#they’re like swatting me away | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

augustinewrites · 1 year

Note

does gojo ever freak out or worry ab reader when she’s alone on missions? obviously she can handle herself & knows what she’s doing, but he gives the vibes that he’d be internally panicking 😭

“hey, welcome back!” gojo grins, quickly shoving a half melted spatula to the bottom of the trash can.

“hi,” you murmur, tipping the bill of your cap down as you close the door behind you. odd. he doesn’t think he’s seen you wear a hat before.

“how was it?” he asks, flicking off the stove and closing in to welcome you properly with a kiss. well, he attempts to. you immediately take a step back, avoiding his embrace. he definitely doesn’t remember a time you’ve ever done that.

“i’m all sweaty,” you tell him, toeing your boots off and heading straight toward the bedroom. you say hello to the kids before shutting the door, the lock clicking into place.

“are you mad at me?” he asks as soon as he warps into the room.

“satoru!” you startle, staggering back into the door. “get out!”

“nope,” he hums, closing in on you. “we sleep in the same room and you know that i don’t respect boundaries.”

with that, he reaches over and pulls the baseball cap off your head.

“satoru, please don’t freak out—”

he freaks out.

he grabs your chin so you can’t turn away, inspecting the sutures lining your temple. “this is deep! are you okay? why were you hiding it from me?”

you swat his hand away, frowning. “i’m fine, and i wasn’t hiding it. i just didn’t want the kids to see. speaking of, did you guys eat dinner yet?”

“what grade curse was it?”

“special. i thought i smelled something burning—”

“you’re only grade one. why would they—”

“only grade one?” you repeat with a scoff. “don’t say it like that. you know the only reason i’m not special grade is because the zenin’s—”

“because the zenin’s are holding you back until you join them. they’re dicks, babe. that’s old news,” he finishes, tapping his foot impatiently.

“listen,” you tell him, pinching the bridge of your nose. “i just didn’t get out of the way fast enough. it’s just a cut. i’ve had worse.”

“well, next time they call you up for assignment, i’m coming with you,” he decides. “we’ll get a sitter for the kids and make it like a date night.”

“whoa,” you interrupt. “you’re inviting yourself on my assignments now? “do you think i’m not good enough?”

“well when you come home hurt, yeah!”

he regrets it as soon as he says it.

and he hates the way you’re looking at him. you’re hurt, and it shows. “wow. thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“hey…”

he says your name, reaching for your hand, but you pull away, shaking your head.

_____

freshly showered and changed, you pull your robe on, exiting the bathroom. gojo’s sitting on the bed, waiting with his head in his hands.

“you know i think you’re more than capable,” he says quietly. “i wasn’t making a dig at your skill. you’re incredible.”

“i know,” you hum, dumping your uniform into the basket.

he looks up at you, apologetic. “but if anything happened to you, and you were really hurt…it would be my fault.”

“that’s not true,” you say quickly, sitting beside him.

“it is,” he insists. “and i could never forgive myself, because i’m supposed to be the strongest.”

(and what’s the point of being the strongest if he couldn’t protect the people he loved most?)

“satoru,” you murmur, smoothing a hand across his back. “you have such a big heart. i’m dating you because of your heart— well, mostly your abs but also your heart. ou already take on so much for everyone. and i need you to trust that i can’t take care of myself. i don’t want to be another burden to you.”

wordlessly, he takes your hand and presses it to his chest, so you can feel his heartbeat.

“you are my whole heart. if i lost you and i could have stopped it, like i could’ve stopped—” he purses his lips, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. “i just can’t lose you.”

“and you won’t,” you promise, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “now let’s go have dinner.”

“ah. about that….”

_____

“alright, dinner’s served!”

you the kids exchange a look.

megumi leans close to you, whispering, “can we get sick from this?”

“go on,” satoru encourages, picking up his own sandwich. “it’s a spam sandwich! i used to eat these all the time before i met—”

“you’re really lucky you met her,” the twelve year old grumbles, peeling the bread back to look at the burnt piece of spam.

tsumiki, ever the people pleaser, takes a bite and chews very thoroughly before swallowing with great effort.

“um…the smoke added a nice hickory flavour to the spam.”

“okay, we’re getting pizza,” you decide, shooting your boyfriend an apologetic look.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk drabbles #jjk angst #keeping up with the fushigojos #keeping up with the fushigojos: extended cut!

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strang3lov3 · 4 months

Text

Lather

(Inspired by our curly, long-haired Pedro with his broken wing) When Joel injures his shoulder, he needs your help washing his hair and getting off 🧴🧻💦🧼🚿🛀(4k)

Part one of a new mini series!!

Tags- shoulder injury, forced proximity, hair washing, handjobs, blowjobs, Joel finishes little too early, sexual tension, masturbation, pissed off joel, impish reader as per ushe. Joel starts out soft and gentle, this will not last long. Just you wait for part two, mwahahahahah!!

A/N- This new series is written for and inspired by my very dear friend @noxturnalpascal , please do not eat Pedro’s fucking hair. I’m begging you. And thank you @tightjeansjavi for the title name!!

Generously edited by my dear friend, the lovely @papipascalispunk

You’re at the dinner table, watching Joel awkwardly cut his chicken and potatoes with the side of his fork, held by his left hand. He brings the food to his mouth kind of slowly, deliberately, like he has to consciously think about where his fork will end up. He catches your watchful gaze and looks at you, “What?”, he scowls.

You shrug, “Nothing.”

“Quit lookin’ at me,” he huffs, “Creep.”

You’ve been living in Jackson with Joel and Ellie for quite some time now. Ellie’s got the garage and the downstairs bathroom to herself, you and Joel live in separate bedrooms upstairs. It works out. Kind of. The stairs are an issue. They’re old and steep, kind of slippery. It was only a matter of time before someone slipped and fell, and last week, that’s exactly what Joel did. Early one morning, he had misstepped and totally ate shit, landing hard on his right shoulder. You rushed to help him, but Joel shrugged you off, insisting he was fine. But you could hear in his voice he wasn’t, how he strained to speak. And in the following days, you noticed how his routine changed in the aftermath of his injury. He’s been favoring his right arm heavily, eating, cooking, opening doors, picking things up all with his left hand, rarely his right.

Ellie gets up from the table to rinse her plate. When she passes you and Joel on her way back to the garage, she stops next to Joel and just stares at him, a look of confusion and disgust on her face. She reaches her hand forward, pushing her fingers slowly through his hair and watching the curls stand up straight. Joel freezes before turning to look at her, perplexed and irritated. “What’s the matter with you?”, he asks.

“Gross,” Ellie giggles, still playing with his hair. He swats her hand away.

“Yeah, shut up,” Joel grumbles, “You’ll have gray hair one day too. It ain’t that funny.”

“I’m not talking about the color. Your hair is disgusting, Joel. It’s like, sticking straight up. Are you hydrophobic or something?”

“Leave me alone,” Joel tells her, “Go do something. Go play in traffic.”

“You smell like you’re hydrophobic,” Ellie retorts as she continues towards her room.

You turn your attention back to Joel, who looks insulted. Subtly, he turns his nose to his armpit to smell himself and then checks his reflection in the window, using his left hand to mess with his curls. He notices you staring at his reflection as well, “Don’t you know it’s rude to stare?”, he asks defensively as he messes with his hair a little more, flipping the mess to one side of his head, then to the other, rubbing the strands between his fingers. Joel sighs deeply then, gets up from his seat, and – using his left arm – he drags his chair across the kitchen and sets it in front of the kitchen sink. “I need help,” he confesses in a tone hardly audible, like he’s sheepish and uncomfortable. Disappointed, too.

“What?”

“Washin’ my hair,” he speaks louder this time, “It’s hard with my uh…shoulder. I need your help.”

“Took you long enough to as–”

“Knock it off,” he interrupts. It was probably around day four post-staircase incident that you noticed Joel’s hair taking on a more dirty appearance. You stare at his hair a lot lately now that he’s growing it out for winter. His hair curls in all sorts of directions, little cowlicks all over his head. The ringlets at the bottom of his neck are your favorite part. How gorgeous they look with the multitude of colors on his head. Deep, chocolatey brown with highlights of caramel and silvery gray streaks. With resources being fairly scarce even in Jackson, Joel doesn’t wash his hair every day, which is honestly fine for him. However, the days that he does wash his hair, he struggles to scrub his scalp properly with just his left hand, hence the dirty and greasy appearance. And really, it doesn’t look that bad. Probably feels worse for him, though, all that schmutz built up. Probably itchy and uncomfortable.

You take your plate to the kitchen sink and give it a quick wash before drying it and putting it away. Joel sits in the chair he’s placed in front of the sink, and reaches behind himself for the dish soap, then kind of just puts it in your hand. You look at Joel, tilting your head in confusion. Sure, it's slim pickings for resources, but there’s a reason you’re close with the soapmaker here in Jackson. It’s the little things that keep you going; one of the little things being fruity scented shampoo that the soapmaker hooks you up with.

You place the soap back on the kitchen counter and leave quickly to grab your shampoo, then come back to meet Joel at the sink. Joel looks at the bottle of shampoo in your hand, “What the hell is that?”, he asks.

“My shampoo. It smells kinda like strawberries, see?”, you open the cap and squeeze the bottle to waft the scent towards him.

Joel scrunches his nose, “It’s too girly.”

“You’re too girly,” you taunt, and Joel rolls his eyes. “Beggars can’t be choosers. I’m washing your hair, so I get to pick the shampoo. It’s like a spa night,” you chirp happily.

“Nope, not a spa night,” he replies harshly, “Just wash my damn hair. No funny business.” When you stare down at him, unimpressed with his attitude, Joel backtracks, “Please,” he begs.

“Spa night.”

“Fine,” Joel sighs in defeat and leans his head back into the sink, scooting down the chair. He looks deeply uncomfortable already, putting his weight on the left side of his body and raising his shoulder up and away from resting on the sink. Poor guy. You turn on the sink and begin to run the water over his scalp with the detachable faucet, but Joel yelps in pain. “Hot, s’ way too hot,” he says loudly, craning his neck away from the stream.

“Sorry,” you apologize, quickly turning the faucet lever in the other direction.

“Cold, cold, Christ—cold,” Joel hisses as he reaches behind himself to try to haphazardly adjust the lever himself, swatting his hand violently. He ends up hitting your hand instead, resulting in you dropping the faucet on his forehead. He yelps again and quickly sits up straight, water flinging across the room from his wet hair. “This isn’t gonna work,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Think we need to get this over with in the shower.”

“I think that’d work better,” you agree.

So, you and Joel make your way upstairs, you’ve got your fruity shampoo in your hand. Joel’s wet hair drips down his neck and back as you follow him towards the bathroom where he turns on the shower, letting the water warm up. He shuts and locks the bathroom door before unbuttoning his flannel, again with his left hand only. Turning away from you, you watch Joel twitch and wince in pain as he tries to take off his undershirt. It kind of makes you sad, seeing him struggle like this. You wish he would have asked for help before now. “Joel?”, you tap his back.

“Hm?”, Joel turns around and you reach his right arm. “Oh,” he says. Carefully, you do your best to painlessly help him out of his shirt, pulling his sleeve towards your body and keeping his arm as low as can be. You pull the rest of the shirt off of his body, catching a glimpse of his torso, his soft, pillowy belly. “Thanks,” he mumbles.

“No problem.”

“I uh–,” Joel begins, turning away from you again and undoing his belt, “I’m gettin’ undressed and gettin’ in, okay?”

“Am I getting in there with you?”

“I’d reckon that’s probably easiest, yeah. And if ya don't wanna get your clothes wet, then you can take 'em off too,” Joel offers, “I don't wanna make you uncomfortable, so I'm keepin’ my eyes shut and facin’ the shower head the whole time so I don’t see anything I'm not ‘sposed to.”

“I appreciate that,” you reply. You’ve been through a lot with Joel, and truth be told, you’re both past the point of modesty, all that you’ve been through together. You have endless trust and respect for each other. Still though, you appreciate what he’s doing to keep you feeling safe and comfortable with him. A lot can be said about Joel, but he’s never been anything but respectful and considerate towards your safety and comfort. It doesn’t go unnoticed. “I’ll undress. Just give me a minute.”

“Not a problem,” Joel says. You face away from him as he takes off his belt, it lands with a clatter on the floor. Next his jeans and boxers, then each of his socks. You hear the sound of the shower curtain moving and his heavy footsteps in the bathtub. “M’done. Eyes stayin’ closed now.”

“Okay,” you say as you look at Joel through the shower curtain, unable to see much. You have no doubt he is, in fact, squeezing his eyes shut, but you smile to yourself when you notice where his arms lie. They’re resting across his body, his hands cupping his member securely. Oh, Joel. He’s a grump, but a gentleman nonetheless.

After taking off your own clothes and leaving them in a pile on the floor, you move the shower curtain aside and step inside of the tub. It’s a tight fit, despite being relatively spacious. There’s a built-in bench to the side of the shower where your soaps sit. Joel always complains you have too many lotions and potions taking up space, that they always fall on his toes when he bathes. Dramatic.

Immediately you’re in awe of Joel’s beauty. You can’t see his face, but you can see his back, freckled and scarred and striped with stretch marks here and there. Water trails down his neck and his spine. You can’t help but steal a peek of his ass, so firm and plump. He’s blessed, truly.

“Doin’ okay?”, Joel interrupts your thoughts.

“Oh– yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Gonna shampoo you now.”

“Get to it,” he tells you.

You reach for your strawberry shampoo and squeeze a small amount into the palm of your hand, then reach up to lather it into Joel’s scalp. “I need you–”, using your hands to guide Joel to tilt his head back, “Yeah, like that. Thanks.”

“Mm,” he hums in response.

You begin to wash Joel’s hair, building up a thick lather of bubbles. You pay special attention to the sides of his head, down towards his neck, scratching and massaging his scalp. It’s almost imperceptible, but you hear a slight groan, a soft exhale of relief as you scrub Joel’s head. Washing the hair near his neck, you toy with his curls, wrapping them around your fingers and watching them bounce and swing when you pull your hands away. You’re about to reach for more shampoo when you really see it– the bruise on his shoulder. It’s yellowing now, but there are still purple and blue splotches of his skin. “Fuck, Joel,” you mumble, tracing your fingers lightly over his bruise.

“Yeah, yeah.”

It was an accident. You know this, so you’ll spare Joel from your long-winded lecturing about taking care of himself. Instead, you just press a soft kiss to his bruise.

“You– I um–”, Joel clears his throat, a little bashful now, “Need you to wash up by my hairline, f’ya wanna come up front here.”

“Yeah, of course,” you speak softly. You begin to scoot past Joel, but the tight fit of the two of you in the shower makes it difficult to move. You slip and reach for Joel’s arm.

“Careful,” he warns you softly, “Here, I gotcha.” Joel, still keeping his eyes shut, holds your waist and helps guide you to stand in front of him. When you’re situated, he quickly protects his modesty once again.

You grab some more shampoo and reach for the front of his scalp. This time, you can admire more of him. His face, eyes scrunched tightly shut. Careful not to look at what he’s not supposed to. That little line between his eyebrows is more deep and prominent than usual. Water drips down the slope of his aquiline nose and his plump, rosy lips. Droplets cling to his wiry salt and pepper facial hair. He’s a work of fucking art. When Joel’s properly shampooed, you reach for the detachable shower head and start to rinse his hair, watching the strands fall on his forehead.

You’re not sure exactly what happens, but in an instant, Joel is unexpectedly groaning and reaching for the shower head from your hand. You step back and watch him scramble to wipe his eyes and blink quickly. “Fuckin’, ahh,” he hisses, “Got soap in my eyes. Jesus.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“S’okay, was an accident. Fuck,” Joel hands you the shower head and then wipes his eyes a few more times before he stops and stares at you before him, not even thinking about his rule. Fuck. He shuts his eyes quickly, but the damage is done. His mind is swimming with images of your body, the drops of water rolling down the curves of your breasts, your hips, thighs. His cock hardens almost instantly, and he hurries to cover himself again. “Fuck. I’m sorry. It’s not cause of you.”

“Okay, Joel,” you reply calmly.

Joel groans. “No, it’s not like that, you– you’re– it’s…My shoulder’s been hurtin’, y’know how it’s been.”

“Mhm,” you hum, knowing where he’s going with this, “It’s okay.”

“Haven’t been able to take care of myself, uh…in that regard,” Joel clears his throat before continuing, “So I’m just a little wound up– oh–”

Joel’s interrupted when you step forward, reaching for his wrists to pull them away from his member. “I get it,” you whisper, “I can help with that too, if you’d like.”

“Jesus, fuck–”, Joel hisses as you touch his hips, his thighs, skating your fingers along his skin. He moans softly when your fingers lightly touch his heavy balls, the base of his cock, then trailing them up his shaft. “Quit– fuck – quit teasing me, hon. Not a smart idea.”

“I’m not teasing you, Joel.”

Except Joel’s not listening. All he can think about is how fucking good it feels to be touched where he needs it most. He reaches for your hand, but doesn’t pull it away. Like he’s at battle with himself, doing what he thinks he’s supposed to do, not that he actually wants to. He wraps his fingers around yours, encouraging you to grip his cock tightly. But with his brow furrowed, he looks conflicted. “Don’t know what’s gotten into ya, but–”, he says shakily, “Hon– you gotta stop cause, fuck–”, he breathes, “Don’t think I have it in me– fuck – to walk away from you.”

