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tojipie · 6 months

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welcome home <3

he’s unboxed ! who cheered. by far one of my most requested fics of all time. started this series 6 months ago and it remains one of my favs :,) this is by no means the end though ! i haven’t been writing any of the additions to this series in “order” and i am still 100% open to writing about his life inside/after prison lol. thank u to all the lovely ppl that have been showing love to these since april mwah mwah mwah mwah

as always, prison bf toji series linked here <3

content: (incarceration, fem reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, p in v smut, pining, road head, swallowing, creampie, dirty talk, multiple rounds)

“just step through here and—yep,” the guard waves his security want across your outstretched arms, clearing you to take your belongings from the conveyor belt.

you’d done this dance a hundred times over the past seven years, driving up to the district penitentiary twice a week to see your boyfriend—now fiancé.

toji told you he didn’t have it in him to wait, popping the question during a conjugal visit a month ago.

the man had known he’d wanted to marry you even before he got locked up. the feeling was mutual, but unspoken, always hanging in the air between the two of you.

you on the other hand had known you wanted to marry toji the moment he whispered his first “i love you,” said to you through the crackly speaker of a burner phone on a night when neither of you knew if he’d be coming home or not.

you make a beeline for the release wing, breaking into a subtle jog without drawing too much attention to yourself. the bouquet of green flowers you’d bought at the grocery store jostles in your purse, leaving a breadcrumb trail of stray petals.

there, around a bend and down the corridor stands the man of your dreams, flanked by officers and personnel at the front desk.

metal cuffs clack together as the man reaches to accept a clipboard from the release agent, skillfully uncapping the pen with his teeth to fill out the means for his freedom.

he looks up a split second before you speak, dropping the clipboard with an audible clatter. toji tears down the corridor with a look that speaks of relief beyond words.

“toji!” you yell, sprinting to the inmate with outstretched arms. you nearly trip over your own feet with how quick you barrel towards him.

warm bodies clash together at last, squeezing, cradling, and caressing every inch of each other at last. his law enforcement entourage watches from afar, some smiling, others annoyed.

you’re lifted clean off the ground as strong, tattooed arms slip over your head and around your body. thick fingers work their way into your hair, cradling your head to his shoulder.

actions speak louder than words, you know that much from how quickly he buckles, dropping to his knees with your body still wrapped around his.

toji smells different every time you come to visit. there were days when the tang of blood stuck to his skin no matter how hard he scrubbed, a telling sign of his short temper.

other days he’d smell like the earth, soil from the rec field permeating his already brown garments after his morning run.

once in a while, you’d catch hints of industrial paint and car exhaust, a smell built up from hours of making license plates for pocket change from the state. “pennies,” he’d tell you, “that’s all we fucking get in here.”

today, toji smells like himself. like the man you fell in love with 7 years ago in the passenger seat of a BMW, gazing into green eyes while gentle hands brushed the hair from your face.

you almost think he’s laughing until warm tears trickle through the porous fabric of your shirt.

strong shoulders quiver as quiet sobs rack his body, you rub his back in small circles, unable to pull away with how tight he’s holding you against his chest.

“i love you,” the inmate whimpers, wiping hot tears with his sleeve. he pulls back to press your lips together, mumbling nonsense in between kisses.

“pretty girl—m’ sorry— missed you,” his hands shake as they curl into the fabric at your waist.

you’d seen him cry exactly twice in his life. the first being the night he’d opened up to you in full for the first time, quietly relaying stories of neglect and abuse from his childhood while you kissed tears from his cheeks.

the second was well, the day he went away.

to see him break down like this so openly was devastating. he hated being emotional, told you it was humiliating. you’re sure he felt more than vulnerable, the leader of the city’s biggest drug ring, crumpled on the floor of a prison hallway

“it’s okay baby,” you tell him, still rubbing circles into his skin.

to touch him like this, at last, was unlike anything the two of you had been allowed to experience for the past 7 years. this wasn’t your two legally allowed hugs at the beginning and end of your visits, or a quick fuck in a storage closet.

this was love. to hold and be held in front of law enforcement personnel without threat of being reprimanded. this was the first time you had been allowed to feel him under the tips of your fingers with an audience, publicly declaring your claim on each other without fear.

you never blamed toji for what had happened, as angry as you were that first year. he blamed himself enough for the both of you really.

you’d come to learn over the years that it had already been too late for him to get out of his line of work way before you’d found each other, a cycle he couldn’t break.

prison was always a possibility, inevitable even. that’s just how it was.

you slowly gather your purse off the ground, cellophane-wrapped flowers coming into view.

“for me?” he laughs, slightly embarrassed. dark green carnations, just like his eyes.

“who else?” you tease, watching the distress melt from his face.

you share a look briefly, yours saying you’re safe with me. his saying i know.

the soft clicks of black work boots pull you from your thoughts, a female officer in tow.

“you guys ready to get started?” she asks softly, shooting you a sympathetic look.

toji stands with a chuckle, not letting you respond. silver cuffs dig into the meat of your thighs as you’re carried back to the group.

˚ ✧ ───────────

half an hour of paperwork for his freedom. that’s what you give the prison in exchange for his belongings and dignity.

the waiting room is quiet, sterile air filtering through dated vents. calloused fingers rub over your ankle, legs propped up in his lap.

“feels like a hospital in here,” he mumbles, trying to cut through the silence.

the cuffs are gone, thank god. though you’re more than unhappy with the marks they left on his wrists. toji doesn’t seem to mind, used to almost a decade of this treatment.

the release desk worker slides you two a yellow bag under the glass divider once you finish your task, pointing you in the direction of the bathrooms in case toji wanted to change.

the inmate—no, ex-inmate you remind yourself— hands you the bag with a disinterested look.

he doesn’t want to remember, you realize. too scared to wear the suit he had on the day the world took you from him. you quickly trash the old clothes and hold out your shoulder bag to him, fresh clothes neatly folded inside.

“always prepared huh?” toji smiles, grateful at the gesture. “haven’t changed a bit.”

you wait a couple of minutes outside the single-stall bathroom, physically picking your jaw up off the floor when he emerges.

to say that his old shirt fit would be... egregiously wrong. blasphemous even.

toji’s shirt doesn’t just “not fit”, it’s bursting at the seams as it struggles to accommodate his hulking form, stretching over plains of corded muscle like a rubber band pulled too tight.

seeing him so often had likely gotten your brain used to the change, preventing you from realizing how fucking big your fiancé had gotten. truly.

the black garment is so tight against his body that it’s practically a second skin. you make note of the way it molds into the dips and curves of his abs, mentally reminding yourself to get him to wear it for you later.

you suppose the change makes sense. if toji wasn’t with you on a day visit he was always in his cell, sticking to a strict workout regimen to take his mind off things. still, you rack your brain trying to pinpoint how and when such a massive transformation slipped your mind.

a tattooed hand snaps you out of your trance, cradling your cheek.

“you focused?” your fiancé teases, rubbing circles into your jaw with his thumb.

“i think that thing’s gonna explode if you move,” you swat his hand away.

“would you rather i take it off to be safe?” he asks, jutting a thumb behind him at the waiting room desk.

the workers make no attempt to hide their oggling, faces pressed against the glass barrier separating your party from theirs.

“no— god keep it on,” you mutter, shooting them a nasty look.

“you and your girlfriend ready to go fushiguro?” an officer says, holding the door open for the both of you. toji squats down momentarily to get a grip on your thighs, folding you over his shoulder to carry you fireman style.

“wife,” he corrects, shouldering past the guard and trudging down the corridor with calculated steps.

the coos that ring out from the help desk are humiliating.

waxed tile fades into worn concrete as the two of you pass the threshold into the prison parking lot, your soon-to-be-husband muttering a curt “go fuck yourselves” to the officers who’d wished him good luck on his way out the door.

you’re proud of him for holding his tongue, in a way. knowing toji and his temper there were a hundred more creative and undoubtedly gruesome things he could have said to the personnel who’d kept him locked up for the better half of a decade.

the world flips right side up again as you’re gently placed on your feet in front of the car.

toji raises his head to the sky, basking in the warmth of the afternoon sun.

“s’ nice,” he mumbles, reaching to intertwine your hands. “felt the sun during rev time but.. not like this.”

you hum, rubbing your thumb over tattooed knuckles.

“get ready to experience a lot more sun then,” you giggle. “wanna have a look at the car?” the question is more of a rhetorical one at this point considering he’s already running his hand over the hood with a whistle.

“haven’t seen this baby in a while,” he smiles, internally gushing at your choice to welcome him to the world in the car he used to drive you home the night you met. your fiancé doesn’t have to say thank you, you know how grateful he is from his smile alone.

he falters for a bit, looking like a newborn fawn with how careful his steps are as he circles the vehicle. you figure wearing proper shoes instead of rubber slides must feel at least a little abnormal after 7 long years.

“alright,” toji states, rolling his shoulders in his too-tight top. “fuck are we waiting for, i wanna go home.”

˚ ✧ ───────────

you pay no mind to toji the first time he turns to look at you, opening his mouth to say something before slumping back into his seat with a frustrated sigh.

the fourth time it happens, you speak up.

“what are you doing?” you laugh, eyeing him from the driver's seat

“getting rubbed to death by my fucking zipper,” he mutters, repositioning his lower half to take the pressure off his cock. his frustration isn’t aimed at you in the slightest, all blame placed on his bottoms.

oh.. oh.

the whirlwind of emotions toji had gone through in the past 3 hours alone had taken a toll on his mind and body. but tasting the first morsels of freedom with you, alone in a car that smelled like you? you’d be worried if he wasn’t hard.

you had no problem helping his little problem go away, the question was how soon.

the idea that piques on you is absolutely shameful, you’re not even sure where it came from but you don’t have it in you to care.

you know this road, you’ve used it a thousand times to make the trip up to the penitentiary. judging by how long you’d been driving you’d say there was about 10 minutes left before ruler-straight tar merged into the twists and turns of the suburbs.

“when did your license expire?” you ask, cautiously peering in the rearview mirror. good, no cars.

“3 years ago,” he laughs, “why?”

fuck it, you think.

“you still remember how to steer?”

“course i d— oh.”

it finally dawns on him. you smile, shooting him a look that says “want to?”

you’re sure you have your answer judging by how quick he shucks his jeans and boxers down, freeing his cock from its confines.

“oh fuck,” he groans, struggling to keep his eyes open as your mouth presses against his base.

your fiancé steers while your head bobs just beneath the dash, one hand on the wheel and the other placed firmly at the crown of your head, guiding you up and down the shaft.

your throat flexes around the intrusion, fighting the hulking feeling of his length mercilessly fucking into your mouth.

“fuck, perfect girl— my girl,” he shudders, hips moving to buck into your slick throat.

“gonna cum, gonna— shit,”

fingers kissed in dark ink massage your throat softly, urging you to swallow the hot load coating every inch of your mouth. you flutter around his length, pulling back to clean him off with your tongue.

“fucks gotten into you, pretty girl?” he whispers, so out of breath you barely hear him.

˚ ✧ ───────────

you barely make it up the steps of the house before you’re shoved against the door, tattooed hands groping up and down your body with fervor.

“keys,” he says against your lips, “keys—fuck, now,” his voice is hoarser this time, desperation clear.

you whip around to jam the item into the lock, not unaware of the rock-hard dick grinding into your jean-clad ass from behind.

you’re being carried to the couch before you even step off the doormat, a stray throw blanket cushioning your fall as you’re pressed into squeaky leather.

“won’t be gentle,” toji groans, ripping your jeans and panties down in one fluid motion.” can’t right now.”

“don’t be.” you say, rucking his shirt off his body surprisingly quick. “wouldn’t want you to.”

you needed him, needed toji to have his way with you. to christen your home round after round until you couldn’t feel where his body and yours ended.

when it came down to it, you suppose

he smiles at the crude admission, rubbing the head of his cock up and down your drenched folds.

“filthy,” he mutters, said almost lovingly. toji grips his base and sinks to the hilt with a sharp groan, shuddering at the heat of your walls.

the stretch is delicious, filling you from every angle and pressing right against that special spot. you’re surprised at how easily he slams in, though you’re embarrassed to admit it was entirely because of how soaked you were.

toji immediately pulls back with a flick of his hips, pistoning into you like his life depends on it.

he hasn’t changed, you think. still so incredibly in tune with your body, skills that would put a pornstar to shame.

this was better than some quick closeted fuck under the cover of night after slipping a guard a rubber band of cash. this was primal, filthy. two bodies writhing against each other, the only goal being complete and utter pleasure.

toji makes no effort to shush you like he would if you were sneaking around, basking in your sighs and whines like water from a stream.

“missed this,” he says, licking a long, wet stripe from your sternum to your pulse. “missed you, missed having you every day.”

“you’ll have me forever,” you moan, sucking a purple bruise into the tattooed skin of his throat.

thick fingers thread into your hair to hold you to his neck, silently commanding you to bite down.

and so you do. you bite down hard on the junction of his neck and shoulder, licking over pink teeth marks as his thrusts reach their maximum speed.

the pleasure you feel is blinding. stars explode behind your vision while the curve of his cock hits that heavenly spot in you just right. over, and over, and over.

your climax sneaks up on you before you can think, ripping a wail from the depths of your chest. toji’s thrusts falter to a halt as you lock down on him, pleasantly caught off guard by the vice grip you have around him.

“oh my g— holy shit,” he groans, mouth hanging open. dark brows furrow it to a look of pure pleasure, emerald eyes squeezing tight.

“keep going,” you mumble, scratching rivets down the skin of his back. “just keep fucking me please don’t stop please pl—”

“yeah? keep going?” he teases, groping at the swell of your breast. “greedy huh?”

you did want more, that was the thing. you just came the hardest you ever had in years but you’d be damned if he didn’t keep giving it to you.

brutal thrusts shake the frame of the couch. your bodies meld like they were made for each other, sharing pleasure in the comfort that came with the knowledge that the both of you intended to fuck until you physically couldn’t anymore.

“gonna come,” your fiancé pants, mouthing at the curve of one of your breasts. blunt teeth brush over the bud of your nipple, sending shockwaves down your spine

“inside, fuck—please,” you’re practically shaking.

“inside?” he repeats, the word rolling off his tongue like gold. “you want my seed? huh?”

you nod, clutching to his naked back as he ruts into you, deeper than ever. strong hands grip the back of your thighs practically folding you in half, opening you up in ways you thought to be impossible.

hot release fills you up for the second time that day, shrouding your lower half in a blanket of warmth.

you sigh, low and satiated at the feeling inside of you, pulling toji to your chest when he collapses on top of you.

“we should probably..” toji trails off, completely out of breath. “should probably head upstairs.” he heaves, chest swelling with deep gulps of air.

“or we could go another round?” you mumble, throwing the question out there.

“shit, yeah.. probably should right?” he chuckles

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tragedybunny · 8 months

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My Starry Sky - Astarion x F!Reader

Reader and Astarion have their first real argument and have to go through the aftermath.

“Come to bed early, spend some time with me?” Astarion whispered in your ear, crimson eyes still a bit watery.

There wasn’t any other answer to give. “Of course love,” you took his hand and gave it a soft squeeze, desperate to reassure him after what had happened earlier.

Going into this, you knew how he could be, how he lashed out sometimes, and why. That hadn’t made the first time he directed it at you after your mutual confession any easier. Maybe you had thought finally sharing your feelings would change that part of him, a selfish wish. “Damn it, are you just going to ignore me all day!” He snapped at you on the road, drawing questioning looks from your other companions.

“What?” You’d turned back to him, confusion knitting your brows together.

“You heard me.” Around you, you could sense everyone stepping away, wisely giving the two of you space, despite the fact that you were in a desolate, cursed place. The locale was probably not helping the tension.

“I’m not ignoring you!” The first mistake you made in that conversation, a sharp tone, fire returned.

“So I’m just imagining that you’ve hardly said two words to me for hours but have been more than happy to prattle on with everyone else.” He doubled down, and you could tell he wasn’t going to hear you. “Or you're lying.”

The accusation stung, did he think so little of you? Maybe this was all a mistake. And just like that, all the worries, the struggles, and this blasted place boiled over, and you were the one who lashed out. “This isn’t going to work, we’re not going to work, if you’re going to act like this!” The second mistake.

Eyes going wide, his posture changed in an instant. It was like he tried to make himself smaller, to get away from the pain of your words. “Please no, I’m sorry.” His voice shook and if he had any need of breathing he would have been gasping. “Gods, I’ve already ruined it.” Tears had started to spill down his cheeks.

With horror, you realized what you’d done. You’d threatened him into compliance, even if you had done so out of hurt. Were you no better than Cazador? In a rush, you threw your arms around him pulling him close, frantic to relieve the hurt you’d caused. “No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” After a second of hesitation, you felt his arms encircle you as he sniffled into your hair. "That was wrong of me."

It took a few moments of soft whispers and soothing until he would let you go. "Let's just forget this," you prompted and he readily agreed.

The hurtful words and accusations stuck with you though and you excused yourself as soon as dinner was over. Taking you by the hand, Astarion leads you to his tent, where you'd been sleeping most nights lately. With a soft gasp, you note small enchanted motes of light, dancing at the top of the tent. "Gale's work," you ask, staring at them with enchantment.

"I don't want to know what he's going to ask me in return," he chuckles but it’s strained and struggling.

“At least he’s not looking for magic to eat anymore.” With a quick brush of your lips against his cheek, you lower yourself down to the waiting nest of blankets the two of you spend your nights wrapped around each other in. Your hand still in his pulls him along with you.

An open bottle of wine and two glasses were waiting and you readily take one after he pours it. The two of you sit close enough that shoulders and thighs touch, a small comfort after the harshness of the day, and you lean your head on his shoulder. “I love you, you know that right?” Desperately, you want him to know it, even with all the complications, you sincerely love him.

“I know,” he finishes the glass of wine, and you note that he seems off still. “I love you too,” he pours another and drinks deeply. It was a rough day all around though, and you don’t want to push it.

