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hellishjoel · 11 months

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talk me down

3.7k / therapist!joel x f!reader

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Summary: You’re finally ready to sit down and discuss your obvious daddy issues. Your therapist, Joel, has his methods.

Warnings/Information/Heads-Up: MA 18+ (minors DNI), NO OUTBREAK, abuse of position (therapist!joel), discussions of parental divorce, daddy issues, praise kink, daddy kink, pet names, cursing/swearing, age gap, handjob (for a lil bit?) unprotected p in v, cockwarming (if you squint?), breathplay (I’m running out of breath typing all this are we good to go?)

A/N: this is my first fic wow how exciting, I can’t thank my new friends enough for the brainstorming and helping make it to tumblr so let’s just get on with it yeah? tell me if you want more, my requests are open x

“Oooh, fuck,” you gasp, your head coming back up to watch as his hand disappeared under the drape of your skirt. Suddenly you felt him cup your aching mound, taking in a short breath at the feeling of finally getting some much-desired pressure down there. “So fuckin’ wet… were you this wet during our whole session, kitten?” He asked. It was sick and twisted, you knew it was. That’s why you let out a shameful little nod, your legs wanting to clench around his hand there. He let out a disgusted scoff, you deserved it. You wanted to fuck your therapist.

“So what brings you here today?”

Your eyes shyly evade his, instead choosing to graze over the belongings of your new therapist’s office. It looked like a small library the way books were lined up and stacked on the shelves. The desk behind him was a dark oak, and everything had its place, not a pen out of line. After you deliberately ignore his question, he probes you again.

“It says on your intake form that you have... A distant relationship with your father due to your parents' divorce. Is that something you want to talk about with me today?”

His voice is sweet like honey, but you’re the only one dripping. You failed during your extended research on therapists to check his picture because you had no idea you signed up for someone so fucking handsome.

Your jaw was tight as you clamped your legs tighter together one draped over the other, trying to conceal your growing arousal. Talk, or he’ll think you’re mute!

“Yes.” You say, clearing your throat as you readjust your skirt over your lap, tugging at the hem.

You confide in Joel about the hardships of your parents growing up. The house was never quiet, always fighting, tearing each other down, and it just wasn’t healthy. You thought you’d thank the lord the day they filed for a divorce. You didn’t expect to lose the relationship you had with your father in the midst of it all.

You were still young, trying to grow up and learn, his absence mattered to you, even if it didn’t to your mother. He came around a lot at first. He’d pick you up from school and steal you away for a few hours, getting ice cream to celebrate your reunion with him.

But then, he got a new girlfriend. You weren’t sure how she managed to replace both you and your mother, but she did. You saw him less, he started not meeting your expectations. Soon, he became a weird distant memory. Now, as a young adult, you combat all the unjust things the wake of his departure caused. You couldn’t bear the thought of dating someone your age. Everyone was young and immature, asking for nudes over text after the first date if they even got your phone number at all. Now it was all just over social media or dating apps.

“Older men are just more... Refined. They have their priorities and goals, and they’re like... Actually accomplishing shit. Guys my age are just..” You paused, your eyes meeting his own to fill in the gaps.

“.. Not meeting your expectations?” Joel asked, his pen clutched in his hand as he scribbled something in his notepad.

“Right.” You let out breathily, your eyes falling to the chest hair you could see exposed by his button-up shirt.

This was a perfect example because look at Dr. Joel Miller! His Ph.D. decorated the wall with numerous other accolades on his shelves, so you knew he was smart. Being a therapist made him a good listener, you’d never have to feel like you were the therapist to a frat guy again.

You let out an involuntary whimper, a white-hot flash soaring through the pit of your stomach. You were dripping for him, and you could feel it against your clenched thighs.

“I know talking about these topics is difficult, but you’re doing a good job.” He praised you as you felt your chest and cheeks flush red with his attention.

Your breathing was staggered, you needed to release the tension between your legs desperately.

“You-- uhm, you think I’m doing a good job?”

His eyes flashed up to you with the question, something dark and tantalizing about the way he looked over you now. It was like a predator meeting prey the way his eyes began to rake over you.

Your arousal was obvious in the way your knee anxiously bounced up and down, continuing to readjust in your seat, begging for him to tell you that your time with him was up so you could go home and use your vibrator on your clit, thinking about Dr. Joel Miller between your legs.

You watched as he stood up from his chair across from you, your eyes tracking him as he nodded slowly. He clasped his hands behind his back, his strong biceps fighting the material of his shirt for dominance. The hand closest to you came down and did a delicate sweep around the rim of the chair you were sitting in.

“You’re doing great, baby girl.” He praised again, stopping to stand next to you. You were eye-level to his waist, your lips parting at the sight of the bulge in his pants. Oh, fuck me, so that’s what he’s been hiding behind his notepad.

His hand gently reached out to you, two straight fingers under your chin as he tilted you up to look at him. Your long eyelashes batted at him, teeth piercing down into your bottom lip. You let out an involuntary sigh as his hand moved up your cheek, bringing you in to rest against his thigh.

He was warm, and he smelled like Old Spice, god, you could swear it was the same one your dad used to use. You whimper at the thought, digging your face gently further into his protection. You felt his hand gently caress the back of your head, stroking back your hair from your face.

You wanted him, your pussy wanted him, and the throbbing need for his attention and affection was incurable. You began to press kisses into the material of his pants, losing all pride as you fell to your knees in front of him and palmed your hand over his growing erection.

You braved looking up at him, his face watching you in adoration, like he was proud of you.

“Is this what you want? I’ll do whatever you want.” You say meekly, desperate to please.

“You know what I think you need?” He asks, his voice dropped an octave, and it was making you purr. He was more sultry now, his hands finding yours and guiding you up off of the floor. You finally shake your head, your hands gently moving up his chest and feeling his toned pecs and broad shoulders.

Seeing him this close made your heart flutter. He was so handsome, so grown. His wispy curls were adorning the same salt and pepper as his beard. He had worn lines by his eyes and on his forehead, his curious mind must always be causing his brows to furrow. He had you breathless at the mouth and achingly wet down below.

“I think you need me to take care of you. Is that what you want, baby? Someone to show you how much they care about you? Someone to be where you need them most?” His strong hand is traveling down your front now, Joel’s pointer finger curling into the front of your skirt. Your lips part as he tugs so hard that you’re falling into him, your small hands clutching the landscape of his biceps.

“Yes-- fuck, please Joel, yes.” You nearly beg. Be there for me, be inside me.

He let out a heavy grunt of satisfaction, closing the distance between you as he cradled your face in his big hands and connected your lips. You felt safe, letting your walls fall down as he took care of you.

You melted in his hold, Joel’s tongue carefully gliding over your bottom one in a request for you to part yours for him. You followed his lead, a whimpering moan leaving you as you felt his tongue invade your mouth. He was moving you backward methodically until the back of your thighs hit the desk you previously admired. Your hips shook the frame, hearing pens and some papers clatter to the floor.

You felt overwhelmingly hot, you needed to shed some layers. Like the mind reader he was, Joel’s hands moved down to the hem of your top, breaking your heated kiss to discard the material in his way.

He generously cupped your breasts held away by your bra, another desperate moan leaving you as you watched him through hooded eyes admire your body. His hands were quick to settle on your hips, fingertips burning into your skin as he lifted you up onto the desk with ease. Fuck, he had the kind of strength that looked effortless.

Joel was taking charge, and it was so nice, he knew exactly what he wanted to do, and you didn’t have to worry about anything. His legs nudged your own open, cool air finally greeting your needy pussy. The sensation had your head falling back, accidentally breaking your kiss once more.

“So fuckin’ wet… were you this wet during our whole session, kitten?” He asked. It was sick and twisted, you knew it was. That’s why you let out a shameful little nod, your legs wanting to clench around his hand there.

He let out a disgusted scoff, you deserved it. You wanted to fuck your therapist.

“You want daddy to take care of that for you with his cock?” His foul words had you at a loss of your own, your jaw slack as he pressed his hips into yours and you could feel his dick pressed right up against your pussy.

“Take daddy’s belt off.” He grumbled his orders, a quick nod leaving you. You didn’t want to waste his time.

“Yes.” You whimpered.

“Yes, what?” His voice was stern and articulate, making you bend your will as his close proximity flooded your senses. You couldn’t find his belt soon enough. You popped the button of his jeans and nearly tore off the zipper at his ask.

“Yes, daddy.” You whimper, a greedy smile on your lips to see you earned his favor. He adoringly cupped one side of your cheek as both of your heads rested against one another’s to watch you pull down his dark briefs.

He let out a strained grunt at the release, his flesh going to slap against his tanned stomach. He was already unbuttoning his shirt as you made a fist around him, watching his face to see how he liked it. Too fast? A little slower? Too rough... You paused and spat down on him, your eyes darting back up to his as he let out a satisfied sigh. Let me do it perfectly for you, Joel.

“So good for me.” He purred, his thumb brushing down the slope of your nose and over your swollen bottom lip that you had bruised from biting down so hard on it. He pushed the tip of his thumb past your lips, the intrusion a surprise but you eagerly sucked to appease him. The action made him swell in your hand to fullness, even beginning to feel too heavy in your hand as you continued to work over him.

“Is this all for me?” You asked eagerly, a sweet smile gracing your face.

You watched as he leaned in, your eyelashes fluttering closed as he came to press his warm lips against the crown of your head. “All for you, baby girl.” He mumbled against your forehead.

“Oh,” you let out in a sweet surprised little moan, your hand working over him eagerly faster. You didn’t care if you got off at this point, as long as he did.

“Lie back, baby.” His voice was rocky like gravel, you could already see his chest heaving at the attention of your hands. You did as he asked, but not before he unclipped your bra so your tits were on full show for him.

You reached one of your hands back, already gripping the edge of the table as you braced yourself for him. He was so large, easily the largest you had ever been with. You wanted to feel every inch of man that he was inside of your throbbing cunt.

Your skirt was merely an obstacle in his way, watching him toss it up to show your lacey panties underneath. You bit down on your lip with a wide smirk on your face, he really liked the lace.

“So fuckin pretty,” he admired, your hands coming to rest over his own, your nails gently grazing down his forearms to his fingers. His pointer finger and thumb grazed over the soaked material, admiring how he could see your pretty pussy underneath it. The lace was so dainty and fragile in his hands, he could just--

You gasp as his large hands rip the delicate lace right open, a messy opening of broken threads but now, he had unlimited access to your sex. He was so strong, you hoped he would split you open the same way.

His hands took a grip on the tops of your parted thighs from the outside, taking one foul yank as you felt him press his cock between your wet folds. You were back to gripping and stroking over his forearms, your delicate hand coming up to feel his stubbled cheek.

“Joel please, I need you.” you whimpered out, his head nodding against yours as a few of the curlier strands on his head fell onto his forehead. He was so handsome when he was turned on.

Joel’s heavy huffs broke the eye contact of his cock gliding up and down your arousal, the slick lubing him perfectly. He was perfectly glazed over now, all because of you, his heavy thumb coming down to gently circle over your throbbing clit.

You let out a cry at the much-needed attention, your walls pulsing for him to fill you up.

“Joel!” You whined out in anticipation, your jaw dropping as he finally guided his tip to you without warning and slammed into your depths until he bottomed out in one thrust. His hand was quick to clamp over your mouth, stopping you from letting out a sobbing moan as tears started to swell at the brim of your eyes.

“Don’t want anyone to hear us, princess,” His voice was broken by grunts and loose breaths, his palm swallowing your hot high pitched whines. “Or else we’ll have to stop.” You did not want him to stop!

You quickly shook your head and clasped your wrist around his which kept your mouth shut. I’ll be good, I’ll be good for you Joel. A tear slipped as you peppered apologetic kisses to the inside of his palm, your eyes desperately connecting with his in a silent ask for him to please continue fucking you.

Joel swiveled his hips back, his jeans clinging to his upper thighs as he rolled back into you. You couldn’t help but clench your eyes closed and let out a broken moan. He filled you up in all the best ways possible, he was perfect inside of you, every goddamn inch. You didn’t realize how loud you had gotten, his hand pushing your head down further into the desk and squeezing into your cheeks until you snapped out of it.

“What did fuckin’ tell you?” He punched out. God, you could feel him pulsating inside of your tight walls.

“God, this tight pussy feels so-- fuckin’ good.”

You moaned quietly at the compliment, a blissed-out smile on your lips still against his palm as he started a steady rhythm rocking into you.

You whimpered as the desk started to creak with each of his heavy thrusts, pinching your ass against the desk but he felt too good to complain. Sure, you’d have a red line imprinted on your cheeks, but hell, it was so worth it. “Such a good fuckin’ girl, little angel for me-- fuck,” he grunted as he used the hand wrapped around your mouth as leverage, holding your head down as his hips snapped into you mercilessly. You were crying out moans into his palm, but nothing loud ever left the room, just like he wanted.

Your hands are clenching at the desk now, desperate not to fly off. Through blurry eyes, you saw his face, tight and twisted as he admired the way your breasts bounced with each of his thrusts.

You bravely reached up to take his hand around your mouth, shifting it down to wrap around your windpipe. You gave him an angelic little smile, biting down on your lower lip to hold in your dirty moans.

Joel watched you in awe, nodding with his sick little half-smirk as he started to squeeze at the sides of your throat. Fuck, he’s done this before, he knows exactly what he’s doing. The heightened experience turns you on, he’s not some 20-something idiot who cares only about getting his dick wet. Joel wants you to cum.

“You look at me baby.. fuck--, don’t break eye contact until you wanna breathe, darlin’.” His accent drawled in your ear and made your pussy even wetter for him. One of his hands squeezed at the sides of your delicate windpipe, his other hand snaking between you two as his electric fingers found your buzzing clit.

The attention was a lot, but you were a whore for it.

His thrusts grew sloppier, but he was pacing himself, Joel wants you to cum first.

You whimper at the idea of him putting you ahead of his own interested and needs, your head growing foggy as your wrist wrapped around his own that held you down but you didn’t look away from his amber eyes. He licked his lips in desire watching you, your lips parting for air as you finally looked away.

He followed through on his promise, his strong hands going lax as your head fell to the side, eyes closing in bliss while your pussy fluttered around his dick.

“Fuck baby girl,” he panted through a mumble as his spare hand massaged over your breasts. “Got me losin’ my goddamn mind.” He moaned something that resembled your name, pinching at your sensitive peaks until he had you whimpering.

“Joel I- oh god,” your stomach dropped as the tip of his dick massaged at your sweet spot, a cry threatening to spill from your lips but you knew he didn’t like you being too loud in his office so you hold it in, your cheeks going hot red.

It was all too much. Your foggy head, his hands on your sensitive bits, his fucking dick slamming into you. You felt so small in his hold, his body shielding you from the outside world as he drove you face-first into your earth-shattering orgasm.

“Joel-Joel please, fuck, I’m gonna-,” Your chin tilted up and your back arched, his hand instantly moving back up to your throat so you could feel even more floated during the crash of your orgasm.

“Cum for me princess. Cum for me now.” He demanded in a mumble.

It coursed through your body like an electric current, your body short-circuiting from the amount of pleasure it was receiving all at once.

Your lips were parted, but nothing came out. You couldn’t hear a thing, only Joel, only him as he ruts himself against your core and you feel him spill his hot cum into the depths of your sex. You lazily smirked as you made your walls flutter around him, your core pulsing. Could almost feel him in your belly.

His breaths were heavy, heavenly. It made your skin clammy, the both of you so fucked up that you were stuck in place. You didn’t realize it, but you had reached up to cup his face, your thumb gently gliding down the curve of his crooked nose. Your lips gently came together as your head came up, kissing the tip of his nose before going to lay back down on his desk.

“Oh, baby girl,” Joel purred in adoration, his mouth coming down to greet yours in a delicate kiss. “Did such a good job.” Both of you were so drunk on your orgasms, everything was so perfect.

You lazily kissed him back, your arms wrapping around the tops of his shoulders with your fingers lightly fisting the hair at the nape of his neck to keep him close as he softened inside of you. You could stay here like this forever.

You glanced over just in time, seeing the last grain of sand fall down in his glass sand timer. Your session with Dr. Joel Miller was over.

He helped you hop off his desk, your wobbly legs needing to find their strength again. His cum was already meeting the tops of your inner thighs, your face blushing at the feeling. You were quite literally gaping for him.

Joel cleared his throat and easily pulled his jeans back up to the top of his hips at his waist, securing his belt and zipper before he fisted your discarded, ripped apart panties.

“Oh,” you whispered a bit embarrassed at the sight of them. You had just finished pulling your shirt back onto your torso, stuffing your bra inside your purse. No way you were going to try and put that thing back on. You reached out for him to hand them over, your eyes widening as he pulled his hand away and stuffed them into his pocket.

“For safe keeping…” He trailed off, his eyes still dark as they looked down at your wide ones. Well, you weren’t getting those back any time soon. They were his now, your torn to threads black lace panties. You nodded and weakly smiled, still trying to catch your breath.

Joel walked you out, tapping his absentminded secretary’s desk to tell her to find something in both of your calendars for a future date.

“I think I can really help you work this out.” He told you on your way out.

As you left his office, you felt like everyone knew what you had just done. But for now, it was just a secret for you and your therapist, Joel.

---------------- taglist: let's be fr lol If you liked talk me down, check out pretty little thing!

#joel miller #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal the last of us #pedro pascal joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #therapist joel #tlou #tlou fic #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #hellishjoel

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candycandy00 · 6 months

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JJK Men as Pervy Mall Santas

JJK Men as Pervy Mall Santas!

You’re at the mall with some friends right around Christmas time, and you can’t help noticing that the Santa seems to be really fucking hot, even with the fake beard. So your friends dare you to sit on his lap, pose for a photo, and tell him you’ve been very naughty this year.

Smut. 18+. Reader is an adult! Dirty talk. Very rough sex (all consensual). Oral sex. Hair pulling.

Gojo:

His eyes light up when you tell him you’ve been naughty. He subtly pulls you closer against his body and says, “Oh? Tell me all about it!”

“I’ve been a very bad girl,” you say. “I’m horny all the time, especially for hot guys in red suits.”

His gloved hands are moving all over you, in ways no one else would notice. He gives a big “Ho ho ho!” laugh and says, “I’m the kind of Santa who gives the best presents to naughty girls like you!”

Thirty minutes later he’s on break and railing you from behind in the closest supply room, staying in character. “You weren’t kidding about being naughty! This pussy is swallowing Santa’s dick so good!”

He leans forward, his fake beard brushing over the back of your neck. “Ready for Santa’s present?” he asks, right before shooting his load inside you.

Geto:

Acts completely calm and unfazed when you say you’ve been naughty, even as one of his hands snakes around under your sweater to grope your tits.

“And what does this naughty girl want for Christmas?” he asks.

You giggle and lean in close to his ear to whisper, “Your cock in my mouth.”

Still smiling calmly, he pinches your nipple and says, “I think Santa can make that happen.”

On his next break he meets you in the restroom, where you suck the life out of him, trying desperately to get a reaction out of him. He’s still maddeningly calm though, just smiling down at you, not even changing expressions when he cums down your throat.

Toji:

“Naughty girls are my favorite kind,” he says as his hand moves up your thigh. He doesn’t seem to mind that anyone watching closely could see what he’s doing. His fingers slip under the crotch of your panties.

You hold back a moan, your hands gripping his strong forearm.

“Meet me in the parking garage in twenty minutes,” he says. “Then you can show me just how naughty you are.”

Later, he has you in the backseat of his car, folded in half, fucking you so hard you can barely think. “Ahhh… Santa, it’s too much!”

He laughs. “Oh? I thought a naughty girl like you could handle me.”

Nanami:

Gives you a stern look and says, “Naughty girls don’t deserve presents.”

Oh no, he’s not taking the bait! So you change tactics, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I can be a good girl for you, Santa. Let me prove it to you.”

His hand slides up your back and creeps into your hair, gripping it firmly. “If you can’t, then I’ll have to punish you for being naughty.”

A few minutes later he has you pressed into a dressing room in a nearby department store, taking his cock as he tightly pulls your hair back. You whimper as his grip tightens and his thrusts become rougher. “Don’t complain,” he says. “This is what you get for being naughty.”

“I’m sorry, Santa,” you mumble out, your body jerking with each thrust, “I’ll be good from now on!”

Choso:

Blushes and averts his eyes when you tell him you’ve been naughty. But when you purposely squirm around in his lap, you can feel a growing bulge.

“Oh my, Santa, are you naughty too?” you ask, rubbing your ass into his crotch.

He glances at your face. “Maybe,” he mutters before looking away again, “but I can be nice too.”

You find out just how nice he can be when he’s got you spread open on the table in the break room, making a meal of your pussy. His tongue circles your clit, making you cry out in pleasure.

