#writing this was like pulling teeth lmao

[optiwashere]

To those of you thinking maybe I won't do another challenge month soon...

Femslash February is basically almost here...

#random rambling about writing #repeating “I cannot do another full every day challenge” under my breath #not surprising that finding a prompt list for it is like pulling teeth tho lmao

[milflewis]

i love u. so very very much. happy birthday. here’s 3k of medieval schumilton. sorry about the soulmate fic lol i will get to it eventually ! mb

The stranger raises his eyebrows as he straightens up from his bow, hand curling into a loose fist at his hip. Mick narrows his eyes at him.

He’s seen Lewis do the very same thing over and over again. It is one of the few tells the Head of the Kingsguard has — flexing his fingers when he’d prefer Mick’s father to duck and run behind him even though he can’t ask him to because no, Your Majesty, they haven’t done anything yet but I’ve got a feeling, a bad one, Sebastian, please remind the king what happened the last time he ignored one of my feelings and —

His dad grins, easy and loose, waving a hand. “No need for the formality, Bottas. You took an arrow for Mika — you do not bow here.”

The man’s — Bottas — mouth twitches, ticking up at one corner, something in his face relaxing as he stands at a casual parade rest, hands not quite behind him. The handle of the double headed axe peeks over his shoulder, stained dark wood, notched and leather wrapped. A days worth of travel dust and dirt clings to his boots and cloak, face unshaven but eyes clear and hands washed.

Bottas. Mick knows that name.

“Well?” His dad says, rising from his chair, hands on his knees because he likes to act a decade older than he is. He grips Bottas’ elbow when he walks over to him, hand clapping his shoulder. “What can I do for you? Are you staying for a while or just passing through? We have rooms to spare if you want one, and I could have food brought up. Rather late for dinner but I’m sure we’ll be able to find you something.”

Bottas shakes his head, shifting on his feet minutely. He rolls his shoulders ever so slightly. “No, thank you. I ate before I arrived. I was — I was hoping to stay for a couple of nights but —“

“Daniel thought it’d take you at least five years before you came calling but see,” Sebastian grins from the doorway, doublet open, trousers creased. “I knew better.”

His dad laughs and Bottas flicks his eyes up before turning to look at Sebastian. “And how many did you think?”

Sebastian shrugs, long silver chain under his clothes glinting in the firelight. Mick doesn’t miss how Bottas’ eyes follow it for a moment. “Less than five,” he replies, eyes bright, and lets the door swing shut behind him, Mick catching a glimpse of Jenson’s armoured shoulders standing guard in the hallway, as he steps inside, pulling Bottas in for a close embrace.

Bottas laughs, bringing his arms up to grip him back, Sebastian’s doublet bunching up under his hands. “Glad to know Ricciardo has faith in me.”

Sebastian pulls away, hands on either side of Bottas’ face. He taps him lightly on the cheek as he says, “I just knew you’d miss us too much to stay away. Lewis agreed.”

Bottas shoves him, cheeks heating. “Well if Lewis says you’re right….” His eyes are heavy with a joke that Mick does not understand but Sebastian seems to as his grin widens.

“Speaking of Lewis,” his dad says, arms crossed, leaning back against his desk. “I would’ve thought you’d bring him with you?” He looks at Sebastian who shrugs, lips struggling to press together around the stretch of his smile as his face lights up, delighted with himself. “I was with Daniel and a few others,” he replies, not looking at Bottas, eyes wide. “I didn’t know if this visit was a secret or not.”

Bottas’ smile flattens into a dead-eyed stare. Sebastian turns to blink at him. “Considering how things were left with him last time.”

“And how,” Bottas says, quietly. “Were things left last time?”

Sebastian tilts his head to the side, smile sliding crooked. “As I just said, I don’t know. Did you not hear or is that left ear still bothering you?”

“Alright.” His dad rolls his eyes at the two of them, cutting Mick a look of fond exasperation. His dad doesn’t like many people or, well, that is not entirely true. He likes people but he just doesn’t have the patience most of the time. There are very few he will tolerate at a late hour, especially one where people will not talk directly to each other. He remembers his hand on Bottas’ shoulder, how he stood like Lewis. He looks at the easy way Sebastian stands in the man’s space, even as Bottas glares at him.

You took an arrow for Mika.

Mick came up with a game three months into Lewis training him, desperate for an insight into the man’s life, desperate for anything. Lewis had played along in that way that he does where Mick isn’t sure if he understands why Mick seeks him out when he doesn’t need to, why he catches Mick watching him so often. For every hit Mick manages to land on Lewis, Lewis tells him a story, about anything at all as long as Lewis is in it.

This one, Lewis had said, tapping a thumb along the thin white nick on his jaw, barely longer than a nail. It was nearly fully covered over by hair. Mick squinted against the sun, leaning in closer.

A friend gave it to me. During the Bull campaign, I had broken a few fingers and so, could no longer shave by myself. He had flexed his hand, fingers long and thick and stretching, covered in thin tattoos. But to let someone that close to your throat with a blade, he had laughed. Not very easy, you know? Still. It had started to bother me. I hate, he said, mouthing twisting. Having a long beard, especially when it is messy. Gets in the way. How Seb does it, not a fucking notion. Apologies for the language, my prince, he’d grinned and danced away when Mick kicked at him.

Your friend, Mick had poked as Lewis, like always, came wandering back. Lewis had only shrugged, pulling his sweat dark shirt over his head and swapping it for a new one. Guanyu grinning at him, a few feet away where he was leaning against a pillar, waiting to escort Mick to afternoon audiences.

Valtteri Bottas, Lewis said, face soft. A good man. The best perhaps, if I am being completely truthful, but truly awful at giving you a shave. When he looked at him, smiling, Mick could see the scar again.

Or at least, he is when Daniel is trying to make him laugh with dirty jokes – I don’t know if you’ve heard the one about the honey badger and a bottle of gin but it nearly got me killed. Mick choked on his water and Lewis grinned, slapping his back.

“Mick?”

His dad is looking at him, eyebrows raised, and Mick clears his throat, the back of his neck growing hot. “Yes?”

“Would you go and bring Lewis here?”

“It’s his night off,” Mick says, a little too quickly judging from how Valtteri Bottas looks at him. Sebastian laughs beside him. “I know,” his dad says. “But he will be angry with me if we wait until morning to tell him that Bottas is here, and I am not in the mood for an angry Lewis Hamilton.”

Sebastian laughs again, nudging Bottas with an elbow as he asks what happened to the gloves that he sent him and why isn’t he wearing them.

—

When Mick finds him, Lewis is sitting cross legged on the floor of the Kingsguard’s barracks, feet covered in thick socks. His shirt is loose around his shoulders and untucked. The fire in front of him throws in the room in strange shadows and glowing orange light.

He does not look up when Mick enters, only putting down his sewing as he gets closer. “My prince. Is there anything I can do for you — it’s very late, you know?”

Mick recognises the material Lewis is holding as one of Sebastian’s tunics, the deep navy of his family house. Lewis seems to be embroidering an even darker blue into the body of it — delicate tiny flowers. Mick reaches out a hand, tracing one with his fingers.

“Yes,” Mick says. “I know.”

The firelight softens the line of Lewis’s face, rounding out the bags under his eyes, catching off the metal in his ears. There is a bruise along his left jaw, under his beard, old and green and yellow.

Mick was too young when the war came around years ago. He was not out on the battlefield, on the front lines or even in the camps. He had not seen Lewis’s wounds until they had long since healed. He knows all their stories only as just that. It is more than pleasant, he has found, to see the injuries that Lewis seems incapable of not collecting when they first appear, and even better, that they come from sparring and training now than anything more sinister.

“My father is asking for you. We have a visitor.” He watches Lewis’s eyebrows raise. “And I thought I had convinced you to start calling me Mick.”

He gestures at the empty room, at the closed door and darkened windows. “And we’re alone. As you asked.”

Lewis hums, pressing his lips together. “So we are.” And then he falls quiet. Mick has the suspicion that he is being laughed at.

He rolls his eyes, holding out a hand to help Lewis up. “Come. We shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

Lewis grins when he takes it, a bite in the dark, fingers curling around Mick’s. He doesn’t stand up, bending his head over their hands, hair piled on the top of his head in elaborate braids, exposing the back of his neck in one long vulnerable line.

The scar on his throat wraps around from the front, ending in the nape of his neck, thick and white and shocking in the low light.

“As my prince wishes,” Lewis says again, quiet like he is saying something else, and his mouth presses quickly against the back of Mick’s hand, thumb digging into his palm.

Mick swallows, stomach swooping. He pulls his hand away, flicking Lewis on the forehead before moving away. Lewis laughs behind him, loud in the silent room, and Mick turns his back on him so he can smile.

Lewis catches up with him just barely out of the room, bumping his elbow with his, boots pulled on, shirt tucked in but rumpled, jacket open. There is a long knife strapped to his left thigh. He looks solid and broad, eyes still gentle with rest and warmth. The skin on his hand where Lewis kissed tingles. Mick hasn’t been able to stop smiling.

He catches Lewis’s gaze as he falls into step with him and Lewis’s grin grows with whatever he sees on Mick’s face. Mick has been thinking someday for a while now, around Lewis, and he is starting to think that, maybe if he plays this right, someday will become today.

—

Jenson gives Lewis a two-fingered sloppy salute when he sees him, shifting on his feet. Lewis exhales, raising one eyebrow. “I’d tell you to be at ease but,” he says, gesturing at Jenson’s casual stance and relaxed face. Jenson only grins, pushing the door open with his foot, winking at Mick as they pass.

Lewis laughs when he sees Bottas and barely hesitates before he’s crossing the room, throwing his arms around the other man, half lifting him off his feet. Bottas lets him, one hand cradling the back of Lewis’s head. He is careful not to touch the thick scar on his neck. He’s blushing faintly when Lewis releases him, the lines around his mouth tender. When they settle, Lewis still holding his elbow loosely, Bottas looks years younger, at ease for the first time since he arrived.

“I have your shield.” Lewis is grinning, all the exhaustion from earlier bled away. “It’s back in my quarters. I can go fetch it?”

Bottas shrugs and Mick notices how Sebastian’s shoulders loosen as he replies, “No need. I can pick it up in the morning.”

“You are staying then?” Lewis is watching him carefully, still smiling. Bottas looks at his dad then, head inclined in deference. “If you will have me.”

His dad waves a hand. “I told you. You are always welcome here. If not for what you did for Mika, then what you did for me. And besides, I would never hear the end of it from these two if I turned you away.”

Sebastian grins as Lewis rolls his eyes, tugging Bottas into one of the seats by the fire, glancing back at Mick as he goes.

“You’ve met?” Lewis asks Bottas who shakes his head, obviously amused. Sebastian drops onto the thick carpet before the fire, stretching out like a cat. “Prince Mick Schumacher,” Lewis says, waving his wrist with a grand flourish. “Son of King Michael and Queen Corinna Schumacher. Age twenty five, proficient in swordplay and hand-to-hand combat, likes reading and blueberry jam and ducking his guards.”

Mick laughs, stomach heating, and kicks at Lewis’s feet as he drops into the chair by Sebastian’s head. “Proficient?” Bottas looks like he’s biting back a smile. “That’s high praise, you know, coming from him. You must be very skilled.”

Mick shrugs, trying to swallow as his throat sticks dry and scratchy. “I have good teachers.” He resolutely ignores the look Sebastian throws him.

Lewis jerks back, twisting in his seat. “What is that supposed to mean – ‘coming from him’?” Bottas stares at him, opening his mouth but Lewis never gets to hear what it means because his dad interjects from across the room, seated back at his desk.

“Wait. Mick ducks his guards? Regularly?”

