, racing for his championship, you would follow him, but at some point you would have to stop, you would have to settle home the last trimester, and he wouldn’t be there. Would he miss your baby’s birth?

You wondered if he would cheat again when you weren’t there.

As you left the toilet, your mood had dwindled again.

Lewis noticed as you were quiet going home, head against the window, watching the city and mumbling the song playing in the car.

As you arrived home, you pushed Lewis against the sofa, he looked confused, but his eyes followed your hands as you pulled your dress up, bunching it around your hips so you could straddle his lap.

“Baby, I don’t think w-” he started talking, but you held his chin.

“Shut the fuck up,” you said, pressing your lips against his.

You kissed him like you were starved, showing him how much you missed him, how much you loved him. He let you guide the kiss, opening your mouth and entangling your tongues, your hips grinding on him. He whispered nonsense as he kissed your face and neck, I missed you so much, love, nibbling at your neck, I love you my baby, pulling your dress down to free your tits, sucking on your nipples, missed this, baby, you’re so fucking sexy, you ground on him, moving and moaning as his hand held your ass, guiding your movements. You were so wet, you missed his touch so much.

As you looked down, seeing his lips latched onto your nipple, your mind drifted, wondering if he touched the other woman like this, if he talked dirty to her like that.

And you were immediately turned off.

“Stop, stop,” you pushed him and he let you go easily, scrambling to the sofa and away from his lap, “red, red!” You shouted your safe word.

Breathless, Lewis nodded, as you quickly pulled the cups of your dress up, covering your boobs and pulled your dress down, eyes watering. He stared at you, confused and not knowing how to act. You two were very creative in the bedroom, but you only used the safe word a few times whenever you two were in the mood for some BDSM scenes, you had never used your safe word in a normal setting.

“Are you ok?” He asked, finally and you just shook your head.

“Was she better than me?” You asked, voice small and vulnerable.

“What? Baby, no, never! You’re my everything.” He sat by your side, but you stood up in wobbly legs, nervous.

You wanted to ask why, if you were enough, if you were everything, then why he felt the need to do it. Why would he throw away so many years, such a beautiful love story that you used to joke you would tell your grandkids about.

You started walking away, but Lewis ran up to you and blocked your path.

“Please, let’s talk it out,” He asked, eyes pleading. You stared at his lips, and something inside you just snapped.

“I don’t want to talk! FUCK!” You pushed past him, “I look at you and I can only picture you with her! I feel your hands on my body and I hate it because I can only think of you touching her, and kissing her and fucking making love to her! Look at us! Look at everything you ruined because you just couldn’t not get your dick wet! Because you couldn’t wait five fucking days for me!”

You tried not to sob, running a hand over your face.

“And you were perfect and I love you, and I hate myself for loving you because I don’t trust you! I keep thinking that if one day I miss the flight to your race, will you cheat again? If- if I have to work and you suddenly feel lonely, will you cheat again? If we fight for some reason, will you cheat again?”

“We can fix this, we go to counseling or-

“FIX WHAT? I didn’t break anything! Because I love you so much that the idea of lying with another man disgusts me! You broke my heart, our home and our future!”

He was crying too when you looked at him.

You took the keys to his car and slipped away, driving around, trying to clear your head. Deep down you wished you could forgive and forget, you wished you could get over that mistake, but now everything around the house reminds you of his mistake.

You lost control of the car and crashed against a tree. It wasn’t a big crash, even though the hood of the car looked totalled. You called someone to take the destroyed car away, and you took an Uber to the hospital, just to make sure you didn’t hit your head too hard. In the hospital, they put a bandaid on the small cut and you held an ice pack above the swelling in the side of your forehead, they also gave you a few pills for the pain and possible headache.

You went back home hours later, and Lewis was waiting by the living room.

“Where were-” he stopped short, seeing the small cut on your forehead, “oh, god, what happened?”

“I crashed your car, I’m sorry. It wasn’t a big deal, I’m ok,” you walked into the kitchen to take one of the pills for the incoming headache.

“What? Why didn’t you call me?” Lewis followed you.

“It wasn’t a big deal,” you repeated calmly.

“Are you kidding me? You’re bleeding!”

“I’m not, it was just a small piece of glass that grated my forehead, but I’m ok, it doesn’t really hurt,” you muttered, wanting to go to sleep, “I’m sorry about your car, I’ll pay to get it fixed.”

“I don’t give a fuck about the car! I’m worried about you!” He came closer, holding your face with both hands, looking around for any more injuries.

You stared at his face, his eyes that had been such a source of happiness and unconditional love were now painful to see. Handsome still, but you couldn’t see him as yours anymore. You took his hands off you gently.

“I’m ok. I’ll pay for your car.” You reinforced, taking a step back.

“Our car, love. You’re my wife. And you don’t have to pay for it.” He corrected you, but you couldn’t feel anything.

Because the car was his. All the cars were his. The house was his, too. The dog was his. The properties. Everything belonged to him. You belonged to him the whole time. And now you just didn’t anymore.

You had signed a prenup before the wedding, which had been an idea that came from Lewis’ lawyer. Your husband had been angrily against it, but you didn’t mind signing it, because it was never about the money. Even upset signing the prenup, Lewis still took all of your expenses, bills, house and cars, and everything else. There was a cheating clause on that document, one you never bothered to read or memorize because cheating was never on your mind.

A couple of days later you had barely said a word to him, and you were having breakfast when he approached you.

“I’ll call mum later, to tell her we’re not going to her birthday dinner,” Lewis informed you.

“No, we’re going. We’re not going to spoil her celebration because of our problems,” you shook your head.

So you went to dinner at his mom’s. Everyone was there and you brought her a gold necklace with a peony pendant, since it was her favorite flower. You and Lewis tried to pretend nothing was wrong as to not ruin the mood of the night. You still sat by his side, ate and talked with everyone. Lewis knew you were faking being ok, because your smiles didn’t reach your eyes anymore, and every time he tried any physical touch like holding hands, putting a hand on your shoulder or pulling you to his lap, your body would tense up, so he would let go of you.

By then end of the night, you were pretty sure everyone had believed your act, but when Carmen asked for help with taking her presents upstairs, you knew she knew too.

“What is going on, love? You’re not your usual self today.”

You felt your eyes filling up and you couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. You adored Carmen, you adored Lewis’ family, his siblings, his parents and his nephews and nieces. But Carmen had become a second mum to you from the beginning, being the first person to welcome you with open arms.

“Talk to me, dear,” she asked and the kindness in her voice made you cry even more, sobbing so much she had to hug you holding you tight.

“This is probably the last time we’ll see each other as family, Carmen,” you warned her, and her face crumbled just like yours did.

“No… No, honey, what happened?” She asked, and you shook your head.

“You talk to him later, and I’m sure he will tell you whenever he’s ready,” you muttered, not wanting to meddle in a mother-son relationship, not wanting to poison it. You pulled the engagement ring from your finger, the beautiful engraved jewel, that had belonged to Carmen's family for generations, had ended up with you, and you had expected to pass it down to a kid you’d have with Lewis. You gave the ring back to her.

“For when he finds the one.”

“No, you’re the one for him, honey,” she exclaimed, teary eyed.

“I wish I was, but I’m not,” you stared longingly at the ring sitting on the palm of her hand.

“One day he will need it again, and he will find someone and you’ll love her just as much. I’ll be just the distant past, but I hope you save a little space in your heart for me, yeah?” You laughed a little bit, wiping the tears on your cheeks. She only nodded, her own tears falling down. “Thank you for taking me in all these years, for embracing me into your family, I’m very grateful for that.”

You two cried a little more, and you tried to mask your crying face after a few minutes in the bathroom.

In the end, unfortunately, Lewis' family convinced you to stay the night since it would be a long drive back to Lewis’ place in London. You ended up sharing a bed for the first time since he admitted to cheating. You laid there with your back turned to him in the dark.

You couldn’t sleep for a couple of hours, but he did. When you turned back around, you stared at his beautiful face. Your dreamy, handsome husband. You softly traced imaginary lines in his face, tracing his eyebrows and nose, the tip of your finger running over his lips and cupids’ bow. How could you love someone so deeply and still not want to be with them? How could you not just put everything behind?

He knew you so well, he knew of you past of being cheated on, of going through abusive relationships. He knew where you draw the lines. He knew your limitations and still went ahead with cheating on you.

You got up from the bed, you went to the small armchair, opening your iPad to try and watch a movie or something to help you sleep. But as you unlocked it, the tab open was the project you had made for the family home you and Lewis were going to build for when you had kids. The finished project hit you like a punch in the gut.

You went inside the bathroom and took a break. It was the middle of the night, and everyone was asleep, so you just sat on the closed toilet to try and calm down the aching pain in your chest. When you came back, Lewis was awake going through your iPad you had left unlocked.

“What’s- What’s this?”

“It’s the project for our home, I was going to gift it to you on your birthday,” you whispered, sitting by his side on the floor, your backs to the bed.

Lewis sniffled, and you didn’t look at his face because you didn’t want to see him cry. He kept looking at the project, going page after page, seeing all the details you had thoughtfully put there. He started crying even harder when he saw the nurseries you had designed. When he saw the tennis court, because you and him loved playing with his dad, and talked countless times about teaching your kids to play. When Lewis saw the big kitchen with the panel wall where you could place pictures and drawings and notes. When he saw the sunroom, with toys and your small library, and Lewis’ videogames. All the tidbits you and him had dreamed about during your five years relationship.

“We can’t let this all go, love” he said between soft cries.

“God, I hate metaphors,” you whispered, drying the tears that came down, “but we’re a broken mirror, Lewis. We can try and fix it, and glue all the pieces back together, but the cracks will still be there.”

“I don't know how I messed up this badly, I don’t even know why-” he set the iPad down, staring at his hands, “I’m so sorry, so so sorry.”

You only nodded, getting up. You went back to bed, laying under the covers.

“I know,” you whispered after a few minutes. He came back to bed too, laying beside you without touching you.

“The project is beautiful. I love it.” He muttered staring at the ceiling.

“I do too.”

When you left his mom’s house, with a tight goodbye hug with Carmen, Lewis had to go to Brackley for work and you went back to Monaco. 

You thought you may have a chance to fix everything. But as the days he was away passed, you started to wonder if he went to England to really work. If he wasn’t going to meet someone, the Kate-something, or any other of his flings from the past. If he even was in Brackley as he said he was.

The trust was gone.

As if it wasn’t bad enough as it was, the lady, Kate-something texted you. You had no idea how she got your number, and the text read:

“Ask your husband what he did after the Las Vegas GP.”

You scoffed, thinking she was a little late for a shocking revelation. You screenshotted the text just in case and blocked her number after, without bothering to let Lewis know about it.

You were one foot out of the door already.

The dreaded day came when you met with a lawyer, a big shot famous lawyer who always worked with famous people when they wanted a low profile divorce. She was very respectful of all your wishes, though with the small fortune you were going to pay for her services, being polite and helpful was the least she could do. She drafted a divorce agreement following all your requirements, especially in regards to the prenup.

The next few days, you read and reread the divorce papers, leaving them in the locked drawer in your office.

When Lewis came back from the Mercedes factory, it was night and you were having a glass of wine by the balcony.

“Want a nightcap?” You offered your glass to him. He nodded, taking a sip off the half full glass, “how was work?”

He told you about all the work in the factory, going to dinner with his teammate and meeting with his boss. It was almost like before, for a few minutes it was just a regular day in your married life. Lewis helped you put everything away in the kitchen and you went upstairs.

When he was about to go into the guest room, you stopped him.

“Lewis,” you asked and he looked at you hopefully, “can you sleep with me tonight?”

“Whatever you want, love.”

So you settled in for sleep, both of you going through your nightly routine, and finally, laying in bed. You took the initiative to cuddle him, nose against his neck, inhaling his scent and your ear above his heart.

You slept great for the first time since you were in separate beds. But you woke up in the middle of the night. And the way the little lampshade by the bedside table lit up the side of his face, peacefully asleep, handsome and yours. Fully yours still.

You couldn’t help the small kiss on his chest, above his heart, the other kiss on his cheek, and a third one on his neck, that had him waking up.

“Baby?” Lewis looked at you. You kissed his lips, open mouthed, sloppy and desperate.

“Shh,” you kissed his chest again, now he was fully awake, surrendered under your touch. You straddled him, your body missing him so much, his touch and his love, and the twilight making everything feel like before, you couldn’t help but desire him with burning passion.

“Love,” he stopped you, holding your jaw softly, “are you sure?”

“Please, just be mine tonight, yeah?” You asked him in a small voice.

“I’m yours forever, love.”

And so you drowned in him, one last time. You tossed your pajamas away, as he sat up in the bed, kissing your neck down, biting softly at your nipples, taking it painfully slow just in case you changed your mind. You ground against him, his cock hard under your ministrations. You pulled his pants down, and he kicked it to the floor, as you slid your cunt over his length, dripping over him, moaning loud and hearing his groans as his hands settled on your hips, letting you take control, doing whatever you wanted.

You got on your knees just so you could line him up at your entrance, pushing down slowly, letting him stretch you well, your body accommodating him perfectly like it should always be. And so you started riding him, slowly at first, but then you pounded him into the mattress, fucking him into oblivion. His hands were all around, pinching your nipples, gripping your waist and slapping your ass the way he knew drove you crazy. He fingered your clit, making you cum around his cock shamelessly fast, hips shaking and cunt gripping him tight.

“Can- oh, fuck,” he asked after a particularly hard clench of your dripping cunt, “-Can you give me one more, my baby?”

Then, he changed positions, laying you by his side, hugging you with one arm and using the other to lift your leg so he could have room to fuck you slow, lazy and nice, pressing your g-spot again and again. He smothered your lips with his tongue and teeth, stealing your moans, as your hands pressed his body into yours. You wanted to melt into him, to leave fingerprints and nail marks all over him. You wanted him to have a permanent indentation of your body pressed to his.

Selfishly, you wanted him to never forget you. To be a part of him in the forever he promised you. Even if you won’t be there.

“Look at me,” he asked, and you opened your eyes to meet his dark molten embers so full of love that it threatened to suffocate you, “you’re the only woman for me. You’re my everything.”

He picked up the pace a little, going harder, until he had you gushing around him, making a mess of your sheets and milking him until he was groaning, hips stuttering into release.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so good. Feel so good for me,” he murmured into the dark, “I love you so so much.”

You two hugged back to sleep.

In the morning you showered, brushed your teeth and changed. You stopped in the middle of the room, staring at Lewis’ sleeping form. In the closet you packed a bag, putting clothes and shoes on it, then you grabbed your iPad, laptop and work stuff, then you called a taxi and waited.

You left the divorce agreement on the kitchen island, alongside your wedding band, your lawyer’s contact information and a small note. You were crying as you got into the taxi, leaving behind the future plans you had hoped to live.

It took you a couple of months to get your shit together. You spent Christmas with your family only for the first time in years, and you didn’t travel for New Year’s Eve with Lewis as planned, you didn’t resign from your job, instead opting for a relocation so you could move away.

Finding a new place in Scotland was relatively easy considering you had a good amount of savings because Lewis always paid all the bills, you found a place where you could dedicate yourself to work and to write your book and to heal.

•

Lewis found the house empty that next morning. You had made love to him again, and he thought that maybe you two could salvage the marriage. But as he looked for you around the house, he found the divorce agreement in the kitchen. His stomach dropped as he held your wedding band, and the other hand found your note.

“Seems like I’m a coward too, since I can’t face you to say goodbye. Take this divorce agreement to your lawyer, and any questions you might have, please forward it to my lawyer, she’ll explain everything. I love you, but I don’t trust you. And nothing good can be built in a trustless marriage. The next time you find a good one, don’t break her heart.”

He cried like a baby, going over your divorce agreement that was signed by you. You had given up everything, you didn’t want anything of his, not any cars or property, not any financial support, not even the house that had your name on it too. You voided the prenup, stating that you didn’t want the alimony that came with the cheating clause. Looked like a clean break, like you didn’t want anything that could tie you to Lewis.

He tried calling you and texting you, but seemed like you had blocked him on everything. He went through the motions, meeting with your lawyer who, despite the fame of being tough, was really kind to him. He told your lawyer that he wanted you to take the alimony that came with the cheating clause because it was only fair, and he wouldn’t sign the divorce if you didn’t accept the money.

So after a few weeks, Lewis' lawyer got in contact to tell him you accepted the money, as long as he would sign the divorce as soon as possible. By the New Year, you were officially a divorced couple.

•

You got settled on your new home by the end of the first month of the year, three weeks after the divorce was finalized. You moved to a little north of Edinburgh, not too far from the city, but far enough that you could have some sense of peace and privacy.

You still had a tan line on your ring finger of the left hand.

You only realized your period was late the week later, as you were doing grocery shopping and house supplies, and you noticed you haven’t got your period for a while. Despite being a grown woman, worker and independent, you felt shaky fingers as you took a pharmacy test.

While you waited, you stayed in front of the mirror. You had felt a bit of nausea, but you attributed it to stress and disgust, and you had been feeling tired but you thought it was because of the moving and all the paperwork. You ran your palm over your stomach, trying to feel something, but it felt so normal.

When the time’s up and you leaned over the sink to check the result, you sighed reading the 8 - 10 weeks pregnant.

“That’s ok, baby,” you whispered, teary eyed, “we’re gonna be ok.”

Ending 1: moving on

Ending 2: forgiving

Ending 3: a secret third thing (blurb)

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fic #formula 1 #formula one #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton +18 #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton x reader #Spotify

[emmyrosee]

“Don’t look at me like that. Freak.”

Kiyoomi’s words have you snapping out of your daze of, indeed, staring at him, blinking lazily and smiling dopily at him. His fingers continue to thumb through his book, just as he has been for as long as you’ve been staring at him.

Usually, Kiyoomi won’t say anything in regards to your staring, normally opting to be quiet and merely continue with his day, but today, he knows something feels different.

You have to get closer to him.

Your perch on the couch has you strangely close enough, close enough you smell his curl cream and the natural scent his body has due to not applying cologne or lotion.

He smells so good. You have to get closer.

“Stop staring at me.”

“I can’t. It’s against the rules.”

“Well my rules are: I’m gonna beat you up if you don’t at least blink while you stare at me. Feel those damn eyes fixated on mine.”

