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#one time i was floundering in my life
seeminglydark · 15 days
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Hey um, so this is actually my first time typing anything on tumblr, partially because I only got it a couple months ago (something something healing my inner child because I only managed to secretly log into Webtoons during my younger years) and I am also a chronic lurker. Alas, it is the night hours and this, combined with listening to the first episode of Mil-Liminal has moved me to emerge, if only for a moment.
Sorry, this is strange. I am typing to someone I do not know who has written so much that is so close to my heart. Something about the first episode just really hit. Maybe it’s cause of how I can relate. Maybe it’s cause listening to it felt a little too real as if maybe you or someone you knew could relate. The thought makes me really sad but also less alone. Is that messed up?
Regardless, thank you so much for everything you make. Every success you have makes me really happy, and seeing you expand over the years to now being able to hear “Caro’s” voice after imagining it for so long- just awesome. Now if I may impose my nagging that I give to my friends upon you, please take care of yourself, make space and recognize the inherent worth you have, know that rest is necessary and you do not need to earn it, and thank you for everything you have done for the community and for all the dark times of my life you have lighted.
Hey, Hi. Even as a person who literally writes for a living, I'm always at a loss for words. Thank you. Thank you for summoning courage and coming out of the shadows for a second to send me this message. I want you to know it moved me to tears (don't worry, crying's healthy.) It's not messed up to feel less alone by listening to my stories, because you're right. Almost everything I write, I have experienced in some kinda way. That includes breaking free from control, running away, and living in my car and suddenly not knowing who the hell I even was (not from my parents though, as in Caro's case.) My writing is and has always been a way to process and express my own grief, healing, yearning, and wishing, identity, and sexuality. The fact that it can hit other people who might be going through or went through similar things actually makes it even more worth while to me. And you don't need to be sad for the things I've gone through, because it brought me here. Almost middle-aged, the bad times feel like an old nightmare I can barely remember, Breathing, Heart beating, ALIVE and with stories to tell, and if I'm lucky, some hope to share. Cuz there is hope, and don't you forget that.
Thank you again, from the very bottom of my heart. This whole message is really so special to me in the deepest most profound way possible. I want to reply to the last paragraph with something great to say, you know what I mean? Words are hard though. So instead I'll thank you again, and I'll ask that you have that same grace for yourself too, and leave you with a little drawing of a kid figuring out their life, even though they feel really lost right now, the wonderful thing about Caro's story is that we already know it's going to be ok one day. -RJ
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watchandyoullsee · 10 months
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Ariel Takes the Wheel
Scene 1: Ariel "Just Forgot"
King Triton (1989): "I just don't know what we're going to do with you, young lady."
Ariel (1989): "Daddy, I'm sorry, I just forgot, I--"
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King Triton (2023): "It's irresponsible. Your sisters are only here for one phase of the Coral Moon. Can you imagine any one of them missing the gathering?"
Ariel (2023): "No, you're right. I'm sorry." (Excuse the watermark; I don't know where else to find images.) Of course, Flounder comes to her defense in the LA just like the 1989 version, saying it wasn't her fault, but Ariel realizes her mistake and takes full responsibility.
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Scene 2: Blaming Sebastian
Ariel never blames anyone but herself in the 2023 version. She knows it's wrong to make the deal with Ursula in both versions, but the Live Action Ariel does not do it just for herself, but for both worlds -- after all, humans and merpeople may be different, but that doesn't make them enemies. Shipwrecks are alarmingly frequent, taking the lives of humans and damaging the seafloor below. Were the relations between the two peoples mended, perhaps their respective worlds could mend as well.
Thus, the stakes are higher. Had Triton been willing to listen while she had her voice (and it is understandable why he wasn't), she would never have had to give it up to be heard. 2023 Ariel not only rebels against her father because he made her upset (and she's obsessed with a human prince), but because she is doing what she believes is right for herself and her people. Since she heard Eric express a similar desire to bridge the gap between their kingdoms and the rest of the world (a desire she has never heard expressed by anyone else), it is only natural that she forms an immediate attachment to him. His beautiful face is not a motivating factor, but a nice bonus, and proof that humans are not all monsters.
Scene 3: Ariel "Didn't Mean To"
Ariel (1989): "Daddy, I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean to! I didn't know!"
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Ariel (2023): "I'm sorry, Father, this was all my fault."
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The point of this comparison is to highlight how important it was that Ariel took the wheel of the ship at the end. These are two very different characters, and thus their character arcs are different. Ariel in 1989 was curious, naïve, stubborn, rebellious in the typical adolescent fashion, and innocent as an infant. Her arc wasn't the noblest for a princess, as notwithstanding her mistakes and lack of character growth, she managed to receive all that she desired in the end. She didn't need to kill Ursula because Eric was there to do it for her, just as Scuttle was there to stall the wedding and retrieve her voice, and Sebastian was there all the way along to get her closer to Eric. Animated Ariel did not take responsibility for her actions. How could she, when she didn't know any better? Every movement she made was in her own self-interest (though I think by the end she really did love Eric as a person and not just a pretty face). Still, we love her because she is the picture of wide-eyed, adventurous youth, and there is much room for her yet to grow up, even after she's married. Because of her carefree innocence, it's nigh impossible to hate her.
Live Action Ariel is also carefree to a point, but the weight of her title and responsibilities shines through in her character. She is ignorant about the Above World (by no means from lack of effort), but clearly educated as a princess should be regarding her own. She is less stubborn in her naivety and more secure in her sense of right and wrong. There is an important distinction to be made between knowing what is right and remaining steadfast in that knowledge, versus remaining immovable in one's obliviousness.
So why was it important that Ariel took the wheel in the climax? Because she had taken the wheel all along. Had she been trapped in a vortex like in the cartoon, a damsel in distress, it would have been a disservice to her particular character arc -- that of a girl who took responsibility for her actions at every turn. "Those sacrifices you made were a choice that you can't undo," she sings in 'For the First Time.' This thread of action->consequence->action would have been left dangling, unresolved if she had suddenly lost all power.
Does this in any way diminish Eric's character? Not at all. He was willing to sacrifice his life to be with Ariel through the storm. He did everything in his power to save her. He still threw the spear, which undoubtedly saved her life in that moment (and, might I say, was a display of incredible competence to have an aim underwater like that). In that way, he repays her in kind, after she'd rescued him from drowning.
As an aside, she mimics his exact movement when he had steered the ship earlier in the film. Had she not observed what he did in that storm, she might not have known what to do in the final battle.
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Ariel still needed help -- she still needed the support and aid of her animal companions, Eric, the castle staff, and her father. BUT she also took plenty of action to satisfy her arc, avenged her father's death, and she gave credit where it was due:
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Ariel (2023): "You gave your life for me."
King Triton (2023): "And you fought to get my life back."
Ariel (2023): "I didn't fight alone, Father. Eric was with me."
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I hope this post makes it a little clearer why robbing Ariel of her ability to act in the climax of the film would have been a poor choice, specifically in the Live Action. And, by the way, you can still prefer one or the other, or neither. While I don't dislike the cartoon, I obviously prefer the more mature and responsible Ariel.
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sharkneto · 1 year
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Me on a normal day: Man, all ducks are so great. Just seeing any duck or goose is a highlight. Sure I've got some favorites, but at the end of the day, any duck is a good duck :)
Me, participating in @north-american-duck-poll: You're All So Wrong How Is Tumblr So Wrong About Ducks I'm Going To Fight All Of You Until You Start Voting For The Correct Ducks
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jedlknight · 1 year
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not to keep on about this. but. we’re talking about items from my grandma’s apartment and who gets what and who wants what and it’s like. god. how do you condense an entire life down to Items. how will i manage to point at things in her home and go “i can no longer have her around, so i’ll keep this instead.”
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fictionismyreality3 · 4 months
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Jealousy is my Best Friend (18+)
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Jason Todd x Reader
Tags: Smut, jealous!jason todd, protective!jason todd, possessive!jason todd
Warnings: romance and everything that comes with it, penetrating sex, hair pulling, choking, spanking, sir kink
Notes: am I.. a whore? MaByE🤪 I would certainly let Jay do anything mentioned in this oneshot 🫣and OMG ANGry SeX
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When you got invited to the Wayne Christmas Party you knew Jason would be livid.
It was almost a year since you’d been together and you grew to know him inside and out. Once you got past the edgy, broody and overly aggressive personality, he really was a sweet guy. But he got jealous.
Really jealous.
Since you had moved in with Jason a few months ago, you had gotten to see his more possessive side almost 24/7. He was rarely ever out of touching distance, always keeping a hand on you, especially if you had company over. The few times you met his brothers, he was practically acting like a viscous guard dog.
That’s why you knew he wouldn’t be happy that Bruce had invited you without him knowing. But, in defence of Gotham’s Dark Knight, everyone knew that Jason didn’t want you involved with his family.
So, obviously you accepted the invitation.
Yes, you knew he would be mad when he found out and when you insisted on going, but you wanted to be a part of all aspects of his life.
So, here you were. Standing in the living room of your apartment, all dressed up and ready to go, with Jason sitting fuming on the couch.
“You’re not going.” He murmured.
“Why? Do you know how bitchy I would seem I didn’t show up?” You said exasperated.
Jason ran a hand through his hair in frustration, letting out a long sigh as his eyes drifted up and down your outfit again.
“You’re not going in that.”
You were reaching the end of your rope. You had been arguing with Jason for the better part of half an hour and he hadn’t budged. The dress you had picked out for the party was one of the few times you let yourself splurge. You looked hot. You knew you looked hot and Jason knew it too. That’s why it was so impossible for him to sit with the fact that other men would be seeing you.
Jason’s eyes roamed your body again. The red fabric of the dress hugged your hips, making him want to reach out and grab you. His colour. He knew you chose that dress just to get him worked up and he loved how well it was working.
Not knowing who was going to be looking at you was utterly infuriating, even more so since he knew exactly what they would be thinking. A gorgeous girl like you? Fuck, if he wasn’t already with you he’d be eye fucking you along with the rest of them. Not that he wasn’t already.
“Are you even listening, Jay?”
Your voice broke him out of his lusting thoughts and he felt the sour pang of jealousy creep to the forefront of his mind once more.
“I’m not gonna waste this dress! Do you know how much I spent-”
“Shut… christ, shut your pretty little mouth and let me talk for one fucking second.” He growled.
Your mouth hung open, floundering for a second before it closed. Jason’s fists were clenching and unclenching. You watched that vein that only popped out when he was angry beginning to pulse with blood. His head was in his hands as he ran his hands through his hair.
With a predatory speed, his head raised and his gaze snapped to yours. His eyes pulsed green.
Before you could figure out what was happening he was striding across the room and pinning you against the wall, his hands on either side of your head.
“Jay, I didn’t-” You tried.
The rest of your pleading sentence was cut short as Jason’s hand slipped from the wall to wrap around your throat, squeezing slightly. He really wished you would just be quiet. Every time you opened your mouth he just wanted to fill it with something other than words.
“Do you know..” he inhaled sharply, “how fucking hard it is to let people seen even an inch of your skin?”
“I can-” You began to say, but Jason’s grip on your throat tightened and the words stopped at your lips.
“Stop. Talking.” His jaw ticked.
With a tortured sigh, he dipped his head down to the crook of your neck, his breath tickling your skin. He was utterly enraptured by you, and the thought of anyone else having you made his skin crawl.
“You’re not going to the party.” He said, his voice a little softer as he placed a gentle kiss to your neck.
“Jay, please. I need to meet your family.” You protested.
Your continued pleading was interrupted by your phone ringing where you had put it on the kitchen counter. Squinting your eyes, you just made out the caller ID. Dick Grayson. Thinking he could talk some sense into Jason, you used the distraction of the noise to break from his hold and run to the kitchen.
Grabbing the phone, you answered as quickly as you could. But, before you could get a word out, Jason snatched it right out of your hand.
“We’re not coming.” He said darkly, and hung up before Dick could say a word.
Okay, now you were fucked.
You took a step back and retreated all the way into the kitchen until the back of your legs hit the counter.
The taste of jealousy Jason had tried to push down was rearing its ugly head more than ever. Of all people, you were going to get his brother to help? He was fine when strangers tried something with you, he could always break a few arms. But his brother? Fuck no.
Jason prowled towards you. The sound of each step on the kitchen tile reverberated through your bones. He consumed your field of vision as he trapped you between him and the kitchen counter. You bit your lip, knowing better than to say anything. You knew that you had earned a rough punishment.
He closed his eyes, trying to keep a lid on his temper, and took a deep, shuddering breath.
He kissed your forehead.
“Knees.”
Your legs clenched together as a rush of heat flooded your core. The dark eyes of your boyfriend looked at you expectantly, and it was all you could do not to melt on the spot. Not wanting to earn a harsher punishment, you lowered yourself to the floor.
Jason’s eyes drifted to where your skin met the hard tile. He took off his suit jacket and bent down to put it underneath your knees. The only marks on your skin would be from him.
Your heart swooned at his actions. Even though he was gonna fuck you silly, he was still treating you like a princess.
“What should I do with you, huh?” His fingers found your chin and he tilted your head up to look at him.
Seeing those pretty doe eyes of yours staring up at him was almost enough to make him cum in his pants.
“Should I fuck your bratty mouth?” He said condescendingly sweet. Your head was swimming as your panties pooled with desire. You loved how he reduced you to a speechless mess with just a few words.
“Answer me, sweetheart.” He rasped.
“Yes, please Jay.” You whined.
Your begging was only met with a sharp tug of your hair, and you realized your mistake.
“Sir! Yes please, sir.” You corrected quickly.
That was more like it. Jason smiled down at you proudly, almost smug with the way you went from angry to eager for his cock. With torturously slow movements, he undid his belt and placed it on the counter beside him. He usually liked to please you first, but he was too riled up to go slow.
His hand came to hold your face, his thumb stroking your cheek as he undid the zipper of his pants. Most of the times he made you take him out, but he didn’t want to look away from your pretty eyes.
Even if you wanted to move, you couldn’t with the way he was holding you. The head of his cock brushed against your lips, and he finally let go of your chin.
“Show me how sorry you are, baby.” He said lowly.
Your previous anger had evaporated into a haze of desire, and you greedily took him into your mouth, earning a deep groan from Jason. One of his hands threaded into your hair as it had done a hundred times before, and you twirled your tongue around the head of his cock.
The familiar heat of desire thrummed through your veins, and with each lick you felt your pussy dripping with arousal. Jason murmured praises under his breath, his quiet groans filling the room.
God, he loved your mouth.
So hot and wet. Perfectly skilled at drawing all sorts of noises he didn’t know he could make from his lips. And your hands were even better. As soon as you started to roll his balls in your hand, his head tipped back in ecstasy.
“Dirty girl.” He gasped out.
Seeing how much you affected him filled your heart with pride, but before you could make a bratty comment, he had both hands in your hair and was pushing his cock to the back of your mouth.
You gagged instinctively, and your hands shot out to his thighs, pushing weakly against him. You moaned around his cock, only making him press himself deeper in your mouth until your nose touched his pubic bone.
“Oh, fuck baby.. just a-” His cock pulsed, heavy in your mouth. “Just a little more.”
Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes and your pussy clenched on nothing. God, he loved making you cry on his cock. He barely held back his orgasm as your little hands started to hit against his legs.
“Oh.. okay. Shit, princess you’re so.. whiny.” He mummers.
You try your best to take all of him down your throat, but he’s so big that it makes it hard to breathe. Wanting to please him seemed to be the only thought in your head as your core burned with the anticipation of the pleasure you would receive in return.
You sucked hard once, then twice, and had him gasping. Taking his cock from your mouth, he pulled you up from the floor.
“You want this cock so bad you have to be fucking brat?” He growled as he bent you over the counter top.
The cool air suddenly rushed across your skin as he ripped your dress off, throwing it to the floor without care. You were left bare apart from your bra and panties, which were red to match your dress.
“That was expensive..” You complained.
“I’ll buy you another one.” He said as he kept you pinned to the counter with a hand on your back.
And you knew he would.
He loved seeing you like this. Bent over, legs spread, your pussy dripping so much your panties already had a dark patch. Your red panties. His colour on his girl. He took a breath in through his nose, his hips jutting forwards and brushing against your clit.
“Jay-” A swift spank had your ass blooming with stinging pain.
“Sir! Sir, sir, sir.. M’sorry.. please, sir.. please.” You whined, repeating the title over and over again.
Jason got to his knees, pushing your legs apart, and pulled your panties down, throwing them with your discarded dress. His hands ran up and down your legs, the calloused skin of his palms making you shudder with impatience. Sensing your desperation, he decided to take mercy on you. You had been a good girl so far.
Without warning, he licked from your clit to leaking slit, moaning at the sweet taste his girl on his tongue. He could eat you for days and never need to come up for air.
“So needy..” He whispered, the air from his words brushing your clit and making you whine.
With one hand on the back of your thigh, and the other on your ass, he began to eat you from behind. His movements were aggressive like him, and he licked and sucked you without abandon. He had your hands flailing against the countertop, only to find nothing to hold on to.
He felt your thighs shaking where they were around his head, and pushed two fingers inside. You cried out in pleasure, your eyes squeezing shut as he curled his fingers to hit that perfect spot over and over and over and-
“Don’t you dare fucking cum.” He hissed, his words muffled by your cunt.
Strings of moans and high pitched mewls fell from your throat as Jason worked you up to the edge, only to pull his fingers out or take his tongue off your clit. You couldn’t even lift your head anymore, your mind too dizzy with pleasure as he pumped his fingers into you.
“I’m gonna.. need to.. oh, pl-please-” You words came out choked when when Jason suddenly added a third finger, stretching you out.
“You gonna be a good girl for me?” He said pulling his head back, leaving you missing his tongue.
“Y-yes..” You mewl breathlessly.
Jason hummed in consideration, his fingers slowing down almost to a stop. You felt painfully empty as he pulled his fingers out of your needy pussy, your walls squeezing around air. Jason stood up, still behind you, and leaned down. His chest pressed against your back and all of your senses were consumed by his weight on top of you.
“Who gets to touch this perfect little pussy?” He whispered into your ear.
“You, sir.” You gasped.
“Hm.. and who gets to decide if you get to cum?”
“You, sir..” You words came out breathy.
“Good fucking girl.” Jason rasped.
Far too soon his weight was off of you, but your mind was quickly calmed as you felt the tip of his cock rubbing up and down your entrance. You sighed out in bliss, your mind running through all the other times he had you screaming.
“Gonna take me real good, huh?” He muttered and slammed his cock into you without a moments notice.
Your mouth fell open in a silent cry. Tears pooled in your eyes as your breath caught in your throat.
You were so full.
Everything about Jason was large, including his cock, and you felt like you were fucking him for the first time all over again. You could never get used to his size.
After letting you adjust for a moment, ever the gentlemen even when blowing your back out, he began to lazily roll his hips into you.
The teasingly slow pace was incomprehensibly difficult for Jason to maintain. As soon as he was inside of you it took every ounce of willpower to resist fucking you so hard that your brains leaked out of your pussy.
But he wanted to see you fall apart even more.
You whimpered and whined, making such pretty noises for him. His large hands gripped your waist easily, allowing him to prevent you from getting greedy and bouncing back on his cock.
“Oh g-god please.. I can’t handle it..” You said in what felt like part moan, part sob.
Jason stilled his movements and you thought you might cry, but then he tangled a hand in your hair and pulled you up so your back was flush against his chest.
“Who owns you, princess?” He said as he wrapped his hand around your throat.
“You do, Jason.” You mewled.
“That’s fucking right, baby. Good girl.” You could practically hear the smirk in his voice.
And before you could ask he was already bending you back over, your chest against the cool marble countertop as he began to pound into you relentlessly.
You cried out at the sudden roughness, your walls clenching around his cock, earning a strangled moan from Jason. If it wasn’t for the hand he had on the back of your neck, you would have been pitching forward with each thrust. Your hands shot out to press against the white tile backsplash, needing something to ground you. Every time he pumped into you the tip of his cock would brush against your cervix, the delicious pang of being full of Jason had you screaming.
“You’re okay. You can- oh fuck..” He gasped out as your pussy tightened around him. “You can take it, pretty girl.”
