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satoruhour · 8 months

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YES 2 HEAVEN

a/n: continuation of this. ARRRGHHH also i swear i couldve written this better i kinda hate this lol / tagging @jabamin @shotorus @hyomagiri @crysugu @valberry @lov3rbody ✶

wc: 4.1k (got carried away again ! lord help me)

warnings: dad!gojo, fem!reader, he is enamoured with you, dom!gojo, calls you ‘mama’, also like slight daddy kink, sex while pregnant, lactation kink, pregnancy kink, implied f! masturbation, oral / cunnilingus, fingering, clit stimulation, praise, pet names, spitting, mating press, multiple rounds, overstimulation, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, n*sfw under the cut

✶ dilf!gojo . . .

. . . who, when you were pregnant, could never get enough of your glow. sure, you’d look tired and worn out half the time but gojo thought you never looked better cradling your belly whilst you took your afternoon nap, or when you’d do some light chores around the house (you won over gojo trying to stop you). not to mention, your breasts were fuller and heavier with milk, soaking through your slip dresses often that he’s had to hide his hard-on more and more.

. . . who, on more than one occasion has had your tits caged within his hand: watching television, in naps, sex, he was unbelievably obsessed with the way the fabric around your nipples would leak and darken in colour. all he wanted was to knead them as he eats up your delicious moans, sucking hickies into your throat and holding your baby bump with his other hand. and then when satoru first peels the dress off of you, he whimpers, admiring the way your tits lactate and leak milk from its tip.

“s—satoru—” you’re sat sideways on his lap like the sweet girl you are and the first contact of his tongue around your nipple makes you let out a long moan. the sensitivity is all too much for you together with the heaviness of your belly and your hormones spiking and your husband simply smiles into your skin. he slurps at the liquid that drips from your tits, groaning into your breasts and the vibrations makes you clench your thighs together. it doesn’t go unnoticed by him when he’s got his hand between them, playing lazily with your clit and he presses a little harshly into your bundle of nerves and it draws such a beautiful cry and a spurt of your milk from your nipples right into his mouth. satoru cleans up well, noises similar to when he’d eat you out, “mmh… such perfect tits, mama, leaking so much milk just f’r me.” ✶

. . . whose hands look more rugged than he was young, fingertips a certain roughness to it from the boxes of the furniture of the nursery he’s carried to the training he still partakes in for young sorcerers. but they look especially pretty when he cuts up strawberries and bananas for your pancakes and later on, a teacup that barely makes its appearance in his hand from just how large he was in comparison to your baby girl’s tea set. your eyes also like to trail his hands as they skillfully weave your girl’s hair in a braid, hypnotised in which he uses his teeth to drag the hair tie to his fingers. satoru has a different opinion — he likes to see it on your belly when he wants to feel the baby kick and on your plush thighs when he’s teasing you, so close yet so far to your uncomfortable cunt.

. . . who uses your badly shaven job against you when his lips graze along your still full breasts and down to your torso. you can feel him drag the stubble against your inner thighs and it’s like he’s relishing in the way you squirm and thrash around on the bed, but the gojo below you is the culmination of multiple years of missions and caring for a baby girl. he looks so damn stunning between your legs as he usually does, except his features are more wrinkly and lenient and gentle, white strands turning just a little silver — it may just be the trick of the light.

but the way he eats you out has never changed — he’s already gone past making you beg for it. a hand on your inner thighs, caressing the skin and letting him do his damage, but it’s usually not long that gojo needs to hear you. “i heard you like this?” he laughs as he uses his teeth to pull at your underwear as he lifts your hips like you weigh nothing and his eyes are fixated on the way you’re leaking so much that there’s a string of arousal that connects your panties to your pussy. “’toru . .” you’re whining, grasping at nothing ’cause your belly was just too big. he finds your hand easily and twines your fingers. “yeah, angel?” with your legs propped up, he can appreciate the glory of your soaking pussy, and he thinks your tummy just looks divine, carrying a whole new life within it and still looking beautiful as ever. you preen when his mouth licks a stripe up your cunt and you can practically feel the stubble along your pussy lips. “mmh— was made to eat your pussy out, mama.” it’s no different from before. gojo eats you out with his skillful tongue, lapping at your folds and clit messily. you’re squeezing his hands at the intense sensations and he squeezes right back, other hand slowly drawing circles around your clenching, needy hole.

“look at ‘er,” gojo moans softly in awe as his finger parts your folds and he eases it in, your cunt automatically clamping down. you were right — they did feel rougher, bigger — it’s like you can feel the pads of his fingers and the lines on his digits. “so damn wettt . .” gradually he adds another and starts pumping them, moaning alongside you as your filthy husband nuzzles the bottom of his face into your sex and the prickle of his facial hair is so prominent — you just have to grind your hips onto his face. “careful of the baby, darling.” he lightly warns, fairly muffled, but he lets his little wife continue whatever she’s doing. “’toru, ’toru— needa c-cum . .” you’re whimpering, looking like a greek goddess as you’re dripping, dripping, all over satoru’s chin. “yeah? give it to daddy, baby, c’mon.” he moans into your clit, slurping up your juices mercilessly as his fingers reach so deep in you. “that’s right, that’s my girl— oooh fuckk . . . so much cum for me—” you’re cumming with a loud cry, plump thighs squeezing his head and he only presses his tongue deeper into your core as flood his tongue with your juices. he smacks his lips together and shoots you a smirk, “what a sweet thing my lil wife is — sweetest pussy too.” ✶

. . . who has to fuck you at least once while you’re pregnant, but he hadn’t imagined he would get so addicted to the look of your body rocking back and forth, so limp and pliant for him, especially with how he could easily do anything to you with how strong he was and yet you’re surrending everything up to him. satoru who has you in all sorts of positions where he can look at your supple breasts bounce as you cradle the baby in anxiety with one arm and the other is lining his back in red. and he hadn’t expected you’d be so horny too.

. . . whose dick you just can’t get enough of, pouncing on him once he’s gotten home from missions all sweaty and out of breath and your heart gets caught in your throat. guiding your hand to your little cunt when you wake in the morning to his toned chest and the look of soon-to-be-father looking so good on him. sending him little voice notes as you go on appointments by yourself (gojo hates himself for having a mission clash), but the contrast of your husband’s tear-filled apology before your needy audios is a stark contrast, fingers rubbing at your clit in the hospital toilet, unsatisfied. high-pitched whines whenever his cock would kiss your cervix juuust right and moaning how you want his cum in you, again

your husband throws his head back when he first sinks into you, but not before he slaps his cock along your folds, already soaking the sheets from the four times he’s made you cum. “f—fuck, so warm in here, baby.” gojo presses your hands to his lips and lays multiple kisses along it, even licking at your fingers and keeping his eyes locked on you while plunging them into your mouth. the gesture is sensual, hips rocking into you while his tongue glides over your fingers; he brings it to your clit after, helping you and satoru hopes he wouldn’t cum too early. especially when your hair is all splayed out with that glow along your cheeks. the position accentuate the curves of your body and your swelling stomach, and fuck, if he could paint, the image of your anatomy would be burned into his brain. “s’full, daddy.” he simply caresses your sore belly, “yeah? is it now?” he’s buried all the way to the hilt and the deepness sends a chill up your spine, “takin’ me like the good girl you are.”

“satoru, satoru, mmhhfuck,” your hands are holding into his forearms so tightly as he rocks into you, legs wrapped around his waist to trap him with your pussy and you truly wish your baby bump would be bigger so you didn’t have to look at your husband’s fucked out face and sweaty locks, grunts leaving his mouth as he continues to fuck into you with firm, solid thrusts. “w-what is it, sweeth— s-shit, this pussy’s too fuckin’ good.” you mewl at the words, staring up at him through hooded lids and a lax jaw. “tell me what— fuucck— you want, baby,” your words are beyond comprehensible, so you only can moan louder and babble over and over again, “cum— wan’ your cum, wan’ your cum, ’toru!” and gojo has a full blown aneurysm at the way you beg even when you were already knocked up. gojo’s breath and hips stutter at the way you hold onto his arm and plead, cumming straight into the warmth of your cunt with a loud groan. “don’t know how much i love your cunt, sweets.” ✶

. . . who, once you give birth to your baby girl, has never stopped thirsting over you, but he’s a little more considerate in letting your body rest. most of the time he’s pleasuring you just as you were with your baby bump, always the quickest to stand up and run to the nursery when he’d hear the baby’s cries or pass off him being between your legs as just wrestling as your darling girl gets another terrible nightmare. satoru has put you first, always, but lately the chivalrous acts that he’s been doing is landing you in a position of a dilemma — between decorum of a mother and the filthiness of a wife whose husband is just too hot.

. . . who stands out to you more with his new found love for tight black shirts and low riding sweatpants, always prancing around the penthouse with it glued to his body and accentuates just the best parts of his body. you weren’t sure if it was the post pregnancy hormones doing its job or whatever, but there are many times where you can see yourself staring a little too much: on movie nights when he manspreads and adjust his hips, one hand tucked behind the sofa and you can see the muscles in his arm moving. all gojo asks is “take a picture. it’ll last longer, baby,” and you just roll your eyes, but not before one more glance to his inviting lap. when it’s the morning and you’re already up tending to the baby, bouncing her around and breastfeeding her before your head snaps to the low, raspy greeting and you’re blessed with satoru and his arm up on the doorframe, watching you. he’s yawning and scratching at his torso while the sweatpants ride low, showing a peek of his v-line and happy trail. he’s giving you the sweetest, yet somehow sexiest smile as he saunters up to you, surrounded by his toned body and strong arms.

. . . who knows what he’s doing when he sees your distracted stares to the point your baby girl has to drag your hand full of food to her mouth; or in times of sleepiness in the dawn where all he wears are boxers and he has the gift of hearing your not so quiet gasp when you see him emerge from the bathroom after his morning skincare. what really seals the deal though, is the day you had a reunion with the students of jujutsu high, a nice little picnic out near tokiwa bridge and gojo just had to show his girls off — what was meant to be a wholesome day turned into thoughts of your husband’s physique as he challenges nanami to a “carry-off”, the still stoic sorcerer not even bothering to participate as gojo swoops you both into his arms. your daughter on his right and you on his left, and you’re scrambling to grab his shoulder. it sinks into you like an anchor: just how fit he was, the lines of his tense arm, the cheeky wink he sends to you while you’re up there. you only hope he can’t feel your pussy throb from that.

“you alright, darling?” your baby’s asleep comfortably on your chest, and your eyes can only burn holes into the hand that’s resting on your thigh, swallowing before facing your husband who only seemed to get hotter the more he ages. when you turn to him he’s already looking at you, a lopsided smile on his face before he breaks eye contact and steps on the gas when the traffic light turns green, letting out a loaded exhale when you grab his hand and twine your fingers.

that two person carry has been etched onto your mind long after you’ve reached the penthouse along with everything that’s been going on, but you’re interrupted when satoru squeezes your hand, pulling you into his embrace while keeping your darling girl asleep. he’s skilled at that, as he is with his lips, pressing a deep kiss to your mouth. you can feel your stomach turn with anticipation, tasting his gloss as he whispers “should we order takeout tonight?”

you hum, “i can cook, ’toru.”

his hands feel hot on your waist, “rest today, baby. we did spend a whole day in the hot sun,” they draw circles on your lower back, “plus, we have that event tomorrow, don’t wanna tire you out.”

“the event’s at night you goof,” you laugh, a slow hand stroking your daughter’s hair. stark white and striking as always.

“still.” he grins and winks like there’s some ulterior motive, leaning in to kiss you again before your girl rouses and yawns.

“good morning, my love.” satoru coos as she finds her bearings, looking around in confusion and only being able to focus on her father’s hand on her hair.

“na-na-min?” the awkward plea in her voice would drive gojo to burn the world down, to call nanami right now to meet up again, but he knows all that would only warrant annoyance. he could call yuji, but he did mention something about having dinner with his partner tonight.

gojo feels bad to be breaking her heart like this, “no, darling, ’m sorry.” his heart breaks even more when she breaks into a slight cry and he attempts to quell her sobs by baby-talking her.

“c’mon, why don’t you let papa carry you, and mama can head off to take care of herself, hm?” he suggests with a big grin, mood changing instantly as he plucks her out of your arms, again emphasising his strong arms when they hold her on one side and curl another around you. “go clean up first. i’ll settle dinner for her.”

but the shower seemed to be a bad idea at the time, emerging from the steamy bathroom to see your husband with his shirt off and the baby already all cleaned up and fed. she was swaddled in her most comfortable blanket, the fabric of it peeping out from the side as your eyes focus on the rippling muscles of gojo’s back. he bounces the baby gently as he burps her, muttering little praises and sounds.

“oh, baby—” he catches sight of you in the doorway in a towel and he only smiles, not knowing how you were trying to digest just how broad his shoulders were and how small his waist was. had he always been so fine?

“heard about skin to skin contact with your baby,” he whispers, “says it increases our bond.”

and if you could, you’d drag him back to the chapel all over again to renew your vows, because you didn’t expect him to be such a sap. you also didn’t expect him to read you so well. the baby’s asleep and it’s well past midnight, masking yet another shaky sigh when your body sinks more into his side.

“satoru—”

“yeeess . .?”

you stand up with vigour you didn’t think you have, plopping yourself down onto his lap and all he does is smile slyly. the way his bare body moves as he leans back is enough drive for you to shut him up.

“haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

“oh? you have a crush on me?”

so infuriating as always. you roll your eyes and grind down on him, igniting such a familiar and archaic feeling that you haven’t felt in a long time: his bulge against you, the soft groan he lets out. he’s always been treating you time and time, and yet he puts his own needs on hold. a perfect husband like him waited only for you to initiate things, and yet you wonder why it took you so long. maybe it was the baby taking up most of your time, maybe it was him being on missions and coming home dead-beat tired.

maybe you knew you’d never turn back if you indulged yourself — pushing out a whole baby wasn’t exactly easy. but you’ve missed him. on you, in you.

“we’re married, you dumbass.”

“still in disbelief, my bad.” gojo laughs, “is there anything you wanna tell me?”

you sigh, pulling him to you so your foreheads would touch. you breathe onto his lips — “please take care of me.”

oh, gojo satoru did take care of you and more, burying his face between your legs and making you cum over and over. he made your voice hoarse and your thighs ache, juices soaking the sheets from just how wet you were.

“oh, you needed this, huh?”

“shut up.” gojo moans when you push him back onto your cunt, already having orgasmed thrice just from his tongue. he was skillful and he knew it, just as much as he knew just how tight you’d be when he smeared your cum all over your pussy and pushed past your folds. satoru whines at the tightness, at having missed your cunt wrapped around him for so long that he can tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.

“f—fuck . . so fuckin’ good, s’tight . .” you’re not that well off, either, thinking the shower was a waste of water as your sweaty stomach heaved in anticipation while he bottomed out. gojo cries out in a choked moan, “you feel so g—good, mama.”

“w-who’s needing it now?” you breathe out, fingers digging into his shoulders so harshly it hurt. you catch a glimpse of satoru’s smile and a shake of his head — you’d need to be carried tomorrow, for sure.

he pulls out and slams back in so accurately you let out a loud moan, insides turning to mush after so long. the feel of him filling you up is like none other, pussy gripping onto him like a vice. you can’t remember the last time you let him take you.

“so p-perfect for me—” gojo rasps out, looking at you drunkenly. the mother of his child, his wife, it weighs on him and he just thinks he needs to fuck you until you know how much joy you bring to his life. your body rocks as your lover fucks into you, hovering over your body and looking so ethereal. his hair falls into his eyes that you just have to pull him down, crashing your lips against his. the moans he lets out against your face is lovely and you can feel his cock twitch as your legs wrap around his waist.

“‘toru— shiiitt . .” your back arches off of the bed, body caving into satoru like second nature. he lets out babbles against your lips, room filled with the sounds of his balls slamming into your ass, coupled with your weeping pussy, coating his length with all that you can give to him. “so deep—”

“that’s ’cause you’re suckin’ me in, baby—” he laughs breathlessly, cutting off your answer with another kiss, feeling the brush of pelvic bone against your clit. it’s all you need to cum hard, still sensitive after so long and your pussy clenches around gojo’s shaft even tighter; it gets gojo whining into the kiss before he reaches his high too, spilling into you with wide eyes and stuttering hips. you moan at the sensation, eyes pleading your husband for more, more, more.

“forgot how much i loved doing that, f-fuck—” gojo hums as he removes your legs from his waist, pushing you into a deep mating press and you squeal when you feel his cock barely hit your g-spot in this new position, “yeah? ya feel that?”

you nod mindlessly, hands now holding onto his forearms before his hips start moving again and you’re left to whining like a slut. your thighs dig into your chest as gojo folds your body in half, rutting into you messily. there’s so much cum, mixed in filthily as your words only descend into incoherence.

“yes, yes, yes!” are all you can manage as gojo grunts from above you: his stubble, his broad shoulders, his matured face, they all look beautiful in the cold night. he’s so focused on the way your cunt sucks him in, hips stammering when your hand comes into view to rub your clit. “give it all t’me, daddy.”

there’s a small growl that leaves his lips at that, pace reaching an animalistic one as he angles his hips. “open y’mouth.”

satoru is driven crazy when you obey silently, and he has to push deeper into you to reach your mouth, making you falter and pull your brows together — you recover fast enough to catch the spit hanging from his mouth, dribbling slowly into your mouth even when gojo’s hips never stop their assault.

“attagirl,” he praises, smiling softly at the way your pussy twitched at that. he knows you’re close by the look in your eyes, grasping aimlessly at his shoulders.

“gonna let me cum in you again? hm?” gojo’s thrusts are sloppy now, fuelled by the squelch of your drooling cunt, “gonna let daddy put another baby in you?”

you mewl at that, “wan’ that— want all of it—” intoxicated on his cock, they hit the deepest parts of you; you know and love the way his tip hits your sweet spot, you know and love the way the shaved pubes of his pelvis brush up against your clit so well.

“take it then—” gojo grunts, holding your legs up and meets your eyes and the simple call of his name has him shivering. he cums deep, shooting his load so white and hot in you that you’re moaning loudly at the feeling, hand on your clit increasing in pace before your fifth for the night, legs trembling in his grip and your mouth falls open in a silent scream.

gojo thinks you’re god. “that’s it— shit, take all of my cum, mama.” you can barely see blue, rather seeing spots of white that fill your vision and you get dizzy and overstimulated, groaning finally when he removes his cock from you. so much cum spills out, pussy pushing it out and satoru bites his lips at the sight.

but you both know you’re far from done when gojo lies on his back, ulterior motive fulfilled when he sees you climb on top of him and drag your pussy along the base of his dick. with you like this, stretch marks and plumpier breasts, you still look as beautiful as you did before the baby, letting you interlock your fingers with his.

your mouth falls open in a soft “satoru” as you sink down onto his still hard, leaking cock and he never wants to look at anyone else ever again, lest he misses even one second of witnessing a goddess like you at work.

gojo cannot resist sitting up to meet you halfway in a soft kiss (“thank you, ’toru. you always take care of me so well.”) and it gives him all the confirmation he needs when your hips first move and the moans and the lewd sounds of your cunt sound more heavenly than all the choirs in the world.

