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bunnys-kisses · 1 month

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bright as the morning

simon "ghost" riley

cw: plus sized!reader, smut, pwp, body worship, possessive behavior, jealousy, age (early 20s/mid 30s), simon can pretty much bench-press you, oral sex, missionary the mating press

bunny says: like fic? leave a comment! really like the fic? request your own! (title inspired by hozier's 'too sweet')

there was a period of time you thought you were ugly. you thought guys either ignored you or made comments because of your size. the sight of you made them gag and they'd rather be single than date you. even now with more confidence, you still couldn't believe when men hit on you.

you were waiting for your boyfriend at the mechanic's shop. you were in nothing too special, just wanted to join simon as he got his car. but you were adamantly listening to a mechanic around your age talk your ear off about cars. you thought he was just being nice.

but then you felt the presence of your boyfriend. the air got cold when he was near and he looked over you like a shadow, "the car's here."

you looked over and smiled up at your lover. he took your hand in his hand and headed away from the mechanic. you tried to keep in pace with him but his strides were just too big. then in front of the car, he looked over at he other man and pulled you close to him and kissed you through his mask.

"my doll." he said quietly, "was he causin' ya any problems?"

you looked up at him and shook his head, "nope. he was just being nice."

he chuckled, "yeah... nice. let's get ya home, i heard you were makin' me somethin' special for dinner." then pulled away but kept his eyes on you.

you smiled, "it's canned soup, simon." and turned away to get to the other side of the car. you could feel his heavy gaze on you as you got into the vehicle. simon got in soon after, you didn't even notice the look he gaze the other man as he put his hand on your thigh.

he pulled away for a moment to put the keys in the ignition, but it was soon back on your thigh as he pulled away and headed home. the entire way home, his large hand was on your thigh. his strong fingers squeezed a little at their softness.

"are you okay?" you asked as you looked to him. you placed a hand over his, the roughness of his knuckled brushed against you palm.

"fine, love." he said gruffly.

you sighed, "i know you better than you know yourself then. tell me, did the mechanic over change you?"

"nah." he said, "just some punk talkin' to my girl."

you raised an eyebrows, "simon. he was just being sweet. nothing to be jealous over." you patted his shoulder and continued to look at him.

he replied, "after all these years, ya still don't know how beautiful you are." then looked over quickly to reach over and pinch your round cheek, "prettiest damn girl i've ever seen."

simon knew exactly how he was going to show how beautiful he thought you were. he liked how your thighs touched together, he loved the roundness of your face. he loved how you felt in his arms. you never held a gun, you never had to starve while on missions. you were content with the life you led up to that point. it wasn't marked by violence. you were safe enough to be a little softer around the middle, and simon though it was beautiful.

even if all your personality was extracted, he would still worship you like a devotee. worshiped your softness, kiss the plush skin. perfect.

you were in your bedroom and simon had you in his arms. he was pulling the t-shirt over your head. you wiggled out of it and helped him get off your body. he dropped the shirts then felt you up, his hard grasp lingered around your arms. he toyed with your breasts and groaned to himself.

his mask had long since been taken off. you could see the scarring on his lower face. as he played with your curves, you leaned up and kissed him on the scar on his chin.

he sighed contently, "he can't have this. only me." he let out a short chuckle through his nose before he went in for the deep kiss. he thought of the young mechanic who was trying to hit on you. it wasn't that he couldn't believe that someone would flirt with you, he just didn't get that someone couldn't see that you were already a taken woman!

no one else was allowed to flirt with him, but him!

he soon dropped to his knees and pulled your pants down. then soon your underwear followed to around your ankles. he spread your thighs a little and dipped his head between your legs.

you let out a small noise and tangled your hands in his blond hair. your face felt aflame from his attention. you said, "simon!"

he chuckled, "too sweet." he kissed your thigh, "too sweet for me." then continued to orally pleasure you. he felt his soft thighs in his hands was a feeling that made him excitement.

you quivered a little and he held you up against him. you held onto his hand as his tongue lapped against your clit. you tasted like a dream, while a weaker man would expect his girl to taste like candy. but the nature taste of your wetness made his cock strain in his jeans.

"shit... simon." you whimpered.

he continued to lick at your sweet pussy and marveled in the sounds that you made. it was music to his ears as he heard you. he wanted to make sure you knew how good you looked to him.

a lesser man would ignore you for your size, but what did they know. simon knew better, he was a real man. and he loved a partner who was soft. meant it let him protect you.

he pulled away and looked up at you with wetness staining his chin. he said, 'c'mon, love. get those legs around my head." and then slowly got you up on his shoulders with your pussy right in his face once more.

he held you up by your lower back and continued to pleasure you orally. when he hit a sweet spot, your thighs clenched around his head. he made sure you were secure up there. perfect against him as made you feel good.

and with your hands in his hair, he felt amazing. his cock strained against his pants as he held you up. he often told you that it was like a bag of grapes when he picked you up. he was trained to hold up a lot more, so it was quite easy for him to pick you up.

you yelped from the sensation of his tongue on you, you panted as you held his head tighter. his forehead up against your stomach. it was a sore spot to acknowledge, but he knew how to make every inch of you feel special. even if you were insecure.

"always mine, doll." he said softly, his kisses littered the soft skin of your cunt. his touches were forms of worship across your back. he was a devotee to the religion of your love. he remembered the first time he made you orgasm on his fingers, he felt the thump in his chest. his cold heart shattered into a beating organ.

he had found a life post-war. something beyond blood and conflict. a place he could nestle his aching bones and rest. you had opened your heart and home to him, and he would be forever grateful.

it often shocked him that you weren't the most confident woman to ever exist. but he'd just have to show his worship every day until you believed it too.

he raked his blunt nails down your back side and over your ass before he held onto you lower back once more and tried to get as deep as he could against your cunt.

"please!" you whimpered, "i can't cum like this."

he said something then smacked your ass. he groaned between your thighs. it was his mission now to make sure you came on his tongue. he could hold you up all day if he had to. he felt you tense up and his assault on your clit gave way for you to hold onto him tightly and kicked out your legs as you finished on his tongue.

he chuckled as he got up slowly and headed to the bed. he placed you down gently and gazed at your naked body. simon saw the birth of venus painting when in a mission in italy. but he could believe he was seeing it for a second time when he looked at you.

you looked up at him, your face felt hot as you rubbed your wet thighs together. you didn't know what to do with your hands so you held onto the covers under you as you watched your boyfriend strip down into nothing.

that strong body, with a little more insulation than when you first met. but he was strong and imposing. he could still kill as effectively as he could when he was in the military. you swallowed and covered your face.

"don't hide from me. i want to see it all." he said as he gazed down at you.

you moved up the bed and he got on top of you. he handled you easily and with care. he loved the feeling of your softness against him. you felt like a dream, a warm heat he could find comfort in.

he didn't want anyone else to have you. he wanted you all to himself. to enjoy and love. to make him feel complete as he rubbed his cock up against your slit him holding your legs.

"i love you."

"i love you too."

he continued to rub up against you, teasing your pussy before he sank his length into you. he was tempted to pin you down to the bed, but he liked when you got all shy. he found in endearing when he made you blush so much that you hide yourself from him.

"do you like that?"

"love it."

he then slipped his cock into you, he sank in easily thanks to all his work on your pussy. he held your legs up as he pushed in fully. he exhaled deeply as he felt the air leave his chest.

you tried to kick out your legs once more but he kept them pinned to him as he started to rock back and forth. he moved against you, letting your wetness give him access to the deepest parts of you.

he moved against you and you held onto the bed under you.

"you look amazing." he said, "i wanted to kill that guy for talkin' to ya. i want you, and i want you all to myself. you're too perfect. all mine."

you looked at him and replied, you breathed deeply, "i only want you too, simon. i wouldn't want anyone else." you felt yourself get dragged as he got off the bed and held you up by the hips a she pushed down into your cock which almost left you in a mating press.

you felt your stomach in your throat as he pushed down into you. the sounds of sex filled the air as the two of you fucked on the bed you shared.

"i think you're just perfect." he said, "no other girlie like you. you make me wanna be a good man."

you replied innocently, "you are a good man." if you only you knew what he had done before he met you. he leaned forward and kissed you once more which squished your further.

he thrusted into you at a quick but steady pace. he watched your face changed the more he brought you pleasure. you were a sight to behold in front of him. he watched your body move against him, your curves shake with his movements.

you two fucked on the bed, well at the edge of the bed. it wasn't long however before you two felt close to orgasm. he cotninued to thrust into your body, he loved the feeling of the two of you against one another. it was a comforting feeling.

he thought you were sexy, but also a place of comfort for him. a place where he could rest his head and find content with life. he just thought you were amazing. the perfect woman.

with another hard thrust, he finished inside of you. and soon you clamped around his cock and came around it. you held onto the covers for support as he railed you. once you were over the tip of your orgasm, you felt the fight leave your body.

you both got to the top of the bed and cuddled in each other's arms naked. he rubbed your curves and kissed at your neck. he could feel the sweat on your neck. he sighed contently.

"simon."

"yes, love."

"you really do think i'm pretty?'

"i don't think you're pretty. i think every woman should be jealous of you." he chuckled softly as his lips went into your hair where he buried his nose in your strands. you were his mornings, afternoons and evenings, and no snot nosed mechanic is going to get in the way of that. <3

xoxo, bunny

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just-some-random-blogger · 2 months

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The Salt In My Blood

You were the beloved Jewel of the Realm, the youngest Targaryen born to Alyssa and Baelon. Though your nature resembled more a lamb rather than a dragon, you posed a threat at court, for a single word out of your mouth inspired a thousand actions from The King and The Rogue Prince. Thus, your match with the Lord of the Iron Islands.

Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader x Dalton Greyjoy | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, targcest (sister!reader), reader has valyrian features (silver hair, violet eyes), power imbalance, graphic depictions of violence/assault/murder/death, canon divergence/inaccurate timelines, ye old misogyny, fuckedupedness of men, smut (dub con, loss of virginity, piv, biting, marking, breeding kink, corruption kink, baby trapping, cockwarming, cunnilingus), internet translated high valyrian, angst, social commentary, typos, etc.

A/N: !!mind the warnings!! This is really yucky because it is. all men do is hurt women. Also I did basic research for Dalton Greyjoy and just used him cuz I needed a character. idk what he's actually like and I'm 99% sure this timeline doesn't add up so, just roll w it ok? Ok. If my internet translated high valyrian sucks, well, it be like that. And surprise surprise i made another song for a fic because i should make use of my music degree while im jobless 💔 my heart goes out to @arabellasleopardcoat because her fic capital really poked my brain and got me fired up enough to write/create again, even if just for this fic. i love you.

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @delicious-xx @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @risefallrise @thebullship @sa3losa @sloanexx @azperja @happilyhertale

Father, father, shining star, save my brother from the war. Mother, mother, hold me close. I fear brother won't come home. So, I pray, night and day, I do my duty here. Find me, oh [a] husband, so fierce with not a fear. Father, father hears my prayer. Mother, mother dries my tears. All my strife ends tonight for my husband's here.

"But what if someone sees," you whisper.

Daemon clutches your hand tighter as you hurry down the hall. He looks over to you, your expression matches your shaky voice.

Perhaps, had the conditions been different, he'd be softened by your words. The ferocity of his protectiveness would have made him stop in his footsteps and clutch your cheek. Perhaps he would have promised to safeguard you.

But these conditions did not elicit such urges from him. No. It stoked the fires bacchanal in his gut. The stolen taste of your honeyed lips in the garden was not enough.

Daemon finally brings his darling sister into his bedroom, and there, he answers you, "who would dare spy on the king's heir, the prince of the realm?"

Your breath quickens at the sound of your brother locking the door.

The prince of the realm stalks over to you, a dragon gazing upon a meek lamb.

Again, you whisper, "what if someone finds out?"

Daemon could growl. He almost did as he grabs your waist and sinks his head into the crook of your tender neck. You don't even react when he does this, save for your gasp.

Oh, how like you, how docile and doe-like, never one to raise your voice, or fight back, especially not with him.

"Let them find out, sister," he claws your clothing, "then they will not steal you from me."

You are so pliant as he squeezes you, so soft as he roughs you back to his bed. You let him handle you like he did your dolls growing up. He treated them with less than a quarter of the gentleness you would,; they'd end up tattered and broken because of him by the end of your playing session, much to your heartbreak.

Though you cried about it, you never once held it against him, because each time, Daemon would wipe your tears and apologize. He liked breaking your dolls. He liked being your comfort.

He knew without a sliver of doubt you'd let him do the same to your body. You'd let him break you, then kiss the tears off your cheeks. You'd let him, for he was your star, and you were his doll.

Daemon presses you beneath him. He lays you down where he sleeps. He kisses you, the way he has sometimes imagined he would while touching himself, or while in the arms of another. His long, silver hair falls cascades down his shoulder, joining your long, silver hair that's spilled on his pillows.

For so long, he's denied himself of you, because you were too pure, too darling to be tainted.

You whimper as he pushes your skirts up, bunching them by your ribs.

But now, it's all different.

His mouth suckles his way to your neck.

"Daemon."

Now, it's not about denial. It's about what's right. It's about what you deserve.

"Daemon-" you whimper when he reaches into the waistband of your smallclothes, "-wait."

He breathes hotly against your jaw. His hands grab your knees and parts them for himseld

You push his shoulders back, catching his attention. He is displeased, and not even your glassy eyes could quell it. He warns you with an annoyed sound.

You gulp but mutter anyway, "this is wrong."

"Wrong?!" snaps he.

You tense at his anger, yet even then, you caress his cheek gently, "I am to be married to Lord Dalton Greyjoy."

"And you would have me believe you want him?" Daemon quips, "that you do not want me?"

You push yourself up on your elbows. Tears begin to spill down the corner of your eyes, "Daem-"

"Why do you think I am doing this?" He pushes himself against your core.

You whimper at the contact. He is hard.

He grabs your wrists and pins them to your sides, "I do this for your sake, little girl. To save you from your prison."

You gulp and blink rapidly, your silver lashes lace with tears.

The slightest semblance of remorse flashes on your brother's face.

With your head lifted, you watch as Daemon brings his hands to your ankles instead. He rids you of your shoes and chucks them over his shoulder.

Slowly, he strips you naked until you are left in nothing but the jewelry and the stockings he bought you one before.

You cover your breasts, and he lets you while he kneads at your slightly parted thighs.

His eyes are glued on your womanhood, on the curls that don't see the light of day and the flesh that's never been touched by a man.

Daemon clenches his jaw as his fingers inspect the heat there. The two digits find molten wetness flooding your entrance. You make a breathless sound and squeeze your thighs, trying, with pointless effort, to stop him. His eyes flick to your face, the look of embarrassment, of shock, of pleasure visible to him. He debates forcing your legs.

He licks his you-coated fingers and tuts instead, "open."

You look at him, your Daemon, with the faint line between his brows. You close your mouth and lick your lips. Your hands find their way back to your breasts.

The sight is maddening, especially with how the jewel of your necklace looks between the squished mount of flesh.

"Open," he commands with less patience.

Daemon watches his darling princess part her legs for him. His trousers strain more than it did already.

He watches you closely and motions with a finger, "those too."

You do not immediately comply. In fact, you look at Daemon with pleading eyes. He raises his brows at your bratty demeanor, and shakes his head, "are you disobeying me?"

You see the threat in his eyes.

"Kessa nyke mazverdagon ao rūnagon aōha dīnagon?" Shall I make you remember your place?

You shake your head and pipe softly, "daor." No.

Finally, you reveal your breasts to him.

He smirks, "good girl."

Your brother kneads your delicate flesh and grinds his clothed groin against your weeping cunt. The sound you emit makes the feel of the clothes on his skin unbearable.

His grabs your hands and places them on his waistband. He looks down at you as he rids himself of his top. By the time his burning chest is free, you've gotten half the wits to undo his breeches.

His eyes don't leave you as he takes off his shoes.

You timidly pull his pants down, sitting up slightly as you do. You make a soft sound when his manhood flings free. Daemon shoves you back and does the rest himself.

"Daemon. I don't think-"

Your voice is crushed by the feel of his cock sliding into you. A rush of heat ripples through your body. He leans down and kisses your shoulder as you whine.

"Enough," he pants. He uses all his restraint not to fuck you dumb then and there. He grabs your thighs, pressing them into your chest. He can feel your tension. If he fucks you now, he could leave you unable to walk straight. But as sweet as that sounds, he doesn't actually want to hurt you, not that way.

Daemon sinks down to your jugular and kisses you there before he brings his hungry mouth to your breast. He sucks and nips, imagining it being heavy with milk for his babe, the babe he'd put into your belly.

The thought makes his moan and rut his hips.

You make a strained sound and your hands to push his arms. You call his name again, soft and shaky.

Daemon tries to ignore you, his hand coming to your lonely breast on the other side, but the persistent call of his name makes his sigh.

He lightly grazes your nipple before he releases your flesh. He trails kisses up your skin until he lands on your face, your face, which was now wet with salt.

"You need to relax. Mmm?" he coos, kissing your lips, "skoro syt gaomagon ao limagon? Hm?" Why do you cry?

You adjust beneath him, repositioning your thighs, digging your fingers into his nape. You whimper, "lēkia."

Daemon's belly burns. Look at you, crying for your older brother.

"Kessa, ñuha hāedar?" Yes, my little sister?

"Iksan zūgagon," you mutter, tears streaming down your temples. Your nails scratch up his scalp. I am afraid.

Daemon, selfish as he is, does not like the fact that leaves your lips. His brows furrow. He rubs your thighs in an attempt to comfort you. He kisses the corner of your lips, "hen lēkia?" Of your older brother?

You shake your head quickly, rubbing your thumb on his jaw.

His brows furrow tighter. His hold on your thigh tightens, "hen bona Āegenka Āzma?" Of that Iron Born?

You stay still. You take a moment before mumbling, "Viserys said I should marry him for my own good-"

"Fuck that cunt Viserys," he spits angrily.

Your lips quiver.

The anger in Daemon's chest dissipates as you rub the deep line between his brows. He props himself up, sinking a hand by the side of your head. He looks down at you.

"You cannot protect me forever," you whisper, finally relaxing beneath him.

Daemon watches as you lick your lips.

You gulp, "I am a Targaryen princess. I have duties to the realm, to my family."

"Your duty is with me," he grabs your hand, bringing it to his chest.

