#The more I stare at it the more flaws I see >:|
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but i'm a cheerleader
jackie taylor x fem!reader
summary: where reader is a cheerleader and jackie taylor is the football captain
warnings: jackie being too obvious and reader too oblivious, characters are aged up, 90's but no homophobia cause its pride month and bc i can, really cheesy and lots of fluff, not proofread
a year ago, when you made the decision to try out for the cheerleading team, you had no inkling of the repercussions that would follow. you were uncertain if cheerleading was the right thing for you, especially considering the many sexist comments aimed at the girls. yet, it would look quite good on your college application.
neither extremely popular nor a complete loner, you were content with your close-knit group of friends. however, everything shifted once you joined the team. suddenly, you found yourself the center of attention in the hallways, drawing looks of both amusement and envy, a situation you still hadn't fully adjusted to.
one person in particular seemed more entranced by you: jackie taylor. the football team captain constantly had her eyes on you. no matter where you were—be it the cafeteria, by your locker in the morning, or during class—you would eventually see her watching you, prompting you to quickly look away after making eye contact.
thinking it couldn’t get any worse, you were stunned to find jackie gazing at you from the bleachers during cheerleading practice. you nearly caused the entire pyramid of girls to collapse, resulting in numerous angry stares from the others and a lecture from the coach.
you were starting to suspect that there was something wrong with your face!
⚽︎
"this is getting really weird, i swear, tai," you blurt out as soon as you sit down beside your friend at lunch. after setting your tray on the table, you take a sip of orange juice and tune into your friends' discussion.
"you're overthinking it," your friend, van, steps in, swiping an apple from your tray, "it's jackie. she's harmless."
"right! except every time i look at her, she's staring right back at me. maybe she just hates me," you reply, trying to retrieve your apple but getting a slap on your hand instead.
"hate you?" lottie scoffs, "she's like butt-crazy for you. i bet she writes your name with hearts all around it. no wonder she's terrible at french."
that was an actual good argument. jackie was really bad and hearing her attemps of speaking french was torture. still, it would make absolute zero sense. jackie taylor was popular, stunning and smart and the fact that she was the captain only added to that. she was probably memorizing your flaws to make fun of you with her friends.
⚽︎
seeing your coach step onto the field with coach martinez, the one in charge of your friend’s, and jackie’s, football team, made your heart sink. you’d experienced this before, back when the schedule became so tight that they had to combine cheerleaders and jocks.
a really, really, really bad idea.
the field was huge, yet it still felt too small to avoid jackie’s piercing glare. the worst part wasn’t your constant stumbling and tripping over your own feet and the others', but the relentless urge to look back at her.
from the other side of the field, the girls’ taunts directed at jackie reached your ears, and you knew it was because of you. you weren't the only one to notice her stares.
“careful not to slip, jackie,” van teased, their breathy and tired voice not hindering them from poking fun while playing on opposite teams for practice. she chased jackie, trying to swipe the ball while gesturing to the ground.
“what? where?” jackie stopped and looked down, not wanting to slip in front of you, giving van just enough time to snatch the ball.
“on your own drool,” their joke made the entire team laugh, and even from a distance, you could see jackie’s face turn red, speechless.
what a dweeb, you thought, even if you were also smiling at the oddly funny moment moment.
⚽︎
despite all the teasing and awkward moments, you couldn't deny that jackie's constant attention was doing a number on your nerves. you couldn't decide if you liked it or not, if she hated you or not, if you should confront her or not. one way or another, she wasn't discreet at all.
in the very next saturday, your phone rang with tai's voice, inviting to a party. you hesitated for a moment, maybe a party was just what you needed to get your mind off things but, at the same time, it would be too naive of you to imagine that the thing you were fighting to avoid wasn't going to be in there as well
as you arrived at the place, you noticed the usual crowd already mingling. music blared, voices echoed, and the familiar scent of pizza, soda and alcohol filled the air. a very weird mix, you'd say.
you tried to relax, but your eyes instinctively scanned the room, searching for jackie. it didn't take long to find her. she was in the corner with a group of friends, a jacket draped over her shoulder and a pretty dress catching your eye. but you didn't want to cross her way, at least not now.
"someone's looking at you," lottie's voice linger in your ears, scaring you away from all the jackie taylor's thoughts inside your head.
"hi, lot," you ignore her words, not daring to look in the opposite direction, "i don't know what you're talking about."
"oh, come on, don't be so boring. jackie’s been staring at you all night."
you rolled your eyes, trying to focus on your drink and the conversation around you, but the weight of jackie's gaze was impossible to ignore. you stole a glance in her direction, only to find her quickly looking away, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush.
"seriously, what's her deal?" you muttered, more to yourself than anyone else.
lottie chuckles, "she likes you, duh. everyone knows it except you."
before you could respond, your other friends joined your little circle, a mischievous glint in their eyes. "so, are you finally going to talk to her or just keep pretending you don’t notice her staring?"
you sighed, feeling cornered. "I don't know. what if she hates me?"
"you are so complicated," tai groans, arm resting over van's shoulder, "just go find out!"
with a deep breath, you decided to take their advice. you just had to be confident.
instead of walking straight to jackie, you made your way over to the drinks table, trying to appear casual. she was close by and you figured grabbing a drink might be a discreet way to approach her. if it was too awkward, another word for 'if you were too much of a coward, you could just back off.
as you reached for a cup, your hands shook slightly. not only you had accidentally knocked over a few cups but also spilled soda all over the counter and the floor. the noise drew everyone's attention, including hers.
great, you thought, just what you needed.
before you could react, jackie stepped in, grabbing some napkins to help you clean up. her proximity made your heart race even more.
"you okay?" she asked, her voice gentle and concerned, wiping the counter around you. at least she wasn't judging you.
"yeah, thanks," you mumbled, feeling your cheeks burn. you could barely talk or breath at that moment, too stunned it even took you an extra second to help her clean up your mess.
noticing your jitter, as you both cleaned up, jackie glanced at you. "this party's pretty wild, huh?"
you offer her a nervous grin as she hands you a clean cup. "right, i guess people really like the weekends."
"absolutely. and they're probably too stressed with ms. jamison class. four pages in a day? that woman crazy," jackie's gaze softened as she glanced at you, attempting to ease the tension between you.
"what about her hair? she looks like she's stuck in the 70's," you added, feeling a peculiar flutter in your stomach as a tender giggle escaped from her lips.
the two of you stood there, the awkwardness lingering in the air like a heavy fog as the sound of your laughter slowly faded into silence.
"i gotta say, though, this wasn't what i had in mind when i decided to come here tonight," you admit, reaching a hand to grab a drink, being much more careful this time.
she looked up, her eyes locking onto yours. "and what was your plan?"
you hesitated for a moment, then blurted out,"honestly? trying to dodge you and those pretty eyes of yours that seem to follow me everywhere."
a look of surprise flashed across jackie's face, her eyebrows shooting up and her eyes widening briefly before she couldn't hold back a snicker.
"it's not funny, jackie," you interrupted her giggle,"why do you keep staring at me all the time? do you hate me or what?"
as your confusion amused her further, her grin widened. could she be any more obvious? "hate you? no, not at all. It's the opposite, actually."
you frowned, puzzled. "what do you mean?"
drawing nearer, jackie's gaze held an earnestness that sent a flutter through your chest. "i like you. a lot," you stole a glance downwards, observing her fingers twisting nervously. she seemed as jittery as you now. "i just didn't know how to tell you. and I guess I was too scared to find out if you felt the same."
her confession left you at a loss for words for a moment, this wasn't something you had prepared for. "so, you... like me?"
jackie nodded, a shy smile tugging at her lips. "yeah, i do. i thought i was being clear about that."
it all fell into place in an instant—the lingering looks, the nervousness, the way she seemed to be everywhere you were. feeling a warmth spread through you, you couldn't help but smile back. "i gotta say, that explains a lot."
jackie's laughter echoed softly, easing the tension in the room. "sorry, i just didn't know how to handle it."
you paused for a moment, gathering your thoughts. confident enough, you spoke up, "maybe we can figure it out together."
jackie's eyes lit up with enthusiasm. "i'd really like that."
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Hi there. I wanted to make a request for something a bit personal. All this week, my family has been criticizing my weight (which I have struggled with my whole life) and told me point-blank that no one would ever love me because of it. That being said, I would like to request a writing with Soap. Let's say the reader has been avoiding sex with him for a while. They'll kiss and stuff, but as soon as he starts pulling her shirt up, she pulls it back down and makes some sort of excuse. This goes on for a while until Soap confronts her about it. She basically then goes off, pointing out all her bodily flaws and how fat and hideous she thinks she is and asks him how he could ever think she was sexy. And all he says is, “How can I NOT?” And he makes love to her and every time she makes a complaint about her body or calls herself ugly, she shushes her, ultimately taking her in front of a mirror and making her look at herself and how sexy she looks taking him. And when they're done, Soap should talk about how she's not fat, she's cute and squishy.
Hi anon, thank you for waiting for this! I’ve been really busy and did not want to put up anything half-arsed because this is a very important ask! Anyone who makes you feel like that sucks, and I’ve been there myself with family commenting on my weight. I had a whole rant lined up but then I realised that Soap already had it in hand, so I will let him takeover from here…
TW: MDNI 18+, bodyshaming and fatphobia, emotion support, p in v
It was getting harder and harder to make up excuses. Each time you came up with a reason you couldn’t stay over at his place, or a reason your clothes had to stay on when you did agree to sleep in the same bed, literally sleep, his eyes narrowed. You couldn’t keep this up, it was too hard, too unfair on this sweet, loving man.
Johnny had come into your life like a wrecking ball, all loud mouth and charming personality. You had been swept off your feet by him the moment you’d seen him in the pub, a rare and welcome night out with friends, and he had zeroed in on you. He’d made you feel like you were the only other person in that hot, noisy and packed pub, his eyes locked onto you the moment you spoke to him to say hi.
The last few months had been amazing, he doted on you, texting or calling each day he was away from you back at base. He worshipped you, wanting nothing more than to hear you laugh and be near you. The problem was he was getting very amorous. Kissing and cuddling on the sofa was turning into heavy make out sessions, his hands grazing over your curves and teasing just beneath the hem of your top.
It made you increasingly uncomfortable, your doubts about how he’d react to seeing under your baggy clothes ate at you. Unfortunately, you’d become so used to being put down about your weight, being told you were undeserving of love and affection, that you had never really let your walls down around him. The rot ran deep, right to your core, whispering to you that he wouldn’t stay and this was only a fling for him until he got bored and left for someone more like him.
Finally, things quickly got heated when he pushed you, trying to get you to tell him why you’d shut down and withdrawn from him completely after another failed make out session where you'd retreated to your room and shut the door in his face. He just burst in, demanding to know what the deal was.
“If I let you see me naked you’ll leave!” you blurt out finally, throat tight with the hot threat of tears. Everything seems to stop once you let the words out, and he stands there staring at you with an unreadable expression as you sit on the end of your bed.
“D’ya think I’m that shallow?” he demands into the thick silence, and the pain in his voice cuts like a knife into your heart. “D’ya really think I’d do such a thing? What have I said or done to give you that impression?” He edges closer as he speaks, until he reaches you and then kneels down in front of you.
“No, I don’t think you’re shallow,” you mumble weakly, trying to avoid his eyes but he cups your face in his large, warm hands and forces you to look into his crystal blue gaze. There’s nothing but affection in those eyes, love and concern for you blinding you like the sun.
“You are beautiful, and I want to be with you just as you are, right here and now,” he says softly, but with an edge of steel beneath the silk of his words. “Anyone who says otherwise and fuck off. If I hear them say it, it’ll be the last thing they ever do. You hear me?”
There’s no way to hide from him, and you nod, letting out a sigh of relief that’s quickly muffled by his lips.
“You’re beautiful just the way you are, have been since the moment I first saw you,” he says as his lips trail across your cheek and chin, down to your neck. “I dinnae care what size or shape you are, hen, I love you for who you are. As long as you are happy and safe, I’m the luckiest man alive to be by your side.”
Suddenly, you realise that having spoken your fear out loud it holds less power over you, and your shoulder relax.
“C’mon, get up,” he says gently, and you stand up, letting him position you in front of your floor length mirror. “Tell me what you don’t like,” he instructs you, standing by your shoulder and locking eyes with you in the reflection.
“Well, the rolls around my middle,” you admit weakly, hands fluttering to cover them automatically. With a smile, he takes your hands away and crouches in front of you, lifting the front of your top to reveal the skin beneath. Stretch marks catch the light but before you can react his lips are pressed to them, the soft warmth making your breath stutter.
“Tell me another one,” he groans, peppering more kisses to your stomach while you think.
“My thighs,” you say before you can think about what he has planned. Warm hands caress your thighs through your leggings, and his breath ghosts through the fabric before kisses land. “Fucking hell…” you groan, “do you really think I’m sexy?”
“How can I not, when your this fuckin’ perfect?” he answers between kisses against you hip. It continues like this, you name a part of your body you’ve been taught to hate, and he worships it. Slowly but surely, you allow him to remove your clothing so he can fully show his adoration for every inch of skin, and you feel yourself come alive beneath his affection. The feel of his body against yours spurs on the growing heat between your thighs, and the moment you beg him to go further, he does.
You lose yourself in his loving embrace, letting him make you feel utterly beautiful as he draws wave after wave of pleasure from you. Letting yourself go, throwing alway all of your doubts and fears, it feels totally natural to feel his skin pressed against yours, sweating making your both glisten as you pant and groan. He grinds into you, spearing his cock deep into you, all the time whispering praises and prayers to your dips and curves. Only when you come undone around him does he stop, the snap and pull of his hips filling the quiet until he follows you over the edge.
“Was that okay, love?” he asks hoarsely, panting heavily as he settles you against his side under the covers. “I don’t want you to regret anything.”
“That was amazing,” you breathe in response, heading still swimming slightly.
“Good, you deserve nothing but praise. You’re mine, and you’re perfect in all your soft, squishy glory.”
You can't help but chuckle at that, especially as his rough palm rubs appreciatively over your soft hip as he says it.
"So you think I'm cute?"
"Aye, that's it," he chuckles back, placing a kiss on your forehead.
#storm cat answers#body shaming IS NEVER OKAY#written by a fat bird#john soap mactavish#cod modern warfare#cod mw2#cod mw22#cod mwii#soap mactavish#soap mw2#call of duty soap#soap cod#fat reader#john soap mactavish x oc#johhny soap mactavish#john soap mactavish fluff#john soap mactavish x reader#john soap mactavish x you#john mactavish#john mactavish x reader#john mactavish smut#john soap mactavish#john mactavish x you#johnny mactavish smut#johnny mactavish x reader#johnny soap mactavish#johnny soap mactavish x reader#johnny mactavish#soap john mactavish#soap mactavish smut
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Vox x Daughter!Android! Reader
Chapter 2: Empathy
Ch.1 Ch.2
Warnings: Swearing
A/n: so this is kinda a continuation of a rlly old fic I made a few months ago. I edited it a bit to make it look more like my new style of writing so make sure to read that! Also idk anything about computers so most of this stuff is just stuff I pulled out my ass 😻
Robot vocab-☆♡~!!•?
Third POV:
“Step on here.” Vox says out loud, tapping your oval shaped eyes, glowing blue. Your light blinks a bit at him, while you lift your head in order to face him, still collecting data on everything around you. The floor, the walls, the wires, your feet, Vox. Everything felt so new yet so familiar, you knew everything as well as nothing at all.
Vox sighs out of annoyance, that the robot that he had been working on for years is being quite unresponsive. But of course, he can’t just throw you out of all things away for such a small flaw. To him, you were bigger than his other products, you were a spectacle.
Vox eventually just decides to grab you by the back of your neck, and places you on the charging system for you. Like a mother cat lifting her babies by the neck. You then hear a small click beneath you, as the area around you glows. While Vox stands right next to you, his hands clasped behind his back.
“AW.77//FOUND”
Your head snaps at the voice that comes as soon as the square glows. “Don’t be frightened my failure of a friend, this is just a test! You’ll be in and out in no time.” Vox says in his regular swingy tone. “Now we just gotta see if your basic stuff is there, Yknow just to see if I’m not gonna have to worry about you for the next few years. Again.” Oof, he sounds a bit irritated on that last part. I mean who wouldn’t be after spending hours upon hours on an ai that can’t even respond to you.
