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xxsabitoxx · 8 months

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How JJK Men Eat Pussy 2.0

Satoru, Suguru, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna, Yuta, Itadori, Megumi

Warnings: All characters are 18+, this post is explicit smut. As if you couldn’t tell that from the title

A/N: Funny story, I forgot I already wrote this same concept last year… but since I didn’t realize until I finished writing this… imma post it anyways. But if you’d like to see my original thoughts on this topic, you can see them here with an additional 2 characters lol

Gojo Satoru

He is relentless, especially when he’s in the mood to go down on you. These little moods of his will have him between your legs for hours, multiple times a day. You always like to joke that he knows when you’re ovulating because somehow these little moods seem to fall in sync. If Satoru goes more than three days without you, it’s like he’s going through withdrawals. He’s skilled with his tongue, he’s able to move it in ways and speeds you didn’t know a man could. Typically he’s a tease, he’ll edge you until you have an orgasm so pathetic you can’t even call it one. Ya know, the kinds where you come and don’t feel that satisfaction, just the pulsating ache of needing more. But recently, Satoru discovered how much more fun it is to overstimulate you. He loves the way your finger’s bury in his hair and try to tug him off as he sucks on your clit until you’re sobbing and begging him to ease up. He’ll keep your thighs spread wide, large hands effortlessly keeping them in place while they desperately try and close. He’s also the type to see those “pineapple make’s your cum sweet” articles and come home with enough pineapples to feed a village. He’s not even embarrassed about his reasoning, even if it’s just a myth, his sweet tooth can’t pass up the opportunity. Satoru loves your natural taste, but you surprised him with edible lubes in various fruity and sweet flavors one night… you still recall seeing the sun rise.

Geto Suguru

He’s a god at eating pussy and you can’t convince me otherwise. Suguru has always been about your pleasure over his, not to say he doesn’t have his selfish moments, but your pleasure is just so much fun to him. He loves the noise, the facial expressions, the smell, the taste. The first time he went down on you, you were convinced he was lying about it being his first time. The ability just came naturally to Suguru. Like Satoru, Suguru loves to tease you. He’ll focus all of his attention on your dripping entrance, only stimulating your clit if his nose bumps it. He loves the way you squirm, his nails leaving crescent shaped nail marks in the plump flesh of your thighs as he holds you in place. He loves your breathless gasps, his long hair tickling your thighs as he eats you out, only adding to the stimulation that’s making your toes curl. Suguru loves to make you beg, pulling his mouth away from your cunt to just barely flick his tongue over your clit. He’ll stop all together just to taunt you until you’re sobbing, begging him to do something. He has a whole album on his phone dedicated to you, most of the content being videos of him eating you out, some he even made you take just so he could see the camera shake with your effort to keep it straight and hear your noises better. He puts on a show for you, slurping and sucking and moaning just to feel your thighs tremble as you moan with him.

Nanami Kento

Eating you out is a stress reliever for Nanami… so it happens like very fucking day. Lord help me this man will spend hours edging you, cheek pressed into your thigh as he lazily licks and nips at your cunt. He can’t think about anything but you when he is between our legs, moaning and whining his name like a beautiful lullaby. He’ll let you cum eventually, but for the time being you are completely at his mercy. Nanami is the type to wake you up with his head between your legs, especially on nights where he comes home late and you’re already passed out in bed. He’ll make out with your cunt honestly, licking and sucking and nipping at your folds until he can’t tell if you’re wet from his saliva or your own arousal. The answer is both. He doesn’t care for any of the fancy shit, so don’t bother with flavored lubes or eating particular fruits to try and alter your taste, he just wants you and you alone. I feel like this man has a scent kink so the smell of your arousal honestly gets him going even more. He prefers eating you out in bed, mostly because he’s tired and nothing feels better to him than laying on his plush mattress while using your thighs as his pillow. He’s a whore for face sitting by the way, even less of his energy needs to be put into that, especially when you’re grinding your cunt against his tongue. Nanami’s other favorite thing to do is use his tie to bind your wrists, that way you really can’t interrupt him.

Fushiguro Toji

I had to restart Toji’s so many times because I got too aggressive. Listen, this bummy ass bitch will eat you out till the sunrises and he will make a fucking mess of you while he does it. Toji will eat you out and finger fuck you until you’re screaming. He’ll give you a “break” by stuffing you full with his dick and then get back to work eating you out again after he blew his load in you. Filthy bitch. He’ll eat you out anytime, anywhere, any position. He’ll never turn down the opportunity and depending on your relationship with him, this bitch may even charge you for his services. Which is just another way he likes to tease you, watching you whine and squirm while you cough up the money he wants. He’ll call you pathetic as he gets on his knees and basically rips your underwear off of you, commenting the whole time about how much of a whore you are… like he ain’t selling his body to you rn. This man will somehow make you feel inferior, but you can’t be bothered when his tongue is lapping at your cunt like a starved man. Toji will make sure your thighs and your cunt are swollen, bruised, overstimulated, and sore by the time he’s done with you. Your cunt is puffy from his sucking and biting, thighs littered in dark marks and teeth indents. He'd go as far as to find a marker and write “cum dumpster” on you if he was really in the mood to see you sob.

Ryomen Sukuna

Listen, you thought Toji could be mean? Sukuna is ten times worse. The thing is, the king of curses actually likes to eat pussy but he won’t admit it. But that is not to say he can’t live without it, Sukuna is selfish and really only prefers things that pleasure him in the process. But, when you’re sobbing, pathetically begging him to go down on you, he may just crack. Especially if you’re looking at him with watery eyes, swollen lips from sucking him off, your neck littered with bite marks and bruises. Oh, and, if you’ve made him cum, he’s more likely to agree and indulge you. If you manage to convince the king of curses to go down on you, don’t expect him to be easy on you. His nails are digging into the flesh of your thighs, blood dripping slowly as he eats you out with so much force it’s borderline painful. He’s using his tongue and his teeth, nipping at your folds and even grazing your clit with them until he can tell your sobs are a breathless mix of pleasure and pain. If we’re talking true form Sukuna, I promise you he won’t stop until you’ve blacked out. He’ll use one set of arms to hold your waist while the other set keeps your thighs spread. He’s forcefully dragging your cunt over the long tongue that protrudes from his stomach, occasionally stopping just to hold you still as he spreads you open and stuffs you with the same tongue, watching you yelp and moan as he toys with you.

Okkotsu Yuta

If you look up the definition of “pussy drunk” you’ll see a picture of Yuta. This man cannot go down on you without becoming delirious. Your body puts him in a trance, he can’t even explain the way you make him feel. Yuta is all about body worship and his favorite way to go about it is having his face shoved between your legs for hours. He’s just as vocal as you are while he eats you out, groaning and whining against your cunt until the vibrations are making your eyes roll back as you cum again. He’ll be kneading your thighs as he eats, squeezing them like stress balls and hitting nerves that send sparks of electricity all the way to your toes and all the way up to the base of your neck. Without even trying, Yuta will manage to overstimulate you until you’re unironically going cross-eyed, fingers twitching as they bury in his hair and try to pull him off so you can catch your breath. Yuta is still a bit shy when it comes to being intimate outside of the privacy of your home. But that doesn’t mean he won’t drag you into the nearest bathroom and eat you out against the bathroom stall. In this sense, he’s almost cocky when someone unknowingly enters the bathroom only to see two sets of feet in one of the stalls. Not to mention the noises are echoing. Yuta lives to see your eyes going wide from embarrassment as he doesn’t stop, your noises are uncontrollable as he tongue fucks you. The poor bastard who entered the bathroom with the intention of properly using it just muttered under their breath and walked out.

Itadori Yuji

Yuji is eager, so, so damn eager. He wants to do anything and everything that brings you pleasure so when it comes to eating you out, he’s determined to be great at it. Yuji is the type to ask you for “practice” or “lessons” which is just his way of indirectly asking if he can eat you out. Most of the time, it’s an offer you can’t refuse, because as fate would have it, Yuji isn’t bad at anything. He’s so praise focused, eyes glued to your face as he flicks his tongue along your folds and waits for you to tell him he’s doing good. He’ll slow down when your praise isn’t coming fast enough because he wants you to beg. Yuji is a sucker for adding fingers to the mix, as much as he loves making you cum with just his tongue, he sees no point in limiting your pleasure for his own confidence boost. Kind of contradictory since he likes when you beg. Yuji is also the type to wake you up with his head between your legs, just slowly lapping at your cunt while also rutting his hips into the mattress, trying to not wake you up until you’re coming. He finds it so pretty when you wake up gasping, completely unable to restrict any of your noises as you orgasm. It’s important to mention that Yuji is a sucker for 69-ing and face sitting, he loves, loves, feeling your plush thighs caging in his head. He can’t get enough of the way your body settles so nicely into him, no longer afraid of “suffocating him” by sitting all the way down on him.

Fushiguro Megumi

He won’t admit it but he loves to eat you out. Megumi is shy at heart so even if he’s been with you for years, he can still get embarrassed when telling you how badly he wants to go down on you. He’s focused when he does get between your legs, hands gripping your thighs or hips while his tongue laps greedily at your cunt. Megumi loves to tongue fuck you, just because he knows it’s not enough stimulation to make you cum but enough to make you embarrassingly wet. He’s a bit mean at first, not willing to let you come until he feels you’ve earned it. He’ll stop abruptly just to sink his teeth into your inner thighs, not stopping until you’re gasping as the pain turns bruising. He’ll admire the teeth indents he’s left on your skin while his nails are scratching down your other thigh, tongue moving to wiggle against your clit until your hips are bucking. Megumi finds toys to be very hit or miss, but he’s found a love for stuffing you with a vibrator while putting all of his attention on your clit. Megumi’s preferred method of “torture” depends on his mood, either he’ll edge you until you’re begging or overstimulate you until you’re crying. He’s very private when it comes to these things… unless he’s jealous. Much like Yuta, he will not hesitate to drag you somewhere private while out in public to remind you of who you belong to.

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forlix · 4 months

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‧ ❆ ˚ 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝・h.j.

— stars flare brightest in the absence of light, and you see his clearer than day.

words・6.4k

pairing・han jisung x female reader

genres・college!au, friends with benefits to lovers, snowed in trope, smut, MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS THAT INTERACT WILL BE BLOCKED, angst, ANGST, you have been warned, hurt/comfort, i can't write normal fluff to save my life, happy ending!!!, semi-slow burn

warnings・depictions of insomnia, recurring nightmares, graphic violence, character death (in the nightmare), fears of abandonment and falling in love, alcohol consumption, humans helping each other heal. smut warnings under the cut

playlist・stay - acoustic by jonah baker・all of me by big gigantic・babydoll (speed) by ari abdul・oasis by exo・volcano by han

a/n・hi, here's my second installment of winter falls. writing this was immensely challenging and twice as meaningful, so feedback would be greatly appreciated. thank you to my may for being so fucking instrumental in piecing together this rollercoaster—this one is for you, i love you. thanks to my sahar for everything, always and forever. and thanks to all of you for being here. happy new year ♡

smut warnings・spitplay, unprotected piv, please practice safe sex!!!, car sex, dirty talk, jisung's dick game is kinda crazy, squirting, lots of aftercare

Every time Jisung closes his eyes, he sees somebody’s back.

It’s leaving. Traipsing somewhere he can’t follow. He tries to chase it—he always does, he never learns—but the premise doesn’t so much as surface before the ghosts circling around his ankles go for his throat instead. They snare him by the shoulders, force him to his knees, slam his forehead into the permafrost hard enough to break bone. They make sure the next time he tries to move will be the last.

So he remains, keeled over in the cold, until tearwater clings to his lower lashes in small icicles. Until bloodstained snow coats his lips like the manifestation of a curse. Until the back has disappeared.

Who does it belong to? He’s left to wonder. Where is it going?

Why can’t I follow?

Then he wakes up.

No longer does he lay awake for hours afterwards, scouring the dream’s every frame for his answers.

Now, he tosses and turns in clammy sheets until his exhaustion wins.

Now, he welcomes sleep like a miracle granted by some pitying god.

You see him.

Through a living room packed with red-faced partygoers and dissected by oscillating strobe lights, albeit, but you see him anyways.

Jisung can barely make out the rest of your face—he blames the lighting, or the soju, or both—but your eyes alone turn him to glass. Not a fancy vase through which the world distorts, but a simple pane that puts him and his ghosts on full display.

He hopes you like horror movies.

Felix knows you, because of course he does, and Jisung has never been happier to call the extroverted Australian his friend than when you come over to say hi. You stumble out of the crowd all smudged makeup and sweaty skin, your figure hugged by a short black dress with two diamond-shaped openings just above your hips, your glossy lips curved in a drunken smile. Jisung immediately wants it against his mouth.

Instead, it disappears behind his friend as you pull him into a quick hug. A few wisps of your hair dust over Jisung’s arm, momentarily replacing the smells of grease and vodka with cherry blossoms and vanilla.

“Lix, hey!”

“Darling, it’s good to see you! Feels like it’s been ages.”

“I know, right? How are you? How is everything?”

“Good, thank you. Just happy the semester’s over.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Then you go to lift your drink and discover thin air in its place. “Or I won’t. Whoops.”

This prompts Jisung’s first contribution to the conversation—and his first effortless laugh in a long while.

“Eventful night, huh?”

He meets your gaze from all of two feet away this time, and his knees buckle under him. That gaze, fuck. So clear and true, like a prism of glass refracting light into a rainbow. He would let you refract him a thousand times over if he had any light to give.

“Maybe,” you giggle. “Seems I’m a little too happy the semester’s over.”

“Wanna not get a drink to celebrate?”

Your expression flickers. Not in a bad way, more like you hadn’t expected him to ask so soon—or for yourself to have your answer so quickly.

A strobe light catches right under your eye and refracts the color in your blushing face. A rainbow.

“I’d like that.”

He tilts his head towards the kitchen. You give Felix’s elbow a light squeeze before moving past him; he gives Felix a glimpse of his growing smile before falling into step behind you. The blonde shakes his head, throws back the rest of his beer, then swivels at the sound of someone calling his name from across the foyer.

Felix will get drunk enough to forget the sight of you leading Jisung up the stairs, two bottles of pink lemonade tucked under your arm. Nothing stronger, as promised.

Jisung asks his question an entire minute after he intends to. “Where are we going, by the way?”

“Somewhere I can see your pretty face without having to squint,” you reply, and his stomach tumbles like a schoolboy with a valentine.

You don’t stop at the second floor. Instead, you nudge open a door Jisung swears just materialized to his left and emerge into the night air.

It’s warm for December, but he’s still met with chilly winds licking down the sides of his neck. That’s not the only reason he shudders, though. Below his feet, he finds a metal platform akin to that of a fire escape. Above his head, a staircase that looks one forceful step away from dropping off the side of the building.

You turn towards it.

In a hurry, he sputters, “I’m, uh—I’m not sure about this.”

A beat passes. Your hold on his wrist loosens, not to let go, just to trace wordless reassurance down the back of his hand. Your fingers feel perfect sliding into the spaces between his, like drops of honey in the craters of soufflé pancakes.

“It’s safer than it looks, I promise.”

Jisung heaves a sigh. It seems saying no to you is an impossible task.