Your violet eyes sparkle as you examine his features. You tuck the long tresses that block his face behind his ear. Your belly ignites at the fierce beauty of your beloved brother.

"I burn for you," Daemon says, "I know that you burn for me."

"But Daemon-"

The gentle thrust of his hips stifle your words.

"Enough," Daemon repeats this time softer, head sinking back into the crook of your neck, "you have always belonged to me, and you know it."

You whimper and instinctively mold your body against him. Your legs tighten around his torso as his thrusts grow more and more confident.

Daemon kisses you, delighting in the gasp you give when he plays with your pearl. He muffling the sound of your mewls with his mouth.

"They insult us all by daring to mix dragon blood with fucking sea squid," he pants, "you were meant to carry my seed, be my bride."

You moan, feeling a foreign force in your belly.

"I will not let that sewer monster be the one to make you a woman," Daemon licks a stripe up your neck.

You tangle your fingers into the roots of his hair, "Daemon."

His nails scratch up your sides, "twas I that watched you blossom into womanhood, tis I that should be the one to take it."

Neither of you speak after he says this. You both simply whimper, wordlessly agreeing your bodies were made for each other.

The prince had not a single care in the world. He urges you to scream out to him with the flick of his pelvis. He didn't care if anyone could hear, neither did he care that anyone would see the viscious marks he was leaving all over your throat.

You were better than he had ever imagined, and he was determined to make you his. He was intent on emptying his balls in you, over and over again, until you could take no more, until you were too exhausted to leave, until your body had no other choice but to carry him a child.

And when he finally does spill into you, coming with a grunt and a soft, "you're mine," you, the virgin princess finally understand the fuss over sex, and reply to him with an, "I love you."

Daemon fucks you until his bed is soiled with a mix of your come. He fucks you until every minute movement from him makes you shiver and whine. He fucks you until your skin is marked with tender bites. He fucks you until you beg for respite, and then he keeps himself inside you after.

You were a worn little thing, and yet you managed to have the energy to still cling to him as you dozed off.

He kisses your temple and sleeps soundly, knowing he's done it; he's made you his. That was irrefutable. Only a madman would deny him of you now. He basks in the pleasure of your body, and in the knowledge his baby sister so wholeheartedly trusted in him to let him do this.

One can only imagine, then, the mortified horror you felt when you were given to Lord Greyjoy anyway.

This was not part of the plan. You were meant to meet Daemon. He told you you were going to speak to the king together, and yet here your eldest brother was, ushering you towards your captor-husband to be.

"My princess," Dalton says, reaching a hand to you.

You stare at his glimmering eyes, finding nothing but malice and lust behind them. You turn to your brother for help. You do not want to touch this man.

Viserys offers you none and looks away. It hurts when he does so, especially since he does so with such apparently scorn. He smiles at the man, "greet your lord. You will soon be wed to him, sister."

You muster enough artificial interest to smile and take the man's hand. Goosebumps form on your skin when he kisses the back of your hand.

He notices and chuckles, rubbing where he kissed, "such demureness. Do not be frightened of me, my dragon. I would not hurt such a pretty thing."

You clasp your hands together after he releases you.

"Not unless you ask," he adds, bursting into a laugh.

Neither you or Viserys return the amusement. In fact, the latter's face contorts at the distasteful joke. His nostrils flare, "you dare jest such uncouth things in front of your king?"

Dalton Greyjoy is unbothered, but stifles his laughter. He clears his throat and bows, "my apologies, my king. Tis the Ironborn in me. I cannot help my nature, much like you cannot help yours."

You feel light headed the entirety of this interaction. The room feels like it was closing in on you, and you kept glancing at the door, praying that your other brother free you from this torment.

He does not do so. He does not come. In fact, you do not see Daemon anywhere the entire day.

Dalton keeps you by his side, taking your arm in his as he makes you stroll him around the Red Keep. You do so, of course, no matter how strong the urge to run away and hide from him was. The entire time, Dalton recounts his stories of battle, his stories at sea, his stories of life. He's sincere enough, but you are not interested in the slightest.

"I think you'd enjoy the feel of sea salt against your skin, just as much you enjoy the whip of the clouds," he grins with genuine enthusiasm.

Any response you have is put out by his next words.

"I can introduce you to my salt-wives."

"Salt-wives?"

"Aye," he says proudly, "I'd say I have about twenty, but I cannot assure you its accuracy."

You are horrified. Finally, you have the gall to pull away, "what?"

Dalton chuckles, somehow amused, but his brows furrow, as if irritated, "we Ironborn keep salt wives in our ships, to give us comfort and warmth when the sea gets too rough. Is this princess so sheltered to not know this?"

You curdle when he reaches for your neck.

"You needn't be jealous. You'd be my one and only rock wife."

You scowl at his condescending tone, "I thought that was just a wives' tale."

He laughs. It is rich, amused, and foreboding. He shakes his head, "it's about as much of a wives' tale as your dragons are, princess."

Later that night, you weep at the king's feet, begging him not to marry you off to such a man.

Viserys does not hear it, and it is only then that Daemon finally appears.

When he does, it's as if the gods themselves breathed life into you. Quickly, you run into him and sob into his chest.

Daemon holds you tightly and glares at the king, "what have you done to her?"

Viserys scoffs. The dark room, illuminated only by the fireplace and a few lit candles, feels to him like it's darkened because of Daemon. He shifts where he sits, "I? I found her a husband."

Daemon's eye twitches, "you gave her to me! You said it just this morning."

You look up at Daemon, hopeful at the sound of his words.

"I said I would think about it once you report your patrol at the City Watch to me."

Daemon releases you to impose on his brother, "I kept your city clean from crimes and safe for the people."

"And where did you go after?" Viserys narrows his eyes.

You rub your arms as you watch your brothers argue.

Daemon does not respond.

Viserys turns to you, "tell your beloved sister where you went after your patrols."

Daemon does not move.

Your chest tightens at the silence, "... Daemon."

The said man opens his mouth, "I went to get a dri-"

"A whorehouse!" Viserys blurts, rising from his seat to glare at Daemon. He turns back to you, pushing past him, "I would know. I paid every whore in Fleabottom to seduce him."

Your heart leaps into your mouth, "w-what?"

Daemon is stunned.

"See now," Viserys is close enough to clutch your cheeks, "your beloved brother is a man like all the rest. No more is the dragon righteous than the kraken."

Your eyes begin to fog with tears. Your hands begin to tremble. Why was he doing this to you?

"Greyjoy is no less a dog than the rest of us. He at least, is honoring a tradition. Daemon honors only his cock."

You turn to Daemon, hoping to find this was not the case, but his expression says it all. Youlet a pained whimper, "you teach me so cruelly, brother."

"I teach you," he swipes your tears with his thumbs, "for your own good."

"You fucking--"

You scream in terror as Daemon lunges at Viserys. You reel back and watch as the two crash down to the floor, the younger of the two finding the upper hand. They roughly struggle against each other.

It only takes another scream from you, begging them to stop, for the kingsguards to burst into the room.

You can no longer stay screaming when Daemon grabs Viserys by the collar and slams him repeatedly against the ground, especially not when Viserys claws at Daemon's face to get him off. You dash forward just as the guards order the prince to stop.

You grab Daemon's arm, and out of instinct, he swats you back, hand hitting your nose with rage powered force.

You shoot back into a kingsguard, feeling your face throb in pain.

It takes Viserys screaming your name for Daemon to stop.

The impact of hitting the armored man makes your back twinge, but it does not hurt nearly as much as the back handed hit you received from your brother.

The kingsguard catches you and stands you upright. He quickly asks if you are alright, but doesn't wait for an answer because he then shoves Daemon back, putting himself between him and you when he tries to come near.

Daemon glares in offence.

"Throw him in the fucking dungeon," Viserys spits out as he is helped up by another guard.

Daemon fights back, but is no match against three guards.

He screams your name as he is dragged off.

You clutch your face as he tells you he didn't mean to hit you. You face throbs as he tells you he loves you, and only you.

For once, you doubt his words.

Viserys comes to your side, placing a gentle hand in your shoulder. You watch as he commands a servant to get something for your hit.

He clutches your cheek that was struck and sighs, "if you wed the Red Kraken, you will strengthen our hold on the Iron Lands. Dalton Greyjoy is a formidable warrior. I couldn't think of a more capable man to safekeep the Jewel of the Realm."

As he stroked your hair, you realized that Viserys was right. It didn't matter who it was, all men were the same. When your septa warned you of men's depravity, you believed your brothers to be the exception. Now, you knew exactly why you were called-

"Little lamb," Viserys coos, "I only want what is best for all of us."

You were too naive to believe in good things.

And so you marry Dalton Greyjoy the next day.

The haste with which the wedding is prepared is to prevent you from changing your mind, you figured. That, and to keep Daemon in prison for the least amount of time.

Part of you wanted to visit him, but part of you wanted him to suffer. In the end, you realized you were too weak to behold your brother as a prisoner.

Daemon screams and bangs at his bars, demanding he be released. But the prison guards have handled worse and throw cold water at him to shut him up.

He knew by the time he was free, he would be too late to stop your marriage, but still, he meticulously planned what he would do the moment he was.

That night, after the wedding festivities were over, Dalton takes you to your room and makes you his wife.

"It's been a while since I've had a virgin," Dalton says, caressing your cheek, "don't worry, I will be gentle."

You want to scream, you want tofight him back, but you remember you're not a virgin, and fear paralyzes you. You mumble, "m-my dragon riding."

Dalton pushes back bour silver hair and kisses your shoulder.

You can't help but think of Daemon in this moment, but it makes you feel sick, and so you will him out of your head. You mumble again, "my dragon riding may taken my womanhood."

Dalton pulls away and stares at you for a moment.

"I- I was told as a child, it happened to many Targaryen princesses."

He pulls his hands, which were on your hips, away then shoves you down on your bed. He smirks as he undoes his clothing, "then I can be rough with you, aye?"

You quiver at his gaze.

He laughs, shaking his head, "didn't I say I would not hurt you? Unless under your request?"

You push inch back as he crawls over. He grabs your ankle, then the other, causing you to panic. You instinctively kick him off, but instead of being deterred, he is excited.

"Sh, sh, sh," he hushes, "it will not be unpleasant, my dragon."

Your skin pricks with gooseflesh when he removes your shoes, your socks, and sneaks his hand up your skirt.

You whimper and turn away, finding you could no longer kick back when he seizes your knees.

"Please-"

"Shhh," he hushes, giving you the first solemn look he has this entire day he's been smug, "I've had much practice from my salt wives. You, my rock wife, will taste the fruits of my practice... as I taste you."

You gasp when he suddenly rips your underwear off.

" I swear to you, your body will enjoy it, even if your mind wants you to believe otherwise."

You muffle your mouth with your palm when you feel Dalton sink in between your thighs.

He was right.

The entire time he touches you, it feels like your skin was being scorched. Your heart was not in it, but your body twisted in pleasure. You hated that you longed for Daemon, even after the fact you were not enough for him; he was still the only one you still, and this moment proved it.

You were brought to tears at how pathetic it was. Tears streamed as you reached your peak, one of the many you receive from your... husband.

He handled you with carnal instinct, just as Daemon did, but unlike him, Dalton did not kiss your tears. In fact, he did not kiss your face once. It is you that initiates such a thing, amidst the throes of your lewd pleasure. He grabs your jaw when your lips connect, and quickly releases his load into you after.

Your peak is cut short because he pulls out just when you reach it.

You watch as he rolls over and goes to sleep without another word.

The next morning, the servants call you Princess Greyjoy and it haunts you.

"No need to look so sullen, wife," you hear over your shoulder.

If the cold from the early morning wasn't enough to make you shiver, the kiss on your shoulder was.

The ship rocks as you tear your gaze away from King's Landing, King's Landing that looked so tiny now from where you stood. A sea of tears laid between you and the home that will never be yours again. You turn to Dalton. He leans his elbows on the edge of the ship and looks up at you, "we can do many things to liven your mood."

You watch him as he rubs your hips. Your stomach curdles but you manage to offer a smile, "I... am flattered, but I do not want to distract the captain of this ship."

Dalton chuckles and straightens up, "trust me. The crew would appreciate it if you did."

You squeak when he yanks you into him.

"Right boys?!" he calls loudly, "shall I make a salt wife out of my rock wife?!"

The crew cheers and it makes your skin burn in mortification.

The next thing you know, you are thrown over his shoulder. He slaps your ass and takes you to his quarters. The crew laughs as he does.

You helplessly grunt when he drops you on his bed-- your shared bed. You silently peer up at him as he stares at you. You are releived he paces across the room, towards his table. He grabs something and chucks it at you. You flinch but manage to catch it.

He sits on the table as you inspect the pouch. You open it, finding herbs inside.

"I heard you've been drinking that," he says.

You look up at him.

"Haven't you?" he asks.

You smell it and wretch. It smells exactly like-

"Moon tea," Dalton says, making your blood run cold, "for the bastard in your belly.*

You are frozen in your spot. Your stomach drops when he stands and walks over. He grabs your chin. It is not harsh, but it strikes fear in you anyway.

"I asked you a question, wife."

You open your mouth, but no words come out.

"HAVE YOU BEEN TAKING THE FUCKING TEA OR NOT?" he screams, grabbing your neck.

Your hands fly to his grip. Your fingers attempt to pry him away.

You wheeze when he squeezes you. Your flail your legs and try to kick him off. You can't. Just as your vision begins to go dark, he releases you. You fall onto the bed and frantically try to catch your breath. You cough and hear him smash things around the room.

As so you behold the man who said he would not hurt you unless you asked him, brutalize the furniture.

You think your chances are better in the sea rather than on this boat. You slowly maneuver towards the door while he is distracted. Just as you are about to sprint, he grabs you and throws you back down on his bed.

"You stupid slut!" he screams, "you think you can run?!

You try to scream for help, but the pain in your throat when you try to stops you. Not a second later, you scream anyway.

He slaps you across the face, promptly silencing you. The sting is ten times worse than what Daemon did.

"I was promised a Targaryen princess, not some whore of a dragon!" he screams, kicking the chair by his desk across the room. He laughs angrily, shaking his head, "dragon riding, my arse."

Your heart drops as he storms over, "who's the father of your bastard child?!"

Indistinguishable sounds leave your lips.

"ANSWER ME!" he demands, grabbing your shoulders, dragging you to your feet. Your head recoils at the sheer force of it. You take a moment to steady your head.

Your eyes search Dalton's enraged features, hoping to chance upon a sliver of compassion... in vain. The sound that leaves your mouth is response to the bruising squeeze of your arms. You cannot help but whimper as tears stream down your cheeks, "you're hurting me."

He is further angered by this. He gives you a powerful shake. Your head lashes back again and you scream.

"Give me a name!" erupts the lord.

You no longer have it in you to hold your tongue, and so you confess, "Daemon!"

Dalton releases you. He is repulsed, "your brother?" He scoffs, "you revolting, little worm," he slaps you across the face, making you lose your balance.

Before you crash into anything, he grabs you again and keeps you upright. You can feel your cheek and lips swell at his assault.

"And here they had me believing you were some meek lamb," he laughs dryly, brushing your hair back, "you're nothing but a whore, grown from perversion and abomination."

Your expression hardens. You glare at him and rebut, though your head was pounding, "and your sea rituals are more righteous than my family traditions?"

Without another word, Dalton shoves you back, propelling you into his desk. Your skull crashes against the edge with a horrendous thud.

You fall limp onto the floor. Dalton cares little if you were dead or unconscious. He walks out of the room right before he can witness the red staining your white hair.

Dalton is no fool. He knows better than to disfigure a Targaryen princess.

He walks towards the wheel of the ship and continues the course to what his crew believed to be a shortcut to home. In truth, he was bringing the ship to its doom, to face you with with a trail of the sea.

He would crash the ship into a chokehold of rocks, and if you survived, if he found your floating body, he would keep you, as you proved your resilience. But if you were swallowed into the depths, if he was unable to find you in the debris, he would praise the Drowned god for your riddance.

The same want with his crew.

Of course, there was a bit of this that felt like suicide, but he knew he was too vengeful to die, so he knew he had nothing to fear.

When the Greyjoy ship finally reached the rocky pass, Dalton was promptly warned of the danger by his lookout, who he obviously ignored.

He ordered to hoist the sails, and, blindly, the crew followed, even through apparent worry.

It didn't take very long after for the ship to crash into the cliffs.

The crew clamors. They scream and panic, turning to their captain that could not care less. He pretends to steer them to safety, but he actually slammed them further into their demise.

The deck begins to crumble. The mast snaps. The sails break off. Dalton calls to abandon ship.

The crew don't need any more convincing.

One by one, each man for their own, they try to escape with their life.

By the time Dalton jumps off the ship, the thing is half submerged in the water, crumbs of it on the side of a rock.

It was pure chaos.

Dalton swims far enough from the destruction, and knows the gods smiled upon him and his decision when he sees a large wooden slab he can climb on.

He does just that and looks out to his crew, helping the ones that manage to swim over, commanding the others calling for help to simply swim or drown.

He looks around, trying to make out a body of a woman, a blob of a dress, a head of silver hair in the aftermath.

"My wife," he screams, "has anyone seen my wife?!"

He wasn't concerned, of course. He just wanted to know his fate as a husband, but this did make for a good alibi.

His surviving men look and swim around for you. They find no trance.

Dalton presses his lips, "little dragon couldn't fly away."

They take refuge in a cliff. Lord Greyjoy tells his crew not to bitch and panic because they will surely be found by a passing ship soon enough.

He had planned this shipwreck after all.

By the time Dalton and his remaining men were saved, a flash of red circled in the setting sky, hovering over the massive rock that held the shipwreck that bore the sigil of Greyjoy.

Caraxes screeches as his rider commands him to get closer to the scene. The dragon hesitates but eventually lands on the cliff. Waves crash upon the area, causing the beast to bleat when he is wet.

Daemon is frantic as he gazes upon the destruction. He is distressed unlike he's ever been. His voice is distinctly desperate and hysterical. He screams out your name, even though it was nothing against the roar of the splashing waves.

He heaves heavily as he erratically decides to dismount and jump into the water.

As he wades, he tries to convince himself that what he was doing was for naught. Perhaps you were not here to begin with. But the gut feeling was overwhelming; it was sickening.

He tries to believe that bottom feeder, Greyjoy, saved you before his ship crumbled. He tries to convince himself that cunt's lust for you was enough reason to keep you alive.