He rasped out the reassurance, but he didn’t know how much longer he could stop himself from cumming. Every time he fucked you he only got more hooked on your body. The sounds you made, the noises and little breathy whimpers always had him harder than he thought was possible.
And you really were doing so well.
He knew he had been rough with you, but when your sweet little cunt was so fucking tight around him, how was he supposed to go slow? With every thrust he watched your eyes roll further back into your head. It felt like he was molding you from the inside out. Shaping you to fit with him and only him.
All you could do was lay there and take it. Tears had begun to fall down your cheeks, and Jason reached down to brush them away.
“You.. jesus christ, you’re mine, sweetheart.” He gasped out.
You nodded, your wanton moaning answer enough. You looked over your shoulder at Jason and his resolve snapped.
His hips were suddenly pistoling into you with a speed only reachable by a man like him. Your jaw hung open as a string of curses and groans bubbled past Jason’s lips.
“Need to..” You begged incoherently.
“I know, I know.. shit-” His cock twitched inside you. “cum with me, sweetheart.”
As soon as the words of permission slipped from his mouth your body reacted before your mind could process it. You cried out as your eyes rolled back in your head, your legs quivering so much you were grateful to be bent over the counter. Jason was cumming just as soon as he felt your cunt squeeze around him with a vice like grip. His thrusts became erratic and sloppy as he gasped and groaned out in pleasure.
Your head was hazy as your legs twitched with aftershocks. The only reminder that you were still on earth was Jason leaning down to press a kiss to the back of your neck.
“That’s it. Deep breath. Did so good for me, baby.” He cooed soothingly and pulled out.
You whined at the loss of him, feeling empty, but he quickly silenced you with a searing kiss. He watched with a proud grin as he leaked out of you, dripping down your inner thigh.
After you had calmed down enough to remember how to breath, Jason picked you up easily and began carrying you to the bathroom, his eyes on your face the entire time.
“Maybe I should make you angry more often.” You giggled.
He rolled his eyes at your remark, giving your nose a little kiss.
“Don’t even think about it.”
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prettyboykatsuki · 8 months
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warm-ups | gojo + nsfw + inspection
✮ tags ; afab + gn!reader (they are wearing a skirt / panties) but no gendered language, established relationship / power imbalance (they're dating but gojo is their superior) , teasing, humiliation, pussy inspection, praise, petnames (sweet thing, baby), fingering + penetration, creampies 18+
✮ wc ; 1.9k
✮ a/n ; i swear on my entire fucking life i did not rig this one at all KJSDF. the wheels just decided i promise this on my life.
idk if the writing reflects what i experienced trying to write this but . good fucking lord. good lord.
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"Let me see,"
Embarrassing. Humiliation is making your face burn hot as Gojo stares at you. He's smiling, of course he is - a lazy grin, head tilted slightly to one side. His teeth peek out, sharp incisors and even sharper canines like a light in the dim light of an empty classroom.
"Satoru," You reason, hands fidgeting on the hem of your skirt with a sigh "We're in the—"
"I want to see," He's not asking, so much as telling. Your heart races. You squirm. Earlier, when he called and asked for you to wear something cute - you thought it'd be some of his typical flirting. You decided to appease him. Not particularly hoping he would make any advances on you. It wasn't something you thought to justify to yourself.
It struck you as odd when he asked about it. The husk of his voice as he leaned in behind you and told you good before waltzing off back to his lesson. The whole day he'd done nothing else out of ordinary. Made his usual jokes and stupid, unserious flirtatious advances.
And then you were alone. The building is empty, and you're supposed to be planning practical lessons for the first years. Gojo cornered you here and sat with you in silence for a little while, eyes following your curves and edges before stopping to look at you.
He wanted to see what you wore. But it wasn't like usual. Something was different, obviously - he'd been thinking about something else and like usual opted not to tell you about it. You're sure he won't even if you ask.
It's a trustfall with him - always testing you to see if you'll give him blind faith. You think he likes seeing you flounder more than he's concerned about your loyalty.
You can't get a read on him.
"You're really—"
"Let me see," He says again, not as playful. You swallow thick. It's your fault for indulging him so much "I want to know what you picked."
You go to take it off and Gojo shakes his head.
"Flip your skirt up,"
"You can't be serious."
He looks at you. Reprimanding. He's very serious. You swallow around something in your throat again, turning your head. Focusing your attention on anything else. The open window that gives view to the darkness outside. If anyone came right now they'd see this. You decide to close your eyes after all.
Wordlessly, you grab the end of your skirt and flip it up. Holding the material just over your thighs - to give visibility to the sheer, delicate material underneath. A brief silence is followed with echoey footsteps. Intentional. He's letting his weight hit the ground each time he does it.
You know he stops when you feel him looming over you. Before you can get a worse in edge-wise, he drops down. Squats until his face is at level with your pussy.
But he doesn't touch you. You can feel his breath distantly, and you're too afraid to look. But he's careful not to touch you. When you do feel his hand, it's brushing against your ankle. Fingers playing with the frill of your socks.
"Spread your legs a little."
"But—"
The air changes. You clip your mouth shut and listen, sneakers squeaking along the tile as you spread yourself. Standing at shoulder width, making yourself more clear to view.
"Good," He says, like it needs no explanation "I like when you listen to me."
You don't reply. You just sit, and wait - heart hammering so hard against your chest like you've run a mile.
You count the seconds but the numbers feel muddled after you count up to three hundred. A little over five minutes before he moves again. He touches the palm of his hand against your knee, planing them up the tops of your thigh. A barely there movement. Goosebumps cover every single inch of you. He hums, arbitrarily running his fingers along your inner thigh but never quite committing.
You're almost too afraid to move. Not that he'd do anything bad. But you have no idea what he's doing in the first place. It's starting to make you sweat.
"These are pretty," He says, conversationally running his finger along the top seam where the bows are. Still not touching "They new?"
"U-uhm," Your fingers tighten around your skirt "Yes?"
"Mm," He tugs the waistband, letting it snap against your skin lightly "Were you thinking of me?"
"I thought you'd like them."
"I do. I like when you think of me."
You shudder.
"Were you thinking anything of it when you put them on this morning?"
"No," You answer truthfully.
"Really?" He answers back, genuine "Even in the afternoon,"
"I just wasn't thinking,"
"What a shame," He replies, soft and gentle. He runs fingers against the place where you thighs meet your legs. Still no direct touching. You feel yourself starting to get wet around where he isn't. "I was thinking of you all day."
"Oh," You mumble.
"Wanna know what I was thinking about?"
He doesn't give you a chance to answer.
"I was thinking about," A single finger, his middle finger, runs along the seam of your panties. A ghost of a touch that makes your knees weak "Giving you a nice, thorough inspection."
You can't think.
"I was thinking," He answers again, but this time he pushes and you gasp at the sudden contact "About what it might be like to watch you make a mess like this," Another press, a little harder, still not where you need "Get these nice and dirty,"
"Satoru," Your voice is high-pitched. A whine. A sound you didn't even know you could make.
"I was thinking," He repeats, removing his hand completely "How wet I could get you by telling you all the dirty, awful, nasty things I wanna do with you,"
"What a-are you?"
"It's not proper at all for a trusted grown-up hm? To be pulling up your skirt and showing off your sweet little cunt to your superior? There's windows. They'll see you,"
You can only repeat his name. "Satoru."
"Do you want them to see you?" He asks, hand gentle on your thigh. He trails up "Do you want them to see you bent over the desk while I fuck you? Or maybe you want to spread your legs more,"
You choke on your spit, trying to keep the noises in.
"Make you sit with your legs wide and fuck you with my fingers till you squirt all over the desk. Let everyone see how filthy you let me make you,"
That makes you open your eyes. Once squeezed shut, now wet with need. You turn slightly, looking down at him. He looks pleased by this, by your staring. He watches your face as he gathers the material covering your pussy, pulling it between your lips with enough friction that your knees nearly give out.
"It's good that these were so light," He offers "Didn't think you could get this wet over something like this."
Your lower lip is trembling.
He still doesn't take pity on you.
"You did well," He kisses your knee. It's the most you've gotten from him today "What should I give you hm?"
Your words feel slurred and your head feels completely heavy. "Make me cum. Please, I wanna—"
"Shhh," He coos, patting your leg "Sit up on the desk ,"
You listen, sitting up and far back enough to sit comfortable. Gojo positions you with your feet flat on the desk underneath you. He pulls your skirt up this time, guiding your arms around his neck as he pushes his hand into the waistband of your panties.
The sudden contact is deliciously overstimulating. You gasp and Gojo hums, pleased.
"So sweet," He praises, after you've finally lost all of your resolve - brain clouded with nothing but unadulterated desire. It's hard not to give into Gojo. He always makes it good for you in the end "And so wet. You'll leave a stain."
You sniffle "Satoru," You repeat. He laughs good-naturedly. It makes you huff.
"Right, right. Sorry,"
He doesn't make you wait. The feeling of Gojo's hand makes you gasp with your face buried in his neck. His fingers are thick, smooth skin cool to the touch like a balm on your ever growing heat. He starts with his middle finger, fucking into you slowly and even though it isn't enough to make you cum - it's enough to stimulate you. Already so worked up, so needy it's so good.
But he's not doing it to make you feel good. He's preparing you, wanting to give you something better.
"Gonna give you my cock," He mumbles against the crown of your head, free hand tucking your head to his chest "You're gonna cum all over it for me, okay?"
A pathetic uh-huh leaves your lips, dazed. He doesn't give you anything more after that. One finger without resistance prompts another, and he stops at three. You can feel yourself stretched. You've taken it before, more than once.
But this time feels different. Your stomach is tied in knots. Gojo pulls away from you slightly, enough to undo his pants and let his cock spring free. White hairs neat at the base, tip flushed red. He's so hard, he's throbbing against your thigh where you can feel him.
"Take me in, baby," He hums, pushing the round tip against your cunt before it catches. He lets himself in slowly "That's it,"
The intial stretch leaves your lungs feeling punched out. Already undone, nerves frayed and mind fuzzy - the soft stretch of your pussy accommodating his length leaves you shaking. Skin on skin, raw and desperate, he swears under his breath and throws his head back. His adams apple bobs slightly, smiling as he swallows.
"So good,"
He fucks himself deeper Lets you adjust to each inch, and waits to bottom out until it's comfortable. The brief moment of tension only drives your lust further out of control. You can feel every slight throb and twitch. It gives you a second to appreciate every vein and the slight curve. The deep angle he's hitting you.
Just when you think you can't lose it anymore, he maneuvers his hand between your bodies and uses his thumb on your clit. Every neuron fires at once as he rubs the abused bundle of nerves, achy and weeping between your legs.
Your fingers tighten in his shoulders and Satoru laughs. He starts to move like that, careful and practiced. He angles each thrust of his hips to time it with his fingers. All precision, all reward. He thumbs your needy clit and fucks his cock right against the sweetest, softest part inside of you. He knows it so well by now, it always remembers him.
"Cum on me, sweet thing. Just a little more."
You wrap your legs around Gojo's waist as all the tension in your body started to overflow. All your tight muscles, the hot feeling in your belly that flows and disperses through your whole body. Every sensation works in tandem in making you fall apart and all of it happens at Gojo's mercy.
"Oh, Satoru, oh,"
You cum so hard you see white in your vision. You can feel yourself pulse as Gojo fucks himself as deep into you can go. All the way in your stomach, up to your throat - it knocks all the wind out of you as your pussy pulses and holds and clings to Gojo's cock like it never ever wants it to leave.
Gojo follows you in the aftermath of your own orgasm.
A few more shallow thrust of hips before he pours his cum into you, thick white ropes making your belly feel even hotter.
You stay like that a minute, full and exhausted until Gojo pulls away to kiss you.
"Let's clean up," He offers, an apology without saying sorry "We'll finish up at home, hm? Okay?"
You nod.
"Kay."
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2K notes · View notes
mangomonk · 8 months
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i thought that i was dreaming when you said you loved me
↳ summary: read this drabble first! goodie two shoes!remus, afraid of being perceived as other, stumbles into a relationship at the expense of y/n. ↳ content: angst, one-sided fake dating ↳ a/n: a little nervous because this is my first time writing for remus pls be gentle w me! for full enjoyment, listen to ivy by frank ocean (i looped it the entire time i wrote this). the more i wrote this, the more i realized i could turn this into a full blown million word fic, but i tried to keep it as condensed as possible, hence some time skips/summarization. pt. 2 here!
When Remus Lupin confesses — no, announces — that he likes her in the middle of the Great Hall, she thinks she's dreaming. Surely, she didn't hear that correctly. Only hours earlier, she had witnessed the doe-eyed boy unleash a slew of curses beneath his breath. I guess everyone has bad days, she had thought. Even Remus, who she had always pegged as straight-laced and well-mannered.
So when a half a dozen heads turn to stare at her directly, Y/N turns to see if there's anyone behind her. When she sees no one, she turns back forward. It's when Remus Lupin's soft, brown gaze meets hers that her heart stutters dangerously in her chest. She can't help it despite the bewilderment she feels — everyone in the castle has to have some sort of crush on the fluffy-haired boy. He's all soft, disarming smiles and beautiful, brown eyes and knitted jumpers and gentle laughter and—
—and Y/N goes red in the face right away. It doesn't help when Remus tilts his head to the side slightly and offers a small, uncertain smile. Merlin, help me, Y/N thinks as she stares back, wide-eyed, her confusion and any thoughts briefly neutralized at the way his eyes crinkle into little half-moons.
— — — — —
Y/N has always prided herself on being a sharp judge of character. It soon became clear to her, however, that Remus Lupin was a strange, but intriguing case of contradicting character.
Following his confession — rather, announcement — in the Great Hall, she becomes overly conscious of the tall boy. It feels as though she's suddenly very aware that they have most of their classes together, that he sits only a seat away from her in Charms, that he has chicken scratch for handwriting when she passes him in the library. The latter comes as a surprise — perhaps unfairly, she would have pegged him as a swooping cursive type of boy. In any case, it soon becomes the case that Y/N realizes that she can find Remus easily in a room of crowded students, and the more she does, the more she begins to realize that Remus is a boy full of surprises.
This doesn't seem to matter though, because strangely, after his confession in the Great Hall, Remus does not once approach her. Occasionally, she catches him glancing at her with an odd expression, but outside of an increase in being stared at by the other students, little changes in her life.
It isn't until a week later when her seat partner in Charms is out that their paths cross again. When she trudges to her seat in class, she becomes very quickly aware that they're separated only by an empty chair. She doesn't look away fast enough because Remus looks up as she pulls her chair out, his gaze snagging on to hers with an intensity that she doesn't expect from the softness of his eyes.
"Good morning," he says slowly, almost uncertainly. Up close, Y/N can see a splay of pale freckles across his cheekbones. His lashes are unfairly, distractingly long as he gazes up at her.
"Hi," Y/N says, equally uncertain, though she tries to keep her voice light and casual. No one's ever really had a crush on her before, and she finds herself floundering on how to act. Shouldn't he be the nervous one, and not her? Somehow though, she can feel her palms begin to sweat, though Remus doesn't look nervous at all. Just sharp and assessing. Fortunately though, before the air between them can turn any awkwarder, a mussed-haired head pops up from around Remus.
"Y/N, right?" James Potter asks with a wide grin. His glasses are skewed and crooked on his face as he peers around Remus at her rather owlishly.
Next to him, Remus blinks a few times as she nods, opening her mouth to speak when Professor Flitwick clears his throat to begin class.
She tries to focus on taking notes, but it's difficult when she can see Remus casting her sidelong glances from her peripheral view. She gives up on trying to focus on class entirely when a folded piece of parchment flits over the gap between them with a familiar chicken scratch.
Can we talk after class?
After class, Y/N has a ridiculous, irrational flash of self-consciousness that the humidity has made her hair begin to frizz. Remus doesn't seem to notice as she rakes a hand quickly through her hair because a nervous, almost agitated, energy is rolling off of him as he paces in the courtyard.
When he catches sight of her, he stops, a warm smile breaking across his face, though Y/N feels that it doesn't quite reach his eyes. But the new knowledge that Remus has a dimple on his left cheek and his smile is just slightly crooked is enough to disarm any wariness. Unexpectedly his nervous energy seems to dissipate immediately. "Hi," he says, "You came."
"I got your note," Y/N says, inwardly grimacing — of course he knew that already, he had been sitting next to her.
"Right, well, I, er—" Remus begins choppily, his hand rising to rub at the nape of his neck. "I was wondering about... Earlier, last week, when you saw me... Did you say anything to anyone?"
Y/N blinks at him once, then twice, blankly. "Earlier?" She questions, before the heat begins to rise to her face. He must have been referring to his confession. "I haven't said anything to anyone."
Remus's brows furrow for a moment before his face relaxes. He's surprisingly difficult to read — it feels as though any trickle of emotion is covered with a disarming soft smile. "I see," he says after a moment, his shoulders relaxing. "Right, well, Y/N," he begins, looking around them distractedly. "—shall we date?" Y/N straightens with a jolt as he continues. "I won't be offended if you say no. In fact, I'd understand if you said no, we've barely—"
She doesn't know what it is exactly. Maybe it was the curious thought that Remus might not be the charming prince he seemed to be. Maybe it was the dimple in his left cheek. Maybe it was the way he said her name. But something in Y/N slipped through her confusion and the unceremonious nature of the whole thing, because she finds herself speaking before she can stop herself. "Yeah. Let's date."
Remus's face goes slack. He looks a little startled, Y/N thinks, like she's clubbed him over the head. "Are you sure?" He blurts, eyes widening a fraction. It's perhaps the most emotion she's seen him show so far. Y/N writes it off as nerves and incredulity.
She nods once, firmly.
"I guess that's settled," he says weakly with furrowed brows, though he looked neither pleased nor displeased.
— — — — —
Initially, Y/N and Remus are as awkward as can be. She's not sure if it's because neither of them have really ever been in a relationship before, but it feels clumsy in the beginning.
Their dates start off mostly as study dates in the library, but Y/N doesn't mind — to her pleasure, she finds that they eerily work well together and she likes the calm peace of Remus's presence while she's studying. She likes to think that he also finds comfort in her presence because it's become ritual for him to ask her about the book she's reading, and vice versa. In a few weeks, they start reading the same books. Maybe it's because they spend so much time together studying that it becomes gradually more comfortable.
When they go to Hogsmeade for the first time together, Y/N finds that they end up walking around the village and chatting nearly until curfew. She tells him about what it's like growing up with three brothers — "It doesn't seem very different from the Marauders," Remus observes with a wry laugh — and he tells her stories of how despite moving around periodically during his child, his mother always found a little corner in the yard to start an herb garden.
He does all the things she'd imagine a boyfriend might — Remus is a gentleman, expectedly. He holds the door open for her, gives her his jumper when there was a draft in the library, walks her back to the Common Room at night.
But, unexpectedly, it isn't Remus's soft smiles or considerate aura that Y/N finds herself straining to see. But it was when he threw his head back and laughed himself breathless at James holding his wand on the wrong end that Y/N found it impossible to tear her eyes away from him. Or when he shot her a dour look the first time she teased him on his illegible chicken scratch. Or when Remus cursed like a sailor when he knocked his ink pot over onto his parchment because he was always so uncoordinated and graceless.
It was perhaps impossible not to fall in love with Remus Lupin. Though maybe she already knew this from the start when he first looked at her, and even more so the first time he said her name.
She liked the way he would groan and complain and grumble as he stretched out his lithe limbs in preparation of helping Peter with his essay that he had procrastinated on, even after she could see the exhaustion begin to pool under his pretty eyes. She liked that he could silence the boys with just one baleful look. She liked the way he fell asleep on his books when he thought no one was looking. She liked his dry remarks and his wolfish grin and his grumpy mood. She liked all the rough edges that Remus showed her when he would forget to put up a soft smile.
It was too easy to love Remus Lupin, though it seemed like he didn't know that himself.
It only takes four full moons for Y/N to understand what the Marauders meant whenever they quietly referred to Remus's furry little problem. In the first place, they weren't always discreet — it was easy for them to forget she was there when she was studying in the background. In the second place, Remus would apologetically cancel their studying plans around the same time each month, and he would disappear for a few days and come back exhausted with fresh scars. It wasn't difficult to put two and two together, really.