“You don’t have to, Joel,” you coo quietly as you grip his cock tighter. You lean closer to Joel, wrapping one of your arms around his waist. Joel opens his eyes then, and you kiss his cheek, still stroking his cock. His thick head is nudging your hip as you work him, “Why don’t you let me help you with this?”

Joel nods, sighing in relief as he gives into you, gives into pleasure. He’s been hard as a rock all week. Left hand just doesn’t do the trick, but yours, your hand does just fine. “Lord have mercy,” he gasps, “Thank you.” Rubbing your hand up and down his cock, you kiss his neck, then lower, his collarbones and his chest. Lower still, sinking to your knees as you kiss down that soft and pillowy tummy of his, trailing your tongue along that patch of hair that leads to his cock. You take his thick base in one hand and his ass in the other, then press sloppy kisses to his blushed tip, flicking your tongue over his soft skin. “Sweetheart,” he warns softly, “Doin’ too much for me.”

“I don’t think so,” you tell him innocently before trailing your tongue along a prominent vein of his cock.

“I disagree,” he mumbles quietly. Oh, Joel. Silly Joel. As if you’d satisfy him with just your hands. But this is as much for you as it is for Joel. You’ve spent a lot of time daydreaming about him, kissing him and fucking him. He’s who you think about at night with your hand between your thighs. So no, taking him in your mouth is not too much. It’s what you both need.

Joel hums sweetly as you guide him to your mouth, his thick head parting your lips. You toy with him, swirling, flicking your tongue, alternating between taking him deeply and more shallow in your mouth. He’s warm and thick, just like you imagined. His cock feels heavy in your mouth as you take him deeper and deeper, hollowing your cheeks to massage him. You love his smooth skin, how he squirms and his hips stutter when you slide his cock to the back of your throat. As he gains more confidence, he begins to draw in and out of your mouth slowly, an action encouraging to both you and himself.

“Good god,” Joel groans as you work his shaft, one hand still squeezing his ass cheek, the other now fondling his balls, cupping and squeezing them gently. You hum against him, sending vibrations down his shaft. He reaches down, stroking your cheek with soft and warm eyes as you work him. His hand finds the back of your head, grunting as he inches you forward to take him deeper.

“Not lastin’ long the way you–”, he chokes out, a stuttered string of profanities following as you feel his cock stiffen and twitch under your tongue, spurting hot ropes of his spend down your throat. It’s salty and warm and masculine, taking you by surprise. His orgasm surprises himself, too. You don’t mind, though. In fact, it’s flattering the way he’s come undone for you so quickly, so desperately. Poor Joel, so worked up and bent out of shape all week. Probably part of the reason he’s been so cranky.

He takes heaving breaths above you, his chest rising and falling steadily as he stares down at you in admiration. He’s got the kindest eyes. When you pull off of his cock, he offers his hand to you, helping you back to your feet. He thanks you again, then apologizes for finishing how he did. You assure him that you don’t mind a bit. “M’not gonna leave ya high and dry, you know,” he says, “You just give me a few days to get myself right and I’ll take good care of you. Return the favor and all that good stuff. Hm?”

Sure, Joel, you think, nodding to him. He nods back at you, feeling good and satisfied, already dreaming about getting you off in a few short days. How soft and wet your pussy will be, pulsing around his cock, all for him. He’ll make you come just as hard as he did, if not harder. He can see it now, he’ll have you falling to pieces under his tongue and his fingers. He just needs to fucking heal first. While Joel’s been favoring his right arm quite a bit, he still hasn’t been taking it as easy as he should have been. But he’s got a woman waiting on him now, and healing is his top priority.

Joel smiles, you smile sweetly back at him as you wrap an arm around his waist for stability and set one of your feet on the ledge of the bathtub. His smile contorts into a confused frown as he watches you take your free hand and snake it between yours and Joel’s bodies, your fingers toying with your center. “Whatcha doin’?”, Joel asks.

“Oh, you know,” you reply plainly. You sigh softly, tilting your head back as one of your fingers circles your hole.

“No, no, no, no,” Joel protests, “No, thought you were gonna wait your turn.”

“My turn’s right now,” you breathe, now dipping a finger into your entrance, curling it and swirling it around. “You’re not the only one with needs.”

“I know you got needs, hon, thought we just agreed I’d be the one to take care of ‘em,” he tries, “Right?”

“It’s alright,” you purr, “I got it.”

It’s almost cartoonish, how Joel’s expression turns from one of satisfaction and bliss to betrayal and astonishment. “I don’t like this,” he mutters, “It’s teasin’ me, you know.”

“Oh, Joel,” you whimper softly, your fingers now rubbing over your clit, “What don’t you like?”

“Uh, that,” he spits, “Don’t like hearin’ you moanin’ my name when I’m not the one touchin’ ya. Don’t like that at all.”

You pout, “Oh, you can touch me,” you offer as you take his left hand into your own, sliding it up your body. He thumbs the plump underside of your breast and glides his fingers over your nipple, feeling it harden beneath his touch.

“Oh, real nice. You’re playin’ dirty,” he accuses, “You’re nothin’ but trouble. Shoulda known.”

You don’t bother replying as you begin to trace steady circles into your clit, dipping your fingers at your entrance to collect more of your arousal. Your fingers slip and slide through your folds with such ease.

Joel growls, squeezing your breast harshly one last time before his arm finds your waist and he pulls you flush against his body. With your head still tilted back as you whimper quietly, Joel takes the opportunity to kiss your neck, biting and nipping at your hot, dampened skin. It only fuels you. “Joel,” you cry, “Fuck, oh my god,” as that warm, sticky feeling deep in your gut is beginning to build.

Joel watches you, conflicted. How sweet his name sounds falling from your lips with your broken, honeyed moans, but Jesus, he needs to be the one touching you like that, not you. He should have known it’d turn out this way, that you’d revel in having this one-up on him. Your fucking audacity. I made you come so hard you saw stars, and I’m doing the same thing to myself. And you can’t do a single thing about it. Ha. Ha.

Joel holds you tighter when your cries begin to get louder as you reach your peak, your knees beginning to buckle. You moan frantically, loudly, and Joel watches you knit your brows together and your mouth drops open as you begin to fall apart. Your fingers massage your clit faster, harder, feeling that tension in your gut snap and splinter as waves of pleasure overtake you, washing over your body. With your eyes shut, you feel it deep in your stomach, down the back of your thighs, riding out your orgasm on your own fingers as Joel holds you close to his body.

When you finally open your eyes, Joel’s glaring at you. He says nothing. Deep down, he knew you’d probably end up taking care of yourself tonight, but in front of him? You’ve got some fucking nerve.

When your breathing slows, Joel lets you go. He stares at you, unimpressed, mouth slightly agape. You take the opportunity to slide two of your fingers past his lips, letting him taste your sweet arousal on his tongue. His brows furrow and his eyes flutter shut as he groans deeply, hungrily. “Seriously?”

You nod with a smile, then press a quick kiss on his lips before shimmying past him to reach for your towel. You dry off and step out of the tub, and when you look back at Joel, he wears a scowl.

“You’re the fuckin’ devil.”

#strang3lov3 #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller #the last of us #pedro pascal #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal joel miller #pedro pascal the last of us #pedro pascal x reader

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houseofceline · 5 months

Text

My Pretty Girl - T.N.

Foreign Touches and Breakfast in Bed

Pairing: Ravenclaw and sort of ditzy but talented Reader x Slytherin notorious playboy Theodore Nott

Warnings: Asshole Theo?

Summary: You wish you never woke up.

Author's Note: Hey guys! It's been a while, sorry for the wait but here it is!

< 6

__________________

“How much did you even drink last night?” Cho cringed holding your hair back as another round of vomit spewed out of you and into the toilet. You could feel your head pounding as you sat on the bathroom floor trying to calm yourself down. Waking up to a hangover and your period may be the worst combination known to man, or really women. Thankfully there were no classes today.

“Too much,” you breathed in and out, making sure there was nothing else coming up.

“Come on, we need to go to breakfast, you need to eat something.” Cho tried helping you up as you gripped onto the sink for support.

You were not ready to go out in public like this. Bed hair, snippets of last night makeup look in the form of smothered mascara on your cheek, and a million knives stabbing your uterus. Definitely not a pretty sight. Plus, you did not want to see any of the boys after last night incase of something embarrassing you might’ve done while out of it.

“I don’t wanna go,” you groaned as you flopped on your bed and curled up into a fetal position.

“You have to eat something Y/n,” Cho spoke softly as she ran her fingers through your hair, trying to flatten it.

“I’ll eat later.” You grumbled closing your eyes, menstruation already tiring you out.

“I’ll be back,” Cho said as she left the room, but you were too tired to say anything as you slipped away to dreamland.

___________________

A foreign touch on his chest causes Theo to stir awake in confusion.

What the hell.

He blinked a few times, allowing his vision to clear up.

Seeing the fake blonde from last night he groaned.

“Why are you still here?” He mumbled, swatting her hand away from him as he scooted further away from her.

“What do you mean baby? We don’t have classes today silly,” Hannah replied as she sat up, still nude from late night activities.

“Right, so the last thing I want on a free day is to see your face. Get out.” Theo mumbled hoping she’d leave so he could sleep so more.

“Theo baby, don’t be so mean,” she spoke, reaching out for him again causing Theo to sit up in a huff.

“You know the deal, you were supposed to be out before I even woke up,” he ignored the nasty feeling of her calling him cringey pet names.

“Theo we don’t have to be like this.”

“My name is Theodore,” he stated as he got up and got dressed.

He sighed as he picked up her clothing items off the floor and threw them at her.

“I’m leaving since you won’t. But I advise you to wake up before Malfoy does, you know he doesn’t like you.” Theo said as he walked out, ignoring the gasps of surprise when her bra landed in her face.

What an annoying girl.

He walked to the Great Hall, deciding that he might as well grab breakfast since he was awake.

“Did you fuckers seriously eat all the sausages?” Theo scoffed as he took a seat in front of Mattheo.

“What the fuck did you want me to eat? Those nasty ass muffins?” Blaise replied as he passed a goblet of orange juice to him.

“HEY! They’re not nasty,” Lorenzo spoke up with crumbs falling out of his mouth.

“Buddy you’re getting it all over me,” Mattheo shoved the boy next to him with a scoff before glancing over at Theo.

“Fun night huh?” Mattheo raised a glass towards the bruise-like mark on Theo’s neck.

“Fuck are you serious?” Theo groaned as he rubbed the side of his neck.

“I knew I’d regret it, she’s been so possessive lately,” Theo rolled his eyes as he continued eating breakfast.

“Well I mean you’re always going back to her, maybe she thinks something will happen between the two of you,” Mattheo responded while Theo laughed in response.

“She’s a Hufflepuff, you know only Slytherin girls are worth dating.”

Mattheo frowned as Lorenzo looked up from his breakfast.

The whole table fell silent as Lorenzo finished chewing his muffin, “Y/n’s a Ravenclaw. I don’t think she lacks anything compared to Slytherin girls.”

“Yeah in fact I think she looked better than any Slytherin girl last night,” Mattheo mumbled, causing Theo to look up in surprise.

“She was there?” He gaped, suddenly feeling like he was going to throw up.

Lorenzo rolled his eyes knowing that Theo had no right to even care if she was there or not. Mattheo and him had begun to care for the girl as if she was their baby sister and at first they were rooting for Theo, but now they weren’t so sure anymore. They had thought that she could be the one to make Theo better. After all it was him who had shown interest first, it was him who had begun to change because of her. She was the first girl Theo had ever described without using compliments that didn’t mean anything. Never spoke about how hot her body was instead ranted to the two boys about how angelic her face looked while she studied and how she smelled like flowers and vanilla. Not only cared about what was on the outside but on the inside as well, bragging to the boys about how talented she was and how cool her nail designs were. That is the same boy who had his eyes set on someone else last night, and the thought of it even made Lorenzo want to either cry or punch him.

“Yeah but don’t worry, she didn’t need your company,” Lorenzo scoffed as he continued to eat his breakfast again.

Lorenzo isn’t the type of person to show any resentment or hold any grudges, so Theo definitely knew he might’ve messed up.

But before Theo could say anything, a familiar face approached up behind Mattheo and Lorenzo.

Following Theo’s gaze the two boys turned around and greeted the girl.

“Chang! What’s up?” Lorenzo greeted happily, a complete 180 switch in tone.

“Hey boys, I’m grabbing breakfast for Y/n since she doesn’t feel well and I thought seeing your faces would cheer her up,” Cho explained as she showed them her plate of chocolate chip muffins.

Theo furrowed his eyebrows, “Is she okay? Is she sick?”

Cho rolled her eyes at the boy who caused her best friend to come back to the dorms sobbing her eyes out. She didn’t even know Theo that well but as she watched Y/n clutch her heart as she cried in her arms, she felt as if the boy had broken her heart as well.

“She's fine as if it’s any of your concern,” Cho brushed Theo’s questions away as she avoided any eye contact with him.

Lorenzo and Mattheo didn’t bother coming to his defense but instead got up and grabbed some juice and fruit before following Cho.

Theo looked down at his plate and suddenly didn’t feel very hungry anymore. Blaise sighed before patting his mate’s back in comfort while Theo pushed his food around.

Maybe he deserved that.

#theodore nott x you #theo nott x reader #theodore nott imagine #draco malfoy x reader #hogwarts oc #hogwarts au #harry potter #slytherin #ravenclaw #slytherin boys #draco malfoy #blaise zabini #theodore nott #mattheo riddle #lorenzo berkshire #hp fandom #hp fanfic

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taexoxosgf · 5 months

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DO IT AGAIN

PAIRING brother’s best friend!park jisung x fem!reader

WORDS 3.7k

SYNOPSIS your brother’s best friend can never get you alone. that’s why he won’t miss an opportunity— even if your brother’s on the other side of the walls.

WARNINGS reader is tyong’s sister, jealousy, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, creampie

NOTES this smut is actually from a super long fic i posted on my old account! i’m not sure if i’m gonna post the whole thing because i’m cringing rereading it lol

“So, how’s your big bro’s parties? It’s better than frat parties huh?” Taeyong dangles the red cup charged with alcohol in front of your face just for you to swat away in annoyance. “No musty bathrooms and paint peeling off the walls! Woooooooo!”

You’re going to have to have a jolly time cleaning his vomit in the morning. “Stop drinking you little shit. I’m not gonna take care of you tomorrow, just so you know.”

He does a little dance that has you suppressing a laugh, “The night is still young! Loosen up a little! Won’t stop until you’re having as much fun as me!” Your brother is so out of it, that he bumps into a million corners of the home and an attendee urges him to the couch.

“Actually… I’m not feeling so good,” he shushes the person helping before running out of the main room.

“Oh my god,” you pinch the sides of your nose bridge, unable to understand how Taeyong’s motto is always all or nothing.

You're nothing near Taeyong's level of intoxication, and whether it's the devil on your shoulder or the drink, you want Jisung. Excruciatingly so. Whoever claimed that drinking made you act like a bitch in heat wasn't kidding. It's more than true now that you know he's nearby– wanting to look for Jisung because if he wasn't going to make a move tonight, you would.

“Y/n?” a familiar voice calls you, prompting you to turn around.

“Hyuck? Oh my god! How are you?” you’re already bringing your arms out for a hug and he’s quick to immediately accept.

You both went to high school together before he left for university thousands of miles away. He still texts you now and then, but due to the time difference, you never had the opportunity to properly catch up.

“Not doing too bad. It’s so good to finally talk face-to-face babe, holy shit,” he chuckles.

“How’s the East Coast? Did you find a girlfriend at Columbia yet?”

“Nah, you know me. Girls there are way too preppy for me. Plus, I can’t stand another minute of freshmen thinking they’re living through Gossip Girl,” he pretends to gag, swaying his body from side to side.

“Hey! Don’t hate. That show was ahead of its time,” you comment, brows raised.

“It IS! But I’m talking about the people acting as if they were a part of the show themselves. Like come on, you were probably five when it came out!” he exclaims.

"Fair enough," you nod. "You know who you should go for?" an idea flashes across your mind as you speak.

“Who?” he shifts closer, genuinely curious.

You wave towards you as another way of telling him to step even closer and cup your hand behind his ear before whispering, “Yuna.”

“What?! There’s no way!” he steps away, not expecting you would say your best friend’s name.

“Come on! You guys would look so hot together! What’s so ‘no way’ about that idea?”

Your old friend momentarily pauses, like he didn’t know what kind of question you asked. “She’d never go for me.”

“What? She used to have a crush on you! You were always around different girls so she never made a move,” you affirm. “You know how she was in high school,” you remind him of the girl who was once afraid to step out of her comfort zone.

“Are you serious? There’s no way that’s true! You’re straight up lying to my face right now,” he groans, looking as if he was going through a mental crisis due to the news.

“I swear on my Loubitons that it’s true! Just talk to her,” you point to the back door. “She’s in the backyard. I’m sure she would love to catch up.”

