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yandere-daydreams · 3 months

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Title: Ferine.

Pairing: Yandere!Toji x Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 4.1k.

TW: Hybrid AU, Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Slight Manipulation, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Knotting, Mentions of Blood + Violence, Slight Breeding, and Biting.

Toji was, by far, the largest hybrid you’d ever taken care of.

Which, technically speaking, wasn’t that big of an accomplishment. This was barely your third month at the research facility, and you could count the number of hybrids you’d encountered before being hired here on a single hand. Still, even compared to the other wolves you currently looked after, Toji was beyond impressive. His long, pointed ears and stocky build set him well above six-foot, and even if he’d lacked height, he would’ve been able to make up for it with the planes of sculpted muscle circled around his biceps and thighs, laid over his chest and back. Top it all off with a set of claws each longer than your pointer finger and sharp enough to pierce reinforced steel, and he was practically fit for exhibit. Not that Toji could ever actually be a show dog, no – he’d tear the judges apart before they’d so much as heard his name. He was sweet, but he had a temper. You had to be careful not to set him off.

His fangs were impressive, too – perfectly in-tact despite years of less-than-adequate care, only a touch duller than a real wolf’s. You were careful not to let your hand stray from where it cupped his cheek as you looked for signs of damage or rot only to, of course, come up empty. The longer you spent with him, the more convinced you were that nothing could actually hurt Toji, even if the faded scar stitched into the corner of his mouth suggested otherwise.

“All done,” you started, letting go of his cheek. Immediately, Toji’s jaw snapped shut with enough strength to take off a finger, had you given him the chance. “Perfect as always, Toji. I think you might be my best patient.”

A cocky smile found its way to his lips, and you could hear his tail beating lazily against the dirt floor of his enclosure. The facility was committed to replicating the natural environments of their more exotic hybrids as closely as possible, even if Toji claimed he’d trade it all for a punching bag, or better yet, something ‘real’ to dig his teeth into, whatever that meant. “Do I get a treat, doc?”

It was asked playfully, but still, you hummed by way of confirmation, pulling your duffle bag into your lap and fishing Toji’s well-earned rewards – a generic chocolate bar and a can of some painfully acidic, sickeningly sweet brand of soda your hybrid patients couldn’t seem to get enough of. It was a meager prize, but it was as much as you were able to spare considering how strict his caretakers were when it came to his diet. You’d probably save yourself a few dirty looks if you didn’t give him anything at all, but it didn’t feel right to leave him empty-handed.

He accepted your humble offering greedily. While the chocolate bar was stowed away for later consumption, the can was pierced with a clawed thumb and emptied in one long, unpleasantly audible swig. You’d only started to push yourself to your feet when Tojj finished, letting the now empty can fall to the ground before turning his attention back to you. “It hurts my feelings, knowing you’re just gonna run off and put your hands on another animal.” His ear pressed flat against his scalp, as if he was trying (and failing) to feign disappointment. “If I didn’t know better, I’d start to think you didn’t really care about all the time we’ve spent together.”

“You’re not exactly in desperate need of medical attention,” you chided, throwing your bag over your shoulder. “And I’m on a schedule. Not all of us can sit around, grooming ourselves all day.”

That earned a breathy laugh, a coy lilt to his smile. “Well, if you wanted to take a shot at it, I wouldn’t—”

“Save it. I get enough of that with the cats.” Just thinking about it made you grimace. It was one thing to think that Toji might bite you. Knowing Satoru and Suguru – the bonded leopard and panther pair who shared a check-up date with Toji – would insist on licking any exposed skin raw before letting you do your job was a much more tangible reality. “I’ll see you in a couple of days. You’ll be good until then, right?”

“I’m gonna gut those fucking strays.” His answer was blunt, immediate, but he cracked as soon you shot him a purse-lipped frown. “Kidding, kidding. I’ll just rough ‘em up a little – make ‘em regret putting their paws on you, y’know?”

You couldn’t help but soften. Toji was rough around the edges, but he wasn’t a bad dog. He just had a protective streak and that, paired with his brash personality and tendency to bite before he barked, was enough for most people to write him off.

You really did have a long, long list of other appointments you had to get to before the end of the day, but against your better judgement, you paused as you passed him, reaching down to rake your fingers through sleek black hair. He was stoic, especially for a hybrid, but even his cool, dark eyes and wry smile couldn’t hide the way his tail moved just a little faster at the feeling of your nails raking over his scalp, his ears immediately perking up. It only took a second for him to bat your hand away, but you only laughed as you started towards the staff exit, waving to Toji over your shoulder.

Maybe, for his next check-up, you’d see if you could sneak in something special.

“Your mutt’s been unruly, lately.”

You glanced up from your clipboard, turning your full attention to Nanami and quickly finding that he hadn’t paid you the same courtesy. He was one of the senior researchers and, so far, the only one you could stand to be around for any longer than a few minutes. Since the higher-ups expected you to fill out your reports with one hand while you took a four-hundred-pound tiger’s temperature with the other, you tended to camp out in Nanami’s office when you had paperwork to file. “Toji?” Nanami nodded, and you rolled your eyes. “I’m just the vet, Kento. If his handlers aren’t doing their—”

“The problem isn’t his handlers, it’s him.”

His voice was flat, his tone icy. You laid your clipboard over your lap, crossing your arms over your chest. “He’s an animal. It’d be more out of character if he didn’t lash out occasionally.”

Nanami opened his mouth, but closed it just as quickly. After a lengthy pause, he leaned back in his seat, bringing a hand to his temples and massaging absentmindedly. “Do you know why he hasn’t been released back into the wild, yet?”

Obviously. Working with hybrids – let alone exotic hybrids – was dangerous, and your debriefing had drilled the face, name, and background of every animal in the facility into your memory. “He was born in captivity. He’s too acclimated to human society to adjust to the wilderness.”

Nanami pressed his lips into a thin line – an expression you’d learned to read as ‘you’re right, but I’m not going to say that’. Still, a degree of satisfaction accompanied his silent confirmation. “He was found in a dog fighting ring – or, what was left of one, at least. It took three rounds of sedation and two broken muzzles before our recovery team was able to get him under control.”

A knot formed at the base of your throat. Fuck chocolate, Toji deserved a blanket and as many hugs as he would let you give him. “That’s terrible, Kento. Were the organizers arrested?”

“The organizers—” Nanami straightened. “—were found mauled and stuffed into a kennel. Their bodies were so thoroughly mutilated, we had to rely on blood samples to identify them.”

“Wolves aren’t known for attacking unprovoked. It could’ve been another—”

“One of his handlers is currently hospitalized,” Nanami went on, as if you hadn’t cut in. “And two have already turned in their resignations – a resounding fear for their welfare in the workplace, supposedly.”

Your eyes fell to the floor, and that knot in your throat tightened until only the barest whisper could find its way out. “He’s not a bad dog,” you muttered, nearly under your breath. “He just— He loses his temper, sometimes. He doesn’t mean to hurt anymore.”

“He’s never tried to hurt you?”

You didn’t have to think before shaking your head. “Never.”

That, of all things, seemed to catch Nanami’s attention. For the first time, his eyes flickered briefly to you before falling back to his desk, his paperwork. “Good,” he said, marking down something on a piece of scrap paper in front of him. If he felt the need to elaborate, he clearly didn’t deem it worth the effort.

Later that day, you were informed that you were being transferred to the reptile wing indefinitely. If you’d been there for a few more months, if you’d had a little more experience to throw around, if you’d had a little more authority, you might’ve protested, but it was all you could do to nod and set to memorizing your new schedule.

It took exactly three weeks for you to see Toji again.

One of his handlers – a woman in her early twenties sporting a pressed scowl and a gauze-padded bandage on her cheek – met you at the facility’s gates and flatly told you that Toji was injured. You’d never been in the facilities (much less with a hybrid) after sundown, and in the simulated wilderness of his enclosure, it was easy to forget that you were never more than twenty feet away from a security camera, that there was only one apex predator you had to be afraid of. After checking your usual meeting spot (clear spot near the center of his enclosure – neutral territory, safe territory) and finding it vacant, you reluctantly stumbled your way to his den, dragging your feet despite the urgency of the situation. Toji wouldn’t deliberately attack you, but any animal could react if provoked. You didn’t want to set him off. More importantly, you didn’t want to prove Nanami right.

You’d never ventured far enough to see his den, but you knew what to expect. A square shell of cement occupied the deepest corner of Toji’s enclosure, bracketed off by a metal door tucked inside of a deep entryway meant to give the illusion of privacy. You approached it slowly, stepping underneath the shadowed overhang with no small amount of caution, but you didn’t get the chance to knock before a hand manifested on your shoulder and shoved you against the cold steel.

Claws bit into to the dip of your shoulder, then your wrist, too, as he caught your hand and shoved it into the small of your back. You felt hot air on the nape of your neck, heard heavy panting laced with the barest trace of a throaty growl, and it took everything you had not to panic, not to struggle, not to give him a reason to dig his teeth into your neck and tear. Toji wasn’t a bad dog, but he was still a dog. He’d still bite, if given an excuse.

“Toji,” you started, slowly, taking care to soften each harsh syllable of his name. “I’m here to help you.”

He didn’t respond, his hold only tightening. His check pressed into your back, and there was a short, airy noise – sniffing, as little as you wanted to put a name to it. “Toji,” you repeated, with more urgency. “I heard you were hurt. Will you let me help you?”

A second passed in silence, then another. Finally, he pulled away from you, releasing your wrist first, then your shoulder. He remained where he was – a little too close, a little too looming – as you shuffled to face him, forcing yourself not to consciously acknowledge that you were in a very big cage with a very poorly behaved animal. His handlers hadn’t mentioned why they’d needed you, but you didn’t have to wonder for very long. Even in the pitch dark, you could see the dark blood covering his jaw, washed over his throat and chest. It was on his hands, too, coating the white bone of his claws, and matted into his dark hair. Your waning self-control faltered then shattered altogether, your hands shooting to his head, his face, searching for bruising or swelling or broken bones, but surprisingly, all your worry earned was an airy laugh. “It’s not mine, doc.” He laid a hand over yours. “I’m doin’ just fine. Even better, now that you’re here.”

But he wasn’t. Twin sets of puncture marks were littered across his throat, his face, his arms. Something had taken a chunk out of his left bicep, and five matching scratch marks had been etched deep into the skin of his chest. The wounds looked feline, but you couldn’t bring yourself to linger on the implications. “You’re hurt,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him. Your hands fell to his shoulders, pushing him downward gently. “I— I’ve got bandages, and sutures—” You let your bag fall from your shoulder to your elbow, already reaching for the zipper. “Find somewhere to sit. We should get you cleaned up before something worse sets in.”

