#but now it just... feels... like... skin????
Note
Alien who accidentally fingers you during one of his examinations of the human body and is intrigued by your reaction
Hi! This took a turn at the end unexpectedly. Hope you like it and thanks for the request! <3
Alien inspection
Alien x fem!reader || finger-fucking, groping, lowkey humiliation
When you arrived to the space station you weren’t expecting to pass any medical exam. They told you back on Earth that you’d be free to go anywhere without background check. You should have guessed they were wrong. So now you were patiently waiting in a room full of alien creatures. There were so many different morphologies and colors and textures… Your poor human brain was overwhelmed with all the information you were getting just sitting in the waiting room.
After what felt like an eternity but probably was just half an hour, a metallic voice called your name and a very, very tall alien stood before you to escort you. He started talking in a language that sounded completely extraterrestrial, full of weird sounds and clicks. You looked at him confused, and he looked at you like he never saw a human before. A spark of surprise crossed his features as he extended his hand and clicked something next to your ear. The translator. Oh fuck, you forgot.
“Sorry, I forgot I had to do that.” You explained, already embarrassed.
“It’s okay, it’s your first time here.” His voice sounded weird when translated, but at least you could understand him now. “I’m excited, you are my first human.”
“Uh? What do you mean?” You asked, completely confused at what he meant. You couldn’t be the first human arriving at the station, there were at least fifteen other women in your same ship.
“I’m new in this facility, I’ve never seen a human before.” That explained it. You said nothing as he led you to another room. “Remove your coverings and sit there.” He pointed to a metal table in the middle of the space.
When you were finally naked and exposed completely to him, he turned around and started writing in his tablet. He put some cables around your chest and soon you heard the telltale sound of a cardiac machine, the beep beep of your heart deafening in the silence of the room. His clinical look of your body was making you feel extremely self-conscious, and a bit hot. You didn’t know what he had, but his detached look and the way he didn’t instantly look at your tits made you feel a bit better, but also started a fire inside of you.
You took time to study him as he kept writing stuff. He was so tall his head almost hit the ceiling, his skin such a pale green color that looked almost white. He was handsome in a very extraterrestrial way, otherworldly. And then you saw his hands. They looked like spider legs, super long and with at least four knuckles instead of the two humans had. It was weird, so weird, but it did something for you. It picked your interest in hot way, in a way that made you wonder how would that feel against your skin.
“Why is your skin turning pink?” He asked, writing down some stuff.
“I’m embarrassed.” You explained, trying to sound as clinical as him. He looked at you with a face that asked you to elaborate. No words needed. “I am naked and you are not, and you are looking at me, and I’m naked.”
“Interesting. Is nakedness wrong by human standards?” He asked, as he checked something on the machine and wrote it down.
“Well, yes and no.” He made a weird sound that your translator didn’t get and kept pressing some kind of instrument to your head and neck, tickling you. You giggled and he looked intently at you, not saying anything but writing down in his tablet. He lowered his weird hands to your chest. “Ouch!” You slapped his hand away when he pinched one of your nipples with his way too long fingers. Your heart raced as he did it again. “Ouch!!”
“Uh, that’s interesting. Your heart-rate spiked. Why?” He asked, looking between your boobs and the machine, his confused face was kind of adorable.
“I- That- Nipples are a sensitive area for humans. For some humans, at least. For me.” You babbled when you were nervous and he was making you really nervous at the moment.
“Interesting.” He didn’t let you out of the hook, grabbing your boobs and massaging them to his heart’s content. You were struggling to remain quiet, his touch turning you into a hot and bothered mess. You always had very sensitive tits, and his hands groping you were more than a bit arousing.
He kept at it for what you felt like ages, groping your boobs, measuring them, pinching your nipples (softer this time). He explored every tiny millimeter of your boobs as you rubbed your thighs together in what you hoped was not too obvious manner. At some point, when you were about to draw blood because of how hard you were biting your lip to stop the groans for escaping, he moved his hands down. Touching your abdomen, taking notes, poking your bellybutton and making you giggle.
“Open your legs.” He instructed next, pulling at your ankle softly, looking at you with his big pale eyes.
“What? No!” His previous touch left you dripping wet, you could feel your juices all over your pussy and the inside of your thighs. You really, really, didn’t want him to find out he aroused you. Fuck.
“I have to inspect your genitals, too.” The clinical way in which he said it made you shiver, uncomfortable, but weirdly turned on. What the fuck was wrong with you? He was a doctor, he wasn’t trying to fuck you. You didn’t even like aliens. Right? Well, maybe you did like this particular alien. So you complied and opened your legs slowly.
“Why is it wet? Is normal for it to be wet?” He asked, parting your lips and grabbing some of your juice, taking it to his face to smell it. He poked his tongue out and tasted it, making you let out a groan. He looked at you, alarmed. “Well? Is it normal?”
“Is normal when humans are aroused.” You told him, trying not to groan again.
“Are you aroused?” He didn’t stop his exploration, not even looking at your eyes when he said that.
“Yes.” You whispered, completely embarrassed, feeling a bit humiliated at the fact that he turned on by just his medical touch. You were perverted.
“Interesting.” His complete lack of reaction to your words made you feel humiliated and confused, some more wetness leaking out of your gaping hole. His intense eyes focused in your pussy again. “It twitched!” He exclaimed. Two milliseconds later, one of his fingers was pushed inside of you, making you groan and arch your back.
He experimentally moved his finger around, hitting your G-Spot and making you moan again. “Does that feel good?” He retracted his finger just to push it back again.
“Yes!” You looked down, he had just two knuckles inside of you, the other two were still out. His fingers were longer than any dick you’d ever seen, and he looked like he wanted to push the whole thing inside. God yes. “More, please.” You begged as he crooked his head at you, confused by your reaction but starting to push deeper, adding a second finger and scissoring them inside, stretching you. Fuck.
When his long fingers entered you completely, he started to finger fuck you intently, thrusting in and out and touching your G-spot every time he could. He was driving you wild. And when another finger found your clit, you screamed, making him look up and then repeat the movement to see how your face looked when he did it. He never lost his medical look in your body, not seeming interested on you as a person, but just your human anatomy. It made you feel humiliated, and that fired the heat inside of you.
He played with your pussy like he was a master of it, touching all the right places, rolling your clit and rubbing it just the right way. Before any of you were ready, you were coming hard around his fingers, thrashing on the table and babbling nonsense between groans and moans.
He took his fingers away and shoved them in his lab coat pocket, saying: “That was very illuminating. Thank you.” He then turned around and went away, leaving you naked and panting on the table.
A nurse entered and with one look at you they said: “Ugh, he fucked you, didn’t he?” You tried to dress rapidly as they kept looking at you.
“What?” Your face grew hot, probably red as a tomato.
“He has a human kink and always fucks the patients.” The nurse looked infuriated and tired as they pinched their nose-like appendage on their face.
#monster#monster fucker#monster x human#monster imagine#teratophillia#monster x reader#terato#alien#alien fucker#alien x human#alien x reader#exophelia#x reader#fem!reader#request
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demonstration
originally on ao3
based on this post by @fantasylandloser
pairing: art donaldson (challengers, 2024) / afab reader [gender not specified]
word count: 1.9K
warnings & info: 18+, afab reader, college era art AHHH, friends to lovers, first time together, mostly smut, oral sex (reader receiving), art is a munch obviously, reader wears a bra and skirt
summary: Catching Art up on your adventures gets hard when he doesn't get your explanations, or your hand puppet examples. Looks like you just have to show him exactly what went down. Based on this post that i could not stop thinking about. :))
☆
“Oh my god, fuck you!”
Art chuckled from where he stood, watching as you tossed the t-shirt he’d balled up and chucked at you back in his direction. It fell harmlessly to the floor a foot from him, and you glared at him as he snickered, picking it up and putting it away.
You were visiting Art, your close friend from high school, at Stanford. At that moment, you happened to be explaining how an interaction at a party at your university had gone a couple weeks before. Art never really liked listening to you talk about guys- hence, the shirt thrown directly at your face when you’d started describing this particular frat boy to him in detail- but he’d given up complaining a while ago. It was either that or be honest about why he hated it so much, and that was never going to happen. So, he tidied up his room as you explained the lead up, the flirting, the stumbling up the stairs. He fell back parallel to you on the bed as you got to the “good part”, his head by your legs and an arm over his eyes, like he could block out the imagery.
“Anyway, I didn’t think it was a big deal at first, like when we were flirting, but then I was on him, kinda like-” You took a moment to sit up straight, grinning as art groaned and propped himself up on his elbows to see you better. He watched you attempt to mimic the position with your hands, your left hand being the guy you were talking about, your right being you.
To Art, it just looked like you were mashing your hands together. He looked up from your hands to see you raising your eyebrows at him, as if to ask if he was following. “Huh?” He said.
With an exasperated sigh and without another thought, you pushed yourself up on your knees and waddled over to him, swinging a leg over his body and hovering just over his torso. For a moment, Art just watched, bewildered, as you steadied yourself with your hands on either side of his head. He let himself fall back from his elbows, hands sliding up your hips and settling at your waist, catching momentarily on the fabric of your skirt. His fingers peeked just under the hem of your shirt. Your skin tingled where he touched you.
“... Like this,” you said finally, blinking at him for a moment. “Well, uh.” You moved your hands to his chest instead, careful not to push too hard (though with the muscle he’d acquired since he’d started playing tennis for Stanford, you were sure it bothered him much less than you thought). “More like this, I guess.”
Art nodded, quickly licking his lips before asking, “Then?”
You tried not to look at his mouth. “What?”
“Then what did you do?”
It finally hit you then: what the fuck were you doing, climbing all over your best friend to ‘show him’ how you and some guy had been fooling around a couple weeks ago? That would just mean fooling around with him, obviously. That wasn’t really the plan.
But, it was too late for your common sense to kick in now. There you were, your hips hovering over his, not quite touching yet. You watched his eyes dart down to your lips, then drag slowly back up to meet your gaze. You couldn’t wait here and think about what you’d gotten yourself into and how this would change your friendship forever, though you got the feeling he’d let you take as long as you wanted.
Then what did you do?
You steeled yourself, biting your lip and watching his lips part slightly as he tracked the action with his eyes. Then you took that moment to fully sit on his lap.
You could feel his chest expand beneath your hands with his sharp inhale, his eyes snapping down to your hips, then back up to your face.
“This,” you murmured. You’d intended for it to come out cocky, maybe even a little seductive, but you could hear the breathlessness in your own voice. You were trying your best to ignore the growing pressure where your hips met his, though really, it was hopeless.
Art’s ears were burning a bright shade of pink. The urge to gently nip at them crossed your mind, just for a moment. He cleared his throat. “Then?” His voice was almost a whisper, chest rising and falling unevenly with his nervous breathing. The way he was looking at you, like he wasn’t sure you were real…
Fuck.
You leaned forward, trying not to let your breath stutter at the friction caused by the movement, until your lips hovered just over his. Then you kissed him.
You pressed your lips together gently, lingering for a moment before pulling back by centimeters. His lips chased yours, his grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly, and you were right back on him, lips falling open against each other. A soft sound escaped him as your hips shifted against his, along with a contented sigh from you. You repeated the motion, reveling in the low groan he let out, followed by your name murmured into your mouth.
Art’s lips were soft. And he’d shaved recently, you thought, hands cupping his face. The smooth skin of his cheeks was a stark contrast to the calloused hands he was now raking over your thighs, your skirt pushed up around your hips. You broke away from his lips, kissing down his neck instead, listening to the noises he made whenever you left a mark, whenever you ground against him just right. “Shit,” he gasped. “You’re- You’re sure?”
“Yeah.” You left another kiss just below his ear, before murmuring, “What is it?”
You could feel him all but shudder beneath you. “Fuck,” he groaned, then your name, before he looked you in the eye. You resisted the urge to dive right back in. “Let me eat you out,” he said, suddenly determined, though still flushed and dazed. “Please.”
All you could say was “What?” because, surely, this was one big dream.
“Please.” His hands hadn’t stilled, still rubbing shapes into your thighs, his hips rolling up against yours. “Can I?”
Your entire body was on fire. “Okay, yeah. Yes.”
He wasted no time flipping the both of you over, laying you against the bed so he could kiss down your neck. You barely had a moment to process, your hands moving to tangle in his hair, one of his knees slotted between your legs. He tugged at the bottom of your shirt, prompting you to lift yourself slightly and help him get it off. Your bra came next. “You, too,” you murmured, pulling at his shirt and making him chuckle. He reached behind his head, tugging it off in one swift movement and abandoning it beside your shirt and bra on his freshly cleared floor.
One of his hands slid down your chest from your shoulders, enclosing one of your breasts, the thumb circling your nipple. You bit your lip and sighed, pulling him down for another kiss by the back of his neck.
Art let his hand trail from your chest down the sides of your stomach, then slotted his palm right between your legs, over your underwear. You gasped quietly, pulling away long enough for him to return his lips to your neck, your shoulders, your collar bone. You murmured a couple choice words as he started to move his palm, rubbing at your clit through the fabric. The dulled sensation was almost enough on its own, paired with the kisses he left against your chest. “Arthur,” you whined, tugging at his hair. “Don’t fucking tease me.”
A grin overtook his face at the use of his name, his hands only slowing down, tracing torturously slow circles over you. Art only snickered at your glare before hooking his fingers into the waist band of your underwear, pulling it down and leaving you in your skirt pushed up to your waist. He watched you carefully as he slid further down so that his head was between your legs. His finger only traced a line from your clit to the bottom of your hole before whatever restraint he had was gone, and his mouth was on you.
Art’s tongue flattened against you, the warmth and friction making your head fall back as your eyes fell closed. “Fuck,” you moaned, hands threading into his hair as he answered with an equally obscene noise, muffled against you. ‘Hungry’ didn’t even begin to describe him, his mouth falling into a vague rhythm, eyes closed blissfully, whining into your pussy like it was doing him just as much good as it was you.
You thought about asking him to finger you while he worked, but his tongue prodded at your entrance and almost immediately, words escaped you. You brought one hand up to your face, clasping it over your mouth to muffle your moans, but Art stopped suddenly, watching your face. You whined your confusion, and he reached out to tug at your hand. “I wanna hear you. Let me.”
You blinked at him, chest heaving, and murmured “Alright,” before watching his head dive right back between your thighs, one hand still intertwined with yours. You had no choice but to moan unabashedly, your other hand busy pulling at his hair. His free hand was wrapped around the outside of your thigh, pushing it in towards his head, so tightly you were sure it couldn’t be comfortable. But there he was, continuing to move his tongue against you like there was nothing else he’d rather do, whining and whimpering like you were his first meal in weeks. “Fuck, Art,” you cried, barely keeping your eyes open so you could watch him move. “You’re gonna make me cum.”
He groaned at that, relenting the pressure of your thighs against his head just long enough to reply: “That’s it, baby, please.” If he had anything else to say, he couldn’t keep himself off of you long enough to finish, already pushing your thighs back against his head, nose bumping against your clit as he bobbed up and down.
It seemed like that was all it took, really. You squeezed his hand and his head embarrassingly tight as you felt yourself tip over the edge, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. Art kept up his rhythm as you cried out his name, your hips rolling against his face. He didn’t stop even when you’d come down, chest heaving, until you basically pushed him off, desperate for a moment of relief.
He kept a hand on your thigh, the other untangling from yours to push his blonde hair out of his eyes and look at you. He was breathing as hard as you were, you noticed. His mouth hung open as he panted, the entire bottom half of his face coated in saliva and your arousal. Fuck, he was pretty like this. “‘S good?”
You shook your head, beckoning him toward you and pulling him down by the back of his neck when he was close enough. “You’re unbelievable,” you murmured, lips against his almost before you were even done speaking. You didn’t mind the stickiness. You pulled back to look at him, then glanced down to the tent in his pants. “Lemme return the favor.”
Art let out a breathless chuckle. “I don’t think I’m gonna last that long,” he said, somewhat embarrassed. “Not if you’re the one touching me. Not after this.” He gestured to the shine still on his face, to your thighs beneath him. Your face burned, and your smile was so wide that your cheeks hurt.
You shrugged. “Lemme try anyway,” you said, before bringing his ear down to your lips, nipping at the lobe gently. “Please?”
He couldn’t say no to you.
#wrote this instead of doing my final paper <3#art donaldson smut#art donaldson x reader#challengers#art donaldson x you#art donaldson#art donaldson in stanford save me#art donaldson/reader#art donaldson/you#art donaldson fic#art donaldson imagine#challengers x reader#challengers imagine#challengers smut#challengers x you#mike faist x reader#mike faist smut#zee writes#my writing#challengers movie#challengers 2024#ao3
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promise to take it ノ blade . dan heng . jing yuan
ৎ୭ ₊ ˙ ⊹ . 1.6k ノ fem reader — steamy . slightly rough scenarios . separately ノ blade — prone bone . doing it raw . cumming inside ノ dan heng in his dragon form, but not entirely . missionary . implied mating season lol ノ jing yuan — size kink . riding him but he’s still in control and a menace
blade ノ
while the bedroom itself remains an oasis of solace and a delicate space where you can be yourself, never judged by his ruby eyes despite his low huffs and puffs at any of your antics, it is now also a jail for your sobs. cries disappearing in the supple cotton of the pillow as blade pounds into you, rough hands gripping your wrists like a rope. oh no, he will not allow you to push his hips away.
not after you begged for this just moments ago with that adorable whine of yours.
the dripping slickness saving you from the punishment that is him rutting into you with abandon. his cock stretches your pussy wide, filling you to the brim with every thrust, and you arch your back against him, letting him impale you over and over again on his heavy girth.
he growls, his fingers digging into your soft sides, leaving reddened imprints, as he pulls you towards him. he slams into you roughly, his balls slapping against your overly sensitive clit as he fucks you without mercy.
you squirm in his grasp, trying to break free, but no, his grip on you is firm. he doesn’t want you to move. you’re here just to take care of his needs.
the man above you breathes out, his long black hair falling over his arms and tickling your shoulders. using your body as he pleases, relentlessly pushing until only his base can’t settle into your cunt. you whimper, your legs shaking as you feel his tip brush against your deepest spot, and he chuckles. he likes how you clench around him, unsure if you want him to leave you or to welcome him deeper — this is how he knows you’re getting close.
and so blade leans forward, his breath burning your neck, and bites on your irritated skin. you cry out, your soppy walls throbbing to lure him into your heat, and he grunts as he hears your juices plapping down his thighs. the way you cream all over his cock — awfully erotic — your wetness coating his length, and he picks up his pace, pounding into you with renewed vigour. he wants to cum inside you. to fill you up.
a high-pitched squeal escapes your lips, your silhouette shivering with uncontrollable intensity. the overwhelming sensation becomes too much to bear, and you find yourself unable to endure it any longer; still played with like a pretty doll, pressed to the mattress with all of his weight. blade groans, his girth pulsing, and he snugs himself deep into you, cumming in thick, hot spurts, your pussy milking him until the very last drop.
you mewl at his treatment, your wrists aching from his bruising grip, and he smirks, his red eyes gleaming. the way you look right now, his favourite image of contained desires. his dear darling.
he will make it up to you later with sweet kisses and gentle caresses, but for now, he enjoys the sight of his cum oozing out of your well-fucked cunt, dripping onto the bedsheets.
dan heng ノ
this position isn’t something new, however, and even though the fact is pleasant to think about, you do wonder what caused him to get so bold. maybe at the sight of you admiring his partially changed form, eyes drinking in the beautiful shimmer of his scales, he understood that you find him so attractive — as always, but now also intrigued by other parts of him that might be different.
his hand traces the lines of your ribs as you inhale at the feeling of him entering deeper — the unfamiliar shape of his cock nesting comfortably against your soft insides — and then he puts some weight on top of you, pressing you further into the pillows, his lips barely touching your own, unsure if he already wants to kiss you.