“it’s what you deserve, baby. only the best.”

#I WROTE SM BYE #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk scenarios #jjk gojo #jjk gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojou satoru smut #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader

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yndrgrl · 28 days

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you + katsuki bakugo's relationship dynamic <3

fluff. cute lil drabble. established relationship. ooc! bakugo. any au you want ig haha. gn! reader.

warnings: innuendos but nothing crazy

a/n: another drabble before i drop a long, hardcore mafia boss! dabi x spy! reader smut 👀

before bakugo found you, his friends pictured him dating someone dainty, soft-spoken, & just all around quiet. however, when you came into the picture, your dynamic just made so much sense.

the two of you clicked & meshed so well together. you were outgoing, kind yet snappy, & you were just glowing whenever you were with katsuki.

your friends were worried when you first got with katsuki, knowing you. you were the type to take no bullshit from anyone, not afraid of conflict, & you were just so headstrong.

what shocked everyone the most is how katsuki change when with you. we all know katsuki; if you look at the guy wrong, he'd punch the look off your face before you could even blink. he was always yelling profanity at someone with a seemingly permanent scowl on his face. the nicknames he gave people were less than savory.

but with you? you could say whatever you wanted, you could act like a princess brat & he would just dote on you. it was your way, or the highway. katsuki would go to the ends of the universe for you-- even if you just wanted a cup of tea. no mean names for you (unless under the shirts), you were his darling, his love. how could he not worship you? you're just so perfect.

he's just so happy to be in your presence, it was as clear as day. he would never say it out loud (unless you batted your pretty eyes at him, of course), but he just relished in your beauty.

loving katsuki is the easiest you've ever gotten the pleasure to experience. people say that he would start fights then never back down. it was quite the opposite, though. he would tease you because you were just so cute all huffy & puffy, but once you started to get actually upset, he would immediately deescalate the situation. profuse apologizes would flow out of his mouth, butterfly kisses up your arm, & if you were truly mad, he would look so hurt.

your fights were rare & far in between. honestly, there wasn't much to fight about because he would avoid them like the plague. you didn't like when he did something? he literally unlearns it on the spot. you didn't like he wasn't doing something? he would immediately jump into action, mentally burning it into his brain.

he didn't want to lose you. you were an angel amongst a dirty sea of sinners, & he was your ever-so-willing worshipper.

he loves that he gets the privilege of seeing your sweet side. you give the world your rough exterior with glimpses into your true self. however, when with him, you can let go of the facade. there was a never ending flow of compliments coming out of his mouth.

"darlin', you're just too sweet for me." "god, i can't believe i'm the lucky one who gets to praise you." "(y/n), you're just so mmm."

life with him got comfortable, never boring. you had your routines. on monday, you'd call at 9 p.m. until midnight. on fridays, you'd get off of work at 6 p.m., & he'd already be outside of your house, waiting to pick you up for a date.

"oh, how i adore you, (y/n)."

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fettuccin-e · 5 months

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Can't Help Myself

Kinktober Day 28: Intercrural Sex

Tags: Joel Miller x Reader, afab!fem!reader, Jackson!Joel, thigh fucking, that's right no penetration actually occurs, corruption kink, kind of innocent!reader, big dick Joel is back in town (w/c: 1.5K)

A/N: Alrighty! So this is something I started writing during Kinktober and I finally decided to just finish it, even though I did not completely finish Kinktober but whatevs. So here's a little mid-November porn for everyone hahaha

He can’t fuck you. Not right now, not fucking ever if he has anything to say about it. This has gone too far already, this ridiculous infatuation you’ve both developed.

No, for Joel, it’s become a downright obsession.

He should have said no the first time you pulled him into your home, into your bed. You’re too pretty, too innocent for him. You whine so pretty into his mouth whenever he kisses you, choke on your moans and cry whenever he pushes his fingers deep into your pussy in the dark of your bedroom, away from prying eyes and the endless rumor-mill of Jackson.

He should have said no the moment you pulled him to your lips, before any of this had gone too far for Joel to look back.

Ellie says that he’s stubborn as a mule, Tommy tells him that making small talk with him is like talking to a brick wall. Joel has known for a long time that he can be scary as all hell, not backing down for a damn thing and definitely not taking any shit from anybody.

Except for you.

For you, Joel is a weak, weak man.

Weak to your soft skin, weak to the way you writhe beneath him. He can’t help himself when he lays you out on your bed, strips you bare for him, tracing his thick, calloused hands over your body and watching you shiver with it.

God, you’re sensitive. You keen when he thumbs over your stiff nipples, gasp when he presses them through the seam of your cunt, gliding up, up until he can trace them around your needy clit and watch you squirm.

He’s broken so many rules already, so many times. He can’t help it, not when you taste so fucking good with his head between your thighs. Can’t help but fuck his fingers into you so brutally when you ask, relishing in the way you scream when his fingers grind up into that little spot so deep inside of you.

But he won’t fuck you. He won’t, he can’t, go that far, desecrate you even further than he already has. He’s done so much, let you have him every other way that counts, but fuck, he can’t bring himself to finally cross that last little barrier between the both of you.

Even as you beg and plead beneath him so pretty, even as his cock aches between his thighs, your cunt gushing around his fingers. He can’t do it.

“Fuck me, please, please, let me try, c’mon Joel, please,” you breathe beneath him, your chest heaving as he works his fingers into you. “It’d feel so good, please, need it so bad.”

Joel feels lightheaded, the sound of your voice and the obscene sounds of your pussy sucking in his fingers echoing in his ears.

“Darlin’,” he murmurs, “Doesn’t it feel good like this?”

“Wanna make you feel good,” you say, “Wanna feel you inside.”

“Sweetheart,” Joel groans like he’s been punched. Nobody affects him like this, nobody except you, and fuck, the change is intoxicating.

“Fuckin’ needy,” he mutters, but he knows it’s the exact opposite, even if he’ll never admit it. You’ve got to be some kind of fuckin’ siren, and Joel can’t help but succumb to your every whim.

He reaches his free hand between his legs to grip the base of his cock, pulsing and hot in his hand, desperate to feel you. He can’t help it, he has to fuck you, has to feel the hot clutch of your pussy around his cock finally, after fuckin’ weeks. Rules, reputation be damned, he has to-

The thought creeps into his mind nearly too late.

There’s a tincture that the Jackson apothecary sells, some kind of natural birth control that plenty of the ladies around town use to prevent bringing children into this fucked up new world. There aren’t any condoms, any other type of birth control.

And fuck, Joel knows that you haven’t taken it. Knows his own weakness; that if he sinks himself inside of you just like he wants, he won’t be able to stop until he’s pumped into you so fucking deep, filled you up with cum and owned you in the most primal way he knows how.

“Can’t,” he chokes, and pulls the leaking tip of his cock away from where it was so close to your gaping entrance. “Don’t wanna risk it.”

The way you whine in protest has his head spinning, has his hips bucking forward to slide the throbbing length of his cock through your folds. The head of it bumps against your swollen clit, and you gasp sharply, your hands flying up to dig your nails into his shoulders.

“Oh, pretty girl,” he can’t help the grin that creeps across his face as you gaze up at him, your bottom lip between your teeth. “Did you like that?”

You shut your eyes at the question, so Joel pulls his hips back just to fuck upwards again through the seam of your slick cunt, sliding into your clit again. You moan, loud and whiny and desperate, and it makes Joel want to fuck you so hard you see stars.

Instead, he pulls back, pulling your thighs up between you both, practically folding you in half, his cock pushed between the soft skin of your thighs and the hot wetness of your pussy. God, it’s fucking tight between these perfect thighs, fucking soft and soaked with how much you need him.

“Can I fuck you here, baby?” he murmurs, and you nod feverishly, whining high in the back of your throat.

“Please,” you whisper, and Joel is too desperate to tease you anymore.

He fucks between your thighs like he’d fuck you for real if he could, brutal thrusts of his hips that have the head of his cock jamming into your puffy clit. You’re fucking gorgeous to see, to hear, moaning like it’s the best you’ve ever fucking had.

Fuck, it might me the best Joel has ever had, the soft, slick skin of your cunt and thighs pressing around him so tight, so perfect. It’s fucking maddening to watch as his cock parts the lips of your pussy around it, so fucking thick compared to your tiny entrance.

“You want me in here, honey?” he murmurs, pressing his hand into your lower stomach as he shoves between your thighs. “Want me to fill this pretty pussy up?”

“Fuck-” you choke on your own spit as he grinds his cock up into your abused, sensitive clit. “Please, please, need it so bad. ‘M so fucking empty, Joel.”

Joel groans, his head dropping as he tries to gain some sense of control again, but God, it’s fucking warm and tight and you’re so pretty begging for his cock.

“Gonna get you that stuff from the apothecary in the mornin’ baby, ‘n I swear I fill this cunt up just like you need,” he growls, and you moan so loud, so needy beneath him. “It’s gonna stretch you so wide, fuck, you’ll be all stretched out for me, nobody can fuck you like I can.”

“Yours, yours, yours,” you gasp, hips twitching with the orgasm building in your stomach, threatening to throw you off that peak.

“I’ll fuckin’ fill this cunt up with my cum over and over again, sweet girl. You’ll be fuckin’ dripping with me.”

You gasp, your eyes clenching shut and your mouth gaping open in shocked, overwhelmed pleasure as his words send you over the edge. You cunt clenches around nothing, painfully empty as Joel fucks between your thighs. Your clit feels fucking raw, overstimulated and so sensitive as Joel abuses it with his thick cock.

“Fuck, that’s it baby, that’s my good girl,” Joel says, his hips jamming forward again and again and again. Your thighs clench tighter together with your orgasm, the pressure so perfect and warm and soft around his cock that Joel can't help but follow close behind.

He grips your thighs so tight the tips of his fingers go bright white as he splatters cum all over the outside of your pussy.

The image makes him fucking lightheaded, the sight of you painted white. A sick sense of ownership floods through him, a sign that he’s in too fuckin’ deep.

And then, you gaze up at him, and giggle.

You giggle like he hadn’t just ruined you, like he hasn’t been ruining you for months. You giggle like pure sunshine beneath him, and God, Joel’s once cold, dead heart flutters at the sound.

He’s in way too deep. Too deep to ever go back, fuck, he’ll die before he goes back to a time he didn’t know you.

“C’mon, sweetheart, let’s get you cleaned up,” he says, pulling himself off of you, only for you to rise up with him, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck. You pull him into a kiss that is far too filthy for a sweet little thing like you.

“Why get cleaned up if we’re just going to get dirty again?” you whisper against his lips, and Joel grins in spite of himself.

“Got plans for me, darlin’?”

“More than you’ll ever know,” you say, and Joel can’t help but press you back down into the mattress, licking into your mouth until you fuckin’ melt beneath him.

#back on my corruption bullshit #i believe in dirty old man Joel supremacy #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fic #the last of us fanfiction #tlou smut #tlou fic

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finalgirllx · 3 months

Text

mattheo riddle hair headcanons

as a self-identified curly hair enjoyer, i can confirm that mattheo's hair is a big part of what lured me in at first. so i wanted to do a little spotlight for it.

nsfw content | minors dni

mattheo riddle has delightfully unruly, curly black hair that transforms into a warm chocolate brown when exposed to the sunlight.

most often, mattheo couldn't care less about how it's styled. he finds himself in so many chaotic situations that it's no wonder he doesn't take the time to pay attention to how his hair looks.

usually, this nonexistent hair routine works like magic. his fluffy curls fall effortlessly into place which only adds to his attractiveness. even when it does run more on the wild side, it fits his energy much better.

whenever it gets too rampant, you relish the opportunity to fix it, meaning you get to run your hands through and internally geek out over how effortlessly soft it is as you untangle his locks.

mattheo doesn't like being touched. that is, by anyone besides you. as repelled as he may be by physical contact with others, the way he relaxes and finds it soothing when you take over and style his hair reveals that physical touch is, indeed, his love language when it comes from the right person.

despite initial attempts to blow off your help to 'seem cool', insisting that you need not mess with his hair, he always relents and secretly loves the sensation of you adusting the 'out of place' pieces.

mattheo is also aware of much you enjoy doing it, sometimes tousling it before you come over. he can't wipe the triumphant smirk off his face fast enough when you question how he managed to mess it up so quickly, just waiting for you to seat yourself behind him and fall into what has become a routine.

yes, you still like him when he gets his hair cut- a measure of true love indeed. but it is when it gets longer that it hits that sweet spot for you, and the struggle not to constantly pounce on mattheo while at that sexy length takes your every ounce of willpower.

he does not like the mullet look on himself, but you absolutely love it. he will endure it when it gets to that point for a few days just to see you happy.

mattheo lets you grasp his hair during sex, especially to hold on for dear life when he goes down on you.

however, mattheo hates when you tug it. more often than not, if you take it too far, he will let out a low growl and warn you that he won't let you finish if you pull a stunt like that again.

he has never followed through before; he loves going down on you too much. but the fear it strikes in you works as a fun little tease that helps you both make it over the edge.

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle headcanons #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle imagine #slytherin #slytherin boys

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chiliyue-archived · 8 months

Text

physical affection

includes; dazai, chūya, ranpo, atsushi

tags; these get just slightly suggestive (but its nothing too much).headcanons + some drabbles & shorts. these r longer than it should be - I got so carried away

I just woke up so if u find mistakes pls let me know :) I'm posting this before I come up with an excuse to delete it altogether

—DAZAI

handsy - that's really the only descriptor you need.

honestly, everyone knows you're his partner with how he acts around you; hand on your thigh, waist, shoulder. having to kindly smack him on the back of his head when his hands trailed a little too far-

^ only for him to send you a pout and doe like eyes that fade when you indulge him a kiss. he has zero shame (often at the expense of receiving a sneer from kunikida who had the misfortune of witnessing sometimes. even then, he didn't stop kissing you)

favorite spot is the inside of your palms and knuckles - with a lingering yield on your pulse point. if you ever kiss those areas on him, he'll have cartoon hearts around him & everything

holding his face though? call him your pretty boy or literally anything sappy and he thinks he might just die on the spot.

on the flip side he's also… a bit of a bitch.

traces your bottom lip tauntingly with his thumb, the other is cupping your head to keep your gaze on him. he maintains keen eye contact and relishes in the way you crack while he remains steady.

his mouth is so close that when he speaks, you could feel it vibrate against your lips. but he never closes the distance, he makes you do that instead for teasing benefits :/(if you're shorter than him, it's so over)

revoke his kissing rights and he trails like a lost puppy behind you. " just one, bella?" he whines when you maneuver your head away. it's cute seeing him get all pouty - not so much when his patience runs thin and he takes matters into his own hands

-> caging you in his physique and kissing you hard. fingers calloused are rubbing against your jaw or brushing past your ear to interlock, teasing the surface of the skin as he does so. he enjoys the tremors and shivers it elicits, such reactions becoming burned in the back of his head.

you could barely make a sound with the vigor he expresses his cravings in with your bottom lip becoming captured between his canines

contrary to his theatrical displays, however, i also believe he exhibits a softened demeanor when cherishing you proper (soft dazai agenda)

the tempo of his kisses are slow yet not in accordance with his teasing. while the meandering of his hands grows greedy, when he speaks his voice is reduced to a low whisper, mumbling sweet phrases with each kiss.

✿

dazai wants to blame the bottom of sake for his vermillion flushed cheeks. more alarmingly, he wanted to ignore the way his heart squeezed when you reciprocated the kiss.

" darling," he pulls away, studying your expression. your hair was tousled, a swell blooming on your bottom lip from his recurrent nibbling and ministrations. the moment wasn't perfect, but he could bask in it for a lifetime. " are you getting sleepy?"

the pretty brown eyes you met were half-lidded and blinking. his bangs traced along your forehead from where he hovered, and if you squint, perhaps you would have noticed how the pink of his cheeks deepened the tiniest bit when you laughed at the tickling sensation.

you murmur something intelligible, the words swallowed by his mouth; he shivers when the syllables reverbate against him and the hand at your hip falters slightly. when he reels back, he remains close enough for his forehead to brush yours.

" repeat that, love."

" i said," you mumble, kissing the corner of his mouth. " can we to stay like this forever?"

almost instantaneously his body shakes in anticipation, heart lurching at the sincerity; how can you be so honest to a known liar like him? he slowly nods, his body arching until your chests were touching and breath pricked at your cheek. ever greedily, he seeks out another exchange, this one careful with a lingering touch of desperation.

an "okay" became lost as he gingerly grabs your chin, angling it just the tiniest bit to deepen it. in between the withdrawals and recoil, dazai chooses to ignore the way his breath stills in the pinnacle of moment, made potent when he twines his hand with yours. he provides the appendage a firm squeeze in coordination with the stirring in his chest, your inhales and exhales becoming synchronized.

he can't lie, he's been thinking just as much.

✿

dazai also likes your hands. chances are his are bigger than yours and he finds himself comparing hand sizes with you. his eyes crinkle when your fingers are dwarfed by his.

adjoined limbs are swayed back and forth when you walk together. same applies with intertwined legs, but when he's not busy doing that, he's playing footsie beneath the table.

he needs to be with you whenever he can!! the spot across your table remains permanently empty as he makes a home of sitting as close as possible next to you instead

he can't even be embarrassed with overly sappy displays, not when he's loving it twice as much. " good morning, osamu," you once said, palms cupping his face. he doesn't know if something has ever made his heartbeat spiked as hard as that did. " can I have a kiss?"

if he didn't turn to putty from the request alone, then it was the way you circled your thumbs on his cheekbones when he brushes his lips to yours. tentatively, he curls his hands behind your waist, holding you close before you get too far.

" can i have some more?" his eyes are shimmering in mischief as ever but his skin has progressively grown warmer since you've found him.

dazai is cuddly. getting to hold you close and listen to your heartbeat? yeah, he could die happy right now

unsurprisingly, napping with him is among his favorite passing time activities.

the closest you may get to see a vulnerable side to him is if you card your fingers through his hair. admittedly, he finds it troubling how his built-up walls crumble so easily with a couple of strokes. but the only thing he can focus on now is the sensation of fingers devoid of pain carefully tend through his hair and how warm his chest feels

kisses on the forehead when you're in need of comfort ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

✿

" i'm right here, love." when you glance up at him with red eyes and puffy cheeks he could feel his heart break right into two. even more so when your voice cracks and he tries to hide the way his face drops when it echoes in the somber ambience.

attentively, he cups your cheeks as his lips apply delicate pressure against your forehead. he sighs when he feels your trembling hands subdue and your breathing regulate; its panning against his skin rivaled any other comfort he could ever receive.

" better?" when you nod, he could feel his grin return, just a bit weaker. " today has been hard on you. get some rest."

