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dfortrafalgar · 2 days

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I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem. But now, it might as well be a dream come true.

Warnings: read chapter 1 for warnings.

Chapter 31

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“I… I feel like I need to push,” you grunted out.

Your doctor ran to your bedside. “Okay, dear, okay, follow my lead, alright?” She assisted in turning you on your side, adjusting your various tubes to better accommodate your position. “Like we discussed, okay? This position will help reduce the pressure on your pelvis and make it much easier to push.”

You nodded, your expression contorting in a grimace as a much stronger contraction ran through you in waves, lingering in your muscles like radiation. Your hands were curled up by your head, lacking anything to hold on to, so you resorted to fisting the white cotton sheets covering the mattress below you. It felt mildly uncomfortable, but as soon as you were settled, you felt like your muscles were able to work much more effectively. You breathed out a pained sigh, the pressure in your lower abdomen increasing in waves.

“You’re starting to crown already,” another nurse spoke up. “Your body is already so primed for delivery! It’s like you’ve been practicing. If I didn’t know any better, I’d assume this was your third or fourth baby!”

“I’m going to hold your hand, alright?” your doctor asked, confirming with you on what would make you the most comfortable. “How bad is your pain? We can get you started on an epidural.”

“It’s…” As soon as the contraction ceased, another one followed in its place. You were outrageously close. “It’s pretty bad,” you confirmed.

“I’m impressed, when I gave birth to my first, I almost passed out. The pain was so bad!” one of the nurses at the other side of your room called out. “You have quite the tolerance!”

You flashed a weak smile. If only these nurses knew.

Your doctor rubbed your head reassuringly. She really did feel like a mother in her own right. “We’ll start that epidural. Once that’s in place and you’re stable, we’ll begin pushing. Can I get you anything?”

Your eyes wearily glanced up at her calm, reassuring face. “I know it’s a long shot but… can you call my husband?”

—

The second lung was almost fully detached. Over halfway through the surgery now, it had been much faster and more successful than anyone thought it would be. Alongside a few breaks that were taken by the staff to relieve themselves and stretch their backs, sterile orange juice breaks sipped through plastic straws, and brief physical therapy for the unconscious patient to make sure his blood continued to circulate properly and his skin wasn’t damaged, the operation was going very, very smoothly.

And thank goodness. Law needed some good news right now.

Among the beeping sounds of the patient’s heart monitor, the wrrr of the bypass machine, and the soft chatter amongst the team as they worked, a new sound infiltrated the space. In the farthest corner of the room, Law’s hospital pager went off.

“What was that?” one of the nurses asked.

“My pager,” Law responded. His voice was laced with anxiety. He was barely keeping it together, and who knows why his pager might have been going off in the middle of an operation.

The circulating nurse took it upon herself to snatch up the small device, pressing the response button. The best, or arguably worst, thing about the pagers was how loud they were. Everyone could hear the voice that came through the other end.

[Dr. Trafalgar Law? Dr. Trafalgar?] It was a woman’s voice.

“I’m listening,” he shouted back. The nurse stepped slightly closer with the pager in her hand.

[This is Nurse Kaya from Labor & Delivery, your wife is crowning. Just wanted to let you know.]

Spoken far too casually for the news that made Law’s stomach drop like a brick. He was missing the birth.

“FUCK,” he suddenly shouted, his hands still carefully working at the lung’s connective tissue. It was as if his body and his mind were on completely different wavelengths. So much for operating room etiquette. The air in the room had gone completely cold as nervous glances among the team were shared.

“Doctor, I’m not opposed to relieving you with another on-call surgeon. I know this is a huge ordeal, but we’re almost done and… this is a special case,” one of the head nurses spoke up.

He was clearly deliberating heavily in his mind. He wanted to run, carry himself as fast as his feet could handle, and get to your side. He needed to be there with you. He was missing the birth of his first child. A lump developed in his throat. The protective husband side of him had the stoic, focused surgeon side pinned against the wall with a knife to his throat.

“Get the on-call surgeon here immediately and have him gowned and sterilized,” he finally barked, passing his tools off to his assistant and stepping away from the body. A few relieved gasps were shared amongst the team as the circulating nurse brought Law out from the theater and into the prep room where she assisted in frantically undressing him from his surgical scrubs and passing his phone and pager back into his possession. His operating room attire was quickly disposed of in a biohazard waste bin while he quickly washed his hands in the nearby basin.

“Doctor, good luck,” she said with a smile, her eyes crinkling under her mask.

Law could only pass her a faint grin as he shrugged on his white coat, stuffed his phone in the pocket of his slacks, and sprinted out of the prep room. On the way, the on-call surgeon passed by and planted a reassuring smack to Law’s shoulder before replacing him.

Law was breaking every hospital rule there was. Sprinting through the hallway, his feet hammering against the tiled ground as he fought his way through the hospital’s expansive campus, past patient rooms, nurses’ stations, and waiting areas. Why did L&D have to be so far away?! His eyes followed the signs on the walls pointing him in the right direction, his muscle memory leading the way. He scaled two flights of stairs two-at-a-time, the muscles in his legs screaming at him to stop. He was almost positive he would tear a muscle with how fast he was running. But that didn’t matter.

Finally, finally, he pushed through the doors into the maternity ward, flashing his badge frantically at the nurse behind the check-in desk. He was panting, barely able to catch his breath, one of his hands shaking as it supported his weight against the desk.

“My… Trafalgar… where… shit…” he panted, beads of sweat pilling on his forehead below his ragged bangs.

“Down the hall, take a left, then a right,” the nurse instructed, her voice pleasantly calm. She must have seen this a lot.

He barely uttered out a ‘thank you’ before he was off again, pounding down the tiled hallways past delivery and recovery rooms, past the expansive NICU and small groups of families and doctors. He had tunnel vision. He needed to get to you.

Take a left.

Then a right.

He almost sprinted past the door to the delivery room you were in, only backtracking when he caught the pained sound of your voice from within. He flung the door open, nurses surrounding you jumping from shock at the sight.

“Dr. Trafalgar?!” one of them exclaimed, her eyes wide.

Law ignored her.

Your eyes went wide, your hand being held by the doctor who had admitted you. Tears immediately brimmed in the corners of your vision as a pained smile broke out on your face. Law took the spot of your doctor instantly, almost throwing himself at you as he littered your face with kisses, grasping your hand and holding in his pain as you squeezed harshly against his bones, the force of another contraction gripping your body. You were laying on your side, one of your knees tucked upward toward your chest as far as you could manage to allow the baby more room to come out. You had an epidural tube sticking out of your spine, your upper body barely covered by blankets and the open-back hospital gown to accommodate for the birth.

“You made it…” you wheezed, torn between the attention on your husband and the baby coming out of you.

“I couldn’t miss it… I couldn’t…” he wheezed. He was still very winded, his lungs shuddering for breaths. Any longer and he would’ve been the one needing a dual pulmonary transplant.

“Ready for another push?” shouted one of the nurses at your bedside above the noise.

You nodded, biting your lower lip. Your face was glistening with sweat. Your body tensed up, gripping Law’s hand like a lifeline as you pushed, a pained groan emanating from deep within your throat as your eyes pinched shut.

“How is she doing?” demanded Law, gazing at the doctor who took her spot at the end of your bed where your legs were parted.

“She’s doing great, both babies are in cephalic position, her blood pressure is good and her heart rate is even better, it’s unlikely she’ll need emergency intervention. I’m incredibly pleased considering her medical history,” the older doctor explained. “Come over here.”

Law gazed at you, a fond smile on your lips as you released his hand so he could join his extended colleague at the foot of your bed.

“Delivering on her side helps lessen the pressure on her body as well as the baby’s,” the woman explained.

Law’s breath caught in his throat. Emerging from you was a head of fuzzy black hair, slicked with amniotic fluid. One of the nurses called for another push, and your lower body tensed up, your muscles clenching as hard as they could while you pushed the baby out more. Law quickly returned to your side, grasping your hand once more.

“Baby… how are you doing?” he asked, desperate for your personal opinion, his lungs finally settling as he took in your exhausted appearance.

You grimaced. “The epidural has been helping, but it hurt like a bitch going in,” you groaned. “I’ve been having contractions since 2 in the morning. I just want them to be out already.”

“Once the head is delivered, the rest will be easy!” one of the nurses called, a bright smile on her face.

Law felt himself smile as well. Being a delivery nurse must have been incredibly rewarding on the best days. He glanced at the clock on the far wall. It was almost 10 in the evening. His heart panged in his chest.

“You’re doing amazing, baby, you’re amazing,” he whispered in your ear, planting another kiss against the soft, sweat-soaked skin of your forehead.

“One more push, dear!” the doctor called.

Your eyes squeezed shut, your muscles contracting with all your might at the count of the nurses assisting you, your hand clamping down on Law’s. He held in his grimace of pain, supporting you as best he could. Some slight hand bruises were nothing compared to what you were experiencing. How chivalrous of him.

A sudden rushing feeling emanated from your body, a wet sensation prickling your skin through the numbness of the epidural. Your heart rate picked up, your eyes growing wide as you worriedly asked, “What was that?!”

“Your water broke, dear! Everything’s alright!” a nurse responded.

You moaned in pain. “It’s about damn time.” Your grip on Law’s hand released slightly, and you watched as a small smile appeared on his lips.

With one more push, the pressure in your groin finally dissipated somewhat as a nurse pulled your first baby out of you. With the collapse of the amniotic sacs, it was much easier to deliver the rest of its body, much to your relief. As soon as the contractions stopped, however, they began again.

“Keep going, darling, just one more to go!” the doctor called. “It’s right there!”

You barely had the energy to pick your head up to look, and you watched through half-lidded eyes as Law examined the nurses huddled around your baby at the foot of your bed. It was placed in a small portable incubator, being hooked up to machines to assess its condition. 35 weeks was still pretty early, so it made sense. Its umbilical cord was clamped about two minutes after emerging from your womb. Law tried to keep his anxiety repressed as your body shuddered with another contraction.

“The second baby is always easier, darling, you’re already fully dilated from the first,” explained your doctor, giving a reassuring pat to your ankle.

“First baby’s stable!” called one of the nurses. “It’s a girl!”

Law felt his chest clench at the news. His eyes lit up as he gazed at you, a smile pulling on his lips. A weary smile formed on your own face as you were instructed to push once again. Much to the room’s relief, the second baby did indeed come out much quicker than the first. The loss of the amniotic fluid from your uterus and the stretching that your pelvis had endured with the first made it worlds easier for your second baby to emerge into the world. The process repeated- a quick cleaning, a clamp after two minutes, and a quick check of vital signs.

“Another girl!” one of the nurses called, assessing the second in another small incubator. “Also stable!”

You were helped onto your back in somewhat of a hurry, the two boxes containing your babies pushed toward your bedside where they were quickly gathered in bundles of blankets and placed on your chest. It was all happening so fast, the world was practically blurring around you. As soon as your babies touched your skin, it was as if a deep-rooted instinct emerged from you. Law watched with pride as you nestled your newborns into your chest, your gentle hands holding their backs as they took in their first breaths as living humans.

Holy shit.

The room had quickly gone quiet around the four of you, a few of the nurses cleaning you up and reviewing your condition while additional nurses left the room to prepare suitable beds in the NICU for your newborns. Even though they were both healthy and stable, they needed some extra time to grow.

“Law…?” you asked weakly, turning your head to look at your husband.

Law’s golden eyes were wide, frozen, large, salty tears streaming silently down his cheeks. His chin was quivering as he gazed over you. His three girls.

His girls. He had two daughters.

Your husband huffed out a laugh that sounded more like a weary sob as he moved closer to you, stroking your head with his hand as he gazed warmly over the two tiny bodies on your chest, making their first contact with their mother. He wiped his eyes clumsily with the sleeve of his white coat, inhaling a gross-sounding sniffle through his nose.

“I’m sorry I’m crying…” he blubbered.

“Don’t be…” you replied, your own tears welling in your eyes. “You’re finally a daddy. I’m happy you’re crying.” You quietly laughed as Law reached forward with his hand, wiping your tears away from your cheeks, followed by another tender kiss against your jaw.

A nurse quickly stopped by your bedside, slipping small white cotton hats onto the tiny noggins of your daughters before leaving the four of you alone for a few more moments. The skin-to-skin time was crucial for their attachment to you, and once that was established, they’d be able to go into the NICU for their extra care.

Both of the girls, despite being only around 35 weeks, had near-full heads of hair. It made you wonder what they would have looked like being born at full-term. The one over your left breast had tiny black curls that still stuck to her head. The one over your right breast had thinner, straighter wisps of a lighter brown color. They’d come into their own in a few more months as they grew, but even just from first looks, they were both clearly their father’s daughters.

—

The minutes following the birth were quite nasty if one were to ask you. Law thought they were an interesting few moments, but you weren’t listening to him. He was biased. And frankly, you hated the way it felt when two placentas ejected themselves from your body. It was like having another two babies but slimier and worse.

Your epidural was removed and you were cleaned up and helped into a cotton gown to rest in. Your legs were weak from your long labor, but you were rewarded with some light food that didn’t taste like hospital sludge. The third best piece of news you received was that, by some miracle, you didn’t tear a bit, and your uterus had completely and successfully done its job.

Finally.

You passed out very soon after your placentas were delivered, exhausted and completely spent after delivering two babies.

Law took the opportunity to retreat to the NICU and oversee his daughters as they were hooked up to breathing tubes and heart monitors to ensure that their good conditions remained that way. They had their hand prints and foot prints taken by gentle nurses who were cooing over how cute they were, a sight that brought a smile to Law’s eyes.

“Dr. Trafalgar,” the voice of the doctor who oversaw your delivery shook him from his blissful state. “Congratulations.”

