#man i just wanna make so much fluff | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ieirism · 7 months

Text

crybaby.

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

setting: modern au

genre: smut and fluff

contains: brother’s best friend gojo, protective older brother geto, use of pet names (baby, princess, sweetheart), unprotected sex, slightly mean gojo (but he ends up soft and sweet, I promise), dirty talk, overstimulation, mutual pining, dacryphilia, oral (f receiving), cheesy and happy ending <3

summary: satoru had promised suguru that there'd be no funny business while he takes care of his heartbroken baby sister... but he's never been the greatest at keeping promises.

“Stop being so mean to her, Satoru.” Satoru looks over at his best friend, who's clicking his tongue in disapproval, with a nonchalant grin.

“Not my fault she’s such a crybaby, Suguru.”

“Come on.” Suguru shoots him a warning look. “That’s my little sister you're talking about.”

“Hey, hey,” Satoru laughs, raising his hands in mock defense. “You gotta teach her how to grow thicker skin. Not my problem.”

“Every time you come over, she ends up crying.” The black-haired man sighs. “Don’t be a jerk just for one moment, won’t you?”

“Mmh, no promises.” Satoru grins. Sue him, he’s simply too addicted to the way your face scrunches up indignantly whenever he teases you, the futile yet endearing clenching of your small fists at your side, and most of all, the uncontrollable blubbers that leave your lips as tears roll down your cheeks.

Years later, you’re still the same. Just a little crybaby coming apart at the seams, completely at Gojo Satoru’s mercy.

“S-Satoru…” The high-pitched whine of his name only elicits a laugh from the man between your legs, sending shock waves of pleasure shooting through your body.

“Baby, you gotta stop movin’ so much.” Satoru’s large hands grip your thighs, holding them firmly in place as he continues to feast on your dripping pussy. “Gotta let me eat you properly.” He punctuates his point with a loud suck on your clit that has you mewling and twitching under his hold.

“T-Too much!” You sob, hands curling into the silky white stands on his head, tugging uselessly. “S’too much, S-Satoru…”

“You wanna take my cock later, princess?” He hums against your cunt, licking a hot stripe up your slit, chuckling as he watches your pussy clench around nothing. His gaze lazily travels upwards, greeted with the sight of you nodding furiously as tears stream down your cheeks.

“Yes,” you plead with wide, teary eyes. “N-need you.” Satoru smirks.

“Then be a good girl and let me prep you,” he coos, before diving right back between your folds, enjoying the broken sob that leaves your lips as he draws zigzags across your swollen clit.

“I really don’t understand you,” Suguru bristles, frustration evident by the way his eyebrows furrow as he eyes Satoru.

“Hmm?” Satoru looks at him with feigned innocence. “Whatever could you be talking about, dear Suguru?”

“You’re unbelievable.” He sighs. “Those gifts you bought her… they’re worth almost a million yen. What the hell is wrong with you, really.”

“Well, you told me I made her cry.” The white-haired man shrugged. “I had to make up for it, didn’t I?” Suguru squints suspiciously, at a brief loss for words.

“...You are not normal,” he finally scoffs.

“Of course not,” Satoru agrees, unfazed.

“You can’t keep doing this. You’re gonna end up spoiling her.”

“And what’s so bad about that?”

“Gimme another one, baby.” He’s faintly aware that if he makes you cum again, you really might pass out. However, he can’t really bring himself to be too concerned about that, not when he’s quickly becoming addicted to the taste of your dripping cunt and cries of pleasure.

“C-Can’t, I can’t — “ You sob, entire body shaking around his mouth; you’re so sensitive.

“You can,” he insists between hungry slurps, not letting any of your arousal go to waste. “Fuck…” You’re so sweet. Just how did he survive this long without having a taste of you?

“Please…” You’re still shy, trying your best to stifle your cries even as they fall in a steady stream from your trembling lips. Each loud squelch of your sopping pussy still has you cringing a little, not to mention the embarrassment that washes over you every time you catch a glimpse of your juices all over Satoru’s face.

“Don’t hold back anymore, sweetheart.” He reaches up to grab your wrists, pulling them away from your mouth even as you blubber out a weak protest. “Wanna hear you this time, say it loud. Say my name when you cum.” One more combined thrust of his fingers, deep into your hole with a flick of his tongue across your clit has you creaming on his lips for the fourth time.

“S-Satoru!” You’re unable to control the beautifully loud whine of his name as Satoru greets your orgasm eagerly, savoring every last drop of your release on his tongue.

“You made her cry again.” Suguru says, rolling his eyes as he approaches his best friend at their meeting spot.

“Huh?” Satoru raises a brow. “Haven’t even seen her since two weeks ago. What’d I do?”

“She’s sad you’re moving away.” Suguru tuts. “Can’t imagine why. Probably because she won’t be able to use you for your wallet anymore.”

“You implyin’ I’m just a wallet to her?” Satoru exclaims, a little offended. The black-haired man shoots him a deadpan glare.

“You know you’re not. But even you’re not enough of an asshole to use that against her.”

“It’s just college,” Satoru muses. “Kid thinks I won’t be back for her?”

“In two years she’ll be going off to college too.” Suguru shrugs. “She’ll get over you.”

“What a cruel thing to say.” Satoru laughs it off, ignoring the small flicker of jealousy that flares to life deep in his chest.

Satoru watches as your chest heaves up and down, in your effort to try to recover from the multiple orgasms he had just given you. You’re lying limp on your bed, unable to move save for the periodic twitching of your thighs.

“Sorry, princess, was that too much?” He’s teasing, but there’s a genuine edge of concern to his voice as he cups your cheek in his hand. You nod, a few tears falling down your face. “Aww, forgive me. You’ll forgive me, right?” In response, you tug weakly on his shirt collar, asking him to come closer. He relents, allowing you to drag him down towards you. Satoru’s about to ask what you need, before you suddenly tilt your head upwards to kiss him.

Satoru lets out a small noise of surprise as your soft lips press against his, hesitant at first, but deepening once your fingers find further purchase in his shirt, gripping tightly. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you up into his lap.

You kiss him a little clumsily, still boneless from your release but Satoru doesn’t mind. Doesn’t mind at all, of course, when your lips are so soft against his, and he can swallow every quiet whimper that escapes you.

“Satoru…” Your voice is raspy and small, but your eyes are wild as you cling helplessly to him. “A-Am… Am I ready yet?” His jaw goes slack in awe at the adorable, troubled expression on your face. Your lips are swollen into a permanent pout now as you look up at him with those wide doe eyes that always had him weak.

“...Think you are,” he heaves, realizing that he’s just as fucked out as you are. It takes everything in him to hold back the urge to just take you.

“She’s grown up.” Satoru raises his eyebrows in pleasant surprise at the pictures that Suguru shows him. Your family had recently gone on vacation, so Suguru had been gone for an entire week, leaving his best friend and roommate all alone.

“That’s what you’re looking at?” Suguru shoots him an annoyed look.

“Oh,” says Satoru, glancing back at the picture. “Uh, nice waterfall.”

“One of the seven natural wonders of the world and all you can see is my baby sister.” Suguru exhales deeply.

“What? You can’t blame me too much. Kid’s changed,” the white-haired man shoots defensively.

“She’s twenty, not sixteen anymore. Of course, she’s changed.” Suguru pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I know that, I just…” Satoru pauses, glancing back at the picture. You’re still tiny, only reaching up to your brother’s, and by extension his, chest. Your face has matured, though, baby fat gone from your cheeks. That didn’t stop you from being any less adorable, though — your smile is as radiant as ever. He can’t help but let a small smile of his own slip onto his face.

“Hopeless,” Suguru mutters in disbelief. “Hopeless, the both of you.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing.”

Satoru lets you unbutton his shirt, watching in amusement as your eyes narrow with focus as each button pops open, slowly revealing more and more of his skin.

“Um…” You’re nervous. It’s plain as day from the way your lip wobbles as your eyes sweep down the view of his chiseled chest and torso, only to end at the prominent bulge in his slacks.

“You sure you’re okay with this, princess?” He cups your chin in his hand, gently tilting your face to look straight at him. “Need to rest?”

“N-No!” You protest immediately, shaking your head. “I…” You glance back down at his erection, a flicker of desire in your eyes. “I need…” You trail off, unable to say it.

“Okay.” If he was feeling meaner, he would make you tell him exactly what you want. But he wants to be nice today, especially since you’ve already cried so much for him. “Okay, baby. Don’t worry, you’ll have it. Can you unzip me? Can you do that for me?” You hesitate for a moment. Satoru briefly wonders if he’s perhaps pushed you a bit too hard.

But then you’re reaching for him, small hands finding the top of his pants and slowly undoing the button. Your fingers close around his zipper, slowly tugging it down.

“Good girl.” He pecks your forehead. “Take me out of my boxers, alright?” As his angry, swollen cock springs free from his underwear, you can’t contain your gasp.

“Oh…” The soft sound leaves you almost involuntarily as you stare and wonder at how the hell that’s gonna fit in you. He’s thick and long, rock hard and dripping with pre-cum. You slowly wrap your own hand around his cock, lips parting as your fingers fail to meet in the middle. Your own pussy clenches in a combination of fear and excitement.

“See why I needed to prepare you, now?”

“Sorry to spring this onto you all of a sudden, especially since you just got into town.” Suguru sighs over the phone.

“Don’t worry about it. If you’re not around to take care of her, duty falls on me,” says Satoru as he reverses his car out of the parking lot, heading to the location Suguru had sent him.

“Let me know when she’s home safe. Tell her I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Yeah, will do.”

A pause.

“And… no funny business, got it?”

“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“I’m serious, Satoru. She just confronted her asshole cheater ex. She doesn’t need you drooling all over her right now.”

“Relax, dude. I’m not that desperate.” Satoru rolls his eyes.

“Good. Keep it that way.”

His conversation with Suguru lies in the back of his mind, forgotten, as Satoru places a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Lay back and relax for me, sweetheart.” You immediately obey, laying yourself down on your bed, heart beating fast in anticipation.

“S’gonna hurt, right?” you ask softly.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ve gotten you ready, see?” Satoru comforts you, brushing his fingers against the wetness still soaking your entrance.

“Oh.” Tears suddenly well in your eyes. “Um, s-sorry, it just always hurt with him…”

“What?” Satoru’s eyes darken, unsure if you mean what he thinks you do.

“He just…” You bite your lip, trying not to let your tears fall. “H-He just p-put it in, y’know?” His heart drops in his stomach. Two years, two whole fucking years with that asshole, and he had never given you proper foreplay? No wonder you were so sensitive and responsive to his touch, your body had never received the attention it’s always deserved.

“Baby.” Satoru squeezes your hand, fighting down the urge to find that asshole and beat him up. That could come later. Right now, he has to focus on you. “It’s not gonna be that way this time. Not with me. Okay?” You nod, squeezing his hand in return.

“O-Okay.”

It’s the first time he’s seen you in person in four years, and here you are in the passenger seat of his car, crying your eyes out.

You feel absolutely humiliated. You had called Suguru to ask him to pick you up from your ex-boyfriend’s house after you dumped him, but he had told you he couldn’t.

“I’ll send someone to get you. Hang tight,” he’d said.

You just didn’t know it was going to be Gojo Satoru, who hadn’t returned to your hometown since he graduated high school.

“I’m gonna bring you home,” Satoru had told you, getting out of the driver’s seat to open the car door for you. “Relax, okay? You’re safe now.” He had buckled your seatbelt for you before settling in himself, starting the engine without another word.

The car ride back to your house is silent, save for the continuous sniffles that wrack your body as you try your best to stop your tears. Satoru silently puts a box of tissues in your lap at some point, and your heart stutters at the action.

You’ve known for many years now, that you never got over your first love.

Clothes fully discarded, Satoru lowers himself on top of you, enamored with the way you shyly glance down at`his cock, gaze wavering for a moment before slowly looking back up at him, eyes begging for him to do something.

“Tell me if you want to stop.” He brushes his fingers, tender and gentle, across your cheek. You nod, hand curling around his bicep.

“Kiss me,” you request, and he gladly obliges, leaning down to peck your lips.

“M’gonna go slow,” he tells you. “You want me to stop, hit me real hard — “ He smacks his own chest. “ — Right here. Got it?”

“I won’t,” you say bravely, eyes glimmering with determination. “I… I can take it.” Satoru laughs quietly.

“Alright, princess. Don’t act all cute, you’re just rilin’ me up now.” You smile, a little mischievously.

“Oh, you caught me.”

“Fuck…” Satoru groans, pressing his forehead against yours. “You’re gonna kill me.” His fat tip taps against your clit once, twice. You gasp, eyes going glossy as you feel your swollen pussy clench desperately around nothing.

“Satoru,” you plead. “P-Please…”

“I’ll give you what you need. Relax for me…” He aligns his tip with your entrance, prodding between your folds. Inch by inch, he sinks his cock into your warm, throbbing cunt, almost blacking out himself at the sensation of your tight, velvety walls clamping around his cock.

“A-Ah…!” You whine, gripping his bicep and squeezing your eyes shut. The stretch is almost too much, but the delicious sensation of being filled to the brim has you seeing stars.

“You okay?” Satoru pants, willing himself to stop from splitting you open on his cock to check on you.

“Yes,” you whimper. “Yes, a-ah, please k-keep going…” Satoru rests his head in the crook of your neck as he continues to push himself in, enjoying the soft, labored whimpers as you take more and more of him, deep into your sopping hole.

“Almost there,” he coos. “Almost there, princess…” After what feels like an eternity, he finally sheaths the last of him in you, biting at your shoulder as he finally, finally feels exactly the sensation of being one with you.

“Drink. You’ll feel better.” Satoru places a glass of water in your hand as he leads you to your living room couch. You stubbornly refuse to look at him, letting the glass sit uselessly in your hand as you stare down at your lap.

He sighs, not sure what he should do. He’s never been good at comforting others, let alone his friends’ kid sisters. He knows you’re not a kid anymore, you’re a full grown adult, but the way you’re sulking and ignoring him says otherwise. Still, his fondness for you wins above all else as he takes the water back and puts it on the coffee table, letting you sit in silence.

”You gonna be okay by yourself?” he asks instead. Satoru doesn’t want to leave you alone, but he’s not sure if his presence will even help. He hasn’t been an active part of your life in years, and he has a feeling that this incredibly vulnerable moment isn’t the best time to barge back in. You don’t reply, twiddling your thumbs.

“Call me if you need anything,” Satoru says hesitantly. “You have my number, right?” No response. “I’m gonna write it down for you.” He finds a spare stack of Post-Its and does just that. You don’t react even when he sticks the note right on top of your forehead, in a shitty attempt to lighten your mood. Your deadpan glare, so much like your brother’s tells him it did not work.

“Suguru’s gonna be back tomorrow,” he tells you, taking the note off and soothing the annoyed crease between your eyebrows. “Go get some rest now, yeah?” You look away. Satoru sighs. Seeing you upset like this hurts him way more than he would like to admit. “M’gonna leave. Get to bed soon.” He pats the top of your head, just like he always used to do, which always made you whine when he messed up your hair. You’re quiet now, not a peep of complaint leaving you.

He really misses hearing your voice.

“Bye, then.” Satoru’s about to turn around and leave, but you do something that seems to shock both of you. Your fingers curl and grab onto the hem of his collared shirt, stopping him in his tracks. He stares down at you in surprise, trying to process the sight of your small, thin fingers holding onto him for dear life.

“Stay.” The one word was enough to crumble his self-control.

You’re struggling to adjust to his size; he can tell from the way you’re digging your nails into his arm and the trembling of your thighs around his waist. Satoru stays still, waiting for your permission to go any further, right hand rubbing soothing circles on your hip.

“Don’t stress yourself, baby, just tell me what you want, when you want it,” he murmurs against your neck, waiting patiently, torturously, for permission to move.

You’re so overwhelmed by the sensation of being stuffed full; Satoru is much bigger than your ex-boyfriend and yet, the feeling isn’t painful. It’s so good, a throbbing ache that extends outwards from your core all the way to the top of your head and the tip of your toes. You can hardly form thoughts, let alone words, as your pussy stretches around him, trying to accommodate the sheer size of his cock.

A few more moments pass, and you feel like you’re going crazy. The feeling of being so, so full is one that you’ve never felt before, but you think you’re already addicted. Your thighs flex instinctively, closing tighter around Satoru’s waist and pushing his cock even deeper, pressing right against your sweet spot. You mewl, wrapping your arms around his neck, silently begging to be closer to him.

Satoru leans into the kiss you give him, groaning as your walls suddenly clench once around him, brain filling with nothing but white noise. “Fuck,” he grits out against your lips. “Fuck, baby, I don’t know how much longer — “

“Move.” Your command is quiet. Satoru almost wonders if he’s misheard you. But one look into your pleading, begging eyes confirms what you want. Unable to hold back any longer, he pulls his hips upwards, snapping right back into you with one long, hard thrust. You cry out, nails sinking into his shoulder blades.“M-More,” you whisper. “Need more.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

Satoru’s at a loss for words and actions as you stood on your tiptoes, reaching up and bringing his head down to kiss him. His arms instinctively wrap around your waist to steady you, craning his neck to allow you better access — oh shit, what the hell is he doing?

He lets go of you like he’s touched something on fire, pulling back from the kiss. As your heels land back on the ground with a soft thud, he’s greeted by the sight of you looking like you’re about to cry again. “Wait — “ He reaches for you, but retracts his hand; he’s not sure if he can trust himself to stay in line. His heart is beating so fast, you had just kissed him, completely out of the blue.

Satoru knew about your crush on him when the two of you were younger. You started having feelings for him when you were thirteen and he was fifteen, making it painfully obvious. You followed him and Suguru around like a lost puppy whenever he came over, despite Satoru’s constant teasing.

He thought your actions were funny at first, becoming the root of his continued teasing. Despite still making you cry all the time, you always came right back to greet him with a smile upon his very next visit. After a while, Satoru looked at you with fondness, in the way that one would gaze at a small animal. You were harmless, sweet, and so very adorable.

Satoru didn’t return your feelings at the time. You were just Suguru’s kid sister that he liked to toy with sometimes. You were awfully cute when you were mad.

But now, as you look up at him with desperation and longing, his heart clenches faintly in his chest. You’re so, so beautiful — the pictures Suguru had showed him hadn’t done you justice in the slightest. You somehow look so enchantingly gorgeous at this moment, even with tears glistening in your eyes and rolling down your cheeks.

Would you hit him if he tried to wipe away your tears?

He never gets to find out, because you speak his name softly, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Satoru leans down to carefully listen to what you have to say. “W-Want you.”

“So good, so fuckin’ good for me, princess,” Satoru groans, reveling in the dizzying heat of your pussy as he drags his cock in and out of your walls, fucking you at a steady pace. “You feel me in there? You feel me in your little cunt?”

“Y-Yes,” you manage to sob out between moans, each rough snap of his hips into you melting your brain into jelly just a little more.

“What a perfect lil pussy,” He chuckles as you squeal after a rather rough thrust, the loud squelch of your hole sucking him in echoing through the room. “No sane person in this world would ever give this up this tight wet cunt.” You whine at his filthy words, drool dripping out of the side of your mouth as Satoru continues to ram into you, faster, harder.

“Satoru!” You’re crying out his name over and over, legs wrapped firmly around his waist, pushing him deeper and deeper. “S-Satoru, I-I — “

“You likin’ this, baby? Tell me how much you like this,” he coos into your ear, hand reaching down to rub at your swollen clit.

“I l-like it s-so much, i-it’s so ahh…! I-it’s so good,” you sob out. You never thought sex could feel like this — you never understood why the people around you were so obsessed with it, especially with the treatment you received from your ex.

Now, though, as each rut of Satoru’s dick into your cunt kisses your sweet spot, you get it. You don’t know if you’ll ever be able to forget this feeling of being filled by cock so brutally sweet.

“Hold on.” Satoru had tried to protest, he really had. You’d just broken up with your boyfriend. Like Suguru said, the last thing you needed was any funny business. “Listen — “ He sighs out your name, making your bottom lip wobble. “You have to go rest, don’t be reckless.”

“Please.” You tug at his sleeve, staring at him with that puppy-eyed look that always gets you what you want. He really had spoiled you, hadn’t he?

“Not now,” he tried to reason with you. “You’re still hurting, you’re not in the right mind.” You glare at him.

“Who’re you to say m’not in the right mind?” you whine. “I…” You suddenly seem to lose your confidence, staring down at the floor. “...I only ever wanted you.”

“What?” Satoru stares, wide-eyed, at your confession.

“Know you don’t want me that way,” you continue, voice small. “But I… don’t care.” You sniffle. “Don’t care, Satoru. Just want you.”

And when you tug desperately at his shirt again, this time, Satoru is too far gone.

“Fuck, I’m close.” He growls into your neck, his pace picking up as he chases after his release, He coaxes you to join him, thumbing at your clit and cooing for you to “Let go, cum for me, c’mon. Cream all over my cock, princess.”

The only sounds in the room are a symphony of your moans and the slick sounds of his cock pushing in and out of your hole as a coil forms deep in your gut, threatening to snap at any moment. You feel tears stain your cheeks as Satoru’s pace increases, pounding into you so deep you can practically feel him in your throat.

“S-Satoru, I’m g-gonna — !” You cut yourself off with a loud, lewd moan, cunt clenching down hard around him as you come undone for the fifth time just this night. You swear you lose consciousness for a second, lost in the euphoric feeling of your release as your swollen pussy throbs in satisfaction.

“Shit..“ A few quick, shallow thrusts later, Satoru finishes as well, thick ropes of cum splurting into your womb, filling you with a warm sensation.

“A-Ah…” you whimper out, pussy fluttering weakly around his softening cock, which is still fully sheathed inside you. A white ring remains on his dick as he gently pulls himself off of you, cum dripping from your spent pussy onto the sheets. Satoru tuts, placing a pillow under your hips so you won’t leak.

You’re only faintly aware of what he’s doing as he leaves briefly and returns with a warm, wet towel, gently asking you to open your legs for him. You obey, but you’re so exhausted you can’t help it as your eyes droop shut. The last thing you remember before falling asleep is Satoru leaning forward to peck your forehead, praising you for taking him so well.

You wake up a few hours later to sunlight streaming through your bedroom window, making you squint a little as you sit up in bed. You immediately gasp at the ache between your legs, and the soreness racing up and down your body.

Memories of the previous night come flooding back as a sleepy groan sounds from next to you. Satoru stirs, awakened by your panicked sound, asking softly, “You okay, baby?”

Oh god. Shit. Fuck. You actually had sex with Gojo Satoru.

“Hmm?” He looks a little concerned at your lack of response, pulling you against him. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? You in pain? Sorry, did my best to clean you up and everything.” Only then do you realize that the place between your thighs is no longer sticky, and that you’re wearing a fresh set of underwear with Satoru’s unbuttoned shirt wrapped around you.

