#and i need every word to be perfect before i can move on to the next and that just creates an interminable cycle of being so slow to
Text
the pro
Pairing: Art Donaldson x Reader
Rating: Explicit - 18+ only. minors, please get off my lawn.
Notes: My brain chose violence this morning. Not beta-read because when is it ever.
Length: 4.8K
Warnings: Slow burn; unhappily married reader; divorced Art Donaldson; infidelity; oral sex (female receiving); vaginal sex; unsafe sex
Summary: Every lesson becomes an exercise in self-control. You force yourself to try, really try, and not make silly mistakes for the sake of Art coming closer, grasping your arm or elbow, pressing close and redirecting your swing. You don’t know what you crave more these days: his praise or his touch.
He's the biggest men's tennis star since Andy Roddick.
That’s what your husband says, as if it’ll entice you. As if you know anything about tennis, about the pro that your husband says will be coming to the house to teach you to play.
It’ll be good for you. You need a hobby.
You don’t gripe or argue. You don’t tell him that five months into your marriage shouldn’t have you looking for a new hobby. You should still be in the honeymoon stage, spending all of your time with him, hanging off of his arm, off of his every word. But he works so much and he’s away so often—
I don’t want you to get bored.
It’s a sweet gesture. The maid handles the housework; you have a chef that handles most of the grocery shopping and cooking, unless you insist on making something yourself; you have a housekeeper that arranges for anything you need—dry cleaning, maintenance. And it’s no wonder that with all of his money, his power, he can just order a retired pro tennis player up to your house, like you’d order a pizza. There’s a tennis court in the back of the mansion, a few feet from the pool. You’ll get some new outfits, the best sneakers, the nicest rackets. You’ll finally have something to do to fill your days.
Art Donaldson.
You know his name before the lean, fair-skinned patrician man turns up at your front door. He trails you through the house, politely declines your offer of a beverage.
“You ever played tennis before?” He asks.
You haven’t. Before your husband arranged this for you, you hadn’t so much as given the sport more than a passing thought. You don’t have the heart or confidence to tell that to a man that’s made tennis his whole life, so you just give him a small, guilty smile and say no, you haven’t. He nods, waves you off, insists that it’s fine.
“We’ll start with the basics.”
--
Two months of lessons on the basics make your arms tired, and your hands sore. But where your swings are clumsy and your grip is weak at first, you can see improvement in the way that you move. Your steps are less clumsy when you go after a ball; you’re more aware of the service line and the base line; your forehand stroke from contact to your left shoulder is smoother; your rotation and follow-through on your backhand is coming along, but has a long way to go.
Art’s instruction is calm and steady. He explains technique as much as he demonstrates it. When you get something wrong, he doesn’t scold, just lightly corrects. When you do something well, his encouragement is constant and free-flowing. Every accurate move and motion is met with, “Nice,” or, “Perfect,” or, “That’s it.”
On the days when you don’t have a lesson with Art, you practice. You order a tennis ball machine to work on your forehand and backhand. You attempt (and fail) to learn how to slice on your own. You try anyway—you can only imagine the way his eyes might light up if you manage to surprise him.
You’ve tried to ignore the rising interest that you have in Art, but you can’t help the little…Crush that’s developed. He’s just so attentive, and kind. When you find yourself smiling these days, it’s often because of something that he said, or did. You can’t remember the last time your husband made you feel giddy this way. It was probably when you started dating—before you’d made the decision to marry for comfort, rather than love. Your husband is practical, rarely physically affectionate, more heavily involved in his job and social circles than with you.
But you’ll have to find a way to thank him. He’s given you a hobby, and a man that grins at you like you just painted the goddamn Mona Lisa when you serve your first ace.
--
“So, tell me about the Mark Rebellato Academy.”
Art smiles, dipping his head as he reaches for his coffee. It’s taken a few months, but you finally convince him to have something to drink with you after practice. Your chef is blessedly out shopping for ingredients for dinner, so you have the kitchen all to yourself. Art has watched you putter around, seeming surprised that you know where everything is. You can’t blame him; the kitchen is chef-grade, and you don’t cook much these days.
“Did your husband tell you that’s where I went?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know?”
You’re too embarrassed to admit that you’ve done some googling, and watched a couple of clips of him interviewing before and after his matches.
“I’ve just heard,” You fib. “Tell me about it?”
He leans back in his seat, eyes skating across your face as he seems to consider something.
“What do you wanna know?”
“Did you enjoy it? I mean—” It feels like a dumb question once it’s out, and you hurry to redirect, “With what you know now, if you had the choice, would you have learned how to play tennis somewhere else?”
He considers for a moment, trailing his finger over the side of his cup. Your gaze flits to his fingers, and your own flex around your mug handle. You’ve spent far too much time looking at and thinking about Art’s fingers—their length and quickness; the slight roughness of his calloused hands; the lingering tan line from where his wedding band used to sit.
“Yeah,” He admits, drawing your full attention back to his face. “I would. It was foundational, you know. I’ve been thinking of sending Lily there.”
“Lily?”
A bittersweet smile twists his lips. “My daughter.”
“Oh!” It catches you off-guard.
“Tashi, uh—” He clears his throat, “Lily’s mother, my ex-wife. She and I are thinking about schools.”
“I’m sure they’d be glad to have her. Does she play tennis?”
“Little bit. She didn’t start until last year, but she's a natural.” He clears his throat again, presses, “Are you and your husband planning on having kids?”
“Oh god no.” You blurt it out, and realize as he raises his brows that you’ve spoken too quickly. You lean back in your seat, stirring your coffee quickly to distract yourself from your growing embarrassment. “He actually has kids already. Two girls, seven and ten. They’re at boarding school and they stay with their mother when they're on vacation. I haven’t gotten to spend much time with them.”
“...He seems to be pretty busy.”
“He is.”
“So it’s just you in this big house?” He tips his head to the side, brows knitting with curiosity. “What do you do all day?”
“Play tennis.”
He grins, chuckling, and your stomach flips at the sound.
“It shows, you know,” He says.
“What do you mean?”
“I can tell you’re practicing without me. And,” He leans across the table, running his fingers lightly over the exposed skin of your bicep, “You’re getting stronger.”
You wonder if he can see or feel the goosebumps that break out across your skin at the gentle sweep, his gaze heavy on yours.
“I have a good teacher,” You murmur. Art’s lips twitch with a soft smile, his hand gently cupping your arm.
“Just good?” He plies.
“The best. A real pro.”
His smile widens, and the flash of his tongue sweeping across his lower lip makes your face go hot. You know that you’re caught when Art’s touch becomes firmer, pulling your arm toward him just a little.
The sound of approaching footsteps startles you, and you hurriedly tug your arm away. The sight of your husband makes your heart leap into your throat.
“There you are,” He smiles. “Art, how’s she doin’?”
“She’s killing it.”
You don’t dare look at him, but you can feel the weight of his attention lingering on you still. You just give your husband a smile, tipping your cheek up obligingly as he leans down to kiss it.
“Actually, Art,” Your husband straightens up, hands resting on your shoulders. “I’m glad I caught you. There’s a charity event for a local club this month. It’s for uh…What is it?” He squeezes your shoulders for answers, and you have to keep from rolling your eyes.
“It’s a charity tennis match to raise funds to fix up the local courts. They need resurfacing and they’re raising funding to keep the fees down.”
“We could use a sponsorship from the foundation,” Your husband adds.
“Honey,” You glance back, wary of insulting Art. But—
“I’ll do it,” Art agrees. “Send me the details.”
“Excellent,” Your husband grins. “Maybe we could coax you into a match or two.”
You don’t chastise him this time—not when you see something light up in Art.
“Maybe.”
--
You haven’t seen Art play before. You’ve specifically avoided it. You’ve known that when you saw it, you would be too intimidated to do a damn thing on the court with him. But now, you can’t stop watching him. You don’t even care that you probably look so out of place—where everyone else is watching the ball, you’re just watching him.
His movements are so neat, so precise. It’s like watching a dance. He’s running the poor guy on the other side of the net up and down the court. And the sounds that he’s making—god. Every little grunt and groan is weaving increasingly filthy thoughts in your mind. You already know that you’ll seek out the memory of those sounds, as you reach between your legs later. His shirt clings to his chest, showcasing the muscles that you’ve always suspected he has. Strands of hair plaster to his forehead as sweat drips over his cheekbones, down the bridge of his nose, over his jaw.
When he scores a match point and he looks toward the cheering crowd—when his eyes land on you instantly, without having to search—it’s like you’ve been hit by a bolt of lightning. You can’t think, or move. You barely have the focus to applaud, but you manage to raise your hands and clap.
--
Every lesson becomes an exercise in self-control. You force yourself to try, really try, and not make silly mistakes for the sake of Art coming closer, grasping your arm or elbow, pressing close and redirecting your swing. You don’t know what you crave more these days: his praise or his touch.
Coffee becomes a post-lesson ritual. He starts to stick closer and closer to you as he follows you into the house until he begins to rest his hand on your lower back, guiding you to your door. He keeps nearby when you’re making it, brushes droplets of sweat off of your forehead or neck. Every touch is electrifying; you have to make a concentrated effort to keep your hands steady, your face neutral as your heart pounds and your stomach floods with butterflies.
He pushes you harder on the court, and you force yourself to meet the level that he sets for you, even when you don’t feel confident in it. But you want to make him proud.
It spurs you to lunge a little too far.
The sharp stabbing pain in your left ankle makes you shriek, and you tumble to the ground, dropping the racket with a clatter. You hear the pounding of his feet, glance up just in time to see him clear the net before he’s on the ground at your side.
“What hurts?”
“My ankle,” You grit out, hissing softly as he helps you straighten your leg out. He smooths his hands over your calf, leaning over you and gently guiding your foot in a few different directions. You whimper as he starts to guide your foot to the left.
“Okay, okay,” He soothes, “Let’s get you inside.”
For as much as you damn the throbbing in your ankle, you thank it a little, too. You lean heavily against Art, making the slow, arduous journey back to the house with his arm wrapped tightly around your middle.
When your husband comes home, he finds you with on the couch with Art coming back in from the kitchen, an ice pack in your hand.
You’d hope for concern, but your husband frowns, glances at the swelling knob of your ankle, and simply asks: “What did you do?”
“She lost her balance.” Art sits down on the other end of the couch, soothing you as the chill of the ice pack makes you shift with discomfort.
“Are you going to be able to walk tomorrow?” Your husband presses. “We have dinner at the Fineman’s.”
“I'm still going, don't worry about that."
“...Tomorrow might be a bit soon,” Art warns.
“I’ll be okay. It’s just a sprain, right?” You tip your brows up, hoping, praying that he’ll agree for your sake. His fingers flex around the ice pack, jaw ticking as he clenches it. He doesn’t say a word as your husband sighs heavily, grumbles, “I hope so. Still, we should put a pause on the lessons until she’s fighting fit again.”
Art finally tears his eyes from yours, a tight smile on his lips.
“Of course.”
--
“How’s the ankle?”
It takes you a moment to scrounge up an answer. You can’t believe that he called. You knew that Art had gotten your number when you started taking lessons with him, but he’s never used it beyond texting to confirm a lesson time now and again.
You look down at the still-swollen flesh as it strains against the thin strap of your slingbacks.
“Fine,” You lie, “It’s um—” You glance over your shoulder, listening for your husband. “It’s not that bad.”
“Good enough to walk on?”
Hardly.
“Yes.” You think you’ve gotten away with it, but when you hear Art sigh and chastise, “You should rest,” You know that you haven’t.
“I have,” You insist, “All day.”
“Are you sure you’re alright?”
“Yes.”
“You can tell him no, you know.”
Your mouth works wordlessly, body going hot with indignation. You can’t think of a thing to say. You can’t tell him that he’s wrong, that your husband’s connections are the lifeblood of his business. You can’t tell him that if your husband’s business falls apart, you won't be able to afford those tennis lessons, and then how the hell are you supposed to see Art again?
You just yank your phone away from your ear and hang up.
--
I invited Art.
It shouldn’t be a surprise, but your husband’s statement makes you feel like you’ve swallowed your tongue. You haven’t seen or spoken to Art in nearly two weeks. Your doctor recommended putting off any physical activity, which your husband surely relayed to him. He was the one whose name was on Art’s checks, after all.
Your husband has always thrown a massive party to kick off the summer. Every year, 150 of your husband’s closest family, friends, and business associates flooded into the house. It shouldn’t be such a surprise that your husband invited Art after the performance he had given at the fundraiser—$25,000 from the foundation, and ticket sales went through the roof when it had been announced that the Art Donaldson would be making an appearance. Your husband owed Art a lot, and probably saw this as an opportunity for him to network, to take on more clients. He had been evangelizing Art’s training to any of your friends that would listen—how good you are on the court, how engaged and energetic you seem to be these days.
It’s one thing to know that you’ll have to put on a happy face for the crowd, but to know that Art will be among them makes your insides twist with nerves. You can’t stop thinking about the way that he had spoken to you when you were hurt; his calm, steadying demeanor as he’d gotten you inside; the careful coaxing and gentle touch that he’d used as he’d taken your shoe off and examined your ankle more closely.
You think about it now, as you strap on another pair of heels. Your ankle really is doing well, though you have a little lingering pain in shoes like these. You’ll likely be on your feet for the length of the party; it’s going to be a long night. You look over yourself in the mirror, self consciously tipping your ankle from side to side for anything that he may spot or catch out. But there’s nothing, you reassure yourself. You slide your hands over the skirt, plastering on a smile as your husband pokes his head into your dressing room.
“Almost ready in here?” He asks.
“All set!”
--
He doesn’t come over to you. On the crowded patio, you can feel him watching you—you’ve gotten so used to seeking out the sensation that you can’t ignore it now. The first true look at him is agony. He watches you from just a few feet away, a glass of champagne in hand as he speaks with your husband and the Finemans. He openly looks you over, eyes drifting over your body to the flash of ankle revealed by the slit in your dress. He tips his head to the side just a little, squinting before his eyes flit back up to your face, lips twitching with a small smile.
You want to hate how good it feels; you want to be angry with him for his smug knowing, his insistence of You can tell him no, you know. But it feels so goddamn good to have his attention again that you can’t bring yourself to be annoyed. You know that you’re staring—that you both are—and you force yourself to turn away and excuse yourself from the conversation you’re in. You go inside, murmuring your thanks for the waitstaff that pass you along the way.
The house isn’t nearly as busy as the patio, and you're able to slip into your darkened study unnoticed. You leave the lights off, certain that if you turn them on, people will be drawn in to bug you, like moths to a flame. The party’s lights and music filter in through the partially-closed blinds.
You lean against the desk, circling your ankle and wincing a little. You’ll hide for a few minutes, let it rest—
Your breath catches in your throat as the door opens. You expect your husband, ready to scold and usher you back to the guests.
You only have a second to get a look at Art before he shuts the door behind himself, plunging the room back into darkness. Your fingers tighten around the edge of the desk as you use it to ground yourself.
“...Do you need something?” You ask, voice wobbling with nerves.
“Wanted to come say hi.”
“Well. Hi.”
You hear him chuckle, his footsteps muted by the carpet.
“Thanks for the invite.”
“It wasn’t my idea.” It’s not polite to admit, but you want it to sting him, just a little. Maybe it does; in the dim of the room, you can’t see Art’s expression as he comes to a stop just a couple of feet from you.
“Do you want me to go?” He asks. You know what you should say, but you can’t bring yourself to say it.
“No,” You whisper. You feel the heat of him as he comes closer, his hands resting on the desk and caging you in. You bite your lip as gently brushes his nose against yours.
“He isn’t taking care of you.”
“My ankle is fine.”
“I’m not talking about your ankle.” He lifts a hand, smoothing it over your hip as your breath mingles. Art’s fingers drift from your hip to stroke over the apex of your dress’s slit. His fingers slip further down, and you nod as he palms your thigh. Before you can say or do a thing, Art sinks to his knees. He curls his hand around your left calf, lifting it. You shiver as his lips press a gentle kiss to your ankle. His hand and lips travel up, easing the fabric of your dress higher with each second. The first brush of his knuckles against your panty-covered clit makes you jolt. Your hands dig into the wood of the desk as his fingers hook between the fabric and your skin. You lift your hips without a word, allowing him to draw them down.
Art presses a kiss to your mound before he lowers his head, giving your lips a sweet, sucking kiss. You gasp softly as his tongue swipes across your clit. You look down despite the fact that you can’t see him well. You can just make out his blissful expression, his eyes closed as his laps broadly across your aching cunt. You lower your hand to his neat hair, winding your fingers through it, unable to help grasping it. His heady moan vibrates against you and you nearly cry out at the sensation. You manage to just catch it, the sound dying in your throat as Art buries his tongue inside you. He sweeps his thumb over your clit in rush, harried circles, panting against your heated flesh. You rock your hips down against his lips, tightening your grip on his hair as you guide him. He lets you do as you please, whining against your skin as your movements become less controlled.
“Art,” You warn, “I—Oh, oh god—”
He hums in encouragement, sucking your clit back between his lips and lashing it with his tongue. Your jaw drops open, your hand shoving Art even more tightly against your skin as you cum suddenly. A stunned, breathy moan slips from your lips as Art leans back, smearing his lips against the inside of your thigh.
You use your grasp on Art’s hair to draw him back up off of his knees, giving him a crushing kiss as he catches his balance. You swipe your tongue across his lips, whining against his lips as you taste yourself on him. He presses close, his hard cock straining against the fabric of his pants. You reach down, palming and squeezing his length as you trade slick, messy kisses. He steers you back onto the desk as you fumble to undo his belt, button, and zip.
“Condom?” He asks.
“Pill,” You reassure, shoving his pants down. You lap broadly across your palm, grasping Art’s length and guiding him closer. He brushes the tip of his cock against your still-throbbing clit, smiling as you whine. You’re going to ache tomorrow, but you’ve never been so happy to be sore.