Panic was quickly overshadowing your better judgement, but Toji didn’t move, didn’t look away from you. He was still wearing that coy, sardonic grin – almost teasing, given your anxiety. “I already told you, I’m just fine.” His smile widened, until his pointed fangs caught in the dim light. “I didn’t think you’d actually come. They said I could ask for whatever I wanted, but—” He paused, sucked in a sharp breath. “I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

“Toji, you’re not making any sense. You need help.” Again, you pushed gently on his shoulders, and again, he didn’t seem to notice. This time, though, he shifted, leaned toward you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You scowled, shoving a little less gently on his chest, but Toji didn’t move. “Toji, please, just let me help—”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, princess.” You felt his hands on your waist, then your ass. His chest was slotted against yours, and his tongue ran unabashedly over the curve of your neck once, then twice before he went on. “Keep sayin’ my name like that, and I won’t be able to control myself.”

Something pressed into your thigh – hot and hard and, like the rest of Toji, fucking huge. Your heart fell into your stomach, the air flooding out of your lungs and leaving you dazed, breathless.

Fuck. Fuck.

You should’ve stuck with the fucking reptiles.

Toji was panting audibly, again; his tongue lapping over your neck, your cheek. You were still cursing yourself for ever applying for this shitty job in the first place when Toji fell to his knees, forcing your thighs onto his shoulders as his claws caught on the fabric of your pants, decimating the thin material in an instant. His teeth tore away your panties just as quickly, leaving you exposed, splayed out on a silver platter in front of him. You reacted reflectively – knotting your fingers in his hair and doing your best to pry him away from you, but your strength was nothing compared to his and in the end, all you earned was a throaty groan, a tight squeeze to your ass before he buried his face in your cunt. His teeth grazed against the tender insides of your thighs, his claws biting into your now-unprotected skin, but the feeling of his tongue laving over the length of your slit replaced every other sensation with pure heat.

Predictably, he was near animalistic – his thick tongue fucking into you as the bridge of his nose ground shamelessly into your clit. From a distance, it would’ve been hard to tell if he was trying to eat you out or eat you alive; every noise he made feral and wet, punctuated with rough growls and little, uncharacteristic whines. It would’ve been impossible not to feel anything, but still, you couldn’t help but hate yourself when it started to feel good. His tongue was thick and textured, long enough to fill your pussy and flexible enough to curl inside of you, abusing the walls of your cunt without mercy. It was difficult to tell how much of the gloss staining his chin and the inside of your thighs was his drool and how much of it was your arousal, but even if your mind was disgusted by every slick noise and sharp flick of his tongue, there was nothing your body could do to block out the sudden pang of heat in your core, to fight the way your legs ached to clench around his head and pull the source of your revulsion that much closer.

“To—Toji, no, st—” you tried to say, like you were scolding a normal dog, like any part of you still thought he was listening. A cracked moan cut you off prematurely, and even if it hadn’t, Toji’s only response was a bruising squeeze to your ass, a low moan just loud enough to reverberate against your sensitive clit. Blinding white flashed across your vision, and before you could stop, before you could bring yourself back from that edge, you were coming undone on his tongue, your hips bucking against his face as he nursed you through your mind-numbing climax. Rather than pull away, he forced his tongue that much deeper into your pussy – taking advantage of your hypersensitivity to drag another unwilling orgasm out of you, then another, until the dried blood smeared across his lips was tacky and dripping onto your skin. He only pulled away when your little, pained sounds began to die into half-choked pleas and your limited strength failed, leaning you limp and boneless on top of him, and even then, he took the time to drag his tongue over your slit, to lap up what would’ve been wasted slick. You would’ve given anything for him to just leave you like that – messy and covered in your own arousal, but unfortunately, Toji had never been a bad dog.

His gaze flitted up to meet yours. “Sorry, princess,” he muttered, when he saw the misery knitted into your expression. The broad grin he wore was anything but apologetic, though. “Might’ve gotten carried away after all. Can’t help it – you always come to me, smellin’ like other men, and nobody ever lets me do anything about it.” He nuzzled into the inside of your thigh, nipping at the tender flesh with just enough force to break the skin. There was a tight pinch, of bright spark of pain, but Toji tended to the minimal wound lovingly, running his tongue over the thin stream of blood. “Gonna have you nice n’ scented by the end of the night.” A sharp whimper slipped past your grit teeth as the points of his fangs grazed over your skin, and Toji sighed. “Gonna have you nice n’ bred, too, if you keep making those sounds.”

Bred. Bred. Bred. You turned the offensive word over in your mind, unable to grasp what it possibly could’ve meant, as Toji carefully lowered you onto the ground – never so much as toying with the idea of fucking you into anything other than the cold, raw earth. It wasn’t until his clawed hand fell to the hard, pulsing cock standing stiffly between his legs that you were able to fully process what he’d said, what he was threatening to do to you. Your thoughts went blank, your years of veterinary school and countless hours of animal-handling training and common sense all dissolving into total nonexistence in an instant. It didn’t matter that he was taller than you, stronger than you – you were already throwing your full weight against him, scratching at his chest with your blunt nails, doing everything in your so incredibly limited power just to get away from him. Your latest wave of resistance wasn’t enough to overwhelm him, but it earned a frustrated rumble at the base of his throat, a downward quirk to his cocky smile. Your nails caught one of the puncture marks on his cheek and, reflexively, he straightened his back, brought his hand to his face, left just enough space between your body and his for you to roll onto your chest and scramble desperately towards freedom. You’d barely gotten your knees underneath you when his hand lashed out, catching you by the collar and forcing your cheek into the soil. His chest pressed into your back, his legs caging yours in on either side, and worst of all, his cock throbbed against your ass – somehow, impossibly, harder than it’d been a few seconds ago. You might’ve jotted it down as an impressive display of canine resilience, if you hadn’t felt so desolated.

“Shoulda figured you wouldn’t make this easy on yourself.” His voice was rougher than it had been, but no less self-satisfied. That made sense. Wolves were endurance predators. He would’ve come into this expecting there to be a struggle. “I thought you’d be more of a mate than a bitch, but—” He paused, his mouth settling against the nape of your neck. “—either’s fine by me.”

You clenched your eyes shut. “Please, Toji, don’t do—”

But, it was already too late. He rutted your ass once, then twice, before his tip caught on the entrance to your abused pussy and he was inside of you, fully sheathed without a trace of resistance.

Toji was big, even for a hybrid. He was a hunter, tried and true, all muscle and agility and pure, unfaltering strength. Even with his generous (albeit, unwelcomed) prep, it was all you could do to convince yourself that his cock wouldn’t tear you apart. He was thick enough to press against every soft and sensitive spot inside of you, long enough to leave a tight knot of pressure sitting in the pit of your stomach, and when he started to move, pulling out slowly before slamming back in, the force alone was enough to scatter little black spots in the corner of your vision and leave you hazy, light-headed. The way he was fucking into you didn’t help anything, either. Keening whines slipped out of some deep, feral pocket of his chest as he took advantage of your vulnerable cunt, alternating between grinding into you with a desperate sort of clinginess and trying to bully his way that much deeper with bruising, brutal thrusts. One arm wrapped around your midriff, dragging you even close to him, while a groping hand found the delicate buttons of your top and tore, ridding you of what was left of your protection against him. He kneaded half-consciously at your chest as he fucked into you; his own pleasure suddenly his only priority.

His selfishness should’ve been a welcome change, but you were too far gone, your body too eager to find a silver lining to his rough affection. Your hands clawed mindlessly at the ground as he pumped into you, the heat of his body against yours clouding your senses and making the feeling of cock stretching you open, his dull head pounding against your cervix all the more unbearable. You doubted he’d be able to talk, even if he’d had anything left to say, but he was still vocal enough. Raspy groans and harsh grunts rung distantly in your ears, his calloused hands groping mercilessly at your chest, your stomach, your waist. Finally, his thumb found its way to your neglected clit, and with less than a full second of stimulation, you were buckling into yourself, clamping down around his cock with a fractured whimper. As humiliated as you were, Toji wasn’t far behind. With something between a moan and a howl, he was cumming inside of you – predictably making no attempt to pull out. Something hot and vile flooded into you, but it was hard to focus on that when you could feel something hard and bloated and wrong press into your entrance. Toji’s breath hitched as he forced his knot into your tight cunt, and whatever hope you had for coming out of this unscathed curled up and died inside of you.

You could feel him slacken on top of you. You almost thought he would collapse like that, leave you locked to him and trapped under his weight, but instead, he nuzzled against the crook of your neck, his fangs ghosting over your throat before sinking into the soft flesh just underneath your jugular. He stayed like that, his knot splitting open your pussy and his teeth buried in your neck, until you lost any hope of him ever pulling away.

Exhausted, you shut your eyes, sinking into yourself. You’d been right, in a way. Toji wasn’t a bad dog.

He was just a terrible terrible man.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere oneshot #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagines #yandere jjk #toji x reader #yandere toji #fushiguro toji x reader #yandere fushiguro toji #hybrid au

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rafeysdoll · 10 days

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oh my goshhh i hate this so much. i’m so sorryyy i just had to get something out!

you gag, drool falling down your chin. your swollen lips wrapped around his throbbing cock as rafe pulls on your makeshift ponytail— being able to control how fast he wanted you to move on and off it.

his pelvis brushes against your nose as you look up at him with teary eyes — freshly manicured hands digging onto the sides of his legs as he fucks himself into your mouth.

“makin’ me real proud baby. real proud,” he praises, other hand stroking your cheek.. chuckling when he feels his own bulge through it.

“d-doing such a good job, like.. you were made for this shit,” he grumbles, vulgar words making you whimper around him, the vibration making him hiss.

the oldest cameron couldn’t help but find you beautiful like this — some expensive mascara running down your face causing black wet streaks on your foundation, lipstick blemished from the way it connected with his dick, doe eyes looking at him submissively. with love. the sounds of ‘plop, plop, plop’ having him addicted.

your boyfriend’s left hand trails to your bra, tugging it down to reveal your hardened nipples — quickly pulling it lightly before fiddling with your other breast.

“what a sight to see.” he mumbles, groping your tits as he continues using your mouth as his own personal flesh light until he feels that buildup in his stomach reaching the finish line, grip tensing on your hair.

“fuck.. fuck, gonna cum.. y-you gonna swallow?” he strains, abdomen tightening.

usually, you’d love for his cum to spill to the back on your throat, tongue painted white as a small memory of him. but, you felt different today. some hurt or maybe even obsessive part of you craving a fuel to your ‘only rafe exists’ mindset. wanting more of a.. branding.

you lift one of your hands, pointer finger giving him the signal ‘no’ before pointing it to your flushed face. “s-shit, want me to paint your face?” he asks like you could answer.

you whine, closing your eyes in preparation instead.

rafe delivers one more thrust into your warm mouth before pulling out, warm liquid squirting on your face as he slowly touches himself over your face, riding his high. “fuck,” he finishes with a groan.

you slowly open your eyes one by one, peeking. “like it,” you mewl a bit raspy, attempting to hide your mischievous smile.