“4ARM//:FIREARM”
Your left arm is then lifted by some sort of force that took over your body, then revealing a firearm of some sort opening from underneath your forearm. “Oh shit!! I forgot I added that..” Vox laughs, tapping at the muzzle of the weapon. The socket begins to close as the voice comes in again.
“VOICEBOX//:220”
“☆”, high pitched beep comes from the speaker that is laid in your chest. Vox eyes widen a bit, realizing that he had forgotten to finish up your voice file. Now you can only speak in beeps. “✿$~?” You ask, (I think..) “Fuck, no wonder you couldn’t respond. Alright let’s get you off” Vox then recreates the same scene he did putting you on the square, now removing you.
“You know what? Why don’t you stay here while I go grab my dead friend Velvet to get you some clothes for your naked self!!” Vox asks, waiting for a response as if he was gonna receive one. All he gets is two glowing ovals staring at him, “groan okay I’ll take you with me. Not like you have much to do here anyways”
Vox drags you the towers main elevator, then getting to Velvettes floor where she was screaming at her designers as usual. “Velvette?” Vox calls out calmly as if she wasn’t yelling at the top of her lungs. “Oh! Thank goodness you’re here Mr v.” She says sarcastically. “What do you need? And make it fast. I have a show to do in 2 hours and my models aren’t here yet.” Velvet exclaims.
“Well, I have a new model for you.” Vox nudges you a bit to take a step ahead to present you to Velvette. Velvette raises a brow, clearly unamused at vox’s ‘model’. “The fuck is this? Do I look like I make clothes for Claires?” Velvette complains while poking your fairly large metal head. Vox clicks his tongue, “okay well she isn’t supposed to be a model, she’s a project I’ve been working on and I just need her in some clothes.” He admits, holding his hands behind his back.
Velvette, still in her unamused look, sighs. “Yeah sure I’ll find her something.” Velvette then claps her hands twice before yelling, “MELISSA, THE STAGE, NOW!!” Her dear model steps onto the plush step up chair to try on outfits while Velvette snaps her fingers in order to show off the clothes she has in store for Voxs ‘project’. A short pink sundress poofs onto Velvettes model, Vox immediately cringing at the flashiness of the dress.
“How about this one? It was apart of my summer collection a few months ago” Velvette grins waiting for Vox’s response. “Hmm, let’s uhh look at more!” Velvette shrugs snapping her fingers again, showing a white thigh length dress, folded on the chest to be shoulderless, completed with a blue belt. “Oo this one’s cute innit? I bet your little friend would love it.”
Vox shrugs, he didn’t really care about the aesthetics, just as long as it covered his ‘projects’ body. “I’ll take it!” Vox says proudly, Velvette snaps her fingers, the outfit appearing right in her hands on a hanger. “Here ya go luv, tell your project I said you’re welcome” Velvette chirps. “Speaking of which, where did the cheeky little bugger go?”
Vox looks around a bit, before laying his eyes on you, who’s now covered in large unrolled sheets of fabrics and threat. “Hey! I had those organized!” Velvette yells. Vox, like a panicked parent, runs towards you to grab you by the wrist. “I’m so sorry Velvette! She’s still getting use to this place Yknow” Vox says with a large smile on his face. “Well then get er’ out of here! I don’t need her ‘getting use to’ anything around here” Vox makes a poker face at her, before dragging you to the elevator.
“Are you serious? You could’ve gotten damaged out there! I mean my work could’ve been a huge waste if one of those things fell directly on you!!” He yells. You completely ignoring him, begin to poke the random buttons that were placed in the elevator. Vox slaps his screen, “Jesus fuck what am I gonna do with you..”
You begin to look up at his screen, attempting to gather most of what he’s feeling.
“#$@*”
Vox looks down, to see you, now hugging him, your cheek lying against his stomach. Suddenly, you started to glow pink. Now for some reason, you can feel. Not feeling physically, but emotionally. Empathy was being printed in each wire in your body, and from what you knew, hugging was the best way you could show it.
Vox was a bit confused at your gesture, he didn’t really know how to feel since no one has ever showed him this level of affection. It felt right tho, like he got what he deserved. Even without words, he knew what you wanted to say. And he knew how to respond.
“Uh, I guess I forgive you..?”
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Casey Jones and Keno Reyes
So… since my tiny little fill in the space sketches of Casey and Keno left… a lot to be desired (at least for me and my standards), I decided to go more in depth on their designs first.
Casey is in his early to mid 20s… probably 23 or 24, younger than 2k3 but older than 2k12 or Rise. You probably noticed he looks quite different in this version and that is because he’s older and lives in a different time and place in Los Reyes.
From a design perspective, I wanted to make him an ideal for the ‘California Myth’: the romanization of California- specifically southern CA- as a place where hot people surf all day and the sun shines all year round without a care in the world. He’s got the strong inverted triangle shape with defined muscles, facial hair, long hair pulled into a messy bun, and that one tank top (if you know you know). He’d probably be a gym rat and drink pizza port or modelo at a Board and Brew and go surfing or skating before work.
I wanted to pull in hints to his past (and more canon Casey) so I decided he’s done his own piercing (not the eyebrow or tongue that you can’t see), he has tattoos from his hockey team and a portrait of baby Angel with wings on his chest. He’s probably got some small diy ones on his fingers and a larger unfinished one on his back. He’s got a wallet chain and a prominent scar on his knee.
While his silhouette isn’t very Casey, his color scheme has much more influence with 2k3’s complexion, dark blue/gray shorts, and a red tank top. As The Penalizer, his clothing is much more monochromatic.
Keno is, despite what most believe, older than Casey at roughly 28. Honestly, I don’t know much about Keno. As of designing him, I haven’t seen The Next Mutation but wanted to include another human character and he was a good fit with a lot for me to work with. He also fits the ‘carefree Californian’ stereotype at first glance in his style but most of the inspiration just came from what felt right for him.
I wanted Keno to appear as a stable and staple figure in their little community by giving him square shapes. He wears a California hoodie because the red and white color scheme matched his original windbreaker (he probably owns this windbreaker but doesn’t need to wear it much). The Santa patterned pj pants is a personal anecdote as my family will get matching pjs every year and they’re the only pairs I own. His hair fluffing up around his headphones is also something that happens to me that I wanted to represent here.
His complexion is the same as in TNM with his jacket being predominantly white and gray with red stripes since he and Casey have the same color palette in their clothes, and since I gave him more focus on red, I wanted to emphasize blue with Keno. His pj pants are blue.
#Keno's last name is likely to change due to the name of the city#But it comes from the actor who played him: Ernie Reyes Jr.#The more I stare at it the more flaws I see >:|#lively's turtles#tmnt#tmnt au#save rottmnt#save rise of the tmnt#save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#tmnt 2k3#tmnt 2003#tmnt casey jones#tmnt keno
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Please understand that, more often than not, works of fiction are a fictional exploration of concepts and ideas rather than a declaration of morality
#there’s a difference between fiction that condones disgusting things and one that’s breaking them apart and analyzing them through fiction#reading comprehension and understanding context is important YALL#please I beg learn how to separate fiction from reality folks#every so often I’ll see people making WILD claims about a person because they wrote a complex and flawed character#most of the people I know who enjoy exploring dark and questionable themes in their work are the kindest and most selfless people I know#while the people who sit atop a pedestal and judge every aspect of a stranger that they don’t know turn out to be the most selfish and vile#i should not be scared to write a story about morally questionable characters finding humanity#but yet here we are#Ive seen this kinda stuff do more harm than good too many times#sorry to post a hot take#just good lord I’m old I’ve seen this shit too many times#stop eating each other#you will see conflict and dark themes in my stories#if you cant handle messy themes in fiction please feel free to unfollow or block me for your own mental well-being#I’m sure I’ll regret posting this later but just putting it out there#hate being reminded that as a creator strangers are staring at you and making horrifying assumptions about who you are as a person
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I can never be normal about the bacchae of form any coherent thought on it. That play saved my fucking life. I owe my happiness to the fucking bacchae
#The bacchae#look man. First story you ever see something reflective of yourself thrive and crush what tried to destroy it?#When you just escaped an improperly prescribed medicine insanity spiral after years of suffering#Scared because you don’t know who you can even be at this point because you’re just not normal and unhappy with the future you chose for yo#I literally sat there. Staring at the finale.#I’ve grown more sympathetic to pentheus after a few more readings. He was mad and insecure in his own way#But he didn’t deserve what his fatal flaw brought to his family#because like omg this is the story of a family that’s been broken. This dynasty is doomed to suffer beyond catharsis#And yet. Dionysos and the maenads were like me. And it made me feel alive#dionysus
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— OPPOSITES ATTRACT
pairings: clarisse la rue x aphrodite!daughter!reader (romantic) percy jackson x reader (platonic)
summary: the one where percy jackson has to wrap his head around the fact that the nicest person he’s met at camp, is dating clarisse.
warnings: kinda crack ficy in my opinion, fluff, smooches, capture the flag, reader is percy’s saving grace, percy sees the reader as a sister
a/n: i just got inspired okay? ✊🏽
percy’s feet were booming, heard from afar as he ran to the creek’s shore. the ares trio hot on his tail as they chased him down. he knew he couldn’t run forever, he’d have to fight, but how on earth was he going to win against three trained teens?
as if clarisse wasn’t frightening enough already, her scream sent literal chills down percy’s back, guess she really likes spears? he thought to himself.
the sounds of cheers and celebration drew the pairs attention as luke planted the opposing teams flag into the floor. they’d lost. percy felt clarisse’s grip falter, only slightly, but not when she saw the flag, clarisse’s eyes were currently trained on something behind him. more bullies? “there you are! i was waiting for you, wanted to show you my new and improved skills.”
clarisse let go of him and he couldn’t believe it, the rage in her eyes seemed to dissipate the second you came around. you, the sweetest person he’d met here, were friends with that thing?
that thing was capable of feelings?
his jaw dropped at the sight of clarisse’s hands on your cheeks, listening to you ramble on about who you’d fought and defeated in the woods, the pretty butterfly you’d seen. percy’s eyes were so close to popping out of his skull as clarisse kissed you, deeply. then he wanted to vomit as hands traveled and tongues met.
at dinner that night you sat by luke and chris, happily eating away as your hand rested on a book infront of you. “hey perce! come sit down.” you patted the space next to you as he accepted. “what’re you reading?” percy stared at the cover you’d flipped over to display to him, well he wasn’t expecting that. “where’d you get it from?” you pointed towards your girlfriend proudly, “she said she knew i’d like it, isn’t that sweet?”
percy’s weird version of a smile caused you to frown, “your smile is scaring me.” he immediately dropped it as you laughed, causing him to nudge you. “don’t be rude, i’m just a baby.” percy hadn’t felt so comfortable with someone since his mother. you pinched his cheeks, “naw, yes you are.” he swatted your hands away as you giggled, percy stared at you, studying you.
shining eyes, a beaming smile and an enchanting personality, truly a daughter of aphrodite, yet you dated clarisse. it didn’t make sense in his head, but from what little scenes he’d seen between the two of you, if you were happy than he was too, “what do you see in clarisse? why are you with someone so—” you turned to look his way, percy was worried you’d be offended.
but of course you weren’t, “because i like her percy, and she likes me. she’s absolutely gorgeous, if she wasn’t already a daughter of ares or i didn’t know? for sure aphrodite. and, people are always misunderstood, just because someone seems like a bad person, doesn’t mean they are. when clarisse and i are together, i see the best parts of her, always. i love her regardless, but there’s obviously things that you don’t tell everybody you just meet, or if you aren’t super comfortable with a person then you won’t show all the parts of yourself. i think, when you love someone you accept all parts of them, the good, the bad, the worst. you love someone despite their flaws. clarisse is good to me, and i like her, that’s all that matters. you’ll understand when you find someone yourself perce.”
he sat still, raking over your words in his head, “if one person can feel that way about someone else, they’d explode.” you laughed at his words, he was still young of course, he’d understand soon, you had a feeling. “i’d happily explode because of how much i love her.” you glanced back at her, only she wasn’t there.
“well i don’t want you to explode, i do want to spend my night with you.” clarisse stood behind you with her arms crossed, you could see percy tense up at her presence. with your hand on his, and your eyes reassuring him, he smiled, “i’m happy for you, but if she try’s anything i’m more than happy to beat her ass for you even if i’m broken in half.”
clarisse couldn’t hear his whispers, thank god. your smile was small, placing a hand on his shoulder, you kissed percy’s forehead, “my protector, now no one can try anything with me huh? thank you perce, if you need anything here at camp, or if you just want to talk and eat those blue foods of yours—” his arms wrapped around your neck tightly as you recovered from the force.
“thank you.”
“any day perce, any time.”
and percy sat back, watching the two of you walk away hand in hand. a clear thought rung through his head.
opposites attract.
#clarisse la rue#clarisse x reader#clarisse la rue x reader#clarisse la rue x y/n#clarisse la rue x fem!reader#percy jackson imagine#percy jackson fic#percy jackson x fem!reader#percy jackson x reader
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pet names
Summary: jjk men and the pet names they keep for you
Pairings: jjk men x fem!reader (gojo, geto, nanami, toji, sukuna)
Warnings: nsfw, sexual content, oral, missionary, doggy, riding
Satoru Gojo
Baby and princess. For one he loves spoiling you with lavish gifts and brand named items like the princess you are. He also enjoys taking care of you and calling you his.
His chest always swells with pride seeing his girl on her knees, drooling all over his cock that’s too big for her small mouth.
“Yeah, baby, just like that,” he coos, his fingers sifting through your hair, pulling it back so it doesn’t get in the way.
Or when he’s got you face down in the pillows and ass up as he’s ploughing into you at a pace so harsh it has you moaning at the top of your lungs. He leans in, smiling wickedly as he says in your ear, “My princess takes my cock so fucking well.”
Yeah, he’s a slut.
Suguru Geto
My love. I just know he’s so tender with the way he speaks to you. You can always tell from the gentility in his tone how much he truly cares for you and it always has you melting.
When you say his name, he’s all like, “Yes, my love?” A soft smile on his face, giving you his undivided attention as he’s prepared to also give you his life right then and there.
When he has you underneath him, he’s softly pushing the hair out of your eyes. His hips rock against yours and his dick is nestled deep inside you, dragging along your walls. Your gasping at the feeling of it, trying to hide your face by turning to the side.
He lightly chuckles, “No, love, look at me.”
He’ll slow his thrusts just so he can grab your jaw and have you face him. Once your eyes meet, he moves on to completely fuck your brains out in the most animalistic way.
Kento Nanami
Darling and Pretty girl. He’s just the perfect gentleman, it’s a fact.
He never stares too long, he never speaks aggressively, he’s always taking care of you like you’re something sacred.
When you call for him, he’ll raise his head, tearing his attention away from whatever book is in his hand. His brows raise all expectantly as he looks your way, “What is it, darling?”
And he has no idea what it does to you when you’re riding him and he’s murmuring into your ear, “You’re doing so well . . . my pretty girl.”
It leaves you clenching around him and whining like a whore. You relish the feeling of his hands on your waist, guiding you along the length of his cock.
The gentleman he is, he’ll let you go about it at your own pace until he considers helping you. His fingers dig into your waist and he stops your movements, breathing against your lips.
“I think you can take way more than that, darling.” Then he’s defiling you in a way that’s the complete opposite of gentlemanly.
Toji Fushiguro
Angel. There’s something about a big broody guy like him that sees you as some godsent drop of heaven.
He’s always viewed himself as a flawed man, someone that easily scared others. From his abrasive disposition and temperament to his rough appearance, he was completely threatening. But he was always a softy when it came to you—except for when he’s fucking you.
“Come on, angel, you can take it—good girl.”
He has you folded in a mating press, your knees pushed back to your chest as he sinks his cock into you. He sees you as this dainty little thing and it all the more encourages him to absolutely manhandle you.
In any state he’s ever seen you in, it’s always been angelic in his eyes. Breathy moans dripping from your lips—angelic. Eyes all glossy from tears—angelic. Sweat-sheened skin bathed in moonlight—angelic. So the nickname only seems fitting.
“Yes, angel, that’s it,” he smiles, leaning down to kiss you lovingly on the lips, a stark contrast from the harsh thrusts of his hips.
Ryomen Sukuna
Bitch.