“Art.”
“Sssh.”
“Please—” It’s hardly out of your mouth before he shoves his hips forward, seating himself fully with a single thrust. You bite down on your lip to quiet your moan, curling your arms around your shoulders. He rocks into you with firm, quick strokes, his mouth covering yours. You can hear things on the desk rattling with each thrust, kisses growing less controlled as he hoists your thigh up around his hip.
“Oh, god,” You breathe, “We have to be quick—He’ll come looking—”
“Not until you cum for me again,” He urges. “I need to feel it, sweetheart.”
“Art—”
“When’s the last time he did this? Hmm?” He presses, “When’s the last time he made you cum? When’s the last time he tasted you?”
“Never,” You admit with a shiver. It seems to renew Art’s passion, his thrusts and hold growing more intense. You squeeze your eyes shut, hands hooking tightly in the fabric of his jacket. He yanks the front of your dress down, bowing over you and drawing one of your nipples between his lips. You whimper as he toys with the bud, tugging it gently with his teeth before swiping across it. You arch into the slick heat, using your leg to tug him even closer as you chased the swelling curl of your orgasm.
“Just like that,” You urge, “Ffffuck—yes, yesyesyesyes—”
Your eyes squeeze shut as your hips buck down against his, pussy pulsing as he spills into you. Your heart pounds in your chest as the two of you slow and still. Art rests his forehead heavily against your neck, peppering gentle kisses across the exposed skin. You have to move—now. You don’t know if anyone heard you, but if someone did, you’re screwed. If no one did, your husband will probably be looking for you anyway, ready with a scold for neglecting your hostess duties.
“...I have to go,” You warn softly. It takes Art a moment to move, but he does, gently drawing himself back from his still-throbbing cunt. You hear the clanking of his belt buckle as he tucks himself away, and you reach down, righting your dress where it’s been pulled away. You take up your panties from where they’d been discarded on the floor, tugging them on before you straighten your skirt and hurry out of the room.
--
“Can I see you?”
It’s only been an hour since the last guest has left, and you are so, so fucking tired. You glance toward the bathroom door. You know that you locked it, and you’re certain that your husband can’t hear you over the shower running, but you can’t help but be paranoid.
“You just saw me,” You remind him.
“Tomorrow,” Art clarifies.
“Where?”
“I’ll send an address.”
You bite your lip, toying with your earring. Your pussy is still aching from the stretch of him, your ass sore from getting fucked on the desk.
“...You regret it?” He asks.
“No,” You don't give your answer a second thought.
“I’ll send an address. Whether or not you see me is up to you. Just…think about it. Okay?”
“Okay.”
You lower your phone, hanging it up and watching his contact information blink away. It’s only a moment before a text with an address lights up your phone. You don’t have to think about it. You already know what you’re going to do.
--
You know that you’re staring, but you can’t bring yourself to stop. Art has spent so much time in your home, so you feel entitled to look around a little bit. You eye the row of trophies on his mantle, photos of him playing when he was young. You come to a stop at a picture of him with a young girl, a racket in her hand and a medal around her neck.
“Is this Lily?” You ask.
“Yeah,” He nods. “First competition.”
“Already getting gold,” You smile. “The Mark Rebellato Academy isn’t ready for her.”
Art chuckles, nodding as he steps around you.
“You, uh…You want something to eat, or drink, or…?” He trails off, tucking his hands into his pockets as he takes a couple of steps back toward his kitchen. You turn to face him, taking him in more fully.
“Art?”
“Yeah?”
“Why am I here?”
He doesn’t answer for a few moments. You can see him weighing his options before he comes closer.
“I…I’ve been thinking about last night.”
Fear shoots through you, but you force yourself to stand tall. “Okay.”
“I could lie and tell you that it should be a one-time thing, but I can’t remember the last time I got through a day without thinking about you. And I think you’ve been thinking about me, too.” Art stops as the tip of his shoes brush against yours, and you let your eyes slip closed as he rests his forehead against yours.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” He pleads. “Tell me to fuck off right now and I will never say another non-tennis related thing to you again.”
--
When he fucks you, he curls close, chest pressing against yours as he catches your lips in a kiss. You sink back against his pillows, your head cradled by his broad palm as he rolls his hips achingly slowly. You don’t bother to hide your whines and moans, and you revel in his. Every grunt and whimper and groan that Art lets out lights you up.
And when you cum, you don't have to quiet yourself. His name tumbles out of your mouth, cushioned between expletives as your nails dig into his shoulders.
--
"What time is he home tonight?"
You don't want to think about it. You want to stay in this cozy little bubble, trailing your fingers over his muscled chest as he massages your nape and kisses your forehead.
But you know that you'll have to let the world back in sometime.
"I don't know," You admit. "Late."
"...Could stay."
"He'll be suspicious if I'm not home when he gets there."
Art sighs softly, running his hand down to rub between your shoulder blades.
"This isn't going to be easy, is it."
"What?"
"Letting you go every day."
"Every day?" You tease, pushing yourself up to get a better look at him. "Don't get greedy, Mr. Donaldson."
He smiles, raising his hand and cupping your cheek. "Is it greedy to know what I want?"
You shake your head a little, lowering your lips to brush against his.
"Not when I want it, too."
Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @amneris21
@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity
@millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ;
@buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989
#Art Donaldson x Reader#Art Donaldson x You#Art Donaldson/Reader#Art Donaldson/You#Art Donaldson fic#Art Donaldson imagine#the pro
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okay but newlywed jason and reader fucking raw for the first time on their wedding night 🥰 (please and thank you🫶🏼)
-🌷
Warnings: 18+, also this isn't like good smut but it is super smutty
word count: 0.9k
Jason was impatient. Being impatient at his wedding was probably the worst thing imaginable. All he wanted was to be close to his wife in her gorgeous white dress that only accentuated her every curve. So, he waited and waited until it was time for him and her to finally leave. They were supposed to spend one night in Gotham before taking off on their honeymoon. Jason barely allowed her to reach the threshold of the hotel door before pouncing on her.
His mouth was on hers as his hands searched for the best way to get her out of the dress. He should've been planning this. He thought the dress was money well spent but it would look so much better on the floor.
"Jason, the dress," She gasped as she heard buttons ripp from behind her. Jason snorted and began to kiss down her neck as he continued to rip the fabric. That's what they get for putting a million tiny buttons, he thought.
"Sweetheart, you were only gonna wear it once anyway," He reminded her. She shook her head at her new husband's antics and was glad she went with a simple hairstyle.
"I have been waiting to tear this off of you all day," He groaned as he tore through the last of the fabric and helped her step out of the last of the dress. He could feel his dick strain against his pants as he took in the sight of her body in white lace lingerie. He couldn't undress himself quickly enough.
"Did you wear this just for me?" He asked once he was stripped down to his boxers. She took his hand and led him to the bed of the hotel with a shy nod. She went to kneel but Jason stopped her.
"I vowed as your husband to always take care of you first," He spoke genuinely and gestured for her to get on the bed. Once she was on her back he crawled in between her legs and licked a broad stripe to her white lace panties. He pulled them down and was tempted to sniff them before diving into the feast in front of him. No, he'd save the sniffing for later.
Hooking his arms around her thighs, he dove into her pussy. He was sure to spell his name with his tongue because every part of her was his. He pumped two fingers in and out of her as his tongue danced along her clit. Her hips pressed further into his face as he continued his work. He would look up through his thick lashes to see the most beautiful sight in the world. Her moans were a little too close to an orgasm for his comfort so he stopped his pumping and removed his fingers from her. He made a show of sucking her pussy juice off each of his fingers.
"Jay, I need you," She whined as he slid off the bed to check his bag for condoms.
"Just a sec," He was moving as quickly as he could. He wanted this as much as she did. Their first night together as husband and wife. It had to be perfect.
"We don't need those," She called out. Jason froze in his actions. Before the wedding, the two of them had been so careful to avoid any slip-ups. Who was he to deny a request of his wife?
"Oh, you want me to fill your pussy with cum? Make you mine in every way possible?" He walked over to the bed and hovered over her. He nipped at the top of her still-confined breasts before undoing the hook in the front. He sucked one breast while kneading the other with his calloused hand.
"Please," She begged for him to fuck her how he had been dreaming about. He rubbed her clit with his cock before sinking into her pussy. Their hips met and she let out a small hiss from his size. No matter how many times she had taken his dick before there was always an adjustment to his heavy cock.
"It's okay, you can take it, " Jason kissed the top of her hairline before slowly sliding in and out of her pussy. Jason had flushed red from the amount of self-control it took for him not to explode in the moment. It was the first time they had ever fucked raw and he could feel the warmth of her pussy in ways he had only dreamed about.
He noticed that her face was less tense and her expression had turned to bliss. He placed his hands on her hips and began to stroke faster. Her hands dug into his shoulders and crescent nail marks were embedded in his flesh. His arms were strong from years of training and working out but now they were great for holding her in place so she couldn't squirm from his cock.
"That's it, baby," He grunted as her legs opened wider to give him better access. Her mouth fell open once he hit the perfect spot. Jason smirked and continued to drill into her. Her breaths became sharper as Jason whispered words of encouragement to her. He reminded her over and over how perfect she was and her pussy was made just for him.
"Cum on my cock, baby," He was doing his best to keep his orgasm at bay so that she could reach hers. With a few more strokes, she fell apart on his cock. Her breaths were uneven as she reached her orgasm. Jason let out a deep breath as he came into her. He continued his thrusts ever so slightly just to watch the cum cream around his cock. Yeah, this was his favorite part of marriage.
taglist: @flyestvenustrap@megamindsecretlair@blxckdesire @prettyvintageafternoon@lilbanas@certifiedloverwoman@melissa-ashe @hoyoooo
#x black!reader#black!reader#x black reader#black reader#jason todd smut#jason todd x reader#jason todd x black!reader#jason todd x black reader#jason smut#jason x black!reader#jason x black reader
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✨ Behind (Not So) Closed Doors✨
As promised, here’s a little story of the one prompt I got a little bit ago! Literally no one voted ‘no’ on the poll for this story and I think that’s hysterical, bunch of thirsty mfs (affectionate 💖)
Lucifer x f!sinner reader
Summary: You catch Lucifer acting out on his most carnal desires…
Warnings: 18+, smut, masturbation, voyeurism, fingering, hand job, (oral m & f receiving), p in v
You remember first meeting the King of Hell on the day you checked yourself into the Hazbin Hotel. And you remember thinking that Lucifer looked nothing like you had pictured. Of course he was beautiful, that wasn’t shocking, but he was so…unimposing. Not only that, but he was also kind, albeit a bit dorky as well. Not that it was off putting to you, it was endearing if anything!
Although, you hadn’t spoken to him all that much since the time you’d moved in. Lucifer seemed so nonchalant and relaxed with everyone else in the hotel, save for Alastor, who you noticed always managed to get under the fallen angel’s skin one way or another. Even you knew the radio demon was playing with fire; probably wasn’t the smartest idea to piss off the most powerful being in Hell. Regardless, how he acted around you was a little odd to say the least. It seemed like Lucifer was always trying to avoid you for some unknown reason. Did he not like you?
When you had first spoken to him all those months ago, you could tell he was tense. He rambled, a lot. And he somehow managed to fumble every other word that left his mouth. He quickly left after your initial meeting, and ever since then it had been nearly impossible to get in more than five words at a time. He had an impossibly perfect disappearing act, what with his portaging abilities. One time you greeted him from across the lobby and his only response was “O-Oh! H-Hey you! Uhh, I just, umm…welp, gotta run!” and took off before you could even say goodbye. Truly bizarre.
You eventually went to Charlie, telling her that her dad was seemingly very distant towards you. “Oh, don’t worry about that!” Charlie explained. “He’s a pretty busy guy, so he’s usually popping in and out of here pretty frequently. And he’s told me on multiple occasions that he’s glad you joined the hotel! He can come off as a bit scatterbrained, but rest assured he’s more than happy to have you here! And so am I!”
You smiled and thanked her. From the few months that you’ve known her, Charlie was never one to lie, so you decided to take her words at face value. For now, at least. For some reason, you still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was up with Lucifer. You needed to find out.
A few nights had passed and you found yourself wandering through the lobby. The black nightgown you typically wore to bed didn't provide nearly enough heat, but you didn't want to change back into your normal day clothes either. So, you threw on your favorite pink robe before you left your room, it was more than enough to keep you comfortable. It was late, way later than you should have been awake. Even Husk was asleep, the bar sat devoid of any life. It was difficult to sleep most nights, you were still grappling with the fact that you were, in fact, in Hell. You thought you were a decent person in life. Never religious but you tried your best to while you were alive. But that didn’t seem to matter. Perhaps you should have attended church with your family more often, or donated to more charities, or not cut that one person off at that traffic light. Lying awake in your bed didn’t help these thoughts but getting up and walking around usually helped just a tad.
You glanced over to the fireplace, noticing the flames dancing against the walls. That was strange, considering no one ever used the fireplace, or at least not that you’ve seen. But then you noticed one of the large chairs in front of it wasn’t empty. A white sleeve laid across the arm rest. You walked over out of pure curiosity, just to see who was awake at this ungodly hour like you. You craned your neck to see Lucifer sitting there frozen, his head down and eyes closed with his free hand pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked troubled. Before you could speak up, you heard him mumble under his breath.
“What the hell am I going to do…”
Worried, you outstretched your hand, but stopped short of touching his arm. “Sir?”
Lucifer’s eyes shot open instantly, turning his head to see you towering over him. He leapt from his chair completely startled and began stumbling backwards towards the fire pit.
“Watch out!” you warned, gripping his hand, and pulling him towards you. Lucifer held his breath, trying to process what had just happened. His head ended up flush against your chest, your face now feeling as hot as the flames in the pit. You let go of his hand and stepped away from him as fast as you could. Lucifer remained motionless. “I-I’m so sorry, your majesty! I didn’t mean for you to…I’m sorry!”
You finally heard Lucifer exhale. He stood up straight and fixed his wrinkled jacket, making every effort to not look you in the eyes.
“It’s alright, m-my dear,” he spoke softly, “no harm done. A-And please, call me Lucifer.”
“Okay. Lucifer,” you started, “I didn’t mean to startle you. I saw you over here and I heard what you said and…is everything alright?”
Lucifer was tense again. You noticed him clench his fists. “How much did you hear?”
“Not much,” you admitted. “you just sounded worried about something.”
The king let out a sigh, letting his hands relax. “Thank you for your concern, I-I appreciate it. It’s nothing…nothing that you need to trouble yourself with. It’ll be fine.” Lucifer waved his hand, a portal now swirling open behind him, leading to his bedroom. “I think we should both get some sleep now. And t-thank you for catching me. Although, fire can’t harm me…b-but I appreciate the rescue nonetheless!” He was about to step through the portal when you caught his hand once more.
“Wait,” you said quietly. Lucifer looked down at the ground, still refusing to meet your gaze. You frowned. “Sir-I mean Lucifer…I wanted to ask you something. I need to know.” You felt his hand squeeze yours; he was tense again. “I-I’ve been feeling like I’m not welcome here by you.” Lucifer finally lifted his head, his eyes almost piercing your soul. He looked distraught at your words. You never noticed how beautiful his eyes truly were, the soft yellow complimented his pure white skin nicely. You blushed slightly but shook your head and tried to remember what you were saying. “I-I just mean, you seem to avoid me every time I’m near. If I’ve done something to upset you, I’m very sorry. And if you’d rather I’d not stay here, then…”
“NO!” he shouted, now gripping your hand with both of his. “I-I mean, no. You haven’t done anything wrong! Please…Please don’t leave. I should be the one apologizing if that’s truly how you’ve been feeling. I never want you to feel unwelcome here, especially not from me. It…It’s just that…I…” Before he could finish his explanation, his eyes dropped for just a split second before returning to yours. His gaze had somehow shifted into a more panicked expression. He let go of your hands immediately and stepped through his portal in a hurry. “I-I have to go, I’m sorry!” You couldn’t get another word out before his portal disappeared from view.
You stood alone in the parlor, alone and confused. The fire had died out, and you felt a shiver down your spine at the realization of how cold it had gotten without it. But you couldn’t let the conversation end there. You needed to know what was going on with him. You wouldn’t sleep until you did. Luckily, Lucifer’s room at the hotel was very easy to find.
You made your way up to his tower, replaying the scene in the lobby over and over in your head. Things were going well, weren’t they? He seemed so apologetic when you told him how you felt. And then he just…disappeared like he always does. You really didn’t mean to push the issue, but maybe you came on a little strong. Plus, your rescue of him was a little more than awkward. Not that you minded the closeness, even if it was fleeting. The picture of his head resting against your chest flashed in your mind repeatedly. You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks once more now that you were now mere steps from Lucifer’s door.
Focus, you mentally scolded yourself, can’t think about that. It was an accident! It won’t happen again so just…focus. No wonder he ran!
You stood in front of his door now, your knees somehow weaker than they were a moment ago. Those mental images really didn’t help at all. With a deep inhale, you went to knock, but you stopped short when you heard something from beyond the door. You heard your name.
What?, you thought, How…How did he know I was here? Lucifer didn’t sound angry fortunately, but the inflection in his voice made him sound almost sad. And…breathless? You cracked open the door slowly, a little embarrassed at being caught. You went to open your mouth to apologize for the intrusion, but not even a whisper left your lips. Because what you saw in that room left you completely and utterly frozen where you stood.
Lucifer, the great ruler of Hell, was propped up against the obscene amount of pillows on his bed with his pants pooled at his ankles, his very much erect dick in his hand. His eyes were shut, he hadn’t seen you catch him in this extremely vulnerable state.
Run, run, run, RUN! your mind screamed. Everything in your brain was telling you to shut that door and get out of there as fast as you could. But your body refused to react, you remained motionless. You were completely entranced by the scene before you. You watched as Lucifer stroked his cock, mumbling a number of curse words with your name leaving his lips like a prayer.
