#can my muse just come back to me properly now
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pretty boy
pairing: spencer reid x reader
summary: spencer walks in one day with a new look. you handle it pretty well.
a/n: im in the opposite of a writing slump right now (will prob fall into a writing slump right after i say this) probably because im procrastinating on essays for school and i can only write when im meant to be doing work. but tiny little fluffy spencer one shots are very good for the soul right now. i think it's my way of healing from my hotch fic
wc: 1.8k
warning(s): one slightly sexual joke from emily. all fluff
You usually don’t get to the office this early, but you don’t exactly have a choice. The BAU’s last couple cases have all run one after another, barely leaving you any time in the office, and now you’re paying for it.
You’ve got a mountain of paperwork to get through and not nearly enough time to do it all—if you’re lucky, you’ll be writing reports for a few days straight. If you’re not, you’ll be putting in some overtime.
“This is the most focused I’ve ever seen you this early,” Derek comments.
You shake your head with a sigh. “These reports are government mandated torture.”
He chuckles, and he nods at Emily as she walks over to her desk. “Are you this busy?”
She shakes her head. “I’ve still got a report to get through, but nothing that bad.”
“I get it,” you say wryly. “You’re all more organized than me. Just don’t come to me asking to go out tonight—you know I can’t say no.”
“But don’t shots taste better when you’re supposed to be doing work?” Derek asks, and you roll your eyes with a laugh.
“Not when I’ve got this much work I’m supposed to be doing.”
You hear the elevator ding and glance up—Spencer’s walking through and fixing his tie. You look back down at your report as you greet him.
“Hey, Spence,” you call. “Why’re you late?”
“I’m not late,” he says, and you can see him checking his watch out of your peripherals. “I’m two minutes and thirty-three seconds early.”
“Really?” you muse. “I guess I’m just so used to you being here before me.”
“You can’t judge my timeliness on yours when you’ve been here for an hour already,” Spencer says.
You frown, tapping your pen against the paper. “How do you know?”
“You’re settled in already. Your coat’s on your chair, your stack of unfinished files is smaller than it was last time we were in the office, your coffee isn’t steaming, and your mug has a chipped handle—when they were put away last night, that one was set in the front, so you’d have to be here early to get it.”
“Touche,” you murmur. You’re not sure why you ever ask your team of profilers how they know something.
“You also look like you don’t want to be here,” he comments. “That’s pretty typical of agents who have to be here before their regular hours.”
You chuckle and tilt your head in admission. You don’t really want to be here, especially running on so few hours of sleep.
“Why aren’t you as early as usual?” Emily asks.
“My neighbor knocked on my door this morning to ask me for something,” Spencer says. “It threw off my whole routine. I picked the wrong tie, I couldn’t pack my bag properly, and I had to toast my bagel for two minutes instead of three and a half to make it out in time.”
“How terrible,” Derek says with mock austerity.
“It is terrible!” he exclaims. “It’s scientifically proven that a morning routine makes you happier, more energized, and ready to seize the day—carpe diem.” Spencer sets his bag on the floor next to his desk and looks at everyone else with a smile. “Did you know that phrase was actually coined by the Roman poet Horace in his Odes? It comes from the first book out of four in the eleventh poem—the full phrase in Latin is carpe diem, quam mini—”
“How was your bagel?” Emily asks to interrupt him, and he pauses.
“It was good,” he says. “Could’ve been toastier.”
You look up, a teasing remark on the edge of your tongue, but the words die in your throat when you actually see him.
Spencer’s started combing a hand through his hair to fix it—must have been another part of his affected morning routine—his lips set in a pout as he tries to see his reflection in his dark monitor. He always looks good, even without trying, but now—
“You’re wearing glasses,” you say dumbly.
“My contacts dried out,” he grumbles, still focused on his hair. “We got home so late last night I forgot to put them in their solution, and I had no time to fix them because my neighbor messed up my whole morning.”
You nod, still unable to tear your eyes away from him. “Are you gonna keep wearing them?”
“I don’t know. Contacts are better for cases because I’m not worried about them falling off or fogging up, but I usually sleep on the jet on the way back, and sleeping with contacts in isn’t good.” He smiles a bit as he fully turns to you, seemingly satisfied with his hair. “It reduces the amount of oxygen that gets to your cornea, which damages the cornea’s surface and makes it harder to regenerate new cells. Sleeping with contacts actually makes you six to eight times more likely to get an eye infection.”
You nod again, your brain still not quite working at full power. You always love listening to Spencer’s fact dumps—it gives you a lot of material to impress your non-BAU friends with on the side, and you’re eternally thankful for that—but right now, you seriously cannot focus.
You’d never really thought about him in glasses, but that’s probably a good thing if this is how it makes you feel.
You were valedictorian as an undergrad, and you received stellar feedback from your professors during your masters program. You’re an excellent profiler, a valued member of the BAU, and you’re a goddamn FBI agent.
And yet you can’t find a single thought in your head because your coworker showed up to work wearing glasses.
He’s still rambling about other common causes of eye infection and how nobody seems to take them as seriously as they should, when Derek, not even trying to hide his grin at your turmoil, speaks up.
“Reid. Wanna cool it a bit?”
Spencer’s eyes dart over to him for a moment before he stops. “Uh— sorry.” He frowns as he looks back at you. “Why do you ask? Do you not like them?”
“No,” you blurt out, and you shake your head a multitude of times. “No. They look great. You look great. They’re—” You dig your nails hard into your palm as you try your hardest to smile like normal, and this time you nod. “They’re good, Spence.”
“Thanks.” Spencer does that little smile-nod combo of his, and he pushes his glasses back into place with his thumb by the bottom of the frames. “That’s nice to know I’ve got another option.”
You thank whatever god may be out there that Hotch and Penelope are busy in their offices and JJ is busy with some other case, because you think you would die if anyone else saw you like this.
“Hey, Reid,” Emily says, also not doing a very good job of hiding her amusement. You hate your team sometimes. “They’re almost out of sugar in the breakroom. If you want coffee the way you like it this morning, you should probably get in there.”
“What?” Spencer shoots up, his brows already furrowing into a frown. “That— that’s ridiculous. I can’t mess up my morning any more.”
“You’d better get in there, then,” she remarks.
“We’re an entire office of agents running on coffee,” Spencer complains as he starts walking. “How are we almost out of sugar?”
“Because half of ‘em drink it black,” Derek says, and Spencer shakes his head with a sigh as he leaves.
“That’s ridiculous.”
You bury your head in your hands the moment he’s gone and Derek laughs. “I wish I could’ve gotten that on video.”
“Don’t talk to me,” you groan. “It is not fair of him to walk in like that.”
“And that is why I call him pretty boy.”
“He needs them to see,” Emily says with amusement as she leans against the side of your desk. “You just can’t control yourself.”
“I need to transfer offices,” you say, shaking your head. “I can’t do this.”
“You should ask him out!” Derek encourages. “He’d probably say yes.”
“Absolutely not,” you insist. “I doubt he likes me like that. A— and even if he does, that’s the last thing either of us need right now.”
“I don’t know,” Emily muses. “It looks like you clearly need something.”
You let out a frustrated noise as you screw your eyes shut. “I’m doomed.”
You hear Spencer say your name, and when you look over at him, one hand still pressed against your head, you see he’s got two cups of coffee in his hands. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” you say weakly. “I’m great. Why?”
“I got you one too,” he says, holding one of the mugs out to you. “The one you have is probably cold by now, and it looks like you need an extra kick to get through all those reports.”
“Thanks, Spence. That’s sweet.” He nods as you take the proffered mug, and you swear your cheeks are as warm as the coffee. He is really testing your strength today.
“You— you have a lot,” he says, and you huff a dry laugh and nod. “I’m not trying to be sarcastic. I could take half of them if you want?”
Your grip tightens on the mug and you can feel Derek’s eyes on you. “I couldn’t make you do that, Spence.”
“You’re not!” Spencer exclaims. “I can get through mine really quickly—we worked together for almost the whole last case so I can do all of that anyways.”
“...You’re sure it wouldn’t be an imposition?”
“I’m sure,” he nods. “Besides, I offered. I wouldn’t if I didn’t want to.”
And god damn him, because he nudges his glasses back into place again, pushes a strand of loose hair back into place. You’re dying over here.
You set the mug of coffee on your desk and pick up the top half of your pile. “All yours, Spence.”
He takes the bottom half and smiles at you, and you smile back before he walks back to his desk. You are dying over here.
“Let me know how I can pay you back,” you say, and he shakes his head.
“You don’t need to pay me back.”
“Really?”
Spencer nods. “I mean, Morgan invited us all out on the jet last night, and I don’t think I can do it alone. If you can get out of the office in time, I don’t have to. I think that's enough of a payback.”
“Yeah,” you say. “I’ll be there.”
He smiles again and nods, then he picks up a pen and focuses in. You turn back to your desk, your face burning.
“What was that about him not liking you like that?” Derek says.
“Quiet!” you whisper-yell, swatting him with the pile of files in your hand. “He might hear you!”
“He’s not hearing anything while he’s focused on that,” he says. “That just means you can ogle him more.”
You groan again, letting your forehead fall into your palm. “I’m pathetic.”
“I think you’re right.” Emily chuckles as she stands up. “You are doomed.”
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fluff#x reader#sadie writes
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Hi,
can I request a blurb where reader always forgets or looses hair ties and Lando noticed this so he started to always wear one on his wrist for her?
"It's so hot", you grumbled as you walked around the city, Cisca and her boyfriend joining you and Lando on your day out since they came over to spend the week with you in Monaco.
"Do you want me to get your cardigan, lovie?", Lando asked, "no, thanks though, I'll just tie it to my bag", you smiled, doing so before latching your hand back in his, his thumb rubbing your soft skin, "you're good?", he asked and you nodded after looking at your wrists.
"Is the restaurant still far?", Cisca asked, "no, just around that corner", you mused.
It was not the time of the year where you had sunlight until later on, so Lando suggested you take a drive around the city, you and Cisca sitting in the back while Lando drove and his sister's boyfriend sat next to him, "are you two safe back there?", Lando checked again.
"Yes, we are", you said, trying to keep your hair behind your ears so your hair wouldn't be a mess later.
"You've been dying to tie your hair for at least five hours now but you didn't bring a hair tie like usual", Lando said as he stretched his wrist out for you once he got to the red traffic light.
"I'm not going to use one of your bracelets to tie my hair - it will probably snap and the beads will get tangled in my hair", you reasoned as you noticed Cisca patting her pocket and check her wrists, "I don't have any on me", she apoligised.
"I have a hair tie for you in there, you muppet", Lando smiled, feeling your fingers gingerly touching his wrist as you found the thin black elastic band.
"Thank you, baby", you smiled, using your fingers to pull your hair back properly and get it out of the way, checking with Cisca as she flashed you a thumbs up.
"Looks good", she smiled before patting her brother's shoulder, "who knew the boy used to come into my room and ruffle my dolls' hair and do crazy hairstyles on them would be carrying a hair tie for his girlfriend when he was older? Good job, you! You turned out okay after all!", she teased Lando in a sisterly manner, the four of you laughing as you and Lando blushed.
(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)
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Breathe
hyunjin x photographer!reader. friends to lovers with so so much tension and pining. hyunjin is too pretty (yet again). suggestive in the end and reader is wearing a dress. inspired by Bathtub hyunjin.
thank you hyunjin yet again for being my eternal muse and inspiring this brainrot. wrote this while listening to All mine by plaza so.. please enjoy <333 feedback is highly appreciated 🫶🏻
Is it possible to drown in the depths of your emotions, until breathing becomes a forgotten process, one that eludes each one of your senses?
Yes, you believe, if standing before a vision of ethereal beauty, as you are now, all encapsulated within Hwang Hyunjin’s being.
The camera slightly shakes in your grasp as you linger by the threshold of the bathroom, eyeing Hyunjin’s silhouette submerged in the waters. He’s sitting inside the bathtub, fingers running through his raven locks, awaiting your return.
He doesn’t seem to notice your presence, nor do you wish him to. Instead, you remain silent by the door, allowing yourself a few seconds to savor the intoxicating aura he exudes.
See, he isn’t doing anything particular, nor is he adorned in anything enticing— a simple white shirt and matching linen pants. And yet, his presence fills the air, compelling oxygen particles to flee from your being, leaving you transfixed, unable to do anything but gaze at him.
“I can feel you staring,” he remarks casually, his eyes still drawn before him as he leans back, tapping the edge of the tub with his ring-clad fingers.
Your heart pulses against your ribs, a dance that the organ knows intimately by now, one that Hyunjin alone can orchestrate. It isn’t the first time he’s had this effect on you, it is a familiar territory you first breached when Minho introduced you to him.
Hyunjin is a friend, but his hands find your waist more times than deemed platonic, and you like his touch much more than you’d like to admit.
“I'm assessing my subject, you know?” A faint grin dances upon your lips as you approach the bathtub. Hyunjin is doing you a favor— you just booked your first photography gig, and your client only has one condition: to shoot it in a bathtub. You wanted to translate your vision to life beforehand, and Hyunjin volunteered to help you.
“And how do I look?” he inquires, his smile a sugary dream that coaxes forth his left dimple. You place your camera gently on the countertop, bending down to inspect him up close.
His eyelids glisten with the golden glitter you delicately applied earlier. His skin is dewy, glistening underneath the warm lightning, and his lips drip crimson, courtesy of the cherry chapstick you carefully tapped into place.
There is always a myriad of visions that come to your mind when you think of Hyunjin— a blazing fire where each flame surges higher towards the heavens, a burning dance of passion and confidence; or a delicate red rose standing resilient in an empty field, vulnerable yet unwavering in its strength.
And now, you see a siren, beckoning mortals with a voice of beauty, ensnaring them with its hypnotic allure, much like he captivates you in this moment.
“You look nice,” you settle on saying, and he playfully pouts, his thumb grazing against your wrist lightly, akin to the delicate flutter of a butterfly's wing. “That's it? You never compliment me properly.”
“Someone’s gotta keep your ego in check,” you shrug, grabbing a dozen of roses and scattering them all around his body. You nod, satisfied with the outcome, finally retrieving your camera.
“Let's start with a simple shot, look at the camera, as you would when seducing someone.”
Instead of looking at the lens, Hyunjin's gaze finds yours first. With a deliberate slowness, his eyes trace the contours of your form, sending delicious shivers down your spine. His pupils dilate, his gaze darkens, before he reluctantly tears his eyes away, finally shifting his focus to the camera.
it takes you a few beats longer to find your voice once again.
“Hold still, one… two… three,” you murmur, capturing a few shots, pausing for a few seconds to admire the warmth of the light bouncing off his honeyed skin. “Perfect.”
“Me or the picture?” he teases, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and you roll yours in response.
“The photographer.”
“You’re right, you're perfect,” he replies simply, and you're momentarily taken aback, your eyes widening slightly. He notices, a small smile playing on his lips as you grab his hand to adjust his pose.
“You aren't allowed to speak anymore,” you declare, guiding his index finger to his lips while his head rests on his other curled fist. He grins, before his expression morphs into a smoldering gaze, one that blankets your skin in hues of red from its sheer intensity.
“Look at me this time,” you instruct, and he nods obediently, directing his gaze towards you. Though your eyes remain fixed on the lens, you can sense the intensity of his gaze piercing through you—suddenly, the white dress you're wearing feels too sheer to contain the flames ignited by his stare.
“Mm,” you hum in approval as you look at the result. A sweet realization washes over you as you notice the subtle shift in his gaze— does he know his eyes unconsciously soften when they land on you?
With each click of the camera, your nerves dissipate, replaced by a growing confidence as each shot turns out exquisitely. They look worthy of gracing billboards worldwide, a privilege of working with a model as beautiful as him, one who portrays emotions as if they were crafted solely for him to feel.
“Good, let's try an overhead shot now,” you instruct, slinging the camera strap around your neck before climbing into the bathtub, legs on either side of his body. You’re hovering over him as he gazes up at you, his fluttering eyelashes echoing the erratic beat of your heart.
Your eyes briefly trace the contours of his now-translucent white shirt, a veil that delicately clings to his form, accentuating the sculpted lines of his physique—the arc of his v-line melding seamlessly into the fabric of his trousers. He possesses the body of a masterful dancer, a muse Michelangelo himself would have revered.
“Take off your shirt,” you suddenly request, and though your words are met with a quirked eyebrow, he obliges effortlessly. With a fluid motion, he peels the garment from his frame, sending it sailing across the bathroom's expanse.
“Good?” he questions but you remain silent because words have suddenly become beyond your grasp. Your client's request for a portrait suddenly feels inadequate and you almost itch to cancel it, because you know it won't exude the same beauty as Hyunjin’s. For each fiber of his being flusters you, makes you hyper aware of your every pulse point and how they all come together to chant Hyunjin’s name.