“yeah.. yeah? like that shit baby?” he chuckles, putting himself back in his boxers before helping you stand up. “god baby, you’re real.. real fucking perfect you know that?” he hums before spreading his own seed across your face even more.

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apomaro-mellow · 1 year

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Steve let out the greatest sigh he'd ever heaved. "I can't believe I have to fuck him."

Robin's head whipped to him so fast like he just said he was gonna jump off a building. "You don't have to."

"No I'm gonna", Steve said, eyes not leaving Eddie. He was biting his thumb like he couldn't wait to get alone with him.

Robin looked back at Eddie, who was filling up his plate with things from the picnic table. "I don't see it."

"Because you're a lesbian."

"With taste. And standards. I mean what exactly has got you twirling your hair right now?"

"I mean look at him!"

Eddie had a plate in one hand that already had an open burger on it. The fingers of his other hand danced like they were trilling a piano as he was deciding on what to put on the plate next. He grabbed some chips on the side and then placed the plate down to figure out what he condiment he wanted.

Eddie put his hand on his chin like it was the utmost important decision. Then he grabbed the mayo and the mustard in one hand and squeezed them in a swirl.

"You gonna kiss him with must-ayo breath?", Robin snickered.

"I wish I was that burger", Steve said as he watched Eddie sink his teeth into it. Steve bit his lip while Eddie was licking som stray sauce off his fingers and Robin felt uncomfortable.

"Um, do you, Eddie, and the burger want some privacy."

If Steve was being honest, he didn't fully trust himself to be alone in a room with just Eddie and whatever he was currently feasting on.

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

Eddie wasn't drunk. He wasn't even buzzed. No this particular evening, he was simply loopy on lack of sleep. He'd meant to go to bed, honest. But an idea popped into his mind and things kept adding in a delicious stew of inspiration and he just stayed up all night.

When Steve heard that, he nearly cursed him out for driving like that to his house.

"We were supposed to meet today, Steeeeve."

"It could've waited."

"Hmm, one doesn't make the king wait."

Eddie collapsed onto his couch and Steve thought he might conk out right away, but he was valiantly staying awake. Steve sat next to him and thought he might wait to see just in case Eddie fell asleep in the next 15 seconds.

Instead, Eddie reached out slowly with his pointer finger and booped Steve's nose. "It's so pointy", he said in a croaky voice. "Bet the girls loved that."

Steve snorted. "What?"

"When you ate 'em out."

"Dude!", Steve laughed. Eddie was always pretty candid, but this was another brand.

Then Eddie began to draw circles on Steve's face with his finger, all while drawing out that croaky sound before saying "Phooone hoooome."

Steve giggled and Robin finally spoke up from the loveseat.

"Yeah, I'm still here. But you know, movie night can wait or whatever."

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

Steve's hands were in his face as he sat on the edge of his bed. Robin was patting his back reassuringly.

"There, there."

"It's just... Robin you should've seen him."

"I've seen him, babe."

"Not like this he was just-he was so into it!"

Steve had gone to pick up Eddie from the Wheeler's. He figured he'd find the other either with Mike, or maybe even Nancy. But no. Eddie had been in the backyard, in the middle of a very intense game of pretend with Holly. It had taken Steve everything not to strip and beg Eddie to give him his own babies.

"Have I...always been this much of a slut?", Steve asked.

Robin thought for a second before answering. "Yyyeah. But also, you've always been a goofball. Now that I think about it, you and Nancy had kinda an opposites attract thing. But maybe you don't need to opposite. You need someone as silly as you."

"Steve!", Eddie nearly crashed through his door. "We're making a blanket fort downstairs, you in?"

Steve rubbed his face and looked to Robin, admitting defeat with his eyes and then looked to Eddie. "Yeah. I really do."

#apo writes #stranger things #steddie #platonic stobin #steve is in the closet about his goofiness #and nothing else #robin has to tell him yeah yall are made for each other #ur both clowns

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lundenloves · 7 months

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@bringinsexybackk69: can i please request dad simon with a boy? like yeah he has all his girls and then there's either the youngest or the oldest and it's his only son? i can just picture like the girls are jealous cause he gets new clothes not hand-me-downs, he gets to do his own sports with out his siblings, he gets to go shooting with the 141- just like totally sibling rivalry and fighting over who is dads favorite?!

youngest.

simon is over the fucking moon when he finds out it's a boy - he's one of them dads in american gender reveals who says “i think you're a girl but i need you to be a boy" 💀

instant attention all goes to this kid, because A) he actually knows how to do it now and B that's his boy. that's his fuckin lad.

the kid looks like you. boys look like their mums, girls look like their dads n all that but christ does he have simon's quietness.

a complete observer like his dad. will be in silence while the girls argue, quietly exchanging glances with simon who internally feels like fucking high-fiving himself for creating a kid who finally understands him.

however the clothes are admittedly down to you, you love buying shit. any excuse. and having a son instead of another girl gave you great reason. though you did go too far sometimes. credit card bills rocketed.

he gets his own room too. straight off the bat, fresh into this fucking world and he's got it all. or that's how your daughters seen it.

“how does he get everything."

“give him a fucking chance." mumbling something about how he's only a week old. the dad sigh strikes again.

him and simon fuck off together a lot. they'll be away camping somewhere, simon teaching this (probably half uninterested) kid how to do all the survival stuff since his girls were never interested.

and when he gets older, maybe around seventeen to eighteen he's so game for that stuff. realistically, was probably in the school cadets n all 💀

when he's able enough, he'll maybe tag along on a run with 141 or summat. this is an incredibly humbling experience to say the least, though uncle soap is there to make everything a laugh n slow the run. "boys, boys, give the lad a chance eh?"

gets into his dads routine of the gym in mornings too, simon watching his workout from a distance before giving him pointers - hands on hips before stepping back to see if he's doing it right or not.

although, simon does not let him apply to the army. all fun n games till it wants to happen isn't it padre?

probably applies behind simon's back ngl. resulting in a huge fuck off argument once a letter comes in stamped under british army branding under the kids name instead of his own. yikes.

classic son x father shouting match.

i’m probably going to get asked to write that now aren’t i? happily, gladly, don’t get me wrong. sorry i haven’t been writing much but i do enjoy talking to you lot in the inbox.

simon 'ghost' riley taglist: @vamppxncess @crowbird @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @lea3773 @coldflapjack @rayhawk05 @han11dh @liishook @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @takeomisbitch @local-spidey @konigsblog @penutjuice @babychoi03 @sheluvzeren @sparklingtragedy @maviee @wiserebelpartypie @daddylorianisastateofmind @bhayatsara @mistydeyes @writingmysanity @johfaam0 @idkbbyx3 @gressseyy @fwibblefwobble @shibble @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @airghostlyfox @hotgirlsshareaccounts @simpxinnie @cliosunshine @bloobewy @lazybutsmexy @maki-z @yyiikes @tieflingteatime @cosmoscoffee @lilvampirina @cinnabeanz @bubbyblob @spencerreidisbae123 @ellies-girll @paperbag-prncs @cookiecutta @sluttyforsimon

#simon ghost riley #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod mw fanfiction #simon riley #ghost mw2 #simon riley x reader #cod mw2 x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley headcanons #dad!simon #simon riley x female reader #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley headcanons

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seattlesellie · 9 months

Note

Would you ever write something with gf Ellie first time ever degrading you?? :O I feel like she’d be so subtle at first and shy but then realizes you are into it and she starts going further and calling you a slut etc etcccc I feel like it’d be so hot to hear he all shy only to end up mocking reader🤓🤓

warnings: doing it while your parents are sleeping in the next room, little degradation, strap on sex ‘n bad writing.<3

full, stuffed— is exactly how you felt. when ellie has the 8 inch silicon cock snug inside of your gummy, tight walls, it’s hard to imagine you’ve ever been empty, or, well… that you ever will be again.

this rooms walls are paper thin, and you know your parents could hear if you dared to screech or to moan an octave higher. for ellie, for ellie it’s easier because she groans and pants, and she can do it quietly enough because she’s not the one getting railed deep inside her childhood bedroom. before you and ellie arrived, you made a promise. “no sex until were back home”, and hell, you even made her use her pinky.

but now— your juices are flowing down your thighs and her thighs and it all sticks together in a mushy, slippery little mess.

when ellie plunges herself deeper, hitting the bottom of your cervix with the light purple, mushroom like tip of her strap— you frantically yelp. “nggh… el— s’too deep i ‘cant—“, ellie shushes you immediately; brings her pointer finger to the plush of your lips and zips them together. “shh shh… fuck, gotta be quiet”,

she warns you. she cares. she’s such a sweetheart.

your panicked expression, the way your eyeballs nearly pop out when she pushes it in deeper on purpose, makes ellie know that she’s going to have to use more than just her finger to shut you up. another whine escapes your lips, and this time, ellie slaps her entire clammy palm on your quivering mouth. you attempt to peel it off with your hand, but ellie knows better. the other hand, her unused one— maneuvers itself down to your sensitive, split open pussy, and her thumb begins lightly circling your clit while maintaining her brutal pace. ellie knows that whenever she touches on the sensitive little nub for the first time— especially when it’s been neglected for over 3 minutes now, your body freezes entirely. so you don’t slap her hand away (you can’t), but you squeal out a muffled sound of her name. “mphhllie!”

you squealed. you actually squealed, and every time she slams it in deeper— you squeal again, like a puppys brand new chew toy, right out of the box.

for you, it’s absolutely embarrassing. it’s embarrassing because it’s only been 6 minutes thats she’d been fucking you for and she’s already rendered you a squeaky, squirming mess.

for ellie, however, it’s melodic. in fact, it makes ellie’s puffy clit throb and makes her toes curl up inside her white socks.

to you, you sound pathetic.

to ellie, you sound like a raging slut. most importantly, her raging slut. she won’t ever say it though, but god— how she wants to.

her thumbs beginning to slip, going side to side instead of her calculated circles, and she’s starting to lose it. you know she does, because everything she says comes out through gritted teeth. “i swear… you gotta keep it down, babe” she whispers, kissing you softly on your cheeks to calm you down. for some reason, that sweet action makes you squeeze around her strap and she swears she just felt it.