Moments later you’re surprised as a pale, slender hand reaches down to tilt your chin up off his shoulder and kiss you. The taste of the wine lingers on his lips and you drink in the intimacy of it on your tongue. Your glass is taken from your grasp as the kiss deepens, lips parting invitingly to him. Hands wrap around your waist and your stomach flutters, you’ve missed being touched like this by him. A trail of soft bites is traced from your lips down your neck as his hands work their way under your shirt caressing the sensitive skin of your breasts. Reaching up, you grip his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as a soft moan escapes you. “My sweet girl,” he murmurs against your throat and your blood runs cold.

That isn’t him, he sounds a thousand miles away, and so empty. “I thought you weren’t ready for this.”

A thumb brushes over a nipple and his teeth dig into your flesh just hard enough to thrill. You swallow the cry you almost make, not wanting to encourage this. “I’ve been thinking it’s time to move on, let go of the past,” his voice tremors and you can tell he’s lying even as he tries to kiss you again.

“Astarion, stop,” gently you push him away and see the panic in his face. “Why are you doing this?”

He looks anywhere but right at you, eyes hazy and unfocused “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Astarion…”

He sighs heavily, breaking down at last. “Well, I thought after today, perhaps you were tiring of me, and that I should do something to win you back. And I can’t seem to get this right either.”

Pain slices through your chest and you feel as though your heart is being torn in two. Carefully, you put your hands on his cheeks. “Look at me,” it’s not a command, but a plea, and he finally brings his eyes to yours. “I love you, and I’m not going to tire of you. Understand?” Wordlessly he nods. “But you are never to try to buy me again with your body, you are worth so much more than that.” A loving kiss on his forehead punctuates your words and you hear him sniffling again.

“I can try, it is so hard to leave behind.” Arms open, you beckon him to you, and you both collapse into the waiting blankets. “It feels like the only thing I know, the only thing I’m good for. And I just want to keep you but I don’t know how else to do it sometimes.”

“Just love me, that’s all I need.” You yearn for nothing but to cover him in soft kisses and hold him forever, so he can know how loved he is, how cherished. “My Starry Sky.”

With his face buried in your neck, he murmurs softly, sounding like his true self again, “my Sunlight.”

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x f!reader #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #my fanfiction #my writing

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gojo-mochi · 10 months

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One Piece Men + Reader touching their thigh and saying “I’m Hungry”

TW: Slight Voyeurism, NSFW.

A/N: First attempt at smut,,, screaming ૮ ⸝⸝o̴̶̷᷄ ·̭ o̴̶̷̥᷅⸝⸝ ྀིა

Zoro:

You did it while he was working out up in the Crow’s Nest. You walk up to him, with Zoro barely noticing your arrival as he focuses on his 495th rep of overhead presses. You place your hand on his knee, caressing your way up to his thigh, sneaking a finger under his waistband. Zoro’s breath hitches when you do so. “What do you want, woman?” He grunts out, continuing his reps. You keep your hand still as you sigh out, “I’m hungry, Zoro.” Zoro sends a look your way, sweat dripping down his forehead. “And? What the hell do you want me to do about it? Go see that shitty cook if you’re hungry.” You roll your eyes and dip your finger into his gym shorts more, pulling down the waistband slightly to reveal a bit of green turf. “Are you sure you want me to go to Sanji for this?” Zoro sucks on his teeth at your response and throws away the dumbbells in his hands; they make a loud crashing noise when they land on the floor. Still lying on his back, Zoro grabs your hand and pulls you onto him. His bulge is ever so present between your thighs. He bucks up his hips while grabbing your plush thighs now, his fingers sinking in harshly. You moan a bit. “Zo-Zoro… what if people come up here because they heard the crash?” “Hah…? Thought you were hungry? It’s too late to turn back now, sweetheart.” He smirks when your thighs tremble at the nickname. “I’m going to make you regret coming up here.”

Sanji:

He was preparing to make dinner when you sneaked up behind him. He turns around to give you quick kisses on the forehead. “Hello Princess.” He murmurs between kisses before turning around again and returning to the cutting board. “I’m just chopping up some vegetables right now, but did you need something for me?” You hugged his side, one arm around his waist and the other on his thigh, Sanji froze mid cut. “I’m Hungry.” You stuck out your bottom lip in a big pout. “Y/N-sw-swan, I can, ahem, make you a quick snack if you like.” He tries to play it cool but with the way his legs were shaking, he was already close to being undone. You lean your head on his shoulder and whisper next to his ear, your hand ghosting above the front of his pants. “I think I want this snack, though; can you prepare it for me, baby?”. Sanji almost lets out a whimper but holds strong; he fully turns around to grab you by the waist and pull you up on the counter. Face flushed and hands slightly trembling, he kneels down, pressing open mouth kisses on your bare skin leading up to your core. “I hope you don’t mind me taking the first taste, darling.”

Shanks:

It was in the middle of another party; Shanks and the Red-Haired Pirates were drinking the night away once again. Shanks was laughing at something when you swayed your way up to him. He immediately took notice and started to make grabby hands and kissy noises at you. “Babeeeeee~ Come here.” Shanks grins at you, drawing you in and settling you down on his thigh. He cuddles closely and breathes in your scent, the smell of alcohol tickles your nose while his stubble tickles your neck. You try to resist already mewling as his hand gropes around your soft body, and with a blush creeping up your neck you grab Shanks’ hand. “Dear… I’m hungry.” You murmured, your hand slowly sliding up his thigh, but before you could get up any further, Shank had already pulled you closer, nose to nose, grinning wildly. “In public, doll? How shameful.” He lets out a small ‘tsk’ but swiftly drowns out any complaints or retorts you may have by poking his tongue through your lips. It was a sloppy kiss, but that didn’t stop your thighs from clenching together. It took for one of the other party-goers to start shouting at the both of you, ‘To get a room’ before Shanks pulled away with a sheepish grin. He stands up with you still on his hips. “How about we continue this in my room, hmm?”

A/N: Requests currently open!

#one piece x reader #one piece #Zoro x reader #one piece smut #zoro x reader smut #zoro roronoa x reader #sanji x reader #sanji x reader smut #shanks x reader #shanks x reader smut #₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎ softy writes

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schoopsahoy · 1 year

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more than just friends

steve harrington x female!reader {3.1k} you and your best friend have gotten into the habit of making out, as long as there's no touching. but that's easier said than done. no use of y/n, not proofread 18+ mdni

cw: mutual masturbation, unprotected p in v sex

No touching.

That was the rule that you and Steve had settled on, because making out with your best friend is totally okay as long as there’s no touching. Sure, a hand on a waist or a cheek is alright - anything more is off limits.

Your rule worked fine at first, but recently the two of you seem to keep pushing the boundary. Just a little each time - like the way you’ll leave hickies on each other and not make much of an attempt to hide them, or how Steve has you underneath him with a leg in between your thighs and there’s just enough pressure to make your head a little dizzy.

His mouth is kissing softly against the lilac bruise he’s left under your jaw, and you’re having to use all your self control to not press yourself down against his leg for the friction your body is craving. You feel so tightly wound, the fact you know it can’t go any further only makes you crave it more, your stomach in knots and heart pounding in your chest.

“Steve.” It comes out as a whine, all desperate and you’d probably be embarrassed if it were anyone else who was kissing down your neck. You only get a hum as a response, Steve too focused on marking up your skin to realize you weren’t just saying his name as some encouragement. “Steve.” You’re a little firmer this time, voice not as breathy as before and it’s enough to finally bring his attention back to your face.

“Hm, what? Y’wanna stop?” His lips are all slick and swollen from his work on your throat, pupils a little blown as he stares down at you. He pushes some of your hair out of your face, loose strands that he can tuck behind your ear and the gentle act only has you aching more, the coil in your stomach twisting that bit tighter.

“No, no.” You breathe your words out, eyes closing as you almost laugh at the suggestion. “S’like, the opposite of what I want.”

Steve’s still stroking mindlessly at your hair, all soft and without a second thought. “You want more hickies?” His brow pinches with confusion, face a little scrunched up and you hate that all you can think about is how cute he is, how much you want him. “‘Cause I can do that, but y’might get in trouble at work.”

“No, not that.” You sigh, pressing your lips together as you battle with yourself over saying what you actually mean. “I want more, y’know?”

“More?” He watches you nod below him, cheeks all flushed and you can’t hold his gaze. “What, like you wanna get off?” His voice is a little teasing, a grin tugging on his lips as you try to hide your face with your hands.

“God, I d’know.” You groan, suddenly all shy even though you know you don’t have to be. “I guess, maybe, yeah.” Steve taps your arms, a silent signal for you to uncover your face and you do, reluctantly. “I know we said no touching, but like, I feel like I’m gonna explode or somethin’.” You try to cover how serious you are with a laugh, hoping it’ll make it easier to play off if Steve completely shuts you down.

“I mean, there’s ways around that.” The way Steve’s smiling at you has your stomach doing somersaults.

“There is?”

“Sure, if you really want to.” He leans down to press a kiss on your lips, something small and barely there that has you chasing his mouth for more when he pulls away. “D’you want to?”

“Don’t be a dick, Steve.” You whine, head tipping back because of course he’s dragging it on, drawing it out of you as if you’re not already so tightly wound that you feel like you might snap any second. “Go on then, what's your loophole?”

“We can just get ourselves off, together.” He shrugs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You feel like your body is pressing harder into your mattress now, like gravity suddenly got stronger and you’re stuck in your spot with no way to move and Steve is looking down at you with his big brown eyes and a smirk tugging at his lips. You think your skin must be hot to the touch at this point, your temperature climbing and climbing because you’re about to get off with your best friend. You kind of wish you weren’t sober right now, craving the liquid confidence that comes with the buzz from a couple of drinks.

“Yeah, okay.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, looking up at Steve through your lashes suddenly all shy but the way he’s looking at you, all fondness and lust and like he’s been craving this too, makes you feel a little more confident.

As soon as you say the words, his lips are back on yours. It’s all hot and heavy with the way he’s licking into your mouth, different to how he usually kisses you - a little dirty and it’s enough to rip the air from your lungs and have you panting whenever he pulls away.

“Don’t be shy, baby, it’s just us.” He whispers against your lips, breath tickling your skin and the way he calls you baby has your hairs standing on end. He takes one of your hands in his own, guiding it down your body towards your already wet core. “You got it, just relax.” He coos, only moving his hand once you take the step and dip yours beneath your pyjama shorts.

You start slow, lazy circles rubbed over your panties because you’re still a little shy with it all. Steve’s placing soft kisses all over your face and neck, mumbling words of encouragement as he palms at himself through his sweatpants. Neither of you brave enough to shed any clothing yet, because sure you’ve been friends for years and spent countless summer days by Steve’s pool wearing far less but this was different.

You try to stifle your moans by biting down on your bottom lip, a little whimper trying to escape each time you brush over your clit and Steve can see the way your chest hitches as you try to control it.

“Y’don’t have to be shy, not with me.” He nudges his nose against yours, voice all soft and all you can manage is to nod wordlessly at him as he sits up to pull his shirt over his head. He tosses it to your bedroom floor, not that you saw where it went because you can’t stop staring at him - the way his muscles move with each motion, skin all tanned from the summer sun and you really, really hate your no touching rule now.

You squeeze your eyes shut before wriggling out of your own top, it’s a little easier when you can pretend like your best friend isn’t watching your every move. You do, however, regret not wearing a bra because you’re suddenly feeling all too exposed and a little - or maybe a lot - self conscious.

You go to try and cover yourself, one eye barely open to peer at Steve who’s looking at you like you’re the most perfect thing he’s ever seen. “Fuckin’ hell, you’re so hot.” His voice sounds spent, all breathy and strained and you suddenly feel a lot less exposed. If you weren’t already so hot with it all, you’re sure all your blood would be running to your cheeks.

Your eyes travel down to watch Steve stroking himself beneath his sweatpants, still constrained by them and his boxers but you can see how hard he is and feel your core clenching around nothing just at the thought of him.

It all seems to move so quickly once you start shedding clothes, like stripping back that layer has taken away all the shyness and uncertainty you felt and replaced it with some insatiable longing for something more, anything more.

You finally dip beneath your panties, wet fabric cold against your skin as you run a finger through your slick, gathering it up before rubbing tight circles against your clit. You can’t help but whimper with it all, the way Steve’s looking at you as he touches himself and how sensitive you are already, body reacting to each touch like they’re laced with electricity. “Oh my god.” You tip your head back, blinking hard as you try to breathe through the way you can feel the pressure build up in your stomach.

“Jesus, fuck, y’look so good.” Steve’s kneeling in between your legs, his free hand against your cheek and thumb rubbing softly against your skin. “Y’gonna take those off for me?” He nods down to your shorts. “Gonna let me see you?”

“Fuck, Steve.” You mewl, eyes meeting his as you continue rubbing your clit. “Y’want that? Wanna watch me touch myself?” You’re not sure where this faux confidence has come from, because it even shocks you when you say it but the way Steve reacts - a deep groan of your name and his pace against himself increasing - has your head spinning.

“God, yeah, please, I want that.” You don’t need anymore encouragement, hands tugging your shorts and panties down your legs to be discarded to the growing pile of clothes on the floor. You go to tug and Steve’s waistband, to even the playing field so you’re not the only one fully exposed, but hover your hand there because the lines are all blurred now and you don’t know what’s okay anymore. You think you might be a little bit fucked. “You wanna help me? Y’can do that, it’s okay.”

His tones all soothing and his hand guides yours back to his sweatpants so you can pull them down his legs along with his boxers. You knew Steve was big, you’ve felt him get hard when you’ve been straddling him when you make out, but actually seeing him has you clenching around nothing again, your body desperate to be filled by something other than your own fingers.

It’s all a little messy, because Steve’s leaning over you and kissing all down your neck and onto your chest and your hands keep knocking against each other as you both try to chase your highs. It’s driving you a little mad each time his hand bumps yours, so close to your cunt but never quite getting there, the frustration building in you as you dip a finger inside yourself in an attempt to get some sort of relief.

Steve looks down between the two of you, watches you try to settle on a rhythm as you pump your finger into yourself and whine at how it’s never quite right. Like it’s just missing that spot that would finally send you tumbling over the edge, so close to being what you need but falling short each time.

“Steve.” The way you say his name has him groaning again, because you sound so desperate and needy and his cock is so close to your cunt and God does he want to fuck you. Abandon all the boundaries you’ve spent so long obeying because you look so perfect underneath him and he just wants to look after you, make you feel good like he knows he can. “Please.”

It’s like you don’t need to say anything more, he already knows what you’re asking for, what you want from him. “Please what, baby?” He gives you that stupid grin as he rubs the tip of his cock against your core, running it up and down your slick eliciting a whine from you each time it nudges your clit.

“Want you.” You’re so wound up that you can barely force any words out, brain all muddled from how desperate you are to just be touched. “Want you to fuck me.”

“Fuck, yeah, y’sure?” You just nod at him, eyes all wide and chest heaving and he can see the way you squirm with each movement he makes against you, so sensitive and wound up. “Y’gotta tell me, use your words.”

“M’sure, Steve, please.” You’re practically begging now, blinking hard because you can feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes and you don’t want to cry but you’re just so needy and your body feels like it’s on fire with it all.

Steve kisses your temple, thumb swiping under your eyes where the skins a little wet from the tears that are welling up. “Oh, honey, don’t cry, I’ve got you.” He hushes you, hand moving from your face to hold yours as he uses the other to line up against your entrance. “Gonna make you feel so good, yeah?”

As soon as he starts to press into you, it’s like all the pent up energy inside your stomach is ready to release. The way his cock stretches you out, slow thrusts so it doesn’t hurt you too bad as he kisses you all soft and you find yourself thinking that this doesn’t really feel like you’re just friends messing about anymore.

Your free hand finds purchase on his shoulders, nails digging into the skin and leaving little half moons there that’ll probably still be there in the morning. Your breath hitches in your chest with each thrust, a little whimper spilling from your mouth as Steve squeezes your hand. “Doin’ so good for me, takin’ me so well.” His words are whispered against your skin, and you feel him hum against it when he finally bottoms out inside you.

He sits there for a moment, letting you adjust to him but he can feel you clenching you around him and it sends his head spinning a little. You rock your hips against him, your voice still caught in your throat so this is the best way you can think of to tell him to move. He seems to get it though, a small chuckle at your antsy movements before he starts to rock his hips into you.

It’s still a slow pace, agonizingly so almost. Because you’re so tightly wound at this point, teetering on the edge just to be pulled back over and over and never quite get there. You don’t say anything though, don’t push for Steve to move faster or harder because he’s still holding your hand and mumbling praises into your neck over and over and it feels about as soft as fucking your best friend can.

After a couple minutes he does quicken his thrusts, you still mewling underneath him each time the tip of his cock nudges the soft spot inside you that you can never quite reach yourself. His free hand hitches one of your legs up higher, fingers spread wide against the soft skin of your thigh so he can bring it up to his waist and get deeper inside you.

“Jesus, Steve, feels so good.” You manage to mumble something out, words a little slurred from how tight your chest feels because you’re already so close and your heart is beating so hard you can almost hear it. “M’so close.” Everything you say comes out as a whine, not that you mean it to, but Steve likes it. Likes that it’s him who’s got you so blissed out.

“Yeah? Y’gonna cum for me? Such a good girl.” He soothes, voice all sickly sweet but still a little filthy. He thrusts into you harder now, watching the way your back arches up off the bed for him when he gets real deep. When his fingers start rubbing against your clit you know you’re done for, the messy circles against your nerves and the way he’s buried so deep inside you and looking at you like you’re the only important thing in the world right now is all too much for you.

“Fuckfuckfuck.” You moan as you feel the tether inside you finally snap, wound so tightly that when it finally releases it has you seeing white as you squeeze your eyes shut and grip onto Steve even harder than before.