Lewis and Sebastian both turn the same unimpressed flat looks at their king, the movement fluid and so in tune with each other you would think they had practised it. “And where,” Sebastian starts, slowly. “Do you think he could’ve gotten that particular trait from?”

His dad falters, jaw working, and Mick turns away, hiding his smile. Lewis winks at him.

—

Jack is looking out the window, the low morning sun glinting off the steel of his armour, when Mick comes out of his room, pulling on his boots.

“Ready?” Mick asks, and Jack grins at him, popping a grape into his mouth. “Just waiting for you, Mickie.” He swipes another handle of fruit from Mick’s breakfast tray before side stepping him to get at the door first. He pauses, hand trapping Mick’s fingers on the handle, for just enough time for Mick to get irritated before swinging it open wide, forcing Mick to scramble back, nearly tripping over Jack’s feet.

Jack laughs behind him and Mick regrets the five months he spent pestering and petitioning his dad to allow Jack to be his sworn shield.

“I thought Guanyu was on shift this morning.”

Jack falls into step with him, one hand on the hilt of his sword, eyes alert for all that he’s still smiling. “You know, someone could think you are growing tired of my company. Not me, of course, I am well aware I’m your favourite, heavy burden that it is — you’re so clingy — but one could worry.”

Mick rolls his eyes, and frowns slightly. Jack’s hair is longer than he’s seen it in years, not by a lot, mind you, but just — longer. Jack hates when his hair is long, hates how hot it makes him, hates how it falls in his face. Mick presses his lips together, looking away. He wonders who has caught Jack’s eye, who he’s trying to impress.

“You’d do well to worry more,” Mick says and nearly walks into a visiting merchant coming their way as he avoids Jack’s ankle kick. Mick is red in the face when they continue on, trying not to smile, as Jack laughs beside him.

“Ah,” Jack says, smug and terrible, and Mick is definitely going to find out who Jack has become interested in now and be insufferable about it. “Lewis is already here before us. I’ll leave you to his very capable hands then.”

Mick gives in, shoving him away by the shoulders, which isn’t even as satisfying as it should’ve been because Jack, the arsehole, catches himself before he falls, cackling as he wanders away.

“Having fun?”

The circles under Lewis’s eyes aren’t any lighter in the morning light. Mick isn’t all that surprised. It had been late when he left Lewis and Sebastian to another one of Valtteri’s stories, laughing and fire warm and wine drunk, and they hadn’t seemed like they were stopping anytime soon. Still, Lewis looks good — happy, well rested.

“No,” Mick says, mouth twisting into a petulant frown. Lewis’s laugh is loud and when he throws Mick’s sword to him, metal bright in the sun, Mick catches it easily.

“Will you be at the feast tonight?” Mick asks, when it looks like Lewis will continue talking about Jack and him. Lewis grimaces, mouth twisting, and Mick walks into the ring, blinking against the sun, trying not to smile.

“Of course,” Lewis says, not bothering to hide his lack of excitement, settling his weight onto the balls of his feet, stance familiar. He holds his sword like it’s an extension of himself, like he barely even registers it as something other. Watching him and Sebastian fight always draws a crowd.

Mick shuffles over a few steps, Lewis following him, eyebrows raised, until the sun is at Mick’s back and in Lewis’s eyes. Mick grins at him. “You still owe me a dance.”

Lewis’s smile is a small and lovely thing. Mick can feel it in his belly, hot and sweet, filling him up. “So I do,” Lewis murmurs, and when Mick darts forward, Lewis is there with his sword raised to deflect him, eyes bright.

#i lowkey highkey hate this lmao. writing rn is like. Pulling Teeth. but we move #couldn’t write the soulmate one and was like. what does kyle like? schumilton. check. knights n shit. check. jack doohan. check. #kyle tag #schumilton #f1 rpf fic #stuff i wrote #lewis/mick #formula 1 #little fics

[walkinginland]

let the ransomed be free

a little the song of achilles ficlet

Patroclus and Achilles hold hands in the underworld. that’s it that’s the fic.

title from The Oh Hellos’ “Thus Always to Tyrants”

Time passes differently under the earth. It is marked by different measures, decided by different powers. Gods and suns wheeling in the sky above are not permitted here below. Kings who counted their days by dreams of their own glory, now cut short here alone, with no one to mark the loss of their pride.

Two souls entwined together, two souls knowing peace for the first time in their too short too long lives. Two souls whose time on earth was always at a precipice, could now have fields stretching without limits at their fingertips.

Fingers curled in hair, against skin and soul and bone. Pushing against fate and time and the whims of gods and kings. Brushing along the map of love laid in foundations of children and grown in war.

(your fingerprints are your own until you carve them into the gentle touch of another. they become another’s when reverence molds them deeper than stories in stone)

It had been so long. So long, and yet what was time to the two of them? They had been kept apart by the lack of marks on stone, their fingerprints waiting to mark skin and memory in a way far more eternal than a gravestone etching could ever be. Their story carved into pictures and history and scars that should have never been. Their joy and grief a more beautiful legend than any carved record of war.

There was peace here though, in this place. The peace of the dead, the peace of the reunited. The peace that the both of them had sought after for so long above ground, cupped here in their hands at last.

******

The first thing I think is Achilles.

I don’t know how long it has been since that first thought now. Time moves differently here, under these dark trees and besides this silent river. The changing of seasons and the passing of human lives pass us by as noiselessly as the shades across the fields; we do not disturb them, and they do not trouble us.

And the first thing I think is Achilles. When I woke that first time, when I wake every time after. And every time, he is there, with fingers in my hair or brushing against my cheek, smiling that teasing grin that was such a relief even now. There had been a time when I thought to never see it again. I had seen that foreign, horrifying numbness settle onto his face, rooting itself deeper and deeper that day under the sun. Deeper from the moments he was watching me ride away over that hill to the moment he handed his life over and took peace in exchange. He had waited for me on that hill, and then he waited for me under it. He had waited so much longer than I had promised him.

I had promised him tomorrow and it took so much longer to come than a day.

I had been brought to him so many times, followed him to the ends of the earth. When we were but children and I stumbled to his side in his father’s house, wandering and lost through the forest; the sea bearing me to his marriage bed, bearing us to war. I was brought back to him lifeless. Brought through the shadows to meet him in golden light.

I followed and followed and followed. And he waited. In his room, in the mountain forest, in a home by a bed not wanted, in death. He waited.

That time of following, of waiting grows dimmer here with each passing day. Memory has a different hold under the earth, and we were content to let that time of pain and secrets and uncertainty go, to let it run through our fingers like water.

We finally had our tomorrow here, in this place with no shame. No need to hide, not in too thin tents or marriages. After all, if the gods could be with whoever they wished, those of us in the underworld could do the same. We made our home among the shades in a quiet meadow, and in each other. Calluses of spear and needle eased, smoothed over by the touch of skin and gentle timeless time.

We rested in the open here, leaning back against the pale grass, tucked into each other’s sides. My head kept in the hollow of his shoulder, one of his hands buried in my curls and the other holding mine across his stomach. His long fingers wove between my own, playing a melody even with no lyre in his hands, a song only he could hear.

“Patroclus?”

“Hm?” I rolled my head against his shoulder, catching a glimpse of his face out of the corner of my eye.

He didn’t say anything more, simply pulled me closer, a quiet smile on that quick mouth. I pressed my lips to the place where his neck and shoulder met, pressing a kiss there before tucking my head in closer. I knew what he meant. He had no need to say more. He had my name, and coming from him it was so much more than sound.

His smile widened as his fingers continued sorting through my hair, and light sparked in the darkness, golden in the hope of every touch.

*****

No story is all happiness. No matter what two 16-year-olds may swear to each other in a moment by the banks of a sunlit river, far distant and far above and far before fate or war cast a shadow on shadow on shadow over their peace. Before, when their lives stretched out before them with no horizons. Before this shadow, their shadow, their grand and quiet tragedy painted through years and separation and carried on poet’s tongues.

So, no, no life or pair of souls can be all that pride dreams them to be. But they can be something so much more than fickle pride allows.

(your soul is your own until you place it in the hands of another. it is yours until it bleeds together with another’s love and creates something altogether new.)

And so, the fates perhaps did not allow both happiness and fame. But they are here now. They are tangled fingers and legs and hearts by a far darker stream. They are quiet eons and joyous hearts, stretching beyond moments to an eternity of pouring light. And what could happiness mean beyond that?

***********

thanks for reading!! also on ao3 right here

#the song of achilles #tsoa #the song of achilles fanfic #my writing #tsoa fic #dragged this fic out letter by letter like pulling teeth lmao #BUT WE MADE IT #we made it OOF #BUT i think i like it? maybe? i've stared at it too long

[ventiswampwater]

wow, learning so much about louisiana wildlife and proper roadkill cleanup procedures for this lester filthnasty I’m writing

#I've read so many articles. watched so many minidocs/yt videos #also several animal processing/taxidermy videos #I've come to the conclusion that lester's narsty ass roadkill pit is guaranteed to draw more immediate attention from the local government #waaaay before they ever realize that ambrose is still a thing #like boy!!! that shit is against several ecological rules and procedures!!!! #but I guess that's part of their whole plot lmao #u see this nasty ass roadkill pit and find urself so shocked n appalled by the tax fines lester's about to have 2 deal with #that when bo pulls out the southern charm and lights a cigarette only to immediately extinguish it u just fcken go with it #I'm 2.6k words into this fic and it's only about halfway done lmao #idk lester is just so fun to write with?? I love him #and he deserves all the filthnasty after my insane bo spiral #after I'm done w/ this one.........I'm gonna sink my teeth back into my vincent wip #screaming crying #everyone gets to bang the reader!!! everyone!!!! #sam speaks

[imwritesometimes]

love popping popcorn/grabbing snacks to read over my own wips

#I haven't given up on it yet man I started it over entirely yesterday and it felt much better like more organic not like pulling teeth #but I still gotta read it back and see like lol ok but is it *really*???? #I'll find out lmao #i write sometimes

[orcelito]

Oh. I think I'm depressed.

#speculation nation #negative/ #most of the time im actually not depressed anymore. usually just stressed. #but this would explain why ive been struggling to do Anything besides playing video games #lacking creative juices so i cant write. what little ive managed has been like pulling teeth & feels like it lacks soul #and so ive been playing fire emblem for hours and hours #i slept like 10 hours last night and im still tired. i might just fuckin go to sleep lmao. man. #middle of the day fuck offfffff it's work woods fire emblem sleep repeat but i dont work today so im listless #supposed to have fun on a day off. mostly im just tired. #depression's one of the stages of grief. maybe that's my deal. i dont remember what the other stages are. brain too foggy. #yea. this probably is depression. my brain doesnt want to do Anything so i keep it occupied with video games. oh well.

[covenofthearticulate]

If you see me strolling in several days late with a @vamptember prompt, no you don’t. 

Day 2: “Tell me a story”

Louis and Lestat attempt to read some light murder plotting to Claudia before bed, but Shakespeare’s lines get a little too real. 

(note: tumblr keeps nerfing my formatting on this so it’s probably better suited to read on ao3)

“Just one story before bed.” Her words are muffled into Louis’ side as she stands on his feet, clinging to his torso as he sways in a gentle, familiar little dance. 

“Did you finish your studies for the night, young lady?” He chides. 

“Yes.”

“Really? Because I specifically remember some Latin conjugations—”

“Oh, let her relax, Louis.” Lestat sweeps into the room with gallant strides, shedding his coat on the divan with obnoxious flourish. He’s warm from the hunt; Louis can feel it even from where he stands across the room. It makes him frown as he only now takes note of the twisted hunger clawing at his veins.