He comes up for air, his face tinted pink and his lips slick with your juices. “Is this what you wanted for Christmas?”

Sukuna:

Is not amused by your flirting, but is amused by the idea of making a naughty girl cry on his cock. Will just get up and leave right in the middle of his shift, dragging you out with him. Doesn’t care who sees him leave or how many children he traumatizes with his bloodthirsty smile alone.

Takes you into one of the empty offices and slams you against the wall, yanking up your skirt and fucking you on the spot.

Loves your pitiful cries as you realize you might have bitten off more than you can chew with this Santa. He’s rough and he laughs when you devolve into a cumming, crying mess while he pounds into you.

After he cums in every hole you have, he leaves you sprawled on the floor, covered in various fluids. As he walks out the door, he looks at you over his shoulder and says, “Merry Christmas, naughty girl!”

#gojo x reader #geto x reader #toji x reader #nanami x reader #choso x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo Satoru #geto suguru #sukuna #nanami kento #X reader

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anonimusunnoaniswriting · 2 months

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𝑮𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝑴𝒚 𝑳𝒂𝒅𝒚 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝟏

(𝑺𝒆𝒃𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒂𝒏 𝑴𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒔 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓)

⚠️MDNI. 18+ ADULTS ONLY⚠️

🎀Age in bio or blocked🎀

Rating: Mature

Category: F/M

Fandom: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler

Relationship: Sebastian Michaelis/CielsCousin!Reader

Characters: Sebastian Michaelis; Reader

Summary: You visit your dear cousins manor in the countryside to get a well deserved break from the humdrum exhaustion of the city after an illness. What you do not expect from your quaint retreat is the start of an exhilarating illicit affair with the butler. But taboos mean nothing when lust love transcends human norm.

Additional Tags: Fluff and Smut; Sex; Vaginal Sex; Eventual Smut; Neck Kissing; Kissing; Gentle Kissing; Surprise Kissing; Making Out; Implied Sexual Content; Phantomhive manor; Reader-Insert; Victorian

A/N: not beta read. We die like men.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 1: 𝔗𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔅𝔲𝔱𝔩𝔢𝔯; ℑ𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔐𝔬𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤

“My lady,” you hear a soft voice calling you, “My lady, you must wake up, it is morning.” You open your eyes. The sheets around you are soft, freshly laundered. Your head sinks into the large white pillow, and you take a deep breath that turns into a yawn and turn over to go back to a more comfortable position. But the voice rings out again. “Now, that won’t do at all...” You twist your neck toward the direction of the voice. The sound in meats your ears like the gentle beat of a raven’s wing. Shielding your eyes because of the bright sunlight streaming in through the windows, you squinted to see a dark black figure stood before the opened curtains around your bed.

Sebastian Michaelis; the imposing shadowy butler of your cousin, Ciel Phantomhive who’s estate you were staying at while you visited the countryside after your illness. This man’s efficiency left you in awe. Managing an entire household with three other servants, an old butler, and a young master who was still very much a child. His roles extended far beyond that of an ordinary butler, to that of baker, chef, driver and even a pseudo parent. Additionally, with his smooth, silky, jet-black hair and contrasting pale skin he looked rather like a vampire – one from the cheap romance novellas you would pick up from the bookstore to keep yourself entertained. You definitely wouldn’t mind him sinking his teeth into your neck. You had been inappropriately lusting after the man ever since he greeted you into the Phantomhive manor. He was gentle and helpful, and you had found yourself yearning for the feel of his hands upon your skin. Sebastian seemed to sense your longing and took it upon himself to torment you with his sly touches at every opportune moment. He took your hand to help you down stairs, tied your shoelace if he thought it wasn’t done up well enough kneeling in front of you, he even lifted you and took you to bed one night when you were feeling especially tired from the day’s activities. You had been mortified to have been treated in such a manner but when he had leaned down and kissed your ear whispering a soft goodnight you exploded on the inside. Ever since then, you had been thinking the lewdest thoughts about the man- who would often catch you staring at his back and would wink at you and laugh when you turned red. And often your fingers would slip between your thighs, to rub over your mound below in an attempt to quell the aching need.

“Your maid seems to have caught a slight cold my lady.” Sebastian speaks drawing you back to the present. He smiles. “I hope you don’t mind me standing in for her this morning. I wouldn’t want you to exert yourself so soon after having recovered from one illness.” His eyes crinkle and he tilts his head while his smile grows wider.

For a moment, you stare at him and then understand the implications of his words. Still not fully awake you muster up the energy to ask, “But, who is to help me with my dressing?”

“I’m pretty sure you will find me capable enough, my lady.” He says, still smiling. You sit up quickly. Heart pounding in your chest.

“Sebastian!” you expel in admonishment “Surely that would not be proper!”

Sebastian prowls over to the the edge of the bed and leaning down, says, “Would it be as improper as this my lady?” He plants those smooth pale lips onto yours. They burn hot against your cool pink ones. You feel his hand caressing your cheek. Your heart beats hard in your chest and you sit rigidly unable to process what is happening around you. Is Sebastian really kissing you? Are his lips truly on yours?

But before you can fully digest what happened, he moves away. “Are you awake now my lady?” he asks. You touch your lips feeling incomplete without his warmth and nod. “Good.” He says. “I want you to be awake for this.” He smoothly takes off his black coat and lays it down on a chair, then his vest, then as he unbuttons his shirt he climbs onto the bed. “Impropriety has been a recurring thought in your mind, has it not my lady?” he says to you. He kneels down in front of you. You feel your heart beat – loud enough for the whole mansion to hear.

“Wh– whatever do you mean, Sebastian?” You feign ignorance, trying to ignore the loud pounding of your heart.

“Don’t be coy my lady.” He smirks, his body almost enveloping you on the bed and playing with the string on the neck of your nightgown. He pulls it – untying the bow that your maid had made the night before. So smooth. His movements flow like a stream of water. Almost inhuman. You look into his eyes knowing that however improper it may be, you wanted the man. You wanted him in the basest way that a human may want a human. He cups your cheek in his hand and you can’t help yourself, you move forward to feel his burning lips against your own once again. He runs his fingers through your soft hair and wraps his arm around your torso pulling you closer. You pull off his already unbuttoned shirt. The heat of his body penetrating your thin nightgown. He presses his body against yours, kissing you, a hunger in his movements like no other you knew. His fingers reach your breast and he kneads it roughly. His tongue seeks entrance at your mouth. You open up readily, moaning softly at his touch. He tastes spicy yet at the same time sweet; it reminds you of chocolate a rare taste for such a rare man. Wanton moans drip from your throat and you just want more and more. Your head feels heavy—intoxicated.

You close your eyes and pull him closer. He’s lean, yet you can feel hard muscle under the skin. Sebastian holds the bottom of your nightgown and looks at you with heavy lidded eyes. “Are you sure about this my lady?” For a moment you think you see them flash a dangerous red but shake it off seeing them their regular brown.

You close your eyes and nod, biting your lower lip. It is what you want. Damn all the restrictions of society. Damn it all. It was your body and here was a man who made it writhe and respond on its own accord – without your control. You wanted him to feel you, touch you, make love to you. And you knew, he would appreciate you to the fullest – you would bloom like a flower beneath his touch.

A/N: This was originally posted on AO3 back in 2017. Since then much time has passed and i wasn't feeling the motivation to continue this series, but now with this resurgence of Kuro I would like to take this series up again. I am posting it here now, with changes made and small edits. Just to make it a better read while still keeping my original story intact. I hope you've enjoyed. As always, Likes and Reblogs are much appreciated and Comments will earn you kisses.

Masterlist

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lujingheswife · 7 months

Text

resonance with the rain.

soulmate au! get the same emotions as your soulmate does when they're experiencing strong emotions (when they’re sad, you’re suddenly sad)

featuring: neuvillette

word count: 2k+

summary: nobody understands the rain as much as you do, for your emotions always synchronise with the downpour in fontaine.

cw: gn!reader, human!reader, hurt/comfort, implied character death, fluff if you squint. dni if: you hate immortal x human :(

author’s notes: i’m a sucker for soulmate au !!!! tried out a human reader this time just for the funsies i guess,,,,, also i made a taglist for my soulmate au series !!! feel free to ask (and which character/all) if you wanna be tagged !!!

in the land of fontaine, there was a story told to the children whenever it rains.

“the hydro dragon once resided in fontaine, and every time it weeps, the skies will cloud up and pour out rain.”

a small legend you heard of as you grew up.

born and raised in fontaine, you had always watched your friends and family spending time with their respective soulmates. you admired how they were able to share their emotions and their burdens with each other. you remembered when you were younger, your father always came home with treats whenever your mother happened to be sad.

you were still a child when you asked him about how he was always there when she was sad, your father replied, “all of us has a soulmate. and you share your strong emotions with them.”

you held your father’s hand as you walked home with him from the groceries. your small grip on his hand tightened as you tried to catch up with his pace.

“i see,” you muttered softly.

you looked up towards the skies above, noticing that the clouds have gathered in one. a strange yet familiar feeling of uneasiness churned in your chest when your face was hit with small droplets of water that begun to grow heavier. everyone around you had started running for shelter; some had their umbrellas opened as an emergency.

you felt your father quickly carrying you up back home to not catch a cold. yet, your gaze never left the grey clouds covering the blue skies. your vision blurred from the tears welling up your eyes and your heart felt like it was being clenched tightly.

“goodness, is there another trial happening today?” you heard a citizen shouting as they ran as fast as they could.

you could no longer take it. you were happy just a second ago with your father, but why were you suddenly sad again on another downpour?

“hydro dragon… hydro dragon…” you choked out as your grip on your father’s wet shirt tightened.

“don’t cry…”

the cycle went on for the next few years growing up. during downpours, your heart becomes swelled with sadness. there were times when your parents tried to cheer you up and when they worked, the rain miraculously stopped as if they had responded to your laughter.

such events made you questioned the nature of rain. it was as if you were meant to resonate with it and vice versa. did the hydro dragon respond to your chant?

you wiped the tears off your cheek as you walked through the streets, the gentle droplets pattering above your head protected by an umbrella. the rain today felt different today, as if it was meant to relief a form of stress that had been piling up recently.

now an adult, you believed that your soulmate definitely had to do with the rain. although it seemed unbelievable at first, it was the only thing that could convince you that your soulmate was probably not human at all.

your countless emotions that always had to do with the downpours in fontaine, and how it always stopped when you felt the utmost joy of the day. and whenever you were sad, the heaviness of the rain would always depend on how sad you would be. when you were mad, the skies become covered in dark grey clouds.

your legs unconsciously dragged themselves to a familiar place you would visit every week. a grassy area by the lake, a cemetery, the place where rain never failed to visit whenever you arrive to meet your parents.

however unlike the usual, there was another person standing in front of a tombstone. the familiar figure was dressed formally in blue, his long white hair with blue highlights which you thought would look lovely in the wind was drenched from the rain that still poured endlessly.

you knew only one person in fontaine would have such appearance.

“monsieur neuvillette,” you called softly. the man in front you turned his head, his gaze fixed upon yours. to him, you were an unfamiliar person— just a mere citizen of fontaine; but to you, he was a powerful man who now leads the region— being the iudex and chief justice no one would dare to defy him.

you had no idea whether he was surprised or not, probably at the sight of your swollen eyes before you had even arrived the cemetery. he gave you a slight bow in return. “my apologies if i’m interrupting your time,” he said.

you shook your head. “it’s alright, monsieur,” you replied. your grip on the umbrella tightened ever so slightly at the sight of his drenched body unprotected in the rain, the feeling in your chest tightened. had he never protect himself from the rain?

the air was filled with silence as you took a few steps towards him before hovering your umbrella over both of you. the rain seemed to have slowed down, only a light drizzle surrounding you and him but you just needed to shield him from it.

how his eyes widened at your merely simple gesture. neuvillette looked away as he placed a hand over his mouth, letting out a small cough. “i apologise,” he muttered, “i don’t know if it makes any sense but, my chest is feeling a little… tight right now.”

oh! oh archons.

“m-my apologies, monsieur! it’s only been our first meeting but i’ve made things awkward between us,” you hastily said.

neuvillette shook his head, his head now turned towards the tombstones in front of him. “don’t worry about it,” he said. he turned his head back to you, his gaze refused to leave yours as he questioned, “i supposed you’re here to pay someone a visit, right?”

you nodded and walked not far from where you were, now standing in front of where your parents were buried. “yes. i visit my parents every week.”

the iudex had unconsciously followed you, now his turn to hold the umbrella above the two of you. he had just realised the bouquet of flowers you had brought with you, placed on the stone that had your parents’ names carved on.

he allowed the silence to take over as he accompanied you throughout the afternoon. he listened to you talk to your parents— talking about how your week has been, how you had tried a new pastry, and much more.

the skies had longed stopped crying, but the grey clouds still lingered around. it was not long until he heard how your words had transitioned to choked sobs as you with heavy heart knelt in front of your parents, hugging your legs as a form of comfort.

neuvillette felt the familiar sense of emotions engulfing him tightly— the sorrow that he felt on this day every week; as if he knew exactly how you were feeling.

he stood there in silence, maintaining his grip on the umbrella. the clouds have cried again, and it was as heavy as it always had been every week. he questioned himself a few times about his sudden change of emotions when he was merely doing his paperwork. when he asked the only person he could ask— navia— for advice, she only asked,

“monsieur neuvillette, perhaps you have a soulmate?”

a soulmate?

he watched her nod in response, perhaps surprised that she was requested just to give advice for the chief justice of fontaine. “you see, we have soulmates— a person we’re destined to be with,” she began, her eyes never leaving the curious iudex which she found entertained, “and when we feel extreme emotions, they have it too. vice versa.”

“i see,” he replied. he took his chin between his fingers as he pondered a little longer, “so the reason i’ve been feeling.. sad, every week for no reason is because of my ‘soulmate’?”

“aha! you get it, monsieur!” she chimed, clapping her hands proudly.

he thanked her one last time before sending her off to the entrance of palais mermonia.

“a soulmate…”

his soulmate was crying again, on this very day.

his gaze was stubborn enough to not want to let go of you. the rain was heavy again, his eyes half opened from the numbness of his soulmate’s emotions, yet his shaky grip continued holding onto the umbrella protecting both him and the crying person he had just met.

the hydro dragon sovereign never needed an umbrella, but he was doing it for you. he needed to do it for you.

“monsieur,” you whispered, loud enough for him to hear, “have you heard of soulmates?”

his eyes widened ever so slightly at the term he had been interested in for a long time. “yes, i have,” he replied.

a pause of silence filled the air, only the sound of patters from the sky remained.

“sometimes i wonder if my soulmate is the hydro dragon,” you added. neuvillette paused, thinking again of what you had just said earlier.

you sniffed, “since i was little, my sad emotions have always been to do with the rain. whenever i’m sad, the skies cry with me; whenever the skies are sad, i cry with them.

“the cycles goes on… ever since my parents passed away, the skies accompany me to cry with them every morning. it was as if… i could understand the rain.”

he watched as you stand up as you walked with him out of the cemetery. he watched your figure leaving the protection of the umbrella, your clothes drenched in the rain as you looked up to the sky.

“hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don’t cry.”

the rain got heavier at your words. your swollen eyes allowed more tears to escape as they mix themselves with the raindrops on your face.

oh, what should he do?

his soulmate is human.

a shaky breath escaped neuvillette’s lips.

he unconsciously stepped forward and took your hand gently in his, ignoring the surprised gasp from you. his figure was faced opposite yours, facing you as he slowly clasped the umbrella with your hands. his hand never left yours, allowing it to protect the shaky hand gripping on the umbrella.

“allow me to be selfish for once,” he muttered softly, “for i do not wish you to catch a cold.”

knowing how he should be protecting his identity as the hydro dragon sovereign, he instead decided to use his powers to keep you dry. a flick of his free hand and he created a barrier for you to stay dry from the downpour.

“monsieur neuvillette, what is this— oh…”

realisation struck upon you.

how the unique eyes that resembled a dragon’s on the iudex.

how he did not seem to be affected by the heaviness of the rain.

how he had just used his powers on you, but he did not wield a vision.

“i apologise for the late introduction, and only realising it today,” neuvillette breathed. before he continued his sentence, he felt his newfound soulmate closing the gap between you and him as you clashed your figure against his, sharing the warmth between you and him. the grips on your umbrella was released as it fell onto the ground unattended.

a pair of arms wrapped around his torso and a pair of arms wrapped around yours. it was a tight embrace, and their first embrace.

no sounds whatsoever, but he felt the joy sprouting within his heart. and he believed you felt the same too.

for the skies have cleared up slowly, leaving the light illuminating the land of fontaine.

“i’ve kept you waited long enough, haven’t i?” he whispered. he felt your arms wrapped around his torso tightened. his hand reached up to caress your hair, unconsciously resting his head on your shoulder.

“my dear soulmate.”

oh, what should he do?

his soulmate is human.

but you are still his soulmate… would it hurt to give this a try?

oh, what should you do?

your soulmate is not human.

but you could never be complete without meeting your soulmate, could you?

the anemo archon sent you the wind as a congratulatory gift.

the skies were illuminated with a rainbow.

there you were, not letting go of your soulmate's hand, who happened to be the iudex of fontaine. you found your soulmate.

now, what will the future bring ahead of you?

soulmate au! series taglist: @esthelily

#genshin x reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette imagine #neuvillette #neuvillette x you #neuvillette x y/n #genshin impact x reader

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starkwlkr · 1 year

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Could you please do a ruby/baby leclerc imagine where she's a bit older and Charles being the overprotective dad, tells her she can't wear that and she has to change, and they fall out and then make up again

teen angst | charles leclerc

give my girl ruby a break, charles!! and for this, ruby is aged up to 18 and mathéo is 14 so double the teen angst for charles 😳 also sorry charles, you’re sticking with ferrari in this one until idk

Charles was looking for his family. He had even called Y/n, but she didn’t answer. He was getting frustrated, but all his worries left when he saw his wife of many years walk into the Ferrari garage with their two kids by her side. Even after all this time, he felt like a teenager in love with her.

“I was beginning to think you forgot about me.” Charles teased, giving his wife a kiss on the lips to greet her.

“I would never.” Y/n smiled at her husband. “We’re going to go see Pierre for a bit before the race begins. Ruby wants to wish him good luck.”

“Where is my good luck— wait, what are you wearing, Ruby Jules?” Charles looked at his daughter’s outfit. She had a black skirt and a cropped shirt.

“I found it in maman’s closet. She said she wore it on a first date.” Ruby said.

“No, I remember what she wore on our first date and it wasn’t that. We went to her favorite restaurant and she wore a black dress.” Charles confirmed.

“I said she wore it for a first date, papa, i didn’t mean yours.” Ruby teased and kissed her father’s cheek. “Bye, I’m going to see uncle Pierre. Good luck, old man.” Then she left in search of the Frenchman.

“Can I go see uncle Daniel?” Mathéo eagerly asked.

“In a second, baby. Your papa looks like he’s about to faint. What’s wrong, Charles?” Y/n asked.

“Y/n, did you not tell her to change?” Charles sighed. “I have a jacket in my drivers room, let me go get it.”

Before Charles could leave, Y/n stopped him. “Charles, it’s hot today and you’re going to make her wear a jacket? She looks nice.”

“I think she still looks ugly.” Mathéo added.

“Théo, what did i tell you about making fun of your sister?”

“She’s not here so it doesn’t count!”

Charles shook his head. “What if I give her a Ferrari shirt? I think I have one—“

“No one is changing. Charles, just accept that our little girl is growing up and her style is changing. She’s not going to wear shirts with rainbows on them anymore.” Y/n tried to get her husband to understand, but he still wasn’t convinced.

“I’m still not happy about it.” He mumbled.

“I know.”

As the Monaco national anthem played while Charles stood on the podium, he kept a close eye on his little girl, even if she was considered an adult in most countries. Ruby could tell he was mad about the outfit, but she didn’t see any problem with it. If her mother wore it years ago, why couldn’t she?

“I’ll be in dad’s driver’s room. Maybe he can actually celebrate without babysitting me from the podium.” Ruby rolled her eyes. She kissed her mother’s cheek and excused herself from the people around her.

Charles’ eyes still followed her until she was out of sight. He then mumbled a ‘what?’ to his wife wondering why Ruby had left even though the ceremony wasn’t done yet. His wife just shook her head.

Shit he thought to himself.

After the ceremony, he only had one person on his mind. His Ruby Jules.

“Go talk to her, she’s upset. She’s in your drivers room. Y/n said.

“Now can we go see uncle Daniel?” Mathéo asked for the millionth time.

Charles made his way to his drivers room, occasionally thanking people who congratulated him on his win. When he stood infront of the door to his room, he knocked them waited a couple seconds.

“Mon chéri? It’s papa. Can I come in?”