“almost there… huh, pretty girl? you almost there?”, you nod— and she nods with you. “mhm… you can give it to me… know you want to, shit— give it to me”. ellie slips out, slaps the tip on top of your aching clit and plunges herself deep again. this time, when you feel it slip back inside, you moan several octaves higher. ellie whimpers, because ellie can’t help it anymore, and then—

a door cracks open. not yours, thank god— but your parents’ bedroom door. you freeze, ellie freezes, and you can feel her heartbeat on top of your chest.

two light knocks on your door. “sweetheart, everything alright? i heard something” your father rasps, and it’s his sleepy voice that tells you he actually fell asleep but woke up because of your noises.

ellie shakes her head rapidly, pupils all blown out. “say something!” she whispers frantically. she’s still inside of you and when you mean to get her off, she accidentally falls on top of you and the strap buries itself inside deep. “gah—‘f ‘fine dad! don’t ‘c, come inside we’re studying!”

thankfully, he accepts it— and walks off.

leisurely, absolutely ignoring what had just happened, ellie slams into you in an awful, torturous, delicious slow pace. whenever she moves, your wet squelching sounds fill the air and it’s disgusting.

“this is… all your ‘f— fault!” you yelp, and ellie giggles. to that, you wrap your legs around her back and push her in deeper. the base of her strap grazes her clit and sends a shockwave through her body. she can’t move, paralyzed— so you move her yourself. she looks you in the eyes, and if she can’t use her body, she might as well use her mouth.

“shit, s’not my fault you sound like a slut” she murmurs. the nickname makes you squeeze around her girth and another sweet droplet of your slick runs down your thighs to the seam of your ass. you shut your eyes, trying to think of a clever comeback— maybe she’s the slut. all that comes out, is an incredibly silly sentence, one that makes ellie nearly cum from nothing. “you made me this… w— way”

that smile that’s plastered on her pretty, flushed face is triumphant. “made you a slut, huh?” she rasps, and you cry out— fuck, she thinks. you like this. “who’s slut?” she asks, it’s meaningless, it really is because she knows.

“your… oh fuck!— your slut”

“ellie’s slut?”

you hum, nearly reaching your orgasm as she nearly reaches hers as well. ellie’s thighs shake and her vision is blurry— but she needs to tell you this, so she does.

“be a fuckin’ slut, and cum on this dick”

not fuckdrunk ellie would never say this. sober ellie would never say this. but the ellie whos inside of you now, the ellie who’s slut you are— yeah, she’s gonna say it. more than once, too.

when it’s over, she turns to face you between aimless, hushed giggles.

“hey slut, get me some water? m’thirsty” you gasp, and the pillow you throw lands on her face and nearly breaks her nose. (<3)

#𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 anon 🎀#ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fanfiction

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technicallypinkheart · 2 years

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#best pointer stick #pointer stick #pointer stickprice #lowest price pointer stick #branded pointer stick

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ares857 · 1 year

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internet find

#overalls #dungarees #pointerbrand #pointer brand #shirtless #beard #tattoo #tattoos #drinking #alcohol #dork #dorky guy #one strap #strap down

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stargirlo · 2 months

Text

whatever she wants ♡.

your boyfie luvs spoiling you with his money! and he doesn't care if he maxes out his credit card just by spending money on the stuff that you want to buy. he just wants to see his pretty girl happy, that's all. his love language is gift giving, so why not show his love to you by showering you with designer bags and red bottoms?

you're always whining about how he shouldn't give you this many stuff, even if it wasn't a special occasion. but he insists, who is going to stop him?

need your nails done? check, appointment is already made. you're craving oysters? the reservation is booked. want to be on the highest floor of a five-star hotel in singapore? prepare for the breathtaking view baby. your birkin bag is getting old? the order is at your doorstep. need a new tiffany and co bracelet? get in the car and lets buy you a new one.

honestly he knows every clothing brand that you like because he has a list of your wants and needs. whenever you say something like "this sundress is cute." or "these tory burch sandals would go with this, yeah?" he would instantly take note of it and buy it for you the next day. this man is tiring, but you absolutely adore him. not because of his money, but because of the way he treats you.

he treats you with full on royalty, as if you were his queen, in which, you already are. so, you can't help but give him your thanks to him for doing all these things.

"f-fuck baby, is this your thanks f'me..?" he dryly chuckles, slenders fingers slipping through your well styled hair, to which it was ruined by how tight he's gripping your fucking scalp. ouchie.

you nodded eagerly, sucking him off like your life depended on it. moans vibrated against his cock, letting his body jolt in absolute pleasure. he threw his head back, letting you have your way on his cock as it snuggles deep down your warm and tight throat. he can't help but buck his hips upwards into your throat, a stifled moan bubbling through his gritted teeth. a sweat rolls down his forehead, eyebrows knit together as he looks down at the gorgeous view of you being between his legs and sucking his cock to oblivion.

"ye'r such a slut y'know t-that . . . shit-" he hissed in pleasure, inhaling sharply before letting out a groan. your thighs rubbed together, trying to reach out for some friction for yourself while you gave your precious boyfriend a blow job. he lets out a string of curses and praises, murmuring something about how he's going to ruin your pussy after this, and it only turned you on further, feeling a wet patch on your victoria secret thong.

suddenly, you withdrew from his cock, watching a thin string of spit connect from his cock and to your glossy lips. you looked up at him teary-eyed, your plump lips turning into a small "o" shape as you let out shallow breaths. "what's wrong baby? dick t'much to take down ye'r throat?" he mocks, looking down at you with a sneer. how mean.

" 's okay sugar, daddy's gotcha . . . now c'mere," he pants, his pointer and ring finger beckoning you to crawl up his lap, and so you did. as you got yourself situated and comfortable on his lap, his cock occasionally rubbing against your soaked panties that was desperate to be fucked like a useless glory hole. his hands move under your skirt, pulling down the thong away as it revealed your hungry pussy to his eyes. it was glistening with your slick, and he was definitely going to have a field day with this slip 'n slide.

"you're so wet f'me, and all jus' by suckin' my dick." he chuckles, gripping your hips firmly and lifting it up with a subtle movement, just enough to feel the tip of his cock rubbing against your puffy 'n needy clit. you let out a short gasp, taking a hold on his shoulders as you looked down at the lewd scenery below you. "aht, aht sugar . . . look at me," he gently slaps your ass, bringing back your attention to him and looking at him directly. he murmurs a low "thereee we go." before sliding you down his cock, a high-pitched yelp eliciting from your lips.

his cock slides in further, deeper and deeper until you feel his cock fill you up to the hilt. you're now basically cockdrunk, and he hasn't done anything to make you be in this position yet. you babbled how he's "too big" and that "you're full" but he could only watch in awe. "shh, shh, look how soaked your pussy is . . . look at how easy it just slides in, aand out." he huffs, moving your hips with ease as the base of his cock slips in and out of your pussy, erupting a lewd squelch.

"now c'mon baby, show me how really thankful you are f'me . . ." his hands now let go of your hips, making you fully sit down on his cock as your pussy warms it up. your lips tug a small pout, his hands being placed behind his head as he raised a brow. his expression already spoke volumes on what he was going to say, so you tried your best to lift up your shaky hips and thighs as you worked your way into riding his cock.

let's just say he had to do most of the work later on :(

💌: gojo satoru, geto suguru, hiromi higuruma, chuuya nakahara, haitani brothers, sanzu haruchiyo, manjiro sano, shuji hanma, wakasa imaushi, rafe cameron, ++ your favs!!

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huhniebowl · 7 days

Text

Tomato Paste

dominic fike x reader

warning(s): nonee! well…he has an eyebrow piercing. again. it’s just gonna be canon for my fics now lmao

a/n: this is so cute, i loved writing and working on this omg. it was a little embarrassing to write i won’t lie, but here we are lmao.

i really am a slow writer, so i apologize for being so slow with your requests😭

i hope you love this, thank you for requesting! <3

"20 minutes, tops," You declare with your pointer finger, grabbing your purse and heading for the door.

"Can’t believe you forgot the tomato paste.” You mutter, slipping into your shoes, “Was probably starting at tits or something.”

Dominic raises an eyebrow, eyes lingering on your white tank top that’s tightly clinging to your body.

"Yeah, yours." He teases, locking his phone and winking at your boobs.

You gasp, clutching your shirt dramatically. "Fucking perv."

Dom pulls off his hoodie and tosses it over to you.

“20 minutes!” He reiterates. “I didn’t forget about that oat milk trip. We were there for damn near a decade.”

You laugh, that store trip was a disaster. You couldn’t decide on what brand was better. You ended up getting none of them and Dom was shivering by the time you left because he lended you his sweatshirt while in the dairy section.

“Yeah, yeah!” You call back, tugging on his hoodie.

“It’s just tomato paste. I got this baby. Trust me.” You wink, snag his keys from the key bowl, and blow him a kiss before slamming the door behind you.

Your relationship is still new, blossoming beautifully at the five-month mark.

Every visit felt weightless, a comfortable ease settling between you. He has a worn green mug by the sink, its familiar chipped rim and, coffee stains a silent welcome every morning.

In your top drawer, boxers and a pair of his mismatched socks, faded blue with cartoon ninja turtles, peeks out from your panties.

And tucked in your living room bookshelf, a framed photo of the two of you at the beach when he officially asked to be your boyfriend.

He’s easily made himself at home.

You agreed to tell your parents about each other once you reached half a year. It was your idea, believing that you and Dominic would be well past the honeymoon phase by then.

Which was proved true by month four.

Dominic digs through the fridge and pulls out a bowl of fresh fruit you had washed and cut up earlier.

With a bottle of water tucked into his sweatpants pocket, he plops down on the living room couch, opens up Netflix, and starts an episode of Supernatural.

Despite knowing you’re gone, he still glances at the front door. He knows he shouldn’t be watching this without you, but the last episode you left off on was too good of a cliffhanger.

He’s about halfway through the show when an insistent jiggling of the front doorknob echos through the house.

Sam and Dean’s fight starts to blur as panic floods Dominic's vision. No way you were back already – He knows you said twenty minutes, but he didn’t think you were serious!

His palms are slick, the remote slipping and sliding in his cold sweat.

A frantic scramble, a muted click – Sam and Dean vanish. Throwing the remote, Dom snatches his phone, adopts a posture of casual indifference, and opens a random app.

The door creaks open, a sound that scrapes against his already frayed nerves.

"Hey babe," He manages, attempting nonchalance. Silence answers him.

Then his phone vibrates with a text.

You MY PARENTS R COMING TO THE HOUSE THEY HUNG UP BEFORE I COULD MENTION U kjhasjhdf IM SO SORRY I’m hurrying home now omg

His eyes scan the frantic message. A torrent of misspelled words tumbled across the screen, punctuated by a desperate string of emojis that only you would send.

His heart, already doing a nervous stutter, plummets straight to his stomach. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not yet.

“Holy fucking,” Dominic starts under his breath, but he’s cut off by a voice that an tone lower than his will ever be.