“What story would you like, mon ange?” He kneels in front of Louis and even then he is taller than their daughter, but he gives her a smile, manages to bop her nose before she falls into his embrace and snuggles up against the newfound warmth.

“Macbeth.” She beams.

“We only saw that play but a fortnight ago. Surely there’s another— a comedy, perhaps— that would better interest you.” Louis huffs even as he pulls the requested title from the shelf, verdant eyes fixated on the finely printed ink. 

He doesn’t bother to share with Lestat— surely his maker knows the lines already. He mumbles them under his breath when he thinks he is alone, taps out the iambic cadence with glassy nails as the words relentlessly torment him. Lestat was born to play Macbeth. 

Which is perhaps why, tonight, Louis claims the role before the words can leave Lestat’s mouth: 

“ If it were done when ’tis done, then ’twere well it were done quickly. ”

He says with a disarming conviction that stills the squirming Claudia, who now sits tugging at the frills of her dress on the edge of the divan, and causes Lestat to turn in one graceful sweep, head cocked to the side as he lets the words settle in the humid air between them. It isn’t a blow, not quite. But it is a challenge. A declaration.

Let the match begin. 

“ IF it were done, when ‘tis done, then ‘twere well it were done QUICKLY .” Louis repeats the words now that he has Lestat’s attention, and suddenly…suddenly this is unlike any production Claudia has ever seen on stage. 

He recites the soliloquey with an eloquence Lestat could never hope to posses, and while it is tempting to weave his own opinions through the tapestry of text that may cause some ripple of influence on their youngest audience member 

( “that we but teach Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return  To plague th’ inventor.  This even-handed justice  Commends th’ ingredience of our poisoned chalice  To our own lips.” ), there is something that comes over him once the weight of the words are on his tongue that he cannot bring himself to do anything other than deliver the lines as if they are inscribed in the very marrow of his bones. 

It’s frightening, actually, to feel the guilt and torment in a way he’s never felt before. He is no longer safe in his box seat, no longer caught up in the crude makeup or melodramatic gestures from any actor on stage. How different it is to speak these words, to know the bitter truth behind them as they fall from his own lips!

For one shining moment he understands it all, and in understanding he feels something for Lestat. A pang of sadness that inevitably accompanies that mortifying ordeal of being known.

It doesn’t last long.

“Why have you left the chamber? ” Lestat all but pounces on the last syllable of Louis’ line as he makes a sauntering entrance across their living room stage, which earns a sweet string of stifled giggles from their makeshift gallery. 

(Has he ever let Louis speak for so long? Louis wonders.)

“ Hath he asked for me? ” Louis’ grip on his book only tightens as Lestat closes the space between them. 

“Know you not that he has?”

He plants himself by Louis’ side, shifting only to catch the gaze of his lover and—

His eyes are…not hungry, perhaps, but something close to it. Playful and predatory all at once. Louis is torn in all directions between awe, desire, and fear.

“We will proceed no further in this business. ” His instinct is to step back, but he squares his shoulders instead as the scripted lines give him false confidence. 

“He hath honored me of late, and I have bought Golden opinions from all sorts of people, Which would be worn now in their newest gloss, Not cast aside so soon.”

At the squaring of his fledgling’s shoulders, Lestat can only smile in amusement; the same smile that plays upon his lips as he watches Claudia hunt. Valiant effort, my love. Now time for the expert.

“Was the hope drunk Wherein you dressed yourself? Hath it slept since? And wakes it now, to look so green and pale At what it did so freely?”

He steps light as air around Louis as the skillfully barbed questions drip from his tongue. Louis may be a master rhetorician in his own right, but with the words laid bare before them, Lestat is free to sharpen them to his liking.

And the words truly do twist like a knife between Louis’ ribs as they dredge up the memories of that time not so long ago when their nights were filled with relentless, bitter brawling. Ungrateful, Lestat had called him. Ungrateful, for letting himself be so easily seduced by this Dark Gift only to arrive in this dark divinity and look back in horror of the thing he has become.

Was the hope drunk in him, when he’d chosen this road? Was he sustained by the lofty promise of revelation, or seduced by the mouth from whence such promises spilled?

Around and around Lestat circles with dreadful anticipation until he’s planted once more directly in front of Louis, his back turned entirely against their singular audience. As suddenly as it appeared, that devious cunning is dissolved from his eyes, replaced now with something softer. 

“From this time Such I account thy love.”

It’s not an admission, but a declaration, and even now it tears at Lestat’s throat like broken glass. You chose your companion badly, Louis had said, and perhaps he was right. If the secret of love, for their kind, is only known through red-speckled gashes then perhaps Louis is incapable of it after all. 

But that doesn’t mean Lestat will ever stop vying for it.

Closing the space between them, he lifts one hand to Louis’ face, golden brows knitting together as the rigid cold of his fledgling’s skin pierces his blood-warmed flesh. Louis  relishes the sweet torment of self-starvation, but Lestat cannot stand it. And so he whispers the words, as he has so many times before, with flushed lips and pleading eyes.

“ Art thou afeard To be the same in thine own act and valor As thou art in desire? ”

“ Prithee, peace! ” Even as Louis steps away and shirks off the olive branch, his breath is trembling. At once he yearns for the burning touch, and in that yearning still manages to pluck that same chord in the pit of his being. Discordant notes echo through the stale blood in his veins: this is wrong! This is unnatural! This is EVIL! 

“ I dare do all that may— ” He pauses, chokes on the words as he’s caught in the snare of Lestat’s gaze. “ ...that may become a man. Who dares do more is none. ”

Another pause, and that hand once lain upon Louis’ cheek is left mid-air, slowly curling into a fist as the tenderness gives way to humiliation gives way to seething anger. Even in their tenderest moments, Louis somehow never seems to allow himself to be moved. Whatever charm Lestat had found in his bullish obstinance had faded long ago, leaving nothing but smoldering embers in it’s wake.

“What BEAST was ’t, then, That made you break this enterprise to me?!”

He’s all gnashing teeth and snarled words as he sends Louis reeling backwards with one accusatory jab of his finger. What a different play this would be, he thinks, if Lady Macbeth could simply take the crown for him, lay her hand atop his own as the dagger pierced through the flesh. Had she only been as passionate a teacher as she was a thane.

“When you durst do it, THEN you were a man! And to be more than what you were, you would Be so much MORE the man!”

The thing is— Louis knows what lines come next. They both do. But even so, the way Lestat stalks towards Claudia makes Louis see red. She’s enraptured by it all, thrilled to play a role in their little melodrama even as Lestat sinks down beside her with that strange gentility only he possesses. He wraps one arm around her shoulder, pulls her in to his side until he finds a home in her gold-spun nest of hair, long fingers gently petting through as he had on that night.

“I have given suck, and know How tender ’tis to love the babe that milks me.”

Louis can’t bear to think about it, and yet he can’t look away. Even now in the sprawling luxury of this flat they call home, he sees them as they were that night, sitting exactly as they are now, her little fingers curled so tightly around Lestat’s wrist, those pretty eyes glazed over with the very first taste of the blood. And Lestat, with that very same stoicism in his features; cold and menacing even as he pets her hair and holds her tight with the utmost adoration.

Was the turning of their dear Claudia was an act of love or an act of revenge?

“I would, while it was smiling in my face, Have plucked my nipple from her boneless gums And dashed the brains out, had I so sworn as you Have done to this.”

Ah, there it is. At last, they’ve arrived at the very same crippling ultimatum that comes around every single time they do this dance. And just as every time before, the words slip from Lestat’s mouth with a lilting levity that makes Louis’ cold blood boil.  Heinous threats whispered with just enough flippancy for their daughter to write off, just enough edge to dig under Louis’ skin like broken glass. 

Like a wounded dog, he bows his head, a soft whine curling in the back of his throat. 

Surrender. 

He clears his throat like a mortal, speaks the words on a melancholy sigh. “If we should fail—”

“We fail!” Lestat throws his hands up, in celebration almost, and he crosses once more to clamp a hand on Louis’ shoulder, jostling him a little as he soaks in his victory.

“But screw your courage to the sticking place...” He leans forward, presses their foreheads against one another. Just you and me, Louis. “and we’ll not fail.”

NOTES: I’m not going to do a full breakdown of the dialogue, but for context, the scene they’re acting out is about an argument that occurs because Macbeth is chickening out of killing Duncan for the crown LOL. What I’ve always loved about this scene is that it gives actors so much room for a variety of tactics. In some productions, Macbeth is only resisting the kill out of a restrained sense of propriety when really all he wants is for Lady Macbeth to give him a reason. In other productions, he’s genuinely fucking terrified. In some versions, Lady Macbeth is an evil temptress but in others, she’s a protective lioness (and in the best productions, she’s BOTH).

Either way, I just think that particular scene is a PERFECT parallel to Louis and Lestat’s long-lasting fights regarding Louis’ refusal to kill. Specifically there’s a lot of mirroring in the scene in IWTV where Lestat tries to get Louis to give in and satiate his hunger (via some…very questionable methods involving escorts, coffins, and wine glasses lmao).

#GOD this is the first drabble i've written in YEARS and it was still like pulling teeth LMAO #i'm so used to rping it's so weird writing on my own asdfgcdvghjh I Do Not Care For It #this was still fun though lmao #vamptember #mine #my writing #Louis de Pointe du Lac #Lestat De Lioncourt #loustat #sorta?? they're in their abusive stage lmfao so idk if it counts

[beachbabey]

How come you stopped posting/writing for tgm?

this and I just fell out of love with the movie and the fandom. these things happen, I don’t control what I like and when I like things

#trying to get interaction with your writing is like pulling teeth and I simply can’t be bothered to try anymore lmao #I’ll write when I feel like it #and even then I probably won’t post half of it

[thehallstara]

the ruthless wip is so close to being done gang but it has also crossed over 10k words so like. oh g-d someone please read this when i finally post it lmao

#s.txt #this fic is soooooo #i've been working on it since the beginning of february so much of it has felt like pulling teeth to get the words together #but this past week i've just been zooming #it's like. 10k+ words meditating on grief and love and avoidance and caring for each other #and like. man i have complicated feeling about my writing AND blb atm #but doing some proofreading today i was like. oh i'm proud of this one actually #sorry for the essay in the tags lmao but. yeah no i hope even a single person enjoys it as much as i do dfjsk #blbrambles #ig

[trash-nerd]

ever been so bored u just wanna

rip you skin off with ur teeth???