“Dr. Linlin,” he replied as he turned to face her, shaking her hand. “It’s good to see you. Thank you for everything.”

“No need to thank me, dear,” she hummed. “I’m a veteran of the motherhood game. It’s all in a day’s work for me. I’m so glad to see you happy and healthy, and with a wife even. I remember the first day I met you, that skinny, scared looking post-grad doctor forced to speak in front of a huge crowd.”

Law groaned, rolling his eyes as the memory. “One of the worst days of my life, for sure.”

The woman laughed, a hearty, bouncy chuckle. She hadn’t changed a bit in the 20-some-odd years, probably even longer, that she had been a doctor. “But look at you now. A huge, monumental surgery, and now twins. All in one day.”

“I’m going to sleep for centuries after all of this settles,” he added with a small smirk. “After helping my wife, obviously.”

Dr. Linlin gave Law a hearty smack on his back, right in between his shoulders, making him lurch forward slightly. “Your daughters will stay in the NICU for 24 hours for observation, and then they’ll be transferred to stay with the two of you in postpartum. Let me know if you need anything, alright? In a few hours, I’ll be back in your room to help you two sign the birth certificates.”

Law watched as the woman walked down the hall, her own bright pink doctor’s coat trailing behind her. One of the only things Law knew about Linlin was the amount of kids she had. It seemed like she popped out one every year, and yet she still had the time to be a labor and delivery doctor. He shook his head, trying to ignore the logistics of it, before walking back to the postpartum room you had been transferred to.

You were awake and staring at the ceiling above you, your hands clasped around your belly. You were still quite swollen, having been told that it would take a bit for your stomach to return to its pre-pregnant state, but you were already trying to come to terms with the fact that you would most likely never look exactly the same ever again. Not after carrying and shoving out two humans. When Law entered your quiet room, you smiled, all your anxieties melting away at the sight of your husband.

He wasted no time in crossing the space between you, leaning over you to plant a loving kiss against your lips. All the emotions he had been holding in throughout the day, all the tension that arose during his mad dash through the hospital, and all the worries that the two of you had shared during your pregnancy struggles flooded between your exchange. One of your hands traveled up to caress his cheek, your fingers trailing across his sideburns and into his slightly greasy black hair, pulling him ever closer to you.

“I’m happy you didn’t tear, or need anything else, really,” he whispered, pulling away from you. “After everything you went through, you needed an easy birth.”

You grinned. “I like to think our two other babies, somewhere out there in the universe, wanted it to be easy for us. For once.”

Law pulled up a chair and sat beside you, leaning against your bed and dropping his head onto your shoulder. You gently caressed your fingers through his hair in the way you knew he loved, watching with a fond smile as his eyes closed.

“What did they say about the NICU?” you asked, your voice tired and weary.

“24 hours. Then they’ll be transferred here to stay with us.” Law kissed your hand cheek. “They’ll be eligible for discharge after they’re able to eat, stay warm, and breathe efficiently.”

“Speaking of which,” you stated, slowly moving yourself to sit up despite the aches in your bones. “I pumped for the first time when you were looking at them.”

“How quick were you?” he asked with a joking tone. “I didn’t think I was gone for that long.”

“It didn’t take as long as I thought it would, but I also didn’t need to give that much milk. One of the nurses helped me, and they’ll be able to feed them in the NICU. At some point in another hour or so, though, she told me I’ll have to visit them there so we can make sure they can latch on their own.” One of your hands traveled up to painfully grab at one of your breasts. “I’m already feeling so achy in my chest. It’s gonna be a rough few months.”

Law grinned, dipping his head back down. “But you’ll have help. Don’t forget that.”

You hummed in response. “You’re right.”

After a few extra moments of silence, you added. “Names?”

“Hm?”

You chuckled. “Names. We have to name our girls.”

“Oh shit, you’re right,” Law muttered. He had completely forgotten one of the most important parts of being a new parent. “What were you thinking?”

“Cora and Rose,” you said, matter-of-factly. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while. And now we know they’re both girls.”

Law smiled, a rare, genuine expression that reached his eyes. A smile he only ever showed you. “Cora and Rose… which one is which?”

“Rose is the one with those little black curls. Cora is the one with the lighter hair,” you confirmed.

Another tender kiss was planted on your forehead. “I couldn’t ask for anything better than that.”

—

You didn’t expect breastfeeding to be as euphoric as it was. In less of an immense pleasure way, and more of a ‘holy crap, it feels like my breasts are losing 25 pounds’ kind of way.

Your girls were already so good. Cora latched instantly, one of her tiny, weak hands curling slightly upward to grasp at your skin. Both of them were still curled in a fetal position, and it would take them a bit longer to finally stretch out and look more like usual babies, but right now, they were the perfect size to swaddle and nestle into your skin.

The neonatal intensive care unit was a surprisingly colorful place. You always imagined it would be rife with anxiety, desperation, and sadness, a bunch of little, sick babies fighting for their lives, but the second you and Law finally entered to see your daughters, all those expectations flew out the window. Their corner was bright and colorful, with rainbows painting the walls and a fairly large window with a view of the surrounding city below. It was pitch black out, just past midnight, but you imagined the daylight would flood the room with a warm, natural light.

Your daughters were already so warm, kept insulated by their little cotton swaddles they were bundled in, and their tiny beanie hats that covered their fragile heads. The sight warmed your heart.

A breastfeeding specialist (which was a job you had no idea existed until then), helped situate you in a chair, accommodating your sore and spent body. She assisted with adequately positioning your daughters, one for each nipple, and gave you tips on how to make sure they latch and stay on while nursing from you.

You had an additional blood test a few hours after the birth, when your girls were done with their first natural feed and were now sleeping calmly in their incubators. It was looking like you’d be able to go home within the next 24 hours, if everything continued as normal.

While you were taking a light nap in the chair beside your daughters’ beds, Law used your phone to snap some pictures of Cora and Rose in their tiny beds side by side, smiling as he pulled up your text messages and sent them off to Shachi, Penguin, and Ikkaku. He didn’t think they’d respond, with it being so late, but their messages rolled in almost instantly, bringing a fond smile to his face.

Ika-chan OMGOGMOGMGOMGOMGOGMOGMGOGMOMG

Ika-chan TWO LITTLE GIRLS

Ika-chan ARE THEY HEALTHY????????

Ika-chan ARE *YOU* HEALTHY?????????????

Shachiiii Still cant believe those things came out of you whatthefuck

Shachiiii Must have hurt like a mf

PenPen Shachi’s next to me sobbing his eyes out

PenPen I’m crying too. But I’m stronger than him

PenPen Fuck no im not. Im soaked over here.

It was then that his pager beeped. He forgot he still had it on him. Technically, he was still on the clock. He gently placed your phone on the small table beside you to not wake you up before reaching into his coat pocket and procuring his pager, stepping out into the hallway to not disturb his three sleeping beauties.

“This is Dr. Trafalgar,” he said into the small device.

Some slight static came through the speaker. [Hey, this is Operation Triple Organ Replacement calling in from the OR! How’s our best doctor doing?]

Law couldn’t fight the smile that formed on his lips. “Before I answer, how was the rest of the procedure?”

Some small chuckles and a few mildly annoyed groans were heard. [Patient did absolutely amazing. He’s in recovery, stable, and is slowly being woken from anesthesia. They’ll be able to take his intubation tube out in a few more hours, but that’s out of our hands. Soooo…?]

Law felt relief fill his lungs. A successful operation was everything he was hoping for, and now he felt he could finally rest easy. “I have two daughters, Cora and Rose. Everyone is happy, healthy, and resting.”

He needed to pull the pager away from his face as a cacophony of garbled cheering was heard. A distorted [FUCK YEAH] echoed through the speaker.

“Are you guys still in the pre-op room?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

[Yeah, we’re all cleaned up and everything, but we were waiting for the right time to page you. We’re abusing hospital equipment, we know, but this is CRUCIAL.]

Law couldn’t blame his team in the slightest. It was past midnight on May 13th, and they had just completed the biggest surgical procedure of their lives, probably the most daunting surgery their hospital would ever see. They deserved to rest and relax, and yet here they were, still in the pre-op theater, celebrating their lead doctor.

The black-haired surgeon smiled, pressing down on the transmission button with his thumb. “You guys go clean up, alright? Treat yourselves. Everyone did absolutely amazing today.”

[Copy that, Doctor. Tell your wife we said congrats!]

Law slipped the pager back into his pocket before reentering the NICU room. His stern, golden eyes softened instantly upon seeing you awake, leaning over the side of Rose’s bed and idly trailing your thumb softly over her chubby cheek. Beside Rose, Cora’s arms were already outstretched far enough that she was almost encroaching on her sister’s space. Soon enough, the small oxygen tubes taped to their fresh faces would be gently removed, and they’d be able to go home and sleep in their cribs, in your apartment. Law leaned over you and kissed the crown of your head, rubbing his inked hand between your shoulder blades.

“Hey, baby?” he whispered, gazing down at you.

You leaned into his side, melting at his touch. “Yeah?”

“I’m so proud of you.”

#x reader #reader insert #fem reader #one piece x reader #law x reader #op x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar law #trafalgar d water law #i'm losing you

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janeyseymour · 21 hours

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La Cosa Nostra- pt 13

(co-written with @schemmentis): Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9. Part 10. Part 11. Part 12.

Summary: You and your wife spend some much needed time together, only for it to go up in flames.

WC: ~2.5k

When Melissa comes in, she finds you with both arms wrapped around your girls, them curled into your sides. She sees the tracks of the tears that had been pouring down your face earlier in the night, the pout of your bottom lip, the way that even in sleep and holding your girls you seem to be in distress.

Melissa quietly gets ready for bed before slipping in between the sheets. Rosie gladly curls up to her when she gently shifts her to her chest so she can shuffle closer to you. The hand not resting on a small back reaches, the backs of her fingers lightly caressing your cheek, imagining she can wipe the now dried tears away from you. “Ti amo, vita mia.” She whispers in the dark of the bedroom.

You blink awake in the dark a few hours later. Your girls are still softly sleeping. You roll over and nearly start crying again when you see your wife asleep and holding Rosie. You knew she would be home, eventually. Still, seeing her is a relief. You curl in closer to her as you close your eyes again. Maybe you can get an hour or two of actual good sleep now that Melissa is here. Before your girls try to pry your eyes open again.

You somehow manage to wake before either of your girls, or your wife. You convince half awake twins to settle for kissing Melissa's cheek and whispering good morning before you get up and get them breakfast. You don't even have to remind them to be quiet when they go back to do the same to say goodbye before taking them to school. You know they miss her, even after only one late night. You do too. But you'd hate to take any more rest from her.

You hug the girls goodbye at school and are walking across the lot back to your car when your phone rings. Your brow furrows. Your phone hasn't rung since you were taken off the salon. You tug it from your pocket, your confusion growing at Tony's name on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N. Could you come down to the salon? It's kind of important.”

“Isn't all that your job now, Tony?” You all but sneer.

“Look, we gotta talk about some of the financials. So I need you to help me sort it out, alright?”

You roll your eyes. “I'll be there in a minute.” You reluctantly agree, hanging up before Tony can say anything else.

Despite you not being a part of the operation anymore, you still step through the back entrance of the salon. Tony wants to call you in? Then you're going to come in at the business end of it.

You stop halfway down the hall at the door of the back office being open. When it was you; you never left it open and unlocked. Too many important things were kept there. You glance inside, raising an eyebrow at the near emptiness of the office. The file cabinets are gone, and so is everything from on top of the desk. The room is empty aside from that desk in the middle of it.

“There you are.” Tony says as he turns down the hall. “C’mon.” He tugs you lightly by the arm into the office, shutting the door behind him.

“Quite the rearrangement, Tony.” You comment, putting your hands in your pockets as you pace around the desk. “What's goin’ on, huh? What'd you suddenly need me for?”

“The ledger.” Tony says, cutting to the chase. “We need the ledger for the other business.”

You look at Tony, head turning to the side. We? You think to yourself as you study him. Suddenly it's we. And you're not a part of that we. “No.” You finally say.

“What?? What d’you mean no? Look, Y/N, my ass is on the line now, and we need that ledger that you have to have.”

“Oh, I have it.” You say. For all intents and purposes, you do. Only you and your wife know where it is. “I just ain't giving it to you. Tell whoever you're answerin’ to that if they want it; they better talk to me directly. ‘Cause I ain't trustin’ it with you, Tony. I wouldn't have trusted you to balance the cash register drawer.”

He goes to argue, but your phone ringing interrupts him. You roll your eyes at him as you leave, answering it.

“Hello?”

“Babe, where are you? Why didn’t you wake me?” your wife nearly shouts into the phone. “I just woke up!”

“Honey, you needed the sleep,” you tell her softly.

“What I needed was to see my girls off to school and to check on my wife before heading into work- on time!”

Her shouting at you makes you tear up all over again as you slam the door to your car. “I’m sorry. I’ll come pick you-”

“Don’t even bother,” Melissa huffs. “I’ll walk the few blocks.” And then she hangs up on you.

Your heart nearly shatters in your chest, and your eyes instantly well up with more tears that threaten to spill over. “Mel,” you whisper out softly.

You do still drive the way to her work, and when you get there, she’s just storming in. It’s clear she’s on a warpath as she slams the back door and throws her bag on the chair in the office. You step in a few seconds later, sending a sympathetic look at Valentina; she looks horrified.

“Mel,” you whisper as you wrap your arms around her waist, trying to stop her anger. She just shrugs you off. “Mel, please.” Your voice breaks as your heart actually does shatter this time.

She turns around at the hiccup in your voice, and there’s a fire in her eyes that dies out as soon as she sees the redness in your eyes and the tears that are there.