“Look up at me as you lean back,” you finally say, positioning the camera directly above his head. With each click, your heartbeat speeds up even more at the sight— collarbones and arms bathed in the play of light and shadow, his long, wet hair cascading over broad shoulders, and worse of all, a faint smirk that graces his placid face, as if he's aware of how breathtaking he looks in this moment.
“Should I do this?” he asks, picking up a rose and brushing its dewy petals against his lips. You swallow hard, nodding meekly before swiftly capturing a few more frames.
Emotions twist you into a peculiar being, yearning for your very soul to liquefy, transforming into the water droplets adorning the rose's petals, longing to caress Hyunjin’s lips too.
Hyunjin suddenly straightens his posture, hands coming to rest gently on your calves, fingers dancing along the hems of your dress with a delicate touch.
“How’d I do? Do I look good for you?” he asks and your knees weaken beneath you, his words rendering you a merciless leaf, swayed by the fiery winds he commands, with his words, with his touch, with his eyes, all solely on you.
“For me?” you echo, and he nods, his hand moving languidly up and down your leg, pausing delicately at your knee.
“Mm. You're the only one I want to impress.”
Your response escapes your being breathlessly. “And why is that?”
“Didn't you ask me not to speak?” he grins, running a hand through his hair. Swiftly, you place your camera on the counter before kneeling down, your thighs now brushing against his own.
“Speak,” you command, and in an instant, he seizes your waist, drawing your body close until you're straddling him, legs enveloping his middle.
“Say it again,” he whispers, and you thread your fingers through the strands of his hair, gently tugging at the edges until his head tilts back, exposing the expanse of his neck.
“I said…” you trail off, leaning in until your nose grazes the warmth of his skin.
Being this close to Hyunjin isn't unfamiliar to you; your interactions have always teetered on the brink of almost-kisses, your bodies drawn together like magnets, two halves of an orange yearning to reunite.
Yet, this moment feels different, much more fateful, as if the universe has granted you one final opportunity—to finally ignite in passion or perish into ash.
“Tell me. I want to know,” you urge, your voice a whisper against his skin, laden with unspoken desires.
“Because... I like you a lot. So much that you're the only one I think of all day. And I want you to like me too. I feel like I need it to breathe.”
His response catches you off guard with its vulnerability, the intimacy it drapes on this moment. The water envelops your intertwined bodies as your hands find solace atop his chest, his rapid heartbeat seeping into your palm.
“I always forget how to breathe around you,” you confess, a sheepish smile gracing your lips. The grin that blooms on his face is radiant, casting a glow on the room that cannot be replicated by artificial lighting.
“If you forget how to breathe, I'll give you all my oxygen,” he promises, his thumb tracing gently across your cheekbones. You see the sun in his smile, feel its warmth in his words that burn you. “I think it always belonged to you anyway,” he murmurs, his lips hovering tantalizingly close to yours. “I think... I wanna give you back what's yours. Would you let me, pretty?” he asks, his voice a tender plea.
And amidst all the planets you know and the countless universes that may exist, you cannot fathom a single one where your answer would be anything but yes.
“Please,” you whisper, and his lips crash against yours in a fervent dance.
Your lips part before swiftly meeting again, and you close your eyes, surrendering to a world where all your senses converge to breathe Hyunjin in—your hands exploring the contours of his chest, your mouth savoring the sweetness of his lips infused with your cherry chapstick, your nose inhaling his scent, a delicate blend of vanilla and tobacco pulling you into a dizzying dance, your ears catching the gentle rhythm of his breaths and the faint thud of his heartbeat, all resonating within you.
And you don't need your eyes to see Hyunjin; he's indelibly etched behind your eyelids from all the time you've spent admiring him before.
“Fuck,” he whispers as he draws back, ��I should have kissed you much sooner.”
“Mm?” you grin, intertwining your hands behind his neck, “Was it that good?”
“You have no idea what you do to me, do you?”
“Then show me,” you grin, a playful glint in your eyes.
His gaze sparkles with mischief, his lips curling into a self-assured smirk, his hands finding your waist once more. Breathing is not necessary if it gives you Hyunjin in the end.
“Oh, I will.”
#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#hyunjin x reader#stray kids fluff#skz fluff#hyunjin fluff#stray kids imagine#stray kids imagines#skz imagines#skz reactions#skz scenarios#stray kids scenarios#hyunjin imagines#hyunjin fanfic#(also just realized last time i posted was exactly one month ago for hyunjin’s birthday KADJJD this was fated.)
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His Angel and His Brat
Part 1!!! Part 2
Hard!Dom!Geto x Brat!Gojo x obedient!afab!reader
(I also try to write my fics to be racially ambiguous! No mention of skin tone or hair type!)
Summary: Gojo is a mega-brat to y/n and Suguru and likes to push buttons cuz he can so Suguru decides to overstimulate Gojo until he thinks he’s broken. (Key word: thinks.) To add to Gojo’s humiliation, he ensures that the reader is getting princess treatment while watching Gojo suffer endlessly. But, of course, things don’t always go as planned with Satoru Gojo.
CW and whatnots: Overstimulation, vibrators, cuffs, finger sucking, condescending!geto, usage of the word “cock”, gojo’s boundless stamina and cocky attitude, anal play, cum licking (off the floor and gojos pp) praise, cocksucking, angel ass reader that ends up in trouble cuz gojo can’t shut his mouth, geto is actually so mean to gojo but so soft cuz he’s actually a teddy bear dw. Use of “brat, princess, angel.” There will be aftercare in future parts cuz imagine leaving pathetic satoru a cum drenched mess. Poor baby. :(((
There will be additional tags in future parts. This is how I cope with ch 236.
Suguru runs his thumb along your bottom lip, licking his own lips while you whimper. Your pretty eyes fixated on his blushing face and half-lidded eyes. He looks at you with so much lust and is so gentle with you, just so in love with how much you please him and how willing you are to do what he wants. You eagerly await him and his orders, always ready to obey.
But.
“Suguru!”
Satoru’s cry makes his face go from pure admiration to utterly sadistic. “Satoru.” He says, looking at the man to the right of you, the same man that’s panting and whining as the vibrator in his tight hole runs relentlessly. “Jealously doesn’t look very good on you.” He grins and hits a button on the small remote he holds in his hand that isn’t occupied with your mouth.
“Fuck—FUCK!” Satoru’s eyes clench shut, the whirring sound coming from his bottom getting faster and bit more high pitched. You’re grateful you aren’t in his position, you don’t know if you could handle Suguru having full control of how much pleasure you get to feel. Especially if that pleasure is ongoing… and nonstop.
Satoru looked unusually pathetic and… weak. It’s insane to think that the so called strongest sorcerer, the cocky, the arrogant, the man on top, bends to the will of his pretty best friend. Suguru’s change in character comes as a shock too. The sweet, soft-spoken, gentle, and empathetic sorcerer is now grinning down at his partner, showing no mercy, no kindness, and is only sending Satoru into deeper throes of overwhelming pleasure. You almost didn’t want to look at Satoru, what if Suguru surmised you wanted the same treatment. Would he show you mercy?
“Now, now,” Suguru muses, “if you can beg me properly, I’ll stop your torment. And of course you’ll need to apologize to Y/n and I for being such an impatient little shit.” He chuckles softly and withdraws his thumb from your mouth. “She’s being so well-behaved while you whine and whine and cry and cry about how much it is.” He mocks him, furrowing his eyebrows together in a false pity. “I suppose I should expect it, after all, you’ve cum how many times? That pressure against—“ Suguru crouches as he speaks “—your prostate—“ he runs the tip of his fingers up Satoru’s base “—it’s been nonstop for 30 minutes now.”
You can’t help but watch as Suguru’s hand starts to stroke Satoru now, giving expert attention to his neglected yet tortured cock. Suguru notices how you eyeball his actions and can’t help but smile wider.
“Ah, do you feel left out?” His false pity changes back to his gentle expression. “It’s alright, princess, why don’t you show Satoru how impressed you are with his stamina. Give him a little reward?”
Suguru is evil.
“I don’t think he could take it, Sugu.” You answer honestly.
He looks a bit disappointed but he relents his ministrations. “I suppose you’re right. But he still owes us an apology before his punishment ends.”
You nod and meet Satoru’s eyes. He can barely speak as his next orgasm approaches. “I-I’m so—“ his body is shaking. “I’m so sorry! I’ve been so—Suguru—so impatient! Please, I’m so so soo!!! So sorry!” He’s almost in tears now, you can tell Suguru is even beginning to feel pity for his best friend and his brat.
“Ahh… cum one more time and I’ll take it out. Show me you deserve mercy by pleading. Plead for mercy.” Suguru’s fingers tug at your nipples now, clearly losing interest in Satoru’s torment. You know that you aren’t being punished, but seeing Suguru like this… makes you a little weary.
“Please please!” Satoru repeats the word over and over. “I’m so sorry! Please, mercy!” He keeps prattling on, thrusting into the air as he struggles to keep together.
“Y/n.” Suguru looks to you. “Clean up his next mess for me. Lick his cock clean and then it’ll be your turn.”
Satoru starts to mumble and moan out different variations of thank yous and Suguru’s name as he reaches his final high. And when he cums, It’s a mess. Semen spills from his cock and your immediately there to catch it. Suguru’s eyes widen, absolutely loving your eagerness to take his cum down your throat.
“Good boy, good girl.” He pets your head and clicks the toy off, causing Satoru’s to collapse completely, his body weight bearing into the now standing legs of Suguru. He catches his breath, still whimpering as Suguru pets his head. Satoru looks you in the eyes, his beauty keeping your gaze fixated on his body. His six eyes are a little red, probably from the tears that he held back, and his body is flushed beautifully, his pretty cock slowly going soft as he does his best to calm down.
Satoru relaxes back on his knees while Suguru goes behind him to remove the toy from his ass and undo Satoru’s hand cuffs. You breathe a sigh of relief for him, always impressed by Satoru’s unwavering stamina and attitude. You wondered how Satoru enjoyed pissing Geto off so much, does he really enjoy these punishments that much? Suguru seemingly loves the after effects of a good punishment, his adoration of Satoru is evident in the way he kisses his head and gently rubs his back while Satoru regains his strength.
As much as you love watching, you are wondering why Suguru invited you to observe Satoru’s punishment. You’re not really complaining and it definitely isn’t the first time you’ve seen it, but, all you’ve had is a thumb in your mouth and a little bit of cocksucking. After all, Suguru can’t ever stay entirely focused on Satoru, he needs some pleasure himself.
Satoru seems to be wondering the same thing. “So, baby, why did you bring her in to watch?” He asks, rising from his knees to give them a break.
Suguru looks down at you. “Just on a whim.” He strokes your face before looking back toward his brat. “And I’ve noticed you get more worked up with an arousing audience.”
“Well, wouldn’t you if she was licking your cum from the floor?” Satoru grumbled, sitting on the bed.
Suguru turns his attention back toward you. “She does love cum in her mouth.” He strokes himself slowly, catching your attention.
“I want yours next.” You tell him, shifting your weight and sending him a smile.
Satoru watches as you lean forward to lick Suguru’s cock, taking his precum on your tongue. He doubt he could handle anymore cumming, but he certainly loves to see you take cock down your throat. If he had more energy, he’d love to stuff his down as well. “Like it that much, y/n?” He chuckles.
Suguru’s eyes shoot to Satoru. “Jealous again, Satoru?? Well, the question is are you jealous cuz my cock is down her throat or are you jealous cuz it’s not down your throat?”
Satoru sucks his teeth. “I want to watch her take me balls deep.”
Uh oh.
Suguru removes his cock from your mouth. “Satoru,” you start, “I don’t think you have enough energy to keep that attitude up.” Indeed, his stamina is incredible.
Suguru waits to see his reaction.
And of course, the other man grins and only adds fuel to the fire. “Think she’d look better with my cock in her mouth. She’s been paying more attention to me than you anyways.”
“Satoru…” you sigh and in seconds Suguru has him pressed back into the bed and is beckoning for you to get on with him.
Satoru laughs. “Aw, did I bruise your ego, baby? What are you gonna do about it?”
Suguru points to his mouth. “Sit on him to shut him up and I’ll give him a nice view of my cock in your mouth.”
Fuck, that sounds hot. Satoru just grins and motions for you to ride his face, pointing at his eager tongue that’s already out and waiting.
“Y/n, make sure he stays quiet I don’t want to hear him make a single peep. And since he likes being punished so much, I’ll punish you instead if he speaks.”
What?
You blink. Undeniably aroused but a bit scared of his now very evident sadism. “You know he’s going to try to speak now on purpose?” Mercy isn’t exactly his thing right now but you’ll pry at it for sure.
Suguru gives you an evil grin as you lower your weeping pussy onto Satoru’s face. “Then keep his mouth shut.”
#gojo x reader#gojo satoru#jjk x reader#satoru gojo x reader#gojo smut#jjk#jjk smut#satoru gojo#cockygojocockygojocockygojocockygojo#jjk gojo#jjk suguru#jjk geto#satosugu smut#geto x reader#geto smut#suguru smut#satosugu x reader#satosugu
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uhm shyly comes into your inbox to give a steve idea :’)
finding him so so so pretty in that stupid dark blue polo, not being able to really look at him properly. it’s tight against his chest and stomach which makes him look delicious, wanting to be devoured really. he’s simply so pretty. worst thing is: he fucking knows it. so he’s cocky about it and teasing, it’s never relenting. he loves it and honestly so do you.
(feel free to ignore!)
trying to get my steve groove back on!!! thank u for sending something nonnie!! a lil bit of shy!reader <3 just a blurb too
Steve doesn’t know it’s a favourite of yours.
One of his polos fits his chest pretty perfectly if anyone asks your opinion. It’s that nice navy colour that looks good against his tan skin, with a bold stripe of white through the middle. A little plain but classic.
It hugs his biceps snugly and stretches ever so slightly over his chest. At the right angle, you can see the definition of his pecs and it’s awfully good at reminding you of what they look like with no shirt on at all.
The thought makes you fluster a bit.
He’s got plenty of polos but this one— this is your favourite. And he’s wearing it tonight, on Valentine’s day, and now you’re not quite sure you’ve been as slick with your wandering eyes as you hoped.
Across the booth, Steve smiles at you, his lashes kissing in the corner. He reaches up to scratch at the back of his neck and your eyes zero in on the bulge of his bicep instantly.
Steve’s smiles melts into a grin, a tad wicked.
Yeah, okay, maybe he does know it’s your favourite.
You fluster again. Something nudges at your foot under the table, right as Steve says, “What?”
He’s teasing. He definitely knows what.
“Stop,” you murmur, on the side of embarrassed. “You know what.”
Steve smiles again and drops his arm, thankfully, only to fold them and lean forward on the table. It does wonders for his arms, especially in that shirt. Damn that shirt. Damn him. He’s evil.
“Do I know what?” He pretends to muse thoughtfully.
He tilts his pretty head to the side just an inch. His eyes stay locked on you, drinking up every second your flustered reaction. You’re beautiful, even more so when you get all embarrassed about liking him.
“Steve.”
“What?”
“I will not be responsible for any further inflation of your ego, thank you very much.” You mumble it as you take a sip of your soda, eyes on the table. Why is it so terrible to have him know you were leering at him?
Steve laughs loudly. He finally slides his arms back and off the table, giving you a temporary relief.
“You’re the only one who can inflate my ego, actually.” Steve counters, his brows raising. He steals a fry off your plate and chews it slowly.
You eye him over your cup, skeptical.
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” He shrugs, swallowing his food. He takes a sip of his own milkshake, oh-so casual when he says, “Your opinion is the only one that really matters to me anyways.”
He grins across the table at you, a more mischievous shine in his eyes.
“Why do you think I picked this shirt?”
You’re equal parts mortified and enthralled at what he’s said. In your surprise, you accidentally inhale a bit of your soda and it burns as it goes down the wrong way— you cough awkwardly to clear it. Okay, less equal, more mortified now.
It’s your turn to ask. “What?”
Steve nudges your foot under the table again, teasing and flirting all in one. His pink lips curve into that grin that makes your heart flip flop— and there’s even a slight pink tinge to his cheeks. As though he’s also endeared but embarrassed by your attention.
“It’s your favourite.”
“It’s—” You splutter and for some reason, decide to lie. “No, it’s not!”
“Yes, it is!”
“No, it’s—” You pivot mid-sentence. “Who told you?”
Steve laughs again, that big loud belly-laugh where his cheeks get all chipmunk-y cos he’s grinning so hard. When he stops laughing enough to talk, he’s reaching across the table. You’re not quick enough to pretend to avoid his hand as he snags it with his own.
“Baby,” he says. “Nobody had to tell me. I could just tell.”
Somehow when he says it like that, when he calls you baby in a voice all sticky with fondness, it doesn’t seem like such a bad thing at all.
You nudge him back under the table and sip your sofa again to try think of something to say. He knows what you look like when you love something. How terrifying. How intimate.
Another sip of soda. Steve rubs his thumb over the back of your hand, content to gaze you. His view is sweet enough he must have cartoon hearts circling above his head.
