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peachsukii · 3 months

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₊✩‧₊◜ can’t stop thinking about the possibility of getting caught with Bakugo in public on a patrol shift.

꒰ tags & content ꒱ 18+ MDNI! Voyeurism, dirty talk, some praise/pet names, biting/scratching, unprotected sex, overstimulation, cream pie

“Mmph, mm!”

“Shh, baby, ya gotta keep it down,” Bakugo coos, tenderly stroking your hips before driving his cock into you full force again, pressing your back up against the brick wall of the alleyway. “Someone’ll hear how good your gettin’ fucked.”

It was a slow patrol day, no emergency calls or distress signals for the last hour or so. By some miracle, the two of you were stationed to neighboring sectors for the second time this week. Your schedules were opposite as of late, only getting to see each other in passing or on a day off, so you took advantage of the time you were given.

Bakugo bounced you off his hips with his thrusts, holding you effortlessly as he drilled away at your drenched pussy, slick frothing up between you two. The way your walls clenched around him and massaged every inch of his thick cock has his head spinning. You had one hand over your mouth and one on his shoulder, desperately trying to cover up your ascending moans.

“Ahh Dynamight!” you whine as your hand slips from your face, biting your bottom lip - hard enough to leave it pulsing and flushed. You’re too delirious and fucked out to keep your volume hushed, every single nerve in your body on fire with each buck of his hips.

“That’s-mmph-right, ba-fuck-by, only the number two hero can...fuck you this fuckin’ good,” Bakugo growls, pulling you by the waist to plunge deeper into your tight cunt, hot breath tickling your neck. The angle makes your eyes roll back, swearing he's piercing your cervix as drool threatens to drip from the corners of your mouth. You claw at his chest, viciously groping his pecs and twisting his clothed nipples beneath your fingers. An animalistic groan erupts from his throat as his pacing becomes brutal, the pleasure becoming unbearable in your belly. Your slurring words as they're spilling from your lips, garbled by the moans bubbling up from deep within you.

The communicator in both your ears beeps simultaneously and the general alert of "Assistance Requested in Sector...," signaling any nearby heroes for help. Bakugo kisses your jaw repeatedly, nipping at the skin in-between each peck of his lips.

"Go'head princess, cum all over my cock for me."

The thread inside you snaps violently, the pressure of your orgasm wracking your body so hard that you're close to passing out from the rush. You're vibrating and clamping down on him with newfound strength that he's gasping for breath when he feels the flood of slick coat his dick, dripping from your folds, down his length and onto the ground between thrusts. There's an audible sloshing as Bakugo's tempo becomes uneven, chasing his own release.

"Fuck! Y've never...squeezed me like this...you're so fuckin'-mm-tight!"

His words are strained as he latches onto your collarbone, canines sinking through your hero suit and piercing your skin. A breathless scream escapes you as you feel the explosive release against your walls, hot spurts of seed flowing into you and combining with your own spend. Bakugo's knees buckle and threaten to let him collapse as he catches you - steadying himself to hold you and use the wall as support. His crimson gaze meets yours, darting between your parted lips and lidded eyes.

"Ch-christ baby, that was insane," he rasps through harsh breathing. His follow up kiss is rough, a silent thank you between clashing tongues and bruised lips. He breaks the kiss to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, sweat collecting on your suit from his forehead.

"I'll take th' call, your shift's up anyways. I'll swing by your place after, 'kay?" Bakugo whispers as he's putting you down slowly, pulling out of you as he keeps you upright on jelly legs. All you can do is nod and smile, readjusting your hero suit to its natural state. He's fixing his own clothes and notices you're shaking like a leaf, struggling to stand up straight.

"Y'okay to get home? I can take ya if you can't walk. 's my fault anyways."

"Y-yeah, I think so. I'll just sit here for a few minutes," you say, sliding down the wall and plopping to the ground. "I legitimately think you fucked me into another dimension for a hot second."

Bakugo snickers, kneeling down to cradle your cheek and kiss you again, but this time, it's featherlight.

"Glad to have ya back in this one."

You say goodbye, waving to him as he leaves the alley to answer the earlier distress call. His voice travels through your intercom as he responds and heads to the neighboring sector, a few explosions ringing through the air. The pulsing in your center calms to a flutter within the next few minutes and allows you to finally get to your feet. Good thing you're next scheduled patrol isn't for a few days - you're gonna need some recovery time after a fucking like that.

#bakugo x reader #bakugo smut #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo #bakugou headcanons #bakugo drabble #bakugo imagine #bakugo headcanons #my hero academia headcanons #my hero academia smut #☆.rei writes

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sanguineterrain · 10 months

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window pains | jason todd

Summary: He's got a habit of coming in through the window. You want him to start staying... and using the door.

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings/tags: injured Jason Todd (he's okay dw), angst, pining, mentions of Jason's death.

A/N: sooo.... i guess i'm a dc girlie now. just a reminder that every character i write will always be 18+!!! this is probably canon divergent but we make our own canon.

If you like this fic and want to see more, please let me know through reblogs ♡

the divider

"Can't you enter my apartment like a normal person?"

"You know who you're talking to, right?"

"You're getting blood on my carpet, Todd."

It doesn't really matter. He'll come back and scrub it out as soon as his ribs are whole. And fuck if he's not good at getting blood out of surfaces. Jason Todd ought to start a housekeeping column.

You catch his limp as he climbs over the windowsill. It almost topples him, but he gets to the couch before it does. He doesn't make a sound.

That had freaked you out the first few times he'd stumbled through your window. Once, he came with part of a windshield wiper impaled in his shoulder. He'd lain on your couch so still and so quiet, you'd thought Red Hood had croaked in your apartment. Which would not have been a good look for you. Or maybe it would. Depends on who you ask.

Sometimes you want to tell him to make sounds. To hiss and grunt and complain. To grab your wrist so you'll slow down as you pull thread through flesh.

But it's not your place to request such a thing. You don't know where you reside in Jason Todd's life, but it's not somewhere where you can request to hear him hurt.

Outwardly, his injuries aren't bad-looking. He takes off his helmet and tosses it somewhere under the coffee table. You offer a hand to help him lie down on the couch—he doesn't take it.

"Jesus Christ, Jay." You suck in a sharp breath and peel back his bloody suit. "What'd you do?"

"Took a midnight stroll in the Botanical Gardens. Why, what'd you do?"

You frown, eyebrows pinching in the center of your forehead. Jason's stomach is mottled with purple and red bruises. There's a sticky gash right above his hip. A knife. Or a sword, maybe. Apparently, swords are commonplace in Gotham.

"How'd they get you?" you ask.

It's a rule-break. Jason's number one policy: don't ask questions.

You always do. Even when it was new, this… thing between you two, you'd ask. Who were they? Why did they hurt you? Did you hurt them back?

The last one, you always know the answer to.

"There were, like, ten of them," he says. "Cut me some slack, will ya?"

He has a cut across his lips. A ringed finger that caught on his skin, you guess. You wonder if he'd wince if you kissed him. If he'd wince at the pain or the kiss itself. If you'd know the difference.

Rage suddenly cuts through you. It makes your hands careless, cruel; you pull the bandage around his waist too tight. Jason coils up slightly.

"Jesus—ever heard of bedside manner?" he asks, looking at you through his lashes.

"Ever heard of not breaking into someone's apartment and making them patch you up?"

"I don't make you," Jason says easily. "You wouldn't do it if you didn't want to."

That only increases your rage. Because he's right. You wouldn't be here if you didn't want to be. You'd have kicked him out four first aid kits ago if you minded.

You yank down his shirt and pack up the kit. Jason shifts on the couch. A sliver of skin above his waistband is still exposed. You have to turn your head to force your gaze away.

"No bandaids?" he asks. "All my cuts'll be exposed to the elements."

"You can put them on yourself."

His cheek could use one. And his eyebrow. You're not in the mood.

Jason doesn't say anything in response to that. You get up to put the kit back under the sink.

"Can I crash here?"

"Do what you want," you say, suddenly exhausted. Like it's you who just went six rounds with Gotham's scumbags.

You peek over the kitchen counter when you hear rustling and the couch springs squeak. Jason leans heavily on the arm of the couch, reaching for the window. You walk over and stand in front of him.

"What're you doing?" you ask.

"You want me to go," he says flatly. "So I'm going."

"I didn't say that, I said—"

"I can read between the lines."

"If you could read between the lines as well as you think you can, we wouldn't be in this situation," you say.

"What situation?"

You turn your head. "Nothing."

Jason steps towards the window. You block him again.

"What is the matter with you?" you ask. "You're injured. Lie down."

"I'm not your responsibility," he says, glaring. "I'm leaving."

"No, you're not. And since you're allergic to using the door, you don't have a choice."

Jason's eyebrow rises. "Are you saying you'd physically prevent me from leaving?"

You lift your chin. "If that's what it takes."

"Hm. Can't tell if your confidence is stupid or brave."

"Lie the fuck down, Todd."

His lip curls. "I don't stay where I'm not welcome."

Sometimes you forget how young he is. Not that you're not also young, but, well… you don't feel your youth as acutely as other people your age might. It's something you two have in common.

Here, in the gritty glow of Gotham, you are reminded that Jason Todd died once. Before he finished school. Before he fell in love.

Your stomach churns every time you see that Y-shaped scar on his torso, strapped over him like a chain.

"I didn't say that you're not welcome," you say.

"Yeah, well, you didn't have to."

He sags against the couch and it occurs to you that he's as exhausted as you feel.

"Can you just—" You touch his bicep. He winces even though there's no injury there. "Can you just lie down?"

You stare at each other for another minute. Slowly, Jason lays down. His eyes are alert instead of heavy with sleep. Instantly, you feel guilty for making him think he has to be cautious around you. His hand curls protectively over his stomach.

"Do you want a blanket?" you ask.

He squints. "It's August."

"I know, I… I thought maybe the blood loss made you cold."

"'M fine. Perks of being risen from the dead."

You watch him get settled for a minute. He shifts his weight to his uninjured side and meets your gaze. His eyes are gray in the weak light.

"You're tired of me," he says.

Your head snaps up. "No, I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm not tired of you, Jay."

You see it. The fear. He thinks this is the last time you'll let him in. He doesn't know you can't lock him out. You won't.

You get up and go to get the kit from the sink again. Jason follows your movement the whole time. His face scrunches in confusion when you sit in front of the couch and unzip the kit.

You pull out the tiny red bandaids. You'd bought them as a joke, initially. It had made Jason laugh and that had been reason enough to keep buying them. And then he let you actually put them on.

You peel the adhesive off of one and gently stick it on his cheek. He blinks at you, thick, dark lashes kissing the corners of his eyes.

"I'm not tired of you," you say softly.

"I'd be tired of me."

"You keep this city safe. How could I be tired of Gotham's defender?"

Jason scowls and turns his head into the cushion before you can put the second bandaid.

"I'm not its defender. The others protect this city a hundred times better. Nightwing does it with a smile on his face."

"I like that you go out there even when it's hard, Jay," you say.

He doesn't respond. You lean in, so close that you can count the freckles on his neck.

"Can I finish putting the bandaids on?" you ask.

"I don't need 'em."

"You do. You need another on your forehead."

"It'll heal fine without it."

Your shoulders bunch like a cat on defense. You grab his cheek (gently, always gently) and his head whips to yours in surprise.

"Jason Todd, I am not tired of you. I'm tired of the fact that you only come by when you need fixing."

He scowls. "I never asked you to fix me. If you want me to leave, I'll leave."

"I don't want you to leave, I want you to stay!" you burst.

Jason scoffs. "No, you don’t. I'll overstay my welcome real fast."

"Maybe I care about you on purpose!" you say, voice rising. "Maybe I didn't stumble through a window; maybe I walked through the door and bought the bandaids and learned how to stitch wounds because I wanted to."

He suddenly looks overcome by grief. The agony in his face startles you.

"I don't know how to use the door anymore," he says quietly. "All I do is stumble through windows."

Your hand slips off of his cheek. Jason closes his eyes; they fly open when you stick the second bandaid above his eyebrow.

"You can come in any way you want to," you say, face an inch away from his. "As long as you come back to me."

His gaze darts to your mouth. You don't kiss him hard. He breaks anyway.

You avoid the right side of his mouth entirely, not wanting to pull at his cut. Jason shudders into your mouth. You cup his pulse through his neck and it quickens.

His eyes are wet when you pull away. His chest heaves like he's been swinging through the city.

"I wanna try to use the door," he says.

You touch the bandaid on his cheek, humming.

"Then I'll leave it unlocked."

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagine #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x gender neutral reader #batman fanfiction #dc fanfic #batman imagine #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n

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mermaidgirl30 · 9 days

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✨Tongue Tied✨

Dbf! Joel Miller x fem! reader

A/N: This just came out of nowhere when I was eating cherries, so here we are 😂 I was going to post this one later, but it was just sitting in my drafts.