" can you stay with me?" he already knew the answer in his head but it still makes chest swarm tremendously.

he gives your hand a gentle squeeze, lips brushing your forehead again. " of course."

he wasn't the one needing comfort and yet he still felt a deep-rooted tingle right in his chest when you hugged him closer than usual. he depised the circumstances behind it, but he couldn't deny the way it made his barren chest feel less akin to a husk when you felt so secured against him.

his hands start to comb shrough your hair, watching as the strands bend between his fingers and he ensures to provide your scalp proper attention now and again.

he wasn't sure if he'll be able to sleep, he was more concerned in making sure you did.

he blinks when you move to press your cheek against his chest, right where his heart should be. " thank you," your words were muffled against clothes, sending vibrations along his bones.

" you don't have to thank me." he places a last kiss to your forehead, the longest one of the night. his legs shift to intertwine with yours, listening keenly to the sound of your breath until it slows into an assuaging rhythm.

dazai can't recall the last time he had to take care of someone. it's made apparent as he grapples with uncertainty - almost becoming overwhelming with how powerless he felt in the situation.

though tonight, he was sure to hold you a little tighter.

✿

likewise if you kiss his scars and the skin beneath the bandages, he could feel the breath in his throat still and his heart do cartwheels. it's been so void of human touch for so long and he appreciates the care you exhibit towards something he considers to be ugly.

" all better now!" you punctuated your words with a kiss to the newly coiled cotton on his arms. dazai could do nothing but swallow hard, his "thank you" mumbled under his breath; he didn't like the pain, but it wasn't so awful when you spoiled him like this ♡

neck kisses + scattering the expanse of your throat with baby bruises you can not hide. afterwards, he traces it out with his index finger while he takes in the markings with great interest.

when it starts to fade he gladly renews them

✿

" that tickles," you murmur, voice reduced to a whisper; you couldn't trust yourself, not with dazai scattering kisses along the exposed patches of your neck. the rehearsal of which doesn't falter, even when you tug on his increasingly unruly curls.

" my apologies, 'bella," you wince as he captures a patch of your skin between his teeth. " i think i've found my favorite form of art." he has the gall to feign a tone of sympathy, lips arcuated at the growing disparity.

in addition to the nibbling, his fingers skimmed along your torso, moving in taunting lines he knew ran your sanity thin. dazai knew all the places that made you shiver, it was a piece of information that became abused with the movement of his hands in that moment.

against your rationality, you sunk into his touch, fingers twitching along his roots. it brought a simper you couldn't see but his satisfaction is made apparent when his actions grow sloppy, scattering along the expanse of your throat and meandering along your collarbone.

" you had every chance to leave," he smirks when you don't reply, content with the way your nails briefly printed on him. predictably, he gives another nibble on your skin, tugging back gently. " this might be my favorite spot."

right on the center of your unguarded throat.

" i can't hide those there."

he laughs, breath cascading skin. " that's what i want, darling." he thinks he might lose himself when you bring a particular tug in his hair, a sound akin to a grunt reverberating against your throat.

" you're being mean." dazai makes the mistake of pulling back, gracing him with your disheveled hair, reddened lips and growing streaks of red. already he finds it to be his favorite piece of jewelry.

" don't look so down," he pressed a kiss to one of the blooming blemishes, grinning as it became more pronounced. " you'll get your turn soon."

—CHŪYA

he takes his gloves off when he goes to touch your face. he doesn't want the sensation of skin on skin to be hamper by the piece of article.

kisses to your temples & neck are exchanges he shares on the frequent. though depending on the height difference, it may also be a gesture reserved for when you're sitting on his lap or cuddled up into him. head kisses in particular feel appropriate for anything really

as for himself, i'd say he likes to be kiss on the lips(mainly so he can distract from the growing crimson that tickles his forehead)

but it's hard with the handsome face chūya has. his growing pout tells you he's growing impatient when you favor his cheeks, but the hand gripping your sleeves are so counterproductive

" can you do it properly?" he gruffs, brows furrowing that weaken by your persistence. his skin was growing warm from the kisses you spoiled him with but it hardly compares to the proper thing on his lips, aching for the familar sensation almost painfully.

he shivers when you trail to his mouth, just shy of it and his grip tightens. " like this?"

his eyes flutter shut when you close the distance and before he could realize it, his hands began to sift through your hair. " yeah," his exhale was shaky, voice dropping to a low lilt. " don't stop that."

he sleeps with his head buried in your stomach - his nose is brushing against your abdomen with toned arms slithering around you like a form of cocoon

it reaches a peak when you brush your thumb over his scalp, and you can physically note the way the muscles in his body sink. you can't see his face, greeted instead by a cascade of reds; but his lips pull into a grin at the action

it grants you the opportunity to play with his hair. and sometimes, when he wakes up to find the claw clips and cute brooches that push his bangs aside and show off his pretty eyes, he won't be tempted to remove them right away.

✿

he wanted to roll his eyes when he saw you pull out the collection of hair clips, taunting pastels and neons gawking back at him. but he has to admit, he stopped caring the moment you started to play with his strands of hair. the locks weaved through your fingers, silky and soft stirring a form of ease that compels him to remain still. when he did move, it was only in an effort to bring himself closer, almost like snuggling(though he profusely denies it as such and regards you a scoff that doesn't compliment the rest of his actions).

had he not been treading precariously the boundaries of sleep, he may have been able to pick up on the way his heart quickened; a solace riveting up his spine and leaving in the form of a breathy sigh.

he blinks his eyes at you, nose scrunched up when you start mapping out his handsome features with your thumb. " you're getting distracted."

you acknowledge his statement with a coy grin and chūya felt his heart swell even at its simplicity. "i know." you move to press your lips to his forehead; if the smile wasn't enough to dissipate the frown on his face, that was the drug.

a flash of color peeks in the corner of his eye as you draw another clip. " i was just wondering how you would look in pigtails," you joke and chūya could feel his face twist— eye twitching at your jest.

" you're pushing your luck."

" it won't be that bad, chū."

" i could leave right now." his voice was terribly unconvincing when brooches adorned his head.

" you would have left a long time ago." you grin when he doesn't refute you. " just relax."

chūya knows he's defeated when you thumb his scalp again, eyes screwing shut involuntarily. " you're enjoying this too much," he grumbles. he tilts his head to the side, granting you access to his hair, hands falling pilant against your thigh. it bewilders him how much relief washes over him as you start to pry the strands apart again.

you know he's fallen asleep when he stopped replying to your ramblings; his words going from full sentences, to sporadic words and then slurred vowels. when you peek down, he's resting comfortably on your lap, lips slightly parted and allowing light snores to fill the silence.

chūya is far too deep in his subconscious to contemplate anything, but if he could, he thinks he might just get addicted to this.

✿

a clingy drunk. in addition, the alcohol is effective at loosening his tongue, resulting in declarations of his undying love that are muffled when he goes head first into your stomach (≧▽≦)

in lieu of that, he likes to spoon you, with himself being the big spoon. he has his head in the crook of your shoulder, and you feel his inhales and exhales against your skin.

he likes your body heat, it grounds him to earth and coaxes a soft demeanor that he fails at suppressing

thoughtful when it comes to kissing in the public eye. he isn't fond of drawing that form of attention to your relationship, but he isn't opposed to stealing a couple of kisses now and then.

it's fast, it's simple and enough to satiate you and himself. and it's enough to tell onlookers that he's your bf

it that didn't give the memo, its the gloved hand on your waist that spoke to people that you were taken.

though that doesn't stop him from tugging you closer in a spur of his protective tendencies. it's a subconscious act he does when you pass a group of people or when yokohama is notably crowded. it's not merely because he's short and is worried about losing you to the sea of wayfarers(at least thats what he tells you) - rather, it roots from a concern that's only repleted when he knows you're safe

behind close doors, however, his kisses lack patience if the way he's gripping your clothes is anything to go by. and while he demonstrates a growing restlessness, he remains pensive to his own strength and withdraws to give you proper time to catch your breath.

but he knows exactly what to do intensify each one and make your brain go hazy

cupping your cheeks, tilting your head, voice speaking in a meticulous timbre that shakes your skull. you're far too consumed in the kiss to recognize when his free hand has found its way to your back, gliding along the spine before slipping beneath the hem.

his gloves are cold against your skin, mumbling a faint 'sorry' that's nearly swallowed when he brushes his lips to yours for nth time.

the limbs explore along the dips and contours, pinching your sides and smirking into the kiss when you yelp in surprise (inwardly, his heart is beating so fast, he wonders if you could hear it when his chest is pressed against yours.)

without the gloves, his hands are a hint warmer. but even warmer are his cheeks when you press kisses to it. he knits his brows together in an attempt hide how much he likes; ultimately, he betrays himself when he pulls you closer

✿

" what the fuck are you doing," he stammers as you press a kiss to his warm cheeks. despite himself, he makes no effort to move when you brush your lips on the other - even warmer than the neighboring pair.

"kissing you," you hum. "... want me to stop?"

" no." he hates how fast the words left him and he hates how you grin at that. it was just the thing to crumble his resolve - and more specifically, it's just the thing to make him go mellow, subservient to your ministrations with his heart beating erratically - even within the scrutiny of strangers and coworkers.

" give me a warning next time." he wants to frown but the expression dies when you crane your head to make contact wherever you can reach. in reponse, an arm finds purchase on your hip, shuffling you closer until you are nuzzled up to his build.

he wasn't sure what rumors would circulate if people saw him being soft - and frankly, he couldn't bring himself to quite care much about the prospect either; inwardly, he was already missing the rehearsal of your lips on his, a desire not easily quelled and he was far more occupied with fixing that.

you let out a confused hum when he suddenly taps at your cheek indignantly. " well?" a thumb hooks beneath your chin, bringing you just shy of his mouth. "are you going to finish what you started?"

✿

when he's making kissy faces with his partner, it's nobody's business.

if you have dimples, he kisses those, each one before concluding it off with your lips

chūya just likes to be in contact with you in some way really. longing to hold your hand and scribe incoherent phrases on the palm. reflected in the way his feet nudge closer to yours and how he never fails to hold your hand beneath the table. when handing you items, he reveals a form of reluctance when he detaches away.

i really want to say he does that thing where he places his fedora over his chest when he kisses your knuckles. he tries really hard to maintain eye contact, but it falters when you send him a beam that makes his chest ache from beating so fast.

and lastly, he never leaves without getting a goodbye kiss first.

✿

" you're forgetting something." chūya vexed— furrow brows bruising his otherwise neutral expression. he hasn't moved from where he stood, silhouette stilled by the partition with nothing but the perpetual tapping of his foot to remind you of his presence. it took all of your strength to push back your laughter at his childish display.

" i am?" you question with a tilt of your head. the inquiry rewarded you with a huff from the former, lip twisting into a frown. admittedly, he looked cute when grumpy, pretty dark eyes tracking you behind colored bangs.

" my kiss?" an index finger points to his neglected lips, promptly chooses to ignore the red hue that harbored along his cheeks, tickling his forehead tauntingly.

chūya tracks your movements as you stride forward, cupping his cheeks within your palms. he resists the urge to close the distance himself - as alluring as it was - he sought out satisfaction when you comply with a genlte kiss. against his own volition, a breathy and likewise dreamy sigh leaves him, just barely audible by the exchange.

his hands sneak down to rest on your waist, twitching when you press a final peck to his cheek. promptly, you decide not to comment on the way a grin was threatening to crack on his oh so serious face.

" better?"

"very."

—RANPO

yk in the movies where the guy picks up the girl and spins her around when they kiss? ranpo wants you to do that with him but he's the girl.

piggyback rides ! except he's the one on your back :/ " to the detective agency, y/n!" he jabs out a lithe finger, his dimple smile steady even when you meet him with a glare over your shoulder. it makes him more eager than anything, face squishing against your cheek as he loops his legs around your waist.

" don't give me that look" he exasperates, a brow quirk at your nonverbal response. " the world's greatest detective can't be in better hands."

" you can get there yourself," you sigh, averting your gaze back in front of you. it was hard to fight against him, his persistence shaping your decision the longer he clinged to you.

" thats the boring alternative. duh," he breathes, nuzzling his cheek against your hair. " you know me better than that. besides, i like it when you hold me."

likes kissing you. he will rope up any excuse to steal a kiss. he finished a piece of paperwork? he deserves a reward. finished eating a cookie? kiss the crumbs off. you have absolutely nothing else to do? well, his lips are right there, give him a smooch <3

his kisses taste sweet, the faint traces of chocolate and jams coating his lips. it won't be too far from him to make you guess the flavor of cake he had that morning, but really you think he's just trying to pull more kisses from you. cause he is

✿

" tastes sweet." ranpo shudders when the words vibrate against his lips, cheeks deepening to a rosy hue but the playful glint in his eye ceases to falter. " banana or strawberry?" you blink, a pensive look comprising your features.

a hand cups the back of your head, bringing you close enough for your lips to hover his, still glossy in faint syrup. " nope~!" his proceeding laugh was cut short as he closed the distance again, the ache to kiss you too profound. and with you seated on his lap, he utilized the given opportunity greedily.

you resist the urge to gasp when his tongue swipes along your lower lip, with it the tinge of a fleeting flavor; you recall watching him eat something sweet and sugary in the morning.

he smiles against your mouth, savoring your reactions and attempting to draw out the kiss. " that's definitely strawberry," you contemplate.

ranpo whines when you withdraw, grip tightening against your hands in a stubborn display - it was perhaps the most desperate response you've gotten from him that evening. " are you lying?" you tease with a knowing look; you don't think you've ever seen him shake his head as vigorously as he did now.

" i think," he brushes the corners of your mouth, fingers settling against your chin. "you'll just have to kiss me until you get it right."

the possibility to ponder a response was stolen from you, swelling lips already chasing your own with renewed zeal. dumbfounded, you were naive to the abandoned slice of shortcake just a couple tables away. but by the time you discover it, your little game would be long forgotten.

✿

his childish demeanor often seeps through into his portrayal of affection, fond of sweeping you off your feet at the displays(and at times quite literally too)

it varies in forms; one day he can slump against you like a koala, grip like a vice. and the next he decides to randomly squish your cheeks and bring a kiss to your puckered lips

" ranpo-?!" you sputter, disoriented from sudden and hasty movement. you recall looking over some documents, the next you were gazing into wide green orbs and a nose bumping yours. a self-satisfied look curls on his face, relishing in the way your face fumes beneath his touch.

" surprise~"

" what was that for?"

" just wanted a kiss." he evades the hand on your cheek in favor of curling your bangs around his finger. " i'll come back for more."

he's shameless, unafraid and bold. perhaps not to a similar depth as dazai, but ranpo yields an unpredictability that easily leaves you mellowing in his ministrations

blows raspberries on your cheeks and palms just to coax a laugh from you. it's a reaction he can't help but mimic too and implores you with a "my turn!" while tapping his cheek expectantly.

has probably nibbled on your cheeks at some point too…. :/

likes to hold your hand, slipping it into space randomly and nonchalantly. he sticky like that; appearing from thin air and finding your hand trapped with his.

even better if you sit on his lap or vice versa

when you sleep, he lays on top of you because he doesn't want you to leave him alone. plus! it provides him the perfect advantage to pepper his lips on your collarbone or other patches of expose skin

goodnight kisses (and nap kisses) are a must and he turns greatly fussy when denied such "necessities" as he puts it

✿

" i'm only going to get a glass of water," you reassure him, sweeping his messy bangs aside to press a kiss to his forehead. the crease between his brows goes slack, but his grip remains fixed; it was late, and the last thing ranpo wanted was for you to leave your spot on the futon. " i promise."

his eyes surveyed your face for an inexplicable answer and the fidgeting of his fingers against your forearms tells you he's hesitant.

a silence shrouds the dorm before he speaks again, voice weakened and resigned - it almost made you want to stay in bed with him, enveloped by the unspoken words and his endless aura of affection. " okay." you trace your finger over his cheek, pallid and smooth beneath the pad - the gesture was persuasive enough for his grip to grow lax. he didn't let you get too far yet however, an outstretched pinky waiting before you. he bestows you a broaden grin when you accept it, pressing a kiss to the tip of the adjoin digits.

he doesn't leave your side even as you fix yourself a glass of water, your shared blanket haphazardly draping his shoulders and trailing behind him. he lingers by your arm even as the facet runs, interrupting his thoughts with tired green blinking in impatience. and he watches you through his bangs as you replenish your thirst, already looping your arm and guiding you back to your futon.

not a second after your head meets the pillow, ranpo wraps himself around you, dawning a smile now that you're back with him. he didn't care if his elbow was probed at an odd angle, he just wanted to be as close to you as possible.

" you can't fall asleep yet!" he whines, pulling on the sleeves of your shirt languidly. " it's only fair if you give me a kiss."

" i gave you one earlier."

his gaze shifted to a mixture of displeasure and yearning, small hands pulling eagerly on the fabrics of your clothes. his pleading green eyes made it hard to resist his demands, obscuring into a candid vulnerability you seemingly wielded over him.

" but," ranpo leans close enough for his nose to brush yours, messy fringe framing his sleepy face. his hands flex around your palms, nails scuff on the contours, voice going so low you almost didn't hear him. " i can't fall asleep without it."

✿

pinches your cheeks when in vie for your attention. in any case, he isn't against stomping his foot and whining as a last resort :<

his pout dissipates when you grant him with a collection of kisses or allow him to sit on your lap, fiddling with the ends of your hair or scribbling random phrases on your thigh that he makes you guess

i wouldn't put it against him to randomly jump into your arms or back. the questioning glances he receives hardly impedes him, instead murmuring an "i miss you," into your shoulder. he quivers in your arms when you comb your fingers through his hair, eyes squeezed shut in an air of bliss.

when it comes to deep embraces, he nestles against you akin to a cat, hands pawing wherever he can reach with greedy intent. and that cloak of his can easily encompass the pair of you, performing as a makeshift den of sorts. it feels like your enclosed own little world with him pressing kisses along your face like a butterfly

ranpo is attentive, all too familiar with your habits including the ones you don't cognitively account for. he notes the way you fidget with your fingers, and increasingly it came to be with his fingers you grew fidgety with. if you have a habit of tugging your sleeve, it's not your sleeve you're tugging on anymore but his instead.

he comes to recognize these patterns and responds in kind either with a squeeze to your clasped hand or tapping against your skin in a form of code.

has love hearts in his eyes when you offer to feed him. if he's feeling kind, he'll reciprocate the gesture, though, often at the expense of getting something he wants.

napkins are overrated, kissing off the crumbs or using his thumb are so much more favorable alternatives to him

" say ah~"

you cocked a brow as sugar became smeared on your lip - hardly helped by the titter coming from him. ranpo's persistence was tenacious and the myriad of his treats proved to be bottomless. you weren't sure how many treats you've been fed at that point but it's evident the former found enjoyment from the coddling as evidence of his dimpled smile.

ranpo offers you another confection, a velvety cookie glazed in congealed frosting. when you indulgently take a bite, the filling melts in your mouth and the taste of vanilla floods your taste buds.

" it's good right?" he gives you a smile as he observes your face, brightening when you react positively. " i got them just for you. i knew they were your favorite."

he suddenly pauses, eyes fixating toward your direction. he pays little heed to the look you send him, not when his gaze centers south; that should have been your first sign to up and leave - you want to blame his bribery of treats for your reason to stay.

