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suguann · 3 months

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PRETTIEST BABY—JJK MEN. * ˚ ✦

✎. they can't help it, they're kind of obsessed with you. | wc. 2k+

tags. fem!reader, thigh riding, slight food play, unprotected sex, mating press, spit play, object insertion, oral sex, threesome, spit roasting, rough sex, degradation, praise kink, pet names [18+ only]

featuring. nanami, sukuna, choso, gojo & geto

an. dividers by @/hitobaby | masterlist

↬ NANAMI

You don’t hear him when he walks in, too busy dancing around his kitchen to a song playing on the radio in that short sundress that always makes his pants feel tight. But at the sound of him setting his keys and briefcase down on the counter, you turn and give him a pretty little smile.

“Hey, I just put the kids down for a nap.” You pop a dollop of cream into your mouth from the bowl you’re holding. “How was work?”

Nanami can’t think straight enough to answer, too busy staring at your cheeks, how they suck in around your finger, and the sound of your hum when the sugar hits your tongue. The sound has him thinking about you humming like that around his cock, or wondering if you’d tease the purpling head the way you’re licking your finger.

He shouldn’t be thinking it at all—not when the babysitter should be here any minute to watch the boys.

But he can’t help it.

When you pull your finger out of your mouth, you have just enough time to squeak before his hand is palming the back of your head, and his lips come crashing down against yours.

He groans into your mouth, his hands carding down your sides before finding purchase at your hips to bunch in the skirt of your dress. You release the most adorable gasp when he picks you up, carrying you across the kitchen to sit in one of the dining chairs; his hold keeps you from falling off his lap as your legs drop from behind his back to around his thighs clumsily.

Nanami’s hands slide up from the swell of your hips until they cup your breasts, his thumb circling a nipple reverently.

“Prettiest tits,” he mumbles to himself.

You moan louder than you should with the kids right down the hall, your fingers flexing around his shoulders. “Oh!”

“Shh, honey,” he smiles faintly, pressing kisses against your open, panting mouth. “Don’t want to wake the kids.”

His thumbs brush against your nipples through your dress, his hands spanning almost the entire width of your rib cage. You shiver from how the fabric of your bralette and dress rub against sensitive, pebbling skin, creating an electric pulse with every pass that travels down to where you’re aching and empty.

You bury your face in his neck, rolling your hips over the hardness in his neatly pressed dress pants.

“Do you think you cum for me like this, sweetheart?” His lips move along your jaw, a distraction that makes your head fuzzy. But you still hear him, and your thighs clench around him in anticipation—a delicious sort of ache tingling up your spine with a subtle thrust of his hips against yours.

“I—ah—don’t think—not like this.”

“I think you can,” he coos, nosing at your neck, pressing another kiss there. “Come on, be a good little wife and cum for me.”

Oh, god. You’re going to cum from this—maybe from the filth dripping from your husband’s tongue alone.

Your thighs are slippery. You can feel it every time Nanami helps you roll your hips against him, and a sticky-hot heat swirls in your abdomen, moving all the way down to your curling toes. Your heart stutters in your chest to keep up with your rapid puffs of breath into his mouth.

You’re going to…You’re really going to—

His fingers twist your nipple, and like a switch, your mouth falls open in a silent scream, and you’re shaking in his lap. Nanami helps you move against him to ease you through it, whispering tiny indiscernible praises through the fog of syrupy bliss.

“So good for me.” You hear a zipper coming undone as your head slowly clears. “You can be good for me a little longer, and try to give me another, okay?”

↬ SUKUNA

He asks you to stay the night after he gets home late from a busy day at the gym—his clothes rumpled and hair sticking every which way. You get a little flustered at the thought of sleeping under the same roof as the stupidly attractive father to the kid you babysit, and you try to politely decline by saying, “I shouldn’t.”

“I can’t let you walk home in the dark,” he says, sounding just a tad tired as he heats up leftovers in the microwave. “Plus, Hana was disappointed when she found out you leave every night.”

“Really?” Hesitant, safe.

A little grin spreads across his face, making your breath stutter in your chest. “Yeah. Imagine how excited she’ll be when she finds you here in the morning.”

You bite your lip, already thinking about it. She is a sweet kid…

“If it’s…If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Cross my heart,” he tells you.

It’s surreal to think saying yes leads to him fucking you into his super soft king-sized mattress an hour later—you and Sukuna were never supposed to be a sweet mix of limbs and hot pants into each other’s mouths, and yet, here you are. If you’d known this would happen from wearing his clothes, you would have done it months ago.

He has two thick fingers pressed against your tongue to muffle your moans, the way you slightly gag around them sounding so much louder in your ears than the noises he’s trying to keep quiet. Your cunt feels swollen and sensitive just from him notching the head of his cock inside, only aided by the rough swipe of his thumb against your clit.

It’s already the most you’ve ever let any man do—no condom, nothing but slick skin—reasonable, responsible words turning to smoke with another inch inside you.

“Look at you,” he groans, a large hand covering the small impression of his dick pressing up against your belly. “So fucking tiny, I hardly fit.”

But he does fit, slipping in the last half inch, his thighs touching the back of yours, his fingers sliding a little deeper down your throat. The sudden need to get air into your lungs distracts you from the uncomfortable stretch between your thighs.

“Fuck, baby. Took me—ah—took me like a champ.” His breathing is labored, his voice rough. “How about a little more, okay?”

All you can do is nod, teary-eyed, whimpering.

When his fingers leave your mouth to palm the back of your thighs, you can’t control the too-loud whine that escapes your raw throat—high-pitched and surely reaching beyond his bedroom door. His shoulders press your legs further into your chest, making you feel smaller than you already are underneath his broad shoulders, and he brings his hand back up to your mouth to cover the moans you can’t hold in.

“Be quiet—so fucking tight, needed this—and let me fuck this toy cunt.”

↬ CHOSO

“Come on, baby, you can do it,” you tell the little boy, trying to make his way from the back steps to you sitting in the grass.

Choso watches from the porch, sucking on a lollipop as you play in the yard with his son. You hadn’t expected him to come home for a few more hours, and it’s hard not to look over at him, your cheeks hot from the amount of attention on you.

Neither of you spends much time together outside of a few pleasantries before and after work, asking about each other's day, him asking if Yuji was good for you—he always is—before you go home.

Then, one drunken night, you’d ruined everything by accidentally sending a nude to him (your boss, no less). Now, he hardly says a word to you; no, you leave in a rush—hair in your face, coat hanging off an arm—before he can open his mouth.

But Choso coming home right around Yuji’s naptime (he’s never home this early) is about to change that.

“So,” you start to say after setting the baby monitor down and curling up on the couch, “have you gone to that new Thai place down the street?”

“It’s down the street. Of course, I have.” He crosses the room, almost looking like a predator with the way he stalks towards you.

“Oh—”

In a matter of seconds, Choso easily has you pinned underneath him like a butterfly, the skirt of your dress pooling up around your waist. Your head spins from the proximity, chest heaving when he moves down, down—-

He lays on his stomach between your legs, carefully wrenching your soaked panties to the side to expose your cunt. Drenched and vulnerable on his couch, your thighs tremble as he parts your folds with his thumbs to reveal the wet, clenching part of you that’s suddenly desperate for his touch.

“You’re messy down here,” he hums, popping his sucker out of his mouth to spit against your folds. “Drippy.”

The melted red sugary confection drips from his mouth onto your clit before ducking his head to swipe his tongue through your slit, slurping up the mess he made.

“Choso—oh!”

Your hands fly to his hair, messing up the bun he has it in, and he groans into your cunt. It makes the muscles in your stomach jump, and you tip your head back against the arm of the couch. The noises he pulls from your throat are embarrassing, whimpers and moans that make you sound as desperate as you feel.

“Knew you’d taste sweet ever since you sent that picture of this pretty pussy.”

Another cry flies from your lips when he pushes the sucker inside you, and one of your hands comes up to cover your mouth, trying not to wake the baby—you don’t want this to end before it’s even really started.

“You look so cute spread out like this, letting me play with you like you’re mine.”

Then he suctions his soft lips over your clit, and your vision goes white.

↬ GOJO & GETO

You hadn't meant to interrupt your husband while he was in a meeting with Gojo. But it’d been important at the time—a reminder of an upcoming appointment that he forgot to mark on the calendar. Your daughter needed it for school.

Now you’re wondering if it could have waited—and at the same time, you’re glad you didn’t.

"Look at you, taking cock like a bitch in heat," Geto sneers down at you where you're sprawled out against the expensive leather couch in his office, mean fingers roughly tweaking your sensitive nipples raw through your sheer bra. "Couldn't wait for me to come home, huh?”

You whine around Gojo’s cock that’s currently stealing the air from your chest, his grip tight in your hair to keep you from pulling away.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, a grin on his lips. “Didn’t think your wife would be a good little cocksucker?”

You’re tacky-wet and sticky between your legs, staining Geto’s expensive pants, creating a large dark spot on the fabric below where his hips kiss the back of yours with every harsh thrust into you.

A distressed mewl leaves your lips when he reaches down to thumb at your clit. "Please," your voice cracks, garbled consonants, and vowels barely making sense on your tongue—overstimulated tears leaking past your hairline and onto the cushion under you.

“Shit, baby—” Gojo groans, practically fucking your face—a stark contrast from how Geto steadily presses in you. It makes you dizzy. “You keep whining like that, and you’re going to make me cum.”

Sweaty strands of hair cling to your temples as you writh underneath the two imposing men determined to ruin you. You feel like an exposed nerve—a tender bruise before it blooms—desperately chasing a release just out of your reach because Geto refuses to give it to you.

You don't stop yourself from bringing your fingers down to where he sinks into your slippery heat, hoping he'd just give in and fuck you how you want.

He scoffs but doesn't push your hand away. "Did I say you could touch my cock?"

You try moaning a response, only to have Gojo’s hips stutter into your mouth, a guttural sound releasing from his throat.

"But you're a slut for my cock, aren't you? Can't keep your—fuck—hands off it." You don't even answer, can't when the feeling of sticky ropes of cum paint your throat, making all the words stick to the back of your tongue—your mouth quivering as you remember to inhale through your nose.

Geto’s resolve slowly crumbles when you clench around his cock, his hips needily pressing into yours with a grunt. "Shit, princess, just like that. My messy, drooling slut."

Just when Gojo slips from your mouth, Geto starts pounding into you, making you squeal hoarsely and arch up into his firm chest. "Aah, yes! F-feels good!"

He brings the wide pad of his thumb up to your hot cheeks and wipes away the fresh set of tears collecting along your lash line. "C'mon, baby. Stop your crying and cum. Milk my cock with this greedy pussy of yours."

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loveindefinitely · 2 months

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༊*·˚ LIKE THE WAY I FUCK ('CAUSE I GET ROUGH) — an undercover mission with your superiors leads to compromised positions (in more ways than one)

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + könig

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, canon-divergence, age difference, slight power imbalance, jealous/possessive behaviour, discussions of violence, tags to be added

// NSFW CONTENT BELOW THE CUT //

Turns out, undercover missions involve a lot more make-up, perfume and dresses than you'd anticipated.

Being a seasoned task force operator, it's been months, if not years since you've been to a party outside of your barracks. Let alone one of this calibre; CEOs, billionaires on Forbes Top 50, politicians.

It's off-putting.

All of it; it's stressful, and it feels as though your skin's crawling, having so much skin on display, so many eyes on you at once. You feel as though you’re an animal at a zoo, being inspected by families with their snotty-nosed kids.

"Sit-rep, Diamond?"

Swallowing around a dry mouth, you reply to your lieutenant's request through your earpiece, tone low and careful. "All as planned, Lt."

Ghost hums a low sound in reply, and your shoulders loosen slightly from their tense position.

You knew that your superior was already inside, having arrived ten minutes earlier. A small, selfish part of you wished that you'd have arrived with him, if only to see how he cleaned up.

Ghost? In a suit? It's like one of your deepest, most dirty of desires come to life.

Such thoughts that you'd never let leave your lips -- thoughts too likely to wreck your entire career and any opportunity to keep your relationship with the man.

"König?" Is Ghost's next question, although it's just the other man's name alone.

Right.

König.

The other superior featured in your dreams. Thoughts. Wank-material?

Whatever they are, they're becoming all too common, all too realistic, and all too risky.

"Successful entry," König replies, heavily accented voice low and quiet -- he's amongst people.

Your limo comes to a stop outside of the decorated museum, and a suited man opens your door with gloved hands. His upper lip is covered in a well-groomed pencil moustache, and you have to stifle a chuckle. Soap would’ve appreciated it.

With a small smile, you incline your head towards him, lifting up the fabric of your skirt so it doesn't brush against the gravel. It’s so… impractical, and you really can’t help but respect those that dress up like this on a regular basis. Looking down at your outfit, you let out a low breath.

When Gaz and Soap had burst into your room with shit-eating grins and a garment bag, you had just known that your dress was going to be... extravagant at best, and downright sinful at worst.

You were correct, of course.

So, here you are, walking down the red carpet into the building, cameras flashing and paparazzi screaming, in this... dress.

Silky black, strapless, and with crossing lines of fabric across your bare back. Chiffon skirts fall behind you, with a slit rising all the way up to where your thigh meets your hip bone. A gun hides beneath, strapped around your inner thigh, paired with your right, adorning a delicate yet hefty knife.

You look... not at all like a Sergeant on Task Force 141.

You look like a celebrity, one just out of her fans' reach. It's a surreal experience, and the mere thought of your two superiors (crushes) seeing you like this... It's frightening. Maddening. And, maybe, a tad bit exhilarating.

Gaz had insisted on doing your make-up -- having so many sisters made him a fully-fledged artist, apparently. And an artist he was, talented with the brushes of eyeshadow and flicks of eyeliner against your skin.

Soap, for his part, had begged for you to let him do your hair -- but considering his only experience was his mohawk, you were less than lenient. With a huff, he’d let you go to Laswell’s wife with the request, as long as he picked out your jewellery.

And now, hours later, your heels click against the stone tile as you enter the museum.

Soft lighting cascades all of the guests in gentle hues of yellow, laughter and polite mingling surrounding you as you enter the main ballroom, skirts brushing against your legs.

Chandeliers above glisten, a live-band plays beautiful jazz, and servers walk around with trays of champagne and finger foods.

It's nothing like you've ever experienced.

This mission, somehow, terrifies you more than the weight of a sniper in your hand and an order to neutralise.

"Target, six o'clock," Ghost's voice carries through your comms as you take position near the corner of the room. There’s fewer people here, and it allows you a moment to breathe and recalibrate.

Your eyes dart to the direction your lieutenant has supplied, and you catch sight of your target immediately. "Got eyes," you murmur softly, smile on your face as you pretend to fix your hair.

"Affirmative," König answers then.

"I haven't seen you before."

Whipping around to the source of the words, you find yourself face to face with a man who you've seen the face of too many times to count.

"Apologies for startling you," he inclines his head respectfully. He's got a few inches on you -- although you find it hard to consider him tall when you're with your superiors more often than not. His skin is closely-shaved, his blonde hair gelled to the nines -- and a smarmy, trust-fund baby smirk to top it all off.

Extending his hand, he announces, "I'm Phillip. Phillip Graves."

...Graves.

The last name of your target -- the son of your target.

"I'm Louise," you say with a sweet smile, taking his hand and shaking it. Your undercover name was going to have to come into play sooner than you'd hoped. "It's a lovely atmosphere, isn't it?"

"Positive, Diamond?" Ghost's deep voice instantly responds to your subtle codeword.

"Not as lovely as you, I'm sure," Phillip flirts, and you pretend to bat your lashes and hide your face from him.

"Ah... thank you, Sir. You're quite dashing yourself," you meekly reply, giving him a soft smile.

Men like this were so easily played, you found. Not at all like the military men you were surrounded with on such a constant basis. Not at all like…

You can hear both König and Ghost swear underneath their breaths. Releasing the hold on your bracelet -- the one with the built-in comms button -- you shyly bite at your lower lip.

Phillip’s eyes track the movement, and if not for the stakes of this mission, it'd be almost comical.

"May I have this dance?" He asks, offering his arm for you to take. He’s adorning an obviously wealthy suit, dark blue and silky – and it rubs you in all the wrong ways.

You can hear your heart pound in your ears -- this wasn't the way the mission was supposed to go. But, then again, you didn't get into Task Force 141 by expecting every mission to go as planned.

"I would love to, Sir," you smile, wrapping your hand around his arm, allowing him to escort you to the main dance floor.

Subtly folding your hands together around his arm, you're able to push down the button on your bracelet. "You want us to dance in the middle of everyone? I'm not the best of dance partners..."

Phillip chuckles, but through your inner ear piece, you can hear König report, "Got eyes, Diamant."

Chills run down your spine. Either from this situation or…

Or something else that you're not entirely supposed to -- or allowed to -- feel. Not for those two men, and certainly not for your superiors.

"I'll lead you, darlin’," Phillip leans down to whisper into your ear, his lips brushing against your skin. They’re thin, and chapped against your own skin.

His hand moves to sit at your lower back, just above your ass, and the other moves down your arm to interlace your fingers with his. It's an intimate position, your front pressing against his as he starts to lead you with the beat.

Of course you knew how to dance; you wouldn't have been picked for this role if you couldn't.

However, you deliberately misstep a few times, just to play into Phillip’s ego -- his desire for control and intelligence.

"For such a beautiful girl, you sure aren't the smartest," he jests, and it takes everything within you not to just swing your fist and leave him twitching on the dance floor. You could, realistically speaking, but that would cost you all the mission. And you would not let yourself, nor König or Ghost, down.

Instead, you nervously flit your gaze from him, moving in closer to his chest. By his squeeze on your lower back, you know it's the right decision. "I... I'm doing my best, Sir."

You want to crawl out of your own skin at the way you’re feeding into his misogyny, how you’re downplaying your own strengths.

He huffs, a demeaning, cruel thing.

"I want to shoot 'im," you hear Ghost mutter, and you'd be a liar to say that those words in that tone don't make you clench your thighs together as you sway against Phillip.

"Make it a competition, ja?" König quips. There's... irritation -- anger, maybe -- behind his question. It's so unlike the gentle giant of a man, and that fact alone has your breath coming out in a short pant.

Phillip, of course, thinks it's him making you so flushed.

With a vindictive smirk, he spins you, completely throwing you off balance. Maybe a tad too dramatically, you find yourself falling into his arms, giggling a little bit.

...It's worth it to hear Ghost grumble under his breath through the comms.

This whole situation doesn't feel quite real, and you know that their attitudes are nearly definitely due to the stray in plans. That's fine. That's all it can possibly be. It’s all that you’ll allow it to be.

But your mind has never been kind, and your imagination has always had the habit of wandering.

"Let's go get some drinks, hm?" Phillip asks, his hand falling dangerously close to 'inappropriate hand placement' territory.

You shoot him a seductive smile, nodding as he pulls you to the open bar, his arm wrapped tight around your waist, leaving you glued to his side. It’s a possessive position, and you find yourself wishing it was either of your superiors holding you in such a way instead.

"Don't drink anything he offers you," Ghost warns. You almost have the mind to chew him out for not trusting you with something so obvious, but... There's something about such subtle

protectiveness that only feeds your elementary style crush on the man.

"I would love to," you reply as Graves leads you to the bar, hand only moving lower with every step the two of you take. Fear trickles down your spine, your hands squeezing tightly together at your front.

"Say the word and we get you outta' there, Princess," Ghost quips, sharp and to the point.

With your hands already together, you manage to reply an agreement in Morse code -- quick, successive taps of the communications button.

"Good girl," König replies, just a touch breathy from the quietness of his words.

You manage not to trip on your feet, but it's a close thing.

a small snippet, because i feel really bad for my lack of posts!! life is so insane atm its like a satire.

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fox-guardian · 2 months

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[ID: An eight page digital comic featuring Sam, Celia, and Alice from The Magnus Protocol on a gray background. The characters are all colored with a single color each. Sam is red, Celia is green, and Alice is pink. Sam is a fat Arab man with short curly dark hair, a mustache, and a small goatee, and he is wearing small black earrings, a cardigan, a turtleneck, trousers and loafers. Celia is a taller Korean woman with short dark hair and she is wearing rectangular glasses, piercings including an industrial piercing, an x-shaped earring, and snakebites, a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a vest, trousers, and black wrist cuffs. Alice is an even taller white woman with long fluffy hair and crooked teeth, and she is wearing cat eye glasses, three pairs of earrings, snakebites, a flannel shirt, a hoodie tied around her waist, a patchwork skirt, bracelets, and a lanyard.