#geto smut#geto suguru#geto x reader#gojo satoru#gojo smut#gojo x reader#jjk#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jujustsu kaisen x reader#suguru geto#gojou satoru x reader#satoru gojo#kento nanami#nanami kento#jjk nanami#nanami smut#nanami x reader#toji fushiguro#toji smut#toji x reader#sukuna
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bitter to the taste; luke castellan
series masterlist
wc + pairing: 5.5k, luke castellan x f!reader
synopsis: a sharp blade, a black eye, and (more than) two kisses.
warnings: this is even sluttier than the last one, language, sword fighting, sharp objects, blood/injuries, reader is still a horrible person and so is luke but he's also a loooser, making out, allusions/mentions of sex but no super explicit descriptions, kind of fluffy at the end
notes: i’m starting to hate this bc i think i’ve been staring at it too long sorry if this is not as good as pt.1 but i have plans for this series ok. also READER AND LUKE ARE NOT GOOD PEOPLE!!! THEIR RELATIONSHIP WILL NOT ALWAYS BE GOOD!!! THEY SUCK!! they are also not real but keep that in mind :) synopsis inspired by crush by ethel cain; designated song for this fic is unpunishable by ethel cain (i’ve got a whole chronological playlist for these freaks like it’s serious)
You’ve always had a taste for violence. And an equally powerful penchant for sloth.
You prefer to watch the carnage, not participate. It satisfies something inside you that you know, if it wasn’t for your laziness, could cause something irrevocable. Who the hell has time for that?. You’d rather lie back and watch instead.
This flaw of yours is the only reason you haven’t stirred more trouble, you think. It’s the reason you never attend camp games or sparring lessons. Sometimes, when you do, a dark muscle flexes inside your heart to curl out of its slumber, forming a hunger you don’t have otherwise. The second it starts to pry you have to rear yourself back and tuck the monster in. Banish the need for something more.
You don’t want to feed it. You don’t know what happens if you do. So you let other people do the feeding for you.
Luke cuts through two dummy heads in one swoop. It’s fucking gorgeous. The moon reflects off his sword, a silver sheen casting his face when he’s in the right spot. His brows are set, eyes so dark they blend with the night. Every motion is ruthless. Satisfying.
You don’t know how many times you’ve watched him like this. He called you out for it last night, but you’re sure he doesn’t know the half of it. The shadows are a sacred cloak to you, and you wait inside them until you want your presence known.
Meet me tomorrow.
It runs through your head like a broken record. You can still feel his breath on your lips and your neck is still tender—had to wear a sweater in the blazing heat to hide the marks. Since you were created you’ve accepted a universal truth about yourself: you don’t harbour affection for anyone or anything. There’s not a single thing you’ve felt drawn to or protective over but yourself. It’s solitary, yes, and lonely, yes, but that’s the way you’re supposed to be.
But you think about last night. You think about the moments between the kisses and the rush. When he teased you against your ear. When his hand brushed a certain spot on your back and something much lighter fluttered inside of you. When you crawled into sleep and thought about him, those were the moments that struck you the strangest.
His gaze pans over the treeline every once in a while, the anger diluted. Then it comes back twice as hard as he shreds another dummy to pieces.
He’s waiting for you. Oh, this is rich! A better person would probably turn around and go spoon their offerings into the bonfire the second they understand what they’re doing is incredibly destructive. But who are we kidding? You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.
So you take a step forward, slip out of the comfort of the dark, and the next time he looks to the treeline he knows you’re there. He can’t see you, but he knows.
You wait. His strikes are less tenuous, much smoother. It almost makes you laugh. Some fucking showman he is.
Eventually, he buries his blade in the dirt and wipes his brow. “Are you gonna come talk to me or are you gonna stare at me all night like an owl?”
You relish in the feeling of shedding the darkness, coming into the light of the moon. “Hi,” you say flatly, but there’s a tiny smile on his face when he sees you that almost puts you off.
“Hello, rotten.” He tries to lean on the hilt of his sword but it isn’t quite tall enough so he stumbles. It’s so pathetic it almost makes you laugh.
“Don’t call me that,” you grimace.
“Okay, back to heathen?”
“Don’t call me that either.”
“Well, you don’t seem too happy when people call you by your name so pick your poison here.”
You don’t say anything, your mouth set in a scowl. “All right, both it is,” Luke shrugs.
He’s different from last night. Less impatient. You hope it’s not because he thinks he has you now—he’s got another thing coming. “I almost thought you weren’t gonna come,” he says with a crooked grin, neither bashful nor ashamed.
You’ve made your way closer to him, the soft grass turning to dusty earth. “Don’t know why I did,” you mutter crassly.
Having abandoned his sword, Luke chuckles wryly. “Yes, you do.”
That bitterness he hides from everyone else pierces through. He tilts your face up like he did yesterday, the press of his fingers beneath your chin almost burning you. You know he’s peering at the marks on your neck.
“If you made me come here just to hook up with me you’re delusional,” you glare.
“What, like that’s not why you’re here?” He pushes your face up a little higher, grinning a little when you add resistance. “I’m a gentleman, you know. I can be patient.”
This guy is full of fucking shit.
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” you snipe. The only point of contact you have is his hand on your chin, but you’re a hair’s breadth away from having everything else. The air drifting between you is almost palpable, shrinking smaller and smaller like it’s terrified of being trapped between you.
He keeps your face still. He’s studying you, and you’re suddenly curious about what he sees. You remember all those looks you’d share at the dinner tables that made this happen in the first place. What did he see then?
“You wanna fight?”
It takes you a second to react. “What?”
“You want to fight. Pick up a sword, let’s go.” He smiles as he finally lets you go, waltzing away from you to unbury his sword from the dirt. His touch permeates through your skin and you hate it.
“What the fuck are you talking about? I can’t fight.”
“Sure you can,” he replies, grabbing another sword from the training rack. “You need to burn off a little steam.”
You laugh sharply. “And you think me waving a sword around is gonna do that?”
“Uh, yeah,” he grins. “It’s the method that lets us keep the most clothes on.”
You glare at him. His smirk is a mile wide. The way your stomach is simmering almost makes you sick; it’s like gorging yourself on candy except this time the candy has a sword and maybe wants to fuck you.
You just watch as he hands you his sword, and the moonlight glinting off the metal has you believing it’s not the kind used for training. “I’ll use the dull one,” he assures. “C’mon, heathen. I know you’ve used a sword before, they force us to.”
“I usually skip those classes.”
He laughs. You can’t tell if it’s at you or with you. “Of course you do.”
You don’t like following orders, but oh, what the hell. Luke knows something about you, just like you know something about him. You’re only a little curious about it.
“Straighten your back,” is the first thing he says once you’ve taken your stance across from him. The blunt of his sword reaches out to tap your hip.
You begrudgingly do as you’re told. He watches you mirthfully, and the press of his sword against you starts to feel like a substitute for his hand. All the closeness you’re hungry for, dampened by cold steel. It still makes you buzz.
He gives you the barebones—the right grip, how to maneuver, the proper balance. But long gone is his easy disposition. The motor inside him that powered all those dummy beheadings and disembowelments is running again, except this time it’s for you. He wants a fight. This is his battlefield. All right, you’ll bite.
You start to spar with the skill of an overgrown toddler. The sword feels like an unnatural ligament hanging off your body. Luke is precise, convicting, far more enthusiastic than you. “You can do better than that,” he prods after your swords clash lazily for the billionth time. “Stop going easy.”
“You’re going easy,” you shoot back.
“Yeah, but I’d really rather not. Come on.”
There’s a moment of hesitation. You think about that dark thing you keep harboured. A muscle aching to be used.
“Come on,” he says again, and he almost sounds pissed. “All of a sudden you’re playing nice? What are you afraid of?”
Something flares inside you. “Nothing!”
“Then pick up the sword and fight me.”
You huff and roll your eyes, but your next swing is far more inspired. Luke blocks it easily, but you don’t care. “There we go,” he nods. “Again.”
This is more than you bargained for when you decided to come see him. All you want is to make out with this hot, awful person and have him tell you hot, awful things about yourself you probably already know. Why do you have to fight to get it?
He keeps provoking you no matter how hard you try. Your temper picks up the more you swing, discordant clangs bruising the air, but it’s still not enough. Luke doesn’t let up. Of course the one time you try to be nice, you’re not allowed to. On second thought, why are you reigning yourself in for Luke? The only other person in camp with a real, consuming viciousness? If anything you should hit him twice as hard, since he’s so sure he can take it.
“No wonder you’re so angry all the time,” Luke heaves out, and it gives you a swell of satisfaction. “You don’t have a proper outlet. Maybe you’d be nicer if you didn’t sit around and complain all day.”
“Shut up,” you gnash your teeth.
“Just saying, maybe you should do something about it.”
You’re getting lost in the rhythm of the swords, the adrenaline, the sweat passing the scar on his cheek. Every swing you think less and less, and that dark muscle flexes more and more. It feels like home to you. Like a good meal. Your bones ache and the world has darkened, but that rotten pit inside you cracks open in full bloom.
Luke keeps egging you on but you can’t hear him. Not like he still needs to. You think you’re smiling, or huffing furiously, or both. The sharpness of the sword intrigues you. A million terrible things reflect off its blade and you imagine them, all at once, until you are out of your body and the black hole inside you has properly wedged itself open.
Luke jabs at you and you bring your sword down with a vengeance. But it’s a little too low. You only notice when he drops his weapon to the side and staggers back.
The fog of violence falters. It fades almost completely when he hisses long and hard, eyes screwed shut, and you see the tear in his shirt. In his skin.
“Shit,” you say. “Fuck.”
You don’t sound sorry, you don’t think you are sorry, especially when he laughs. It’s a wheezy one through his teeth as you come up to him, but a laugh nonetheless. “Knew you were going easy,” he remarks through a wince.
You ignore him, looking down at the injury. A gash across his abdomen. It’s bleeding a little, but not enough for it to drip. You did that. Just looking at the blood, you feel the bitter taste of it in your mouth, the reward a temporary hunger for carnage brought you. This is why you don’t play camp games.
“I’ve got thick skin. I’m fine,” Luke says casually. “I’ve got a medical kit under that tree over there in case I beat myself up too bad.” He’s no longer scrunched in pain, and you’ve got a feeling he’s telling the truth. So you go fetch the kit where he said it was. You need to wrap that slash. Not because you’re sorry for him, but because looking at it makes you angry.
You kneel and pop the lid of the small tin kit, covered in dirt. It’s mostly gauze and bandages. Rubbing alcohol too. “Just give me the gauze, that’s all I need,” Luke gestures.
“Shut the fuck up, I’m doing it myself.” You’ve already torn off some gauze, sitting all the way up on your knees.
“Most people just say sorry.”
“You pushed me,” you spit back, surprisingly forceful. Luke’s smile drops. You take a deep breath, adjusting yourself to get eye level with the injury. “I told you I don’t fight.”
You’re not sure what makes Luke give in, but he doesn’t say a word as you lift the hem of his torn shirt and he holds it up. There’s no proud remark about your eyes lingering on his stomach, or the hesitation in your hands. You stare at the wound. It really is shallow. Your thumb presses at the skin around it and he winces. “My bad,” you mutter.
As you sterilize the cut and wrap the gauze around his torso, you try not to let your fingertips cling to the warmth on his skin. You try not to notice the other scars littered there, most faded to the point they should be impossible to pick up even in the sun. It’s obvious he’s staring at you. Your neck is crawling with warmth. But you don’t engage, you just wrap the gauze a few times and do your best not to notice the rise and fall beneath his muscles as he breathes. Then you fasten things neatly and put everything away so you can get up. Any second. Come on.
“Good?” You ask instead, exhaling.
“Good,” he affirms. He slides a hand under your forearm and gets you up. It stays there once you’re standing. The night stills.
“I’m guessing you’re adding ‘attempted killer’ to your list of horrible qualities,” you go on to break the silence.
He holds your gaze unyieldingly. “I’d consider that a pro, actually.”
You are entirely fed up with this drawn out evening, but you can’t bring yourself to speed anything up any more than stepping closer so your chests brush. “I will give you one, though,” he continues, craning down to your ear. You smell his skin and it sends you back to the position you were in yesterday.
He finally kisses your jaw, just once, then your neck. You shiver. “You’re too tense.” Another kiss behind your ear. It’s not enough. “Do you even know how to have fun?”
“I don’t want to have fun,” you reply bitterly. I just want to make out with you, asshat.
Luke’s breath frosts over your face when he chuckles, but before he can get any further away you catch his mouth with yours. Almost instinctively his arm winds around you to pull you in closer, your hand looping through his curls. It's a relief, knowing last night wasn't some freak accident. This does feel good, actually, and it can happen. Everything you felt yesterday is only more urgent now, hungrier, and you're pretty sure the way you kiss him gives that away.
He indulges you, squeezing the base of your hips as his other hand thumbs across the marks on your neck. This is so fucking embarassing—you think you whine when he bites down on your bottom lip. You’ve never needed something this bad, you’ve never needed anything. But you press yourself as close to him as you can manage and his hand runs lower, slips against your inner thighs, and it’s difficult to worry about anything else.
Until he pulls away. Like a dick.
He doesn’t go far, his forehead pressed to yours, but you feel like pulling out all his hair. It’s a muddling mix of frustration and longing you’re starting to associate with him. “Dude,” you groan, an inner coil only starting to unwind begrudgingly compressing.
“Let’s go for a swim,” he says. The enthusiasm is almost alarming. Almost makes him look younger.
You’re homicidal. “Are you fucking serious?”
“Yes, heathen. Let’s go for a swim, come on.”
He’s rubbing circles on your thigh, which only makes you want to strangle him. “But I—I don’t have my bathing suit,” you string out.
The smile gets more boyish. “Wow, whatever shall we do?”
It’s another challenge. Another dare. And he knows what you want, fucking jerk. You’re going to kill him.
“Fine,” you grunt, and the second the words leave your lips you’re pulled to the lake.
It’s a warm, sticky evening, only made worse with the sweat and the half-assed kissing, so the water doesn’t seem all that bad. Unfortunately, you don’t like giving into demands. So you stare ghoulishly at your fingernails as Luke tosses off his ripped shirt and his shorts so he can plunge into the lake. “Aren’t you going to at least come in?” He asks, but you don’t look at him.
“I don’t like swimming,” you lie.
“At least your feet. It’s nice, I swear!”
A splash, like smoke moving through wind chimes. You look up and Luke has completely submerged, popping his head up closer to the mouth of the dock. “Please,” he says with such conviction your resolve turns to butter. Gods, what is happening to you? You still need that lobotomy!
You sigh, roll your eyes, turn your back to him. “Fuck this,” you mutter under your breath. You undress to your undergarments and you’re not sure if you want Luke to be watching or not. The moon touches your bare skin and a chill trickles through you.
You take a seat at the edge of the dock, knees tucked to your chest. Luke swims over for you right away. His hair is dripping against his skin, and you hate how beautiful it looks. The waterline is high tonight, almost ridiculously so, so he props his elbows up on the dock with no problem. “Come in,” he urges.
“No.”
“Just your legs?”
“No.”
“Gods, I’ll make it worth it, just throw your damn legs in!”
Your eyebrows shoot up. His face is stubbornly pink. Oh, so now he wants something. You take your time uncurling yourself and Luke wades away from the dock so you can put your feet in. The water goes up to your calves, and you shiver. “So fucking difficult,” he mutters, and your pulse flickers.
“Sorry, what was that?” You let yourself grin for the first time all night.
“Nothing,” he hums. This time when he comes to the dock, he wraps his hands around your calves. You’re pretty sure he can stand here because he stops treading. The warmth of the water seems to spread further, long past the threshold of your knees.
He rests his chin just above your knee, water pooling on your skin. “Stop dripping on me,” you complain.
“Sorry.” He fake pouts when he kisses the damp spot. You see, ever so faintly, a diabolic shift in his expression. He nudges your leg with the point of his nose, then kisses it, then starts to move it aside. “Feel bad about teasing you all night,” he murmurs, still with an edge. He presses more kisses on your legs. “I really did want to see you.”
The irony that he’s still teasing is not lost on you. You’re not loving how desperately warm you’re starting to feel. “Why’s that?” You lean back on your palms.
“You’re a very interesting person,” he quips innocently. His hands are cupping the backs of your calves. He’s pulled you a lot closer to the water, and somehow you’ve just noticed. Another blistering kiss on the inside of your thigh.