“It’s your room, dad.” Ruby said softly.

Charles turned the doorknob and opened the door. He found Ruby seated on the tiny sofa on her phone. “I saw you left before the could spray you with the champagne.” He tried to lighten up the mood.

“I’ve seen you do it many times.” Ruby mumbled.

Charles stayed silent for a bit since he didn’t really know how to even speak to her without making her upset. He didn’t remember himself being this difficult to talk to when he was a teen, or was he? He was definitely going to ask him mother about it later.

“I know you don’t like my outfit. But I like it and maman likes it too. These are hers after all.” Ruby spoke, breaking the silence between them.

“Your maman and I had a talk and I have to accept that you’re growing up. But you’re my Ruby Jules, my little girl. You know when you were small, you would always ask for ice cream at every race. . . Do you still want to get ice cream?” Charles asked the teen.

Ruby cracked a smile. Of course she remembered always asking for ice cream. That was her thing. “I do. But are you really mad about my outfit?”

“Furious? No, but you are growing up and you’re not going to wear rainbow shirts or princess fairy dresses anymore so if you like to dress like this then I say you look pretty.” Charles nodded.

“Princess fairy dresses,” Ruby chuckled. “For my nineteenth birthday, I say we bring back the princess fairy theme. I miss it.”

#formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc one shot #cl16 x reader #ferrari #dad!charles leclerc #baby leclerc series #charles leclerc imagine

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nanawritesit · 2 years

Text

Obey Me! Demon Brothers: How They Would React to Walking in on You Changing (18+, MDNI)

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, and Belphegor

TW: Some horny ass demons, making out, groping

A/N: No one requested this but I’ve been seeing a lot of tiktoks doing this trend so I started thinking ab how the boys would react 😂 This isn’t anything too explicit but it’s still suggestive so I marked it as NSFW, but as long as you’re an adult, enjoy!

——————

Lucifer:

“MC come downstairs, it’s time for breakfa-“ he stopped dead in his tracks, lips slightly parted.

You blushed and covered yourself with the shirt you were holding, to which he chuckled and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Ah I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were already awake. I’ll knock in the future.” he turned on his heel to leave.

“L-Lucifer?” you asked, stepping forward expectedly.

He looked over his shoulder at you with his hand on the doorknob. “Don’t worry my little human, you’ll get my attention again after school. If you do well on your exam maybe I’ll give you a reward. And if you don’t, well… you’ll have to be punished for getting me so worked up just now. It’s your choice.”

He smirked before motioning for you to walk out behind him. You threw on your uniform quickly and scuttled out after him.

Mammon:

He barged into your room without warning all the time, it never dawned on him that he might walk in on you half naked

He was absolutely frozen, eyes wide and mouth hung agape, not being able to take his eyes off your body.

“Do you need something Mammon?” you asked nonchalantly, unfolding the shirt you were holding.

He shook his head, his cheeks heating up in embarrassment. “N-no, I just-“ He ran his hand through his hair, looking for the right words to say. Finally he met your eyes, bringing him back to reality. “What are ya doin stripping with your door unlocked? What if one of the other guys came in? You’re lucky it was me who-“

You cut him off with a kiss, curving your body into his. He was surprised at first, but then kissed you back, hands roaming all over your body. He reached behind him and locked your door. “I guess we’re gonna be late for dinner today hm?”

Leviathan:

He immediately squealed and slapped his hands over his eyes, face turning as red as a tomato. “Ah, I’m so sorry! I should’ve knocked!”

He turned around to leave, forgetting that the door was shut behind him. He slammed his body straight into the door and fell to the ground, hands still covering his eyes.

He groaned and rolled over, crawling over to you before bowing flat against the ground. “I invaded your privacy, please forgive me!”

You chuckled as you finished buttoning up your blouse. “Levi honey, I finished getting dressed while you were wallowing.”

He peeked his head up, glossy eyes scanning over your body. He laughed before standing up, brushing himself off awkwardly. He shifted from side to side, desperately trying to downplay the tent that was growing in his pants.

“Well, that’s a relief, I guess I- Ah!” he squealed as you flipped him around and threw him down on your bed, crawling overtop of him.

“You pervert, you think I’m just gonna let this go unpunished?” you asked, inches away from his face. He smirked before kissing you, kind of glad that he had embarrassed himself.

Satan:

He just chuckled and leaned back against the door, putting his hands on his hips.

“Satan! I’m literally half naked!” you cried, throwing a blanket over your body.

“Oh don’t mind me.” he smirked, shaking his hand out in front of him. “Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

You blushed with a dropped jaw, then shook your head and laughed at how ridiculous the situation was. “Okay you cannot just walk in here and-“

“Can’t I?” be challenged, taking slow strides over to you. He stopped only a few inches in front of your face, leaning in dangerously close. “You are my human, after all. Am I not entitled to do with you as I please?”

You stuttered for a second, then caught onto his plan. You smiled at the ground for a moment before looking up at him with dark eyes. “Don’t forget that you’re also my demon. You have to obey my every command, don’t you?”

“Oh I’m looking forward to it, my dear.” he chuckled, snaking his arms up around your waist. His skin was hot, burning with desire as his eyes pierced into you harshly. “Will you give me a command, master?”

Asmodeus:

He didn’t look phased at all, simply shutting the door behind him and entering your room like usual.

“MC what lip gloss should I wear today?” be asked, holding out both products in front of him.

“Asmo, what are you doing, I’m changing in here!” you yelled, desperately trying to cover yourself with the clothing laid out in front of you.

“Stop screaming, I’m trying to ask you a question!” he giggled, flipping his hair out of his face. “You’re the one making this questionable, you naughty little thing.”

“Please, look away so I can get dressed.” you pleaded, squinting your eyes in embarrassment.

“Awh, are you getting shy?” he teased. “There’s no need to be embarrassed MC, I’ve seen much more of you than this before! But I’ll leave you alone.” he chuckled before leaving your room. You were definitely going to get him back for this later.

Beelzebub:

He stopped mid-step, looking at you with a blank expression as the door swung shut behind him. His poker face was strong as his eyes scanned over your body.

“Something wrong Beel?” you smirked, slinging your blouse up over your shoulders and pushing your hair back.

“No not at all,” he chuckled as he finally moved, shifting his weight and rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “You’re just…. really hot.”

You giggled before walking over to him, blouse still unbuttoned to reveal your chest. You put your arms up around his neck and looked up at him cheekily. “Well so are you babe. It was quite naughty of you to walk in on me like this though.”

“What are you gonna do about it huh?” he questioned, forehead pressed against yours as he rocked you in his arms. He had on the biggest shit-eating grin as you yanked him down to kiss him, gripping onto his orange locks tightly. He was in for a long night now.

Belphegor:

He was half asleep when he wandered into your room, eyes squinted as he ruffled his hair.

“Belphie, you can’t just-“ you began, but he cut you off by placing his index finger to your lips.

“Lucifer wants you to come downstairs for a meeting.” he grumbled, groggily smacking his lips together before he turned around to leave. You gaped at the back of his head, baffled as he shut the door behind him and left.

It didn’t hit him until he was halfway down the hallway. When he realized that you were half naked just now, a light pink blush sprinkled across his cheeks. He immediately sprinted back to your room, bursting through the door to see you laying out on your bed, still half dressed. You jumped once again at the intrusion, scrambling to cover yourself with your blankets.

“You were changing!” he declared, arms stretched out in front of him in shock. You nodded frantically as if to say ‘um, duh!’ All the expression drained from his face as his eyes scanned over your body. “You’re still changing…”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how dumb your demon was, letting your guard down a bit and throwing the blanket off of you. You held out your arms to him as an invitation.

He smirked before hopping in bed with you, kissing you passionately as his hands raked over your body. “This is one way to wake me up.”

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nekropsii · 2 months

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Do you have any thoughts on Equius

Equius is a fucked up kid who has done a lot wrong, but he is still a kid. He reads as a startlingly real portrayal of a pubescent autistic boy with an unhealthy and shaky grasp of his budding, overwhelming sexuality, with a concerning amount of influence from the internet. He is the result of adults failing him, and exposing him to hardcore fetish porn at an age too early. This is a real kind of guy that exists. A very common one, who I have met, like, at least 40 of.

Like Eridan, he feels like a kid stuck in a pipeline — except instead of the alt-right pipeline, it’s fetishism and hypersexuality. He feels like a pretty solid example of how getting involved in NSFW spaces online as a child can both deeply fuck up your sexuality and completely destroy your perception of what consent is, and what is and is not okay. He doesn’t have a grasp on boundaries whatsoever, and while this manifests in ways that are quite honestly horrifying and uncomfortable — like constantly projecting his Caste-Play BDSM fetishes onto nonconsenting, unsuspecting individuals, and… The things he did to Aradia — I cannot help but view him as an autistic boy having a rough time of puberty who got groomed through the internet over-exposing him to pornography at an early age. He’s deeply sympathetic to me from that angle. Again, I have met this kid. Homestuck is fantastic at presenting characters that are exact archetypes of real people you have known, be it personally or not. People you would have either been close friends with in middle school, or terrorized by in a random chat room on the internet. Maybe they were even you! There’s a complete nonzero chance someone is reading this who has played the role of Equius in their youth, who is totally fine and healthy now. And if that’s true, and this describes you… I’m proud of your growth!

Back to Analysis- His ardent Hemoloyalty is fascinating, also. I’ve written about this before, but there’s something compelling and very realistic about how his bigotry comes from a place of deep insecurity, rather than pride. I find bigotry coming from insecurity to be more common than it coming from overt pride. Many fictional bigots have such a genuine ego to them, a fine layer of paint labeled Badassery, when for the most part real life bigots are total losers with nothing better to do than worry about… Where someone was born, or how much melanin they have, or what’s in their pants, or whatever.

I get why people don’t tend to be fond of him, but the disquieting parts of his character are both very deliberate choices and also shockingly… Earnest, in a weird, Hussian fashion. I’ve never quite seen a character with his traits get portrayed before. He’s easy to work with, analytically speaking, you just have to be willing to stick your hands in the uncomfortable muck that is messy teenage sexuality. Many aren’t willing to, which is fair! But many also mislabel his uncomfortable traits as not intentionally uncomfortable, or simply a product of Hussie being weird and wrong and having bad opinions. This… Just blatantly isn’t the case. Sometimes fiction isn’t comfortable on purpose. Big whoop.

I think Equius could’ve been quite a fine person, had he been given the room to grow up. He’s like Jake to me in the sense that he’s one of the only characters I genuinely wouldn’t mind seeing expanded upon more, provided he be taken seriously, and not completely sanded down.

Alas.

#homestuck #homestuck meta #homestuck analysis #equius zahhak #cw child harm #equius.pdf #nekro.sms

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brilium · 7 months

Text

❥ K I N K T O B E R 2 0 2 3

Masterlist

➽──────────❥

❥ DAY 23. Costumes! with Eren Jaeger

Summary. Jean is throwing a halloween party that you and your best friend Eren are planning to go, but things seem to take other way when Eren helps you to tie up the corset for your pirate costume and you tease him for only buying a not so simple Ghost Face mask.

Content Warning. Fem! reader, no use of Y/N, all characters are adults, smut, vaginal sex, overstimulation, choking, small degrading, fingering, thigh (knee?) riding, dacryphilia, breeding. No proof read, might edit later.

Word count. 2,745

MINORS OR AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT !!

“Eren— Fuck! B–Be more gentle!” You say in a strangled whine as you try to hold the bath counter with a strong grip.

“I–I’m trying but—” He sighs, biting his lip as the veins on his arms start to pump up thanks to how hard he’s holding while the other holds your stomach firmly to keep you straight. “K–Keep like that for me, ‘kay? I’m almost done with you.” He groans, using all his strength to not let you escape the painful air in your lungs.

You nod, struggling to breath as you shut your eyes hardly while he finishes behind you and you finally let your chest release all the suffering.

“It 's done. The damn corset is tied up, is that okay?”

Eren steps backwards a bit to let you see your reflection on the mirror and see the finished look of your pirate costume. You smile widely, looking at every angle of how well the corset fits you and you turn at him making small jumps on your spot.

“Absolutely! What do you think? Am I a intimidant pirate?”

Eren looks up after massaging his sore forearms, finding the front view of all his work tying the corset behind you: Your breasts look so fucking good pressed against each other and sneaking out slightly through the collar of your buttoned white shirt, and he’s not letting slip how also your skirt lifted a little, again, thanks to the hold of the corset.

He uses all his strength to not jump over you and rip all your clothes to only leave you in that corset to fuck you like a beast and just nods biting his lip as his eyes try to focus on the bath wall behind you.

“Eren! Look at me in the eyes and tell me if my costume is good! C’mon, I didn’t want to spend a fortune on a costume for only one night” You hit his arm playfully, and he snorted softly, looking everywhere but at you.

“Oh, you say that now? After how you joked about me by just coming with a Ghost Face mask?” He teases, walking out of the bathroom and lying in your bed and distracting his brain with all the lines on the ceiling to not let his hard crotch keep growing.

“At least you’ve could came with that kind of robe that he uses” You say, giggling as you sit beside him and play with the loose hairs on his forehead.

“Yeah, when I asked my mom if she could lend me one of her dresses for a party at Jean’s house you should've seen how her eyes almost went white.”

You laugh audibly, sending shivers through your best friend’s spine,

Eren's plan was just to take a few drinks in your apartment before driving you both to Jean’s halloween party. That was the plan until he arrived and the first thing that you said was “Can you help me to tie up my corset?”

His brain is fully trying to focus on your words, on your talk about how your week went or something about a grumpy lady on the market. But his body acts against his will when his hand flies to your nap and brings your face down for a kiss.

You whimper at the contact of his lips, staying still at the first contact, but slowly melting into his lips as he starts to suck on your lips with a softness that makes you sigh against his lisp when you start to move yours.

Eren is ruining the gloss that you carefully applied on your lips while his hand on your nap makes a mess on your hair that you spend hours to let it dry and comb it to look nice. His heavy sighs and cologne are also having and effect on your body that is going to ruin all yourself if you let him keep going.

“Eren—” He shakes his head when you pull back, pushing your head down again to slam his lips on yours, making you whine softly against his lips even if you’re enjoying his taste. “Eren!”

You pull back with more strength, trying to straight above him while you support your hands on his chest to look at him all blushed and with dilated pupils.

Fuck, he looks hot. So damn hot.

But he’s your best friend.

“We should stop, Eren” You say, breathless and feeling your heart sink in your chest as you can’t look away from him, even if your phone is ringing on your nightstand. “We’re best friends, I— I’ll can’t see you the same if we keep going.”

Eren shrugs, not breaking the contact on your nap and starting to caress your neck with his fingers, sending tickles along your spine.

“Won't you see me the same way?” You nod, trembling above him. He thinks about it a little and sighs, looking up at the pillows and extending his arm to grab his mask, resting near to them. “And if I cover my face?”

You frown, looking at him with confusement. He surprised you by moving his hands to your waist and push you to the bed to lie on your back while he gets on his knees above you, straddling above you with his knees on the sides of your thighs and lifts his shirt above his head to take it off and show you his toned chest.

You swallow your saliva, feeling how your heartbeat starts to fasten while you see how his pectorals go up and down heavily.

“Fuck— Your tits look so much better with this position. I hope that this shit will let me keep seeing you clearly.” Eren groans while he puts on the mask to just let you see the iconic face of Ghost Face but with the difference that his body is the muscular body of Eren that you’ve seen a lot of times.

Especially, the detail that can’t let you forget who it is is his necklace. He never takes off that necklace of a key that he never takes off, even if his father who he hates gave it to him.

But God, he looks so good like that.

Your core starts to get more soaked picturing the image of his necklace dangling above your face as he pounds on you.

Eren bends over you putting his hands on the sides of your head to look at you face to face— Or well, mask. You can hear his hard breathing through the plastic of the mask, but you're unsure of why only being able to look at that weird face makes you hornier.

“Is this better?” His voice sounds deeper through the echo, hypnotizing you with every word.

You nod desperately, bringing your hands to his chest to caress it up and down, passing softly the tip of your nails along his skin and receiving a sweet groan from him when you scratch it softly near to his hip bone.

“Can I be a little rougher?”

You nod, holding firmly his hips with your nails as his hands start to travel from your neck to your shoulders and resting on your breasts, giving them small squeezes.

Fuck Jean’s party, you can even let Eren rip your mattress in half if it means to keep hearing his deep voice asking how much can he ruin you.

He makes you jump slightly on your spot when he grabs the sides of your white shirt and pulls at opposite sides to rip in in two halves that he tosses to the floor. You whine in response, looking down at the small pieces that remain on your chest that barely cover your clothes breasts with your bra.

Eren’s hands slide down to your back, giving you chills as his hands unclip your bra and you let him slide it along your arms to take it off and throw it somewhere.

“You shouldn't have helped me to put on the corset if you were planning to have me naked.” You smirk, trying to hold your moans when his hands go to your bare breasts and make you sigh in pleasure at the sensation of his cold rings against your skin.

“Oh no, Dear.” Eren smirks, moving a little his knee to be between your legs and rub it against your clothed cunt, breaking your hold to make you whimper as he keeps going, “The only thing staying in you is that fucking corset.”

Eren laughs softly when you start to bring your hips back and forth against his knee for more, moaning softly as he stops squeezing one of your tits to move it along your thigh and rub your skin up and down, enjoying how you squirm harder every time that his cold rings touch a little too close to your core.

“So whiny, so needy.” Eren groans, rubbing his knee harder against your folds, opening them slightly under the underwear and feeling the start of his thigh rubbing on your clit so softly but perfectly. “It could be that it turns you on so bad to be touched by a masked man? Fuck— You’re so horny that you’re even going to make a mess on my jeans and I’ve barely touched you.”

You bite your hand to hold your moan when his leg finds the right peace, making your body tremble as you squeeze your breast between your fingers as he keeps going.

“Mo–More— Please, Eren. More, ruin me more.”

Eren snorts behind the mask, bending closer and rubbing harder against you, getting your moans louder inside the four walls of your bedroom. He lets go of your breast to hold your jaw firmly to make you look at his masked face as he leans his head to the side looking at your blushed face.

“Yeah? Do you want me to be rude?” His voice is husky, you can notice how needy is also him.

“Yes—! Fuck, yes!” You plea, rubbing harder your core against him as you start to ride the warmth of your pleasure about to explode. “M–More!”

He laughs deeply before moving his hand to your neck and squeezes it with a strength that still lets you breathe with struggle as he moves back and forth against you until your hips get messier against him.

You’ve tried choking before, but never has turned you on as hard as this time, Eren’s necklace swings side to side while he keeps moving between your legs until your tears start to sneak out from the bordered of your eyes as your view gets blurrier between the water and his strong hold on your throat.

“You’re about cum, slut. I can feel it in the fucking mess that you’re making in my knee. Fuck—” Eren groans, breathing heavy while your moans fill his ears “Cum, cum like a good slut for me!”

You start to struggle to breathe as the orgasm hits you, letting out strangled moans as you sob his name while your hips shake and rub against him when you feel your folds creaming over your underwear and trespassing to his jeans.

You tremble and shake, still moving your hips against him to ride the orgasm as long as you can while his hold on your neck softens as he watches you trying to calm with your lips half opened and how your tits tremble softly as you breathe heavily.

Eren lets go of your neck to let you relax while you try to regain composure while he takes off his jeans standing at the edge of the bed. He waits for you to calm and surprise you again by holding your hips and pulling you closer to him.

You giggle when he pulls you, feeling like a doll every time that he moves you as he wants, but your laugh stops as soon as you see him naked in front of you and only wearing his mask.

Ok, now you understand a bit why he is so insistent on keeping on the corset.

Feeling like he just read your mind, he pulls down your skirt along with your underwear and tosses it to the floor. He grabs the behind of your knees to lift them and put your ankles on his shoulders.

You’re so exposed that it makes your cunt drip in need, even if there’s still one piece of cloth on your body it feels like you’re fully naked.

“You look so hot.” His hand stops holding your ankle to rub two of his fingers up and down along your wet folds and makes you moan softly as you soak around his fingers. “Fuck— I’ve could tried everything, everything, just to not let anyone at that party see how hot you look with that corset.”

Your hips tremble everytime that his fingers tease you by pushing the half inside and pulling out to spread your fluids around your folds and clit. You want him, you want more than only his fingers.

“Eren… Just fuck me, please—” You moan loudly when his fingers get fully inside without resistance, clenching around him immediately and making you squirm on the bed, trying to hold the sheets between your fists.

“Should I?” His fingers curl, touching your sweet spot and making you roll your eyes, but you hold your insides to not let the orgasm hit you until you feel that aching cock filling you. “Why should I risk the image that my best friend has of me? Is it worth the risk?”