You laugh but say nothing, merely scooting closer.

“I love you,” you purr, kissing his cheek. He hums contently before gently grabbing your chin to keep you close, and he turns his head away from his book to kiss you properly.

Even sitting, you’re weakened from the affection, elbow buckling under the weight of holding you up being tampered with by the affection.

You have. To. Get. Closer.

“Kiyoomi?”

“Yeah babe?”

“You know how sometimes I really like skin to skin?”

Kiyoomi flicks his eyes up at the sky, both in thought and in preparation for your question, “yes. Yes I do.”

“I love you,” you assure once more.

Before he can question, it’s too late. You’re getting closer.

“What’re you do- AYE! HEY! NO-“

It’s too late. With a smile, you force yourself under his shirt, his hands failing (and, to be honest, not trying very hard) to still you and get you back out of the shirt. He squirms slightly under the feeling of you jamming yourself under the fabric with him, trying to shove you out because yeah, he loves you, but what in the sam hell are you doing?

Threads in his shirt start popping, and he screams in agony once again, “I LIKE THIS SHIRT, NO!”

As if he’s truly trying to make you stop.

He could easily stop you, he’s done it before, he’s not fooling you any time soon.

“Just- hold on, let me-“ you show no signs of stopping your squirming.

“It ticKLES FUCK OFF!” He snarls, and he sends you a glare of rage once your head pops through the head hole with him.

Basically nose to nose with him, you smile and nudge him softly, “hi you.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then, he lets out a hot breath of fury through his nose.

“Listen,” he whispers yells, and you let out a string of giggles. “No, you listen to me-“

“Okay.”

“This has got to stop- between you stealing them and you destroying them, I’m running out of shirts!”

“So don’t wear any,” you offer, and his face drops in annoyance and a roll of his eyes, and you laugh harder despite being pinned against him.

“No,” he snarls again, voices still pitched in a whisper, “no, you can’t keep doing this, just bite me for fucks sake! There’s no need for this!”

“Okay,” You say, and before he can even take his words back, you sink your teeth against his nose, biting softly while still giggling at his expense. He blinks unamused at you, clearly still in the act that he’s mad at you. “Sounds like you really just want me to bite you, Kiyoomi. Should I accept the invite?”

“IF IT KEEPS YOU FROM GRABBING MY TEETH, SNIFFING UNDER MY ARMS, AND CRAWLING IN MY SHIRTS, YES!” He barks, and you wheeze before thunking your head against him.

“You and I both know that those are not going to stop,” you assure.

He sighs, “yeah, I heard it as soon as I said it.”

“Glad we’re on the same page,” you say, giving him a small kiss for compensation. Then, you look around, your neck starting to hurt from being crinkled, “so… how do we get out of this?”

“YOU PUT US IN THIS!”

“Yeah but I have to pee.” You smack on a pair of puppy eyes and he rolls his, “unless… you don’t mind-“

“I’d rather rip this shirt to shreds and have you piss on it, than carry you to the bathroom and pee attached to you. I don’t love you that much.”

Liar.

Regardless, he pulls against you to try and pop the threads, back arching to force you up. You giggle and whine as you plant your hands on his chest, trying to push against him. The shirt stretches quite a bit under your forces, and with another grunt of effort, Kiyoomi reaches around you to grip the collar in his massive hands, and with one final shred, the shirt comes apart; it frees you both from the prison of fabric, and you let out a breath at the feeling of being released.

Now that there’s shreds of shirt in his hands, mouth releasing pants of adrenaline out, you do feel a little bad for it; with a small frown, you lean back next to him as he gathers the small bits of fabric, and you him for his attention. He glared at you from under his lashes.

“Thank you for getting us out,” you plant a compensatory kiss on his lips, initially to be used as a peck, but your heart beats wildly as one hand come up to cradle your head and keep you there as a proper kiss.

“I’ll always get you out,” he says simply against your lips.

When he doesn’t let go of your head though, your heart beats a little bit faster.

“Kiyoomi?”

“What?” The intensity of his kisses grow. You start to giggle against his lips, your hands planting on his shoulders to try and force some distance. “Why’re you freaking out?”

“Let me go!” Your words are smushed against his lips. He chuckles and pushes you impossibly closer, the entirety of his weight flipping on you and keeping you pinned. You squeal and try to fight more, only resulting in his kisses being planted down your neck and chin, making you erupt into more laughter.

“Thought you wanted to be close to me.”

“Too close!” You titter.

You feel him smirk against your skin.

“No such thing.”

#sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi fluff #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader fluff #sakusa kiyoomi x gn!reader #sakusa kiyoomi imagine #sakusa kiyoomi haikyuu #sakusa #sakusa fluff #sakusa x reader #sakusa x reader fluff #sakusa x gn!reader #sakusa imagine #sakusa haikyuu #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x gn!reader #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x yn #haikyuu x reader fluff

[suzukiblu]

Excerpt from the one where Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it.

(The read-more is definitely necessary, length-wise. I . . . got very into this idea and frankly this is barely a third of it so far, lol.)

"So, uh . . ." Kon says, skeptically eyeing the softly glowing rock in his hand. Metallo, like, threw it at his head. He has no idea why. "Is this supposed to do something or . . . ?"

"It's pink," Kara says leerily, staying very firmly back. Like, unexpectedly far back, in fact.

"Yeah, I'm not actually blind, thanks," Kon says, turning the rock over and squinting at it. It continues not to do anything, aside from the glowing thing.

"No, it's pink kryptonite," she stresses.

". . . it literally doesn't hurt at all, though?" Kon says. Though he probably should've figured it was some kind of kryptonite, given that Metallo had it and had apparently thought he could hurt him with it.

Seriously, though, his gloves are fingerless and he's got it right in his hand. It should be hurting him, if it's actually kryptonite.

"Pink kryptonite doesn't work like that," Kara says, edging a little farther back. They're floating a few hundred feet in the air right now, but from the way she's acting Kon's vaguely concerned that he might be about to explode or something. "It just affects our sexual . . . urges."

"Oh," Kon says, frowning in confusion. Weird, but . . . "Is that all?"

"I don't mean like it makes you horny, Kon, I mean like it makes you homosexual," Kara hisses, looking mortified. "And don't ask how I know, alright?!"

Kon . . . blinks.

"What the literal fuck?" he asks incredulously, just staring at her. "How does that even–are you telling me Metallo went and chucked gay kryptonite at me in the middle of a fight?"

"Yes!" Kara says, still clearly mortified. "So just–just stay over there with it until somebody shows up with a lead box, okay?! The effects will stop after we get it contained."

"Alright, alright. So then do you think the dude was flirting with me or is he just a fucking idiot?" Kon jokes, balancing the kryptonite on his index finger with his TTK. "Although I really don't think he'd be my type either way. Like, nothing against cyborgs in general, obviously, just the whole thing with him being a murderous supervillain who literally runs on kryptonite seems like it'd make us totally star-crossed. I want somebody I can actually commit to, you know?"

"Sure," Kara says, still eyeing the kryptonite with serious trepidation. It's really not helping Kon feel less like a time bomb, to be honest. Is there like some other side effect that he should be worrying about right now or something? Like, is he missing something here?

"You seem kinda high-strung about this," he observes, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Look, you'd have avoided it too if you'd dealt with it before!" she says protestingly. "So stay over there and definitely keep it away from Kal, I don't know if Jimmy ever really recovered from the last time."

"Oh, well, congrats to Jimmy, I guess," Kon says, since he can't really see a downside to scoring a one-night stand with Superman. Like, a downside for somebody who isn't literally his clone, he means. The clone thing would definitely make it weird.

Just it's also Clark, though, so he'd probably be the generous type in bed. Like, the sort to really take care of somebody. Be as gentle as happened to be appropriate but also be down if his partner maybe wanted it a little rough for whatever reason. And he'd definitely be able to go all night. Again, Kon isn't gonna go there himself, it really would be too weird, but he can make a logical conclusion. Extrapolate one. Whatever.

Then again he'd be down with Power Girl absolutely destroying him whenever the fuck she wanted to and she's genetically his . . . some form of cousin or something, he guesses. His half-cousin from another reality. So really, Clark's not even that weird an option. And like, all appearances aside Kon's a binary clone anyway, not even a one-for-one match, sooooo . . .

Actually it's probably weirder that he thinks Power Girl is so unspeakably hot but comparatively Kara is just . . . fine? Like, that's a little odd, isn't it?

Maybe it's an attitude thing. Or the costume.

Might be safe to blame the costume, yeah.

It's just such a good costume. Like, Kon aspires to reach that level of costume.

But really, all that aside he still doesn't even know what the big deal about temporarily going gay is, although to be fair he's also currently talking to Supergirl and not, like . . . literally any dude whatsoever. So like, who knows how weird this stuff might actually make him under those circumstances. Maybe it like fucks with inhibitions and stuff too?

Yeah, hell if he knows. He's really only dealt with green kryptonite before. He was vaguely aware that other colors existed and apparently did different stuff, but . . . this just seems very different, put it that way.

Maybe best to avoid Jimmy Olsen for a little while, Kon decides privately. The guy probably doesn't need that.

Besides, Clark apparently got there first anyway and Kon just really doesn't want to be worrying about measuring up. Miss him with that, thanks.

. . . although maybe he'll go visit Tim later.

Eh, no, Kara made it sound like the pink K's gonna stop affecting him pretty quick once they box it up, so not much point in bothering. Though maybe he'll visit just to hang, come to think of it; they haven't seen each other in almost a whole week. Well, he hasn't seen Tim, at least–who knows how much Bat-surveillance Tim's seen him through.

Kon should maybe sweep his room for bugs again. Note to self.

Although would it be weird to just like . . . keep the pink kryptonite, maybe? Since it apparently doesn't actually hurt anyone or anything? Because that could be, well . . . just interesting, that's all. Like, Kon is open to exploring that experience. Just–as an experience.

"Actually, you're surprisingly not high-strung about this," Kara says.

"Am I?" Kon asks. "I mean, it's not that big a deal, is it?"

She stares at him.

"Kon," she says slowly. "Pink kryptonite affects your sexuality. It makes you attracted to people you're not normally attracted to. It confuses you and everyone around you and it is really freaking embarrassing to explain afterwards."

"I've been mind-controlled into shaving my head and breaking my best friend's arm," Kon says, continuing to not really see what the big deal is. "That was embarrassing. And fucking traumatic. This? This is just kinda weird."

"Only kinda?" Kara asks incredulously. "You're one of the straightest guys I know! How are you just fine with this?!"

"I mean to be fair, that's probably making some unfair generalizations about straight guys," Kon points out. Kara stares at him. "What?"

"I don't even know how to respond to that," she says.

"Sorry?" Kon says, then tucks the pink kryptonite into his jacket pocket with a shrug. He's not trying to hide it or anything; just getting kinda sick of holding it. And it's that or he either ditches it somewhere or starts tossing it around and that'd probably be . . . just, well, absolutely epically stupid of him.

Or it seems like it would be, anyway. Whatever color it is, it's still kryptonite.

"I mentioned keeping that away from Kal, right?" Kara says.

"Yeah, on that note, are they like . . . done down there yet?" Kon asks, glancing down towards the mess of the street that Clark's standing on a few hundred feet below with a whole bunch of randos from S.T.A.R. Labs, for some reason. Somebody mentioned something about neutralizing Metallo's kryptonite heart without actually killing him, but mostly it was science talk and clearly theoretical anyway so to be honest Kon'd kinda tuned it all out as "not currently relevant", and that's all he knows.

"Definitely not," Kara says.

"I'm gonna call Robin while we're killing time, then," Kon says, pulling out his phone.

"You're going to call your closest male friend," Kara says. "Right now. While you've got pink kryptonite in your pocket."

"Yup," Kon says, already pulling up Tim's contact.

"Can you not see how that might be a bad idea at the moment?" Kara asks. "Not in any way whatsoever?"

"Well I'm not calling Impulse," Kon replies reasonably. Kara stares at him again, for some reason.

Eh, whatever.

He calls Tim.

"Hey, Conner, what's up?" Tim answers distractedly, which Kon doesn't hold against him because when isn't Tim distracted, really. Dude's got too much going on in that head of his, for real. He's just glad the guy ever picks up the phone at all.

"So apparently I'm gay right now," Kon greets conversationally, figuring he should lead with that just in case he actually is about to do something embarrassing to explain. "Pink kryptonite is fucking weird, man."

". . . uh," Tim says as Kara covers her face with her hands. "What?"

"Pink kryptonite makes you gay, Kara says," Kon says. "And we're both just kind of chilling above downtown Metropolis waiting for Kal to finish up with the science-y people so we can get said pink K locked up, so I'm bored out of my mind right now and calling you to complain about it."

"You're calling me," Tim says slowly. "While you're . . . gay."

"What, is he asking to come over?" another voice asks from the phone, sounding amused. It takes Kon a second to recognize it, but–oh yeah, that's the mysterious Bernard, isn't it?

Right, Tim has a boyfriend now. Kon's never actually met him on account of being the worst at secret identities and the whole thing that is Bernard living very firmly in Gotham, land of "no metas allowed unless you're either a supervillain or Batman's too dead to stop you", but he's heard him over the phone a couple times now, although they've never actually personally talked. So maybe thinking about Tim while being high on pink kryptonite isn't actually, like, kosher? Or polite. Or whatever.

. . . then again, Bernard did ask.

"I don't know, maybe?" Kon says thoughtfully, considering the idea. "Are you open to me coming over?"

"Yes," Bernard says.

"Bernard," Tim says.

"Babe, I know we're pretending I don't know you're an ass-kicking vigilante and all but come on, don't make me turn down Superboy," Bernard says wryly.

"We're–wait, pretending?!" Tim sputters.

"Pretending so, so hard," Bernard confirms, sounding nothing but fond. Kon's actually a little jealous of that tone of voice, he's gotta admit. Like–it's been a bit since anybody's talked to him that way, is all. "But like, if you actually thought you were being subtle maybe you shouldn't talk about kryptonite on the phone right in front of me or put themed emojis next to all your superfriends' civilian names in your contacts list?"

"Oh my god, you do that?!" Kon asks with a gleeful cackle, immediately forgetting everything else in favor of that absolutely delightful piece of information. "You're the worst! Batman just rolled over in his grave and Oracle is absolutely losing her shit on the other end of her wiretap!"

"B's not even dead right now," Tim says in exasperation. "And if O cared she'd have already hacked my phone and changed them. And for the record plenty of people put random superhero emojis next to their friends' names, that's a totally normal thing to do!"

"Usually the random superhero emojis aren't associated with contact pics that are dead fucking ringers for said superheroes," Bernard says, sounding amused again. "Just as a thing and all."

". . . anyway so you're gay today, how's that going for you, Conner?" Tim says as Bernard laughs gleefully in the background. "Triggering any unfortunate mental health crisises or anything? Making you worry about the validity of your masculinity? Because I can safely assure you that's all bullshit and you're fine."

"Naw, I know all that, being gay is just a thing," Kon says with a shrug. "Kara's being a little weird about it but honestly it's going way better than, like, the times supervillains mind-controlled me into being into them. Like just as an overall experience, I mean."

"Wait, how many times has that come up?" Tim asks in bemusement.

"I dunno?" Kon shrugs again. "I mean you were there for the Poison Ivy incident, and then Gorgeous Gilly happened to me a while later, which was, uh, genuinely horrifying because she tried to literally marry me during all that, so . . . I think just the twice, probably? But don't quote me on that, I don't even remember what I had for breakfast."

"And how is Kara being weird, exactly?" Tim says in his very unsubtle "assessing my teammate's psychological condition" voice.

"Oh, she's mostly just avoiding me?" Kon says, as a guy who's personally not really all that concerned with his psychological condition at the moment. "Because I've got the rock in my pocket on account of not wanting to just leave it lying around somewhere and she doesn't want to get affected by it. I don't know why, I don't really get why it matters."

"I mean it matters, definitely," Bernard says. "Like it very strongly matters to a lot of people."

"Fair, but I think we're all too invulnerable to really have to worry about getting gay-bashed or anything," Kon reasons. "Like, at least not as a heat of the moment thing."

". . . god can you imagine the world we would live in if every piece of shit gay-basher had to deal with the consequences of punching fucking Superman?" Bernard says feelingly. "For real."

"Oh, pink K's temporary," Kon clarifies. "Kal's not gay anymore."

"Hold up, I'm sorry, are you saying that at some point he was?" Bernard demands in obvious delight. "Is that what you're telling me right now?"

"I guess he was into redheads?" Kon says, tilting his head. "Slightly twinky redheads, specifically. Which I don't blame him for, I'm gonna be honest."

"Well now I know that forever, thanks," Tim says dryly.

"Alternate option: he could've been into Batman," Kon points out.

"Redheads it is," Tim says. "You just . . . redhead away over there."

"I mean I thought about it, kinda," Kon admits.

"Ngh," Tim says, for some reason.

"No thinking about Batman, though?" Bernard asks with a snicker.

"Not so much," Kon says, making a face. "Did consider having some Superman thoughts but I'm apparently not that narcissistic, surprisingly enough."

"Kon!" Kara chokes.

"Tell me you've never considered having Superman thoughts and I'll tell you you're a fucking liar," Kon snorts, shooting her a dry look. "Weren't you like totally naked when you first showed up on Earth? And then he found you like that and wrapped you up in his cape all nice and gentlemanly and took you home with him?"

"He is my baby cousin and you're being affected by pink kryptonite poisoning!" Kara accuses, her face bright red.

"Wait, is it actually poisoning me?" Kon says with a frown. "I feel like you should've led with it actually poisoning me, if that's actually a thing."

"Well no, not actually, it's physically harmless," Kara says grudgingly, folding her arms. "But you're still being affected! You're having Superman thoughts, of all things!"

"He just seems like he'd be considerate," Kon says reasonably. "Like, you know. Biblically."

"Ngh," Tim says, again for no apparent reason. Bernard sounds like he might be laughing. Or choking? Or maybe both; it's unclear.

"Please don't hit on Kal," Kara says. "Especially don't hit on Kal with pink kryptonite in your pocket. I don't want to know how that situation would end up."

"Ideally with him being considerate," Kon says. Tim chokes. Kara covers her face again.