“Mi amore,” she whispers as she pulls you in.

“Mel, I- I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m so sorry I didn’t wake you this-”

“Hey,” she hushes you gently. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry I got so frustrated and yelled. I just… this all has me stressed to the max, and I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”

You cry into her shoulder, and your wife is quick to kick the door shut with her heeled foot. You cry just as harshly and abrasively as you did last night, although this time you don’t have to stifle the sobs that come bubbling out of your body.

“Honey,” she whispers as she rubs your back soothingly. “Baby.”

“I- I don’t even know,” you continue to shake with the sobs that rack through your body.

It takes you much longer to calm down than she hopes. But eventually she does, and after checking her progress on the ledger, she ushers you out of the building. She shouts to Valentina that she’s in charge, at least for this morning, and if someone comes in with an envelope full of money to just leave it on her desk.

“Melissa, you can stay,” you whisper as you wipe at your nose with your sleeve. “I’ll be- I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Melissa answers, leading you to the passenger side of your car. “If anything big goes on; Val will call me. Right now, you’re more important, amore.” She squeezes the hand she’s been leading you out by lightly, her head nodding for you to get in.

It’s only once you do that she closes the door for you before rounding the car and sliding into the driver’s seat. She reclaims your hand once you’ve buckled your seatbelt, kissing your knuckles as she pulls out of the parking lot.

“You really could have stayed.” You say quietly.

She squeezes your hand again, glancing away from the road just long enough to raise an eyebrow at you before looking back. “I’m not gonna leave ya when you’re clearly not okay. And don’t go saying you’re fine. I know when you’re lyin’, remember?”

You sigh, leaning back in your seat for the short drive back to your home. “I’m just…over emotional with all the changes. It’ll pass. I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll be fine, that much is true.” Mel agrees though she keeps a hold of your hand held in her lap. “But I’m not going to just expect this to pass. It’s been a lot lately, yeah. But it ain’t like you to just…” She sighs, without finishing. “You’re gonna tell me ya weren’t this way last night, too? Before I got home?” She asks softly instead, her thumb gently passing repeatedly over your knuckles.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Melissa nods, with a half grin on her face. “Which just means yes.” She says. “This is more than just everythin’ goin’ on- even if it has been a lot lately. For right now, stop tryin’ to fight me on stayin’ home, and consider talkin’ to me and lettin’ me help instead, huh?”

You don’t say anything else on the rest of the short drive. Instead, you consider everything over in your mind. As if you haven’t already a hundred times. By the time you’re following Melissa into the house, you could have another anxiety breakdown without much push.

You gladly slip into her side on your couch, her arms that had been held out in invitation instantly wrap around you. You sigh, though you don’t begin crying again. You return your wife’s embrace equally, clinging to her as much as you’re curling up to her side.

“Talk to me, tesoro.” Melissa repeats quietly, kissing your temple as she holds you close.

“Did Sammy tell you I almost turned myself in the other week? When they had you in the station?” You can guess her answer before she gives it based on how you feel her briefly freeze against you.

“No.” Melissa finally answers, one of her hands gently rubbing across your shoulders. “He didn’t. Probably ‘cause he already knew I was seconds away from tearin’ somebody to shreds that day. You really almost did?”

You nod, sniffling slightly. “I just…didn’t know what else to do. All this pressure on us and then gettin’ you so involved….them tearing apart Twelve Tables… God, that was as bad as watching somebody beat you, Mel. It’s like the same thing. You worked so hard for it and they ruined it because of me and—”

“Shh,” Melissa murmurs, tugging you into her lap to hug you even tighter. “None of it’s because of you, amore. We talked about all this plenty before we got serious, didn’t we? Then all over again before we got married? Don’t go actin’ like I’m some innocent little housewife over here, huh? You treat me better than that. You treat me like your partner, your equal, in everything. Includin’ all this. I knew what we were gettin’ into when we started, baby. We both did.”

“I know,” you mumble into her side. “But now... it’s so much more than just us and the business. We have your restaurant now. We have the girls now. The only thing that stopped me from turning myself in was the girls. I- I couldn't turn myself in and miss everything for the next ten to twenty years... the teen years, graduating and sending them off to college, high school boy or girl drama... potential grandbabies.”

“If either of them has a baby before they’re twenty, we are going to have problems,” Melissa chuckles lightly.

“Well... if I wasn’t there, you know that data shows kids with one absent parent statistically are more likely to fall into...”

“Not our girls,” your wife states firmly. “If anything happens to one of us, I have full faith that those girls will stay on the right track because of whoever is left with them.”

You just sigh into her, inhaling the scent of the perfume that she has on. You take a few shaky breaths, tears threatening to spill over again. They don’t though. You have your anchor right now.

“What do you need right now?” your wife asks you gently, once your breathing becomes more regulated. “Comfort, a solution, or to just... sit in the shit together?”

You shrug against her, and she only kisses your head as a response. You end up falling asleep, and when you wake up, Melissa is no longer next to you. In fact, the only reason you wake up is because your two tiny terrors are jumping on the couch next to you despite your wife’s quiet protests.

“Girls, let Mam sleep,” you can hear the redhead sigh as she drops their backpacks at the door.

“We are!” Rosie protests. “We just want to cuddle her and make her feel better after last night!”

Your response is to pull them both close to your chest with a soft sigh as you keep your eyes closed. “Mam needs some Cat and Rosie snuggles.”

“‘See?” Cat tells your wife pointedly. “Mam needs us!”

You hear Melissa’s low chuckle before she exhales quietly. “Is Mam going to be okay if I head to the restaurant?”

“Can we come with you?!” Rosie asks. “I miss Auntie Val.”

“Stay with Mam,” you tell them gently as you pull them further into your lap. “Cuddles, some pizza, and-”

“I only like the Pizza that Vince makes at the restaurant,” Cat tells you.

“We can order takeout from Mommy’s restaurant then,” you try to placate.

“Why can’t we just go there?” Rosie whines out as she tries to break free from your hold. For such a small little thing, she sure is strong. She ends up getting out of your restraint, and she’s quick to put her shoes on and grab her backpack before taking hold of Melissa’s hand.

“Girls, why don’t you... go grab some coloring sheets and crayons from the basement?” your wife suggests. They run off.

“They are not going to the restaurant now that it’s the front,” you tell her.

When you expect your wife to agree, she merely shrugs. “There are usually other kids with their parents, and the guys drop off in the back.”

“Melissa!” you say sternly. “My girls are not going to a front!”

“They are our girls,” she tells you firmly. “And I think... I think that if they’re at the restaurant, and the Feds show up, having the girls there will help fool them into thinking we aren’t up to anything.”

“Melissa.”

She just shrugs. “You want them off our backs? I think this is the best way to get them off our backs.”

You go to protest her idea again, but the girls come running back with new boxes of crayons and a multitude of coloring sheets in their hands.

“Come on, sweet things,” she says softly. “We can all go to Twelve Tables.” The redhead takes both of their hands, grabs their backpacks, and leads them out the door. You fume as you follow behind her. You can’t believe she would go against your wishes and make such a big decision on her own.

Tags: @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary #abbott elementary fanfiction

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palmofafreezinghand · 2 days

Text

suspenders: on ao3 here.

2011.

A wolf whistle stopped Carlisle mid-step as he walked down the second-floor hallway.

“Someone’s getting lucky,” Emmett sang, his signature heavy footsteps coming up quickly behind Carlisle.

“That is the hope,” Carlisle said quietly, eyes fixed on his freshly shined shoes, mindlessly twisting his wedding band.

“I’d fuck you,” Emmett chuckled, his strong hand briefly landing on Carlisle’s shoulder as he used the leverage to push himself forward.

Carlisle’s brows furrowed as he looked over at the young man. “If you were a woman and my wife, of course?”

“Don’t be weird. I’d do it as me,” Emmett frowned as if Carlisle was broaching the confines of their relationship with his suggestion.

“Oh, thank you?”

“Anytime, Buddy,” Emmett elbowed Carlisle’s arm as the two began to resume their walk down the hall. “She’s been gone what, a month right?”

“Two months, three weeks, and six days,” Carlisle responded a second too quickly to seem normal.

His wife had been offered the opportunity of a lifetime, lead designer and contractor of a historic restoration project. The original architect had been one she had admired for nearly a century, and the chance to fully restore his work had been one she under no circumstances could refuse, even if the project required her to live on-site.

“Not that you’ve been counting,” Emmett chuckled.

“Of course not. I support my wife in all her endeavors, even the ones that require her to live in a different country for two months, three weeks, six days, and seventeen hours.” “That was almost believable,” Emmet said as they reached the staircase.

“Good, I’ve been practicing.”

“Have fun,” Emmett grinned, punching Carlisle’s arm one last time, before jumping over the railing onto the first floor — an act he was strictly prohibited from doing while Esme was home — and bounding out the front door.

Carlisle made his way down the stairs in a dignified manner, futzing with the drape of his sweater as he walked. He stopped in the first-floor foyer, examining his reflection in the entryway mirror. He ran his fingers through his hair once, twice, a third time. The lock at the front of his hair refused to stay gelled back, stubbornly falling on his forehead. His wife once remarked it made him look like ‘Clark Kent’s’ alter ego, he thought it made him look like a bum.

“Someone’s dressed up,” Rosalie said from the living room.

“Do I look alright?” Carlisle asked, turning to face her, holding his arms out at either side.

“Better than you usually do, but that’s not saying much,” she said from her spot on the couch. A disassembled speaker lay on the coffee table in front of her. A soldering iron in her hand as she pieced two parts back together.

“You know some people do find me half-decent looking.”

“I am painfully aware. You forget Esme and I are friends,” she sighed, turning her attention back to her project.

Carlisle took the move as a sign the conversation was over and turned back to the entryway mirror. His focus was fixed on his tie this time. It was light blue floral silk. Esme had bought it on one of their first trips to Paris, remarking it complimented his eyes.

“Speaking of Esme,” Rosalie said, dropping her voice so the rest of the house could not hear her unless listening intently, “did you know she enjoys a high-waisted pant?”

“Does she? I feel as if most of her pants have a reasonable - Oh, you are referring to my trousers.”

“I did not say that,” Rosalie said but he could see in the mirror she was nodding her head. “I did not say she thinks a pant like you used to wear in the thirties are becoming or quote accentuates your hips.”

“Good to know,” Carlisle said, turning to walk back up the stairs, appearing to be nonchalant. “On other news, I believe I forgot something upstairs.”

He was halfway down the hall when Rosalie quietly called after him, “Suspenders.”

“Suspenders?”

“Yes, but wear something over them.”

“Thank you,” Carlisle said, resuming his walk toward his bedroom.

“I didn’t tell you that.”

“Of course not.”

Once in his bedroom he fetched a pair of dark brown high-waisted wool trousers from the very back of his closet and tried them on. He examined himself in the floor-length mirror, turning and posing. He supposed they did accentuate his hips. Was that a good thing? He clipped on a pair of suspenders and slipped a slate blue sweater over the ensemble. With one more glance in the mirror, he admitted he did look better.

He switched the pants he had previously neatly tucked in his duffel bag for two pairs of high-waisted trousers that he had not worn since 1974 when Alice broke the news they were dreadfully out of style. Another set of suspenders was thrown in the bag, just in case.

Truthfully he did not need to primp as if he was courting her again. His wife would surely arrive at the private airpark smelling of construction crews and latex-based paint, in a pair of dusty stained coveralls. Yet, there was something exhilarating about the preparation, a giddiness similar to the first time he asked her to accompany him on a hunt. As close to a date as they could manage back in those days. Hopefully she still found him as charming.

Two at a time he made his way back down the stairs. He looked over to the entryway mirror one last time, running his hands through his hair, brushing the lock of hair back, it promptly fell when he removed his hand. With a sigh, he turned away from his reflection.

Before leaving he popped his head into the living room doorway, Rosalie had been joined by Edward, Renesmee, Alice, and Bella. Bella and Edward were tucked into an armchair reading from the same book. Alice was scrolling on her laptop. Renesmee sitting on the couch next to Rosalie, picking up a piece of the speaker turning it over in her hands, and then putting them back in the wrong place on the table.

“I’m off to the airport,” Carlisle said. “We will be back soon. Do not burn down the house, please.”

“Can I go with you?” Renesmee pleaded in a manner that was not age-appropriate, but he suspected was a result of being raised by nine adults she had wrapped around her finger.

“Yet again, no you may not,” Carlisle said.

“Why not?”

“Because I said so.”

“Ugh,” Ness groaned, slumping in her seat. “I haven’t seen Grandma in months. I have so much to tell her.”

“I assure you she will want to hear every detail when we’re back in a week.”

“A whole week?” Edward asked quietly, looking up from the book he and Bella were reading.

’You have absolutely no room to talk. How many times I have served as a babysitter?’ Carlisle thought with a raised brow.

Edward nodded in concession, pressing his lips together as he returned his attention to the book in his wife’s hands.

“This outfit of yours is awful,” Alice complained. “Why do you never wear anything I buy you?”

“Your last purchase was a lobster-patterned three-piece suit,” Carlisle said.

“It was nautical.”

“I think he looks fine,” Rosalie said, glancing up briefly.

“That’s quite a compliment, coming from her,” Edward teased.

“Thank you, Rosalie,” Carlisle said, picking his keys up from the entryway rack, and opening the front door. “Goodbye, don’t cause any chaos, please. And if you do… I am begging you, don’t call.”

#carlisle cullen #emmett cullen #emmett mccarty #rosalie hale #the cullens #my stories

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bucknastysbabe · 2 days

Text

Outta your head - Modern!Criston

A/N: short n sweet subby cole take it or leave it xoxoxoxo

Rating: Explicit

Tags: PWP, femdom, MOMMY KINK, pegging, soft baby crispy, sub!Criston, subspace, modern au, dirty talk, gentle domme, it’s just one (1) needy bb and his mommy🧡

He’s so pretty like this, you thought.