You can’t think of anything to say in the end, so you just squeeze his hand and nudge his foot again — and trust that he’ll just be able to tell what you mean.
#this was fun! thank u so much for sending one#it was a challenge to make something go with it#i’m feeling very into new relationship getting used to each other jitters <3#ruby writes steve#steve x reader#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x reader blurb#steve harrington x you#steve x you#a baby baby blurb :) enjoy !
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could you write something for eddie bagging an absolute goddess of a gf and how he is completely and utterly in love <33
lovesick!eddie is the love of my life and personally i'd kiss him but that's just me !! this is just a little scenario for this concept, feel free to request more parts!
--
"Here." Eddie holds out his hand, ring-clad and calloused, "Can I try?"
"You want to try putting on lip gloss?" You raise an eyebrow at Eddie, the cool metal tube pinched between your fingers. You imagine a sheen over his lips, and you itch to smear some of the gloss over then to see how he'd look.
"I wanna try putting lip gloss on you." He corrects, eyes shining with excitement, "Can I?"
"Okay," You giggle, unsure of why he's so insistent on it, but giddy at how his fingers feel when they brush against yours, snatching the tube away from you.
The wand makes a wet pop when it comes out of the tube, excess product glopped onto the tip of the applicator. He frowns disapprovingly at the messy waste of product, wiping it off on the lip of the bottle before looking at you.
He kneels in front of you where you're sitting on your bed, looking down at your lips in intense concentration. He raises the wand to your lips, the fuzzy applicator stick with gloss. It's tinted a soft pink, and he dabs it so carefully across the plump skin of your lips that you barely feel it. He drags it across the outline of your lips, filling in the extra space when he's deemed your lips properly lined. His tongue worms its way out from between his teeth, sticking up against his top lip as he coats yours in product.
His fingers curl around your chin, his eyes laser-focused on your lips. You find it increasingly hard not to kiss the tip of his thumb that's hovering oh-so perfectly over your bottom lip, but you'd smudge his hard work and feel bad about it.
When he deems you properly glossed, he breaks away, a confident grin sliding over his face in a split second, "Perfect."
He stares at you proudly, admiring his hard work as you stare at him adoringly.
"Thank you, Eddie." You croon sweetly, taking his hand in your own, "Don't know what I'd do without my lip gloss applicator."
"You'd be shit out of luck." He concludes drearily, but puffs with pride, "Lucky for you, though, I'll be here as long as you need."
You grin at him, the corners of your eyes crinkling with the expression. Now it's his turn to fight the urge to kiss you, but he bares his own cheek as you stuff your lip gloss into your purse.
"Well you said thank you," Eddie muses, puppy eyes gazing imploringly at you, "But I really think you owe me a bit more than that."
"Oh? What more do you need?"
"Stamp me." He declares, waiting expectantly with his cheek turned, "I worked hard on that artwork, I want something to show for it."
You lean forward eagerly, nearly bowling him over with an overzealous kiss to his cheek. He laughs incredulously at your near-tackle, grabbing your arms to steady you as you wobble on the edge of your bed.
"Thank you," He gushes, a sticky kiss print proudly popping against the skin of his cheek, "My services have been sufficiently paid for."
"Mm, not entirely." You hum, a hand cupping the back of his neck as you press a similar mark to his own lips. He's careful with the kiss, not wanting to smudge his hard work, and when you pull away, product shines over his skin. A bit smears down his chin, a miscalculation on your part, but he smiles proudly instead of wiping it away.
"There." You conclude, "Now it's perfect."
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson scenario#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson one-shot#eddie munson one shot#eddie munson headcanon#eddie munson headcanons#eddie munson hc#eddie munson hcs#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson drabble#eddie munson dialogue#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson x reader fanfiction#lovesick!eddie
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The Honeymoon // sasuke uchiha
a/n: this was a great request! i hope i did it justice :)
pairing: sasuke uchiha x female!reader
summary: sasuke makes love to his wife for the first time on their wedding night.
cw: fingering (female receiving), biting/marking, a little blood, nipple play, unportected penetrative sex (m + f), breeding
wc: 3.2k
You can hear your heart pounding in your ears. Your face was growing warm, especially under his amorous yet still cool stare. You stand in front of him, bare except for the white silk slip made to serve as your wedding night lingerie. You bite the inside of your lip, waiting with bated breath for any verbal indication of his enjoyment. The two of you had been…somewhat intimate in the years leading up to your ceremony, but this was different. This meant something, it meant your marriage was real and undeniable. He had felt the outline of your body beneath his hand before, seen the valley between your soft mounds and caressed over them. He has placed sweet kisses on your lips and on the blank canvas that was your neck, but this time would be the first real time, where he gets to claim his wife as his.
His body was warm too, his complexion just kept it a secret. His shirt was already off, the act of undressing each other after the party was hasty and clumsy, but now he stood across from you without knowing where to begin. The dress clung to the sweet dips of your body, your nipples poking through the delicate fabric due to the slight chill in the air and your own excitement. Your hair was still hanging around your face so perfectly he didn’t know if there were words in existence to describe your beauty. The makeup you wore was minimal, in his opinion, lovely. You were naturally stunning, a fact that was never more obvious to him than right now.
The moon was high in the sky, dancing across your skin and making your eyes glow brighter than his own sharingan. The tension was growing thick, the slight tingle he felt spreading across his body the only reason he hadn’t spoken yet; he was nervous what may tumble from his lips. His wife, her body so beautiful and waiting for him. He didn’t know what to do with himself and he certainly knew he didn’t deserve this, but he’s able to hold off his self-loathing for now; for the vision of you, breasts spilling over the neckline of that skimpy dress, sharp teeth nibbling on a perfectly pouty lip, is enough to make the world stop turning.
You fold your arms behind your back, holding your hands. It only made your dress slide up and your tits more noticeable. You tilt your head to the side and blink at him, shifting your weight to your other hip. “Is..do you not like it?”
He’s almost startled by the sound of your voice, but his brows pinch together so you know he’s heard you. He shakes his head, the one side of his mouth drawing up in amusement. “That’s not it at all, my dear. I’m sure you’ve noticed that you’ve left me speechless.”
Your cheeks darken, and you coyly tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “Oh, I…I’m glad to have that effect on you.” You smooth your hands down the silky fabric that stops just below the large swells of your ass.
He steps forward, placing his hand on the dip of your waist. “And so many more effects, my love.” He muses, moving that same right hand to cup your jaw, the rough callus of his thumbpad swiping over your soft bottom lip.
Watching it sink in around his digit combined with your doe eyed stare sends a pulse to his cock, and he knows touches like this won’t last him any longer. His eyes gloss over with a new desire, and he comes closer until his hips press against yours. You bite at your lip again at the feeling of his semi pressing into your pelvis. Your arms snake around his neck, and his possessive hold on your face draws your eyes upwards to look at him. His lips hint at a smile.
“I think it’s time to properly make you an Uchiha.” He rasps, his deep voice even thicker as you back up, falling back onto the mattress. He watches you the entire time, obsidian gaze trained on your every move. You can see his chest begin to heave before he’s even really touched you. The way you scoot back on the bed, propping yourself up on the pillows and spreading your legs for him was enough to do him in, any modicum of self-control he’d managed to hold onto long gone.
It’s overkill when you smile. Your affection is so clear, the hazy lust clouding your eyes is just too much to bear. Your lips part so sweetly when you challenge him. “Then take me, Sasuke.”
This time he does smile, though most would consider this a smirk. He hated the stiff dress pants he was in anyways, and so did his now throbbing cock. It was easy to shove them off, hissing when his length slaps up against his dark happy trail. You bite down on your lip once more at the sight of him, feeling a pulse in your cunt immediately. It was almost embarrassing, how wet you could feel yourself getting, blushing as it slicks the insides of your thighs. You sit up to remove your slip, surprised by the lewd way he spits into his hand before stroking himself. His dick was as pretty as the rest of him; he was long and curved at the end, the tip closer to a blueish purple than pink. He sighs in relief at the pressure, putting his knees down on the bed and walking towards your now completely naked form. He lets go of his pretty shaft in favor of feeling your chest, seeing all of you for the first time. He turns his sharingan on, smirking at you as he does so.
“I want to remember this one, sweetheart.” He coos, calloused but nimble fingers rolling your perky buds in between his index and thumb. He grins as your hips move, your body so responsive to even his smallest of touches. “I…want to make sure I do this right.”
His voice is soft, but still husky with his need for you. Even his face is softer, less stoic and anxious. He leans over you, letting his frame dwarf yours, chest on chest and lips on lips. He closes his eyes to enjoy the feeling, your mouth was healing, it felt like the first sip of water after an exhausting fight. It felt like recovery, like a fresh start. Your fingers tugging on the ends of his soft hair felt even better, he loved knowing you wanted more of him, needed him closer. He’s happy to give that to you, his tongue sliding against yours. He relishes the little gasp you give out as he shows you how dominant he can really be, pinning your tongue easily before sucking on it. He only did what came natural to him, and he wanted to taste every part of you. He was unafraid to show this desperation, that’s why he married you, you could read him like a book and let everything flow from there. He feels your body melt into the sheets, your mind surrendering to his will with no questions asked. He groans at how obedient you are, even without a word being said. He bites at your bottom lip, grunting when he tastes a bit of blood.
He really is supposedly a changed man, and for the most part, his dark urges have left him be. But watching his pretty little wife writhe beneath him and succumb with just his kiss…it makes him wonder what else he can do to you, what you would enjoy and all the things you get to try now. Tasting your blood on his tongue followed by the sultry moan that slips out as he bites you only drives him further.
“Oh? Is that something you enjoy, lover?” He almost teases, though you catch his genuine interest. His face is inches from yours. His eyes flickering to the pulse jumping in your neck. You nod, and his smile becomes wicked. “What do you like?”
You know he’s stroking his ego now, wanting to make you ask even if he desires nothing more than marking the canvas that is your neck. It makes you smile, even if you’re a little breathless from his teasing. “I like…biting. I trust you..”
He nods, needing no more encouragement to sink his teeth into your dainty flesh, eyes fluttering shut again when you hiss and arch off the bed. The taste of your skin was nothing new, but it felt like uncharted territory now that you bear his last name. He would never hurt you, and he knew how to read your signals. But for now, he sucks deep bruises down the side of your neck, his languid tongue soothing over any sore spots. Your moans egg him on, his hand groping at your chest again.
You like the way it feels, the burning sensation mixed with the sweet satisfaction only soaked the sheets beneath you, your hips moving against nothing, poor puckering hole left with nothing to clench around. He chuckles at the sight of you, impossibly needy and moments away from begging for more. He was wise enough not to bite too deeply, but part of him was growing unruly. He knew he needed to restrain himself to keep from hurting you, and as if you could sense his unease, you whine for him.
“Sasuke…don’t have to be easy, we’ve done all this before..”
“I know, I just want to make you feel good–”
“Feels good when you bite hard, wan’ you to feel good too–even if I bleed.” You mumble, grabbing his wrist and dragging it towards your bucking hips. He gets the hint, though his gaze is still trained on you as he lays beside you. He’s warped by your words, knowing he can push a little further than he’d been before. He knows you trust him to stop when necessary, and he can’t help but think you want to feel him let loose too. He grins, giving your neck a few gentle pecks as he slides his body just a little lower. He knew your neck was good and marked already, and far too dangerous to draw blood from. So he distracts you a little, sliding his fingers along your middle and sighing at the soaking mess he finds there. He draws up some of your slick so his digits glide in circles around your cute clit, the shaky gasp you make only makes his grin spread. You whine with every move he makes, eyes closed with pleasure. His fingers work you perfectly, your stomach sinking in the best way possible. Your mouth hangs open, and you’re useless already. You can only move your hips in rhythm to his strokes, chasing your own high. His cock pounds at the sight of you, and he sees the stickiness of his own pre-arousal glistening on your hip from where he’s pressed against your side. He moves the curled tresses of your hair, clearing a path to his ideal target, your neglected chest. He leans in, suckling on the nipple while his fingers snuck into your tight hole. He groans against your skin and your moaning pitches up.
Even his sinewy fingers stretch you open, and the feeling burns for a second before it turns into pleasure. He loves the sensation of your silky walls clenching down on his digits, his palm still nudging your button with every pump. He’s grateful he sat up this way, his body angled to worship your chest and cunt simultaneously. He shudders at the thought of what he was trying to do, working you up to your peak. His tongue moves over to a random patch of skin above your saliva-coated bud, teeth scraping at it periodically. You can feel a light sheen of sweat cover your body, hips bucking into his hand wildly.
“S-Sa-Sasuke—I’m close…wanna cum for my husband..” You purr, your brain a white-hot wasteland of pleasure. At your words, he can’t help but sink his teeth into your skin, groaning at the sounds you make. His fingers fuck into you faster, his teeth burrowing deeper until that tang of iron seeps into his mouth. You don’t cry out in pain, in fact, your legs shake around his hand and clasp around him, hips stilling. You whine and whimper and squirm, the sudden flood he feels around his index and middle confirms that his bite sent you over the edge. He grins, his tongue lapping at the shallow wound he left, fingers slow to a stop as your mewling does. He leans up, his lips gently pressing into your cheek.
“Did you like that?” He asks, the subtle anxiety of losing your shared virginity creeps back into his mind, maybe he took it too far despite your insisting. You grin though, parting your legs again and letting your head flop over to meet eyes with him.
“It was perfect, honey…can’t imagine what this is gonna feel like.” You whisper, jutting your chin in a way that tells him to get on top of you. He hums, kissing your temple again as he gets to his knees in the opening you gave him, lifting your leg to dangle by his hips. It gives him the perfect view of you, your gorgeous cunt glistening with the orgasm he brought you. It makes a sense of pride and need throbs through his body, his cock aches. He grunts again at the sight of his cockhead sliding around in your slick and prodding at your clit, sending jolts through your body. You watch him, mouth still agape, just admiring how the tufts of his black hair point in all directions because of your fingers carding through and tugging at it, his eyes are hungry and half-lidded as they stare down at you, lips swollen and red from intense kisses and sucking at your skin. He looks like a god, pale skin and lean, strong frame, a big hand keeping your leg against him as teases your entrance.
You moan and jump, every squeal of yours prickling the back of his neck and making the tips of his ears turn red. He couldn’t take it anymore. He had to have you. You were just too perfect, the marks he’s left on your skin driving him insane. You love his crazy possessiveness, and he had the desire to possess you in every way. How much better could that be than by letting you walk around with the evidence of his carnal craving? Could he be so lucky to give you a honeymoon baby? You had big plans to rebuild his clan, he knows, you’re insatiable need for a baby almost worse than his to put one in you. He groans as you wiggle closer, trying desperately to get him to slip inside. He can’t help but chuckle at that.
“You’re adorable, Mrs. Uchiha. Be patient.” He hums, moving his hips so he could slide right in, the mess you’ve made is more than enough to lubricate you both. He stops at the hilt, watching your face scrunch at the adjustment. His sharingan takes in the scene, memorizing your face changing from pain at the tight fit to unimaginable pleasure once he starts to move. His head falls back with a groan, the impossibly tight and warm squeeze made his balls twitch immediately. “So good for me, god you feel incredible.”
Your mouth drops open to speak, but you know you can’t, only gripping at the ripples of his biceps and tugging him closer. It feels like you’re being split in half, the length of him allowing him access to your spongy spot just by sinking all the way in. He obliges you, leaning forward so you can hold him, grinning at the neediness drawing up your eyebrows and leaving you speechless. His slow rolls turn into sloppier ruts, the shakiness of your breath and the way you claw at his back the indicators he needs to know he’s fucking you good. You wrap your legs around his hips, eyes rolling back in your head. You begin to shake like you did earlier, and that tells him you’re close.
He hums, sitting up from your hold and spitting on your pussy, letting his thumb spread the saliva over your clit again. He smiles when you jerk, the sight of your pleasure more than enough to send him spiraling. You can feel his cock jump inside you, causing you to clench down on him.
“Nngh~” He groans, hand holding your hip still. “My good girl’s gonna make me cum.” He husks, the desire in his tone giving you goosebumps. “And she’s gonna keep it inside, right? So she can give me a kid?” He asks, to which you can only nod vigorously. He hums, shaking his head in gratitude of your obedience, feeling your cunt gripping and letting go in sporadic spasms, he can’t hold himself back anymore, groaning as his hot load floods your womb and stuffs you full. He keeps rocking into you slowly, noticing your hips still working yourself down. “My beautiful wife.” He sighs lovingly once you both still.
You beam, chest still heaving. He reaches out to push your perfectly styled hair—now a perfectly styled mess—out of your face. He leans down to kiss you softly, as full of love as everything else.
“You really do look so gorgeous like this…now that I��ve had you I don’t understand how I can be expected to do much else.” He smirks softly, admiring your fucked out expression and lovebites one more time. “I’m so happy we’re finally married. I never thought…I never thought I would be happy. Much less like this.”