#i'm stuck in the trash #girls we need Enrichment In The Enclosure #im dying tho legit like. idk going out and watching groups of friends is Depressing lmao so i dont want to do that again #my only other option is to ask my dad if he wants to do something but also im sick of only going out with my parents like #i dont feel 24!!!!! #i have No social life and have no idea how to get one bc idk how to fuckin talk to ppl unless its job related #then it all goes out the fucking window and im just. awkward and sitting there #idk i just want to rend my own flesh lol #would knit but im broke 1 days after payday so i can afford shit lmao!!! #writing rn feels like pulling teeth bc apparently i get 3 days of solid writing and then Boom. nothing so #Plus! ive been fucking exhausted for weeks sleep is doing nothing and i cant! stop! the mirgaines!!!!! #hhsgshsgsg

[scrap-lizzie]

guys I am..... actually writing... this might actually be done soon. I have a couple more sections planned but things are actually MOVING

#what being on vacation will do to you ig #writing this chapter has been like pulling teeth #and I wrote something else that's literally double the word count of it in about half the time this chapter has taken #but it's happening!! finally!! #no promises on a time frame because I know how that goes lmao #ttl.txt

[lovecrazedpup]

i dont want to sleep

#im like a toddler LMAO throwing things around my room bc im so fucking angry and upset #(im throwing a plushie into my bed but still) #i genuinely think i want to breakup like idk this isnt even a joke or looking for reassurance anymore #like maybe im weird for thinking abt a long term relationship and marriage at 18 but .... #we arent ? very compatible ? long term ? #its unfair to him if i keep this going considering hes a bit older than me yk #nvm im writing this out and im crying maybe i DONT want to break up #im tired of overthinking and obsessing over everything . im tired of seeing him as better than me and perfect . i want to be equals #i just want to be normal and to be in a normal relationship where we do normal things #i just want support i want love i want literally ANYONE to tell me that im ok and that im loveable #i hate our stupid time difference and his stupid job i wish i was like this earlier on in the day it is AWFUL being alone #my head hurts and my throat hurts and i hurt #i want to scream and cut and stab someone #i fucking hate her #so much #shes a fucking bitch i wish i could kill her . like genuinely . i want to pull out her teeth lmao if she didnt exist id be happier #GOD i want to stop comparing myself to her and thinking abt them together but ill always be a second experience and its depressing #'youll be my first for anal' yeah great bc thats exactly what i want to fucking hear #not doing much to stop the 'you only want me for sex' thoughts but YEP GREAT THANKS #me : pouring my heart out and trying to say what im thinking !! him : haha yeah sex ! oh also have some inspirational quotes #god just kill me . get me out . i dont want to be here . i dont want to think abt him. i dont want to talk abt him . #i wish we never fucking met ! i wish i never picked up that stupid game #i dont want to lose you though #i hate how attached to him i am . why did you start talking to me again . #shouldve fucking forgotten me while youre fucking your friends and getting high up north island #cant say shit to him though bc itll be the end and ill probably kill myself bc i unfortunately live for him #its over when we meet anyways lol so i got ? 2 months ? 3 months ? of happiness before its gone #i think im gonna do smth bad but i doubt he would care at all . would probably be happy if i die or ghost him . #gives him an excuse to talk to his friends again lol . its so over for me #jamie.txt

[screampied]

YOU AND YOUR BRILLIANT WRITING ARE AMAZING OMGOMG. all i’ve been thinking about is the jjk men getting their girl LMAO yk breeeeeding until actual mind break w the goal just being planting a seed in your tummy 🫠

໒꒱ ₊˚ ‘ GETTING A SCREAMPIE !!!! ’﹒

𐚁̸ sum. top jjk men and how they breed you + toji, gojo, sukuna, choso, mdni.

𐚁̸ warnings. fem! reader, brēeding kink, unprotected, size kink, oral (f), dirty talk, daddy kink, missiōnary, mating press, cowgirl / rev, mentions of pregnancy, manhandling, bum ass toji, sukuna has two cawks. an thank yewwww !!

☆ CHOSO KAMO

probably the heaviest breeding kink known to man—he’s half curse so he’s infertile.

choso knows the inability to reproduce but he always takes it as an opportunity to stuff you full, again, and again, and again.

“o-one more,” he breathes out, his voice was so breathy, clinging onto each breath that yanks out from esophagus. drowsy eyes shut tight as he’s watching such ropes of his cum already ooze out of both holes. choso’s ears feel fuzzy—he feels fuzzy, but the only thing that was currently on his mind was his goal to make your tummy all plump and rounded. laid flat against your back, you stare as he hovers over you with a cute pout on his lips. his jaw tightens before he pulls out just to stare at the mess between your thighs. “one more, baby. ‘m still full, s—so fuckin’ full,” and he leans in for a kiss, a deep one that’s enlaced with a mixture of your saliva and his. choso’s breath is heavy, he’s heaving as his body pressed into you—thick hands reaching between your thighs just to plug his own seed back into you. “don’t waste it, okay? i saved all of it. saved it just for you, just for us...”

his voice was so tender, such smoothness lingers underneath it as your legs tightly snake around his waist. choso’s staring at you, so in love—he’s always been in love with you though. he was obsessed with you, although his new current obsession was seeing you with a swollen tummy.

again, he’s infertile—yes, but he still likes to imagine he can get his pretty girl pregnant.

oh how he just desperately yearns to gift you with a baby or two . . or three. “c-choso,” you’d mewl out, softly piercing your teeth into the inner parts of his collarbone. choso likes to pull out, pull back in, then out again. a mess, your pussy was flooded with such ropes of his hot cum that he can’t help but gaze at it with a cute sheepish grin.

in his mind he’s thinking . . ‘did i do that?’

and he did, although this time once he pulls out his now flaccid cock—he whines, lowering his head towards between your thighs to get a much closer look, a better view of the mess he was primarily responsible for. “oh no, it’s spilling out,” he says with a cute furrow tugging at his thin eyebrows. choso’s very gentle, he creates a soft strumming a thumb against your swollen clit before he surprises you with his next action. he lolls out his pink clean tongue before tasting the aftermath—tasting himself, a concoction of your slick arousal with his own bitter taste. he doesn’t mind at all, choso’s quite the freak in bed so the moment he runs his tongue against your entrance, there’s no stopping. “gotta k-keep my baby plugged in so she can give me a mini me,” he whimpers, lapping his tongue gradually against your folds—he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment at the bitter taste lingering on the flatness of his taste buds. you’re throbbing, a hand combs its way through his messy strands before you start to arch. “right?”

so cute, your heart swells up with a mush of butterflies as you feel his eyes pierce into you— as he speaks, choso’s voice briefly cracks and he continues to clean up the sloppy mess, using his same stubby thumb to plug your cunt back up with the cum that resumes to spew out gradually.

“y-yes, don’t stop, ‘cho,” you mutter out in jittery words—his tongue was so slow and precise, making sure to rummage through every part of your clit. with two fingers, he pries open your pussy more to get an entire glimpse. he feels his cock strain, wide eyes the size of saucers peer right into you before he gives your cunt a plethora of individual chaste kisses.

mwah after mwah. by this point, he’s making out with your pussy — strings of his own mess forming into a little sheeny cobweb, as well as your wet saliva that coats his lips in such a glittery color. “praise me more, p-please. wanna know how good ‘m making my princess feel.”

with a soft sadden pout, he looks up at you with glossy eyes—such wetness all over his lips before he starts to create sucks against your cunt, nibbling on it shortly afterward. you’re throbbing in his mouth and he shivers incessantly once he feels your fingers playfully massage all through his neglected scalp.

“making me feel so good, you’re doing so well baby,” you whimper out, “s-so fuckin’ good.” his tongue was quite long too—considering how he was a curse, he made sure he knew how to eat you out. choso moans, a mere gritty grunt shortly follows as he reaches a hand down to touch himself before he pauses.

“can i touch myself too? can i touch myself while i clean my pretty girl off?”

“yes baby.”

“fuck, s-say it again,” he whines, leaning right into your touch. he was like a kitten— purring at the way your fingers comb through his hair, tickling his scalp. he awaits for your answer with drowsy eyes and a pouty lip that continues to tremor. “please.”

you giggle at the way he was so in love with your voice, especially in a mere intimate moment like this. “yes baby,” you coo in a melodic tone, watching his droopy eyes shine and he pants before hesitatingly reaching a hand down to feel on his left out twitching cock. “touch yourself for me, ‘s okay,” and he whines as you softly pick up his head from between your legs by his hair—he intakes a breath, and you pull him into a deep kiss. choso whimpers, starting to stroke himself, leaky reddened tip all cold from the wafting air as you taste the mess all on his tongue. bitter yet sweet, he runs a hand on your tummy before he feels your legs wrap around his slim waist once more. once you pull away, you mutter out a soft, “you’re such a good boy for me, choso.”

“heh, i— i try to be,” he pouts, sheeny lips glossed with his own arousal and yours included. choso’s big hand rests against your tummy before he gingerly presses down on it, leaning in for another kiss. “i wanna be good for you,” he whines before leaning down again to kiss near your navel. “wanna be good for you ‘n our future baby.”

☆ TOJI FUSHIGURO

with toji— it’s evident that he’s got a major breeding kink. the thought of you walking around with a plump swelling tummy drives him crazy.

although, he’s not too keen on baring a child— he’s only more worried about the making process.

stuffing you full of velvety ropes of his hot sticky cum. his favorite part, especially whenever he’s pressed right up against you— like now, with you in nothing more than a lewd mating press position. your legs would be sprawled all up, maw dangling open and your eyes criss-crossing each other each particular second.

“shit, what a fuckin’ mess,” he grumbles, such sharp hips smack into you at full force that you can barely react in time. it’s so deep, you moan, pawing and clawing your hands at his tense back muscles. he grunts, feeling your fingertips carve into his skin, scratching his back all up. you’re decorating his back with multiple marks, marks that he loves to show off after the night ends. toji’s rhythm was simply overzealous — insanity at its finest. with a big hand, he cups your chin before giving you a wet kiss. you whine into his mouth, just a doll being rigorously pounded into the frame, mixing his saliva with yours before he pulls away. “keep moanin’ for me like that ‘n i’m really gonna get ya pregnant, girl.”

“s—so do it then, toji.” you spat, your own breaths betraying you with how quick they came and go. you felt like you were ruining a 5k marathon, such wind snatches out of your chest as he makes sure to thrust deep to where his cum that was already inside of you from before stays right in it’s place. he narrows his eyes at you before snickering, pulling you into another deep kiss.

this time, it’s more sloppier. teeth clashing, tongues tango and tangling amongst each other.

his breath was abnormally warm, you taste the lingering tang of booze on his tongue as he rocks his beefy body against yours. you’re about to break, his thrusts became so slow yet deep—the right amount to make you lose your mind.

“toji. . . ?” he sneers, using a thumb to pull your bottom lip down. dark green eyes watch as you’re right at your peak practically. your legs quiver and quaver as he’s just jackhammering his thick cock into you repeatedly in such a rude provocative way. “didn’t know we were on a first name basis, sweetheart.”

“d-daddyyy,” you mewl out, feeling his fat base just thwack against your entrance. previous strings of his own sweltering cum sticks against your skin— each time he pulls himself back to fuck back into you, it smears against your thighs and it’s such a mess. he wraps a hand around your throat, a thumb gliding down the middle part and he feels the sheer vibrations of each individual whine that departs from your mouth. “fuck, fuck, ah ah ‘m gonna cum soon, daddy.”

“bet ya fuckin’ are. ‘specially with a pussy this sloppy ‘n wet. should be ashamed of bein’ this soaked all on me,” he snarls right up against your ear— even his voice has you sopping, your cunt pulses with each word that comes from his mouth that it’s just pathetic. you were no match for his pace, his hips, even his dirty talk. your heartbeat was racing through your ears, rapidly. by now, you were just a pocket pussy—a mere fleshlight, the bed jolts and oscillates from each impactful hit that it even starts moaning itself, as if it’s competing with you. “i’ll give you twins, ‘s that what you want? or are you more of a triplets kinda gal?”

“just give me a baby, daddy.”

“just give me a baby, daddy.” he repeats your tone before cackling—so mean, he watches the pout go against your lips before he greets your wet pussy with a rough spank. you wince, the sting from the entire hit makes your cunt throb at a more quickened pace. you’re so dumb, not a single thought in the world except the fact that you’d be having more ropes of toji’s warm cum oozing out of you in just a minute. just the thought makes you salivate. “greedy . . fuckin’ . . pussy . . holdin’ . . me . . hostage,” he enunciates between each pausing thrust. you writhe underneath him before you end up finishing the same time as him—a loud ear shrilling whimper leaves your throat and he’s pouring another sweet amount of cum into you, this times it’s a lot though. he groans, canines digging into your neck softly as your legs lock around him tightly like a vice.

and as he’s still spewing out such ropes, making sure your pussy is grateful and soaks in ever single drop, he grabs your chin. “now tell me, little girl,” and he kisses you for about a millisecond before continuing his sentence with a sly grin, “are ya ready to be a single mother?”