“Hnng, G-God damn it-ffffuuuccckk….” Lucifer mumbled, his hand gradually picking up the pace as he stroked his shaft.
You tried to wrap your head around what you were seeing, but you were coming up blank. You couldn't believe this. He’s…He’s touching himself…to me?!? How is this…? Why would he…? Your brain was a jumbled mess at this point. It was really beyond your comprehension. You felt tension pool in your stomach at the sight of him becoming undone at the mere thought of you. The sinful sounds he was making went straight between your thighs, to the point where it became uncomfortable that you weren’t giving yourself any attention. The tiniest bit of you wanted to push open that door and give him what he really desired. But before you even begin to think about acting on your carnal instincts, you watched Lucifer's hips bucked up as he came all over his hand. It took every fiber of your being to hold in a whimper that threatened to escape your throat.
Lucifer’s breathing was labored, you watched him toss his arm over his eyes and throw his head back on the pillows. "What the hell is wrong with me?!" you heard him ask. "Why am I doing this?! It’s been months now and I’ve barely had a normal conversation with her! And of course, the only time I’ve really talked to her was after my damn head was forced against her…her…s-shit.” He waved his hand, a tissue appearing between his fingers. You watched as he cleaned himself up, thankful that he still hadn’t looked towards his door. Lucifer kicked himself out of his pant and swung his legs over the side of the bed, his head hanging low. “And what an absolutely fantastic exit I made! “Sorry, gotta go! My dick is hard as a rock right now because of you!” Great job, Lucifer! No wonder she thinks I don’t want her here!” He sighed heavily. “I can’t do this anymore. This isn’t right. I need to stop being a coward and just tell her how she makes me feel…”
A small gasp escaped your lips.
Fuck.
Lucifer's head shot up immediately, his panicked eyes fixating on the door. You didn't even close it behind you as you took off sprinting down the hall, praying to anyone who could hear you that he didn't see you. You didn’t stop running until you made it back to your room, slamming the door behind you. Your knees gave out from under you as you dropped to the floor. In that second, it all clicked for you. Why Lucifer avoided you at every turn, why he tripped over his words when he spoke to you, and why he practically begged you not to leave the hotel.
Lucifer liked you. Lucifer really liked you. That thought alone could have made you scream if you weren’t trying desperately to hold yourself together. And it’s not like you didn’t have passing thoughts about him. He was gorgeous after all. But not only that, you saw how he acted with the others at the hotel. He was sweet, and silly, and fun, even though you never got to experience it firsthand. Now you knew where Charlie had gotten it from.
But of course, those thoughts never stayed. He didn’t like you, right? So instead of wallowing in what could never be, you thought it best not to dwell. But now…now those thoughts were coming back in full force. The aching between your legs only grew as the very fresh images of Lucifer naked and moaning in his bed flooded your mind.
There was a knock at the door.
“H-Hey,” you heard Lucifer’s voice on the other side, “it’s me. Can we talk?”
You didn’t dare move. You hid your head in your lap, pleading silently that he would give up and go away.
You heard him sigh. “I can see your shadow, you know.”
God damn it…
Slowly you rose from the floor, your trembling hand latching onto the doorknob. But your brain wouldn’t let you turn it no matter how hard you tried. How could you possibly face him after what you saw?
“Please?…”
The way he sounded so desperate; it was impossible not to give in. With a heavy sigh, the doorknob turned and you cracked open the door just enough to see Lucifer standing just outside, his glassy eyes looking into yours. You looked away immediately.
“Hi…” you whispered staring down at the ground.
He lowered himself in an attempt to get you to look at him again. “Can I come in?”
You nodded, opening the door inch by inch until he was able to step inside. You shut the door behind him, folding your arms over your body. You still hadn’t looked at him. The silence between you two was deafening, but you knew he wasn’t going to leave until you talked.
“I’m so sorry!” you both shouted simultaneously. “Wait, what?”
"Hold on now!" Lucifer interjected, "You have nothing to apologize for!"
"Of course I do!" you retorted. "I invaded your privacy when I watched...uhh, n-never mind." When you glanced in his direction, his entire face almost matched the pink circles on his cheeks. You couldn't bring yourself to look at him any longer. "I-It was an accident! I came up to apologize for scaring you off again. But...I heard you call my name a-and I just assumed you already knew I was outside, so I opened the door and...I'm so sorry, I should have knocked, and I should have left immediately…I-"
You didn't notice Lucifer make his way towards you, throwing his hands onto your shoulders and snapping you out of your spiral. "Hey, no more of that," he soothed. "I'm not angry, and I didn't come here to scold you. This is all on me."
You felt tears begin to well up in your eyes. "B-But..."
"My dear, this is my fault, not yours," Lucifer cut you off, bringing his thumb up to cheek to wipe a tear that had fallen. He realized how close he'd gotten to you in his attempt to calm you down. Flustered, he stepped back, folding his arms over his chest. You already missed the closeness. "If you'd let me, I'd like to apologize and, you know, at least attempt to explain myself. Not that what happened was excusable. But if you'd rather I leave now, I'd more than understand. And I don't expect your forgiveness. I...just thought it best to apologize to you directly instead of continuing to avoid you and pretending like nothing happened. I'm deeply and truly sorry for everything."
You felt the sincerity in his words, and you saw the pain in his face thinking he had hurt you. You couldn't let him leave. Not yet.
"Stay...please..." you managed to respond. You made your way over to your bed and gestured for him to follow. You sat down crossed legged near the edge of the bed, Lucifer mirroring your actions. You took a deep breath before speaking once more. "I'm not angry with you either, you know."
A strange mixture shock and confusion flashed across Lucifer's face. "Y-You're not?"
You smiled wearily. "No, I promise. I mean, I'm a little taken aback..." Lucifer winced. "...but not in a bad way! If anything, I feel...flattered, you know?" Your face burned at your own candor. A quick glance at him showed he felt the same heat in his own cheeks.
"R-Regardless," Lucifer cleared his throat, "it was still wrong of me. I could try to give excuses about...my ex-wife being gone for more than 7 years now, or tell you that watching you from afar just sparked something in me that I hadn't felt in God know how long, or..."
"You've been watching me?" you teased, flashing him a small grin.
"Shhhhit, well, I uhh...only sometimes!" Lucifer tried to reason. "A-And not for very long! I just, umm, I just noticed how kind you are with everyone you come into contact with, and you're extremely helpful when it comes to the hotel! And your smile...I MEAN, uhh, C-Charlie absolutely adores you with the way she goes on and on about your progress! We both wonder how you even ended up down here in the first place. And well, you...you're," he gulped, "you're the most beautiful creature I've ever laid my eyes on..."
You sat there frozen, your body trembling slightly. Your mind raced a million miles a minute. You tried to get your mouth so form any sort of words, but nothing. Lucifer started to panic.
"I-I'm sorry! That was really forward of me! I shouldn't have-I uhh...God, this is the worst fucking apology imaginable!" Lucifer brought his hands to his face, covering his eyes and lowering his head. "Maybe it would be best if I just g-MMPH!"
You don't know what came over you, but somehow your lips crashed into Lucifer's. His hands flew from his face, now gripping the bed sheets beneath him. He sat perfectly still, but only for a moment. He couldn't help but give into you, letting his eyelids flutter closed and melting under the kiss. You pulled away after only a few seconds, Lucifer leaning his head forward slightly, still needing more. His crimson irises had grown into saucers, his face hot as the sun. Having the literal King of Hell flustered beyond belief from a single kiss was a sight you absolutely wanted to see more of.
"If you think I'm beautiful, then you are someone who is beyond beauty, your majesty," you cooed. You weren't completely sure where this sudden burst of boldness had sprung from, but you liked it. And from what you were witnessing, all signs pointed to Lucifer being completely enamored with it as well.
You went back to your seated position, but now Lucifer was on all fours, crawling ever so slowly towards you. "P-Please..." he begged, "I-I need more..." His face was now mere inches away. He rested his forehead on yours, waiting for your lips to touch his again. The faint smell of apples that hugged his skin was intoxicating.
"You want me to kiss you again?" you asked playfully. "Then you need to tell me something, darling."
Lucifer's breathing had picked up at the sound the pet name you'd given him, his eyes screwed shut. "A-Anything!"
"Tell me then," you said as you began to stroke his soft blond hair, "what were you thinking about when you were touching yourself to me?"
Lucifer whimpered against you. "Anything but that! Please! I-I can't..."
You pulled your forehead away from his, still patting his hair. "I think it's a little too late to be shy now, my king."
A low moan escaped Lucifer's throat as he inched towards you once again. "I...I was thinking...about how wonderful you would taste on my tongue...." He pressed a kiss to your forehead. "I was thinking about how...how pretty your lips would look around my cock." A kiss to your left cheek. "I was thinking about watching you...fuck...watching you ride my cock until I have nothing left in me." A kiss to your right cheek. "But mostly...I was thinking about how badly I want you to be mine..."
Your lips met once more, and with even more vigor than before. His devilish tongue swiped against your bottom lip, begging to delve in further. When your lips parted, your tongues had clashed with such voracity that it had knocked you down onto you bed, Lucifer now completely overtaking you. His hand found the back of your head and pulled you closer into the kiss which you didn't even think possible. With his body completely flat on top of you and even through your robe, it didn't take long for you to notice a certain bulge pressing against your stomach. You chuckled lightly, causing Lucifer to pull away, knowing exactly what you had felt.
"Ha...sorry...my uhh, my body has a mind of its own," he laughed nervously. "If this is too much for you, w-we can slow down. Or just stop completely! It's...It's been a while for me a-and I don't want you to be uncomfortable..."
You placed your hand on his shoulder and gently guided him off of you, putting him on his knees. In an instant, you tossed your robe to the side, revealing your cute black nightgown that left very little to the imagination. Lucifer sucked in a breath as he frantically started shedding his own clothes as well, removing his jacket and dress shirt in a manner that really emphasized his desperation for you. You couldn't help but stare at his bare chest and how it almost glistened in the faint lighting of your room.
"Do you think you're the only one who's body is reacting to this?" You shoved him down gently onto his back, his head now resting against your pillows. "But instead of just telling you, why don't you see for yourself?" You crawled up his body, dragging yourself against home until you straddled his chest.
"Oh, fuck me..." Lucifer almost inaudibly. He snaked his hands up the skirt of your nightgown until his hands reached them hem of your panties. He looked up at you expectantly, and with a final nod from you, you felt him tug your underwear down your legs. He pulled them down slowly, lifting one leg out first and kicking them off with the other. You gazed at him seductively, your glistening entrance now mere inches away from waiting lips. Lucifer's hands grazed up your thighs before stopping just before where you needed him most. Lucifer's breath hitched.
"It's alright," you reassured him. "Touch me. Please, Lucifer..."
"Ahh, wait!" Lucifer stopped his movements entirely. With a quick snap of his fingers, you heard your door lock itself. "We don't want another incident now, do we?"
You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his theatrics, but it made you giggle, nonetheless. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're stalling!"
Lucifer laughed. "My sweet angel, if you've learned anything about me in last few minutes, it's that I couldn't wait another second longer for you even if I tried."
With those words, you felt his fingers finally find their way to your folds. It was like an electric shock had coursed through your entire body when he touched you. He'd barely begun and you were already soaking wet. His thumb found your clit instantly as he began to rub small circles around it, sending wave after wave of pleasure. You lifted your hips slightly so his figures could push their way inside of you. Words couldn't begin to describe how good he felt. He told you himself that it had been some time since he'd been with anyone, but there was no indication of this being the case as his two digits pumped in and out of you at a steady pace. He knew exactly what he was doing. You whimpered when you felt him pull his fingers out of you, only to watch him dip them into his mouth, cleaning off your slick entirely. "God, you're more delectable than I could have ever imagined! Please, let me taste you, all of you..."You blushed hard and nodded. You scooted yourself up further, hovering directly over his lips. "Still too far..." you heard him say before his hands latched onto your hips and forced you down so you were seated firmly on his face.
"L-Lucifer!" you cried weakly, trying to pull yourself up. You knew it was futile though. Damn him and his angelic strength.
"You won't hurt me, darling, I promise," he said with a wink. "Besides, breathing is overrated..." You felt his forked tongue immediately dart in and out of your drenched pussy. Your broken moans filled the room as he ate you out like it was his last meal. Lucifer switched between tongue fucking you and sucking on your sensitive nub at a relentless pace. That coil in your stomach was tightening with each movement he made.
"Lu-Luci-fer, o-oh my God, f-fuck, I-I can't." You tripped over every other word that left your lips. Your body started to tremble and your thighs shook violently as you felt your impending orgasm. "I-I'm gonna c-cum, gonna cum, oh SSHHHIIIIITTT-FUCKFUCKFUCK C-CUMMING!" You cried out helplessly as you felt your walls clench around nothing, your juices spilling out onto Lucifer's more than eager tongue. He rode you through your orgasm, lapping you up and not wanting to waste a single drop. You felt him release his hold on your hips so you could at last move back down to his chest. You stared at him wide eyed as he looked back at you with the biggest smile you've ever seen. You felt the heat rise up your neck and cheeks as you watched him lick up the rest of your release that hung on his chin.
"W-Wow, that was...fuck, that was amazing," Lucifer sighed. "Are you alright?"
"I-I'm fine," you breathed, "more than fine. You...really know how to use that tongue of yours." Lucifer flashed you a toothy grin like he had just told you the worst joke imaginable. You wanted to hide your face but damn it, he was too adorable when he looked at you like that!
"Well, you got your first wish. Allow me to grant your next one..." You shimmied down his body until your face lingered above the very obvious strain in his pants. "Let's make you more comfortable shall we?" You unhooked his belt in mere seconds, his pants following soon behind, leaving him in nothing but his briefs that already had a large wet spot in the front.
Lucifer managed to prop himself up on his forearms, his blush spreading to his entire face. "Sweetheart, y-you don't have to do that, I'm fiii-iiiiii-oooh fffffuck..." Lucifer's protest were cut short when you had brought your hand up to palm his very apparent erection through his shorts.
"Now that's hardly fair, Luci," you scolded him, "I think I deserve my fill too, don't you?" Before Lucifer could choke out an answer, you hooked your fingers along his waistband and pulled his briefs all the way down his legs, freeing his painfully hard cock at last. You stopped for a moment to marvel at his length, having to stop yourself from drooling. "O-oh wow, that's umm...that's big..."
Lucifer chuckled nervously above you. "Y-Yeah, sorry about that. I think? Like I said, y-you don't have to-GAAHHH!" Without warning, you delicately gripped Lucifer's shaft, stroking it lethargically. Even though you were moving as slow as possible, the king was already a moaning mess. "S-Shit, you-fuck...feels so good..."
"Is this what you imagined, your highness?" you cooed, now rubbing your cheek against his cock in tandem with your hand. "I wanted to help you out earlier, you know that? When I saw you stroking yourself, I almost pushed opened that door so I could give you what you really wanted. But hey, better late than never!" You chuckled lightly as you licked up his shaft to the very sensitive head of his cock. The taste of his precum was addicting, you craved more. Lucifer writhed under your touch as his whimpers became music to your ears. You circled your tongue around the tip, earning a guttural moan from the man beneath you. You glanced up and noticed Lucifer's eyes were squeezed tight, with his claws digging into your sheets.
"Look at me," you ordered him while you continued to pump his cock. His chest rose and fell faster and faster as he forced his eyes open. "Good boy. I want you to keep your eyes on me." You smiled at him wickedly as you parted your lips and sunk down on his shaft.
"A-AHHH, OOOH FUCK!," Lucifer yelped as he fought against throwing his head back in pure bliss. Your warm mouth enveloped him, the taste of him was nothing short of divine. Your head continue you bob up and down, taking as much of him as you could. Lucifer was a blabbering mess, only able to make incoherent noises. His ability to think had all but disappeared. All he could focus on was the immense pleasure your sinful tongue was providing. His breaths became shallow as your mouth lingered on his cock, refusing to move.
"I-I ca-FUCK...H-HOLY SHIT," Lucifer nearly screamed, his hips now bucking up uncontrollably, forcing you to take more and more of him. "CU-CUMMING, CUMMING...MMPH OHFUCKME!" With one final thrust, you felt his cock twitch, his hot seed filling your mouth. You sucked him off through his orgasm, taking in and swallowing every bit of cum he had. Once he'd finished, you finally let go with a small *pop*. You made your way up his body once more and hovered over his face with a giant grin. You opened your mouth to show him some cum you still had on your tongue before swallowing it down gleefully.
Lucifer's hands flew to his face immediately upon watching you. "I can't believe you just did that! How am I ever going to recover?!"
You laughed as you pulled his hands away from his face, leaning down to kiss him tenderly. He happily returned your kiss, his thumbs rubbing circles on your hips under your nightgown. Lucifer leaned his head back on the pillows and tugged at the hem. "May I?"
"Of course," you nodded. He helped raise your nightgown, lifting it up and easily tossing it over your head and onto the floor. You sat up straight, straddling his stomach and giving him a very nice view of your breasts. "I know you've already felt them once tonight, but I'll let you touch them again if you ask nicely."
"Oh, ha ha," Lucifer mocked playfully, "very funny. That was technically your fault! I didn't just lay on your chest for fun, you forced me there when you pulled me away from the fire!"
You smirked and took ahold of his wrists. "Do you want to touch my tits or not?"
"...Yes, please..."
Smiling, you brought his hands to your breasts. A soft hum emitted from both of you as Lucifer began to knead at your soft mounds, his thumbs running over your sensitive nipples. Suddenly, he started to roll them between his thumb and index fingers, causing you to squeak in surprise. He sat up quickly, pushing you back so that you were now kneeling on the bed and hovering over his thighs. He took one nipple into his mouth as he continued his ministrations on the other. You moaned at the sensation, taking your hand and holding the back of his head for support. He switched sides, making sure your other nipple got the same amount of attention. The feeling of his teeth grazing you nipple sent shivers down your spine.