But while she understood why he didn't tell her, she couldn't help but give him a tighter hug when she realized.
"Something wrong, love?" He had asked, reaching up to caress the back of her hair as she squeezed his abdomen.
"No," she had mumbled into his shirt, breathing in his familiar scent. She could feel affection swell inside her so violently she felt a little dizzy as she gave him another squeeze. "Just wish I could always be hugging you."
"No one's stopping you," Remus had responded dryly. She smiled into his chest as he rested his chin on the crown of her head. "Certainly not me."
— — — — —
When Y/N tries to discreetly deliver a small care package of chocolate and books a few nights before the next full moon, she accidentally overhears Peter ask James when Remus was ending his fake relationship.
"I doubt it'll raise any suspicions now that no one's pestering him about not having a girlfriend," she hears Peter say.
James makes a noncommittal sort of noise. "You know how Remus is about these things. He's always on edge that someone will think he's the odd one out—"
She feels like the ground beneath her has stuttered and shifted into an open chasm as her mind whirls to make sense of their conversation. For a moment, she thinks she's wrong, but like it was with Remus's furry little problem, if she thinks back on the stranger moments of the past four months, it's not difficult to piece it together. She begins to feel a little ill.
How many times did he force himself to smile at her stories? How many times after walking her back to the Common Room at night did he sigh with relief when she left? How many times did he wait for other students to be around to hold her hand? All the heart-fluttering moments she had thought had been magical and wonderful and incredible with Remus had been entirely one-sided. How humiliating. She feels used and dirty and pathetic, but the worse thing is that she can't feel angry.
She doesn't know how long she stands paralyzed outside, just that it's difficult to breathe or think properly. All she can feel is a numbing ache in her chest, and the feeling tightens when she hears a familiar voice behind her.
"Hmm?" Remus hums, a smile breaking across his face. The dimple in his left cheek appears briefly. "What are you doing here, love?" When she doesn't respond, he steps closer to her and peers at her face carefully, his big, brown eyes soft. "What's wrong?" He asks, gently looping his arms around her waist. Y/N goes perfectly still under his touch. "I knew you'd be studying for the Ancient Runes exam all day, so got some cakes from the kitchen for—"
"Remus," she interrupts suddenly, her throat gone cottony and dry as she raises her gaze to finally look at him. It sends a sharp pang through her chest again. "Are we ever going to kiss?"
Bizarrely, scarlet splotches appear swiftly on the high points of Remus's cheek as his eyes widen a fraction. "Kiss," he repeats, sounding strangled as he stares at her wide-eyed, looking as though she had clubbed him over the head. "You want to kiss?" He asks after a moment, his voice hoarse as his eyes flicker down to her lips.
"Do you want to kiss me?" She asks quietly, watching his throat bob as he swallows thickly.
"I've wanted to since—" Remus says softly, a little nonsensically, his eyes darting back down to her lips. His pupils are blown wide and dark as he swallows, his throat bobbing. “Y/N,” he murmurs, and she can feel his breath brush against her nose. She tries to control the thumping in her chest as he slowly leans in and raises his hand to cup her face. Remus looks down at her with a sweet adoration she knows cannot be real. She's seen this sort of soft look from him countless times before and now she knows better than anyone that it's just another cover. Perhaps it was perfectly clear since the start, but she had let herself get swept away with naive hope. The start of nothing. She feels like a fool.
Remus's head ducks slightly as the space between them closes. Y/N goes perfectly still as she watches his other hand rise, his fingers trembling a little as they reach to curve around her jaw.
For a moment, she entertains the thought and wonders what would happen if she just closes her eyes. She could close her eyes, could lean in and feel his eyelashes brush her cheek, could let him kiss her senseless. It would be so easy. It scares her a little how much she wants that.
Before she can betray herself, Y/N closes her hand around his wrist. “You can stop now,” she says, her voice low and steadier than she felt.
Remus freezes, his dazed expression crumpling in confusion. She takes a steadying breath, swallowing back the bile in her throat as she schools her expression with difficulty. Y/N places his wrist back down away from her face and lets go as she continues, despite the dull ache in her chest. “I wanted to know how far you would go,” she continues quietly. “How far you thought I would be willing to go.”
“I don’t understand—” Remus begins, a myriad of stricken dismay, alarm, and something else flickering across his face. For a moment, she thinks it’s the residue of desire, but she quickly remembers how good of an actor Remus is, and doesn’t let herself entertain that thought that it’s anything else besides panic for being caught.
"I know you're just using me," Y/N says, her throat dry. Her voice, to her mortification, cracks and comes out as a croak. Any sense of anger deflates immediately and all she can feel is this crumbling sense of defeat. “I should have known that something was strange when you suddenly confessed. We had never even really talked before that. I mean, I thought that I was dreaming when you said you liked me—"
“No, it's because—”
"I know why you did it," she whispers. Remus freezes, the color draining from his face. "The worse part of all this is that I can't find it in myself to hate you for using me. But I had just thought that you didn’t think so little of me as to…” She doesn’t finish as she stares down at the space between them, swallowing thickly. She feels ill. The last sentence had come out before she realized it. So that was what it was — disappointment.
"Did you even know my name before James said it?" She asks with a bark of a forced laugh as she straightens, setting her shoulders now though she still has a difficult time looking directly at him.
Remus swallows thickly as he steps forward. His pause is enough of an answer. "Let me explain,” he begins quickly, his words tumbling out in a frantic mess. “Y/N, wait,” he starts, reaching out.
“Don’t touch me, Lupin,” she says dejectedly, stepping away from him. Remus flinches and freezes, his expression falling, but she can't bring herself to look at him in the eye anymore. Y/N stares at the worn patch of carpet by her shoe as she swallows thickly before turning to leave. "You can tell everyone that you broke up with me if it helps you."
— — — — —
a/n: thx for reading! pt. 2 here my masterlist here
1K notes · View notes
luveline · 9 months
Note
could i request teacher!reader with hotch? like maybe she’s jacks teacher
thank you for your request! fem!reader, 1.2k
You're a teacher: you're always tired. Overworked, underpaid, everybody knows how it goes. And maybe you've let yourself go because you don't have any real material hopes for the future beyond getting Macy Danish to read at a first grade level, but how were you supposed to know that Jack Hotchner's father would be so overwhelmingly attractive? It's not fair. 
He's handsome though older than you'd been expecting, but that isn't the cut and dry of it. When he comes in, it's alone, in a well-fitted suit. He's tall and remarkably dark-eyed, shaking your hand without trying to impose any authority, as some of the fathers tend to do, and when you call him Mr. Hotchner, he says, "Aaron, please," but continues to call you Ms. L/N.
"Aaron," you say, pulling your skirt under your thighs as you sit down. You're dressed in nice clothes for the parent-teacher conferences, but you could've covered your sleeplessness better. "Jack is the nicest boy in class. He's actually my loveliest kid. Um…" You search through your notes for the preliminary assessment of Jack. "Sorry, two seconds." 
"Take your time. I know what it's like to dig through a mountain of paperwork every day." 
"Jack mentioned you work in the government, he calls you a special agent," you say, smiling. "You get the bad guys." 
"I am a special agent. Supervisory." Aaron is conscientious enough to pretend he doesn't notice your surprise. "I'm chief of the behavioural analysis unit." 
You can't even begin to guess what that entails. "Oh," you say breathlessly. 
"I understand that it sounds fantastical." 
"It sounds impressive," you say, floundering to correct yourself. Behavioural analysis? It must be obvious to him how nervous he's making you, then, and when you realise that, you get worse. "I'm so sorry about this. I should be more organised. I usually am." 
"That's alright. Take your time." 
Does he always speak that way? His voice is like fucking silk? Is he messing with you?
You yank the notes you made for Jack from the pile and flatten them across the desk. "Okay, sorry. Like I was saying, Jack is really the nicest kid, him and his friend Molly. They're both lovely, and teachers shouldn't have favourites, please don't tell the other parents, but they're my favourites." You smile at him quickly and return your eyes to the paper. The words swim in front of your eyes. "Jack can read better than you could ever hope for a first grader, he's immensely intelligent for his age group. He's patient. He'll explain anything to anyone if they ask him too, and he does it well." 
"I'm glad to hear that," he says, again so softly. 
You pick up one of your skinny biros to have something to fidget with. He's a very good looking man, but you're a good teacher. You can focus on what to say. Some parents need good things only. Some need reassurement that they're doing a good job. Aaron is harder to read, but you know what he needs, too. 
"He can be lonely," you say, looking him in the eye. "I don't think that that's down to any fault. I'm sure you know better than I do why he might feel that way." You know about his mom's passing over a year ago. You've seen grief in children too many times. "He… I understand if this isn't okay with you, but he eats lunch with me sometimes. I encourage him to sit with his peers, of course, but I think he runs out of energy pretty quickly." 
Aaron nods thoughtfully. His brows quirk into a furrow that you're afraid is directed at you. 
"I don't think he necessarily has trouble connecting with his friends." 
"What do you think?" 
"I think something awful happened to your family, and Jack will feel it for the rest of his life, but that it won't stop him from being great. It already isn't. And… he clearly has a father who loves him and who he admires. You're his second favourite topic." 
"What's his first?" he asks. 
"He's really into Fruity Fridays," you say with a laugh. "I bring in fruits you don't get often in America. Someone would've had to sign a form." 
"No, I remember signing it. He likes that?" His smile is golden. "I can't get him to try new things." 
"He had all the leftover gold kiwi last week." You rub your lips together. Time is ticking. You have nearly thirty parents to see tonight, but talking to Mr. Hotchner has been so normal. He's a regular person in a sea of inattentive helicopter narcissists. It's a relief and a half to meet him and know a kid as gentle as Jack is in good hands. "Mr. Hotchner, I have to tell you, I'm really relieved to meet you." 
"Aaron," he corrects.
Your tone drops too low. "Aaron." 
"I'm more than relieved," he says. "I knew that this year would be harder for him. I didn't know… I'm grateful to you, for being so kind with him." 
You look down at your notes, flushed from head to toe despite your airy skirt. Crossing your legs, you shake your head. "It's my job." 
"To let him take up the only break you get all day?" he asks. 
"It's not like that. Jack doesn't bother me." You fold your notes in half. "I can see his role model measures up." 
"I could say the same thing." 
The next time you see Jack, bright and early Monday mooring shepherded by his aunt Jessica, he's very happy to see you. You offer him a hug and pat his back when he wraps his arms around your hips. "Hello, Jack. Was your dad pleased with your drawings?"
Jack smiles at you. "I have a note for you." 
"You do? Can I see? Where is it, honey?" 
Jack takes off his backpack and pulls out the note and a tupperware container. "Oh, wow, did you make treats for the class? Jack, that's so nice!" 
"No. Dad said those are for you. He said you should have nice for nice, or something," Jack informs you. 
"You'll share with me, though? I can't eat them all by myself," you whisper. 
He nods with enthusiasm and runs off to put his backpack in his cubby and his coat on the hook. You look down at the cookies and note, which is actually an envelope. 
You open it with your thumbnail. The writing is Aaron's usual tight cursive.
Dear Miss L/N, 
I hoped to thank you again in person, but work makes that hard. I appreciate everything you do for Jack. There are teachers who work, and there are teachers who go above and beyond. I can feel confident anywhere in the country knowing Jack is being taught by the latter. 
Gratefully yours, 
Aaron Hotchner. 
P.S. Please don't feed Jack too many cookies. They're not for him. 
You keep the letter even if it's lame to do so. When is the next parent teacher conference, anyways?
2K notes · View notes
buckybabesonly · 1 year
Text
Dirty Little Secret
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Summary: You believe Bucky doesn’t even remember your name, not knowing he moans it to himself at night.
Part 2 - Dirty Little Confession
Pairing: Bucky x Female!Reader
Genre: Smut
Warnings: Masturbation (male)
Word count: 1.4K
A/N: Wrote this on my phone lol sorry for any potential errors. Just wanted to get a little smutty post out there. Also - thanks for nearly 400 followers in just over one week of starting this blog! I’m so happy 🥲 Enjoy!
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“Hey. Are you listening?”
A pair of fingers snapped in front of your eyes, breaking you out of your reverie. You blinked in embarrassment as Natasha scowled at you playfully.
“Seriously though, did you listen to anything I just said?”
“No,” you confessed sheepishly.
Her eyes followed your line of sight, landing on a certain Bucky Barnes.
“Ah. You started writing ‘Mrs Bucky Barnes’ across your notepads yet?”
You blushed, heat rising to your cheeks. Were you that obvious? You supposed that one would have to be blind not to notice the goo-goo eyes you gave Bucky all the time whenever he was in the vicinity.
He had arrived at the compound just a few months ago, settling in to his new reformed life away from his history as the Winter Soldier. Steve did his best to help him adjust, and from what you could tell, he was fairly quiet and kept to himself.
“He’s kind of exactly my type,” you confessed to Natasha quietly, biting on your lower lip.
“I see. You like a guy with a high body count, huh.”
“Nat!” You exclaimed, slapping her arm as she snickered at the double entendre. “Not funny.”
“Hey, he gave me this.” Natasha yanked up her top, showing off her scar just above the hipbone. “I’m allowed to be mean to him.”
You grumbled in response as Natasha leant closer, cocking an eyebrow. “Anyway, as I was saying, I really need you to help me run some analysis on this equipment we picked up from…”
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You shuffled through the compound hallways, a stack of files in your arms. You rounded a corner sharply, almost colliding with a tall, dark figure who sidestepped you neatly.
“Jesus Christ!” Though a collision had been avoided, you squawked in shock nonetheless, promptly dropping the files onto the floor.
“Ah, shit. Sorry,” Bucky said, quickly kneeling down to collect them.
“Oh god, I’m sorry,” you floundered, cheeks flushing red. He straightened up and stacked the files on your arms neatly, his long fingers brushing against yours ever so slightly. His eyes met yours as he offered you a half smile, the corners of his lips quirking up.
His irises were a gorgeous, gray blue, and you silently noted that you had never been stood so close to him before. He smelt so good, and he looked even better in his tight tactical gear.
“Thank you,” you stuttered, wanting to kick yourself at how ruffled you sounded. The effect this man had on you was unfair.
“You’re welcome…” he paused deliberately, and you offered your name to him eagerly. He repeated it, and you loved the way the syllables sounded on his tongue.
“See you around,” he said casually before he strode off again, leaving you a flustered mess in the hallway.
Okay, at least step one was accomplished - he finally knew your name, even if he might not remember it.
You sighed, knowing your little schoolgirl crush was going to be the death of you.
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Bucky lay in bed that night, as he did most nights since coming to the compound, with his hands down his pants.
He liked to start off slow, usually. On the odd occasion, he would want it fast, his hands working overtime on his cock as he showered, water streaming over his body as he pumped himself to completion. He would cum hard each time, bracing himself against the shower tiles, your name on his lips.
But usually he liked to take his time. Enjoyed painting a picture in his mind, a mental porno in which you were the star.
God, you had been so fucking cute today. Bucky loved watching you squirm, seeing you blush, practically see the blood rushing to your cheeks.
He had playfully orchestrated the encounter in the hallway, able to smell your subtle perfume with his elevated senses (it had the smell of vanilla and sakura blossoms) as you power walked through the compound.
He was delighted when you practically unravelled in front of him just from a simple stare and a sweep of his fingers. He wondered what you would be like if he ever got you in front of him, naked, ready to take his cock.
His hand palmed his semi-hard erection as he settled back against the pillows, eyes closed. He teased himself, fingers gently tapping his dick, pulling slightly at his balls.
Your face was fixed in his mind. He recalled your wide, shocked eyes, your mouth open in a small ‘O’ as you gasped.
He imagined that mouth stretching wider, tongue lolling out, asking to suck his cock. You would be on your knees as he stood over you, feeding his dick into your warm cavern, and you would take as much as you could like a good girl. So eager to please.
“Ah, fuck,” Bucky hissed, pulling down the hem of his sweatpants and freeing himself completely.
His cock was heavy and thick as it lay against his stomach, twitching slightly as his mind filled itself with the most lewd images of you.
Of course he knew your name. He had asked Steve for it after the first few times he’d spotted you, playing it off as a casual inquiry.
He moaned it now as he dragged drops of his pre-cum down his shaft, wishing it was your hands that was wrapped around his length.
Somehow he found it thrilling, the idea of you believing that he had no clue who you were. He wondered what your reaction would be if you could see him now, rendered a horny, sweaty mess as he masturbated to thoughts of you and only you.
He imagined you spread out in front of him, legs wide, panting and begging for him to fuck your tight pussy. He would slap the head of his cock against your entrance, dragging it against your wet folds, teasing.
In reality, he knew that if he ever found himself in that position, he wouldn’t be able to hold back. Hell, he’d be the one begging you to let him fuck you.
“Yeah, you like that, baby?” Bucky grunted, his hand beginning to move at a steady tempo. If he went too fast, he would definitely cum within seconds, and he wanted to make this last.
He imagined being able to fondle your soft breasts, imagined being able use his mouth on your nipples, wanting to suckle on your tits. He imagined being allowed to kiss every inch of your body, from your toes, up the inner thighs, through the valley of your breasts and to your lips.
He would kiss you with passion and fire, tongue searching yours, wet and hot and needy. He would cup his hand behind your neck, fuck into you slowly and make you moan his name into his mouth.
He tried to imagine how that would sound like, high pitched and breathy.
“Beg for me,” Bucky said aloud, his hand moving up and down his cock as he fantasised about it moving in and out of your cunt instead. “God, beg me to cum inside you.”
He bet your soaking pussy would feel ten times better than jerking off alone in his room, but for now, this was the best he could get. He imagined rutting into you, hard, watching you shake under him as you became undone.
“You gonna let me cum inside you, princess?” He groaned, feeling himself reach the edge. He could see you in his mind, touching your own clit, pleasuring yourself as Bucky’s fat cock disappeared inside you over and over and over again.
You would beg for him to breed you, to fill you up, that sweet mouth speaking the filthiest words.
“Ah - ah fuck, I’ll give it to you, you’re taking it all like a good girl,” Bucky gasped, his hand clenching around his thick, veiny cock before he released all the pent up sexual frustration inside.
Creamy, hot ropes of cum spurted out, onto his stomach. He steadily stroked himself through the high, imagining you crying out as you orgasmed, imagining you being filled up with his seed.
He envisioned how it would look as he continued to thrust, you letting yourself be used, whimpering at the over stimulation.
Bucky was breathing rapidly, body finally going lax as his sticky hand released his softening cock. His heart was beating rapidly as he licked his lips, sighing longingly.
One day, he thought, almost a prayer, one day I’ll get to see what you look like when you cum.
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Part 2 - Dirty Little Confession
4K notes · View notes
writtenbymoonflower · 3 months
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hi!!! could i pls request some casual dominance polymarauders 🙈
Thanks for requesting, hope this is okay! gn!reader x poly!marauders, kinda modern!au
cw: kinda d/s dynamics, boys order reader around a bit. if it's not your cup of tea feel free to skip!
810 words
You were attacked with affection the minute you had stepped foot in the house, but you weren’t complaining. It was like James had appeared from thin air to help you shuck your coat off and hang it up for you. 
“Christ, babe. It didn’t know how freezing it was out there. You’ve got like, bits of ice on you.” He fussed, scrutinizing your shaking body and wind-pinched face. 
“It wasn’t that bad, the walk was pretty.” You thought that would be reassuring, but James just looked more aghast. 
“You walked the whole way here?”
“I mean, yeah. I didn’t have money for the bus.” You admitted shamefully. It seemed like Sirius had appeared in the room to give you a (loving) talking to as well. 
“Then in that case, you call one of us, yeah?” He grabbed your face gently, turning you away from James to look at him. He had his whole intimidation thing going on that made you want to melt into the floor. “You don’t get to put yourself in danger walking in this.” He gave your chin an affectionate squeeze before dropping his hand from your face, you let your gaze fall to the floor.
“I will,” You muttered, barely intelligible. This time it was James who tilted your face up. 
