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marsnovaa · 6 months

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Can you make a piece doing JJK boys being clingy with their girlfriends/partners (not sure which you write for!) and if you don’t want to do all the JJK boys maybe Choso or Inumaki? Thank you :))

Notes: Yes! I do not write for Yuta (and maybe a few others I'm forgetting), but I had a lot of fun writing this! This is my first time writing for a few of these characters so i apologize if they are out of character or not as good as the others ! also, i love the art you did of choso with his hair down a bit ago hehe ! (Requests are open)

Warnings: A lot of waist grabbing, slightly suggestive with Toji

Features: Gojo, Geto, Toji, Nanami, Choso, Yuji, Megumi, and Toge

JJK boys being clingy with you ₊˚⊹♡

Gojo

He's unafraid of displaying his clinginess, making it impossible to escape his touch in public or his incessant text messages. He always keeps a firm grip on your hand and has his arm securely around you. He reminded you of a puppy. He finds it difficult to communicate his emotions, particularly when he needs reassurance. However, as time goes by, you have become familiar with his gestures and discovered that his favorite way to seek comfort is by resting his head on your lap.

You find yourself now reclining on the couch, seeking solace after a heated argument. It was an unnecessary clash, and you wisely decided to distance yourself before uttering regrettable words. Suddenly, you hear the faint sound of Satoru's door creaking open, causing your gaze to fixate on the hallway, anticipating his emergence.

He had the appearance of a dog caught in the act, being confronted by their owner for their misbehavior.

Nervously, he made his way to the couch, anxiously settling into his seat. The fear of provoking a negative reaction from you lingered, making it difficult for him to relax.

While you were engrossed in your movie, you paid no attention to his gradual approach. This was a recurring pattern after your disputes. He would hover nearby, edging closer little by little. It was his unique method of expressing remorse and attempting to reconcile with you. Though it irritated you, it undeniably proved effective, for it was impossible to remain angry with him forever.

"Come here," you said with a dramatic sigh, invitingly patting your lap.

His face filled with joy, and without hesitation, he rested his head on your lap. Gently, you caressed his hair, soothing his scalp with a delicate massage. Occasionally, your hand rested on the side of his face, your thumb moving in a slow, comforting motion, tracing his cheek.

Geto

Suguru has a subtle way of showing his affection, preferring to express his clinginess in private. However, even in public, he can't help but steal glances at you or lightly brush his hand against yours as he passes by. Although he's not much of a texter, Suguru is fond of calling instead. So, when you're out and your phone unexpectedly rings, you can't help but be startled, but deep down, you already know it's him eagerly calling to inquire about your whereabouts and when you'll be returning.

A few minutes ago, he sent you a text instructing you to come to his room. You gently opened the door and stole a glance inside, catching sight of your partner in a state of complete relaxation, comfortably dressed in casual attire.

Timidly, you entered the room, gently closing the door behind you. With cautious steps, you approached his bed and slipped in beside him. He was dressed in a casual combination of a loose white shirt and black sweatpants. A cozy blanket covered him, and he promptly enveloped you in its warmth as soon as you lay down beside him.

His arm instinctively wrapped around your waist, drawing you closer to him. He planted tender kisses on your forehead and the top of your head, serenading you with sweet words. Your cheeks blushed, and you sought solace by burying your face in his embrace.

"Why are you so nervous? We've been together for months, yet you still seem so bashful around me, my love," he whispered gently, as his finger delicately brushed against your chin, tilting it upwards to meet his gaze.

"I'm not sure," you replied, offering a shy smile.

Your dopey smile was captivating to him. He adored seeing that smile, and it compelled him to draw nearer, pressing his lips against yours in a passionate kiss that made you feel as though you were melting away.

Toji

You've never encountered anyone as possessive as him. He shoots fierce glances at anyone who dares to cast a glance your way, and he constantly craves your affection, demanding kisses on a regular basis. Your neck is almost always adorned with his passionate marks, and no matter how many times you protest, he effortlessly silences you with a tender kiss.

"I'm home!" you exclaimed, shutting the door behind you. Initially, Toji was just renting a room in your house, but after you two became a couple, he became a permanent member of the household and no longer pays rent. As a result, you find yourself working more than ever before.

Toji loomed in the entrance, arms folded across his chest, his gaze drifting up and down your silhouette. The hunger in his eyes was a constant presence, causing you to squirm uneasily and your face to redden.

"Hey, have you eaten yet?" you asked softly as you brushed past him and made your way into the living room, which was adjacent to the kitchen.

"I did," he replied, firmly grasping your waist with his large hands.

You despised it when he behaved in such a way, yet you found yourself unable to break free from his hold. He forcefully drew you towards him until your back was tightly pressed against his figure. Without delay, he began to passionately kiss your neck. With each delicate touch of his lips against your flesh, an irresistible sensation of ticklishness arose, causing you to instinctively wriggle and yearn to distance yourself from him.

"Why are you always trying to distance yourself from me, baby?" he murmured softly into your ear.

"Toji, I've just arrived home after a long day of work, and the moment I step in the door, you're already all over me," you complained, gently removing his hands from you.

"I can't resist, you're absolutely stunning," he said with a smirk, trailing along as you settled on the couch.

Your moment of relaxation was abruptly interrupted as he forcefully pulled you onto his lap. You let out a groan of annoyance, reflexively wrapping your hands around his neck. However, he swiftly silenced you by passionately kissing you. At that moment, you realized that you couldn't complain any longer, as deep down, you relished in his neediness and his constant desire for your attention. Despite your fatigue, you couldn't help but feel elated that Toji truly wanted you and treated you with love and care.

His lips left a trail of passionate kisses down your neck, and your fingers became intertwined in the strands of his hair.

Choso

Choso is similar to a toddler that constantly follows you, tightly holding onto a piece of fabric from your clothes. He is tender and endearing, but also fears that his clinginess might bother you, causing him to frequently withdraw.

That only induces worry, and when you attempt to address the issue with him, his face turns as crimson as a ripe tomato, while he stumbles over his words and fabricates feeble excuses.

You found yourself in a quaint clothing store, browsing for new tops to replace the ones that suffered damage during your daring missions. Among the selection, you carefully lifted a vibrant, long-sleeved red shirt, unsure yet intrigued about whether it would suit your taste.

Choso was standing right behind you, his hand tightly clutching your shirt as he observed other shoppers. He was pleasantly surprised when you swiftly spun around to meet his gaze, a faint smile adorning your lips.

"What are your thoughts on this? Personally, I find it slightly too snug for my taste..." you lifted the top, examining it, before pressing it against your body.

"It's absolutely beautiful. You would look absolutely breathtaking wearing it," he boldly responded, shamelessly admiring you while he had the opportunity.

Blushing, you quickly tossed the top into your small basket and eagerly took hold of his hand, guiding him towards the checkout counter.

Nanami

At first, he didn't strike you as the clingy type. However, you were taken aback when he tiredly entered the house, removed his shoes, loosened his tie, and half-unbuttoned his shirt before collapsing on the couch next to you. His arm instinctively wrapped around your neck, drawing you close to him. Surprisingly, this became his routine every time he arrived home, and he would frequently message you during the day to ensure your well-being.

As he assured you he would be home soon, you decided to take charge of dinner preparations. Your utmost concern was to provide him with nourishing meals, especially after his demanding missions.

As you hear the door open and then close, your heart quickens in anticipation. Nanami enters the kitchen, his powerful arms wrapping around your waist, enveloping you in his embrace.

"Welcome home," you cheerfully greeted, spinning around and embracing him with your arms wrapped around his neck.

“Dinner smells good. How was your day?” he asked, his touch light but possessive as he held onto your waist.

"It was great! Tiring, but certainly nothing I couldn't handle. And how about you?" you said, flashing him a sweet smile.

"Same as always," he murmured, leaning down to gently kiss your nose. "Shall we eat?"

With a nod, you reach for two plates. Artfully arranging the food on each plate, you then make your way to the living room where Nanami awaits. Handing him his plate, you leisurely settle on the other end of the couch, playfully kicking your feet up and gently placing your legs across his lap.

You sat together in silence, savoring each other's company, a familiar ritual between you both.

Nanami was the first to finish his meal. He leaned forward, gently placing his empty plate on the small coffee table in front of the couch. Suddenly, you were surprised when you felt his large hands begin to massage your tired feet, a rare gesture from him. Without a word of complaint, you carried on enjoying your food. He was a true gentleman, always putting your happiness and well-being before his own.

After you had finished your meal and tidied up the kitchen, Nanami gently took your hand, guiding you towards the bedroom. There, he warmly embraced you as you two laid down, allowing your head to rest upon his chest, as you listened to the rhythmic beat of his heart. With his thumb, he tenderly traced circles upon your back, soothing you until both of you peacefully drifted into slumber.

Yuji

He is incredibly affectionate and caring, but he tends to be overly attached. His greatest concern is not being by your side if something were to happen to you. He consistently stays by your side, whether it is for a leisurely stroll, a shopping trip, or an important errand.

Sometimes he may be unable to accompany you, no matter how much he desires to. However, he reaches out to you, timidly requesting that you remain on the call until your return, providing him reassurance that everything is alright.

"Yuji, you do realize that I can simply text you, right?" you playfully chuckled over the phone as you disembarked from the train.

"I know, but if you don't reply to my texts, I'm left wondering what might have happened!" he complained from the other side.

You let out a contented sigh and shook your head playfully, all while sporting a contagious smile. To top it off, you were cozying up in one of his cherished hoodies. Your collection of his hoodies was a testament to their irresistibly soft and snug nature - an indulgence you simply couldn't resist.

"Do you know how incredibly adorable you are?" you asked, strolling along a bustling sidewalk towards your destination.

“I’m glad you think so. I love you y/n.” he said in a hushed tone, conscious of his surroundings and not wanting them to eavesdrop on this intimate moment.

"I love you too," you replied, giggling. You could imagine the slight blush he must have had, which made you giggle even more.

Megumi

Megumi may not be the touchy-feely type or a master of verbal expressions, but his constant stream of text messages makes up for it. Your phone is always abuzz with his messages, making sure you're always connected.

As you felt a vibration coming from your pocket, you instinctively retrieved your phone to see the latest message from Megumi.

M <3:

Where are you? I miss you.

You:

Im just at the store megs. Ill be back soon :)

M <;3:

Hurry up, the beds getting cold without you.

You couldn't help but let out a chuckle as you slid your phone back into your pocket. Afterward, you swiftly grabbed a handful of snacks from the shelf before making your way to the checkout counter. It's funny how Megumi reveals his need for attention only when you two are alone, and it seems like a significant portion of your time together is spent with him dozing off on your lap.

As soon as you finished paying for the snacks, you rushed back to his room. As you entered, his arms immediately wrapped around your neck, pulling you into a warm and affectionate embrace.

"Hey, Megumi. Hold on a sec, I need to take off my shoes." You chuckled, unable to reciprocate his embrace because of the bags you were holding.

Murmuring something softly, he backed away, allowing you the opportunity to remove your shoes. You carefully set the bags of snacks on his desk, and as soon as they were no longer in your grasp, he eagerly guided you towards his bed. With a playful roll of your eyes, you climbed into the bed, and settled in comfortably while he positioned himself on top of you.

With his head nestled on your chest, he closed his eyes tenderly. You sensed his entire body surrendering to relaxation, as his breath gently steadied, while your fingers lovingly became entwined in his soft hair.

Toge

You adore him with all your heart, but unfortunately, you cannot spare hours in his room, indulging in YouTube together. Due to his cursed speech, it makes it hard to communicate between the two of you, but the more time you spent with him, you began to understand when he spoke in rice ball ingredients. He demonstrates his attachment by sending you text messages at completely unpredictable times, requesting your presence in his dorm.

The very first time he did this, you truly relished the moments spent together, laughing at a few videos and snuggling on his bed.

You had just arrived back from a long mission when you received his message. Despite being tempted to decline, you couldn't resist. You found yourself drawn to his room, where darkness surrounded you, except for the soft radiance of a lamp and the flickering glow of the TV. He was seated on the bed, his relaxed shirt and comfortable pants giving him a casual appearance. His hair was disheveled, with a few strands sticking out, adding to his charm.

You greeted him in a tired manner, shuffling your feet as you approached and settled down on his bed. As you watched TV, he leaned his shoulder against yours, a comforting gesture that you had grown accustomed to. He always sought closeness with you, whether it was through your thighs touching, fingers gently brushing, or any other intimate connection. Your eyelids were heavy, and it was a challenge to concentrate on the video he turned on. Eventually, you kicked off your shoes and made yourself at ease in his comfortable bed. However, the moment your head touched the pillow, you succumbed to the peaceful depths of slumber.

It wasn't until after about 20 minutes that Toge realized you had fallen asleep. Swiftly, he turned off the television and tenderly covered you with a warm blanket, gently brushing away a few stray strands from your face. He planted a soft kiss on your cheek before snuggling up next to you, also succumbing to a peaceful nap.

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ghouljams · 2 months

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I can just imagine the first time König meets his darling goes a little like; he steps on one of her flowers and out of nowhere this woman appears and starts giving him the dressing down of his life for being "such a clumsy, unobservant oaf," but the whole time he's just starting at her with heart eyes.

She could also keep the name Bee, because she's buzzing about the flowers all day. Though, perhaps she's a bit more like a hornet with that fiery personality she has.

Yeah that's pretty much how it happens.

König has never cared much for plants, he walks through the garden with advisors in tow, grumbling and growling until he finally rounds on them to leave him the hell alone for two goddamn minutes. Christ he didn't become king so he could deal with all this mundanity, he became king because his father was weak and the kingdom was going to shit. Corruption was a hydra, each head he chopped off just sprouted three more. He needed people he could trust, not power hungry nobles that only sought to elevate their own status by joining his cabinet. He may have to look outside the kingdom for that.

König stops at the edge of a wide flower bed, well tended, but in his way. The garden is full of winding paths, ones meant to draw people in to the scenery and inspire admiration in whatever flora is blooming. As previously stated, König has never cared much for plants. He steps off the path and into the bed, not so carefully trampling over the blooms and delicate stems that live there. He's king, these are his gardens, he can destroy what he wishes. Actually it's sort of nice to destroy something after a long day of signing laws and reviewing tax nonsense. He steps more purposefully onto a rose bush, eyes wide and pleased at the way the thorns drag against his clothes and attempt to prick him. Good, he hopes they draw a little blood for the trouble it's causing to walk through them. He even hears them yelp.

Oh no, that was a human. He stops grinding his boot into the woody stems and glances back at you. You look horrified. You look mad. Oh you look mad. He feels the emotion sink down his spin like warm honey, your eyes are furious as you pick your way through the trampled flowers. Actually you stop and gasp in horror at one of the bushes he'd destroyed crouching to fret over the stems and cup the delicate petals. König takes that as his sign to continue his walk. He doesn't expect you to stand in front of him or push your hands against his chest to yell at him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" You ask him, fury edging your voice, his eyes dart between yours enjoying the fire in them, "Do you have any idea the work I've had to put in to make the hydrangeas that color? The soil has to be exactly right or they won't be red enough and look at what you're doing to my roses!" You push at him again, he tips his head to properly stare down at you.

"Move." He commands, and you push him again. Something shakes in his eyes, makes the world feel like it's trembling on the edge of insanity.

"You are supposed to stay on the path," You insist, "You move!"

"I am your king," König threatens, "Move or I will move you."