He brings a hand to his chin, soothingly rubbing with his index, “You do love those shoes…”

“More than myself, so come on! The times ticking!” you press him further, and his eyes light up when he realizes the words you’re feeding him might actually be true.

“You know what, fuck it.”

“That’s what I like to hear! Acting like a true alpha male!” you jump up and down, probably with more excitement than he has.

He chuckles at your words, “Okay. Okay. Let’s hang out and catch up this week. Let me know when you’re free.”

“Okay now go!” you try not to hold him back longer than he needs to be.

“I”m go-”

Before you can properly bid goodbye, you feel a hand wrap around your wrist, pulling you away towards the narrow hallway of the home.

You see it’s Jisung after checking, and he’s definitely on a mission by the way he doesn’t utter a word. Instead, he drags you through the hallway and finally halts his steps at the sign of your bedroom door.

“Jisung, what are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer, he doesn’t let up on your wrist, and definitely doesn’t spare you a glance until you’re both in the room with the door shut behind your back. It’s almost pitch black in the room, and the only light source is the hallway lights illuminating underneath the crack of the door. Jisung finally lets go of your wrist when it’s just you two in your own space, and he brings that same arm above your head to anchor himself.

“Jisung.”

“Y/n,” his voice comes out hoarse, more playful. This was just what you wanted. He’s right here on a silver platter and you hadn’t even come close to building up the courage to approach him first.

Too bad you love to act dumb for the hell of it.

“What are you doing?” your eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness, noticing how close his face was to yours. It was the perfect opportunity. Taeyong was probably passed out along with the loud music all throughout the house. There’s no way anyone could hear a thing from inside the room.

“Just wanted you to myself,” he comments. You can smell the alcohol on his lips, assuming it was the reason behind his impatience– but don’t think he’s drunk due to his coherent speech and careful movements.

“You have me to yourself now. So what is it?” you gloat, acting as if you don’t notice him struggling to control himself.

“Sorry, I took you away from your little boyfriend. Look’s like you guys were having fun,” you can hear the slight anger in his voice, jaw clenching following the statement.

You roll your eyes in order to suppress a grin, the alcohol influencing you to play games, “Hyuck isn’t my boyfriend, just an old friend. Remember him?”

He notices the hint of playfulness in your eyes, wanting to just fuck it out of you. But he’s waited too long to do this, and there have been too many interrupted moments, so he leans into patience for resolve. “Oh, I must have missed something babe.”

You shift your face closer to him to prove your point once again, “He calls everyone that! Go up to him, he’ll literally call you babe.”

“Hmm,” Jisung hums. “Should I call him Hyuck too?”

Your eyes shoot to his plushy lips, his jealousy turning you on, but you don’t back down just yet, “If you heard that, then you must’ve heard the part where I told him to go for Yuna.”

“I checked out the moment you were calling each other pet names, baby,” he leans his hips against you, eyes evident with desire even in the darkness.

“Well, it’s definitely different coming from you,” you give him what he wants to hear, but it’s ultimately the truth.

Jisung pulls back just to lean down against your ear, “Different, how?”

It’s like he knows the power he has over you when he’s using that tone, including the fact that you feel him between your legs only slightly hard. It’s definitely bigger than you previously thought, the excitement shooting to your core, “I’m not spelling it out for you, baby.”

The name has him bringing his face back to where it was before, cocking a brow. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Play games. Don’t fuck with me because if you are, I’m gonna lose it,” he seethes, all control he previously displayed being lost in an instant.

You began narrowing the gap between the two of you even more, your noses brushing against each other. Jisung falters slightly as you do so, his hand landing on your hip. He's noticeably less in control than when he initially encircled you in the room, taking in every inch of you as you jut your hips forward.

He groans, struggling to keep up with what you've been doing.

"I'm not fucking with you," you say, holding his chin with your thumb and index finger, tilting his head and maintaining eye contact. "Just giving you what you want."

Jisung doesn’t know how you tempt while looking so innocent. If he’s being honest with himself, he never holds a sliver of command when you’re present. “You’re hot as fuck,” he mutters, trying to maintain a normal breathing pattern.

"You're hotter," your lips nearly touch at the movement. You're grinning ear-to-ear, but it's short-lived as Jisung grabs your nape and presses his lips to yours. This kiss is nothing like the previous one, and you want to drown in him. You press your mouth even harder on his, and he responds by positioning his entire weight against your body. You’re actually somewhat sober this time around and take notice of the piercing at the corner of his lips. The silver metal grazing over your lips provides a cold sensation to the hot atmosphere, and you push down a moan at the feeling.

He’s such a good kisser, it surprises you but doesn’t at the same time. The boy you used to know was so different than the one in front of you now.

When you set your arms around his neck to play with his locks, he grabs a hold of your waist. You're drowning, arching your back to relieve the tension in your body as the kiss deepens. Jisung licks your lips, and you easily accept his tongue, lips fighting against his. His tongue dances with yours, getting sloppier by the minute, ready to rip each other's clothes off.

He taps the back of your leg with his hand, signaling for you to jump. You do so without breaking contact with his lips, and he smiles against yours. The taste of alcohol in his mouth ignites something within you, along with the scent of his washed hair intertwined with the cologne he’s wearing.

Jisung slowly sets you down against the mattress, slotting himself between your legs before he pulls back for air. “You look submissive as fuck right now. Is that what you’re into? Being dominated?” he purrs, fingers playing with the waistline of your pants.

“Only if you like to dominate.”

The switch in his head flips, and he uses one hand to unzip your jeans to slowly run his fingers over your clothed clit. Your toes curl at the sudden pressure to your sensitive core that's been begging to be touched. The thin material of your panties doesn’t do much to shield his touch, but one thing’s for sure, if it feels this good, you can’t imagine how it’d feel when it’s not just a tease.

“Fuck,” you pant, moving your hands underneath Jisung’s shirt.

“What?” he asks, moving down to your neck. The sensation of his warm tongue against your neck has your skin igniting goosebumps all over. “I can’t hear you. Already falling apart?”

“N-no,” you stutter, knowing damn well that anything done to you will be the actual end. It seems like he wants to win the moment he brings his red and swollen lips back onto yours, sparing any niceties. He’s smothering you, ruthlessly kissing you to no end. But when you become lost in his lips once again, Jisung slips his hand underneath the band of your underwear to touch your pussy head-on.

“Jisungg,” you say against his mouth.

Of course, he doesn’t let up, circling your bud, knowing exactly where to touch you even though this is the first time you’ve done this with him. It’s nothing, but feels like so much, your thighs attempting to close around his hand.

He’s still attacking your mouth with his, fingers trailing in an up-and-down motion between your folds. It surprises you, and you moan against his mouth, unable to maintain the same pattern with your lips. “Fuck, you’re already so wet,” he lets go of your mouth with a pop, groaning at the arousal coating his fingers.

“Please, Jisung. I need you,” you whimper, unable to take any more of the mere seconds of pleasure he’s giving you. You don’t even look down as he slides your pants off along with your panties in one motion. He tsks, lowly enunciating a small, “So impatient.”

Without anything in the way, he doesn’t waste time plunging his fingers into your pussy, groaning at the way the muscle tightly clamps around his fingers– and it shoots straight down to your core, never getting enough of how deep his voice is.

The pleasure you’ve been trying to grasp is finally reached, a gasp spilling from your lips once he curls his fingers inside you. Your hands have found their way to his back, fingers digging deep into his skin and he hisses at the slight pain.

“Tell me you want this,” he murmurs against your ear while his fingers begin to speed up in pace. You’re bucking your hips up, wanting to meet him halfway in order to reach euphoria. “I w-want it,” you cry.

“Want what?” he asks, voice too soft for the motions he’s enacting.

“Want you. Want you so bad,” you moan, throwing your head back when he hits a certain spot. It feels too good to stop, and every part of your body tingles at the pleasure.

You want to sob at the feeling it brings you, his fingers, mercilessly driving in and out of your cunt, while his thumb circles your clit. Your stomach feels tight from all the stimulation, and his body pressed against yours makes you feel hot all over. What you don’t notice is Jisung’s watching every movement on your facial features, loving the way your brows scrunch and how your pretty lips open up every time he hits a certain spot.

The band in your lower abdomen is on the verge of snapping, and the fact that he's above you doesn't help. Jisung's hair still falls perfectly, occasionally brushing the tip of his nose. He’s so fucking hot, you can’t hold back. You can't stop the orgasm from reaching your body simply by the way he feels on your body and looks above you.

“P-please,” you beg.

At the feeling of your pussy tightening around your fingers, he digs into your cheek, bringing your face back towards his. “Come on, you can do it. Cum,” he demands.

“F-fuck! I-I’m gonna–” you scream, body convulsing as your orgasm washes over you. He doesn’t stop his movements until you’re whining for him to stop. Pulling his coated fingers out, just to bring it to his lips.

As the climactic high wears off, your body becomes limp, but the image of Jisung bringing his plump lips to wrap around his fingers leaves you wanting more. You nearly squeak when he groans at the taste, letting go of his fingers with a pop. "Mmm," Jisung moans. "You taste so good."

“Here, have a taste baby,” he smirks, bringing those same digits to swipe motions at your core. You whimper at the sensitivity, the buzzing feeling still present. “Open,” he commands.

You listen, sticking out your tongue for him to insert them into your mouth. The wet muscle swirls around his fingers, finally closing around them, and you gag when he presses further into your mouth, teasing your throat. “Good girl.”

It’s so arousing that you intend to get up from your original position beneath him, but he catches your wrists and pins them over your head to keep you in place. Maybe it's the unfulfilled horniness from all the other times he’s tried to get you under him, but it's got you whining and squirming beneath him for his tolerance. “Fuck, it’s like you knew this was gonna happen,” he murmurs, not taking his eyes off your body.

His hot breath fans against your face, “Did you?” He begins to trace the contours of your body, slipping underneath your shirt on his way up. “No,” it’s a weak response, body twitching when he starts massaging your breasts. You had just experienced an unearthly orgasm, but everything Jisung does just causes your cunt to clench around nothing, and it’s only once out of a million times since he walked through the door.

“Just fuck me,” you plead, feeling his thick cock prodding at the side of your thigh.

“You sure?” he asks once more for confirmation.

“Yes, now hurry,” your whine turns into a pout, and he chuckles at your impatience.

“Do you have a condom in your room?”

“Fuck no, I’m on birth control.” He groans at the information, already quick to tug his cock out of its confines.

And just like that, Jisung slowly inches his cock into you. “Oh,” you cry at the fullness. He’s stretching you out so well, and the slight burn just adds fuel to the fire.

“Holy shit,” he sighs. “You’re so tight,” to ease the tightness, his fingers are already making their way back to your bud, circling in slow motions, “Relax for me pretty.”

You nod, eyes rolling back into your head when he slowly begins to move. “Fffuck,” he curses, his grip moving to your waist the moment your legs instinctively wrap around his. He feels so fucking good inside you and you regret with every ounce of your being you both didn’t do this sooner. You should’ve jumped him when you had the chance because fuck. How are you going to stop now? “You feel so fucking good,” he groans at the sensation.

“Ji–sung,” you moan, “Faster.” Your walls clench around his hard cock dragging against your walls, speeding up in pace and you fully lose it. The lewd sounds of skin slapping echo through the bedroom, and Jisung just swallows your pour of moans. He eventually listens to your request, practically nailing you into the mattress. It feels so good, the sounds coming from him, the feel of his cock pulling out, leaving the tip, just to roughly thrust back inside. You don’t know how much more you can take.

The thin silver chain he always wears around his neck dangles right before your eyes, and even in your fucked out state, you can’t stop looking at Jisung. The sweat on his forehead causes the front pieces to stick, the glow of sex already peeking through. “This is what you get,” he spits, but you can tell he’s slightly holding back. “This is what you get for all the times you fucking ran away. When I could’ve fucked you dumb like you want.”

Jisung’s name was the only thing coherent as he drills into you, squealing at a particular thrust of his hips. He’s so deep inside you, tip faintly against your cervix. “You’re cock’s s-so big,” you gasp, tears blurring your vision. The higher the tension builds in your stomach, the more Jisung continues to destroy you. “Jisung, fuck!”

“You like it hard huh? Want me to make your pussy mine?” His dirty words only have you holding onto him tighter, digging the heel of your feet into his spine. It’s too bad you can’t respond, your brain a puddle of mush at this point, cock going too fast for you to think about anything else. The bed frame knocks against the walls as the bed shakes but there’s no room to worry about that. Especially when he’s hitting every spot inside you perfectly.

“Answer me,” he grunts as your moans grow higher in pitch, unable to take it much longer.

“Y-yes, it’s a-all yours,” your body jolts after every movement, carving pleasure all over his skin. The thread that holds on for dear life is on the verge of snapping, and you wail before your second orgasm can send you crashing down.

It was so easy for Jisung to slide in and out of your pussy, your dripping arousal coating his cock perfectly. “Ji–” you attempt to warn him, but he already made his way back to your clit, pressing rough circles. You begin to babble random sounds, unable to form coherent words when he’s impaling you.

“Yes!” A shriek tears itself from your throat at your orgasm, and your toes curl at the high that takes over you yet again tonight. Your body spasms, and your mind stuck in a haze when he continues stuffing your achy cunt with him.

“Holy shit,” it’s almost impossible for Jisung to keep going when you’re clamping down on him like a vice, keeping him from completely being able to leave.

“Inside, cum inside, Jisung,” you plead when his hips begin to stutter. After a few more thrusts, he fully moans, painting your insides. “Fuck,” It feels even more full than before, if that was even possible and you whimper from the overstimulation from the last few movements. After his orgasm is at its resolution, he slumps into your form, not bothering to pull out.

You’re both just lying there trying to catch your breath, and it’s somewhat serene. The music combined with the vague sound of murmurs could be heard from outside and that’s when you remember that there were indeed a bunch of individuals present too. Maybe they heard you guys fucking, and Jisung seems to have similar thoughts when he raises his head to murmur something. “I forgot to lock the door.”

Your eyes shoot wide open in response, “What? Are you serious? Someone could walk in to you butt-ass naked!”

You’re actually alarmed, but he just stares back at you, his mouth turning into a wide grin. “Nah, I’m just playin',” he laughs.

You chuckle along with him, playfully slapping his shoulder because of his unseriousness. “You’re so annoying.”

“Get used to it baby, I’m not going anywhere.”

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ervotica · 11 months

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𝐰𝐞’𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞. [𝐟.𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐫]

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: when you think finnick’s in danger, there’s nothing you wouldn’t do to protect him. or, that time the mutts impersonated your fiancé and you lost your shit.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: canon level violence, finnick is cute, reader is traumatised and also crying. overall not my best writing but it’s something.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: apologies for my absence guys, life has been kicking me in the ass of late. here’s an apology fic, i know it sucks i am very rusty in the writing department. love ya🫶

Finnick has been gone for ten minutes when the birds start circling; he’s disappeared into the trees, aimlessly digging when the sounds of flapping wings and voices hit the group’s poised ears.

You’re stumbling into the undergrowth at the first threat of danger, the breath quick to steal from your lungs as his voice rings in your ears.

“Y/N? Where are you? Help me!” Finnick’s voice calls, low and pained and drawn out terribly. Every sensible explanation dies, shrivels up and blackens in your head and you’re running towards the sound, swatting leaves and fallen branches out of the way.

“Finnick!” you shriek. “Finnick!”

Your heartbeat thumps in your own head, blood rushing and pounding when you trip and stumble your way further into the trees.

Peeta and Johanna are behind you, their grappling hands doing little to stop you on your rampage.

“They’re jabberjays, it’s not real!” Peeta tries to coax you down but it’s no use, you’re in a blind panic.

“Finn!” you scream for him again. “Finnick!”

Every awful scenario floods your head at once, of Snow and the Capitol and the torture they could inflict on him. It’s the only way to hurt you, hurting him, and Snow knows that.

Your cheeks are hot and damp with tears as you spin, frantic and wide eyed and desperate to catch a glimpse of Finnick; Johanna seizes you from behind, pushing you down to the ground and holding you there. When you thrash and lift your head, her hand clasps the back of your neck and forces your nose into the damp floor.

“It’s not real!” she growls.

He’s still screaming. Screaming for you. It hurts your ears and grabs your chest with white-hot panic, pure and unrelenting.

By the time the hour’s up, you’re limp, breath ragged and laboured. Johanna manhandles you up until you feel the bark of a tree digging into your back; you hiss and push her away indignantly. You have this far away look in your eyes, glazed and unfocused, only snapping to attention when a pair of footsteps bowl through the trees and crouch next to you.

“Finn,” you whisper, trembling as he wraps thick wired arms around you and pulls you flush to him. His pulse is fast and hard like a drum pressed to your cheek, his chest heaving as you climb him.

“It wasn’t real. I’m fine, we’re fine.”

You gasp and wheeze and clutch at him like he might slip away, a fist in his sandy hair, your shoulder wedged under his armpit. His grip is like iron around your waist and his breath is warm and comforting on the juncture of your shoulder.

“You’re okay,” you mumble, repeating over and over as though you’re trying to convince yourself.

“I’m okay. Look at me,” he demands. His hands are warm. “It wasn’t real.”

“Not real.” You rake fingernails across the nape of his neck, squeezing to keep him close. Your breath is ragged. “We’re fine.”

“There’s my girl.”