Summary: Your dad’s best friend, Joel Miller, finds you in the kitchen eating some cherries. For your birthday, he gives you something that’ll make you a little tongue tied.

Rating: 18+ Only MDNI

Word Count: 3.1k

Tags: Smut, flirting, teasing, eating cherries, age gap (reader is 24, Joel is 51), oral receiving (fem), fingering, dirty talk, sneaking around, switching POVs

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The air is warm as the summer breeze blows through the open window of the lit up kitchen. After a night of celebrating your twenty-fourth birthday, your parents decided to throw you a surprise barbecue. A few of your friends came, a couple of the neighbors meandered around the backyard, but one certain person was here that set your core on fire. Joel Miller. Your dad’s best friend, his favorite fishing buddy.

Joel was hot, like extremely hot. And not to mention he was fifty-one. Twice your age and off limits, but that made it that much more fun to tease him.

He’s in his signature blue flannel shirt today, sleeves rolled up to his elbows to expose strong arms and tanned skin, large veins threading down his forearms, and large meaty hands that could probably split you in two. His dark jeans hug his strong thighs, and his tousled grey speckled hair is slicked back just begging to be played with.

You can’t lie that you dream about him at night, can’t pretend you don’t imagine your fingers are his own that slip inside your dripping core and talk you through your orgasm. Attagirl. Say my name. Yeah, jus’ like that, sweetheart. Such a good fuckin’ girl.

You bet he’s the best kisser, bet his tongue can take you to places that your fingers never could. You imagine his dark smoldering eyes all blown out and wide, his grey threaded beard tickling against your neckline while his tongue slides against your glistening skin. It’s only a dream, a fantasy your mind has conjured up to fill some void. But you’re determined to win him over one way or another. He will be yours.

And it’s not like he’s completely innocent. You’ve seen him catch your eye once or twice, have caught him checking you out when you wore that pink bikini to the pool a few weeks ago. He can pretend all he wants, but the man fantasizes about you, too.

You sigh and pick another cherry from the big bowl sitting on the ceramic kitchen counter, popping it into your mouth as the sweet flavor slides down your throat. You lean against the counter and pull your short yellow dress down, the material barely grazing your tanned thighs.

You pop another cherry into your mouth and enjoy the quiet kitchen, taking just a few moments to pull yourself together until you have to go back outside. You’re sure they’re looking for you, but you had to get away from the heat of Joel’s smoldering stare.

Another minute goes by until you hear boots scuffing against the tiled floor. When you look up from under your long lashes, you freeze in place and gulp down the cherry that almost gets stuck in your throat. There he is, Joel Miller. Just standing and leaning against the doorway, brown eyes locked on yours.

“What’re you doin’ in here? Your dad’s lookin’ for ya out in the back,” Joel says across the kitchen.

“Couldn’t come get me himself so he sent you instead? What a good friend you are.” You roll your eyes, one eyebrow raising in question while you see him scoff under his breath.

“Don’t be a brat. He’s busy makin’ burgers. Jus’ asked if I could come find ya.”

“Well, you found me.” You lean into the counter and pick out another plump cherry.

“C’mon then. Get out there.” He nods his head towards the backyard and crosses his large arms over his broad chest.

“Can’t you see I’m busy?” You pop the cherry into your mouth and twirl the stem in between your fingers, keeping your eyes locked carefully on his.

He huffs out annoyed, pinching the bridge of his nose while he makes his way across the kitchen, stopping on the opposite side of the counter as he leans against it and keeps his arms tight across his chest. “Yeah, real busy over there. Those cherries must be real good if they’ve got you locked in the kitchen.” His eyes flick to the glass bowl as you plop another one out from the batch.

“Sooo good.” You take your tongue and lick up the side of the cherry, pushing it into your mouth as you throw the stem on the edge of the counter.

He watches you chew, gulping down saliva as he focuses in on your red glossy lips. He thinks you look so gorgeous in your little yellow sundress, thinks your lips might taste just like those cherries. Savory, sweet, delicious. A thought that’s crossed his mind more than once before.

He shouldn’t be in here alone with you, shouldn’t even stare while you lick your plush lips and devour the fresh cherries all seductively in front of him. He can picture you down on your knees, your tongue gliding over the tip of his throbbing cock, his fingers fisting the back of your hair while he fucks your pretty little mouth with his thick cock. He wants to hear those melodic moans out of your mouth, needs to get his mouth on your pretty pink pussy, would love to throw you on top of his bed sheets while he fucks you till he fills you with hot ropes of cum.

He’s a bad man for thinking of his best friend’s daughter like that, but he can’t help wanting something he can’t technically have. You’re off limits to him and so much younger, but he doesn’t give a shit.

He sees the way you’ve been teasing him. Walking around in those short skirts that barely cover your curvy ass and brushing your fingertips against his arms with every chance you get. He’s not a stupid man, he knows what you’re doing. But he won’t dare try to stop you. He likes the tease, loves the thought of you pining over him, and maybe one day he’ll finally teach you a lesson of what happens to naughty girls that just don’t know when to quit.

“Stop that,” he demands, watching you lick your lips slowly while you swallow a cherry.

“Stop what?” you ask innocently.

“Stop teasin’ me.” His eyes are narrowed, jaw clenched as his eyes follow your tongue licking across the fresh fruit.

“Make me,” you smirk. You swallow the cherry whole and tap your manicured fingernails against the counter top, challenging him to make a move.

He clenches his fingers into a tight fist, sliding his tongue against the inside of his cheek, his eyes darkening as his nostrils flare in anger. He’s mad, furious that you’re making him this frazzled. He can’t ignore the hardening cock that stiffens against the denim of his jeans. All because you’re a fucking tease.

You pop your hip out and play with the cherry stem in between your fingers, batting your eyelashes flirtatiously at the handsome man that can barely control himself around you. “You know, they say if you can tie a knot with your tongue with a cherry stem that means you’re a good kisser,” you smirk.

“Is that right, darlin’?” he asks all intrigued, leaning forward as his dark eyes hone in on you.

“Mhm. Read a thing or two about it,” you giggle.

“Show me.” His voice comes out deep, gravelly as he leans against the counter and crosses his arms. It doesn’t come out as a response but a demand loud and clear.

You smirk his way and nod. You pop the cherry stem in your mouth and get to work. Your tongue twists and turns, working hard to get just the right angle with the stem. Joel watches you eagerly, his eyes blowing wide while his nostrils flare aggressively. You know he’s hard behind his jeans, and you’re dying to see just how massive he is.

When you finally feel the tiny knot in the stem, you open your mouth and reach in, grabbing the wet end with your fingertips. You hold it up and sure enough you did it. Right in the middle it’s tied in a tight knot. You knew you could do it.

Joel smirks your way, smoldering eyes glazed in a trance as he flicks them up and down your body seductively. Oh, he’s impressed and turned on. Look at the mess you’ve made.

“Color me impressed, sweetheart. That’s a neat talent you got there. What else can you do with that tongue?” he asks with a devilish grin curling against his big lips.

“Why don’t you come find out?” you taunt him.

He’s on you in less than a minute, large hands holding your hips against the counter while his hard cock digs into your thigh. You’re breathless, breathing in the scent of his mahogany cologne and his fresh soap smell while his dark eyes bleed into yours.

“Careful with that pretty mouth, darlin’. I don’t think you realize what you’re gettin’ yourself into,” he warns, blown eyes making slick build in your lacy panties.

“No? I think I do,” you smirk.

“Shouldn’t be playin’ games with your dad’s best friend, sweetheart. Could get ya into trouble,” he tsks, clicking his tongue will his thick fingers dig into the material of your skimpy dress.

“So get me into trouble, Mr. Miller,” you whisper, enticing him to make a move as your hand drags down to where his hard cock is skimming across your thigh.

He’s on you then, his warm mouth pressing firmly against yours as his hands slowly slide your dress up. The kiss is messy, hot, uncontrolled as one of his hands fist the back of your curls. You part your mouth open and invite him in, letting him slot his tongue inside your panting mouth.

Your fingers slide through his tousled curls, pulling a low groan from his throat while his tongue licks feverishly inside your mouth. You could drown in his coffee taste, get lost in his lush locks with his teeth nipping at your skin. This was better than you imagined, better than your wildest dreams.

He slides his calloused thumb against your drenched lace, finding your buzzing clit as he draws meticulous circles over and over. You moan into his mouth, panting his name as his fingers set your core on fire.

“Yeah? You like that, little tease?” he chuckles darkly, nipping against your bottom lip as another moan leaves your lips.

“Yes, fuck yes,” you say through clenched teeth.

“Mmm. Dirty girl wants her daddy’s best friend to finger fuck her, is that right?” he teases, sliding his fingers inside your lace and gliding through your damp folds, his fingers curling up into your dripping hole.

You part your lips and moan, twisting your fingers tightly through his messy curls. “Fuck, Joel. Please, please. Want you to… ohhh,” you moan, melting into a puddle as his thick fingers hit that spongy spot that you can never reach yourself.

“That’s what I thought,” he chuckles.

His mouth finds neck, sucking against your collarbone as his free hand squeezes one of your perky breasts. He elicits another moan from you, the wet noises of his fingers fucking into you floating around the room, the obscene sounds making him groan against the shell of your ear.

Before you know what happens he releases his fingers from your core and grabs your hips firmly, hoisting you up on the edge of the counter while he pulls the ruined lace down your legs and drops them to the tiled floor. You let out a squeak, watching the way he spreads your legs and pulls you to the edge, hungry eyes eating you alive.

“Gonna need you to be quiet, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?” he asks through gritted teeth, like he’s holding himself back from dragging you to his mouth.

“Mhm,” you hum, out of breath while more slick pools in between your thighs. “Joel, please,” you beg.

“Ain’t gotta beg, baby girl. Gonna take good care of this pretty pussy,” he purrs.

He wastes no time as he licks a thick stripe up your folds, lathering you in the wetness of his warm tongue. You throw your head back and grip the edge of the counter while he settles your legs over his shoulders.

He places his meaty hands around the backs of your thighs and starts to make out with your pussy. His tongue divides your folds, licking up inside your drenched hole and makes his way up to your puffy clit. He draws meticulous circles over your aching bundle of nerves, eliciting low moans that fall off the tip of your tongue.

You tangle your hands through his smooth locks, hear him grunt while he pulls your buzzing mound into his warm mouth. “Oh my God, Joel,” you whine.

“Yeah? Like the sound of you moaning my name, sweetheart. Say it again,” he demands as he plunges two thick fingers into your gushing core, watching slick slide down his hand while he’s knuckles deep in you.

You moan it again and again and again, watching his blown out eyes stare up at you menacingly, mouth feasting on your drool coated pussy. He finger fucks you swiftly, curling his fingers to hit that spongy spot over and over again, his deft tongue gliding against your throbbing clit until you’re right on the edge.

Your walls clench against his fingers, mouth chanting his name dreamily while he gets you right where you need to be.

“Come for me, sweetheart. Drench these fingers with that sweet, sticky cum. Be a good girl now,” he purrs, licking against your warm core.

He pulls your bundle of nerves into his mouth and sucks hard, rutting his thick fingers against the sweetest spongy spots that takes you to the finish line. You throw your head back and moan his name, feeling the white hot heat slide down the back of your spine.

“Attagirl. Look at you spill, goddamn” he growls, licking your spilling slick between your thighs and working his fingers in and out of your core, making sure to get every single drop of cum from your center.

He talks you through it, licking you clean as he works you through your intense orgasm, massaging your thighs until your breathing is back to normal. He slides your panties back up your thighs, covering your ruined pussy while he pulls your skirt back over your thighs.

He stands up between your legs and circles your hips with his meaty hands, whispering sweet incantations in the shell of your ear. “Happy birthday, sweetheart. Hope you liked your present.”

He gives you a quick kiss to your lips, letting you taste your own release on the tip of your tongue along with the delicious taste of him.

You wrap your arms around his neck loosely, not yet wanting him to leave the room without you tucked into his side. “Joel,” you murmur through a warm daze.

“Hmm?” He knits his eyebrows into a tight line and looks at you with clouded brown eyes.

“Can we do that again?” you ask with big sappy eyes full of hope.

He huffs out, groaning through his teeth as his wide eyes stay locked on yours. “You want to do that again?” he asks, licking his tongue along the bottom of his teeth.

“Mhm,” you nod, smiling over at him. “Next time I want you to fuck me, and I want to suck your cock.”

He chokes on his own saliva and chuckles out, shaking his head as he tightens his grip on your hips. “Jesus Christ. You’re gonna be a handful, ain’t ya?”

“You know I am.” You giggle and push your fingers through his messy curls, adjusting it so it doesn’t look like he just went down on you.

He shakes his head and sighs, helping you off the spotless counter top. His fingertips hover over your back, hands pressing against your sweating skin while his lips hang dangerously close to your mouth. “You messy girl. What am I gonna do with ya, huh?” he smiles, tracing his thumb over your lower lip.

“Guess you just have to keep me,” you shrug, smiling blissfully at the man of your dreams.