“You’re okay, I got you.” Steve keeps rocking his hips into you through your high, letting you squeeze his hand so tight that you would definitely feel bad about it if you weren’t so preoccupied. “So pretty for me, y’so perfect.” He keeps running his mouth with praises as he chases his own high, thrusts getting a little sloppy as he gets closer, feeling you squeeze him as you came enough to have him almost there already. “I’m so - fuck - m’so close, where should I cum?” He’s blinking hard to try and keep himself controlled enough to at least last until you tell him.

You’re still trying, and failing, to catch your breath. Body still feeling like it’s charged with electricity, all your nerves on high alert as you try to come down from your climax whilst Steve still pounds into you.

“M’on the pill.” You exhale, words barely audible over the sounds of Steve fucking into you. “Can cum inside, want you to.”

“Fuckin’ hell.” Steve groans, head tucked into the crook of your neck as his movements become a little sloppier and fall out of rhythm as he reaches his own climax, hips stuttering as he whispers about how good you feel and how pretty you are as he spills inside you.

He stays inside you after he’s finished, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath amidst pressing gentle kisses to your face. You don’t want to admit how much you like it, not just the fucking but the intimacy of it all. Your hands are still intertwined, fingers locked with each other and neither of you make any attempt to unhook them.

“Think we did that wrong.” You mumble, a shy smile on your lips as Steve pauses his kisses to look at you. His eyes still look all dark and wide, thick lashes blinking slow at you as he grins, shaking his head.

“Yeah, think the whole ‘no touching’ things kinda out the window now.” He glances down to where he’s still buried inside you, and despite everything it’s still enough to have you feeling all shy. “I don’t mind though, if you don’t.” He looks at you, eyes full of affection and a soft smile as he waits for you to answer. It’s always no pressure with Steve, never pushing you for anything or making you uncomfortable - you’re always his first priority. It makes your heart ache a little, in a good way.

“I don’t mind.” It’s a roundabout way of expressing your feelings, neither of you pushing it any further right now because it’s enough. You know each other so well that you don’t need to say more, reading between the lines and letting things happen slowly. Maybe you’re not as fucked as you thought you were.

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut

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whaddayadothatfor · 11 months

Text

Eucteniza relata

Summary: After catching Miguel in the act, you realize you’re trapped in his web. Miguel, tired of your smart mouth and disobedience, has a bone to pick with you.

Content warnings: dub-con humiliation, spanking, dom/sub dynamics, faux!vampire!Miguel because I’m obsessed

AN: This man is an asshole, y’all. Yummy. This is also so so nasty. Did anyone watch The Invitation?? Remember the scene with the door? Those that get it, get it. Anyways, I hope y’all like it! Oops and before I forget, there will be a third and final part. See ya!

Taglist: @quaintii @sunflowercandie @villainarc-2 @battinsonwhore05 @friendly-reject @baker-and-fangirl @cynicallyaestetic @alnmpt

MDNI

This is the second part to Ctenizidae! Check it out here if you haven’t read it yet: Part 1

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Miguel lifts you up, holding your hips in his hands. He trails his fangs from the base of your neck to that sensitive spot right beneath your ear lobe.

He bites down gently, just enough to draw both blood and a whimper out of you. He tugs your hair back so he can do want he wants without interference, kissing and sucking and biting as he pleases, paying no mind to your choked-back moans.

When he’s had enough, he moves to whisper in your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

“You know, I’ve had just about enough of that mouth of yours—“

“My m-mouth has done nothing to you.” Miguel grabs your cheeks and smooshes them together, making all your words slur together.

“See, that’s what I’m talking about,” he groans, his head tilting upwards in exasperation. “You never know when to shut up, you always have something to say.”

You glare at him. You want to say something, but then you’d prove his point. He continues, sparing no attention to your restraint. Rude. Well then, if he’s just going to ignore you anyways, why bother?

“Y’know I have a reputation to uphold—“

“That sounds like a personal problem.” He glares at you, and you remember the position he has you in. Caged in between him and the wall, stuck between a rock and a hard place.

“It’s about to be your problem.” He lifts you easily over his shoulder and carries you across the room, dumping you unceremoniously onto the bed. “I think you need to be taught a lesson.”

As he sits down, you scramble over to the head of the bed, but Miguel grabs your ankle and yanks you back.

“Oh no, you don’t get to run. C’mere.” He manhandles you over his lap. You struggle against him, but it only works against you, like a spider’s prey working itself deeper into the web. Miguel is relentless and patient. He holds you down with one hand, waiting until you tire yourself out.

“Are you ready now?” At your silence, he continues. “Here’s what you’re gonna do: you’re going to take this spanking, like a good girl. And afterwards, you’re gonna say thank you.”

“This is ridiculous—“ You hissed after Miguel slapped your thighs, one after another in quick succession.

“I wasn’t finished. Be quiet.” He rubs the warmed skin gently before continuing. “You really have a problem with talking back. I think being on your knees will fix that. But first—“

He peels off your jeans but leaves your underwear, just enough that you ass was fully exposed. You feel like a schoolgirl getting paddled in the principal’s office. It is humiliating.

He groans, deep and guttural as he gropes your ass. “Dios mío, este culo.”

“Wait, hold on—“ He doesn’t. He strikes your right cheek, then your left. He does it over and over, in the same spot. He doesn’t stop, not when you arch your back, nor when you’re flailing your legs or even when your soft cries turn into low moans. “I can’t, Miguel. Please.”

He pauses. “Don’t pretend you’re not enjoying yourself, princesa.” He squeezes in-between your thighs and drags his two middle fingers across your slit. “Not when the evidence is dripping from your thighs.”

He shows you just how you enjoyed his attention by shoving his fingers into your mouth.

“Suck.” He fucks your throat with his long, thick fingers, making you gag and drool around them. “Good girl. Now I’m going to give you something bigger to choke on. Get on your knees.”

“No, Miguel. If you think I’m going to suck your dick like this, you’re insane.” You refuse adamantly.

“You just love to argue, huh baby?” Miguel just shakes his head. “Or maybe you just like being forced to do what you’re told. Either way, it doesn’t matter.”

He manhandles you once more, rearranging you until just your head hangs off of the bed. “I know just what you need.”

#marvel x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #fem!reader #smut #fanfic #fan fiction #spider man x reader #y/n #oscar isaac #oscar issac smut #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 smut #oscar issac characters

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neopuppy · 5 months

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I don't know if your hard hours are still open but the pic you posted for it is def giving like emo hot skater boy massive c!ck energy and idk maybe like a kinda cocky reader who doesn't believe skater boy jeno is hung and he has to show the reader (who might be acting like a brat) what they're missing 🫣 could be interesting I don’t know

warnings. unprotected public penetration, dubcon, Jaemin’s here for a show—and to film

————————————————

“He thinks he’s so cool.”

“That’s ‘cause he is.” Your friend drawls on dreamily, chin perched between her knees where you sit together along the skate bowl. “He’s in a band, he has tattoos, and he has a huge cock.”

With a loud sarcastic scoff you roll your eyes dramatically, piping up to talk down to her. “Oh yeah? Because you’ve seen it firsthand?!”

“No,” she says annoyed. “Not yet, but everyone knows Jeno’s packing! He talks about it all the time!”

“Exactly.” You bark, poking at her arm. “He talks about it all of the time, but that’s it. He’s nothing but talk, and if a guy really had all that going on, he wouldn’t need to brag like that loser does.”

“That’s not true, he has like— a reputation!” She fusses, sitting up to hang her legs along the inside of the pool. “Girls always gossip about how he leaves them feeling stretched for days. You’re just a hater.”

“He’s full of shit.” You continue to accuse, glaring at Jeno across the way flexing his arms and showing off his now completed sleeve with a cocky grin that’s growing larger by the second. “He’s so annoying, tiny dick bitch.”

“What’d you just say?!?”

Shit. Jaemin.

“Huh?” Playing dumb, you shoo him off, swiping your phone open to quickly change the topic.

Jaemin snatches the device from your grip, holding it over the bowl with threat to drop it to the concrete from a high point. “Hey! What the hell!” You shoot up, jumping to smack his arm and reach for your phone. “You asshole!”

“Who is a tiny dick bitch?” He grins, playfully pushing you away with a palm against your chest. “Hey Jeno!” He whistles, breaking apart the conversation his best friends’ been entertaining for the last 40 minutes.

“What?! Can’t you see that I’m busy!”

“You need to hear this!” Jaemin calls out, motioning for him to come close. Jeno grunts loudly, holding up a finger toward the swarm of girls drooling around him.

“One sec.” He trudges over annoyed, finally glancing at you, fast enough to miss before he shoots a glare at Jaemin. “What the fuck? I was about to leave and fuck—“

“With your tiny dick?” Jaemin laughs, winking at you. “Can you believe this brat’s going around telling everyone you got a little baby cock?”

“What?!?” Jeno’s face instantly hardens, flushing red up to his ears with anger before averting his attention to you. “What the fuck are you on about?!”

Jaemin clears his throat, pocketing your phone to grab his and pull open a video he just finished recording behind your back, proving everything you’d just said.

“Oh, I’m all talk?!” Jeno stalk’s forward, forcing your legs to move back and flicker your gaze away quickly for a fast escape. “Tiny dick bitch?!”

“Yeah! Shriveled up little pinky dick!” You shriek, breaking off into a run with Jeno and Jaemin fast to chase after you.

“Shitshitshit!” The only advantage you have is lack of weight on your back, having left your bag back at the skatepark hoping that your friend will have the decency to pick it up for you.

A bus pulls up just in time to jump on through the open back doors, hunched over too short of breath to notice Jeno and Jaemin pushing through the crowd from the front to find you hidden in the back corner. “God damnit.”

Jaemin’s tongue clicks, drawing your phone out between two fingers. “You don’t want this back?” He pouts, blinking tauntingly as Jeno rounds behind your back and presses up too close, leaving you with no choice but to be stuck sandwiched between them. “Damn you don’t even have a passcode on this.”

His eyes turn bright, unlocking your phone, working fast to open your photos and scroll through. “What the fuck.” He snorts, turning the screen toward Jeno. “Look at this shit, a whole album dedicated to you.”

“Jaemin, no!” You squeak, bubbling with embarrassment as Jeno reaches past you, slinking his other arm around your waist to keep you in place before he scrolls through the hundreds of screenshots from his socials.

“Aw, you’re really just mad you haven’t gotten to take my cock, huh?” Jeno leans in to whisper, chuckling against your ear. “You know it’s big.”

“You’re full of shit.” You snap, glaring from the corner of your eye at his flawless profile and sharp gaze scanning your face full of intrigue.

“Wanna find out for yourself?” The palm laid flat on your stomach strays to snatch your wrist and pull your arm behind your back, jerked forward as you resist only to collide with Jaemin’s broad chest. He smirks, wiggling eyebrows at you and opening up your phone’s camera, panning to your shocked face as Jeno places your hand against his heavy groin. “Your fucking hand can’t even cover my cock and you wanna call me small?”

“I said tiny.” You croak, doing your best to keep your fingers elongated and not squeeze around the bulge squished against your palm.

Jaemin laughs under his breath, directing the phone lower to film his fingers toying with the end of your skirt. “Come on Jeno.” He stands up straight, parting his legs open to barricade the space in front of you. “Slip it in real quick and let her find out just how tiny you are.”

Air gets caught in your throat, listening to Jeno hum in thought against your ear, drawing a long breath between his teeth. “That’s not a bad idea.” The sound of his zipper lowers, shoving your hand inside to rest along his thick girth, no boxers, nothing to separate your palm from hot smooth flesh lifted in different areas by what you can assume can only be large pulsing veins.

Large veins just like the ones lining Jeno’s sleek physique, rippling through his biceps even under the different shades and gradations of inked art running up and down his arm. He reaches forward to grip your chin and turn your face to the side, dark gaze locked on yours. “A lot of zoomed in shots in that album.”

He means the collection of his bulge and what you swore was a hard-on scattered within the album of his selfies and outfit shots, even the douchey shirtless gym mirror photos(because other than the lump between his thighs, those are your favorites).

“Think you can take it?” He slides over your hand, wrapping his long digits around to encase your palm around the base of his length, ripping a shocked(and elated) gasp from your lips. “Bet you can’t, you’d probably scream and cry to take it out before I even get 5 inches in.”

“Yeah.” Jaemin pipes in, holding your phone by your hips to get a shot of your hand lost inside his best friend's pants. “Talked a lot of shit back there, look at this mess.” He whistles again, tsk tsk tsking as he pushes your skirt up to film the shiny streaks trickling down your inner thighs. “If you’re this wet already, that only means one thing.”

“Cock slut.” Jeno bites, teeth clicking together as he gathers the back of your skirt up and fists your panties to one side harshly, popping the seams under his roughness.

“I can take your little cock.” You finally manage to speak, having to coat your throat with multiple gulps to make sure you don’t sound as pathetic as you feel. “Probably won’t even feel that shit.”

Jaemin’s mouth parts open shocked, panning to Jeno’s intense gaze, the veins along his throat quivering. “Just for that, I’ll make sure you take every inch.”

The bulbous tip of his length probes at your entrance, sliding past your slick wet hole between your folds to really make you feel just how wide he is. The fear and excitement of finally feeling Jeno’s cock firsthand and not vicariously through eavesdropping has your toes curling inside of your shoes, reaching to wrap your hands around his forearm tucked under your ribcage, digging your nails into the different colorful tattoos.

He presses in closer, forehead rolling against yours as he leads the tip back to your entrance and pokes in, rubbing the slit against your tense muscle. “Fuck, how am I supposed to fit inside this tight pussy?”

Jaemin swallows, turning the camera to selfie mode, holding it between your thighs to watch the close up view of his best friend's massive size forcing way past your tight hole. “Don’t think she can.” He says mostly to himself, enjoying the voyeuristic sensation more than he’d expected, cock twitching the longer he watches Jeno tease at your entrance.

“Put it in.” You mumble, near the brink of tears. “Put your stupid useless little cock inside of me already.”

Jeno’s entire expression turns furious, gripping the middle of his girth firmly to force the head of his length in despite the snapping resistance he’s met with. “Fuck.”

Kissing the backs of his teeth, he pauses to feel your muscle suck around him, pulsating rapidly as tears silently pass down your cheeks and your lips tighten shut to keep in a broken mewl. “Now, imagine that..” he struggles to say calmly, panting heavily against your ear. “But 9 more inches, buried all the way in. Nice and deep.”

Jaemin groans in agreement, tapping under your navel. “Right here.”

Jeno kneads under one of your breasts to quell the need to thrust further in, twitching as he counts each tear drop flowing down past your chin. “Imagine it.” He says, pulling the tip out with an obscene pop that garners the attention of a few bystanders who turn to look for less than a second.

He pats your exposed buttcheek, snapping your underwear back into place. “Because you’re never going to get it now sweetheart.”

#asks #nct hard hours #nct dream hard hours #nct smut #nct dream smut #jeno hard hours

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euaphoric · 7 months

Text

🕸️ KINKTOBER - DAY 2. 🕸️

Differences

[PAIRING] haechan x f!reader

[GENRE] college au, popular jock x loner, pwp [WARNINGS] angst?, smut, lowkey perv!hc, dry humping, premature ejaculation

summary: haechan was everything you’re not: popular, wealthy, multitalented, and otherworldly attractive. you despise people that get everything handed to them, wanting nothing to do with him— until you get paired up as partners for a project together…

wc -> 2.2k

A/N: so uhhh, this was very much not supposed to be this long but sometimes i just keep going and don’t know when to stop tbh .-. alsoo i hit 1k followers today thanks sm it rlly means a lot 🫶🫶

kinktober m.list

“fuckk, it’s pouring!” you shrill from the sudden heavy downpour, hovering your chemistry textbook over your head which barely shields anything. of course you didn’t predict these weather conditions (and didn’t bother to check your weather app beforehand) so you thought not to bring a jacket. it’s not like it was some light drizzle going on either, it was raining buckets outside— and you were so fucked. you pick up your speed, practically sprinting to the bus stop, completely forgetting that haechan was right behind this whole time. it honestly still hasn’t fully clicked in your mind that you were now lab partners and had to work together for the entire remaning semester. you weren’t thrilled about it, frankly, you were hoping anyone but haechan but since you have the worst possible luck known to existence, you got paired with him by a random draw. now you’re stuck with him for the next 3-4 months…

“damn, i think that’s the first time i’ve ever heard you curse,” haechan quickly catches up with you, taken aback by your choice of language, “wait- here, take this.” he pulls his football letterman jacket off his body, slinging it around your shoulders. “uh- no it’s okay, i’ll be fine.. don’t worry!” you shook your head to refuse but haechan just kept insisting, telling you how he was raised to be a ‘gentleman’ and it’d be morally wrong of him not to offer his jacket to a woman when it’s raining. “just take it y/n, it’s not gonna kill ya!” he promises, only satisfied once you finally cave in after numerous attempts going back and forth. you may have let him win this round but you definitely won’t be going easy on him next time, that’s for certain.

yeah haechan may be nice and all but that doesn’t make him a saint or any different than everyone else, he’s just a regular guy to you, nothing more or less. you’ve known him for a grand total of 2.5 days and on the first day of class you just so happened to be assigned as permanent lab partners with him — the most popular guy at uni practically. haechan was the topic of every girl’s discussion, whether it was wondering if he came from a loaded family, is single or has a girlfriend, or how he can afford a $4,500 pair of sneakers, theres always a spotlight drawn to him somehow. frankly you didn’t give a rat’s ass about any of that stuff, you didn’t care much to make a lot of friends nor socialize with everyone. ever since middle school you’ve preferred to be alone, it’s not something you’re embarrassed about, you just value your education more than temporary friendships.

when it was announced that you’d be partners with haechan word spread around quickly, you couldn’t stand attention being cemented on you but haechan simply thrived off that notion. he craved all the gossip about him because he’s an attention whore— at least, that was your impression of him when you first met. you personally have no interest in getting to know him further than finishing this project, he probably has dozens of girls in his phone he can call to hook up with every day if he wanted to. ‘it’s just for one semester y/n you can do this… you’ll be fine.’ you keep telling yourself over and over. after what felt like ages the bus finally came, saving you from standing in silence with him any longer than necessary. soon as the door opens you make a dash for it, scanning your bus pass and looking for a seat within the crowded aisles. there just so happened to be 2 free open seats near the back so you scurry to sit down as haechan follows, taking the seat next to yours.

just as you were about to put in your airpods and shut out the world, haechan turns over to ask something. “so.. why’d you want me to come to your dorm instead of mine?” his face gets unreasonably close to you, completely invading your personal space. “it’s just.. more quiet i guess.” you awkwardly reply, slowly backing away from his overbearing presence. you must admit though, whatever cologne he was wearing smelled really good. “why’re you assuming that my place would be loud? do me and my friends really seem like that much of obnoxious assholes?” he cocks his eyebrow, confused by your lack of enthusiasm. it’s not unusual for haechan to be uninterested in someone but it’s pretty rare for him to find the opposite. the more you push him away the more he wants to know about you, your cold personality fueled a burning desire inside that he hasn’t felt in ages. it’s like having a one-sided crush, he enjoys the chase of going after what’s unattainable, he loves a challenge.