“...What did we do?” You whisper in a muddled mixture of shock and amazement.

“You regret it?” he asks carefully, pulling back a little to gauge your reaction. You shake your head vehemently, snuggling back close to him. You breathe in his scent, eyes fluttering closed. You feel so right at home in his arms.

“No.” You ponder for a bit. “But it’s never gonna happen again, right?” Satoru’s breath catches in his throat.

“What?”

“I know last night might’ve given you the wrong impression.” You swallow hard, trying to contain the feelings bubbling up within you. Satoru just looks so beautiful under the morning sun, his crystal blue eyes glittering in the light. You know you’re not mistaken, you’ve never been so sure about it — you love him. “I don’t… do this. Thank you for being with me for this one night, but…” you trail off.

“Hey, hey.” You’re crying again, and this time, Satoru wipes the tears off your cheek, cupping your face between his hands. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

“Don’t want just this from you,” you continue vaguely, looking away shamefully. “But I don’t… I don’t expect you to want the same.” He stills at your words, trying to decipher them properly.

“You still in love with me?” He deciphered them spot on, but that doesn’t stop a humiliated squeak from leaving you. You’re huffing, face on fire with a mixture of frustration and embarrassment.

“F-Fine, whatever! You know already, so…” You look away, gnawing at your lower lip. “That’s w-why — “

“Don’t really know why you’re so upset, princess,” he cuts you off, pulling you out of the downward spiral he sees you’re about to fall into. “Think…” Satoru pauses to swipe at a tear at the corner of your eyes. “Still such a crybaby,” he can’t help but say, watching with amusement as you scowl at him with all the ferocity of an angry kitten.

“Ugh, jerk! Four years later and you still can’t take me seriously, God, why do I even bo — “ He cuts you off again, this time with a kiss. When he pulls away, he’s smiling gently, chuckling at your dumbfounded expression.

“Think I love you too,” he finishes. “So you’ve got nothing to worry about.” A few moments pass.

“...Are you fucking with me?” You look him dead in the eye.

“Technically, I already did,” he replies cheerfully. You look at him in disbelief. “Okay, sorry, sorry, sweetheart. Let me spell it out for you.” Satoru holds you close to him, tracing slow, comforting circles along your back. “Be my girlfriend?”

You answer him with a kiss of your own.

Suguru sighs, fishing in his pocket for his house keys as he approaches the front door. He’s worried about you; although the bastard had cheated on you and deserved to have you dump him, he knows you’re still probably heartbroken.

Or at least a little heartbroken. Suguru’s aware you never really that into your ex, if your drunk phone calls about how much you miss Satoru were enough evidence. Hiding those from his best friend was tough work; he would have to sit in the bathroom or the closet with his headphones and speak as quietly and carefully as possible to not rouse any suspicion.

Either way, he knows you definitely need some cheering up right now. He’s brought you a box of cupcakes from your favorite bakery, hoping it would be enough to at least get you in a talking mood.

Imagine his surprise when he opens the door and the first thing he sees is Gojo Satoru. Not only is Gojo Satoru standing in his kitchen, but he’s wearing Suguru’s apron, a gift from you many Christmases ago. To make things worse, he’s nearly butt naked under it, only wearing a pair of boxers that are — wait a second, are those Suguru’s as well?

“Oh hey, Suguru!” If Satoru is nervous or embarrassed, he plays it off well as he turns around and waves, flashing the stupid, faded picture of Remy from Ratatouille on his apron right in Suguru’s face. “You hungry? Was just makin’ some eggs.”

“What the actual fuck,” Suguru grits out, putting two and two together as you choose that moment to wander out into the kitchen, wearing nothing but an unfamiliar collared button down that reaches down nearly to your knees. Satoru’s.

“S-Sugu.” Your eyes go round, stopping in your tracks. No one speaks for a moment. Satoru’s still happily cooking eggs. Suguru’s expression is stone cold. You’re staring at your brother with embarrassment written all over your face.

“Baby, you ready for food?” Satoru steps away from the stove to wrap an arm around your waist, smooching you on top of your head. You make a stuttered noise under your breath, glancing back at your brother.

Suguru’s smiling now, but not in the traditional sense. He looks almost maniacal as he slowly places the box of cupcakes on the table before locking eyes with Satoru. Finally, the white-haired man has enough shame for his casual grin to falter.

“What happened to no funny business?”

Satoru is forced to abandon the stove, running away from a fuming Suguru chasing after him with the first thing he could find on the dining table — a carrot.

“Sugu, stop, it’s okay — “ Your pleas fall on deaf ears as your brother is hell-bent on finding a way to murder his best friend with a vegetable. You sigh deeply, moving to go after them when you suddenly smell something burning. Your head snaps to where the eggs Satoru was cooking are now sitting blackened over the flame.

Needless to say, the first morning with Gojo Satoru as your official boyfriend was far from perfect.

Thankfully, you would have many, many more mornings with him, each more wonderful than the last, that this one quickly faded from importance.

But not from Suguru’s.

“I still remember,” Suguru says, clearing his throat for dramatic effect. “When I opened the door on that one morning, and you were not only in my house, but you were half-naked wearing my apron and my underwear — “

Satoru groans as the audience bursts into laughter at his best man’s speech, burying his face in your shoulder. You’re giggling right along with them, sparing your new husband a peck on the cheek as his best friend continues to tear him apart.

“Then you had the audacity to pretend nothing was wrong — “

Satoru knew he would never live this down, but he had zero regrets. Not when you’re sitting right next to him in a pretty white dress holding his hand under the table.

“Well.” Suguru looks over at him, raising a brow. “Got anything to say?” Satoru takes the mic from him, face splitting into a shit-eating grin as he says two words:

“Worth it.”

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo smut #jjk smut #gojo x you #reader insert #female reader #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #jjk imagines #jjk scenarios

9K notes · View notes

velvetydream · 3 months

Text

꒰ :🥀 [ Deer in headlight ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

Summary : You've been in the hotel for a while now yet one mistery you never uncovered, where that ears atop his head or hair? So you made it your mission to touch them and figure out if they are indeed ears.. and maybe a discover a matching tail to the ears?

Pairing : Alastor x Reader

Word count : 3025 Words

Genre : Fluff, Slightly suggestive near the end

Warnings ➵ Possessive and out of character Alastor

Part 2 -> < Like a deer in headlight >

a/n : I wanna pat his head and ears so badly, they look so fluffy and when they move around and are pressed to his head? I'm crying-

Also I wasn't able to find that scene as a gif so I made it myself `^` Why that scene? Bcs his ears layed back on his head look absolutely adorable!

┌───────────────────────── · · · · ♡

It's bugging you. Keeping a watching gaze on those fluffs atop a certain red-haired head, while you sat at the bar beside Angel who was in a conversation with Huskers, which you don't pay any more attention to. You were drawn in by the man sitting on the couch so carelessly while reading a newspaper.

They had to be ears right? They did move depending on his mood, even if not a lot.. But maybe it was also just his hair and not ears? If it were ears did he also have a tail? Ears and tail would make sense, seeing how he from time to time had smaller or bigger antlers atop his head, especially the big ones in his demon form.

"Are you even listening sweets?" Angels face appeared in front of your own now, twitching together a slight bit of surprise, your head turns to the two demons now and away from a certain deer demon. "Sorry.. I was spacing out a slight bit." You apologize to Angel now, Husk raising an eyebrow as he and Angel had noticed where your attention was diverted to. "Figured sweets, looked like you were eating smiles up with you eyes." Angel sends you a smirk, but you immediately start to shake your head, this wasn't what Angel was having on his mind right now. "I was wondering.. are those ears?" A gasp could be heard from Husk, Angel looking over his shoulder now to analyze Alastor's ears. The white spider was humming a bit, as he was debating whether they were ears or not, but Husker was already looking at you bewildered. "Don't even dare try anything, the last person to try and touch them was dead before they even got close." Now this was beginning to sound interesting, was Alastor this strange about it? If it was hair he wouldn't mind that much right? Well aside from the fact that he overall didn't enjoy being touched if it didn't come from his side or was allowed by him. But if they were ears.. were they sensitive? Was that why he didn't want anyone to touch them and.. did he have a matching tail? A cute little fluff of a deer tail?

Husk saw the gears in your head turning and speeding up, he grabbed both your cheeks as he turned your face to his, his eye staring into yours. "Don't you dare think about anything stupid, do you hear me?" Rolling your eyes, you pushed his hands away. Even though he was grumpy most of the time, you and Husk liked the company of one another, you two were quite good friends by now, so it made you a bit happy how he warned you and worried. But.. it was just thrilling to know, too noisy for your own good. "He won't kill me Husk, I'm his favorite!" Jumping from your seat, Husk lets out a groan, as you stride over to Alastor who is still busy reading the newspaper.

"Alastor! I got a question!" Jumping on the couch beside Alastor, you turn your body to him fully, one leg under you as your arm rests on the backside of the couch. Folding his newspaper together again, he lays it on the coffee table before looking at you. "Well of course my dear, go on ahead and ask whatever your heart desires to know!" He was talking and acting like a gentleman, giving you his full attention the second you addressed him and sat down beside him. "I was wondering for a while.. are those ears or is that your hair?" You were now pointing at his head, a smile still evident on his face, yet it somehow strained the slightest bit with irritation at your question. Huskers in the back was probably already fearing for your life. "Oh my dearest what a straightforward question, but I do fear I cannot answer you this. But do not worry your pretty little mind, maybe someday you will know." A soft pat was on your head, as the radio demon got up and made his way who knows where in quick strides.

"Oh no.. I know that face." Huskers was going crazy right now, the face you were making was one he knew oh so well, one that screamed > the game is on, I will win <. You were going to make this a game for sure, Husker was just praying the hotel would not be destroyed afterward.

The first thing now was to figure out if they really were ears, because if they were, you were so going to extant this self-proclaimed game of yours, to touching them.

"Oh Niffty my darling!" Shouting for the little psycho now, she jumps out of a room, a roach stuck on her little needle-like knife. She was a strange one no one understood, but still lovely and.. quite close to Alastor. "Niffty my dearest, you're very close to Alastor right? Do tell me, are those atop his head ears? Of course, you will get paid too for your information." Holding up a bag of alive insects and roaches, how you got them? Rather not ask, it was annoying and disgusting. Niffty was almost in an instant reaching for the bag, but you pulled it out of reach for her, reminding her what you wanted in return. "He told me how that part was sensitive and I should be careful, never told me if they were ears or not, but they have been pressed to his head a few single times when really irritated.. Now give me the bag!" Snatching the bag from you and running off with maniac-like laughter, she was crazy for sure. But did give you very useful information. Knowing the fact that he said they were sensitive, it makes you even more sure they were ears and pressed to his head when irritated? Yes, ears for sure.

Thats one check-point on your list done, now to the harder part touching them.. and figuring out if he has a tail too before he kills you for touching the ears!

Retreating to your room for now, you get out a notebook and scribble down some ideas of plans on how to touch them, but none of them seem really clever, so your notebook is quickly thrown against the wall out of frustration. A knock echoed through your room shortly after. "I heard a thump and wanted to make sure you were okay, you seem stressed.." Charlie entered your room, as you just slumped back against your pillows. Explaining to her what was bothering you, how you confirmed your theory that Alastor indeed has ears, but that you're now lost at how to be able to touch them. "You could just ask him! I'm sure a quick touch won't bother him!" Charlie was right.. If you would only take a second to touch them, just to feel them, he would agree, right? Thanking Charlie, you quickly make your way to Alastor's radio tower, this time of day he was usually busy writing his script for the following broadcast.

"Enter my dear!" His voice invited you, as he lifted his head to look at you. "What gives me the pleasure of your visit darling?" Pen still in his hand, his attention now on you though. Walking over to him, you look down at him, an unusual sight thinking of how he was normally taller than everyone and towering over them - well only exception might be Angel. "May I touch your ears? Just a second! I'll be quick!" Unnoticeable Alastor's eye twitched slightly from irritation, this topic again, you were not going to let it go, were you? "My dearest, I think I already told you to leave it, beside I never confirmed nor denied if your suspicions were correct." Head leaning on his palm now, as he was watching you, it was clear that if you were going to press on even further, he would get mad, but you didn't care. "I figured thanks to some information from someone, it won't be long! Just a soft touch! Just a second!" Now his eye twitched visibly, his hand raised and with a snap of his fingers, you were outside the door again, as you heard a click of the door being locked. Guess this didn't work.. Next plan.

Apparently, it would be harder than you thought to touch his ears. The first plan failed miserably. Currently, you are enjoying some tea with Rosie, maybe she could help you. Rosie was an old friend of Alastor, they were indeed quite close so perhaps? "Oh my dear, I have to disappoint you, our good Alastor hates getting them touched, he never let anyone near them and if, they were not able to talk about it afterward." So Rosie could also not help you, your ears peeking up now though as Rosie let out a thinking hum. "Perhaps, you could try and bribe him.. He does favor this one place in our town, it's rather expensive but, I can give in a good word for you, I do want to know how he reacts to you, his little darling touching them." Finally, some progress, though you didn't dare ask more about how Rosie had called you > his little darling < that would be for another time.

So with Rosie's help, you get his favorite meal for a good price as you make your way back to the hotel and immediately to Alastor's room. After knocking, his voice invites you in, which you gladly accept. "Oh, my dear Alastor! I got you food from your favorite place~!" In an almost sing-song voice, you announce that you got a meal for him. Now you finally saw it for the first time clearly, his ears perking up before his head turns to you with excitement. "Oh my dearest, you didn't have to!" As he was reaching out, just like before with Niffty, you pulled it out of his reach. "It wasn't cheap so.. how about as a thank you, you let me touch your ears?" The object of your current obsession now turned back, a slight scowl on Alastor's face, while still wearing his usual smile, though it was rather tight. "If that was all you wanted dearest please enjoy the meal yourself, I do not want it for those conditions." Was he for real right now? One you wouldn't eat this because.. it was in no way your preference and second you were only asking for a small touch. Rubbing them once, then you would, probably, never ask him ever again. Rolling your eyes, you push the food into his hands, you know he hasn't eaten yet, he tends to forget. "Eat it but don't think I will give up!" Storming out of his room now, his ears going back to normal, would you be behind him right now and his coat off, you would definitely see his little tail swishing from side to side.

Another failed attempt, your head now lying on Angels lap, as you both were bored in the foyer of the hotel. How could it be that no plan works? Was he despised by the idea of people touching his ears? Or maybe it hurt him? But then he wouldn't have allowed Niffty so many times to put stuff on his head and near his ears, like little self-made crowns or even flowers.

"Still no luck sweets? Maybe you should drop it, whiskers by now also absolutely going crazy worried about what your next plan will be." Angel was patting your head softly, running his fingers through your hair, your legs dangling off the side of the couch. "I really want to touch them, he just won't let me.." A small pout on your lips now, brows arched together in irritation. Over the last few days, you were breaking your head over what you could try next, but nothing really came to your mind. "Say, Angel.. your fluff is also a zone from your spidery traits, right? Would you let someone touch it?" Looking up at Angel now, he raised his eyebrows because you knew a lot of people were touching his fluff, but he figured out what you meant. "I would, because it doesn't do anything to me really, it barely tickles when someone goes too deep into it." It tickles? That was interesting, maybe Alastor's ears were also ticklish and that's why he didn't want them touched. To your surprise Angel pulled your hand to and into his fluff now, you never touched it like this. It was so soft, you bet Angel would make an amazing cuddle buddy. "See? It does nothing, but I know some others like me or smiles, who feel more on their animal traits, take whiskers for example, he wanted to cut off my hands the moment I yanked his tail once when I was drunk." You never knew that, that happened, interesting, you would definitely ask for more details of this story another time. Thinking about it now Husk would also probably not let you touch his ears or tail.

What you didn't notice was a certain demon sneaking into the hotel, watching you touch Angels fluff with stern eyes.

"Dearest!" Alastor was calling from behind you, as you made your way out of your room. "What's the matter? Do you need anything?" Alastor didn't say anything, but simply opened your door again and pushed you inside of your room, closing the door behind him. "Let's make a deal, you have to do something and in return I let you touch them." Your eyes sparking up now.. He was coming to you with a deal for touching his ears? And it wasn't for your soul?! This was probably the best day ever! "Sure whatever you want! Tell me! Now!" Your excitement couldn't be contained anymore.

"You are allowed to touch them once, in return you will never ever touch any other ones animal trait again." Huh? Your eyes blinked a few times as your brain registers his words. He asked you to never touch other's traits again? Did he mean because of you touching Angels fluff the other day? Did he see that? And why did it matter to him? Your brain was trying to puzzle together right now what this meant. "Wait.. I'm allowed to touch them once? No no no.. I'm allowed to touch them whenever I want, in return I won't touch others traits ever again." Holding your hand out with a determined expression now, Alastor's eye twitched again, but he still ended up shaking your hand, green lighting up from your hands for a second, but disappearing again after a second.

"Now.." A smirk played on your lips, as you took slow steps over to the demon, who was watching you closely. He lowered his head slightly for you to reach his head. Hands stopping an inch before his ears, fingers twitching to finally feel his ears. And finally all your advances and failed plans paid off. His ears were soft, the hair.. fur? On them soft, probably softer than his hair. They were rather warm, slightly moving against your fingers. Without thinking, you pressed a kiss against them, a gasp echoing from the demon they belonged to. Who knew all you had to do for him to agree was to slightly rile him up with jealousy?

"O-Okay! Enough!" Pulling back now, he was looking down at you again now. And what a sight he was right now. A sight you had never seen before. His face was bright red, as his ears stood tall in alert now, eyes wide and mouth despite smiling slightly agape by shock, probably of how much he actually liked it. "The deal was I could touch them whenever I wanted!" Looking at him with the best pout you could muster up now. Eye squinting a slight bit at you, before he could react, you grabbed his coat by the front, pulling him to your bed. "I will enjoy this now for as long as I want, I waited weeks and after all these failed attempts!" Fingers back on his ears now, softly running them over the fur, a cateful tug on them had the radio demon himself gasping, before biting his lip while trying to retain his signature smile. Wondering just how far you could go with this, till he might even pass out.

After hours, you finally stopped down to softly patting his hair, running your fingers through his hair. Leaning against the headboard, Alastor rested his head on your shoulder, visibly tired from you toying with his ears, now enjoying the contrast of your soft pats on his head.

"Does it feel weird? Or hurt?" Looking down at him now, you didn't even think of asking if it hurt him. Chuckling at how you're worrying for him now after hours of playing and patting his ears. "Do not worry your pretty little head love, I was so opposed to it because it's quite the opposite. It feels good, too good even sometimes." That explains his reactions a lot, his breath was rather hard when you were playing with them, and his face was crimson red at some point. If someone barged in to see him like this, they would have probably been dead by now. "Makes sense so.. do you have a matching tail?" At that his body tenses up, oh how you loved teasing him. But before you could take a peak under his coat, he was up on his feet and out of the room. This would be a fun new mission.

Angel couldn't help but cackle at the way Alastor stormed through the foyer and out of the hotel, absolutely disheveled. Husker just let out a breath when you joined them at the bar, though it stocked again when you told them of your newest plan of the radio demon and his deer tail. The radio demon probably already dreading your attempts and how he knew, he would in the end enjoy this just as much as he enjoyed you patting his ears.

#hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin #hazbin hotel #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor x you #alastor imagine #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor

6K notes · View notes

luveline · 2 months

Text

(𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞) 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

Steve hears you wrong, thinks he’s your boyfriend, and begins to act accordingly. You try your best to go along with it until you can’t anymore. 3k, fem. requested here ♡

cw shy(ish)!reader, misunderstandings, steve being a huge sweetheart, fluff, hurt/comfort, bonus fluff scene

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The arcade is loud and brisk this evening, doors thrown open to allow for the constant ebb and flow of younglings, the machine music turned up to account for so many voices. You’re lost in a sea of rainbow flashing lights and the ticklish smell of sugar. Without Steve’s hand behind your shoulder, you’re pretty sure you would’ve gotten lost and trampled half an hour ago.

A candy necklace pinwheels past your heads like a torpedo, forcing you closer together, your shoulders tight with a flinch.

“We can leave,” Steve says immediately. He’s weirdly thoughtful. Before he asked you out you had no idea he thought so much about other people, but he’s always thinking about other people. You could argue he thinks a little too much, like you.

“I wanna see Max.”

“She has to be here somewhere.”

That theory proves less and less likely. Steve’s hand falls away from you, tugging through his hair in a marker of stress as you circle the Palace Arcade for the tenth time. “Maybe she quit?” you suggest.

Steve’s eyebrows pinch together as he gives the arcade another sweep. Max’s rough patch freaked him out, as it freaked you out, because ‘rough patch’ is a kind way to describe it. She could’ve got a whole lot worse; she was suffering, capital S. It’s nice to see her returning to society, but not if she isn’t actually settling in. That’s the whole reason you’re here.

Steve frowns at you worriedly.

“Who died?” asks a new voice.

You breathe out a sigh of relief. “Max!” Steve cheers.

“That’s me,” Max says, looking at you both sceptically. Her ginger hair is pulled into two tight braids either side of her face, her cheeks flushed red. Mascara paints her usually pale lashes a darker brown, and a rosy tinted chapstick shines on her lips.

“Hey, the uniform looks good on you,” he says affectionately. “You look like a valued member of society.”

“A society in need of better labour laws. I’m pretty sure this is child abuse.” She rolls her eyes.

“Is it awful?” you ask.

“It’s fine. Better when your stupid friends aren’t here making themselves sick on candy like they’re nine years old,” she says pointedly to Steve. “Are you going to throw up too? You look–” she grimaces in place of insult.

“Who’s throwing up?” you ask.

“Dustin. He’s outside.”

Steve sighs and gives your shoulder a kind squeeze. “I’ll be right back,” he says, squaring his expression. “Goddamn kids.”

He sounds like an old man, you think to yourself with a small smile. Disgruntled, he still goes to make sure everyone’s alright. He’s nice, even when that nice is begrudging and tiresome and plain gross sometimes.

“Why are you smiling at him like that?” Max asks.

You school your impression. “Like what?”

“Like you like him.”

You shake your head. “Tell me about work, Max. What’s it like here? Are they giving you your breaks?”

She drags you over to the counter to sit in the seat waiting behind. She glares at any kid who approaches, but besides that she seems in good spirits. The job isn’t hard, it’s just a job. She’d much rather be at home reading, but wouldn’t everyone? “And I get this sweet uniform,” she says, pointing at the embroidered icon on her shirt pocket. “What’s with you and Steve?”

“Nothing,” you say, though it’s something. You’re mortified to have been caught having feelings.