“What the fuck? Who the hell are you?”

“Shit.” He finishes.

Dominic steels himself, taking a deep breath and rising to his feet. A charming smile, practiced a thousand times over, plasters itself onto his face as he turns around to face your parents.

The first thing that strikes him is the resemblance you have to your mother. You share her eyes and cheekbones, though hers were softened by time, their edges less sharp than yours. Age has been kind to her; she radiates a quiet beauty that makes Dominic clench his fists.

Not to hide his nervousness, but to sedate a far away thought - a vision of you, years down the line, etched with the same kind aging your mother was graced with, perhaps with children by your side, their eyes mirroring yours, but with his nose.

"Um, this isn't exactly how I pictured our first meeting," Dominic begins, his voice a touch higher than usual. He clears his throat, the nervous chuckle a hollow sound.

"I'm Dominic. Dominic Fike. I've, uh, been dating your daughter for the past five months and a half."

He addresses them formally, and by your last name, extending a hand for a handshake. Their expressions are unreadable at the mention of his name, a blank canvas that sends a jolt of relief through him.

The last thing he needed was for them to recognize him from some outrageous thing he’s said on the internet. A shiver runs down his spine, a phantom memory of his last concert ramble.

How he hasn’t launched into a word vomit, or worse, blacked out entirely, is a mystery. Dealing with fame has its drawbacks - the unpredictable interviews he loathes, the constant fan interactions.

None, however, have ever felt this paralyzing.

His heart pounds frantically in his ears as your dad gives him a thorough once-over. It's narrows on his chest, lingers on his arms. He’s confused at the interest of his body, then his confusion morphs into a sickening realization.

He’s fucking shirtless.

"Fuck," He mutters under his breath.

Your dad's eyebrows shoot up. He eyes your boyfriend as if he just declared his love for a rival sports team.

"Excuse me, son?" Dominic winces. A cold sweat prickles his skin. He flinches back and yanks his outstretched hand like he’s been burned. He throws a desperate glance at your mom, silently begging for her help.

She's been quiet the whole time. But when she meets Dominic's eyes, a small smile graces her lips. She rests a calming hand on your dad's shoulder.

"Why don't you go freshen up," She suggests, voice soft. "Maybe put on a shirt, and then we’ll go from there.”

Dominic nods vigorously.

"Yes ma’am of course, good call. So so sorry." He practically sprints towards your room, throwing another mumbled apology over his shoulder.

"Did you see the face tats? The Xs on his eyelids? That damn eyebrow piercing?" He hears your dad whisper yell to your mom.

Dominic closes your bedroom door shut, finally allowing himself to exhale the breath he didn't know he was holding.

He leans against the door, head tilted back in defeat, when another horrifying thought hits him.

It's laundry day.

And before you left, you'd tossed the first load in the washer. The load that, of course, included all the clothes he's left at your place. The hoodie he gave you before you left was the last clean thing he had.

"This can't be happening," He whispers, dragging a hand down his face. He stumbles over to the closet and flicks on the light. Panic clouds his judgment. Scanning your clothes, he snatches the first thing he sees folded on the top shelf.

Your baby pink sweatshirt.

He's just pulling it on when he hears the front door open again. Your voice, laced with slight urgency, filters through.

He lets out a deep breath, not bothering to check his reflection, and jogs out of the room.

He rounds the corner and sees you. Relief washes over him, momentarily melting his anxiety. You turn from your parents at the sound of his footsteps, about to launch into an apology, but the words die on your lips.

The moment he's close enough, Dominic practically throws himself at you, burying his face in your neck. He doesn't care that your parents are watching. He was just short of possibly passing out, and all he craves is the comfort you always seem to radiate.

You understand instantly, and glare at your parents over his shoulder.

Your arms tighten around Dominic's lower back as you stroke his hair with a comforting hand. You feel him relax against you, and turn your face to plant a soft kiss on his head.

"You okay?" You murmur against his hair.

Dominic manages a small nod, but he doesn't stay wrapped in you for as long as he'd like. Steeling himself, for the umpteenth time today, he straightens up, and faces your parents.

With a newfound confidence blooming in his chest with you by his side, he clears his throat.

“I really apologize for earlier. I wasn’t expecting to meet you both so soon.” He reaches out for your hand. His voice holds a hint of nervousness, but he sounds sure of himself now.

“I love your daughter very much and go above and beyond to make sure she knows that.” He continues, his gaze flickers between your parents. "I hope in time you both will see that."

You beam with pride at your boyfriend's attempt to win over your folks. Your dad, however, remains unconvinced, a furrow etched between his brows. Your mom, on the other hand, wears a blinding smile.

An awkward silence stretches, punctuated only by the rhythmic ticking of a wall clock. Finally, your mom swats the back of your dad's head. He yelps, bewildered, before his eyes dart between you and your mom. Throwing his hands up, he finally speaks up,

"There’s still much to unpack here. And frankly, those tats and piercings are ridiculous." Dominic shrugs and nods - rubbing the back of his neck.

"But," Your dad breathes, a hint of a begrudging smile playing on his lips, "You seem to have won my daughter over. And since she's basically a carbon copy of me, I trust her judgment."

You and your mom roll your eyes.

Your dad’s eyes then drop to Dominic's sweatshirt. His right eyebrow shoots up as he grumbles something under his breath, then shakes his head in defeat before stalking off towards the kitchen.

You glance down at your boyfriends long sleeve, your eyes widening in realization. Your hand flys to cover your mouth.

Your mom watches your dad go, a hint of amusement in her eyes. She then turns to Dominic, a warm smile still gracing her lips.

"Welcome to the family, hun," She says, squeezing his arm. The gesture sends pure relief through him. He manages to smile back.

"Thank you," He squeezes her hand back, voice genuine. "Happy to be here."

Your mom nods curtly and follows after your dad into the kitchen. The moment she's out of earshot, you drop your hand and let out a loud, unrestrained laugh. Dominic gives you a look, assuming it was fueled by his earlier distress.

"Maybe pay a little more attention next time you raid my closet," You wheeze, doubling over as you lean on his shoulder for support.

That's when it hits him. He remembers your dad's gaze at his shirt. He looks down in haste.

Stitched in bright pink threading and surrounded by a ridiculous amount of hearts and sparkles were the words: "FIKE'S BABYDOLL."

"Oh come the fuck on," He groans.

What the hell even was this last hour.

He glances down at you, now sprawled on the floor, tears wetting your face from laughter. The sound is infectious, and before he can help it, a smile spreads across his face.

“Yeah okay, did you get the tomato paste atleast?”

You stop laughing.

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sanarkeo · 2 months

Text

your body’s speaking my language

chaeyoung has a bit of a god complex and lights up some candles for valentine’s day.

alternatively: she grants you freedom in the form of a restraint. dom!chaeyoung x f!10th member of twice!reader - wax play - praise & degradation - bondage - exhibitionism (again, yes! 😇) - edging - branding sorta kinda - chae with the strap in a tokyo love hotel - religious themes - this reaching 5k words ouuu...

happy belated valentines day to @nr1chaedickrider and every other chaeyoung lover out there <3

chaeyoung doesn’t know this, but you have frequent dreams of the same exact scene. the most recent, hazy permutation had you looking through stained glass cut to no holy figure, and onto yourself kowtowing to a woman in the church you haven’t visited in ages. your perspective shifts midway, and your breath is stolen from your lungs the moment you lay eyes on her.

and it is corporeal, the sting of scraped knees against herringbone floor, flowing white rayon restricting skin meant to be bare. it is divine, to look up upon her, sitting cross-legged on a pew, a smile that reaches her eyes and the baring of canines, multicolor light reflecting off them like jewels.

this is beauty reserved for sightings and yet here she is. her touch is salvation and her lips pressed against your forehead is resurrection. at last, she is encircled by blinding sunlight, the deep brown of her eyes being the last to fade to white.

what chaeyoung does know is that once in a while, in the middle of the night, you’re heaving, hands anxious for something to hold onto, eyelids screwed shut. and she brings you into her embrace, more often than not subconsciously, and mutters sounds, her hot breath tickling the tips of your ears.

when you are awake enough to grasp what’s happening, and grieve the dream that’s slipped away, sometimes you weep. that someone like her is real and has her arm draped over your hip. it breaks you.

it half-explains why you squat down as you hand the girl - now tucking sunglasses into her seat-back pocket - your underwear in an airsickness bag. chaeyoung receives it in her expectant hands and leisurely opens her purse to slot the folded bag in. she’s still for a second, looking at you like she has something to say, the corners of her mouth twitching slightly.

instead, she slides forward in her seat and tilts her head to give you a kiss. as she pulls away, you can see the reflection of the plane window in her irises. you take in how the oranges and blues courtesy of the altitude shade her tattoos.

“sit down, babe,” she says with a knowing glance, before taking her phone out and swiping through notifications.

even if everyone else can’t see, you feel your nudity under loose cream trousers. shuffling back to your seat, you have half a mind to cover yourself with a blanket and satisfy yourself. you recline and jerk in your seat, if anything to get some friction going. chaeyoung notices this in her periphery and holds your wrist, her pointer tapping on the back of your hand with a calculated rhythm.

“okay,” you squeak, and it sounds like an apology.

“I got a surprise for you when we reach shinjuku. you can wait a bit longer, right?" chaeyoung asks, raising an eyebrow. you nod and she hums. “thank you. you’re being so good for me today.”

you smile, giddy at the praise, and scratch your reddening cheek. it’s like she’s put you in a trance ever since she knocked twice and slid open the privacy screen to regard you with a shaded expression and a singular request. it’d all been automatic; from when you unbuckled your seatbelt to leave for the lavatory to when you stumbled just trying to get your panties off as quickly as possible, not a single hesitation kept you from flowing from one action to the next.

“is this… for valentine’s day?”

chaeyoung taps her nose but pulls her headphones out to shut you up. you’d known something was up when the girl became dismissive every time you brought up valentine’s day, and more so when she messaged about tickets to haneda for you two to arrive in japan a few days before the group was even scheduled to be there.

as soon as the seatbelt sign lights up, chaeyoung grips your forearm and lets out a light whimper. after the plane lands safely on the runway, and as the people around you two rush to get their carry-ons, chaeyoung slides her fingers down your arm to intertwine them in yours. she brings your hand up and leaves lipstick on your knuckles.

she’s a bit of a scaredy cat on airplanes but when she takes your hand and leads you to the cab, a swarm of fans and flashing lights trailing behind you, you follow without a word.

the music is so loud you sense the bassline thump through your chest, and as the saxophone screams you feel your fingertips buzz against the condensation of your highball glass. you’ve always wanted to come here - a charming little bar in a basement rumored to have been a brothel decades ago. a post-industrial but amber-lit haven for live music. the kind of crowd who won’t care who either of you are, with their swaying silhouettes and muffled conversations drowning under free jazz. chaeyoung and you are caught in the middle of their current with a perfect sliver of privacy.