˖⁺‧₊˚ᰔᩚ˚₊‧⁺˖

“have you always been this quiet your whole life?” haechan proceeds to bother you yet again while you’re writing notes for the project down. you thought flat out ignoring him would work in your favor, he’s already asked about five questions already and you’ve yet to answer any of them — he doesn’t give up as easy as you thought however. “no seriously, did i do something? is there a reason why you act so cold towards me?” there he fucking goes again. if he actually paid attention he’d notice that you don’t exclusively treat him any differently than everyone else, you didn’t want a partner for this project and rather work on it alone from the start. he’s so full of himself that he can’t even fathom the idea of someone not wanting to shower every ounce of their undying love and attention for him. “god… do you ever shut up?” you lowly mutter under your breath, getting up from your table to go grab something. thankfully you don’t think he heard you, all you got in return was a simple “huh?” still not acknowledging his other questions, you come back with a pumpkin spice candle, setting it on your window sill to light it. you may or may not have a slight obsession with candles, you’ve hoarded so many to the point you lost count but since it’s fall why not bring out your favorite scent of the season. plus it’ll ventilate the room so you don’t have to be reminded of haechan’s strong cologne, which you actually liked but refuse to give his already inflated ego such a compliment.

after an hour or so of drafting outlines for the project you take a break to get some water, coming back to your motionless partner with a bored look on his face. he made a few contributions but you mostly did the work, which you don’t mind doing anyway since you’re confident in your academic abilities. you’ve been sensing haechan’s eyes on you all night, as you took a sip from the glass you feel the most intense awkwardness, you’re hoping he asks something dumb at this point. “are you a virgin?” he blurts out on a whim. you almost spit out your water, there’s no way in hell he just asked you that. “wait— w-what?” all of a sudden you’re a flustered mess and can’t talk properly, why would he want to know something so personal like that anyway? “ah, so you do talk!” haechan belts out a chuckle, gloating in his small victory, “i just wanted a reaction out of ya and finally got it!” you wanted to wipe that smirk clean off his face, maybe you were right to call him a pretentious asshole the first day you met. “y’know i can report you to the board for asking your lab partner weird sexual questions, right?” you try your best to sound intimidating but it doesn’t seem to faze him one bit, instead he continues leaning in closer. “stop pretending like you don’t secretly like it,” your skin collects goosebumps when his palm lands on your thigh, “‘cause for someone who supposedly doesn’t like me is acting awfully comfy with me right now.” his grin widens as he looks down, you couldn’t believe your eyes when you realize both your legs were intertwined together under the table.

you shriek in a panic, scooting your chair away to the far end of the table, “in your fucking dreams. i actually don’t, perv.” scoffing at his boldness, this is definitely a guy who thinks he can have his way with anyone he wants. even if you did find him attractive that still doesn’t mean you inherently want to sleep him. his face is really pretty though, like way above average, you 100% get why he’s so popular and some part of you wants to find out what all the hype’s about. a little test drive wouldn’t hurt anything, right? “awe, you sound so cute when you swear,” he teases, yet again moving close to you with no regards of personal space, “would sound better if you were moaning it as i fill you up with my cock.” his eyes stare at your lips intensely, wanting more than anything to violently make out with you. that last sentence shouldn’t have made you as wet as it did, but you couldn’t help yourself anymore, you were done trying to fight it. as your lips crash into his, a surge of heat rushes through your body, tilting your head slightly sideways to gain more access. his soft lips felt buttery smooth against yours, melting instantly as he brings his hands to wrap around your waist firmly.

as you run your fingers along the entirety of his length, slowly rubbing his shaft through his jeans. you hear how pretty he sounds when he moans, loving every bit of it in your ear. you keep stroking and feeling haechan’s cock, choosing when to go slow or fast. it made you undoubtedly wet knowing someone like you could turn him on, feeling how stiff his cock got soon as you touched him, pulsating in the palm of your hand. his face scrunches as if he just sucked on a lemon, erratically rutting his hips up as his breathing gets heavier. “ah- shiiit..” he was so far gone, gritting his teeth from the intense pleasure when he suddenly jerks up from out of your grasp. “dammit, dammit, dammit” he whispers under his breath, you strike a confused look when he flinches from you trying to touch him again. it doesn’t make sense how eager he was just a minute ago but is now doing a literal 180. “i already came..” the guilt and embarrassment was apparent in his voice. how could a girl like you even make a guy cum just from simply touching them? he’s definitely had much more experience than you ever will. “i’m not a virgin, are you?” you decide to finally entertain his question, you’ve got nothing left to lose anymore. he definitely wasn’t expecting that answer at all, he was really hoping he could be your first. “yeah, me neither, but you sure do make me feel like one again ..” this is probably the first time something like this has ever even happened to him.

for the past 15 minutes you’ve been grinding up and down against haechan to get his dick hard again, which didn’t take long to do at all. closing your eyes in pleasure as his teeth grazed your skin, biting gently on the sweet spot of your neck. “nnghh~” you mewl, feeling so needy and helpless at the moment, all you could do was continue sensually rolling, massaging, and rubbing your aching core onto his clothed crotch. you really did want more but you couldn’t give it all up too easily, this is all he’s getting from you until you officially say so. “fuck.. feels ssoo gooood..” haechan groans, hips bucking at any slightest movement you make, he needs to fuck your tight cunt so bad. “y-yeah, feels good? wan’ m-more?” you brace your shaky hands on both his shoulders for leverage, feeling the tent in his pants stiffen as you rock your hips in sync with his. the fact you two were acting like some animals in heat, going at it and humping each other fully clothed was surreal to you. it had to be that intoxicating cologne he wore that reeled you in. as you were whimpering and crying out to him, haechan keeps expressing how much he needs you, how badly he wants to be inside. “need this throbbing little cunt to swallow my cock like right now.. i wanna be buried so deep inside.. need to feel your walls clench as you twitch and cum around my shaft, pretty please…” he grunts, already completely whipped and ready to risk it all for you. it didn’t take much for him to cum the second time either, granted he lasted longer than the first time but still wasn’t his best. the way you roll your hips and moan out his name was enough to get the blood rushing through his veins, pushed to his breaking point once again.

you came with him the second time, tangling your fingers in his messy brown hair. a string of curses leave your mouth as you chase your high, still slowly grinding on top of him as you rest your head on his shoulder. “now i understand why you’re so quiet..” he murmurs, veiny hands still finding purchase around your delicate waist. you of course wondered why, which he simply responded with “‘cause your actions do all the talking for you instead.”

#kinktober 2023 #haechan smut #haechan drabbles #haechan x f reader #haechan x reader #lee donghyuck x reader #lee donghyuck smut #nct smut #nct x reader #nct x female reader #haechan imagines

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kaicubus · 1 year

Text

Show, Not Tell | Xavier T.

warnings ✩° : semi-nsfw, jealousy, slight possessive behavior, cursing, xavier being protective, hickeys//markings, manhandling, mentions of size difference, non canon character named marlon flirting with you.

pairing ✩° : boyfriend!xavier thorpe x girlfriend!reader

premise ✩° : xavier isn't jealous, not for the most part at least. until he sees how you talk with your classmate and his sparring partner, marlon. did you always smile like that with everyone or was it just marlon? doesn't matter. xavier’s pissed.

word count ✩° : 2.9k

authors note ✩° : guys i am sick. i cannot breathe. i miss the taste of food.

What was it about Marlon Acheron that made it so easy for you to talk to him? Was it the fact he was more popular than Xavier? Or was it his piercing red eyes, shaded with the dark lenses of sunglasses that intrigued you? Maybe it was the hair that was slicked back with a glossy finish from his stupid cinnamon scented hair gel. Or maybe it was all those things combined.

But Xavier is your boyfriend. Not Marlon. He knew his place in your heart, so why was it that every time his eyes scanned the room to find you, Marlon just so happened to catch you first and steal you away from him? Did you always smile like that with everybody or was it just Marlon? Didn’t matter. Xavier’s pissed.

At first, you thought you encouraged him to push though practice and were beyond happy to see him progressing so well. Even his instructor agreed he’s been on top of his practice and would soon topple Bianca for first place in rank. That was until you realized who his sparring partner was.

Marlon Acheron.

Marlon’s your classmate, not necessarily friend nor foe, and certainly not a guy you could call up and spend a few hours with at the Weathervane like any other of your friends. He was just there most of the time, in class and in the halls. But you did notice that he would give you some sort of special treatment.

Whether it was saying hi to you first when you entered the training room, striking up some hollow conversation just to stall you from going to see your boyfriend, or accidentally ‘forgetting’ something that he’d ask you to retrieve for him. It was always his glasses so you found it strange that he could forget something so important nearly every other day.

Being the sweetheart you are, you thought there was nothing wrong with how he was acting. Plus, you forget things all the time so it’s not so different with him.

But Xavier is the complete opposite. He knows exactly what Marlon’s intentions are, they're all so obvious to him.

“No one forgets their glasses like he does. Especially not a vampire.” Xavier says when the two of you are alone after his fencing practice, “He asks you to get his shit every day. Can’t he ask someone else, like why does it HAVE to be you?”

“I forget things too, Xavier. I’m sure he’s just got better things to worry about like trying to actually get a chance to beat you when you two go at it. It’s not like they're prescription anyways, he said his eye sight is fine.”

Your boyfriend rolls his eyes and goes back to etching charcoal onto the canvas in front of him. Recently, he’d come to his secret shed with you so you both can have alone time and so that he can draw. He’d never tell you but another reason for these ‘dates,’ as he called them, were partially because of Marlon.

“He doesn't leave you alone, Y/n. It’s like he’s stuck to you like a stupid dog. It doesn’t even make sense because he’s a VAMPIRE.” Xavier exhales sharply, blowing some excess black dust off his work space, “It’s past the point where friends do that. Not even I did that before we got together, which is saying a lot because I was way more obsessed with you before.”

You lean back on the extra stool next to his chair and give him a nonchalant shrug, “Yeah, you’re right. But what’s your deal with him? Why are you so mad whenever we talk to him or when you’re sparring with him during fencing practice? It’s like you’re trying to kill him out there, you could at least give him a break.”

“Give him a break?” Xavier scoffs and turns to face you, “He slacks off every time we practice and when he finally thinks it’s time to actually practice, you walk in like some angel through the doors and suddenly all of his attention is on you.”

You stare at him for a moment, taking a mental note of his tight lipped frown and a glimpse of irritation in his shaking legs, “What do I have to do with any of that? I come to watch you. Your instructor said I should keep coming because you do best when I’m there, so I can’t just stop showing up.”

“Oh come on.” His brows fall flat on his face as he moves his head down just a bit, expressing his disappointment, “Y/n, the guy’s head over heels in love with you. You don’t see anything wrong with the way he acts?” Xavier stabs the end of the pencil back to the paper and aggressively whisks his hand over the art, smudging the side of his hand black.

"I guess it’s weird, but it’s not like he’s outwardly flirting with me. You know? Like I said, he’s probably just forgetful. Extremely...forgetful.” Even you can’t excuse Marlon’s behavior. Your attempt, however, only sours Xavier’s mouth as he shrivels his expression in disgust.

Xavier sticks out his chin, unintentionally showing off his cutting edge jaw to the side, and groans, “Maybe you should stop talking to him. Just ignore him when you come visit. Y/n I am this close to bashing his brains out if he keeps on doing this shit,” he holds up two fingers that are just about to touch, “It pisses me off how he always steals you before I can even say hi. Next thing I know he’s basically on top of you, asking you all these stupid questions like, ‘Y/n what do you think of my uniform?’ ‘Y/n can you feel my helmet to make sure its on right?’ ‘Y/n say épée.’ It’s sad, actually.”

You let out a much needed sigh and slouch down, “I don’t want to stop talking to him, he’s nice. But yeah, I wish there was a way to get him to stop or to show him I’m not interested.”

He thinks for a moment, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek, while moving his leg in one place. “I guess...no...” He lets out a quick breath, “What would make Marlon leave you the fuck alone...”

“You know, I’m picking up some jealousy...”

Xavier shoots you a glare, “Yeah, right.” but then suddenly raises his brows, “I think have an idea.”

You watch as he puts up his pencil, postponing his continuation of his sketch, and prop himself up more on the seat. Confused, you massage the side of your neck and glance attentively at his change in posture.

“Sit here.” Xavier grins, tapping his legs, inviting you to take a seat, “If Marlon’s going to act like you don’t have a boyfriend, I’ll just show him who you belong to and why he can’t ever have you."

Body moving on it’s own, you make your way towards him and plant yourself directly on top of his waist, grounding yourself by shifting side to side to find the perfect balance.

“And how are you going to do that?” You’re almost scared to ask, but the look on his face suggests something you don't even expect before it comes out of his own mouth.

“We have to show him you’re mine, not tell him. He won’t get it otherwise.” Xavier looks at you with sly eyes, teeth poking just barley from his lips, “I’m just saying, people like him don’t catch hints too easily. So it’ll be a sort of, slap in the face when he sees his perfect Y/n with hickeys all over her neck and down.”

You quickly open your mouth in surprise, “Oh that’s what we’re doing? I kinda thought you were going to brand me or something.”

“I mean...” Xavier looks to the side and chuckles deeply, “Nah, I’m joking. I do however want to do the whole hickey thing. I think that way he’d get it.” He holds up a finger and touches the front of your neck with the end of his nail, sending shivers all throughout your body as he turns his head to get a full view of his new canvas. “Yeah,” Your boyfriend wets his lips with the tip of his tongue, “That’d work really good actually.”

When you scoot yourself further onto him, you can feel the both of his palms barley cushion the underside of your thighs as a small grin pulls the corner of your lips up. “Really?” You tease, “You sure this has nothing to do with you being jealous?”

“Oh yeah, positive.” Xavier jostles his knee beneath you to scoot you even closer, “You think I’d be threatened by Marlon Acheron of all people? I’m offended, babe.”

You give a small laugh before gently holding the sides of his face and caressing the back of his head, combing your fingers lightly through his long hair, “Yeah? Well you should be. I’m surprised you haven't told him off yet.”

“You see how I spar with him,” Xavier moves his head to the side and kisses your collarbone, “I want to kill him for it, but I figured you wouldn't like that all too much.”

You roll your head to the side, granting him full access to your skin, and smile, “Hard to believe when all you've been doing is just carelessl-ly, trying to cut him.”

As you talked, Xavier wasn't too focused on the words coming out of your mouth. He knew all you were doing was trying to irritate him more so that he could handle you more roughly, but he had a little more class than that. Or so he thought. Truth is, he is better than no man when it comes to you.

Before he knows it, tasting the softness and sweetness of your skin quickly becomes an addiction he isn't quite ready to quit. Everything taste from warm notes of light amber to the freshness of a freshly picked rose, he can’t get nearly as much as he wants from a surface level skin kiss.

So he kisses harder. Licking and sucking down your neck, grazing the tips of his teeth and sharp canines along you as well.

“Wait, X-Xavier—” You groan just barely audible and tug on his locks with an even tighter hold than before.

Too focused on you, he doesn't respond and just continues to thrust his tongue over the gradually building bruises. Even though at this point you begin to move away from him in an attempt to stop him from darkening the marks beyond repair, he pulls you right back into place and moves onto another spot of vulnerable, untainted skin.

“H-Hah...X-Xavier...” A satisfactory moan as well as his name escapes from your throat so you bite your lip to suppress it as best as possible.

There was no thought of sparing you from weird stares you were sure to get from classmates, Xavier just imagined what Marlon would say or what he’d look like if he saw you, his seemingly perfect Y/n with marks made by his sparring partner. Xavier grinned at the thought.

As you manage, unsuccessfully, to keep your back straight and hands from roaming his body, it becomes hard to ignore the fluttery feeling building low in your stomach. His hand placement just over your hips, the way his neediness has somehow manifested it’s way into his mouth, and his panting complete with your own are all telltale signs that if this goes on for longer, you both wouldn’t last.

His tongue rolls harshly over the side of your neck, generously saturating your thin and sensitive skin under his suctioned lips with his saliva. You can’t help but squirm in his tight embrace, his fingers digging so hard into your hips you're convinced that they'll leave a mark as well, trying to hold you down on one place on his thigh.

“Stay still.” You can feel him grunt against your skin, “I’m not done yet.” Though his tone is demanding, you can feel the effects of his desperation ricocheting against his teeth. Or rather, his tongue, judging by his heavy breathing and increasingly deeper and longer licks he does.

“H-How many more?” The question comes out in a fleeting pant, trying to catch your breath, “How much are you going to d-do?” It was already impossible to stay put, you don't know how much more you can take if he keeps it up at this pace.