Your boyfriend let you spoon him on the couch, his ass snug around your strap. You nuzzled his neck and hair, eyes on the movie. You ran your hand across his tanned chest, trying to keep Criston calm.

He was being good so far, quiet and eyes soft. He’d been a little spacey since you opened him up soft and gentle, careful not to rile him up by playing with his sweet spot. Criston whined and gave you his watery eyes, glancing over his shoulder as you fingered him open on the couch.

You remained still, occasionally drifting your hand down to hold his hip firmly. Sweet boy was instructed to warm your strap-on. Criston’s chest hitched, mouth opening just the slightest. You murmured into his ear, nipping at it playfully.

“You full prissy? It's so good for me right now. Warming your mommy’s cock like this, yeah, I have a good boy don’t I?”

He bit down on his lip, eyes scrunching tight as he swallowed a whine. Criston slurred, “Mhm, yes Mommy, you’re…ugh..big.” You pet at his chest again, eyes back on the television. You fell into a content lull, eyes glued to the screen.

Then you heard him.

Soft, soft little whimpers, bitten off so you couldn’t hear. You blinked a bit, registering Criston’s state. His eyes were glazed, bottom lip was puffy from nipping on it. You looked down to see his swollen cock leaking on his belly. The cock in his ass was so big he couldn’t escape from any little stimulation.

You shifted a bit to test the waters, Criston crying out sharply, shuddering and leaking more. You cooed and kissed his shoulder, poor thing. He’d feel better later. Your man would get so stressed at work training federal agents, taking on too much of a workload.

He’d dropped to his knees earlier, eyes wet and pleading. Criston moaned, “Need you mommy.” That’s all it took for you to devise a plan for your precious other half.

“Cris? Honey, you getting squirmy on me? We’re halfway through. Making a mess already? Thank god I put down the towel.”

“M’sorry.”

You didn’t want to punish him, not with how big and wet his eyes were, how he couldn’t stop whimpering. No, Criston just needed a little gentle teasing. Merely a reminder of who was in charge of his pretty empty head. You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, murmuring, your hand spanning down to his twitchy lower belly.

“Do you need to cum now or can you wait? I think you can hold it a little longer, let the movie finish, I was watching you know,” you hummed into his ear. Criston shivered as your breath hit his oversensitive skin, the involuntary movement sliding down to his feet tangled within your own. He gnawed on his bottom lip and swallowed before replying, “I- I can wait.”

You grinned at his desire to please, playfully pulling at a peaked nipple as you cooed, “Good boy. Always the best for mommy.”

His dark eyes rolled through another shiver and twitch so violent you could feel it through the fake cock. Unpausing the movie, you snuggled back in, draping a thigh atop his quivering ones. Criston would probably get squirmier as time progressed. Or he’d completely sub out— you’d see.

He was subbed out this go-round. You blinked and readjusted yourself when the credits rolled. The remote lay untouched. You had more important things to handle now. Peering down at Criston you could almost weep at the beauty, he was glassy-eyed and slack-jawed. Drooling just a bit as he whined, wet eyes searching yours with confusion. You pushed back thick curls, smiling gently, warmth in your gaze.

He whined again, mouth moving but little garbled noises came out. Poor baby boy almost always turns to mush when warming your strap. You’d succeeded in blanking his mind out, that was the goal.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you now, just keep being good.”

His pretty lips warbled, dark lashes blinking away fresh tears down Criston’s darkened skin. You pressed a kiss to his temple, urging him to flip onto his belly. In a slow tangle of limbs, you now rested atop strong thighs, the strap still seated deep in his ass. The man feebly grabbed at a pillow, cute little noises echoing from a swollen pout.

“You ready for mommy to fuck you now, hm prissy?”

He looked back over an olive shoulder, eyes pleading, trying to speak. It was more of a strangled sob and a jerk of his head. That’s all you need to see. Grabbing his slim hips you withdrew slowly, inches dragging outward. You curiously spread open to watch the sight, arousal flooding your body.

He yelped and jerked, back twitching all over, goosebumps erupting on his gorgeous skin. You snapped your hips forward in a loud clap, grinning at more cries of pleasure. You kept the same rhythm after that, heavy-handed yet steady. Criston wouldn’t take long to bust anyway— he sounded like a paid actress the way he was crying and wailing.

Deciding to get closer, you laid along his sweating back, keeping that huge silicon piece deep inside. You knew that particular strap-on didn’t leave a bit untouched— lessening the need to angle for the prostate. Criston babbled nonsense, something between your name and ‘mommy’.

You breathed against his ear, holding back a snicker.

“Awe, Criston, you’re so loud baby, you needed this huh? Needed this big cock inside your tight ass? Letting the whole hallway hear how the super agent is a needy whore for his mommy’s cock?”

He wailed again, breath staccato as he bit down on his lip to keep quiet, pretty teeth shining in the dim light of the TV. Nuzzling the side of his face you purred, “Move with me angel, rut against the towel. Know you want to. Spread out a little more.”

The raven-haired man spread his thighs out, wetly gasping at the change in angle, the terry cloth now rubbing on his cock. He managed to mewl, “M-mommy!” You rubbed at Criston’s flanks, watching his face contort in pleasure, feeling his lean hips move with yours. You felt like one with your lover, two bodies moving in perfect unison.

“You gonna cum for me baby? Come for your mommy? I know you're aching so bad prissy,” you murmured against the shell of Criston’s ear, nipping at the lobe. The man was a mess of cries and sniveling. He cried out, “Please! Mmh!”

You jerked your hips downwards roughly, moaning in excitement when Criston seized up and spread his thighs wide— one falling off the couch in the sudden movement. His skin erupted into goosebumps once more, heaving as he came with a long, loud keen.

He sobbed in the aftermath, the build-up and final release left your baby a wreck. Gently pulling out of his ass and unbuckling the strap you carelessly discarded it to dote on your lover. Criston sniffled and let you manhandle him, his nose nuzzling between your tits, whining softly.

You noted the sticky mess slathered across your stomach from Criston and rolled your eyes. You scratched his scalp and cooed, “Messy baby, you gonna clean it up?” Safe to say it was a wonderful surprise to watch his dark eyes sparkle when Criston finally snaked down your body with his tongue— lapping down to between your thighs.

You groaned when his lips closed around your swollen clit.

#hotd fanfic #hotd smut #criston cole x reader #ser criston cole x reader #criston cole imagine

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extralively · 3 days

Text

Movie Night

Gojo Satoru/Original Female Character NSFW (it's just smut) 4,936 words Also posted on AO3 Summary: Satoru has Yura over for a little movie night, but what he has in mind is something completely different. So Yura decides to teach him to have a little patience as she... 'enjoys the movie'.

While I'm editing the next chapter of the main fic (coming soon!), lemme just post this oneshot here on tumblr. If you've been keeping up with the series on AO3, you might have already read this one!

Anyway, this is just pure filth and can be read as standalone. Enjoy!

Whenever Satoru asked Yura to watch a movie with him nowadays, it was an inevitability that it would eventually lead to sex. When it would happen was always up in the air—as in, if they were going to actually get through the entire movie or not—but in general, whenever they decided to hang out at each other’s apartments alone, sex was a foregone conclusion.

Of course, Yura sometimes still wanted to watch the damn movie.

...But she also had to admit that sometimes, she too had something else in mind.

“So, what’s the movie this time?” Yura asked, flopping down onto Satoru’s comfy leather couch.

Satoru soon joined her after he grabbed the TV’s remote, sitting next to her. “It’s a romcom,” he said, stretching out his long legs to rest his feet on the coffee table. “It came out recently.”

Yura shifted on her side, resting her head on the back cushion as she let her legs curl on top of his, her body halfway on his lap. “...It’s not porn again this time, is it?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Satoru let out a huff. “That wasn’t porn! That was... an erotic movie. It’s a Japanese classic!”

“I mean...” Yura tilted her head. “The movie is like ninety percent very explicit sex—until the woman cuts the guy’s dick off at the end.”

“Well...” Satoru sighed. “That was only after the guy was already dead...”

Yura snorted.

Satoru eventually started the movie up, and their attention shifted to his ridiculously large TV screen. This time, it really seemed to be a mostly light-hearted movie, and Yura quickly relaxed into the couch cushions, letting her head rest against his shoulder as she curled further into his side.

As the main characters of the story started being introduced, Yura’s hand came up to hold onto the crook of Satoru’s elbow, the one trapped between her body and his—which meant that his other arm was free to caress her leg as he pleased. And Yura sighed in approval, enjoying his touch on her bare skin; she had already changed into what could pass off as comfortable pajamas: an old pair of shorts and an oversized sweater—she’d figured she would not be leaving Satoru’s apartment again until tomorrow so she might as well make herself comfortable, right? And Satoru had also had the same idea, having already changed out of his street clothes and into sweatpants and a loose t-shirt—both now perfectly cozy until all these clothes were inevitably chucked off somewhere later in the night.

Familiar story beats were happening on screen—nothing too innovative, bordering on cliché. Yura tried to focus on the movie, she really did, but it wasn’t particularly gripping... and Satoru’s hand on her leg was more than a little distracting. And that was before his other hand moved despite its limited mobility between the two of them, coming up to gently caress her thigh; that, she was more than certain, was completely deliberate. The bastard definitely knew what he was doing here.

“Satoru, it’s been like ten minutes since the start of the movie,” she told him, amused.

“Hmm?” Satoru replied, tilting his head towards her ever so slightly. “I’m not doing anything, I’m just... watching the movie.”

The smile on his face clearly contradicted his words. Sly bastard.

Satoru turned his head to press his lips to the top of her head. “Not doing anything at all...” He pressed another kiss there. “Wouldn’t want to miss this amazing movie.” And another kiss. “I think it’s good enough to win an Oscar.”

Yura was trying to bite back a grin, as she didn’t want to give in too easily. By now, she was fairly sure Satoru had picked any random movie just so he could have the excuse of a movie night, when in reality, what he wanted was sex. She had no idea why he went the roundabout way sometimes, since he wasn’t exactly shy about just asking for it directly—so the least he could do was play along a little bit more, couldn’t he?

“The movie does seem pretty promising,” Yura said, still trying (and failing) to keep a smile off her face. “It would be a shame if we missed it.”

Her hand slid up from his arm to his chest, and she started drawing random imaginary figures on his shirt.

“Such a shame,” Satoru agreed, his hand wrapping around her thigh to hitch her leg higher on his lap.

Yura let her hand trail downward on his torso, reaching the waistband of his sweatpants and sliding her fingers over it. She could feel Satoru’s stomach contracting briefly at the pressure, and she couldn’t help herself; she let her hand slip under his t-shirt to brush against the bare skin there, her fingers finding the contours of his muscles and gently tracing along.

...Well, that might have been a bit too much, because Satoru suddenly lifted his free hand to hold her head, tilting it up as his lips immediately found hers and—goodbye movie.

Yura smiled against Satoru’s mouth as he shifted on the couch, maneuvering both of their bodies so she would fully turn towards him as he moved between her legs. Her hand had to leave his stomach with the movement, and she briefly lamented the lack of contact before he was quickly on her again.

As her hands came up to cradle his face close to her, his lips were a bit insistent as they moved against hers, no soft and slow movements this time—instead, Satoru locked their lips together in deep kisses that had her head spinning. He kept pushing her backwards too, until she eventually ended up lying back on the couch, Satoru always moving with her as he settled right between her legs. He was quick to pull off his sunglasses and toss them away, and Yura had to smile again at his clear impatience before his lips were immediately back on hers. Why had he even suggested a movie night when what he wanted for tonight was clearly this?

Oh well. Yura let her hands slip underneath Satoru’s shirt again to caress his back, while his tongue pushed its way into her mouth. One of his hands made its way down her waist, tilting her hips up and making sure they were perfectly slotted against his—so that once he started grinding his hips down onto hers, she would definitely feel it.

“...Someone’s a little impatient,” Yura breathed out as they disconnected their mouths. And Satoru didn’t even give himself a chance to breathe, as he immediately pressed his lips to her cheek and started trailing down kisses all the way to her neck.

“I was out all week,” he said, in between kisses to her skin.

Yura snorted. “We had sex yesterday.”

“...Still plenty of time we need to make up for.”

She was pretty sure Satoru was grinning against her neck, and Yura huffed out a laugh that ended up turning into a moan when Satoru started sucking on that one spot and ground his hips onto hers at the same time.

Satoru certainly seemed to be up and ready himself, didn’t he?

“You sure that you didn’t get turned on thinking about that porn movie from last time?” Yura huffed out as Satoru’s hips started insistently grinding against hers, effectively starting to dry hump her. Yura let her thighs spread a bit wider, tilting her hips so the pressure would be on just the right spot.

“...That was an erotic movie,” Satoru insisted, lifting his head back up. “And no... Maybe.” He shot her a crooked grin.

Satoru’s mouth found hers again. When his hands slipped down to start tugging at her shorts, Yura simply lifted her hips to assist their removal, and Satoru pulled away from her so he could tug her shorts and panties away in one go. She looked up at him, amused; so that was how eager he was? Zero patience for anything else, not even bothering to remove her oversized sweater as he completely bared her bottom to him.

And he, of course, wasn’t too far behind; after tossing her shorts and underwear somewhere, he immediately started pushing down his own pants, also neglecting to remove his own t-shirt. Yura could help, she thought, still amused as she looked up at Satoru rushing to remove his sweatpants. But Satoru was just so darn eager, that maybe... he could learn to have a little patience.