It hardly seems to make you do more than glare. He'd think you were stupid if he hadn't decided you were crazy. You point at the path he's made for himself. "This is my garden, and my flowers, and you-" You jab a finger against his chest, "-are going to apologize for ruining it."

König grabs your wrist and drags you, kicking, the rest of the way across the flower bed. You do your best, but he's sure to make you trample some of your precious flowers same as him. He tosses you onto the path and, though you stumble, you manage to keep yourself upright, glaring as he steps over the stone edging and back onto the path. You clench your hands into fists, and he hopes maybe you'll cry. He likes when that happens, it's fun seeing the waterworks. Instead you slap him, and all his anger and annoyance fall into the pit of his stomach as the chainmail mask stings both his cheek and your hand.

You seem to realize you've just struck the king almost as quickly as König realizes it. Though your reaction and his are miles apart. You freeze and he, decidedly doesn't. König grabs your arms and squeezes you, leaning in close to look you in the eye. You can smell the metal of his mask, see the almost reddish color of his irises. The mad dog that killed his father rather than wait for a throne that was already his. He's going to kill me, you think to yourself, watching the heave of his shoulders as he breathes.

"Do it again," He squeezes you tighter and your fear flips to confusion, "mein Herz, mein liebe, do it again Liebling."

Who are you to deny an order from your king?

#könig x reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #cod x reader #x reader #x oc #cod x oc #medieval au #oc: liebling #König x oc #konig mw2 #they're freaks but that's fine #König finds out about Liebling's poison garden and asks to marry her #she turns him down immediately #I think König is a masochist #but in the way the hayao miyazaki is a masochist #he just assumes everyone enjoys pain like he does lol

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thecreelhouse · 3 months

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pin back in the grenade

Paring: Steve Harrington x AFAB reader

Word count: 6k+

CW/tags: best friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst, post s4, mentions of wounds/blood/etc., fluff, PiV unprotected sex, oral sex (m receiving), somno if you squint (tbh not really but just to be safe gonna add that one), light dirty talk. title is from ‘liar’ by paramore. MDNI

request from this post (that was supposed to be a blurb and I am so sorry): 🩹 tending to each other's wounds, 🍯 friends to lovers, 🔥 slow burn, 🛏 only one bed

also combining this with a request I got back after s4 part 2 dropped (to that anon, I am REALLY sorry lmao) for post s4 comfort sex w/ Steve. anyway, hope y’all enjoy <3

“Do you get a new freckle every day?”

Steve’s brows crinkle together while he laughs wearily. “Huh?”

You’re cleaning the wound around his neck and can’t help noticing just how many freckles and moles he has across his body. Or, from what you can see, at least. He has his shirt off while you’re tending to his injuries from the Upside Down and Vecna’s destruction across Hawkins.

Over the last several years, Steve’s normally vacant house became a safe haven for disasters like these, also a place where the kids could be together to just hang out on the quiet, normal days. He never said it, but he loved hearing the kids laughing and yelling, sometimes having movie nights, or playing DnD; it was a welcomed sound compared to the painful quiet he had grown used to for the majority of his life.

Tonight, no inside jokes and endearing name calling echoed throughout the house. No fighting over which movie to play first, or what kind of pizza to order, or the shouting and cheering that usually came along with playing their favorite game. If anything, there were somber conversations, softly echoing through the house, with words and emotions no kid should have to be worried about. Sometimes there was crying, or complete silence, where the only thing Steve could hear was the faint, yet now permanent ringing in his ears he had gained over the last several years. Any which way a sound like these carried through the house, it broke his heart.

So, you try distracting him as the two of you clean one another’s wounds for yet another night. You keep things light where possible, but the both of you know it’s only a bandaid over a permanent emotional scar that is torn open time and time again. The physical wounds always heal, but the heartbreak you’ve all grown accustomed to is one that weighs so heavy on everyone’s hearts, and you can’t imagine it vanishing anytime soon.

“Yeah, I swear, it’s like you’re magically turning into a connect the dots picture, or something.” Steve smiles, laughing softly through his nose at your corny attempt to keep his mind off of the trauma.

“You think so? Maybe one of these days you should come up with a drawing out of ‘em.” Steve’s trying his hardest to keep things lighthearted, too, but sometimes it’s just easier to feel the pain instead of forcing any positivity.

“Jesus, this is gnarly.” You murmur, still amazed by the damage Steve took this time around as you’re softly swiping some kind of medicated ointment along the open wound. He hisses from the dull sting, but the substance begins to numb the ache and inflammation, bringing some sort of relief, if any at all. “Do you feel like a greasy slug when you use this stuff? Because I definitely feel like a greasy slug when I use it.”

Neither of you had figured out the best way to dress the wound around his neck, so Steve had been changing clean t-shirts like bandages every few hours. The others, at least, were relatively easy to clean and dress, but they seemed to be deeper; Steve probably needed stitches on some, but he refused to go to the hospital, insisting other people in town had worse injuries, and needed the medical attention more.

“I mean, I feel slimy… but not like a slug— Jesus, how much sleep did you get last night?” At first, you think he’s asking because of your silly remark, but then he’s cupping the side of your face, thumb gently rubbing along your cheekbone, getting a better look at the dark circles draped under your eyes. You push aside the butterflies in your stomach from his touch as you reach for his clean shirt, moving his arms out in front of you to roll the fabric down and over his arms and head. For a moment, you miss his touch, but it’s back on your face after he adjusts his shirt.

“Seriously, are you sleeping at all?” He asks softly, eyes filled with worry. Leave it to Steve to worry about everyone else before himself.

You shrug as you look away, not wanting to make a big fuss. “Last night was just rough up here,” You poke at your temple. “That’s all. I’m sure I’ll be able to sleep easily tonight with how tired I am.”

“Where’d you sleep last night?” He asks, knowing decent spots to sleep were limited now that the all of the kids were reunited again. Everyone, except Max who was at the hospital, and Lucas, who refused to leave her side. Still, there were only so many places to rest for the entire group, even in a roomy house like Steve’s.

“Um… well, some of the kids had the pullout couch, one took a recliner, Robin has the guest room, and Jonathan and Nancy have your parents’ room… so I slept on the floor in the living room.” You shrug, but you know that contributed to the lack of sleep, and extra aches in your back. How you ever easily slept on the floor as a kid during sleepovers, you’ll never understand.

Steve looks bothered by this, letting go of your face as you move to the faucet to wash your hands. “What? Why didn’t you say something? You could’ve had my bed.”

You scoff a laugh out, “Steve, you need a real bed after everything you’ve been through. I can handle the floor like a big kid.”

“Okay, well, tonight you can sleep in my bed. I’ll take the floor, I don’t mind. Or I can sleep downstairs somewhere if you want sp—”

You shake your head wildly. “Don’t- I don’t wanna be alone again.” You maneuver around Steve as he slides off the counter, and you take his spot to let him tend to your wounds next. Finally, you confess, “I fell asleep once, and it was just one giant nightmare. I stayed up after that. Didn’t want to see that shit again.”

Steve washes his hands, lips pursed and brows furrowed as he keeps quiet for a moment, thinking. The two of you always trusted one another, always came to one another whenever you needed, so why the hell were you isolating yourself now?

“Next time, tell me. Wake me up. I don’t care.” Steve’s tone is firm, but he’s not upset with you. Just upset that you’re retreating into yourself when he just wants to help.

He starts peeling off the butterfly bandages around the slit skimming vertically down your eye. It begins just above your eyebrow, running down to your brow bone, pausing across your eye before continuing just under your lash line, finishing off past your cheekbone. Instinctually, your eye begins to squint closed, but the action tugs at your skin, stinging along the edge of your wound.

“Steve, you haven’t had a good night’s sleep since high school. Why would I wake you up when you need the rest?” He starts cleaning the wound, sighing to pause himself, think carefully about what he wants to say next. You keep going. “I actually did come in last night, but you were sound asleep. I didn’t have the heart to wake you up, not when you need the rest.”

“Close your eye for a second.” You do, appearing as if you’re failing an attempt at winking. Steve’s gently patting the cut with some sort of medical disinfectant on a cotton ball, heart aching little by little as you whimper in pain. You try keeping quiet, knowing your wounds are nothing compared to his. “You can cry you know. Or curse. Or yell. Or whatever. Stop trying to hide it.”

“Mine are like… paper cuts compared to yours.” He pats the wound dry with a new piece of cotton, sighing again. “What?”

“You don’t have to hide your pain from me. I’m not sure if you’re worried its a burden to anyone, or whatever, but you never hid from me before. What happened?” Steve begins to apply clean butterfly bandages along the deep slit in your skin. Every now and then, his eyes flicker to your lips, and you have to remind yourself your other face wound is a split in your lip. “Gotta get that next.”

“I can do it.”

“Nope, if you’re gonna nurse all of my wounds, it’s only fair if I do that for you in return.”

“Steve, you don’t have to—”

“No, but I want to. You’re my best friend, and you’ve been patching up my wounds since we were reckless little shits on the playground. You care about me, let me care about you.” His thumb gently presses on the untouched side of your bottom lip, holding it steady so he can begin fixing that one up, too. You’re too aware of how the pad of his thumb feels against your lip, wondering what it’d be like to wrap your lips around it and take him into your mouth.

“See, this is why I gotta hold your lip, you’re so twitchy.” Steve teases, unaware of why your bottom lip trembles every now and then when he’s so close. Is he really that clueless? “After this, you’re sleeping in my bed. I’ll carry you and lock you in my room if it means you’re gonna sleep like a normal person tonight.”

Your skin prickles and hair stands on end at his words. He really has no idea what he does to you with silly comments like these.

“Okay, but like…. What if I have to pee in the middle of the night?”

Steve stops his movements, snorting as his eyes close while a smile graces his features. With a shrug, he simply answers, “Hold it.”

Your jaw drops, feigning offense. “That’s fucked up, Steven.”

“So is sleeping on the floor instead of a bed.”

“You need it more than me!”

“Will you shut up for like, ten seconds? I’m almost done with this.” He’s stifling his own laughter, before murmuring, “Not gonna lie, you’re gonna look so badass when these are healed.”

“Pfffft. Maybe, but no one’s gonna be attracted to this mess.” You’re only joking, but Steve frowns as he applies petroleum jelly to your lips, generous on your cut.

“What? No fucking way. You’re still a babe.”

“Yeah, okay, Steve. No one’s gonna kiss me after this.” You chuckle, but notice the way his eyes flicker to your lips again, lingering longer than usual, then back to your eyes. His gaze is mesmerizing, with the warm brown color and hazel undertones, you can’t bring yourself to look away.

“I mean, I w—”

“Hey, St— oh,” Robin’s in the doorway of the bathroom, smirking at the two of you. “Am I interrupting something?” You lean back, fingers curled around the edge of the counter while Steve’s standing up straight, taking a step back from you as he clears his throat.

“N- no, we were just fixing each other up.” Steve nervously spits out, adding a shrug like everything’s cool.

“Right. Sure you were.” Robin teases. You want to shrink into yourself and completely disappear on the spot. “Where’s the box of movies you stole from work?”

You quirk a brow at her question, then look back at Steve. “You did what?”

“Shut it— I didn’t— I borrowed them. Robin, stop spreading rumors about me.”

“Fine. Sure. You “borrowed” them,” She flashes air quotes with her fingers, and you laugh. “Where are they? The kids are driving me up a wall trying to find them.”

Steve looks puzzled, chuckling. “They’re literally right next to the damn TV. Dustin should know that by now.”

She rolls her eyes, “Oh my god,” she turns out of the room yelling down the stairs, “Dustin! Get your shit together, man!” Before walking away, she glances at the two of you again with a smirk, “Have fun playing doctor, or whatever.”

“Leave.” Steve points out the door as Robin’s already leaving.

“Yeah, you showed her.” You tease Steve, trying to let go of what he was about to say before Robin barged in. You’re sliding off of the counter, and Steve playfully pushes your shoulders from behind, forcing you out of the bathroom.

“Alright, smart ass, let’s go.” He nudges you across the hall to his room, but you try turning away. Swiftly, he turns you back towards the door. “I wasn’t kidding, I’ll throw you over my shoulder if it means getting you to sleep in a bed.” He keeps a firm grip on your shoulders, pushing you through the doorway comically.

“Steve, if you wanted me in your bed so bad, all you have to do is ask nicely.” You’re not even trying to be coy or flirt, but it makes him choke on air. You spin around quickly, “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, I— wrong pipe.” He rasps out, clearing his throat. You don’t buy it, realizing your lazy joke was the reason for his coughing fit. Still, you let it go, not wanting to embarrass him. Steve continues clearing his throat as he pulls some old blankets out of his closet, and some pillows from his bed to lay out on the floor.

“Stay in your bed, I’ll take the floor, it’s fine.” You’re trying one more time, hoping he’ll stop being so stubborn and sleep in his fucking bed.

“Why are you so damn stubborn?” He wraps his arms around your waist and picks you up off the floor slightly, carrying you a few feet over before dropping you into his bed.

“I was just thinking the same about you.” You murmur, arms crossed as you look at the bed behind you. You realize how big it is, and have an idea. “If you won’t let me sleep on the floor, just sleep next to me. There’s plenty of room for the both of us anyway.”

“Sleep— sl— next to you? Same bed?” Steve’s voice cracks, pulling giggles out of you.

“Yes, Steve. Same bed. Unless you’ve got another one hiding around here.” You’re surprised you’re even suggesting this when the idea makes you incredibly nervous, but you need sleep, and Steve needs sleep, and you’re out of any other ideas. “If you want it to yourself though, I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“No- I- stop it, I’m gonna sleep on the floor, and that’s final.” His hands are on his hips, his signature, go-to move when he’s scolding the kids, but you’ve qualified for its appearance tonight, too. You rise to your knees on the bed, hitting eye level with him while you mirror him, hands falling to your hips in the same pose he has.

Steve isn’t having it, and before you can start verbally teasing him, he’s pushing you back into bed. You catch yourself on your hands as you stumble back onto the pillows. “I’m gonna superglue you to the bed.”

“Now you’re just being a child.”

“Me? You were just—” Steve sighs, hand dragging over his face. “Just go to sleep.”

“I don’t want to!” Your bottom lip is wobbling as your bloodshot eyes tear up ever so slightly; you’re doing all you can to hold them back, reminding yourself logically this isn’t that serious, but your emotions show otherwise.

If anyone else in any normal circumstances yelled this, they’d be deemed childish. You, on the other hand, you’re yelling this for perfectly valid reasons. And Steve knows what you’re feeling all too well. One more time, his heart breaks for you, watching the panic spread across your sleep deprived face.

“I don’t want to sleep, I don’t want to watch you get hurt over and over again in my nightmares. I’ve seen that too many times in real life, it’s sickening watching you get beaten to death time and time again… and I just— fuck. Steve, just take the fucking bed. Please? I don’t want to sleep, and you need it more than me, I really don’t mind the fl—”

Steve sits next to you and pulls you into a hug, holding you tightly against him. That’s when the floodgates finally break. You grip onto his shirt, balling the fabric into your fists as you begin crying on his shoulder.

“M’not going anywhere. Promise. You’re safe, I’m safe, everyone’s okay.” You know that’s not completely truthful; Max is hanging on by a thread in the hospital, and Eddie’s gone. Steve knows this, but right now his concern is getting you to finally fall asleep. “C’mon, you’ll feel better if you lay down.” You expect Steve to gently nudge you to the pillows alone, but he keeps his hold on you, carefully laying the both of you down. “You sure you’re okay with me staying in bed?” You nod against his shoulder, wrapping yourself around him as if that’ll anchor him here for good.