“Speak up baby, and look Pads in the eye when you talk to him.” He was gentle but still assertive. You quickly corrected. 
“I will call you next time.” Still mousy, but at a discernible volume, and now you could see when Sirius’ usual grin overtook his concerned features. He pulled you into him, giving you a tight squeeze. 
“You’re okay, babydoll. You’re not in trouble.” He kissed your neck, making it hard for you to breathe. 
“Who’s not in trouble?” You heard Remus’ even tone from the kitchen. You tugged the two men next to you over to where Remus was. He was sitting at the counter, doing some work on his laptop.
“Well it seems like Y/N was determined to give us the fright of our life this afternoon.” James joked (rather dramatically in your opinion), but it’s all good now. 
“They will be requiring some hot chocolate, though.” Sirius pinched at your nose, making an awful cooing sound. “Baby, your face is still all cold.” 
Remus stood up to rummage through the box of hot drink mixes. “Pads love, could you run upstairs and grab the sweater off the end of the bed?” his voice turned more serious as he looked at you. “It doesn’t surprise me that you’re still cold, that shirt likely isn’t doing much to keep you warm.” 
“Actually,” You spoke up, ignoring his comment. “Could I have some coffee instead?” James scoffed and Remus rolled his eyes. 
“It’s half past five, baby dove. You’ll be up all night if you have caffeine right now.” Remus clearly wasn’t in the mood to be argued with, but you pressed in.
“I’ll be fine! Besides, my head hurts and I need to get some work done.” 
“Yeah, well, get that idea out of your head.” James shook your shoulders affectionately. “You’ve been burning the candle at both ends lately, you need a rest.” 
“Who needs a rest?” Sirius trotted over to you, manhandling you to get Remus’ sweater over your head. 
“Y/N,” James tattled. “They think they’re getting coffee at this hour.” He laughed like you were being obviously ridiculous. “They also have a headache and didn’t tell us.” You must’ve looked absolutely appalled and quickly floundered to control the damages. 
“I didn’t think it was important! It’s not bad anyway.” 
“Well, let’s try to keep it from getting bad.” Remus handed you a steaming cup of hot cocoa, along with a packet of biscuits. “Here, eat these so you can take some pain pills.” He glanced over to James, making the bespectacled boy rummage through the medicine box while Sirius set on getting a glass of water for you. 
“I don’t need any medicine, it will go away on its own.” You pleaded, covering your mouth full of biscoff and feeling flustered from all the attention. Sirius clearly disagreed, because the comment earned you a hard pinch on your bum. 
“Do what Moons said” He punctuated the order with a kiss to your forehead, letting you know he wasn’t really upset with you. Sirius may play stern, but he was really just silly and enjoyed ordering you around a bit, knowing that it made you heated and blushy. 
You set down your hot drink and half-eaten snack to take the pills and water, swallowing your pills and finishing the whole glass before you handed it back. 
“There you go,” James cooed, pulling you into his side. “That’s a good girl” 
You groaned, earning a dark chuckle from Remus.
"Poor baby," He teased, clearly not feeling very sorry for you.
It was going to be a trying night.
853 notes · View notes
depravitycentral · 4 months
Text
Yandere! Kyojuro Rengoku NSFW Profile
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Yandere! Kyojuro Rengoku x fem! reader
Tw: kidnapping, mentions of non-con, dub-con, breeding, non-consensual touching, dry humping, masturbation, panty sniffing, a brief mention about virginity being sacred but no explicit mention of whether reader is a virgin or not, Kyojuro is a virgin tho so corruption kink kind of, pillow humping, coercion, allusions to lactation kink and pregnancy kink, choking, spitting, Kyo gets sex advice from Tengen, Kyo picks you up at one point but remember he's literally a Hashira and could pick anyone up no matter their weight, fem reader, MDNI
I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!
WC: 12K
HABITS:
In general, Kyojuro isn’t an incessantly horny man. Not only does he hold women in a high respect and doesn’t inherently sexualize them, but to be quite honest he simply doesn’t have time to be regularly indulging in sex or even masturbation. He’s a busy man, and when others are settled under their covers, either sleeping or moaning in another’s ear, he’s out in the dark, dangerous night hunting demons.
And so despite being in the sexual prime of his life, Kyojuro doesn’t have a huge amount of experience. He’s never considered actually touching a woman before, mostly because he didn’t feel the urge to and because he firmly believes in the idea of saving himself for his wife and life partner.
And even once you step into his life he doesn’t magically become some sex-crazed monster – eventually he is, sure, but it’s gradual. It takes a while to reach that stage, for him to both desire you enough and desire sex enough to be wasting his time fantasizing about you and your body.
Little seeds will be planted in his mind as the weeks and month pass, his obsession slowly developing and leaving him floundering when small, inappropriate thoughts begin seeping into the edges of his mind.
He’s noticing the way your kimono dips down just a bit one day – your collarbones are pretty, and he can’t help but have a fleeting thought of how soft the skin of your neck and shoulders must be.
(He’ll return home that night and try to forget that thought, going through an even more extensive training regime than normal, but even by the end of the some four hour session, he’s still imagining how the skin of your collarbones must taste.)
He’s suddenly noticing that your voice gets higher when you get flustered, the pitch raising just slightly, enough for him to notice and mentally file away for future reference.
(Would your voice get higher if he were to fluster you? How would you sound when he’s just kissed you, your lips swollen and your eyes dazed? How would you sound when he’s touching you, his hands settling at your waist or cupping your breasts, or perhaps even slowly, carefully dipping his fingers inside of you, feeling you tighten up and clench down and gasp and writhe and moan his name - )
He becomes acutely aware of the way you always seem to bend over to pick things up, your clumsiness coming into play as he finds himself unconsciously moving to stand so that he has an unobstructed view as you bend over, his eyes blatantly fixed on the curve of your ass, his lips slightly parted.
(He’s definitely thinking of that image later that night, one of his rare nights off, with his hand wrapped deathly tight around his cock as he imagines you bending over for him - perhaps over his dining table, or maybe even over his knee as he gropes and squeezes and plays with you.) 
The thoughts feel largely out of place initially, more often than not leaving him slightly dazed and confused because he’s never thought about how soft and smooth a woman’s thighs must be, nor about how your hands feel so small in comparison to his: less calloused and rough and warmer.
It’s strange, but as his delusions grow deeper and his feelings for you only intensify, Kyojuro finds himself rationalizing that it isn’t so disrespectful to be thinking this way – you’re practically already courting, and while you may not yet possess the Rengoku name, you will soon enough.
And once you’re wed?
Well, surely you must know what married couples do – pleasuring one another, loving one another, spending hours tangled in the sheets with gasps and cries ringing through their ears, sweat and kisses and cum covering every inch of their bodies. And if that’s your future – which he’s positive it is – then what’s the harm in imagining it?
He imagines all sorts of domestic scenarios with you, so why should it matter if the clothing is removed and your pretty smile is replaced with a pretty moan?
It’s fine – and so, while he still doesn’t wring himself dry to you every day, he’s sure to settle down and explicitly imagine being with you in an intimate way at least three times a week – even if that means unzipping the pants of his uniform with a demon’s blood still staining his hands, freshly killed and sending adrenaline through his veins.
(Adrenaline that then gets channeled into imagining the way you’d be so proud of him for outsmarting the demon and successfully eliminating it – perhaps you’d be so proud that you’d be willing to get on your knees for him, your soft lips wrapping around him and sucking, your little moans making his head spin and your nimble fingers kneading and groping at his balls. Ah yes, what a lovely thought…)
So while he’s not the most horny yandere of his comrades, he’s certainly no saint. But really, how could he be when you’re so damn alluring?
When it comes to actually touching himself, Kyojuro finds that his pleasure comes easiest when he’s actually doing the work, actually putting effort into getting himself off. It feels okay to simply pump his fist up and down, but it’s not enough – because being with you would be so much more overwhelming, even just your body heat alone making the experience ten times more powerful, more intense, more enjoyable.
He wants to immerse himself in the fantasy of actually having your soft body to kiss and touch and love, and he finds the best way to really achieve this is to fuck something rather than fucking his fist. But he’s a loyal man, and would sooner end his life than fall into the arms of another woman, even if only for a night.
And so, he compromises by fashioning a pillow – one with a covering of your favorite color, of course – into a substitute for yourself.
And while it feels good to have the pillow at all, Kyojuro finds that even just the simple pillow isn’t enough – it needs more, to be more representative of you, to just be better at convincing him that it’s really your wet, warm cunt he’s sinking into with every thrust rather than the dense plush of the pillow.
And so, with dark ink, he musters up every bit of artistic talent he possesses and carefully, oh so carefully draws in your features as much as he’s able to. He’s certainly no artist, but he’s slow and methodical with bringing to life this poor stand in for your own body – paying attention to every small detail, wanting everything to be as life-like as possible.
Your eyes are drawn on, correct down to the shape, even going so far as to try and ink on every eyelash, the flecks of color in your irises, any eye bags or wrinkles you may have.
He’s drawing your nose, the outline of jaw and neck, and, of course, your lips. He’s drawn them so that they’re permanently parted, leaving you looking like you’re gasping in pleasure, even going so far as to try and shade them so that they appear to be wet.
(Presumably with spit, or perhaps something a bit thicker, a bit hotter – it depends on the fantasy.)
The drawings continue down your body, making sure to outline your neck and shoulders, even down to your hands and fingers. (One hand is drawn with all your fingers curled and your thumb touching your index finger, so that a circular hole is made.)
He’s drawn your breasts, nipples, the swell of your tummy, your hips and thighs, even your calves and the arch of your ankles.
(He’s drawn you so that your thighs are spread slightly, giving him a view into what lies between – he’s not entirely sure of the technicalities of female anatomy, so he’s negating drawing any specifics and instead simply leaving the area blank, not willing to misrepresent your lovely, gorgeous figure – that’d feel disrespectful to you, as if the fact that he’s essentially created a sex doll in your image isn’t. He’s seen enough mothers breastfeeding children to have an idea of the upper half of a woman’s body, but he still shivers in excitement at learning how your upper body looks – though he thinks he has a good idea based upon how your clothing fits you, his eyes greedily observing the way the material is taut around your chest.)
Once everything is drawn, it’s easy to tear holes in the pillow – one between your legs, one in the curled circle of your hand, one between your pretty, parted lips.
Once he’s completed his work he'll eagerly, gingerly bring the pillow to his bed, gulping excitedly and immediately stripping off his clothing. His cock is already rock hard, swollen and pressing against his lower stomach, the tip a bright red and shining in the firelight of the room, precum soaking the skin.
He’d managed to get a guaranteed night off-duty this evening, which means there won’t be a single interruption. He’ll set the pillow down flat, excitement already licking at his every muscle, the room feeling incredibly hot already. He’s quick to settle himself above the pillow, his weight resting on both knees and his forearm that’s pressed against the ground. His free hand comes up to lightly trace at the drawn-on curve of your jaw, his face mere inches from where he imagines yours to be.
My flame, you are so beautiful… He’ll tell you, tongue flicking out to lick at his lips.
His cock twitches as he leans down to softly press his lips against your drawn ones, the kiss soft and slow and meaningful, the Hashira pouring every ounce of affection he feels for you into the action.
He imagines you kissing back; would you be hesitant, embarrassed and shy? Or would you be just as eager, perhaps wrapping your arms around his neck and running your hands through his hair, maybe even pulling on it, biting his lip and letting him know how badly you need him?
He groans, his eyes closed, lips working harder against the pillow, his tongue coming out to dart against the hole cut out, imagining your own tongue tangling with his. His hand wanders down from your jaw to your breast, fingers groping and squeezing at nothing but cotton, but the motion alone has his hips bucking, cock brushing slightly against the pillow. It makes him hiss, pulling back from the kiss and licking his lips, his eyes already half lidded and dazed.
Forgive me, I can’t wait any longer, I must be inside you.
His voice is breathless, and as he shimmeys upwards slightly, he’s spreading his legs a bit, thighs flexing as he leans back, audible inhaling as he nudges his tip against the hole between your drawn on legs, already smearing precum against the material from just a bit of contact.
His fingers are trembling slightly as he pushes in inch by inch, going slowly just like he would if it was really you, wanting to make sure you adjust to him and he feels good, so that you’ll be ready for him to absolutely ravish you.
He’s groaning as he bottoms out, balls pressed tightly against the pillow, his chest heaving as he stares wildly at your drawn on face. You feel – you feel amazing, my flame, oh –
He presses his forehead against yours as he slowly pulls back, the muscles of his ass and lower back going taut, before sinking in slowly again, an uneven sigh of your name slipping past his lips.
You feel so tight around me, does it feel good? Does it feel good to have me inside you?
Just the phrasing of that makes his head spin, the idea that he’s inside of you (even if he’s really not) making his hips snap to life, his previously slow pace picking up quickly.
He’s panting already, all the breathing control he’s mastered flying out the window because this is different – it’s your body underneath him, your pretty pussy sucking him in over and over and over, your moans ringing in his ears as you cry out his name again and again.
Kyojuro Kyojuro Kyojuro, please it feels so good!
He’s imagining the way you’d moan his name, how your voice would get so breathy, your fingers raking down his back, your legs wrapping around his hips.
He groans your name again, hips snapping into yours hard enough to push the pillow up with every thrust, his mind running wild as he imagines how your breasts would bounce at the force, practically begging to be squeezed and sucked at. A hand comes up and begins groping at nothing again, his thumb brushing over where he’s drawn on your nipple, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as the pleasure begins mounting.
It just feels too damn good – it’s so easy to imagine you below him, crying out his name as he fucks you hard enough to leave you utterly destroyed, your perfect little cunt massaging him in just the right ways.
He’s chanting your name under his breath, his eyes wide and staring down at your inked face, his voice getting faster and more strained as his muscles start clenching, his balls tightening and his hips stuttering and his heart racing because oh god oh fuck oh fuck –
He’s pulling out at the last minute, cum spurting all over the pillowcase, his moans of your name filling the room as his hand quickly tugs, wrist twisting and moving so fast it’s nearly a blur. The pleasure is immense, leaving his toes curling and every hair on his body standing up straight, feeling as if fire is running through his veins.
After the last few sad spurts dribble from his oversensitive, swollen tip, he’s left gasping, swallowing hard and letting a broad grin slip across his face. With still heavy breaths, he pushes back any stray hair from his forehead, the bit of sweat gathered there leaving him sighing. He’s quick to lean down, pressing a soft, long kiss against your drawn-on lips, a whispered I love you murmured against the pillow.
He has to swallow hard as he pulls back, euphoria still swimming in his veins at the intensity of his orgasm. Pleasuring himself to the thought of you is nearly too much - it leaves him breathless, feeling a high that doesn’t fade for hours after, and as he lays down beside the pillow, still stained with cum as he pulls it against his chest, imagining spooning you, he can’t help but shiver.
Because if it feels this good to simply imagine, how would the real you feel?
FAVORITE BODY PARTS:
Your thighs
In general, Kyojuro thinks you’re absolutely beautiful.
He finds you to be the single most attractive woman on Earth, and even if he’s never seen your body in anything more form fitting than a kimono or a slayer uniform, he’s absolutely sure that whatever awaits him beneath the cloth will be heaven, the thing of wet dreams.
And the moment he finally, finally has you bare below him, your pretty skin on display and waiting to be kissed, fondled, marked as his, he finds that he’s not disappointed in any way.
You’re gorgeous – and, naturally, the most gorgeous part of you is your thighs. There’s something about the sight of them that gets him swallowing hard, his eyes growing a bit brighter and wider.
His palms get a bit sweatier when he sees the way they splay out when you sit down, the fat jiggling with every step you take, the way they just look so touchable and squeezable. He nearly has a full body reaction the moment your thighs are out on display, his body temperature rising to extreme heights and his attention straining to stay on you rather than your pretty legs.
Even in settings where soft, loving affection is occurring, he's still eyeing them, appreciating the way you look in his clothing, the simple overshirt you’d put on that morning stopping mid thigh and leaving very little of your upper legs to the imagination.
 (You’ll notice the way his fingers slowly creep down from your waist, moving inch by inch until they’re finally laying over the curve of your thigh, idly rubbing and pressing into the warm flesh, marveling at just how soft you are.)
And when you’re both intimate with one another, his enjoyment of your thighs will be more than apparent – he’s always touching them, his hand coming down to squeeze and stay there, almost latching onto you as he throws your leg over his shoulder, his hips never stopping the brutal pace he’s established.
Every position he fucks you in involves your thighs somehow – he’s forcing you to wrap them around his hips when he's hovering above you and pressing down on you so tightly you’re only able to breath in him.
When he’s folded you into the deepest mating press possible, he’s holding you in position by pressing directly against the back of your thighs rather than your knees, often leaving fingertip shaped bruises there from the sheer force and strength he has to keep at bay every time he slips inside you.
Even when he’s fucking you from behind, your pretty ass on display as he sinks so deeply into you that it drives him crazy, he’s making sure to line his own thighs up to press against yours, relishing in the way his balls clap against your clit and the soft, plush fat of your upper inner thighs.
He’s paying extra attention to nip and tease you when he’s got his head between your legs, sucking hickeys and pressing kisses against your inner thighs as he slowly trails up from the inside of your knees.
He wants you to cage in his head when you’re nearing your orgasm, to squeeze as tightly as possible while he licks and moans and thrusts his tongue into you, the only thing he can see and taste and feel and hear being you you you.
Even when you’ve got your lips wrapped around his cock, his eyes are fixated on the way your thighs look splayed out while you kneel on them, his hips bucking as he zones out slightly, the pleasurable feeling of your mouth making him moan and struggle to maintain his composure.
He just really, really likes that area of your body, and while there’s certainly no part of you that he doesn’t like, his penchant for touching you there and always having a hand on your thigh will be very, very apparent to you.
So if you want to tease him, to see the way his eyes darken a bit and his smile grows a bit sinister, sit down with your legs slightly spread, stare at him with those pretty, pouty eyes of yours, and tell him that you’ve been feeling sore, will you please give me a massage, Kyo? I miss your touch…
You’ll have trouble walking the next day, and the littering of bruises, hickeys, and bite marks against your thighs will serve as proud trophies for Kyojuro, who will insist you not cover them up.
His mouth
In the context of sex, Kyojuro lives to please. He’s being completely honest when he firmly tells you that your pleasure is his, because he really does feel that way.
When you touch him it makes his head spin and his hips involuntarily buck, but when he touches you?
Well, more often than not he’s coming alongside you when he’s fingering you, that telltale groan of o-oh and the wet warmth you’ll feel against your skin letting you know exactly how watching you fall apart is affecting him. And similarly, he gets very, very into it when he’s got his mouth working at you, his talented tongue drawing tight circles over your clit and his hair tickling the inside of your thighs.
Every sexual encounter with Kyojuro will involve him eating you out in some capacity, both because he wants you to feel good, and also because he genuinely enjoys the taste of you and the feel of you against his tongue.
And he’s good at it too – he starts off slow, teasing you with playful nipping and smiles against your skin, his eyes looking up at you the whole time, forcing you to keep eye contact because he wants you to see how he pleasures you, for you to see how right he looks between your legs.
He’ll ghost around where you really need him for a while, making sure to pepper kisses at the juncture between your pelvis and thigh, the area right above your clit, even your lower tummy and hips.
He’ll kitten lick at your folds, humming against your skin and letting the vibrations send shivers up your spine, his tongue dipping just a bit deeper each time, until he’s using his thumbs to physically spread your lips, lewd slurping noises filling your ears as he licks and sucks, pleasure making you sigh his name.
After he’s sufficiently teases you, he’ll press a few more kisses to your thigh, then move upwards, still staring you in the eyes, before licking his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your clit.
He’ll tell you that he loves your body, my flame, especially this special spot that always makes you moan my name, before flicking his tongue along it, enjoying the way you jerk at the acute stimulation.
He’s perfected the art of keeping a steady, consistent pattern against you, making sure that the rhythm can let the pleasure build, a dull warmth spreading through your entire lower body.
Meanwhile, he’ll always slip a finger inside of you, curling and pressing against areas he knows you like, feeling the way your thighs twitch and your moans get louder.