“Looks like something. Are you dating?”

“I mean, this is a date,” you say, almost whispering as heat floods your face. “But we’re not together.”

“He was touching you a lot.”

“Max, he’s really nice. He’s a really nice guy,” you say gently, “and we’re not together, but if he does ask me out eventually, maybe I’ll say yes.” You realise what you’re saying and attempt to backtrack —you do like Steve, but Max doesn’t need to know that. “It’s not like he’s my boyfriend,” you say strangely.

“Ew,” Max says with a laugh.

“Not ew,” you correct. You hadn’t meant it in a bad way, it’s—

“Not ew,” Steve says from behind you, his arm a heavy weight across your shoulder.

You look wide-eyed up at his face, surprised by his huge beaming smile, an intense loveliness about him as he gives you a half hug.

“What’s ew about that?” he asks you softly.

Oh, boy, you think.

As it turns out, being Steve’s girlfriend is kind of nice, but you aren’t ready.

From that afternoon at the Palace Arcade onward, he treats you like you’re made of gold. And it’s great, he’s so kind, he brings you flowers and takes you out for breakfast, where he pays the tab without any flourishes and talks to you as casually as always. You almost hope he hasn’t got it wrong at all, and that his soft tone a few days ago had been down to a brief overwhelming fondness. You’d get that. You have your moments with him, you’re falling for him, and it’s only a matter of time before you’re desperately in love, you’re sure, but then the waitress asks if you need anything else and he says, “Just a water for my girl,” and you realise you’re not getting off easy.

Dating is sort of like being good friends; you’d planned to spend the day together anyways. You enjoy his company. It’s clear he’s eager, optioning off the day’s agenda as you return to the car, the bottom of your face hidden in your bouquet.

“We could go to the movies,” he says, opening the passenger door, his smile seemingly permanent as you climb inside. “No science fiction, I promise.”

“I kind of like sci-fi.” Petals press fragrant to your top lip.

“Well, we don’t have to go to the Hawk. We could go into the city. I bet they’re playing any movie you wanna see.” He checks that your leg is properly inside the car before he closes the door, jogging around to the driver’s side and practically throwing himself inside. He’s giggling like a kid. “Shit, I’ll see anything you want to.”

“Steve.”

“Or we can go do nothing? Until dinner.”

“Steve,” you say again, thinking you’ll tell him. Nothing good ever comes from dishonesty.

“What?” he asks.

His eyes are so brown. Billions of people with brown eyes and you swear you’ve never seen anything like it before, their centres like hot honey, the sweetheart shape to them when he smiles

You sigh. His smile is contagious, even while your stomach hurts. “Nothing. Let’s go see a movie.”

“Are you okay?”

“What?”

“What do you mean, what? You sounded weird.”

“I sounded weird?”

“No!” He winces. “I mean, yeah, you sounded weird for you, like you… I don’t know. Sorry.”

You feel bad, then. His apology is earnest, his hand resting open on the console for you to take if you could manage the flustering heat of it.

“I wanna go to the movies,” you say, ‘cos you really do.

“Alright, good. It’s just, I think my last relationship, I– I didn’t pay enough attention, and I want to do that better this time around. So yeah. Sorry.”

Oh, Steve, you think. How are you supposed to tell him now? You’re gonna have to pretend to be ready for a relationship with him until you really are, it seems. He doesn’t deserve to have his heart played with twice.

“Don’t be sorry,” you say gently. “Let’s go watch a movie, okay? I want to go, with you, we’ll watch a shitty daytime flick and then get dinner after. It’ll be fun.”

You aren’t lying to him about what you want. It’s clear to everybody, Steve and his friends and especially you, that you like him, that you want to be around him and make him laugh. Maybe being his girlfriend won’t even be that different to being his something.

After all, what’s romantic about seeing a movie?

“You good?” he asks, half an hour later, your agony prolonged.

You’re at the back of the movies where the seats have the most leg room, more popcorn and candy than you could ever eat at your feet and a litre cup stuffed into the armrest between you. Steve is tucking his shirt back into his jeans, his head parting the light of the projector and leaving a silhouette in the previews.

“Steve,” you advise, gesturing for him to lean down out of the way.

He leans down, further and further, face to face with you with his hands on his hips. A flirtatious teasing makes its way onto his lips. “What?” he asks, amused.

“You were in the way of the light.”

“That what it was?”

“Seriously!” you whisper-shout, laughing despite yourself.

“You’re so cute,” he whispers back. “Want to take your jacket off?”

Your lips part at his good suggestion. You hold your arm out and start to peel from your jacket, but he takes your sleeve and helps you out of it before folding it and sitting in the seat next to you, your jacket on his thigh. “How’s that, babe?” he asks.

“It’s good.”

“Okay, perfect.” He beams at you. He’s always smiling when he’s with you, like you’re the best thing since sliced bread. Like he loves you. “Tell me if you need something, yeah? I know you’re kinda shy.”

He settles back in his seat with your jacket still in his lap and no indication that he might want to move it. Your knees touch as he relaxes, your knuckles as he puts his arm on the rest between you, a picture of contentedness as the movie begins and the opening credits play. “That’s us,” he says without looking at you.

Two people walk down the street holding hands as the title of the movie blazes in yellow font with thick red outlines. A Day In Paradise!

You bite down on a slither of the inside of your lip until it stings. You try to fight it off but the longer you sit there, the more your eyes burn, thinking about Steve and what he deserves and how unfortunate this whole thing is, and yeah, you’re overwhelmed, too. You aren’t ready for so much sweetness all at once. You don’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve this.

You force the tears away. The movie goes on and on, the lights low, the chatter of moviegoers and the occasional popcorn crush not nearly loud enough to cover the sound of Steve’s breathing.

He pushes his hair out of his face. Somebody on screen makes a joke, his hand brushes against yours, and then takes it gently as he laughs.

You pull your hand away and tip your head down, a frantic tear flicking from your lashes.

“You okay?” he whispers.

You try to answer. You whimper instead, a terrible, sorry sound stuck to your throat —you can’t hold it in anymore. It’s too much.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble tearily, looking up, a tear rolling fast down the bump of your cheek.

Steve sits still in moderate horror. “Why are you crying?” he whispers.

The thing about Steve that people tend to forget is that, while he takes care of people the best that he can, he’s really young. He doesn’t always know what to do. He stares at you now like you’re a foreign object, hand tucked back into his abdomen.

A tear drips onto your lip. It tastes salty. “Sorry,” you say.

“Why?” he asks, dumbfounded.

“I really like you, Steve.”

He stares at you. “…But?”

“But I–” His frown hurts your heart. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this, I never– never had someone like me like this, I don’t know why I’m crying.” You say that last part to yourself rather than him, scrubbing your cheeks with your hands roughly before hiding your face completely. “It’s not you.”

“I thought…” And of course he did.

“I know,” you say. “I’m sorry, Steve. I thought it wouldn’t matter but everything’s going so fast.”

He touches your arm gently. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I thought you wanted this. You– you said I was your boyfriend, to Max? I thought you liked me.”

“I do like you,” you insist, meeting his eyes.

“Can I wipe your tears away? They’re everywhere,” he says. You struggle to read his expression, but there’s no resentment or anger there for you. He looks quite serious.

“Yeah.”

Steve bends in his seat to wipe your tears off of your face gently. They really are everywhere, on your cheeks, your top lip, your chin, even down the arc of your neck. “I don’t understand,” he says, going back to your cheek for a missed streak, “but you don’t have to be upset. Please. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do, I promise.”

“Steve, when I was talking to Max, I said,” —you wince— “that it’s not like you’re my boyfriend. She was asking me about you, and I got all panicky because I like you, but I’m too weird about this stuff, I’m panicking now–”

“Don’t.” His hand lingers on your face, before a sorry flash of dejection passes over him, and he drops your face altogether.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen. Please believe me.”

“Of course I believe you.” He grimaces at you, and the heartbreak turns to something more manageable, like he’s brushing himself off. “I’m sorry. For getting the wrong idea.”

“I like you,” you whisper. Your voice is nearly lost to the rustle of popcorn and drinks.

“I like you too!” he says loudly.

A few seats down, somebody turns, an angry whirl of hair and clicky nails. “Can you guys shut up?”

You and Steve leave your mountain of snacks behind to stand in the theatre hallway, where the winter air is cool on your flushed skin, and the silence is stifling. You lean against a wood feature wall and try to calm down, because he’s the one who should be upset (or maybe he’s not that fussed about you). He stands a half foot away with his arms crossed, looking down at his shoes, though occasionally he glances at you for a split-second and looks away again.

“You okay?” he asks tightly.

“I’m sorry.”

He pokes his cheek with his tongue. “So you don’t want to be together?”

You don’t know. He deserves the truth, even if you barely understand it yourself, and it stings to say. “I do, I like you, but I… I want to take things slowly.”

He stands there without talking for a while. When he does talk again, he’s laughing, that achy awful sadness he’d worn a far off memory. “You’re this upset because you want us to take things slow?”

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“You haven’t,” he promises. “That would never hurt my feelings. I knew when I heard it that it was too good to be true.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I guess I gotta earn the title like everybody else does. Is that… cool?”

You nod vehemently.

Steve blows a relieved breath of air up his face, his hair ruffling off of his forehead. “I thought I was gonna lose you completely,” he says, smiling. “This is fine. I can work with slow. Slow’s my middle name.”

—♡—

The sun is a blistering heat today. “Can’t believe it’s only spring,” you murmur, eyes covered by the back of your arm.

A weight sits down on the blanket beside you, the sound of dry grass crushed underfoot. He brings the fresh scent of lemon slices with him, the zest sticking to his hands.

“I think I might melt.”

“I’d never let that happen,” Steve says, laying down beside you.

“You can be my parasol.”

“Your what?”

“It’s a sun umbrella.”

“Like this?” he asks, gently laying himself across your front, his face on the slip of your stomach that’s bare, his arms sneaking behind your thighs to hug them as you bring them up.

You reach down to stroke his hair, taking your fingers through the silky lengths of it, fingernails scratching ever so slightly at his scalp. “Thanks,” you say.

He kisses your naked leg. “You’re welcome, honey.”

If he’d done that at the beginning of your relationship, you’d have frozen up; not because he would’ve done it differently, not because he wasn't always your handsome sweetheart, but because being comfortable with someone this intimately takes time, and that’s okay.

“Your face is digging into my hip,” you murmur.

He shifts back, his ear above your belly button. “Is that better?”

“That’s perfect.”

“Are you falling asleep?” he asks softly.

“No… I’m thinking.”

“Nothing good ever comes of that.”

“I have something I want to talk to you about.”

“I love talking to you,” he says. He sounds as though he might fall asleep himself, his tongue heavy in his mouth.

You stroke his hair away from his face by touch alone. Long, warm minutes pass without conversation. You aren’t scared to tell him how you’re feeling. He’s proved to you over time that he’s someone you’ll always be able to trust, and that whatever you have to say will hold weight.

“It’s a question.”

He turns in your hold to face you. You raise your arm, greeted by the image of him sun-kissed and lazing, laid out across you without a care in the world.

“Don’t tell me then,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Jesus, you’re terrifying.”

“Would you wanna be my boyfriend?”

He narrows his eyes at you. A myriad of emotions pass between you both, until he’s smiling, and you know he’s sitting up for a kiss seconds before he actually does. He presses his lips to yours carefully. “Baby,” he says as he pulls away, voice as mild as his soft kiss, “I think we’ve passed that point.”

“I realised I’d never asked you, is all.”

His hair falls down into his eyes. You tuck it behind his ear. It’s pretty clear now you’re together, even after such a bumpy start.

“Can I get it in writing this time?” he asks, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours, your eyes fluttering closed in tandem.

“Give you anything you want if you kiss me,” you murmur.

His laugh fans over your lips. He cups your cheek, your heart a hummingbird drilling at your ribs as Steve moves in to kiss you properly. Your lips part under the pressure, your head tilting a touch to one side to accommodate him as he searches down for you, melty hot pleasure and nerves that never seem to fade arising as his thumb moves up your cheek, a semi-circle of touch. It promises undulating care whenever you want it.

You tip your head aside to catch your breath.

“Better late than never,” you joke.

Steve talks into the soft skin beside your mouth. “You weren’t late, babe. I was early, and I didn’t mind waiting.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank u for reading!! pretty please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed cos it means so much to me and inspires me to write even more!!! but either way i hope u enjoyed❤️❤️❤️

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington drabble

4K notes · View notes

tarjapearce · 9 months

Text

Tentateur

Miguel O'Hara x Cheated on!fem Reader

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. SMUT at the end, bit of angst, fluff, adult situations. Cheating, divorce.

Requested here

Summary: Miguel can't stand watching you being neglected by your husband.

------

If there was something Miguel hated, was life being too generous upon those that didn't deserve it, not even the slightest. Meaning, a dickhead for a coworker and sadly, your husband.

How could such a guy like him ended up with a sweetheart like you was beyond him, The man was apathetic, little to no charm, rude and an absolute bastard.

"She's uh, my wife." He had said flatly. Your name felt like sandpaper on his tongue as it rolled out of it while introducing you to the rest at a small party at Alchemax.

Miguel had noticed the little stab of hurt crossing your angelic face. He wanted to punch him straight in the face, even some of the other couples had noticed the small tension. But you just stood there, trying to give your best smile. The golden band around your finger and the loving stare your eyes casted on your husband was a clear 'Don't even try it' for him.

But for once, Miguel didn't care.

----

He didn't exactly know how the crush on you had started. At first he thought that was just him feeling lonely and that his eyes wandered too much. But when you visited, lunch bag in hand, looking for your husband only to give him a bedazzling smile upon seeing him, and he receiving you with a tight-lipped smile, made his heart to break a little more.

"Hey" You were about to kiss him but he just backed away.

"I'm working."

"Alright, alright. See you later?"

He just gave a quick nod and put the lunchbox on his desk. There wasn't love in his goodbye kiss, Miguel noted. Once you were out, he rummaged through its contents while rolling his eyes.

He looked around and spotted Miguel with a mug on his hand.

"Hey, pal." He called and offered him.

"Want some?" Miguel seized him from head to toes but just nodded. It felt the only way that he could have a bit of you at the moment.

"Take whatever you like. Wife always goes overboard with food." Miguel took the small dessert container. It tasted divine. It only matched your own sweetness.

Lucky Bastard.

Oh he was. His eyebrows pressed together as he kept giving away all the food you had so dotingly prepared him.

----

"Can we talk about this later? You can't just keep visiting me every time you feel so"

"But you keep forgetting lunch at home, can't leave you like-"

"It's fine really, we have vending machines here." Your husband grumbled, but you couldn't help but hold the lunchbox tightly against your arms.

"I see. Sorry." You gave him a small smile, "See you later?"

"Im busy today. Might get a couple hours late. Don't wait for me."

You just nodded as Miguel jaw tensed.

How dared he?

You left.

-----

You had bumped into him at the supermarket on a weekend. Your cart was full of food, food that would end up in his hands and the rest of the team but never in your husband's mouth.

"Miguel, right?"

He nodded as he pulled some items for himself in his basket.

"Thanks for helping me." you smiled, his heart thumped harder.

"Where is..." He cleared his throat and you looked up at him.

"My husband? Oh, he said he had an extra shift today. Working in Alchemax surely is hard, I mean, I try to make it less... bad for him."

Miguel's mind was sneering, not at you but at the fake pretense of a hard working man the son of a bitch had put up with you. He knew the truth, he knew your husband only went there, did things wrong and half assed, and lately he had been flirting shamelessly with a lab technician from the upper floor.

His hatred for the man only grew, just as his admiration for you. What truly made you marry someone like him? That's the biggest question he had so far.

"I'm kind of nervous, today's our anniversary. I wanna surprise him with something" Your cheeks tinted red.

God you were killing him. He wanted to grab you gently by your shoulders, and say 'I can be better' cause of course he could, he was. You'd never have to settle for less with him.

'I appreciate you' cause he did, unlike the fool you had married. 'You'd never have to beg me' because in truth, he was already at your feet.

But you weren't his. Not yet.

-----

Sighing, Miguel put the lab test equipment away, then headed for the main office to get a couple more samples of a liquid he tried, but stopped dead in his tracks at the sight.

Legs wrapped around a man's waist, as his pants were down at his ankles. The woman shrieked once she noticed Miguel standing there with a frown and disgusted face. Miguel’s anger froze when the man next to her turned to be none but your husband.

The man recoiled to himself upon Miguel glaring holes his way.

----

His shoulder was poked by none other that the cheating pig.

"Uh, hey. Can we.... Can you, I mean-"

He stumbled on his words, Miguel towered over him, his eyes belittling him. He was bold.

"You saw nothing, yeah?"

And oh so phony. Disgusting.

Miguel just went back to his work.

It was the last straw.

-------

To his surprise you were sitting on a café, puffy and tear crusted eyes staring into nothingness, a phone on your hands. You knew.

He didn't know whether to approach you, or just leave you be. As much as he wanted you, he knew that coming at you in your most vulnerable state would not only make a bad impression oh him, but he didn't want to act like a vulture, looming over your broken heart for him to take.

He approached carefully.

"Hey"

"Miguel..."

"Are you okay?"

Your eyes avoided him.

"May I sit?"

You nodded with a hiccup and he offered you his handkerchief, fresh hot tears spilled in the soft fabric. His chest constricting at the sight.

"He cheated on me."

Much to your dismay, he knew. Of course, he wanted to tell you, but knowing how careless your husband acted, it was a matter of time for you to discover the cheating.

"I'm really sorry to hear that."

Shaking your head, you sniffed

"He has been doing this for months. Should've... saw this coming. I mean... I found so many pictures of a woman and... God"

He was pretty sure that he would punch the man next time he'd see him.

"He never came home to our anniversary, but even way before that. He just... I wasn't enough."

He frowned and took your hand softly.

"Stop. Cheating is a personal choice, guapa. You can't blame yourself for other's choices. He decided to do so, to trash away his marriage. It has nothing to do with you."

"Maybe if... I was-"

"No. You're... you're perfect. Puta madre, you're more than perfect. He's a lucky bastard just to have you. And... If I was him-"

He stopped his words and pursed his lips. You didn't need this. He'd have to be patient. You stared at him gently.

"I'll file for a divorce. He's barely coming home anyways and... that pretty much says on it's own that is over."

Miguel just nodded.

"Might celebrate it." You chuckled after wiping your tears.

"Can I ask you something?"

Again, you nodded.

"I know it's none of my business but, I'm just genuinely curious as to why you'd marry him?"

"Impulsiveness, I guess." you shrugged, your hand resting some inches away from his.

"He just proposed one day out of the blue, we had been dating for six months. Don't... don't look at me like that. I know it was stupid." you groaned.

"It's alright. You thought it was love." His hand inched closer, you nodded.

"We had our problems. A lot, actually. But... instead of speaking things like a fucking adult, he went on cheating."

"Mira, guapa... yo" He trailed off unsure of resisting any longer, his resolution to wait vanishing, "I know that this is a really bad time for you and-"

"Please... don't. Miguel I-"

"Just listen, ok? Please?" His hand finally took yours gently.

"I know this is the least of things you need right now, but... You have no idea how... how perfect you are. I always saw you visiting him, being loving, and he just threw all that away. He lost you. You're way too much for him."

Your body tensed upon sensing where this was going. Of course you weren't ignorant, you'd notice the glances he would give your way, the yearning in his eyes every time you kissed or acted like lovesick fool with your glacial husband.

" Let me show you, how would I treat you, if you were mine."

"Miguel, I don't want to-."

"Let me take you to dinner. If you don't like anything and I mean it, anything, I'll stop and leave you be. Just a dinner. Hell, you could ramble about him for hours and I'd just be happy for you to be there."

You sighed, it was a rather simple choice to say yes or no. There was nothing that actually tied you to your ex husband now. Just a very skewed moral code.

" Just a dinner. "

His heart fluttered and he nodded

"Just a dinner and I'll drop you home."

----

Miguel helped you out of his car, eyes drinking in your form. He would be lying if he said that he didn't feel jealous of the dress you were wearing, snugging all your curves in the right spots, just a tiny thing to make your own beauty to stand out even more. Gorgeous, flawless, divine and perfect.

You gasped at the location

"Are you sure this is the place? It's quite expensive."

Your concern was endearing, he offered you his arm and guided you inside.

"You're worth it, princesa."

The place seemed like being inspired from an old movie, elegant, classic and of course fancy. Never in your life your ex husband would actually treat you to places like these. His card would explode, he said once. Other places were good, but this was in a whole new level of luxury.

Miguel held the chair for you, and you sat, he followed.

"This place is gorgeous." He chuckled and took your hand to kiss your soft knuckles.

"Just like you."

----

Time flew, the night had been to your surprise one of the best things that you have experienced. You had tasted things that didn't know existed, Miguel had fed you the dessert, pampering you to no end. The wine was delicious.

As night advanced, his little touches had turned more and more risqué, his fingers would take a taste of your exposed thigh skin, your hands would brush his, fiery and small caresses that sparked a silent yet mutual fire.

Once home you couldn't get your hands out of eachother. He had to be careful to not rip your dress to bits, he needed you. The wet kisses in your neck and his wandering hands all over your heated body the proof of it. When was the last time that someone touched you like this?

Not even him, the man that oathed to love you and be with you through thick and thin. A gentle rub on your clit by expert fingers made you forget about him. Lock his memory in a vault and you'd throw the key somewhere. Your hips would buck against his hand, rolling on waves after waves of pleasure.

"He didn't touch you?" You shook your head as your mouth gaped open.

"When was-"

"Shut up." you moaned breathlessly. An I don't know nor care.

Your body responded so well too him, be the need you tried to sate with your own hands, or the loneliness that had made you so desperate that had you squirming and soaked and he was only using his hands so far. With Miguel, things felt differently. He did things differently. And different was good. So so good.

His hunger for you shown and conveyed in every caress and touch he gave you. He was gentle enough for his desire to permeate your skin. You didn't feel alone. You felt needed. Loved even. There was no turning back once you discarded all the clothes on both ends.

----

Opposite to what you believed, your heart wasn't flooding with guilt. No.

There were no longer what ifs and what not constantly echoing in your brain. There was no longer that constricting sensation in your chest you always had. No more uncertainty. You were free.

Last night Miguel, whose arms cradled your form to be snuggled in his chest and his thigh hooked on your hip, hoarding you. As if fearful you'd go away, had made you experience a whole new concept of pleasure. Your body soared in bliss, you were glowing, He had given you climax after climax, making every single one of them more shattering and intense than the other.

That's all you wanted really. Feel at ease and blissful. Miguel had given you that and more. More than you actually ever though deserving. It was just a matter of time that you'd finally take him whole.