“Don’t go,” You’re mumbling into the fabric of his shirt, wanting to tug yourself closer to him, hang onto him like a clingy koala, but you’re trying to stay mindful of his injuries.

“Not going anywhere.” Steve whispers, kissing the top of your head before lingering for a moment. “Not going anywhere without you.” Neither of you untangle from one another, and Steve’s embrace is starting to calm you down to steadier breathing and shaky hiccups instead of heavy crying filled with anxiety and dread. With your body desperate for rest and the security you feel with Steve, it doesn’t take long for sleep to pull you in. Steve’s snoring softly shortly after you fall asleep.

———

At some point in the night, the two of you untangle, rolling to opposite sides of the bed. Steve’s woken up by movement, strange shifting in the bed next to him, and an airy whimper, just loud enough for him to hear. He rubs his eyes, turning over and sees your figure, facing away from him, remembering that the two of you fell asleep in his bed.

Steve’s not sure what time it is, nor does he really care, especially not after hearing another soft noise float from your parted lips. Trying to adjust to the dark surroundings, despite the weak glow from a night light plugged in, he stares at you, or what he can see, at least, worried you’re having another nightmare. He moves closer and leans over you, prepared to wake you up and give comfort if you need, but you don’t look scared. If anything, you look pained, frustrated; Steve’s eyes scan down your figure as you move again, noticing the way your hips roll forward against your own hand.

Holy shit.

Frozen, he can’t take his gaze off of you. He needs to. He should roll back over and force himself back to sleep, pretend he never heard anything, never saw you—

“Steve…” You murmur, languidly grinding against the heel of your palm, face buried into the pillow as you writhe under his imaginary touch. His mind starts spiraling.

That’s why you got nervous when he held your lip, or when you mentioned how with a lip scar inevitable in the near future, no one would want to kiss you, and the way the two of you couldn’t take your eyes off of one another. How you looked so mortified when Robin walked in, forcing the two of you apart. He begins to realize how this isn’t new, this has been going on for awhile, and he can’t believe how oblivious he’s been.

The signs have always been in your lingering touches, when you lock eyes with him and share knowing glances no one else would understand, the way you’ve always tried protecting him, or tending to his now routinely scheduled injuries whenever he’s caught up in anything related to the Upside Down. It’s always been in the way you’d give up your comfort for him, how you’d never complain if he woke you up from nightmares, calling at three in the morning.

How it’s an unspoken pact between the two of you to share your fries with one another, or when one falls asleep early during movie nights, the other thoughtfully covers them in a blanket, letting them rest. How you always keep extra medical supplies in your car just for Steve’s clumsy ass. How he’s sneaking you video tapes for free whenever you visit him at work. How you insist on calling him exactly at midnight on his birthday.

You’d drop everything in an instant for Steve, and he’d do the same for you without hesitation. Whenever he tries to put your needs first, you’re quick to point out that someone needs to care about him, too.

Steve can’t believe how clueless he’s been, and out of all the times he’s figuring this out, it’s now, while you’re having a wet dream about him. Because of fucking course it would hit him now.

While his thoughts ran in a million different directions at once, he wasn’t aware of how hard he became, hearing your cute little noises, and how he’s still pressed right against you from behind. Does he let you continue? Does he wake you up? If he does, what’s his excuse? Lie and say it was a nightmare? Or tell you the truth, risking ruining something before it could ever begin, embarrassing you on the spot?

Without warning, you turn over, still asleep as your arms slip around his torso loosely, as if you’re still trying to be careful with his wounds while knocked out. One of your legs slot between his, and Steve has to bite back a groan at the pressure against his bulge. As if that alone wasn’t threatening to make him fall apart, your hips begin moving lazily again against his leg, and he can feel your sticky heat on his skin through your sleep shorts. Steve’s about to lose his fucking mind.

“Stevie, wanna make y’feel good…” You’re still asleep as you murmur this. Steve knew you talked in your sleep, but never like this. He can’t take it anymore. One hand ends up on the hip facing away from the bed, while the other is drawn to your neck, curling to the back to hold you gently as his fingers slide up into your hair.

“Wanna make you feel good too, angel.” He’s guiding you slowly along his thigh, tensing up underneath you; he’s not sure how to wake you up without startling you, and he doesn’t want the building desire to end so soon.

In time with his thoughts, you begin to stir, eyes fluttering open. You blink a couple times, then Steve nudges against your core again, and you keen, throwing your head back into his hand already waiting for you.

“Oh- oh, fuck, oh my god…” You’re growing aware of the situation, realizing your dream is becoming reality so seamlessly. You’re embarrassed, you want to hide away and apologize, but Steve rubs himself against the leg you have pressed against him, releasing a throaty groan; the embarrassment falls away, fast. “St- Steve?”

“Yeah?” He’s trying not to pant this soon, trying not to sound so breathy and needy already.

“M’sorry, I- I didn’t realize that I—”

Steve shushes you softly, bringing your face closer to his as he leans in, noses touching while you’re both making the sweetest noises together. “I can stop, if you want. I- I shouldn’t just assume you want this, maybe it was a silly dream—”

“No, it wasn’t… I really want you, Steve.” Your hands test the waters, sliding up his body, but only over his shirt, before holding his face; your gaze locks with his, and despite the dim glow in the room, you can see the lust ridden look he’s giving you while nodding wordlessly to give his consent. You lean in to kiss him, lips touching ever so slightly; you freeze as self doubt sets in, but he senses it, and kisses you back fully, mindful of your split lip.

It’s slow, almost too slow for you and how wound up you are from the dream, but you do your best to stay patient. Steve’s hand on your hip sneaks under your shirt, just enough that the tips of his fingers brush against your skin, just beneath the hem. The hand cradling the back of your head moves to your jaw, fingers splaying out to get a better hold on you when his lips part against yours. You make some kind of small noise, a muffled yelp that slips into Steve’s mouth when his tongue slips into yours. Distracted by the kiss, your hips stopped rolling, so Steve begins guiding you along his thigh again.

A moan shudders out of you as you pull back to catch your breath. Steve can’t take his eyes off of you as your eyes flutter shut, head falling back as another sweet moan leaves your lips, losing yourself in the pleasure from such a simple action.

You’re not sure when, but your hands made it to Steve’s back, fists bunched up with the fabric of his shirt, not wanting to touch any part of him that might hurt, but needing to grab something.

“Does th- this happen a lot?” He manages to ask, and in his head, he’s rolling his eyes at himself, because he wanted that to sound so much sexier than it did. You’re in a whole different world, though, already blissed out when barely anything has happened yet.

“Mhm,” You open your eyes as you answer, the burning desire low in your body growing hotter as the two of you make eye contact again. “Can I- can we— take this stupid thing off.”

Steve laughs, realizing maybe sexy isn’t what either of you need right now; being best friends already, it only makes sense that the only time the two of you can’t form coherent thoughts laced with lust would be when you’re pressed up against one another for the first time.

Pulling his hands back, he gestures to his shirt in the goofiest way, like he’s Vanna fucking White, showing off a purchased vowel. “You can’t take this seriously, can you?” You’re not mad, in fact, you’re laughing with him, and something about the two of you nervously laughing makes you more comfortable being intimate with your best friend.

“I’m just filling in the blanks for you, angel.” He’s smirking, but he’s also trying to stifle more laughter, so it just comes out as a product of a snicker and a snort.

“Oh, that was real cute,” You tease, reaching for his waist. “Words, words are hard.” You’re grumbling, tugging at the bottom of his t-shirt, carefully pulling it over his head.

“Yeah, don’t hurt yourself thinking too hard.”

Whatever smart-ass retort you had ready to roll off your tongue disappears at the sight of Steve, now shirtless. It’s nothing new to you, you’ve seen him shirtless plenty of times before, but in the moment, you’re hyper aware of how different this is. There’s no going back, but if you were being honest, there was no going back once you moaned his name in your sleep.

“What?” Steve asks, laughter dying down as he watches you reach out to his torso, tracing his scars, both old and the ones just beginning to form.

“You’re so… pretty.”

Steve blushes, a rosy red shade blooms across his face, to the tips of his ears. “I— shut up.”

You scoff, “I’m being honest!” He tugs at the bottom of your shirt, waiting for your permission, but your hands hold his back, shaking your head. Shyly, you state the obvious, “I don’t have a bra on.” Of fucking course you don’t, you never sleep in bras. Even Steve knows that, forever impressed with how you could just unhook that damn thing with one hand so casually and slip out of it, pulling it out of your shirt without ever stripping. It’d take everything in him to hold his jaw from dropping, when you just wanted out of a ridiculously uncomfortable bra.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Steve reassures softly, only to follow it up with, “I don’t either.”

“Alright, that’s it, I’m going back to sleep,” You tease, beginning to roll back over, but Steve grabs you quickly to roll you on top of him instead.

“Like hell you are,” He’s tugging at your shirt again, looking up at you with those sweet doe eyes, filled with wonder and curiosity over what his best friend looks like under everything. “Don’t feel pressured to say yes. We can st—”

You’re pulling your shirt off with a determined speed, like ripping off a bandaid, throwing it on the floor. “I do not look good with these bruises.”

Steve sits up, all humor and admiration draining from his features as he takes in all of the severe bruising you have from a few days ago. “Wh… how— why didn’t you show me? Or tell me? Fuck, I probably made some of them worse—”

“Hey, Steve, it’s okay. Seriously. I’m okay. These are nothing compared to what you ended up with.”

He shakes his head, ghosting his fingers over some of the worst bruises, blooming in the darkest shades of purple and blue he’s ever seen on someone, including himself, and that says a lot. Some are beginning to grow into that sickly yellow, even greenish color.

“What the hell do I have to do or say to convince you that you’re allowed to show me your pain too?” He’s not sure what he’s feeling, he just wishes you said something, wishes he knew so he could care for you properly.

“There’s not much you can do for bruises, Steve.” You shrug. “M’sorry, I just wanted to put you first. You’re always caring for everyone else before yourself, and I wish you’d let someone care for you, too. I want to give you the love and care you give everyone but yourself. These mean nothing to me, I just didn’t want you to be disappointed.”

Steve can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Disappointed? From what? How you look with these? Because I wasn’t kidding when I said you’re still a babe with your face wounds, and that applies here too. You have… no fucking idea how badly I want to get my hands all over you, but I think we should stop. I don’t want to make those more painful than they already are.”

“Steve, I can handle it. I bruise like a peach, anyway.” You’re mentioning it casually, but enjoy the way he blushes at your words, clearly thinking of better reasons to be bruised. You smirk, “Feel free to tuck that fun fact away for another day.”

“I— I’ll bring that back up later.” He murmurs, trying to focus. “Anyway… are you sure?”

Rolling your eyes, you grab his hands, bringing them to your tits roughly. “Does this answer your question?”

Enthusiastically, Steve nods, fingers already toying with your nipples, breathing out, “Fuck yeah it does.” You start giggling until he latches onto one of the sensitive nubs, fingers softly pinching at the other every so often, in between grabbing a handful of you. He groans into your skin, thinking about how long he’s wanted to touch you like this, but it’s better than he imagined.

You’re arching your back as he switches sides, a thread of spit unraveling from his lips that’s still clinging to you; your eyes to roll back as you grind down onto his lap from just the sight alone, fingers twisting into his locks, tugging softly as he sucks, bites, soothes with his tongue, then repeats.

“I need…” You’re gasping, head falling back; Steve takes advantage of your exposed neck, kissing up your chest before leaving small, soft love bites up to your jawline.

“You need… what?” He kisses the corner of your mouth, but you can’t take it slow anymore, you need him now. You grab his face to kiss him, and it’s a little sloppy, a little clumsy, but he leans into it anyway. The two of you find a semi perfect rhythm, one that flows with the way you continue to grind onto him. You nip his bottom lip, tugging on it before letting go, and Steve moans into you.

“Need you, need you right now.” You’re frantically murmuring against his lips.

“We don’t have to rush.” He pulls back, searching your features for any sign that something is off, but all he sees are your lust blown pupils. “I mean, I’m not complaining, but—”

You kiss him quickly before pushing him back against the pillows, shimmying down his body, kissing his scars with care along the way, continuing down until you reach the waistband of his shorts.

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“Steve, quit being nice for, like, five minutes. Are you okay with this?”

With a gulp he nods, breathing heavily “I— I’m more than okay with this.”

“Thank fuck.” You tug his shorts down, almost drooling as you watch his length spring free, the rounded tip red with desire, leaking precum. “Steve, what the fuck.”

“You’re sending me so many mixed signals tonight, holy shit. Is that … is that good?”

You need to shut your mouth, mind too far in a cock-drunk daze to tease him with words. So, you run your tongue up the underside his cock, broadly, taking your time to reach the head, eyes on him the entire time. Steve yelps on contact, eyes screwing shut as his head falls against the pillow, but he pushes himself to look down at you, bucking against your tongue before you take him in completely.

“Jesus fucking Chri-iiiiiiiist,” He shudders out, hands tangling into your hair as you begin to bob up and down on him. “This… you… hhhhohmygod—”

You pull off with a pop that echoes off the walls, a sound Steve wishes he could’ve recorded to play when he gets off in the future, followed by the sight of you drooling onto his cock as it kicks with need.

“Tell me how you really feel, Steve,” You tease before taking him in again, but he holds your head in place, making you pout. “Am I doing something wrong?”

“No, no, fuck no. Your mouth feels so fucking good, angel, but I need… I…”

“Take your time, babe, it’s okay.” You tease, making Steve groan, both with annoyance and a craving for you to get mouthy, just not now.

“Fuck me, just need you to fuck me, please baby,” He’s babbling as he tugs you back up his body, hands on your hips as you hover above his cock. “Need to feel you, angel.”

You push your shorts down and throw them to the floor with your shirt. “Yeah?” You lightly rub your core against his cock, and he bucks with a desperate whine.

“Yes, please, please—”

Words become nonexistent as you sink down onto him slowly, walls slowly stretching around him, adjusting to his size.

“Knew you w- were big, but not like… not like this.” You’re panting, overwhelmed by the slight pain from taking him to the hilt, but the pleasure is greater, rendering your brain useless. Not a damn thing on your mind except Steve and how fucking good he feels so deep inside of you.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” Steve gasps, grip digging into your hips roughly, knowing he’s just adding to your bruises, but he’ll apologize later. “You’re so— never felt a pussy tighter than yours, angel. M’god, don’t fucking move.”

You giggle, and he glares at you. “Don’t— do not do that either, just… fucking sit there for a second, okay? I’m really not trying to blow my load this early.” You’re doing your best to keep stoic, nodding as you fold your hands and wait patiently. “Oh my god, why are you like this?”

Shrugging, you begin to reply, “Why n— oh!” Steve pulls you down to him roughly, kissing you as he begins to move, fucking you slowly from below. He guides you by the hold on your hips, bouncing you on his cock, causing your eyes to roll back as he moves a hand to the back of your head. Holding you tightly against him, your forehead rests against his as the two of you gasp and pant lewdly onto each other’s lips. You’re riding him like no one else has, to the high fucking heavens, and he swears he’s gonna die a happy man right here, underneath you.

“How often have you dreamt about this?” You shamelessly ask, sitting up and leaning back as you roll your hips, grinding down so he hits your sweet spot just right. Steve’s speechless, flexing up into you, jaw slack as your walls flutter around him. “You’re so pussy-drunk right now, huh?”