But he remembers the servant he threatened with a knife whilst demanding to know which route your ship would take. He thinks of how he almost shit himself while confesssing to Daemon that Greyjoy planned to pass through a rocky region as a shortcut. But Daemon's flown over that area, and knew it was out of the way to the Iron Islands.

After squeezing out what's left from that servant, Daemon's face falls when he mentions that rusted octopus had an argument with a servant girl that came to serve the princess a cup of tea.

Daemon was no fool. Dalton was a butish barbarian. If he found out you were drinking Moon Tea, he would do his worst on you for blemishing his pride.

And so he swam. Daemon swam, dove down, and searched for your body until he had to stop because Caraxes was getting restless. He commanded him to calm down, but he could only do it so many times until he, himself, was the same.

He eventually gets back on Caraxes. Daemon can't bring himself to leave just yet however, and finds himself praying to whatever god out there to return his love back to him.

Caraxes circles the area one last time before heading off. For some reason, Daemon feels the urge to check underneath a large slab of shattered wood. He commands his mount to lift it, and the dragon screeches as he does what he can with his hind legs.

The sound that leaves the prince's mouth is what could be described as pure anguish.

A head of silver hair floats up and wafts in the water along with a tattered dress. Your body garnered a horrid tone of grey and you were missing your shoes.

Daemon cannot contain the tears that gush out of his eyes.

Caraxes carries your body in his claws all the way to the Keep.

The way in which he commands his ride to set your body down is frantic and incredibly detailed. Part of him realizes Caraxes probably recognized you, considering the way he laid on his belly and sniffed you as Daemon buckled to his knees and lamented over your stiff and frigid body.

He speaks to you in High Valyrian. His salty tears drip on your salt water drowned body. He promises he will never trick you, never argue with you, and never make you cry ever again if only you open your violet eyes.

He rocks back and forth with you in his arms, unsure which of you he was soothing by doing this.

He swears he will turn the sea red with blood and burn the whole Iron Islands to avenge you.

He is incredibly uncomfortable of the chill of your skin. He shakes his head, telling you dragons must not be kept cold. He kisses your face in an attempt to warm it up. He recounts a time where you accidentally spilled candle wax on him, burning his skin, and tells you that you still need to make up for your offence. He tells you he will forgive you if you simply hold him back.

Viserys had to account for three dragons by the time he found out what was happening, one was Daemon, whose grief morphed into murderous spite. He threatened to slay anyone who wanted to take you from him. Not again. Another was Caraxes, who refused to leave his heartbroken rider's side. The last was your dragon, who felt the loss of your connection, and went into a rabid state mourning.

It takes 5 people to secure your dragon in the pit, 5 people to subdue Caraxes, and 3 people to separate Daemon from your corpse.

The king takes a moment to clutch your hand. His face flinches. Where once your hand was so warm, no warmth now remained. He steps back and watches the maesters cover your body and take you away.

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c3berus · 4 months

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# afab!𝐊𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐆 kinkshot ! — erotic asphyxiation (w/squirting)

‘this has to be the neediest he’s been yet..seems like work has really gotten him stressy..’ you thought pulling yet another moan from your pretty boy. you’ve been working releases out of him like there was no tomorrow, for the past hour and he’s done nothing but beg for more. you held his favorite vibrator onto his swollen clit, earning yourself shaky chants of ‘yes’ and how you ‘pleasured him so well’. you noticed his legs slowly starting to close around your arm along with the growth of his moans and jerks, and you hurriedly pulled the vibrator away from his dripping cunt.

“no!No!..s-so clossee! bitte m-meine liebe” he pleaded in his mother tounge, fat tears tickling down his rosy cheeks. you tutted in fake disappointment, slowly trailing your hand up konig’s body, his body twitching at how cold your hand is compared to his naturally warm body. finally, you made it to his mark littered neck before roughly grabbing him. causing him to weakly gasp while clinching his thighs together. konig’s nerves were on fire, it was like every single touch you placed into him sent him further into the frenzy of intoxication. he yearned for it.

“such a needy little darlin’, you dressed all pretty for me and now you want me to wreck you?” you grunted, tightening your hold watching as his face became red before he reached up to your arm and tapped your wrist twice. you immediately let go and a gaspish moan ripped through his chest. one you can only describe as sinful. you let him catch his breath and waited for confirmation. the green light that he was ready again. as you soon got a nod you grabbed his neck again and waited for his face to redden up before releasing his neck and swiftly putting the vibrator back onto his throbbing cunt.

konig moaned at the assault on this heat and reached down to get ahold of your wrist. he wasn’t pulling you away from him nor towards him, he just gently held your wrist and squirmed in pleasure. you let this continue for a bit before you noticed how dazed your beloved had become, you completely removed all stimulation from his body and situated yourself in between his plump bruised thighs. you freed yourself from the tight almost painful entrapment of your pants. as you sat there observing konig, you stimulated yourself for a second before double tapping konig’s thigh, a gentle gesture that demanded his attention.

“think you can hold it in a littlee bit longer doll? daddy wants to finish with his pretty boy, and fill him up so nicely for letting him help his needy toy” you’re voice was sickly sweet, konig knew it was a front for how well you were going to completely ruin him and he couldn’t want anything more. konig nodded, his eyes glazed with need and desperation. his eyes only seemed to come back into focus when he felt the tip of your shaft at his folds. he leaned himself off the bed and onto his elbows, your eyes and his alike drawn to konig’s entrance. you glanced at konig once more before slowly pushing yourself into his core.

you groaned at how konig seemed to pull you in. you waited as konig gripped you, it still amazed you how much you and konig went at it and he still managed to be so tight everytime. you let him adjust to your size before carefully rolling your hips. konig bit his lip and put his hand on your cheek drawing your attention from his cunt.

“bitte..give me all of you, i want all of you” konig begged his pouty muti colored eyes pulling you in. you nodded before laying konig back onto the bed and placing one of his legs over your shoulder and gently placing the other on your waist. without warning you started rutting into your boy with an animalistic pace. almost instantly your movements caused konig’s body to spasm in pleasure. this continued on and konig was practically sobbing at this point. you set a good pace before leaning down and leaving a valley of marks all across his mounds and his stomach.

you continued this for a while before pulling out and flipping konig onto his stomach, you pulled his waist up and resumed the assault to his sopping pussy. the room was filled with konigs broken sentences that kept varying for english to german and vice versa and your moans and praises to your beautiful boy. the bed creaked with every thrust and caused the headboard to nearly collapse under the speed of your movements. konigs moans became more and more high pitched and his legs began to shake and jerk. your thrusts started to become a bit uncoordinated and sloppy but you simply thrusted harder and harder until you heard konig let out a squeal that nearly became a scream and you felt your whole lower half and a bit of your stomach be submerged in fluid.

you came shortly after and collapsed next to your husband. he instantly tried to cuddle up with you as nest he could with his body still spasming. you smiled and massaged his thighs careful not to overwhelm him while whispering to him about how good he was.

“‘m such a good boy for you” konig tiredly mumbled, exhaustion overtaking him. you agreed and a leaned over to blow out the candles you had lit before hand, against konig and his aching joints wishes of course. once you finished you were both were surrounded by darkness. you were slowly drifting off to sleep with the promise of cleaning up once you both awoke, until you felt konig push himself back onto your dick. he reassured you that he just wanted to feel you inside him and laid his head down on your chest, kissing it before eventually letting sleep overtake him. you were soon going to follow as well until your phone received a message.

‘Capt. 🤍’

early physical training for you and gun cleaning duty for the big guy. give it a rest sometime, yeah?

you simply smiled replied with a thumbs up and drifted off to sleep to the sound of konig’s breathing.

so thats my take on a sub! afab! konig x male reader! be sure to let me know how you guys feel about this, I don’t usually write anything smut related butt if you guys enjoy this I’ll work on introducing this kind of thing to my blog. - s.

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buckyalpine · 10 months

Text

Barbie

Single dad Bucky x reader

Had this idea that I thought would be cuteeeee; Bucky's little baby seeing a real life Barbie doll for the first time.

Bucky's POV "Daddy lets go!!" Bella's tiny hand tugged on Bucky's much larger one, urging him towards the door, determination written all over her little face, "It'll start soon!"

"Alright peanut, I promise we won't be late" he chuckled, letting his daughter pull him with all her might, not wanting to miss a second of the new Barbie movie. He raised a brow at the strength his four year old had when she got excited. It was all Bella talked about since the first movie trailer came out and ever since, the house was filled with every shade of pink imaginable. Bella had marked the date on the fridge, counting down the days though Bucky decided to wait a few weeks before taking her so the crowd wouldn't be too much for her, wanting her to actually enjoy the movie.

"Ready peanut?" Bucky scooped her up in his arms, carrying her over to the car, adjusting the frilly pink tutu she had on so he could buckle her in the car seat. She had been previously unamused at his lack of outfits that would match Ken but ultimately settled on something much, much better.

"Ready daddy" She nodded, straightening out the matching tiara she had placed in on his head, hardly able to contain her little squeals of excitement, double checking the pink heart magnets she'd stuck on his arm. Bucky pecked her chubby cheek before getting into the drivers seat and pulling out the car, just as excited himself to have a relaxing day with his babygirl.

Your POV

You huffed, smoothing out the front of your dress, hyping yourself up in front of the mirror before slipping on your heels, taking them off and putting them back on again.

Then slipping one off before strapping it back on firmly in place.

There was no reason for you to be nervous.

You looked amazing. There was no doubt there. That shade of pink was radiant against your skin. Not a hair out of place. Your makeup was perfect. Yet your heart wouldn't stop breathing just a smidge too fast. You deserved this. After a long, exhausting week you deserved a day to yourself to just feel good and relaxed. Yet your nerves were lit ablaze while you double checked your lipstick.

You were a grown ass woman, you didn't need to explain yourself to anyone as to why you were seeing this movie alone.

Dressed up in your cutest matching pink outfit.

You could do whatever you wanted...Is what you whispered to yourself before grabbing your purse and making a beeline towards to door before you changed your mind again. You pulled into the parking lot, glad your decided to wait a while to see this movie instead of going on opening night, noting it was a much quieter night, easing some of your nerves.

You went over to the snack counter, browsing the wide selection of candy, grabbing both sour candy and chocolate before joining the line to have your ticket scanned. You glanced down at your outfit once again, smoothing your a hand over your hair before straightening your shoulders.

You deserved this.

Bucky's POV

Bucky's heart swelled at the little clicks his daughters dress up heels made as they made their way up to the snack counter hand in hand; she was a ball of pink and frills with a tiny purse to finish the look off. She stumbled slightly, keeping up with his long strides, eyes wide taking in her surroundings along with the smell of fresh popcorn.

"What do you feel like getting jellybean" Bucky picked her up, letting her scan the rack of candy while he ordered a large popcorn and soda.

"This please daddy?" She pointed to a large swirly rainbow lollypop, waiting patiently when he set her back down making their way towards the ticket line. Her hand was still firmly holding onto his, a gasp slipping past her lips when her eyes landed on the best thing imaginable. Bucky looked up towards the direction his daughter was staring in, curious about the tiny gasp she let out and what had suddenly caught her attention.

The prettiest doll she'd ever seen. But in real life.

She couldn't take her eyes off her pretty pink dress or her matching heels. She was sure her favorite Barbie doll at home had the same shade of lipstick as hers. She clung onto Bucky's leg as they made their way over, tugging at his jeans to get his attention.

"Daddy! It's a Barbie doll" She whispered as he crouched down to her level, "She's so pretty" He could tell by her antsy squirming she wanted to talk to the real life Barbie boll, itching to take off at any moment. Bucky blinked, feeling his heart flutter, brows furrowing at why it was doing that, stop that.

But Bella was right.

She was pretty.

As soon as he saw who his daughter was pointing to, his own mind momentarily stopped working, only noticing her take off when he saw a blur of pink dash away, making a bee line towards the young woman.

Shit.

Your POV

"Hi" A small voice chirped behind you, leaving you confused when you didn't see anyone near by. Until you looked down. You smiled seeing the little girl behind you dressed in all pink, the tiara on her head slightly crooked, a lollypop sticking out of her purse. "You look so pretty"

"Thank you sweetheart" You cooed, gasping when a handsome stranger, clearly her father, grabbed her into his arms, shaking his head. He had a sparkly gold tiara on his head matching hers, flecks of pink glitter dusting his cheeks, some sprinkled onto his fluffy chestnut locks. You couldn't help the smile that spread onto your face when your eyes landed on the many magnets that were stuck onto his arm ranging from pink hearts to rainbows and the Barbie logo.

"Bella" He scooped her up, blowing a raspberry onto her cheek making her giggle, "You can't run off like that babygirl"

"Sorry daddy, wanted to see Barbie" She gave him her best pout, making you laugh, your own cheeks heating up when he looked over at you with a shy smile, matching hers.

Fuck, he was beautiful.

A whole ass DILF.

You shook your head, figuring he probably had a wife or girlfriend, there was no way he was single.

Bucky's POV

"She's really exited" Bucky said apologetically while you both had your tickets scanned, walking towards the same theatre room, butterflies fluttering in his tummy again.

"It's okay, this little princess made my day" You tried to sound light hearted though you were nervous meeting his soft baby blue eyes.

"Can she sit with us?" Bella pipped up before anyone sat own, giving her dad another dose of puppy eyes and a pout before turning to you and giving you the same treatment.

"Oh-uh-" Bucky figured you would've come with friends (maybe even a boyfriend...hopefully not...), though he didn't see anyone around when you were in line earlier. Either way, he was sure you wouldn't want to spend your movie day with a single dad and his very cute, albeit excited little girl. "I don't know baby-

"Actually, it's just me, I-don't mind" you smiled at the way Bella's eyes lit up along with an excited squeak, wiggling out of Bucky's hold to slip her hand into yours, pulling you to the middle of the row.

"Thank you" Bucky gave you a grateful smile, a tiny greedy part of him happy to sit with the sweet stranger his daughter was enamored with.

****

You adored watching the movie with Bella, leaning down whenever she'd whisper something, her hand often holding onto your pinky through most of the movie. You both made your way out of the theatre once the end credits began to roll, feeling a pang of something again when you noticed your cars happened to be parked side by side.

What were the chances-

Stop.

He probably has a partner, you scolded yourself internally while Bella gave you a sleepy hug before Bucky settled her into her car seat and shutting the door softly.

"Hi again" Bucky smiled bashfully, hoping the pink on his cheeks wasn't too obvious as he leaned against his car door, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. Why would someone as pretty and kind hearted as you want to go on a date with someone who came with baggage.....but maybe...

"Hi again" You nearly stumbled over your words, your heart hammering while he fidgeted with his phone, chewing his lip before speaking.

"I wanted to say thank you again. For today. I-I hope this isn't too forward but-uh-to say thank you properly-maybe coffee? If you don't like coffee then something else-dinner? Maybe a date-unless you don't want it to be a date-"

"I'd love to" you cut off his nervous rambling while Bucky let out the breath he was holding, giving you his phone for you to add your number in. He waited for you to get into your car, waving as you pulled out before getting into his own car, surprised to find Bella now wide awake with a cheeky smile on her face.

"Will we see Barbie again?" Bella eyed Bucky curiously while Bucky's phone pinged with a text message from you.

Can't wait to see you, keep the tiara on x

Bucky grinned, reaching behind to playfully tickle her foot before smiling at his phone again.

"I think we will"

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hp-hcs · 3 months

Note

i see your theo and mattheo are bottoms post so i ask of you BOTTOM 👏🏻 YANDERE 👏🏻 FICS 👏🏻 i'd go feral if you dropped any plsplspls 😭‼️

• smut • hook up boyfriend — yandere! switch! theodore nott x male! switch! toxic! reader

look at this little bottom bitch he’s mine back off

so, my boyfriend proofreads most of my works on here, and i gave him my rough draft for this ask. he then said, and i quote, "jesus christ, [hp-hcs]. you write smut like a nun." and then he took my phone from me. so basically, this is a long winded way of saying that my boyfriend helped me write all the smexy stuff. tell me if I should let him keep helping me or if he's a god awful smut writer who should not be allowed within a hundred feet of my tumblr, mkay?

INCREDIBLY TOXIC READER JFC WHYD I MAKE YOU SUCH A MANIPULATIVE BASTARD IDK

WARNINGS: SMUT MDNI, amab reader, switch reader, implied unprotected sex w/ multiple sexual partners (you’re not magic irl. wrap it before you tap it.), lot of power dynamic changes—traditional top dom/bottom sub but also some top sub/bottom dom stuff as well, toxic shit in general, lot of manipulation, pretty mild yandere from theo, degradation, praise

i’m of the opinion that theo would be a bottom/dom just so that he could save face for posterity

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“What do you mean I can’t hook up with him?”

“Because you’re already hooking up with me!”

“So? We’re not exclusive, Theodore.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Friends with benefits. That’s it. I’m not beholden to give you my loyalty and undivided attention, dipshit.”

Theo growls and runs a hand through his hair while he paces around his dorm. You lay back on his bed, watching him with a bored expression.

“But he’s my best friend, Y/n!”

“Mhm. He’s also a damn good fuck.”

“I don’t need to know that!”

“Why not? You seem to enjoy fucking your friends, no?” You shrug, stretching out across his bed without a single care. “Maybe you ought to add Matty to your hook up rotation.”

“Matty?”

“Yeah? I’ve got nicknames for all my partners, Teddy-Bear.”

“All?!” Theo splutters. “Well- well, tell me this. Does he even satisfy you? Do you ever think of me when he’s fucking you?”

“He’s the bottom, actually.”

“Wh- huh?”

“He’s the bottom,” you repeat. “Why are you shocked? You’re well aware I’m a switch, Theo. And everyone knows that Mattheo is a Bottom-with-a-capital-B.”

A flame of white-hot jealousy heats up Theo’s skin. He grits his teeth in barely-restrained anger; it’s as if just saying the wrong thing right now would cause him to snap and go hunt down Riddle to put his head on a pike.

“I could be your Bottom-with-a-capital-B. You don’t need Riddle. You’re mine, and I’m yours. Got that?”

You snort. “No offense, Teddy, but I couldn’t see you bottoming in a million years. You’re my top hook up. I’ve got bottom hook ups so that you don’t have to do that.”