Sam and Celia are stood at a table covered in papers. Celia urgently turns to Sam. Celia: Alice is coming! She can't catch us researching, we need a diversion, QUICK! How can we make her think we're not doing what we're doing? Sam, shrugging really hard: UHHHH she thinks I have a crush on you?? Celia, sweating, turns back to where Alice is coming from, panicked, and turns back to Sam, shrugging and reaching for him. Celia smiling a bit manically: Yeah, that'll work, sure!

Sam, with Celia's hands grabbing his cardigan: Wait whaAAAA- He is pulled out of frame. Alice walks in: Hey Sam, working hard or hardly woOOOAA She leans on the doorframe as she holds a hand to her chest in shock.

The next panel is rendered with soft pink shadows and "shoujo sparkles" in the now pink background. Sam is sitting on the table holding onto Celia, whose face is buried in his neck as she wraps one arm around his back and the other holds up one of his legs under his knee. Neither of their faces are visible. The rest of the page fades back to gray from there. Sam and Celia look over at Alice, hair ruffled, Sam is now blushing. Sam: ALICE!! He pushes Celia away and they look at each other for a moment, panicked. Sam: It's- .... exactly what it looks like! Celia: Aw, you've caught us! He rests his hands on her shoulders and they both look in opposite directions as though embarrassed. Celia is also blushing lightly. There are red and green neon signs pointing to them reading "Totally Ham-Slammin'" and "GAY! (in an M/F way)" respectively.

Alice looks to be in shock with a vacant expression and a computer pop up over her forehead reading "Alice.exe has stopped responding". In the next panel she is fine again and back to smirking. Alice: WOW SAM, didn't know you had it in you! Now I'm no snitch, so I didn't see anything, BUT- you lovebirds should cut it out before Gwen catches you. Celia and Sam look at each other anxiously, cheeks pressed together as she speaks. Alice: You KNOW she'd tell Lena. Celia, pulling back and smoothing her hair out: Oh, for sure. Sam: Th-Thanks, Alice. Alice: Don't mention it! I'll give you crazy kids a minute to straighten up, TA-TA~ She waves as she leaves.

Sam and Celia listen to her steps fade before going "phew" and finally pulling away from each other, now holding hands at an arms distance. Celia: You alright? That was kinda sudden.... Sam: It's fine! Just a bit caught off guard. Celia: I can't believe she actually bought all of that! Sam: Me either! Works for me, though.

Celia: Did you want to get down- Sam, pulling away suddenly, blushing again: NO! He crosses his legs and looks away sheepishly, scratching his head. Sam: I wanna stay here another minute or so.... Celia, concerned: You sure you're alright? Sam: Yeah! Just, er.... Celia looks at him, confused. Sam, blushing increasingly harder: Ahem. (He folds his hands in his lap politely.) I am not immune to being thrown on a table. Celia, smiling and politely stepping away: AH! .... Noted~

She walks away casually, still smiling. Celia: I'll give you a minute to collect yourself. Sam, head down in his lap, embarrassed: Thanks.... He looks up after she leaves. Sam: Wait. He straightens up, slightly panicked, face entirely red. Sam: What do you mean by "NOTED"?!

