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monzabee · 5 months

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what you do to me – lh44 (+18)

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Summary: The one where Lewis returns home to you – the one thing he desperately wants, but won't let himself have completely.

Pairing: lewis hamilton x fwb!reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: angst, feelings, friends with benefits relationship, smut!, slight choking, unprotected sex (wrap your willy, don’t be silly!), slight manhandling?, pwp, minors dni!!

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! my boyfriend forced me to watch hellraiser the other day, and there was this one scene that i could just not thinking about so i wanted to write something inspired by it, and who better to write it about than sir lewis hamilton?? also, i reaaaallly wanted to write a friends with benefits thing and it was so much fun, i honestly wasn’t expecting. the title of this fic is actually a john legend song that i love and i think it fits the vibes for this fic, so please feel free to give it a listen if you're interested! i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

It’s a shame Lewis doesn’t spend more time in his Monte Carlo penthouse during the season because it’s a space he enjoys spending time in so much. He doesn’t mind being alone in his home – if anything, it’s refreshing after spending so much time being the focal point of so many cameras during the season. Also, technically, he is not alone he supposes; he has Roscoe to keep him company when he’s home, after all.

Coming home from a successful season is rewarding, he feels as if he’s deserved the rest he looks forward to. On the other hand, coming home from a not-so-successful season? Well he feels like shit – both mentally and physically. That is not to say that he doesn’t appreciate the time off, though, he is more than happy to not drive for weeks and just enjoy the winter break. Coming home is also always kind of bittersweet. He catches up with some of his friends he didn’t have time for during the season, his family who always support him through thick and thin, but most importantly he tries to make time for you and your… well, arrangement.

He knows something is wrong the minute you reply to his text about him being home. A simple okay is not a response he is used to getting from you. Alas, he shakes off the unease and chalks it up to a hectic day on your end. The pitter patter of Roscoe’s paws on the hardwood floors is enough to distract him from the situation, given the fact that the puppy is impatient for his dinner and is looking at the driver with pleading eyes.

“Okay ‘Coe,” he mumbles as he motions the kitchen with his head, “let’s go.”

The way Roscoe wobbles towards the kitchen brings a small smile to Lewis’ face even though he is still hung up on your answer. After he’s done feeding the puppy, he decides to grab a quick shower to ease the tiredness that comes from a long travel day. The hot water cascading down from the rainfall shower does a good job of taking care of his sore muscles, and he is more than happy to stay under the warm water if it means the soreness will go away. That is until he hears banging coming from his front door. He has every intention of just ignoring the person on the other side of the door; however, as the knocks get more and more persistent, he gets out of the shower with a groan. Wrapping a towel around his hips, he marches towards the front door, and looks through the peephole only to end up opening the door quicker than he would’ve liked.

His voice is confused as he mumbles out, “Lovey?” But you just straighten up from your position of leaning against the wall and throw your bag on the floor as you push your way through his apartment and wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him into a hug. He doesn’t miss the way your breath hitches as you attempt to hide yourself in the crook of his neck, and he is not sure what he’s supposed to do with his hands for a moment. “Hey,” he calls out softly, “what’s wrong?”

You pull back slightly to look into his worried eyes, “Just kiss me.” Your voice comes out somewhere between a whisper and a sob, and you can see the hesitation in Lewis’ eyes, but you just pull him towards you as you press a soft kiss on his lips, “Please.”

“What happened?” He tries once again to get an answer from you, but you shut down his attempt as you press your lips against his once more, more assertive this time. And who is he to deny you your wishes? So, like the perfect gentleman he is, he reciprocates your kiss with a one of his own as he wraps his arms around you to signal you to jump. Thankfully, you are so tuned with each other that you end up jumping up anyway, and he picks you up as you wrap your legs around his hips. Closing the door, he starts walking back towards his bedroom as your lips start moving more frantically against his own. “Slow down,” he warns, pulling back to give both of you a chance to breathe, “we have all night.”

Whining at the loss of contact from his lips, and you let your dissatisfaction known by attempting to roll your hips against his bare stomach, “Don’t wanna.” There’s still a lingering sob in your voice, but it is more reflective of the neediness you feel now that you have him between your arms – and legs. Lewis lets his hands roam down towards your ass to give you a warning squeeze – a one, maybe you would’ve been threatened by it if you weren’t so lost in him at the moment. You try your best to ignore the look he gives you, one filled with sternness; so instead, you move your lips downwards towards Lewis’ neck with another roll of your hips. “I missed you.”

He stills the movement of your hips as he simultaneously releases an appreciative groan at the way your lips feel on his skin. “I missed you too, lovey.” He is careful as he approaches his bed and sits down on the plush mattress with you still in his arms. Wrapping a hand around your hair to tilt your head back so he can look into your eyes again, he attempts to keep himself from becoming hard from the mere prospect of you wrapping your body around his. His eyes search yours for answers as to your sour mood, “Tell me what’s wrong, bad day?”

“Try bad month,” you scoff, letting your hands slide over his, somehow, still damp torso. “You weren’t here,” you explain as you free yourself from his hold on your hair and take off your sweatshirt, “don’t wan’ to talk about it.”

“Well, I’m here now.” A sudden realisation that you are not wearing anything under your top comes to Lewis, and he has to mentally restrain himself from doing something rash. “Not wearing a bra?” He asks, one of his eyebrows raised.

You let out a confirming hum, “Not wearing any underwear either.” Giving him an innocent smile at the groan he gets out, you shrug your shoulders nonchalantly, “Thought they’d get in the way.” His hands feel warm on your bare skin as he drags them up on your body to gently cup your exposed breasts, causing you to brace yourself by hanging onto his shoulder for support. Whining as you feel his thumb make contact with your sensitive nipple, you decide to pull him in for another kiss, mumbling a breathy, “Kiss me,” against his lips.

He obliges your request, of course, but he doesn’t let you control the kiss like you would’ve liked to. Instead, he stops the kiss by gently biting down on your lip before you can deepen it. With a small pat to your hip, he mumbles, “Get up, let me see you.” The look he gives you is just so full of adoration that you have no other choice to get up from his lap with the slowest moves you can muster. His eyes never leave you when you take a step back so that he can see you, all of you, and with the small nod he gives you, you begin taking off your leggings and shoes. That’s the thing about Lewis – for someone who is in the spotlight most of their time, he loves watching. And it is not only limited to the bedroom, you realise, he watches you even when you are doing mundane things together, like grocery shopping or walking Roscoe, domestic things that couples do together. But you can’t think about that, no, because both of you agreed that this was only physical and nothing more. Shaking the thoughts away, you straighten up from your bent position only to find Lewis looking you with a much darker look in his eyes. He’s dangerous, when he looks like that, you realise, he could break you into pieces with just his words, and the worst part is that you’d absolutely let him. “Pretty girl,” he whispers into the distance between you, and you take the hand he extends towards you for him to pull you against himself. The feeling of his lips on your skin almost feel feverish, and you find yourself releasing a gasp. “You’re the prettiest girl ever, lovey.”

“Lewis,” you brokenly whisper, your voice would be bordering on whiny with all the neediness that comes with it, “please, I need you.” The pleading look you give him is vulnerable, if not desperate.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against your skin, his lips leaving another open-mouthed kiss, this time closer to your lower belly. His voice does a good job of soothing your erratic mind, his arms envelope you as he promises, “Whatever it is I’m here now, tell me what you want.”

He does a good job of putting you on the spot, you think, but unlike your usual self, you don’t have the patience for teasing tonight. “I want you to fuck me,” your voice comes off stronger than before, but it wavers as you also add, “please.” The last word brings a small smirk to Lewis’ face, and you let out a shriek as he quickly throws you onto the bed. “You almost scared me to death,” you complain, pushing out your lower lip in a pout.

“You’ll be fine,” he lets out a breathy laugh while quickly getting rid of the towel still, miraculously, hanging on his hips. The smirk on his face grows as he watches you shamelessly checking him out, but he never breaks his gaze from yours when your eyes meet as he wraps a hand around his cock to jerk himself for a few times. You spread your legs to accommodate his body as he leans over your lying figure by using his free arm as support. Rubbing the tip of his cock through your slick slit a few times, you can feel his breathy chuckle hit your skin while his lips run over your jaw to leave small kisses. “You’re so wet for me,” he mumbles, and the whimper that leaves your lips when he makes a point to rub his tip over your clit wins another chuckle, “you’re gonna be good for me?”

“Uh-huh,” you mumble as you nod frantically, “yes Lu, I’m gonna be good, I promise. Please, just fuck me.” You try to tempt him by wrapping your legs around his hips and pulling him closer – either you are successful and he gives in, or he is just as desperate to get inside you as you are desperate to feeling him because he complies with your movements as he nudges the tip of his cock into you in a slow push forward. The stretch is burning every single time, and usually he gives you enough time to accommodate his size before proceeding to fuck your brains out. But this time, he doesn’t waste any time as he pushes himself fully into you until he’s buried inside you to the hilt. The gasp you begin to let out turns into a silent scream as the feeling of being full consumes you, “Fuck, Lewis–”

“Shh, it’s okay,” he soothes you through the initial pain, “you’re alright, just breathe th for a bit.” And you do what he tells you to because… well, you know he won’t do anything to hurt you. He brings his free hand towards your face to cup your cheek, which you respond by turning your head towards the warmness. “Tell me when the pain goes away,” he whispers against your skin – he finds he absolutely loves the way your skin flushes every single time he fucks you, and the thought makes him freeze for a second. Love? That is not something he should be thinking about, not especially when he’s buried inside you, because you both agreed–

Deciding to respond wordlessly, you press a soft kiss in the middle of Lewis’ palm, whilst also attempting to roll your hips, but then whining because of the additional pressure, “Please, Lewis, please move.”

That must’ve done the job of breaking Lewis out of whatever trance he was in, because once he hears your whiny voice pleading him to move, he starts thrusting his hip in and out of you in a rhythm that simply leaves you breathless in mere seconds. It’s the stress of the season, you think to yourself, but Lewis’ movements just get faster and deeper until he hits that one spot inside you that makes your whines turn into a scream and has you arching into him. You can’t see his reaction with your eyes fluttered close, but he stills his movements for a few moments as he looks at you as if you’re the most precious thing in his life. He waits until your erratic breathing to get back to normal before he starts rolling his hips against yours again, but this time the tempo he adopts is much slower, sensual, and almost… too intimate for it to only be considered physical between the two of you.

Your eyes flutter open as you look at him with confusion, “Wha– What are you–?” But he only cuts you off by pressing his lips against you to swallow your question in a kiss. The slower tempo is surprisingly more pleasurable then his usual style that you’ve dubbed fast and furious, and every time his hips roll at a certain angle, he brushes your clit in a way that makes your feet curl in pleasure.

He is breathless when he pulls away from the kiss and rests his forehead against yours, but then again, so are you. The way he seems to gaze into your eyes make your breath hitch, and if you thought that was Lewis showing his emotions, he decides to put them into words. “So good for me, lovey,” he moans, yes moans because one thing you’ve learned from the start is that real men moan, “you were made for me, weren’t you?” His accent gets thicker, which is a tell that he’s getting there, but he won’t let himself come before he makes sure you’re taken care of. “Look at how you’re taking me, reckon I can feel myself if I place my hand on your belly?” It makes him laugh when you whine as you attempt to slither your hand towards your stomach to test his theory, but one deep stroke of his hips and your arms envelope them around his shoulders to use him as a support. “Perfect, you’re just perfect for me, hm? My perfect, pretty, little girl.”

“Please,” you whimper out, the tears that form in the corner of your eyes threatening to fall, “I’m so close.” It’s been such an emotional day, and a shitty month that all you wanted was to be consumed by him – and now that you have him in your arms, acting like you are more than just two friends who use each other for something so trivial and human as urges, you don’t want to let him go. Especially not when he makes you feel like you could love him for the rest of your life. Even if just the thought of it is enough to make your heart race. Needless to say, the sob you let out is unexpected on both of your ends, and you know he’s about to stop when he slows down even more, but you give him a stern look through your tears, “Don’t you dare stop.” You moan, loud enough for his neighbours downstairs to hear, once he picks up the pace again, but it’s still slow enough for it to be considered love making and not fucking by both of your standards.

He knows you’re close when your walls start clenching around him, which makes it much harder for him to compose himself. So, being the perfect gentleman he is, he starts rubbing your clit with one of his hands, his fingers work hard to bring you even more pleasure. He watches in amazement as you trash around under his body and as your whimpers and moans get louder gradually – until you are coming undone around him, starting to sob because of the pressure gets released in your tummy, that is. His hips still continue their languid movements, just like the faster movement of his fingers, as he fucks you through your release, mumbling sweet nothings and encouragements into your ear. Lewis does his best to kiss the tears that escape from your eyes, his breath fanning over your feverish skin.

“So good,” your moans get softer as you get calmer after a while, though your voice is still scratchy, “wanna feel you more, Lu.” Sliding your hand between your bodies to take his hand away from your clit, the loss of his touch makes you whine softly and he watches you in confusion while still continuing his movements slowly, but you see the way his eyes light up with a dark look when you wrap his fingers around your throat, and thankfully he understands the message as he tightens his hold just the way you like it. “Yeah, just like that,” you moan, encouraging him to pick up the pace. This time, it’s your turn to whisper praises riddled with encouragement, and you know it gets to him, because every single stroke his hips deliver end up making him fill you more and more, as if that was possible. The sobs coming from your lips transform into ones of pleasure, bringing Lewis closer and closer to his release.

“Look at me,” his voice is sharp, and it makes you immediately fix your eyes on his. There is an immense sense of wanting to please him, or rather make him proud within you, and he rewards you with a burning kiss that leaves you panting and wanting more as he spills himself into you. As he pulls away to moan out your name, his thumb dragging down your bottom lip. You gently bite down on his thumb while you manage to get out a satisfied moan, eyes closing ever so slightly as you feel him spill into you, and he keeps pulling you even closer to himself when he lets his body fall next to yours.

You have no idea how he manages to still stay inside you, but you can feel his lips pressing gentle kisses across your hairline, and brushing away the sweaty strands. “You feel better now, lovey?” Smiling at the tiredness dripping from his voice, you hum airily, a satisfied smile on your face while you move your neck to look at him. “Good,” his whisper brushes your lips as he nudges the tip of your nose with his, earning a giggle from you while he wipes away the dry tears on your cheeks.