“Maybe I will, sweetheart. Maybe I will.”

He curls a strand of hair behind your ear and trails his lips against your cheek, mouth closing in on yours. Your breath hitches and body comes alive just waiting for his lips to be back on yours. Suddenly, the back door is swinging up and heavy footsteps are coming through the kitchen entryway.

You and Joel jump apart, your heart in your throat and adrenaline coursing through your blood. “There you two are. Was wondering where you were,” your dad shouts, his loud voice killing the heat of the moment.

“Sorry, bud. Your daughter here was just showin’ me how good these cherries were,” Joel says calmly. He grabs a cherry from the bowl and pops it in his mouth, winking your way before he exits the kitchen with your dad.

You stand there breathlessly, not believing what just happened. Joel just kissed you, finger fucked you, and ate you out in the middle of the kitchen where anyone could’ve walked in and saw. You were walking on thin ice, but you’d happily do it all over again.

You readjust your dress and smooth down your messy locks, making sure your lipstick isn’t all smudged down your chin. Once you make sure you look like you hadn’t just been fucked, you make your way outside into the backyard.

Your friends crowd around the inground pool while your folks and neighbors sit around on some lounge chairs, sipping on lemonade and eating hamburgers off plastic plates. You find an empty chair next to your friend, Nikki, and act as if you were completely normal. Nothing was normal about today, though. Not after what just happened in the kitchen with Joel Miller. The hottest neighbor that had walked into your dad’s life three years ago. Guess he always had a thing for you secretly, you just didn’t know it till this year.

Your eyes flick across the lawn and you find Joel staring at you, nursing a beer down with his lips around the flute of the bottle. His honey brown eyes find yours, and you gasp when you see a smudge of red lipstick smeared across the collar of his blue flannel. You giggle at the sight of it, snickering to yourself as you join in on a conversation about your weekend plans.

Guess you left your mark on him after all.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller #joel miller smut #dbf!joel #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel x female reader #joel miller pedro pascal #dbf! joel miller #dbf joel miller

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kadwrites · 10 months

Text

something old, something new | T.S

previous part | next part

or check out the series masterlist

summary ; how long can you keep that secret?

warnings ; arranged marriage!trope, SLOW burn, soft!tommy , fem!reader, idk what im doing,

a/n ; i would love to know what you guys think of this part<3 thank you guys for all the support i really really appreciate it <33

"ya should've stabbed 'im when ya had the chance to." madeline mumbles, putting rose in the crib that was dragged next to the dining table

"what the hell has gotten into 'im?...." fiona looks at celest and celest shrugs , looking back at you

"god i feel like i'm going to explode" you take a gulp of the wine in your glass "i can't lie to tommy"

"then don't, just tell him" celest swirls the wine in her glass

"i 'ave a feeling tommy might just.." fiona runs her thumb across her neck, clicking her tongue

"i mean he's not that violent," you add , your finger moving across the rim of the glass "he's sweet...sometimes.... i think"

"is she ... drunk?" madeline grabs the wine bottle, pouring some in the glass in her hand

"i'm sure he doesn't just go around killing people" you look at the three women around you, "what do ya think jeremy wants to do?"

"i mean he said he wants ya back , didn't he?" celest sips her wine

"i mean yeah , technically i guess..."

"not technically" madeline is points at you "he said he wouldn't let ya marry tommy"

"it's just so odd" your hand rubs at the back of your neck "this is so out of the blue, we ended years ago. it's not like we were in contact too or anything"

"ya attract crazy men" fiona says with a raised brow

"i don't need this." you cover your face with your hand, before taking another gulp from your glass

"come on," celest gets up, taking the wine glass out of your hand "ya need sleep."

you have your arms raised on each side. , wearing a thin white robe. standing with your back straight and head held high, the seamstress starts measuring from the tip of your fingers to your shoulders.

"how is he treating ya?"

"hm?" you snap out of whatever trance you were in, eyes glancing in her direction

"thomas shelby, how is he treating ya?"

"yes , yes he is." you speak almost too quickly "why wouldn't he?" you try to not move,

she looks at you through her spectacles, raising a brow

you raise a brow too "i thought ya knew his family very well?"

"i do, that's why i'm asking" she says with a sigh , moving to the other side to get the measurements and your eyes follow her

the room is spacious, with every kind of fabric and thread you could possibly think of. it's quiet, the light shining in through the windows. the fabric and the design of your wedding dress on a paper on the table. a sketch of it, and it looked perfect.

"he's treating me well" you repeat

"do ya know about grace?"

your eyes drift away, you lick your lips nervously. you never had this conversation with anyone, it was a topic everyone tiptoed away from. except for her, apparently

"i know of 'er, yes."

"he loved that girl, he did." she nodded, rolling the measuring tape, getting your bust measurements.

"yeah, i've heard." you cleared your throat

"ya should've seen how he looked at 'er" she chuckled, "but , the way he looks at you ..." she looks at you again, before moving to make another measurement.

your head snaps this time, looking at her before she reprimands you to stay still "me?"

"mhm."

"i don't think so" you murmur then chuckle

"i wouldn't be so sure" she said with a knowing look , she rolls the measuring tape around your waist "i've known 'im since he was a boy."

"i mean, i'm sure ya do." you smile at her politely "but i do doubt that."

"ya can doubt it all ya like, it won't make it less true" she mumbles ,

a soft knock at the door catches your attention. she frowns, pulling her spectacles down and walking to the door, she opens it slightly

"morning mrs baker."

tommy's voice makes your eyes widen slightly, and your heart flutter.

"tommy." she says with a laugh "ya 'ave no business here, boy."

"my bride is here" he nods at you "so , i do actually 'ave business here"

she opens the door, letting him in. the smile and look on her face is stern, but maternal.

"the girl tells you're treating her well" she mumbles, going back to standing at your side

"she did?" he asks with a small smile before standing against a wall, his back pressed against it with his hands in his pockets, his gaze stuck on you.

she nods, putting her spectacles back on as she writes down the measurements on a piece of paper

"ya were trying to turn 'er on me, sylvia?" he speaks again

she shoots him a glare before looking back at you "ya see what you're marrying?"

you chuckle, tying the robe tighter around you. "yeah, i see it."

sylvia walks out of the room, to the front of the store for a customer that came in, leaving you and tommy in the back.

"why didn't ya bring your mother with ya?" he asks you, getting off the wall but not taking one step further.

"she can be...... overly enthusiastic at times. so i didn't tell 'er i was coming here" you say with a chuckle, turning to look at him

"that's smart" he hums , looking you over.

"she will lose 'er mind but i think it'll be worth it , i think."

he hums again, this time walking to stand in front of you.

"didn't ya 'ave a meeting today? i'm surprised ya even had the time to come here" you tilt your head as you speak

"want to get rid of me, do ya?"

"of course i don't."

"so ya want me around?" he leans closer, and you feel your breath stop. his voice is soft and low, his eyes glance at your lips before going back to your eyes

"i...." you stutter , your eyes scan his face "i do" you speak softly

"i do too."

"yeah?" you whisper back.

the air is so heavy, you feel his breath fan over your lips. your noses brush against each other.

"are ya scared of me?"

"no" you shake your head softly

he leans in closer and his lips press against yours, your eyes flutter shut and you feel as if time stopped moving, the floor under you disappeared.

after a few moments, he pulls back but not far back , his nose brushes against your cheek and his lips press against your ear

"what are ya hiding from me?"

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#kadwrites #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfiction #thomas shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders imagine

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elioslover · 7 months

Text

Ray of Sunshine - Grumpy!Harry x Reader.

Premise: Harry has a tendency to be moody, but what happens when he meets his match? this one's especially for @harrysonlylover 💞

Other Writing

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: She/her pronouns. 3rd person.

⛅️

Harry’s car skids recklessly into the almost-full parking lot, dismissing the concept of carefulness in favour of confronting the driver behind the wheel of a sunshine-yellow ‘60s VW beetle, who had pulled into the lot moments before- which should have never happened because it had been behind him, to begin with.

As if his mood hadn’t been less than pleasant for the past month, what really set him over the edge was the lack of apology from the said sunshine yellow driver, who only honked his way and proceeded to turn into the parking lot as they seemed to have always intended.

With agitation, Harry neatly swerves into the nearest parking space, barely managing to stay in the lines as he reaches over and snatches his work satchel from the passenger seat, slinging it over his shoulder as he slides from the seat and exits his vehicle.

In hot pursuit, his long legs help him catch up to the sunshine car just in time for the driver to exit, her back turned to him, leaning in through the open door to collect her items.

By the time she turns around and lazily swings the door shut Harry is peering over her, wearing a black hoodie, brows furrowed, his body tense.

She recognises him in an instant- it’s hard not to remember the face of a man who is scowling so sinfully as he hit the hooter for an unnecessary amount of time- all because he couldn't be bothered to indicate.

“Did you not see my blinker?” He grumbles.

“Clearly not.” She torts, her face still and expressionless.

“You’re a moron. It was on.” Each word is more annunciated than the last.

“It wasn’t.” She shrugs, slinging the straps of her bag over her shoulder.

“You clearly need glasses.” Harry huffs in disbelief.

“Maybe if you weren’t blasting your music so loud you would have heard that it wasn’t on.”

Harry feels a wave of shame wash over him at the idea of her seeing him getting a little too into his playlist, in turn, his chest simmers with defensiveness and deflection,

“Your driving fucking sucks…” He says, getting no response only encourages him to rant further, “And your car looks like it’s hanging on by its last thread, no wonder you’re a bad driver.” He gestures to her car with a look of distaste, “It’s a piece of junk.”

She adores her car, it is not only special but holds the heart of many fond times, adventures, people, and sometimes just conversation. The car sure has been through the wringer- in age alone- but she can hardly afford another, and she certainly doesn't want one.

So, she tries not to find offence in this grumpy strangers declaration of her ‘piece of junk’ and does her best to take a deep breath before responding in concession- though her agitation has morphed into sarcasm and it seeps through your sentences,

“Okay, sorry Mister Mercedes. Guess I’ll be more careful next time.”

Harry didn't know what he wanted her to say, but it certainly wasn’t anything along those lines. So with an eye roll and the reminder that he’s close to being late for work, Harry starts to walk away and points out matter-of-factly,

“Yeah fuckin right, you’re an accident waiting to happen.”

“Asshole.”

“I heard that.”

He turns on his heels to see her as calm as ever, an amused sparkle in her eyes, a smirk playing at her lips,

“What ya gonna do? Chew me out some more?”

Harry stared seethingly at the rude and reckless driver who couldn't care less about his mood, her focus was on gathering all the necessary items for whatever task she so desperately had to complete that she was willing to almost kill him.

He meanly mutters, “Have a fantastic day," before walking off for good, dreading work and in a worse mood than ever.

⛅️

Harry has an hour for lunch, grateful for the assortment of cafes and restaurants scattered within the city square, along with plenty of boutiques, art deco, and antiques to name a few.

Most days, he is likely to grab a sandwich or coffee- or both- from the restaurant directly across from his office block, but that would be the third time this week and Harry can’t fathom facing any of the staff in fear of becoming a ‘regular.’

He meanders around the centre and stakes out the array of food options displayed in each glass window.

Just when he thinks he may settle on some early afternoon sushi, Harry spots a bright object from the corner of his vision, his head snapping with such haste he must have strained a muscle.

Parked directly in front of a shoe boutique is his notorious enemy; the sunshine car. And leaning back against a pillar just outside of the store is the bad driver from behind the wheel. She is halfway through smoking a cigarette, her other hand occupied by scrolling through her phone.

As if his scowl was so strong that it was sent straight to her, causing her to sense his presence, she looked up from her phone and smiled mischievously at the realization of her new enemy's arrival.

She tucks her phone into the pocket of her black slacks, taking a puff of her ciggie, a cloud of smoke mixing in with her greeting,

“Ah, Mister Mercedes.”

Harry nears but notices his frustration thicken with each step into her space. He crosses his arms across his chest,

“I recognised your car.”

“Oh, that old piece of junk?” She asks with nonchalance.

“Yes.”

“Bothered you so much that you decided to come over here?” Her pout is melting with pure mischief.

“I’m sorry, okay.” Harry concedes, but it doesn't come off as anything but frustrated so his tone softens in volume and intention, “It was a rough day.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” His brows furrow.

“Yeah, okay.”

“Fucking insufferable.” He mutters.

His frustration slips over like that of water on a duck, her mood has been calm all day, and his attitude wasn’t likely to spoil it- right? With another puff, she ponders aloud,

“Is there anything else I can help you with?”

There is a moment where Harry almost ponders the purity of his intentions, but dismisses it and chooses to interrogate her- he is far too invested in finding out more about his enemy,

“Do you work here?”

“Obviously.” She shrugs with the softest of scoffs.

“Hope you’re a better employee than a driver.”

Now he’s starting to get under her skin. this is her hour for lunch, why can’t it be spent in peace? She does her damndest to maintain a cool demeanour as she asks again,

“Why are you still here?”