end ID]

~~~~

i am SO glad this episode didn't entirely debunk the silly headcanon that birthed this comic. initially i wasn't convinced sam actually had a crush so i made this like "well if he didn't before, HE DOES NOW" so.... here's this silly comic thing <3 i just think they're neat <3

#fg's art #the magnus protocol #tmagp #samama khalid #celia ripley #alice dyer #do sam and celia have a shipname yet. idk.#also i am REALLY proud of the expressions in this one #also also if you see inconsistencies no you don't <3 #also also also i hope the id is good!! still not used to doing comics and stuff but i hope it works!

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another-lost-mc · 9 months

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a/n: the younger brothers and dateables will be coming later, I didn't want this post to get too long.

size kink feat. the older brothers

nsfw (suggestive and explicit) | 1.5k words | gn!reader

content warnings: implied short reader and size/strength kink (is that a thing? it is now.) slight predator/prey kink and demon form mentioned (lucifer); ab riding/face sitting/reader on top (mammon); being a perv, blowjobs (levi).

LUCIFER

realization

Lucifer really notices your height—or lack thereof—the first time you stand up against him. You cross your arms over your chest and glare at him in defiance, voice raised in defense of his troublesome siblings and arguing against the punishment he decided for them. He always wondered how long it would take for you to finally break through that passive shell of yours. It's lovely to finally feel some pride radiating from you too, and it makes you even more enticing. Unfortunately, he'll have to savor this moment later—he still has an image to uphold, and he's not going to be dressed down publicly by someone so small. He meets your anger with his own authoritative stubbornness, a clash of wills that will inevitably end in your surrender like all your other disagreements with him in the past. He bends at the waist so that his face is directly in front of yours, your noses nearly brushing as he smirks.

"Care to repeat that for me one more time? I couldn't hear you all the way down here."

nsfw

Some nights when Lucifer takes you to bed, he scoops you into his arms and carries you over the threshold to his room while you melt against his chest. Other nights you skirt out of his gasp and dart away, teasing him with a little thrill of the hunt. Your playful taunts echo in the halls and lust surges through the blood that pumps in his veins. All he has to do is follow your scent and you're his. It doesn't matter how much of a head start he gives you because the chase ends the same way every time: being lifted into his arms and tossed on his oversized bed. You bounce on the mattress and barely have time to catch your breath before he's suddenly on top of you and caging you underneath him. His hands fist the sheets on either side of your head and his facial features blur when he leans down, eager to capture your lips as his hard-earned prize. Once he's peeled away your clothes—or ripped them off, depending on how long you teased him with your little game—he can finally smother your soft, naked body with his own. He positions you whatever way he likes: easily raising your hips to meet his steady thrusts, or pushing back on your thighs when he folds you in half and buries himself even deeper in the soft, tight heat of your body. His raven-black wings unfurl at his back and block everything else from sight. The feathers twitch with pleasure and brush against the sides of your body. You're completely enveloped by him—all you can see in the dark canopy of his embrace is his smoldering ruby eyes and his lips curling around the shape of your name when he comes.

MAMMON

realization

Mammon is used to running away from things: his problems, his debt collectors, Lucifer. He's fast and slippery and hard to catch. When you become his unofficial partner in crime, he expects you might have some trouble keeping up—you're only human, after all—but damn, can't you run just a bit faster? When you both stop to catch your breath, or rather when he stops so you can catch your breath, you complain about his long legs and demonic stamina, blah blah blah. He knew you were short, but are you that much shorter than him? You lean against the wall for support while you wait for the burning in your lungs and legs to ease up, completely oblivious to the way his eyes rake up and down your body. He glances at his hands and back to your legs. Y'know, I bet I could wrap my whole hand around those thighs, and—

nsfw

Mammon feels like he's giving control to someone else when he takes you to bed. You hold so much wicked power over him, and the fact that you're so much smaller makes the sensation even more intoxicating. You squirm nervously in his lap while his eyes rake over your bare skin and he licks his lips. It's so fuckin' hot for both of you because he gives you this power freely. You can tease him with kisses and grind slowly against his hips, or you can bounce on his cock while you chase your own pleasure and deny him his. Both of you know that within a blink of an eye, he could easily flip you over and fold you in half before he fucks you senseless, or he could put you on your knees and push your shoulders to the mattress for an even deeper angle when he buries himself to the hilt. He could do that if he wanted to, but for now, he can be patient. He strokes between your legs with his thick fingers and stretches you open while you straddle his abs and try not to smear yourself all over his tummy. Maybe if your scent drives him crazy, he'll curl his hands around your thighs and drag you up his body 'til his tongue can flick against your entrance. There's nothing sweeter than the way you whimper his name and tangle your fingers in his hair while he sucks greedily at the slick arousal between your legs. Each tug on his hair makes his cock ache and his resolve starts to splinter. Maybe you're not the one in control, after all.

LEVIATHAN

realization

Levi likes the feeling of your body leaning against his when you sit next to each other on the sofa in his room. It's not convenient for gaming—your elbows bump each other and it messes up the controls something fierce—but for watching movies or anime? He doesn't call it cuddling but that's basically what this is. He drapes one of his favourite blankets over both your laps and sometimes there's a bowl of popcorn between you, or you pass a box of candy back and forth to each other. Your head rests against his shoulder and sometimes when he turns towards you, his chin grazes over the top of your head. If you squirm a bit to readjust yourself, he looks over and just happens to peek down the gap of your shirt. He glances away while his face burns bright red because he didn't mean to. Now that he knows how easy it is, it gets harder and harder not to look at the bare glimpses of skin you inadvertently put on display for him. He feels bad and just a little dirty, but he can't help it. He couldn't resist your charms before, why should he try to deny the temptation now? So what if he spends the rest of the movie imagining you in other less-than-innocent ways—he's seen this movie plenty of times. You won't even know he wasn't paying attention, and he can get away with letting his fantasies run wild while you cuddle beside him unaware.

nsfw

Sometimes it's hard to get Levi's attention if he's busy playing games or if he's engrossed in a movie he really enjoys. If one more boss fight turns into two more boss fights, or even three, it's not your fault if you have to resort to dirty tactics. He usually spreads his legs wide when he's at his desk or on his sofa—it's comfortable, and he's used to being selfish with his space and not considering whether his guests need leg room too. It's so convenient that nothing turns him on more than the sight of you sinking to your knees and shuffling between his legs. You look so small kneeling at his feet, and your hands can barely wrap around his cock when you pull it free from the tight confines of his pants and guide the tip into your mouth. You lick over the slit and lap up the pearly beads of precum before sliding your lips down inch by inch. It's the perfect combination of slick heat and tight pressure that makes him dizzy, and you can almost feel the deep, rumbling groan that reverberates in his chest. Each time you bob your head, he pants a little faster and his whines sound a little more desperate—your spit dribbles down his shaft and it eases the glide. It sounds so lewd and hot when you hollow your cheeks and suck on the tip before swallowing him back down. Sometimes his hips jerk up when you flick your tongue just right; you can't fit him all into your mouth and you choke a little when his cock hits the back of your throat. He feels bad because he likes it when you sputter around him, and it's not much longer before he's whimpering your name and spilling his release into your mouth. If he's really lucky, you won't be able to swallow it all and he can watch his cum smear across your mouth and drip slowly down your chin.

#obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #lucifer x reader #mammon x reader #leviathan x reader #lucifer smut #mammon smut #leviathan smut #lucifer x mc #mammon x mc #leviathan x mc #obey me x reader #obey me smut #x reader #gn!reader

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schrodingerscougar · 2 months

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To Simon, you had always been Johnny’s girl. The two of you quickly became inseparable after you joined the team, spending long hours and nights talking about various things, joking on the comms while on the field, visiting each other in the infirmary, and even staying at each other’s places between missions.

You had never really shown interest in him. He was your superior, so you were always respectful, but you kept your distance. Maybe it was better this way. There was that one time a few months ago when he could’ve sworn he saw you sitting next to his bed in the infirmary after an injury, but when he asked the nurse, she confirmed that no one came to visit that night.

He knew he was catching feelings and he knew that was bad news. Every now and then he tried to get some answers out of Johnny about his relationship with you. What were you like in your civilian life? How did you dress? Did you wear makeup? Did you cook for him? Were you a perfect little housewife material out there?

“She’s the sweetest gal I’ve ever met,” Johnny told him with a dreamy look in his blue eyes. And then he would go on and on about your skirts and skin tight tops, your light, barely noticeable makeup, and the delicious meals you made just for him.

And then one day Simon was shot on the field and spent three days knocked out. When he woke up, he noticed you sitting by his bed, a scene that was eerily familiar to him. You were scrolling on your phone, eyes fixed on the screen so you didn’t even notice he was awake. He didn’t tell you, instead he used this opportunity to study your features as if he hadn’t done this a million times before.

He couldn’t stay awake for too long, and by the time he woke up, you were already gone. A doctor came to see him, looking surprised when he found out there was no one else in there. “She left? Huh, it’s quite early for that,” he noted.

Simon didn’t understand. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, your sergeant spent every night here with you since you were brought in. I don’t even know when was the last time she slept.”

This was the moment he realized maybe you had your reasons to keep your distance. But if—and that was a big if—you had feelings for him, why were you spending so much time in Johnny’s company? Well, that was the million dollar question he wouldn’t get an answer to anytime soon knowing the pair of you.

(Part 2)

#fem!reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost #ghost x reader #john mactavish #modern warfare #john soap mactavish #soap #mw2 #mw3

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neuvistar · 9 months

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ASS, TITS OR THIGHS?

— featuring ┊satoru gojo, toji fushiguro, suguru geto, kento nanami, choso kamo x fem!reader (all separate)

— warnings / content warnings ┊suggestive obvi, not proofread oops, cunnilingus, uhm uhm use of nicknames, riding, mentions of titfucking, overall suggestive content | 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

— a/n ┊jujutsu kaisen hyperfixation got the best of me guys i betrayed u all and accidentally became a gojo + sukuna liker i’m sorry. apology coming soon /j 😔

𖦹 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

let’s be real here.. i know damn well this guy is definitely a tit man. cmon it’s just this feeling in me that can sense this guy’s love for titties, he’s the number one tit lover guys im telling you! i bet gojo is def the type to stand behind you and tower over you) at random times and slowly slip his large hands into your shirt, squeezing your tits like it’s the most casual thing for him! of course you wouldn’t mind.. so you would just carry on with whatever you were doing. up until he nuzzles against your nape, inhaling your scent as his fingers tug and pinch at your sensitive nipples, smirking against your skin when he hears you whimper at his touch. this guy makes your head spin sometimes it’s actually insane. “ooh. they’re soft.” “that’s how they’re supposed to be, dumbass” ngl i feel like gojo would love your tits for the dumbest reason ever, like since he’s rlly rlly tall i feel like he would like your tits all because “they’re easier to reach” LMFAO he’s so silly! this guy probably love’s embarrassing you sometimes cuz he would grab your tits literally ANYWHERE (if ur fine w it ofc) in conclusion.. he loves seeing you all embarrassed whenever he brings a hand to cup your tits in his hand!

gojo here loves stuffing his face in your tits, he doesn’t care.. it’s the ocean he wants to dive into 2nite lol! anyways sometimes during sweet little cuddle sessions he would straight up pull you up by your hips and press himself closer against your body before leaning down to drown his face in the softness your tits, cmon.. can you blame him? but anyways! gojo loves your titties regardless.. big or small, small or big, he’ll still be willing to shove his face in ‘em! he definitely has a thing for titfucking, you just.. look so hot laying there all sweet for him, squeezing your tits against his hard cock while he thrusts in between them, trying his best not to overdo it. “f—fuck.. they’re so soft.. so perfect. no one has ever fucked your tits like this like i have right, angel? mhm? look at them.. s’pretty and all mine.” he pinched your nipples rather harshly, forcing a whine to leave your pretty lips. “all mine, yeah?”

𖦹 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

look me in the eyes and tell me toji fushiguro doesn’t look like the ultimate ass man ever, cmon tell me! are we really surprised tho? are we REALLY surprised? he looks like the biggest ass man known to mankind it’s not even funny at this point he loves ass he mfing does i tell you. this old hag probably steals a few glances at your ass from time to time whenever you wear a skirt.. or a dress for special occasions, toji cant control himself bro it’s not his fault you had allat back there.. it’s not his fault for looking it was an accident! (no it was not and you knew it) ngl the first time he caught a glimpse of your ass he probably said “damn.” so loudly, loud and clear for you to hear. “damn.” you heard a familiar voice behind you, glancing over your shoulder to see your boyfriend’s intense gaze at your bottom. “i knew your ass was nice but i didn’t know it was this nice.. damnn.” “oh shut up, will you?” idk abt u guys but toji is probably the type to slap it while you walk past him sometimes.. like it’s so unexpected you just straight up flinch and glare up at him, rubbing it to try and ease the pain bc i bet his slaps HURT sometimes

toji 100% a fan of you taking it from the back.. he loves it! i mean do i need to explain further? though he loves seeing your facial expressions to see just how well he fucks you but i feel like he prefers to see your ass and well-defined back. you have this man in a TRANCE. no matter how hard he tries to focus on you, his eyes always manage to wander down to your rear. he loves pounding into you mercilessly like there’s no tomorrow just to see the jiggle physics of yo ass because gahhh dayummmm he loves the way it moves, my guy probably spanks too i’m telling u this dude loves ass, especially yours.. it’s an unhealthy obsession at this point idk what to tell u 🤷‍♀️

𖦹 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎

suguru def a thigh man, i don’t even know my reasoning but he just screams thigh man.. like he seems like the type to love them ykwim? like he just loves diving into them any time he gets, holding your thighs against his hands while he pushes them to your chest. he def loves eating you out just so he can feel your thighs caging around his head, he loves how soft they are, how warm they feel whenever he gives them a little squeeze. personally i bet this fucker is probably a lil crazy about your thighs, just a little bit! whenever you sit on his face, he pushes you even more against his mouth. his tongue is talented that’s all i have to say, suguru doesn’t give two fucks if he can’t breath against your overstimulated pussy, he wants you to crush him with your pretty thighs thighs.. he wants your thighs to be the last thing he feels + sees before he suffocates and dies a happy man! suguru would keep you spread on his face, not caring about anything else in the world but you and your plushy thighs around his head. buddy probably eats you out like it’s his last, squeezing and helping your thighs trap his face in between them. god, he loves your thighs

suguru wrapped his lips around your pussy again, forcefully pulling you even closer until his nose was bumping against your clit, was that even possible? “s—su.. suguru!” one orgasm, then the next.. and the next after that, he hasn’t even came up for air.. you were worried at how much your thighs caged around his head, worrying about suffocating further. you tried pulling yourself up, looking down at him as your lips quivered. “suguru you okay?—“ no. he was most definitely not! he was struggling 2 breath but he didn’t give TWO FUCKS!! “your thighs.. feel so warm around me. sit back down, princess. i’m not done.. ‘wanna feel your pretty thighs against me again.” “.. but are you sure? you were struggling to breathe i could feel it—“ “sit, princess. i said sit. do i need to repeat myself?” no siiiirrr 🙅‍♀️

𖦹 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

ngl out of everyone here nanami is the most “normal” and tamed if this question ever comes along, my guy would probably answer with something like “they’re just body parts. is there even a reason to pay attention to female assets?” uhm. no obviously not but they’re hot ++ the question is important smartass. tbh i feel like nanami wouldn’t really care, he just.. appreciates you for being there by his side, he wouldn’t really care much about your body and what he likes about it, cuz babe he loves everything about you! such a sweetheart! but in all seriousness, i feel like he’d really be into your tits for some reason.. i mean come on! sometimes if he’s feeling a lil extra EXTRA bold be would sneak a few glances towards your cleavage, swallowing the lump in his throat as he notices you didn’t have a bra on that day. nanami would literally fight for his life and try his best to restrain himself n his desires every single time he would see you in any outfit that shows your cleavage.

i bet there was this one time you guys were about to cook together n you needed help with the apron so he helped you tie it, but then his hand accidentally brushed against your breast LMFAO. poor guy would realize slowly after and start contemplating his whole life and life decisions, apologizing to you sincerely and that he didn’t mean to do that! “kento seriously it’s fine, i don’t mind! if you wanted to touch them, you could’ve said so.” “i told you it was an accident, love. it’s not like that at all.” you chuckled at him before grabbing his hand and slowly bringing it close to your tits, making him touch em as the soft skin of your tits melt into his palm. “soft right?” you cooed, wincing a little when you felt his thumb brushing against your hardened nipple. “..mm.” cmon kento ⁉️ don’t be in denial! accept yourself as a certified tittie liker!

𖦹 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎

tbh this guy could love all three of these, like there is not a single part of you he loves more than the other but if he really had to choose.. he would probably be fond of your ass, making him a semi ass man despite him.. probably liking all three! but then again.. lemme just say.. i know an ass/tit man when i see one (n he looks like one but my pick for today is ass) poor choso probably caught himself looking at your ass for a whole minute and he had to slap himself for a second to get himself back to reality, he can’t help it! your body is so hypnotic to him. i bet he’s also the type to give your bottom little taps and pokes whenever he needs something from you (damn) ++ my guy is probably a fan of you taking it from the back also, just like toji! listen listen okay. listen. reverse cowgirl position. lemme tell u he gets SOOO flustered whenever you ride him with your back turned against him, bouncing yourself on his cock while he can’t help but look down at your ass and how much it moved (lolz!) and how well your cunt was sucking him in! choso probably the type to bring a hand up to pull your hair, running his fingers through your hair as he tugs your back to him with your back arched, planting soft chaste kisses on your neck

choso doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable in anyway so he absolutely refuses to even plant a lil smack to your ass, even just a soft one! he would hold himself back n wouldn’t do it unless you wanted him too! if you do.. expect a lot of them coming your way because i bet he loves seeing your ass jiggle LIKEEE ITS NOT EVEN FUNNY NO MORE i bet his cock would twitch inside you every single fucking time he would see the jiggle physics of your ass! like i said.. he’s a fan of you taking it from the back! jiggle physics go absolutely craaaaazy 😝🙏

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euphemiaamillais · 3 months

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dealer — coriolanus snow

you can’t help it, but your dealer, snow, is just so hot. and when you’re buying weed from him, you can’t resist offering him an alternative form of payment…

cw: 18+//weed-smoking//handjobs//fingering (f. receiving)//dealer!coryo

it was embarrassing, really, how hot you found your dealer. of course, he’d really been your friend’s dealer first, before you met him you’d never even tried weed before, but when you found out he was hot—pretty much perpetually shirtless, toned, with a blonde buzzcut and icy blue eyes—you started saying you smoked just to have an excuse to see him.

you had come to see him today to pick up, but you’d put extra effort into your appearance. a little bit of eyeshadow and mascara; not too much to be noticeable, but enough that it brought out your best features. you’d also made sure to wear your shortest skirt, and was planning on ‘accidentally’ dropping something so you’d have to bend over and show him your lacy thong.

so here you are, sitting on the couch with him, his arm resting behind your shoulders. close enough to touch you, but not enough that it seemed purposeful. he moves his arm away for a moment, reaching forward and beginning to grab the skins and weed to roll a blunt.

you never smoked a lot when you were with him, saying you had to drive home or you had to work afterwards, but really it was because you’d never had more than a few puffs. you ended up giving most of the weed to your friends. it was becoming a little obvious now, but he had. never called you out on it, yet.

you watch him lick the paper, his nimble fingers rolling it up firmly. he’s done it thousands of times, and as you gaze at him, you feel your heart flutter. there’s something so attractive about the way his biceps flex, and how his tongue darts out just so. you feel your core burning, and your hand tenses around the arm of the couch.

‘there you go, princess,’ he says with a smile, handing you the perfect rolled blunt.

he reaches for his lighter, and as you hold the blunt to your glossy lips, he lights you up. your cheeks redden as his pinky brushes against your chin, ever-so-slightly. you take a small drag, the blunt wedged between your middle and forefinger.

‘thanks,’ you say with a slight cough. you’ve never been very well-practised at smoking, but he doesn’t tease you for it.

he takes a hit himself, his expert lips sucking in a heavy drag, and you wonder what that mouth would feel like against your own. you shift a little in your seat, foot tapping nervously. the first drag of weed doesn’t seem to calm you, so when he hands it back to you, you take a longer drag.

your head spins slightly, and you see him smiling at you through the haze the puff has induced. when that fades, he’s still smiling, and he seems to have moved several inches closer to you.

‘you look nice today, princess,’ he murmurs, taking the blunt from you and taking another hit.

‘thanks, snow,’ you blush, eyes flickering down to your thighs. you can’t help but realise how bear they are, how your skirt has crept up so high that you can make out the pink lace fabric of your panties.

‘you always look nice though,’ he strokes your cheek, hand surprisingly cold. you’d always thought he was warm, judging by the fact that he was either in a white tank top or a shirtless. ‘but today… something’s different.’

‘well, i am wearing makeup,’ you admit shyly, and he chuckles.

his icy eyes flicker down to your legs, the way they’ve curled up, and when you move your knees absentmindedly, he can’t help but spy your panties. a breath catches in his throat, and he moves his gaze back to yours, not wanting to seem like he was perving on you. he can’t get the image out of his mind though, the way he could see the outline of your folds through the sheer lace fabric.

but he can’t. you’re so innocent and sweet. and he’s… well, he’s caught up in a world he doesn’t want to involve you in. you are so pretty though, and always pay him properly, and you have perfect manners. he wishes half the girls that bought from him were as kind as you. of course, you’re special. he always gives you discounts, the special treatment. not that he’d ever tell you, of course. but you’ve never questioned that he gives you 5 grams for only twenty bucks when the going rate is fifty.

you catch the way his eyes dance with want, and maybe it’s the weed that’s given you a newfound self-confidence, or perhaps you’re just taking the chance, but you find yourself speaking before you can even think it through.

‘can i pay you a different way, today?’ you bite your lip, and are returned with a cocked brow.

‘you not have cash today, princess?’ he asks, a little bit frustrated. it’s so complicated when he has to take card, and god forbid the bank asks him where his money is coming from.

you tilt your head to the side, trying not to be too obvious, but he catches a glimmer of desire in your eyes. you lean in closer to him, breath pressing against his cheek. your lips are curved up delicately.

‘i mean, i do, but,’ you pause for a moment, and his mouth draws into a thin line of understanding. ‘i wanted to pay you another way…’