“Do you have to leave?” There is a whiny undertone to your question, and it makes him give you a gentle smile.

“Not for a while,” he assures you, then he presses his lips softly on yours in a small kiss, “I promise.”

He grabs your hand to weave his fingers through yours, pressing gentle kisses to your knuckles as he keeps silent for a moment – because he knows at that moment, just because you asked, he’ll cancel every single plan he’s made, just to spend more time with you so that he can make you smile like that. “Until you get sick of me, that is.” Your tired laughter fills his ears until it is interrupted by a yawn. He carefully moves you so that he gently takes himself out of you, and rolls you sideways so he can wrap his arms around as he pulls you close to cuddle. “Go to sleep, lovey, we’ll talk in the morning,” he mumbles as he presses soft kisses to your bare shoulder. You close your eyes with a smile on your face, burying yourself into his chest as much as you can, and hear him mumble, “My lovey,” before promptly falling asleep.

You pretend you didn’t hear him in the morning because the arrangement the two of you made was about keeping things causal.

But you respond by squeezing his hand three times in return anyway.

And he responds.

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton fluff

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biscuitsngravie · 2 months

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Dancing with the Devil

True Form Sukuna x Reader

Summary: Sukuna's had a shit morning, and what better way to take it out than on you.

Content and Trigger Warnings: free use, no prep (on Sukuna's end, reader preps), creampie, reader is cumdump, reader is a cumslut, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, cunnilingus from the back, vaginal fingering, piv, double penetration, anal sex, angry sex, rough sex, deep penetration, paraphilia regarding voyeuristic sadism, sadisomasochism?, degradation, orgasm control (edging & forced orgasm), multiple orgasms, monsterfuckery is a tag in itself, mating press, doggy style, pussy slapping, choking, size difference, biting, hematophagy/blood letting, blood kink, light possessiveness, spit play/spit as lube, some nipple play/nipple sucking, grinding (kinda), hair pulling, full Nelson (kinda), fear play, cowgirl, overstimulation, scratching, squirting, dacryphilia, fellatio, throat fucking, cum swallowing, slapping, lotus, belly bulge, breeding kink

Word Count: 4.8k

an: this is my first time writing sukuna, pls be kind!! 😣

MDNI 18+

His yelling doesn't disturb you. If anything, it acts as a lullaby, snarls and grunts being the hands rocking your cradle. The crashing of furniture serves as not much more than the ease of nearby waves. The bloodcurdling screams accenting his actions like the songs of cicadas in the wind.

It's a hurried and desperate banging against the door that finally stirs you. Pleads of mercy often go unheard to him, including yours. But the gall to beg his personal toy (a nicer word on a good day) in an attempt to escape his fury? Audacity once flowed as easily as the offender's blood, now adding to a mosaic of evidence that is Ryoumen Sukuna.

The satin slides against your skin as you shift, the flows of fabric slipping across your skin and pooling at your waist as you sit up. It's one of the niceties he's granted you since your... promotion of sorts. Your nipples pebble at the coolness in the air, its temperature challenged by the white hot heat emanating from the worshipped himself.

What's set him off today? A line out of turn? A newfound betrayal? His breakfast not cooked to his liking? These anxieties used to run across your mind, bouncing against the walls of your cranium just to press together into a headache. Though nowadays, despite being directly on the receiving end of his emotions, your job proves rather simple:

When he wants it.

How he wants it.

Wherever he wants it.

Even in your first few minutes of your waking hours does arousal prickle your skin, rippling goosebumps along with the cool, morning air. It warms every part of you, cascading from the center of your chest down your arms, pooling into your core and wetting your inner thighs. The next course of events can only be described as a manifestation of your inner perversion; whether offset by your newfound position or an expression of germinating seeds finally fertilized and enriched by their twisted environment. Anyone who would seem to care to do the research has most likely begun pushing daisies of their own.

But here you are, nipples pebbling the air as your body warms. Deft fingers push aside the satin fabric sitting at your hips to play with your slit, a welcome satisfaction when your fingers are met with a slickness. Your clit aches and begs for your attention with insistent throbbing, but you tease yourself much in the way he would. Using your other hand, you play with your nipple, pinching and squeezing the bud, moaning as a bolt of electricity shoots straight back down to your leaking cunt. You think to yourself about how much he loves watching your chest as you ride him, his satisfied smirk as you bounce on his cocks.

“Fuck…”

The flashback brings you to full on fingering yourself, slipping two in with ease, but ultimately missing the burning feeling of him stretching you out. With the flat of your palm pressed against your clit, you throw your head back, groaning as you think of him. Every scream fuels you. Every desperate cry for help before it's mangled into a jumbled gurgle as he rips people to oblivion. You can't help but fall back and roll over, nearly humping your hand as you try to grind into it.

"Please! I didn't-"

You grab the tororo-jiru — yams grated down to a slick — on your nightstand and begin prepping your other hole. The pressure isn't the same as when you're stuffed full, but it'll have to do for now.

"I-I can help you! Please li-"

You buck your hips at every shriek, heat emanating from your body and building a sheen of sweat over you. The sheets cling to your damp skin wherever it touches. More. More.

"My children! I have children, please!"

You cry out in tune with his next victim. Though on opposite ends of the spectrum, your shared agony is caused by the same figure. Your lower belly tightens at the thought as you pulsate around your fingers. You squeeze them as you lament that you can't have more. More.

That coil comes in on itself, tightening as it hurdles you towards the edge. "Hah… mmmph!"

You bite your lip and move your hips even faster, humping your hand like a damned dog in heat.

"Horny little bitch."

The cause of Sukuna's distress this morning? Maybe it was the duck - undercooked and underdressed, naked on a plate without a medley of vegetables for his taste. Maybe that would've been permissible if they hadn't put too much wheat in his hishio, leaving it dry and all too crumbly. If that one troglodyte brought him the sake like he ordered asked, there wouldn't have been an issue. Even the raging boners he was afflicted with weren't bothering him all that much - your chambers were near enough.

Possibly the worst solution of irritancies, undealt with arousal, and mostly likely hanger brought him to summon cleave on the next servant who brought him a dining platter. The grating screams of horror that usually played melodically in his ears only fueled his growing impatience and unamusement. Something that was amusing though?

Your scrambles for deceny (why?) and slew of apologies pull him out of his momentary stupor. You cling to the satin sheets, uncaring or unaware of the splotches of dampness, a mixture of your wetness and the lubrication. Even so, you hold the crimson fabric to yourself and gaze up at him. He watches the rapid rise and fall of your chest, sure your heart is beating so fast it’ll break your ribs and lay splayed on the floor. He can smell a familiar scent, one that intoxicates him when he begins his tireades, infiltrating his nostrils like stray fern spores. Or at least he thinks he does. Fear, is it not? But as he traces your form, unnecessarily wrapped in flimsy threads, he picks up on the small notes that change the chemistry of it all.

“Are you… embarrassed?”

If you weren’t before, you for certain are now. The draw of your knees up to your chest, and the subtle quiver of your lip answer long before you do. “I-I… did you need comforting, my Lord?”

Sukuna squats down to your level. While the room is known as “your” chambers, the term is used as a marker of where you should be, rather than what “yours.” You sleep on a futon elevated not much more than a foot and a half off the ground beside a heighted California King sized bed. The material and stuffing is changed regularly, though considering the activities that perspire in this room, it’d be a crime if it weren’t.

The bed itself is preserved for Sukuna for the occasion that he does decide to sleep here. Even though you’re his favorite, he often sleeps alone since four arms, along with other appendages, get rather hot — especially after he’s done with you. Two years since you’ve offered yourself up for him, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

He sneers at you, baring his fangs in what he considers in resemblance to a “smile.” Balanced on his haunches with two arms resting on thighs thick as logs, he reaches out with his upper left hand to snatch away your covering. He swallows his comment on how damp and limp the fabric is when he spreads your legs with his upper right. You fight for only a fraction of a second before letting yourself be laid bare.

He lets out a low whistle and begins reaching right towards your heat. The chuckle he has can be felt through the vibration in his fingertips as he runs his fingers through your folds. This is normal. This is just another day, but today…

“My Lord—”

“Shut the fuck up.”

The lightest of thumb presses to your clit has you whimpering. This is normal. He’s seen you naked more times than you’d ever care to count. He’s come to you, teasing and playing with your sensibilities and rationalities after a rampage many, many times before. But this…

Are you… embarrassed?

Though you’re one of many for him, he’s the only one for you. Many years from now, a dictionary will be drafted, and your name will be cited for “insatiable slut.” Between his visits you often find yourself craving even the slightest hint of acknowledgement from him. A brief glance from just one of his eyes would have you trembling with your hands between your thighs for hours. So of course when he’s on his tantrums you beg above for his warpath to lead to your room, but he’s never caught you like this.

He’s never caught you knuckles deep at the presumption that he’d be finding comfort in you today. He’s never seen you masturbate in search of self-fulfilling pleasure. It’s always been a show of sorts for him: fascinating and occasionally grating as you both waited for you to be “ready.”

So yeah, of course you’re fucking embarrassed.

He touches you differently now: curiosity leads him through your heat and up to your clit, pressing against it again. He focuses the eyes on his second face on yours, while his others stay trained on the small shudder that starts from your thighs and dances to your pert nipples. He catches the way your hand starts to grip onto the fabric under you and presses again, harder.

Your hips buck into his hand in tandem with a moan that dies as quickly as it comes when you remember his command. You bite your lip to kill any other sounds that dare to escape you, throwing your head back to sniffle as he begins circling it with his thumb.

His bottom eyes catch the way your toes begin to curl and he chuckles again. The vibration goes straight to your clit, and your legs fly to wrap around his forearm. “Ah ah ah…” he finally puts his bottom arms to use to hold your legs open. “Bet you like that shit, huh?” He drops the blanket he held in his upper left arm to run two fingers over your heat, glistening as his thumb speeds up. “All of ya are always playin’ with this even with my cocks in you. Feel good?”

You sniffle and nod weakly. You swear your back is going to break with how hard you’re arching off the futon. Your breathing becomes erratic as you try to hold yourself. He’s touching you. Like, actually touching you.

“‘Please?’ Please what?”

“Please… here,” you began leading his hand towards your center, "I wanna come…”

“Don’t forget your place. Do that shit yourself.”

Since that time early on, you’d learn to keep your pleas of desperate yearning to yourself. You played with your own nipples, toyed with your clit yourself, and paved your way to your orgasms. If you came that day, good for you. If you didn’t, all parties failed to see how that was his problem. But today…

The way he holds you, the way his fingers dig into your heat, exploring the warmth that’s so frequently wrapped around one or both of his cocks. The hum of inquisitiveness when he presses against a spongy surface inside you is too much to handle. It’s all overwhelming, the way your body becomes feverish with every stroke, thick fingers stretching you out the way your own never could. The euphoria leaves you lightheaded. Your breaths shallow as it takes everything out of you to stay grounded on cloud nine.

“Hey!” Sukuna moves his thumb away from your clit to slap your sopping cunt. “Answer the question.” The action itself isn’t too rough, but your sensitivity has you jolting. You whine and squirm under him, fighting the hold on your legs in futility. Before you can snap up to register what’s happening, a grip around your throat brings you back up to face him. All four eyes focus on you. Though not necessarily peeved, irritance makes its presence known on his faces.

“Answer.”

The lone word has you clenching around his fingers. Your breath quickens under the scrutiny of his gaze, hitching in your throat when he puts pressure on the sides. You will your eyes to remain forward to meet his and not roll into the back of your skull. With an uneven voice you whimper, “I d-do… my Lord.”

“Hmm,” he hums again, lazily scissoring you as he thinks. Torturously slow strokes keep your orgasm at bay as he ponders to himself. Continuing with his upper left hand, he reaches for the spot he found earlier and relishes in the pathetic mewl it pulls from you. He removes his fingers to inspect the newfound slick that’s gathered around them down to the knuckle. “Hmph.”

You look off to the side in shame, unable to turn your head away with his hold. His scent wafts up your nose, sneaking up into your senses and settling in the back of your throat. The slight metallic tinge from previous bloodshed mixes with the bourbon undertone that emanates from his skin. Oils and perfumes that have long since settled fuzzy your senses, though you’re still present enough to reach down and cover yourself. The everpresent vulnerability cuts through the surface, urging you once again for unneeded modesty.

Yet another smirk paints his lips. He takes the hand covered in your wetness and grabs your wrists in one motion. He lets go of your throat so that he can raise your arms over your head, laying you down on your back. Adjusting his hands on your thighs, he spreads you open to a with your knees pressed against your chest. The stretch isn’t unfamiliar, but it still has you holding your breath.

Inching closer and closer, he wraps his hand around your throat again, arching over you. He loves the way you feel beneath him: the fragility of your form despite the way you crave him. Need him. He loves that your body gives way to his greed, taking every touch as a godsend. Though you both know heaven is far from where he’s from. He can’t get the enough of how you—

Sukuna breaks out of his own musings to refocus himself, tucking his face into your neck. Embarrassment and shame greet him again, dancing across his olfactory palette and swelling both his cocks. “Listen here, you bitch,” he husks against the column of your throat, tracing your pulse point with his fangs, “don’t you dare cover what’s mine.”

His bottom arms make quick work of his kimono. He lets you go for a moment to free himself completely. Despite the staining on his garments, he was sure to at least wash his hands, wary of the “burning” you wouldn’t shut the fuck up about a few weeks ago. He doesn’t know if he would’ve cared so much if it hadn’t spread to him and the others, causing a discomfort he would not live through again.

You barely get a chance to observe his physique — taut muscles that proudly sport the tattoos banding across his chest — before the world goes dark as he leans over you again. He forces his faces into your neck, the rough skin of his second face nuzzling into the suppleness of your own. His bottom arms angle your legs outward to keep his pussy on display. When he catches the hint of a whine, his upper right hand covers your mouth to save himself of your pathetic squalling. His left begins to occupy itself with your nipple, pinching and twisting it between rough fingertips.

Pain and pleasure intertwine again, concocting a cocktail of endorphins that goes straight from your brain right back down to your cunt. That’s when you notice it:

The heat you feel is not just your own, but his second mouth panting there. The lips are barely close enough to brush against your own. Sukuna pulls back to watch your face, already twisting in pleasure, but morphing into something else completely as his tongue envelopes you. The ridges of his taste buds are hot against your his pussy, rubbing against your clit as his tongue darts out to lick you again. You whine and throb on the muscle as it encases your vulva, helplessly rutting to the best of your ability. “Mmmph!”

