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tojipie · 6 months

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toji x crybaby reader <3

content: hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, smut under the cut !

˚ ✧ ───────────

toji is a flawed man.

short-tempered, married to his money, slow to show affection. but the one thing he does excel at is comforting you.

he knows you’re a sensitive girl, knows just how easy it is for you to get teary-eyed and red in the face over comments that otherwise seem like nothing to the untrained ear.

you have a kind heart is all, too giving to a world that only knows how to take. he tells you that every time you break down in his arms, thick hands rubbing circles into the small of your back.

his father would have slapped him across the face for crying. called him soft, whiney like a girl. put him to work for the rest of the day to shape him into a man.

he wasn’t his father though, and you weren’t a zenin.

you were soft in the best way, tender-hearted and too trusting. a daisy among weeds, swaying idly in the too-strong wind. nothing like a zenin, nothing like him.

he hadn’t the faintest clue what to do the first time he’d seen you get upset, standing there in the kitchen like a fool while you babbled on the phone with his bank.

it was a fraudulent charge, small, maybe only 10 dollars. probably dropped his card while paying for gas again, not the end of the world. the customer service rep assured you that much.

it was the principal, you sobbed. you’d lost his card and hadn’t even noticed. why wasn’t he upset with you?

he doesn’t know why he didn’t just tell you it was okay. that he didn’t have it in him to ever be cross with you, be it a ten-dollar charge or a thousand-dollar charge.

instead he wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling your body flush with his to press soft kisses to the crown of your head.

you were warm there, warm everywhere really. the thrum of your blood heating your skin from the inside out. toji liked that about you, how you offset the perpetual cold of his much larger hands.

physical touch was something he knew well. toji wasn’t—still isn’t good with words, opting to stay silent and just hold you while you sniffled into the receiver. he got the message across, he always does.

his methods are unorthodox for that very reason. he doesn’t comfort you with his tone, he does it with his body. whether it be thick arms squeezing you until you get your breathing under control, large hands tracing shapes into your tummy until you stop spluttering, or toned legs splaying wide to let you crawl into his lap, resting on him until your bodies reach the same temperature.

toji fucks you on your good days, likes to tease you, get you squirming. the key difference is that he makes sweet love to you on your bad ones. holding you flush to his chest while he rocks into you under the safety of your shared blankets.

you feel like a furnace under him every time, heat radiating off your body and into the deeper parts of his soul.

he gets mouthy once the feeling of you wrapped around him flicks that little switch in his brain. turning off the mental barrier between him and his inability to use his words.

“sweet girl,” is what he calls you, eyes never leaving yours.

“gotta stay close to me, gotta keep you safe, huh?”

and keep you safe he does, tucking your face into the curve of his neck so you don’t have to look anywhere but him. letting you moan, and pant, and sigh into his skin while he rocks against that special spot situated deep in your core.

he goes harder when you ask him to. not faster, but harder—he knows the difference, letting the resistance in his hips subside so he can sink to the hilt over and over.

the juxtaposition makes his head spin. how do you manage to sound so sweet while asking for something like that? able to melt his heart even on the brink of orgasm.

you kiss him when he fills you up, letting him sink on top of you with a huff and a shy laugh. he listens as you open up about the good parts of your day, his soft hums of agreement spurring you on.

toji wishes he was taught to articulate himself better. he’s trying, he really is. though the “i love you” he says into your skin seems like his best shot at a start.

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worldlxvlys · 2 months

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ANNA. GIRL. I HAVE THE BEST IDEA EVER.

ok, so I was just listening to one of the girls by the Weeknd and I need the filthiest, most pantie soaking, mouth watering, sheet gripping smut about chris based off that song. only if you want though LMAO. also probably really unpopular opinion but chris is most DEFINITELY the dominant one during sex. anyway love you pretty girl!!

one of the girls

fwb! chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: smuttttt, semi-public sex, roughhhh sex, choking, slapping, spitting, degradation, dumbification, p in v, cream pie, unprotected sex, squirting, fingering, overstimulation, humiliation, recording, cursing

a/n: have your holy water on standby y’all

lock me up and throw away the key

he knows how to get the best of me

chris and i’s friendship was anything but normal. to some, it may even be perceived as toxic.

but me? i loved it.

i trusted him enough to do whatever he wanted to me, no matter how extreme.

tell nobody i control you

i broke you just to own you

they can’t tell that i love you

‘cause you’re loyal, baby

he was possessive, but it was hot. we weren’t actually together, but by the way he acted when other guys approached me, you would think we were.

he didn’t want to see me with anyone other than him, and i felt the exact same.

nobody else made me feel the way he did, anyway.

nobody else understood how to test my limits without going overboard.

i love when you’re submissive

love it when i break skin

you feel pain without flinching

i allow him to do whatever he wants to, and in return he he gives me a perfect mix of pleasure and pain.

he constantly pushes me to my limits, it’s almost gratifying to know that i can handle more than i think.

though my masochistic ways can be alarming to some, chris understands. he never judges or questions the things that bring me pleasure.

all it takes is a simple, “i need a distraction” and he has me pushed up against the door, his hand wrapped around my neck.

his fingers wrap around my throat, constricting my airway enough to stop my breathing.

he waits until i look like i’m about to pass out to loosen his grip.

we don’t gotta be in love, no

i don’t gotta be the one, no

i just wanna be one of your girls tonight

it doesn’t matter who he fucked yesterday, or who he’s seeing tomorrow. all that matters is right now.

and right now, we’re at a party, where he has me bent over a chair on the host’s back porch.

“you forget who the fuck you belong to? letting him undress you with his eyes like that?” he struck my ass with the palm of his hand over and over, making me cry out.

“how do you think he’d feel knowing that i’m fucking you on his porch?” he asked as he thrusted into me roughly, pushing my hips into the wooden chair harshly with every movement.

i moaned uncontrollably, gripping onto the chair for dear life as he pounded into me.

deciding to play with him, i looked back at him and spoke, “bet he could fuck me better than you ever will”

we both knew it wasn’t true, but chris stopped his movements immediately, making me whine out.

“think we should go find him? let him watch me fuck your brains out?” he asked as he pulled me to stand up.

“no, chris! please, just-” he cut me off by smacking my ass.

suddenly, he spotted a camera that was aimed at a short table in the middle of the porch.

“hmm, looks like he keeps his home secure, baby. you think he gets alerts when there’s movement on his porch?” chris raised his eyebrows at me, pushing me to the table that the camera was aimed at.

“he’s gonna watch this back and see you get fucked like the dirty little cockwhore you are" he rasped into my ear as he placed me onto the low table on my hands and knees.

he held my arms behind my back as he began to fuck me from behind again.

a cool breeze filled the air, making my nipples hard and sending a shiver down my spine.

he gripped my jaw harshly, turning my face to look at him, “open” he spoke.

when i opened my mouth, he gathered his saliva in his mouth before spitting into mine.

i immediately swallowed, making him slap my cheek lightly.

“now look at the camera” he said as he gripped my jaw, angling it so i was looking straight into the camera.

he pushed my body down, holding my shoulder down as his cock continued to stretch out my tight walls.

“you better make a fucking mess all over this table, make sure he knows how good i made you feel” his mouth found its way to my neck, biting at the skin roughly.

“f-fuck, chris” i moaned as his fingers brushed my hard nipples, before squeezing them firmly.

he suddenly grabbed my throat with his hand, pulling me closer to him.

my eyes rolled into the back of my head at the feeling of his hand squeezing around my throat.

he circled my clit with his free hand, and my head fell back onto his shoulder in response.

“such a fucking slut, you love being fucked out here in the open, huh?”

“good, good, so fucking good, holy shit” all i could do was chant those words, not being able to concentrate on chris’s words.

“look at you, going dumb for my cock” he spoke as he continued to fuck his hips into mine.

i mumbled a string of incoherent curses in response, grabbing his bicep as i felt my orgasm approaching.

“you gonna cum?” he asked as he felt me clench around him.

“yes, yes, yes, yes” i chanted as my eyes rolled back and i released on his cock.

“fuck, gonna fill this pretty pussy up” he groaned before he did exactly that, shooting his seed deep inside of my walls.

he pulled out, quickly replacing his dick with two fingers.

“chris!” i moaned in surprise as he fucked his fingers into me.

“wanna see you squirt all over this fucking table” he growled into my ear.

his fingers moved so quickly inside of me, i could barely keep up.

i reached down to move his hand, but he wasn’t having it.

he pushed me forward, pressing my face into the table.

“it feel good? you like being fingered out here where anyone could see?” he asked as he added another finger.

“yes, yes, oh my god” i cried out as i felt another orgasm coming.

“yeah? then fucking take it” he said.

“chris! i’m cumming!” i yelled as my body shook violently on the table.

“oh my god” i yelled as my juices shot out of me.

“i know you have more, ma. give it to me”

he continued to move his fingers inside of me, watching as the liquid continued to pour out of me, making me scream.

“fuck” i breathed out when his fingers stopped , allowing me to catch my breath.

chris helped me off of the table, helping me to fix my dress so i was covered again before fixing himself up.

he left for a second, coming back with paper towels to clean up our mess.

“hey, you good to get home by yourself? i got something to do” he said, looking down at his phone.

more like someone to do.

“yeah, go. have fun”

with that, he kissed my cheek and left.

we don’t gotta be in love, no

i don’t gotta be the one, no

i just wanna be one of your girls tonight

💋💋💋💋

masterlist

tag list: @lustfulslxt @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @ciarasturn1 @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @readerakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @rootbeerworshiper @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn @sturniolololover @meg-sturniolo @mattsnymphette @leah-loves-lilies @vanteguccir @ineedchriscock @junnniiieee07

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sordidmusings · 7 months

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Age Gap (Buggy x Reader)

A/N: for @soft-mafia since she wanted more age gap Buggy! Mostly bulleted like a headcanon but has two little drabbles sprinkled in cuz I couldn't help myself. I will be posting a continuation of this actually writing out the scene mentioned at the end, but I wanted to get this out now.

Word count: ~2.6 k

Warnings: obviously an age gap but the younger one is mentioned to be in their 20s, fem!reader, NSFW mentioned at the end, alcohol consumption, probably (hopefully) silly humor, the touch starved shows hardcore for a second there, tried my best to get Buggy right but you know how it be especially because he exists as an amalgam of LA and anime Buggy in my brain

Now come get y'all dopamine

I imagine you joined Buggy’s crew largely looking for that found family goodness then found out how much you’d never been taken care of and how much you craved it

One day while going through the different acts you were learning from the crew trying to find what stuck, you took a decent fall. Not the kind that breaks bones, but the kind where you just gotta lay there a sec and recalibrate how you got to this point

After some laughter (I mean come on it is a crew curated by Buggy and they could tell it wasn’t serious), the nearby crew surrounded you to check on you. While you were breathlessly saying you’re fine from your position on the floor, they parted to reveal the Captain coming to your side:

Buggy bent down to loom over you. The shadow he cast over your face was a welcome break from the bright overhead lights. You just wished that the way they haloed him didn’t make it so hard to see the laughter on his face.

“Good form! I think we could just throw you around to see you flail like that as your act - you’d be our finest comedy routine.” His voice was thick with sarcasm and giggles. However, his detached arms were gentle when they lifted you from the floor. They changed to posing outstretched with his hands on your shoulders and he walked into them to reattach. He looked you up and down before circling around you, all the while his hands were nudging you this way and that for his inspection. Once he was back at your front, he changed to brushing some dirt from your arms and shoulders. You didn’t speak for fear of interrupting this attention you were receiving from him. He seemed to suddenly snap to clarity anyway.

“RIGHT.” Vocal control? Who is she? Buggy doesn’t know her. “So either get better at what you’re doing or actually fall on purpose. Wouldn’t want you fucking up that money maker.” He was already walking away when one detached hand gave your cheek two brisk pats and he made himself scarce.

It was obvious to you and everyone else how much you ate up his attention. The soft look you were still giving the direction he went in was damn near sickening. It was then you understood your purpose here - becoming Buggy’s spoiled lapdog.

Luckily for you, that was also the moment Buggy realized how his body buzzed when he touched you and how he lit up when you looked up at him with pretty, wide eyes.

Unluckily, he also decided that being near you would lead down a dangerous route of him needing more and more of you and he was positive that he was just being some old creep over a pretty little thing like you.

This led to a game where Buggy would try to keep you at arm’s length while he battled both his own desire to be around you and your seemingly supernatural ability to just appear next to him at all times.

He wasn’t great at the arms distance thing even when he thought he was nailing it because nailing it to him was being in his natural space as the center of attention and only checking (immediately and desperately) that you were watching and approving of whatever he was doing. The way his head would always snap to you for your reaction was neither subtle nor discouraging to your rapidly growing infatuation.

You decided that orbiting his personal space wasn’t working well enough. Sure, he’d give you a hit of what you wanted with some fleeting touches and mostly disguised compliments but you needed more. Hurting yourself intentionally so that he would take care of you didn’t seem like a sustainable option, so you settled on playing his own game. Time to practice owning a room.

This could be a dangerous game to play. You were certain that blatantly taking the spotlight would just make him upset with you not that you’d mind him taking that out on you. You settled on more subtle things like spreading your attention more through the crew instead of mostly on him, being more focused and daring in your training, participating more in the many games that broke out when the alcohol did, and dressing a bit more intentionally (whether that’s flashier colors, eye-catching accessories, bold makeup, new or intricate hairstyles, etc.)

The boldest card you played was feeding more into any of the flirting you received.

He has a freak show, yes, but have you ever seen how fine circus performers are?? Full fun costumes are It and also the tasks they have to perform either help them get conventionally attractive bodies and/or the rizz that comes with performing feats (just look at the traction Fryboy has gained with women like damn why he kinda-). Due to that, you’re around attractive people all the time.

While the flirting is for the purpose of pushing Buggy’s buttons, you must admit that it wasn’t a hard habit to keep up and may help inflate your ego.

Your attempts have mixed results. Buggy’s desire to claim you grew but so did his insecurity

In his mind, you look more natural next to one of the younger lookers in his crew while he’s certain the pair of you must look ridiculous together. It’s this very insecurity that’s gonna make it necessary for you to bluntly and shamelessly throw yourself at him both repeatedly and with no room for questions:

You have no clue what else you can do to get through that thick skull of his. You’re on your knees, quite literally at that. You figured that kneeling in front of that circus throne while he’s laid himself all over it would be enough to break the man. Enough to break any man, really, but he’s still finding ways to deflect you.

Buggy nodded his head to a nearby open seat. “You know they made chairs to be comfortable and your dumb ass is on the floor. That drunk already?” he snorted. Maybe choosing to do this during one of the many celebrations (you think this one is for one week of no one pregaming for show runs. ironic.) was a bad idea. You had been banking on some drinks loosening up whatever was holding him back. It always made you snicker when you entertained the idea of it being from a sense of propriety. Checking in on the situation, you could see how all the chaos going on around you two made it easier for him to keep his eyes off of you and his ears unfocused. Earlier, you had counted it as a plus that working up a buzz would help you bulldoze through his stubbornness. You had forgotten that any alcohol in your system would make for the perfect excuse for him to write you off.

“I’ve barely started my third drink,” you started with a pout, “and I’d be ashamed if that’s enough to get me drunk after all the time spent on your crew.”

“Then you are just being stupid.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes. Okay. Attention didn’t work. Compliments didn’t work. Kneeling didn’t work. Time for some big guns.

You shifted to the side so you’d be sitting towards your left hip with your bent legs beside you. Your drink found its way to your right hand but, most importantly, your chin found its way onto Buggy’s left knee. It brought you so close to where you’d really like to put yourself to work, and, man, was the temptation strong with the way his right leg was slung over the armrest of his seat. How did he expect you to stay away when he was serving himself up on a platter like this?

Buggy was definitely giving you his undivided attention now. His gaze was dark and slightly accusatory. The lighting matched with his makeup made him look more dangerous than usual. The nerves it sent through you might have had you back right off. Instead you held your ground because you saw his pulse hammer against his neck. You saw his throat bob as he swallowed. You saw his pink tongue contrast with red as he licked his lips and gave a shaky exhale.