He smiles warmly down at you, letting your legs fall. He doesn’t care if you two make a mess of the suite, this is what it was meant for. He kisses your forehead one last time, letting his weight fall to the side of you instead.
You giggle at his remark, having been on cloud nine all day long. The love you’ve nursed since childhood has blossomed into the love you will know for the rest of your life. He lifts his arm up, signaling for you to lay on his chest. He loves holding you like this, and you feel so safe tucked in his arm. You lay your head on his pec, hand over his heart. He smiles, and kisses the crown of your head. He truly never imagines a life where he was a married man, worshiping his wife on their wedding day. He was sure he was bound to a sour future, full of loneliness and darkness. Your voice brings him back, the weight of you against his body reminds him of what is real.
“You think you’re happy now? Just wait until you watch me swell with the baby you gave me tonight.” You hum, looking up at him so adorably that he wants nothing more than that. He squeezes you to him, and in a way, his touches tell you more than his words ever can. You know you’ve turned him on again by the statement—and the way his hand kneads the plush of your ass—but…it is your honeymoon after all.
#naruto x reader#kyleewritesnaruto#sasuke smut#sasuke x reader#sasuke uchiha#uchiha sasuke#sasuke uchiha x reader
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could you possibly do a benedict bridgerton friends to lovers fic with maybe some jealousy thrown in there? i adore your writing 🫶🏻
this request could not have come at a better time! i finally started my bridgerton rewatch recently and i can feel myself sparking with ideas yet again :) || 2k words, tw benedict is PINING & this is much more suggestive than my usual content, so 18+ please!
can't bear it - benedict bridgerton x reader
He looked bored. It was the first thing you noticed upon entering the ballroom and, in truth, it was often the first thing you noticed upon entering any ballroom. Over your years of friendship, it seemed you had a highly trained eye to seek him out amongst any crowd.
Just as your eyes strayed to him, as if he had similar training, his found you. What had been a dull stare at the ground to avoid any accidental eye contact with the Mamas scattered about the room quickly became a bright and excitable gaze locked to yours and you returned his slow-spreading smile with a rather unladylike grin.
"Hi," he mouthed, a grin of his own now twisting his features. You shook your head at him fondly, biting the inside of your cheek in a foolish attempt to stop your grin from growing any wider.
You were lucky to have a sister with whom your mother was preoccupied. It made it easy to hurry along the sides of the ballroom, exchanging nods with those you passed without stopping to greet them properly, to end up next to Benedict in record time.
You stood side by side, your usual routine, the backs of your hands inches apart but both facing outwards, as if surveying the rest of the room. Each one of your senses was entirely tuned into him as soon as you entered his presence, but it would not look as such to any onlookers.
"You'll start more rumours if you keep trying to communicate across such wide distances, Lord Bridgerton," you began, eyes fixed on the twirling couples so you didn't sneak a glance in his direction, "I thought we were attempting to rid ourselves of the clamours for our engagement."
"They can hardly read into a mere greeting," he responded easily, the words a mere murmur from the corner of his mouth, "I am a gentleman, as you know, and it would be impolite to simply ignore you."
"It would. You couldn't ignore me if you tried, anyway," you mused, "You'd get ever so bored."
"Always so self-important."
His mutter makes you bite back a smirk. Perhaps facing away from each other did nothing to hide your obvious conversation after all. Violet would be sure to notice, you knew, and may once again force Benedict into explaining the lack of proposal between the two of you.
In recent weeks, however, you had been struggling to explain it to yourself. Benedict was so dear to you, so utterly different to the men that regularly bored you, that once you had struck up such unlikely friendship, it seemed you valued it far too much to take it any further.
That, and there had never been any indication that Benedict himself saw marital potential within you. He was by no means a shy man. If he wanted you, you were quite sure he would have swept you off your feet by now.
And what a sweeping it would be, in those strong arms barely concealed by the crisp white shirt, billowing fabric...
"Good evening, Miss Y/L/N," a voice broke you from your spell, and your gaze accidentally drifted to Benedict in surprise before landing on the man interrupting you, "I believe I was promised a dance last we met, and I have heard you are a lady of your word."
You had to fight to keep yourself from frowning as you wracked your brains for his name. Unfortunately, you came up entirely empty and had no choice but to respond vaguely.
"I certainly would not like to gain a reputation for breaking promises," you smiled as taught, taking in handsome features and arms that didn't fill in a shirt nearly as well as Benedict's. You shook that thought from your head as you placed your hand in the unnamed stranger's own, "It would be an honour."
There was a splutter to your left, no doubt Benedict struggling to conceal his amusement at the sudden change in your tone. You allowed the man to lead you to the dance floor, turning subtly to send Benedict a wry smile but finding him staring right through you, expression anything but amused.
It wiped the smile clean off your own face.
His face was thunder throughout your dance, you noticed, however much you tried to focus on the pleasantly mundane conversation provided by your new partner. He really was quite good looking, if only you could appreciate it, but you were entirely preoccupied by Benedict's new foul mood and what could have caused it.
As the dance ended, you bowed politely to your captor, which was the only word that came to mind for him, and hurried in the direction of your favourite friend only to find him gone. This time you did frown, despite your mother's warnings of wrinkles, and picked up your skirt lightly as you slipped out of the ballroom.
Searching side room after side room proved useful. You soon found what could be described as a studio, with large windows to let the light in but currently only cast moonlight across the canvases spread around the room. The moon also lit up half of Benedict, who was stood at the window, staring out into the gardens.
"Be prepared to hide under that desk if anyone should come knocking," you said, startling him as you clicked the door shut behind you, "I shan't let you compromise my honour just because I have to chase after you when you're having a tantrum."
He glowered at you at the mention of a tantrum, the kind of look he usually levelled his brothers with rather than you. It was new territory and you found yourself quickly floundering.
"I did not bid you to follow me."
"And yet here I am," you reminded, taking a tentative step, "So why don't you put a stop to this strange mood and tell me what's wrong?"
"I'd rather not," he said curtly, his voice a little wrong as he turned to face you at last. Were those tears? "Please return to the festivities and I will join you momentarily."
You'd never seen Benedict cry before. In fact, you weren't sure you'd ever seen a man cry in your life, and the sight was terrifying. You wanted nothing more than to wrap him up in a long overdue embrace, but you kept yourself stock still in the middle of the room.
"Benedict..." you began, not sure where you were going despite the plea in your voice, "Please. I have never seen you like this."
He laughs, but its harsh.
"You must not be very observant then, Y/N."
"I beg your pardon?"
"In fact, you must be positively blind. Maddeningly so. How do you ever get anything done?"
You could feel tears of your own welling up in your eyes and blinked them away furiously. It was a great effort to keep your voice level when you spoke.
"I have known you to be many things, Bridgerton, but you are not cruel. I am sure I have done nothing to deserve such vehement insult, so-"
"I quite disagree," he interrupted, face fierce as he stalked over to you until he was right in front of you. Your chest heaved as you looked up at him, eyes wide, and felt the rise of his chest almost against your own, "You are observant, Y/N, and far from blind. It is your cruelty at fault here, not mine. It is yours."
He hissed the last word, pointing a finger at you so close to your chest that your head was spinning. His closeness was intoxicating, his scent crowding you out of enough oxygen and his words were making you lightheaded with panic.
"You're not making any sense," you murmured. His fingertips ghosted across the fabric of your dress near your hips, barely there, and nowhere near the skin underneath.
"You must see it," he mutters back, all gritted teeth and barely concealed restraint, "You must see that I worship you. That I always have."
Your inhale sounded more like a gasp. He shook his head above you, moving closer until his chin was pressed hard into your temple and you keened into the touch.
"I know you do not feel the same. And you are not obligated to, I swear it. But taunting me as you do. Playing with me only to dance with another..." he trails off, breath shuddering, and you can hear those tears in his voice again, "I can't bear it. Please, Y/N, I cannot bear it."
Neither can you.
You reach up and take his face in both hands, finding chiseled cheekbones and jawline, thumbs either side of his lips as you pull him until you can look up into his face again. Your gaze flickers across his face, and you wipe the tears from his face with shaking fingers.
"You're blind, Benedict," you say, leaning up on your tiptoes until your lips brush his, soft, like the ghost of his fingertips against fabric. You know what you want him to do and you need him to do it first, need him to take your lead and run away with it.
When he fists his hands in your dress at your hips and drags you into him, your prayers are answered.
He opens your mouth to his, still gentle but insistent, demanding more, more, more of you. You'd give him everything, right here, mainly because you know he'd never take it. He seems more than content with the here and now as it is, especially when your hands slip into his hair and he lets out a low grumble of a moan that you feel everywhere.
He's trying to pull you closer still when you break for air, gasping it in as the two of you pant into each other's mouths. He runs a hand down your hair, your neck, your arm, until he intertwines his fingers with yours, chases your lips for a peck, then another, then another. You meet him with a lazy grin.
"I dance with the Lords of the ton every ball," you breathe out, "I'd have noticed if you reacted like this every time."
Benedict was grinning too. He looked far more like himself when he did.
"They are usually old, ugly fools," he said, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the thought, "I always hate them having their hands all over you, but watching a young charming bastard who may just have a chance with you hold you as I have always dreamed of doing? It was enough."
"He never had a chance, my Lord," you assured, tracing his hairline, his earlobe just to see him shiver, "You are, as already accused, blissfully blind. Blind as a bat, I should think."
"Recent developments would suggest that to be true," he mused, glowing in a way he wouldn't usually when wrong. Then, all too quickly, his face briefly fell, "I truly apologise for all that I said to you, Y/N. There is no excuse, it was cruel."
"Hm," you agreed, "It was. Although, I can think of a multitude of ways you can make it up to me. Would you care to hear them?"
His eyes lit up at the realisation of your teasing. It was familiar, exactly what had drawn you both to each other time and time again. It was likely what would keep you together for eternity.
"I would like nothing more."
"How about I sit right up here..." you began lowly, moving to take a seat on the desk, "-you sit yourself underneath this desk, and we can have a conversation about compromising my honour."
You grinned at him wolfishly. It looked almost as if his eyes rolled back into his head already, but it wasn't long until he was kneeling in front of you, hands on the hem of your dress.
"And what would you know about compromising your honour, Miss Y/L/N?"
You ran a hand through his hair and used it to roughly yank him forward, until his nose was pressed to the fabric of your dress, exactly where you wanted him. It was easy to see it now, as he stared up at you in total awe: the way he worshipped you.
"Let's find out, shall we?"
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#benedict bridgerton x reader#benedict x reader#benedict bridgerton imagine#benedict bridgerton fanfiction#benedict bridgerton#bridgerton#bridgerton x reader#bridgerton imagine#bridgerton fanfiction
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SOMETHING TO FIGHT FOR - VIGNETTE #3
SPOILERS IF YOU HAVEN'T READ SOMETHING TO FIGHT FOR
RATING: PG
tags: Pregnancy, Talk of pregnancy anxieties, fluff, Joel being sweet, Sarah being the sweetest.
Summary: As requested from my comment section on a03: You find out your pregnant and tell Joel.
a/n: To all of you who send me messages on here and leave comments about my STFF story to this day, know that y'all have my heart in your hands and this is for you.
----------------------------------------------
You find out during your monthly girl’s night with Maria huddled under blankets, a glass of wine forgotten on the table and plenty of magazines spread over your laps. You’re very interested in the home repair ones now, similar to Maria. She’s thinking of installing a games room in the basement (your former apartment). Joel has mentioned something about doing some built-ins for the kitchen and the thought delights you.
“Isn’t it so nice to be married to handy men?” you muse with a dreamy smile as you flip through the glossy pages.
“It really is,” Maria replies equally dreamy. She hears the gentle thud and shriek from upstairs and smirks. “Tommy’s putting Jackson to bed but we’re weaning him from his soother.”
“Good luck, Tommy.”
The two of you giggle before swapping magazines, pointing out fixtures you like, dreaming about perfect kitchens and listening to Maria catch you up on Jackson, the wild toddler who keeps both she and Tommy on their toes. You love hearing about Jackson, since you’re his favorite person (aside from his parents). You and Joel often babysit for Maria when she and Tommy need a night off. Nights spent watching movies with Sarah on one end of the couch next to you and a dozing toddler between you and Joel make you feel strangely contented.
“We’re thinking of having another one,” Maria says with a coy grin.
You slap her thigh under the blanket excitedly. Thoughts of them expanding their family makes your heart squeeze with joy.
“Really?”
“Yeah, are we insane? One is already enough work.”
“No!” you insist joyfully. “That’s so w-“
Before you can answer properly a wave of nausea goes through you. Maria’s eyes go wide as you fling the blanket from your legs and go staggering to the washroom. You barely make it in before you’re throwing up into the sink. Maria is there to hold your hair back, waiting until you’ve finished before running the sink and cleaning your mouth.
“Where did that come from?” she muses. “Food poisoning?”
“I don’t think so,” you insist, wiping at your damp mouth. “It’s like all of a sudden I just felt sick.”
“Nervous about anything? Work?”
“No, work’s great.”
“And Sarah? Joel?”
“Perfect,” you answer honestly. “I don’t remember ever being this happy.”
“Hmmmm,” Maria nods as you shakily make your way out of the washroom. She gives you a short laugh. “Pregnant?”
You start to laugh along with her before you pause. Like bullets to your brain you’re assaulted with the memory of Joel coming to your office to fuck your brains out. Unprotected, excited at the thought of getting pregnant. But it never happens on the first try! The percentages of that is so low! Everyone knows that… right?
When you don’t reply right away Maria turns, brows raised. “Something you’re not telling me?”
“Uh…”
“Get back in there,” Maria says, ushering you back into the bathroom. She drops to her knees and retrieves a box from the far back under the counter. A pregnancy test. She thrusts it into your hands and grins widely.
“Hope you have to pee.”
---
Ten minutes later you and Maria stare at the dual lines on the pregnancy test.
“You’re pregnant.”
“Holy shit.”
“You’re gonna have a baby.”
“Holy fuck.”
All of a sudden Maria gives a large shriek of excitement, pulling you into her arms and jumping.
“Wait, no, shhhh,” you insist, not wanting Tommy to hear. “I don’t want anyone else knowing before Joel. Don’t say anything to anyone until I give you the go ahead.”
“Oh of course,” Maria nods, her eyes bright with excitement. “How are you gonna tell him?”
You pause, thinking of all the romantic gestures Joel has thrown your way during both your courtship and your marriage. It has to be something special, something memorable.
Joel deserves the best.
///
The next morning you sit at the kitchen table with your coffee and a piece of paper covered in your scribbles. You look down critically at your list, frowning.
1. Put actual bun in oven. Cheesy??
2. World's greatest Dad Mug? Where would I get it done ASAP?
3. Scavenger hunt?
You've worked on this stupid thing all morning while Joel went into the office and nothing on it looks good. It turns out grand gestures aren’t really your natural style. The thought seems daunting at best.
You considered having Sarah tell him, but you want to tell Sarah together. You want Joel to be a part of sharing that with her.
You hear tiny feet making their way down the stairs and you quickly ball the useless list up into a ball before throwing it into the garbage can.
"Hi Mama," Sarah says padding into the kitchen with a sleepy smile. She's wearing polar bear pyjamas tonight, ones you got her for Christmas. She's growing faster than expected, her ankles already showing.
"Morning."
She wraps her tiny arms around your middle, squeezing gently as you hold her. You rock gety from side to side before you smile down at her, pushing a curl of hair from her large eyes. You curl, pressing a warm kiss to the top of her head.
"Have good dreams, bug?"
"Yeah," Sarah insists with a bright smile up at you. She follows you around to the oven, standing at your hip and chatting away.
Joel is normally the Sunday morning pancake maker, but on the odd weekend he's busy with work you take over kitchen duties. Thankfully he had the batter already prepped and waiting because you are a shit chef. It took you weeks before you stopped burning each one.
You lift the waiting Sarah and place her on the nearby counter to watch. You love these little traditions you share with her. Every year you feel a little bit more like her mother, every time she calls you Mama or requests it be you that kisses her scraped knee better, every moment she clings to your hips or draws you a picture makes your heart squeezes with adoration for her.
"So what did you dream about?"
You place a small bowl of blueberries on the counter for her to snack on as she jiggles her legs absently as she tries to recall her dream.
"I dreamed that there was a zoo and me and daddy we went but the animals were all gone," she says taking a handful of blueberries and chewing. "And we had churros but-but they were bad and uh..."
"Uh huh," you say politely even though your mind is a billion miles away.
"And I dreamed that I could fly over, um, up over the school and-and," Sarah stumbles over her words to get the story out. "You remember like in that movie where the guy flies in the car?"
"Oh yeah."
"Like that guy. Plus I dreamed I had a little sister and she didn't wear the hat I gave her."
This gives you a start. You whip your head to face her fully, the pancake temporarily forgotten.
"You dreamt you had a little sister?"
"Yeah," Sarah pops another blueberry into her mouth, her tongue already stained blue. "She was so cute and small."
Your heart jumps into your throat.