He hooks your legs into his elbows on his bottom arms this time, pressing his second face into you even moreso. Hot pants wet your skin as he feels his own arousal growing. Every vibration against his palm fuels his cocks. It makes it harder and harder not to reach down to relieve the ache that’s becoming unbearable. Sucking on the skin of your neck, he continues to work his second mouth, lapping up the slick as it gathers there. “Fuck, didn’t know you tasted this good. Shoulda done this a long time ago,” he says gruffly, moving his hand from over your mouth to your shoulder to mitigate your squirming.

You shudder at the almost compliment. Everything is electrifying, making you feel weak all over. The only strength you have is in your hands and in your thighs, your fingers digging crescents into your palms. Sukuna, as many times as you two have engaged, has never cared to even pay an ounce of attention to your pleasure if it wasn’t self-serving. His exploration via his newfound curiosity, though still centered on his own inquisitiveness, makes it easier to delude yourself into thinking you’re a priority. “J-just f’you, m-my Lord.”

A low rumble vibrates throughout the two of you, an audible marker indicative of his amusement. The cry you let out from him pulling at your nipple has him bucking his hips into your futon. “Fuckin’ better be.”

Before you can affirm your allegiance, a burning in your thigh has you gasping. You wince as a sharp pain travels from there to the tip of your toes, all of your nerves standing on end as you register what’s happened to you. Squinting your eyes to look down, you see that one of his fangs from his lower mouth has sunk into the flesh there. It just barely pierces the skin, but the suddenness amplifies the pain before subsiding to a dull throb. He releases you to lick the small trickle of blood that begins to stain his lips.

“Looks like all of you tastes good,” he laughs before sinking his teeth into your shoulder, tasting the slight saltiness in the iron notes that fill his senses. He watches his handiwork mark your skin, traveling down to the similarly colored fabric beneath you. The urge to lap it up is pushed aside for an admiration of your state of being.

It feels strange. He’s not new to your fidgety nature, to your addiction to him. Yet the state you’re in, the way your body undulates with every probe — it ignites something new within him. With the taste of you still fresh on his tongue, he finds himself chasing a new kind of high.

The hand that plays with your nipple redirects to fondling your breast. The shock of the pain from the bite is easily overshadowed by this action, causing you to lean off the futon into his touch. Your moans flow freely into the air, as you writhe in pleasure. Between his hands and tongue, your body itself seems unable to decide where to find its bliss. It’s a sight Sukuna is beginning to find rather gratifying. You reach for your left nipple with your free hand, but it’s quickly slapped away with his right. “Always so fucking greedy.”

He finally rises to his knees again. His figure looks entirely too large on your futon. Part of you wonders if the structure can even support his weight, much less what’s about to take place. But the feeling of emptiness, the longing for him to fill you with something again, anything, overrides any and all of your worries.

All eyes focus on you, divided between your shiny cunt saturated in his saliva and your puffy nipple reddened under his abuse. His own cocks gleam with precum and the drool dripping from his lower mouth.

Sukuna pulls you closer, replacing his bottom right arm with the top one to stroke his second cock. He hisses at the relief, watching that needy little hole of yours clench around nothing. “Look at you,” he says breathily before spitting on your cunt with his second mouth, “no matter how many times I fill you up, you’re still such a needy little bitch.”

He lines himself to slam into you, his top cock slapping against your abdomen. “Ahh! Fuck yes… please please please…”

Your eyes cross with a flashing behind your lids. Jerking at the sudden stretch, you reach out to his forearm with a grip that has your nails digging into muscle. A sniffle accompanies a trail of drool leaking from the corner of your mouth. The abrupt intrusion has your gummy walls gripping his cock tight, pulsating around him.

“Fuck! Geez bitch, let up!” he half smirks with the way your pussy chokes his cock. “Gonna break it off, shit. Ay!” He slaps at your clit to catch your attention. It snaps you back to listen to his words. “Let up, damn.”

When you catch a whiff of irritation laden within his voice, you start the process of self-regulation. Breathe… Breathe… Breathe…

“There ya go…” He slowly pulls back and half-heartedly snorts at the way you’ve already saturated his length. He stops right at the tip and gleams at how your body desperately tries to suck him back in.

“My L-”

Redirecting his hand on your breast back to your throat, you take the hint and purse your lips together. Besides a low sniffle and the tiniest of bucks from your hips, your pleas for more die within you.

“Since you’re such a fucking slut…” He lines his bottom cock at your entrance. Its slightly thicker mushroom tip prods gently at first, teasing at the sliver of space.

“I…” A whimper catches your voice in your throat as you helplessly tremble beneath him. Chills run through you as the revelation sobers your pleasure-drunk brain. “I can’t. Ah!”

Sukuna tries not to chuckle in amusement as his cockhead bullies its way into your leaking cunt. “Yeah you can. I saw one of ya put an arm in there. Quit your whining. Fuck…” Your walls clamp down on him once he gets the tip in, and he just as tightly takes his lip between his teeth. He slowly sinks into you, feeling the way your body stretches and quivers as it accommodates the intrusion. Once his bottom cock is securely seated, he hooks your legs back into the elbows of his lower arms, his upper right occupying itself with your nipple.

It hurts. It hurts. It… It…

The searing pain folds in on itself, condensing from the shockwave that racked you initially and focusing in on your core. It…

Your gummy walls spasm around him uncontrollably, as you latch onto him, your nails tearing into flesh and marking him as he does you so often. You don’t even hear his comments as your body tries to process what’s happening. It…

With more saliva coating the space between you from the mouth on his stomach, it makes the first few movements of his hips near comprehensible before a quick snap forces you back into reality.

It’s bliss.

The pressure, the fullness. The way they press into grind against your g-spot with every thrust. It’s…

“S-so much!” Your brain melts and melds with the burning in your cunt as he speeds up. Each plunge into you kisses at your cervix, accentuated by the echoing squelches you two make. Your toes are curled so hard you swear it feels like they’re going to break. Just like the skin under his bottom hands, already bruising from the grips they have on your hips.

“Don’t fuckin’ run from it. This is what you wanted, so take it.” His pace stutters when you clamp down him, but he quickly recovers and reaches down between you with a hold on your waist with his upper left arm. “That’s right, keep it tight for me.”

Everything washes over you in waves: the pain from his hands on your hips; the pleasure from the one on your nipple; the mix of them both as he pounds into you relentlessly with reckless abandon. His grunts work further to feed the arousal leaking from your cunt, while that same cunt milks both of his cocks at every turn.

That’s why you can’t help but scream in frustration when he slows down to nearly a halt. “S-Sukuna please!” It happens so quick it takes you seconds after to process it, the stinging and reorientation of your gaze the only indicators of what’s happened. You hold your face at where he struck you. Know your place. “M-my… my Lord,” you say quietly, sniffling more from the denied orgasm rather than the strike itself, “I need—”

“Look.” All four eyes point downward and you follow their lines of vision. He’s nearly all the way out, only the tips of his cocks holding their place. He briefly glances up with one eye to ensure you’re paying attention right before he pushes back into you. He places your hand right over your abdomen as he does, and you both feel and watch the way your body molds around him, pushing against your skin and almost frighteningly bursting at the seams.

“Nnnngh…” You sniffle as he repeats the action over and over, incrementally increasing the pace. The coil inside you tightens as you follow the rise and fall of your abdomen. Every time he impales you, your wanton moans become choked, almost as if he’s fucking your throat right through the pussy. Your nails carve chasms into his skin as you will yourself to stay tethered. Each grunt in your ear has you clamping around him, causing a stutter in his hips before driving into with more fervor.

Sukuna pulls away a bit to take the sight in with his lower eyes. The frothing at the bases of his cocks is dizzying and has him swearing to himself. “That’s right, take it. Only thing a slut like you was made for. Nothing but a fucking pocket pussy—”

“Augh!” You cry out when your orgasm crashes over you, your thighs shaking in his hold. Sukuna hisses at the way your walls choke him, halting as you weakly grind on him to ride out. Your chest burns with each heave, and your breath catches in your throat when you feel Sukuna slide out without much care at all. It’s then that you notice the slight chill in the air again, goosebumps pimpling your skin with the newfound sheen of sweat that covers you.

He lets out a slow whistle with the brief comment of “Wow,” his eyes raving over every inch of you. He’s never paid much attention before, but seeing the way your eyes fall heavy and limp, much like the rest of you, this is something he might be able to get used to. His cocks twitch at the view, leaking precum and dripping in your combined wetness. It all drips down to his balls, aching, heavy, and full. “Get up.”

You try catching your breath, but moving your arms is as easy as lifting a tractor. Lead fills your limbs and renders you immobile as you continue to spasm around the ghost of his lengths that once filled you. Trembling lips move with difficulty as you try to form thoughts with the mush that’s replaced your brain. “I-I…” The dryness of your throat cracks your voice when you try again. “I c-can’t.”

With a roll of his eyes and a click of his tongue, he picks you up and leans back against the wall, situated at the head of your futon. He presses your back flush to his chest, spreading your legs open with his bottom arms while holding your throat with his upper left.

“My Lord?” Your quizzical tone goes unnoticed, or rather, ignored as he positions your body to his liking. Despite your eagerness to please normally making the process easy, the wake of your climax makes you even more pliable.

He grabs your breast with your right, palming it briefly before forming a mouth, sucking and flicking your nipple with his new tongue. The pleasure almost stings with your newfound sensitivity, but he presses his hand firmly every time you try to squirm. The lips latch on, tugging occasionally tugging and nipping at the bud caught between them. The graze of fangs sends a shudder throughout your chest and has you whimpering beneath his touch. It’s all overwhelming again when you feel a tongue prod at your entrance, the tip of of it flicking against your core from the mouth on his stomach.