You wanted him. His kindness, his care, his love, his grumpyness during mornings, the way he cursed in spanish whenever he'd stub his toe in the nightstand. You wanted it all.

Of course you had filed for a divorce as soon as you could, your husband was more than happy to comply. He hadn't been home for a while, Miguel even told you that he had quitted. It was as if the universe was removing him from your life ever since you started with Miguel a couple months ago.

But none of that mattered. Not when he had plopped you down to bed, hands holding a firm grip in your sweaty and smooth skin, hips straddling yours and plowing into you from behind, prone bone position. His hips buried himself deep, hitting that spot over and over. He wasn't gentle, but that's just exactly how you liked it.

Before you could actually reach the stars he flipped you over, your thighs resting ontop of his. He sheathed once more inside. Your phone buzzed.

You growled in annoyance, Miguel sighed. A number you knew all too well. Finally you'd get the news you so needed to hear.

"Y-Yeah?" Miguel smirked as he held your thighs together and pushed in further, his tip kissing your cervix so deliciously you had to bite your lip to suppress a moan. The little baby bump in your abdomen barely noticeable.

"Shit's done. Papers are signed."

There was a bit of rustling and the clinking of glass. By his tone, you knew he was getting drunk, celebrating. Miguel took the phone and put it on speaker.

"Ya know? I'm glad I did. Couldn't stand you, nagging all the time. But I'm a free man now, baby." His gulping, something you secretly hated, could be heard on the other line.

Miguel frowned and spreaded your legs once more.

"You there?" Your ex chuckled, "It's okay if you're crying, won't judge"

So so annoying.

A smirk appeared on your face as Miguel focused the camera on your body. He then turned the video call on. The man's face instantly fell upon watching you bouncing on a cock that surely put his to shame. Spine arching, breast jiggling and mouth spewing the lewdest of moans and needy whimpers he hsd ever heard from you. One tan hand secured you in place, preventing you from squirming too much.

"Sorry, pal." He grunted as he started to ram his hips in abandonment, making your toes curl. Your face and body said it all. The video image shaking at his thrust

"Just like that, bonita?" You choked a sob as he went balls in deep, nodding and begging him for him to not stop.

"She's busy." He hung up the call before the man could say anything and tossed your phone somewhere in the bed.

You felt so good, perfect for him, And now you were all his.

------

tag list: @primroselovessupernatural

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman 2099 smut #t writes✨

8K notes · View notes

slttygeto · 7 months

Text

“my love, all mine.” — GOJO. S

c.w: tooth rotting fluff, established relationship, fem! reader, i love gojo.

satoru loves to love. it’s not that hard to see that the man is a lover boy through and through, but sometimes you see his eyes shine at the sight of one of his students, a puppy on the streets, a kid picking a flower for their mom, or when he locks eyes with you in the bathroom mirror first thing in the morning and the way his lips tilt upwards has you holding a hand up to your chest when he looks away, because god he was so cute.

so you ask him how it feels to love, you sit him down on the couch and tell him you want to try this new homemade face mask on him and he agrees without a second thought. he watches as you sit between his legs on the couch, a little uncomfortable but you don’t care, nor mind. you are so close to satoru’s pretty face.

“you love to love,” you point it out and dab the brush on his cheek before planting a gentle kiss to his lips. “why is that?”

“why do I love to love?” he asks with a chuckle and his hands rest on your ass with pure intentions. the man was super affectionate, and you learned the difference between him initiating something and simply being his cuddly self.

“mhm, it’s cute. but i feel like there’s more to it.” you point out and gojo has to hold himself back from calling you so adorable.

“because my love is mine. it belongs to me,” he starts and a hand brushes a single hair strand that fell on your race. “I get to feel it and give it to people that mean so much to me, but I love seeing it on other people.” his thumb brushes your cheek affectionately and his heart jumps when he feels you smile snd the muscles in your face move at the same time.

“see? that just made my heart jump.”

“you’re too much.” you try to fight back the blush creeping upwards but gojo has other plans as his hands cup your cheeks with two big hands before planting a deep kiss to your lips.

“mine.” he says and presses another kiss to your lips. “all mine, you are my love. you make loving so worth it.” you can’t even fight him on it, your hands weakly grabbing onto his wrists before asking him to let you breathe.

“too much love for today?” he pouts and you giggle.

“there’s never enough love, but I do need to breathe if you wanna keep loving me.”

gojo satoru was many things to other people. a teacher, a mentor, a father figure, a best friend and a lover. but to you, he was love.

2023 ; all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

#moon's works #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #jjk gojo satoru #gojo fluff #jujutsu gojo #gojo satoru headcanons #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader

6K notes · View notes

cosmosis · 11 months

Text

MOVED TO @seratopia

miguel o’hara x reader (fluff) - call

miguel calls you because he misses you

. . .

“Lyla.“

“Yah?“

“Call y/n.“

“What do we say?“

“Oh my god, just call her. Please.“

“You’re in your office, call her yourself.“

“Lyla!“

Lyla scoffs, flickering in and out in a flash of cream and pink. Miguel rolls his eyes, watching as a module is pulled up in front of him.

Lyla flickers in, pressing the obnoxiously green “call” button on the screen as Miguel subconsciously fixes his hair. The screen starts to dial, and Lyla chuckles to herself.

“What?“ Miguel asks, crossing his arms together.

Lyla’s hand runs up to her mouth. “Pfft. Nothing.“

And with that, she disappears.

The screen dials for a few more seconds, and finally, you answer the call. A video calling of you, looking down at at the camera on your watch. You’ve got your spider suit on, chaos seeming to be crashing in the background as you zip through a metropolitan city with your webbing.

“Miguel, baby, you know I’m busy.“ You say, the man watching on his screen as you simultaneously glace down the watch and look back up to swing your webbing against random architecture.

“I know. Sorry.“ He says, and you look expectantly down at your watch.

“Did you need something?” You ask, and your watch suddenly drifts over towards behind you, an anomaly chasing behind you.

“How long will it take for you to be back?“ He asks, hand slithering to the back of his neck. Even from the shitty camera quality, you can see the slightest tinge of blush on his cheek.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, sighing to yourself as you bustle through skyscrapers and towers galore. “Is this really was this was about?“

“Yeah, I wanna see you.“ He states. You watch as he starts tapping on the holographic screen, seemingly zooming in on a particular picture.

You watch as Miguel already goes to grab his spider mask, clutching it in his hand while he taps at his own watch. “Where are you, honey? I can take them off your hands.“

“It’s fine, Miguel. I got it.“

“But I wanna see you.“

“You can wait a little longer, right? Jessica sent me out on this mission.“

“No. I’m going out there, where are you?“

You sigh. “Fine, I’m at Earth-681, Queens.”

“See you in a sec, hun. Love you, bye.“

“Love you. Bet I can finish this guy off before you can even make it down here-“

You hang up, and the call screen flickers dark. Miguel yanks on his spider mask, leaping off his office until...

“Wow.“

Lyla sputters in front of Miguel, laughing to herself in a doubled over position. She flashes in a few more times, each one a different frame of her laughing. Miguel tries to ignore her, speeding up into a run whilst tapping at his watch.

“You’re really that whipped!“ She exclaims.

“What does whipped even mean?“ Miguel asks, obviously annoyed.

“You’ll find out later.“

“Hm.“

“Oh and, just so you know. That entire convo was recorded. Thanks!“

Miguel groans, and Lyla vanishes as soon as she came in.

. . .

Miguel dives headfirst into the inter-dimensional juncture, leaping directly into the skies of Earth-681. There’s millions of skyscrapers below, all of them almost identical to any other Earth he’s been on.

He webs a nearby building, slinging himself through Queens in search of you. His spidey-sense picks up, detecting you to be in his far right. Faster than ever, he slingshots himself through buildings, his heart quickening in his chest at the thought of seeing you.

Unexpectedly, you aren’t where you’re supposed to be.

Miguel pauses himself onto the head of a gargoyle, eyes flickering left and right to try and find you. You’re supposed to be hugging him, kissing him, teasing him about dates and what not.

“Boo.“

Miguel doesn’t even flinch, but he’s more excited than ever to see you. He misses you so much.

You laugh to yourself, taking a few steps forward to Miguel. He rolls his eyes, and you can even see it through his mask.

“Haha, very funny.“

“I know, I’m the funniest.“

“C’mere.“

Miguel wastes no time, hastily tugging you into him by your waist, until you’re close enough to hear his heartbeat. You tug your mask off, revealing the face that Miguel knows and loves.

Tenderly, the man presses you into a kiss, savoring the taste of your lips for a moment longer than he should’ve. You can feel the poke of his fangs on your bottom lip, and you yelp a little in his mouth.

“Ah, I’m sorry.“

“It’s fine-“

And he a presses a few more gingerly kisses to your cheek, stroking your other with his thumb. His big hand lingers on your lower back, threatening to ghost his fingers against your behind.

“See, told you I’d finish him off before you’d come.“ You say, indulgently resting your chin on his chest.

“Can’t believe Jess sent you out here, on your break day too.“ Miguel scowls, “Wanted to take you somewhere special.“

“Welp, now I’m free.“ You shrug, and Miguel leans the both of you against the concrete walls of the tower.

Something sparks in Miguel’s mind.

“Hun, what does whipped mean?“

“Whipped?“

“Mhm. Lyla mentioned it earlier.“

You chuckle a little.

“It’s what you are, Miguel.“

“And what, exactly, is that?“

“Absolutely in love with me. Like you’ll do anything, k’know?“

Miguel grumbles to himself, releasing you from his embrace.

“I hate that she’s right.“

miguel gets jealous oneshot (same universe)

#miguel o'hara #spiderman #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #atsv x reader #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse x reader #x reader #reader insert #fluff #lyla #atsv lyla #lyla across the spiderverse #cosmosis-writes ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

14K notes · View notes

moechies · 8 days

Text

asking the jjk boys to hold your hand ꒱₊˚⊹ nsfw

trying something different , more head cannon-like because i find i’m more motivated to write smaller pieces . . am cooking in my drafts rn . please bare with me !

♡｡ﾟ｡

gojo satoru ꒱

sooo much teasing . makes you ask for his hand over and over , until you admit his cock is just too much, and too deep, and you need something to wrap your hand around. he’s so cocky, but will definitely give it to you. presses gentle kisses on your knuckles when his huge hand envelops yours, and holds it down below, into the fluff of your sheets.

“ha— hand, please, satoru—“

“what’s that sweet girl ? w’na hold my hand ?”

“yes ! p-please !”

“why, what’s wrong?” he simpers, gentle fingers pushing your stray hairs away.

you huff, inpatient now. “j-jus’ wanna feel you, satoru.! please!”

“aww , sweet girl. course i’ll hold my baby’s hand.”

getou suguru ꒱

so tender with his baby. will give in the second you ask for it, he actually wanted it first. but in the mist of your perfect cunny gripping him so well , he forgot to :( once he gets ahold of your hand he brings it down to your tummy, and glides your fingers where his cock bulges. grins and presses soft kisses all over you when you’re unable to answer his dirty questions , but his pretty baby will always answer if she knows what’s good for her. <3

“feel my cock here, honey?” a sly grin spreads across his face when you’re only capable of replying with a wanton moan, slowing his thrusts.

“w-wait , no..! i— feel it , please, want more s-sugu!”

it’s so dirty , and suguru loves it.

“yeah ? askin’ f’me to hold your hand so sweetly but you’re being so filthy little girl ..”

“m s-sorry.! ju— love it .. love it s’ much.!”

“know you do princess. be good now, lay still.”

toji fushiguro ꒱

thinks it’s funny at first, but really he wanted it just as much as you do. you cannot tell me otherwise , toji is such a lover. really , he’s sort of shocked that you asked for something so intimate, so small, only realizing that he hadn’t been holding your hand in the first place. teases you only sometimes, because he wants to feel you just as bad as you do. such a sweet man ♡

you reach down, intertwining your fingers into his bigger ones; a light squeeze to your hand when he understands your intention;

“hmm, what’s this princess?” he gloats ,

“wan’ hold your h-hand, toji . m-missed you s’much t-today.” you admit, followed with a sweet moan.

“s’cute.” he chuckles, pressing a kiss on the back of your hand before continuing with his heavy thrusts.

“missed you too princess. missed your perfect face ‘nd sweet cunt . s-shittt.. love you darling .”

sukuna ryomen ꒱

isn’t doing it unless you ask for it. will be like ??? because he’s like , you hold hands during sex too ? and you’re like ??? you’ve never done that before? so clueless but a bit flustered , really tries to act like he hates it but really, he think he likes it; he likes when you hold his hand. only never done it because he’s only been with concubines before you, and would never think of doing something so intimate himself.

“what’re you doin’ brat?”

“i just— w’na hold your hand ryo..”

“during sex ?”

“ do you think that’s w-weird ?”

he scoffs, not wanting to admit that he liked it. his hand slithers above yours, thumb pressing into the apple of your palm.

nanamin kento ꒱

already holding your hand . ♡

2K notes · View notes

kneelingshadowsalome · 5 months

Note

i love your writings so much! i need you to write about könig with maid!reader like i need air and water. könig who needs someone to take care of his house while he‘s gone, returning from his deployment only to find reader huddled up in a soft blanket on the couch, the house smelling of freshly baked cinnamon bread and lavender while she sleeps peacefully. he‘s so touch starved and the domesticity makes his heart and cock stir, he‘s never had any woman cook for him since his Oma passed away. poor reader is oblivious to her boss‘s infatuation until she‘s not, he‘s so awkward around her she thinks he just doesn‘t wanna be disturbed, but she doesn‘t know he uses her conditioner to stroke his cock every night, and now he can‘t help but get a raging boner everytime she passes by and he smells her hair :((((

Banner picture credit: @661ave

possession

noun

the state of having, owning, or controlling something.

Word count: 7 k Tags/warnings: 18+ only DARK FIC. Perv!König masturbating to thoughts of you + your stolen panties. Jealous & possessive behaviour. Dubious consent to having unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus, size kink, breeding kink, implied age difference. Some fluff if you squint. A/N: First of all, I'm sorry if you expected something sweet & fluffy anon… This thing just came out of me. Also, @gremlingottoosilly wrote the best thing EVER for this trope so please if you haven’t read it yet go give it a read (dark content there too though so be warned!)

He’s good at repairing things. He prides himself in that.

And he keeps his house neat and clean: that’s not a problem. His papers are in order, his office is in order. His home is in order too, and so is his whole life – love life included because there is none.

He always ensured he’s not dependent on anyone, he never seeked a mother from a partner. Just for self-reliance's sake, he knows how to do his own laundry and meal prep for weeks. He learned to fold his t-shirts with an orderliness fit for the military when he was ten years old, just so that no one would have the chance to say he needed a wife.

He always vacuums the entire house before deployment, does the dishes, takes out the trash. And he doesn’t hate house chores… but he doesn’t like them either. His house is a sad, lifeless, gloomy place to spend time in. It’s big enough for a family, it has everything he needs to host a night for friends, but he doesn’t have any.

Family, or friends, that is.

When he hears that his co-worker – the one with a frigid wife and five unruly kids – hired a maid to do the cleaning in the house, he pauses to think. He doesn’t have a chaos in his home, but he’s got enough money to make life a tad easier. Besides, it’s only expected of a man of his position to hire an assistant of some sort, is it not?

It’s just that he didn’t expect housemaids to be this… cute.

There are quite a few applications, and he’s a sick bastard for choosing the maid solely based on the picture attached to the CV. He told himself it was also because it looked like this lady needed the money the most. He's a generous man, so why not help a woman in need?

Another thing he didn’t expect is how his house would start to smell so nice and look so cozy. It’s the small details, the tiny little things that make his chest burn. The way she uses softener on his shirts and folds not only his shirts but his boxers, too, or places a scented candle on the table when the weather turns cold. It’s clearly for his delight because it’s not one of those overly sweet apple or caramel things but something fresh, maybe spruce or fir.

She even bakes for him on the days when he comes back. The fact that a beautiful young woman bakes for him stirs something unwanted and long-forgotten in his chest. The sweet scent of home baked buns makes his cock stir, too. His place has never seen a woman’s touch, no one has ever baked anything here…

And he certainly doesn’t expect to find his maid sleeping on his sofa when he arrives home one evening.

She stirs immediately, and apologizes profusely for making herself at home like this. She starts to stutter and explain how she’s had a busy week and difficulty with sleeping, how she simply dozed off while waiting for the rolls to bake in the oven.

He stops her in the middle of her flustered excuses: she can take a nap here any time, it’s not like the furniture is going to wear and tear from use anytime soon. He’s barely even home, so it’s good that someone enjoys the sofa, right? She can use his bed too if she wants. More convenient that way, ja?

He realizes he went a little too far when she looks at him like he just offered to fuck her on the kitchen table. Which he has thought about, to be honest, for a good long while now. In fact, he’s thought about it ever since she started in this position a month ago.

It's her fault for being so unsuspecting and lovely, and she's playing with fire when she takes more dangerous liberties by showering at his house. He finds a women’s conditioner bottle in the bathroom and once, he even catches her doing her laundry here too. There’s a pair of women’s underwear in the pile of clothes she politely informs he’d have to fold himself this time because she’s in a hurry to catch her bus.

He’s far more intrigued by the innocent, blush pink strings greeting him from amidst his black and dark green clothes than by the fact that his maid is breaking the rules. Other employers would give her a warning or simply say she no longer has to come and work here ever again. Showering at his place, washing her clothes in his washing machine and taking a nap on his sofa border on violating the terms of their agreement, but he couldn’t care less. He would carve a hole in his chest if that would make her happy.

When he finds out she’s busy because she has to work two jobs, he raises her pay, despite the fact that she’s sometimes late and at times, leaves a little too early. She does her job well enough, so there’s no reason to complain. He would simply like it if they saw each other more... Which is ridiculous, he knows, because the point of having a maid is that she cleans his house when he’s away.

It just feels so nice to arrive home now that she's here. He’s never looked forward to getting back to his bleak modern mansion, but now he’s pining for his leaves like a young recruit who's got a girl waiting for him back home.

Even if she’s not there when he gets back, he can savour her lingering scent. He sniffs the dark woolen spread she might’ve slept under just moments ago, he eats whatever freshly baked goodies she has made for him. He sleeps with her underwear tucked under his pillow, and reaches for them before sleep. Or then he grabs them in the morning when he wakes up, already hard.

It’s nice to have an unhurried fap at home than to relieve his needs in some small grey room of a boring military base. It's far more enjoyable to stroke his cock with her tiny, cute underwear spread over his face. Sometimes he wraps it around his cock and jerks himself off to a quick, groan-filled release, adoring the way his cum stains her blushing strings.

His showers last for about 15 minutes nowadays.

It’s unheard of for a soldier, and he read somewhere that lonely and depressed people take longer showers because the warm water is supposed to make up for the lack of human touch and intimacy, and that may very well be true… But he also wants to take his sweet time stroking himself while using her conditioner as lube.

Coconut or peach, vanilla or argan oil, he lathers it all over his cock and imagines her hot, wet pussy. His hand is too calloused to give him any illusions of softness, but the mind-numbingly sweet scent takes him immediately back to her. Her eyes, her soft smile. The dreamy sway of her hips, the elegance of her wrists as she moves some item out of the way to sweep or scrub or clean a surface.

He faps with slick urgency, wondering if her eyes would go wide if she saw his cock. He wonders if she’s noisy in bed – is she a screamer, or a moaner? Would she claw at his back or simply cling to him if he fucked her?

And god, how he would fuck her…

Slowly at first, draw moans out of that soft mouth until she begs him to fuck her hard. He would drag her shirt up and her bra down until her breasts are exposed, then watch how they bounce as he starts to fuck her with purpose. She begins to tighten around him, looking so fucking desperate as her cunt starts to throb and pull him in. The first moan of surrender is needy and tight when she cums around his shaft…

He never gets any further than that because his cock spills with a violent jerk. He cums, long and hard across the tiles. Loads and loads of hot seed go to waste as he groans loudly, not giving a shit about making so much noise. Feeling hollow and deprived for not being able to shoot his cum inside her and then stay there, snug and safe and warm inside her cunt, he allows himself just one single sob.

He just wants to know how it would feel to cover her whole body with his as he slowly pumps the last drops into her. Sigh afterwards, breathe together, hold her close... Search for her eyes, check if she's in rapture too. Watch her come down from it while still squeezing him down there. Perhaps she’d give him a pleased giggle and a cute, weary smile.

"Scheisse–"

He leans on the wall, knowing that he's lonely, filthy, sick and obsessed. He lives in a dream world, and the thick conditioner takes ages to wash off. The withdrawal phase is worse every time he indulges in his dark fantasies and then has to live without her for weeks and weeks.

She's just his maid, a hired employee. She’s just an innocent woman with her whole future ahead of her.

He's just a colonel at a notorious private military company… He's just an old, horny, depraved soldier. Calloused, fucked up, depressed. Girls like her don't want anything to do with a man like him.

…

She asks if he wants his house decorated for Christmas.

She asks it with bright eyes and such a lovely smile that he tells her he doesn't own such junk, but he can pay her if she goes to choose him some and then comes back to decorate his place. Their unusual agreement gets more unusual still as she nods with shining eyes, then goes to the city to choose his Christmas decorations for him. He even lets her use his car, which is unheard of.

Soon, his windows are filled with lights and there are mistletoes hanging from the ceiling. She puts fancy little elves in the window, places Christmas flowers and candles everywhere she possibly can. He walks around the house with a coffee mug in his hand, suddenly awkward and shy when watching his maid put up the most sophisticated, elegant and adorable Christmas decorations he has ever had or seen.

Is this what a home should look like…? Warm, and light, and pretty, filled with cozy, useless things?

But it's not the items she got him that make a home, no. Home now equals rich, home-cooked meals, or the mouthwatering scent of cinnamon rolls greeting him at the door. Home is a cute girl, returning his obsessive stare with a small smile and telling him to stay safe before he leaves to kill people. Home is a woman who's the perfect wife material, so fuckable and sweet, who's fussing over the fact that he doesn't even have a Christmas tree.

He gets it before her next visit – meaning, her next shift – and decorates it himself. It looks clumsy and uneven and a bit sparse, but she compliments him on it when she arrives. The looks she gives him are so warm and playful that he starts to have some hope – hell, a full surge of it – and he also starts to miss his hood. He's feeling awkward as it is around her, he doesn't need to be blushing in front of his suddenly flirtatious maid... Men don’t fucking blush when a woman flirts with them; they fuck them until their knees give in.

With no small amount of hidden guilt, he finally confronts her with her underwear, telling her she forgot something and that he found these in his laundry pile. Taking sick satisfaction from seeing how she's the one who's flustered now, he forgives her for washing laundry in his place. He's a merciful man, after all.