#the hunger games #the hunger games fanfiction #finnick x you #finnick x y/n #finnick x reader #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair #the hunger games x you #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games finnick #the hunger games fic #finnick odair angst #writer #writing #writers on tumblr

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leclerc-hs · 5 months

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snowballs - cl16

pairing: charles leclerc x nanny!reader (fem) summary: in which you bake cookies with charles and his daughter but still end up on your knees warnings: some cute fluff?, 18+, slight smut, oral (m-receiving), bad french (please correct me!!! i don't speak french), not proofread word count: 1,342 author's note: merry christmas eve (ya filthy animals) lmaooo. also loling at the title. leaving this here for y'all. single dad Charles has me in a complete chokehold. this is not a part 2, just a little Christmas themed drabble if you wanna call it that. if you didn’t read THIS yet, then go do it.

french edits made by @dannyramirezwife !!! (my angel)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

THE AIR WAS filled with the sweet scent of pine and cinnamon, instantly putting you in a festive mood as soon as you arrived today. Soft, twinkling lights adorn the walls and windows, casting a warm and inviting glow throughout the space. Throughout the apartment, the sound of classic Christmas tunes plays softly in the background.

The kitchen, where all three of you stood, was pure chaos. Bowls varying sizes are strewn across the countertops, each bearing the remnants of different stages of the baking process. A mixing bowl, its sides smeared with sticky remnants of cookie dough, sits next to a flour-dusted measuring cup. Multiple trays of already baked cookies, sat cooling atop the stove. It truly was a mess.

“Papa! Vous ne pouvez pas manger ça!” You can’t eat those! She exclaimed in fits of laughter. Her face was absolutely covered in ingredients. No doubt from sneaking licks of cookie dough and frosting when she thought that nobody was looking. Flour coated her hands and arms, and some had found its way to her rosy cheeks.

“Ils sont pour le Père Noël!” They’re for Santa! You agreed with her. Swatting him with one of the Christmas themed hand towels that was nearby, before returning to decorating the cookies that lay in front of you.

Charles emitted a resounding gasp, skillfully weaving of feigned anguish. His reaction unfolded with a theatrical flair; a symphony of emotion portrayed through a dramatic hand gesture that traversed the journey of his fist to his chest. It mimicked the palpable sensation of being struck, an artful display of simulated injury. “Un autre homme reçoit tout cela?” Another man gets all of these?

With an indulgent smile, you playfully orchestrate a slow, deliberate roll of your eyes in response to his theatrics. Unfazed by the charming display, you redirect your attention solely to the task at hand – meticulously adorning the remaining cookies with festive embellishments. The ambiance in the room becomes a delightful blend of shared amusement as you all work hard finishing them all.

Charles soon excused himself to his bedroom to gather a call regarding some car testing that happened earlier this week.

As you were on the verge of releasing a hearty sigh, ready to vocalize your exhaustion, your attention diverted to the drowsy four-year-old near you. Her delicate features were gently pressed against the countertop, closed in the embrace of slumber. A wave of endearment washed over you. Suppressing a giggle, you marveled at the sheer adorableness of the scene, momentarily setting aside your fatigue to savor the precious sight before you.

Tenderly, you gathered her into your arms, cradling her like a precious bundle. With each careful step echoed through the familiar path leading to her room, where the soft glow of ambient light revealed the traces of a day well spent.

Arriving at her bed, you marveled at the cherubic expression on her face. Softly, you attempted to wipe away the remnants of flour that adorned her tiny arms and face, a silent acknowledgment of the shared joy in the day’s baking escapade. Deciding that it was best to let her sleep than to wake her to bathe her now. The sheets could always be washed later. In that quiet moment, you sat on the floor beside her bed, just smiling at her. The room became a sanctuary, where the gentle act of care echoed the love woven into the fabric of the night.

Unbeknownst to you, Charles stood silently in the doorway, quietly observing the intimate scene before him. A swell of emotion gripped his heart as he beheld the tender scene – there you were, alongside his daughter, the warmth of familial connection radiating from your shared moments. In that unspoken exchange, a poignant desire filled his heart, longing for the sense of family that seemed to effortlessly bloom in your presence. His heart was full of want for you.

“Sugar crash?” His voice, soft and unexpected, caught you off guard, prompting an instinctive flinch. As you turned your head, you found Charles slowly approaching, his tall figure standing gracefully behind where you were seated. His captivating green eyes remained fixed on you, their beauty holding a silent intensity, never once wavering from your presence.

“Oui,” you softly smiled. “Je devrais aller nettoyer,” I should go clean up. You stood to your feet as Charles pressed a soft kiss to his sleeping girl and brushed her hair out of her face.

Back in the kitchen, it truly looked like a tornado had hit the room. Standing amidst the culinary chaos, you contemplated where to even begin when, suddenly, a pair of hands playfully seized your waist, diverting your attention.

“Tu me rends fou,” You drive me crazy.

His lips pressed softly into the swell of your neck, his tongue pressing against your cookie batter covered skin. “Tellement doux,” So sweet.

Your stomach clenched with butterflies as he spun you around, holding you close to him. Slowly, he brings his index finger to the corner of your mouth, wiping a speck of dough off you and bringing it to your lips.

He doesn’t even need to tell you before your opening your mouth, wrapping your tongue around his finger to lick it off. You stare up at him in the process, witnessing the color of his eyes darken as you release his finger with a ‘pop’.

“Je te rends toujours folle?” Still drive you crazy?

You observed the Adam’s apple in his neck bobbing with a pronounced gulp. The veins in his neck stood out prominently, evidence of his teeth being clenched.

You slowly made your way to your knees, trailing your hands down his body, feeling his taut muscles through the confines of his sweatpants. You skillfully looped your fingers into his waistband, pulling them down to free his hard length. Not too far away, was some spare cookie dough on the island of the kitchen. To which, you reached one arm up and grabbed, spreading some of it onto him, a smirk graced your lips as you heard him groan.

“Mon dieu,” My God. He physically had to lean forward, hunching over you, in order to grip the kitchen counter top as soon as your tongue met him.

You moaned at the taste of him and the cookie dough.

He half-chuckled as his hips bucked further into your mouth, chasing after his pleasure. He inhaled sharply, trying to relax, but you were eager and adamant on getting him there. You were so so so eager to please him.

Your hand gripped him, collecting the spit on your fingers, spreading it all over his hot skin, while you suckled gently at his sensitive tip.

“Mmm, fuck,” He couldn’t get full words out as you sunk him deeper into your mouth, his tip scraping the walls of your throat. The burning in his stomach was rising as he watched you eagerly take every inch of him. You moaned at the taste of him, the vibrations pushing him even closer to the edge.

His face was completely flushed now as you bobbed up and down, essentially choking on him. Keeping your voice down, you pulled off of him again.

“Je te veux partout sur ma langue,” Want you all over my tongue. Your whimpery tone sent him over the edge almost instantly.

“Fuck, fuck,” he repeated. The muscles of his arms bulging as he gripped the edge of the countertop tightly. Your eyes were wet with tears, but you were satisfied as he filled your mouth. Your tongue ran over the tip once more, licking up every drop, before he took a step back from you.

You grinned lazily at him as you stood to your feet. His chest was rising and down deeply as he tried to catch his breath.

“Complètement fou,” Fucking crazy. He murmurs, pulling you in for a sweet kiss.

“Il est temps de nettoyer!” Time to clean! You clap your hands together, devious to escape his touch.

But you both know, that he won’t let you off the hook that easily.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc #f1 x reader #f1 imagines #f1 imagine #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fanfic #don’t wake the kids cl16 #drabble #f1 drabble

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steddiecameraroll · 1 month

Text

CW: mention of surgery and family member’s death

ao3

Eddie’s not paying attention to where he’s walking when he bumps into someone coming out of a coffee shop.

“Oh,” Eddie steps back and opens his mouth to apologize, when he looks up to see who he’d crashed into.

“You ok?” The man asks.

Eddie tries to respond, wants to respond, opens his mouth to respond but the quirk in the man’s smile is taunting him. It’s connected to a face that could make a man weak in the knees, in fact it’s doing just that right now.

“Ya good?” The man asks again this time putting his hand cautiously on Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie can’t do anything but nod. “Alright, watch where you’re going, ok?”

There’s no frustration in his tone, no heat behind his words but Eddie feels like he should definitely do what he’s asking. Before Eddie can actually say anything the guy is walking away down the sidewalk in the opposite direction than Eddie needs to go.

Without thinking, Eddie turns on his heels and follows the man. He’s never done anything like this before in fact he doesn’t know why he’s doing it now, but something is pushing him to follow. He watches the soft bounce of hair on the man’s gorgeous head weave through the crowd but then suddenly disappear.

Eddie blinks a couple of times thinking his eyes have stopped working. He ducks around a few people trying to catch sight of the man but can’t find him anywhere. Maybe he’s losing his mind.

Eddie stops and puts his hands on his hips, swiveling around trying to find the guy. Where could he have gone?

Someone crashes into his back then yells at him for standing in the middle of the sidewalk, reminding him he’s going to be late for lunch with Chrissy.

He apologizes to the guy for standing, only partially sarcastically, then heads back in his original direction towards the diner he’s meeting his best friend at.

“Who was he?” Chrissy asks around a fry.

“No clue, but it was like I had to follow him. I’ve never seen him before.”

“Was he hot?” She cocks her head like she’s figured him out.

“Uh, he- I, yes, but that wasn’t why I followed him.”

“Uh huh, and getting his number isn’t a motivator at all.” She rolls her eyes and tosses her balled up straw wrapper at his head.

“Hey,” Eddie swats her trash away. “I’m serious. That wasn’t it. I don’t know, it was something else.”

Chrissy inspects him from across the table. She knows him better than he knows himself, and she knows he wouldn’t follow some random guy without a reasonable excuse.

“Did he look like someone? Remind you of anyone, maybe?”

“I don’t think so, but- maybe?” He shrugs and wishes he could put his finger on it.

He’s spent the last 30 minutes trying to figure it out but coming up blank. He can’t stop thinking about the man’s gorgeous hazel eyes glinting back at him.

Eddie slings his backpack over his shoulder and shuffles his way off the train. He’s lost in thought, like he’s been for the last several days since running into that coffee guy, and doesn’t clock the group of teenagers rushing towards the doors. They part around him, but one of them bumps into his backpack spinning him around and he stops moving just as they’re ushered into the train. The man reprimanding their behavior is standing just inside the door when Eddie realizes it’s the guy. THE guy. But before his brain sends a signal to his feet, the train door is closing and Eddie stands gawking instead.

When the train starts moving slowly, Eddie’s brain jump starts and he’s rushing toward the train. He can see the guy standing near the window so he starts waving his hands trying to get his attention. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if the guy happens to notice him, but he’s feeling a compulsive need to try.

The train starts speeding up and he still hasn’t noticed Eddie.

“Shit, excuse me. Excuse me! Sorry, shit, sorry!” He weaves around other passengers and races along the train continuing to wave his hands.

He runs out of platform a few feet later and just as he drops his arms he thinks he sees a flash of those hazel eyes peering through the glass. He’s panting hard, his side twinging slightly, when he runs his hand through his hair. That was the most physical activity he’s gotten in awhile, and that’s kind of embarrassing.

When he turns around he realizes he’s almost alone on the platform. Which also means he’s going to be late to work.

“You saw him again? On the train?” Chrissy is munching on half of a banana nut muffin.

“No, yes, but I wasn’t on the train. I was getting off and he got on.”

“He didn’t see you?”

“No, I tried, too. I ran along the side of the train trying to get his attention.” Eddie swivels back and forth in his desk chair while chewing on his thumbnail.

“Ran? You, ran? Next to the train?”

“Yeah, I know.” He sighs and rolls his eyes slightly.

“What were you expecting to do if he did see you?”

“I hadn’t thought that far,” which was true.

“So then he sees you and what? Were you just going to wave? Stand there like a goober and wiggle your fingers at him? I mean, Eddie, you gotta think these things through.”

She has a point but she should know he’s more of an act first think about it later kinda guy. Plus, who knows maybe the guy has been thinking about Eddie just as much has he has. Maybe he would see Eddie and know exactly what to do. It’s possible. Not likely, but possible.

“No?” He lies because that’s exactly what he would’ve done.

“You’re pathetic. You gotta stop obsessing about this dude. You interacted with him for approximately 15 seconds.”

“I knoooooooww,” Eddie whines. “But I can’t explain it, Chris. Ugh. Do you think he’s someone I went to school with? Maybe elementary school so he looks different but there’s something that seems familiar?”

“Why are you asking me? I have no idea. I think you should ask your penis.” She tilts her head causing her ponytail to swish slightly.

“What!?” Eddie squeaks.

“Come on, you’re attracted to him, and I think little Eddie is driving this ridiculous obsession. That’s it.” She tosses her muffin wrapper in the trash can and slaps her palms on top of Eddie’s desk. “You’re getting laid. This weekend we’re going out and I don’t want to hear it.”

“I can’t get out of this can I?” He loves this woman, but he kinda wanted to stay home this weekend and get his one shot campaign finished.

“Nope,” she says with a giggle.

“What about him?” Chrissy yells into Eddie’s ear while stealthily pointing across the bar.

Eddie turns to see where she’s pointing and she’s got to be kidding. “Do you know me at all? No.” He sighs and turns back to his beer.

“Come oooon, you’re not even trying. Ooh what about him?”

Eddie takes a quick glance before shaking his head. “I think this place is a dud tonight.”

“You’re just picky.” She swirls her drink aimlessly looking around the room.

The place is pretty packed for a Friday night, but they were able to grab a couple stools at the bar top, which Eddie is grateful for. Chrissy is spun around facing outward. Her foot is bouncing to the beat of the music playing overhead. She’s all dolled up, on the hunt herself but making sure to keep an eye out for Eddie.

“Ooh,” she gasps and Eddie tries to see what she’s looking at. “She’s pretty.”

“Where?”

“Over there, near the pole.”

Eddie cranes his neck and sees a taller woman with a short bob, wearing an oversized blazer, sleeves shoved to her elbows, and laughing at someone standing behind the pole.

“You should go talk to her.” Eddie nudges her foot.

“You think?” Chrissy keeps her eyes pointed on the woman. “Oh, she’s…hmm,” Chrissy bites her bottom lip and smiles shyly. “She looked at me. She did it again. Oh.”

Eddie hides a laugh behind his drink and risks a glance across the bar. He catches the woman nervously glancing at Chrissy and immediately thinks they’re a match made in heaven.

“Go, I’ll be fine.” Eddie nudges her again. “I’m gonna go smoke anyway.”

“Ok, be safe out there.”

She hates that he has to go out back to smoke. It’s a creepy alley behind a gay bar. The worst he’s ever run into back there are a few rushed blowjobs and some handies. People usually leave him alone, though. He doesn’t really give off a friendly vibe.

Eddie finishes off his beer and slides off his stool with a stretch of his arms.

“Good luck, Cunningham. Go get yourself a lesbian.” He shakes her shoulder gently and heads toward the back door.

He takes a deep breath when the night air hits him. It feels good after spending time in the stuffy bar. He shuffles his way down from the door, and finds a spot against the brick wall. He then pulls out his crinkled pack of Camels, plucks a cigarette out, and slots it between his lips.

While holding his lighter to the tip of his cigarette, the back door slides open and he turns to watch someone walk out.

Oh my god

It’s him

Eddie’s cigarette falls from his lips as his mouth gapes open. He’s moving on instinct towards the man he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about for the past seven days. The man sees Eddie approaching and he gives him a nervous smile. Eddie realizes he doesn’t recognize him. That fact stings more than it should.

“You,” Eddie says with a shakey breath.

“Um, you ok, man?”

“Who are you?” Eddie scans over the man’s face trying to piece it together.

He sees two perfectly placed moles on the man’s cheek and two more along his neck. Nothing that is triggering a memory though.

“Uh, Steve? Do I know you?”

Eddie ducks his head and starts looking over other parts of the man’s body. More moles line the man’s arms and his exposed shoulders from under his tank top. Eddie’s eyes catch on a tattoo on the man’s pec through the gap in his shirt.

“What’s-what’s that? " Eddie cocks his head. "That date?”

The man, Steve, looks down noticing Eddie seeing the tattoo.

“It’s the day I was saved.”

“What?” Eddie’s eyes flick up to Steve’s before dropping back to the tattoo.

It’s the day Eddie’s mom died.

“I had a heart transplant.”

Eddie’s hands drop to his sides and his face slowly relaxes as he starts to wonder if it’s possible.

“Do you- uh, do you know who…? Who your donor was?”

Steve furrows his brows and cocks his head. “Uh, yeah?”

“Who? Who was it? I-I lost my mom that day.” Steve’s face softens and Eddie watches as the man looks him over.

“Elizabeth-“

“Munson?” Steve nods and Eddie gasps covering his mouth with his hand in shock. “Oh my god.”

“She saved my life.”

Tears well in Eddie’s eyes as he reaches his fingers toward Steve. He asks for silent permission to touch and Steve nods. Eddie huffs a heavy breath as he presses his hand to Steve’s chest. He lets his fingers spread out, pushing his palm against him. Before Eddie can take a deep breath he feels the pound of Steve’s heartbeat against his hand.

His mom’s heartbeat.