"Does pink kryptonite affect your inhibitions too or are you just always like this?" Bernard asks curiously.

"Eh, pretty sure I'm just always like this, going by the things I've definitely still not been forgiven for saying to Power Girl," Kon says, idly tapping a finger against the side of his phone case. "Like, pretty damn sure at this point."

"That is unfortunately accurate," Tim agrees resignedly.

"So you're saying it is ethically okay to have Superboy over while he's gay," Bernard says in a promisingly speculative tone. Kon grins. Just a little, but yeah–definitely he grins. Kara grimaces, because she is absolutely no fun whatsoever.

Spoilsport.

"I did not in any way say that," Tim retorts dubiously.

"I mean that's what I heard, man, and I'm the one with super-hearing in this conversation," Kon says with a wider grin. "My inhibitions are all inhibited and my personal opinions of people are all the same, I'm just currently batting for the other team."

"So your normal opinion of me is that if you were gay, you'd come over," Tim says dryly.

"Yeah?" Kon says, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, obviously."

"How is that obvious?" Tim says.

"Because I already come over every time you let me," Kon reminds him.

"Oh yeah?" Bernard says slyly. "And how often does he let you come, exactly?"

"Not often enough," Kon replies honestly, and doesn't even bite at the obvious dumb sex joke Bernard so thoughtfully set up for him even though it is frankly painful not to.

"Ngh," Tim says. Kon continues not to understand the reason for him repeatedly making that same weird little noise, but whatever, he guesses. It's Tim, maybe he's stitching his own bullet wounds again or something. Guy's a multi-tasker like that.

"You know this would probably make for a fascinating case study about sexuality, actually," Bernard says musingly. "I mean, all I intend to do is abuse the situation to get into your very tight tights, but seriously, maybe we should all be taking notes or something."

"Ugh, hell no, Rob'll go full Bat if we let him do that," Kon snorts, then smirks. "He can take pictures, though, I know he's into that."

"Ngh," Tim says yet again, accompanied by a weird random "thump". If Kon didn't know better, he'd think he'd just fallen off a chair or something.

"Aw dammit, dude, I think I actually like you as a person now," Bernard says, sniggering. "Are you keeping the kryptonite? Please keep the kryptonite. Like, just for Valentine's and Tim's birthday, that's all I ask."

"Honestly don't know if Superman's gonna let me but I do kinda wanna," Kon admits. It seems pretty convenient, really. And definitely fun.

". . . and you're sure his inhibitions and opinions aren't being influenced in any way, Kara?" Tim asks suspiciously.

"He's really just like this, yeah," Kara says resignedly. "Well admittedly Kal spontaneously developed opinions on window treatments and used the word 'smashing' in cold blood when it happened to him, but that might've just been him sucking at flirting. Because he really does suck at flirting."

"What about when it was you?" Kon asks curiously.

"No one ever said it happened to me," Kara says.

"You kinda implied–"

"No one ever said it happened to me," Kara repeats, narrowing her eyes at him and doing an impressively bad job of acting like she's not blushing.

So it definitely happened to her, yeah.

"Okaaaaay, we'll pretend about that too then," Bernard says. "Well, what are your opinions on window treatments, Conner?"

"That I don't know what they are," Kon says.

"Sounds like he's in his right mind to me," Bernard says.

"He is absolutely not," Kara retorts dubiously.

"I really don't feel weird or anything, I swear," Kon tells her, since he still doesn't get the problem but also doesn't actually want to worry her either. "I don't even feel any different."

"Kon, you are hitting on your best friend and his boyfriend," Kara says. "Together. At once. Simultaneously, one might even say."

"You've met Wonder Girl and Arrowette before, right?" Kon says. "And both the Batgirls? And–"

"Oh my god, Kon," she cuts him off.

"Just saying," he says, then pauses for a moment and frowns consideringly. "Actually, question, how gay is this stuff making me, because while we're on the topic of threeways I kinda always wondered about what Starfire and Nightwing get up to together and if–"

"KON!" Kara yells, covering her ears.

"I'm just asking," he huffs.

"I don't know if it's actually possible to be gay enough to not be into Starfire," Bernard says musingly. "Like I can't imagine how it ever could be."

"Right?" Kon says.

"It's possible to not be into Starfire," Tim says. "Like, theoretically. Asexuals and aromantics both exist, for one."

"Do they?" Kon says doubtfully. "Like in general, sure, but when around specifically Starfire?"

". . . I can't technically prove you wrong due to a lack of reliable evidence but still," Tim says. "The possibility is there. If nothing else the multiverse is a thing."

"Last time I saw her she was wearing half a gold lamé bikini and I am not going to tell you which half or define how loosely I am using the term 'wearing'," Kon says.

"I said it's possible, not probable," Tim says.

"What about you, man, are you the gold lamé type?" Bernard asks with a teasing snicker. "Just while you're gay and all, of course. That's like, practically a cultural thing. Gotta be authentic to the experience, yeah?"

"That is in no way whatsoever a cultural thing, babe," Tim says dubiously.

"Please, like I've never worn freaking lamé," Kon scoffs. "I've worn collars and loincloths and leather and crop tops and enough unnecessary belts to tie up a Bat, lamé is nothing."

"Collars and . . . loincloths?" Bernard repeats, sounding confused.

"Yeah, this one time I crash-landed on a lost isle of beast-men and they kidnapped and enslaved me for a few months," Kon explains, waving a hand distractedly. "Frankly I count myself lucky they even let me have the collar, much less the loincloth."

". . . um," Bernard says.

"You, uh, never mentioned the collar part of that story before, Kon," Tim says, clearing his throat. "You very definitely never mentioned the collar part of that story before."

"Oh yeah, the prince kinda kept me as his pet for a little bit?" Kon tells him with an easy shrug. "Like he and all his buddies ganged up on me and then took me home with them, but I was kinda . . . feral, I guess? Technically? So like, collar and chain setup. But he was cool, he took real good care of me."

"Ngh," Tim says just barely faintly.

"Yeah you should definitely come over," Bernard says. "Tim, get the check. Conner, exactly how super is your super-speed?"

"You can just call me Kon," Kon says. "And . . . mach 3, last I clocked it?"

"Isn't that like two thousand miles per hour?" Bernard asks.

"Two thousand two hundred and twenty-three point three," Kon replies with a pleased smirk. "Faster than a speeding bullet. Or so they tell me."

"We'll just meet you at Tim's, how's that," Bernard says. "That work for you, Kon?"

"That works for me, Bernard," Kon confirms, smirking wider.

"Oh my god, Kon, you cannot possibly be serious right now," Kara says in exasperation, rubbing at her temples. "Just because you're temporarily gay doesn't mean you should do anything about it!"

"I mean, I'm feeling pretty serious?" Kon says, shrugging again. He still doesn't get why she's being so sensitive about this. "It's not like this is the weirdest thing I've ever done in pursuit of a good time. Like, holy hell, lemme tell you about the Ravers sometime."

"You're going to have to look Robin in the eye after this!" Kara says. "And work with him! And be a normal person in his presence! Normally!"

"I'm aware?" Kon says, vaguely bemused by her concern. Like he's never been normal around somebody he's slept with before, geez. "Tell Kal I ran off with the pink K, if he wants to lock it up in the Fortress or wherever I can bring it back tomorrow."

"Maybe Monday," Bernard says.

"Or maybe Monday," Kon amends.

"It's Thursday!" Kara sputters.

"So it's a long weekend," Bernard says.

"I'm not explaining this to Kal," Kara says. "I'm not explaining this to Batman."

"I really don't see why you'd have to," Kon says. "Rob, you cool with the long weekend thing? Not too much of an imposition?"

". . . I got the check," Tim mutters in obvious and absolute mortification.

Kon's gonna take that as a "yes".

"Cool," he says, grinning broadly. "See you soon, Boy Wonder."

He ends the call. Kara drags her hands down her face and continues to stay very far away from him and the pink kryptonite in his pocket.

"When you go back to normal and freak out and make everything weird with Robin and your team and even Robin's literal boyfriend, I'm going to say so many 'I told you so's," she swears vehemently. "So don't say I didn't warn you."

"Your objection is on the record," Kon says, then tosses her a lazy salute with another grin and takes off, kryptonite and all.

Best to just scarper while Clark's distracted, yeah?

Definitely best.

#kon el #tim drake #bernard dowd #timberkon #timkon #timber #superboy #dc robin #rinfic #wip: think pink

[undreaming-fanfiction]

As a crazy cat lady, may I offfer...

Eddie who has always loved cats, how free and soft and elegant they are, how they purr and close their eyes in affection, how they make him forget all his worries and stress. He's loved them ever since a neighbor's cat found him crying behind the trailer after he got bullied for his new haircut, the last gift from his shitty dad before Eddie got whisked away by the social services. The cat ignored his sniffling and jumped in his lap, plopping herself over the bony knees and thin thighs, and when she started rubbing her face against his scraped palm, Eddie felt complete.

He can't adopt one yet because he lives with Wayne who is allergic. Wayne offers to take antihistamines but Eddie refuses, he doesn't want to inconvenience him in his own home. Still, he dreams of one day sometime in the future, a small apartment of his own and at least two cats who will greet him when he comes home.

Eddie finds himself volunteering in a shelter and when a new cat café opens, he jumps at the opportunity. He is hired and spends his days taking of their cat ensemble and preparing delicious coffees. Cats help him be less jittery and more grounded, so it's a win win. Eddie loves this job.

Enter Steve Harrington, an insanely handsome man who stops by to make a reservation. Eddie is his usual flirty self, although he expects Steve will bring a date and that's the end of that. But then Steve leans to Eddie and asks: "Listen, uh...I will need some help."

Suppressing an internal groan, Eddie asks: "what, do you need me to drop an engagement ring into the coffee or something? Because can do, but it needs to be sanitized first."

"Oh no. Not that, no..." Steve runs his fingers through his hair and even though it looks like a nervous gesture, Eddie is seconds away from a cuteness induced nosebleed. "Not at all. I just...I have a little sister, you know? I mean, my adoptive dad is fostering her and she's the kindest girl you've met, but she had it rough in her original family. Apparently there was something involving animals and...she loves cats so much, but is terrified of hurting them. She would never!" he clarifies when he sees a frown forming on Eddie's forehead. "It's just that whenever she showed affection to any animal, her biological father made sure it would get hurt or at least chased away. And that's gone, that man is in jail and I just...I want to show her that it's okay to love animals again. That she can pet a purring cat without worrying about its safety."

Eddie just stares at him with mouth open. "That's...wow," he says. "Sorry. Processing."

Steve does the hair thing again and laughs and Eddie thinks that this man deserves a brother of the year award, yep, he'll ask Gareth to 3D print one right fucking now. "Yeah, sorry. I didn't mean to dump all that on you, but I had to be honest because this is a big deal to her. To me as well. Just...listen, I like cats a lot, but I'm not the best at interpreting what they mean, their body language and all that. And I really need Jane to have someone here that can tell her what to do, when she's doing a good job...someone who will protect the kitties if she messes up. Her words. I know it's a lot to ask, but..."

But Eddie shushes him. "Say no more, big boy. I'll be here and I'll give the young lady the cat experience of a lifetime."

Eddie used to think he couldn't love his job any more. But with Jane's uncertain smile and big eyes, her incredulous squeal when a cat chose her for the first time, when she kept asking Eddie for specifics of each cat in his care - "which one is more shy, which one likes to be picked up, which one is a picky eater?" - he thinks he's finally found his calling. Steve beams at him and comes back the next day with a bag of approved cat treats for the cats and a box of chocolates for Eddie as a thank you, then asks him out for a dinner - "if that is even appropriate, shit, sorry, I don't want you to feel pressured or something, this is your job, I get it, but I just really admire you and you were amazing to Jane, uh, and the stuff you say about cats is so interesting I'd just love to hear more". Eddie's heart flutters like the traitor it is and he thinks - maybe this is someone I could adopt a cat with one day.

And unsurprisingly, he's right.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #eleven stranger things #jane hopper #steddie au #cat cafe au #steddie #steddie drabble #stranger things #THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ONE PARAGRAPH FFS

[dumplingsjinson]

List of random dialogue prompts (pt. 2)

“If you felt want and longing the way I did — the way I still do — I promise you’d be driven fucking mad.”

“I wanted the thrill of the chase more than I wanted you.” 

“You really couldn’t have been any more obvious.” “That’s because I didn’t have anything to hide. I was being obvious, because I needed you to know, without a doubt, that I love you.” 

“This is literally the worst moment for me to be saying this but considering how we could die at any second, I need to get this off my chest before I become buried six feet under, without a chance to say any of this to you: I love you. I’ve loved you since we were kids. I’ve loved you every second of my life; from the moment when I knew what loving someone really meant.” 

“I kinda knew I lost all feelings for you when I realised I didn’t want to communicate with you about the problems that were happening between us. I became complaisant.” 

“Loving you is as easy as overthinking everything.” 

“It’s… easy with you. Nice. I don’t have to be someone else to impress you, because I know you love me for me.”

“There are parts of me I’d never thought I’d show to anyone else, but then… You came along, and for some reason, you made me want to be honest with you; bare my soul to you.”

“So what in the hell are we? I’m not doing this unless we’re on the same page.” 

“Please don’t tell me we’re nothing to you… That I mean nothing after everything’s that happened.”

“You’re my emotional support human, and I love you so, so much.”

“If you ever need me, I’ll be right here. Just as I’ve always been.” 

“I’d let you break my heart, if it means I’d get to have you for even a day.” 

“You make me feel like dancing in the pouring rain wouldn’t be such a bad thing.” 

“You’re astoundingly unhealthy for me, but do I care? No, because I wouldn’t have fallen if I cared, especially when I’m someone who’s usually so careful with whom I give my heart to.”

“…I didn’t drunk call you. It wasn’t a drunk call. I called you, perfectly sober.” 

“You’re someone I want to tell things to.”

“What’s more important to me is that I’m your last love.” 

“This… This hurts me more than it hurts you.”

“Falling in love wasn’t on the agenda.” “Do you mean falling in love with me out of all people wasn’t on the agenda?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’m kind of in love?”

“…I want all of you. On top, under, whatever — I don’t care, I just want you.”

“Maybe I can help you forget about them.”

“It’s easier to pretend I’m still in love with them, than leave them in that state.” “You know you basically lying to them about your feelings is gonna hurt them more in the long run, right?” 

“Why does it have to be them? Why can’t it be me?”

“I’ll give you two seconds to take that back.” 

“You gotta work for it, love.” 

“We can pretend that didn’t happen.” “I’m sorry, but I’m not as good of an actor as you are.”

“I don’t know how to… I’ve never done this before.” “Then follow my lead, okay?”

“I’m someone who falls in love easily, but I’m also someone who can’t get over someone as easily.”

“I want to make this work, because I don’t— I don’t want to— I can’t lose you.” 

“You make me want to be a better version of myself.”

“I don’t wanna mess this up with you.” “You won’t. I promise, you won’t, so just… Do whatever. I trust you.”  

“Why are you smiling at your phone?” “…I was looking at the mail app, and uh… Received some good news?”

“Because love isn’t linear. You know that, right?”

“I’m not doing this for you — I’m doing this for myself.” 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be that person for you.”

“I’m here to stay. At least until you want me gone, which I hope is never.” 

“Chasing you is like chasing the rainbow… It’s impossible. You’re always slipping away no matter how fast I run after you.”

“Don’t give me that it’s not you, it’s me bullcrap. It’s us both. We’re both at fault for this relationship breakdown.” 

“God, I just like you so, so much.” 

“I think I need to get over you for me to feel better again.” 

“You and your stupid smile… Stop that.” 

“I just need you in me somehow, please—”

“I really hope you realised they were flirting with you.” “…They were?”

“I’ve caught feelings for you, and I know you don’t like me back that way so I just… Wanted to tell you, before I decide to let you go.”

“I’ll be here to pick up the broken pieces if that’s what you want me to do, but I’ll leave if you’re not ready for that… For something more with me.” 

“I love you, but I… I don’t think I see a future with you.” 

“Give me a week. A week, and I’ll be back to normal. A week, and I’ll… I’ll be over you. Just a week and you’ll have the old me back. It’s that easy, I promise.”

“I kinda wanna give myself a concussion so I can forget about you and not think about you twenty-four-seven.” 

(pt. 1) | (pt. 3)

#i wrote this in january lmfao #long post #dialogue prompts #otp prompts #fluff prompts #angst prompts #smut prompts #prompts #romantic prompts #romance prompts #suggestive prompts

[aluciahaz]

One bed trope with Adam except we wake up in the middle of night feeling him unconsciously grinding his hard-on against us and we take it into our hands (literally) to help him🫣

( he wakes up before we actually do anything so it’s all consensual ofc.. )

🦅🦅LETS FUCKIBG GOO🦅🦅 i love (babying) this dumb bitch!!! this is kinda more ooc adam but i hope you still like it !

truth prevails

—adam x gn!reader

—tags : handjob, bottom adam, dom!reader, absolute overuse of the nickname baby and baby boy 😭

what a fucking wake up call.

you really should’ve just made adam sleep on the couch.

honestly, you aren’t even that surprised that he was grinding against you while asleep, murmuring your name in a soft voice. it was quite nice actually, compared to his usually brash one.

especially his whimpers.

“lemme cum...please-fuck….” his head would nuzzle further into your neck, his breath hot against your skin as his hips kept bucking up. so he was in that type of mood, huh?

well… then maybe it wouldn’t hurt to indulge in his fantasies for a just little bit. after all, it was hard to get him to bottom without him throwing a tantrum. which, of course would just lead him to get wrecked, just the way he liked it.

“adam.”

“mm…mhm?” his eyes slowly open, his arms still around your waist as you turn around to look at him. his confused expression is almost cute in a way, although a bit disheveled with his hair falling in front of his face.

“what were you dreaming about, baby?” you ask, a smirk forming on your lips as you stroke his hair, running your fingers through his coarse strands. your other hand snakes around to his hip, teasing his waistband just slightly.

adam, now shocked, looks at you with an almost abashed expression before clearing his throat, going back to his egotistical persona.

“uh, psh, fucking you, duh,”

well, at least he was honest. somewhat.