“Enough so Marlon can lay off.” With that, Xavier roughly squeezes your waist and lifts you up enough so that you're higher up on his thigh now, both your legs locked in between his own kneecaps. For a brief moment, you're met with the chill breeze of the airy shed hitting your wet skin, but it doesn't last long as Xavier pushes himself right back to his original position, earning himself a surprised gasp from you.

With his lips properly latched onto your jugular, he continues at an even deeper force and runs the tip of his tongue back over the already sensitive areas he’d previously marked. His extra bit of attention sends your mind spiraling. Of course, hes not fair either and only applies a bit of pressure from just the tip of his tongue.

“Xavi-ier...don’t make them so dark...” You gasp out, “I still have classes to go to, remember?”

“So?” His breath fans against your damp skin, “What if I want everyone to see?” He bites harder and laps up the remainder your scent off of you, messily bruising you more so that blooms of his intimacy can be seen miles away.

Your face flushes, “A-Are you almost done?”

“Almost.”

When he finally plucks his mouth from your neck, making a quick ‘pop’ sound before wiping his sleeve over his darkened lips, he pulls away and just stares. Just by looking at him, you can tell he’s proud of his work. Not the actual work he was supposed to finish, but the dark splotches of red and purple that littered all from the start of your jaw, down to just above the start of your chest. They're like trophies to him.

Most of all, he’s proud of just how worked up he somehow managed to get you. Just by the sight of you, your heavily blushed face, glossy and squinted eyes, and parted lips due to excessive hard breathing made him want to mark you more, in other places. But the ones on your neck would have to suffice, even if hidden ones only he could see would excite him more than the ones he could show off to some insignificant person.

Before you could even utter a breath of relief, a smirk slowly appears on your boyfriends face, only making you more nervous, “That should do it,” Xavier says, “How do you feel?”

“Like my entire neck is purple.” You laugh, pushing up the hair that had fallen over his face.

He chuckles, shaking his head, “Unfortunately, it’s not. But I can do that if that’s what you want?”

You grab his face again and mash your lips together with his, “Nice thought, Xavier, but I think this is plenty.”

He hugs you tighter, “Whatever you say. We should uh, we should go show him, shouldn’t we?”

You grin, “Maybe later, I still have to tell you what Marlon said to me yesterday.”

Walking into the next practice of the fencing team, you strut down the well lit hall with your neck not nearly hidden as you’d hoped. Since everyone knew you were bound to show up sooner or later, no one really paid any mind to you walking in. Thankfully.

But Marlon and Xavier did.

When you look past Marlon and straight at Xavier, you can feel his eyes on you. This time, they weren't on your face or on your skirt like usual, instead they were plastered onto your neck and all of the hickeys that had remained just as dark as Xavier made them to be yesterday.

You can hear a small scoff from behind you, so you turn around and see Marlon standing, waiting for you to have some sort of explanation for the mockery of his affection.

“Y/n.” He holds his helmet between his arm and lodged against his hip, “Good to see you.”

Xavier watches as you walk up to Marlon, this time feeling more confident than ever. “Hey Marlon,” You smile, as per usual, “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Question, did you get beaten up by someone?” Marlon points at your neck.

“Oh no, no my boyfriend kinda...” Your voice trails slowly, searching for the much needed reaction for both you and Xavier, “...yeah...”

Marlon nods slowly, tucking his lips under each other and furrowing his brow, “Right. I just thought you know, you getting my glasses all the time and us having a ton of inside jokes, that we had something.” The vampire spits, “I guess not.”

“You know it’s really funny you say that, Marlon, because actually,” Suddenly, Xavier appears next to you and throws his arm over your shoulders, “We are most definitely a ‘thing’. Didn’t know if that really clicked in your head but,” Xavier points to his head, “We are.”

#wednesday #wednesday addams #wednesday netflix #wednesday xavier #xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe fanfic #xavier thorpe x y/n #xavier thorpe x you #xavier thorpe fic #jealousy fic #jealous xavier thorpe #jealousy #kaicubus

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radiance1 · 7 months

Text

The members of the Justice League sat in silence, joined by a few members of Justice League Dark.

They were almost ready to start their meeting.

Almost.

"Where is John Constantine?" Batman stared at those gathered around the table, one spot currently vacant. Zatanna spoke up. "He's coming."

Batman narrowed his eyes.

"I don't know how," Zatanna nodded. "But he's coming."

The table was silent for a few moments, before Superman hesitantly spoke up. "Maybe he's running late?" At Batman's look Superman felt the need to add. "You know, he could've gotten stuck up with another magic user, or something."

Superman brought a hand up to rub at his neck as he laughed awkwardly, before promptly shutting up at the look Batman sent with an even more awkward smile. The silence was notably loud, such that it made it quite easy to determine who and where the sound of crunching came from.

Flash swallowed. "What?" He dug his hand in the bag of chips, only to pout at it being empty. He quickly ran from and to his seat in, well, a flash. Laying down his armful of chips, he picked up one and opened it, back to stuffing his face. "It's not like we're starting yet or anything."

Batman's eyes narrowed.

Flash blinked, looking down at the chips in his hand, the one on the table, and then back at Batman. He picked one up and held it out in his direction. "Want one?"

Batman glared.

Flash hesitantly brought his hand back down, before sticking his hand in his chip bag and eating some more, this time quietly.

Minutes passed by with the various League members gathered around sitting ramrod straight. A few more minutes passed, and they started to relax (except batman), a couple more and some of them started up conversation with each other, with some others joining in.

Batman took the time to work through a few files, giving the occasional grunt and hm whenever Superman and Wonder Woman tried to drag him into their conversation.

It was then that a noticeable heat spread inside the room, rising in temperature with each passing second until it was no longer ignorable. Just then, when the heat reached its highest point, with the members of the League already standing from their seats, a wave of black flame appeared in a circular pattern and the League tensed, magic gathering at the fingertips of some and battle stances being fallen into by others.

The circular flame shot up, high enough to reach the ceiling and not a second later, in its place was a giant mass of flaming feathers curled into a ball.

A groan came from the middle of it, and a few seconds later-with what sounded like a huff- did the mass uncurl just enough to see the owner of said groan.

"Ello." John Constantine raised a hand and gave a two fingered salute. Everyone in the room blinked at the man currently leaning against the- creature? Being?- in just pants. "I would say this isn't what it looks like, but its exactly what it looks like."

Zatanna's eyes narrowed, before she inhaled sharply. "Constantine." She hissed out quietly, as if trying not to draw the being's attention. "What is-" She gestured at the creature. "-He of all beings doing here?!"

"Being used as a living heater."

Zatanna blinked again in surprise as she stumbled over her words. "I- what-?"

"You heard me. It's colder than Santa's tits in our house, and I'm not paying even more money for a heater when I have a living one right here." Constantine deadpanned, very shamelessly sinking back into the mass of feathers behind him and giving a most certainly exaggerated sigh to prove his point.

"But- But he's," Zatanna gestures at the phoenix again, this time with both hands. "Him. How are you okay with this!?" That time she spoke to the phoenix, rather than Constantine.

The being in question peeked open an eye, before huffing in annoyance and closing back its eye.

"So uh," Flash spoke up, rubbing his hands together. "Not to interrupt, but uh, do you mind explaining for the rest of us not in the know?"

Zatanna blinked, staring at the other League members in surprise as if she forgot they were there. She awkwardly coughed into her fist. "Right, yes." She cleared her throat, before gesturing towards the giant mass of feathers. "That being is one of the more infamous of those heralding from the Infinite Realms, because that's its goddamn Duke." Zatanna rubbed her head, as if she were getting a migraine just thinking about it. "Constantine, how did you even-"

"We met on a rainy night, and he lit up my cig and proposed his love for me." Constantine said simply.

The League stared in bafflement. Zatanna had a skeptical look all over her face. "I'm not believing that. It's too much of a stretch, even for you."

Constantine shrugged. "Okay so would you believe me if I said I sold like half my soul and conned this other guy by swearing my soul to this big guy for his protection?" Constantine deadpanned.

"Yes, actually." Zatanna matched Constantine's deadpan with a look of her own.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #dcxdp #Unknown to literally everyone else #The first sentence Constantine said was actually the truth #The other one is a bold face lie #My crackship might not exactly be just a joke anymore...#Everyone else didn't notice how Constantine said Our instead of his #Except Batman.#He likes to hyperfocus on miniscule details for some reason

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hxltic · 10 months

Text

imagine having an attitude w miguel o’hara

Even though he’s quick to anger, and very easily irritated, he’s never had that problem with you. You were his treatment in a way. You always dealt with people in a more kind manner, so he just lets you speak until you’ve given him permission, but today it seems as though the roles have reversed.

It’s even more angering with the fact that he just can’t seem to take you seriously, your cheeks bursting red with anger and fists unconsciously clenching, but he just leans against the wall, staring at you. Through you, almost. To be fair, whatever you were mad at you would probably get over later. But that wasn’t the point. You were angry and pissed off.

And you also hadn’t seen him in a relative amount of time; Spiderman work wasn’t easy. This was something you’d come to accept when you got with him, and you don’t mind being alone, but somehow it’s brought itself to matter in this very moment.

So how did you end up bent over as he plowed into you from behind? His brain pieced together that you just needed some dick. Whenever you two were intimate in any way, the next day he’d see you extra happy, beaming even, and the memories would flash in your head every now and then.

Of course, when he kissed you the first time, you pushed him off and said he was deflecting.

He doesn’t really run away from his problems, but this one could wait.

“You’re givin’ me the silent treatment, you can’t still be mad at me amor?”

Truth be told, you were quiet because you couldn’t speak. Your neck was upright, your throat dragging back and forth on the bed sheets, and your arms were forced back into his large, calloused hands. Your eyes fall closed when you grunt in response.

If he was being honest, this wasn’t even his favorite part. It was watching the scowl on your face dissipate into ecstasy and the irritated deep sighs transform into moans each time you came.

He rectifies his position by adjusting his foot placement and dropping his tight hold to your wrists, effectively finding a deeper way into you. It was messy and rough, the stickiness around where the two of you meet and the reddening skin pure evidence. Miguel bent his body over yours so your back was flush with his carved chest.

A muffled sound fell into the bed with every snap of his hips. His hair slightly stuck to his face when he forced his mouth into your right shoulder, digging his sharp canines past your skin. Not enough to draw blood, but it hurt and left a mark nonetheless. He sucked the skin and kissed it as if soothing. The senses were too much combined with your low pain tolerance, compelling tears to swell in buds.

He groans, “Not so upset now are you? If it was dick you wanted, you could’ve just said so.” He adds, “fuck, eres una belleza.”

You couldn’t even snap back. With this he flipped you over and spread your legs wide. Before you had the time to look down, his pink tongue was sliding through your folds eagerly.

“Miguel wait-“ you attempt breathlessly, but it was no good. He ate like he’s never eaten before: pushing his face between your thighs and wrapping the plush of them over his shoulders to press both palms on your abdomen. He shook his head sloppily, continuing regardless of your pleas.

The man wasn’t satisfied until the slick of you was dripping down his chin and coating his nose. Your back arched off the bed as you came, allowing those tears to fall in streams to your ears. Of course, he continued to slurp and suck and moan as you twist your hips in an escape to shake him off, but those muscles weren’t just for show. He only moved with you and gripped harder, almost taunting you, or giving you permission to try and escape from him. You couldn’t.

It wasn’t until you were pleading for him that he considered giving you mercy.

“MiguelMiguelMiguel- fuck! c-come off please,” you’d beg, accompanied by a futile effort to push his arms away. Like he was shaking his head no, he’d shake into you.

“mmphh.”

©️hxltic

i don’t speak spanish spare me

#miguel spiderman #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x y/n #miguel x reader #miguel x you #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #miguel smut #spider man #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara smut

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azsazz · 2 months

Text

Midnight Muse (Epilogue)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,783

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17] [Part 18] [Part 19] [Part 20] [Part 21] [Part 22] [Part 23] [Part 24] [Part 25] [Masterlist]

Notes: The end of an era 😭😭 Holy smokes I'm so happy and also sad I cannot believe it's over.

_________________________________________

**Seven Months Later**

“Azriel,” you sing-song, bursting in through the open front door to their house.

At the end of the spring semester Azriel’s father had bought 3rd Street apartments, and none of you had renewed your leases. His father hadn’t even tried to convince him to stay, but that didn’t matter to Azriel. The only thing that any of the five of you seemed to care about was that you’d no longer be living next to each other come summer.

Azriel, Rhysand, and Cassian had found a house to rent on the outskirts of campus. Of course, the place is gorgeous, a modern number that looks like it costs more than Rhysand is making it out to be. He’d been adamant about the three of them staying together, no matter what, and he’d tried to convince you and Feyre to move into another apartment nearby, but it wasn’t the right fit for either of you.

You wanted something more homey than the new building, something walkable since you nor Feyre have cars. You already miss your old apartment dearly, saddened by what Azriel’s father is going to make it into. Sure, the elevator was a death trap that stuck, and sure, the walls were thinner than paper, but it was home, where you’d found love with your grumpy next door neighbor, though you’re sure in Azriel’s version of the story you were the grumpy one.

The five of you had spent your last night at the building together, drinking and eating your heart content in waffles and ice cream from Rita’s. It was the perfect last night to end your time in the building, but also the semester. You passed your Drawing 101 final with flying colors, the half swan portrait you drew was something you’d never thought you’d be able to finish. Now, it’s one of your most treasured artworks.

You’d chosen the swan because of their representation of the awakening of the power of self and self-esteem. When you’d started the semester you’d been unsure of your ability in the creative world, but after hearing the stories of so many around you, Azriel’s included, it awakened your inner artist, and your work only grows more confident by the day.

You’d also chosen to morph yourself with the swan because of their grace. Grace in dealing with others; Azriel’s gnarly attitude, Cassian’s cheekiness, Rhysand’s cockiness, Lucien’s snark, and Feyre’s hidden relationship, which didn’t last long, but still hurt your friendship.

You’ve come a long way since then, and are now in love with the neighbor that had been a thorn in your side for months. Azriel is as sweet as ever now, though he still distracts you from your work these days, but it’s no longer with rowdy music.

You turn towards the living room where you hear Azriel calling your name. You come to a screeching half at the sight of him and Cassian, chests bare as they carry a couch between them, moving further into the room.

Your eyes zero in on Azriel, his tan chest glistening with effort. It’s move in day for them and they’ve been carrying boxes from 3rd Street apartments all morning. He looks godly in the light spilling in through the large glass windows overlooking the yard. The parties at this place are going to be insane this year, of that you know. It’s all Cassian has talked about since they’d signed the lease, commenting how their housewarming party is going to rival that of Project X.

“Hey, princess,” Azriel winks at your wandering eyes and you can only beam. So what if he’s caught you admiring his chiseled torso? He’s all yours and you can stare if you please. Although, the sudden dampness between your legs has you shifting on your feet, Azriel’s smirk widening.

“Can you two stop eye-fucking for one minute?” Cassian groans dramatically, acting like he’s struggling under the weight of the couch. You and Azriel both roll your eyes at the same time, which makes you burst into giggles. “This thing is fucking heavy.”

“All right, let’s put it over here,” Azriel directs, guiding them a few more feet into the room. They place it in front of the giant TV Rhysand splurged one, and you know movie nights are going to be great in here. It’ll be just like you’re at a movie theater, without all of the extra bodies.

You and Azriel still have yet to break in the couch, often choosing the privacy of his bedroom (as much as the thin walls give you) over the common rooms he shares with his roommates.

Speaking of, there’s a thump coming from upstairs and the sound of Feyre’s laughter drifting down the staircase. So maybe this new house isn’t that much more private than your old apartment.

As soon as he puts his end of the couch down you’re flinging yourself into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck. Azriel laughs and swings you around before planting your feet back on the ground and leaning over to kiss you silly.

The flooding warmth throughout your body only intensifies as he steps closer, pressing his body into yours and rolling his hips a little, allowing you to feel his interested cock in his pants.

“Hi,” you grin when you part.

Azriel’s gold eyes glitter with amusement. “Hi, princess. How is your morning?”

Your hands snake down his chest, brushing over his nipples as you go. You don’t miss his reaction to your touch and it makes you giddy all over again. Hooking your fingers into the waistband of his pants, your smile turns sultry, watching his eyes darken. “Much better now.”

“Is that so?” Azriel quirks an eyebrow. He looks like he’s two seconds away from dragging you upstairs to his new room and breaking it in. You wouldn’t mind that one bit. “Do I want to know why you’re this cheery this early in the morning?”

“You already know,” you beam, rolling onto the tips of your toes to kiss him on the nose. When you try to pull away Azriel growls, tightening his grip on you.

“You can’t say that and not want me to fuck you, princess,” he says roughly, leaning down to whisper in your ear. His breath is hot across the shell and you shudder in his arms, eyelashes fluttering at his words. You have to swallow back the moan threatening to escape.

You startle at the sound of a loud crash, turning to see Cassian all but glaring at the two of you, having just dropped a box of books to the ground purposefully.

“I thought we were supposed to be moving,” Cassian tosses over his shoulder and yells up the stairs, “I can’t have both roommates fucking already. There’s still so much shit to move!”

“I’m coming,” Rhysand yells back and you crinkle your nose.

“Ew.”

It makes Cassian crack, a smile twitching at his lips. He has his hands on his hips and is still staring at you and Azriel in a false stern manner. “I knew I made a good decision to befriend you, (Y/N).”

“More like forced yourself into my life,” you grumble playfully, following him out to his Bronco, stuffed full with boxes.

“Just for that, I’m giving you a heavy box,” he teases right back, but he wasn’t kidding because your breath is nearly knocked from your chest when he hands you one. It’s falsely labeled ‘Az’s room’ on it because it feels like there’s a pile of bricks in it.