Eddie looks up with a wet chuckle and sees matching tears in Steve’s eyes.

“I wasn’t going to make it. I was on my last leg and then suddenly there was a viable heart.” Steve places his hands over Eddie’s and stares into his eyes. “Thank you.”

Eddie nods and swallows back the sob he wants to release. Steve runs his thumb comfortingly across Eddie’s knuckles and gives him a sad smile.

“I knew there was something.” Eddie shakes his head. “Since I saw you last week, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Last week?” Steve furrows his brows and then widens his eyes in realization. “The coffee shop. You bumped into me.” He smiles at Eddie fondly.

“Yeah,” Eddie says a little embarrassed. “Then again at the train station. You were with some kids.”

“That was you. I thought I saw you but wasn’t sure.”

“I might’ve chased the train a little.” Eddie shrugs.

“Chased the train? For me?”

“A little.” Eddie’s hand is still pressed against Steve’s chest so he can feel when the man’s pulse kicks up.

“And now you’re here. Somehow. It’s like the universe wanted us to meet.” Steve bites his bottom lip and Eddie suddenly wants to bite it too.

Now that he knows why he felt so pulled toward Steve, he can actually look at the man. It’s like a fog is lifted and he can see Steve in all his beautiful glory.

“Yeah,” Eddie whispers.

“Do you wanna get a drink? With me?” Steve asks nervously, and if he could read Eddie’s mind he wouldn’t be so nervous.

“Yes,” he nods quickly. “I’d love to.”

Steve keeps his grip on Eddie’s hand and laces their fingers together before pulling them toward the door.

“I’m here with my friend Robin, but she is getting hit on by the cutest little blonde, so she won’t bother us.”

“My friend Chrissy is a cute little blonde. Wouldn’t that be funny?”

coffee? ☕️🍩💕

#I made myself cry #inspired by an episode of Monk I watched last night #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddiecameraroll posts #steddie ficlet #steddie fics

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loveinhawkins · 1 year

Text

It’s the last period of the day, and in his peripheral vision, Steve can see Eddie Munson fighting sleep, elbow repeatedly slipping off his desk.

They’re not usually in this class together; a good handful of teachers are on a ‘field trip’—which had been sold to the principal as an educational experience, but was really an excuse for both students and staff to while away the last remaining days of the semester.

So most classes have become an assortment of students who haven’t gone on the trip, odds and ends who usually wouldn’t cross paths.

When Steve had entered, he saw that the room was sparse, people dotted about the place with no regard to a seating plan—he’d headed straight for a desk by the window, hadn’t even noticed that Eddie Munson was in the seat right beside him until he’d already sat down.

And then it turned out he couldn’t even reap the benefits of choosing a seat near said window. The room was stuffy, unbearably so, and Eddie had beaten Steve to it, actually raising his hand and asking, perfectly politely, if he could open the window.

But the substitute teacher had just sneered and replied haughtily, “No, Munson, you cannot.”

Condescending ass, Steve had thought, and he was almost looking forward to one of Eddie Munson’s infamous diatribes.

But Eddie just wilted in his seat and didn’t say another word.

That’s when Steve noticed that he kept looking down at his desk. There was a piece of paper on there, an end of year test—Steve recognised Mrs O’Donnell’s handwriting making comments in the margins. The top right hand corner was folded over in such a way that just made the hiding of the grade all the more obvious: it was clearly an abject fail.

As Eddie stared at the paper, he started to blink rapidly, and for a horrible moment it seemed like he was going to cry, so Steve quickly looked away.

By the time he dared to look back, it was a quarter of the way through the period, and the heat of the room must’ve been getting to Eddie, his eyelids fluttering as he tried not to doze.

And now Steve’s stuck with a teacher who’s clearly immune to every pointed look he shoots his way. He gets to the point where he’s glaring daggers at the dude—seriously, where does he get off, keeping the window closed just to prove some bullshit point about authority?

Every so often, Steve finds himself catching a paper airplane—what are they, five?—that had been heading for Eddie’s face, made by some meathead junior. Steve either swats them away or, if he’s feeling particularly pissy, crumples them up with one hand, throws them back at the junior’s head.

Eddie’s repositioned his elbow so it’s no longer in danger of slipping off the desk—eyes totally closed now, like he’s accepted defeat.

Steve is too late to catch the next paper airplane as it hits the side of Eddie’s head, and when Eddie stirs, blinking blearily at him, he says, defensively, “It wasn’t me.”

“Relax, Harrington,” Eddie says, yawning, “I know.” He unfolds the paper airplane with a tut. “No structural integrity to this thing at all. You’d give me quality.”

Steve doesn’t think of a barbed comment to reply with, because Eddie starts refolding the paper and uses it as a fan—and it’s not even for a bit or anything; Steve can tell that he’s just genuinely suffering.

Movement draws his eyes to the front of the room; he watches as the teacher makes his way to the door and leaves.

“Thank God he’s gone,” Steve mutters. He stands and lifts up the window as far as it will go, hears Eddie’s quiet sigh of relief as the fresh air comes in.

Steve glances over at the door; the paper airplane-throwing junior has gathered a little group, and it looks like they’ve locked the teacher out. There’s no footsteps or furious knocking yet, so Steve figures he’s got a bit of time.

He jumps up onto the window sill to better enjoy the breeze, stretching his legs and idly looking outside.

He just catches Eddie scoffing, the little aside he makes: “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Steve turns his head to him. “What?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitches like he’s fighting a smile. “Just… you,” he says.

And it’s said with a kind of reluctant fondness, almost like they’re friends—which is bizarre, Steve thinks, since this is definitely the longest conversation they’ve ever had.

But maybe the approaching summer break has Eddie all sentimental.

“What about me, Munson?”

Eddie gestures at him, as if to say uh, everything, but it somehow doesn’t come across as an insult.

“Just… the way you do things sometimes. Like you’re in a goddamn movie.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Dude, I’m just sitting. Anyone could do this.”

“Nah, Harrington. It’s all in the execution, y’know?”

Steve snorts. “Bull.”

“And not all of us have the hair for it.”

Steve tilts his head, drawls, “Oh, I dunno.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh like he’s been taken by surprise.

Steve turns back to the window. It’s not all that great a view, really, the sun only highlighting the dried unkempt grass around the track. Still, there’s an undefinable something to it that gives Steve pause.

Maybe it’s because graduation is right around the corner. Even just walking down the school corridors feels like a series of goodbyes.

“Hey, Harrington. You heard of mise-en-scène?”

And Steve finds himself grinning at the French accent Eddie slips into.

“Bless you,” he says, just to be annoying, though he has heard of it, remembers it from when they looked at some plays in English. Then overheard it, really, while the aspiring film students fretted over their college applications in the library, and he listened with a jealousy he didn’t care to analyse. “I’m seeing some movie shot stuff here, is all.”Steve looks over again, in time to see Eddie adopt an over-the top trailer voice. “The fallen King—”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“—looks down at what remains of his Kingdom, setting his sights on pastures new.”

A wistful edge creeps into Eddie’s voice, something separate from the theatrics—confirming Steve’s suspicions that he won’t be graduating this year, after all.

“Not exactly pastures new,” Steve says. “I, um, didn’t get into anywhere so.” He shrugs vaguely. “Gotta hold down a summer job and then… I don’t know. Not thought that far ahead yet.”

Eddie seems to consider him. “Nothing wrong with that, Harrington,” he says quietly.

“I know,” Steve replies. Because it’s true; he knows he’ll be far from the first high school graduate staying in Hawkins, working a minimum wage job all summer.

His parents had said as much. But then…

He doesn’t know how to explain that it’s the tone in which they say things rather than the things themselves that sets him on edge. That sometimes just the way they shut doors around him inexplicably prompts a feeling of nausea.

But they’re out of town for the whole summer—already left this morning, thank God. So he’s hardly going to get into all of that with Eddie Munson, of all people. Barely addresses it within himself, honestly.

“It’s just… not really what I pictured,” he says instead. “You know, like…” And maybe Eddie’s theatricality has made him a little bolder, because he looks out at the view, and slips into a brief understated impression with ease: “I'm shakin’ the dust of this crummy little town off my feet and I'm gonna see the world.”

When he turns back, Eddie’s lips twitch again, and this time the smile wins. “Well okay, George Bailey.”

Steve smiles back. Shrugs once more. “It’s for the best, really. Means I can keep an eye on—”

And he stops himself, realises he was about to say the kids.

Eddie’s eyes light up with interest. “Oh? So you’ve found someone worth staying for.” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice when he adds, “S’awfully romantic of you, Harrington.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Not like that. But… yeah, you could say so. They’re all worth it.”

“Huh,” Eddie says thoughtfully. “What happened to you, Steve Harrington?”

Steve laughs. Shakes his head. “Life. And, uh, got a thump to the head.”

Eddie whistles lowly. “Damn. Maybe I should try that.” He glances down at his test, frowning.

“Hey, come on. Everyone loves a comeback kid.”

“Hmm. Not everyone.”

Eddie sighs and stuffs the test into his bag. As he does so, there’s a sudden pounding on the door, and Steve hears some of the students break out into whispers that are so loud they might as well be shouting: discussing their plan to pin the blame on Eddie for locking the teacher out.

Perhaps it’s the fact that he’s soon leaving high school behind that has Steve viewing all of this with a clarity he can’t remember having a few years ago. They’re just mean, he thinks, just plain mean for the sake of it. Jesus Christ, you don’t kick a guy while he’s down.

Eddie’s eyes dart over to the group. He’s clearly overheard them too, but he seems resigned to it, like he’s got no more fight left in him.

A girl unlocks the door, and the teacher storms inside, apoplectic with rage.

And before anyone can get a word in, Steve says, “It was me. I locked the door.”

He can feel Eddie staring at him. He leans more into his lounging on the window sill, pretends to check his nails.

The teacher’s eye twitches. “And may I ask, Harrington,” he seethes, “what would even possess you to—”

“Oh,” Steve says, faux brightly, “that’s easy. I don’t like you.”

Eddie’s hand subtly rises up to cover his mouth. Steve bites back a grin; he knows a hastily stifled laugh when he sees one.

“Out you go, Harrington,” the teacher says, pointing at the door.

Steve stands up, unbothered. He’ll just ditch, head home early before the dick’s had any time to step out into the corridor and scream at him. That mall’s almost done being built; he could finish filling in a job application for one of the stores there before the day’s out.

He makes sure the window’s pushed up so far that it’ll be more of a pain to try and close it compared to just letting it be.

Then he swings his bag over one shoulder, says in a little aside, “See you, Munson. You know, Class of ‘86 has a better ring to it anyway.”

“I’ll, uh, take your word for it, man,” Eddie says, and he sounds a little taken aback.

Steve glances over his shoulder just before the door shuts behind him, and he sees Eddie’s hand raised in an uncertain wave, like he can’t believe he’s even doing it.

And if you ask Steve, that’s a movie shot all of its own.

#them briefly crossing paths before Everything has my heart ❤️#pre steddie #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson

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ravenslvt · 3 months

Note

in love with your writing and politely requesting afab reader x Leon. basically reader was in a shitty controlling relationship before getting with Leon. her ex would isolate her & wouldn’t let her talk to her friends & family, would control what she wore, wouldn’t let her go out, etc.

when her and Leon are getting ready to go out to dinner with some friends, she’s already nervous about the fact they’re going out with friends. on top of that she silently frets over wanting to wear a dress that shows some cleavage and her back, worried Leon will make her change/call her an attention whore for dressing that way like her ex did. but instead he comforts her and reassures her sweetly and also with a quickie before dinner

☆ leon s kennedy x f!reader ☆

cw: mentions of past toxic relationship, comforting, smut, body worshiping, unprotected sex, short and simple

you sigh looking in the full body mirror in front of you. your nerves on edge.

the dress your boyfriend had bought you looked good on you, maybe too good you thought. the flattering neckline exposed your cleavage while the back of the dress was low cut, revealing your back. you were scared leon might not like it or want you to wear something more modest.

the furrow in your brow was obvious to leon as he walked into his room. on instinct, your arms cross against your chest to cover yourself as he walks in. you practically spent everynight at his apartment at this point. he walks up behind you, wrapping his strong arms around your middle and bringing you close to him.

“everything ok?” he softly asks, moving your hair to the side to give your neck a small kiss. his eyes glued to your dress in the mirror. “you look beautiful, baby” one of his cold hands moves down to your bare back, giving you chills.

“i was gonna put a jacket on, it might be too much for a fancy restaurant…” you say, a frown on your face. you just stared at yourself. you knew if this was a year ago, your ex would be telling you how desperate you were for wearing something so revealing. how you were basically begging for other mens attention.

you were so happy when you met leon, he was completley obsessed with you since the first day you met. but still, the memories of your past always lingered in your mind in situations like these.

leon noticed the way your thoughts wondered and he hugged you tigher. “c’mon. you look absolutely gorgeous. i can’t wait to show you off to all our friends, they’re gonna be so jealous i’m the one taking you home” he chuckles lightly, kissing down your cheek.

“are you sure? what if it’s cold… maybe i can just-“ you start, but he cuts you off with more kisses.

you giggle “leonn, you’re gonna smear my makeup” you try to swat him away, but he just holds you tighter.

“can’t i show my beautiful girlfriend some love, hmm?” he continues kissing your face, moving down to your neck.

“if you keep this up, we’re gonna be late” you pout, but don’t protest his actions. he just smiles, sucking a small hickey onto your neck like a horny teenager. you just lean back into him as his hands run up and down your body.

you whine and crane your head to look up at him when he cups your breasts through your dress with his large hands.

“god, what did i do to deserve you, princess?” he groans. you could feel something hard against your ass and you gasped his name. the way he could get hard just from looking at you.

“let me show you how much you mean to me.” he slowly grinded his errection into your rear, making you mewl.

he pulled away, making you pout. you turn around and he sat on the bed that faced the large mirror. your eyebrow raised curiously. he just hold out a hand for you to grab onto and you oblige. as soon as your hands meet, he kisses your knuckles before pulling you onto the bed with him, making you let out a yelp of suprise. he pins you under him, a blissed out look on his face. he was so entranced with everything you do.

he finally kisses your lips feverishly, like he couldn’t pull away. you knew your lipgloss was ruined by now, but neither of you seemed to mind.

he bit your lip and you gasped. he chuckled from how responsive you always were, kissing you even deeper. his lips pull back to trail down your body. your jaw, neck, chest, breasts. he carefully bunches your long dress up to your waist, careful not to wrinkle the expensive fabric. even if he did ruin it, he’d buy you as many more as you wanted.

the cool air hit your bare legs, your panties on display for him. they were the same color as the dress, making him smile. ‘so cute’ he thought. you giggle as he kisses down your stomach, a bit ticklish. he was at your thighs, kissing and giving small bites to the plush skin. you perch up on your elbows to get a better view. your boyfriend was so handsome. with every kiss he left in his wake, he gave praises.

“you’re so perfect. you’re all i ever need” he repeats until his lips hover over your clothed pussy. you give him a pleading look and grip his dirty blonde hair, making him smile. he rips your panties down your legs, stuffing them in his pockets, making you gasp.

“leonnn, i need those!” you exclaim. he just chuckles and gives your dampened cunt a kiss. he has to pin your thighs down to prevent them from squirming around. he licks a long stripe up your folds, making you shiver. his tounge flicks your clit, hardening his tounge to circle it, making you tug at his hair.

he starts to suck at your sensitive bud, making you practically scream out. he circles your tight hole with one of his long fingers, slowly inserting it, making you whine out into the bedroom air. his finger pumps in and out, adding another, sending you over the edge.

you chant his name as you shake in his hold, his fingers basically jackhammering into you as is lips sucked your clit expertly. he knew your body inside and out at this point.

“fuck leon! i’m gonna cum, baby, i’m-“ you cut yourself on with a boderline pornographic scream as you clench around his fingers, soaking his face and hand with your wetness. he fucks you through your orgasm until you’re pushing at his head, panting. he reluctantly pulled away, shoving his fingers in his mouth, licking himself clean. you groan from the sight. the sheets under you were soaked.

“kiss me” you mumble, reaching your hands out for him. he smiles and leans up to give you a kiss. you groan as you taste yourself on his tounge. he was almost crushing you with his strong body, you could feel his large cock straining against his suit pants. your hands unbutton his trousers, trying to push them down his hips. “off” you say into his mouth. he obeys, standing for a moment to take his pants and boxers off. his cock standing proudly as he stroked himself. no matter how many times you’ve seen it, you will never get over his sheer size. you were suprised it fit everytime you guys fucked.

he hooks his arms under your legs, pulling you closer to him so he could line himself up with your hole. he dragged his weeping cock up and down your slick folds, lubricanting himself. “stop teasing” you whine, shifting your hips to try and get him inside. he leans down to kiss you and slowly enters you, his thick cock giving you a delicious stretch even with all the foreplay. you gasp once he fully bottoms out, his cock already hitting the spot deep inside of you. “you always feel so perfect” he almost growls out, feeling your walls around him.

you moan his name as his hips slap against you, thrusting in and out over and over. he groans at the sight of your tits bouncing in your dress. he paws at them, squeezing and groping. “fuck, baby. i wanna be inside you forever” he practically whines. his praises going straight to your messy pussy. he was already emberassingly close from how fucking hot you looked and how good you felt. his thumb went to pinch your clit, making you squeeze around him. “s’big leon ohmygod” your eyes shut closed as you felt the overwhelming pleasure starting to take over. his plushy tip hitting your soft spot with every thrust.