You’re right, though. The iron rungs are surprisingly rigid beneath his feet, and the two of you make it to the roof with no trouble. He does stumble when you pull him up onto the gravel, but it’s intentional, a purposeful blunder to have you closer. To snag another glimpse of that blush, another trace of that floral vanilla.

“Sorry,” he whispers almost directly upon your lips. And that earns him all three.

The next hour evades him for the most part, and Jisung is pissed about it. He’s with the woman of his dreams under a sky so clear it’s almost lustrous and he’s too shitfaced to recollect when he gave you his hoodie to wear; what you said that made his lungs capsize with how hard he laughed; how you ended up so close to each other, your legs strewn over his lap, his hands tracing over your thighs.

Thankfully, he remembers a few things. He remembers how frighteningly easy you are to talk to; he remembers your habit of smacking his stomach when you get flustered; he remembers you getting flustered a lot. He remembers the timbres of your different laughs and how your stunning features crinkle with each. He remembers feeling like a pane of glass in front of you, just like he had downstairs, and he remembers liking it, somehow. Liking the way you see through him, the way you allow him to just exist as he is. Liking the way you acknowledge his ghosts with such nonchalance, inviting them over for tea and biscuits.

He wants to remember everything about you.

It’s not often he wants to remember anything.

Eventually, your conversation comes to a natural close. In its absence, Jisung notices that the alcoholic sludge in his brain has largely diffused; with it, the rumbling bass of the party below. The full moon hangs at its highest point, blanketing the two of you with anticipatory silence, nudging you towards the only topic you’ve yet to breach.

He meets your gaze again, from all of two inches away this time, and his insides twist.

“You’re still drunk, aren’t you?”

You blink at him, not following. Then he leans his forehead against yours, lets his eyes flicker to your mouth with such unbridled want that you’re instantly dizzy—and no longer confused.

Regret pools in your eyes moments before they close. “Yes, I think so.”

Your lips are so, so close that he can feel the air shift between you when they move, can feel the soft warmth emanating from them. Jisung pulls away before he does anything stupid.

You do the stupid thing for him.

You push his shoulders to the plaster behind him, push yourself onto his lap with a swing of your body and a slotting of your legs on either side of him.

The plush of your thighs hugging his hips, the curves of your breasts pressed against his chest, Jisung tries to stare up at you, perplexed, aroused. But you’re so close that he can’t, so he settles with whispering upon the underside of your chin, “what are you—”

“Gimme your lemonade.”

The authoritative words come out in a slurred haze, and he all but hastens to oblige.

You pluck the plastic bottle from his wavering grasp. His empty hand hovers as if uncertain where to go. But matters as trivial as hand placement drop off his mind’s precipice as he watches you unscrew the cap, the slope of your neck illuminated by spindly moonlight, and without thinking he pushes his hands beneath the hem of your—his—hoodie.

The skin of your waist is warm and smooth where his fingertips are cold and calloused, the juxtaposition unimportant in your reciprocal desires to touch and be touched.

“Open,” you murmur.

His jaw goes slack, firstly from pure disbelief. Then, obedience. The dark locks that obstruct his vision of you fall away as his head meets the brick half-wall behind him, as if the midnight breeze itself mandated their removal.

You pour some of the pink liquid past Jisung’s parted lips. Stray rivulets slip down his cheek and vanish beneath his neckline. You break eye contact to follow their path with dilated pupils and fluttering lashes. With unadulterated desire.

He swallows, gently, and feels the sweet substance surround his tonsils.

He swallows, forcefully, when you wrap your lips around the bottle, the plastic still slathered in his spit.

The swig you take is long, deep. Your throat bobs and your eyes close as if you’re savoring a finely-aged nectar. Then your lips are popping off the opening with a soft thwock, leaving a thick strand of saliva to suspend, suspend, suspend until the very second it’s about to drop, which is when you collect the residue with a deft swipe of your tongue.

“A placeholder,” you breathe, and Jisung’s head careens. A shared bottle. An indirect kiss.

“You’re a monster,” he croaks.

You giggle and lean down, curling a hand around his cheek, pressing a wet kiss to his Adam’s apple.

“Tomorrow, if we’re both sober…”

One, two, three pecks up the length of his jaw.

“...and you still remember my address…”

A suckle to the lobe of his ear.

“...you can kiss me, for real.”

A trembling breath.

“And then some.”

Jisung moans, loudly.

Thankfully, he remembers a few things.

He shows up at your place shortly after sunset the next day. You swing open the door, your face already alight with your world-ending smile.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

Then he’s kissing you like a man famished.

Jisung learns to love your back, that night. He loves its dips and curves, loves its rise and fall. Loves how it arches into him, how it looks drenched in his cum. It’s the back of his dreams.

The back in his dreams keeps walking.

Jisung has never liked winter.

He has never liked its winds, whispering woefully as if mourning something unnamed and unseen. He has never liked its palette, whitewashing the world as if refracting a rainbow in reverse.

He has never liked cracking open his eyes and seeing the scenery of his nightmare outside his window. Nor does he like trudging over the sleet as if weighed down by the same ghosts that break him time and time again in his dreamscape. They love winter.

And this winter, he swears, is the bitterest yet. On the nights when he’s allowed to sleep, the nightmare comes in such sharp relief that he thinks he’d rather anything else, the ghosts meaner, the blood redder, the silhouette slower. It’s an act of mercy when he’s still awake by the time bleached sunlight perforates the curtains, resting upon his salted cheeks and balled fists.

This winter, it is not just dislike that he feels towards the gray winds—it’s hatred. A maelstrom of loathing so large and dark that Jisung no longer knows where it’s headed or what it’s directed to. Or who.

When winter break comes to an end, he’s probably the only person who’s happy about it.

His friends certainly aren’t, looking like a line of angry nutcrackers with their folded arms and thunderous faces standing outside Greem Cafe.

Jisung calls out a greeting as he jogs towards them, and cue the grumbling.

“What is there to smile about? Enlighten us.” That’s Hyunjin. “I have to deal with four finals and three essays in the next five days and this guy is smiling.”

“He’s accepted his fate, I reckon.” That’s Felix. “We should do the same, boys. Let ourselves down easy, y’know?”

“No, no, he’s smiling because he remembered to bring me his chem notes.” That’s Jeongin. “You did, right? Please say you did.”

Jisung is stunned into silence. “Can I not be happy to see my friends?”

“No,” Hyunjin and Felix reply in unison.

“My bad,” he sighs.

“My notes,” Jeongin repeats.

“I have them, dude. Let’s sit down first.”

The younger boy shouts an impassioned “THANK YOU” at the sky like the clouds just saved his GPA. Jisung reaches for the door to the café, then stops at the sound of Felix’s voice.

“We’re waiting on one more person.”

He turns towards the blonde with puzzled eyes. He’d been under the impression the study session would comprise just them four.

“Who?”

Felix’s response falters on his tongue when he catches sight of something in the distance, and his face changes in a way Jisung’s seen before.

“Look behind you.” Felix shuffles past him, raising his voice to shout, “yo!”

Jisung glances away from the newcomer as quickly as he sees her. It’s not until his eyes pivot to the fire hydrant across the street that he processes her identity.

In one second flat, his mind clutters full. He thinks back to that party, when all it took was the sight of your smile for him to theorize you were the most exquisite thing ever made. He thinks back to the next evening, when he kissed you and verified his hypothesis. He thinks back to what followed and would continue to follow in the few days that remained before break: entwined tongues and emblazoned hickeys, whitened knuckles and whiny praise, snapping hips and shaking bedframes.

This winter, Jisung swears, is the bitterest yet.

But seeing you, the scarf wound multiple times around your neck doing nothing to hide your gorgeous smile, feels like catching a fragment of summer in his frozen hands.

“Thank god,” Felix groans before embracing you. Collapsing on you, more like. “I’m saved.”

You reach around to pat the boy on the back, your eyes brimming with laughter. “Lower your expectations, please. I did well on one exam.”

“You aced the midterm. That automatically makes you a rocket scientist,” Felix corrects, his voice muffled into the shoulder of your coat. A few beats of silence pass. Then, “this is comfy.”

“Okay, okay, let’s go get some caffeine in you,” you giggle. “We have a lot of ground to cover today.”

Felix straightens up sleepily. And sadly. “Superb.”

Jisung hangs back as you introduce yourself to Hyunjin and Jeongin. He doesn’t even notice his growing smile until you’re standing directly in front of him and for the first time in three weeks there’s the smell of cherry blossoms in the air and a rainbow shining on his face again.

“Hi,” he offers.

“Hey,” you reply.

Hyunjin is the one to shatter the prolonged silence that follows. “Are you guys betrothed?”

Felix and Jeongin stalk into the café snickering. You and Jisung trail behind with flaming cheeks.

It takes Jisung two and a half hours to talk to you again. At that point in the afternoon, Felix is napping on the second practice test you’ve given him; Hyunjin has downed three shots of pure espresso and is currently viewing his screen with concerning intensity; Jeongin is at another table on a quiet Zoom call with his chemistry T.A., Jisung’s notes clutched to his chest like a life vest. And you’re leaning back against your seat opposite to him, scrolling through your phone in what he presumes to be a well-deserved study break. As good a time as any.

He opens up his texts with you. His fingers fly across the keyboard.

Jisung: do you have plans after this?

Your eyes stutter to the top of your screen, linger there for a moment, and lock onto Jisung’s from across the table.

He presses his lips into a thin line to suppress his smile. You let yours spill over in full form, and with it comes a soft giggle that would be worth getting his number fucking blocked just to hear one more time.

Three gray dots appear before elongating into a prompt response.

Y/N: I was gonna ask you the same thing…

He’s the one who laughs this time. Fuck, you’re cute. You’re so cute.

Jisung: can i take you to dinner? Y/N: Yes, I’d love that :) Y/N: When should we leave? Jisung: 9? Y/N: Sounds good~ Jisung: cool Jisung: it’s a date Y/N: It’s a date! Y/N: Excited 💛

With that, you put your phone face down and return to work, though your lips remain privately upturned. Jisung wants to kiss them again.

He also wants to turn you into a mess on his cock again.

Or both.

He doesn’t get much studying done after that thought surfaces.

Jisung: me too <3

When nine o’clock rolls around, you and Jisung begin cleaning up your work stations in near-perfect simultaneity. There’s confusion written all over Hyunjin’s and Jeongin’s faces as they watch you swing your backpacks over your shoulders—but Felix’s expression is a blank slate as he sips from his macchiato. Your ingenuity isn’t the only reason he invited you today.

As you make your way out of the café, your shoulders brush once, twice, and then Jisung drops his hand into the space between the two of you without uttering a word. You scoop it up in your own without missing a beat.

He steps into the freezing night feeling warm all over.

“You know what I realized?” You say as you walk towards his SUV.

“What did you realize?”

“We’ve never had a sober conversation before. Can we change that tonight?”

Jisung has broken hearts before.

There’s no euphemistic way to describe his tendency to abuse the sensitive organs, to wring them out and throw them away like irrelevant trash. To juggle and drop them with a sheepish laugh like they’re nothing more than props in a circus act.

He doesn’t do it to save himself or his partners from getting hurt or any self-ingratiating bullshit like that. It’s for himself, all for himself. All to unload his balls and his mind for fifteen blissful seconds.

There’s blood on his hands. He never cared to wash it off.

Except you are the one asking for his heart this time around, a dash of hope in your smile as you do so, and he thinks it would be his life’s greatest honor to be discarded by you.

“Sure,” he answers.

He doesn’t even last until he’s inside the car.

Your back meets the door to the passenger’s seat, guided there by his hands on your hips. From millimeters away he watches your surprise morph into understanding, then darken into lust.

“I like when we don’t talk, though.”

It’s the most annoying thing in the world to remove so many layers in such a cramped space.

Combined, your clothing forms a tower high enough to block out the driver’s window completely. An unnecessary blockade.

The glass fogs up anyways.

“Fuck, Ji, yes, right there, oh my god.”

You have your legs spread open and the back of your neck digging into the cupholder on the door. It’s not comfortable. You’re too busy getting fucked open to care.

Jisung detaches his lips from your neck to ask, “here, baby?”

The head of his cock hits that gummy spot again, harder, sweeter. You convulse, your hand scrambling for purchase in his raven locks.

“Yes, yes, yes, don’t stop, please.”

Please. The word plays over in his fuzzy mind.

It seems saying no to you is an impossible task.

His cock slips out of you and you lament the loss of contact with a high wail.

“W-why’d—where’d you go?”

He can’t help but chuckle at how incoherent you’ve become. He cradles the back of your head with a tender hand and lowers your upper body onto the leather seat, adjusting himself to your new elevation.

“Right here, beautiful. Didn’t go anywhere—promise—”

He expels the final word through gritted teeth as he slams into you again, and the new angle is glorious. Your bodies keen in flawless harmony. Profanities tumble from his lips in a steady stream before they turn back into syllables.

“Would never go anywhere. Would never leave without making this pretty pussy cream like it deserves—holy fucking shit, baby.”

You clench around him at his words and then he’s setting a new, relentless rhythm, rocking the whole vehicle with every hearty smack of his hips against yours, your wet walls squeezing him so dreamily he thinks he sees nirvana with every thrust.

You’re enjoying it just as much, if the bubbles of spit in the corner of your mouth are any indication, and Jisung is viciously proud to be the cause. Unbelievably lucky to feel your breasts jiggling under his chest and your nails digging into the back of his neck.

“Good?” He whispers, and you nod blissfully.

“So—good, Ji, so fucking good. Your cock is perfect, fuck, I can’t even—can’t even think.”

“You’re the perfect one. Can’t believe how well your cunt takes me, shit. It’s like it was fucking made for this.”

“It was,” you breathe, and he nearly shoots his load into you at this alone. “It was, it was—oh, god, I think—think I’m gonna come—”

“Do it,” he rasps. “Come for me. Come on this cock and it’s yours.”

“R-really?”

“Really.”

“Then, I will. I’ll come on your cock—make it mine. Need it so fucking bad, I’m so fucking close, oh—please—”

He anchors himself in place with a hand against the windowsill and the other travels down your body to rub fast, tight circles into your clit. You let out a wanton, prolonged moan, tilt your head back to expose him to your fluttering throat. And then you’re pulling his lips onto yours again, and the following kiss is sloppy beyond belief, the kind that can only antedate the happiest of endings.

“My cock,” you sigh into his mouth. “Mine.”

“Forever,” is the breathy response he doesn’t know if he means, the response he gives you anyways.

And then you curl your fingers in his hair. Clamp your teeth around his lower lip. Clench your thighs around his waist. There’s liquid everywhere. Tearwater spilling down the sides of your face. Release gushing all over his dick and pelvis and backseat.

He catches up the moment he realizes what’s just happened. Pulls out of you. Presses his head against the roof of his car. Spits on his hand. Pumps his pulsating cock. Sends himself over the edge you’ve just finished tripping over.

Eventually, he regains feeling in his limbs.

He opens his eyes, surveys the damage, and grins.

Your stomach is covered in ropes of white, your expression hidden behind your hands. You start shaking your head in profuse embarrassment the moment you feel his eyes on you.

“You squirted,” he says.

“I know,” you almost yell, and his grin erupts into a laugh.

He lowers himself back over you, takes your wrists, and removes them from your blushing face. He doesn’t think he’s seen you so flustered before and it has him palpitating in ways he never thought feasible.