☆ SUKUNA RYŌMEN

“oh, boo. is my future queen already too full?”

such playful words, the gravelly rasp in his tone only makes you ten times more dripping wet.

with your back pressed against him—you’d be facing yourself in front a mirror, struggling to take one out of two of his thick staggering cocks. one of them was idly resting on his tummy—angry red tip, glistening with a pretty translucent color of his own fluid. “more, m-more ‘kuna.”

“when i’m in the process of breeding you, it’s 'my lord', woman.” he warns you, his lower arm out of the other three wraps around your body. his lips press up against your ear and you lean back against him— he chortles, watching your cunt slowly swallow him up again. so tight, so warm, it makes him suck his teeth in contentment at the way your body always responds to him. just a single touch from sukuna and you were on your way to the fifth climax of the night, “you got me?”

“y—yes, my lord,” you moan, feeling the fat tip of his cock ferret all throughout your gummy walls. instinctively, you compress and brace all around him. his jaw tightens, infamous fangs poking out of his lips before he resumes to guide your cute hips. your rhythm was a bit slow . . . it’s simply because he’s so fucking big, sukuna’s so beefy too. two of his extra arms spreads your legs just a bit wider and you let out a cute shriek once he successfully locates your secretive g-spot. he knows your anatomy like it was the back of his hand. you’re spasming, drool seeping from the corners of your mouth as you feel his claws gingerly scrap against your curves. “breed me, pleasepleaseplease.”

he jeers in a low tone— the fact that you’re making an entire mess on his own personal throne like this. the audacity, but maybe he’s even got a little soft spot for you.

“my obedient girl,” he words warm its way into your heart before you’re bouncing on his shaft now— your breathing becomes insignificantly heavy and you grip onto his knees before he brings another lower arm between your cunt. “hm. if i spank this disgraceful pussy will it give me a baby sooner? let’s try it.”

“s—sukunaaaa,” you’d whine out, his touch making your nipples perk up. you were so sensitive—especially after your most recent screaming orgasm that had your throat clinging onto its last and final pipes. each smack he makes against your wet cunt was so slick, saturated with your own arousal that he smears it all over folds. your swollen pussy was awaiting more satiny ropes as he’s just mindlessly pumping in and out of you. he groans, feeling a twinging burn underneath his calve as he holds you down. “don’t stop, don’t s-stop, pleaseee.”

“dumb woman, thought i told ya to not call me sukuna when ‘m inside this pussy?” and he holds your head up—with your mouth all open, eyes droopy, tips of your ears burning, you felt everything. you’re so stupid that your thighs ache, your brain short circuits, you’re almost frothing. the more his thick cock pummels into you— the more your ears fill up with straight fuzz. “i’ll let it slide just for today, you’re lucky i like you.”

his words were a mere purr to you, so seductive.

with two rough hands, he makes you grind against him instead of bouncing—purposely making sure that you feel every single inch, every entire being of his hardened cock. he pulses inside you, and you whine before slumping right against his broad lap. the ancient markings that perfectly decorate his skin graze against your back and you whimper before he starts to feel his breathing pick up. “f—fuck, bare around me like that, good girl, goooood,” and as he still has your spasming hips in place, he spanks your ass before it finally arises. sukuna shoots inside of your cunt, a hefty amount of cum that spits right inside of your folds. “. . ah,” he gasps, and for a second you could almost hear him whine. you jitter your hips forward a bit, making sure a drop doesn’t spill out before he snickers right against your ear, lifting you up from his lap to realign himself. “cute. but let’s try to make you even more full with two cocks, yeah?”

☆ GOJO SATORU

he wouldn’t even realize he has a breeding kink until he’s literally guts deep inside of you.

gojo’s a simple man, he likes to return home from a long mission + day at work to his pretty wife. correction, his pretty wife with no panties underneath. the moment he crosses your path near the kitchen, he brings you into a rough kiss, hands finding its way towards the back of your ass. he gives it a tight squeeze, leading you straight towards the bed—he doesn’t even have to say a single word either.

he’s a simple man, he knows what he wants, and he wants you.

“t-toruuu,” you’d gasp out, scratching up his back with various marks. he never minded, if anything it only turns him on. he was so deep, a feral gaze meets yours—hooded eyes and he’s breathing in and out, cloudy puffs of air ghost from his lips as his thick cock just pounds straight into you at full throttle. missionary—a simple yet straight forward position that he always loved to do whenever he was feeling lazy. especially now, your legs were cutely raised up, weight bouncing and bouncing as he briefly holds up your leg to run his tongue against your ankle. “fuck, fuck, fuckkk.”

he’s whimpering himself, white strands sticking to his forehead like hot glue before he rocks against you further—clenching his perfectly chiseled jaw as he hitched his breath. “ohhh fuck, ‘s good, ‘m gonna cum again, baby. so wet, gonna milk the shit out of me.” and his hips frantically stutter, right in front of your eyes—you squeeze him with all your might before momentarily, he dumps another sloppy load into you again. by now, you lost track—you were just stuffed, hot cum seeps and dribbles out of your swollen glistening cunt before he leans into your neck. “. . . ugh,” and he sounds like a alluring harmony, even his grunts were blissful and melodic. “not enough, still not enough for my baby.”

“so full, ‘toru,” you’d mewl out, shivering once he softly bites his pearly whites into your neck. doing so, his own muffles and a certain itch in your brain gets scratched once the crown of his dick batters strenuously against your most sweetest spot. “ohmygod right there, please.“

“y-yeah?” he swallows, and his cologne runs against your nostrils—even his loud scent had you drenched, you throb as he frowns once he suddenly feels his own seed pouring all down your thighs. he stares at it and it’s so much, with a cute attempt to fuck it back into you—his hips grind slowly against you, a soft little pout stretching against his pink lips as your legs wrap around his slim waist oh so tightly. “i missed this,” he rasps, and he starts to ram his cock into you again. it goes on for hours—with gojo satoru, stamina for him is practically non-existent. “i missed my f-favorite pussy so bad, fuckkk.”

so whiney, he couldn’t help it. your tongue lolls out and you’re sure he’s already broken you—you whine at his rhythmic speed. it’s so hypnotic, it’s so salacious. the way his hips dance against yours at such a rough pace was just purely euphoric. clammy hands of yours grab onto his bulky thighs and you you moan before you end up being too loud so he covers your hand, whispering lowly. “listen to it with me.”

so you do—you grow quiet the moment his big hand goes against your face, shielding your moans any further and the bed just squeaks in squeaks. as if your body was in sync, in harmony with his, minutes pass before he ends up cumming again. gojo’s buried all the way down to the hilt, fat balls smacking against your entrance in such a mean way before you hear the little squelches spurt right into you. it was so messy, he looks down before pressing a hand against your plump tummy. “god, you’re so fuckin’ hot,” he utters in a hoarse voice, leaning in to kiss all over your face. you’re so dizzy—your cunt was now over flooding with nothing but his thick cum. “we’re gonna have the prettiest babies, promise.”

and then he watches as you try to catch your breath, sprawled all out whilst he’s still inside of you—dick still twitching inside before he kisses the tip of your nose. “you’d be such a good mommy for me, such a good mommy for satoru fuckin’ gojo.”

#★vegasbaby. #toji smut #gojo smut #sukuna smut #choso smut #toji x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk headcanons #jujustsu kaisen smut #anime smut #female reader #cw sex mention

[rinhaler]

Uf!Sukuna pulling reader into the shower with him after winning a match 😮‍💨

Writing this bc I don't wanna deal with writing the follow up rn LMAO idk if I wanna count this as canon or not but I guess it doesn't really matter either way. Enjoy hotties!

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, underground fighter!sukuna, blood/injury detail, pet names (princess, sweetheart, baby), daddy kink, spanking, pussy eating, male masturbation, hair pulling, showerhead usage (iykyk), oral fixation, praise, mutual pining??, vaginal sex, creampie.

words: 2.6k

It doesn’t take you long to jump out of bed and rush to the front door when you hear a knock. You already know who it is. As you open the door, you see him looking down at your welcome mat, and he’s closer than you’d expected him to be. His arm resting on the door frame and the way his body is hunched over makes it seem as though he’s already inside.

He looks up at you, grinning widely, and the sight makes you gasp.

“You’re bleeding.” you say, doing all you can to stay quiet and composed so you don’t disturb Megumi while he sleeps.

He spits on the ground, a bright red glob soon washed away by the rain almost as quickly as it lands. His chest rumbles with each breath, you’ve never seen him like this before.

You’ve never had to worry about him before.

“You stood me up.” he chuckles darkly, body becoming drenched by the downpour the longer you stare at each other. “Why didn’t you come? Wanted you to see me win.”

“I—” you stop yourself, shaking the explanation away as you look at his features. The way blood perfectly frames his teeth as a bloody cut from his nose continues to pour and trickle into his mouth. “I’ve seen you fight, how did this happen? You’d never let someone land a hit on you like this.”

He moves to come in, but you block his path instantly. And at that, he rolls his eyes. It’s what he likes about you, your stubbornness. It drives him crazy. He knows you aren’t to be taken lightly and you aren’t the type of girl to yield to him without reason.

“You were meant to come watch me win tonight, princess,” he reminds you. There’s a twinge of guilt in your eye that he doesn’t miss, it even gives him an opening to let himself into your home.

He knows better than to raise his voice or do anything to make you worry. He knows how badly you strive to be a good influence to your little brother and how you only want to do right by him. He knows how guilty you feel for continuing to see him behind your brother’s back.

But he can see in your wanton stare as you look up at him so meekly, you feel even guiltier for disappointing Sukuna.

And that is why you decided not to show up tonight.

“I did win, sweetheart, don’t worry.” he tells you, putting your mind at ease. Though it’s hard to feel fully comforted knowing the state his opponent has likely been left in after giving your lover such a gnarly injury. “I did let him hit me a few times.”

“Why would you do that?” you ask him, quietly. “Why would you do something so stupid?”

“’Cause you weren’t there tonight.” he responds, a wicked grin on his face as he tells you. “Wanted your attention tonight, and look how worried you are. Do you feel bad you didn’t come and watch daddy win for you?”

“A little.” you nod. “Your face looks fucked, they really got a good hit on you. You should really get that checked out.”

“And why would I do that when I know the best doctor in town?” he raises an eyebrow. He points at his face and scoffs lightly before speaking again. “This is nothin’, princess. Don’t worry. Think you owe me after you bailed on our plans. And I don’t mean I want you to patch me up.” he smirks as he takes your hand.

You’re a little ashamed that Sukuna has been here enough times to know where everything is, now. He pulls you along to your bathroom like he lives here. Like he’s always lived here. He closes the door as you enter it, locking it behind you as he pushes you against the white painted wood.

Your breathing quickens and your lungs expand. The deep breaths you take are enough to make you lightheaded, but you can’t lose yourself when you’re around Sukuna. He demands your mental presence as well as physical, no matter what you’re doing.

He needs to know you’re with him the way he’s always with you.

“We can’t.” you shake your head. “Megumi will hear.”

“I know.” he nods, holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger before he bends down to kiss you. And you don’t resist, you never do. You never can. And he knows that. “I want to shower, ‘n I want you to come in with me, darlin’.”

He pulls away just a little so that he can lift his vest over his head and toss it aside. His muscles ripple even in the darkness of the bathroom. Your hand instinctively searches for the light, eager to see him properly. But he does it for you, easily flipping the switch so that the room fills with a cool blue light. It makes you shiver, although that could just as easily be him.