"What was that like?" You ask, trying to be subtle as you go back to flipping the pancake. "Did you like being a big sister?"
"It was only a dream mama," Sarah tells you with a good natured laugh, as if you're a silly fool who doesn't know the difference. "I don't have a sister."
"Of course," you say with a smile, dishing the pancake onto Sarah's plate. "Mama was just being silly."
///
MARIA: Have u told him yet??
Not yet. I just got the official confirmation from the doctor yesterday.
MARIA: C'mon!! I'm dying to tell Tommy! It's been A WEEK!
Just wait. I need to make it perfect.
MARIA: Just fucking tell him!!!!!!
The truth is you have no idea how to tell Joel. The entire thing seems strangely stressful and you wish you could be as naturally romantic as he is. You gaze at him over breakfast, taking in the curls that fall into his forehead, the strong line of his jaw and nose. And that’s not even the sexiest thing about him! He’s so kind, so patient, so fucking loving.
"You know the spare room upstairs?" Joel says not noticing how distracted you are. "I was thinkin' of turning it into a playroom for Sarah. Might mean havin' to put some stuff down in your office to store if that’s okay by you."
Your body tenses.
But that's where the baby will go.
"I was actually thinking we could turn it into an extra bedroom," you offer quickly. Joel glances up from his coffee, brows quirked.
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"What do you want that done for?"
"To have a guest room," you lie. "When Jackson gets bigger he'll need somewhere to sleep, right? Not just a portable crib. And what if my mom comes to visit?"
"Suppose so, yeah." Joel takes a look around the room with a critical eye as if just seeing his kitchen for the first time. "Maybe we need more space."
You're not paying attention to that last murmured comment. All you can fixate on is the fact that in nine short months you're going to have a baby.
A baby. Pregnant.
A wave of nausea hits you again, but you manage to excuse yourself without raising any alarm.
///
It's not until that Saturday that things go pear shaped.
You rise with a yawn and a stretch, your hand absently stroking down your midsection. How strange to imagine it swollen with life, your son or daughter.
"Mornin' baby," Joel greets you from behind with a sleepy growl. The kind of sound that hits you below the navel.
You roll to face him, your cheeks flushed. He's so sexy in the morning with his tussled hair and sleepy eyes. Your love for him feels overwhelming at this point and you decide to just tell him flat out that he's going to be a father again. No bells, no whistles.
"Morning handsome," you reply, hand sliding between the two of you to grasp his forearm. "Joel I wanted to-"
Before anything else can be said, the door to your bedroom is flung open and a bleary eyed Sarah comes stumbling in.
She mumbles something about going to the park before clamoring into the bed, situating herself under the covers between you and Joel. She snuggles up to her father, calling over her shoulder to you.
"Mama can you give me back scratches?"
After ten minutes of good back scratches Joel suggests it’s time for pancakes and then a trip to the park. You and Sarah give an enthusiastic yes to this suggestion because you need some time to think of how to tell Joel. It seems a direct approach might not work with Sarah around.
Full of pancakes and wearing your favorite sundress (and Sarah her favorite purple sneakers) the three of you drive to a new park Joel suggests. It's in a nicer part of Austin with lots of greenery and expensive looking homes.
The park is bustling with families and you watch as the ever social Sarah waves to you and Joel before taking off for the swings. You both watch your daughter playing but your mind is a million miles away, stuck on two lines on a pregnancy test.
The shock has worn off now, leaving you with a thrumming excitement that terrifies as well as thrills you. This morning it had been all thrills, the thought of telling Joel and how he would react. But now hours later it’s been replaced with terror of all the things that could go wrong.
Your husband holds a cup of coffee in one hand, the other rubbing along your spine absently. You lean into his touch, your eyes on Sarah and your mind on the child slowly knitting itself together within your womb.
"This is a nice neighborhood," Joel observes, glancing around as you watch Sarah pump her legs on the swing. "Close to the schools."
"Mhmm," you answer not really listening.
What would you name the baby? Do you want a boy or girl?
Joel continues to drone on beside you.
"..could even walk with Sarah to school..."
What if Joel changed his mind? What if after all of this he doesn't want to be a dad again?
Sarah rushes off the swing and you absently observe as she clamors to the top of the slide.
What if Sarah hates the baby?
".... for cutting the grass and..."
What if you're a terrible mother? What if you're selfish like your dad?
"... different mailbox, but I don't...."
Fuck what if your baby grows up and hates you?
"...So what do you think of this place?" Joel asks, his hand tightening around your waist. The sensation brings your attention back to the present and after a delay his words catch up in your mind.
You glance over to see the house he's pointing at, a pale yellow suburban home with ornate windows and large front yard.
"S'nice," you observe. "You and Tommy doing renovations on it?"
"No," Joel says and you feel his deep intake of breath behind you. His large fingers tap along your hip. "I mean, what do you think of livin' there?"
Confusion suffuses you all over. You turn to face your husband, brows furrowed.
“Huh? What are you talking about?"
"I just got to thinking after we talked that maybe we need to think of moving somewhere bigger. More space and-"
Joel suddenly breaks off when he sees fat tears rolling down his wife's cheeks. He's immediately on guard, hands coming to cup her face.
"Baby what's wrong?"
"I don't wanna move!" You blubber, suddenly overcome. "I love our house."
Joel's heart softens at this remark. He'd always worried you'd thought of the house on Rancher Street as his. He bought it before you, raised Sarah there. Hearing you refer to it as home makes him pull you tight, pressing tender kisses to your forehead.
“Don’t you think we need a bigger place?” Joel asks, eyes wide with concern. “I thought that’s what you’d been hinting at.”
"We have enough space," you insist, wiping your damp cheeks with the back of your hand.
“But you’ve been goin’ on about converting that spare room upstairs and I thought maybe you’d wanna get a place we both chose,“ he reasons.
“No!” you insist, eyes welling with tears. “Joel we fell in love here, this is where you raised Sarah, and it’s where you proposed to me. I never want to leave Rancher Street. I fell in love with you in that house, Joel. You and Sarah. There are so many memories in that house. I want the baby to grow up in the same place as Sarah and I want-"
Joel's sharp intake of breath stops you from continuing. You watch as his eyes fill with tears.
"The baby?"
///
Sarah watches her parents from the top of the slide as other children clamor around her. She sees them talking while facing one another with Mama looking at Daddy with a serious look. Sarah has never seen them fight before and she wonders if this is what's happening.
Sarah is further confused as Daddy looks down at Mama's tummy then back to her face. He keeps saying the same word over and over but Sarah can't make it out through the din of the noisy kids around her.
Sarah's anxiety is erased as Daddy starts to smile wider than Sarah's ever seen, his eyes disappearing into half moon crescents.
He grabs Mama in his arms and raises her off the ground. Sarah giggles when Mama gives a loud yelp of surprise, the two of them laughing before Mama wraps her arms around Daddy's neck and kisses him all the while with tears running down her cheeks.
Allergies, Sarah decides.
Daddy lowers Mama to the ground, their lips breaking apart so that their foreheads can touch gently. Their eyes are closed and Daddy is saying something to Mama and she's nodding.
Their eyes open and Daddy's hands are cupping Mama's cheeks. She's smiling up at him and Sarah thinks she sees a tear rolling down the curve of her Daddy's cheek but she can't be sure.
Sarah looks away when he kisses Mama again, feeling shy to see it even though it secretly delights her. When she glances back up Daddy and Mama are scanning the playground for her. Daddy finds her first (he always does) and he waves at her.
"Come down here babygirl," Daddy calls over to her. "Let's go for ice cream."
Sarah squeals excitedly, throwing herself down the slide and jogging over to her parents. Mama lifts her up into her arms for a tight embrace even though Sarah's getting too big for it. But she allows it because Mama's hugs are the best.
"I love you, bug."
"Love you Mama." Sarah glances over her shoulder at her father. "You too, Daddy."
Joel chuckles and presses a gentle kiss to the crown of her head. Mama lowers her to the ground and both she and Daddy take one of Sarah's hands, the three of them walking to the truck to drive to the ice cream shop they always visit in the summer.
You've just reached for the handle to the truck when Sarah suddenly stops and glances up at your face, a beam spreading across her features as if she's just come to a sudden realization. And even though she doesn’t ask and even though her parents won’t officially tell her for months to come, Sarah just knows she’s getting a sister.
#something to fight for fic#something to fight for series#something to fight for#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller smut#joel miller#dad joel miller#pedro pascal#fanfiction#fanfic#joel x reader#joel the last of us#joel miller x f!reader#joel tlou#joel fanfic
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Tiny Toes: Part 6.2 - Cassian x Reader
Here's the second installment of the Ottie-Calling-Y/N-Mum mini-series
Summary: Birthdays + Surprises + Big Changes 2.0
Word Count: 1.7k
You can read the previous part here
A small commotion on the other side of your bedroom door had you tossing in your sleep, somewhat aware of the fact that something was going on but not conscious enough to fully bring yourself to care. However, it was the wafting smell of pancakes, and waffles, and eggs, and bacon, and toast – basically all the breakfast foods you could possibly think of – that had your eyes blearily blinking open.
Now that you were properly awake, you could clearly make out the hushed voices of Cassian and Ottie; knowing that they were there had an automatic smile tugging on your lips as you rolled over and pulled the blankets tighter around you.
“Ottie,” you could just make out the sound of Cassian opening the door, “I think she’s still asleep, so what do you need to do?”
You were certain that Cassian knew you were awake purely from the teasing tone in his voice, yet, you remained still, eyes closed, as Ottie bounded across the floor and, with a determined flap of her wings, landed on the bed beside you.
“Happy Birthday!”
You opened your eyes, coming face to face with a grinning Ottie who was excitedly jumping on the bed next to you. Once she saw that you were awake, she let out a squeal before attacking you with a hug and countless kisses to your cheeks.
“Oh, hello.” You mused with a sleepy smile, arms wrapping around her as she fell against you, making room for Cassian to sit on the mattress beside you.
“Happy Birthday!” Ottie repeated again.
“Thank you, sweetheart. How did you know it was my birthday today?”
“Daddy told me.” She looked over at Cassian with a conspiratorial nod.
“Did he just?” You shot a glare at Cassian who was smiling at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He was well aware of the fact that you didn’t want to do anything to celebrate this year, after a few hundred years the excitement eventually wore off. But if Ottie knew it was your birthday…
“- we have lots and lots of things planned for you today,” she excitedly said, going back to bouncing on the bed as Cassian silently shifted to lay next to you, his fingers lacing through yours. “We’ll do presents, then after presents we have breakfast, then after breakfast we get ready for the day, then after we’re ready… oh no.”
Cassian looked up from you, midway through pressing a kiss to your cheek. “What’s wrong, princess?”
“I forgot to get my birthday card.” Spreading her wings, Ottie was, once again, in the air before landing with a soft thud on the floor. You huffed a laugh as you felt Cassian tense beside you, watching her every move with trained efficiency.
“Cauldron, I’m still not used to her being able to do that,” he said aloud before turning back to you with a soft smile, “Happy Birthday, love.”
You hummed as Cassian moved to hover above you, arms wrapping around his neck as he leant down to slant his lips over yours. The kiss was cut off as quickly as it started as Ottie ran back into the room and flew up onto the bed again.
“Birthday card, birthday card,” she said in a sing-song voice, basically pushing Cassian off of you so that she could have your full attention. You shifted up the mattress so that you were now leaning against the headboard, Cassian settling beside you and slipping an arm around your waist so that he could tug you closer against him.
“Is that for me?” you asked Ottie as she sat on your lap, excitement radiating off of her as she constantly shifted as though unable to keep still.
“Yep, I made it all by myself.”
“Oh, it’s beautiful. Thank you so much, Ottie” your heart lit up at the positively delighted look on her face as she took in your complement.
“You have to read it,” you smiled at her again as you opened the homemade card, taking in the swirls of colours that were spread out across the page. “No,” Ottie was quick to interject, “you have to read it out loud, silly.”
Cassian peered over your shoulder at the card, sharing an amused look with you as you both tried to decipher what the scribbles meant.
“Ottie, you know what would make this card even more special? If you read it for Y/N.”
“Oh, okay.” Ottie seemed to contemplate the idea for a moment before grabbing the card from you with a determined little nod as her eyes scanned over the paper.
You shifted slightly so that you were now leaning against Cassian’s chest, his arms tightly wrapping around you with his chin resting on top of your head as you waited for Ottie to begin.
“Dear Y/N, daddy wrote that bit to help me get started but I did the rest, I promise,” you gave her a reassuring smile, prompting her to continue.
“Dear Y/N, happy happy happy birthday. You are going to have a good day, no, the bestest day, because… because you just will. And because Daddy and I planned lots and lots of surprises for you, because it is your birthday.”
You let a smile light up your face at Ottie’s words, based on the way her eyes switched between one specific spot on the paper, then to you then to Cassian and back again, it was clear that she was just saying whatever came to mind, but, truthfully, you found that even more special.
“Ummm, thank you for giving me lots of cuddles, and for making cupcakes with me, and for always reading me a bedtime story and tucking me in. And… oh! Thank you for making Daddy laugh and smile. And thank you for being my mummy and I really, really love you. I love you this much,” she flung her arms out wide, seemingly straining to create even more distance between the tips of her fingers. “And thank you for having your birthday today because it means we get to eat lots of cake – which was supposed to be a surprise.”
Ottie finished with a proud grin as she looked between you and Cassian with a sense of finality. She was quick to lean against you to point out what each drawing on the card was, completely missing the way your eyes teared up and the emotion filled glace you and Cassian shared.
“Daddy?” Ottie asked in an overemphasised whisper, pulling the two of you out of the trance you had been in. “Can we go downstairs and open presents now?”
“I – uh – Sorry, Ottie, yes of course. Shall we eat some of the secret pancakes we made at the same time?” Cassian asked, tearing his gaze away from you as a brilliant smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
“Oh! Yes, please! Come on, mummy…Y/N, umm,” Ottie cocked her head at you, fumbling over her words whilst trying to make sense of them. “Come on, I want you to open my present first because it’s going to be your favourite. Daddy said I can’t tell you what it is yet...”
You were stuck, frozen against Cassian as you watched her jump off of the bed and wait for you by the door, jumping excitedly from foot to foot.
Cassian squeezed your shoulders as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder blade, your neck, then the top of your head. “Come on, love, we’ve got presents to open and pancakes to eat, don’t we Ottie?”
Climbing out of bed together, Cassian was quick to lace his fingers through yours, giving them a reassuring squeeze as you followed Ottie out of the room.
“Cass…” you started, still at a loss for words.
“Are you okay?” he pulled you to a stop while Ottie leapt down the stairs, softly singing to herself and completely oblivious to the weight her words held over you. “I can have a chat with her, tell her not to–”
“No, it’s fine,” you said softly, cupping his face as your eyes scanned for any flickers of emotion that would give you insight into what he thought of the situation.
“You don’t mind?”
“No, I – I don’t think so.” You smiled at him, feeling a shift as the implication of this next step took hold.
“Good.”
“Good?” That was all he had to say? Good?
“Yeah, good. Now hurry up, we’ve got presents to open.” He said with a wink.
“Cassian?” you said, still rooted to the spot despite the calloused hand that tried to tug you further down the stairs. He turned back around, a soft smile gracing his handsome features as he stepped closer to you.
“As long as you’re okay with it, we’ll figure the rest out later, alright?” You nodded in response, a smile pulling at your lips to ease the sudden tension and doubt that creased between Cassian’s brows, already feeling more at ease now that you knew he was alright with what happened.
“I love you, Y/N. Just so you know in case I hadn’t already told you that today.”
You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down so that his face was level with your own, “I love you,” you murmured back before pressing your lips against his.
Once again, you were interrupted as Ottie reappeared at the bottom of the stairs. “Y/N,” she yelled up to you excitedly, “you were taking forever, so I already opened a present for you. Look, it’s a book.”
Cassian scoffed, ready to chastise her as she ran back into the living room, leaving a trail of wrapping paper and ribbons behind her. You pressed another soft kiss to Cassian’s lips, unable to fight off the smile that you were sure matched the one spreading across his face.
“Come on, I don’t want any more surprises ruined for me today.” You said with a laugh as you held Cassian’s hand and continued down the stairs.
“Don’t worry, love. There are plenty of surprises left in store.”
*****
Read Part 6.3 now!
*****
Tag List: @mis-lil-red @sarawritestories @beardburnsupersoldiers @eve175 @blushingfawnsposts @turtleshavesoulmates @slytherinindisguise @sleepylunarwolf @starryhiraeth @tele86 @azrielsmate3 @anuttellaa @purple-haired-faerie @lilac-witch @cassianstannn32 @littlelunatica @nighttimemoonlover @azrielsmate3 @fxckmiup @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @talesofadragon
Let me know if you wanted to be added!