While you were starting to settle into your bold move, Buggy was becoming more and more antsy. His grip on his glass became white-knuckled under his gloves, and he tried to give himself time to think by taking a huge gulp of his drink. Why did you have to look at him like that? So pleading? The angle from his lap made your lashes darken your eyes and it was impossible for him to keep the image of your hooded gaze about a foot closer to him out of his head. What did you want from him? You’d denied his accusations about money or intel so what the fuck could it be? Was this a game? Get in the pants of the Captain for preferential treatment and go back to whoever else you had in your palm on the crew to laugh about him falling for it?

You noticed his mood turning sour so you decided to interrupt whatever was tumbling around his head. “I think I could get much more comfy right here.” To prove a point, you dragged your chin to his inner thigh, right above his knee, and snuggled your cheek into his leg. His pants weren’t the softest against your skin but he was so addictingly warm through them. Your eyes briefly fluttered shut to enjoy the sensation before you looked back up at him and flirtatiously said, “I’m comfiest next to you.”

His hands itched with the need to grab you by the hair and force your face right where he needed you. Instead he scoffed at you. “Suuuuure. And why’s that, princess?”

“You make me smile,” you admitted immediately. His startled gaze met your lovesick one and you realized what you said and how quickly you said it. Too close to emotionally vulnerable; time to backtrack a touch. You want to get the role as his trophy before you even attempt to approach the title of Love of His Life. “You also said that you take care of your crew and I’m on your crew, right? So you’ll take care of me.”

The cheeky smile you spoke through melted him. An achingly deep sigh left him while his right hand detached from the arm to deposit his drink on the floor next to you. Quickly, it flew back to its limb. Both of your hearts pumped fire through your chests as he reached that hand out towards you. Buggy took his time stroking his fingers from your forehead into your hair. When his palm came down to join the gesture, you were very happy to realize that his hand was just as warm as the thigh still under your cheek. You shuffled closer so your legs squeezed in between his foot and the left leg of his throne. Buggy shuddered when he felt your fingertips graze the back of his calf and spread out like a star so you could grab it. Using your new grip, you snuggled more firmly into his leg and let yourself buzz off of getting this new touch from your Captain.

Ulterior motives be damned, Buggy couldn’t give them any credence when you looked so happy to sit at his feet and receive such a simple touch. He should probably laugh and call you a needy puppy to regain some control over the situation. Instead, he slipped his hand down the side of your head. He massaged his fingertips into the base of your skull and said, “I’ll take care of you, little star.”

Once he has accepted that you’re serious there will be jokes about the dynamic but do not be fooled - he can only dish it out and WILL spiral if he receives any type of comment about how much older he is (the word geriatric is punishable by death)

Sometimes the joke is him patronizingly treating you like a child (you almost socked him right there at the dinner table when some food came at your face with accompanying airplane noises)

Sometimes it’s calling you a gold digger (“then where’s my allowance, huh?” “OH so my gIFTS AREN’T ENOUGH FOR YOU NOW? YOU were the one ACTUALLY CRYING over me buying you that wonky ass stuffed seal with the lopsided face!!” “HIS NAME IS JERRY AND YOU WILL SHOW HIM SOME RESPECT”)

Sometimes it’s just dumb shit like pointing at the type of girl’s clothing store that has made a contract with God to own all the pinks and pastels the world has to offer before turning to you straight faced and asking if you want to stop in to look. Any way this man can think to goof, he will.

And it’s tooooootally a coping mechanism to process the fact that he’s nearly forty and dating a twenty-something and not at all because joking around with you has become one of his basic survival needs

The dynamic ends up helping both of y’all feel special - you have a hot, boisterous, spotlight-stealing pirate captain pampering (and then making a mess of) you while he gets a beautiful, capable, eye-catching young thing looking at him like he hung the stars in the sky

Nothing goes to Buggy’s head more than when you walk into a room full of people, attractive ones especially, and only see him.

He loves anything that makes it obvious to others that you are his, whether that's him draped over you, you draped over him, red stains on the back of your hands, your shoulders, your cheeks, your forehead, your neck, having his jolly roger on your outfit, having you in his hat or coat

This very much extends to him wanting anyone and everyone to overhear you in the bedroom. Everyone should know you're his and he's the only one who can make you feel so good

Don't worry, they'll also get the message that he's yours from all the moaning and praises

He gives you endless pet names but always comes back to “sweet stuff”, “sweets”, “princess”, “star”, “prima donna” (affectionate), “prima donna” (derogatory), and anything preceded by “little” (“little showstopper”, “little tease”, very rarely “little girl” if he feels especially like exerting power over you)

He prides himself on making you feel cared for and safe. Instead of feeling like a chore he has to do because he’s in the ‘older man’ role, he loves the way you preen under his attention and how you happily return the favor.

When in the Cross Guild Era, Buggy started going to all meetings with you by his side then on his thigh. It was a good defensive strategy because the other two seemed more hesitant to throttle him if you were in the way, but lets be real this man is also clingy and loves showing you off too.

At first he found it offensive that Mihawk and Croc were so disbelieving at the sight of you happily perched on your captain’s lap but then it made him the smuggest motherfucker when he would see their eyes trail over you knowing that they can only look and he can touch however he wants. This leads to him pushing until he hit your boundary at leaving very visible marks on you

One time he fucked you stupid right before a meeting so that you wouldn’t think about the bite mark surrounded by red makeup that kept playing peekaboo with your shirt collar (or the red smears between your thighs that showed whenever you shifted your legs)

#buggy x reader #buggy the clown #one piece #one piece x reader #buggy one piece #opla buggy #buggy x you #buggy x y/n #my writing #fem reader #afab reader #x reader

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fuctacles · 17 days

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Under pressure

For @subeddieweek Day 1 | M | 1177 | accidental subspace, non-verbal communication, sleepover, Steve-instinctive-Dom-Harrington | Ao3

Eddie avoided fights because he was a coward. A pussy, even, he'll admit. But there was a whole other reason for him avoiding sports.

He wasn't a big fan of physical contact.

But since he's become better friends with Steve Harrington, he's been discovering things about himself. Things he wished would have stayed hidden. Forever.

The first time, it was a tussle for the remote. Eddie refused to watch another episode of whatever the fuck capitalist media was trying to spoon-feed them, while Steve was adamant there was a plot that he was invested in. One elbow to the gut and some pulled hair later, he landed underneath the guy, his weight pinning him to the ground.

Melting his bones.

Soothing.

"You okay?"

Steve sounded concerned about Eddie's sudden silence, and his mind scrambled to salvage his dignity. All he could manage was a groan, which Steve thankfully interpreted as a sign of pain and not the sudden weakness that it was.

He instantly hopped off of him, apologizing.

Eddie has been avoiding and yearning for the touch ever since.

He had never considered Steve like that, but apparently being sat on was the biggest turn-on for his poor little dick, and now it was all he could think of at night.

His doom comes when he has to sleep over after a night of drinking. Steve insisted they share a bed, that it was alright, and Eddie foolishly believed him.

It is fine until Steve rolls over to put away his glasses.

"Shit, sorry. I just gotta..."

They didn't think this through, because Eddie was the one next to the bedside table, the one Steve was trying to reach. He almost crawls over Eddie to accomplish it, his weight heavy on top of him, pressing him to the mattress and making his mind go blank.

He bites his lip so hard he probably draws blood, but it doesn't stop the whimper Steve's body literally pushed out of him. Steve freezes.

"Are you alright?" He drops the glasses and shoots up. "Did I hurt you?"

Eddie can't answer. His brain is screaming at his mouth, but he can't manage a single word, all he can think of is Steve's body back on him, that weight pressing him down, immobilizing him. He could probably reach pure bliss with just that.

When he doesn't get an answer, Steve pulls on his shoulder to flip him on his back. Eddie whines in protest but doesn't have enough control over his muscles to stop him. His shame gets put on display and Steve's eyes widen.

"Eddie?"

His pupils are huge as he blinks owlishly up at his friend.

"You okay?"

Eddie nods.

"Do you need anything?"

You. On me, against me, in me.

He shakes his head slowly, not breaking eye contact. This seems to frustrate Steve.

"Eddie, come on," he groans. "Clearly something's wrong. Do you need water? I can bring you some." He moves to stand up, but Eddie's in the way. He has to throw his leg over him, and Eddie presses his eyes closed, begging his body not to react.

It's enough to alert Steve, though, and he freezes hovering above him, mid-movement.

"Huh."

It's a soft sound, barely there, and Eddie decides to keep his eyes closed. Maybe if he does, whatever realization Steve has gets forgotten, and he moves on, brings him the damn water, and maybe throws it on him like on a horny dog. Maybe that would help him.

But no, the ‘huh’ is followed by Steve settling down on his hips.

Oxygen escapes him in a whiny breath, and his body presses up without his control, seeking that delicious weight of another body.

"Want to make out about it?" Steve asks out of the blue like any normal person would in these circumstances. But Eddie doesn't answer him, he can't, and he doesn't know. He can only stare and writhe under him, making tiny sounds of need he can't comprehend. Steve frowns down on him, partially concerned, partially curious.

"Don't feel like talking?" he asks. Eddie gives him a nod. He hums. "Can you answer some yes or no questions? Nod for a yes and shake your head for no."

Nod.

"You can blink twice if you don't know or don't want to answer. Okay?"

Nod.

"What do you do if you don't want to answer?"

Eddie blinks twice.

"Good. Great." Steve smiles, and Eddie mirrors it through his haze. "Are you feeling alright?"

Nod.

"Do you need water?"

Shake.

"Do you need the bathroom?"

Shake.

"A snack?"

Shake.

Steve considers him, perched on top of his body. Eddie tentatively reaches up, palms resting on his thighs. Steve's gaze follows his fingers, where they just rest with no ill intent, only there to touch.

"Will we talk about it more in the morning?"

Eddie hesitates. Does he want to talk about it? To bring his shame to the light of day, confess the budding crush on his friend? But Steve doesn't seem angry, he's not kicking him out of the bed. He's being soft and gentle and trying to understand. Maybe in the morning, they could understand it together. Tentatively, he nods.

That eases Steve's frown a bit, but he sighs when another problem hits him.

"I don't know what else to ask," he admits with a huff.

Eddie wants to help, so he slides his hands up, towards his hips, and tries to convey as best as possible where he wants him. He stares into his eyes, begging him to understand.

"Want me to lay down on you?"

He nods furiously, excited to get what he needs.

Steve looks down. It's a minuscule movement of his eyes, but it's there. He will know if Eddie's hard when he moves, but he needs the heads-up. The bulge in Eddie's sweats is noticeable but not fully there, to Steve's relief. Having his friend under him in such a pliant state is already overwhelming as it is, and he knows Eddie will feel his own chub when he moves.

"We're just sleeping tonight, alright?" Steve clarifies and Eddie nods without hesitation. "And cuddle a bit, I guess." Eddie nods again.

He moves, watching his friend’s face for any sign of distress. Eddie’s hands slide around him in an embrace that's more comforting than Steve's ready to admit, and soon they're chest to chest, legs tangled, and he has to crane his neck to maintain eye contact.

"That alright?"

Nod.

Eddie's hands squeeze him minutely and Steve settles down against his shoulder, finally resting his full body weight against him.

The man underneath him sighs, and it's like his whole body deflates. He makes a content sound in the back of his throat, and Steve wants to cry. It's so endearing and so comforting to have Eddie trust him like that. To have him turn into mush in his presence.

He hopes he's not overstepping when he presses his nose to Eddie's neck, inhaling him and softly caressing his skin when he murmurs a "goodnight, Eds."

#sub eddie week #sub eddie munson #steddie #mine #cj x subeddieweek #steddie fanfiction #steddie fic #steddie oneshot #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #ff #st #stranger things 4 #steddie one shot #subeddieweek

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a-hazbin-reader · 3 months

Note

how about a reader who's been feeling pretty overworked recently?and just needs to rest but is to stubborn to Al does something about it?

Now it's Alastor's turn to pamper~

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: None I think??

Description: ☝️⬆️

You've been going nonstop all week and it's been taking it's toll on you physically and mentally

There's so much that needs done and you're only one person, you don't have time to sit and relax

Which means you're unintentionally taking time with you away from Alastor

Not his ears drooping and folding back when he realizes you're going to turn him down

"I'm so sorry, Alastor, I'm just too tired to go out and I really need to finish this."

"Y/N, it's our date night and I insist that you-"

"I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you later, I promise."

But you pass out and Alastor has to carry you to bed, hating that you're so overworked right now, that you have no time to spare for him

Which in his deer brain, means that you're neglecting him because you're so fried from work

And that means he's gotta fix this

But you're stubbon and won't relax willingly so he's got to get creative

"Darling, won't you take this bubble bath with me? I need help getting my back~"

🥵🥵 s-sure

He takes special care to massage and scrub every part of you until you're a gooey mess in his hands

Despite his claws, he can be surprisingly gentle, it's rather soothing to feel them ghosting over your skin

It's not until later when your back is against his chest and he's kissing your shoulder that you realize he's been spoiling you the entire time

Literally carries you to bed bridal style and dries your body with a loving reverence that makes you blush

"Alastor, I can do this myself-"

"Hush now, let me do this for you..."

Rubs fancy lotions and creams into your skin, massaging until you inevitably fall asleep under his care

Nobody is allowed to wake you or bother you at all for the time being, he'll make sure of it

He finds excuses to interrupt you during your work, forcing you to take breaks

"Darling, I accidentally made too much jambalaya! So I thought I might bring you some as I am quite sure you haven't eaten today~"

"Alastor, I don't have time to-that smells really good..."

It's so good you could cry, devouring the entire thing while he stays and has lunch with you, turning it into a mini date

You didn't even realize how tense were before Alastor showed up, feeling full and relaxed after he gives you a parting kiss

You really don't want him to go, watching him leave with a longing expression

Not him purposefully stealing something you need so that you have no choice but to seek him out

"Have you seen my folder? I can't get back to work without it!"

"Hm? I can't say that I have, but have you seen what a beautiful day it is outside? Why not just skip work today, and we'll take a stroll through Cannibal Town?"

Won't take no for an answer, already looping his arm with yours and marching you outside

It is actually a beautiful day outside

Takes you to all your old haunts and spends all day buying anything you even look at

It feels good to catch up with Rosie and some of your old friends, not having realized how long it's been since you've seen them

He also takes you out dancing, which leaves you tired and sore, but in the best way possible, he was always exciting to dance with

Will carry you home if he has to, will actually find an excuse to do so

"Do your feet hurt? Here, let me carry you~"

You pass out before he puts the blanket over you, soothed by his scent on your pillow

It's not until later when you wake up to him putting your folder back in your bag that you realize what he's been up to

"Alastor..?"

Oh fuck he's been caught

"Darling! I was just-cleaning off your bag and-"

"...just shut up and come back to bed..."

Literally climbs right on top of you and flops on you like he's your own personal weighted blanket

Kissing your neck and shoulders before whispering into your ear with a slightly guilty voice

"Are you angry with me?"

"Mm...not if you keep giving me attention like this..."

Well, he wouldn't want his darling Y/N to start getting angry with him now, would he?

The next day you feel more renewed and refreshed than you have in weeks, waking up tangled in Alastor's arms

You chuckle softly and push some of his hair out of his (totally not pretending) sleeping face, admiring his handsome features

He's a sneaky man who tricks you into relaxing and taking time for yourself because he loves you

And you love him all the more for it

This one was too cute! I hope you like it

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin x reader

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diaryofanidiot · 9 months

Text

The Experiments

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Chapter list: Prologue, 1, <2> ,3 ,4 ,5

Cw: Swearing; torture; blood; medical experiments; panic attacks; malnourishment

Summary: For over a year, Y/N was held in a soviet experimentation facility. Forced to fight and claw her way to live, she managed to stay alive. When the 141 rescues her, they get way more intel than bargained for.

Chapter Two

The blades of the evac chopper beat against my ears painfully as I was escorted into it. A headset was placed over my ears to muffle the sound as I looked up to see Soap faintly smiling down at me.

It wasn't connected to the other's comm sets so once they spoke during take off, I couldn't hear a thing. All I could do was wonder if I really trusted these people. I glanced to Ghost as I did, a faint sense of faith settling in my gut. Him rescuing me from that hellhole was enough for that primal connection to click in my brain.