There's still some cum on the lace as he returns her possession to her, and he hopes he's just imagining the shock in her eyes when she takes them back. It's his way of saying that he likes her a lot, but the flirting ends immediately, the playful smiles stop, and he knows he fucked up big time. The warm, lively woman is gone, she suddenly resembles an ice sculpture who's about to flee his apartment at any given moment, and he could hit himself in the head with a big metal bat.

What the fuck was he even thinking? That a woman would appreciate it if he returned her panties covered in old, dried cum?

He's a fucked up pervert, and he has lived in a dream world, and now reality awaits.

He shuts down and shuts up after that, keeps the connection pure, pristine and professional. She's just here to do her job.

The holidays approach, and he's sulking, knowing that he won't see her again in at least six weeks. He'll have to make do without a maid, and he'll have to numb his whole soul to get through yet another lonely Christmas.

Well, not lonely: this time he spends it with the decorations she got him. They can keep him company during the lonely masturbation sessions. They can watch him live on takeout food and remind him what a horny, sad loser he is.

So his last attempt, his last minor sin is that he gets her a Christmas present. She's about to leave, hurrying to some place where she's loved and cherished, or then about to get fucked because she has her hair and make-up done. The jealousy creeps up his spine like a viper as he watches her get all dolled up.

She's so very grateful to him for allowing her to get ready here and use his bathroom, and he plays the generous, kind gentleman while gritting his teeth, trying to ignore another demanding erection telling him to dick her down and make her stay down. Make her bake for him and sit on his knee as he squeezes her tits and watches her stare turn dumb. Tell her to douse the lights and light the candles, tell her to undress in front of that stupid Christmas tree, order her to lie down on the mat and spread her pretty legs for him…

She's standing at the door, a cute girl turned into a seductive goddess, while he's about to enter into another lonely brain fog. She grabs her coat and grants him one of those warmer smiles as he walks to her with an envelope in hand.

"I got you something... Merry Christmas."

"Aw… You shouldn't have…"

She accepts his gift delicately with both hands, clearly surprised and pleased. When she opens the gift, she laughs and then covers her mouth with her hand. It's a gift card to Victoria's Secret, and with a relatively large sum on it, too.

"Oh god... Ahah, okay. I like your humour," she laughs again, then gives him a wink and an exceptionally gorgeous smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

He's fully aware that he sounds like an ominous, threatening robot. His voice has an effect on women; most flee, some get curious. She's one of the few who don't know what's good for them at all.

He never had a gift with females, and even with his position, experience and age, he still feels like he’s trying to court a breathtaking alien species whose native language he can’t quite understand or speak. The silence stretches on, and her smile slowly fades, making him perfectly aware of the fact that he should say or do something assertive, something charming, instead of just standing here, looming over her. When the playful stare then turns into a helpless, pitying one, the kind his mother used to wear when she discovered he had been bullied again at school, his hands start to go numb.

Jerk off and kill, those are the only things he ever was good for…

"Mm... I'm afraid I have nothing for you," she says apologetically.

Ach so… She’s ashamed for not getting him a present.

Well, shit. Fuck.

"Don't worry about it."

"No, I mean… I thought about it. You're the kindest employer I've ever had. I really appreciate it... and I love working for you."

"That’s nice to hear."

"I just didn't know what to get you. I don't know what you like."

He's trying to ignore the pull of his chest, the sick burning in his loins. His cock is stirring just from the way she's looking at him. Inviting, adoring, waiting.

"You already got me Christmas decorations."

"Yeah, but… You paid for them."

"Aber... You baked for me. No one's ever–"

He shuts his mouth before making a complete fool of himself.

"Well, I'm glad you liked my buns," she laughs, then bites her lip, realizing what she just said could be taken in many ways.

"I truly did."

She guides her stare to the floor and smiles, and the electricity between them… it just can't be only a fabric of his imagination.

"Take care of yourself. Ok?" He says, then swallows a lump in his throat, but it never quite goes down. She’s still waiting for something; the tension between them is petrifying.

"I will," she says, her voice a bit frail, and far too sweet. "You too. Take care."

She gives her last smile to him; it’s sad and somewhat disappointed as she turns around and reaches for the door.

"Wait," he calls, purely from the hard instinct that tells him to fucking do something about this heavy, sickening tension. She immediately turns with hope in her eyes.

"Yes?"

"I… Ah, glückliches neues Jahr."

"...What does that mean?"

"It means 'Happy New Year'."

"Oh," she laughs, "I thought it was something naughty…"

Shit.

Shit…

"Ich möchte deine Muschi lecken."

She freezes with her hand still on the doorknob. That fucking sentence was so dark it left little or nothing to the imagination... It was thick enough to make it clear that he’s not a kind, generous employer, nor is he a gentleman.

"What's that?" She asks, her pretty voice barely a whisper.

"Something naughty."

Her hand lets go, it falls to the side. She even tilts her head before her voice turns thick and suggestive too.

"Really…?"

"Yes."

"Well don't be shy. Tell me what it means."

Playful, naughty, dirty.

She wants to fuck. She wants to fuck.

Is this a filthy dream or is this really happening?

"I want to lick your pussy."

There's an intake of air, just a soft gasp. Batting of long, dark lashes, just before the stars in her eyes start to shine in full.

"Oh," she breathes. "Is that so?"

"Ja."

It wouldn't be the first time someone offers him cunt just out of spontaneous pity. It wouldn’t be the first time he accepts it. A man like him takes whatever he can get.

Pity is apparently what's happening now, because his maid starts to undress.

With a victorious shine in her eyes, she drops her coat to the floor, then unbuttons her jeans. Takes away her shirt and bra with shaky hands while maintaining that seductive, downright filthy eye contact. More and more of her skin is exposed as she quickly strips in front of him, finally slipping out of her black, see-through underwear while he's trying not to shake from dark urges and lust.

When she's naked, flush and bare, her fingers start to slide up her thigh. The other hand is pressed against her side as if shy. She’s either offering him a Christmas present in the most elegant way, or then she’s concerned about getting licked and fucked sore. It's like throwing a dog a meaty bone and then putting the hound in a loose chain, just an inch away from the mouthwatering sight and scent. She steals one look at his erection, currently trying to rip its way through his pants. The gross tent is pointed at her, and she knows it: she knows she has him on a leash, but only barely.

"Go ahead then," she whispers.

He falls straight to his knees, and presses his whole face against her softly trimmed hair. When he opens his mouth, she shudders, clearly not ready for someone this starved trying to devour her whole.

She doesn't know she's about to sleep with the devil… If she knew, she would be out the door by now.

It's too late now: he engulfs her, locks her in place by wrapping his arms around her hips.

Mein.

Mein…

He could rub his face in her sweet cunt forever, but that won't do: she said he could lick her, so that’s what he’s going to do. After a few bites and nibs, after inhaling the sweet scent of her and squeezing her long and hard in his embrace, he finally rises and carries her to his den. There’s only loneliness there in his bedroom, just stale sweat and old musk staining the sheets, but she softens on the linens when he goes down on her.

Her pussy is already throbbing and wet when he gives her the first, fat lick. Next up, soft little laps to make her thighs drift apart. Some long, teasing circles on her clit, and she starts to sigh - he’s not an expert, but he knows she won’t find a more enthusiastic cunt licker in this city. Or this whole country… Perhaps the entire world.

And she's not a screamer, she’s a moaner. She also whimpers a lot. He switches between giving fast attention to her clit, then slow tongue fucking to her hole. The scent of pussy fills his room: they only talk to each other through moans and whines and groans. He breathes into her like a panting dog: she whimpers under torture like she actually likes it, and likes him. Like she actually prefers his bed to any other place in this world.

He fucks her with his mouth, sloppy and hungry; he could french kiss her pussy forever like this. He could spend every evening licking her to ruin.

"Just like that… Just like that… Don't stop…"

He's as hard as can be; he's about to lose his fucking mind. If she doesn't cum soon, he might just die from having to listen to those unhinged cries.

To help her out – because he's a generous, generous man – he slips a finger inside, earning another spill of filthy moans.

"Oh god ohgod oh fuck–!"

She sounds dumb and helpless as he eats her out like she’s his last meal. His chin is drenched and his cock is hard as the poor girl leaks all over her ass and on his bedding. He adds another finger, starts to fuck her slow and steady. She's more than prepared for his cock, and when he starts to do the alphabet on her clit, she whimpers, whines, and finally, screams.

The feel-good hormones flood his brain when she cums. He kisses her through it and slows down the torture gradually, gives her some space to pulse and throb and leak against his chin.

Women need a lot of stimulation; that’s what he has learned. It’s a marathon, not a sprint, and he doesn’t want to ruin the explosion by overriding her senses. When he rises from a job well done, he sees how some of her makeup is ruined.

Yeah. Fuck... A screamer, a moaner, and a crier.

And he's only about to fuck her…

"Das war gut. Good pussy," he mutters and licks his lips, high above his pretty little prize.

"Oh–oh god…"

Poor thing is so flushed, desperate and helpless; she jerks as he taps her clit with his cock, whines when he forces the fat, leaking tip into her folds.

"Wait–"

"I will fuck you now."

"Sir… Please, could we use a condom? Please…"

She's still calling him sir like she's at work. Like he's her superior, or worse yet, an officer, a colonel she's not supposed to flirt with, let alone spread her weak little legs for.

"Hm. I don't have any."

"I do," she's panting heavy on the bed, clearly reluctant to get away from his cock, too weak to get up after his thigh-shaking treatment. It would give him a year’s worth of confidence to witness her in this state, if she would only let him finish the job. Right here, right now. Dip it in raw and blow a load inside that sweet, aching cunt. She might just end up with his child...

But the moment is ruined: he hates condoms, and he hates it that she has them with her. Jealousy starts to eat his mind like there's a can of worms poured inside his brain.

Who does she carry condoms for? Does she get fucked often...?

How many does she have, one, two, three? A whole pack?

She rises to get the darned piece of plastic, and the thick thunder in his head is making him seriously consider locking her up and throwing away the key. Women shouldn't be running around like that, hungry and desperate for a dick. She should stay at home, his home, and go crazy when he returns from war. The rage is the only thing keeping his cock from growing soft.

"It's too small," he laments when the condom is finally in place but barely reaches the base of his shaft. It's going to roll off if he fucks her like he intended to… Good, long, deep and hard.

She bites her lip as she stares at the sad little wrapping trying to render his cock harmless. Surely she can see how stupid and useless this is… Either he gets her a morning after pill tomorrow or then he pulls out, but the condom has to fucking go.

"It's… okay," she swallows. "It's okay. Let's just… If you're clean?"

"I am."

He doesn't tell her he hasn't had a woman in months. Almost over a year.

And he’s clean; he keeps everything…in ordnung.

He rolls the cursed plastic off, and his cock immediately bounces back up: hard, demanding and ready. He throws the condom away, just somewhere, anywhere, as long as it's out of his sight. Wasting no time, he's back at her cunt, and bullies himself in.

"Ah ja… Das ist schön… Sehr schön."

Nothing compares to the feel of a real cunt, hugging him tight. And fuck… He can actually fit fully inside her. He fits like a glove.

"Oh ja. Das ist... I'm not going to pull out. It's not an option. Ok?"

It's not a warning, it's a simple, honest statement. She looks at him with a fearful, desperate stare as his balls arrive to press against her flesh. Yes... nothing beats a wet pussy and a frightened stare.

"Ok…"

"It's better this way," he promises, wondering if it would make him a bad person if he disposed of her condoms first thing in the morning. "Ja?"

"Yes," she sighs. "Feels so good…"

The tightness in his chest falls down, all the way to his stomach and forms a bittersweet knot there. Why does she keep looking at him like that…? He's not hurting her, she's not exactly afraid, it's something else that's making her give him those dumb doe eyes.

"You're pretty," he rasps while trying not to start a complete fuckfest in every meaning of the word.

"O‐oh…?"

"Ja… It's illegal to be that pretty. Someone might want to fuck you..."

"Please do," she almost chokes on the words while looking up at him. "Please…"

If this is a dream, it’s the best dream he’s ever had. She's so perfect, far more needy and helpless than he ever imagined. He moves before he drives them both to madness.

"I'll fuck you, Liebling. As many times as you want. As hard as you want."

He can't remember when was the last time he sounded so soft. Or reassuring... He can't remember the last time a woman was so responsive to his cock. But he fucks her. He fucks his own sorrow into oblivion, too. He pauses only to take a good look at her and remind himself that he’s truly inside the sweetest pussy he’s ever had.

He even whispers lies to her ear about how she doesn't have to worry: he'll get her a plan B after this. The girl turns a bit wild now that it's somewhat safe to be fucked by an animal. She lets him lick and bite her breasts, and thoroughly abuse her cunt. At some point she grabs his face with both hands and kisses him, hungry and sweet. Squeals into his mouth as his balls slap against her ass, hugs him like a drowning person when he picks up the pace and starts to lose himself in her pussy. The feel of a woman's hands around his middle is a sensation he's forgotten completely.

"You like that?" He starts to talk nonsense between her sloppy kisses, pleased with his own soft voice, with her, with everything in his life right now. "You like my cock? Hm?"

"Yes… Oh fuck, I'm…"

Fuck, she's about to cum again... He's in heaven, no, he's somewhere near Eden. She suddenly goes still, and sinks her nails in his back, just before a cry cuts through the air. It reminds him of the aftermath of a grenade detonating; her moans pierce the air, and he can’t get enough of it. He wants to swim in those screams.

He was supposed to make love to her for hours, but it's crystal clear now that this won’t be a long session. He's a selfish asshole for chasing his own peak next by fucking her through her second orgasm like a rabid dog.

"Oh das ist sehr schön, das ist gut… Ach für–scheisse—"

He sounds a bit too pathetic, and quickly buries his face into her neck to escape her lovely, adoring stare. He fucks himself into a big, fat, blinding explosion, he can barely hear the thundering roar that meets her sweaty neck.

She's scared silent by his despair, poor little thing. And he just fapped this morning… But the orgasm compares to the first time he came, it's violent, abrupt and rough. Sadly, the descent is too heady, and too quick. Nuzzling deeper into her hair, he tries to listen to her heartbeat but only hears his own beastlike panting.

"Ok… Ok. I guess we both really needed that, huh?"

She's laughing and out of breath as she gathers their pieces and constructs some kind of a new reality out of them. He rumbles in agreement and refuses to pull out – now that he's inside her, he'll never fucking leave.

"Will you stay? For the night…?"

His question is met by complete silence. She just breathes, then buries her fingers in his hair. He feels like melting chocolate; for the first time in his life, he's somewhat relaxed and content.

"I… I'd really like to but… I can't. I have a party to attend.”

She gives him a quick kiss on the head, then ruffles his hair. She fucking pets him while he’s plunging into some deep recess with the raw, post-nut clarity.

She just needed a fuck… She just needed some cock. And a gift card, so she can buy nice things for the men she allows to lick her to ruin. Fuck… She's even worse than him.

“I'm sorry..."

"It's ok," he hears himself say. She’s too fucking gentle as she drags her fingertips across his scalp. Her other hand comes to trace his jawline, and her thighs hug his waist so good that he would have no trouble making love to her again. Just start another round with a slow roll of hips. Fuck her until they're both sweaty and crying, fuck her full of his cum and chain her to the bed, for safekeeping as he goes and gets himself a beer in between the sessions.

For some reason, he can't quite bring himself to act on this wish. Not when she just cried from how good he was, not when she's petting him like he's a good dog who's earned his rest.

He gives himself a minute before pulling out, and she leaves his bed in silence, tiptoeing into the bathroom in a hurry. Trust a maid to not want to stain the floor with cum when she just scrubbed everything clean…

She takes a quick shower and fixes her makeup, then picks her clothes from the floor. His heart is hammering in his chest, but his breaths remain even as he watches her get dressed. He even offers her a ride to the party, which she accepts with apologetic gratitude. It’s held at someone's home: a house party is a sight he has only ever seen from outside.

She gives him an uneasy, distant smile and a quick kiss before thanking him for the evening and the ride. Then she half walks, half runs across the pavement and up towards the door to be let in by her already drunken friends. Some man embraces her, and the white rage inside his skull is telling him to grab a gun, rise from the car and start a good old mass shooting. Instead, he guides his stare to the asphalt and drives off.

He goes home and has a beer, the rage and longing giving his insides a good stab every five or ten minutes. He watches some TV, then mulls over whether to sleep on the couch because her scent is still on the sheets.

It starts to rain outside, and reality kicks in. When it rains, it pours… He decides he actually hates Christmas, and he also can't stand the smell of freshly baked cinnamon rolls. Too tired to dump them in the trash, his feet carry him to the bed, cold and soiled and wrinkled from past love that never was.

The clock is only half past ten, and the doorbell rings just before he takes his shirt off. For the umptieth time this day, his heart starts to race, reminding him that it's not wars that are cruel, but women.

When he opens the door, she's standing there in the rain. Utterly soaked, dripping wet, sad like a stray cat, lower lip trembling from cold.

"Sir?" she declares, "I'm afraid to fall in love."

There’s a spread of wings inside his chest, catching wind like a soaring eagle. It’s a fell swoop and a heady high at the same time, a burning pain right there over his heart as he looks at her, lonely and sad and so adorably lost. Beautiful and wet, like a trampled little flower after a summer storm. She's perfect, just perfect.

And has she walked all the way back here…? There’s no sign of a taxi, no sounds of a car or a bus, and she looks like she's wetter than a wet dog.

"You’re afraid to fall in love…?"

She nods, then bursts into tears. Her tiny shoulders rise and fall with sobs, the rain makes long, wet strings of her hair. He takes a step and tries to pull her in, but she won't come. Stubborn, incredible little thing…

"Liebling... Me too."

"Really?” she raises her sad stare to meet him while trying to wipe her ruined mascara in the midst of falling rain. “You seem like the kind of man who fears nothing..."

"Oh I fear a lot of things."

"Like what?"

"Like… flying, for example."

"But you fly all the time?"

"Exactly."

She's sniffling and pouting and sobbing, like a princess who always got everything she wanted. He wonders if she's the kind of girl who would've laughed at him in high school, or looked him down her nose. If she would've joined the bullies and been the one to say she’d never sleep with a freak like him…

"Let's get you inside. Hmm? You must be cold."

She won’t come, no matter how hard he tries to coax her to come inside his dry, warm house. The rain falls in mats behind her as the city sleeps, vibrant and vigilant. He thought he already broke his heart to the point it couldn’t get more broken anymore, but the look she gives him as he tries to pull her inside is making it burst and shatter into pieces again.

If she's a princess, she must be a battered, broken one.

"Come on. I'll give you a bath," he tries to entice her. "And then we’ll tuck you in. That sound gut?"

"Yes," her shoulders drop as she finally accepts his asylum. "Thank you, sir…"

"And don't call me sir unless you want to make me hard."

She breaks into a fragile, shy smile while looking down at the tips of her drenched ballerinas. Then she allows him to drag her in.

He helps her out of her coat and hangs it to dry while his pretty little kitten gets out of her clothes for the second time this evening. A strong, powerful possessiveness settles in his chest as he guides her to the bathroom and draws her a bath. Then he pulls her shivering, naked body against him so that she wouldn’t feel cold while they wait for the tub to fill with water.

What happens next is soft and gentle, the kind of unhurried exploration he never had time to do because the few females he was with were always in a hurry to get away from him and his needs.

This pretty thing just eases herself into the bath. A timid but trusting little creature, who allows him to study her body like it’s already a possession for him to play with. She lets him rub her tits and tease her clit, caress her neck and face and waist. She does so with patience, love and hope. He’s been extremely tender and extremely slow with her; perhaps that’s why she doesn’t run away from him.

"You're too good for me," she whispers when his hand comes to rest on her stomach, just below her tits.

"...What?"

He barely hears what she’s saying, he can hardly hear her speaking at all because he’s there in the water with her, submerged in the hot, soothing liquid, even if he’s crouching next to the tub in reality.

"Oh please... You're everything a woman could want," she complains softly.

"What do you mean.”

She sighs and looks up to the ceiling, as if begging for help. Then she starts to list things.

"You're… Rich? And powerful, and strong. Kind and considerate. Mysterious... With a great body and a big dick, and still wanting to go down on a woman... It's insane."

He tries to remember how to breathe, but she’s not done yet.

"I'm sorry but… No one's ever eaten me out like that. You must be so experienced."

Her praise eclipses everything, even the thoughts of wanting to kill everyone who's had a taste of her.

So, the boys she's been with don't know how to please her… Stupid arschlochs don't understand what true devotion means. Even a fucker like him knows it's better to make a woman cry out of pleasure than out of fear. Although he always had a talent to do the latter…

And he's not experienced, he's just fucking horny. He just likes to eat pussy.

But that's not something she has to know. Better to have her keep the illusion that he's a dream catch, a rich cosmopolitan of some sort. What a joke…

"You’re literally perfect," she moans from the bath like the princess that she is. "How are you even single?"

"I'm not… right in the head, I guess."

"Well, neither am I."

He can’t look at her. Not when she’s open and trustful and sweet like this. But her hand comes to rest over his, under the water, under the safety of the surface.

"No one is."

"No. Wirklich, I’m a bit sick. Always was. I jerked off to your…" He leaves the rest of the sentence unsaid, risking a look into her eyes.

"I know," she smiles. "I don't mind… Actually I think that's hot."

"Liebling…"

"I think I’ve had enough now. Can we go to bed…?"

"Of course."

She giggles when he lifts her from the water, smiles as he dries him with his towel like she's a wet little kitten he rescued from rain. And perhaps he did... She caresses his chin when he carries her to bed, and reaches for him as he accompanies her under the sad, steel-blue sheets.

He doesn’t need to fuck her, not right now. It’s enough that she’s here: soft, trapped, and tame. His, just his.

Not another lonely Christmas for him ever again…

And she latches herself onto him like he’s the saviour she’s been waiting for all her life. Poor thing doesn’t know that he may be rich and powerful and strong, but he’s not kind. He’s not considerate, and he’s not perfect. He’s her worst nightmare, he's everything a woman would despise.

He’s single because no one ever stayed. No one stayed after they saw who he really was... Some even had to flee the country.

But he knows she’ll stay. He’ll make sure that this cute one never leaves. No, this one is not safe from him, even if she tried to escape him to space.

"Are you still afraid?"

He caresses her head, pressed against his chest. She’s unsuspecting and lovely, the perfect woman, hugs him so tight and sighs from simple, lamblike happiness.

"No," she smiles softly. "Not at all... I know you'll treat me right."