#cassian x reader#cassian acotar#cassian x y/n#cassian x you#dad!cassian#rhysand acotar#azriel acotar#feyre acotar#cassian imagine#cassian fluff#marley writes
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can you do a scenario where the reader and chaewon are casually hanging and they get touchy to the point where one of them realizes how close they are, but the other is oblivious? (bro I'm so delulu for chaewon i need to stop)
of course! sorry for the late response and short length, but here's to quality over quantity?
sweet revenge
pairings: kim chaewon x reader
genre: fluff!
words: 685
"yah get away from me!" you squealed as chaewon attempted to wipe her cookie dough-covered hands on your shirt.
"you're being a bad sport!"
"i just don't want to get my hands dirty!"
"that's what baking is all about!? you were literally the one who suggested we make cookies for our members."
"mushing your hands around in the dough isn't the only part of baking cookies! i helped in other ways, like weighing the ingredients."
"but mushing your hands around in the dough is the best part! come on y/n, don't make me go all 'leader' on you right now."
"are you threatening me?"
"maybe...so i suggest you join in, or else." there was a slight smirk playing on chaewon's lips, but the threat certainly felt real to you- she was pretty scary when asserting her leader authority.
"alright fine." you begrudgingly agreed, rolling up your sleeves as you approached the bowl. "your superiority complex is starting to get out of hand."
"if my superiority complex gets you to bake cookies properly, then i think not."
"psh whatever." you nudged her with your shoulder before reluctantly diving your hands into the sticky batter. "this feels weird."
"you'll get used to it." chaewon replied with a giggle before proceeding to wash her hands in the sink.
as you kneaded the cookie dough, chaewon prepared the kitchen surface with flour- an idea coming to her mind moments later.
you suddenly felt the woman boop your nose and glanced up at her in confusion, causing her to chuckle loudly.
"what's so funny?"
"nothing..."
"okay...?" you went back to work, but chaewon continued to stare at you. the little spot of flour on your nose made you look adorable amidst your concentration, she couldn't help but smile softly in admiration.
"i can feel you staring, what is it?"
"oh uh-"
you look pretty
"it's nothing. just waiting for you to finish."
"don't put pressure on me! it's almost ready just look away."
chaewon giggled once again and did as you requested, busying herself with organising the cookie cutters. little did she know you took that opportunity to inspect your reflection in the nearby window and found just what you'd suspected. two can play that game.
"alright i'm done." you announced once the dough was adequate.
"hey that looks good! i told you it was fun."
"hmm, it wasn't so bad after a while." you mused while washing your hands, devising a revenge plot.
as the leader began to remove the dough from the bowl and place it onto the floured work surface, you subtly placed both your hands flat on a patch of it. chaewon was too focused to notice how they were now covered in the substance.
"you look so pretty chae." you cooed before slyly holding her face in your hands.
"oh i.." luckily you were covering her cheeks so her blush wasn't noticeable.
chaewon struggled to grasp for an appropriate response when all she could focus on was the compromising position she was in. something about receiving affection from you made her yearn for it, and it was rare of you to be so forward as you were in that moment.
instead of replying, chaewon wrapped her arms around your waist and pulled you slightly closer. it felt natural, the way your hands cupped her cheeks and her arms rested behind your back. her eyes scanned your features, savouring the closeness of your pretty eyes and the curve of your tempting lips.
"you look pretty too." she mumbled.
however, to her confusion, you began to giggle.
"you're funny." and as quick as it had happened, you drew away. chaewon felt her stomach lurch a little as you did so. she wanted so desperately for you to reciprocate her actions and draw her even closer, but you were now hurrying to retrieve something.
"what are you looking for?" the leader questioned, failing to mask the disheartenment in her voice.
"got it." you replied, holding your phone victoriously. "let's take a selfie."
"okay?"
when the camera revealed her powered cheeks chaewon let out a screech and slapped you playfully.
"what the heck y/n!?" you continued to laugh until your sides hurt, you now had some good pictures for leverage against your leader and her superiority complex.
#chaewon#chaewon x reader#kim chaewon#kim chaewon x reader#gxg#kpop#kpop x reader#le sserafim x reader#le sserafim#fluff
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Suck It and See | Joel Miller
Authors Note | Alright fuckers, you can blame @swiftispunk for this one. She dropped absolute filth into my inbox last night and it's all I've been able to think about since. Imagine Joel giving you the look from the last gif from here whilst in that position above?! SAY LESS PLEASE. Wrote this in like four hours, so excuse any mistakes.
Warnings | Honestly this is just literal porn. Rough, sloppy blowjob and some cum play at the end and nothing much else. I'm not even sorry. Enjoy.
Pairing | Joel Miller x Female Reader
Main Masterlist
It’s raining yet again. You recoiled into the shiver that went up your spine as you glared out of the window, cursing the fact that it had rained yesterday, and the day before and was likely to rain tomorrow. The dingy apartment in the QZ is so old and damp that nothing has a chance to properly dry out, unless it’s the height of summer, so you’re sat in a pair of cold, damp jeans and a t-shirt, hoping that the blanket wrapped around your shoulders would help for warmth. It didn’t.
It's dark out and there are very few people milling about the streets below you. A few FEDRA assholes patrolling the streets and the last few stragglers trying to make it home before curfew hits, but it doesn’t strike you as an evening that’s going to be memorable. You turn your attention back to the book in your lap. You have no idea what it’s about, if anyone asked you to explain the plot to them, you’d fail, despite being almost three-quarters finished. Joel had brought it back with him from his last smuggling run, he’d tossed it in your direction, mumbling something about ‘the cover lookin’ like somethin’ you’d enjoy.” You had no idea what he was talking about considering the cover featured a scantily clad woman and her hero without his shirt on. Come to think of it, there really wouldn’t be much plot to explain to anyone considering the two main characters spent most of their time fucking. It was something to do with your time though – relegated to being shut in Joel’s apartment whilst he did runs with Tess.
He's been home a few hours now, switching between being bent over some maps on the table, marking points of interest from his last few trips past the fence, to where he is now, sat on the couch, empty glass of contraband whiskey in front of him, eyes settled firmly on you in the windowsill.
“Your staring is making me uncomfortable,” You muse, snapping the book closed, “Can’t concentrate on anything.”
“No it ain’t,” He tilts his head, shifting so he’s leaning back on the couch, legs spread with an arm absentmindedly draped across his lap, “Never made you uncomfortable before, darlin’.”
“Well it’s hard to focus on anything when you’ve got two eyes boring into you like that,” You mumble, looking him in the eye, “If you want something from me just fucking ask for it Miller.”
Your eyes don’t leave his face as you watch his eyes drop to his lap before bouncing back to meet yours – a dangerous smirk is splayed across his lips. Of course, “See, all you had to do was ask.” You murmur, slipping down from the windowsill, blanket and book abandoned.
You’re in front of him in seconds, gathering the hand splayed across his lap so you can settle yourself down, but he’s pressing his other hand to your tummy to stop you, “Why don’t you get on your knees, darlin’?”
You look down at him through lusty eyes, barefoot reaching behind you to push the coffee table further into the middle of the room to give you space before you drop to your knees like he asked. Your palms are resting on his knees through his jeans, hands running tentatively up his thighs and back down and you revel in the way you can see his cock straining through his jeans already.
“Like this?” You ask sweetly, looking up at him through your eyelashes.
“Just like that, darlin’,” He praises, shifting in his seat a little so he isn’t sat so straight, you know it’s all preparation for when he’s in your mouth, “Now, how’s about you undo my belt for me? Getting awful tight in my jeans ‘cause of you.”
Your fingers undo the belt buckle – you’ve been here so many times before that it’s just muscle memory for you at this point. It falls to the floor with a clink once you’ve tugged it through his belt loops.
“Good girl,” He croons above you, he’s gripping your chin with his fingers, tilting your head up to meet his gaze, “Now, the button, give me some relief baby.”
He doesn’t let go of your chin, keeping it still, staring into your eyes with the molten chocolate of his own, so you reach out, fumbling slightly, until your fingers find the button of his jeans, undoing it almost as quickly as you had done his belt. He doesn’t tell you to do it, but you pull down the zip and he’s lifting his hips up for you, so you take the cue and drag the denim down his legs, his underwear following, to pool at his ankles.
“See what you do to me?” He asks, tilting your chin down to look at his cock.
If there was a sight you knew you’d never get tired of, it was this. His cock so hard that in his current position it was resting up against his belly, head throbbing with so much arousal you could see the bead of pre-cum already, “Hard as a fuckin’ rock for you, pretty girl.”
You can’t help but smile at his praise, your relationship with Joel with complicated to say the least, usually only involving sex when one of you needed a release from something, but his compliments almost always made up for the lack of label on what this actually was.
“Now, why don’t you use that pretty little mouth, just how I like it, hmm?”
You know he likes it sloppy. Loves when he can hear you gagging on him. Thrives on the sight of ropes of saliva that connect your mouth to his cock when you pull away to fist him instead whilst you catch your breath. It gets him even harder in your mouth when he catches you rubbing your thighs together to relieve your own tension or when you moan with your mouth stuffed full of him.
You look him straight in the eye from between his thighs as you let spit that you’d gathered in your mouth drop from your tongue onto the head of his cock. You bring your hand to him, using feather-light touches of the tips of your fingers drag the spit down his length before your clenching your fist around the base of his length and fisting him, just how you know he likes it. You hear his sharp intake of breath as you start pumping him through your fist, you’ll tease him, even if it is only for a few minutes.
His hand comes to your cheek, it’s almost tender, you think to yourself. You don’t stop the movements of your hand but you do look up at him from your place on your knees, “Come on now darlin’, wrap your lips around my cock.”
You lean down and bring your mouth just out of reach for him, you revel in the way he bucks his hips up to you, he’s just as desperate for this as you are. You reward him by placing the softest kiss you can manage to the tip, salty bead of pre-cum pooling on your bottom lip, you make sure he’s watching you before you dart your tongue out to taste it.
“Fuckin’ hell, you’ll be the death of me.”
You want to tease him just a little more. You bring your tongue out and rest the underside of the head on it, flicking the tip of your tongue against him, the intake of breath from above you is back and you chuckle a little. You pull away and you think he’s almost about to chastise you until you’ve taken the whole tip of his cock into your mouth. Your hand is still working the base of him, whilst you bob your head up and down, teasing the head with a swirl of your tongue.
He lets out a guttural moan. It sounds like pure filth in your ears and it has you doing what you always do, shifting your thighs together to relief the friction at your core. Joel’s hand is wrapped in the hair at the back of your head – he’s just resting his fist in your locks for now, but you know within minutes he’ll be using it as leverage.
“Atta girl,” He’s groaning, “You can take it deeper though, can’t you?”
You can, and you do. You flatten your tongue in your mouth and push your head further down onto him, taking him as far into your mouth as you can before he’s touching the back of your throat. It doesn’t quite make you gag this time, but you know it’s only a matter of time as Joel’s hand fists your hair tighter, pulling you a little way off him before pushing your head back down.
“I can see you clenchin’ those thighs darlin’,” He’s breathless as he speaks, “This turn you on?" You moan around his cock in agreement, “I know it does, always so fuckin’ wet for me after, aren’t ya?” Another moan around his cock. God his voice alone makes you wet, team that up with the way he’s forcing your head down on his cock right now and you can already feel slick dripping from you.
Joel has never been good at lasting when it comes to your mouth, you look up at him and his head is thrown back, the gorgeous line of his neck on show for you as he grits his teeth, bucking his hips up to meet the downward move of your lips. This time you do gag, head of his cock hitting the back of your throat, but he loves it.
“Yes darlin’,” He spits out, “Love it when you choke on me like that.”
It’s almost as if something snaps in him. He’s holding your head still with that fist in your hair, and he’s fucking up into your mouth. You truly love it when Joel loses control like this – any sense of romance or pretense lost, just the rough need to come. He’s rough but you don’t care, tears are filling your eyes, dripping down your cheeks as he seeks his climax. He’s pulling you roughly from his cock, reveling just as you thought he would at the ropes of saliva that connect your mouth to his cock, he gently rubs the tears from your cheeks as he fists his cock.
“You want me to come all over that pretty face’a yours?” He asks.
You nod, settling back on your knees, sticking your tongue out for him as he fists his cock once, twice, three times, before he’s painting your face with his cum. He moans your name as he does, giving you every last drop. Once he’s finished and his breathing is coming back to normal, he looks down at you.
“Pretty as a picture.” He comments, running a finger through the cum on your cheeks before pushing his finger onto your tongue, watching as you suck his spend from it with the same vigor you were just sucking his cock with.
He doesn’t rise to get you a towel to wipe your face with, he just watches as you push him cum from your chin into your mouth, sticking out your tongue to show him before you swallow.
“Carry on like this darlin’ and I’ll be hard again in no time.”
“That’s kinda the point Joel,” You laugh, “I can’t quite put my finger on it but something has me begging to get fucked.”
“That so, hmmm?” You nod, “Well, why don’t you hop on up here and let me taste that pretty pussy for a while?” He’s already pulling at your wrist to switch places, “I think I might just be ready to oblige after that.”
#Pedro Pascal#Joel Miller#The Last Of Us#The Last Of us HBO#Joel Miller Smut#Joel Miller fic#Joel Miller fanfic#Joel Miller fanfiction#The Last Of Us Fic#The last Of us fanfic#the last of us fanfiction#Joel Miller x you#Joel Miller x reader#Joel Miller x female reader#Joel Miller x f!reader#Joel Miller Pedro Pascal#joel miller drabble#tlou hbo#tlou#tlou fic#thou smut
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Okay we all know this trope with Ayato and daughter of some Inazuman clan, but hear me out... Ayato and nymph from Chinju forest. He found you when he was coming from beetle fight with Itto, you were laying unconscious in this pretty, translucent dress. Of course, as a gentleman, he takes you to his manor, where you are treated properly. You can't remember who you are or what were you doing, but it's alright, he says, he will take care of you from now on 👀
WHAT GOES AROUND, COMES BACK AROUND
PAIRINGS: yandere!ayato x nymph!reader
TAGS: noncon, abuse of power, somnophilia, implied fem!chubby!reader, manipulation, creampie, breeding, shy and insecure reader, kinda lore-y?, ayato is lovesick, gaslighting, ayato is a mastermind and now you’re his
WORDS: 5.6k // crossposted on ao3 // my masterlist
NOTES: after a whole ass year, guess who’s BACK. anon, thank you so much for giving me this wonderful idea and i hope you’re still around (no mentions of itto tho, sorry ☹) as usual, college got in the way but at least i’m getting an internship this year (yay! finally getting paid lol). oddly enough, this fic was the easiest and least stressful to write despite me procrastinating it the most. i hope you enjoy a darker twist in ayato’s characterization! may you have a blessed year, readers <3
The warmth swirling in his eyes is definitely from his mother, you muse. "Thank you for not letting the history between us stop you, Sir Ayato. I know things had been rocky between nymphs and your clan ever since…" your parents passed away, but the words died on your tongue.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring that up."
He chuckles, surprising you. "I’m just doing my job as the Yashiro Commissioner.” He scans over your body one last time. You shiver from his gaze. “I look forward to seeing you in a healthier state.”
His scent lingers even after he leaves.
Bathing in Chinju Forest alone at night wasn't the most excellent idea.
You curse as you look around, surrounded by clear waters and tall trees. The night flowers glow a faint blue, enough for you to see a path towards the nearby Torri gate. On the side, your sister’s potion cabin is empty. From here, you can still smell a whiff of whatever Danalise was brewing hours ago before she left.
After receiving news that there are members of the Shuumatsuban waiting for them by the nymph’s dwellings, your sisters have long left before sunset, leaving you alone to bask in the peaceful forest. By this time, they must be discussing affairs with your eldest sister, Danalise, the nymph’s village chief.
As the outcast, your presence isn’t needed. It's not like your sisters ever trusted you to handle political matters or tried to include you in civic discussions, anyway. It was enough for them that you stay out of their way and let smarter and more capable people take the reins. You weren’t talented as Adasia; that birds hum along when you sing. Or Phia, whose paintings and sculptures rival those in real life. Or as smart as your favorite sister Danalise, who’s made countless nymph medicines and healed dozens of the remaining few.
But you didn’t have to be this careless.
You relax when you see your nightgown still perched by the river’s rocks. There have been multiple accounts of perverts-- ordinary men, samurais, and nobility alike-- stealing your sisters’ garments while they bathe, putting you in unease. This wasn’t your first time bathing alone, but it was your first time accidentally staying until night.
Touching the amethyst pendant of your necklace, you silently thank the Archon that no one has attempted to do such a thing. You slip your clothes on.
Well… it’s further proof that even your beauty paled compared to your sisters.
You shake your head. You chose to be alone in the first place to erase negative thoughts that have been brewing for the past week, and it frustrates you how easily it returns.
No more than five steps into the forest, a small vial silently rolls.
It was too late when you hear the glass crack beneath your hard slippers.
You retch. Losing control of your body, you double over and cough violently.
Your body falls on a nearby tree. "Someone– please– help!" You're scared and confused and alone, senses overwhelmed by the foul scent.
Your head spins. The world turns dark, and the last thing you see is pale blue hair and purple eyes.