“To apologize, Jesus.” Harry doesn't mean to snap, but neither of them is surprised when he does. His juxtaposition of words and tone render his sorry useless- they both know it.

He tries to reason with her, explaining his frustration, “And all you said was okay.”

She peers over at him incredulously, repeatedly intrigued by the attitude of this man who has gone out of his way to make an enemy out of her,

“What do you want me to say,” her tone facetious and fiery, “I forgive you, we all have bad days, sometimes we take it out on strangers to avoid hurting those close to us, you’re probably actually a great guy?”

“I- yes.”

“Well now that I’ve said it, you can go on your way.”

Harry feels stunned like she just let him walk out into the snow knowing that there was soon to be a blizzard, he can’t reason with her- nor does he care to at this point,

“Jesus. I take back my apology.” He grumbles, hands raised in defeat, his head shaking as he scoffs sourly, “Such a mature little thing, huh?”

She ignores everything but the last sentence, slowly enjoying the opportunities he’s giving her to indulge in going out of her way to increase his already extreme grumpiness.

Once more, Harry curses out under his breath and with zero intent to say another word, begins to walk away from her.

Pulling the phone from her pocket, ready to continue her prior activities, she chuckles and calls over his shoulder,

“Bye, Mister Mercedes.”

⛅️

It has likely been less than a week since their last interaction and Harry’s enemy has decided to treat herself to a proper lunch- sitting down at an actual table in an actual restaurant for a change.

However, she underestimated her fitness levels and loosely accounted for a good portion of the time her lunch break consisted of. By the time she arrived and got back to her own store, there would be less than twenty minutes left to sit at a table.

Takeout would have to do, and once she has placed her order, she waits off to the side of the main counter, waiting to both pay and be gifted with grub.

The food comes quicker than predicted and with excitement she thinks can't be topped, she reaches for her wallet, but the hostess stops her in her tracks and gestures to one of the tables scattered throughout the eatery and informs her,

“The man at table four already paid for your order.”

It’s her sworn enemy, packing up the contents of his belongings before taking a final sip of his nearly-empty Americano. Harry doesn’t acknowledge her.

“What’s with this guy?” She ponders aloud before making the swift and frustrated decision to go over to his table.

He is already standing up to leave, still not looking her way, and with a bough of confusion, she finally speaks up,

“What’s this about?”

“Strange way of saying thank you, Sunshine.”

Harry frowns and she doesn't enjoy the way it makes her feel, giddy and begging for more opportunities to bother him,

“Thank you.”

“Whatever. You’re still a pest.” He grumbles, almost bumping his shoulder into her own as he slips past and hastily exits the restaurant.

⛅️

Harry walks into her store with a better attitude than he has in a long time. Things were starting to look up, but one little thing was still bothering him, and she was staring right at him with a scowl that gave him a run for his money.

Anyhow, he’s here for a reason; an attempt to smooth over the rocky start that was more than likely his fault. And he hopes she’ll take his apology this time.

Harry approaches, and with each step, he gets a better view of her distinct frown, lips turned down, eyes quickly turning to loathsome slits. She is no longer leaning across the front counter with laxation, her body stiffening to attention, her hand pressed firmly to her hip.

She couldn’t fathom anything could have worsened her week, and here he was, presumably planning on sucking away whatever remained of her soul for his own sick gain. With a chest simmering with chaos, she asks with incredulity,

“Seriously?”

Harry blinks back, a little awestruck, ignoring the pang of disappointment that greets his heart when she seems to confirm her distaste for his presence, he embraces his mildly peppy mood and remarks playfully,

“Well hello there, Sunshine.”

“This is not the time.” She snaps.

“Aw, is Miss Ray-of-Sunlight in a mood today?” He coos.

“Mmph.”

She huffs, hardly meeting his eyes, and Harry quite likes how well she emulates his usually grumpy demeanour, he wonders how similar they might be, decides to find out,

“What happened?” He meets her at the counter, lazily resting his body against the counter courtesy of the elbow he balances on. He leans a tad nearer, a tantalizing smile playing at his lips as he teases,

“Did you almost crash into someone with your junkyard on wheels?”

“I’d rather drive this than parade about like an absolute dick in an overpriced German car.” Her tone drips with what Harry feels is both disappointment and disgust.

He feels frozen under her words like his Sunshine had just revealed herself to be Medusa, a sly Succubus.

Now what does he do? His confidence sits on the floor with his converse, his sentences have turned to slosh in his skull and she is staring at him with such distaste that Harry certainly won’t be saying a word.

Stunned to silence, he leans away from her, settling a safe space between their bodies as his features morph from friendly to confused. This only seems to increase her frustration and she fiery snaps,

“Why won't you stop fucking pestering me?”

Harry subconsciously steps back, straightening up and stacking his defensiveness around his skin like a shield. He has no power to prevent a petty eye roll,

“Oh, please. This is no treat for me either, Sunshine.”

“Are you kidding?” She gets ready to leave him standing alone in the middle of her own store.

Harry panics and blurts, “Hear me out!” It comes off more desperate than he would have liked. But she has stopped and addresses him with crossed arms, waiting for his next words. Harry is in autopilot mode, more nonsense spilling from his lips, “I- want to make it up to you?”

“Why, so you can clear your conscience?” She scoffs with sass.

“Sure, whatever you say, smart mouth.” Harry has regressed and reflects her unpleasant temperament.

“Go away.”

Their gazes are glued by the calamity of their conversation, tied together with frustration that feels impossible to unwind.

Harry just wants to tell her why he’s here in the first place, but what’s the point? His presence is evidently worsening her day.

And though the soft curiosity in him wants to know why she seems so down, Harry’s focus is returning to the ruin of his afternoon. So, in true fashion, he flails his arms in disappointed defeat and turns his back on her with a wonderful version of goodbye,

“Fine. Fuck it. Have a miserable one, Sunshine.”

“Likewise, dickhead.” She dismisses, grateful his mood is now as miserable as her own.

⛅️

When Harry finally exits the glass entrance to the bottom floor, relief rushing over him now that work is over, he’s hardly paying any attention to anything or anyone, already scanning his phone for notifications. But then he sees his cloudy sunshine leaning against a wall, arms crossed, no car in sight.

He ponders pretending to not have noticed- walked away and gone about his eve. That would never happen though, he wants- needs to see her again- his stomach stays unsettled the deeper their discourse divulged.

He heads over to her with unnecessary haste, scolding himself as he comes to a halt in front of her. She has been aware of him from the minute he exited the building, already prepared for his arrival.

His body waits expectantly as she eyes him up and down, a cheeky glint in her eyes and when Harry understands that she is in no rush to speak up, his undying impatience rears its head,

“What do you want?”

“For you to stop being so grumpy.” She shrugs.

“Rich coming from you.” He mutters, but when she attempts to turn her back on him as they had done so many times before, more words rush out, “Okay, okay. What’s up?”

“I’ve decided to hear you out.”

“Gee, how kind of you.”

“I cannot imagine how anyone deals with you on a daily basis.”

Harry doesn’t take it as an insult, he is fueled forward by the fact that she might be willing to listen,

“I’m actually very likeable.”

“Do you want me to hear you out or not?”

He thinks for a moment, leaving her to ponder what in her right mind caused her to take a walk to see him in the first place.

But, he wants to do this as… right as their attitudes might approve of, so he bravely wraps his palm atop her own, gently gesturing for her to follow and she allows him to drag her along. He encourages,

“C’mon.”

“What?” She asks but proceeds to let him guide her.

“It’s almost six, let’s go eat.” He informs, one step ahead of her as they take the short trip to his regular restaurant

“That is the last thing I want to do with you.” She grumbles.

“I’ll pay.” He soothes.

“Fine.”

Harry keeps her hand cradled in his own, even as they enter the restaurant and he asks the waiter for a table for two. In fact, he only lets go to pull out a chair for her.

He asks what drink she prefers and if she’d be open to splitting a plate of fries with him.

But she has been eyeing him with suspicion, and once it’s clear that this won’t waver until she confronts it, the waiter leaves and allows her to question,

“Why are you being nicer than usual?”

“Can you stop being snarky for even a second?” He nearly snaps.

“Ah, Mister Mercedes is back.” She nods as if it were what she had expected all along.

“No,- Jesus fuck.” Harry feels desperate again, scooching his chair forward, his arms folded across the table, leaning in to ensure her unwavering attention,

“I- almost got into another accident the day we met.” He sighs out with shame, ready to be met with warranted ridicule. Her expression has already turned to one of bemusement. But he’s not done yet,

“Turns out my left blinker bulb burned out... so...”

She tilts back and finally relaxes into her chair, a gleeful grin spreading to her sparkling eyes,

“Sweet vindication.”

“Brat.”

“Dick.”

Harry has little confidence to spare, now that his confession is out in the open, he is in the dark.

Her demeanour has slightly diverted swells of amusement and satisfaction dancing along the tabletop.

“Just wanted to try and make it up to you.” He shrugs earnestly, unfortunately having to rely on her newfound information to dictate her next reaction.

“Make it up to me?”

He can’t convince himself to meet her eyes, his lowering to study the rings donning his fingers, fearful of humiliation, but not enough to waste the opportunity sitting across from him, looking overjoyed with sweet satisfaction, and far too endearing for him to resist,

“Mm. I didn’t want you to think I was just a grump but…” Her face seems to soften and he feels it safe to continue, “Been tryna ask you out on a date. since.”

“A date?”

“Yeah, a date.”

“Are you crazy?” Her features return to one of confusion, bewildered at his seemingly sudden turnaround, “I don’t like you.”

“Well, I like you.”

“Forgive me for finding that hard to believe.”

It’s true- that he likes you, and that it’s hard to believe. He likes the surprise shifting his statement.

“I do.” He nods as if it’s been obvious from the start, “And your attitude, and your silly yellow car.” He admits with bashful fondness, “Guess I hoped we could start over?”

“Sunshine.” She says.

“Hm?”

He ponders aloud and it’s her turn to lean forward, stretching her arms across the table. Her gaze has returned to one of sternness,

“My car. Her name is Sunshine.” She allows Harry a moment to soak up the coincidental information. “She is a piece of junk, but I love her, so shut up about my baby.”

Harry’s head tilts back when a bough of laughter suddenly leaves his lips- amused and even more attracted than he thought possible, he nods along in agreement and chuckles, “Fair enough.”

There is an elongated pause- at least Harry perceives it to be- as she thinks over the oddly pleasurable past few weeks of finding herself in the presence of a grumpy but playful man.

So, she gives him one last good look over before deciding to openly give in,

“You have been a consistent pain in my ass.” He pouts cutely, and she goes on, “Guess we’ll have to find out if there’s more to you.”

He smiles at that, his head and heart finally settling at the promise of better nights of sleep to follow. Moreso, he’d like to find out more about this so-called Sunshine who seems to simultaneously rile him up and calm him down with ease,

“‘M name’s Harry, by the way.” He extends a hand.

“Y/n.” Her palm meets his eagerly.

Here we go children, this one was really fun to write, I hope it meets your expectations! - Em. xo 💞 this one's especially for @harrysonlylover 💞

#harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #elioslover #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles x y/n #harry x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles blurb #harry styles #harry styles grumpy #harry styles concept #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles au

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its-time-to-write · 1 year

Text

mine of you with me

Been busy this week bc my ex is getting married and I have to go to the wedding. His fiancée (wife?) asked me to be there and I love her, so I said yes, but I regret it big time. Requests are still open! I’m working on the requests in my inbox, but wrote this to get it out of my system. It goes with/happens before “three times ‘cause I’ve waited my whole life.” Anyway. Here ya go. mine of you with me

You love going to Jamie’s games. You love watching him play his heart out on the pitch. It’s fun, being in the stands and screaming for Richmond. You wear his jersey (his actual jersey, one that he owns) and deck yourself out in Richmond gear. You think your favorite part, however, is sneaking around.

You’re dating Jamie Tartt, star footballer, and no one knows.

Today is a game against Crystal Palace. Jamie had left before you with a single “Bye babe,” and a kiss.

After he leaves, you debate stealing one of his orange kits (they’re the most comfortable) but decide against it. Too obvious to be in a sea of red and blue. You settle for a regular “Bantr” shirt and head out the door to meet Keeley.

Keeley and Rebecca were aware that you were with Jamie. Keeley, because Jamie swore you’d be best friends. Rebecca, because there was a ticket mixup and Keeley was busy so she sent Rebecca to the ticket booth to sort things out with “Jamie’s special guest,” which led Rebecca to be very surprised when she saw you instead of one of his family members.

It made things easier, really, to show up on Nelson Road under the guise of seeing Rebecca and/or Keeley. Time passed and it became less of a guise. You really enjoyed their company, and having someone to talk to about Jamie.

But here you are, back in the present, with Rebecca trying to convince you to sit in the box while Keeley threads blue, red, and gold through your hair.

You just laugh and hug them goodbye, heading your separate ways. Them, up; you, down.