"Luci," you whispered into his ear. "you had one more fantasy you told me about, did you not?" Lucifer pulled away from your breasts, his eyes wide and full of anxiety. You could feel his heartbeat racing as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.
"O-Only if you want to," his muffled voice reverberated off your skin.
"Yes, I do." You pushed Lucifer back down gently, noticing his cock was already hard again even without any further stimulation. "My, my, eager are we?"
"Very much so, yes," Lucifer whined.
"You're adorable, you know that?" you praised. Lucifer blushed hard and tried to cover his face once more before you pinned his hands above his head. "Don't you dare hide that pretty face from me, sweetheart. I want to see every single little cute expression you make once you're inside me." A small whimper left his mouth as you released your grip on his hands. You shifted yourself in order to line up your entrance with the tip of his cock, slowly rubbing it between your slick folds. "Are you ready?"
Lucifer gasped and threw his head back in response. "Y-Yes, please...need you...need to feel you..."
You began to sink down on his length, feeling him stretch you out beyond what you ever felt before. A beautiful mix of pain and pleasure coursed through you as you finally bottomed out on his cock, both of your moans echoing off the walls. Tears pricked your eyes as he filled you completely, as if you felt whole, now connected as one. You shifted your hips ever so slightly, but it was enough for Lucifer sit himself upwards and wrap his arms around you in a tight embrace.
"You really f-feel like heaven," Lucifer breathed. "P-Please...please say you'll be mine..."
A single tear drifted down your face, and your heart was threatening to burst out of your chest at any moment. You eagerly returned his embrace, wrapping your arms around him and bringing him as close to you as you possibly could. “I’m yours, Lucifer.” You cupped his face in your hands and brough your lips to his, sealing your promise. Feeling him twitch inside of you, you lifted your body off of him and gently sank back down. You swallowed Lucifer's moans as you continued your pace, bucking your hips and taking all of him with each sharp thrust. Lucifer's hands flew to your hips as he helped you up and down his aching cock.
"F-Fuck, y-you're killing me here, darling, I-HNNG...I'm close..." Lucifer sobbed was your pace became relentless. His hips were now rutting into you as he slammed you down onto him. Your eyes had crossed and drool began to pour down the side of your lips. You were absolutely and unashamedly cock drunk. The tightening in your stomach became almost unbearable, your release was fast approaching and so was his. "FFFFUUUUCCKK, g-gonna cum, g-gonna-ACK, c-can I?..."
"Inside L-Luci," you pleaded, "inside...fill me n-now-GAH F-FUCK, C-CUMMING!" Your walls clenched around his thick cock, pulsating relentlessly as Lucifer continued to pound into you making your vision blur. Your cries mixed with his as you felt him empty inside of you. The grip you had on him loosened as his wings suddenly sprouted out from behind him, catching you by surprise. Lucifer didn't seem to notice, too overtaken by his orgasm. He bit down on your shoulder harshly to keep himself from screaming while his hot seed continued to pour into you. Your muscles finally relaxed as you both came down from your highs. Lucifer's tongue lapped at the mark he had left on you, soothing the sore spot. But now that he'd given you your first mark, all you wanted to do was beg for more.
"S-Sorry about that," he smiled sheepishly. "I didn't mean to bite you so hard." He turned his head, finally noticing his ruffled wings. "O-Oh! Well...that's new."
You chuckled. "Your wings are beautiful, Lucifer." You ran your fingers over a few of his scarlet feathers; they were the softest things you've ever felt. His wing folded towards your touch, now almost fully engulfing the two of you. "Wait, are you apologizing for marking me? I'm yours, am I not? Now I have proof!"
Lucifer buried his face in your chest. "L-Love, you can't say things like that! You're gonna drive me insane!"
"Love?" you repeated.
He shot his head up in a panic. "I-uhh...is that okay?"
You kissed his lips tenderly. "It's more than okay, love."
You watched his wings puff up at your words, his smile wider than you've ever seen before. You then carefully pulled yourself from his lap and laid down ever so gently on his one set of wings while the other set wrapped around your body. Lucifer wrapped his arms around you once again, now feeling a double layer of protection and comfort.
"Thank you," he murmured against your ear.
"No, thank you," you whispered back. "It was wonderful, truly. And at least now I can stop worrying about whether or not you hate me!"
You heard a small hum leave Lucifer's lips. "That couldn't be further from the truth, my dearest." A placed a small peck to your forehead. "Do you...mind if I stay here tonight?"
You shook your head. "I wouldn't let you leave even if you wanted to," you teased. "You're mine now too." Fatigue flooded your body as you yawned and felt your eyelids fall. You snuggled your head against Lucifer's chest before unconsciousness had taken over.
"Forever," was the last thing you heard before drifting off to sleep in Lucifer's arms.
~~~
WHY THIS ENDED UP BEING SO LONG IS BEYOND ME, HOPE YOU LIKE IT ANYWAYS!
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Failure
part 3 of rivals
Jo gets called back to the senior team after a crushing defeat.
2,920 words
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“You should take a break, kid,” Alyssa said as she rolled the ball back toward me. I shook my head because that was the last thing I needed. I kicked the ball back up into my hands so that I could set up for another penalty attempt. “Come on, Jo. You don’t want to overwork yourself.”
“No! Hope was right, okay? She was right! I wasn’t good enough!” I snapped as I spiked the ball on the pitch. “My penalty was supposed to win it and I missed! It didn’t just get stopped either! I missed the goal! Why Jill called me back up after that, I don’t know. If I can’t show up in the final of a U-20 World Cup, then how can anyone trust me to show up for the World Cup next summer?”
Alyssa caught the ball as it went flying toward her as I kicked it once I finished my little rant.
“Okay, that’s enough!” Alyssa said as she moved out of the goal. I looked away from her as she marched toward me. “Losing is part of the game sometimes. No one is perfect and no one is gonna win every game. You’re allowed to be upset but we’ve been out here for hours now. This isn’t good for you.”
“What’s good for me is not choking during a final.”
“Jo-”
“No! I gotta be able to make these, Alyssa! And if I can’t trust myself, how can any of you trust me?”
I reached out to take the ball from Alyssa, but she threw it over her shoulder faster than I could grab it. I clenched my jaw before I moved to step past the goalie, but she grabbed the back of my shirt to tug me back in front of her.
“You’re done for the day.”
“I am not.”
“You are, Jo. You’ve been out here for hours. We already had practice today with the rest of the team,” Alyssa said as she shoved me back further from the penalty spot. “We’re going to go back to the hotel, and you’re going to take a hot shower and relax.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
Alyssa threw her hands up in the air as she scoffed. Alyssa shook her head before she started to drag me toward the locker room.
“I’m not giving you a choice. I’m not going to let you hurt yourself because you’re upset,” Alyssa said firmly. I rolled my eyes at that, but I didn’t fight back as she made sure that I headed to the locker room. “I’m sure Becky will read to you if you ask her to.”
I scoffed at that as the two of us entered the locker room to change out of our cleats and to grab our bags. Then Alyssa was guiding me outside to the van the team had left for us so that we could get back to the hotel. We both stayed quiet on the drive back and even on the elevator ride up to our rooms.
Jill still had me rooming with Becky. It must have sucked for Becky to still be stuck with me as her roommate for the third camp in a row. It was no secret that the others had gotten different roommates for each of the camps that I had been a part of. Maybe Jill would let me stay with Alyssa so that Becky could room with someone else, so she didn’t have to stay stuck with me.
Alyssa followed me as I walked down the hall to my room. I looked over my shoulder at her before she nodded at the door. I knew that she was probably going to talk to Becky while I took the shower, she was forcing me to take, but I had been hoping she wouldn’t walk me all the way in. I sighed but used my room key to unlock the door before heading in with Alyssa in tow. I dropped my bag at the foot of my bed as Becky looked up from her book at us.
“Hey,” Becky greeted us with a soft smile. “What all did you two get up to? Please don’t tell me the kid suckered you into taking her for ice cream. Dawn will be on all of our asses if we give her too many sweets.”
“Penalties. For three hours.” I didn’t miss how Becky’s eyes widened at Alyssa’s words. “Jo, you stink. Go shower.”
I huffed but I grabbed a clean change of clothes before pulling my shoes off to leave them in the room. Once I made it into the bathroom, I immediately turned on the water and let it run before I pressed my ear up against the wall to try and hear what Becky and Alyssa were talking about.
“She’s gonna run herself in the ground. Blames the entire loss at the U-20 World Cup on herself,” Alyssa’s muffled voice said as I strained to hear what she said.
“I would too if I was in her position. She’s the only one on the team that’s had any experience with the senior team that was on the team in Canada. Then to miss the game winning penalty? You’ve seen her in practice against Hope. If the best goalie in the world can’t stop her, then why would anyone think some goalie on a youth team would throw her off enough to get her to miss a penalty?”
I softly let my head hit the hall. She was right. I could have lived with myself if my shot had been on target, but my shot missed the entire net. I had eight feet of height and twenty-four feet of length to get the ball to go in and I couldn’t do that in what had been the biggest moment in my career so far.
“But none of us are perfect all the time. Jo’s going to overwork herself and get hurt if we don’t stop her. You should have seen her snap on the field today when I told her we were done. She’s got no confidence in herself.”
“And what do you suggest we do, Alyssa? All we can do is support her and help her through this.”
“We need to do something, and we need to do it fast. If we can’t, she’ll work herself into early retirement with injuries.”
I sighed before I moved to get into the shower. Hopefully, the hot water would help me start to relax.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Go back to sleep.”
I froze in my spot as I looked at the sleeping lump on the other bed. I waited for a moment hoping that it had just been Becky talking in her sleep.
“Jo, go back to sleep.”
This time Becky had said it while I was taking a step. I froze as I looked at her again. She wasn’t moving, but obviously she was awake enough to know that I hadn’t been planning on getting back in bed.
“I’m just going to the bathroom.”
A lie.
“No, you’re not,” Becky murmured as she moved part of her covers away from her so that I could see her glaring at me. “You don’t set an alarm to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night.”
I didn’t think about that. Becky wasn’t a heavy sleeper either, so, of course, my alarm woke her up. I should have thought about that because it was one of the first things I figured out about Becky after she got annoyed by the number of alarms I had set to wake me up the first morning we had roomed together.
“I have bad bladder control?”
Another lie.
One I was hoping that Becky would believe.
“Don’t lie to me.”
Or she wouldn’t.
I wondered if I really was just a bad liar since my parents barely ever paid attention to me anyway, that I never had to put in too much effort to my lies or if Becky really was just this good at telling when someone was lying.
“Is that your superpower?”
“Jo, I swear to God,” Becky groaned as I sat back down on my bed. “Go back to sleep before I have to climb into your bed and make you lay there at least until it’s an acceptable time for us to be up for breakfast.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
I furrowed my brow as Becky threw her covers off her. I didn’t have time to move either as she lunged at me. Becky’s arms wrapped me up into a hug as I tried to wiggle out of the grip. I wasn’t even sure how she had managed to get both of us under the covers within what felt like seconds, but she had.
“Stop struggling and just go back to sleep,” Becky said softly. I was effectively trapped because Becky wasn’t loosening her grip on me. “I will tell Dawn so she can give me stuff to drug you if I have to.”
We were both quiet for a few moments as I pondered over what Becky had just said.
“Would you really drug me?”
“Do you really want to find out?”
“Not really.”
I sighed as I relaxed in Becky’s arms. If she wasn’t going to let me go, I guess it would make sense to just give in. I would just have to figure out a different way to get my extra practice in.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I faltered in my steps as I headed for the ball bag so that I could continue practicing while the rest of the team left, but Christen was standing there with a ball already at her feet.
“Why don’t you show me that move you like so much?”
I had planned on asking Alyssa to practice penalties with me again. I furrowed my brow as I stopped the ball that Christen had passed to me.
The Christen Press wanted me to teach her something? I wasn’t even sure what she was asking me to teach her.
“The one that you used to score against Brazil? I noticed you used it quite a bit.”
“You mean a Hocus Pocus?”
“Yeah, that one.”
I slowly nodded my head. I was a bit surprised that she didn’t ask Tobin to help her. I mean, Tobin was the most skilled player in the history of the USSF, men or women. But I didn’t mind showing Christen.
“You know, you don’t have to be perfect.”
My steps stuttered as I shot the ball into the net at the end of the move. It seemed like everyone had been expressing that they didn’t expect me to be perfect. Which just made it worse.
“You don’t get it. I’m not supposed to be here. I’m only fifteen. I have to be perfect.”
“I might not have been getting called up to the senior team when I was fifteen, but I do remember what it was like to be one of the top prospects being looked at to join the senior team when I wasn’t that much older than you are,” Christen said. She passed the ball over to me before I fired it into the goal. “It’s a lot. I don’t think any of us expect you to be perfect. I don’t expect anyone else on this team to be perfect. We all have our strengths and weaknesses. But even the best of us have bad days.”
“But my bad day was on the biggest game of the tournament. How can anyone trust that I won’t have another bad day during the World Cup when every game is a big game?”
It especially didn’t help that as soon as I had gotten home, Elvis and Mick had been talking all about how I missed my penalty. Neither had ever touched a soccer ball, but they both were sure that they would have been able to at least place the ball on goal.
“I completely missed the goal. You know what I get to hear when I’m at home?” I asked. I didn’t wait for Christen to say anything to me. “Elvis and Mick saying that they could have at least placed it on target. They aren’t going to let me live it down. Not until they move out. I’ve got two more years of my own brothers doubting me. You didn’t even hear what they told our niece.”
I shook my head as I remembered how that had gone. My sister, Marley, and her husband had come to visit for the weekend after I got back from Canada. I had been showing Sky a couple of moves since she was the only one in the family really interested in soccer.
“Sky said she wanted to be like when she grew up and that made my day. Then Angus asked her, ‘What? A failure? Just skating by?’ Do you know what it’s like to have your own brother say that? The same brother I’ve always looked up to because if I didn’t want to go pro, I’d want to work for NASA like him.” I shook my head as I wiped at the sweat the was on my brow. “The people who are supposed to be my biggest supporters don’t believe in me. Why should anyone else?”
“Because we know soccer. You’ve got so much potential but that doesn’t mean you have to be perfect. It just means you get to grow,” Christen said as she stepped closer to put her hands on my shoulders. “We don’t expect you to be perfect. We expect you to grow. You wanna know how you grow? You have bad days. And we’ll be here for you to help you through them when you do have them. This team is a family. And we believe in you.”
“Even Hope?”
“Even Hope.” Christen sent me a soft smile as her hands dropped from my shoulders. “She only acts like that because you get under her skin.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I feel like you played much better today than you did in that U-20 Final,” Aly Wagner said as she stood next to me. I nodded in agreement with that. Becky had helped me prepare to field questions about the final in case it got brought up. “What’s it like coming back from that? You were so close to winning the U-20 World Cup.”
“I went to Canada believing that we were gonna bring it home with us and it was disappointing to lose it the way that we did, especially since it was my penalty that could have won it. It really sucks when you get the chance to practice your penalties against the best goalkeeper in the world but then you turn around and have a bad game during the biggest game of the tournament,” I said as I grinned when I caught Christen’s eye. She sent me a thumbs-up. “But that’s also the great thing about this team, because I was so wrapped up in my head about it that I was gonna get myself hurt and so many on this team were dedicated to helping me out.”
“How so?”
“Becky and Alyssa both have really been taking me under their wings,” I said as I spotted the two of them talking to each other with their eyes trained on me. I sent them a small wave. “I’ve been rooming with Becky since my first camp, so she’s really helped me out with making sure that I’m comfortable and checking in on me. She’s been making sure that I don’t get behind on my schoolwork even though it’s the beginning of the year.
“Alyssa’s been staying after practice regularly to help me get in some extra work. Hope’s been great with pushing my game to another level. I have to push it to that next level when I practice against the best goalie in the world, right? Christen has really helped to get me out of my head during this camp and remind me that even the best on this team have their off days and I’m still growing as a player so I shouldn't stress about it.”
“You’ve been putting in a lot of work with them?” Aly asked.
This was a tricky answer. The last thing I needed was saying the wrong thing and making it seem like the whole team was a bunch of assholes, but I didn’t need to straight up lie.
“I think everyone is still trying to get to know me better,” I admitted. It wasn’t like I was getting shunned by everyone on the team. “Like I said, Alyssa’s been staying after practice, so I have a goalie to go up against. Tobin and I just recently had a skills competition. I’ve got quite a way to go before I catch up to her. I got to teach Christen my favorite move recently. I’m hoping we’ll get to see her use it soon.”
“You have a favorite move?”
“Oh, for sure. I’ve always played with older players, so I’ve had to make sure that my skills were some of the best to keep up with them since I’ve never been the fastest or strongest on the pitch. I fell in love with a couple of moves so now they’re my bread and butter. You’ll just have to hope that I keep getting called up to see them.”
“Well, I certainly hope that we do see more of you in the near future. Thank you, Jo.”
#uswnt imagine#woso imagine#leah williamson imagine#uswnt x reader#woso x reader#leah williamson x reader#uswnt imagines#woso imagines#leah williamson imagines#uswnt#woso#leah williamson
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【 iv. the taste of flowers 】
summary: yuu was sick. okay, so maybe they overworked themself a little while preparing for the debutante, but that didn’t mean they needed to be on bed arrest ! what’s the worst that could happen if they snuck into the kitchen for a snack anyway ?
word count: 1.4k
author’s note: every time i write ruggie i’m like “wow i love this guy sm” and it was the same this time. i hope you like my rendition of him, ruggie likers ^^
[ the perfect debutante series | or read on ao3 (coming soon) ]
Being sick was most definitely not on Yuu's list of things to do for the Debutante. But they were. Sick. It seemed that they had over-exhausted themself after shopping all day with Floyd.