“You’re fucking evil,” you scathe.
He looks up at you from between your legs. “You have literally done nothing but berate and injure me this whole evening.”
“Yeah, and right after I patch you up you jump in the water for shits. You’re playing infection roulette, Castellan.”
“See? You’re so mean.” He sighs, and in a move that almost surprises you to death, he hoists both your legs over his shoulders and they dangle into the river behind him. “And here I am anyway, making it up to you.”
You are suddenly illuminated on the purpose of this situation. Why Luke is between your legs. Your heart jolts. “Luke, you can’t be serious.”
“Mmhm.” He leans forward to kiss right under your navel.
You hate how much you want him to do it again, how your body burns, but you avert your eyes. “Someone’s gonna—someone’s gonna hear us.”
He snorts, “No they won’t. Either this or you come in the water with me. Or both. We’ll see.”
A huge smile cracks across your face before you push it back down. You’re going to spend a lot of time coming back to this moment, this night, wondering why. “What is wrong with you.”
It comes out like a compliment when it leaves you. You want to vanish. Luke chuckles, and something foreign to the both of you buzzes through the air.
“Are you going to be nice?” He asks against your skin.
“Are you going to be quick?”
His mouth finds your hip bones and yeah, why the hell would you say no to this? He nods, “Swear.”
That’s all you need. You let your eyes slide shut and your head tilts towards the sky. Luke takes your permission and runs with it, pries you open with his mouth until the stars soak through the black of your eyelids.
You discover pretty quickly neither of you are good at keeping promises.
The next time you need Luke’s med kit, he’s already awake.
It’s been happening more and more often. You lurking around camp past moonrise and finding Luke outside his cabin, going for a walk or a stretch or a … something with you.
“Do you ever sleep?” You ask him sometimes between flurries of kisses with your back against a tree.
“Could ask you the same thing, heathen,” he squeezes your hips and nips at your neck, but never answers the question. And neither do you, so you’re both okay with it. You’d hate to give up this feeling, but he doesn’t need to know that.
This is the first time in your punitive life you have felt alive. Like a person, with bones and flesh and soul, a real presence. Not a ghost of smoke and shadow. You are real.
Fooling around makes you feel like an actual teenager. You’re young, you remember when Luke joins you in the dark. You’re having fun. His hands under your shirt and his mouth on your collarbone, the way he bites down and winces when you do something a little too well, when you string out his name and he rewards you for it. You’re both greedy, insatiable people, so there’s a push and pull only the two of you would ever be able to handle. And nobody has to know. Despite all the bruises, the sleepless nights, the swollen lips, all you and Luke share in the daylight are noxious looks, and that's only if he can find you. A perfect crime. Camp Half-Blood’s angel and the vice that lives in the shadows. But in the dark, it’s hard to tell which is which.
“Luke,” you whisper. “Luke.”
“I’m up,” he grumbles, peering up at you. “You shouldn’t sneak into my cabin.” He was already sitting up in his bed when you slipped in, and he didn’t notice you were there till you were right in front of him.
“Worried someone will catch me? You should know better.”
He follows you outside so you don’t wake the other campers. There’s a thrill knowing just one interaction between the two of you could ruin both your reputations forever.
“What is it, heathen?” He asks as the door closes behind him. It’s so dark and your back is turned to him, but his voice is drenched in smugness. “You don’t usually want to put up with me more than once a night.”
“Don’t have a choice,” you mutter, staring out at the camp. You go to chew on your bottom lip, but you wince immediately. “Where’s your kit thingy? The one we used after I impaled you.”
“You mean after you lightly grazed me?”
“Just tell me where it is, Luke.”
Your sharpness could cut through any sleepy daze he possibly has. He’s silent behind you for a second. “Why?” He asks.
“Because I need it.”
His hand curls around your shoulder and before you can think to submerge yourself in darkness, he turns you around. When he sees you, his face breaks from something proud to something … you’re not sure you like. “Oh, heathen,” he murmurs. “What happened to you?”
You guess it’s a semi-appropriate reaction, although you expected at least a grimace. To put it lightly, your face looks gnarly as fuck. There’s a bruise on your cheekbone and your lip is split. But what really draws attention is the half-formed, garish black eye swelling up your right side.
“Just the usual. Pissed someone off.” It hurts the skin on your lip that’s caked with blood.
He rests his thumb on your unbruised cheek, but somehow it still stings. You know he can’t see much of you in the dark but he tries. The prolonged eye contact without the imminent promise of a kiss feels foreign. “You need to go to the Apollo cabin,” he concludes, brows pushed together.
A laugh slips past your broken lips. “No fucking shot. They would not help me.”
“Why not?”
“Because one of their shit-eaters did this!”
The words take a moment to register. You see them filtering through Luke’s brain. He blinks absurdly. “An Apollo guy beat you up?”
“Not beat up. Just … tussled.”
“How much tussling earns you a black eye, exactly? From Apollo kids.”
“Gods, just tell me where your kit is so you can go back to fucking sleep.”
His fingertips inch around the back of your neck, thumb still against your face. “Already wasn’t sleeping. I might as well help you,” he shrugs. “I move the kit every once in a while so some other campers don’t ravage it.”
“I don’t need help.”
Luke opens his mouth, then sighs deeply. He takes a firm hold of your arm and starts to tug you along. “Hey, what—” you swat at his arm.
“You’re ridiculous,” he huffs. “Come on.”
It’s strange. Luke’s never done you a favour before. At least not one like this. You’re disgruntled enough that you had to go ask him in the first place and now he’s dragging you around? “This isn’t such a big deal, Luke,” you badger. “I’m fine.”
“Sure, whatever. Wait right here.” He lets go of you and only then you realize you’re in front of the Apollo cabin. You grimace, and Luke must have noticed because he says, “Don’t worry, I’m just gonna go inside and grab some things. No one’s gonna jump you.”
You scowl at him, and he just laughs. A part of you hopes he hits his head on the way in. You hide anyway.
It’s a few minutes of waiting in the oppressive summer heat, until Luke emerges from the cabin with his hands full. He looks around, hesitantly calling, “Heathen?” Then again. You move out of your hiding spot and he jogs over to greet you.
“Nice haul,” you comment. There’s an ice pack, cotton pads, a few miscellaneous items. “How’d you get them?”
He smiles widely. “Everyone loves me, heathen. It’s not hard.”
“…So you stole them.”
“Yes, but only because I’m too tired to talk to people and I’m protesting for your sake,” he rattles off. “Now hold this ice pack before it gives me frostbite.”
The two of you make your way down to the docks again. It’s morphed into your usual meeting place, since the waves lapping at the shore mask when Luke gets a little too noisy just to piss you off. (At least that’s what he tells you.)
He’s stashed his little tin in a different tree this time. After he retrieves it he sets everything out like a chef preparing to make a meal out of gauze and rubbing alcohol.
Your head has been throbbing for the past few hours. You’re not proud that you antagonized the wrong Apollo kid and got a shiner for it. You’re less proud that you came to Luke for help. Just like everyone else does.
“Come,” he gestures, tugging at the waistband of your pants. You scoot closer to him and swallow the weight of your pulse when he touches you.
Luke slowly presses the ice pack to your black eye, letting you hold it. “What did you do to earn this, anyway?” He asks, head tilted to the side.
You’re hissing because of the ice, half-consciously shifting into him. “The usual. Spat at him. Made fun of his daddy a little too much. Tripped him so he landed face-first in his offerings.”
“You did not,” Luke laments as he dots alcohol onto a cotton pad.
“You’re allowed to say you’re proud of me, Saint Castellan. I won’t tell. You can be mean.” Your voice drips with irony, and you hope it bothers him. The flex in his jaw gives it away.
“You’re always gonna be meaner,” is all he says back. “This is gonna hurt.”
It’s all the warning he gives before he presses the pad against your lip. The sting envelops you immediately, and your good eye squeezes shut. “Shit, ow!”
“Stop moving your mouth.”
“Fuck,” you swear anyway. Your lip burns so hard you can feel it in your teeth.
Luke holds your jaw with his other hand so you can’t shy away. “I’ll kiss it better,” he teases. “Almost done.”
You roll your eyes, but Luke takes the pad off a few moments later. “Serious question. How are you so awful to people all the time?”
A groan tears through your throat with such force your head tilts back. “Not you too! I don’t need a fucking reason, there is no reason. Why doesn’t anyone get that?”
“I’m not asking why. I’m asking how.”
He’s oddly serious, the caress of his thumb on your cheek far slower. You hate it when people want a reason why you’re like this, just to help them sleep at night. But from the bags lining Luke’s eyes, sleep doesn’t seem to be on his radar.
“I just don’t care,” you admit, shrugging. “I don’t care about any of them. I don’t care about what they can do to me. I don’t care about anything.”
“…What about the Gods?”
It makes you cock your head. “Huh?”
“You wouldn’t care about them, either?”
You think, but only about which words to use. “No,” you decide, “They don’t scare me. They’re nothing. What are they gonna do to me?”
Luke snorts, almost nervously. “Uh, punish you for saying that, for one.”
You turn back to him, ice pack leaving your eye as you gesture. “How? By killing me? Pecking out my eyeballs? Burning me alive? I’m telling you, I don’t care. I don’t care about anything. It’s all just nothing to me. I’m fucking unpunishable, I’d like to see them try.”
Huffing, you look back up at the firmament of stars. Luke says nothing.
The grass rustles as he shifts, and his mouth ghosts over the bruise on your eye. “Unpunishable,” he murmurs, like he’s testing it out. Then he places an uncharacteristically gentle kiss just beneath your eye. And another just above. “We’ll see about that.”
You get that feeling again, the unbearable lightness in a place it shouldn’t be. Mixed with the poison lodged in your heart.
Luke kisses you, still so delicate that you wonder if he’s been body-snatched. If anything, your bleeding lip feels soothed against his. His hands cradle your face with no ferocity at all. It seems wrong.
“How do you feel?” He asks after pulling away, dark eyes nebulous and wide. The night usually sharpens his features. Now, they’ve been hushed.
“Um, better,” you reply.
He hums, laying a slow trail of kisses on your jaw. “Did you at least get the other guy?” He asks between kisses. “Like, did you hurt him?”
“Not really,” you divulge, wondering if you should feel shame.
“Why?” He’s made his way to your neck now, nudging your jaw up so he can kiss behind your ear.
“I’m not a fighter.” And, without warning, for a reason you will never, ever be able to explain, your tongue adds, “I’m a killer.”
Your own brows furrow. Luke pauses for a moment, but knocks his nose against your neck. “Guess one of us has to be.”
There’s no more fooling around. No snappy insults, no feverish kisses, no hunger to be satiated. Luke just checks you over a few more times, hides his med kit, and you both get up to sleep. But his hand wraps around your wrist, far less firm than when he dragged you here. “Stay in my bunk, heathen,” he offers. “Leave in the morning.”
You think you’re making a mistake when you agree, but it doesn’t feel like one.
The next day, after you’ve left Luke’s bunk, rumours float around camp that Luke Castellan accidentally butted some Apollo kid in the face with his sword during training. Caused a bloody, broken nose. Luke was very sorry, apologized profusely.
But you know, by the way he takes you behind the stables that night, that he didn’t mean a single damn word.
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#perrie’s fics#rotten to the touch#luke castellan#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan x you#luke castellan imagine#luke castellan smut#luke castellan pjo#pjo#percy jackson and the olympians#charlie bushnell#pjo x reader#luke castellan fic
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It’s a cold Wednesday night in January that has Eddie turning the thermostat up and allowing the government supplied heat to fill the trailer. He glances up at the vents and gives them a quick middle finger, wondering if they bugged the place to observe him or make sure he isn’t spreading their secrets.
He doesn’t really care at this point if they’re watching though. They already held him at the hospital for long enough, poking and prodding as if he wasn’t even human. But he didn’t turn into a vampire or some shit because of those damn bats. No. The jagged, ugly scars littering his body served as a lovely reminder that he was ultimately human.
Eddie glances at a nearby mirror and cringes at his face, taking a look at the long scar running down his cheek, jaw, and neck. The Corroded Coffin guys all said it made him look metal, and he would throw in a, “Hell yeah,” before smoothly changing the subject to something that didn’t involve him for once.
He takes a finger and slowly trails it over the pale pink skin, wondering if there will ever be a day he won’t notice it.
“Eddie,” Steve calls out gently from the room down the hall.
Eddie jumps back and glances toward him, hand falling to his side and flexing uncomfortably as if he’s been caught doing something wrong.
“You okay?”
Eddie smiles and gestures toward the thermostat. “Damn thing wasn’t working for a minute there. You’d think with the amount of hush hush money they were able to pay all of us, they’d be able to give me and Wayne a better trailer.”
But Steve only crosses his arms and leans against the door frame, eyebrows raising gently. It’s not entirely accusatory, but it’s clear that he doesn’t believe a thing Eddie’s saying.
Although they’ve grown close while going through the same treatment and tests in Owen’s new secret facility, it still surprises Eddie how easily Steve can read people. More specifically, how easily he can read him of all people. “Just got lost in thought,” Eddie confesses while making his way back to his room as he sees Steve squint at the lights in the living area.
Steve steps out of the way as Eddie brushes by him and closes the door. He hope it’s enough honesty to end the conversation.
“What were you thinking about?” Steve asks, ignoring the signals Eddie is giving him.
Eddie sighs and runs a hand over his face and climbs back into his bed, quick to pull up the blanket around himself in an attempt to get some much needed warmth while simultaneously covering his scars from Steve. “Stuff.”
Steve rests his hands on his hips for a second and stares, mouth opening and closing for a moment before deciding against whatever he was going to say. Instead, he climbs into the bed with Eddie and joins him under the blanket, keeping enough distance so they’re not touching, but they can still feel each other’s body heat.
Eddie glances over at him, noticing the way the one lamp turned on in the room gives him a nice golden halo. He looks gorgeous and untouchable - exactly how Eddie used to think of him through high school and sometimes even now. The perfect golden boy. But despite the name Eddie gave to him years ago, he can’t ignore the flaws that Steve possesses, yet they somehow make him even more perfect to him. Or maybe just human.
Eddie shakes his head and glances away. He wishes Steve came over to smoke so Eddie could blame the drugs on the way his thoughts race when he’s next to him. Instead, he has to face up to his enormous crush on the perfect golden boy.
“Have any plans for Valentine’s Day?” Steve asks out of the blue.
Eddie snorts and glances at him, only to laugh harder when he sees the adorable look of confusion on his face.
Steve’s brows furrow but the edges of his lips quirk up. “What?”
Eddie pulls a strand of hair in front of his face to try to hide his wife smile. “Kind of random, don’t you think?”
Steve rolls his eyes. “I never said I was great at starting conversations. But I was just thinking about what holiday is next.”
“The worst one,” Eddie complains.
Steve turns toward him. “And why’s that?”
Eddie sighs and let’s himself go on a tangent. “It’s the one day of the year where people feel like they have to do all this shit for their partner, and the rest of the year, they think they can just get by doing the bare minimum. And people are left realizing what it would be like if their ‘other half’ actually put in an effort day to day. And then for all the single people, it’s a day where love is shoved in their face, and they have to feel bad and sometimes disgusted by all the public displays of affection going on around them and… I just hate it all. The stupid chocolates in the red heart boxes and the teddy bears and big heart shaped balloons and roses…”
“I didn’t realize you had such strong opinions about Valentine’s Day,” Steve says with a laugh.
“Well, now you do.”
They both sit in the silence for a few moments, Eddie thinking about all the other things he didn’t even touch on about Valentine’s Day that he hates, while Steve is probably taking in everything he just said.
Steve bumps his shoulder and asks, “So, I’m assuming that means you have no plans.”
Eddie laughs. “That’s what you got out of that?”
Steve shrugs and looks away with a smile.
Eddie glances at his clock and notices it’s technically Thursday now, and in these early hours, Steve will usually either silently fall asleep or he’ll lay awake in the silence until one of his thoughts has to make itself known.
Either way, Eddie knows he’ll be up for a few more hours, but he’s never regret the sleep he’s lost since they’ve made this silent arrangement.
The bed shifts, and Eddie follows Steve’s lead, laying down fully and staring at the ceiling, trying his best not to reach out for the hand laying beside his. He wonders if he should add something to the ceiling like some type of mural with stars and whatnot.