He stubbornly crosses his arms over his chest. “Well, maybe it’s high time you teach me how to bottom then. I don’t want you seeing other people. Especially if it’s just because they give you something I’m too chicken to.”

You blink. “Huh. That’s some weirdly endearing possessive dedication, love.”

“I aim to please,” he says dryly, those unnervingly dead eyes of his seeming like they could see inside your soul when he stares at you.

You consider the offer before a wicked grin slowly spreads across your face. “I bet you do, darling.”

~~~

"Sh-shit! Fuck! Y-Y/n, I-"

“You gonna cum, pretty boy? Hm? Already?” He whimpers and nods frantically, his fingers scrabbling for hold on your shoulders and leaving stinging nail-bitten marks across your back.

Your teasing relents a bit at the sight of his blissed-out expression. Theo’s mouth hangs open in ecstasy, his eyes shut tightly and his back arching up from the mattress.

You groan at the sight of him splayed out under you. You grip his cock, reveling in his whimpers, and quickly start jacking him off in time to your thrusts. “C’mon, baby. You can do it. Be a good boy for me.”

His entire body stiffens as he cums with a moan that would make even a Muggle porn star blush.

You groan and start to slow down, but before you can fully pull out, he locks his knees around your hips to keep you in place.

"D-don't you fucking dare. More.”

“More?” You tease gently, hesitant to continue despite his request. “What a fucking slut you are, Teddy-Bear. Insatiable.”

He growls at your hesitance, far too impatient for that kind of bullshit.

He grips your shoulders, his knees tightening around your hips again as he uses all of that hot boy quidditch strength to roll you both over.

You let out a tiny yelp of surprise as he flips you onto your back. He whimpers loudly and moans at the shift in position, having to tuck his face into your neck for a moment while he collects himself.

Your hand moves up to comb your fingers through his hair, but he knocks it away before you can.

He sits up, supporting his weight with his hands flat on your chest, and takes a shaky breath at the shift of positions. “Want you t’ cum too.”

Your hands find his hips and grip them firmly, your breath becoming uneven as he starts to grind back and forth.

You help him raise himself up then lower his body again, listening to his sweet moans. As he finds a steady rhythm, you watch as his thighs begin to tremble.

“Merlin- I’ll never complain about you getting tired while riding me ever again. This is a fucking workout.”

“You’ll be fine. You’re not on the quidditch team for nothing.”

That was apparently the wrong thing to say.

His face darkens.

Maybe he just doesn’t like me bringing up his teammates while we’re literally fucking, you consider. Maybe he-

“How good of a fuck is Riddle anyways, huh? Could he ever ride you like this?”

Ah.

Fuck.

Mattheo’s on the quidditch team as well.

Theo starts moving with passion, roughly slamming down on you. “I asked you a question.”

“G-god- Theo!” You gasp, caught off guard by the sudden influx of sensations.

“Answer me.”

You whine and scratch your short fingernails over his abs, marveling at the pink and red lines that bloom at the surface a half-second later. “C-could never be as good as you, love. Shit- you’re perfect.”

He shivers at the sensation and grins slyly. “Perfect, huh?”

“Perfect,” you repeat, cupping the back of his neck and pulling him in for a slow kiss.

He sighs against your lips, returning the kiss. The sweet moment is cut off by you suddenly jerking your hips up into him and cursing loudly.

“Fuck- you feel so fucking good, babe-”

He gasps and his fingers claw frantically at your shoulders for any kind of support. “Merlin- I’m gonna-”

You watch as Theo’s second orgasm hits him and he goes practically boneless, slumping over on top of you.

He’s spasming around you like mad, and you can’t help but moan loudly when you cum just seconds later.

You both lay there in silence for a moment, trying to catch your breaths. Theo slowly eases himself off of your dick and rolls over to lay beside you.

“What‘s the final verdict?” You grin cheekily after a moment. “You a pillow prince now or nah?”

“Mmm…nah. I think I can settle for the label of switch though.”

“Aha! Welcome to the dark side!”

“Yeah, yeah. Shush. Now, roll over, I’m on top this time.”

~~~

“I heard you’re going steady with someone now.”

“Mm…mhm,” Theo hums an affirmative around the cigarette in his mouth, one hand cupped around the flame of his lighter as he lit it.

“Who’s the lucky fella?”

“Your ex-fuckbuddy.”

“Which one?”

“Y/n.”

Mattheo’s brow furrows. “Y/n? Y/n and I have never slept together.”

Theo suddenly launches into a coughing fit as he chokes on his lungful of smoke. “What?”

“Now, don’t get me wrong. I’d hit that in a heartbeat if he offered. But, I’m also like ninety percent sure that you’d kill me if I did that, and I rather enjoy being not-murdered, believe it or not. He is incredibly hot though.”

Theo just stared, his mouth hanging open.

You never slept with Mattheo?

What?

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

• standalone!! •

i will not be writing a part two!!

#harry potter #hp #fuck jkr #hp x male reader #x male reader #x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott #theodore nott smut #theo nott x reader #yandere theodore nott #slytherin boys smut #hp smut #male reader #male reader smut #theodore nott x male reader

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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year

Note

Maybe Ghost Konig and any other cod characters you write for with an s/o who’s very insecure about their stretch marks? Thank you very much

MW2 w/ an S/O who is Insecure about their Stretch Marks

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, No Pronouns used for Reader except for 'You', Implications of Smut, Knife Play, Insecurity, Anxiety/Upset, Minor Implications/Spoilers about Ghost’s Past, Mention of a Strap-On, Brief Mention of Murder/Killing, Angst, Fluff, Possessiveness, Protectiveness, etc.

Ghost:

Has absolutely zero clue as to why you're insecure about your stretch marks.

Genuinely never even thought of them before now, even though he’s seen them many a time.

However, when you expressed concerns over the way you looked - the way you felt - because of these marks, he set about trying to make you feel better immediately.

He’s not the most emotionally mature person; having to grow up as quickly as he did at such an early age definitely stunted his emotional growth, making it difficult for him to feel and express emotions clearly.

But for you, he’ll try his best.

He starts nuzzling into your thighs and stomach more often outside of sex; just tender moments between the two of you, with him showcasing how much he loves you and your body.

He’d try words of affirmation, saying how he thought you looked “Positively spiffing” (he was using the term humorously but meant every word) in your outfit.

Whenever you cracked a smile, he’d feel triumph bloom like solid gold in his chest, casting him in a glow of pride.

Eventually, he’d showcase to you the parts of himself he would never show another soul.

One evening, Simon had his hoodie off, his back and chest fully exposed to you. And all the scars that seared across them. You tracked your finger along them, creeping from one gash to another. All the while, Simon rhymed them off to you: when, where and how he’d gotten them.

You traced one on his shoulder blade. The warm glow of the room belying the horrific means through which the scar was attained.

“Paris, terrorist attack, twenty-ten.”

“I never heard of an attack in Paris then,” you said, tone questioning.

Simon cast a lopsided smile over his shoulder at you. You caught it.

“That’s the point.”

He turned to face you fully, placing a hand on your waist, beginning to hike your shirt up. You placed your hands over his, shaking your head, a wide-eyed expression overtaking you.

“No, Simon,” you said quietly. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. His head tilted.

“Why not?” He said. “Have I done something to upset you?”

At that, your eyes snapped up and found his, dark and gleaming. You shook your head, vehement in your judgement.

“No, God no! Simon, it’s not you, it’s-”

“Don’t say it’s you - don’t you dare say it.”

The authority in his tone made you ache in places you didn’t want to think about right now. You shifted.

“But…it is me, Simon.” You felt your eyes and throat sting with tears. “It’s always me.”

“Love–” Simon’s movements were stutterish as he took your chin in his hand and inched your face up to meet his. You tried resisting, but he wasn’t going to let this rest. “Tell me what’s wrong. Please.”

There lay a desperation in his voice you’d never heard before, and neither had Simon. You sniffed, and, your eyes shimmering with tears, you looked up at him. Only sincerity painted his features, no trace of condemnation or judgement hanging upon a single point. You swallowed.

“It’s just that…I appreciate what you’re doing for me - believe me, I do ! - but…”

“...But…?”

“But your scars mean something; you got them through protecting people, fighting for them - caring for what matters most–” You choked on a sob, tears starting to roll down your cheeks. “And mine are just…” it burned your tongue to say it, “there.”

Simon went quiet for a moment.

“(Y/N)...” His voice was a rumble of thunder, the cleansing storm rising over the tainted hill. He took your hands in his, abandoning your shirt. He rubbed reassurances into your hands, tracing the veins, the valleys of muscle and the alleys of life which pumped through them. His eyes seemed to turn down at the ends, round, doe-like.

“Your marks are not ‘just there’.” He wiped a stream of tears indenting the heather face of your cheek, and his hand remained there, collecting those which followed. “They are evidence of how you’ve lived, how you’ve survived,”

His hand dropped to your chin, bringing your face up to his once more, shining his moonbeams upon you.

“They show how you’ve grown. How you’ve lived and enjoyed a life you made for yourself. Your marks succeed where mine have failed; yours scream life, while mine whisper death - a life loved, and lives taken.”

Your mouth fell open. You were aghast, unable to conjure anything in your vocabulary that was either expansive or emotive enough to convey all that you felt. Your chest broke out into warmth, the dawn of a new perspective shining upon you as Simon did now.

Before you could form a sentence - as blubbering and elementary as it would be - Simon pressed a kiss to the corner of your lips. It was warm, all-encompassing, musical and low in the ringing silence of your desolate ocean.

He parted, cautiously, lips peeling from yours as if you were attached there, and looked upon you. Your cheeks were beginning to sting with the salt of your tears, vaguely chemical against your skin. You clambered into Simon’s arms, wounded and healing, and encompassed as much of him in your arms as you could.

“Your scars are beautiful, Simon,” you whispered into his chest. “No matter what you think - no matter what you say - I’ll always find them so.” You nuzzled into his neck. “I’ll always find them you.”

You heard Simon sniff, felt his chest rise with the sudden influx of air - emotion. You didn’t look up. You allowed him emotional anonymity.

“And I’ll always love your marks, (Y/N),” his voice strained, whispering and wisping. “I’ll always love them on you–” he pressed a strong, permanent kiss to your head, “--I’ll always love you.”

The evening consumed you, whisking you from the mortal coil to that of the metaphysical, that which was hidden to all but you and Simon, where you joined once again, physical bodies bound in a tight embrace, slumbering, dreaming.

König:

You actually came to König, sliding into his lap as he read a book, unable to keep what was eating you alive a secret any longer.

“Maus?” he said, putting Pride and Prejudice down and turning his full attention to you. “Is something the matter?”

You kept your head down and nuzzled into his chest, hoping his shirt would soak the tears staining your cheeks.

König tried to crane his neck down to see your face, but you hid it further into the cotton of his jumper.

König sighed, then began rubbing your back with a large hand.

“Whatever it is, we can fix it,” he said softly, gently. “No matter what.”

Maye thirty minutes passed, maybe it was only five, and König remained quiet for the duration, occasionally squeezing you and pressing a kiss to your head.

“I hate them,” you muttered, voice muffled by König’s chest.

Immediately, his back was up, like a cat’s. If he had the ears, they’d have been pricked.

“What?” he said, voice hard and thin, like a spear. You jumped in his lap and he sank back down, patting your head, a silent apology for his outburst.

His voice sounded as if it were spread thin, trying to conceal something far bigger than itself.

“Who has upset you so, maus?” He was careful with his words, trying to keep the extent of his bubbling anger at bay.

Finally, you looked up into his large, soft gaze. His eyes widened.

Your face was red in places, a map of countries in a continent called Sorrow.

Your eyes glistened, and König’s breath caught in his throat.

Before he could ask what was wrong, you shuffled off his lap and stood before him. You lifted your top and held it in your limp hand.

König’s eyes moved across your body as if searching for an injury, and when he turned up nothing, he looked you in the eyes.

“Maus, my lovely– I don’t understand,” König said as he shifted to the edge of the sofa, ready to jump up at your command.

You sighed deeply. “Don’t you see?” you said, folding your arms across your chest. “Don’t you see them, König?”

“See what?” His tone was becoming gradually frantic.

You huffed. “My marks, König! My– ugly– disgusting–”

“Hey, hey–” he slid off the sofa and enveloped you in his arms, holding you close to him, “--they are not ugly! Just– listen to me, maus–

“How do you deal with them?” you said, quiet as your namesake. Exasperated. “Your scars, Köni…how do you live with them?” Your voice croaked with tears, and the lump in your throat grew, bobbed up and down. It burned, reminded you of why you were here to begin with.

König thought for a moment, going quiet, his arms still wrapped around you. His hand squeezed your shoulder, fingers pressing soft, repetitive circles into your skin, a cycle of comfort. His warmth - his scent of pine - filled your senses, held you as he did now.

“There was a time,” he said, finally, his voice a whisper, “not too long ago, when… they made me hate myself, hate what I’d become.” He took your chin between his fingers and inched your face to meet his. He smiled, eyes crinkling. “But then I met you, and you told me how pretty you thought they were; ‘like tattoos,’ you said.” The memory tickled your mind and you couldn’t help but smile at the image of you sat on König’s chest, trailing a light finger just below his scars, afraid to touch them - their history - for fear it would hurt your dear König. He urged you to feel them, to make himself entirely transparent to you.

“And that’s how I have grown to like - to love - them. Because your opinion means more to me than mine does.”

The stinging sensation in your eyes strengthened, and you couldn’t help but let a tear slip. Though, not of your own despair, but of your love for König, and his apparent adoration for you. König could tell your tears were not of sorrow, and he pressed a slow, light kiss to your lips.

“Unless you’re planning on leaving me for another man, I suggest you only listen to me from now on.” His smile made his cheeks round and full, his eyes turn into half moons.

“And what makes you sure I could leave you for someone else?” you said, speculatively, jokingly. Inquisitively. König gave an honest chuckle, taking your face between his hands and squishing your cheeks.

“With a body like that, you could have any man you wanted.” His tone was light yet held a hidden weight, a seriousness, perhaps an insecurity, he didn’t want to address. “I’m just glad you chose me.”

He punctuated his claim with another kiss, deeper, hotter this time.

Soap:

You were turned over in bed beside Soap, who, despite your best efforts to conceal yourself, heard your soft chokes of tears.

His initial, instinctive reaction had been to envelop you in his kisses, slip his arms around your waist and pull you flush against him, to implore you to tell him what had made you so upset.

But, as he lay on his side of the bed, listening to your silken sobs into your pillow, he felt his chest break out into weighted feeling of dread, tree roots digging through the skin and into his very being, tinging his blood with a most negative sensation of blackened lightning.

Empathy, one might call it. He was feeling what you felt.

He couldn’t take it, your tears, your despair, and so he turned, gently, onto his other side and faced your back.

He placed a hand on your shoulder, and you flinched.

“Oh!” you said, patting your face with your sleeve. “Sorry, Johnny– I didn’t mean to wake you,”

Your voice was deceivingly light, airy - a front to throw Soap off your scent.

Soap didn’t bother with the formalities. His only priority now was you.

“What’s wrong, darlin’?” he said. He pulled your shoulder back, willing you to at least look at him.

You didn’t move.

You refused to.

“Nothing, love,” you said, hushed beneath the tension in the room.

You turned, offering only a peak of your facial silhouette, sacrificing it to the sliver of moonlight peeking through the blinds.

It was wet, despite your best efforts to conceal any evidence of your upset.

Soap restrained a sigh and watched you try to burrow your way back into your pillow before he started asking any more questions. Without warning, he forced you to look at him, pulling you so you lay on your back. He sank down on top of you, knees bolted to your sides - one of which sat dangerously close to the edge of the bed, threatening to slip off at any moment.

His gaze was direct and impenetrable as he searched your eyes, hands pinning your wrists beside your head. His strength was unrelenting, unmoving. He wasn’t going to let you off easy on this.

“Now, then,” he said, voice low and dyed an erotic tone of resolution with his accent. “Are ye gonna tell me what’s upset you, or am I gonna have to force it out of ye?”

You knew he was joking, and you shared the knowledge that this was his way of trying to make you feel secure - that you could trust him. But of course, you already knew that.

You gaze drifted down to where yours and Soap’s thighs met, and the weight that had been pressing on you for weeks jumped down onto your chest again, urging a fresh set of tears to emerge. You looked away, off to the side, hoping you could hide the dried streaks your tears had left behind.

“Hey, Sweetie, look at me– look at me.” Soap’s voice grew stern, and, when you refused to cooperate, he took your chin between his fingers and made you look at him, grip decidedly firm yet gentle.

“Angel, baby–” his eyes pleaded with you for an answer. “What’s wrong?”

You couldn’t hold it anymore and burst into tears, trying to keep your sobs quiet. Soap remained atop you, caressing the side of your face. Your tears were thick, almost viscous with all that had caused them, as if they, too, bore the weight of what plagued you.

“My marks,” you said, your voice merely a sound rather than a sentence. Soap’s head tilted as he looked down at you.

“What was that?” he said, unsure as to whether he’d heard you correctly. You sniffed, fortified your voice.

“My marks,” you repeated, clearer now.

Soap looked at you as if you were speaking another language, and you mistook his silence for perhaps the oncomings of a laugh. Or worse yet, agreement.

Soap scoffed alright, but he didn’t laugh. Instead he rearranged so he sat further down your body. He lifted your shirt, which you tried to pull down. He growled and practically tore it off you. And you let him. He stared down at your abdomen, your thighs, and sighed deeply.

“Why on earth are you worried about your stretch marks?” he said, absolute and firm, as if it were the most obvious question in the world. You almost wanted to shrug and apologise for wasting his time, but you remained quiet.

“These marks,” he began, lowering his face to your stomach, “are part of you. You know what that means?” His gaze flickered from your abdomen to your face. When you shook your head, Soap gave a huff of a laugh, his breath hot and circling against your skin.

“It means that they’re not the burden you think they are; they’re not unsightly, or ugly, or anything else you can think to call them. They’re beautiful because they are you.”

Your tears were still welling, and Soap pressed a soft kiss to your stomach. Then another. Then another. He linked a chain of kisses, inching further down your body, reaching the band of your underwear. He looked up at you beneath heavy lids. He dipped his tongue beneath the band, making you jolt. He laughed.

“I mustn’t have been doing a good job of showing you how beautiful you are,” he said, lowly. His hands slid to your hips, hooking his fingers over the edge of your underwear and tugging them down.

“It’s time I changed that.”