They vaguely remembered Floyd's guilty expression as he brought tea to their bedside. They had told him not to worry, but he seemed to be in low spirits for the rest of the day, according to Azul's report.
And now, well...
Yuu was sneaking into the kitchen.
After being cooped up in the room for so long, they needed some alone time. Alone time that didn't entail Riddle watching their every move like a hawk, or Silver insisting on doing everything for them. Their maids were diligent to a fault really, and Yuu was starting to feel a bit suffocated.
What they weren't expecting was that there would be someone in the kitchen. They stood behind the door. There was a soft humming and the smell of something that had their mouth-watering. Yuu cracked the door open a little. Through the gap, they spotted a pair of fluffy ears.
Ah. So it was Ruggie in the kitchen. Yuu calmed down a bit. The chance that they would be severely scolded for escaping the room had decreased. Still, they knew that someone would check their room soon, and they would get caught, so...
"Master?"
Holy crap. Their soul felt like it almost left their body.
They looked up to see Ruggie tilting his head, "I thought I heard someone, but I didn't expect it to be you, Master."
They got up from their crouched position, "Hi, uh... What are you cooking?"
"A little something for myself," Ruggie suddenly smirked, folding his arms. "What are you doing out of your room, Master? Riddle and Azul are going to freak out if they figure out you're gone."
Yuu stared at Ruggie with what they hoped was a pitiful look, "Please, I need 30 minutes of peace before they coddle me to death again."
"It's because they're worried about you. We all are," Ruggie said, going back to stirring the pot. "But I'm no snitch, shishishi~ Have a seat." There was a stool a little away from the stove, and from this close, they could finally see what Ruggie was cooking. It was...soup. A hearty-looking, vegetable soup, that was currently appealing to them with its scent.
"Are you here for some tea? Or are you hungry?" Ruggie sprinkled some more spices into his soup. "I could make you some soup?"
"What about that soup?" They blurted out. Dammit, they were trying to resist, and yet...
"This soup? It isn't worthy of Master's palette," Ruggie said before putting a lid on the small pot. "Plus, are you sure you wanna eat that?"
"What is it then?" The soup had looked normal enough to them, though they couldn't be sure. Ruggie was famed for using unconventional ingredients in his cooking before. They had heard many stories from Jamil, who found his experimentation interesting enough to talk about. (The other maid rarely talked too extensively, so Yuu had noted it in their mind when he did.)
"Erm," Ruggie's ears twitched, and he looked...almost bashful. "I used dandelions. I saw a few in the gardens and they needed to be weeded out anyway."
"Dandelions?" They cracked a smile. "So you can even cook with flowers?"
"You're not...?" Ruggie shook his head, before leaning his head back into his hands. "It's something my Bi— my grandmother taught me. There are many uses for dandelions, and she used to cook it for us in a soup."
Yuu understood it now. It had been a while since Ruggie had taken a break to go home. He tended to bulldoze through leave days that they set up by taking up other jobs. They ended up having him be their designated maid when the others went on leave. Ruggie was pleased with the setup, especially after they doubled his pay.
Money wasn't a worry to them, given that they were the heir of the Dukedom. But it had once been, back before Duke Crowley had adopted them. So they understood Ruggie's determination, especially with how fiercely he loved his family.
"Why don't you eat some?" Yuu leaned their face into their palm. "You spent all that time cooking it after all."
Ruggie's expression turned complicated for a moment. He hesitantly grabbed a bowl, ladling in a spoonful. His ears drooped for a moment before straightening. Yuu couldn't help but find the subconscious action adorable.
He finally sighed, sliding the bowl in front of them, "Here. Your puppy eyes really are unfair, Master."
"Puppy eyes?" They mumbled, but they couldn't focus on anything other than the soup that was in front of them. Ruggie pushed a spoon into their hands, and they couldn't help but immediately try it.
"Well?" Ruggie asked, ladling his own bowl. It was...amazing. The soup was salty, but rich, and all the vegetables were perfectly cooked— not too soft with a nice crunch.
And that was when Yuu abandoned two things: their etiquette training and their pride. It didn't matter that it was hot, they kept shoveling spoonfuls of soup into their mouth.
Ruggie laughed as he ate his own bowl, "Slow down there, Master. If the chefs see you they'll throw a tantrum because you're guzzling that down so fast."
"But," They sputtered, gesturing at their half finished bowl. "It's so good! I can't even tell which part the dandelion is!"
"The green leafy bits," Ruggie looked proud, if the way his grin kept growing was any indication. "I save the flowers to make tea with." The maid spun around, turning to a cupboard and grabbing what looked like a jar. In it were many dried dandelion buds. "Ah, I also have dandelion syrup," Ruggie gestured to another jar on the shelf. "Jamil taught me how to make them. They don't taste bad if I do say so myself, shishishi~"
Yuu couldn't help but laugh slightly. Ruggie's excitement about dandelion cuisine was very...adorable, if they wanted to put a word to it. "You seem very passionate about this," They said as they took the dandelion tea jar in their own hands. "Would it be okay if you put a few servings of this in my tea cabinet?"
"Huh?” Ruggie's ear flicked in surprise.
"Ah, I don't mean to take it away from you!" Yuu said, suddenly very aware that Ruggie was doing this because he was homesick. How stupid of them to ask for something so selfish. Did they forget everything after spending a few years in luxury? "I know that you're—"
"Forgive me for interrupting you, but it's not that," Grey eyes looked between the tea and their face. "It's... Thank you." There was something more behind the simple word of thanks. Yuu couldn't even begin to digest why Ruggie would say thank you at their selfish request, but seeing the smile on Ruggie's face reassured them that it wasn't anything negative.
That was when the door to the kitchen slid open, "Ruggie, would you happen to know where—"
Yuu looked up just in time to make eye contact with a surprised-looking Jade.
Oh. They were caught. Shit.
Jade smiled, ever the picture of politeness even as his aura turned more menacing, "How serendipitous. I was just looking for you, Master."
"They were just about to leave, right Master?" Ruggie said with a devilish grin. Gone was the sweet expression that just graced his face seconds before, instead replaced by this mischievous look— because he was clearly ratting them out! Yuu just hung their head. They would be scolded less if they left with Jade right away.
Jade kept an iron grip on them with just his gaze as they gave Ruggie a long hard look, "You're going on vacation after the debutante is over. With everyone else. That is a promise."
"But Master—"
"No buts! I'll give you paid leave!" Yuu said as Jade opened the door. "Just make sure to tell your family how much you miss them!" They relished the surprised look on Ruggie's face for a moment before following Jade out into the hallway. Yuu wasn't about to give Ruggie time to retaliate this time.
"Now that you've had your fun, you should return to the room before Azul and Riddle return," Jade chuckled. "They aren't back yet, but I am not above telling them of your...mm, adventures, if it came to it. Even if it's you, Master."
Their previous excitement waned at the thought of being bound to the bed again, "Let's just go now." And that was how Yuu's adventures to the kitchen ended, with surprises, some new cuisine, and a promise.
thank you for reading ^^ if you’d like to read more, check out my masterlist ! like the art ? look at more of dumple's works on insta !
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#/trau writes#live laugh love ruggie bucchi#ruggie bucchi#twisted wonderland#twst#ruggie bucchi x reader#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#twisted wonderland imagines
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i have a bit of a fun ask :) can u put ur spotify on shuffle and write a fic with vox based on the first song that plays? plz plz HAZEL PLZ
Please please please know I am still getting my sea legs with Vox! So don’t go
into this expecting my usual… uhhh skill? Confidence?
also testing the new tag list system
「Warnings/Promises: Val exists, Vox x Fem Reader, stalking, pastry decimation, casual sexism」
Stalker’s Tango
From the moment you stepped out of your home, he was eagerly watching.
The security doorbell camera on your porch let him see you wore black pants and a white blouse. Perfect. A white pocket square in his suit jacket pocket to complement. “Wonderful choice as always, babe.” He spoke softly to the screen; to you.
He followed every move, jumping with muscle memory speed from traffic camera to home security camera to shopwindow full of screens.
When you stopped to go into a bakery, he was there in the cctv cameras, fisheye view of your order of cold brew coffee and a croissant. “Impeccable taste.” A confident laugh between you two as he shot off a text to craft services, two words, ‘Croissants. Now.’
“Could you possibly warm that?” You asked the young man behind the counter.
Another text. ‘Heated.’
He watched you at the bus stop. A man sat beside you and smiled at you. You offered a kind smile back. “Who the fuck is that?” He zoomed in, taking a screenshot to send to Velvette, ‘Find socials for this pissant.’
When you stepped onto the bus he sighed, relief the man was no longer bothering you but also with a heart heavy. You didn’t belong on the bus. Why couldn’t he just buy you a car? No, better, He should send a driver to pick you up daily. A personal chauffeur. You shouldn’t have to bother yourself with driving.
No, he was thinking too small. You should live in the tower. Angel Dust used to, why couldn’t you? A moment of fantasy.
Perhaps he’d walk in to find you in your pajamas. What ever could they be? He searched your online shopping history and couldn’t find a single purchase for sleep wear. Your lack of home television and a computer limited him to only watching you from your stoop and beyond. He buckled, what if you didn’t wear anything to bed? Why didn’t you let him see you at night? What did he need to do for you to trust him in your home.
A knock at the door he didn’t acknowledge. His sole focus was you. A book? You minx. Always playing hard to get. He knew you got the e-reader he sent. He watched you take the package from the doorbell camera, after all.
“Sir,” a small and slightly pathetic voice spoken through the door, “I’m getting word from downstairs they’re not sure how to keep croissants warm in the studio.”
Another zoom, what were you reading? He’d have the author on Vox programming, sure to take photos like old chums for you to see on your bus stop bench ads.
Vox rose slowly from his chair, eyes on you as he backed away from his desk.
A change in routine. You cut through Jekyll Park. No cameras.
Vox hurried to the door, huffing as he flung it open, “Have you never heard of a warming lamp?”
“They don’t have any… normally they only offer cold items.”
“Fine then have,” he pointed at a random employee walking by, “that fucker stand there with a toaster oven”
The eel demon shrunk, “Well he works for us not for-.”
The screen that comprised his head filled with static, eyes a swirling rage of red and black, “He works for the Vees. He goes where we tell him.”
He slammed the door, taking a moment to recompose himself before turning to face you. He didn’t want you to see him like that.
Spinning back, charming smile cocked on his face, “Alright where are you?” He strolled up to the displays and returned to his seat, scanning around until he found you again. But he wasn’t finding you. He couldn’t do anything about the park’s lack of cameras, it was pentagram city property, or else he’d have staff in there within the hour. Normally not an issue though, you never cut through that way.
Sixty seconds. Where were you?
Ninety seconds. Where were you.
One hundred and eighty seconds. Where were you!
Vox’s chair fell over as he stood with a panic, hitting the speed dial for Security. As the phone was answered and he began to instruct them to the west entrance of the park, you emerged from the tree lined path and tossed your empty coffee cup and food bag into the recycling bins. You’d just slowed your walk to enjoy your breakfast with a pretty view.
“Nevermind, false alarm fellas.” A nervous chuckle as he pulled at his collar.
“Sir we’re not all me-.”
He hung up and leaned on the control panel. He should have sent a text. In fact maybe he still should.
Good Morning sinners! Reminder—- you’re only safe when you’re under the watchful eye of VoxTek Security Cameras.
A mass push text to every VoxTek phone in pentagram city. He watched you look at your phone and then up to the camera pointed directly at you from a light pole. A satisfied hum, “Good girl.”
As his view switched to the VeeTower camera system he danced into the elevator.
Vox’s foot impatiently tapped, staring directly into the eyes of the VoxTek employee holding the toaster oven in his hands. The fishy looking demon was squirming as the heat bled into the metal casing and burned his palms.
“Oh! I didn’t know I paid you to arrive late!” Val’s voice carried across the set.
You gripped the handles of your tote bag, “Val I’m sorry! The bus got a flat tire and I had to walk.”
A hiss as Val leaned down to get eye level with you, “Sluts lie as easily as they open their legs.”
“No, Val.” Vox interjected, tone stronger than he had intended, “She’s telling the truth. It was on the local traffic report. Cut her some slack.”
“I don’t watch that shit.” A sigh, exhaling pink aphrodisiac laced smoke into the air between you three, “Fine. If amorcito says so.” Val smiled to Vox before sending a sneer back to you, “Now fuck off to the dressing room.”
He walked away to shout at someone else, so you took the opportunity to say, “Thank you.” You offered a little head bow, grateful for back-up in your lie. Vox had already been trying to sneak off the set when you started speaking to him, causing him to sheepishly spin around on his heels. “I don’t think we’ve met before, but I see you all over the place. You’re Vox, right?” You extended a hand.
His screen flickered, blue background now with a gradient pink starting from the bottom, a blush rising up his face, “I see my reputation precedes me.” A false bravado as he gestured to himself. He moved the croissant to his right hand so he could shake yours.
“Well… your name and face is on everything. So, yes! I guess so.” You shook his hand, “Oh, I had a croissant too.”
He beamed, “Ya know what they say, great minds and all that. I was just having a little breakfast after reading. I hear they have some on set today in craft services.” You perked up, looking to the food table and the man holding the toaster oven.
“My lucky day! If only they had iced coffee. It would be perfect.” With a polite smile you took a step away, “I gotta go or Val will kill me. Nice to meet you!”
Vox stood still until you were out of sight. His hand crushed the pastry before he launched it across the room, mumbling about coffee before looking back longingly in the direction you’d left in, “See ya later babe.”
༻Masterlist༺
∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):
@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima a , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @rubyninja1 , @simphornies
, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , , @fizzled-phoenix , @phobophobular , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk , @bontensbabygirl
#vox x reader#hazbin hotel vox#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel fanfiction#hazbin hotel#fanfiction#vox#hazbin vox
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More | John Price x Fem! Reader
Summary: You’re stressed out of your mind and John knows exactly what you need to relax
Warnings: Explicit 18+, just sex, just porn little plot, you’re getting fucked from the back babes
Notes: Y’all this is literally a pattern. I’m ovulating… I’ve been reading a lot of 141 fanfiction and I just needed to write about my big man Price. Enjoy hottees
*this is unedited and probably doesn’t make any sense. Sorry not sorry*
————————————————————————
“Fuck John-” you mutter out. You can hardly hear yourself with how loud and filthy he’s fucking into you. Your brain fuzzy, all the contents of worry and stress slowly easing out of you with each thrust.
Your cheek pressed against the soft sheets of his bed, your hands placed on each side of you as your fingers softly curl into the linen. You back arched as your ass hits against his lower stomach and pelvis. His thick cock making your insides clench when he hits that certain spot. You don’t even notice the small amount of drool slipping out of your mouth onto the mattress.
“This is all you needed isn’t it? Just need me to fuck the stress out of that pretty head of yours. My sweet girl, fucking look at you.” John explains. You whine at his words, clenching at the way he calls you his sweet girl. You were, you were his good girl. His. His. His.
Hours before, you were stressed out of your mind with everything that had been happening. You couldn’t even imagine how John manages to handle everything with being Captain. The small amount of work compared to his big load made you feel like shit for complaining, stressing and crying over it to your lover. But you should’ve know better, because John Price would never think your stressors were lesser than his.
You were his world, his everything. If you asked him to jump, he would ask how high. If you need ice cream that was only made in Italy, he would be on the next flight out. If you need comfort from your stressors, he is going to give it to you. And he thought the best way to give it to you this time to fuck your brain dumb.
“It’s been a while since I’ve fucked you like this love.” The sound of his voice grounding you from your haze. His hands sliding against your ass, gripping softly before releasing. He wasn’t wrong. Usually, your sexual rendezvous were soft, intimate and saccharine. An intense love shared between you two after a long day on base. Slow and pleasurable that you loved all the same. But when the was time for this, you loved every minute of it.
“More.” you whine into the sheets. Your words were muffled, but you knew John heard you all the same. You feel his dick slow down inside of you, causing you to whimper, feeling the weight of John’s chest against your back. “You sure love?” he whispers against your ear. You push your ass against him, ushering him to move. Wiggling and making an effort to show him you wanted more. You hear him groan against your ear, peppering kisses down your neck.
“Yes sir. Please.”
The last bit of contact you got from him was a soft kiss against your shoulder before he got back into his position and started to ram into you. This time at a deafening pace than before.
You gasp at the sudden change of pace and cry out loudly. Fuck this feels so good. The way he pushes his thickness in and out of you so quickly. Making you feel winded, numb and so fucking blissful.
“Fucking love when you talk to me like that. My good fucking girl. You’re so good to me, letting me fuck you like this.” You feel your lips turn up into a small smile as you grip the sheets tightly into your hands. You knew your words would put him over the edge like this. He’s always calm and collected, always catering to your needs and wants. But sometimes, most times, you wanted him to let loose. To go all the way with you, and lose himself. He didn’t always need to be this perfect captain he tries so hard to be. He was perfect in every way to you. But you wanted him to make you his, to unwrap his fantasies on to you and let you take care of him.
His hands gripping your ass firmly, moving you so you can match his thrusts. He wasn’t stopping his rhythm. If anything he was going even faster, chasing his own pleasure as you simply take what he gives you. “Thank you sir- thank you, please don’t stop- please.”you cry out. You hear him chuckle at your words.
“Oh love, I’m just getting started.”
#captain john price x reader#john price imagine#john price x reader#john price cod#john price smut#captain price smut#captain price x reader#captain john price#captain price#call of duty modern warfare 2#cod fic#cod price#price smut#price mw2#price x reader#john price#captain jo
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tutoring
contains smut!! mdni
warnings: smut, giving head, fucking your professor, office sex, shitty writing ngl
pairing: alex blake x f!reader (professor x student dynamic)
summary: Alex Blake's star student needs some tutoring, which turns rather spicy
a/n: dont be afraid to reach out to me if you have any prompt/drabble suggestions, but i’m not sure when i’ll get to them since im really busy with school
read on ao3 or below the cut
For the entire year you’ve been nothing but the most perfect student. You got full marks, was never late, always turned assignments in on time, and you were actually nice to anyone who sat around you in class.