“and begging for me to let you cum?” you ask bluntly, raising your eyebrow at him as you chuckle. his mien was what you could on describe as flabbergasted. it was clear he had no idea what he was doing to you just a few minutes ago.

clueless, cute, baby.

you coo at him, the hand on his hair moving down underneath his chin as you cup it gently. still sleepy, instead of pulling away with a scoff like usual, he leans into it, letting his instincts take over.

“how would you know?” he says with a grin, clearly doubtful, yet the anxious twitch of his smile shows that he was less relaxed than he portrayed himself to be.

“you talk in your sleep.”

“…” he stares at you for a few seconds before laughing nervously.

“nooooo…?”

the deadpan expression on your face says it all. so much so it makes him feel way too awkward, forcing him to retract his statement.

“…sorry.”

“i don’t know why you try even and lie when you’re so bad at it.”

he frowns at you, furrowing his eyebrows.

“whatever! are you gonna do something about my hard-on or keep making digs at me?”

“i could always do both.”

the smirk on your face widens as your hand slips past his waistband, your hands tracing his v-line ever so delicately, your touch light as an angel’s feather.

“you just have to say please.”

“fuck you.”

“not today, honey,”

adam just rolls his eyes, grumbling as he ponders on what to do. that’s not good, he isn’t made to think.

quickly, your hand under his chin places a finger on his bottom lip, just barely tipping over to make its way inside of his mouth to distract him.

“come on, baby. don’t you want to be a good boy for me?” you kiss his neck, gentle and sweet like a divine’s touch. “just think about how nice it would be to let everything go, let me take care of you. my perfect, little angel.”

he stifles a moan, but with how close the two of you were, you could hear it clear as day. usually, it would take way longer to get him in such a state, but apparently the tedious process was 2 times faster when he was sleepy.

clearly this means you should do this more often.

"...please-ah!"

he can't even finish his sentence before your hand wraps around his cock, stroking it in nice, slow movements as you whisper in his ear. "good boy!" you praise, your fingers leaving his lips and slipping underneath his light shirt. with the tips of your fingers, you pull and twist at his sensitive buds, reveling in his sweet whimpers and cries as his chest jerks up into your hand.

"tell me what you really dreamt of, baby. were you all pliant underneath my hand? maybe even getting fucked by me? tell me truth."

all he can do is whine as his legs quiver, digging his head further into the crook of your neck as he pants. his wings start to flap a little against the bed, and only from a few touches.

"okay okay! i—yeah," he tried gulped away his embarrassment, but the heat on his face was a clear indicator of his nervousness. "you—you fucked me and told me all these-these stupid little compliments-yes, oh—!"

you laugh as you he bucks his hips into your grip, trying to chase more pleasure before pulling away, deaf to the groan of annoyance coming from the man.

"don't get greedy, baby boy." you chide, shaking your head in disapproval. "take what you get, nothing more, and maybe you'll get a reward!" you say, kissing his cheek sweetly in contrast to your cruel command.

"oh—oh, okay! oka—ayy!" he mewls shakily, clawing at your waist as he tries to stop his hips from moving. surprisingly, he does quite well, letting you take control of the pace with only a few jerks up into your fist. but, you decide to let it go, after all, adam was being sweeter than usual.

"alright, alright, you can move now, baby. you did so good for me."

"yes! finally—ngh! fuck—thank you...!" he cries, moving his hips quickly into your grasp as he finds himself getting lost in his own pleasure.

you didn't even need to remind him to be grateful, how polite! he's learning!

he wails your name like a weeping sinner, hoping that you'd grace him with your love and mercy.

which, of course you would. for once, he's earned it without much push at all! perhaps this would set as an example on what he should do next time instead of being a brat all the time.

"cum for me, my love. you deserve it," you croon, moving your fist faster and faster with his pace. the hand on his chest presses harder onto his nipple, twisting the way you know he loves—as much as he denies he's a masochist, you know by the way he keens that he's just being proud—and let him keep babbling about anything that comes to his muddled little mind. yeah, you'll bless him just this once.

"i love you, love—love you, i love—ah—ah!"

adam sobs shamelessly as he reaches his climax, his hips stuttering as he slowly returns from his high. his whole body goes limp as he shuts his eyes, his hands falling from your waist as he steadies his breathing.

you wipe the tears away from his eyes, peppering his face with kisses.

“see? this is what you get for being good.”

“mm..mmmhm,” adam hums mindlessly before falling into silence. strange, he was usually big on pillow talk—

you hear a soft snore coming from beneath you, slow breaths loud amongst the quietude of your shared bedroom.

…seems like your baby boy fell asleep.

a/n - please someone request like a mommy/daddy kink for any of the goobers i write for i am INSPIRED rn im opening my reqs rn 😭

tags : @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx

#hazbin hotel #sub hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel dom reader #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel x reader #dom reader #sub adam #bottom adam #adam x reader

[netherfeildren]

How to Endure Ardor:

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel teaches you how to love him.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Post outbreak; QZ Joel Miller; I'm saying this, but the setting is sort of ambiguous anyways, Stream of consciousness, Character Study, Alternating POVs; PIV sex; The troubles and toils of breaking up and then making up with a fucked up old man; Uncaring Joel; Mentions of painful sex; Toxic relationships or situationships or whatever you want to call it; I think I'm addicted to the idea of a Joel who'll never love you and I should probably see a doctor about it

A/N: she remembers how to write, who'd of thought!

Word Count: 1.3K

Read on AO3

This is a lesson:

“Tell me again,” she says, and it’s a begging.

A begging like what? Something that carries shame and smallness in the shape of it. Stay a little longer. It humiliates him for the wretchedness it pulls from him. Joel, please. Seeping blood the color of her supplication. Please, she says, please. And who else says please to him anymore? Who asks him for anything anymore but her? The only ones who ever had are long past and gone, and he can’t even barely remember they were ever really there to ask anything of him to begin with—can’t remember what it feels like to owe someone something and want to give it to them in a way that will actually make him. 

Tell me what again? That I want you? That I’ll stay? That I love you? I’ll come back, he says instead, the only thing he can promise and keep. And he wonders if it humiliates her too, the way he lies, the way he runs, the way he swears, the way he always comes back and comes back but never returns with the things she needs. A humiliation just like it is a begging. 

The thing they have: it’s strange, fickle, honest in its lies, very, very ugly. An ugliness that is shocking in a world gone to rot already. The sky doesn’t shine anymore and they bask in it. 

But also, and, the thing they have: it’s physical, saving.

This is obvious too, even if only to them.

He slides inside and you’re what? Hot and wet and slick, and���yes, a thing like a dream, but still only a thing. Something to have, something close to desire, but not quite, more like biological want. Woman turned possession. In his mind this is an excuse, a reason, a begetting. Like, what—like what? Like when you want a thing very badly but it is very bad for you, and you need to make up any excuse to have it, lie and lie and lie—to your mother, your best friend, the mirror—a begetting like that. Easy to understand only if you’ve been there. 

It started simple, it started like nothing, it started like the first time you meet someone and you know they’ll matter, you know they’ll mean something. So it started like what? Like a lie. 

Shifts at the QZ, long and toiling and reminders of the sort of life that died in an outbreak of monsters, only if for how unlike that past it was. Humans or fungus or—

—men who hurt—you, men who refuse your love, Joel Miller.

The crutch of your age, of you being weaker or smaller or in need, him being easily felled, wooed, easily conquered by something young and given without a try because there was never the opportunity for trying before. 

Now, it is like this: you take my cock and you take my come and you take my nothing, and I give so little and yet you still find a way to take and take and take, leech of a girl, dream of a girl, hungry. And with the excuse that it’s only in a way you contrive for your own self. But in the end, what does that make you? What do I make you into? 

These are the things he asks himself. 

Perhaps she goes away for a time, tries the route of escape, of variety. But when she inevitably comes back because addiction is riddled always in the same sorts of ways: did you try different bodies? Did you try different flavors and sounds? Did you look for me in all of them? 

The answer is usually yes.

At reunion’s turn: he rolls her over to face her, Joel, damp and panting and trying to be something—perhaps better, more honest—after a season of variety and honest attempts and shut eyes. He’s so hard for her, always is. 

Again: he slides inside and you’re what? His, undeniably. Not yours. Something to want but not desire because it’s too romantic a notion, and yes, there’s a difference even if he can’t put into words what that difference specifically is. Body and heart, perhaps, definitions that differ between disparate anatomical parts or levels of deniability. 

Nothing either of you have ever been able to put into words when lust and love aren’t things you can even say out loud for the shame of them, even if they exist within said same anatomy. 

You come together, the season passed, the separation passed but still kept at hand for the next time the closeness becomes too much. 

“Tell me again,” she says, and this time he remembers what she’s asking for.

“I fucking missed you, baby. Missed this pussy.” Because he can’t say it’s her heart he missed. Because Joel Miller does not have honesty in his arsenal. 

He spreads you wide, knee to shoulder so it hurts and pulls, so it’ll be sore and reminding tomorrow. The slap of his pelvis against the back of your thighs is obscene, wet and lewd, a string of girl cum keeping you connected, such togetherness, curve of your ass to the root of his cock—the two of you are together again. 

You know what I thought, when I tried to go away, you say. He doesn’t want to know, but he doesn't tell you so either, only slides in again, the mouth of your womb right there, threatening. I’m never going to feel like this again, and I hate how certainly I know that. He wonders if the unsaid part is that he’s the recipient of that feeling, the hate. 

He wonders if the pinch inside him is hurt. He wonders if the throb is love. 

All he says because he can’t say the rest is, I missed you, I missed you, and if he could look himself in the mirror—something that’s twenty years past lost—he’d ask: are you alright? Just tell me you’re okay. And it sounds in your own voice and with your own care and the feel of your own warmth. Is there anything I can do?

Other times, he sees himself through your own eyes, and then he knows for certain that the throb is love 

So he makes up for lost time, hard—and if it was a thing he knew how to be— loving. Mouth to cunt first, primed and soft and begging, making you come again and then another once more, then inside of you. Slow, splitting you open, red cunt like a wound, balls slapping wet, pulling out to watch the gape of the space he’s carved for himself. His cock is so hard and missing you something desperate. And he’s reminded of what it is to really miss something in a way he hadn’t been in twenty years of apocalypse, he’s forced to realized that it’s been so long since he’d had something to love that he’d not realized the feeling of missing that long past someone had gone away, only faint memory remained. 

Violent, is what this makes him after that realization—thrusts turning hard and punishing. How dare you give yourself to me? How dare you then take yourself away? You come around him again, the gift of your orgasm. How dare you not be able to accept the little I’m able to give when I’m trying so desperately fucking hard to give you even just this? 

He fucks you mean, he fucks you in the way of a man who doesnt know how to say the things he needs to say, in a way that’s confusing, that could make a less discerning woman feel only the hurt. 

But then again, you know him.

Fucks you in a way that is a little bit like love.

And so, amidst all of it, there is an honesty amongst the lies. A truth unspoken that they both know—I’ll come back because I need you, because you’re the only one who can give me the things I'm not strong enough to ask for out loud. 

You’re not sure which of the two of you is the one saying it.

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog

#vic fic #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader

[buckttommy]

I need buck to be in danger and tommy running into the danger to get buck out safely. I need tommy to hold bucks face in his hands and tell him that he needs to look at him and tell him what hurts. I need tommy to be a worried boyfriend

whoops

"I'm okay."

Evan doesn't actually know if he's okay. His head throbs, for one, his vision blurring around the edges. He's not entirely convinced he doesn't have a concussion, and his ribs spit fire whenever he so much as tries to inhale. His arm—the one that's not currently attached to the hand that's gripping Tommy's wrist like he's scared he'll float away—is broken, or at least he thinks it is, and he's got a bunch of other scrapes and bruises that'll give him hell in the morning.

So maybe he's not okay (and judging by the way that Hen glares at him in his peripheral vision, maybe is starting to look like definitely), but he's not dying.

That's all that matters.

Tommy swallows tightly. His right hand clenches and unclenches at his side like he's trying to keep himself from reaching out to touch, and it seems like he's losing the battle. Evan appreciates the respect, appreciates the acknowledgement that he's not out even in a situation as dire and terrifying as this one, but it's a particular sort of agony to watch Tommy fight his instinct. Evan just doesn't know which one of them it's hurting more.

Tommy clears his throat. "When Chimney called and said that—that you were hurt..."

"I know." Evan has been on the receiving end of a call like that more than once. The corner of his mouth lifts into a small, fragile smile that sends more blood spilling down his face. "I'm sorry I freaked you out. I didn't mean to do that to you."

He doesn't mention that he, too, was also freaked out. Not because he thinks Tommy can't take it or doesn't want to hear it, but because he doesn't know how to say it without having the whole situation feel abruptly, horrifyingly real.

When the building came down, all he saw was rebar and ash and cement, and if he's honest, he's still not sure how he made it out of there. Still not sure whether it was pure survival instinct that had him clawing out of that air pocket or whether some benevolent god reached down and gave him a helping hand. Either way, he's not complaining. He knows what it's like to be the one waiting for information, to think you're about to live the worst day of your life.

He's glad he didn't do that to Tommy.

This time.

Tommy's eyes rove over his face, his body, like he's trying to catalogue for himself all the places in which Evan is broken. He loses the fight against his hand and gently grabs Evan's jaw, tilting his face toward the flashing lights of the ambulance. He clucks his tongue and drags his thumb along the edge of a gash scored across his cheekbone.

"You're going to need stitches on that."

"I know, I know. Just—" Evan sways on his feet. He's tired, suddenly, the adrenaline passing and fear taking roots in it's place. "I thought I was going to die today."

Tommy makes a wounded noise in the back of his throat. "Evan."

"No. I know. It's just that—if I hadn't somehow ended up in that little pocket of space, I-I would have been dead. And I know that's the job. You know? It's—it's what we both signed up for." He rocks forward on his feet, partially fueled by fatigue, partially fueled by this desperate fucking need to be back in the comfort of his boyfriend's orbit. "But I'm just really—I'm really glad I get to come home to you again."

Tommy's face softens. "Oh, sweetheart."

Evan's boyfriend is massive. It's one of the things he loves most about him. Tommy can (and has) manhandled him with ease countless times before. But the way he touches him now, careful of all his broken parts, is so gentle that Evan almost feels like crying. He melts into the warmth of his embrace as he feels Tommy's nose press into the soft hairs at his temple, followed by a quick brush of his lips.

"I'm glad you get to come home at all. I—god. You have no idea, Evan. You just don't know." He huffs a laugh that's not really a laugh at all and holds him slightly tighter. "I know it's the job, like you said, and I never really minded when it was me running into burning buildings. But now it's you, and—" he pauses. Swallows. "Well. It's not really as fun from this side of things."

"Says the guy who flies helicopters into hurricanes for a living."

Tommy's laugh is actually more of a laugh that time. Something eases in Evan's chest. He tips his chin to look at him.

They're standing far too closely, far too intimately to be considered casual. He's not out to anyone at the station except his family, and he can feel curious eyes roving over them every now and again.

But Tommy is shaking.

It's a small tremble wracking his body, clearly suppressed (or at least trying to be), but it's there and it's breaking Evan's heart to pieces.

Maybe it's that that gives him the courage. Or maybe it's the fact that he almost died. Or maybe it's the fact that Tommy smells like his laundry detergent and, this close Evan can see the edge of the hickey he left beneath his collarbone, or maybe (most likely) it's all of those things. But before he can think about it, before he can stop himself, Evan is murmuring,

"Can I kiss you?"

Tommy's eyebrows raise to his hairline. His gaze darts around, but they're tucked away from the largest portion of the crowd of first responders that arrived at the structure fire. The only person that's even sort of nearby is Hen, and she's so obviously giving them privacy that Evan wants to hug her a little bit.

Later.

Right now, he just wants to kiss.

Tommy frowns. "Are you sure? I mean. Yes. You can. I always want to kiss you but you're not out."

This is true. Evan considers this for a moment and decides that, right now, he doesn't care. Everyone he cares about already knows he's bisexual and they love him regardless, have loved him all this time.

He doesn't give a shit about anyone else.

"We don't have to," he says after a moment. "But I'm tired. And everything hurts. And when I was under there, all I could think about was—was you and getting back to you and kissing you, and so I—"

He's cut off by the feel of Tommy's mouth on his, tension gliding from his shoulders as their lips slot together.

Finally.

This is what he's been needing ever since he emerged from the rubble. Ever since Hen dragged him to the ambulance and sat him down to tend to his wounds. Ever since Chimney told him he called Tommy to let him know what happened.

This is what he's been missing.

Tommy's heartbeat jackrabbits against his chest.

It's an odd thing to be able to feel someone's heartbeat, to be pressed so close together that you can literally feel the thing that's keeping them alive. Evan has never felt anything more sacred, he thinks, and the fact that this heart—this beautiful fucking heart—beats a litany of fear for him through Tommy's veins is overwhelming.

Humbling.

He adores this man.

He lets go of Tommy's wrist and slides his hand up until it rests over Tommy's heart, and then he waits and waits and waits until the beat starts to slow down. Until Tommy exhales a sigh against the side of his face.

There it is, that's what he was waiting for.

Tommy pulls back first, far enough to press their foreheads together.

"You need to go to a hospital," he murmurs.

"Later."

"No, now." His laughter is soft. "Hen is glaring daggers at me. I can't be sure, but I'm fairly certain she's about to pry you out of my arms and strap you to the gurney herself."

Evan snorts. Yeah, that sounds like Hen.

He takes a step back out of the warm circle of Tommy's arms. A bout of vertigo nearly knocks him off his feet, but then Tommy is there once again, holding him up.

Evan's own heart beats just a little bit faster.

Together, they walk over to the back of the ambulance, Tommy helping him get settled on the gurney once they get there.

Evan meets his eyes. "Come visit me in the hospital?"

"Visit you? I'll be right behind."

Tommy presses a kiss to the back of his hand, and this time when the vertigo hits again, he's not entirely sure it's just because of his injuries.

He's never felt so adored, so treasured before. It's intoxicating.

Tommy looks over his shoulder, his face earnest. "I know I don't have to ask, but please take care of him."

Hen's voice is immensely fond. "Relax, Kinard. He's in good hands."

Tommy nods. He meets his gaze again and then holds it until the ambulance doors close. It's only when Evan leans back that he remembers, oh, right. Everything does kind of hurt after all.