Yes. If I could trust him, I could trust them. They all seemed close anyway. Hard won battles sealing their connection to each other.

The next few hours were agonizing as the chopper landed, and I was brought on to the compound. From ID photos to a full body scan for any tracking devices on my person; it seemed they weren't taking any risks with me.

Gaz and Soap would often give me a sympathetic glance as I was pushed around to each check-in task in a wheel chair as I was still too weak to walk fully.

"We're gonna have you looked at in the med bay, then we will need you to recount some info for us. That alright with you?" Asked Gaz. I nodded, appreciative that he made it seem like I even had a choice.

I sighed heavily, ready for it all to be over. The adrenaline had worn off just enough to make me realize how sleep deprived I really was.

Machines beeped, and faint chatter could be heard throughout the medical building of the compound. I underestimated how stressful the environment would be. My fingernails dug into the arms of the wheelchair as Gaz steered it.

Soap was beside me, Price and Ghost having left to recount the mission and write a report of some sorts, he seemed to notice my fear.

"None's gonna hurt ya, Lass." He assured me as I was wheeled over to a hospital cot. Him and Gaz lifted me onto it as I looked around wide eyed.

"No.." I coughed out, my voice raspy and once again dry. "No.. Doctors..." I strained, trying to move. They both held me in place, Gaz giving me a stern look.

"They're just going to look over your injuries. We will be right here the entire time." He tried to assure me.

I shook my head rapidly. Ghost... I wanted Ghost here. I didn't have time to wonder why my thoughts went to him, I just needed to get free. I struggled against their hold as a woman in a clean white coat pulled back the curtain around my cot.

My breathing grew heavy and the room seemed to spin. My nails dug small crescents into my palms as I tried frantically to break free. I heard voices and felt a hand on my back but the sounds felt like they were underwater.

I saw a white lab coat flash in front of my vision and I bared my fangs, my lips trembling fearfully.

Danger?

Gotta run...

Can't run.

Fight?

No... yes. Fuck

Fuckfuckfuck

I felt a sharp prick in my neck and turned my head rapidly, biting towards the hand near my face. I heard someone hiss in pain as my teeth broke flesh.

My hair was grabbed, along with my jaw, until I released my hold. My vision blurred and muscles twitched as I struggled.

It all went dark after that.

My dreams melted with reality as I woke and tried to shift in bed. A frown appeared on my lips as I realized I couldn't move my limbs. Fuck.

My eyes flew open as I tried to sit up, the restraints clanging against the metal bars of the cot.

"Easy." My attention flew toward the source of the voice to see none other than Ghost sitting beside me.

I gave him a quizzical "what the fuck" look and his eyes focused on mine sternly through the mask.

"You had a panic attack. Flew off the handle. Hence, the restraints." He sat back in the chair, never once taking his eyes away from me. "Those fangs of yours can really do some damage. Gaz won't be able to throw a good punch with that hand for bout a week."

I swallowed thickly, realizing what I did as he spoke. A faint leftover metallic taste of blood lingered in my mouth. I looked down with guilt.

"Nobody blames you." He huffed. "Hell, not even Gaz. Traumas a bitch."

He paused before continuing. "They had to sedate and restrain you for your safety. Once you're cleared, they can be removed."

I thew my head back with a sigh. I couldn't lie. It genuinely sucked to be moved from one set of restraints to another.

"Look at me."

I turned my head.

"I'm gonna bring the doctor back in here. She's friendlier than I am, promise. Think you can manage?"

I bit my lip in contemplation, my fangs drawing a small dab of blood from my lip as I did.

"Don't worry. I'm staying here."

I took a deep breath and nodded before Ghost peered out the curtain. "She's ready." I heard him say.

There was some shuffling before the doctor walked in. Her eyes showed no fear as if she were used to similar reactions like mine.

"My name is Harriet." She began, holding a clipboard to her chest. "I'm the doctor that's been assigned to you. We did a small checkup while you were sedated, I hope that's okay."

I nodded slowly, trying to keep my breaths steady.

"The Lieutenant informed me on where you came from, so I understand your anxiety around me. You've been put on an IV for the time being to replenish your nutrients until we can be sure you can handle an actual meal."

It was then I noticed the needle in my arm. I frowned at it, but the sight didn't bother me as much as this place. Ghost seemed to be keeping an eye on me, likely to ensure any more freak outs didn't ensue.

"I need to take a look at your throat real quick, do you mind?" She approached me calmly. I flinched but eventually agreed, opening my mouth in response. I watched as she shined a light down my throat, a compressor holding down my tongue.

She scribbled something on her clipboard. "I've been informed on your... alterations. Do you have any other abilities we need to be aware of?"

I thought for a moment and nodded my head slowly, holding up a single finger. She pursed her lips and grabbed a pen and paper.

"You can write, I assume?" She made a motion toward Ghist who unlocked my right arm, leaving the rest of the restraints on.

"Easy, girl. Behave." He said. It seemed like a slight hint of a joke. I took the pen and wrote sloppily on the paper.

Echolocation.

Her eyes widened slightly as she read. "I'm assuming this relates to your altered vocal chords?"

I nodded, averting my gaze to the white flooring.

"Well." She clicked her tongue, putting the clipboard back to her chest. "The good news is that with time, your ability to speak should clear up. It's mostly from dehydration and lack of use; the former being taken care of via IV. You have several infected cuts and a slight fever, along with those infected raw spots on your neck, but those will heal up just fine as well."

I took a breath of relief.

"With enough physical therapy, you should be able to walk just fine. Now the bad news.... we can't reverse the changes made to your vocal chords. If you like, the fangs can be dulled by a dentist, but that one is entirely your choice as neither alterations threaten your livelihood."

As I frowned in thought, Ghost stopped me. "You can decide that later."

I looked back to the doctor who gave me a small sympathetic smile. "One last thing, then I'll let you get some more rest. Do you remember your name? It isn't on the file that was brought with you."

I watched as I was given the pen once more. I closed my eyes and dug through my memory, searching for any remnants of who I was over a year prior.

A woman's voice echoed through my head. No, not a woman. A mother. My mother. She called out to me in agony.

My breath quickened as the memory played like hazy snapshots. Her hand grasping at my shirt. Being dragged away. Her hold on me failing. A gun to her head.

Everything was blurry. Everything was muffled.

Except...

I took the pen and wrote a name on the paper. The same name that echoed through my mind over and over.

A scalding tear fell down my cheek as the doctor nodded.

"It's nice to meet you, (y/n)."

A/n: sorry bout the tendons in your hand, Gaz. 🫡 had to be done.

I'm sorry this one is so short but I was fairly busy today. I'll make it up with the next one, promise ^-^

Taglist: @warenai @linoskitten11 @jamesrifftapes @justmare @hk-4ever @thriving-n-jiving @katelouis98 @tayaisback @josieguts @btszn @lemmyyy0606 @msecho19 @cory-viv @cybercl0ne @randomhumans-blog @vinithechocolatevampire @embermdk @itsryuken @neothewitch @undercover-smutlover

#cod mwii #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish

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morwap · 11 months

Text

𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐀 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍, 𝐀 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐍.

regulus black x fem!reader x evan rosier

smut

nav • r.a.b m.list • e.r m.list • poly!revan

sub!regulus, dom!evan, switch!reader, threesome, evan and reg are in the same year as the marauders, praise and degrading, oral m! & f!receiving, p in v, unprotected sex,

───────✧ 𓆩♡𓆪 ✧───────

evan rosier and regulus black.

the two names that have seemed to never leave your brain since the beginning of 8th year. two people you were never supposed to get involved with nor did you think youd ever even talk to without it being harsh words or hex’s but here you were having feelings for and relations with them.

evans dirty blonde curls and regulus’ grey eyes never seemed to leave your mind just like your frame and scent never left theirs, but at least they could express their feelings and needs with each other and you were stuck with inner monologues and your hand to satisfy yourself til the right time came.

one thing you all had in common was your friends hating the other person. evan had gotten more irritable and his patience was wearing thin when Mulciber or barty talked about you and regulus had to stop evan from lashing out at them and starting something that would be hell to finish, it was almost the same with your friends, james’ passive aggressive comments about regulus made you want to put him in his place but you refrained and remus and peter’s comments on evan made your blood boil as they talked shit about something they actually had no idea about.

sirius was a big factor, you knew hed be hurt if he found out you were fucking his brother and his brothers best friend behind his back but you never meant to get tangled up in regulus’ and evans web. the more you thought about it a lot of your friends would be disappointed so maybe that should’ve told you to cut it off after the first time but it was like a drug, the more you tried to stay away the more your want and need for it grew and eventually you gave in.

your bracelet vibrated once more, it was a gift from both of them to help make communicating better.

the three of you finally met up in the prefect bathroom durning dinner one night, regulus happily told you that him and evan were staying an extra day before going home for the break and that you should try so you all could spend time together before leaving.

and now here you were, almost everyone was gone for winter break and you were one of the few gryffindors left but there was just one problem, remus, remus fucking lupin had also decided to stay an extra day because he had been helping ms pince in the library. knowing remus he had the map, and would defiantly check it he if thought you were acting weird.

watching remus from your seat next to the fire, waiting for him to say he was gonna nap or walk around or go to the library, hoping and praying that he would say something like that so you could leave and get to evan and regulus’ dorm as fast as you could. your bracelet buzzed against your skin once more, you already knew which one was trying to give you the green light as to come to them.

normally it was evan, who only buzzed it once and then a second time if you were really really late; but today it was regulus, the constant buzzing at random times indicated that. you’d tease him about it since it seemed as if he couldn’t wait, you could imagine him mumbling the spell on the bracelet they had and waiting for you to show up at the speed of light and then doing it over and over when you were taking your time to get there.

jumping a little when remus coughed and got up and stretched. “i gotta go to the library, wanna meet up and walk to dinner together later?” remus asked, grabbing his wand and book then fixing his shirt while waiting for you to answer.

you nodded, “yeah ill come up to the library so you dont have to walk all the way over to get me” you said and smiled at him. remus nodded and left the common room.

muttering the spell towards the bracelet to let them know you were on your way. waiting a bit so you knew remus was far away before leaving the common room.

the bracelet buzzing again, making you smile and think about how to tease regulus about it in a bit. turning the corner as you kept looking around for any other people but luckily there was no one around.

evan was waiting for you beside slytherin common room, you watched him play with his sleeve before he looked up and saw you.

crossing his arms with a smile on his face as you got closer then reaching out and pulling you to him.

lips already going at each other and hands roaming and gripping at clothing and skin, hungry and needy for each other from being away for so long. the amount of glances and fantasizing while looking at the other person was gone and replaced with what you both desired, the real fucking thing.

pulling away to catch your breath, hands rubbing against his chest as your back was now up against the cold stone.

“you have no idea how much we missed you” evan whispered, his lips coming back to yours for a quick kiss before pulling away and resting his forehead against yours.

“i think i know by how many times hes buzzed me” you quipped, and evan instantly laughed and shook his head.

“i told him to quit, that you’d be here when you’d get here but hes basically cumming in his pants at anything that has to do with you” evan said, the happy tone in his voice made your heart flutter. you giggled and mumbled the spell to the bracelet, sending two buzzes to let him know you were and it buzzed back almost instantly which made you and evan bust out laughing.

“well, lets not leave him waiting” you laughed and took evans hand, pulling him towards the common room door. evan said the password and looked around to see if the common room had anyone in it, luckily no one was in there.

evan guided you to their dorm, all their dorm mates were gone leaving it the perfect spot.

regulus’ leg bounced up and down, he was excited to see you and get off since evan had been denying him since the night they found out they were staying too, no matter how hard regulus begged for evan to touch him or if he wanted to touch himself the answer was “no, you’ll thank me later” and regulus knew he probably would.

evan snuck you into the room, making sure no one would see you in case they just showed up out of nowhere. regulus jumped up when he heard the door click open. a smile coming onto his face almost instantly.

seeing them used to be awkward but now it was just like hanging out with your friends but so much more intimate, you wished you could be around them all the time which is crazy now since almost a year ago you didn’t like them and they did not like you.

the transition from seeing you again to already getting intimate was smooth and quick, it didn't feel forced like you were just there to have sex with them and then leave, it was loving and like you all had come home from a date together.

you sat on the side of evans bed, regulus was on his knees taking your pajama bottoms off, you could see his hard on in his pants.

“reggie you’re already hard, we’ve barely even started” you teased, regulus whined a bit at you pointing it out, he was aching, had been since he knew today was the day you were coming.

“told you he was practically cumming in his pants” evan quipped as he unbuttoned his shirt.

“I wouldn't be if you had let me cum” regulus snapped back, making evan laugh. you smiled then pouted at regulus.

“he’s so mean isn’t he, i’ll make sure you cum tonight baby” you said to him as you took the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up and off him. regulus had scars, not at many as sirius and definitely not as many as remus. he told you about them once, one day on the astronomy tower late into the night.

“thank you” regulus mumbled and side eyed evan. you took off your shirt and looked at evan, he was undoing his pants.

“how about you show her how thankful you really are” evan said with a smirk, regulus looked up at you.

“can i?” he asked, you nodded your head and regulus’ hands went to your panties and pulled them down quickly.

“good boy” evan praises him, your hand went to evans cock which was covered by his boxers. regulus kissed your thighs a few times before licking your slit.

regulus moved your leg over his shoulder, his tongue getting faster as you were getting more turned on. evan leaned down to kiss you, his hand going to your jaw.

you moaned as evan kissed you, regulus’ tongue was lapping at your clit quickly. evans grip on your jaw held you where he wanted you, you continued to touch evans cock.

you pulled down his boxers, he was as hard as regulus now, you broke the kiss and brought your hand to your mouth and spit before stroking his cock.

evan groaned and rolled his head back, you focused on his tip then started stroking him from his base to his tip over and over.

regulus pressed kisses on your clit before sucking then moving down to your entrance. he spread you apart with his fingers, his cock straining in his boxers made him think about touching himself but he wanted to be good for both of you.

“you’re doing so good reggie” you moaned, evan grinned and watched regulus.

a few minutes later you were struggling to keep your hand going, you were so close to cumming, evan knew it and so did regulus, reggie was going faster.

“i think that's enough reg, i think its her turn to make you feel good” evan said, regulus whined and pulled away from you.

regulus leaned up and locked your lips with his, evan started moving his hips while you kept stroking him. regulus pushed himself against his boxers, he was trying so hard to be good.

evan watched you two, his hand moving down to yours, he guided you— making your touches on him more firm. your other hand snaked down into regulus’ boxers and once he felt your soft hand grasping his cock his body shivered and pushed into you.

you could hear evan laugh softly. you smiled as you teased regulus, making him shudder and break the kiss multiple times.

regulus broke the kiss and rested his forehead on your shoulder.

“please—please, keep touching me— i'm almost there” regulus begged, his eyes were closed tightly and he pressed more into you.

you glanced at evan, silently asking for permission.

evan grabbed regulus by his hair gently, pulling his head back to look at him.

“why would you want to cum in her hand when i was gonna let you cum in her” evan asked, cocking his head slightly and furrowing his brows. you stopped touching regulus, pulling your hand out of his boxers.

“what do you wanna do reggie?” you asked him, placing a kiss on his neck.

regulus lets out a sigh, “i wanna cum in you” he says with a nod.

evan let go of regulus’ hair, your hand dropped from evan as he took a step back and walked to the other side of the bed.

“lay down regulus” he commanded, regulus moved from you and got onto the bed, you turned to watch them.

evan guided regulus onto his back, moving his head to hang off the edge of the bed a bit. your hand moved to regulus’ thigh, rubbing up and down and inching closer to his boxers.

you moved closer to regulus, now hooking your fingers on his waist band.

“you remember don’t you? tap my thigh three times for me to stop” evan reminded him, regulus nodded and hummed in agreement, you and regulus made eye contact as you pulled his boxers down to his mid thigh.

“i love you” you mouthed to him, his face went a bit red before he mouthed it back.

evan smiled as you moved to straddle regulus. he leaned towards you, locking your lips with his for a few moments.

he pulled back, “are you ready?” he whispered softly.