you run your hand up his thigh, feeling the hard muscles under his pants, and watch as he lets out a heavy sigh. he can’t help but begin to harden as your hand inches closer to his cock. he didn’t think you wanted him like he did you, but of course, it makes sense now. the way you had put in extra effort today, how you’d sat in a manner that revealed your panties.

‘you don’t have to, princess,’ he murmurs, and you shake your head, adamant.

‘but i want to… if it’s okay with you, of course,’ your brows arch innocently.

he nods, groaning as you palm his bulge. he can’t believe that you, with your innocent, sweet face, are touching him like this. it feels wrong, but he’s hard in an instant, cock aching as you caress him.

‘fuck, princess,’ he grunts, unable to stop himself from bucking into your palm.

your nimble fingers move to unzip his jeans, and when you slide down his boxers too, your mouth waters at the sight. his cock is pressing against his stomach, and god, it’s so, so big. it’s a little bit daunting, really. you thumb the tip of his cock, earning another groan from his lips.

‘can i?’ you inquire, moving your hand away and bringing it just below your mouth in order to cup your palm.

‘course, not going to complain if you wanna jerk me off,’ he half-laughs, settling further back into the couch.

you spit in your palm, and take your hand right against his cock, stroking him up and down. you give him a smile, but his eyes have fluttered shut, and his lips have stretched around a moan. he can’t believe how good it feels, and perhaps it’s because he’s been dreaming of it at times, but the way you squeeze him, and bring your thumb back over his tip drives him wild.

‘fuck,’ he sighs, a little in disbelief that you’re so good at this.

you continue to stroke him as he grinds into your palm, and as you see him grow with more desire, you use your free hand to pump the base, because he’s just that big. you clench your thighs together, heat pooling at your thighs as you jerk him off.

‘you’re so big,’ you blush, continuing pump your hand at the base of his cock while you squeeze the tip with your other.

he laughs a little, but is cut off by a low moan as you squeeze him between your palm. he doesn’t know how much more he can take, though your face is gazing so innocently at him, your hands are stroking him with filthy intentions; and it feels so good. he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and your cheeks burn with a soft flush, feeling giddy but also swamped with want.

‘fuck, princess, think i’m gonna cum,’ he grunts, rutting into your hand.

he gives a few more thrusts, and when you swipe your thumb over the leaking head of his cock again, hot spurts come out onto your hand. his breath hitches, and you let out a soft giggle as your hand becomes sticky with his cum.

you offer him a sweet smile as you lick the cum off your hand, and he can’t help but sigh at the sight of you licking up every last drop of him. it’s so erotic, and the fact that you’re gazing at him with wide, innocent eyes puts a stark contrast to what you’re doing. he continues to watch you as he pulls his boxers and pants back up.

‘i hope you liked it,’ you wiggle closer to him, and press a kiss to his cheek.

‘course i did,’ he wraps an arm around your waist, and draws you flush against him.

your lashes flutter in such proximity to him, and he swears he can hear the pitter patter of your heart. he wants to thank you too, make you come and make sweet noises for him. he presses his lips against your jaw, and trails kisses across it, watching as you arch your neck for him.

‘snow…’ you push him away, heat flooding to your cheeks.

he furrows his brow, a look of slight distress crossing his features. has he pushed too far? you’re embarrassed with the way he’s touching you, anxious that he feels obliged to be all sweet and handsy now because you gave him a handjob. not that you’d mind him manhandling you, but you want it to be genuine.

‘hey, princess, i’m sorry if—’ you cut him off, shaking your head, a small smile creeps upon your lips.

‘no, you didn’t do anything,’ you sigh. ‘it’s just, i want you to know that i really like you. and i don’t want you to feel like you have to be nice to me just because i have you a handjob.’

you fidget restlessly with your hands, thumbs twiddling as you search his face for a reaction, a response. he’s never gotten angry at you before, but part of you fears that you’ve pushed him over the edge, perhaps that your words have been an insult to his pride.

‘how could i not be sweet to you? you’re my girl, yeah?’ he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple.

you lean against his form, head nestling against his neck. he’s still so cold, but part of you finds that comforting, his cool fingers pressing against the warm skin of your upper arm, trailing down your back…

‘i wanna be your girl, for real,’ you admit bashfully. you gaze up at him, sweet eyes brimming with earnestness. his heart breaks at how innocent you are. ‘you know i only started smoking so i had an excuse to see you.’

he laughs, casting a knowing look at you. he thumbs the smooth skin of your cheek, which is rosy with the slight embarrassment of your confession. he wants to make you his, but there’s so much risk, for you, of course. you’re too sweet, a saccharine smile, god, you’ve not even tried anything else like coke or ecstasy. you could get in a lot of trouble, being his girl. part of him regrets calling you that, but how can he resist temptation when aphrodite is presenting herself to him right before his eyes?

‘i knew you weren’t really a stoner, princess,’ he flashes his pearly whites. ‘too sweet to be smoking that much anyways. ‘n besides, if i thought you were gonna be smoking it i wouldn’t have sold it to you.’

your chest heaves a sigh, and you give an embarrassed show of sheepishness, lips pursing together as you attempt to smear what’s left of the gloss around.

‘but hey,’ he casts an earnest look, blue eyes brimming with sweetness that’s so uncharacteristic for him—not when he’s with you, of course. ‘i’m trouble, princess. don’t want it to end up with you getting hurt.’

‘snow, i’m a big girl, i can handle it,’ you state, though your voice trembles like that of a small child.

you are afraid, truth be told, but the want you feel for him outweighs everything. you don’t care if he has a gun or about the fact that he makes his money selling weed, coke, e. you want him, you want to wrap your pretty lips around his cock, to please him in any way imaginable. your heart flutters everytime he touches you, or calls you princess.

the way he gazes at you reminds you of just how wet you are, panties wet with your desire, and you find your hand snaking between your legs when you think he’s not looking. you rub your clit gently, lips quivering around a soft moan, but snow is onto you.

‘you all wet for me, huh?’ he asks, one brow cocked. his voice is laced with desire, throat feeling a little thick as he attempts to be suave. for some reason, you’re making him, a tough, calloused guy, nervous. he’s got butterflies in his stomach.

‘uh huh,’ you mewl, spreading your legs as you lean back against the couch.

fuck, he could just eat you up. a sweet treat, wrapped up in a pretty bow, just for him. he groans, watching as a finger slips past your panties and into your tight hole. he watches as your finger, which is delicate and slim, struggles to penetrate your cunt. god, he could imagine how much you’d whine as he stretched you out with his big cock.

‘come on, princess, let me do that for you,’ he pleads, placing one hand on your thigh while the other wedges between them.

he moves your hand away, and loops his fingers round the waistband of your panties, tugging them down until your cunt is before him. he catches his breath when he looks at you, the way your folds are glistening, just for him.

he teases one finger through the folds, groaning as he feels your slickness coat his fingers. it’s unbelievable how wet you are, and he’s barely touched you. you let out a low whine, bucking your hips towards his fingers. you’re aching for touch, for him to slip himself inside of you.

‘please, don’t tease me,’ you pout, and snow offers a gentle laugh.

taking your word, though, he slides one finger inside, sighing as your tight walls stretch around him. he wonders just how tight you’ll feel if he buried his cock inside of you, going deeper, and deeper, seeing how much you could take. you gasp, but urge him to put another in, your lips trembling with wanton desire.

‘so fuckin’ tight, princess,’ he shakes his head in disbelief.

he slips a second finger in, and a whimper escapes your mouth, hand stretching out to clutch at his arm. seeing you squirming from his touch, still desperate for more, to ease the ache in your lower belly, he brushes his thumb against your clit.

‘mhm, god,’ you moan, head rolling back against the arm of the couch.

‘you like that, yeah?’ he goads, rubbing your sensitive nub in circles, watching your toes curl up in satisfaction.

you give a lazy nod, bucking your hips against his hand, arching your back as his fingers curl up inside your cunt. the sweet squelching sound of your slick against his fingers can be heard along with the pretty tones of your moaning and grunting. he feels himself harden again, mind dancing with visions of bending you over and watching his cock drive in and out of your tight cunt.

‘feels so good,’ you mewl, feeling your cunt throb with each stroke of his thumb.

‘can’t wait to fill you up, princess,’ he groans, the sound of your pleasure egging him to be forward.

the way his smooth voice caresses your ear makes the pit of your stomach fill with warmth, and plead with him to push his fingers deeper. you’re so close, you can feel yourself coming undone against his fingers, chasing your release.

‘want you to—’ you’re cut off by your own gasp, and your slickness coating snow’s fingers.

‘fuck, coming all for me,’ he grunts, rubbing at your clit as you continue to finish around him, whining a little from overstimulation.

when he slides his fingers out of your cunt, they're glistening. he sucks at your juices, eyes fluttering shut as he licks the sweetness off his fingers. you're completely fucked-out before him, body splayed out, legs spread. he wanted nothing more than to take you right then and there, but he had to practise patience, after all, watching you unfurl around his fingers was beautiful—like an ancient, lost art form.

'thank you, snow,' you very innocently press a kiss to his cheek, and when you pull away he thinks he catches the glistening of tears in your eyes.

he draws you back in against him, lips pressing desperately against yours. he hungers for you, tongue slipping into your mouth, the sweetness of your juices on his tongue mixing with your own saliva. you grasp at his back as your lips press hotly against his own, your tongues meeting every so often. you can feel his boner pressing into you, but you want to save that for next time; make sure it's memorable.

when you two pull apart, both your cheeks are flushed, and you are greeted with that uncharacteristic kindness in his eyes that he only has for you. his eagerness, and also his earnestness, suggests to you that perhaps this isn't going to be a one-time thing.

after all, now you don't need some exaggerated weed-dependency as an excuse to see him.

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strwberri-milk · 3 months

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a/n: cue me listening to the same secret time over and over to put me in the right mindframe for this bc I don’t have either of the cards for the AB set for this goddamn FISH – im still learning about him/specifically abysswalker raf as well bc I know nothing outside this audio so there are indeed going to be some growing pains uwu im still learning his voice but im in love w him <3

Wrapped in Moonlight

AO3 || Rafayel x Fem!Reader || Soft Smut, Mild Angst || 3, 503 Words

additional tags: accidental mask kink, fingering, vaginal sex, first time having sex [w/ e/o], first kiss [w/ e/o], rafayels acc so in love with you, i like the moon and havent ever had to write a lot of water motifs before

The dull thrumming of his heartbeat in his ears has never been louder, not until this moment here, with you.

Your eyes look up at him from where you lay on your bed, teeth lightly worrying over your lips as you take a deep breath, shaking your head as though to shake away the words that had his feet planted firmly on the ground. You’d taken to summoning him more often as of late and even if he could, he would never reject your requests. Rafayel knew that it was dangerous but he couldn’t think to care, beginning to crave being by your side in ways that drove him mad.

“I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you. Please, just forget I even said anything,” you begin to plead, averting his gaze and retreating further into your lush sheets. Sheets he knows the feeling of, the barely there warmth that his fingertips longed to feel, his resolve cracking every time you sleepily ask him to stay until you fall asleep.

“Your Highness doesn’t think I’d really be able to forget such a request, does she?” he decides to say instead, wanting to lean into a slightly more playful side of his persona to cope with the swell of emotions crashing down into his chest.

You stay silent and he decides to take this opportunity to step closer. His gloved hand parts the beaded curtain, your breath catching in your chest as you see the way the candle’s light faintly illuminating his face. Rafayel’s eyes are intense, something you’ve always noticed when he looks at you. All thoughts begin to cease as soon as his eyes meet yours, leaning in closer to you.

“Did you really think that I’d forget that you asked me to kiss you?”

The words hang heavy between the two of you, an unnamed but not unnoticed tension sitting on your shoulders once again. It felt like the two of you were constantly doing some song and dance, skirting around the way you both felt about each other. He looks like he’s got something more to say, watching you intently before stepping away. The clicking of the curtains gives you something else to focus on as you try to still your erratic heartbeat, hearing him draw the curtains to your room open at the same time as him blowing out the candles.

He stands in your window for a moment, the moon’s light wrapping around him so intimately you can’t help but be jealous. You shift in your bed, unconsciously crawling towards him. The sound makes him turn to look at you, hues coloured with something you can’t quite understand. You think you’ll drown in the depths of them but you can’t be bothered to care. If it meant being able to touch him, even for just a moment then you’d be more than willing to suffer that consequence.

“Rafayel, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I just didn’t think before I spoke.”

And you couldn’t, not when he looked at you like he wanted to devour you or whenever he’d touch you gently to reassure you of his presence.

Silence and tension continue to colour the air between the two of you and you have a fleeting thought that this might be the last time you ever see him. You couldn’t ever summon him again, not after leaving things like this. Rafayel can feel your eyes flitting over his figure, imagines that you’re committing his features to memory.

“It’s quite the opposite,” he admits after some time, long strides closing the distance between the two of you in no time.

You find yourself being pushed back against the bed. Slowly, Rafayel pushes you to lay on your pillow, staring up at him in the moon’s light. He looks ethereal like this and you can’t imagine how you’re still capable of any sort of thinking right now.

A slight chuckle leaves his lips at the sight of your eyes widening. His hand goes to cup your face, leaning in so close your noses would be touching were it not for that infuriating piece of leather that keeps your breaths from intermingling. You have half a mind to ask him again, this time in the form of a wish to see if he’ll accept but you feel your mind go blank as you feel him press his face against your neck.

“What are you-”

Your words devolve to gasps, hands going to cling onto his shoulders as you feel him periodically press a little harder against your skin. If you close your eyes and really focus you think you can feel his lips pressing against the leather, kissing you through his mask. His breath rings in your ear, you trying to keep your gasps quiet to avoid drawing attention to your chambers.

“Fulfilling Your Highness’ wish. Is that not what you wanted?”

You know that even this much is more than you could ever ask for, Rafayel always watching you cautiously whenever your hands would near his mask. You understand that he has his reasons for privacy and you would never ask him why but now, you’re just desperate to feel his lips on your skin, desperate to know if it’s as good as you’ve fantasized about. The only solace you get is the warmth of his body seeping through his clothes, teasing the tips of your fingers as you try not to act desperate for more of his touch.

“I can feel you holding back. Don’t tell me Your Highness is getting greedy?” he laughs breathily, the slight pant in his voice unnoticed by you with how divine it feels to be under him.

“I don’t want you to hate me,” you manage to mumble, biting back a slight moan when you feel his arm creep under your back and push you closer to his face.

“Hate you?”

The words leave his throat almost bloody. Just the sheer thought of hating you made his stomach churn, murky waters of his affection for you maddened that you could ever think such a thing. His hands tighten their grip on your body to a way that’s almost painful, looking up at you with a look that has so much want in it that it steals the breath out of your lungs.

“I could never hate you.”

His hair tickles your throat as you feel him settle against your neck, nuzzling into you and resting his hand on your waist. You try to turn to face him but the weight of his body stops you, Rafayel giving you a sound of disagreement.

“I told you already. It’s quite the opposite.”

You try to ask him to clarify, about to open your mouth when you he quickly gets up. He looks at you quickly before going to look around your room, shaking his head good naturedly at the slight furrow of your brows and parted lips. You watch him rummage through your things, getting even more confused when he returns with a strip of ribbon between his fingers.

He crawls over your body again, tilting your chin with his knuckles. You think you’re imagining it in the low light but the apples of his cheeks seem tinted red. Curious, you bring your hand up to the side of his face. You’re glad that he doesn’t seem to be flinching away from your touch. A smile graces your lips when you feel how warm his face is, Rafayel now pulling away from you slightly.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, a slight pout in his voice.

“You’re warm,” you laugh, bringing your hand closer to his face.

Your fingers brush against his ear, sure with how warm they are that he’s bright red. Your fingers trail down the curves, nail tracing the shape of his jaw down to his collar. He doesn’t shy away. Instead, his hand goes to grab your wrist, the ribbon tickling your skin as he leans in closer.

“This is your fault. You know that, right?” he scolds lightly.

“If it weren’t for you my heart wouldn’t feel like a hurricane over the ocean. Do you feel that?”

He brings your wrist over to rest on his chest, your palm resting over his heart. True to his word you can feel his heart pounding under your fingers. He presses his chest against you, brows furrowing as your fingers press against him.

“You should be more understanding, Your Highness. You can’t just do these things to people and leave them washed up on the beach during low tide. It’s cruel.”

The way he pitches his voice in your ear makes you swoon and you’re glad you’re already laying down. Your knees feel weak and you barely register his thumbs tracing a smooth line across your cheek. You’re both so close to each other that you’re suffocating in his presence.

“Are you willing to face the consequences?” he whispers into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

Weakly, you nod. With this, he brings both his hands to your face and suddenly you have your vision obscured by the ribbon he pulled out earlier. You bring your hands up to reach for it, immediately stopped by his strong grip.

“You said you’d be willing to accept it. You trust me, don’t you?”

His voice is raspy, laced with something more than just the question he’s asked you. There’s a weight to his words, something dragging down the vowels and accentuating the bite of his consonants. Your breath is caught in your throat as you wait for him to finish tying the ribbon behind your head, whimpering softly when he brings his thumb to press against your bottom lip.

Forced to wait, you try to imagine what he might do now. Your mind runs wild, barely listening to the sounds around you when you feel his weight on your body again. You reach out for him but gasp when you feel his lips press against your bare skin. The sound is indecent and you’re embarrassed you were even capable of making it but when you try to hide it you feel him bite you, squeaking in response.

“Don’t hide from me. I want to hear your voice. Don’t you think I deserve a bit of a reward for this?”

He continues to litter your skin in featherlight kisses, and you realise that his clothes don’t seem as thick as they usually are. You can feel his skin through the thinner layers, about to say something when his lips press against yours. It’s soft, barely there but the contact is enough to make your mind spin. You get the sense that he’s testing your boundaries and before he can pull away you wind your fingers through his hair, kissing him more insistently this time.

“I hope you don’t mind the blindfold, but I think it’s more exciting this way, don’t you think? This way, you’re forced to guess what I’m going to do next to you,” he breathes against you when he finally pulls back.

“You just like teasing me,” you mutter, scared to admit just how much you liked this and wanted him to keep going.

“I’m just trying to get revenge on you. You’ve been teasing me too! Don’t act like you’re innocent in all of this.”

He starts to trail kisses down your neck again, sucking gently against your collar. As much as he would like to, he can’t leave any marks on your skin. Something even semi-permanent like that seems far too cruel for someone like him to leave on someone like you. He reveres you and you can feel it in the way he kisses you, showering your body in an affection he’s never felt for anybody else.

“Rafayel – please –” you whimper, his name coming off your tongue his own siren song.

“Please what? I won’t know what you want if you don’t tell me,” he hums, hand going to play with the fabric beginning to bunch under your waist.

He slots himself between your legs and your knees rest against his hips. You wish you could see him, look at the expression on his face. You wish you could watch him press kisses to your skin, watch his fingers tighten against you the way they are now, the way his nails scratch lightly against your skin between the slits of your nightgown.

“More, please,” he hears you ask weakly. “I need more of you. Rafayel? Please?”

He thinks he should tease you more but considering your current state and his own desperation he decides not to. Instead, he pushes up the fabric on your legs slowly, trying to see if you’ll stop him. When you don’t and instead try to egg him on by making it easier for him, he lets his hands rest on your thighs now laid bare for his hungry gaze.

“Are you sure? This is really something you want?”

The question is desperate, Rafayel not knowing if he wants you to stop him or not. His body longs to be pressed against yours, to make you say his name that prettily over and over again. He thinks he’ll die if he can’t have it, kissing lower and lower over the fabric on your chest to convince you to say yes.

He doesn’t know that he doesn’t have to fight that hard for you.

You clasp your fingers with his, bringing them to rest on the inside of your thighs. He’s glad he can’t see the look in your eyes, knowing that if he did it’d make all of his resolve crack if this is how bold you’re already being without being able to see the effect you have on him.

Tentatively, he brings his fingers closer to the heat burning between your legs. It doesn’t take him long to feel the damp spot between your legs and recognise that it’s getting damper with each kiss he gives you. You start to whine as his fingers tease your slit through your underwear, your body feeling things you didn’t know you could feel just with his touch.

“I didn’t know you were capable of such dirty things Your Highness.”

Despite his teasing words, you can tell he wants it just as much when he slips his fingers between the fabric and your body, fingers haphazardly exploring your body as he kisses your lips again. He swallows each moan you give him desperately, relishing in the whimper you give him when his fingertips start circling your clit.

“You’re the one doing this to me,” you whine, hips bucking against his palm as his fingers slip inside.

“You’re the one who started this. I’ll stop whenever you tell me to,” he mumbles against your neck.

Your moans are louder now and as much as he’d love to have everyone hear how good he makes you feel he also would hate it if your maid came in and saw what was happening. He covers your mouth with his free hand, ignoring the way it feels to have your gasps pressed up against his palm. He wants to ruin you, make you cry and scream from pleasure and have you be his for the rest of time but here, in the quiet of your bedroom he’ll settle for just this for now.

His hand stays focused, letting you moan and gasp into his palm as he fingers you. You feel his palm rest against your body, thumb replacing his finger as he the heel to rest against your core. He can make out gasps of his name when he hits a certain part inside of you and decides it’s too cruel to keep your mouth covered like this. You immediately moan his name, quieter this time to avoid being heard by your staff.

You clench around his fingers, the hand not bracing against his chest going to grab his wrist. Rafayel gives you a breathy laugh and you bury your face against his neck, continuing to moan and plead for him quietly.

“Please – Rafayel – I –“

Your own words are cut off quickly by your impending orgasm, biting into his shoulder to try and hold back your noises as your hips arch into him. The bite of your clothes against your skin as you writhe does nothing to impede the feeling of his hand on your cunt, Rafayel’s voice gently talking you through your orgasm. Stars litter the space of your eyelids, Rafayel’s arm coming to hold you against him.

When you finally come down you find yourself placed carefully in Rafayel’s lap. He’s taken off his shirt and unbuttoned his pants, gently tracing shapes on the skin of your lower back. Your blindfold is still on but you don’t doubt that the hard planes of your bed is Rafayel and when you hear his voice come from just above you you know you’re right.

“You’re awful to me, did you know that?” he muses, groaning slightly when you reposition yourself slightly and brush up against his cock.

“Stop that! I can’t believe you right now.”

“I’m just trying to get comfortable! This is just as much your fault as it is mine,” you say hazily.

You sit up on your knees, carefully putting your arms around his shoulders. You reach behind yourself to touch him, shuddering at the gasp he gives you against your arm. You feel his tip prodding gently against your opening, sinking down slightly. When you hear him gasp again you know you have him where you want him.