Definitely not okay, then.

"Ow."

"Yeah, I know." Hen's voice is still soft. She fusses about the back of the ambulance, plying him with bandages and medicine and whatever the hell else she's doing. He's not entirely sure. Reality is starting to slip away. Her face appears in his field of vision. "We'll be at the hospital soon. Close your eyes."

"Tommy?"

"Buck, I'm pretty sure not even a natural disaster could keep that man from being at your side." Her tone is teasing, but she's sincere. Something warm settles in his chest even as his eyelids drift closed. "Rest. The sooner you go to sleep, the sooner you can see him."

Evan's not sure about that logic but he's too weary to question it. He closes his eyes anyway, lets the rock of the ambulance lull him into a relative sense of peace, and he falls asleep imagining the warmth of Tommy's body beside him.

#ngl I giggled to myself SO MANY TIMES WHILE WRITING THIS OH MY GOD #*screams and kicks my feet* #anyways #bucktommy #jack answers mail #tv: 911

[valeskafics]

"(S)He's Not You" - Conrad Fisher x Reader

a/n: from an anon request 🩷

Summary: You help your best friend put the broken pieces of his heart back together.

Word Count: 4,000

Rating: 18+, MDNI

TW: afab reader, she/her pronouns, profanity, innuendo, infidelity (not by reader or conrad), hair pulling, pining, fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex

Disclaimer: I do not own any of The Summer I Turned Pretty characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

You don’t know what you were expecting to see when you made it back to Cousins after your last final exam. The beach house was saved and everyone was getting along right before you left. So why is Connor crying? You approach your best friend with trepidation, knowing he’d never want you to see him like this. You rest a gentle hand on his shoulder and he jerks his head up, eyes going wide as he quickly tries to dry his tears, to calm the way his body seizes with every sob. But you just sit down beside him and pull his head into your lap. And he cries. God, how he cries. It physically pains you to see him like this, like something is squeezing your heart in two as you run your hands through his hair.

You know who did this. Belly. She fucking broke his heart. You swear, if your mom wasn’t so close with hers and Steven wasn’t one of your best friends, you’d kill her with your bare hands. The pain she’s caused… You shake your head, listening to Conrad’s sniffles as they slowly begin to calm.

“You’re too good for her,” you say softly, “You always were.”

He lets out a hoarse laugh, sitting up and meeting your gaze with bloodshot eyes, “Then why did she pick him over me?”

Jeremiah. He must mean Jeremiah. God, you think you really might drive all the way to her fucking volleyball camp and kill her. You shake your head.

“Cuz she’s an asshole.” You see the hint of a smile curling at the corners of your best friend’s lips and you poke his cheek, “Is that a smile I see, Fisher? Don’t you hide that from me. Come on.”

He shakes his head and finally smiles, and it’s like the sunshine has broken through the clouds as he embraces you tightly, “Thanks.”

“Anytime, bub,” you rub his back.

“Can I be completely honest?” When you nod, he heaves a sigh and continues, “I… I never stopped loving her. No matter what she did or said. I never stopped. Do you think that’s stupid?”

“Love is stupid. It doesn’t make sense. That doesn’t make you stupid.”

Conrad gives a sad smile at your reassurance before continuing, “I think you’re the only person I have ever been completely honest with. And you’ve always been honest with me. So do you really think I’m too good for Belly?”

His eyes are full of self-doubt, self-pity, grief. You hate what she’s done to him. You take Conrad’s hands in your own and squeeze gently.

“Of course I do. I always have. Stringing you and Jere along like that? Playing you against each other? That was bullshit. Belly isn’t all that, Connie. You’re gonna find someone so much better.”

“I thought Belly was my soulmate,” he mumbles, “Why didn’t she pick me?”

“Because she’s not your soulmate,” you reply firmly, “All she’s done is hurt you, bub. Love isn’t supposed to hurt. It’s supposed to be intense, yeah, but it’s supposed to make you feel glad that you’re alive.”

You can see that even if your words aren’t immediately affecting Conrad, he’s listening. You’ve always had a way of getting through to him, even when Belly couldn’t. Even when Susannah or Laurel couldn’t. Everyone would look to you to talk some sense into your best friend. His brow furrows as he turns to face you.

“So you think I’m better off without her? It’s just… The way I saw it was that Jere must be better than me cuz-”

“Absolutely the fuck not,” you cut him off sharply, resting your hands on his cheeks, wiping away the last of his tears, “Jere is great, okay? Jere is sweet and awesome and a great guy. But you know what he’s not? He’s not you.”

Conrad lets out a breath, a long one, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder, his voice muffled, “How do you always know how to make me feel better? And how are you always right? Love isn’t supposed to hurt.” He pauses, giving you a cheeky smile, “Maybe I need someone more like you.”

You elbow him, shoving him away when he chuckles, “Ha ha, very funny, you jerk. Besides, I don’t think it would go down very well with Paul if I dated you.”

He rolls his eyes at the mention of your boyfriend, “Paul’s a tool. You know you can do better, right? I mean, you got into Stanford. He has the IQ of a potato.”

“Don’t be mean, Connie,” you chide before giggling, “He’s at least a yam.”

Conrad throws his head back, bursting into full-bodied laughter, covering his mouth, “I bet you a hundred bucks he doesn’t even know what a yam is.”

Intrigued, you pull out your phone, giving Conrad a sidelong glance as you text Paul. Conrad tries to lean over your shoulder to read what you’re typing, only to be batted away. He pouts, resting his chin on your shoulder, startling slightly when your phone goes off and you gasp at the reply.

“He doesn’t know what a yam is!”

Conrad shakes his head incredulously, “I won… Okay, pay up.”

“I can’t, I’m poor.”

He scoffs, tossing his arm around you, squeezing your side, “Fine. I’ll let you off easy since I like your face.”

“You like my face?” You tease, batting your lashes at him, “God, when are we getting married? That was so romantic!”

“Shut up.”

“That’s gonna be in our vows,” you declare as you stand up, taking Conrad by the hand as the two of you grab your bags and walk toward his car, “That you like my face.”

He shoves you away from him, trying his best not to laugh but failing miserably, “I hate you.”

“You can’t shove your future wife like that! That’s spousal abuse!”

“Who’s gonna stop me, you little nag?”

You burst into giggles, the sound of which seems to lift his spirits as you meet his gaze, “I hate you so much.”

“I hate you too, wifey.”

You bump your hip against his, then you turn to face him, “But look, I’m serious. One day? You’re gonna find some girl who makes you forget Belly ever existed. And you’re gonna be so happy.”

“Promise?” He asks softly, extending his pinky toward yours.

You nod, wrapping your pinky around his, “Promise.”

As you begin the drive to California, Conrad can’t help but look over at you every so often, smiling to himself as you sing along to some Fleetwood Mac song, waving at every passing car like the weirdo you are. He shakes his head, wondering why his stomach flutters when you look over at him, the sun shining down on your face.

Sure, before you got with Paul and he got with Belly, he’d always sort of, kind of had a thing for you. But he got over that when he fell for Belly.

Right?

Stanford is everything Conrad hoped it would be. And best of all? He’s there with you. His favorite person in the world. He knows that your boyfriend hates it. After all, he didn’t have to deal with Conrad’s presence freshman year. And now? Things are different. Paul is cold and distant, while Conrad remains the same. Always sweet and loving. Tonight, for example. You burst into Conrad’s dorm, declaring that the two of you are going to hang out. 

“Alright, just don’t be annoying.”

You grab his pillow and begin whacking him with it, making your best friend burst into laughter, trying to cover his face as you do your best Kim Kardashian impression, “Don’t be fucking rude!”

“Alright, alright! Come on, let’s go. What do you want to do?”

“Pizza?” You offer, “I’m hungry as fuck and Paul always wants to eat at these fancy healthy places. Sometimes all I want is a slice of that cheesy, greasy goodness.”

Conrad scoffs as the two of you begin to walk, “Buzz kill.”

“There’s nothing wrong with eating healthy,” you protest.

“It’s California. Put an avocado on the pizza and say it’s healthy.”

You roll your eyes, elbowing him playfully, “Your Bostonian is showing, babe.”

Babe. His heart races slightly as the two of you begin to walk out of the building and toward the pizza parlor near campus. However, you don’t seem to be walking fast enough for Conrad’s liking as he pulls you by the hand, trying to get you to pick up the pace. You whine playfully, making him snicker.

“I’m tired of your whining.”

“I’m training you for your next relationship!”

“Keep talking like that and you might just be my next relationship.”

“Yeah, cuz that’ll go over real well with Paul.”

“He can fight me. Besides, you’re a big girl. He doesn’t control you.”

His voice is teasing, but there’s an undertone of seriousness to his voice, to his expression that is hinted at but you don’t quite catch. A lingering desire for something more, something that’s remained unacted upon for years. You respond to his teasing in kind, pretending to swoon in his arms, your voice reeking of melodrama.

“Why, Mr. Fisher, I do declare! Are you going to fight for my hand?”

He shakes his head at your antics, and though he’s joking when he replies, a part of him truly means it, “It would be an honor, my lady.”

You two finally reach the pizza parlor, moving toward what has quickly become your usual booth, taking a seat and waiting for your waitress to pass by. When she shows up, Conrad takes the lead and begins placing the order.

“And pineapple and anchovies on her side-”

“Don’t you dare!” You gasp, clutching your chest, “You’re killing me, Fisher!”

The waitress laughs at the two of you, remarking what a cute couple you make. And neither of you moves to correct her. As she walks away, Conrad turns to face you with a grin.

“I’ve never met anyone as dramatic as you.”

“Oh, yeah? Well-” 

When your face freezes, eyes going wide, Conrad turns around to follow your line of sight. And there, he sees what has you so shocked. It’s Paul. With a girl. A girl who he has his arm around. A girl who he’s kissing. Conrad turns back to you, watching as you blink owlishly, trying to absorb the sight in front of you.

“Am… Are you seeing this or am I delusional?”

“You’re not delusional,” Conrad mumbles, taking your hand.  The devastated expression on your face tugs at his heartstrings, rage building inside of him at the thought of anyone wanting to hurt you, of anyone thinking they’re better off with someone other than you. “Let’s get out of here.”

“I thought he… Loved me,” you mumble, your voice cracking as your lower lip wobbles slightly. You stand up and race out of the restaurant, “I’m going back to my dorm.”

Conrad is stunned for a moment but rushes after you. You were there for him and now he’s going to be there for you. He catches up to you just outside, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you into his arms, letting your head rest against his chest. He runs a hand through your hair, speaking softly.

“I’m sticking with you.”

The levee breaks and your tears begin to flow, a heart wrenching sob torn from your throat as you cry against Conrad’s chest. This isn’t how tonight was meant to go. You weren’t supposed to be crying like this.

“I know how you’re feeling right now,” he whispers, “And I’m so sorry.”

“I tried,” you cry, clinging to him, “I tried so hard!”

“I know you did,” he soothes, squeezing you gently, rubbing your back, “And you should never have had to.”

Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months and soon? It’s nearing winter break. And Belly and Paul are nothing but distant, unpleasant memories. Conrad has been biding his time, working up the courage to ask you out, and decided today is the day. And as the two of you talk, moving your head to rest in his lap as you chatter away mindlessly, it confirms what he’s known deep down ever since he built sandcastles with you on the beach back when you were kids.

He’s madly in love with you.

“Okay, um, fuck, marry, kill.” He watches you with amusement as you think, “Wonder Woman, Catwoman, Harley Quinn.”

He runs his fingers through your hair affectionately, “Marry Wonder Woman because she’s gorgeous and cool as hell, fuck Catwoman, and kill Harley Quinn because she’s insane.”

You sit up, staring at him in horror, “You killed Harley?!”

“What? Did you really want me to marry her?” He questions incredulously.

“Yes! She’s the baddest bitch in the DC Universe. How DARE you!”

“Wha- Okay, DC Queen, would you marry her?”

“Yes!” You say without hesitation, making Conrad arch a brow, “She’s smart, she’s gorgeous, we’d be the cutest cottagecore lesbians in Gotham City.”

“I?” His jaw drops, “Harley would be the worst wife in history! And what the hell is cottagecore?”

You flop back so that your head is once again in his lap with a dramatic sigh, “You don’t understand aesthetics, Connie!”

“Oh, please, I’m from Boston. I don’t have to know this crap.”

“So am I and yet I know it,” you stick your tongue out at him, making him roll his eyes, “What do you think cottagecore even is?”

“That thing where girls just wanna make everything all pastel and wear oversized sweaters, right?”

“...That’s the worst description I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“It’s the truth though!” Conrad insists, “That’s all I’ve ever seen! A bunch of girls who wear oversized sweaters, drink pumpkin spice lattes, and hang out in cottages-”

“Who the fuck hangs out in cottages?” You question, bursting into laughter, “Bub, that’s not it at all.”

“It is! All the pictures I’ve seen are girls sitting in cottages or standing in fields with oversized sweaters drinking out of tiny cups! And if you’re the expert, you explain it and I’ll admit I was wrong!”

“...I actually don’t know what it is.”

Conrad stares at you for a long moment, stunned, “You’ve been defending cottagecore this whole time and you don’t even know what it is?”

“I just like fighting with you,” you snicker.

“Yeah? And I love arguing back. But you know what I like more?” He smirks, leaning in close, his voice low as he murmurs, “This!”

You let out an inhuman shriek as he shoves you off his lap, “You dick!”

“I guess you’re falling for me already!” Conrad grabs your hand when you move to leave, “No way, I’m not done messing with you yet.”

“This is physical abuse!”

“How is pulling you back onto my lap ‘physical abuse’?”

“You haven’t pulled me- HEY!” You land on his lap, smacking his chest with annoyance, “You’re so annoying Conrad, I swear!” Your phone goes off and you gasp, checking the time, “Oh, shit. I’ve gotta go.”

“Why? You gotta hot date?” Conrad taunts, pinching your side before letting you up.

“Ha! Yes, actually. Sam from lab asked me out! You know, the cute guy who sits up front?”

Conrad does his best to mask his disappointment, feeling his heart crack in two all over again. He knows he should be happy for you. He knows it. But it fucking hurts. He fakes a smile, his words of excitement coming out forced.

“That’s cool. Where are you guys going?”

“The movie theater downtown,” you beam, “And for dinner.”

“Oh. Cool. Yeah. That’s cool,” he forces another smile, his stomach in knots. You’re going on a date. With someone who isn’t him. “Have a great time.”

You frown slightly, knitting your brows together, “You okay?”

“I’m cool,” Conrad says, barely masking the crack in his voice, “Everything’s cool. You should get ready.” You part your lips as if about to say something, but he gives you a gentle shove, “Go. I’m serious. Tell me how it goes.”

He walks back to his dorm, alone and dejected, hands in his pockets. Conrad tries to distract himself all day and all evening from the fact that some asshole is probably holding your hand right now, kissing you, making you laugh. Telling you how beautiful you look when you smile, brushing your hair behind your ear-

He doesn’t know how long he sits at his laptop, just staring at the study guide in front of him but not really seeing anything. 

That is until he hears a knock on the door. Conrad frowns, standing up and wondering who it is that’s bothering him right now.

And there you are. In a pretty blue sundress, looking absolutely gorgeous.

“Hey. You busy?”

Conrad blinks a few times, trying to make sure his eyes aren’t deceiving him, before stepping aside, “Yeah, no. Uh, come in.”

You walk past him, the scent of your vanilla body spray lingering in the air as you pace the length of his dorm. Conrad watches you, wondering just what happened. You come to a stop in front of him, hands on your hips.

“Okay, here’s the deal. I went on a date with a really nice guy, right? He picks me up, brings me flowers. A real gentleman. Opens the door and even pays for our movie tickets.” Conrad’s heart sinks as he hears you talk about your date, “He buys us popcorn. He gets us a soda with two straws. It’s a romcom and he holds my hand when I tear up. It was perfect. The date any girl dreams of.”

“I’m sure it was,” Conrad mumbles, a lump in his throat. He can’t pretend to be happy for you. It hurts too damn much. “It sounds like a great date.”

“It was,” you pause, “But there was one huge problem.”

“Yeah? What was the problem?”

“You.”

Your response is so blunt. So simple. With one word, you’ve raised a million questions in his mind as he looks at you.

“Me? What do you mean me?”

“I mean I was with the perfect guy,” you say, gazing up at him with a soft, gentle expression on your face that makes his heart pound, “And all I could think about was how much I wished it was you.”

His pulse spikes at your words, his heart filled with equal parts hope and disbelief, “Really? You… You thought about me that whole time?”

“I couldn’t even kiss him goodnight. Because all I could think was…” You trail off before whispering, “He’s not you.”

He’s not you.

“You wanted it to be me?” Conrad whispers, smiling at you almost bashfully, running a hand through his hair.

You nod, “I guess I was just scared of us being each other’s rebounds-”

“You’d never be a rebound to me,” Conrad quickly assures you, cupping your face in his hands. You rest your hands over his, eyes locking as he speaks, “You’ve been the most important person in my life for as long as I can remember. And I was an idiot for trying to move on from my feelings for you with Belly because…” He laughs, “She’s not you.”

Your eyes start to blur, and you’re pretty sure you see Conrad spill a tear too as you mumble, “You’re my best friend. And I’m in love with you, Conrad Fisher.”

He lets out a breathless laugh, resting his head against yours, “Shit. I love you. I love you so much.”

“You’re so cute,” you grin up at him, you know that?”

“Shut up,” Conrad protests, rolling his eyes and feigning annoyance, “I’m not cute.”

“Okay, fine, you’re ugly- OW!”

He snickers after pinching your side, “That’s better…” The expression on Conrad’s face is so tender when he moves to take your hand in his, comparing how small and soft your palm is against his own, “I never wanna let go of your hand.”

“I don’t think you really ever did. Not since you took me to make that first sandcastle,” you whisper, using your other hand to caress his cheek, smiling as he leans into your touch, “Even though you were a little menace and tugged on my braids, I only wanted to be around you.”

“Hey, I did it gently.”