Maybe he did mean the damn thing after all.

He pushes off the strands of hair clinging to your damp forehead and replaces them with a gentle kiss. “It was sexy as fuck and you’re everything.”

There’s a certain softness in your eyes when he pulls away. He hopes, for your sake, it’s all in his head.

His car is in need of aftercare most of all. You shrug on your clothes with considerable effort and get to work, all while sharing comfortable chatter and easy laughter.

Those things persist during your dinner date at a nearby Chinese restaurant and the drive back to your place, which Jisung knows well enough to no longer need his GPS. Those things persist until he kisses you goodbye on your doorstep, because he would have to be fucking crazy not to after you gave him the best night he’s had in so long.

After you reminded him that he’s still capable of comfort and ease, in spite of it all.

Snow comes a few weeks into the new year.

This winter, it falls late, and it falls hard, like a gust of breath expelled from drawn lungs at the very last minute. Held there as if lying in wait for something unnamed and unseen.

The gust of breath is too quiet to be heard over the one Jisung lets out against the shell of your ear. “Wait here.”

He goes to roll off you. You don’t let him just yet, darting your hand around his wrist and bringing his face back within centimeters of yours.

Han Jisung is beautiful. You knew it for the first time at that houseparty and you’ve known it every hour of every day since. But it’s always clearest to you in the afterglow, when his bare skin is golden and sticky and his delicate lips bitten to bright fuchsia.

When his irises have gone black and you see stars, flaring in the absence of light.

You close the distance that remains between you. Your lips part with a content sigh. Your hands drift over the slant of his neck; his find home in the dips above your waist.

He breaks away once you’re both out of breath, and the pad of his thumb wipes lightly at your lower lip.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes,” you reply shyly. “I couldn’t help myself.”

The smile this brings to his face reminds you of a candle’s flame. Soft on the eyes and scalding to the touch when he presses it back against your lips. Once, twice.

“Can you wipe your cum off me now?” You whisper, and he laughs straight into your mouth.

The mattress lifts. His footsteps grow quieter. You shiver in his absence.

Only then do you notice the blizzard.

You stumble off the bed to throw your curtains aside. Snow descends from the sky like spools of unraveling yarn. The streetlights have been reduced to foggy specks, the parked cars to blurry heaps. Every sidewalk and rooftop in sight has already been slathered in ivory.

Jisung announces his return with a disbelieving whistle.

“Am I dreaming?” You murmur.

“When did that happen?”

“I have no idea.”

You don’t even notice the wild smile on your face until you turn to him and catch his reaction to it. He looks like he’s asking himself the same question.

“C’mere,” he hums, and you oblige.

He laves the warm towel over your breasts and stomach, as well as the places his release has trickled since you flung yourself to your feet. All while supporting the small of your back with a touch fatally careful, an expression wholly adoring. All evidence of just how blurry the line between sexual escapade and lover has become in two short months.

Your ribcage fucking throbs.

“You don’t seem excited,” you say.

He finishes cleaning you off. You give him a distracted thank you, noticing the sudden shadow draped over his face like a netted veil.

“I’m not,” he answers, not unkindly.

“You don’t like snow?”

“Not really.”

“Why?”

He circles around the bed to get dressed. You bend to pick up the clothes tossed aside earlier and drop them into your hamper, then slip into a clean pair of underwear and sweatpants.

“It’s a long story.”

Just as you reach for a top, a bundle of cloth travels in an arc across your bedroom and hooks itself around the crook of your arm. His T-shirt.

You glance at Jisung. He’s already looking elsewhere, but his private smile makes its way onto your face as you slip it on.

“Well, I have time.” You sink into your mattress, now surrounded by his muted musk, his papyrus and petrichor. “We’ll be stuck here a while, after all.”

“Stuck?” Jisung repeats, the lanyard of his car keys dangling from the pocket of his hoodie, his feet turned towards the door.

A pregnant pause commences. His intentions dawn, and you gape.

“You’re not driving right now.”

He breaks eye contact.

“Right?”

That was the plan, you read in his expression.

You know better than trying to reverse a river’s current by kicking up rocks. You know better than trying to curtail the flight of an albatross by clipping its wings.

You know better than asking someone who thinks he was made to leave to stay.

And you won’t.

“I have somewhere to be early tomorrow morning,” he stammers, the lines terribly rehearsed. “The snow’s not heavy, I’ll be—”

“Stay.”

You’re not asking.

Jisung looks at you, startled, as you glide across the bed. You place your feet on the hardwood and circle your arms around his waist. Lace your fingers upon the hollow of his back. His pulse goes uneven at your abrupt proximity.

Akin to the drag of a feather, you mouth at his cheek, then the side of his neck.

“You can stay, Jisung.”

He shudders at your words, and you’ve got him.

It’s oddly normal, the sight of him clambering into your bed in your clothing—a pair of old sweatpants and your favorite crewneck—like this isn’t the first time you’re sleeping together in your two months of sleeping together.

In fact, the only indication of anything unordinary is the floaty feeling in your stomach when your head hits the pillow and discover Jisung’s face only inches away. He drapes an arm over your waist, gathering you close. You nuzzle into the crook of his neck.

The inevitable question follows.

“Can I save the story for another time?”

“Sure,” you return, keeping your voice small. He doesn’t hear your disappointment this way. “Should we go to sleep, then?”

“We should.”

Your foreheads touch. Your noses bump together. Your eyes cross, watching the adoration pull at his. You dimly register your hand threading in his fluffy locks, his thumb running over your cheekbone. Your lashes narrowly miss the surface of his eyes, and then he tips your face up by millimeters.

You don’t remember when you fall asleep. You only recall the hour beforehand that you spend with Jisung’s lips traversing yours, like you are the ocean and he’s uncovering new waters with every bruise he prints against your throat, every suckle he leaves around your tongue.

In your dream, the roles reverse and you are the one exploring him, mapping out his constellations with wide-eyed wonder.

You wake to a black hole.

For the first five seconds, you see nothing. You hear nothing. You feel nothing. You only blink in the darkness, your mind kicking into groggy gear to ask the very good question of why you’re conscious again.

Instinct moves your hand across the mattress. Empty space greets you where Jisung should be. Unfounded dread shoves your back off the bed. You gasp, the sound seeming to echo in the cavernous silence.

Your eyes adjust enough to discern light in the crack beneath your door, and you’re wide awake.

The following events go by in a blur. You stumble out of bed and into your closet, fastening your fingers around the thickest piece of fabric you find. You fly into the living room, where the lamp by the couch is left on and the pair of worn black Converse on your doormat have gone missing.

The front door is cracked open, and through the narrow inches you spot someone hunched on the stairs outside, his dark hair dyed platinum by the awning light’s fluorescence.

Your heart stills in relief, then quickens with anxiety.

You’ve tried wearing this crewneck in January enough times to know you can’t. In fact, you suspect that it somehow soaks up the temperature, lets it seep in between its every seam until it becomes one with the bitter winds.

But he isn’t shivering, you notice as you take a seat next to him, draping the puffer over both of your shoulders on your way down. He’s simply staring off into the bleak storm, snowflakes sitting atop his head like a coating of ash, their color matching that of his frozen skin. He’s becoming one with the bitter winds.

At first, you don’t recognize the man in front of you.

You’re well familiar with those ring-laden hands and the whetted jawline thrown into shadow, those remnants of cologne clinging to his frame. But you have never seen that gaze before, bloodshot and bleak and belonging to somebody new. Somebody who isn’t completely here, straddling the partition between the realms of people and phantoms.

Then he lifts his eyes and you see stars, flaring in the absence of light. Your stars.

And you recognize him for the first time ever.

You drop your hand to your hip, and his fingers feel stiff and cold and perfect, sliding into the spaces between yours.

“Why don’t you like snow?” You ask.

Jisung’s eyes return to the swirling sleet, but he moves your interlocked hands to rest on his thigh, and you know that he’s with you.

He’s been having this nightmare.

It takes place in a small clearing. It’s winter, and everything is covered in snow. Not the gentle kind that you can catch on your tongue, but the unyielding kind that’s hard and dense and covered in cracks, like a lake newly frozen over.

Somebody is in front of him, walking away. He can only see their back. He wants to chase after them. He doesn’t want to be left behind. But there are ghosts nearby, and they’ll split his skull open on the permafrost and tie his windpipe into a pretty bow if he so much as dreams of pursuit. He always does. He doesn’t know how not to.

Normally, the back leaves, and he can do nothing but remain. He can direct his loathing only to the snow into which he bleeds.

Normally, he waits for the dream to end with something bordering on boredom. He’s seen this movie too many times. He fucking hates how it ends.

This time, though, the snow tastes like something.

After the flavors deliquesce upon his tongue, his head shoots up, his eyes blowing wide as they latch onto the retreating figure. He knows who it is.

His feet scrabbles against the ice with his attempts to rise to them. He lunges forward with frenzied resolve, and that is when the ghosts snap his neck.

He wakes up.

“Cherry blossoms and vanilla.”

You blink, tearwater streaking from your eyes in silent, steaming trails.

“That’s—”

My shampoo.

A broken sob escapes you in lieu of the rest of your sentence, and Jisung laughs, a flimsy facade that crumbles when he lifts his hand to dab at your moistened cheeks and it’s trembling.

“Silly,” he murmurs. “I’m used to it now.”

“I don’t want you to be.”

“I don’t want you to cry for me.”

“You died.”

“And I would do it again.”

This response comes without an shred of hesitation.

You first realized you had something to confess, that night in the the back of Jisung’s SUV. You’ve kept it locked away for your sake and his, even moreso. You see how fear clings to him like an unshakeable wraith, and you refuse to feed the parasite.

Now, your confession explodes from its fortress in the center of your soul and rises up your larynx. You panic like an inept security guard letting their only prisoner bolt free. Is it really the right time? Do you know what to say? Have you really thought this through?

Too late. It’s rushing to the point of your tongue already. You suppose you’ll find out.

He saves you the trouble.

“Honestly?”

Your confession stills.

“I don’t know if I’m okay, and I won’t try to convince you otherwise. You’d call my bluff. You’re good at that.

“But everything feels okay when I’m with you. You see me. You allow me just to exist as I am. You make me feel human again—you make me want to feel human again. You empty my mind.”

You feel as if you’ve been ejected into space naked, griping for air where there is none.

“I never believed in having somebody to lose,” he utters, gently leaning his forehead against yours. “But I would rather disappear than watch you go.”

You cradle his jaw with shaking fingers, trying and failing to quell the violence of your emotion.

“Don’t go,” he exhales.

You kiss him.

It should feel the same as before. You reach for the slant of his neck, him the dips above your waist. You sigh into him, parting your lips, and he moves into you deeper, harder, dipping into your mouth with his tongue’s pliant swipe. But there’s something new in the way you hold each other, in the seal of your mouth against his.

The line between sexual escapade and lover vanishes as if swept off the sand and into the sea. His stars come out of hiding at last and they bathe you in their residue, light your heart aglow.

Your confession resurfaces. It wants to stargaze also.

“I love you too,” you breathe.

The night comes and goes.

The two of you spend it entangling, sweating, your lips glued the expanse of his neck and the arcs of his shoulders, writing over the ghosts’ injuries with bruises of your making.

Only when the winds have faltered outside do you attempt to rest again. You are curled up in balmy bliss, utterly depleted. Jisung’s arms around your middle and legs threaded among yours bring you that much closer to slumber’s cusp.

You attribute it to your exhaustion when he mumbles something against you, and you have no idea what it means: “Thank you for refracting me.”

Your confusion is palpable in your silence. His laugh hits the nape of your neck with a gentle puff, and he kisses the spot just beneath your ear. “Never mind.”

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp・ @automaticpersonabatpaper・@aceofvernons・@linos-kitten

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vanteguccir · 17 days

Text

Love in the lunchbox | Matt Sturniolo

Matt Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where it's part of Matt's routine to prepare breakfast and pack his girlfriend's lunchbox every day.

Warning: None.

Requested?: Yes, by @sturniozoey

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²: This tiktok inspired me to write it 🩷

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Sunlight began to filter through the half-open curtains, painting the room in soft shades of gold.

The sound of Y/N's phone alarm echoed abruptly, interrupting the silence of the morning, waking Matt who, with a sleepy sigh and eyes still closed, stretched his arm over his girl's body to turn off the device that rested on the bedside table.

His blue eyes slowly opened, finding Y/N's serene face beside him, lightly crumpled by the pillow and with strands of hair over her forehead and cheeks.

With a gentle smile, he leaned forward, brushing the strands out of the way before placing soft kisses on the soft skin of her face, spreading them across every visible space. Each touch was full of affection, as if he wanted to express all the love he felt for her in those small gestures.

His slightly dry lips from sleep finally found hers, sealing a sweet kiss over her numb ones, his beard tickling her chin slightly.

Y/N mumbled something indistinctly, still half asleep, ignoring his attempts to wake her up and just snuggling closer, sinking into the soft sheets and his warm chest. She didn't want to leave that moment, that comforting hug, but she knew she needed to start the day, or she would be late for work.

Reluctantly, Y/N pulled away from Matt and stretched, feeling completely enveloped by the feeling of warmth and security he provided. The girl slowly got up, hearing Matt's low laugh - who was watching her with loving eyes - still feeling the echoes of drowsiness, walking towards the bathroom.

While Y/N enjoyed the invigorating shower, Matt stealthily headed to the kitchen, determined to go through the motions of his daily routine and prepare his girl's breakfast. With eyes still tired from sleep, he began to gather the necessary ingredients, listening to the low sounds coming from Nick's room, who had probably woken up earlier than them - if he had even slept.

Waffles were Matt's specialty, and he knew exactly how to make Y/N's favorites. Skillfully, he mixed the dough until it reached the right consistency, adding an extra dash of vanilla. When it was ready, he placed it in the toaster, ensuring they would become golden and crispy.

While they cooked, Matt carefully cut a papaya into separate slices, arranging them on a plate with a sprinkle of oat flakes and honey on top, in the exact way his girlfriend ate it every morning. Next to it, a bowl of fresh berries waited to be added.

While the delicious aroma of waffles filled the kitchen, Matt prepared the typical black coffee, adding to the scent that surrounded the room.

When everything was ready, the boy delicately organized the breakfast on the wooden table, arranging the waffles with the berries on top above the pink plate with small heart designs, the papaya next with a spoon and a Harry Potter mug with steaming coffee.

With breakfast ready, Matt dedicated himself to preparing Y/N's lunch.

He knew that she worked incessantly at the office and that, despite having an hour's lunch break, she almost never managed to complete that time - always needing to return to her desk as soon as possible, which often resulted in her not being able to eat properly, or because of the type of food or whether she needed to buy it from a restaurant.

That's the reason why, when Matt discovered this situation a little over a year ago, he started to include the task of cooking Y/N's lunches everyday, and preparing her bag to take to work.

It's easy to say that his love language was acts of service.

Matt opened the fridge and took out some of the food previously prepared the night before - rice and seasoned broccoli, before taking out the raw steak, which he would fry at that moment, choosing a healthy and nutritious dish that he knew was her favorite and simple type.

"Good morning." Nick's voice sounded behind him, the oldest triplet opting to lie down on the couch while he waited for Matt to vacate the kitchen, as he did every day.