So it came to you as a surprise, when in your second year, your linguistics professor, dr. Alex Blake, told you that you might need some tutoring, so you could get ahead of everyone else in class. You had her last year as well, and to say you had a crush on her was an mild understatement. So to spend more one-on-one time with her… it was an offer too good to say no to.
It quickly became your favourite part of the week. Every Friday evening at 6:50pm, just after your last class, walking towards her office so you’d be there 7:00pm, and then leave with pain in your heart at 8:30pm, while every bone in your body was shouting at you to chat with her for just a little longer. Your ears dying to hear her voice just one more time before going to bed, your eyes wanting to look at her once more, your hands wanting to roam over her body, discovering every curve and freckle on her delicate skin.
This Friday was no different. Almost speeding down the corridors so you could get to her office a little early, so that you two could catch up just a little more before starting the tutoring.
Arriving there at 6:55, which is a record, you knocked at her door, waiting for her approval of coming inside.
“It’s open!” Her slightly raspy voice sounded muffled from where you were standing. But even that could make your knees weak. The things she would whisper in almost the same tone, just a tat more sulkier, as her hands roamed over your body, her strap made hard thrusts into your-
“Are you coming inside or not?” A voice shook you out of your daydream, as Alex Blake stood there in her doorframe, looking down at you.
“Oh yeah, uhm of course,” You franticly speak out, putting your entire linguistics education to shame.
You followed her inside, your eyes focused on her ass, I mean her walls filled with interesting books you couldn’t wait to dive into (same goes for her ass, but that’s just a tat… inappropriate).
The rest of the lesson went smoothly, as you put your feelings on the side line, and fully focussed on the things she was explaining to you.
The last couple of minutes you get a little side tracked, now talking about your hobbies, as her hand brushed past hers as you were explaining how sharks can’t get cavities and some sharks can glow in the dark.
When it finally gets to the time where you should leave, she walks you to the door. As you turn your back towards her, you hear her say; “You think I didn’t notice you staring at my ass and boobs all semester?”
Your face turns a bright red, as you slowly turn around. “Fuck,” You mutter under your breath. She walks closer, and closer to you, her hands eventually landing on her hips.
She looked down at you, her eyes filled with something that almost looked like… lust?
“Professor,” You mutter out, your hands still awkwardly on your sides. “Tell me you don’t want this, baby,” She whispers, her hot breath brushing over your ear as she moves closer to you.
“Please, I want this,” You whisper out, your voice raspy from desperation.
“Good, then it’s Alex or mommy for you, pretty girl,”
Just as those words left her lips, she pushed them on yours, absolutely taking your breath away. It was soft, but she was also so dominating. It was everything you’ve ever dreamt of, and more. Way, and way more.
Alex pushed you backwards until she has you pinned to the door, her hands now roaming close to the bottom of your sweater. Your hands moving to tangle into her brown hair that was framing her face. “You sure you want to do this, baby?” The professor said as she pulled away.
You desperately nod your head, as your hands attempt to pull her face closer again.
“No, darling, I have to have vocal consent,” her hands played with the bottom of your shirt. “I- please, Alex, I need you so bad, please mommy,” The moment she heard that last word leave your lips, she pushed her lips to yours again, sliding her tongue into your mouth, exploring every single centimetre that she could reach. Her hands slipped into your sweater, discovering every curve until she reached your breasts.
Her lips travelled south, softly biting your neck. “Gosh, you’re so gorgeous for me, baby,” her voice radiated a warmth through you, that ended up all the way into your pussy.
She bit into your skin, making you let out a soft moan. “Please, mommy, I need more,” You pant out, your hands pushing her head down. “Shhh baby, I’ll get there, I promise,”
Her teasing didn’t seem to end, leaving a countless amount of hickeys and bite marks all over your neck.
Finally, after what seemed both hours and seconds, her hands grasped onto the sweater. “Can I take this off?” The brunette looked into your half closed eyes, her eyes filled with nothing but love and need. “Yeah, please,” the words came harder than you ever could’ve expected.
Finally, she took off your shirt. She stood there, allowing herself to take in this moment, cause who knows when the next time will be when she can see you like this (which will most likely be next Friday, if not sooner).
Your needy hands pulled onto the rim of her shirt. “Off,” you murmured. All Alex just did was grant you a smile and the little nod that allowed you to pull the shirt over her head. Your eyes scanned over her body, desperate to remember absolutely everything about her. Every freckle, curve and ‘imperfection’ that was scattered over her skin.
“You done staring, baby?”
“Mm, you’re really pretty,” you whisper, as your hands wander over her exposed skin.
“Oh, well thank you baby.” She kissed the tip of your nose, making you let out a small giggle. “I think you’re really pretty as well.”
Her hands slide towards your ass, “Take them off, please,” You practically beg.
“Your wish is my command,”
She quickly pulled down your trousers and underwear, throwing it somewhere on the floor. The linguist picked you up with ease and carried you to her desk, where she put you on.
The brunette immediately dove into your pussy, eating you eat like it was your last meal. Her tongue lapping up your juices.
It was just embarrassing as to how close you already were. Your thighs were shaking, you back arching and your hands pushing her head impossibly closer to where you needed her the most. “Mommy, I’m so close, please,” You moan out.
“Are you coming inside or not?” A voice shook you out of your daydream, as Alex Blake stood there in her doorframe, looking down at you.
#alex blake x reader#ao3 writer#fanfic#ao3#criminal minds#smut#fanfiction#ao3 fanfic#wlw post#wlw ns/fw#mdni#18+ mdni
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Chapter 11: +I am not a glass doll+
Part of "Am I Fu**ing Insane !?!" A multi chapter adventure in Astarion’s mind
Rating: EXPLICIT ROUGH SEX (intercourse PIV)
CW: Blood, Sex
Word count count: 1.9k
Pairings: Astarion X OFC Tav
AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54356776/chapters/140917522
I have a quite serious praise kink. Which also means compliments in the forms of tags and/or comments might very well spur me to write and post more
** Thoughts "" Dialogue - - Remarks ++ Quotes / Memories
SUMMARY: In this chapter we simply finish the sex marathon we started 3 chapters ago -to jog your memory, she's on top, for the first time ever- Cause I imagine Pacing is of the essence for someone who's been around over two centuries like Astarion. If we had caring cuddly Astarion in the previous two chapters let's just say things get a fair bit rougher here... consider this your content warning for serious Rough stuff.
He has to close his eyes because, if along with the sensations her swaying hips are eliciting from his cock -strangled within her velvety warmth-, he also lets the vision of her soft, perfect body reach him, as it makes languid, serpentine circuits with her back arched and breast exposed as she impales herself repeatedly over him, that alone might make him come undone.
Her movements are excruciatingly slow, as if every inch of him has to be felt and pressed upon, as if her centre is gauging every sensitive spot on his cock and after a moment of attentive reactions she keeps learning and repeating exactly those that are driving him the most insane with pleasure.
His hands still gripping on her hips, though without any pressure or conviction, only to have his fingers full with the grasp of her softness.
*there’s absolutely nothing I can teach her…*
His head rolls back and he doesn’t even realise he must have arched his back enough so that now he hits a new, deeper spot inside of her and a louder gasp breaks through her throat as her movements halt with his cock completely buried inside of her. His eyes shoot open to find her biting her lip.
“Are you alright? Just… let me stay still for a moment… get used to me… we don’t need to ru–”
The words die in his throat with a groan ending his sentence as her hips have resumed their undulation, slow yet hitting harder and deeper every time she presses herself flush against his crotch.
“Do you want me to stop?”
She breathes every word as her rhythm remains unaffected. She suddenly lets him pull out almost completely and his instincts have his fingers dig deeper in her hips to keep her close
“No… please.. I was… just worried… about you”
“Stop worrying about me Astarion, I’m not a glass doll”
There is something incredibly enticing about the way she chose her words, though before he can spend any longer on them, her entire body is overhanging above him. Her hands reach to the headboard of the bed as she’s got him completely trapped between herself and the mattress beneath him. Her soft, perfumed locks caressing his shoulders are the last thing he registers as suddenly this new angle makes a scream of pleasure escape his lips. Though her own lips capture his immediately and now both their moans are just filling each other’s mouths.
This is a new kind of kiss, ravenous, she’s not just kissing him she is…
*biting!*
Her teeth are pulling at his bottom lip and yet in a flash her tongue is pressing harder against his own. Teeth clashing against his and for a moment he still tries to focus on covering his own fangs with his lips for fear of hurting her. But that’s when her words resonate and unlock something in his body
+I am not a glass doll+
A hand quickly moves across her back to press at the nape of her neck, pulling her closer still, the other one reaching for the small of her back as his own hips arch against hers, his cock buried deep inside of her, reaching surely an impossible depth for a human. He might think about how sore this will make her feel later but those thoughts have all but left his mind, finally beautifully empty for once, and all he knows is what his body feels.
Her incredibly tight cunt throttling every inch, every spot, of his insanely hard cock, every beat of her pulse reverberating around it and rippling across his crotch and dispersing around his body.
Her thighs locking his hips in place, pressing harder and harder against his bones and a fleeting thought carrying the desire to hear himself crunch, crushed by her grip, almost tips him over the edge.
Her teeth biting down on his lips without restrain as her kiss gets rougher against his mouth and her hips movements are beginning to match that raw need until she angles herself just right and another moan makes him almost roll his head back. When he does, her teeth don't relent and that's when her bite on his lip finally draws blood.
As the metallic flavour hits his senses everything turns to a blur. The pressure around his cock drives him mad and in a split second he’s grabbed her arms and reversed their positions, flipping her on her back as his hips now pound into her impossibly wet and engorged sex. Her measured slow movements are forgotten, replaced by sudden, hard thrusts that make him want to go deeper, and deeper until there’s nothing left of her to discover, to feel, to taste.
One hand grabs at her wrists and pins them above her head, holding them in place in a rock hard grip, as the other reaches to her thigh, pulling her leg up to curl around his own waist
*Deeper… deeper… deeper*
Her sighs and moans have left room to screams and heaving, and he can tell her own hips are trying to meet his thrusts best as she can in this position. He arches his back so that his mouth can devour hers again and this time there’s nothing resembling concern about his fangs, as they go directly to graze at her lip, nipping just enough to draw her own blood now wetting his lips
*We’re even now, you minx!*
His mouth latches onto her lower lip, sucking on it to draw more of her ambrosia as his hips keep pounding into her relentlessly. Even as little of her blood as this scratch allows him to take in is sending his entire body into a frenzy. His movements scattered and impossibly fast, thrusting in and out of her swollen cunt and he only realises how far he’s taken things when suddenly he feels her clenching around him, the feeling almost as if his own cock is to be strangled and torn apart from his body. The leg draped around his hips pressing into his backside as to pulling him closer *deeper* inside of her whilst her entire body convulses in spasm. Their lips separate only because, in a jolt of pleasure, her head rolls back letting out his name in a scream.
With his mouth now on her neck, he can’t even remember that’s exactly the spot he fed from just hours before, but the freshness of the wound must be what pokes at his instinct when in a moment his fangs tear at it as his mouth captures her pierced skin and finally he can swallow mouthfuls of the heavenly liquid she carries in her veins.
The flavour of her coating his tongue, just as the spasms of her climax still choke his cock, are the last thing he can grasp onto with any lucidity as his eyes roll in the back of his skull. He’s senselessly thrusting harder and harder into her that if any semblance of reason had been left in his brain he’d know he’s bruising her, but no notion other than chasing that absolutely idyllic promise of untainted pleasure is driving his rough motions now.
He can feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge as the random clenching from her last climactic twitches are tantalising his cock. His fangs instinctively pressing harder onto her flesh as to getting still *deeper* into her is the only vagrancy he can still follow, in every direction, be it flesh or sex.
His focus is such that it’s not until the tip of her tongue barely caresses the outer shell of his pointy ear that he realises she’s back in control of her movements after her climax. The feeling of her soft bite on his earlobe a moment later, on such a sensitive part of his body, is the gate to perdition and with a final thrust he pushes everything he has into her. A white light explodes in his mind as his own orgasm takes control of every jolt and involuntary reaction of his pale, tensed body.
Sparks are inundating his vision and his physical brain, some ecstatic and some as if pure radiant damage is dispersing across his every thought. Any flash and image that ever existed in his mind is simply flooded with the bright, gleaming pleasure that began in his cock and is now dispersing across his skin through the entirety of his body. His hips pressing flush against hers buried as deep as her fragile form allows, an animal marking his territory with his own seed filling her insides.
His skin still tingles from the aftermath of his pleasure when his brain slowly sinks back into his body and feels hers pressed against his as his mouth is still full of her blood springing from her neck
His lips keep latched onto her still, though his blood drawing has stopped, his tongue freely caressing her skin and gently soothing the wound in an attempt to close it again.
Every shallow exhale that leaves her lips still carries a soft moan. As he leaves a kiss on the closed punctures and moves to his elbows to leave her space to breathe he realises his hand is still holding her wrists down in a rock hard grip so tense he almost can't feel his own fingers.
He drops his grasp and his fingertips go to caress her forehead, her cheeks, swiping her hair aside.
“You were definitely worth the wait, my sweet… you are perfect… are you alright? Was that… too much?”
With her hands free he feels her fingers run through his own hair now, a soft hum resonating through her chest as her swollen lips, still crimson tinted, pull into a smile, her head shakes slightly before she gently speaks
“Definitely not… I don't think I could ever have enough of you… but now I know my dreams never did you any justice…”
At that he can feel the corner of his own lips pulling, the delicious stinging of his lower lip a delightful reminder of how savage her desire for him was, and that settles his mind upon the only sensation her lovely expression brings to him: bliss.
After placing a soft kiss on her lips he slowly pulls his softening cock out and a unique kind of satisfaction fills him as her body still twitches, a soft sigh exhaled with what sounds like quiet laughter, and as he rolls on his back he pulls her to his chest and he can feel immediately her arm circling to reach his shoulder, her naked leg draping possessively over his.
“You’ll have to tell me more about those dreams my darling… after all… there's nothing you desire that I'm not willing to give…”
His voice leaves the question hanging suggestively and he feels her face pressing, hiding against his chest so that the arm circling her pulls her closer as a soft laugh resonates from his lips. Her soft murmurs let him know he's not going to get that answer now as the tip of her cold nose is now pressed against his own unusually warmer skin. Her breathing is regular and slowing enough that the rhythm lulls his own senses into actual, restful, sleep.
For the first time in his entire existence.
#astarion#baldurs gate astarion#bg3 astarion#astarion fanfic#astarion x oc#astarion x reader#ao3 fanfic#astarion x tav#bg 3#astarion ancunin#astarion angst#bg 3 fanfic#astarion bg3#baldur's gate astarion#astarion smut#bg3#baldur's gate smut#tav x astarion#astarion fic#astarion fanfiction#astarion fluff#bg3 smut#astarion romance#astarion pov#soft dom#soft dom astarion#dom astarion
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No one is born knowing how to communicate
A: And that's okay...
Dr Kuseno made it look so easy. He just swanned into Saitama's apartment, proferred him a gift of beef and the hero's hostility melted away.
Fubuki felt positively foolish, and yet encouraged.
Since then, however, she's found that the only thing meat bribes pull in are dogs. Literal dogs:
And even dogs need more than meat to be loyal.
What gives? Well, it's obvious that Fubuki mistook Dr Kuseno's gift for a bribe: more on that later. Probably. And yeah, it's funny, but it's more interesting than that.
Learning how to communicate is complex. There are a ludicrous number of unspoken conventions and rules in every human society, so much so that we don't fully learn how to smile socially until we're in our forties. Dr Kuseno carefully judged his gift: he had a legitimate reason to offer Saitama a gift in the first place, out of gratitude for Saitama going out of his way to mentor Genos. Then he chose a gift Saitama would be sure to appreciate and presented it at a time when Saitama would be thinking about dinner. The worst that could have happened is that Saitama took the gift but insisted on the doctor going home (and taking Genos with him) -- it would still have left the desired positive impression. And things went really well. Kuseno made it look effortless.
Fubuki is only in her early twenties and her experience to date has been far from typical. She's learned that either she can intimidate people or she can flatter them into doing what she wants. With Saitama (and later Bang, Bomb, and Kuseno), she has to learn how to talk to more powerful people whom she cannot overpower, over whom she has no leverage, and who are unimpressed by her looks, simpering, or flattery.
Fortunately, Fubuki is nothing if not astute. She's worked out that she needs to develop complementary skills if she's to make herself useful to the S-Class heroes she wants to hang with. How to talk to them to get the help and cooperation she desires? Ah, that's a work in progress.
B: ...Unless it's not
Let's move onto another miscommunication.
Something that I hadn't before was that, unlike the webcomic version where Saitama only thinks to himself that Genos seems depressed, in the manga, Saitama out and out asks him if this is the case. He wants to know.
It mirrors King asking Saitama that very same question and getting Saitama to open up and be vulnerable for the first time (ever, in any version of the story). So it is very appropriate to see Saitama trying to do the same for Genos, particularly as he is openly fond of the guy.
However, it goes wrong. Saitama feels himself under pressure to say something wise to make it better. So he puts on his best 'confident' face and inadvertently makes everything much worse. Oh dear. What makes this particularly painful in the manga is that Saitama is much more invested in trying to reach Genos, and it's made Genos think that Saitama saying that he doesn't see what he's doing must mean that earlier times when he's praised him must have been just Saitama being nice. For sure, Genos could have pushed back and made Saitama clarify what he meant, but he's even worse at communicating: and Saitama's glib remark about being bright struck him square in the insecurities.