He tilts his head to the side, envisioning how it would look in the lamplight since he and Steve refuse to sleep in the dark. Or maybe it’s just Steve and Eddie’s picked up on the habit of leaving the lamp on.
“Do you think you’ll make plans?” Steve asks quietly.
Eddie turns to look at him, at a lost for a moment before realizing he’s still on the Valentine’s Day subject. He smiles sadly, “No.” Steve glances over at him and holds his gaze, expecting more. Eddie sighs and gestures at himself. “I mean, I’m not exactly what people want to bring home to their parents at the moment plus with the,” he gestures to his face and drops his hand quickly, averting his gaze back to the ceiling.
He hopes Steve will let it go and not connect the dots back to earlier.
A silence settles between them, but Steve’s gaze burns into the side of Eddie’s face. Then, he finally asks, “Is that what distracted you earlier?” When Eddie doesn’t answer he continues, “I saw you looking in the mirror, and I know you usually go out of your way to avoid them.”
Eddie wants to question how Steve noticed, but he doesn’t want to get his hopes up about something that was just passively rather than intentionally observed. “Yeah,” Eddie states simply.
The bed shifts as Steve turns on his side to fully face him. “And you really think you can’t get a date because of them?”
Eddie sighs and rubs both of his hands over his face. “Steve, who is ever going to love me like this?” He turns and continues, “Privately, yes, someone could maybe get past the scars. But in public? You really think someone is going to be proud to say, ‘Here’s my boyfriend,’ and show off me?”
“Yes,” Steve says instantly as if he has no doubt in the world.
Eddie turns away, trying not to get choked up about it. Because how can he explain to him that while it’s nice that Steve has that confidence in him, Eddie wants Steve to be the one to be proud of him. To want him like that.
“Do you think my scars make me unlovable?” Steve asks.
“No! Jesus, Steve,” Eddie rushes to say and turns to him. He reached out and lays a hand over his side, feeling the way the skin puckers under the thin t-shirt. “These are metal as hell. Hot even. They make you more lovable if anything.”
Steve grabs Eddie’s hand and slowly pulls it off his side to hold it up, the scar on it being presented out to Eddie. “And this doesn’t make you more lovable?”
“Steve…” Eddie protests quietly as Steve pulls his hand close to stare at it.
“The scars you got protecting us. You think those make you less lovable?” Steve asks, pulling his hand close enough that his lips ghost over the skin.
Eddie lets out a breath that sounds like Steve as Steve presses a soft kiss into the tough skin. He stares at Eddie with a worried look in his eyes as he whispers, “Too much?”
Eddie shakes his head, too stunned to get the words out.
Steve intertwines their hands and pulls Eddie’s arm toward him. “These scars,” he says kissing the next one on his forearm, “Are beautiful on you.” He moves on to the scar on his elbow stretching to his bicep, lips trailing against the sensitive unmarked skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. “How could anyone hate these?” He asks leaving three soft, lingering kisses before shifting on the bed to hover above Eddie, still holding his hand but now against his stomach so he can press a kiss against his shoulder. “These scars show everyone what you were willing to sacrifice for us.”
As Steve moves to the scar on his neck, Eddie’s head drops back, giving him more access as he groans out, “Steve.”
“These scars,” Steve says, kissing up his neck over and past the scars, “Are exactly,” he murmurs as he kisses past his jaw and peppers kisses up his cheek, “Why I love you,” Steve finishes by pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth near where the scar that Eddie traced earlier ends.
Eddie glances up at Steve as he hovers over him, trying to make sense of everything he’s saying until it finally clicks. “You love me?” Eddie asks.
Steve nods and squeezes his hand before letting it go so he can lightly caress his cheek. “I have since you decided to be a hero and sacrifice yourself. Which was exactly what I told you not to do by the way.”
“I’ve never been great at following rules,” Eddie breathes out and reaches a hand up to run through Steve hair. “Steve?”
“Mhm?”
“I love you, too,” Eddie confesses.
Steve smiles and asks, “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Eddie says. He pauses before adding, “You know, one time when I was little, I captured a squirrel and it may have attacked me and left a scar on my lip.”
Steve laughs. “Is that so?”
Eddie smiles and nods.
Steve’s eyes dart down to Eddie’s lips and he moves his thumb to swipe over his top lip. “You know, I think I see it.”
Eddie debates telling him that it was actually his bottom lip, but instead he just breathes out, “Steve.”
“Yeah?” Steve asks with a teasing smile.
“Steve.”
Steve keeps smiling as he hums, “Hmm?” When Eddie huffs, Steve fakes surprise with a gasp, “Oh. You want me to find the picture for you!”
Eddie groans, “Steve!”
“Uh huh?”
Eddie huffs and cups his face. “You are infuriating.”
“Is that s-”
Eddie interrupts him by taking matters into his own hands and leaning up to kiss him. He feels Steve smile against his lip before finally kissing him back.
Steve pulls away and breathlessly asks, “So, do you think you’ll have plans for Valentine’s Day now?”
Eddie’s head thumps back on the pillow. “Oh my god.” Steve laughs. “Oh my god!” Eddie says and shoves Steve off of him only to roll over so he hovers above him. “You were trying to ask me out this whole time?”
“No, I just wanted to know your opinion of Valentine’s Day.”
Eddie gives him a light punch to the arm and smiles wide as he stares down at Steve, lying beneath him in the golden lamp light. His perfect golden boy.
“I still hate it by the way. Even if I have plans now,” Eddie comments seriously.
“Don’t worry, I’ll put in the effort year round for you and make sure to keep you away from the public that day,” Steve says running a hand through Eddie’s curls before tracing it down the scar on his cheek in a way he thought no one would be able to do - lovingly.
Eddie leans down and gives Steve a quick peck. “I’ve also got some scars on my hips I might want you to check out.”
Steve laughs loudly and pulls him into a kiss that truly makes Eddie breathless, all while tracing his hand over the scar on his cheek. And for the first time, Eddie learns to love the scars adorning his body.
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NSFW Gale Headcanons (18+)
Some (soft and sexy) thoughts about being loved by the Wizard of Waterdeep…
Gale doesn’t “dabble” in things. He has no interest in being a Jack of All Trades. No, Gale wants to master things. He wants to be the best at things: Magic, the Weave, Wizardly knowledge, etc. For him, true joy isn’t in trying something different, but in becoming an expert in his favorite subject. And guess what? His new (and permanent!) favorite subject is YOU.
Gale, while waxing poetic, has often compared himself to a book: “I require only your gentle hands to turn my pages.” And this is true of how he thinks of you, as well. You are his most treasured Tome, one that he intends to study thoroughly again and again, delighting at finding new passages that he may have overlooked, or finding new meaning in a sentence he’s read a thousand times before. And like a beloved novel written by a favorite author, he will never grow tired of reading you.
But he wants more than to just understand you. He wants to know how to captivate you, the way that you’ve captivated him, body and soul. He loves you more than anyone, and he wants to show you, in more ways than just words and professions of love will allow.
He wants to know exactly how to pull you into an embrace and where to place his lips on your neck to make you shiver. What words to whisper into your ear to make your knees go weak. He wants to know what secret fantasies you have, no matter how outlandish they may seem, because aren’t you clever? You’ve gone and made a wizard fall in love with you, and nothing is impossible for a man who can craft illusions with his hands—nevermind what he can do with his tongue.
And Gale wants to indulge you. He wants to please you, because he will never grow tired of seeing the endless depths of love and adoration in your eyes when you look at him. Something he never saw, no matter how hard he looked, or how long he looked, into Mystra’s eyes.
One important note: Gale is a monogamous lover. He is not a boring lover.
He wants to know how to make you cum the fastest. How to make you cum the hardest. He wants to make you scream his name so loudly that the Gods can hear it. He loves to taste you, after a grueling trek, after a cleansing bath, in the night or in the morning. He’s made it his personal mission to worship your body in every way possible.
Gale will run his fingers (and lips) gently over your scars. He doesn’t find them to be imperfections. They are key chapters in the story of you, and all the more precious because they make you real. A real human with real flaws, just like him.
Lingerie will be met with an appreciative rumble from Gale, (he always enjoys discussing what’s on your hind—ah, MIND…) but he honestly finds you gorgeous in all states: Dirty or clean. In or out of your armor. Naked or clothed.
He rather likes it when you tease him, especially on the battlefield, when his eyes are already drawn to you like a moth to a flame. The way you position yourself a certain way to allow him to see a hint of your naked thigh under your armor is always…appreciated.
But if you really want to drive him wild? Buy him a book detailing some new positions for lovemaking that you think he would be interested in (and that you haven’t tried yet) then watch as his eyes roll back in his head with pure lust. And if it’s a first edition copy? He might actually pass out as all the blood leaves his head for…another part of his body.
After you both have worn yourselves out reenacting the positions described, and often (at your insistence) more than once, he’ll lie awake thinking about how much he adores you until you both drift off to sleep.
And then…at other times…
…he’ll lie awake and stare up into the cosmos, his arm around you as you sleep with your head on his chest, and he’ll think of how he once dreamed of becoming a God. And how it was you, and the thought of losing you, that stopped his foolishness, and allowed him to rewrite his story. To prevent it from becoming a tragedy.
Then he’ll press a kiss into your hair, softly, so as not to wake you, and thank all the Gods above that he’s not one of them.
He couldn’t imagine how unbearable eternity would have been, if it meant he couldn’t have you.
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Desire.
Shin Yuna. The world sees her as a world famous idol, a paragon of beauty of grace. An individual to look up to, a person to aspire towards. Some might see her as untouchable, in a social sphere somewhere near the clouds. But she is more than just an idol with a hectic schedule and a busy life. Yuna is a real life human being, and every human has their flaws, their desires, their dark secrets that they need to keep hidden from the world.
And right now Yuna sure is living up to desires.
"You gonna do it? You gonna cum on my face?"
There she is, the picture perfect idol, sitting on her feet, naked as the day she was born. Surrounding her are three hand selected males, her hand vigorously pumping the cock directly in front of her. Yuna's eyes are firmly set on the glistening knob that her hands are wrapped around, her fingers nimbly moving from tip to hilt, her thumb digging into the meat and tugging and massaging with ferocious intent.
The other two aren't just standing idly by—they're groping and spanking whatever they feel like, an opportunity like this one is unheard of, but a gift Yuna loves to indulge. You see, underneath that cute and bubbly personality, and beyond all her flawless photoshoots and iconic concerts, the fact remains that Yuna is, above everything else, a cock obsessed slut.
The feeling of multiple hands and several hard, throbbing members grazing her petite body always fills Yuna with a pleasure that no amount of her fingers can ever truly match. The pinching of her nipples, the light and harsh spanks to her ass, the feeling of a cock throbbing in her hands. All of these things send her reeling into euphoria.
"Do it! Cum on my face. You gonna make me work for it? Do I have to suck you off? Make you cum by slurping your juices? My hand not enough?"
Her questions comes with a gentle lick to the underside of his shaft. It makes the cock twitch violently in Yuna's firm grip. He's already reaching his climax, that much is evident to Yuna. The only thing she needs now is for him to vocalize.
"I'm gonna... Yuna, I'm..."
"Come on, babe."
With a guttural moan, Yuna feels her cheek being covered by a blast of sticky warmth, followed by spurts of cum across her lips and chin and nose.
She looks down, mouth gaping, tongue hanging out, eye's narrow. The feeling of the sticky substance smeared over her skin, a marking that has her feel warm all over.
"Who's next?!" Yuna moves away from the well spent man, turning her attention to the other two behind her. One has his hands clasped to Yuna's ample ass, the other never stops roughly groping and grabbing her tits, pulling her nipples this and that way.
Yuna doesn't even know these lucky bastard's names—and that's precisely the point. All she knows is that they're some of her biggest fans, and because Yuna's not one to disappoint her supporters, the only reasonable thing for her to do is invite them back to her hotel room for an honest to God gangbang.
No real names, no exchanging numbers. Just a night of fun.
It's Yuna's idea of an ideal way to unwind before an important gig, and she's taking it upon herself to fully indulge.
"You know I offer more than just hand jobs right? My mouth, my pussy...my ass."
Yuna puts some emphasis when she says the word ass—she knows how taboo it is, to be an idol who loves to be fucked in her forbidden hole. Tempting over eager fan boys is such a power rush to Yuna, especially since she always gets what she wants in the end. And tonight will be no different.
Not only does the sudden spurt of her words catch the other two guys off guard, so do her slender fingers, that have already found their way around the nearest cock.
She looks up into his eyes, practically staring into his soul.
"So what do you say sweetheart? Which hole do you wanna fuck? Do you want my mouth? Is it my pussy you craving?"
Yuna smirks.
"Or maybe," her other hand slowly reaches to her asshole, "you're gonna shove your cock right here and treat me like a total anal slut."
She isn't quite touching her tight hole, but her fingertips hover tantalizing close. Close enough to make the guy think of exactly what she's describing, all the dirty details, from start to end. And the mere thought is starting to make him go crazy.
"Have you ever done anal before?"
Her soft and playful tone is hard to resist. This entire experience has left the guy totally speechless. He shakes his head, unable to verbalize any words of any kind.
"Well what do you say Hun? Wanna pop your anal virginity with a world famous superstar?"
Yuna doesn't even give him a chance to answer—she bends down on the bed, ass up face down, spread apart in a position that leaves her totally open to her new fuck buddies.
He watches in absolute shock and disbelief as Yuna playfully wiggles her plump behind, teasingly caressing her puckering asshole in a display that leaves him unable to hold off. He licks his fingers, saliva coating his palm as he reaches forward to insert his middle finger into Yuna's butt. She wasn't lying; Yuna is an anal loving slut, a star whore, and this position is making her squirm. The soft, coos leaving her lips are proof of the immense arousal coursing through her veins. The fact that her pussy is dripping means even more.
"I don't want your finger," Yuna turns back, staring into his eyes again, "I want your cock."
He pulls his finger out with a lewd squelching sound, only to replace it with his cock—hard and pulsating, a sheer result of the slutty actions from the girl splayed out in front of him, seemingly on a platter.
The tip presses against Yuna's eager asshole. She starts to whimper, just slightly, an involuntary reflex as a wave of pleasure fills her veins. It's about to begin, and that moment is like heaven to Yuna.
"Do it," she utters, more quietly now that the tip of his cock is pressing up against her most private place. "Don't tease. Fuck me in the ass. Do it. Please..."
Those few simple, begging words are the green light the guy has been waiting for. A cue to fully penetrate her rear, spreading it open with a searing, heavy thrust. It doesn't matter that it's his first time—Yuna loves to fuck. She loves it in any position, anywhere, in any circumstance. Yuna was made to be fucked and tonight is no exception, that is a fact.
So the feeling of his heavy prick ramming her open, and the sweet, familiar burn that comes after sends Yuna into a total blissed-out state. Even though this is what Yuna was begging for, the thrusts are slow and inexperienced—her new living dildo seemingly afraid to hurt his favorite idol.
"Don't be gentle! Fuck me hard, deeper...please, please! Wreck my asshole!"
Those words are enough. They spur the young man into action, and instead of taking it nice and slow, Yuna feels her whole ass shuddering at the rapid pace her lover is now setting. It hurt. Oh God did it fucking hurt.
The kind of pain that leaves her feeling filled with the greatest pleasure. The kind of pain that reminds her that she's alive—not some brainless idol robot with an image to protect. Yuna is a woman with sexual needs and she's not afraid to admit them.
"Faster, don't stop. More, oh God yes!!" Yuna is spouting out all the right things and it's certainly having an effect. "Fuck me!" Her hands grope her perky ass cheeks, trying their hardest to keep them spread open for the fuckfest raging on in the depths of her backdoor.
Her insides felt great to her new partner, especially as he gets more adventurous and drives her over the edge of euphoria with a thrust here, a squeeze there. His hands are gripping her hips, driving his rock hard length further into her cavern.
It must have been such a fucking miserable sight. The third guy in the room ignored and forgotten, sporting a massive erection whilst sitting on the edge of a King sized bed. Yuna didn't even notice it, nor did the guy currently drilling her ass. But she definitely notices it when he lifts her head and presses his tip against her slightly parted lips. The action catches her off guard, almost. It's just a quick glance and a lust filled smirk, but the quick understanding between them has her open her mouth to swallow the intruding piece of flesh.
"You want me to suck your cock while I'm getting fucked in the ass?! What a joke!"