A strained “Mhm,” leaves him; he’s not even going to hide how he’s putty in your hands, right now, and as long as you’ll have him. Finally, he rasps, “Fuck, wish we did this sooner.”

“We got all the time in the world to make up for it, Stevie.” Your legs twitch and shake, signaling you’re not far off from your high, but they’re also sore still from days ago, and right now, you’re just making them hurt more. Great cause, of course, but it doesn’t dull the pain, so you’re beginning to slow down. “Fuck, my legs hurt.”

“Oh, no you don’t,” Steve pulls you back down arms wrapped around your back, one hand gripping around his other wrist, keeping you stable as he plants his feet against the bed, fucking up into you with everything he’s got. “It’s okay, angel, I’ve got ya’.” He grunts, hammering into you with so much force, you can’t help but moan loudly, almost screaming, but you bury your face into his shoulder, biting down to muffle your noises as you flutter around him. “Fuck, didn’t think you were so vocal.” At this point, you are screaming, but the noise barely leaves you as you keep your mouth on his skin.

Steve’s hips are starting to stutter, and his cock twitches, needy for release. “Good girl, don’t wanna wake up the whole house, right?” That’s the final push over the edge for you; grabbing Steve’s face, you kiss him deeply to keep quiet. The faint, metallic taste of blood works its way onto your tongue, and you realize your semi-treated split lip is split once again. You pull back, trying to keep as quiet as possible, frantically whispering, “I love you, I love you, fuck, I love you—” Following you into bliss, Steve pulls you back onto his lips as he cums, filling you shamelessly as you still squeeze him, milking him for all he’s got as he’s moaning into you.

When the two of you come down, covered in a sticky sheen of sweat and hearts ready to beat out of your chests, the shame hits fast as he pulls back enough to murmur, “Fuck. I didn’t even ask—”

“Birth control is a beautiful thing, babe.” You smile down at him, breathless. Steve sighs relief, thankful for whoever the fuck created the pill. His eyes fall to your lip before thumb swiping the mess away.

“Shit, m’sorry.”

“Worth it. So fucking worth it.” You giggle before he kisses you softly.

Pulling back, Steve reaches out to cup the side of your face, and you lean into his touch, giddy and exhausted all at once.

He’s admiring the view of you above him, softly replying to your confession, “I love you, too.”

The two of you are basking in the afterglow of one another, beaming and holding each other tight, unable to move just yet. Steve doesn’t mind taking a second to catch his breath, but then a loud bang against his bedroom door startles the both of you.

“About fucking time!” Robin shouts from the other side before walking away. Faintly you hear her huff, “Noisy assholes.” Steve locks eyes with you, both of you stunned and embarrassed before bursting into a fit of laughter together.

“Still worth it?” Steve teases, and you shrug playfully.

“Worth what, the impending shame fest they’re gonna put us through tomorrow morning?” You lean down to kiss him again before replying against his kiss-swollen lips, “Oh, fuck yeah.”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #Steve Harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #my fics #prompts #pin back in the grenade

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reiincarnatiion · 9 months

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shadows of destiny | azriel x reader | part two

summary : jealous but confused azriel, yearning shadows and sexy lucien and sexy reader ;)

🧚‍♀️

a/n: 💗 WOW. SO MUCH SUPPORT ON THE FIRST PART BROOO GUYS I JUST OFCOURSE HAD TO WRITE PART TWO and def will have part 3 i guess? ngl i am an angsty writer so im not good at writing happy endings HAHA rip for u all.

this is so addictive ive already written 3 stories in a span of like three days HAHAH 💗

also most azriel stories i read are never from his perspective so im keeping it from his perspective to change things up! he is def a bit out of character because i havent read acotar for a while rip but enjoy! thanks for the support and let me know your thoughts !! also this isnt proof read cuz ya girls lazy >.<

read [ part one ] !!

---💗---

"What are you two doing?"

Lucien and you both looked up, shocked (but not really) , to find Azriel standing in the middle of the dance floor, clad in his black silk shirt and pants, with swirls of tattoos peeking through, his collarbone on full display. Fae moved gracefully around him, dancing and making out, carefully avoiding the famed shadow singer.

He stands in front of you two, just as you two had begun your pathetic attempts to drunkedly dance. Your short dress had ridden up to the top of your thighs, pressed against Lucien's pants, and Azriel knew it was entirely inappropriate. He observed as you raised your eyebrows and looked down at him.

He couldn't fathom how you two had crossed the line from friends, but he knew it was wrong. Over the eons, he had seen you with many men, but they had always been strangers to him and the Inner Circle. They had never been serious.

Were you and Lucien serious? The club fell silent to him, as he awaited your answer.

His shadows swirled around his feet, urging him to intervene. Some even attempted to caress your legs, but Azriel swiftly reeled them in, refusing to acknowledge how soft and sweet-smelling they might be. He couldn't bear to know how apparently tempting they were.

Azriel clenched his jaw as you gazed back at him with your kohl-lined eyes, their newfound seductive power nearly breaking his stoic demeanor.

He bit the inside of his cheek to quell the sudden effect your look had on him, not wanting to indulge in such thoughts; they could only lead to trouble.

"Uhhh... Dancing?" you drawled back finally, rolling your eyes in a way that he would have only have liked to see in bed with you, behind you, with his hands wrapped in your hair as he-

He blinked, the deafening thumping of the music returning to his consciousness, as the rush from his panicking shadows ebbed away, calming his racing heart.

What was he doing? Why did he even come here? A wave of guilt washed over him as he tore his gaze away from your captivating eyes, only to hear you laugh and giggle as Lucien whispered something in your ear, drawing you closer. A giggle Azriel had never noticed was so adorable and sexy at the same time.

Azriel shook his head, trying to make sense of the overwhelming emotions within him. It didn't make any sense. You were like a little sister to him, an integral part of his family.

Stupidly, he realized that he didn't know why his shadows urged him towards you, nor did he understand the sudden waves of jealousy coursing through him.

"AZ! SO NICE OF YOU TO FINALLY JOIN!" a voice screeched, breaking the tension that had enveloped him and the couple in front of him.

They weren't a couple, but they looked like one, and he couldn't stand it. He didn't know why he was acting this way, but he knew one thing for sure: he didn't like it.

He didn't like how Lucien's slender fingers gripped your waist with such familiarity and intent.

The voice that had called out before now manifested next to him as Cassian stumbled over, dragging Nesta along. Their interlocked hands taunted him once more, but Azriel forced himself to look up at Cassian.

"BROTHER!! LET'S DANCE!!" Cassian howled, reaching them and clumsily starting to move their bodies to the rhythm, grabbing Azriel's shoulders to mimic their motions. Azriel stumbled back, desperate to escape the situation, but Cassian persisted.

"Leave me alone, Cassian," he mumbled, brushing his brother's hands away with his gloved ones.

"Why don't you ever dance with us?" Cassian whined, oblivious to Azriel's attempts to withdraw.

Azriel burned with annoyance, returning his attention to you and Lucien. But then, a tender voice spoke out behind him, and he knew it was Feyre even before turning around to see Rhys drunkenly laughing with Cassian as the other couple joined.

“Az, what are you doing, staring holes into Lucien and Y/N,"

"I--" Azriel faltered, trying to make sense of his emotions and jumbled thoughts. "It's just wrong."

He blinked, wondering why he had even gotten up in the first place.

"They're just drunkenly dancing; Elain is fine with it. You don't have to defend her honor here, Az," Feyre assured him, patting him on the back before returning to her mate.

Azriel stood still, smoothing out his pants and running a hand through his tousled hair. The club's hazy atmosphere seemed to envelop him, and he realized that the fae wine he had consumed tonight had hit him hard. Perhaps he had gone too far this time.

"Yes, yes, of course. I just thought Lucien should respect Elain..." he answered hastily, though he knew Feyre had already left. Shadows informed him that Rhys and Feyre had retreated to their more secluded spot again, and Azriel felt a pang of envy.

A couple of fae rammed into him, slightly spilling their drink and apologising in a haste as they realised who they had just knocked into. He glowered down at them and shook his head, stalking back silently back to the booth.

He walked back to the booth where Elain was still seated, nursing a pink drink.

"What was that all about, Az?" she asked innocently, though her doe eyes betrayed her knowing nature.

"It was nothing."

"You were clearly distraught, Az."

"My shadows sensed something was wrong, that's all, Elain."

"Lucien and Y/N?" Elain asked gently, her hand reaching for his gloved hands.

Azriel looked down at her delicate skin brushing against his black leather glove and he felt a sudden overwhelming contrast between the two. He removed his hand from hers, realizing how mismatched they were.

Cassian and Nesta complemented each other perfectly, a match made from the Cauldron itself. Feyre and Rhys shared a love and trust so profound, it was interwoven within their powers.

But what did he have with Elain, other than a forced interest in gardening and her white and pink flowers?

"They're just dancing, it's fine," he told her, his voice numb. He couldn't help but look back at you and Lucien, still writhing against each other on the dance floor in ways that supposedly platonic friends shouldn't.

Lucien's hands were still firmly on your waist as you both gyrated, laughing and singing along to the music. You'd blame it all on the alcohol the next day, if asked about your actions. Azriel knew that, just as he'd experienced countless nights where Cassian or Rhys had kissed him during similar inebriated moments.

Beside you two, Nesta and Cassian mirrored your movements, seemingly unfazed by the intimate nature of your dance. The club's flashing colors continued to shift and flash all around Azriel, in strikes of pink, blue and green but all he saw was red, and he did not

Know

Why.

---

read part three here dearies !!

taglist for shadows of destiny : @allyjoe755 @impossibelle @t0uch-starved-h0e @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @marina468 @cassan1306

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milswrites · 2 months

Text

Hobbies Part 10.

~ Azriel X Reader

Summary: In an attempt to keep Azriel away from Elain, Rhys sends him on a sabbatical to the Day Court. With a lot more free time on his hands Azriel needs to find something to keep him occupied. Unfortunately he meets Y/N who has the annoying habit of not staying away. Can she teach him that there’s more to life than he thought?

Grumpy!Azriel X Sunshine!Reader

Series masterlist

Warnings: None? Maybe a little bit of suggestiveness 😏😏

Azriel was terrified. His palms sweating uncontrollably, causing him to constantly brush them against his cobalt tunic in the hope of hiding his nerves. This was it. His second chance, his redo of the already perfect first date to prove to his mate just how much she meant to him. The date he hoped would consolidate the bond between them, either snapping into place for the unaware woman naturally or if that failed to occur, Azriel would have to pluck up the courage to tell her himself.

That was if he didn’t blurt the words into her face the very moment he sees her next. Azriel was already having to forcefully swallow down the words which were crawling up his throat, an unwanted tickle that he couldn’t get rid of no matter how many times he cleared his throat.

He was practicing to himself, whispering under his breath as he tried to formulate exactly how he’d like to tell her if it comes to it. Not wanting to mess it up if the moment arrives, afraid of being rendered speechless when it does. Azriel also prayed to the cauldron that this practice, the utters of love and devotion on his lips, would ensure that he didn’t just scream ‘mate’ at her the moment she opened her door. The last thing he wanted after finally coming so close to the happiness he had always dreamed of, was to scare her away and further embarrass himself in the process.

So here he was mumbling away to himself as he sat outside the small cottage Y/N had been staying in whilst working in the Day Court village. His desire to be alone with her without the curious gaze of the villagers, had almost driven Azriel to shoot up into the sky to escape them. Y/N wrapped securely in his arms, as he brought them to a location where it could be just the two of them. Y/N, however, had felt his change in demeanour - no doubt he had passed his emotions through the bond she didn’t even know was there - and begged the male for just a little bit of time to freshen up and send Helion a message explaining where she was going.

In hindsight, Azriel was grateful for her slight delay. Having realised that in his frantic efforts to find Y/N, he hadn’t even had time to think about what he was going to do and where he would take her. He had been driven by pure instinct. Even now his senses were only just starting to trickle back as Azriel rushed to come up with a plan.

A quick message to Rhysand, the passing of a mental image of what he needed and a promise that he would explain why later, and the date was planned. So now Azriel didn’t just have to worry about the growing anxiety in anticipation of the night ahead, but also the terrifying prospect of having to go home and explain everything that had unfolded over the past few weeks to his clueless family. Though the thought of telling his brothers that he too had finally found his other half did send a wave of joy through Azriel.

Finally, the sharp click of a handle turning rang out, drawing Azriel from his worried state. His eyes flickered towards the source of the sound and instantly a wave of calm washed over his body, mind clearing of all anxiety as he laid his golden eyes upon the heavenly woman before him in awe. And the world stopped.

~~~~~

Azriel could have been told it was the Mother herself before him and he would have believed it. The soft glow Y/N radiated due to the burning ember of the sun setting gave her the appearance of a goddess. A soft halo of light surrounding her as if she had been painted by some higher power.

And her dress. A flowing delight of warm yellows and gold, sparkling as if the swirling golden thread was made of pure sunlight, and that was exactly what she was. The bright sun in Azriel’s dull world. The ethereal light that shone from her pure soul was enough to keep the darkness at bay, to command Azriel’s shadows to bow down before the celestial woman before him.

Azriel who had spent the past few months wondering why the cauldron didn’t match him with Elain now saw the truth standing before his very eyes, as he wondered how it was possible that he didn’t notice the bond sooner. Y/N had been created for him just as he had been for her. A perfectly matched antithesis. Light and dark. Day and night. And Azriel would spend the rest of his life grateful to the cauldron for making this force of a woman his mate.

“Azriel?” A concerned Y/N who had been trying to get the males attention broke his silent worship of her.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful in the whole of Prythian”

And he meant it, not even all the stars in the night sky would ever compare to the beauty that is Y/N.

She blushed, a sweet pink blush that perfectly complimented the tone of her shimmering dress. “And I,” she smiled shyly up at the male, eyes hidden underneath her fluttering lashes, “I have never seen a man so handsome, that he looked as if he had been carved by the cauldron itself.”

He gently took her hand which was resting loosely by her side, lifting it to his lips and placing a gentle kiss to her skin, a matching blush dusted across his own cheeks.

“So what exciting plans do you have for me this time?” Y/N smiled brightly as she spoke, a smile which made Azriel’s knees tremble weakly and his heart skip a beat as it pulsed ferociously in his chest. He would be lying if he said her smile didn’t make him feel a certain way.

“ We,” Azriel started, hovering his warm lips close to Y/N’s until he could feel the breath leaving her mouth, lips grazing against each others as he continued to speak, “are going to another court. I can’t deny you of your need to see the world any longer.” He closed the space between them, connecting their lips firmly as Y/N squealed in excitement at the prospect of visiting another court. Her joyous smile so wide that Azriel reluctantly had to pull away from the kiss. But he was glad he did, for the image of Y/N’s earth-shattering smile as she looked up at him, dressed in gold, was enough to top the memory he had preserved of her standing in the garden all those weeks ago.

“Hold on tight” he warned, pulling her in by her waist until she was tight against his chest in a soothing embrace, Azriel’s lips brushing softly against her neck as his shadows consumed them.

~~~~~

Y/N gasped as the cool flakes of falling snow kissed her cheeks as they materialised in the Winter Court. An amazed wonder on her face as she took in her surroundings. The thick blanket of velvet snow which covered the ground. The glistening branches of the fur trees, bending gently with the weight of the icy powder. And the most beautiful view of all, the crystalline patterns which weaved over the frozen lake, icy branches appearing as though they were delicately painted by hand.