“Yeah, maybe that’s the reason I’m into that now- Oh.” You freeze, realizing what you’ve just said. Aloud. To your best friend. Who now knows you’re in love with him. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud. Me and my big mouth…”

When you meet Conrad’s gaze again, you see the smirk playing on his lips as he moves a hand to thread in your hair. You gasp as he tugs gently, shivering at the feeling. You let out a soft moan of his name, moving your hands to rest against his chest as you feel his nails gently moving against your scalp before tugging again.

“Not fair…”

He grins at you, pulling you in close and pressing his lips to your own.

And it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. There are fireworks behind your eyes as your mouth moves against his, your arms wrapping around his neck as the two of you slowly move toward his bed. You feel his mattress against the back of your thigh and let him push you down gently, never once breaking the kiss. You tug at Conrad’s shirt, helping him pull it up over his head before reaching for his jeans. He laughs against your lips at how eager you are, the sound turning into a moan as you palm at his cock over the fabric of his boxers. He moves his hand from your hair to move along your thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake, higher and higher until he pushes the hem of your dress up. Conrad tugs at your panties, pulling them down your legs and tossing them to join his shirt and jeans.

Within a few more seconds, the two of you lay there, completely bare before each other. Conrad’s hand moves to cup your mound, his fingers tracing you gently, making sure you’re wet enough to take him, teasing you, preparing for what’s to come. And you just stare up at him, lips parted with those sweet eyes that he can’t get enough of. He grasps at the base of his cock, lining himself up with you, when you suddenly grab his hand.

“I’m a little nervous,” you admit softly, “I… It’s you. And I want this to be perfect.”

“Me too,” Conrad admits, “And it will be.”

“Will you hold my hand? I just…” He can’t help but smile at the way you gaze up at him, interlacing your fingers with his, “I like how big your hands are. How safe I feel when you hold mine.”

“Yeah, baby,” he whispers gently, “I’ll hold your hand.”

And when you come together, it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. He fills you so perfectly. Like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Like he was made for you. His lips are soft and slow against yours, both hands holding your own as he rolls his hips against you, setting a rhythmic pace as he ruts against you. Your legs wrap around his waist, your moans and his filling the room as he lets go of one of your hands to tug on your hair with a playful grin. Before you can say anything, he’s kissing you again, his lips moving against yours.

His phone goes off and you glance at it, scoffing when you see that it’s Belly. No doubt she’s gotten bored with Jere and wants Conrad back. Conrad gives you a soft grin, whispering in your ear.

“She’s not you. She’s not the one I love. The one I’ve always loved.”

With that, any insecurities die on your tongue as he kisses you again.

#conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher #the summer i turned pretty #the summer i turned pretty x reader #my writing #conrad oneshot #conrad fisher one shot #conrad fisher fanfic #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher smut

[welcometowhore-rrorville]

𝒦𝒾𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓇 𝐼𝓃 𝐵𝑒𝒹

Featuring: Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair 

Word Count: 1.5k 

Warnings: nsfw, mdni, smutty headcanons, virginity mention, dirty talk, rough sex, just general nasty things

Michael Myers

Let’s be honest—this man was a virgin before you showed up

He was in a mental institution from a young age—not exactly the best place to fuck

Still, that certainly didn’t stop him

He picked up on what to do fast—it’s not all that difficult

Still, he definitely focused on himself

Whether or not you came was not his problem

You have to take matters into your own hands when it comes to that, using your fingers to work at your clit

Most of the time your body is jostled around to much to do so

He’s not gentle

Whatsoever

Things will be broken

The bed?

A bone?

Who knows

You have so so many marks

Bruises

Cuts

You always look like you fell through a wood chipper 

It’s not like you could reason with him, though

“Hey, can you, I don’t know, be gentle for once and not fuck me against a countertop?”

Yea, that would go over well

He gets. . . better. . . eventually

Still mostly selfish

But may rub against your clit as he’s pounding into you

By accident?

Unclear

Expect to walk with a permanent limp

RIP

Definitely into knife-play

So many shredded clothes

C’mon, what’d you expect?

The mask stays on during sex

Obviously

If he’s super comfortable he might pull it up enough to bite you

But don’t expect to catch a glimpse of his face

After-care? What’s that?

You clean yourself up 99% of the time

The only time he’s ever done anything was when you passed out during sex and woke up in your bed

Other than that, you don’t expect him to provide any cuddles 

He doesn’t even sleep in the same bed at night

Jason Voorhees

Tries his best to be so so so gentle with you

Also a virgin before you showed up

Not many people were lining up to fuck an undead monster haunting a summer camp

He’s. . . big. . . everywhere

It takes a while before you’re even able to take him properly

It’s not that you were unprepared, but at the slightest flinch of your face Jason would pause and refuse to touch you again for hours

You made sure to explain that you were fine and that you weren’t made of glass

But he was still petrified of hurting you

Still, when he finally calms enough to fully fuck you one night, you’re seeing stars

He’s slow and cautious, but eventually something lights a fire within him

Rubs his masked face into your neck apologetically as he rams into you

When you’re walking funny the next day he carries you everywhere

You don’t blame him for getting carried away sometimes, and even enjoy a little roughness more-often-than-not

He tries his best with after-care but is pretty clueless as what to do with you

When you’re exhausted and curled in on yourself he thinks he’s permanently hurt you

You tell him gently to run you a bath

Will attach himself to your hip and snuggle you until one of you is forced to get up

Nestles his masked nose against any marks he may have caused, letting out a low whimper

You run your hand down his back

“I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me. I’m okay.”

Tries to make your pleasure his number one priority

Will listen intently as you bashfully explain what you want and like

Does as told

He’s a little rough, massive fingers toying with your clit hard enough to have you wincing

But eventually he gets the hang of it

Refuses to cum until you have

Even when you’re giving him head, he always has to be touching you in some way, getting you off just as much as your getting him off

Sometimes he can’t help himself and cums before you, only to let out a low whine of disappointment, like he was ashamed of himself

You’re never far behind, anyways

One of the most selfless lovers you’ve ever had

The fact he doesn't speak doesn't even cross your mind

He gets his points across fine with his actions and occasional low rumbles 

And you were never much for dirty talk, anyway 

Bo Sinclair

He’s a wild-card 

Some days he’s feeling generous enough to nestle his head between your legs, other days he’s got you gagging on his dick until can’t breathe

You’re unsure of what impacts his attitude, every night getting ready to expect something different

You supposed he had a lot of things happen in life, you couldn’t blame him for being a little hot-and-cold about things

Regardless of what’s happening, he’s got a lot to say about it

If he’s not growling in your ear, teasing you with dirty words as he rams into you, then he’s moaning loudly against your lips or neck

You don’t think he’s ever quiet for more than a few seconds

What he says varies, too

Some days it’s nothing but praise

“Whatta good girl you are. C’mon, sweetheart. You can do it. Almost there—there it is, darlin’. Don’t you look like a beauty chokin’ on my cock?” 

“That’s it, beautiful. Keep sayin’ my name. Feel good, huh? Don’t close those pretty lips of yours. I wanna hear ya when I fuck ya.” 

Other days he’s grabbing your ass harshly, scolding you for muffling your moans against his neck

“The fuck you think you’re doin’? You’re nothin’ but a whore, don’t try ‘nd be bashful now.”

“What a slut. Look how wet you are for me. Gettin’ off on the thought of me fuckin’ you, bitch?”

It’s enough to give you whiplash

Still, you can’t complain that it’s boring

And it’s not like you don’t get your own enjoyment out of it

Whether or not he lingers after he fucks you depends on nothing in particular

Sometimes he’ll pull you close and press a kiss to your forehead, mumbling praises in your ear as he caresses your body

Other times he’ll put his boxers back on and rest against the door frame, just staring at you as you clean yourself up

He never leaves without making sure you’re alright, though

No matter how rough he was with you he gently traces over your body, making sure nothing hurt to bad

Then he’s back to his cocky self, trying to pretend he didn’t just treat you like a princess

There’s always marks littering your neck and shoulders

The sight of them is enough to let any tourists know to fuck off

You tried to cover them once with a high collared shirt but it only ended with more hickies and bite marks, this time high enough on your neck that even a turtle neck couldn’t hide them

He’s possessive, always having an arm or hand around you when talking to strangers that come by

He’ll, even around his own brothers he’s like that

He’s always smacking your ass or planting a kiss to your lips, leaving you to yelp in surprise

This man has a breeding kink

That’s just the facts

The thing is, the idea of having a kid makes him gag

He’s not a fan of the little gremlins

But something about you—thighs wrapped around his hips as he cums into you—the fullness of your cunt—the slight bulge of your belly—always gets him going

Maybe it’s the distant idea of raising a half-normal family for once

For now, you stay on birth control

Vincent Sinclair

He’s extremely introverted and self-conscious

You have to be the one to initiate most things

Even then he’s unsure of himself

He’s afraid he’ll scare you somehow

The first time you two are intimate it’s simply soft touches, your lips trailing over his skin as your hands stroke at his dick

It’s not sex

It’s too soft for that

You hated to use the word love-making, but you supposed that’s what it was

After his confidence is built up enough to take control, he catches on fast

He has a niche for precise finger-work, given his work as a sculptor, and has you cumming on his hands more times than you can count

He keeps his mask on 99% of the time

You don’t force him to do otherwise

It’s his comfort object

As long as he’s happy, you’re happy

Still, there are times where he pulls it off, only to hide himself between your legs

The first time he ate you out, he insisted upon a blanket draped over your bottom half, but he’s past that now, knelt down in front of you, fingers clutched against your thighs as he pushes his tongue further inside of you

You make sure to praise him every time he makes you feel good—wanting him to know it was him getting you off

It definitely helped his self-esteem

He’s still distant when others are around, but you’ve gotten to the point where you can sit in his lap and play with his hair while Bo lounges on the couch

Bo still gives you two playful taunts, but he’s just happy his brother found someone

Though he really needs to invest in some ear-muffs if you keep up with the moaning at god-knows-how-late-at-night

*cough* waxplay *cough*

#headcanons #headcanon #slasher #slashers #x reader #x y/n #x yn #slashers x reader #slasher x reader #smut #smut headcanons #mdni #slasher headcanons #michael myers #jason voorhees #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #house of wax #halloween #friday the thirteenth

[ponderingmoonlight]

can i request geto and reader having an argument and reader coming back home drunk venting to geto about the argument they had🩷🎀

Getting back home drunk after an argument with Suguru Geto

Pairing: Geto x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,1k

Synopsis: You always supressed the pain in your heart when your boyfriend dumps you for his best friend again. Until one day you've had enough. Until you get uncontrollably drunk to forget your fight.

Warnings: hurt to extreme comfort, language, reader being drunk lol

Hope you like what I came up with love, let me know what you think 🤍

„Hey sweetheart.“

Oh, how much you longed to hear his voice again, how long you’ve waited for him to come back. When was the last time you really saw your boyfriend? To be honest you lost count a long time ago. It shouldn’t bother you this much that he’s gone for so long. After all, Suguru is a special grade sorcerer, one of the best jujutsu sorcerers out there apart from Satoru Gojo himself. It’s only logical for him to be out on missions every free minute.

But there’s also Satoru. Satoru who’s busy himself. Satoru who steals your boyfriend every free minute. You tried to brush this ugly feeling away more than once. Are you really jealous because your boyfriend spends more time with his best friend when he’s around than with you in general?

Normally, it doesn't affect you this much. But since you haven’t spent more than 2 hours in a row with your beloved boyfriend apart from missions here and there, you can’t help but feel that violent sting in your heart when Suguru begins to pack his bag in front of your eyes.

“Are you leaving again?”

You desperately try to hunt away the petty tone in your voice, the feeling of frustration crawling up your spine.

“You know it’s been rough for Satoru these past weeks. As his best friend, I have to be there for him. We want to grab something sweet to eat-“

“You don’t even like sweets that much.”

Fuck, you hate yourself for your harsh tone, for the way your throat begins to ache in upcoming tears. Don’t lose your composure, just accept the fact that he’ll be gone today as well. But something inside you forces you to stand up, to cross your arms in front of your chest, to let your anger run free.

“But he does. What’s the problem, (y/n)? I just want to hang around with my best friend as long as I get the chance. Most of the time he’s on his own, going out on missions each and every day”, your boyfriend explains softly, his hand on its way to gently caress your head-

Until you slap his hand away.

“I’m having enough of this. When was the last time we spend time together, Suguru? You come back home when I’m asleep and leave before I wake up. I’m still your girlfriend”, you press out.

“This is the first time you ever said something about this. We’re still sleeping in the same bed every night”, he replies with low voice, making another attempt to touch you.

No. You can’t stand the feeling of his fingertips brushing against your skin, you can’t stand the stinging fact that he doesn’t seem to miss you the slightest. You take a big step back, blood pulsating through your veins. Why can’t he see that something is wrong in this relationship?

“Go ahead and sleep in Satoru’s bed if that’s enough then”, you bark back at him.

Suguru straightens his shoulders and crosses his very own arms in front of his chest, jaw tight.

“You know what he went through, (y/n). Do you really want me to leave him all alone over some cuddles? That’s pretty egoistic, don’t you think?”

You have to pause for a second, feel the sensation of your heart shattering onto the floor before his words truly hit you. What Satoru went through? You violently bite into the soft flesh of your cheek, desperately try to stop yourself from screaming into your boyfriend’s face. What about you, though? What about you almost getting killed because you tried to stop that man from following Suguru? What about you, caring for Suguru like no one else when Shoko healed his wounds? What about you, staying up each and every night and waiting for his return while he was out with Satoru?

What. About. You?

“You know what, Suguru?”, you mutter, teary eyes fixated onto the floor.

Never in your life did you feel this misunderstood. Doesn’t he miss you a single bit? Doesn’t he miss you lying in his arms while watching a movie, going out and grabbing something to eat? Doesn’t he miss to have you around, to hear your voice? Doesn't he understand that it's more than "some cuddles"?

You swallow hard. Because you miss him like hell. You miss those cuddles more than you ever imagined. And it fucking hurts to feel that he doesn't care.

“Fuck you.”

You can’t have it anymore. With a swift motion you turn on your heel and walk out of his room, ignore the way he shouts after you while hot tears stream down your face. There’s no way in hell you’ll stay here at Jujutsu High. No, you need distraction. And you already know who you’ll call.

“What’s up, (y/n)?”

“Shoko, get yourself ready. We’re leaving in 10 minutes.”

-at the bar-

You mindlessly draw circles into the fifth cocktail of the evening, mind clouded by guilt and alcohol.

“I told you alcohol won’t solve your problems girl”, Shoko comments dryly while sipping on her cola.

“Smoking doesn’t as well and still you’re out there smoking like a chimney”, you reply dryly before taking another sip of your drink just for demonstration.

“Fair enough. All I’m saying is you can’t run away from him.”

“Suguru? I already drank enough to forget his name”, you mutter.

"You just said his name, (y/n)..."

Truth is, you fucking miss him. What time is it? You lift up your drunk gaze, heart still clenched in sadness. Normally, you’d lay right by his side, eyeing him up and down while he’s already sound asleep.

This is not fair. You shouldn’t feel this way, shouldn’t fear to come back home. But you just know that you’ll get greeted by your very own empty bed. And what about the morning after? Shivers run down your spine just by the sheer thought of it. The way you just left him standing there like an idiot must have been hard to swallow for him.

Still…

You ball your hands into fists and empty your glass with one last gulp. He deserved every single word of truth that came from your mouth, he deserved all those things you’ve said.

“One more”, you mumble when the bartender arrives in your foggy view.

“No, that’s definitely enough for her. We gotta get going, (y/n)”, Shoko interrupts gently and pays for your bill while it takes all your inner will to not fall off this sky-high chair in the meantime.

The cold air of the night hits you like a wall, Shoko holding onto you with every bit of strength she has. Suddenly a wave of nausea crushes down on you, the icy air making your lungs burn uncomfortably. Damn, you just want to get home, just want to get into your bed. A glass of water…Yeah, you definitely need to drink something before you go to sleep.

But the sheer sight of Jujutsu High makes you realize that you won’t close your eyes this evening, pictures of your boyfriends’ hardened features still occupying your mind. You hate it. You hate every damn thing about the argument you’ve hard earlier, how unnecessary it was. Did he leave after you in order to see Satoru? The thought alone fills your numb veins with sheer anger again, makes you cross your arms in front of your chest just like you did earlier.

“You’re fine, aren’t you? I don’t want you to choke on your puke”, Shoko comments when you arrive at your doorstep.

Your fingers clumsily fumble for your keys until you finally grab the right one, gifting her a weak smile.

“Will get through it…Get ya ass into bed, Sh-Shoko.”

“You’ll talk things out tomorrow, okay? I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

You watch after her, how she disappears into darkness with one last wave. Then she’s gone, leaves you in the dark that seems to swallow you whole. What are you supposed to do now? All those memories flooding back in, the stinging fact that you don’t know how to act towards your boyfriend in the morning. All you want to do right now is take off your clothes, sip a cup of water and cry until you eventually fall asleep.

“Yeah”, you mumble to yourself while opening the door to your dorm.

“Cryin’ sounds good.”

“Hope you had a pleasant night, (y/n).”

Your heart stops, keys falling to the ground violently. No, this can’t be true. Did that really sound like…Suguru? Your tired eyes dart towards your bed, widen in sheer shock.

There he sits, on the edge with his arms resting on his knees, staring straight through your soul while all you are able to do is standing there like the drunk idiot you are.

“You drank, didn’t you?”

“None of your business”, you bark back at him, exposing yourself with your sloppy words.

“(y/n)…”

He sighs heavy, your name sounding so exhausting coming from his lips that your throat gets tight for a second. With a swift motion he lifts himself off your bed, his silhouette only lit by the moonlight that peeks through your window.

Just when he’s about to wrap his arms around you, you take a step back and almost trip over the bag you dropped onto the floor mindlessly the day before.

“Woah, easy there.”

Of course, he catches you mid-air. Of course, you feel like pudding in his strong arms. His scent hits you with full force, that baggy shirt not being able to hide his muscular frame from your trained eye. Oh, how much you’d love to lick his six-pack, to let your hands roam over his hot back. Why are you always this horny when you drank? But when your hand almost touches his chest, you remind yourself of what happened earlier.

The argument.

“Hope you had a great time with ya best friend”, you jeer at him.