Yura sat up as Satoru was about to return to her, sans pants. And as she placed a hand on his chest to hold him back, making him look at her in confusion, she tried biting back a smile. “...I still want to watch the movie, though,” she said, and Satoru continued to stare, completely befuddled—he’d clearly been expecting something else.

He was so confused that when she started urging him backwards, he just let her guide him without a word. His blue eyes were blinking up at her as if to ask ‘what are you doing?’, but Yura only smiled in return, pushing him back until he was finally sitting again on the couch. She gave him no chance to say anything then, quickly climbing onto his lap—except it was to sit on it with her back to his chest. Not exactly what he had in mind, and as she grabbed his hands to wrap his arms around her body in an innocuous embrace, she could feel the sheer confusion radiating from all over him.

“...Yura,” Satoru eventually spoke up behind her as she settled onto his lap, facing the TV. Never mind that both of their bottom halves were completely bare, and she had purposefully sat with his erection under her... “What—”

“Shh,” she interrupted him. “It’s movie night, and I wanna watch a movie.”

She was desperately trying to bite back a grin.

“Yuraaaa,” he whined behind her, his arms tightening around her body as he dropped his forehead against her shoulder. “There are more fun things to do than a movie.”

Satoru’s hands tried moving up her chest, but she grabbed them again and held them in place. “You said we were going to watch a movie—so we’re watching a movie,” she said again. But her hips shifted around, rubbing against him, and Satoru drew in a sharp exhale.

Yura kept her eyes on the TV, even though she wasn’t actually paying attention. And neither was Satoru, although she wasn’t surprised in the least—she could still see a mess of white hair against the side of her head, his face still pressed against her shoulder as his arms held her tightly to him. His hips tried grinding up into her, and she could feel him tantalizingly close to her unclothed core—but patience. She shifted on his lap, sitting up straighter, and it made him whine again.

She unwrapped his arms from around her, removing them from her body. “Behave. It’s movie night, remember?” she said, and Satoru whined again.

...But the thing was, she had shifted on his lap, with a purpose. She could now open her thighs just a bit more, and, there you go—his member was slotted right against the crack of her buttocks. And Satoru sure had noticed that, suddenly going still as he seemed to be waiting for what she was going to do next.

And what she did next was grind her hips down, slowly. Satoru let out a shaky breath, and she did it again, and again, and to be honest, the more she shifted back, the more she could feel him rubbing against her outer folds. She was teasing him, yes, but it also left her wanting more, despite her little plan to act as blasé about it as possible—so Yura couldn’t help herself. She shifted back some more, sitting further back on his lap so she could feel his entire length resting right outside her core.

Yura bit her lip, looking down at her thighs to see the head of him poking out from between them. What a sight, she thought, but when she ground her hips down again, it didn’t really provide enough pressure to satisfy her properly, his member still remaining outside of her folds.

So she took matter into her own hands, literally—she reached down with one hand and used it to press him up against her, slotting him between her folds and finally rubbing herself against him. Her nether lips were hugging his length tightly, increasingly coating him in her wetness with every movement she made. Satoru’s hands were gripping her hips, trying to urge her further, and despite all that, Yura was still trying to pretend that she was fully engrossed in the movie in front of them.

“Satoru, you’re missing the best part,” Yura spoke up, and Satoru only let out a questioning hum behind her. “Of the movie,” she clarified. She shifted her hips again, and she let her thumb caress the head of his length for a moment.

“This is not... the best part,” Satoru responded. “We haven’t reached the climax yet.”

Yura’s grin widened. “No, but we can’t just skip there,” she said, paired with another roll of her hips, the feeling of his member dragging against her folds way too good for her to stop. “Gotta go through the rest of the movie first.”

Yura let her thighs fall open some more, spreading her legs further on his lap. Maybe it was time to move on to the ‘next scene’, she thought, amused, and she finally shifted on his lap, folding her legs back as she essentially knelt down outside of his thighs. She still kept him pressed against her folds throughout, unwilling to break the connection, but once she was in the right position with her knees on either side of him, she finally shifted enough to let the head notch against her entrance, and she slowly sank down on him.

Satoru let out a long, shuddering breath as she took him in, and Yura herself did the same. Her hands came to rest on his thighs for support, the feeling of her walls being stretched open as she pushed him into her completely frying her brain for a moment, but not enough for her to stop. Quite the opposite; she continued sinking down until he was all the way inside, her hips meeting his and she let her weight drop onto his lap, taking a moment to just... enjoy the feeling.

“...Okay,” she eventually breathed out, opening her eyes back up. “Let’s watch the movie.”

Satoru let out a confused ‘hm?’ as Yura bit back a grin again, keeping her hips still. Her eyes were glued to the screen, and once Satoru realized she was not going to move, he whined again. “Yuraa—”

His hands started creeping up from her hips, and she had to knock them away from her. “It’s movie night,” she said, and even if she couldn’t see his face, she could tell he was pouting. His hands tried returning to her body, but she once again slapped them away. “Behave. Let me watch the damn thing.”

She wasn’t really watching the damn thing. Her eyes were glued to the screen, yes, but Yura had no idea what was going on anymore. Something something the main character needed to find a date, but that seemed almost irrelevant—not when she could feel Satoru hot and heavy inside of her, feeling him stretch her open on the inside. Satoru dropped his hands to the couch cushions once he realized she wasn’t going to let him touch, and he eventually let his body fall back against the couch as he seemingly decided to just roll with it.

“Is the movie really that good?” he asked, almost like making conversation. But to be honest, Yura had gotten a little distracted—when Satoru had moved, she’d felt him shift inside of her, and she bit her lip at the feeling.

“...Sure,” she replied. The fact that she was sitting directly on him made the feeling of him even better, seemingly increasing all the pressure there inside of her. Of course, sitting still for too long made her get too used to it, so Yura shifted her hips just a bit, just so she could feel him moving inside of her and she bit her lip some more.

“I was the one who picked it,” Satoru commented. Yura suddenly felt him start caressing the curve of her ass ever so slightly, brushing the skin there up and down until it reached where she was pressed against him. “I do have good taste.”

Yura hummed out a vague response, still trying to pay attention to the screen. But it was too distracting, feeling him slotted snugly inside of her; she thought she could feel something throbbing down there, but at this point, she couldn’t be sure whether that was him or her anymore.

Maybe both.

The main character on the TV was asking her best friend for advice, who seemed to be trying to talk some sense into her. Or at least that’s what Yura guessed, because her mind was elsewhere entirely—the feeling of him was almost too much, and even after all this time of them sleeping together, she was often taken aback by how deep Satoru could go.

One of her hands left his thigh, coming up to rest on her lower stomach instead. Her fingers splayed open on her own skin, slipping under her sweater as she absentmindedly caressed herself there. She wasn’t sure if it was just her imagination or not, but there were times that when she pressed down on her stomach like that, she thought she could almost feel him inside that way. Well, she could definitely feel him inside in another way, and she let her hips shift just the slightest bit again just so she could feel him sliding against her walls once more.

...This was actually really nice, she thought. What a fun movie night.

The main character in the movie seemed to have finally gotten somewhere with the male lead, and they were moving in for their first kiss. But before their lips could make contact, someone interrupted them, and then Yura suddenly jumped when Satoru decided to brush a finger over the sole of her foot—her walls immediately contracting around him at the tickling sensation.

“...Honestly,” Yura breathed out, though she was pretty sure Satoru had also let out a small gasp at the feeling. “You just won’t let me watch the movie in peace, will you?” she said, even as her lips were tugging upwards.

“What are you talking about,” Satoru said, and she could feel the sly tone in his voice even without seeing the accompanying grin. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Honestly,” Yura repeated, except that this time, she rolled her hips along with it. “Just let me watch the movie.”

Satoru, however, had nothing to complain about this time as Yura started moving her hips against his, pushing him in and out of her. In fact, she was sure she felt him fall back down against the cushions with a long sigh, his hands coming up to hold on to her calves as her hips rolled on top of him.

Yura set out at a quick pace, her hips moving with purpose. Her eyes also never left the screen, even if it was all a blur at this point—the feeling of him dragging along her walls was too good for her to pay attention to anything else. She adjusted the angle and quickened her pace, feeling Satoru’s fingers tighten against her skin as she heard his breathing pick up behind her, and it only encouraged her further.

Yura was completely focused on her own movements, her hands holding on to his thighs for support as her hips never stopped rolling on top of him. She did eventually change the angle again, her hips starting to move back and forth now, and that’s when she felt Satoru’s hand leave her calf to come up to her hip. She felt his upper body lift off the couch behind her, shifting closer to let his hand trail to her front—and she slapped it away.

“I’m busy,” she chided, still trying to bite back her own sly grin. “This movie is really good.”

“...Yeah?” Satoru breathed out, seeming confused again for a second.

“Hm-hm,” Yura nodded, returning her hands to his thighs, using them as leverage... but also caressing his thighs a bit. “You’re the one... otherwise distracted.”

Satoru let out a shaky breath, his torso dropping back to the couch. “I’m very distracted. Getting... more distracted by the second.”

She did allow herself to grin this time. “Then just be done with it... and get back to the movie.” Her pace increased.

Satoru’s hands gripped her calves again, breathing out her name. It wouldn’t be long now, she figured, letting her inner muscles contract around him; his fingers tightened on her skin at the feeling and she did it again.

Yura couldn’t help but glance behind her now, catching Satoru with his head thrown back against the cushions and his chest heaving up and down, almost in synch with her own movements. He seemed to be really into it, she thought, smiling, as she turned her head back to the front. She let her inner muscles squeeze him again, increasing her pace, and it didn’t take long for him to finally snap—his hips pushed up into hers, and she finally felt him start releasing himself deep inside of her with a long, drawn-out groan.

As Yura felt the warmth inside of her increasing, she let her hips slow down even as she squeezed him with her inner muscles once more, urging on his release. She closed her eyes this time, enjoying the feeling, letting her hips come to a halt by sinking back down on him completely and staying there.

As Satoru panted behind her, Yura let herself catch her own breath even if her body was still tense from the lack of release. This felt good, though, and she was enjoying it as part of the experience—the way she could still feel him inside, the way he made her feel full. And suddenly, one of her hands ended up returning to her lower stomach, pressing down gently, the thought of heirs and babies suddenly passing through her mind and Yura tried not to think about how those intrusive thoughts weren’t quite as unwelcome as they used to be. Feeling Satoru’s release inside of her was making her stomach do strange, but not unpleasant, flip flops—was this some sort of weird kink she had suddenly developed? She would definitely have to blame Satoru for this one. There would be no Gojo babies any time soon with her IUD in place, but the thought of them...

Maybe one day, echoed around in her mind, and Yura didn’t chase it away. Instead, she let her palm warm up her stomach, just as she could still feel Satoru warming up her insides.

...and he was definitely still warm and hard inside of her. So much stamina, she mentally laughed; he was showing no signs of softening anytime soon.

Yura’s lips tugged up.

Round two, then?

“...You still watching that movie?” Satoru eventually spoke up, still a little breathless.

“Yep,” she answered. But she let the hand on her stomach trail down, slipping between her legs until she reached the spot where their bodies were joined. Yura let her fingers brush against the base of his length, even if there wasn’t much space for it as she had sunk down on him completely. She teased both him and her there with gentle touches, and she couldn’t tell whether the stickiness she was feeling was from her or him or both.

One thing that did occur to her, though, was the fact that, hold on, there was a bit of him left that she could still take in, right? Her fingers rubbed against it and then against her folds wrapped around him, feeling his fingers tightening on her calves again. So Yura shifted her hips back, adjusting the angle and pushing down, and yeah—just a little bit deeper.

She stayed like that for a while longer, enjoying how it felt. It was almost like she couldn’t tell where she ended and he began—they were completely joined as one like this. She would have never imagined this feeling could be so intoxicating, a sudden wish for them to stay there forever passing through her—if only her body hadn’t started craving more.

The characters on the screen seemed to be finally hooking up, a modestly filmed sex scene starting up that couldn’t compare to what was going on outside of the TV. Satoru’s hands found her buttocks again, but instead of caressing them, he began squeezing them in his hold, playing with the flesh there. Yura briefly wondered if he was enjoying the sight back there, but her brain was suddenly emptied when she started shifting her hips slightly, enjoying the way Satoru was prodding at the deepest parts of her. Just lightly shifting her hips on top of him, pressing down to feel the pressure of him inside, but her movements eventually started to increase bit by bit. She began raising her hips and sinking back down, feeling him drag in and out of her and then in again—and this time, she was focusing on herself.

Yura’s hips kept moving up and down, making sure to adjust the angle so she could take him in as deep as she could with every thrust. Her movements couldn’t be too fast if she wanted to keep sinking in all the way, so she made up for it in intensity. She was almost bouncing on his lap, her hands gripping his thighs again as she adjusted her hips to push him in harder, stimulating something deep inside of her every time. And all the while, Satoru did nothing but let her do as she pleased, his hands cupping her ass almost like he was holding it up for her.

The movie in front of them was long forgotten as Yura let her head fall down, too immersed in the way her walls were being forced open every time she pushed him in. She could definitely feel something leaking out from where they were joined, her mind briefly registering it as his previous release—while the other part of her mind was saying more.

“Yura,” he breathed out her name, his hands sliding down from her behind until they were gripping her calves again. Yeah, she wanted more—more of him, more of this, just... more. So one of her hands eventually left his thigh, pressing down on her stomach again (was she really feeling him there or...?), and slowly, she slipped it down between her legs. As she started rubbing herself, her desperation only increased, her movements becoming erratic as she gripped his thigh harder. Her legs tensed and relaxed and tensed again, and she could feel Satoru’s legs doing the same under her. Come on, now, she thought to herself. A little more—

And it finally hit her, her hips roughly sinking down completely as her walls clamped around him, squeezing him, as her orgasm crashed over her. Satoru seemed to join her right after, his hips thrusting himself even deeper as she felt his warmth filling her up again.