“You really want this?” you ask him huskily, mirroring his words from before.

Your hand rests on his cheek and you can feel him nod, continuing your slow descent onto his lap. It takes you a second to adjust to his size, hugging his neck tighter as you moan. His hands come to rest on your hips and he shifts slightly to create a better angle for himself. This makes him sink into you just the slightest bit deeper, you whimpering pathetically as he starts a slow, languid pace thrusting into you.

“Rafayel!” you gasp, hands bunching in his hair as you let him dictate the pace.

“Shh, shh. It’s alright, Your Highness. I’m here for you. Don’t worry – I’ll make you feel good. You know I will,” he mutters into your ear, continuing his gentle grind into you.

For the umpteenth time you wish that you could see him. For now, you have to sate yourself with his pretty moans and gasps, the way he feels inside of you and the affectionate kisses he peppers across your skin. Thanks to his pace you feel yourself coming to a slow build of your orgasm, his soft words of praise and coaxes going straight to your cunt. He groans every time you clench around him, the feeling of your pussy finally being wrapped around him making it hard for his mind to stop swimming.

He angles his hips to find that spot inside of you that makes you see stars, bringing a hand down to your clit despite how much he loves holding you because he knows he’ll love the feeling of you cumming around him more. When you give him a sharp gasp he knows he’s found it, thrusting more insistently. You grind against his pelvis, not wanting it to be over too quickly but still desperate for your release.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Rafayel asks, pulling you out of the depths of your stupor just barely.

“I can feel it. You’re getting so tight around me – if you squeeze me like this then I’ll cum too. It’s okay, just let go. I told you I’d make you feel good, didn’t I? You’ve already done so well. Just a little bit more, okay?” he coaxes, the sound of his voice tipping you over the edge.

You cum with a broken cry of his name, holding onto his shoulders tightly. It takes him just a couple more strokes inside of you to cum himself, unable to think of anything but filling you up and claiming you as his in this small way. The two of you sit together, coming down from your shared high. You whine a little about still wearing the blindfold but that’s quickly quieted by him kissing you again, telling you that it’s part of the condition for him kissing you.

Your breathing slows together and after a minute he feels you becoming dead weight. He laughs to himself when he realises that you’ve fallen asleep on him, carefully moving you aside to lay you back down on your bed. After cleaning the two of you up and tucking you into bed he gives you one final kiss to your forehead. You make a small noise of complaint, Rafayel kneeling at the side of your bed to take one last look at you for the night. His hand rests on your cheek softly, pretending that this didn’t drastically change everything.

“I love you. Sleep well, my Princess,” he whispers, the far away sound of waves lapping on a shore the only witness to his words.

#love and deepspace #rafayel #rafayel x reader #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace x reader #rafayel smut

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spirit-lanterns · 4 months

Text

THIRST COMMENTS 2

synopsis: (celebrity AU) your girlfriend get's jealous when she reads your thirst comments. (part 2/2) part 1 here.

featuring: kafka, himeko, serval, yukong, topaz

rating: 18+ smut (men and minors dni)

warnings: sub! afab fem reader, jealous s.ex, cunnlingus (reader giving and receiving), pet names, slight degradation (use of whore in kafka's), rough s.ex, semi-public s.ex (himeko), possessiveness, lap s.ex, fin.gering, handcuffs, use of vib.rators, mating press, strap ons, doggy style, might be ooc, not proofread.

art credits: bad thinking diary

KAFKA

“You liked all that attention, huh? You liked it when all your fans were thirsting over you on the web?”

Kafka scoffs and bites her lip, keeping a firm hand on your scalp as she pushes you further into her skirt. The exasperated gasp that spilled past your lips pleased your girlfriend greatly while she listened to you with a grin, as Kafka couldn’t help but satiate her jealousy by making you remember just who exactly your lover was.

“Ooh, a new comment. Let’s see what it reads, shall we?” She drums her fingers against the top of your head and groans when she feels your tongue lap eagerly over her clit. You two had just gotten off the filming of the “thirst comments” video that would be uploaded to some popular celebrity news channel, but Kafka found herself growing envious over just how many of your fans lusted for you all over the internet.

The moment you two stepped into Kafka’s private limousine, she had you pushed down on your knees in front of her, one hand guiding you to peel her panties off from her skirt with your teeth, and the other hand reaching for her phone so she could read some of the other comments thirsting about you from Twitter.

“Anonymous said: I think (Reader)’s moans would be the cutest thing to listen to. I’m practically wet just thinking about it.”

Kafka chuckles when she finishes reading that thirst comment out loud, gripping your scalp a bit harder and causing you to moan.

“My, my…the commenter was right. Your moans are the cutest thing to ever listen to. In fact, I think I feel myself getting a bit wet, don’t you feel it?” She grits her teeth and yanks your hair up a little to see the glistening sheen of her pussy juices smeared around your face. The sight makes Kafka groan with pleasure, a wave of possession filling her chest as she pushes you back down to continue eating her out. “Mmpf…such a good girl…she knows exactly who she belongs to.”

Kafka scrolls a bit further through her Twitter feed, eyes landing on another comment that sends another pang of jealousy through her heart.

“Anonymous said: I’d drink up (Reader) till there’s nothing leaking out.”

Kafka grits her teeth at that and subconsciously pushes your head a bit deeper into her cunt. She revels in the way you writhe and squeak, gripping her thighs in your hands as you lap up her cum so eagerly. “Really? They want to drink you up till there’s nothing left? Hah…if only they knew that you were the one who is lapping up my juices so thirstily. You needy girl…”

She smirks and cups your face to pull you up and meet her lips in a sloppy kiss. You’ve never seen Kafka so…possessive in all your time of dating her, yet you’d be lying if you said you weren’t getting turned on at the thought of it. Normally she’s much more in control of her emotions, yet ever since you finished the filming of the thirst comments video, Kafka had been a little out of it till you got to the car.

“One more…let’s read another thirst comment about you, hmm? See what all your fans have to say about a cute whore like you.” Kafka chuckles and her eyes practically glow at this one particular comment. One hand reaching down to grope your ass possessively, while the other clicks on the comment to see it enlarged.

“Anonymous said: (Reader) is just so cute and innocent. I want to make her cum on my fingers until her voice goes hoarse and she’s crying for more.”

Kafka tsks at this and pulls you closer onto your lap, causing you to yelp. “Cute and innocent…” she repeats in a low, husky voice. “Well that’s far from what I see right in front of me.”

She chuckles darkly and snakes her fingers down to your pants, teasing you through the cloth before whispering into your ear. “I bet I can make you cry far, far better than that fan of yours…wouldn’t you agree?”

“Y…Yes…Kafka.” You murmur quietly, breath hitching when she kisses your neck.

“Good girl. I’ll make you cum better than any idolizer in the world. You are mine to devour…”

HIMEKO

“Hmm…I really didn’t expect your fans to be so bold, my love.”

Behind the set of the video “thirst comments” Himeko was currently pinning you up against the wall with her thigh slotted in between your legs. Though filming took place not too long ago, it seems as if Himeko has gotten just a tad bit jealous when she heard you reading off all your thirst comments for your portion of the video.

So now, here you were with your passively jealous girlfriend clinging to you while the staff and crew of the set chatted idly not too far away. Though they couldn’t see where Himeko had you pinned up, if you made any loud noises, they’d be immediately alerted to your proximity.

“Let’s read one of your beloved thirst comments, shall we? Just to remind you of what you remember.”

Himeko purrs and hands you her phone, allowing you to open up her Twitter and see the mass amounts of thirst comments clogging up her feed. “Go on, read one…” Himeko murmurs, pushing you back against the wall as she begins sensually rubbing up your thigh.

“Ah…mmpf…@/servalisms said: not even a guillotine could take away the head I’m about to give (Reader)…”

Though very creative and honestly quite flattering, you gulped and looked up to see your girlfriend staring down at you, with eyes that seemed clouded by something you could not decipher. “H…Himeko?” You murmured in a softer tone.

“Pffh! Quite creative your fans are, hm?” She gave you a teasing smirk, before suddenly dropping down on her knees in front of you.

“Ah! H-Himeko—”

“Just keep reading, darling. Keep reading those little thirst comments of yours and I’ll show you just how good my head game is for you sweet little pussy.” She suddenly pulled your pants down to part your thighs with her hands, nudging your panties with her nose and evoking a series of stifled little whimpers. “Come on…don’t be shy…”

She chuckles and continues prodding you for more access to your pussy. Leaving you no other choice but to continue reading as per request from your girlfriend.

“Anonymous said: the way I’d fuck (Reader) in every position is wi— AH!”

You didn’t even get to finish reading the thirst comment before Himeko suddenly plunged her tongue in to lap at your folds behind the thin, scantily fabric of your already dampening underwear. It was getting increasingly harder to focus on the pixelated words as Himeko just kept pushing against you with more force. Breaths hitching at the way she began losing control in your body…

“Every position? If only they knew your favorite position to be is under me,” Himeko chuckles, hiding the envy behind her golden eyes before planting a sweet kiss to your inner thigh. The sight of her rosy red lipstick left a faint imprint on the surface of your skin, and it left you feeling breathless with the way your normally composed girlfriend was beginning to show her true colors.

“Keep reading,” Himeko all but purrs, voice almost a throaty growl when she pulls your underwear down. “If you can’t even read the words on the screen, I’d say it’s a job well done for me.”

You gulped and shakily looked down to read another Twitter comment. Eyes blurring between the lines, but managing to focus on one singular post.

“@/sinsmockingbird said: (Reader) is so cute and beautiful. I just want to bend them over the table and completely ruin them till they’re a crying mess.”

It was difficult to read every word properly —given by how hard your thighs were shaking— but when you looked down, you saw Himeko biting her lip and staring rather intently at your cunt. It was kinda embarrassing to witness, but confused as to why she suddenly stopped her teasing, you gently tapped on the side of her cheek.

“Himeko…? Did I say something wrong?” Your thighs immediately buckled when Himeko dove her tongue in to press firmly against your hole, reveling in the way it twitched and puckered while your wobbly little legs tried so desperately to keep you upright. A small whine left your throat at the feeling of your girlfriend starting to go to town on you, eating you out with her hands gripped firmly on your thighs, while the tip of her tongue split you open with groans riveting from Himeko’s voice.

“God…you truly have no idea do you,” the usually calm woman exhales, diving back in to taste your juices while you buck your hips rather pathetically into her face. “If only your fans knew I was the one bending you over each night. The one making you cry until your tears have clouded you blind.”

As if to prove her point, Himeko suddenly nibbles against your clit and forces a small cry from your lips.

“So delightful, your noises are.” Himeko chuckles, staring up at you with a lustful gaze that kept you pinned under the redhead’s touch.

“I hope you always remember just how good your girlfriend pleases you.”

SERVAL

“Aghhhh, I knew your fans were down bad for you, but I had no idea they were this down bad.”

Serval chuckles rather hastily, but the envy was green in her eyes that once shown bright blue. Your girlfriend had tried to contain her jealousy after the recent filming of your “thirst comments” video, yet when your portion of the video came up —aka it was your turn to read thirst comments from fans— Serval was making it very obvious that she was jealous from the get go.

Well, it’s not like your girlfriend was that good of an actress in the first place. She was a singer, not an actor, and it resulted in some of her emotions spilling over after the filming, because suddenly you were locked up in Serval’s dressing room, on her lap, and on her couch while she lazily fingers you.

“Ah…shit, you’re so tight baby…” Serval groans, keeping an eye on her dressing room door while your soft, quiet whimpers play in her ear. Your phone sat idly in your hand as you could barely focus on the text on screen, your girlfriend pummeling her fingers inside you and distracting you from the task at hand.

“A…Anonymous said: I would let (Reader) peg me, no fucks given—”

You clamped your free hand over your mouth to stifle a loud moan as you felt the tips of Serval’s long fingers hitting that spongy spot inside you. Though pleasurable, this felt like torture to you while Serval laughed aimlessly and twisted her fingers around to see you writhe. “Peg me? As if this sweet thing could ever peg anyone in her life.” Serval chuckles and thrusts her fingers a bit faster, the middle and ring fingers of her right hand pumping so steadily into your cunt. “Come on, let’s read the next comment. Don’t tell me you’re at your limit yet.”

Serval kisses the navel of your neck and smirks up at you with that cocky expression she always had. Driven forward by her sloppy thrusts, you groaned and narrowed your eyes to focus on the screen in your hand, before latching onto Serval so you wouldn’t accidentally tip over.

“@/the-voxinton-tavern said: (Reader) played her role in her newest horror movie so well! I’d just want to see her legs shaking in a different context.”

Serval scoffs at this before giving your outer right thigh a soft slap to the skin, causing you to yelp and nearly jump out of your girlfriend’s lap. “I’ll have your legs shaking so much you’d be clinging to me to carry you out of this room.” Serval husks, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Aha…well at the pace we’re going at, you’ll be achieving your goal v-very soon…” you mumble, an attempt at making a light joke falling on deaf ears.

“I know. No one knows your body more than I do.” Serval whispers, pushing your body up higher as she forces a third finger in to fill you up even more. At the sudden stretch of your girlfriend’s three fingers all attempting to fit inside you, you buckled your hips forward and gasped, clutching onto the singer’s sweaty shoulders. “S-Serval! Not too quickly—”

“It’s okay, it’ll fit. You’ve taken so many bigger things up you before.” Serval grins, nudging your cheek with her nose. “Alright, let’s read the last thirst comment. Read it all the way through and maybe I’ll let you cum.”

“Maybe?!” You groaned and glared at your girlfriend with a somewhat pouty expression.

“Maybe.” Serval grinned, teasingly kissing your nose and urging you to read the next comment.

“Anonymous said: if (Reader) ever needs a chair, my face is readily available 🤭”

Serval actually laughs at this and suddenly slides her fingers out of your cunt, hoisting you up in those strangely strong arms of hers, and placing you down on the couch to crawl over you in a pinning position.

“If (Reader) ever needs a chair?” Serval tilts her head, a devious smirk on the blonde woman’s face. “Why would you ever need to sit on something other than my lap, babygirl?”

You whine when she suddenly thrusts her fingers back in and causes a cacophony of moans to slip past your lips. Suddenly Serval is faster, harder, and her fingers are starting to plunge further up into your folds, causing you to arch your back and nearly scream.

“You’re so fucking hot…” Serval curses, pulling you closer before bringing you closer and closer to your impending orgasm. “I’m so glad that you’re mine.”

And as if to prove her point, she thrusts her hand till the palm slaps wonderfully against your clit, causing a small squirt of cum to drip past and coat her already slick fingers. “That’s my good fucking girl…” Serval groans, pulling her fingers out to clean them with her tongue. “My good fucking girl…”

YUKONG

“This generation is rather prude with their flirts, hm? That’s no way to pick up a lady…”

Yukong tsks her tongue at the particular thirst comment she sees regarding you and your body. Though thirst comments are almost always a joke within the celebrity community and space, Yukong being of the older generation, was not pleased at the slightest to see how her girlfriend was ogled at and thirsted over on the internet.

Especially to this degree.

“@/lindseynguyen said: (Reader) can step on me with her heels and I’ll thank her for it.”

Yukong narrows her eyes at the thirst before sighing and looking down at you. “Honestly, how masochistic can your fans be, dear? I’m starting to believe you could punch them and they’d get turned on, don’t you agree?”

You’d respond, of course, if not for the fact that you were currently handcuffed to the hotel bed with one of Yukong’s personal vibrators stuffed up your hole. Ever since you two had left the set of the thirst comments video to head back to your hotel room, Yukong had you handcuffed to the post of the bed, sliding her hidden vibrator out of her suitcase so that she could shove it up your cunt for “discipline.” Apparently, for as old and wide as Yukong could be, she was still capable of getting jealous, evident with her rough treatment of you the moment you stepped foot in your suite.

“Darling? Oh, that’s right. You can’t even speak, just moan like the needy girl you are, so desperate for my command.” Yukong strokes a gentle hand across your face, wiping the overstimulated tears from your eyes and giving you a kiss. “Don’t worry, I’ll finish soon enough, then you can get the glorious orgasm you so desperately crave.”

Yukong grins and glances back down at her phone.

“@/chamomillecamille said: (Reader) would NOT be able to hide if we were in a hotel together. The way I’d be screaming her name.”

Yukong raises a brow at this, before chuckling and turning up the vibrations of the toy. “Oh, how ironic isn’t that, my love?” She traces a small drip of precum sliding from your inner thigh, before scooping it up with her finger and licking it. “The fact that I have you tied up and fucked in a hotel room at the moment…I bet Camille would be seething that she can’t savor this.”

As the vibrations of the toy are turned up, the buzz pulsing through your sensitive walls increases and causes you to close your thighs out of pure pleasure. A whine leaks past your throat, alerting Yukong to your now closed position and causing her to tsk at the sight.

“My darling, I thought we went over this. Legs stay open during your punishment.”

Yukong moved your thighs back into their spread position on the bed, eying the way the pastel blue vibrator was now covered in your slick and lube. You caught the older woman drooling a bit, saliva pooling behind her canines before she swallows and moves closer to adjust the shaking toy.

“So wet…it’s almost slipping right out…” she pushes the toy back deeper into its original position, smiling at the way you could barely keep it together. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. Last one, I promise. No more teasing.”

She playfully flicks the clit of your swollen, sensitive cunt before diving her eyes back to the faded screen.

“Anonymous said: I want (Reader) to break my back like a glowstick.”

The older woman chuckles quite amusedly at this, picturing the thought before sliding the dripping wet vibrator out with a pop. “Breaking backs like a glowstick? Wouldn’t that hurt, though?” Yukong tilts her head and smirks at the way you whine with how she tore away your orgasm from you. “If anything, I think your back would be the one broken, my dear.”

She hoists you up by the waist and props your legs up over her lap to get a better view of your sensitive, glistening folds. Using her two thumbs, she spreads them open apart and can’t help but let out a throaty grunt.

“All mine…to think this sweet woman is all mine…”

Pushing your legs forward suddenly, you nearly cry when she pushes your legs down in a position you find yourself in countless times before. A mating press.

“Here, let me show you just how good I could break you.” Yukong purrs, the soft, older woman figure now gone and replaced with someone much more dominant. “I hope all these guests hear just how loud you are when I’m done with you.”

TOPAZ

“Heh, to think I had so much competition vying for your love, babe.”

Topaz raises a brow while reading a particular thirst comment about you on her phone. Normally she’d be more focused on you at the moment —given by how she was currently fucking 7 inches of her strap on into your cunt, doggy style— yet it seemed as if your girlfriend was focused on more…trivial affairs, as she was more upset over the fact that fans were getting pretty possessive over you, rather than the fact that you were buck naked and grinding on her.

“Anonymous said: TELL TOPAZ TO BACK AWAY. (Reader) is mine and mine only.”

Your girlfriend narrowed her eyes at this and gave a particularly hard thrust with her hips. “Pfft, wow, jealous much?” Topaz traced the palms of her hands over your ass and gave the soft, rear ends a harsh squeeze. “I mean, we aren’t even officially dating when it comes to the public, is our relationship that obvious on screen?”

You attempted to answer, but with the way Topaz was grinding the thick shaft against your insides, pulling any word or sound out of you to turn into a moan, had you practically speechless as you were left face planting into your pillow.

“I mean, we do flirt and touch each other sometimes on camera, but I mean come on…” she continued her shallow thrusts and pressed firm nail indents into your sides. “Just listen to this one baby, just listen to it.”

“@/lenzxii said: The way I would let (Reader) literally fuck me until my only coherent thought is her, step on me, beat the dog shit out of me, abuse me, run me over with her car, carve her name in my thigh, let her use any hole she wanted, cheat on me, rob me, steal my shit, kidnap me and I’ll still say thank you for blessing me with your presence.”

Somehow Topaz said all of that under one breath, eyes practically popping out of their sockets as she had to take a quick moment to reread the absolute unit of a thirst comment about her girlfriend. “Lord almighty, babe, your fans are practically ravenous over you.”

“Go…Go figure…” you mumble out in a grunt, noticing how Topaz was starting to slow down with her thrusts, as she was beginning to get distracted with her Twitter feed. “Topazzzzz…please move faster…”

“Hm? Oh, Aha…you want me to go faster? What, do you need me that bad?”

“Yes!” You exclaim almost immediately, now slightly annoyed that she was focusing more on her phone, than you. “You wanted to fuck me because you were jealous so act like it! Stop staring at that phone like it’s your girlfriend, I’m your girlfriend!”

You pouted up at her and gave her the cutest, neediest eyes Topaz had ever seen on a woman, causing her to blush and nearly drop her phone on the bed. “Ah…fuck. You really are cute when you look at me like that…” she chuckles, gripping your hips tighter and repositioning her angle for a better thrust game. “Alright, alright…just don’t pout at me like that. You’ll make me feel bad for putting you here.”

She leans forward and kisses each of your shoulders, starting up her thrusts again before glancing at her phone one last time.

“Okay, I know I said I’d pay attention to you for now on, but this thirst is funny.”

“@/melodazeee said: literally need (Reader) to be elbow deep and braiding my guts 😍🙏”

Topaz snickers at this, before moving her hips back and forth behind you and pushing the tip of her shaft deeper till you were practically split. “Elbow deep and braiding your guys, huh?” The image is so funny for Topaz, as she could never imagine her sweet and cute girlfriend rearranging someone’s guts. “Oh how different reality is, huh babe?”

She wraps her arms around your stomach and could practically feel the small belly bulge she was giving you, every time she pistoned in and out with her cock. The sight of you creaming around her hips and staining the sheets with your juices almost too much for Topaz to handle.

“Fuck…if only I could show the world how hot your face and moans are when I take you…” she groans, before keeping you locked against her body. Breasts pushing languidly against your back while Topaz begins toying with your clit with her fingers.

“I wish I could tell the world how it’s me making you scream behind the scenes…but at least you know it’s only me. That’s all I really need…”

#kafka smut #kafka x reader #himeko smut #himeko x reader #serval smut #serval x reader #yukong smut #yukong x reader #topaz smut #topaz x reader #celebrity au #hsr smut #hsr x reader #star rail smut #star rail x reader #hsr women smut #hsr women x reader

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messylustt · 11 months

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𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥) — 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠

miguel o’hara x fem!reader. 5.4k words.

fic masterlist previous part pt five next part

angst??; violence; speaking of injuries — damn y/n is in the wars; cute little worried, mad miguel; since I’m going from y/n’s perspective to miguel’s a few times it’s may seem a bit jumpy, hope that doesn’t annoy anyone — miguel gives you shocking news. and as you go to head home you end up in a different universe, meeting some spider kid, leaving miguel and the rest of them to worry and search for you.

You walk with purposeful steps. Passing by spider variants, who spare you confused glances at your almost pissed off expression. Though when one would meet your gaze you’d smile—genuinely, which made them think that a certain person was the target of your anger.

“Oi y/n— wow.” Hobie jumped down in front of you, observing your furrowed features. But yet again they would smooth out upon seeing a face you didn’t want to punch. Pavitr and Gwen were close, coming to stop beside Hobie.

“Hi.” You greet them.

“You look stressed as hell.” Hobie comments, making you forcibly chuckle.

“Not at all.” You quickly say, before veering to pass them.

“You alright, y/n?” Gwen asks.

“I appreciate the concern. I do.” You say, walking backwards. “But I’m in a bit of a rush. And annoyingly this can’t wait.”

“Careful!” Pavitr warns as you quickly skirt past a table your hip almost hit.

“Thank you!” You shout back as you rush towards a certain office that made the lines return to your forehead.

You push open the door, stalking towards the centre of the room. At the outburst Miguel looks down. He looks away knowingly, upon seeing you and your angry expression.