He likes when you run your hands through his hair as he uses his mouth on you, especially if you lightly tug or pull; the pleasure tinged with slight pain makes him blindly hump at whatever is closest to him.
And he’ll always, always keep going until you’ve reached your high, even if that means spending hours between your legs; anything to feel the way your cunt flutters against his lips, how you gasp and practically wail his name, your thighs seizing up and your slick coating his chin and lips.
His eyes close as he eagerly laps it up, addicted to your taste – and as he pulls back, his lower face glistening with your arousal and spit, he’ll kiss you, pulling you into a passionate, tongue-heavy kiss.
Even outside of going down on you, Kyojuro finds ways to utilize his mouth in regards to you in every situation he can – he’s always pressing kisses against your lips, cheek, forehead, neck, and knuckles, liking the way that it flusters you and leaves you biting your lip.
He’s taking your hand in his and pressing kisses against your fingertips, singing your praises between presses of his lips, until he’s eventually slipping a finger into his mouth, holding your gaze as he sucks and runs his tongue up and down your skin, the intensity of the moment making you simultaneously aroused and uncomfortable.
He’ll even go so far as to share your toothbrush, just because he likes the idea of a little bit of him being in a little bit of you.
(You’re very aware of this, even without the whole toothbrush misfortune – his penchant for always, always finishing inside of you makes this abundantly clear.)
DRIVE:
Despite Kyojuro’s delusions about your relationship and how you feel for him, even he can’t misread the way you react so negatively to his mentions of being sexual with you. You always freeze up, eyes going wide, your head shaking no and your voice hurried as you tell him please, please no Kyojuro, I’m not – I’m not ready for that, please don’t!
 He’ll respect that, firmly nodding and tell you to not worry, my love, I can wait for as long as it takes!
He doesn’t really understand it, however, because in his mind there really shouldn’t be a reason why you aren’t ready – you’re his, and you know it.
 You’re living together (even if that wasn’t your choice) and you share a bed together when he’s home. You bath together (something that Kyojuro enjoys very, very much, his hands always wandering, his breath hot in your ear as he tells you that you’re beautiful, something hard pressing against you when he’s washing your hair), share a toothbrush, eat together and wear his clothing – you’re a couple, a partnership between a man and a woman, and wanting to express your love physically is a natural urge.
It’s normal and healthy, and something he wants so, so very badly to do with you. But he understands that perhaps you’re not comfortable with that level of intimacy quite yet – he’s aware of how society views women who’ve lost their virginity (he’d never explicitly asked you if you’ve touched another person, but he assumes you’ve saved yourself for him as he’s saved himself for you), and although you’d be giving it to the man you’ll spend the rest of your life with, he can respect that you might simply be afraid to lose something you’ve learned is cherished.
He’s disappointed by your rejection of sex, but he means it when he says he’ll wait for you to be ready and won’t force it upon you. That does not, however, mean that Kyojuro will completely abstain from interacting with you sexually. He just can’t help himself – sure, he may not be actively fucking you, but he finds other ways to placate the carnal desires practically begging him to rip off your clothing and press you against him while he makes you moan and writhe and fills you with him him him.
It starts small – he’s kissing you every chance he gets, letting them get longer and deeper, lasting sometimes minutes at a time while small moans and groans slip from his mouth into yours. His hand initially starts at your shoulder when he does this, but as time passes he gets bolder – it moves to your waist, your cheek, your hip, even over your ribcage right below your clothed breast, the edges of his fingers brushing against the underside of the pudge fat as moving up slowly, up until he pulls away from the kiss for air.
When kissing you becomes not enough, he moves to hugging you for longer periods of time, getting tighter and purposefully pressing parts of his body against you. He’s always been touchy, and you’ve been getting hugs for nearly as long as you’ve known him (even before his infatuation formed, back when his feelings for you were strictly platonic – now, though, they’re anything but).
But these hugs are different – he’s wrapping an arm around your waist and forcing you flush with his body, smiling at you with those wide, unsettling eyes while his breathing picks up ever so slightly, his pelvis pressed tightly against your own so that you can feel something – something warm, big, almost feeling like it’s moving against you, like it’s throbbing.
He’ll ask you to give him a pair of your panties when he leaves for missions, smiling so brightly and boyishly when you hesitantly deliver the piece of cloth to his outstretched palm, licking his lips and bringing the garment up to inhale deeply before stuffing it away into one of the many pockets of his Demon Corps uniform, telling you with a laugh to choose a pair that’s been used next time please, my flame.
(You never ask why he wants the underwear while he’s gone, simply because you think you know the answer already, but somehow hearing it from him would be worse, like confirming a truth you desperately wished to be false. Plus, you’re sure he’d tell you in extreme detail exactly how he uses them, too, perhaps even giving you a visual demonstration because he’s just so eager to interact with you, to feel your pretty eyes on him.)
It’s disturbing, but it’s a small comfort to know that he may be pushy and make you uncomfortable but he’ll never truly force you into sex. Kyojuro may be many things, but he’s at least a man of his word – even if he very, very badly wishes he wasn’t sometimes.
And so as wonderful as kissing you deeper and hugging you tighter and fucking his fist to your panties is, Kyojuro eventually decides that he needs more. He needs to get as close to actually fucking you as he can without being inside of you, just as he promised.
And so the perfect solution is really just that simple – running through the motions without violating your wishes. Kyojuro is ecstatic just thinking about – which is why, when the mood strikes him, his cock straining against his trousers and his fingers itching to reach out and touch, he’ll strip off his clothing, smiling at you and running his knuckles against your cheek while telling you to take your clothing off please, love, I want to make you feel good.
And really, as much as you don’t want to, it’s easier on both of you if you just do – your options are let him hump you like a dog, or be forced to touch him, your own hand wrapped around his cock as he moans and sighs and thrusts into your hand while telling you how good you look. And so, once your clothing is off, Kyojuro will look at you with those eyes, licking his lips slowly and walking up to you, pressing himself against you again and letting his hands sit firmly at your waist.
My flame, he’ll murmur to you, his voice low and his breath a bit hitched because his cock is pressed up against your thigh and god, even that touch alone is enough to make his knees feel weak. Lay down for me.
He’ll have you lay on your back, your legs spread for him and your arms over your head. He’ll stand for a while, simply staring at you, the sight of you in such a provocative position making his cheeks tinge pink and his throat feel a bit dry. But soon there’s too much precum dribbling from his tip to ignore, and he’ll climb over you, hovering over you and wrapping your leg around his waist, so that his face is mere inches from yours and his cock is pressed against your navel.
He’ll swallow, leaning down a bit to press his lips against yours, relishing in the warmth of your body pressed against his own. Kisses are pressed against the corner of your mouth, then down the length of your jaw, down your neck and finally to your shoulder, the movements slow and meaningful despite the near painful aching between his legs. His hips seem to move on their own, slowly rocking forward and backwards, the friction of his cock rubbing against your skin and against the tufts of hair making him hiss slightly.
His lips find purchase at your ear, deep sighs and heavy pants impossible to ignore as he slowly picks up his pace. The stimulation feels good, but it’s not enough for him - he has to move faster, harder, be better, because this is really a chance for him to show you exactly what you’re missing out on. This is his opportunity to show you that if he were to do this inside of you, it would feel so much better for you – it’s his opportunity to convince you that sex with him would feel good, that you’d be satisfied, that he could please you.
And he commits to that desire – one forearm is pressed against the bed right beside your head supporting his weight while the other wanders from your waist up to grope and squeeze at your breast, deft fingers pinching and rolling your nipple between them. He’ll groan your name, leaning down to lick at your lips and tell you that you’re so very beautiful, his voice strained. He’ll bring the hand down to ghost over your stomach, right above where his cock is grinding and thrusting, moving to bury his nose against your neck while he chants your name. His voice is a bit slurred, the pleasure making his brows draw tightly together, his hips snapping and flexing harder and harder.
He’s close, and he tells you as much – muffled against your neck, his low groan of f-feels too good, you feel so good love…
 With his orgasm approaching, he resorts to kissing your neck again, his hair tickling you and the feeling of his cock dragging against your skin over and over making your toes curl involuntarily, because even as humiliating and uncomfortable as this is, isn’t there something oddly sexy about this big, strong man making himself a fool on you, losing him mind from just the feel of you?
He’s desperate for the pleasure he’s right on the brink of as he blindly reaches out to find your hand, his fingers interlocking with yours tightly, the moan that rises in the back of his throat high and uneven and raw. His whole body shakes as something warm and thick spurts against your stomach, a few drops landing on the undersides of your breasts, his breath heavy in your ear as he slowly, oh so slowly thrusts, riding out the last waves of his pleasure.
His hand is still gripping yours, and after a moment he pulls back and kisses you again, his tongue immediately pushing into your mouth and insistent, the red on his cheeks even more pronounced now.
It’s still not ideal, grinding and humping against you like this, but Kyojuro is content to do it as many times as it takes until you finally, finally feel ready to let him love you like you deserve, to let him make you gasp and cry out his name and gush around him until you’re too incoherent to even think.
MAIN THREE KINKS:
Praise
Kyojuro is very vocal in bed. He’s constantly talking to you – telling you how good you feel, telling you when something in particular feels best, warning you when his orgasm is dangerously near, just producing a constant stream of commentary as he fucks you. His voice is breathy the whole time, always turned up at the ends of his sentences because the pleasure is too strong, forcing him to slur his words together because fuck you feel good.
A lot of his vocalness stems from the fact that he’s just so excited to be intimate with you – he’s been fantasizing about this for a long time, long nights spent with his eyes closed and his cheeks a bit pink,
imagining the way you’d look underneath the pretty kimonos and clothing you wear.
He’s imagined what your face would look like when he’s cupping your breasts, thumbing at your nipples and making your brows twitch, biting your lip as you tell him to squeeze just a hair harder, pressing yourself against him because having his hands on you feel too good.
He’s imagined how your thighs would tremble when he’s got two fingers buried in your cunt, curling and scissoring and rubbing against your sensitive walls while you curl your toes and whine his name.
He’s even imagined the way your pussy would feel as he’s fucking you, how it would clench down on him hard, practically begging him to stay inside, begging for every last drop of cum he can possibly give.
He’s fantasized and daydreamed and imagined for months on end, each scenario only making him more anxious to finally have his hands on you, the buildup to actual intimacy with you leaving him wildly excited. And so, now that you’re finally with him, your perfect body warm and soft to the touch just as he knew you’d be, Kyojuro can’t help himself from telling you every little thing he’s thinking and feeling. He’s rambling on about how pretty you look when you’re underneath him, your body spread out for him and completely bare.
He’ll smile at you and kiss at every available inch of skin as his hands squeeze and knead at your sides, leaning back to admire the view of a flustered, bashful you underneath him all with a dreamy sigh and a small you’re so perfect, my flame, exactly as I imagined you’d be. And really, it would be sweet if it weren’t for the way he continues on to tell you exactly what he’d imagined, explicit details about how he'd fucked to his fist to the thought of you writhing below him, what pace he’d used, how he’d tightened up his grip to simulate how tight you’d grip him, even going so far as to tell you that this particular fantasy had him producing much more cum than normal when he eventually came.
It’s too much information and will leave you feeling disturbed and a bit scared, but Kyojuro doesn’t seem to notice – he’s too deeply enthralled with the pleasure you’re giving him, the words seeing to slip off his tongue without him even realizing it as he thrusts into you with an almost inhuman speed.
But of course, even as lovely as it is to detail all of the fantasies he’s had of you, what you’ll most often get with him is praise. He generally thinks that you’re enchanting, viewing you as something perfect and lovely and so, so very wonderful, but when he’s intimate with you this perception of you only intensifies.
Every small burst of pleasure you give him only solidifies his infatuation with you, and he can’t stop himself from telling you how beautiful you look on your knees for him, your pretty lips wrapped around his cock and your eyes prickling with tears because he’s too big for you to take down your throat. He’ll just smile, hand cupping the back of your hand and slowly easing you down his length, biting his lip at the sight and sighing out that you’re doing so well, you feel so – so good, yes love oh, suck just like that, it feels amazing when you do that.
He’ll have you perched on his lap, tits bouncing in his face while his hands clutch at your hips and move you up and down his cock, his eyes rolling to the back of his head and a moan of your name falling past his lips, small chants of yes yes yes and gasps of your name filling the air between you.
He’ll lick and suck at your clit with his head buried between your thighs, a lithe finger working in and out of you as he moans appreciatively against you, your taste on his tongue forcing him to pull back a moment to lick a long, flat stripe against your folds, his chin and lips visibly glistening as you tells you that you taste so delicious, I can’t get enough of you, give me more please my flame, I need more of you.
And when you’re gushing around his fingers a few minutes later, desperately grabbing at the pillow under your head and his hair, Kyojuro can only brokenly groan, his own orgasm not far behind yours as he thrusts his hips against the floor. You’re just so pretty and perfect and wonderful, and how can he not tell you?
And after he’s emptied himself inside of you, he’ll curl you into his arms and hold you, breathing into your ear and telling you how good you did, how you did so well and made him feel so good. Kisses are pressed against the crown of your head while he does this, his compliments sounding so genuine and reverent that you’ll be equal parts flattered and uncomfortable because god, he really means it when he says you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, doesn’t he?
Kyojuro of course loves to be praised in turn – any positive comment from you is met with eager and wide eyes, his ministrations and motions only increasing, his desperation to please you and make you feel good nearly palpable. Your moans of his name and cries of yes and right there and please making something smug and warm swell in his chest, his obsession only deepening because you just look so right when you’re falling apart on his cock.
He lives to please you, so please praise him – he’ll return the favor with so much passion and vigor that you’ll almost be embarrassed for him at how high and whiny and lewd the groan he lets out when he spills inside you is.
Almost, because he’ll follow it up with heavy breaths and a stuttered that – that was for you, because of you, because you feel so fucking good.
Oral Fixation
There’s something about the taste of you that he simply can’t get enough of. Even before he stole you away, Kyojuro was quick to snatch any small item of yours that could potentially taste like you.
He managed to snag the small vial of lip balm he’s seen you use – the one that his eyes always get stuck on, watching the way you pucker and pop your lips, the smacking noises obscene and provocative and sexy. You’d left it on the table after a lunch he’d invited you to, and Kyojuro – ever the gentleman – had pocketed it with the intention to return it to you later. Only, he didn’t – it stayed in his pocket until later that night when he’d fished it out, carefully opened it, and pressed the nearly empty balm against his own lips, closing his eyes and sighing because oh, if he licks his lips now he’ll taste you…
He’s got a cloth he keeps in his pocket that’s reserved specifically for you – when you’re eating with him, going on outgoings that are strictly platonic to you but are anything but to him, he’ll use the cloth and wipe off bits of food sitting on your lips, some stray sauce on the corner of your mouth. The cloth is kept in his pocket until later, when his cock is bright red and swollen and drooling precum for you, his lip caught between his teeth as he uses the cloth to tug and twist at his sensitive head, the friction of the cotton against his skin making him shiver and writhe and curl his toes all the while your name falls from his lips.
And once he’s done, he’s quick to bring the cloth up to his mouth, tongue lolling against the material as he tastes his cum and you mixed together, a flavor that gets the last sad little spurt of cum oozing from his swollen tip, the sensation making him groan lowly.
Really, he just likes the taste of you – and once your physical relationship begins, this penchant he has for tasting you only increases.
Now, he doesn’t have to be sneaky – no longer does he have to rely on placing your used utensils in his mouth in order to get even the slightest bit of you on his tongue.
Now he can just wrap an arm around your waist and press you close, mouth dipping down to slot his lips against yours, a moan muffled against your mouth because god, you’re so sweet and warm and he wants to drink in everything you can give him.
(Yes you’ve watched him kiss you and pull back, swallowing and licking his lips, telling you that your spit tastes delicious, my flame, please give me more before diving back in, kissing you and sucking on your tongue so hard you can practically feel his desperation.)
Now he can press kisses against your neck and jawline, tongue lathing up and down your collarbones while he licks and sucks, the dark bruising making his eyes light up and his breathing a bit uneven.
(Normally Kyojuro is strictly against harming you, but there’s something about hickeys that makes him sway ever so slightly on this rule. Perhaps it’s because he’s the cause of the dull pain, or maybe it’s because every time he’s working at your neck and shoulders you always let out these little whines that go straight to his cock, your fingers gripping tighter at his hair. Sometimes, when he’s particularly pent up and desperate for you, he swears he can even feel your cunt throbbing through the layers of clothing separating you, as if you’re just as needy and frantic for him as he is you. Ah, what a lovely thought.)
Now he can just gently press you against the wall, getting to his knees and throwing your leg over his shoulder while he pushing the pretty robe he’d bought you up to your hips, exposing the skimpy panties he'd bought for you as a present.
(They’re red, of course, with pretty lace details around the edges and a little bow at the very top, almost as if you’re a present for him to open and play with. He’d bought them for you before he’d stolen you away, gifted them to you with a bright smile and not an ounce of shame, and had insisted you wear them despite your discomfort after noticing an odd stain on  them – one that left a dark spot that Kyojuro refused to explain, only laughing and pressing a kiss to your cheek when asked.)
He’ll lick over your clothed cunt, humming against you and chuckling when you squirm at the vibrations. He’s suckling at your clit over the cloth, those eyes of his staring up at you from between your legs, the taste of you strong and making his mind spin even before he’s actually touching you.
But soon, Kyojuro can’t settle for just your phantom taste – he needs more, needs you, and so he’s suddenly standing up, picking you up with no effort and settling you down onto the bed, immediately laying between your legs. He’s spreading your thighs and licking his lips, rolling your panties down and off your legs before absolutely devouring you – he’s licking and sucking loudly enough to make lewd, wet suction noises fill the room.
There’s wet schluck-schluck noises ringing in your ears as he pushes a finger inside, all the way down to his second knuckle and curling them, the pads of his fingers brushing against the spot that gets you moaning and your hips bucking up to meet his thrusts. All the while he’s playing with your clit, tongue tracing shapes and spelling his name, humming and moaning and sucking at you like a man starved. His stamina is high, and he’s keeping up the pace until you’re clutching at his hair and moaning his name like a prayer, the pleasure making you writhe and gasp and gush all over his fingers and chin.
But once Kyojuro gets a taste of you, he’s not simply satisfied with just one orgasm – he needs more, to feel you clenching down on his fingers and your clit throbbing as he fucks you through the high.
He’ll simply laugh at your whines of too sensitive, I can’t Kyo please, keeping his steady pace and pressing a kiss against your clit that makes your hips jerk.
You can do it, he’ll tell you, slick and your cum smeared all across his lips, chin and cheeks. You can give me another one, let me make you feel good, my flame.
And even while he’s fucking you his fixation doesn’t decrease – you feel like heaven around his cock, sure, with your warm, soft walls clenching down on him and your slick coating his thighs, but that doesn’t stop his fingers from snaking up and pressing against your lips.
He'll push them inside two at a time, hot breaths against your ear telling you to suck, ngh suck for me, his hips snapping into you with more fervor as he feels your lips close around him, throat tightening and your little gagging noises as he thrusts his fingers in and out.
You’re just so beautiful, and although his fixation mostly manifests as him using his mouth on you, he certainly won’t deny you if you were to flip the script. You get on your knees for him, licking your lips and pawing at his cock over his pants?
The pants are off faster than you can blink, his hand already at the back of your head and guiding you down his length, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he lets out a low groan of yes, o-oh, you’re so warm, I’ve been thinking of this all day-!
He won’t deny you when you press kisses against his exposed chest, your tongue tracing around his sensitive nipple and feeling the skin pebble, even grazing your teeth against the sensitive skin just to hear his breath hitch and the audible gulp that follows.
He just thinks the ultimate form of intimacy is to taste each other, and Kyojuro is always eager to get closer to you, and to prove just how much he loves you – and, of course, just how depraved you make him.  
Breeding
Kyojuro will get you pregnant. It’s not even a matter of discussion as far as he’s concerned – yes, it’s a sexual fantasy for him to stuff you so full of his cum that you’re literally leaking it, but it’s more than that. He genuinely wants to build a family with you, to have you as his sweet little housewife that he dotes on and provides for and cares for, and to complete the fantasy he needs a few children running around.