The man looks dejected. That is until Yuna licks her lips and flashes a coy smile. She shakes her head, waves of dark hair falling around her cheeks and onto her back.
"I'm not gonna suck it. But you can fuck my face. Spit roast me. Make me choke me on your cock, choke me as his big, hard dick fills my little asshole."
Yuna opens her mouth, her tongue laid flat and waiting to be invaded. There's an overwhelming desire to be filled from both ends, a carnal hunger. If that's what it takes for her to receive this much pleasure, then so be it. She just wants her holes stuffed, fucked hard until they're so worn, so well used that her mind blanks into total ecstasy.
Yuna sucks and moans and mewls as he's driving his cock down her throat. Any cries of pleasure from being torn apart from behind gets muffled and lost under the garbled and sloppy sounds of the face-fucking.
She takes his cock hungrily into her mouth, bobbing back and forth, not even worrying about the gagging sensations or the burning in her throat, or the spit dripping from her mouth, nor even her eyes beginning to water.
The taste, the scent—the full sensory overload from receiving both a full frontal assault on her gag reflex and a rump fuck all at once is driving her crazy. Her clit is swollen and sensitive, and everytime she shakes her ass to guide his cock deep inside, her clit brushes against the silk-soft sheets and tenses something tight and coils deep within her core.
It builds, tighter, hotter—and the wetness trickling out of her needy, untouched cunt only aids the thrusts from his eager tool.
Her whole body shakes and trembles. A total body orgasm as she's used and abused by two strangers, faceless tools for her sexual pleasure. They take her, use her, violate and violate, spanking and penetrating wherever they pleased.
And through it all she takes it with grace, glee, and happiness. The pain mixed in with the pleasure was intense. Overwhelming. Every time another palm cracks against her reddening cheeks, every time that she's choked and pounded harder, deeper, it leaves her begging for more. Every thrust from either end sends another surge of the hottest, fiercest tingling through her veins. Yuna's completely submerged into the moment, so lost within it. A cocktail of sheer masochism and perverted need to be nothing but an object for her boys' enjoyment.
Then it happens, with another hard thrust into her slutty backdoor, everything snaps—and Yuna screams into a prolonged, euphoric moan. She cums, and she cums hard. Her second one in such a short space of time. It's so intense—so overwhelming.
It takes a whole minute before the world starts to spin again, the rush and adrenaline is almost too much, the double penetration pushing the boundaries and making Yuna realize how she could die right here, right now, and still not care. She almost forgets she's an idol for a moment, the label seeming so alien and irrelevant as the rest of her facade disintegrates along with her mind and body, dissolving under a sea of pleasure. Slowly fading as her partner finally bursts with an eruption of hot, thick, cum, coating her insides, filling her ass until it can hold no more and starts leaking out onto her skin and the plushy fabric of the covers.
The constant moans of joy must have been too much for the man occupying her throat. Cuz shortly after her ass is stuffed full, so is her mouth, spurt after spurt, sending Yuna straight into an orgasmic daze.
It's incredible—such a heavenly, amazing, thrilling and powerful feeling of a double load pumped into both of her holes.
She swaps from feeling like an object, a fuck toy, something to be used and abused, to just Yuna. Yuna who craves pleasure, needs love, and wants a feeling of validation that she's doing her very best to fill up with constant sexual trysts and promiscuous nights. It doesn't work though, because she can never truly be satisfied. No man, no orgy, no gangbang has ever been enough, never even been close enough. But when it's all over, these times, these moments are what Yuna lives and breathes for.
There's four bodies on the bed, laid out and completely wrecked—Yuna, the man with the enormous cock that spread her anal walls, the man that got the handjob of a lifetime from none other than Yuna herself, and the forgotten dude who eventually got to fuck her throat. Yuna can barely see or talk after being ravaged, but even still she's smiling like the cat that got the cream—because in essence, she had three extra large creamy loads.
It's not enough, no amount of cock could ever satisfy Yuna, but this is good enough for tonight. Tomorrow brings another night. Another night to find a nice gentleman to stuff her pussy that was left unfulfilled, left on the verge, twitching and ready to burst. But tomorrow is a worry for the future—now is the time for rest and relaxation, for recovery.
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( ' summertime sadness ' )
oh my god, i feel it in the air
telephone wires above are sizzlin' like a snare
honey, i'm on fire, i feel it everywhere
nothing scares me anymore.
kiss me hard before you go
summertime sadness
i just wanted you to know,
that, baby, you the best.
— summary: it's been a hard summer for suguru geto to adjust and deal with his emotions. while his best friend satoru gojo has been on a lot of solo missions lately, he's been spending a lot of time with you (fem!reader).
— genre: smut ending with fluff
— playing: summertime sadness by lana del rey
— note(s): this is my first writing smut in a real long time. it won't be my last but i'm sorry if it wasn't spicy enough. i'm kind of rusty i sorry :( hints of virginity lost but not necessarily.
— word count: 3k
— warnings: vaginal sex, fingering, oral sex (female receiving ), missionary, doggy, mating press, cumshot, squirting, and finger sucking
Maybe it was the heat wave.
Maybe it was the curse he digested not too long ago.
But Suguru was throwing up more than he usually does.
His eyes closed tightly as he felt everything come rushing out of his mouth to pour into the toilet bowl. Even when there was nothing left in his stomach to puke, his body kept going.
But you were behind him holding onto his dark silky locks so they wouldn’t get in the way or inside of the murky water. Despite him being in the middle of throwing up his insides, he was embarrassed to do this in front of you.
“It’s okay, Sugu..” you reassured him like you knew what he was thinking of. You rubbed his back gently with your free hand. His eyes glanced over his shoulder to you, he saw the small smile on your lips. He looked over back to the toilet seeing everything he’s eaten today. Maybe even yesterday too.
When he was finished, you reached over to flush it down. You went to get him a bottle of water while he washed his face. His face was flushed and hot. His throat was aching along with his stomach feeling hollow.
After drying it away with the spare wash cloth you had just for him, he took his extra toothbrush you bought him. As he brushed his teeth his amethyst color hues stared back at him. The lack of sleep was catching up to him. His dark circles were so noticeable these days. He knew you must have noticed them too. But you didn’t say anything, you have some of your own if you didn’t cover yours with makeup.
Your dorm had the biggest windows and nobody knew exactly why. But it came handy when it was the summer. Winter not so much. Suguru sat on the windowsill with the window wide open. There was barely a breeze and when there was one, it was a warm one.
He had a cigarette in the middle of his lips. It was quiet today. Satoru must still be away on his mission. He wasn’t exactly sure where Shoko was. So that just left you and him. It’s been like that for the past few weeks.
He could hear your gentle voice singing softly as you showered. As much as you whined about the brutal cold, you hated the warm weather. You didn’t like to sweat. Suguru couldn’t blame you for that. The smoke slowly blew out of Suguru’s thin lips as he just zoned out.
“Shoko’s bad habit is rubbing off on you.”
His eyes averted to you once he heard your voice. You wore an oversized shirt (his shirt that went missing a week ago) with nothing but your nude panties underneath. When you stretched the shirt rode up exposing the fabric that barely covered your rear. He couldn’t help but to stare. The amount of time you two spent together comfortability was formed. There was times you would change clothes in front of him and he would do the same. You never caught him staring but that’s because he knew how not to get caught.
“You see a flaw in Shoko?” Suguru teased you then took another pull. You smiled to yourself, placing your dirty uniform in the hamper.
“Cigarettes don't have a better taste, y’know?” You reminded him. He knew you were concerned about his health. You were always concerned about him. Suguru was hard to read for others but when it came to you. It was like you saw what he was thinking like it was written on his forehead. Suguru swore you had some kind of unique curse technique but you just reassured him you’re very observant. He still doesn’t believe that till this day.
“You don’t know what those curses taste like.”
Suguru put out the cigarette then flicked it away. He took his bottle of water.
“True but I could tell they’re bitter.”
You sat down on the edge of your bed. Your hair was still damp from the shower reaching past your shoulders now. He noticed how fast it was growing. He also noticed the dark circles of your own now. It wasn’t as dark as his but close enough. You looked so much younger without the makeup. He didn’t mind either but you not wearing makeup might be his favorite.
“What gave you that clue?”
He tilted his head to the side with a sly smirk. You both chuckled at the same time. A comfortable silence came afterwards. The breeze was cool now thanks to your shower. You glanced down at your bare feet.
“So they don’t come in different flavors?”
“Why the sudden interest in this again?”
Suguru never really recalled you or anyone really asking him about the taste. You shrugged your shoulders crossing your legs over the other. His eyes sneaked down to look at your bare legs. He could tell without even touching them they were so smooth. He quickly looked back up at you before you noticed.
“I’m just asking, Sug. I just wish,” you let out a soft sigh, “I just wish I knew how to consume them so you wouldn’t have too.”
A light blush crept on Suguru’s cheeks.
“Name…even if you could, I wouldn’t let you.” He smiled. “But thank you.”
“Anytime.” You smiled back. You laid back on the bed and closed your eyes. The heat started to slowly kick in. By the end of the night you knew you were going to take another shower.
“I bet your flavor is sweet.”
Suguru’s honey-like voice broke your thoughts. Your body shot up, feeling your eyes widened. Then you looked across to your friend who hasn’t moved from his spot. You blinked a few times before clearing your throat.
“H-huh?”
“You’ve been eating a lot of fruit lately. Especially cherries.” He told you nonchalantly with a shrug. You bit down on your bottom lip feeling the blood rush to your cheeks. You thought about the times you would eat your cherries after training because you would get hungry. You didn’t want a big meal to sit in your stomach plus cherries were in season.
Suguru would watch you bite down into the dark red fruit being careful not to bite into the seed. You would suck the remains on the seed before you placed them back into your container not wanting to throw them onto the ground. Your lips would a faint red after eating them all.
“T-they’re my favorite.” You mumbled shyly shifting a bit in your seat now. Suguru chuckled lightly.
“Am I making you nervous, name?”
“N-No!” You quickly answered. He let out a laugh, you haven’t heard him laugh like that in weeks. You didn't realize how much you missed the sound of his beautiful laughter.
“You’re lying.”
“Am not.”
“You think you’re the only one who can be observant?” He countered. You part your lips but close them making a thin line. He smirked knowing he used your own words against you.
Sure Suguru would flirt with you but so would Satoru. It didn’t mean anything, right?
But Suguru didn’t speak to Shoko like that and Satoru was just a natural flirt. You slowly shook your head. Suguru stood up from the windowsill. “You’re right, name. Cigarettes don’t taste any better. But I don’t have anything to replace it”
He was walking towards you now. Your breathing picked up but couldn’t be heard. His cat-like eyes stared at you like you were his prey caught in the corner. “I am very convinced you can help me with that.” He stood in front of you. You bit down on your bottom lip.
“H-how can I do that?” You asked nervously. Suguru smiled at your curiosity.
“Easy,” he sat down next to you to move your hair behind your ear to lean close, “let me taste you.” he whispered in a husky tone. You stiffened up with your face completely flushed and it wasn’t because of the heat. You both just stared at each other for a few moments.
Maybe it was the heat wave or the curse he just ate
Or maybe he was tired of hiding these urges he had whenever you would come around.
The way your skirt would flow when you would run or jump to block attacks. The way you stared up at him with your doe eyes. The way you would brush against him so close he could smell your perfume you would spray on the side of your neck.
But Suguru needed to taste you.
Suguru was down on his knees in front of the edge of the bed. Your leg was draped on his shoulders. Your panties were already on the floor completely forgotten. His eyes were half closed not wanting to miss the pleasure on your face as his tongue swirled inside your gummy walls. His tongue would creep and twirl around your swollen clit. You did your best to keep your moans down, not wanting to be loud. But Suguru was making it so hard.
"F…uck…S-ugu…mmf!” You muffled underneath your hand to contain your volume. Your toes curled behind his shoulders. Suguru wasn’t shy to make any noise. You could hear his tongue moving against your wet core. Whenever you tried to squirm, he would use his hands that were placed on your thigh to give you a tight squeeze as a warning.
He pulled his mouth away and replaced them with his two forefingers. He dragged them slowly up and down your wet slit.
“Just like I said, sweet.” His sultry voice spoke to you. You looked down to meet his gaze. His lips glistened from your wetness and his saliva. He had a smirk. He saw you try to shy away breaking the eye contact you two were sharing. He found it so cute.
“Don’t act all shy now, pretty girl. We’re only getting started.” He slowly pushed his two fingers at once. You could feel the pressure of your wells stretching for his long thick fingers. “You’re so tight, baby.” He groaned, pressing his tongue back inside of you. He was always good at mulit-tasking.
Suguru felt himself feeling a natural high. Maybe it was the heat that spiked this feeling but he was sure it was your pussy. The leftover taste of the curse completely washed away by your juices overflowing his taste buds. Your clit was throbbing against his thumb. You started to feel your lower abdomen tightening now.
“S-Suguru! Please!” You cried out reaching down to grab some of his dark hair. He made loud slurping and sucking sounds. He moaned against you to give vibrations like a tease. He pushed your thighs open as wide as they can be. He glanced up then back down at your pretty puffy lips. He pumped his fingers in and out at a fast pace. Your legs began to fidget.
“Are you going to cum, my pretty girl?” He taunted you. You nodded your head feeling your hips move on their own against his fingers.
“S-so…so bad I-I wanna cum.”
“What’s stopping you?” he smiled.
That’s when you finally lost it and gave in. You loosened your lower body into the pressure. Suguru flattened his tongue feeling a gush of your juices coming down. He moaned how much it was and how sweet it tasted. He didn’t want to waste not one drop. Even on his fingers he sucked down on them. He turned to you laying on your back, trying to gain composure. Your lower body was exposed but you still had his shirt on. He felt the warm breeze brushed against the back of his neck.
He forgot about the window that was still open.
“Take it off.”
He told you as he went back to close the window then pulled the curtains. As much as he didn’t care, he didn’t want someone to see the way you make those cute faces when you receive pleasure. That’s for his eyes only. You slowly sat up feeling your legs stiff and weak. The room was dark now the curtain was closed. He looked over at you still with his shirt on. “You really don’t like to listen do you, hm?”
“I-I -”
He walked back over to you. He started to pull the bottom of the shirt over your body. Your arms automatically rose to help him remove the last bit of clothing you had left. It wasn’t too dark in your room. He could still see your breasts bounce back into place on your chest. He smiled.
“Such a pretty girl.” he purred. He removed his regular white shirt along with his loose joggers. You swallowed and moved to the middle of the bed. Your eyes gazed down at him slipping out of his boxers. He sprung free and you nearly choked. You couldn’t get over how he was just perfect everywhere.
His cock just thick and long. He had a few perfect veins, one vein going up to his tip that was already leaking of pre-cum. Suguru noticed you staring and chuckled lightly.
“We’ll make it fit, pretty girl. I promise.”
“H-how?” You blurted out leaning back on the few pillows you had on your bed.
“I have some kind of experience.” His larger frame hovered over you. You raised your bright brow.
“Oh?”
“Mhm.”
It shouldn’t have bothered you but it was more of a bit of this new found jealousy. This new feeling. Or maybe you always felt like this and just repressed it. Like that one time you overheard Suguru speaking with Mei Mei. Of course she was flirting with him but he also flirted back. You felt some kind of tightening in your chest. You gave him a whole silent treatment for the rest of the day. He was so clueless why you did. He did apologize.
Suguru could see your puzzled face. He leaned down to press his lips against your own. Your stupid thoughts were pushed to the side once the kiss began to heat up. His tongue claimed dominance you knew you couldn’t fight for. You could taste yourself on his lips and tongue. You moaned into his mouth as your tongues massaged against each other.
He aligned himself a bit since he was so much taller than you.
“There’ll be some discomfort.” He mumbled against your lips. You rolled your eyes as you pulled away to scoff.
“I’ve been stabbed and thrown out of a building how many times?”
“Not many because Satoru and I were always there to -”
“Suguru.” You cut him off with a glare. He laughed and gave you another kiss.
He dragged his tip up and down your slit. You let out a shaky breath already making a mess just with that alone. Suguru took note and smirked. “I didn’t even do anything and you’re already a wet mess, pretty girl.” He purred.
“S-shut up and fuck me…” you breathed out. He was amused how eager you were starting to become.
“Hmm…you could say it a lot nicer, name.”