“Fired?!” You exclaim up at him. He doesn’t spare you a glance, continuing to tap and swipe at different screens. “I’m fired?!”

You hold up a scribbled note that said ‘You’re fired as of Tuesday’.

“You still have a day.” Miguel comments calmly.

You scoff in disbelief. “What the hell did I do?! …and can you come down here, it’s very hard yelling like this!”

Miguel sighs, but drops down in front of you. He looks bored. And that seems to piss you off more. You step closer. “You wrote me a note?” You’re still in disbelief. “You didn’t even add the reason.”

“Believe it or not that was purposeful.” Miguel monotonously says.

You narrow your eyes. “Why?” You try to lower your tone, taking deep breathes.

Miguel just tilts his head, observing your antics. You blink. “So, you’re not gonna tell me?”

He doesn’t say a thing, confirming so. You’re beyond annoyed and in all honesty what have you to lose? You’ve already lost your job, for a reason you’re dying to know and your adrenaline enduced veins seem to think that pressuring him is a smart idea.

You step closer, but realise that your “intimidating” gaze is doing nothing, his towering height making you feel like an ant. You dart your gaze around, stopping on a swivel chair, you snatch it, quickly standing on it, so that you’re somewhat of a millimetre taller than him.

“We made a deal.” You say, finally feeling a little more in control now that Miguel is looking up at you.

“And now its over.”

“That’s not how deal’s work.” You say.

“Oh.” Miguel hums. “That’s a shame.”

Your nose twitches as you hold back a snarl. Miguel is an infuriating man—it’s just that simple.

“I’m not leaving, not until you at least give me a reason.” You say, trying to appear threatening. But being in front of a man who looks it 24/7 is really dampening your confidence.

He continues to look up at you and your heaving chest, and face that’s tightened in annoyance. He sighs. “It’s better this way, y/l/n.”

“And why is that?” You try again to get the ‘reason’ out of him.

“You can go.” He turns, beginning to head back. You stare after him, mouth opening in disbelief at his complete dismissal.

You go to get off the chair, feeling your entire being deflating. But your foot seems to miss the step down as you begin to tumble forward. But before you can hit the ground a web is attaching to your hand, and yanking you into a chest.

Miguel’s breathing is displayed in that quick moving chest. One hand wrapped around your waist, while the other—that had shot the web—has ahold of your wrist.

Your eyes are wide at the fast movement of it all. “You want to know why you’re fired?” Miguel begins. “Because you’re accident prone. One trip and you could mess everything up.”

You meet his gaze. “That’s very assumptive.” You say. “You and I both know that I haven’t “fucked” anything up.”

“Yet.”

“Yet?” Your brows furrow. “You’re betting on a ‘yet’?” You step away from him, getting your wrist out of his hold. “You made a decision based on your own wrong assumptions.”

Miguel’s expression has finally changed, actually displaying an emotion—anger—but still an emotion. He grabs the bottom of your shirt, pulling you harshly back to him as his breath fans over your face.

“How do you know my “assumptions” are wrong? Huh?” He snarls.

You glare up at him. “How do you know they’re right?” His grip tightens around the material of your shirt, but you continue. “Right now, if you were to tell me that you hated my work ethic, or that I was genuinely shit at my job, I’d leave—maybe a bit upset—but I’d understand.”

Miguel’s eyes are darting everywhere they can.

“But you’re giving me nothing.” You’re blurting everything you can think to say. If not the job back, then you’re going to get your reason for it being gone. “Just say, you hate the way I work.”

You stare at him. “Please.” You’ve somewhat calmed down. Your face softening to one close to simple pleading.

Miguel gulps, his chest slowing but his heart beating on overdrive. You were so close, looking up at him with a genuine pleading look. You just wanted closure.

His hand hadn’t let up its grip on your clothes, part of him not wanting to let go.

“I thought you said you had to have a reason to fire me.” Your voice is back to your normal tone—one that always made Miguel feel comfortable, safe. Which is odd considering you wouldn’t be able to protect him or practically anyone here. Physically at least.

You sigh, realising that there’s no budging Miguel. It’s him, for crying out loud. You were stupid to think you could get anything out of him that he didn’t want you to know.

You reach your hand down, grabbing his wrist and pulling your shirt away. You back up, hands up in an almost surrender—saying ‘fine, I’ll go’.

Miguel doesn’t like the silent sentence for some reason, his expression morphing back to anger. He again swiftly shoots a web to attach to your stomach, yanking you forward again.

“Can you stop that?” You ask, once you’re directly in front of him again. “At this rate put a leash on me.” You mutter. You’d given up. And all you wanted to do was pack up and leave. Why was he dragging this out?

“Would that work?” He whispered. And now through your annoyed haze you noticed how close he was…again.

But the drop of his tone made your breath hitch, different from before. He leans closer, red eyes fully focused on you. “Would it?” He asks again.

“Would what?”

He tilts his head, licking his lips. “A leash.”

Your eyes widen, as you choke out your answer. “That was…a joke. I was kidding.”

“But would you stay out of trouble if you had something constricting you?”

Your mouth opens and closes. He had slowly been pulling you closer by the attached web, his claws dancing across the orange before they reached the material of your shirt again.

“Es eso todo lo que tengo que hacer, chaparrita?” (Is that all I have to do) He darkly whispered.

You focused on his words. You had wanted to understand Spanish before, but now you’re dying to know. And luckily, in your own time you had been studying—having stolen your phone back.

“No, O’hara.” You begin. “Todo lo que tienes que hacer es ser honesto.” (All you have to do is be honest.)

Miguel stares at you, brows furrowing for only a moment. He looks taken aback. And from his underlying impressed expression, you know your words had made sense.

“When did you learn that?”

“Why are you firing me?” You counter.

And for once, Miguel finally gives in, up to a peak with his emotions. “Because of the fucking attack!” He finally says it, or more so ‘exclaims’ it.

You pause. “The attack?”

He hisses in annoyance at himself. “I’m supposed to be helping people—the multiverse. That was the whole point of this.” He mutters out.

“I’m not following… How did I mess that up?” You ask, staring at him in confusion.

“You didn’t. Which is beyond annoying, because I’d much rather a reason where you were the problem.”

“That’s…very flattering.” You mutter, as he continues.

“But the reason why I’m firing you is because…” he clenched his jaw, closing his eyes for a moment, seeming annoyed to even think of saying it.

“Because you got…hurt.”

And of course it goes in one ear and out the other. Because in what universe does that make sense. You stare at him, blinking too many times.

“What?”

“I’m not saying it again.” He says, stepping away from you.

“No, no. What?”

Miguel is turned away and cursing at himself. Why did he admit that? He should have just said you were shit at your job.

You finally assess his words, maybe not the underlying meaning, but his general words at least. “I’ll be honest…” you begin. “I thought that was in the job description.”

Miguel turns. “What?”

“Getting hurt.” You say. “I mean maybe not that extreme considering I’m behind a desk, but I knew the risk.”

“You knew you might get hurt if you took this job?” He reiterates.

“Yeah.” You breathe. “But you’d understand. I mean you are spider-man.”

“Yeah…” he drifts off. “But you’re…”

“A weak human?” You ask.

He looks away, frowning. “I didn’t mean that.”

“It’s fine.” You say. “I can’t lie and say it isn’t the truth.”

“It’s not—“ he says extremely quickly before he extremely quickly follows with: “—entirely true. You’re also annoying.”

You raise your brows. “So, I’m an annoying, weak human who just got fired?” You slowly ask.

Miguel presses his lips together. “It’s bet—“

“Better this way.” You cut in. “Yeah, I heard you.” You sigh. “Thanks for telling me the reason.” Your tone has shifted to one Miguel really doesn’t like. You sound…disappointed…distant. And why wouldn’t you be? Of course Miguel expected this but for some reason it just didn’t settle right in his stomach.

But before he knows it you’re opening the exit door, giving him a small smile and a nod, saying: “Sorry for the…outburst.” Before you’re shutting the door and leaving.

;;

“Where is she?” Miguel is asking Peter, thankful for once that he didn’t bring Mayday.

Peter scratches the back of his head, pretending to look busy. Miguel begrudgingly turns to Hobie, raising a brow. Hobie looks him up and down before scoffing. “You’re the one who ‘fired’ her, remember mate?” He sounds annoyed.

Miguel swiftly shifts his gaze to Gwen. “She still has a day. Where is she?”

“She decided it was best to leave today.” Gwen says.

“How’d she get a wristband?” Miguel asks, narrowing his eyes. He slowly shifts his gaze back to Hobie, who is sitting, legs up on a table.

“Hobie.”

“Yes, boss?” Hobie asks, praying innocence.

“Why?” Miguel asks, gritting his teeth.

Hobie stands, walking up to him. “Why do you care? Ya clearly seem to think she’s an annoyin’, weak human.”

Miguel holds the bridge of his nose. “Did she tell everyone that?” He mutters out in question, more so to himself.

“No, she didn’t. I ‘appened to hear it.” Hobie says, making Miguel look back up.

“So she just left?” He asks, his uninterested expression cracking a fraction—only a fraction.

“That is what you wanted.” Pavitr chimes in, twisting one of his gold bands.

;;

Miguel breathes, heading back to his office. Once inside he taps his wristband, opening up a portal. He pauses. Why was he even going? You’re gone, home, safe. Just like he wanted. Why is he messing that up by seeing you?

But he’s already through the portal arriving outside your door. You lived alone so he didn’t have to worry about scaring your family. He knocks on your bedroom door, and waits. And waits. And waits.

Look, patience isn’t something Miguel is very good at, so he twists the handle, opening the door to your room. He narrows his eyes, seeing you not inside. Sure, you could have easily gone out, but as he scouted the room, he began to realise that you hadn’t been in here for a while. Dust had formed on your desk, while your bed stayed untouched and made.

“Lyla.” He calls, her appearing quickly by his shoulder. “Was y/n here?”

Lyla computes the room, scanning for footprints or any of your fresh DNA. “No. She hasn’t been here for a while.”

Miguel goes to turn back to his portal, when he steps on something. Looking down, he sees a bracelet by the very edge of the door. Picking it up, he asks Lyla again.

“Ah, she was here, recently. Only in the doorway, it seems.” She answers.

Miguel goes to pocket the bracelet but realises that he technically doesn’t have any, so he instead puts the bracelet around his wrist, walking back through the portal.

;;

“What?” Peter voices his surprise. “But she was just heading home. She’s not there? And hold up, why did you go—“

“Hobie what wristband did you give her?” Miguel interrupts, turning to Hobie. “One of your faulty ones?”

Hobie rolls his eyes, swinging his guitar strap around his body. “It was a normal one, a spare I found.”

“And you’re sure she’s not just out?” Gwen checks.

“No, I’m not, Gwen.” Miguel sarcastically states. “You really think I didn’t check?”

“Do you think she could have gone to another universe?” Pavitr asks.

“Why would she do that?” Peter asks, brows furrowed.

“Dunno, maybe she wanted to rebele.” Hobie comments. “Wouldn’t blame her.” He shoots this at Miguel, who narrows his eyes.

“I called you all here to find her.” Miguel says. “You seem to have been around her a lot. You’d have more of an idea then any other spiders.”

;;

While the spider-men and woman were all wondering where you had went, you were wondering the exact same thing.

You had been walking down the street, trying to face any form of familiarity. But nothing stands out. This wasn’t your home. This wasn’t your universe.

You keep touching your wrist in hopes to magically find the wristband there, but no, it’s still gone. Where? You wanted to know that too.

You watched as people chatted and ate, many at the city’s cafes and restaurants. It was growing darker and as you looked up you felt a single drop of water land on your cheek.

You manage to reach a bus shelter, taking a seat. Where the hell were you?

“Miles!” A man’s voice calls.

“I’ll be back, dad! I just…forgot something…at school!” Miles answers.

You shift your gaze from the falling sky to a cop and his assumable son, who is rushing down the street. You go to shift your gaze away again when you catch sight of something falling out of the kid’s bag. Narrowing your eyes you just catch what looks to be a spider-man mask, before Miles is quickly shoving it back in.

You then hear a ruckus some way down the street. A shop…being robbed. Then it clicked. This ‘Miles’ was running to the scene, because he was this universe’s spider-man.

You quickly stood, covering your head with your hands, preventing some of the rain from soaking your hair as you rushed to follow. Maybe this spider-man was apart of the spider society, and had a wristband. Whatever the outcome, you felt better that you had somewhat of a plan.

;;

When you reached the shop you chose to wait outside, knowing it not smart to just run into danger.

The fight is finished rather quickly, with a few broken windows and thrown food, but no one from the looks of it got hurt.

And as you began to follow Miles—having spotted him heading to an alleyway—you realise how creepy you would seem just following this kid who doesn’t know who the hell you are. But it’s too late to backtrack because he’s swiftly turning and shooting a web to attach your hand to the concrete wall.

You gasp in shock as the kid quickly runs up. “I’m sorry, I thought you were—“

“An evil dude, yeah don’t worry I started to think so too.” You chuckle, slowing your breathing. Your hand had smacked pretty hard against the wall, and as Miles cuts the web you realise that your hand is partially red and bruised.

“Sh— I am so sorry.” He said, spotting the slight injury too.

You wave him off. “That’s alright. I…uh needed to ask you something.”

Miles stands straighter, probably expecting you to point him in the direction of more danger. “You are the spider-man of this universe, right?”

Miles pauses. “Wait, you know—“ he shuffled closer, whispering. “You know about the other universes?”

You nod. “I was wondering if you had a wristband.”

“A wristband?” Miles’ confusion makes you deflate.

“So you don’t know about that…” you sigh, your plan dissolving away.

“Know about what?”

You smile. “That’s alright.”

You begin to step back out of the alleyway, placing your hands in your jacket pocket. “Nice job, by the way.” you gesture to the hung up robber.

“Thanks.” Miles shrugs, still looking thoughtful.

But as you near the street, you suddenly glitch, hitting against the wall, hissing in pain. Shit, or course. You were in a different universe…without a wristband.

Miles quickly reaches your side. “You’re not from here.” He mutters. He then loops his arm around your midriff, your body continuing to slightly glitch. “Jeez, I didn’t think that would hurt as much.” You mutter.

Miles brings you back into the alleyway, resting you against the wall. “What universe are you from?”

“Earth 1–“ you glitch. Then finally you stop, resting your head against the wall.

Miles kneels by you, still deep in thought. “Would you know a girl named Gwen Stacy?” He suddenly asks. Almost as if he had been waiting to ask someone this exact question.

You quickly meet his gaze—through the mask, of course. “You know Gwen?” You ask

“You know Gwen?” He repeats back.

“Yeah, she’s apart of the spider society.”

“The spider what?” Miles asks.

But you continue. “How do you know her? Wait.” You pause. “You’re Miles right?” You double check, not wanting to seem creepy and stalker-like.

“Yeah…” he drifts off.

“She spoke about you.” You smile. “A lot, actually.”

Miles decided on taking his mask off, either deciding on it being fine for you to see, or knowing that you must know what he looks like already. You can spot a faint blush on his cheeks at the mention of Gwen mentioning him.

“How did you get here?” He asks.

“It had to have been from the wristband.” You mutter. Before speaking louder for Miles. “There’s these wristbands that can transport you to different universes without all this glitchy mess.”

“Wow. Do you have one now?” He asks, looking to your wrist.

You shake your head. “Somehow I lost mine. And to be honest, I didn’t plan on coming here. I meant to go home.” You then get reminded of the fact that you got fired, and you mentally narrow your gaze at a non existent Miguel.

His reason still didn’t make sense to you. But you did get one. And you weren’t one to backtrack on your word, leaving like you had said.

“I’ve helped send a few spider…people back to their universes.” Miles begins. “But that was using something kingpin—this villain, created.”

You rest your head back against the concrete wall, the rain growing louder and louder, and heavier and heavier. “How are you gonna get home?” Miles asks.

You sigh. “I’m really not sure.”

;;

Miguel has gotten Lyla to try and retrace your steps through the different universes. But there’s a lot. So, even though it’s been a few hours she’s found nothing as of yet.

Miguel didn’t know how to feel about the two different options of your disappearance. You could have either gone on your own—chosen to, like Hobie had said. Why you would ever do that, Miguel would love to know. But would that make it his fault if something happened?

He knew you loved your job. And he had fired you, for selfish reasons that he covered up with, it being ‘in your best interest’. To Miguel it was, but you wouldn’t see it that way. He’s sure you don’t.

But then there’s the alternative that you had gotten taken. Miguel barely dove into that theory, his hands turning to fists so tight that he cut the skin of his palms through his suit, his claws tainted with his own blood. He almost felt bad for whoever had the terrible idea to take you.

If you thought what happened to those masked men in the office was bad, then you’d be horrified to see what he’d do to this supposed captor.

But right now it seemed to be worse—the not knowing. He didn’t know if you were happy, scared, living your best life, or…dead.

“Lyla!” He exclaimed turning to her and her tiny computers.

“No matter how many times you yell my name, it’s not gonna make me find her any quicker.” She sing songs.

He groans, going back to pacing. Then he hears the arrival of Gwen, Hobie, Peter and Pavitr. Turning, he doesn’t like the looks on their faces. “What is it?” He asks, crossing his arms.

Gwen looks down. “We found out that…she didn’t go voluntarily.”

There’s silence besides the almost ‘loud’ gaze of Miguel. “What was that?”

“There’s been talk through majority of the universes, about these…guys.” Peter begins.

“And when one showed us a left behind mask, it was the exact same as what those men that infiltrated HQ wore.”

“What do you mean by ‘didn’t go voluntarily’?” Miguel asks, stepping closer to them all. “How do you know that?”

“It’s more ov’ a guess.” Hobie says. “From what people were sayin’, those “guys” never let someone get away alive.”

“Y/n did.” Gwen adds, looking solemn.

“So, you lot came here, with one piece of information saying that she’s either gonna get killed or is already dead?” Miguel calmly asks.

But his ‘calm’ tone isn’t necessarily…calm. It’s more like the calm before the storm.

“It’s information that could help us.” Gwen tries to stay positive. “We can try and track these masked guys. Maybe there’s a base in a universe. That’s where she could be.”

“All I’m hearing is ‘could’ and ‘maybe’, Gwen.” Miguel says. “I’m gonna need something a little more definite than that.”

All the spider-people seem to notice the way Miguel’s expression shifted the moment the ‘masked men’ were brought up. He knows something they don’t. And that seems to irritate Hobie the most.

“Well, what do you ‘ave?” He asks Miguel. “We’ve at least found some’ing. What ‘ave you found?”

Miguel’s gaze is narrowed, his face solemn as he stares at Hobie. Hobie steps closer, his boots the second loudest thing in the room.

“Another thing,” Hobie adds. “While I’m talking…” He taps at his jeans to a beat only he can seem to hear. “I’ve never seen you act—I’m surprised to say—worried. Especially with y/n. I thought you hated her.”

“Mind your business.” Miguel turns, preparing to web up to the screens.

“My bad, boss.” Hobie backs up, a small smirk on his face.

“I thought you two were friends?” Why Miguel was suddenly having this conversation with Hobie he wasn’t sure, he just felt angry, because Hobie sounded so entitled to you. Like Miguel should stay “hating” you and that’s it.

Of course Hobie was just being his normal self, but with Miguel’s gaze glazed over with too many emotions he’s barely felt before, he sees red.

“So, why don’t you seem more worried about her?” Miguel continues.

Hobie chuckles. “You are worried.” He mutters to himself, shaking his head.

Miguel grits his teeth. “Ever heard of guilt?” He asks. “I don’t particularly want her to die. Having that on my back is gonna be extremely annoying.” Lies, lies, lies.

“Sure, Miguel.” Hobie hasn’t wiped his smirk off yet, and Miguel’s temper is rising.

“Alright, this is not helping.” Gwen quickly chimes in. “Y/n’s helped us, and we’re gonna help her…let’s just leave it at that.”

Miguel heard her. But all he can seem to focus on is Hobie’s smug face, as if he knows something no one else does. Something not even Miguel has really admitted to yet.

;;

You and Miles have talked, about a lot of different things actually. You had originally been trying to come up with a plan to get you home, but it soon evolved into telling each other’s life stories.

“Please tell me that is not how Gwen got her hair like that?” You’re laughing.

“I hadn’t known what to do.” Miles groans, slightly embarrassed at the memory of his first day as spider-man. His hand—being extremely sticky—not leaving Gwen’s hair.

“Wait.” Miles suddenly stands, gazing around. “Somethings wrong.”

You quickly join him, darting your gaze around the alleyway. The rain had ceased, so the sound of heavy footsteps were growing much clearer.

You stiffen, as you carefully follow Miles to edge of the alleyway, right before you walk onto the street. But that’s when your heart stops.

A small group of masked men stand, much more intimidating in the clearer light—the rush of the explosion and fear before having clouded your vision. What were they doing here?

“You were supposed to watch her!” One is exclaiming to another. “Now she’s run off somewhere. Did you at least take her wristband?”

Your eyes widen. They’re the reason you’re here? You press further into the wall, listening hard. Why? You desperately wanted that answer.

“Of course I took—“ but he stops, quickly snapping his head in the direction of you and Miles. You quickly hit back against the concrete, Miles doing the same as both your chests heave.

Miles begins to pull down his mask, preparing to face them. But you grab his arm. It wasn’t a coincidence that these same men infiltrated HQ and are now here, assumably having sent you here as well. Something didn’t feel right, and something seemed to tell you that they upgraded in some way since their last attack.

These guy’s suits are bigger, more armoured, with neater woven green stitching. This was obviously some sort of ‘crew’. Most crews are based on a cause. Like the spider society, for example. They’re there to protect the multiverse from inter-dimensional anomalies.

What are these guys fighting for? Could they possibly be fighting against something?

You had too many unanswered questions to let this kid get involved. “Just hold on.” You say to Miles, staying pressed to the cold wall. He pauses, shifting his gaze who you, in question.

“I’ve seen them before.” You begin. “I think they might be the reason I’m here…”

“Then we should talk to them. Capture them and get them to talk.” Miles eagerly says.

You chuckles. “I appreciate that. But I don’t think it’s wise. Not with them.”

Miles goes to say more, when the sound of footsteps near. You immediately pull Miles farther out of view. Then Miles feels it. Instead of the ‘tingle’ he gets when danger is near, it’s more like a foreboding that travels though his entire being. And now he can understand your cautiousness, because for the first time in a while he feels genuinely scared—powerless.

The only thing you can think to do is begin to head down the alleyway, picking up speed. Then you’re both running. “Hey! I think I found her!” A voice shouts, and that’s when you run. The type of run that makes you feel lightheaded, and sick in your stomach.

Miles grabs you, web slinging across a building. “I should be fighting them!” He exclaims through the wind. “Why am I running away!?”

“It’s probably a survival instinct!” You exclaim, as he continues to swing. “Which is concerning since your spider-man.” You mutter this more to yourself. If spider-man’s first instinct was to run then what could this mean for the rest of society?

Then suddenly Miles is getting yanked back, his web snapping, resulting in you both falling to the hard ground. You hit the concrete with a harsh slam, making your eyes blur and your ankle scream.

“Shit.” You mutter. You’re praying it’s not twisted. Please don’t be sprained—you chant in your head, as you scramble to your feet, spotting a nearing masked man, claws out and ready.

You couldn’t see Miles, but to be fair you couldn’t see much. So you ran, or more painfully hobbled away. You had to put pressure on your ankle so that you would move. The man is nearing, his heavy breathing sounding louder than it should be.

But then you feel a hand wrap around your waist, pulling you somewhere dark and desolate. You go to scream, eyes wide, when a hand gets placed over your mouth, quieting any forming sounds that were about to fall.

You can’t see who it is, your blurry gaze and the dark atmosphere making it difficult. You squint, only knowing that someone is pushing you up against a wall, one hand wrapped around your waist, as the other keeps you quiet.

Then you feel a breath by your ear. “Don’t move.” He breathes. And finally the slight accent and familiar tone makes your entire body slump.

Miguel.

You never thought you’d feel so relieved to know it’s him, but once he had spoken, Miguel could feel your entire body relax, nearly sliding to the floor, the pressure you were placing on your injured ankle now faltering.

Miguel keeps you upright, tightening his grip on your waist, as he keeps his mouth by your ear. “Would now be a bad time to ask why you left a day early?”

And you actually laugh, half heartedly and mixed in with a groan of pain, but still a laugh nonetheless.

Then Miguel is moving his hand to hold your chin, as he tries to focus your gaze. “Can you see?”

Your eyes had begun to droop, the exhaustion gradually catching up to you. But then you grab Miguel’s arm tightly. “Miles.” You say, remembering the kid.

“Miles?” Miguel questions.

“The kid. I was with a kid. Another spider-man. Is he okay?” You rush this out, forcing Miguel to place his hand back over your mouth.

“Shh. You’ll get us caught.” He whispers.

You protest, needing an answer, because you could feel yourself slipping from consciousness.

