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sunniskyies · 3 months

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𝐁𝐮𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 || 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: - 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Your boyfriend Percy has been at camp all summer, and you’re anxious that he’s moved on since you last saw him 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: book!Percy Jackson x fem!reader 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: - 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Fluff with a dash of pining and a sprinkle of fluff !! 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1k 𝐀/𝐍: Take a wild guess who the woman is (>ᴗ•) ♡

You're picking at your fingers again, a nervous habit Percy always scolds you for. Your hoodie —his hoodie— is soaked through with rain, the weather turned bad now the summer is over.

You've been sitting at the bus stop for hours now, and resorted to pacing to calm your anxious thoughts. It's late now, 9 pm on a Friday. The only other person here is a beautiful woman who has failed to board a single bus in the hour she's been sitting there.

You're on your 467th lap of the ground between two pavement tiles when the woman speaks up.

"What ails you, my darling?" She asks from her perch beneath the narrow lip of the bus stop.

You glance over, hesitant for a second. Is this one of the monsters Percy has talked about? She definitely seems suspicious.

"I'm just nervous to see someone I haven't seen in a while," you say cautiously. The woman delicately raises an eyebrow.

"A boy," you clarify. "My boyfriend."

A smile lights up the woman's face, revealing perfect teeth from behind her soft pink lips. "That's what I thought!" She says, adjusting her floral dress over her knees when a single drop of water hits her ivory skin. She grimaces.

"Please sit in the dry, sweetie. I'll comb out your hair while you tell me everything."

You hesitate again, not wanting Percy's first job after camp to be saving you from a monster. But something in the woman's eyes calls to be trusted. And besides, your hair is a damp, scraggly mess. Do you really want Percy to see you like this?

Of course the gorgeous woman has a literal gold comb in the Prada bag she's stashed beneath the bench, and begins running the fine teeth through your hair when you sit down beside her.

"So? Why are you so troubled?" She prompts after a beat.

You sigh, shifting on the seat. "Well, he's been away all summer at— er, a camp. And, well, I dunno. I guess I'm just worried he's moved on from me," you mumble.

You glance over your shoulder as if seeking approval from the pretty woman. But instead of seeing the blonde ringletted, pale-skinned lady who sat there before, a stunning tan woman (who can only be described as a supermodel) has replaced her.

"Wait— Did you— Weren't you..?" You stammer, eyes wide. The woman just smiles, gently shushing you.

"No, dear. It's just the lighting," she replies.

You want to argue, jump up and run away. But something about her fingers on your hair soothes you like a mother does a baby. You find yourself relaxing, all worries erased.

"So why would he move on from you? You seem very lovely to me, dear. And so pretty," she continues.

You sigh again. "Well, there's this girl. She's gorgeous, I've seen Polaroids." You think back to the scrapbook Percy had shown you last year, a beautiful girl named Annabeth with blonde curls and sun-kissed skin.

"They're like, best friends," you deflate. "And he's really talented, and she is too. I'm just some boring girl from the city he met years ago. He's sure to move on to someone like her. Isn't he?" You fret, looking back at the woman again.

The woman —who now sports luscious auburn curls and crystalline eyes— gives you another sweet, motherly smile.

"No, dear. If I know anything about love," she chuckles, "is that it is not easily swayed by beauty or talent. Love is built on something deeper."

You spin around to face her, drinking in her words. "But what if he has found someone better?" you whisper.

The woman sets the comb aside and clasps your hands with hers, her gaze locked with yours. "My dear, there will always be other people who come and go in our lives. But true love is irreplaceable. If Percy truly loves you, he will see you uniquely and fully— as you."

You nod understandingly, and it’s only later that evening that you realise you had never told her Percy’s name.

Suddenly, your intent gaze is pulled away by the sound of an approaching vehicle, and you watch as a shoddy public bus pulls into the stop with a 'splash' and a 'thunk' as it disturbs a large rain-filled pothole.

Through the window seeping warm light into the dark evening, you can make out the silhouette of a dark-haired boy. He stands from his seat and starts walking down the alley.