“more than ready” you said, pressing one last kiss on his lips before sinking down onto regulus’ cock.

a sigh came from both of you, you hadn’t had him in so long and it just feels so right. regulus was covered in goosebumps, the feeling of you around him felt so good.

evan tapped regulus’ mouth with his cock. “open your mouth baby” he instructed. evan’s cock glided into regulus’ mouth smoothly, regulus was basically trained to take evan, you three just started and regulus was practically deep throating him.

regulus’ eyes closed and he moved one hand to evan’s thigh and the other to yours. you could see the outline of evan’s cock in regulus’ throat which made you wetter. you started moving your body up and down, trying to find the right spot where your clit would make contact with his pubic area.

“you’re doing so good reggie, being so good for us” you praised, your hand rested on his ribs and the other on the bed. evan could feel regulus whimper, the vibrations took some air from him.

“he really liked that” evan groaned out as he fucked regulus’ mouth faster. you could hear noises coming from regulus as he took evans cock, his nails digging into the skin of your thigh.

you threw your head back as you found the right spot, your clit dragging on his skin and his cock hitting your sweet spot. evan watched you, he missed you so much and was so relieved there was time for you three to be together, he didn’t care if you three just sat in silence, he just wanted to be with you and regulus.

“you’re so pretty darling” evan moaned, his hand grasping your neck gently, you smiled at him and leaned closer to him. your head was still a little tilted back and evan bent to meet you halfway. a sloppy kiss broke out between you two, you tried to keep up but with the friction on your clit it was getting harder to keep a clear head.

evan kept his thrusts at a good pace with a few stops in between so regulus could get a breath, he could feel every moan and whimper regulus produced.

you pulled at evans lip with your teeth teasingly.

“i love you” you whispered into the kiss and evan moaned it back.

you gasped when you felt regulus cum inside you, painting your insides with his cum. your cunt basically milked him, it started to run down out of you and onto the part of his shaft that was exposed and down his balls.

reggie was trembling, you could feel it. Now the knot in your stomach was getting tighter, regulus’ hand was gripping your thigh harsher.

you muttered cuss words as you tried to chase your climax, you were close, so close you could feel the beginning of it. you twisted the bed sheets in your fist as you tried to keep the friction on your sensitive clit up.

evan pressed his lips to your forehead, you watched evan’s dick move in regulus’ throat. you knew you were probably overstimulating reggie.

you clenched around his cock which made regulus whine.

you moaned as you clenched harder, you tried to keep moving as you came, trying to get as much stimulation as possible, your muscles tensed up and your abdomen trembled.

evan was soon to follow, his breathing getting quicker as he could barely stand any more stimulation from regulus. his cum shooting down regulus’ throat, he could feel regulus swallowing everything he gave him and once he was empty evan pulled out of regulus’ mouth.

Regulus took in a few deep breaths and coughed a few times. you gently laid on regulus, your head resting on his chest, his cock still in your cunt. regulus’ hand came to your back, tracing shapes on your skin.

“you took me so good reggie, i’m so proud of you baby” evan praised, leaning down to kiss regulus’ forehead.

you hummed in agreement with evan, “we’re both so proud of you” you added. regulus smiled and mumbled a ‘thank you,’ you felt evan place a hand on your head, ruffling your hair.

“you alright darling?” he asked, you smiled and nodded.

“just perfect” you responded.

#regulus black #evan rosier #marauder era #regulus black smut #regulus black x reader smut #evan rosier x reader #regulus black x reader x evan rosier #evan rosier smut #marauders era x reader #regulus black x reader #evan rosier x reader smut #marauders era smut #poly!evan and regulus #poly!revan #poly! evan rosier x regulus #smut #hogwarts smut

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leighsartworks216 · 6 months

Text

No Alarms and No Surprises, Please

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

I had this idea and decided to write it "real quick" (it took like two hours). I meant to do just like a really short thing so I could eat lunch and then get back to work, but then my brain was like no we gotta set up context

Titled after the song "No Surprises" by Radiohead. It doesn't exactly fit, but it felt right in my mind

Warnings: mentions of murder, tense moments, injury, burning flesh, bruises, bones breaking, blood mention, nausea mention, angst, literal hurt/comfort, soft Astarion moments

Word Count: 1,863

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

You peeked slowly around the corner, holding your breath. Astarion hovered just behind you, almost touching you as you both surveyed your surroundings.

It was a palace, that much you knew. You also knew the guards were exceptionally strong. You already wasted enough healing spells and potions on the two guarding the door - you were just lucky they didn’t call for reinforcements. You also knew there was an artifact deep within the heart of this place that could provide some insight into removing the tadpoles.

“We’ll have to go around,” you breathe out slowly to the spawn. He gives a slight nod. As much as he loved bloodshed, sneak-killing all of them would be too high a risk. You almost came face to face with him when you look over your shoulder. He gives you a knowing smirk as he backs off. You nod down a side-hall. “That way.”

You gesture to Gale and Shadowheart, making sure they knew the plan. They nodded, waiting. You turn back to the patrolling sentinels. Their movements are constant and predictable, each pace following the same amount of steps. They sync, facing away from your destination, and you wave a hand for a companion to go.

Gale, ever the gentleman, lets Shadowheart go first. She hides behind the wall, out of sight. You wait again and gesture for Gale to go. He bites back complaints about his knees that creak under the duress of sneaking. He arrives just as a guard turns. Astarion could hear your heart thumping wildly in your chest; it pounds so loud in your ears you can’t even hear the guards’ footsteps anymore.

He wraps a hand around your waist, carefully pulling you away from the corner. You stare at him, worried he’s noticed something wrong. He nods toward the hall where your companions wait. “You first,” he whispers.

You want to argue - he can see the wheels turning in your head as you frown at him. As the de facto leader, you always worked to ensure everyone else was safe before you. You rested a little easier knowing you’d be the one in harm's way should something go wrong. But Astarion was a rogue, and used to sneaking around to boot. He would be much better at timing his dash to the hall than you could.

After a moment, you nodded. He pushed you back to his prior spot as he takes your place, poking an eye around the corner and studying them. He thought you’d die of a heart attack if this went on any longer. When the guards turn, he taps your waist. You crouch as quickly as you can to Gale and Shadowheart. They greet you with a tense nod.

You wait in silence for Astarion.

He almost spooks you when he comes silently around the corner. But now, further from the immediate threat, you have a chance to breathe.

The hallway stretches on for what seems like forever. Closed doors and open arch-ways line each side, perfectly mirrored. At the end, there’s a very small statue - but you’re sure it’s life size up close. The prospect of a maze with the ever-looming fear of getting caught doesn’t exactly thrill you, nor any of your companions, but nothing can be done for it.

You sigh and lead them onward.

It’s too risky to peek inside the rooms - if there were patrols inside you’d all be jumped and killed within minutes. At each arch, you glance around the corner, down the other equally as endless corridors. It’s oddly quiet. Not a guard in sight, even on grander doors that seem like they should be protected. It leaves you on edge. Waiting for the boot to drop and leave you in mortal peril. At the very least, you feel safe enough to stand up. It saves you from Gale’s grumbling.

You peer around another corridor and try to imagine the layout of the palace. You’d found a map once, but it was too tattered to make anything useful out. The most information you gleaned from it was where the staircases were. If you could find your way to one of those, you’d be able to go down, deeper into the belly of the beast. You believe, if your slipping memory of the map was correct, you could turn down this way and go all the way to the end, and there would be stairwells on either side of the very-tiny-life-sized-statue.

Resolved to your plan, you step through the ornate marble arch. You feel the pain before you register where it’s coming from. You collapse to the floor, cushioned only by a strong arm and solid body. A hand clamps over your mouth, pressing down tight to keep any sound from slipping through.

Oh. That breathless tightness in your chest is not from the pain. It’s you screaming. Trying to, at least. Your eyes dart frantically around as your body writhes against the person holding you. Gale and Shadowheart appear in front of you, kneeling down and working as fast as they can to help.

One of your legs feels weighed down. You stare at the chunk of metal for too long before it finally registers the trap clamping down on your leg. It looks and acts like a bear trap, but it’s been improved to burn red-hot when activated.

Fear grips you like a vice. You become conscious of the fact the teeth of the trap are almost meeting. It’s bitten through your bone. Or nearly through, anyway. You didn’t process it, too busy being victimized by the sadistic mechanics of the device, but Astarion, Shadowheart and Gale all felt nauseous as the crack continues to echo in their mind.

“Shh,” comes a whisper by your ear. You whimper and gasp and struggle, but the arm around your waist only re-wraps around you to pin your arms down. “It’s alright, I’ve got you.”

Astarion looks away from your injury, peering down the halls. The sound of the bone snapping was loud enough to attract attention, he just didn’t know how much, or when they’d be coming. Not to mention where they’d come from. For all he knew, their luck had run out, and any second a swarm of golden-armored bastards would be charging down the hall they were in.

“We need to get out of the open,” he hissed to the cleric and wizard.

Gale cast an ice spell, focusing all his energy in freezing the hinge of the device. If he could get it cold enough, it would become brittle, and they could dismantle it and pull it from your leg like cracking open an oyster. Shadowheart focused on healing the burns being inflicted to your skin as they were happening. It smelled uncomfortably like meat roast. Your blood vessels were cauterized. Astarion could hardly take solace in the fact when the usually-delicious scent of your ichor was replaced with the smell of cooking flesh.

“We can’t move them yet,” Shadowheart whispered, barely biting back her panic. She couldn’t keep healing you forever.

Gale grunted, brow furrowing further as he willed the ice to freeze faster, freeze colder around the metal.

Astarion felt useless, watching and unable to help. Holding you while you thrashed in agony was all he could do. He hoped to the gods he wouldn’t reveal a bruise over your mouth when this was finished. “I’m here,” he whispered sweetly in your ear. It was all he could think to do. “You need to keep still, love. It’ll be over soon.”

The words didn’t reach. You knew he was speaking when his breath fanned over your ear, but the speech-centers of your brain were thoroughly turned off. As were any of the logic-centers. Anything that could have told you they were helping, to calm down and stop moving, was replaced instead with klaxons and sirens urging you to struggle and fight back against the pain.

Footsteps. Loud and clanging. Getting closer. Astarion cursed. “We have to hide,” he hissed again, panicked.

There was no time to argue. They all seemed to have the same idea as Astarion pushed himself across the floor with his legs, pulling you with him. Shadowheart and Gale stopped casting in favor of moving your legs, as carefully as they could possibly manage. Hot tears slipped over Astarion’s hand as you thrashed violently with the motion. But now, at least, you were tucked into a corner. Hidden behind a pillar that framed the arch of the hallway. Everyone held their breaths. You didn’t catch the memo, but the spell-casters held your legs down so you wouldn’t make as much noise.

The clanging of armor rose in volume until the echoes through the corridors nearly deafened everyone. You momentarily stopped fighting. Though, Astarion couldn’t tell if it was because the sound had reached past your pain, or if your body was giving out under the duress.

The steps - 3 guards, if Astarion had to guess by ear - slowed from a run to pacing the juncture of the halls. They circled around, stopping occasionally. One set of steps stopped mere feet away. If Astarion leaned forward slightly, he could make out the point of a nose. Shadowheart and Gale slowly pressed themselves back into the shadow of the pillar.

Something touching his hand startled him. He had to fight not to physically jump and draw attention. A hand, your hand, rested weakly over his. He let go of your arm and turned his hand to hold yours. He could feel you whimper in his hold, the shake of your breaths as they hit hot against his hand. You were scared. He was, too.

He squeezed your hand and looked back at the pillar. The steps hadn’t moved. The sentry was still there.

Seconds ticked away at a snail’s pace. They all worried for a moment the guards had chosen to stay there and patrol the intersection. Then the sentinel stepped back from the arch. More footsteps followed. A pause. He could only imagine they were silently saying they did not find anything. And then the cacophony of armor drowned out any last doubt as they retreated back down the hall.

They all let out sighs of relief, even Astarion who had no need for air. He turned his focus back down to you. Your eyes were shut, your breaths were evened out. You’d fallen unconscious. It was a small mercy.

“Hurry up so we can get the Hells out of here,” he huffed. Shadowheart and Gale nodded, equally as eager to get back to safety, and returned to work.

Astarion slowly removed his hand from your mouth. Light bruises where his fingertips had been began rising through the surface of your skin. He sighed, upset at the pain he caused even through necessity, and brushed a tender kiss over the darkest of the bunch. He was too overwhelmed with relief to care if the others saw him. “You’ll be alright,” he whispered again, even though they did not reach you. He was reassuring himself more than anything. It would have been pathetic, if he could think about anything other than your wellbeing. “I’m here, darling.”

---

Tag List:

@hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @olitheghostboy-blog @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @cyber-dump-171 @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @thespectacularspaceace @lynnlovesthestars

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suguruplsr · 6 months

Note

idk if ur requests are open but ok toji x reader based off of this song: I LOVE YOU HOE by Odetari/9lives it just gives me major toji vibes idk how 2 explain it but i heard and just KNEW cuz yk toji a lil toxic BUT ITS OKAYY

toxic toji w/ head cannons!

✰ ✰ ✰ sweet girl. so naive and gullible. he might have to hunt you down once you get too smart.. so just play along.

જ⁀➴ my brain wrote and made this. i love that song!

,, fem!reader , toxic toji , dark content , manipulation (emotionally n’ all of that) , yandere ? , smut , brief angst n fluff , mentions of baby megumi , toji killed someone in front of you , random person hits on reader , other kinda f’ed up stuff idk how to word , not proofread.

toji who nearly got scared for the first time when you said you wanted a break. a break from him. but admittedly, he was more surprised than scared, you were seriously going to leave him? he stopped spending all of his money on betting and started saving just so he could provide more just for you. he even decided on keeping megumi because you liked the baby so much. maybe because his heart also warmed whenever he’d hear you sweetly talking to the babbling thing in the next room, sitting beside his crib and sticking a finger or two between the wooden walls for megumi to grip onto loosely. a sight he enjoys seeing every morning.

now, toji doesn’t consider himself a desperate man, but after finding out that, within your little two week break, you ended up talking to another man. which you weren’t, in that context, the kind guy just wanted your number, to which you quickly declined. and he got a bit.. pushy, too much for toji’s liking. and you appreciate it but maybe not enough? you didn’t immediately cling back to him again, and you only talked to him to see the cute baby that was usually attached to his hip, and to occasionally check up on him.

so can you really blame toji when he decided to remind you that you were the only person who knows of his job? that you were the only person who knew of the blood he spilled, of the capabilities he had that could end your life. not that he ever would. him killing someone in front of you was enough. it was enough to have you back in his house, back by his side, back to him. and to think toji almost thought of taking a step further when you weren’t as shook as he, just about, wishes you were. however, your initial reaction before knowing it was him made his dick twitch, it’s so funny, how you tried to just act more so.. bothered by the blood, and not questioning his excuse of, “right time, wrong place.”

and as an apology, toji makes sure you get fucked thoroughly that night. in his bed. he didn’t mean to paint your front door in blood. poor girl.

“didn’t mean ta make you see such a thing pretty.” toji groans, hands clutching your waist as he guides you down on his cock, watching the way you bit your wet lip in anticipation, nail’s digging into his shoulder as he lets you go and you fall onto his lap with a loud sound of the slap of your flesh meeting, taking in his girth in your pussy with ease. the pain was brief, and you felt so full, legs shaking over his thighs as you try to say something, only able to think about how he stretched you out. why did you ever leave him?