Azriel glares at his roommate as he rids you of the heavy box. You give him a smile in thanks, sneakily sliding out a box labeled ‘couch pillows’ instead. It takes you back to the day that you and Feyre moved into your last apartment, how the living room box had been the last one you’d brought inside before your very first—and terrible—run in with Azriel.

The smile you wander inside with is a nostalgic one.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

“Are you ready?”

“Yes!”

“Then why are you acting like I’ve already put the needle to your skin?” Azriel argues, sitting back in his chair.

You’re laid up on the table, shirt pulled up to your neck, waiting for Azriel to put the tattoo gun to your skin. You keep squirming, not quite comfortable on the cold table top, but it’s the best he can do while he’s still waiting to hear back about his apprenticeship he interviewed for last week. It’s been a few long, grueling days, and you thought you’d distract him by finally allowing him to give you your first tattoo. It had taken you months to decide, and Azriel hadn’t pushed you once about the matter, no matter how badly he’d wanted to put ink on your skin.

Now, the sound of the gun is making you rethink your decision.

You sigh loudly and Azriel shuts the gun off, placing it on the table. He rips the gloves from his hands and helps you sit up, guiding your shirt back into place.

“Maybe we should wait,” he suggests softly, though you can see the hurt in his eyes.

It’s not that you don’t trust him. No, you trust Azriel with your life. It’s that you’re overthinking the design you’d thought you wanted so badly.

“I want one,” you huff, sadly, “But I don’t think this is the one.”

Azriel soothes his hands up your thighs. “That’s okay, princess. There’s no rush. You don’t even have to get one, if you don’t want to.”

“I do,” you whine in frustration. You had it planned for weeks, this idea, and now…you just can’t go through with it. It doesn’t feel right.

You slide off of the table into Azriel’s lap, resting your head against his chest as he holds you tight. You let the soothing beat of his heart calm you down, the running of his hands up and down your back a relaxing gesture. It makes your heart swell, with the amount of love that you have for him.

Azriel brushes some hair away from your face when you pull back. He’s studying you with those intense golden eyes you’ve come to adore. You can read everything in those eyes; his annoyance, his happiness, his anger, his lust, even his feelings for you, but right now, you’re not all too confident in what he’s thinking.

“I want to show you something,” he murmurs softly and you frown.

“Okay,” you answer tentatively, but his hand is sure in yours as he laces your fingers together after helping you off his lap.

He guides you up the stairs and into his room.

“Azriel,” you tease, “I already know this room too well,” you say, alluding to his first night in the house where he fucked you over every surface in his room. It was pure bliss, one of the best nights you’ve shared.

Azriel puffs a breathy laugh and guides you to sit on the edge of his bed. You follow his instructions with obedience, covering your eyes when he tells you.

He waves a hand in front of your face to make sure you’re not looking. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Um,” your lips turn into the cutest pout when you think. “Two?”

He’s holding up none but he grumbles. “I was thinking two.”

You bounce giddily on the edge of his bed and his cock twitches as he thinks of you bouncing on his cock just like that.

“Easy, princess.”

You stop your bouncing but not your grinning.

Azriel strides over to his closet, pulling out the canvas he’s been working on, when you aren’t around, of course. Well, he only dares pull it out around you when you’re fast asleep in his bed. It’s consumed him day and night, and finally, his masterpiece is finished.

“What is it?” you ask giddily, unable to rein in your excitement or the butterflies in your stomach.

You hear Azriel’s laughter as he moves closer. “If I told you, that would defeat the whole purpose of me asking you to close your eyes, princess,” he tuts and you swear you can hear him rolling his eyes. “But you can open them now, Miss Impatient.”

“That’s my middle name—” your words stick to your throat as you stare at the canvas he’s holding in front of you.

You’re in awe, struck by the lines so confidently drawn. You’re transported back to the night of his exhibition, when he’d shown you the blackest parts of his soul, put on canvas.

Similarly to the centerpiece of the show, the charcoal drawing he has in front of you are two hands intertwined. His, with his rough scars, clutching tightly to a flawless hand, a feminine hand.

Your hand.

Azriel shifts nervously on his feet. All you’re doing is staring, open-mouthed, and he’d normally take that as a good sign, but when tears well your eyes his heart pinches in his chest.

“It’s,” you choke, pressing a hand to your aching heart. “It’s so beautiful, Azriel.”

He breathes out a sigh of relief, only managing to move the canvas out of the way when you launch yourself into his arms, sobbing into his chest. He leans it against the edge of his bed and tucks you tightly into his arms, pressing soft kisses to your forehead.

“Shhh, princess. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“I’m crying because it’s perfect,” you pull away and he’s wiping softly at your cheeks. Your eyes are red-rimmed and he hates that but he loves the way it makes your eyes pop. He studies them for a little longer, committing it to memory, something to sketch for later. “You’re perfect. And I—I love you.”

His attention snaps onto your words, holding onto them like they could slip away like a shadow. You haven’t said that before, neither have you. And he’s been wanting to say it for so long now, was going to so many times but it never felt like the right moment.

And it’s now that he realizes that there was never going to be a better moment than any of the times his lips formed the words, only for nothing to come out. He should’ve said it when he felt it because he knows you don’t care about the moment being this perfect thing, for fucks sake you’re crying in his arms right now and you’re telling him that you love him for the first time.

He is such an idiot sometimes.

“I love you too, princess,” he admits in a rasp, throat thick with the words. He’s never felt something this strongly for someone before. He wants to be around you all of the time, wants to hold you and touch you and taste you. You consume him, mind, body, and soul.

You’re there, tattooed on his fucking soul, inked in the love he hadn’t known he was missing until you met. The darkness that consumed him was a starless sky, a void waiting to be filled. You. You are the moon and the stars lighting him up, brightening his days.

He fucking loves you. So, so much.

“Yeah?” you ask, your soft crying turns to happy tears, ones he can’t help but to kiss as they roll down their cheeks. “You love me?”

“I love you, (Y/N),” Azriel says, “I think maybe I always have.”

“That’s so not true,” you laugh wetly, trying to swat at his chest. Azriel catches your hand in his and kisses your palm, golden eyes gleaming.

“Okay,” he concedes with a grin, “Maybe not always, but for a long time now.”

You shake your head fondly. Your eyes dart away from him in your sudden nervousness. “Az?”

“Yeah, princess?”

You look at the picture once more, admiring it. It’s utterly perfect, just like him.

Pointing at it, you say, “That. I want that as my first tattoo.”

Azriel stares, shocked. “Are you sure? You know I’ll give you any tattoo that you want, but I need you to be one hundred percent positive. I don’t want you to regret anything.”

“I won’t,” you shake your head in disagreement and the softness in his eyes makes your heart swell. He looks like he can’t believe you’re real and you’re his. You’ll make him believe it and more. Later, you want to hear him say those three magical words while he’s pinning you to his sheets. Now, you want a tattoo. “This has to be the tattoo, Az. It’s us. I want us.”

He kisses you firmly on the mouth. Desperate.

“I want us too.”

“Then let’s do this thing, Az. I’m ready.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

MM Taglist Part 1: @justvibbinghere @nickishadow139 @going-through-shit @honeycries @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @reiincarnatiion @ccucumbers @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r @ssmay123 @haivenhoule @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @bloodicka @acourtofbatboydreams @hannzoaks @judig92 @ilikefictionalmen @harrystylesfan2686 @dr4g0ngirl @helensophie @isa1b2h3 @viatorem-maris

#midnight muse #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #tattoo artist!azriel #artist!azriel #art school au #acotar au

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cosmal · 1 year

Note

okay tasm!peter parker thought!!! he’s obsessed with touching your face. like, when you’re talking about something he’ll just randomly grab your face and smoosh your cheeks. he’ll boop or kiss your nose at random times. most importantly, when he’s kissing you he’ll be holding your face, his big hands on your cheeks guiding your head so he can kiss you better. omg

doughnuts

summary you're really excited about doughnuts. peter really wants to kiss you.

content tasm!peterparker x fem!afab!reader

note this is my first time writing for tasm!peter please forgive me if it sucks.

For the first time in a while, you come home after work with enough excitement to light up the entire flat.

Peter's sitting up in his bed reading when you find him. All things soft with rumpled hair, his clothes even worse, reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. You're not sure if he really needs them anymore, but he likes to wear them to keep an ounce of normalcy.

"Hi," you chirp when he notices you. He dog-ears his book and puts it down almost immediately. You beam.

"Hi, baby," he seems just as happy to see you as you do him. Though, there's a buzz to you that Pete lacks. You think if you got home twenty minutes later he would've been napping.

You move across his room while pushing your work skirt down your legs. Peter's heart skips when it looks like you might trip and he tries to keep his eyes off your soft thighs. You rifle through his draws to find one of his shirts to wear, unbuttoning your own blouse in the process.

"How was your day?" you ask, holding up a shirt to your nose. You choose it because it smells more like your boyfriend than the others.

Peter crumples his face, trying not to laugh. "It was good. Didn't do much - you?"

You say something while pulling the shirt over your face that Pete can't discern. You all but jump into his lap when you reach him. Hooking your thighs over his lap until you're face to face.

He allows you to get comfy, pushing your knees into his side while he sits up, hands finding their place on your hips. "Hello," he says again, much quieter now that you're in his space. You look adorable in his shirt and your work tights.

"Did you hear me?" you ask, basically pulsing with giddy energy. You push your fingers under the hem of his shirt and he short-circuits for a moment.

He blinks. "You had your face in your shirt."

"Right," you giggle, a girlish sound that Peter wants seared in his brain, "I said, you know the food truck around the block?"

"You'll have to be more specific," he says, squeezing at your hips.

"The one that shut down."

"Oh, right. The Jam Van," he laughs knowingly. You'd moped for almost a month when they closed. You were inconsolable.

"Yeah," you grin, poking his chest, "yeah, they reopened!"

You're smiling so hard Peter worries that you'll get stuck like that. With your eyebrows raised and your cheeks appled. He thinks he needs to hold your face like right now.

He lets his hands leave your hips and raises them to hold your cheeks. Your skin is warm under his touch like he expected. "That's great, baby."

You ignore his hands. "Right? It's amazing."

Peter pushes your cheeks together until your lips pout outwards. He thinks you look extremely cute. Even worse when you try to frown and it just looks like a smooshed mess. He wants to laugh but you look peeved.

"Pete," you try to say. It comes out all mumbled.

"Yeah?" he says, distracted by your puffy face.

You pull your face from his hands and struggle a bit. Holding his arms to his chest you say, "Are you even listening to me?"

"The Jam Van," he says nodding. Smarmy.

"Right," you say, still mildly upset, "they're open right now if you wanna..."

"You wanna go get doughnuts?" he asks with his arms still pinned to his body. His hands wriggle to touch you.

"Can we?" you ask, eyes wide with hope. Peter wishes he had his camera with him.

"Can I kiss you first?" he grins boyishly. You wish you had a better resolve. He's awfully pretty and you really want doughnuts.

You let his arms go, huffing like kissing him is a difficult task. "If you really want." You have to hold back a laugh.

He reaches his hands back up to your cheeks and gives them another squeeze, "Of course, I want to."

You let him guide your face down to meet his lips, huffing into his mouth once they meet. You go lax in his lap when he presses firmer, spreading his fingers over your warming cheeks. He tilts your face upwards so he has better access to slip his tongue in your mouth. You whine when he has you exactly where he wants. Putty in his hold, holding you close by your soft cheeks.

You pull away from his lips, blinking away the dizziness. "Pete," you say panting.

Peter licks his lips, "Yeah?"

You push your face into his neck to hide the way he so obviously makes you feel, holding onto his sleep shirt for dear life. You try to even out your breathing and fail.

"You okay, love?" he asks. There's a hint of smartassery you don't miss. He's awful.

"Yeah," you say a tad breathlessly. "Yeah."

He kisses your shoulder and you shudder. His ego swells tenfold. "You sure?"

You take a moment to compose yourself, hating yourself for being so pliable. You sit back to look him in the eye. "So," you say with a confidence you lack, "Jam Van?"

Peter laughs and catches your face again. You like it much more than the first time. "That felt like coercion ."

"You asked to kiss me!" you say bewildered, pushing at his chest with not enough force than you feel is deserved.

"You tricked me," he laughs with you, letting you paw at his chest. It's quite adorable, really.

"Whatever," you say with more heat than you mean, a smile tugging at your red lips. You untangle yourself from his lap and stand to walk away. "I'll get my own jam doughnuts."

Peter smacks your ass before you can get away and you gasp. "Peter Parker!"

"You can't go out like that."

"I'll do what I like!" you call from the other end of the hallway.

Peter chases you around the flat until he gets you in his arms. The doughnuts wait for a few more hours.

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bi-writes · 2 months

Text

bestfriend!roommate!simon leaves on an assignment, but he needs your help first. (18+)

more bff!roommate!simon (part 9/?)

cw: mature language and content, suggestive language and content, simon has thicc thighs, lap sitting, fem+m!receiving touching, thigh riding because i cant resist, soft!dom!simon, praise kink, size kink (reader described to be moved/handled easily by him), the mask doesn't come off, simon is a cocky bastard, a lotta angst

"simon, if you keep moving, i won't be able to finish, quit squirming."

"sorry, luv--afraid you'll prick me with that bloody thing."

you stuck your tongue out at him for a moment before setting back against his thighs. you sat so nicely there, your ass perched on the thick muscle as you worked. you had your tongue between your teeth as you concentrated.

your fingers held a thick needle, weaving it through the fabric of simon's balaclava and the plastic skull plate. he had ruined another piece; he had come home after his last deployment with the skull plate in pieces. he did not explain what had happened to it; you only tried to ignore the streaks of red along the face of it when you watched him throw it away.

you saw him sitting on the couch, trying to sew it together, but his big fingers made it a little difficult; you sweetly asked if you could help. a big plus--you got to sit in simon's lap and bask in the heat of him.

you adjusted, moving around until you were straddling his wide hips. you had to spread your own to accommodate his size, sitting up high to be able to reach the top of his head, weaving the thread through to tie the plastic to the fabric.

"bloody tits are in m'face, luv."

"yeah? never heard a man complain about that before," you laughed lowly. he grunted in response, a gloved hand wrapping around your waist to hold you steady. "what? you don't like 'em?"

he clicked his tongue, shaking his head, and you laughed again, continuing to sew the plastic to the fabric.

"you're gonna look so scary," you smiled wide. "you like looking scary on the field?"

"keeps the little ones at bay."

"everyone's little to you, simon."

"aye."

you snorted, settling in his lap as you were almost finished sewing the mask. you tied off the thick thread when you were finished, using some scissors to cut the excess fabric. you met his eyes as you sat there, and you smiled at him; maybe he did look intimidating, but all you could think about was how those pretty eyes sparkled last night when he came into your hand and how much you were going to miss that look when he was gone.

"the paint, simon?"

he held up a small jar in one hand, and you took a brush from the coffee table and began to draw lines down the face of the mask. you passed over his dark eyes, winking at him playfully before doing the same line on the other half of the mask. you put the brush down, dipping the tip of your manicured finger in it and then starting to draw the lines down where the mouth of his face would be.

you could feel his warm breath against your finger, and you cupped his cheek with your other hand, holding him firm as you drew along the mask.

"i'm going to miss you, simon," you whispered, swallowing hard. you avoided his eyes, focusing on drawing along the cloth. you let out a shaky breath. "i-i mean...i always miss you, but now you're gonna be gone and...whenever you go, you go for a long time, and--"

simon squeezed your waist gently, quieting you. your bottom lip trembled a little, and you looked down, away from him.

"i-i'm sorry. i don't mean to get upset. it's stupid."

stupid. there was nothing stupid about being vulnerable. nothing stupid about baring yourself, being naked to someone in more ways than just the physical. the sex was easy together; it was everything else that simon fought with. feeling. being. loving. the mundane of that love, like coming home.

and coming home was not easy.

"'s not stupid, luv. i know i leave y'here. i know," he shook his head. "i don't do it on purpose, y'know that."

you nodded, "yes, yeah...i know. it's your job. and you're good at your job, and you made a commitment to your team, and they rely on you like you rely on them--i-i know the reasons." you smiled sadly. "i know. i just miss you...that's all."

there was an itch in the back of your head, a hoarseness lodged in your throat--sometimes you wanted to just keep talking, because forbid this be the last time i say it to you.

he hummed lowly, sliding his hands down low and cupping both sides of your ass, bringing you close. you wipe your hands off of the paint, sighing deeply, relaxing as simon leaned back against the couch and held you near. your hands circled around his neck, hugging him back as you breathed in each other--your scent, the sounds of your breath, the feel of each other's warmth.

you cleared your throat, smoothing your hands down simon's cheeks.

"let me get you geared up, yeah?"

you didn't wait for simon to answer. you picked yourself up off his lap, going to where he had his things laid out. you picked up his tactical vest, holsters, his skull-painted gloves, and you brought them back to the couch. simon sat up as you draped the vest over his head, fitting it over his shoulders. you untucked the hood of his jacket from under the vest, making sure it sat right before fastening the straps and making sure it was secure. you tugged on the straps just to make sure, your eyes skimming over the British flag on his chest and the prominent letters spelling SAS.

you busied yourself with switching out his gloves now, replacing the plain black ones with the painted-skull bone gloves. you didn't react to the calloused fingertips or the jagged scars along his hands. simon was so beautiful--every part of him was.