"--ord, she's awake!" A voice calls out, and your head pounds.
Everything feels too soft.
Where were your sisters?
Footsteps arrive near you. "Good. Ayaka worries too much, and she wasn't even the one who found this cute nymph passed out on the forest floor."
Ayaka? Lady Kamisato Ayaka?
You open your eyes and see Kamisato Ayato.
On his side is Thoma. Even though you’re not close, his familiar face brings you comfort. You’ve seen him talking with your sisters every once in a while.
You sigh in relief, before tensing up again. You were inside the residence of the Yashiro Commissioner himself!
The man beside you raises his gloved hand to touch your forehead. "How are you feeling– oh!"
You squeak and block him away. "Sorry, sorry! Sorry, Lord… Sir… Ayato." You turn red. So much for good impressions. What if your sisters find out that you embarrassed yourself in front of him? "I'm really confused. Where am I?" You cringe internally. In the Kamisato Estate, of course!
He pays no mind, a shimmer of amusement in his eyes. He dismisses Thoma.
"In the Kamisato Estate, inside one of our guest rooms. You were out for a whole day," The shoji on the side of the room is open, letting in pleasant sunlight that warmed your skin. Inside your kimono is your nightgown from yesterday. Your necklace is still intact.
"I found you unconscious by the river when I was passing by Chinju Forest,” His brows furrow with concern, and you flush. You’ve heard rumors of his cold beauty, but nothing compares to seeing him up close. "I had to take you here to be treated immediately. Worry not, I already sent men to inform your sisters of your situation."
You bow, now feeling the ache of your sore body. "Thank you so much, my lord."
He shakes his head. "You need to be careful next time. Nymph or not, bathing alone in public places is dangerous."
It doesn’t help that the nymph's reputation has weakened over the past decades. We’re no longer the powerful creatures that we used to be. Your eyes remain on the pristine white sheets. “But I don’t blame you. The potion used on you was quite…”
"The potion?”
“The thing that knocked you out, (Y/N). Do you not remember?” Lord Kamisato reaches into his suit pocket and brings out what looks like a small perfume bottle, no bigger than three inches, decorated with intricate hearts on the front. "The bottle design suggests that whoever created this is from a foreign land. Sumerian, even. But I cannot be sure unless we get a hand on another sample of the liquid itself."
Your eyes widen. “You plan to catch whoever caused my… unconsciousness, my Lord?”
“Not just plan. I will catch them, (Y/N). I cannot let this happen again, and the fact that it did shows that I lacked vigilance in protecting my people.” You think it was too much effort for one simple case, but you suppress the urge to refute him and dare not interrupt. You can only be grateful for his initiative.
He puts the small bottle back in his pocket. “With that being said, I require you to stay in the Estate for a week to ensure your recovery and monitor you should there be any long-term effects.”
You freeze and the man gives you an apologetic smile. “It’s protocol, and for the best interests of all people in the community. I hope you understand, (Y/N).”
“O-Of course, my lord! I’m thankful for all of your efforts, and I’ll help your investigation as much as possible.” He smiles genuinely this time at your eagerness.
The warmth swirling in his eyes is definitely from his mother, you muse. "Thank you for not letting the history between us stop you, Sir Ayato. I know things had been rocky between nymphs and your clan ever since…" your parents passed away, but the words died on your tongue.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring that up."
He chuckles, surprising you. "I’m just doing my job as the Yashiro Commissioner, (Y/N).” He scans over your body one last time. You shiver. “I look forward to seeing you in a healthier state.”
His scent lingers even after he leaves.
Nobody arrived to pick you up one week later.
It is common knowledge to Inazumans that the nymphs from Chinju Forest have been under the Kamisatos protection since the dawn of time, as their ancestors helped each other to grow and survive through different eras. The nymphs gather resources from the forest that helped the Kamisatos grow in their administrative standing, and in exchange, the nymphs and their village are protected from invaders and political monopoly while letting them live a peaceful life. When the time came that the Kamisatos became one of the most powerful clans in the country, they never stopped supporting the nymph’s village.
It was inevitable that one of your sisters fell in love with a clan member. Whoever she was, she had long passed or had gone missing—and even your sisters who have lived longer than you refuse to talk about her.
Rumors say that the Kamisato patriarch was poisoned because a nymph had wanted his love, but he only loved his wife. And so follows the tragedy of losing both Kamisato heads that forced their children, Ayato and Ayaka, to take over their responsibilities and grow up too fast.
Hence your sisters’ fear of the Kamisatos. They have been nothing but kind during diplomatic talks, but you can’t blame them for being wary: the case was never solved, after all. When Danalise interrogated every sister to tears (including you, at such a young age) the night that the Kamisato patriarch’s death had spread around Inazuma, no one admitted anything.
As a safety net, everyone kept their distance: weekly meetings in the nymph’s village became monthly, your sisters avoided collecting food near the Estate, and the staff weren’t as friendly to them anymore.
No one from the Kamisato Estate questioned this change. The seed of distrust had already taken its root.
However, living with them proved you wrong.
Upon Lord Ayato’s absence because of the investigation, Lady Ayaka and Thoma frequently checked up on you. You couldn’t refuse when they first invited you to dinner since Thoma told you that Ayaka was often lonely, and it was rare for her to hang out and let loose with someone else. The staff had been accommodating during your stay, even going far to prevent you from doing simple chores.
You felt like a freeloader. When you insisted that you needed physical activity to speed up your recovery, the servants shook their heads politely. ‘The Commissioner’s order,’ they said.
When Ayato finally arrived home, you greeted him with utmost respect. He laughed and patted your head. “No need for the formalities, my dear. Or else I shall feel bashful that a beauty like you insist on calling me ‘sir’ or ‘my lord’.”
You can still hear his pleasant laughter in the hallways after you bolt to your room. Your scream is muffled on your pillow.
Curse your stupid crush on him.
An hour later, one of the servants knocked. “Lady (Y/N), Lord Ayato has called for you in his quarters.”
Against your will, you find yourself in front of his door. You knock twice. “Sir Ayato?”
Ayato opens the door, still wearing his travel clothes. “Come inside, (Y/N).”
As easy as breathing, you immediately recognize the woman behind him. “Dana!”
You waste no time and tackle her in a hug.
Your sister sighs and pries your arms away. "How have you been doing? Not being a burden to the Commissioner, I hope?" She’s clad in her formal garments, but something weighs down her usually confident stance.
The indifference in her eyes and cold words hurt you. You take a step back and wrap your arms around yourself.
You expected Dana to miss you as much as you did, since she was the only one who paid attention to you and cared for your well-being.
Nevertheless, her presence brought a smile to your face. It felt like home was near.
You shake your head. "No! I’ve been trying to help around the house, I promise!”
Silence encompasses the three of you. Outside, the busy staff continue working around the estate. Some are tasked to prepare a child’s room.
You bounce on your feet, oblivious to the tense atmosphere. “Sister, are we going to go home?”
"(Y/N)..." Ayato clears his throat. You look at him expectantly. "Upon consulting multiple Inazuman scholars, the potion you inhaled was reported to be a… potency potion for nymphs,” He stops, gauging your reaction.
Only the rapid beating of your heart betrays your calm façade. “What… what do you mean by that, my lord?” You ask, voice steady. You don’t want to know. You’ve had enough of potions and investigation. You just want to go home.
He briefly glances at Dana, silently asking for permission to proceed. Your sister, ever so helpful, refuses to look at both of you. Her glossy black hair covers her face as she looks down.
(Unbeknownst to you, she was seething with anger. Your sister cannot find the courage to look at you.)
Her unusual behavior puts you more on edge, like seconds before tittering off a cliff. “L-Lord Ayato,” Your voice breaks. “Please continue what you were saying.”
He takes a deep breath. “The strange potion puts you to sleep and makes your body more reactive to… stimulation. It’s highly likely that you’ve fallen victim to a person’s sinful desires.”
The whole world stops, and the room expands.
Like that night in the forest, you feel scared, confused, and alone.
You whisper. “I don’t understand.” But you do.
“It’s an aphrodisiac laced with a sleeping drug!” Dana yells, voice shrill. You visibly recoil, feeling her anger come off in waves. “It means that some scum has been planning to violate you.”
“What? I don’t…” The soreness between your thighs. Faint bruises on your wrists. A fading hickey on your neck near the back of it, one that you just noticed last night. Dana does nothing to comfort you, only glaring daggers at your shaking form. Tears well up in your eyes.
Your sister prances around the room, her heavy steps pounding your head. “I told you to go home before sundown! Why didn’t you listen to me?"
“Now, it’s highly improper to blame her,” Ayato interjects. Dana glares at him and clenches her fist.
He moves in front of you and grasps your hands. "I don’t want to delay the investigation further. We decided you can't return to our village until we catch who did this. The situation has worsened now that we know the culprit’s intentions."
"But how long would that take!" You shout.
(You miss the split second of anger in his eyes.)
You plead. "I just want to go home, Dana, please. I didn’t mean for all of this to happen."
"You might endanger your sisters, (Y/N)! We are not leading a criminal inside our home just because of your selfishness," Her words felt like death sentence. The last time you saw your sister with a hopeless look in her eyes was after she failed to catch the culprit of the Kamisato patriarch’s death.
Your soft sobs pierce the silence. "I’ll… come back for you when the time comes."
(Ayato’s hand delicately trails on the back of your neck to soothe you.)
Dana’s eyes widen, and she looks away. You don’t hear her whisper, ‘this is for the greater good.’
You’re inconsolable when the door slams and she leaves. Ayato wraps you in his arms. You don’t care if your tears soak his perfectly-ironed coat.
You spend the rest of the day in his quarters, sitting beside him while he does paperwork. He gives you a glance every once in a while, a hand rubbing circles on your back when he notices you trying to stifle your cries. Your face glows a faint red, not because of your sadness but because of his intimate actions.
He’s too close. It’s all inappropriate. You tell yourself that Lord Kamisato is just being kind.
But he’s there when you needed comfort and safety the most.
That night, you fiddle with your necklace. You vaguely remember your sisters giving this to you on your birthday.
Betrayal burns through you. You want to break it from your neck.
(You don’t.
Instead of your past, the amethyst pendant starts to remind you of the Commissioner’s eyes.)
You lose track of time. A week with no news from Dana or any of your sisters felt like agonizing years.
You’ve become restless. Every day, you ask where Ayato is.
“He’s working hard to investigate your case, Lady (Y/N).” The staff says. Their eyes that once filled with joy upon seeing you are now laced with concern and pity. “We do not know when he’ll be back.”
Being the black sheep of the nymph village is something that you accepted long ago. Still, you thought that Danalise would still fight to take you back because you trusted her as your eldest sister and your leader.
You hate that she abandoned you. You also hate that you still longed for your sisters’ presence more than anything else.
Your footsteps patter on the freshly-cleaned wooden floor. "Sir Junichi, do you know where my necklace is? It’s been missing since last night."
“Good morning, (Y/N)." The old man sneezes. On his hand is a wedding dress, elegant but dusty. The colors are vibrant and the fabric has no frays despite the old and traditional style.
You remember one of the portraits hung by the dining room where the Kamisato siblings' mother wear the exact same dress. Why is he holding that?
"I’m not sure, but I think I saw one in Lord Kamisato's office."
A faint blush appears on your cheeks when you remember the day you spent with him. "Thank you."
There was no one inside Ayato’s room, despite him being home. On the table, the rare sight of his organized documents greeted you. Several letters and a freshly inked fountain pen rest by the windows. Souvenirs from Lady Ayaka are displayed on the shelves, all with no dust. A picture of him, Thoma, Taromaru, and Lady Ayaka together in a festival is delicately pinned on the corner of the makeshift bulletin board. The sight warms your heart.
Carefully looking around, your necklace glints whilst hung on the high cabinets. You tiptoe and pull. It barely budges. You reach out and swiftly grab the necklace that the cabinet doors open.
Dozens of empty bottles roll out and you shield yourself from the fall.
A familiar rotten smell invades your scent. Your heart sinks to your stomach.
You jump on your feet and run before colliding with a body. "(Y/N)? What are you doing here–"
"Thoma!" You shout as your voice shakes in fear. "He's lying! He violated me!"
"What– who violated you? Please, breathe and calm down."
"Ayato-- Lord Kamisato–" You gasp out, realizing that Thoma is Ayato’s closest friend. "There was no one else in that forest, just him, I saw him– and he said I was violated before he arrived, and that doesn't make sense because he was there before I blacked out! Thoma, please, I know I sound crazy, you have to believe me," You tremble.
In the midst of your frantic words, Thoma appears confused. "You're saying that… it was Lord Ayato who had violated you?" He whispers carefully, hesitant with his words. You nod urgently.
Your thoughts were racing, but you knew one thing: you must get out of this place now. Thoma have always been kind, patient, and understanding, so he will believe you–
"--don't think Thoma believes a word, don't you? Leave us, Thoma."
The housekeeper pulls away from your embrace, curtsied 'm'lord' before exiting and shutting the kanban behind him.
You freeze. You should have known where his loyalties lie.
Behind you, you hear Ayato pick up one bottle. "I'm sorry you had to find out this way, (Y/N)."
You grit your teeth. “Find out what.”
“Playing dumb now that I’ve arrived?” He laughs. It sounded melodious when you first heard it; now it twisted your guts. “Not the smartest move, (Y/N).”
“I want to hear you say it. Answer me, Ayato!"
You whimper as your chin is roughly grabbed from behind, forcing you to face him. “I get that you’re upset, but I don’t appreciate the disrespect, princess. Now, let’s start.” He clasps his hand around your arm firmly. “Took you roughly two weeks to find out. Guess there's no denying that now, huh?"
"Please spare me your explanations, Lord Kamisato," You cried out, hurt and betrayal in your eyes. "I'll make sure that everyone in this Estate knows how much of a degenerate you are–let go of me!"
“The Estate," He whispers, voice a low rumble in your ear. "Is mine. Thoma continued his duties per usual after walking out. Ayaka is happy I finally found a fitting partner to continue our bloodline. My servants always kept an eye on you whenever I was gone. I watched your every move, darling."
"Your pathetic attempts to escape will be halted, and you'll end up in your room again. Worse, on mine," You pulled around and trashed, screaming and shouting and fighting before a bottle was opened, and you inhaled that scent again. "Breathe, my love.”
When you wake, your body was already in the throes of passion.
"Feeling good, love?" Ayato sighs, lost in the pleasure. He thrusts slowly inside you. "Look at us, spending the night in each other's arms like that day in the forest."
He leers at your panicked form, seeing your eyes go wide. He’s naked, and in the corner of your eye, you see his clothes discarded haphazardly in a pile mixed with yours. "Nymphs are easily swayed, aren't they? It only took a few threats to convince them to give you to me. They didn't even want money. They immediately agreed to leave you defenseless so I could finally make a move after all these years.”
You freeze and shut your eyes in response. He tuts and squeezes your neck, so you open your eyes again in fear. "Listen closely, (Y/N). You want to know the truth, right?”
“See your sister’s little cabin right there?” You squeal as Ayato grips your waist and sets you on his lap as if you weigh nothing. “That’s where she does her little experiments, no? Did she tell you what she was brewing that day they left you on the river?” You whimper in response, dreading whatever he will say next. You don’t want to believe it.
Ayato laughs, his hot breath ghosting your neck. You shiver in response. “That’s right. The aphrodisiac I’ve been pretending to ‘investigate’. I guess I still have to thank her.”
He embraces you closer, a hand snaking to cup your tits. You try to slap his hand away, but he grasps your wrists with his other hand. "Ah ah. You need to behave if you want me to tell you the whole story.”
“I have no use for your stupid stories,” You spat.
“Really now? Don’t you want to know what happened to your sister who wanted to seduce my father?”
You have no answer. All your life, you’ve always wondered if someone out there knew the truth.
He speaks before you say your answer. “Little one… no one poisoned my father.”
You stop. “What?”
Ayato hums. “It was an accident; he explored the woods one night and accidentally ventured too deep until he was lost, tired, and hungry. Fortunately, he saw a cabin. Your sister’s cabin. Unfortunately, your sister stupidly stored her toxic potions near the entrance door. With no light, he accidentally knocked down one strong enough to kill him. One small bottle was enough to take his life," He whispers. "It’s been ten years since then. Nobody knew but me… until I decided it was time for your clan to face the repercussions."
“That hag Danalise begged; you know. She asked that I spare the rest of you from punishment and take her instead. But I wanted nothing to do with that stupid wench.” He suddenly bites down your neck, and you yelp. He then caresses the hickey with his tongue to soothe the area. “But you, my dear (Y/N)…” He growls. “I wanted everything to do with you.”
You don’t want to believe it. Under the night sky, wetness dripped from your pussy to his thighs, reminding you that his thickness had been inside you twice without you knowing. This bewitching, powerful man is utterly, completely obsessed with you.