#könig x reader #könig x you #könig fanfiction #yandere könig #tw: dark content #könig smut

3K notes · View notes

joelscurls · 6 months

Text

I wanna show you off

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 4.1k

summary: The women who live in your building aren't subtle in their hatred for you — or their affection for your boyfriend, Joel. You decide to set them straight.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, porn with plot, no outbreak, established relationship, implied age gap, horrible neighbors, general cattiness, all the ladies want Joel, alcohol consumption, fluff, explicit smut, possessive!reader, exhibitionism, dirty talk, oral (m receiving), facefucking, unprotected piv, creampie, one (1) spank, use of pet names (baby, angel, darlin', etc.), I think that's all? lmk if I missed anything!

a/n: idk what happened. I saw one too many tiktok edits set to the song agora hills by doja cat and blacked out. anyway, enjoy!

If it weren’t for your rent-controlled apartment with a perfect view of the downtown skyline, you would’ve moved out of your building by now.

Your neighbors don’t like you. You’re certain of it. You can tell by the way the ladies stick their noses up at you in the elevator and whisper to each other the second they think you’re out of earshot.

It had started, you suspect, because of your age. You’re a lot younger than all of the other residents here, your apartment left to you by your grandmother after she passed away.

The building is prime real estate, situated in the heart of one of the city’s most desirable neighborhoods. Most of the people who live here have done so for ten, twenty, even thirty years. And it seems that time has festered a sort of social hierarchy: one which places you at the very bottom.

You shouldn’t care. And you hadn’t, for a while. But their eyes have started to feel like daggers, pointed directly at you at all times, and you feel as if you can’t even enter the building without judgment.

You’re not a bad neighbor. You’re not. You’d learned through living in a dormitory in college how thin shared walls can be, and, as a result, the proper volume at which to keep your music; how you should always be cautious to not let your door slam closed on the way in; that you should never vacuum after eight pm or before eight am.

You never leave trash in the hallway, and you park your car only in your allotted spot, despite the fact that it’s the farthest away from the building.

Even so, the lack of weathering in your face makes them look at you like you’re less, like you’re a greedy little thing who has taken something she isn’t worthy of.

It’s the same way they look at you when they see you with your boyfriend, Joel, for the first time.

They leer when you walk into the foyer, hand-in-hand with an older man. He’s handsome, rugged, something out of Nicholas Sparks novel. And you’re you.

Joel thinks you’re being paranoid at first, says they couldn’t possibly hate such a sweet, friendly girl. The girl he loves so damn much. But it doesn’t take long for him to notice it too: the glares, the scoffs, the misplaced judgment — never set in his direction, only ever yours.

One Sunday afternoon, as he sits on your couch watching the Cowboys game with a sweating bottle of beer in his hand, you step out to grab your mail. You’re close to tears when you return, flinging the door open, envelopes slipping from your trembling fingers.

He leaps up as soon as he catches sight of your face. Your expression is stuck somewhere between sadness and rage, bottom lip tucked between your teeth so firmly he worries you’ll draw blood.

“I hate them,” you sob as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you against his broad chest. You’re wetting his shirt, the one he just bought the other day. But he won’t let you lift your head. If anything, he holds you tighter.

“Wanna tell me what happened, darlin?” he asks, leading you toward the couch. You sit down together, your body still wrapped in his, and you groan.

“It’s stupid.” Your voice is muffled by cotton. He loosens his grip on you only enough to let you turn your face. “I was getting my mail, and they were down in the lobby,” you sniff. “The woman who lives right next door – the one with the outdated perm, and the one across the hall with the yippy little dog.”

“Mhm,” Joel soothes, running his thumb gently along the tense line of your jaw. “Did they say somethin’ to you?”

You huff. “No, not to me. They didn’t see me there.”

Their hushed voices still ring in your head like a fire alarm in need of new batteries: relentless, infuriating.

Don’t know what in the world a handsome gentleman like that is doing with a little girl like her. You’re tellin’ me. What a shame. Such a young thing – she can’t possibly know how to handle a man like that. He needs a woman his own age!

“They said I’m not good for you,” you weep. “That I’m too young. That I — I c-can’t be what you need.”

“Darlin,” Joel drawls. He fishes the tv remote off of the coffee table and flicks the screen off. Drops it somewhere next to him on the cushion. The apartment is noticeably quiet now, apart from your shaky breaths and the dull drone of an idling truck engine from the street below.

“You know I love you, right?”

You sniff again. Nod.

“I don’t give a shit if people think you’re too young for me,” he huffs. “You’re a grown woman. You give me everything I could possibly need and then some.”

“Yeah?” you squeak. You know deep down that Joel wouldn’t stay with you if he had any reservations about any aspect of your relationship. But after months of no reprieve from stinging glares and brash insults, you feel as if you’ve been broken down, reduced to an anxious, overwrought version of yourself.

Joel repositions himself, sprawling back on the couch and pulling you with him so that you’re laying against him. “Yeah,” he repeats, stroking your hair. He tucks a loose strand behind your ear, away from your glassy eyes. “Those ladies can get their asses in line.”

You laugh, then — a real, genuine laugh — the kind that Joel can somehow always pull out of you, even in the most inopportune of times.

You’re so grateful for him, for his innate ability to calm you down when it feels like the world is crumbling below your feet. Grateful that he’s yours.

You lift your head. Prop yourself up by the elbow on Joel’s thigh. Wipe away the lingering wet on your cheeks with a deep, settling breath.

“Does it stroke your ego, having a fan club of women who wanna fuck you?”

He smirks. Pulls you closer to him with a hand cradling your face.

“Maybe a little,” he whispers, his lips ghosting yours. “Does it stroke your ego, bein’ the only one who gets to fuck me?”

And in truth, it does. You’re the only one who knows where he likes to be kissed, how he likes his cock stroked, how to make him cum embarrassingly quick with just your mouth.

You’ve learned him intimately, every inch of him. Ruined him for any other woman.

So in a fucked up kind of way — it does.

“Yeah,” you admit. You suck his bottom lip into your mouth, silently reveling in the way he immediately moans, the way he bends to you.

“These all mine?” You bring a finger to his lips, sputter on a shaky exhale when he unexpectedly parts them and sucks the digit into his mouth.

“Mhm,” he hums around you, takes your free hand in his and guides it down his body, across the expanse of his torso, the plush of his belly, pausing when you reach his crotch.

Your pulse quickens, then, a dull throb forming at the base of your neck. You extricate your finger from his mouth with a gentle pop.

“This too,” he whispers, canting his hips up toward the flat of your palm.

He’s half-hard, his clothed bulge pleading for attention. But he pulls your hand away quickly, not letting himself get carried away at the feeling of your fingers grazing him through denim.

Instead, he re-situates it against his chest so that you can feel his heartbeat where it hammers under skin, against flesh and bone. “This is all yours too,” he says, voice so low it reverberates in your skull.

“All of it — all of me. Don’t gotta worry your pretty little head with anythin’ anyone else has to say about the matter. Got it?”

His words are spoken with so much conviction that you have no choice but to believe them, to let them stick in your brain like anchors in sand: deep and immovable.

Yours, yours, yours.

And nobody else’s.

“Yeah,” you smile into the column of his neck, inhaling his scent: mostly him, but with notes of you.

“Got it.”

It’s two weeks later when she makes a move on him: the woman with the perm. Joel is taken aback by her boldness, with you just a few feet away, digging your key into the lock of your mailbox.

“You must work with your hands,” she purrs, grabbing one of his wrists and examining his calloused fingers with such little integrity, his mouth actually slips open at the unabashedness of it all.

“Uh-”

“I’m Sheila,” she hums, raking her fingers through tight, blonde curls. “And you are?”

“Joel,” he grunts noncommittally. Wrenches his arm back. He doesn’t miss the way her eyebrows twitch in offense.

But she’s insatiable, this woman. She bounces back like a rubber band, not-so-subtly pushing her breasts together, the zip of her sweatshirt slipping down an inch and her mouth curving into a salacious grin.

You just about stop dead in your tracks when you round the corner to the lobby, junk mail in hand, and see her, her body turned towards Joel’s, chest pushed out and hip popped. She has a bedazzled tote bag full of groceries slung over her shoulder, a head of leafy greens poking out the top.

“Hi neighbor!” she smiles mockingly at you, all lipstick-stained teeth, when you sidle up to Joel. “I was just telling your friend here what nice, strong arms he has.” She’s not looking at you, eyes locked firmly on Joel’s biceps, nearly drooling at the sight of him.

Heat spools behind your ears, red-hot.

“Not her friend,” Joel corrects before you can. “‘M her boyfriend.”

“Oh,” she says. “Boyfriend.” Her lips wrap loosely around the word, like it’s some fanciful thing. “You’re too old to be someone’s boyfriend.”

Joel takes a step away from her, closer to you, and splays a steadying hand across your back. “Man-friend, then.”

You laugh, not because it’s funny, but because this entire conversation is fucking awkward.

Sheila pays you no attention.

“Well,” she sighs, overtly staring at the exposed skin of Joel’s chest, where the top two buttons of his flannel are undone, “Joel, if you’re ever lookin’ for a good meal, I’m just next door.” She flits her eyes up to his and smirks. “Know a big man like you has gotta eat.”

Your vision blurs scarlet.

Joel is equally as infuriated. The disrespect of this woman, to so openly flirt with him in front of you. His fists ball tightly at his sides.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” he gruffs. “Anyway, nice to meet ya ma’am-“

“Sheila,” she reminds him.

“Sheila,” he repeats, only to appease her. He turns to you, squeezing your waist affectionately. “We should probably get goin’, right sweetheart?”

You’re still fuming, barely able to register Joel’s voice next to you through the thick haze of pure fury clouding your mind, but you manage to nod, spit out a hurried yeah.

And with that, Joel is turning on his heels, pulling you with him toward the elevators. You don’t dare look back at her, but you can feel her eyes boring a hole in the back of your head.

Her footfall fades into the mailroom and you breathe a minuscule sigh of relief. At least she’s out of your sight.

“Please just move in with me,” Joel begs when you’re finally behind closed metal doors, the inspection plaque situated above the buttons suddenly extremely interesting as you try to focus on not thinking about setting this woman’s apartment on fire.

You’ve talked about living together a few times. It’s just — you’ve never considered it so seriously until right now.

“I can’t let them win,” you mutter, agitated.

You hate how they’ve made you feel, like you’re some helpless animal tucked in the corner, hiding from them. Just waiting for the next ambush.

With the passing of each floor, your anger simmers, bubbles into a silent rage in your stomach, one which threatens to boil over at the next underestimation of Joel’s devotion to you. You need to make it known, once and for all, that he’s yours.

Words from your grandmother play on a loop in your head, ones she repeated to you often when you were a child: if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.

And then you have a thought — a devious thought — maybe you don’t have to say anything to get your point across. Not to them, anyway.

Your mouth is on Joel the second you’re back inside the four walls of your own apartment, slotting against his pulse point and sucking a desperate bruise there.

He’s not expecting it — why would he be? You’ve just been seething the entire elevator ride up to your floor, the entire walk down the long, winding hallway to your unit. He’d practically been able to see the steam billowing from your ears.

So the switch-up is more than a bit dizzying, to say the least.

“Whoa, darlin’,” he pants, his large hands draping over your shoulders. “What are you-”

“Joel.” Your voice is stern; it demands his attention. “Do you trust me?”

Your hand trails down his body languidly, in a straight line to the waistband of his jeans. And fuck, of course he trusts you — more than anyone. But this is wrong, fucked up, for you to make him feel good when you’ve been made to feel so small these past few minutes.

Still, his cock doesn’t get the memo, twitching in his jeans as you place another open-mouthed kiss on the underside of his jaw, your fingers beginning to fiddle with his belt buckle.

You give him no choice with the way you’re touching him, the way you’re looking at him when you pull back, all pleading eyes and parted mouth, but to resign all protest. He’ll give you the world, and if right now you want to use his body to blow off some steam, who is he to complain about it?

“Yeah baby, of course,” he breathes. “What do you need?”

You smirk at him audaciously, tongue smoothing over your teeth. “Need you to be loud,” you purr. Your voice is so innocent in juxtaposition to the words you spew. It sends a chill down the column of his spine. “Let them know who makes you feel good.”

He nearly cums in his pants untouched, grasps at the fabric of your shirt with clumsy hands and nods. “Fuck, okay.”

His belt falls to the floor with a clang.

He lets you take control, then. Lets you mark him with your tongue and your teeth, lets you back him to the door with deft fingers working his shirt buttons open before sinking to your knees in front of him, freeing his hardening cock from the confines of his jeans and boxers.

It’s already weeping for you when you pull it out, precum beading at the tip. He’s so big, growing heavier in your hand with each passing second, and you lose yourself for a moment, hypnotized by him.

“Always so eager to please me, aren’t you, pretty girl?” Joel’s voice pulls you back to earth, soft and adoring.

“Louder,” you remind him. Plant a kiss right over top of his leaking slit.

“Fuck,” he hisses through his teeth. One of his hands flies to the crown of your head, anchoring himself with fingers in your hair. “Dirty fucking girl.”

His voice fills the entranceway, confident and filthy.

“Mmm,” you hum approvingly.

“Yeah? You want me to tell ‘em? Tell ‘em you’re making my cock drool for you? That nobody — shit-” You enclose your lips around his tip, suckling on it as your fingers wrap around the base of his length and you begin to stroke him lazily. “-that nobody has ever made me feel this good?”

Footsteps echo down the hallway and the sound makes you reflexively pause, your hand stiling on Joel’s cock. It’s followed by the jingling of metal, the click of a key in a lock, the opening and closing of a door — all close enough that you can pinpoint the source, can tell where exactly it’s coming from.

Sheila is home.

Perfect.

It’s probably worrying how excited it makes you, the prospect of her hearing, of her sitting alone in her apartment, at her empty dining table, and listening to Joel fall apart at your hands. Maybe they’ve driven you to and over the edge of sanity with their words, her most of all. Regardless, you can’t help the way it makes your cunt flutter around nothing.

You lick a slow stripe up the underside of Joel’s cock, starting just above his balls and dragging the flat of your tongue up, up, up to his tip. His breath shudders, his grip on your hair tightening, and the subtle sting at the center of your scalp gives you another idea.

“Do you wanna fuck my face, Joel?”

“Do I wanna — fuck — you’re gonna kill me, angel.”

“Go ahead,” you encourage, unhinging your jaw as wide as it can go, letting your tongue droop over your bottom lip.

Saliva pools in your waiting mouth and Joel groans at the sight of you, so malleable for him, begging to be used.

“You sure?”

It’s not that he doesn’t think you can handle it. He knows you can. You’ve taken him down your throat more times than he can count. Always so fucking eager to please him, you are — just one of the many reasons he feels so goddamn lucky, so infuriated that anyone would think otherwise.

But still, he can’t help but worry that he’ll hurt you.

You nod, eyes locked on him, confirming beyond a shadow of a doubt that you want this. He nods back, beginning to feed his cock into your mouth, easing it in slowly and halting when his head hits the back of your throat, causing you to gag.

You don’t pull away, don’t show any indication of displeasure. In fact, you dig your fingers into the meat of his thighs, bearing down on him as you push forward. Mascara tears stain your cheeks as you choke on him, laser-focused on relaxing your throat so that you can accommodate more of his length.

Joel pulls back, retreating entirely before pushing in again. He slowly increases his pace, your eyes hooded, so doelike and innocent, as his cockhead bruises your larynx.

The sounds he’s pulling from your mouth are absurdly lewd: muffled gags and frantic inhales of breath. And then there’s him, moaning wildly, not sure if he’d be able to shut up even if he needed to be quiet. Your mouth is good, too fucking good and he’s going to — fuck, he’s going to cum if you don’t stop.

He pulls out abruptly, a string of drool and precum tethering the tip of his cock to your swollen bottom lip. You’re panting, coughing, still bracing yourself against his legs when you fucking smile up at him.

“Christ,” he says. “Fuckin’ angel, you are. Mouth feels like goddamn heaven.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. But I need to cum in that perfect little cunt,” he breathes, pulling a strangled moan from the back of your rawed throat.

He helps you up, spins you around to face the door. You brace both hands on the wood, humming as he pulls your pants down to your knees. His breath is on the back of your neck, trailing up to the shell of your ear with one whisper just for you, because he can’t help it.

“So fuckin’ beautiful, you know that?”

You shiver, responding with a tilt of your head, inviting him in with a needy little mewl. He cradles your face in one of his large hands, the other rubbing over the curve of your ass as he kisses you passionately, tasting himself on your tongue.

The hand on your ass trails lower as he deepens the kiss, two fingers pressing against your clothed seam. You’ve all but soaked through the fabric, wet cotton molding to his knuckles as he caresses them along your pussy before pulling your panties down in one swift motion.

You whine into the kiss, desperate and dripping for him. “Please,” you breathe against his lips. “I’ll make you feel so good, I promise.”

“Know you will,” he coos, mouth parting from yours as he straightens out and lines himself up with your entrance. You arch your back, rocking onto the balls of your feet as he teases you with the tip.

His cock is so thick when it finally notches into you. It’s always so devastatingly thick, no matter how wet you are for him. The stretch stings, a jolt of warm pain coursing through your walls as he stills halfway in.

“You okay?” he asks, one hand resting at the small of your back, the other on your hip, fingers gripping to you only tight enough to hold you in place.

“Yes, fuck — yes,” you whine. “Need you to fuck me, Joel.”

“I’m goin’ to baby, don’t worry,” 'he promises, pushing in another splitting inch. “Pussy’s so goddamn tight, ‘ts suckin’ me right in.”

It feels like hours pass with Joel’s cock motionless inside your aching cunt, his warm breath fanning across your back as he focuses on not cumming. You’re whimpering, begging under the weight of his body, to please just fucking move.

When he finally obliges you, pulling all the way out and then bottoming out in one deep thrust, it nearly punches the air out of your chest. You scrabble for purchase on the door, fingernails scraping against chipped paint. “F-uucckk,” you moan, eyes rolling back in your head as he sets a dizzying pace.

The sound of his balls slapping against the back of your thighs is enough to attract attention on its own, the loud smacksmacksmack going straight to your cunt. Joel growls behind you, driving into you even harder, the tip of his cock brushing against your g-spot.

“Oh, shit,” you cry. Your pussy inadvertently squeezes him and he curses at your back, low and deep.

“Not going to last if you keep doin’ that,” he warns. “Cunt is too fuckin’ good. Best I’ve ever — uuuhh — had.”

He’s not just saying it for show. It’s true. You know it is, too. He’s told you before, both under the influence of your pussy and not. Waited too many goddamn years to feel like this, he’d said once.

“It’s — fuck, it’s fine Joel,” you mutter. “I’m close too, just keep going, right there.”

A door across the hall creaks open. A pair of footsteps patter across tile.

Do you hear that? Yeah; what is that noise?

Joel laughs darkly behind you, snaps his hips up, forcing a guttural moan out of you.

“Think they caught us, darlin’,” he says. “Caught you takin’ my cock like you’re fuckin’ made to.”

Oh my word!

Joel is unrelenting, pounding into you despite the voices right outside your apartment, and you fear for a moment that you’ve created a monster. One of his hands leaves its place on your waist, cracks down on the center of your asscheek with a slap, the flesh recoiling under his palm and you gasp.

The feeling travels between your legs, straight to your neglected clit. It pulsates under the hood with every pass of Joel’s cock over your g-spot, and you feel yourself hurtling toward the edge dangerously fast.

If these people don’t leave, they’re going to hear you cum. Do you want them to hear you cum? Yeah, you think, clit jumping again at the thought, I think I fucking do.

“Joel, fuck-”

“You gonna cum?” he goads. “Yeah, can feel you squeezin’ me — you’re gonna cum, aren’t ya?”

This is vulgar! We should file a noise complaint. C’mon.

His hand snakes around your front then, finds your throbbing bud, and with a few passes of his calloused fingertips, you’re gone, vision whiting out and all noise around you muted.

Joel keeps you upright between him and the door, his grip on you tightening as your muscles slacken. He follows closely behind, cumming inside you with a carnal noise from the back of his throat, rope after rope of his spend filling your cunt.

He pulls out with a grunt, immediately collapsing on the floor. Without his support, you topple over too, falling onto his lap with a satiated giggle.

A banging comes from the other side of the wall then, shaking your kitchen cabinets a few feet away, the clanging of glassware jolting you.

Keep it down next time! I don’t need to hear that!

And then you’re laughing like teenagers, Joel pulling you in for a sloppy kiss, all tongues and teeth.

“Think they’re really gonna make a noise complaint?” Joel asks when you finally come up for air.

“I dunno,” you smile. “Does your offer still stand — for me to move in with you?”

“Always,” he vows, forehead resting against yours.

end notes: ty for reading! pls consider commenting or reblogging if you enjoyed <3

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #tlou fic #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal as joel miller #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

4K notes · View notes

chososdiscordkitten · 23 days

Text

Keep Them On!

Synopsis: jjk men x reader w glasses ^-^ (yes they stay on during sex)

Includes: : 𝐍𝐚𝐨𝐲𝐚, 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨, 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨, 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢, 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐣𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢 Content: gn!reader, smut with a sprinkle of fluff, no plot, penetrative sex, cum play, oral (m), glasses kink(?)

MDNI

Naoya Zenin

Naoya is so mean when it comes to your glasses. At first, he was generally mean—pushing them up the bridge of your nose harshly when they would slip or hiding them whenever you made some kind of retort at him that he didn’t like.

Most of all, Naoya didn’t like it when he would say something you deemed ‘controversial,’ and you would take your glasses off in the middle of the conversation. Muttering something about how you didn’t want to see his face anymore.

So the next time your glasses were pressed against his face- lips slotted against each other and the plastic frames only making him more frustrated. Naoya pulled away from you, urging your head down to imply that he wanted oral. (yes he's a head pusher)

And when your hands reached for the little legs of your spectacles- Naoya sucked his teeth. Nodding his head ‘no’ and freeing his cock from his bottoms.

Muttering something along the lines of ‘I want you to see as best as you can.’ with far too much smugness coating his words with the very tip of his cock smeared against the clean glass with an amused laugh.

You scoffed as you felt Naoya slap his tip against the side of your cheek- urging you to open.

You were on your knees, between his legs, as he sat lazily on the couch, with one hand atop your head and the other wrapped around his base.

And when your lips finally had his tummy clenching, his eyebrows furrowed, and his head daring to tip back. Teetering on the very edge of an orgasm, Naoya pulled your lips off of his cock.

Your eyebrows furrowed, knowing he had a penchant for seeing you swallow his mess. Then it clicked when his hand started making filthy strokes at his cock- aiming his tip directly for the glass lenses with a smile.

His spend coating your glasses with a groaning huff from your lips. His only excuse was, “What? You were the one who said you didn’t wanna see me.”

When he saw the sight of the glossy frames being spurt by his cum- Naoya was sure to ask you for blowjobs with them on from now on.