“He’ll be fine. Gwen is with him.” Miguel consoles, seeing your stress. Your shoulders slump in relief, and finally the exhaustion catches up, grabbing a hold of you, as your eyes begin to flutter.

“Wow, wow.” Miguel mutters, catching your dropping body. “Don’t close your eyes.” He all but demands, but it’s too late. Your eyes roll closed, as darkness gives you a hug.

Miguel slips to the ground with you, holding the back of your head from hitting back. He prays that it’s just exhaustion, and nothing more…permanent.

His chest is heaving, his eyes trained on you, while his ears stayed focused, in case the sound of heavy boots broke the city noise.

But he hears nothing of concern, his finger—at first without permission—dragging along your jaw.

Your lips were slightly parted, your body so limp in his hold. “I’m sorry.” He mutters quietly, his dragging finger drifting up to your face, to brush a stray hair, still slightly damp from the rain.

His finger pauses by your lips, not quite touching, just hovering. He’d been in denial. Big denial. And maybe you wouldn’t feel the same, maybe you hated him. But right now Miguel couldn’t find it in himself to care, all the loud voices in his head zoning out to one single voice saying ‘I like her’ … ‘I like her a lot’.

sorry, this one kinda goes everywhere. i needed to add my guy miles <3 i don’t know if I like this one *crying* it feels too random. I’ll hopefully get back on track next chapter

part six is on its way! — thanks so much for all your guys support on this series, you guys are truly incredible

taglist: @dangerousdreamkitty @ale-maral @inosukesweirdwife @flooftoof @cynicallyaestetic @silassinclair @mariiyoushi @ilovedilfjake @toastlover21 @wlellsl @k1rbbo @bitchotine @guacam011y @blnk338 @wolfiepirate @kurxxmi @corpsebridenightamare @ohantonia @yunonaneko @irenered-20 @z3r0art @sunflowercandie @perilous-pasta @gloriouskryptonitecrown @whyamistillhere78 @ritzzzsblog @mm1sta @tealcoloured-murder @aweebsimp101 @livelaughlaurv @s0dium @roguepancake @sunshiines-stuff @internal-soundtrack @oscarisdaddy69 @clairacassidy @captainquake42 @nanaloverz @ilyless @sindulgent666 @shine101 @thebadasssass @hibeejibees @nirishin @ily2lia @lillunna @cinnamoncattie @futuristicpandakid @maroonobserver @thatsopanu @edgyficuselastica @kittekat420 @stararctic @maxi-ride @renn-pumkin-head @scaraza @justanotherkpopstanlol @fauxizs @cloudsandrenoswife @ilmovor @larissa-lolll @elliemm @httpkiyoomi @j2warren @arquiiva @ilovemiguelohara @a-monster-can-filled-with-cum @fandom-gal44 @elwyn7 @albiebright

taglist #2 taglist #3 taglist #4 taglist #5

#the miguel effect #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel fucking o’hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara one shot #miguel o’hara x y/n #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara x you #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara across the spider verse #atsv #atsv x reader #spiderman atsv #spider man 2099 #across the spider verse #across the spiderverse

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hedgehog-moss · 3 months

Text

I received a BroomSlayer 3000 for Christmas!

Behind its jovial mien lies a cold-blooded killer. It's got merciless jaws to clamp onto the plant and a heavy pivoting handle to extract the roots.

I think Father Christmas saw the Christmas Broom held hostage in my living room, under which he was supposed to leave presents, and realised I had reached a breaking point. Last winter I removed all the invasive shrubs in the pasture. I cut everything! Down to the tiniest baby broomlets! And one year later the place looks like this

It's luxuriant. It's humiliating. It's a boundless undulating broom prairie. Clearly as far as they're concerned, I just gave them a nice trim which allowed them to grow back even healthier. So I needed to try something more violent. Get to the root of the problem. (Sorry.)

(I noticed that the spot of last year's broom bonfire is still completely broom-free, but I have not yet reached the point where I set fire to the entire pasture and hope for the best)

Now let me demonstr

—wait a minute.

Is Pampe eating broom??

Ah, no. She's eating pointless, flavourless, leafless brambles which she wouldn't look at twice if they weren't right next to the plants I'd like her to eat, thus emphasising how much she is not eating these.

For a second here I thought you were being helpful.

I saw Poldine eating brambles instead of broom as well. Bad Poldine!

Poldine recovered from this heartbreak after I let her sniff the snow boots I got for Christmas. Just like cats (her idols) she enjoys inspecting new things. (She also enjoys pulling on the laces delicately with her lips to untie them. This game never gets old, if you're a mischievous young llama.)

Anyway. The BroomSlayer 3000 works!! But it's hard work. I did not think it was going to be hard work, because the website made it look so easy.

I wanted to take a little video of me uprooting my enemies but then I thought an illustration would better convey my emotional state—there was a demo video on the gardening website which sells the BroomSlayer and it was the loveliest most bucolic scene, featuring a polite tree who basically picked up its skirts and scampered away with a contrite gasp the minute it realised its presence was unwanted. I really thought uprooting things was going to be a picnic, because I am not immune to propaganda.

To be fair to the gardening website, maybe it's just broom. With that said, it's incredibly satisfying to pull on the handle and hear the delightful sskkrrhh sound of roots being violently torn out of the ground. It's an exhausting whole-body workout but eventuaIly I will grow stronger than broom. I made a murderous Veni Vidi Vici playlist to put myself in the right mood and with this musical support and my new antibroom weapon I will prevail.

#crawling along

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strawberrysturniolo · 4 months

Text

jealous // fwb!chris

summary: your friends with benefits, chris, sees you with another guy at a party and takes you somewhere to remind you who you belong to warnings: smutty af so if you don't like that, get lost! semi public sex, fem!receiving

Chris Sturniolo and I made a pact a few months ago.

He helps me get over my ex, and I keep him busy.

This pact was all about us getting something — sex.

When we first met, I was in a long term relationship with a guy who didn’t have his head on straight. Chris was proudly single, but in desperate need of sex.

After a night of crying and confusion, I tried something I never thought I would bother with.

I texted Chris and asked him to come over, both of us knowing damn well what the other wanted.

We had sex all night, sometimes waking the other up with our mouths all over each other, sometimes with his dick lining perfectly with my pussy when we cuddled that it would be a sin for us not to finish the job. The next morning we vowed that we would keep hooking up, only if we promised that it was just sex, and there were absolutely no feelings involved.

I wasn’t too thrilled to hear about some influencer party that Chris was going to. I didn’t care that he had a life around girls, and I didn’t care if he was into them. What I cared about was him putting his dick somewhere without letting me know, and me suffering the consequences of him transferring something to me.

I was even less thrilled when my best friend, Nick, invited me as his plus one. Don’t get me wrong, anywhere Nick goes, I’m usually there too, but the whole LA party scene is not my thing at all. I can last about an hour before I'm tapping out and wanting to be home.

He begged and begged and I caved, leaving me to stand in front of my closet to search for an outfit.

My phone chimed on my bed.

Chris: Why am I only just now hearing that you’re coming tonight?

Me: 🤷🏻‍♀️ Black lingerie or white?

Chris: Come over.

Me: Can’t. Uber is getting here soon.

Chris: Cancel it.

Me: See you at the partyyyy

After Ubering and searching for the way into the building, I pulled out my phone to text Nick in hopes of finding him. Before I realized, a familiar hand slid across my back, finding my waist and turning me around.

Chris’ smirk was the most prominent feature on his face. “Hey pretty.”

I had to stop my stomach from flipping at the compliment, the nickname he has attached to me lately. It’s hard not to fall for him when he says shit like that.

I try to act unbothered for the sake of keeping my sanity. “Where’s Nick?”

Chris’ head dips in a certain direction, pointing to Nick through a crowd of people. “I’m here though.”

I nod once. “I see that.”

“You wearin’ this for me?”

His eyes linger down my chest, focusing on the mesh material that leaves little to the imagination. A black mini skirt hugs my hips, inviting Chris’ hands to my waist. I suck in a breath before pushing his hands away.

“Not here,” I warn him in a whisper.

“Then let’s find somewhere,” he suggests immediately, his urges showing.

It takes everything in me to push his hands away and search further for my friend.

As the minutes pass, I find myself sticking close to Nick, nodding along to any conversation that he is involved in. He makes socializing look so easy, taking control of everyone in the room in the best way. Meanwhile, I look lost next to him.

In hopes of liquid courage and something to hold onto instead of picking at my fingers, I head back to the bar, ordering a vodka red bull - something to keep me feeling comfortable, but hopefully keeping me awake and not yawning in everyone’s faces. The last thing I want is for Nick to feel bad about inviting me, and for everyone else to think I’m a bitch.

Seconds later, I’m trapped in a conversation with someone I really couldn’t care less about. Some model talking about his work, clearly trying to impress me. The sad thing is, I know he’s trying hard to make me swoon, but this is what happens at every one of these parties. He’s not flirting with me because of anything I have to offer. He’s simply trying to make himself look good.

I try to pay attention to his words, but out of the corner of my eye I’m able to spot someone’s glare from a mile away.

Chris stands fifty feet from me, his jaw clenched and his eyes glaring at the man in front of me.

Suddenly, I’m interested in this model.

My hand trails up his arm, earning a satisfied smirk from him before he steps closer, his thighs brushing mine. I don’t even have to be looking at Chris to know his reaction to that action — he’s charging over to us.

Before I have time to suggest us leaving this spot to get away from Chris, he’s already squeezing between us.

His nose is inches from mine, and when they brush, I find myself thinking about last night, his nose rubbing my clit while he ate my pussy.

“Who’s your friend, baby?”

My eyes could burn holes in his. I don’t know if I’m more mad that he’s doing this right now, or embarrassed that I was so zoned out that I don’t even remember this guys name. I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t bother telling me.

When Chris doesn’t get a response from me, he turns over his shoulder. “You can go now.”

With one look, the nameless guy I was talking to vanishes. I smack Chris’ chest. “You’re so fucking annoying.”

“Me?” He responds with a surprised tone. “You’re the one rubbing all up on guys in front of me. You expect me to just sit back and do nothing?”

“Yes!” I shout, walking away. His hand on my wrist pulls me back to him. “I’m not yours to claim, and you coming up and stopping me from talking to any guy you see is fucking pathetic. You and I fuck. That’s it.”

I watch as Chris’ mouth curves to a grin. What now?

“You’re right, we fuck,” he agrees, but his fingertips tracing my thigh in front of everyone send shivers down my body for more than one reason. “And right now I’m thinking about pulling this little skirt around your hips and bending you over a sink.”

Shit.

I can feel my legs getting tighter, and I struggle to stand up straight.

He dips his head to my ear, whispering to me. “If I pulled your panties aside, how wet would you be for me?”

I open my mouth to answer, but nothing comes out.

“Would you be ready for my cock, or do you need me to stretch your tight cunt out with my fingers?”

My breathing starts to falter before I can bother controlling it.

Chris stands up straight looking at me and noticing every change in expression. He wraps an arm around my shoulders, and starts walking me to the bathroom. “I know baby, let’s take care of you.”

I’m unable to form words. He continues to say quick hello’s to everyone he sees while I stand at his hip like a poor puppy. I give in to him so fast every time. It’s embarrassing, but can you blame me?

We make it to the bathroom, and after he locks the door, he turns around and leans on it, his arms crossed as he stares at me.

“You know I don’t like it when you talk to other guys in front of me,” he warns.

“I’m allowed to talk to other guys. We aren’t together.”

“Not when you’re dressed like that.”

“So now you have an issue with how I dress and who I talk to? Anything else I should know of?”

“I have an issue with you dressing in a mesh shirt and a mini skirt when you aren’t mine to claim, yes.”

“Well that’s stupid.”

“Is it?”

This is a losing battle. As much as I try, it’s obvious how bad I want him.

I need him.

He notices the switch flip in me. He knows exactly when I give in without me having to say a word.

His arms uncross and within seconds they’re wrapped around me, lifting me to sit on the bathroom sink, yanking my underwear down to my knees. He ducks his head underneath the fabric, yanking me by my thighs a few inches so he can have easier access to my dripping pussy.

He groans at the sight of me struggling without him touching me. “Such a pretty pussy.” His fingers grip the sides of my thighs, digging so hard I’m sure it’ll leave marks. He places a wet kiss over my dripping cunt. I shudder at his touch, and quickly grip his curls as he starts licking harshly over my throbbing clit.

“Fuck, Chris.” The words come out in a pathetic whimper, but they only encourage him to do more.

His hands spread my legs further before the tip of his tongue fucks me. My moans are uncontainable, and I can feel his smirk growing as I struggle to contain myself.

I can feel Chris trying not to put his hands everywhere on me. The last time we fucked in a public setting, he emphasized that he did not want to put his hands anywhere near my pussy in case there was anything gross lingering on his hands. The animalistic strokes of his tongue on me are a confirmation of his ideas. The harsh movements of his tongue on my clit have me shuddering, gripping his hair as tight as my fingers will let me.

“Tastes so good, baby,” he mumbles against my thigh, staring up at me before licking up my inner thigh, back to my clit. His head starts to move more with every swipe of his tongue until he’s making out with my pussy.

Chris never fails to prove that eating me out is his favorite part of this whole friends with benefits situation. While he loves burying his dick in me, there’s nothing he loves more than tasting me and watching me falter as he pleases me with his mouth.

My back arches and my thighs close around his face, brushing across the light stubble growing on his cheeks. “Chris, I’m gonna cum.”

He yanks my underwear down until it’s completely off, stuffing the pair of lace panties in his pocket and wrapping my legs around his waist. As he unbuttons his pants and rubs over himself through his boxers, he mutters, “Can you cum around my cock for me, baby? Be a good girl and wait for me to tell you, hmm?”

“Uh huh,” I nod. Any sound leaving my mouth sounds like a cry for help.

The outline of his throbbing dick is prominent as he strokes himself over his underwear. “Stop wasting your time with the other guys and you can have me whenever.”

I don’t have a chance to argue back with him. His dick is in his fist, red and throbbing. His tip is leaking like he’s been holding back from fucking me since I walked in this place. He strokes himself a few times, finding pleasure in it by the way his head falls back. Before I get the chance to offer anything to him, he spreads my legs back open with his knee and rubs his tip over my clit.

A weak moan leaves my lips and I’m unable to stop myself from begging for more.

“Please, Chris,” I whine, watching as his lips part as he watches himself tease my entrance.

“You have me baby.”

I almost feel my heart expand, but I’m cut off by the abrupt motion of his dick pushing into me, stretching me out until he’s buried deep and I’m completely wrapped around him.

He stares down at us in awe. “This pussy was made for me.”

I nod, at a loss for words.

He thrusts harshly. “Whose pussy is this?”

I wince. “Yours.”

“Tell me,” he demands with his teeth gritted.

“FUCK – Yours, Chris. It’s yours.”

“Good girl,” he says proudly before slamming his hips back into mine. Every thrust is sharper than the last. His pace is steady, but it all changes when I wrap my legs around his waist with no intention of letting go.

He lifts me off the counter, holding underneath my thighs. His head rests on my right shoulder and I can feel him looking at us in the mirror. He pushes my skirt up further, revealing my entire ass. He slaps it harshly, making me groan.

“You love it, don’t act like you don’t,” he teases.

I nod.

“Tell me,” he says as he slaps my ass again, harder this time.

“Shit, I love it, Chris,” I admit, the words flying out of my mouth. “I love it so much.”

His hands hold underneath my ass, his hips driving up into me. Every thrust has a slapping sound following, and after a few minutes of a steady pace, I can feel him speeding up.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans into my neck. “I can’t hold off anymore. You gonna cum with me?”

I nod, whimpering against him.

“Words, princess.”

“Yes, Chris. I’m almost there.”

As he presses closer to me and fucks me in his arms, I can feel myself going limp. My clit is throbbing and has been all night, and being this close to a release is enough to make me feel like I’m falling.

“Chris.” My hands grip his hair tightly, like I’m going to lose him at any second.

“I got you, baby,” he assures me. “Cum around me. I’m right here with you.”

I feel myself convulse around his cock, earning a string of pornographic moans from him before his pace slows down, his hips burying themselves against me as he pumps his cum inside my pussy.

“Ohhhh god,” he moans. The sound has become my new favorite thing.

He carefully sets me on the ground, letting my feet find the floor before he lets go and kisses me softly, the first kiss we have shared all night. He adjusts my skirt, smirking at the evidence of him on my legs, dripping out of me.

“Do not wipe any of that up,” he tells me, a seriousness in his tone that I’m not used to. “I want you to walk around this party with my cum dripping out of you, and if you even try to let anyone else flirt with you, that’ll be your reminder of who you belong to. Got it?”

I nod, trying to find my balance before leaving the bathroom with him. At this point, most of our friends know what we are, and if they didn’t, they were sure as hell gonna find out now.

I spent the rest of the night with Chris at my side, rubbing my legs subtly or making snide comments about how I was full of him still. I knew what I wanted, but some of him was better than none.

#matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic

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luveline · 2 years

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𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary You ask your best friend Eddie to give you your first kiss. Eddie's not really in the habit of saying no to you. [4k]

warnings fem!reader, fluff, first kiss, eddie being totally sweet on his best friend, wrist kisses, sharing a bed, eddie reads to you, you hurt your arm and eddie is overprotective/doting etc, unspoken mutual pining, requested here

𓆩❤︎𓆪

"This is way heavier than you implied," you say, words followed by a startled, pained gasp as you lose your grip on the amp and it almost pops your wrist from the socket trying to keep it up.

"Shit," he says.

Eddie quickly shoves the bigger amp he'd been carrying into the back of the van and makes to help you, his fingers pushing into your stomach as he lugs it up into his arms.

"I'm sorry," he says, and for once you think his apology might be genuine. "I forget how heavy they feel at the end of the night."

Your arms ache. You definitely pulled something you didn't mean to, a sharp pinching pain climbing from your wrist to the crook of your elbow. "Eddie, I think I hurt myself."

He shoves the last amp into the van and doesn't bother closing the door, turning back to you with a concerned grimace. "Yeah? Your wrist?"

He holds his hand out and you extend your arm, wincing. He's tentative, taking your wrist in one hand while the other grasps your upper arm loosely.

"What's it feel like?"

"Like I twisted my ankle, but in my wrist."

He laughs under his breath at your explanation, sweat-damp hair falling into his eyes as he looks you over. "The word you're looking for is 'sprained,'" he informs you jovially.

There's no physical evidence of any injury, not that either of you had expected that, and he has no real reason to be touching you. His thumb smooths over the flat of your wrist.

"How bad is it? Amputation?" you ask, suddenly all drama. You put on a tearful frown and pinch your eyebrows together.

Eddie – who's used to this, who encourages this – nods gravely. "You'll likely never use it again."

"Good heavens, doc. Is there really nothing you can do?" you implore, leaning away from him with your uninjured hand thrown to your forehead.

"Nothing… unless you're willing to undergo the most invasive, painful, gruesome operation any one girl has ever undergone."

"Anything."

"Close your eyes."

You close them, always willing to play these fanciful make-believe's with him. He's charming, it's funny, but you can't say you expect the hot press of his lips against your pulse. If it had been a smacking, playful thing with too much spit you would have laughed about it, but it hadn't been. It's gentle. It's sweet.

He pulls away. You open your eyes to find him lingering, staring at your wrist. A split-second.

"Fixed, right?" he asks smugly.

You take your arm back and curl it towards your chest, twinging with pain. "Definitely. Good as new."

Eddie slams the back doors shut and stretches with a groan, cool night air kissing the shining sliver of abdomen that emerges. He's always sweaty after a gig. You know you should find it gross.

You should.

"Alright, get in the van, sweet thing. It's way past your bedtime."

You laugh and climb into the passenger side, skirt riding up and tights featuring a brand new ladder thanks to some idiot who'd almost broken your leg. You point it out to Eddie as he starts the engine, "Did you see this? S'my last good pair of tights."

He tugs at the ladder and you squeal, pulling your thigh up and over the other so he can't reach it.

"There, they're punk now. Do it on purpose and you're cool," he says sagely.

"Are you staying?" he asks, the question so familiar it doesn't need a proper end.

"Thanks for that."

There's lost minutes of a comfortable silence. You watch the roads change as you draw nearer and nearer to home.

"If you shower first."

He sighs like this is very tortuous of you to ask but agrees. "Yeah, whatever. Always get what you want," he mutters, taking a rough turn that has you gripping your seat. "My bad."

"Learn to drive!" you demand, laughing.

"You learn to drive! Then you wouldn't need a ride every night!"

"Baby," you say earnestly. "Rides to your shows."

He looks at you out of the corner of his eye. You turn to him, perplexed by his uncharacteristic silence. Usually he has something quick to say, an uppity comeback, too witty for his own good and twice as fast.

"What? Wait, don't tell me, you're having a total epiphany right now on why I'm the best friend you've ever had." You nod to yourself, leaning back in your seat with your chin held high. "It's easy. I'm extremely dedicated, I'm sharp as a whip. I'm funny, I'm confident-"

"Humble."

"I'm humble. And obviously very pretty."

He hums to himself. "I kind of hate when you joke about stuff like that."

You blink and drop your chin. "What?" you ask. Weaker than you mean to, your chest feels that heavy weight of an unexpected argument, but Eddie doesn't look angry.

"Because- 'cos I know you don't mean it." He draws his eyes from the road, a familiar stretch of black top leading into Forest Hills, and gives you a well-meaning grimace.

"Sorry, I-"

He clears his throat. "No, don't be. I guess I wished you actually believed that shit. Do you know how many people would come to all of my shows? Listen to the same ten songs, drink the same shitty beer and then help me pack up at the end of the night?" He sounds back to normal. Punchy, a hair's width from incensed. "Nobody but you."

"I'm your best friend," you say firmly. "Of course I'm gonna do all that."

"Right." He laughs and scrapes a hand through his dishevelled hair.

You pull into the parking spot and climb out of the van. You slip like you always do, giggling to yourself as Eddie comes around to roll his eyes at you and shut the door.

"We'll leave it for tonight," he says after he's retrieved Sweetheart, his prized guitar, traipsing up the steps to the front door. "Don't want you straining your poor wrist any further."

You kind of agree. "Or you could do it all by yourself and I'll watch."

"Maybe tomorrow. Are you hungry?"

You ignore his question and waltz straight into his bedroom, throwing yourself down on his rumpled sheets with a harrumph. He puts Sweetheart back into her rightful place and presses a kiss to his fingers. You can't help thinking of the kiss he'd given you, bringing your wrist to your chest where he can't see. It feels the same as it had before, but different. It still aches.

Eddie throws himself down next to you and climbs up over your back, a hand on your shoulder. "Is it still hurting?"

You squeeze it. "Not really."

"Let me see? If it's swollen I could get you some ice. Or, like, a bag of frozen peas. Not that I think we'd have anything that green in the freezer," he corrects himself.

"I don't think they have to be peas to work."

"What if that's where you're wrong? What if we totally need the power of the peas?"

You turn on your back so he can see your wrist. Hovering above you, all his smells and sounds are amplified. The gentle hum as he looks over your arm. The smell of sweat under deodorant, cigarette smoke and something funkier. Then, mixed in with everything, cedar.

When his kind attention on your wrist becomes too much you wrinkle your nose and make a big show of moving away from him. "God, you stink."

"You're fucking horrible," he says, putting your arm down carefully. "I'm gonna shower. Find your pajamas."

"Did you wash them?" you ask as he climbs off of the bed.

"Nope."

You grumble about dirty clothes and search for the pajamas you'd left here last time. Eddie disappears into the cramped bathroom and you can hear every sound he makes, the clipping of bottle caps, even his footsteps moving from the cabinet under the sink and into the shower.

Water sloughs heavily against the glass partition and you try not to listen, try not to think about him and what he's doing and where his hands are.

When he comes in he's in a towel and nothing else. You squeak and pull his covers up past your eyes. "Christ, Eds."

"What? It's my room. I forgot to take clothes in with me."

"You're sullying my eyes."

"Like you've never seen it before."

You scowl. "I've never seen you naked."

"Can you come out? You're being ridiculous."