You settle into your seat right up to the pitch, and wait for the game to begin. Jamie’s picked a seat that’s right where the teams line up, so you’ll get a good view of him before it starts.

Shortly after, the teams begin to walk out onto the pitch. You look for Jamie and catch his eye.

I like your hair, he mouths, pointing slightly to his own.

Thanks, you reply with a small grin.

Jamie gives you a look that says I’m going to be pulling it later so you return with one that means I was counting on it.

Is it bad that you two understand each others expressions that well?

No time to dwell on that, because the game’s beginning.

—

Richmond’s done alright, they haven’t lost necessarily, but they did tie. You can feel the tension through the building as you weave your way through players and staff, carrying a stack of papers from Higgins to Rebecca. You’re almost to the stairs leading up to her office when someone crashes into you, sending papers flying.

“I’m so sorry!” you say, “that is totally my fault, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“No it isn’t,” a voice replies indignantly. “He was walking backwards!”

Jamie mumbles, “Shut up, Isaac,” while bending down to help you shuffle your papers together.

“Sorry about that,” he says softly. “Weren’t looking where I was goin’. I’m Jamie, by the way.”

He holds out his hand and you shake it, mentally commending his presence-of-mind to act like a stranger. “Nice to meet you, Jamie,” you reply. “I’m a friend of Rebecca’s.”

“He knows,” Colin pipes up, followed by an “Oi,” because Isaac smacked him.

“I’ve uh, got to go,” you say. “See you around.”

“See ya,” the lads chorus, Jamie watching you and Colin and Isaac watching Jamie.

Jamie turns around to see them grinning at him.

“Oi, what,” he says, hands in the air.

Isaac states, “You like her.”

Colin interjects, “Don’t even try to deny it, boyo, we saw how you looked at her. You think she’s fit.”

Jamie is sure he played it cooler than that. Maybe they just know him too well.

He laughs it off all the way to the locker room, changes, showers, and waits for Dani to walk out the door. They leave in a group, him, Isaac, Dani, and Colin, and as they turn the corner past the boot room you appear with Rebecca.

“Ladies,” Dani grins. Dani has a bit of a crush on you.

You and Rebecca smile back.

“Oi,” says Isaac, “do you want to join us tonight at the club? Trying to forget our tie streak.”

You open your mouth to decline when Rebecca replies, “We’d love to. I’m assuming Keeley will be there as well?”

“Becca,” you hiss, “I can’t go the club tonight.”

“Whyever not?”

You blush slightly. “I was planning on spending the evening with my boyfriend.”

The boys share furtive looks amongst themselves and not-so-subtly poke Jamie.

Rebecca says, “I’m sure he’d be more than happy to join you at the club. It’s settled, we’ll be there,” with a smile to the lads.

It takes every ounce of your willpower not to look at Jamie and to walk away with dignity.

“Did you hear that, Jamie?” Isaac asks, “She’s got a boyfriend. Sorry, mate.”

Jamie shrugs and does his best to look disappointed. “Must be a lucky man,” he says. “Now can we please go? My hair’s a fuckin wreck.”

“Mine too,” Dani says with a sorrowful shake of his head. They boys laugh and head out the door.

—

You’re at the club, standing at the bar with Rebecca. Jamie is there too, with the Richmond boys. Trent and Beard are there too, but Ted has opted to stay home. He’s not big into the club scene. Jamie’s sitting and laughing with the boys, but his eyes keep flicking over to you. Isaac notices and thumps him on the chest.

“Oi. She’s got a boyfriend, remember?”

Jamie nods and tears his eyes away from you.

“Dani, mate, you need a drink?” Jamie doesn’t even wait for a response before he’s out of his seat and headed over to the bar. Headed over to you.

Colin rolls his eyes, Isaac shakes his head, and Dani shrugs. “I cannot say no to a free drink,” he says.

Meanwhile, Jamie leans against the bar, holds up two fingers, then turns to you while waiting for his drinks. “Boyfriend didn’t show up?”

You grin and look around the room. “He’s here somewhere. We came separately. Not really sure where he’s gone off to.”

Jamie smiles back. “Not much of a boyfriend if he leaves someone as fuckin’ pretty as you at the bar all by herself.”

You shrug. “I’m with Rebecca. And he’s ok, I guess. When I find him, I’m going to tell him I’m leaving in fifteen minutes, and ask if he wants to meet at his place or mine.”

Jamie’s eyes become hungry. “His place. Definitely his. In fact, I think I just saw him slip out the door. D’you mind taking Dani his drink? You can have mine.”

You nod, unable to speak. Just a glint in his eye, and he’s become almost feral. You swear his teeth are pointier and your mouth goes dry.

Nice hair. I’m going to be pulling it later.

He’s gone before you can say anything else, and you have to press your hands to your face to cool down your cheeks.

Rebecca has been graciously pretending as though she can’t hear while scrolling on her phone. She looks up only when you grab Jamie’s drink, down it in a single gulp, and then pick up Dani’s.

She raises an eyebrow. “I take it I’m on my own for the rest of the night?”

You shake your head. “Isn’t Keeley here?”

There’s a ghost of a smile on Rebecca’s face. “Pretty sure she’s trying to take Roy home, so she is here in body but not so much in mind.”

You make what you hope is a neutral face. “Bec, you could get a man.”

She laughs. “Let’s get Dani his drink, shall we? I believe you’re leaving in twelve minutes.”

You set Dani’s drink down in front of him as Isaac asks, “Where’s your boyfriend? I thought he was supposed to be here.”

You shrug for the second time that night. “He had to go. I think I’ll be leaving soon too.”

There’s a chorus of wolf-whistles and you blush, again.

“Where did Jamie go?” Sam asks. “Did you break his heart that badly when he was flirting with you?”

You shake your head. You can feel Rebecca, poised as ever, next to you. It’s taking all your composure to maintain a straight face.

“I don’t- I’m not sure. He said something about training and sleep and I think he had to go? And I didn’t break his heart. He’s not into me.”

“Oh please,” Jan Maas speaks up, “His eyes follow you whenever you come to see Ms. Welton.”

You’re positive your face has caught on fire. “He just- he must- I don’t know. I have a boyfriend… He’s really great, and- I mean- I’ll talk to Jamie.”

“I did not mean to make you uncomfortable,” Jan Maas shrugs. “It is just the facts.”

Sam puts his hand on your shoulder. “It is alright. We will take care of it. Jamie is the type of person who falls hard and fast, and sometimes he does not care if the other person is unavailable. He sees what he wants and just goes for it. It’s why he is such a good footballer.”

You smile. “Thanks, Sam. I should probably go.” You turn to Isaac and Colin. “Thanks for inviting me. I really did have a great time. And maybe next time you can actually meet my boyfriend.”

They wave, you poke Rebecca and glance at Sam, then head out, pretending you don’t see her panicked absolutely not face.

—

You text Jamie, I’m on my way, and he taps back with a heart.

Door’s unlocked he replies, and then you’re off.

He doesn’t live very far, so you’re at his house in no time at all. You can see a few dim lights on inside, so you walk up the steps and push the door open.

“Jamie?” you call, “I’m here!”

You hear his footsteps clamoring down the stairs and in a moment he’s on you, fingers threaded through your hair as you kiss. He’s pulling you close, impossibly close, then without warning he picks you up, bridal style. He’s still in his clothes from the club.

He kisses you all the way up the stairs, then places you on the edge of the bed.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he says, voice pitched low. “I fucking loved your hair.”

You shiver as he lifts your dress over your head and runs his knuckles along your sides. You note that the room is bathed in dim light, from candles Jamie has lit and placed around. There’s soft music playing somewhere and you’re honestly surprised he pulled this together in fifteen minutes. You look at him on his knees in front of you, one hand on your waist and the other on your thigh. You fumble with the buttons on his shirt then settle for lifting it over his head.

“God,” you say, “you’re beautiful.”

He smiles, eyes hungry again. He gently pushes you back down on the bed and climbs on top of you. “Pretty sure that’s my line, babe.”

—

You don’t really talk until you’re both laying under the sheets, hours later, arms wrapped around waists and shoulders and legs intertwined.

Jamie’s kissing a trail from your shoulder to your inner elbow when you whisper, “Babe.”

He hums softly. “Yeah?”

“Do you think- do you think you should tell the team about us?”

Jamie pulls back slightly so he can look into your eyes. “Where’s this coming from?”

You shrug as best you can between his arms. “I just think it would make things easier, you know? I mean, I still think sneaking around is sexy and all, but like- it’s just getting harder and harder around Nelson Road.”

Jamie kisses the tip of your nose. “Whatever you fucking want babe. I’d give you the keys to me house if you asked.”

You smile, then let yourself drift to sleep.

—

The next morning, Jamie makes his way to his locker and tapes up a new photo. He’s holding a girl in front of Big Ben, and they’re both laughing. It’s his favorite photo. Sam sneaks a look and then does a double take.

“Jamie,” he says, disbelief written on his face, “Is that Rebecca’s friend? When did you take that?”

There’s a clamor while the team crowds around Jamie’s locker, Jamie grinning smugly.

“She’s me girlfriend. Been dating for months now. Didn’t want her to be harassed by press and you lot, so we kept it a secret.”

“I fucking knew you liked her!” Isaac says. “Body language doesn’t fucking lie.”

Jamie shrugs. “Never said I didn’t.”

“What about her boyfriend?” Dani interjects. “Does he know?”

Jamie turns to look at him, trying to gauge if he’s serious or not. “Muchacho, I’m the boyfriend.”

“Ohhh,” Dani replies, “that makes much more sense!”

“Oi, you lot!” Roy shouts. “You can discuss Tartt’s love life after fucking training. Get on the fucking pitch!”

There’s a chorus of “Yes coach, sorry coach!”

Jamie takes one last look at your picture, grins, then follows the rest of the team out the door.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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bit-odd-innit · 11 months

Text

Fic: One Good Honest Kiss

“What do you mean you don’t remember?” Eddie, pancaked on Steve’s bedroom floor, scrunches his shoulders up to his ears in an approximate shrug. He’s drunk. They’re both drunk. “I think he was nice.” “You think?!” “I don’t know, dude.” Eddie’s hands drag over his face, through his hair, his arms and fingers unfurling vine-like above his head. His back arches into the stretch. Steve’s eyes flick to the flash of skin between the hem of Eddie’s shirt and the top of his belt. “I was nineteen, it was dark, and he was nice. What more do you want.” Steve should let it go. It’s nothing. It’s inconsequential. But also no it’s not. It’s fishhooked deep within his chest cavity, yanking him off the bed and floundering to sit at Eddie’s hip. His hand closes around Eddie’s knee. “Your first kiss is supposed to mean something.” Eddie snorts. “Says who?” “Says—I don’t know, society?” “When have I ever adhered to the weather-vaning whims of society?” “...Weather-vaning?” “Like, uhh, like fucking...the ever-shifting winds of change...” “Ohhh.” “Like. The wind. Guh. I don’t know. I’m a...metal...guy...on peoples roofs?” “Uh-huh?” “You’re mocking me.” “Yeah. But go on.” “I don’t know!” His voice bubbles with laughter. “I don’t know. People want things in a way? And I’m different, in a way. Stop laughing.” It’s easy to be buoyed by Eddie’s exuberance. It’s easy to lose the plot in the sparkling, seafoamy burst of his laughter. His forearms flop to fold over each other, ringed fingers gripping his opposite elbows. His tongue rests like a meek chewing gum bubble between the rows of his teeth, his grin self-effacing. His eyes are fixed, unmoving, on Steve’s face. As if he’s searching for something Steve is unwilling or unable to concede. “I don’t know, man,” Eddie groans. “I wanted to get it over with.” At once Steve is dragged back, bereft, to shore. “Honey,” he says and he shouldn’t, sees how Eddie’s body jerks as if electroshocked. “Yeah. Well.” Eddie is no longer looking at him. “What’re ya gonna do?”

“Do you want a do-over?”