"So I became the sacrificial lamb?" You hiccupped. “Jokes on you, I’m the worst one. Any of my sisters could’ve been a better pick.” You press on. There’s nothing to lose anymore. Everyone you knew betrayed you.
"There’s that sad look on your face again." He gently takes your chin to face him. A look of adoration crosses his eyes and you look away, feeling vulnerable. “I picked you, (Y/N). Not any of them. You.”
"After my father's death, I was angry. I loathed your family. I instructed my people to watch out for you nymphs, especially those who dare go near our territory," He whispers, and you reel back. "Imagine my surprise when my people told me there was one naive enough to bathe alone in the forest. I had to go and see you for myself. Then I saw you… your body, naked as the night… your curves glistening in the moonlight."
“My decision was made from then on.” You don’t resist when his hand drops down to your pussy and starts to rub your folds. Your aching core is overstimulated and sensitive at the same time. “An eye for an eye. You shall be my wife, and I will do anything I can to ensure you’ll be mine.”
His hand stroking you, rubbing you in places that no one ever had, has your mind reeling from pleasure. In your calmer state, you’ve become less resistant to his touches, and your body starts to ache for more. Your face flushes at the sound of the slick between your thighs.
You hate him, you hate him, you hate him.
He grinds his palm to your aching clit, and you moan. “Ah—my lord!”
Ayato smirks and lets out a small laugh. “That’s a good girl. Feels good, doesn’t it?” He whispers, nibbling the shell of your ear. “I told you I won’t hurt you, sweetheart. Here, lie on the grass," He carefully puts you down on the cool land and spreads your legs.
You fluster at his ravenous gaze, staring intently at your dripping pussy. Laying bare in front of a man for the first time—your captor, no less—awakens something primal inside you. “Gods, look at you. Your pussy is pretty just like the rest of you. Couldn’t stop thinking about this every day for the past month since I first laid my eyes on it.”
Ayato presses his face flush against the inside of your thighs, face dangerously close to your core. You mewl– both in pleasure and shame of him seeing your intimate part up close. "Am I the first man to taste you, my love?"
When you refuse to look at him to answer, he chuckles lightheartedly, underneath, full of lust. "I would've known if you had lain with another, sweetheart. Anyone who attempted would’ve been executed and disappeared." You feel his arm tighten the grip around your waist, possessive and dominating. "Nymphs are famous for their sweet ambrosia, am I right?"
Ayato dived in and licked a strip of your core.
Your hands tighten on his pale blue tresses, unconsciously pulling him closer. "My lord, please stop! I don't want this– oh!"
"You taste exquisite, my darling," He growls. The man feels his chest emitting a growl, beastly and unlike anything he's felt before. "I could eat you up all night and never get tired. You’re the best meal I've ever had."
And he does, slurping and licking for what seems like forever while you moan and keel to his tongue. You're lost in the pleasure, unintendedly singing such beautiful high-pitched noises that sent arousal to his groin. His cock is painfully hard, and he wants to break you. He grips your thighs stronger and circles his tongue on your clit.
You feel a tightening coil inside your stomach. You pant. "My lord, please, I don't know what's happening,"
"Let go. Come," He says, and everything around you explodes in white-hot pleasure.
You were too dazed and disoriented to realize that you passed out for a few seconds because the next thing you know, you woke up to Ayato pressing soft kisses on your shoulders. "Stay awake, my love. We're not yet done."
Too exhausted to protest, your whole body relaxes. Ayato sighs and kisses your hair, fingers trailing down your strands.
He's proud of the mess he made you.
He cups your breasts and you gasp, body succumbing to his touch. You think it's dangerous that you slowly become familiar and yearn for his touch, but it's not so bad either.
With every touch, you feel appreciated and worthy of attention.
Above all, you feel loved.
You look at him again, naked and skin glistening in the moonlight. His pale blue hair is loose, draping around his shoulder like shiny ribbons.
He's as handsome as the day you first saw him in the Estate.
"Oh?" Ayato teases. "You're the beautiful one here, sweetheart. I am merely your worshipper tonight."
He positions your thighs, opening them once again. You whine when he strokes your tender folds. Between your legs and his is his cock, huge and throbbing with dripping beads of precum. He takes your hand and lets you grip it gently. "You feel that, baby? This is only for you."
It twitches on your hand. You tug it, and he moans.
"It’s—it’s big," He kisses your burning cheeks. "Darling, don’t worry. I would never hurt you. Come, put your arms around me," He places your languid arms around him. Your hold on him is tense. "It's okay, baby. You can scratch me if it's painful; I won't get mad." Your lips melt into his again; your breaths become fogs mingling. "Ready?"
He puts the tip in, and you feel stinging the stretch of his cock that you arch your back and shudder. Your nails leave marks on his back. Ayato hisses. "Archons, you're so tight… Princess, are you okay?"
"Y-Yes," You mutter. "I think so. A-ah… you're so big, my lord."
Pride swells in his chest. "You made it that way. Tell me when you've adjusted, okay? I'm not going to move unless you tell me to," His eyes brimmed with fondness and affection that it made your heart skip a beat. A glimpse of what Ayato truly felt for you; aside from his sick obsession, he was a man who truly adored you and is willing to serve all your desires. "Stay still, doll. Don't worry about me. Try to relax."
After a few moments of shifting, you’ve become accustomed to his size. He fits perfectly. "I-I'm okay. Please… take me."
Ayato goes in deep, fully sheaths himself inside you, and he feels as if everything he’s ever experienced was made for this moment. "Gods, thank you so much for allowing me to do this, sweet girl. I love you so much. Always have."
And so he lost himself between you, the stars, and the mysteries of Chinju forest. He thinks about when he first saw you and swore to himself that you would be by his side and how this was finally the culmination of his dream. He thrusts wild as if memorizing the spots with the most of your pleasure and ram himself like a man driven mad by passion and lust.
"Ah, I should take you back to the Estate after this, no?" Ayato grunts when he feels you tighten around his length. Your spongy walls feel like paradise. "Make you my wife. It won't be easy, but I could clear your name, and your sisters will live peacefully," He reaches out to toy with your breasts, letting them mold on his hand. "I'll give you the best life I have to offer, (Y/N). You'll be mine, and I'll be yours. Just say yes."
He continues, murmuring ramblings that you don't even understand because of the rapture you're in. You feel the coil building up again, and Ayato does too, as he fucks into you faster and almost losing his grip. "Please, let's cum together. Be with me, sweetheart."
Both of you slowly lose yourselves and– "Ah!"
The two of you explode in pleasure, and only the forest hears your loving cries. Your fine nails break his porcelain skin, leaving a trail of red behind. Ayato holds you closer, molding perfectly into each other as you both chase your highs under the night sky. He kisses you again, and you return his efforts this time, finding that his lips are far softer and less suffocating when he’s gentle. You think feel a stray tear from his eyes escape. “Lord Ayato… please take me home.”
"Ah, I love you so much," He whispers. He looks at your afterglow, all dopey and tranquil. He thinks about the necklace you left in the Estate. He’ll give you much, much more. "I'll make a future with you."
#navi's writings#naviavu#yandere genshin impact#yandere ayato#yandere kamisato ayato#yandere x you#genshin smut#genshin impact imagines#genshin impact smut#ayato smut#yandere smut#genshin ayato smut#yandere genshin
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ℍ𝕦𝕘𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕘 ℍ𝕖𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥
genre: comfort - drabble
pairing: Viktor x Reader
wc: >1k
a/n: Fun fact about this fic: this is based on something my ex said to me, and I've never been the same since. Also, the pleasant smell of old books is called bibliosmia.
The door creaks as you poke your head into the laboratory, sighing in relief as you see only Viktor standing in the room with a book in hand. You walk in and shut the door behind you before making a beeline for the lean man. He turns around and glances up, eyebrows raised as he was not expecting you to be the one that walked through the door. "Y/N, what brings you he-"
Before he can finish his sentence, you're standing in front of him with your face buried in his chest. Viktor looks down at you, his brows furrowed in confusion and worry. Slowly setting down his book and steadying himself against you to put his cane to the side, he wraps his arms around you. "What's wrong, my love?" You remain silent for a moment, simply wanting to take in Viktor's presence and forget about your day. Taking a deep breath in, your senses are flooded with his scent. It's always a pleasant mixture of coffee and old books, like a library with its own café. And not a Starbucks or some other big brand. An authentic café you can only find at this library.
Your arms float up and slowly wrap themselves around his waist. "Hey." Your voice comes out softer than you expected it to. "Hey. Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not right now. I just want a hug." Viktor nods and holds you closer, his hand rubbing circles on your lower back. You close your eyes, humming at the feeling and melt into him. You adjusted yourself so your head was resting comfortably against his shoulder. A comfortable silence forms in the air as the minutes go by, only the sound of soft breathing from both of you is heard. Neither of you two move, perfectly content being in each other's arms.
Inhaling deeply once more, you slowly pull away from Viktor. But not all the way. You still wanted to feel him close. Your hands move up around his neck as his hands slide back and rest on your waist. When you look up at him, you're met with his gaze already staring down at you. "You know, you are the perfect hugging height."
You blink, not expecting that sentence to be what finally broke the silence. "Really?" He nods. "Mhmm. Your head rests nicely against my shoulder and my arms are long enough to hold you right. I am able to keep my balance with you without my cane. And you are just tall enough for me to do this." Viktor lowers his head just enough to give you a gentle peck on the forehead. You hum. "Yeah, but still too short to properly do this." You push yourself up to your tippy toes and pull him into a kiss that he glady returns. He leans back and smiles at you, an action you happily mirror. "Thank you Vik. I really don't know what I would do without you."
"And the same goes to you. You are my muse, you know?" Your gaze softens as your heart swells with love. How did you get so lucky? "I know." After another moment of pure sugar fluff, you help Viktor with whatever it was he was working on before you came in. You already forgot why you were so upset to begin with.
#allora✿works#viktor#viktor arcane#viktor x reader#viktor x you#viktor x y/n#viktor drabble#drabble#arcane drabble#arcane#arcane x reader#arcane x you#arcane x y/n#x reader#x you#x y/n#viktor arcane x reader#viktor arcane x you#viktor arcane x y/n
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Skimming off the top
"Relax, I'm not about to chop your head off," the villain mused, rounding their desk to instead lean back against it. They eyed the henchmen in the chair before them, "But I know you've been skimming money off the top. Don't dig yourself a deeper hole by denying it. Just tell me why,"
Despite the villain's calm demeanour and even reassurance, henchman was undoubtedly shaking. He knew this had been a bad idea. He was about to pay for it.
"I... I needed the money-"
"For *what*?" The villain pressed.
"My... my wife she-"
"Diana? Is she alright?"
Henchman was shocked his boss even remembered her name, but he forced himself to press on, "no, or- yes- well, kind of? She uh, she's pregnant,"
"That's amazing news," the villain replied. They sounded genuinely happy, "Are you worried about not having enough to properly start a family? You could have spoken to me about a raise,"
"No no! It's, well, there have been some complications in her pregnancy. The pressure ruptured her appendix-"
"My god, is she okay!?" Villain gasped in horror.
"Yes! Yes she and the baby are fine, but the surgery was expensive so I'd been skimming to try and pay it off,"
Villain sighed, "why didn't you just tell me in the first place?" They asked. They seemed genuinely confused.
"I- what?" Henchman stammered.
The villain rounded the desk again, sitting back down on their chair, "how much more do you need to pay it off? My calculations tell me you've skimmed about $2000 already, correct?"
"I- yes, sir. I still need $6000," he replied. What was happening here?
Suddenly villain pulled out a chequebook, "Don't get me wrong, you're still in trouble for skimming behind my back. I'm no tyrant, if you need money desperately like this, just come to me next time. We are grown-ups; we can work something out. For now, we can take it off your paychecks until it's been repaid, once this has been settled," villain explained, before standing back up and handing over a check signed for $6000. "Let me know if you need any more, okay?"
Henchman was stunned, "I- I- yes- yes sir- I- thank you-"
"You're welcome," the villain nodded, "That being said. I don't want to see you skimming again. Got it?"
"Absolutely sir, it will never happen again,"
"Good," Villain nodded, sitting back down into their large office chair, "now go home,"
The henchman's eyes widened, "but I thought I wasn't getting fired!"
"You're not," villain smiled, "but your pregnant wife just had surgery. You're on mandatory leave until her doctor clears her health, got it?"
The worker's eyes widened even more, "I- yes, yes sir. Thank you so much,"
The villain nodded, looking down at their desk again, scribbling something else on a different paper. After a moment, they glanced up to see the henchman hadn't moved. They raised an eyebrow as if to say "why are you still here?"
It was because the worker felt like he couldn't leave. He had expected such punishment, but this was...
He forced his legs to stand and walked out, heading straight home. His wife would be thrilled.
#writing#NOT A PR0MPT#Hero x villain#villain x hero#Heros and villains#heroes and villains#hero x villain snippet#hero#villain#hero x villain drabble#hero x villain snippets#snippet#ficlet#short story#snippets#my writing#my work#creative writing#Crewes writing#writers on tumblr#writblr#drabble#story#writer#writers of tumblr#stories#Crewe#villain x henchman#sympathetic villain#kind villain
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DAY 13 - «On Thin Ice» Good Omens AU - Triptych Tribute for @blairamok
Part 1/3: "Falling Angel" Aziraphale
Please, listen to this
Change everything you are
And everything you were
Your number has been called
Fights and battles have begun
Revenge will surely come
Your hard times are ahead
Don't let yourself down
Don't let yourself go
Your last chance has arrived
Best, you've got to be the best
You've got to change the world
And use this chance to be heard
Your time is now
Falling Angel, your time is now!
(yes I know this Muse song has another sense in the On Thin Ice universe - for Crowley. Well, our Fallen Serpent will show us what IS a true Survival, tomorrow. ;-)
[Previous] [Next Day] [First Day]
Don't forget to 💕/ reblog ;-)
Personal challenge: a simple sketch each day
Goal: forcing me to keep things simple - inking, shading, just a few sashes of colour
Improvement pursued: to get the movement, the emotion, finding how to add depth, learning how to leave things barely finished
Max time allowed: 2 hours, as usual for my Daily Challenges. Well, this is a very special Tribute for me, and I was on a three-days break. So I didn’t really set a timer for the « On Thin Ice » sketches. Plus, I drew them quite in the same time and on the same file to be sure Crowley and Aziraphale would match. I guess I spent more or less 3 hours on the lineart for each one of them (the clothes and the figures needed a lot of time), plus 1h30-2h on the colouring/shading for each one.
Be aware that in my first sketches for this project, Crowley and Aziraphale were supposed to train on the same ice rink, and I dearly wanted Crowley to be watching Aziraphale, and Aziraphale was supposed to glance back to him. I had to give up on this idea later – because the figure I chose for Aziraphale definitely couldn’t allow such a shared glance. (but, hello, it will be a triptyque ! So, guess what? About the third part… :-p)
About Aziraphale, as my « Falling Angel ».
« On Thin Ice » author, @blairamok, describes the Hydroplane ice skating figure as very representative of Aziraphale, and the drawing reference pictures were numerous enough to get some solid inspiration. It’s a complex skating figure. I have watched some ice skating tutorials on YouTube – because I wanted the movement of the clothes and hair to be accurate and, if I understand everything properly, even a slight alteration in the position of the arms can make you fall. Such perfection ! That IS the right move for Aziraphale !
I told sooner on my Gymnast !AU challenge that I appreciated drawing Aziraphale with realistic curves more and more each day – even if it still triggers me sometimes about my own shaming roundnesses. I realised my way of doing art – and my mind too, maybe - was evolving when I got back to check references in the amazing Blair artworks (link AO3). A few months ago, I felt insecure watching Blair’s Aziraphale, which seemed to me too much plump and very soft – not a « good sportive look », I thought then. But now I like him more and more, so maybe my way of thinking is changing, and I think this is for the very best.
My Aziraphale is performing a difficult figure, so he is using all his muscles into maintaining his balance. He seems so statuesque, so powerful, yet very focused and oblivious to the world around him, with his eyes shut. That is why he couldn’t share a glance with my Crowley. T.T
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Maybe this is my way to guess Aziraphale’s behavior in the so-awaited « On Thin Ice » next chapters. Focused on his own training, trying to ignore Crowley’s sassyness but still secretly impressed by his partner’s skills. Because they share the same love for Ice Skating, even if they don’t show it in the same way.
Blair, if you ever read this, thank you. For your artworks, for making us dream about a wonderful story that still remains to be told.
Thank you for « On Thin Ice », for your so-kind message last week, and for everything else.
I have faith. I’ll wait for your story. But even if it doesn’t exist yet, I am already dreaming about it, and this is priceless.
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#on thin ice#blairamok#I am so happy about it!#good omens#good omens fanart#Aziraphale#Crowley#aziracrow#art#my art#ineffable husbands#David tennant#Michael Sheen#ElenPersonnalChallenge#ElenthyaAndGoodOmens#Ineffable Feathers#good omens au#Ineffable lovers#Ineffable Ice Skaters#ElenthyaGallery
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