“gonna cum all over my cock, princess? c’mon i know you can do it, pretty” his thrusts only get harder and faster as the speed of his thumb on your clit quickens. you scream out his name as you cum around him, the overstimulation feeling so so good.

he rides out your orgasm until his hips sputter, cuming inside of you deeply with a loud moan of your name. he collapses on top of you, his dick softening inside of you. “leon, can’t breathe” you hit his shoulder lightly. he just chuckles and sits up, pulling out of you before kissing you again. he admired your fucked out state, your makeup completley ruined now. he takes a few tissues, kissing your thighs before cleaning up the area around your ruined pussy. you yelp as his tounge enters your sensitive hole, lapping the mixture of your release up with his skilled tounge. once he was done, he carefully puts your dress back on. he cleans up the mascara that was running down your cheek, and the smeared lip gloss around your mouth.

“thank you” you softly smile at him, sitting up and fixing your messy hair. “for what?” he tucks himself back into his dress pants, looking back at you. “for being the best boyfriend, i guess” you giggle, slowly scooting off the bed. there was an intense throbbing in your lower area, making you hiss. he chuckles, giving you one last kiss and helping you fix yourself up. “don’t gotta thank me, baby. i don’t know how i could live without you” he reaches out his hand.

“now c’mon. we’re already late” he stands and helps you up, your legs a bit shakey.

“give me my underwear” you hold out your hand for him to give them back. he gives a smug smile, just grabbing your hand and kissing your knuckles again.

“not a chance” he smirks.

masterlist

a/n: thank u for this request!!! i wrote this all in one sitting for once it was mostly smut but i can’t help it, i’m obsessed w him.

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delirious-donna · 7 months

Text

His Hands [Nanami Kento]

an: it's been a hot minute since I wrote for him, but with the latest developments and the insane amount of Kento content on my dash, I couldn't help myself. This is a love letter to his hands...

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: hair pulling, manhandling, light choking, mark marking, daddy kink, dirty talk, mating press, doggy (all implied), some comfort and fluff because he deserves it

Masterlist

Nanami Kento is not a white knight.

He is not a righteous man, nor is he morally virtuous. Nanami makes no qualms about expressing what matters most to him – his time, his students and most importantly, you. If that means he has to stray into the murky grey areas of ethics then so be it. If that means there is collateral damage in ensuring the safety of his precious priorities, it matters not. However, Nanami Kento is a good man.

Fatigue has been his constant companion these past few weeks. His eyes are weary and less focused than usual, his jaw tight with seemingly endless worry and his hair tousled as if he had run fingers through it time and again. You didn’t know the exact cause of his current demeanour, all you did know was that it was your job to relieve it, at least temporarily.

Hazel eyes met yours. A tight smile faint on his lips whilst you moved from being tucked into his side to straddling his lap. Kento’s head fell back against the couch, his gaze bouncing between your eyes, simply content to observe whatever it was you were up to. Your fingers delicately wrapped around his wrist, brushing against the heavy weight of his timepiece and lifting it to your chest. His hands were rough, callouses built up along the edges of his fingertips and palm through extended training and workouts that would see him dripping in sweat.

“Y’know… I’ve always loved these hands.” An exploratory finger ran over his knuckles, the skin shiny and new from where they had not long been split open. It wasn’t an exaggeration–you did love his hands and what they could do.

An amused huff was his reply, fingers flexing in and out of a loose fist whilst you continued your journey over the wide expanse that was his hand—traversing the depths of his life line only to circle down and stroke over the pad of his thumb. How many times had you helped to patch him up after being injured in the line of duty? Too many. Bloody rags filled the bathroom sink and the smell of antiseptic stung your nose, but you’d rather do it yourself than let him tend to himself. There was no point in telling him you worried, he knew that, instead you filled the silence with the mundane moments of your day to distract him from the stark contrast of his horror-filled one.

“They’re strong and they keep me safe,” you muse almost to yourself. Unbeknownst to you, Kento’s eyebrows lift. His eyes sharpen, throwing off the dregs of tiredness to watch more fixedly at you touching him with a reverence he didn’t believe he deserved. Would you still love them if you knew what he had done with them? Of the violence they had been a part of, the injuries and deaths he had inflicted with them. As if you didn’t already know…

“Sweetheart–” The argument he had readied fell away when you lifted his hand higher, towards your throat. His thick fingers could feel the steady beat of your pulse, no jump in fear of danger, only complete trust. He swallowed; the bob of his Adam’s apple near painful.

Your breathing sped up, knees shuffling forward to bracket his lean hips and pressing your delicate skin further into his careful grasp. Memories rose to the surface of your mind like stones skimming across a peaceful lake, rippling outward until the phantom sensations of days gone by washed over you.

The searing burn of Kento’s large palm swatting at your soft ass; whether in encouragement when your thighs tired of riding him to completion or in admonishment for some very deliberate attempts at stealing away his attention in the midst of his paperwork.

The gentle grip of your ankles when he folded your thighs flush against your chest to be able to plunge deeper into your sopping cunt. His tender hold was the perfect counterbalance to how savagely he was splitting you open. Lazy circles of his thumbs against your delicate ankle bones all whilst you ringed his cock with thick cream and his pelvis smacked wetly against you.

The prickle of your scalp at the sudden yank at the roots of your hair. That deliciously big, thick hand that you adored wrapping your hair so tightly into a makeshift ponytail that you had no choice but to rear back. Warm breath fanning your cheek and neck, the deep rasp of Kento’s words caressing your ear despite how depraved his words were. “Fuck… that’s it, baby… Taking Daddy’s cock like a champ… Let me see that arch… Look at this pretty pussy sucking me back in…”

Nanami had a way of handling you exactly as you needed at any given moment. He wasn’t afraid you’d break like some fragile doll, knowing that you more than enjoyed his manhandling. He could sense how turned on it made you when he would scoop you up like you weighed nothing. Taking your weight into his arms when he fucked you against the hallway wall in those moments he simply couldn’t wait to reach the bedroom. You were his pliant little cocksleeve. His perfect pussy.

With the rough came the smooth. How tenderly his fingers would coast down the length of your spine in the warmth of the morning, stopping to admire the curve of your waist, the flare of your hips and the ripple of your backside when he squeezed it lightly.

The soft touches against the bruises he had left the night before on your waist and hips. Each one a mark of his possession that he would never fail to become aroused by. The marks of his fingertips, the indent of his teeth on the swell of your sensitive inner thigh. If he were an animal he would scent mark you like the dog he sometimes felt like, rub himself all over you until you were bathed in his musk.

Interlocked fingers and tickles on the palm of your hands. The reassurance that you were by his side when you strolled the sidewalk together, Kento always nearest the traffic and the ability to tug you close with the flick of his wrist.

“I don’t care what these hands might have done to those that deserved whatever fate they befell. All I know is that I love them, and there isn’t anyone I would trust more to hold my heart.”

He nodded, and you knew that would be the best you would get in the form of agreement to your words. The coiled muscles in his forearm tightened, tendons contracting and his fingers squeezing a fraction tighter atop your carotid arteries. You hummed in contentment, eyelids growing heavy and his hand slipped free of your loose hold to rest over your heart whilst the other pressed between your shoulder blades to bring you to his lips.

So, no, Nanami isn’t a white knight but he is the best man you’ve ever been fortunate enough to meet. You would help him face whatever demons were lurking nearby, and with your support and unconditional love, maybe–just maybe–he’d make it back to you in one piece.

Heaven knows he deserved some time off.

#delirious writes #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami kento smut #nanami fluff #jjk smut #jjk fluff

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pandoraslxna · 12 days

Note

hi luna, i found ur fics on ao3 and ran my ass to tumblr bc i just needed more of ur writing. you're so talented!!

i was wondering if you could write a lo'ak x reader story similar to the step bro!teyam fic where he makes contact with the sex pollen. it could be step bro!lo'ak or just reader's bsf idm bc i've been thinking abt that fic for agessss and i'd die for a lo'ak version even where reader is the one that touches the pollen instead 😭🫶 pretty pls and thanks in advance （╹◡╹）♡

Forbidden desires

adult Stepbro!Lo‘ak x female omatikaya reader

Words: 3.8k

Summary: Nine times out of ten, when you were sent to one of those old, abandoned RDA outpost facilities, it went just fine. But there's always that tenth time.

Warnings: explicit smut, stepcest (they’re not blood related), sex pollen, cowgirl position, creampie, teasing, praise

Nine times out of ten, when you were sent to one of those old, abandoned RDA outpost facilities, it went just fine. But there's always that tenth time. And of course it’s when your accompanied by your older stepbrother, who somehow seemed to magically attract any kind of danger ever since he was a kid.

Scavenging abandoned laboratories for essential supplies that the clan could use was usually safer than it sounded, but this place, it was far off your usual research zone and Jake- dad, he said you could call him dad. Well dad said, it would be better to not go alone this time, just in case.

The once bustling scientific havens now stands as a relict of the past, slowly succumbing to the relentless embrace of nature. The laboratory emerges from the foliage, structure weathered and worn by time. Moss and ivy clings to the cracked walls, intertwining with rusted metal equipment. Vines creep through broken windows and shattered glass, casting intricate patterns of sunlight onto the decaying floors.

This place smells sharp, metallic, so much like tawtutes [humans] and the rotting smell of death and burnt earth they leave behind. Not exactly a pleasant scent.

Inside, a sense of eerie tranquility fills the air. Dust particles dance in the faint beams of light that manage to pierce through the overgrown canopy. Dilapidated shelves line the walls, remnants of long-forgotten experiments, holding faded vials and forgotten notes.

Lab benches, once polished and pristine, now bear the scars of abandonment papers lay strewn across the floor, their text faded and illegible. The hum of electricity has long been silenced, replaced by the gentle rustling of leaves and the fluttering wings of Riti [Stingbats] that were abruptly woken by the two na‘vi entering the long forgotten building.

Amongst the ruins, you search meticulously, your eyes scanning for useful remnants. You carefully examine cabinets, hoping to uncover unused medicine, bandages, exo packs that are still intact or any other useful tools.

Your stepbrother however, seemed to have other plans in mind.

"You shouldn’t touch that", you said, snatching his wrist mid way of him prodding at what you hoped was a fake skeleton. Lo‘ak let out a chuckle as he gazed down at you, both of his brows raised in amusement as he wriggled his hand free of your hold.

"Relax, tsmuke [sister]. Are you always this uptight when going on your little adventures?"

"I‘m not uptight, Lo‘ak. I‘m being careful", you said, shaking your head. "Jak– Dad taught me to be. You never know what the vrrteps [demons] could possibly be hiding here. And this isn’t an adventure, we‘re here to get supplies!"

"Right, of course. We‘re on a very important mission here", Lo’ak scoffs sarcastically, then proceeds to yank at the skeletons arm and point it in your direction, poking your hip with the boney finger when you roll your eyes at him. "You think they have traps set here to capture cute na‘vi girls? Ohh, isn’t that scary?"

"You’re an idiot", you giggle, swatting the hand away and playfully slapping your stepbrothers arm.

You both then take the steps up to the second floor of the building, and when you round a corner, you stop dead in your tracks. There was a "DO NOT ENTER" sign taped to the door that was slowly starting to peel off.

Experiments on animals or even na‘vi weren’t really uncommon, and you knew the horrors that the RDA was capable of, had heard and seen it yourself, especially in those research laboratories. Which is why you weren’t sure if whatever awaited behind this door was worth the few extra exo packs and bandages.

"We shouldn’t–"

"Oh, yes we should", Lo‘ak is quick to cut you off, all too eager to push the heavy metal door open. A rush of stale air fills your nostrils and you grimace at the smell.

"I should’ve just asked Neteyam to come with me", you mumble under your breath, closely following Lo‘ak into the room, who had a wide, excited grin on his face.

"And miss out on all the real fun?" He chuckles, shaking his head. "Yeah, you two would clearly make the better duo."

Rolling your eyes, you couldn’t help the feeling of unease that grew inside you, your eyes darting around the room, while your stepbrother's curiosity only intensified. Ignoring your trepidation, Lo‘ak stepped forward, drawn to a large, dusty table at the center of the room.

Among the scattered papers and broken equipment laid a few conical flasks, some of them still filled with droplets of a strange liquid.

Turning on your heals you took a quick 360°-spin. The room was small enough to get an overall view in less than a few seconds. There was nothing but this table and broken laboratory equipment. Nothing that seemed to be of worth for the clan, so you glanced back over your shoulder, already heading back to the door as you pleaded, "Lo‘ak, come on. There’s nothing in here, let’s just go back."

Lo’ak however, couldn't resist the temptation to tease you, playfully waving one of the glasses around. "Killjoy", he mutters under his breath, before shouting, "Here, catch", and throwing the conical flask in your direction. You shriek as you jump around to try and catch the glass in time, but it slips right past your fingers.

You both watch it fall like it’s happening in slow motion, until it bursts on the floor and the glass shatters in thousand little pieces.

As soon as the liquid inside makes contact with the tiled floor, it morphs into a small cloud of steam that smells awfully sweet and you end up coughing a few times before sending a glare in Lo‘aks direction. Sucking in a sharp breath, he makes an apologetic face and rushes to your side, careful not to step in any of the glass shards. "Shit, sorry! I‘m so sorry, are you hurt?"

"No, skxawng [moron]. I‘m fine", you clear your throat, "Great mother, you’re acting like such a child sometimes…"

"Yeah, I hear that a lot", he grins and you can’t help but smile at the coy flick of his tail. "C‘mere, can’t let you get hurt or dad will skin me", he murmurs, pointing at the glass, before scooping you into his arms and carrying you out of the room.

A heavy sigh leaves your lips and tickles Lo‘aks neck as you rest your chin on his shoulder. Your heart was still pounding from the scare, harder than you would like to admit. Nuzzling closer to his neck, you allowed your eyes to rest for a moment, just breathing in the natural, soothing scent of his skin, while he carried you downstairs. He smells so much like cedarwood, leather and freshly cut grass, you notice. And something else that you can’t quite put a name on, but it tingles your nostrils and makes goosebumps raise on the nape of your neck.

"You smell good", you mumble the words before you can throughly think them through, while pressing your nose against his throat. Your lips graze his skin and you can feel his upper body stiffen at that. "Was that a weird thing to say?" You ask calmly, almost a little too calm.

There’s a moment of silence before Lo‘ak shakes his head and murmurs a quick, "no."

Back at the main entrance, he gives a light squeeze to your hips, signaling you that he would let you down to your feet now, but your arms wrap around his neck tightly. He just smells so good, you want to stay here for a while longer. Lo‘ak is strong, you know he could effortlessly carry you all day.

"Can you hold me for a while longer?" Your own voice seems so far gone, so far away, you don’t even hear yourself properly, don’t even realize you’re speaking at all. Your skin tingles where Lo‘ak has his arms wrapped around you, and you can’t help but giggle and squirm, pressing yourself closer against him.

"Tanhì [little star], are you… are you okay?"

"Hmh", you hum, crossing your ankles behind his back like a Syaksyuk [prolemuris] clinging to it‘s mother.

"Are you sure?" There’s genuine concern in his voice, one of his hands running up your back, feeling your temperature at the nape of your neck. "You’re kind of burning up a little."

Your response almost sounds like a drunken mumble, "hmm strange. My heart‘s beating pretty fast too." It’s followed by a little giggle, and Lo‘ak frowns.

He‘s not panicking, not yet, but he knows something is wrong. This was really, really not normal behavior for you. He feels your face entirely too close to his pulse point, can feel your nose nuzzling against him, your lips brushing his throat. It’s not a kiss, he tries to make himself believe.

You’re not kissing up and down his throat. You’re not, because that would be wrong. Why would you— and then he feels it. Your tongue. His whole body shivers at the wet glide of your tongue on his throat, and Lo‘ak swallows thickly, before coming back to his senses.

"O-Okay, listen, uhm, I’m gonna put you down now", he scrambles, untangling you from his body to set you down to your feet. Your knees seem a little weak and Lo‘ak can’t help but reach out to hold you steady, ignoring the way it makes you blush and lean in on him again.

It doesn’t take a genius to come to the conclusion that whatever was in that glass container must’ve been some sort of drug or whatever. As soon as the coin drops, Lo‘aks heart fills with guilt. His expression shifts to that of worry and uncertainty as he ponders if calling his father would be a good idea. He knows he has to make sure you’ll be okay, has to get you to the tsahìk, but he knows just as well that dad will most definitely skin him alive if he finds his precious adoptive daughter in this condition.

"I feel weird, Lo'", you snap him out of his train of thoughts. Lo’aks hands are on your upper arms, holding you steady while simultaneously keeping some distance between you and him. His eyes scan you up down, and he almost chokes on his spit as he catches the way you clench your thighs together, squirming, and fiddling with the fabric of your loincloth. "Feels really weird… here", you tell him in a hushed whisper, one of your hands bullying it’s way between your clenched thighs. Your eyes are half lidded and glassy as you stare up at him through your lashes, your cheeks flushed in a dark red.