“how’d you know about this place?” you swirl your glass around before taking one last gulp of the cocktail. ice pressed up on teeth sends a shock through your gums.

“i’d be a terrible girlfriend if i forgot about you mentioning this.”

you shake your head: “no that was ages ago, like, even before-“

“so? you know i’ve been fucking obsessed with you ever since our debut.”

you dig up a blurry memory of legs crossed on a cramped dorm bedroom floor, the scent of nail polish and a commotion of giggles and joke-threats, and remember how hard your heart pounded opening up to girls older than you about something so niche and uninteresting. it isn’t the sound of her that you can recall - it’s a vignette of a set of plump lips with a mole set under it, a little to the side, mouthing: “i’d like to go there too.”

the pianist’s solo is sprightly and with every note that blooms, a sense of anticipation grows in you. you look across the checkerboard table, past wine red pillar candles, and find chaeyoung’s unwavering focus on you. with each tap of her thumb on a cheek bathed in plum-colored light, the ivies snaking her silver ring twinkle. the music shifts with the reintroduction of smoky cymbals and a staccato rhythm.

it’s not that chaeyoung looks incredibly different now, nearly a decade on. her unbleached, jet black hair and doe eyes let you easily picture the girl you sometimes saw as a trainee, walking past you in the corridor or being aspirationally whispered about with friends. but when your eyes flitter down to her lips, you decide the shape of them has changed together with the entire idea of the woman, somewhere along the way.

for so many years you’ve only observed them. they were full and pinkish and a dimple forms right by them whenever she smiles. at one point, you used to envy her, innocently thinking about how unfair it was that fans could fall in love through a single laugh. one night many years back, as you watched the reflections of the night in the han river, you played with the idea that your heart could be hers too, if only in another universe. any bitterness leaves your palate when she leans over and closes her eyes.

you love her new lipgloss. it’s slippery and tastes like summer berries.

your shoulders heave now, and all these new associations now cross your mind. how warm her lips felt pressed onto the side of your head while you bawled in her arms, fearing the unknown and yet fearing knowing. how orange they looked under the sunset that summer she brought you to her relative’s farmhouse, so telling of their experience after she’d convinced you that maybe kissing wasn’t all that bad if you didn’t kiss men (and kissed her instead).

you’re distracted by how they form an ‘o’ as chaeyoung lifts a candle off the table and blows it out. a trail of smoke is sucked into the air and dissipates above her head. you remember the heat radiating from her mouth when she licked the tears that streamed down your face after the first time she made you cum. you recall how aggressively red and swollen they can get, with the image of her biting down on a leather whip after she’d marked your skin for an achingly long period of time.

she swirls the hot wax in the indent for a while then seizes your wrist, her thumb heavy on your pulse point. she flips your arm and drips molten red along the back of your hand. her teeth look severe in this bluish light. there’s a fire behind her eyes. you yelp and jerk to snatch your hand back, but she doesn’t relent, shushing you and immediately dropping the candle, letting it rock to a halt. a couple pairs of eyes shift to look in your direction.

“chae…” you let out, and wonder if it sounds more like a cry or a moan.

“oops.”

chaeyoung gingerly picks off each matte bead and flicks them over at her neglected bottle. there’s the lightest dotted line of discoloration that she slides her lips across when she holds your hand up. it stings even more now, and your tongue gets lodged in your throat. closing your eyes, you silently mourn the loss of all that sensitivity you had on the ride to the hotel. you regret being so sensible when she led you to the restroom of the hotel lobby, and let you know you had her permission to put your underwear back on.

“i hope you’re not already dripping wet from that,” she says, cleaning her fingertips with a napkin and turning to grab her coat.

you wonder if she gets off on making you feel so insanely aware of your arousal. you don’t think you’re wet, but you’re pressing your thighs together and gripping at the fabric of your pants.

“i’m not.”

chaeyoung gets up off the stool and slips into her navy blue trench coat that’s a size or two too big. she raises her eyebrows at you and knees the chair back in.

“whatever you say, babe,” she murmurs, her voice low and husky.

she shrugs and burns you with a stare before turning on her heels to leave. you scramble to get your jacket on, nearly forgetting your clutch as you rush to follow her up the stairs. the music diminishes behind you and you strain your neck to find familiarity in her, but you’re greeted by a kaleidoscope of colors and lovesick couples letting loose in the streets. her small frame and stature make it all too easy for her to be lost in a crowd. the air hangs thick as you journey down the maze of bars and restaurants and you curse yourself for not paying enough attention in those japanese lessons.

then, you spot her, twirls of hair softening the sharp, piercing lines of her face. as soon as you pause to take a breath, chaeyoung’s fingers close around your wrist and she wrenches you into movement. she navigates and guides you through alleys with her hallmark assuredness. once you reach a dead end, she slows and turns to you. between shuttered shops, standing on the prismatic sheen of damp asphalt, she lets you go. her skin is porcelain under the light from a distant streetlamp and the depth of her eyes, now cinnamon brown, remind you of the first time you confessed to her.

it’s like she senses your wonder, because she takes you by the waist and pushes you against the concrete brick wall. your heels scrape along the road and droplets of water hit your ankles. chaeyoung’s angling her chin up, her eyes gazing down upon you like you’re nothing to her light. she unzips your jacket and pushes up your top and your bra. your hardened nipples hit the cold air and the breeze that settles on your skin causes the hair on your back to stand on end. she scans your body, choosing to pay no mind to your tits, nor to your wanting mouth.

you look to her, eyelids trembling, and state the obvious: “chaeng, someone’s gonna see us.”

“who cares? i’m having you wherever i want you,” she snaps and rolls her eyes.

she slides her hand into your pants, her touch slightly clumsy, her fingertips cold against the dip of your hip. then, she parts your legs and presses onto a particularly sensitive spot on your inner thigh. the pad of chaeyoung’s thumb grazes against the slightest series of bumps in your skin and you swear you can picture it from candid photos and images framed in mirrors. it’s visceral, the memory of the searing pain of needles punching into your skin, injecting ink into you for good.

chaeyoung is softer, gentler now than she was then. for one, her nails aren’t sinking into your other thigh like claws into prey. you remember the crazed expression locked in her eyes when she grit her teeth and drove the tattoo machine to trace the outline of a strawberry you’d drawn on a transfer sheet. you were glad the alcohol worked as a mild anesthetic when it happened but it made you bend over a toilet bowl that night when the post-adrenaline fear and pain hit and you puked your guts out.

“you’re mine, remember? anywhere, everywhere-”

you can’t stand the distance between her hand and your cunt, so when fingers reach your clit, a raspy sigh leaves your lips. she massages it with perfect pressure before sliding a finger along your folds, lowering it momentarily into your slit.

“you’re right. you’re not wet enough,” she tugs her hand out of your pants and brings it up to spit on her fingers. you’re not capable of coherent thought right now, any witty response will come out as a series of stammers. her hand disappears again and two slick fingers plunge into your hole.

“f-fuck, oh my god,” you whine.

her tongue slips out between her teeth the same way it does when she’s focused on writing lyrics. she’s said that every song she’d written had been about you and you believe her by the way she hits and presses against every sob-inducing stretch of your walls. even with her slow thrusts, your moans get so loud you’re worried someone might hear.

“you feel so good, so, so good in me a-ah fuck!”

“you’re so fucking cute.” she squeals at the little whimpers that escape your mouth. you start panting and she tips her head, licking and sucking on your tongue. “yeah? is my perfect girl drooling for me?”

she quickens her pace and absolutely buries her digits in you and you groan, throwing your head back at how she fills you. but in the midst of this impatient intimacy, footsteps, a group of them, echo in the background, coming closer to both of you. removing her hand from your cheek, chaeyoung grabs the lapel of her coat and conceals your body. with a sharp turn of her head, a narrowed gaze dissects the scene behind her.

“salarymen,” she huffed, pivoting to lock eyes with you again. “they’re all drunk as shit, they won’t remember this.”

you don’t know if it’s the cold or how magical it feels to have chaeyoung’s fingers fill your pussy once more, but you’re delirious and the thought of strangers seeing chaeyoung fuck you senseless in a grimy alleyway drives you wild. you buck into her fingers and her cold ring stings against your clit.

“i’m gonna- i’m-”

“oh you’re cumming soon?” she nods and moves closer, her nose pressed on your cheek, her breath hot on your neck. “my sweetness is cumming soon?”

“chae!” you go off on a succession of curses, each word laced with disbelief as she pulls her fingers out of you. you dig your nails into her shoulders and try to shake her, but she pushes her shoulders hard up against you. she licks your juices off her fingers, savors the taste of it, and you watch her swallow, the eye contact constant and unnerving. your lip quivers and you shield your face with your hands, head still reeling over your denied orgasm.

“still not wet?” she chuckles and pulls out her phone to snap a picture of you, reddened cheeks and messy hair, your tits still exposed. the flash blinds you more than it should.

“public whore.”

“tmi? i had udon tonight~”

being an idol necessitates acting. you hadn’t expected this part of the gig when you’d first auditioned as this naive, bumbling thing, but found repressing emotions and shelling out little white lies as second nature to you. news sites and forums brand you as polite, nearly to a fault, not knowing how much practice you’ve gotten suppressing any negativity. but keeping quiet at family dinners and forcing high-pitched laughter on tv shows chips away at you. feigning obedience in a sea of believers, arms constricted in periwinkle sleeves, ground you down to a paste.

“no, no, i can’t give any spoilers for the next comeback,” you huff, pouting for the camera.

this - nonchalantly responding to comments and recounting a day that never happened as a bullet vibe hums in your hole - feels nothing like that. it’s a show you’re putting on with your favorite audience and favorite performer. and she stares you down from the other side of the hotel room as she adjusts the straps of her bra. the blood red floral lace of her two-piece complements the expanse of watercolors and scribbles etched into her body. you swapped imagining sheep for counting tattoos in the dim of the night when she’s passed out right beside you.

chaeyoung is delicate and rough and terrene. but you’re looking at her too intently and she clicks her tongue, picking up her phone to drag a slider button a little to the right. the vibrations ramp up and you start to sway back and forth. you feel yourself leaking even more now into the blanket that’s covering your bare legs.

“a-ah- it’s getting quite late now…” you’re fumbling with your phone, tapping the back of it to mask the muffled but noticeably louder buzzing. “maybe i should go to bed?” your eyes dart to chaeyoung and she blinks at you, unfazed. the golden glow emanating from floor lamps and tapered candles light her hauntingly. her apparition is breathtaking and distracting and your finger hovers over the x on your screen because the need to kneel before her now is painful.