Instead of letting go of you, he pulls you even closer. His eyes are near enough to inspect the colorplay of his chocolate brown orbs. If you stretch out your hand, you can play with his hair…

Get yourself together.

“Lemme go”, you protest weakly, almost tripping over your own feet while trying to get out of his arms.

“(y/n), look at me.”

You can’t escape his command. His eyes meet yours, reflect nothing but sorrow and sadness.

“I’m sorry for what I’ve said earlier. You made me think and I guess you’re right. I’m sorry for not making enough time to see you lately. It’s just that…I’m beyond stressed from all those missions and the fact that these people rely on me while on the other side, I don’t know what I’m fighting for anymore. I feel alone, trapped, lost in my fate. I feel guilty for the fact that this girl had to die, for the things that happened to Satoru…I…I feel like I don’t deserve a girlfriend like you anymore, your cuddles, your love, your food… You sleeping next to me felt so normal and familiar that it was everything I needed, (y/n)…”

Your foggy mind can’t comprehend all those senseless words put together, but his sight…The way his eyes turn glossy makes your heart shatter all over again, makes you wrap your hands around his neck out of instinct.

“No.”

You press yourself against his much taller frame, get lost in his scent, in his hair, in him.

“Please don’t say that. You deserve all the love in the world, Suguru. None of those things are your fault and I get it. Maybe I was the one being egoistic when all I could think about was having you for myself from time to time…”

“You running away in all that anger you supressed so long made me realize how much you really mean to me. I love you, (y/n). And I was the one being selfish when I cut you short because of my own feelings. I promise to make more time for you, at least two evenings in the week, I promise-“

“Shut the hell up”, you interrupt him with a wide grin.

“I don’t understand a word ya say. But I love you too, Suguru. And I want you to promise that we’ll watch a movie tomorrow.”

He sniffs while chuckling in the most precious way, his grip around your waist tightening.

“Oh yeah, what did you think of?”

“I thought about something like…Twilight!”

“I don’t know if I’m able to promise that, (y/n)…”

“You just did! Now, I’m so damn tired, let’s jus’ go to bed…”

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#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk hurt/comfort #jjk angst #jjk getou #jjk geto #jjk suguru #jujutsu geto #jujutsu kaisen suguru #geto x reader #geto suguru #geto x you #geto x y/n #suguru #geto fluff #suguru fluff #getou suguru x you #suguru x reader #suguru x you #suguru x y/n #suguru x satoru #getou suguru x reader #geto x female reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #gojo saturo

[bratbby333]

two is better than one

gojo x fem!reader x geto ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ nsfw mdni warnings: Threesome, drug use, language, praise/degradation, name-calling, rough sex, mild voyeurism, creampie synopsis: Newly single and looking for trouble, you find yourself in between two of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen. word count: 5.2k

“Fucking prick,” you seethe, taking yet another shot of tequila down.

Your skin is burning, and it’s not just from the liquor coursing through your veins. You’re fuming. Your boyfriend of two years dropped the ball on you earlier this week.

“I don’t love you anymore,” he states. "And I haven't for a while." He avoids your gaze. What a pussy. He’s seemingly so sure of this statement, yet still attempts to hide from confrontation. Typical. 

This isn’t the first time he’s done this. It doesn’t hurt like it used to, though. It’s a toxic, cyclical pattern you’ve endured for years, and somehow grown accustomed to.

You look at the ground and can't help but laugh, shaking your head. You meet his gaze again, your eyes swimming with rage and disappointment, and head to your shared bedroom to pack some of your belongings. 

You pack as much as you can into a suitcase, and as you head to the door, you turn to face him one last time. 

"I'll be back later this week to get the rest of my stuff," rolling your eyes at him as you depart. There was no reason to fight this anymore.

To others, you seem heartless and cruel for the way you handled this situation. The truth is, you hadn’t been present in the relationship since the last time this happened. You anticipated the end from the moment he offered to "try again". You knew he'd never change, and you were too weak to leave first.

You blame yourself for putting up with his neglect for so long. You’re ashamed that you allowed him back in time and time again. Each time he walked away, it was you who was left to pick up the pieces. 

It’s time to take control of your life again, but why not have some fun first? Everyone copes in different ways, and tonight, your vices come out to play. 

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

You’re unsure of how many drinks you’ve had thus far, let alone how high your tab was now, but you couldn’t care less. 

All you want is to feel nothing at all. 

You rub the furrowed area between your eyebrows tentatively, stomach burning with liquor. “I need a cigarette,” you grumble.

Outside, you lean against the brick wall of the club, feeling the bass still pounding in your chest. Your ears are ringing from the change in volume, your eyes readjusting to the yellow cast of a nearby streetlight that contrasted the dim lights of the club. You don’t notice the dark man join you along the wall as you pull the cigarette cartridge from your purse.

“Need a light?” His voice is sultry and low, almost inaudible. 

Your eyes meet his and you raise your eyebrow at him, as if to let him know you’re wary of him, but nod and lean forward with the cigarette in your mouth, eyeing him the whole time. He pulls a lighter from his pocket and flicks the gear with his thumb. You inhale deeply and lean back, head tilted to rest against the wall again, then exhaling gently towards the night sky. 

Your eyes fall back on the mystery man as he sparks a cigarette for himself. He’s alarmingly handsome. Tall and dark. Broad, strong shoulders. Alluring. You can’t help but stare. 

He catches your gaze and you see a smirk curl at the edge of his lips. You feel a warming sensation run throughout your body, flushing your cheeks, and this time it wasn’t due to the tequila. 

“Suguru,” he states with a soft smile. 

“Y/N,” you respond. 

“So what’s a pretty girl like you doing out here when all the fun's inside?” he inquired. 

You roll your eyes at the corny nature of his question.

“Nursing a broken heart, if I’m honest,” you breathed out, looking away again and taking another drag from your half-smoked cigarette. 

Suguru nods, sensing you don't want to open up about it. He takes a puff of his own preroll.

You make small talk as you both work on finishing your cigarettes, enjoying a break from the noise in the cool, quiet evening. 

"Are you just now getting here?", you ask, trying to distract yourself from the inappropriate ache in your core caused by a man you've only just met. 

"Yeah, my friend and I are just trying to blow off some steam after work," he replies, taking another puff. 

"What do you do for work?" you ask, intrigued, wanting to know as much as you possibly can about the mysterious man standing before you.

"I'm a teacher."

"Nothing nobler than education. I commend you," you respond teasingly, tilting your head. He chuckles in response.

A teacher, you think. There's something sexy about a patient man who can lead, command, and discipline. 

There's a lull in the conversation, so you take the time to really drink him in. Finishing your cigarette, you notice how his sharp, defined features juxtapose the soft feathering of his long hair. He's unreal. He reciprocates, taking in every angle and curve of your face. Something unspoken is floating around the two of you, and after a few moments, Suguru breaks the tensioned silence.

"Your ex is a dumbass," he bites. "I would want nothing more than to fill your life with pleasure," he breathes out, seemingly frustrated. You smile. You hadn't been complimented in months. 

"You deserve to be worshipped..." he adds, pausing between his words. You watch Suguru's eyes run along your body once again. He admired the way your tight dress hugged you, clinging to your waist before tapering out at your hips. You curved so effortlessly, so beautifully.... "and simultaneously destroyed."

Suguru couldn't take it anymore. He needed to feel you. 

He closed the distance between the two of you, his hands finding your waist, effectively pinning you against the wall. 

You bring your arms up to wrap around him instinctively, resting your wrists against the back of his neck. You inhale deeply. He smells divine. 

You gaze up at him, eyes wide. The sudden close proximity catches you off-guard. The difference in size and height between the two of you sends another pulse to your core. You're touch-starved. You couldn't remember that last time you and your ex had been intimate.

He chuckles softly at your reaction. Shit, you think, can he tell I'm getting turned on?

Feeling bold and newly free, you look from his lips to his eyes and back again. 

Message received.

He crashes his lips into yours. You moan at the force, prompting Suguru to trace your bottom lip with his tongue. The sensation between your legs only grows hotter. 

A grown escapes his soft lips, hands clawing hungrily along each others bodies, tongues battling for control, the shared taste of cigarettes and liquor making it even more arousing. Your bodies are fully flush against one another, one of his legs wedged between yours. You thrust your hips slowly, grinding against him. The contact against his firm thigh giving you the stimulation you had been craving for months. You moan into his mouth, your pussy throbbing against him. You continue to rut against him, his hands pulling you down to intensify the contact between his clothed thigh and your hot, pulsating core. This carries on for several minutes, but for you two, it feels as though no time has passed.

You pull away from him to catch your breath, eyes low and head dizzy. He groans at the loss of contact, but steps back a bit, allowing you to smooth your hair out and readjust your skin-tight dress. You didn't want him to know how much of an effect he already had on you, but he seemingly already knew after the show you had just put on; Get it together, Y/N. You guys had only just met, for Christ sake, regardless of how badly you wanted him to drill you outside the club. You step closer to him and kiss him deeply once more, pulling away but keeping your faces close. 

"Your taste is addictive, baby," he breathes out, eyes low. You smile to yourself. Let's have some fun, shall we?

"Maybe we'll run into each other again," you seduce, smiling wickedly at him before turning and walking back inside. Suguru huffs a bit, annoyed that you were leaving so soon, his desire for you growing even stronger. But his dark eyes flickered with excitement, watching your hips sway as you depart. Your defiant nature seemed like a challenge. And Suguru loved the chase. 

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

You return to your seat at the bar. Your mind is consumed by the arousing interaction with Suguru. You wanted more. But, after spending two years with someone who wanted nothing more than to leave you, you thought it was only fair for you to be chased this time around. 

You cross one leg over the other in hopes to quell the sensations throbbing deep in your pussy, but it only added additional pressure. You huff softly. I need more tequila, you decide. 

You catch the attention of the bartender with a smile and motion with your finger that you'd like another round. As she returns with your mixed drink and shot, a voice emerges from just over your shoulder. 

"Put her tab on me," the voice states, sternly. The bartender nods, making the requested changes on her handheld system before going to cater to other patrons. 

You turn your head toward the unfamiliar voice, only to be met with the most beautiful pair of eyes you'd ever seen peering over the round frames of his sunglasses. Strikingly blue. He grins down at you, and your breath hitches in your throat, another pulse sent straight to your core. He's gorgeous. Platinum white hair. Tall. Slender. Violently confident and charismatic. Anyone who wears sunglasses at the club is either too intoxicated to make eye contact or just absolutely insufferable. But his seem to suit him perfectly. 

"Hello, beautiful," he smirks. His arm snakes around the back of your chair, his hand rubbing deep circles into your shoulder. You lean into his touch and stifle a moan that threatened to escape your lips, still recovering from your interaction with Suguru. You smile back up at him through your lashes.

"I'm Y/N", you purr, tilting your head slightly with a small smile. With all these beautiful men wanting your attention, you should have called it quits with your ex a long time ago. 

"Satoru," he replies, his free hand taking yours. He brings your hand to his lips and kisses it gently, winking at you. You giggle at the cheesiness of his affections, but it was definitely working. He releases your hand and removes his arm from around your shoulder, taking a seat next to you at the bar. You turn to face him, and you notice him raking his eyes up and down your body, taking in every part of you, before his gaze meets yours again. 

"There has to be a reason why a stunning woman like you is drinking alone at the bar," he says smoothly. 

"I would return the sentiment, but it seems neither of us are alone anymore," you grin, pushing your hair out of your eyes. 

"I appreciate you paying for my drinks," you follow up.

"It's been a while since anyone's done that for me," you say, your appreciation swirling around your words. You sip from the cocktail straw in your drink, gazing deeply into his eyes. 

"Anytime. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to speak to you," he replies. 

You watch as his eyes run up and down your body again. Your cheeks flush and the pulse between your legs picks up again, and you recross your legs in an attempt to hide it. 

But there's no hiding from Satoru.

He leans closer to you, placing his hand on your thigh. You glance down, his thumb rubbing gently on your soft flesh. Your breath catches in your throat, and Satoru smirks at the way your body is already responding to him. His mind wanders to what else he could do to you...to the sounds you'd make for him. 

He begins to speak, but before he can get anything out, another voice interjects. 

"I see you've met my friend, Satoru."

You lock eyes with Suguru, who's now standing beside Satoru. You glance between the two of them, panicked. Shit, you think. Not good. You had enough drama in your life from the past two years to last you a lifetime. And of course, being caught between two friends tracks for the kind of luck you have in your life. 

Before you start pleading your case, Satoru speaks up.

"Damn, so you got to her first, huh Suguru?, the white-haired man huffs out, directing his attention toward his friend. Satoru's thumb is still massaging your thigh, squeezing hard, as if to assert dominance.

"Yeah, I did. We had some fun out there didn't we, Y/N?" Suguru retorts, smirking down at you. Your mind wanders back to the way you were using his thigh for your own pleasure. Unsure of how to play this situation, you nod slowly, blushing, still glancing between the friends. Satoru smirks at his friend's comment. 

"So, are you guys going to fight over me or what?" you boldly ask, resting your elbow on the bar top and propping your head up, hoping to regain control of this situation. Satoru chuckles at your statement, glancing up at his friend.

"That won't be necessary, princess," Suguru says teasingly, directing his gaze back to Satoru, who gives a small nod in response. A coy smile spreads across both their faces, looking back at you. Your heart rate quickens and your eyes darken, and while you're unsure of what's in store for you this evening, you can't help but feel aroused. Fuck it...let's have some fun. 

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Shot after shot cascades down the trio's throats as the night carries on. With the music rattling through your chest and the spotlights bouncing off the walls, you find yourself getting lost in this moment. You felt free. Pure ecstasy courses through your veins. Your back is pressed up against Satoru, grinding your ass in tempo to the music. Suguru is sat in a booth, arms extended along the back of the chair and legs crossed, watching the whole ordeal, his erection becoming more difficult to conceal. 

You tilt your head back against Satoru's shoulder, peering up at him through your lashes, and his arm snakes around you. His hand finds its' way to your neck, massaging it gently. The contact only spurs you on, grinding deeper into Satoru's crotch. You can feel him grow harder against you, his other hand clawing at your hip, pulling you even closer. People lingered around the two of you, the dance floor of the club teeming with sweaty, intoxicated bodies, but it felt as though you and Satoru were the only people on earth. 

Your eyes maneuver through the sea of people around you and lock eyes with Suguru. He's smirking at the two of you. Even with the distance between you, you can tell he's enjoying the show. Maintaining eye contact with Suguru, you run your tongue along your upper teeth, grinding harder against Satoru. You see Suguru shift his weight in the booth, knowing he's getting harder watching the steamy interaction between you and Satoru. 

You turn around to face Satoru, wrapping your arms around his neck. Bringing his face closer to yours, you run your tongue vertically from his bottom lip to his top lip. He groans, grabbing the back of your neck to deepen the kiss. Your tongues are battling one another for control. Soon after, you feel another body press up against your back, You break the kiss, Satoru removing his hands from around your neck to find your waist. You turn and see a smirking Suguru. He brushes your hair away from one of your shoulders, ducking his head down to gently suck on the soft flesh of your neck. You roll your head back and rest it against his shoulder, eyes lilting closed. You moan at the way his warm breath dances along your sensitive skin, sending chills down your spine.

Satoru pouts a bit, feeling left out. He uses two fingers to tilt your chin back so you can meet his gaze. Your eyes are glazed over, lids low, and Satoru chuckles at how fucked out you already look. He leans down and kisses you deeply again. Suguru is still suckling gently. He breaks away from your neck and brings his lips closer to your ear.

"Are you ready to go, princess?" Suguru asked, feeling you nod desperately against his shoulder, still making out with Satoru.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

You're sat between the two men in the back of a cab, heading to the hotel you've been staying in since leaving your ex. Both of their large hands are placed each of your thighs. Your attention is on Suguru, kissing him deeply, tongues lapping against one another. You pull away, a thick trail of spit connecting the two of you. You turn to Satoru and give him the same treatment, mixing all three of your fluids together. Suguru groans at the sight and digs his fingers into your thigh before dragging his hand under your dress and over your panties to meet you in the place you crave him most. He rubs tantalizingly slow circles into your clit, making you rut into his hands.

"Feels so good, doesn't it, princess?" Geto asks you, teasingly.

"Your pussy is so hot for us," he continues, growling into your ear. You try to pull away from Satoru to fall deeper into the feeling of Suguru playing with your pussy, but Satoru grabs you by the back of the neck to prevent you from leaving.

"Stay right here, sweetheart," Satoru mumbles against your lips.

"Be good for us," he groaned out. You moan in response. Satoru's grip on your neck constricts and relaxes over and over, massaging your throat, and the throbbing in your pussy matches the rhythm against Suguru's hand. You place your hand on Satoru's bulge, palming him through his slacks. You mirror your actions against Suguru. You hear Satoru's breath catch in his throat from the sudden contact, and Suguru growls softly into your ear.

"That's it, baby, th-that's it", Suguru slurs out.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

After pulling up to the front of the hotel, Suguru hangs back to pay the driver while you and Satoru stumble up the marble stairs and through the entrance way, not wanting to break the contact between the two of you. You break away for just a second as you pass the woman who checked you in on your first night. You exchange small smiles at one another as you and Satoru walk by, her knowing about the situation that brought you and her to meet. Her eyes widen when Suguru catches up to the both of you and slings his arm around your waist, guiding you and his white-haired friend toward the elevator. Her surprise is soon replaced with elation, and she giggles to herself, happy to see you're finally enjoying yourself. Atta girl, she thinks.

The ride up to the 15th floor feels like an eternity. You're pressed up against Suguru, his back flush with the elevator wall, the two of you making out deeply once again. Satoru is on the opposite wall, palming himself to the scene unfolding in front of him. The doors finally part, and Suguru leans down and picks you up by your thighs. You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist and intertwine your finger behind his neck for support. He walks the two of you out of the elevator, Satoru hot on your tail. At the door, you break away from Suguru's lips to pull your keycard from your small handbag. Handing it to Satoru before reigniting the kiss with Suguru, you hear the lock disengage as he taps it against the keypad and pushes the door open.

Suguru drops you onto the bed before standing upright again, he and Satoru shoulder to shoulder, smirking at each other before peering down at you. The dominate energy of the two of them send chills down your spine.