Price:

He’d picked up on your off mood every day this week, but he’d wanted you to come to him when you were ready, rather than him chase you up about something you didn’t necessarily want to talk about.

You never cracked, though. Not even once.

You’d kept your thoughts to yourself, yet your body betrayed you.

Whenever Price had initiated something in the bedroom, you’d shied away, putting your hands against his chest and giving a weak, watery smile.

“Maybe another night?” you’d say, and Price respected your wishes.

But, he was growing agitated.

It wasn’t his sexual frustration which urged him to act, but his frustration at himself for not being able to tell what was troubling you.

He was your protector; it was his duty, his pleasure to look out for you in any way you needed him.

And he felt like he was failing.

Eventually, he asked you outright what had gotten you so upset, and when you reluctantly told him it was your stretch marks, Price sat there. Flabbergasted.

“That’s it?” He couldn’t help himself saying. But when he saw how much the topic meant to you after you gave him a stormy look, he changed his tune.

Consoled you well into the night, holding you, burying kisses into your skin, drawing lines against your marks, saying how he found them beautiful because they were “Part of you.”

Never lets you go a day without feeling appreciated - more so than he did prior to this discovery.

“You know, Darling,” Price began, laying in bed with you in his arms, “I can’t remember what my life was like before you came.”

You looked up at him. He nuzzled the tip of his nose against your hair.

“And I can’t imagine what it would be like without you in it.” The smile in his voice was more than a mere tone, but a feeling, deep and sincere, the epitome of love itself.

Your face broke out into a grin, beams shining through the clouded sky. “Oh?” you said, bringing your thigh over his middle. You slid on top of him, knees either side of his waist. You planted your hands on his chest, rubbing slowly. His chest rumbled, the beginnings of a purr. His eyes gleamed, his lips curled up beneath his moustache, pinched as raised theatre curtains

“How about I show you how much you mean to me?” Your request was more foreshadowing than anything else, but, in a plot twist, John gripped you by your thighs and rolled so that he was now on top of you, your wrists pinned beside your head.

He brought his face down beside your head. “Last I checked, that was my job,” he rasped, his beard scratching the side of your face. He slid a hand down to the hem of your night shirt, raising it over your stomach. “And I don’t plan on retiring.”

Alejandro:

Is on the offensive immediately.

Thinks somebody’s said something to you that made you upset.

“Who was it, mi amor? Who do I have to kill?”

It would take all your strength to keep him from storming out the house and popping a cap in the first person he suspected as being the perpetrator.

You’d have to explain to him that nobody’s said anything to hurt your feelings, and that your insecurity about your stretch marks has been with you since you were young.

“It’s just the way I am, Love,” you’d say, casting a diluted smile Alejandro’s way. “‘Ts just the way things are.”

This shocks Alejandro; sends him into a catatonic state, even.

Not once had he even considered your stretch marks a point of insecurity: not for you, or him.

In fact, he thought they were cool, and whenever he’d show you his scars, he’d smile. “Now we’re matching!” He’d say.

After you’d expressed your insecurities about your marks, he’d never let you go a day where he’d remind you you’re beautiful (though, that isn’t saying much; there isn’t a day that goes by where he doesn’t make you feel worthy and loved. He just tries even harder).

Man’s a body worshiper if ever I saw one (and I have seen many).

When you’re laying down together and he has his head on your thighs, he’ll randomly turn around and start kissing your marks.

Only does this in private, and with good reason.

Definitely the type to use tongue, even if it’s on the surface of your skin.

Will not let you leave until he’s convinced you’re feeling better about yourself.

Tells you that his mission in life is to “Make you realise how beautiful you are in everyone else’s eyes, even if you don’t see it yourself.”

You can definitely use the insecurity card to request - ahem - ‘snuggle time’ with Alejandro.

If you say to him in your whiny voice: “Baaabe, I’m not feeling too good about myself today,” he’ll be on you like a rash.

You may think you’ve got one over on him, but don’t be fooled.

He knows what you’re doing, but he’s not going to stop you.

After all, why would he ever pass up the opportunity to show the person he loves most in all the world how beautiful they are?

“There will never be a day where I will not worship you, mi corazón,” he panted, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your thighs. “You are my god - my religion.”

His eyes gleamed as he looked up at you from between your legs. “My life.”

You screwed your eyes shut and whined when he licked a stripe against your underwear, catching you where you needed him most.

“Alejandro,” you whispered, his name a prayer on your lips. “Please,”

“Say it.” He slid a hand over your stomach, feeling your skin, your marks, beneath his warmth. “Say what you want me to do and I’ll give it to you.” There was no hint of a lie in his words, only the inescapable truth of his undying love for you and everything your body had to offer.

Between glistening eyes and an open mouth, you let him in. “You.”

Alejandro left many bruises and bites on you that night, all borne out of love. And, afterwards, as he looked upon your sleeping form, all he could think was of how ethereal you looked, and how lucky he was to have managed to find someone like you.

Valeria:

She simply won’t hear of it.

She’s quite an aggressive woman, and she expresses her love and adoration likewise.

Therefore, when you end up confiding in her that there is even a single part of yourself you’re insecure about, she flips her lid.

Not at you, of course. At who or whatever has made you feel this way.

She throws her hands up and curses in Spanish, saying how only she’s “allowed to make you feel that way.”

And she means it.

She won’t let you feel bad unless she wants you to (and even then it’s because you’ve whined and moaned for it).

Trust that she’s watching you like a hawk 24/7 after that.

If she finds you looking at your marks with anything less than adoration, she’ll drag you into the bedroom and force you to say you do, otherwise she’s not relenting with that ten inch strap-on.

She’s sensitive, however.

When she can tell that a quick therapy session isn’t going to change your mind, she’ll just sit with you and listen, make you a drink and hold you when you cry.

She’ll come up with the idea to name them - so they “feel like friends rather than enemies,”

Places warm, soft kisses along your marks, christening them with her love when you’ve decided on a name.

If you name one after her, she’ll be honoured.

“Now I’ll be with you forever,” she’ll say, wrapping her arms around your waist. “On you forever, I should say.”

Valeria dragged you into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. One of her men guarded the other side, frightening off other club-goers.

Valeria’s eyes were heavy, dark and all-consuming with a feral rage that only occurred under rare circumstances, those being her jealousy. She gave you little time to protest as she hiked you up onto the counter, the tap digging into your back.

“I’ll murder him,” she said, voice rasping with drink and the need to mark you - to take you. “I’ll kill them all - all those bastards that looked at you.”

“Valeria, please,” you gasped when she cut the lining of your jeans open, making the button pop and recede into a dark, grimy corner of the tiled room. Valeria brought the knife to your throat, her voice snarling and serious as death.

“I am the only one who can look at you.” The tip of her knife began its slow descent to the collar of your shirt, which she separated from your body with a long, ripping tear. Now, chest exposed, you yelped. Valeria forced your legs apart and crouched between them. Her knife sat at the waistband of your underwear.

“You’re mine,” she promised. “And if I need to mark you myself–” she trailed the tip of her weapon along the marks on your hips, “–then so be it.”

Gaz:

Will look at you like you’ve just asked him to recite Pi.

What???

What do you mean you don’t think your stretch marks look good?

Gaz thinks they look perfect!

He can’t imagine you without them; he’s genuinely emotionally attached to them.

You should’ve guessed as much when you felt him tracing them as you lay in bed.

Fr though, Gaz understands why you feel insecure, but he doesn’t understand why, if that makes sense.

He knows certain things get to you, thus making it plausible that you would become upset with something you found on your person, but he doesn’t understand why you’re insecure.

He can feel himself getting angry whenever he hears you talking - or even thinking - bad about yourself.

He’s not mad at you! Not at all.

He’s simply aggravated by the fact that something or someone has made it so you can’t see yourself the way he sees you.

To cheer you up, he’ll start relaying extremely specific compliments to you.

“I’d love you if you were a two foot tall worm with a receding hairline.”

“Uuuh…thank you?”

Though, if he found those didn’t work or, God forbid, made you feel worse-

“So you’re saying that you only find my personality attractive and not my body.”

– He’ll find another way of lifting your spirits.

“I would commit arson if you ever tried to get rid of your stretch marks.”

“...Why?”

“Because I love them and they’re my friends 🥺.”

Btw he’s fr about that - he sees your stretch marks as individual, sentient beings.

And he begins to tell you the backstories he’s made up for them.

And you can’t help but get attached to them, too.

“Hold on, why does Antonio get to be seen today and not Felicity?” you asked, holding the sleeveless vest to your torso. Gaz returned, throwing a pile of yet more sleeveless shirts, vests and other variants onto the bed.

“Because I haven’t seen Antonio all week and I’m starting to think you’re playing favourites.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Poor guy’s probably suffocating under all those jumpers you wear!”

“Oh?” You raised and eyebrow, looking at Gaz in the mirror. “And what are you going to do about it?”

Gaz threw you a devilish smile, the corners of his lips pointing up like horns, sharp and curled. He came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, holding the vest against you.

“Put the vest on and you won’t have to find out.” He pressed a constellation of kisses to your shoulder, up the connecting junction of your neck and shoulder, until he reached your jaw. “Unless you want to.”

Graves:

When you initially told him, he wasn’t sure how to respond.

Genuinely thought money would make all your problems go away.

He threw a wad of rolled-up George Washingtons at you and told you to “Buy something nice - do yourself up pretty.”

Obviously, not the best thing to say to somebody who’s insecure.

And when you didn’t talk to him for days afterwards, he realised where he’d gone wrong.

You wanted reassurance, not a solution.

See, he’s so used to using money to make his problems disappear that he thought it’d be a quick fix for you, too.

Pokes his head round the bedroom door like heeeyyy~ before taking a seat beside you on the bed.

“Look, I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t realise you just wanted to talk rather than have me fix the problem.”

His wording’s still very off, but he’s working on it with gentle guidance from you.

He genuinely never realised your stretch marks were an insecurity for you, though, hencewhy he’s not so good at the whole ‘reassurance’ thing.

He learns quickly, though.

It starts off with small gestures; putting a hand over your marks, looking at them fondly, telling you how gorgeous you were every single day.

And, eventually, when you’re being more…intimate, he’ll refuse to let you cover yourself up (unless you really want to, ofc).

Trying to hide your marks? Not for long - Phillip’s got a PHD in cloth tearing, and you’re his first job.

“I don’t remember telling you you could do that.”

Aggressive love. Full-on laving his tongue over your marks.

“Just markin’ what’s mine, Angel.”

Doesn’t give you even a second to feel insecure anymore.

Encourages you to wear clothing that reveals your marks if he thinks it’ll make you feel better.

Again, won’t force you to; if you don’t like revealing clothing overall, he’ll make sure to find other ways of empowering you.

Gets very territorial whenever he catches someone staring at you because he firmly believes that, 100% of the time, it’s because they’re checking you out.

Will glower at them with his eyes until they look away, cowering.

And all the while he’s looking at you, thinking God damn, I can’t believe I managed to pull you <3

“Love, why did you stare at that man in the bar earlier?” You asked, not looking up from your book. In the dim light of the bedroom, you saw Phillip’s head turn, looking at you. In your periphery, you saw his cheeks lift. He crept closer.

“Ain’t it natural for a man to want to protect what’s his?” His voice carried with it a weight you recognised as rhetorical. You put your book down on the bedside table and resisted a knowing smile.

“I don’t know,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “Is it?”

A sly smile crossed Graves’ face, and, in an instant, he was on top of you, his weight definite and promising of something. He wrangled your arms, pinning them above your head. And you only smiled up at him as he beamed down at you.

“Oh, I think you know it is.” His eyes gave no way to humour or jest, possessing within their oyster shell colour a pearl of the rarest, most valuable material: love.

Graves leaned down, and, biting the shell of your ear, pressing a kiss beneath it, whispered.

“And you know how much I hate sharin’.”

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

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queenofallimagines · 4 months

Text

Blue lock NSFW HCs

A/n: so since I’ve let this anime take over my life completely I feel I’m overqualified to give better hcs and since I don’t have a specific scenario in this is general headcanons💕 (pls request blue lock I have brainworms)

Blue lock:

- off the bat isagi telling us he has a thigh fetish is so real it me he keeps his hands on your thigh at all times

- Really one hand on the steering wheel the other just barely in your pants fingering you

- They all kinda got that sauce in ‘em yk?

- Isagi can say “pretty thing” or “sweetness” in that low ass voice and it will have you on your knees

- NAGI CALLING YOU PRETTY

- Idk WHERE that shit came form but every fic he just calls you pretty and that’s def canon that man is 6”3 so hear me out

- This big ass man who’s usually lazy and barely paying attention putting in that work on you, keeping you pressed into the bed with his full body weight

- Mumbling in your ear in his monotone voice that’s just one octave lover

- “Cmon pretty, gunna come f’me?” he’s looking at you with his egoist eyes

- Will have you in between him and Reo

- Sorry but that’s just as canon as bachira and isagi it’s gunna happen at LEAST once

- Seishiro can run with the best of them w that ego too like he says he’s a pacifist but he’s squared up first on someone like 4 times😭

- He Probably offhandedly mentions something about you in convo with Reo and you’re done for

- They’re like gaming or something and you walk into the room

- “I’ll prove it- hey come here for a sec” and now all of a sudden you’re seated in between his delicious thighs being fingered open by nagi in front of Reo like he’s giving a tutorial😭

- I see y’all’s saying Reo would do that for inexperienced nagi but I raise you that Reo only has casual flings and has been intimate with nagi so he’s not used to their duo being a trio

- Nagi spreading your legs keeping them wide open for Reo to see everything while he leans over your shoulder and makes sure he’s focused on what he’s doing

- Something something good with his givers because gamer

- He’s working you open with his huge fingers almost unbothered by the fact that your squirming and grabbing at his arm

- Reo is a little flustered but he’s def paying attention

- They’re acting like they’re talking about the weather like you not gushing all over his fingers

- Makes you cum like three times this way before he says “Reo is pretty good with his tongue, can he have a taste too?”

- Nagi and his crazy stamina will not let you rest!

- RIN! My beloved baby boy!

- He’s a FREAK like freaky NASTY and mean about it too!

- Little slow on the uptake but once you really start learning about each other he’s working out all his frustrations on you

- Not very emotive but he’s blunt so he will make his feelings perfectly clear

- Brat tamer by default bc you push his buttons

- “Keep that same energy when I get you alone”

- Fucks you in the locker rooms

- Likes you wearing his jersey while he does it

- Had hella pictures and videos of it too that you don’t remember him taking😭

- Keep him company on his long away games💕

- Everyone knows he’s having good sex bc he has scratch marks all over his back and dares someone to say shit about them

- Since like every single one of his dispositions is bc of Sae you have to be patient with him

- The itoshi issue is that they will have conflicts in their head, decide what YOU are gunna say and make choices silently based off that

- Like bitch if you don’t TALK TO ME??

- Rin will not start the convo and avoid you in a fight bc in his mind he fucked up and you never want to see him again but like did I say that??

- You gotta go to him and be like say what the fuck you’re thinking :/

- Both the itoshi brothers are rough

- Rin will use his insane stamina to fuck you right to sleep like he’s trying to watch a game stop playing w him

- Probably end up fucking you with or in-front of isagi

- One thing about Rin Itoshi is that he has something to prove always

- Sae and shidou you already know lmao

- My favs?? Come the fuck ON they have nasty ass sex daily

- Sae count your fucking days bc imma best your ass 😐

- However,,, the dynamic between him and Ryusei is too tasty to ignore

- Sae and his butt fetish will usually do anal if you’re taking both of them at once

- His dick is really pretty you and shidou have full length discussions about it and he is TIRED

- Sae likes to think he has you two on a leash and for the most part he kinda does

- But you might as well be on demon time too bc once you and Ryusei tag them

- Him??

- The great cold and calculated Sae Itoshi the gem of Japan will be a whiny little Bitch

- Likes to piss you off so you’ll be rough with him and Shidou right there with you

- You’re both fed up with his shit so you decide to punish him

- You edging him while Ryu fucks him mercilessly

- Imagine you’re riding him reverse cowgirl and shidou is fucking him so hard and deep he can’t breathe

- You two doing that whole outwardly ignoring him kissing while he wants you to pay attention to him clawing at your lower back and hips

- Moaning out “sorry” and babbling nonsense

- Cums a lot and it’s thick in consistency

- Whimpers when you and shidou taste him on each other and he can’t kiss either of you

- Tears steaming down his face while he struggles to keep his eyes from rolling back and can barely even say what he wants because he’s moaning so much

- Aftercare is so cute bc you both clean him up and give him as many kisses as he wants

- That really fixes his attitude LMAO

- Isagi can get pretty try mean too you trigger that ego and he’s just as ruthless as he is in the field

- “You think I’m gunna let you cum after you spent all day on my nerves? Be serious”

- He’s big on eye contact

- Will sit back in a chair and stare at you as he makes you ride him with no help

- “Go on, you wanted it, ain’t you?”

- Spanks you hard

- Chigiri hyoma is HUNG

- like oh my god pretty face huge dick

- People paint him as like corset when he’s like really mild mannered and mean? Lmao his egoist profile even says he’s mean

- He’s blunt and says exactly what he means

- If “okay?? AND??” Was a person😭

- Will get choked up if you kiss the scar on his knee when you go down on him

- “Cmon you can take more than that can’t you?”

- He can go fast but likes going slow and deep

- Really savor the moment

- Wants to feel every second of you going up and down his dick

- Meanie!!

- “You’re creaming around me already and I’ve barely made it all the way in”

- Preps you really good before hand too that’s like mandatory even if you’re ready he’s going to have you cum on his tongue or fingers first

- Gets pussy drunk a lot and ends up fucking himself into overstimulation

- Liked his hair pulled on

- Barou? Whew the king definitely deserves that title!

- A big fan of slow and deep like Chigiri

- Will make you face him as he fucks up into you

- “Quit wining and take it, you’re the one who kept begging for me to fuck you all day”

- Will clean the sheets fully after sex like lmao he’s changing the whole bed

- Let’s see hiori too! People like to say the self proclaimed “ultra sadist” as like just a bottom all the time

- He’s more mean and doesn’t care about it

- “Ow! That kinda hurt!”