“what? don’t go, we’ll miss you?” you giggle at the message but you feel this tension build inside. and your walls clench around this tiny little thing buried shallow in you, the slightest movement away from coming out covered in your juices. you wonder if anyone can tell how hot and bothered you are, or if they knew you only had a shirt on.

you purse your lips and feel your heart swell just seeing her folding her clothes and dropping the pile into a suitcase on the floor. you didn’t even know how that got there. she whips her head up to look at you, her countenance still inscrutable.

“i’m sorry, i h-have to,” you apologize, half to your fans, half to chaeyoung. you adjust your position, the vibrations now reaching your clit. “i have to go.”

there’s always an element of suspense that builds in you whenever chaeyoung controls you like this. it makes you want to keel over when there’s too much of anything going on around you. you felt understood as soon as you stepped into this unassuming building and saw how plain and normal the room looked, sans a pale yellow carry-on and a st. andrews cross.

“don’t worry baby, we’ll get to that later,” she had said just after walking in, looking over her shoulder as she plopped onto the pristine bed. thinking about that now, you squirm.

they can’t understand. you suppose no one can get your relationship til they’re changed by her the way you have been. her words are apocalypse and you’d waited your whole life to bear witness to someone who can make you sober. how she slapped sense into you the same day you turned twenty, and how for the first time in a long time, in that same pitch black room, you let yourself be attracted to another girl.

they can’t speak to the rush you got when you first gave her a peck on the cheek in public, can’t describe how you felt when she brought you to a park just before it closed to kiss you under towering oaks. won’t know the cramps you got from laughing too hard after they’d chased you out. they don’t know this isn’t your first time in a love hotel, can’t guess the number of times you’ve had to hide marks and bruises from everyone else.

it’s paradoxical, how you find freedom and safety in her, but son chaeyoung’s a kind of contradiction. she’s frustrating yet patient, got a line of carrots tattooed when she was high but planned all year to get this amphibious monster cradled in a bed of spikes on her back. all you can ever be certain of is her care for you. she adores you to no end and it’s suffocating, the way she looks at you like you’re her love of the century.

a notification pops up at the top of your screen - a message from your manager: “you don’t look well - are you okay? you should end the call before anyone gets worried.”

“i’ve been lacking a bit of sleep recently so i’ll rest well now,” you reassure your viewers. “please don’t miss me too much? you can see all of us at the yokohama stadium in a few days.” a flurry of hearts and well wishes come in from the bottom of your screen and you wave at the camera before blowing a kiss.

“bye everyone!”

after ending the live broadcast, you hurry to text your manager back, reminding her that next time you’ll give her more notice in advance of the lives, and yes, chaeyoung will take care of you because you’re definitely catching something. you look warm. your cheeks are flushed. of course you’re running a temperature, what else could it be? chaeyoung saunters to you, taking your phone and setting it down on the dresser.

“you weren’t supposed to end it so soon. i barely even got started,” she rests a heavy hand on your shoulder and exhales. she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. the air that enters your lungs doesn’t have enough time to stay in there before it’s expelled. you hear the buzzing as loud as you hear her. you’re so close.

“take off your shirt, go to the bed and spread your legs.”

“yes, chae.”

as you shuffle there, you feel your wetness between your thighs. you dispose of your top near the foot of the bed, get on and present yourself to her. she’s just standing there, back straight, arms to her sides, but it’s eerie and intimidating. there’s something animalistic in her eyes whenever she asks to observe you like this. her sight shifts between watching as the vibrator slowly slides out of you, and searing eye contact. your legs tense and you arch your back, the thought of chaeyoung making you cum without even touching you driving you so close to the edge.

“it’s too early,” she grumbles, and takes a step to pull the vibrator out of you. the slightest, plainly intentional brush of her fingertips against your clit makes the loss more unbearable. “i think my favorite girl deserves a present first.”

while chaeyoung switches it off, you bring your knees up to your chest and shudder. whimpering, you peek over at your girlfriend and find her gaze following the glistening trail of your fluids as they traverse sluggishly down her forearm. you shut your eyes for a bit, letting your heart rate slow but soon feel her weight dip into the side of the bed. chaeyoung combs through your hair and massages your temples while she pushes something matte against your arm. when you finally open your eyes again, you find a pastel pink box sitting beside you.

“open it, princess. it’s for you.”

the heat in your lap settles and you sniffle, tossing the crushed velvet ribbon aside to reveal a leather restraint. it is supple yet sturdy in your hands. just seeing your name embossed in gold on burgundy hide makes you light-headed. chaeyoung takes the restraint from your trembling hands and cocks her head up, wordlessly ordering you to stand. you rise to your feet with a practiced efficiency, turning around to face the only mirror in the room head-on.

“my baby. you belong to me.” with the restraint in one hand, she fondles your breasts and buries her face into your neck. the leather scrapes your nipples and you let out a prolonged moan. “look at how much of a slut you are. you just want to be fucked, don’t you? controlled, like a doll.”

“i do.”

chaeyoung slips the collar around your neck and fastens it, the buckle resting a bit too snug. she tugs at the strip of leather connected to it, just to get a yelp out of you. your arms slide through pliable loops, followed by your wrists. and at last, she has you with your hands secured behind your back in an impossible grip, any struggle to set yourself free choking you at the same time.

“my prettiest pet.” hooking a finger into the d-ring of your collar, chaeyoung drags you down to the ground then holds your head up. “you’re gonna be a good cum slut for me now, okay?”

a nervous giggle escapes your mouth and your mind races, eyes searching for some clue in the room. your lips naturally fall to a pout and raise your hand to settle it on her arm, your thumb rubbing into the constellation on her wrist.

“kneel.”

you nod, shoulders slumped, and adjust your weight to settle onto your knees. chaeyoung beams and rips her arm from you to collect a lit candle from the dresser. her rouge pink eyeshadow shimmers when she’s towering over you like this, the flickering light casting dancing shadows along her jawline.

“open your mouth.”

she cups your chin in her hand and you can hear her getting choked up. the flame grows longer, burns more brightly, and you can just about peer over to see a pool of translucent white wax surrounding it.

“stick your tongue out.”

you extend your tongue and start to pant. your eyes flutter close when you see chaeyoung dip the candle down and cry out as you feel the first bead of wax land on your chest. she pours the wax indiscriminately over your torso, pinpricks of fire sparking goosebumps all over you, leaving uneven streaks and blobs of cream-white coating your tits and abs. you have this itch to get the wax off your nipples, but your hands are useless. it isn’t as hot as it’d been at the bar, but it singes and the heat spreads to your shoulders and down to your stomach.

“i’ve always wished i could cum all over you like this,” she coos. through half-lidded eyes, the lamp light forms a halo around her. “wish i could make you walk the streets and let everyone know you’re taken.”

“i’m all yours, chaeng.”

chaeyoung tilts her head and smirks as her fingers crawl into your mouth to pry it open. you feel her knuckles and joints against your teeth and gums, her nails digging into your cheek. your tongue wraps around her pointer and laps at it.

“you want that so fucking bad don’t you? want to look so filthy for me?” her lips slowly curling into a smile, chaeyoung drizzles the hot wax over your cheeks, scorching your neck and your collarbones as they drip down.

“fuck.”

to her, you look holy, defenseless, ruined. a waterfall of soy wax cooling and cracking on your skin. her favorite canvas in the world biting her lip at the stinging and tightness that constricts her chest. chaeyoung snaps out of her daze and blows the flame out.

“get back on the bed. face down, ass up.”

you hang your head low and fall onto the bed, no arms to brace your landing. with your chin digging into the pillow, you ram your knees into the mattress, forcing yourself up into chaeyoung’s favorite position. deep inhales and the lengthening of your spine keeps you sane waiting for her to get it over with and just fuck you. with your other lovers, this was your time to mentally prepare yourself and dissociate. with your exes, you’d lay still and draw imaginary circles on the ceiling as they entered you. with chaeyoung, every beat that her hands are off you is downright misery.

“you just love taking time, don't you?” you snicker and score the material of your restraints with a nail.

and suddenly your field of view is replaced by the darkness under a silky cloth, and a knot is tightened at the back of your head. you feel chaeyoung running her fingers through your hair before taking a fistful of it and jerking your head back.

“trust me you’re gonna need time to prepare yourself” she jokes, slamming your head back down into the pillow.

the sound of straps being tightened and the clearing of a throat makes the blindfold more of a punishment. in your head, you’re going through all the toys chaeyoung keeps in that box under her bed. the bed creaks as she climbs on and you feel the bones of her knees hitting your calves. a hand wet from lube lands on your ass with a smack, the other guides the head of the toy to the entrance of your puffy, wet pussy.

“did you get this wet from all the cum i gave you?”

chaeyoung licks her upper lip as she holds the base of the toy, stroking your clit to your hole with its tip then slapping it against your cunt. you want to fold just from the sheer weight of it. she grabs hold of your waist and slides the entire length of it into you. you know you’ve never been stretched like this and you let a yell out in satisfaction. chaeyoung stills in you, letting you get used to its girth, how full it makes you feel, not knowing that you probably never will. she leans forward and presses her forehead onto your back.

“take my strap, you fucking whore.”

it’s carnal, ferocious, how she begins to thrust into you, all eight inches pumping in and out of your pussy. you suck air in through clenched teeth and sink your cheek deeper as your mind grows foggy. without fingers to grasp onto the bed sheets, you grip them between your molars and bite down hard.

“rghhh- fuck!”

whenever chaeyoung bottoms out in you, her fingers inch closer to youri stomach. she pushes down on your belly to feel the shape of the toy form then vanish, her grip getting even more possessive.

“taking me so well.” she whines looking down at the base of the toy coated in your white slick. “so tight and creamy around me-”

it pains you to not see her as her toned abs flex with each thrust, not watch her intense gaze fizzle out and be replaced with something much more tender.

“i need you,” you plead, but it’s muffled by the fabric.

chaeyoung pounds into you harder and deeper, and she abandons your waist to cling onto your restraint. as the friction builds and your yelps grow louder, she reins you in and pulls out to spit on the toy. then she slams it back into you and you cry out in pleasure.

“oh my god, i f-fucking need you!”

as you near your climax, every part of your body is pushed to hypersensitivity. the wax that peeled off your nipples rub against the sore buds every time she penetrates you. chaeyoung pins you down with her weight, the lace and heat of her chest melting into you, making your shoulder blades ache. your clit throbs and the walls of your cunt clamp around her strap. you swear it’s getting bigger, like it’s growing within you.