"That's him!" You squeak, turning back to the lady to point him out.

But the spot beside you is empty, cold and unoccupied as if she was never there.

But you don't have time to wonder because the doors of the bus are beginning to open. You stand up quickly, the nerves returning to your body.

"Trust me," you swear a woman's voice whispers in your ear, but you're distracted by Percy stepping off the bus and rushing over to you.

He sweeps you off your feet, spinning you around and around till you giggle for him to stop. He sets you down gently, green eyes dilated and sickly sweet when they meet yours.

"I missed you so much!" He says, voice filled with genuine affection, and you feel every shred of doubt leave your body.

You laugh, still dizzy. "Percy! I missed you too!"

You finally get to kiss him, and he kisses you back eagerly. He doesn't seem to care about being soaked out here in the rain, every inch of him turned to you with rapt attention.

When you pull away, Percy reaches up to brush a wet strand of hair out of your face, his fingers lingering on your flushed skin. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice brimming with adoration. "I missed this face."

You lean into him, settling into the arm he wraps around you as you begin to walk back to his place. "How was camp? I got your letters— how many people did you kill?" You ask, holding one of his bags with a spare arm.

He laughs, beginning from the start of this year's adventure. You stare up at him attentively as he talks, taking in every detail. He's right, you've missed this face.

As the two of you walk away, you can't help but look back to the bus stop once more, wondering if the woman had been a figment of your imagination.

There, on the seat, lies a gold comb.

#ph☆ebe's scribbles #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson fic #one shot #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson #fanfic #fanfiction

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pretty-little-mind33 · 8 months

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James Potter x muggle wife!reader

Summary: James wants to take you out to one of his families' fancy parties. However, he underestimates how cruel people can be when someone is different.

Genre: Fluff, hurt and comfort / prequel - Enchanted

Warnings: swearing, insecurities, implied sexual relationship, mentions of having kids, cute banter 🥰

The candle shimmers in the room as you sit on the cushioned chair in front of your vanity. You admire your reflection in the dusty mirror and play with the silver pin in your hair. Usually, you love occasions where you can look your prettiest but, on this particular night, dread sits in your stomach.

You feel hands on your shoulders and your head leans back onto your nape as you look up. Your smile widens when you see his dark eyes and brown curls. His hair is slick with fancy gel and the smell of his citrus cologne allows your forming nerves to relax. "Hiya, lovie." He whispers hoarsely and kisses your nose as his hands slide down your arms. It sends goosebumps up your skin.

"Hi, James." You laugh quietly and sit normally.

He smiles at you in the mirror, "Y'ready?" He asks and your smile disappears. James's eyebrows crease and he lowers his head to sprinkle delicate kisses onto your neck and collarbone. You turn around carefully so you don't wrinkle the skin-fitted, satin, slip dress you're wearing and James's eyes follow your movement as you stand up next to him. He licks his lips cheekily, "Ravishing." He mutters.

You want to look unamused, but you smile wearily, "I'm nervous." You whisper.

"Whatever for?" James raises one eyebrow.

"They hate me." You reason and fiddle with his navy blue tie, "They hate everything I represent, Jamie. I'm filth to them."

James snorts and he wraps his arms around you. He kisses your temple, "It's a party. My party. You're my girl, no one will dare mess with you. You'll see my parents and my parents adore you, Y/n/n."

"I know. Of course I know that, but with Voldemort around and all this talk — " You start to mutter but James interrupts you with a sweet kiss. When he pulls away, he's looking into your eyes with a delicately serious expression. An expression so unlike him.

"No one can hurt you when I'm around," He promises. James is always so sure of himself. Some may call it overconfidence but for your sake, you can only pray this is one of the times where his confidence means he's right.

* * *

The Potter's ballroom is made out of expensive marble and lanterns, which drift in the air, illuminate the spacious room. Classical music plays as couples dance, women in elegant dresses drink their champagne in the corners, and older men converse with fancy cigarettes drooping from their wrinkled lips.