- “Hm? Good”

- Big fan of face fucking

- Shidou alone is very baby

- I’m his defense lawyer yall like he’s an aquifer taste so you can not like him

- But that’s your fault and a skill issue💅🏿✨

- He’s the unhinged very soon of isagi very emotionally intelligent and can read a room

- He simply does not CARE about others

- Very ‘if people are going to isolate me then I’ll push them away’ vibes

- Like he rly has a connection w the whole cast minus rin and kunigami

- If he hadn’t took a kick at isagi him and bachira would be besties!🥺

- They understand the same type of loneliness

- Back to the horny

- He will split you open on his cock any time of the day

- He’s very god at anatomy and chemistry like look at how tf he talks

- HES LITERALLY A STRAIGHT A STUDENT!

- Has a breeding kink in canon

- “If you keep my cum inside you for the whole game I’ll eat it out of you when we win”

- Cock bastard also

- Rin def walked in on you two once and it haunts him

- Seeing your face utterly fucked out not caring that you’re both locking eyes while shidou who’s blissfully unaware keeps bullying his fat cock into you against the lockers🤭

- He can’t look you in the face for like a month lol

- Chigiri like pegging and kunigami can suck dick rly well

- Don’t ask me how ik I just KNOW Mr. Bisexual representation has had a relationship with a guy who he was intimate with

- Bachira likes to paint your face white

- Loved seeing you with his cum on your face

- Won’t tell you he’s close when you suck him off on purpose sometimes

- “Oops, my bad! You do look pretty like this tho☺️” be so the fuck fr

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m3guchi · 1 year

Text

Stay with me, don't want you to leave ‹𝟹 . . . 🐰

Context . . . Flustered bfs who gets shy and affectionate while you give them kiss marks on their faces and neck (guys pls this is actually a tiktok trend)

Notice . . . x fem!reader . . 🍮 !

W/ . . . Rin , Bachira , Nagi , Reo . . 🍮 !

RIN 🐰 . . !

As usual, Rin goes home after practice, gets graced upon your touch, and tells you how he had a long day and how much he just wants to be with you.

"Baby? 'M home, where are you?" To Rins' surprise, you weren't in the living room where you'd usually be lying on the coach patiently waiting for his arrival. "Y/n? Sweetheart, you there?" But to Rins' dismay, you were too busy eyeing the tiktok video where girlfriends pepper their boyfriends faces with kisses with lipstick marks on them too in your shared bedroom with him.

"There you are, been looking for you baby, you weren't in the living room." Rin sighs as he approaches you to lie down with you and have you snuggled in his arms. "Well hello there Rinnie, how was practice, my love?" Rins heart melts when you call him that endearment, to be your love. "Was fine baby, how was your day?" You sigh dramatically. "Same as always, boring. If only you were here.." you put on a pout, Rin feels a slight pain tugging his heart and a bit guilty, he knows he hasn't been spending much time with you considering his career.

After being snuggled with Rin, you suddenly remember the video you were watching, and you thought, 'Rin and I should do it!', you immediately got up, leaving Rin confused with a slight pout, you grabbed the lipstick that Rin loved, he always loved the color on you. "Huh? Are you going somewhere?" He asks confused by your actions. "No, silly! Just wanna try something with you" you giggle. Rins' curiosity was growing but he patiently waited for you.

"There! C'mere" rin obliges, he observes your lips, the color you put on, oh how he loved the color on you. "Mwa mwa mwa mwa" you cup his cheeks and slowly kiss his cheeks, nose, somewhere close his lips, his jawline, leaving Rin flustered, he was turning red at this point! Rin couldn't say a word, he can't complain, he doesn't want you to stop, but his brain just can't function right now. Let's say once you were done giving him kisses, you had to deal with an affectionate Rin. Not that you didn't love it tho!

BACHIRA 🐰 . . !

Here you were with boyfriend on his rare day offs, lazing around and enjoying each others' presence. Meguru was pacing around in the bedroom, thinking of what to do.

"Sweetcakes this is soooo boringgg, I hate this!" There was really something about this man and him calling you these... err, should we call them weird but cute endearments..? "Meguru, why don't we just take a nap? You always do take a nap when you're bored" you try persuading your stubborn boyfriend in to taking a nap with you, "Don't wanna! I wanna spend time with you in a different wayyyy, this is not fair!"

You sigh, there was really nothing you could think of, and Meguru is.. kinda throwing a small fit right now. Meguru finally joins you in bed, sighing dramatically. "Just don't know what to dooo" he feigns a sob as you cradle him like a big cat who's acting like a big baby. While you play with his hair to help him relax, he goes thru his phone, hoping to find at least something interesting (which he doubts he would find something interesting, it's at least worth a shot)

The group chat for the blue lock team was going crazy with Karasu spamming the chat.

Karasu : YOU FUCKERS I CANT TAKE THIS TIKTOK SHIT ANYMORE. ITS PRACTICALLY FILLED WITH COUPLES KISSING EACHOTHER.

Otoya : Hoe it isn't our fault ur ass is single

Rin : Stop spamming the chat, the chat is only for soccer purposes.

Karasu : killjoy mf

Rin : ???

Bachira practically snickers at their conversation, scrolling thru the chats. But, oh wait, Karasu sent a video of those couples doing the new trend. Wouldn't hurt to watch it, right?

As soon as Bachira saw the video, his eyes widened. 'So, like, what if me and...Y/N AND I DO THIS ????' he jumps out of the bed, startling you and scaring you a bit. "Babe what are you doi.." "BABY, THE LOVE OF MY LIFE, GO GET ANY LIPSTICK THERE THAT YOU HAVE, WAIT NO I'LL GET IT FOR YOU." Bachira rushes to your small make up pouch, getting the coral pink lipstick you always use.

"Megu, what's this for?" You laugh at his excitement and curiously watch him. "THERE, apply it on your lips pretty please" he gives you those puppy dog eyes he always gives you when he's being affectionate, and since Bachira had been whining earlier, you decide to just go with what he wants today. "There, 'm done. What's with you and my lipstick, babe?" "NOTHING" he urges you to come sit on his lap and you happily oblige. For a moment, Bachira felt shy to ask you for kisses, not like the usual where he'd shamelessly ask you for it.

Bachiras' phone was open, and you see the video playing and you finally realized what he wants. "Aww Meguru, baby. You could've just asked for it" you laugh at him quietly while he turns slight red, you grab his cheeks kissing it softly, and you give him a quick eskimo kiss while you enjoy making him flustered by kissing his face. Bachira finally eased up and gets a bit tickled, his laughs are so cute too. His hands were on your waist, holding you still. Bachira hopes he can get more day offs like this.

NAGI 🐰 . . !

As much as he's a lazy snow ball, I do think Nagi actually put in a lot of effort to at least show you how much he loves you. He does laze around from time to time tho.

You were just scrolling thru tiktoks and talking with your friends, while your boyfriend is playing games in his set up. You two were doing your own thing, as you believe that giving each other separate time for alone time would be a good thing. (You guys are in a shared bed room tho)

Nagi seems focused in the new game he's playing with Reo, they're in call in Discord, fortunately when they play, they rarely get loud. But hours have passed and you miss Nagi already, you hate to be clingy and annoy him, but you just wanna cuddle with him already.

Fortunately for you, you gather enough courage to cling onto him after watching a cute video of a couple. You come closer to Nagi, he's too focused in game so you try tugging on his hoodie. "Sei, baby?" Nagi looks at you softly, he talks so softly when he talks to you too. "Yeah? You need anything, pretty?" You blush at his endearment for you, (contrary to your belief that you don't get flustered when he calls you that, you always do get flustered.) "Mmm, need youu, sei" you put on a pout, nagi sighs playfully, grabbing your waist and leading you to his lap, "there we go, you can sit on my lap, just one more game. 'Kay?" You nod at him softly while you put your arms around his neck, your head resting on his chest, patiently waiting for him to finish.

You got a bit impatient, and started peppering his cheeks with kisses, Nagi notices your actions, he's rushing to finish the game, he wants to spend time with you too, but when he sees that the game isn't going to finish any time soon, he tells Reo that he needs to go, leaving Reo whining and complying. "'M done pretty girl, you need something?" Nagi makes sure your needs are attended to as much as he can do it for you. "Just you, sei. Missed you s'much" you continue to place kisses on his soft cheeks and nose. (Being this affectionate with Nagi will lead you to a clingy Nagi cuddling you 24/7)

REO 🐰 . . !

It is true that Reo loves you more than anything, he worships you, and lavishes you. He tries his best to do everything just for you, canceling meetings or practices, to make you happy no matter how small your matter is just for him to be with you, you're the first thing he thinks about when he wakes up, and the last thing he thinks about before going to sleep.

Reo and Nagi planned a meet up to bond for a bit, then he'd surprise you for a visit after they hang out. But it just seems like Reo and you haven't been spending much time for the past days, so you grew impatient for his affection, but you understand that he also has a life outside, so you being impatient does go away easily. Reo gets excited to meet you, he bought you your favorite snacks, he's taking you out for dinner, he bought you flowers and a new cute dress he knows you'd be absolutely cute in, and lastly, he bough you a new Dior lipstick you've been eyeing.

Reo bids Nagi a goodbye before driving to your place, you were just home, making yourself comfortable in Reos' favorite hoodie that you stole from him (he found it cute so he gave you it, he occasionally spreads his scent on the hoodie when you aren't wearing it, so maybe it'd make up for his absence).

Your door bell rings and you wonder who is it, you get up and see who is it through the balcony, and it's, IT'S REO? You hurriedly came down stairs to open the door. "REO?" Your boyfriend simply smiles softly at your expression, "Bunny! Missed me? Yeah, 'course you missed your boyfriend so much." You roll your eyes at him but smile slightly. "Where's my hug, bunny?" He playfully teases you. "Oh, yeah. Before that, got you a little something." And when Reo says a little something, you already know it isn't something little, so you deadpan at him. "Reooo, what did i tell you about-" "I know, i know, just wanted to make up for my princess. And, you're my everything, y'know that, right?" You can't help but succumb to the words he says to you, they're always making you flustered. You receive the flowers and alot more.

"Get dolled up, bunny. Gonna take you out for dinner. Sounds good, yeah?" You were excited to finally spend time with him, it's been days after all. "Want you to wear this dress for me." And he bought you another dress, well you couldn't complain.

While eating dinner outside (reo actually rented the place for the night, so you two could be alone) he holds your hands, "look, I know you told me not to spend so much money on you, but.. I got you this lipstick you've been eyeing for quite a while now and.. "REO" "I KNOW, OK WAIT, i just wanna spoil you bunny, what's the harm in that? Y'know I love seeing my love being happy." You sigh, you can't really do anything about him spending his money on you. "Thank you, Reo. I love it" "hmmm, I wonder where's my kiss and I love you" you roll your eyes at him.

"Thank you for taking me out tonight, reo" "Always bunny" you enjoy his presence while he drives you back home. "Well, I guess see you tomorrow bunny?" Reo bids you a goodbye but you stop him. "Wait, I.. well" you tried on the lipstick he bought you earlier and he did ask for a kiss earlier, so you give him a soft kiss on the cheeks "GOODNIGHT REO, I LOVE YOU" you run away from him and rush through your door to get in, leaving Reo shocked and flustered while he touches his cheeks. You observe him in the window, and hear him mutter a "Nightnight bunny, love you too" while he puts on a boyish smile, heading back to his car.

He's in love with you, and he'll do anything for you, and you know it's true.

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nomazee · 1 year

Text

open up

sebastian (sdv) x reader

word count: 3.5k

content: silly love again, mutual pining, not actually unrequited love, some goofs and giggles and misunderstandings, the teeniest tiniest inkling of angst but it’s covered up with silliness, the word hussy is used which is the funniest word ever and i’m so glad i discovered it it’s so old-timey-small-town word

notes: this is a part three to my little mini series w sebastian! you can find part one here, and part two here!

oh hey guys this is probably completely indecipherable but i’ve been rewriting this over and over again this past week and decided that this is my most proudest version of this work and maybe there will be more but this... is IT (i’m lying and will be writing more companion pieces to this okay much love love all of u mwah)

<><><><><>

Hiding from your problems does not fix everything. In fact, it doesn’t fix anything.

It’s a lesson you should’ve figured out the first time you did it. You remember being back in grade school, forgetting to study for a test one year and faking a rash in the nurse’s office to get out of it. The rash in question was a collection of the healing, scabbed-over cat scratches on your forearm. You’d drawn over it harshly with dark red pen and marker to create some kind of rash-like illusion. In the end all you got was a disappointed look from the nurse, an ugly smear of red and burgundy on your arm, and a D-minus on your world history test.

So, yes. Hiding has dreadful consequences. And even just during your time in Stardew Valley, you should’ve known to keep this lesson close to your heart. This is the second time you’ve run away from Sebastian already, and the first time didn't last long anyways. Stupid, silly you.

In your defense, it wasn’t really Sebastian you were running away from. It was his mom. For three days following your stupid kissing shenanigans, Robin terrorized your dreams, and your daydreams, and the reflections of yourself that you saw in the tiny pond on your farm…

So, yes it’s safe to say that running away was not doing you any good. But what other choice did you have?

You’re an adult. You could totally scrape apart what’s left of your dignity and act like it—maybe take the walk up to the mountains and apologize to Robin and Sebastian, too. Tell them that it was wrong of you to be so promiscuous on their front porch (promiscuous, of course, equating to one single kiss on the lips that lasted no more than ten seconds), and that you’d never do it again and never even look Sebastian in the eyes, if that’s what they wanted.

While you’re at it, maybe you’d be able to ask Robin for the coop upgrade that you’ve needed for weeks now. All you have to do is… be an adult and face your problems. Your one massive roadblock of a problem.

It’s not even a problem, per se. But you’ve embarrassed yourself far too much in front of the people in this town and you’re a little tired of taking blow after devastating blow to your reputation. You’d rather wilt and rot here, on the soil of your farm, with your duck walking her webbed feet across your chest and leaving damp marks all over your shirt.

This is peace. This is where you could die, decomposing in your leftover humiliation from the week before. But of course—all good things come to an end, and the end comes to you in the form of a distinct lack of wheat seeds in your storage containers.

Dreadful. This is a sign from some higher power that it’s finally time for you to get your ass up and go into town. Face the world like an adult. Get your wheat seeds so that you and your animals don’t starve to death and rot away on this already-rotting farm. Ugh.

Your duck pads up your chest and leans her face into yours. Her beady little eyes stare right into your soul. She’s begging you. Begging you to get wheat so her plump little body doesn’t start to deteriorate. What a manipulator.

A heavy, bone-rattling sigh escapes you as you gently push her off of you and sit up. This is it. You have to face everyone, again, after embarrassing yourself in front of the stupid boy you like and his mother, of all people. Fortunately for you, they live up in the mountains, so a little trip to PIerre’s in town wouldn’t be so much of a risk. You’d be fine. You could still be a functioning adult, so long as you didn't wander up north where the mines were.

…

Okay, well. You lied to yourself.

It was all a big lie. A big lie you told yourself to feel some kind of security about leaving your stupid, lonely farm and going into town and getting the stupid seeds that you needed. You’re a liar, a fraud, and a chronic-problem-avoider, and none of those problems would ever get fixed during your probably-very-short-lifespan. Short, of course, because you were going to die in the middle of Pierre’s shop, right here and right now in the produce aisle.

Because of course, as luck would have it, Sebastian is right there too. Staring at you. Holding two unshucked ears of corn, in his hands. You would laugh at how silly he looked if this wasn’t so humiliating.

“Um.” He’s the first to say anything. Hearing his voice after a week startles you enough to make you stiffen even more and your shaky hands threaten to drop the seed packets to the floor. His eyes are wide and there’s a flush to his cheeks that might be from the leftover chill of the outdoors. Despite everything, you hope maybe it’s because of you instead.

You can’t form words. Your mouth flutters open and closed like a trapdoor until you decide to keep them tightly shut. Devastating. Humiliating. Mortifying. There are so many words that you’ve used so often over the last two weeks that you could continue to use here. Your vocabulary is not very expansive in the slightest, but it’s not your fault you’ve been put in the same types of scenarios so often.

“Hello,” you choke out. Surprisingly, your voice is steady for the most part. The rest of you is not. The seeds rattle in your hands and you can feel your legs locked up. Anxiety floods through you like ice water and freezes in your bone marrow. You’re stuck. You might throw up. Again, this is a very common theme in every interaction you have with Sebastian. Very unfortunate.

Even more unfortunate is the fact that, despite all the embarrassment and chagrin and overall-horrifying matter of events, you still want to kiss him. You’re reliving the ten-second kiss from the last time you saw him and it’s making you enter some parallel universe in your head—one where his mom didn't catch you kissing, and where he liked you back and maybe let you sleep over his house like he said he would, and where you could kiss him even more. You’re getting whiplash from everything running through your head. God.

“I, um…” he clearly feels just as awkward, which does nothing to reassure you. “Haven’t seen you in a while. We thought you’d… show up to the saloon, or.” Sebastian cuts himself off early. He must realize by your completely unmoving form that you’re not planning on loosening up at all during the course of this conversation.

“Right, um,” you scramble for some kind of excuse but you know that regardless of what you say, he’s gonna know. He’s not gonna believe a single thing you say, because he knows. He was there. He was the one that you kissed.

There’s no way he’s not completely aware at this time. Totally and utterly aware that you’re indescribably in love with him, more than infatuated. He must know that you like him so much it makes your chest hurt and your head ache with the untamable need to kiss him stupid every time you see his face. He must know. You’d risked it all, laid it open on the table for him last week when you kissed him and he didn't do much with it, really, which was fine but—he must know. After all of this.

A thought rushes through your head and it immediately heats up the ice in your bones. You’re moving, now, this time at a pace that can only be achieved by spontaneous ferocity and a phobia of the mother of the boy you like. You’re quick to act, lunging forward and grabbing his arm to pull his entire form behind the shelf.

“Is your mom here?!” you whisper harshly at him. You didn't even think of it until now, the fact that he might be here with his mother and that would mean you’d have to face her not on your own terms. A confrontation would start up in the middle of this quiet, quaint little grocery store, and you’d have to yield and nod at an angry ginger woman as she called you a hussy, or something. Or— no, Robin wouldn’t call you a hussy. She was too nice for that. Pam would call you a hussy, probably. Well.

The distress in your voice must come out clearly enough for him because he frantically shakes his head and whispers back a definite no! It’s too late to reel you back in, though, and your mind is already going a million miles a minute. If you’re going to do anything, you have to do it now, because otherwise you will never speak a single word to this family ever again.