“cum now,” she growls.

chaeyoung drives down into you, fucking you into oblivion, when you feel a gush of ecastasy take over you. you spasm around her strap, milking it with your pussy, until she pulls out, making you fall back onto the bed. your thighs quiver and your toes curl while you flood the blindfold with tears. the aftershocks of it make your head spin and you whimper when you feel your girlfriend get off the bed.

she pulls the cloth off your head and laughs at your bloodshot eyes. your eyes fall to the dildo right in front of you, and the sticky mess you made on it dripping down to the floor. seeing you take deep breaths and your drooping eyelids, chaeyoung holds you by your collar and awakens you with a slap.

“not even close to being done with you, babe.”

a fire reignites in chaeyoung’s eyes. she leads you to the cross and rushes to free your wrists from the restraint, letting the bulk of the leather hang from your neck. your wrists, now an angry red from the senseless fight you put up, taste freedom for not a second before they’re hoisted above you head and locked onto each corner of the cross.

“i can’t do this…” your muscles scream with the memory of strain and you cry out as chaeyoung backs away from you to rest her legs on an armchair. “chaeng!”

slowly, her hands reach behind her back and she unclasps her bra, revealing her tits to you. arching her back, she slides her panties down and discards both articles to the side with mild annoyance.

“look pretty for me.” she spreads her legs, letting each one dangle over the sides of the armchair. as one hand reaches out for your phone on the nearby dresser, the other snakes down her abs to arrive at her clit. chaeyoung swipes to the camera and positions it to snap another picture of you, hung on a cross. the flash blinds you less than it did before.

“like you always do.”

so i realized i got 600 notes on my first fic which is kinda crazy... thank yall so much 😭😭

#wlw #sapphic #lesbian #twice smut #chaeyoung smut #chaeyoung x reader #twice chaeyoung #chaeyoung x reader smut #twice x reader smut #twice x reader #chaeyoung imagines #twice imagines #valentines day #but make it late

236 notes · View notes

satoruly · 3 months

Text

no matter what you say or what you do

the sweet normalcy right after a routine encounter. an implicit confession the two of you may not be ready to address.

tags&warnings. MDNI, drabble, implied fwb, suggestive, hints of sub!satoru bc it's what he deserves.

psa. i was so tempted to make this a pinning long shot, yall let me know what u think! mdni banner by @/cafekitsune

“when i’m alone i’d rather be with you.”

You washed your hands while he rambled on and on as his heartbeat settled down back to its normal rhythm. He had cemented himself in the middle of the bed, staying put right where you had rolled off him as he caught his breath. The puffs leaving his lips were a reminder of the breathy whimpers he let out when he was close.

The thought made you shudder, a small smirk on your face as you recalled your previous endeavours. His voice saturated with cheeriness was so unlike his desperate pleas — please, I need to be inside you, please — and needy moans. Not that you were complaining. You loved listening to him talk. The juxtaposition was funny though. The duality of this man only made him more lovable.

He was still talking even when you came back, rambling about his adventures with Shoko and Suguru while you were locked in the library finishing a paper. The rising and falling of his chest now even, it was a no-brainer for you to lay your head right on top of him, letting his arm wrap itself around your shoulders and pull you closer.

His skin was warm against your cheek, and though you preferred to be the one embracing him, being able to be up close enough to hear the thumping of his heart going up in speed was always worth it.

“And then Suguru had to buy me a coffee because he lost the bet!” He all but giggled, either happy at his friend’s misery or happy to have gotten a triple caramel frappe with extra whipped cream and sprinkles. You could never know.

“It was about time you won one of those.” You teased, chuckling as he made a sound of complaint followed by a lazy yawn. He pulled you closer and naturally, you let your leg rest over his abdomen.

He had changed into the pair of briefs you had tossed at him after cleaning him up, kissing his nose before heading to the bathroom to fix yourself up.

It had become a bit of a routine by now. After a stressful day, night or whichever excuse any of you could find, the two of you would get together to participate in what you branded as a ‘healthy coping mechanism’. One that 9 out of 10 orthodontists would recommend, but would be discredited by any decent therapist that gathered how the lines between platonic and the antonym of platonic were starting to blur.

“You’re always so mean to me.” He whined, nuzzling his cheek on top of your head as you chuckled, fingers tracing indistinguishable patterns on the planes of your shoulder blades. He sucked in a breath before mumbling an argument in his favour, seeing as you had found his statement anything but serious. “Like, you edged me eight times tonight.”

“Because you like it!”

“It’s still mean!”

Touche. It wasn’t the best defence he could’ve come up with but your laugh was contagious. It made him forget about his cheeks, now redder than ever, and indulge in your warmth against him.

If it was up to him, he would stay like this all day.

“You're a bad stress reliever.”

Letting his hand roam down your spine as his words kissed your ears, he hooked his pointer finger around the band of your underwear, pulling on the elastic and letting go, making you yelp in surprise.

He giggled at your reaction. Also at his own antics. No matter how many times he did it, you were always caught by surprise. He was sneaky at all times. When you weren’t expecting it, the prickling of the cloth against your skin, but also when you were expecting him to do something.

Still, though you shivered in response, a poorly hidden mischievous grin always grazed your lips in return

“You wouldn’t survive a day without me.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he sighed in utter bliss. With you next to him, your skin on his skin. He liked to think that if it were up to you, you’d choose to stay like this too. “I wouldn’t.”

#🍒 — from the vault #🍒 — jjk's version #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jujuts kaisen x reader

177 notes · View notes

loveronlineee · 2 years

Text

The Freak and the Freakette (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Masterlist

Eddie Munson x Reader (She/Her)

Warnings: Swearing, a little violence?

Synopsis: As Y/N explores her new found love for metal, her friendship with Eddie grows. But after an altercation with Jason, the two are branded with a label that’ll band them together forever

Y/N notes: none

Heyo Willow here! This is a mix of three requests I got from @noa-keselman , @reasontobebeautiful and an anon. I took elements from all and put ‘em together so I hope that’s okay guys!

Wanna be on the Eddie Munson tag list? Look here!

Wanna request something? Look here!

Y/N walked into the lunch hall like she did every day and grabbed a tray. Joining the line of other students, she looked around. Everyone was at their usual tables. Jocks, band kids, party people…

Y/N didn’t really fit into a click. She got along with almost everyone on a certain level, but not enough to be labeled as one of them. Although more recently, people who used to be friendly to her were starting to avoid her.

Y/N knew why. Every week she seemed to look more and more like the resident freak, Eddie Munson. She had a couple classes with him and they had gotten to know each other a little. Y/N had never met a metal head before, and she didn’t realise until Eddie that she was quite a fan of the look.

It started small, buying a pair of ripped blue jeans. Adding a chain and some jewellery. Then it was the leather jacket. The amount of black items in her wardrobe continued to increase.

She’ll never forget the look on the cheerleader’s face when she asked Y/N what she was listening to on her Walkman and she replied with Black Sabbath.

Not that Y/N really cared. She was just happy to be finding things she liked.

She got got her lunch and began walking towards the tables. Y/N knew the usual empty spots well. The people with smaller friend groups never mind if she sat at their table with them. Heading towards an empty spot, she suddenly felt a presence on her right. She didn’t even need to look up to know who it was.

“Hello Eddie.”

“Hey Y/N I couldn’t help but notice…” The metal head began, moving his arms around. “…this week’s change in your appearance.”

“Yes?” Y/N said, already knowing where this was going. She sat down at the end of a table, Eddie sitting down opposite her.

He leant on his elbows, his two pointer fingers over his lips. He leaned his arms forward, looking at the top of her head.

“Your hair…” He looked back down at Y/N. “It’s looking strangely familiar.” A grin creeped onto his face. Y/N could help the small smile appearing on her own.

“Is it now?” Y/N replied, seeing how long he would stretch this out for.

Y/N had a lot of time for Eddie. He was funny and weird and always completely himself. Like her, he didn’t seem to care about the social hierarchy at school. And he was elated that Y/N seemed to be becoming a metal head like him.

“Yeah it’s like, looking in a funhouse mirror.” Eddie tilted his head comically. Y/N copied him, making him chuckle.

“Oi freak!” Jason stormed over. “Stick to your own goddamn table.” He spat. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and watched the boys interact. She avoided these arguments when she could but today, for whatever reason, Jason was pissing her off more than usual.

“Jason. He’s just sitting here.” Y/N calmly replied.

“Y/N can’t you see he’s freaking out the other students!” Y/N looked around. A couple of student were giving side glances but she couldn’t tell if they were to Eddie, or Jason’s outburst.

“He’s not doing anything, why are you making up problems?” Y/N asked, slightly annoyed.

“Yeah.” Eddie added. “So why don’t you go back to your own table with the meatheads?” He said in a low tone, leaning closer to Jason.

“Oh you’re gonna get it now.” Jason took a step back, hyping himself up. Eddie stood up. The surrounding students were catching on and began to watch. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this one FREAK!”

“Well come on then!” Eddie egged on.

“You think you don’t deserve this?” Jason said, a scarily calm anger about him. “You don’t think I see you doing your weird cult shit every day? I mean look at Y/N. You’ve poisoned her mind. Now we’ve got a freak and a freakette!” Y/N continued to eat her lunch, watching inquisitively. She seemed unaffected by Jason’s comment.

“Don’t talk about Y/N.” Eddie’s joking demeanour shifted into a much more serious one.

“What? You gonna do something about it?” Jason poked.

Y/N finished her lunch, calmly standing up as the boys continued to argue. She picked up her tray and turned it 90 degrees, letting the trash fall to the floor. Before either of the boys could make the first swing, Y/N hit Jason across the face at full force with the piece of plastic.

The boy went flying and room went silent.

“Holy. Shit.” Eddie said to himself.

“L/N! MUNSON!” A teacher screamed across the lunch hall. “PRINCIPALS OFFICE. NOW.” They pointed.

Y/N dropped the tray on the floor and began walking, Eddie following behind her. Everyone watched as they left, Jason’s friends helping him back up. All speechless.

The hallway was empty. The pair could hear their shoes tap and squeak on the floor. As they got further away, Y/N began laughing. Eddie was relieved she was in a good mood but still in shock himself.

“Y/N L/N, where the hell did that come from?” He asked, joining in with her laughter.

“That was SO worth it oh my god-“ Y/N jogged in front of Eddie and began walking backwards. “Did you see his face??”

“Uh did you see EVERYONE’S face???” Eddie 1-upped, leaning forward.

“I mean if I didn’t do it, you would have.”

“Uh no I would not. You think I’m that strong? Jesus H Christ L/N.” He shook his head. Y/N laughed again. She walked back to be beside him.

“So… the freak and the freakette of Hawkins High huh? I kinda like it.” Y/N smiled. Eddie chuckled, putting a hand on Y/N’s shoulder and pulling her a little closer.

“The freak and the freakette.” He repeated.

He kinda liked it too.

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