“It’s…magnificent” she stared, silvery tears lining her shining eyes. “Yeah, it is” Azriel replied, his loving eyes failing to leave her face, not bothering to look at what she was speaking of. A subtle shiver, from a not very appropriately dressed Y/N, caused Azriel to tear his eyes from her frame to search for the bag of goods he had asked Rhysand to drop off, praying the male had done what was asked of him.

Locating the bag, he willed himself to leave Y/N’s shaking side to go and pull out the cloak he had requested inside. His hands settling over the thick material as he removed it from the bag, a cloak of Night Court black. Azriel swept the item over Y/N’s shoulders, hands moving to fasten the golden clasp at the neck before uncontrollably drifting up to her watching face, his thumb running slowly over her lip. Admiring how even adorned in the darkest of shades, Y/N still shone brighter than any star in the sky. Nothing could dim her light.

“There’s more!” Azriel cleared his throat quickly, removing his hand as if the touch of her skin had electrocuted him. Fearing what would overcome him if he held onto her for a little bit longer. His body burning warmly even in the cold air, the presence of her body close to his being all the fuel he needed. The sight of her dressed in the colour of his court enough to create a tingling sensation which travelled further south than he’d like to admit.

Azriel distracted himself from this sensation by routing through the bag once more, pulling out two sets of boots, silver blades attached to the bottom of their soles. “I thought we’d try something new” his words came out more anxious than he had intended, now worried that this would be something Y/N had no interest in having never even seen ice before.

“It’s a perfect idea Azriel” she reassured him, a comforting hand resting on his shoulder. And so Azriel helped her slip from her dainty shoes into the warming boots his brother had managed to find him. Tying the laces and letting his hand selfishly drift over her legs for longer than needed.