"Isn't she beautiful, Suguru? I can't wait to ruin her". Your eyes widen at Satoru's brazen remarks. You prop yourself up on your elbows, bringing your thighs back together and blushing at the two of them.

"Don't get shy now, sweetheart, you were such a tease this whole evening," Satoru laughs out, leaning over you.

"You're gonna take what we give you and thank us after we're done with you."

"She's quite the vixen..you should have seen the way she blue balled me outside the club," Suguru growled back in response. His hands find the hem of your dress, dragging it up over your hips as you sit up more so he can fully remove your clothing. Laid out before them in only a black lace thong and matching bra, they drink in the delicious sight. They each remove their outer layers, discarding them across the room, until they're left in only their boxers. You run your eyes up and down each of their bodies. They look delicious. Chiseled from marble.

Suguru climbs onto the bed, resting his back against the headboard. He leans forward and grabs underneath your arms, dragging you up the bed so that your back is flush against his toned chest. You're sat between his legs, his strong, calloused hands holding your thighs apart as Satoru lays himself on the bed, settling his head between you thighs. Your breath hitches at the sight of his pretty blue eyes staring up at you.

Satoru kisses along your thighs, the warmth of his exhales teasing you, purposely skipping over your dripping cunt. You groan, bucking you hips toward his face, only to be held back by Suguru's firm grip on your hips.

"Aht aht, that's not how good girls ask to be pleased," Suguru murmurs into your ear, gripping your hips even tighter.

"Tell Satoru what you want, princess".

"P-please 'Toru, your mouth," you whimper out. Satoru's finger runs up and down your clothed slit, making you buck your hips again.

"You gotta do better than that," Suguru chucked, "Beg for it, sweetheart".

"Please, fuck me with your mouth. I promise to be good. I want to c-cum on your tongue. P-please, Satoru." Without hesitation, your panties are ripped off of you and discarded, Satoru's tongue delicately dancing up and down you slit before taking your swollen, needy clit into his soft lips, sucking hungrily. You tangle your fingers in his blond tresses, pulling gently. Satoru groans into your cunt, the vibrations bringing you even closer to the edge.

"You sound so fu-fucking good 'fa me, baby girl," Satoru stutters out, trying to speak and eat at the same time. "You k-know it's rude to talk with your mouth full, right ahh.. right, Satoru?", you try to retort. Satoru giggles into you and you hear Suguru's chest vibrate against your back with a chuckle.

Suguru's mouth hangs open, the gushing wetness of your pussy and the sounds you're making in response to his best friend devouring you fills the room. It's almost unbearable for Suguru to resist pushing Satoru away and taking you all for himself.

"She's a fiery one, isn't she, Satoru?" Suguru raises an eyebrow at his friend, who peers up from between your legs and nods in response.

"Mhmm, and she tastes so fucking good," Satoru murmurs against you in response, his tongue still thrashing against you. Satoru teases one finger against your hole before plunging it deep inside you. Pumping in and out rhythmically, he finds your g-spot with ease. He massages into you with the rough pads of his long, slender fingers. His lips latch around your swollen bundle of nerves, sucking greedily. You feel the coils tightening in your stomach, arching your back away from Suguru.

"I...ahh f-fuck..I'm s-so close, Satoru," you cry out, trying to close your legs around his face. Suguru pries your legs apart and holds them open.

"Let go, baby. C'mon, be a good little slut...cum for him. Show him how good he's making you feel," Suguru whispers in your ear. Satoru pumps his fingers deeper into you, sucking even harder on your clit. The tightness in your tummy finally snaps, eyes rolling back in your head, a small yelp leaving your lips. You feel yourself spray your release all over Satoru's face. His eyes widen in surprise before he laps up everything you give him, relishing in the way your sweet juices coat his tongue. You're shaking as he cleans you up with his tongue, riding the fine line between pleasure and overstimulation.

"Mmmm, you saw that Suguru?" asks Satoru, "We found ourselves a squirter". Satoru's tongue continues to lap you up. Suguru's eyes darken at that. He pulls his digit out of your dripping pussy, presenting it to Suguru so he can taste you, too.

Suguru can't take it anymore. He's been rock hard against your back this whole time, fighting every carnal urge that's raking through his body. When he finally gets a taste of you, the restraint he had been so desperately clinging to snaps. He sucks you off Satoru's fingers hungrily, eyes rolling back in his head at your sweetness.

Satoru scoots back as Suguru pushes you onto your stomach, your chest against the mattress and hips in the air, his head dipping to meet your cunt. He drinks up what Satoru so generously left behind for him before straightening up again, sliding his boxers off. He positions himself behind you, teasing your clit with the head of his thick cock. You groan at the sensation, the aftermath of your first orgasm still making your clit sensitive. You push yourself back against Suguru, only to be stopped by his hands taking a hold of your hips.

"Tell me what you want, sweetheart", he says, still teasing your clit with the head of his cock.

"I want you inside me...need to feel you stretch me out...please, Suguru," you beg, trying to push back against him again. Suguru chuckles at this.

"Dirty slut is learning fast isn't she? Being such a good fuck toy for us."

With that, he lines himself up with your dripping hole, and plunges deep into you, giving you no time to adjust to how thick he is as he drives himself deep into you. Your slickness from your orgasm is the only thing saving you from his thickness.

Satoru leans down to kiss you, pulling his boxers off and discarding them. His long cock bounces out and sits rock hard in front of your face. You lick your lips at the sight of his pretty pink head dripping pre-cum, eyes half open, head bouncing from getting fucked into from behind.

"So fucking wet for me, sweetheart. You're taking me so well. Such a good little slut," Suguru gritted his teeth.

"C-can I please...oh-h fu-fuck...can I please suck you off, Satoru? W-want you to come down my throat," you stumble over your words, trying hard to keep your head upright as Suguru continues to drill into you, ramming directly into your sweet spot, his cock stretching you out so painfully, so perfectly. Satoru moans at your question.

"Thought you'd never ask..go ahead, princess. Be a good girl and let me fuck your mouth." His hand cups the underside of your jaw, keeping your head up for you.

You open your mouth and stick out your tongue for Satoru, inviting him in. His hands tangle in your hair, wasting no time before plunging deep into your throat. You gag around his length, eyes watering at the sudden intrusion. Suguru is fucking into you so deeply, his powerful thrust pushing you deeper onto Satoru's length. Gagging and sputtering, you inhale deeply through your nose, adjusting to the pace before opening your throat for Satoru.

"Jesus Christ, she's fucking milking me," Suguru spits out, his unrelenting hips still plowing into you. You can only moan in response, the vibrations running from the back of your throat into Satoru's member, causing him to buck his hip, shoving his cock all the way down your throat.

"Such a pretty mouth..wrapped so tight around me..it's-it's so warm..o-oh fuck," Satoru rambles, one hand on the back of your head, the other under your chin, holding your mouth open for him.

Your stomach begins to tighten up again, and you desperately clench around Suguru. One of his hands leaves your hips and reaches around to start rubbing vicious circles into your clit. The added stimulation pushes you over the edge, and you cry out around Satoru's cock, tears trickling down your face as your second orgasm rakes through you. The sight of you succumbing to Suguru's relentless strokes while choking and moaning around his cock was enough to push Satoru towards his own release, and he bottoms out in the back of your throat before shooting his come into your mouth. His hips sputter and he hunches over, holding your face against his pelvis. Your eyes are rolled back in your head, your own squirting orgasm making it difficult for you to keep upright.

Satoru pulls out of your mouth with a pop, your aching jaw still agape from Suguru continuing to slam into you, chasing his own orgasm. Your chest falls to the bed, unable to keep yourself up anymore, before you're lifted back up by Satoru.

"Stay with us, princess," Satoru coos.

"You're doing so good...let him keep fucking into you. You're taking his cock so well".

Suguru's head falls back, still pounding his hips roughly against your ass.

"I'm gonna fill you up, baby," Suguru pants. You turn your head to protest, but before you can utter a word, Satoru's hand covers your mouth.

"Shut up and take my cum, slut. Be a good fuck toy and let me cream you." Suguru says through gritted teeth. You moan against Satoru's hand in response as you feel Suguru release inside of you, his hot, creamy ropes coating your insides. He trusts a few more times, letting your tight cunt milk every last drop out of him. When he pulls out, you feel your foundation waiver and you collapse onto the bed, your head falling into Satoru's lap.

It had been so long since you had a good fuck. You over-anticipated your body's capabilities..you had been out of the game for too long.

"You did so, so good for us, princess," Satoru says, you head resting against his thigh, trying to regain your composure. You can only hum quietly in response, eyes fluttering. The two men look at each other before looking back down at your fucked out body. Satoru rubs your upper back gently as Suguru massages your shaking thighs. You all sat like that for a moment, relishing in the pleasure still coursing through your veins, the hot smell of sex sitting heavy in the room. Suddenly, Suguru's deep, sultry voice cuts through the silence.

"Don't quit on us now, sweetheart. We're just getting started," he taunts.

author notes: whewww..this is my first story to welcome myself back into the content mines. this was a fun one to write. im def gonna do a part two (how would we feel about turning this into a multiple chapter story where y'all end up in a throuple heheheh....too much or no ((are we seeing the vision))?? lmk if im doin too much. but thank you so so so much for reading and engaging. ill be uploading even more soon. if u have any questions, suggestions, or concerns pls message me!!

© bratbby333 on tumblr. all rights reserved. please do not distribute. 2024.

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #geto suguru #gojo x reader #geto x reader #jjk x reader #satoru gojo smut #suguru geto smut #gojo x reader x geto #satosugu #satosugu fanfic #satosugu smut #satosugu x reader #jujutsu kaisen writing #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo #suguru geto #jjk gojo #jjk geto #gojo smut #geto smut #bratbby333

[hellsslibrary]

Hi...um oh shit. This's my first request, so sorry if it's bad... Anyway, can you write headcanons on the demon brothers going into their first heat with their alpha(Male reader)?

(If you can't it's not a problem😁)

❀Headcanons about the demon brothers and their first heat with Alpha!Male!MC❀

DNI: minors.

!!Warnings: omegaverse, heat, breeding kink, implied poly!Mc, breeding kink, praise, Dom!Lucifer, possessiveness, lactation(Lucifer), pet play(Satan), P*ss kink(Mammon), Marking, somnophilia(Belphie), Beel want to be a mother, demonic form(Levi, Belphie), Masochist Satan, Chest play(Asmo), kind of Daddy kink(?) (Asmo).

Lucifer

Probably the rarest and fastest heats in the family. Like, he just drinks pills and forgets about these heats, without even paying attention to it. But sometimes he gets too much work or stress from his brothers and forgets to take those pills and then the heat starts (literally and figuratively).

Also, probably someone who wouldn't want you to impregnate him. That's why he always takes birth control pills. He already has 6 children who annoy him every day, he doesn't need another one.

Crazy possessive, like CRAZY. He gets so clingy and jealous, he won't let you out of his nest for more than 10 minutes. And thank God, his heats lasts only 3-4 days...

Get ready to leave his nest after his heat, covered in hickeys, bites, scratches, bruises and, in general, in the marks of Lucifer. (He certainly apologizes, but not sincerely)

I guess he's very dominant in heat, so if you wanted a sub Luci ... In heat, no way.

He will just ride on your cock until he squeezes all your cum out of you and then he will keep your knot inside, not letting you out.

In general, his behavior is not much different during heat, except that he becomes even more affectionate than usual.

For example, does he see that you are hurt by his prints or are you tired? He will immediately stop doing it and calm you down (Though he won't get off your cock, nah).

I also think he's lactating during heat and his breasts swell for obvious reasons... If you're into lactation, he might even breastfeed you, lol.

Mammon

So... Probably the second most frequent and longest heat after Beel. Like, they happen often and last about a week, sometimes two.

You know right away that he's in heat when he starts texting you with whining requests, and if you're lucky, even naked photos of him.

In general, ready to let you out of his nest, but only if you come running after his first message with a request like "Mc, I want your cock again, so get your ass over here."

Becomes extremely whiny and sensitive, he can come even through some kind of petting. Literally every touch you make drives him to hell(or heaven,idk).

Probably would like you to impregnate him, but would not want children, because he is simply not ready for this, he is too insecure.

Wants you to mark him. It doesn't matter how. Just do it, he loves your marks, smell, whatever. He must know that he is yours.

He also becomes extremely honest as his tsundere nature is washed away immediately by the fact that he can't think straight and he just keeps praising you and telling you how good you are.

(Piss kink!!) Probably starting to get into piss kink, yes (if he wasn't into it in the first place, which I'm not sure about). You just know... His smell on you or your smell on him, no matter what, turns him on, and if it's such a strong smell, even more so.

Leviathan

His heat is not frequent and not fast. In general, they are quite stable and he even adjusts his game mode for them.

He becomes even more submissive than he is. I don't know how that's possible given it's literally canon, but... Just imagine having a handsome, shy, whiny boy for about 5 days that you can do whatever you want with as long as you fuck him.

He is 999 percent for fertilization. There's something so exciting about having your sperm in it, but knowing that it's literally your child/children in it... It's just awesome.

I think the sins of all the brothers in general just go to the peak during their heats, so... Damn it, he won't let you out of it, your knot MUST be in it and only in it... For a maximum of 5 minutes if your natural needs play out.

Mmm, more likely he'll be in his demon form because he's more comfortable in it and he just can't contain it, so... Pull his tail, bite and pull back his scales a bit, pet/pull/scratch him horns or stroke his double cock, he'll explode from it, hehe.

Satan

The most stable boy. Heats are about 4-5 days and always start on schedule, just wonderful and cool.

Becomes an extreme masochist during his heats, he wants you to be extremely strong and hard dominating as much as you can be.

He will also probably allow and even offer to put him on a leash and fuck him, pulling on it, ahem.

His pet play skyrockets, he becomes extremely helpful to you. You are his master and he is your GOOD kitten, so why shouldn't he follow your every order, hmm?

He will calmly let you out of the nest during heats, without even worrying, but only if it is no more than a couple of hours, it becomes difficult for him without you.

As for fertilization, he has a neutral opinion. Of course, driven by instinct, he can and will want your sperm in him. But, if you ask his sober opinion, he does not feel anything for the children. Do you want kids? Okay, fertilize him. Do not want? Okay, he'll take birth control.

Also, I suppose he is very quiet during sex or some hot moments in general, even during heat, but if you still agree to be a hard dominant for him ... Oh, Mother of God, buy earplugs for all the brothers, but better take them on vacation.

He doesn't tend to nest too often, by the way. It's just that, given how messy his room is, cleaning it all up would be such a torture.

And a random thought in the end. Loves when you eat it before you insert it. Of course, he's already wet, but he just loves the feel of your tongue in him, it just drives him crazy.

Asmodeus

Well... The most unstable heat. They always happen differently. Sometimes often, sometimes not. Sometimes it lasts a long time, sometimes it lasts a very short time. In general, everything is difficult.

It has the strongest smell of all. So strong that it can be felt even outside the home. Its sweet, floral scent is simply mind-blowing.

And it also releases an extremely high amount of natural lubrication, like seriously. By the end of his heat, the sheets will be just soaking wet.

He is flattered by the idea of ​​babysitting his and your common children, but he completely rejects the idea of ​​pregnancy. Stretch marks, a huge belly, a fatter build, pallor, nausea, and so on, he will just look unattractive to himself.

Also, calmly let you out of his nest. He could easily go a few hours on his own without your cock in him, although he would certainly prefer it to be you.

He has the most sensitive chest of the brothers. He just squeals with pleasure when you suck/lick/nibble on his nipples or massage/squeeze/rub his chest.

He will probably post a photo after heat, where he will be with his face fucked up on wet sheets with marks on his body and with a caption under the photo like "You know, it's so good to have a daddy in two ways." If you don't understand my chic humor, I'm sorry.

Beelzebub

Oh, in general, the most frequent and long heats. They last about 2 weeks, by the way, so good luck, mate. And usually they occur at the same time with Belphegor.

He is the biggest fan of breeding kink, on par with Levi. It's so sweet to have kids by you that he can take care of and eat with or play sports with (or whatever, he's not a picky boy)!

His appetite increases even more (And somewhere in the distance, one Lucifer sighs heavily due to the increase in food bills). Well, it's true that he also has an increased appetite for sex, so he'll just keep doing it until he squeezes all the juice out of you.

His chest swells, by the way, during heats. So... Man boobs, my kittens, man boobs.

He praises you very much during heats, and sex in general. He just loves everything you do and it brings him such great pleasure, he can't help but praise your actions.

In general, praise him in return. He's going to be so embarrassed about it, it's just a miracle.

Releases you during his heat from his nest freely. Although, after that, you will probably immediately jump into Belphegor's nest and start working with him.

In general, he has a strange thing about the fact that you call him something that is related to motherhood Mom/Mommy/Mother and so on, he blushes and is shy from this, imagining that he really can become a mother.

Belphegor

All his heats passes in a dream, like real. He wakes up for about two hours a day to eat and that's it.

So, if you have somnophilia, this is the right time for you, sir. You can just fuck him in almost any position and no one will tell you in denial.

He's in his demonic form, one hundred percent sure of it. So you can play with his horns or tail, maybe he will purr (or even moo like a cow, lol).

He doesn't really care if you impregnate him or not. He doesn't want to deal with all these pregnancy-related issues, but he'll be happy to have kids with you if you want.

He moans funny during heats. Some kind of hoarse and high moans and whining, when he lazily shakes his head in a dream, but still does not wake up.

Well, there's actually a chance he'll wake up. He just might want to eat, which is logical, and if you catch that moment and don't fuck his twin at that moment, you'll hear the most wonderful moan you've ever heard.

Also, if he wakes up, he'll get extremely territorial and leave his fingernail scratches on you to let everyone else know you were with him (and Beel, of course).

#obey me x male reader #dom male reader #seme male reader #top male reader #a!writes. #obey me smut #obey me x reader #sub obey me #🥀a!praise kink #🥀a!a/b/o #🥀a!dom/sub #🥀a!piss kink #🥀a!breeding kink #leviathan x male reader #mammon x male reader #lucifer x male reader #satan x male reader #asmodeus x male reader #beelzebub x male reader #belphegor x male reader #sub mammon #sub beelzebub #sub satan #sub character #sub leviathan #sub asmodeus #sub belphegor