You hate him, you hate him so bad. As bad as you need him.

“Eren! Please, I was stupid, just fuck me, please!” You cry, feeling his fingers fasten his peace and the knot of your orgasm getting softer.

Eren pulls out his fingers and hits you insides with his cock with one stroke that fills you with barely pain due to your dripping walls. He feels so good inside: so hard and thick that your eyes start to tear up again.

He holds your legs on his shoulders with his hands to keep you all spreaded as he pounds fiercely inside you until his tip again finds the spongy spot that makes you squeeze him harder and starts to slam against it in a non-stop peace.

Your vision goes blurry, but you’re still able to see his mask glaring at you and turns your moans louder at the view of his necklace doing the opposite to what you expected, his almost glued to his chest with his sweat and it feels so much better than what you imagined.

For Eren, the view of your tits bouncing above the corset is gorgeous, they look so soft and bouncy, he would suck them until they’re all bruised if it wasn’t for his mask.

You both start to moan louder as the orgasm gets near, and you can’t keep holding when your cunt squeezes around his length with the second sweet orgasm that covers all your body as you cover him with your fluids. Eren keeps pounding with struggle through your strong grip on his cock, but at the same time helps him to ride his orgasm with your pussy milking him with every thrust and loud groans.

Eren keeps hitting a few times as his cum fills your cunt until it’s dripping on the sides of his base and he pulls back slowly to let all his weight fall over you, making you cough and hit his sweaty shoulder.

You’re both sticky with sweat and cum, but comfortable.

“You’re too heavy.” You protest, pinching his arm.

“You’re too noisy.” He snorts, taking off his mask and throwing it to the floor to look up at you.

His forehead is sweaty and his hairs are glued to his face, the view makes you laugh softly as you clean him with the back of your hand.

“Yeah, clean it. I’m all sweaty on the forehead because someone was saying that ‘She couldn’t look at me the same’” He makes a lame high pitched imitation of your voice and you blush, hitting his forehead softly.

“Shut up! I’m also almost dying of asphyxia with how tight you tied this corset.”

“But your tits are so soft and squishy, just like a pillow” He says, rubbing his cheek on your breasts and making you laugh.

But, still, you both enjoy the moment.

Maybe trying to turning things a little different might be good.

@softlilpeachxx

#kinktober 2023 #kinktober #brilium #aot smut #snk smut #attack on titan smut #eren smut #eren x reader #eren yaeger imagine #eren yaeger x reader #eren yaeger smut #eren jeager x reader #eren jeager smut #eren jeager x y/n #shingeki no kyojin smut #attack on titan x reader

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notyetneedcoffee · 8 months

Text

Yes, Ma'am

Kinktober - Roll Playing NSFW - Adults only

Summary: You surprise Steve and he's happy to play along

“I’m fine, Honey. I swear.” Steve did his best to smile.

“The doctor said you were supposed to take it easy, and instead your at your desk doing reports.” You frowned.

“This is taking it easy.” He frowned back. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“Anyone else would still be in intensive care. The least you can do is take the day off.”

“I’m fine, Honey.” He repeated.

You stared for a moment longer. Steve Rogers could be one of the most stubborn men on the planet. Fine. You had another idea.

A while later you stepped into his home office again. “Captain Rogers?”

“Sweethe…” The word trailed off when he looked up to see you standing in the doorway wearing a nurse’s uniform. Not just any nurse's uniform. It was a sexed-up version of a 1940’s Army nurse’s uniform. You’d swept your hair up into victory curls. A lace bra peeked out from under a too-tight, too-short jacket. The skirt was impossibly high, showing off the tops of tan stockings. You posed on high heels, holding clipboard and pen.

“Captain Rogers?” You said again. “I’ve been assigned to take care of you.”

Steve muttered your name. Pink touched his cheeks.

“Captain. No arguments. I have my assignment and I will not take any guff from you.” You frowned, leveling your pen at him.

“Yes, ma’am.” A slow smile spread across his face. “That’s good, Nurse. I don’t think I could manage on my own.”

“Then we better get you to bed.” You set down your clipboard and took his arm, as if to lead an invalid. “Now, why don’t you tell me exactly what needs attention.”

“Hmm.” He stopped beside the bed. Steve stared down at you with hunger. His lip traced over his lower lip as he appeared to consider his response. “I have this ache.”

You gave him a fake, innocent look. “Show me.”

He cupped his growing cock. “Down here.”

“Oh, no. Captain Rogers, that could be serious. Better let me see.” You lowered carefully to your knees. Running your hands up his thighs, feeling his muscles under the soft fabric of his sweatpants. You stroked his clothed cock. He moaned. You tsked playfully. “Doesn’t sound good. I need to take a closer look.”

You pulled at his sweatpants, lowering them over his hips. Steve’s cock stood proud before you. He threw his t-shirt aside and watched you while clenching his hands. You touched him, stroking the silky skin over his steel shaft.

“Does it ache here?” You kiss the base of his cock. Steve hummed. “Or here?” You circled the head of his cock with your tongue.

Steve’s hand came up and cupped your jaw but didn’t muss your hair. His hips rocked, urging you to take him deeper.

You could feel the way Steve battled to keep control. It sent a thrill through you to feel his thighs tighten and his fingers hesitate. Normally so willing to manhandle you to where he wanted you, you knew your outfit affected him.

Pulling away from him with a suctioned pop, you gave him a final lick. Steve whined. Actually, whined. You stood, slowing, stroking his length. “Captain, I think I know exactly what you need.”

Steve slowly unbuttoned your top. He traced his fingers over the edge of the lace bra. “You have what can make me feel better?”

“Mm-hmm” You squeezed his cock harder and ran a hand over his broad chest. His eyes nearly closed. “Let me check my medical bag.”

You turned away from him and bent at the waist to reach for the small case on the floor. Steve groaned as he got the full view up your little short skirt. Stockings and no panties. His fingers slipped over your sex, spreading moisture and making you shiver.

“I know I put it here somewhere.” You breathed, excitement building.

Steve watched your hips rock as you shifted your weight. You moaned as his fingers delved into your depths. His voice came out low and rough. “Better be sure you find the right medicine for me.”

“Yes, Captain.” You panted.

“Maybe I should help.”

You felt the head of his cock slide against your entrance. When had you lost control of this scenario? Steve pushed in, stretching, filling you. You grabbed the edge of the bed to steady yourself, moaning. “Fuck.”

“Yes.” He moved in and out, hands digging into your hips, moving faster. “Just what I need.”

“Steve.”

He pulled you tight to him, arching your back and cupping your breast. “You know, nurse, I think it might be me that has the right medicine for you.”

“Yes, Captain.” You panted.

Steve thrust into you, moaning. He let you fall forward. “Need this?” He moved fast, hard. “Need me to fill you up?”

“Yes, Captain!” Your thighs began to quiver. “Please!” Steve lifted your leg onto the bed, changing your angle, his access. His cock hit deep. Your legs nearly gave way. He held your firm. Moaning and cussing, you felt your body tighten and shake.

“So fucking good,” Steve groaned. “That’s it, babydoll, let go.”

You keened, shaking as the warmth spread and washed over you.

“Oh, yes.” Steve moaned. “That’s it. Yes!” His grip tightened. He pushed deeper and came hard.

As your legs shook and breath slowly returned to normal, Steve stood you upright on your high heels. He reached down and ran his fingers through the mess between your legs. A grin spread across his face.

“Hmm. I think it worked, nurse. I feel so much better.”

Want more? Check out my Master List.

#Kinktober #Steve Rogers smut #Steve Rogers x reader #Steve Rogers fic #Steve Rogers fanfic

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mrwavellswaps · 8 months

Text

Appreciating it

(Something a little different to my usual stuff but I hope the gay to straight fans out there enjoy it 🙌)

It’d been a week now and Liam still couldn’t come to terms with what had happened. He always had a feeling that his younger brother Jack was jealous of him but he never could’ve imagined it would go as far as this.

Throughout their entire lives growing up, Jack had indeed been jealous. At first it was just because Liam was always bigger than him and as they grew into adults it was because Liam simply looked manlier than he did. Always able to grow a better beard and more body hair. Always being seen as more handsome. So much so that Liam was always getting attention from women left, right and centre while Jack got next to none. But the thing that really pushed Jack over the edge was when Liam came out as gay! He had all that manliness to attract the kinds of chicks Jack could only dream of pulling and Liam wasn’t even interested in them!

Somehow Jack had managed to get his hands on this strange amulet and one morning as Liam got up to make breakfast Jack used the amulet to switch their bodies! In an instant Liam found himself in his younger brother's small skinny body while Jack now owned his older bro’s bigger, stronger and hairier body instead. Immediately Liam began to freak out at the situation but Jack simply grinned, happy that his plan had been a success.

“Sorry bro but this body and its potential was being wasted on a homo like you.” He claimed before flexing his biceps a little and admiring his chest hair. “You had all those hot chicks nipping at your heels and all you wanted to do was fuck other dudes when you coulda been fucking soooo much pussy.” Jack berated, clearly irritated by how Liam had been living Jack’s dream yet wasn’t at all interested in it. “Homo’s like you do not deserve strong manly bodies like this. They should be used by real men like me. Straight men who appreciate what it was meant for. Plowing pussy!” He smirked victoriously while crossing his arms over his new hairy chest.

Naturally Liam argued against this, calling his brother insane for what he’d done and what he was saying. Screaming at him that it was wrong. He even tried to reactivate the amulet that Jack had used to swap them but it was one time use and was all out of juice. Despite this Liam continued to shout and berate his younger brother about what he’d done and why he’d done it, saying they had to find a way to switch back. But Jack was having none of it.

In one swift movement Jack pinned Liam against the wall with his new strength and sneered. “Look. This isn’t your body anymore bitch. It’s mine. And in a minute I’m gonna get your friend Veronica to come down. I know she’s had a crush on you for a while. Huge fucking tits that you never appreciated. But don’t worry I’ll be using your hands to grab them and that fat ass of hers by the end of the night.” A sinister grin spread across his face as he imagined it. “And if you even think of telling her about the swap, I’ll go right back to the place I got that amulet from and get something that’ll guarantee you won’t be a problem again.” He threatened ominously.

Later that day Veronica indeed showed up after a quick phone call and Liam had to bite his tongue as he watched Jack with her. Using his stolen body to slide closer to her. Eventually telling her that he didn’t think he was gay after all and wanted to explore a little. Liam had been praying Veronica wouldn’t go for it but to his horror he soon watched as his own stolen body began making out with her. Even cringing as he watched his former cock start to get hard as the kiss deepened. Liam didn’t want to believe it but his former body was now acting like horny straight guy now that his brother was in the driver's seat. He didn’t see what happened after that as the two retreated to what was now Jack’s room to continue but Jack made sure to tell Liam all about it afterwards.

“Fuck you should’ve seen her bro. Practically shoving her tits in my face at one point while she massaged my cock with her ass. She kept saying how happy she was that I wasn’t gay because of how wet I always made her before giving me the greatest tit job of my life! And you’d better believe I ate out her pussy afterwards while she moaned about how good my beard felt.” He would taunt.

And that’s how it’d been for the past week. Almost every night Jack had brought someone home. It was usually Veronica but he’d had a few other girls over as well. And every time he’d taunt Liam about it. Telling him that his manly body was finally being used for its real purpose. Not that Liam needed to be told when the fucking was so loud he could hear it from anywhere in the house. Listening as Jack slammed his stolen cock deep into some wet pussy, living the dream of every straight man with the stolen body of his gay brother. And as his balls slapped against her with every thrust he would think to himself that this was how things were supposed to be and this was how they were going to stay.

All the while Liam suffered in silence while watching his brother turn his former body into a typical straight bro who never shuts up about tits and pussy. His reputation as a gay guy was already ruined as news spread about him ‘going straight’. Liam could only pray he somehow figures out where Jack got that amulet from before he ends up using that body to get someone pregnant. If he can find it at all…

#male body swap #gay to straight #brothers #male body theft #identity theft #hairy #magic #permanent

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carolmunson · 1 year

Text

alive with the glory of love

(older!rockstar!eddie x older!actress!wife!)

a valentine's slice of life with our favorite rockstar almost thirty years into our marriage. the year is 2023 and we're still stella rink and we're still famous as hell. aged like fine wine. a decades long career and a decades long marriage with two twins in their late twenties. this is semi from the twins perspective. we know what our life was looking like before, let's see what it looks like now. :) eddie manip by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple cw: 18+ minors dni, allusions to smut/wearing lingerie, but overall this is a short little something. reader and eddie are both 57, so, sorry if you don't want to be fifty seven. but if i have to be in my 'early twenties' every time i read a fic, you can be older for like, seven and a half minutes.

The phone eases into focus, Violet’s giggle sounds as she presses record, leaning on her elbows at the kitchen island. The room is a sun drenched, black and white tiled vision — still partially stuck in the 90s, remnants of your old life, despite the ongoing renovations. Despite the teasing from your adult children. Some stuff just never lost its charm – plus, the kids were calling it ‘a 90s vibe’ and you were both pretty sure that was cool.

“Morning, happy Valentine’s Day,” Violet says sleepily, Van trudging in behind her. They both take lazy seats on the bar stools across from the chef stove that their father is delicately working over.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, honey,” Eddie calls over his shoulder, daintily pouring pink batter into a cookie cutter mold on a hot pan. The kitchen and dining room are filled to the brim with flowers and balloons. Eddie’s been up for hours getting everything set up for you, some things never change. Some things never get old.

“What’re you doing?” Van asks.

“What do you mean, what am I doing? I’m making mommy—” He turns around with a furrowed brow, deepening his forehead creases before he realizes they’re recording him. He sighs before turning back to his task, “Guys, again with the phone?”

“C’mon dad, they love you!” Violet begs, putting her phone down and shoving it in her sweatshirt pocket, “Van show him the comments on the last one.”

“They think you’re hilarious, they want you to have your own account,” Van encourages, he opens his own phone to bring over to his dad. He grew up to be a spitting image of the two of you, as if they pasted Eddie’s face on his and gave him all your other features. The color of your eyes, the texture of your hair. Your bright, enrapturing smile. A perfect fifty-fifty.

Van scrolls slowly through the endless comments, Eddie squinting down at them, “Van, I don’t have my glasses.”

Eddie peers down lower, “What does that mean? ‘I know it’s big’? What’s big?” “New…choker…just…dropped? I didn’t make chokers for merch,” he shrugs, waving him away to pay attention to the stove. “Ew,” Violet laughs, “Stop making him read these out loud, that’s so gross.”

“You should still make your own,” Van says, sitting back down, “It’d do way better than the one for Corroded.”

“Have your mom do it,” Ed shrugs off, “She knows how to do all that internet shit.”

“That Howard Stern clip is going viral again,” Violet says devilishly, “The girlies are obsessed with you.”

“I don’t care about the girlies, Vi,” Eddie blushes, flipping one of the pancakes on the pan, “I care about your mom.”

“I just wanna show them what you guys do for your favorite holiday,” Violet whines, “They’ll love it.”

“They’re gonna call him a simp,” Van teases, a look of realization washing over his face, “Wait, you’re such a simp for mom, actually.”

They both laugh, Eddie doesn’t know what ‘a simp’ is so he laughs too.

“That’s a good word for like, a DND character type — you should see about that in your campaigns,” Ed continues while he plates a pancake on an ever growing stack of pink and red.

“Ohmygod Dad, no, that’s not—“ Van laughs silently into his hands.

“Stop making fun of him, he’s old,” Violet pleads between giggles, taking her phone out again, “Dad, seriously can you just tell us what you’re doing? Why do you love Valentine’s Day?”

“Is this for your TikTok thing?” he asks, pulling his dark curls up in a ponytail with a black silk scrunchie, bangs he can’t quite part with falling in waves over his brow. ‘My Pilates teacher was telling me they’ll be safer on your hair,’ you’d said — and he’s never been one to say no to you. Every time the kids came home they’d take their phones out and make Tiktok’s of the two of you, sometimes you’d make a solo one for Violet or Van’s page if you felt like it. But with Twitter and Instagram, you didn’t want to overload your assistant with some other form of social media – but it looked like the two of you were really popular. Especially Eddie.

Violet educated you about ‘fancams’ which were just clips to music. There were a lot of the two of you together, or you solo from your movies and shows in the 90s. Progressions of you then and now and how you’re still ‘so hot’ and ‘unproblematic’. Eddie’s almost always started with the clip of him at Howard Stern, jaw ticking while he tried to keep his composure: ‘Excuse the fuck out of me, what did you just say about my wife? Do you wanna lose your fuckin’ teeth?’ The comments were always flooded with a mess of young people losing their shit: ‘god i’ve seen what you’ve done for others’ ‘stopppp he’s obsessed with her’ ‘@vidawn i hope your mom can fight’ ‘@vannywayne @vidawn i’m five years younger than u but i would be a great step dad’ ‘when is someone gonna fight howard stern FOR ME?’ ‘@vannywayne @vidawn they’re thirsting over your dad again’ ‘i’m banging on the walls of my enclosure’ 'ewwww we hate cheaters' ‘i NEED to fuck him’ ‘@vannywayne you look EXACTLY the same’ ‘are they looking for a third?’ 'idgi he looks dirty' ‘they are notttttt making them like him anymore’ ‘not him being old enough to be my father i’m sick’

“Obviously,” she snaps back, rolling his eyes when he starts touching himself up for the camera.

“Should I do a couple of push ups so I look buff or…?” he teases. Violet and Van make a face that puts any face you’ve given him to shame. It’s the only regret he has about having kids with you – all that attitude had to go somewhere.

“Fine, fine,” he huffs, “I’m ready for my close up, Vi.”

“You’re so cheesy, dad. Just be normal for like, five seconds,” Violet huffs, taking out her phone again, “You’re ready?”

“M’ready,” he smiles. “Okay, so, what’re you doing?” Violet asks again.

“I am making pancakes,” he starts, pouring red better into the cookie cutter mold on the pan this time, “In a heart shape, for your mom.”

“How long have you been doing this?” she asks, a smile spreading across her face. It matches her dads. There was no mistaking that Violet was Eddie Munson’s daughter.

“Since we got together, so – the first one was in 1990,” he muttered, flipping the pancake, “I do it every year ‘cause she loves it. They’re strawberry, but they’re pink and red ‘cause I put food coloring in them.”

“Is Valentine’s Day her favorite holiday?”

Eddie grins, “No, her favorite holiday is the fourth of July. Not ‘cause she’s got a boner for America or anything. She just likes fireworks and when I use the grill.” “Is it your favorite holiday?” Van asks this time. Eddie nods, a bright blush pushing up on his face.

“How come?” Violet and Van ask at the same time. Eddie turns the burner off, placing the heaping plate of heart shaped pancakes on the center of the island. He opens the wine cooler on the opposite wall, pulling out a bottle of champagne and two flutes from the top cabinet.

“‘Cause I get to spoil your mom all day,” he smiles, “She deserves it.”

“You spoil her every day,” Van teases, “I can’t think of a more doted on woman on earth than mom.”

“She’s very special,” he shrugs.

“And you do this every year?” Violet asks, zooming in on the pancakes.

“Every year for the past thirty four years, well, minus ninety-two,” he frowns a little, “We had some time apart that year.”

“Still had my chef make them for me though.”

Your voice cuts in from the large arch way connecting to the dining room and Violet pans quickly over to get you in frame.

“Hi mom,” Vi says, “Is this your favorite holiday?”

“No,” you shake your head and laugh, the same laugh he fell in love with, “It’s the fourth of July. C’mon Vi, how long have I been your mom? Do you even know me?” “You’re supposed to be in bed, honey,” Eddie frowns, “You’re ruining the surprise.”

“The surprise that’s older than my kids? How could I forget,” you grin, rounding the island and greeting your husband with a gentle kiss, “Happy Valentine’s day.”

“Happy Valentine’s day, baby,” he murmurs into a second chaste peck, “You’re supposed to let me bring them up to you.”

“My kids are home, I don’t wanna spend all day in bed,” you pout. He pouts back dramatically, tugging on your arm to pull you flush against his chest.

“I thought you loved spending all day in bed with me,” he pushes some of your hair back before resting a palm on your cheek, moving in to kiss you deeply. The scruff on his chin scratches around your mouth but you never care because he still kisses you, he kisses you every day. He’d kiss you all day if you let him. You had too many girlfriends whose ex-husbands were on their third wife and every year they’re more surprised that Eddie is still on his first.

“Okay, I think that’s our cue to leave,” Van says, Violet stops recording. Their faces sour.

“Yeah we don’t want a January ‘94 repeat or anything,” Vi jokes. The twins high five at their own mean reference to your horrific sex tape debacle, but you and Eddie toss them a playful glare.

“Hey, she might be your mother, but she’s my wife,” Eddie warns, hand sneaking down to rest on the small of your back to pull you close to him, “Don’t mess with her.”