He gets this dopey grin and blushing cheeks when he imagines you with a toddler clutching at your leg and a baby nursing at your breast, something inside his chest swelling with pride and happiness. And so, every time he fucks you he will be finishing inside, stuffing you as full as he physically can.
The image of you pregnant gets his breathing shallow; something about seeing you round, your breasts swollen and nipples so sensitive you sharply gasp when he so much as brushes against them making him shift his pants, his skin feeling hot and clammy. He likes the idea of knocking you up so that you’re completely, utterly dependent on him for every little thing – you’ll be so sweet and lovely and incapable, allowing him to attend to your every need. You’ll need him to walk any significant distance, to reach things on high shelves, to help you get up and out of chairs, to help with anything, really, and Kyojuro is more than happy to aid you in your time of need.
But even outside of actually getting you pregnant, the kink also satisfies some of his more shameful needs, some of his more masculine and carnal needs. After all, breeding you means coming inside you, filling you to the brim with his cum, something only he can provide you.
There’s just something about the idea of leaving you full with something so utterly him that gets him hot under the collar, his fingers twitching eagerly because just the thought makes him desperate to get his hands on you. He's not too terribly possessive, all things considered, but something about the idea of his cum settling inside you just feels right in a way he can’t describe, almost as if you were made to take it. As if you were made to take him, really, if the way your perfect little pussy sucks him in so well is any indication.
Besides, every time he finishes inside he’ll pull back and just stare, watching with bright eyes at the way his cum slowly dribbles out of you, white staining against the curve of your ass, his fingers coming up to scoop up the leaking bits and stuff them back inside you.
(And he will finish inside every time he fucks you, and even when your fist is wrapped around his girth or your lips are pressed against his base, tip making you gag at how deep he is in your throat. He’ll warn you with a near-yell of ‘m close before pushing you down and spreading your legs so quickly that it knocks the breath out of you, nestling his tip just inside you and coming, the sheer volume and force of the spurts making you squirm because you can feel it.)
There’s lots of talk about how you mustn’t waste anything he gives you, how you must keep every last drop inside you, his voice strained and breathy as he groans that into your ear, a thrust punctuating each word and making you clutch onto him for dear life because he’s fucking you meanly, every clap of his hips against yours making you physically scoot up until you reach the edge of the bed.
There’s something about the idea of stuffing you full of his cum that makes Kyojuro near feral, his hips seeming to have a mind of their own as they snap and pound against you, his cock pushing deeper and deeper and deeper, tip nestling further inside you with every thrust.
While he’s fucking you, the only thing running through his mind (aside from the constant stream of compliments towards you and the indescribable feeling of how fucking warm you are) is a mantra of needing to get deeper, to go as far inside you as he can, to press right up against your womb so that when his abs flex and his pace stutters, a shallow gasp and low groan rolling past his lips, his cum can shoot directly where it needs to go. It can spurt and splatter and flood your cute little pussy, each twitch of his cock giving you more and more and more, until it’s literally leaking out of you, even while he’s still stuffed inside you.
And Kyojuro, ever the talkative lover, is more than happy to narrate the process – his orgasms always follow a rather wanton groan of your name, his voice strained and uneven as he tells you to take it, o-oh take it take it take it, take every fucking drop ngh yes yes yes!
He’ll press down on your stomach as he finishes, the sensation making you impossibly tighter, the motion forcing his cum to shoot even deeper into you, his eyes wide in wonder and lust as if he can see the way his cock is twitching and throbbing, pushing out everything it can give you.
His voice nearly awed as he asks if you feel that, my love? I’m breeding this lovely pussy, does it feel good? It’s feels likes heaven for me, and soon you’ll be rounded and glowing and carrying my child.
He’ll pause to press a kiss against your nipple, tongue flicking out to tease the sensitive skin, before cupping it with his hand and squeezing, his own voice turning a bit darker as he tells you that soon your breasts will be so swollen and heavy, you’ll be feeding our child, nursing our baby…
He sucks at your nipple, hard. I’m sure you’ll taste divine – you’ll give me a taste too, I’m sure.
He’ll run his hand along your stomach, sucking in a sharp breath and telling you that you’ll be full soon, that you’ll be swollen and big and his, your body proving to him exactly who you belong to, exactly who kisses you and fucks you and gives you what your body is made for.
He just really, really wants a family with you, so don’t be surprised when he forces you to lay by his side for hours after sex, his cock keeping you stuffed full, not allowing a single drop of cum to leak out, his hand pressed firmly against your stomach as he rambles on and on about baby names and how he’ll be there for the entire birth, how he hopes the baby has his hair and your personality, how he’ll protect the both of you from demons until his dying breath.
It would be sweet, really, if he wasn’t so insistent, if he didn’t have twenty names already picked out for you to choose from, if he wasn’t telling you that according to Shinobu the part of your cycle you’re currently in is your highest window of fertility, if he wasn’t clutching onto you and saying when you’re pregnant instead of if.
And when his cock slowly hardens once more inside of you, you’ll feel the palpable change in the air as he kisses your neck again, his hips slowly starting to move as he tells you that he has to make sure it took, I have to make sure you’re carrying my child… Open your legs for me, my flame, let me give you more of me.
And when he comes with a gasp of your name a few minutes later, even more cum flooding you and sending some dripping down over his cock and onto his pelvis, Kyojuro can only lick his lips, the sight of you with a rounded belly and swollen breasts making him near feral.
OTHER NOTABLE KINKS INCLUDE:
Marking
While Kyojuro isn’t the most possessive, there’s something about the idea of physically marking you as his that gets his blood rushing, heat blooming on his cheeks, a wide grin splitting across his face.
Just the thought get him eagerly pulling you closer, nudging his nose against your neck, sighing heavily and letting you feel the way his pants slowly grow tighter, his breathing growing heavier as he groans your name.
There’s just something about the idea of claiming you as his own that makes some primal, animalistic part of him light up, so be prepared to be absolutely covered in marks as your sexual relationship progresses.
Hickeys will cover nearly all of your skin, leaving no area untouched by his lips and teeth. He’ll leave love marks (as he calls them) in the shape of a heart situated on the plane of your chest, nestled right up your breasts. As he’s fucking you he’ll kiss over the area again, his hips never slowing their pace as he starts whispering your name under his breath, nearly chanting it with every clap his balls against the curve of your ass.
A ‘K’ and an ‘R’ are placed on your inner thighs, so that when he sits beside you he can reach over and grip the area, sending you a blinding grin and telling you that even under all the layers of clothing he can feel your love. Once the marks fade he’ll spend hours between your legs again, remaking the hickies so there’s a letter per leg, so that every time he spreads them, excitement bubbling in his chest, he’ll see his letters, a mark of ownership, a reminder that you’re his and his alone, that your pretty skin and plush thighs and that lovely little pussy of yours is completely and utterly his.
It’s just fucking hot to Kyojuro, so when he pins you down, your body nude and bared for his eyes, know that he’ll kiss you, lips working eagerly against your own, tongue coaxing yours in an effort to get you to engage, groans and grunts tumbling into your mouth as his hands wander down to grope at your breasts, squeezing your side, toying with the pubic hair settled on your navel.
He’ll kiss you, then let his lips travel down, dipping to your neck to suck harshly against the skin, then down to your collarbone to lick and suckle, then to your nipples to bruise the area beside your areolas, then down your stomach and to your thighs, mumbling praises and sweet words of affirmation as he goes.
You’ll wince and avoid looking at yourself in mirrors after he’s through with you, but just know that Kyojuro does it all out of love.
He doesn’t enjoy hurting you, but the pleasure and pride that swells in his chest when he sees you with his markings outweighs his small worries at your bruising.
Just let it happen, really, because he’ll be getting his way, one way or the other, and while eventually the dull throb and sting as he works section after section will grow slightly painful, at least his fingers are talented – after all, you can handle the hickies when he’s making you gasp his name, cream on his fingers and beg for more, more, more, right?
Choking
While Kyojuro is generally the more dominant partner in bed (regardless of your personal tastes – he likes to feel like your provider, so even if you want to peg him until he’s a sobbing, begging mess, little mewls of your name and p-please, need to come so bad slipping past his lips, you’ll likely be the one trapped below him), there’s a certain allure to letting you take charge for a night every few weeks, letting you take the reigns for a few minutes.
There’s something oddly sexy about watching the way the power slowly goes to your head, how your eyes grow darker, your actions more passionate as you bounce up and down on top of him, your hands planted against his chest, pinching at his nipples, shoving your tongue down his throat all while he groans and enjoys the view.
He just likes to see the way you use him, his body simply a toy for you to get off on. It’s the ultimate form of caring for you – and seeing the way you’re so unabashedly pleasuring yourself gets his blood pumping so hard he can hear it in his ears, the sight of you so raw and natural and not at all the shy little thing you were when he first spread your legs all those months ago making him lick his lips in anticipation.
And yet, there’s a certain habit you’ve developed in these moments that Kyojuro absolutely cannot get enough of – that is, when your soft fingers wrap around his throat, your skin against his, pressing just hard enough to disrupt the blood flow to his brain, the feeling dizzying and disorienting and wonderful.
His eyes literally roll to the back of his head when you do this, your hips snapping and scooping above him as you tell him to hold it in, be a good boy, don’t come yet.
He’s groaning and wildly bucking his hips, face turning slightly red as you lean down to kiss him, your lips harsh and demanding, the kiss rough and forceful.
It’s heaven, Kyojuro thinks, as you clench around him, your fingers following suit, his cock twitching inside of you, his hands coming up to grope and knead at your ass as he bounces you harder and harder, the desire to come inside you suddenly washing over him.
It’s something he finds himself craving as time goes on, and so while he’ll more often prefer to be the one on top, in charge, calling the shots, be prepared for the nights where he wants to let you do all the work.
But really, once you’re straddling him, sinking down onto his drooling, leaking tip and grinding, your hand wrapped around his throat, he’ll often do most of the ‘work’ – desperate, sad little humps up into you with his heels planted against the futon mat that’ll leave you gasping and going limp, his cock reaching parts of you unexplored by your own fingers.
And when you lean down over him, your pretty face just inches away from his own flushed you’re your fingers wrapped around his neck, Kyojuro will eagerly obey when you tell him to open wide, his cock throbbing inside you as your spit lands against his tongue, your taste and the lewd sight of you spitting in his mouth making his orgasm hurtle towards him. As soon as he eagerly swallows his eyes are going wide, his words rushed and slurred and strained as he tells you that it’s so fucking good, oh here it comes, shit it’s coming, it – it’s-!
He just really, really likes the way it feels to have your pretty fingers around such a vulnerable area, so get used to it – because Kyojuro is a passionate man, and as his lover, you must be just as passionate, too. 
BIGGEST FANTASY:
As a general rule, Kyojuro is vocal about every sexual desire he has with you. He doesn’t believe in keeping secrets, especially in the context of sex where you could both be benefitting.
He wants to share every explicit, lewd fantasy he has of you simply because he thinks you might enjoy it – you might have even been dreaming of doing the same thing, you were just too shy to tell him.
(He knows how you are – how you’re so very shy, always seeming to skirt away from him when he nears you, your wide-eyed looks you send him when he’s talking to you, how your hands are clammy and you’re shaking ever so slightly when he pulls you in for a kiss with far too much tongue.)
And so, Kyojuro is open and honest; painfully so, really. He wakes up one morning with you in his arms, your eyes already open as he leans in and kisses the shell of your ear, sighing and pressing his navel against your ass, telling you in that husky morning voice of his that he’d dreamed about tasting you until you cry, my flame, doesn’t that sound nice?
(And of course, you’ll not be leaving that bed for hours after the fantasy is spoken out into the air – Kyojuro is nothing if not determined, and his tongue seems to never tire.) After returning home from a mission, he’s announcing to you that he’d passed by a risqué local shop and saw a drawing of a man and a woman where the woman was on top and oh, why didn’t you tell him that women sometimes enjoyed being the more dominant partner?
You’ll be left to flounder, unsure of how to respond, but it’s too late because Kyojuro is already laying down on his back, his pants pulled down to his knees and his expression eager, the smile across his lips blinding as he tells you to come here, my love, the woman in the drawing looked to be enjoying herself, and I want to see that on you as well!
However, because he has no sexual experience before you, he doesn’t harbor any particularly intense fantasies for you. He’s excited and aroused by the simple, straight-forward sex that he knows produces a child – missionary, mostly, or positions that involve spreading your legs and maintaining eye contact while he slides in, a hand cupping your cheek while he groans and tells you in a strained voice that you’re so beautiful, you feel so – ngh, so good!
And so, after a one-off chat with Tengen about wifely matters (he’s announced to the other Hashira that he has a wife, though none of them have met you or know that you aren’t actually his partner, just the woman he considers to be his wife), Kyojuro asks with complete sincerity if his friend has any advice in the bedroom.
Tengen had just laughed and clapped Kyojuro’s back, telling him that sex should be flashy, so don’t do the same things over and over! Mix things up – women love variety, so try some new positions, or a different method of pleasuring her!
When asked what other positions to try, Tengen had grinned, his eyes widening a bit as he said bend her over, she’ll feel you deeper and the view will drive you crazy.
And so, that night after coming home to you, he’d gulped, his eyes narrowing in on your ass, his voice a bit gruff as he told you to come with me, my love, I want to try something new.
“Are you comfortable?” Kyojuro asks, though he sounds distracted.
Swallowing, you nod, embarrassment clear on your face. This position was beyond humiliating – Kyojuro hadn’t explained much when he approached you earlier in the evening, simply looking at you with those unblinking eyes and telling you to get undressed because he had something new he wanted to try out.
And now, here you are, on your hands and knees on your shared bed, clothing neatly folded in a corner of the room. It’s cold, and the air is making goosebumps prickle along your skin and your nipples stiff.
If Kyojuro notices you shiver, he doesn’t say anything – instead, you hear him gulp, the sound suddenly much closer.
“You’re very beautiful…” He whispers, so quiet and unlike him that it makes you glance back over your shoulder. The sight you’re met with makes your embarrassment deepen, a mixture of shame and bashfulness seeping into your every bone.
He’s standing behind you, those wide eyes of his fixated on your exposed cunt, with his cock in hand. Thick fingers wrap around his base, visibly squeezing, his balls periodically twitching even without being touched. He looks entranced – awed, almost, presumably by the sight of your ass presented on display like this.
“Kyojuro…” You start, anxious to just get started so he’ll stop staring at you like you’re something holy and sacred. Wiggling your hips, you hope he’ll get the message.
Instead, you hear a muffled groan and suddenly feel air brushing against your sensitive folds, the sensation making your arms feel a bit weak. You feel a sudden slimy warmth, and wet noises ring in your ears as Kyojuro presses his tongue against you, dipping in briefly to taste and rub at anything he can reach. Heavy breaths are muffled against your cunt, but the insistent press of his chin against your clit makes it difficult to focus.
“Kyo – oh, Kyo please need you to fuck me, don’t tease me.” Your whines make him pause for a moment, before he slowly pulls back, pressing a single long kiss against your folds that has you biting your lip.
“Very well, you’ll have to tell me how it feels, love. Tell me everything you’re feeling.” He asks, gripping his base again and rubbing the tip through your folds, collecting your slick at the tip. His breathing is still loud, the way he’s sucking in air through clenched teeth making it obvious just how strongly the sight of you bent over and exposed like this is affecting him.
You look gorgeous – he’s intimately familiar with what’s between your legs, of course, but this view feels so lewd. He can see your pretty hole clenching every few moments, tufts of hair decorating the pretty sight, and he can even see your other hole, the one you always tell him not to touch with a squeak and a slap of his hand.
Soon he’s swallowing hard and pressing himself inside, the breath sucked out of his lungs because somehow you feel tighter like this, your cunt seeming to suck him in so tightly that it almost hurts, the sensation making his knees buckle slightly.
And you’re certainly not helping, either – as you’d promised him you’re gasping, telling him in an airy voice, “It’s so big – you’re so big, Kyo, fuck you’ve never felt so big, I can’t – you have to wait a second, please, ‘s too much-!”
And he does, with bared teeth and hands that find purchase at your ass, just as Tengen had told him to do. He’s groping at the soft flesh, grabbing handfuls and pulling them apart to get a full view. A whine slips out of him at the lewd sight of his cock buried to the hilt inside of you, the angle letting him see just how you stretch to accommodate him, even seeing the edges of his balls pressed against your thighs. It’s just too much, and as soon as your shaky ‘okay’ registers, Kyojuro’s immediately thrusting.
And the sight of him moving is even more erotic – pulling out of you and seeing the ring of white coating his base makes him lean more of his weight against you, trying to get more leverage as he thrusts back in so that he can fuck you harder, wanting to get impossibly deeper to feel more and more of you. He’s entranced, watching with wide eyes the way he appears and disappears inside of you again and again, almost lost in a trance.
Your noises have him grunting, the desperate whines and rhythmic gasps every time he sinks back into you making his orgasm come creeping up much too quickly. He’s just too overwhelmed, your pretty moans and cries of his name making his head spin.
Soon he’s bringing a leg up and pressing his foot flat against the ground, gaining better leverage and an angle that makes you scream, your cunt squeezing down on him so tightly that he struggles to pull back to just his tip. He’s seen animals do this in the wild – he’s fucking you like an animal would, mounting you and grasping at your waist to pull you back against him harder, anything and everything to get him deeper inside, to reach a part of you that he’s sure no man or even you have touched.
You’re just too damn pretty, and as he gasps your name and clutches onto you tightly enough to leave bruises while ropes of runny cum fill you, Kyojuro decides that he needs to try out all the other positions Tengen had told him about – perhaps he’ll try something called 69 with you tomorrow.
Maybe that’ll get you to scream his name like this ‘Doggy’ has.
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sanji-piss-hell · 5 months
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ZOSAN FIC REC
Here is some of my fave zosan fics. Some of these I read years ago and so I don't fully remember what theyre about but they we're good enough that I still have strong emotional attachments when I see the name. Most of them are things I've read recently. Literally all I do all day is homework and have an app tts fanfics to me like an audio book so there's quite a few of recs here. I am not the best at summeries but just trust me bro these are GOOD SHIT. I only provide the best. What I consider a good fic: - Takes place in the one piece world (I don't like modern aus) - Characters stay in character or if they do have changes from their canon portrayal there is a justifiable reason from within the story. - Solid story telling and arcs (even the shorter fics) - The Zosan dynamic is kept mostly how it is in canon they fight and bicker. (I know some like when they're soft with eachother like a loving married couple. You won't find much of that here) - Some of these have pervy sanji, que nose bleeds and ogling. With that out of the way here's the list!! Now to my fave zosan fic of all time and ironically enough the only fic taking place in a modern setting: Life is fine series. TW: Drug abuse, heavy angst, depression I have reread this twice and forced a friend to read it too. It is so amazing not just for the zosan but for the genuinely good story telling. You follow zoro reeling from his sudden loss of relationship with Sanji and falling down a...Well uh, path. It's fucked it's dark it's depressing and its fucking riviting. Alot of the time reading this you're just like WHY DID SANJI LEAVE HIM WHAT IS GOING ON??? Honestly I need to reread this again. Onto softer fics to heal your heart after that one: Honor in limits, his strengths in weakness By Hawksbrood
“Fucking hell cook, what happened to you?” Zoro demanded, voice low so as not to disturb the others sleeping nearby.
Sanji rolled his eyes. “What do you think? I told you we got in a fight earlier.”
“Not that, your fucking feet!”
The cook snarled at that, crushing his cigarette in his teeth. “What the fuck do you mean, my feet? They’re just feet!”
Zoro’s eyes widened, looking at the bruised flesh before him. This wasn’t that.
This was just so good and cute. I appreciate watching zoro appreciate sanji. They take care of eachother but in a way where theyre both still them yeah know? I appreciate how sanji is written letting himself be vulnerable but understanding that he's always gonna be crass cause it's just a part of who he is.
come on, come on (turn a little faster) by donutsandcoffee
The one where everyone thinks they’re dating, Sanji is oblivious, and Zoro takes everything in stride.
Sometimes a love story can go in reverse.