"Morning." Matt replied in a low tone, keeping his focus on his main task, not noticing his brother slowly falling asleep while hearing him using the many utensils.

He took a frying pan from the cupboard under the sink, placing it on the stove and pouring in a small amount of olive oil, waiting a few seconds for the ceramic surface to heat up enough for him to place the beef steak, turning it slightly and once in a while, making sure it was medium cooked.

Carefully, he divided the whole meal into individual portions and placed them in vacuum-sealed containers that could be reheated in the microwave hours later, ensuring that each one remained fresh and flavorful.

Before closing Y/N's small cooler bag, Matt took a sheet of pink post-it from one of the drawers on the counter, fishing out a black pen and writing a cute little message, expressing all his love and wishes for her to have a great day, before drawing a little heart. He placed the note on top of the containers, knowing it would be the first thing Y/N would see when she opened the bag.

With everything ready, Matt placed it next to the top of the stairs that led to the front door of the house, making sure Y/N didn't forget it.

With her work clothes already on and her hair still damp, Y/N walked out of the room she shared with Matt, feeling refreshed after her morning shower. Her light footsteps echoed down the small hallway until she reached the kitchen, where she found Matt leaning on the counter, busy washing the dishes he had used to prepare her breakfast and lunch, her eyes finding momentarily Nick asleep on the couch, letting out a nasal laugh.

A warm smile lit up Y/N's face as she approached her boyfriend, enveloping him in a hug from behind, her arms encircling his bare torso, caressing the exposed skin of his belly. She rested her face on Matt's shoulder, breathing in the natural scent of his post-sleep skin.

"Thank you for taking care of me, pretty boy." Y/N whispered, planting soft kisses along his right shoulder, up to his neck. Y/N's lips left small lipstick marks along the way, making Matt blush slightly, and a silly smile formed on his face, his blue eyes shining with love.

"All for you, petal." Matt replied, turning to look at her tenderly. Their eyes met, overflowing with love and mutual admiration.

Y/N pulled away slightly so Matt could finish washing the dishes - not before kissing his lips for long seconds, finally sitting down at the table to eat the breakfast he had prepared.

As she enjoyed the waffles and coffee, they chatted idly about Y/N's company gossip and Matt's plans for that week's videos, enjoying each other's company.

Time seemed to pass faster in Matt's presence, and soon, it was time for Y/N to go to work.

"Thank you for the breakfast and lunch, honey. I love you." Y/N said goodbye with a tender kiss on her boy's lips.

"I love you more. Keep me on your mind."

"Always, babe." Y/N affirmed, promising to think about him throughout the day.

With a heart full of love and gratitude, she walked out the door with her bag in hands, ready to face another day of work, knowing that she would have Matt waiting for her when she got home.

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My requests are open! Please read my rules before sending anything ♡

And remember to treat people with kindness always!

~ taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @sturniolowhore @mimi-luvzyu @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @hearts4chriss @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @ksskianshd @soimightlikeoldmen69 @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @ecliphttlunar @thebottledwatersupplier @soso-scarlettolivia @sturnolio-luvs @bitchydragonparadise @lvrsturn @freshsturns @h3arts4harry @patscorner @iammattswife @strnilolo

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totaly-obsessed · 3 months

Text

Cupid

Lia Wälti x reader

-> Valentine's Day with Lia and your Daughter

-> thank you @babsisbakery for the poem, and thank you @alotofpockets for the dutch translation help and conversation

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Small hands tugged at your ear, ripping you from your very much-needed sleep. Once you saw your daughter’s adorable little eyes and the excited smile on her lips you just couldn’t be mad anymore.

“Mama, we need to start!” In a whisper shout, she bounced up and down, ready to get the day going.

She was right – you did need to start. Together with Amelie, you had planned to treat your fiancée to a wonderful Wednesday. It was Valentine's Day after all.

Still groggy with sleep you let the small blonde pull you out of bed before she gave you a moment to gather yourself, as she handed you slippers that matched hers.

Downstairs in the kitchen, Amelie had already laid out her little apron and quickly pulled it over her pajamas before turning around, gesturing to you to bind it behind her.

“All done my love. Let’s start with the waffles huh?”

Just 20 minutes later a hearty and big breakfast was cooked up, and Amelie nervously grabbed the card you had crafted with her beforehand.

“What if she doesn’t like it, Mama?”

Crouching down in front of the five-year-old got harder the older you got – but never in a million years would you stop doing it.

“That’s impossible my love! Lia loves everything that you make for her. She keeps it in her cubby – you’ve seen it before!”

Technically Ames was only your daughter – but with a no-show father and Lia falling in love with both you and your little companion at first sight, she was her ‘Momie’ in every way the small blonde could wish for.

While Lia had no genetic input whatsoever – Amelia could be and look a lot like her. They had the same kind of smile and funny laugh, but their stare could be terrifying.

“You come with me?”

How could you say no to that face? So together you walked up the stairs, and the once excited five-year-old had turned into a nervous wreck, hiding behind your legs and making herself as heavy as she could.

With a quiet squeak, the door opened as you pushed it, giving your daughter a slight nudge towards the bed, where you could already see Lia trying to spy through her lashes giving it her best to hide a smile.

“Momie?” the pudgy hand that wasn’t holding the card nudged your fiancée – who continued to play dead to the world.

“Momie – wake up please!”

Like in a bad movie Lia suddenly sat up with a big smile, stretching her arms wide with an obviously fake yawn.

“Good Morning Mon petit amour!”

Amelie panicked, or rather froze on the spot – immediately turning to you with wide eyes and Lia just knew that she would flee if nothing happened.

“What do you have there my love?”

A hesitant step towards the bed and the small blonde was close enough for her Momie to grab her. The loud squeal of surprise that filled the room was miles better than the nervous shuffle of feet.

“Wrote it just for you Momie!”

With an exaggerated gasp, the brunette footballer opened the pink envelope to discover a handcrafted card. It was white and on it a big heart, that you had to draw because a certain someone wasn’t happy with her tries and had about five meltdowns because of it. It was filled with little folded-up papers in pink and purple – above the heart she had made you write “I love you to pieces” after you had tried to help with her writing.

On those little papers were reasons why you and Ames loved the Swiss, but if it came to your opinion, there weren’t enough notes in the world that could do the love you held for the woman justice.

“Oh, will you read it to me?” Lia had tears in her eyes once she saw the small poem in wriggly handwriting. She pulled your daughter to her chest, looking at the card together while you snapped some secret pictures. “I’ll help you read them, okay?”

“To Momie,

From many tantrums to always making me laugh,

You are my favorite hero, kicking ass on the pitch

And being my personal chef at home,

And finding time to play with me and my Dinos.

I couldn’t have wished for a better mom.

- Your Ames!”

Lia’s eyes were filled with tears as she pressed kiss after kiss on Amelia's messy hair. Of course, the Swiss knew that you had massively helped her with writing, but Amelia had such a way of speaking that she could definitely recognize it in there.

The five-year-old was proud of herself and whipped her head back from Lia behind you.

“Breakfast now! Come Momie – I made you waffles!”

Due to the rain last week, the fixture against the London City Lioness has been pushed to today. So after spending the day in blissful peace, it was time to go to the game. Wrangling a little excited 5-year-old girl dressed as Cupid into the car was much harder than anticipated, and at some point, Lia had to leave early.

Viv greeted you at the car as you helped Amelie out of the car. She was still a little unsure about her knee, so she opted to sit in the stands, keeping you company. “Wow – Look at you!”

“Vivi! I’m Cupid!”

Dressed in a pink and gold dress, white gloves, and a golden hairband. On her back was a pair of small, white, feathery wings – in her hands a tiny bow with fake arrows that had heart-shaped tips.

“I can see that lieve schat. Let’s get you two inside huh?”

Watching the game with a young child is always a bit different than it would be without – but you wouldn’t change it for the world. Amelia was excited for the first half, screaming her little lungs out when Lia scored from a corner kick off of Katie.

As a celebration, the Swiss imitated pulling back the string of an arrow and letting it go in your direction – effectively sending you a heart accompanied with a wink.

Your relationship was no secret by far, the brunette loved to brag about you and her daughter. And no matter how much she boasted about you, you would always blush – so seeing your already red face on the big screen gave you a fright. Viv and Ames just laughed at you.

During the second half, Amelia was busy reading a book she had brought for her. While she had gotten Lia’s athleticism she had gotten your intense love for books, and once she started, she wouldn’t stop until it was finished. Or at least she wouldn’t stop that easily.

Once the final whistle blew, the Arsenal girls winning 3-0, Viv escorted you down to the pitch – you not knowing the way was her excuse but in reality, she just wanted to see Beth. As soon as Amelia’s feet hit the grass, she was gone running around with Kyra, Alessia, and Victoria.

“Did you see my goal? Scored it just for you!” Lia’s smile was enticing and she didn’t wait long to pull you into a breathtaking kiss, only stopping once Katie fake gagged next to you.

Before she could say what she wanted to a small body slammed into her. Amelia, of course. In her hand, a beautiful white rose that you definitely didn’t bring from home.

“For me? Oh, thank you my personal Cupid, doing such a good job!”

Now down on her knees, the brunette engulfed your daughter in a bear hug – careful not to crush the cupid wings on her back.

“It’s from Rue Rue!”

The five-year-old skipped back to Ruesha Littlejohn who gave her a high five and a piece of candy while Katie could only stare at the rose in her hands. Not even noticing you and Lia nearly collapsing because of laughter.

Cupid had delivered her a rose from Rue Rue, her ex-girlfriend…

#woso x reader #woso #woso imagine #woso imagines #arsenal wfc x reader #katie mccabe x reader #lia walti x reader #lia wälti x reader #lia wälti #lia walti

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thewailingbells · 3 months

Note

Hello~~

I discovered your profile not long ago (literally yesterday) and I loved your writing. You made me more in love with Thomas Hewitt than I already am!!!

Could we have a fic where Thomas and S/O are already lovers but for some reason S/O has to leave or travel to another city for a few months and this leaves Thomas completely devastated and stressed. Even Luda Mae and Hoyt notice the change in his behavior while s/o is away and when s/o finally returns home,she has to find some way to de-stress Thomas who is dying of missing her. 😞 (No need to write NSFW if you feel uncomfortable!!!!)

(English isn't my first language so I literally translated this whole thing on google... lmao.)

Always Forever

AN: AFAB Reader. This is my first time writing smut! I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Sex, nudity, fingering, rough sex, piv, creampie, general nsfw things.

“Thomas, you know I have to go.”

Your boyfriend was standing behind you, arms wrapped tightly around your torso, and his head buried into your shoulder. Your words only made him squeeze you tighter.

“Tommy, I need to go see my family. They miss me, and I promised I would visit them for the week! I wanted you to come with me; you know that, but Hoyt said no.

He sighed, knowing you were right. His uncle needed him to stay home and take care of the house. God knows what would happen if Tommy wasn’t around.

Since you started dating him, there hasn’t been a day when you two were apart. Thomas didn’t want to let you go, but he knew he had to. He spent the rest of your time together, following you around as you packed your bags. Noon came quicker than you expected, signaling it was time for you to go.

You said your goodbyes to Luda, Hoyt, and Charlie as you walked out the door. Tommy was already outside, having carried your bags to the car. Once all of your luggage was neatly packed up, you smiled at him. You pulled him into a tight hug before kissing him. “I love you. I promise I’ll be back.”

You got inside your car and smiled at him. With that, you drove off. Tommy waited until your car was nowhere in sight to go back into the house.

“Tommy,” Hoyt said, “How’s it feel now that your bitch is gone?”

Thomas ignored his words and stomped down into the basement. He could hear the sound of bickering between Hoyt and Luda Mae, most likely due to Hoyt’s crass language.

Tommy wasn’t sure how long it had been since he had been in the basement. He just kept chopping and chopping and chopping the animal meat laid in front of him. He had been cutting meat for years now, to the point where he didn’t even have to think about it.

“Tommy! Tommy! Get up here now,” Luda Mae shouted. His mother’s voice awoke him from his thoughts. He walked up the stairs. Luda Mae looked at her boy with sad eyes. “Tommy. You’ve been in the basement for six hours. It’s time to stop now, sweetheart. Come on, let’s get you some food and water.”

The next few days, Thomas would go to work at the crack of dawn and come home hours after the sun had set. When he came home, he would wait by the door for a few moments. He thought that maybe you would have come back early, but you didn’t.

The week had gone by. You had promised him you would be back home on Monday by one o’clock in the afternoon. Thomas believed you. Why wouldn’t he? However, it became harder and harder to believe you as the hours on the clock ticked by. Tommy sat by the front door. Watching. Waiting.

Hoyt sighed and came up behind Tommy. He placed his hand on his shoulder. “Boy, I don’t know how to tell ya this, but I don’t think she’s coming back.”

Thomas’s eyes grew wide. He shook his head. You were coming back. He knew it.

“Thomas, it’s six o’clock. She said she'd be home by one. I don’t see her anywhere. Do you?”

Tommy placed his head in his hands. He wished Hoyt wouldn’t say things like that. Things that were not true. But then again, Tommy had never been the brightest. Maybe you never loved him. Maybe this was the perfect opportunity for you to escape from him. When Thomas was about to spiral into distress, he heard a car door slamming.

Thomas jumped out of his chair and rushed to the door. He opened it with such force that it nearly flew off the hinges. That’s when he saw it—your car in the driveway. He ran towards it.

You quickly stepped out of your car, beautiful as ever. You smiled when you saw him. “Tommy! I’m so sorry I’m late. I was-” Your sentence was cut off when Thomas picked you up off the ground and pulled you into the tightest hug you’ve ever experienced. You tried to wiggle out, worrying his grip was too tight, but you gave into the hug and snuggled against him. You knew he needed this.

Eventually, he put you down on the ground. “Tommy, I told you I would be back. I’d never leave you. I love you so much. I’m sorry if I made you worry.”

He didn’t say anything. He leaned down and kissed you. It was rough and passionate. Before it escalated, he threw you over his shoulder and brought you inside.

Hoyt smiled at the sight of you. “Well, would you look at that? She came back! Luda was right,” he muttered to himself.

Thomas brought you upstairs to his bedroom. He threw you on the bed and quickly pinned you down. Your faces were inches away from each other. The room was silent except for the sounds of both of you panting.

Tommy gently cupped your breast. He looked at you with pleading eyes.

You nodded. “Go ahead. Do whatever you want to me, Tommy.”

He immediately got to work, his movements faster than usual. Normally, he would take his time with you. Not today, though.

He roughly grabbed the waist of your pants and yanked them down. You let out a squeak in surprise. He grabbed both of your wrists in one of his large hands, keeping them suspended above your head. He balled your t-shirt up in one of his fists before forcefully tugging it up. He released his grip, allowing you to slide it off.

Tommy let out a desperate whine at the sight of your body. You were dressed in white lace lingerie. It was nothing much; it was very simplistic, looking like it could pass for a normal pair of undergarments. Despite that, Tommy nearly came in his pants at the sight of you.

He leaned down and nestled his face in the crook of your neck. He aligned his clothed cock with your clothed pussy. He began to desperately hump you. Tommy felt shameful; you could tell by the way he hid his face. Never in his life had he been this desperate for anything. He wanted, no, he needed to be close to you in any way. He had to show you how much he loved you.