“I didn’t say we were done.”

~~~~~~~~~~

an: hope you enjoyed! This is just the first part, but all the tags will remain on this one so to give ppl a heads up for the overall vibes. Looking forward to giving y'all the next part when it's ready!

Taglist: @yasminessims @ryomens-vixen @littlemochabunni @honeeslust @blkkizzat @arlerts-angel @halobuns @gojos-thot-patrol-main @connorsui @screampied-main @lem-hhn @sugarbarbie-main

Pls lmk if you wanna be tagged/if I forgot to tag you!

#jordussy speaks #jordussy #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna #true form sukuna #true form sukuna x reader #true form sukuna smut #monster fucker #jjk smut

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thisfanisgonesorry · 9 months

Text

groupie love — hobie brown

guitarists dont get as many groupies as you’d think they do. 😮

tags: smut, vaginal sex, mirror sex, hairpulling, hookups go crazy, dom/sub, teasing/praise kink obv, creampie bc i forgot the condom at home, brief cockwarming. bro is a lovesick idiot fr. possessive as HELL. porn w feelings kinda? infatuation? idk theres feelings! im mentally ill! pussy so good that hes down bad! consent is sexy tho.. parasocial relationships arent

(but it’s so hard sometimes with the star when you have to share him with everybody; and i know what you’re thinking of, you want my groupie love)

🕸️

One thing led to another and he was leading me through the backstage entryway, his arm draped over my shoulder as he walked with a pep in his step, filled with adrenaline and trying to get it out of his system in ways that didn’t end in him pouncing on me. (Though admittedly, that’d be short lived.)

Backstage was mostly empty besides a few select crewmates who overall didn’t seem too phased by my presence. Hobie greeted them as he walked past, as if he knew each one personally. The rest of the band had seemingly dipped, and weren’t too worried about Hobie being missing from wherever they’d gone to hang out.

“Li’l lady wants to check out the green room.” He winked at one of the crew as he continued, dismissing them to give us space. The green room was nice but it wasn’t his destination in mind. He stood there for a minute, looking down at me briefly, before spinning dramatically and pushing his back against the dressing room door, sliding in and pressing me against the wall in a fairly smooth action.

“Don’t think anyone saw that?” I muttered out quickly, it was more of a question as I really didn’t see much from the spin itself, caught a little off guard by the sudden movement and unable to process much until I was pinned firmly against the wall. The dressing room was small, and he took advantage of the fact.

“M’hm, no.” He shook his head, leaning in slightly. “Nah, y’re all mine.” He continued.

His hands lingered on my waist, his fingertips reaching under the fabric and restraining himself as much as he could as he felt the soft skin underneath.

“You seem energised.” I laughed softly.

“I’m fine, jus’ got my blood pumping. Was a good show. Can I kiss you?” He spoke quickly to the point where if you weren’t paying attention, you would’ve missed it. There was a short moment of silence where the air hung heavy as he waited, oh, how he waited so very patiently.

“... Yeah.” I nodded.

His patience ran thin, and his lips harshly made contact with mine, almost pushing my head into the wall. What a way to get a concussion. He groaned into it for a moment, enjoying the taste and licking my bottom lip slightly. My hands loosely hung around his neck,

“Bloody ‘ell...” He muttered, pulling away and going down my neck. His free hand reached to the door, locking it before anyone could walk in. He was kissing and licking my neck, letting small bitemarks dance across the skin.

He began tugging at the hem of my shirt anxiously, wanting to just strip me bare, bend me over, fuck my brains out, but all in due time.

“Doors soundproof.” He commented. “Let me—”

One arm was wrapped around his shoulders, grabbing a fistful of the leather jacket and tugging on it to beckon him forward as the other grabbed his hand, pushing it closer. In hindsight, it was kind of sweet how certain he was letting things be.

He quickly removed my shirt that had his own band’s logo on it, throwing it to the floor and fumbling on the bra, running his large palms over the fabric. I leaned forward to kiss him again and his hands dropped to my hips, hastily (and harshly) dragging me to the dressing table, pushing me up against it.

Our lips were reconnected once again, though the kisses were messy. My arm was still around his neck, my other on his chest. His hands began to slightly shimmy down my shorts and he moaned into the kiss. “S’pretty, darlin’, so..” He mumbled breathlessly, pulling away enough to let me kick off the shorts (albeit, struggling to because of my boots) and for him to shrug off his jacket. Both articles disappeared somewhere into the room to be determined later.

My hands lingered to his hips, reaching up and feeling his toned abs from under his shirt. “Y’so hot, Hobie.” I moaned back, feeling the way his stomach tensed under my fingertips.

“What? like ‘m not meant t’be fit?” He tried to joke as he palmed my tits again.

“Didn’t mean it like that.”

He only responded with a laugh, kissing my neck and collarbone as he removed the bra, thrown to the side and his hands explored downwards in an attempt to remove the last of clothing.

“This aint fair.” I breathed, seeing him still fully dressed.

“Yeh, I know.” He responded, taking his shirt off, another piece lost to the room.

He ended up turning the light off, so the only light in the room was the one radiating from the mirror itself. He looked good like this but I guess that was the point. His face was flushed, it would be hard to tell otherwise if it wasn’t for the heat that it was giving off, you could literally feel it from across the room; his eyes were hyper focused and his lips were swollen slightly.

He leaned forward to kiss me again. “Y’re so beautiful.” He groaned.

“I was about to say the same thing.”

I reached down boldly, my fingers twitching to unbutton his jeans, to pull the zip down, to—

“Y’re gonna hurt y’self.” He joked, swatting my shaking hands away. “Touch yourself f’me.” He asked softly, trying to speak clearly despite his otherwise dishevelled behaviour.

I slid my fingers between my legs, toying with him as he watched between kisses.

“C’mon, darl’.” He purred sweetly. “Work y’self open f’me, please?”

He swallows the moans that leave my mouth as I push my fingers inside, weakly thrusting as he continues to kiss me, hovering over me as he palms his hardness through his jeans.

“Hobie, c’mon.” I groaned, getting impatient with him. All he wanted to do was toy and tease me; holding me closely as his eyes scanned my naked body like a piece of meat, kissing as much of the flesh as he could, longing for the taste and feel under his lips.

“Alr’, alr’.” He drawled finally.

He pulled away enough to create distance between us, we both stood in anticipation, catching our breath slightly as he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled the zip. The jeans themselves were grungy, and his dick freed itself from the tight confines as quickly as it could, shimmying the jeans down to his thighs.

“No underwear? Anarchist goes commando?” I asked breathlessly as I continued to work myself, yet finding humour in comparing him to a militia.

He sucked in a sharp breath. “Y/n. Don’t.” He warned.

“You go pantless just in case some pretty girl would fuck you tonight?”

I poked my tongue out between my teeth, biting down on it slightly, wanting nothing more than to be testing my luck with him. He grabbed my wrists, removing my hand from my insides and holding the sticky, shiny fingers up. It looked filthy in the bright light, he tutted slightly before licking the fingers clean, grinding his hard cock against the slick folds.

He held both my wrists in place, making it impossible for me to fight him with the movement of his hips, he was careful that he wouldn’t accidentally push himself into me, whether or not that accident was with his own free will or not. He was enjoying this, the torturous nature of it all. Yeah, definitely don’t talk back to him.

“Feels s’good like this.” He tried to speak clearly; “Could jus’ fuck you like this, yeah? Cum all over y’r cunt, don’t even go in?”

“I’m sorry.” I quickly spoke when I realised he could just stay like this.

“You’re sorry?”

“Please, Hobie, fuck me real good. I’m sorry, didn’t mean it.” I pleaded, though he could tell the words were only half hearted.

He tried to laugh but it got swallowed into a groan. He threw his head back and released my wrists. “Yeah, yeah. C’mon.” He spoke, finding amusement in it. He hissed slightly at the loss of contact as he turned me around to look in the mirror, bending me over the dressing table.

His breathing quickened as he admired the view of me bent over the table, elbows supporting my weight and my pretty eyes looking up at him through the mirror. He swallowed thickly, still grinding lazily against the wetness as he tried to shimmy his pants down further, they got about a little past his knees before getting snagged on his boots and he realised that it wouldn’t go much further than that.

“Ngh.. Fuck, y’so good.” He struggled out, a low moan erupting from his throat. “Gettin’ m’cock all nice ‘n’wet.”

“Hobie, I’m sorry.” I threw my head forward, not wanting to look at our reflections. “Fuck me, please, want you.”

“I know.” He groaned as he aligned himself. He gave a harsh tug on my hair, forcibly making me look in the mirror. “Look. Watch.” He panted.

He slid his thickness deep inside in one slow, stuttery motion. I watched carefully, my mouth fell open and my eyes threatened to close. His eyebrows knitted together and his mouth mimicked mine, falling agape.

“Oh my fucking god.” I moaned out, unable to hold my head up but quickly felt the tug on my hair as he held my limp neck in position.

He buried himself completely, “Look at how I’m stretchin’ you out, y/n, my darlin’.” He grinned lopsidedly.

He began thrusting slowly, watching the faces that I made, his eyebrows stayed knitted like he was focused on my expressions and nothing else.

“So good, Hobie.” I muttered, my head threatening to dip forward if it wasn’t for his grip on my hair. I tried to squirm away from him and his grip on my hip got tighter. “So big.”

“Yeah?” He spoke condescendingly, relishing at the way I felt around him. “Y’ve been dreamin’ about this, haven’t ya’?”

“Mhm, all the time.” I moaned quietly. “Fantasise about y’so bad.”

“I bet’cha always wondered how good I’d feel buried deep in y’cunt.” He commented, picking up his pace as he felt the warmth swallow him perfectly; it wasn’t necessarily rough or fast, but the size of his cock as it nestled all the way in was almost too much. Almost. “The real things s’much better, ain’t it?”

“Ah! Yes!” I cried, reaching back to push at his hips.

“Takin’ me s’well, darlin’.” He groaned, not letting up. He wasn’t being relentless but the position and the harsh pound of his cock was all too much at once, I closed my eyes tight and he fought the urge to give another harsh tug on my hair.

“S’deep, Hobes, baby—” I groaned, though it was immediately followed by pathetic whines which completely diminished the point I was trying to make.

“Why y’pushin’ at me, sweet thing? What’s wrong?” He teased, knowing damn well that there wasn’t the faintest of an issue.

“So deep.. So big. Slow down.”

“What? Y’don’t think y’can take it?” He joked through slurred speech, giving a particularly harsh thrust.

“Mhm!” I jerked forward with a whine, then feeling the harsh tug on my hair as my body pulled away from his tight grip.

“I think y’can take it jus’ fine.” He continued teasing, still desperately nudging my insides. “M’pricks too big f’you, ain’t it, darlin’?”

I shook my head weakly, keeping my eyes glued on his face as he fucked me from behind. “No, mhm— I can take it.” I struggled out.

“Y’doin’ s’good.” He slurred with a groan.

The audible wet sounds began to fill the dressing room and I could do nothing but let out a pathetic whine as I could feel the sticky liquid make a mess on both our thighs. The slickness was making it easier for him to slide in and out, using it to his advantage to fuck into me even harder. It did nothing to ease the slight slapping sound, and if that door wasn’t soundproof like Hobie claimed, we were probably being louder than the show itself was.

I shook my head weakly, jerking forward at his movements and taking whatever he would give me. “So good. So deep. So big.” I rambled, the only words that my brain could come up with at the given moment.

“I want y’to watch, darlin. Look at y’r pretty face as I fuck you.” He spoke, knowing I wouldn’t be able to open my eyes in the slightest, coming across like nothing but a cock drunk groupie whore, though I guess, it wasn’t far off. “Y’re basically droolin’ for me.”

“Keep talkin’ to me like that, holy shit, make me cum.”

“Eyes up here. On me. Y’got it.” He praised, his harsh tugs became more gentle as he got more stern in keeping my eyes on the view. “Keep lookin’, c’mon, darlin’, look. Y’re s’beautiful. All f’me, look at ya. So fuckin’ gorgeous.”

His voice began to ramble, whines and groans leaving his throat at intervals.

“I’m trying.” I mumbled out; “It’s hard.”

“Darl’, ‘m not gon’ keep tellin ya’ to keep y’head up.” He moaned, removing his hand from my hair and rubbing figure 8’s right where I needed it. “Yeah, y’re gonna take it.” He panted, leaning over my body to press kisses on my shoulder and neck. “Take it, darlin’, doin’ good. Doin’ so good.”

I leaned my head back on his shoulder, looking down through half-lidded eyes at the filthy view of him fucking me into his dressing table.

“See? You can handle watchin y’self gettin’ fucked like a good girl.”

“Hobie, ‘m gonna cum.” I moaned, struggling to watch myself but worried that if I stopped, he’d pull his hands away from me.

“Watch y’self, good girl.” He praised again.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Fuck, can feel y’squeezin’ me.” He whined. “Cum for me, darlin’, s’pretty when y’clench this big cock, yeah? ‘M stretching it out, y’gonna be so perfect f’me.”

I took a bite out of my knuckle as I felt it hit, he slowed down slightly but kept the movements methodical besides the gradual slowing as he praised me throughout it.

“Hobie—” I cried out.

The way I clenched around him made him harshly hold onto my hip, the moans filled the room loudly as he fucked me through the wave. Small purrs of praise were audible but it was almost impossible to focus.

“You right?” He rasped out, slowing his movements to a halt. He would’ve cum right then and there if he didn’t have half the mind to prolong himself.

“Mhm.” I hummed, dazed and confused. “Keep goin’.” I acknowledged, wanting to make him feel good.

“Wish I could fuck a pretty thing like you after all m’shows.” He spoke sweetly in my ear, thrusting up again for his own orgasm, it started slow but he increased his pace when he began riling himself up with ideas. “Tease y’before so y’re all wet and ready when ‘m done.” He laughed softly. “Y’can help me warm up m’fingers for the guitar.”

He spoke softly and calmly as he could, feeling the wetness twitch around him from overstimulation. He kept this slow as he could, knowing that he didn’t want to end things just yet. His dazed eyes tried to memorise every detail he could; hooking up with a groupie meant the chance of never seeing them again, his movements on my clit picking up too; he was desperate to bring me pleasure, he needed this just as much as I did, which was saying a lot.

I weakly tried to keep my head up, watching his face attentively, he looked completely dishevelled with need; something about this was driving him crazy but all I could focus on was how good he felt.

He started kissing my neck again before deciding to ask a question he knew I probably wouldn’t answer otherwise. “Why ain’t you got’a boyfr’nd?” He grunted over my limp body, feeling himself hit the deepest parts and watching me react to it. My vision would go white and I’d jerk into the feeling.

“Don’t want one. Only want you.” I spoke matter-of-factly despite my dazed demeanour.

“Fuck, Y/n, Don’t say that.” He choked. “Wan’ keep you all f’myself.”

I groaned, pressing myself closer against his body. His arms wrapped around my torso, pulling me to stand upright and my arms reached around to touch him the best I could, though his hand stayed glued to the pussy that he’d grown infatuated with.

“Y’re gonna be thinkin’ about this for a long time, yeah?” He breathed. “Gonna think about m’cock fuckin’ into y’cunt?”

“Hobie—”

“I feel y’gettin’ close again. God, want y’so fuckin’ bad.”

His hand took a faster pace than what it previously was, rubbing hard and fast circles into my clit, wanting to feel me be undone on him when he cums.

“Better than I could’ve imagined.” I panted in admission.

“Y’re.. ‘M right there.” He moaned. “Y’so hot, makin’ me s’hard. Gonna make m’cum.”

There was nothing I could do to respond besides lewdly take what he was giving me, nodding weakly and trying to watch the view in front of me. He looked so beautifully debauched, and feeling his ragged breathing against my spine was something I didn’t know I needed to feel, something I unknowingly longed for.

“Mhm, y’can stay wit’ us.” He nodded, as if what he was rambling made any sense. “Bring you along, keep you f’shows. Darlin’, you’d be my perfect li’l groupie..”

His pussy-whipped drunk ramblings sounded like a love confession as he neared his release, knowing he didn’t want it to be over so soon but desperately wanting to feel the warm, tensing tightness around him as he filled me as much as he could.

“I want you, I want you.” I nodded back, too cock-drunk to care.

“Cum f’me, y/n, cum with me, need— Oh fuckin’ shit.”

He groaned as he felt the clenching of my walls around his hard cock, desperately wanting to take him for all he’s got. Give it to me, give it to me, give it to me is the only phrase that repeated in my head as I felt the twitching and nearing signs.

“Give it to me, please, give it to me.” I pleaded through orgasm.

His body shook with want and he forced his eyes to stay open, needing to watch this unfold before him in a weak attempt to convince himself that it was real. Keenly watching the way my face contorted as I came on him, my eyes barely open enough to see the way his face mirrored mine. He let out small pants and whines, before his hips pushed deeply, his hips stuttering weakly as he filled me with his cum.

I felt the warm liquid between my legs, throwing my head back and sighing as I tried to relax from the high. Beautiful afterglow; beautiful boy. He collapsed forward slightly, holding me in place but using one arm to support us.

“It’s a really nice tour bus. Don’t even need y’own bed, just sleep in mine.” He continued in a whisper, pressing a soft kiss into the sticky flesh of my neck, nuzzling the hair away.

We stood for a moment before he pulled a chair from the side of the dressing table, slowly sitting us on it and keeping the position, his arms wrapped around me tightly like he never planned to let go.