“s’okayyyy, i— fuck. i don’t mind.. just promise to clean it up tomorrow, ngh, please?” you’re so cute, trying to only think of the gruesome view earlier as a normal thing. but toji had seen it, the fear that had flashed through your eyes at first, fear that even stayed with your eyes that lingered on him after realizing who was the reason of the sorcerers death. just thinking about it makes him want to spurt a fat load into your pussy, holding you tightly as he slowly helps you ride his cock. “mmm yea? of course i will, gotta take care my princess right?” and you think he meant that literally, considering he fucked you so good you were hella cock drunk in the morning, getting mad when he tried to leave early. but he had to clean up his mess right? so don’t get too worried. he’s filled with excitement after realizing he’s got you back.

toxic toji! who just needs to go to some extra measures after someone’s shamelessly hitting on you at the store. does the poor guy really not see him behind you, trying, to read the contents of food before picking it out? something he never does. he’s just thinking about the 563 ways he could kill that man, wait! he just thought of another!

so he wraps his larger arm around your waist, giving a small peck on your cheek as he whispers something about “getting home before megumi wakes up” but toji’s staring dead into the guys eyes, maybe he should find out if hes on someone’s hit list. of course he’d gladly kill him without getting paid but if he does get some cash in his pocket, then at least he’d have a reason to not gain your look of disappointment..

toxic toji! who always keeps you stable. he never asked for you stay with him but there’s so many signs of you within his house. from another toothbrush to new fluffy blankets. or the extra cups on counters, or the freshly baked cookies that wait to be eaten by you, him, and little gumi. he buys you new clothes that stay in his closet, which he never minded. it was kinda endearing watching you rearrange his closet after asking, perfectly sectioning each others clothes. he loves walking in and seeing the contrasting colors.

but as adorable as it is, toji doesn’t mind making it a mission to remind you that he’s the one keeping you together whenever you get out of hand too much. the only thing he wouldn’t bring up, is anything relating to trauma you’ve experienced. he’s not that bad of a guy. but whenever you try stepping out the car, angry and upset, he doesn’t hesitate to list out every reason why you should get back in, driving nice and slow beside you. toji starts from the most basic things, “it’s late.” or “a pretty woman like you needs protection.” to “i’m the one driving. get in or else no ones finding ya.” or “y’know gumi’s gonna be sad without his mommy.. don’t want to do that to the kid, right?” because no one has the amount of patience to put up with you like he does. so just ignore the way his lips curl in amusement and how comfortable his hand feels on your thigh when you get back in. good girl.

toxic toji! who swears to himself it’s wrong to use his son as a gateway to your heart but it just makes the process so easy. he even convinces himself that it’s okay, children come first right? and he would hate for his child to lose his mother figure. and toji would hate to lose the woman he loves. so he’s bringing up megumi in everything, slowly changing the conversation to his favor so he can slide in the fact that, “the kid’s sleepin’. just get in bed and we’ll talk in the morning.” and you don’t talk it out, never. it weighs in your heart two hours tops before baby megumi is in your arms and you’re feeding him small little fruits. taking small glances at toji who looks at you two warmly and it makes your heart burn in affection because he’s not usually like this.

with the help of a few friends you talk it out with, and who have suddenly stopped talking to you after a while. sometimes the blaring signs of his actions are just so apparent you try to tell yourself that you’re simply staying for megumi. but you’ve only fallen deeper into toji’s words. he’s the one who’s made you think that way, so even if everything else fails, there’s always megumi. the child you both love. whose sadly a weapon that’s always on toji’s tongue. but even when you think it’s only megumi you’re thinking about, you find yourself reluctantly cutting carrots for toji because even with his job, the fruit looks so fucking uneven when he cuts it. yea, it’s just bothering you is all. just like how he puts the wrong settings for his washer, can he really complain about his sweaters when he didn’t set it to delicate? but you’re just so pissed at his inability to do simple things that you don’t realize how whipped he is. a smile tugging his lips when you gently take the knife out his hands. or force him out of his sweater to put it in your next load of clothes. no, he never did any of that on purpose. he just didn’t have his daily dose of you, to hear in his head how you’d scold him on certain things.

it’s a shame, you don’t realize what you’re getting into the second he’s on his knees with a box open on the palm of his hand. you don’t realize what you’ve done to that man..

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nexusnyx · 1 year

Text

imagine being loved by me

#NightSkyChallenge: Prompt 6 — The night we said goodbye. [“This is harder than I thought it’d be.”] [2.5k]

— joel miller x f!reader — a/n: this is mostly fluff and angst, hence the lack of warnings. i hope you guys enjoy this even though there's no smut. there are a lot of feelings to make up for that? anyway, i just wanted to imagine being loved by Joel (in the given canon circumstances) and this is what I came up with. enjoy <3

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤmasterlist | part two →

"Eternal tourists of ourselves, there is no landscape but what we are. We possess nothing, for we don't even possess ourselves. We have nothing because we are nothing. What hand will I reach out, and to what universe? The universe isn't mine: it's me," you stop there, uncertain and nervous for more than one reason. "You want me to go on?"

Joel only grunts beneath you, and the palm he has wrapped around your calf starts rubbing there. He's a man of very few words — always has been — but you recognize his cues. Go on, the circles on your skin say. And — "I like it a lot when you read," he speaks, startling you for a second. "'s nice."

Three years since you've been doing this — years, and this is the night Joel chooses to speak his mind.

You grit your teeth and put on a smile, no matter how much it aches to do so. "Look at you, borrowing Pessoa's ability to use words 'n all," you tease.

Joel pinches your inner thigh — a warning.

You take one of your hands out of the book to poke his side — I'm not scared of you. Never was. Never could be.

Even if he's about to break your heart.

You continue reading.

He keeps on drinking it in, and you wonder not for the first time if Joel hears a word that comes out of his mouth or if this is just white noise for him.

I like it a lot when you read.

Inside your chest there's a special place saved only for the things Joel gives you as a gift.

There's no space for material things in the world you live in now. Being a man of very few words, you learned how to read Joel Miller from the moment you met him — a useful skill, one that came in handy over the past few years. People misread him a lot. Mostly because he allowed them to; sometimes because he wanted it that way.

They thought Joel was gruff. Callused.

You knew better.

Joel's body language never lied.

He gifted you things that way — a shrug of his shoulders that hid the fathom of a smile creeping up his face. His furrowed brows pierced together whenever someone spoke in louder tones in your presence. The ghost of his hand hovering over your back in between meetings, or the way he never looked you in the eye before kissing you.

All of them signs. All of them a way for him to communicate.

That was funny. I don't like their tone. I've got your six.

I can't let you see within me.

Joel might as well be an open book.

When Tess introduced the both of you, she said, "Just don't gain expectations. He's like us — lost everything. But he's a decent man, which is more than we can say about half of the people that made it."

A decent man was an understatement.

He was everything and then some in between.

Joel kept it simple when telling you that he and Tess had to leave.

Neither one of them owed you explanations, but they gave you one either way. The three of you ran something together — an illegal, dangerous, and fragile something, but it was yours. Built it from your hands.

They claimed you were the brains.

"You gotta stay," Joel stated. Not a request, and nothing in his eyes that said this is open for conversation. "Marlene gave us very little info. We'll try to make it back as soon as we can."

The implicate we don't know if we'll make it back was there.

You never missed the unspoken words.

"Okay," you agreed, because there was nothing else for you to do.

Tess had left with the kid. She hugged you, giving you the full list of contacts that would be seeing you for things, and said, "Take care of yourself" in the way she always did.

Joel stayed behind to collect what he needed, and because he said a day wouldn't make a difference.

Was it over-confident on your part to allow the fluttering in your chest to take full form after seeing him drop his things on your hardwood floor and ask you to go for a walk? Was it wishful thinking to know he was stealing moments?

The familiar sight of his back gives you comfort as you follow him.

That's the way it's always been — you always knew that one day, you'd see this for the last time.

Maybe it's a small mercy that they're leaving.

It's been years—much longer than you initially thought you'd have, much longer than you prayed for after the first night Joel knocked on your bedroom door seeking the comfort he saw in your eyes you were dying to give him, much longer than you dreamed you would have amidst all the chaos.

He walks through the broken gate and keeps the wire lifted for you to pass.

Those things — the little things no one pays attention to.

"Thanks," you smile at him.

He hums as an answer and keeps walking by your side until you're both on the open field. After checking the area, Joel lays down with a grunt, patting the grass next to him.

That's when you started reading.

He just pulls out the book from his backpack and hands it to you.

Read for me, please.

"From where we left off, or you want me to go back a few?" Sometimes, Joel fell asleep mid-chapter. He liked when you went back a few so he never missed a thing.

He shakes his head. "I was listenin'," he lets you adjust yourself on the tree, and lays with his head on his backpack, pulling your legs over his body. Cradling your calf in his palms. "Go on."

So you do.

The sky is losing its light by the time Joel takes his arm out of his eyes, and puts a hand in front of the pages.

You bookmark it, even if he'll never hear the end of it.

For some reason, you stay quiet with him.

Usually, the silence is filled with you — your ramblings, questions about the world from before, silly musings that he indulges in listening to.

There's something tragic about being alive nowadays.

It's not really living — it's this. Reading between the lines, and claiming your stomach is satisfied because of the crumbs.

Joel's hand caressing your skin was a whole meal.

His eyes on you, above everything else, were like water.

When he speaks, it's gruff. "You gonna take care of yourself while I'm gone, right?"

If one day you held back, today is not it. "I will. Can't undo all your hard work."

He frowns, "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, c'mon, Joel. It's just us. You and I both know I'd never be alive if it weren't for you and Tess."

"Bullshit. You're the—"

"Brains, I know," you interrupt. "But without the brawn, the brains can't make it that far."

He scoffs at that, and you realize your mistake only when the words are out. "Think we both know nature said that ain't the case anymore."

"Stupid nature," you curse without any heat, and it works. Joel's lip twitches, itching for a smile. "All it's good for is being gorgeous."

"Hm. That'd be you."

Well. They aren't the first nice words Joel's ever said to you, but they make up an even bigger space than everything else. The little box in your chest engraved with J.M. is blanketed in those three little words, and judging by the way he ducks his chin and looks down, Joel noticed his slip up a heartbeat too late.

"Are you gonna take care of yourself?" you ask, nudging his side.

Joel sits up before he answers, taking the place next to you. Then, he spreads his legs and pats the ground between them, and you take the invitation.

Sitting with your back to his chest and his arms around you is your favorite place to be, and something clutches at your throat at the realization this might be the last time.

"I always do," he finally answers.

Your throat is tight, so you place both hands over his arms and pull them tighter around you. "Good," your voice drops to a whisper. "Can't let stupid nature have you."

"She gets us all in the end."

"I know that. I meant before your due time," you insist.

Joel's only half-listening. When he starts rubbing his nose on your hair, tracing the outline of your ears, that means his attention is divided. "How d'you know when's one's due time?"

"Hell if I know. But I know it's not now."

"Yes, ma'am," he plants a kiss on your neck, and you forget words for a while.

Joel always knew how to do that.

He kissed you awake, and sometimes, he kissed you to sleep.

It was common for the two of you to just sit and exist in silence. In a world where there wasn't much space for anything — not for words, or feelings, or relationships, or growth — having this was out of the curve. Having comfort.

He never tensed around you.

When it's just the two of you, Joel's body is the most relaxed; whether it's due to your hands squeezing his muscles or the way you run your palms through his skin to bring him back to himself—he's at ease.

Laid back, shoulders slack. He keeps on leaving kisses across your neck and nape, and you keep your eyes closed, enjoying the proximity. Your nails run through his forearms, and eventually, Joel just stops there in the crook of your neck, breathing slowly.

He asks, "D'you mind if I take your bandana? The purple one?"

Your favorite bandana. His 'lucky charm', as he'd called it once. "No, you can have it."

"You ain't gonna miss it?"

I'll miss you, Joel. A piece of cloth makes no difference in my life. "You need the good luck charm more than me."

"Is that so?"

You scoff, "I'm not the one walking head-first into danger." Craning your neck to look at his face, you lean your head on his shoulder. Joel's face is impassive as always, aside from the little pinch between his brows. "It's your good luck charm, isn't it?"

"It is," he replies, faster than you're used to. A smile grows back on your face. "What?"

"Nothing," you shake your head. "Just — didn't think you'd ever say that again."

He shrugs his shoulders. "'s the truth."

"What made it lucky?"

Joel takes a second with that one. His hand around your upper body finds the collar of your shirt, and he plays with it. He's nervous, and you have no idea why. He shrugs as he says, "Dunno."

Bullshit. "Hmm — something tells me you do."

"Yeah?" he's smiling now.

"Yup," you press, popping the 'p'. Joel stops fighting his smile, and you want to kiss him, so you do. Most of the time, you use restraints around him. Now is not the time for restraint. "Tell me," you plea.

He sighs, the smile still on his face. "That first time I was trying to find alternative routes in and out of the QZ, remember?"

"Yeah."

"So — I'd lost my way. Some Clickers found me and I had to run. Lost my shit—dropped some of the stuff in my bag. I only found my way back 'cause two days later I tried the bridge over the place I got lost at initially and — there it was." Joel's fingertips are tracing your collarbones, and you realize now his body around you is the only thing keeping you from a collapse. "I saw that ugly thing from far, far away."

It makes you laugh — of course he's going to play it cool, make it less of what it is.

You get it. If you had to talk about the things that brought you a sense of home, the only thing that came to mind was the smell of Joel's deodorant mixed with the innate smell of him.

You hide your laugh in his chest, and Joel's hands come up to your nape and the back of your head.

The hurt bubbles up with his touch — you want to drown in your own tears, but he's still here and that would be going before your due time.

"Please be safe." It's rare for you to use the space between the lines, but sometimes you have to.

Please be safe because I need you. Because you've grown inside me. Because the smell of you are vines covering every inch of my ribcages, because every time I wake up and you're lying next to me I remember why we're humans, because Fernando Pessoa might have been right that we possess nothing, but what I am is someone who still knows love.

"I will." Joel heard it all. He pulls your head back to look into your eyes and you see it in his — through the guarded walls of his soul, you get a peak at the man who worries. Who always brings you coffee, who never allowed you to go on dangerous runs, who trusts you to keep his radio codes in case his brother calls for him. You're the lighthouse, he once said. Joel's hand keeps making a mess of your hair, and he looks like he wants to say something, but ultimately, he huffs. "This is harder than I thought it'd be."

"Of course it is," you laugh. "I'm the only one that knows how to make a decent cup of coffee. Or at least, one that you like."

That's when he kisses you.

Because it's true. Not the cup of coffee — Tess can do that as well, even if she never does, but the reality that you're the only one that can and wants to.

The only one who's allowed it.

Living in a world that has no space for living is difficult, but Joel manages to fit the whole human experience in the span of a kiss and some touches.

He's kept you safe, and guarded, and gave you blinks and pieces of the man he once was in return for all that you've given him.

He loves quietly, and kisses hard, and protects with every cell in his body — Joel still loves, even if the word's been burned out of his tongue when he held the most precious life known to him in his arms.

He loves, and you feel it, and you'll miss it.

Joel pulls back with a promise in his eyes that he will be back.

If he isn't, you'll be a moving lighthouse. You'll find him.

☆ join my writing challenge ☆

#usernexusnyx #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller drabble #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou imagine #nightskychallenge #joel miller au

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harmonictechnicality · 8 months

Text

*no rest for the wicked*

my teensy contribution to @thefreakandthehair's spicy six summer collection 💖 | word count: 3k | rating: T | ao3 link | also, this wouldn't exist if @chocoarts didn't send me a sketch that immediately set off sparklers in my brain so bless youuu ✨

Twenty-six hours. That’s how long Eddie has been up. Twenty-six hours and twelve minutes. The heaviness hanging in his eyes is medieval-level torturous, and the cramp in his left calf is probably permanent by now.

A sane person who enjoys sleeping might be asking, ‘Why? Why put yourself through this when there’s a perfectly decent bed down the hall?’ And Eddie would be forced to reply back with two, simple words:

Concert. Tickets.

That’s right, Eddie is actively murdering his own brain cells to win two vip tickets on the radio. Twenty-seven hours ago, it seemed like a grand idea. Genius, even. It’s free and minimal effort - he just has to call the station every hour on the dot. No biggie, right?

Ha, sure. Tell that to the muscles in his eyelids.

“How much longer do you have?” Chrissy asks, snagging a magazine from the stack on the couch.

Eddie checks his watch. Huffs out a laugh. “Let’s just say, I could watch the entire Star Wars trilogy including the credits for each one.”

“Translating to...?”

“Seven-ish hours.” Robin quickly chimes. She pops out of her bedroom and joins Chrissy’s side, instantly threading their hands together. They share a look, one that makes Eddie believe in nice things, even in his state of misery. It’s their superpower, injecting their optimistic outlook into the atmosphere. Infectious in the best way.