Now he’s panicking.

"S-Shit", he sputters. His eyes are wide as he adverts his gaze to somewhere, anywhere else but you, trying not to look at his stepsister touching and rubbing herself over her clothes. That’s bad, that’s really, really bad. "Let’s just get you home, yeah? I‘m– I‘m sure there’s a cure to whatever it is that you have."

One quick glance down to see if you had even heard what he just said, and he finds you still clumsily rubbing your hands between your thighs, seeking some sort of relief. "But you", he swallows thickly, "you really need to stop doing that, okay?" Lo’ak knows he doesn’t even sound half convincing, and it takes him more than just a bit of effort to not stare at you right now.

You look back at him under your lashes, bite your bottom lip and shake your head and he knows you’re doing that on purpose— working him up with those helpless little noises, sweet sounds of need and pleasure, thighs clenching and unclenching around your own hand.

"C-Can’t you just help me? Please, I- I need you."

One of your hands then closes around his wrist and before he realizes to where you’re guiding him, his palm cups your still covered cunt. He feels your slick drench the woven coverings under his fingertips and his eyes widen. "Need you here", you plead. "It hurts so bad, Lo‘ak. I‘m so empty."

"I– I can’t, we shouldn’t—" Lo’ak shakes his head, seemingly torn, but suddenly your lips press against his and he just can’t find it in himself to pull away.

Your lips are so soft, softer than he imagined (not that he imagined what kissing you would be like, ever) and the moment Lo‘ak finds himself kissing back you surge forward, the grip around his wrist tightens, urging him to stay right there, teeth nipping at his bottom lip until his lips part and he can taste you, your tongue slipping inside his mouth, your salvia mixing with his.

Your kiss is forceful and he’s so much more into it than he thought he’d ever be. And when you pull back your lips are red and wet, and he knows his mouth is probably a perfect mirror to yours.

"Fuck, tanhì, baby", he whispers, "Gonna get me in trouble…" And in an instant he’s on you again. His tongue tingles as it curls around yours, with drool running down his chin as he backs you up against a tree. You cling to him, desperate and wanting, not letting go of his wrist until he makes you understand that he’s only pulling away to get that damn loincloth out of the way. It nearly rips with the effort of getting it off, but when he finally succeeds you both clumsily pull each other to the ground.

This is wrong, he thinks as he spreads your legs opens. This is so wrong, he thinks as he runs his hands up and down your body, your chest, pushing your top out of the way.

You look so beautiful like this, chest heaving and covered in a thin layer of sweat. Hair messy and eyes dark with lust, pupils so blown it should make him worry, but he can’t bring himself to care when his gaze falls to the space between your thighs where slick oozes out of you in a concerning amount.

"Please- Please put it in, I need you", you slur, spreading your thighs further apart. "Need you inside."

Your pussy looks red and puffy, so sensitive as he runs two digits through your folds and then gently pushes them in. You gasp, but open up perfectly for him. It’s not enough, Lo‘ak can feel it. He curls his fingers, pumps them in and out a few times to hear those sweet moans tumble from your parted lips.

"You have to promise you won’t hate me after this", he says under his breath. His thumb glides over your clit, gently pushing its little hood up to bring the little nub into view and he can almost feel it throb under his touch. "I‘m just helping you out because you asked for it, alright?" Lo‘ak says it as if he’s talking to himself, reassuring that you want this, it’s okay, and maybe it actually is. Peeling his eyes away from the mouthwatering sight between your thighs he finally looks back up at you, swallowing the salvia that has been pooling in his mouth. "Promise you won’t hate me. Please." The restrain is clear in his voice, but he’s nowhere near as needy as you are. "C’mon, baby, say it. Tell me with your words."

"I won’t hate you, Lo‘ak just please–" Suddenly you shove him by the shoulders, rolling over until you’re the one straddling him, pinning him down to the ground. Your hand impatiently reaches between your thighs and feels for his cock, before repositioning it to prod his tip at your entrance. He bucks up into your hand as you give his cock a few pumps, pre-cum dribbling through your fingers.

The sight of him beneath you sends a throb straight to your cunt.

Lo‘ak sucks in a breath just as he’s about to tell you to wait, slow down, but then you‘re already slamming yourself down onto him without remorse. Fuck, it's so easy. Fits right in like a glove; overwhelmingly wet and warm, a terrible combination that scares him.

A punched out moan breaks from his throat as he feels the tightness of your velvety-like walls envelope his length. He’s so deep inside you, he can feel your cervix kissing his tip and it sends a shudder up his spine.

It's almost an out-of-body experience as you get on your haunches and lift yourself up, the head of his cock still nudged against your entrance, and he watches your gleaming lips part before you sink all the way back down again, taking him into the softest, most delicate parts of yourself.

Lo‘ak feels it and knows that he can’t change anything about the way he’s completely surrendering to your control- and he absolutely fucking loves it.

It’s so wrong, but that’s what brings a tingle to his fingertips. So dirty, but that’s what makes heat raise under his skin like a fire burning down a forest.

Lo’ak watches the way your belly contracts visibly, in time with the hitch in your breath at the first few thrusts. Your thighs tense and your fingers finds his braids to anchor yourself, and his hands find your hips and push you down harder on his length and he’s startled to realise how soft you are now, yielding to him in ways he’d never have imagined once. You’re putty in his hands, ridden by nothing but pleasure. A carnal need.

It’s luck that the adventures in Lo’aks life gave or showed him at least a bit of reservoirs of self-control that his karyus [teachers] never thought he had, because after those first few thrusts, you ride him vigorously.

Lo’ak doesn’t know how you’re this in sync, but he knows you want him to fuck you hard and fast. With his hands still gripping your hips tightly, he drives deep and eagerly into your weeping cunt, welcomed by that glorious softness again and again, and you wrap your arms around his neck and meet his thrusts as best as you can.

"Lo‘ak", you draw out his name in a long, pathetic moan, "more, need more!"

"Great mother, you’re greedy, baby," he huffs out in a laugh, grips your hips and holds you down on his cock for a second longer than necessary, just to feel your little cunt pulsate around him. You struggle briefly, before picking up the pace again, bouncing harder than before, but also more uncoordinated.

"S‘just so good," you slur, sounding almost drunk. "You feel so good inside me. Fuck me harder!"

Your tongue lolls out and he catches you mid way, tongues meeting in a hungry, filthy kiss. You taste awfully sweet as you moan into it, and Lo‘ak can’t help but think you would want spurs right now, to urge him on all the more. As if he needs that when you kiss him like this, when you hold him so close he feels your tits, soft and warm and perfect, press against his chest.

His cock throbs and you’re starting to quiver now, distinct from the more deliberate movements you both make. It shows in your breasts, makes your thighs tremble against his sides and makes tremors in your stomach muscles.

For a moment it switches from bouncing to grinding, and Lo‘ak knows what you’re trying to do. You grind and rub your needy little clit against his pubic bone, let out desperate noises of pleasure while you hump him.

Lo‘ak makes a hungry humming noise in return which he feels through his lips, once you break away from the kiss, then a breathy groan when he captures a nipple between his teeth. His tongue swirls around the little nub before he tugs and he enjoys the way you clench around him at this.

One of his hands comes up to palm the other, kneading your soft flesh and twirling a nipple between his digits.

"Come for me", he then says, flat tongue gliding over your breast before goosebumps raise underneath. "Come for me, tsmuke. Do it."

The scream you let out is borderline pornographic. It brings tears to your eyes and nearly tips you off balance if it weren’t for Lo‘ak holding you, fucking you through it with short but deep thrusts that send you gasping for air. "Hmh, there it is. Good girl," he groans, "keep coming for me, baby, just like that. Let it all out for your big bro, yeah? Let me feel how bad you wanted this. Look at me."

You force your eyes to stay on him, watch him as you fall apart, rocking your hips for that little bit of extra friction, and Lo’ak feels all of it. The wetness where you are slipping together, the tightness, the little tremors of your body, the pulse of your clit as it rubs against him.

Lo‘ak doesn’t even realize he’s coming himself because he’s entirely too focused on you. He’s bluntly staring at you, eyes half open, mouth agape. It’s like he is trying to burn the image of your pleasure ridden face and your picture perfect body on top of him into his brain forever. He wants to keep it stored away just for himself, to come back to after this is over because he knows he can’t have you again. Because this can’t happen again.

The wet plap, plap, plap of his thrusts continues until your thighs begin to shake and he’s sure he has emptied even the last drop of his cum into your core. It’s back to just grinding then, wet bodies pressing together, closer and closer until neither of you can’t move anymore.

You’re panting, exhausted and spent, your chest heaving to inhale big gulps of air into your burning lungs. Blinking a few times, Lo‘ak notes that your eyes are halfway back to normal, pupils not as big as they were, your skin feeling less feverish but all the more sticky than before.

Good, that’s good, right?

"You," a pause, he swallows, "you okay?"

Nodding and a little out of breath you confirm it with a quick, breathy, "yeah."

There’s a long, long moment of silence, with just the two of you looking at each other, sweat still pearling at your forehead and messy hair framing your beautiful face. Lo‘ak looks at you like he’s afraid breaking the eye contact would break the spell and you would shove him away and call him disgusting, but you don’t.

"I'm not sorry, you know" he says finally, when he can’t stand it anymore. "I would do it again. For you. I will do it again, in a heartbeat, if I...."

"If you have to," you finish for him.

Lo’ak considers pushing it, considers holding your face and speak more firmly so he could be sure he had your full attention while he tried to make you get it. "Yeah," he says gently instead, risking a half hearted grin that would surely give him away. "If I have to."

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linopls · 8 months

Text

kinktober day eight

breeding hyunjin x fem!reader summary: hyunjin figures out a new kink of yours. warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, degradation, humiliation, oral (male receiving), unprotected p in v 1.5k words

you haven't seen hyunjin in two weeks. neither of your schedules have aligned for fourteen days. you’re going what one would call boyfriend-withdrawal and it was terminal. you both had finally found a day that works, or a night. hyunjin told you he would be outside your apartment at 9:00 PM, it was 11:00PM.

you’re fighting sleep at this point. you’ve had a coffee, an energy drink, and have turned down your AC to levels that will keep you awake. but you were just about to give up and let sleep overtake you on your couch, when you hear the sound of keys and your door knob moving. you jump off the couch, almost tripping in the process.

before hyunjin can even enter your apartment, you’ve enveloped him in a kiss. he slides his unoccupied arm around your lower back and pulls you closer. he walks you both back into the room and shuts the front door with his foot without breaking contact. he drops his overnight back at your feet and wraps his now freed arm around your upper back, pulling your chest against his.

his lips are soft, everytime you kiss him that’s the first thing you think. they’re plush and soft and fit against yours like a puzzle piece. the way he kisses is perfect, it's never too sloppy but you can always taste him on your lips for hours after you’ve kissed him. he always knows exactly how to hold you to keep you close and drive you insane.

you start to slide your hands under his shirt and rub your fingers over his abs when he pulls away.

“baby, i have barely gotten in the door,” he laughs, looking down at you. “what’s up with you today?”

“i’ve missed you so much.” you grab the bottom of his shirt and pull it up and over his head. “so, so, so much,” you say, dragging your nails gently back down his chest.

“don’t start something we both know you can’t finish,” he says sternly. you can tell by the way he talks that there is love behind everything he says and that he’s missed you too, but you decide to play along and see how far you can go and push his buttons.

“i can finish anything i start, hyunjin.”

“go sit on your bed. i’ll be there in a minute.”

his demeanor change sends waves of heat to your core. and as you hurry into your bedroom you catch a glimpse of the tent forming in his shorts.

you take the extra time hyunjin has given you to light the candles on your night stand and shut the blinds on the window. you adjust the pillows upright and and adjust the comforter and sit with you back against the headboard while you wait for your pretty boyfriend to come back.

he returns after about five minutes, his shirt still off and his overnight bag in his hand. he places it down on your dresser before stopping to look at you. “come here,” he commands, motioning you with his finger.

you crawl to the edge of the bed and let your feet hang off the side. “get up,” he says, his tone never shifting, you obey and stand. he turns to face you, places a soft kiss on your lips. “kneel.”

you drop to the floor with enthusiasm, staring face to face with his crotch. you move you hand to palm him through his shorts, but he swats your hand away before you make content. “i didn’t say you could touch me, you’re so desperate.”

you whine. “‘m sorry.”

“show me how sorry you are,” he says, sliding his shorts down his legs revealing his long and dripping cock.

your mouth waters at the sight and you go to wrap your lips around the tip and he stops you again. “you’re such a little cockslut, aren’t you? hmm? just open your mouth for me.”

it was like you were playing ‘simon says’ the way hyunjin said anything and you compiled, no questions asked. he slowly slides his cock down your throat. its heavy on your tongue and reaches the back of your throat with ease, you gag and he pulls out, doing the same action again until you are used to the feeling.

“only been gone two weeks and i have to retrain you to take me, hmm?” he laughs.

hyunjin pulls your hair into a makeshift ponytail and whispers a small ‘you ready?’. when you give the go ahead he begins fucking your mouth at an animalistic pace, rutting inside you like he never had before. tears are streaming down your face and your moaning and whining at the feeling of hyunjin using your mouth.

“fuck, thats it baby,” he grunts between thrusts. “make me feel good.”

your eyes roll to the back of your head and you're humming around him trying to bring him closer to his orgasm,when he stops and pulls out of your mouth.

“strip for me,” he says as he walks over to your bed and sits in the middle, back against the headboards. you do so quickly, knowing what's about to happen next.

you crawl onto the bed and hover over his cock. “good girl, i didn’t even have to ask,” he praises while putting his hands on your hips.

as you slide down you’re overwhelmed with pleasure. you’ve tried to relieve yourself for two weeks but nothing feels as good as him. you slowly slide yourself up and down his thick cock, admiring the feeling. hyunjin stares at you with admiration and lust.

“will you ride me til i cum, baby?” he doesn’t need to ask, he knows the answer, you’d do anything to please him.

you slowly start to quicken your pace, balancing yourself by gripping his broad shoulders. pleasure hazing your mind at the feeling of his veiny cock sliding against your walls. hyunjin takes his hands and folds them behind his head. you whine at the lost of him touching you.

“you’re fine, baby. you can do the work today, i had a very stressful day,” he says. the way his voice is completely steady during this sends frustration and arousal to your core.

you begin to move faster. you move your hands to his knees in hope that can make you move faster but it doesn’t elicit a reaction from him. you whine again, worried you won’t make him finish yourself.

hyunjin must pick up on your frustration. “you can do it, baby. you can fuck me til i fill up your tight cunt.”

the thought of him filling you up makes you dizzy. you whimper at the thought and try to ride him faster, moving your hips in circles.

“oh,” hyunjin gasps. “does the idea of me filling you up get you going?”

you whine in response, uncontrollably clenching around his cock. which at this new speed and angle is hitting your cervix directly.

hyunjin smirks. “keep going then, baby. fuck yourself on my cock til i fill you up and keep going so nothing slips out.”

you’re going insane, your mind is full of hyunjin and you want nothing more than to drain him completely.

“come on, baby. that’s it,” he grunts. “at this rate, you’re gonna get yourself pregnant if you keep going.”

your brain short circuits at the thought and all you're able to do is moan.

hyunjin chuckles. “hm, is that what you want, baby? to be so round and full of me, hm?” he asks, placing his hand on your lower stomach.

“yes, yes, god yes,” is all you are able to reply with. tears streaming down your face, heart pounding out of your chest, and sweat falling onto the bed below you.

“keep going, i’m gonna fill you up, i’m gonna knock you up so good,” hyunjin is blabbering as his hips grind up to meet yours. he moves his thumb down to your clit and rubs small circles on the sensitive bud. you yelp in pleasure as he finally gives you some assistance.

“close,” you whine, grinding down desperately on his cock.

“fuck, fuck!” hyunjin is yelling at that point, humping his throbbing cock up into you. “please cum with me, please cum as i fill you and make you mine. please.”

hyunjin’s cries send you over the edge and you’re cumming all over his cock. your juices slipping all over his lap and your hips buck controllably. before you can even realize it, hyunjin grabs you by the waist and slams you back onto the bed.

“jin! jinnie!” you whine as he continues his brutal attack on your hole. hips spazzing in overstimulation.

“stop squirming slut, take my fucking cum,” he spits. “gonna fill you up til you're swollen and pregnant.”

he thrusts once more before you can fill his cock twitch and his warm seed spilling inside you. he slows down his motions and pulls out. he swiftly replaces his cock with his fingers. he holds your squirming body still with one of his arms over your stomach.

“i said i didn’t want anything to fall out.”

hehe

@rockstrhanji @hyunjinhoexxx @mixtape-racha @euphoric-univers @haruharu-egypt @shit-why-what @twiggoblin @kookiesbunny @virgohannie @nataliee10 @ihrtlix @aaasia111 @lolli4me @lilcutieana @changbinsrightboob @hanjisunglover @chansducky10 @elissasimp @boi-bi-ahaha @lilquokka04 @anglerfishiey @sirenscall1031 @might-be-a-rat @jihyun2monster @kpflyn @samsmitty @imwithurmother @meilix @summer3sworld @mysweethannie @kittykattime @linoots @yaorzu-blog @sofiaeli

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augustinewrites · 8 months

Note

augustine!!! forgive me if this is alr something u wrote in kuwtf but!! i just had a thought come to me !!! did megumi (when he was younger) ever message/text/call reader (or gojo… but i doubt 😭😭) to come and pick him up in the middle of smth he’s rlly not enjoying? like !! him being all hesitant and shy abt it !!! but he’s like “can you pick me up… please” or “… i want to go home” 🥺🥺🥺

“okay, while the kids are with you, you’re the new me. strict, but fair. fun, but still careful—”

“ugh, that sounds so boring,” shoko groans. “i prefer being the cool aunt who looks like she could be their sister.”