“You— Please tell your mom that I’m sorry, like so very very sorry, and I will give her so many of my crops and hardwood and stone to make up for everything. And—” you shush him when he tries to interrupt, talking over him rapidly to stop him from trying it again, “—I didn't mean to— or, I did mean— um, point is. Tell your mom. I’m so sorry. And that I really need a coop upgrade and I’ll pay her double what it normally is to make up for everything.” You pause. “Please.”

Sebastian is. Speechless. It’s not often that you see him like this—in fact, you don’t think you’ve actually ever seen him like this. His mouth flutters open and closed. Trapdoor, just like you, earlier. The shared traits between both of you make you want to throw up and scream. It’s too endearing and you want to rip your heart out before another situation happens just like last time, this time with Pierre as your witness.

“What…” he begins, “are you talking about?” The furrow in his brow is one of genuine confusion, and so is the high-pitched lilt of his questioning voice. It only serves to make you more confused. And more agitated because this is really really embarrassing and the heat of it is starting to settle on your face and neck.

“What. Do you think. I’m talking about.”

He obviously does not get the hint. He stays quiet, expression frustratingly unmoving as he blinks once, twice, three times at you. Holy shit.

“I’m not going to say it,” you tell him. Any kind of confidence you had going into this conversation has dissipated and melted into a gooey kind of embarrassment. Suddenly, you’re back in the grade school nurse’s office, flinching at the disappointed look she gives you as she writes you a pass back to class—back to your impending doom and the D-minus that awaits you. This is that. This is worse than that by ten— no, a thousand times.

“Are you five years old? What are you talking about, just say—!”

“You are so embarrassing.” You hiss at him, but there’s really no weight in your lackluster insult. It’s more of a half hearted attempt to get him to stop talking about everything and anything, at least until you get out of this goddamn store and maybe even this goddamn town where everyone likes to gossip.

You nearly tear the stupid ears of corn out of his stupid hands in your rush to get out of this store. “Are you— Is this the only thing you’re buying?” At his nod, you grab three more packets of miscellaneous seeds and start your rushed walk to the counter to check out.

“What are you doing?!” His voice is a frantic whisper, matching your tone, but it’s less aggravated and more just genuinely confused. Sebastian seems dazed, threaded into the spinning loom of your contagious anxiety. You feel bad about it, really, but you’re threaded right next to him in an aggravating bright yellow string, and it’s hard to untangle yourself.

“Please shut up,” you mumble, and then you’re at the counter and ignoring Pierre’s worried look as you pull crinkled dollar bills from your pockets. The transaction is fast, thankfully, and the cost of Sebastian’s items doesn’t set you back too much. Before you know it, you’re gripping part of his hoodie sleeve and dragging him out the door behind you.

The chill of fall hits you when you step outside. A foggy breath escapes you as you gain the courage to turn back at him. “You. Need to take these to your mom,” you thrust the stupid corn back into his arms and he catches them, thankfully, “and tell her I’m sorry. And pretend everything never happened. Tell her I’m. Really super very sorry.”

“I don’t think you— I’m. Not sure I understand,” he counters you, hesitant but determined in the way he keeps going, “she’s not mad at you. Why are you apologizing? I haven’t seen you for a week and now…?”

Aw. Maybe you should find it sweet that he seems at least a little bit upset about not seeing you, almost like he missed you. That delusional thought is muffled by the stress of everything you’re talking about, though.

“Hussy.”

“What?”

“Um.” There is no coming back from this. “Does she— Do people say that here? Does she. Think I’m a hussy.”

This is a ridiculous conversation. Every single interaction you’ve had with Sebastian, ever, has been ridiculous, and this is doing nothing to disprove that. You’ve actually going to puke. You know, it’s been just a joking threat these past few weeks, but this time you’re really going to vomit all over his stupid skater sneakers.

He’s dead silent, startled into submission by your words and you can’t even blame him. Who says the word hussy?! Why did you think anyone would call you a hussy?!?!

“I kissed her son in the dead of night right in front of her house,” you speak slowly and clearly, forcing yourself past the utter mortification that freezes your fingers and makes bile stir in your stomach, “and you’re saying that she doesn’t, um. That she’s… not mad.”

There is no coming back from this. Again. You’re grasping for either reassurance Sebastian’s mouth does that trapdoor thing again. You contemplate dropping all your seeds and running. Maybe the birds will like them.

“No. You just left me on my porch.” And he’s upset. At least a little bit. It shows in the incredulous tone of his voice and the way his lips stay parted in disbelief. You did, unfortunately, leave him on that porch that night. He’s not… wrong about that. “And then avoided me for a week. You didn't even come into town at all. Abigail and Sam told me they never saw you. Did you never leave your farm just so you wouldn’t see me?” Hurt. He’s hurt, not just upset.

Now you just feel stupid. You didn't even consider the implications of kissing someone and then running away and never seeing them again. In your defense, it wasn’t because of him, more because of his mom and the very likely (read: completely inaccurate) prediction that Robin would beat you up on sight.

“No!” You’re frantic to clear things up, but judging by his doubtful expression you’re going to have to do a lot to reach that goal. “That’s. It wasn’t on purpose. It was embarrassing.” It’s probably still the wrong choice of words. His face flinches and he glances to the side in discomfort. You’re losing him. You’re so, so bad at this. No kidding. That’s why you kissed a guy in front of his mom and almost threw up on his shoes, like, twice. Three times.

Maybe if you put it into perspective. “How would you feel if you kissed someone in their front lawn and then their mom came out and caught you guys kissing and on top of that, what if you were the new person in town and everyone still kind of maybe doesn’t like you completely, and you just ruined your reputation by kissing somebody in front of their parent?” Okay. Effective.

It’s quiet. He’s blinking at you. You get that response a lot whenever you speak to him, really. Maybe that’s a testament to your eloquence. (It’s really not.)

“And,” you keep going, because of course you do, “you never visited me, never sent a letter, nothing. Nobody came to see me. And. I kissed you and then you said nothing and. What was I supposed to do?!”

It’s what you’ve held back for a week now. Really, you weren’t expecting him to show up at your house and confess his undying love for you. A kiss is just a kiss. But if he was going to bring up the whole never-seeing-him-again thing, then you could do that too.

“You.” Trapdoor. He stutters and falters and lets out a sigh that deflates all the tension in his body. “My mom. Wants you to come over for dinner.”

Okay. Well. What the fuck does that mean.

“I want you to come over for dinner,” he clarifies. The furrow in his brow is one of certainty instead of confusion. His eyes meet yours, and stay locked for as long as his inner anxieties allow before he’s looking to the side and avoiding your wide-eyed stare.

Oh. Okay. That’s what. He means.

“Well,” you say out loud, because you’re an idiot and can’t ever control the words that spill out of your mouth. “Then. I would really love having dinner with you.” It’s supposed to come out determined, assured, maybe even a little flirty. Instead, it comes out awkwardly and stilted and you think you might be making a weird face at him on accident. The message clearly gets across, though, because the subtle tension in his face dissipates and he’s starting to smile at you. His stupid, awkward, tucked-in smile. You will yourself to not kiss him in the middle of the town square.

He mumbles a hazy “yeah,” and for a moment you think he sounds almost… dreamy. Lovestruck, maybe. Of course he’s not, because he’s Sebastian and you’re the farmer (th farmer that kissed him, and he kissed back, and now he’s inviting to his house for dinner, but. Well. That’s besides the point). It’s wishful thinking, but you still can’t help the way your eyes trail across his face and down and along the seam of his lips and. There’s the craving to kiss him, reignited, stirring deep in your chest and stomach and in the twitch of your fingertips.

“I guess that means we have to make plans for it,” and there’s some odd deeper meaning in his words, and his eyes are flitting to the side before coming back to you again. His lips twitch in something close to mischief, but not quite. “I guess that I should come over. To talk about plans.”

You’re smiling. You try to resist it, scared you’ll look stupid with how wide you’re grinning but you can’t help it and now you’re smiling with teeth and pressing a giggle back down your throat before you start shrieking in joy. “I think you should. I think I should walk you to my house and talk about. Dinner plans. Totally dinner plans.” Sebastian’s eyes flit to your lips for a moment, a devastating, knee-weakening palm-dampening bone-rattling moment. You’re very certain that you didn't imagine it in some infatuated haze. The corners of his lips tuck into that smile you love so much, too much, and he lets out a breathy sort of laugh. “Dinner plans.”

You walk him home—to your home, this time. There’s seeds in your right hand and the two ears of corn in his left, and your proximity as you walk makes it so that your hands brush together slightly with every step you take. His hands are dry from the cold. You don’t tell him that.

And you two don’t hold hands on the way home, because that would be silly. Because you’re just walking him to your house, to talk about dinner plans. There’s a bubble of unspoken things around the both of you, but there’s something between the looks you share with each other that makes you stop caring so much about saying things. You’re not very good at that, anyways.

You show him your favorite duck in your coop, the one you want Robin to upgrade, and then your cool cheese press machine that accounts for half the money you earn from your farm. He’s finally introduced to Kitty, who yowls at him once before padding up to him and biting his calf. You tell him it’s her love language.

And you talk about dinner plans. Or. Well. Who are you kidding. You kiss him silly. Silly and stupid in your kitchen, tugging on the sleeves and cuffs of his hoodie and then the hairs at the nape of his neck and then his fingers, trailing your own against his palm in circles and spirals and heart shapes that you’re almost embarrassed to be making. Almost. But not really.

You don’t really have the time or mind to be embarrassed, really. Not when you’re dizzy and warm and giggling into the lips of the pretty boy you’re in love with. And, not when you’re busy making dinner plans, of course.

#stardew valley x reader #sebastian x reader #sdv x reader #stardew valley #stardew valley sebastian #sebastian sdv x reader #sebastian stardew valley x reader #sebastian sdv #stardew valley x farmer #sebastian x farmer #sebastian sdv x farmer #stardew valley fanfic #sebastian fanfic #sebastian sdv fanfic #I DID IT GOOD LORD #ill write a makeout scene to make up for this #maybe #...hopefully

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lunarw0rks · 8 months

Note

https://twitter.com/46___suki/status/1705335640861102103/mediaviewer

cw: turn your volume down, rough car sex.

but likeeeeeeeee…this w who? i was thinking soap

a/n; that looks painful 😭😭 but what do i know i'm a virg

car sex w/ soap;

so rare, and not because of privacy. he has no shame. it's because prefers to have room for both of you to move; his body crammed in the backseat with you? it's a snug fit.

but does that stop him from taking you anywhere, and everywhere? not even a little bit.

driving home with him after picking him up at the airport. everything was routine, aside from the fact that he had arrived later than anticipated. nippy, chilled air; pitch black, except for the lights from the building. standing by the car and engulfing him in a long, tight embrace, as if making up for months of lost time.

he's not as jet lagged as you expected, since he apparently 'took a long nap' on the plane. johnny is surprisingly energetic for a man who spent months away from home and landed in the dead of night — but that was soap, in essence. he insisted on driving back to make up for the wait and also scolded you a dozen times for waiting out in the cold for him.

his hand squeezing your thigh, while the other remains on the wheel. any other day, you'd think nothing of it. but it had been months; hearing his voice through a phone or laptop, merely imagining his touch instead of experiencing it.

you grip soap's wrist as he kneads your thigh, tensing up when he starts to move his rough palm up further. "what? ye got all dressed up and expect to not be teased?"

the car isn't even out of the lot and you're hot and bothered. who is he to say no? well, he can't. pulls the car off to the side, where there aren't any streetlights. before you can process anything, he coaxes you into the backseat, shredding off your bottoms. the pads of his fingers rub circles along your clothed clit — the fabric soaked and sticky, clinging to the swollen nub. soap moaned against your mouth, rolling your panties down to expose your core.

as slick and needy as he expected; from the moment he walked out of the airport, how you clenched your thighs and trembled when he squeezed the fat of your hips. you weren't exactly subtle.

•·················•·················• •·················•·················• •·················•·················•

practically folds you in half, both to exude control and to accommodate the lack of space in the backseat. your knees bent as far as they'll go, stomach practically crushed by his weight as he hovers over you. soap hooks his arms around your thighs as he dips inside of you; slow at first, then all at once before you can catch your breath.

your literal breath knocked out of you with every single thrust, his hips crashing against yours with strength. no time wasted, and you weren't sure you wanted there to be. his girthy length stretching out your entrance — a perfect mesh of sting and satisfaction.

the tinted windows brushed with a layer of steam after every rapid breath, almost a perfect camouflage if you weren't reciting his name like a prayer.

his head dips down and you lift yours, allowing him to practically drool against your lips. you hold onto his waist, digging your fingernails into the flesh until the crescent marks are embedded and then some. it's as if soap is filling you to the brim; distinct squelches when he withdraws completely, only to bottom out with a harsh snap of his pelvis.

you writhe in pleasure, fingers gripping onto anything you can palm. after months deprived, you had been waiting for this sensation again. only to be bombarded and overwhelmed beyond comprehension — in the best way. "missed this fuckin' cock, didn't ye? fuck... you did? look at you."

๋࣭ ⭑ ๋࣭ ⭑ divider cred. - cafekitsune

#complete filth #can't stop thinking of this scenario #rachel speaks #john soap mactavish #soap call of duty #soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish smut #soap mw2 #soap cod #soap mactavish #soap x you #soap x reader #soap x y/n #soap x fem reader #mw2 #call of duty

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azullumi · 10 months

Text

“boyfriend messages” ; diluc & kaveh

info — random conversations between you two that are part of your daily life; alternatively, how does he communicate through text messages?

characters — diluc and kaveh (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — fluff, established relationship, modern au ; headcanons

words — 920

note — need me a gossip buddy who’ll film fights for me, also, ignore the timestamps and status bar !! i still have another fic coming up but i need to be focused while writing it (^^)/

;; 🍷

he’s often the first one to greet you in the morning, the first one to give you a call before you start your day, always the one to accompany you.

calls. call. calls. if it’s not so obvious already, this man prefers calling more than texting—prefers hearing your voice than reading words on a digital screen and having to imagine what you would sound like saying them. he always make sure that he calls you at least once each day, even if one of you has to hang up after a few minutes or if you two would only do their own thing and not talk to each other that much. in line of that, falling asleep during the call is something that isn’t uncommon between you and him.

aside from other close friends and acquaintances, you’re the only one in his contacts and the only one he always talk to—his call history is just you accompanied with a few others and your name is always on top of his messages. he has your profile saved with a sweet endearment as its name and a photo that he took of you, in which its existence you don’t know of.

a random thing about him is that he doesn’t use emojis at all, and prefers not using them. it’s not like he doesn’t understand the use of it, it’s just that he chooses not to. on that note, he doesn’t go ‘AHAHAHAHA’ in text whenever he finds something funny—he doesn’t go for the lowercase one either—he simply just tells you: “that’s funny.”

he’s not afraid to tell you that he misses you, that he wants to see you, and just one word from you, one message, a single statement, he’ll be right there at your doorstep to satisfy his yearning and yours also. even if he’s from the other side of the world, he’ll make his way to you as long as you also feel the same.

one thing that he often does for you is drop off gifts for you or have it delivered to your name without your knowledge and thus, he always end up surprising you��sending him a message as soon as you receive it with a bunch of question marks or anything. his gifts are often random, a variety, it could be food, could be books, jewelry, something that has been in your wishlist or cart for so long but couldn’t get, and many more. his reason? he just wants to. it’s not an exaggeration to say that your home isn’t filled with items that you got from him.

have i mentioned that he just loves showing off his affection to you in many ways that he can? he just loves you, that’s all the reason needed for everything.

;; 🌻

gossip buddy and lover boy. gossip is always found in your message history with him, it’s that one topic that has you two talking for hours, often diverting to another one before going back to it at just a mention of a word—“speaking of apples, did you know ‘toilet’ got into trouble because he threw one at the window? also, i heard that he cheated on his girlfriend.”

the most ridiculous code names are being used as a substitute for someone’s name and if someone were to ever hear you or see the chats, they would end up being confused on why are you talking about a water bottle and a shower head having a fight in a bar.

he is exceptionally good at expressing himself through texting despite the many struggles of others when doing so—he uses emojis, gifs, emoticons, images, and everything, it’s not shocking that he uses some combinations even and it’s not also surprising that you’ll get used to his texting language and even adapt to it. although, he often shortens his words whenever he’s in a rush: ‘sry hve 2 go, ppl r clling m’ is translated to, ‘sorry i have to go, people are calling me’ and there’s a mwa (a kiss in the form of words) at the end.

the type to greet you as soon as the clock strikes twelve when it’s your birthday, the type to send the randomest message at the most random time on the morning, and the type that will tell you in advance if he wouldn’t be able to message you for some time as he’s occupied with some things—mainly, his plates—which gets you worried because when he’s at that state, he will most likely forget to take care of himself.

that leads you to having to check up on him from time to time, asking if he had eaten anything and telling him to take a break. he appreciates it really, despite the scoldings he gets from you when you learn of the fact that he had neglected himself, it shows that you care.

he sends photos of himself, a selfie or a mirror photo showing off his outfit before he goes out. he hasn’t said it but he loves it whenever you rain him with compliments, it has him grinning like an idiot on his phone (mans kicks his feet and rolls around the bed).

he just loves talking to you, whether it’s through the mere act of messaging and calling each other or doing it in real-time, gossiping and discussing about rumors that would entertain you both for boths or simply just him admiring you with his eyes as he listened to you blabber about the most randomest things.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin fluff #genshin headcanons #genshin x you #diluc headcanons #diluc x reader #diluc x you #genshin diluc #genshin kaveh #kaveh x reader #kaveh x you #kaveh headcanons #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact headcanons #azul.writes

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ohbabydollie · 20 days

Note

Need more jschlatt w a latían baddie (never knew I needed this kind of representation:,)

I’m actually Latina!! I tried looking for schlatt x latina! Reader and I could never find any so I was like if they don’t do it I will! (Not to mention he can literally speak spanish + his interactions n friendship w/quackity are so cute)

he starts picking up slang that you use and inserting it into conversation casually

like to the point he subconsciously uses it and has to explain it to whoever doesn’t understand

he makes fun of your accent

in english or in spanish and will use it until you notice he’s making fun of you

loves slapping your ass, especially in flared leggings

shows it off to chat every single chance he is given

“see that chat? that’s what a real woman looks like”

“i hate to see her go but i love to see her leave”

if you’re a cc/influencer, schlatt’s fans end up also going to you

yk those baddies that are also into nerd shit? like megan thee stallion

if you’re one of those, people ask him how he got so lucky

they call him your white boy

he loves recording you on saturday mornings before you have makeup on

you’re sitting on the bed watching some show, anime, etc. that you’ve recently been into while eating cereal wearing one of his hoodies

you block the camera telling him “no pictures before you have your face on”

he thinks your bare face is so cute

if you have/had braces he loves bringing it up

if you wear glasses he likes to hide them or take secret pictures of you wearing them

buys you jewelry if you’ve been talking about getting a specific one for a while

if you tell him you’re going out he makes sure to slip you a few hundreds and tells you to enjoy yourself for him

if he ever had to compete with other guys for you he makes sure everyone knows why he got chosen in the end

he’s always super romantic with you, buying you gifts and getting you flowers

from time to time people find videos off of someone’s facebook of the two of you dancing at a party

sometimes he’ll hear the door open when you get back home and he leaves the chat alone for a bit and comes back with some food and a glossy kiss mark on his cheek

if he dares to wipe it off and you see it on stream you go in and kiss all over his face

likes to do a bit where you’re being “toxic”

secretly enjoys it when you yell at him and get mad because you can’t be mad at him too long

says stupid shit to you in spanish all the time while he’s on stream

he annoys the fuck outta you sometimes but you still love your stupid gringo

#schlatt x reader #jschlatt x reader #jschlatt x you #jschlatt x y/n #schlatt x y/n #schlatt x you #jschlatt fluff #schlatt fluff

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messyhairedhazeleyeddude · 5 months

Text

Detriment | Jujutsu Kaisen

A Yuji Itadori / Sukuna x Fem!Reader | ANGST + SMUT

Contents ; Angst, violence, sadism, slight non-con, gore details, voyeurism, and humiliation.

Dynamic ; Soft Dom!Itadori | Hard Dom!Sukuna | Sub!Fem!Reader

P.O.V ; Third

Pronouns used ; She/Her

Age Range ; 18+ | College Years

(Wow! What a great way to start this off, huh? Don’t be nervous. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. Grab some snacks if you want and curl up into whatever blanket you got. Listen to some music too, here’s something I recommend as always.)

━ ━°⌜ 始まり ⌟°━ ━ | Translation : The Beginning |

Sorcerors barely have time for love. That was agreed upon everyone who lived in the profession. No one among Jujutsu High could go for a relationship grander than a simple fling or a couple of flirtatious exchanges with someone outside the school.

If they did marry eventually, the couple wouldn’t go without a very rocky path ahead of them. Either one would die in battle and the other would follow suit in depression or it would turn for the worse in causing the pair to resent each other. Barely anything in between.

Succession only came with retiring from sorcery which rarely happened. It was too dangerous to leave the life behind. And for Yuji Itadori, he was trapped there until his life ended. So, with all of that that in mind, why was she on a date?

He was staring at the girl he had a crush on for almost the entire semester leaning her head on the shoulder of Toge Inumaki, sleeping soundly as he patted her. Grief writhed itself in his expression and a couple of tears began to brim the corners of his eyes.

The defeated boy turned around from the sight and laid his forehead on both of his arms, trying to wipe away his heartbreak. While both of his peers, Nobara and Megumi tried their best to rush over to him to spout nonsensical comfort. He was just running away from them not too long ago. The two were acting weird and awkward, hushing things to each other.

When he found out that it was about (Y/N) from the small whisper of her name, he bugged them over and over to let him in on the gossip. Eventually, he gave up and went to find out for himself. He wished he never heard a single murmur now.

Before Itadori knew it, he was full blown sobbing against the brick staircase. He knew he shouldn’t feel this terrible about something that was destined to never happen in the first place. Although, that didn’t change anything on what he felt. Even as both of his classmates watched him have the breakdown. Nothing stopped the rage from coming to him.

Hyperventilating, Yuji stood back onto both feet, mumbling to himself while his reality was shifting into different colors. Something was wrong. He noticed what he was feeling instantly. But, that couldn’t be right. Sukuna had no reason to come out. Why would he waste his time on this?

The loss of control on his emotions gave him a huge disadvantage when trying to hold back the king of curses. It felt like his limbs were being crushed as he fought him. Worst thing about it wasn’t the pain though, it was the fact he could hear him.

“You’re really going to let a man that can’t even speak get her like that, huh?” Sukuna bellowed out in his head, “How pathetic!” So that was it. He was here to taunt him.

If Itadori could, he would beat into his skull all of the anger that was running through his veins currently. But, he was no match for him. He understood that as soon as his body felt numb and all he could do was watch him take over. Once again.

A smirk appeared over the huge frown that was there a second ago, markings appearing and disappearing to signify who was truly present. Both Megumi and Nobara jumped back with their bodies positioned in a fighting stance, bringing out their closest weapons to point them at Sukuna.

They both had a terrified look to their eyes, focused on keeping a safe distance, and guarded for anything that he tried. Although, they also knew that it wouldn’t do to stop him and they’d probably die any minute.

Sweat dripped down from Megumi’s forehead as he shouted at the evil curse, “Sukuna! Return Itadori or else!” He summoned his demon dogs who immediately went to lowering themselves and approaching him slowly. A part of him was worried it was the end already, but he could tell that Sukuna still didn’t have his full potential. He was weak.

Nobara wanted to add in her own demands too, “We aren’t afraid to pummel ourselves into the ground with you until you do.” Even though it was shaky, she held up three nails in each of her fingers, auras of cursed energy embedded in every single one. Her eyes gave off a bit of a crazier look while she grinned back at him.

It was right there that the demon himself clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth several times at them, “Tch, tch, tch…” The red flared in his orbs while his sharp teeth brimmed his bottom lip, letting them soak in his frightening presence.

As much as he wanted to kill them, Itadori was fighting hard on the inside, and he didn’t have enough time before Satoru would show up. That meeting had to wait. So, he decided he would ‘clear the air’ and that was through forcefully grabbing Nobara by the neck; lifting her up while disabling her nails and hammer by using his ability, ‘Dismantle’.

He dug his fingernails into her neck, causing her to grab at his wrist, struggling to breath. Megumi unleashed the demon dogs, the shikigami’s rushing to his legs and opening their jaws to bite. But they didn’t get to latch their teeth in as they were cut into a million pieces in an instant.

Closing his eyes, Sukuna took in a deep inhale and sighed out in satisfaction, “I can smell her. That raw power. No wonder this kid is drawn.” His smirk widened and he cracked his neck, throwing Nobara to the side, and causing her to slide on the concrete before hitting her back on a stone wall.

Megumi yelled out her name, rushing over to her side while Sukuna began walking towards the direction of (Y/N), his hands shoving themselves into his pockets. He continued, “I’m here to give him a hand… And take something that was meant to be mine.” The excitement in his voice never wavered. It increased.

All at once, Megumi threw the rest of his shikigami’s toward him, but none were able to get past his attacks. Every time, they were slashed into tiny pieces and a puddle of blood and guts. The black-haired boy fell to his knees next to Nobara, picking her up in his arms and checking to see if she was okay.

Nothing else stopped him from approaching the girl anymore. Instead, he got to her. Inumaki tried to say something before he could reach them, but it was too late because by the time he opened his mouth, Sukuna opened his domain.

“Domain Expansion. Malevolent Shrine.”

Everything was shrouded in black. Then the piles of bones surrounded him, leaving him on top of the throne of the fossils left behind from his victims, sitting like he was a king. He was, in terms.

(Y/N) stared up at Sukuna with terror in her expression, stumbling backwards until she fell onto her knees. “No… No… What’s going on?” she looked down at her palms shaking, her eyebrows knitted together as she tried to level herself.

That didn’t work. She was left freaking out. Who wouldn’t be? This was guaranteed death. She was facing her end. And it was all because she was too weak. There was no way she would come out of this. She was facing the top of the food chain in regards to power. But, why?

“You have something of mine,” as if answering her question, he declared that out loud. His fingers pressing into the side of his forehead as he observed her with amusement. The robes he was wearing shifted when he began to stand, scaling down the mountain using all the skulls as stairs.

(Y/N) knew what he was talking about once he said it, putting her right hand over her left to cover the finger she kept. They had stitched it onto her body a long time ago. It was cruel attempt at keeping it safe. But, it worked. Until now.

He chuckled, “You can’t seriously be wanting to keep that thing on you forever, (Y/N)?” Using the last bits of bones to dismount off of the pile onto the ground. He was leveled with her. Sukuna was in front of her.

She heard of him millions of times, especially since she was the keeper of one of his fingers, but she always liked to think of it as some stupid horror story. Forgetting how real it was made this ten times harder for her to swallow. It was worse when she became friends with Itadori considering how sweet he was. The growing crush on him was beyond terrifying. Exactly for this reason. Wait, what was the reason for him being here?

He knelt down, gripping her chin with two fingers, his sharp nails poking underneath her jaw while tilting her head to make her look him in the eyes. Glaring down at her with that same crooked smile, he muttered out a question, “You like having my power, hm?”

The panicking girl didn’t know how to answer. She didn’t have one, really. It was a yes, possibly. But, at the same time, she knew who it came from. And seeing him here didn’t convince her to want it anymore. He couldn’t have it though. No way in hell was she going to hand it over.

Sukuna seemed to pick up on this because he started to gradually laugh louder and louder, his eyes widening along with the the second pair on his cheeks. (Y/N) watched him, paralyzed out of fear, and shook when he cackled out, “You know what?! I’m feeling in a generous mood today! Itadori, you watching this?”

It looked like he was shouting at no one. But, she knew that the original boy that she was friends with was witnessing everything and that made her sick to her stomach. Sick at what this monster could do to him.

Then without hesitation, as if he got his answer, her hand was raised into the air and she wasn’t able to pull it away. Sukuna bit off the entire tip of the finger that was already connected to her nerves, making her scream at the top of her lungs, and writhe in agony.

He swallowed the chunk and slammed a palm onto her head, pushing her down into the concrete of his domain as it felt like knives sliced across her thighs and arms. “What were you doing with Inumaki?” his voiced lowered while asking.

That was confusing more than anything to hear. Why would he ask that? Why was he concerned about that? So many questions flew through her head but she had to respond, his impatience was obviously short from how hard he was gripping her. She choked on her sentence, managing to piece it together, “He was teaching me how to control cursed energy better. I passed out from trying too hard…”

A hum vibrated out of his throat, his hand no longer crushing her head in while he laughed manically for another moment. “Ohoho, that’s gotta be the best thing I’ve heard all my years alive! And to think, the kid was so worried about you, he was breaking his own soul!”

Whatever Sukuna was talking about, it was hard for her to understand. Hell, she couldn’t make sense of it even after he had that fit with himself. Instead, she was left to deal with the confusion as the cursed man moved forward with what else he had planned.

Each piece of her clothing was cut off of her, shredded onto the floor, and leaving (Y/N) naked. She couldn’t even feel it happening. It was the cold that made her get what he was doing.

But, there was nothing for her to attempt. She would die if she refused. And what he said, it was right. He was feeling in a good mood if this is what he was deciding to do to her. She’s heard of the torture he’s committed, the massacres, what he was doing was simply nothing compared to the rest. And Itadori. If he was witnessing her being raped and it was by his body, it would be horrible for him after it’s over.

(Y/N) had to save Yuji. So, as Sukuna dug his nails into her hips and stripped his robes off, she let out one last request, “Can it please be Itadori first if you’re going to do this? Please…” He stopped what he was doing automatically.

The King of Curses ended up thinking about it despite the brutal urge he had to destroy them mentally, hearing the shocked voice of the trapped boy wondering what she just suggested.

He had to admit. It was amusing to see the guy in such a state. Snickering, he obliged and said his last words before letting him take back control, “For now, I will. This comes with a price. I hope you know that, (Y/N)”

Itadori gasped when he slipped back into his own body, looking down at her and coming face-to-face with his naked crush’s back. A huge blush swept across his cheeks and he stuttered in surprise and panic, “He let me? H-He hurt… He killed Megumi’s shikigami’s… He.. did this to you.. I did this. I let him. I wasn’t-“

Before he could spiral further, she reached up to him and turned to face toward his chest, pressing her lips on his. He needed to stop thinking if he was going to succeed. She couldn’t afford much more time with him, they were on a limit.

Her legs wrapped around his waist and she parted from him to encourage, “Do it. Just fuck me, Itadori. Don’t think about anything. I want you to be the one, not him.” That was enough for him to listen.

Positioning himself awkwardly, he pressed against her folds to prepare her and himself. There was so much to worry about and so much for him to do. But, here he was, having sex with the one girl he’d been fantasizing about for weeks. Yeah, it was great having her like this. What about Inumaki? Everyone? What could he do?

Itadori finally got to pushing himself inside, his pupils wide, and his jaw hanging open as he panted out a couple of noises. It was the best feeling he’s ever had. Warm and fit perfectly around him. Just like he thought it would. But better.

He criticized himself in his thoughts, ‘You shouldn’t be enjoying this.’ He tried to put himself down over and over. But, it was ignored by a thrust. And then another. And another. Until he was at a pace that made both of them stuck in the act. Her hands wrapped around his neck, matching her legs as she gave up.

Her body felt like it was going limp, loosely hanging on as her (E/C) eyes were looking up at him in a daze. The aggression in him instinctively increased and before he processed what he was doing, he was pouring every emotion he had into ramming her. She stuttered out moans from the impact each time, her nails finding themselves latching into his back, and clawing down slowly; blood trailing right behind.

There was twinges of pain because of how careless he was becoming and that rage seemed to only be getting worse. She summed it up to him venting out what he could considering they were both in an impossible situation. But, when he leaned forward to the crook of her neck, she heard the rasp of the voice she was dreading to hear, “Time’s up.”

Once they switched, (Y/N) noticed the difference immediately between the two of them. His hand shot to her neck and he dragged his black nails against it, teasing her by softly squeezing at first. Even though that squeeze was still tight enough to make her choke.

Sukuna used his teeth to rip into her shoulder, biting deep into her skin until blood was rushing down the crevices of her chest. She let out a piercing scream that started to crack underneath the pressure of his palm.

He was ruthless. There was no time to adjust to the strength he exerted, only time to cry. She couldn’t see what he was doing to her, but she felt it. And it was so intense that her legs went numb. The sounds of his hips colliding with hers was a loud and sharp slap. Red marks were left on the inner corners of her thighs and exactly where he was aiming all of his force.

When he pulled away from attacking her left side, half of it was covered in a sea of red, all from the amount of times he had sunk his canines in. Pleasure tried to ease the ache for you, it never succeeded because of his cruel treatment.

Any time she moaned, another slice from his technique would cut at her body. And despite her losing so much blood, she was still awake. Hanging on by a thread. That thread being Itadori. She could see a mix of displeasure, sadness, anger, satisfaction, and pure insanity all within the red eyes that took place over his honey brown ones. She really missed that color.

Her eyes were starting to close no matter what after a couple of minutes trying to fight the response to his abuse. But, before they shut, a sound of multiple footsteps stumbling in the domain made her snap her head toward them.

Inumaki, Nobara, and Megumi were looking back at her in devastation. Her pupils shrunk, eyes went wide, and she shrieked out to them, “NO! GET OUT-“

Not even a second thought to it, (Y/N) released her technique, ‘Barrier’, and both Nobara and Inumaki were protected from Sukuna. Except for Megumi. She didn’t have enough in her. He instantly got slashed across the chest, staining his navy black uniform with red, and causing him to fall back.

Megumi Fushiguro was the first put in critical condition.

The skewered girl cried as she was picked up by her hair off of the ground and slammed onto a manifested desk of what resembled flesh. She was stuck staring at her two classmates, exposed and defiled.

Nobara shouted at the top of her lungs, “You sick evil bastard! Let go of her or I’ll shove nails into-” She couldn’t finish before she was incapacitated by his technique. The worst cut being the one on her arm, almost severing it in half and leaving her to grab at it to make sure it didn’t.

Nobara Kugisaki was the second.

(Y/N) tried to plead at Sukuna, hoping that anything she said would convince him to stop, “YOU CAN HAVE ME! NOT THEM! DON’T KILL THEM! PLEASE!”

His narrow sadistic eyes flickered from Inumaki to her back, swiping a tongue across his lips as he chuckled darkly, “What? You want me to save your little boyfriend?” By the sound of that, it was like he was jealous. But, what she was hearing wasn’t correct. She had no relationship with Inumaki and how was he jealous?

Using that, she corrected him, deciding that sparing time with conversation was the route to go, “I have no feelings for Toge… Why are you suggesting it?” Grunts spilled in the middle of her sentence but she was heard.

And he answered with a bloodthirsty grin, “Word got around. Being cuddled up next to someone in broad daylight isn’t friendly, is it?” It was hard to respond with him continuing to fuck her, especially when it was directly in front of Inumaki and Nobara. The shame she was experiencing was like no other and she could no longer look up at their faces.

So, she ended up sobbing by the time she could let it out, “That wasn’t! Anything! I just fell asleep! I JUST FELL ASLEEP!” Her cries grew louder and more desperate, the cursed speech user feeling the exact same way as he ran for them. He couldn’t just watch her die like this. He couldn’t.

Pulling down the neck cover he had, (Y/N) shook her head at the sight of Toge and panicked. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t shut her eyes and watched the white-haired boy shout out a command, “ESCAPE!”

Instantly, she was lifted from Sukuna’s grasp into the air by an invisible force, looking down in surprise at Megumi and Nobara following with. She wished she hadn’t though as she witnessed Inumaki sputtering out blood and collapsing to the ground, limp. That terrible grin never left his face as he glanced up at them being sent out of his domain, winking at (Y/N) like he was telling her, ‘See you later.’

Toge Inumaki was the last.

When everyone made it outside and onto the grass, all of the Jujutsu Sorceror’s were working on getting Sukuna under control again. Gojo being the one to relocate the students to aid while forcing his way into the domain that vanished seconds later.

She won’t ever forget the look on Itadori’s face, covered in her blood, and the disgust in his eyes the moment he locked them with hers. His hands were resting on his lap in front of him and thankfully, his clothes were back to the way they should be. But, it was like the spark in his soul faded. She understood that what Sukuna had planned, worked. From then on, they both were never going to forget what happened.

Yuji Itadori will cease all contact with (Y/N) (L/N).

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