Yura stayed still, letting the waves of pleasure wash over her. Her walls were spasming around him and she suddenly felt full again—not even realizing her hand had moved up from between her legs to rest on her stomach once more.

...Ah, shit. Definitely a new kink.

She could feel Satoru’s heavy breathing behind her as they both struggled to catch their breaths. His tight grip on her calves eventually loosened, and he was the one to finally break the silence.

“That’s... one hell of a movie,” Satoru spoke up, still breathless.

Yura laughed.

Once her eyes were unscrewed shut, her gaze eventually landed on the TV again. The movie was still playing.

With a long exhale, Yura let her torso fall back against him, feeling his chest heaving against her back in synch with hers. He sadly ended up slipping out of her with the movement, but his arms eventually came to circle her body, holding her close.

She sighed. Her hands came up to rest on top of his, her eyes landing on the TV screen again. The movie seemed to be close to its end, the main characters trying to resolve a misunderstanding between the two, but Yura was too busy feeling Satoru’s release slipping out of her to pay attention to the screen.

(...His couch was leather, it should be fine...)

“You know,” Satoru started, pressing his lips to the side of her head. “We could put on another movie after this...”

Yura laughed again, awkwardly unfurling her legs from under her and stretching them out. “We could,” she agreed.

She felt Satoru grinning against her cheek. “We could even go watch a movie in the bedroom, and then in the bathroom—”

“You don’t have a TV in the bathroom,” she reminded him.

Satoru huffed out a laugh. “We can get creative.”

Yura laughed with him; that they could...

#gojo satoru #jjk fic #gojo x oc #gojo smut #satoru gojo #satoyura #my fics #i have no excuse for this one it's just pure smut #now let me go back to the angst of the main story #i just thought i could post this here too why not #now that i posted satoru's apartment that i made in ts4 you can see where this fic takes place (͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

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secondarily-firstly · 2 days

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Requested by @arrloww (Hehe yay! First request!)

Kyle Garrick x genderfluid!insecure!Reader

unedited | sfw | “Monster in the Closet” | Masterlist

Themed around Reader’s discomfort with their body, so I’m counting it as a warning

Might make a part 2 at some point with actual comfort but here’s something for now (I gotta relearn how to write fluff tbh :/)

It’s not very good — I haven’t written in a WHILE

Standing before the long mirror in your room, which had long ago been hidden behind the door to conceal it, the breath in your lungs just felt…stale.

A shirt too baggy to fit your figure. The folds of the cloth extending in a halfway decent crumble around hips far too shaped for displeasure. An uncomfortable feeling of suffocation around your neck from the collar, and you tug on it twice to try and loosen it. Eyes drifting down to the way the shirt also draped over your chest…

You let out a soft groan as you tucked the mirror back behind the door, eyes catching yourself one last time. Wearing a face, and a body, that just…didn’t feel your own.

The evening was supposed to go well. You’d been chiding yourself to live up to its expectations all week, knowing full well that you likely still would let both yourself, as well as your boyfriend, down.

He had gotten back this morning, and of course the first thing he’d done upon walking through that door, was to bring you into his arms. Holding you tight against his chest, one arm around your waist to draw soft shapes into your back, the other raised over your shoulder to gently hold the back of your head against his cheek. In that moment, his warmth, as well as his love, had bathed you in familiarity you’d so rarely feel when he was deployed. He loved you. Oh, how he loved you.

The glitter of the exchange melted away into a comfortable setting, by the time he’d kissed you. Smiling against your lips as he always did, with each little kiss across your lips, cheeks, and forehead. With one final kiss to the tip of your nose (“because it’s such a cute nose, sweet’art!”) and a stroke of his thumb across your cheek, he disappeared into the bedroom to shower and dress down to his casuals.

Which was how you got to where you are now, standing hiding from the mirror as though it were the monster in your closet, dressed in a shirt that felt too big, pants too long, fighting your hair without a mirror to prepare for a night in with your boyfriend.

You smile when he emerges from his shower, a towel held around his waist with a sheepish grin, walking past you to grab a set of clothes from his closet. You only watch, giving him a soft look. Eyes he’d fallen in love with long ago.

You loved him. He loved you. But oh, how you sometimes wished you could love yourself. The way he so shyly ducked back into the bathroom upon emerging in such undress…as though he had something to hide. He was beautiful, you thought. A beautiful man. With a warm smile and eyes that always seemed to carry with them a sense of ease. Soldier or not, sergeant or not…he was your Kyle. Your beautiful Kyle.

You look down at yourself again, bottom lip between your teeth. Pulling uselessly at the hem of your shirt, and tugging up the waistband of your pants. Awkwardly shuffling your feet as you glance up at the bathroom door. You hear shuffling, and the sound of the sink running so he could wash up his face. A routine you could recite with ease. You wondered how he could face that mirror so easily every time, sometimes just watching him get ready for his days, or for dates. In awe of how easy it seemed to him. An ease you wished you could possess as well.

The bathroom door opens, and your smile returns to your face. Hands at your sides, as though they weren’t just tugging at your clothes, or pushing around skin you’d grown to hate. Marks of old pain or old habits which had long since grown numb to your abrasive touch. A body you wished could just go numb with them sometimes.

You meet his eyes, and he meets yours. That smile on his lips lighting up the room, and he opens his arms for you again.

The glitter in his eyes just makes it so hard to tell him no.

#Unedited #call of duty #kyle gaz garrick #cod gaz #kyle garrick x reader #Genderfluid reader #x genderfluid reader #reader insert #If I’m missing tags pls let me know #Seconds writes

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compacflt · 10 months

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icemav going on a cinema date?

i have thought about this one long and hard and: i don’t know how to write a one-shot about this that is compelling & interesting. But i CAN tell you ice & mav most assuredly DID go see titanic together when it came out 1997, probably as a joke, lots of semi-ironic “it’s a date!”s, and then left the theatre together three hours later overwhelmingly depressed & speechless

#they WERE holding hands halfway through too #and lots of self conscious posturing outside the theatre every time they go to a movie together #deciding how they’re gonna buy two tickets together and have it NOT look like a date to the cashier #‘okay. lll buy foxtrot eight; five minutes later you go up and buy foxtrot nine.’#’but what if foxtrot eight and nine are taken?’#‘then we’ll get echo eight and nine. failing that; golf eight and nine. i won’t do delta my eyes arent good enough anymore to sit in row D’#pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #icemav #asks #the navy ‘i like big boats & i cannot lie’ mindset…

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swinging-stars-from-satellites · 2 years

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out in the park we watch the sunset,,,, talking on a rusty swingset,,,, after a while you went quiet and I got mean,,,,

#truly this song is the EPITOME of living in liminalities #like... I'm having so many feelings about it rn #thinking about that time my sister and i sat on a KOA playground swingset until after dark #while our parents got dinner bc i was thinking too hard about 19th century french literature and my sister wanted freedom #which themes tie to each other very well. i should play her do you hear the people sing #thinking about our mom coming over halfway through sunset to push my sister on the swings and i just kicked myself higher #and higher until i lost my hat. thinking about the sunset that night on the swingsets and crossing the park back to our site #and making my sister hold my hand bc i was 16 and nervous and there were too many people around #but on the swings....#sometimes i think i could write poetry

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fairy-angel222 · 2 months

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𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐎 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐁𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

— warnings: size kink, cervix fucking, belly bulge, creampie/breeding, throat fucking

𓆩♡𓆪 — Who tie your smaller frame to their bed, their body almost twice the size of yours as they stand over you, their eyes dark with lust at how vulnerable you look.

Who lower themselves onto you as they measure the length of their cock with your body, whistling lowly before looking you in your eyes with a sinister smirk.

“Shit baby, think you can take it?”

Who watch as your eyes widen with a quiver as you tugged at your restraints, only blinking up at them through your lashes with an incoherent mumble, your wet pussy clenching around nothing in anticipation.

No matter how many times you guys did this, you still never got used to how big they were. After all, they were practically a tower next to you, and their dick was nothing short of that size.

“Sorry sweetheart.” they laugh. “forgot you were gagged.”

𓆩♡𓆪 — Who make you watch with teary eyes as their cocks bulge visibly in your stomach. Only halfway in before you’re crying, whining about it being too much. You get so full. Your mewls loud and broken as you moan their name.

𓆩♡𓆪 — Whose cocks still grow when they’re hard, swelling within the warmth of your walls. Who beg for you to take it. Telling you how good you were doing and how happy it would make them if you take them all the way. Take them deep.

𓆩♡𓆪 — Who love when you make them bleed, sharp nails scratching down their backs as you try to adjust around them, tearfully wincing at the sting that came with it.

𓆩♡𓆪 — Who love to stuff their fingers down your throat while encouraging you to ride them, their hands on your waist as they guide you up and down just the beginning of their length.

𓆩♡𓆪 — Whose thick fingers fill you like a second dick, making you cry out loudly as they pushed against that spongy spot. Cooing at you and telling you to take it as their fingers harshly curl into you. Thrusting mercilessly until you’re squirting all over their hand with a scream.

𓆩♡𓆪 — Who fuck you in every position and against every wall or surface.

Their mouths on your clit and tongues lapping up the wetness between your folds with your legs spread on their shoulders, strong hands being the only thing holding you up.

Their feet planted into the floor as they bounced you on their cock. Folding you like a sex doll by holding your bent knees flush against your chest, roughly lifting you off and back onto their cock. Loud sobs filling the room as their mushroom shaped tip pierced painfully past your cervix, your moans high pitched as your cheeks stain with tears.

𓆩♡𓆪 — Who always have to be so careful with you, knowing they could easily break you even if they didn’t mean too.

𓆩♡𓆪 — Whose hands are twice the length and width of yours, easily pinning both your wrists above your head when during sex.

𓆩♡𓆪 — Whose big hands easily bruise your delicate skin, your neck always painted purple and blue from him accidentally choking you too hard. Who engulf you with their body in a tight hug to apologize, kissing your head and promising you that they didn’t mean to hurt you.

𓆩♡𓆪 — Who groan when you try to suck them off. Your plump lips stretched around their fiery red tip, slobbering down their thick length. Who get off to your struggle, cock twitching with a loud groan when you look up at them innocently. Trying (and failing) to take their cock all the way, your eyes welling with tears when it pushes to the back of your throat.

Who shoot their cum straight into your awaiting mouth. Watching you gag softly as the liquid forces itself down your throat, trickling down the sides of your lips when you smile up at them. Sticking out your tongue to show that you swallowed it all, their thumb running over your bottom lip before letting their spit fall into your awaiting mouth.

𓆩♡𓆪 — Who get so carried away by how snug your pussy feels around them. Unknowingly bullying their cocks deeper and deeper. Their brain so foggy that your loud choked cries don’t even register.

Who when riding them, accidentally force you to bottom down. Your salty tears clouding your vision as you sob out that you can’t take it— that they’re so deep and it hurts. That you can feel them fucking past your cervix. Who know that you’re only able to whimper and mewl when the pain turns pleasurable, groans sounding from the back of their throat as their eyes fixed on their tip’s imprint on your belly. Who continue to jerk themselves off with your tight pussy, voice deep and raspy as they praise you for taking it all.

𓆩♡𓆪 — Who love when you ask them to be rough with you. Toss you around and slap you when you talk back. Who slam their hips into you with no care, telling you to shut up and take it or they’d leave you empty instead. Who choke you while fucking into you, digging their fingers into your cheeks to shut up your constant cries, scoffing and spitting in your face when your tears begin to fall.

Who bruise your pussy and your neck for days to come, purple and red littering your skin from you being used as nothing but a flesh light. Eventually passing out as orgasm after orgasm was forced from your swollen, aching and sensitive cunt.

𓆩♡𓆪 — Who make sure to check up on you afterwards, not letting you sit or walk on your own because they know how sore they left you. Happy when you keep reassuring them that you wanted it, like the fact that they were so rough.

𓆩♡𓆪 — Who smirk at the jealous looks you get when he walks hand in hand with you in public, people whispering to each other about the extreme height difference.

𓆩♡𓆪 — Who love when you wear their clothes, snuggling into the softness of his hoodies that swallow you whole. The pieces of fabric being sizes too large on your body.

𓆩♡𓆪 — Who love when you melt into their lap, muscular arms around your waist as they kiss down your neck softly. Whispering words of praises into your ear with his hot breath fanning against your skin.

“God i love you so much.” they smile, “My pretty little baby.”

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yuutx · 1 month

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ೀ ׅ ۫ . 𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐊 ! (𝒢𝐸𝒯𝒪 𝒮𝒰𝒢𝒰𝑅𝒰)

geto suguru x f!reader ﾉ 18+ content. ﾉ nsfw + unprotected sex / raw sex ﾉ size kink ﾉ huge size difference ﾉ orgasm denial ﾉ ddlg dynamics ﾉ creampie ﾉ passing out / unconsciousness ﾉ mdom + fsub ﾉ not proofread ! ૮꒰◌´ତ `◌ ꒱ྀིა‎

i dnt know what exactly happened but i must confess that 2day i caught feelings for sugu . . out of the blu . . 4 no reason . . i am hopelessly in love with the geto sugubaby. shbdhn he makes me feel fuzzy, okay ? ! ♡ + ↻ are rlly appreciated ! !

You choked on a hiccup, dewy eyes peering up at him, the tears clinging to your lashes, a few fat drops sliding down your cheeks. Your quivering lips parted to speak, but the words stuck in your throat. It was difficult to focus on anything but the thick, pulsating cock stuffed inside of you. Geto smiled down at you, the expression almost tender, a stark contrast to the lewd way his hips rocked against yours. "Come on, pretty, don't keep quiet." He said, his voice soft and reassuring. "Talk to daddy, tell him what you're feeling." He prompted, his cock throbbing deep inside of you, stretching you open. You let out a pitiful sob, the sound followed by a breathless whine. "I-I'm.. full." You finally managed to choke out, the word sounding foreign, as if it had slipped off your tongue without permission. "Full?" Geto questioned, his brow arching slightly, a hint of amusement flickering in his dark eyes.

He shifted, his cock dragging against your sensitive walls, your body jolting at the sensation. You felt dizzy, drunk off the feeling of his thick shaft spreading you open, the heat from his body emitting through his skin, warming you up. Your limbs trembled, your legs spread wide around his hips, his arms encasing you as he leaned down, his breath ghosting over your skin. "You're not full, baby, you're barely halfway." He chuckled, his lips brushing against your ear. You whimpered, a fresh wave of tears springing to your eyes, a shaky breath escaping you. "I'm n-not…I can't." You whispered, your voice trembling.

Geto shushed you, his fingers digging into your skin, the pressure painful, but somehow soothing. "Of course you can." He murmured, his tone gentle. He kissed the corner of your mouth, his tongue darting out to lap up the saltiness from your tears. You shivered, your hands clutching at the blankets beneath you, trying desperately to steady yourself, but it was a futile effort. You felt like a ragdoll, boneless and pliant beneath his strong frame, his massive cock buried inside of you.

"D-daddy.." You whispered, unable to keep the word from tumbling out of your mouth, your head spinning. You were sure you were going to pass out. Your entire body was tingling, every nerve ending alight, a fire blazing in the pit of your belly, making you feel feverish. "I know, I know. It's so big, isn't it?" You nodded, the movement slow and clumsy, your heart hammering against your ribcage. "You're taking it so well, my sweet girl." Geto cooed, his hips snapping forward, forcing his cock deeper into your cunt.

You cried out, your back arching off the bed, the pain mixing with the pleasure, making you feel delirious with ecstasy. You could feel the tip of his cock nudging against the entrance to your womb, the pressure making you squirm.

"So tight." Geto hummed, his thrusts becoming more insistent, his hands sliding up to grip your hips, holding you still. "Can't believe you can even fit this much of me in here. Daddy's proud, princess.." He chuckled, the sound sending a chill down your spine. Your breath caught in your throat, a small sob bubbling out of you, more tears spilling down your face. It felt like you were drowning, the sensations overwhelming, the feeling of him filling you up, stuffing you so full, so complete, was too much for you to bear. Your entire world was reduced to the way his cock stretched you open, the way his girthy length dragged against your slick inner walls, the way his happy trail brushed against your clit, sending sparks of pleasure dancing through your body.

"Daddy, daddy, daddy.." You babbled, your vision blurring, the sound of his voice fading away. You felt as if you were floating, drifting on a cloud of bliss, every inch of your skin tingling.

Geto hummed, his voice a distant murmur, the words washing over you. You felt weightless, a sense of peace and contentment washing over you, a wave of euphoria crashing over you, drowning you in its intensity.

"I c-can t-take it, I can take it, d-daddy.." You slurred, the words heavy on your tongue, your limbs turning to lead, your eyelids fluttering closed. "Course you can." Geto crooned, his hips rolling against yours, his cock pumping into you, a low moan spilling from his lips. "You're my good girl, aren't you? You were made for this, weren't you? Made for my cock?" And with a final thrust, his length embedded in you completely, your little cunt taking every last inch of him.

You couldn't tell if the darkness behind your eyelids was the result of unconsciousness, or if you were simply too dazed to open them. A dull ache radiated from your hips, your muscles protesting the position. But the pain was secondary, drowned out by the waves of ecstasy that rolled through you, making your limbs go slack.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your heart thudding loudly in your ears. You were vaguely aware of a wet, sticky warmth dripping down your thighs, a thick, heady scent filling the air. Geto's scent. His seed. The thought sent a shiver through you, a tiny whine escaping your lips.

"Daddy.." You whispered, reaching a hand out, blindly searching for him. You felt a large, warm hand wrap around yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I'm here, pretty. I'm right here." Geto murmured, the smile in his tone audible. You relaxed at the sound of his voice, letting out a contented sigh, allowing your eyes to flutter open, blinking the tears away, finally managing to focus on his face.

He was hovering above you, a lazy grin spread across his features. "Hey there, beautiful." He purred, his free hand reaching up to caress your cheek, wiping away the streaks of wetness. You stared up at him, unable to formulate a response, the words stuck in your throat. His expression softened, his thumb gently brushing against your bottom lip. "My good girl. Such a sweet thing. Taking my cock so well. Such a good, perfect girl." He cooed, his tone almost reverent. You let out a weak, breathy giggle, the praise causing petals to bloom in your chest, a warmth blossoming in your stomach. Your gaze flickered to his face, drinking in his features, a small, shy smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. He smiled back, leaning down to press a soft kiss against your forehead, the gesture sending a jolt through you. You could feel the weight of him bearing down on you, his thick cock still buried inside of you, plugging up your little hole.

You moaned with need, the sound coming out as a breathless plea, your pussy clenching around him, the sensation eliciting a low growl from him. You gasped, arching up, seeking more contact, more friction. He smirked, a devilish glint in his dark eyes, his hips deciding a shallow roll, the tip of his cock brushing against the entrance to your womb. You mewled, bucking against him, grinding against his pelvis, desperate for release. He laughed, the sound rich and deep, the sound reverberating in your core. You whined in response, the noise catching in your throat, the sound turning into a keening cry as the pace of his thrusts picked up, his cock slamming into you, the force of the action causing your head to spin.

You writhed beneath him, your body trembling, a dull ache pulsing through your sore muscles. You could feel his gaze on you, hot and heavy, watching as you came apart, arousal juicing your folds, soaking the bed sheets. "You're such a messy little thing, aren't you?" He hummed, his voice laced with amusement, a hint of pride creeping into his tone. "All wet and dripping. Just for me." He purred, his cock pulsating, twitching inside of you, his fingers digging into your waist, his grip bruising. You could feel yourself unraveling, the coil in the pit of your belly threatening to snap, the pleasure building inside of you, the tension mounting. Your head was swimming, a rush of euphoria flooding your system, the heat pooling in your abdomen. "N-neeed- hic need t-to cum." Your voice cracked, broken words spilling from your mouth, his length driving you to the brink.

"Not yet, pretty. Not until I say so." He growled, his tone laced with a dangerous edge, his thrusts becoming rougher, more urgent. "Gotta be patient, yeah princess? Gotta wait for daddy to fill you up." He hissed, his voice taking on a strained note, his pace faltering, his movements stuttering. His breathing was ragged, his chest heaving, beads of sweat dripping down his brow, his jaw clenching. You could feel his cock pulsating, a tell-tale sign that he was close.

You squirmed, your hands grasping at his biceps, your nails digging into his skin, trying to anchor yourself. He groaned, his eyes squeezing shut, his grip on you tightening. "Fuck.. f-fuck, gonna cum, gonna cum in that pretty pussy of yours.. gonna make a mess of that tight cunt." He grunted, his thrusts becoming erratic, his hips snapping against yours, a desperate, primal hunger taking over.

His cock slammed into you, his tip jabbing against the entrance to your cervix, and finally, finally erupting that sticky, creamy goodness into your aching womb. His cum shot into you in thick, powerful ropes, painting the inside of your cunt, filling you up to the brim, coating your inner walls. You squealed, your body convulsing, screaming for permission, and when he gave you that last, guttural command, you came undone.

Your body went rigid, a choked cry spilling from your lips, your pussy clenching around his cock, milking him, the pressure unbearable. You felt as if your soul had left your body, the pleasure wracking through you, your entire body shaking, your mind going blank. Geto shuddered, his cock twitching inside of you, emptying himself deep into your core. You could feel his hot cum oozing out of you, the sticky fluid dripping down your thighs, a warm, syrupy sensation trickling between your legs. You gasped for air, your vision blurring, colors bursting before your eyes, fireworks going off in your skull.

"S' much c-cum..daddy.." You whined, the words catching in your throat, your voice trembling. Geto smirked, a low rumble of a laugh emanating from him, his gaze roaming over you, taking in the sight of your ruined body, your swollen, tender lips, the smear of mascara beneath your eyes. He smiled down at you, the expression a mix of adoration and smug satisfaction, his thumb tracing along the curve of your cheek, pads of his fingers grazing over your jaw. "Mhm.. so much, baby. I'm sorry. I can't help myself, you know that. So sweet, so innocent. I just can't control myself when I'm around you.." He purred, the words dripping with honey, his voice smooth and silky, sending shivers down your spine. "You make me want to do bad things. Naughty, nasty things." his dark eyes met yours, a wicked gleam flashing in them, the pupils dilated, nearly engulfing the irises.

"Like what, daddy?" You breathed, the words sounding distant, faraway. Geto smiled, his teeth glinting in the moonlight, the sight of him baring his fangs at you, a predator poised to strike, making your heart stutter. "..Why don't i show you?"

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roxy-writes · 10 months

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virgin!konig x reader smut

virgin!konig who humps you fast and hard when he finally gets his cock inside you. it’s red and twitchy, and huge too. you knew he had to be packing, but you didn’t expect his cock to be that…overwhelmingly big. that being said, once he pops the tip in you need a second to adjust before you tell him he’s allowed to push in further, and poor konig is using every drop of self control he has to keep from pounding the shit out of you.

“you can keep going.” you tell him, and he’s just so excited, trying not to cum on the spot. he’s not even halfway in and you’re already thinking about how he’s so deep in you. you know there’s gonna be a bulge in your stomach from how big he is.

once you tell him he’s allowed to start moving, he breaks. his thrusts are sloppy, messy, and so fucking desperate. he’s already addicted to the way your hole wraps around him. he’s babbling in english and german, each word punctuated by powerful thrusts. you’re making the prettiest sounds, and it makes it hard for him to hold back. you can tell he’s not going as hard as he can, and you want it so bad.

you beg him to go harder. to let go and fuck you how you know he wants to. and it turns out, all it takes is a simple “bitte?” muttered from you in his native language, for him to lose control. you didn’t think he could go much faster, but you were so wrong. he’s moaning loudly. his cock is rubbing up against that soft spot inside you, the one that drives you crazy. before you know it, you’re cumming so hard your vision flashes white.

it doesn’t take long after that for you to feel him spill inside of you, filling you to the brim with his release. the feeling makes your eyes roll to the top of your head. he doesn’t pull out even after he’s rode his orgasm out, letting all the aftershocks rush through him. “can we stay like this for a while?” he asks, his voice hoarse and tired.

“mhm…” you mumble, about to pass out in his arms. as your eyes close, you look up and see konig’s large figure raising a hand to brush your cheek with his fingers, and you drift off quickly.

#konig x reader #konig cod #konig smut #konig x reader smut #cod smut #cod x reader #cod x reader smut

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ddejavvu · 2 months

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JAMES POTTER THE MAN THAT HE IS i wholeheartedly believe would spoil you so much and you’d make sugar daddy joke about him CONSTANTLY even if you were the same age

"Why has your aunt just told me I look too young to be your boyfriend?" James leans over to murmur against your ear, throwing a glance at your aunt who's currently indulging in another glass of wine that she doesn't need.

"I dunno," You shrug, "Older ladies are always saying things about the way people look for their ages."

"Your grandma frowned at me when I came in," James recalls with a groan, "Not necessarily angry, I don't think. Just confused."

"She's always confused," You scoff, "Don't worry James; no one else thinks I've robbed the cradle."

"Y/N," It's a cousin of yours this time, elbowing you hard in the shoulder and sitting down beside you like you're not huddled up privately with your boyfriend, "I thought the wallet you snagged was halfway to the grave already. 'This his son?"

"Wallet?" Your eyes narrow, nose crinkling at the accusation, "What are you talking about?"

"You said you had a sugar daddy," Your cousin scoffs, and realization hooks your stomach, dragging it down towards your feet through an ocean of blood, "We all thought you were gonna bring some war veteran tonight, this kid looks like he just graduated high school."

"I'm twenty-two," James rambles, scandalized, "Y/N, you told them I was your sugar daddy?"

"No! No, I told them ages ago - when we started dating, that I had a boyfriend but- I mean, I dunno, I've thrown around the term sugar daddy while showing off some of your more... extravagant purchases."

"Like the cruise," Your cousin helpfully supplies, "And the tennis bracelet, and the summer home."

"That was a rental," You hiss, "Jamie, I swear I've used boyfriend 90% of the time."

"We thought she was just being optimistic," Your cousin admits, a wrinkled grimace on their face as they rush to free themselves from the awkward conversation, "But- uh, good for you two, remember me in the will."

"Oh my god," James buries his face in his hands, "They thought I was ancient. They thought I was some pervert chasing after girls, throwing money at the ones who'd pity me enough to look my way."

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Jamie," You croon, taking his face into your hands and shooing his own away. He leans in desperately to the soothing kisses that you stick to his face, looking for all the world like he might die of embarrassment right here right now. For all that he moans and groans, he's tucked himself into your hold like a helpless infant, and you're happy to oblige his neediness.

"No more using the word daddy." James instructs, though he's not in a position to make orders while nestled securely in your protective grip, "Not unless we decide to take a leap of faith in the bedroom. God, no wonder your grandma was so disappointed when she saw me- I don't have enough wrinkles for her."