“uh oh, it sounds like someone’s already raided our liquor cabinet,” gojo teases, sauntering into the kitchen to steal some of the snacks you’re laying out. “maybe we should have nanami babysit shoko babysitting our kids.”

you bat his hands away, rolling your eyes as he pouts. “that’s not necessary, i believe in her.”

“so…you’re saying i didn’t hear you call nanami first?”

“go get changed,” you mutter, ignoring his question and shoving him back towards the bedroom. he goes, but not without placing a big wet kiss on your cheek first.

megumi, who’d been coming in to find a snack, makes an affronted noise.

shoko throws her arm around him, ruffling his hair. “don’t worry about us! i got your very lengthy text message with all the instructions,” she assures you, waving her phone in front of you. “in bed by nine at the latest, no watching sex and the city, and no ending up in the hospital, prison, or the news.”

“yes. by the way, i ordered some pizza for dinner and left some money so you can take them out for breakfast tomorrow, but please please keep an eye on megumi,” you remind her, swiping the crumbs off your hands and leaning your hip against the counter. “he likes to wander and has a problem with authority.”

“i don’t have a problem with authority,” the boy huffs, ducking out from under shoko’s arm.

“ohhhh, but you do,” gojo chimes in, coming out of the bedroom dressed up in a nice shirt and tie. you slip your arm through his when he offers, letting him lead you toward the door.

“have fun!” you call as satoru kneels to help you slip your heels on.

“not as much fun as you guys will!” shoko calls back. it’s followed by, “say, megumi, have you ever smoked a cigarette before?”

“ieiri!”

“kidding! you’re so gullible.”

_____

“a hotel room with one bed!” you gasp, in awe of the king-sized bed sitting in the center of the room. you seat yourself atop of the luxurious sheets, the silk smooth under your palms. “i forgot what this was like!”

gojo sets both your bags down, smiling. “do you want to order some room service? we could order a nice bottle of champagne, eat some dessert—”

you hum, uncrossing your legs slowly. “i can think of something else you can eat…”

you reach up to grab his tie and tug him closer—

—only for it to come off entirely.

“a clip on tie, satoru? really?”

his cheeks blush a cute, rosy pink. “they’re really hard to tie if you’re not around to help me!”

you toss it to the side, laughing as he pulls you into his arms, aggressively planting kisses all over your face. he walks you back until you both fall onto the bed, his fingers crawling up the hem of your shirt.

“wait, is that my phone vibrating?”

_____

“what if she’s the one, tsumiki?” you hear shoko sigh, exasperated.

“like your one true love?”

“yeah! what’s happening to me? i don’t even believe in that stuff.”

you and gojo exchange an amused look. no wonder megumi had texted.

“have you told utahime any of this?” your wise-beyond-her-years 13 year old asks.

“what? why would i do that?”

“if you don’t tell her how you feel, you’ll both regret it for the rest of your life!”

“utahime and shoko?” gojo whispers. “since when?”

you roll your eyes, swatting at his chest. “since always! you seriously never noticed? she had the biggest crush on her when we were in school.”

“i think i was just too busy looking at you.”

you can’t help the way you smile at that, your heart a butterfly beat in your chest “you need to stop, because we’re here to save megumi and if you keep sweet talking me…”

he tucks himself snugly against your back, setting his chin into the crook of your neck. “i’m more of a hands-on learner, so maybe if you show me what’ll happen—”

“finally,” megumi sighs, relieved.

“whoa,” gojo stops him, tugging on the handle of the backpack over megumi’s shoulder’s. “what’s this for?”

_____

the backpack was for exactly what gojo feared. megumi sleeps soundly between you both in that gorgeous king-sized bed.

“is this what the rest of our lives are gonna look like?” he asks, fingertips brushing your forehead.

“better get used to abstinence, pal.”

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #keeping up with the fushigojos #[💌—inbox]

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starsforselene · 1 month

Text

Prove it - Mingyu x Reader

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x Afab reader

Rating: explicit MDNI

Contains: Fingering, breast play, light ass smacking, doggy style, little dirty talk, unprotected sex, coming on body

Word count: 2.7k

Summary: During a late night hangout session, you and your friend Mingyu get into a discuss over whether all guys fall into the "boob man" or "ass man" category. Mingyu insists he's both. Naturally, further exploration is required.

Note: This is just Mingyu smut I have no excuse.

“Oh, c’mon! Be honest with yourself and with me!”

“I am being honest! I swear it, I don’t have a preference!” Mingyu exclaims as he leans forward on the couch, eyes bright with laughter.

You huff and shake your head as you fold your legs up on the couch, fighting your own laughter.

“Kim Mingyu, every man is either an ass man or a boobs man. The whole ‘I don’t have a preference’ thing is just a way to seem like a sensitive guy. In touch with your feminine side or whatever they say.”

Mingyu rolls his eyes and leans back again. He’s not annoyed, not truly, the smirk on his face gives him away. You’re half a pizza and two soju bottles deep into your routine weekend hang out and the conversation has somehow ended up here. Some would think it strange to ask your best friend what he prefers on a woman but after years of being friends nothing is off limits anymore; you know nearly everything about each other. Maybe part of you just wants to finally know everything about each other.

“I know that you have a strict preference for douchebags who pretend they’re more mature than they are to get into your pants but, I promise you that I genuinely don’t prefer one over the other. I-” he pauses and looks at you, suddenly a little more flushed. “I don’t have to prove myself to you, you know.”

His hesitation peaks your interest, now you have to know. You sit up and lean closer to him, gaze boring into him. He chuckles but doesn’t break eye contact, heat searing through you as his dark eyes meet yours. You inhale sharply, taken aback by the sudden pulsing between your thighs, fighting the urge to bite your lip when you see him lick his momentarily.

“So what were you going to say? That you don’t have a preference ‘cause it’s all just so great?”

He laughs and runs a hand down his face, leaning his head back against the sofa. He’s splayed out almost fully across it now, leaving you just enough space to still be sharing the couch with him. Typically, the fact that he’s sitting there in just a tank top and some shorts doesn’t bother you–he’s just a friend, after all–but his broad shoulders and large arms are just so…there tonight. He’s gotten bigger lately and you’ve enjoyed teasing him on his new hobby but now your body is reacting to the results of his hard work in ways you find surprising. The silence pulls you out of your thoughts, realizing a little too late that you were blatantly staring at the way his pecs stretch the material of his tank top.

“See something you like?” he says, raising his eyebrows comically as he flexes his chest.

“Stop it! Don’t change the subject!” You swat his arm–his very firm arm–and laugh.

“The answer is yes, okay? I don’t have a preference because it’s all great and I love every single inch of a woman’s body. As all men should by the way, even though they don’t.”

The way he holds your gaze as he replies shoots heat down your spine and into your core. Arousal floods your panties, causing you to clench your thighs together. You’re confused at how your best friend is managing to turn you on like this.

Mingyu’s eyes widen the smallest amount as he drops his gaze down to your mouth. In a panic you gasp, releasing your bottom lip in the process. Shit, were you just lustfully biting your lip at your best friend…and he…seems to like it? You search his face for hints of disgust or humor but find nothing but his widened pupils. You sit back against the couch, putting distance between you and whatever the fuck is happening right now.

“Did my answer satisfy you?” he asks, voice husky.

“Satisfy me? It takes a lot more than a response to do that, Gyu.” It amazes you how well you act unaffected when in reality you’re coming apart at the seams.

“I’m sure it takes plenty to satisfy you,” he retorts with a chuckle as he sits up straighter with what you think is a sly attempt on his part to adjust himself.

When he catches you looking he smirks; you played right into it–he wanted you to look. You take a breath in hopes that it looks like you’re annoyed when you’re pretty riled up.

“Oh? Are you trying to say something?”

“Yeah, actually. I am.”

You laugh despite the heat radiating under your skin. If he wants to play this game you can match his energy; that’s not a problem. You square your shoulders and stare him down, willing your heartbeat to settle even though your pulse has been racing since he mentioned you being satisfied.

“Are you insinuating that you can satisfy me?”

Mingyu swallows hard and you preen with satisfaction at how you’ve affected him. It’s short lived, however, as he leans forward to bridge the gap between you. The air feels charged, his eyes meeting yours with a fire you’re not quite used to seeing from him.

“I just want to show you that I really don’t have a preference, that’s all. Plus, I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about what it would be like to satisfy you,” he says with a sly smile.

All bravado leaves you along with the air in your lungs, you blink a few times to make sure you’re not dreaming. It takes only a few seconds to gather yourself enough to respond, the words leaving your mouth before you can begin to question it.

“Fine, prove it.”

He closes the distance between you with a low growl, capturing your mouth with his in a kiss that leaves you reeling. You wrap your hands around his neck, tugging him closer as he deepens the kiss, tongue claiming your mouth. With a groan, he pulls you by your waist until you’re straddling him. You can feel how hard he is already, his clothed cock pressing against your aching core.

Your hips grind against him, seeking friction to quell the aching between your thighs, moaning into the kiss as you feel his cock twitch in response. His grip tightens on your waist, moving your hips faster in time to his own grind against you. It should feel silly to be dry humping like desperate teenagers but hearing Mingyu’s whimpers and his body reacting to yours is intoxicating. Without giving it much thought you’re clawing at his shirt to get it off him, tugging at the material until you’re forced to break apart to take it off. He returns the favor and rids you of your shirt, eyes locked on yours, lips swollen from kissing—he looks downright sinful.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” He asks.

“I need to know if you’re full of shit so, yeah, I’m down.”

Mingyu chuckles and rolls his eyes; he grabs you by the back of the knee and before you can protest you’re on your back. He hovers over you, slotting between your legs with ease. You can feel him, hot and heavy against your core; you can’t help but roll your hips up to seek more, making him hiss and tut at you.

“I’m not surprised that you’re an impatient little brat. Sadly, you’re going to have to wait. I have a point to prove.”

Before you can retort, Mingyu shuts you up with a searing kiss. His hand moves down your side to still your hips, squeezing you once in a warning. You groan into his mouth, your hands sliding up his back to drag your nails down his skin. He shivers against you and you love how you can affect him just as much as he does you.

He starts trailing sloppy kisses down your jaw, stopping to nip just behind your ear, making you gasp and whimper. He smirks against your skin as he continues his way down with other small kisses, bites and soothing licks. You’re panting by now, core throbbing with need with every touch of his lips on your hot skin. His hands expertly snake behind your back until they reach your bra clasp, undoing it with the ease of someone who’s had the practice. You shimmy the straps down your arms and toss the garment aside.

You half expect him to attack you like some kind of over-excited teenager but he doesn’t; he drinks in your form with an almost reverent awe, making you shiver. Mingyu smirks when he catches you watching him, huffing a laugh before kissing you again.

It’s too brief of a kiss, his lips leave yours to trail down the column of your neck as he makes his way down to your breasts. He eagerly sucks a pebbled nipple into his mouth with a groan as his other hand kneads at your other breast. Your back arches in response, soft moans making way to more desperate whimpers and pleads when he tugs playfully on your nipple.

“You sound so pretty like that. Can’t wait to hear you come for me,” he mumbles against your skin as he makes his way over to your other breast.

Your only response is another strangled groan as you tangle your fingers in his hair to tug him closer. Not that you need to because he doesn’t seem to have anywhere else to be; he takes his time licking and sucking on your sensitive buds, never neglecting either breast as he moans along with you. He’s painfully hard against your cunt, cock twitching every time his name leaves your lips, he grinds into you as he ravishes you and it’s nearly driving you over the edge. You’re starting to get overstimulated, half-crazed and desperately wet when you finally beg for mercy.

“Gyu, please, please, I need you. Please,” you breathe as your legs wrap around him.

Mingyu looks up at you, lips deliciously swollen and dark, and laughs. For a moment, you think he’s going to shrug and ignore you but he doesn’t. He sits up and starts tugging your shorts and panties off, you lift yourself off the couch to help him take them off and pretty soon they’re somewhere on the living room floor.

He looks at you, eyes dark with need and runs his hand down your stomach, caressing your skin until he reaches where you need him most. You gasp as his finger dips between your folds, finding your swollen clit and circling it gently as he watches the way his hand moves. You watch him as he sucks in a breath and bites his lip, mesmerized that he’s just so into you. Your lids flutter closed with a groan when he slips a finger inside you, pressing it against your front wall until you’re grinding your hips into his hand with pathetic mewls and whimpers of his name.

Stars explode behind your eyes when he adds another finger, moving them in and out in time with each roll of your hips, scissoring you open for him. He’s moaning with you, low grunts of appreciation every time your walls squeeze around his fingers and how good he sounds is making the room spin and your release draw closer. Mingyu doesn’t miss a beat, using his other hand to circle your clit until you’re gripping the side of the couch and chanting his name like it’s the only word you know how to say, your climax bursting through you in quick waves. You’re left panting and floaty on the couch, but not for long.

“Turn around,” he growls as he undoes the tie on his sweatpants.

You oblige, flipping over and getting on all fours, backing your hips up until they met his. You notice he’s still wearing clothes and you pout, grinding against him until he grabs your waist and stops you.

“Can you learn to be just a little bit patient? I’m enjoying the view,” he teases as he grabs a handful of your ass.

“I promise the view is better once you’re fucking me. I’ll let you smack my ass, too just so you can prove yourself.”

This earns you a huffed laugh from him and soon you can feel his hard cock sliding between your folds, teasing your clit before lining up with your entrance, hands gripping your waist. He’s still long enough that you open your mouth to say something but just as you’re about to say something he finally penetrates you, sliding inside you slow enough to make your shiver as he stretches your walls.

Mingyu sucks in a breath through clenched teeth when he bottoms out, gripping you tighter like he knows that you already want to start moving, craving the sweet friction of him. Your walls pulse around him and you both moan; your head drops forward as you whine, circling your hips despite his hold on you.

“This is so much better than what I imagined. You feel so fucking amazing,” he groans as he starts rocking his hips, slowly, like he’s wanting to savor it.

“I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about this, too. Not like this though but it’s fine,” you reply with a smirk.

Mingyu stills, you can hear the head tilt in his voice. “Oh? Like how then?”

“Mmmm…you’re usually fucking me faster, harder. But if this is more your speed–oh fuck–”

He smacks your ass before gripping your hips again, picking up his pace until the room fills with the lewd sounds of his hips slamming into you repeatedly. He’s angled himself perfectly, each thrust in hitting your front wall hard enough that you’re breathless and dizzy, the rope in your belly already impossibly tight. You’re gripping the couch cushions for dear life, moaning his name every time his palm connects with the soft flesh of your backside, stars beginning to float in your vision as your walls start to clench around him.

“You gonna come already, baby? You talked such big game about taking me hard, what happened? Too much?” he coos as he continues to fuck you relentlessly.

The only thing you can respond with is a drawn out whine as he continues to fuck you, deep thrusts that hit exactly where you need. You can’t string words–let alone thoughts–together to retort, all you can manage is pathetic begging and pleading for more. Mingyu’s happy to oblige, hands gripping your ass cheeks as he kneads them to ease some of the sting from earlier. You start meeting his thrusts, lost in the feeling of him filling you completely, incoherent praises and pleas falling from your lips as your release draws closer.

“That’s it baby, feels so good. Keep fucking yourself like that, wanna feel you come around my cock,” Mingyu groans as his fingers find your neglected clit to rub tight, fast circles.

You come, eyes squeezed shut as fireworks burst in your vision, your body shaking with every contraction that rolls up from your toes and crashes over you. If it wasn’t for Mingyu holding you up against him as he fucks you through it, you’d collapse onto the couch from the dizzying release that rocks through you. He’s not far behind, hips jerking erratically as he tries to prolong your pleasure, deep moans and pathetic whimpers falling from his lips as he pumps into you wildly.

He pulls out without warning, the emptiness a little jarring as he groans behind you, hand on your ass to stop you from moving. You feel the warm ropes of his come against your skin as he groans your name breathlessly between deep moans.

He’s up before you have time to make a comment about your situation, disappearing into the bathroom down the hall and coming back with a washcloth.

“Sorry I didn’t ask, felt it was a better option than the alternative,” he comments as he wipes you down.

“I’m on birth control but I guess you wouldn’t know. Thanks for uh, cleaning up the mess for me.”

“Would be rude if I didn’t, you know? Anyway, hope that you believe me now,” Mingyu chides with a smile.

“I’m not convinced, if I’m honest. I’ll need further research to come to a clear conclusion,” you say as you get up to get dressed.

“Oh, you’ll be coming, alright.”

#mingyu imagine #mingyu smut #mingyu fic #mingyu x reader #svt smut #svt imagine #svt fic #fic

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