" you got crumbs all over your face," he said, eyes squinting. while his tone was gentle with a trace of mirth, the way his eyelashes batted innocently at you alluded otherwise. ranpo always held a resurgent glimmer in his eyes, one that he couldn't blink away easily.

he hastily stops you before you could grab a napkin to dapple it away, residing to instead run his thumb along the corners of your mouth. the deliberate proximity catches you off guard and given how his lips shift into a faint smirk; that was exactly the reaction he was hoping to coax.

" much better," he leans back but not without pressing a peck to your nose first.

he plucks out another cookie - and much to your surprise doesn't eat it down right away. more accurately, he crudely cracks it half, revealing an abundance of sugary filling hidden within the confines. without a hint of hesitation, he dips a finger into the cream frosting and messily swatches it against his mouth.

his dimpled smile doesn't leave him for a second even as he slots in front of you directly. his pink cheeks and light stutter chipped away at his facade but his green eyes and lips pulled into a firm beam remained confident.

you almost detested the way it was infectious otherwise you would have rolled your eyes.

ranpo reached out to cup your cheeks, waiting. " it's only fair you do it back, okay?"

—ATSUSHI

he holds a lot of hesitation when it comes to enacting anything physical and it shows.

modest, never performing any actions without your explicit consent. even so he exercises slow movement and allows you the opportunity to withdraw if you so desire.

he follows you around a lot though, seeking comfort from being your presence

it shows in the way he inches himself closer to you when you're in the general vicinity. in the way he glances at you for confirmation before lacing fingers. in the way he scoots his chair to close just so his thigh is just slightly nudging yours.

he questions how you're able to be so composed even with something as minimal as brushing clothed skin because inwardly he's going abrack and he can't focus on anything else

" atsushi are you listening to what i'm saying?" your voice broke him from his stupor, head perking up

in the following moment he could do nothing more than let out a nervous laugh, eyes fluttering in companion of scarlet cheeks. " ye- i… erm.. can you repeat that please?"

actually him -> (〃´𓎟`〃)

his favorite physical attributes about you are your hands, i think! they're so strong, and it fits into his perfectly <3 he can spend an hour just tracing the lines along your palm and appreciating the details

as such he's a hand holder as well. he shyly links his pinky with yours before gradually lacing the rest of the digits. when he looks at the joined limbs, it's like a shot of comfort runs right through him.

✿

you often catch him peering at you in the corner of his eyes, mosaic of yellows and purples squinting in intrigue. presently, his hands go clammy, fidgeting against his pants at a random manner; it was a common gesture of his, one that didn't go by unnoticed by you.

" something wrong?" he eases up a bit at the sound of your sincere tone.

" no, not at all," he gives off a nervous laugh, hand scratching the back of his neck. too far into his nerves, he failed to to recognize how the area became chafed. " i was just wondering," he paused, lips shaped into a bashful smile. " can i… hold your hand?"

atsushi didn’t have a mirror on him but he doesn't doubt that his face can put tomatoes to shame.

fortunately, the stiffened muscles on his back go slack at the giggle you release, a nervous chuckle pouring from himself. the erratic beat of his heart meanwhile, resumed its ricochet against his sternum, blood pounding on the lobe of his ear.

"you don't have to be so hesitant about holding my hand, 'sushi." you accentuated the statement by dipping your palm to take his.

it's evident he takes your words to heart, as next time he wordlessly hooks his index finger with yours before properly weaving the rest of the appendage. it was like a perfect puzzle, he reckoned and he gave his head the faintest tilt to gaze at it.

without realizing it, he rolls his thumb over the knuckles, savoring the exchange and the sensation of your fingertips on his. you haven't even spoken a word and already, his heart fills immensely full.

and if you pay attention, you may even catch him grinning at the presumably courageous gesture he mustered himself to do. his clammy palms tell you he's nervous, but it's hard to resist him when he's genuinely trying so hard.

✿

when he does garner the confidence however, he holds his hand out for everything; helping you out of the car(princess treatment w him tbh!), guiding you to bed when you're really sleepy, or when he just needs to be in some form of contact with you. he may even take it a step and pepper some kisses on the knuckles or rub the joints

moving his hand along your back when you're having a bad day of sorts. he may even resort to drawing shapes or random designs with the back of his nail as he listens to all your troubles

whenever your face scrunches up he kisses the pinched muscle until it goes loose again.

" there's that smile." he pushes aside his diffidence for your sake, cupping your cheeks before pressing kisses along your cheeks.

for himself, he finds a sort of reprieve by lying down on your lap. the moment his head makes contact with your thighs is like instant relaxation for him.

and all he can pay attention to afterwards is the sensation tickling his ribs and the way you mindfully took his roots within your fingers.

he seeks stability in such actions; his deep exhale occupying your dorm and meandering with the dust particles that float around him. he doesn't even realize how he's nuzzling closer into your body, eyes squeezing shut when you favor his scalp for a few seconds.

if he could purr, he would

kissing the tips of your fingers and hugging you from behind ♡

its the best form of affection he could ask for when he comes home groggy and sore from work

✿

" i'm home." exhaustion claws at his voice, movements stiff and sluggish as he strips of his tie and other accessories. his eyes surveyed the area, searching until…

a pop of familiar hues sweep into his vision. it revitalizes just enough energy to sustain a pair of open eyes, belied to the fatigue housed prior.

" welcome home, 'sushi." you greet with a smile he couldn't help but mimic even as the muscles in his body disagreed with it.

your mouth moves to mumble something else, but the words become intelligible to his ears. he was more far more concerned in slumping into the crevice of your shoulder, head falling into familiar position.

" miss you," he murmurs, rubbing his cheek against you, affectionate as ever. his hands wander down to your waist, finding the hemline. perhaps his growing daze subdued his rationality, for his hands slipped beneath, pinky faintly hitting skin.

" let's go." you gently tugged on his arm, intending to guide him to your futon; you only managed a couple steps before his grip went firm. almost uncharacteristically. when you turn your head, your met with a pair of fluttering lashes gazing at you - droopy but in its reflection was an intangible touch of fondness.

" this is fine," he brushes his lips to your cheek. the gesture was sloppy but enough to rekindle a grin on your face. " just want you here."

his finger sprawled against your stomach, heart hastening when you leaned back into him. he took the opportunity to douse himself in your comfort, relishing when you brush your fingers past his ear and scratch along his head.

he feels himself sink more when your nail caught a certain spot, just lateral to his head.

if it weren't for your voice breaking the silence, he would have surely fallen asleep at that moment.

" i'm right here," you murmur. " go ahead and rest." he wasn't sure how those words could weigh heavily on him as it did and also provide him the lull to drift off to sleep. but it didn't matter. the real thing is so much better than he can ever imagine.

✿

when you cuddle together, he prefers to settle with his hand or head where your heart should be. the thumping is so reassuring, especially when his insecurities pipe up. he needs to know you're still there :(

on the days he can't sleep, he finds himself playing with your fingers: gently flexing the joints and counting the knuckles

he's docile at anything routley intimate; fuming a pair of uncomfortably hot cheeks and legs reduced to jelly. his words often come in the form of stutters and slurred syllables, the slightest of touches jolting him.

his actual kisses though are gentle and considerate, favoring areas such as your hands and cheeks.

in contrast, the drawn-out gestures are hesitant at first. when it came to the first kiss, he had to swallow down his nervousness.

" did i do okay?" he inquires, eyeing your countenance. he feels a crash of relief when a grin curves on your lips and in turn he flashes you a dazzling amiable smile.

"good." he nods at that, removing the space again with the intentions of lengthening it and making it better than the last. good was fine, but he wants perfect when it came to you

when atsushi gets a taste of what physical affection can be like; pecks at his face, squeezing your hand and spooning you close - he's hooked. and he wants more, becoming akin to an insatiable pit. and it's profound.

he yearns for more kisses and lingering embraces that set his nerves aflame. he yearns to be closer to you until it was just impossible.

it also spurs a part of him(and in consequence of his ability as well) a yearning to leave some markings along your skin. he tries to be considerate in where he places it, but he himself is awful at hiding his own blemishes.

✿

a shaky expression drops on his face, the faint pink on his cheeks deepening to a cherry blush. he wasn't familiar to having your lips press beneath his chin, outlining the thrum of his throat - you could feel it's cadence whenever he sharply exhales, in pair of his palpitating heart.

even within his daze, atsushi remained cautious to not sink his nails into your shoulders. in comparison, he fails to suppress his shudder when your lips brush against a particular spot, air knocked from his chest.

when you glance up at him, his face contorts into a form of raw desperation, tugging onto your clothes until you were just shy of his mouth. meekly, he tries to not linger his gaze on your lips as you spoke; " is this fine?"

it's like you're teasing him, puffy magenta lips gawking at him and he wants nothing more than to kiss you again.

" it is." from the corner of his eye he could make out the faint reds that probed from his clothes hemline, dotting along his collarbone like swatches of paint. he doesn't think he'll ever grow use to it, filling him with an exhilaration he reasons can't be replicated elsewhere.

" i like it actually." his eyes squeezed shut in an effort to steady the eruption of red on his cheeks but it did little to quell his racing heart when you cupped his face, pressing a kiss to his mouth.

" i'm glad, you look handsome like this."

his smile reaches his eyes. "you look pretty too." his nails dug into his palms in an effort of restraint as he returns the gesture in kind.

I was originally hoping to include fyodor but this was so long already. w/ him (& unfinished) it would be 8k words. I rlly want to do version for sigma and akutagawa too. ty boxing fyodor anon 4 enabling my behavior TwT

these have so much room for improvement but I've fiddled around with it sm (๑′°︿°๑). if this doesn't leave the drafts now, it never will. I'll fix mistakes laterrr

taglist; @eynnwwyjth @anqelically @seisitive @iheartpieck @seiiblue @averagebsdwatcher @solandiss @4nthonyyliving @guacamole-roll @sunnyx07

be added or removed here !

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cherienymphe · 4 months

Text

Teenage Dirtbag V (JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, violence (+ gun violence), gun kink, dacryphilia, attempted murder, mentions of blood, public sex, jealousy, manipulation, infidelity, underage drinking, drug use, canon ages, kook!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ series masterlist

summary: You’re charmingly spoiled. You’re too kind for your own good. You’re the princess of Figure 8 …and you’re way out of JJ Maybank’s league, but when he realizes that Rafe Cameron’s pride and joy is actually a bruised and battered damsel, he’s determined to save you.

Your rescue just comes with a price.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* Happy New Year *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You narrowly missed the hanger coming your way as Rafe ripped dress after dress out of your closet, clothes and hangers flying around the room as a result of his rage. You could do nothing but stand there with your arms folded over your chest, biting the inside of your cheek as you stared at him with a tearful glare. You flinched when a dress hit you square in the chest, and it wasn’t long before Rafe’s face was right in front of yours.

“Sometimes I swear you do this shit on purpose.”

“My mother bought me this dress, you know she bought me this dress-.”

“…and I hated it then for the same reasons I hated it today.”

You swallowed at the words he spat in your face, and when he moved closer you turned your head. Rafe was quiet for some time, just staring at you while you stared at your bathroom door. His breathing was even, so the deep breath he took was noticeable.

“Do you like being stared at like…like a piece of meat?” he quietly wondered.

“What kind of question is that?” you slowly asked, facing him.

Rafe’s hair kissed his forehead, strands going every which way as a result of his actions. His blue eyes were cold as he stared you down, a frown on his face.

“One I expect an answer to.”

He blinked at you, and you shifted on your feet.

“Of course not,” you whispered.

“You could’ve fooled me.”

“Rafe-.”

“I have eyes, you know,” he bit out, backing away from you and kicking a stray dress on the floor. “You think I didn’t see the way some of my dad’s friends were looking at you? You knew exactly what you were doing.”

A few tears spilled over at his words, and you quickly wiped your face. The sequined dress you currently had on was a holiday gift from your own mother last year. She’d loved it, and you’d loved it too, but when Rafe told you he wasn’t crazy about it, you really hadn’t given it much more thought. You just filed it away under one of those dresses you could only wear once a year.

You hadn’t expected a fight to break out over the sight of it.

Rafe’s jealousy fueled rampage only served to make you feel even worse. He spoke about Ward’s friends like it was something you wanted and not something that made you deeply uncomfortable. You did not relish in the attention from men old enough to be your father—some of them older than your own father—and having that thrown in your face just made you angry.

“Fuck you,” you defeatedly whispered.

Rafe snapped his head up, a glint in his eye as his face evened out.

“Excuse me?”

You wiped your face again, shaking your head.

“I said fuck you. Fuck you for throwing that in my face like I wanted that,” you tearfully continued. “Like I wasn’t uncomfortable-.”

Your words were cut off when Rafe gripped your chin and cheeks, pressing his fingers and thumb into your skin so harshly you winced.

“Well, maybe you should’ve worn a different dress.”

He shoved you away from him, causing you to stumble in your heels. He stared you down, challenging you to say something else, and you could only stare back, thinking to yourself that you wanted to be as far away from Rafe as possible. With a scoff, you stomped past him, unsurprised when you heard him right on your heels.

“…and where do you think you’re going?”

He stopped you at the top of the stairs with a harsh grip on your elbow, forcing you to face him.

“Away from this house, away from you, I don’t care,” you choked out. “Anywhere.”

“Well, maybe you should go buy a whole new wardrobe while you’re out,” he told you, a small smirk on his lips. “Who knows what I might do to that one in there.”

You pushed at his hand, trying to get him to let go when he shook you. You stumbled, a foot falling to a lower step, and you sharply inhaled. Rafe only chuckled, tilting his head to eye your foot.

“Careful,” he warned you. “My hand might just slip, and then you won’t be going anywhere.”

“Let go of me,” you demanded, and Rafe did, but not without a slight shove attached.

If your other hand hadn’t been on the railing, you would’ve stumbled down more than three steps. You hissed when your knee hit the wood, and pushing yourself to your feet was futile when Rafe shoved you again with a knee to your back. You were just barely able to throw your hands out to break your fall, a pained cry escaping at the flare in your knees as you hit the bottom.

His footsteps were loud as he cleared the remaining steps, and you were about to attempt to push yourself to your feet again when the harsh feel of his palm was on your head, pushing you down.

“Try to get up again, and I’ll rip your hair out.”

You froze, sitting back down as you kept your tearful gaze on the floor.

Your parents were still at the Camerons’, so the house was quiet save for your heavy breathing. Being alone with Rafe was always either good or downright terrifying. There was no in between. You didn’t move when he slowly started to move his fingers over your scalp, nothing soothing about the action. You heard your boyfriend heave a deep sigh.

“You’re the one who ruined this night…not me,” he slowly said, and you swallowed. “So, maybe a drive around the block will do you some good. Help you clear your head.”

Rafe shoved your head away from him before turning around, and you wiped your face.

“Don’t make me come find you,” were his parting words as he ascended the stairs.

You sat on the floor for what felt like way too long before finally pushing yourself to your feet. Your vision was blurry as you reached for your keys, and you quietly closed the door behind you, recalling the last time you dared to slam the door after a fight. You felt no solace when you slid into your car and started it up, more tears spilling over as you backed out of the driveway.

It wouldn’t be the first time you needed a moment to yourself after a fight, and like every other time, even your alone time was micromanaged. When Rafe didn’t want to see your face as much as you didn’t want to see his, he sent you on your way, and you chuckled at the thought of what would happen if you were gone too long. The AirTag on your car would just lead him straight to you, and you never enjoyed being dragged back like some dog in the street.

A drive or two around the block wouldn’t be enough, and before you realized it, you found yourself parked at the beach. The sight of the sand and water brought you back down to earth for all of five minutes, just staring through your windshield with parted lips. You suddenly had the brief urge to just…drive into the ocean. The thought took you by surprise because truthfully, as awful as Rafe had been to you, ending it all had never crossed your mind…and you didn’t even know why.

You didn’t think you had any hope that things would get better…but you also didn’t know if death would be better. Your future with Rafe was known. You knew what you had to look forward to, to endure. Nothing about death was known to you. For some reason, that uncertainty paralyzed you with fear. Even if you had the guts to do it, you weren’t alone…

You glanced down the beach at the small fire you saw, people crowded around it. It wasn’t some huge party or anything, appearing to be a relatively small group, but it seemed just enough people to be considered one. You just stared at them with a small frown, thinking on how differently their night was going.

Staring at your steering wheel, you thought about how you’d drive back to your house and walk inside to greet your boyfriend. Rafe would be waiting for you, staring at you with that look and how he wouldn’t apologize until you did. You’d admit you shouldn’t have worn the dress and then he’d say he hated when you made him act that way. He’d kiss you, maybe even pull you into a hug, and then you’d go upstairs like nothing happened.

You were pulled from your thoughts by a tap on your window, startled by the sound.

The last person you expected to see was JJ Maybank.

Your lips parted as you stared at him through your window, a frown slowly taking over as he had the gall to lean on your car. You weren’t quite sure what to do next. Not only was he the last person you expected to see tonight, but your last conversation with him was unfortunately something that had yet to leave your mind.

Staring at him through the glass, you recalled staring at the bruising on his face as he stood so close to you. He’d been too close, and you’d allowed it, and if you hadn’t had the sense of mind to slap his hand away, you didn’t want to linger on what might’ve happened next. Would he have kissed you just as he theorized doing? You wouldn’t have let him, of course, but you’d never forget the look on his face.

JJ Maybank was very dangerous for you to be around.

…and yet you found yourself getting rid of the barrier between you.

“If you came to join the party, you’re a little late,” were his first words to you. “Everyone’s breaking off, going to some other party or whatever.”

You glanced behind him, noticing the fire was now out and people were splitting up as he’d said.

“No,” you told him with a shake of your head. “I just came here to clear my head for a little bit.”

The blond was eyeing you when you looked back at him, and you didn’t think you liked how intently he was doing it.

“Rough night…?”

“I guess you could say that.”

You didn’t know why you said that instead of denying it. Maybe it was because you could feel how puffy your eyes probably were, and alluding to anything other than the truth would just insult his intelligence. A silence descended over you two, and you couldn’t decide if it was awkward or not. You knew that Rafe would bash your head into the mirror for even daring to talk to JJ, and somehow that didn’t stop your next words.

“Where are you headed?”

You didn’t know if you were still angry about the whole dress debacle or what, but you liked to think that anger was fueling your decision to offer JJ a ride when he told you he was heading to Sarah’s. JJ only raised an eyebrow at you.

“Do you have daddy’s permission to do that?”

“Please don’t refer to Rafe as ‘daddy’ ever again,” you sighed.

“Why not?” he wondered. “You probably do.”

You threw him a look, watching him chuckle.

“Besides, you knew exactly who I was referring to, and that’s all that matters.”

You found yourself regretting your choice almost immediately, but you still unlocked the door when JJ made his way around to the passenger side. It felt weird to have anyone other than Rafe sitting in your car, but especially JJ. He smelled like the burning wood he’d just been around, and the aroma filled your vehicle. When you asked him if the heat was too much, he kept his gaze on you as he told you it was okay.

“You know Sarah’s parents are having some fancy party, right?”

When you glanced at JJ, he was already looking at you, that cheeky grin on his lips.