He's so imposing, so intimidating.

“Megumi will hear us, we can’t.” you remind him, and you’re met with a string of shushes before he kisses you again, the coppery taste of blood stains your tongue, but you don’t mind. You barely even notice as your own blood seems to rush to your head. He’s already pulling at your pyjama top, and you’re letting him. He strips you of the material before threading his fingers through your hair, his tongue tangling with yours as you moan into his mouth.

“I don’t care if he does,” he laughs lightly before kissing you again. “And I don’t think you do either, I think you want to fuck a winner tonight. And I want my prize.”

You don’t answer, you just kiss him again. He laughs into it as he picks you up with ease, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his torso before he carries you towards the shower.

“He’s gonna kill me for this.” you laugh too, a little breathless as he puts you down.

He yanks down your sleep shorts and lifts you into the tub. You watch him as he removes his joggers and climbs in after you, spinning you around so your back is to him. He gropes your tits roughly, lips sucking harshly into your neck as he pinches your nipples.

“Turn on the water.” he breathes into your skin, your back arching from the sensuality of his whispered tone and almost aggressive touches. You yelp as he spanks you, covering your mouth quickly when you realise what you’ve done. “Now.”

He drops to one knee as you do as you’re told, grasping the fat of your ass while you fiddle with the shower head and water settings. You try to supress another yelp as the cold water hits you first, but you’re soon distracted as Sukuna begins to grunt against your soft skin as he kisses you fervently.

“You’re perfect.” he muses, gripping your hips and prompting you to turn and face him. He looks up at you like you were heaven sent. Like you’re a gift from designed to perfectly suit him. It makes you feel like a Goddess, and it makes you moan as he places a hand under your thigh and guides you to rest your foot on the edge of the tub. “Daddy’s perfect fuckin’ pussy.”

He kisses your clit repeatedly before he begins to make out with your cunt. You throw your head back against the tiled walls, moaning louder as you watch him take hold of his length and begin to play with himself. He moans into your folds as he strokes his length calmly.

It makes you heady.

To see him so nonchalant as he touches himself, getting off to your pleasure rather than prioritising his own. You know how good he is in bed. You’ve known what a good fuck he is from the day you met.

But you’ve never been as turned on as you are now.

When he said he wanted to claim his prize, you assumed he meant he wanted to cum. You assumed he wanted to use you so that he could achieve that. But you were wrong; you misjudged him, as you often do.

He isn’t an immature fuckboy who only wants one thing from you. He’s already had it, and he still comes back to you. He wants more. He needs more. You aren’t an object to him, and you certainly aren’t an easy screw.

Fucking you has never been his prize.

It’s you.

It’s always been you.

You tug his hair roughly as your body begins to shudder, overcome with the realisation that he cares for you and not just your body. He releases his hold of himself as he once again decides to prioritise you. He grabs your hips and buries his face even further into your cunt, his licks and laves unrelenting as he torments your clit until it can’t take anymore.

“S-Sukuna!” you cry out, convulsing as your thighs clamp around his head. He doesn’t even mind. He spanks you, but there’s no intent to it. The water makes the slap louder than you’d have liked. But, again, neither of you seem to care.

He continues to moan as he devours your release, humming into your core greedily before he finally frees you. His face shimmers as he looks up at you, a look of contentment as his features are doused in a combination of the water and your arousal.

Your arms wrap around his neck as he kisses you again, and you’re soon caged between his body and the wall. You can barely think straight as water rains down on both of you, the shower doing all it can to wash away the evidence of Sukuna’s bloody brawl from his pretty face.

“You taste so fuckin’ good baby,” he mumbles clumsily against your lips, offering you praise to consume before kissing you again. “You make me fucking crazy y’know? Think about you all the time…”

“Shut up.” you laugh.

“I mean it. Don’t laugh.” he smiles down at you as he withdraws from the kiss. “You think you know everything, don’t you?”

“We’re just fucking. You’re so—”

“You talk too fucking much. You know that?” he smirks. He turns you around with ease, pressing your cheek into the damp tiles as he sucks your neck and bites your shoulder. “Think I better bury my cock in you, might stop you from thinking so much.”

You don’t say another word, allowing him full control of your mind body and soul as you succumb to his will. There’s nothing for you to grab onto despite aimlessly searching as his cockhead teases your entrance. He notes your desperation, tugging your wrist into the small of your back as he uses it for leverage while he slowly pushes into you.

He snickers as you emit a resounding moan from being stretched to your limit. It doesn’t matter how many times you do this, you’ll never get over how truly monstrous his length is. So thick and heavy, so long and suffocating. With each slow rut of your hips, you can’t help but think his cock is closing your airways.

You feel him so deeply, so intimately, you can’t stop yourself from whimpering as he fucks you harder.

Harder.

Harder.

With no desire to rush, each stroke is slow and purposeful. Your body feels weak, and weaker still as he begins to pepper your bare skin in adoring kisses. It’s almost as if you could slip down the drain and wash away with the rest of the water.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, gruffly, grabbing your jaw to angle your face so that you’re looking at one another. “Tell me.”

“Y-You,” you answer, pathetically, and he doesn’t allow you to say another word. Not before forcing his tongue into your mouth, silencing you with a searing kissing.

“Do you want to cum, hm? Do you want to cum on daddy’s cock?”

“… Yes,” you reply, your voice nothing but a desperate rasp as you long for him to make you feel good the way only he can.

And you’re taken aback as he begins to move, you both do. Suddenly you’re facing the shower again, and you hunch forward as he reaches above you to pull it off the hook. You don’t see the grin on his face as he observes your bewilderment. You watch the metallic head lower with the intensity of a hawk.

You know what he’s doing, but you also can’t help but think you might be imagining things. He’s doing what you had done to yourself for so many years before you knew about sex toys, before you even knew why it felt so good when you let the water massage you there.

But he is.

He shoves the showerhead between your folds, the stream of water assaults your clit in a way you’d almost forgotten could be so satisfying. The pressure makes you scream, but he’s quick to cover your mouth. The shock of the showerhead had distracted you from the fact he’s still pounding into you. His pace quickens and your mind goes blank.

“Thought you didn’t want Megumi to hear? Am I making you feel too good, princesss? You wanted to cum, so you’ll cum like this.”

You nod, pitifully, too eager to finish again to think of a clever retort.

Two fingers penetrate your mouth in a bid to silence you. And you never disappoint him, it’s like he has you trained. You suck, humming contently around his digits as his thighs slam against yours again and again and again.

Your knees give in, finally, as you cum for him. He does his best to hold you in place, careful to not let you fall as your body quivers. You’re weary, he knows.

But he’s more determined than ever, now.

He puts the shower back in its place, the water becomes a blanket for you as you still continue to tremble through little aftershocks.

His movements are quicker and harsher. The warm water contrasts how you feel, how he’s holding you. He’s a behemoth of a man, without really trying you know you’ll be bruised tomorrow. Especially your thighs. The way he’s ramming into you with one goal in mind makes you heady, but all you can do is drool around his fingers.

“Fuck,” he grunts, somehow still finding the energy to fuck you harder. His fingers dig into your hips, and his breathing becomes jagged. He cums hard for you, moaning loudly as he does. It comes deep from his lungs and gives no attempt to stifle himself, it’s almost like a roar.

A beast claiming its kill.

A king claiming his prize.

“Good girl, good fucking girl,” he murmurs, once again decorating your cold skin in loving kisses.

You feel empty as he pulls out, but he doesn’t care. He pulls your body into his, wrapping his muscular arms around your frame. His lips are on yours and you feel like this is your reward. Feeling so safe and loved in his hold despite knowing what you know.

He isn’t the type of man to hold affection for, and deep down you know what you are to each other. No matter what he says you aren’t stupid. You aren’t foolish enough to think this thing between you is anything more than sex.

But right now, you don’t care.

You do feel love from him and for him.

“Will you stay?” you ask sheepishly. Despite immediately regretting asking, you can’t help but stare into his eyes as you await his answer.

And instantly, he nods. “Yeah, princess. I’ll stay.” he kisses your forehead. “Let’s get cleaned up first.”

© 2024 rinhaler

#💌 — luxe mail #📨 — requests #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #jjk x you #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu #jjk x fem!reader #tw blood #tw daddy kink #tw praise

[xhoneygirlxx]

Juicy

Eddie Munson x big boob fem!reader

summary: the heat causes you to let the girls hang free and it causes Eddie to be a flustered mess

warnings: she/her pronouns used, reader has breasts and wears feminine clothing. skin color/ethnicity is not mentioned! Eddie being a flustered cutie. idiots in love :) mentions of high school jocks being gross. 18+ MINORS DNI. smut: heavy making out, grinding, titty sucking, premature ejaculation. mentions of titty fucking and cumming on tits. shitty writing and not proofread.

a/n: hello my honey buns!! i wanted to get something out while i work on some of my current wips. i got inspired to write this bc i have a tig bitties and every time i wear a bra i feel like i'm dying and i'm too insecure to not wear one lmao. also, i just wanted to say that all different shapes and sizes of bitties are beautiful!!! also please be kind! smut is not my strong suit.

The late August heat made living in Hawkins unbearable. That might be an over exaggeration since you've never traveled anywhere outside of your town, but it still felt like the underside of satan's ballsack.

You regret agreeing to hangout with Eddie the minute you saw the afternoon weather forecast and regret it even more when you got into the metalhead's van. With no working a/c in the vehicle, there was no choice but to have the window's down to get some sort of circulation.

It wouldn't be so bad if there was a breeze but the air was dry, burning your lungs with every single intake of oxygen. You could feel the sweat rolling down your spine, making the thin cotton tank top you had on stick to your skin.

The cotton shorts you had on didn't quell any heat that you were feeling, only making your thighs stick together uncomfortably. Eddie being the angel he was, had already stopped at the gas station, picking up whatever snack he thought you might want, including a cherry icee that was already melted.

The sweat the beaded at your hairline, falling down your face like raindrops, matched the sweat on your cardboard cup. Syrupy sweetness coated your tongue as you drank it, coolness going down your throat to extinguish the flames within your body.

You needed to get out his car as soon as possible and into some air conditioning. Eddie on the other hand looked as cool as a cucumber. His cut band tshirt blowing through the warm air, black jeans tight on his lower body, and his brown curls in a low bun.

You almost wanted to hate him for being so calm, never showing any discomfort when it got hot like this. God, you hated the way he looked so relaxed, puffing on his cigarette and driving with one wrist on the steering wheel. The sun shining off of his ringed fingers, the band squeezing at his tiny waist, the black ink on his alabaster skin dancing with every move he took- he was so beautiful and it was making your temperature rise even higher.

When he pulled up to his trailer, you were up and out of the van before he could even pull the keys out of ignition. To your dismay, he was taking his sweet time getting out of the car, making you wait in the blaze of the sun. If you didn't know any better, you'd think the cheeky asshole was doing it on purpose. As he rounds the car, a plastic bag dangling from his wrist, a playful smirk paints his lips.

He's definitely doing it on purpose. Asshole.

"Where's the fire, Cherry?" he jests playfully at you, making you scowl even more.

"It's going to be in your hair if you don't hurry the hell up." You yell back at him. A small laugh leaves his pretty lips, shaking his head as he pulls out his key to unlock the door.

"I'll open the door faster if you say please." You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. Playing up the part even more, Eddie takes his time putting the key into the door.

"Oh please Eddie, would you be so kind and unlock the door?" You smile sarcastically up at him. He mimics you, straight white teeth flashing brightly in your eyes.

"Now was that so hard?" Scoffing at him, you push right past his body and enter the trailer.