“Suguru I swear I –”
He pushed his tip against you. You gasped then your doe eyes widened. You gazed up at him. He studied your face before pushing further. A strong pressure was being pressed against you. Suguru sucked in a harsh breath. “I need you to relax, name. Be a good girl for me.”
It was like his voice put you under a spell.
You nodded slowly and tried your best to ease your body. He kissed along your neck and shoulder. You felt his hair brushing against your heated cheek. You bit your lip trying to contain a moan from coming out. He nibbled down on your collar bone then began to suck down on it. After he was done he went to breasts and sucked down on your nipple. His tongue swirled around it slowly with his eyes staring up at you.
After a few moments, Suguru pushed the tip inside of you. Another shaky breath escaped your lips.
“You’re doing a good job, baby. Just like that…” he whispered into the crook of your neck. It didn’t take long till he was able to push more of his thick grith inside of your tight core. You felt a sharp discomfort like Suguru warned you. He stood still so your tight warms could adjust for his cock. “You’re okay baby?” You mumbled a mhm and gave him a nod.
This definitely wasn’t like being stabbed or thrown out of a building.
He strokes your cheek and admires your facial features. You were used to him staring at you but not too closely. You tried your best not to break eye contact. But even in the slight darkness, he could see how your cheeks darken. You look beautiful as ever to him.
“Y-you can move, Sugu…” you whispered.
“Are you sure?”
You nod. He gave you another kiss then he began to thrust his hips slowly. The slight discomfort came back but the pleasure started to mask over the pain. You began to pant heavily when Suguru picked up his pace. You were moaning and whining with the movement of your hips trying to follow his rhythm. The jolt of pleasure shooting up your spine.
Since the curtains were closed the room’s temperature began to rise. A light form of sweat formed on your forehead making your hair press against it. Suguru could feel a thin layer of sweat on his back.
“Mmm…fuck…this pussy is so good to me.” He moaned into your ear. His moan alone made you become a sloppier mess. He was able to push deeper inside of your gummy walls. Your walls expand for his cock hitting your spot over and over.
“Suguru…a-ahhh..”
He rolled his hips then began to pound into you. Your nails raked down his lower back then clung into your skin feeling your back being pressed into the mattress. The headboard was banging into the wall behind it. Thankfully you’re not next to anyone.
“Suguru!” You screamed out. Suguru smirked. Sure he didn’t want to get caught but hearing you yell his name out, he was willing to take the risk.
“Squeeze me, name. That’s it. Good girl. Your pretty pussy is hugging my cock so tight.”
“I-I…y-you…Sugu” You couldn’t even form a sentence being a rambling mess at this point. Cock drunk for the first time. Your vision was blurry with tears of pleasure but you could see Suguru’s beautiful face flushed. Your hand reached behind to hold onto the headboard. But he snatched it away and laced your fingers together.
“You’re mine, you hear me, name? All mine.” He breathed into your neck before he licked up your pulse. You nodded rapidly.
“A-all yours, Sugu…” you babbled, feeling his lips leave kisses on your chest down to your neck again. He loved to hear you become so vulnerable to him.
"Forgot how to use your words, pretty girl? I thought you were a smart girl." He chuckled pushing your thighs to your chest and your legs against the headboard. You held your breath feeling him slide deeper you swore you could feel him in your guts. "Well look at that, you're completely stuff with me now." His eyes stared down watching your pussy engulfing him whole. He could see himself twitch inside of her.
"S-Sugu...p-please..." you whined just aching for him. His eyes moved to your face. He smirked seeing how desperate you were for him. Your eyes barely open and cheeks darkening from the temperature of the room. He started to pound into you feeling every inch of him in this new position.
"F-Fuck! Ngh!" You cried out not able to move with him pressing your thighs down on your chest with his board chest against your legs. He was heavily panting onto your face. He pressed his forehead against yours then leaned in for a kiss. It was a sloppy kiss but it made it easier for him to just go as deep as he wanted. You both could hear how wet you were with the loud sounds your pussy made with each time he pounded into you.
He suddenly pulled out of you completely.
You backed away from the kiss, confused and whiny.
“Suguru..” you whined out in the dark.
“Don’t be a brat now, princess,” he chuckled, then moved your body so you can be lying on your stomach, “I think you can handle me like this now, hm?”
His voice was so taunting and sexy at the same time. He could have made you do whatever he wanted. You nodded your head.
“Y-yes! Please just…need your cock back inside of me.”
Your hips moved eagerly. He reached over to grab a pillow and lifted your lower body to put your pillow underneath you.
“Arch your back…such a good girl. Look at you taking orders now.” He placed his hand on the fat of your ass. He lifted it up to see your swollen puffy folds, dripping to your inner thighs. He smiled admiring you. “I can’t believe you were hiding this from me. I’ll remember that for punishment later on.”
Your eyes widen and a faint blush crept on your cheeks.
“Geto…”
“Oh. You’re addressing me like that?”
He placed a smack on your ass cheek. You whined and buried your face back into the pillow, closing your eyes tightly. He squeezed and massaged the fat of your ass before he greeted your slit with his tongue again. Your lips part to let out a faint moan, moving your hips back to him.
Suguru removed his tongue to replace it with his cock. He pushed back into you hearing a small wince for you. He started to slam his hips into your ass. Your walls clench around him, squeezing him tighter than before. One hand tightened on your hip then the other was placed on the back of your neck and squeezed. Your face being pushed into the pillow.
“Fuuuuuck. Name, n-name….”
You nearly came just hearing the way he moaned your name. Suguru felt his cock throbbing. You were babbling, slight drool coming from the corner of your mouth. Tears from the corner of your eyes going down your flushed cheeks. You came for the third time before Suguru gave you one last harsh thrust and release his warm load into you.
Your heavy panting and breathing matched with his. He slowly pulled out watching his load leaking out of you now. He took two of his fingers and coated them with it. He brought them to your lips.
“Suck.”
You lazily leaned over to place your mouth over his fingers and do what you were told. When you finished, he moved your hair out of your face. He leaned down to kiss you and your shoulder over the marks he left.
He wondered how noticeable they were going to be. Suguru got up and went to get your wash cloth then came back to clean you up. After placing the washcloth in the hamper, he laid next to you in the stuffy room rubbing your back. You couldn’t keep your eyes open and went to sleep instantly. He chuckled, kissing your lips then got up to shower.
Suguru felt better after the cool shower he had. He placed your blanket over your naked body as you snored quietly. He grabbed his stolen shirt that was thrown onto the floor and put it on.
He walked over to the window to open the curtain half way. He was greeted by the cool breeze.
He sat on the windowsill and went to light another cigarette but he was interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Hey! Name! Have you seen Suguru? He hasn’t been answering my calls or texts!” Satoru’s voice was heard behind the door as he kept knocking.
Suguru gazed over to you then got up to answer the door. He opened the door enough for him to see Suguru but not enough to see you. Satoru was surprised Suguru answered the door. His eyes were slightly larger but a grin formed on his lips.
“Speak of the devil himself.”
“Didn’t expect you back so soon, Satoru.” Suguru smiled back. Satoru scoffed at his best friend .
“Only the weak would struggle with that kind of mission. Speaking of, where’s name?”
Suguru made a mental note of how often Satoru would come to your room. Alone.
“She’s asleep. The heat made her a bit fatigued.” He answered. Satoru nodded.
“It is fucking hot today.” He began to unbutton a few buttons on his uniform shirt. That’s when his eyes lowered down to Suguru.
“Hey! Suguru, you found your shirt! Where was it?”
“Name stole it.”
Suguru smiled softly. A smile he hasn't had in weeks.
#drabbles#jjk drabble#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru x you#geto suguru smut#geto x you#suguru geto fanfic#geto x reader#suguru x you#suguru geto x you#suguru x reader#suguru geto smut#jujustu kaisen x reader#suguru geto x reader#jjk x fem!reader#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk fanfic#jujustu kaisen fic#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#( sugusearrings writing * )
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Where They Like to be Kissed
Where the jjk men like to be kissed♡
Soft and fluffy, probably will have slight mention of nsfw, you know how I do. Find part one here, where the jjk men like to kiss you♡
Gojo
Neck. First and foremost, I see this man as touchstarved. I don't need to explain it. But whenever your pretty lips press against the pulse in his neck, the man swoons. His hands wrap around your waist as he chuckles, a little breathless. It's a weak spot for sure. And of course, you take advantage of that fact. Working him up whenever you can. Its only fair with how often he teases you and your weak points. Kiss his neck while you ride him? Man is instantly cuming inside you.
Getou
Hair. Whether you're pressing your lips to his hair while he lays on your chest. Or you're out and about, you grab the ends of his hair and press a soft kiss to it; he loves it. I think genuinely, he rarely let's anyone touch his hair. Unless they're close friends or its you. But only you have the luxury of kissing the silky strands. I think during sex, he'd rather you kiss his lips (or his dick), but after, he won't say no to you playing with and kissing the locks.
Nanami
Forearm. I'm not even the biggest Nanami simp, but this has me giggling. Anyway. His forearm, he likes when he wraps his arm around your shoulder. You slightly turn your head to press your lips against it. It makes his heart warm. And tingle whenever you accidentally (or not) kiss one of the many prominent veins that protrude from his forearm. And when he's pushing inside you, his arms framing your face, and you turn to kiss them? Oh lordy, man is groaning and has to use all willpower not to cum right then and there.
Chosou
Forehead/Lips. Giggles. Much like where he likes kissing you, I don't think he truly has a favorite spot. Your lips? On him? Instant happiness. Another one I believe is incredibly touchstarved (they all are if you really think about it). But if he had to choose, lips and forehead are the way to go. You know me, I fully believe he's obsessed with your lips. So when you press yours to his, he could cry. (He did the first time.) And forehead kisses are so soft, he simply melts. Loves when you kiss him during sex and places soft ones to his forehead when you're all done.
Toji
Chest/Scar. Now, when I thought about this, only his tiddies (sorry) and his scar came to mind. Sure, he likes lip kisses, and obviously, when you kiss his dick. But I think his true favorite is the same place where he likes kissing you. His chest. For two reasons. One, he knows how obsessed you are with it (he sees you when you stare.) But also likes the mark left behind by your pretty lipstick. He marks you, you mark him. It's only fair, and he loves it. But even if you don't wear lipstick, he'll have you mark him another way. As for his scar, it's for a softer reason that he'll never tell you. In his mind, when you kiss it, it's like you accepting his flaws. He thinks it's cheesy and mushy, which is why you'll never know, but that will forever be the reason.
A/N: tfw you write more for Toji than your bb shdh, hope you enjoy♡
#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen headcanons#gojo x reader#gojo smut#gojo fluff#geto x reader#geto smut#geto fluff#nanami x reader#nanami smut#nanami fluff#choso x reader#choso smut#choso fluff#toji x reader#toji smut#toji fluff#gojo headcanons#geto headcanons#nanami headcanons#choso headcanons#toji headcanons#°•brainrot•°
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Alternate Reminder
Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!reader
Word Count: 3.4k
Content: Miguel has trouble trying to treat you fairly when you remind him too much of what he had lost. Angst, misunderstanding.
A/N: I havent truly proofread this so I'm sorry. This took super long.
Part 2
Miguel thought you were special. He thought it was maybe the universe giving him a second chance when he saw you. His first love and his beautiful wife, standing in front of him while wearing a Spiderman suit. Maybe, he was destined to be with you, after all, a universe where you could understand him. A universe where he could finally be happy with you and Gabriella, a universe that he actually belonged to and he didn’t have to worry about destroying a whole universe just to be with you.
The only problem? This version of you had zero ideas of who Miguel O’Hara is. Miguel thought it was a canon event, for the both of you to fall in love. In most universes he had been to, you were with Miguel. In most, you were happy and had a family with him. In the more unfortunate universes, things didn’t work out between the two of you. The only thing that was unchanged was that Miguel and you were bound to find and fall in love with each other at one point.
However, Miguel hated your guts. His amor was sweet, responsible, and well-organized. You were the complete opposite of that. You were rude, irresponsible, and very messy as a person. He dared say that you were the messiest person he had ever met. There was no sign of organisation at your workstation. Papers were messily stacked on top of each other or swept across the desk. The mini shelf you had beside your desk was filled with books that were all falling to one side, some had completely collapsed. More files were squeezed on top of the books. Miguel’s greatest pet peeve was seeing the bent and folded pages being shoved into a file. The urge to help you reorganize was almost too big for him to handle causing the frustration to build up and was let out onto you instead. Miguel groaned as he met eye contact with you while he was buying his morning coffee. It was almost insulting to him how you had the same exact face as her, the woman he falls for in every universe.
On the opposite side of the same coin, you loathed Miguel O’Hara. He was bossy, pompous, and couldn’t take a single joke. Any conversation you have had with him ended up in the both of you arguing. Sarcasm was something everyone around you had gotten used to, except for Miguel of course who never seemed to catch on. He would simply give you a judgemental stare before giving a literal answer which you would roll your eyes at. At that point, Miguel would think that you’re being rude, and depending on his mood that day, he would either scold you or scoff at you.
“Just get over it, you’re always mad at Miguel anyways. I thought you would get used to it by now.” Gwen sighed, giving you the same response every time you ranted about Miguel. “It’s not like you don’t know the big guy,” Hobie said nonchalantly, having long gotten used to your rants about Miguel. “You hate him, we get it.” Pavitr groaned, complaining for the umpteenth time about how you always seemed to be talking about Miguel. Gwen chuckled, “If you didn’t point out every single flaw of his so heartlessly every time you rant about him, I would think you have a crush on Miguel or something.” Gwen said. “Hell no. I’m not fucking blind.” you defended, offended she would even think this way. “You gotta admit, big boss is quite the looker, too bad he’s a prick.” Hobie pointed out. “Speak of the devil,” Pavitr warned, straightening up as he stared at Miguel who was walking to your table’s direction.
You merely glared in his direction. Gwen was right, you should be used to him by now. He shouldn’t be getting under your skin so easily. So why can’t you just ignore him? Why does your mind always drift to him when you’re alone, why do you realise when he was due for a haircut? How his hair curls at the end when he lets his hair grow, how he reaches 10 minutes early to any appointment, and how he would get his coffee at exactly 9am in the morning. You shook your head, riding yourself off those thoughts. There was no way you actually had some sort of attraction to him right? Your mind drifted to the fight you had with him 5 days ago, his words still causing a dull ache in your heart. The both of you always fought but you were sure Miguel was going to kick you off the team until he called your friends the next day and gave you a mission through them while also completely disregarding your presence if he saw you around after.
===================
“Mind your own business!” Miguel exclaimed, you flinched at his harsh tone. “I was just-” “Who said you could touch my property?” Anger was practically the only emotion in his voice as he pushed you to the side. “Lyla told me you were having some troubles, that your screens had some kind of issue-” You gritted out, closing your eyes to calm yourself too. You only had good intentions to fix the issues he was fixing and now you were being accused of invading his privacy. You couldn't even remember any of the files that appeared on the screen while you were fixing his terrible code. Too focused on solving the technical errors to be poking your nose into his business. “I don’t need your help,” He seethed. “She was going to help you, Miguel. You have been complaining about it and even I can’t help you, you very well know she’s the only one equipped with the knowledge to fix this.” Lyla defended you. The fury in Miguel’s eyes scared you as well, “You need to mind your own business as well.” He snarled to Lyla before turning to you, switching off the orange screens completely. “I would rather let everything burn to hell than trust you to fix anything. You’re a fucking mess if you didn’t realize. ” Miguel spat.
It was your last straw. You had more self-respect than let anyone speak to you like that. “Kick me off, fucking kick me off already. You hate me anyways, right? So why do you bother keeping me around?”
“Get out!” Miguel bellowed and you didn’t need him to repeat himself. You took off the watch on your wrist and threw it to the floor, letting it break into pieces. In that moment, his words hurt you more than glitching ever would.
============
Peter found you at a bar in your universe that day. You downed another glass of whiskey at the sight of Peter, you were in too bad of a mood to talk to anyone now and you know you would regret it if you lashed out at him.
Peter didn’t say anything, simply sitting beside you and staring as you downed one glass after another.
Peter ordered a drink, taking sips of his drink as he decided on the best approach to talk to you. Your anger was practically radiating off you, making everyone else stir clear of you.