You can't help but feel out of place as you seem to be the only one who's enchanted by those lanterns and all the fancy named dishes on silver trays which look delicious and also weirdly disgusting.

James hasn't left your side all evening. Not when he meets up with his best friends, nor when his mother calls his name and wants to introduce him to someone. He guides you with him, his hand on the small of your back, and you smile at his mum, "Hello, Mrs. Potter." You say.

Euphemia Potter beams at you and leans in to kiss your cheeks. She looks down, "What a gorgeous dress, Y/n." She exclaims.

"It's an early anniversary present from James." Your cheeks become warm as you look down at your dress bashfully.

"Good boy." Euphemia chuckles and affectionately pats James's cheek. She turns to the woman next to her, "James, this is Matilda, Orianna's daughter. You remember her from your school years, yes?"

You and James look at Matilda at the same time. She's slim and bony. Her blonde hair is curled in ringlets around her shoulders and her perfume smells extremely expensive. You can't deny she's pretty and a new, uncomfortable, feeling forms in your chest.

Euphemia continues, "Matilda was asking how you were, Jamie, and I just couldn't resist bragging about my beautiful boy."

James nods, "I remember you from Potions our sixth year." He says with a polite smile and Matilda returns the smile with an ecstatic grin.

"Exactly! Oh, it's so nice to connect with you again!" She pauses and her sharp hazel eyes snap to you, "And who is this?" Matilda asks with fake sweetness.

"Y/n Potter." You reply tensely.

"Oh, so you're married." Matilda's smile falters.

"Last summer." James interrupts. He doesn't waste time outstretching his arm and wiggling his fingers as he shows Matilda his ring. It's a normal silver band but by James's excitement, he makes it seem like his ring is the rarest jewel he's ever owned.

If you asked him, it is.

"Isn't he all grown up?" Euphemia comments and Matilda stares at you as she nods absentmindedly, "Now, James, come help me choose a drink for your wife while she makes friends with Matilda," Euphemia says innocently. You turn to protest (you can easily choose your own drink) but his mother has already led James away.

You know Euphemia always means well. You don't have many friends in James's circle and she finds it important to introduce you to as many wizards and witches she knows.

You understand but, at the same time, you don't want to be alone with Matilda. She seemed like a sweet girl in front of James and his mum, but when she has you alone you suddenly feel like a lamb in a wolf's claws.

For good reason because she asks you, "So, I don't remember you from Hogwarts, Y/n? Were you a few years above us?" She fakes a smile.

Ouch, you think, you were two years younger than James.

"I didn't attend Hogwarts."

"Beauxbaton then?"

Hesitantly, you shake your head.

"Ilvermorny? Only, I don't hear an accent." Matilda frowns.

You feel a familiar fear sink in again. Should you have lied? The way Matilda's looking at you now makes you feel uneasy, "I-" You mutter and scan the room. You can't see James anywhere and your heart jumps in your chest at Matilda's next question.

"Are you a muggle?" She squints at you and then moves away a little, her eyes shimmering with disgust, "Oh my merlin, he's married to a muggle." She says and it's loud enough for a few other guests to turn their heads towards you.

You panic and mumble a quick, "Excuse me", as you walk away from her. You can't see your husband anywhere so you wander to the first person you recognize and touch his shoulder. Sirius Black turns around, a concerned look on his face when he sees you,

"Y/n?" He asks.

"Have you seen James?" You ask quietly, feeling foolish as tears brim your eyes.

"No. What happened?" Sirius's arms reach out to hug you and you quickly bury your face in his chest. You can't even form a sentence as all you can hear is cruel whispers as you feel everyone's eyes lock onto you.

"She's a muggle. James Potter married a dirty muggle." Matilda makes a scene childishly, pointing her bony finger directly at you and the entire party feels like it suddenly comes to a halt. You knew this would happen and you want to disappear.

"Don't talk about her like that," You hear your husband snap and you move away from Sirius a little, turning your head around.

"What's happening?” Euphemia asks quietly. You make eye contact with James and the moment he sees your tears, the drink in his hand falls to the floor and shatters at his feet. Striding towards you, he swoops you from Sirius's arms and almost crushes you to his chest.