“What are you trying to say? That I’ll stick out like a sore thumb?”

There was no point in denying that was exactly what you meant, but JJ only laughed to himself.

“I know,” he told you. “John B.’s picking her up at about 11, so he might as well take us both back to The Cut.”

You nodded at that, agreeing with his logic.

“Unless you want to do the honors,” the blond drawled.

When you glanced at him, you could see that he wasn’t joking, and you only shook your head.

“It’s time I start heading back home, anyway. It’s why I don’t mind dropping you off at Sarah’s since it’s on the way.”

There was a brief pause.

“Have you ever even been to the other side of the island?”

You didn’t know why he asked. You both knew the answer to that question and when—to no one’s surprise—you shook your head, JJ hummed. You didn’t know what that meant, and you looked at him again. Only, for once since he got into your car, he wasn’t looking at you. The blond was staring out of the windshield, but you didn’t miss the small smirk that danced along his lips.

“We’ll have to change that…”

You didn’t know what to say to that, thinking to yourself that the likelihood of it ever happening was low. The rest of the ride was quiet, and when you finally made it to the Camerons’, something in you didn’t want to leave. You wanted to say it had everything with not wanting to return to Rafe, but as you watched JJ exit your car…you knew that wasn’t the whole truth.

“You look much better since the last time I saw you.”

JJ leaned his hands on your window sill, and you watched him blink at you, seemingly deep in thought.

“Thanks…I wish I could say the same about you…”

You pulled your lip between your teeth at that, hating the way the blond stared at you. When he thanked you for the ride, you only nodded with a small smile, glancing at the clock and telling yourself you had maybe five more minutes before Rafe started blowing up your phone. You resisted the urge to park your car and instead prepared yourself to drive back to your boyfriend.

The sound of buzzing was what pulled you from sleep. It wasn’t the kind accompanied by one single text but instead a phone call—continuous. It took you a minute to realize you’d fallen asleep on the couch—waiting up for Rafe—and that was exactly where the phone call found you. It wasn’t too late when you checked the time, only a little past 10, and Rafe’s text told you that he was still tied up with Ward and probably would be for another hour.

Both had left the Cameron house hours ago.

You were pulled from your thoughts by your phone again, and it was then that you realized it wasn’t Rafe who’d been calling you. You stared at the unfamiliar number in confusion for probably too long, debating on if you should answer or not. Against your better judgement, you did.

“Hello…?”

You sat up with a groan, glancing around the dark house and surmising that everyone else was asleep.

“It’s JJ.”

Those two words removed any remnants of sleep left, eyes widening and lips parting as you felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over you. You blinked a few times, in disbelief and confusion, and you struggled with what to say next. It was the middle of the night, and JJ Maybank was calling you.

“What…? Why...why are you…?” you rubbed your forehead. “How did you…?”

You couldn’t finish a single question, but you were sure JJ understood you loud and clear.

“I stole your number from Sarah,” he answered, making you frown. “I’m outside.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach at that, and you frantically turned around. You craned your head to look out of the window as you stumbled to your feet. Sure enough, there was a familiar van outside and a familiar blond standing next to it. More concerned with Rafe coming home and catching him in the yard, you were in a hurry to see what he wanted.

JJ spoke up though before you could manage to find your shoes.

“I just need more of those painkillers you gave me…”

You paused at that, frown easing some as you started to understand.

“My dad wasn’t in the best of moods this morning and since I have the Twinkie for the day…I figured I’d come to the best plug in town.”

“Don’t call me that,” you whispered.

“Well, nothing else I’ve ever taken took the edge off like that, so…”

Something about the way JJ’s voice trailed off in combination with his tone had you reaching for your purse. You started to ask him how bad it was, but then you figured you’d be seeing just how bad it was pretty soon, anyway. As your feet carried you towards the door, you were in a bit of a shock to think that JJ was outside the Cameron house waiting for you to pass along prescription drugs. It didn’t feel real, but you had to remind yourself that it was indeed very real because if Rafe came home early…

There would be nothing unreal about his anger.

“How did you know I was here?” you asked the blond as he met you halfway.

“Let Sarah tell it, you’re almost always here.”

You eyed him as you handed him a familiar pill, drinking in the sight of a bruise under his eye. JJ didn’t comment on the scrutiny, opting for popping the pill instead. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him even if you wanted to, feeling too many things at the sight of his swollen lip. You weren’t even thinking about Rafe…

“I’m really sorry, JJ,” you whispered.

His gaze met yours at your words, and he shrugged. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to play it off or if he was really just that used to it.

“Don’t be,” he told you. “It’s not your fault.”

“Why don’t…?” you trailed off, wondering if it was your place. “Why don’t you stay with John B. or Pope or something? They’re your friends, and I’m sure their parents wouldn’t be completely against it.”

You watched JJ sigh, turning to look away while running his hand through his blond locks.

“I probably should,” he admitted. “…but…”

He shrugged, looking at you with an eyeful of excuses.

“He’s my dad, you know.”

You gave him a look that let him know you didn’t agree with that, at all.

“JJ…”

Your tone made him smile, pink lips slowly curving upwards as he shoved his hands into his pockets. Gone was the battered teenager and instead the cheeky blond you were used to seeing. You didn’t think you liked the way he looked at you, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

“You worried about me?”

“Yes, actually,” you honestly replied. “I am.”

His smile dimmed some, but he still let out a soft closed mouth chuckle. He glanced away, nodding to himself before looking at you again. You didn’t have time to stop him this time when he reached out to gently touch your chin, and you couldn’t ignore how your stomach flipped at the brief contact.

“Don’t be. You should worry about yourself…and that asshole boyfriend of yours.”

He turned away from you before you could reply, and you opened your mouth before thinking better of it. You rubbed your forehead, watching him walk away, and feeling helpless, you told yourself there was no telling when you’d get another chance. Calling his name, you hurried to catch up to him.

JJ looked curious as to what you could possibly want when he turned around to face you. You felt nervous, and you wondered if it was noticeable because JJ’s expression softened some. You knew you felt bad, and you knew you felt helpless, but maybe a part of you felt compelled to help JJ because you couldn’t help yourself. Maybe, at the very least, you could make this easier for one of you.

“We’re not friends…”

His brows rose at that, and you hurried to continue when he snorted.

“I’m just putting that out there, so there’s no confusion with what I’m about to say because…we can’t be friends, JJ. Do you understand?”

JJ’s blue gaze held your own for some time, and he tilted his head. He ran his eyes over your face, and it was hard to place his expression.

“Trust me… I have no intention of being your friend.”

You knew he didn’t mean that in the way you wanted him to, but you refused to let that scare you into backing out of what you were about to say. You took a deep breath.

“My family has a pool house…”

He crossed his arms over his chest, intently listening.

“No one uses it…except for me when I was like sixteen and thought I hated my parents.”

JJ seemed to catch onto what you were hinting at, and he dropped his arms, slightly frowning at you, now.

“The key is under the plant on the right side of the door…and I don’t know… If it gets really bad with your father sometimes…that’s good information to have I guess.”

JJ didn’t respond, and you didn’t have anything else to say, so you just backed away, giving him a small smile.

“Goodnight.”

JJ didn’t wish you a goodnight back until you’d already turned your back on him, and you threw him another smile over your shoulder before going back inside.

Your lips trembled as you stared into the mirror, hands shaking as you struggled to wipe the mess off of your chest. The music from the party was loud, bleeding into the bedroom and bathroom through the walls, so you weren’t worried about Rafe hearing your soft cries. You threw the tissue into the toilet, the sound of the flush hiding another sob.

No matter how many times you fixed your dress, nothing about your appearance looked right in the mirror. It was funny. Before you left, you thought you looked okay. It was a dress you picked out that even Rafe liked, but it was only now as you stared into the mirror did you wonder if Rafe liked it too much. You’d had no problems with your dress and hair and makeup until after Rafe had held you down in some stranger’s room to fuck you on their bed.

You could still feel the pain from when he’d twisted your arm behind your back, harshly telling you to lighten up and relax. You hadn’t been in the mood, and Rafe hadn’t cared.

“If I waited until you were in the mood, I’d never get any,” he’d thrown at you, chuckling to himself like it was funny.

“Rafe, I’m serious,” you’d told him.

The only response you’d gotten was a kiss to the corner of your mouth as he’d shoved you down. No amount of protesting had deterred him—it never did—and you were sure the owner’s bed was stained with your mascara, courtesy of your tears. The same mascara you were currently trying to fix, something proving to be futile.

Rafe wasn’t wrong though.

You never initiated sex—not unless it could get you out of trouble—and why would you? Rafe raping you wasn’t what you’d consider a regular thing, but it was a sporadic one. Then again, the only reason you were even in this relationship was because you knew Rafe would slit your throat if you left him, so maybe, technically speaking, it all counted as rape.

You touched your chest to make sure you were clean, jaw ticking at the memory of Rafe coming on it. He hardly ever did that, and you knew the only reason he did tonight was to piss you off and humiliate you some more. You’d just straightened your dress for the umpteenth time when he banged on the door.

“I’m ready,” you harshly told him, swinging it open.

His fist had still been in the air when you did, and you didn’t hesitate in pushing past him to grab your jacket. You could feel his eyes on you as you slipped it on, and you turned your head when he leaned in for a kiss. Rafe paused, his gaze fixed on you, and you only huffed when he grabbed your face and forced a kiss on your lips, anyway.

“This party’s turning into bullshit, and Kelce said he might come by for a line or two,” he told you, wrapping an arm around your waist as he guided you out.

Ward was out of town for two days, and you wanted to roll your eyes at how predictable Rafe was. It’d cost nothing to do drugs at Kelce’s place, but you supposed that wasn’t as fun as doing them somewhere he knew he was forbidden to. Somewhere he knew Ward would lose his mind over if he knew…

Rafe held you tighter when you made it back downstairs, and you only realized why when you saw a few familiar faces.

“Yeah, this party’s definitely gone to shit, now…”

You said nothing, quickly looking away when your gaze passed over JJ who was standing by Sarah. You’d tried not to dwell on your secret meetups with the other blond, but it was hard. He wasn’t supposed to be your friend—anything like it—and not only had you given him a ride, but a possible place to stay sometimes too.

Not even Rafe knew about the pool house key.

You told yourself that it was just a desire to help Sarah’s friend where you couldn’t help yourself, but you couldn’t deny that something in you was drawn to the blond from the other side of the island. That night in which you’d dropped him off, you hadn’t really wanted to leave. You could admit that, now, and the same could be said for the night he showed up at the Cameron household. You didn’t know if it was JJ or just…

The feeling of talking to a guy who wasn’t Rafe.

You’d forgotten what it felt like to be treated like your own person…and not an extension of the man helping you into his truck.

“Isn’t sex supposed to fuck the attitude out of you or something?”

Those were the words Rafe said to you five minutes into the drive back to his place.

“I don’t have an attitude,” you quietly told him.

There was a brief pause, and you didn’t need to look over to know that Rafe was staring you down.

“Yeah…you do,” he slowly said. “…but that’s okay because the night’s over, and you can just…go to bed mad for all I care.”

Huffing was apparently the wrong thing to do.

“Wh-what is this about earlier? Is that what you’re…pouting about?”

You said nothing, trying your best to avoid a fight, but it seemed that Rafe was itching for one. When he grabbed your chin, you tried to snatch your head away, but his grip was firm, and you winced when he made you face him. Rafe looked between the road and you, nostrils flaring as he stared you down.

“If I didn’t know any better—and I do—I’d think you were fucking somebody else…” he roughly let you go. “…because you’re never in the mood.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, staring straight ahead as silence descended over the inside of his truck. Not soon enough, his house was in sight, and you were already reaching for your seatbelt when Rafe parked. However, before you could open your door, one of Rafe’s hands was curling around your neck.

The gasp you let out was loud—choked—and you reached up to grab his hand. The back of your head was forced against the window, and too busy trying to get him to let go, you paid no mind to his other hand. It forced it’s way between your legs, fingers searching and pushing their way into you, walls still wet from your previous activities.

A choked sound escaped you as you pushed against his chest. Rafe’s face was nearing yours as he roughly thrust his fingers into you, curling them and making you gasp and jerk in his hold. His nose grazed your cheek as he fingered you, and nothing about it was enjoyable as you let out a whine.

“You are my girlfriend,” he whispered, lips grazing your ear. “…and that means whenever and wherever I want.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling a sense of relief when he pulled his hand from in between your legs. That relief, however, was short-lived when you heard him reach for his pants. He saw you reaching for the door, and he was quick to grab your arm, yanking you closer and twisting his other hand into your hair. The scream you let out was pained when he pulled as hard as he could, and Rafe wasted no time in climbing over you.

Pushing against his chest did nothing, and considering it was less than an hour ago when he’d fucked you at that party, you knew Rafe wasn’t actually in the mood again. He just wanted to hurt you, wanted to exert power over you and get it through your head that your body belonged to him.

You winced when he pushed his way into you, immediately thrusting into you despite your lack of preparation. One of his hands was around your throat, the other pinning your arm in place. Your free hand was digging into his arm, tears spilling over as his hips snapped against yours. The inside of his truck was filled with the sounds of your cries and his grunts, and when he leaned in to kiss you this time, you gave him exactly what he wanted.

#jj maybank x reader #dark!jj maybank #dark!jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader #dark!rafe x reader #obx fic #obx fanfiction #obx imagine #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #jj maybank imagine #rafe cameron imagine #jj maybank fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfiction

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evera-era · 5 months

Note

hii i hope you’re doing good and i love your writing sm!!!

i was wondering if you could write smth where reader has an attitude and ellie isnt having it so r mumbles smth like “then get rid of it” and ellie fucks the attitude out of reader w her strap🙈

hi love, tysm!! and ofc i can. enjoy!

warnings: mdni dirty talk, rough sex, hair pulling, daddy kink, ellie’s a brat tamer… hmmmm yea

—

You had been having an attitude all week. Truthfully, you were frustrated with… well, everything. But whenever Ellie would pester you about it, it just annoyed you even more.

“It’s nothing.” You’d grumble. But Ellie knew that it was obviously not nothing, because she knows her girl like the back of her hand.

Today, while you were sitting on the couch, Ellie came up and changed the channel — much to your disapproval.

“I was watching that,” You whine, narrowing your eyes at her. The brunette merely shrugs.

“Our show is coming on. It’s five.” She says. You throw your hands up.

“Seriously? You couldn’t ask me first?” You comment, rolling your eyes.

“What’s your problem? I mean, really.” She says. “You’ve had an attitude this entire week.”

“I have not had an attitude.”

“Jesus,” She mutters, tossing the remote to the side. “Fine, sure. Whatever.”

You stare at her as she gets up from the couch, presumably heading towards the bedroom.

“I haven’t!”

“You literally fucking have!” She exclaims. As she turns around, she hears your lowly voice.

“Then fucking get rid of it.”

At first, she halts, then turns on her heels. She cocks her head to the side.

“What’d you just say?” She asks.

You look off to the side, refusing to make eye contact with Ellie.

“I said get rid of it.”

—

Everything from earlier was a blur. You had no recollection of the way her stare hardened, the way her voice dropped an octave as she beckoned you to the room with nothing more then a “In. Now.”

Under her, you couldn’t even remember what you were mad about. It was like the thoughts in your head meddled together and disappeared with every stroke of her toy cock, with every thrust she made into your tight cunt.

“Fuck,” She groaned, messily pumping herself into you as she watched you cry out and arch underneath her.

You were babbling endlessly about how it was “too much,” to which Ellie clamps her hand over your mouth.

“Shut,” She grunts. Another thrust. “Up.”

The noises she was pulling out of you were insane — dirty, and so, so raw. And she relished in every second of it.

“You’re such a goddamn brat, y’know that?” She says through clenched teeth. “Huh?”

“Ellie—“ You whined, fingernails coming down on her arms, digging down into the flesh of her wrists.

“Answer me.” She hisses, thrusting so far into you that you jump. But her hold on you is strong; she was making sure that you weren’t going anywhere.

“Y-Yes!” You squealed. “Fuck— yes!”

Her hand balls up in your hair, pulling you back against the pillow so she could get the perfect view of your face.

“So fuckin’ slutty,” She mutters. “You gonna apologize for being a fuckin’ brat?”

“Y-Yeah—“

“Do it,” She grunts. “Tell me how sorry you are, and maybe I won’t fuck you into next week.”

A taunting chuckle escapes from her lips, green eyes flicking down to the way your mouth hung open in pleasure.

“Or maybe that’s what you want, huh?” She groans. “Want daddy to fuck you ‘til you can’t walk straight?”

You gasped, merely nodding your head. Your orgasm was close, and your mind was going foggy.

“Fucking say it,” Ellie grunts. “C’mon.”

“Yes, daddy,” You mewl, pussy clenching down hard as your eyes squeezed shut. “Pleasepleaseplease—“

“Fuuuck,” She drawls, pressing her face into your neck as she finds herself having to use more and more force to fully fuck herself past your grip. “Atta girl... so fucking good.”

Needless to say, it was gonna be a long night.

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie tlou2 #ellie x fem reader

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angelatsumu · 6 months

Text

thinking of husband!simon who can't get enough of making you cum. nsfw under the cut. | husband!simon, overstimulation (kinda), fingering

“surely you can give me another, lovie” your husband taunts you, eyes peering at your reflection in the mirror. he’s got your legs spread for him, trapped under his own legs as his fingers—middle and ring—find themselves curled deep within your cunt. he’s smirking at you teasingly while your head’s rested against his shoulder. normally he hates when your eyes break contact with his, but today he allows your brief reprieve from his gaze because he’s feeling generous. truthfully speaking, he knows he’ll be asking for ‘just one more’ at least two more times before you’re boneless before him. your lover curls his fingers along the spongy cushion buried within your walls, prodding the soft material with a coy grin splayed across his features. his eyes are sharp as he watches your hips wriggle against the assault in a weak attempt to free yourself. he’s feeling generous, so he lets that silly little action go unpunished. he figures he’ll tax you for each offense; give him one more for his troubles, sweet girl. you whine at the intoxicating thrusts of his digits against you, body overheating as the coil within your abdomen winds tight. the sounds of your squelching cunt makes your cheeks heat with embarrassment, only worsened with the teasing lilt of your husband’s filthy words in your ear. “doin’ so good for me, sweet girl. ‘s almost too much isn’t it, baby?” he sounds like pure sin, panting as though the sheer feel of your cunt squeezing his fingers would do him in. you both know it would; your lover could cum with the sheer feel of your cunt spasming around his tongue, let alone his fingers. he’s hard against your ass, and each wiggle and writhe of your sweet hips making him grunt deeply against your skin. the tightening in your cunt alongside the soft moans of his name let your lover know you’re so close to the edge, so close that you can practically already taste it. he knows, and he makes sure you reach that peak quicker by circling your hard, throbbing clit with his thumb. “oh, sweet girl,” your husband coos at you as your orgasms crests, leaving you trembling in his grasp. Simon’s a bit cruel with the way he thrusts his fingers harder against that sweet spot while spewing filthily in your ear. it’s too much, always too much when he’s this sexy and all yours before him. as you ride out your orgasm, he coaxes you into rocking your hips against his thick fingers. “ride my hand baby, watch yourself ride my fuckin’ hand,” he moans in your ear, free hand gripping your jaw and forcing your gaze to your reflection in the mirror. the sight is enough to have your cunt squeezing his fingers so tight he could barely move, huffs and whines slipping from your pretty lips while he continues his assault on your overstimulated cunt. “please, Si” you whimper with warmed cheeks, eyes pleadingly looking into his own. he lets out a gruff groan, relishing in the tears that speckle your lash line. “just one more,”he lies to you, and you whimper softly knowing it’d be far more than one before you were done.

a/n: rbs + likes greatly appreciated. also, taking requests. also also, if you'd like the insanely long (and kinda fanon/self-indulgent) oneshot i wrote for halloween!simon, lmk

#pup talks #simon <3 #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley smut #ghost cod smut #ghost smut #simon riley x you #ghost x reader smut #cod smut #cod drabble #simon riley drabble #pup’s thots #mine #simon riley hcs #mw2 drabble #ghost drabble

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charliemwrites · 16 days

Text

Mean Simon Part 4

CW: non-descriptive panic attack, followed by comfort and gaslighting; please be safe and careful 💕

Simon’s got a bit of a puzzle on his hands. More accurately, you’re a puzzle that’s not in his hands. And getting you there, of your own free will, is only part of it.