“I always forget that you speak fluent nerd.” Chrissy snorts.

“Ouch.” Robin gasps and pulls away, stomping off to their room. Too dramatic to be believable. “Get back to bed before I actually feel offended by that.”

Normally, Eddie is charmed by how hopelessly in love his roommates are with each other. But right now, they are his mortal enemies (well, tied with The Clock), because they get to sleep and he gets to stare at the lightbulb in the ceiling fan. Every now and then, it flickers, which never fails to startle him.

Good. He desperately needs the extra alertness.

Another forty-five minutes go by before anything noteworthy happens. Eddie’s other roommate gets off his night shift around one in the morning. The front door squeals as it opens, crackling all the adrenaline leftover in Eddie’s body.

“Scared the shit out of me, man.” Which could’ve been a literal statement if Eddie hadn’t just taken a bathroom break.

“Gotta get this door fixed.” Steve says. That’s what he always says when it creaks. The reaction never changes, always skating his fingers over the door hinges, mouth twisting to the side. Hands on his hips in disapproval. Eddie has to look away before Steve breaks out his insufferably cute ‘foot tap’ routine. “Hey - why are you still up?”

Ah, yes. Just what Eddie needed. A reminder that it’s fucking late. He finds the energy (or common decency, who knows) to point at the phone. Then to the radio.

“You’re still doing that, huh?”

Eddie nods twice.

“Damn, I’ve never heard you this quiet.” Steve sounds genuinely surprised. A little too smug for Eddie’s liking. “Didn’t know your mouth could stay in a straight line for this long.”

There it is. The rich boy smartassery that will never die. Always lurking in the depths of his genetic makeup.

Eddie claps, total deadpan.

The conversation lulls while Steve messes around in the kitchen for a bit. He’s noisily opening cabinets and clanking dishes around in the sink. Eventually, he walks back into the living room with two beers.

Both for him apparently. “Well, listen,” he starts out. Kicks his feet up on the coffee table. “I’m pretty wired after work, so if you need some company-”

“Six… hours… left.” Eddie musters out.

“Okay well, I doubt I’ll last that long. But I can give it a shot.”

Eddie smirks, raises both eyebrows. “There’s a dirty joke somewhere in there. Too tired to find it though.”

“Good to know the horny part of your mind is still awake.” Steve gives Eddie a small pat on the head.

“Oh? That’s a good thing?”

“Depends on who you ask.”

“I’m asking you.” It’s too direct, Eddie hears it. And now it’s just Out There - his inability to flirt in a subtle way. And yeah, he could blame it on sleep deprivation, but he’s never been known for his mastery of ambiguity so…

The pause goes on long enough for the light to flicker again, the room growing darker with it. Steve takes a swig of his drink and smiles. “It’s good to know, Ed.”

The light flickers even darker.

Eddie is fully awake after that. Which could’ve been part of Steve’s plan - stimulate his brain with flirty comments and keep him up with those melty smiles. It’s no secret that Eddie turns into a hair-twirling loser around this guy.

Even after living together for a year and seeing one another’s most disgusting habits, he still feels this way. Tight throat, stomach flips. Purely smitten in a way that would nauseate deadbeat poets.

In this moment, however, it’s a wonderful remedy to staying awake throughout the rest of the night. Much more effective than energy drinks and Tootsie Rolls.

Steve ends up on the floor, leaning against the edge of the couch. He sips another beer, recounting some bullshit that happened during his shift at the hotel. Eddie does his best impression of Listening to Steve’s stories, but the words are just buzzing around the glow of Steve’s hair and the shine on his lips. Nodding at seemingly appropriate times is all Eddie currently can offer.

“Sleeping with your eyes open, Munson?”

Eddie blinks hard. “Huh?”

“Creepy, but impressive.” Steve laughs, tapping his hand against Eddie’s leg. “You should add that to the Special Skills column on your resumé.”

“Bold of you to assume I have a resumé.”

They spend the next hour doing just that - adding useless skills to Eddie’s nonexistent resumé. It keeps them busy. Content. Steve smacks Eddie’s knee anytime he laughs, leaves his hand longer every time. Maybe that’s all in Eddie’s semi-dormant mind, especially since Steve shows casual affection to all of his friends. But the warmth of his palm is real enough to have Eddie fully committed to making Steve laugh as much as possible.

“What about… Expert Paper Clip Chain-Maker?” Steve suggests.

Eddie stares at the chain in his hand, the one he was oblivious to creating. He whips it around like a lasso and then shrugs. “A bit wordy.”

“So you’re saying length matters?”

“Christ on toast, Harrington. You’re awfully quick to jump to that conclusion, aren’t you?”

Steve doesn’t answer, just starts laughing again. Eddie didn’t even need to tell a shitty joke this time.

And when Steve’s hand hits his knee, sliding slightly up his thigh, Eddie laughs along with him. It’s the only way to cover up the heat rushing to his face.

Eddie enters the realm of delirium with three hours left in his challenge. He slumps onto the floor next to Steve, nudging his shoulder, staring into his sleep-heavy eyes. It’s four in the morning, inhibitions be damned.

“Do you think if you ever visit Europe, they’d call you Harring-metric-ton?” Eddie picks a piece of lint off Steve’s sleeve. Perfect excuse to reach out, move in closer.

Steve groans. “Yikes. But yes, that question keeps me up at night.”

“So that’s why you’re still awake. See, I knew it wasn’t because of my silly little concert tickets.”

As soon as the words leave his lips, Eddie convinces himself that it’s the truth. Which is so dumb, so stupid. But this seed of insecurity keeps him going, fully projecting his assumptions onto Steve’s harmless comment. Somewhere deep down, buried underneath his exhaustion, Eddie knows it was a joke. But he can’t seem to shut up anymore.

“The riddle has been solved, folks! We finally know why Stevie here is still awake.” Eddie exclaims, flinging his arms out to the side. “Alert Scooby and the gang at once! Mystery Incorporated can finally pack up their magnifying glasses and pursue careers with better health insurance. Ones that covers vision costs this time. It’s what dear, ol' Velma deser-”

“Eddie.” Steve places a hand on Eddie’s arm, holding him still. Was he moving? Oh god, was he shaking?

Fucking mortifying.

Steve’s thumb swipes across Eddie’s skin, tracing diagonal lines back and forth. “You’re rambling.”

“And you’re…” Eddie loses focus. He looks down at the hypnotic patterns that Steve is making. “There. Doing that.”

Steve stops briefly to flip Eddie’s hand over, starts tracing the lines in his palm instead. The pressure makes Eddie’s heart lurch up into his throat. He can feel it thumping in his neck, faster with every stroke of Steve’s fingers. All he wants to do is close his hand around them, keep Steve there for the rest of the night. Longer if he’d let him.

“I can stop if it’s weird.” Steve’s voice is so much quieter than it was earlier.

Don’t stop. Eddie thinks. Can’t say it like that because gross. Humiliating and gross. “It’s not weird.”

Steve keeps his focus on the motion, Eddie does the same. They stay like this for a while, just watching. Intently staring over the invisible lines like pages in a novel. Eddie is pretty sure he’s breathing too loud, can hear it above the whistle in the air conditioner. Wonders if Steve can hear it too.

Probably.

“That’s not why I’m staying awake.” Steve says, never breaking the pattern.

“No?”

“It’s who I’m staying awake for.”

Steve finally stops, right in the center of Eddie’s hand. The air in the room goes dense, weighted with acknowledgment. Something has changed and Eddie can feel it everywhere.

He tilts forward, pulling his gaze away from his hand and up at Steve’s lips. If he weren’t stuck between half-awake and total-delirium, Eddie would just do it. Kiss Steve the way he’s always wanted to. Syrupy slow and deep. Savoring every second.

He could do it right now, right this second. But his focus starts drifting as he closes his eyes. “Did Chrissy tell you?” Eddie grumbles, almost unintelligible.

“Tell me what?”

Eddie’s head falls, landing somewhere on Steve’s chest. He inhales the scent of laundry detergent (because Steve and Chrissy are the only avid laundry-doers in the apartment). It’s so soothing, drawing him further into a dreamlike place.

“Tell me what, Ed?”

“That I…” Eddie is nearly asleep before he can finish the thought. The confession:

‘That I’m crazy about you.’

Sunlight hits Eddie first, startles him so much that he jolts upward. Fully awake. It takes a few seconds of furiously rubbing his eyes before the dread kicks in.

Morning.

It’s morning.

“Shit.”

Eddie fell asleep.

Steve fell asleep.

“Shitshitshit. So many shits!” He fumbles through the labyrinth of blankets and pillows around him, snatching his watch from the coffee table:

10:24 a.m.

“Goddamnit!”

Eddie sinks back down to the floor, clutching the phone that serves him no purpose anymore. All of those hours of waiting and calling for nothing. Even if general admission wasn’t already sold out, it’s not like Eddie could afford tickets on his own. He can barely keep up with his share of the rent. Chrissy had to cover for his grocery run last week and he still hasn’t paid her back.

It’s just so expected too - for him to fuck up like this. Always letting opportunities slip through the cracks, making careless mistakes. No one will be surprised that he failed at such a simple task like calling a fucking radio station.

Eddie sets the phone back on the table and cleans up the living room in a daze. Every now and then, he mutters under his breath about being a total moron. He stays relatively quiet for the most part though. No use in throwing a bitchfest while Steve is blissfully conked out three feet away.

Of course he looks good sleeping too, even in the midst of Eddie’s breakdown. Unfair.

Just before heading back to his room, Eddie hears that familiar door creak. Same one that always sets off Steve’s inner handyman tendencies.

He looks back to see Chrissy padding towards him with a blanket wrapped around her. For someone who hasn’t had their mood-altering cup of coffee yet, she looks extremely pleased to see him. Maybe she knows about the fate of the concert tickets. Maybe this is an early-risers pity party.

Fucking yay.

“Chris, please don’t try to-”

His words are muffled by Chrissy throwing her arms (and blanket cape) around him. She’s so bouncy, the way she always gets with Robin whenever their favorite song comes on at the karaoke bar. He pats her on the back and clears his throat, still trying to piece together what this exchange could be about. However, Eddie is functioning on a few hours of sleep, so his cognitive skills are groggy at best.

She gives him one more squeeze and then looks up, positively gleaming. “I knew it! I knew it would finally happen!”

“That I’d screw up for the umpteenth time in my life? Gee thanks, Chris.” Eddie says.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you and Steve!” She whisper-yells back.

Was she snooping on them last night? He wouldn’t put it past her, snoopiness is the foundation of their friendship. Well, whatever Chrissy thought she saw, she’s wrong. Sure, Steve and Eddie flirted, both letting some potentially mutual feelings slip out.

But it was all cut short by Eddie passing out mid-flirt. God knows how Steve took that reaction. Probably assumed Eddie was so bored that he would rather sleep than makeout with him. Or worse, that Eddie was pretending to sleep to let him down easy.

Christ, he doesn’t wanna think about that right now. Not while he’s still mourning the loss of his precious tickets.

“Hate to break it to you, honeyjam, but nothing happened.” Eddie shakes his head, gesturing to Steve who hasn’t budged from the recliner. “It’s just me over here and Steve over there. No conjunction connecting us together in that way.”

He can already tell Chrissy isn’t buying it. She’s getting that little forehead wrinkle right above her eyebrows, just like an angry cartoon character. Her best attempt at intimidation. “You didn’t see what I saw.”

“Gay desperation?”

“No, you jackass. Come here!”

Chrissy yanks Eddie into his bedroom, demanding for him to lock the door. He listens, mainly because the intimidation is starting to work a little. They sit at the edge of the bed and she begins to explain everything she saw:

Steve constructing a wall of blankets and pillows around Eddie to ensure he slept comfortably. Steve waiting by the phone, tapping his foot in that insufferably cute way that Eddie loves so much. Steve scoring the tickets, celebrating quietly to himself.

“How long were you standing at the door, weirdo?” Eddie teases her to avoid the way his stomach is twisting around her words.

Chrissy shushes him and squeals. “And he kissed your cheek!”

“Liar.”

“He did, I swear! He kissed you on the cheek or the chin or the nose. I don't know which one for sure because my view was obstructed by all of your hair.”

Eddie instinctively combs his fingers through a few strands, undoing the knotted pieces. Not all of them, but enough to keep his hands busy while he thinks through this. Processing. “And you’re sure it wasn’t a dream?”

“Positive.”

“What about a hallucination? Didn’t Byers make a batch of those infamous brownies again?”

Chrissy gives a deep sigh. “Whatever. You’re hopeless.” She shrugs the blanket back over her arms and heads toward the door. More than a fair assessment, Eddie can’t argue even if he wanted to (he always does).

He stares at the line of posters along his wall, letting Chrissy’s words replay over and over. Imagining what it might have felt like. If Steve’s breath was warm or if his lips were soft. Eddie wonders how it looked to have Steve dipping down to his level. Staying so quiet, so careful not to disturb him. The visuals swarm his head until there’s nothing left but Steve.

Him and Steve. Connecting them together in that way after all.

So, Eddie gets up and walks back into the living room. He takes in the view of Steve curled up in the recliner, mouth slightly parted open. Chest falling with every sniffle, not quite a snore.

There’s so many emotions while looking at him. Eddie can’t just pin one down to fully comprehend what's going on. All he can do is repeat the scene that’s occupying his mind, settling in his bones.

“Here,” he whispers, placing another blanket across Steve’s lap. It’s feathery gentle, more than he intends for it to be. So gentle that Steve doesn’t shift or stir.

Eddie takes a deep breath and bends down, close enough to notice all the little details. The ones he’s been too sheepish to indulge in before last night.

The tiny hairs on Steve’s forearm. The creases in his t-shirt. The bit of dried toothpaste on his chin. None of it should make his cheeks feel this flushed, but they do.

He lets the rush of bravery wash through him as he kisses Steve on the tip of his nose. Just the way Steve must’ve done to him. It’s swift, lighter than he means for it to be. Barely touching. But it’s enough to switch his heart rate up a few notches, pulsing jumping in his wrist.

Eddie steps away, waiting to see if Steve wakes up. Not entirely sure if he wants that or if he’d rather keep this memory to himself.

“Thanks… by the way.” Eddie adds, brushing the tips of his fingers over Steve’s hand. Wishing he could trace the lines in his palm. Rewind back to last night and pause it there indefinitely. “I’ll tell you again when you’re up, but yeah.”

“Thank you, Steve Harrington.”

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #slight buckingham because I said so #lexssummerfanworkschallenge #biggest of shoutouts to lex for giving us this space to create and share together!!!#is the sleep depravation making Eddie good at flirting???#or is it all in his overactive imagination???#the world may never know #also Eddie is wearing one of Robin's shirts bc he never does laundry #that's not relevant - it's just a brainworm that he ironically wears her marching band tees #okay okay pls enjoy 💖#(and pretend I'm in a timezone where it's still August pls)

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matchamiko · 29 days

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for your writing exercise drabbles may i request 28. "Take it, take everything I've got, it's all for you, only for you" with choso (ns/fw would probably work best for this one 🤭) thank you! i can’t wait to read what you come up with

28. “Take it, take everything I’ve got, it’s all for you, only for you” + Choso

Warnings: size kink, penetration, creampie, unprotected sex, talking about anal, prone bone, half hearted degradation, one singular spank, afab reader (use of ‘girl’) .

He’s too big. Everything about Choso is too big. His arms and those bulging shoulders, cradling the crest of your head feel like tree trunks. His chest - oh his chest with a smattering of fine hair brushing your back, rocking with the motion of his hips. Those thighs, soft and giving on the days you curl into his lap to read, are mean and flexing and cut up with crescent indents from your nails.

His cock. Too big, too thick and too annoyingly curved up so he’s gotta use those too big hips to angle it just right. And his too big hands; you’re audibly crying into one of them, spanning the curve of your chin and jaw as he barely holds you up.

The only thing small about Choso, especially right now; are the kisses he whispers to the top of your head and temple. Wet with saliva and sweat but sweet with the taste of your cum on his Cupid’s bow, it’s a stark contrast to the size of him looming over you, caging you in, boxing you on the bed.