Matilda narrows her eyes at him.

"You're a pathetic excuse for a witch," James insults her, a dark look in his eyes, and you wish he would stay quiet. His mother stares at him in shock but reaches for his arm anyway,

"Jamie, it's okay." Euphemia tries to calm him down but he's visibly furious now. She turns to Matilda and her family, "How dare you slander my son's wife in that manner? You have no business being here with those foolish and cruel opinions. You can leave my house this instant."

Matilda and her mother look practically appalled, "How could you allow this monstrosity to happen, Euphemia?" Her mother asks and some families look as disgusted as she is. Others look sympathetic and most of James's close friends and family look as furious as he is.

"Monstrosity? He loves her." Euphemia defends you adamantly.

"How can you possibly love a muggle?" Matilda asks James, cheeks flushed, and this time Sirius interrupts,

"Oh, you shut up. You're just nasty and jealous because no one wants a horrible woman like yourself."

Matilda gasps and she looks at Sirius with teary eyes. When she begins to cry loudly, her tears send the entire room into a frenzy. Some jump to defend her, while others start to defend your relationship with James.

In the commotion, your husband takes your hand and quickly leads you out the doors. Outside on the front stairs, you see him take out his wand from inside his blazer and suddenly your entire body jerks. In a few seconds, you find yourself in front of your home and you clutch your stomach.

James holds your hair as you vomit and he soothes circles on your back as he apologizes profusely,

"I'm sorry, my love. I'm so so sorry."

You catch your breath and wipe your mouth with your arm. Now you feel ashamed and gross. You straighten yourself and look at James. He looks extremely guilty. "Didn't I tell you that would happen?" You ask and dramatically slump into him for a hug.

He hugs you and kisses your forehead multiple times, "It shouldn't have, my darling. Matilda is a complete nutter. I don't even know why my mum invites her and her horrible family. Honestly, I know mum means well but she can be so daft sometimes." James squeezes you in his arms.

You smile into his shoulder, "I love your mum. She's always kind to me."

James pulls away and begins to move some hair away from your face, "They should all be kind to you. You're bloody amazing. The smartest and prettiest girl I know." He feels your shoulders drop and he kisses your forehead again, "Come on," He whispers and, with his hand on your back, he leads you inside.

James runs you a warm bath and he washes your body delicately as he tries to scrub away the harsh words and screams from the evening. Then, he dresses you in one of his sweaters and when you sit on the bed you share, James starts to braid your freshly dry and combed hair. It's domestic and you start to feel as fuzzy as the sweater on your skin.

"I love you." You whisper, barely audible but James hears you anyway.

"I would certainly hope so," He tries to lighten the mood as he finishes your braid and pushes your hair over your shoulder, "Otherwise, I would wonder why you married me."

You turn around. James cautiously moves your legs over his crossed ones and he pulls you closer to him, "I would marry you in every lifetime, Jamsey." You admit and he looks pleasantly surprised by your comment.

He smirks, "Even if I was a worm?" He raises his eyebrows teasingly, clearly amused by his own joke.

"Yes. If you were a worm, I'd also want to be a worm, silly.' You reason with a small smile.

"Seems impractical," James chuckles.

You kiss him. You can taste the lasting alcohol from the fancy cocktail he drank, and run a hand into his shaggy hair. "Jamsey," You whisper, burning to hear him say the words, "Tell me you love me?"

James smirks, "I love you, baby."

"And you love me even though I'm only a muggle?" You ask softly, suddenly feeling incredibly insecure that you'll never share something that is so much of who James is. You'll never share memories from Hogwarts, or truly understand the references he makes to the childhood wizard films he loves, and sometimes it still takes you time to remember all the wizard terms he uses when he talks.

James is not pleased with your question, however, "Y/n, do you love me even though I know magic?"

"Of course I do," You answer quickly.

"Then why on earth would you think I love you any less because you don't? I married you, for goodness sakes! You have that pretty ring on your finger to remind you of how much I love you."