A breathy moan fell from your lips. “Tommy, Tommy, calm down. I can take care of you.” You began to sit up. He pushed the middle of your chest, causing you to fall back onto the bed. You sighed, knowing he wanted to do everything himself today.

He pulled your panties to the side, exposing your pussy. He ran his thick fingers up against your lips to feel your wetness. He roughly put one of his fingers inside of you, causing you to throw your head back and moan in pleasure. He would usually give you time to adjust to it, but not today. Today, he immediately shoved his second finger inside your hole as well. Your back arched as he roughly finger-fucked you harder than ever before. Tommy then put his thumb on your clit, gently circling it.

Once he felt your walls begin to stretch for him, he removed his fingers. You whined in annoyance. Thomas unzipped his fly and pulled his cock out. It was rock hard and dripping with precum. He aligned himself with your hole and then fully bottomed out in one swift movement.

You mewled in pleasure. “Tommy! Fuck, Tommy~”

He immediately began to roughly pound into you. The feeling of your tight pussy wrapped around his cock drove him crazy. Your moans got louder and louder, not caring who heard them.

He reached down to toy with your clit, bringing you so close to the edge. You grabbed the blankets on the bed.

Tommy was so close. He needed to come so badly. You looked at him with lustful eyes. “I love you~ cum for me. Cum for me, Tommy.”

With one particular rough thrust, he buried himself to the hilt and came. He let out a deep moan as his seed began to fill you up. Thomas nearly collapsed on top of you. He grabbed your waist and flipped you onto him, his cock still deep inside you. Your entire body was pressed tightly against him. He wrapped his hands around your smaller frame to keep you in place.

Once you had calmed down, you sighed contently. You reached up and pushed some of his hair out of his face. “I told you I would come back, didn’t I?”

#thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt #the texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw massacre #slasher x reader #leatherface x reader #leatherface #slashers x reader

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heartshapedcigaretteburns · 3 months

Text

Situationship! Simon "Ghost" Riley

(my little princess 🥰🥰)

When you first met, Simon was very clear on the fact that any sort of commitment is strictly off the table. He just wants the company and a new outlet for blowing off some steam after missions (wink wink 😉), he's not looking for anything serious. Despite this, his possessive and territorial nature still shines through at times. While out in public together, he becomes incredibly territorial, shooting fierce glares at anyone who dares to even glance in your direction.

These tendencies present themselves mostly by him marking you up with love bites until one night they manifest in a brand new way as recently discovered breeding kink emerges 😯. On top of his non-committal attitude, Simon couldn't see himself settling down or having kids at all. He's known for years, maybe even his whole life, that kids weren't in his future. With his job and his gruff personality, he doesn't see himself being a fit parent 😕

But in a drunken haze and without a condom, he carelessly crashes into you without precautions (he says he's "gonna pull out," even though it's clearly not an effective method, but let's ignore that for the sake of the writing). And God, once he's inside you raw for the first time he just can't help himself. You're so much warmer and without the thin layer of latex he can feel just how wet you are for him. His gaze fixates on your writhing figure below him, tender and inviting, triggering a deep instinctual response within him. With each thrust, he becomes consumed, driven by a force beyond his control.

“Gonna give you a baby, make you mine. You want my baby, doll?" He grunts out, slamming his hips against yours with vigor. Fighting to say anything with how hard he's fucking you, you manage to squeak out “Fuck Simon yes. Fill me up" between moans. With a new intensity, he drives himself deeper and harder until he cums deep inside you, pressing his tip flush against your cervix. “That's a good girl, take it all, take my cum love" he praises you as he continues languidly thrusting back into you.

RAHHHHHHHSHEH I've been thinking about this HARD for the past 2 days and finally got around to writing something on it. I may or may not make a continuation where reader finds out she's pregnant. Hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! 😘😘😘

#cod fanfic #kyle gaz garrick #cod x reader #john price #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #ghost cod #john soap mctavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod smut #simon ghost riley smut

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cosmicanakin · 3 months

Text

full of surprises.

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

pairing. vinnie hacker x female reader.

outline. helping vinnie in the garage, your knowledge, and skills with cars over the years come to surface, unveiling a secret you'd kept hidden.

contains. fluff, explicit language, smut, thigh riding, fingering, pinv, & breeding kink mentioned.

authors note. while i was scrolling through pinterest, i fell down a rabbit hole of photos of vinnie working on cars. and it inspired me to write. <3

the soft clanking and muttered curses drifting from the garage pull you away from your mindless scrolling on your phone. you glance at the clock, noticing it's past midnight already. vinnie told you he'd be done working on his by now but it seems he's hit another snag in repairs.

sighing, you slide off the couch and pad down the hallway. vinnie's bent over the open hood distractedly turning a wrench, smears of grease decorating his gray tank top and forearms in a way that makes your heart flutter. you admire his toned physique for a moment, always loving when he gets hands on.

“any luck, babe?” you ask softly, not wanting to startle him. vinnie jerks up with a grimace, rubbing the back of his neck. “ah, no not yet. this damn fuel pump is being a real pain in my ass. i've replaced every other part but it just won't prime right.”

he kicks the tire in frustration earning a soft chuckle from you. striding over, you stand on your tiptoes to peer into the engine compartment. years spent helping your dad under the hoods of countless vehicles have given you more than a casual understanding.

“mind if i take a look?” you inquire, already sliding some gloves from the table beside you. vinnie gapes at you in disbelief. “i had no idea you knew about cars, babe,” disbelief colors his tone but you can also detect a hint of thrill at discovering another layer to you.

“my dad always said it's a good skill for any woman to have. now scoot over, let me see what's going on.” vinnie readily obliges, interest overtaking his previous annoyance as you step into his place. running an analytical eye, you soon spot the issue.

“ah, there's your problem. the fuel filter is badly clogged, no wonder it can't draw fuel properly. just needs a replacement, should clear it right up.” you declare confidently, removing the filter to examine. vinnie peers over your shoulder in amazement.

“damn baby girl, you never cease to surprise me. i'm seriously so impressed right now, you've got me feeling all kinds of things.” he purrs against your ear, hands sliding around your waist from behind. a shiver runs down your spine at his breath on your skin but you maintain focus, humming thoughtfully.

“flattery will get you everywhere mister, now hand me the socket so i can get this fixed,” you demand gently, holding a hand back expectantly. vinnie hurriedly passes you the tool, enthralled by your take-charge demeanor. within minutes the new filter is installed and you're reassembling the compartment.

flicking your gloves away, you turn to face vinnie's adoring gaze with a smile. “alright big man, give her a start, and let's see if that did the trick.” he grins, pressing a swift kiss to your lips in thanks before jumping into the driver's seat.

the cars roars to life on the first try, rumbling smoothly without any hiccups. vinnie whoops loudly, leaning out the window with glee. “fuck baby, you're amazing! that was the perfect fix. come here, i gotta give you a proper reward.”

giggling, you allow vinnie to tug you into his lap as he's sat in the driver's seat. his mouth latches onto your neck desperately, hands roaming your sides. “i'm so turned on by how smart and skilled you are. drives me crazy knowing you could probably rebuild this engine from scratch if you wanted,” he growls between kisses.

heat pools low in your belly at his adoring praise. you slide his hands up under your shirt, craving his touch. “mhm, maybe i will someday just to watch you swoon. but for now...” twisting, you capture vinnie's lips hungrily.

he sighs into the kiss, deepening it instantly as his tongue delves between your parted lips. you rock against his firm thigh. vinnie groans, hands gripping your hips to guide your movements.

“fuck, i need you so bad y/n. let's take this inside, i wanna worship your perfect body properly.” he breathes heavily, pupils blown wide with want. you nod eagerly, already scrambling from his lap toward the house. vinnie follows, hastily towing you the rest of the way by your wrist.

as soon as the bedroom door clicks shut he's pinning you against it feverishly. your shirt disappears followed by his as he assaults your collarbone with rough kisses and nips. a gasp escapes your throat, grabbing handfuls of his hair to encourage the delicious treatment.

vinnie hikes your legs around his waist, lifting as if you weigh nothing at all. the hard line of his erection presses relentlessly against your core through the multiple layers still separating you, seeking friction. you grind down needily, desperate for more contact.

“slow down, baby, ‘m not going anywhere,” he pants, carrying you to the bed and laying you out like a feast. vinnie quickly divests the rest of your clothing, gazing in awe at your naked form beneath him.

“so perfect, and all mine.” his worshipping words steal your breath, stomach clenching deliciously. when his mouth latches onto a pert nipple to suckle, you cry out loudly at the exquisite sensation.

vinnie takes his time lavishing each breast and curve of your body with wet kisses and love bites, mapping every sensitive spot until you're writhing and begging for more. finally his fingers dip to your dripping core, circling your swollen clit teasingly.

“fuck vinnie!” you babble, back arching off the mattress at his feather light touches. he chuckles darkly, sinking two digits into your cunt. “you take my fingers so well babygirl. bet you'll feel even better wrapped around my cock though, what do you think?”

a choked moan is your only response, eyes rolling back as he pumps his fingers leisurely. vinnie slowly adds a third, stretching your entrance deliciously full. his thumb rolls firm circles over your clit in time, driving you to the edge at an agonizing pace.

just as your orgasm begins to crest, he removes his hand entirely leaving you keening. vinnie stands to remove the last of his clothing, hard length jutting proudly from his slender hips. the sight alone could make you cum but he hasn't given permission yet.

crawling back over you, vinnie slots his cock against your dripping entrance and leans down to claim your mouth in a filthy kiss. “gonna make you feel so good y/n, fuck you senseless until you can't remember your name. that's what you want isn't it?”

you whimper desperately, nodding fervently against his lips. “please, i want to feel you so deep inside me. use me as rough as you like, i'm yours baby.” his restraint snaps, and with one powerful thrust, he's fully seated to the hilt within your clenching heat.

you cry out loudly at the relentless stretch, walls spasming deliciously around his girth. vinnie groans deeply, staying locked in place to adjust before beginning a punishing rhythm of hard, deep strokes. his hips snap violently, balls slapping your swollen flesh with each impact.

all you can do is hold on for dear life, nails raking down his sweat slicked back as he fucks you into oblivion. vinnie pistons his hips with animalistic drives, pounding directly into your most sensitive spots unerringly. a constant litany of filthy praises tumble from his pretty lips, only spurring you nearer the edge.

“fuck you look gorgeous taking my fat cock sweet girl, your pussy was made for me i swear. gonna fill you up, have your belly swollen with my babies, you want that pretty girl? want me to come inside you while i fuck my name out of that beautiful mouth?”

the depraved imagery plunges you over at last, walls constricting vinnie's member in a vice grip. your orgasm tears through you with ruthless intensity, eyes rolling back as you scream his name. he chases his own release, fucking you through the aftershocks until spilling deep within your quivering channel with a guttural groan.

collapsing together in a sweaty heap, you trade sloppy kisses and whispered ‘i love you's’ while coming down from ecstasy. vinnie curls around your sated form protectively, pressing sweet affection into any skin he can reach.

“you never cease to amaze me y/n. i love how full of surprises you are, constantly keeping me on my toes. and damn do i love when you take charge like that, so fucking hot.” he sighs contentedly, nuzzling your hair.

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mariclerc · 4 months

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Dreams and adventures by the sea | Charles Leclerc

Hello, this is the first time I write here and I like the idea of making several stories! English is not my first language so there are some translation errors, if you see one, please let me know!

Synopsis: Where you and Charles are fully enjoying the summer break with your little girl and you discover a recurring dream that he has.

Warning: None, just a little Charles fluff and Charles!dad/family man. I hope you like it <3

Sunbeams dance on the turquoise water, palm trees sway gently in the breeze. Charles Leclerc, tanned and carefree, chases a giggling Mollie along the shore. Her tiny pink swimsuit with flamingos glistens in the sun's rays as she squeals with delight and her tiny footprints disappear into the sand as the two year old girl scampers.

"Catch me, Mollie-mouse! Catch Papa!" He said as he chased after Mollie, they were running in circles.

"Dada! Dada!" She shouted with joy in her voice.

Charles scoops her up, spinning her in the air, the sea shimmering behind them. She throws her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder while she giggled.

"Careful, you two! Don't turn into sandcastles before lunchtime!" You called to them from under a beach umbrella as you smiled.

Charles grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Just practicing our pit stops, amore. We have to be ready for next season."

He plops down beside you on the sand, Mollie wriggling between you like a happy starfish. You carefully brush sand off her damp hair, her tiny fingers clutching at your necklace.

"This is the life, isn't it? No deadlines, no cameras, just family and sunshine." You said with a bright smile on your face, it had been a long time since you two had been so relaxed with your favorite people in the whole world.

"Except maybe less sand in the sandwiches, hmm?" He said while nuzzling your neck.

He winks, then reaches for a mango smoothie. You roll your eyes, but the corners of your lips rise. He's never learned to apply sunscreen, and his olive skin is already freckled with a toasty glow, but he still looks cute, as always.

"You look like a tomato patch, Charles. Don't you ever learn?" You rolled your eyes playfully at him.

"Sun's my natural fuel, amore. Makes me look like a Ferrari on the track, don't you think?" He said while shrugging his shoulders.

Mollie reaches for your smoothie, her tiny hand leaving a sticky trail. You laugh, handing her a small sip of your smoothie.

"Just don't blame me when you're peeling like a banana tomorrow."

"Wouldn't trade this sunburn for anything, not even a podium finish." He said with a smile, probably the most sincere smile you've ever seen.

He pulls you close, your skin cool against his heat. Mollie snuggles between you, her eyelids heavy with the sun and the sea. You watch the waves roll in, the sound like a lullaby.

"This is the best kind of winning, isn't it? Just being here, with you, with her."

"The only trophy I need." He said as he placed a kiss on your forehead.

He rests his head on your shoulder, and you close your eyes, breathing in the salty air, the warmth of the sun, the tiny, rhythmic pulse of your daughter's heart against your chest. In this moment, the world shrinks to just this small patch of paradise, a bubble of love and laughter, and you wouldn't trade it for anything.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Back on the yacht, the sun dips lower, painting the sky in fiery hues of orange and pink. Mollie, tired from her beach adventures, yawns and snuggles into Charles' arms. He bounces her gently, singing a soft lullaby that sends shivers down your spine.

"She's out like a light. All that beach air must be exhausting." You smiled as you looked at them.

"Don't worry, amore. We'll have plenty of time for adventures tomorrow. Tonight, it's just you and me." He said in a low voice so as not to wake her.

He winks, his eyes glinting with a familiar spark. You laugh, your heart skipping a beat each time he winks at you.

"And don't think about asking me to help with sunscreen again. You're on your own, tomato boy." You said jokingly.

"Hey! I resemble that remark. Besides, your touch is like magic SPF, amore. Keeps my skin smooth and my engine purring." He pretended to be offended by your words, but then he giggled like a teenage boy.

He pulls you close, your lips meeting in a kiss as sweet as the mango smoothie. The fire crackles on the deck, its warm glow illuminating your faces. The ocean laps against the hull, a gentle rhythm that lulls you into a world of your own.