I'm going to come to something that I only realised once I started typing this up. Even though I've pointed out their abilities to communicate, neither King nor Kuseno have the perfect words to say. Kuseno started out by first committing a faux pas in bringing his great big outside boots into Saitama's flat, then nearly boring Saitama to death with a long-winded explanation. King started out by trying to guess what was bothering Saitama. Both, however, did the most important thing about effective communication: they picked up on their going wrong and changed tack.
It's not about saying the right thing: it's about responding to the person you're talking to.
The thing that King did that Saitama was trying to do for Genos was to ask Saitama open questions, and shut up in the interim, letting Saitama talk to fill in the silence. He'd only speak to ask more open questions when Saitama ran out of things to say, and through that, gently started to challenge Saitama's thinking.
But doing so means being comfortable with several seconds of silence. And that is excruciating. It is almost irresistible to jump in and say something, anything. And it would have been a longish wait, for Genos to slowly sit down and decide to start speaking, which might well have started being about something only tangentially related to his worry. King did that for Saitama: Saitama started out talking about what was bothering him on the surface -- being too strong -- before eventually coming to what was really bothering him, feeling lonely and profoundly isolated from everyone around him. Saitama does not yet know how to wait a person out.
It's a problem in this case because it's introduced a big barrier between those two, not an insurmountable one for sure, but one that could easily compound later.
Ah well, no one is born a communicator. We just have to wait and see if they work out a way to open up and be honest with each other. So it goes! There's more ways to introduce conflicts than to have a monster trample Tokyo, after all!
And so help me, the struggle to learn how to communicate is 1000% worthwhile.
#OPM#meta#Saitama#Genos#Dr Kuseno#Fubuki#King#communication is hard work#I love how well ONE brings across some of its subtleties#the pressure we put ourselves under to stay the 'right thing' when listening and openly receiving what we're hearing is more important#the true struggles for the characters are rarely monsters#but rather lie within themselves and between the people they want to understand#damn that's a little too IRL for comfort#ah well no one is born knowing how -- let's all struggle forward to do better!
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it feels cosmically unfair that i think about writing all the time want to write all the time and sit down to write all the time and i come up with two sentences at best. there should be some reward system i think
#RAAAAAAAAAA#the thing is i know why i'm stuck it's because i get overly wrapped up in meaningless details of word choice and sentence structure#and i need every word to be perfect before i can move on to the next and that just creates an interminable cycle of being so slow to#progress i feel like even more like a failure and imperfect and respond by being even more intense about it#in spite of the fact that almost no reader is going to look at my work and go hey nice i noticed you used a word with an aesthetically#pleasing number of letters here as opposed to a word ending in t which would have ruined the flow and disgusted me forever#but it's not about the readers i'm the one who reads it and gets disgusted forever#and i know this does not matter but it feels like there is no conceivable way i could write something without it being perfect first try#fucking hilariously i edited the tags of this post for a good ten minutes because the spacing of the words was bothering me so i had to#find words with different lengths as replacements#RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA#anyway i'm doing wonderfully#this is about soulmate au i think maybe because it's so important to me i'm especially perfectionistic over it right now#brain can you stop it i'm on my hands and knees#also t is the worst letter invented hands down. no question.
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imagine being fwbs with gojo n in the middle of folding you like a lawn chair he noses at your cheek n goes “hey do u wanna be my girlfriend?”
✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ BEST OF THE BEST — GOJO SATORU.
contents. fwb! satoru, fem! reader, minors do not interact, unprotected sex, mating press, creampie, non canon compliant (suguru and shoko are ur friend group >:( tyvm), very cheesy ending my b, yes i made a reference to this is where you’re weak, right? sue me, petnames (sweetheart, sweet girl, princess, baby)
“bet you were waitin’ for this all day, huh sweetheart?” satoru always has a way with words—a very unique, special, and irritating way with words that routinely manages to get under your skin.
you would scoff—in fact, you would call him quite a colorful variation of words if his thick cock wasn’t pressing comfortably against your sweet spot.
so instead, you gasp a quiet, “f-fuck—right there.”
“yeah, i know,” he chuckles, “this is where you need me, huh? where you’re weak?”
you can’t do anything but whimper at that, hands wrapped tightly around him as they claw into his shoulder. he always wears the marks you leave like a good sport too—shows up to the gym in a tank top that shows them off good and well, right for suguru to see them clear as day. you almost block satoru right on the spot when he sends you a selfie in the mirror, showing off the angry marks with a wink following.
it’s a bit of a predicament, fucking your high school friend and not letting anyone know. the idea of shoko and suguru finding out that every other night, satoru is in your bed as his cum leaks out of your abused cunt is enough to make you nauseous—but never nauseous enough not to open the door for him.
the most unfortunate fact you’ve learned in your life is that satoru knows how to fuck—in fact, he knows how to fuck you well enough that you let him come back. it’s a bit shameful, really, the way you let him knock on your door, the way you open it and let him in, the way you actually fuck him and let him sleep in your bed until the morning.
and then (because he’s an asshole) he wakes up, gives you a sly wink, and murmurs i’ll be back soon, yeah? keep that bed warm for me, sweetheart.
“c-close, toru—‘m gonna….gonna—”
“gonna what? cum? already? barely even fucked you yet,” he hums, hooking your leg over his shoulder before all but pressing you in half. you mewl at the way his tip brushes past your folds and splits you in half—deeper this time with the new position. “look at that,” he coos, staring down at the way his cock slips in and out of you, “takin’ me so well, sweet girl. i think you can go a bit longer, don’t you?”
“m-more, more—need—”
“i know, i know,” he grins, “need me to fuck you dumb, don’t you? don’t worry, princess. i’ll give you more.”
his hips snap into you, pelvis rocking against yours as his pre cum and your slick mix, making a mess between your bodies as it coats your skin. you gasp, pulling satoru closer as his head falls to tuck into your shoulder, his labored breaths fanning against the shell of your ear.
“‘s good,” you whine, “f-feels good, toru.”
“yeah? feel that? squeezin’ me so tight, i can barely move,” he groans, letting out a sweet, low sound into your ear that has your spine shivering—you think you could come undone from that, from the sounds he makes as your walls flutter around him.
you think everything about satoru is enough to send you over the edge, from the sound of his voice to that pretty face of his when he spills into you.
you know he’s close—you can feel the slight twitch of his cock as his pace gets sloppier, as his thumb finds your clit and rubs desperate circles into the sensitive nerves, as he practically presses your knees to your shoulders and bullies his throbbing cock deep into your dripping cunt. and you’re close too, head spinning as your eyes flutter shut and your lips part with a broken wail.
“c-close—‘gonna cum, toru,” you gasp, voice coming in labored pants as his breath hitches.
you look perfect like this—like you’re his, like your body was made for him to touch in sinful ways, like it was his cock that was always supposed to fit into you and make you fall apart. his hand grabs yours, and without thinking, both of your fingers interlace.
“baby,” he hums, his nose pressing into your cheek as he kisses the skin softly, “‘m gonna make you mine, yeah? wanna be my girlfriend? my sweet girl? you want it, right?”
you should be shocked—you should stop and ask him what he means, what he’s playing at, what he thinks he’s doing toying with your mind.
instead, you gasp, pulling him closer as your walls spasm around him, back arching and eyes rolling back as the coil in your belly snaps and you cum. hard. harder than he’s ever made you before. does the idea of being his really do that to you? does the idea of being his sweet, precious girl outside of your bed at night really send you hurdling over the edge like that?
evidently, it does—and your high sends him right into his own. like he needs you to fall apart so he can too, like the way he knows you feel good makes him feel good too. maybe he does want you, maybe it’s not a sick joke. the way his voice cracks with a strained call of your name certainly says as much—the way his hand tightens its grip on yours, the way his hips rut desperately as he presses impossibly closer, the way he presses hot, scattered kisses along your cheek and jaw as he groans through his release.
it’s messy. it’s filthy. it’s downright dirty the way satoru fucks his cum into you, letting it drip down your thighs and mark your skin—but it feels like being his.
you think you might want that.
he’s gentle when he finishes—carefully unhooks your legs from his shoulders before running a hand along your thigh and squeezing as he observes the cum dripping between your legs. you huff when he collapses over you, glaring at him as his weight presses onto your form.
“you’re heavy,” you grunt, smacking at his shoulder.
he hums, nose pressing to your jaw as he kisses it. “not moving till you answer me.”
“satoru, don’t joke about—”
“how rude,” he gasps, “you think i would joke while i’m balls deep in—”
“oh my god,” you groan, covering your face with your hands, “please stop talking.”
he grins, chuckling as he shuffles up to bury his face into your neck, pressing a gentle kiss to the skin. “you don’t wanna be my girlfriend? that’s gonna hurt my feelings, y’know.”
satoru has always been like that, wearing an easy grin and plastering that playfulness on like a second skin. you can hear it though—the slight unease in his voice. you can’t fathom letting everyone know that sometimes, you let satoru fuck you…but maybe knowing that sometimes, you hold hands, and maybe kiss, and perhaps snuggle on the couch, and potentially even share a bed to sleep, not just fuck, but sleep—maybe they can know that.
that doesn’t sound so bad.
“that depends,” you hum, pretending to think, “how good at being a boyfriend are you?”
“excellent,” he plays along, “best of the best.”
“that’s just big talk. you could be lying for all i know,” you point out—but your fingers slip into his hair, twirling the sweaty strands along your fingers.
“well, you’ll just have to let me prove i’m a good boyfriend—so that means i have to be your boyfriend. sorry, it’s the only way.”
if satoru hears the giggle you try to hide as you sigh exaggeratedly, he doesn’t mention it, lips pulling into a giddy smile as he pulls his head out of your neck and presses his forehead to yours. your hands cup his cheeks, squeezing gently.
“i guess if this is the only way,” you shake your head theatrically, “you can be my boyfriend. for now.”
“i’m grateful,” he snorts—and then there’s a peck to your lips. one, two, three gentle kisses before he presses a lingering one. it’s sweet, and slow, and just a bit needy as he presses deeper into you. “now i can tell suguru the scratches on my back are yours. he’s been asking a lot.”
leave it to satoru to speak and ruin the moment just by opening his mouth.
“satoru,” you hiss, throwing him a sharp look, “i think you’d be a better boyfriend when your mouth is shut.”
“then i can’t kiss you,” he gasps, “that’s the best part of being my girlfriend.”
and just to prove it, he kisses you again—and maybe, although you hate to admit it, he’s right. it is the best part.
i wanna be his girlfriend :(
#thirstee!#teepods.writings#thirsts.#gojo x reader#gojo x y/n#gojo x you#gojo smut#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk smut#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x you
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˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ 🦢 calling jjk men “daddy” for the first time (part one (?)) — gojo + toji
navigation masterlists
‧₊˚c/w. daddy kink (who woulda thunk), gojo pet names (baby, babe), cowgirl w gojo, dom!gojo, toji uses “slut” once, doggy w toji (w some belly bulge cuz i can’t help myself), dom!toji, fem!reader, afab!reader, reader not addressed using pronouns
‧₊˚notes. wanna write this w nanami and geto next!!
༉‧₊˚. gojo
his lazy ass has you doing all the work. your thighs are aching from trying to go faster on top of him, chasing that high that you need so bad right now.
and satoru’s doing nothing but watching you struggle, hands resting behind his head. he has that stupid fucking smirk plastered on his pink lips and, god, you hate to admit it, but it makes that feeling in your core even stronger.
“toru..” you whine through gritted teeth, splaying your hands out on his chest, opting to grind yourself on his cock instead. your clit rubs against his pubes, eliciting a moan from your throat.
“wha’s wrong, baby?” his hand move to lightly trace over your hips. you pray he’ll grip them and fuck up into you, but to no avail. before you can even beg for it he’s taking his hands back to their original position.
those blue eyes are piercing, you swear they can see into you—every part of you, beyond the physical. he knows what you want, he just won’t give it and it’s driving you to desperate measures.
“need help,” you sigh, leaning over him, your chest against his, deeply fucking his cock in and out of you upon slightly regaining your stamina. “please, daddy, need t’get fucked.”
not even you know where that came from, much less does satoru.
but you didn’t stop your movements on his cock and you knew you hadn’t made a mistake when you watched his eyes roll back and felt him twitch inside you <3
“fuck, babe, say that again,” his voice is whiny and breathy now, his brows furrowing upward.
he looked so needy. from one word.
“please, daddy..”
and before you know it, his heels dig into the mattress and he holds your hips in place, pumping you full over and over, pulling the air from your lungs, just like you needed.
“gonna make you—haah, fuck—cum all over this dick, baby.”
༉‧₊˚. toji
he had you in doggy, one hand holding your head down into the pillow while his other was wrapped around your waist, squeezing and pushing the soft fat of your belly, feeling his cock bulge from inside of you.
you were already fucked practically out of your mind—the only words you knew anymore were varying moans of toji’s name.
and when his dick hit you at that perfect angle paired with how his heavy balls were slapping against your clit, you swear you could’ve broken.
“tojiii, s’good right there—oh my god,” your voice was muffled by the pillows under you, masking the cry your throat lets loose when he quickens his pace.
“yeah, that cock’s fuckin’ you right, huh, slut?” his brows are furrowed and his breathing is rapid.
he lets go of your hair so that he can hold your hips and ram you onto him even harder—if that was even possible—but you don’t have the willpower to lift your face from the pillows.
“daddyyy, don’t st—op,” your hands form fists in the sheets now, searching for some way to remain lucid under the brute of the man that is toji fushiguro.
so much so, that you don’t even realize what you just said until he snickers behind you.
“so fuckin’ dirty,” a groan climbs past his lips when you clench around him, “wan’me to be yer’ daddy? yeah?”
you can only respond in strangled moans, but toji doesn’t seem to mind!
“gonna get you addicted to daddy’s cock.”
© anitaheartsu
#anitaheartsu#jjk smut#toji smut#toji fushigro x reader#toji fushiguro smut#toji x reader#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#gojo smut#jjk x reader
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𝝑𝑒 synopsis. after being married to satoru for two years, you still giggle and (secretly but not so secretly) fangirl about him whenever given the chance. your husband absolutely loves indulging you.
tags. husband!gojo satoru x wife!female reader. fluff, sfw, tiny bits of angst. tooth rotting fluff yeah. reader gets called ‘princess, baby’. inspired by this ask.
“and and and, his smile ‘s just so beautiful,” you sigh dreamily, resting your head on satoru’s lap. you’re both enjoying the cozy night in your shared apartment. with no one bothering you—with no regards for the world that’s continuing its cycle outside.
satoru chuckles as he pats your head slowly, taking his time to appreciate every feature of yours. from your pink-ish lips to your pretty eyes. he’s so in love with the creation god has gifted him. he nods attentively, “yeah? what else?”
you giggle as he indulges you. it’s a habit of yours, to fangirl over your husband like you’re not literally his wife. satoru finds it absolutely adorable. plus, it boosts his ego. in a very good way.
“aaaand, he’s caring. that’s the one thing i love most about him,” you continue to ramble about your little ‘crush’ on that so-called mysterious white-haired sorcerer. satoru wishes he could capture this moment and keep repeating it over and over in his head.
the way you talk about your crush - him - is filling his stomach with butterflies. the tall man can’t deny the faint blush on his cheeks and the fuzzy feeling in his chest. you keep getting cuter and cuter the more time passes.
when he thinks you’ve reached a state of perfection in his eyes, you once again prove him wrong and go beyond that. “caring, hm? he must treat my princess real good then,” satoru hums and continues petting your head. his other hand rubs your stomach—fingers creeping under the material of your nightgown.
“he does,” you nod in agreement, “he treats me so well. i don’t know how i got so lucky to have met him.” you squirm a little as you feel satoru’s slender fingers graze your midriff, going back down to your belly and then back up your chest again. his touch is so intimate and loving. you’re spoiled. spoiled rotten by his affection.
satoru sighs. his white lashes flutter shut for a second. hearing you say such stuff makes him want to check if it’s reality he’s in. if it isn’t another too-good-to-be-true dream of his. no one had loved him as much as you did.
it feels good to know that he’s wanted. needed.
“no, i think he is the lucky one,” satoru continues. his hand petting your head stops and he moves it to rub your cheek tenderly. he leans his head down, the tips of your noses touching. he whispers, “having a pretty girl like you love him so dearly… yeah, he’s won the lottery.”
your heart skips a beat. satoru’s words leave you speechless. you don’t know if you can keep up the little silly act anymore. his flirting, the teasing and the genuineness behind his words—it’s all too much.
you grab the back of his head and push his lips down against yours. satoru’s breath hitches for a second before he gives in to you. he visibly melts, eyes closing and hands tightening their grip around your body.
“mmh,” satoru lets out a content moan. he loves you. he’s glad he’s met you and he’s glad he made you his wife two years back. you’re the only one for him. death won’t do you apart—no—he promised you on your wedding day that it wouldn’t.
you kiss him like it’s your last kiss on earth. the spark between you is still as warm and strong as it was when you met. the people who’ve warned you about the ‘honeymoon phase’ are clearly all wrong. they aren’t aware of the strength your bond with satoru has. you’re inseparable.
“i love you,” you sigh against satoru’s glossy lips and he deepens the kiss after that.
somebody loves him. somebody cares for him. that’s all he needs in life. his life is complete with you in it. he smiles against your lips and says the three words back, with more passion than ever before, “i love you too, my angel.”
nothing will ever separate you. not fate. not anyone.
#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x you#jjk x you#gojo x y/n#jjk x y/n#jjk fluff#gojo fluff
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Orange Theory
Charles Leclerc x best friend!reader (female reader)
summary: charles and his best friend do countless nice things for each other, but they're just behaving like any good friend would. right?
wc: 2.5k
author's note: ok guys so this is not the Charles fic i promised (she is still a WIP and i will finish her eventually. probably will have to be a multi-part fic with how long it's getting), but i hope you enjoy this one in the meantime! special thanks to @scuderiahoney for encouragement and inspiration. special thanks to @sof1shticated for reading and assuring me this doesn't suck. if you haven't read their fics, both Lee and Mel have some gems that i adore. HIGHLY recommend checking out their masterlists!
warnings: none!