“tell me if it hurts you.”
“it’s alright, really. you can… you know, continue…”
“now i’m more concerned that you seem to like it more than when we’re doing it… gentler.” surprised at his own talkativeness, there’s a red splash of colour on his cheeks as he bites his lips at the end of the sentence and buries his face in the crook of your neck. you giggle at his comment, but it turns into a needy moan as he moves his hips to rest snugly between your legs.
with your tongue, you slide across his upper lip, capturing it softly and biting on its tenderness, tasting a faint trace of his salty sweat and humming as he shivers, your fingers tangled in his hair, brushing through the ebony black locks, before whispering, “i know you’re holding back. no need to, i trust you.”
“mmh,” dan heng mutters with a shaky breath as his shaft hardens and thickens at your reactions. your reassuring words have such an impact on him; they're teasing him with this pleading tone of yours, allowing him to mate with you during the times when he gets so incredibly hot in your presence, unable to keep his hands off of you.
his thrusts start slow and measured; however, with each minute passing, he finds himself succumbing more and more to the instinct calling upon him; it is so much different now that you’re within his reach — how you react, how you look at him — everything makes him lose his cool. soon his lips find your nipple again, teeth grazing sensitive skin until you hiss, yet push yourself towards him, arching your back. the sting of his bite stimulates you to the point where your inner walls spasm, clamping down on him tightly as you almost cry out.
even the shallowest strokes produce audible squelching noises whenever he loses his rhythm. he’s just as intoxicated by the new sensation. the little details that change in his build now make you two melt in each other’s arms; his cock glides with fervour and carelessness against the spots that usually required precision.
the pleasure is overwhelming, even a bit scary how accurate at bringing the sweetest of your sobs out. his instincts still force him to grip at your shoulders — you let him do this — to slam harder inside of your pussy. and you can barely take it, but he quickly looks at the side on the clock, and it’s been barely minutes since he started…
jing yuan ノ
he embraces you tightly, wide arms with ease groping your entire body as you shudder, and let him bring you closer, your back pressed to his soft yet firm chest — allowing his cock to reach deeper, spearing your entrance until your essence seeps out in abundance between your bodies.
usually, you would expect jing yuan to prefer being face to face with you, but also knowing what a menace he can be, there must’ve been something more on his mind. which catches you by surprise when you notice his fingers circle your clit from the front, sort of caging you between one pleasure and another as you helplessly try to wriggle out of his iron grip.
at that, what you hear is a chuckle — deep like the ocean, sweet like honey, dripping with both love and lust, and making you all fuzzy from within. the waves of immense enjoyment lap at your limbs from all sides, and you gasp out when his palm rubs you so skillfully, with care and adoration.
“no matter which part of you i touch… it’s a pleasure to watch you shake in my arms.“ he purrs with a small smile, nibbling at your earlobe and inhaling the sweet scent of your hair. you wish to nod but can't, in fear that it’ll only spur him further on to bounce you on his cock and enjoy how you struggle with each thrust. “does my beloved bird feel good?”
before you can answer — which you would love to, gathering the strength and courage to wail and sob into his lips as your head falls back on his shoulder — his palm moves up from your bundle of nerves to your tummy, pressing on the soft flesh there. intently. he knows exactly what to do to get a specific reaction out of you, to make himself moan as you clench abruptly on his girth despite your walls sobbing at the stretch. you feel so full in that moment, choking on your breath at the additional pressure, too occupied with his cock filling your body so wholly.
as he starts to fuck you relentlessly — you cry out, the pitch of your voice higher and higher as you slowly become incapable of maintaining any volume at all — the tiniest sounds, broken huffs of air leaving your mouth; your eyes are glassy with tears, and all you want to do is bury yourself in the pillows and blankets, somehow escape from this prison of bliss. but he holds you close, one hand fondling your breast and the other playing around your lower abdomen, always there where you don’t want him at the moment, just to tease and make you more and more desperate.
a little flick of his thumb against your pearl, a press on your belly, maybe even fingers parting your folds as he drags his fat tip in and out at the perfect angle. it’s enough to throw you over the edge again.
as if your body belonged to him — and he, being the ever caring lover, already knows everything about you, that you enjoy it too much when he manhandles you like this.
#—writing.#hsr x reader#hsr x you#honkai star rail smut#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail x you#hsr smut#fem reader#blade x reader#blade smut#dan heng x reader#dan heng smut#jing yuan x reader#jing yuan smut#jing yuan x you
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HOW THEY E4T YOU OUT !
feature: choso, nanami, gojo, geto, sukuna, toji
content: 3.3k+ wc — pssy eatin, spnking, degradation, sqrting [request are always open] mdni + not proofread
CHOSO KAMO ꔫ
Devours you every chance he gets as if he’s going to die if he doesn't.
His eyes were tired and his back was slumped when he arrived home like usual. On the days when he needs to leave for work and return once more, his muscle memory always searches for you before anything else.
He came in, forgot to take off his shoes, his phone in hand and an exhausted look on his face.
“Bad day Cho’?” you asked.
“M’just tired.” He hummed out.
“Aww i’m sorry Cho’ how can I make you feel better?”
“Can I see her?”
୨୧
“Mmngh can never get enough of your pretty pussy, baby— please.. she’s sho’ mghn delicious..”
Choso is a man who makes you tremble while he cries as he proceeds to eat your soul out. A man who cums in his pants just by looking at your pussy as if it were his first time seeing it. Because he doesn’t want to do anything but eat your pussy and make you feel good.
It was over the moment you allowed this man to taste you. His only desire now—was to have his face permanently pressed into your folds.
Choso keeps his face inside your pussy as if he were scuba diving, fuck the goggles. He thinks eating you out only ended successfully based on how messy he was when he finished.
With both palms keeping you spread open nice and wide for him. Like there’s a reward beyond the coma inducing orgasm destined to be achieved for the both of you when he’s done. He wants to see your cunt in full view, and access to every nook and cranny possible.
He’s needy and messy, he’ll stuff his face like he lost his house keys in your cervix. And doesn’t see himself done until, your juices are soaking more than just the bedsheets. He aims to see the mixed cum and saliva dripping down his chin and far past his stomach.
He just can’t help it, he wants to make you feel so good he's a pussy pleaser.
“F-fuck baby mmnghm, am i doin’ ghud p-pretty?..” he whines, his eyes hazy and lusted as his tongue makes rounds on your clit. Sucking and mumbling with his mouth full.
“y-yes jus’ like that cho’ so good f’me mmm…” you struggle, your palms ruffling through his hair for support.
“S-so good..thank you–mnuh thank you..” He slobbers sweet nothings to himself as the thousands of taste buds on his tongue individually roam in and out of your folds. Leaving no bare of your skin un-sampled. Tasting everything there is to taste without fail.
“Uhng, cho’ r-right there m’so close..!”
Abusing your clit with ease as he promptly twists and prods his fingers out and back in. “you gonna come? n-not yet, m’ not done—keep going just a little more..baby pleashh~”
NANAMI KENTO ꔫ
Caresses you with one goal in mind, that is the satisfaction that comes with making you finish.
When you knocked on his door and made your way inside, he was in a virtual conference.
The mere sight of him making your pussy excruciatingly wet.
His arms were visibly exposed, and his sleeves were rolled up. His clothing appeared tighter, especially with the veins on his skin throbbing. The buttons on his shirt could have easily burst from the way they were begging to be undone.
He glanced at you and motioned silently for you to come sit on his knee while he muted his call.
"baby, what's wrong?" he asks, sliding a hand to your waist to hold you in place on his thigh.
“Nothinnn’ just miss you is all,” you lie, leaning down to give him a quick kiss to his temple.
“Is that so?” he questions, his glasses slipping down just enough to reveal his content eyes.
“Mhmm I reaaally missed you ken’”
"I can feel you rocking your weight on my thigh, so don't lie to me."
୨୧
“Sit on my face baby—let me take care of you”
Although Kento Nanami is always pent-up, he is able to maintain his composure. He can, has, and will keep going for hours. He will drop to his knees and encircle your thighs with his huge arms the moment you ask him to. With his face burying deeper into your cunt as if he were employed on a graveyard shift from 9 to 5.
After all, he's a gentleman, which means that he's hooked on seeing your body shake just by making out with your cunt. The boulder in his pants twitching with every lustful movement the scene in front of him causes.
He’d never stop until you finish, making sure you emptied all you had on his tongue, before he makes you do it again on his dick.
“Umngh– that feel good sweetheart?” He goes on, your shaky legs being forced apart by his grasp so they are unable to get in the way of his view.
“Mhmm–keep going ken’ feels soo good..” you moan.
Kentos a clit lover. He never concludes these sessions until your clit is puffy and your pussy is gaping from his fingers.
And every time you are at a loss for words, frantically seeking for something to cling onto, he leaves a mental note that makes you whimper when he does it again.
He stones both his middle and ring fingers inside of you despite never once letting go of that puffy clit he deems so tasty. He sucks, strokes, and makes out with your pussy like a natural.
He’s the type to have an area 51 lockdown on your thighs, the type to let you grab a fistful of his hair and let you ride his face at any tempo your little heart desires. His palms rubbing circles on the inside of your thighs—leading you to your final destination.
“You’re doing so good—that's it, make me taste how good im doing love...”
GOJO SATORU ꔫ
Loves the way you give up under his touch, fighting against the orgasm he’s gonna take from you.
“Satoru Gojo, knock it off..!” you huffed out. you had enough of him toying with you all day.
He asked to go with you on your errands and promised not to get in the way.
Yet he’s been teasing you all day, telling you how good he’s gonna fuck your brains out. Putting his hand on your thigh in the car, just to play coy and ‘accidentally’ slip a finger through the hems of your panties.
Even as you were trying to reach an agreement on a new game for you and him to play, he made attempts to grind your ass against him.
"Huuh? Satoru Gojo? Who’s that? M’names toru," he chuckles.
"We’re in public, Satoru. You’re being so annoying." you groan rolling your eyes at him, before moving on to the next row.
"Whattt, a man can’t love on his girlfriend nowadays?” he exaggerates, following immediately behind you, copying your steps.
୨୧
“P-Put it in already toru’…!” you whined.
“You weren't this eager for me earlier…” he gasped dramatically, kissing up your thigh, pulling your panties down in the opposite direction.
“Quit teasing Toru’ jus’ need you in me...”
“If you wan’ it inside, gotta show me how eager you are to cum on my face baby...”
You won't believe how sloppy and vulgar this man is when he's eating you out.
Your eyes will be drawn to the back of your head by him. He'll put his blindfold over your eyes and make you only able to see stars.
His thick and lengthy fingers have enough ability to take the wind right out of your lungs and reach farther than any toy could alone.
“Hah..c-can’t toru’,” struggling to catch your breath, you try to push his face away.
He’s a man who makes sure to pleasure you first. And makes you cum no less than twice on his tongue. He swallows everything he can, and makes you cum again if he didn’t get it all the first time.
"C'monnn baby—mmnm, know your pussy got another one in her, tell her to give it to me.." he laughs.
Satoru loves to watch your body unfold under him. He adores the way your throat reaches the highest octave you can afford to give. The way he pulls countless moans out of your throat, causing your voice to crack. He loves to hear how much your ‘can't take it toru’” fuel his ego just so he can get ready to show you just how much he’ll make you take it.
He finger fucks you like crazy. Maintaining the pad of his thumb on your clit while stuffing your cunt onto his fingers in a rhythmic motion. He never wastes time to put his mouth to work.
“Too much toru’ gonna squ—nghmm..!” you yelp, getting cut off by the way he scoots your ass closer to his face—allowing him to focus on the deep areas within your pussy, causing you to squirt then and there without the ability to stop.
“Good fuckin’ job baby–wouldve mmhp- brought an umbrella if I knew it was gonna rain today,”
“...”
GETO SUGURU ꔫ
He takes his time eating you out, he just wants to see how desperate you can get for him.
"You were moving so much, love. What's the matter? Had a nightmare?" Geto asks out to you.
Gaining consciousness slowly, you watch the strands of his hair fall, concealing his half open eyes, before he pushes them back over his head.
Initially he turned away from you in an attempt to cool down your side of the bed since he believed you could have been feeling too hot. But when you kept shuffling under the blankets, he decided to wake you up.
"Mmm, no, it was more like auhh..." you pause, pondering on what you’re going to say, sitting up to rest against the headboard of the bed.
"Like what?" he inquires, positioning himself to align with your stance.
"You know..." You feel a little ashamed at the thought, but you avoid his gaze until you hear his laugh fill the room.
“Aw my pretty girl havin’ wet dreams about me?”
Throwing a pillow at his face as you huff out, “It’s not funny Sugu’, I genuinely couldn’t sleep…!”
“Why don’t you show me what I did in your dream then, hm?”
୨୧
“Go on uhmngh, let’s make your dream come true–as much as your pretty mmh.. pussy desires,”
Geto wants to see how horny you really are for him. He adores nothing but to see how desperate you really are to get off.
“uhhuhnn r-right there baby..” your breath hitching, while you ride up and down his mouth.
He watches you mindlessly use him like you’re the one in control. He’ll let you fuck his fingers—your nails clenching the strands of his hair, undoing the bun he wrapped up prior.
He feels the way the heels of your feet are snug deep in his broad shoulders. And he doesn’t care, because all Geto can care about is the way you’re haphazardly slamming your pussy in his face without loss.
He’ll agree when you say you need a moment, only to slam you back down on his face when your movement starts to slow. He’ll latch around your waist with the fore of his arms, and shove himself deep between your thighs.
“Sugu’ mnghn—slow down p-please..!” Playing dumb on how your vindications for him slow down fall on stone-deaf ears.
“Mmmnghm you said faster? sure thing baby..” Smirking into your clit while he devours you—his grip only gets tighter, mocking the same way your fingers begin to tighten against his scalp.
“Mmmn sugu’…don’t stop…c-cummin’ nghh-guh!”
Geto damn near inhales your cunt at this point, giving himself no air as he breathes and digests everything that comes out of your pussy, emphasising the slurping noises his lips bring as they're mingled in your folds while you squirt in his mouth.
“Atta girl..Can’t sleep now though, might as well keep goin’ till sunrise.”
SUKUNA RYOMEN ꔫ
He wants to drain the thoughts from your mind and watch you falter under him.
“Why are you ignoring me?” you press, but get an annoyed sigh in response.
You’ve asked him to let you accompany him multiple times so you could watch him box-train, and while usually he says no–today he said yes as an excuse to show off his pretty fiancé. Yet, he was pissed when he watched a group of shirtless scumbags surrounding you with brags about their meager accomplishments.
He saw you giggling up a storm but you weren’t laughing because of him and that thought alone made his blood boil.
"I was just bein’ nice Kuna’, so I'm not sure why you have an attitude."
"Maybe it's caus' you wanna go around flirtin' with every guy in the damn gym." Sukuna scolds, pulling his duffel bag out to put away his gloves—rolling his eyes in advance as he slams his locker door.
"I did not try to flirt! They came up to me, asked about you and then the talk continued. A cordial discussion some might say," you joke.
“Oh yeah? What were they sayin’ then?” he scoffs, raising an eyebrow at your remark, leaning against the locker doors, an action forbidding you to walk away.
୨୧
“t-they we’re just sayingnn t-that you..—you mghn!”
Sukuna either goes all out or doesn’t, and when it comes to you, going all out is just the tip of the iceberg.
He’s a man who hates getting dirty, but when it’s your cunt? You know it’s ate right when your mattress is stained through like a sponge.
“I-I what brat? Spit it out." he spites, making fun of your efforts to speak—his fingers breaking and entering you with ease.
Sukuna's cruel and wicked, if you will. He has your pussy leaking and accessible to him completely. Eating and finger fucking you enduringly.
The filthy squelches and slurps fill both your ears whilst he fingers you till your internal juices coats his fingertips.
“that you–hah…w-win lots mphm…K-kuna pleash..!..can’t breathe..please..” you begin to writhe beneath his lips, swallowing in shock at his ruthless touch.
You can tell him to let you breathe and that you can no longer cum, all you want, but he doesn't bother to listen.
The palms of his hand repeatedly make contact with your ass, torturing the skin below them and causing acute pain on your cheeks, leaving no place for pity.
“Yeah? s’that why you were gigglin’ and given fuck me eyes?”
He makes it his mission every time to eat you so good no matter what you do it’ll never be enough. He’ll make sure those half assed attempts to get off alone don’t result in a happy ending without him.
“Mmgnh n-no! I wasn’t–ah..promise–I p-promise k-kuna’ please it hurts..!”
“You wanna play bimbo while I’m trainin’, but actin’ all innocent when we’re alone?” he hisses.
With his tongue stretching deeper than any man could ever hope to, he gives himself the advantage to tongue-fuck you all over by moving his palms under your lower back, titling your pussy deeper on his face.
“N-no!...g– mmm g-gonna’ cum..! so—close kuna..”
He finds it amusing how sensitive you are. “mnnguh …cum brat—since that's all y’wanna be good for.”
“K-Kuna m-mmmngh—!...”
Only allowing you a few moments to return to consciousness before he's prepared to fold you again like an expert origami master at work.
“Who said I was done? Open your legs n’ give me another one whore.”
TOJI FUSHIGURO ꔫ
Wants to humiliate you as you squirm and watch him violate your folds.
Toji didn’t play when it came to his gym routine and to have you with him every night as his gym partner was even better. He said he would take care of it for you, when you looked into what to wear to the gym, and he did just that.
He got you a matching colored windbreaker and Nike biker shorts. He wasn't giving it any consideration at first, merely noting that it'd be more breathable.
Up until the moment he realised he was staring at your ass each time you got on the treadmill. Addicted to the way the material made your ass appear, as you passed by his station.
His cock tensed because of the way the dark velvety material flaunted every curve of your pussy when you moved.
Sensing you approaching him as he was finishing up a set on the weighted arm raises—he dwelled more on the way your ass seemed to converse with him while he watched you slip into his line of sight.
"Hmm?" he hums, completing his final rep. He goes to get a complimentary wipe from the cleaning station and walks back to wipe down the machine. Leaving it sanitised and ready for it’s next use.
“Toji baby, sorry to interrupt but can you spot me next?”
"Oh, I see," a sneer lifted on his scarred lips as he continues; "finally doin' it today huh?"
You put on a smile and take over his former position. “indeed, I decided to give some new workouts a go today! I’m pretty excited y’know?”
He nods, "there's no rush, jus’ go slow, lemme know if it's too much."
“Yeah yeah yeah…I got this [...] wait Toji, aren’t you supposed to be by my arms?”
୨୧
“Thought you were excited a minute ago, all that energy go to your pussy?”
Toji Fushiguro, experienced and tongue-talented. You'll be cruising to the finish line like a race car thanks to him. He takes good care of your pussy—forcing you to understand how much he will always know your pussy far more than you and anyone else could.
Especially how the tiniest of friction from him that causes your walls to spasm on his taste buds—confirmation in itself.
He’ll force you to keep your eyes open and watch—as he makes love with your cunt.
“Keep your eyes open doll— m’ tryna see them turn white”
“Hmmph! T-Toji…What if someone comes in?...ngh, ah—“
“The only one cummin’ is you,” he retaliates.
With his left hand, he pulls back both of your legs as he utilises his right. Your whole-body quivering amid him from his constant clit assaults.
He finger fucks you swifter than previously, and immediately senses your insides clenching around his fingers, forcing you with no choice but to be filled to the brim, and disoriented due to his tongue.
“The thought of you bein’ caught spread open on a weight bench got ya’ pussy pulsatin’ huh?”
“Mmngh a-absolutleey..not…!”
Studying as a wave of humiliation passes over your expression, he puts a couple harsh palms to your ass with a SMACK. Making the area sting over and over, as the air creeps to irritate the burn.
“Denyin’ with a straight face as if I can’t feel you smotherin’ my fingers? Fuckin’ slut,”
“m’ not a slu-ngh–! Toji’...mmmh”, whimpering—you reach for the edges of the weight bench looking desperate for support.
“Wan’..mmm wanna cum Toji…please,”
“You wanna cum?”
“Mmhm!—” you cry out, your voice wavering in response.
“Only sluts get to cum—mmmh, ptuih—but yer not one of em’ are ya’?” he tests you, spitting on your clit as though your sopping pussy hasn't already caused enough fluids to run down his throat.
“Mm–m’ n-not–nnmugh!"
“You know what I wanna hear ma’ say it.” he demands, adding another finger to the two, fucking you fuller.
“I-Im a s-slut toji…mgnhm a slut—a slut for you, please let me cummmngh!—” you babble out, not even sure if it's for him anymore; the words bring nothing but a warning to anyone who hears—unable to stop. Feeling yourself reach your limit against his tongue.
“You’re so needy—mmngh cum like a good lil’ slut then,”
#@bewere#jjk smut#jjk x you#jjk x fem!reader#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#toji fushiguro x reader#toji fushiguro#toji smut#toji fushiguro smut#choso kamo#choso x reader#choso smut#choso kamo smut#nanami smut#kento smut#kento nanami smut#kamo choso smut#fushiguro toji smut#gojo smut#geto smut#geto suguru smut#gojo satoru smut#sukuna ryomen smut#sukuna smut#gojo x reader#sukuna x reader#toji x reader#kento nanami x reader#gojo x female reader
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Hiiiiii!!!!!!! I recently got back into criminal minds and devoured all ur hotch fics like a MANIAC (you write. So unbelievably well. Im also in love w ur tasm peter stuff, you are just such a good writer thru and thru) and that one request where Jack calls reader mom for the first time really stuck w me so I was wondering if maybe I could request smth of the opposite? Like not-so-single mom!reader and hotch have been dating for a while and her lil girl calls him dad for the first time :3 🖤🖤
thank you for requesting! 💌 —your daughter calls Hotch dad for the first time. fem, 2k
“Come in, come in!” Hotch says, the door held ajar by his arm, forcing you to squeeze in and save the heat. “Quickly, honey, please, get out of the rain.”
Sarah bursts in through the door and away from the rain, her vinyl coat covered in raindrops, her boots wet with mud. “Aaron!” she says, pulling it into something softened and excited at once, though her ‘r’s are weak, closer to ‘w’s. “I missed you.” She jumps from one foot to the other.
He makes sure you’re safely inside before he abandons you. It’s not very kind to you, but he can’t help himself. “Sarah,” he says, without your daughter’s sweetness but heavily fond, “I missed you more, honey. How many days has it been?”
“Four!” she says, holding up four fingers as Hotch grabs her by the waist.
He doesn’t mind her wet coat, working an arm around and beneath her to shuck off her muddy shoes. They topple to the ground to unveil damp socks.
“Oh, no, your socks are wet. I did all the laundry while we were waiting, I have some warm ones for you in the dryer. Should we get you out of this coat?”
“Where’s Jack?” you ask.
“Eating. He was starving, couldn’t wait.”
You kick your shoes off and gather them with Sarah’s to line up by the door. Hotch takes off Sarah’s coat with some one-armed manoeuvring, aware of her smiley gaze following his every move.
“I,” you say, pressing a swift kiss to his cheek, cold lips to his rough skin, “am gonna go to the toilet really quickly. Hi, handsome.”
He savours your kiss and watches you go. He owes you a better greeting, he missed you just as much as he missed your girl. For now, he wipes the cold from Sarah’s cheeks and stations her comfortably on his navel.
He loves her like his own. He’s privileged to get the opportunity, and it’s hard not to feel that low level of awe whenever she’s around, because she loves him the same way. Sarah waits for him to smile before she wraps her arms around his neck, long enough to twine her fingers in the short hair she finds there.
It’s funny to love someone you had no hand in bringing into the world, but no less real. He’d do anything for Sarah. I miss you doesn’t cover it, but it’s a start. “I missed you,” he murmurs, not well-versed in baby talk but always willing to try for his kids. “It’s so nice to see you. Jack missed you too, should we go see him? I can change your socks.”
He ushers her back enough to see her. She has such loving eyes, not shy at all as she nods her head. “Can you make crackers?”
He beams. “Oooh, yes. Crackers and cheese and apple slices, I know what you want, honey. It’s ready for you in the kitchen.”
Things weren’t easy at first for either you nor Hotch. He works too much, and you both have priorities that can’t be shifted, but the connection between you was easy. Love, undoubtedly, pretty much the moment you met, even if it scared him. He never thought he’d get a second chance and he’s not sure you thought you’d find yours either, and yet loving you has been as helpless as loving your daughter. He doesn’t have a choice and he doesn’t want one.
In this time, you’ve found routine. He’s introduced the idea of moving in together and you’re excited for it, though concrete plans haven’t been laid. There’s a lot of questions and no need to rush into answering them yet. He has no intentions of letting you go now —Hotch will do anything it takes to keep his small family.
Today, right now, that’s crackers.
“Sarah!” Jack says when he sees them, jumping off of his chair to climb on top of it. He holds his hands out and Hotch leans down with a loving laugh to let his son hug her. “You’re back!”
“I’m back,” she agrees.
“Do you want some of my sandwiches? Daddy made me two.”
“Yes!” she says, wiggling to be put down and given what he’s promising.
Hotch fights to take her to the sink and wash her little hands, to her horror and whining. He says, “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you gotta wash your hands before you eat.”
He puts her in her own chair, and it is Sarah’s chair, outfitted with a big pillow so she can see the table and marked by a pink star sticker, putting a placemat in front of her. Jack quickly pushes one of his sandwiches towards her. “There you go.”
“Thank you, Jackers,” she says.
Hotch smiles. Despite their different interests and ages, they’re quick to get along.
He shouldn’t pry while you’re in the bathroom, but he worries about you. “Honey?” he calls up the stairs.
“I’m just changing!”
“Yeah? Can you bring some socks for Sarah, please?”
You shout back something incomprehensible. He returns to the kitchen, where Sarah looks over the chair with pleading eyes and asks, “Crackers?” a piece of lettuce stuck to her chin.
“Ah,” he says showfully, turning to the fridge to grab the plate of crackers, sliced cheese, and apples he’d Saran wrapped an hour ago. He peels off the wrapping and places it in front of her. “Here, sweetheart. Do you want anything else? Maybe some chips?”
She laughs and grabs a piece of apple without answering him.
“What about you, sweetheart? Drink?” he asks Jack.
“Yes please, daddy.”
Hotch makes Jack a cup of orange juice and Sarah a sippy cup, hers diluted some with water. He places them down in front of the kids, crouching between their chairs, intending to stay and chat. “How’s that?” he asks, tilting his head to the side to listen for your light footsteps on the stairs.
“Thanks, daddy,” Jack says.
“Thank you, daddy,” Sarah echoes, reaching for him. Hotch offers his hand, startled, not quick enough to hide it. She doesn’t pay any mind to his expression, pleased to have her hand held and her big plastic plate of crackers to munch on.
“Why’d you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” you ask, passing him Sarah’s socks, and rounding the table to stand by Jack's other side. “Hi,” you add, ruffling Jack’s hair, “look at you, gorgeous, you got your hair cut.”
Hotch rubs Sarah’s knuckles, trying to phrase it, not sure how to tell you with the kids still there. Will Sarah feel embarrassed if he brings it up so swiftly? Will she feel like she’s done something wrong? Will you?
“What’s wrong?” you ask.
He decides to present you with the situation. He’s not manipulative, but clever. “Mommy got your socks, too. Can we take these cold ones off, is that okay?”
“Yes, please,” Sarah says.
You watch in confusion. Hotch gives you a quick look. Trust me for a second.
He eases the socks off of her feet, laughs when she laughs at his tickling, even if he’s not quite sure how to feel. Happy, he gives her toes a squeeze and bunches a sock up to pull it over her heel and up to her ankle. “One,” he says, repeating the process with the same tenderness. “Two. There we go, all warm again, Sarah.”
“Thanks, daddy.”
You breathe in.
Sarah puts some cheese on a cracker and offers it to Hotch, who eats it while you summon him away with silent parent talk. He kisses her forehead and wipes it clean as he goes.
“Did she do that when I was upstairs?” you ask quietly.
Hotch knows you. Loves you, but knows you intrinsically. He knows just by looking at you that you’re happy, but you’re worried about something, and it’s not hard to guess what it is: he might not want Sarah to call him daddy, and telling her not to might break her heart, and yours too.
“She did.”
“She’s never… expressed that interest to me.”
“Sometimes they think about things more than we know.” Jack still surprises him as he did when he was a toddler.
“She just loves you,” you say.
“I love her. She can call me whatever she wants to.”
You hold his wrist, taking a step closer to him. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure.” He murmurs now you’re close, ducking his head to yours, two halves of the same heart looking at one another’s hands. “I love her more than anything in the world. I want to make her crackers for the rest of my life.” Hotch puts his index finger to the soft skin under your chin. “Maybe by tomorrow she’ll forget she called me daddy and she’ll never say it again, but… I want her to. Is that okay?” he asks.
You lean up to kiss him and you nod into his lips, which makes it hard but not impossible to kiss back. “She loves you so much,” you say quietly. You’d only wanted a quick peck.
He might’ve said he loves her more than anything, but there’s a level on which he holds her and Jack where you sit too. He loves you. You made Sarah who she is all by yourself, and you’re so lovable standing in his reach. You’re perfect.
Maybe he’s feeling sweet because Sarah called him daddy.
“I think Jack confused her,” he says.
“Maybe. You are, you know, her dad. You do everything a dad would.”
Hotch slots his leg between yours and leans back to force you into his favourite kind of hug. You laugh slowly, hug the same, your arms sliding up over his shoulders to wrap behind his head, your hand cupping his hair.
He closes his eyes and feels your waist.
“You don’t have to worry,” he says.
“I don’t worry about you and Sarah, I know you love her. I guess I just worry about us. Not that you don’t love me, Aaron.”
“Big changes,” he guesses in a whisper.
“Big changes.”
He encourages you away to hold your face. He hopes that waiting with you in quiet for a while can explain it better than words.
Your shoulders finally relax.
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#hotch x reader#hotch#hotch x you#hotch blurb#hotch drabble#criminal minds
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Monster Mayhem: Siren's Song [Part 3]
Gender Neutral Reader x Vil Schoenheit
Word Count: 5.2k
Summary: Teaching a Siren to read is perhaps the best or worst idea that you've ever had. If only you were half as capable of reading between the lines.
[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3]
‘U-G-L-Y’
“Wow,” you drawled. “What a wonderful use of your new talents.”
The fish you were cooking landed upside down on the hot stone with a crackling sizzle of skin that you could feel as a jumping prickle of heat all along your arm. You poked at your impromptu stovetop with your impromptu stick-spatula and prepared your impromptu leaf-plates. A true culinary connoisseur, you were. When you were rescued, you were going to argue to Riddle that you deserved a promotion to the kitchens. Though, apparently not everyone appreciated your talents.
‘UGLY’ the Siren poked again, jabbing his talon into the sand.
“Then bring me prettier fish,” you returned, pointed. “It’s not that hard.”
His sharp, black claws came up to point at you next alongside his wonderful, two-syllable insult. Then back to you again, with four fingers this time. Both hands going for it. There was a tight, irritated expression on his face that you refused to call a pout because firstly, surely this vicious king of the seas could never pull something so childish. And secondly, because in these past few days you’d developed a terrible habit of just chattering each and every one of your thoughts aloud. And if you called him bratty, or dared imply such pouting was coming from his regal visage, you were just setting yourself up to get drenched by his flailing tail all over again.
“You can’t hurt my feelings,” you said, bland. “Ugly is the nicest thing you’ve ever called me.”
He huffed and smacked his fins against the sand. The trailing, dark tips cracked against your leg and you kicked him right back. It didn’t actually hurt, no more than a pinch to the side, but you’d spent enough time with this asshole now that not fighting back like a toddler pitching a tantrum wasn’t an option anymore.
Just over two weeks, now. Fifteen days and counting.
Those first few days had been spent in a nervous, prey-like panic, of course. Watching him circle the bay with his shredded fins, crying at the top of his lungs until your goosebumps had goosebumps. And then you’d helped untangle him from the mess you’d made, delicately working salt-brined twine away from weeping wounds. Sure, there’d been that whole hoopla of him pinning you in the sand after your act of Great Chivalry and promptly threatening to rip your throat out with his teeth, but you’d moved past that. The offering of home-cooked meals had softened his scaly hide, and then the even greater move of handing him your species’ alphabet like some great, guarded secret of old had sealed the deal. Cheers all around. It’d only taken you nearly being eaten, disemboweled, and drowned, but you’d made peace with your roommate. What a success story.
And now instead of trying to murder you, he just called you U-G-L-Y.
So, you know, baby steps.
The thin, pointed end of his tail whipped up from where you’d kicked him to twine around your ankle and give a sharp tug that had you sprawling face first into the sand with an oomph. Your great tumble sent all those pretty letters of his scattering in the breeze, and you spat out a mouthful of grit.
“Here’s a new one for you,” you chirped, digging your fingers into the muck. F-U-C-K—Y-O-U.
The Siren yowled, which you’d come to recognize far too well as a prickle along your nape and that forever echoing tug, tug, tug somewhere in your head that could never return the call with its corresponding answer. His tail flailed out again to smack at your hands. It was thick, and scaly, and all smooth, powerful muscle. The fact that he hadn’t crushed your poor fingers into a sad, bony paste by now beneath its wrath was a miracle. If you were a more optimistic person, you’d say he was being extra gentle with you on purpose. But even you weren’t delusional enough to think he liked you that much.
“Okay, okay,” you grouched, spitting out another mouthful of pebbles. “Fine. Just not around the food. Unless you want to have to go hunting for dinner all over again.”
The Siren huffed, rolling his eyes like it was a professional sport, and settled himself prettily back against the butt of his tail like he’d never even tried to beat you to death with his fins at all.
You sighed and pulled yourself back out of the sand, scrubbing it from your salt-sticky skin as best as you were able. You returned to poking at your fish. They weren’t too terribly singed, despite your distraction. And the Siren seemed to like the edges extra crispy either way, so it wasn’t any kind of loss. You were in the middle of balancing your impromptu stick-spatula against another impromptu stick-spoon to try and flip the fish without destroying it entirely when you felt a gentle poke, poke, poke against your arm.
You looked back and the Siren stared down at you, lips canted in a sharp smirk that was all pride.
U-G-L-Y—A-N-D—S-T-U-P-I-D, the sand said.
He’d been struggling with applying the whole -pid noise to the proper lettering, because of how similar it was to -ped. And the spelling had been tripping him up (with much obvious frustration) for the last day or so.
“Well done,” you sighed, not even too terribly upset that it had taken you months in Riddle’s impromptu classrooms to learn what he was picking up over the course of a few, harried sessions delivered with broken bits of sharp sticks and an ever changing canvas. “Try this.”
You scribbled another message in the sand. An insult, naturally, because he seemed to like those. You sounded out the letters as you hopped the tip of your finger over them one-by-one, and the Siren stared down at the inscription with the sort of intense focus meant for ancient tomes or sacred texts. You watched his lips move silently as he sounded it out alongside your mini-lesson, and then he was reaching forward to trace over the letters with the curved tip of a claw—knuckles bumping yours for a moment before shooing your hand away.
You returned to your dinner—finishing up the poor, murdered fish as best as you could and doling it out as usual. You reached out to hand pretty boy his leaf-plate, which he took like a lord accepting a meal from a lowly servant. All upturned noses and pointed disinterest. He set it beside him and nibbled on the offering as he continued to study the new task you’d given him—grand, purple fins splayed out at his sides to brush against your hip like a habit. And this was your life now, apparently. Sitting and frying lazy, shallow water fish over a heated stone while your Siren student studied curse words in the sand. If you managed to survive this, no one would ever believe you.
.
.
The wrecked ship called to you like, well, did you even have to say it.
(It felt like a low hanging pun at this point. You’d never be able to use the expression again for as long as you lived without thinking of narrowed, purple eyes nearly rolling up into the back of a too pretty head because you were apparently that annoying.)
Every day when you ventured towards the western side of the islet to feed your teeny, round octopus friend, you couldn’t help but sit and stare at the shattered hull. It’s not like it was in any sort of shape to actually get you off your little, sandy prison, but it was… There was something about it that was familiar enough to scratch an itch in your brain, but just alien enough that figuring out what was itching was outright impossible.
Silver songbirds.
‘Not safe,’ the Siren had demanded, with an almost frantic look to him. Not safe.
Every time you tried to venture closer to get a better look, it was like he could feel it. And he’d be pacing the shoreline like a blood-frenzied shark—rattling off muted, angry complaints the whole time that popped against your skin like soda fizz. So, lesson learned. Keep away.
It was a particularly sweltering afternoon today. Not a cloud in the bright, blue sky and nary a breeze to be seen. Sweat was beading unpleasantly along your brow and all down your back, and you hated it. At least on the Rose Queen there had been shade. And the lower decks of the ship submerged in the waves had always felt at least a little chilled. You could practically feel the damp, cool wood against your cheek. The smell of salt and pine oils in your nose. But here, on this stupid not-island with its barren trees and nothings, you just had to suffer in silence. The memories of your ship had you thinking of the washed up Songbird all over again, and you were in the middle of a heated, internal debate over making a swim for it again when something cold rained down over your face in small, scattered droplets.
You blinked back into focus to see Mister Merman at your ankles. You’d been sitting with your heels in the water, but no deeper. Because the shallows were still his territory, and while he hadn’t tried to hold you under in a while now, it was hard to forget something like that so easily. You didn’t really want to chance it if a foul mood struck him, no matter what sort of fragile truce seemed to exist between the pair of you lately.
Last you’d looked he’d been sunning himself on one of the wide, flat rocks—as he was wont to do. Lavender-tipped hair splayed out along his cheeks in a pool of soft gold and fins spread at his hips like the finest, plum silks. How he never seemed to burn with that delicate, ivory skin of his you had no idea. Maybe it was a Magical, Mystical, Merman perk yet undocumented. Or maybe he was just Like That. But he’d been snoozing away on his favorite boulder, and now he had rolled in with the tide to lounge by your toes. His fingers were spread, still dripping with sea water from where he’d flicked you in the face. You frowned at him—partly curious, but also pissilly blinking salt out of your eyes that stung, because come on dude.
He flicked more water your way and said something that you couldn’t manage to catch the shape of. When you didn’t respond with anything other than a pointed scrub of the water dripping down your cheeks, he reached out to wrap a clawed hand around your ankle and give a gentle tug.
“What?” you frowned, confused, and he tugged again.
He canted his head towards you, and then out to the cove behind him. He slipped back with the soft, frothy roll of the waves—just a foot or two—and clearly meant to pull you with him. You slid against the sandbar with a yelp and dug your heels into the muck to keep from getting yanked all the way in.
“No way,” you snipped, kicking a mess of water into his face. He didn’t even blink, just frowned down at you with a twisty sort of petulance. “I thought we were over this. If you drown me you won’t get any more cooked food, y’know. And I, in turn, would very much like to not be drowned. Win, win.”
That frown of his went stiff, and his lips twitched down at the corners. His amethyst eyes darted away and for a moment you swore that those gemstone irises flashed with something almost like guilt. He rolled forward with the next curl of surf and pressed a claw into the damp, dark sand at your hip. He scratched out a careful message, stubbornly refusing to meet your gaze all the while.
Won’t, it said.
“Forgive me for not believing that,” you returned, dry. “You’re oh-for-two now, I think. And, you know, fool me twice, and all that.” Though maybe the first one didn’t really count, seeing how you were both tangled together and sinking to the bottom in a mutual sort of destruction. But whatever. You were keeping it.
The Siren’s brow pinched in the middle and he reached forward to dig his claws in again.
Accident.
Your own brows jumped nearly to your hairline. You were just about to politely point out that dragging someone to the bottom of the ocean until they were bubbling from the nose and flailing wasn’t really an accident,but then you remembered the startled look on his face. The way he hadn’t stopped you from clawing your way back to the surface and how he’d carefully helped tow you back towards the shore after. And… maybe he hadn’t really meant it. It had to be strange, probably. Being able to thrive so easily below the waves and then be faced with someone who would die if they were left facedown in a puddle.
“…Fine,” you huffed, and his eyes jumped back up to yours with all cat-in-the-cream smugness. “But just because I’m about to drop from heatstroke. Not because you asked.”
The Siren rolled his eyes at you and returned to dragging you by your ankles into the shallows.
The bay really was very lovely. It was crystalline clear and the sort of brilliant blue that you’d never even known existed until you’d left the land for a life on the open ocean. The sand below your feet was soft and white, with barely any pebbles or broken bits of shell to dig into your toes. You watched a few crabs scurry out of the way as you were led deeper and deeper, but most of the cove’s occupants were spoiled and slow. Unbothered by this weird, fleshy, bipedal creature stepping past because they’d never known anything else. Once you hit waist-deep, the Siren let go of you to sink more fully into the water. He swam around you in a languid, looping circle—plum fins cresting the surface to flick water against your arms and scales shining like polished glass in the sunlight. It was still far too shallow for him to move around in earnest with how massive that tail of his was, and how wide and trailing his great, beta-like fins were, but he was still elegant. Still fast and flexible as he swam rings around you like an orbit.
“Show off,” you scoffed, but couldn’t quite bite back the grin twitching at your lips.
Because creature from the deep trying to devour your crew or not, Sirens really were so impressive, weren’t they? Straight out of a storybook, and deserving of every song and tale attributed to them.
You reached out before you could help yourself to run your fingers along his tail. The scales were smooth, and sleek, and cool against your palm. The wispy ends of his fins caught along your fingers, but other than a bit of a tangle, you almost managed to run your hand along the whole of it. And what was it? Eight feet? Ten? Bigger than you at least, that was for sure. It wasn’t like anything you’d ever felt. No fish, or whale hide, or shark. Something entirely of its own.
You realized on the next loop when your fingers danced over a patch of still healing scales that you’d felt already that he had most definitely realized your err in personal space, and was letting you poke about on purpose. You glanced up, embarrassed and warm faced, to see the tail end of a smirk quirking out from the water’s surface. Preening bastard.
You turned up your nose and waded deeper. There was a ripple in the water around you, like a chuckle, and he returned to his looping circles. Occasionally his tail would brush up against you to get you to jump, but otherwise he kept his hands to himself and—as promised—did not attempt to wrestle you down to the sandy floor and your subsequent watery grave.
Once you’d made it up to your chest, the Siren was able to start his dance in earnest. He darted away to make a wide arc around the edge of the cove—sunshine catching on his scales like a glare on the water. He shot from one end to the other, so fast it was nearly dizzying to try and keep up with. And then he was back to circling your ankles all over again—tangling your legs in his fins and curling his talons against your calves to try and drag you deeper.
“Okay, okay,” you laughed, paddling after him until you were well and truly above your head. The bay wasn’t very deep, but there were a few areas that dipped down to at least fifteen feet. So soon enough you were bobbing like a top in the gentle surf as he looped around your idly kicking feet—brushing up along your ankles and tugging at the frayed edge of your shirt with his claws when he passed by.
When he next rose above the surface, you’d already taken in a big mouthful of water in preparation, and shot it right into his face. The Siren’s whole expression shriveled up like a hundred-year-old prune and you laughed so hard he had to curl his tail around your waist to keep you from dipping under the waves and choking yourself. You let him drag you around and only grabbed at his fins a little. He would dive below your feet and you’d sink after him. Not nearly as agile or adept, but competent enough to follow his little game of tag without losing completely within the first few seconds. It was—it was nice. Genuinely. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d swam for the fun of it. Way back when you’d first joined up with Riddle’s crew, maybe. It’d been a hot day, just like this one, and you’d been anchored in a safe, shallow inlet off the coast of an archipelago. Deuce and Ace had jumped in first, already brawling, and you’d dove in soon after. It’d been a mess, and Riddle had nearly hung the three of you up by your toes for it. But it’d been fun. Familial. Warm. Something you’d never forget. And while this moment didn’t feel entirely like that one had, there was something similar about it. Sure, you weren’t trying to give the Siren a bloody nose and there were no rock wars, but it was… well, it was nice.
By the end of it, he was swimming lazy, looping shapes around the cove, and you were being dragged alongside him like a raft—kept afloat by the curling press of his tail and relaxing in the afternoon sunshine with the cool ripples of the ocean water to keep you both comfortable in the heat.
“Do you do this a lot?” you asked, as you relaxed in the gentle lull of the surf. “With your pod, I mean.”
The Siren stiffened beneath you, but after a moment he nodded. Slow and rigid. Which—
Oh. Right.
“…sorry,” you mumbled, gaze darting away.
Because he was missing his family just as much as you were missing yours, wasn’t he?
All that frantic pacing at the start of your mutual stranding had just seemed to… fade away as the days passed. He would still circle the entrance of the cove some mornings, singing towards the skies and tilting his head—fins pricked as he searched for an answer. You’d feel it in your nerves, see the gulls overhead dipping in a trance and watch the crabs crawl up onto the sand like they were being dragged out by their little claws. But most of the time now he just… didn’t. He spent his days mumbling over the letters you showed him, or carefully preening over his healing fins and resting in the sun. Catching fish for you to prepare and roast, and taking his meals at your side as you both snipped at each other with sandy curse words. It was pleasant, this routine you’d fallen into together. But all the same, he never really stopped checking the ocean waters. And you could see a spark in his eyes, an itch. The same one that lit yours, no doubt, every time you caught yourself squinting for the outline of ships on the horizon.
The difference between the two of you, of course, was that in a few more days his scales would be healed enough to face the dangers of the open water alone. Life as a rogue mer was notoriously perilous. The lone Sirens were those that poachers were willing to risk battle with for a trophy. They were the ones caught in fishing nets, and found mauled by rival pods. But your Siren was smart. He was big, and strong, and impressive. He’d find a way to survive it, no doubt. One morning you’d wake up and he’d have darted off into the deep to search for his family. To go home. And you…
You would still be trapped here.
Alone.
Forever.
Rotting under the sun with no one to take you swimming in the afternoons. Or bring you clawed up fish to cook for dinner. Or to use your writing lessons just to insult you with scribbled words in the muck.
Which—that was what you’d wanted, wasn’t it? At the start of all of this.
And it was only fair, in the end. He was the better of the two of you, after all. Born and bred to thrive in the depths of the sea that would swallow you whole without a thought. And if either of you was going to survive, to find your home again, it was always going to be him. Maybe you’d be a story, like he would have been for you. The strange human with no ears, just like the rest of the pirates whispered about. Who taught him that fire could make fish extra tasty and that leaves could make perfectly serviceable plates if you tried hard enough.
You sighed, and bubbles of salt water frothed along your mouth.
The Siren raised his head from his own lazy sprawl to arch a brow at you in question, and you did the very mature thing of spitting water in his face all over again.
You ended up being dragged through the cove in a flurry of spitting, Siren rage. Laughing and laughing until he huffed and hauled you back to shore to keep you from swallowing any more seawater like the idiot that you were. And it was fine, really it was. He wasn’t so bad, not really. And if he was able to reunite with his pod once more after all those days of hollow wailing and pacing, pacing, pacing that had made something deep in your soul itch like a freshly scabbed wound that you just couldn’t stop picking, well, that wouldn’t be such a bad ending after all.
.
.
The next afternoon while you were out on your daily Octopus Wellness Check, you came across a piece of pale, purple sea glass mixed into the rocky shore. It was smooth to the touch and frosted over by the endless tumble of the tide. You held it up to the light and it sparkled just like the Siren’s scales.
“What do you think?” you asked the octopus as it grabbed shredded bits of fish with its chubby, little tentacles. “Do you want it? Or should I give it to—”
You blinked, startled, and realized all at once that you’d never learned the Siren’s name. Or given him yours. You’d just sort of been calling each other a variety of derogatory pseudonyms and hoping for the best. Which, huh. You hadn’t even realized you’d wanted to know his name. It wasn’t yours to take, of course. Let alone from someone who would no doubt be leaving so soon. But it was a thought.
“You always give the best advice, you know,” you told the teeny creature, and it hid from you like you were a great, looming monster of old. “Whether you meant to or not. Thanks for that.”
So on the way back to your cove, you picked through some tufts of beachgrass to find the longest, driest spikes. You began winding them together as you walked, and settled down in your favorite little corner of the inlet to continue your weaving. The Siren, naturally—being as nosy as he was—was immediately hovering over you like a child watching someone hold a bag of sweets just out of reach. You clutched your little project to your chest like a secret, and it had him puffing up in irritation and smacking his fins against your sides like your refusal to share whatever had caught your attention was a crime beyond comparison. He arched up as tall as he could to try and peer over your shoulder, and, in failing at that, just outright tried to snatch the thing from your hands.
“I won’t give it to you if you keep being a pest,” you warned, and immediately he was slipping back to rest on his stomach in the damp sand with a starbright curiosity in his eyes, chin pillowed atop his interlaced fingers and gaze following the movements of your hands like a cat tracking a mouse in its hole. Clearly the promise of it being a treat for him was mollification enough to keep him from hovering.
Once you’d braided a sturdy enough chain, you carefully twined it around the sea glass in a little, crisscrossing cage of fibers. Just knotted enough to keep the ocean-worn trinket safe and in place without hiding the shine of it. With that, you held up your trophy with a dramatic wave, and the Siren was popping up all over again. His amethyst glare tracked the swinging pendant with startling focus and a surprisingly wide-eyed spark of confusion.
“Here,” you said, reaching out to drop the makeshift necklace into his lap. He caught it in his claws, eyes still far too round with shock. “It made me think of your scales. I thought you might like it.”
He was staring down at the gift in utter silence. And not the normal sort of quiet either—where your broken eardrums simply refused to pick up on all his petulant grousing against your person. This was actual silence. His lips were parted like they were caught on a breath, but he wasn’t saying anything. Not even a complaint about how plain and ugly it was. He curled his claws daintily around the woven chain, as if he was afraid of tearing right through it with an accidental prick, and then held the sparkling bauble aloft like he was utterly entranced by the soft gleam of it.
After a long, long moment of that near eerie silence and a pool of dread filling your belly that screamed you’d clearly fucked up in some way (overstepped some weird, Siren tradition. Accidentally insulted his father. Handed him a bad luck omen on a string. Something), the Siren was twisting around to show you the back of his neck. He held up the woven chain so it draped along his shoulder blades, and he pointedly shook the ends at you.
When you just gaped back in shock, he turned to sneer over his shoulder at you and jabbed a claw at his throat, then the necklace, then you, then his throat again. Which, oh. Oh! That—that you could do.
So you reached out to pluck the ends of the grass-woven thread from his talons and he immediately shifted around again to make himself comfortable. Curling his tail firmly against the sand with his plum-lined fins spread out in all their glory like a spill of purple ink along the shoreline. He set his shoulders square and firm, and looked straight ahead with that same, queer sort of focus to him as before.
You tied the ends of the necklace in a bow against his nape, making sure it was securely fastened in place and not snagging any of the softer, shorter hairs at the back of his neck. Once it’d been fussed with to his liking, he turned back around and stared you down until you could feel goosebumps prickling up all along your spine. You wanted to meekly tell him that it was just sea glass. Just a little trinket you’d found in the sand that you’d thought was pretty enough that he might like to have it. But the words died on your tongue. They felt wrong somehow. And you’d put your foot in your mouth plenty of times throughout your life, but this definitely felt like it would have been the biggest boot of all.
“…You like it?” you tried instead, because that sentiment at least seemed less like something that was ready to clog up your throat.
The Siren nodded, firm, his eyes still drilling into yours with that unnerving level of focus.
You coughed into your fist and awkwardly attempted to shift away to give yourself a bit of room, and—Huh. When had his tail come up to wrap around your leg? That made running away a bit inconvenient. You’d just have to try and wriggle your way out and hope he would take mercy on your far inferior musculature, and—
There was a poke at your hip. Tap, tap, tap. One, two, three. And you glanced back up at him with a pinched frown, confused.
The Siren pointed to a scrawl in the sand. Tap, tap, tap.
Acceptable.
You gawked, and then swallowed a laugh so fast it nearly choked you. Because he was still himself, wasn’t he? No matter what. Sassy, asshole fish. Gods, you were going to miss him.
You wiped at the bubbling, giggling tears prickling at the corner of your eyes and reached out to pat at his tail in good humor.
“I hope you find your happy ending,” you beamed, and meant it.
The Siren just looked at you with one of his familiar, lemon-sour puckers. He pointedly reached up to flick at the necklace around his throat, like that had anything to do with him finding his family again at all. Like it wasn’t just some silly trinket you’d gifted him in hopes that maybe one day he could look back fondly on the little human that he’d found himself stranded with. To not just forget you outright. To make your fleeting presence in his life something tangible, rather than just a mess of already fading scars and memories that would too easily be swept away in the depths of the sea.
“At least it’s acceptable,” you said finally around your giggling, and he huffed at you in a way that almost looked fond. You stood from the sand and brushed the mess of grit and salt off your pant legs. “Come on. Let’s go have dinner and I’ll teach you some nicer words tonight. So you can give me a real compliment next time.”
There was spray of water all along your back from where he’d no doubt dove back into the shallows behind you and walloped you with his fins to the best of his ability. And honestly, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be bothered by it at all.
.
.
[TAG LIST - CLOSED]
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#twisted wonderland imagines#twisted wonderland#twst x reader#Vil Schoenheit x Reader#Vil x Reader#vil schoenheit#Mermay#Monster Mayhem#My Writing#vil shoenheit#Siren!Vil#Mermaid!Vil#Fantasy AU#Monster Mayhem Vil Part 3
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drabble...
FEATURING : AITO SOUSUKE (OC), DAISUKE YUICHI (OC) x male reader
"I c-can't! I can't do this anymo- anghh! I can't cum anymore- aahn!"
His throat was sore from moaning, his neck bare with bite marks and hickies littering (s/c) and his legs were spread and forcefully held up by the redhead behind him. Said redhead tightened his grip under (m/n)'s knees, kissing his hair. "You can do more. We know you can." Sousuke mumbled.
Daisuke was panting, his pale skin now flushed pink with his eyes fixated on the twitching cum-filled hole he was fingering. (m/n) was crying, his cheeks wet and his bottom sore.
They've been at it for hours in this small janitor room. Their school clothings discarded aside, Sousuke was currently behind (m/n) on the floor, leaning against a closet and holding the (h/c)'s legs up, rubbing his dick on his (s/c) back.
Daisuke was on his knees, fishing out the redhead's cum from (m/n)'s hole with his fingers, frantically flicking his wrists and jabbing his digits in and out, rubbing against his rim, eager to enter the (h/c) for the nth time that evening.
(m/n)'s legs were sore, his thighs ached and his mouth was stretched open half an hour ago, two dicks competitively pushing past his lips. Even while having sex, the two were still childish and would argue for the smallest things.
"You're so hot, (m/n)." Daisuke kissed his chest. "So sexy." He purred, licking a stripe on his nipple, laying his tongue flat and teasingly dripped his saliva on the sensitive bud. "D-Daisuke- mmnhh! Enough please! Just finish up already- anghh!"
He mewled when Sousuke poked his tongue into his ear, licking and biting the shell and occasionally thrusting into the canal. This made him squirm against Sousuke, accidentally rubbing his backside onto the redhead's red and leaking tip.
"I'm gonna go in now." Daisuke grinned lewdly, his shirt was gone and there was only his briefs hanging on his hips, exposing his fat chest which had multiple teeth marks courtesy of (m/n).
The (h/c)'s head was hot and dizzy, his skin was warm but leaning against Sousuke's own burned even more, the redhead went wild on him earlier but now he was treating him like glass. Kissing and pampering (m/n) while rubbing his thighs as Daisuke slipped his wet dick inside the (h/c)'s slobbering hole.
"Ah aungh mmnn- f-fuck it's too much!" He threw his head back, his forehead sticky as he locked eyes with hazel, Sousuke gazing into (m/n), his long red bangs sticking to his face. The room was dark and small but he could still see the glint behind those hazel iris.
"Focus on me, (m/n). I'm the one fucking you right now." Daisuke roped the (h/c)'s lips into a kiss, pushing in deep inside him before pulling out slightly and began to pound his hips, thrusting inside (m/n)'s messy and twitchy hole. "D-Daisuke- mmff! Mnng haa!" He squealed when he felt Sousuke biting his neck, imprinting the shape of his fangs on his skin.
Sousuke's cock was rubbing harshly against the (h/c)'s lower back every time Daisuke pounded into (m/n). The bottom could feel the precum slobbering against his ass and dripping onto the wooden floor. The smell of sex was strong and evident, filling (m/n)'s senses as he opened his mouth in shock when Sousuke began to jerk him off, pinching his sensitive tip, forcing the (h/c) to cum.
(m/n) whimpered, his tongue getting sucked by Daisuke as milky semen shot from his tip, splattering all over the ravenette's stomach. His anus tightened and Daisuke moaned in surprise as he shoved his hips into (m/n)'s, his hands gripping his waist as he came inside the (h/c) while his tip was kissing his prostate.
The (h/c) panted, his tongue flat against his chin Sousuke pulled his hair, angling his head so he could kiss him. Their tongues were hot and lapping up against one another as Daisuke pushed Sousuke to the side to join the sloppy make out.
(m/n) choked, feeling two wet muscles probing his mouth, his own tongue weak and flat while thw two were shoving themselves against his teeth, his gums, his palate. Their salivas were dripping into his throat, forcing him to swallow their spit. Daisuke began to grind his cock that was still inside him, urging to start again before the redhead pushed his stomach.
"My turn." Sousuke gleamed as he pulled (m/n) onto his lap, angling his cock before letting him sit plush on the tip. "I c-can't. I really can't cum anymore." He whined, gasping and arching his back when he took half of the redhead's base in, slowly swallowing it inch by inch.
"You keep saying that seven rounds ago. Think' you can still take more." Sousuke teased the (h/c), his eyes concentrated on the plush of his ass meeting his crotch. "You're so f-fucking mean-" (m/n) whimpered before Daisuke comforted him, cooing at the (h/c) as he peppered kisses all over his face.
The ravenette took his spent penis and grabbed his own, slowly jacking them off at once as (m/n) mewled. He felt his jaw grabbed from behind as Sousuke whispered into his ear. "So I'm gonna start on the count of-"
His hips were pulled upwards before it was slammed on Sousuke's large thighs, making the (h/c) scream as the redhead began to force him to bounce on his hard cock. He was rough and loved to tease (m/n) whenever Daisuke was around, the ravenette frowning as he yelled at Sousuke for being an asshole.
More tears dripped from his lower lashes, staining his cheeks with salt other than the cum both of them had shot on his face earlier. (m/n) was having a hard time breathing, his walls were roughly dragged against Sousuke's base, his tip stabbing his insides. The redhead was only mean and rough whenever Daisuke was around weirdly enough.
Said ravenette began to shove his tongue inside the (h/c)'s mouth, swallowing his cries as the redhead behind him was enjoying the sight of his ass tightening and bouncing against his crotch. Cum dripped on his skin, he loved it when (m/n)'s hole was wet and dirty, loud squelching noises entered his ears every time he thrusted.
(m/n) didn't even realise when he alone had started riding Sousuke, his waist being gripped by scarred hands and his body was bending down. His lips were dry as his head was bobbing up and down on Daisuke's cock, the ravenette moaning loudly while gripping his hair.
Salty semen coated his tongue as he slobbered all over Daisuke's cock, his eyes and body tired as Sousuke continued playing with his ass. His cock was left twitching, drooling watery cum from his tip and he flinched when he felt his the dick in he was sucking came, choking and swallowing the semen that poured into his mouth.
Sousuke thrusted up against him one last time and he stilled, pulling out and spraying his dirty cum all over (m/n)'s ass. His bottom was now wet, dripping and had marks all over his skin. Daisuke also gently pulled his head up, his saliva connecting his tongue and the ravenette's tip as said person wiped the cum that dripped from his lips.
"Good job, (m/n). You're so good to us." He could only mumble back to Daisuke, his head blank and foggy. Sousuke kneeled properly behind him while propping him up. "You did great. The best for me. And for him."
He spoke while kissing his jaw. The (h/c) numbly nodded while Daisuke began to wipe him down and Sousuke moved to grab his clothes. He let the two take care of him, letting his fatigue catch up to his body as he promptly passed out. A rare sight of the redhead and ravenette working together to take care of the tired (h/c).
[END SCENE]
[unedited]
Afterthoughts :
I got horny during separation process class. So boring but im learning ig. Imma disappear for the next two weeks but i think ill post another drabble in the next two days or so. I made this in two hours so it was a bit trashy or so.
It was hard to find a picture I liked. I think I'll replace it soon. I only like coloured pictures but manhwas threesomes panels are so fucking ugly I can't💀
Until then!
Edit: NOT ME GETTING FLAGGED RAHHHH💀💀 IVE BEEN WAITING. I still dont like the new picture and i will change it idc☺️
Edit 2: this ones better (?) the position is accurate too. Is this one getting flagged too?😭🙏🏼
Taglist : @tehyunnie @rainnyydaysworld @webwanderer @a-short-ass-disappointment @chikai-k @mello-life25 @miyuuuki @syyyy4ever
#oukabarsburg#bottom male reader#sub male reader#x male reader#aito sousuke#male reader#x bottom male reader#male reader smut#oc x male reader#daisuke yuichi#oc x male reader smut#oc x reader smut#oc x reader#male oc#oc smut#uke male reader
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handled.
minors dni. minho x fem!reader.
hands on necks (not exactly choking but choking adjacent). dirty talk. slightly rough piv. soft!dom minho.
It's not what you expect, the first time someone reaches out to wrap their fingers around your throat. It's during a lesson in self-defence, part of a compulsory skill. You flinch away as their fingertips graze your skin, scrunching your shoulders at the unnatural feeling. It's not a neutral act, a simple experience of skin on skin.
There's something deep down, an instinct designed to make the feeling of another person's hands around your neck inherently discomforting.
It takes many attempts for you to build a tolerance to it, the anxious feeling never settling completely despite your ability to hold still.
It was hard to imagine how the act could ever elicit anything other than that deep, instinctual urge to squirm away.
Until him.
His fingers flex as he tugs the black glove down his wrist a little further. It's a vital part of his costume as far as your concerned, a last minute addition ties up his all-black theme perfectly.
"Are you having fun?" you question, back pressed against a wall in a dark corner of the room.
The New Year was around the corner, the costume party in full swing around you. It'd taken a doe eyed look and a soft kiss to his neck to convince your boyfriend to join you.
He offers you a small lopsided smile, the delicate lip ring balanced prettily on his lower lip. "Mm," he hums with a small nod.
You tug him a little closer, "You sure? I know it's a little more crowded than I—"
"I'm fine," he says, the bare fingers of his glove free hand stroking gently over your wrist. "I'm all good."
If you were being totally honest with yourself, a (not so small) part of you hope he'd ask to leave. Getting him dressed up like this was the best part of the entire night, you'd decided. Now, you'd very much rather be at home taking the costume off him than stand around in a crowd of drunk partygoers.
The lip ring presses into his plush lip a little as he nibbles at it for a moment. You could leave the accessories on him. The ring, the silver necklace hanging around his collar—just long enough to tickle your chin if he was above you... and then there was the glove. Your eyes drop involuntarily to the hand in question.
"What about you?" Minho asks, tugging your eyes back to his.
"Hm?"
"Having fun?"
You blink.
He smiles, keenly aware of your propensity to drift elsewhere. "What you thinking about?" he asks. You would have answered him. You were too far into your relationship to be timid about such things. But then... then he reaches up with that hand... the dark, smooth fabric cool against your skin as he tilts your chin up a little. "Talk to me," he encourages gently.
Oh, he knows. Of course, he knows.
"Do you like my costume?"
His eyes drop down your body quickly. "Mm," he hums. "Very pretty."
"I like yours too."
He fails to suppress an amused, knowing smile. "Yeah?" His hand drifts from your chin along your jaw, coming to rest just below your ear. It allows his gloved thumb to play with your lobe a little as he steps into you a little more. "What do you like about it?"
"Fishing for compliments?"
"You seem desperate to offer them."
You frown, "No."
"No?" he questions, stepping even closer. He's pressed against you now, warm and dark—a barrier between you and the rest of the room. "My sweet girl wouldn't lie to me." He leans over you, lips brushing your jawline. "Would she?" he adds with a whisper. His breath tickles, hot against your sensitive neck.
You realise your error then. It was too late. The time had passed for you to drag him home and tear the dark clothes from him in the privacy of your shared apartment.
It was happening here.
Your eyes flick quickly across the room before you're grabbing his wrist and tugging him along with you, dodging drunk friends and acquaintances as you beeline for the hallway door.
Minho chuckles behind you, letting you tug him along without resistance.
You'd let you of tomorrow contemplate the decisions you make next. When you find each room taken, occupied by a couple or a group of intoxicated friends, you tug open the laundry door and slam it behind you both. There's a small lock on the door handle. You twist it.
"You like it that much, then?" Minho says from behind you.
He's leaning against the washing machine when you turn, arms crossed—sleeves rolled to his elbows.
You take in a few shallow breaths before he's stepping towards you and lifting you off your feet. It shouldn't be as easy as it is for him to lift you on top of the dryer. He settles between your legs, hands gliding up and down your thighs a few times.
His dark hair has loosened a little over the evening, the hairspray you'd used to keep it in place off his forehead giving into the humidity and copious tousles by distracted fingers. There's a lock hanging just over one of his eyes.
You reach up to brush it aside delicately.
"I lied," Minho whispers, seemingly prompted out of silence by your action. "When I said it's pretty..." he thumbs at the hem of your dress where he's slipped it up your thigh. "...I lied." His fingers brush your skin on one thigh, the fabric of his glove is cold against the other. "Pretty isn't right," he continues. "It makes me want to hold you down... sink into you..." His gloved hand snakes up your side slowly, coming to rest at the base of your neck. His fingers are splayed out across your collarbones, just below the point that would normally make you itch to squirm away.
"Min?"
His eyes flick up from your neck. His fingers twitch against you. "Mm," he hums. It's a sweet sound, in total contrast to the way he looks at you. Like he wants to tear you apart. You find you like the idea. You also find... that you wish his fingers would inch up just a little.
It's not a thought you dwell on. Instead you reach up slowly, like he might spook, and wrap your fingers around his wrist.. then slowly... gently... you guide his hand up to your throat. His eyes stay fixed on yours; his fingers ghost light on your skin.
"Don't look at me like that," he says as your fingers squeeze his wrist. "All fucking sweet like you don't want me to—"
"Please," you interrupt.
He leans forward with a groan, lips pressing to the side of your neck. He squeezes slightly at the movement. It's enough to have you dropping your head back.
It's different. It's so different to how it'd been with a stranger, with someone other than him. This makes you want to crawl under his skin, beg him to hold you and consume you—to take you. His. His. His.
"Minho," you gasp as his lips part and suck at your neck, his wet tongue poking out to lave at the marks he leaves as he goes.
His hand stays at your neck as he works, a comforting and steady pressure. He's got you, it says.
A tiny clink breaks you from your trance. His lip ring is gone when he pulls back, fallen into the dark and bouncing off things around you as it goes. You could not care less. You tug him back towards you, hands at the back of his neck to guide him. His lips are wet and hot against yours, moving with a laziness that did not at all align with upbeat music and countdown starting outside.
His tongue slips out to meet yours, his body falling over you a little in a desperate attempt to get closer. 8...7...6... the partygoers chant. Your fingers grasp at his hair, tugging a little. He whines. 3...2... You could be anywhere... you ponder as the cheers start and the new year begins. You could be anywhere and anytime, and all that would matter would be whether he was there with you.
His breath comes out in deep gasps when you finally part. It's a brief reprieve. He's on you in the next second, tugging your hips towards his and burying himself inside you. It's your turn to attach yourself to his neck, kissing and biting your way through his sharp drives into you. The dryer bangs against the wall behind you with each one.
"This what you wanted?" he gasps as you fall back on your hands. His hands grasp your hips. One warm. One cold. "Hm?"
His lips glisten with spit, a mixture of each of you. You're about to reach towards him again, desperate to taste him, when he releases one hand from your hip.
It's the bare hand this time, that wraps around your neck. It's worse—better. His fingers twitch each time he pumps into you. Your pulse flutters against them. You can feel it.
Then he pauses, tugs you flush against him—buried deep. "My sweet girl," he says. He presses his fingers into your skin at each side of your neck. It doesn't cut off your breath, instead, your cunt clenches around him—your high taking you off guard. It's a rush, a heaviness in your head that seems to match perfectly with the heavy, fullness of his cock buried deep.
There's something deep down, an instinct designed to make the feeling of another person's hands around your neck inherently discomforting. And then... there's this.
#stray kids smut#lee know smut#lee know x reader#lee know fanfic#kpop smut#kpop imagines#skz smut#stray kids imagine#stray kids imagines#kpop scenarios#stray kids scenarios#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#skz imagines#stray kids fanfic#skz scenarios
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prompt: forced throuple au; Ghost decides that you and Johnny are his (part 6; ghoap x reader)
parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
-
Johnny cleans up the lamp in the morning.
He might as well, being on second watch and all. Ghost wakes him up at the ass crack of dawn with a gentle kick to the ribs (gentle for him) before rolling over on the couch and going right to sleep. It’s routine for them to fall into sleep like rocks sinking in water, but the waking up is never quite as graceful. Johnny snorts awake and whips his head around sharply from side to side before confirming that he’s just in his girlfriend’s apartment and the asshole that woke him up is just his ornery lieutenant.
“I better not hear any fuckin’ jabber,” is all Ghost says before closing his eyes. Johnny chews his lip to keep the grin off of his face.
He tries to keep it down after that. For the first couple of hours, he sits up against the wall and scrolls on his phone. That keeps him occupied until any lingering exhaustion is flushed from his veins.
There’s a broom and dustpan in a small closet in the kitchen where his girl also keeps the garbage bags and compost bin that he uses to sweep up the mess, and he tries to make as little noise as possible while he cleans up. The glass makes a tinkling sound as it’s swept up though, just loud enough that it inevitably wakes his girl up.
She comes creeping out of her room late into the morning, the shop not due to open for another hour or two. The late weekend opening hours mean she usually gets to sleep in.
Weeks back, it used to be something that Johnny got to do with her as well, cuddled until she’d suddenly pull away, then waking up to her swallowing his cock, peeking under the bedsheets to find her pretty head bobbing up and down his length. Groaning and palming her head to press her lips down to the base, eyes rolling back at the sound of her gagging around his length, the base of his dick a mess of come and drool.
In the present day though, she clears her throat. Johnny blinks and refocuses on her.
Her eyes flit to Ghost’s still form on the couch and when they dart back to Johnny, he raises a finger to his lips. Let the man rest. It’s the least Johnny can do for him after he dragged him back to his girl’s place to make amends. She hazards another cautious glance at Ghost—his lieutenant lies still as a statue on the couch, motionless like he isn’t even breathing—before pursing her lips, displeased.
In the light of day, his previous anger feels cleansed. He understands now. They’ve gone about this all wrong, topsy-turvy. He’s been chasing his own tail and making a mess of things for far too long now, but Ghost’s voice is clear in his head now. It settles him.
So when his girl goes to open her mouth, maybe thinking that she can whisper softly enough so as not to wake Ghost up, he steps forward quickly and covers her mouth.
She squawks behind his hand. Again, he shakes his head. Any sound would be too loud for the man slumbering on her couch.
Johnny can feel her swallow behind his palm and it almost makes him salivate. His fingers twitch on her cheeks like he might press them into the soft skin and make her lips pout.
“Not here,” he murmurs, almost mouthing the words.
He waits until she nods before removing his hand. Then he leaves to go dump the dustpan filled with glass into the trash.
She corners him in the bathroom after that and it’s all he can do not to come in his pants. It’s not his fault he’s been trigger happy since Ghost tugged them off on the sparring mats and came on his stomach; he’s been pent up since the last time he saw her. There’s still flakes of dried come on his belly. He only half resists lifting his shirt to look. If his girl knew, she’d be mortified.
He wonders if she’d be more upset that he let Ghost beat off on him or that he didn’t clean up his mess.
Johnny lets the bird guide him to the toilet, letting her shove him down onto the lid.
“Ah, hen, ye really wanna do this now?” he teases, spreading his legs and wrapping his hands around her waist to reel her in, slipping up her shirt at the same time.
He almost moans when she slaps him across the face, biting his lip when she gasps right after, surprised at her own actions. “Oh—fuck—I’m so sorry—”
He clicks his tongue, lips curling up into an impish grin. “Dinnae worry, baby. ‘M tougher than I look.”
It’s a small mercy that she’s too agitated to really look him over because if she were to direct her gaze even slightly south, she’d find Johnny’s shaft straining against his fly, hard enough to pound nails the second her hand touched his face. He swallows a groan and his fingers tighten, sinking deeper into her flesh.
“I didn’t mean to—Jesus, it doesn’t matter.” He loves that when she gets frustrated, her bottom lip juts out. It makes him want to sink his teeth into it. “When your…boss or whatever…wakes up, can you please take him and leave?”
“Leave?” Johnny repeats, blinking up at her innocently.
“Yes. Leave,” she says, stressing the word. He hums and strokes his thumb over the soft skin of her stomach, pleased that she hasn’t yet told him to take his hands off her. Sweet little bird. “We kissed and made up. That’s what you came for, right? So the two of you can get going once he wakes up.”
“No breakfast?”
She looks distinctly unimpressed. “There’s a coffee shop down the block.”
“Aye, I ken, baby,” Johnny croons, pulling her in closer, smiling when she squeaks and braces her hands on his shoulders, his face almost cradled between her breasts. He turns his head to kiss one, mouth lingering over the cotton of her shirt, tempted almost to bite and rip it. “It’s jus’ that…seems an awful like the second Simon and I take off, you’re jus’ gonna go right back to cold shouldering me. Sure you’re nae jus’ putting on a little show for me now?”
Her fingers grip him by the fabric of his shirt. “Johnny—” She yelps when he bites the inside of her breast, snarling when she tries to pull away. “Okay, okay, okay, I got it—”
“That’s right,” he says with a content sigh, pulling back just the slightest bit. “You’re nae going anywhere. Not until we’ve talked this out, nice and civil.”
When she stares down at him, wide-eyed, like she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing, it’s a rush like he’s never experienced. He feels right in the flow of things now, his head on straight for once.
“What’s there to talk about?” she mumbles, and he almost melts. “I’m not mad anymore.”
“Nae mad? Then why’re ye trying to kick us out?”
“Because I’m busy, Johnny,” she snaps. “The shop’s opening in an hour and I don’t have time to babysit the two of you.”
“Ye willnae even notice we’re here, hen, I promise. Fuck, I’ll even help ye out—make some deliveries, go shake anyone down that still owes ye—”
“I don’t shake down my customers, Johnny—”
“Whatever ye need, baby.” He drags his palms up her sides, pulling up her shirt with his hands. Her tits pop out like ripe fruit dangling in front of his mouth, puffy nipples begging to be sucked on. “Simon and I will be right here. Ye can use us however ye want.”
He stares at her nipple while saying that, unconsciously leaning forward until his lips graze her skin and his tongue pokes out. She doesn’t budge, just curses under her breath and lets him rub his tongue over her beaded nipple, shaking in his hold. Johnny bets if he pulled down those little sleep shorts of hers, he’d find a wet little cunt begging for a fat cock to fill her up.
It’d take nothing for him to pull them down and give her what she’s asking for. The love of his life is tucked away beneath a layer of flimsy cotton and begging for him to give her some love and affection. Johnny hasn’t kissed her in God knows how long—a week? Two? He’d probably find her swollen and aching beneath her shorts; could get her to come just by dragging two fingers up the seam of her.
He knows what Ghost would say though, so he drags his teeth over her nipple just for the pleasure of feeling her flinch and then pulls back. The bird blinks down at him with hazy eyes when he helps readjust her shirt, pulling it back down to cover her gorgeous tits, a damp spot on her shirt over the nipple he just had in his mouth.
“We’re not going to…?” she asks, letting the question dangle in midair. She says it without thinking—clearly, because the second it dawns on her that she just asked if they were going to fuck in the bathroom with Johnny sitting on the toilet, she looks horrified with herself. It’s beyond endearing.
“No’ with Simon in the other room, baby. Wouldnae be fair for him to have to listen in.”
He doesn’t tell her that fairness in this case doesn’t mean cruel. It means that it wouldn’t be possible.
Still, he needs to shoo her out of the bathroom to tug one out into the toilet bowl. Johnny would be half tempted to jerk off onto her mirror just to leave his mark where she could see, but he has some manners.
He gives himself a nice, leisurely tug with the help of his girl’s expensive hand lotion. It’s not as viscous as the lube in the gallon tub on his nightstand back at the barracks, but it’s a good substitute; makes his hand glide nicely over his shaft. If he closes his eyes, it even smells like her, like it’s his girl giving him a morning reach around, and part of Johnny wonders whether he was too quick to kick her out of the bathroom. Ghost wouldn’t begrudge him a quick and dirty jerk.
The thought dissolves the longer his hand flies over his dick though. Hard to think about anything outside the present moment when his hand is braced against the wall and his orgasm barrelling towards him. When he comes, it’s with a deep, shuddering grunt, not even bothering to muffle the sound. He hopes his girl hears him from the other room. He hopes it makes her squirm and ache.
When he comes out of the bathroom, another voice takes him by surprise.
“Johnny. You’re on breakfast.”
Ghost’s voice is gruff in the early morning hours, abrupt. Rarely could it be classified as gentle, but it’s like chert rattling in a leather bag after hours of disuse. Especially since it comes out of nowhere, the man asleep one moment and awake the next. Johnny’s worked with him long enough to not flinch at the sudden sound of his voice, but his girl hasn’t; she yelps when his voice comes unbidden from the couch, big body suddenly upright like he’s been awake the whole time.
He’s no cook, but Johnny can rustle up eggs and bacon like any other self-respecting serviceman. On deployment, they used to rotate cooking duty every night, no one skilled enough to take over the post permanently. Still, Johnny eyes Ghost worriedly when he takes a seat across from the bird at her little kitchen table. It’s not a table meant for two grown men, just a small wooden thing with four chairs, only enough for one on each side. It means that Ghost’s knees knock against hers when he takes the chair across from her, forcing her to curl up into herself, tucking her legs under the chair.
He stares her down. Menacing eyes. Not the kind of man you want sitting across from you, no matter the circumstances. It makes Johnny anxious to turn his back on them when he has to crack the eggs into the pan, checking over his shoulder religiously. The whites go crispy at the edges before he remembers to flip them over.
“You work downstairs in the flower shop,” Ghost says bluntly, breaking the silence. His first words to Bird all morning. Not a question.
“…Yes,” Bird answers gingerly. Her palms are clamped over her knees, sweating likely. “I own it.”
“Since when?” He doesn’t blink before firing off another question.
“Um…two years.”
“Where’d you work before?”
“In…in London. I was a shopgirl there though—”
“Where’s your family from then?”
It goes on that way for a time, an interrogation with no rhyme or reason. Even Johnny has to wonder at Ghost’s intentions—knows that there’s no shot that Ghost hasn’t already done a background check on her. Why interrogate the bird then? Why rattle off question after question in such quick succession? Why make her tremble and look down at the tabletop and stutter out her answers and fidget under his stare—
He notices Ghost’s hand slip beneath the table to grip his length, spreading his legs to help readjust.
Ah. Mean bastard. Of course he’d get off on making her squirm.
The bacon burns. Johnny can’t help it. He listens attentively to her clear voice—softer in the morning hours, still sleep-laden and flowery—whispering out her life’s story, dick getting hard behind the kitchen island. He bites his lip to hold back a moan when she trips over her words. Thrusts forward to rub his bulge against the underside of the island when she chews on her lip, relieving some of the pressure. It drives him mad that there’s a wet cunt going unsatisfied just a few feet away.
Ghost shoots him a sharp look as if he can hear his thoughts. “Johnny.”
He turns around to flip the burner off.
#there are like 2 more parts to come btw - it's not done yet. im just doing 2k chunks#ceil writing#cod mw2#cod x reader#ghoap x reader#ghost/soap/reader#soap x reader#soap x you#soap/reader
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little black dress
words: 1.5k
warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, dom!rafe, fingering, clit rubbing, sub space? (not officially said but its kinda implied), mentions of safe words, overstimulation, squirting, multiple orgasms, kinda forced orgasms, established relationship, mentions of readers body changing since high school
rafe knows he should care about the pouty look on your face, your complaints, but he's too distracted by your breasts spilling out of the top of your dress.
“i can't believe it doesn't fit anymore.” you whine, spinning in the mirror to realize that the dress is too short as well as tight, your bum peeking out from underneath them hem of the black fabric.
“i love it.” rafe says, moving to stand directly behind you, his hands on your waist, the material hugging your body like a second skin.
“rafe, there is no way i could wear this in public, my boob is gonna pop out if i move at all.” you sigh. you had good memories in this dress in high school, but you've grown a few inches, and filled out in places which causes it to look more like a tube top then a dress.
“don't wear it in public, wear it for me baby.” rafe says, eyes greedily raking over your exposed skin.
“you just like when i dress slutty.” you say, turning to face rafe.
“only for me.” rafe says, and you roll your eyes, placing your hands on your hips.
“rafe, what am i gonna wear to the party now? i planned everything around this dress.” you whine, sticking your bottom lip out. your black shoes and purse were brought to perfectly match, even selecting jewelry with black stones.
“fuck the party.” rafe says, burying his head in your shoulder, his hands moving to rub over your hips, waist and stomach.
usually you'd push back against rafe wanting to stay home. you like to party and see your friends, and you know he does too, he just gets too distracted when you get all dressed up, but you really are sad that the dress doesn't fit anymore so you concede and nod your head. “fuck the party.”
it doesn't take long for rafe to have your back on the bed, the dress still on but now pulled out to let your tits free and shoved up so it's just around your stomach, rafe pushing his fingers into your cunt.
“fuck me already.” you whine, feeling another orgasm working it's way to the surface.
“not until you cum again for me, pretty girl.” rafe says, his thumb moving to rub at your clit, massaging the sensitive bud.
“can't.” you complain. “want your cock.”
“you have to if you really want me, baby.” rafe warns.
you slot your eyes closed, concentrating on his thumb against your clit, the way your cunt expands for him as his fingers shove inside of you, thrusting at a rapid pace.
“oh, oh!” you squeal, feeling the sensation before it actually happens as you begin to squirt, rafe continuing to move his fingers through your wetness as sloshing sounds ring out.
“oh my god, stop!” you beg, noting the wet spot that has now formed from your pleasure.
“cum.” rafe commands. it's a simple but powerful one word as your body responds to his demands, back arching off the bed as you cum again, loud moans of your boyfriend's name escaping your lips.
“shit.” you whine out. “i made a huge mess.”
“it was hot as hell.” rafe smirks, wiping his thighs of the wetness. “want you to do that around my dick.”
“i don't know if i can.” you pout, your lower lip sticking out as rafe leans forward and kisses your forehead, ignoring the sheen of sweat on it.
“you'll just have to deal with me fucking you until you do then.” rafe stands up off the bed and undresses the rest of the way. you already tore his shirt off when he first started making out with you, but he's been hard and pushing against the zipper of his shorts, too focused on getting you off to give himself some relief.
“rafey.” you pout as he climbs back onto the bed, kneeling on the bed between your spread out thighs.
“you're fine.” he hums, raising a single eyebrow. “unless you're using your safe word.”
“n-no.” you shake your head. you haven't used it yet, and you're determined not to unless you really have to.
“alright.” rafe smiles. “my good girl.”
rafe strokes his cock while looking between your thighs, your pussy spread open and waiting for him.
he lays himself over top of you, pressing into your chest, feeling the way your boobs squish between your bodies.
“such a perfect body.” rafe pushes his hips forward, sliding his cock against your sloppy folds.
you let out a whine, causing rafe to quickly recapture your lips. “you're perfect. so beautiful, baby.”
“okay.” you whisper, knowing you need to agree with rafe otherwise he won't drop it.
“i love you, and im about to really show you.” rafe pushes his cock inside of you in one quick sweep.
you must have zoned out for a second, lost in pleasure. rafe taps your cheek, your eyes blinking rapidly.
“unghhh-”
“you okay, angel?”
“fuck me. fuck me. fuck me, please.” you spew rapidly, feeling the need growing in your stomach and moving down to your pussy.
rafe hesitates for a moment before continuing, keeping his eyes on your face as he slowly builds up pace.
“i said fuck me rafey, please baby. hard.” you wrap your arms around his shoulders, holding him tight.
“mmkay.” rafe hums, pressing a kiss to your lips before repositioning himself, straightening out and pulling your hips up, holding you at the perfect height to thrust into you.
at your request, rafe doesn't hold back, pulling you to meet him as he bounces you on his cock.
“god!” you scream out, already feeling oversensitive from the multiple orgasms, but you need to have rafe in this way.
“you're so wet.” rafe grunts.
you can't form words to talk as rafe uses you, eyes closing as you try to bring that feeling back, that building in your stomach.
“so tight.”
you reach down, grabbing his hands that are gripping into your hips, sure to leave purple bruises in the morning that will show around your bikini bottoms and tell everyone at the beach what activities you were getting up to.
“so warm.”
rafes praise has your mind floating, planting your feet in the bed as you lift your hips, causing rafe to hit a familiar spot inside of you.
“shit! keep going!” you moan. “i-im gonna squirt again!”
it's all rafe needs to hear to continue at that angle, wanting to feel what it's like to have you gushing around him.
he forces his movements as fast as he can, pressing as deep into your pussy as he possibly can until he feels the pressure building up, keeping his cock against your sweet spot while his thumb rubs over your clit.
his eyes widen, a smile spreading over his face as you squirt, soaking his abs and dripping down his torso and thighs.
“shit baby, i-” rafe groans, not even meaning to cum as his cock explodes, warmth spreading inside of you from the sudden wetness and way your cunt clamps down on his length.
“fuck.” rafes head tips back and your eyes open wide, a halo of light around his head illuminating him, defined muscles toned and shining from his exertion as his chest rises and falls in deep pants.
“i-” you whine. “i need a break. i can't cum again.”
“don't worry, princess.” rafe pulls out carefully, setting your hips down on the bed, knowing he'll have to take care of the wet spot as your entire body slackens. “you did so good for me.”
despite your blissed out, exhausted state, rafe still manages to make you blush.
“how about i just carry you to the guest room and we sleep in there?” rafe offers. “the mess can be dealt with in the morning.”
“mhm.” you nod, before letting out a yawn. “sounds good.”
rafe picks you up carefully, cradling you into his side. “need to make a stop at the bathroom first.” he carries you into your master bath and sets you on the plush chair that you do your makeup in, adding another thing to your list of what needs to be cleaned as he moves to the sink, wetting a washrag before carefully dragging it over every part of your body and assisting you in taking your dress the rest of the way off.
“i love you so much, baby.” he hums out, again picking you up to carry you to the guest bedroom, barely moving away to situate the both of you under the covers.
“that was… something else.” you giggle. “i don't know where i even was.”
“you're okay though?” rafe knows you would have used your safe word if you weren't, but he needs to hear confirmation after.
“yes. i loved it. thank you.” your head is rested against rafes chest, and you don't have the energy to pick your head up and kiss his lips, so you settle for a press of your lips against his pecs.
“thank you.” rafe says, squeezing you tight to him. “for letting me do that and for being the most perfect girl in the world.”
#rafe smut#rafe cameron smut#obx smut#outer banks smut#rafe fic#rafe fanfic#rafe fanfiction#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron fanfic#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe x you#rafe x y/n#rafe x oc#rafe x reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x oc#rafe cameron x reader#rafe imagine#rafe one shot#rafe blurb#rafe drabble#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron drabble#rafe cameron one shot
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freckle kisses ֶָ֢ | MV1
Max Verstappen x fem! reader
Author's note: Hello, lovelies!!! I hope everyone is doing good. This fic has been in my drafts for a while now and I finally had the motivation to edit it today. The Max brainrot is very real, I cannot stop thinking about his little freckle right above his lips. He is so beautiful🥹. Anyways, I hope you all like this piece. Happy reading<3
ALSO fun fact, I have a freckle that's right below my lower lip jshshdjdhs I don't know I think it's a sign!!! (im delusional)
―୨୧⋆ ˚masterlist
Max was used to the routine. Before the haze of sleep fully left him every morning, he would feel the soft, warm press of her lips against the tiny freckle above his upper lip. It was her unique ritual, a habit she had never skipped, and he had come to adore.
As the sun streamed through the blinds of their bedroom, she stirred beside him, her eyes fluttering open. Without missing a beat, she leaned over and planted a gentle kiss on his freckle. Max smiled, his heart swelling with love.
"Morning, love," he murmured, his voice still heavy with sleep.
"Morning, Maxie," she replied, her voice light and cheerful.
Every day followed this pattern. Whether Max was leaving for a race, taking a break between practice sessions, or they were about to make love, her lips always found that freckle. It was her little act of love, and Max never questioned it. He cherished it
One lazy Sunday afternoon, they were lounging in their living room, a movie playing in the background. She lay on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat. Max absentmindedly played with her hair, occasionally pressing soft kisses to her forehead. She sighed contentedly, snuggling closer.
Max felt her shift slightly, and there it was again. Her lips met his freckle in a gentle kiss before trailing a line of kisses up to his lips. "I love you," she mumbled softly against his skin.
"I love you too," Max replied, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.
He paused momentarily, a curious look crossing his face, "Why do you always kiss my freckle?"
She looked up at him with a shy smile, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink. "It's silly," she said.
Max tilted her chin up gently, his eyes searching hers. "It’s not stupid if it’s something you do," he said softly. "Tell me, please."
She took a deep breath before explaining, "Well, my mom used to tell me that freckles or moles are spots where lovers used to kiss you in past lives. She said they’re like beauty marks, little reminders of love."
Max's expression softened, a tender smile spreading across his face. "That's beautiful," he said, his voice filled with genuine emotion.
She laughed softly, the sound like music to his ears. "I told you it was silly."
"It's not silly," Max replied, taking her hand in his and bringing it to his lips. He kissed her knuckles gently, his eyes never leaving hers. "It's one of the sweetest things I've ever heard. And I love you for it."
Her heart swelled with love as she looked at him, feeling incredibly lucky to have someone like Max in her life. "I love you too," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight. They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other’s warmth, the movie long forgotten.
Max chuckled softly, breaking the comfortable silence. "So, every time you kiss that freckle, it’s like you’re saying hello to my past lovers?" he teased.
She laughed, playfully swatting his chest. "Or maybe it’s just my way of marking my territory," she quipped back.
Max laughed, the sound rich and joyful. "Well, consider it marked," he said, leaning down to capture her lips in a loving kiss.
#formula 1#f1#max verstappen#f1 x reader#formula 1 x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#formula 1 x female reader#formula 1 x you#formula 1 x y/n#f1 x female reader#f1 x y/n#f1 x you#formula 1 fluff#f1 fluff#max verstappen one shot#max verstappen x y/n#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen fluff#red bull racing#max verstappen fic#formula 1 imagine#f1 imagine#max verstappen f1#max verstappen x female reader#max verstappen x you
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heyy pretty, do you mind writing something for suguru and lace thigh highs🫣🫣🫣no pressure at all xx
totally not doing this because you called me pretty xx
suguru got a thrill from ripping your clothes; it just got a rise out of him whenever he heard the fabric ripping and having your smooth skin exposed for him to taste. his pockets would run dry from having to get you new clothes, but it was worth it every single time.
you knew how much he liked to rip the clothes off of you to fuck you senseless, so you used it to your advantage, slipping on your black lace thigh highs for him to tear off. that's all you wanted, but you weren't expecting to get fucked to the point where your legs were numb and you couldn't walk.
once his eyes scanned your boys, a proper thought couldn't be formulated in that little head of his before he went over to you and bent you over. he wasn't going to do anything yet, he wanted to savor this moment. he wanted to take a look at those thighs of yours filling out those tights, sadness almost raining down on him when he realizes that he has to rip those off of you.
running his thumb over his bottom lip as he stares at the view in front of him, taking his finger and trailing it down your back to your ass, placing both of his hands on your ass, a smile on your face that you had to hide. he took the bait every fucking time; you would almost call it pathetic if he didn't fuck you like you stole something and made you cum all on his dick.
"stay just like that." slowly pulling out his dick with a tip that was smeared with pre-cum and covered in a light pink hue, practically begging to be put inside of you. a sight for sore eyes indeed, but there was another sight he would rather see, and before wasting another breath, he runs his hands over your ass one last time before pressing two of his fingers into the fabric roughly and his fingers going through.
a sharp sound of the fabric ripping one second and being covered up by your moans in the other. his heart beating in his ears and more of his cum leaking out his tip, slipping inside of you, a sharp gasp as your eyes squeeze shut, pressing your teeth on your bottom lip, feeling him just slowly keep going deep inside of you.
his hands roughly gripping your flesh, swallowing hard as he feels himself fill out your walls, your walls clenching around his dick. now this is where the narrator would go on about how he fucked you so good you got dizzy and passed out, which did indeed happen. he filled you out well and even finished inside of you, not letting one bit drip out, but because he fucked you so well that it happened repeatedly, he just couldn't stop.
a package almost every day of some new thigh highs and a smile on suguru's face begging you to wear them, but you didn't want to; he would fuck you and not stop; he had no restraint when it came to the things he liked during sex; if he had you do something one time that had him losing his mind, he wanted you to do it again and again until he was physically sick of it; this month was thigh highs, sexy thigh highs that didn't have the chance to live out a second wear.
the sound of him ripping them, following you through work. when you cooked or did anything, you heard the ripping of the tights that you wore.
suguru was trigger-happy, his finger pressing the order button and his other finger pressing into the tights, making a hole, and his other pulling them apart. your wet, dripping core was staring right at him. this was a sweet treat for him, and he wasn't letting it
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk x reader#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jjk x you#x reader#jjk suguru#jjk geto#suguru geto#geto suguru#jujutsu geto#geto x reader#geto smut#getou suguru#getou suguru x reader#jujutsu kaisen suguru#suguru geto smut#sugurugeto#getosuguru
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18+ Bucky loves your back rolls. They’re the perfect place for his hands when he hugs you. You’re so soft. So so fucking soft. He loves to cling onto you, kneading his hands into your warm, silky skin, his fingers working into the little curves of your back. He loves that he can grab onto you with fistfuls of your body to hold, his face buried into your neck while he savours your body.
He loves how they look in dresses. Especially backless ones. He finds evey little curve so sensual and intimate. It’s the first place his hands go to for comfort. He sneaks them up your shirt with grabby hands, while you coo and coddle him like the needy baby he is for you and it’s the best thing ever.
It’s his favourite thing to feel when he has you on your back, arms wrapped around your body, his hips snapping into you, plowing you into mattress. There’s nothing soft or sweet about the way his thick cock stretches you open, hitting that spot that makes you scream. Then he wraps you up and his hands fine purchase on those sweet rolls along your back and it makes him whine and whimper, gripping them so he can be extra close.
You’re just so soft. How was he allowed to touch something so soft. He’s so greedy, fat drops of precum leaking from his tip when he moves to sit up and have you seated on his cock. He gets to run his hands up and down to feel your velvety skin, fucking feral when he catches a glimpse on the mirror reflection. Your pretty back moves in gentle waves with each thrust of his hips and it’s not enough. He wants you to feel his cock in your soul, feel every bit of him, fucking you so hard, your body has no choice but to take it.
He wants those pretty rolls to move.
His eyes roll back momentarily before focusing again, grabbing and squeezing your flesh, feeling it ripple and tremor with each slam of his cock.
There it is. Gorgeous ripples matching the way his name falls from your lips. Soft. Pretty. So sweet.
He doesn’t stop until his balls are empty, cum dripping down the seam of his balls and onto the bed.
Now he gets to hug you and he’s not longer gripping and tugging. He runs his hands up and down, inhaling your sweet scent while tucking his face into your neck again, keeping you right wherever you belong. Right on his lap, filled with his cock and cum, keeping him all safe and warm. He paws at them with grabby hands, never getting tired of how they feel.
God, he loves your back rolls.
#bucky barnes x you#bucky x reader#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes x freader#Bucky Barnes smut#bucky barnes x smut#marvel smut#marvel fluff#bucky barnes x fluff#bucky barnes fan fic#james bucky buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#bucky barnes comfort fic#comfot bucky#bucky barnes fanfic#soft bucky barnes#soft bucky#bucky barnes soft smut#Bucky fanfiction#needy bucky x you#needy bucky smut
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Yay! Requests are open!!! Can I get a smutty Eddie fic, where the reader is pregnant and they have sex, and it ends up inducing her labor. I feel like after the initial panic of "it's happening! it's happening!" Eddie would be so smug about it lol
I love this. I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻
No idea how the process of labor is so this might be very unrealistic
⚠️smut, daddy and momma nicknames
A bit of daddy's help
Y/N had been pregnant for a very long nine months. Her belly was huge and she could barely move around. At first she loved being pregnant, but now she wanted that baby out.
Eddie loved her pregnant glow, and he didn't want it to end. He loved helping her and being right beside her. He adored that she was growing their baby and he was happy it was with her.
He did feel bad for her. He knew how much it tore her body down, and how tired it made her. He did his best help. He rubbed her feet, he helped her walk, and he'd hold her stomach just to give her some relief. He'd do anything she asked.
~~~
"Still no baby," she grumbled as she wobbled out of the bathroom. "Spicy food? No go."
Eddie sat on the bed, with a sad smile.
"I'm sorry, baby." He said, she made her way on the bed. He held the blanket up as she slid in.
She sighed tiredly as the small movement sucked all the energy out of her. Eddie softly rubbed her stomach as he tried to soothe her.
"He'll come when he's ready" he said but her eyes snapped to him with a glare.
"He's on my time and I want him out now!" She growled.
Eddie tried to bite back his smile as he looked at her annoyed face.
"I know," he said, he leaned in and pecked her lips softly. He continued to rub her stomach, watching as her breathing calmed. "Was there anything else to try?" He asked. They have been through most of the list the doctor gave them but he wasn't sure what was left.
"There's one more thing," she said as she smiled. Her hand rested on top of his that was on her stomach.
"what's that?" Eddie asked
"Sex"
Eddie felt like his prayers were answered. A huge smile broke across his face.
"On it"
She laughed as he immediately stripped off his shirt. His tattooed chest came into sight as she felt herself already getting warm.
He leaned back down and held her face as he softly pressed his lips against hers. The kiss started sweet and gentle, but it didn't last long. Her hands were in his hair as he deepened the kiss. He kept one hand on her face as he slipped his tongue inside of her mouth. She moaned as she felt his tongue working against hers. He let his other hand wander down her body, slipping underneath her night tank top as he rubbed her belly.
The more he touched her, the more the kiss got hungry. Eddie having a huge pregnancy kink wasn't a shock to either of them. He waited years to fuck her without a condom, to fill her up with his cum. He craved to watch her belly grow and knowing it tied them together for life. He loved that anyone would see her on the street and know she was owned.
He pulled away for a few seconds before he kissed her again. Her left hand worked down his neck and down his back. He shivered as he felt her wedding ring tickle his skin, a reminder she was his for life.
He moaned as her tongue took charge of the kiss, and her right hand yanked on his hair as she pulled away.
"Ready to show me what you got, Daddy?" she purred
Eddie shivered at the name, his cock twitching in his boxers.
"Did you forget I'm the one responsible for the noise complaints? For filling you up so fucking good you got pregnant?" He challenged, a smirk on his face as he felt her body shudder.
He took his time to strip off her clothes. Removing her tank top and groaning at the sight of her swollen breasts and nipples. He reached forward, gently kissing the skin and flicking her nipples with his tongue. She moaned at the feeling, her hands in his hair. He moved down to her stomach, his big hands rubbing her bump as he kissed all around.
He didn't stay there long, removing his lips to strip the rest of her clothes, her hands losing the grip of his hair. He softly trailed up her legs, teasing her as he made it up to her thighs. He slowly trailed down her shorts. He enjoyed how she whimpered as she grew impatient. Then he tugged down her underwear, smiling at the sight of her puffy cunt.
"Gorgeous," he pissed as his lips softly kissed her clit. She jolted and her hands went back to his hair.
He didn't spend too much time between her legs. He knew both of them were so turned on that foreplay wasn't needed. But he still had to have a little taste. His mouth sucked on her clit as his fingers slipped inside of her.
Her head was thrown back as his skilled tongue and fingers worked together. She gripped at his hair and wanted to lift her hips but her body was too heavy. He made the most of it, his head twisting back and forth as he let his tongue touch everywhere.
She panted when he came back up for air. His chin soaked in her wetness, she clawed at his chest from the sight. He wiped his mouth and slammed his lips against hers, his fingers slipping out of her.
"Ready?" He breathed out, his body on top of her as he panted. His brown eyes look into hers for an honest answer.
"Yes," she said without a beat.
Eddie smiled and took off his boxers, lazily tossing them anywhere. He helped her turn on her side, then he went behind her. His lips were on her neck as he lifted her leg and placed it over his hip.
He listened to her sounds as he trailed his hand down and rubbed her swollen clit, she was so sensitive that she felt everything intensely. He rubbed her clit then slipped his pulsing cock inside of her.
He let out a loud moan as he continued to slip inside of her, her hands gripped the pillows as he sat fully inside of her. He was slow and soft at first, making sure she was comfortable. His left hand was under her head and his right played with her clit.
She loved feeling his hard chest against her back, the feeling of it slamming against her with each thrust. She could feel her eyes in the back of her head from feeling his hot breath against her neck. His growls and groans right into her ear.
"Love fucking you. Always feel so good wrapped around me," his words were hot in her ear as she shook. She whined at the compliments, her brain mush as she felt her body being taken care of in ways only her husband could.
"Just wanted Daddy's help to have a baby, huh?" He teased, he wished he had another hand available to rub her stomach. He was obsessed.
"Yes," she moaned, "yes, yes" her moans got louder as he went faster.
He could feel his heavy balls slamming against her. He didn't want to be too rough, clenching his jaw as he held himself back. This wasn't about him, it was to help her and help her have an orgasm.
"Need," she whimpered, her arm reaching back to touch him. She let her head wander until she felt his head. She gripped his hair as he growled louder.
"Need to cum?" He asked, his lips on her cheek
His fingers worked faster on her clit as she nodded. "Please,"
"Be daddy's good momma and cum all over me. Cum all over my fat cock,"
His words washed over like her orgasm. She felt that snap in her body as she gasped. The feeling went from head to toe as she came. Eddie fucked her through it, his fingers faster than ever against her clit as her leg shook on his hip.
When her moans turned to whines, he pulled his hand away. Softly thrusting inside of her, slowing down until his hips came to a full stop.
He slipped his soaked, still red and hard cock out of her.
"How was that?" Eddie panted as he moved her leg off of him and turned her on her back. His sweaty back against the mattress, he turned his head to look at her.
"Reminds me why I got pregnant in the first place," she laughed as she turned her head to look at him.
She squirmed as she took in his sweaty hair, his big smile with his perfect teeth, and the way his cheeks scrunched up. Her eyes moved down to his chest as it moved up and down quickly. Down his happy trail, following the line of hair, his dark curls and his thin hips peeked out from the sheet. The rest of his body was covered under the thin material.
"And that look reminds me why I got you pregnant," Eddie's chuckle turned into a moan as she turned her body and attached her lips to his neck.
"I don't feel anything, let's go again." She said against his skin
"Why don't we give it a second? We don't know how long it could take," Eddie explained through quiet groans as her hand began to travel down his chest. He could feel her cold wedding band against his hot skin, making him shiver.
He whined as she pulled her lips away, and her hand stopped right above his hard cock.
"I'm sorry. Are you saying you don't want to have sex again?" Her tone was accusing but she knew her husband. If sex was on the table, he was grabbing a chair.
"I just don't want to overdo it," he said softly
"Yeah I guess you're right," she sighed disappointed. She pulled herself away with a loud huff.
"We've been together for four years and married for one, and now you pick to listen to me?" Eddie asked in disbelief. "Come ride me, momma." He said with a smile as he tossed the sheet off of him.
She squealed with delight as she started to sit up, he helped her love gently and slowly. He eased her body on top of his, rubbing her thighs to soothe her as she got into the right position.
"I knew you wouldn't say no," she said with a smug smile, placing her hands on his hard chest.
"What's that saying?" he teased, his hot lips attaching to her neck. "Momma knows best?" she shuddered as he nipped at her skin.
He shuddered as she grabbed his cock, pumping it inside her hand before she lined his tip with her entrance.
His head fell against her chest as she sunk down on him, she took her hands off his chest. She leaned back and placed her palms on his thighs. The muscular and hairy skin underneath her hands.
He picked up his head as she softly began to move herself on top of him. He moved his left hand to hold her hip, softly encouraging her as she rolled her hips.
His right hand went straight for her bump. He softly rubbed her stomach as his eyes watched her body. Her eyes closed with bliss, the sweat on her hairline and the sweat that dripped down her chest.
Her body was a work of art and it always captivated him.
"So glad I married you," he smiled as he reached forward and cupped her face. Making her press her lips against him, her hands on his chest to balance. He felt her smile into the kiss.
He let her go back into her comfortable position, her hands back on his thighs. He clenched them as she gripped, her nails dug into the skin.
He reached forward and rubbed her clit.
The immediate touch was almost enough to make her cum. She panted hard as she lifted her hips as fast as she could to slam back down.
With a few more touches to her clit and Eddie bucking his hips up, had her cumming all over again.
But this time
She felt more than just cum soaking them, then he followed after. Moaning as he came inside of her.
"Is that?" Eddie asked, his eyes wide as he looked at the sheets.
"Stand me up!" She rushed out.
Eddie was quick to lift up her hips, his cum now adding to the mess below. He panicked as he slipped out from under her, he grabbed her hands and helped her off the bed.
As she stood, more liquid came out of her.
"It's happening!" She panicked, her eyes scared as she looked at her husband.
"Shh, it's okay! Let's get you dressed." He was quick to slip a shirt of his on her and some clean boxers.
He kissed her face, a big smile on his face.
"We're having a baby!" He said in awe
"NOT HERE! GET ME IN THE CAR!" she screamed.
He nodded and dressed himself as fast as he could. He grabbed all the bags and dropped them at the front door.
Then he grabbed her, helping her waddle to the car. He got her placed in the seat as a sharp pain went through her. She grabbed his hand and hissed through her teeth.
"Breath, baby, breathe," he said as he clenched his jaw. Her grip bruised his hand.
"I am BREATHING YOU BASTARD!"
"Where was that tone five minutes ago?" He teased, laughed at her glare, and kissed her nose. He ran back into the house and grabbed the bags.
Then he was off to the hospital
He reached over to let her hold his hand.
"I know you are terrified but I want you to know one thing," he said, his head turned to look at her.
She breathed as she looked over at him.
"I fucked you into labor," he said with a big smirk and wink sent her way.
"Oh shit, now that's all I'm gonna hear for the rest of my life." She said as she rolled her eyes.
~~~
"I can't believe you guys have a baby," Steve said softly as he looked at the small boy in Eddie's arms. Y/N slept in the bed beside them.
"I can't believe she allowed you to have sex with her," Robin laughed, her eyes on the little boy behind Steve
"Jealous?" Eddie snapped, a smirk on his face as she rolled her eyes.
"How did her water break? I want the whole story!" Nancy squealed excitedly.
The big smirk on Eddie's face got even more smug, which no one thought was possible.
"Well, we tried everything the doctor said, and the last thing on the list was all in my hands." The group looked at him confused as he continued to explain. "So, being the amazing husband I am. I turned her on her side and grabbed her left leg to put it on my hip. Then I slipped inside of her. Sweet and slow, she was so we-"
"WE GOT IT!" Dustin yelled as he covered his ears.
"You could have just said sex," Nancy said as she gagged.
"You wanted the whole story!" Eddie defended, "but the first time wasn't enough to induce the labor...or was enough for her." He gave a wink to Steve who rolled his eyes. "So we went at it again, like minutes later. She was all over me." Eddie bragged. "After her second orgasm, that was when she went into labor."
"Can't believe such a disgusting thing led to something beautiful," Dustin said, patiently waiting for his turn to hold the baby.
"Oh Dusty," Eddie laughed, "nothing about it was disgusting. Just you wait." Eddie said as he handed the baby off to Steve. Leaving his hands free to slam down on Dustin's shoulders.
"It'll be the best time of your life," he said as he walked over to her. He leaned down and kissed her forehead as she slept.
"You and him for the rest of my life."
Tags!
@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson fanfic#eddie stranger things#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson request#eddie munson fluff x reader#eddie munson angst#eddie munson angst x reader#ashwhowrites#eddie munson smut#eddie munson smut x female reader#dad eddie x mom reader#eddie munson x pregnant reader
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Hey I have this Charles x reader request in mind where they're in a backstreet relationship and someone is being rude to her while she's in Monaco? the rest of how the story goes is up to you:)
Protective Boyfriend Mode (Charles Leclerc x Female Reader)
Genre: Fluff
Word count : 2,8k
Dating Charles Leclerc in secret has its perks.
For starters, Y/N doesn’t have to dodge the metaphorical tomatoes hurled by the public just yet. The judgment, the microscopic scrutiny, and the sky-high expectations that come with being a WAG? She’s more than happy to keep those at bay for now.
Y/N doesn’t mind that the world has no clue she's dating Charles. What really counts is how he treats her when they’re away from prying eyes. Who needs the world to know when she gets the best version of him, away from the cameras and the chaos?
His family, of course, is in on the secret and backs her decision to stay incognito. Honestly, Y/N doesn’t need the publicity circus that would erupt if they went public. She enjoys her peaceful, average life, free from paparazzi ambushes and social media execution.
Sometimes, Y/N can’t help but indulge in a little harmless online stalking of Charles’ exes—Giada Gianni, Charlotte Siné, Alexandra Saint-Mleux. These women look like they’ve stepped straight out of a magazine cover, and she has zero shame in admitting it. Envy is one of the seven deadly sins for a reason, and let’s face it, she’s only human.
What really gets her is trying to figure out why on earth Charles latched onto her after dating these goddesses. It’s like he stepped out of a sleek Ferrari and decided to cruise around on a humble bicycle.
She swings between feeling like the luckiest girl alive and wondering if he might need a stronger prescription for his glasses. The whole situation leaves her scratching her head and laughing at the absurdity of it all.
────────────────────────────────────
Today, everything grated on her nerves. Her hair looks like it could fry chips. Her skin is dull enough to blend into the wallpaper. The toaster has chosen today of all days to go on strike. To top it off, her co-workers keep bombarding her with Teams calls without even checking if she’s available. If she could rate this day, it would get a solid 0 out of 10.
“Can this day get any worse?” she mutters to herself, glancing at her reflection. “Y/N, you’re one bad hair day away from looking like Bellatrix Lestrange.”
Her laptop buzzes with another Teams call. She groans and answers, forcing a smile. “Hi, Harvey. Can I help you?”
“Hey, Y/N! Quick question—”
“Harvey, quick question for you: Did you check if I’m available?”
“Uh, no?”
“Exactly, so please, next time, do me a solid and check if I'm available before hitting that call button, okay?”
Just then, her phone buzzes with a text from Charles.
“Hope your day’s going better than mine! My helmet decided to play hide and seek.”
She snickers and types back.
“At least your helmet’s hiding. The toaster just gave up on life.”
“I'm really sorry about your day, ma chérie. But I promise to make it better. I'll swing by your favorite bakery and bring back a ridiculous amount of cakes just for you.”
That earned a smile out of her. Trust Charles to know exactly what she needs.
As Y/N tries to shake off the day's frustrations, she decides to distract herself by scrolling through Instagram. Among the posts, one catches her eye—a recent upload from Jasmine Tookes, her celebrity crush since forever. Jasmine looks stunning, as always, flaunting a gorgeous Yves Saint Laurent bag in cherry red that's absolutely to die for.
Y/N can practically feel the allure of the bag through the screen, and an idea sparks in her mind. The YSL boutique is just a short walk away.
“Maybe a little retail therapy is just what I need to salvage this day,” she muses aloud.
Without giving it a second thought, she grabs her purse and heads out the door.
────────────────────────────────────
As Y/N steps into the YSL boutique, she's greeted by the scent of a distinct perfume mingled with a hint of leather. The store is relatively empty, save for a few tourists browsing the shelves. Undeterred, Y/N scans the display case, her eyes searching for that coveted cherry-red bag she spotted on Jasmine Tookes' Instagram.
From her peripheral vision, she notices a couple of sales assistants giving her a once-over, but no one approaches her. She shrugs it off, relishing the freedom to browse at her own pace. Finally, she spots the bag she's been dreaming of and makes her way over to it.
“Excuse me,” she calls out to one of the nearby sales assistants politely. “Could you tell me about the stock availability and the price of this bag?”
The sales assistant approaches, but when she begins speaking in French, Y/N's heart sinks. She's not fluent in French, and she quickly apologizes, asking if they could switch to English instead.
There's a momentary hesitation from the sales assistant, who seems to be holding back an eye-roll, before reluctantly switching to English. The demeanor, however, turns chilly, and Y/N can't shake the feeling of being judged.
“I'm sorry, but that particular item is not available,” the sales assistant replies curtly, her tone dripping with condescension. “Perhaps you should try checking other stores that may be more suited to your purchasing ability.”
Y/N's cheeks flush with frustration, her jaw clenching as she tries to maintain her composure. She can't believe she's being treated this way in a store she loves. Taking a deep breath, she forces a polite smile, trying not to cause a scene.
“Excuse me,” she says as politely as she can muster, her voice trembling slightly. “May I ask what made you say that to me?”
The sales assistant's gaze hardens, her tone dripping with disdain. “Maybe you should look into a mirror and see your own appearance today.”
Y/N's eyes widen in disbelief. So what if she's just dressed in a plain t-shirt and linen pants? Is minimalism suddenly not cool anymore?
Y/N retorts, her voice edged with disbelief. “Are you seriously judging me based on how I look? Last time I checked, being a customer wasn't contingent on wearing a designer outfit.”
As she speaks, Y/N notices some discreetly filming tourists nearby, their expressions mirroring her shock and disbelief. She feels a surge of vindication knowing she's not the only one appalled by the sales assistant's behavior.
Y/N's fists clench tighter at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as she struggles to contain her rising anger. The sales assistant's dismissive wave and condescending tone only serve to fuel the fire burning within her.
“Madame, this is a respected establishment,” the SA says, her voice dripping with thinly veiled contempt. “Please take your leave.”
Y/N's jaw tightens, her frustration reaching its peak. She opens her mouth to retort, to unleash the torrent of words building up inside her, but then she stops. What's the point? Arguing with someone who clearly lacks any sense of professionalism would only waste her energy.
With a deep breath to steady herself, Y/N turns on her heel and strides out of the store, her head held high despite the humiliation burning in her chest. She refuses to let this one encounter ruin her day, but she also knows she won't be returning to that boutique anytime soon.
────────────────────────────────────
By the time Charles arrived home, juggling two bulging shopping bags filled with an assortment of delectable cakes, he could practically taste the sour mood emanating from Y/N. Despite her attempts to shrug off whatever had bothered her, Charles refused to let it slide.
He set the bags down on the kitchen counter with a soft thud, his brow furrowed in concern as he approached Y/N. “Hey, bébé , what's wrong?” he asked gently, reaching out to touch her shoulder.
Y/N forced a tight smile, trying to brush off his concern. “Oh, it's nothing, Charles. Just a little hiccup. Not worth your energy, really.”
But Charles wasn't about to let it go that easily. He could sense her distress, and he wasn't one to stand idly by when someone he cared about was upset.
Before he could press further, Charles' phone rang, signaling an incoming text message. His eyebrows shot up in surprise as he glanced at the screen, seeing the name Lorenzo flashing across it. The text sounded urgent, almost concerned, and Charles felt a knot form in his stomach as he read the words: “You need to see this.”
Curiosity mingled with dread as Charles opened the message, his heart sinking as he watched the video attached to it. There, playing out on his phone screen, was footage taken by a tourist earlier at the YSL store. His jaw clenched in anger as he watched Y/N being treated with such disrespect, her humiliation on full display for the world to see.
He curses under his breath, his fists clenching at his sides as he paces back and forth in the living room. His mind racing with thoughts of how to address the situation.
Charles then gently takes Y/N's hands in his own, his expression softening with concern as he looks into her eyes. “Why didn't you tell me about this right away?”
Y/N's smile falters slightly, and he can see the sadness lurking behind her eyes, but she quickly masks it with a playful tone. “Ah, you know me, always trying to avoid unnecessary drama,” she says, attempting to brush off the seriousness of the situation. “Besides, sometimes people are just assholes, right?”
Her attempt at humor falls a bit flat, and Charles can't help but feel a pang of guilt for not being there to protect her. He squeezes her hands gently, his voice filled with determination. “You shouldn't have to deal with this alone, Y/N. I'm here for you.”
Y/N gives him a small, grateful smile, but he can tell she's still trying to downplay the situation. “Hey,” she says, her tone lightening, “at least people will think it's just a video of some random person being treated badly in a luxury brand store. They won't know it's Charles Leclerc's girlfriend, right? So, let's just let it go and move on.”
She tries to lighten the mood with a joke, but Charles can sense the underlying tension beneath her words. He knows she's just trying to protect him from the inevitable media storm that would follow if the video gained more traction.
But Charles can't shake the feeling of anger and frustration bubbling inside him. He wants to defend her honor, to make sure she never has to endure such treatment again.
Reluctantly, he nods, forcing a small smile of his own. “Okay chérie. Let's just focus on enjoying these cakes, shall we?”
────────────────────────────────────
The very next day, unbeknownst to Y/N, Charles decides to pay a visit to the YSL store. With a determined look in his eyes, he discreetly asks for the service of the sales assistant who humiliated Y/N.
Colette, the SA in question, practically beams with excitement and arrogance when she learns that Charles Leclerc has requested her personally. Straightening her posture, she approaches him with an air of self-importance.
“How may I be of service, Monsieur Leclerc?” Colette asks, her tone laced with enthusiasm.
Pathetic. Charles thought to himself.
He adopts a casual demeanor, pretending to browse the store as if looking for a gift for his girlfriend. “I'm looking for something special for my girlfriend,” he says casually, noting the way Colette's eyes light up at the mention of his romantic status.
Colette tries to contain her excitement, feigning nonchalance as she responds, “Oh, I wasn't aware you had a new girlfriend since your breakup with Alexandra Saint-Mleux. She is also a regular customer here.”
Charles decides to play along, a dangerous glint in his eye as he says, “Yes, my current girlfriend is a very private person. She prefers to stay out of the spotlight.”
Curiosity getting the better of her, Colette can't help but ask, “May I see a picture of her? Just in case she happens to come by, I'd love to be able to assist her.”
Charles smirks inwardly, knowing this is his moment to turn the tables. “Sure, why not?” he replies, pulling out his phone and scrolling through his gallery.
As he shows Colette a picture of himself and Y/N together, he watches with satisfaction as the color drains from her face, her eyes widening in shock and recognition.
Colette's apologies pour out in a torrent, her voice trembling as she stammers out excuses. “I-I had no idea, Monsieur Leclerc! If I had known, I would never have acted that way. Please, forgive me!”
Charles maintains a cool and collected demeanor, but his words are razor-sharp as he addresses Colette. “Your behavior reflects poorly on the brand,” he says icily, his tone dripping with disdain. “Perhaps they should consider terminating your employment for such unprofessional conduct.”
Charles's threat hangs in the air like a storm cloud, and Colette's eyes widen in alarm as she realizes the gravity of her mistake. She scrambles to salvage the situation. “Monsieur Leclerc, please, I assure you, this is not how we typically treat our customers. I'm deeply sorry for any inconvenience I've caused.”
But Charles remains unmoved, his defensive stance unwavering as he delivers his next line with a sharp edge. “I suggest you think twice before treating customers so disrespectfully in the future,” he says, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.
Colette can only nod, her eyes downcast in shame as she mumbles yet another apology.
Seeing the tension escalate, the store manager, who has been discreetly observing the commotion, rushes over to where they are. He offers his own profuse apologies, his tone filled with urgency. “Monsieur Leclerc, I am terribly sorry for the behavior of my staff. This is unacceptable, and I assure you, Colette will be disciplined for her actions.”
Charles raises an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. “Disciplined, you say? Well, I suppose that's a start. But perhaps I should take my business elsewhere, like Dior or Chanel.”
The store manager's eyes widen in alarm at the suggestion of losing such a high-profile customer. “No, Monsieur Leclerc, please, we value your patronage! I assure you, this will not happen again. Please, allow us to make it right.”
Charles offers a tight-lipped smile. “I appreciate your swift action, but I do hope this serves as a lesson for your staff moving forward.”
He then gestures towards the display. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to purchase the bag my girlfriend had her eye on.”
The store manager nods hurriedly, signaling to a nearby assistant to fetch the bag. As they scurry to fulfill Charles' request, the manager returns with a bouquet of peonies wrapped elegantly.
“Please accept these peonies as a gesture of our sincere apology,” the manager says, offering the flowers to Charles. “We hope this helps to make amends for the madame.”
Charles accepts the bouquet with a nod. “Thank you,” he says, his tone clipped. “I'm sure my girlfriend will appreciate the thoughtfulness. She's far more forgiving than I am, fortunately for you.”
────────────────────────────────────
Y/N is furiously typing away on her laptop when the front door swings open. She squints at the figure entering the room, only to catches sight of her boyfriend holding something suspiciously behind his back.
“Baby, what are you up to now?” she teases, a grin spreading across her face.
He feigns innocence. “Oh, just a little surprise for my favorite woman.”
Y/N's eyes sparkle with anticipation as she eagerly stands up, her curiosity piqued. “Oh, do tell!”
In a dramatic motion, Charles presents her with the unmistakable YSL bag. Y/N's jaw practically hits the floor as she exclaims, “Oh, no, you didn't!”
Charles chuckles, unable to contain his amusement. “Oh yes, I did, chérie. And just wait until you see what's inside!”
Excitedly, Y/N opens the bag, her eyes widening in awe as she pulls out the coveted item. She tries it on with exaggerated walk, striking poses as if she's on a runaway.
Charles watches her with a mixture of adoration and amusement, his heart swelling with love for this wonderful person.
But then, amidst her excitement, Y/N's expression turns serious as she asks about the sales assistant.
Charles adopts a mock serious tone, his eyebrows shooting up in faux concern. “Well you know, she's just taking a little timeout to contemplate the error of her ways.” he replies, his gaze flickering with a hint of satisfaction.
Y/N's eyes widen in surprise, but before she can inquire further, Charles pulls her into a warm embrace, his arms wrapping around her tightly.
“And also,” Charles adds, “they threw in some peonies.”
“Peonies? Are they trying to bribe me with flowers now?”
Charles chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, considering the ordeal you went through, I'd say they owe you a bouquet or two.”
Y/N playfully rolls her eyes. “I hope they at least remembered to include a card with a heartfelt apology from the SA.”
Charles raises an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “You mean the 'Sorry we were jerks, here are some flowers' card?”
They both dissolve into laughter, the absurdity of the situation not lost on them. It's moments like these that make even the most frustrating experiences worth it.
#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 x you#formula 1#f1#f1 blurb#f1 fandom#formula 1 x female reader#f1 one shot#formula one oneshot#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x reader#cl16#cl16 x y/n#cl16 one shot#cl16 imagine#cl16 x you#cl16 x reader#cl16 fic#cl16 fluff
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tw: suggestive and also pretend everything ended after gojo was unsealed and that everyone's alive !!
you shouldn't be feeling this way. the entire world was in disarray, still recovering from the aftershock of chaos and destruction stomping hand in hand through the streets.
but your husband had changed drastically. since escaping the prison realm, he'd gotten thicker, bulkier, his frame now matching his larger than life ego.
the way his t-shirt deliciously hugged and stretched against his biceps. the baggy, white martial arts pants (which are almost see-through in the sunlight) left so much to the imagination, and god, you couldn't stop imagining what was underneath.
the pretty little bow tying it all together was just calling you, begging you to untie it and sink to your knees, revering him the way he deserved to be. you wanted your husband so badly that you couldn't focus on any of the tasks at hand. major damage control and cleanup were needed, but your mind was only on your husband. it was pathetic, and you felt ashamed, but you needed him, entire world be damned.
it was like a switch flicked in your brain. the 20 days he was locked up, you spent it all in a constant state of panic and worry, fighting to stay alive and to keep your students alive too. and the moment you saw satoru, you were taken aback, rooted to the spot.
there he was, your satoru in all his infinite glory. as he ran and gathered you up in his arms, you couldn't help but slightly whimper at the feeling of his taut muscles pressing against your softer form. he felt so good against your body and finally in your arms.
satoru, well versed in your body language, immediately understood what was going through your head. the same could be said for him, too. he spent hours upon hours alone in the prison realm, his body devoid of your touch, aching for you. not a second went by where he didn't think about your lips pressed against his heated skin and indulging in your soft, silky, warmth.
he could feel the blood rushing south as he heard you whimper. satoru wanted to kiss you so bad, but he knew if he did, he'd end up taking you right here, right now in front of everyone.
he pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth, another stamped lovingly onto your hairline. satoru held your face in his palms, forehead pressed against yours. his blue eyes shining with unshed tears, mirroring yours. god, he missed his wife so much. his sweet, sweet girl.
satoru's gaze softened, drinking you in properly now. he sees the bags under your eyes and tear tracks engrained into your cheeks. his soul breaks, as he realises how devastated and hearbroken you must have been.
"i love you so much," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your soft lips. "and i'm not going anywhere, my love. i promise."
you couldn't stop yourself leaning up and capturing satoru's lips in a frenzied kiss, you both groaning at the contact. satoru angled your face closer to his, his nose pressing deliciously into yours. he deepened the kiss, gasping at the way you tugged at his slightly overgrown undercut. you took that as an opportunity to slide your tongue past his lips and lick into his mouth.
he tongue fought against yours, wanting to taste every inch of your mouth. the kiss was becoming way too heated. your body pulled flush against his, his hardening length pressing into your stomach, moans escaping both of your lips. satoru drank all your noises up greedily, savouring them on his tongue.
the sudden loud cough to your right made you both pause, realising where you were. collecting yourselves, you slowly pulled apart, a string of saliva splitting as you moved away from your husband, his hands falling to your waist.
you were both panting and out of breath, but that now that you'd gotten a taste, it wasn't enough. you needed to feel his bare skin on yours. you needed to be completely consumed by him. you needed more.
before turning to face his students' satoru smirked at you. you never thought you'd say this, but you revelled in that stupid smirk of his.
'patience' his darkened, lust-filled eyes conveyed, his hands squeezing your waist, 'we have all night'.
i am taking requests and writing fics for gaza. check the linked post out to find out more !!
© ffsg0jo 2024 — do not plagiarise, repost, modify, or translate any of my work, in any way shape or form; i will piss in your cereal if you do. all work belongs to me and me only.
#lowkey this doesn't make sense#but i went into heat seeing manga panels of gojo again#wrote this in 20 minutes#crazy what horn can do sometimes#🌻.sunspell#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk fanfic#jjk writing#jjk gojo#satoru gojo#gojo satoru#satoru gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#gojo smut#gojo fluff#jjk smut#jjk fluff#🌻.suggestive#🌻.after-hours
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