Eddie’s eyebrows raise. “What?” “A do-over. Like.” There’s a tear in Eddie’s jeans in the center of his thigh. His thumbnail catches in the soft, spiderweb-like white thread, the calloused pad grazing Eddie’s skin. “Like you can get the Moment you always wanted.” “You don’t know what I want.” He pushes the words out of him, like he’s grappling down his body’s base impulses. “I’m asking what you want.” Eddie’s mouth falls open around a sigh. He blinks, slow. “How did you kiss those girls?” His voice is low but his legs slide out from under him. Steve’s hand travels, involuntary, to Eddie’s hip. “You’ve got a reputation. How did you kiss them?” Steve rolls to crush Eddie beneath his weight. One hand settles over the cross-section of Eddie’s wrists, the other buries itself in Eddie’s hair. “Do you want me to kiss you like I kissed those girls?” Eddie whines. “Oh. Honey.” Eddie’s arms lock around Steve’s neck. “Do you want me to kiss you like one of my girls?” Eddie’s ankle hooks around Steve’s thigh. “Do you want to be my girl?” “Oh God,” Eddie pants. “Please. Please. Kiss me first?” “Mm?” “Want to feel wanted,” Eddie exhales. “Want to feel wanted by you—” And he melts as Steve’s mouth crushes into Eddie’s, sinks into him like rain-drunk soil. Feels the scratch of carpet biting at the backs of his arms; tries to remember where the carpet touches Eddie; tries to put himself between the fabric and Eddie’s skin. Kisses slow, gentle, tender. Kisses likes he’s trying to erase everything bad that came before. Kisses like he’s trying to be the first. “Steve,” Eddie murmurs against his lips. “You’re my girl,” Steve replies, nonsensical, using every muscle in his body to steady Eddie’s trembling. He kisses the corners of his mouth and Eddie makes a sound that lodges itself in the chambers of Steve’s heart. “You’re my girl.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #my fanfic

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sanguineterrain · 3 months

Note

for the dc prompts you reblogged:

can i request jason todd x reader "someone likes being pinned down" + A flirting with B while sparring to throw them off their tracks

where reader is also a vigilante??

thank you so much 🩷

very sexy prompts thank u 😌

jason todd x gn!reader. r and robin!jay were friends, r doesn't know jason is alive/red hood but jason knows r is a vigilante. r's alias is 'nocturne' (if that's already in use oh well lmao). fighting/sparring, jason is mega in love with you as usual!!

all fics at @sanguinelibrary

****

"Still blindly following the Bat, huh?"

You land in a crouch on the rooftop, just like how Nightwing taught you. The Red Hood doesn't look at you, digging through two duffel bags. He doesn't even draw his gun, like you've seen him do with virtually every other vigilante in Gotham.

You wait, ready to spring into action. But Hood doesn't stop what he's doing. Slowly, you rise.

"What... do you mean?" you ask.

"I mean, why are you traipsing around Gotham as a bat-adjacent? Who are you s'posed to be anyway? Goth Bat? Alternative Scene Bat?"

"I'm Nocturne," you say, shoulders rising to your ears. Rude. You thought the chunky boots and star over your suit's eye mask were inspired.

Red Hood lifts a hand. "Don't get me wrong, I dig the threads. I'm just surprised B didn't have an aneurysm over the sequins. Then again, Discowing did do it first..."

Your first two meetings with the infamous Red Hood have been similar in that he's never very concerned about you stopping him (ouch), but he also isn't callous or cruel with you like he is with the other vigilantes.

Case in point: the last person who cornered Hood on a roof was Red Robin. Hood shot him in the shoulder before he could land.

In short, he's perplexing as hell.

Batman's forbidden the rest of the team to confront Hood without backup. And you're technically not supposed to be on patrol tonight. But if you can intercept Hood, that'll be a huge win.

Hood keeps on packing the duffels. You hesitate, then step forward.

"Get away from the bags," you say. "I won't ask twice."

Hood looks at you. "Nocturne's a pretty cool name, I'll admit. And I like the boots. But I still think you oughta call it quits."

He zips up the bags, stands, and kicks them to the corner of the roof.

"Because you're just that unstoppable?" you ask, hands curling into fists.

"Yeah. But mostly 'cause I know you're made for so much more than this, sweetheart."

And that is the third and perhaps most bewildering thing about your encounters with Red Hood: you've gotten the creeping feeling that he... likes you.

Which is ridiculous, and if you ever breathed a word of that to anybody, Batman would probably check you into Arkham.

You take another careful step forward. Hood leans against the railing and folds his arms.

"This the part where you apprehend and hogtie me for innocently packing a duffel bag?" he asks.

You glare. "Innocent? I know you're making a weapons delivery because I know you've been waiting for Batman to be off-planet to make it."

"Clever. Told ya you're too good for this," Hood says. "Should be in college with those smarts, not playing maid for Batman."

"Are you lecturing me?"

"I'm advising you as your friendly neighborhood drug lord. Lecturing makes me sound like a guy who's got too much money and too big of a savior complex to understand that the way he fights injustice is fundamentally flawed."

"Sounds personal."

Hood laughs. "Honey, you have no idea."

You strike.

Hood parries your first attack easily, which you expect. The truth is that whoever trained Hood cut no corners and you're still relatively new at vigilantism. It's only by the grace of God that Hood hasn't left you to bleed out on a roof.

You kick his shin, but Hood turns on the instep and blocks. You go for his shoulder, where his armor separates to give him more movement. But Hood's ready for that too, and he catches your arm.

"Gotta keep that right arm up," he says. "Surprised no one's trained that outta you yet."

You elbow Hood in the throat. He coughs and lets go.

"Like that?" you ask, muscles tense with adrenaline.

Hood makes a sound that might be a laugh, still choked from your hit. "Just like that, honeylove. Good job."

"I don't need feedback," you snap, immediately going back in for another hit.

"Sorry. I'll make this quick then. I do have a delivery."

On the next strike, you advance, using a technique Nightwing drilled into your head for bigger opponents. Hood goes down and you land atop him.

"Oh, that's a Nightwing takedown if I've ever seen one," Hood says beneath you.

You're close enough that you can hear his breathing through the decoder. Pride swells in you at taking him down. Not even Batman has managed such a thing.

Hood is warm and big. His shoulder span alone dwarfs you. When you'd seen him from afar, fighting Batman or Nightwing, you'd been terrified.

But now, perhaps stupidly, you feel comfortable. Annoyed, but safe. Something about him reminds you of home. Makes your stomach flip in a good way.

Which is terrifying.

"You're coming with me," you say, reaching for your cuffs.

"If only. Unfortunately, you've forgotten a teensy weensy detail, dearest."

Hood bucks you off, legs first. Your feet fly into the air, which allows him to flip your positions. You wince, preparing for a concussion upon impact as you go down. But Hood cushions your fall and neatly rolls you over. Your back is pressed into the concrete, hands locked over your head. Hood's weight holds down your hips and legs.

He looms over you, easily holding you down. Your face grows hot.

"How did—" You squirm in his grip. "I had you!"

"Weight distribution, sweets. Tell Al—one of the Bats to add weight to your boots. They keep you light on your feet, but you were depending on them too much to hold me down, and we ain't evenly matched there."

You thrash in his grip. "Hood, I swear to fucking—"

"Easy. Don't sweat it, sweetheart. You haven't been doing this for very long. That was a good takedown, regardless. I'm impressed."

"Screw you."

He hums. You can tell he's smiling under the helmet. "Sorry, I forgot. You don't like feedback."

Hood strokes the inside of your wrist. You aren't sure he's aware he's doing it. His grip is firm but light. He's not trying to hurt you. Your pulse is in your throat.

For a moment, you're both still. Hood seems caught in a trance, like even Superman couldn't tear him away from this moment. From you. And it's not that you're afraid, you're just... you're...

"How do you know so much about me?" you blurt, because it's puzzled the whole team. "You been spying on me?"

"'Course not. Unlike your boss, I respect privacy. No, I did research. I recognized you from when you'd hang around that second Robin. Shrimpy little guy. What'd ya even see in him?"

The grief overtakes you before you can control your mouth.

"You don't know anything about me or him," you spit. "Don't fucking talk about him. He had more skill and goodness in his pinkie than you'll have in a lifetime. And you could learn a thing from him about changing a city. He'd tell you that fear alone never works."

Hood is quiet for a long moment. Then he speaks.

"Where's your distress signal?"

"Why would I tell—"

Hood shifts over you, cutting off your reply. He pulls a ziptie around your wrists. They're not even a little tight. You could probably slip out of them if you had five minutes.

"I know you're not s'posed to be out tonight," he whispers in your ear. "'S not your patrol night. Good thing you're my favorite."

You nearly swallow your tongue. "How do you—I don't—"

"Uh-huh. So you be good from now on, yeah? Wouldn't wanna have to keep tying you up like this."

You lift your chin. "We'll switch positions soon enough."

Hood snorts. "Okay, I know you heard how that soun—"

"I heard it," you say grumpily. "Just get on with it. Jerk."

"As you wish. Distress signal?"

"Collar."

Hood presses the button under your collar. Your breath hitches as his gloved fingers graze your neck.

"Oh? Does somebody like getting pinned down?"

"In your dreams."

Hood laughs. He zipties your ankles last, then sits you upright against the railing.

"Not too tight, are they?" he asks. "I know you've got a circulation problem."

You squint. "You seem to know a lot about me. Not fair that I don't know much about you, Hood."

"'S just business, honeylove," he says, scooping up his duffel. "Now I don't wanna see you in a suit anymore, comprende?"

"Or you'll what? Shoot me?"

Hood pauses, eerily still. He turns those glowing white eyes upon you. Your heart picks up.

"No," he says, so serious it startles you. "But someone else might. And I don't want you to face the same fate as your good friend Robin."

He vaults over the railing before you can respond. Your head thunks lightly as you lean back and wonder if you're really just business to the Red Hood.

(pt 2)

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood fanfiction #jason todd imagine #dc fanfiction #batman fanfiction #jason todd #dc #inbox #blurb

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kissitbttr · 3 months

Text

“toji, baby? can you do alena’s hair please?” you call out from the kitchen, fixing simple breakfast for your little family,

he nods at you, giving a short kiss on your cheek as a confirmation before heading towards his little girl’s play pen. his eyes brighten when alena is busying herself with her my little pony plushies, adorable messy hair comes into view making him chuckle,

“hey ya sweetheart, having fun?” toji walks around to face his pretty baby, the sound of her dad’s voice causing her to look up. he swears the moment her big round eyes stare at him, he’s ready to kill anyone who dares to try take his daughter away,

with a toothy smile, she babbles away while clapping her chubby hands. feeling excited to see her dad there, seemingly cannot wait to be picked up by him,

“aren’t you the prettiest girl i have ever seen, hm? aside from mama of course. dunno what she sees in me. she’s a ten and i’m not. i’m happy she chose me, though. such a lucky bastard” toji makes sure to whisper the last word to himself because he doesn’t want his daughter to hear him cuss.

his hands go under her armpits before lifting her up, little legs kicking away in excitement making toji chuckles. “time to do my little alena’s hair!”

he brings her to the baby chair near the dining room, where you can see it too. your eyes look over your shoulder and smile at the sight of him setting your baby down,

“got anything to work on today?”

toji shakes his head, rolling the sleeves of his sweater up to the elbows. “nah. took a day off. i’m letting shiu handling it today”

one of your eyebrows quirks up, turning out to plate the cut up fruits and eggs on the table. “oh yeah? what if there’s something really important come up that you need to—“

“i need my girls more” he cuts you off with a soft voice and a grin, his eyes look up to you and see you mirroring his smile but it’s much more prettier to him. “plus, i’m sure they can handle not having their ceo for today. and tomorrow. maybe”

his fingers move to thread lightly under the strands of alena’s hair as she toys with a little action figure toji had gifted her few days prior. it keeps herself busied while he’s doing her hair,

“how about you, baby? got any meetings or anything?”

you shrug, grabbing a few utensils. “just one with the team to discuss the launch of our newest design. should be quick, though. hopefully. i need to speed up the process and everything because it seems that everyone is fuc—freaking slow.”

he chuckles, tying a band around alena’s mini bun. “i’m sure you can handle it, darling. you’re ruthless like that. one of the reasons why i fell on love with you, is it?”

“would you still, if i had to kill them?”

“absolutely” he answers without hesitation making you laugh,

“god, we are bad parents”

“don’t know what you’re talking about. we’re pretty good at what we’re doing” toji smiles at his baby, who suddenly chucks the toy towards the table. “damn, our baby got strength”

“got that from you, i think” you lean towards the table and snatch a cut up strawberry before plucking it into your mouth,

“nope. that’s from you” he corrects, softly patting alena’s hair that are sticking out. “remember when we had an argument and you almost hit me with—“

“we do not talk about that” you shake your head, not wanting to remember,

“was pretty sexy to me” he replies casually. “i was so turned on by that”

both of you share a laugh, causing alena to look up at both of you at the sound of it.

“so—do i get to see my pretty wife’s latest design or—“ toji trails off, planting a kiss on alena’s chubby cheek before grabbing a handful of berries for himself,

you tilt your head to the side, a small smirk tugs upon your lips and toji immediately catches what that look meant for,

“i see trouble” he eyes you for a second, chewing on the juicy fruit. “is it sexy? god, if it was you can’t keep teasing me, baby. i’d die”

“so dramatic, you won’t die”

“i will for you though” and he means it. “is it dresses? leather involved perhaps?”

shaking your head, you reply “lingeries, babe. night gowns, garters, panties. all that”

and toji suddenly stops moving. breathing even. his eyes widening at the mention of lingeries,

“oh fuck. you are killing me.”

“toji! language!”

but alena just laughs at her silly banter between her parents

#dad!toji #toji fushiguro #toji fluff

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theemporium · 8 months

Text

The long stints on tour where you couldn’t join him were always rough.