He then put his own shoes on, stumbling around as he pushed himself up off the floor in the unfamiliar footwear, Y/N’s arms flying out to stabilise him. “Careful” she giggled as he slipped around, “wouldn’t want you to damage that pretty face of yours.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

~~~~~

To anyone else it would have been a hilarious sight, the spymaster of the Night Court and a girl from Day who had never seen snow, gripping onto each other tightly as they made tiny steps together in their bladed-boots, attempting to reach the edge of the frosty lake. To Azriel, however, this was a moment he would cherish forever.

He was uncomfortable, sure, but he had found his other half and dared to try a new thing by choice and to him, that made him unstoppable. And so despite the blisters already forming as the boots rubbed against his feet, Azriel allowed himself to plaster the widest smile he had ever worn across his face as he pushed off the snow covered ground, skating onto the frozen surface. A giggling Y/N following suit, their hands locked together as they stumbled like newborn deer onto the ice.

They weren’t graceful by any means, there were numerous times where one of them was picking the other off the floor after they had fallen, hearty laughs upon their lips. But they didn’t need to be graceful or fluid, the two moved in a dance that was their own, just like that day in the corridor of his building.

The two performed shaky twirls and uneven spins. If anyone were watching from the rivers edge they would see two ghosts dancing in the mist of the evening, a dark mass shadows copying their movements and curling around the pair. Life and death meeting in the solitude of the Winter Courts wilderness, hidden away from the rest of the world and locked in a never ending dance.

Until the moment was broken by the pick of Azriel’s blade getting caught on an uneven patch of ice. The male went flying, roughly crashing into Y/N and knocking them both breathlessly onto the floor. Just as they had been doing all night when one had fallen, Azriel broke out into a roar of laughter, chest heaving with glee as he howled from where he was leaning over Y/N, arms on either side of her head as they shook.

But Y/N just stared at Azriel in shock. Wide eyes never faltering from his grinning face. At her failure to reciprocate how funny Azriel found this situation he panicked, “What’s wrong!” He cried out into the silence, hands gripping onto her face as his eyes searched her body for any injuries, “Are you hurt?!”

“Mate” Y/N choked out as if winded, disbelief flashing across her face, “You’re my mate!”

If possible an even more surprised expression crossed her face as Azriel beamed a wide smile instead of matching the shock she held at the revelation. He wrapped his arms around her in a bear hug, body collapsing on top of hers as he no longer held his weight up, the two tangled together in a loving embrace.

“You’re my mate” he confirmed, planting kisses in every location his lips could reach. “Mine” he couldn’t do anything to stop the world he growled against her skin as he sucked lightly on her neck.

Needing answers, Y/N mustered the strength the push the male away, breathlessly asking, “how long?”

“I didn’t know” Azriel panted, adrenaline spiking in his body at the events which were finally unfolding, “not until I’d gone back home and I put on the tunic. And it just made sense. I should have known all along, you’re my missing half. You’re my mate Y/N and I love you and I shall spend forever loving you as the cauldron intended. Now I have you, I never want to live without you again.”

He pulled her back towards him, continuing his attack of kisses, Y/N seemed satisfied with his answer as she allowed him to continue roughly dragging his lips across the exposed skin of her neck contentedly, humming as he did so at the taste of her.

“My mate” she giggled, testing the sound of it on her lips, Azriel moving his head to kiss the words as they exited her lips, “my beautiful mate. I have felt drawn to you from the minute I laid my eyes on you. I was never supposed to get to know you as well as I did, but I just couldn’t stay away no matter how much I tried. Everything I did, everywhere I went, it all led back to you. Because it’s you Azriel. It’s always been you. My heart calls to you because you’re my home…my mate.”

Azriel would never get tired of hearing her say the words. The words that joined them together through a bond greater than anyone could understand. The bond that meant Azriel belonged to her. The day had had finally come for Azriel to start living his life and the best part about it was that he wouldn’t be doing it alone.

Part 11

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Notes: I wrote this while sick af so if I come back tomorrow and it’s terrible I’m going to hate myself 😭

I know I said this would be the last chapter before the epilogue but I have one more planned…

Taglist:

@thelov3lybookworm @minnieoo @going-through-shit @iluvyewman-blog @laughterafter @amysangel @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @justvibbinghere @honeybeeboobaa @willowpains @tele86 @mysticalfuncollectorus @mybestfriendmademe @starryhiraeth @gorlillaglue25 @moonlwghts @darling006 @anuttellaa @serendipityx150 @xxxalicerogersxx @that-one-little-soybean @scatteredstardustt @naturakaashi @nyx-the-alien @lostinpages13 @namelesssav @dreamlandreader @fightmedraco @maxmouse001

#acotar #fanfic #acotar imagine #sarah j maas #azriel x reader #a court of thorns and roses #azriel imagine #azriel oneshot #azriel #azriel acotar

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tastesousweet · 4 months

Text

⭒ the girl with the tattoo (i)

grumpy!matt sturniolo x sunshine!fem oc / reader

summary : matt is a grumpy tattoo artist and y/n books him for her first tattoo.

warnings : needles and pain (not very detailed tho)

mickey speaks : i don't have any tattoos so i actually know nothing ab the procedure lmaooo just guessing but i’ll be writing multiple parts for this. also i am very much self indulging bc i headcannon y/n as poc! but obvi anyone can read there's not much exclusivity ab how i write her, i js wanted to note that for any poc readers <3.

THIS IS PART 1 BTW!!!!

“SHITTT,” you draw out the last syllable at the rumble and screech of your car engine as you continue your attempt to start it.

eventually you throw your head backwards in defeat, annoyed by the unbudging car. this is the actual worst timing. you're supposed to be at the tattoo shop (that is a 12 minute drive from your apartment complex) for an appointment in less than twenty minutes.

you truly want to scream and border on throwing a tantrum but decide it would probably be better to find a solution than complain about the agony further.

you quickly find your roommate's contact, raising your phone to your ear and pinching your eyes shut as the vibrating ring hums through your skull.

"y/n? what's up?" andrea answers confused as you had only just walked out of the door five minutes ago.

"hi drea... so i know you have your own plans right now but is there any way you can give me a ride... please?"

you hear shuffling on the line, "mmm, where to?"

౨ৎ

“thank you again for driving me,” you smile at andrea and squeeze her hand before reaching for the door.

“yes, of course. you can call me when you’re done and i’ll head over here- m’sorry i can’t stay with you.” she replies and exaggerates a frown.

"i'll be fine, i think- i hope..."

"you will be fine. just don't stress or it'll hurt more."

౨ৎ

your arms are crossed tightly over your chest as you make your way into the shop (in its form of an oversized warehouse, fixed up to look stylish and comfortable- something you’d never really seen before). the rickety jingle of a small bell kindly indicates your presence to the rest of the shop.

a few people sitting in a waiting area look up before continuing their conversations (though some continued to stare as you walk by). you see a surprising amount of people crowding in a brightly decorated lounge area, housing many arcade games and a kitchenette.

you reach the receptionist desk and are greeted by a young man dressed casually, humming along to the music playing in the background of the space.

“um, hi. i’m here for my 1:30 appointment.” you state with a smile, you’re suddenly aware of how nervous you truly are.

the brunette looks over to a desktop screen with a soft scrunch of his face, “for y/n, right? huh, that’s crazy…” he rubs his chin, “1:30 was like nine minutes ago,” he looks up at you, almost like he was questioning you; who do you think you are? and why do you think you’re important enough to be late?

as soon as your face begins to morph into fear and embarrassment his own face splits into a large smile as he laughs softly. “i’m sorry- i’m such an ass but i had to- your file said you’re new clientele so i just had to fuck around.”

“you’re sick! i was fully prepared for a fucking lecture on timeliness or something,” you let out a soft laugh.

the boy comes from around the desk holding a paper and clipboard. “yeah, sorry, i’m chris,” he reaches a hand out to which you willingly return and restate your name to him, “‘m not usually up front so you probably talked to asha over the phone when booking.”

you nod and smile at the familiar name, “yeah, she was so helpful over the phone.”

“she’s awesome, i miss her,” he touches each of his shoulders then forehead before kissing his hand and pointing to the sky.

"oh my god? i'm sorry for your loss."

his eyes squint and lips pucker in confusion, "oh, she's not fired she's just on vacation right now."

"so why'd you...?"

chris cuts you off by handing you the clipboard and grabbing a pen from a cluttered mason jar on the desk as he explains, “okay, we’re just gonna have you fill out this quick consultation form; just so you and your artist will be on the same page about things.” you nod in understanding. “keep it brief, matt’s not big on reading large bodies of text,” chris laughs.

“got it,” you smile before turning to find a chair and begin writing. you truly were relieved that chris wasn’t hard on you about being late, for a second you thought you would be lectured and have to carry the guilt of dissapointing someone into a room where you'd be paying to lie in excruciating physical pain. (damn, double homecide)

the sheet had general information to fill before the questions specifically about the tattoo you’d be getting today came.

you go back up to chris once you’re finished.

“cool, follow me we’ll set you up with matt.” he leads the way and your nerves are suddenly back as it's feeling more and more real with each step. you pacify your thoughts by looking around at the many images and messages written in sharpie along the walls of the hallway. there's also plenty of hanging shelves around with vintage trinkets and succulents that compliment the space around.

chris reaches a curtain and dips his head past as if he were checking for something before giving you a chance to see. you notice the small "Matt" embroidered on the black curtain. chris then opens it wide enough for the both of you to walk into the surprisingly large space.

(who you can only assume to be) matt sits comfortably in a wheeled desk chair, legs spread. his elbow rests on the arm of the chair and he holds his head up with two of his fingers, as his middle finger grazes his irritated mouth with a stern look on his face while he scrolls on his phone.

he doesn’t move his position when he looks up at the two of you.

“alright! matt this is y/n,” chris motions between you two. matt hums, placing his phone on the desk and placing his hand out expectantly for the clipboard. chris goes to hand it to him and whispers, “fix your face, jackass,” then turning around to leave you some reassuring words, “good luck y/n, the tat’s gonna look amazing.”

but chris doesn’t see matt exaggerating a large, sarcastic smile from behind him in defense of chris’ words (he immediately drops it though). something that would make you at least giggle if you weren’t so nervous.

“thanks,” your voice is a little hoarse as you haven’t used it in some time. matt watches the boy leave before looking over to you. he rolls the chair closer, reading over your short (as requested) responses.

“you can sit down.” he forms it almost as a question like are you going to sit down or do i have to direct you to do everything?

you sit on the black cushioned bench, lined with a disposable white cloth and begin to fidget with your fingernails as matt goes over your paperwork quietly.

“''kay, so you’re getting a small hello kitty on your lower hip?” he summarizes while checking and signing a few lines on a paper.

“yeah, um, i told asha over the phone that way you could have it sketched already- she told me that’s best and saves time for the both of us.”

his response is a slowed nod and a breathy, “yep,” as he rolls over to his desk and places the clipboard on the surface before opening a drawer and digging through it.

you gaze around the room and wonder if he decorated the space himself or if he wasn’t the type to be bothered enough to add personal things to his work area. almost all the posters are of music artists or tattoos, the most personal things you see are a small picture frame on his desk and a pokémon plushie sat on a chair in the corner of the room. all of which just pose more questions in your working brain.

you notice him switching to a different swivel chair that is lower to the ground and bringing himself (as well as a moving table with already prepared supplies) closer to you.

you’re nervous again. even after your roommate and older brother have both given you advice on first tattoos and the pain expected you’re still finding yourself scared of what to expect. your ear piercings would have nothing on this.

“first tattoo?” matt clarifies, as if he could read your mind. you nod and go to speak but stop when he gestures for you to lay back on the cushion.

you’re sure that he only was searching for a quick confirmation from you and is not too interested in your life or what brings you here but you’ve found that talking relieves your own stress and you absolutely cannot just lay there and only speak when spoken to.

“yeah, i guess m’nervous. i just hope i don’t, like, die from pain or hate the outcome or curse myself in a couple years for the placement- but it's not that i'm doubting that it'd be cute. younger me would be screaming at the fact that i'm even here..." you pause just for a second. "but then again i'm not sure how much forty year old me will appreciate it. so i guess i just don’t know. you know?”

you lean yourself up to get a look at matt, only to realize he has airpods in and simply has not been listening or interested in you (just as you expected). he’s moving his head the smallest amount to the beat as he works on his sketch.

he notices your movement though and takes a headphone out of his ear, “are you okay?” is all he asks.

a pretty broad question. and an anxiety inducing question to ask a girl who's been questioning her decisions as much as you have. you hope you’re okay. will you still be okay when this (mostly) permanent decision is etched into your skin forever? is he okay? will he give you any sense of encouragement or comfort during this process? are tattoo artists typically like this or are you just considered especially needy clientele?

“yeah, i just was- like, curious, i guess.” you mumble a little and internally hate that you feel so insecure in this situation. so out of control.

“was just adjusting my sketch to be a smaller. nothing crazy happening over here.” he shrugs. “you can go ahead and pull your shirt up, though. i’m just gonna clean the area and prep before inking.” he explains to you very straight and to the point.

you fall back into place and obey, inching your shirt up further to expose your lower stomach. you drape your arms over your face to gain composure as you hear matt rip some packaging.

the coolness of the cleaning pad sends your stomach butterflies and you try to not think too hard about the fact that matt’s hands will be on your lower stomach and hip for a good length of time.

eventually matt speaks to you again, “i’m starting so if you’re feeling the need to get the fuck out you gotta do it now or for forever hold your peace.”

you smile a little at his dry joke but when you turn your head to see him fully serious you blink, “no, i’ll be fine. thanks though.”

he just nods his head and goes to put his airpods back in before you’re interrupting again, “wait. whatcha listening to?”

he’s suprised by the question. his clients rarely get too involved in what he’s doing. mostly because he does a great fucking job no matter how few words he may utter over an entire session. there's a mutual understanding there that he's never had to speak up about to anyone. other artists use a strong bond or charisma to secure returning customers but matt finds there’s nothing better to display than his pure talent and passion for his craft. that’s how he keeps clients. they ask and he will always deliver; and that’s how he particularly likes it. no questions and minimal conversation.

the sound of the tattoo gun begins and just for your sake he decides to answer the question without malice, “just some frank ocean instrumental tracks." he places his hands back onto your skin, "don’t start moving.”

you pinch your eyes shut and squeeze your forearms as soon as the initial pain takes over. it’s a feeling you can only describe as a needle poking into you a trillion times at once. which is literally what's happening to you.

you’re not oblivious to matt’s disengagement with your attempts at conversation but you need him to continue to speak to you or else you’ll think too much about the needle actively puncturing you. “oh yeah? i’ve never listened to him before…”

“surprising. he’s pretty big.” matt mumbles slightly, focusing on his work far more than his slight interest in your knowledge of frank ocean.

“mhm. i’ve been meaning to give him a listen. could you share?”

matt’s eyes just move to look up at your face as he tries not to beg you to just be quiet and let him do this so that you both can leave within an hour. “i’m good on that.” he returns to tattooing.

“huh? you can’t share music?”

“i would prefer not to but-” he doesn’t even know why he’s continuing to fuel this anymore.

“what if i add a pretty,” you pause to wince a little as the needle moves lower, “pretty please?”

“i’m almost done,” he mumbles the lie.

“matt?”

he pauses for only a second to glance over to you. he’s met with a face scrunched in pain with an attempted smile that he thinks makes you look more like a doped up hippie than the cute effect you were going for. you plead after his glance, “pretty please?”

he rolls his eyes and sets his tattoo gun down, reluctantly swiveling over to his desk. before you even realize what exactly he’s doing there’s a airy beat of drums and piano playing from a small speaker in the room.

once he's back over to you he can tell you’re smiling even though your face is mostly covered by your arms. “thank you, i needed a distraction or something.”

he mumbles an “mhm” and returns to his work.

౨ৎ

there was generally no talking after that. only a few moments you observed (due to your need to cling on to literally anything going on besides the pinching at your lower side) that were any indication of matt's quiet presence. you noticed when matt would softly hum the lyrics to the instrumentals over the speaker and when you began to tap your fingers out of boredom and nerves, to which he simply placed his hand over them to force them flat while muttering a small “stop.”

when matt was completely finished he asked you if he could take a picture to add to his instagram and you agreed eagerly. he then added a strip of tattoo film over a layer of protective ointment. after he helped you to fully stand he explained how to care for it and how important cleaning is because “that shit will get gunky as fuck.” and you told him that you promise to do everything he said. he also gave you a detailed list on a card for you to follow just in case you forget.

you glance down at your tattoo one last time before you begin to leave the room you’d just spent a lengthy hour of your life in. you assume matt doesn’t want much else from you until he calls your name from his desk. you turn and see him still looking at his phone before glancing up, “uh, what’s your insta handle, so i can tag you in this?”

you don’t know why you’re surprised but you are.

you agree to exchange handles with him before deciding to compliment him once more, “my tattoo is perfect, by the way. i love it so much, thank you.” you want to tell him that you hope you didn’t annoy him too much but you don’t know if that will annoy him more. so you take his nod and hint of a smile as his way of showing appreciation, keeping your own smile bright to mask the crushing feeling of someone seeming so indifferent towards you.

after walking past the curtain and through the trinket-filled hallway you’re back to the main area of the warehouse. you see a different collection of people gathered playing pool and some more huddled on a couch looking at a girl’s phone in awe. chris is busy talking with what seems to be a close friend when you walk up to the reception desk.

when his eyes find your bright expression he’s bouncing back with energy, “hey! i’m assuming it went well?" he asks.

"very well. glad it's over though, i can't lie." you laugh while taking your debit card from your purse.

"yeah, definitely not the best feeling. especially when matt's ugly face is that close to you." chris jokes and takes your card to cash you out.

you laugh along with him but assure him that matt's looks weren't an issue. he raises his eyebrows and has a growing smirk that travels to his eyes when he gives you your card back. you try not the blush at the implication, "i didn't mean it like that."

"right," he nods and chuckles softly, "well hopefully you'll be back for another eventually?" he hands you a receipt.

"i mean how could i not with such a sweet receptionist asking me? i'm sure you get everyone to come back," you joke.

chris shrugs with a cocky grin, "somethin' like that."

౨ৎ

"oh my god it's fucking adorable, what?!" andrea exclaims with a spoonful of frozen yogurt still in her mouth.

she initally begged to see it as soon as she picked you up but you dramatically told her you had just experienced the worst pain of your life and you'd need a sweet treat if you were planning to not sleep the rest of the day away. so she just rolled her eyes and demanded you show her once you both arrive at your favorite frozen yogurt shop (conveniently down the street from your apartment complex).

"i knowww," you respond and quickly pull the lower part of your shirt down with a smile, taking a seat across from drea.

"how'd it go, though? i'm curious. i've only been to warehouse 79 like once, and it was for an event."

"it was good, they were all generally kind and my guy did exactly what i wanted. i'm pretty happy."

"'my guy,' oh okayy?" she takes a bite and smirks.

"not what i meant! i should have just said matt. like, the guy who did my tattoo-"

"mhmm."

"stop.” you smirk, “i mean he was not ugly by any means but he seemed to not care to get to know me at all. which is fine, he's not paid to care about me. but i doubt i'll ever see him again." you shrug taking another bite of frozen yogurt.

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆🎱˚

#this took way too long #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets fan fiction #sturniolo triplets smut #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #tattoo matt n yn

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roseychains · 2 months

Note

could you maybe do relationship/nsfw headcanons for gojo and nanami. Please

Relationship and nsfw h/c for Gojo and Nanami ~

A/n: thanks for the request! This was pretty fun writing, I enjoyed it a lot and kinda went crazy ;3

C/w: fluff, sillyness. As for nsfw, written by a minor!

Sfw

Gojo

Major gift giver!! It’s his love language and he certainly has the money to do so. If he sees something that reminds him of you, he’ll buy it for you. If he thinks you’ll like it, he buys it for you. If he thinks it’s a cool thing, he’ll buy it to show you