Even if you spent the next 30 minutes complaining about how hard they were to clean- and how he was just being a brat. Naoya could always get you new glasses- or, as he put it. “Stop being blind, and you won’t need them.”

Satoru Gojo

From the moment Gojo found out you had glasses, he would make little comments about them. Not mean- just strange little statements that would leave his lips without filter.

When you would refuse to wear them in public- squinting at everything and holding onto his arm as a guide. Gojo would tell you to put them on, that you look even hotter with them. At once, even calling you a sexy librarian.

His own way of assuring you that a pair of glasses didn’t change anything to him.

He found it funny that he had perfect vision- almost too perfect, and you. Well, you needed pieces of glass to see or you would get dizzy.

In his mind, Satoru interpreted that as ‘I cover my eyes because I get sick if I don’t- and you wear glasses or else you get dizzy, another thing we have in common.’ just more ramblings of a man who was utterly whipped.

And this- well, it only translated to the bedroom activities.

The first few times- you always made sure to take them off. Knowing how Satoru can be with his afflictions for various positions- you didn’t want to break them. Same when it went for oral; you always took them off before going down on him.

And Satoru tried to get you to forget to take them off- be it interrupting when you’d try to catch up on work assignments, he would come in and distract you from them.

He would win most of the time- but you always took them off. Didn’t matter how pent up you or him were, you always did.

And the one time you chose to forget- too tired and completely uncaring if they stayed on while Gojo’s warmth kept you under the covers with him. Even if all of Satoru’s insides were screaming at him to say ‘Yippee’ and start jumping up and down at the opportunity presented to him. He didn’t.

Gojo went on about his tasks as he normally did- but when it came to spreading your thighs to welcome him, looking upon your framed eyes and smiling to himself at the little fog formed at the bottom from how heated your cheeks were.

Even more when his thrusts became frantic- your head moving against the pillow and slightly moving the glasses on the bridge of your nose.

And your hands were far too busy gripping on his arms- his hair, whatever part of his body you could find to help soothe the ache. Far too busy to fix the crooked lenses.

Gojo looked at you with the same look on his face he makes when he discovers something new he likes. A new flavor of candy, a song he liked the melody of- and now, the pretty whimpers leaving your lips, all topped off with your fogged, crooked glasses- only accentuating the fucked out expression you had.

And when he rolled off of you, looking at your lazy hand, reach up to the frame and pull them off, your lashes wet with salty water and your cheeks still warm to the touch.

Satoru made sure to ask you properly to keep them on next time- on his knees with his head bowed as though he was asking some colossal favor from you.

You would only furrow your eyebrows with a slight grimace- knowing of all the strange things he could ask of you, this one was probably the most tame one.

Suguru Geto

Suguru starts off so sweet with you- brings them to you freshly cleaned whenever he sees you without them. Lightly scolding you- “You’ll only get blinder if you don’t wear them.” he would say- sliding the legs behind your ears and making sure you had them on properly.

He only found it even cuter when you would squint at something- unable to see correctly without them on.

When it came to intimacy;

Geto made the discovery of your glasses being a turn on from the first few times he saw them fog up and slightly tilt to the side as he pounded them off.

But- there was one thing Suguru did that was the slightest bit annoying. Sure, you could deal with his incessant words- urging you that it was fine and you didn’t have to take them off. Or when you would reach to remove them Suguru would replace your hands and push them back up on your nose for you.

How desperation fills your movements when you take them off- tossing them to god knows where before connecting your lips to his again.

Unable to stand the little nudges the plastic made against Suguru, only seeing your glasses as an obstacle in the way of kissing him properly.

Leading to finding the frames in the most strange of places- and most of all, once or twice finding them broken, bent- or even with a lens popped out, nowhere in sight.

Or when you’d be in public and you’d look at him over the top of them- raising your brows with a questioning look on your face- it only reminded him when you would be giving him head and do the same thing.

He tries not to make a mess on them- he tries his hardest to cum in your throat or on his tummy. But it’s almost like his cock and brain rewire at the last second and aim his cockhead for the glass.

And Suguru’s thing for you in glasses was only intensified when you popped his cock from your lips- rubbing his shaft on your cheek with a fucked out smile. And his tip- nudging against the very bottom of your frames with every little stroke your hand made on his shaft.

And when he finally spurt his mess- your lips parted and waited for Geto to take his aim. Hot spurts of white landing on your cheeks, your nose, your lips- but most of it was on the glass you used to see.

What Suguru found most endearing- was when you would only smile and lick as much as you could from your lips. Not even complaining about his shitty aim.

In the end it was just glass that could be replaced had you really wanted to.

Toji Zenin

Toji swears he didn’t even notice you had them- he tried to convince you he had never noticed you needed glass to see.

But he would do this thing- this particular thing that you had never noticed before.

Be it when you’d be speaking- not noticing how his eyes would tighten, fixating on the little crook at the edge of your frames.

Reaching a hand out and pushing them to sit correctly on the bridge of your nose.

He had done it far too many times for you to ask what he was doing or why- so used to seeing his hand reach out to you that you never questioned it.

Toji also had this urge when it came to intimacy- and you were always too fucked out to notice his little habit during sex.

When you were on your back, your eyes closed and lightly covered by fog on the glass. The frames slightly tilted to one side as his eyes looked at your expression. His hand would go up to your face with an indulgent smile on his lips.

Fixing the little crook of your glasses before enjoying the sight before him again.

And when you were on all fours- Toji was thankful to have a mirror in front of you, piercing eyes watching the frames dare to fall off with every powerful thrust he made against your bottom.

Almost like he enjoyed watching them slip off- something about your fucked out expression adorned with a pair of crooked glasses, scratched at an itch in his brain he didn’t even know was there.

Toji had never realized this before you—he didn’t know if it was you specifically or glasses in general.

You always saw it as Toji showing his tenderness towards you- even if you were too busy focusing on other things to notice the little habit.

It didn’t click in his mind till one day he was listening to you speak- far too tangled in his own thoughts trying to figure out what it was precisely.

And then he thought back to the sight of you in the mirror. The look of complete and utter dissolution, as though you had finally let loose and released tension, that’s what he found satisfying.

Associating glasses with some kind of intelligence- even if you weren’t the brightest crayon in the box at times. The frames made you look the tiniest bit more intelligent. Like you were well-read.

And when he would fuck them right off of you- it seemed like he was fucking out any unnecessary fun fact you harbored in your brain.

With every roll of his hips- he would fuck you dumb, and continue till you were a blabbering mess, unable to see the satisfied look on his face in the mirror when they would fall off.

Kento Nanami

Out of all the men- Kento would be the most respectful of your glasses.

Not as though they were some kind of out of the ordinary trait you had than nobody else did. You just needed a little help to see is all.

But Nanami would be lying had he said that the sight of you pushing your glasses up your head like a headband didn’t make something in him twitch.

Be it how your eyes glimmer without the glass blocking them or how effortlessly radiant you look when you look at him without them.

Or when you would crawl between his legs and nudge the book he was reading to the side. Pressing the side of your face on his tummy and watching the frames move from the smush of your cheek.

When he would roll over in the mornings and see your uncovered face. The bridge of your nose undented from the nose pads and the little creases of your eyes on full display so early in the morning.

What he hated most was how the glass hid your eyes- even if they were clear. A glare here or there or a smudge would make your eyelashes go overlooked.

Nanami understood that you needed them- that there was nothing he could do about it. He still liked looking at you with them on- but not as much as he liked seeing you without them.

It was still you behind the glasses, after all.

But when you would ask him to wait a moment- his hands wandering and gripping at any exposed skin they could find. His hips rested between your thighs. You would reach your hand from his hair- removing the glasses and placing them on your night table.

Wasting no time in connecting your lips with his again. Mumbling that you wanted to see him with your bare eyes between every breath of air he took.

This only gave Nanami the opportunity to keep his chest pressed against you- keeping his lips near yours. Even if they were not locked anymore, a mere millimeter from each other as you looked into his eyes.

Your request for looking upon him without assistance was heard. He made sure to stay as close as possible so you could see what you desired.

The light blush that roamed down his cheeks, every furrow his brows would make. And feel every exhale he would make tingle your skin before locking your lips again.

Lazy and unpatterned, not even bothering to close your eyes as his tongue swirled against yours.

As much as Kento liked your glasses- he much preferred you like this. No struggle in squinting just to see him. Being more than close enough for your bare vision to see his expression entirely.

Choso Kamo

Choso is sooooo sweet when it comes to your glasses.

Seeing you gasp whenever they’d slip off the nightstand, far too scared for them to break and not be able to buy new ones to contain the winces.

Or how you’d take them off occasionally and wipe the lenses whenever they smudge.

Even if you never mentioned it, Choso noticed the care you had for the frames.

So when you would ask him to pass them to you- he would make sure to grab the legs or the little bridge. Mimicking the way your fingers are always avoidant of the glass.

Or when he would notice a minor blot on the glasses before you could. Taking them off of you and swiping away any debris you had yet to see.

Choso had the decency to push your glasses up to the top of your head before he kissed you- knowing he could be needy and could end up damaging them had he not been careful.

And Choso never liked holding back how he felt when it came to you- so instead of that, he would move the precious item away and kiss you with all the urgency that buzzed in his insides.

When they would be at the top opf your head, almost moving too eager, they would slip down and lightly hit his nose. He would gruff softly- nearly irritated that the pair of glasses were trying to cockblock him right now.

Choso would gently take them off of you before folding them- placing them on a flat surface with a sprinkle of urge in his movements before connecting his lips to yours.

And in the mornings, he would always like watching your eyes open- a little squint forming on your eyes when you would wake. Little to no hesitation in giving you your glasses to see him clearly.

Kiyotaka Ijichi

You had always found it rather tedious that Ijichi insisted on kissing you with his glasses on- yours clashing with his were bound to cause scratches on both of your frames.

You always took yours off before he did his; muttering about how he wanted to see you clearly when things got heated.

But something about how he would look- so flushed and on the brink of whimpering. So easily flustered and tight in his slacks from a few sloppy kisses.

Even more so when he would clear his throat and adjust the little frames as you took yours off. As though this was some kind of business deal for which he had to stay composed.

Even during intimacy, he would keep them on- fogged up and bordering on falling- and yet Ijichi still insisted on keeping them on.

And the next chance you got- you pulled away and saw him with the little frames. His cheeks blushed red with a growing fog at the bottom of them. You couldn’t help but smile.

Pushing up the bridge of your own glasses and raising a hand to the black legs of his frames. “It’s my turn to see you.” you mumbled, pulling them off and staying close enough for him to see you.

That what taking off his glasses meant only gave you more reason to stay close to him and not dare pull away.

Ijichi got even more flushed, if that was possible- being able to feel your 20/20 vision gaze on his skin whenever you would scan over his body. Suddenly, all too aware of how it must have felt for you when you took your own glasses off in these moments.

He wondered if it ever felt as piercing for you as it did for him. Or even as half as vulturous as your eyes went low- the starved smile on your lips only adding to it.

(a.n) my most recent regret is not buying 'cum lube' and instead buying the regular lube. SIGH.

2K notes · View notes

revasserium · 7 months

Note

Pining Zoro and blind-to-it Reader?

un-certainly

opla!zoro; 3,422 words; fluff fluff fluff so much fluff, straw hat!reader, fem!reader, (seeminlgy) clueless!reader, lots of pining, banter, teasing, smitten!zoro, the whole nine yards

summary: in which everyone knows zoro's got it bad for you, except for you, of course.

one.

“so… i should just… talk to her.” zoro says uncomprehendingly, blinking at an exasperated nami, who has to take a long, steadying breath to keep from shoving him overboard. the waves beneath them are calm, the day above them, a gorgeous, endless stretch of blue so brilliant it almost pains the eyes to stare.

nami resists the urge to pinch her nose bridge as a dull ringing starts to echo in her ears.

“yes. sweet god — just go up to her and say ‘hey, i think i might like you’ and i guarantee you, things will go from there.”

zoro shifts his tightly knitted arms, squinting at her as if she might be lying or purposefully luring him into a trap, “go? so there’s a chance it could go badly.”

this time, nami really does drop her face into her hands, groaning loudly.

“well there’s always a chance it could go badly —”

“sounds like a bad idea to me.” zoro looks away, eyes still narrowed as the light sea breeze ruffles his hair, a colony of news coo squawking loudly overhead, one of them dropping down to careen towards the going merry, landing on the thick white railings next to them, ruffling it’s feathers as nami pushes off to dig in her pocket for some berry.

“oh! newspapers here!” your voice makes both zoro and nami jump, and a second later you’re bounding up the stairs to the forecastle deck and stuffing some berry into the news coo’s bag. your arm brushes by zoro’s as you lean over to offer the news coo a piece of dried shrimp, which it considers for a second before leaning forward and gobbling up.

nami gives zoro a soft shove from his other side, leveling him with a meaningful look before turning and making a show of going to check on her tangerine grove.

zoro doesn’t have time to glare before the news coo takes off with a pat-pat-pat of wings, leaving you and him very much alone on the sunny fore-deck. he purses his lips, casting about for something to say even as you hum happily to yourself, your arm still painfully close to his as you unroll the newspaper and flip though, blissfully unaware of the inner turmoil of the man standing next to you.

“uh — anything interesting?” zoro asks, desperate for something, anything to fill the silence.

you shrug, “nope… just the usual — uptick in piracy along the coast, tightening of marine patrols…” you turn and cast him a grin that makes his stomach twist inside him like a contortionist from buggy’s freakshow.

zoro clears his throat, thumbing absently at the hilt of his swords before taking a deep breath.

“hey — uh…”

“hm?” you turn towards him, with your wide attentive eyes and your stomach-curling smile.

zoro blinks, his gaze flickering from your soft button nose to the way the wind twines its fingers in the loose strands of your hair. two twin pearls glitter from the lobes of your ears and he feels the tension melt from him as he sucks in another breath.

just say it, nami had said, just tell her.

really, how hard could it be?

“i uh — there’s something i wanna talk —”

“wait, hold still,” you say, your eyes going wide as you lean forward suddenly and zoro’s visions tunnels in around him — you’re close, closer, too close/too close/too close!

your fingers card through his hair and he has to bite back the shiver that rockets down his spine as you pull your hand back with a black-tipped feather.

“the news coo left you a present,” you say, laughing as you offer him the feather.

zoro considers it for a second before taking it from you.

“it could’ve left worse,” he says, recalling the few times that he’d gotten bird shit in his hair.

you giggle; the sound makes him want to scream but instead, he settles for clearing his throat again.

“now, you make a wish,” you say, nodding towards the feather in his hand.

“never heard of that before,” he frowns slightly, “thought you could only wish on dandelion seeds and…” he waves at the endless stretch of sky above you, “shooting stars and stuff.”

your smile is so wide that zoro thinks his cheeks might start to hurt for you.

“haven’t you heard that rules are meant to be broken?” you ask, offering him the feather again. he looks at you, then at the feather, and the back at you.

“okay — i wish —”

you squawk flapping your hand, “no! you can’t tell me what the wish is! otherwise, it won’t come true!”

zoro smirks, cocking an eyebrow, “i thought rules were meant to be broken?”

you blush the most darling shade of red and he decides to take it easy on you (and, honestly, himself). so, he plucks the feather from your hand and closes his eyes, making a soft, silent wish. a wish that, in truth, he’d been making since the moment he met you.

when he opens his eyes, it’s to find you staring.

“kay. now what?” he asks, rolling the feather between his thumb and forefinger.

“now…” you gently tug the feather from him before opening your palm and letting the wind whisk it away, “you let the sea take your wish. and if you’re worthy, it’ll grant the wish for you!”

zoro lets out a breathy laugh, “if i’m worthy? and how’s it supposed to know that?”

you lean in, and if it were anyone else, he might’ve been annoyed, but with you, somehow, he finds himself charmed.

your voice is conspiratorial as you whisper, “because… the ocean knows all the secrets the sky can’t keep.”

two.

at dinner, with you by his side, usopp detailing some imaginary adventure, nami laughing, sanji blowing smoke rings towards the middle of the fire-lit deck. your cheeks are pink from the wine everyone is passing around and for a second, you bump into him and turn — he turns towards you too —

your eyes catch like unsuspecting fish to a bobbing hook and zoro feels his stomach tug as you grin up at him, the night sky caught in the flutter of your lashes.

he can’t help the way his gaze flicks down to your lips, and then back up again.

“feel like sharing?” you ask, nodding towards his half-finished bottle.

wordlessly, he hands the bottle to you and watches as you bring the mouth to your lips and take a long drink. he tracks the soft bobbing of your moon-lit throat and feels his own mouth go dry at the sight.

across the fire, sanji watches with a growing smile and nami rolls her eyes.

“oi, moss-head — mind if i take a swig too?” sanji asks as you hand back the bottle, dragging the back of your hand across your lips, and zoro turns to pin sanji with a glare.

“get your own,” he says, before polishing off the rest with a few hard sips and tossing the bottle into a rapidly growing pile.

zoro licks his lips and tries not to think about the way your lips had fit around the bottle just right; he tries not to wonder if you��d taste like wine. or, if he’d even have the mind to think that far if you were to let him kiss you.

three.

“… and then, you pull it through… like this?” you slowly bring your arm through a swiping movement, your hands clutched around the hilt of a wooden training sword. zoro sighs, shaking his head.

“uh — not quite — here,” he pushes off from the barrel he’s sitting on to circle around behind you, wrapping one hand around both of yours, the other palm curling around your middle to press against your stomach, “you’re breaking in your waist again — keep your core tight and —” he helps you swing the sword through in a swift arc.

“oh.”

it takes him a second to realize how close you are, how he can feel your entire back pressed against his entire front, how perfectly you fit into his arms, how easy it’d be to hold you to him and never let go.

“so just… practice that a few hundred times,” he says, stumbling back as his cheeks go hot and he feels the inexplicable urge to toss himself into the calm, saltine waves below, if only to cool down just a bit.

“will you practice with me?” you ask, your smile wider than the sky is wide — zoro is sure.

he blinks at you for a second before making a show of sighing and rolling his eyes.

“ah… i guess i could use a bit of practice too.”

he pulls out the wadou ichimonji and takes his stance next to you.

“ready?” he asks.

you nod, glancing over and adjusting your posture.

“okay, how many are we doing?”

zoro casts around for a number, “a thousand.”

“zoro!”

“five… hundred?”

you cast him a look that makes his stomach flip inside him.

“how about we start with a hundred, and then i’ll see how i feel from there?”

zoro clicks his tongue, smirking, “i could do a hundred in my sleep.”

you make a show of rolling your eyes, “fine then — go take a nap!”

zoro huffs as he clears his throat, “right then — let’s start — one, two —”

you squeak as you hurry to catch up, jumping as he reaches out a hand to correct your posture.

up on the foredeck, luffy watches with usopp by his side.

“hey! i wonder if zoro would teach me sword tricks if i asked!”

usopp sighs, clapping luffy on the back even as he shakes his head.

“uh — not that i think he wouldn’t but … maybe you should just… let them do their thing, yeah?”

four.

“i think you really should tell her,” luffy says, slapping zoro on the shoulder, a bit harder than he’d intended. zoro winces, pressing a palm to his chest — still sore from their recent raid.

“i don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

luffy laughs, leaning forward against the railing, “nami said you’d say that.”

zoro fights the urge to scowl as he sighs, his eyes narrowed at the damnably calm horizon. at least if the weather weren’t so nice, he could make up an excuse to leave but —

“really, what’s the worse that could happen?” luffy asks.

zoro grunts, shooting luffy a sidelong look, “oh i don’t know, she doesn’t feel the same and shit gets awkward and —” he waves a hand at the going merry, “the crew falls apart.”

thankfully, luffy doesn’t pause to call him out on for once not denying it.

instead, he lets out a contemplative hum, “hm… yeah, that could happen. but… i don’t think it will.”

inside his chest, zoro’s heart clunks, strange and uncoordinated.

“why? she say something to you?” he can’t keep the curiosity from his voice, the stomach-squeezing anticipation he’d only ever associated with the heat of battle and a really good fight. but now, he feels it whenever you get too close, and he wonders if he can go insane like this — if one day his heart might just give out.

“nope!” luffy’s voice is too bright, too cheerful, and zoro feels himself rolling his eyes before he can stop himself, “i’ve just got a feeling!”

“a feeling.”

“yeah! and — have a little faith! the straw hat crew isn’t that fragile.”

with that, and another hearty clap to the shoulder that leaves zoro hissing in pain, luffy clomps off towards the kitchens, where sanji is already doing dinner prep. zoro lets out another sigh as he straightens, carefully stretching his arms to test the range of motion.

above him, a flock of migratory geese fly southward in a soft, arrowhead formation. zoro holds up a hand to shield his eyes from the sun as he watches them pass overhead.

a single feather flutters down towards him and he finds himself reaching out to catch in the palm of his hand.

a wish, huh, he thinks, twirling the feather between two fingers before casting around to make sure no one else can see him. satisfied that everyone else is either too far away or below decks, zoro closes his eyes and makes a wish —

alright roronoa, please. don’t fuck this up.

five.

“ahem.” zoro clears his throat after dinner, making a point to down a couple more drinks than usual. he’s never been one to believe in liquid courage, but… it couldn’t hurt, right?

“can we, uh, talk?”

you smile a smile that threatens to crack his chest wide open, nodding.

“sure! what’s up?”

across the room, sanji visibly stills but nami catches his eye and shakes her head ever so slightly.

“c’mon… not in here,” zoro says, jerking his head towards the hallway that leads to the decks above.

“what’s got you so secretive all of a sudden?” you ask as he leads you all the way up to the crows nest, reaching down to help tug you up, letting his hand linger in yours as you grin up at him.

“i’m allowed to have secrets,” he says, turning to stare out at the darkened sea, the summer moon hanging low and full-bellied over the glittering waters, the stars winking like so many all-seeing eyes.

“we all are, but… i thought we’d gotten all your big ones after that one night the whiskey bar —”

zoro coughs, “alright, alright — don’t need to bring that up again.”

you laugh, leaning forward to pillow your cheek against your crossed arms, propped up along the edge of the crows nest.

“so? what’s this new secret, then?”

zoro swallows, “uh — wouldn’t exactly call it new.”

“alright then, an old secret.”

“not super old, either —”

you turn to look at him, half-exasperated, half-amused, but when you catch sight of his expression, you still, pressing your lips.

“zoro? is… everything okay?”

he ticks his tongue against his teeth and lets out a long breath, as if bracing himself for something before he says —

“yeah. i think —” he clears his throat again, trying to recall what nami had said about just saying it and he tries again.

“i think i might like you.”

the coil in his chest feels tight enough to snap, but you’re quiet as he turns to steal a glance at you.