"i'm really proud of you, simon," you said softly. he hummed lowly but said nothing. you kissed his cheek gently, trying to meet his eyes and smile at him. "have i ever told you that?" simon shook his head, his eyes raising to stare intensely right into yours. you bit your lip. "well, i am. proud. you've come so far. they would be proud, too."

you didn't have to specify who they were. simon didn't flinch, but his eyes flickered.

you reached for one of the thigh holsters, sitting back and motioning for him to stand. when he did, you tried not to think about how much simon towered over you like this. he was taller than you, so much broader, taking up so much of your space. you reached up and started to fasten the holsters around his thigh, your fingers skimming the taut muscle there as you buckle it around him. you didn't comment on the fact that you nearly had to loosen the strap all the way just to fit around the thick of him.

you reached for the other holster, fastening it around his other thigh and looking up at him after you had finished. fuck, he looked good like this. he looked so much bigger--the width of him was greater, with you seated, you had to bend your neck back far, and having his back to the window cast low shadows over his face, darkening his gaze and giving him an eerie backlight. but you would never be afraid of simon--even all dressed up.

your lips part gently when his gloved hand cups just under your chin. you mewled lowly, looking up at him with those big eyes and a soft voice. simon knelt down suddenly, widening his thighs to cage you in on the couch and keeping a gentle hold of your chin.

"'m gonna be back before you know it, luv. sittin' right there--" he tilted his head to the spot to your left, "--y'know that, right?"

you broke out into a soft smile, bouncing a little as you nodded your head. simon clenched his jaw under the mask--fuck, you were so cute, so fucking sweet. there was nothing more comforting than knowing you were waiting for him when he came back--that you would be sitting here just like this, with this little smile on your face, your eyes so wide and pretty.

"i know," you whispered. you leaned over, smoothing your hands over the front of his vest before absentmindedly playing with the straps of it. "i know, simon. still going to miss you."

you don't meet his eyes. it was hard; simon was an important part of your life. any time you lived in his absence, it was lonely. now that you lived together, it felt that much lonelier--there was a room cold and unoccupied, an empty seat at the table, a spot on the couch without him in it. his voice soothed no nightmares and his warmth took away none of your shivering. you never told him that when you called; you only spoke of the meal you had cooked that you told him he would like and the annoying step at the entrance that the landlord still hadn't come to mend.

"c'mere."

simon smoothed his gloved hand down your chin, wrapping his fingers delicately around your throat. with a firm grip, he guided you into his lap as he sat back against the couch again, your body easily settling between his thighs again. your face relaxed, cheek smushed against his shoulder as you pressed your lips to the fabric over his neck. you sighed deeply, legs resting on either side of one of his thighs.

your head tilted back, your eyes peeking up to look at him. he moved his own head to the side, and beneath the skull, you could see those pretty dark eyes--beautiful, undeniable need in them. simon was terrible at hiding what he felt behind his eyes--they were warm, and his pupils were dilated, and you wondered if he saw the same pretty things in you that you saw in him.

your eyes fluttered when you felt one hand slide down the length of your spine. a warm, gentle hand, smoothing along the back of your shirt before cupping one side of your ass. you whined, a soft little sound escaping as you jumped slightly. your legs squeezed around his thigh, and you let out a gasp at the gentle grind. you reached up and cupped one side of his face at the first trace of pleasure, your lips pressing to the other side of it as he encouraged you to do it again.

you did. following his guiding hand, you dragged your hips up again, a strangled moan leaving you as you grind against his thigh. but it wasn't enough--as you moved, you whimpered against simon's face, letting out hot breaths of frustration. your jeans were too much of a barrier, not allowing for enough stimulation, and you felt pathetic when you heard simon's low chuckle.

"awww, sweetheart...look at ya..." he reached up with one paw of a hand and tangled a gloved hand into your hair, tugging on it firmly. he grunted as he watched your mouth fall open, slack jawed, drooling a little as you squeezed your thighs around his own. "look at tha'face. fuckin' beautiful, innit? that face you make when you want your cunny all nice and wet...when you want it pet..."

you cried out at that, nuzzling your face into his mask, kissing at the fabric and licking over the strong line of his jaw and hoping to god that he would have mercy on his pretty little roommate. that he would have mercy on her pretty face, on his name tumbling out of her mouth, on the way she grinded on his thigh like a lovesick bunny in heat.

"sound pathetic, luv..." he gripped the back of your neck, holding you at a distance now. he gripped the front of your jeans roughly, undoing the button and pulling the zipper down. "now be a good puppy and take 'em off."

you shimmied out of your jeans, slipping them down your legs and kicking out of them. you were about to slip your panties off, pretty pink lace that hugged your ass so cute, but simon stopped you, forcing you back down to straddle his thigh.

"i like these," he murmured. "want them on."

you smiled, putting both hands on his vest. you gripped it tight, as tight as you could handle kevlar and bulletproof material, and then you nuzzled your face into mouth of his mask and began to ride his thigh. you were shaking. the straps of his holster were catching on your clit, and your hands were growing clammy as you tried to hold onto him for stability. you wanted to be good. you wanted to show simon how good you could be, how if he just unzipped his cargo pants and dropped them low enough, you could ride his cock so good, he'd see the fucking stars.

you hitched yourself higher on his leg, your thighs squeezing around the meat of his thigh, and he grunted lowly when your knee met his crotch. as you bounced, you rubbed up against him, and you squeaked when his gloved hand gripped your hair roughly, forcing your lips against the front of his mask. your mouth dropped open into a silent scream, a choked moan leaving you, and you kept going. you needed to show him, he needed to know--he needed to know that you wanted him, that you wanted this.

you let one hand drop, fall from his vest, and he growled out a string of angry curses when that soft hand gripped his cock through his pants. it was rough, a little aggressive, and you met his eyes easily.

"i want it--i-i want it--!" you cried. "i w-want more--"

he chuckled, and you felt tears prickling the edges of your big eyes as he laughed. your heart ached because you knew he was laughing at you. you sounded broken. you sounded lost. you sounded pathetic, but you couldn't care, you just couldn't bring yourself to. you needed more with simon.

you were tired of the in-between. you were sick of what if, when, the maybes that surrounded the unspoken thing between you. every grind of your hips, every drop of your slick that dampened his pants, all of it was just something in you screaming what are we?

he called your name, and you wanted to care about what he thought, but you needed him to know. you slipped your arms around his neck, moving until you straddled his hips, pressing your cunt right over the hardness stuck in his zipper and continuing your desperate pace.

you were going to make him understand this feeling inside. the gnawing in your chest--the thing that wanted to be outside so bad, it would claw its way out, it would force its fingers through your throat until simon could see that this wasn't a mistake.

this wasn't forgotten moments that lingered after dark. this wasn't the inevitable of a man and a woman who lived together. this was the catalyst of a bond too strong. two things, unable to be taken apart, to be reduced to separate things. there was not a simon riley without you, and there was no you without simon riley, and if he couldn't understand that, you didn't think you would survive the homecoming.

so you were going to fuck simon riley until he understood the knot was tight, and it would never unravel.

"kitty, wait--"

but he couldn't stop you. you swallowed his words, moaning desperately against the mask, your hips chasing the warm buzz that was creeping up your chest and down your thighs, your toes clenching as you notched the tip of his cock right up against your clit and fucked yourself harder against the smooth fabric of his pants.

"kitty--fuckin' christ--"

you sobbed, squeezing the back of his neck as you soaked his pants. your hips stuttered, small little circles that you made as you tried to ride out the trickle of warmth that was covering you like a comforting, pleasurable wave. your body relaxed, and you sucked on his jaw through the mask, tasting the musk and cigarette smoke that lingered there.

"simon--p-please--"

he grunted, pressing on the back of your head to tuck your face into his neck. you sniffled, moody and emotional from coming so hard, and you shook your head.

"y'r not ready for it. not time yet."

"i am," you sounded like such a baby. a cock-drunk pretty little roommate that needed something so desperately, she was so scared of what she might do to have it. to have him. "i am, please--"

"luv--"

"it's not fair," you gasped, pulling back from him. you stared up at him, and he hummed lowly, reaching up to wipe the tears that gathered under your eyes. "it's not fair, why--why can't i--?"

he tsked, clicking his tongue as he got to his feet, and your eyes lowered as he cursed under his breath, adjusting his pants, and you felt a sliver of victory as you realize that you made simon cum in his pants like a teenager.

"i w-won't wait forever."

the air in the room changed immediately. it came out of your mouth faster than you could stop it, and you tensed against the couch as his head turned, snapping to look at you.

"wot? wot did y'just say?"

"nothing."

"look at me."

you grit your teeth as he leaned down and knocked you under the chin, forcing your head to tilt back.

"wot did you just say?"

"nothing," you repeated, firmer this time. his eyes narrowed, two black, dull eyes staring down at you. his gaze was intense, and it was meant to scare you, but simon could never scare you. deep down, you knew he would never hurt you, at least not physically.

emotionally, simon had your heart in his hands, and those hands were not made to nurture. they were made to make pretty roommates cum and to pull dirty triggers. but nowhere in that did it say they were made to love you. nowhere did it specify he would keep it safe. you had given it up, before you had even realized, and he was playing you like his favorite instrument.

but simon didn't know how to play music. and there was a part of you that knew nothing about this was in tune.

when he goes, he doesn't say goodbye. and when you cried, it echoed in an empty room.

you would not wait forever. i will not wait forever.

he will not wait forever.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut

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undercoverpena · 10 months

Text

circles and squares

simon ghost riley x f!reader (cod)

an: you should all thank @halfmoth-halfman for this one and our early morning chat. I heart you lots.

an: written on phone, mind any errors.

Ghost is aware he’s not the easiest person to be with.

He's an entanglement of repressed feelings, scars that run deeper than layers of skin and a need for solitude, that you seem to have slid past.

You take it all in your stride, not fazed—not asking too much—the patience of a saint.

It’s not that why he likes you. It’s that you make up rules for the two of them with relative ease. Providing him with ways to express himself without using words.

For someone whose skin is littered with only a handful of marked memories and a heart still soft, you surprise him with how deeply you understand him.

How much you just get him.

In all of his future thinking, Ghost never envisioned such a soul would fall for him—although Simon had always hoped.

Two fragmented parts of him working together, desperate to keep whatever was happening between the two of you intact. Even if he had little to give and not a whole lot to offer, you stuck around.

You say very little when it comes to his past, taking what you can with gratitude. When you’re ticking, turning over thoughts—needing something but unsure how to ask for it—you make up solutions to give him a voice.

Not a physical one, but one just as loud.

“—like this,” you explain, taking the pen from his hand, drawing a circle—small, no bigger than 2cm—onto the plain, crisp page.

The black stands out, all stark against the white paper on the chipped wooden desk. His eyes glancing up from the nib, to your eyes.

He wants to ask for an explanation, folding his arms, sighing as he runs his tongue over his teeth.

You smile.

He suspects it isn’t because you hear his sigh or because of the way he folds his arms—but because you know him.

You know it isn’t to do with impatience or confusion, but rather because you understand that the two of you squirrelled away in a room brings questions. Ones he wants to save you from, as though you’re a damsel and not a lieutenant under him.

You don’t need to protect me.

You’d said that once. Under him, your legs on either side of his thighs as your fingers brush over stubble and blemishes.

But he does.

Not just from the gossip, from the glances. But those who look for him—those who inflicted each defacement he lets you see.

If anything, you’re one of the very things he needs to protect. Keep you safe.

“If we fill it in like this,” you say, shading in the circle. “We’ll know the other person isn’t okay. We don’t have to explain to why, but we’ll know.”

He cocks a brow, not that you can see it. His mask, the one all plain black, more for the base than out in the open, hiding his expressions from you.

Ghost suspects, though, you see right through the fabric. Like you saw through him to begin with. Ignored the snark and the bitterness, saw something—someone—worth getting drenched for when you were both stationed in Europe.

He hadn’t liked the rain before then, not the scent of it—not the way it made his clothes cling to his skin, how it suffocated him. But he likes how you looked in the rain, how your face relaxed even as your hair flattened to your head. How your hand turned palm over, catching droplets like they were blessings and not something which had ruined an entire night of recon.

“Alright, but if we’re OK?” He asks.

Your head nods, drawing another circle next to it. Not filling it, just leaving the outline there.

“Not filled in means we’re okay.”

It doesn’t cross his mind what they’ll do if there’s no paper, if there’s no way in a crowded room to get across that you’re drowning. That it feels too much. That you need him.

You think about it, though. Because you always are. Always thinking of ways to make things easier, better. Ticking it off—always assessing, attempting to better things. Not for you, never for you (your selflessness knows no bounds), but for him.

An answer to his inner thought was answered a month or two later.

It’s a mess, loud voices—arguments brewing in fractions as mutinies begin to build. Price in the centre, chewing his cheek, fingers twitching, likely desperate for a cigar or even a drink as another captain chews his ear off.

The 141 rarely partner with others for this reason.

He doesn’t linger on Price. Knows if he’s needed, he’ll hear his name cutting through the loudness. So he looks for you, eyes searching, finding you pressed into the corner. Alone.

You’ve not been sleeping. Tossing, turning beside him. Fingers reaching for him, finding his side, his arm—even his fingers—as your brows knit and stencils lines into your face.

He never wakes you, just lets you take—and when you don’t take, he just holds. Clutching you close, pressing your ear to his chest, hoping the steady beat of his heart is enough.

Sometimes it is.

He suspects now wouldn’t be.

Your back is pressed against the wall, eyes down on the ground before they flick up, and for a moment, he forgets how to breathe.

Not just because your eyes are stunning, cutting into him from across a room, but because of how you look at him: a silent calling, a beckoning, a help dancing close to your pupils.

Slowly, for confirmation, he watches as you raise your right hand, drawing a circle on your left shoulder. His eyes track it, following it as it meets your starting point. Mind drowning out Johnny, not even listening to the group of idiots next to him—focused instead on how you begin using your finger to fill in the symbolic shape.

He nods.

Feet moving, gloved hands pushing shoulders and bodies, parting the pockets of people as he moves towards you.

Ghost isn’t sure what he can do when he gets there, his pulse just thumping—following only a need to be next to you. He expects murmurs, more suspicious comments about how he’s always close by to you. Smarter soldiers recognise that he always has an eye on you if you’re close—they’re just not smart enough to identify something is already happening, and has been for a while.

As he nears you, he’s thankful he doesn’t need to ask it because you’re already keeping your eyes on him. Seeing as he gets closer that your lips are slightly parted, a little O created, chest rising and falling as you take in shallow breaths.

He wants to offer something, whether it’s his voice, presence, or anything. Which is why he asks:

“Wanna get out of here?”

He’s not sure if you expect it—not sure if you had considered it an option. Your head nodding, furiously, blinking away tears that threaten to spill as your hand brushes his wrist.

Not to take his hand—the two of you don’t do that—but to tap. Once, twice.

Thank you.

He nods. Not able to (or wanting to) stop the way his heart soars at it—at being able to provide you with something.

Give you a fraction of what you give to him: a way out, a safe place.

In time, your things begin to merge with his.

Not just on base, but back in England too. Your socks are washed with his, your back covered in one of his tees that skirts your thighs.

He doesn’t mind, for the most part, only finding he struggles with it at night. When you’re sound asleep, soft snores kissing the darkness as he turns over the many ways you could be taken from him.

Ghost sleeps less when he’s home. Most of his REM is collected in the day, sun shimmering through the blinds, your fingers drawing shapes on his shoulders.

Sometimes they’re squares—which means either I love you, or I miss you—and sometimes their triangles. The latter, he’s not sure if they have a meaning. He just draws them back on your knee, watching your lips slide up into your cheek as you try to read your book.

He likes it—the code.

The one he can say down the radio. The one he can draw on your arm when you’re both pressed together in some place in the Middle East.

Which is why it doesn’t surprise him when you shout his name, the front door being kicked shut behind you—a surprise in a carrier bag.

“I know you’re struggling.”

You say it so plainly. Not a hello or how are you, getting straight into it, watching him as he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his joggers.

He says nothing either because there’s little reason to lie. He wears the truth well, the bags under his eyes worse than when he’s sent away on a solo—his need to pin you under him in the morning when sleep hasn’t been wiped from your eyes another tick against your assumption.

Retrieving the item from your bag, you place it on the counter with a tap. His eyes falling from you to them, noticing four magnets.

Nothing impressive, nothing too much. But he knows instantly what they are.

One black circle, one white circle; one green circle, one red circle.

“Naturally, I’m the colourful ones.”

“Naturally,” he snorts.

Moving towards him, you slide a hand over his hip. “They’ll live at the base of the fridge door, and we’ll slide one up—close to the top. When we remember,” you say, looking at him. “Same as the circles. For me, red is—“

“Black.”

Nodding, you try to smile. “Square.”

“Square,” he says back, quickly. Palm cupping your cheek, thumb brushing a line across it.

Wondering, as he always does, how you remain so soft, so kind. How even though you’re haunted too, you still find ways to do things for him—

“Because I love you,” you say, as though reading his mind. “It’s easy because I love you.”

Swallowing, he holds your cheek more firmly, his other hand resting on your hip.

“Y… you don’t have to say it, I’m fine with—“

“I love you. It’s why I worry.”

Rolling your lips, you sigh—soft and small—before you nod. “I know, Simon. But we keep each other safe. Yeah?”

He nods back.

Because you do keep him safe. Not wearing a mark on your skin from him—or asking him to leave one—just in case. Your name on the place the two of you call yours, just in case.

An understanding is known about the future—mainly around rings and names, just in case.

“Which circle are you?”

His lips twitch, a smile wanting to show. “White.”

“Okay, good.” Your finger begins to draw a triangle, his eyes narrowing, your lips rising into a smirk. “Bought something else, too.”

“Yeah?”

Nodding, you lick your lips, eyes widening as you continue to draw it on him. “Wanna go upstairs and… see?”

It hits him only then. The deviousness in your eyes showing.

Triangle means—

“I want you,” you whisper.

He snorts, his laugh dying in his throat, wrapping his fingers around the back of your neck, bringing your lips to his.

Kissing shapes against your lips, unshaded circles, squares, and then triangles.