“Stop squirmin’,” he doesn’t want you to, not really. Choso loves it when you kick your legs out either side of his, trying to rearrange yourself to fit his massive frame on top of you. He’s unforgiving when he’s got you prone beneath him, pillow tucked under your belly and hips, your hand grappling for his ass as a means to anchor yourself - and make him go faster.

You don’t often use your words, too shy or too empty brained to say much aside from his name; so you resort to the claws, the teeth, the tugs and pulls of his body to where you need him. And Choso always obliges, sometimes with a soft smile and sometimes with this disgustingly dark scowl.

Like the one he wears now, drumming his hips into your ass, cock digging down, down, down into your guts at such an intense, bed rocking strength; you’re sure he’ll break you. One hand cradles your throat, keeping you above the metaphorical water, kissing the tears of your orgasms away, whispering dirty little secrets into your ear when he thinks you’re too out of it to listen,

“Maybe I’ll fuck your ass soon, I promised didn’t I? If you’re good, I’ll do it,” his hair falls around his face, sticking to the sweat on his brow and your mouth opens with a panting wail, “that’a girl, take my cock - fuck,”

You slam your hand on to the mattress, legs jerking from where he’s got you pinned between his and Choso chokes when you cum suddenly, unexpectedly, delicious and wet around his cock.

“G’on,” fists appear either side of your head, sheets crumpling under his strength and all you can do is lay there and accept the brutal thrusts of your partner, one after the other, over and over. Swinging his hips, cock long and thick and creamy, stirring you up good and sending shocks deep into your gut. Vaguely, you can hear Choso muttering above you, back straight and brows furrowed in concentration; whispering those little secrets again that he thinks you can’t hear.

“Take it all, fuck baby, s’all for you, all of it,” you’re not sure if he’s talking about the aching stretch of his cock or the warmth of his cum spilling into you, hips never stuttering and arms strong as ever. A wounded groan echoes from his chest when you reach back with shaky hands, grabbing fistfuls of your ass and spreading yourself with a whimper,

“Mmm look at you, taking everything I’m givin’ you, so good for me aren’t you?” His debilitating thrusts slow to sloppy, lazy grinds, stroking the strain of your knuckles, “so eager too, super eager for me to fuck your ass, or even just this pretty little cunt; s’cute,”

You whine out a ‘shut up’ and Choso laughs, out of breath and chestily before smacking the creased fat of your ass and you squeal, clenching hard and pearly drops of his cum shine around the fill of his cock. A big hand runs up the plane of your back, smoothing through the sticky sweat that had accumulated there from the evening, tucking round the nape of your neck and with a sickening smile, he draws you up into a kiss. You hum and arch higher, lips smacking loud and hips rolling into his, ever enticing, always enticing for him. A singular roll of his lower body has you mewling once again, breathing a wet little gasp into his mouth,

“Wanna take it again huh? Dirty little thing aren’t you? Can’t ever make you happy unless you got my cum in your belly huh?”

#this was a challenge but yay !! challenge !!#choso x reader #choso smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #miko.prompt challenge #miko.chats

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blackleatherjacketz · 1 year

Text

Good With All Three

Ari Levinson x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ Only!, NSFW, Explicit Smut, I horny-watched this movie, so I horny-wrote this story, I make no apologies!, Never Have I Ever, Alcohol, Kissing, Ari’s Magnetizing Gaze, Hands, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Vaginal Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Size Kink, Hair Pulling, Praise Kink (for him), Multiple Orgasms

Summary: You and Ari play a late night game of Never Have I Ever and things get very hands-on very quickly.

Word Count: 2.6k+

Tags: @bullet-prooflove @skittle479 @letsby

Read more of my stories HERE

“Never have I ever had sex in public.” Ari’s prompt leaves his lips as they curl into a smirk, their rosy color masked by the green beer bottle he nearly empties as he leans back in his seat, patiently awaiting your answer.

His questions continue to grow bolder with each sip he takes, ranging from ‘never have I eaten an insect’ to ‘never have I kissed a man’, and now to this. His eyes linger on yours a little bit longer as he draws the last few drops from his bottle, almost as if he can read your thoughts as soon as they darken. He holds your gaze until it finally breaks, venturing down to the patch of chest hair peeking out through his loosely buttoned collar.

You try your best not to envision him shirtless as you finally relent and take a defeated sip of your beer, giving yourself away.

“No shit?” He grins from ear to ear, setting his bottle down before quickly running his hands through his auburn locks. “I’m surprised.”

“Oh, really? Like you haven’t?” Surely someone as confident and attractive as Ari has ended up in a similar situation with someone in the past.

He shakes his head, sitting back up in his seat. “Too risky.” He grasps onto his bottle, examining its empty contents with a regretful sigh. “Gotta keep a low profile.”

“That makes sense.” You pause and think back on your experience in a JC Penny fitting room with your college boyfriend, remembering it with less fondness than you care to admit. “Mine was a long time ago, anyways.” You spin the base of your bottle between your fingers as one last drink swishes around inside it. “Back before all this.”

“Was it fun, at least?” He leans forward with an elbow on the table, a strand of hair falling in front of his eyes as his bottle nearly touches yours. “The thrill of it?”

You shrug your shoulders. “A little. It wasn’t all it’s cracked up to be, though.” You pretend not to notice as his knuckles brush against yours.

“Really? Why not?” His eyes have you again, the dim lighting of your fake resort matching them with the light blue denim of his shirt.

“It was a confined space, and even when he didn’t have that as an excuse… like most guys with big dicks, he didn’t really know how to use it.”

Ari gawks at you with genuine surprise, his eyebrows jumping up into his hairline as they wrinkle his forehead. “Has that been your general experience, or just with him?”

“Mostly everyone. They tend to rely on it too much, you know? And they aren’t very good with their hands or mouths, either.” You consider going into more detail about your past lovers but decide against it, the way he’s looking at you right now suggests a desire for more than historical knowledge.

“That’s a real shame.” He leans in close to you, barely whispering as the top two buttons of his shirt openly reveal his perfectly sculpted chest. “Because I’m big, and I’m pretty good with all three.”

Jesus Christ. He just came out and said it, didn’t he?

You blink a few times to properly register his words, a newfound heat brewing in your belly as you try your best to form a coherent thought. “A little cocky, aren’t we?” You manage to tease, your body picking up on his signals before your brain has the time to talk yourself out of it.

“More than a little.” He bites his lip and touches your knee with his fingertips, his thumb sliding swiftly beneath it. He grins as you try to stifle a gasp, the sudden act of intimacy shocking your touch-starved skin to the core as he gently encases your knee with his palm. He watches intently as you allow him to touch you, silently granting him permission to continue onward as you spread your legs even further apart.

“You don’t think women have lied to spare your feelings just because you’re hot?” You swallow hard and try to focus on the conversation as his hand ventures even further up your thigh, taking his time to close the gap between you.

“You think I’m hot?” He pushes the pads of his fingers toward your center, pressing them into your muscles as his thumb tickles the fine hair on the underside of your thigh.

“Maybe,” you whisper, just now noticing the rings of olive green that surround his pupils.

“Maybe?” He smiles, squeezing the bulk of your thigh as his thumb reaches the hem of your swimsuit. “I’m gonna need you to tell me the truth.” His tone shifts from playful to stern in a matter of seconds, tightening the muscles in your abdomen as he smooths his hand up your pelvis. “You think you can do that for me?” He brushes his thumb underneath the polyester just long enough to skim over your sensitive area.

“Uh huh,” you nod.

“I don’t want you to lie to me like all the other guys you’ve fucked.” He finds the tie on the side of your bikini bottom, pulling on the string that holds it together.

“Okay,” you start, trying your best not to hold your breath as his fingers warm your skin. “I definitely think you’re hot.”

“That’s good.” He unfastens the bow on your hip, his other hand pushing a strand of hair behind your ear as the back of your swimsuit falls onto the seat of your chair. “I think you’re hot, too.” He moves his hand across your hips to the opposite bow, unfastening it in nearly half the time. “Now if only there was a way we could solve both of our problems.”

“If only,” you whisper. You look down and watch him pull the unfastened swimwear off your body, instinctively scooting to the edge of your seat as his skilled fingers find themselves between your folds before you even have a chance to ask.

“Can you be honest?” He curls a finger under your chin and forces you to look up at him, spreading your other lips apart before teasing your clit with his index finger.

“Yes,” you nod your head as he deepens his touch, rubbing it up and down as your moisture begins to collect beneath it.

“Promise me you won’t fake it?” He looks down at his hand for a split second as he sends tiny little pulses of pleasure into your skin, smirking as your breath stills in your chest.

“I promise.” You can barely speak, his intense eye contact and skilled fingers quickly proving your theory wrong as each upward motion intensifies the bliss shooting up into your core.

“I don’t want you to worry about hurting my feelings.” He moves his fingers down the length of your folds, gliding them easily inside your walls as he cradles the back of your head, his lips merely inches from yours. “I can take it.”

“Okay,” you moan into the space between you, grasping onto the loose denim of his shirt as he pushes his digits in even deeper, his knuckles now flush against your skin.

“Tell me what you want.” He reiterates, curling his fingers up and toward him, pressing against that bundle of nerves in order to pull you in closer like a fish on a hook. The legs of your chair screech across the tile floor, almost deafening the both of you as he draws you near, your entire body taking the bait as he repeats the motion over again. “Tell me.”

“I need you to touch me here.” You reach your hand down and grab his thumb, lifting it up and placing it on your clit.

He smiles at your instruction, doing as he’s told before finally leaning in to close the gap between your lips. That stale, faint flavor of beer mixes in with the sea salt still on his skin as you breathe him in, savoring his lips and tongue as they explore your mouth with more fervor than any other lover you could bother to remember. That moan of yours turns into a needy whine as he presses on that special spot from both ends, massaging you from the inside out as his thumb sends signals of immeasurable ecstasy up through your spine and into your brain.

He kisses his way down your lips and chin, his beard scratching your jawline as he moans in return against you, reacting to your silky walls clenching down around his fingers. His mouth leaves a trail of fire down your neck and shoulders, his tongue and lips marking nearly every inch of your chest and stomach with his saliva until he pushes his own chair backward while getting onto his knees.

Instead of pulling his fingers out of you, he keeps his steady rhythm going inside your slick. He looks up at you with intermittent glances of salacious pride as he presses his lips against your inner thighs, sucking scattered bruises into both of them as you softly moan his name. “I don’t want you to say my name again until you come, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod, running your hands through his hair as he lifts your leg over his shoulder before diving in completely.

Every bold claim he's made up until now proves to be more than true as he licks a tantalizing stripe up each side of your dripping wet length. He slows his fingers’ pace inside of you, removing his thumb from that special spot only to quickly replace it with his hungry mouth. You try not to sigh too loudly as he laps you up, those eyes of his glancing up from time to time through strands of hair that fall in front of his face as his tongue flicks up and down in a delicately delicious pattern. A mixture of short and long strokes sends signals of euphoria throughout your body, like dots and dashes on the telegraph sending a complete and layered message into your brain until it reaches every inch of your fingers and toes, curling them in on themselves in sheer delight.

You grab a fistful of his hair as you feel yourself shudder, locking onto his eyes as he doubles down, tasting every bit of your flesh as your inner walls clamp down around his knuckles like a vice. You tug on his scalp, holding his head in place as you ride out your orgasm with his name on your lips, gyrating your hips against the tip of his nose as he continues to devour you like a starved man who hasn’t eaten in days.

“Ari!” You finally cry out as the pleasure nearly encompasses you entirely, wreaking so much havoc on your nerves and skin that you’re unsure if you can physically tolerate any more of it. Without thinking, you lift your leg up even further as he refuses to relent, planting it on his shoulder before kicking him off of you and onto the floor.

“How am I doing so far?” He laughs, smirking as he lands backward onto his elbows, the light reflecting off of the clear coat of your arousal on his lips and beard.

“Jesus,” you start, unable to stop your body from shivering in the aftershock as he looks at you like that. “I mean… good, you’re doing good.”

“You’re not lying, are you?” He stands up from his spot on the floor and runs a hand through his hair, his erection more than prominent in his jeans as he approaches you.

Good god, you almost forgot about that part.

“No,” you admit, catching your breath as your muscles continue to shake. “Not after that.”

“I believe you.” He takes your hand and helps you up onto your wobbly feet, walking with you almost as if the two of you are dancing before picking you up and setting you down onto the dinner table in one fluid motion. Your weight pulls against the tablecloth, clinking the dishes together before Ari pushes them out of the way to make room for what he’s about to do.

You can’t help but keep your legs spread apart as he steps in between them, your palm finding its way down his chest and over his clothed cock before unfastening his jeans to finally reveal what’s underneath. “Holy shit.” Your mouth falls open as his dick springs up from the denim you pull down around his thighs, its length and girth more than matching the level of confidence he always seems to have.

“I told you.” He raises his eyebrows before leaning down to kiss your lips again, the tangy flavor of your cunt spreading to each and every one of your taste buds as he brushes his tongue against yours. You savor your own personal zest until you feel him smile and pull away, looking down and spitting on his palm to stroke himself. He grins as you watch him work on himself, cupping his head a few times before noticing your jaw dropping on the floor. “Don’t worry, baby, we’ll make it fit.”

You laugh in utter disbelief as he lines himself up with your opening, gliding the head of his cock over your clit a few more times just to watch you squirm as a deep, guttural moan brews in his chest. He finally decides to push himself in, that moan leaving his lips in little more than a whisper as he begins to fill you up, stretching your velvety walls to capacity. His breath hitches as he disappears between your folds, guiding himself in deeper with more ease than you thought was humanly possible before he eventually bottoms out.

You whine as he holds himself there for a minute, glancing up at you to make sure you’re okay before taking his time to pull out and thrust back into you, giving your muscles room to adjust before he starts chasing his own pleasure. He lets go of himself as he rocks into you, cradling the back of your head as the wooden table beneath you creaks louder with each consecutive movement of his hips. He keeps his other hand on your hip, holding you in place as he drills himself into you, breathing heavily into your kiss as trails of sweat drip down his chest, soaking little droplets onto the fabric of his shirt.

He growls against your lips as you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in as close as possible as he feeds your body with a visceral pleasure you weren’t entirely sure existed until now. Keening against him as he continues to fill you up, your overstimulated flesh tightens around him in a rapturous wave that seems to flood your senses even more than it had before. You can feel it rush its way through you, seizing every muscle in your entire body as it squeezes the release right out of him, forcing him to twitch and spasm into your blissful heat. He grunts with his last push inside of you, grabbing onto your ass to get as deep as he can, the tip of his cock hitting your cervix as he coats your inner walls with his orgasm.

He kisses your lips and forehead as he sputters inside of you, keeping himself between your legs as he memorizes how good the sensation of your muscles feels around him before slowly pulling out. “Did I…,” he runs a hand through your hair as he catches his breath, all the blood rushing up to his lips and cheeks. “Did I change your mind?”

“Yeah,” you manage to whisper, continuing to hold him close. “Yeah, you did.”