The small a/c unit the sits in the window works overtime, buzzing and rattling loudly, to cool down the small trailer. It feels like heaven when you walk in, the immediate temperature drop makes goosebumps rise on your skin.

Plopping down on the well loved couch, you sprawl your limbs out trying to cool every inch of your skin. Placing the bag of treats on the table, Eddie makes his way into the kitchen to retrieve a beer from the fridge.

"Is Wayne off today?" The absence of the older man only coming to your attention.

"Yeah, he went to Darla's house." Eddie mutters his response as he works the cap of the beer bottle off.

Darla was Wayne's new girlfriend he had been seeing the past couple months. You had fallen victim to many of Eddie's rants about his uncle coming home late and never calling letting his nephew know he was safe.

Humming a response, you turn your attention to the television that's currently playing reruns of The Golden Girls.

Now that you've been in the cool air for not even five minutes, the creeping heat comes back into your body. The culprit being your chest, heat radiating in the cups of your bra. It was uncomfortable already with the weight on your back and shoulders, not to mention the sweat that collected in the fabric.

Jumping up abruptly from your slouched position, you work your hands around your back preparing to take off the article of clothing. . Before you it off, you remember that you're not in your own home and that it might make Eddie uncomfortable.

As he walks in from the kitchen, sipping on his chilled beer, he catches your stare. Raising a brow and removing the bottle from his mouth, he turns to you.

"You okay over there?" He questions you, eyeing your posture and how you look like you've been caught in the act of something you shouldn't be doing.

"I need to take my bra off but I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

Oh boy is he caught of guard, choking on his spit loudly. His cheeks are tinted a deep red, eyes wide and bulging from his face. Of course he didn't care, you guys were friends and he always wanted you comfortable. The only problem was that you would be braless, sitting next to him.

It's not like you haven't before, any time you wore big baggy shirts he knew you didn't have a bra on, but the extra material of your shirt blocked the visuals of your loose breasts.

When you cock an eyebrow at him, he shakes his head, brown curls bouncing with the movement.

"Y-yeah sure. Ya know what we Munson's say, this land is your land, or whatever." He chuckles nervously eyeing you from where he stands across from you.

Letting out a roaring laugh, you reach your hands under the hem of your shirt, undoing the hook.

"I'm pretty sure Woody Guthrie said that, Eds." Forcing out a small laugh, he watches as you pull the straps down your arms and then pulling the material out from under your white tank top.

Yeah he's going to die right here in the middle of his living room. When you finally pull it from your sticky skin and discard it somewhere on the floor, your nipples pebble up from the cold air. You lean your head back and release a sigh of satisfaction.

You don't see how Eddie's drinking you in right now, how he's staring at the way your nipples are visible through the wet cotton of your shirt, or how he can see the fullness of your chest.

It was no secret that you had a bigger bust than most of the girls in town, earning the nickname of Cherry from all the jocks at school, which you took pride in and eventually took ownership of.

Unlike the jocks, Eddie never made any comments about your bust. Not that he didn't think of them when he was beating off in his room every night, but he never commented on them to you which you appreciated. To him you were just you, double d's or not.

While you were in pure bliss, Eddie was living a nightmare come true. The girl he's had a crush on since middle school is braless in his home, right in front of him. He didn't know how he was going to sit next to you now with the way blood was rushing to his cock, the stiff material of his jeans didn't help his discomfort.

"So, what are we watching today?" Cracking your eyes open to look at your best friend, you could still see him standing in the same spot, staring right at your chest.

Oh. OH. He was staring at your chest. You could have so much fun with this, give him a little taste of his own medicine for his little stunt earlier, making you wait longer in the heat.

"Eds?" Your tone was sinfully sweet. Placing your arms on either side of you, you used your forearms to push your boobs together as best as you can.

"Huh? O-oh yeah. Um, we ugh, we could watch Nightmare on Elm Street." He was tripping on his tongue every other word.

Quickly moving from his spot, he knelt down in front of the television to pop in the horror movie. The boy who was so unbothered by record breaking heat, was now a sweaty, heavy breathing mess because of you.

After starting the movie, he slowly retreats to the couch but as far away from you as humanly possible. Maybe it wasn't that he was hot and bothered by you, maybe he was just uncomfortable with your state of dress.

For the first twenty minutes of the film that's all you could think, trying to figure out what you could do to make the situation better. Without thinking, you take a lollipop out of the bag of goodies he bought, popping it right into your mouth.

You took your time, swirling your tongue around the red candy, hallowing your cheeks every so often. You weren't really paying attention to what you were doing, staring straight ahead at the glowing screen. Eddie was paying attention though, growing unimaginably harder than before.

The movement of Eddie taking the pillow from behind his back and placing it right on his crotch, brings your attention the boy next to you. He wasn't as smooth as he thought, the placement of the pillow gave it away right away. His sweat soaked bangs, bouncing leg, and red cheeks definitely gave it away.

Removing the lollipop from your mouth, you place it down on the discarded wrapper laying on the table. Turning to him, your knees criss cross, you say his name softly.

His head turns with speed when you call him, chocolate brown eyes replaced with the darkness of his pupils.

"Are you okay? You don't seem, well you seem bothered. If it's me not wearing a bra, Eddie I can put it back on." You sputter out, worry rising in your stomach at the thought of making him feel awkward with your braless tits.

Releasing a loud sigh, he runs a hand down his face. "Cherry, I'm not bothered by you not wearing a bra. Well, okay, I am but I'm not uncomfortable."

He's staring right at you, almost like he's waiting for you to catch on but you don't. Eyebrows furrowed, you try to understand what he had just said to you. Before you can ask, he reiterates himself.

"Baby, I'm not bothered because you don't have a bra on. I'm very much the opposite and because I'm a gentleman, I'm trying to make myself calm down the best I can. It's just hard to do that when you're deep throating a sucker right next to me." The last part comes out as a joke, dimpled smile to prove it.

So you were right, he was hot and bothered by you. Just like he made you wait for him, you made him wait even longer to rid himself of his discomfort happening in his pants.

"Well Eds, you know if you wanted to see them all you had to say was please." You tease and he groans loudly, throwing his head back.

"Please, Cherry." He begs and you give in, lying back on the old couch. Beckoning him over to you, you spread your legs to give him room. Like a panther, he pounces on you, smacking his lips to yours.

Its heavy and animalistic the way your tongues attack each other. The lingering taste of beer mixes with the cherry from your candy. When you push your hips up to get some friction on your aching heat, he whimpers in your mouth.

He takes your motions as permission to grind into you, the pressure making both of you moan in unison. Pulling away from your mouth so you two can breathe, he moves to his next target.

The warmth of lips meet the chilled skin of your neck, he kisses all around the precious skin to find that sweet spot. When a wanton moan falls from your red stained lips, he thinks he's hit the jackpot. Sucking and kissing the spot under your ear, you're sure there will be a blotch of purple there.

You hiss out when he runs his teeth along the spot, jerking your hips up in excitement. Moving his face so that he's looking at you, you can see the spit that coat his red swollen lips, the lust the pool in his eyes. He's so pretty like this, so fucking pretty and he's all yours in this moment.

"Can I see your pretty tits, Cherry?" He asks so sweetly, like he didn't just sinfully makeout with you. Nodding in approval, he shakes his head at you.

"I need words, princess." He waits for you, who is currently looking up at him like he's hung the stars and moon. You look so fucked out and so disheveled. He's always known he was going to marry you but when he looks at you he has no doubt that he's going to marry you.

"Please, Eds."

That's all he needs to hear before he's pulling the front of your shirt down, revealing your chest to him. He stays there for a minute, looking unbashful at your tits, like they were the eight wonder of the world.

His unwavering gaze starts to make you insecure, worrying that maybe they weren't as nice as he thought they would be. They were heavy and slightly sagged due to the weight, you had stretch marks that decorated the skin like a zebra.

Pulling your arms up to cover yourself, he grips your wrists and pulls them down. Moving his gaze back up to you, his eyes are much softer.

"Don't hide, please don't hide. Not when I've waited so long to see these." A tingling sensation fills your face, making you smile giddily up at him. When you nod at him, he goes in face first into your chest.

"Fuck, I've dreamt of this for so long." You want to respond but you can't when his mouth is placing pecks to the delicate skin of your breast.

Resuming his motions from before, his hips roll right into yours like a wave crashing on the shore. He's everywhere, filling all your senses. Eddie.Eddie.Eddie. That's all that's in your mind, especially when he places your pebbled nipple in his mouth.

"Fuck, Eddie." You hiss out, reaching your hand to the nape of his neck, placing a gentle pressure to keep him there. His switches between swirling his tongue around the numb and sucking on it.

His other hand snakes up to your abandoned breast, groping the fat of it before his fingers pinch the nipple. It's sinful the way it feels, his hard cock hitting right where you need him, the warm of his mouth, and the moans that you release.

Eddie groans, causing your skin to vibrate. Removing himself from your abused breast, he moves to the other one, finally giving it the same attention as the other.

"Fuck, you're so hot." He groans out, eyes closed in ecstasy, high off the scent and taste of you. His movements start getting faster causing him to moan even louder.

Moving away from your chest, he looks down at you, the way your tits bounce with every roll of your hips. He looks at the mark he made on your neck, and how your skin shines with his saliva and your sweat. Your pupils are blown wide, lips puffy and shiny. Then he moves his eyes back to your tits, imagining what it would feel like to run his dick on your sternum, how pretty they would look coated in his pearly white cum, and how hot it would be to titty fuck you.

Every possible scenario plays out in his head when he looks at you and it's too much. With one finally grunt, pulled deep from his stomach, he hangs stops all his motions, collapsing onto of you.

Dazed and slightly confused, you let him catch his breathe. When he brings his face out from the crook of your neck, he has a boyish smile pulled on his cheeks.

"Ed, did you just-"

"Cum in my pants like a teenager? Absofuckinglutely, but if give me about five minutes I'll give you everything you want." You reach your hand up to his face, pushing some of the loose hair that fell from his ponytail, behind his hair.

"If you say please, pretty boy."

He didn't need five minutes, instantly getting hard from the sultry tone of your voice.

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#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x fem!reader

[inuyashaluver]

boyfriend - leah williamson

leah williamson x reader

description: in which your girlfriend is just the definition of boyfriend

warnings: swearing, a little suggestive

a/n: i was writing my requests and got the overwhelming urge to write this because leah is just the definition of boyfriend, i don’t make the rules, i also saw the picture of her this morning and died so here you go lmao

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

your girlfriend, leah, was the literal definition of boyfriend. and yeah, maybe that didn’t make sense, but it did to you.

leah williamson was incredibly protective, supportive and disciplined to the public eye, but to you, she was just your leah.

your leah found comfort in burying her face in the crook of your neck to avoid the rest of the world.

your leah loved to hold your hand or any part of your body at every given moment so everyone knew you were hers and she was yours.

your leah was incredibly stubborn, especially when it came to you. your leah worshipped the ground you walked on.

—

you and leah grew up together in the arsenal youth teams, quickly gravitating towards each other when you both realised how passionate you were about football, exactly like the other person.

when you both got selected for the england teams, you two grew extremely close, finding comfort in just being around each other. you both brought out the best in each other and everyone could see it, both on and off the pitch.

you and leah didn’t have many issues surrounding your years of pining, the two of you would shamelessly flirt from the time you were both 19 and changing that dynamic of being best friends to something more.

“baby, do not go on this date” leah pleads as you held up a forth outfit up to your body, “what do you think?” you turn to face her, a scowl evident on her 19 year old face as she sat on the edge of your bed.

“you look gorgeous, that’s not the point, (y/n)” she spits out, “i don’t want you to go,” leah crosses her arms over her chest and glares at you chuckling in the mirror.