I squirmed at the feeling. “Mhm.. Y’think?” I laughed softly; not taking him close to serious.

His eyes were heavy and he continued to look at us in the mirror, an unreadable expression as he buried his head behind my shoulder, his eyes barely poking above the flesh for him to admire the view. “I’m serious.” He mumbled awkwardly before going to a complete whisper. “Stay?”

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dhampling · 2 months

Text

lifeblood 18+ (astarion x fem!reader)

As you step closer and drop the basket on the ground he throws a palm up at you. Short, ragged groans. “That… tea. It’s done something to me. The old wretch.” - astarion discovers an aphrodisiac during a trip to the night market, and only one thing is on his mind. cw: breeding, afab reader, mommy kink (brief), sex pollen, comfort, sexual frustration, zero plot, p in v wc: 2.5k, if there are errors no there aren't; enjoy!

The Night Market is particularly vibrant this evening, people and creatures of all description wandering the streets browsing various wares - and so when Astarion feverishly takes your hand and pulls you away from your browsing in a staggered gait; your immediate thoughts are all telling you to watch for danger.

Wicker basket in arm, flailing as he weaves you both through the tepid mulling crowds - a harsh whisper when you scramble close enough to ask ‘what is it?’ - he’s unrelenting in his pursuit, eyes searching off to each alley and aside between stalls. It’s not until he finds a gated passage a little along that his momentum stops and he drops to his knees to pick the lock; then jumps up and pulls you through with a harsh grasp on your upper arm.

You await the slam. The frantic recollection of whatever it is that has him so wary, the whispers and heads over the gate as you duck your way back home from wherever you’ve now ended up.

Had he been caught thieving? Surely not.

Instead though, he surprises you.

He begins to fiddle with the laces of his trousers. Panting. Brow furrowed into a crease and typically-deft fingers losing hold of the lacing with a pained yowl.

“What is this?”

As you step closer and drop the basket on the ground he throws a palm up at you. Short, ragged groans.

“That… tea. It’s done something to me. The old wretch.”

You bypass his hand and bring the back of your own to his forehead, feeling a clammy sweat atop his brow and a slight heat broiling. The tea you’d turned down around half an hour ago, before you’d split for your own respective market gains.

“Gods - Astarion, the aphrodisiac? Of course it has - you okay?”

As you speak he brings your wrist to his nose and huffs it. A haggard wail. Snorts the salt of your skin and gives a strangled curse. He finishes the laces of his trousers and works to free his cock, looking from it to you in a desperate plea.

“Here? Now? What in the hells is going on?!”

“I can smell it. You. You’re so…’

Another huff. His other hand bounces his cock in his palm, spidery strings of prespill linking pale skin.

‘Fertile. Like a cat in heat. Gods, I- I don’t know what this is.”

His hips rut with insatiable want into the air.

“How do you feel?”

You take him in one hand while wrapping the other around his shoulder in a soothing sail. A few gentle pumps to bring the skin around the head down; a thumb down his slit, literally leaking now. He sobs.

“I’m burning.’

He writhes against the wooden gate, still standing. Tender cries from his wet, wanting mouth.

‘It’s painful. I- I need you. Please.”

“What do you want from me?’

A deliberate, slow jerk; your wrist turning effortlessly.

‘How can I help you, angel?”

For the first time in this whole sorry sequence his eyes meet yours, red turned a dangerous carmine.

“Don’t make me say it.”

You squeeze him in your palm and he wails.

“Maybe I want you to say it.’

He thrusts deeply into your hand and screws his eyes closed, panting in habitual breaths. You lean close to his flushed ear and kitten-lick the inner skin with an intentionally wet tongue.

‘Say it for me. Say it for mummy, darling.’

When the word leaves your lips, his head whips to you furiously. Eyes round and brimming with tears. Bottom lip trembling. Your foreheads meet and you soften. Your poor boy.

‘Do you want this? Or would you like to go home, Astarion? I’ll draw you a bath, we can-”

“I want this. I need- I need to-’

You shuffle away, lifting your skirts and fiddling at your own underclothes to loosen them down your thighs. When he sees your own spool of arousal connecting cunt to cloth he jerks furiously and advances behind you, this time in your ear.

‘Let me fuck you. I’ll make you a mummy. I need to-’

Your fingers disappear deep between your legs, arching your ass into him; and emerge drenched in clear jelly slick - a film connecting them as they splay.

He’s shaking now. He can smell it more vividly than he’s ever been able to smell anything. His hands press over your lower belly; the womb ripe for fertilisation, the way he can envision himself sunk to the hilt and ebbing at the entrance to your cervix, his seed leaking directly into you with each prespill pulse and throb.

‘I need to put a baby in you. I need to breed you.’

He regains control for a brief moment as deft fingers work their way down your front and to the top of your pubic bone. If you were to stop and consider then you know there’s categorically no way he could impregnate you, and even if so; it’s not something you’ve considered to any realistic extent.

‘This won’t go away until I do, sweetheart. I can feel it.”

There’s a solemnity to his whisper, you note. A consideration.

A sadness, maybe?

You wonder how literal he is. If this has triggered some latent need to knock you up. If your fertile days will be spent with him filling you to the brim with his undead spend, over and over; until he somehow manages the impossible.

A stack of crates nearby. They’ll do for this.

You lead him now, a shepherd; to the boxes and hitch your skirts over your ass while you bend over the dry wood.

“If you let me do this, I won’t be able to stop.” Astarion’s voice cracks in the whisper while looking at your glistening cunt with admirable restraint. You feel yourself leaking down the soft skin of your thigh - your own arousal catching on the cool night air.

“I don’t want you to stop.’

He descends on you after a dazed moment to steep in your words, testing the waters with nimble fingers edging between your swollen lips.

‘Fuck me full. Breed me.”

“You’re so ready, aren’t you? Little minx.’

A wretched groan.

‘You want me to get you pregnant? I can feel how ruinously soaked you are - tell me, is this what you want? Have you wanted this for a while?”

When he speaks it’s simply silken. Syrup. His fingers feel excruciatingly good as they round your lust-engorged clit, babbling nonsense in a lusty haze.

“Gods. Yes. Yes. Please, please fuck me. Spill into me.”

The fingers are merely customary. He knows what he wants, and you want it too. Each wanton wiggle of your hips, each brush against your ass cheeks. The blunt head of his cock settles just broaches your entrance as you hear him suckle on his fingertips coyly behind you.

A low hum of approval.

“Good. My darling girl.”

On darling, he begins his relentless campaign.

Once settled at the hilt he stops for a moment in a weighty groan, eyes rolling back into his skull as you turn over your shoulder. His hands settle in a firm grasp on your hips. At this moment he’s determined. Needy. Your cunt is the relief he so desperately seeks and he takes a second to adjust so he can hump you properly. To ensure the seed settles once he’s gathered the momentum to have it spurt deep into your womb.

He feels ridiculously good like this.

Like a meal to the starving, water in the desert. The wet glubs accompanying his shallow thrusts are evidentiary to just how much you need this. Him buried inside you - rattling on like a madman. Talks like his mind will never be the same again.

The only thing in his brain being the unfettered desire to make you round.

“I’ll take you back here again, in a few months. When you’re- when you’re round and aching. Keep your arm in mine at all times so- so they all know just who did this to you.’

A few shallow ruts before he ploughs back in deep.

‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I- I feel your heart racing, darling. You want my babies? You want to make me a daddy?’

He cants his hips at the breech of your cervix, not pulling back, simply moving to adjust himself inside you. Ensuring his prespill leaks into your waiting womb with each rock of his pelvis.

‘Because I’m feral thinking about making you a mother. All glowy and swollen, my baby inside you.”

His clammy hand slaps your ass, heavy balls smacking on your clit with his terse thrusts.

“I- I want it. I need it. Please.”

Your moans are directly into the dry wood, face now pressed to the side against the crates. Lips swollen from your own attempts to bite back your lewd proclamations. Spit forming a glob of drool in the resting corner.

You’re smiling. Beaming. Gods.

Had you wanted this? Had it been some subconscious desire of yours to mother his children? Has some sketchy tea from a Night Market vendor done this to you through his prespill seeping in? Made you realise just how you wanted your life with him to look?

You’ve not planned for this, but no fear overwhelms you at the thought of the possible outcome of your breeding session. The thought of him sat beaming over your child. The most beautiful man you’ve ever seen; yours, your family, everyone knowing your devotion to each other in the most lifelong sense. Infallible and real and capable of producing something beyond yourselves.

As he continues his pursuit you wonder if they’ll have his eyes. Fangs. Dhampir aren’t a common breed. They’re far too difficult to rear.

But there’s something potent in the way he piles into you where you can begin to see an entire brood of them. Dhampir.

The sheer determination behind his smacks, the way you ass burns each time his palm meets it in a sharp slap. His chuntering warbles - moans, grunting, the light pleading;-

The light pleading.

He’s reaching around your front and holding your lower belly as he fucks you, a slight falter to his pacing.

Poor thing.

“Feed.” You whimper, brushing all hindrances from your neck and arching into him once more so he stops his thrusting.

“I- I can’t. I can’t risk it not taking. This isn’t going away, love.”

His voice cracks, a desperation once more.

“I said feed. Feed on me, my angel. Then fuck me full of you.”

He keeps inside you as he leans over your back, hands moving to feel for your nipples under your blouse and lightly jerking the peaking skin. He stills for a moment in an attempt to regain some of himself.

“Yes, mother.”

You both fall about laughing until he corrects your stance with an urgent tug and waits no time to sink his teeth into the long-standing wounds on your neck.

From his position he can’t thrust, stretched over your back like some heavy battlecloak of old.

You warm him with genuine delight at no risk of him growing soft and feel the way his pretty cock pushes against your ridges in the most minute way. His suckling from you in order to eke out your lifeblood, becoming his own once swallowed. The saccharine pool of metal red gathering under his tongue with each lap.

Once finished, he lifts with renewed vigour. Wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and cackles something wicked.

He gives you no time to adjust before he resumes his conquest on your body, a brutal thrust giving you cause to wince into the crates below you. You whip your head around to sneer at him which earns you a sheepish smile.

Each snap brings you closer. The white heat boiling, spluttering in your gut threatens to spill with each mutter from his blood-smeared mouth.

“I’m close.” You whimper.

He leans over you once more.

“Milk it from me, love. Cum for me.”

The whisper tips you over. Each rolling tidal wave of ecstasy as his thumb strokes the side of your distended clit is molten in extremity, each clench of your cunt vice-like around him. His roaring laughter ecstatic as he rides you through your peak like some seasoned rancher.

Whoever has set up stall by the alley is definitely aware of your brutal fucking. The thought of them discovering you has you in near shambles as you reach the end of climax. Being discovered. Something else that’s relatively new to you, but not unpleasant.

Then, he gasps. Trembles. Shatters. Through the haze of your orgasm you feel him stutter on weak legs and the vulnerability you’ve come to know so well has blinked back into the frame.

“Tell me I can. Now. Quick.”

“Knock me up. You can do it, baby.”

Eyes still round, Astarion humps your ass in anticipation one more time and spills with such force it sends him reeling into audible ecstacy. Each twitch of his cock inside you milky smooth in your combined secretion, blood-pinkened slit spurting, the sheer control as he presses impossibly deep into your waiting cunt. You find yourself rolling back in your own delirium.

His orgasmic rutting doesn’t stop for a long while. A series of beleaguered moans, the way his humming pitches with each slap of his hips; each of his taps against your cervix causing you to clench further and therefore feeding the cycle.

When he does eventually stop, his face buries in between your shoulderblades; arms wrapping around your waist. Silence.

“Astarion, love - are you okay?”

A feeble whisper. Back still arched, his weight on you.

“I’m- I’m so sorry.”

There’s a teary singe to his quiet words, reverent kisses planted on your own now-sweat laden skin. He sniffs.

“It’s okay! We all make mistakes. She did say it was an aphrodisiac, to be fair to her. Is it still affecting you?”

“No, not that.”

“Then what?”

He sniffs once more and wipes his face with the back of his hand, using your hips as leverage to stand.

“I- This. All this. I didn’t want it to come out like this, ideally.”

You shuffle a little and he slips from between your legs, taking your underwear from the floor and turning to face him whilst you roll the garment over your thighs.

“What? That you have a raging breeding fetish?”

He taps your arm lightly and laughs a little, lacing up his breeches.

“Well. Kind of?’

He pulls a face and brings you close, moon overhead gleaming in the cool night. A slight breeze.

‘I don’t know what I want, per se; but I think I like the idea of… Well. This.’

His hands roll over one another as he plants a soft kiss atop your head. You lick your thumb and wipe any remaining blood traces from his lips.

‘It feels ridiculously sordid and entirely dangerous, but the moment that… stuff hit my blood I knew what I needed. I could smell you miles off. Still can.”

“You want to put a dhampir in me?” You laugh, waggling your fingers near his face. He groans.

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope.’

You kiss the back of his hand as you reach for the discarded basket.

‘Not until you’ve done it, anyway.”

#my writing #astarion x reader #astarion x female reader #astarion x tav #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #astarion ancunin #nsft

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jamiewintons · 8 months

Text

Sex with Sanji would include…

Requested by: Anonymous Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY) Sanji Tag List: @elizabeth-hatake @mhsofe @nubigenouss (Fill out this form to join!)

●Sanji is pretty experienced, which leads to him being incredibly skilled and confident in bed (or wherever else the two of you decide to have your fun). He knows exactly how to make you feel good, and he’s very proud of that fact, so he can’t help but be a little smug when he gives you yet another mind-blowing orgasm.

●He talks a lot during both make-out sessions and sex. Like he’ll often whisper in your ear, his voice lower than usual with arousal, telling you how good you feel and how much he loves being with you like this. He’ll talk you both to and through your orgasm(s), usually throwing a few ‘good girl’s in there.

●Sanji loves to praise you all throughout sex, calling you all kinds of pet names and constantly telling you how wonderful and beautiful you are. He can’t ever bring himself to degrade you, because in his mind, it’s not only insulting but lying. You’re an absolute goddess in his eyes, so why would he ever tell you any different?

●He could spend hours upon hours just worshipping your body, covering you in kisses and caressing every inch of you. Literally every part of you is perfect to him, and he’ll especially focus on areas that he knows you’re insecure about, because he needs you to know that you’re gorgeous.

●When he’s inside of you, Sanji pretty much always has his hands firmly on your hips, though he’ll sometimes have one free to trail down your back or to gently stimulate your breasts.

●Speaking of Sanji’s hands, one of he easiest ways to get him turned on (apart from like… existing) is to put his fingers in your mouth. Especially when you look up at him with wide, pleading eyes while you do it. Like the man will be hard in an instant.

●Expect Sanji to give you a lot of neck kisses, because he loves them. He also likes to give you a hickey or two so everyone knows that you’re his, and when he sees any of the marks he left on you when you’re in public, it drives him absolutely insane.

●He’s both excellent at and greatly enjoys eating you out. Like he could do it all day every day, whether he’s on his knees in front of you, between your legs in bed, or has you sitting on his face. He definitely moans while he’s doing it, and has probably cum at least once just from hearing the way you beg and moan for him while he’s going down on you.

●When it comes to sex positions, Sanji is happy to do whatever brings you the most pleasure, but if it came to picking his own favourite it would have to be when you ride him. There’s just so many wonderful things about it - it allows you to control the speed and intensity so you can prove how much you want him, the way your breasts move while you bounce on his cock, the perfect view it gives of your face when it’s contorted in pleasure…

●Sanji also likes to take you from behind, but only when you’re sat up with your back pressed against his chest with his strong arms wrapped firmly around you. He’ll have his lips pressed up against your ear, whispering dirty things to you and occasionally gently nibbling on your earlobe.

●Of course, with Sanji being the amazing chef he is, you can’t go wrong with a little bit of foodplay. He loves to cover areas of your body with whipped cream before slowly and sensually licking it off. You do the same to him sometimes, though things often escalate quicker during those times because you don’t have the same amount of self-control that he does.

●There’s definitely been times while you’re in the kitchen together while Sanji’s testing out a new dessert recipe, and he offers you a taste. You reject the spoon and end up licking batter off his fingers, which leads to him getting turned on… and then you have sex on the kitchen counter.

●Sanji absolutely loves it when you get all desperate and beg for him. Sometimes he’ll tell you to beg for him if you want him to continue, but nothing turns him on more than when you start begging for him without any prompting.

●He’s soooo sweet after sex, like he’ll cuddle you and pepper kisses all over your face and neck while he tells you how wonderful you were. He’ll stay with you as long as you want, and will be happy to run you a bath if you want one.

#sanji x reader #opla sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #black leg sanji x reader #opla x reader #one piece x reader #opla imagine #opla headcanons #mari's stuff #nsft text #x reader smut #x reader headcanon #x reader headcanons

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dreamingofep · 2 months

Text

A Blue Velvet Crush

(Elvis/Austin!Elvis × reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

TW: Cussing, teasing, SMUTTT, fingering

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)

Word Count: 5.4K

A/N: Hello everyone! This picture of Elvis lives rent free in my head and I knew when I first saw it, I had to write something for it.

If you've never seen some of this performance, I'd recommend watching! I'll make another post with the youtube link!

Thank you again❤️

Sorry for any spelling mistakes or goofs.

Mississippi, September 26th, 1956

Traffic was backed up for miles and the buzz in the air was electrifying. You couldn’t hide your nerves though. You weren’t even supposed to be here today but by the grace of God, you got thrown in the ring and had to cover today’s most important story. Elvis Presley was back in his hometown of Tupelo, Mississippi to perform a charity concert. His rise to fame seemed to happen overnight and everyone was dying to see him in person.

You were just an intern at the Tupelo Mirror and your supervisor that was running the Elvis story got sick this morning. Eric called you at the crack of dawn, frantic that no one was going to be there to take pictures. You had only been at the newspaper for a month and a half, you didn’t want to overstep your role and be too forward, but you mentioned that you have photography experience. You ran your college photography club and were majoring in journalism. You know you can take some decent shots of him. You try to sell yourself, affirming you can do this! The whole reason you were working for the newspaper was to get a better shot of getting a job at a newspaper company after you graduated. You thought this would be the perfect way to gain the experience. And if you got some good pictures of Elvis Presley? That could change your whole life.

You did have a fondness of the man but like, who didn’t at your age? He was the new cool guy who was causing havoc wherever he went. He was talented and had this luring sense about him. You hadn’t ever seen him in person, but based on the few televised appearances he’s made, he was beyond incredible. You knew he had a talent that no one had ever had. Your parents would always make a fuss if you were watching him and tried to make you feel bad for it.

“No Christian boy should be moving like that! It’s abhorrent.” Your parents used to say.

You’d just roll your eyes and grumble under your breath. Your parents didn’t understand that he was something young people could love and be fully immersed in without having to act all prim and proper about it. There was no other artist that would make you feel the way Elvis made his audiences feel. He was passionate and he felt the music to his very soul. It showed so easily he didn’t have to say he loved what he was doing.

And now you were going to be feet away from Elvis, taking his picture and maybe even getting the chance to ask him a few questions. The cars started moving forward more and before you could get through the gates, a police officer stopped you. You rummaged through your satchel and pulled out your press pass. He quickly nodded and directed you to the portion of the lot where other photographers and press reporters were gathered. You quickly find a spot and throw your car in park. You throw your satchel over your head and grab your camera out of its bag. It wasn’t the most high-end camera but it took nice pictures. You double-checked the camera had enough film and quickly made a beeline to the stage.

There were thousands of people here already and the buzz in the air was electric. You saw girls jumping up and down giddy that they were about to see Elvis live. You had some of the men standing next to them with a bored expression on their faces like they didn’t want to be there. You had to play it cool though. You had your press badge on and the last thing you needed was for someone to see you acting giddy when you had to be professional today.

There was a corralled section for the press behind ropes that gave you a bit better access on the side of the stage but it was still very crowded. Not only that, but it was all men here and they were all significantly taller than you. You couldn’t see a damn thing from this area and became worried you weren’t going to be able to get one good photograph of this entire thing!

You try to push and shove your way closer to the front but just get these condescending looks toward you and don’t budge an inch for you. You didn’t expect anything less honestly, the industry was made up of men and wasn’t exactly kind to women entering the workplace. You shake it off, not letting it get to you too much.

The audience starts screaming as the band takes their place on stage. It’s a small band with just a drummer, bassist, and guitar player. They’re all smiles when they hear the crowd go wild for them. Your eyes are focused on the side of the stage though. You want to get the first glimpse of him when he gets on this stage.

The audience continues to grow antsy and an announcer hops on stage. He steps in front of the microphone at center stage and taps it with his finger.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I know you all are very excited to have one of our very own from Tupelo be here today. I need you to give a warm welcome to Elvis Presley.”

The crowd erupts at his name and everyone bursts out in insane excitement. You keep your eyes on the side of the stage and you raise the camera to your face, getting ready for the first shot.

The audience gets louder and you feel the hair on your arms rise. There you see him. He’s dressed in a velvety blue long-sleeve and loose black slacks with his perfect white oxfords. His hair was greased back and looked shiny. He had his guitar on and made his way to the microphone. From this angle, he looked so tall, his legs easily gliding him across the stage.

He carried this nervous energy about him tho. He puts his hand in his pocket and grabs the microphone with the other hand.

Click.

He starts Heartbreak Hotel and drives the place insane. Everyone is screaming and some girls are even crying. His voice rings out flawlessly and once he starts singing, there’s no stopping him. He can’t seem to stand still. Whether it’s the music moving him or the nerves, he is shaking and moving, making the crowd even more insane.

There are times when the screams overpower his voice coming through the microphone. He has an amused look on his face the whole time though. Especially when he swings his hips and makes the girls go bezerk. You catch yourself blushing at those moves, how he can move his hips so easily as he makes these in-passion faces. He made you feel something you’ve never felt before. It was bad, it was lust driving you to keep looking at what he was going to do next. You wanted him to move more to see just how those hips would move in other circumstances…

Click.

Fucking focus.

He wasn’t afraid to get close to his fans. It looked like he really loved them. You could tell he moved his leg just to get them going and have them look there. Or how he’d say a certain word and prolong it all sensually, it drove the place nuts. Even just the way he held the microphone and dragged it along beside him. He commanded that stage by doing the smallest things. Elvis walks slowly to the edge of the stage where dozens of fans reach out their hands for him. He gets close and reaches out his hand too, still singing and never missing a beat.

Click.

You get the side profile of him but you think it’s going to be a great picture when it develops. What you really want is a perfect picture of his face straight onto the camera. That would be a great way to solidify that you are a great photographer and can do this professionally.

Elvis finishes his set and gets rushed off stage into the building behind the arena. You follow the crowd that’s trying to get to him, hoping you can get another picture of him that’s even better than the ones you took. The other photographers aren’t paying any attention to you and push and shove their way through. You huff annoyed, hoping you can get in there before they close the doors.

You find a spot on the side but all the men in here are so much taller and crowding Elvis. You slump by the door, frustrated that you might have ruined your big chance to prove yourself at the newspaper as you haven’t gotten a single shot of his face straight on. You wanted to the perfect shot and it seems your opportunity was wasted.

“Alright everyone it’s time to leave. Elvis won’t be answering any more questions,” a man bellows. Most of the men try to protest but they slowly start to funnel out of the door. You continue to get pushed aside until you’re almost behind the door. You don’t move from behind there because, for a brief second, a devious idea pops into your head.

Just stay here long enough for everyone to leave and ask for a picture when he’s alone.

Your heart pounds away at just the thought of being alone with Elvis but you had to try it. The worst he could say was no and get out.

The last few remaining men shuffle out of the room and Elvis yells out that he’ll be right out. The door shuts closed, making your little hiding spot be exposed in plain sight.

Elvis had his back to the door so he didn’t see you right away. You sighed in relief for that but had to work up the courage to say something to him.

What exactly should you say in this situation? ‘Hi I snuck in your dressing room even though I was told to get out, can I take a few pictures of you for the newspaper?’

You cringed just thinking about it. You took a few deep breaths and straightened out your dress.

“Umm, excuse me, Elvis?” You say sheepishly.

He turns around quickly at the sound of your voice and stares wide-eyed at you. He doesn’t say anything right away and neither do you because seeing him this close and in person is too much.

He is beautiful, in every shape and form, he is beautiful. You’ve never seen such a handsome-looking man before in your life and have no words. Logical thinking went out the window with him and he looks at you with the same expression on his face. You haven’t said more than four words to him but you want him. You want him to look at you and touch you and never stop. Your core flutters at that scandalous thought.

“You scared me there honey. H-how’d you get in here?” He asks with a mischievous grin forming on his face.

“W-w-well I uhhh. Well, I work for the newspaper and I was wondering if I could take a few more pictures of you?” You ask nervously. A long silence fills the room and you are about to turn on your heels and run for the door when he gives you another cheeky smile.

“Sure, I don’t mind at all. What was your name lil’ darlin’?” He asks smoothly.

Lil’ darlin’.

Jesus Christ I’m not going to make it out of here alive with all his charm suffocating me.

“Oh gosh Elvis, thank you so much. This truly means so much to me. And my name is y/n.” You tell him in a hurry. You make sure your camera is on and ready before you look back up at him watching you intently.

“Y/n… that’s very pretty…Where’d you want me, honey?” He coos.

Your heart pounds in your ears and you can’t register anything he just said. All you can do is look at him in shock and can’t believe you’re alone with him. You know how many thousands of girls would kill for a moment like this? And the question he just asked?! Ooh, the sheer audaciousness he has. He knows he's irresistable.

I'd love you to cover me in kisses with those pillowy soft lips...

“Huh?” You say in a daze.

“Where did you wanna take my picture honey? You’re the photographer and all,” he teases. You feel the heat rise to your cheeks and you nervously look down at your camera.

“Oh yeah… sorry… I’ve never really done this,” you admit. His eyebrows shoot up surprised, “First time? Wow, that’s somethin’ for a little lady coming here and coverin’ a story on a day like this. The whole town is making a huge fuss over me, I don’t think deserve it, but it’s very special either way. I’ll make sure to give you the best pictures,” he winks. It feels like your heart just about stopped by that one minuscule movement.

Stop that. Stop that right now!

You sweetly smile up at him and move further into the room, trying to see what angle and lighting would be best. The wall behind him was blue and you thought that would be a perfect backdrop to accentuate the velvet shirt he was wearing and his piercing blue eyes.

“Umm, let’s try with you stand there. I think that would be a nice background,” you say.

He casually takes a few steps back and puts his hands in his pockets.

“Like this?” He asks. You raise the camera to your face, make sure the frame is straight, and push the button.

Click.

He looked good without even trying. He had this golden aura about him. Like he shined from within. He was remarkable and you know that without saying much else to him. Even if you didn’t like him already, you can see the appeal. He was so easy to love. So easy to be around. Everything about him was inviting and warm. You don’t know how you were going to peel yourself away from him…

“Okay, how about one smiling?” You ask. He nods his head and gives you this cute cheeky smile.

Click.

God help me I can’t breathe with this man around looking this good.

“How are they comin’ out honey?” He asks, his southern inflection on honey making you feel like the actual word.

“Oh, just fine. I think they’re going to be amazing when printed,” you try to say casually.

“Oh good… what are you doin’ working for the newspaper?” He asks, fixing the sides of his hair with a comb.

Click.

“I don’t work for the newspaper, not yet at least. I’m just an intern. I’m a student at the University of Mississippi studying journalism and thought it would help to work there for a bit so when I graduate in two years, I can hopefully get a job at a newspaper,” you explain.

He intently looks at you, interested in everything you have to say, “That’s wonderful honey. I think that’s great you’re pursuing that. I don’t doubt for a second you won’t get a job anywhere you apply for,” he says sweetly. You can’t help but blush at his nice words and fiddle with your camera.

“Thank you, Elvis,” you say quietly. He walks over to the sofa that’s up against the wall and casually takes a seat.

He stretches out one arm along the back of the couch and the other rests on the arm of it. His legs were spread open and your eyes can’t help but stare at them. They were so long and he exuded sensuality, it nearly made you dizzy. He sees how you’re looking at him, intrigued with the man that so many found attractive.

You raise the camera to your eye once again as he looks down the lens intensely.

Click.

You felt like screaming like those girls were earlier. You’ve never felt so attracted to someone’s presence. It kind of scared you in a way.

He moves on the sofa slightly, bringing his hand to his mouth and giving you this luring, sultry gaze.

Oh lord, I’m a dead woman…

Click.

He doesn’t change this pose after the flash goes off, he continues to sit there with his eyes drinking you in. Your body can’t take this, the tension in the room is palpable and you are seriously considering running out now since you have plenty of good shots. Elvis slowly starts to lower his hand from his mouth and you see he was biting his lip behind it this whole time. He slowly drags his teeth across it before letting it go with a pop.

“Anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are?” He asks softly.

You can’t hide your flushed cheeks anymore and lower the camera from your face to see if he’s being serious. His eyes look heavy and somber, but he cracks a little grin to lighten the mood.

“Oh, no… not something I normally hear,” you say insecurely.

“That’s a shame darlin’, you really are. You have the most gorgeous smile, beautiful eyes, and the longest legs I’ve ever seen,” he gushes.

I’m dead. I’ve gone to heaven and died. This can’t be happening!

“Well thank you very much. I could say the same for you,” you say coyly.

His eyebrows raise at the blunt remark and chuckles softly to himself. He lowers his hand off the back of the sofa and places it on the empty space beside him, looking at it, then looking back up at you. He doesn’t need to say another word, he pulls you in without trying.

You carefully place your camera on the table and take your bag off your shoulder. You make your way to sit beside him as your heart gallops like a racing horse.

He turns his body a bit to face you more and being this close to him is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. You have to hold your breath or he might notice how nervous you are.

“No guy back home telling’ you how pretty you are hmm?” He says, tucking back stands of hair behind your ear. All you can do is shake your head no. His fingertips barely graze the lobe of your ear but it makes you feel weak anyway. The arousal dripping from your core is not helping the situation and not letting you think clearly.

“Oh, well I’m sorry men are so blind over there. I think you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he quips, giving you a cheeky smile. “The most pretty eyes, the most pretty nose, the most pretty pink lips I’ve ever seen,” he coos, leaning in closer until you can feel his breath on your lips.

You can’t take it anymore and lean in, devouring his lips with yours. You let out a deep breath as your mouth touched his, his lips feeling softer than you could have ever possibly imagined. He was so gentle with his kiss, making sure he wasn’t overstepping your boundaries. But you didn’t care about that. You screamed for more from him. More kisses, more long heated stares, more everything.

You boldly, place your hand on his bicep, pulling yourself closer to him. He responds to your touch and you can tell he likes it. His crushed velvet shirt felt nice underneath your fingertips and felt his toned arms. He places his hand on your cheek, pulling you in with more urgency. You feel breathless, loving the way his skin makes yours feel like it’s on fire.

Elvis softly pulls away, not before biting your bottom lip and letting a sigh slip out of his mouth.

“Those lips darlin’, I could kiss them all day,” he mutters, his eyes heavy with lust.

“What’s stopping you?” You whimper. He grins and pulls you in once more.

You can’t believe any of this is real. The way he is kissing you should not feel so good and yet it does. You put both of your hands on his chest, pulling him closer to you by the collar of his shirt. His hands start to roam along your back, feeling the curve of it and how well this dress fits you. Every inch of you wants his hands placed lower. Right at the spot that is yearning for friction from those perfect hands.

He starts to drag one of his hands to your hip, squeezing there then down the top of your thigh. Need coursed through you and you couldn’t help but open your legs a tad bit. You’re not sure if he noticed, but he let out a pleased hum as he kissed you with more intensity.

You needed to feel him. You needed to feel how soft his skin would be when it’s pressed against yours. Your hand sneaks into his shirt and feel the coarse little chest hairs he had there. You were right, his skin felt perfect and it only made you crave more. You snake your hand lower and onto the top of his thigh. You make the same movements he’s doing to you and you feel his body melt at your touch.

You move your hand a bit lower and go to caress the inside part of his thigh and you freeze.

“Oh…” you moan into his mouth.

What you felt underneath your fingertips made you cry in need of him. Dear God, he was blessed in more ways than one. He was so much longer than you expected and it made your heart leap out of your chest. His cock was warm and fully hard in his pants as your fingertips slowly start to rub against him. You pull away from his lips and have to look at what your hand is feeling.

You were going to die and see the pearly gates if you tried to have that inside of you. But God you didn’t care, you wanted him so bad. You’ve never wanted a man like this in your entire life. Looking up at Elvis, he looks calm and collected, still giving you a heated stare. He looks down at your hand, then back up to you with an innocent look about him.

“You like what you feel baby?” He asks low. You take a deep breath before answering him.

“Y-yes. Yes, I do…” you say softly, your hand moving along him more. He lets out a pleased groan and adjusts his hips slightly, liking the feeling of your touch on him.

“Do you want more? Do you want to feel what it’s like inside of you?” He coos, leaning in for a soft kiss that leaves you dizzy. Your breathing felt erratic and the ache you had in your core only worsened.

“Yes please Elvis… please,” you beg. He smirks at you and kisses your neck, sending a shock of electricity through you.

“Can I see what you’re wearin’ underneath this pretty dress honey?” He asks you. You nod your head and his fingers find the zipper of your dress easily. He slowly pulls it down and pulls down the fabric off the front of your body. You help him slip you out of your dress and sit there with your white bra and panties left on. He lets out a pleased little groan as he sees you sitting there, trembling with need. He gently touches your exposed skin, leaving little goosebumps behind. He touches your breasts gently, biting his lip as both of his hands cup them and start to play with your nipples through the fabric of your bra. You can’t help but lean into his touch loving every second of this.

He places a soft kiss on top of your breast as he reaches around and unclips your bra. He quickly puts one of your nipples in his mouth and sucks on it, groaning as he does so. Your back arches into his mouth, craving so much more from him. His other hand roams your body but only focuses on the top half of you. Your core was dripping with arousal and aching to be touched by those long fingers. You guide one hand between your legs and have him put pressure there.

You gasp instantly, his touch feeling better than you could have imagined but also realize you’ve soaked through your panties. He takes his mouth off of you and pulls away to look down at his hand.

“Fuck honey, how long have you been soaked like this?” He grumbles, his two fingers sliding up and down through your covered folds and creating the most delicious friction.

“Since I saw you moving on that stage,” you admit weakly.

He chuckles softly, “Oh honey, why didn’t you tell me sooner… this pussy just weepin’ for me?” He asks as his fingers slide the elastic of your panties to the side and expose your leaking core to him.

“Yes,” you moan. He nods his head and slowly pushes a finger inside of you. You both groan together, filling you so nicely. Your hips rock into his hand, needing everything he can give you.

You throw your head back as he adds another finger inside of you.

“Elvis,” you moan, your chest heaving for more. He watches you intently, liking how on edge you are for him. His fingers twist and curl inside of you and you gasp for air. He likes what he’s doing and can’t get enough got you either.

“You feel so nice and wet baby. Can I give you my cock now?” He asks.

“Please, I want you Elvis, please give it to me,” you beg, reaching for his belt and unfastening it. He pulls down your panties and you lift your hips to help him get them off. You then work on the button of his pants and slide down the zipper. He lifts his hips up too to take them off and you watch as his cock comes out. Oh God, you were weak by just looking at it. His pink tip was peeking out from his foreskin and clear precum started to dribble down his length. His hand wraps around his length and spreads some of that slickness around the tip of him, moving his hand up and down slowly. You look back into his intense eyes and don’t know what to say.

“You want to ride me, honey?” He asks. The look on your face must have shown the apprehension you had thinking about taking him like that. He rubs his thumb along your cheek and smirks at you.

“It’ll feel so good baby. You’re so wet for me, you’re going to cover my cock in your sweet honey and make us feel so good,” he groans as you watch him swirl his thumb around the tip of his cock. A pent-up moan escapes your lips and quickly straddle his hips, needing him more than ever.

He rubs his length through your folds, covering him in your arousal and making you both moan with the sensation. You hold onto his shoulders and press kisses to his cheek. You feel him line himself up to your entrance and hold your hips. Elvis looks up at you with need and his eyes are begging you to have him. You felt the heat of him pressed there against your entrance and you can’t wait any longer. You start to sink down on his impressive length, moaning as you take the first few inches. He felt so good, filling you so completely and stretching out your tight entrance. He throws his head back onto the couch and groans as you take him, squeezing your hips tightly.

The sounds he makes when he’s getting pleased goes straight to your head. You love the way he groans as you move slowly on him. You never knew you could be so attracted to the sound of a man getting pleased. You take more of him inside you and cry out his name, overwhelmed it can be feeling this good.

“You feel so good, honey. You like how my cock feels inside you?” He groans into your ear. You gasp as his hips move up into you, stuffing more of his length inside of you.

“Yes, oh fuck yes,” you cry out.

You move faster on him, wanting more of him and feeling your walls fluttering each second. His eyes watch how your breasts bounce as you’re riding him, drunk at the very sight of you. You close your eyes, overwhelmed with all the sensations he’s giving you and those eyes only make it worse and worse.

Your hips grind at the base of his cock and you both whimper. Your clit rubs at the base of him and you feel your walls start to clench around him. You ride him harder, chasing the high of your orgasm. You look back into his eyes, desperate for him to help you.

“E-Elvis… oh please,” you beg.

“Come darlin’, I wanna feel you come for me,” he groans as he snaps his hips into you, causing his cock to get deeper inside you.

You whimper in agony, not being able to hold on much longer. His hands are back on your hips and help you move more. Your breathing is ragged and your vision is blurry, you thrust a few more times on him and you feel your body shudder hard. Your walls squeeze around his length and cry out his name like he’s your saving grace. He groans with you, loving how good you feel around him. He helps you rock your hips into him more, making you come more than you ever have in your life. Your head feels dizzy and your body feels like it’s floating. You never knew a man could make you feel this good.

You keep riding him and don’t want to stop. He was still making these sinful sounds that sent a pulse straight to your pussy as you hear him getting pleased by you. He bites his lower lip as he stares at you, beaded sweat gathering at his temples and his breathing becoming more frantic.

“Ah, honey you feel so damn good. I need to come now,” he says gruffly. He picks you up off of him and has you stand in between his open legs. He grabs his cock in his hand once more and starts to jerk himself off, staring at you with need. You wanted to touch him again, feel the warmth of his length fill your hand. You boldly get on your knees and take his hand off of himself. You wrap your small hand around him and his eyes roll back in his head. Your wetness covered his length and made it easy to move your hand on him. You angle his length toward your chest and he bucks his forward and falls apart. His seed comes out in thick, hot, spurts and lands on your chest. He groans loudly and cusses under his breath with each stroke of your hand.

“Oh yes honey, yes,” he moans.

He’s trying to calm down and regain his normal breathing but your thumb continues to tease his extra sensitive head. He groans in agony, loving and hating how you’re playing with him.

“God honey I-I-I ain’t never felt so good,” he sighs. “Come here,” he says opening his arms to you.

You get up and sit on his thigh, your spilling arousal making a mess on him. You wince when you feel the wetness spread on him and look up at him with an innocent smile.

“Sucha messy lil’ girl hmm?” He teases.

“Mhmm, you’re quite messy too,” you quip, looking down at your chest with him covering it.

He laughs amused, “Well, you felt too good what can I say,” he says cutely, placing a soft kiss on your lips.

“I had to say thank you in some way for letting me take some pictures of you,” you say shyly.

“Oh, you didn’t need to, but I’m so thankful you did,” he winks.

You kiss each other more, reveling in this moment together, not wanting it to end so soon. But you knew he had other places to be, you couldn’t keep him in here forever.

“I don’t want to keep you from your day. The whole town is so happy you’re here,” you smile.

“Thanks, honey. It’s nice to be celebrated in sucha nice way,” he says caressing your face, “but this might have been my favorite thing I got today.” He says cutely.

“And what’s that?” You ask smartly.

“You, my new favorite reporter.”

Tagging:

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@returntopresley. @iloveelvis @rjmartin11 @that-hotdog @louisejoy86 @misspresley @cattcb @annapresley8

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#elvis presley #elvis fans #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presely smut #elvis smut #elvis x you #elvis x y/n #elvis x reader #50s elvis #elvisaaronpresley #elvis imagine #elvis fic #elvis fluff

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nyyrami · 24 days

Text

MELLOWING ON THE PAST DOES NO ONE ANY GOOD…

𓏲 synopsis. mellowing on the past wasn’t good. shoko most of all knew that. she’d encountered loss time and time again, she couldn’t help but ponder on the dead…

𓏲 tags. wc. 0.9k satoru gojo x reader. reader dies obviously. everyone’s dead. canon timeline kinda. shoko is depressed. horrible mental health. smoking. descriptions of dead body. morgue. angst angst angst. shoko pov. mentions of suguru.

𓏲 a/n. scrolling through Pinterest and thought of this after seeing a sad shoko post. don’t blame me. blame the app…

IN SOME distant fantasy land, shoko married a prince. A prince of some mighty kingdom where he had all the money in the world and all the alcohol she would ever need. In some distant world she lived her best life, doing what she loved best, surrounded by her family, her parents. She would be loved and cared for, safe and content.

In her wildest dreams of course. She would love that fabled life she wanted to so desperately to live. Instead she lived in Tokyo and she was a Jujutsu Sorcerer and she most definitely did not have her family or her parents surrounding her.

She sighed, blowing a puff of grey smoke out of her mouth throwing the shrivelled cigarette into the dustbin. Oh yes. In another life, she would quit her smoking habit. She wouldn’t inhale the toxic fumes any more and she’d be free of her addictions.

Walking towards the sink in the morgue, she wiped the blood of her hands. It stuck underneath her fingernails and permanent shaded her fingers a light red. Forever a reminder of her job.

It could’ve been worser though, she thinks. She could’ve been like satoru or even nanami, dying in action in gruesome horrible ways. Maybe that fate would be better, instead of witnessing the dead corpse of her friends.

You lay on the embalming tables awaiting an autopsy waiting for the cause of your death to be found. It was clear though. The moment Itadori walked into the room carrying your lifeless body, it had been clear what had killed you. The hole where your heart should have been was large, so large she could see the table beneath you.

She looked you over once more before she shook her head. It was comical to say the least, you looked so peaceful, as if you were sleeping. Anyone could’ve mistaken you for resting. Anyone but her. She knew a dead person when she saw one and the blue of your once red lips was clear evidence.

Once, those lips would’ve been curled into a smile. Or they would be cracking a joke with satoru. You’d always been by him. Wherever you went, he followed. From your school days till now, it was clear his infatuation with you was more than just a silly crush.

It had been relieving for shoko when you finally confessed to him. Many years of shipping you together had payed off. Ever since, you’d both been lovesick for eachother. If shoko was being honest, sometimes she was jealous of the love you’d achieved.

If only suguru were there. He would be paying her a 1000¥ now. She pulled the white sheet above your head, refusing to look at your body any longer. It was saddening to say the least but shoko had practically become insensitive to seeing her close ones dead bodies in front of her. Or that’s what she would like to say.

Leaving the cold room, she returned to her office, digging for something in the cupboards. Ah. She pulled away after finding what she was liking for. A long sleek brown bottle anyone could realise harboured alcohol, you could practically see the contents spilling around through the brown transluecent material.

She took a long swig, feeling the burning liquid slide down her throat and settle in her empty stomach. Yes, shoko would like to believe she was insensitive to seeing the death of her loved ones but she would always down the bottle after.

Her eyes hooked on the picture on her desk from her jujutsu high days. Youth was evident and clear on all your faces. Sad that most of the ones in the picture were dead. Maybe it was by coincidence from the horrible settings that she realised that suguru had never been smiling.

His eyes were downcast, the loss of sleep clear in the slight dark circles beneath his eyes and in the mess of his once perfectly kept hair. How did she not realise then that her friend was struggling with something? How did you all not realise it? No, she was lying. You guys did, of course you noticed. But foolishly you just didn’t want to believe it. Believe that maybe your friend felt he wasn’t cut out for this life. It was clear in his reluctance to do anything.

Shoko took another swig of the bottle before setting it down on her oak desk, picking up the picture simultaneously. It was so clear now that he had been doomed from the beginning, suguru geto, the one who consumed curses.

It was no shock when he became one too. Shoko moved towards the window basking in the afternoon light for a few minutes, relishing the brightness of the sun that these days, never seems to come out.

She held the picture up one final time before she used the lighter and set the picture on flame. She watched as the faces of her friends were swallowed by the orange flame, consuming all she loved and leaving only ashes. She too soon blew those tensing ashes into the wind, watching as they flew on a phantom wind.

Turning back to her desk, she took a seat, finally allowing her limbs to rest from a long day. The ache was unbearable. She took another swig of the drink, relishing in the burning feeling. She would’ve liked to believe she was indifferent to seeing death but it would be a lie, one she repeated to herself over and over but she’d carry on drinking the alcohol either way.

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sunny-mercya · 10 months

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Jealousy

Roronoa Zoro x Male Reader

Fandom -> One Piece

Masterlist

Zoro wasn't one to get jealousy often nor easily. If someone approached you in a flirting manner, he didn't had a ounce of worry, giving it a short glance and resuming back to whatever he was doing. You could handle them, whoever was flirting with you—be it men or women—perfectly on your own, would push them off to get some distance, keep them at bay, if they got too annoying or use some petty threatening words to send them away. If none of this would do its work, Nami was still there to whack them with her Climate Tact, having her ways of getting them to move.

So no, Zoro wasn't the jealousy type, but seeing you so close with the Surgeon of Death, stirred something unpleasant inside him. You're a happy person from the start on, like Luffy, always smiling upon people when passing by them or as a simple greeting.

Though the pleasant happiness, which you constantly radiate off, the laughs you did whenever the damned Doctor said probably something remotely funny, was something Zoro had never experienced with you.

Zoro knew perfectly fine that he himself was a stoic men, never cracking jokes—besides bad flat ones of cutting someone in half, a thanks to Robin for rubbing her morbid humour onto him—being more a gruff grumpy men and preferring naps and sword maintenance over anything else.

But he never thought it was this bad. That his mere presence, company even, is boring you. Are you preferring Law over him now?

Zoro scoffed, crossing his arms and frowning, while he watched the two of you.

«I'm way better than that damned Doctor.»

Nami rolled her eyes, shaking her head. Honestly, men will always be men, no matter what. Why couldn't they, not counting Sanji, express their emotions? Why was it so hard to do for them? Those were questions, answers Nami never would get.

«Okay, Okay, I know you are. Why don't you just go to [Name] and swoop him away? Show him that you're still his men or something.» Suggest Nami, patting Zoro's head. For someone who openly says, he isn't jealousy in the slightest, Zoro's does know how to show it excellently though. Nami found it amusing, something she could use against Zoro again.

Nami watched how Zoro wordless marched towards you and Law. Put his hands on your hips and with one swift swing, throws you over his shoulder and marching away.

Nami facepalmed, groaning. Unbelievable. She didn't had meant it literally to do!

~~~

You hadn't utter a single word during the whole walk, wherever Zoro is even going. You aren't going to comment, that your men is lost again with his terrible sense of directions and orientation, Zoro knows it perfectly himself that he was lost. You watched the ground below and trying not to get a headache from it.

At some point, after deeming to be far enough—and far enough they are—from Law and the others, Zoro puts you down. It hadn't take minutes, when Zoro sats himself against a tree and pulls you into his lap.

Rather roughly he begun nib at your neck, biting into your skin and trying to leave marks. You squinted your eyes at him, brows furrowed as you tried to squirm out of his hold. This wasn't something Zoro normally does, sure during the sex Zoro liked to do it rough, but this was entirely something else.

«Zoro stop.» you said firmly, finally freeing yourself from his tight grip. Crawling a bit backwards, to put some space between you both, you looked at Zoro—who frowns at you.

A silence emitted between the two of you as you only starred at each other. Rubbing your face, massaging your temples, a upcoming headache you could feel.

«Are you preferring Law over me?» Zoro asked straight away, blunt as always. He wasn't going to beat around the bush, wanting clear answers from you. If you wanted to break with him, he liked to know it now.

«I– what?» your face crunched up in a form of confusion. What sort of question was that even? How and why does Zoro come up with such a thought?

«What do you even mean?» you needed some elaboration on that, because you knew how easily it was to create a misunderstanding, when the communication isn't proper.

Zoro heaved a extravagantly deep sigh out. You two had been separated for two years and even though your reunion had been filled with a passionate night, feelings could and would change over such a long time.

You two hadn't really the time anymore, to be with each other alone. To enjoy the simple moments of twosomeness. Constant fights is what keep you all busy and Luffy mostly taking your attention 24/7 per day.

I mean, Zoro gets it, really, he wasn't great to be around. He would get lost, arguing and fighting constantly with the damned Cook, couldn't bring you to laugh like the others could do and over all he is a stoic men, who likes swords more than human affection.

And yet, yet all he wants is you. Seeing you laugh at one of his bad jokes, makes Zoro happy. Just being near you was enough for Zoro.

«You liking Law more than me. He's a fun guy to be around, isn't he? A better fit for you, than me.» he grunted it out, almost in a sulky way.

«Are you jealous Zoro?»

«No. Just stating the obvious.»

You crawled towards Zoro, placing yourself onto his lap again, facing him. You cupped his face in your hands, giving him a sweet short kiss on the lips.

«Oh Zoro, there is no need to feel jealous over Law. I wouldn't trade you for any other men. I love you and only you.»

«Even when I'm not a fun person to be around?»

«But you are! It's hard to explain, but you make me laugh in your own way and honestly, you doesn't need to be a funny person, nor do you have to change. You are you and that is what counts for me.»

Zoro felt kinda dumb now. Silly even. You were right, he didn't had a reason to be jealous after all. Why was he getting so overworked worried, over something which never would happen in the first place?

All because Law had give him that smirk, while he had talke you. Zoro admits, Law knows how to push his buttons.

You gave him another kiss, leaning towards his ear.

«Now, since we're all alone right now, I wouldn't mind if we do some rough rounds, but if you wanna mark me, do it gently.»

~~~

Usopp wouldn't search for you and Zoro ever again. Even if it means getting a whack from Nami, he wouldn't.

Lucky he hadn't seen it, but the loud moans and grunts you two were making, was enough for Usopp to walk back as quick as possible.

#male reader #anime #x male reader #manga #one piece #roronoa zoro #zoro x male reader #oneshots #fluff #one piece x male reader

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are-you-still-writing-that · 6 months

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Yandere Alphabet: Baji Keisuke

He such a feral bastard. Honestly, love that for him. Here he is:

Baji Keisuke

Fucker is downright feral. Wild and free-spirited are some of the nicer things, that can be said about him. Most would say it a bit differently. He is extremely headstrong and sometimes he doesn´t make any sense to you. I honestly believe that you will need to him match him in every aspect because otherwise he will simply steam roll right over you.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

He is as intense as it gets. Always hanging onto you. He needs to be in physical contact with you and he can´t stand to see you leaving his hands. Though he is all for public displays of affection. Though as soon as he gets started it always feels a little inappropriate, cause he never slows down. He will leave hickeys all over you, and will place them purposefully over where the collar of your shirt will reach.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Baji would probably kill someone on accident. He would throw himself at the other and wouldn´t stop. His rage knows no bounds, even when he tries to keep it in check. In the end, it´s likely that he won´t even realize what he has done till it´s too late. Still he will gladly come back to you, and quite frankly for you? He would do it all again.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Not one to mock and neither to abduct. Another one of the guys, who suddenly moved in with you. Appears everywhere that you do and in general just clings to you. He isn´t someone, that would abduct you at all. Or if he did, he would very quickly let you go again, because he couldn´t even keep up with something like that.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

He clings to you. Following you wherever you need to go. He wants to spend time with you and he makes is very clear. But otherwise, he lets you hold the reins. You will know what is best for you, at least better than him. So, he lets you do as you please. He just wants to be with you every step of the way.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

This man opens his heart for you from the first moment he sees you. He wants you to know what is going on inside if him. But he also wants to understand you as well. He wants to know what is going on inside your mind at every moment. He adores to listen to you talk, too see you opening up to him, like he open up to you as well.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

He rather sees it more as an invitation to play-fight with them, than the genuine attempt to get away from him. Though with him, this warped perspective is definitely on purpose. He knows that wasn´t what you intended, but he hopes that with some humour he can convince you that this would be a terrible idea.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

If it´s established previously as a game, he will enjoy chasing you around. It´s a bit like playing tag, isn´t it? If you just suddenly try to get away from him with no explanation or anything of that kind, he will be mainly confused. He doesn´t understand what´s going on, and will be hurt, when he figures out what has been going on.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

The moment he pounces on someone else for the first time, and you try to get between that. In that moment he will accidentally hurt you. That moment, will be the worst experience with him. Because that will hurt, and he might not even notice what he has done till long after he calmed down again. The realization, that when he fights he looses track of his surroundings and can´t even recognize it when you approach him. How strong he is and how easy it would be for him to break you apart.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

It doesn´t come to mind for him to plan for the future. For him, what counts most is the moment. It´s the present. He wants to be with you in this very moment. He doesn´t want to think about tomorrow. Everything that counts happens right now. And right now he wants nothing more than to be with you.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Baji has a tendency to get jealous and whenever he does, he will show it as well. Stepping closer to you, kissing you, throwing his arm over your shoulder. All these are signs that he wants the other person to finally back off. Though, the other should really start watching out as soon as he starts to fidget. It´s the only warning, that he will jump the other in the next few moments.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

He tends to watch your every move. Careful eyes are always on you. Though, he will also lean on you. Making sure, that you know that he is close to you. A hand on your back or on your arm are common for him. He also tends to kiss you quite a lot, if you give him the chance to do it. It´s the easiest way for him to ensure, that everyone around him knows that you and him belong together.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Spending time with them is his to go method. He likes nothing more, than to spend time and talk with the people he loves, so why would it be any different, when he tries to get closer to someone? He will accompany you on some of the mundanest trips, but bring the highest energy and enthusiasm always with it. It´s almost endearing.

Mask: Are their true colours drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

A bit wild and feral. That is was everybody sees when they look at Baji. Even his mother described him as such for as long as he can remember. He takes pride in that description. He never tried to hide who he is from anyone. Never did, never will. They just have to accept him how he is. So he never appears any different around any person. Is core always stays the same.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

He will get violent when angry. But still he wouldn´t think of touching you in any shape or form. His voice will get louder, his movement will become more erratic but he won´t touch you. He might crowd you accidentally, he might throw some of things around, though it´s a mix between his own and yours belongings, cuz he genuinely can´t decipher it in the moment. He doesn´t try to hurt you, but he knows that he needs to vent this anger in some way.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

It´s not so much, that he takes away his darlings rights and more so, that he simply tends to be around a lot. Of course he wants to know, with whim they´re going out. Especially, if he isn´t going to be there. He will be overprotective, but he still understands, that your decisions are mainly your own. He can influence them with his opinion, but he still has to let you do what you want.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

In general, he isn´t a very patient man. If needed, he can wait for a bit, but only when he knows, that it will aid him in his goals 100%. Otherwise, he will either loose interest or try to speed things up quite a bit. With that in mind, he also tends to be impatient with his darling. He doesn´t wait to approach them and just throws himself with all his affections at you. Either they will get used to him or not. But he won´t just stand aside and wait for them to notice him.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

He is someone, that is always focused on the moment. Never someone, that plans very far ahead, but he does dwell on the past, and wants to atone for mistakes he made. So, he would mourn them. He would look back upon his actions and wonder, where he went wrong with you. He doesn´t understand, why you felt the sudden need to leave everything behind the two of you had going on. He is also pretty sure, that he will never understand it either. He won´t come up after you, but he will approach you, if your paths ever cross again.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

As previously mentioned, he isn´t one to abduct his darling in the first place, and if he ever did, he would feel guilty upon seeing their reaction. He doesn´t plan to do something like this, for that simple reason alone. He doesn´t think, that he could bear to watch your expression crumble upon seeing him. So, he would let them go rather quickly as well.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Baji had always been a wild and uncontrollable child. He has always been a bit on the possessive side of things, and his mother had always indulged him in it. He was allowed to love, how he wants to, even encouraged to. His passion was always very visible and nothing he ever hid, and either people loved him or hated him for it. He never saw the sense of dimming himself for the comfort of others, and so he will never do so either.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

He doesn´t like to see you in pain. In total he simply can´t stand it, when you aren´t happy and he will do everything to the best of his abilities to make you happy again. There is nothing he loves more, than to see you smiling, your laugh or the expression on your face when you are content. So, he will do what he can, to have you look at him again with love and happiness in your eyes.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

With him there is no mastermind at work. Very rarely will he think his plans through till the end. There is so much, that he could do for you instead, that would express the same thing as his words would. In general you will notice, that he is very intuitive with you.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Now there is something, that can be exploited, but he is also very aware of that weakness himself. First of all, he isn´t exactly the brightest one out there. All the while though, he is very tunes into the way you behave, so he will pick up any sudden changes. Second, he adores you. There is seems to be nothing, that he wouldn´t do for you. He is also very aware of that.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

He is not someone, that enjoys hurting the people, that he loves. While he is very much capable of hurting you, he would rather not do it. It pains him to even think about such a thing. He knows that he ban be abrasive and short-tempered, but he still takes care to control himself. If he realizes, that he won´t be able to, he will leave you by yourself. He never wants to become the cause of pain for you.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Baji adores his darling and while he does hold them in high regards, it never reaches something worshipful. He still sees them as a person, with all your flaws. He believes, that no matter what happens, he will always be able to see the real you. Never a mask and never to be put on a pedestal. Still, he likes you. Would go to the end of this earth for you. No matter what.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

He is someone, that believes in the idea of love at first sight. He sees you and his heart starts to race. That first moment, he is done for. He already adores every little thing that you do. He doesn´t immediately bowel you over, but he still approaches you as soon as he can. He doesn´t care if it seems awkward as well. For something like that, he doesn´t let himself fell any shame. And so he pines and every advance makes him bolder.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

He is definitely capable of breaking his darling to smithereens. Baji is not necessarily the most careful guy out there, while at the same time he is definitely highly emotionally intelligent. There are times when he holds you too tight and leaves bruises he never intended to leave. He is like that in most things. He can be too harsh, too cruel, too forceful. He knows this as well and so he will try. He will be attentive, but he knows himself, that it´s likely that he will miss something along the way.

#yandere #yandere baji #yandere alphabet #xreader #tokyo revengers #tokrev #baji keisuke #yandere headcanons #baji headcanons #baji x reader #yandere tokyo revengers #yandere tokrev

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