You loved summer break – Charles was home for at least a few weeks, days spent on a yacht, every afternoon and evening spent with friends either at dinner or out at some club until someone got too drunk to carry on.
Today was, in your humble opinion, the perfect day. All of your friends, courtesy of Charles, were sprawled out on the sun deck of a rented boat or splashing around in the water below. You could feel the heat radiating off of Lando as he laid next to you and whispered about how McLaren was making insane upgrades – according to him, they might just have a race-winning car in the second half of the season.
“Are you boring my best friend to tears, Norris?”
The brutal sun disappeared behind Charles’ body as he stood above you – as if on instinct, he shifted slightly so that you could look up at him and not be blinded by its rays.
“She’s hanging on my every word, right, Y/N? In fact, she asked me how I’m feeling about Zandvoort and the rest of the season.”
“And?” Charles asked, a small smile on his face.
“Like I would tell you what’s going on with the car! I know Y/N can keep a secret, she would never betray me to a prancing horse. She bleeds papaya.”
You laughed along with Lando – the one point of contention that had always existed in your friendship with Charles. Of course, you became a Ferrari fan because of him, but you’d always been a McLaren and Mercedes loyalist. It was something that Lando, Oscar, and George relished in.
“Alright, alright, no need to rub it in, Norris,” you giggled. “What can I do for you, Charlie?”
“I just came to give you this.”
Within seconds, a perfectly peeled orange dropped in your lap. Lando’s eyes grew wide for a moment but a swift glare from Charles had his face back to normal in no time. You missed the interaction, jumping up from your seat in excitement.
“Aw, Charlie! You are the best friend a girl could ask for,” you chirped as you started separating the wedges of fruit.
“Ah, don’t mention it,” he sighed, waving his citrus-scented hand in the air. “There’s more in the cooler if you want! Freshly peeled!”
“Thank you, mon cher ami.” You quickly kissed his cheek, noticing as you pulled away just how red it was, along with his neck and the tips of his ears. “Charles! How many times do I have to tell you to put on sunscreen? Your face and neck are fried!”
“I don’t think it’s from the sun,” Lando mumbled, his eyes trained on the fruit in your hands. With Charles insisting he was fine, you could barely hear what he had said.
“What did you say, Lan?” You asked, turning your attention away from Charles for a moment.
Once again, Lando was met with a menacing glare and he laughed awkwardly before moving his gaze to the horizon.
“Nothing, nothing, Y/N. Just thinking out loud.”
Shrugging your shoulders, you turned back to Charles and handed him the orange he had just given to you. With your now free hands, you rifled through your beach bag until you found the SPF 50 face cream you had packed that morning with Charles in mind.
“Here, I packed this for you. Please put some on so I don’t have to worry about you getting sun poisoning,” you pleaded with your best puppy dog eyes.
Charles stared without answering for far too long – anything you wanted, all you had to do was ask him and he’d do it. Even without you gazing at him with your wide, siren eyes, he would give you the world if you so desired it.
He shook his head slightly, pulling himself out of the daze caused by your pleading eyes. “Oui, ma fleur, I will put on the sun cream. Je promets.”
You smiled in triumph, taking the orange back from Charles and bidding him a “see you later” before laying back down in your lounger. Popping an orange slice into your mouth, you let out a contented sigh. Somehow, whether Charles was magic or he had some serious connections in the produce world, the fruit he picked out and gave to you always tasted better than anything you bought yourself.
“He peels your oranges for you?”
You hummed and turned to Lando – “what, Lan?”
“Does Charles always peel your oranges for you?”
“Well, no, obviously not always. Why?”
Before Lando could answer, Lily plopped down next to you and stole an orange slice from your hand.
“I swear,” she huffed, “Alex and George are competitive to begin with, but when they get together, it’s unbearable. They’ve been having a “who can hold their breath the longest” contest for the past thirty minutes! Rematch after rematch after rematch, I called in my favor with Oscar to get out of judging their little competition.”
“As if either of them could beat me, they probably didn’t ask me to join because they’re scared,” Lando bragged. “I’ll leave you ladies to chat, go show them how it’s done.”
As Lando walked towards the edge of the boat, you and Lily turned towards one another.
“Men,” you scoffed in unison, following it up with belly laughs and lingering giggles.
As the laughter died down, Lily ate the orange slice she had stolen from you and practically moaned in delight.
“Where did you get this orange? It might be the best I’ve ever had!”
“It’s from Charles! I was just thinking about this, I don’t know how he does it but he always has the best fruit. Every time he brings me any I am both ecstatic and pissed off – my fruit is never as good as his and we shop at the same grocery store!”
“Well, does he have any more oranges? I could eat 20 of these.”
“He said he left me more in his cooler, let me grab them.”
A few moments later, you walked back to Lily with a bag of peeled oranges in your right hand and two bottles of water in your left.
“Are you a professional orange peeler? You were only gone for two minutes.”
“Oh no,” you giggled, “Charles peeled them for me. He knows I don’t like peeling them so when he can, he always does it for me.”
“Y/N,” Lily looked at you suspiciously, “do you know what the orange peel theory is?”
You wracked your brain but came up empty. “No, what is it?”
Lily went into a brief explanation – something about how it became a viral tik tok challenge, people asking their partners if they would peel an orange for them and how it was an indicator of true love, soulmates, a healthy relationship, and everything in between.
“Well, that’s just silly,” you mumbled through chews, orange juice dribbling down your chin. “I think it just means someone is a good person – Charlie and I aren’t anything more than friends and he peels my oranges, among other things, because he has a good heart.”
“Among other things?” Lily pressed you, her eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t quite place.
“He slices my apples because I have never been able to master the apple corer contraption! And he takes all my grapes off the stems when he’s at my place because I never do – it’s too tedious.”
“What else?”
“Oh, when we go out to breakfast, he always brings me a tea when he picks me up. He’s an early riser and I take forever to get ready. He knows I never have time to make it myself when we have plans before 10am.”
Lily was smirking at you, no, smiling at you. It was a little unnerving, the way she was entirely amused at the information you were giving her. However, the moment was briefly interrupted by the arrival of Alex.
“What are we talking about, ladies?” He spoke cheerfully, a broad smile on his face which meant that he was most likely declared the best breath holder of the 2019 rookies.
“Y/N was just telling me about all the sweet things Charles does for her,” Lily gushed.
“Oh god, when is he not doing things for her? Did you see him buttering her bread for her at dinner last week?”
Lily burst out laughing while you playfully punched Alex’s arm. “I’m indecisive! He butters it for me while I read the menu since it takes me so long to figure out what I want to order. It saves time!”
“He does that on a regular basis?” Alex asked incredulously, looking at Lily with wide eyes. “My god, that man is head over heels.”
“Alex,” you protested, “Charles is not in love with me. We’ve been friends for six years, I think I would know by now.”
“You’re both impossible,” Alex groaned. “Come on, Lily, I just came over to get you so we could play water polo with George and Carmen.”
Lily sighed in defeat, though she had a smile on her face at the thought of spending time with Alex even if it meant another competition.
“I’ll see you, later, yeah?” She called over her shoulder, waving goodbye as you teased her by dramatically eating another slice of orange and settling back in your chair. At the front of the boat, Charles was laughing with Pierre and almost as if he felt you looking, he turned around and met your gaze.
Even though you had just wholly denied anything more than friendship between you and him, you couldn’t help but think about your interactions with Lily and Alex.
Sure, Charles sometimes did things that were out of the ordinary for ‘just friends’, but he had the sweetest soul of anyone you’d ever met. He always sacrificed his umbrella or jacket for you, made sure you had fresh tulips in your apartment when he was home in between races, had your favorite meal delivered to you when you were having a rough day while he was away and you missed him.
You did things for him too – cleaned his apartment when you knew he was on his way back to Monaco, left him plenty of sticky notes with words of encouragement if he was coming back from a bad race, stocked his fridge full of his favorite things. Recently, you’d been gifting him annotated books because he mentioned he wanted to read more and always enjoyed listening to you talk about your favorite novels. Since you spent most of the year apart, you decided he could at least read your thoughts.
When you could come to races, unfortunately a rare occurrence due to your graduate classes and work schedule, he made sure Ferrari hospitality had your favorite flavor of sparkling water on hand. Anytime you saw a cute dog video, you would send it to him because they always made him smile.
You’d do anything to make him smile, just as he would for you, which is what a good friend would do. A best friend, it’s what a best friend would do.
But best friends didn’t linger in doorways and stare at each other’s lips when bidding each other goodnight. They didn’t cuddle close and fall asleep in each other’s arms on a couch while watching whatever movie you had chosen because he always let you choose.
They didn’t look at one another the way Charles was looking at you now – his sunglasses pushed up on top of his head and a dopey smile on his face. He waved to you and dramatically blew you a kiss, something he always did when he caught your eye across a room, no matter who was around.
You practically launched yourself to your feet, the last remaining orange slices in your lap falling to the lounger and staining the seat with juice. It was only seconds until you were standing in front of Charles but the walk over felt like an eternity with the way the world around you disappeared and your heart pounded in your chest.
“Est-ce que tu maimes, Charles?”
The question came out in one breath, your chest heaving in anticipation for his response.
“Of course, I love you, ma fleur,” he laughed. “What’s gotten into you?”
“No,” you panted. “Do you love me, Charlie? Est-ce que tu maimes?”
“Of course, I love you,” he answered again, his eyes shining and a small smile on his face that told you everything you needed to know. “Every time I think of you, I love you. Every time I breathe, I love you.”
“Every time you peel my oranges?” You whispered, holding up your orange juice-stained fingertips. He took your right hand in his and held it up to his face to kiss your palm, his eyelashes fluttering against you gently.
“Especially when I peel your oranges. Did you know that I hate doing it too? Like, really hate it. I don’t even peel them for myself.”
You gasped in shock, watching as he threw his head back and laughed jovially.
“I’d do anything for you, ma fleur. Mon soleil. Mon cœur.”
“Would you kiss me?”
“Maybe if Pierre would leave and stop gawking at us.”
This time you threw your head back to laugh, Charles soon joining you as Pierre protested the accusation.
“No, no,” he shouted, “you didn’t even give me a chance to leave. Just started declaring your love before I knew what was happening. Which, by the way, was so obvious it was starting to get annoying. We’ve all tried dropping hints to both of you so I don’t know who got through to you, Y/N, but – ”
“Pierre!” You shouted, eyes wide and arm gesturing him away from the two of you.
“Ah, désolé, I’m leaving,” he grumbled, almost tripping over his own feet to get away as quickly as possible.
You giggled again and Charles gripped your chin softly, pulling your eyes away from Pierre and back to face him.
He leaned in gently, as if he was afraid you would back away and regret taking the leap to go from friends to something so much more.
He tasted like salt water, smelled like sweet fruit and sunscreen – you smiled into the kiss knowing that he had listened to you and put it on, even though you knew he hated the way it felt on his skin.
His fingers gripped your waist and yours trailed up his chest – both of you slightly sticky from the citrus juices and sweat from the sun.
You pulled away and nudged his nose with yours, breathing him in and wishing that this moment would never end. Charles lowered you both to the sun deck, adjusting until you were sitting between his legs and his arms were wrapped firmly around you, the two of you facing the sunset and open sea.
After a few moments, you broke the shared silence. “You know, I would have happily peeled an orange for you if you had ever asked me,” you asserted.
Charles’ hold on you softened at your admission, the thinly veiled meaning not at all lost on him as he pressed his lips to your cheek.
“I love you too, Y/N.”
#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc#formula 1#formula one#formula one fanfic#formula 1 fanfic#f1 x reader#forzalando#f1 fanfic#f1 fic
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Text
Date Night Distractions
“Stop squirming or I’m going to pull out,” he growls into my ear. I whine softly, feeling my pussy clench down around his cock inside of me as I reluctantly keep still. He huffs softly against my neck and grabs the TV remote off the couch, turning up the volume on whatever inane movie is playing.
When he’d suggested we stream a movie for date night, I did not think I’d end up naked, seated on his lap, locked in his arms, and cockwarming him for the entire two hour long film. I checked out of the movie an hour ago, focusing only on the feeling of his long, hard cock filling my pussy so perfectly. But no matter how much I squirmed, begged, and wriggled around on his lap, he refused to fuck me or do anything other than lightly kiss my shoulder and stroke my arms.
Not even a few minutes later, I’m impatiently rocking my hips against him, feeling his hard cock brush up against my g-spot with every move. Small, breathless moans are escaping between my parted lips as I melt against him, eyes closing in pleasure and leaning the back of my head on his shoulder, letting my legs splay open on either side.
“You really can’t follow directions tonight, huh, darling?” He murmurs.
“Please, daddy, please I want you to fuck me,” I whimper, turning my neck to stare up at him beggingly.
“Nope, not until the movie is over,” he says mockingly, “Be good and maybe I’ll give you something to tide you over.” His fingers trail down my stomach, brushing softly against my pussy before retracting again. I whine and beg him, “Please, please, please touch me, daddy.”
He laughs softly in my ear, “You are such a perfect little whore. Can’t even keep your composure throughout a movie with daddy’s cock in your desperate little pussy.”
I can feel my pussy clenching around him at his words, and I know I’m dripping. His fingers brush lightly against my stomach again and he runs them down towards my pussy. I’m gasping and panting in anticipation, wanting him to do something, do anything to make the burning need inside of me go away for a little.
His fingers come to where we’re joined, collecting some of my wetness before he pulls them away and licks my essence off his fingers. “Fuck, darling, you always taste so sweet,” his voice is growly and I feel his cock jerk inside of me slightly. I whimper, the praise making me even hotter and wetter.
He fingers come back down to the apex of my thighs and he flicks my clit with the lightest touch. My back arches and I let out a broken moan and rock against him. The sharp pleasure shocks my system, making my head spin and lights flash in my vision.
“Good girl, you like that huh?” He murmurs softly as his fingers rub my clit softly without stopping. “Ah, fuck, yes, please daddy, it feels so good,” my voice is breathless and pitchy with pleasure. His doesn’t stop moving his fingers, stroking my clit in tight circles with varying speed and pressure, pushing my body closer and closer toward orgasm.
“Such a pretty girl, I can feel your tight pussy clenching around my cock. Fuck, you’re perfect, darling,” his praise is delivered with soft groans and growls as he plays with my body. I whine wordlessly, feeling my body moments away from shattering in a breathtaking orgasm.
“Come on, darling, cum all over my cock and on my fingers,” he murmurs, moving his fingers faster and harder against my pulsing clit. I moan as I feel the orgasm burning through my body, my pussy bearing down on his cock and pulsing rhythmically. I ride the wave of pleasure and hear his whispered praise in my ear, the combination of everything making me feel so warm and so loved.
“Good girl, just like that, cumming for me. So, so pretty when you fall apart, that’s it, that feels good huh?” He hums softly in my ear in approval, “Look at how drippy you are, darling, all that’s for me.”
My mind is spinning, thoughts floating away as the orgasm fades, leaving the most delicious, bone-settling haze and fullness. But he doesn’t stop playing with my clit, and slowly, the warmth fades and is replaced with a burning overstimulation that makes me cry out and squirm, my legs closing to protect my clit.
“Please, daddy, please it’s too much! I need a break!”
He laughs darkly in my ear. “Oh no, darling, no you don’t. You can take it, I know you can. Such a drippy little mess for me, your perfect pussy is so good around my cock.” His rips my legs apart, one hand holding me down while the other continues its assault on my clit.
I squeeze my eyes shut, my legs shaking as a second orgasm starts to build despite the overstimulation wracking my body. He’s merciless as he strums my clit effortlessly, the fullness of his cock combined with the relentless pleasure forcing my orgasm out of me. Stars light up in my vision and tears well up in my eyes as the painful pleasure makes my body go rigid and my pussy clench.
“Fuck, you’re so lovely when you fall apart like this. Good girl, keep cumming for daddy,” his voice seems to float around me, wrapping me up in an all-encompassing cloud of unbearable pleasure. I’m keening softly, letting out whimpering sobs as my body is pushed to its capacity.
“No more, please, no more,” my voice is small and desperate, my legs shaking and trying to close. I’m too cum-drunk to fight back properly and his fingers continue to brutalize me, pushing me toward another peak.
“One more, darling. I know you can do it, pretty girl, come on, let me feel your perfect little pussy fall apart one more time,” he coaxes me, the gentle words a shocking juxtaposition to his rough fingers and hard cock inside of me. He rolls my clit between his fingers and I whine.
Before long, a third orgasm crests inside of me, and I feel my pussy tighten around him again. This time, the pleasure is overwhelming and nerve-fraying. I’m incoherent as I moan and beg, babbling from overstimulation. He plays my body like an instrument and I feel my orgasm erupt, my pussy gushing around his cock, squirting my release.
“Good girl, perfect girl, squirt for daddy. That’s it, baby,” he kisses my neck as his fingers finally slow and stop their assault on my pulsing jewel. He pulls my boneless body off his cock, the feeling of it leaving my body making me whine softly with loss despite how thoroughly decimated I feel. My pussy is achingly empty as he wraps me up in his arms, pulling me close into his chest.
“You did so well, darling. So perfect for me,” he says, kissing the top of my head. I whimper softly and look up at his with bleary eyes, feeling his praise and love surround me. We sit together like this for a few moments, the room aglow with the TV screen still playing whatever stupid movie he’d put on to begin with. I’d almost drifted off in his arms when I feel him shift.
“Come on, darling. We have another thirty minutes left of the movie,” he purrs, smiling deviously at me. And so, I find myself seated on his cock again, my overstimulated pussy pulsing around his hardness, stuffed full, and head hazy with pleasure.
#nsft concept#overstim kink#cl1t torture#soft sub#praise#dom/sub#praise k!nk#dirty talk#desperate#c0ckwarming
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