“i want to go, lee baby” you tease, making the girl huff in frustration when you brought out yet another top against you.

“fine, wear the second outfit, see if i care,” she grumbles, picking at her cuticles while you smile at her through the mirror.

you were just pulling her leg, there wasn’t really a date, you just loved to tease leah but you also wanted your relationship to progress, to finally call her yours.

“babe” you call out, moving to stand in between her spread legs, she looks up at you curiously, her glare still a little evident as you smiled down at her.

“what?” she sighs, your hands make your ways to her shoulders, massaging them gently and feeling her relax under your touch.

“there’s no date, you git” you chuckle, leah tenses again, “sorry?” you really couldn’t help but laugh at her face of relief but also mischief as she looked up at you.

“i’m fucking with you, there’s no date” you laugh, leah grabs the sides of your hips and chucks you onto your bed, moving to straddle your hips as she tickled your sides.

“you’re such a little shit!” she laughs, smiling brightly at the bright laughs coming out of your mouth.

“why would you tell me there was a date?” she breathes out, lacing your fingers together as she pinned them by the sides of your head.

“wanted to see how you’d react” you say breathlessly, your chest heaving while an affectionate smile adorns your features.

“you seemed a little jealous, williamson?” you say teasingly, leah shakes her head, pinning you by your hips to the bed with her own, “fuck off, i was not” she defends, giving your hands a squeeze as you laugh up at her.

your heart was beating out of your chest, so was leah’s, but in a good way. a weirdly familiar way.

“you so were” you smirk, “i don’t want you to go” you mock her accent, she rolls her eyes fondly, lifting your hand up and threatening to bite your fingers.

you yelp when her teeth actually does graze your pointer finger, making her chuckle against your skin.

her eyes flicker between your own before falling to your lips, subconsciously wetting hers with her tongue as she looked back up at your eyes.

“looking a little flushed there, gorgeous, you alright?” she teases, you shake your head at her, “i’m fine, but you look a little flushed there, babe, anything you want to tell me?” you tease right back.

she giggles at your words, kissing the corner of your mouth, your breath hitched at how close she was to your lips, feeling her smirk against your skin as she trailed kisses along your cheeks.

she pulls back, dangerously close to your face as she chuckles, both of your pupils were blown out, cheeky grins evident on both of your faces.

leah puts you out of your misery and gives you that kiss you’d both been dreaming of, it was as perfect as a first kiss could go.

a little inexperienced at first but quickly learning from each other as it continued. you hummed against leah’s lips and she can’t help but grin into the kiss.

the kiss lasted for a couple of seconds before she let go of you, pulling you to sit up cross legged in front of her while she offered you a sheepish smile.

“be my girlfriend?” she breathes out, you nod instantly, making your way into her lap and kissing her until the air was knocked out from your lungs.

when you both pulled away, you tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear and leah’s heart fluttered. at the gesture but also the fact you were doing it as her girlfriend. “took you long enough” you grin, she pinches your hip and smirks when you squirm in her lap.

“how about i wear outfit number two and we go out on our own date” you smile cheekily, she presses a quick, tender kiss to your lips in response,

“you’ve got yourself a deal” she whispers against your lips, her hands gently squeezing your hips as you ended up in another kiss.

—

in present times, you and leah moved in together, both of you were extremely successful in your football careers.

leah was the captain of the england senior team and you couldn’t be more proud, showing her how much you loved that armband the first time she wore it.

you and leah had so much love for each other it was sickeningly sweet. both of you were head over heels, affection an understatement for the two of you.

it was obvious in the way you acted around her, dropping anything and everything if she needed something. telling her verbally how much you loved her no matter where you were. giving her heart eyes every two seconds that had her stomach swarming with butterflies.

and in leah’s case, she’s been called a simp way more than she’d like to admit but she didn’t mind. it was true after all.

—

“baby, you’ll get sick like that” leah scolds as you walk out of the change room onto the pitch where she was waiting for you for a pre match lap, your puffer unzipped in just your training kit.

“i’m fine, love” you smile, walking up to her and promptly puckering your lips up at her, she shakes her head fondly, pressing a couple of kisses to your lips while you sighed happily.

she pulls away from you, tugging you closer by the sides of your puffer and zipping it up for you. you smile at her appreciatively, she pinches your cheek gently before grabbing your hand and interlacing it with hers as you both walked around, posing for photos together with cheesy grins if needed.

your cheeks were a little red, not only from leah but the cold as well. leah moves you to stand in front of her again, her arms wrapping around you and prompting you to do the same as she pulled you closer.

she kisses your cheeks repeatedly, feeling them warm up under her lips as she spreads her love on both. “still cold?” she says softly, you nod with a cheeky grin, “very” she narrows her eyes at you amusingly but continues spreading kisses over your entire face, relishing in the soft giggles you were rewarding her with.

suddenly, she gasps, reaching into her pockets with an excited smile. “i forgot!” she exclaims, pulling out two heat packs that were warming up in her pockets, she only did it for you.

she places both of them against your cheeks and you smile happily, letting leah press little kisses to your lips again as she held the packs gently on your face, making sure not to burn you. she would whisper in conversation with you in between the kisses, your stomach lurching at her softness.

“ugh, you two make me sick” beth dry wretches, victoria and alessia laugh while watching you both pull away, “fuck off, beth” leah groans, tugging you impossibly closer as you tucked your head under her chin.

“i’ll remind you she’s my girlfriend, bethany” you tease, leah kisses your temple softly, “you think i don’t know that? you’re attached at the hip” she teases, “leave them, bethy, they’re cute” alessia coos, you send her a little wink of appreciation.

“they’re cute until you catch them fucking,” beth exclaims, you and leah both roll your eyes in unison, “you came to our home, unannounced, uninvited, with the spare key” leah grits out, holding onto you protectively. your hands rub up and down her back in an attempt to calm her down but leah was your defender.

“i told you i was coming over!” beth accuses, “you did fucking not!” leah yells, alessia and victoria laugh at the the thought of you and leah being caught. especially knowing how protective leah was of you. let’s just say a lot of yelling happened that day.

the bickering went back and forth for a bit as you and leah kept cuddling up together.

“you could have the same if you just go up to viv” leah shrugs, beth rolls her eyes at that, “i don’t need to be attached to my girlfriend to show our love” beth defends, “the kisses are nice, beth” you smile, looking up at leah with a smile.

beth chuckles and seems to give in, you and leah giggle as you watch beth run over and latch herself to viv, watching her struggle for a bit before giving up and pulling her into an embrace similar to yours and leah’s.

“we should be couple’s therapists,” you rest your chin on her chest, looking up at her with a soft smile. she kisses you softly again, “we can be whatever you want to be” she says cheekily, making you chuckle when her kisses make their way to your neck, jokingly biting you a couple of times to make you laugh.

—

whenever you and leah were in a large crowd, her true boyfriend nature came out that you just ate up. you were both at the pride of britain awards, her hand firmly planted on the small of your back as you walked around, posing for cameras on the red carpet.

when you two got pulled for interviews, leah tucked you into her side as you answered questions, she would focus on you intently, nodding along with your words and smiling proudly as you talked.

when you’d catch her gaze, her bright smile would make you falter slightly and you’d have to recover while her hand rubbed gently up and down your back.

you both answer generic interview until you approach a very special one. “it’s one nil” the interviewer says, leah and your eyes visibly widen, leah pressing her hand into your back as you both approached.

“are you joking?” leah smiles, “no it is!” the interviewer exclaims, “arsenal?” leah questions excitedly, “did you hear that?” leah grins at you, “yeah, baby i did” you chuckle affectionately, your head falling to her shoulder for a minute while she chats excitedly with the interviewer.

“this girl bleeds arsenal” you smile up at her, she nods without a second thought, showing off her earring with a proud smile.

“so, leah, if you had to pick between (y/n) and arsenal, who would you pick?” the interviewer says jokingly, though leah takes it seriously,

“now, hold on, i’m gonna go with my girl in arsenal, without a doubt” she says smugly, seemingly proud of her answer.

you laugh brightly, kissing her cheek fondly as she grins, “she was joking” you laugh, leah looks down at you cheekily, “don’t care” she taunts, her hand moving to rest on your hip to answer the rest of the interview.

you both got invited to an after party, making your rounds together with bright smiles, seeing people you haven’t seen for ages.

everytime you would talk to leah, she would bend her head to your level to make sure you were speaking directly into her ear, not wanting to miss out on anything you say.

and so, when you mentioned to leah you wanted to go home, you both left promptly with leah leading you out.

—

another instance of your girlfriend just radiating boyfriend energy was when you both needed to go on a bus for the lionesses on camp.

leah was talking to keira and georgia who she hadn’t seen in a while so you went on the bus first.

a few of the younger girls send you a wave so you go over with a bright smile. sitting next to maya as you entertained the young ones as they teased you about your love life.

it was until your girlfriend got on the bus with a little scowl at realising you left without her. “who do you think you are?” leah grumbles, grabbing your hand and dragging you out of the seat you were in to another one closer to the back.

you hear the laughs of the girls as leah drags you from your seat.

“leah!” you reprimand with a laugh, “who?” she whips her head towards you, about to shove you into the window seat.

“love,” you sigh, she smiles cheekily, “that’s better” she pushes you towards the window seat, draping your legs over hers as you both chatted.

leah snapped a photo of you and smiled at the result, adding it to her folder dedicated to you. “you’re so cute” leah coos, kissing you quickly and dropping her grumpy attitude. “you’re cuter” you grin, pressing another kiss to her lips before you snuggle up to her.

“i’m running out of storage” leah frowns, going to her camera roll and gasping at how many photos you have.

you lean over and gasp as well, grabbing her hand with the phone in it and looking at the screen, “baby, oh my god, what’ve you got in there” you laugh,

“i don’t know, let’s see” she makes you sit closer while you both went through her camera roll, laughing at some of the funnier pictures and shoving her phone down at the more explicit ones.

“i need to revisit this picture later” she winks at you when one of you and leah during that first day of captaincy. “leah cathrine” you warn, she smirks, “sorry” she coughs.

your heart quickened when you realised how many photos she had of you, making up almost all of her camera roll.

“lovey, you can delete some photos of me, half of them are duplicates” you chuckle, leah looks at you offendedly, “excuse me? they are all different” she scoffs, flicking between two nearly identical photos while pointing out little differences.

“babe, that’s the same picture” you laugh brightly, leah stifles her own laugh, “it is not! god, just break up with me then, you awful woman, can’t even have a picture of my wife in my phone without you on my ass” she grins,

“wife? i don’t remember you proposing?” you tease, “in due time, my girl” she smiles, kissing you breathlessly until you were completely flushed in the face.

“here, i’ll help you delete some photos,” you hold your hand out for her phone and she holds it instead, “you delete a single one and i’ll really break up with you” she mocks, you gasp offendedly

“i’m wounded” you pout, she makes quick work of fixing it with a kiss, “kissed it better” she grins, squeezing your thigh gently as your head fell to her shoulder.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill - just pretend it’s you, ily beffy

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leahwilliamsonn: she’s baby girl

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yourname: it was brilliant, it was powerful, it was leah williamson!!!!

↳ leahwilliamsonn: stop it

↳ yourname: never, it’s literally my job

↳ leahwilliamsonn: your job is football

↳ yourname: my job is annoying you for the rest of my life

↳ leahwilliamsonn: can’t wait xx

bethmead_: sick

↳ yourname: stop hating, bethany

↳ leahwilliamsonn: yeah, bethany

↳ viviannemiedema: yeah, bethany

↳ bethmead_: the betrayal

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso one shot #woso imagine #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader