#bj fanfic
Link
Chapters: 1/?
Fandom: Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King, Beetlejuice - All Media Types
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Beetlejuice/Lydia Deetz, Beetlejuice & Lydia Deetz
Characters: Beetlejuice (Beetlejuice), The Maitlands (Beetlejuice), Charles Deetz, Delia Deetz, Adam Maitland, Barbara Maitland, Lydia Deetz
Additional Tags: beetlebabes, Musicalbabes, Beetlejuice The Musical, Post-Musical happenings, Canon Compliant - Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King, beetlejuice broadway - Freeform, Beardlejuice is here to stay baby, Friends to Lovers, Complicated Relationships, No beta because I’m shy
Summary:
Six months following the events of the musical, the wedding of Charles and Delia is fast approaching. Lydia is determined to find a way for Adam and Barbara to participate in the celebrations both in AND out of the house.
While trying to balance her new life, the demon of Lydia’s past returns…literally.
Maybe Beetlejuice can help the situation. Or maybe Lydia will end up in a situation all of her own.
#beetlebabes#beetlejuice the musical#beetlejuice#lydia deetz#the maitlands#beetlejuice fanfic#beetlejuice broadway#beetlejuice bway#charles deetz#delia#adam maitland#barbara maitland#musicalbabes#bj fanfic#ao3#beetlejuice the musical fanfic#beetlejuice fanfiction#beetlejuice x lydia
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I Was Thinking About Your Mouth
Read on Ao3
Whole fic complete and on Ao3, 31.5k, 5 chapters, rated E.
In the early hours of a mellow May night, TK Strand wakes Carlos Reyes and proposes to him. A baffled Carlos initially starts to talk TK down – as if assuming he might not mean it. This is the story of why.
Or, 4 times TK accidentally proposed because Carlos is spectacular with his mouth, +1 time he genuinely proposed because Carlos is spectacular with his heart.
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He’s smug when he enters him. He gets to be. No finger-stretch is quite enough for Carlos’ thickness, and TK grits his teeth at the exquisite burn – so familiar, yet always a shock. Carlos catches TK’s mouth with his as he opens wide, his head tipping back. Carlos licks at TK’s lips, his tongue, his teeth. He loves the way he can make TK’s mouth open with words or make it open with silence. He can make TK’s mouth open like he can’t open it wide enough to get all the air he needs, or to let out the moan trapped around his heart. He loves TK’s mouth so much, he just has to kiss it, even if TK’s mind has bent sideways and he doesn’t have the wherewithal to kiss him back right now. On his desk at work, Carlos keeps a picture of TK grinning beautifully. It’s his favourite thing. That smile, that mouth. He thinks about it all the time.
Chapter 1: What Are you Thinking? - It’s fall 2020, TK Strand and Carlos Reyes are now boyfriends officially. And TK is maybe a little bit too excited about it.
Chapter 2: It's Our Dining Room Now, TK - In 2021, TK is very happy with his new roomie. A confused Carlos finds the people he can turn to. Or maybe they find him.
Chapter 3: Kiss Your Head - Valentine’s Day 2022. TK is recovering from a coma and he and Carlos are finding their way back together after their four-month split. When Carlos drops into the hospital for a visit, certain words are exchanged.
Chapter 4: I'm Not a Very Good Talker - April 2022. Carlos is jealous that TK is spending so much time with his sponsor. However, there is something Carlos can do for TK that nobody else can, even if it causes TK to say something he shouldn’t.
Chapter 5: A Thousand Times Yes, Yes, Yes! -May 2022. TK has a question for Carlos.
Read on Ao3
Thank you fabulous @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut for the beta and @lemonlyman-dotcom for being my emotional support American.
#I Was Thinking About Your Mouth#BJ Fic#This one is smutty lads#Thank you for reading if you do - I hope you enjoy it!#And so much fun to write#cig fic#my fic#tarlos fanfic#tarlos fic#tarlos#tk stand x carlos reyes
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Fly on the Wall
PAIRING: yan!timeskip!Sakusa Kiyoomi x fem!reader
GENRE: smut | dark content (18+)
Minors DNI
TAGS + WARNINGS: yandere themes, noncon, stalking, somnophilia, semi-public masturbation (m), nipple play, fingering (with leather gloves), dacryphilia, cum eating, creampie, size kink, breaking and entering, panty stealing, basically Sakusa is a perv
Let me know if I missed anything.
WORD COUNT: 8.7k
SUMMARY: The new Black Jackal’s manager catches Sakusa’s eye. Unfortunately, whatever distance, physical or otherwise, is between you two, is too far for his liking. All characters are 18+
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Not meant to be a Christmas gift, but my timing does wonders, I guess :/
© creative-crybaby, do not repost or modify
The Black Jackals getting a manager didn’t excite him the way it did his teammates. The idea itself didn’t bring him dread, of course, but the knowledge that certain players may get distracted–or worse: rowdier–brought more stress to him than he’d appreciate.
Bokuto and Hinata were already babbling on to each other about what you might be like, reminiscing their high school days when they both had two managers on their respective teams. Atsumu joined in, whining that Inarizaki wasn’t as lucky to have a girl manager, let alone two attractive ones. He also bet that you’d be cute—Sakusa could only roll his eyes at the exchange.
You carried yourself with a grace often unfound in volleyball when meeting the team, offering a polite smile as you introduced yourself. Even when bombarded with questions from the boisterous ones (you know the ones), you didn’t falter, even assuring Meian that you didn’t mind the energy: “It’s nice to know I’ll be supporting a passionate team.”
Pretty, Sakusa thinks. You didn’t blow him away, but it was enough for him to acknowledge upon first laying eyes on you. Even he found himself momentarily frozen when you two made brief eye contact.
Regardless, you’re not here for a modelling contract; you’re here to help the team grow to its full potential. The wing spiker may not be praying for your downfall, but he certainly isn’t going to celebrate your arrival too soon, either.
Anyone can refill water bottles and hand out clean towels to sweaty giants. The same goes for taking notes on their progress, especially since you should know how volleyball works. From what Sakusa has observed, you do more than well in that department, too, always ready to correct someone’s form or have a report prepared for Meian in no time. You’re organized, punctual; it helps that you also sprinkle in some encouraging words when necessary. (Certain members are more than happy to gain that praise, which means more headaches on the ravenette’s end.)
It doesn’t take long for you to get him to accept you into the team—in his own way. He doesn’t avoid you like the plague, per se; he merely never saw any reason to put in as much effort to get to know you the way someone like Bokuto or Atsumu would. He was just glad to have one more person to give him some proper feedback.
That distance Sakusa created is seemingly one-sided. There’s no special occasion, either: it was after a practice that partook a few days after a game against the Tachibana Red Falcons. A close match where the Black Jackals managed to pull through, though that wasn’t precisely what consumed the wing spiker’s thoughts at the time. You handed him a neatly folded towel during the athletes’ break, and he nods his thanks. You stay before him, and he peers up at you curiously after wiping his face. Stretching your hand to him, you carry a mini hand sanitizer pack. Nothing special: it’s a standard bottle in a dark red and attachable case.
“Noticed you weren’t a fan of the gifts from some of your fans and would look grossed out when a kid would touch you,” you explain, offering a small smile. “Hope you don’t already have one of these. This was the only normal-looking one I could find. Wasn’t sure how you’d feel about having a giraffe case dangling from your bag.”
You offer a sheepish laugh that Sakusa would refuse to admit is something he’d want to hear again. Not wanting to leave you hanging any longer than he already has, he takes your gift, eventually muttering his thanks.
It’s like a boy clinging onto that one compliment he got a few years back because it’s all he received. A rational voice in his head dismisses your observation as something someone on the team probably mentioned to you—maybe Atsumu made a joke about him being a germaphobe, and you took it seriously.
Still, that’s not a possibility the wing spiker wants to entertain. Not as he goes on with the rest of practice, not when he’s in the changeroom, not when he’s attaching that case to his gym bag, not when he gets home, and certainly not when he goes to bed that night. A small gesture, one probably wouldn’t overthink, lingers in his thoughts until Occasion #2 appears.
Coming back from an away game is one of the few opportunities the volleyball players get to recharge. After packing everything into the bus, each member sits in their unassigned-assigned seat. Or, at least, most of them would. Some chose to sit wherever it was convenient for them: they wanted to carry on their conversation with one of their teammates or maybe get some shut-eye. Sakusa was the latter, opting for a window seat far away from his boisterous colleagues as possible. Ready to close his eyes, he only got a few seconds of relaxation before he sensed some shifting next to him. With furrowed brows, he opens his eyes, ready to tell Atsumu off (let’s be honest, it’s always Atsumu), only to find you making yourself comfortable in the spot next to his instead.
You turn to him somewhat sheepishly. “Hope you don’t mind. I wanted to get some rest, and you’re pretty quiet, so I figured having you as my seating buddy was my best shot.”
You don’t say anything afterwards, waiting for him to tell you to leave him alone. To his surprise (and yours, he’s sure), the wing spiker mumbles a stoic “Go ahead,” his eyes trailing towards the window as he readjusts his mask. Even with his gaze no longer on you, he could hear the smile in your voice as you thank him.
For the next several hours, Sakusa remained awake, thinking about everything and nothing all at once as he’d glance over to your sleeping form every few minutes. Even people like Bokuto and Hinata lost enough energy to fall asleep, but the ravenette didn’t notice. If anything, his entire world dissolved into nothingness as soon as your frame unconsciously leaned on his shoulder. His whole body froze, but surprisingly, not out of disgust. Awkward, perhaps, but he didn’t feel the need to wake you up, let alone push you away.
His senses heightened. With you so much closer, his eyes scanned every detail your face had to offer, every reaction you had in your sleep, from stirring after hitting a speedbump to sighing whenever Saksua dared to take a breath too deep. Speaking of breathing, even with yours being so shallow, he can hear the steady rhythm loud and clear, despite Bokuto’s snoring somewhere in the distance. Your scent attacked his nose, even with the mask shielding most of his face, and he can at least admit to himself that it was refreshing to smell something that wasn’t a bunch of sweaty athletes. It’s just your head on his shoulder, but the ravenette felt you burning your mark into his skin, one he didn’t ever want to wash off. Every sense except for taste—
A speed bump. The last thought retreated as fast as it invaded. The remaining hour and a half to return home flew by with his guilt as a distraction. Even when Atsumu woke up and teased the wing spiker for trying to get close to you, Sakusa didn’t feel the need to reply. He merely looked down at your still-sleeping form for several seconds more before eventually trying to wake you up. He’d rather he didn’t, but something about others seeing you in such a vulnerable state irked him in a way he can only describe as filthy. No amount of water and hand soap can scrub away that dirt, but as soon as your eyes opened and met his before anyone else’s, that itch got scratched. He didn’t register your profuse apologies until a couple of other teammates decided to join in on the teasing, and suddenly Sakusa found his voice.
“It’s fine.”
But it wasn’t fine. And it still isn’t. Maybe you forgot about it or saw that moment as a funny story to share over drinks with friends, but it’s different for the wing spiker. He knows it shouldn’t be, yet here he is, replaying every minor interaction between the two of you. There was a reason for him keeping his distance from you when you first started: you both stick to your tasks during practice and games, only interacting when progress and strategy are the focus. Otherwise, the athlete is back in whatever vacant corner he can find, shrinking his almost 6’’4 frame as much as he can in hopes that he can avoid possible interactions. (And if that means he gets to watch you laugh at something Atsumu said or go over strategy with Meian, then those times in his hiding spot have come with new benefits.)
But he’s not in a corner right now: he’s at Onigiri Miya with his team and EJP Raijin, eyes boring into your frame as his cousin says something he doesn’t quite catch.
The ravenette hums. “What was that?”
“Your new manager’s pretty cute and all,” Komori starts, not too loudly for others to hear, “but if you keep staring at her, you’re going to look like some creep.” Sakusa’s head snaps to the libero, who sheepishly smiles as he scratches the back of his neck. “I mean, I get that you were never all that good with girls, but even you should know this stuff by now.”
The wing spiker scoffs at his cousin’s joke, opting to take a bite out of his onigiri instead of replying. You’re listening to whatever story the blonde Miya twin has to share, laughing whenever the younger one butts in with commentary to embarrass the former. Now you watch in amusement as the two lookalikes bicker, and it makes Sakusa realize something: besides the few moments he recalls oh-so fondly, you don’t interact with each other much outside of volleyball.
He glides his thumb across the nori on his food in irritation. The moments shared between you rarely involve anything outside of the sport. For someone as observant as him, the ravenette is almost ashamed he let his very few one-on-one memories of you two distract him from such an obvious (and somewhat embarrassing) fact.
You’ve probably spent more time with a handful of his other teammates. Sakusa recalls Bokuto and Hinata inviting you to a movie marathon at the latter’s place on your day off, though through all that excitement exchanged between them, all he could do was mutter under his breath about them wasting your time. It probably doesn’t matter whether or not you accepted their offer; they still approached you.
The same goes for whatever Atsumu says to you that makes you two snicker under your breaths. Inside jokes, Sakusa is sure of it, though it doesn’t make him scoff any less. If anything, his mood grew sour with every interaction you had that wasn’t with him. Another fact he wasn’t aware of until the blonde setter asked him if the stick up his ass was bigger than it used to be. (The wing spiker’s response to the harmless joke needn’t be shared.)
“Just talk to her.” Komori’s voice brings Sakusa back to Onigiri Miya. Staring; again. Lovely. The ravenette faces his cheerful cousin once more, who offers a chuckle. “I’ll even play wingman if you want.”
The quieter of the two finishes his onigiri before getting up from his seat. The libero watches as his relative puts his MSBY jersey on before heading for the exit. “I’m good, thank you.”
The ravenette risks a glance your way once he makes it to the door. You don’t meet his gaze, still occupied with the twins. No surprise there, but that doesn’t stop the disappointment plunging into his chest as he exits the shop.
That one-sided has seemingly returned since then, though the roles are reversed. Even with the few moments exchanged between you two, Sakusa struggles to pinpoint when he started to care for your attention in the several months you’ve been part of the team. The days when he felt indifferent involved less overthinking and even lesser restless nights; now, he can’t stop nitpicking at whatever detail catches his eye. You styled your hair differently one day; you’re snacking on cheesecake-flavoured Kitkat because it’s your new favourite snack. These notes follow up with nothing on his end except an extra bullet point in his brain’s buzzing list.
It’s a winter evening when he adds his first crucial fact: your home address. An abyss swallows the sky at what seems to be only half past five. Not a usual time for practice, though nothing that disrupted Sakusa’s schedule. He’s making his way to his car when he sees you standing aside, eyes glued to your phone. A rare sight, though not an unwelcomed one.
You’re frowning, the wing spiker notices. He’s approaching you, he notices too little too late. You notice him.
“Oh, Sakusa!” you smile, pocketing your device. “Good work today.” The ravenette doesn’t need his mask to hide his contentment at your praise, though the pride that swells inside him grows challenging to swallow. “Off home to relax?”
His tongue rests between his teeth as he nods, and you hug your coat tighter to your body. His brain screams to carry on a conversation, no matter how small or meaningless, but his eyes seem to do enough as they rake through the parking lot. He’s looking for your car, he realizes, but has no clue as to what it looks like.
“Had to bus here,” you explain sheepishly. Sakusa watches you from the corner of his eye, internally sighing in relief at your (alleged) mind-reading powers. “My car needs fixing, and with practice taking place later on in the day, finding a bus worked better.” Your gaze trails to the streets only a few meters away, exhaustion making them droop. “Guess my supposed ride is being held back, huh?”
“Let me take you home.”
Your head snaps in the wing spiker’s direction, whose eyes slightly widen in shock at his proposition. Now he decides to talk. He digs his nails into the strap of his gym bag, jaw clenching as he tries to appear calm as he awaits your response.
Your brows crease ever so slightly. “I wouldn’t want to cause you any trouble.”
Your voice shrinks at your concern. Sakusa imagines you shrinking under his gaze as well. “You never cause me any trouble.”
Not how he would’ve liked to word it, but it’s too late to take it back. You beam at him, offering your thanks and letting him know you owe him as you step closer to his tall frame. He doesn’t flinch away, instead facing the parking lot once more as he chews on his bottom lip under his mask.
The car ride holds silence throughout the fifteen-to-twenty minutes on his end, with you giving the ravenette directions and discussing the team’s progress. He only offers curt nods and soft hums, not that he minds this time; your sunny tone and presence in such a closed space were more than enough for him. Besides, his brain is occupied with carrying your guidance as you get closer to your destination. Because he’s the driver, and you ought to return home safely. It’s been a long day for both of you: you’re exhausted, and you don’t hide this fact as you slump in the passenger seat and sometimes yawn.
And when you finally tell Sakusa to pull up into your driveway, he can’t help but scan your home with his eyes, wondering which windows expose which room. He sees one with lavender curtains from the interior, and he’s willing to bet that’s your bedroom.
You thank him, and the thought evaporates. He’s tongue-tied once more; he nods, unlocking the passenger door. Offering one more smile, you exit the car, and the wing spiker’s eyes bore into your frame as you walk up your porch and enter your home.
He’s backing out of the driveway when he begins to wonder if there is something different he could have done. The small talk was calming, but he found that he wanted more.
The drive back consists of Sakusa glancing over at where you sat every chance he got. He swallows harshly, fingers tapping impatiently against the steering wheel at a red light. Even with practice done a while ago, he feels hot. His clothes hug him uncomfortably, and it isn’t until his brain entertains the idea of peering down does he understand why.
He recognizes this street. The ravenette pulls over to a secluded area, quick to unbuckle his seatbelt before throwing his mask off. His chest heaves as he slowly looks down once more as if the first time was just a trick of the lights.
He’s hard. Being alone with you for less than half an hour is enough to make him fucking hard.
He’s also alone. For a second, he recalls keeping a pack of tissues in the glove compartment.
He’s also in his car. His home is not too far from yours, he noticed as you gave him directions.
You were also in his car. The passenger seat pulls Sakusa’s gaze towards it. He’s leaning into where you sat not long ago, and if he focuses hard enough, he can catch a whiff of your perfume.
His cock stirs in his slacks, and the ravenette climbs over the gear shift before his brain can reason with his body.
The passenger’s seat is still a bit warm, he notices upon making himself comfortable in his new spot. The wing spiker shakily exhales as he unzips his pants with great haste, shimmying them down to his thighs. His pace doesn’t slow down when he gets to his briefs, either, opting to tuck the waistband between his balls and dick’s base to free his shaft of its confinements. Only then does he pause, breathing still trembling as he tries to calm himself.
There’s not much time. An empty parking lot when he got there, but it won’t stay that way forever. Sakusa spits into his palm, needing some makeshift lube to start slowly stroking himself. The relief has his eyes fluttering closed and lips parting with a sigh. It isn’t long until he feels some precum sliding down from his slit, and he spreads the stickiness to help with his movements. He takes a deep breath through his nose and again catches your scent.
What if it was your hand pumping his cock instead? It should be. You’d be smiling as you do so, peering up at the wing spiker through your lashes as you ask him how he likes it. Always there to help during practice; how is this any different? You want what’s best for the team, for him. Anything for him—
Sakusa’s choking on a groan as he paints his hand and the glove compartment a creamy white. He doesn’t open his eyes until his high finally descends him back to earth, where he realizes what he’s done.
He groans, in both exhaustion and disgust from the mess in his car and thoughts. He was a teenager when he lasted this long, though the quantity of his release takes him by surprise. Has he truly been pent up for too long? Did you do this?
Sakusa’s quick to take out that tissue pack.
You thank him for the ride home once more the next time you see each other at practice. Other than that, the wing spiker continues to keep his distance. Mainly due to the shame that follows remembering what he’s done after dropping you off, but the one time you two shared eye contact for more than a few seconds when you handed him a towel during a break brought another feeling into the mix: excitement. What for, Sakusa has yet to find out. Or maybe he’s trying to avoid that explanation. Like any minute, you’ll tell him, you know, eyelids heavy as the emphasis tells him more than enough of what you’re talking about. The thought makes his lower stomach churn in an agonizing blender. Then, you’ll pull him into the storage closet, where you’ll—
Say his name. Well, no. Not you. Someone else is saying it. Again and again.
The ravenette blinks back into the real world, masking his fantasy with a blank slate for a face as he turns to look at whoever could need something from him.
“Oh, so yer awake?” Atsumu. Of course. “Still got some energy in me, and I need t’kill a bit of time. Wanna set fer ya fer a bit.”
The grin the faux blonde offers isn’t reciprocated as Sakusa notices front the corner of his eye some of his teammates entering the changeroom. A part of him wants nothing more than to follow them, the clothes clinging to his body from all the sweat making him internally recoil as he wishes for a shower. He also knows this is an opportunity to improve without you there: as much as he enjoys your presence, you become a distraction as a drawback.
The wing spiker sighs. “Only for a little bit.”
Atsumu beams at his teammate’s (albeit reluctant) acceptance, already jogging to fetch a ball to begin.
Sakusa finds his focus coming back with every spike he lands on the other side of the court, slowly but surely returning to normal. Another way to release some steam; he tries not to cringe at the memory of the other tactic from the night before.
The attempt fails as soon as you enter the gym with Meian by your side. The two of you are speaking to each other—about what, the ravenette isn’t sure. He doesn’t get a chance to listen in, anyway.
“Nice kill!” Atsumu chirps, gaining the attention of not just his teammate, but his captain and manager as well. With a final nod, you and Meian go your separate ways; him towards the changeroom and you, the other two athletes.
“Don’t push yourselves too much, guys,” you chuckle. “You already worked hard during practice. Take the time to relax as well.”
Sakusa can barely give you a nod while the setter grins at you.
“I’m gonna get cleaned up before we head out, ‘kay?” The wing spiker’s head snaps towards his teammate with a raised brow. Neither you nor the faux-blonde acknowledge his confusion.
You smile. “Take your time. I’ll just put the net and volleyballs away while you’re at it.”
Atsumu nods before slapping Sakusa’s back and jogging to the changeroom. The ravenette can only look down at a stray ball and pick it up. He remembers enjoying the silence between him and whoever he was with.
“I’ll help,” he mutters, walking away before he can witness your reaction. It’s ridiculous, like some middle school crush: wanting nothing more than to be close to you, but freezing up as soon as it happens. And he can’t avoid you forever–he doesn’t want to–because you eventually meet him at the ball cart, dropping the armful of volleyballs into it. “What was that with Miya earlier?”
His voice finds itself whenever he’d rather it didn’t. He’s curious, sure, but he didn’t need his tone to give away his distaste. He can only hope you dismiss it as Sakusa being Sakusa and nothing more.
With the small smile you give him, the ravenette is certain he’s safe. “Oh, ‘Tsumu invited me to check out this restaurant that recently opened with him after practice. Heard they made some of my favourites there, and I wanted to try them ASAP.”
Sakusa pretends that you being on a first-name basis with the setter doesn’t bother him. He doesn’t respond to your explanation and remains silent as he brings the net down with your help. The next time he acknowledges you is before he rushes to the changeroom to shower, ignoring Atsumu as they cross paths.
He’s at the wrong house.
You’d think one knew the directions to the place they called home, yes? At the very least, have an idea of the area. Yet, it’s only until your driveway makes it to his peripheral vision does the ravenette realize his mistake. And he’s just in time to watch you walk up your porch.
After another restless night, the wing spiker needed to clear his head. His home brought him no distractions, already too tidy to clean, and his mind continuously drifted away when watching recordings of volleyball matches. With a day to himself, he might as well go around town—there’s a mall not too far from his place, he recalls. It was a better attempt at keeping him occupied, though he couldn’t help it when he passed a perfume shop and wondered what scent was your favourite. Or the neighbouring lingerie store, putting whatever scandalous pieces of lace out on display, giving the athlete’s spiralling mind suggestions on what you would look best in. (White, he concluded before processing.)
He didn’t want much, nor did he need much. More or less satisfied with his purchases (and dissatisfied with failing distractions), he’s in his car, ready to head back home.
But he’s not home. Or rather, his house. The latter is a mere building; the former, a sense of comfort. And while there’s guilt bubbling in his chest, witnessing you carry on with your everyday life has him relaxing in his seat.
You were on an errand run, Sakusa observes. Groceries, from what he sees. What would you be making for dinner tonight? He’s too far away to catch what exactly is in your bags. The weather’s fallen to a frigid slumber—stew, perhaps? Or maybe you’ll make some umeboshi—those appeared to be your favourite whenever the team stopped by at Onigiri Miya. He and his teammates have had the opportunity to try some of your cooking firsthand; the ravenette is positive whatever you make will be just as delicious.
Then he remembers yesterday’s interaction, and his grip on the steering wheel tightens. Where did you two go? And when did Atsumu get so comfortable with you to take you out? You seemed content and—
And getting angry during this opportunity won’t do him any good. Surprised, Sakusa manages to calm down a little, opting to distract himself with other scenarios.
What could you two eat together? What would you serve him? He lets his thoughts waltz. The two of you share a meal after a long practice, or maybe you cook together on your day off. He’s seen a few romance movies in his life; he can imagine hugging you from behind as you prepared the food, him nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck as you both talked about whatever was on your mind. The conversation would continue as the two of you ate at the dinner table, his hand itching to find yours across from him.
And for dessert, he’d have you sitting on the kitchen counter with your legs wide open as he ravaged what’s in between them, your hands clawing at his dark curls as his greed controls his tongue. Or, maybe you’re feeling extra generous and decide to help him relax after a tiring practice, lowering to your knees to take every inch of his—
You’re struggling to open your front door. Too many bags in your hands—the wing spiker has half a mind to get out of the car and help you. As crazy as you drive him, he still has some sense to remind him that whatever excuse he has to be in your neighbourhood won’t be convincing, even from him. And with the evergrowing tightness in his pants, he has another problem he can’t hide. Worse, he doesn’t feel as bad as he used to anymore.
You finally manage to get inside, and the athlete starts the engine to find a secluded area once again.
Sakusa has to refrain from spiking the ball at the faux-blonde’s face in the following practice. A match among teammates, and noticing the setter’s little pep in his step upon entering the gym that morning had the ravenette glaring hard. A part of him was relieved being on Atsumu’s opposing team, doubting he could work alongside him for the day.
For now, the wing spiker aims his spikes at the older Miya twin. Anyone could view the action as part of his strategy; aiming for the setter to prevent them from setting is an old trick in the book, but still in the book.
“Damn it, Omi!” Atsumu exclaims in frustration after not properly receiving Sakusa’s spike. “Quit pickin’ on me! Ma arms are gonna fall off!”
A twinge of satisfaction plucks at the ravenette’s chest from the outcry, though he masks it with a huff before walking back to his position. His eyes automatically make their way to your form on a bench, keeping track of the points while scribbling some notes whenever possible. You don’t catch his gaze, seemingly occupied with whatever’s on your clipboard. The lack of attention makes Sakusa frown, as he had hoped you’d see him on his little winning streak.
It doesn’t stop him. If anything, it adds fuel to the fire, the flicker of pride from before blooming into something dangerous.
His plan doesn’t change: Atsumu will remain his target until he decides otherwise. The next time he’s given a chance to spike, his eyes make the mistake of gluing themselves to his victim. Barnes quickly steps in front of the faux-blonde’s spot, flinching from the impact but still blocking the ball perfectly.
It’s just one point, one that he can easily take back. Still, Sakusa can’t help but aim his glare at the setter on the other side of the net, something that doesn’t go unnoticed. A hand lands on the wing spiker’s shoulder, snapping him out of his spiralling daze.
“Take a seat, Sakusa.” Meian’s expression appears relaxed, though there’s a rough edge to his tone telling him it’s not a suggestion.
The bench you’re sitting on is opposite his team’s side of the court. Had that not been the case, the ravenette would try to take the opportunity to sit with you, even if words wouldn’t be exchanged. Instead, he settles onto a bench too far from you for his liking. Even if he were to try and take a peek at you, players from the other team block you from his vision, what with their constant moving.
He’s observing their movements; anyone can assume that. Sakusa can no longer remember the time he’d do something like that unless he was watching videos of matches at home. If he’s not keeping the ball in the air on his side of the court, then he’s scavenging for a chance to even be reminded of your existence: you handing the athletes water and towels, the captain calling your name to gain your attention. Anything will do. So no matter the frustration that comes with the package, he’ll find a way to catch you.
It isn’t until he watches you rise from the bench does Sakusa realize that practice is done for the day. He didn’t notice his teammates walking away from the court and giving him a clearer view of your frame; he was glad he could see you at all. His posture straightens as he watches you approach Atsumu, and his hands ball into fists when you rest your hand on the faux-blonde’s arm. Whatever you two may be discussing, the ravenette can only assume it has to do with his teammate being on the receiving end of his pent-up aggression.
Your conversation ends short and sweet, with you walking towards the storage closet. Sakusa’s only half-listening to his captain when he asks if everything is okay with him. Meian is offered an unenthusiastic response of “Everything is fine” before the younger athlete stalks away.
You’re struggling to roll out the ball cart from its spot when the wing spiker enters the storage closet. He doesn’t hesitate to approach you from behind and grip the handle about an inch away from your hold. You gasp, jolting back slightly before turning your head to face the brooding ravenette.
“You startled me, Sakusa,” you sigh, clutching your chest. “Is there something I can help you with?”
Always so eager to please, aren’t you? The wing spiker has to refrain from smirking at the thought.
Still, he ignores your question. “The wheels on this cart have been acting up lately.” With newfound confidence, he places his free hand on your shoulder to gently pull you out of the way for him to yank the cart. It jerks out of its place with a loud screech, and you wince. “You just need to give it a tug. Until it’s fixed, anyway.”
Sakusa looks down at the cart upon realizing this is probably the most words he’s spoken to you without having you carry the conversation.
You grip the handle after a few seconds of silence. Your voice, suddenly meek, shakes as you thank him. He’s blocking your way; nothing you need to point out to him, but your silence says plenty. His feet stay planted on the ground, and your loss of confidence makes his cock stir in his pants.
“You were pretty tough out there earlier,” you point out. The wing spiker knows you purposefully left out who he was giving a hard time. He also knows, based on your concerned tone, that you’re asking him for an explanation.
You aren’t offered a response. Sakusa only takes his time turning his head to peer at you, the darkness of the storage closet and the way his black curls frame his stoic face giving him an intimidating aura. But what has you subconsciously shrinking into your corner are the onyx caskets for irises boring into your frame, beckoning you to crawl into the empty pools of demise.
“I have to be if I want to win,” is his response before finally leaving you be, exiting the changeroom with the same intensity you witnessed mere seconds ago.
He’s back: closer.
Parking his car nearby doesn’t cut it for him anymore. Sakusa doesn’t think it ever did. With the amount of patience lost for every practice with his team, the initial distance was just a formality.
Now, his car hides nearby as he approaches your home, giving a quick yet thorough peek over his shoulder to make sure he’s in the clear.
It took him the third visit to learn where you hid your spare key, having seen you take it out from under the cushion of a little bench on your porch. And luckily for him, it hasn’t left its spot.
Even with his morals flying out the window, the wing spiker neatly places his coat, scarf and boots aside after removing them, then ponders over his leather gloves until ultimately deciding to keep them on. He eyes the spare slippers by the entrance before concluding they won’t be necessary (for this visit, anyway).
Based on the house’s layout, it shouldn’t take long for Sakusa to find your bedroom. But it’s not going anywhere, and neither are you. Why not get to know you via your home?
It’s a small house: one story and cozy. The ravenette wonders how you afforded it, even with your salary. With how minimal the style appears, he can only assume most of your income went into the building itself. Would it be too much for him to buy you things for the interior? As a gift, perhaps when the occasion calls for it.
Then again, is he really in any position to ask himself about doing too much? He almost chuckles at the thought.
A quick yet thorough tour of your home gives him a more detailed layout, though he’d love to stay longer had he had the time. Or better yet, your company. As satisfied as he was to find your living room and kitchen tidy–and by his standards no less–he’s not done getting to know you.
People don’t really need an exploration of the bathroom. It’s as clean as any other room, though it’s a cast-aside note when his eyes land on your laundry basket. Half full, too. Squatting closer to the dirty pile, a subtle yet musky scent hits his nose. Sakusa almost groans, cock stirring in his slacks; for such a clean freak, he’s never been more excited.
His eyes scan the basket’s contents, eventually landing on flimsy lace. Part of him wishes he wasn’t sporting gloves for the occasion, but he doesn’t let that stop him as he picks up the article of clothing. Underwear, of course it is, and a flattering magenta nonetheless. You wear this to practice? Or are there other times you put it on? Do you have a matching bra? The wing spiker can’t find anything in the basket, though he’s sure–no, he knows–you’d wear it like it was made for you.
Are you wearing something similar right now?
The ravenette stands from his position, pocketing the lacy undergarment before exiting the bathroom. Consider it a welcoming gift.
Again, it doesn’t take long for him to find your room. Being in such an intimate location is a different experience compared to looking in as an outsider. Everything is you: the way you organized your shelves and vanity, the colour palette—your scent is more prominent here. Sakusa doesn’t catch his eyes fluttering shut until he distinctly hears shifting.
To his right, you lay on your mattress, your sheets messily hanging off parts of your body. You’re barely a silhouette in his eyes; the moonlight stalking past the crack between your curtains is the only thing helping the ravenette navigate your room. Parts of the glow highlight a bit of your face, though a shimmer from the light’s reflection teases his peripheral vision.
You have a bookcase headboard, and on it lays a necklace in its case. Nothing fancy; a golden heart hanging off a thin chain. It’s more the note next to its box that catches the ravenette’s eye:
Thought this would look good on you ;) Hope you like it!
— Tsumu (your favourite setter <3)
If it weren’t for the fact that you’d notice, Sakusa would crumble that note and follow up with the faux-blonde’s neck. When did you get this? He surely would’ve noticed if you received it during practice.
There’s a good chance the setter gave it to you before or afterwards. The wing spiker’s aware that the two of you spent time together outside of training, though for it to happen enough times that Atsumu found it appropriate to give you a gift as intimate as a heart-shaped necklace has the ravenette glaring at the piece of jewellery. (As open as his teammate may be, Sakusa doubts he’d buy something like that for someone after a single meet-up.)
He hears a sigh: yours. Your body shifts in its spot again, opting to lay on your back. The wing spiker freezes for the slowest seconds his alarmed brain can count, only to relax once you stay in your new spot.
They say an average of eight spiders crawl into your mouth yearly while you sleep. A myth, of course, but maybe that’s what we tell ourselves to ease the paranoia. Maybe, that’s what he is, Sakusa thinks; a spider. Soundless, observant—he’s certainly made himself at home.
Maybe not, he reconsiders. Most people would carefully trap the eight-legged creature before bringing it outside. Or kill it; no mercy necessary. You have yet to do either.
Then again, you aren’t like most people. Not in his eyes, anyway. No, his eyes entertain themselves with your every move, and no matter how deep those holes in the side of your head are, you don’t catch his stare. Whatever he may be, he’s always the perfect distance to observe you.
Sakusa’s brain buzzes mindlessly as his hands draw closer to your form, long fingers pinching the hem of your pyjama shirt before lifting the material. No bra: not a surprising observation, what with your nipples poking at the fabric from the cold. Even with how dark it is, the ravenette salivates from the sight, his cock stirring in his pants. He’s grateful for the lack of witnesses, though it’s still embarrassing to be as affected as he is. You’re not even fully nude. Yet.
He waits for a reaction. Other than you moving in your sleep, the wing spiker receives nothing. He exhales through his nose, never thinking that gaining the knowledge about you being a heavy sleeper early on would be an advantage for him. His fingers twitch before slowly landing on your stomach. Again, no reaction; he then lays his palms to join the digits. With a deep and shaky breath, the ravenette glides his hands up your torso until they reach your breasts.
They feel perfect in his grasp, even with the thick layer of the leather gloves creating that barrier. Your face scrunches when he gives your mounds a light squeeze, though you remain asleep. As deep of a sleeper as you may be, one wrong move could ruin everything. Sakusa gulps, dragging his middle finger to flick at your nipple. A shaky breath from you is enough for him to shift into a more comfortable position on your bed before he continues his ministrations more confidently.
He’s careful, he assures; eyes flickering from your chest to your face, reading your expressions to discover what you like and making sure you don’t wake up. All the while, the athlete tries to ignore the tightness of his pants, although watching you squirm beneath him because of his touch makes that a challenge.
“Hnngh….”
It was barely audible, but enough to make the athlete stop everything. You’re still asleep, of course—he’s almost impressed, a bit jealous, even. Countless nights of insomnia on his side because of his fantasies playing on a loop, but yours give you a good night’s rest.
Regardless, the wing spiker gears to earn another reaction like that. Dipping his toes further into the water, he gets a little rougher, tweaking the sensitive buds between his covered fingers. Your back arches in his hold; more than enough confirmation for him.
Shifting his position once more, Sakusa wraps his lips around one of your nipples, dragging his tongue against it while groping the other breast. You whimper when he begins sucking: a shallow sound, but it travels down to his crotch. He already has to deal with the embarrassment of finishing early because of you; if he cums in his pants without any stimulation, you’ll surely be the death of him.
He can’t rely on you being a deep sleeper forever: the wing spiker must work quickly. Pulling away from your chest, Sakusa brings his attention to the lower half of your body. His hands glide down to your hips, hooking his index fingers past the elastic waistband. He wonders whether he should take his time removing the article of clothing or pull them down in one motion. You help him make a quick decision when your leg accidentally brushes against his hard-on. And while he refrains from letting out a groan, his hands make fast work of harshly tugging your pants to your knees.
Silence: not a sound from you, not a breath from him. Your thighs clench momentarily out of reflex once the cool air hits the exposed skin. Not fast enough—Sakusa managed to catch a peek at your drooling cunt. And it isn’t until you finally relax again does he exhale with a light shiver from the sight.
Now, with a clear view, the athlete reaches for his opportunity by swiping some of your essence and bringing that same finger to your clit. Your hips buck into his touch as he rubs slow but tight circles on the pearl, making his brows furrow in concentration and chest swell with pride. It isn’t long until he adds to his pace and slides a finger from his other hand into your sopping hole. Your thighs clench on impulse, a mewl leaving your throat as the air remains stuck in his. His movements are forced to a halt due to your hold, and it takes several seconds for you to settle. Do you enjoy the sturdy material of leather rubbing against your insides? Maybe you’re unaware of the answer, but God, wouldn’t the ravenette love to know.
Dipping his toes in the water is long out of the discussion; if anything, he’s in too deep, the water rising every second he proceeds. He might as well follow the rest of him down, no? Take that final gulp of air before dipping his head in and letting that frozen abyss swallow him.
Sakusa experimentally wiggles his finger inside you and, after gaining no reaction, slides in another. With how wet you already were, it doesn’t take much effort on his part. You gasp, but your eyes stay closed. Even with his morality slipping away each day he sees you, the wing spiker still finds himself surprised (and grateful) that you can sleep through his actions. He wonders how far he can go.
The longer and deeper he pumps his digits inside you, the more reactions he earns from you. The squelching noises between your legs also become louder, especially with the leather material of his gloves. He’s no longer worried, just curious about what sounds and expressions he can pull out of you.
A particular response tells him he’s found your sweet spot. With a drawn-out yet breathless wail, you lift your hips off the mattress once the ravenette prods at a certain part inside you.
Where there is darkness, there is also light, and that’s exactly what could be said to describe the glimmer in his eyes upon discovering this hidden gem of information. He continues his ministrations, watching in fascination and lust as you grind into his touch.
Meanwhile, his cock is begging to be released from its restraints, throbbing due to the display. Sakusa was hoping to hold out for a bit longer, mapping out your body in ways he hopes no one else has, but along with any logic and morality, his patience flies out the window.
You whimper when the athlete slides his fingers out; he almost wants to coo, assure you that he’ll make you feel all better. He can’t, of course, so he opts to taste you, lick his digits clean of your slick. He’s certain he almost cums on the spot, your sweetness consuming his tastebuds (as well as a hint of bitter leather) and leaving its mark in his memories. The wing spiker’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he tries to refrain from groaning.
When his gaze returns to your form, he’s swift with your pants, further sliding them down before doing the same to himself. Having his cock out of its confinements already does plenty for him, but not enough. Sakusa recalls how your cunt squeezed his fingers, practically sucking them in. You were warm, dripping, even with his gloves in the way. And with how eager he is to have you make a mess on his dick, he knows he’s no longer the same person he was before meeting you.
The athlete taps the tip of his cock against your clit a few times, just to watch you squirm, before sliding into your entrance. Only a few inches in, and he already has to dig his teeth into his bottom lip. None of this was a part of his plan—he’s not even sure he had one in the first place; he just needed to see you, feel your presence in some way, shape or form. And the latter is more than he could ever ask for, your insides hugging him just as tight as they did his fingers. The lack of a barrier is the icing on the cake.
He’s bottomed out before he knows it, and Sakusa doesn’t know where to look: your face contorting from being filled to the brim or your cunt stretching open to accommodate his size. Either one intensifies the swirling of his lower stomach. All he can do for now is play with your clit until you appear to feel better. (And if that means you clench harder around him, then so be it. He’s come this far as is.)
After a few minutes, the wing spiker reels his hips back with a deep breath. His thrusts are gentle, as much of a challenge as it may be to hold back. He bites his bottom lip as he feels you hug every inch of his cock, threatening to milk him for all he’s worth when he’s barely begun. You’re so much better than his hand; no fantasy can compare.
A few strokes in, and Sakusa’s restraint is thinning. Every time, he thrusts in a bit deeper, a bit faster, a bit harder. You’re quietly moaning between pants, your face twisting from a pained expression to one much lewder. Pretty lips parted with brows both furrowed and raised, you have the ravenette throwing his head back with a silent groan.
Unfortunately for him, that’s when he catches sight of that damn necklace again. His grip on the sheets next to your head tightens, his thrusts sloppy as his mind races. What made Atsumu think he had the right? Does he think a necklace is all it’ll take to get you? Sakusa drops his head to glare daggers as you continue to mewl and whimper. What do you think is happening right now? Who are you thinking about right now?
His mind keeps reeling, and the wing spiker fails to notice how he’s taking out his aggression in his thrusts.
Your whimpers grow to pathetic cries, tears forming in the corners of your eyes, and his hold on your sheets move to your wrists on instinct. With the mental spiral and physical force, the ravenette fails to notice your eyes shoot open.
Then, you gasp. “Sakusa!”
He hears the fear in your voice, no doubt. Yet, in a situation like this, with you beneath him, tears streaming down your cheeks as your sobbing and panting mix together, he can’t help but create a more beautiful scenario. You’re begging for him, his cock, needing him to fuck you stupid and fill you up to the brim, the pleasure so overwhelming that your nails are digging into his back, only his shirt shielding his skin from the potential marks.
The athlete doesn’t think; he slams his lips against yours, his tongue quick to explore your mouth as his release hangs on to the edge. And when your pussy flutters around his dick, creams around it, it’s the push he needs. Hot spurts of cum paint your insides white as Sakusa kisses you harder, his hips stilling. Even as he groans against your mouth, he can hear your choked moans, and he never wants any of this to end.
But that’s not how it works. Eventually, you both come down from your highs, his cock going soft and out of cum to give you. The wing spiker doesn’t pull out, but it doesn’t stop the white liquid from trying to seep out. It makes him shiver, slowly ending your kiss for you both to catch some air. The string of saliva connected to your lips that follows him as he sits up distracts him; something else to bind you two together. It’s messy, so so so messy.
He loves it.
You’re both breathing hard for the next several seconds, your terrified expression not faltering as your body trembles lightly.
“Wha—How?” you gasp, sob, you’re not sure, and neither is he. He’s only half-listening, still floating on that release and too far away. “Sakusa, how did you get in?”
There they are again: those eyes. Empty pools, yet always full of judgement. Like you’re the crazy one. Tracing the river streams down your face and clumps of shields for lashes, they seemingly do more talking than his mouth.
Then, Sakusa reaches a hand out to cup your cheek. You flinch, but it doesn’t stop him from wiping a stray tear. Even with your helpless sounds quieting down, the silence isn’t any less deafening. And when his voice, smooth and deep and a little too nonchalant, invades the room, you shiver.
“I was always here.”
© creative-crybaby, do not repost or modify
#haikyuu#fanfic#fanfiction#hq#haikyu#haikyu!!#smut#haikyuu x reader#sakusa kiyoomi#sakusa x reader#yandere sakusa x reader#yandere haikyuu#sakusa smut#dark content#sakusa dark content#itachiyama#msby bj#msby sakusa
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Tease Tidbit Tuesday
We sure are teasing this Tuesday! Continuing on with my Buddie Sauna Sex fic and accidentally wrote 2k of filth in an hour so that was fun! Please enjoy some of the beginning of the spicy.
Tagged by @smilingbuckley thank you!
Buck knees in front of Eddie and stares up at him, almost reverentially. It’s like he’s kneeling in front of an altar, baring his soul to a God and when he whisper’s Eddie’s name, it’s like a benediction. Eddie’s legs spread almost instinctively to accommodate Buck’s body between them, and Buck rests his cheek on Eddie’s thigh.
“Can I – please, can I…?”
Eddie’s throat clicks as he swallows hard and he nods, his hand moving to cup the back of Buck’s head, fingers scratching through the short hairs at the nape of his neck.
Buck watches as Eddie’s eyes flutter closed when he presses a kiss against the soft skin of his inner thigh, and he allows a small smile to spread as he turns his head to nuzzle against the crease where Eddie’s leg meets his groin. He takes a deep breath, filling his nose with the heady, masculine smell of Eddie, and licks a long stripe from the base of Eddie’s balls, up the shaft of his cock, pausing only to press a kiss to the head.
The sound that tears out of Eddie at that is one of the hottest things Buck has ever heard. He takes the whole of the head into his mouth, his tongue pressed flat to the underside, teasing at the frenulum. He sucks gently, his tongue swirling, and he feels Eddie shudder. His hips buck and his fingers tighten in Buck's hair, but he doesn't try and push him further down.
Buck takes another deep breath through his nose, and relaxes his throat as best he can, moving down, down, down, until his nose presses into the dark, wiry hairs at the base.
When he's adjusted to the size of Eddie’s cock, pausing in the perfect goldilocks zone where he can feel Eddie heavy against his tongue, taste him at the back of his throat, but still be able to breathe, he chances a look up, his eyes locking Eddie's. He looks wrecked already, pupils blown wide, and his lips are parted slightly as he pants. The heat from the sauna has him slick with sweat, making his chest and abs shiny, the hairs damp and all too inviting.
"Jesus Christ, Buck."
No pressure tagging
@theotherbuckley @hippolotamus @daffi-990 @watchyourbuck @neverevan
@bidisasterevankinard @babybibuck @aroeddiediaz @spotsandsocks @bibuckbuckgoose
@alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @nmcggg @jesuisici33 @wikiangela @loveyouanyway
@cal-daisies-and-briars @exhuastedpigeon @epicbuddieficrecs @kitteneddiediaz @hermscat
@thekristen999 @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @actuallyitsellie @idealuk @dangerpronebuddie
@loserdiaz @elvensorceress @underwaterninja13 @rainbow-nerdss @steadfastsaturnsrings
@thewolvesof1998 @spagheddiediaz
#james writes#buddie#911 abc#eddie diaz#evan buckley#911 buddie#911#911verse#911 fanfic#eddie x buck#buddie smut#buddie wip#buddie 911#buddie fic#buddie fanfic#i'd like to mention that giving a bj in the sauna is not advised
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Smokescreen
Rengoku Kyojuro x GN! Reader
Suppress, smile, survive.
Tags: hurt/comfort
Word count: ~1k
Masterlist
AN: This was quite the emotional piece for me to write. I hope yall won't be destroyed by it.
Written as a Christmas present to dear @heartbroken4ever ~
The water temperature was just right, the fog rising in the bathroom concealed him from prying eyes should there be any - a smoke screen of sorts - but the tears streaming down his face felt like branding iron, searing an unseen wound into his soul.
His throat was clogged with emotion, his body felt too hot and too cold at the same time, shame burned his cheeks bright red as he gasped for breath quietly. He was choking, drowning, suffocating on the aching mess built up in his core over the weeks, months, years.
You’re a disgrace.
No, father, please!
Good for nothing.
I just want you to be proud of me!
Get out of my sight.
I just want you to look at me!
He had told Senjuro before that the fire in his heart couldn’t ever be extinguished, that he would never give in…
He wasn’t so sure now.
His heart shrieked in grief, a banshee mourning the loss of his father’s love yet again. He kept hoping and hoping, praying and praying; it was all for naught. Perhaps he was a disgrace, perhaps he was good for nothing, perhaps he should just-
No. He couldn’t give into that. He would fight until his final breath for humanity, though the thought still lingered on his mind.
The Flame Hashira never lashed out, never cried loudly, he never felt he deserved to carve out a place for his sorrow in others’ minds. However, his breath came out in a death rattle, as if his lungs were truly filling up with fluid-
He thought he was being quiet.
“My love?”
Kyojuro stifled a curse, and forced down everything that had bubbled over from the tightly wound knot of his negative emotions; he put it all away with desperate swiftness belaying his misery.
He never wanted to weigh you down with his baggage after all.
He cleared his throat, and called out “Yes?” in what he hoped was his usual tone. He gathered all the loose strings and forced them back inside, splashing lukewarm water - when had it gotten so cool? - onto his face to wash away the tears.
The slight waver betrayed the state of your partner. “Are you okay? You have been there an hour…” you asked, still at the threshold of the room. It was foggy inside, but you could see your love’s silhouette moving a little. “I’m coming in.”
Kyojuro hoped beyond hope all signs of his distress were gone as he pulled his signature wide smile onto his face like a mask. You already had so much on your plate, how could he burden you with his insignificant worries?
“You are bold today, my love!” His smile stretched into a grin as you walked closer to him, glad to see you, though the ache inside only throbbed more prominently as he suppressed the emotional release he needed.
You, on the other hand, knew something was wrong, and you knew Kyojuro was loath to show any weakness even to you - his partner of over two years. You didn’t want to force him to show vulnerability to you, but you would be damned if he went through it all alone.
You stepped around him silently to hug him from the back as he leaned on the side of the bathtub. His skin was warm, overly so as always, but the water wasn’t, which was telling in a way.
“It’s okay to let go, dearest,” you murmured into his ear, your head nuzzling lightly against his in a cat-like affectionate gesture. Your hands splayed on his chest as you let him remain unseen yet offered him unconditional support. No amount of ‘dirty laundry’ he hid from you would make you leave your Kyojuro.
His face pulled into an ugly expression he was glad you couldn’t see as he tried to hold back his feelings. They pressed against his chest and made it hard to breathe again, his total concentration breathing broken for the second time today. His lungs physically hurt from the suppression.
“I’ve got you,” you said softly.
Oh how he wished his father held him like you did, how he wished he could say your embrace was enough… It would have to be enough.
The first choked sob that burst from his chest was loud and echoed in the bathroom. Your heart broke as you cradled him in all the comfort and warmth you could provide to him. More distressing noises left your lover and your arms tightened around him. It hurt to not be able to do anything other than stay as his pillar of support.
Kyojuro pressed his head against yours, cheek to cheek, his breathing ragged as tears fell.
“Let it all out, love. I’m here,” you whispered reassuringly, caressing his chest briefly before his hands came up to intertwine with yours. He held onto you as if you were his lifeline, clung to you like a lost child in a dark forest. Water soaked your yukata sleeves, but you cared little as you started to rock him slowly. “You don’t have to smile when you don’t feel good… not with me.”
The bath was cold and goosebumps spread across your skin by the time Kyojuro fell into an exhausted silence. You stayed with him the entire time, despite the discomfort of the cold water, despite the awkward position; you stayed and you gave him the love he so desperately needed.
“Never hesitate to lean on me, my love. I’m here with you… I’m here for you. You’re so strong and brave. My warrior… Let it all out, never bottle it in, okay? Shhhh… I love you, Rengoku Kyojuro.”
How could he have thought you weren’t enough to help him through this… He was a fool.
You were his personal Deity of Salvation, and he would stay your reverent worshiper until the day he died. Until his soul crossed the Sanzu river, he would be yours.
dividers made by the awesome @benkeibear
Network: @enchantedforest-network
#he needs a hug#and warm food#and the sloppiest bj of his life#demon slayer#kimetsu no yaiba#rengoku kyojuro#kyojuro#kyojuro x reader#kyojuro x y/n#kyojuro x you#rengoku x reader#rengoku x y/n#rengoku x you#rengoku kyojuro x reader#kny fanfic#demon slayer fanfic#kimetsu no yaiba fanfic#desi the blue eyed kakushi
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giving him head smut? 👀
I had such a blast writing this. It's set in the coffee shop au because of course it is. I hope this is good because I am a bit nervy about posting it !
Content: 18+, this is literally just giving head
Word count: 1440
Matty is on you the second you’re in the door of his apartment. He quickly discards his keys to the floor before pressing you against the door. His lips meet yours, tongue sliding into your mouth.
The kiss is messy. His teeth nibble at your bottom lip, drawing a gasp from you. One of his hands rest at the base of your neck, wrapping around it. The pressure of his fingertips into your skin is light, but it’s enough to make you dizzy. Blood rushes through your veins. You grind your hips into him, desperate for friction. He’s been hard since the minute he pressed you against the door, straining through his jeans.
There’s one thing you haven’t done with him so far. The thought of it has been on your mind for days now. You wanted to make him come with your mouth. Simple as that. You can imagine the way his hands would wrap in your hair. How his head would fall back while groans sound from his throat. Breathless, gravely sounds would leave his mouth as he would struggle not fuck your mouth. His size would gag you easy. You need him. Now.
“Matty,” you break the kiss, breathless. “I want you.” He’s in the middle of taking off his shirt when he responds.
“Let’s go to the bedroom. Been thinking about you being under me all night long.” He smiles, looking you over. Your face is tinged pink, framed by your messy hair. You move your hand to rest over the bulge in his jeans.
“Can I suck you off? Want to make you feel good like you make me feel.” You press your palm into him, and his mouth falls open, moaning at the pressure. The sound is music to your ears.
“You already make me feel good, darling. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” His eyes say a different story, though. His pupils are blown wide. He’s thought about you on your knees for him for months. He’s jacked off to the image of your lips wrapped around him more times than he’d care to admit.
You sink to your knees in front of him, holding eye contact. “I really want to. Been thinking about it a lot. Just don’t know exactly what to do.”
“I’ll talk you through it, yeah? Think you can listen and be a good girl for me?”
“Mhm. Wanna do well.”
“You’ll do perfect.” You stare up at him for a moment before continuing. Your hands reach the button of his jeans, and your eyes look up at him for approval. Matty offers it immediately, nodding his head rapidly in response. When his jeans are on the floor, you’re face to face with the hard length under his boxers. You move without his instructions, mouthing at the spot of precum on his boxers. You press your tongue flat against the fabric, tracing the shape underneath. “Fuck, sweetheart. You’re already a natural.” Matty’s voice croaks out. His breathing becomes more rapid. A flush paints over his chest and cheeks as sweat forms at his brow. He can’t handle the teasing anymore. “Take my cock out.” The phrase is blunt, laced with lust.
You listen, sliding your fingertips underneath the waist band of his boxers to pull them down. Without thinking, you press a kiss to the rose tattoo on his hip. Your lips linger on the skin before you pull back to look at his face, still unsure of yourself.
“What do I do now?” you ask.
“Wrap your hand around it, just like I’ve shown you before.” Your hand moves to collect the precum at his tip before holding the base of his cock, stroking it slowly. “Good girl. Now just use that pretty mouth of yours. Don’t worry about taking me deep. I don’t wanna hurt you.”
Your hand strokes him a few more times before you trace your tongue on the underside of his shaft, circling his tip. “Shit—” Matty sucks in a sharp breath. His gaze locks onto you while you continue to lick at the tip, tongue dipping into the slit.
As you begin to take him further into your mouth, your hair falls all over the place. You ignore it, continuing to sink down on his cock until half of it is in your mouth. Fueled by the strangled sounds coming from his mouth, you start to bob your head slowly, trying not to take too much at once.
“Can I hold you hair for you, love? I promise I won’t force your head down. Just want to see your pretty face.” Matty asks. His lips look nearly raw, likely from trying to hold his moans back.
You remove his cock from your mouth to answer him. Spit falls down your chin, dripping onto your shirt. It’s messy. It takes everything in Matty not to groan at the sight.
“Yeah of course,” your voice breathes out. Matty’s quickly moves his hands to gather your hair into a makeshift ponytail behind your head, keeping it out of the way. Now he can see you clearly. Nothing keeping him from seeing your lips stretched around him. “Am I doing okay? Is there anything else I should be doing?” you ask before you take him in your mouth again.
“You’re doing so good, sweet girl. Perfect for me. But uh—“he pauses, breathless. Words aren’t coming to him easy. “Hollow your cheeks a bit. The suction feels really good.” This time when you sink onto his cock, you hollow in your cheeks as you bob your head, pressing your tongue on the underside of his shaft. “Fuck baby. Just like that shit—“ he moans. He looks down as you take him in. Your lips stretch around his cock, and drool drips out of the side of your mouth. It’s completely erotic. Matty can’t help but tighten his grip on your hair as he tries to commit the image to memory.
You catch him off guard when you don’t continue the shallow bobbing you’ve been doing. Instead, you take his cock as deep into your mouth as possible, gagging when it hits the back of your throat. Matty’s hips jolt forward at the feeling of your throat constricting around him. A loud, raw groan leaves his mouth as his head falls back. His hand as a reflex pushes your head farther down onto him. You shift your eyes upwards, watching as the pleasure engulfs him. He's only holding your head down for a second before he realizes what he’s doing. “Shit sorry, didn’t mean to do that.” He says, snapping his head back down to look into your eyes. You moan around his cock, increasing the speed you take him in your mouth. You alternate between quick bobs of your head and taking him in until you gag.
His deep groans begin to turn into desperate whines as he gets closer to his climax. You can feel the way his cock starts to throb in your mouth. He’s close. He only needs a little bit more. You pay attention to the tip of his cock, hollowing in your cheeks while running your tongue along the base. With your hands, you stroke his shaft. Matty’s hips buck into your mouth, whimpers leaving his mouth. “Baby I’m gonna come—” he manages to say. His hand goes to try and pull your head back so he doesn’t come in your mouth, but you don’t let him. Instead, you let a loud moan leave your throat as you take him into your mouth as far as you can. In an instant, his head falls back as a choked sound leaves his throat, and he spills into your mouth, grinding his hips gently as he rides out the high. You take your mouth off of him when his hips finally slow down. “Fuck, that was good. Such a good girl for me.” Matty says as he runs his hand through your hair lovingly. “Let me get you a cup so you don’t have to swallow—”
Before he can even finish the sentence, you swallow. Almost as if to prove it to him, you open your mouth and stick out your tongue, showing you swallowed every bit of it. His eyes darken at your actions. “No worries. I took care of it.” A smile runs across your face when you see the effect you have on him. Matty leans down and suddenly picks you up in his arms, walking towards the bedroom.
“Come on. Wasn’t joking when I said I wanted to see you under me.”
#matty healy#matty healy x reader#matty healy smut#the 1975#the 1975 fanfic#the 1975 smut#matty healy fanfic#matty healy imagine#yall i went a bit crazy with this one#i hope it is good bc i have never written a bj fic#time for me to not write for another month#there is also very minimal editing here sorry
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Sorry I just remembered the moment where Hawkeye and BJ said "Margaret, we would like to double team you in the shower," and I had to let out a huge sigh
#literally i never remember anything about this episode except for this specific moment which is seared into my brain#i love the random moments of bj blurting shit like this#it fuels all of us in different ways#and me in a very particular way that will one day finally translate into incredibly self-indulgent fanfic#bj hunnicutt#hawkeye pierce#margaret houlihan#margbeejhawk#houlihunnihawk#m*a*s*h#mashblogging#mashcapping#the price#s7e18
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up on tokio hill (msby bj)
synopsis: your days as japan's top vtuber are over after a spicy scandal. with your contract terminated (and lease expiring), you decide to leave the past behind and relocate to osaka. located in the quiet suburbs of tokio hill, you move into a share house owned by your uncle, under the impression that your fellow tenants are unassuming and withdrawn like you. unbeknownst to you, four famous athletes are living under one roof. and with you in the picture, this makes five.
multi-chapter series ft. msby bj and other hq!! characters (social media + writing)
slice of life, shoujo-genre ish, the boys always get into questionable situations
masterlist.
prologue
ch 1: the newbie is our new housemaid! (not)
#haikyuu#haikyuu x femreader#haikyuu fem reader insert#haikyuu msby bj#msby x reader#msby fanfic#haikyuu fanfic series#haikyuu fanfic#haikyuu msby series#haikyuu up on tokio hill#up on tokio hill#haikyuu fanfic up on tokio hill#sakusa kiyoomi#hinata shouyou#miya atsumu#bokuto koutarou#suna rintarou
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agitation | by adure
"Did you get it?" Steve asks and Jonathan's throat clicks. Steve shifts and the heat of him brushes against Jonathan's thigh once more. He reaches out wordlessly and tilts Steve's chin. It's an imperceptible change and maybe would've been the end of it if Steve hadn't chosen that moment to lick his lips.
He can see Steve notice, catches the moment his eyes drift down. Like he knew what he was going to find. Jonathan opens his mouth to say something, anything, to stop what's about to happen. But Steve gets there first.
"You're hard."
Jonathan likes taking photos, Steve likes being looked at. It works.
stonathan | 3.3k | explicit
[read on ao3]
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Rating Fanfiction Tropes because I have nothing better to do
PS: this is my opinion, and keep in mind that everyone has different opinions
#rating tropes#fanfic tropes#fanfic dynamics#bakudeku#soukouku#wangxian#kagehina#dabihawks#bj alex#painter of the night#tododeku#bingqiu#hualian#percabeth#solangelo
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Rob James-Collier | The Ritual (requested by: anonymous)
#rob james-collier#robert james-collier#rob james collier#robert james collier#the ritual#hutch#hutch hutchbert#requests#mine#hutch is always a wonderful subject#i've giffed almost every single frame of this that he's in now besides the excruciatingly dark ones in the rain#idk if anyone knows this but i'm obsessed with his nose#hutch was always serving nose and legs#bless him#someone write me a fanfic where he lives and gets to go home and get the bj he so desperately deserved#i volunteer as tribute
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How can I resist
Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader
Word Count: 2.9k
Summary: Eddie and y/n have always had a comfortable and flirtatious friendship, but i guess it all comes down with a little alcohol and leather
Content: 18+ unprotected PiV sex, creampie, swearing, alcohol, smut, kink
a/n i have been gone for so long, but i took advantage that im on bed rest to finish up this one that ive had in my drafts for a while.
reblog and like if you do ♡
masterlist
Tuesday night, like any other Tuesday night it was Corroded Coffin night, with that your best friend Eddie always picked you up, and like always you were running late when you hear the doorbell ring
“shit shit” you say worried “mom can you please open its Eddie, i just got out of the shower” you hear the door close downstairs and try to find a towel big enough to wrap your body in, you manage to find one but it barely covers your ass cheeks. You run to your room to find Eddie already there “hi, im so sorry i’m late, ill be quick i promise” you kiss him on the cheek and run to your walk in closet
“its alright we got time, i was just bored at home…. Decided to drop by early” he pauses looking at the clothes you have displayed on your bed, alongside it your bra and panties “damn” he whispers as he stares at the lace lingerie set.
“oh but still i dont want you to be late. Ill just get dressed and do my makeup” You run back to your room still in nothing but your towel and grab your clothes and underwear. Eddie lays down on your bed, resting on his elbows waiting for you.
You get your bra on and panties, and put on some new black leather pants, you stare at your self in the mirror and notice that the outline of your panties shows up in the tight pants “fuck it” you remove your leather pants and panties and decide to go commando, no one is gonna notice it anyway, and besides it looks way better. Top part you decide to pair it with a corset like top with some red detailing around the front. You try and tie it well but you can't do a knot behind your back “Eddie???” you call “i need your help, can you tie a knot behind my back please” you say as you walk back into your room. Eddie sits up straight once he sees you “what?” you ask as you notice he's not moving
“i—i nothing you just—you look great” he says nervously “c’mere ill help you” You turn your back to him, so he can tie the knot, Eddie totally wasn't aware of the big mirror in front of you, so he didnt hide the fact at he was completely starring at your ass, you blush at his reaction, butterflies go crazy in your stomach, you couldn't deny he had some type of effect on you but you tried your best to hide it “there you go sweets, all done”
“thank you, Eddie, all i need is my makeup” you walk over to your dresser and lean over it to do your eyeliner, once again noticing how Eddie is completely starring at you while sitting on your bed “you alright Eddie? You keep starring at me?” you point out
Eddie breaks his eye contact, cheeks flush red he says “i just think you should dress like this everyday, it looks—great”
“oh stop it, i look normal” you finish your makeup and put on your high-heeled boots “all set, what do you think?” you say while he takes your hand and twirls you around
“i think—“ he says pulling you in “you look hot” sliding his open palm down your back, resting just above the curve of your ass, “you’re not wearing any underwear are you?” he smirks
“i think you’ve stared at my ass for way too long sir, it's time to go”. It was comfortable with Eddie, you have known him all your life, you know absolutely everything about each other, the flirtatious conversations were just part of your friendship, none of you ever acted upon it. you let go of his hold and grab his hand and make your way to his van.
The ride to the Hideout was short, especially with Eddie driving. You arrive there with Eddie’s arm around your shoulders, pulling you in close, you walk up to the bar
“hi Betty” you greet the bartender
“hi y/n, sup Munson you ready for tonight? heard the turn up is pretty big” she says “the usual im presuming? Beer and a whiskey for the lady?” you give her a smile and a wink as she pours you a glass of whiskey.
You look over at Eddie and see he's a bit restless
“you alright Eds?” you ask
“yeah, no im—yeah im fine im just a bit nervous tonight thats all” he takes a sip of his beer and looks at his watch “im gonna go on in like 15 minutes i need to get ready, so let's do a check” he says placing his hands at your hips
“alright then” you start saying as you begin your weekly routine ritual “teeth? Check hair? Check! You’re good to go Munson, give ‘em hell” you pull him in for a quick peck on the lips as always, his hands clenched together at your touch, you tried to make nothing of it, since it was a normal thing you always did, it was sort of good luck kiss. He gives you a wink and walks away, no one could deny the grip he had on you didnt make you absolutely melt but—
“you guys make such a cute couple” Betty says interrupting your train of thought
“we’re not a couple Betty, we’re best friends”
“honey, the way he looks at you all the time isn't just friendly, besides what kind of friends kiss each other holding onto you like that?” she laughs
“best friends! it's a good luck ritual we’ve always done, before any big event in our lives… its no big deal” you excuse yourself. Betty laughs and goes on to attend other customers. Shortly after you see Robin and Steve enter the venue, you wave at them as they make their way to you
“dont you look hot” Robin says with a smile
“hi Robin, how are you?” you say politely
“no yeah you’re right Hi y/n….. You look fucking hot” she says smiling again
“hi Steve” you say with a hug
“hey sweetheart, has Eddie gone on yet?” he says
“he should be going up any minute now—there he is” you say smiling, your face absolutely lights up when you see him, god he’s beautiful! You smile at him, and he returns with a wink as usual. He made you feel special, always have!
Corroded Coffin started playing and everyone was just having the time of their lives, dancing and singing along! Eddie like usual kept his eye on you the entire time, god he's beautiful, you love staring at his fingers move quickly along the neck of the guitar… its hot
As the show continued, you, Robin and Steve get to talking
“they are gravity defying!” Robin says, somehow the conversation turned to your boobs “literally cannot fit anything between them!! Look at how tight they are pressed together” she says to Steve
“im i may… im looking respectfully… but she's right” Steve says taking a shot straight after
“i bet i can fit a shot glass between them” you joke
“if you can, ill take a shot of it” Robin says with a smile, you laugh at her but decide to play the game.
You grab onto a shot glass and squeeze it between your boobs, far enough where it’s stable “Betty, give me something to pour” you say. Betty hand you a bottle of vodka and you pour it down “go on then, take the fucking shot” Robin seemed nervous, but she was down for it, you push your chest up, and she takes the shot glass with her mouth and drinks it up
“ah, i did it” she says pulling the weirdest face “most exciting thing that ever happened in my life” she laughs.
Steve was silent, no words no nothing, he just kept taking sips of his beer. He knew it would be pointless to say anything to Robin, she would just do it anyway!
The conversation continued, and the show came to and end, with that Eddie came straight to you after the show
“sooooo” he starts “how was it?” he says fixing his bangs
“you were so goooood!!! im so proud of you” you say giving him a hug
“Eddie i took a shot out of y/n’s boobs, it was awesome” Robin interrupts. Eddie quirks an eyebrow at the two of you. “with a shot glass might i add…. It was great you should try it” she says without thinking. Your mind went blank, she really needs to shut up sometimes.
“i—i dont think so” Eddie says nervously “its—its im alright”
“c’mon Munson, man up and do it”
“im alright with it, its just a shot”
“no make it interest…. Tequila shot! Lick the salt of her too” Robin says, a cheeky grin forming up on her face, she loves an uncomfortable situation.
This cannot be happening, how were you gonna control yourself. Betty pours the tequila in the shot glass between your boobs, and sprinkles the salt from your chest to your neck, handing you a slice of lime
“you ready Munson?” he nods as he holds onto your waist with both hands, just this alone made you weak already, he lowers his mouth to the glass taking it and drinking up the liquid pulling you in closer you feel his tongue lick the salt from your chest, your eyes close as you feel his tongue licking the salt of your chest, you can't help you let soft moan escape, hoping Eddie couldn’t hear but the way he squeezed your hips made you think otherwise, you didnt know what to do, you were getting nervous and felt like things were getting out of hand “lime?” you ask with a smile, handing him the slice. He bites it never breaking eye contact with you. His hold on you became tighter and tighter as the tension between the two of you grew
“excuse me but like get a room” Gareth says “we’re gonna head out you guys are staying? Wanna grab a bite” you both nod your heads yes and make your way of the venue with the rest of the band following right behind.
On your way to Eddie’s van was pretty much normal until you were actually alone in it
“did it weird you out?” you ask in a hush tone, afraid to know the answer
“no, did it weird you out?” he asks
“no!! im comfortable with you i dont care, besides we give each other a peck on the lips all the tim—its no big deal” you say looking away. Eddie drives up to this diner in the middle on nowhere, everyone was already parked there. You take a seat on Eddie’s lap, his hands straight up to meet your hips, holding you in place
“just please dont move” he laughs “for the love of god dont move”
“im sorry, these pants are slippery against your jeans, im trying” you whisper. You try your best to keep your posture but it keeps getting harder…. Everything! Feeling his bulge press into your ass you knew he had to be worked up already. You try to ignore it, it wasn't the first time it happened but this time felt different… why did it kinda feel good? what was happening? this is ridiculous, maybe its just the booze getting to you…. Both of you
The cold Hawkins night breeze was getting to you, you cross your arms to cover yourself from the cold
“you cold?” Eddie asks
“yeah a bit”
“here take my jacket”
“but then you’ll be cold”
“not with you on top of me” you blush and get his jacket on “looks better on you than it does on me” his hands sliding down to your thighs “keep still” he says in a serious tone.
Not long before everyone was done with their food and drives off, you and Eddie do the same.
Arriving at your door the tension kept growing
“you wanna come in for coffee or something?”
“Bit late for coffee dont you think?” he laughs
“just—shut up”
You could feel his gaze on you the entire time you walked up to your room, you still dont know what is happening but you dont really mind it…. i mean its Eddie.
You walk in and Eddie is already making himself comfortable while you try to untie the knot behind your back
“Eddie help me out, i cant get this knot out” you say, pulling your hair over to one side, exposing your neck to him, he helps you untie the knot and starts kissing your shoulder “Eddie?! what are you doing” you ask nervously
“if you dont want this, tell me right now and ill stop” His voice comes from right behind you, big hands gripping your hips to pull you against him, continuing to place sloppy kisses along your neck ” you smell so fucking good”
“Eddie i dont think we—“
“should be doing this? Why we already kiss all the time dont we?” he says mocking your earlier words. Hands on your hips he turns you around, you smile at the ground as you feel his index under your chin, raising for face to his “give me one good reason as to why this is wrong?”
“It could ruin us Eddie i dont want that”
The space between the two of you closes as you feel his lips onto yours, but not like the other times, it’s different!! Its needy, its hot. what began a soft gentle kiss quickly became a clash of teeth and tongue. You feel a smirk forming against your lips once he realizes you’re pulling him closer to you
“you’re that needy huh?” he whispers, next thing you know he's got your bent over your bed while he's standing behind you “fuck you’re hot” he lets out in a sigh, hands straight to your ass, slapping the leather on it slide up, reaching the band of your pants and pulling them down, totally exposing your self to him “oh babyyyy” he whines “i totally forgot you were commando” he lets out a moan, biting his lip. You feel two fingers running up your slit, collecting your juices, your head falls forward at the feeling of his fingers rubbing small circles at your bud, you moan out load when he inserts two fingers inside you, curling them to hit just the right spot to make you absolutely mental “come on princess let me hear you fall apart” he says fingering you from behind
You try to make words come out but your mind is blank as soon as he kneels down behind your and you feel his tongue flat against your pussy
“ohmygodddd” you mewl as he continues to eat you “ohmy—yes just like that” , all these new sensations are overwhelming, no one has ever made you feel like this. His large hands both on your ass, spreading your legs wider
“hmmm baby, you taste so good” he says against you, vibrations of his voice making you go feral
“Ed—Eddie? fuck me, fuck me haaaaard” you manage to say, his mind freezes but his body takes full control, reaching for his belt, undoing his jeans. It doesn't take long until you feel the tip of his dick
“you sure baby? this isn't like kissing” he says smiling, teasing your hole with his dick. You turn your head giving him a serious look “fuckkkkk, you're so tight baby” his head falls back as he feels you tight around him “so good for me” You moan as you adjust to him inside you “it feels so good” he says as he slides in and out of you harder and harder
Your moans fill the room a little too much, you reach out to grab a pillow and sink your face on it to muffle out the sound
His arm snakes around your waist, his middle finger coming in contact with your clit “come for me beautiful” he starts rubbing you in circles, while thrusting in and out of you relentlessly, the knot building up in your stomach soon to be undone begins to gain more and more pressure
“im—im close” you let out softly “ohmygo—now fuckfuckfuck” Eddie thrusts into you a couple more times before pulling out, you soon feel a warm substance coat your ass
“that…. was amazing!! jesus christ” he says falling onto the bed next to you, you continue silent as you try to catch your breath “was it alright for you? Did i hurt you?” he asks sitting up worried.
“It was amazing Eddie” you laugh “im just trying to catch my breath thats all”
“ohh, oh thats cool”
“also…. Can you grab me a towel or something?” you ask shying away “and clean… you know…” your crunch your nose, trying your best not to laugh, he's so out of it its cute
“yes im so sorry, i didnt know if i could come ins— sorry be right back” he gets up and grabs a towel that was left on the floor from your shower earlier, he cleans you up gently and helps you stand up.
You were both so nervous, you have never acted upon your feelings for each other, it felt comfortable but still nerve racking
“thank you, Eddie” you smile, reaching up to his face kissing him, his hands snaking around you hold you close to him, you break away smiling” want coffee?” he replies with a smile, kissing you.