“oh,” you say, you expression curiously contemplative as you look out over the darkened seascape.

zoro has to physically stop himself from shaking you by the shoulders — say something, goddamnit! say anything!

“so…” he says, knitting his arms across his chest instead.

you turn towards him, your eyes bright as twin stars.

“you think you might like me, right?” you ask, and for a second, zoro can only blink down at you, completely thrown by your lack of reaction. of all the things he’d imagined you doing — everything from getting angry to apologizing to throwing yourself at him with an impassioned speech about how you’d felt the same since the beginning — this was not one of them.

“uh… yeah, pretty sure that’s what i said.”

you cock your head, a quick, bird-like gesture that makes zoro’s heart skitter inside his chest, threatening to leap from his mouth as you continue to stare up at him, completely unabashed.

“ah… so what do you think we should do then?”

zoro stares, “… do?”

“yeah, because if you’re not sure if you like me… we should do something to make sure, right?”

and it’s then that he sees the soft, playful uptick of your lips, the glittering darkness behind your eyes. the tension in his chest seems to loosen even as he lets out a breath, chuckling before quirking an eyebrow and taking a step towards you, caging you in against the crows nest’s edge.

“mm. you’re right — i can think of a few things we could try, though.”

“yeah?” you voice is little more than an exhale on the wind, but it’s the last thing zoro tastes before he finds his lips on yours.

as far as kisses go, zoro would later think back, it was a pretty damn good one.

it started as a slow kind of kiss, a soft, unfurling of breath on breath, and then lips on lips. the ghost-friction of promises made and kept and unbroken, the first spark to a fire that had been threatening to consume him since the moment he’d heard you laugh.

and then — just like that, he’s kissing you. and you’re kissing him back, the gravity and inevitability of it making his head spin even as he presses in closer. it is sweet and warm and trembling — soft and hard and deepening. he runs his tongue along the seam of your mouth and savors the way you gasp open for him.

just him.

he swallows it like he wants to swallow you, reaching up to sink his fingers into the silk and gossamer of your hair, pulling you so close he can feel your heartbeat thrumming against his chest, your nails as they curl into the linen of his shirt.

it takes everything inside him to pull back, and everything else left not to dive right back in again. you’re both panting, a little breathless, and zoro — a lot relieved.

“so…” you say, your tongue flickering out to lave across your bottom lip.

zoro doesn’t try to stop his eyes as he tracks the spine-tingling motion.

“so?”

you grin, biting back the shiver that chases through you at the deep, base rumble of his voice, echoing from his body to yours.

“what’s the verdict? have you decided if you like me yet?” you ask, batting your lashes even as he watches your own eyes drop down to his lips. a dark, warm, purring satisfaction curls inside his chest at the way your pupils dilate, black as the night, bright as all her favorite stars.

“hm,” zoro hums, leaning down to skim a knuckle along your jaw, slowly guiding your face towards his again, “dunno… jury’s still out… might have to try it a few more times. y’know… just to be sure.”

“mm…” you sigh as he leans down to graze his teeth along your pulse point, fingers tightening around your waist as he feels you tremble in his arms, “y-yeah… wouldn’t want you to be —” you hiccup as he sinks a soft bite into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, “uncertain.”

“no…” and his voice is all groan and gravel as he lets himself breathe you in, “we certainly wouldn’t want that.”

bonus.

far below, beneath the decks of the going merry, sanji takes a long pull from a post-dinner cigarette, his lips twisting into a concerned sort of frown.

“it’s been a while since they’ve been up there. think we should go check on them?”

luffy shugs, still happily picking at the remains of the turkey carcass sitting in the middle of an oblong plate.

“they should be okay — i mean, they say that no news is good news, right?”

“uh, not sure that applies to this kinda thing,” usopp says as he makes to peak out of the nearest window.

nami swirls her drink, “i think they’re fine. and we’d hear if zoro threw himself off the crows nest, right?”

across the table, sanji blinks and luffy pauses in his munching.

“whoa, you think he’d really do that if she rejects him?” usopp asks, his face going a little pale.

nami rolls here eyes, “no.” and then a moment later, “but really, we’d hear him if he jumped, right?”

luffy licks his lips, shrugging, “dunno, probably though. he’s pretty heavy so he’ll make a pretty big splash.”

sanji taps a bit of ash into his empty bowl and lets out a long suffering breath.

“yeah, y’know really, no news is good news.”

5K notes · View notes

maplesyrupsainz · 29 days

Text

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙obsessed with u | LN4 ˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

pairing: lando norris x ln4 admin/photographer!reader y/n (she/her)

genre: social media au, new relationship

warnings: none just a lot of fluff!!

summary: in which a podium means you and your boyfriend hard launch a little bit early <3

a/n: omg i feel like this fanfic revived me and im back fr 🙏 hope it's ok OMG i rly tried to make a good plot but i fear i got no inspo atm anyway i fancy lando soooo badly atm it's rly shocking how bad i want him anyway ENJOY!!!! hope it dont suck ballzzz ahhhhhhhh

request!!!: lando x reader smau where reader is the admin of the Instagram account lnfour. You absolutely have the liberty of what you wanna do with it

my masterlist

instagram ->

landonorris posted a story

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, and 381,117 others

user1 stop soft launching and tell us who she issss

user2 need details

user3 👀 mr lando norris plz spill

carlossainz55 cute

liked by landonorris

yourusername posted a story

liked by yourbff, landonorris, and 18,204 others

yourbff ugh lil cuties

liked by yourusername

user4 so cute

friend1 aww look at you guys

liked by yourusername

lnfour 📍 melbourne, australia

liked by landonorris, mclaren, and 183,927 others

lnfour ready for the weekend 🦘

tagged: landonorris

view all 4,013 comments

user5 any sign of the gf then? 👀

user6 i love y/n's photographyyy

user7 same she's got the female gaze downnnn

user8 he's so hot

liked by lnfour

user9 admin leak who his gf is to us plz xxx

user10 i have a good feeling about this weekend's race 🙏

lnfour us too!!! 🕯️

interview ->

twitter ->

instagram ->

lnfour

liked by carlossainz55, maxverstappen1, and 201,723 others

lnfour anyone else hoping for a big reveal this weekend then?

view all 6,812 comments

carlossainz55 yes, me

lnfour 😂

user16 HELLOOO???

user17 urm wait guys hear me out

user18 let me guess you think he's dating y/n

user17 👀

user19 who is y/n omg im losttttt

user20 literally lnfour admin and photographer lol

landonorris 🤷‍♀️

liked by lnfour

user21 STRESSSS

user22 heart palpitations

yourusername posted a story

liked by landonorris, yourbff, and 31,022 others

landonorris damn who's that sexy man

yourusername 🙄

user23 HMMMM

user24 lando & y/n dating???

user25 that your man?

yourbff stop coz they're connecting the dots y/n

yourusername what dots?!!!

yourusername

liked by landonorris, mclaren, and 96,283 others

yourusername it's race day mi amigos

view all 3,727 comments

user26 mi amigos... muchos debris... they're meant to be perhaps

user27 some of you are reaching doesn't y/n have a bf already?

user28 she's been soft launching but nothing is confirmed so it could be anyone 👀

landonorris keep me in your thoughts and prayers

yourusername 😂 always!

user29 they're in love

user30 dramatic much

user31 wouldn't it be weird for lando to date someone he works with 😭

oscarpiastri let's goooooo

yourusername 💪

landonorris posted a story

liked by lnfour, yourbff, and 281,114 others

lnfour 💪💪💪💪💪💪 you got this

liked by landonorris

user32 URM HELLOOOO

user33 hi y/n

user34 hmmmmmmmm

user35 this is a big enough reveal to me .. 😇

lnfour posted a story

liked by landonorris, mclaren, and 22,927 others

user36 🤞🤞🤞🤞

user37 we're gonna win babyyyyyyy

liked by lnfour

mclaren posted a story

liked by lnfour, oscarpiastri, and 586,711 others

lnfour 🧡🧡🧡

user38 AHHHHHHHHHHH

user39 our boyyy

user40 big reveal when?

yourusername so proud

liked by mclaren

user41 p1 next time

twitter ->

instagram ->

yourusername posted a story

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, and 63,018 others

carlossainz55 so cute of him

yourusername CONGRATULATIONS CARLOS ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

user42 are you going to celebrate together

user43 AWWWW HE'S SO CUTE

charles_leclerc a handsome boy

yourusername 😊😊😊😊

oscarpiastri you'll come out celebrating with us?

yourusername wouldn't miss it for the world

alexandrasaintmleux posted a story

liked by landonorris, lilyzneimer, and 14,928 others

user44 she's such a wag without even being a wag

user45 love her

user46 oh to be in this friend group 😭

user47 she's so mother

oscarpiastri posted a story

liked by yourbff, landonorris, and 282,016 others

user48 IS THAT Y/N AND LANDO

user49 lando and y/n omg??

user50 OMG?????

landonorris delete

yourusername delete

*this story has been deleted*

twitter ->

instagram ->

landonorris posted a story

liked by yourbff, carlossainz55, and 305,137 others

yourusername not hiding it anymore then?

landonorris guess not 👀

yourbff AHHHHHH ily guys

liked by landonorris

user56 scream

user57 BIG REVEAL?!

lnfour

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, and 118,045 others

lnfour this weekend hit different

tagged: landonorris, carlossainz55

view all 2,018 comments

user58 YEA I BET IT DID

user59 just missing charles!!!!

user60 i love lando and carlos' friendship sm

user61 interesting

user62 not her acting like nothing is going on 😝

user63 WE KNOW

yourusername

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 221,673 others

yourusername hits different cause it's u

view all 4,381 comments

user64 peep oscar

lilyzneimer pretty couple 🫶

liked by landonorris, yourusername

user65 omgggg mclaren wag bffs

alexandrasaintmleux ily y/n

yourusername ilysm❤️🧡

yourbff GORGEOUS COUPLE

liked by yourusername, landonorris

user66 omg im so excited

user67 best big reveal ever

landonorris wow. look at u

yourusername donttttt. you'll make me blush 😭

user68 i love them omg

landonorris posted a story

liked by yourusername, yourbff, and 599,738 others

user69 AHHH TERRITORIAL LANDO YES PLSSS

user70 god she's hot

yourusername NOOO I SAID STOP I'LL BLUSH😭😭😭😭😭

landonorris you think i dont want that???!

yourusername obsessed with u omg

landonorris obsessed with u a lot more trust

THE END 🧡

#f1 #f1 smau #f1 fanfic #smau #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 imagine #lando norris #ln4 #lando x reader #ln4 smau #ln4 x y/n #ln4 fluff #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #ln4 x reader #ln4 x you #ln4 one shot #maddie's smau

1K notes · View notes

tojipie · 6 months

Note

what would it be like if toji had a needy cry baby gf 😣😣😣

this is such a cute ask omg :(( had so much fun writing this! enjoy

content: anxiety, hurt/comfort, fluff

the telltale sound of a buzzing phone wakes you from your catnap. you shift on the couch, lifting your head from toji’s lap to gather yourself.

“what is it?” he mumbles, pulling your blanket back over your shoulders to keep you warm. the hum of the TV almost lulls you back asleep, eyes fluttering shut.

“mm y’r phone is ringing.” you whisper groggily, rubbing your eye with the back of your hand.

“you wanna go get it for me?” toji asks, pressing a kiss to your hairline as you stand up from the couch, blanket still wrapped tight around your shoulders.

“it’s probably on the bathroom counter.” he notes, kissing you again as a thank you. he was always tender with you when you were sleepy. your heart soars as you make your way upstairs and into your shared room.

you can practically feel the ringing as you cross the threshold of the bedroom door, padding past the bed and into the connected bathroom with a hum.

he must’ve forgotten it here when the two of you had showered earlier you reason, shading your eyes from the lights the two of you left on.

you head towards the counter, grabbing the device and immediately dropping it onto the solid tile.

WHACK

… shit

“shitshitshit.” you curse, toji’s ringtone coming to a stop as soon as the phone had hit the floor.

your heart sinks to your feet all the way through the marbled tile and into the dirt as you approach the device, praying the sound it’d made on impact wasn’t as serious as you remembered.

“no.. nonono oh my god.” you whisper, immediately crouching down to pick his phone up off the floor, eyes filling with tears as you try to gauge the damage.

just as you feared, a massive crack running down one corner to another. the bottom left corner of the screen was completely blacked out save for a few blinking pixels around the edge, it’s touch screen barely responsive as your thumb runs along the electronic gash

hot tears run down your face as you realize the seriousness of what you’d done. toji needed this phone for work, practically had it on him at all times except for when he was at home.

he’d be mad at you, right? this was serious damage, something neither of you could brush off. his kindness only went so far you gathered.

and since when was bathroom tile that destructive? god, you were going to throw up.

“you ok?” your boyfriend yells from downstairs, turning your blood cold.

“yup!” you respond, voice shaking a little more than you intended. your wrap your blanket tighter around your quivering body, quickly wiping your tears with the soft fabric.

“who was calling?”

you curse again, tapping the shattered screen to try and look at the caller ID. you can barely make out shiu’s name with all the damage.

“it’s shiu.” you yell back, trying to soothe the redness around your eyes and nose in the mirror.

the stairs creak as you wobble downstairs, cheeks still wet with fresh tears. what were you even going to tell him? that you dropped his phone once and now it was practically unusable?

“hey thank you sweet gi—”

Toji’s face falls at the sight of you, immediately standing up to wrap you in his arms. your quiet sniffles turn into full blown sobbing as you clutch the phone to your chest, trying your best to hide it from him.

“what’s wrong pretty?” your boyfriend whispers, rubbing your back with a huge hand. the older man presses soft kisses to your cheeks and forehead, leading you over to the couch and pulling you into his warm lap.

“i dropped your phone.” you whimper, shaky hands fiddling with the device as you prepare to disappoint the love of your life.

“yeah?” toji mumbles understandingly. “let’s see it baby, don’t worry.” he reassures you, taking his phone from your lap and turning it over.

“it’s just it was still wet cause you were answering a text in the shower and it slipped from my hand and—”

you gauge his face for an inevitable scowl, maybe a scoff. whatever it was, you deserved it.

instead, toji smiles.

“oh my god.” you whimper. was he so mad that he had no choice to smile? was there simply not any other expression to convey how upset he was?

toji surprises you again as he throws the phone to the side, letting it bounce across the couch cushions.

“that’s it?” he laughs, rubbing up and down your sides.

“you sniffle again, wiping your eyes.

“whadduya mean that’s it… i broke it.” you practically sob, turning to get up from his lap.

warm hands circle around your arms, leading your smaller body back to his chest. the older man wipes your cheeks with both thumbs, pressing an impossibly soft kiss to your hairline.

“nothing I can’t get fixed.” he tells you, smoothing your hair away from your face.

“but it’ll be expensive..”

“not for me.” he laughs

“you should be me at me.” you mumble softly, guilt still knawing away at you.

“why would I be mad at you for making a little mistake?” toji’s voice is soft, reassuring. his chest is warm and he smells like a campfire, practically lulling you to sleep with how tenderly he holds you.

“I’ve literally had a bullet go right through my screen baby.” he laughs. “I’ve dropped my phone out of moving cars, I’ve had it run over. you think i don’t replace this thing every month?”

you gasp, head popping up from his shoulder. “a bullet?”

“you can thank shiu for that.” he mumbles, kissing you again.

“what I mean is it’s nothing i can’t fix.” he tells you, reclining onto the couch and pulling you with him. “how could I ever be mad you?” he whispers into your cheek.

you nod, the last of your tears drying up as your body relaxes on top of his. you hated how bad your anxiety got at times, clouding your judgement and effectively convincing you that the world hated you.

“tell you what.” he starts.

“tomorrow how about me and you go pick up a replacement for me, and then get you a new phone too?” he asks tenderly, tracing shapes into your hair with his finger.

“you wanted the new one right? in pink?”

you nod with a giggle, eyes fluttering shut as the sound of your boyfriend’s heartbeat syncs with yours.

“yeah.” you tell him shyly, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “in pink please.”

3K notes · View notes

verstappen-cult · 1 month

Text

# WAVE OF YOU | CL16

Charles is spending summer in Australia with his friends when he meets a very pretty girl and her dog at the beach.

Pairings: Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader Content Warnings: A little meet-cute, just pure fluff! And Pierre being a menace for like a second.

Gwen’s radio message. . . 💬 : i saw the video and an idea popped into my mind, you can’t blame me for being weak. this is just a little silly meet-cute because your girl can’t stop thinking about surfer!charles. save me surfer!charles, save me !! i’m thinking about turning this into a series, would you like that?

You never thought you’d be living in Australia in your twenties. You honestly never thought about leaving your hometown to follow your dreams. Yet, here you are, sitting on the sand on a quiet morning, playing with the golden retriever you adopted two weeks ago. She comes running back to you, leaving the tennis ball at your feet and sitting, patiently waiting for you to throw the ball again.

“You never get tired, uh?” She tilts her head, tongue out and breathing heavily. You throw the ball into the water and she immediately runs back for it.

You take the opportunity to look around. It’s still a little early so there aren’t many people, a few people walking their dogs or running, a few surfers and a group of girls a few meters away. You notice that they can’t stop looking at the group of boys in the water trying to catch waves. It’s funny, because you used to be exactly like them when you were a teen.

They’re talking and — despite knowing you shouldn’t — you pay close attention to what they’re saying.

“Last week he smiled at me, I swear!” One of them says, twirling her hair while still straight ahead.

“They’re so hot.” You try not to laugh, hiding a smile by turning your head around.

It’s not the first time you’ve seen the group of boys, but it is the first time that you pay attention to what people actually say about them, and that makes you a little bit curious.

There are five guys in the water, two of them are sitting on their surfboard talking while the other two chase waves. You notice that the fifth guy is actually getting out of the water, blue surfboard under his right arm as he looks at the dog looking up at him and wagging its tail. Your dog.

“Daisy!” You call her but she doesn’t move, she just looks at you from her spot next to the man. You get up and start walking towards her when the stranger looks up at you. And you stop breathing for a second, face turning pink as you feel bright, green eyes boring into you.

You agree with the teenage girls about them being hot because this man is definitely very attractive. He’s wearing a black wetsuit, you notice as he runs his hand through his messy, wet, brown hair. He’s also smiling. At you.

He crouches to unhook the surfboard’s leash from his ankle, leaving it aside, and pets Daisy behind her ears. She closes her eyes and moves closer to the stranger. Your heart skips a beat when he looks up at you again, still smiling.

“Hey, Daisy? You wanna play?” He has an accent that makes you weak in the knees. The stranger takes Daisy’s ball from between her paws and throws it a few meters away, and she immediately runs back for it. “She’s cute.” You’re very cute, he thinks.

You smile because you don’t know what else to do, still very much feeling frozen in place.

“I’m Charles, nice to meet you.” The stranger—Charles reaches out a hand, you look at it for a beat before taking it gently to shake. If you feel sparks flying, nobody needs to know that.

You swallow, trying to find your voice before the cute guy thinks you’re weird. “I’m Y/N and,” You feel Daisy’s nose nudging at your leg. “this is Daisy.” You say, looking down at her.

Charles crouches back down to take the ball again, this time not breaking eye contact, and throws it into the water. You feel yourself blushing — again !! — under his intense gaze. You also feel your insides burning and going crazy with butterflies. You curse under your breath because what is wrong with you?

“You come here often?” He cringes after saying that and you’re pretty sure you see a faint blush adorning his cheeks. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“Oh, I adopted her two weeks ago, so we're pretty new to the beach.” You explain, looking over his shoulder at your little golden playing in the water. You’re gonna have one hell of a time trying to get rid of the salt water and sand of her hair.

He smiles again and what the hell? He has dimples?

“You’re not from here, right? I can hear a little accent…” He blurts out, massaging his neck in a nervous manner.

“I just moved here a few months ago.” You laugh, fidgeting with your fingers. “I can say the same thing about you.”

The guy chuckles, shaking his head. “I’m from Monaco. I’m visiting a friend for the summer.”

“Oh, that’s cool!” When Daisy comes running back, you’re quick to pick up the ball — to have something to do besides looking at his pretty green eyes — and throw it farther just because it’s good that she’s running and having fun, definitely not because you want to keep talking with Charles.

“What brought you to Australia?” Charles asks, like he's genuinely interested.

“It’s silly, really.” You break eye contact after what feels like an eternity looking into his eyes. “I just wanted to see more of the world. I’ve been traveling for the past two years but I feel like it’s time to settle down somewhere.” Charles nods along, listening to every word. “I don’t know if Australia is the place for me but,” You shrug. You’ve grown and gained experiences, you’ve traveled to places you never thought you’d visit; you are happy with your life. You want to experience a different kind of thing now. “so far I like it here.”

“That’s awesome!” Charles has traveled the world too, but he doesn’t see himself leaving Monaco and his family. But he understands the desire to see new places and discover new cultures.

“Charlie!”

You both turn your head around to see the boys he was surfing with coming out of the water.

“Those are my friends. I’m sorry for whatever they’re going to say.”

You laugh, whispering a ‘don’t worry’ just before you’re joined by the four guys.

“Oi, who’s this?” A dark-haired guy asks, crouching to pet Daisy.

“That’s Daisy,” Charles answers before moving to stand beside you. “and this is Y/N.”

The four boys look between you and Charles in silence, then they’re all waving at you.

Charles leans a little closer, and you hold your breath. “That’s Dani,” He points to the same guy who asked about Daisy. Then he points to a curly-haired boy wearing a pair of pink shorts. “that one is Lando and the one next to him is Max.”

“So, how do you find my boy Charles here?” A guy with French accent teases you.

“And that’s Pierre. Don’t listen to him.” Charles sends death glares at his friend, who just holds his palms up in surrender and grins.

“We need to go,” Lando or Max? says, looking at his friend with pity and mouthing a ‘sorry’.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N!” All of them say, making you laugh. You wave at them.

Then, you and Charles are alone again, Daisy lying on the sand in front of you.

“So,” Charles starts, fighting really hard not to look at your lips. He does a very poor job because you notice anyway, and of course you can’t help but wet your lips. Well, you have to do something, you’re probably not gonna see him again. “I have to go. But it was nice chatting with you.”

You reach out, placing your hand on his bicep and squeezing. And God, okay, he’s actually fit, fit.

“It was nice meeting you, Charlie.”

Charles smirks, winking. Or at least trying to before grabbing his surfboard and walking away, it takes you a great effort to not turn around.

“Hey, Y/N?”

You’re just a girl.

Charles is walking backwards, a bright smile dancing on his lips.

“Will I be seeing you tomorrow?”

You try not to show how much effect his words have on you. “I don’t know,” You shrug. Playing hard to get now, really? “Come and you’ll see.”

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱#f1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #f1 imagine #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x you #f1 grid x reader

1K notes · View notes