As much as you wanted to, it was unrealistic that you could uproot your life and join Harry around the world for two years. He tried to convince you, he truly did. From whispered conversations in the dark just before the two of you fell asleep to casual discussions over dinner, all leading up to him even attempting to convince you with a powerpoint presentation he made with the help of Mitch. The boy had done his best to try and assure you that you could join him, that he could take care of you.

But you stood your ground.

Because as much as you loved him and as much as you wanted to witness him on his biggest tour yet, you couldn’t just drop all your responsibilities for two years. You liked what you did. You liked that you never had to rely on him, despite what many fans thought. And you liked the idea that Harry would always have a home to come back to, that the place you two shared in London was just a little piece of you and him that you kept alive whilst he travelled the world.

And Harry respected it, even if he selfishly wished you would join him. He respected that you didn’t want to spend the next two years in and out of hotel rooms, planes and stadiums. He respected that you supported him no matter what, and he wanted to return the favour.

And it just meant the shows you did fly out for were all the more special.

“Fuck, that’s it, baby. Just like that.”

A whimper got caught in your throat as you felt his hands squeezing your hips, tugging you back against him until his cock was deep inside you and his hips were pressed against your ass. You waited for him to move, to pull out before thrusting back inside you, hitting that spot that made your eyes roll back and your head spin.

But he stayed exactly where he was, squeezing your hips in warning when you tried to pull away from him.

“Harry,” you whined, your voice a little breathless and rough. “Please.”

You could hear the smirk on his face even if you couldn’t see it. “Please what?”

“You know what,” you bit back, but he still didn’t relent the grip he had on your hips as you wiggled back against him. “Move.” There was a pause. “Please.”

“Such a brat for the camera, love,” he commented, so casual and nonchalant like the mere mention of his phone set up on the nightstand didn’t make your walls clench around his cock. “You just fucking love actin’ up, don’t ya? Love it when I fuck the lil’ brat outta you.”

“Just want you to fuck me like you said you would,” you retorted, a little snappy and maybe a little sassy with your response. But that was quickly fixed with a swift slap to your ass.

“This is what happens when I leave you alone for too long,” he gritted out between clenched teeth as he squeezed the fat of your ass and thighs as you squirmed beneath him. “You get greedy. You get impatient. What happened to my good girl?”

“I am your good girl,” you murmured in response, far shier than your last comment was. But that wasn’t enough for your boyfriend.

Your eyes fluttered shut when you felt his fingers threading through your hair before he tugged, quick and harsh. Your lips parted, a silent scream leaving your lips as he kept your head up before leaning over your body until his lips were pressed against your ear.

“I don’t think you are, love,” he rasped, his voice rough and gravelly and it made your stomach dip. “And you know what m’gonna do?”

You didn’t reply and he tugged a little harder until you moaned.

“M’gonna fuck you dumb,” he continued, his teeth nipping the shell of your ear. “Gonna catch every single second of it. M’gonna fuck the attitude right out of you and make you my good lil’ slut so I can watch it whenever I want.” There was a pause and you could feel him smiling against your ear. “So you can watch it and remember to fucking behave.”

“Harry,” you practically sobbed, all needy and desperate as your walls clenched around him.

“Atta girl,” he hummed as he sat back up, not relenting his hold on your hair. “Make those pretty noises for the camera, baby.”

And the phone set on the nightstand mocked you.

It mocked you as it sat there, leaning against the lamp as Harry fucked you like he promised. As he pressed your body into the mattress, pushing you deeper and deeper into the bed with each thrust. As he whispered filthy words, as he slapped that pretty ass of yours, as he kept your head up so his phone could capture every single moment.

It mocked you when you laid on the bed, a puddle of fogginess and pleasure after he had made you come too many times to count. It mocked you as he held his phone in one hand, the other gripping your cheeks and squishing your face as he cooed at you. It mocked you as he made you repeat that you were his pretty little slut.

It mocked you just the way Harry did, in the way that you loved and would undoubtedly use in the weeks away from your boyfriend when you were desperate to remember what it was like to be his good girl.

#cece's smutober #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut

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milf-murdock · 2 days

Text

Well, I’m about to hop out of the bath, and unfortunately I did have to stop just before things got ~juicy 😔 but here’s a lil WIP to hold ya over

Kate Laswell x Wife!Reader

Warnings: gross men being creepy, but Laswell comes to your rescue 😘 canonical swearing, and just a lil nsfw (I might keep writing if there’s an audience for it lol) I do owe you some Top Laswell, anon

Truth be told, you hated coming to base. It was all so rough and rugged, a veritable Good Ole Boys Club that smelled like cigars and gunpowder. You keep your head held high as your step across the gravelly terrain, the small heel of your shoes adding a slight wobble to your step. You catch the eye of a couple of soldiers and ignore their thirsty gazes as they stop to gawk. Picking up the pace, you hurry to your destination: the bar. Just past the far edges of the base, it was obvious the foul-smelling, secluded establishment was less intended for civilian patrons and catered more to offering a place for military officials to take the edge off. You hated this place even more than you hated the base itself, but you know Kate loves a beer right after a job, and John had texted you to meet them here, which could only mean one thing—Kate was back.

The pungent smell of stale beer and cigarettes floods your nostrils as you open the heavy door. It takes a second for your eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, but you find your way to the bar. Once again, you keep your head held high, pointedly ignoring the men who don’t even try to pretend they’re not checking you out.

You adjust the hem of your skirt as you take a seat on the bar stool, anything to keep your hands busy. It’s only a matter of moments before a slurred voice comes from behind you, and your shoulders stiffen.

“Well what’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?”

Despite your better judgement, you glance over your shoulder to see a tall, older man in uniform. You can smell the beer on his breath, and you don’t even bother to hide your grimace.

“I’m waiting for someone,” you respond curtly, turning back around.

“Hey now, don’t be like that. Just give me a smile and I’ll be on my way.”

You ignore him, busying your hands with a stray thread at the edge of your skirt, tugging to pull it loose.

You hear a scoff from behind you before you feel a rough hand on your shoulder. “I’m talking to you, bitch,” he growls.

Your breath catches in your throat, completely frozen under his touch.

And in the next second, you hear another voice—a female voice, low and full of a threatening malice.

“I suggest you take your fucking hand off my wife.”

Relief floods your body, your eyes fluttering close as the weight lifts from your shoulder.

“Shit, I- I didn’t—“ the man stammers, hands raised as he takes a step back.

Laswell steps closer. “And if you ever call my wife a bitch again, you will find yourself on the fucking street with nothing but a dishonorable discharge to your pathetic name. Is that understood?”

Without a word, the man turned to flee the bar, not even passing a glance to his group of encouragers, who all found themselves instantly fascinated by their pint glasses in hand.

“Katie!” You exclaim, leaping from the bar stool to throw your arms around her neck. Her laugh fills your ears, and it sounds like rays of pure sunshine.

“Hi, bun,” her voice is low in your ear as she holds you close. “Told you I’d be back before you know it.”

You squeeze her even tighter, standing on your tiptoes to match her height. “Every minute apart from you feels like an eternity, Kate.” You can’t stop the slight break in your voice as tears well up. “I’m so happy you’re home.”

Kate pulls back just enough to press a fierce kiss to your lips. Your mouth parts in surprise at the passion; typically Kate’s kisses are on the more reserved side in public. Kate uses your parted lips as an opportunity to slide her tongue into your mouth, immediately taking dominance. You melt like putty in her hands, falling into the kiss. All too soon, Kate breaks the kiss, leaving you breathless and your lips swollen.

She smiles down at you with a tenderness only reserved for her wife, one hand coming up to brush your cheek. “Let me take you home, bunny.”

You struggle to put together a coherent thought after that damned kiss. “But don’t you want—you usually like, uh,” you blink furiously, trying to think past the rising need taking over your body. “Beer?” You finish lamely, feeling the flush in your cheeks as your gaze bounces between Kate’s lips and her bedroom eyes.

Kate chuckles, leaning in close to whisper in your ear. “Fuck the beer, sweetheart. I have better plans.” A shiver races down your spine and you can feel the wetness pool between your legs.

Kate pulls back just a bit, her lips hovering above your own. “Does that sound ~good?” She’s teasing you, her sweet breath fans over your face, and you can’t help but imagine that breath elsewhere. Your cunt clenches, and you bite your bottom lip, holding back an audible moan as you nod your head eagerly.

Kate has you eating out of the palm of her hand. And she fucking loves it.

“After you, my love,” she coos as she steps aside and lets you lead the way back to the car. You stumble across the bar, looking for all intents and purposes like you were the one to overindulge, though you hadn’t had a sip of alcohol. But Kate knows how you get when she’s gone for long periods of time. She knows how you get when the need is absolutely eating you whole, that fire of desire coursing through your veins. It turns you into a puddle, nothing more than a weeping mess entirely at her mercy. Kate clenches just thinking about it as she watches your ass sway in that perfect fucking dress she knows you wore just for her.

#kate laswell imagine #kate laswell x reader #kate laswell #kate laswell x wife

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saetoshis · 2 years

Text

[‹ MAKE A MESS FOR ME! ›]

[‹ WITH ›] barou shoei!

[‹ SUMMARY ›] barou would rather have you making a mess on his cock instead of the sheets!

[‹ MATURE CONTENT WARNINGS ›]

fem!reader, all chars are 18+, cockwarming -> fucking, guided masturbation, some nipple play, praise, pet names [baby, princess], size kink

when you told barou you were sensitive and beyond needy in between wet kisses, you had no idea he'd think about doing this.

"jus' cleaned the sheets princess, can't have ya cummin' all over the bed," barou rasps out lowly as he slips the head of his cock inside your taut walls, feeling every twitch and eager throb of your cunt around him - and he knows it won't take very long before you're creaming all over his shaft in a slick mess. "g'na make you feel good just like this..."

you don't realize what he means until he's bottomed out, hips still and pressed flush against yours as his thumb fingers with your puffy clit. your gasped whimper and the tandem tightening of your walls around him has barou letting out a soft grunt, choking down his every reason to fuck you like an animal right now - but no, he's gonna make sure you cum nice and hard on his cock first.

"s-shoei," you mutter between shaky shallow breaths, hands shuddering along the muscles of his arms as you grip them tensely from the pleasure wracking your body. the stretch of his heavy cock buried inside of you makes your head spin with euphoria, each rub he leaves on your clit sending tingles through your thighs. "w-why aren't you moving? shit- can move if you wanna..."

"shh, lemme take care'a my princess first, yeah? not gonna move 'til i got you cummin' all over my cock for me," barou grunts out, eyebrows furrowed as he focuses on the twitch of your clit and the quickening of your walls tightening around him. "y'feel close... can tell, baby. c'mon, lemme see that pretty pussy cum."

your fingers dig into his brawny muscles as his thumb drags quick circles on your clit, tingles and buzzes of pleasure flittering through your body in heated frenzies. your eyes roll back when barou's hips adjust closer, the head of his cock nudging against a sensitive spot that has your breath catching in your throat.

"g-gonna cum for you, sho," you whimper as you writhe underneath him, thighs shaking and slick smothering around his shaft. his free hand brings two fingers to your nipple, twisting and flicking the bud with a soft smirk on his face. "fuck- gonna make a big mess for you..."

"atta fuckin' girl princess, there ya go... make a mess for me right on my cock," barou shudders out in a groan, cock twitching inside of you as the euphoric waves of a blinding orgasm wash over you in pleasured bursts. "fuck, yes... that's my girl, look at you. so fuckin' messy..."

your chest rises and falls heavily as you catch your breath, all until barou's taking it away again as he starts to rut into your squelching pussy. it's like a thread snapped, and he can't hold back anymore until you're making a bigger mess all over him again.

"fuck- feels too fuckin' good. cum all over me again, princess, will ya? i'll just deal with the dirty sheets later..."

2022 SAETOSHIS.

tagging : @tinybarou @garoujo @divilyn @youronlygirl-riri @b-achiras @simp-lauren @aveegrex

#THIS IS SHORT MY BAD LMFOAOA #barou smut #barou x reader #barou shouei x reader #barou shouei smut #bllk smut #bllk x reader #blue lock smut #blue lock x reader #cw size kink #[‹ moshi : writes ›]

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allisluv · 11 days

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Hii can u do something with finnick with reader who is insecure about her looks so she stops eating? So he is very worried and gives her something? I'm sorry if it's something triggering, I just wanted to ask. Hope your doing ok girl love ya! ❤

i promise you this, i'll always look out for you -- finnick o'dair

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

word count: 600 words

content warnings: illusions to an eating disorder / disordered eating, a brief mention of weight, feeling insecure, finnick being sweet. please note that i am not trying to romanticise eating disorders and you are responsible for what media you choose to consume. please read with caution and put your mental health first!!

Finnick O’Dair notices the small things about you; like how your bottom lip trembles just before you’re about to cry or how you push around your food on your plate without really eating anything.

It doesn’t worry him, not to begin with. At first, he just assumes you don’t have much of an appetite, but then he notices you skipping out on meals and staring at yourself for far too long in the mirror.