Sure, he could just grab you or order you. You would be helpless to his will either way. It would be simple and easy, but it wouldn’t be satisfying. Not as much as coaxing you into the trap by your own volition, anyway.

Once you were just a shy thing, now you’re downright skittish. Quick to bend the knee and bow your head, but you don’t relish in doing so. Johnny has been nothing but adoring and sweet to you, yet Simon notices you still resist flinching and tensing on contact. Never mind if Simon himself were to attempt the same, you’d work yourself into hysteria over a pat to the shoulder. Seducing you would be its own challenge - but that leaves the contradictory matter of training you.

You would be so good. He knows it.

You’re quick to learn, eager to please. But it comes from a place of fear and distrust. The former has its place, the latter its natural offspring - but neither suits Simon’s purpose in this instance. Punishment and discipline would only serve to reinforce the trenches in your mind. To stay quiet and unseen, to avoid Simon at all costs and tolerate Johnny out of self-preservation. That neither of them can be trusted, are not objects for your affection or desire. Only a facsimile with a pretty face, that makes pretty noises, and soothes Johnny with pretty touches. Nothing real; nothing either of them can actually sink their teeth into.

And so there lies the puzzle. He needs (wants) to train you into the sweet doll he knows you can be, but he has to do it in a way fundamentally different to his instinct - or he risks breaking you entirely.

Luckily, he’s a patient man. Your behavior has been acceptable so far with the barest monitoring. He has time to develop a strategy.

“Um… excuse me, Mister?” you soft voice calls.

He grunts, turning his eyes to you. You shift, fingers twisting together tightly.

“I can’t, um… so there’s a light out? In the kitchen?”

He tilts his head, waiting for you to continue.

“And I don’t know where the bulbs are,” you finish.

He tilts his head. “You didn’t go looking?”

You shake out your hands a bit, shifting. “I didn’t know if I, um, if I should? Snooping, and all…”

Simon tries to recall if he’s ever implied that you shouldn’t go through the house. He knows he explicitly warned you not to go in his bedroom and the garage. But you’ve inferred it somehow, likely from those first few months after he got you for Johnny - when he would have had some objection to you treating the house as if it were your own.

You’re well past that by now, though. Spend more time here than either of them, cleaning and cooking and sleeping. In fact, he’s surprised you haven’t stumbled across the bulbs sooner.

“Hall closet by my room.”

You hesitate for another moment. “And is there, um… a step stool anywhere…?”

He blinks. “No.”

“Oh. Uhh…” you jolt a bit. “Oh! I’ll just use a dining chair. Thank you! Um, sir.”

You dart away before he can reply. That’s going to be the first bad habit he breaks, he decides.

For lack of sating himself with you, Johnny’s been especially needy. Simon accounted for this, of course, and despite it being a punishment, he’s not so cruel as to leave Johnny hanging. It’s meant to be a learning experience too.

So Johnny is still allowed to cuddle with you (to some extent) and exchange kisses (in moderation) while Simon takes the edge off the ever-burning inferno that is his libido. Sniper he may be, Simon might have miscalculated regardless. He’s already touched-out for the day.

You’re in the kitchen, prepping for a nicer dinner at Simon’s request before their next deployment. It’ll take a couple hours to cook, so you’re assembling everything early. Or at least trying to - because Johnny will not leave you the fuck alone.

He’s underfoot, making a nuisance of himself. Kissing at your neck and face, wrapping himself around you while you bustle about, stealing ingredients off of cutting boards, talking in your ear nonstop. Most days you wouldn’t mind - or would appear that way, at least. But today is not most days.

Simon is sitting on a stool on the other side of the counter when you reach capacity.

With Johnny still plastered to your back, you try to reach for something (for the umpteenth time) and trip over his feet. You knock over an open carton of stock, splattering translucent brown all over the floors, counters, cabinets, and yourselves.

“Fuck,” you cry, “Johnny.”

Your voice breaks on his name. Johnny freezes. Simon can see fault lines in every inch of your stiff body. How carefully you manage each movement as you disentangle yourself from Johnny and usher him away from the worst of the mess. You’re about to fall apart.

“Och, I’m sorry, hen. Lemme help—“

“It’s alright,” you interrupt, chin low as you pivot, snagging the paper towels off the counter. “I’ve got it. Just… stay there.”

Johnny opens his mouth to protest, about to help anyway, but Simon tuts in disapproval.

The kitchen is smothered in an awful silence as you clean, Johnny growing more shame-faced with each rip of the towel roll.

Unobstructed, you manage to clean up in only a couple of minutes, making an extra pass with a damp towel to wipe up any residue. When you’re finished, you wet another and offer it to Johnny to wipe off. Then do the same for yourself. Always, you keep your face obscured or hidden, body oriented away, tight and rigid.

When you spin to gather up the dirty towels, Simon sees how your eyes glimmer. You remember he’s there too at the same time.

“Sir, I’m so sorry. I d-don’t, um…” you have to take a breath to gather your voice. “There’s not enough for dinner now.”

Simon considers that for a beat.

“Johnny’ll run out ‘n get more.”

You swallow thickly. “Okay. I’m sorry, sir.”

“‘S not your fault. Kitchen only needed one cook, yeah?”

You make a noise that, if he was hard of hearing and listening through earmuffs, could almost be agreement.

“I-I’m gonna go wash off…” you rub your hands together nervously. “If that’s alright.”

“G’on.”

You’re gone in an instant. Simon can already hear you sniffling. He stands.

Johnny turns huge, pathetic eyes on him.

“‘M sorry, Si. Really, I didn’t mean to—“

“But you did,” Simon interrupts sharply. “Because you were being a rude little shit and playing too rough.”

Johnny gulps, looks a bit misty-eyed himself. Simon sighs and scrubs an exasperated hand through his mohawk.

“Go get the stock,” he orders, milder. “And an extra treat for the sweetie. Something actually for her. Understood?”

Johnny always does better with clear instructions. He perks up at being given a mission - and an avenue for making things up to you. He hurries off with a pep in his step.

Simon waits until the door is shut before seeking you out. You’re in the bathroom, as you said you would be. He can hear you muffling cries behind the door.

He taps his knuckles twice against the wood. It goes dead silent.

“Jus’ me,” he calls.

There’s a quick splash of water, the flutter of fabric, and then you crack the door open. Your face is cry-flushed, eyes red-rimmed and still glossy. You can’t look past his chest, mouth curved down.

“I-I’m really sorry about the-the mess, and dinner, and…”

“Stop apologizing,” he says, gentling his voice to take the edge off the command. “If there was something to be sorry for, you’d know.”

You swipe quickly at a tear that squeezes out. He tsks softly.

“Bit strung out today, eh?”

“Just… didn’t sleep well, is all,” you answer. “And I didn’t get a chance to nap.”

Right, he’s noted that, in the back of his mind. That you spend small portions of the day sleeping. Usually an hour or two at a time. But Johnny’s been so high maintenance today that you’ve hardly had a moment of peace.

“Cranky? Is that it?” he asks.

You look more miserable. “Just tired,” you answer.

He hums. Willing to bet it’s more than just a bad night of sleep. Poor thing.

“Sor - I mean… I know I’m not supposed to…” you rub at your eyes, drooping.

He tilts his head. “Not s’posed to what?”

“Cry or-or be annoying or…”

He coos. “You’ve got all these rules for yourself, don’t you?”

You sniffle again, hugging yourself tightly as you shrug.

The hunter in Simon perks. There.

“Look’it.” He takes your chin between thumb and forefinger, guiding your gaze up to his.

You blink slowly, heavily, wet lashes sticking together.

“What sort of terrible world have you built up in your mind, hm?” he soothes. “Never told you not to do any of that, did I?”

You blink, confused and upset.

“N-no, I guess… not.”

“No,” he confirms. “You’re spun up so tight you’re starting to fray, little one.”

You shudder, swaying into him a bit. He used the movement to slide his hand to your jaw, massaging his thumb into the tight muscle by your ear.

“From now on, you only follow the rules I give you, yeah?” he says, low and quiet. “Dunno why you think I’m so mean. I won’t punish you if you don’t know better.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, as if trying to resist the hypnotic lull of letting someone else think for you. But you still lean into his palm.

“How’s this,” he offers, “if you’re ever unsure, you ask me. Wont get mad at you for asking. Yeah?”

And finally, that wire twisted up between your shoulder blades loosens.

“Yes, sir.”

Johnny comes home with a chocolate cupcake. Simon approves it before sending him to you, decompressing on the couch with a cuppa.

You blink as Johnny drops heavily to his knees, placing the packaged cupcake in your hand.

“Lass, I’m sorry for bein’ so rough,” he begins, bowing his forehead to your knees. “Dinnae mean to, but I still upset ye, interrupted dinner when ye were workin’ so hard.” He tilts his face up, hitting you with the full force of his apologetic blue eyes. “Forgive me?”

You mouth parts, genuine shock washing over your features. “Y-yeah, Johnny, of course. I know you didn’t mean to. I was just having a bad day.”

But that doesn’t mollify him.

“I couldnae tell. You were just… goin’ on as usual.��

“I know. It’s okay.”

You set your tea aside to place your hand over his, trying to reassure him. But Simon knows his pup and you’ve just unwittingly put a thorn in his paw.

“I’ll get back to dinner now.” You lean in, drop a kiss to Johnny’s furrowed brow. “Thank you for apologizing. And the cupcake.”

Johnny stands with you. “At least let me help proper this time?”

You smile, though it’s tinged with exhaustion. “Sure. C’mon.”

Simon takes his place at the counter again and keeps a careful eye on you both. Things are a lot smoother this time round. Johnny follows your quiet instructions, happy to be useful. You seem to settle with dinner plans back on track.

Once everything is set to slow cook, Simon herds you and Johnny back to the den.

“Pick a movie, lamb.”

You blink from the corner of the couch you’ve curled up in. “Me?”

“You.”

You seem so surprised that you just blurt out a title. Simon hums and queues it up while Johnny all but interrogates you for the plot. As the opening scenes flicker across the screen, you snuggle in further, even tugging a blanket off the back of the couch to bundle up on.

Johnny shoots you a longing look - you’re too engrossed in the movie - so Simon snags him by the back of the neck and tucks him into his side.

You fall asleep two-thirds of the way through, but Simon lets you. Likes watching you breathe, face soft and smooth. Can’t for the life of him even recall what’s on the telly.

That night, after a quiet (but peaceful) dinner, and everyone’s showers, Simon ushers Johnny to the room he usually shares with you. Hope flickers across the pup’s face, confusion and trepidation across yours.

“In the middle, Johnny,” Simon rumbles. “The little one by the window.”

You and Johnny comply, cuddling in. Simon takes the side closest to the door, grunting a bit when Johnny instantly clings on.

“Is this the new arrangement?” Johnny asks eagerly.

“Go to sleep,” Simon answers.

He grumbles, but settles in. On the other side of the bed, there’s a bit of shuffling. Then your voice whispering, “Good night.”

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #dark fic #mean simon ghost riley #mean simon #john soap mctavish x reader #simon ghost riley x john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley x reader #ghoap x reader #panic attack #tw gaslighting

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batterygarden · 2 months

Text

love is in the air . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

contents: big bro! yuuta x fem & afab reader, dead dove do not eat, sex pollen, incest, virginity loss (reader), drugged sex vibes, unprotected sex w cream pies, size kink w slight pain, oral f!receiving, overstimulation, dacryphilia, 3.2 k words. hbd to my king

18+, minors dni please

When Yuuta’s teleported into his room, he’s horrified to see you already there.

You’re wearing his clothes, as per usual, and flopped across his bed while you do your homework—likely waiting for him to get home to help you with the math. Normally, this wouldn’t be out of the ordinary; the two of you have always been close and Yuuta doesn’t mind the way you tend to loiter. The thing is, you were supposed to be out shopping with your girlfriends after class today. You’ve been talking up these plans all month–-Yuuta never imagined you’d cancel.

And here he is, high off his ass on cursed aphrodisiacs (misted straight into his lungs by some flower monster) and contemplating every forbidden fantasy in his arsenal with a newfound urgency.

You jump nearly a foot in the air when you see him, so perfectly still and silent at first that he goes unnoticed.

“Oh my god, nii-san! You scared me!”

You don’t seem to catch how off he is yet, how labored his breaths come or how he’s covered in a sheen of sweat. He wishes you would. Maybe then the proper alarm bells would be ringing and you’d leave.

Yuuta only backs away, shoving hair from his face while his eyes dart all over the room, anywhere to avoid drifting to your body and the way his t-shirt pools around it.

His fatal mistake is his failure to beeline it straight out his bedroom door. In his defense, Yuuta’s thoughts are awfully foggy, and an escape route is hard to pin down, even within his moderately-sized room. Instead he trips over a book bag and lets himself tumble backwards to the floor, his katana thunking loudly when it drops from his shoulder.

His vision and hearing are a bit foggy, too, as he watches you approach him off his bed, almost appearing to move in slow motion.

“Nii-San? What happened to you?”

He makes a strangled sound when you reach to touch his face, leaning away from your hand.

“Just lost my balance! I’m okay. Y’shouldn’t touch me right now.”

Did his words come out slurred?

You frown, letting him know the fall wasn’t what you meant when you were asking, practically pinning him against the wall to feel his forehead.

“Hmm. I can’t tell if you have a fever or you’re just hot.”

“It’s probably nothing. Was fighting a curse earlier and—achoo!“

Yuuta turns away to sneeze just as you move your head to the side to look at him closer. He accidentally sneezes directly into your face, earning a little gasp.

He scoots away frantically then.

“Sorry, sorry! I don’t wanna get you sick, okay? I need to be alone. You can leave.”

You wipe at your face, holding back a giggle at the state of him. You haven’t seen Yuuta this impaired since he had the flu when you were kids.

“Nii-san, you need me to take care of you.” Your tone is matter of fact, but doting too. Deep down you’re relishing in this role reversal—Yuuta’s always the one looking after you, not the other way around.

He starts shaking his head, rubbing tiredly at his eyes when suddenly a wave of vertigo hits you.

Then you’re tumbling to the floor with him.

Your voice sounds far away when you breathe a little woah, taking longer than you should to register what’s just happened. When you do, you turn to Yuuta—a reflex whenever you’re hurt or something goes wrong—you’ve grown spoiled by his overprotective nature. So much so that even the tiniest stumbles have you expecting a warm, calloused hand beneath your elbow, lifting and steadying you.

Yuuta takes longer than he should to come into the focus of your eyes, and when he does you find his face buried in one of his hands while his other adjusts his pants.

“Are you okay?” He sounds breathless, making no move to touch you or help. Something is seriously up.

“Mhm. I don’t know why I just…” You pause, almost forgetting what you’re even saying while your thoughts navigate a new fog. Suddenly you’re warm. “I dunno what came over me.”

Yuuta only scoots a bit farther away in response, dragging himself along the wall. To you it’s almost like he’s moving in slow motion.

“Nii-san, something is wrong. I feel wrong.”

Yuuta’s breaths come in huffs when you drag yourself to him then, nuzzling your way between his bent legs.

“M-me too… that’s why I want you to go.”

You shake your head, staring at Yuuta while he stares back, squirming and uncomfortable under your gaze. The warmth inside you is starting to grow uncomfortable—almost painful between your legs. You wonder if this is exactly how Yuuta’s feeling before you consider the possibility that he may be even worse, having been infected with whatever strange illness this is before he even arrived. He’s really working to hold out on you—what a gentleman.

In fact, you think, that might be the perfect word to describe your sweet big brother. Always looking out for you more than anyone else, Yuuta sets a bar for chivalry unattainable by any man who isn’t him.

He’s always opening your doors and offering you rides. Holding your hand to cross the street, tugging you back if you try to cross without looking and, occasionally, shoving your tangled fingers in his coat pocket if it’s chilly. He always has this protective nature when other men are involved, glaring at wandering eyes and warning you of potential danger (you recall one time he tripped some guy who asked for your number as he was walking away—he was too old for you and clearly had bad intentions).

Then there’s the way he’s thoughtful. Even when you were kids, Yuuta was always getting you gifts, setting time aside from his busy schedule to play with you or take you somewhere—forging some of your favorite memories growing up. You think particularly fondly of all your old dance recitals—how yuuta would always make time to be there and give you flowers and praise (out of all the bouquets your family supplied, his were the only ones that ever earned a spot on your night stand).

Even now you’ve got a vase of pink roses in your bedroom down the hall for passing your latest algebra test.

Yeah, Yuuta’s a chivalrous brother to a tee.

And the heat in your veins has you wishing he’d be anything but.

“Y-yuuta. I need you.” Your hands reach to pull at the open buttons of his uniform, but your wrists are quickly shackled by strong hands, gentle but unyielding.

“Do you know what you’re asking?” His voice is steady for the first time since appearing in his room, albeit a little pained.

“Yes. Yeah I do.”

You scoot closer, and Yuuta’s entire aura seems to change, darkening in a way that leaves goosebumps crawling across your flesh.

Your wrists are freed but you still feel immobilized as Yuuta grabs you carefully by the neck then, tugging your face to his till his lips can capture yours for the very first time.

You can’t deny that you’ve fantasized about kissing Yuuta, if only on the rare occasions that you loosened the reins on your self control. The kiss feels as electric and all-consuming as you’d hoped, hungry like you’re trying to swallow each other whole. His lips are a bit chapped, rougher than yours and hot in a way you’ll surely imprint into your psyche. What surprises you, though, is Yuuta’s brashness; he’s not reserved like you used to imagine he’d be if he kissed you. He’s being selfish, sucking on your lips and licking inside your mouth like you’re his—and when his teeth sink into the plump of your bottom lip you start to realize that maybe you always have been.

Yuuta’s kiss is needy and passionate, but it clearly doesn’t sate him as rough palms travel over your body throughout, kneading your sides and your arms and your thighs till you're rearranged on top of him, straddling where he needs you most.