I reread this one recently and it's just soft and sweet. I like watching sanji flounder around. The gay panic is great.
a complete guide to falling in love by ThousandSunny Sanji was trained in the Bridal Arts; this does not go unnoticed by the rest of his crew. I read this like 3 years ago and I dont remember much but I do remember loving it!
Part Timer By 8ball Sanji really, really doesn't want to give Zoro a job at his restaurant. Zoro doesn't really even want to work there in the first place, but, well, there’s this thing with Sanji, and this thing with feelings and the whole thing is pretty damn stupid all together. Zeff just wants grandkids. He’s too old for this bullshit anyways. I am sure everyone knows 8ball very well they're like zosan famous but still just in case this one is really fucking good. Also read this 3 years ago so I don't remember much but I consider this a zosan classic. Onto the rated R Grand Buffet by asyndese Drunk fic!! If there was one thing Zoro knew, it was that you could always trust Sanji's inclinations to do a beautiful 180 as soon as he was drunk. Luckily, Zoro was more than equipped to handle it. I spent. 30 minutes. Trying to find this fic again because that's how much I loved it. It altered my brain chemistry. Sanji getting a nose job during sex is just. aaaaaaaaa. Read it. Cannot suggest enough. Horrors not yet known by Trixree
Sanji doesn’t know how he didn’t notice it before, is the thing. Of all the times he has seen Zoro shirtless (in battle, mostly) he just… never noticed. The problem is, once he has noticed, Sanji can’t seem to stop noticing. And neither can anyone else.
In which Zoro has a nipple piercing and Sanji has a Problem.
I recently reread this and the first time I read it I didn't really get the whole gender sanji shit. Now though???? Yeah another fic that rewired my brain chemistry. This fic opened doors for me it exposed me to a new world. Also sanji gay panic is in here and I live for that. It can be pretty raunchy (love that too) Three rounds with a tiger by KobochaKitsune Another drunk Fic!! also in modern times damn maybe I lied sdklfj
Liquid courage, drunken decisions, terrible euphemisms, and texts from last night, or: how to think entirely with the booze (and your dick) for once.
Or: By the time Sanji got to the party, everyone was already drunk.
I read this 3 years ago (theres a trend going on can you tell??) It also rewired my brain chemistry (from this point on just assume all of these nsfw fics rewired my brain chemistry each of these opened doors for me. This one opened the doors to bottom zoro.) Fucking 20k words of just pwp. I dont even know how the author did that bro like damn. Nature of things by stark_black Tw: Sex work and prostitutes When the Sunny docks, Sanji and Zoro sometimes seek out relief in some not so savory places. After crossing paths in town on more than one occasion, the two find they have a lot more in common than they would like to admit. I hunted this down for like fucking hours a couple of weeks ago because it was that good. Stark_Black has a fucking library worth of zosan fics this one is a classic to me. But if you want more content check out his other fics I think they have like over 100 zosan its kinda insane. Coregasm by Yakarmi
Sanji discovers that sometimes, Zoro has orgasms while he lifts.
-----
“You…” Sanji trailed off, gaze turning down as he licked his lips. Pink tongue darting out nervously. “You orgasm when you exercise?”
Zoro clenched his jaw. Shrugged. Trying to act nonchalant.
“Sometimes.”
Sanji’s eye went wide, and like his mouth had suddenly been liberated from his brain, blurted out, “that’s so fucking hot,” before clamping his hands over his mouth. His cigarette fell from his mouth, bouncing soundlessly on the ground.
Bro bestie, the way this put me on nose bleed Sanji. Perv sanji. I need that gif thats like mmm cause man this is good. Ending this fic rec with a BANG we have
Contingencies and Congruencies by PeaceSignDisasterBi
Somewhere between finishing the bottles of alcohol and mugs of beer, the crew comes together to create a contingency plan for something that may-or-may-not-happen during their time on the Grand Line and beyond. Usopp thinks it's more likely than bumping into zombies, Zoro wants to stay out of this, Sanji is just going with the flow, and Nami may or may not keep things legally binding and above board with consistent consensual acquiescence. Robin finds it all amusing.
The damn chart stays in the locked drawer in her desk, split into three neat categories: Devil Fruit Powers, Science, and Magic. Each represents whatever they're hit with but also categorizes the amount of self-control the person has during.
AKA: 5 times Zoro and Sanji had to help each other as Consensual Helpers of Dubious Consent + 1 Time There Was Nothing Dubious At All
Ok this is 152k long its pretty insane. It regoes over the arcs so throughly so carefully that I literally had to question my memory because I havent experienced alot of these arcs in a while (it's one of the reasons im rewatching one piece). I will say despite how amazing and well written this is I had a hard time comprehending sometimes. now I was sick at the time of reading this so that might be why but sometimes the way things were phrased felt like yoda talking. I think it's just me though. I'm not used to big words :( And thats a wrap!! These arent even all the ones I wanted to include I have at least 20 more off the top of my head but I'll save that for another day. I hope you find joy in these fics Like i did I'll def do another one of these as cause I didnt even touch my sanji centric fics or germa 66 or just in general the best sanji fanfic writers. (Mentioned some of them like 8ball, thousand sunny and donuts and coffee.) Best of luck to yall and let me know what you think!
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thewordypeach · 11 months
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Cream
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Cream (Milk)
pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader word count: 2.9k warnings: 18+, NSFW!!!!, smut! smut! smut!, no use of y/n, unprotected p in v = creampie, oral, titty sucking and titty fucking, (lactation kink), implied breeding kink, squirting, etc. summary: Joel needs his thirst quenched, and only one thing in this world can do it - author's note: ummm … so this sequel had me questioning my life choices. like i do not know what possessed me to take it this far lol so you better blow it up like you did with ‘Milk’ 🤭 anyways, i hope you like it <3 xoxo the wordy peach
It begins with: “You’ll never guess what they’re playing at movie night,” 
You look at Joel, a single eyebrow raised. Joel wolfishly grins, his brown eyes sparkling, “Austin Powers and the Spy Who Shagged Me,” 
He watches as your eyebrows knit together in confusion. Joel can’t believe you don’t remember the conversation from last week, the one that had you confessing to him that you felt like one of those fembots from the aforementioned movie. He steps closer, head dipping to your ear, whispering: “Machine gun titties,” 
That’s all it takes for you to remember. And it has your cheeks flushing pink. Sheepishly, you smile at him. But, of course, the cock block herself pipes up: “The spy who what?”
Ellie, you spunky little shithead. You love her to death. You never want her to grow up. But lately, she’s been ruining your alone time with Joel. You know she just wants to be a part of the family, and she is. It never even crossed your mind to think otherwise. She’s the daughter you never had. Sometimes you wish she’d just go and make friends that aren’t you or Joel. 
You look at Joel, waiting for him to answer. But Joel is expectantly gazing at you. A playful smirk ghosts across his lips. He thinks it’s your duty to explain the birds, the bees, and everything between them to Ellie. Of course, she knows most of it. But she questions absolutely everything. Just yesterday, you had the unfortunate experience of explaining anal to her; Joel walked out of the house when she asked and didn’t return until later. 
You poke a finger into Joel’s chest, hissing at him, “It’s your turn,” 
His face goes slack before he gives you a sullen look. He pouts those luscious lips of his, “But darlin'….” 
“Don't darlin' me, mister. You owe me for yesterday,” 
Joel continues to pout but eventually relents. He turns to Ellie with a face void of any emotion: “It’s a classic movie from the 2000s,” 
“Yeah, but what does shagged mean?” Ellie asks. Her eyes look between you and Joel, waiting for an answer. Joel grows uncomfortable. He’s never been one to talk about this kind of stuff. 
“Yeah, Joel. What does shagged mean?” You ask. 
“It- it… it means…” Joel stutters and stumbles over the words. His face is turning pink. He looks flustered as he searches for the right thing to say. You’re enjoying him floundering around. In one great, big breath, Joel spills out: “It’s a British slang term for intercourse,” 
Ellie blinks at him several times as she repeats what Joel just said to her. She starts chuckling, “Shagged means sex?!” Ellie turns into a mess of laughter. She’s clutching her sides. It’s not that funny. But you like watching her have fun. It brings back the innocence and reminds you of childhood. You were young when the movie came out, and the world was ravaged by fungus a few years after. So you cherish this moment of hilarity. You rub your tummy and smile at how much fun you will have raising this new baby with Joel and Ellie -
You don’t make it to movie night because you’re busy with the nursery, and the thought of walking all the way to town hall makes you cringe. You don’t like going anywhere unless it is essential. You make Joel and Ellie do everything for you. There are still some things you do yourself.
You insist Joel and Ellie go. Ellie doesn’t fight it (she’s so excited to watch a piece of history), but Joel grumbles about it. He wants to stay and help. By helping, Joel means he wants to milk you. He can’t stop helping you, and it’s the only thing on his mind - Joel swears he even dreams about it now. However, there hasn’t been a single moment for him to help you. Tommy has Joel doing everything and anything, and between his brother and Ellie, Joel hasn’t had time for his new hobby. 
So, after he drops Ellie off at the movie (making sure that she is settled and making sure that Tommy will bring her home after), Joel leaves and makes his way back to you. He wants to spend every free minute with you, but more importantly, this is the perfect opportunity to do what he’s been dreaming of without any interruptions. Joel needs his thirst quenched, and only one thing in this world can do it -
You hear him before you see him, and then you feel him. His arms wrap around your body, and he presses his chest into your back. You sink into the warmth, eyes closing and throat humming. His hands briefly touch your stomach before they find their rightful place. Joel cups your tits, placing each of them into his hands, and marvels at the heaviness. So full of his special cream. 
“They’ve gotten bigger, haven’t they?” Joel murmurs. His cock is already hard and straining inside his pants. Hell, on the walk home, the prospect of milking you had him almost cumming right then and there. 
“They’re definitely heavier,” Joel adds as he squeezes them. He notices you aren’t wearing a bra, and with one simple motion, he has his shirt on the floor (the only one that fits you). You’re facing him now, chest and belly exposed. The sight of you has him losing it. Joel feels happy and excited, and everything in between that. Joel can’t believe that you're his, and he’s yours. Nor can he believe his eyes because your tits are definitely bigger, and your nipples are already dewy with that milky nectar he loves so much. 
Joel groans, latches his mouth onto your right side, and starts suckling like a starved man. Your nipple is already stiff and responsive, and you feel the sensation of milk rushing through to meet your partner’s greedy tongue. His hand expertly kneads the pillowy flesh, expressing even more of the sweet cream that has him hard as a rock. Joel starts to breathe deeper and sucks harder, causing you to moan. 
Your fingers comb through Joel’s hair, and you hold him there because the pleasure of having Joel drain your tits is undeniable; in fact, the more Joel sucks and licks your nipple, the more your arousal grows. You have to remind him, “Joel…. We have less than ninety minutes -”
He grunts in response and moves his mouth to the other side he’s been neglecting. The feeling is indescribable, and you relish it. The relief Joel is giving you is insurmountable. But it also has you growing impatient with him. Your core is aching for his cock, and your hands travel over his body. You feel his muscles, thick and robust, beneath the plaid shirt. You need him now. 
“Joel,” Your hand drops to the bulge in his jeans, and you gently rub it with purpose. The friction makes Joel groan, finally lifting his head from your tits. His eyes are filled with a dazy lustiness that makes you fumble with your words. Still, it doesn’t matter because Joel is suddenly pressing his lips against yours and kissing you with an ardour that makes you forget everything you are about to say. 
You taste the substance that has Joel acting ravenous. It reminds you of cereal milk because it’s so sweet. You part from his lips, whispering, “Can I taste you now?” 
He doesn’t have time to answer because you’re already lowering yourself to your knees, planting them on the ground in front of Joel. With one hand, you pop open the buttons of his jeans and pull down the zipper. Roughly, you tug at the opening and watch as his thick, luscious cock springs free from its confines. At the sight of it, you lick your lips. Your fingers wrap around his length and slide over his stiffness. The movement makes Joel shiver, and when your lips finally touch his cock, a groan escapes from his throat.
Joel has been so concerned about making you feel good that he forgot to consider himself. Suddenly, you thrust him inside your mouth while twisting your hand down his cock. He quickly fills your mouth, and his hand grasps your hair in hopes of controlling you. However, he’s fine with letting you have your way right now. It’s been a while since you had the opportunity to please him; Joel loves how the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat, and you’re so adept at sucking him off that his length doesn’t make you gag anymore  - 
Expertly, you glide your mouth from the hilt to the tip of Joel’s cock, coating it in your saliva. Joel’s eyes nearly roll into his head because it feels so fucking good. It’s the only thing he can tell you because he’s almost lost his mind from the bliss of your mouth sheathing his cock. You don’t stop until Joel gasps for air and asks you to stop. 
“Babe, babe, babe,” His voice is husky, and he roughly pulls on your hair. You gasp and gaze up at him with a thick string of spit connecting your lips to his cock. Joel quivers at the sight and has to remember what he will say. You wait patiently. Obediently. 
Breathlessly, he asks, “Do you want me to fuck you here? Or…”
Without skipping a beat, you reply, “Here,” 
Joel doesn’t need to be told twice and is quick to shed his jeans before he starts to help you. You lean forward onto the palm of your hands and watch as Joel goes behind and begins to slide off the sweatpants you’re always wearing. Not that Joel minds. He knows it’s the only thing that fits you because you remind him every damn day. Once the sweatpants are off, he tosses them to the side and stares lovingly at your ass. It’s so round and perky and panty-less. He’s genuinely surprised, and it makes him smile. 
He caresses your fleshy cheeks, asking, “Is this for me?”
Joel can’t see your face but can tell you are blushing. Sheepishly, you admit, “As soon as you left, I took them off - for easy access,”
“Oh, darlin’,” He swoons, “You’re so sweet to think of me,”
Joel pries your sweet cheeks apart and buries his face, his tongue immediately swirling around your puckered asshole. Mewls spill forth from your mouth, and you wiggle your hips, trying to splay them apart because your body needs more. Joel’s tongue slithers down, lapping the juice practically pouring out of your needy, swollen cunt. He licks and sucks with wild abandon, groaning at your deliciousness. He doesn’t stop until you are begging him, “Joel, fuck me. Fuck me with your big cock, please. Oh god, fuck me, already!”
He removes his mouth from your exterior and replaces it with his cock. He rubs and rubs his bulbous crown between your molten wetness, gliding it back and forth until it’s coated with your slickness. When he thinks it’s enough, he pushes into your tight cunt. At first, your channel is resistant. But slowly, your velvety walls happily start devouring Joel’s cock until his entire length basks in the warmth. 
You are gasping at the sensation of being stretched out. It’s almost too much in this position, and a small rock of Joel’s hips gives way to your first orgasm. Your vision swirls as a wave of ecstasy comes crashing through. Your fingers grip the carpet as your cunt swells and clenches his cock. Your back arches as you cry out, “Fuck, Joel,”
Immediately, he stops, thinking he has hurt you or the baby. Panic-stricken, he asks, “What’s wrong?”
“N-n-nothing,” You stutter out, attempting to catch your breath. Your lungs greedily suck in the air, saturated with the smell of sex. You tell him, “You made me cum,”
“Already?” He murmurs and devilishly thinks about the five times he made you cum last week. Joel rocks his hips again, and you whimper at the movement. At a glacial pace, Joel pulls out before sliding back in and burying his cock to the hilt. You’re gripping the carpet and moaning like crazy. He’s sure the neighbours can hear you, which drives Joel forward. He wants them to know how good he is at fucking you. 
Joel grabs your hips, nails sinking into the fleshy bits, and plows in and out of your pussy. He’s pulling all the way out and pushing all the way in, ensuring you feel every inch of his girthy length. Your body is rocking beneath his, tits swaying like udders. You reach between your legs to touch your clit. It’s pulsating and yearning to be touched. You gingerly circle it, knowing a light touch is enough to send you over the edge. And you’re right because, within seconds, your second orgasm is rolling through.
You wail, “Joel, Joel, Joel,” but Joel doesn’t stop this time. He continues to youthfully spear your pussy and watches as your creamy juices coat his cock. Vigorously, you rub your clit because a third orgasm is imminent. Your back arches and your hips are high in the air, and Joel stops, pulling out completely, to watch as your pussy trembles with another orgasm. Your thighs are dripping with your juices, and his name still spills out of your mouth. Repeatedly. 
His hand squeezes your hip, “Mmm, darlin’. That’s your third one - should we slow down? Don’t want to hurt -”
“Need more,” You interrupt him, “Need to cum more, Joel,”
Joel shakes his head, “Darlin’,'' He knows you aren’t thinking straight, driven to recklessness because of the pure ecstasy that has raptured your body. You turn over, laying on your back. You splay your legs apart, and your pussy glistens in the light. It’s so swollen, so puffy. Your hand is back, and your fingers are working your clit. But from this angle, it’s a little more challenging because of your protruding belly. And it’s making you frustrated. Especially because Joel is just watching, not helping. 
“Joel,” You growl, “Fuck me,”
A single eyebrow of his shoots up, and you begrudgingly mutter, “Please,”
Much to your surprise, Joel moves. However, instead, he hovers above your chest and settles his cock in the valley of your tits. His hands squeeze them, and the milk for his unborn child sprays out, sprinkling across your chest and hitting his cock. At first, Joel goes slow, his cock passing between your tits. It’s a different kind of friction and holy hell… it feels good. His cock, slippery with your juices and milk, has him gliding through your breasts with ease. He grips harder and fucks your tits faster, rocking his hips back and forth. 
As he slips in and out, he milks your bountiful breasts in the process. He does it until you are soaked. He’s breathing hard, and his balls are tightening. He’s close, so fucking close. But he doesn’t want to finish like this because he knows you want more orgasms, and who is he to deny his pregnant partner? You have been carrying his baby for months, and it hasn’t been easy. And Joel knows that once the baby is born, you won’t be able to have sex for weeks. Not until you’re healed. So, why not let you live a little? 
He pulls his cock out of your cleavage and moves his face to yours, kissing you passionately. His tongue swirls and mingles with yours before he shifts down. Joel latches his mouth around your nipple and practically inhales a gulp of cream into his mouth. He doesn’t swallow and comes back up, kissing you again. Messily, Joel washes your mouth with your milk. It’s sweet and warm, and it’s fucking kinky as hell. It has you moaning into Joel’s mouth. He moans back, letting you know he loves every moment of it too.
As he continues to kiss you, Joel reaches down and takes his cock, sliding it over your puffy and sensitive lips before pressing it into your velvet channel. Your body welcomes him, and your mouth drops, gasping as you effortlessly fit his entire length . Once more, Joel explores your warm depths with a vigorous youthfulness. His flesh is clapping yours over and over until you are yelling his name over and over. Your hands are gripping his forearms, nails digging into his skin. 
“Mmm, Joel, mmm, Joel, gonna cum, Joel, mmm - fuck, fuck, fuck!” Your eyes roll back, and an unwavering fourth climax raptures your body. A euphoric release rolls across your body, and you undulate beneath Joel. He watches as your belly quivers, and he feels your cunt trying to expel him, and when he does finally pull out, a massive bolt of liquid escapes - he realizes you’re squirting. Something he’s only heard rumours about. He’s astonished by the amount of liquid that is coming out and by how long your orgasm is lasting.
Meanwhile, you are gasping for air, lungs greedily gulping it down. You have no idea what happened; all you know is it’s a big wet mess down there. You’re gazing at Joel, cock-drunk. Orgasm-drunk. Your brain is buzzing with satisfaction. Your fixation on cumming has been satiated. However, your partner is still rock hard. He still needs to cum, and he’s more eager than ever before. He shoves his cock back in, and the molten wetness has his cock quivering as his climax punches through, pushing him over the edge.
He doesn't warn you. He doesn’t have to - the damage is done. You’re reaping what he sowed. Joel shoots his seed as far into you as possible with a single thrust. His hands touch your belly, caressing the soft skin, and he pushes his cock even deeper, where he empties the rest of his balls. When he pulls out, his cum mixed with yours oozes out from your crease and pools onto the carpet beneath you. 
You dare to smile up at him, murmuring: “Thank you, Daddy,”
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justdontaskme · 8 months
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A Promise to Keep (Alexia Putellas x Reader)
A/N: Hello! I got a request and a sudden spurt of inspiration. If seems a little all over the place, I apologize, I wrote it quickly in one sitting and feel like it might be the best it'll get. Please let me know what you think or anything else you want to see.