Sooo touchy. He’s clingy and cuddly. He always has his hands on you. Holding yours, snaked around your waist, hip, around your neck, on your thigh, it doesn’t matter. He needs to hold you. When he gets home from particularly draining missions, he just wants to wrap his arms around you and sleep

Speaking of sleep, he’s really sleepy. And snores loud as fuck, almost monstrously so. That’s only for day naps, at night, he won’t let himself sleep before you are asleep

He sometimes has bad dreams, dreams where something happens to you and will wake up and pull you closer. He’s gentle enough to not wake you up but holding you is a comfort to him

Loves to take you shopping and play dress up with you. He will pick out clothes with you then send you to the changing room, and have you walk out real quick to show him how you look

He loves showering together, and he loves washing your hair for you and vice versa

You play games together, and he rages. Y’all definitely have some shared concels for playing things together, and he will throw a fit when he loses

He likes helping you cook. He will get things out for you, cut veggies and wash the dishes while you run the kitchen

But sometimes he cooks for you, doing it all in an apron that says “kiss the chef” or something cheesy

Buys you the most expensive jewelry, and urges you to wear it anytime you go out

Hugs from behind!! Lots of sneaky teasing touches. Pinches you playfully. Slaps ur ass then runs knowing your about to turn around and get his 10x harder

He acts like he’s smaller than he is. Will definitely ask to be little spoon, but you end up wrapping around him like a backpack. Sits on YOUR lap, etc

Always wants a kiss. Never let’s you leave the house without a kiss, and vise versa

He will pose for you. Pose for you to draw him, pose for pics, etc

Let’s you practice hair, nails, makeup, and anything else traditionally feminine on him. He thinks he looks fabulous

Will attempt to take bites of your food when you aren’t looking

Nanami

Such a gentlemen. He will chauffeur you everywhere, open your door for you, carry you when your feet hurt, pay for 100% of all dates, treats you like a princess

Speaking of princess treatment, he makes you breakfast in bed “just because”

Definition of a male wife. He does all the cleaning and helps with the cooking, always has the bed made and the house tidy by the time you get home

Brushes and does your hair for you, learned how to specifically for you

Such a romantic. I’m talking candle lit dinners, rose petals adorning the bedroom, bubble baths and more

Surprisingly super shy in public. You have to break him out of his shell a little bit

He secretly wears women’s perfume when he can. He thinks it smells so much nicer than cologne

Puts your needs first down to the most minimal details. Not making you sit next to strangers on trains, letting you get the entire hotel bed to yourself, letting you shower first with the hot water, etc

He takes any and all of your injuries seriously. Even a small paper cut he will have you wash and put a bandage on it to prevent infection

He also doesn’t take any risks. He makes sure anytime you guys are outside for an extended period of time that your wearing sunscreen. When you guys are in grass, he’s making sure you have on some kind of bug spray on your ankles

Brews coffee everymorning like clockwork for the both of you. He likes it black but bought a ton of stuff for you, so he makes your coffee Starbucks style the way you like it with cream and stuff

Watches you sleep, not in a creepy way. More in like your so beautiful he can’t keep his eyes off way

He’s super into yoga, will go to yoga classes with you. He’s so stiff he needs it

He reads a lot of books, and will geek out about them to you

Frequently accidently sleeps with his glasses on, you’ll wake up beside him and he will just. Have them on. And when he gets up in the morning to take them off he has red marks around his eyes

Nsfw

Gojo

Such a fucking tease. He LOVES to get you worked up before giving you what you want

Edging and overstim both ways. He loves to get you so close to that edge, then pull out and make you whine or beg for it. He also really enjoys making yoy cum over and over until your crying and pleading with him to stop. As for himself, his main motive for edging himself is to help him last longer. Lord knows he can’t stand more than 10 minutes inside you without cumming. He also loves it when you milk him for all he’s worth, ridding him into tears

Absolutely into sensory deprivation. He gets a kick out of either you, not being able to know his next move keeping you in the dark, or him, being at your mercy

Speaking of sensory stuff, he fucking loves it when you wear his blindfold. Blocking your vision, you can only feel his touches and not see them

He cums so much, everywhere all the time. His favorite place to cum has to be all over your face. Have you sucking him off, but before he cums he pulls out and jerks it a few times before painting your face with his seed. It’s so hot to him, seeing you covered in it

He might even take a picture if you let him. He’s really into picture/video taking, just to have for himself. Whenever your not there, he can pull out his file of lewd photos and videos of you two

He is soooo vocal. He’s loud and his moans are whiny. He doesn’t hold back though, he has no shame. Matter of fact he wants everyone to know what you do to him

Speaking of, he’s a bit of a risk taker. He’s not past sneaking into a changing room for you to help him with the boner he got looking at you in those clothes

While he may cum fast, he can still last several rounds without break. He is the strongest, after all

Loves oral giving and receiving because it’s so messy. He loves it when your drooling all over his cock, or when his chin is covered in your slick

He’s a switch, but when he’s on bottom he’d moan if you step on his cock. Such a slutty submissive, and a brat too. He’d do things to get you angry so you punish him for it later <3

Definitely has considered 3somes with geto, but never brought it up

I can see him being into roleplay

He’s not insanely girthy, but he is LONGG and pretty. Has a cute curve at the end that’s perfect for you

He loves fucking your tits

His fingers are slim and long, and when he fingers you he will make you see stars

Thinks it’s so hot when he gets you to squirt

Somno with consent

If you need to be clean right that moment he will do so, but aftercare with him usually he prefers to cuddle up and sleep then clean up in the morning

Nanami

Such a service dom. He’s a provider, and that nature sticks in the bedroom. He lives to please you, and will make you cum several times before even freeing his cock from his tight pants

He would definitely dabble in bdsm. Specifically, what he enjoys is bondage and brat taming

With bondage, he has it all. It may be a small fluffy pair of handcuffs binding your wrists behind your back, two a sturdy rope tying your ankles and wrists to the corner of the bed, to full on shibari, ropes all over your body

Absolutely uses his tie and/or belt to bind you

Brat taming was something you insisted, and when he tried it he found out he got a kick out of it too. It started with you teasing him all day, and when you begged him to be rough with you and put you in your place who is he to deny you?

Both kinks are done with upmost gentleness and care. Of course. He may also engage in light impact play, small spanks on your ass and even your clit. Nothing enough to hurt, just a little love tap to startle you

His hands drive you insane. His hands are so big, they wrap perfectly around your wrists, neck, hips, waist, etc. they also reach all the parts inside you just the way you like

While he often takes the leading role, he’s not opposed to letting you ride him to get yourself off when he doesn’t have the energy

He’s not very loud, mostly grunts and quite muffled moans come from him

So much praise. He’s constantly reassuring you through the whole ordeal, calling you beautiful, gorgeous, how well your doing, how good you are for him, etc

He would degrade you if you really wanted. Again, you’d have to tell him because he wouldn’t ever say such things to you but when your begging him to say mean things to you, he’s nothing but a pleaser

Cockwarming is a big turn on. He’s a busy man, so when he has work to do but you wanna get off, he will let you sit on his cock

Similarly, he also likes watching you ride his thigh. Your wet pussy grinding up and down on his clothed leg does something to him

Aftercare god. As soon as you guys are done he’s running a bath, carrying you to it, washing you off as you just lay back. After he drys you off, he’s carrying you back to the bed and wrapping you with his arms

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pinksturniolo · 19 days

Note

Ok, I have this amazing idea for a good smutty smutty fic!

Your bring Matt home for the first time to meet your family (parents and siblings) and you guys get board of just sitting there so you decide to go downstairs into the basement that has a ping pong table and pool table. You decide to play pool and Matt gets turned on by the way you bend over the table and hit the ball (if that make sense lol) and then you guys ykw on the pool table while your family is upstairs.

8 Ball - Matt Sturniolo Blurb

wow that’s a really good prompt lol thank you anon!! hope you enjoy it <3

content warnings: smut, raw sex, sneaking around, etc.

a/n: i don’t know too much about pool so sorry if the explanation of the game is weird 💀

Matt puts a hand on your thigh under the table, giving a reassuring squeeze. Your leg has been bouncing nonstop with nervousness for the past 5 minutes since you guys have arrived. You smile at him, holding his hand and he winks at you, continuing the conversation with your parents while they ask him about work.

You and Matt drove down to Plymouth over the weekend so he could meet your parents and siblings for the first time. You were from Boston like Matt, but your family had a vacation home on the coast, and it was a summer tradition to spend time here, enjoying the beach and sunshine.

You had recently hit the 6 month mark of the relationship, things starting to get more serious between you two. Just last month, you had met his parents which was terrifying but went really well. Which is why you’re not sure how you were so nervous about him meeting yours, but Matt has been nothing but supportive, always finding ways to keep you calm.

The rest of the night goes great, lots of laughter being shared while everyone eats dinner and by the time desert comes out, you’re starting to feel a little bored with socializing and slightly tipsy from the bottle of wine you and Matt split.

Matt takes notice from the way you stopped engaging in the conversations, a small yawn escaping your mouth as you draw mindless circles on his arm. His hand is rested on your thigh again, his thumb rubbing back and forth over your bare skin.

He loved when you wore sundresses, not only because you looked so good in them, but also because it showed off your smooth long legs which he was obsessed with running his hands over, and pressing his lips to the soft plush of your inner thighs. Not to mention the easy access, the way he could just lift the dress up when he was behind you and pull your panties down, slipping his cock inside you with ease.

“Matt.” you whisper in his ear, breaking him out of his thoughts. “You wanna go somewhere? I’m so bored.”

Everyone seems preoccupied in their own conversations, having already asked Matt every possible question they could. He nods and rubs your shoulder, setting his napkin on his plate. “Sure baby.”

You both excuse yourselves from the table and an idea pops into your head as you lead Matt inside the house, to the game room downstairs.

“Remember how you said you wanted to teach me to play pool?” you ask him, a playful smile on your face as you grab his hand, walking down the staircase.

“No way. You guys have a pool table?” he says.

“Yup. And a ping pong table. And shuffleboard.” you reply and he laughs, thrusting his fist in the air cheerfully as you enter the game room, the large felt green table in the center.

He closes the door behind him as you walk up to the table, grabbing the pool stick. The balls are already arranged in the middle as you remove the holder and stand at the side, awkwardly holding it.

Matt tries to hide his laugh as he watches you attempt to figure out the right way to hit the ball, missing each time as the stick slips through your fingers.

“Uh, a little help here please?” You ask, looking at him with frustration when he finally moves towards you, chuckling as he takes the pool stick from you.

“You gotta hold it the right way sweetheart. Here, let me show you.” he says, standing behind you now and placing the stick back in your hand. He places his hand on your back, softly pushing you forward so you bend over the table.

He leans over you and helps you position your hand correctly, the end of the stick slotting between your fingers. Then he angles your elbow on your other arm, speaking into your ear, his warm breath on your neck.

The feeling of your ass pressed against his crotch gets his blood pumping, and it takes everything in him to not grind himself against you to relieve some of the tension in his jeans.

“Okay, now you’re good. Go ahead baby.” he says.

He stand us straight as you hit the balls, the stick gliding easily through your fingers now. You smile widely and turn around to hug him quickly, now eager to start the game.

However, it’s not even halfway through before Matt is losing his self control, watching you bend over each time it’s your turn. Your dress rides up, showing him your ass cheeks and getting a peek of your baby pink underwear. He’s not even trying to win, hitting the ball lazily, keeping his eyes on you and how good you look.

Matt has been nothing but respectful since arriving in your parent’s vacation home but right now all he can think about is bending you over the table, snatching your dress up and having his way with you.

It’s your turn once more when you feel Matt suddenly push up against you, running his large hands down your back and leaning down to press soft kisses on your bare shoulder.

“Matt… what are you doing?” You whine, unable to help the way you sigh as you feel his lips suck lightly on your neck.

He doesn’t answer, instead he trails his mouth down the nape of your neck and the back of your shoulders, leaving goosebumps on your skin. His hands are all over you, gripping your hips as he presses his hardness against your ass, grinding onto you.

“Fuck…” you breathe out, feeling yourself getting increasingly wet from the way he’s touching and kissing you. Matt hums against your skin, lifting up your dress and yanking your underwear down.

“Baby! Don’t you want to finish the game?” you yelp in shock. “Fuck the game.” he responds and runs his fingers through your pussy, spreading your arousal and reaching down to rub your clit.

You moan loudly and he grips your neck with his other hand, leaning his head down to whisper in your ear. “You can’t be loud, sweetheart. Save that for later. Right now, I need you to be a good girl and stay quiet for me. Okay?”

You nod, and he wastes no time unzipping his jeans and pulling his painfully hard dick out of his boxers, rubbing it through your folds a few times before pushing himself inside you.

You grip onto the edge of the table, arching your back and biting into your bottom lip to keep the moans in that threaten to spill from your mouth.

“Shit baby… always so fucking tight for me…” He groans, throwing his head back and gripping your hips tightly, your dress still bunched up around your waist as he thrusts into you at a good pace, his balls clapping against your skin.

Your heart races at the fear that you both could be caught any second, Matt fucking you while you’re bent over the pool table. But it feels way too good to stop and you have every intention of cumming around his cock before you leave this room.

Matt’s panting and groaning as quietly as he can behind you, his hips slamming into yours. You let him take complete control, your ass bouncing against him with each thrust.

Your little whimpers and muffled moans have him throbbing inside you, sweat building on his forehead as he’s already getting close from the quick pace he’s been keeping.

“Fuck Matt, I’m so close. You feel so fucking good.” you breathe out, feeling yourself clench around him, wetness dripping down your thighs.

He suddenly flips you around and picks your hips up so you’re on top of the table now. You gasp and throw your arms around his neck as he thrusts himself back into you at an unforgiving pace.

“I wanna see your pretty face when you cum baby.” he says, one arm around you, holding you close while he reaches down with his other hand, massaging fast circles on your clit.

You moan against his mouth, your fingers in a death grip on his hair as you feel your legs shake around his hips, your orgasm hitting you. He cums shortly after, releasing inside you, his thrusts now stuttered and uneven.

You both struggle to catch your breath, panting against each other as he finally pulls out, kissing you sweetly.

“Why do I get the feeling this was apart of your plan all along huh? You knew what you were doing pushing your ass out like that.” Matt says, a smirk on his face as he tucks himself back into his pants.

You pull your underwear back on, a playful look in your eyes. “I just knew I had to get you in here once I remembered we had a pool table.” You admit and he laughs, grabbing your hand to help you off. “Naughty girl.”

taglist <3

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#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo oneshots #arisanons #matt sturniolo blurb

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ageofevermore · 1 year

Text

DRUNK ON YOU

SUMMARY — after a night out with natasha and maria, wanda intends on getting what she wants from you

WARNINGS — smut 18+ only, hair pulling, finger sucking, praise, slight slight degradation, also very very slight dom/sub dynamics, fingering… i think that covers it all but it’s very mild in everything

AUTHORS NOTE — @family-house-of-m requested spicy fluff with the prompt “i really like you” so that’s what she got… hopefully it doesn’t suck too bad and if it does, we’re all going to collectively agree i never wrote this!

The blinds were pulled shut, encapsulating the room in near complete darkness save from the candle burning on her bedside table that smelled of firewood and sweet vanilla nectar. You can hear her rustling through drawers in the bathroom, a very dim touch of yellow slipping out from beneath the crack in the door. The faucet turns on after she’s found whatever she needed, and then a string of curses. A snicker climbs your throat like a ladder, your head cocking toward the bathroom entryway in peaked curiosity and amusement.

A countdown begins in your head, anticipating for her to appear in the yellow lighting, dressed in a deep frown. It's at three that she does appear, wet brown hair sticking to her cheeks and holding her single pointer finger to her chest in dramatic dejection. Her bottom lip quivers in a forced pout; her attempt at earning your pity. You cock an eyebrow, not at all sympathetic. She huffs, shuffling toward the bed that you continue to lay unmoving in.

Despite the heavy covers overtop of your body, she plops herself into your embrace, slightly wet skin illuminated by the dim candlelight. Droplets gather closer to her hairline, racing down her porcelain skin when she doesn’t wipe them away immediately. One arm locks around your neck, dragging you closer to her. The headboard digs into your back noticeably, but you don’t shift in any direction. She’ll have to work for what she wants.

“And what happened this time, baby?” You tease, letting go of the balled up comforter and settling your hands on her instead. You snake them beneath the black t-shirt she’s clad in, finding not a trace of material as a second barrier. It flusters you immediately, but you can’t allow her the satisfaction of noticing. This is her game. This had been her game since you came home from dinner with Nat and Maria. You rub at the skin of her hips, only ever letting your fingers brush the curve of her ass. Nowhere farther, and nowhere deeper.

“I pinched my finger in the cap of your face wash. It's your fault.” She whines, bringing her finger away from her chest for the first time since coming out of the bathroom, to instead wave it in your face. The skin is slightly pink, and slightly hard to see in the darkness of your bedroom, but you feign sympathy all the same.

Your brow quirks, your sweet erubescent lips creating a puckered pout that's intoxicating. She draws in a breath that she tries to conceal, only it's far too late by time she realizes her lapse in sadness. You suppress a smirk and a tease at her slipup, just squeezing the flesh of her hips. “Oh, it was my fault, was it?” You tug her closer to you, and allow the gentle gasp that follows to be like music to your ears as she drags against the fabric of the bed covers.

“Yes.” Something shifts, something becomes heavy, like you’re reminded of your place, but it doesn’t dissuade you from keeping up your disinterested front. You’re far too stubborn to let it all go so quickly. “Kiss it better.” She huffs, placing her finger just out of reach of your lips, waiting.

You pause for a moment, a smirk ghosting over your features. You look younger this way, in this lighting, in her arms. She’s in love with this carefree side of you that is protected by walls even with your closest friends. The words fall from your lips so easily, she knows you didn’t truly need that second to think, and it only adds to the game the both of you are caught up in. “Why should I?”

Her eyes darken, even just the slightest bit, but it lights a fire in your belly that she’s been feeling for hours. “Because I said so.”

“I suppose that’s a good enough reason.” You kiss the soft skin of her finger, eyelids fluttering at just how close she’s suddenly become. Your resolve is crumbling, and she can tell. She’s winning by a landslide. Her skin is icy, like it always is, and to your surprise, while you're distracted, her other hand tangles into your head and tugs your head back. An audible moan parts your lips enough for her to slip her finger inside, and it's a struggle to even keep your eyes open enough to look up at her through your lashes.

“You suppose?” She taunts, her voice heavy and seductive. She has you right where she wants you, and there's nothing you can do about it as the weight of her unmoving finger is heavy on your tongue and clouds your mind and judgment. You're putty in her hands. “Wanna try that again, Malysh?”

With your mouth full, you mumble an almost incoherent disagreement. She smirks, pulling her finger away from your wanting lips and then retracting her touch all together. You whine at the loss of touch, reaching for her back before your hands are batted away and she shimmies the t-shirt off of her body. The covers go with her top, and when she’s back in your lap, it’s bare skin on cotton shorts.

“I think you’re a little overdressed for the occasion, wouldn’t you agree?” Wanda teases, the raspy edge to her words completely eradicating any coherent thoughts you had remaining. You nod in agreement, but its not enough for her, you’ve wound her up so horribly she’s absolutely buzzing to break you in and break you down. “Uh uh.” She stops you, “Words.”

The room is suddenly a couple hundred degrees and even in candlelight you're sure the pink to your cheeks is visible from three towns over. Swallowing dryly, you respond the way she wants, “Y-Yes.”

“I think we should do something about that.” She’s undressing you as quickly as you shoved her out the door earlier, and it gives you no time to catch up with her chilly hands.

“Lift your hips.” She demands. Your shorts and underwear are discarded onto the floor in a pile beside your top and hers easily, and then she’s getting to work on your unmarked skin thats warm and blushing. “You’ve been naughty. Haven’t you?” She mumbles from her place in your neck, and the vibrations of her words tickle you enough to have you shifting. “Stay still.”