You’re instinctually grinding down on him once you are, your insides painfully empty and sensitive so that the hard feeling of him through his pant fabric pressing against your clit is the most satisfying feeling you’ve ever had. He’s quickly grabbing at your hips to help push your core against him, and that angle of pressure paired with his attentive mouth against yours has you cumming in minutes, crying out into his mouth while he grips you harshly like a ragdoll, eventually mouthing at your jaw and throat so you can breathe again. It’s the kind of orgasm that has your senses short-circuiting, your vision going in and out of focus while your hearing turns fuzzy—it’s intense and euphoric. You feel drugged.

It’s unnatural how you’re instantly needy again once you come down, panting and light-headed but impatient when you scoot back to reach for his belt. Yuuta’s hand stops yours.

“Hang on—”

“Please! Nii-san, I can’t wait, I need you—”

“I know, let me—“ he interrupts himself to peck your lips again. You want him to never stop doing that—the satisfaction is addicting. “Let me give you head first.”

Those words knock the wind from your lungs. Because now is the first time you truly reckon with a truth you’ve been avoiding… Yuuta is experienced. You don’t know who or when (as far as you’re aware he’s never had a steady girlfriend) but the way he says those words makes it clear. Yuuta has made a woman cum. The idea brings a wave of jealousy you usually keep carefully buried—it’s an unspoken rule yuuta doesn’t mention his romantic affairs, so the reality of his sex life is something you’ve avoided.

“I’m a virgin.” The words bubble out of you uncontrollably. Yuuta chuckles just a little before giving another quick kiss.

“I know. That’s why I’m gonna go down on you.”

The effects of whatever aphrodisiac you’ve been exposed to clearly haven’t waned as Yuuta manhandles you into a position of his liking before he finishes his sentence—neither of you have gained the common sense necessary to move yourselves off the floor to Yuuta’s bed a yard away. Yuuta’s still the most aggressive you’ve ever felt him as he lays you down, trailing kisses and occasional bites down your skin till he makes his way to his own boxers that rest over your hips. You catch a little glare when he spots them, a week ago he told you to stop borrowing these—you’re my little sister! It’s not appropriate.

How ironic, he doesn’t chastise you as he yanks those very same boxers down his little sister’s legs. Then he tosses them aside—not even commenting on how you got them all messy—and instantly sets to work, lapping at your pussy like a man starved.

It isn’t an experience to be taken lightly—the first lick of your brother's tongue has you moaning like a pornstar. You have to grip the roots of Yuuta’s soft hair for stability as his mouth sends electricity through your body, pleasure radiating from your cunt all throughout you till you’re not sure you know what to do with it all. Once he latches to your clit, sucking it like a pacifier while his pretty lashes blink closed in content, you can’t help but come undone again—your orgasm intense and lasting even longer than the last time—this feeling is addicting.

Yuuta licks up as much of your release as he can when you do, then he’s quickly rising up, wiping his face with an arm before tugging off his shirt.

You feel like the luckiest sister in the universe when you finally come back to earth to watch him, his sculpted body glistening in sweat as he reveals more and more skin—all for you.

Yuuta’s pants are tugged off next, but not all the way. He gets impatient once they’re low enough for his cock to be freed, stroking it shamelessly, coating it in the mess he made from cumming in his pants.

Your eyes go wide when you see his size.

“S-sorry I know t’s a lot. Are you doing okay?”

There’s a silent but in there, an unspoken i still need more.

You nod quickly, spreading your bent legs so he has full access—it’s true that you’ve cum hard enough twice to pass out for days, but your body is insatiable. Yuuta’s cock is what it truly wants; you won’t—can’t—rest till you get it.

Yuuta’s wasting no time—clearly as needy for you as you are for him. He’s already leaning over you, running his tip through your folds before you can find the desperate words to reply, “Need you inside me, Yuu.”

That’s as much confirmation as Yuuta needs before he thrusts, stretching your virgin hole till it molds to fit him. There’s a pinch, a sting that pricks tears in your eyes as you accommodate his thick girth, but it’s replaced by the pure relief of him in a matter of seconds. You whine when he bottoms out, your body clenching and grinding towards him of its own volition—again, you’re insatiable. Luckily Yuuta seems to be on the same page as he quickly pulls almost completely out of you, earning a louder whine before slamming back in, hitting a deep, warm spot that has your vision blurring.

It’s ruthless and mean the way he starts beating your cunt then—you can’t help but contrast it to the way Yuuta rocked you in his lap just a night ago to soothe you through a scary thunderstorm. This man, the one snapping his hips against your hole with bruising force and no breaks, is a different man completely.

You want to meet him halfway, to contribute to creating the absolute bliss that his cock quickly brings you, but your body can hardly keep up once Yuuta gets going. He’s so fast and strong, the most you can do is lay there and take it, clawing at his shoulders and back in a way that matches his animalistic energy.

Maybe a minute is all it takes before your body comes undone around Yuuta’s cock. Almost too eagerly and certainly the fastest you’ve ever cum before—it would be embarrassing if it weren’t for Yuuta’s loud, wanton moan at the feel of it.

“F-fuck your pussy’s too tight! Why does it feel so—ngh good—“ Yuuta fills you up for the first time then, flooding your insides with his creamy seed before you even finish twitching from your own release. The heat of your big brother’s cum in your tummy is irreplaceable—you fall in love with the feeling and don’t want it ever to leave.

Luckily Yuuta’s not done, he’s still hard even after he pumps you full, and his movements don’t relent, in fact it almost feels like he’s fucking you deeper.

“Y-yuuta it’s so much…” you manage to say through the stuffed sensation that reaches your throat.

You’re still crazy with want, you feel like you’d die if he stopped, and yet your mysterious sex-craze does nothing to counteract the overstimulation.

“‘M sorry, ‘m really sorry I can’t stop,” Yuuta pries your weak legs up while he talks, folding you up in a mating press. You don’t have the words to reassure him that it’s fine, that you need this, because then you’re coming undone again, throbbing wildly on Yuuta’s cock while your eyes roll back in your head. Yuuta cums with you shortly after, and something in you rejoices that he’s filling you with more of himself—that he’s irreversibly spilling into your most intimate parts.

He pulls out after that, and your legs go limp—all of you lifeless except your twitching, leaking cunt. It’s a good thing Yuuta’s still needy though, because even if your legs lack the strength to hold him, your insides are devastated by the lack of him—it’s wrong that he’s not still inside you.

“Yuuta—“ you start to protest before he’s manhandling you, dragging you till you’re half draped across his bed, shoving your school books and pencils out of the way. It’s like you’re partially standing, bent forward with your tummy against the mattress, but you let your legs dangle limply while you lay, unable to hold yourself.

“I know pretty,” he replies, spreading your messy thighs and cunt before shoving himself back inside you, “can’t be done.”

The sound his cock makes is obscene as it spreads you open again, paired with the whine you let out at the sensitive feeling mixed with relief. The new angle yuuta reaches makes you feel stuffed all the way to your chest.

Yuuta doesn’t waste time before he’s pumping into you as relentlessly as before, pulling easy orgasms from you again and again till your hips are bruised from his hands and his comforter is soaked with your tears and snot and cum.

Yuuta’s crying too by the time he cums a final time, gasping and whining while he fills you with what feels like his entire remaining life force, eventually using the last of his energy to pull out with a wince and collapse on the bed, pulling you up so you’re all the way on the bed next to him. You both lose consciousness finally.

When Yuuta wakes he’s under unusual covers, and finds his vision illuminated by a pink night light—it takes him a minute to recognize that he’s in your room.

But he’s still naked. He sits up with a gasp, reaching for you as the events of evening come flooding back to him, but you’re nowhere to be found—he realizes you must have coaxed him in here for some reason then left. The clock beside him reads five in the morning, but considering how early the two of you passed out the night before, it’s not surprising you’d clearly already woken.

Yuuta sips from a cup of water on your nightstand, then finds a used bath towel you’ve got hooked on your door and wraps it around his hips, venturing dizzily out into the apartment.

He hears the laundry machine going, and passes his room to find his bed stripped of sheets, the mess from your school supplies cleaned up.

Then he finds you in the kitchen with wet hair, clean clothes and an apron, flipping pancakes.

You look delighted when you see him—more than usual—with a sweet smile and giant pupils.

“Yuuta! Made you breakfast.” You say making your way to him.

Not that Yuuta’s had much time to think on it, (he wasn’t worrying over his future when your tight pussy was milking his drugged senses yesterday, that’s for sure), but in the back of his mind, he was sure that fucking you would have irreparable effects on your relationship. You’d always love each other, of that much he was certain—you had a mutual trust in that department for sure. But he was also sure things would be awkward, maybe you’d need space at first and wouldn’t look at him the same.

But then you hop your way over to him once he walks into the kitchen, rubbing hands up his bare chest before locking your arms behind his neck, reaching up on tiptoes to kiss his lips. And it’s not just a peck, either. And the curse’s aphrodisiacs have worn off.

And maybe, the irreparable effects from last night aren’t going to be so awkward after all.

#yuuta x reader #jjk x reader #yuuta smut #jjk smut #yuta x reader #yuta x y/n #🐞 writes #tw.incest #tw.sex pollen #tw.drugged sex #🐞 q

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starstruckmiraclekitty · 1 year

Note

Ur smut is getting soooo good. Could you do a scenario for the 141 and Konig where the fem reader rides them? Like pure fucking filth.

Only if you're OK with it!

Ahhh🙈 this is literal trash, but I hope you enjoy!! There's literally no plot to this, lol.

141 + König With Fem!Reader Riding Them

Warnings: literal smut, p in v sex, oral (m receiving) cream pie, swearing

Simon Ghost Riley-

"Bloody fucking hell." Simon groaned, his head thrown back into the pillows behind him. You were on top of him, riding him like your life depended on it.

His grip on your waist was bruising, but you were too far gone to care. He was watching you with intent, his eyes never leaving yours.

Knowing how much Simon loved to watch his cock being swallowed whole by your pussy, you leaned back, resting your hands on his thighs to stabilize yourself, and continued to move your hips up and down.

Simon nearly came right then. The change in position allowed him to hit at an angle that had you both seeing stars. You whined loudly, mouth open gasping for air, as your head was thrown back.

The sight was unlike anything Simon had ever seen. Your body was glistening with sweat, moving up and down in a set rhythm. He couldn't stop staring down at how well your pussy was taking him, and he couldn't help himself when his index finger moved on its own to start rubbing circles on your clit.

"O-Oh my God, Simon!" You were so close to your orgasm, and so was he. He could feel you clenching down on his cock. Your finger nails raked into his thighs, causing Simon to hiss.

Your movements started to get sloppy as you desperately chased your high. Simon sat up and enclosed his hand around the base of your throat, lightly putting pressure there, just enough to have you gasping.

You slowed your movements, moving in circles before your orgasm washed through you, causing your cunt to squeeze Simon's cock. He convulsed as his own orgasm hit him, his grasp tightening around your throat as his cock pulsed inside you.

You pulled away after a moment, both of you needing to catch your breath. As you started to move off him, Simon's breath hitched in his throat at the sight of cum dripping from you.

This triggered something feral in him, and he grabbed your waist throwing you underneath him. "Can't let any of this go to waste, yeah? Be a good girl and let me fuck it back in you."

Johnny Soap MacTavish-

"S-slown down lass." Johnny practically begged. You were bouncing up and down on his cock at a speed he couldn't catch up with.

He was trying so hard not to cum too quickly, as he wanted to enjoy this moment for as long as possible. It wasn't often you were on top in bed, but my God he was going to relish in it. Especially when you were doing so well.

You grabbed one of Johnny's hands that was gripping your waist, and brought it up to your mouth. You gave him a sultry look, before taking his index finger in your mouth, sucking lightly.

"Steamin Jesus." Johnny's eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he felt his resolve slipping away quickly. He was on the verge of an orgasm, and you knew it.

You gave his finger a bite, before running your tongue along the pad of it, your eyes never leaving his. You started to move your hips in a circular motion, and Johnny's self control snapped.

He ripped his finger from your mouth, and grabbed your waist, grounding himself to pound up into you, a load grown emitting from his lips as he came inside you, painting your walls white with his cum.

You gave a soft moan, and continued to move up and down, milking his cock for everything you could, causing a whine to come from your boyfriend.

"Fucking beautiful you are. Gonna have to have you on top from now on." He breathed out, throwing his head back into the pillows. He flipped the two of you over, so that he was hovering on top of you.

"My turn now though, princess." He smirked at you before moving his head between your legs, staying there nearly the entire night.

John Price-

"Atta girl, use my cock, that's it." John cooed as you rode him in his office chair.

Your legs were tucked around his thighs, as he was sitting up right in the chair, and the angle allowed his cock to hit at deeper angles than normal.

"Feels s-so good, daddy." You cried out, your fingers making their way to John's hair and tugging the strands harshly.

John groaned and threw his face in between your tits, exhaling deeply. "Come on then, cum on my cock baby girl."

He grabbed one of your nipples in between his teeth and bit down before soothing his tongue over the sting. Your grip on his hair grew harsher, and the little mewl you let out, nearly ruined him.

He felt himself nearing the edge and wanted you right there with him. "Doing so well baby, keep using daddy's cock, go on."

You continued to bounce up and down, your tits bouncing in John's face. Your legs started to shake, thighs squeezing against his as you felt your orgasm approaching rapidly.

John felt your walls clench around him, and that was all that was needed to send him over the edge. He groaned into your flesh and bit down on your tit, hard.

You screamed out his name as your own orgasm hit you, the two of you cumming together.

"You did so good, sweetheart." He praised, giving light kisses to your tits. Your chest was beyond bruised from his marks, but neither of you could care. "Why don't you bend over on the desk. Gotta make sure I return the favor."

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

"Shit, you feel so good, love." Gaz cried. The two of you were currently in his gaming chair, as you were unable to wait for him to finish his game to fuck you, you took matters into your own hands.

You were seated on him with your back facing his chest, the game he was playing was long forgotten by now.

He moved his hands to your front and grabbed at your tits, kneading them softly. You moaned, throwing your head back to Gaz's shoulder. "So good, baby."

The sounds in the room were obscene. Between the chair squeaking from your movements, the soft moans from you and Gaz and the wet sounds of your pussy, the room was anything but quiet. But you fucking loved it.

You pulled yourself forward and rested your arms on Gaz's desk, and quickened your pace at the new angle.

Gaz was sputtering, unable to form a coherent sentence. "Fff-uckkk."

He raked his nails along your back, breaking the skin in some areas, causing you to squeal. "Kyle!"

You felt the coil in your belly tighten, and snap, as your orgasm tore through you.

Kyle's own orgasm wasn't far behind as he dug his nails into the flesh of your waist and gasped as he spilled himself inside you.

After taking a moment to come down from your high, you turned to look at Kyle with a smile before standing up.

"You can go back to your game now, babe." You pressed a teasing kiss to his nose as you walked away.

"Fuck the game." He turned off the console and made his way to you, moving to toss you over his shoulder.

Needless to say, neither one of you got very much sleep that night.

König-

"Maus, Scheiße." König let out a small cry as you fucked yourself stupid on his cock.

He barely had time to catch his breath, as the rhythm you set was brutal. He was laying at the edge of your bed, legs resting on the floor, as your full weight was on him.

He was in awe when you'd asked to be on top tonight, and he certainly wasn't expecting it to be this good. He was so pussy drunk he couldn't even think straight.

He sat up to look at you, and saw you rubbing your clit, your eyes closed and bottom lip tucked in between your teeth.

König groaned at the sight, moving to palm at your bouncing breasts. "I'm gonna cum, Schatz."

You nodded your head weakly, too fucked out to give a proper response. You'd been so horny for days waiting for him to be home that you'd jumped on him the minute he came home. It didn't take long for both of you to find your release within one another.

With one final move of your hips the two of you were gone. Your pussy clenched around his cock, milking out his own orgasm, as the two of you moaned loudly.

König was shaking as his orgasm left him, and captured your lips in a bruising kiss.

You gave a devilish glance to your husband before moving to get on your knees in front of him. "What are you doing, Maus?" He breathed.

"I've got to clean up my mess, don't I?" You asked as you sank your mouth down on his cock.

It didn't take long before he was cumming again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Yeah I'm still shit at smut, but I hope you guys enjoyed anyway😅🤣

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lightsoutletsgo · 1 month

Text

names the f1 drivers would call their partner ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

word count: 2k

warnings: cheesy cringy fluff I just thought this was a cute little idea so I decided to turn it into a whole post of it's own! I noticed that I've kind of started assigning names to specific drivers just because that's the vibe I get from them! as always this is entirely personal opinion. happy reading! mimi ₊˚❀.ೃ࿔*:･ it isn't all the drivers bc I don't write for the entire grid but if you wanted to see one driver in particular then pls send in a request and I'll see what I can do!

cl.16 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔ Ma belle (my beautiful or my lovely) Simple and sounds divine when it rolls off the tongue with the French accent! Charles can't remember when he first called you the name because it's all he ever calls you! He adores the way you smile when you hear it and knowing you like it just as much as he does makes him say it again and again and again.

"Ma belle" is the first thing you hear as your eyes slowly blink open in the morning light. You smile happily with a hum as Charles' lips press against your cheek slowly, "Good morning ma belle, how did you sleep hmm?" With a giggle you roll over to look at him properly, "You know I always sleep better when you're home, handsome." You poke his nose gently and it scrunches up before he's pulling you into his arms, hating that you're not as close as possible to him, "Well then ma belle, let's sleep a little longer..."

cs.55 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔ Princesa (princess) It's classic and sweet without being too cringy! Carlos originally started calling you princesa as a joke but found that he actually quite liked it. You're his princess and so giving you that title only made sense! Carlos swears his heart melts when you pout up at him and he realises all over again he's more than happy to keep calling you his princess.

"Carlooooos!" You whined, "My feet hurt..." You pouted as you squatted down on the pavement, unable to take another step. "Princesa..." Carlos sighed, "I told you those shoes would hurt your feet." You stared up at him, bottom lip jutting out, "I can't walk anymore..." Carlos chuckled and rubbed his thumb over your bottom lip gently, "Here, princesa," He guided you up and over to a nearby bench before kneeling in front of you. You sighed as his warm hands eased your shoes off of your feet, "Better?" You nodded, "I'm going to get the car, it's just around the corner okay?" You smiled at him, "Thank you." "Of course princesa... And when we get home I'll run you a bath and give you a foot rub, okay?"

ln.4 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔ Sunshine Cute and different. Lando has many names for you that all depend on both of your moods and the situation; jellybean, pretty girl, babe, mamas, peach, but sunshine is his favourite. He tells you it's because you're his little piece of Monaco sunshine when he's far away from home and missing you. He draws his inspiration from lazy mornings spent with you in the bed of your shared Monaco apartment, the sun dappling soft patterns on your skin as his lips chase the sunlight.