#eddie munson#joseph quinn#eddie munson fanfic#eddiemunson#eddiestrangerthings#stranger things#st4#stranger things eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#reader x eddie munson#eddie munson smut#eddie stranger things#eddie munson kink#eddie munson bj#boyfriend eddie munson#eddie munson best friend#bff eddie munson#perv! eddie#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson x you#eddiemunsonedit#eddiesmut#eddie x fem!reader#eddie smut
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Starting us off bright and early and wishing everyone a great day! ❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷
Although we do have the sad banner today lads.
From chapter 4 of I Was Thinking About Your Mouth, coming Sunday:
“I think I’m going to skip dinner tonight. I’m not really hungry.” He sounds nasal and faraway and Carlos is standing here, looking at him seriously, but all he wants to do is hold him tight and let him cry into his chest.
“You always say that and then you end up eating at 2 am.”
TK winces with irritation but still politely responds, “I just feel like being alone tonight if that’s okay.” Doesn’t really have the energy to argue.
“No,” Carlos tells him, “It’s not okay. Get up. I mean it.” Risky, using this tone. Sometimes TK is highly amenable to being bossed around. Sometimes Carlos pitches it all wrong.
But TK does get up – softly sulky as he humors Carlos and heaves himself off the bed. He follows Carlos with obvious reluctance, although Carlos is confident he’d have been coaxed anyway by the scent of heating tomato and mozzarella, like always. He knows details about TK that nobody else could ever know because they’d never care enough, except for Owen and Gwyn as his parents. Now one of the people who knows the most about TK is gone forever, and it occurs to Carlos then about the loneliness of it. Every time someone who loves you falls out of the world, they take a part of you with them. They take the facts and the secrets they’ve been privy to, the little details and quirks that they found relevant and charming for reasons of their own. When Carlos told TK he wants all of his pieces, he meant it more than even he realized at the time. He wants not just the addiction and recovery-related aspects of TK’s experiences and emotions – he wants everything that Gwyn took with her when she went. “Send it all back to me and I’ll do it for you,” Carlos prays to her silently, “Send all your love for TK back to me.”
Open tag and tags below
@nancygillianmvp @safeaswrites @literateowl
@kiwichaeng @fallout-mars @sznofthesticks
@eclectic-sassycoweyes @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad
@carlos-tk @whatsintheboxmh @vineofroses
@three-drink-amy @orchidscript @mikibwrites
@herefortarlos @fitzherbertssmolder
@sugdenlovesdingle @honeybee-taskforce @theghostofashton @freneticfloetry
@lemonlyman-dotcom @chicgeekgirl89 @sanjuwrites @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut
@alrightbuckaroo @liminalmemories21 @heartstringsduet @never-blooms
@ladytessa74 @welcometololaland @rmd-writes @lightningboltreader
@goodways @reyesstrand @paperstorm @bonheur-cafe
@strandnreyes @chaotictarlos @thisbuildinghasfeelings
If you want to share! No pressure ever! ❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷
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Fandom: Starfield
Pairing: Delgado x OC
Chapter rating: M
Chapter: 7
This is part 3 and the final part of the Bannoc IV chapters. More on AO3 or start at the Beginning.
It’s late and alcohol buzzes in his veins as he palms the nav table with slumped shoulders. There’s a brunette sucking him off that he’d brought back from The Last Nova. It’s been three weeks of worrying and he needs to find pockets of relaxation. So, the brunette offered relief and a blow job’s a blow job. He’s never been too picky about it before. But this one? It’s not that it’s bad and it could be categorized as pretty good. It’s just not—it simply is not her. It’s not great.
Delgado grits his teeth together and vacantly stares as the red lights in the command center flicker. Fucking annoying. He’s losing focus. But he shouldn’t have to concentrate this hard. It’s a goddam blow job. Shouldn’t he be thoughtless and less tense by now? Maybe if he just imagines the mischievous glint in her eyes or the feel of her teal strands in his grasp the tension might unravel. He closes his eyes to paint her picture but it’s blocked by flickering orange behind his eyelids. Flicker. Flicker. Suck. The suction is pleasurable but his mind is so fickle, and he falls flaccid with the languid lathing of the pirate’s tongue. Fuck, he can’t even remember this one’s name.
He backs up and tugs her off. Teeth scrape against sensitive skin and he winces. “Go.”
“But I—”
Raised finger like the reaper, he points at the fated door, his pants bunching around his ankles. The pirate doesn’t even huff right as they saunter from the room. Delgado yanks up his pants, and strolls those few steps to the exit. He marches down the stairs to the command center. There’s not a single glance spared in the direction of the displaced pirate.
The trip to ship services is the same as always minus the interruptions from Murdock. Instead of entering Jazz’s space though, he leans over the counter like any regular customer, waiting for her to notice him at the window. Eyes on her computer screen only, she doesn’t see him there.
He taps the ‘ring for service’ bell once and its jingle echoes throughout the atrium. “Have you heard—”
Jazz sighs and cuts him off. “No, still haven’t heard anything from your precious pirate.” Her brows furrow as she continues typing, the glow of the computer screen highlighting her annoyance.
Naeva barked out a laugh. “Your little friend probably ran off with the money by now. Do you really think someone who steals from you every chance she gets is going to suddenly become loyal? What reason does she have to bring it back here?”
“I hate to agree with Naeva on this one boss,” Jazz says while her fingers clack against the keys. She briefly glances up at him.
“You agree because deep down you know I’m right.” Naeva folds her arms across her chest, leveling a hardened stare at Delgado. “I say you hunt the bitch down and take back what’s ours.”
“Alright, Naeva. That’s enough,” Del says, his tone remaining cool and even. “Jazz. Ready my ship.”
A small smile graces Naeva’s lips and she almost nods approval. “I am leaving The Key in both of your hands while I am away.”
“You are leaving it in good hands.” Naeva’s smile grows bigger.
“Oh and Jazz, I need my ship prepped for Bannoc IV.”
Naeva’s face falls and the clacking of the keys ceases.
“You have got to be fucking joking,” Naeva says, throwing her hands up in the air in disbelief.
“I mean, I do have prototypes of both the ComSpike and conduction grid but they are just that. They are prototypes. I can’t guarantee your safety.”
“I do not tell you often but you should know that I have great faith in your capabilities, Jazz. I do not need the concern. I simply need my ship outfitted with what you have.” He turns away.
“Del,” Naeva reaches out to grasp his wrist.
“I know what you are going to say. But I need you to trust me on this one. Just one last time.”
Naeva releases his wrist with a sigh. “Fine but if you don’t come back—”
“I trust you and the others to take care of the fleet. If I don’t come back, you can say I told you so to the ghost of my memory.”
“Ha. Real funny,” Naeva says, shaking her head.
Jazz sighs. “Well, if you’re sure.”
“I am sure,” Delgado states without hesitation. “So outfit my ship while I gather a crew.”
He exits, heading back to the bunks. Hopefully, he will be able to scrounge up his usual crew and they won’t be too drunk or high.
#bear writes#starfield fanfic#Delgado x oc#vergado#split skin#chapter 7#there’s a bit of spice at the start#brief bj mention
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watched Little Shop of Horrors a couple days ago and remembered @bunnys-beetlejuice-blog's FANTASTIC high school Beetlejuice au, where bj adam + barbara get cast in the musical. bj is a PERFECT dr. scrivello. he loves being an asshole without the consequences and.... barbara kind of likes it? 👀
#s/o to little shop of horrors. LOVE the practical effects. stands up so well compared to 1980s sfx lol#i love how complicated this is getting.#yeah this is fanart of a fanfic of a musical in which the characters are playing characters from a DIFFERENT musical#bj also makes every scene he has with adam Very homoerotic.#my art#digital art#beetlejuice#little shop of horrors#lsoh#beetlejuice the musical#bjtmtmtm#bjtm#beetlejuice fanart#HEY BUNNY. THIS IS 4 U.
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Just over here thinking about how nice it would be to just hop in the shower with Rex after he’s had a really long day and he’s tired. So you just let him stand there under the water and your scrub him down… and then probably suck him off for good measure. Hehehe 😈😈
Erin🥺💙 you know I’m obsessed with bl*wjobs especially for Rex. So uhhhhh👀
“That’s it…lean back.” You instruct from where you were propped up on your knees between his legs. The hot water soaked you both through to the bone, the soapy water streaming down his rippling chest. You guided gentle fingertips down his abs, following the streams of water down to the growing length of him.
He leaned back against the transparisteel wall, tipping his head down to watch you inching close to him. You smile up at him teasingly, his eyes hooded with both arousal and exhaustion meeting your gaze. He slowly guided your wet hair from your face and held it back in his grip. “You don’t….have to….” He muttered softly, his lips curling into that appreciative yet suggestive smirk of his.
His cock now grown to full hardness at the mere sight of you on your knees for him, slapped up into his lower abdomen. “I don’t have to…” You reached for it, curling your fingers around the base and slowly slicking up along the throbbing vein on the underside. “I want to. Please?” You asked teasing him. You knew what he wanted before he even turned the shower on.
He grunted, gently pulling at your hair as you said the magic words to him. “Since you’ve asked so nicely…” he hissed as you met your curled fist around his tip with your parted lips. “Fuck oh mesh’la- how could I ever say no?” You let your tongue dart out to slip a bead of white precum into your mouth.
“Missed you.” You flicked at his slit, your tongue twisting around the ridge of his tip. You let yourself drool over the length of him, slicking him up as your fist pumped down. You kept eye contact with him as you wrapped your lips around him and sucked in your cheeks.
He whimpered at the growing tension of your lips pulling taut around him. “Oh shit- missed you too mesh’la. So much. Shit that’s good. So good.” His grip in your hair tightened as you slipped more of him down your throat, beginning a torturous bobbing rhythm. You hummed softly, the sensation making his breath catch in his throat.
Whatever had been bothering him and weighing on him during his last mission was all but gone as you took him deeper and deeper down your throat. The faster you went, the longer your tongue twisted around his shaft, the more he panted and whined as he chased his high. “You’re going to make a mess of me.” He laughed as you slid him far enough past your lips to bump into the back of your throat.
Your hands steadied on his thighs, gripping and massaging him while you sucked him off with no hands. His brows raised, clearly impressed at just how much you could and were willing to do to help him relax while on even just a brief leave. Never one to be outdone, you slowly moved to cup both his balls in one hand and swallowed around the width of him pounding against you.
His chest heaved, breath stuttering as he signaled how close he was. Your nose tickled the hairs at the base of him right before you pulled off completely, opening your mouth expectantly. “Come for me, baby.” You cooed, holding out your tongue and blinking up at him innocently. “Come, Rex.”
His lower belly tightened as he held himself in his hand, pumping himself only once fully before he spilled over his fingers and on to your waiting tongue. He groaned loudly, ribbons of his spend launching onto your tongue, lips and cheek. He did make a sloppy mess, but one you quite enjoyed being on the receiving end of. “What a welcome home.” He panted, smiling from ear to ear. He guided you to your feet, brushing your cheekbone with his thumb and wiping away the mess he’d made of you. “Now let me clean you up.”
#captain rex smut#captain rex drabble#captain rex x fem!reader#captain rex x reader#captain rex x you#captain rex fanfic#hehehehehee shower bjs with my bf👀
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