"I love this, Charles. Just being here, with you and Mollie, although she is asleep, on the open sea. It feels like we're the only two people in the world." Did you whisper delicately.

"We are, chérie. We definitely are." He kissed your forehead with such care.

He leans back, his gaze sweeping across the vast expanse of water. He usually has a vacant look when he is very lost in thought or when he is thinking about something quite deep.

"You know, sometimes I dream about what it would be like to leave all this behind. The racing, the pressure, the fame..." he let out a soft sigh "You know, spending my days with you two without worrying if you're okay while I'm on the other side of the world."

"And become a beach bum? I'm not sure Mollie would appreciate the sand in her toys." You raised an eyebrow as you spoke and giggled slightly.

"No, no, darling, something simpler, you know sweetie... Just a small house by the sea, maybe a little vineyard...a family to raise. I know we've talked about this before, but I'd like to experience that quiet life with you." He said chuckling.

You have had this conversation a couple of times, especially the time you got pregnant, at that time you were 23 and he was 24 and you both had no idea what to do, you were very afraid. He at that time proposed the idea of leaving his racing career behind and focusing purely on you and Mollie, you obviously told him no, since one of his dreams was always, apart from having a family of his own, was to be a racing driver and leave a mark on the sport. You, for your part, when you told your parents that you were expecting Charles's baby, it was perhaps the worst thing you would have said to them, They did not take the news kindly and even told you to abort the baby, but obviously, that was not in your plans, you also wanted a family with Charles, he was always the ideal person for you. Since that exchange of opinions between your parents and you, they never spoke to you again and you did the same and honestly, it was better that way for you and your family.

Now looking back, you didn't regret that decision, on the contrary, you were grateful that it was like that since you knew how judgmental your parents are and how much they criticized you for the slightest, Charles could also experience that the times he went to visit you at your parents' house, they were not very nice to him, it doesn't matter if you had been dating for a long time.

He looks at you, his eyes full of longing. You reach out, tracing the lines of his pretty sun-kissed face. He gives you a small smile, the cutest thing you've ever seen, of course... Aside from your little Mollie.

"We already have that, Charles. We have everything we need my baby."

"Everything except maybe a little more time. Maybe a little less asphalt and a little more sand." He said as he pulled you closer to him.

He kisses you again, this time a slow, burning kiss that speaks volumes of unspoken dreams and shared desires. In that moment, you see a glimpse of the man behind the racing helmet, the boy who yearns for simple things, for a life built on love and laughter. The boy you fell in love with since you were 18 and the one who ensures the safety of his girls.

"Maybe you're right, Charles. Maybe next season, we'll find a different kind of track to conquer. One that leads us back to this very spot, with the sun on our skin and the sea in our hearts." You smiled at him.

He looks at you, his eyes filled with a promise of forever. You know, deep down, that this is just the beginning. The open sea is not just a backdrop, it's a symbol of endless possibilities, a life waiting to be written, together as a family.

And as the stars begin to twinkle in the darkening sky, you raise your glass to the future, a future painted with the colors of love, laughter, and the endless horizon.

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles x reader #charles x mom #formula one x reader

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caelivir · 11 months

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rayne ames relationship hcs (part ii)

— WARNING: creepy behavior from a guy but that’s it

— author’s note. i feel like the author’s note from when i posted this doesn’t apply anymore, but anyway, this is part two but isn’t actually because i lost the first part when i accidentally deleted my account… again im so sorry. ALSO!! the writing is a little different bc i’m cringing rereading my old stuff. (how did u guys let that slide)

— HUGE HUGE HUGE THANK YOU TO @mikadzukis FOR SAVING MY OLD HCS I AM INDEBTED TO U!!!!

rayne ames loves dates with you. he loves them.

but he especially loves picnic dates

you introduced him to the idea on one of his days off

you promised it wasn’t going to be draining because you knew being a visionary is a taxing job

so he agreed

and he loved it

spread across the red and white checkered picnic blanket are plates of grapes, cheese, and sandwiches. two goblets of iced tea rest on top of a wooden board so they can remain balanced.

rayne’s large hands support his weight as he leans back onto the blanket. the half-blonde cranes his neck to stare up at the leaves. rays of sunlight peek through slivers of space between them. a butterfly flutters its wings above him.

“rayne!” you call for his attention.

your lover hums as a reply before directing his eyes toward you, offering his full attention.

“i made something for you.” you speak, grabbing for another basket on the blanket. you lift up the cover, reaching carefully inside it. you pull out a cake platter and set aside the lid that protected the dessert residing on it.

“it’s a cake!” you continue with a smile. “this is the first time you’ve been off in a while so i thought i could make a cake to celebrate! i even decorated it with some bunnies!”

a small grin grows on the visionary’s face. he pushes himself up. rayne takes the platter out of your hand and gently places it on a free board on the blanket. you’re caught in surprise as his arms wrap themselves around your waist. his head finds warmth in the crook of your neck.

“thank you.” he whispers.

rayne’s protective of you

he knows you’re capable of fighting your own battles, but there are certain situations where he just had to take care of it

if someone’s saying things about you or harassing you, he isn’t going to tolerate that

the entirety of easton knows not to mess with you, because messing with you means messing with rayne, and no one wants to put themselves through that

he’s already scary enough as is so all it takes is a couple of threats for the person to leave cowering in fear

you wait outside of the café as rayne uses the restroom. people of all ages each other as they navigate their ways theough marchétte street. one of them approaches you, but it’s not rayne.

“so what’s a fine thing like you doing alone here in the street.” a guy smirks, trailing his eyes up and down your body. you shift uncomfortably. he’s definitely a few years older than you and inches taller than rayne. a single line cuts through his right cheek, indicating his level of magic.

you swallow down an anxious gulp before speaking. “i’m with my boyfriend.”

“tell me gorgeous,” the man’s hand travels down the path of your jaw. you’re disgusted by his touch. “does your boyfriend like to share?”

“i really think you should go.” you respond firmly, shoving the grimy hand away from your face.

the guy chuckles, raising his hands in defense. “no need to get aggressive, sweetheart! i just want to know!”

“and who the hell are you?” a familiar deep voice says from behind you. you turn around to discover rayne, and your eyes light up at his appearance. you’re well acquainted with the detachment and chilling coldness of rayne’s gaze, but now, there’s a fire behind them.

rage.

he’s pissed.

recognition becomes evident in the man’s face, and it dawns on him that he just messed with a divine visionary’s lover, but before he can retreat, rayne steps in front of you. he yanks your harasser down to your level. you don’t know what the half-blonde says, but it’s clear that it sparks fear into the features of the other man. once rayne’s finishes with him, he apologizes profusely before running away in the opposite direction.

the anger behind rayne’s eyes fade; they soften when he finds your gaze. “are you okay.”

you grin. “yeah, now that you’re here.”

rayne lets you wear his robes

whenever you hang out in his dorm, your first instinct is to go through his closet and take them

when you first did it, he was going to protest

but you looked so cute i. them that he decided to let it slide

you especially like wearing them when you nap

though you wearing his robes does pose some problems for him from time to time

“you’re late,” orter points out from his seat at the table. his fingers slide the frame of his glasses up his nose. “and where’s your visionary robe?”

rayne strolls past the desert came, not bothering to answer for his actions. he didn’t want to admit—especially to orter of all people—the reason behind his missing robe.

this morning, just as he was almost ready to leave for the divine visionary meeting, rayne realized that he was missing his robe. the half-blonde searched ever crevice of his dorm but to no avail. rayne sighed, reaching the conclusion that you accidentally took it.

yesterday, he had to run a quick errand while you were napping. upon his return, rayne discovered that you had left. you scribbled a message on a notepad, explaining that you didn’t want to keep intruding. you were probably too tired to realize that you had his war robe in your possession.

rayne could waste any more time making a trip to your dorm. it was a bit of a distance from his. the best decision at the moment was to let you have it and attend the meeting without it.

that is how he ended up in this situation, late and stuck sitting next to ryoh.

“y/n has your robe, don’t they?” ryoh teases in a whisper. for some reason, ryoh had discovered rayne’s relationship with you. whenever the two visionaries crossed paths, his senior never fails to mention you.

the sword cane doesn’t respond. “that’s a yes, isn’t it?” ryoh continues with a shit-eating grin. he pokes the arm of the boy next to him

rayne inhales. gods, he was not going to hear the end of this.

whenever you and rayne are apart due to his job as divine visionary, you communicate through letters sent by owls

he talks about the places he’s at and shit talks the people he doesn’t like

you tell him about you classes and how things are back at the academy, especially things going on within the adler dorm

and you occasionally give him updates on finn because you know deep down rayne cares about him

an owl lands on the sill of the open window of rayne’s temporary room. the animal clamps down on an browned envelope placed in its beak. rayne approaches the bird, and it drops the letter into his hands before flying off.

the mattress of the bend sinks under rayne’s weight when he sits on it. he unfolds the piece of parchment in his hands unsealing the envelope. his eyes scan down the letter that reads:

dear rayne,

how’s your trip? i hope nothing’s gone bad. things back at easton have been the same as usual, but it’s not that fun without you here.

classes are boring, but that’s nothing new. i might rip my brain out. i’ve been baking to try and cope. by the way, when you get back, you have to try this cheese tart i made. i had your brother and a friend of his try them. they seemed to like it a lot. i don’t know the name of the kid yet, but he wants me to make cream puffs next time. he says they’re a lot better than cheese tarts so you’ll have to try those too.

speaking of finn, he’s doing extremely well. he’s making lots of friends which is really nice to see. he always seems nervous to talk to me though. am i intimidating or something. i don’t think i am. unless you’ve been saying some things about me then i think we’re gonna have a problem…

gods, i miss you so much. come back soon. i’ll be waiting for you always. take care of yourself and don’t stress too much. i love you.

- y/n

p.s. please get me a souvenir. thank you! i love you, again.

rayne stands up, finding a sheet of paper and a quill. he pulls out a chair by a table. a slight smile flashes on the visionary’s face as he writes back to you—his home.

#anime #manga #mashle #mashle magic and muscles #mashle x reader #rayne ames #rayne ames x reader #rayne x reader #from kor ; ♆

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atokirina-writings · 1 year

Text

“I remember his hands, and the way the mountains looked.”

Neteyam x Omaticaya Reader (Fluff, SFW)

• Neteyam is aged up he is around 20 and Y/N is 19 (Established Relationship)

Synopsis: Neteyam takes you to a secret spot on Pandora, just to be alone with you.

• Authors note! This is my first work in over two years my writing skills have gone 6ft under so bear with me. Feel free to submit any request you have. A masterlist & my rules will be coming out soon. Please support this as I am trying to grow my blog. Sidenote this fic is inspired by Sades song and you’ll see the inspiration if you squint.

“I have somewhere I want to show you” Neteyam says.

He grabs your hand and leads you to his ikran, and you call yours to you. When you hear her response from above you look up to see your beautiful girl as she lands in front of you.

Neteyam watches you as you admire your ikran, he has always adored the way you care for the na’vi and all of Eywa’s creations. How could you just stare at something and look so damn beautiful he wonders.

You and Neteyam have recently mated and you couldn’t be happier with the life is treating you right now. Waking up next to him, flying with him, even the simple things like hunting for food with him. Everything has more meaning now that you two are together. Bonded. Mated for life.

“What is this all about my love, where are you taking me?” you ask eyes full of curiosity and love for your mate. He hops onto his ikran and you follow his movements. “You will see when we get there y/n, it is a place i’ve discovered and I want to share it with you.” He replies with a smirk on his face, and with that you’re off.

You fly with him side by side, admiring his sun kissed face and the wind blowing through his hair. Occasionally drifting your ikran into his, earning a laugh from him. You’ve been flying for at least 45 minutes and don’t recognize the new area you’re in, nothing but the lush forest beneath you.

“We’re here!” He yells over the loud sound of wind in your ears. His ikran dives into what looks like just trees. What is this boy up to you think to yourself. It isn’t until you follow and break the forrest barrier of trees that you realize where he has lead you.

A gasp escapes your lips as you break the bond between yourself and your ikran. Looking around you see the bioluminescence of Pandora’s plant life underneath the moonlight and a beautiful fresh waterfall and spring. Overwhelmed by the beauty of where you are you turn to your beloved Neteyam to find he’s already looking at you. He grabs your hands in his bringing them to his lips, planting a short and sweet kiss. “I discovered this place hunting one night and I immediately knew that I had to share it with you.” Neteyam says with the most pure smile on his face staring into your eyes. “My Neteyam… it is gorgeous I-” You can’t even be bothered to complete your sentence as you take in that you are truly here, with him. Neteyam releases your hands and places his firmly your waist, pulling you into a sweet kiss. Your lips part and you rest your forehead on his.

“I see you y/n.”

“I see you Neteyam.”

Playfulness possesses your body as you run to the body of water, diving in head first. Neteyam following right behind you. You rise from the water with a splash and don’t see your mate, confused by this as you don’t see him anywhere else. That is until you feel yourself being lifted in the water from below siting on Neteyams shoulders. “AAARRRHHHHH” He growls trying to imitate an animal of some sort, a laugh exploding from you as he leans back dropping you into the water.

Things like this remind you of simpler times. The memories of you two growing up and having play dates without a care in the world. After a while of swimming you and Neteyam find yourselves sitting on the edge of the pool. Admiring him as the light shoots diamonds from his eyes reflecting the bioluminescence of the forest. “Y/n I am so happy to be here with you right now and share the beauty of our planet with you, I just- I just love you so much and I just can’t see myself with anyone else but you. I wake up and thank Eywa for you each day.” He says with a hand on the side of your face and the other resting on your thigh. Feeling heat in your face from his words you look down at the water, his hand then cups your chin forcing you to look at him. His eyes are filled with nothing but adoration and love for his perfect mate. You. “Aw Neteyam.” You sigh. “I love you too, thank you for showing me this place. I thank Eywa everyday for you as well.” You scoot closer to him, head resting on his shoulder looking at the area around you with his arm around you. Hand rubbing small shapes onto your arm. “I can not wait to show our kids this place someday.”

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strawberryspence · 1 year

Text

Because I am obsessed with the famous trope here’s another one that kept me up all night.

Steve and Eddie dated right after Vecna in ‘86 and it’s perfect. They date each other and it’s like two puzzles clicking together. But they’re young, foolish and they both have mountains of trauma. And sometimes, the passion and love, just isn’t enough to keep a relationship going.

They have a messy break up that has Eddie packing all his stuff up in ‘88. Eddie goes to LA or New York, either way that’s where he gets discovered. He then goes on to write some very angsty and angry rock/metal music about the break-up that gets him up on the map.

Steve hates it. He hates it with every fibre of his soul because it’s one thing when you and you ex still have the same friends and have to be civil with each other, but it’s a whole other thing when you open the radio and this man you dated, this man you loved and cared for and failed is just out here singing it for the whole world to hear.

And yeah listen, it’s petty and dumb. But Steve writes his own fucking songs, it’s not the direct response to Eddie’s song but it’s close. By that time it’s already ‘90 and Eddie’s made a whole name and career out of their relationship. Steve writes the songs, he sings, and he sends the damn demo to almost fifty different companies. And he gets picked up by one company.