"Hi sunshine..." You giggle as Lando's scruff tickles your bare shoulder, relishing in the way his lips trace a line of soft kisses across your back as the sunlight pours in through the floaty net curtains. You roll over and loop your arms around his neck, "Good morning gorgeous..." You nuzzle your nose into his and he presses a kiss to your cheek, humming happily as the sun warms the room. "What are your plans for the day?" He asks, desperately hoping that they revolve around him, you contemplate for a moment before rolling over on top of him, "Nothing at all!" Lando finds himself breathless as he gazes at you, the morning light highlighting the colour of your eyes, the glow of your skin and making your lips look so damn kissable. He knows that when he's far away from home, this is what he'll remember. His own slice of heaven and his very own sunshine.

op.81 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔ Angel sweet and gives you butterflies! Is very nice to hear in all sorts of settings and moods... The first time he saw you, Oscar thought you looked like an angel and though it took him a while to pluck up the courage to call you angel for the first time, it's now the name he always uses for you! Even when you're not around he still refers to you as his angel (much to Lando's annoyance because he thinks you two are icky sometimes).

"Hey angel!" You gave a watery smile at your boyfriend through the call, hating that he was so far away, "have you been crying?" You nodded slowly, knowing how guilty Oscar felt leaving you behind. "I'm sorry angel... Hey," he said lowly, "I left one of my hoodies in your wardrobe, why don't you go grab it?" Following his instructions you grabbed the hoodie and cuddled into bed, holding it up to your nose and desperately trying to imagine he was there with you, "You look so cute angel..." You giggled, "Even when I'm all teary and snotty and sad?" "Especially then!" He beamed back at you, "Who you talking to Oscah?" You heard his teammate's voice drift through the phone, "Just talking to my angel." Oscar cooed, earning a groan from Lando that had you and Oscar bursting into giggles, "You're not even here in the same room and you're still being mushy!"

ls.2 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔ Baby Simple and understated Logan likes to keep things simple but sweet and so baby is his go-to name for you. He's worked out that it suits a variety of situations and moods whether you're feeling happy, down, excited, angry or... needy. 'Baby' is usually followed up with a quick smooch to the cheek or forehead.

"Babyyyy?" Logan dragged out the last syllable, sitting next to you on the couch, "Babe? You can't stay mad at me forever!" He whined, flopping down onto the pillows. "My last brownie Logan. The last one." You hmmphed, crossing your arms for emphasis, "Baby I'm sorry! I didn't realise it was the last one..." You looked at Logan who now sat up next to you looking very dejected. You sighed, "It's okay," "Thank you so much baby," he kissed your cheek, "I will never eat your brownies again no matter how many are there." You giggled as he gave a mock salute, "Now, go put your shoes on baby, we're going to go and get more brownies!"

gr.63 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔ My love Classic and to the point! It’s sweet without feeling like too much. With or without the ‘my’ it still feels intimate.George knew not long after you’d started dating there would never be any other name for you. He loves saying it even when you’re out and around other people, it’s not too much that it’s cringy or awkward but it lets people know just how important you are to him. Sometimes he’ll drop the ‘my’ and just call you love, but even that is enough to have your cheeks heating up and to make you bite your bottom lip through a smile.

“My love?” You heard George call out as the door to your shared apartment opened, “In the kitchen!” You called back, hurrying around to make sure everything was ready for dinner. “Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” You whirled around to see George standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. You smiled fondly at him as he approached you, pulling you into his arms and settling his hands on your waist, “You look beautiful my love, is this the dress you bought with Lily the other day?” You nodded, looping your arms around his neck and leaning up to peck his lips, “It is, speaking of, is she here?” George nodded, “Yeah, they’re in the dining room.” You squealed with excitement and untangled yourself from George to run to Lily, after the squealing and hugging had died down, George poked his head out of the kitchen, “Do you want me to bring the plates in here love?” Alex laughed shaking is head at George, “You’re so whipped for her.” George nodded, not even phased at Alex’s teasing, “She’s my love, of course I am.”

lh.44 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔ Darling Iconic and timeless, this name has stood the test of time. Darling sounds so good falling off of his lips. Whether it’s tinged with that slight American accent from time to time or sounds completely British, Lewis loves the way your hand always searches for his or your head drops to his shoulder once he’s said it. Lewis isn’t one for big PDA but he will always use this name, especially if he wants to check in with you mid-event or at a large gathering. Using this name is just one of the many ways he takes care of you.

“Darling,” You stopped mid-conversation with Toto and Susie as Lewis suddenly appeared behind you, his hand sliding down your arm before linking his fingers with yours and subtly pulling you to stand a little closer to him “are you feeling okay?” He knew you hated these big events, especially when he couldn’t stay by your side the whole time. You turned to look at him a sweet smile breaking across your face as you squeezed his hand, “I’m okay, I promise” He pressed a gentle kiss to the side of your head before noticing your glass was empty, “I’ll be right back darling,” He plucked your glass out of your hand and made his way to the bar, you staring after him lovingly, “The two of you are so sweet.” Your head snapped back to Susie who stood there watching you with a fond expression, you giggled, “He takes good care of me,” “You’re good for him too.” Toto acknowledged with a nod, “Here you are darling,” A hand appeared in front of you with a fresh drink, followed by Lewis. Taking the glass from him you pecked his cheek and linked your hand with his, “Thank you love.”

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iceunhie · 21 days

Text

HEART TO HEART — aventurine

premise ⁠☆ the five times aventurine bares his heart out to you, and the one time it works in his favor (or, in which aventurine says he loves you, in his own little ways.)

a/n ⁠☆ lovesick aventurine, i repeat super lovesick aventurine this is not half-assed, originally for @aventurne but then i decided it was for all but mei you will forever be known as the one who started this all ily, reblogs are appreciated. reader is the same reader from make a bet !!

The first time Aventurine opened up to you, he thinks that you looked like what starlight could be in human form.

Granted, no starlight would be able to keep him on his toes this much, though.

He speaks your name like a victory falling upon his lips, a measured weight in its cadence. Aventurine relishes in the way you look alert, placing your attention on him (and him alone), sticking to his side like the faithful subordinate that you are.

He's come to learn that you don't exactly do friends—you are the very image of professionalism, never crossing the lines you shouldn't cross; and if he’s not careful, you could disappear at the slightest touch, just like starlight. (Would it kill you to stay just for him?)

“Have I ever told you that you look prettier when you smile?”

You pause from your game, looking up from the chessboard you and your co-worker, boss, and give him a look that one can truly only enjoy if they were either a masochist or someone who enjoyed another's disgust of them. “About 25 times now, Aventurine.”

“You've been counting? I didn't know you loved my praise that much.”

Sometimes he feels the urge to always compliment you—because this is the only way for you to keep your eyes on him, to only look at him, and Aventurine has always loved looking at your eyes. (If he kept looking, would he convey his heart to you?)

You scrunch up your face. Cute. “What?”

“Nothing.” Fondness bleeds from within him, the Kakavasha of old seeping into the cracks of his hollow shell. Aventurine plays gambles, risks death, yet this feeling of elation is something that triumphed in all of that.

He wonders if you notice; if you know that his honeyed words are genuine, as genuine as a liar like him can be. Aventurine wonders if you can tell that every poke and prod hides the underlying meaning of desperation—the words he can never bring himself to say because he thinks he's far too unworthy (for you). Still…

“I hope you know that it's true.” Just this once, he’ll let you see, just this once. “I mean it. You look prettier when you smile.”

Just this once, Aventurine thinks. He’ll bare his heart to you just this once. It's a gamble, a risk; a gamble he wants to risk.

And indeed, perhaps this is what Gaiathra’s blessing is for.

He sees you bristle like a cat, so wary—but he sees the flush coating your cheeks, reaching well up to the tips of your ears, and he knows he's won. Checkmate. “That's such a lame compliment.”

“How cold.”

(To love is such an unpredictable thing.)

—

Aventurine has only three words to describe himself: loser, liar, and murderer.

He can think of other words too, like useless, stupid, disgusting, unworthy… a plethora of ugly, demeaning, visceral words—how fitting for a person like him.

There's another, too. Greedy. He's greedy. Whether as Kakavasha or Aventurine, the hunger to consume all lingers fresh in his mind. It's a need that knows no end, embittering all he cherished, cherishes. Like an iron chain upon his neck. He's greedy for solace, freedom; death, and—

“Aventurine, are you okay?”

(You.)

How truly fortunate he is to behold your expression, when your concern is as slim as the chances of a collision of planets; when the expressive range of your emotions towards him range from either exasperation or irritation.

His smile feels rotten today, unbearably sweet. “Are you worried about me?”

“You…” the traces of care don't slip from your expression despite the annoyance that betrays your tone. “Be serious here—you haven't been sleeping, have you? What is it? Is Sir Diamond assigning you yet another impossible mission?”

“No.” He doesn't know what's more agonizing. Knowing you care (and always have cared) for him, or knowing that he's making you go through all this trouble just to care for him. He smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. “It's just a minor upset, don't worry.”

He doesn't want to be indebted to you. Rather, he doesn't want you to see him; vulnerable, weak. Allowing you to freely enter his study as he's buried under piles of duty bound work just to come across one of the rare times where he's just Kakavasha—alone, and shouldering everything even if it kills him.

Worst of all, Aventurine feels that if you see him, you’ll find out just how ugly he truly is. And then—you’d leave. Like starlight, out of reach; never to be seen again. (Humans cannot survive without the light.)

“Then I'll get you something to eat at least, so you can-”

“No, wait.” He speaks your name like a plea, and you stay. Relief floods through his senses.

Aventurine thinks that perhaps because of the vulnerability he's exposed, you've even become softer. Because why else would you look like that, looking at him like he's worth something? “What is it, Aventurine?”

“Can you stay by my side?” There's a crack in his voice that he wishes to hide, but you don't mind anyway. “Just this once.” Please.

“...Okay.” He doesn't know if he wants to comprehend the meaning of your expression. “I'll stay. As- As much as you want.”

Aventurine thinks that his heart has already been consumed, his greediness becoming his downfall. Why is he just like a fool whenever he's with you? Do you know how dangerous this is, saying these words to him? At this rate…

They say that to covet what must not be coveted is one’s downfall, and Aventurine is no different. His eyes trail over your form, every inch of the stardust that make you. “Thank you. Really.”

Aventurine has only three words (and more) to describe him: liar, loser, and murderer.

“Don't thank me, Aventurine. Just—get some rest. I'll be there when you wake up.”

But now, watching you stay by his side; he supposes he can add another one to his list.

A fool. (a lover.)

Well, he’s been called worse.

—

Envy is a face Aventurine has long grown accustomed to seeing.

He saw it as Kakavasha; the look others give when they see his eyes, when they look at his profile. As Aventurine, he sees it in the eyes of space traders as they gaze upon his wealth, how the eyes of others fall onto him as he walks past.

But the fact that he also wears its mask is ironic, especially given the subject of his envy.

The third time Aventurine bared his heart out to you, it had been an accident. In his foolishness, Aventurine had slipped up.

He shouldn't be jealous, envious of those who get to help you with the IPC’s missions. It is the right, sensible thing to do; because you make him feel illogical, unable to comprehend in the haze of longing.

(Perhaps lovesickness isn't too far off a word.)

This is why you make him break free of his self-imposed apathy at seeing you off. Aventurine checks the file you'd be heading off to. Pier Point.

In a sense of uncharacteristic recklessness and perhaps brought upon by his longing; Aventurine ends up seeing you off.

“I'll get going now- Aventurine….?” your words falter when you watch as your co-worker strides toward you, terribly fast. “I thought you weren't coming to see me.”

“I can't have my dearest friend leave without seeing their handsome colleague’s face.” he says, like a liar. Small mercies to his ability to divert his inner feelings—and to not think about the fact that seeing you makes his heart throb in an ache no hunger can satiate.

You scoff, and thankfully you don't seem that irritated. If anything, you're in a good mood today. Even let him see the way your head tilts to bite back a smile. “How fortunate of me then.”

(He is.)

“Extremely.” he calls your name like a wager, seeking an answer. “How long are you going to be away this time?”

“Almost a month, maybe.”

“...I see.”

He's sulking, you can't help but laugh. Like a golden retriever. “Why so glum? Don't tell me you'd miss me.”

And for all his grace at maintaining his carefully crafted mask, Aventurine's whole world stops when he hears the sound. “How could anyone ever not miss you?”

You pause mid-laugh. Aventurine feels his face heat. He slipped up. Again, because of you. Because you always made him feel as though the universe could stop and end with you; and that this rotten hunger that gnawed at his bones might just be that he cared for you far too much for his own good.

…And now he felt like he wanted to fall back into a sandpit and hide there forever. “Is that what you think, Aventurine?”

(The way you say his name is so intoxicating.)

“Maybe.” He can't look at you right now, or else he'll imagine it—how could you ever feel the way he feels for you? When you were you and he was… him.

“Then come with me next time.” you look at him as though he'd break at any moment; tender. There's something else, too. “If you'd miss me that much.”

You flash him a cheeky, lovely smile, and Aventurine falls.

How unfair you are, capable of reducing him to bits; bringing him to your light and making his heart set off like fireworks in the night.

For now, he will be Aventurine—he could never resist such a tempting offer, not when its weight was far more valuable than any treasure of all. “It would be my pleasure.”

—

Aventurine has always thought that the space in his heart is empty because it was meant to be.

Because he is not worthy of feeling—he is a tool to be used; every part of him taken away and exploited away by others at their whim. In short, he is his best bargaining chip at any stability in his life.

“Aventurine, you’ll catch a cold if you keep forgetting to remove your coat.”

But you don't think that way, and it confuses him, to say the least. Like a shooting star, traces of your existence are specks in his life that have become far too important for him to let go.

Whether it be indulging in his whims of poker, allowing him to see the sight of your expressions in embarrassment and resignation, or the subtleties that have led him to believe (at least, he hopes to believe) that you do care.

And each time, Aventurine embeds your name into his heart even further.

Even now, as you hand him a towel and take his wet coat out of the way, Aventurine doesn't know if this is a blessing or a curse. You are always like this—overwhelmingly blinding, tethering himself to you without warning with your compassion. “I won't get sick.”

“Uh huh. And I'm Qlipoth the Preservation.” your eyebrows raise, and you take him inside. “I don't want to end up taking care of you if you will, so consider this a precautionary measure.”

“Seems I'm in luck, then.” He laughs, genuine. You're probably the only one to be able to bring out this part of him. “Such an angel you are.”

“Stop patronizing me and dry off already.”

“Alright alright, no need to get so fussy.” he throws up his hands in surrender, and he waits until you leave his quarters, strides measured as you give him privacy to change.

Aventurine wonders if you know just how much he loves you. Because he knows he does.

(He has already reached a conclusion.)

Perhaps the reason the space in his heart is empty was because you had been dictated to fit in it, and that Aventurine knows he’d never want you to leave.

—

Grief haunts Aventurine like a ghost, an old friend. Anguish whispers in Kakavasha’s ears and dictates its path to be his destiny.

But love comes in the form of Aventurine’s adoration for you.

“Have you ever wondered what it would be like to die?”

(Yes, he did. He has always wondered.) “No.”

“Why are you asking?” It is a mundane question, spoken atop the glamourous balcony as you and him look down at the glittering streetlights in Penacony below, watching the people of the dreamscape live the life their reality never brought them.

“No reason. Just… I wondered.” You hum, and Aventurine notes the miniscule shiver of your body, the lowering of your gaze; you're thinking about something again. (He wonders if you'd let him listen to what you want to say.) “What death might be like in this dreamscape.”

Instead, his silent question comes in the form of his coat draped around your back. There's no motion of rejection from you, which makes him feel nice—even if it's just for a while.

“Thank you.” You didn't need to thank him. Aventurine knows that he'd do anything for you anyway even if you don't ask a thing. Because he knows that no matter what, this game with his heart on the table shall always lose in favor of you.

“For what it's worth,” Aventurine says, the characteristic lilt of amusement in his voice gone, replaced with something authentic, “I wouldn't want you to die.”

Never. “I don't want you to die either.”

(If only you knew.)

“Hehe, I wouldn't go down without a fight.” he says, and Aventurine takes you in—the ways in which you gaze upon the scenery below, watching how you chuckle as you hear the loud countdown to the fireworks, the way your voice has always been the light, his adoration for you a stone to grab on in his gamble in life.

There's silence. Loving you is like loving the way the air fills your lungs as you breathe, because loving you was as natural as breathing in the sandy dunes of the place he once called home.

(Instead, you took its title for yourself.)

He speaks your name like it's the last thing he could ever do, and that through you, Kakavasha lived, and Kakavasha loved you.

And like always, it's there. Your attention, on him, as he always knows it will be (and as he always hopes it shall be.) as you gaze at him like he's the brightest star in the sky. “What is it?”

And when Aventurine finally bares his heart to you for the fifth time as the burst of fireworks ricochet across the skies, he hopes those three words will reach you.

bonus: the time aventurine bares out his heart to you, and he gets rewarded.

Aventurine’s hair has always reminded you of the color of gold. It is the color of the sunlight as it gently basks against your skin, the color of expensive champagne the man next to you so favors, and the color of the edges of his sunglasses.

(You've always been fond of yellow.)

"Aventurine?" you say, tone light, urging him to wake up. He's truly relentless, adamant on sulking as though his most valuable treasure would slip away from his grasp like you are right now because you were running late. "Can you let me get up now?”

“Good morning to you too.” purple eyes greet your form and an arm winds itself around your waist, pulling you even closer. “And unfortunately for you, I'm afraid I don't want to.”

“I'll be late. You know Jade hates tardiness-”

“-And I would be devastated to not have my lover by my side and leave me heartlessly.” Aventurine feigns, the falsity of his hurt not affecting you at all.

“You…” You frown at him, and Aventurine kisses the crease of your eyebrows of your face, enjoying the way your cheeks flush the like burn of alcohol down one’s throat. “You're so insufferable.”

“Mhm, whatever helps you let out that ire of yours.” he looks at you like he would the most precious of ores, the most valuable of cards—Aventurine looks at you unabashedly, wholly, in affection.

“Will you ever let me be on time?”

“Would you ever let me stop loving you?” he presses a kiss to your palm, tender as his hand traces circles on your palm. Aventurine already knows the answer.

“Really, you're just…” you sigh, but it's exasperatedly fond, and Aventurine’s heart skips a beat. He finds his answer when you press a chaste kiss upon the edge of his mouth. “So insufferable.”

Aventurine laughs, and the die is cast. “If I am, let's make a bet then.”

“Ugh, not another one of those.” you groan, but you make no notion to refuse anyway.

“Sway my heart enough to let you go.” he smirks, cunning as ever.

You roll your eyes, though it's nothing if not affectionate, determined glint shining in your eyes just like starlight.

“Deal.”

Recently, he's come to a conclusion; Aventurine thinks that if it's with you, no gamble is worthier than this.

end notes im gonna kms i hate the ending like actually hate it this fic is the product of boundless hatred and the urge to never show it to the light ever but here i am

#mhie's spirals #—stellaronhvnters #aventurine x you #aventurine x y/n #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr x you #hsr x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine HSR #aventurine x reader #everyone say thank you to ieyn because she was the one who said the ending had to be fluff instead of aventurine dying in reader's arms ^^

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