You hear him go into the bathroom and let the sheets fall from your face, blinking at the sudden brightness. Yellow lamp light bounces of the poster-covered walls, shiny as egg yolk.

He's left the bathroom door open. You peer out into the hallway and then stop yourself, feeling guilty. You don't actually want to see him naked. You're curious.

"Fine," he says as he trudges back in, plaid pants low on his hips. He shrugs into a t-shirt and it sticks to his damp torso, leaving his dark happy trail on show for the second time tonight. "You've never seen me naked. It's not like you've never seen any guy naked."

You feel a tepid mixture of embarrassment and defensiveness. "Who says I've seen a guy naked?"

His eyes are owlishly large, dark lashes not far from kissing his eyebrows as they pinch together. "What?"

You don't repeat yourself.

"You fucked Jerry Mandoza."

"Did not," you say, startled.

"I gave you condoms."

You resist the urge to glare at him. "And you can have them back, if you like. They've been in my nightstand for a year."

"I thought you liked him."

"I did. I just wasn't… ready."

He holds his hands up in surrender. "That's fine, babe. Swear. But, you never told me. Why didn't you tell me?"

He sits heavily at the end of the bed and takes the towel from around his neck, scrubbing ruthlessly at his wet curls.

"That's exactly why your hair gets so frizzy," you chide lightly, climbing on knees to his side. You ease the towel from his hands and are much kinder than he'd been, drying the skin before his hairline and behind his ears and then moving onto his pretty curls.

"He didn't do anything creepy, did he?" Eddie asks. He smells like toothpaste.

You laugh as you wring excess water from his hair as carefully as you can. "No. He was actually really sweet. Said all the right things. He was a gentleman," you drawl dropping the towel back to his shoulders.

"But?"

You sit back and smile at him. "I don't know. He leaned in for a kiss and I just… I got so nervous about it. He closed his eyes and I didn't think, I turned my cheek. He didn't call me for another date. Can't say I blame him."

You're not sure why you never told Eddie that story before. He tilts his head to one side and squints. "Why were you nervous? He was in marching band."

You snort. "It wasn't about him. I guess I was worried my first kiss would be awful."

He rubs the back of his neck with his towel. "First kiss, huh?" he asks.

"Right."

He pulls the towel away, holds it in his lap. You notice his rings are missing, likely still in the bathroom. "I mean, I think you did the right thing. If you weren't ready it can't hurt to wait. And first kisses, they can really suck. Mine, with fucking- fucking Darren Harmon, that sucked. He spit in my mouth so much I think I tasted his dinner from the night before."

You laugh in shock and disgust. "That's gross."

"Tell me about it."

"Why did he spit?"

Eddie brings his legs up onto the bed and his tone is gentle. "Well, when you kiss someone, there's like-" He raises his hands and drops them, lost for the right words. "You know, tongue."

"Is it weird?"

"Sure. Of course it is. But it's really fucking fun, too. Or it can be, if the spit is kept to a minimum." He purses his lips, eyebrows raised. "Actually, spit can be kinda nice if you like the person you're kissing. It's hard to explain."

You spread your legs to fall into a W-shape, hands braced on your knees. "Sorry, I'm not trying to harass you for details."

"You're my best friend. I'll tell you anything you want."

You smile at your legs.

Eddie reaches over to put his hand atop yours. He's leaning toward you, hair falling in his face as he catches your eye. "It's fine. Keep your first kiss for someone you actually like, babe. You'll like it better."

He squeezes your fingers and leaves the room. You can hear him filling a glass of water and turning off all the lights he's left on.

"Did you want anything else?" he asks, offering the glass.

"No, I'm just gonna brush my teeth really quick."

"Take your time."

You take a little bit more than you need to, staring at yourself in the bathroom mirror until your heart is pounding, thoughts coming a thousand a second. Lately, Eddie's touches – his hand around your wrist, his thigh over your thigh, even the thud of his rubber toed converse tapping yours – have become individual events in time. Even when you can't remember the conversation, you can remember his skin on yours. You look at photos from gigs and instead of thinking, Oh, that's the night we made fun of Gareth's new haircut, a truly momentous occasion, you think, That's the night Eddie tugged me by the belt loop. That's when he brushed an eyelash off of my cheek. That's when he leaned in so close I thought he was gonna kiss me.

Even now, the conversation about kisses is fading though you desperately want to remember what he'd said. The sound of his voice slips away. The heat of his fingers curled around yours remains.

You wash your hands twice and don't feel any better.

As if destiny or some higher power feels the need to taunt you, you slide into bed with an amicable handful of inches between your thigh and Eddie's and he totally ignores the gap, sidling up to you with a smile.

"You'll like this," he says, spreading the paperback in his hands open on your thigh. "'A pockmark of matter that can dissolve any light that threatens to eradicate, to nullify, to quantify. An indelible darkness, spreading from one universe to the other, the pristine pages of a tome sullied by a piercing fountain of ink,'" he reads to you, his voice smooth and unhurried. "Guess what she's talking about?"

"Dark matter?"

"What? Keep your astronomy to yourself, dork. She's talking about the Puppet's heart. How sick is that?"

You grin. It is pretty sick.

Eddie's smile grows with yours, though his lips part when he notices something on your face. "You have-" He brings his thumb to your mouth and brushes it roughly, tugging the soft pillow of your upper lip up.

You turn your face. "Jeez. Keep your hands to yourself, Munson."

"Sorry," he says, not sounding very sorry.

"You wanna read some more of your book to me?" you ask. "My eyes are tired."

You lay down flat with one of his pillows smushed under your head and Eddie reads, sitting with his back to the headboard. "'You turn the page and find the ink has eaten into the next page, and the next. The damage is expansive, Dolly says, lifting her chin. But not limitless. Eventually, a page will turn. Eventually, the page beneath remains plain.'"

"I thought Dolly and the Puppet loved each other," you murmur, watching his finger slide up the back of the book.

He gives you a knowing smile. "They did."

"Not anymore?"

"I don't know. He's not the same anymore. He really is evil," Eddie says. "'The Puppet becomes a man of flesh and bone before her, nothing like she had remembered and yet the same. His voice, slick as oil, becomes a malfeasance of sound where before it had been her most treasured melody. And if the tome were sullied to begin with? The Puppet asks. If the darkness subsisted where I only lay my hand?"

"They speak in riddles," you complain.

Eddie shushes you. "'Don't act as though you didn't bring about this war, Dolly says, her voice harsh as tree bark. The Puppet draws ever closer, his wicked grin softened. A puppet once more. I did it for you, he says.'"

You gasp so loudly it makes your throat burn. "He did not!" you whisper-shout.

Eddie chuckles, hand dropping to your shoulder. "He didn't."

"Keep reading!"

"'Dolly refuses to acknowledge his pleading tenor. You did not, she shouts. You created this conflict to become what you wanted to become.

"'Someone you could love. The Puppet places a frozen hand over her cheek. She hits at his chest with the brunt of her palms, hands growing limp as he murmurs. Someone you could kiss.'"

You miss the rest of his reading, eyes slamming shut as if you'd been stuck. You catch small parts. An attempted reunion, a sword tipped in biting silver from the coldest recess of the moon. A short fight, a retreat.

"Are you sleeping?" Eddie whispers.

You swallow. "Almost," you whisper back.

Eddie tosses the paperback onto his desk and pulls the covers over your shoulders and curls toward you. "You should get some rest, sweetheart. It's been a long day."

You nod and turn to him, refusing to open your eyes. "Goodnight," you say, rubbing your cheek against the brushed cotton of his pillowcase.

"Goodnight."

Long minutes of silence. You can feel his warmth beside you like a heating pad under the sheets. You know his hand lies an inch away, if that, his fingers lax. You could stroke the length of his pinky with yours.

As if he knows, as if he can read your mind, a fingertip reaches out to tap yours. "Are you okay?" he asks.

You open one tired eye and lift your face enough to open the other. He looks beautiful. Hair half-dried and flat to his cheek. You reach out to push it from his face slowly. If you were any braver you'd tuck it behind his ear, scratch his scalp lightly with your nails.

"Is it your arm?" he asks.

You drop your hand. "'M just thinking."

"I can't help with that," he jokes, turning his gaze to the ceiling.

You laugh under your breath but even to yourself it sounds odd.

"Do you think you'd ever kiss me?" you utter eventually.

He doesn't answer for a while. Your heart races fast enough that it's all you can hear, like the wind rushing in your ears.

"Is that what you want?"

"I want my first kiss to be a good one."

"And you think it would be, with me?"

"You said to keep it for someone I actually like."

He takes your wrist into a kind hand. Calluses slide over your skin. "I meant someone you have the hots for, babe."

Dangerous territory. Wary to admit anything else, you try to take his rejection with grace. "It's okay if you don't want to. Was just… wondering," you murmur.

He strokes your wrist. "I'll kiss you if you want me to."

"No, I-" You laugh, all nerves and too much blood. "I don't want a pity kiss, Eddie."

"Who said anything about pity?" he says, voice quiet as yours had been and harbouring much less panic.

He pulls your arm like he's encouraging you toward him and you hiss. His grip slackens. "Sorry, I should've-"

"It aches, that's all," you say.

Understanding lightens his eyes. Honey melting into a woody brown. "Shit," he mutters, lowering his head. "I'm sorry." He presses his lips to your wrist in a small kiss. "If it's hurting you should've said."

The words come out hot.

"It…" you drift off as he gives you another kiss. Another.

Close-lipped, Eddie dots pecks down your arm until he reaches the crook of your elbow. He slows and stays. You take the initiative and drop your hand into his hair, stroking behind his ear like you wanted to, like you've wanted to for a while, and shiver as the tip of his nose ghosts against sensitive skin.

He draws away, pulls up, his face much closer than you can remember it ever having been before. You try to breathe normally but the look on his face prompts breathlessness, his eyes steady, bordering impassive. His lips hint a soft bemusement.

He raises his chin. "This okay?"

"This," you repeat, fingers curling into his hair.

Eddie moves in, bringing a hand to your face to guide you to one side. His lips bump into yours and you let your eyes close, overwhelmed by this new feeling. There's a tenderness to how he holds you still, worse when he pulls you in, his kiss hot and soft as water.

He slides his fingertips under your sleeve, palm hot to the breadth of your upper arm. His grip tightens incrementally and you try not to pull his hair in response, your knee hitting his thighs as your body seeks him out.

His lips part against yours and you both suck in a breath before he's kissing again. You try your best to follow his lead, though quickly find yourself a laughing mess as he wraps his arm around your shoulder to pull you close.

"What's funny?" he asks.

You honestly don't know. It's a giddy feeling to be this close, more so when he smiles back and tries to start up another round of sweet kisses, his lips pressing to yours insistently. He caresses the length of your back until you sigh, your open mouth an invitation that he sinks into.

You scrunch the hem of his shirt in your hand when he sucks on your top lip, nonplussed.

Eddie pulls away. Your eyes open in tandem.

You're noticeably out of breath and he isn't unaffected, his chest rising and falling almost as quickly as yours. "So," he says, inhale a struggle though he tries to hide it, "how was that? A good one?"

"I don't know. I don't have anything to compare it to."

"No?" he asks, already leaning in for another.

You weave your hand into his hair and he rubs his hand down your arm until your aching wrist throbs under his fingertips, callused by metal strings and somehow impossibly soft.

"I'm sorry about your arm," he murmurs.

You hope your hum against his lips conveys your forgiveness.

When you've been kissed to the point of dizziness you break it to hide in the space under his chin, breathing in his new smells, his skin, his hair. The remnants of soap; a sharp citrus, mandora awash in something heady.

He pushes his arm under your chest and wraps you up. You hug him back, languid in his hold as he starts to rub your back. Broad, sweeping lines. Your shirt pulls up and he smooths it back down.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," you joke lightly, quickly chased by a big yawn.

"If you're tired, you can sleep," he assures you.

"It was a good kiss."

"Tell me all about it in the morning, okay? Sleep, pretty girl."

You're feeling more and more tired with each passing second. Fatigue hangs heavy and his wandering hands make it worse.

"'Nother kiss in the morning?" you ask, burrowing your face into his shoulder.

He takes a little while to answer, turning his lips down into your temple. "Y'always get what you want, don't you?"

With Eddie? Just about.

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thank you for reading! | my masterlist

if you enjoyed, please think about reblogging! I promise its a big help ♡

#eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic

19K notes · View notes

dollwrites · 5 months

Text

𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 — 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!student!reader, titty fucking ( busty!reader ), oral sex ( m!receiving ), facial ( gojo loves skincare!! ) noncon, little bit of manipulation, suggested age gap / power dynamic, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆 ∣ @tomatop [ thank you so much, i hope you like it! ]

“You look scared to death, baby girl.” Gojo was muttering with amusement as his long leg juts out behind him, kicking the door closed. it effectively traps you in the room with him, and at the same time, blocks out the dim light from the quiet hallway. your heart pounds heavy against your chest when darkness engulfs the room, and you reach out to flip the light switch, but his hand clapping around your wrist halts your movement, and your breath catches in your throat. “Don’t be. I’m not gonna eat ya.” you can feel the warmth of his body, and the wave of his breath against the shell of your ear, and you realize he’s right behind you. so close that the taunt muscles masked by his uniform bump against your shoulder blades. “Not until I’m done having my fun with you.”

a husky chuckle bubbles up from his throat, and you let out a nervous giggle, too. you’re not sure why you do that— maybe to ease the growing anxiety within you. but it embarrasses you how timid you sound when you murmur, “I don’t think we’re supposed to be in here—“

his hand careens upwards to grasp yours, guiding your delicate fingers to the light switch and flicking it. in a moment’s time, the room is flooded with the glow, and you realize you were staring down at your own feet. your bare knees peek out from underneath the navy skirt, tucked inwards towards one another.

“But, what better place to hold an exam than a quiet classroom?”

you turn to look over your shoulder at him, your perplexity getting the better of you. only, you hadn’t expected him to be so close. his blinding sapphires peeking out just enough from behind his sunglasses to make your heart skip a beat, and his cocky smirk inches from your face. “I— oh, I’m being tested??”

his smirk stretches wider, and he nods. “Mhm.” he answers simply, before taking a step closer to you. he would’ve knocked into you, had you not stumbled back just in time. “I wanna see just how badly you really want me as a mentor. Do you know what that means?” you shake your head, starting to take another step back when he swaggers closer, but this time, he reaches out as grasps your uniform top, stilling you in your tracks. your eyes widen, and flit downwards to see his slender digits creeping between the buttons, slithering like two, devious snakes, beneath the fabric. upon seeing your apprehension, as well as feeling your breasts heave with a heavy breath, Gojo chuckles again. “You gotta earn it, baby girl.”

as soon as the words left his lips, a shudder slipped down your spine, and he hooked his fingers against your blouse, anchoring them from the inside, and popping buttons as he wrenches it open to expose your chest to him. you were thankful for the durability of your bra where your uniform top had failed you, and the partially secured mounds ripple in response to his rough treatment of your garments. an inaudible gasp leaves your lips parted followed by a soft cry of protest, “W—wait..!” your face heating up with a furious blush, and Gojo elicits a soft, playful whistle.

“There we go. I’ve been waiting long enough to see what those tits looked like under that tight, little top you wear.” your new teacher snickers, allowing his middle finger to curl around the underwire of your lingerie, his knuckle nesting in your warm cleavage, and he uses that grip to pull you back to his body, sighing in content when you stumble, and your breasts smush against his chest. “Come a little bit closer, let me feel ‘em.”

both of his hands then envelop your clothed mounds, squeezing through the soft fabric of your lingerie to knead and grope at you, and he swoons at how easily your body squishes, how soft and warm your tits feel in his hands. even through your bra, you could tell he was enjoying it. the ever-growing lump in his dark trousers was beginning to prod at your bare thigh. you wince; his treatment growing increasingly more rough. you knew it was wrong, so you grasp his wrists in an attempt to pry his hands from you. but, Gojo merely ignores the gesture, and your silent protest.

“These feel good. Your little bra can hardly keep them contained, huh?” he snickers playfully, rubbing them in circles to hear the sounds you make. “So fucking soft,” Gojo whispers, more to himself than to you, and squeezes again, harder this time. when your breath catches in your throat, you elicit a quiet and almost pitiful squeak, and he suppressed a low growl. “They’re sensitive too, huh? Does it feel good, baby? Having your big, soft titties groped by your teacher?”

“No.” you lie, sheepishly. it was embarrassing, to say the very least, but you didn’t want to admit that deep down it felt good. it was so wrong. “Please, stop…”. the strength in his hands, and the way he grabbed handfuls, then groaned when your flesh attempts to spill out of their cups at his rough treatment. you look away, trying to ignore the humiliation of hearing yourself make such whiny mewls, but Gojo wouldn’t allow that.

“Look up at me, pretty girl. You know what I really want to do to these big, warm tits?”

your eyes flit back up to his countenance in a second. even the black lenses of his shades couldn’t completely mask the celestial glow of his glacier’s gaze, that drew your stare in as easily as a siren might send sailors to their death. “W—what?”

it didn’t even sound like your voice; you were completely and utterly entranced by Satoru Gojo.

he liked it.

a lot.

with a soft chuckle, his tongue swipes along his lower lip, before his voice drops to a low, husky octave. “Wanna see my cock sliding between them. Think you can do that for me, baby?” he doesn’t wait for you to answer; he gives you a little pat on the head, before tilting his own. “On your knees for me.”

you were hesitant, swallowing hard around the nervous lump in your throat, but he didn’t mind forcing you. one hand grasping your hair roughly at the roots, he guides you down, further and further, until you have no choice but to go to your knees to avoid the sting of your hair being pulled. “There you go, down, down, down. Just like that.”

“Ow,” you whine, just under your breath, and look up at him once you’re planted, your uniform skirt fluttering around your thighs. “You’re hurting me, Gojo-sensei…”

Gojo’s grin hadn’t left his face, not even for a second, and he uses the grip on your hair to tilt your head back so he can study your countenance with a soft hum. “If you’re a good girl for me, I won’t have to hurt you.” the flippant tone of his voice forced a chill up your spine as he continues, “But if you fight me, I will take what I want from you. And it will hurt. Think about that, pretty girl, while I fuck your tits.”

for a moment, you’re stunned, but you watch him fish inside his pants and pull his cock out, wrapping a powerful fist around it and pumping it roughly a couple of times. you stared at it, allowing your eyeline to trace every girthy, veiny, strong inch of him and you couldn’t help the involuntary gulp that you took, swallowing hard around the lump in your throat. it was one of the biggest dicks you’d ever seen.

“Like the view?” Gojo teased, but he smirked as he grasped the base and held the twitching muscle still for you to admire some more. “You can admit it. Makes you wet, doesn’t it?” you shake your head in denial again, and this time, clench your thighs together as you feel the telltale damp patch growing against your panties. electricity buzzed through your veins, anxiety over being so close to your teacher’s cock driving you insane. “You’re a bad liar, baby. I’ll have to treat your little pussy the next time, let her feel me slide in slow and fill you up. But first…” as he speaks, Gojo’s voice takes a lazy, sexy dip, and he pulls you by the wiring in your bra again, tugging it just far enough away from your body to slip his cock underneath, nesting it into your cleavage with a happy sigh. “If I don’t fuck those tits, I’m going to lose my mind. So, do me a favor, pretty girl…” Gojo’s hips rock forward, worming his cock between your tits until the plump, pink tip pokes out, inches from your glossy lips. “Stick out your tongue, and drool like a sweet, little slut.”

“Y—you can’t do this—“ you whined, “you can’t m—make me do this…”

but his grip on your hair jerked your mouth closer to the twitching, thick tip. your eyes widened. your mouth was already watering, almost uncontrollably, now that you could smell his musk— the arousal that clung to his cock, so all you had to do was stick your tongue out as instructed, and saliva drip, drip, dripped down on to the head of his dick. your eyes closed, but only for a minute, because a cruel tug at your roots reminds you where you are.

“Open up those pretty eyes, slut.” he demands, though his voice still sounds chillingly lighthearted. “Don’t want you pretending this isn’t happening. That wouldn’t be any fun at all.”

his hips had began to buck wildly; he fell into a quick greedy rhythm and started to moan. he was still smiling. his head rolled on his shoulders, but he kept his eyes, concealed by his glasses, on you, too. watching how you were jerked around by his tempo like a rag doll, and listening to the whimpers and whines of protest, gazing at the way his cock had smeared your spit between your breasts, creating a slick canal that he could pound into, as fervently as he would treat your cunt one day. “Fuck,” he hissed, grinding his teeth, and spread his feet wider, to plant himself more firmly. “Fuck, that’s it…” while one hand held loosely on to the middle of your bra, pulling you into a bobbing motion that complimented his rough thrusting, the other started to push down on the top of your head, his voice raspy with need.

“Suck the tip, baby. Take me in that pretty pout of yours.” as soon as your lips parted, creating a cushion for his sensitive tip to lay on as the rubbed himself off with your chest, he groans and nods, “There you go, pretty girl. Been thinking about how good your mouth would feel. Give me all those sweet kisses.”

you have no choice but to comply as he shoves your head down on him, moaning and sighing, panting against the cock tip as it plugs your mouth, muffling your noises. your palms flee to press against his abdomen trying to push him away, but your strength was still no match for his.

your eyelids fluttered as the raw flavor of Gojo Satoru coated your tongue, overtaking your mouth and claiming it in his name. his taste was intoxicating, and you were fighting an addiction already.

you had to remind yourself that you didn’t want this. you didn’t want him. but it was becoming increasingly harder to resist.

it was as if Gojo could read your internal struggle scribbled on your features, and he liked the idea of you hating him violating you so much, but being unable to stop it from turning your brain to mush. “You’re so cute,” he grunted, pushing your head down further, his fingers combing through your roots as he does so, “saying I can’t make you do this, but the more cock I feed you, the more your eyes start to glaze over. Do you know that? You can’t even help yourself; you’re gonna get addicted to it. I like watching you break. Gonna make me cum so quick, I’m almost embarrassed.” he was smirking, his playful nature evident, but you weren’t laughing.

Gojo’s grip tightens, both on your bra and your hair, and he drags you back and forth so fast that you worry you’ll get whiplash, using you like a toy to get himself off of.

“Going to paint you so pretty, hell-“ he cums only moments later; his jest about not lasting quite so long seeming to be only half a joke, and his fingers grope your hair at the root, pulling your mouth off of him just in time to shoot white streamers of warm release over your cheeks and across your forehead. you gasp, utterly humiliated by the way his sticky cum clings to your hair and cheeks. “There ya go… good girl.” he croons, pulling you by the hair once again to smear your mouth against his cock. you purse your lips, and the spunk still dribbling down coats them.

“You’re an obstinate, little thing.” Gojo moans, but he’s grinning from ear to ear. “I fucking love it. Gonna have way too much fun breaking you down, turning you into my personal slut. Forcing you to like it the more cock I make you take.” he takes a deep breath, rubbing his throbbing tip over the shape of your lips, and you suppress a happy squeak as you finally taste him. “Do you like your grade?” he teases, and when you merely glare up at him, he uses his grip on your hair to pull your head back just a bit. you can feel his cum clinging to your cheeks, and excess rolling into your hairline and dripping down your chin. his glasses slid down and you were staring into those hypnotizing eyes again. tasting, smelling, feeling him all over. your core throbbed— desperate for his attention, and you hated him for it. “Say ‘thank you for treating me like a pretty, little cumrag, Gojo-sensei’. Say it, and I’ll mentor you.”

begrudgingly, with your eyes shooting daggers up at him, you part your lips to speak. you didn’t want to, but you also wanted to be taught by the best of the best, and as despicable as he was, he was also the best. “Th—thank you, Gojo-sensei…” you cringed with each syllable, knowing that you were essentially giving in. knowing that now, he would do whatever he wanted to you, and you couldn’t say no. “For treating me like a pretty, little cumrag…”

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