“W-We had plans!” You tried to argue just as her teeth sunk into the softest spot of your neck just behind your ear, and a guttural whine interrupts you from making any solid arguments, not that she’d listen. She needed you then, and she certainly needed you now.

“Maria and Nat would’ve understood. How many times have they kept us waiting?” She reminds you, easing you farther down the bed so your back is away from the headboard and against the soft pillows you have piled up. Your back arches into her touch when her kisses begin to collect lower and lower until she’s eyesight with your breasts and looking dangerous.

“Please, Wands.” You pant, arching your chest impossibly close to her mouth. Your body is both on fire and a puddle, a feeling only she’s ever been capable of provoking.

“Oh, now you want it, huh?” A cocky smirk pulls away the frown that was once embedded into her features, and she lapse a teasing lick to your right nipple the pebbles instantaneously. Kitten licks do you no service and she’s aware. It’s not about your pleasure, this is about her revenge. You’ll learn your lesson by the time she’s done with you tonight, that is if you ever get anything more than this.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I p-promise-” Her lips attach to your sensitive buds maliciously, tugging with her teeth and then soothing with her tongue in rhythmic intervals. When she’s not focusing on one with her tongue, the other is being twisted and tugged so beautifully it drives you further to being undone by her. So easily can she be your undoing, but still her pace is painstaking and there's greater need to be dealt with. “Please.” Your legs rub together, and you're craving some friction where you need her most.

“Knock it off.” She warns, finally coming up for air and pulling your legs apart before you can feel any kind of relief. The pressure in your belly is building, and you're preparing to explode if she doesn’t touch you soon. She sits back on her heels, letting her fingers dance up your legs and back down, getting nowhere close to where you ache for her. You huff in frustration, whining for her. “You’re glistening, baby.”

“Shut up.” You mumble in embarrassment, pinching your eyes shut when her fingers ghost over your heat just long enough to collect a sample of your anticipation on her fingers. You can hear her licking her fingers clean of you, and the moan she allows herself to produce is chilling. “Wanda. Please. Stop being mean.”

“Being mean? Is that what you want, baby?” She teases, her damp fingers going straight back to the source with less care of being gentle. She eases two inside of you with little resistance, though the initial stretch makes your eyes water momentarily. A pathetic gasp is like a symphony, and she twists them at just the right angle to hear it again, but then she freezes. Her fingers still and she leans closer to your face, eyes shining mischievously. “Are you gonna rush me to dinner, again?”

“No! No! I promise. I p-promise! Please just move! Please!” You beg, your resolve completely crumbling as you lay beneath her. Her lips brush yours for the first time, and you can taste yourself on her tongue as she fights for dominance and wins easily. There’s no fight left in you, you just need her.

“Good girl.”

‧ ⁺ ⋆◞

She rolls the both of you over in bed, allowing her back to be flush against the damp bedsheets. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, and there's an almost angelic blush settling in on her cheeks as she tries to catch her breath. Her flustered state is addictive, and it fills your belly with so much unbearable love and admiration that you can't help the tears that cloud your vision. Your limbs ache, there are scattered purple bruises covering your skin, but she’s not much better. Like a masterpiece, perfectly sculpted, they’re reminders of her that’ll last for the next days to come.

Your head is heavy on her chest, but she doesn’t mind, instead tangles her fingers into your mess of sweaty hair, massaging your scalp earnestly. “You know, I really like you.” You giggle, nuzzling impossibly close to her, drunk on her scent and her touch. You want to feel her inside of your veins and never have to live a minute of your life without her.

She laughs softly, leaning in close to press a gentle kiss into your forehead. “I really like you too, baby.”

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff x reader #dom!wanda maximoff x reader #smut

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frankcastlescumslut · 1 year

Text

my girl

frank castle x fem!reader

word count: 3.4k

warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI!!! mentions of alcohol consumption, roleplay-ish, exhibitionism/voyeurism, mutual masturbation, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, soft dom!frank, degradation/praise kink, “daddy” and “sir”, overstimulation, squirting, breeding kink, cockwarming if you squint, little aftercare

summary: the game: no touching allowed

A/N: omg hey 🙈 it’s been a while! but I’m back! this is pure filth and I’m not ashamed! we all know Frank Castle would talk you through it!

COMMENTS/REBLOGS/LIKES ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED AND WELCOMED <;3

DONT COPY OR TRANSLATE MY SHIT.

It was one of those nights.

The kind where you and Frank attempted to pull your heads out of your asses after a shitty week and have fun for once.

He would argue that his version of fun was only found with a gun in his hand or kevlar strapped to his chest, and he truly meant it at one point, but that was before you, his girl, and he would do anything for his girl— even if it meant indulging you in your own fanatical definition of entertainment.

Your idea of fun, however, was a shitty dive bar that smelled like stale beer, wearing skimpy dresses that you found in adult stores, and pretending like you had never seen Frank a day in your life, imagining he was some hot shot trying to show you a good time.

It started off as a game. Frank didn’t get it at first, struggling with the idea that “pretending” wasn’t lying, it’s not lying, Frank. I still love you. It’s just a game, you have to convince me to come back home with you, but eventually it became a different challenge entirely— it was now healthy competition between the two of you, seeing who could last the longest without touching one another.

And it was one of those nights where you played dirty.

Wearing nothing but a silk slip that left nothing to the imagination and crotchless panties, you expertly navigated around the bar while the music bewitched you, leading you in different directions and drawing men towards your magnetic pull.

It didn’t take much for men to pay attention to you. You knew that, but more importantly, Frank knew that, and he was painfully aware of how alluring you were.

It was all fair game, and he let you have your fun, only finding comfort in knowing that he was the only one who could shove his face into your chest and cunt. That he was the only one that would take you home and pull moans out of you like it was his job. That he was the only one who could bury and empty himself into you and you would take all of it, because you were his girl.

Frank was more possessive than he led on, but it was the only consolation he had while playing your game. He ignored the few stray women that eventually found their way to him with ease. He didn’t enjoy their attention, it almost disgusted him, but he did appreciate the way your jealousy manifested itself.

You knew it was a game, that the blonde woman meant nothing to him, but the jealousy turned you into something else completely.

The envy mixed into the final swig of your drink and went down easily as it burned the back of your throat. The liquid courage warmed you enough to move, and you shuffled down from your perched stool with a fire stirring in your belly.

It wasn’t your fault that your purse conveniently fell from your shoulder, or the way your dress rose above your ass when you bent over to retrieve it, revealing your crotchless panties to the patrons of the bar. It also wasn’t your fault for the dog whistles that pierced through the music, the droopy eyed stares, or the coughing fit that Frank fell victim to as he choked on his beer.

You could practically taste victory, unable to hide the smirk that plastered against your cheeks as you collected your belongings, turning to face him. The win, however, was short lived, and your face fell when you caught his eye, unable to read his darkened expression.

Whether it was the churning alcohol or growing need between your thighs, you found the confidence to hold his gaze, paying attention to the way he slammed his beer back.

Fuck.

The game was over, that much was clear, and your heart hammered against your chest. Maybe you had gone too far this time. Maybe the panties were too much. Maybe he would understand if you apologized and forfeited this time. Maybe—

Fuck.

For a moment, you swore you faced the Punisher. He grew in size and stature, towering over you as he straightened, the random woman falling off of him in return. He was unreadable, almost threatening, but his façade flickered as he subtly nodded towards the door.

Fuck.

The tension was palpable. It practically trailed your wobbly stride as you found your way out of the bar, hiccuping down your anxiety. Frank followed your lead, silently stalking behind you. His presence was looming, and the silence was baiting your wanton anticipation.

“Frank,” you broke character, turning to face him.

His stride never faltered, and he beat you to the truck. “Frank, wait.”

“Ladies first.” The truck door swung open with a creak as Frank all but pulled it from its hinges, eager to usher you into your place.

You must’ve looked uneasy, tottering on the balls of your feet, and he took note of your lip tucked between your teeth.

“It’s okay,” he reassured you with a wink, holding out his hand to help you into your seat.

Yellow street lights hid the warmth in your cheeks as you softened beneath Frank’s gentleness, and you couldn’t help but hide a smirk as you made a final attempt to claim the last word at your own game.

The hem of your dress tickled the back of your thighs as you attempted to climb into the truck, only pausing to pull the rest of your dress over your hips. It was a lousy move given the circumstances— you pretending to busy yourself while exposing your dripping cunt for anyone in the parking lot to see, but you knew it would rile him up in a way that would benefit the both of you. Eventually.

“C’mon now, sweetheart,” Frank groaned at the sight before him, his own pants growing tighter while he studied the way your core glistened.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you quipped innocently. “I’m just looking for my phone.” You spread your legs ever so slightly, silently inviting him to have his way with you.

“That right?” He drew closer with slow, deliberate steps, knowing how much you enjoy the anticipation. It was exciting, and he was so close, and you were offering yourself to him, and the act was slipping…

“Cause I thought maybe it could be in here?” You jump as your purse lands in front of your face with a thud, bouncing in the driver's seat.

“Huh,” you let out an amused chuckle before Frank fit himself against your spread legs, a small gasp escaping your lips as he pressed himself into you, his bulge hitting your clit directly. “Probably is,” you whimpered, dropping your head as a silent thanks to the truck for providing a welcomed new height and angle.

“Probably is?” He questioned, his voice startling as his lips pressed against the shell of your ear. He’s careful not to kiss you fully, not wanting to break the rules of your game, and he forces his arms to land on either side of you, caging you beneath him.

You felt his chest heave against your back and you smile to yourself, relishing in your ability to unravel the Punisher, but the victory is short lived; he unfurls himself from your bent form before delicately pulling your dress back down to cover your ass.

“C’mon.” His palm landed against your supple flesh and you yelped at the unexpected contact. “Let me take you home.”

“I win!” You exclaimed, nearly hitting your head on the inside of the truck.

“What?” He cocked his head to the side with a loose smile.

“I win!” You twisted in your seat to face him, your smile radiating in the dark. “You touched me first. I win.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He playfully shut the door in your face and you laugh, watching his lip curl into a smile as he fakes his own disappointment.

The door to your bedroom thudded against your weight, the doorknob rattling as you blindly maneuvered your way into your room.

“Frank,” you moaned into his mouth, pulling him impossibly close while stumbling towards your bed. The mattress dipped below your combined weight, Frank hovering over your sprawled frame.

Your hands traveled the length of his body, studying every contour of muscle like you would lose him if he pulled away. “Touch me,” you whispered, catching him by surprise.

“Aht aht,” he laughs into your neck at your demand, his lips attaching to your steady pulse. “You know the rules, babydoll. You gotta finish first before I can touch you.”

“But,” you attempt to refute your own rules.

“You wanna act like a big girl? You can make yourself cum.” He places deliberate kisses down your neck, taking extra care to suck on your delicate skin. “You can do that for me, can’t you?”

It was so patronizing, the condescension sweet and sticky and so contrasting from the way he cradled your head, stroking your hairline before planting a kiss to your temple.

“Yes sir,” you submit willingly, whining when he peels himself away from you.

“Atta girl, you can do it,” he encourages you before settling on his side, adjusting comfortably into your mattress.

His eyes widened as you lifted yourself from the bed, pulling the billowy silk off of your frame before throwing it in his direction. You played into your short-lived victory, tracing your fingertips alongside the curves of your body and cupping your breasts together, letting a moan escape as your fingers brushed your hardened nipples.

It was obvious your ministrations affected Frank, and you watched as he pulled at his jeans, clearing his throat to conceal his grunt.

As much as you loved his response to your body, you can’t help but notice the way your breath catches in your throat while you watch him palm himself through the rough denim. It was a silent invitation for you to do the same, finally realizing how agonizing the ache in between your thighs had grown.

The elastic band of your barely there panties hadn’t made it around your fingers before Frank interrupted.

“Leave 'em on,” he huffed a laugh. “Ain’t hiding shit anyway.”

Your cheeks flushed at his enthusiasm, and you sheepishly found your place on the bed, your bare back resting against the headboard. It was only then when you realized how exposed you truly were, and you pressed your thighs together for some semblance of modesty.

“What’s the matter?” he teased. “You nervous or somethin’?”

“Mhm,” you nod your head, stifling a moan when your thighs instinctively clench together, adding just enough pressure against your already sensitive clit.

“Funny,” he chuckled, “cause you sure as hell weren’t shy before.” He was right, and you knew it, your skin consequently growing warm as he spotlighted your cheap plays at winning. “So go on,” he continues, “show me how a pretty whore like you wants to be touched.”

The expletive took you by surprise, but you obeyed shamelessly. Eagerly. Spreading your legs open as an offering to the man who watched just a few feet away as your fingers dipped between your thighs, pressing gently against your clit.

“Fuck,” you moaned, your lip finding its place between your teeth.

“That feel good, sweetheart?” Frank cooed towards you, his tongue darting across his bottom lip while his eyes flash between your scrunched face and drenched fingertips.

“Yes,” you whisper.

“What was that?” He goaded.

“Yes, daddy,” you correct yourself. “Feels�� so good.”

He moaned alongside you, grunting as he pulled himself out of the confines of his pants. You watched unabashedly as he spit into his palm before pumping his already weeping cock, the sight only pushing you closer towards your orgasm.

You made no attempts at hiding your pleasure.

“Fuck,” you whined, grinding your hips as your fingers circled your clit.

“There you go, that’s it,” Frank matched your pace, stroking his length as he spurred you on. “That’s my good girl, makin’ that pussy feel so good for daddy.”

“It feels so good,” your head fell against the headboard with a thud, but you hardly noticed. His gaze felt like fire creeping up your body as he studied you with anticipation. “I’m close,” you squeaked.

“Yeah? You’re doin’ so good, pretty girl,” he praised.

Your fingers worked tirelessly as you chased the familiar feeling, and you held your breath as the pressure grew.

“Attagirl, look at you. Just like that,” he bit his own lip while fisting his cock. “Be a good girl and cum for me.

“I’m gonna cum,” you croak out, too busy concentrating on the budding climax to notice the way Frank savored your rising chest and your fingers working your dripping cunt.

“That’s it, cum for daddy.”

It was overwhelming and you were unprepared for his attention, all but crying out as he expertly ran a thick finger between your folds before plunging into you. He hooked himself to your core while manually pulling your orgasm from your body, never breaking a steady rhythm.

“Fuck, don’t stop!” Your body stiffened and you held onto Frank’s forearm as your pleasure uncoiled and gushed from your core.

There was no time to process what happened or to even catch your breath; he clasped onto your ankles, pulling you closer to him before he delved into your wetness, collecting all of you on his tongue, suctioning his lips around your swollen clit.

“Frank!” you jumped at the sensitivity.

“Taste so good sweetheart,” he adjusted accordingly, continuing his languid strokes and moaning into the taste of your pussy.

You can’t help but ride out your high and grind against his tongue as he laps up the remnants of your orgasm, shuddering at each flick of his tongue against your clit.

It was too much and not enough all at the same time. He was close, but you needed him closer.

“I want you,” you reached down, pulling him to your lips. He moaned as your teeth nipped and sucked at his lower lip, savoring the taste of your arousal.

“What’s that?” He baited you, all but ripping his clothes from his body.

“I, fuck-“ you moaned as he lightly tapped his heavy cock against your swollen nub before trailing himself through your folds. “I want you, Frankie.”

“You do?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“I don’t really believe you, sweet girl,” he softened ever so slightly at the name, and you almost believed he would be merciful and indulge you, but his jaw tightened and his expression hardened in front of you. “Beg for it.”

Although deserved, it was a cruel, cruel punishment.

“I want you to fuck me,” you began, jutting your hips towards his cock sliding against you. “I want you to use me.”

He moaned at that— the way you submitted yourself to him, spreading your legs further apart to tease him into submission, waiting for him to break.

“I want you to fill me up and make me yours,” you snaked your hand between your bodies and guided his cock into your drenched cunt.

A hiss filled the room as he buried himself into you in one motion, and you groaned at the sudden sensation. He met your every need and ache, leaving you breathless and with double vision. Completely entranced by the delicious fullness.

“This what you wanted?” He growled into your ear, his body hovering over yours as he thrusted with precision. “Wanted me to use you like a good little slut?”

Your response was guttural, and you grabbed onto any part of him, pulling him in for more, more, more.

“Feels so fuckin’ good,” his lips brushed the soft curve of your neck. “Like that pussy was just made for me, ain’t that right?”

Of course it was right, every fiber of your being screamed out for him. He was insatiable, and it would never be enough.

“S-so good,” you stuttered through chattering teeth, attempting to focus your gaze on his face. “Feels so good, you feel so good.”

“God, look at you,” he cooed. “Already fucked out, huh? Have you had enough, sweetheart?”

You almost said yes; each thrust of his hips was a coordinated attack against your g spot, and you were debilitated, barely able to conjure words, let alone sentences.

“No,” you mustered. “Need you to use me, please.”

His brows creased together, your request causing him to teeter towards his own pleasure.

“You’re doin’ so good for me. Takin me like such a good girl,” he spit on his fingers before rubbing circles over your clit. “Want you to cum with me. Can you do that?”

“Mhm,” you didn’t think it was possible, but dammit you would try. You squeezed your eyes shut, attempting to draw the scattered pieces of your brain together to revel in his movements, becoming pliable in his hands.

“That’s it,” he grunted, enjoying the sight of his length disappearing into your dripping pussy. “Takin’ me so well, that’s my girl.”

You moaned at his praise, relishing in the way he claimed you both physically and verbally. He knew you were close, and you knew he was closing in on his precipice. He could feel the way you pulsed around him, beckoning his own release, and he gave into you completely.

“Cum for me, daddy.”

It came out so sweet he thought he imagined it.

“Keep talkin’ like that and I will,” he squeezed his eyes shut as if it would prolong the pleasure.

“Cum in my pussy, please. I need you.” You whimpered as you replaced his fingers with your own, chasing your own release while cupping his neck to bring his lips to yours. “So close,” you whined.

“‘Want daddy to fill that pretty pussy up, hm?” He mumbled into your open mouth.

“Yes sir.”

You were so close. It was right there.

“Be a good girl and cum with me.”

The room erupted in a cacophony of moans and you were sure flames had licked your skin. Your thighs shook against their will as your orgasm rolled over you, radiating between your bodies.

“Attagirl, there it is.” Frank admired the way your body responded to him, the way you clung to him while your eyes rolled back and your mouth hung agape. You were so beautiful sprawled out, and he gripped onto your fleshy hips, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

“Fuck!” He groaned into the side of your neck as you pulsed around him, his thrusts growing sloppy before he spilled into you.

There was a moment of clarity between your blissful haze where you became aware of his presence, and the incessant need to have him closer overshadowed everything.

“So good,” you cupped his face, ignoring the way his stubble tickled your palms before pressing your trembling lips to his.

“So good,” he repeated, his nose pressing into yours while your lips met. “Did so good for me.”

He carefully pulled himself from you, never breaking the kiss even as you hissed. He simply ran a large hand along your head before looking over you.

“You okay sweetheart?”

You gave a drowsy, heavy-lidded smile with a shaky thumbs up from beneath him and he chuckled before placing a chaste kiss along your sternum and settling on top of you.

The added weight was welcomed and comforted you, acting as some grounding agent to bring you back together. It was the same for Frank; he clung to you, his arms wrapping around your fleshy frame while his fingertips pressed into you, memorizing each curve and contour of your body.

You followed suit, running your fingertips along the lines of muscles and splatters of raised scars before lazily squeezing him. He hummed when you grazed your nails along his scalp and nestled into your chest accordingly.

“I’m sorry for earlier,” you sleepily confess.

“Don’t worry bout it.”

“You’re not upset?”

“Nah.” His eyes remained closed, much to your confusion.

You were quiet for a moment, not fully understanding his answer. He knew you were quizzical. He didn’t need to look at you to know your face was scrunched and your eyebrows creased while you attempted to do the mental math behind his answer.

“Ain’t mad cause you’re my girl,” he beat you to it. “Unless you got somethin’ to tell me.” You could feel his smile against your chest.

“No I don’t,” you relaxed. “I’m your girl.”

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