“Yeah,” you tease, crossing your arms, “You saw what he did to Howie’s studio. I just gotta say the word.”

“So scary,” Violet rolls her eyes, leaving the kitchen with her twin in tow, “We’re taking the Jeep to get Jamba Juice, do you want anything?”

“My usual,” you answer while Eddie goes to the fridge to get grapefruit juice out of the fridge, “And get daddy’s usual too. Do you want his card? Where’s your card, hun?”

“Wherever you last left it,” he responds, gracefully pouring grapefruit mimosas for the both of you.

“It’s in my purse,” you call out.

“Which one?!” Violet calls back, both of them waiting by the door.

“The pink Kelly!”

“Got it! Do you want anything else?” Van calls out.

“Just uh,” Eddie giggles to himself, tossing you a once over, “Take your time!”

“Gross!” they yell back in unison. Eddie waits for the door to close to pull you back into him, he watches you at first. Brown eyes cascading over the slope of your nose, your cheeks, the crinkles at the edge of your eyes, your smile lines. He looks at you like he’s looking at you for the first time, every time. He looks different, but the same. Dark curls smattered and entwined in silver, a nose ring, a never ending scratch of overgrown stubble. Deep lines on his forehead that exaggerate his already animated features. Lips still full and warm, hands still big and covered in rings. He’s kept his body real tight for fifty-seven, still throwing himself in the gym daily. ‘If I’m gonna be addicted to something now it might as well be like, my cardiovascular health, babe.’ His crows feet make him somehow more attractive, his smile got better with age. He still makes your heart race when he catches your eye from across the room. “You wearing that little red thing I like?” he purrs in your ear. The tie to your robe sliding between his inked fingers.

“Maybe,” your finger trails over a tattoo on his bicep, “Maybe, I got something new for you to see. Maybe it’s black, maybe it’s strappy. Maybe it’s that thing you saw when we went shopping last week.”

“Christ,” he huffs, pressing a kiss to your cheek before stepping back over to the counter, “Do you ever stop getting hotter? Eat your breakfast before I bend you over this bar stool.”

“Let’s bring it upstairs like you wanted,” you smile, following him closely to press your hips up against him, “We can get a little messy.”

“Yeah?” he growls, pushing part of your robe away to see a peek of black lace and strappy leather, “Fucking god, Stell.”

“C’mon,” you whisper breathily, pushing up on your tiptoes to kiss him again, “They’ll be home soon.”

Some things have changed, some things remain the same. He still fucks you like a rockstar.

#eddie munson rockstar au #rockstar!eddie munson smut #rockstar!eddie smut #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie #eddie munson fluff #rockstar!eddie fluff #older!eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x y/n

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candycandy00 · 7 months

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The Doll House - A Geto Suguru x Reader Fanfic Part 4 (Final)

You sell yourself to a brothel to feed your family and Geto Suguru is in charge of training you to be the perfect submissive sex doll.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Read Toji’s Part Here!

Read Nanami’s Part Here!

Read Sukuna’s Part Here!

Read Gojo’s Part Here!

Read Choso’s Part Here!

AU! Each trainer will get their own story! This is Geto’s. I’m not sure how many parts it will have. If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged! Any feedback whatsoever is adored!

Smut. 18+. Dubcon. Submission. Extreme humiliation. Voyeurism. Light degradation. Masturbation. First time sex. Fem Reader. This Divider by @benkeibear!

When Suguru enters his room, he finds his doll huddled in a corner, shivering. She’s pulled his shirt on, but it dwarfs her, the sleeves covering her hands. He approaches slowly, and stops a few feet away before kneeling down to her level.

“Can we talk?” he asks her, his voice soft and even. “Not as trainer and doll, just as people.”

She looks up at him. Her eyes are puffy and wet. Seeing the anguish on her face makes him feel like he’s been stabbed. “You said you wouldn’t hurt me,” she says. “You said I can trust you, that you’ll keep me safe. But when I felt unsafe, when I was scared, I turned to you! And you… you…”

“I hurt you, and I’m sorry,” he began. “You have no idea how sorry I am. I thought this would upset you, yes. But I didn’t realize how much it would hurt you. If I had, I swear I wouldn’t have put you through that.”

To emphasize his apology, Suguru bows down low to the floor, touching his forehead to the carpet. “Please forgive me for failing you as a trainer, as a person.”

He doesn’t look up to see her reaction, but after a few moments of silence, he hears her voice say, “I want to know why. Why did you do it? What did I do to deserve punishment like that?”

Finally lifting his face, he gazes at her wet but determined eyes. “The truth is, you scared me this afternoon,” he tells her. “I could tell you’re getting too attached to me. Remember what I told you? The cruelest fate for a doll is falling in love with her trainer. Because that trainer is going to hand her over to some other man and then move on to the next doll. I’ve seen it absolutely devastate dolls in the past, and I didn’t want that to happen to you, so I thought if I did something drastic, it would stamp out your feelings for me.”

She doesn’t say anything, just stares at him. It’s agony not knowing what she’s thinking, but he goes on. “That’s also why I haven’t had sex with you yet. I’m afraid it will only make the attachment worse.”

He doesn’t say so, but he’s even more afraid of the fact that he’s growing attached to her. He denied it to Satoru, but his longtime friend knows him better than anyone, and he’d hit the nail right on the head.

His doll narrows her eyes at him in a look of disapproval that sends a shock of panic through him. No doll has ever looked at him this way. “You’re selfish,” she says. “You decided what you thought was best for me on your own. You didn’t even ask me how I felt or what I wanted! Yes, I’m attached to you. Yes, I’m in love with you! But maybe I’m prepared for whatever heartache I’ll feel when we separate. Maybe I still think it’s worth it!”

Suguru blinks in surprise. Is his doll actually stronger than he thought? Looking at her now, with steely resolve in her eyes, he thinks she’s more beautiful than she’s ever been. Not to mention the fact that she’s wearing his shirt. He’s seen her naked this whole time, but somehow knowing his shirt is against her body is getting him riled up.

God, he’s falling for her.

He bows his head down again. “To make things right, I will submit to you for twenty-four hours. I’ll do anything you want, no matter what it is.”

******************

You stare at Suguru’s bowed, submissive form. Is he serious? Is he really going to do whatever you say? You decide to test him.

“Tomorrow morning at breakfast, I want you to go to the dining hall naked! And jack off in front of everyone!”

His eyes become as round as saucers, a blush creeping over his face. Then he takes a deep breath and looks straight at you with a strained but determined expression. “Okay. If that’s what I have to do to make things right, I’ll do it.”

“Really?”

He nods.

You can’t resist laughing. “I’m just kidding! I wouldn’t make you do that. I’m not that cruel.”

His face shifts from relieved to guilty. “I really will do anything you ask. Just tell me what you want.”

You think for a moment, then climb to your feet. “Take your clothes off, and don’t wear anything for the rest of the night.”

He stands up from his kneeling position on the floor and looks down at you. Again you see that fire in his eyes. He’s already shirtless, so he unbuckles his belt. Then he kicks off his shoes, opens his pants, and slides them down his legs, leaving only his boxers.

You find yourself breathing a little faster as you watch him push his boxers down and step out of them. There’s something lurid about seeing him stark naked here, outside the bathroom.

His body is divine. Perfectly toned, with smooth skin, eyes like darkened amber, hair a black river pouring down his back. His cock is growing hard before your eyes as he looks at you. Why? You’re actually covered up for the first time in two weeks. Regardless, you can’t stop staring at him.

“Now sit on the edge of the bed,” you say, “and pleasure yourself.”

He seems surprised for a moment, then gives you a sensual grin and lowers himself onto the bed, sitting on the mattress, facing you. He opens his thighs slightly, now fully erect, and begins lightly stroking himself while looking at you.

His hand moves slowly at first, sliding up and down his shaft, his thumb brushing over his tip. Then he starts to move a little faster, a little harder. After a few minutes, you can see a sheen on his skin as his hand smears precum from the tip over the rest of it. You want to wrap your lips around it, but you don’t. This is his punishment after all. Instead you stand just a few feet away, watching. His eyes never leave your face, and just to tease him, you lick your lips.

You hear his breaths come harder, see his face flushed pink as his hand strokes faster. His hair is still loose, some of it in his eyes as he moves. You’ve never seen a hotter sight in your life. You rub your thighs together under his shirt, but it’s not enough. Not enough friction. While he stares at you with lusty eyes, you reach down and press the soft fabric of his shirt between your legs, against your bare, wet pussy, and rub.

The fire in his eyes becomes an inferno. You hear his creamy voice gasp out, “Fuck, you’re so…” But he stops before he can finish. He’s breathing fast, jacking off faster and faster, and you know he’s close. You can’t resist any longer. You drop to your knees in front of him and open your mouth, extending your tongue. He looks surprised, but then he quickly presses his tip to your tongue and releases, cumming into your mouth in great spurts.

When he’s empty, he falls back on the bed, panting, one arm draped over his face. After he regains his strength, you insist that he takes a shower while you watch. You’ve done this every night, but somehow it feels different when you’re covered up and he’s not. You also order him to dry his hair but leave it hanging loose.

You finally get to shut the door while you shower, reveling in the comfort of the warm water and the privacy. You steal another one of his big comfy sweatshirts to wear for the night, but when you start to put the one you wore earlier in the hamper, he stops you.

“I’ll wash this later,” he says, gently pulling it from your grasp. You watch him fold it and shove it into a drawer, thinking that’s sort of gross, but a little flattering.

“I’m sleeping in the bed tonight,” you tell him, already crawling under his covers.

“Of course,” he says, getting the blanket you’ve been using from his closet and preparing to sleep on the floor.

“Wait. I want you to sleep in the bed too.”

He pauses, looking at you. “Are you sure?”

You nod, then look down a bit shyly. “And… I want you to cuddle me.”

*******************

When she said those words, Suguru made his decision. But it will be weeks before he tells her.

He slips under the covers, then scoots as close as possible to her. She’s lying on her side, facing him, looking at him with wide, glassy eyes. He pulls her into his arms, the warmth of her delicate frame wrapped in his sweatshirt feeling incredible against his naked body.

For a while, they just stay that way, the only movement coming from the rise and fall of their chests as they breathe each other in. She smells sweet, like the cherry shampoo he put in the shower for her. Finally she shifts, turning her face up to look at him. “You aren’t too cold, are you?”

He smiles down at her. “No, you’re keeping me warm.”

She snuggles even closer to him, and he’s overcome with a feeling of guilt. He can’t stop thinking about what he did, about her terrified face looking to him, hoping for him to stop that whole nightmare. Feeling the way he does for her right now, with her in his arms, he wishes he could go back in time and punch himself in the face.

But it’s done, it happened, and he can’t change it. He can only work to make it up to her. Right now, he only wants to make her happy, to make her feel good, to be even closer to her.

He tilts his face down, and does something he’s never done to a doll before: he kisses her lips.

She blinks, surprised, before her eyes slide closed, her mouth opening to allow him to deepen the kiss. She tastes as sweet as she smells, and his hands glide over her body beneath the covers, sliding under the shirt.

He rolls them both over, leaving her on her back with him on top of her, and kisses her again. When he stops to take a breath, he looks down at her and asks, “Do you still want me to fuck you?”

Her eyes seem to light up with excitement. “Yes!”

*****************

You thought you’d be scared. You’ve imagined your first time over and over, and it always left you feeling both excited and nervous. But right now? With Suguru sliding his sweatshirt up your body to reveal your breasts, his lips planting kisses down your neck and collar bone before taking one hardened nipple into his mouth, you only feel elation.

Every touch is gentle, soft, warm, as his hands explore you in ways they never have before. His movements are intimate, affectionate. He lightly grinds his hard body against you, and you can feel him all over. His hair, still loose, flares out around him, falling over both of you like a curtain. Your hands can’t resist grabbing it, running your fingers through it as he pushes your legs apart.

His fingers slip between your folds, stroking your clit until your pussy is glazed and ready. It doesn’t take much. You’ve been aroused all night, with him walking around the room completely naked. He scoots forward, positioning himself, then looks at your face.

You raise your head from the pillows and kiss his lips, confirming that you’re ready.

Suguru presses himself inside you, slowly, inch by inch, watching your face intently. There’s discomfort, but no pain, as you feel yourself stretch around him. He’s going slowly enough to give your body time to adjust, careful to avoid tearing the delicate skin. When the stretch becomes a bit much, you wince, and he pauses.

“Are you okay?” he asks, so sweetly.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you tell him.

“Can you take a little more?”

You nod your head. “I want all of you.”

He pushes further in, and finally he sighs in pleasure. “It’s all in,” he says.

For a while, he doesn’t move. He’s letting you get used to his size. The discomfort you felt fades away, leaving only a pleasant sensation of warm fullness. He’s inside you. The man you’re in love with is inside you, and just thinking about that makes your whole body tingle.

“I’m going to move now,” he says, and then he slowly pulls part of the way out before pushing back in. He watches your reaction carefully, and when you show no signs of pain, he begins thrusting slowly in and out of you.

Your breath hitches as his cock goes in deeper than before, hitting a spot that makes your toes curl. He looks down at you with that fiery expression, eyes almost dazed, hair messy around his face. And he begins moving a little faster, going incredibly deep each time, continuously hitting that sweet spot until you’re moaning under him. Your arms fly up to wrap around his neck, pulling his beautiful face closer so you can kiss him again as his thrusts become stronger, faster.

He’s using one arm to brace himself above you, the other is curled around beneath your head, holding you up, fingers in your hair, as his mouth devours yours. The way he’s looking at you, the way his breathing is matching your own, the way his thrusts are so deep and deliberate… he’s not having sex with you. He’s making love to you.

As if you have no control over them, your legs automatically wrap around him, and then your whole body is clinging to him, pulling him impossibly close.

“Feels so good… Suguru…” you moan out, barely noticing that you forgot to call him Master. You feel him twitch, feel his body becoming tense, and you know he’s on the edge, just like you. “Please… cum inside me…”

He’s breathing hard, staring at your face with such a lovely, lustful expression. Then he plunges deeper than ever into you, pressing against that heavenly spot, kissing you at the same moment.

It pushes you over the edge, and you cum around him at the same time he releases his seed inside you, your mouths drinking in each other’s moans.

When it was over, he helped you pull his shirt back down your body and the two of you fell asleep snuggled into each other’s arms.

*********************

Several weeks later, you find yourself standing in the welcome room of the Doll House, wearing your own clothes, waiting to meet your new owner. Your suitcase is sitting on the floor beside you, and you’re a nervous wreck.

Ordinarily, buyers are expected to come in for several in person visits before the transfer of ownership, so that the new owner isn’t a stranger to the doll. But your buyer preferred to remain anonymous and forgo the visits.

You said your goodbyes to the other trainers and dolls this morning at breakfast, then to Suguru this afternoon. You were a little sad that he didn’t seem as bothered by your separation as you were, but you suppose that’s to be expected. After all, he’s said goodbye to countless dolls before you.

You tried to stay calm and strong. You promised Suguru you could handle this, that you wouldn’t fall apart or make a scene, but it’s hard. You want to cry. You want to storm back into his room and beg him not to let you go. But you won’t do that.

Ever since that first night you made love, the training changed. Suguru insisted you wear one of his oversized shirts every time you left his room. He let you sleep in the bed every night with him, cuddled up like lovers. You still had to call him “Master Suguru” and obey all his orders, often doing lewd things to him or in front of him, but you came to enjoy those orders. There was a softness to him, a warmth in his smile when he looked at you. Because of that, you’d hoped… Well, best not to dwell on it.

As you stood there fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, you heard a familiar voice behind you.

“Excuse me, miss? I’m in the market for a doll.”

You whirl around to find Suguru standing behind you, grinning. You look at him in confusion. “What?”

“All trainers are allowed to pick one doll they’ve trained to keep as their own, just once during their career,” he says. “So I’m your new owner, if you’ll have me.”

Tears are stinging your eyes already. “If? If I’ll have you?!” you ask, wiping your face. “What a silly thing to say, Master Suguru!”

With that, you dive into his arms, feeling safe and comfortable for the first time since you signed the contract. There was no longer a looming shadow of some unknown owner who would control you for ten years. There was only Suguru, the man you loved.

The next ten years were looking very bright.

Tag List:

@suguguro @kaedear @onyxsphynx @poopoobuttsy @butterskyy @collectionofdolls @akaotv @witchbybirth @bloofinntoona @wasurenagusaa @tclbts @tojirin @lucyrocks86 @badbyeyoongi @97britt @aydene

#geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #geto #geto suguru #geto smut #geto x y/n #geto x you #geto suguru smut

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gardenofnoah · 1 year

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i’m coming up on a year of having this blog and i thought i’d do something with this drabble that i can’t stop thinking about so. yeah! thanks for reading my little stories and saying such nice things to me for a whole year <3 love u

summary: in his 40s, touya isn’t expecting anything outside of his normal, comfortable routine. you come along and give him far more than he ever wanted. oddly enough, he doesn’t think he minds.

tags: MDNI, i’ll call this a medium burn, mentions of drinking, reader uses she/her pronouns and is called a lady,etc, age gap (unspecified but like 10 years--both are consenting adults), very little angst (like, the least i’ve ever written. this is just cute, if you can believe that.), smut (dry humping, oral), this is very much a comfort fic to me idk. wc: 10.1k

much to his utter disdain, Touya sees you everywhere after your first encounter. and often.

you have this awful habit of just popping up. in the stool next to him at the bar, with such regularity that his friends now joke about it being your stool, and then around town—everywhere he goes. it’s a small town, sure—but he still finds it ridiculous. even more ridiculous—the fact that you might be growing on him, despite all his resistance.

he doesn’t know when he started expecting you to hop up on that stool every friday. has no idea when he memorized your drink order, or when he started ordering it for you preemptively. this goes on every friday for weeks—until you don’t show up.

and he’s irritated then, because it makes him sore—where else could you possibly be?

“where’s your girl?”

“don’t know,” he mutters. he catches the smirk on his friend’s face out of the corner of his eye. “and she’s not my fuckin’ girl.”

that makes him laugh, and Touya turns away in a huff, face burning.

“sure she’s not.”

it’s another two weeks before he sees you. not that he was counting.

when he sees you again, it’s a tuesday, and he’s just wrapped up at his neighbor’s house. he carries two loaves of bread in one arm, and his toolbox in the other. the old woman had chased him out of there early, telling him, “it’s a nice night. go out there and find you someone!”. he snorts, kicking a bit of asphalt down the pavement. that old bat acts worse than his mother.

there are a few vendors lined up along the road, so he lets himself take his time—strolling casually, eyes raking over the stalls. it is a nice evening—warm, but the breeze is cool as it rustles through his hair. he sees a white tip from the corner of his eye and it almost startles him. it doesn’t matter how much distance he puts between himself and Dabi—it still surprises him when he realizes that he is not the same. physically or otherwise.

lost in his thoughts, he finds himself nearly home when he sees you in his peripheral, taking something from the merchant of the produce stall across the street. he has half a mind to turn and walk the opposite way (away from his house) just to avoid this interaction—still wholly irritated over wasting the $7 on your stupid little drink, and that’s all—but you seem to have a weird sixth sense when it comes to him, and your head snaps up in his direction right before he can make a break for it. you give him that stupid smile that he has to look away from, waving at him happily before you take off in his direction.

he considers if he still has time to flee, but then you’re there in front of him.

“Touya!” you beam up at him, totally ignoring the scowl he levels you with, “what are you doing here?”

“i live here,” he grumbles, looking away from you again, “what are you doing here?”

“ah, i visit my family on tuesdays. whatcha got there?”

he pointedly looks down at the bread in his arms, and back up at you. you’re looking at it a little too intensely, eyebrows scrunched together like you’re trying to figure something out—and then the moment’s gone, and you’re smiling up at him again.

“want to share?” you ask, holding up your bag of produce to him.

he doesn’t, but he finds himself next to you anyway, sitting on a retaining wall while you chatter away—kicking your feet out and handing him slices of an orange between your own bites.

he learns more about you. early 30s (so not as young as he’d guessed, but still young enough to make him cringe), living alone like he is. you grew up in town, moved away for a while, and then came back. you don’t really like sweets but you do like fruit—hence the overflowing tote bag full of it—and you’re more inclined to reach for tea than coffee. you own the little flower shop a few blocks down. he thinks it suits you—and then he shakes his head, trying to dislodge the thought.

“i’m having an issue with the floor though, so part of the shop has been blocked off for a few weeks. not great for the foot traffic, but what can you do,” you shrug absentmindedly, more focused on digging another piece of fruit out of your bag. you settle on a peach, and it’s quiet between you for a beat. as if waiting for the silence, the thought that he’d been holding back for the better part of an hour finds its way out of his mouth.