Steve takes the pop star route, and with his looks and his somehow amazing vocals, by ‘94 Steve’s on the charts with Whitney and Mariah. The whole Party has solemnly promised to not get involved with their petty songwriting fighting anymore. They also haven’t spoken in person in almost six years, and the only way they communicate now is through the freaking songs.

There’s not a lot of overlap with the rock and pop community, and no one notices it until ‘05. It’s one fan that makes this one blog post talking about this weird freaky coincidence in Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson’s songs. It becomes a whole thing, like someone from Hawkins pulls out the yearbooks and finds out that they could’ve known each other. Their faces are splashed together into every magazine and celebrity entertainment shows.

They don’t say anything about it. No one comments about it for a few years and it infuriates the public even more. The next time Steve comes out with a song, Eddie comes out with another song a few months after and it’s once again a literal conversation about their relationship.

The whole thing continues until ‘11 and by then there’s blog dedicated for all the clues. It’s now a long running thread, and it gets updated when there’s another clue to this massive confusing puzzle. There’s a whole subsection with names of every Party member and how they connect the two artists together. There’s freaking flow charts and pictures and family trees.

It only ends when Eddie finally posts two pictures on Twitter. The first one is taken backstage. All you can see is Steve’s back, but you will know it’s him because of his hair. He’s standing at the side of the stage, and on the stage is Eddie Munson singing. The second one is a picture of Eddie sitting in a couch as Steve looms over him, hands crossed on his chest. Eddie’s signing his own album with a smirk, while Steve glares at him. If you zoom, you can see the sign on the album saying, “To Steve. This album is for you.”

The caption says: “Me and my biggest fan. Circa 2004.”

Steve replies to the original post saying: “You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

Eddie deletes the post and reposts it with: “Me and my wonderful, gorgeous, talented husband. I can’t believe I am married to THE Steve Harrington.”

It’s the first time the term “break the internet” is ever used.

Turns out, they were just writing the songs to spite each other and to add fuel to the fandom fire. (In an interview, Eddie says, “It’s our foreplay.” and Steve doesn’t talk to him for a solid 30 minutes for running his mouth. It only lasts for 30 minutes because Eddie made it up to him by using his mouth for something else.)

#HA #i love famous steddie #theyre so petty #also dont come for me #i dont know where the ‘break the internet’ term came from #so dont get mad #anw #i love them #steddie #daeheadcanons #steve harrington x eddie munson angst #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie ficlet #steddie headcanon #steddie hc #famous steve harrington #famous eddie munson

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slytherinboysappreciation · 1 month

Text

Adoration - T. R. x fem!Reader

A/N: this has been sitting in my drafts for a while so I figured I’d post it. It’s unedited and my first time writing a sex scene so please be nice 💛 No use of Y/N. Reader is Dumbledore’s daughter. Tom is in his seventh year for this fic

Infatuation, the second part, is here

CW: Angst, so much angst; religious trauma, I guess?; Dumbledore bashing; mentions of devils; mentions of past physical abuse; trauma related to masturbation; crying, nausea, shame, and self-hatred related to masturbation; hurt/comfort kinda; praise kink; uhhh I think that’s it. Please let me know if I missed anything!!!

Does contain mature content so NO MINORS PLEASE!!! Just keep scrolling!!

999 words

Tom hated Dumbledore. The professor reminded him too much of the priests at the orphanage. The ones who smile and pretend to be your friend, but are never there when you truly need it.

Tom hated Dumbledore. The way he so obviously played favorites while blatantly denying doing so. Slughorn was an annoying professor, but at least he admitted to his favorites.

Tom hated Dumbledore. The way the man looked as if he knew something Tom didn’t. It got under his skin; made him itch with discomfort.

But no matter how much Tom hated Dumbledore, he hated his daughter more.

You’d been his first true connection to the wizarding world. You’d been there that first day, when Dumbledore had come to visit Tom in the orphanage.

You’d stood quiet and docile as Dumbledore told Tom about his magic. Tom had listened, of course. But it wasn’t until he was alone with you later that he truly believed.

You’d sat on the edge of his rickety bed, while your father had gone to discuss things with the orphanage nuns.

“They call me a freak,” Tom had said quietly. “They say I’m possessed by the devil.”

You’d looked at him. You, with your lovely wide eyes and sweet trusting smile. “What’s a devil?” You’d asked, so earnestly. “Your magic is special. See? I can do it too.”

You’d held out your hand, concentrating. A small flower had bloomed in your palm, sprouting from nowhere. And Tom had finally believed.

Believed you and your stupid smile. Your darling sweet manner. Your soft-spoken words.

All the things he despised about you now.

Despised… and adored.

Tom could not get you out of his head. You haunted him. Hounded him. It was maddening.

Every morning you’d smile so sweetly at him. You’d laugh or say something silly and inconsequential. And it would stick in Tom’s head all day long.

He couldn’t stand it!

You were nothing compared to him. He was Tom Riddle, the newly discovered Heir of Slytherin! The future ruler of the wizarding world! Voldemort!

You were the daughter of a half-witted buffoon who’d abandoned Tom as soon as he’d gotten to Hogwarts.

And yet, he could not get you out of his head.

Like now.

He’d been in the library, trying to study peacefully when you’d approached him with that smile of yours. You’d needed his help getting a book down.

Of course he helped; he could never truly end up saying no to your smile. Just another fact he hated.

But he’d stood too close to you while getting down the book, and he’d accidentally brushed up against you.

And now he was in his room, angrily trying to will the erection you’d unknowingly given him away.

It doesn’t work. Not after five minutes, not after ten. The memory of your blush and sweet smile was too much.

Tom can’t stand this. He has a meeting with one of his teachers in an hour!

So there’s only one thing to do.

Tom settles back into his bed, exhaling heavily. This has rarely been a pleasurable experience for him. The nuns at Wool’s were strict in their devotion to chastity. Even with the boys.

Tom’s been beaten more times than he can count after being caught trying to get some relief. So he avoids it until absolutely necessary.

And now he’s having to do it, all because of your horrendous smile.

Tom unbuckles his pants, glancing at the door to double check it’s locked. It is.

Tom takes his time pulling out his cock. Rushing feels too much like being back at the orphanage.

He grimaces at the sight. Too many bad memories are associated with what he’s about to do.

With a deep breath, Tom closes his eyes and clears his mind and wraps a hand around his cock.

The self-loathing hits after the first few moments. It’s strong enough that he falters, wanting to vomit.

But the need for release is stronger than his hatred. He continues on, swallowing down his nausea.

Every moment is like torture. His mind conjuring hateful words about himself, while his body aches with pleasure.

He starts to cry; silent tears pooling in his eyes. It’s too much. The hatred. The disgust and shame.

Just as he’s about to let go and give up, a new thought enters his mind. A smile…

His frenzied mind attaches itself to the thought like a rabid dog. Before he can even comprehend the switch, Tom’s breath is taken away.

There you are, in his mind. Sitting at the edge of his bed, smiling.

He stills immediately, but your smile isn’t mocking. It’s… peaceful.

“Silly boy,” you murmur, in his mind. “What are you so worked up about?”

Tom swallows, shaking. “You,” he whispers.

You laugh, soft and teasing. The sound makes Tom ache.

In his mind, you reach out, fingers feather soft. You grasp his cock, that ever-infuriating smile on your face.

“Silly boy,” you coo. “It’s as easy as this.”

As your imaginary hand glides along his cock, his own hand does the same. Tom whimpers. It feels incredible.

He starts to speed up, panting as your imagined self murmurs encouragements to him.

“That’s it,” you whisper to him. “That’s my good boy.”

“Your good boy,” he repeats, breathless.

You laugh again, your voice so achingly soft. And Tom cums so hard his ears ring.

He hunches over, gasping for breath. You’re gone now. His thoughts flit around aimlessly. What had just happened?

He lies back, gazing up at the ceiling in shock. He’d just— You’d— You.

He’s made a mess of his pants and bedsheets. But this time, the shame and self-hatred are overshadowed by a sudden rush of annoyance.

Of course it would be you. You, with your smile and laughter. You, who he cannot rid from his brain as much as he tries.

You.

He cleans himself up, too busy plotting how he can get his revenge to feel ashamed at the mess.

#tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle smut #reader is from an unspecified hogwarts house #please don’t be mean to me over this #divider by cafekitsune

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honey-flustered · 1 year

Note

can i request mirror sex with eddie and wayne hears banging and barges in and talks to you guys about protection

A/N: Apologies for the long wait, love. But I’m here and slowly getting my writing mojo back. I hope you enjoy!

Wrap it Up! (MDNI+18)

Boyfriend!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.4k+

Warnings: smut, mirror sex, graphic language and descriptions, sex standing up, getting caught, creampie (cum gets everywhere), awkward conversations about (sex, pregnancy, protection), Eddie & Reader 18+, some humor, fluff

Despite Eddie’s lean frame, underneath that hellfire club T-shirt was all muscle and you have the perfect advantage to study every ripple and bulge. You’re eyes are hazy but intense as you stare at the image before you in the full body mirror: Eddie’s back, slick with sweat, flexes with every stroke into your sopping core as he fucks you standing up. The muscles rippling in his cute little ass was enough to pull one hand away from his hair to cup it.

Wayne invited you over for dinner as he did every night. And sometimes on the days when he’d have to go shopping for groceries, Eddie would occasionally stay over to “prepare the ingredients” but really it’s just an excuse to have you over his place earlier so that the two of you could fool around. Hence, why now you were in this position discovering your new mirror kink.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” You whine in his ear then bite on the soft lobe.

“You feel fucking incredible, baby,” His hoarse, raspy gasp into your ear causes you clench tighter around him and he hisses. “You’re killing me.”

“Want you to cum in me. Please, daddy.”

“Oh, yeah?” he said says knocking against the magic button within you. “You’re on birth control now?”

“No. But I can take a Plan B. I just want to feel your cum in me. Want it dripping down my legs.”

“Oh, fuuuck.” His nails dig into the soft, plushness of your ass as he pounds into you harder and faster, the sounds of your wetness and bodies colliding fill the room. It’s loud and so were you as you groan a throat-tearing groan at being filled so deliciously over and over.

He bends a little at the knee, throwing you up in his arms enough so that he can get your legs in a position where your feet are beside his ears, the anklet he’d given you on your first year anniversary dangling near the left one. The new position allows him to drill into your greedily suctioning pussy deeper and you thought you were loud the last time. You were screaming as if you were in a goddamn horror movie and he’s just staring you down fiercely wanting to elicit more sounds out of you. Your eyes dart back to the mirror nearly cumming at the sight alone.

Feeling himself about to reach his climax, he climbs into the bed on his knees with him still nuzzled inside you for the final strokes. The backs of your knees now hooked around his shoulders as he curls into you enough to bounce you in his lap and suck and twirl a tongue around one of your hardened peaks.

“Oh my god,” You whine. With one hand still across your slick back guiding you up and down his length, he brings the other between your bodies to massage your swollen clitoris. “I’m gonna fucking cum for you!” Sobbing with legit real hot tears streaming down your face, your orgasm slams into you like a fucking bus and your gushing all over him and you. His unruly public hairs matter down by your creamy arousal. He intensifies your high, slamming into your g-spot and not once giving you a break to cope. You dig your nails into him, the whites of your eyes are all he could see.

“Gonna cum, baby. Ready to take it.”

As if you could speak! You babble and cry out in response. He slams you down once…twice…three times and just as he’s about to fill you up—

“Edward Munson, you know how to work this damn pho-Jesus Christ!” Wayne Munson, coming home from a long trip to the store, expected to walk into his nephew’s room seeing him do anything from playing his guitar to reading one of his comics. What he hadn’t expected was not only had Eddie not set up the table for dinner but he finds Eddie doing you.

Eddie’s horrified that despite thinking that the intrusion was enough to stop his climax it was already too late. His orgasm raked through him forcing himself to bite on his lip to keep from whimpering as he spurts ropes of his warm cum into your inviting gummy channel. But you jump out of his grasp as fast as it happened, forcing his essence to coat anything in close proximity.

Wayne has long averted his eyes before this point, raising his hands out over his face. “Dear god! You could’ve at least put up a sock or something, boy.”

“Oh my god!” You find a throw blanket beside you to bury yourself in.

“Wayne!” Eddie shouts, shoving his exposed cock down between his legs. “What the hell are you doing here so early? Didn’t you have to run like a bunch of errands and shit?”

“I just needed to get some wine and cigarettes, ya nut. Just gather yourselves whenever you’re ready.” He blindly searches for the doorknob and shuts the door.

“Holy shit,” You throw the blanket off of you, standing to go in search of your clothes around the room. “How am I going to face him now after he’s seen us like that?”

“It’s not like he doesn’t know we’ve been having sex.”

“This is different! This is him actually seeing it for himself. I can never look him in the eyes again,” You reach for your panties thrown on his dresser, hoisting up and over you. “I should go home.”

“No, please stay. We can act as if nothing ever happened.”

“How? I’ll be burning up with embarrassment the moment I see him.” You groan and flop down on his bed, your face down on his pillow.

“Long as we don’t speak of it, it’ll blow over,” Eddie says, looking down at the trickle of his cum between your legs and the mess he made all over himself. “We don’t say a word about this even outside this trailer.”

You chuckle, wanting to lighten the mood. You ran a finger on one of his painted thighs, scooping up the thick white substance. “I don’t know. I think your friends would love to hear about your little mess even after getting caught.”

“You’re a menace.”

————

Throughout, preparation of the dinner neither you nor Eddie said anything. Not even to each other. Simply, hanging your heads low while he prepares the table and you spiced up the sauce for the pasta. Wayne is also occupied with his own chore of tending to the pasta and making no efforts to speak as well, avoiding all eye contact. It was an overall awkward affair for all parties.

At the dinner table, the three of you ate in silence. Eddie, rubbing a hand on your knee as you continued to blush profusely and hang your head low.

“Alright, I’m just gonna say it since we’ve already found ourselves in this awkward position,” Wayne says, throwing down his glass to break the silence. “In the countless times I’ve had to clean up your room, never once have I noticed a condom wrapper. So my question is, do ya wear protection?”

Eddie chokes on his drink. “Dude!”

“What? It’s a valid question. As my responsibility as your legal guardian, I should’ve had this talk with you long ago. So, it’s on me. But if the two of you are going to engage in these…activities, you should at least be safe,” Wayne says, carrying the tone of a concerned parent. “So how do ya do it?”

“Do what?” Eddie asks in hesitance, dreading the upcoming next set of questions.

“Prevent pregnancy. Birth control? Morning After Pills? Pull out method?” Wayne probes.

“I cannot believe this is my life right now.”

“Don’t shy away now, Eds? You’re a man now and you’ve gotta have these grown man conversations.”

“Mr. Munson’s right, Eddie,” You speak up, bringing your eyes up for the first time in the entire night. “We have been a little…risky.”

Wayne nods. “Having a child is a huge responsibility. I would know. I took Eddie in when I was pretty young myself. And you’re starting university soon, Y/n. On a full-ride. I’m sure that’s not something you see for yourself as of now. This isn’t to come down hard on y’all. Again, I was young once. But please for the love of God, use some form of contraceptive and learn to lock a goddamn door.”

“Okay, yeah we will.” Eddie affirms.

“Yes.” You agree.

“Good. Let’s shake off the tension now. I’ve already erased whatever that was from my memory so you two can stop acting like you’re walking on eggshells.”