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #ghost x reader #cod ghost x reader #cod x reader #ghost cod #cod ghost x you #ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost cod mw2 #cod ghost #ghost x female reader #ghost riley headcanon

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jilixthinker · 3 months

Text

i always know

=͟͟͞♡ seungmin × fem!reader

=͟͟͞♡ fluffy period sex

word count: 4K

content warning: smut, explicit sexual content, established relationship, kinda sub!seungmin, period sex, unprotected sex (piv), fingering, oral sex (f receiving), it's grafic and fluffy

a/c: i wrote this for my pure enjoyment because period!sex should be debunked and seungmin is just so... fitting. enjoy this ♡

=͟͟͞♡ please, consider reblogging if you like my works!

"What do you need again?"

Seungmin's voice is ruffled and far. You can hear people talking in the background and the annoying beeping sounds of cash registers.

"Just the regular pads I always buy." You huff, hot bottle strategically placed on your lower stomach and phone on speaker. The fact that you had to do anything today is literally a crime. You had to go to work, 8 infinite hours of cramps and shivers, and then grocery shopping. And, of course, you forgot to buy your pads.

Seungmin finished his shift 30 minutes ago, and he called to check on you, asking if you were feeling like eating Chinese for dinner. That's when it popped into your mind.

"Uhm. The purple ones, right?". You can hear him searching through the boxes to find the right one.

"Yes, just those." You mutter, another dart of dull pain spikes through your abdomen, making you curl on yourself.

The painkiller you took with lunch wore off hours ago and you cannot take another one without eating before, or it will upset your stomach.

"Okay. 10 minutes and I'll be home. I am so sorry".

You roll from your side onto your back, hugging the hot bottle tighter to your tummy and drawing your knees towards your chest. Kim Seungmin is the best boyfriend in the entire world, a true angel, and you know it. That's why you say it all the time.

"Kim Seungmin, you are the best boyfriend in the entire world."

Seungmin's laugh is quiet and shy while you hear him paying for your box of pads.

"I'm not. Coming."

You close your eyes trying to relax, but it doesn’t work. You watch your own chest rise and fall in the overwhelming quiet of the room until the silence is too much, and you look for the remote, stuck under the million of cushions on your sofa. You put one of your favorite kdramas on, and you lazily start to watch it until you hear the sound of keys just outside the door.

You sit up, keeping your hot bottle on your stomach. The sound is followed by the shuffle of footsteps and the sound of Seungmin's soft voice.

"Hi." He waves as soon as he sees you, splayed on the couch.

"Hi," you respond. You try to keep the discomfort out of your voice, even if Seungmin knows how much painful your periods can be. Your pale face doesn't hide anything as well.

He rounds the corner and he tilts his head at you. His new blondish hair partially covers his puppy eyes, but it makes him look so soft and cuddly that you don't mind.

"Are you alright?". He asks you while he starts to set the table for the take-out.

"Yeah, fine". You rub your face and move against the arm of the couch. "Always the same".

"Mhm." Seungmin nods and places two napkins and your chopsticks on the table before heading for the kitchen. You watch him opening two boxes of stir fried noodles and one of caramelized tofu, together with some mushrooms and veggies.

"Ready." He smiles and comes toward you, offering his hand as a support for standing up. When you both sit at the table, he fills your plate before his.

"Why are you so sweet today?" You ask, picking up your chopstick and starting munching on some veggies.

He ducks his head with a cute wink. "I am always sweet. Also, you are hurting." He squeezes your hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing your knuckles. You stuff a piece of tofu inside your mouth.

"I am not hur-".Then another cramp twists through your lower belly and you groan.

"Oh, love." He coos, and looking up, you realize he has a worried look in his eyes. "Wait, let me help you eat".

Before you can mount any protest, he takes your chopsticks from your hands and bring a piece of tofu and mushrooms in front of your mouth. You look at him steadily.

"I am not a child." You huff, but the pain humbles you quickly with a sharp cramp.

"How many times have you mothered me when I was sick? Let me pamper you every once in a while." And then he looks at you with the softest eyes he could master. "Please?"

You lift your legs to place them on his laps and you silently open your mouth. The flavorful taste of the food calming your senses just a little. Seungmin alternates one mouthful of food for you and one for himself for a few minutes. The vision is so caring and sweet that makes your heart ache.

When you both finish eating, Seungmin places a tiny kiss on your cheek before starting to clear the table. You patiently wait for him to finish and, when he is done, he hands you a big glass of water with one of your painkillers.

"I feel awful". You admit after chugging the pill together with half of the water.

Seungmin nods, and he gently circles your hips with his arm, helping you standing up again. He rests one of his hands on your hipbone and caresses it. "What can I do?".

"Nothing, Min." you reply. "I'm not dying. It will pass, eventually. It happens every month". You glare and hope he can stop worrying that much before you start feeling guilty.

"Why don't you choose something nice to watch while I prepare the bed and make another hot bottle?"

The thought of you two cuddling on your warm bed until the painkillers kick in and you can fall asleep is very tempting.

"Sure. I am gonna change my pad real quick and put my pajamas on."

Seungmin smiles and you pick up the box he bought for you from a shopping bag, heading to the bathroom.

After taking the quickest shower and putting a fluffy set of pajamas, you enter in your room. Seungmin turned on just the background lights, the softer ones, and he is waiting for you under the covers. He created what it seems to be a nest of blankets, soft and warm. You snuggle next to him and he covers you with one of them, the hot bottle waiting for you.

You hug his chest and he places one arm around your shoulders, pressing the bottle on your stomach and making sure you are all covered with the blankets. The TV in front of your bed is already on.

"I don't deserve you." You whisper, nuzzling your nose in the crook of his neck. He smells nice, fresh and clean as always.

"You deserve any of this and more". He turns his head to press a peck on your forehead, and he tightens his hug. You puff some air while snuggling up. The warmth of his body feels just right against your aching stomach, and in just a few seconds you begin to feel better already.

"How can you always find out what I need?" You ask, the sound of your voice is muffled by the skin of his neck, and Seungmin lets out a tiny laugh.

"Well, it's simple. I love you. I always know." He murmurs, settling his hand on the nape of your neck. Your eyes slip shut, you still feel an uncomfortable tightness in your lower stomach, but it's definitively decreasing.

Seungmin finds the remote control and clicks on the same episode of the drama you were watching before. His touch melts down your skin, warm and soft, soothing the tension of your muscles and bringing you the relief you’ve been craving the whole day.

The voices of the drama seem far while you bring your right leg to straddle Seungmin's.

"This feels so nice". You whisper on his skin.

Seungmin smiles and starts to hum a lullaby. The vibrations are low and you start to think you might even fall asleep like this. Then, another cramp hits you and suddenly you are wide awake again.

"That bad?" Seungmin's hands settle on your hips and travel to your back, massaging your spine in tiny circles, trying to help you with the pain.

"Uhm." You reply. His fingers catch on the hem of your pajamas shirt and he starts to press the pads on your bare skin. He keeps the pressure consistent and your back arches slightly into his. You shuffle closer to him. The heat of his hands on your back is a pleasing distraction from the ache spreading through your pelvis.

"Does it help a little?" He whispers while pressing another kiss on your temple.

"It feels good." You mumble. The noise is muffled in the soft fabric of Seungmin's sweater.

He nods, and for a few minutes he keeps alternating between applying pressure to your back and running his hands up and down your spine. You hum from deep in your chest as you feel yourself go loose in his arms. The cramps on your abdomen lighten and you tilt your head to the side to face him.

"Kiss?" You demand, voice all groggy and low.

Seungmin lowers his face to press his lips against yours. They are plump and soft, and they taste like mint. You lazily open your mouth and let your tongue lap his lower lip. He lets you do it for a bit, until you start nibbling at it and you feel getting restless under the warm covers.

"Getting better?" He asks without letting your mouth go.

You nod and his right hand comes up to cup your cheek. The other one is still on your lower back, caressing the skin over your pajama pants.

Seungmin hums slowly and the sound vibrates into you. He parts his lips and licks into your mouth while your grip on him becomes tighter.

"Can I try something?" He breathes on you. The pressure of his hand on your back is firmer than before, and his fingers feel hot against your sensitive skin.

"Something like?" you stop to look up to him. He looks a little bit flushed, but you're sure you look worse.

"Something than can help you. And something that I wanted to try for a while."

You feel a slight shiver on the skin of your back. You nod and lower your face to press your lips on his cheek, leaving an open mouthed kiss on it. Seungmin cups your chin again and slips the tip of his tongue inside your waiting mouth. You hum pleasantly, trying to deepen the kiss, until finally Seungmin gives in and lets you.

Your lower stomach is still throbbing with pain, but you quickly feel a wave of warmth spreading on your belly. It feels like Seungmin is making everything hot, every little part of you that he gets to touch. He starts to drag his warm tongue along your lips while his hands tease the place where your skin meets the fabric of your pants. When he starts to play with the elastic band underneath, you lazily detach your mouth from his.

"Min?"

"Uh?" He leans back a little, but his lips find the tender spot under your ear and he begins to kiss you there.

"I am getting really horny." You admit. Your eyes slip shut and you lean on his touch.

"That's perfect." He murmurs, sucking a tiny portion of skin into his mouth and bringing his hands to cup your ass over the fabric of your pajamas. You moan at the touch and you press your body firmly against his.

"Is this okay?" He asks, sucking another bite into the skin of your neck.

You roll your head back onto the pillow under you, giving him more space. The soft light reflects on his brown eyes, glazy and dusted with arousal.

"Very."

Seungmin licks a stripe up your throat, all the way to your ear, and he gently rolls you on the bed until you are laying completely on your back. Even if his touch is light, you wince when he lays a hand on your stomach, slipping his fingers under your waistband. He dips his head to kiss the corner of your mouth, and then at the exposed skin of your collarbones, where the collar of your pajamas has slipped to the side.

You gasp when he slowly slips his hand underneath your pants and his fingers find your underwear. You stop tensing your legs, letting them fall apart slowly, and his fingers brush lower, over your inner thighs.

You’re so sensitive like this that you feel you could explode any moment now. The warmth of the room, combined with all the hormones flooding your body, heighten every little touch.

Seungmin's knuckles brush against the fabric of your cotton panties, and he slips a finger under the elastic band, finally pulling them off together with your pants. The induments fall on the floor, and that's when you remember your conditions.

"Minnie... I think we should grab a towel."

Seungmin kneels on the mattress in between your parted legs, and grab your knees to keep them open. "I don't care about the towel."

You are about to protest when one of Seungmin's hands slips lower and you feel the first brush of his fingers on you. A moan escapes from your mouth and your eyes flutter shut. And when he finally touches you, you keen.

He cups you fully, his palm resting over your pulsating core and thumb starting to rub your clit. You feel his pad tickling the tight bundle of nerves before dipping his fingers lower to tease at your entrance.

"Fuck."

You smell your own blood and arousal thick in the air, and it's so primal and raw that you feel lightheaded.

Seungmin presses in, his fingertip just dipping into you, and you drop your head against the pillow with a long a whine.

"You look beautiful." He murmurs. He inches his middle finger deeper and you can feel the squelching noise your pussy is letting out. The gushing sound reverberates in the room and it makes your head spin.

He presses the heel of his hand down and grinds it against your core, while he places his other hand on the lowest part of your belly.

"You look so good between my legs." You breathe out, circling your hips into his touch. His finger is fully inside inside you, but you are so wet that you need something more to feel stuffed.

Seungmin chuckles and he kisses your abdomen, pushing his finger in and out and pulling lewd noises out of you.

"Give me another one."

"Yes." He eases another finger into you, circling your folds with his pad before fucking it into you.

"Good boy."

He holds your body steady with his arm around your left thigh. He crooks his fingers to rub against the spongy spot inside you and your leg twitches. Your whole body is thick with desire and you feel so sensitive that you could come just from the obscene sound of Seungmin fucking your own blood into you.

He keeps you open like this for a few minutes, thrusting his fingers inside, and then smearing all of your liquids around your folds. Then he curls them again deeper into you.

When he slides his third finger in, you can feel yourself dripping on his wrist. And it should be gross, it should be revolting, but the only thought your brain can produce is hot hot hot hot. You bring your hand down and grab Seungmin's forearm, regulating his pushes and feeling his muscles flexing under his skin as he fuck you steadily.

"I wan' taste." Seungmin hums after a minute. His chocolatey eyes are staring hungrily at the way you pussy ingulfs his fingers.

"Yes, fuck. Taste me." You moan, the noises stuck in your throat come out groggy and low.

You drop the hand that was holding his arm and Seungmin just leans in, tongue lolling out of his mouth before he brings his lips on your pussy, flicking his warm muscle on your clit.

You hiss and your body tense up feeling Seungmin get lost in you. He closes his lips around your bundle of nerves and he sucks, hard.

"Seungmin."

You moan, hips bucking into his face while he dips his tongue against your entrance and you let out an audible gasp. Your eyes flick down to meet his, fully blown out with arousal. He pulls his tongue out and he keeps giving kitten licks, as if he was savoring a rich glass of wine.

Your head fall back on the pillow as you let him continue. Seungmin brings his fingers to your entrance once again, and he push just his index in, licking a fat strip from your entrance to your clit, purring with enjoyment.

"Taste good?" you ask, and you sound out of breath. Everything is so hot around you and you feel more drops of blood gushing out of you.

"You cannot believe how good." Seungmin whispers, looking up to meet your eyes and licking you deep at the same time.

The whole room is almost dark, the few lights that are still on don't allow you to see Seungmin in his interity. But it's enough for you to see him almost suffocating himself in your drooly cunt with your blood smeared on the corner of his mouth.

"Baby... Min, god. Need you inside."

Seungmin hums against your folds and sucks one more time before he wipes his mouth on his own wrist, pressing a wet kiss on your inner thigh.

He reaches down to fumble with the elastic band of his pants, clumsily tugging his erection free from the constriction of his underwear as he leans into you and smashes his lips against yours. You moan loudly when he opens his mouth and swirls his tongue inside, the metalic taste of your blood filthy and intoxicatic. Seungmin bites on your lower lip, and then he soothes it with his tongue. Everything is so raw that you feel yourself getting close already.

"It's not gonna be impressive." He whispers, bringing his hand down to messily stroke himself, thrusting into his own fingers just a couple of times. You can feel his tip bumping into your hip, all red and puffy, precum dribbling on your skin.

"I didn't touch you". You huff on his lips, licking his cheek and biting it lazily.

"You tasted too good. I almost came." He admits. He brings his cock in front of your pussy and he slides its chubby head on your clit. There is a mess of blood, spit and slick all mixing together and you moan at the feeling.

"Don't care. I am close. I jus' need your cum."

Seungmin swallows, fidgeting a little as his cock taps against your swollen clit. You circles your hips against him and your pussy catches the tip. You kiss him.

"Baby, Minnie. Wanna see my blood and your cum leak out of me after you fuck me nice and hard?"

Seungmin lets out a small noise at that, biting his lip. You can tell he is close by the way his breathes come out staggered.

"Yes, please". He agrees, finally pushing himself inside of you in one thrust, trying his best not to come immediately.

You moan pleasantly at the strech as he bottoms out. You feel his swollen balls rest on the fat of your thighs and from the sound you hear, you are making a mess on the bed sheets under you. You try to remember why is this the first time you are doing this, and you cannot find a reason.

Seungmin is shivering on top of you, and he delivers a first shallow push. You sigh in pleasure and he starts rocking his hips against yours. The wet sounds fill the room together with Seungmin's sweet hiccups. He held back for too long, and now he cannot help himself no more.

You cup his chin with your hands and you press a light kiss on his lips.

"You like it Minnie, uh? How long did you wait for this? You could have asked, you know. I would have said yes from the first time. I would have let you shove your cock inside me and cover it in blood. All nice and wet for you. Nasty boy."

Seungmin blushes heavily as you open youd legs, lowering a hand to spread apart your folds.

"Cum inside me, c'mon."

His thrusts are messy and errating, unable to bring himself to look at you in the eyes out of embarrassment. You dig your nails into his broad shoulders and he whines loudly as he pushes frenetically into you.

It is just a matter of time considering how close both of you have been from the start. The wet sounds that come with every thrust, together with the sight of your pussy stretched around his cock, are so sinful that Seungmin has to look away, a tight ring of slick and blood forming on his girth.

"G'na cum." He stutters, giving a few hard thrusts.

You nod and bring your hand in between your bodies to start rubbing at your puffy clit. The pressure combined with Seungmin's thrust is enough to bring to to the edge in a few seconds, and with your free hand you cup his face and you kiss him deep.

"Cum, baby boy. Fill me up."

Seungmin trembles and gives two final pushes inside of you before hitting his limit, groaning out as he cums. His fingers grips tight at your legs as he spurts hot cum all over your walls.

You whine as you feel his sperm coating your insides, dragging your nails down his back and letting out a loud moan as you finally cum around him, pussy swollen and tight, milking him till his last drop.

After what it seems to be hours, Seungmin collapses onto you and pants on your neck, his soft bangs all sweaty and curly on his face. You catch your breath for a few seconds before feeling him pulling out.

As his softening cock is pulled out of you, you feel all of your liquids leaking out of your entrance, mixed with his cum. You whine and Seungmin kisses your chin.

"Did I hurt you? Are you alright?"

"You didn't hurt me. I am great." You move your head to face him and he kisses your cheek. Then your nose. Then your lips. "I am just concerned about the state of our bed."

"Oh, well. I think Jeff Dahmer had a cleaner bed." He chuckles, after taking a quick look at the sheets underneath. "It's my fault. I will clean them myself."

"You better." You laugh. Seungmin laughs with you and it's a soft exhalation of breath that tickles your cheek.

"Yes ma'am". He shifts a little in your embrace, and you turn over so your cheek can rub against his shoulder.

"Does it still hurt?" He asks.

You let it out on a satisfied sigh, your cramps long forgotten. “Nope.”

"Good." He smiles softly and he kisses you on your forehead. You wrap your arms tightly around him and bite his shoulder.

"How can you always know... wait, no, it doesn’t matter."

The voices of your kdramas are still a background noise.

Seungmin chuckles. "I told you. I love you. I always know."

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