“He’s all bark no bite.” Peter started. You scoffed lightly, letting the silence fall between the both of you. You turned to peter, feeling bad for putting him in an uncomfortable situation. “You heard already huh.” Peter simply shrugged, “Word travels fast. Practically the whole society knows.” You downed another glass at that, you wondered how much the story had changed as it was passed from one person to another. It was probably a field day at headquarters.
“There is barely anyone at headquarters, Miguel has been bringing hell to anyone he even makes eye contact with,” Peter answered as though he could read your thoughts. You had to bite back your words, to tell Peter that you really couldn’t care less about Miguel now nor did you need the company. Silence fell between the both of you, Peter lightly bobs his head to the music that was playing in the bar to relieve the tension that was building up. He was never one for tense situations. “You know, you’re not really that different from Miguel.” Peter immediately put his hands up in defense when you practically growled at his comment. “Well, it’s just that both of you would rather die than talk about your emotions. Thankfully, I managed to crack Miguel so I think I can do it for you too.” Peter confidently stated. You remained silent, swirling the whiskey in your hand. You didn’t trust yourself to not lash out at Peter, especially when he’s practically comparing you to Miguel. The man you hated in all of the multiverse
“Hm, silence. Miguel screamed at me when we reached this point.” Peter observed, laughing nervously at the memory of his talk with Miguel. “I guess I’ll just go on first then.” Peter wrung his hands nervously. “I’m sure Miguel didn’t mean anything. You just hit a sore spot.” You scoffed again, “What? By trying to fix his stupid system?”
Peter took another swig, he definitely needed the alcohol. “Do you not know about what is on those screens? One that probably popped up while you were fixing it.” “Contrary to popular belief, I wasn’t snooping on him. I was focused on the system itself.” You defended. Peter cringed ever so slightly at your response. “There is this girl on the screen, the one with a happier, better-looking Miguel.” Peter took another swig, this really wasn’t his story to tell. You pursed your lips, you did remember seeing the footage that Peter mentioned. You had to force yourself to look away, that you were invading his privacy.
“That’s his daughter.” Peter finished, trying to gauge your reaction. You simply preserved a blank look and Peter groaned slightly, he detested how stubborn you were. “Miguel found a universe where he had a family and was happy, but him in that universe had an accident so he replaced himself. Some butterfly effect happened and the whole universe collapsed on itself and he lost everything.” Peter explained. You finished your drink, everyone has lost someone. You understood why it was a sore spot but it doesn’t justify being a total asshole.
“Miguel didn’t mean anything he said to you. It was just- tough.” Peter finished. “I didn’t even do shit Peter, just decided to fix his system and he accused me of invading his fucking privacy. It’s not like he’s the only one who lost someone. We all did.” Peter shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. “He just fucking hates my guts and I don’t know why? He literally told most people about my past when he explains about anomalies so why is he so mad when I know about it?”
“Because you have the same name and face as his wife, the woman who he falls for in every universe.” Your jaw dropped at the information. You couldn’t ever fathom the thought of you and Miguel even being in love. The anger in you simmered ever so slightly. It would explain how his features softened when he sees you sometimes, the vulnerable look in his eyes when he stares at you for too long. A stranger with memories, that is what you are to Miguel. Miguel tries his best to treat you like others. It was exceptionally tough when you shared the same name and face as the woman he had spent his happiest moments with. “He never told me,” you told Peter. Peter shook his head, “No one was allowed to tell you. Not like many people knew anyways. He didn’t want to stir up any unnecessary trouble. You know how he is, he doesn’t like it when people try to share his burdens.” You pursed your lips, cursing out your alcohol tolerance. It was times like this you wished you could just forget everything. “It doesn’t matter. Miguel probably wants me out of his life.” Peter threw his hands up frustratedly. “If he wants you out he wouldn’t send me here to tell you about everything.” Peter admitted. Peter was worried when he heard the news of you and Miguel having a fight which is what brought him to talk to Miguel. Peter wouldn’t be able to find you by himself, only Miguel could. You closed your eyes, you had enough of everyone. You were so exhausted, everything has been so draining.
“Just leave me alone alright?” You said, stumbling out of your seat slightly before leaving the bar and Peter behind.
======================================
“The anomaly was caught. We ensured there were no loose ends. Everything should be fine.” You reported to Miguel. Your hands were behind your back, there was a blank look on your face. Miguel bit his lip slightly at your cold demeanor toward him. He used to complain about you taking things too lightly. When you would stroll into his office with a grin, confidently telling him all the details of the mission even if it was insignificant. Now, you told him the bare minimum with a professional tone and stand.
Miguel used to complain and bluntly tell you that he didn't care for some of the details you told him after. Details like you and Gwen dropped by a Mcdonald's to grab some fries or that you also managed to finish a recent show. Now he wishes you would tell him, instead of you acting like this., all quiet and serious.
Miguel took a deep breath, staring at you as the platform descended. He looked away slightly, knowing things were still tense between the two of you. “Sorry about that the other day. I was not in the right place.” He apologised, forcing himself to meet your eye. Your expression was still blank, “It’s fine.” You brushed it off like you hadn’t been thinking about it ever since. “If that’s everything, I’ll take my leave now.” You told him, bowing slightly as you turned. Miguel flinched at the tone. “Wait.” He wanted to stop you from leaving. Then his head turned to the orange screens behind him that glitched every so often. “Would you-” Miguel hesitated, thinking if this was the best move.”
“I- can you help me fix the screens?” Your eyebrows raised in surprise. “I promise I won’t lash out at you.” Miguel weakly joked. You simply nodded, stepping up onto his platform. Miguel stared at you, you were so unlike yourself. There were no teasing comments, no laughter, not even a hint of a smile. You stood in front of his screens, diligently and skillfully opening and typing away a new code. Miguel shifted and fidgeted behind you, he was wrecking his mind for a conversation topic. You were the one who usually initiated or continued the conversations. His mind replaying all the conversations he had with you. A smile tugged on his lips, music was your common ground with him. He remembered how your eyes twinkled when you talked about your favorite songs.
“I recently got into classical music.” Miguel shared. Miguel was half-convinced that he wouldn’t get a reply when you let his words hang in the air while you focused on the task at hand. “Oh? Mahler?’ You finally replied. His eyes widened. “How did you know?” He was greeted with silence again and only then did he appreciate how quick your responses used to be. “I just want to know, because you seemed really confident about it. Did I tell you?” Miguel filled the silence himself. “I just saw it.” You gestured to the screens. He nodded, letting the tense silence take over again. You were never so quiet, he never had to deal with this uncomfortable silence when he was with you.
“You changed.” Miguel blurted out. There was no response from you as you continued working on the screens. You didn’t know how to respond either. The news about you being an alternate version of his wife, it was rather overwhelming. You used to spite him and annoy him just for the fun of it, but after everything, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it anymore. His gaze made you self-conscious now, of what he thought of you, and nor did you want a repeat of what happened that day. You did a lot of thinking the past few days and you had to come to terms with the fact that you didn’t hate Miguel O’Hara. You couldn’t hate him. The thought of him hating you, it was terrifying.
“What?” You muttered, Miguel barely caught onto your response. He placed his hands on his hips, looking down. “Look, I’m really sorry for that day and I know I can’t take back anything but I really hope you don’t distance yourself from me because of that.” Miguel swallowed, it was publicly known that the both of you never seemed to get along but the thought of you becoming cold to him made him shiver to his core. “You’re overthinking things.” You stated plainly, forcing out a laugh. Miguel sighed, “You just seem, very different. Let’s not even talk about our interactions. You have just been more distant with everyone, you’re taking things way too seriously and well, you’re a lot more well organised now. The biggest shame was losing the constant smile, boosted many of their morale even in the most difficult of times.” you swallowed bitterly, debating internally if you should snap at Miguel right now while you stared at the screens before you. “I had to work on not being a mess right?” You answered, quoting his exact words. Miguel’s eyes flashed with a hint of pain and you knew it was a low blow. He had already apologised, you’re the one who keeps bringing it up. But those words haunted you even till now.
“You really changed huh?” Miguel continued. He didn’t expect you to use his words against him. When you know that he regrets it, it was a low move even for you. “It’s done.” You announced, ignoring his comment towards you. Your patience was thinning again. He merely glanced towards the screens before looking at you again. “You’re not the person I knew,” Miguel stated plainly. You turned your head to him.
“I’m not the woman you had in mind, Miguel! I’m not your fucking wife and I’m sorry you had to go through that.” You looked away, running your hands through your hair in distress. “I never was. I’m sorry I remind you of her but I’m not her.” You snapped at him. Walking out of his office.
Everything made sense now. Miguel would be annoyed and frustrated with you most times, but there were times that he acted differently towards you. The times when he had carried you to a more comfortable place when you had fallen asleep on your table, the jackets that he had given to you to keep you warm still hung in your closet. The late-night conversations where he was more vulnerable towards you and had conversations with you about your interests while you hung from the ceiling, claiming that it helped you stay awake while you sift through the paperwork with him. You found it weird how he could hate your guts one second but be even sweet to you when it was just the two of you. At one point, you even thought you had fallen for Miguel O’Hara.
You shook your head, ignoring Miguel behind you as you rid the thought of even entertaining a possibility with Miguel. He never treated you as you are, he never liked you for who you are.
You simply shared a face and name with the woman he was destined to fall for.
You chuckle at how foolish you were while you stepped on the watch that Peter had given to you as replacement for your old one.
“I fucking quit.” You announced to a surveillance camera in the hallway, knowing fully well that he is monitoring the camera for your whereabouts now.
Miguel angrily swept the files off his table, growling out in frustration. He buried his face in his hands, he never saw you as the woman who he had fallen for and had Gabriella with. Sure, there were a few times your identical looks made his heart pace with what could have been. However, Miguel had started spending more time with you and getting to know you as a person. In those times, he reckoned he enjoyed it too much.
There was no way he was falling for you right?
Was there a point even if he did? You had already left him.
Miguel O'Hara always messes up his own happiness. That seems more like his canon event than falling in love with you.
#miguel o'hara imagines#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara fanfiction#miguel o'hara#spiderman#spiderman 2099#spider man#spider-man#into the spider verse#spider verse#across the spiderverse#atsv miguel#spiderman atsv#miguel ohara#miguel x reader#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o’hara x you
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kinktober — day four
kink: body worship with changbin
warnings: smut - MINORS DNI. implied thick!reader (but can be read with any body type). mentions of body insecurity. afab!reader.
when changbin get home from work, he finds you wrapped in a big sweatshirt and a blanket, hood pulled all the way up and your entire body a shapeless lump on the couch. it’s one of those days - not especially bad, but the kind of day that left you not wanting to be perceived. if you could have become one with the couch, you would have.
living together is new - being together in general is new. you’ve been friends for years and years, but only took the plunge into a relationship recently, falling into each other in fast forward until you were moving in with him after just a few months. him coming home to you every day just felt so natural though, and with the frequency of how often one of you stayed the night at the others it just made sense.
“hi, beautiful,” he greets you as he flops next to you, bone-deep tiredness clear in the way he melts against your side. he makes your heart squeeze as he nuzzles his head into your chest, and it threatens to beat right out of your skin.
“‘m not,” you mumble out, unable to keep it in. you’re usually so careful about separating your insecurities from him, scared to show them to him even though you know he would be nothing but sweet to you about it.
“excuse me?” he says, sitting up so quick you’re surprised he didn’t get whiplash from it. he left you no time to regret your words as he frames your face with both of his hands and turns your head to face him. “say that again.”
“i just,” you try and look away but he nudges your head back towards his face again. “i don’t think i am. beautiful. i guess i’m not ugly but i’ve never felt like i was something special, you know?”
“no, i don’t.” he says with intense ferocity, finality on his tongue like he was begging you to try and argue with what he knew was truth. “i’ve always thought you were gorgeous, even before we were together.”
“i guess i just don’t see myself that way,” you sigh, wishing you simply hadn’t opened your mouth.
“every single part of you is beautiful, do you understand?” he rubs his thumbs against your cheekbones before sliding his hands down past your shoulders.
“these arms?” he squeezes your upper arms with both of his hands, using his thumb to caress the skin there. “i dream about them, the way you wrap them around me when you’re happy or excited, it’s my favorite place to be.”
“but yours are too-“
“this isn’t about me,” he cuts you off, sharply but not unkind. he moves to your breasts, caressing them more gently than he ever had before.
“these? do you even see how many people stare at you when we go out at night?” he asks, pinching a bit at your skin. “it makes me so jealous, makes me want to take you home and keep you all to myself always. no one should be able to appreciate you but me.”
his hands roam further down, slotting themselves over your hips and squeezing with his fingertips.
“see these? they’re what i use to hold you down when you’re on top of me. how else would i be able to get you in the exact position i want you, hmm?”
your breath picks up as his fingers ghost over the swell of your lower belly, and you have to resist the urge to curl up around yourself so that he doesn’t see you.
“this?” he leans down to pepper kisses against your burning skin, leaving invisible marks that you can feel as though they were tattoos. “this is perfection. i want to bury my face in your stomach and suffocate in it, this isn’t a flaw to be hidden. it’s not something that you need to get rid of, not something that you shouldn’t have. it’s part of you, and that means that it’s perfect.”
his words are washing over you like tidal waves, wiping out your thoughts and replacing them with his. it’s all complimented by the scorching touch of his hands on your skin, you can feel him everywhere, consuming your entire being.
“your thighs?” he continues, kneading at the skin around your quads. “they were made to be on a goddess, do you get it? i want to sink my teeth into them and never let go. i want to cover your thighs in bite marks until you can’t see your skin anymore, so they’re all mine.”
he grabs your ass with both hands, his long fingers covering a surprising amount of surface area as they dig into your muscle.
“and do not get me started on this ass. this belongs in museums, on display so everyone can see what perfection looks like and feel bad about themselves for not being this perfect.”
and it’s a bit silly that you start crying because of that, but you can’t contain your bubbling emotions anymore. salty tears leave your eyes and you move to cover your face, but he stops you before you can.
“i don’t love you despite these things,” he says, caressing your face with the gentlest touch, feather soft. “i love you because of them. i’m sorry that i’ve never told you like this how obsessed with you i am. i think you are the most exquisite person that has ever walked this earth. do you understand?”
“yes,” you breathe out, finally understanding. finally accepting what he was saying.
“good,” he lets a smile creep onto his face, cheeks filling out. “now, will you let me make my pretty girl feel good?”
you nod, taking in a gulping breath as he slowly undresses you, taking time to run his hands over your skin reverently. when he takes off your panties you’re surprised by how wet you are, the cold air hitting your pussy and making you shiver. he runs a finger through your folds, collecting the slick there and spreading it to your clit.
“this perfect pussy? how could i want anything else when this is all mine?” he circles around your clit one, two three times before sliding one finger into you, slow enough that it makes you shiver. he crooks his finger inside of you, massaging your walls languidly like he’s mapping out every single millimeter of you to memory. it’s almost more overwhelming than when he bends you over and takes you on the kitchen table, hurried and frantic, because at least then you didn’t have time to think. now, you have all the time in the world to focus on the way he feels inside you, the way his free hand is warm on your thigh where it’s squeezing, the way his own breath catches when you clench around him like he’s the one with a finger inside of him.
“i could keep my fingers inside of you all day, that’s how much i love it.” he slips another inside and you sigh at the stretch, your muscles tensing when he finds the spot inside of you that sends sparks running through your nervous system. he smiles at you, almost wickedly, before speeding up his movements, accentuating them by pressing his thumb to your clit. almost too fast, you feel your orgasm approaching, much slower than you’ve ever felt it. you can almost see it taking over your body, a golden light starting at your fingers and toes and spreading up your limbs to your core, slow inch by slow inch. you forget to breath, gulping in air when the light finally snaps into place, squeezing your legs around his hand as you ride it out for what feels like straight minutes.
you come back to yourself in his arms, his fingers stroking the wispy strands of hair across your forehead out of your eyes. he’s looking at you with the fondest smile you’ve ever seen, like he can’t believe that he gets to hold you in his arms like this.
“don’t hide these things from me anymore, okay? i can’t make you feel better if i don’t know that you’re feeling bad in the first place.”
kinktober masterlist
#stray kids smut#skz smut#stray kids imagines#stray kids drabbles#changbin smut#seo changbin smut#changbin imagines#changbin x you#kinktober 2023#changbin x y/n#stray kids x reader
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