The three of you join in laughter and move into conversation aside from the embarrassing moment. Although, later on that night while you were busy collecting the plates from the table, in one instance of a proud uncle moment, Wayne secretly gestures Eddie for a fist-bump. Eddie mischievously smiles and obliges.

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timmyyyturner · 1 month

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Pretty little things: Jason Todd x Fem! Reader

Jason always noticed the little things. The way your nose scrunched up when you were disgusted, the little shake of your leg when you were nervous, the way you pawed at his arm like a puppy wanting attention, the way you wrapped yourself in a blanket when you were cold and he wasn't there for you to cuddle around him, the little kiss you pressed on his forehead when you thought he was asleep. He loved all of that pretty little things but they're was one thing he favored, the little note you left in his lunch, even when you were upset with him you still gave him a note. It usually went :

Have a good day, baby :) I love you ♡

I'm mad at you >:( but I still love you <3

Some days were different though, like when he couldn't make it on your anniversary or his birthday.

Happy Birthday Baby ☆ I love you, my favorite boy ♡ P.S. Birthday head when you come back?

Happy Anniversary Baby, I love you ♡ P.S. Anniversary sex after work?

Today, however, looking forward to reading your little note discovering there was no note in his lunch bag. He was confused, you'd been doing this for years. Why would you stop today? Jason got up and started packing up.

"Hey Jay, Can you-"

"Nope, going home." Jason stated, walking out the door, getting in his car and driving home, stopping to get you flowers. He opened the door, removing his shoes and walking to your bedroom. "Y/n!" You immediately got out of bed when he stormed in. "Jay, you're early." You smiled before he practically jumped in your arms. "Woah, are you okay?"

"I'm sorry." You were confused. "About?" He started smothering you in kisses. "Jay." You giggled, he stopped, hugging you tightly. "I know you're extremely mad-"

"Mad? No, baby. I'm not mad." You smiled. "You're not?" He pulled away slowly. You shook your head. "No, baby. No, I'm not." He pressed a long needed kiss to your lips. You pulled away to breath. "Wait, Jay. Why'd you think I was mad?" He sighed. "You didn't leave me a note this morning."

"What're you talking about?" You ask with a chuckle. "Those little notes you put in with my lunch." You smile, eyes softening. "I didn't think you care about those I figured you just threw them away." He frowned.

"What? No. I still have the first note." You smiled tearing up. "Jay." You kissed his cheek. "But I don't understand, I did write you a note this morning." You reassured him. "Then where's my note?"

"I don't know, I was in a rush this morning but I remember writing it." You got up, walking to the kitchen, him following you. "I'm sorry, Jay. I forgot to put the note in your lunch bag." He immediately pressed a kiss to your lips, muttering a little "I love you"

#jason todd #jason todd comfort #he makes me so soft #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x reader #red hood #timmyyyturner

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talesofesther · 1 year

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love the way you love me

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Summary: You navigate through a relationship with Wednesday, slowly discovering the tenderness of her love.

A/N: This is a valentine's day special. It's not even valentine's day where I live but Tumblr got me in the mood for it, so I wrote one of the most heartfelt stories I've ever done I think. Soft!Wednesday because I said so. <3

Masterlist

"Wednesday," you gasp. It falls on deaf ears.

Your eyes are closed. You can feel surprisingly warm hands sneaking under your shirt, lightly clawing at the skin there.

"Wednesday," you try again, the words are muffled against burgundy lips.

Your hands can't help but bury themselves in silky black hair.

She's addictive. She'll be the death of you.

And she's going to love every minute of it.

"You talk too much," Wednesday whispers against your mouth, her lips brushing yours.

You kiss the words, causing your nose to bump into hers before you pull away, "Weems will have my head if I'm late again today because of you."

If you try to tell this secret to anyone, they won't believe you. In some sense, you love it. She feels yours to keep, only yours.

She pulls back, hazy dark eyes piercing into your soul. All lightly swollen lips and flushed cheeks. She's divine.

"A well-worth sacrifice, don't you think?" Wednesday ducks her head, partly hiding herself behind her bangs after she says it.

A year ago, when she first stepped foot in Nevermore, she promised she wouldn't get attached or fall in love.

For a little over two months, her growing feelings for you have been proving her wrong.

Hidden behind closed doors and dark corners, you managed to get her cold heart beating harder than ever.

She despises it, and at the same time, can't get enough of it.

You bring a hand up, your thumb brushing away the smudged lipstick on the corner of Wednesday's lips.

She leans the tiniest bit toward your touch against her own volition, her nails making half-moons on your skin.

"You're a bad influence on me, Addams."

You can feel the shape of her smirk under your fingertips.

"It's what I do best."

—

Once a year, Nevermore's hallways gain a burst of color to them. What usually is all dark wood and grey stones, takes on extra shades of pink and crimson red; paper hearts are stuck to the walls and roses cover the gardens of the school. All in time to strike a cupid's arrow through the student's hearts for valentine's day.

You walk beside Bianca on the quad, smiling softly at the pink ribbons that decorate the outside area.

"I think I already regret offering to help with the roses," Bianca complains with a huff, "valentine's day is only tomorrow and we already have more than one hundred of them to deliver."

Her frustration makes you chuckle, an 'I told you so' lingers on your tongue yet you refrain from saying it. "Look on the bright side, you're helping to spread the spirit of love," you tease.

The siren scoffs. She comes to a stop in front of a red table, 'Nevermore's roses' is written on the bulletin board just above it in cut-out pink letters.

It's a tradition as much as it is a popularity contest in the school. Every year, students would send their crushes a red rose; some are bold enough to write a note declaring their love, some prefer to remain anonymous.

Bianca received more than ten roses last year. You got one, but Enid's proud smile had let you know it was just her attempting to soothe your heart; not a secret admirer.

"When are you gonna tell me to deliver your rose?" It's Bianca's turn to tease you, a grin playing on her glossy lips.

"Not today, that's for sure," you cross your arms over your chest, gaze skimming over the quad until it lands on a certain Addams girl; she's glaring at the colorful ribbons that adorn the walls as if they just committed unspeakable crimes.

You find yourself unwillingly smiling just at the sight of her.

Bianca catches your staring, she leans in closer to your ear, "I bet she would swoon."

You push her away, giggles escaping your lips and heat coming to your cheeks, "shut up."

Bianca joins in on your laughter, both of you unaware of watchful dark eyes on you from the other side of the quad.

—

It's in times like these, that Wednesday realizes that you've softened her.

Her pinkie is hooked with yours. You gently swing your joined hands back and forth. Your eyes are mostly focused on the sky, on the trees of the park, or on the buildings you see as you walk through Jericho's streets.

You drag Wednesday with you when you bend down to pat a dog or walk a little quicker to point out a pretty bird. No matter what, you don't let go of her.

Wednesday should be annoyed. In the beginning, she wanted to be. But she's not, and as the days go by, she's made her peace with the fact that you have the power to soften her.

She has never craved someone's presence, until she had a taste of yours. It's something Wednesday will take to the grave with her, but she secretly cherishes these little moments.

You end up stopping at the Weathervane for coffee as a light drizzle starts falling outside.

You sit down at the booth first, and Wednesday hesitates for a beat before deciding to sit beside you and not in front of you.

She orders coffee. You order hot chocolate. It's peaceful.

After you take the first sip, Wednesday feels your pointer finger tapping her thigh, and maybe that's why you're her exception. You don't push, you don't force, you're willing to love her the way she likes to be loved.

And no one can love Wednesday the way that you do.

It's new, and her chest still tightens in anticipation; but Wednesday turns her hand anyway, palm up, telling you it's okay.

Your fingers thread between hers, intertwining your hands together in a tender grip. Your thumb brushes her skin, and you lift her hand to your lips, placing a feather-like kiss on her knuckles.

Wednesday feels the warmth of your breath.

She loves to be loved by you.

When Wednesday is just a sip away from finishing her coffee, she finally breaks the silence; "what were you and Bianca talking about earlier?"

"Hm?" You turn to look at her, not sure what she's referring to.

Wednesday gulps down the remains of the bitterness of coffee still on her tongue, feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable under your gaze. "Today in the quad, you were laughing."

"Oh," you recall with a faint smile, "it was nothing, we were just talking about the valentine's day tradition."

Right. Wednesday furrows her brows in thought, subconsciously squeezing your hand. That ridiculous tradition.

She never cared for it. Valentine's day was pathetic in her eyes and any traditions that came with it usually made her sick to her stomach.

But this year there's a break in the pattern. You.

"Do you care for it?" Wednesday finds herself asking.

"Valentine's day?" You purse your lips, shaking your head softly, "kinda? Not much. Bianca does though, and she thinks I should too."

Wednesday inhales sharply, you see her blinking a couple of times. Too many emotions swim behind her eyes for you to put a finger in any of them.

She can be fragile sometimes. It's rare, but it happens. She's been hurt once, the fear still lingers like a poorly healed scar. You think that's the reason why whatever you are to each other, doesn't have a name yet.

—

It's that look in Wednesday's eyes that makes you sneak out the night before valentine's day. You don't care about labels, but you do care that Wednesday knows what she means to you.

You find yourself going to the greenhouse, praying to every higher entity that no one sees you or Weems would never let you live this down. You rummage through the many rows of plants for the one that always reminds you of the raven-haired girl.

Next, you find Bianca, she opens her dorm room door for you with an annoyed tilt to her brows. She's in her pajamas and was clearly ready to go to bed. But this can't wait.

"Sorry," you utter quietly, sweaty hands tight around your flower, "but I think you were right."

Bianca's gaze shifts from you to the flower you're holding; Wednesday's name is tied around it with a black ribbon and hurried writing on paper so it doesn't get mixed up when the students go to deliver all the anonymous roses at the end of class. A knowing smirk comes to Bianca's lips as she rolls her eyes endearingly.

"Though, I think this one would be more fitting," you can feel heat coming up to your cheeks as you extend the flower to her.

It'll break the tradition, but she's worth it.

—

The next morning couldn't have dawned soon enough. It should be a day like any other, but you can't help the fluttery on your chest as you skip down the stairs of your dorm.

Wednesday is waiting for you just beside the doors that lead to the quad, in your own little private space, just shy of meeting the curious eyes of your peers. Her hands are buried in her pockets as she leans on the wall, her leather backpack resting by her feet. She straightens her posture when her eyes find yours.

You think she feels it too, the shift in the mood.

You stop in front of her, taking in her neatly made braids, the tie that's just a little loose around her neck, and her big doe eyes. Your fingers itch to hold her. "Hi Wednesday," you breathe in adoration.

The corner of Wednesday's lips tilt up in the ghost of a smile, her nimble fingers reach out to hold your jaw so she can press a gentle kiss to your lips.

Contrary to what others might think, her love is always tender. Your hands find her waist, tugging her body closer to yours in an embrace as you reciprocate her affection by pressing your lips firmly to hers; and you feel her melt against you.

And it's in the way that you are able to strip her of her defenses, that Wednesday sees her lingering piece of hesitance; the reason she avoids naming what you have together. Saying things out loud means making them real.

If she tells you just what you do to her, she's allowing you to break her if you ever leave.

But maybe you'll prove her wrong on that too, and she hates to admit that part of her longs for it.

—

It's after lunch that Wednesday seeks you out again, a bit of urgency tugging at her heartstrings quickens her steps.

She's able to hear her own heartbeat in her ears as she has a staring contest with the door that leads to your room. Her skin is hot and prickly under her clothes because of how fast she walked, or maybe it's because of what she's thinking about doing.

Three soft knocks sound on your door, and she waits with bated breath.

You turn the doorknob to see Wednesday on the other side, she has one hand behind her back and the other holds a Black Dahlia; the one you choose.

You bite back a smile.

"Bianca delivered this to me after class," Wednesday tells you, raising a brow, "told me to be nice."

Her tone gets you chuckling, "for the record, I didn't ask her to say that," you tell her.

Wednesday hesitates — she seems to do that a lot around you — her lips hovering before any words come out. The orange light of the hallway is casting a golden glow on her. "So it was you?"

You nod timidly, gesturing for her to come in. When she does, you close the door to your dorm, and the familiar bubble of intimacy finally settles around you.

"I know you don't care about today," you start, your hands already slick with perspiration. "But I wanted you to know how I feel anyway."

Wednesday catches the hidden words in the way you're looking at her; the 'you're it for me, it's you and no one else' that goes unsaid.

No one has ever looked at her the way that you do.

A beat passes, a beat where, for the first time, she hopes you can see what she doesn't say too. Because what Wednesday feels for you, she doesn't feel for anyone else.

She stiffly extends her hand to you — the one that's been behind her back since she arrived — holding out a little sunflower for you to take. She refuses to meet your eyes, her usually pale cheeks and the tip of her ears now burning a soft shade of pink.

Wednesday clears her throat, clearly bothered that you're not taking the flower and she has to say it; "I don't need other people to deliver mine."

Your heart melts. You both broke tradition.

Gentle as ever, you take the flower from her, your eyes crinkling on the sides because of your smile. You bring it to your nose to feel the perfume, humming appreciatively.

You take a step closer to her, your socked feet bumping her boots. You hear the catch on her breath when you push aside a few strands of her fringe, your fingers lingering on her skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"You're growing soft, Wednesday Addams," you had to tease.

A glare is thrown your way, her features hardening the slightest bit. It gets you smiling more, you lean up to plant a kiss on her forehead and delight in the fact that she tries to follow when you pull away. "Thank you," you whisper.

Just say it. Wednesday urges herself, shooting down her ego and the unpleasing twist in her stomach at the prospect of voicing her wishes. She grasps your free hand with hers then.

"I would-" the words feel heavy on Wednesday's tongue, but she forces them out before any second thoughts could take them from her;

"I'd like to call you mine… If you'd like to call me yours too?"

And now you're just looking at her wide-eyed, your grip on her hand becoming slack. You're not speaking, you're not moving. Wednesday doubts you're even breathing.

She shifts uncomfortably in her stance, feeling smaller by the second under your eyes. It's unnerving.

"You don't want this," Wednesday mumbles, and she despises the way her voice cracks in the middle of her sentence.

In the same heartbeat, you finally answer; "I want this," your hold on her hand returns and you tug her closer still, "I really do."

Wednesday blinks a couple of times until her eyes can find a place to focus on your face. She gulps; "don't make me regret it." It's supposed to be a threat, but it sounds more like a plea.

Your forehead rests against hers, her fringe tickling your skin as you feel her soft breathing ghost over your lips.

"I would never."

Wednesday feels more than hears your words over her lips. And she believes you.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I'd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @simp4wanda26 @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @user284747 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @maria-403 @pompompuri @halleest @wandaromanova @marveloussimp @rainbow-hedgehog @left-and-right-up-and-down @get-the-fuck-outta-here @awolfcsworld @elduster @alexkolax @georgi-salva @imdumbhi @youralphawolf72 @reginassweetheart @justyourwritter69 @yangsroboarmm @8e-h-e8 @irish-piece-of-trash @femalehomosexual666 @thenextdawn @trishatheotaku

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday addams x fem!reader #wednesday addams #wednesday #wednesday addams x you #wednesdayedit #imagine #fanfic #fluff #angst #wednesday addams fanfic #jenna ortega #wednesday x reader #my story

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