Finnick has never been one for confrontation. It takes him weeks to gather up the nerve to voice his concerns.

He lays awake for hours on end, tracing patterns down the slope of your shoulders and mulling over his words. Eventually, he drifts off and once he wakes up, your cold side of the bed is what prompts him to sleepily walk through the hallways of your shared home.

He ventures farther into the kitchen, where he finds you curled up on the sofa in the living room, cradling a book as the television plays in the background. The sun shines through the open patio doors and your hair keeps getting caught in the breeze.

Finnick flops down on the sofa, careful not to sit on your feet. You glance up at the shift in weight and offer him a weak smile as he leans over to press a kiss to your temple. “Hi honey. Have you eaten anything today?”

His question catches you off guard and you can feel your eyebrows knitting together. “I– wait, what?” You splutter, abandoning your book altogether and setting it down onto the coffee table. You forgot to mark your page in your haste to brush him off. “Of course I’ve eaten!” you protest, pouting out your bottom lip like a child.

Finnick can feel guilt eating away at the edges of his chest as he asks, “Honey, what did you have?” He threads his fingers through your hair and gently grips your chin between his finger and thumb, angling your head to get you to meet his eye. “I’m not mad at you, just worried, honey. You’ve not been eating much lately.”

For a split second, you consider crawling out of his lap and lying through your teeth, but it’s Finnick you’re talking to. It’s your Finnick. Your bottom lip trembles and you furiously blink away the tears gathering on your waterline. “I just… I hate the way I look, Finnick.”

His heart shatters into shards of glass that stab through his ribcage. “What do you mean you hate the way you look, baby? You look beautiful.”

You hesitate. “I don’t feel it.”

Finnick frowns, and rubs soothing circles down the skin of your hip-dips. “How about we do this, honey?” He makes sure you’re listening before he keeps going. “If you’re feeling insecure or upset or just having a bad day, come and find me; I’m willing to show you all day every day how beautiful I think you are. We’re gonna start small because I know this is gonna be hard for you; what’re you feeling like this morning?”

“I’m not hungry,” you insist, winding your arms around his neck as your stomach growls. Talk about bad timing.

Finnick arches a teasing brow. “Nice try baby, but that’s not gonna work. How do waffles sound, hm?”

You shrug your shoulders and thread your fingers through the golden locks of his hair. “I guess you could twist my arm.” The weight in your chest eases as he pecks your cheek and for the first time in weeks, you feel heaps better now that you know you’re not alone

#grace talks🐚🌷#the hunger games #thg #headcanons #hcs #finnick odair #blurb #fem!reader #gn!reader #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick odair fluff #blurbs #finnick odair angst #finnick odair imagine

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momodita · 1 month

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snapshots. [—hirako shinji]

TAGS / WARNINGS: gender neutral reader, comfort, reader does not like aizen (lmao), light angst WC: 1,000 NOTE: shinji u are everything to me...

✗ MINORS / AGELESS / BLANK BLOGS DNI.

“Somethin’ interesting up there?”

It is not an insignificant thing for another division’s captain to invite another squad’s subordinate to their quarters. But Shinji was never one for convention and has even less love for etiquette.

“Say, don’t you think it’s time to change out the tatami?” you ask instead of acknowledging his question.

Your back is to him, crouched in a corner of the room—staring at the ceiling. He was penning some kind of letter to Hiyori up until a couple minutes ago, humming to himself every few brush strokes; probably imagining her reactions to the stupid jokes he’s undoubtedly including.

“The time to spring clean has long since passed, ya know,” he drawls. Your head bends. Index finger scratching at a frayed edge, coaxing out the light click and snap of it. Loud in the oppressive quiet of midnight.

“When was the last time these were replaced?” you ask. “They're all discolored and patchy. And look—it’s coming apart.” You flick up a broken thread.

“Don’t pull it apart!” Shinji’s protest falls on deaf ears.

“I bet there’s a bunch of dirt trapped under here, too. I’ve never seen you clean it once.”

“Aizen probably had it done when he was captain.” Shinji waves a hand.

Your lips purse. You pierce a fingernail into the woven mat, testing its durability. There’s no doubt Aizen Sousuke had indeed done some upkeep of this room. You’d once walked by while looking for Hinamori and had taken it upon yourself to peek in—just to see.

Aizen was out working, of course. But his presence was unmistakable in the neatly arranged bookshelves, the futon he kept plump and folded, the desk, the tea set. All of it so neat. Sterile. It was like Shinji had never even lived there at all.

“Well, now you can get it replaced to celebrate your reinstatement,” you say, trying to sound casual around the plucking snap of another ripping thread. “They get musty during the summer.”

“Are ya sayin’ I stink?” he lilts. “There’s better things for us to do than fuss over the floors.” He tosses a crumpled piece of paper at you. It bounces off your shoulder. “And stop wreckin’ the tatami—I really will have to get them replaced.”

“Captain Kuchiki has someone do his—I hear they’re good. Efficient. He probably wouldn’t mind passing their name along—y’could have it done in like, three days tops.”

A pause. Then, Shinji sighs. His footsteps are soft and rhythmic as he crosses the room to slide the shoji doors open. A chill crawls inside. You shiver as it caresses up your uniform.

The Seireitei is at its best under moonlight, when the barracks are quiet and the only chatter is from the cicadas.

But Shinji, at least, is suited for its warm afternoons, when the sun is at its highest and it brings out the color of his hair.

(This insight strikes a familiar memory you keep of him: decades ago, before his disappearance, you would catch him under cloudless summer skies, lounging on the roofs. Perched for friendly, passing small talk; or perhaps to strike one of Hiyori’s many easy nerves. He’d tilt his head to talk to you and the light would catch that sheet of hair, illuminating it into golden strands.

And you, caught by the tempting shape of his profile, would always be coaxed to join. Sitting less than a sword’s length apart, he’d no idea of the longing brewing in your chest—so potent it knocked against each of your ribs.

When you spoke, you wondered if he saw it pouring out of your mouth in vapors like you did; if he was keen enough to spot the lift of your cheeks as you smiled away from him.)

“Something’s on yer mind,” he says, taking a seat beside you. “Don’t even think of hidin’ it from me, either. Got it?”

Much has changed since his disappearance. Not all of it good. You weigh the truth against a white lie. Then settle for something in between.

“Nothing really,” you mumble, drawing your arms across your chest. An absence of birdsong makes you that much more aware of your breath. “Just thinking ahead.”

“Will I have to replace them for the New Year, too?” he jests, leaning back on his hands.

The nostalgia of his posturing and banter stirs an acute yearning in your chest. Dry air stings your sinuses. Moistens your eyes. You think of life in Seireitei before everything. Before rising the ranks. Before Shinji cut his hair. Before Aizen Sousuke.

Before Aizen, you and Shinji would enjoy tea together. Or talk. Or admire the gardens. Before Aizen, you’d stare and stare at Shinji to take your fill of him—to memorize the ugly scrunch of his face as he squinted and the tiny lines by his eyes when he laughed.

“I want every trace of him gone,” you whisper finally, face buried. “I don’t want even a single piece of him left behind. I don’t want to remember him wearing your haori, or sleeping on the same futon, or using your brushes.” The brushes you gifted Shinji to celebrate his promotion. “It makes me sick just thinking about it.” From the specks of dirt to the air in that room, Aizen lingers everywhere he shouldn’t.

Shinji’s gaze is a heavy entity. You feel it on your shoulders—his quips withheld as he considers your words.

“I never took ya for the sentimental type.”

You huff an agitated noise. “It’s revenge. Don’t confuse them. ”

“Revenge for me?” Shinji asks, sounding infuriatingly gleeful.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you scoff, nape prickling—caught. “Revenge for deceiving everyone.” Shinji merely hums. “You had your chance—Hinamori-chan deserves a turn to throttle him.” To that, Shinji doesn’t respond. But what is there to say? The wretched ghosts of your past bend to no one.

“Idiot,” he chides, achingly soft, “there’s nothin’ to worry about.”

(The tatami is replaced by the following week.)

#hirako shinji x reader #shinji hirako x reader #reader insert #bleach fic #bleach x reader #snapshot fic #momodita fic

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wifeyifey · 10 months

Text

Shinji Hirako x curvy!fem! reader

This was requested by @electronicwitchcollection with prompt ❤️‍🔥2 for my 1000+ Follower Event!!

SMUT and slight crack

Description: Reader and Shinji took a break from training Ichigo during his hollowfication

Warnings: absolute filth. oral m!receiving, face fucking, clit stimulation, slight (if you squint) voyeurism, dirty talk

Training Ichigo was no easy task. Much less helping him with the ‘hollowfication’ process that Shinji had gone through in the past. Shinji and you were taking a break behind a massive rock in the training basement of Kisuke’s shop and out of view of the other ex-captains and Ichigo.

Shinji was currently twirling a piece of your hair with his fingers before bringing it up to his nose and breathing in the scent of it softly. “God, doll. I missed the smell of your hair. It’s been way too long since I’ve had you this close,” Shinji drawls with his signature smirk on his face. You smile softly, “You act like it’s been years since we’ve seen each other,” you say with a small laugh as you lean in and kiss his lips softly. His hand goes to cup your cheek as he deepens the kiss lovingly. “What can I say? You just drive me crazy, baby. I just can’t resist ya,” he says flirtatiously as his hands go to your waist before they trail down to the curve of your hips before cupping your full ass in his hands and squeezing it harshly making you gasp and playfully smack his chest. “These curves just get more and more appetizing every time I see you, doll,” he chuckles.

You roll your eyes before a mischievous glint shines in your eyes. You grab his tie in your hands as you pull him towards the rock before pushing his back against it making his eyes widen slightly as he watches your movements closely. His smirk nearly splits his face as your hands begin to unbuckle his pants, unbutton them, and then pull them down enough to pull out his already half-hard length. “I can see you missed my cock, eh?” he snickers. You begin pumping your hand up and down his length as it hardens deliciously, “Do you want your dick sucked or not, Shin?” you giggle as you begin to place soft kisses along the vein on the side of his cock while keeping eye contact with him. Shinji let out a soft gasp at your lips brush against him and his cock twitches in your hand. Shinji threads his hand through your hair and as he’s about to open his mouth to respond, he ends up choking on his words as you take him into your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the head of his cock as you taste the slightly salty taste of his precum and suck his tip with a small moan at the taste. Your tongue runs over the slit of his head making Shinji let out a small gasp. You can’t help but smile as you feel his hand grab the back of your head and slowly push your head to where he’s fully sheathed down your throat. The stretch of your throat burned, but it felt so good. Your nose ends up brushing his pubes as you swallow around his cock. “Fuck. Babygirl, your mouth is jus’ too good,” Shinji groans out as his hands grab the back of your head as he begins to thrust his hips as he fucks your mouth at a brutal pace. Tears stream down your face as you gag and choke on his cock. Your hand trails down between your plush thighs as you begin to rub your clit wanting to cum with Shinji. His cock twitches in your mouth and you know he’s getting close. Your fingers begin to rub your bud at a faster pace to try and catch up with Shinji as his moans and grunts get you closer to releasing.

“Yo! Shinji! Y/N! Where the hell are you two?” Kensei yells out for you two wanting to take a break himself and tag you both in to take his place in Ichigo’s training. You look up at Shinji who smirks sadistically, “Maybe we should give Kensei a show, eh?” Shinji laughs softly. Your eyes widen slightly, but the idea makes you clench around nothing in excitement. You both know that you’re way too close and know you’ll finish before Kensei can find you. You deepthroat Shinji as you swallow around him as your hand that was on his thigh for stability reaches for his balls as you massage them lightly making him let out a breathy gasp as he cums down your throat. The combination of his gasp and the feeling of his cock twitching down your throat pushes you over the edge as you cum seconds after.

“I’m going to kick your asses if you guys keep me waiting!” Kensei growls out as he’s still looking for you two. You pull yourself away from Shinji and stand up quickly when you hear how close Kensei is. Shinji quickly tucks himself back into his pants and tries to fix his clothes so he looks presentable even though he would be absolutely shameless if Kensei caught you both. You look at Shinji and smile as you smooth out his shirt and tie. “Let’s just say we were talking about our wedding plans,” you say with a sweet smile as Shinji’s hand grabs your hand with the engagement ring, and his other hand cups your cheek lovingly. “I’ll only agree to lie if you sit on my face after this training with those thick thighs of yours,” Shinji chuckles making your face feel hot as the blood rushes to your face. Shinji feels your face warm up under his hand and can’t help the laugh that escapes him. “Oh, don’t act innocent when we both know where your mouth was two minutes ago, doll,” Shinji says with a chuckle.

“You two dirty ass perverts,” Kensei groans having heard what Shinji just said.

A/N: lmk what you guys think!! comments and tips are greatly appreciated 🫶🏻 Requests are still open for the event!!

#bleach x reader #shinji hirako bleach #shinji hirako x reader #shinji x reader #smut

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