“haven’t seen you at the bar,” he mutters, picking a stringy bit of peel off the orange piece he’s been holding.

“huh? oh, yeah. i had a wedding order that i was working on. it was so….much,” you shudder like you went off to war instead. “why, did you miss me?”

he looks away, eyes narrowed in a scowl. “just was a waste of a drink, s’all.”

he regrets it as soon as it leaves his mouth.

“a drink? my—oh. wait.”

your eyes go wide—he should’ve known you’d catch on to the meaning behind his words and he wants to die—

“forget it—“

“Touya,” you cut him off, and he can hear your shit eating grin, “were you hoping to see me?”

he’s sure he’s gone bright red and resists the urge to recede into himself like a snail into a shell. now he’s irritated, because did you think your drink just magically appeared in front of you every friday? he can feel the smugness radiating off of you—you want him to say it. he huffs, still looking away from you.

“just…was a waste of money,” he grits out, knowing fully that he hasn’t worried about money in quite some time, “figured you’d be there.”

you hum, and he still can’t look at you. refuses to, actually.

“sorry, Touya,” you tell him, and it sounds so genuine that he finds himself turning to you, just to check—to make sure you’re not fucking with him. “i’ll be sure to let you know the next time i won't be there.”

he rolls his eyes at the way you’re smiling softly at him, always like you know something he doesn’t. he mumbles out a clipped “whatever” and he hates the way he sounds like he did when he was 23. you don’t pay it any mind though, right back to talking his ear off.

“so do you live, like, really alone? or do you have a pet? you strike me as a gerbil guy.”

he huffs out a laugh at that, caught wholly off guard at the thought of being the gerbil guy (have you seen him?) and you smile at the sound, clearly pleased with yourself.

“no gerbil. a dog,” he finally takes a bite of the orange he’s been cradling in his palm for the better half of the last 20 minutes. your eyes don’t leave him.

“mm. chihuahua,” you say solemnly, and he whips his head around to look at you, expression all twisted and incredulous.

“a big fuckin’ dog, you brat.”

you laugh at his outburst, seeming to get some sort of pleasure out of riling him up.

“can i meet him?”

he looks at you then, and you’re really laying it on thick—wide eyes blinking up at him, bottom lip jutted out in a little pout. he can’t find it in himself to say no to you. with a sigh, he pushes himself up from the wall.

“c’mon then.”

it’s a short walk to his place and you’re vibrating behind him. shoving his key into the lock, he hears the familiar thumping of a tail, at about the same frequency as your incessant excitement at his back—he wonders just what he’s done to attract this level of energy.

“wait a minute—he’s going to jump at you—“

“oh, who cares. let me see him!”

he shakes his head, swinging open the door. he sees his big oaf of a dog rear up to jump, and then—

and then his jaw drops, because for what may very well be the first time, his dog is suddenly sitting.

you squeal and the dog isn’t much better off—practically wiggling away from his spot on the floor and whining at the sight of you, but still sitting.

“Touya!” you laugh, shoving past him to throw your arms around the dog’s neck, squeezing him tightly, “i know this dog!”

“you—huh?”

“i—“ your own laugh cuts you off, giggling while the dog fights your grip to lick you directly on the face, “i know him! did you get him at the shelter in town?”

“…yeah?”

“oh man! i used to volunteer—i was there when he was dropped off. i was with him all the time—taught him some manners—but then i took that job out of town for a little bit, so i didn’t get to see him after that.”

Touya, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that his dog is sitting, can’t bring himself to formulate a coherent reply.

“oh, i was so worried about him,” you say quietly, hugging the dog tighter, “i’m really glad you have him. what did you name him?”

that snaps him out of it, and he looks away, sheepish.

“i—uh. didn’t.”

you blink at him, processing, and then you frown.

“are you kidding me?”

he shrugs, looking at the dog— who, also for the first time, seems to be glaring at him with the same sentiment.

you sigh, shaking your head. “that won’t do,” you mutter, more to the dog than to him. “i think i called him Buck.”

as if on cue, Buck’s tail thumps against the floor.

“why?”

“not sure,” you say, scratching behind a fuzzy ear, “he just reminded me a little bit of a deer.”

Touya scoffs, completely in the dark as to how the two were even remotely similar.

“alright. Buck it is, then.”

you smile, patting the dog on the head as if he’d done anything worth rewarding. with a sigh you get to your feet, stretching a bit.

“i really do have to go see my family now,” you tell him, and he swears he hears a tiny bit of regret in your voice, “but thanks for letting me see Buck.”

he only nods, watching you bend down to kiss Buck square on his stupid blockhead.

“see you Friday?”

he swallows thickly, nodding again. your eyes are too bright.

“okay. see you, Touya.”

“hey,” he stops himself from reaching for you as you go to open the door, “i can…look at that floor for you. if y’want.”

every time he thinks he’s used to the way you just throw your emotions around like live grenades, he’s not—you smile at him so brightly he thinks you might just kill him.

you have a hunch that Touya is secretly a really good guy.

it’s almost endearing—how hard he tries to be so prickly—but it’s always all for naught, because he can’t help but go out of his way to do things for you.

you don’t know what to call the relationship—you gathered enough information from hushed whispers to his friends anytime he left his stool at the bar to know that he pointedly did not seek out the affections of women (“or men,” one of his friends said with a shrug, like they weren’t really sure). you weren’t clear on where that left you, so you were content to keep learning what you could about him—to stick around, as long as he tolerated you.

and he just barely does that, but you have a hunch it’s a farce. especially when take out cups full of freshly steeped tea start appearing on your counter in the shop, more days than not.

you lean against the wood top, sipping today's tea with both hands to warm yourself while you watch Touya work. autumn was in full swing now, and you had some difficulty keeping the shop to your preferred level of warmth, but it didn’t seem to bother him. your eyes linger on the hem of his old t-shirt, rising up in the back just a little when he reached for a different tool. it was obvious that time had softened him a bit, but he was still in shape. your vision followed the faded, looping scar that moved with the curl of his bicep as he worked each tool. it was hard not to stare.

it was even harder to get away with it.

“you’ll burn a hole in my head, brat.”

“just checking your work,” you tell him through a grin. trying very hard to feign nonchalance.

“oh yeah?” Touya looks at you over his shoulder, smirking at you. you feel it bodily. “what’s the verdict?”

“looks….” you pause, examining the array of tools and the sizable hole he’s created in the floor, “yeah. yep. like good work.”

he scoffs, shaking his head and turning back to the task at hand. you resist the urge to slam your head off the counter—settling for tapping in lightly as reprimand for your less than intelligent response.

you decide that the best way to get the embarrassment to dissipate is to do the thing that is quickly becoming your favorite activity: bothering him.

“pick a color.”

“what?”

“i said pick a color, grandpa.”

the sigh he lets out makes you laugh. “you fuckin’—fine. red. what’re you doing?”

you smile at him, and you watch him flush. it makes you giddy.

“nothing,” you drawl, sing-songy and incriminating, “don’t you worry your little heart about it.”

“you are the worry to my little heart,” he deadpans, not bothering to look up from the measurement he’s taking.

another thing you learn about Touya—he’s got a bit of a (dry) sense of humor. he seems to enjoy making you laugh.

there’s a lull in customers and you use it to your advantage—you go around to every bucket to ensure that each cut stem is submerged, and take out the wilted ones to dry. you don’t sell those ones—you just hang them up around the shop. you think it’s better not to waste them.

you also pull out some good looking red ones, as inconspicuous as you can—you gather a tulip, a few poppies, a peony, and a big, variegated chrysanthemum for the center.

you hold the makeshift bouquet behind your back as you approach Touya—padding over to him quietly until you’re close enough to lean into his space.

“whatcha thinking about?”

he spares you a pointed glance over his shoulder. “pest control.”

“har har,” you plop down right next to him, grinning at the way he bristles. of course it’s all for show—he doesn’t move an inch.

“made you something.”

“hm?”

you bring the bouquet out from behind your back, brandishing it in front of him dramatically. “tada!”

his eyes go wide—you see it take a minute for him to process that you’re giving him a gift. he sets his tools down and reaches for it, tentatively, like you’re going to fake him out at the last second. you meet him halfway, setting it in his hands.

“well?” you ask after a minute, “what do you think? i do pretty well, right?”

he’s quiet—turning the flowers over and back again, like he’s committing all of the little petals to memory. “what are they?”

you tell him about each flower—where they grow naturally, what conditions they like to live in, how to take care of them. he listens intently, never looking away from them.

“you don’t have to keep them,” you tell him after another moment of silence, “it was just a silly thing.”

“no,” he says, firmly. he looks at you out of the corner of his eye and lets out a breath, looking back down at the flowers. “s’nice. thanks.”

you have to physically stop yourself from jumping up and cheering.

“you’re welcome, old man,” you murmur, nudging his shoulder with your own.

he groans, grumbling a lighthearted “get away from me” as he shoves you back playfully. you let out some sort of dramatic squeal as you topple over, and you don’t miss the tiny smile that stretches across his face as he sets the flowers down next to him and gets back to work.

customers come in and out throughout the afternoon—most not paying any mind to Touya as he works. there are a few customers that eye him hesitantly—and there are one or two that stare pointedly at the scars that split his face. it feels like second nature to drop the customer service persona then—and to do things like drop their change on the counter and revel in the way they scramble to catch it before it rolls off onto the floor.

“have the best day,” you say to one particularly rude customer, all but shooing her out of the door.

Touya huffs out a laugh when you walk back toward him. “didn’t think you had it in you, kid.”

you cock an eyebrow at him. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“surprised you didn’t kick out her kneecaps on the way out.”

“yeah, well,” you huff, waving a hand at the thought of someone so dreadfully rude, “she would’ve deserved it.”

“why’s that?”

you meet his eyes, then, and for the first time since you met him you think about the fact that they’ve seen terrible things. you knew of Touya, of course—all of Japan did. you knew he’d been through something awful and did things that you couldn’t imagine the man in front of you doing now. you know that he would not be surprised if you told him the reason why you felt she deserved it. you wonder if it bothers him the way it bothers you, or if time has hardened him to his own mistreatment.

“don’t worry about it,” you tell him, walking back behind the counter.

you haven’t seen much of Touya for the last few weeks.

you’d gotten another big order—what would probably be one of the last before winter really set in— so you were busy. he’d stop by sometimes with the excuse of checking the floor (and always with a tea for you in hand), but you learn that he’s uncomfortable with lingering, and he’s usually gone as quickly as he came.

you don’t mind—it’s nice to know he’s thinking of you. you’ve just been wondering if it’s in the way you want him to—and a lot more than you should be, lately.

you concede to having a little crush on him. who wouldn’t? he’s incredibly sweet in his own way and very nice to look at and you suppose anyone would if they’d gotten the opportunity to get to know him over the several months that you have. so what if you’re thinking about where he’s at or if he’s eaten lunch or if he’s at the bar without you, more often than not? it’s just a little secret you keep to yourself.

you try not to think about how it’s one that would make him never speak to you again if he found out about it.

you let out a groan, looking down at the half-formed bundle of alstroemeria and eucalyptus in your hands. you’d been staring at it for 20 minutes now and the motivation to continue just wasn’t coming. you suppose it was as good of a time as any to take a break.

standing up from the floor and stretching your arms above your head, your spine rewards you with a few satisfying pops as you get yourself moving again. your eyes scan the shop, surveying the damage—most of it caused by you in the last few weeks, with scraps of paper wrap and loose stems strewn about. the shop could definitely use a deep cleaning, but little things like that were just part of routine upkeep, so you don’t mind. it’s only when you roll out your neck that you spot it: a tiny, but noticeable, brown stain on the ceiling that certainly wasn’t there before. you lift your phone above your head to snap a picture of it.

sent 5:57pm>>> hi. do you think this is a big deal

received 5:59pm>>> looks like water damage

received 5:59pm>>> when did that happen?

sent 6:00 pm>>> not sure. just saw it

sent 6:00 pm>>> if i just pretend it’s not there will it go away?

received 6:01 pm>>> that ever worked for you before?

sent 6:04 pm>>> i don’t like your tone

received 6:06 pm>>> cry about it. i’ll be over to look at it tomorrow

you smile at his brashness, setting your phone down on the counter. it really was very hard to not be enamored by him. you shake your head, trying to get rid of the thought like a wrong answer in a magic 8 ball. you have no such luck, but you realize what time it is and feel relieved. It’s tuesday—you can finally start getting ready to see your family.

you clean up and pull on the spare coat you have in the shop storage room, locking the shop door behind you as you leave. your grandparents don’t live far—just a mile or so down the road, and it’s not too cold to walk yet, so you don’t mind the trek.

you have a standing weekly visit at your grandparents’ place. they’re just about the only family you have left, and they’re slowing down a bit. it’s meaningful to you to spend time with them when you can—even if your grandmother insists on filling it with her insistence that you find a boyfriend.

you know she means well, so you tolerate it. your grandparents’ love story is one for the ages—high school sweethearts, together and in love ever since. the dynamic is an amusing one—your grandmother, ever the chatterbox, and your grandfather, only ever amused and endeared by his wife’s inherent ability to take up space. you have always really admired their relationship, but a small part of you believed for a long time that there was something wrong with you for not being able to have the same thing. now that you’re older, you don’t feel that way—but that doesn’t make being on the receiving end of the badgering any easier.

like you’ve summoned her with your thoughts, she’s on the front stoop when you approach the house—hand already on her hip like she’s winding up to start her lecture.

“i was starting to think you wouldn’t come!”

“am i late?” you ask genuinely, pulling your phone out to check the time. 6:26pm—you’re early.

“you might as well be!” she quips, pulling you into a hug. you can smell dinner cooking through the open window behind her. you close your eyes, content to be held in the moment. you miss this feeling of home every time you leave—

“alright you old bat, s’fixed. you gotta quit dumping cooking oil down the—oh.”

your eyes snap open at the familiar voice and you find blue eyes staring back at you, shocked as you’ve ever seen them. you blink, still mid-embrace and trying to comprehend why Touya is standing in your grandmother’s doorway. or why he’s a little sweaty and dirty and wearing that tight old t-shirt. if he’s always worn a bandana to keep the hair out of his eyes, or if that’s a new thing and either way, why haven’t you seen it? it takes another long minute before you remember how to get words to come out of your mouth.

“i–uh. hi...hi Touya.” you stutter a little, and your grandmother notices that you’ve gone completely rigid in her arms. she pulls away to look at you, and then at Touya, and back to you—

and your stomach drops when you see the most shit eating grin spread across her face.

you give her your best you wouldn’t dare look.

she just smiles at you sweetly as if to say: i absolutely would.

“do you have dinner plans, Mr. Todoroki?”

he blinks. “i–uh–”

“no? excellent. go wash up! you can join us.”

she starts back up to the door with more pep in her step than you’ve seen in a long time, patting Touya’s shoulder before shoving him unceremoniously to the side with surprising strength and walking back into the house.

you’re left out there together, both clearly still trying to play catch up. true to your nature, you’re the first to break the silence.

“i see you’ve met my grandmother,” you say with a laugh, starting up the steps. he shakes himself in time to open the door for you.

“you’re related to that dinosaur?”

you pin him with your best glare. “that’s not nice. she came after the dinosaurs.”

he follows in after you, the smallest smirk on his face. that you caused it makes your chest feel light.

dinner is relatively tame. to your genuine surprise, your grandmother sticks to easy topics, save for one comment about how you’re “getting up there” and should start thinking about children.

“oh my god, Mam,” you squeeze the bridge of your nose, exasperated. you look to Touya for help—who is clearly very amused and not interested in saving you from this.

“i’m just saying,” you grandmother waves a dismissive hand at you, “now who wants dessert?”

you leave the house a few hours later—with Touya in tow, because he refused to let you walk home in the dark by yourself. you certainly don’t mind the company.

“i can’t believe i didn’t put it together that you knew my grandparents,” you say, shaking your head. no wonder those bread loaves, months ago now, had looked so familiar.

“been helpin’ them out with maintenance stuff around the house,” he mutters, the hands in his pockets the only indication that he feels the evening chill, “they’re good people.”

the way that he talks about them makes you feel warm. “i’m really happy to hear that,” you sigh. you bump into him, and he stays close. “i’m sorry you have to put up with all of my grandmother’s antics though.”

he huffs a laugh, looking at you from the corner of his eye, “s’not so bad. except maybe when she’s trying to arrange a marriage for me with half the town.”

“oh god,” you turn to him in absolute horror, “she does that to you, too? i thought it was just because i’m her grandkid. she really wants to have great grandkids.”

he laughs when you shudder. “what, you’re not gonna give ‘em to her?”

you make a face at that. “no. kids are great, just…not really something i ever wanted.”

you think you see him physically deflate with something akin to relief out of the corner of your eye. you smile and try not to read into it.

the wind picks up and you shiver. Touya blinks down at you.

“you didn’t think to wear a thicker coat?”

you roll your eyes pointedly at him. “no, dad, i didn’t.”

he scowls at you, clearly not entertained, but then he’s shrugging off his own jacket and draping it over your shoulders.

“what are you doing? it’s too cold!”

“s’fine,” he mutters, brushing up against you with each step, “can’t really feel it.”

you go quiet while you consider this, eyes drifting to the textured skin that wraps around his bicep. there’s an ache in your chest that flares up whenever you think about Touya, small and proud and burned within an inch of his life. you wonder if he still feels it, 30 some odd years later. you want to reach for him, but you think better of it.

“do they hurt still?” you ask quietly, after a moment.

“sometimes.”

you get the sense that he wouldn’t mind if you asked more, but you’re not sure what to say. you don’t think it would be fair to ask him to relive any of it to satisfy your own curiosity. there’s just one thing you’d still like to know.

“are you angry?”

he gives you a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes when he looks down at you. his gaze is searching, like he’s looking for your fear—fear of him, of what he’s done. you know he won’t find any.

“no.”

the rest of the walk home is shrouded in comfortable silence, save for the crunch of shoes against pavement. all too quickly you’re at the door to the shop again.

you dig for the keys for your apartment on the second floor while Touya leans against the door frame, watching you.

you feel the metal dig into your palm when you close your fist around them. you look back up at him, and it’s almost startling how soft he looks right now. unguarded.

“can i hug you?” you ask, startling yourself a little. he’s so clearly not a touchy guy, but you hope he’ll indulge you—just this once.

his eyes widen for a fraction of a second, and then his face smooths back into his practiced stoicism. he rolls his eyes, but steps forward anyway. you feel like you just won the lottery.

“make it quick, brat.”

you nearly tackle him in your excitement and you hear him grumble next to your ear. you feel an arm loop around your shoulders, and you are suddenly very aware that your little crush is far larger than you thought. you file it away for later, because the beat of his heart against your ear feels far more important right now. everything about him is warm—you stifle a sigh at the immediate comfort that rolls over you like a wave.

“now go inside before y’get sick.”

you resist the urge to pout. you stay there for another beat—and he doesn’t move either.

you untangle yourself from him with a sigh. if you didn’t know any better, you’d interpret the look on his face as something close to disappointment. you start shrug your shoulders out of his jacket to hand it back to him, but he stops you.

“just, ah—” he starts, looking away from you, “give it back to me tomorrow. when i fix your fuckin’ mess.”

you raise an eyebrow, posturing to argue, but something in his expression tells you not to.

“okay,” you say finally, quiet between you, “be careful going home. goodnight, Touya.”

he lingers for a moment more before letting out a little grunt and turning on his heel. your eyes trail over the expanse of his shoulders as he grows fainter down the road until he disappears into the dark.

you drag yourself up the stairs, suddenly feeling exhausted. you stumble through the dark of your apartment until your knees knock into your bed frame. you fall into bed face first, not bothering to change or even get under the covers. still wrapped in the jacket that smells like him.

you dream of fire that warms but doesn’t burn.

“good morning, Mr. Todoroki.”

Touya nearly comes out of his skin, hissing as he hits his head off of the counter he’s crouched under. it would be impressive, how stealthy the old bat was, if it wasn’t so god damned annoying.

“how many times do i have to tell you not to call me that?” he grumbles, rubbing the sore spot on the back of his head as he gets to his feet. she only chuckles.

“you’ll have to forgive me for not addressing you with the same familiarity that my granddaughter does.”

he whips his head around to look at her—which he finds to be a mistake, because she’s just looking at him with that knowing old lady smirk that makes his skin itch.

“don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” he mutters, stooping down to lodge himself as far under the counter as he needs to to avoid the rest of this conversation.

“oh, please. do i look like i was born yesterday?”

he pauses, mid crouch, to look back at her over his shoulder. she clicks her tongue at him. “don’t answer that.”

“i think it would be nice for you both to have…companionship,” she settles on the last word like it’s not really what she wanted to say, and it reminds him far too much of his mother. usually he’d shut this conversation down, but for a reason unknown to him, he doesn’t.

“don’t y’think i’m a little too old for her?” he asks, half-joking. he’d be a liar to say that he hadn’t thought about it at length.

she waves a dismissive hand at him, rolling her eyes. “oh please—you wouldn’t know too old if it hit you upside the head.”

he hides another smirk from her—which she seems to expect anyway, shaking her head with a sigh.

“you’re both babies still,” she says quietly, with all of the wisdom and yearning of someone who has lived as long as she has, “you have nothing but time. just don’t waste it.”

Touya’s not sure when the shift happened, but he’s acutely aware that it has happened.

he’s doesn’t know when he started allowing you to touch him. he’s usually uncomfortable with that sort of thing—it tends to aggravate his skin and it does well to make him feel queasy. but you lay your arm over his to show him something about your flowers on your phone, and he doesn’t feel any urge to reel back from you. he wants to be surprised at his lack of reaction, but he supposes he’s not—proximity to him has always been something you’ve insisted on, physical or otherwise.

the bar is crowded tonight, which leaves him feeling uneasy. the noise level grates at his nerves and he finds himself having to lean into you just to hear what you’re saying. it sours his mood immensely.

he’s scowling into his beer when he feels you crowd his space. his head snaps up, ready to gripe at you, and he finds you’re turned away from him. he looks around you and sees that your space has been crowded—by some rowdy little punk he’s never seen before.

immediately and on some sort of primal instinct, Touya wraps an arm around you, yanking you into his side. you brace yourself with a hand on his chest to avoid flat out headbutting his chin.

“hey,” he snarls over your head, eyes like daggers at the offender, “watch where you’re fuckin’ going.”

the man turns around, posturing to defend himself, but one look at Touya has his eyes widening in the same expression of fear that he sees on everyone else’s face. usually the reaction sits in his stomach like a rock, but this time, he revels in it. “and while you’re at it, you can apologize to her.”

his looks down at the ground immediately, unwilling to spend another minute under scrutiny.

“sorry about that,” he mutters dejectedly. Touya feels your grip tighten around the hem of his shirt, but to his surprise, you say nothing.

“get the fuck out of here,” he barks, and he holds back a laugh as the man does just that—completely forgetting about the drink he ordered.

shaking his head, he lets you go—expecting you to scramble away from him and back to your stool. he feels himself cringe—he probably embarrassed you.

he’s worried when he realizes you’re still tethered to him by the fabric of his shirt.

“hey,” he murmurs, trying to push you back gently to look at your face, “you alright, kid? you’re not hurt, are you?”

you let go of him, albeit reluctantly. you only move back far enough to tilt your head back to meet his eyes. he can only think of how close you are.

“Touya,” you rasp, cheeks flushed and looking at him through half-hooded eyes, “that was, um—really hot.”

he blinks at you, a little dumbfounded. his eyes rake over your face, trying to find the punchline somewhere. wholly anticipating you to snap out of it and laugh at him—to tell him what a fool he is for falling for such a cruel joke.

but your expression never changes, and he realizes at once that it’s one of desire.

a shudder wracks up his spine. he pulls you toward him again, splaying his fingers across your back to feel the way it arches into him. he dips his head down, lips next to your ear. fighting a smirk at the way you shiver in his hold.

“come back to mine?”

you nod emphatically, and he’d tease you about it if he wasn’t feeling the same level of urgency. he throws a couple bills on the bar top and all but hauls you out the door. he has no idea what he’s doing, but he’s half out of his mind right now and can’t find it within himself to think it over before he does something he might regret.

his own desire is nearly stifling, and he finds he can’t go another minute without something to satiate him, if only for a moment. he pulls you into the alley next to the bar, crowding you against the brick.

“you drunk?” he asks suddenly—slivers of rationality making it through the haze of such thick lust. you laugh a little, breathy and overwhelmed. he can see the puff of steam from your exhale between you in the cold.

“not at all,” you murmur, reaching for him. you wrap a finger around one of his belt loops and pull him toward you—he knows with an unsettling certainty that he’d do whatever you asked him to right now. the knowledge burns him from the inside.

“tell me to stop,” his lips are only a breath away from yours, and yet he almost wishes you would tell him to stop, because he’s not sure what comes after this. he’s alarmed by the weight of his own need, and he has a hunch that whatever happens next may not be enough to quell it.

he has the sudden and sobering thought that he may never get his fill of you.

“no,” you breathe, and it’s all he needs to bridge the distance. he’s instantly overwhelmed by the soft warmth of your mouth, and lets out a quiet groan when he feels your tongue swipe at the seam of his. he opens his mouth to taste more of you, and he truly cannot get enough. you pull his tongue into your mouth, sucking on it gently, and he is nearly frantic when he pulls away from you. he feels absolutely debauched and a little humiliated—in his 40-some odd years, he’s never known himself to get so worked up over some kissing.

“we need to go right now,” he rasps, panting against your mouth. he feels your smile against him and wants to swallow you whole.

“lead the way, old man.”

he barely registers making it through the door—has no idea how he managed to unlock it, let alone open it—before he has you pressed up against it. to touch you like this feels foreign, and he wants to feel everything. after a moment, he gets impatient with himself. he grabs you around the backs of your thighs, hauling you up and carrying you to his bedroom. he has half a mind to thank Buck later, for not bounding between the two of you and ripping him from whatever trance you have him suspended in right now.

he drops you onto the bed unceremoniously and is quick to follow, mouth chasing yours on the way down. you pull your shirt off and he helps you with your pants—he can’t help but pull back to marvel at you.

your demeanor changes immediately.

you're entirely too tense, breath hitching and your grip on his arms uncomfortably tight. he pulls back to look at you and you flinch.

“jesus—the fuck are you so jumpy for?”

"i don't know!" you cross your arms over your chest with a huff, red when you look away from him. "maybe i just don't do this as often as you, okay?"

he snorts, rolling his eyes. "i don't do this often."

it’s not exactly the truth—because the truth is that he doesn't do this at all—but he's still got his pride. he’d been touched before, but mostly in his 20s and only when he was just shy of belligerent. only when he could go numb with the certainty that it would be over quickly and that he wouldn’t remember it in the morning.

no one could hold a flame to you, though—sprawled out underneath him, chest heaving and eyes hooded with unbridled desire. something about it makes him want to reach into the ether and stop time with his bare hands. he wants to savor every bead of sweat that rolls down the curve of your breast, every touch that makes your pupils dilate—the primal need to know takes over everything else.

“i just…” you start, lip jutting out with the tiniest pout. he feels insane. “i feel nervous.”

something inside him twists at your admission, and he finds himself wanting to comfort you. it’s a completely unfamiliar feeling, but he leans into it.

"relax," he murmurs, unwinding your arms and replacing them with his full body weight, directly on top of you. you squeak, and he presses his smile into the crook of your neck. "don't have to do anything you're not ready for."

he feels you slump underneath him—however minutely—and it feels like a reward. and then your hips kick into his, and his brain short circuits.

he pushes back onto his forearms to look at you, and he's endeared by the flush that creeps up your neck as you avoid his gaze. he finds it cute, how quickly you lay your ego down for him. that in itself is another reward, and one he doesn't take lightly.

you might be a little embarrassed under his stare, but that doesn't stop the roll of your hips. yours is a slow grind up into him and he meets you with one of his own, firm and demanding. your mouth drops open and the way you shudder under him pulls a groan from him.

"feel good?" he rasps, sneaking a hand around the back of your neck and holding you there, nosing against your cheek until you turn to him.

"yes."

it's borderline pornographic when it leaves you and his hips stutter—he feels it buzzing underneath his skin as it pushes him closer to a place wholly unfamiliar.

through his jeans, he's sure you can feel him—hot and aching against the flimsy material of your panties. he huffs a laugh against your lips—suddenly acutely aware of the possibility that he may cum in his pants like a fucking teenager.

you seem to be aware of that, too.

you kiss him hard and he nearly whines, and then he actually does when you tangle your fingers in his hair and pull. he reels back from you to catch his breath and you don't let him go very far.

"you feel so good," murmured into his mouth, it's nearly his undoing.

"you gotta stop," it sounds a lot like a plea when it leaves him, "i can't—i'm gonna—”

you hook a leg around his waist, keeping him pressed to you. he knows at once that he is well and truly fucked in a fundamental and totally unrelated way.

"no," you drawl, and it's almost a coo in his ear, "i don't think i will."

he doesn't know when you took the upper hand and he doesn't even care. he's lost in the movement of your hips and he knows that there's a mess between you both—he hears the tacky click of damp fabric meeting with every grind into you.

"you're—fuckin' wet," he grits out, and he's so close. the knowledge of your arousal has him curling in on himself.

you chuckle, like he's stating something so obvious. "how could i not be?"

he rewards you with a particularly sinful thrust, and you keen underneath him.

"please," you arch into him, "want you to cum."

and he does just that—all the breath is battered out of him with the force of it. his cock throbs with every wave of release in his jeans and he keeps himself pressed snuggly to you, hips thrusting with no particular rhythm as he rides out the last of it. he keeps his face pressed into your neck and lets out a long, broken groan. he stays there—full body weight collapsed on top of you again—and it's a moment before he comes back to his senses enough to feel your fingers scratch over his scalp.

"fucking hell," he presses a kiss to your throat and you giggle. it warms something inside of him that's hard to shake once it starts. he has the sneaking suspicion—in this fleeting moment of vulnerability—that it started well before now.

he gathers his wits and pushes back from you. he sees the look on your face and finds that he couldn't go any farther than an arm's length away, even if he tried.

adoration. it could only be that—you look at him like he hung the stars in the sky, and it twists in his gut. he doesn't understand—he's done so many wrong things. you look at him like they don't hang above his head—like you can't see them there.

what a sweet little thing that's found their way into his bed. and deeper than that, it seems.

"want to taste you," he murmurs, leaning back down to drag his lips over the curve of your jaw. you draw in a shuddering breath, nodding, and it fans his ego immensely.

he takes his time, then—there's intention behind every warm press of his mouth to every inch of your skin. he takes note of the way your breath hitches, and of what makes you squirm. you tip your head back with a moan when he catches a bead of sweat between the valley of your breasts with his tongue.

you breathe out a whisper of his name when he latches on to the skin that stretches over your ribs, and he feels his own arousal swell again—sloshing around in his gut, thick and needing. he finds himself grinding his hips into the mattress below him—lazy, really. just enough to dull the ache.

"hold on," you croak, and he looks up at you, "you’re too dressed."

he looks down at himself and realizes that you’re right—he’s still fully clothed. he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head at his own one track mind, and sits up to take care of it.

he grabs the back of his t-shirt and pulls it over his head in a fluid motion. he feels your gaze on him and feels a little bashful. he’s even quicker with the jeans—soiled and gross as they are now—shoving them down his hips and kicking them from his ankles until his clad in only his (also gross) boxers and leaning over you again.

you reach for him, brushing your fingertips over the scar across his chest. he half expects you to pull away—to recoil from him like you should—but you don’t.

“need you, Touya.”

he could just die.

"s'that right?" he bends down to press another hot kiss to the skin that stretches between your hips. he fixates on the softness of it, and has to stop himself from nuzzling into it. he'd love to draw this out—to really get you pleading for him like he hopes you would, writhing and so wet underneath him. but his own patience nears its end, so he decides to be merciful. he shuffles down until he's eye level with the damp spot in your panties that makes him curse under his breath.

"look at you," he breathes, dragging a finger through the mess. you let out a whine, arching to chase what little stimulation he's giving you. "poor thing. y'really do need it."

he doesn't wait for your response before his hooking a finger through the fabric and dragging it off of you. a string of your arousal stretches and snaps with it, and he commits the sight to memory.

he wastes no time—he sticks his tongue out flat and drags it through your folds, groaning at the slick that coats it.

"oh fuck," you wheeze, reaching down to thread your fingers through his hair to keep him there.

as if you'd ever need to do that.

he can't get enough of you. so swollen and sweet against his tongue, he's nearly out of his mind with the need for more of it. he dips the tip of his tongue inside you and feels you squeeze around it, and it's unbearable how badly he wants more of you.

"Touya," you groan out, eyes squeezed shut tight as he pulls your clit into his mouth and sucks, "please—please don't stop—"

he thinks you're fucking insane for ever believing he would. he pulses his tongue against your clit and revels in the way your back arches as you wail—he reaches up to pinch a pebbled nipple between his heated fingers just to feel you.

"oh fuck, fuck fuck—" the words tumble out of your mouth, slurred and nearly incoherent as he flattens out his tongue and lets you chase your pleasure.

in the throes of it, you reach down to tangle your fingers between his own. he's not sure if you even know that you've done it, but the knowledge that you seek him out for such an innocent display comfort has his heart fluttering in his chest. he gives your nipple a particularly harsh tug with his other hand.

"oh i'm gonna cum—" you cry, hips stuttering with every drag of your sex over his tongue, "please, Touya, i'm gonna—"

he squeezes your fingers when you do, and you let out a sob that goes straight to his cock. he feels you tense up—every muscle rigid for only a moment—and then you let it go, and he's mesmerized. it moves through you violently, like waves crashing into the shore during a storm. he keeps your clit between his lips as you thrash, letting you buck against his face, dragging it out for as long as he can.

he waits until he hears your breathing return to a semi-normal pace before he cleans you up—with his tongue, light and gentle through your folds, not wanting to waste any of the mess you reward him with. he forgets himself and slips his tongue inside of you—drinking up all of your slick. basking in the way you flutter around him and the sweet slide of you down his throat. he only comes back to himself when you start to tremble, whining at the overstimulation.

he rests his head on the inside of your thigh and closes his eyes, breathing you in. never in his life has he ever felt so satiated by something—it confuses him, to get so much pleasure from you without you ever even touching him. he feels you squeeze his fingers and realizes he's still holding your hand.

"you with me, kid?"

you sigh, stretching your free leg out. "think so, old man."

he untangles your fingers to rub at your leg, reaching down to knead at the muscles in your calf. you sigh, light and content, and it makes him smile. it's quiet between you then, and he's grateful that you don't feel the need to fill it. he pulls your leg over his shoulder, moving to massage the outside of your thigh.

"good to me," you sigh sleepily, and he knows you're only a second from falling asleep.

he doesn't answer—his throat suddenly feels too thick and he doesn't think he can—he just keeps rubbing your muscles gently until your breathing evens out.

he finds that he doesn't mind being trapped between your legs like this. when he thinks he might even be able to fall asleep, he realizes for the second time that he's in far deeper than he thought he'd be.

he lets his eyes flutter closed and has a hard time thinking of anything wrong with that.

there’s another shift, after that. the only person that seems to be oblivious to it is you.

it’s not that you haven’t noticed, because of course you have. Touya becomes uncharacteristically touchy, literally overnight. you bask in it when you can, because you know it’s fleeting.

that’s where you split off from, well—everyone else.

“c’mon kid, you can’t honestly think that.”

you huff, glaring into your drink. Touya’s friends had jumped at the opportunity to heckle you the minute he stood up to go to the restroom. you find it endearing, the way they act like little old ladies, gossiping amongst themselves.

“we’re not together,” you repeat, albeit bitterly, “it’s not like that for him.”

the friend closest to you barks out a laugh, and you pin him with your meanest stare. it only makes him laugh harder. he’s wiping tears from his eyes when Touya comes back, filling the space between you.

it hurts tremendously to know that this is temporary, and you feel ridiculous for feeling that way. it’s not like it comes as a surprise—you knew very well that Touya wasn’t one for romance or love. you thought you could live with that, especially with the sex being as good as it is—but it was just so easy to believe the opposite was true, because he really was good to you. if you allowed yourself to forget, it was nothing at all to pretend he was because he wanted this, too.

still—like a magnet, you’re drawn to him. you hop down from your stool to stand beside his, and rest your head on his shoulder.

“you hungry?,” he turns to murmur into your hair, “i’ll get you fries or somethin’.”

“wow, fries” you scoff, rolling your eyes, “how chivalrous.”

you feel him grin. “wasn’t raised in a barn.”

it’s a bad joke. it lodges itself in your skin and makes you ache for him. you try not to dwell on it.

“you could’ve fooled me.”

he rolls his eyes back at you with a little tch, but it’s lighthearted. he slings his arm around your neck and pulls you closer until you’re pressed into the warmth of his side, and presses a kiss to your temple.

“you know, most men would give up their seats for pretty women.” you tease, leaning into his touch.

“let me know if you see one, then.”

“hey!”

he laughs, brushing his lips against your forehead again before leaning back, patting his thigh.

“c’mon then, pretty lady.”

you feel warm as you climb up into his lap, and when you settle in, it’s like a key inside of a lock. you pointedly ignore the knowing glance from the man to your right, choosing instead to feel every inch that connects you to Touya. it feels like a reward, to mold to him this well—like something you’re owed after trimming off every one of his prickly little thorns for as long as you have. you want to tell him so, but you know he’d clam up or shove you off of him. you keep your feelings where they simmer under your skin and focus on the way his hand trails over the curve of your hip—back and forth, like he means to soothe, but his warmth feels like a brand. you close your eyes and imagine a reality in which he does it because he loves you.

“you alright?”

it sounds odd, coming from him—like he’s not used to asking the question. you suppose he’s not—he’s never had anyone to check up on. he reaches to brush a strand of hair from your face, and his fingers linger over your brow bone.

you’d been quiet since you left the bar—you’d followed him back to his house with an uncharacteristically little amount of banter. you’d been pliant as he pulled you down on the bed with him—nearly boneless and without so much as a teasing bite on the way down.

despite yourself, you feel your eyes start to burn. you let out a clipped curse, blinking rapidly and looking pointedly away from him—hoping he wouldn’t press you about it.

he does.

“hey, hey,” he says softly, reaching to grab your chin with warm, calloused fingers and turning you to face him, “what’s goin’ on?”

his blatant concern makes it worse—drives the knife a little deeper into your side—because it’s so starkly different (and far more intimate) from the Touya you started with. it only serves as a reminder of your original suspicion having long been confirmed—that he cares for you because he’s good. not because he loves you. not because he feels this unbearable, aching need that you do. you know there’s no escaping him now—he’s seeded himself somewhere deep in your chest and taken root. when his thumb brushes down over the curve of your jaw, you know that there’s no stopping the words that are about to come out of your mouth.

“i love you,” the tears crest and fall, and you ache when he brushes them away before they can slip down your temples, “i’m really sorry.”

you’re a little surprised when you see his eyebrows knit together slightly in an emotion that’s definitely not the overt and immediate dismay you thought it would be, but you close your eyes before you can see anything else—before you can watch him pull away from you, genuinely and for the last time.

you go rigid when you feel his forehead knock into yours, gently and only for an instant.

“s’that such a bad thing?”

your eyes snap open, and you think the sight might kill you—he’s open and giving you everything with a willingness that makes your breath stutter in your chest. he has his head propped up on his hand to look at you, and it’s almost enough to disarm you completely.

“don’t be cruel if you’re going to leave,” you hear yourself plead, despite what you’re seeing. he only snorts.

“and what makes you so sure i’ll do that?”

“i know that you don’t do this shit.”

he smiles at that—a little thing that stretches across his face slow. it amuses him to hear you swear.

“you’re right,” he murmurs, reaching to brush his fingers over your jaw again. holding you there so gently that it aches. “i don’t. s’different now, though.”

you blink at him through the sting in your eyes, more confused than anything. he lets out a slow sigh, but it’s not in frustration.

“you’re stuck to me now,” he says with such a fondness that you feel the words stick themselves to your bones, “m’not going anywhere.”

“i’m not trapping you here, Touya—“

“you’re not,” he agrees, with more patience than he’s ever afforded you. something starts to click in your mind, but for some reason, you find yourself fighting it.

“you don’t—you’re not—“

“hey,” he cuts you off with a flick to your forehead, “listen to what i’m tellin’ you.”

“it’s…hard. for me.” he says after thinking for a moment, eyebrows furrowed again like he’s trying to make up the words from scratch. “i‘m used to bein’ alone. never really thought about anybody else.”

you’re silent then, mostly stunned, because you don’t think he’s ever said so many words to you. not like this.

“i’m outta my depth here, kid,” it’s nearly whispered and it feels sacred, like a confession between you. you’re suddenly very aware that he’s giving you something that he’s parting with for the first time in his life. “but i can’t think about ya anywhere but here now. makes me feel a little sick.”

you reach for him then—tentative fingertips brushing over the rapid fluttering of his heart. he gathers them in his hand and holds you there.

“i might not be any good at this. but i’d like to try.”

his words hit your ears one at a time, like coins slotted into a carnival game—they reach your mind with a heavy clink and only when the last one drops in do you really hear him. he’s no casanova, but you understand the sentiment under his words as if he’d spoken it aloud.

you close your eyes and draw in one more shuddering breath, and it knocks loose the last of your reservations. you turn on your side, facing him fully, meeting the blue of his eyes with a slow smile that makes them narrow at you in suspicion.

“jeez. you didn’t have to go all soft on me.”

he scoffs, shaking his head. “glad to have you back, you fuckin’ brat.”

you laugh and he chases the sound, leaning forward until your foreheads knock together again. this time, he stays put.

“tell me again,” he murmurs, and your heart balloons inside your chest.

“i love you.”

epilogue—1 year later

Touya trudges up the steps to your apartment after finishing up at your grandparents’. you’d think he’d agreed to remodel the whole house, with how often they call him over now.

he had a hunch that he wasn’t really there just to make repairs, and he didn’t mind. he knew how much your family meant to you, and he’d be lying if he said they weren’t growing on him, too.

“you bring our girl over here to see us,” the old bat called after him as he walked out the door, “don’t let her work herself to death.”

he was quick to agree, because his concerns were similar—you’d gotten busy as the weather started to warm with the first hint of spring, and you did not appear to be particularly skilled at taking breaks or prioritizing yourself. predictable, but no less annoying.

walking up the steps to the home you now share, he looks down at the squirming thing in his arms and lets out a sigh.

it didn’t take much convincing for him to agree to move in. he got to see you everyday (which allowed him to ensure you were, at the very least, feeding yourself) and Buck was over the moon at living in a new space if that meant he could be with you all the time. he couldn’t find a reason to say no (and he really, really didn’t want to), so it was easy to say yes. the smile you gave him when he agreed is imprinted on his heart.

“babe? you here?”

you call to him in response from the kitchen, not looking up at him when he walks in—you’re hunched over the counter in front of your laptop, going through orders while Buck lays at your feet. he makes no move to greet Touya—in fact, the only acknowledgement Buck spares him is a few thuds of his tail against the tile. Touya narrows his eyes at him. traitor.

“hi,” you murmur, turning your body like you’re going to look at him—except you don’t actually look away from the computer.

“hi,” he grins, not moving in to kiss you like he usually does. waiting for you to turn to him.

“what did Mam need—oh.”

you’re finally looking at him—except you’re not really looking at him at all, because your eyes are focused on the shivering thing in his arms.

you look at it, and to him, and then back to it. you’re quiet for a beat, clearly trying to process, and then the thing nearly jumps out of his arms when you throw your head back and laugh.

“what the hell is that—” you say through a wheeze, wiping your eyes on your sleeve, “Touya—oh my god—where did you get that?”

you close the proximity between you—finally, he thinks—and he bends to kiss your temple when you take the chihuahua from his arms. instantly Buck is on his feet, sniffing the air but otherwise content just to look at the dog in your arms. Touya feels relief at the non-reaction—you really had taught his dog some manners.

“the fuckin’ thing was rooting around in the trash,” he mutters, slinging an arm around your shoulders, “figured you’d be mad at me if i left ‘im there.”

you roll your eyes and he knows you know it’s a lie—he wouldn’t have been able to sleep if he’d left the dog there.

“are we keeping him?” you ask absentmindedly, scratching his tiny head. it works to subdue him—the shaking stops (mostly) and he lets out a little huff before relaxing in your hold. it makes you smile, and Touya thinks he’d fill this whole fucking house with chihuahuas if it meant he could see it again.

“do y’want to?”

you let out a stray chuckle, finally looking up at him. “i guess he’d fit, won’t he?”

he feels the grin stretch across his face. “i don’t know. it’d be a tight squeeze.”

you snort, reaching with your free hand to poke at his ribs. “you have to name him, you know.”

“fuck,” he groans dramatically, pulling another giggle from you, “fine. what about…” he trails off, wracking his brain and looking around the kitchen, praying for even a semblance of inspiration. he sees your half-eaten lunch on the counter, and he thinks about the moldy cold cut he’d had to wrestle out of the little shit’s surprising tight grip—

“lunch meat.”

“...i’m sorry?”

“his name is lunch meat.”

you laugh at that, and the sound reverberates off every cell in his body.

“it’s a good thing we’re not having kids,” you say through a giggle, “they’d have the worst names.”

he grins at you and you just shake your head, cooing to the tiny dog in your arms. Touya peels himself from you, settling against the counter just to watch. the other surprise—the one he’d actually planned—involved a fancy dinner in the next town over, because it is your anniversary, after all—but right now it feels like he has nothing but time, and to do anything but stand here and feel every second with you would feel like a waste.

this fic belongs to me (@gardenofnoah). i do not allow anyone to repost, edit, or reproduce this work.

#am i....a sap?#i love him. oh my god do i love him #my baby deserves a good fucking ending #glares at horikoshi #todoroki touya x you #dabi x reader #todoroki touya x reader #touya fluff #touya x reader #fic: when fire doesn't burn

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wheatnoodle · 11 months

Text

i love you, evangeline

og post | p1 | p2 | p3 | p4

~🌷🌻~

“evie, babe, darling, my love. you gotta stop stressing so much. dustin’s going to like whatever you make, everything you cook is great. you’re going to pace holes into the floor and we won’t get our security deposit back,” robin says and places her hands on evie’s shoulders. the girl’s been panicking over the pasta on the stovetop, having already restarted her sauce for the third time now.

“i- i know, i know. but it’s not…about the food, robs,” evie says and tips her head back to face the ceiling once she feels tears welling behind her eyes. she can’t let her mascara run. it’s expensive.

“honey, hey,” robin is snatching a napkin off the counter to dab at evie’s waterline, her other hand cupping her face. “dustin is going to love you, no matter what. do you know how long he’s been waiting for this day? every time i see or talk to him, it’s all ‘where’s steve why are you hiding him is he dead can i see him’. he’s going to be over the moon.”

“that’s just it, robin. he misses steve and i’m not him. what if he’s disappointed, or disgusted, or he hates me, or he won’t accept it? oh my god, i don’t know if i can do this,” she can feel her breathing picking up and robin is instantly placing her hands on her shoulders.

“okay, no, hey, we’re not going to do that. we are not panicking. everything is going to go amazing. nothing bad is going to happen. you just finished a glass of wine, your emotions are gettin’ high, you are okay. we are okay. let’s breathe, yeah?” slowly, she guides evie through deep breaths, rubbing her shoulders all throughout. after a few moments, evie shuts her eyes, a sigh of relief leaving her body and her shoulders dropping. she pulls robin into a hug.

“you’re right. everything’s okay. thanks,” she mumbles into her shoulder.

“anytime. now, get out of your head, dingus. if you burn this sauce, i’m not letting you start over again,” robin smirks and pulls back to finish her setting of the small kitchen table.

just as she finishes lighting the candles in the center of the table, there’s a knock to the tune of “skunk in the barnyard”. robin’s head snaps over to evie, seeing the girl freeze just as she was about to fill their glasses.

“okay…here we go,” robin whispers and walks to the door. she pulls it open, stepping in the doorway to greet the kid, well adult, on the other side. “dustin!”

“robin!” dustin answers her cheer, wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug that’s got her feet off the ground.

“oh my god, i’ve missed you so much. when did you grow?!” robin laughs once he puts her down and they pull back to look each other in the eye.

“everyone keeps asking me that! i’ve missed you too,” he smiles and she can still see the kid he used to be. “also, what on earth is that smell because if i don’t get to consume whatever that is immediately, things may get violent.”

“that, me dear nerd, would be ms evangeline’s cooking awaiting us inside,” she smiles proudly, tilting her chin back as she prepares herself. she steps out of the way to let him in.

“dude, you didn’t tell me she can cook too! and you mean you haven’t proposed to her-“ dustin freezes as he’s about halfway through the entryway, the table in view. evie stands up straight, her cheeks tinging pink as her nerves spiked.

“dustin…” evie says softly, her voice wavering just slightly. she watches as he looks her all over. from her long, loosely curled hair, to the sparkly earrings and her makeup, pausing briefly on her figure, before going back to her face. “hey.”

“oh my god…” dustin breathes out and he’s moving in an instant. he rushes forward and his arms are tight around her waist, squeezing hard. “oh my god! oh my god, you’re alive.”

“i’m alive. i’m here,” she sniffles, one arm going around his neck, the other ruffling his hair. she doesn’t bother to fight her own tears this time when she feels and hears dustin crying in her shoulder.

“i can’t believe you’re you. holy shit,” he cries out years of waiting, years of wondering, years of confusion and betrayal. he’s so…relieved. “i missed you.”

“i missed you too, kid. fuck, i missed you.” they hold on for a few more minutes, not a word shared before dustin decides to pull back. his face is red and tear stained but he has a smile evie hasn’t seen since eddie woke up in the hospital.

“you look so good! ohohoh this is amazing!” dustin gushes, giggling excitedly. robin’s leaning against the counter with a huge smile and tears of her own she’s not so subtly trying to wipe away.

“really? you’re…okay with this?” evie asks, every ounce of insecurity dripping into her voice as she looks down at herself.

“are you kidding me? dude, i love you. every form of you. i thought you died! oh shit, should i not call you dude?” dustin pauses, eyes wide and a hand coming to cover his mouth.

“what? oh, no! dude’s fine,” she clarifies, a bit awkward.

robin snorts and walks closer, taking her own turn in ruffling dustin’s hair. “trust, she’ll let you know when somethings not.”

“so…does this mean i can stay here instead of the hotel?” dustin glances between them with his best puppy eyes.

robin and evie look over at each other, a quick silent conversation. “well i guess you can,” evie says dramatically and drops into her seat at the table.

she hides her smile behind her wine glass at dustin’s whoop of excitement.

~🌷🌻~

taggie waggies:

@lololol-1234 @xo-r4e @paintsplatteredandimperfect @homohomohoe @charlies-candid-corner @tartarusfairy @howincrediblysapphicofyou @steddie-as-they-go @bestwifehaver @sexymothmanincarnate @zoeweee @romanticdestruction @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @breadboi66 @shadowofaliar @mollymawkwrites @lofaewrites @estrellami-1 @ronance-is-my-wife @afewproblems @heartsong18 @discount-izukumidoriya @mightbeasleep @bookbinderbitch @justforthedead89 @onehandedbitch @anxiouseds @sunfloweringstories @cyranyx @thegingerrapunzel @hequet @herebedragons404 @magpiemuseum @scheodingers-muppet @the-ghost-in-your-curtains @background-noise-headache @steddieloverrr @punctualhowell @musical-theatre-gay

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happy-beeeps · 4 months

Text

Naïveté

Summary: Astarion begins to reconcile with the fact he might have fallen for you, only to worry you've caught an interest in someone else. Earllllllly act 2, minor spoilers for act 2!

Pairing: Astarion x f!tav

Warnings/tags: fluff, miscommunication if you squint, jealous!astarion, platonic!wyll x tav, slightly ooc Astarion because I'm still learning to write him so be nice PLEASE😭🥺

WC: 2k

a/n: I'm finishing a character sheet for tav so we can have her backstory, but she's who I've been using this playthrough and I've been really enjoying her story. When I post on Ao3 she'll have a name, but I'm going to leave her unnamed here! Also, will have a seperate BG3 spot on my masterlist soon!

It’s late at camp, and by the time you finish indulging in a bottle of wine with Karlach, you figure you’re the only one still up. It’s been a long night, and an even longer few days, spent trudging through the grimy depths of the Shadowcursed lands and just barely making it out of the encounter with Marcus alive. Isobel had given you the ability to travel freely, but all you could do was set up camp near the inn.

The firelight is dim when you make your way back from the secluded spot near Karlach’s tent, and Astarion’s tent is sealed tightly. You contemplate going over, just peaking your head in to see if he’s deep in trance yet, but you change your mind. After your previous night’s conversation, you’re still not sure on speaking terms. It plays out over and over again in your mind. Naive, he’d called you, your heart was too big.

You tried to be reasonable. You were naive. You were young, and perhaps no one but Wyll new exactly how young. To be ninety as an elf was to be just becoming an adult. No one else had known, no else had asked, including Astarion. You chalked it up to his truly immortal lifespan, he hadn’t cared about aging for 200 years, why start now?

Still, you couldn’t deny the pull you felt to him, or the thrill that shook your bones when he would quietly rush into your tent each morning, murmuring the incantation for lesser restoration. You still thought of the way he looked at Gale when he asked to consume that locket all those days back. “I’m glad you let him suffer for a moment, darling,” he’d murmured into your ear that night, his breath tingly on your neck, “That one’s ours.”

There’d been other nights since your first night together, while you hadn’t slept together in completion since, all passion and teeth and sweat. Sometimes you’d just kiss him, wrapped up in nothing else but this bliss of arms and scent. Lately though, he’d been closed off—distant. His conversation the previous night had come out of nowhere, as if you were standing on the doorstep of Moonrise Towers that very instant.

You were so lost in your own thoughts, consumed of Astarion, that you nearly missed Wyll’s form standing near the dimming fire, moving around in a dance you actually recognized.

“I hope I’m not interrupting practice,” you smiled, giving the man ample warning before you stumbled into his rehearsal.

Wyll wheeled on you, a faint blush growing across his cheeks. “It’s one of those old courting dances, it’d be a cold day in the hells before I’d ever forget them.”

“Oh I’m quite familiar,” you murmured, thinking back to your own youth, your own debutante ball, before you lost everything. “Everyone else around here forgets I come from taste.”

Wyll snorts, “Sure don’t smell like it.”

Your friendship with Wyll is a special thing. No one else can understand what it felt like to be from a Noble family, the expectations and the experience it comes with. When your family had been killed and their wealth assumed, you were completely on your own. Learning how to pickpockets and lie had not been a part of your expensive and tasteful education.

Dancing, however, came second nature.

You move to stand in front of him without really thinking, decades of experience guiding your motions. “Go on, let’s see what you can do.”

He’s a fine partner, moving cautiously around you and guiding your hand easily. Even when he brings you closer for a slightly more intimate dance, his hands nor his eyes never stray.

“I wonder what I’d have done if I ever saw you at one of the balls my father sent me too.” He murmurs.

“I’m certain you did. Though you would’ve been young. I haven’t been in nearly a decade.”

He chuckles, and clucks his tongue for a moment, “Just practically a baby, far to young to approach Fey nobility.” Before bowing in front of you and wishing you goodnight. There’s the smallest beat where he looks at you as if he has something to say. You look at him for the smallest moment. It would be so easy to love him, if you were anyone else. He’s exactly who your father would have picked for you, save his humanity. But, despite it, you can’t. You can’t fake the flutter you get when you Astarion’s cold hands tickle your fingers, or the tickle of his hair on your cheek when he’s pressed against your neck. You’re not naive enough to admit this to Astarion, but from the fleeting glance you send to his tent, you can see that Wyll already knows. He leaves you with a knowing glance and a soft goodnight. You go back to your own tent, happy to have removed the thought of the curse, of Ketheric, and even of your own problems for just a moment.

So full of contentedness in fact, you don’t notice the scarlet eyes peering at you from the slat of their tent, a whirlwind of emotions cascading over them.

* * *

Astarion doesn’t hide his mild disdain for Wyll, or anyone to be fair, to begin with, but the following morning he bears down on the man like an ogre. “I didn’t anticipate you being quite so light on your feet. The Blade stands at the ready, and also ready to pirouette, I suppose?”

Wyll rolls his eyes at Astarion’s quip, used to the sarcasm, but somewhat surprised at the intensity of the rogue’s grip on his arm. “Wasn’t aware I couldn’t have past times.”

“By all means feel free to entertain us with a ballet in between slaughters,” his voice hushes as you walk by, looking at the two men skeptically, “I’d just prefer if your duets didn’t happen whilst I’m trying to read.”

Wyll follows Astarion’s slightly fleeting to his retreating gaze. You’re standing behind him, out of earshot, leaning against Lae’zel’s tent while she sharpens your sword. Astarion’s stare is enough to allow him to piece everything together. “Can I give you a word of advice?”

“Only if you accept that I may ignore it entirely.”

“She’s wonderful. And she’s made her choice without giving anyone else a chance. If I were you, I wouldn’t waste it, wouldn’t kill you to get to know her.”

Wyll walks away, and Astarion is left alone again with his thoughts. Contrary to Wyll’s belief, he thinks it might actually kill him to get to know you. He’s been balancing precariously on his fight to not let himself be fully consumed by you and your grace, your goodness. You were a spoilt little thing, he was sure of that, and he had meant what he said that night by the water. It didn’t mean it hurt his chest more when your face fell. “Naive?” there was a crack in your cool, crafted facade. Genuine hurt had settled there for a moment, and something akin to disappointment. He hadn’t known how to face you since, hadn’t known how to say “I’m sorry! I’m falling for you and can’t help it and I’m terrified!”

So instead he said nothing at all, and resolved to say something later.

* * *

You had just gotten back to camp for the night, Karlach nearly giggling at the amount of gold she had stuffed in her pockets from the tollhouse. You had noticed Astarion’s eyes on you, heavy and pensive, when you had dealt with the Master of Coin, how easily you’d convinced her to simply cease to be. That was perhaps the easiest transition from nobility to rogue you had, the gift of a silver tongue and wide, batting eyes.

You changed into your camp clothes and watched Karlach throw gold pieces at an increasingly irritated Lae’zel, Gale standing nearby doing his best to keep spirits high in this eerie camp, working with whatever cured meats and cheeses you still had to attempt to make a dinner. You had changed into camp clothes and grabbed one of the books you had found in the tollmaster’s office, a shockingly smutty romance novel that had to be even older than you. It was quiet in the corner you found, somewhere even Halsin’s booming laugh had faded into quiet background noise. You tried to not think about your surroundings, about your increasing frustration with Astarion, or the odd way his gaze had hung on you all day.

“I’m always impressed by that tongue of yours, petal.” The vampire’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, and he settled beside you on the ground, arms behind him as he reclined easily next to you.

You rolled your eyes at the innuendo, and the pet name. “Yet you’ve been leaving me and my tongue to our thoughts the past few days.” You huffed, flipping the book to the next page, though not really reading any of it

If Astarion could blush, he looked as if he would. “We’ve been a bit busy darling. I’ve been…strategizing.”

“Strategizing?”

“Precisely.”

The quiet overtook the two of you. After being so distant, if he didn’t want to come to you, then so be it. You could not—would not–crack first. He could not even begin to know the bubbling furnace of your feelings, or you’d be positively done for.

“How old are you?”

His question strikes you, strikes you enough that you set the book off to the side and face him. “At what point did you start to ask me questions?”

“When I realized I had done something to anger my favorite companion,” his fingers reach out and trace small patterns on your skin. “How old are you?”

“Ninety.” Your voice moves to a whisper at the end of the word, and his eyebrows quirk.

“Only ninety and yet alone. And Balduran?”

“Yes, but I haven’t lived there since I was seventy five.”

“Something happened,” he rocks upward, now sitting nearer to you. “You weren’t supposed to be like this.”

“Perhaps that’s why I’m so naive.” It comes out more bitter than you meant, but oh well. He deserved it.

“Naive wasn’t the right word,” he looks like he’s fighting himself to turn out the next sentence. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

You smile softly, laying a hand on top of his. “I don’t know if I believe that, but I appreciate the apology.”

He grins, his deep set smile lines settling in your favorite way. “Tell me about your childhood.”

You shrug, “There’s not much to say. I was an only child, an only daughter. I used to play the lyre, learn languages, paint–”

“You come from nobility.”

“I sort of thought it was obvious,” you shrug and tap your knee against his, “I wasn’t supposed to be out in the middle of a campground, much less learning the ways of a rogue.”

“What were you supposed to be?”

“A wife, I guess.”

“And while I’m sure suitors everywhere are devastated, I much prefer my rogue.”

My. You don’t say anything and neither does he. You let the word hang there, testing to see if he reaches back to grab it, but he doesn’t. It gets quiet for a moment after that, and you can see him spinning the illusion in his head. You, swathed in organza, spinning around a marble ballroom, entertaining suitors.

“Is that why you danced with Wyll?”

“Ah,” you smile and rest your head on his shoulder. You love these fleeting moments of intimacy, where you can both pretend to be nothing more than lovers on an adventure. “So this was spurred by jealousy?”

“As if I have anything to be jealous over Wyll. He wishes he looked half as good as me.” His words lack their normal bite, and he turns his head softly, so he’s speaking quietly, just to you. “But perhaps in the future you’d let me take you for a spin.”

You press your hand against his on the ground. “You need only ask.”

“I’ll… keep that in mind.”

There’s so much more you both want to say, confessions on the precipice of both your minds, but you say nothing. You idle together a touch longer, hands resting against each other, pretending neither of you can get hurt, envisioning a world where it’s him spinning you across the dance floor in a world where you could have each other.

#astarion x reader #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x tav #astarion bg3 #astarion ancunin #astarion romance

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