#Chris Evans #Ari Levinson #Ari levinson x reader #Ari Levinson Imagine #Ari Levinson x You #The Red Dea Diving Resort #chris evans fan fiction #ari levinson fanfiction

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wreckedandpolemic · 1 month

Text

nsfw alphabet - white and gold!matty x reader

(mdni) this au has taken over my brain so you can all have a little a lot of filth. as a treat. white and gold isn't required reading but it's recommended. 3856 words.

warnings (mentions of): dom/sub dynamics, praise, cumplay, breeding kink, masturbation, drug use, oral (f and m receiving), unprotected sex, spanking, exhibitionism, overstimulation

a - aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

god he’s the sweetest. he’s obsessed with you, absolutely worships you every time you finish. if it’s been particularly rough, he’ll be even sweeter, kissing all over your body; gentle touches as he cleans you up; lots of reassurances. he overflows with good girl’s and did so well for me’s and so, so perfect’s.

his favourite thing, though, is putting you in his clothes after. especially early on, before you have a drawer or any clothes at his place, it’s pretty routine for you to fall asleep in one of his shirts, and the sight of you drives him crazy every time.

b - body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

his (and your) favourite part of him is his chest. he works fucking hard to look like that, and you’re quickly learning how hard. he tries his best not to wake you when he gets up at the actual asscrack of dawn to go for a run or to the gym, but he’s almost never successful. catching him coming back from the gym, though, is always a fucking treat, drenched with sweat and panting as you practically rip his clothes off. and he’s a vain little fucker who loves attention, so even in winter he’ll just turn the heat up and go shirtless, gratuitously flexing so you can ogle the muscles of his chest, his defined v-line, the trail of hair that licks down into his waistband. you leave bruises there whenever you get the chance <3

cliche as it sounds, matty loves your tits. he’ll buy you new bras just to rip them off you and bury his face between your tits. every time you fuck, he pays them special attention, kissing and licking and sucking and biting until you’re a soaking wet mess under his hands. one day he swears he’ll make you cum just from that.

c - cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

oh that man has the biggest breeding kink. he’s kind of insane for it actually. he’ll cum inside you every chance he gets, fucking beg for you to let him. “please, baby,” he’s practically whining. “wanna cum in your pretty cunt. need it. wanna stuff you full, make you mine forever.” you can never resist him, locking your legs around his waist and holding him in place as he spills deep inside you.

the sight of you with his cum dripping down your thighs drives him crazy, never mind watching you collect it on your fingers and clean it up with your mouth. he always wants to finger it back into you, kissing the oversensitive whines out of your mouth and muttering about how he’s “gonna fuck a baby into you, yeah? gotta get it all, okay? make sure it takes.”

d - dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he’ll never give back that pair of panties you slipped him at the dinner. entirely distracted, he’d forgotten all about them until you went home the next day and he went to throw his clothes in the laundry and found the scrap of lace in his pocket. for some reason, he can’t bring himself to put them in the wash, leaving them crumpled on the dresser and sitting at the back of his mind when he takes you out for lunch. when he gets home, the scent of your perfume and the red of your lipstick lingering on him, he stares at them for minutes, trying to convince himself that he’s not a horny teenager anymore and he shouldn’t.

then he remembers the look on your face when you handed them to him, remembers your dress sliding to the floor and leaving you naked and dripping wet for him, and his control breaks. the lace scrapes harshly against his tender skin as he pumps himself furiously, and he cums embarrassingly quick with your name on his lips.

e - experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

oh, he knows. and he’ll never stop reminding you. he loves hearing you moan how good he is, how he’s the best you’ve ever had (“‘m the best you’ll ever have,” he corrects), how he’s ruined you for other men. any time you want to try something new, he’ll talk you through it all sweet and gentle; “s’okay, baby. daddy’s gonna take good care of you, promise. such a good, sweet girl for me.”

if he ever even catches wind of a time you’ve had bad or even unsatisfying sex, he’ll take it upon himself to replace the memory, disparaging all the ‘pathetic boys’ you’ve fucked before him. he’s obscenely jealous, adoring your assurances that you’re his girl, that nobody else could ever compare. sometimes, he’ll ask whether you’ve ever tried something, just so he can “show you how it should really feel,” if you have and be your first if you haven’t.

g - goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they more humorous? etc.)

one thing you do teach him is how not to take himself so seriously every time you have sex. “doesn’t have to be so intense all the time,” you tease. “it’s okay if you laugh sometimes. m’not gonna turn to stone.” he doesn’t really take it on board until the first time you get high with him. by now, you have a key to his place, letting yourself in in the early hours of a sunday morning, having come home for a friend’s birthday. he’s on the sofa, lit spliff dangling from his lips, and he practically jumps out of his skin seeing you. a little tipsy, you climb over the sofa and snatch it from him, pulling deeply before he can even react.

both of you stoned, he’s more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him, free from the tension that strings him tight in his day-to-day. you climb into his lap, kissing him messily between giggles and grinding your hips down against him. when you fuck, it’s slow, indulgent, both of you laughing breathlessly as you fumble out of your clothes, matty’s fingers tangled up in your hair. later, you tell him it might be your favourite memory of the two of you. when he asks why, you shrug. “i dunno. like seeing you laugh when we’re like that. don’t always need it to be such an event, you know?”

h - hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

gonna be real something about this question squicks me out i think it’s the phrase ‘does the carpet match the drapes’ like that is gross

i will say that he could not fucking care less whether you’re shaved. the first time he catches you unawares, surprising you with a visit to your uni flat, you stutter an embarrassed apology. he stops you with a glare, muttering about how “only pathetic boys care about that. pathetic boys who don’t deserve to look at you, don’t deserve to even think about your pretty cunt.” then he has you sit on his face still in your short skirt and shows you exactly how little he cares <3

i - intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect.)

you wouldn’t have guessed it, but he really is quite a romantic. he loves fucking you missionary, watching your face as you take him, pure adoration in his eyes. he’ll never stop murmuring how beautiful you are, how lucky he is to have you, how you’re made for each other, thick, heady pulses of heat and desire and something more washing over you every time.

the first time you fuck after saying i love you, he uses the words every chance he gets: between breathy, wet kisses; against your skin as he traces his tongue down your body; tracing the words with a finger while he fucks you. when he dips his head between your legs, you can feel him spelling the words with his tongue in your cunt, helpless moans falling from your lips as you roll your hips wildly against his mouth.

j - jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he’s away a lot, always on some important business trip or other, and it drives you mental. somehow, it’s impossible to find more than a few snatched days where you’re back from uni and he’s in your city. so he spends a lot of nights in hotel beds with a hand around his cock and thoughts of you circling his mind. the first time you catch him in the act, it’s an accident — you’re only calling because you miss him, but the low pitch of his voice and his soft groan when you say his name give him away quickly.

“are you getting off, daddy?” his quiet moan is enough of a yes. “are you thinking of me?”

“always think of you, princess.” his words send a bolt of heat straight to your core. knowing you’re the object of his fantasies, the only object, turns you on beyond belief. “wish i could have you right now. need my girl all spread out for me, need to make her feel so fucking good.”

your hand has already found its way into your panties, wetness pooling against your fingers. “what would you do to me if i was there?”

k - kink (one or more of their kinks)

oh, it’s a long list. he introduces you to almost everything; you trust him to keep you safe through it all, so you’ll try anything once. somno, cumplay, bondage, edging and breeding feature most frequently, sometimes all at once, you flush to think of. more than anything, though, he loves being your daddy, practically blacking out the first time you use the word.

and then there’s corruption. corruption corruption corruption! he fucking loves reminding you about your age gap, loves moaning how you’re such a good girl letting a dirty old man ruin you. you love to tease him with it, playing up your innocence with wide eyes and pouting lips.

or the time he spanked you with a belt, bent over his desk after hours at the office. but that’s a story for another day…

l - location (favourite place to do the do)

despite your complaints about adventure, he’ll always love having you in his bed the best. he’s so possessive, nothing compares to seeing you naked and breathless and soaked against his sheets. he’ll spend long moments just watching you like that, committing the sight perfectly to memory before he makes you his over and over again.

m - motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

everything you do turns him on, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t adore you making yourself at home at his place. being a homemaker is in your nature, and it drives him wild to come home and see you cooking or cleaning for him.

the only thing missing, he thinks, is a ring sparkling on your finger and his last name joining your first. he tells you as much when he bends you over the kitchen table, rucking your skirt up around your hips and filling you in one stroke. “god, look so good actin’ like my little housewife, princess. can’t wait to come home to you every single fuckin’ day.” he punctuates the last words with deep, hard thrusts. “‘m never lettin’ you go, angel. gonna marry you, make you mine forever.” you can’t hold back a moan as you nod furiously. “you like that? yeah? c’mon, mrs. healy, cum for me.”

n - no (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

he’d never share you, so a threesome is off the table. he’s too obsessed with you, too possessive over you, the idea of watching someone else put their hands on you frankly horrifying. you bring it up once, more for curiosity’s sake, a somewhat stereotypical college experience you’ve never had, and he shoots it down immediately. “don’t wanna let anyone else touch you. they don’t deserve it.” he says, a little sullen that you’d even consider it.

“what about another girl?” you suggest, wondering if, like so many men, the fantasy has crossed his mind.

“don’t care about other girls,” he answers without hesitation. “you’re the only girl i want or need. forever, yeah?” he squeezes your hand, and you can’t really argue with that, can you?

o - oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

as much as he loves seeing you on your knees with your lips stretched around his cock, his favourite place to be is between your thighs. you’ve never dated a man who liked to give oral before, but matty actively gets off on it, moaning into your cunt as he fucking devours you. it’s his favourite way to wake you, pleasure pooling at the base of your spine while you’re still hazy with sleep.

“couldn’t resist,” he murmurs from under the blanket, pressing kisses to the insides of your thighs as you squirm. “looked so fuckin’ pretty, and you taste so sweet. can’t get enough of this pussy, angel.”

p - pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

he likes it rough because you like it rough. the man fucking lives to make you happy, any way he can. any way he can make you a drooling mess on his cock. as much as he protests about being “too old for this, darling,” he’ll fuck you anywhere if you beg pretty enough, holding you up against the wall and rutting wildly against you, sometimes with a hand over your mouth to muffle your noises.

when you do go slow, it’s intense. he’ll tease you with it, stuffing you full and just keeping you there, belly coiled tight as you clench and squirm, urging him to fucking move. slow, languid strokes, gentle touches over the most sensitive parts of your body, your legs shaking as you plead and whine. “so impatient,” he tuts. “don’t you trust me, baby? i’ll get you there.”

q - quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

he’ll almost never initiate them. he’d rather tease, get you desperate and needy and spend his time taking you apart. you’re better than a quick, quiet fuck in a grotty little bathroom to him. you see it differently, more into the instant gratification of pulling him aside in secret. he’s more amenable to it while you’re still a secret, those snatched moments sometimes your only chances to be with him.

you’ll never stop trying, though, teasing him until he’s groaning that you’re “such a needy little slut. can’t even wait ‘til we get home, hm? need me to bend you over in public, make sure everyone knows what a dirty girl you are?” you’ll stumble back into the party, sated and so dazed you're seeing stars, and squirm at his cum pooling in your underwear and the knowledge that he’s going to punish you for being a brat later.

r - risk ( are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

like i said, the pair of you will try anything once. temperature play? blindfolding? anal? check, check, check. at the start, you’re a little shy about it, murmuring about how you “saw this thing i think i wanna try.” generally, though, you’re the risk-taker, crawling under his desk before an important meeting and doing everything you can to make him lose control with your mouth.

“such a dirty girl,” he murmurs when you’re finally left alone. “what would people think, knowing my pretty girlfriend’s down there drooling around my dick, hm? my little exhibitionist, bet you’re dripping thinkin’ about everyone finding out what a slut you are for me.” he forces you back onto your knees under the desk at a light tap on the door. “can stay down there and keep me warm ‘til i’m done, yeah?” matty smirks, and you shudder as you obey.

“come on in.”

s - stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

even though you love to tease him about being old, sometimes you struggle to keep up with him. matty devotes himself to making you cum at least twice almost every time he gets you off, whether with his fingers, his mouth or his cock.

you’re almost in awe of how long he can give oral; your jaw aches for hours after giving a blowjob, but he’ll pin your hips down and bury his tongue inside you for what feels like eternity. you’ve lost track of how many times you’ve cum at this point, floating freely in a sea of bliss as sensation wracks every limb. “doin’ so good, princess,” matty says, lips and chin absolutely soaked in you. “can you take one more?”

“can’t. s’too much, daddy, please!”

he only laughs. “yes, you can. be a good girl for daddy, yeah? gonna take as many as i want you to, okay?” you moan. “words, angel.”

“can take it, daddy,” you whine, every nerve in your body on fire. “‘m your good girl. do whatever you want,” you slur.

“that’s right,” matty murmurs, dipping his head back between your legs, his tongue sending heat pulsing under your skin. “whatever i want.”

t - toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he loves spoiling you to an almost ridiculous degree. nearly every time he goes away, a tastefully-wrapped little box finds its way to your doorstep. you tease him with pictures and videos of you using them while he’s gone, attaching a message that it’s still not as good as you :(

when he comes home, he’ll use them on you, edging you for hours with intense vibrations on your clit and dragging it over your body while you squirm and plead, tears pooling in your eyes.

one day, you find that his interest in toys doesn’t stop at you. there’s a shoebox tucked innocuously under his bed that you open curiously, flushing ruby-woo-red at the contents. “found something earlier, daddy,” you murmur against his lips, your skirt splayed out over his lap as you make out lazily at the edge of the bed.

matty chuckles. “what’d you find, princess?”

wordlessly, you tug the box out and set it on the bed next to you. he swallows thickly, not meeting your eyes. “do you use all of this stuff, daddy?”

“i- i used to,” he stammers, nervous in a way you’ve never seen him.

“did they make you feel good?” he nods. “can i use them on you?” shuddering, he nods again, and you resist the urge to clap your hands. “oh, this is gonna be so much fun. what do you wanna try first?”

u - unfair (how much they like to tease)

so much. he’s practically evil. he’s better at controlling himself than you, able to torture you in public for hours on end without so much as displacing a hair.

his fingers rub circles into your thigh, inching closer and closer to where you need them as you press up against him. “daddy, please don’t tease,” you whisper as loud as you dare.

he clicks his tongue. “be patient, baby. good girls get what they want,” he promises, running a finger over the lace between your legs.

you’re a desperate, needy mess by the time he finally touches you, the contact electric and buzzing under your skin. “was patient, daddy,” you whine. “please.”

v - volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

another reason he doesn’t so much go for quickies —- you learn fast that he’s very vocal, liberal with praise that falls fluidly from his lips. you wish you could bottle up the sound of his moans, play it on loop like a favourite record. your favourite sounds, though, are the ones he makes unconsciously, when he’s dreaming of you. he’ll murmur your name, hips grinding against your ass, quiet moans and sounds you could only describe as whimpers spilling from his lips. you wake him up with your cunt stretched around his cock nearly every time.

w - wild card (a random headcanon)

it doesn’t come out very often, but he has a submissive side. the first time you find it, you’re spread out on his tongue, moaning how good he is, how amazing you feel as you cum against his mouth. “did i do good?” he asks, eyes shining. it’s a sentiment you know well, and the power of having it directed at you is heady.

“so good, daddy,” you murmur, scratching your nails over his scalp in reward and savouring the way he shudders under your touch. something about using the epithet as he melts under your hands is intoxicating. he’s patient, still, even as his body hums with nervous energy. “you needy, daddy? want me to take care of you?” you tease, pushing him down on the bed and straddling him. “don’t worry,” you say, slowly lowering yourself down on him. “i learned from the best.”

x - x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

there’s no polite way to say it; he’s fucking huge. your eyes roll back in your head when he fills you completely, cunt stretched around him. you giggle with your friends, spilling stories of your adventures, of screaming orgasms and being so sore you can barely walk, to their whines of jealousy.

besides that, though, he looks like he’s been sculpted by the fucking gods, all marble skin and defined muscle wrapped up in designer suits. he knows his tattoos drive you crazy, too, grinning as you kiss and lick at them when you’re working your way down his body.

y - yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

so high. he’s like a horny teenager. he wants you all the fucking time, every little thing you do driving him wild. you giggle and joke about how eager he is, “for a man your age,” and he pinches your ass for being cheeky. it works out great, though, because you want him all the time. most of the time, you fuck until he’s satisfied, and you love being made to take it, being a little toy for him.

z - zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

he’s a worrier, you notice pretty quickly. he’ll always make sure you’re okay, fussing sweetly over you as your eyes close and you cuddle into him. sometimes you’ll wake up to him tossing and turning, still wide awake. “are you okay, matty?”

he smiles softly. “‘m fine, angel. go back to sleep. sorry i woke you.”

“not if you can’t sleep,” you pout. “always sleep so good next to you. not fair if you don’t get that,” you frown, kissing softly at the corners of his mouth.

“such a sweet girl,” he murmurs fondly. “think a brew might help, if you’re up for it?” you take his hand and let him lead you into the kitchen, sitting at the table with a hot chocolate (tea, blech). the pair of you talk long into the night, and it becomes something of a habit when he struggles getting to sleep.

#this was soo fun i should do more silly little fics like this yay #some of these will be expanded into full fics in the coming weeks... watch out!#matty healy x reader #matty healy smut #matty healy imagine #matty healy #the 1975 #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 smut #writing #smut #white and gold

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