#james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #james potter one shot #james potter one-shot #james potter headcanon #james potter headcanons #james potter hc #james potter hcs #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter fic #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter dialogue #james potter fluff #james potter x reader fanfiction

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sukunasteeth · 2 months

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Picking You Up From Work

Sukuna leans on the bumper of his Camaro, hoping a drop of rain doesn’t land perfectly on the tip of his cigarette and snuff it out. He’s pretending not to watch the front door of your workplace, like an anxious dog waiting for his owner to come home, but it’s ten minutes past the time you said you’d be out, and he was ready to take you to his apartment and settle down for the night. It had been a long day- he wanted to forget it in the taste of your whimpering on his tongue.

Customers pass him on their way into your workplace. Sukuna wonders briefly what has them whispering to each other and sneaking glances over at him: the nearly sixty year old car or the man covered in tattoos leaning against it?

Fifteen minutes pass before he checks his phone again. It was unlike you to be late, you knew Sukuna had a pet peeve of not being on time and, despite how hairbrained you were, he knew you tried to meet him halfway. Looking over his shoulder, he peeks at the flowers sitting on the passenger seat waiting for you. If he had known you'd be a minute, he would have put a splash of water in the bottom of the flower wrap holding the bouquet together. He clicks his tongue in disappointment, hoping they don’t wilt by the time you get to them.

“I’m sorry, I have to get going-” Your voice chimes through the sound of the rainfall like a cleansing bell, bringing Sukuna’s attention snapping back towards the exit of your work.

You're standing halfway between his car and the building, directly in the middle of the parking lot. A man dressed in a similar uniform to yours is standing a little too close to you for Sukuna’s comfort.

He flicks the ash off of the end of his cigarette and takes a drag.

“Are you sure?”

It’s been a long day.

“We could go get some coffee and just hangout for a bit-”

A really long day.

Granted: working customer service you expected long days. Grating days. Days in which you questioned your faith in humanity. But, that all usually ended when you clocked out for the night and headed home. You could easily forget all of it at the door. Tonight, however, the annoyance of having to save face continues.

You had been trying to give this guy a hint all day as he followed you around, desperate to catch your attention and doing anything to gain a brownie point. It was really starting to tick you off.

Not only that, you knew Sukuna was waiting for you somewhere in the parking lot and it was only a matter of time before this man was decapitated before your very eyes.

Dammit, you just wanted to go home.

“I’m sorry, Sam. I’ve got someone waiting for me. Have a good night!” You try to wave him off, offering a polite smile before you turn your back to him.

"Who's waiting for you?" Sam calls out, still not catching the hint.

Before you can reply, a hand reaches around your waist, securing you to a familiar side- but you've been on edge all day, just waiting for your coworker to make one bold wrong move. On instinct, you snatch the wrist at your hip with a deathgrip before realization is able to save you.

Your eyes whip up to meet Sukuna's smirking gaze, his smile flashing into that serpentine grin that makes your fight or flight mode go off.

"Ohoho-" He chuckles, and there’s a mischievous darkness lurking beneath it.

"'Kuna!" You ease your grip immediately, cradling his hand in sympathy. Part of you is instantly relieved he’s here to sweep you away, and the other part is sweating over how he’s going to handle this situation.

Sukuna could be a bit possessive.

"Good grip." He purrs, snatching up your own hand instead and continuing his original plan of tucking you securely into his side. "You turned your back to the scum bag, though." He tsks quietly. "My brat should know better."

Sukuna easily turns the both of you around, lifting you slightly to move without tripping you. You’re forced to face your coworker once again, although you notice that your unease has dissipated with Sukuna next to you now.

“Is this...? A-Are you guys…” Sam sneers at Sukuna's sudden appearance, his poorly shaven lip curling up in disgust.

Sukuna merely hums in response, “Every night while you’re wet dreamin’ about it.”

“S-Sukuna!” You interrupt, squeezing his fingers. Heat burns in your ears and you can feel them going pink under Sam’s now incredulous stare. “Is… my… yes.” You finish quietly, trying to avoid either one of the men watching you. Letting people into your personal life was not something you liked to do, even though you're sure your fiance would love it if you screamed it from the rooftops.

“Aw,” Sukuna makes a fond, sentimental noise and you press your elbow into his rib cage when you hear a mischievous lilt to his tone.

“You and this guy?” Sam gives Sukuna an obvious once over, crossing his gangly arms over his chest in disapproval. “He’s not even your type!”

Oh.

Maybe this guy deserved a good beating.

Even you were too afraid to look at your fiance at that moment, you could tell by the look on Sam’s face that Sukuna wasn’t happy.

The scariest part about Sukuna getting angry, was the lack of reaction. There was no glaring. No muscles going rigid. No shouting. There was only this overwhelming sense of danger, like a prey animal realizing it was about to meet its predator.

Sam tries to fix it, sensing the murderous intent hanging in the air, but his ego still tries to bite: “Look, dude, I don’t mean any harm. I just think she needs a gentleman.”

…

Now that piques your interest.

You need a gentleman?

You almost completely forget about Sukuna for a moment, your head snapping in your coworker's direction with breakneck speed.

“Gentleman?” You repeat, scoffing. “Are you fucking kidding me? You’ve been breathing down my neck like a fucking animal in heat all day. Practically begging for half a second of female attention in any form you can get it and you’re standing here-after trying to follow me to my car like some fucking pervert- and you’re trying to tell me you’re a gentleman?”

When you try to take a step forward, you're reminded of Sukuna's unrelenting grip on your hip bone, holding you in place.

“Calm down- all I wanted to do was walk you to your car.” Your ill-favored coworker rolls his eyes, although you can sense his discomfort in the way he takes a few steps away from you. His ego speaks again, and you see red. “You don’t have to be such a bitch about it.”

What.

“Alright, alright” Sukuna is shoving something cold and jagged into your hands, distracting the sudden confused rage that washes over you. Before you can expel it, he unfastens his hand from around your waist and nudges you in the direction behind him. “Go start the car.”

You blink up at him, taken back by the entire situation. His keys dangle in your frozen fingers, clinking together.

Sukuna knows you're mad. Knows the only thing on your mind is curb stomping the man in front of you. And you know he won't let you get anywhere near that.

“Come on, Duckie.” He purses his lower lip in a mock pout when you don't turn to leave immediately. There’s something dark glittering behind the faux playfulness in his eyes, reassuring you that nobody was going to get off easy, asking you politely to turn your gaze from what he was about to do.

His calloused thumb sweeps over your fingertips, gliding over the deep red nail polish there. The kiss he presses against your knuckles is one meant for royalty. Soft and sweet. And incredibly persuasive. “I just got these nails done. Lemme keep ‘em pretty for ya.”

When Sukuna opens the driver side door and slides in, fifteen minutes have passed. There’s a smear of blood on his cheek that matches the one on his knuckles, the red catches his eye in the review mirror. He licks his finger, using his spit to try and wipe it off before he turns to meet you, smiling sweetly.

“What should we get for dinner?"

#jjk #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #fluff #?#I think #I just had this scene in my head #modern au #I feel like sukuna would be a car head #grease monkey sukuna #my writing

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luvrxbunny · 6 months

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hold it

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

Prompt: Pussy Slapping

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, piv, unprotected sex, praise, subspace but miguel doesn’t bring her back (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 1.4k

A/N: a few things- not a lot of Spanish cus people made me too nervous abt it. the prompt doesn't really factor into the story that much imo, sorry- not feeling super good abt this one tbh :( (not proofread)

He slaps you again and your teeth dig into your lip to keep your cries in. “Keep it in, sweetheart. I’m not breeding you so you can waste it all.” You nod frantically at him, aiming to please him as you clench all your muscles and try your best to hold his cum inside. You watch a satisfied smile spread over his face and his fingers come down to your pussy and spread your lips, watching your hole twitch. “That’s it. There we go, good girl.”

Your entire body is sensitive from how he’s been using you. He came home desperate to breed you and why would you refuse? Once he came in you though, he told you to hold it in, to keep all his cum inside you to ensure it takes, but your weak, post-orgasm body and your post-sex hazed brain couldn’t keep up.

You’re laying back on the pillows, one leg over his thighs and he’s sitting halfway between your legs. His eyes are stuck on your pussy, watching the way you quiver to hold his load in, especially with how he’s been teasing you. He’s mesmerized by the sight, some of his cum already leaking out, a small stream breaking through as you whimper at your lack of control.

You try to hold it in but eventually, your body gives up, too over-stimulated by his repeated slaps over your clit, the wet sound it makes when his hand connects with your pussy. He has this teasing, amused smirk on his face every time your body trembles after he hits you. You couldn’t handle it. Miguel grabs your thigh that’s in his lap and spreads you open further, watching as you twitch and let go, letting his cum slide out of you and onto his sheets. Then he slapped your pussy the moment he could see his cum sliding out of you.

“I told you to hold it.” His voice is stern, non-negotiable, and sends a shiver down your spine as you tense all your muscles again. He laughs quietly, low and teasing. “I’m just gonna have to fill you again.”

He tuts at you, gives a disappointed sigh, and crawls back between your legs. You’re deep in subspace, wanting nothing more than to please him and taking his sigh as real, genuine disappointment. Tears well in your eyes and you whimper your apology as he lines himself with your entrance. “M’ sorry, Miguel. I-” You’re cut off by him sliding inside you, forcing a sob-like moan to fall from your lips. His eyes snap to your face at the sound, he’s climbing up your body and cradling your face within seconds.

“What’s this? You wanna stop, sweetheart?” You shake your head vigorously and wrap all your limbs around him, holding him close to you, pressing all his warmth against yours, and leaving pleasured cries in his ear. “C’mon, talk to me, amor.” He hasn’t moved inside you but his hands haven’t stopped caressing your body. He slides up your back to the base of your neck and gently pulls you away from him. Your eyes are closed, little tears resting on your lashes, chipping away at his heart. You sniffle once and try to tilt up into him, forcing his cock to slide against your walls in the way only he can. Instead, he forces your hips back to the bed with a soft grunt and looks back at you expectantly. So you give in.

“Jus’ wanna be good for you, Miggy.” Realization, sadness, and relief course through him. He hadn’t noticed you were so far gone, too caught up in his own mission, his need to fill you again and again, but the fact that he missed your needs because they were clouded by his own sends a pang of hurt through his heart. He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead, nose then lips. You moan sweetly against him, hands instantly coming up to tangle in his hair and pull him closer to you. He pulls away and gives you one more kiss before looking deep into your eyes. “You’re always good for me, sweetheart. You’re doing so well for me, baby.”

He feels your clench on him at his words, a soft smile coming to his face at your predictability. You pull him closer to your face, just centimeters from his lips, and grind yourself up into him, earning a gentle moan from his lips. “See? So perfect, amor.” He thrusts into you, deep and hitting your G-Spot on his first try. His name comes out of your mouth as a shout, your nails dig into his back as you try and stabilize yourself.

His hips speed up, starting their more brutal pace, knocking any stray thoughts loose from your head. He’s fixated on your face, hyper-vigilant to your reactions, making sure you’re enjoying yourself, that he’s giving you everything you need. He’s already desperate to cum in you, his cock still sensitive from the load he gave you a few minutes ago. You’re letting out high-pitched, passionate moans into his room, filling the space with sounds of you and your soaked pussy. His cock twitches inside you at the sound and you feel it.

You let out a desperate moan and slam your lips into his, wet, needy, and messy. His spit ends up all over your face, you’re just trying to lick at him, into his mouth, over his lips, anything he’ll give you. Your desperation has his moaning raggedly into your mouth, his hips slamming into you harder, his tip bruising your cervix as he abuses it. “I love you so much, Miggy.” Your words stab arousal through him like a hot knife, slicing through his entire being. He collapses over you, groaning your name into your neck, almost deafening you with their volume.

You’re always so soft for him, it’s almost painful how much it turns him on. He’s been slapping and abusing your pussy all night and you’re still so in love. You re-angle his head, forcing him to focus on you, watching the love that you’re pouring into your gaze. It’s making his balls tingle, and tense when they slap against your ass. “Te amo más bebé” His moan is smooth with the words as they slide from his mouth.

(“I love you more, baby”)

His muscles draw tight as he cock twitces inside you. “M’gonna fill you up. Gotta-” He tilts your hips toward him, forcing his cock deeper, pressing into your cervix almost painfully and he whimpers at the feeling. “-llegar tan profundo como pueda. Make sure you can keep it all in, bebé.” His hips begin to stutter and shake against yours as you tighten endlessly around him. You’re so out of it, all you can feel is the pleasure he’s giving you and your orgasm that’s about to snap in your stomach. Miguel grinds into you one more time, shaky, slow, and hard. You’re cumming around him. You moan a garbled version of his name, so loud and wrecked you barely recognize your voice in your ears. The sounds are ravaging Miguel though, they’re sending shocks through his body and he suddenly can’t hold on any longer.

(“-get as deep as I can”)

He hunches over you, forcing his cock deeper, sending a new explosion of pleasure through your body with the sensations. He’s flooding your wet heat, painting you, coating your walls completely in his seed as he moans your name into the sex-scented air. He mutters love notes to you on repeat as he lets out rope after rope of cum into you. He’s breathing in his shaky breaths along with the scent of your hair as he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head and pulls out slowly. You whimper at the loss of his stretch and it oddly warms his chest, that you still want him after he’s been with you since he got home.

He grabs a little towel on the side of the bed and wipes himself down before turning to do the same to you. Only to find you with your fingers buried deep inside yourself. He would be hard again if he had anything left in him. He basically runs back to your side, wanting an explanation but instead getting an even more erotic scene. Your eyes are on his, looking like you’re pleading for something and he can’t decipher what. “What is it, baby? Are you okay?”

You nod at him eagerly and little tears well in your eyes. “M’keepin’ it all in for you, Miggy.” He’s stunned to silence at your words, unable to believe how deep you are. “Tell- Tell me I’m good—? I’m- Am I being good?”

He almost passes out. He feels his sensitive cock fattening up again. Apparently, he does have something left in him.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

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