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After your morning training session, all you really wanted to do was to head home and cuddle with Nala until your second session later today. So, you bid your teammates farewell with a promise to see them later. 
Preseason had been going well, but it was quite obvious the number of gaps missing as many of your players were still out representing at the World Cup. Speaking of missing players, your phone started ringing just as you entered your apartment. You placed your bag down, scooping up Nala as you made your way over to the couch. 
“Hola, mi amor,” Alexia greeted you over the phone, a tired but happy smile on her face at finally seeing your face today. 
“Hi, Ale. Say hi to mama, Nala,” you said, grabbing one of Nala’s little paws and waving it at the camera. You listened as Ale talked to Nala all about what she had done today and how much she missed her. 
Eventually, Nala got bored, and you placed her back on the floor to roam the apartment. You turned sideways, using the arm of the couch as a backrest, pulling your feet up to stretch across the seats. 
“Are you okay, Ale?”
“I wish you were here,” she mumbled, and even though you knew it wasn’t meant with any malice, you couldn’t help but detect that tone of bitterness in her voice, just hitching at the very end. 
You sighed deeply, not really wanting to replay a fight you two have been enduring for the last few weeks now. 
“I miss you,” you said instead, trying not to feed into another inevitable fight. “Enjoy this while you can, you’ll be home soon.”
“I’m here, and you’re there. How am I supposed to enjoy this when you are sitting back home when you could have been here.”
“Ale,” you started, your voice soft and gentle, trying to soothe her before she worked herself into a frenzy. “This is your moment, don’t worry about me.”
“But this is supposed to be our moment,” she said, her voice raising slightly. “You and me. It was supposed to be us. Now, I’m here by myself.”
“You’re not alone, Ale,” you reminded her, asking her to lean on her teammates for strength in this monumental moment. 
“It’s not the same, and you know it. We made a promise.”
You turned the phone away from yourself for a second, allowing your face to fall forward into your knees. She was right. The two of you had made a promise to each other that you would do whatever it takes to be on the grandest stage of the World Cup together. 
“I know, but you and I both know why I’m here. I’ve made peace with this situation. I hate it, but I wouldn’t have done anything different.”
“Not even to be with me?” Alexia knew she was selfish and wrong for asking that, but she had been struggling to really find her footing this tournament, and to have you thousands of miles away wasn’t helping. Her feelings were taking over. She felt like she was floundering, one second away from drowning every step of the way. 
“Ale, as much as I’d love to be there with you, I can’t put myself in that situation again. Not unless things change,” you said.
While you loved and enjoyed your time on the national team, there was so much going on behind the scenes that many people didn’t know about. Unfortunately, it had taken a huge mental toll on you, a toll you were still paying to this day and maybe for the rest of your life. 
“You always said you and I could get through everything together. Why is this any different? Why can’t we get through this together?” Her voice was strained and you knew she was not going to back down on this tonight. 
“Alexia, let’s not go down this road tonight. You have a big game tomorrow. Let’s not do this right now.”
“I’m suffocating. I feel like I can’t even take a step without everyone criticizing my form and my right to be here. And now I’m here telling you that I need you, and you just push it aside,” she yelled, causing you to almost drop your phone. 
“Hold on, Alexia. That’s not what I said.”
“But it’s what you meant.”
“Don’t go putting words in my mouth. You know I hate when people do that,” you warned her, feeling yourself slowly losing your temper as well. 
“And I hate when people go back on their word, yet you did and I let you.”
That stopped you for a moment. Everything Alexia has been saying all made sense. But you couldn’t just take a whole month off especially with preseason starting just to follow her halfway around the world. 
It didn’t stop you from feeling guilty for not being there when she needed you. Since she had gone, the time difference had really made its mark on your relationship, speaking much less often than normal. Calls were either less frequent or shorter in comparison to the ones just before the group stages started. 
You hated yourself for not noticing how much Alexia was apparently struggling throughout this month apart. Each call you remember trying to comfort and reassure her you were her biggest fan, but she didn’t just need some to believe in her, she needed your full support in fighting the demons in her heads that have been there since she went down before the Euros.
“Ale,” you tried to form a coherent sentence. One that was genuinely what she needed to hear without feeling forced. 
“No, you know you were right. I have a game tomorrow. I should get some rest.”
Before you could say anything else, she hung up on you. You tossed your phone to the other side of the couch, sitting in silence as the pent up anger from this and previous fights coupled with an insurmountable amount of guilt bubbled inside of you. 
****
From your seat next to Patri, your hands curled into fists when you saw Alexia being subbed off, knowing that she wasn’t happy with the decision, and even worse, she’ll be upset with the way she had played with the limited minutes she had. 
You started to worry and feel a twinge of guilt, wondering if your fight last night had anything to do with her performance today. You quickly shook your head, tossing the idea out of your head and reminding yourself that Alexia was a professional and she wouldn’t let something like that mess with her game. She must just have had an off day.
Things from the night before were still unresolved, but you hoped that it would all work itself out when you spoke to her later.  
It was a bittersweet win. You were in tears seeing the absolute happiness on the players’ faces, especially Alexia’s, yet when you turned to Patri and Mapi, you knew they already understood the feelings you were fighting.
Mapi came over and draped an arm over your shoulders, nodding her head without saying anything. There were only a few who would truly understand what you were feeling as you watched the Spanish national team reach heights that were before unachievable. And they managed to do it all without you and your fellow teammates. 
You waited by the phone all night, but never got anything from your girlfriend. You had tried calling once, but it had gone straight to voicemail, and you figured that it meant that she wasn’t ready to hear from you yet. 
Then, you reached out to Ona, who assured you that Alexia was okay and that she would keep an eye on her for you. You then asked her to pass on your congratulations and her love, which she easily agreed to. Thanking the younger girl, you went about making the necessary arrangements for your trip. 
****
As you stepped into the stadium, you were in awe of the atmosphere. The crowds of people here for this game, cheering along and choosing sides, even though their own nations have already gone home. It was a full stadium of people here to love and champion the game everyone loved. A wave of sadness swept through you as you imagined what could have been. 
You were supposed to be experiencing this with all your friends, the grass beneath your feet, not the concrete of the seating area. You should have been out there decked out in your Spanish uniform, your name and number proudly on your back, instead of being in the stands with your girlfriend’s name and number on. 
You let yourself wallow for a minute more before quickly reminding yourself why you were really here. While you continue to wish things were different, you didn’t regret your choices, but now you were to live with the consequences of those choices. 
Instead of dwelling, you stood on your feet, cheering along with the rest of the Spanish fans as both teams made their way out for warmups. You cheered loudly anytime Alexia touched the ball, but with all the people in the stadium, you doubted she could hear you.
Once the Spanish team finished warming up and started heading into the locker rooms, you did your best to catch Alexia’s eyes without making a big show. As far as you knew, Alexia didn’t even know you were here. 
Eventually you managed to make eye contact with Ona who sent you a bright smile before rushing over to Alexia and pointing you out in the crowd. Despite the countdown until kickoff and the protests of a certain coach, Alexia ran straight to you, meeting you at the edge of the stands.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, reaching one hand up to cup your face while the other went around your waist, pulling your bodies as close as the barrier between you two allowed. 
In the moment, it didn’t matter if there was a small wedge driven between the two of you since the start of this tournament, Alexia was beyond happy to finally have you back in her arms. She wasn’t going to waste a second of it. 
“I made a promise, we’d be here together,” you said, resting your forehead against hers, this closeness drowning out everything around you. “I came to fulfill that promise to you. Even if it’s a little different than the way we planned.”
“I’m sorry,” Alexia said, ready to jump into her rehearsed spiel of how she shouldn’t have reacted the way she did the other night. 
But before she could say anything, you quickly interrupted her with an apology of your own. “No, mi corazón, I’m sorry. You were right, we made a promise and I went back on it.”
“No, I know why you and the others did what you did, but that doesn’t mean I don’t support you. I just really wished I could have shared all of this with you by my side.”
“I know, bebé, I know. But we can’t change the past.”
“I’m so happy you’re here,” Alexia admitted, sniffling slightly. You reached up to wipe the pooling tear in her eye. 
“Me too. I promise we can talk about this more later. For now, go out there and make me proud,” you told her, not caring about the crowd as you leant forward and kissed her for the first time in over a month. “Te amo.”
The blinding smile on your girlfriend’s face and the returned ‘I love you’ was worth the month apart. Alexia snuck one more quick kiss to your lips before rushing off to the locker room before she was benched for the entire game. 
You sat back in your seat as you awaited the players' walk out. 
“My sister is such a sucker for you,” Alba said, knocking her shoulder against yours from her seat beside you. 
You burst out laughing, “Never hurts to have her wrapped around my finger,” you shrugged.
“Yet you were the one to skip practice in order to book a last minute flight to Australia just so you could apologize in person.”
“It’s called supporting your girlfriend,” you countered, eyes on the tunnel as the players were set to come out any second. 
Alba rolled her eyes goodnaturedly, joining you as you both sported your Alexia jerseys, loudly cheering for the superstar as everyone came out. You blew her a kiss and wished her the best of luck. 
This wasn’t how you two had thought a World Cup together would be like, but even with all the obstacles, you had finally made it to a final together. And really, that’s all that mattered because at the end of the day, you two would always have each other. 
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Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 38
Part 1 Part 37
Steve keeps acting like he’s perfectly fine. Like he didn’t have part of his shoulder carved off. Like he’s not suffering through an hour of glorified torture masquerading as physical therapy every day, trying to build his muscle back up. Like the doctor hadn’t told him he might still never get back to shooting hoops and swimming laps with the precision he used to. Like his ribs aren’t still broken, and he doesn’t still have trouble standing, or wake up screaming, clutching at his throat. Like he doesn’t rub the back of his head sometimes and stare into the middle distance with lost eyes. And it’s pissing Eddie off.
Especially now, as he walks beside Wayne, pushing Steve’s wheelchair down the hall toward the elevator. This in and of itself was a feat. First, Steve had argued that he didn’t need a wheelchair, then he’d argued he didn’t need help pushing it. Eddie let Steve flounder for a few minutes, trying to make his useless arm wheel him forward, angry tears springing from his eyes before he acquiesces.
The latest rub is the worst: Steve wants to go home. As if Eddie doesn’t remember the look on Steve’s face when he said he wanted to go to Eddie’s trailer. As if Eddie doesn’t remember the way Steve’s voice broke when he called the trailer home.
“The doctor said somebody needs to keep an eye on ya,” Wayne says reasonably. “Either we do it, or you can stay with Joyce. She offered to put you up.”
Steve scoffs. “My parents—”
“Aren’t home!” Eddie snaps, pushing Steve into the elevator and pushing the down button on the elevator with enough force that his finger hurts.
Steve sits up straighter in his chair, reading for a fight. Wayne doesn’t let him. “If you’re staying at that house, then so are we,” he says, implacable. “Until your parents are there to watch you.” Left unsaid, is that no one had heard from them. That Steve hadn’t asked about them at all.
Steve slumps down in a position that must be hell on his cracked ribs, sighing. “Fine,” he says, like it hurts. “I’ll stay in the trailer.”
It feels like a knife twist. Eddie wants to shake Steve and remind him he’d called it home.
It’s quick after that. Steve signs himself out at the front desk, tucking the physical therapy schedule they’d made for him into the pocket of the sweatpants Wayne had scavenged from Eddie’s drawers for Steve to wear home.
Wayne and Eddie work together to help lever Steve into the passenger seat of Eddie’s van. Wayne slides into the driver’s seat without asking, so Eddie grumbles his way into the back.
Steve’s quiet when Wayne pulls up front, quiet while they help him in, quiet when he’s settled onto the couch.
He’s looking around his surroundings just like he had the first time – like he’s amazed people live like this. That first time, he’d wanted to snarl, make sure Harrington knew that there was nothing wrong with this life he’d created with his Uncle. Now, he just thinks of Steve’s empty house, the hospital’s unanswered phone calls to his parents, and feels unbearably sad.
Wayne puts on a basketball game that Eddie doesn’t even complain about, and settles himself at Steve’s side.
Steve falls asleep halfway through the game, head falling on Eddie’s shoulder, warm puffs of air hitting the bare skin of his neck.
Wayne huffs, and Eddie looks up at him, already glaring defensively. “What?” he demands, quiet enough not to disturb Steve.
Wayne raises his hands placatingly, even as he smiles smugly over at Eddie. “I didn’t say anything.”
They all sleep in the living room that night. It’s cozy and warm, especially after Wayne drapes a blanket over them both.
It should feel weird, settling this closely to Steve, now that they’re not depending on each other to survive. Now that they’re back in the real world. But Eddie feels like he’ll fall apart if Steve’s not in sight, so maybe he’s not out of the woods after all.
It's peaceful.
It stays peaceful until the next day when it’s time for Steve’s physical therapy appointment.
“I can take myself,” he says. “I have a car.”
He’s not meeting Eddie’s eyes. Eddie takes a few deep breaths. He knows snapping won’t help anything, but he wants to smack Steve until this is easier. He just— he doesn’t get this. Can’t figure out what the problem is.
“It would take just as long to drive you to your car as it would to just drive you,” Eddie says, cleaning up their half-assed breakfast of toast a cereal off the table. He doesn’t look back at Steve, wants to play this cool and nonchalant, and he just knows one look at the obstinate tilt of Steve’s chin will send him swinging. 
“I can walk,” he says, even though he really really can’t.
Eddie slams a dish into the sink. He’s almost surprised the bowl doesn’t shatter upon impact. He scrubs it, back to where Steve is stewing in silence.
He needs to figure this out. Why Steve is being so difficult, about staying here, about Eddie feeding him and driving him. He does the hardest thing he can think of, and asks, “why don’t you want me to take you to your appointment?”
He doesn’t turn around, just keeps scrubbing the dishes like this is a casual conversation over breakfast. Because it should be.
The silence drags him down, lasts long enough that Eddie doesn’t think Steve will answer at all.
“You shouldn’t have to,” Steve says.
Eddie thinks back – big house no parents – and wonders how long it’s been since someone did something for Steve without strings. He turns around, settles back into his seat and stares at Steve until he raises his eyes from the table.
Choosing his words carefully, he says, “I want to go with you,” Eddie says. “You saved my life—"
“But—” Eddie holds up a hand, and Steve stops, brows furrowed.
“You saved my life,” he repeats, meeting Steve’s eyes. “I’m gonna help you whether you like it or not.”
It’s not quite the whole truth, but Eddie’s not sure how to touch the way it feels like worms are writhing in his stomach when Steve’s out of his sight. How his shoulders only really relax when he knows exactly where Steve and Will both are.
Eddie bites his tongue on the too much of it all.
“Fine,” Steve says, still sullen, but he lets Eddie lead him to the van and drive him to his appointment.
It looks painful. Eddie holds his crossed ankles, to stop himself from leaping up and wrenching Steve away from the doctor’s ministrations.
By the end, Steve looks like he just got done with a basketball game, sweat dripping down his forehead, pits stained. If Eddie squints, he can almost see the uncomplicated jock of days past as they limp out of the hospital.
“You wanna go see Baby Byers?” Eddie asks.
“Please,” Steve says, slumping into the passenger seat like the princess he is.
Eddie drives, turning his music up loud enough to rattle their teeth just to see Steve smile.
Part 39
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fandomxpreferences · 1 year
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Fighting About A Funnel Cake
Pairing: Dad!Rafe Cameron x Female!Reader
TW:none
Summary: You're mad at Rafe, and much to your displeasure, he figures out the real reason.
Word Count:1k
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Few things have ever scared Rafe Cameron. He's had guns held to his head, fist-fought his own father, and been in business with people who have the power to make him disappear. He never even flinched. 
The few things that have scared him, were nothing to do with him and everything to do with you and your life together. 
He was struck with deep visceral fear when he found out about your son, James, and down petrified when he found out about your daughter, Eleanor. 
He was drowning in fear driving you to the hospital as contractions ripped through you, and he almost threw up the first time your son got an injury. 
However, nothing elicits terror all the way in his bones as much as that look in your eyes or the fire in your voice when you're angry at him. 
Usually, he knows he did something and gets ahead of the storm. He buys you something nice, plans a date, and prepares an elaborate apology. 
You see it from a mile away, but it usually works. Tonight, however, he's blindsided and has no clue what's gotten you so worked up. It's always worse when he's clueless about his fuck up.
He has no doubt he did something; he screws up all the time without realizing it. But knowing allows him to have a game plan and tailored approach. 
Right now he's floundering. 
"Kids, go to your room. I need to talk to your father." 
There's thinly veiled rage in your voice as you try your best not to show it in front of your children. They stand to leave and Rafe's frantic voice rings out. 
"No, kids stay. Please." 
Your eyes narrow as your seven and nine-year-old falter and look between the two of you. 
"Go." 
They start walking again and Rafe stops them. 
"No, stay. I'll pay you each $50 if you sit back down." 
Your son looks at his sister and they seem to have a silent conversation when you speak through gritted teeth. 
"Go, now.' 
Your daughter starts to leave while your son stays in place and Rafe tries to grab her arm as she passes by. 
"Eleanor, stay!" 
His pleading falls on deaf ears as she beelines for the stairs and he turns to your son that's now moving in the same direction. 
"James, don't go!" 
He watches as they both disappear and calls out after them. 
"Kids, don't leave me!"
He turns back to you with a timid smile and shrinks back when he sees the storm brewing in your usually bright eyes. 
"Hone-" He starts but you cut him off. 
"Don't, Rafe."
His mouth snaps shut and he waits for you to continue. The ball is in your court, it always is. You're the only woman that's ever been able to put him in his place, and while it's the reason he fell for you, it's also the reason he fears for his life sometimes. This is one of those moments. 
Your eyes bore into him for a few moments and you take in the genuinely clueless look on his handsome features. 
"You have no idea why I'm mad, do you?"
His silence is all the answer you need, and you huff. 
"Were you going to tell me you took the kids out of school for a joyride in Charleston?"
The words come down on him like a hammer and his eyes flutter closed. Fuck.
"Don't be mad."
You scoff and cross your arms. 
"I think we both know we're well past that." 
He does know that, but he figures it couldn't hurt to try. 
"They've been begging to go to that amusement park, and our weekends have been so booked up we haven't had the chance. I felt bad, and my dad never did stuff like that with us. I just wanted to make a memory with them." 
You feel yourself deflate a bit at his reasoning, but it doesn't make it okay. 
"I understand that, Rafe. But their education is important. When you do stuff like that, especially behind my back, it makes me look like the fun-sucking parent. We promised when we found out about James that we wouldn't do that."
He nods his head and you feel the anger dissipate at the genuine sorrow in his eyes. 
"I know, baby. I'm sorry. I won't do it again."
You stand still with your lips pursed for a moment before nodding. It's silent for a few seconds when a smile breaks out on your husband's face. 
"Wait, are you really mad about that? Because we've done stuff like that before. Or are you mad that you missed out and didn't get a funnel cake?" 
The way this man sees right through you gets on your nerves sometimes, and you scramble to hide the fact you've been caught. 
"What? No, of course not. That's ridiculous." 
His smile only grows as he stands and wraps his arms around you. You stare up at him with defiance and he tilts his head to the side like a puppy. 
"Is it?"
You roll your eyes and will yourself not to give in. 
"Yes." 
He nods with a shit-eating grin and lowers his face to nip on your ear. 
"Would you still be mad if I told you we can go back this weekend and you can get all the snacks you want?"
He nuzzles into your neck when he feels your smile on the side of his face before pulling back. 
"Really?"
His heart warms at the way you light up like a little kid at the idea and he nods. 
"Really." 
He sees the moment your walls come down and you return his embrace. 
"Can we play the games too?"
He chuckles and kisses your temple softly. 
"Anything you want." 
The last of the fight leaves you and you surrender to him completely.
"Okay, fine. You're forgiven."
You squeal as he spins you around and loud laughter bubbles from your chest. 
"That's my girl. I love you."
You grin as he sets you back down and nudge his shoulder. 
"I love you too. Even if you do piss me off."
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