James takes your hand and you chuckle when he kisses down your neck, "Okay, you're right, I'm sorry." You say and you feel reassured even when you didn't have to feel insecure. James loves you the way you are. He always has. You've known this from the very first I love you.

"Come on, honey, let's go to sleep." James kisses your cheek.

"Hmm, I was thinking we should do something else," You tease, kissing your husband's nose. James smiles at you and he starts to draw little tiny hearts onto your palm.

"What's that, my love?"

"James, I wanna have a baby." You say. James freezes and his eyes round. He looks at you hesitantly, unsure of his next words,

"You want to have a baby? Now?" He asks and you nod, "I-I don't know if we should — this isn't exactly the safest time to have a kid." James reasons and your heart drops.

He sees your expression and his heart breaks, "No, no, honey. I want a baby." He clarifies, "I just don't want to worry about another love in my life. I worry about you enough, darlin'." He jokes behind some sincerity and you squeeze his hand.

"I understand, James." You look at him and try to hide how sad this situation makes you but James can tell. He can always tell.

"You really want this?" He asks softly, "Even after what happened tonight?"

You let out a choked laugh, "I suppose. I just want a mini-you so badly."

James shakes his head with a smirk, "No, you don't. You know that baby will be an absolute headache if they're anything like I was."

"It'll be worth it," You mumble seriously.

You can see James think for a moment and then he beams and says, "Tell ya what, let's have our baby, yeah?"

"Yeah?" Your eyebrows raise in question.

James pauses a moment, "But, can we plan on staying with your parents for a while until things blow over? Just as a precaution?" He looks a little embarrassed to even ask.

You frown. James wants to live with your parents? Your muggle family? Your heart swells. When you married him, you'd both agreed to live with him in his world. Only a year ago it felt like James would never consider living somewhere where he couldn't access magic.

You look at him softly, "Are you sure?"

James nods and leans in to cup your cheeks, "Anything for you, my love. You and your happiness are the most important things in my life." You feel warm spread across your body as he kisses you and helps you climb into his lap. "I love you." He whispers into your ear as his hands lower themselves to your hips.

You kiss his face, all down his neck, until your hands trail down his stomach to his belt and you attach your lips to the crook of his neck. James lets out a shaky breath, "I love you more, honey." You say and sit up to caress his cheek, "Let's make that baby, yeah?" You grin.

"Don' have to ask me twice, love." James laughs in a mumble and turns you over, his arm wrapped around the small of your back as he presses his lips to yours.

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lord-of-the-prompts · 2 years

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DESCRIBING THE PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES OF CHARACTERS:

Body

descriptors; ample, athletic, barrel-chested, beefy, blocky, bony, brawny, buff, burly, chubby, chiseled, coltish, curvy, fat, fit, herculean, hulking, lanky, lean, long, long-legged, lush, medium build, muscular, narrow, overweight, plump, pot-bellied, pudgy, round, skeletal, skinny, slender, slim, stocky, strong, stout, strong, taut, toned, wide.

Eyebrows

descriptors; bushy, dark, faint, furry, long, plucked, raised, seductive, shaved, short, sleek, sparse, thin, unruly.

shape; arched, diagonal, peaked, round, s-shaped, straight.

Ears

shape; attached lobe, broad lobe, narrow, pointed, round, square, sticking-out.

Eyes

colour; albino, blue (azure, baby blue, caribbean blue, cobalt, ice blue, light blue, midnight, ocean blue, sky blue, steel blue, storm blue,) brown (amber, dark brown, chestnut, chocolate, ebony, gold, hazel, honey, light brown, mocha, pale gold, sable, sepia, teakwood, topaz, whiskey,) gray (concrete gray, marble, misty gray, raincloud, satin gray, smoky, sterling, sugar gray), green (aquamarine, emerald, evergreen, forest green, jade green, leaf green, olive, moss green, sea green, teal, vale).

descriptors; bedroom, bright, cat-like, dull, glittering, red-rimmed, sharp, small, squinty, sunken, sparkling, teary.

positioning/shape; almond, close-set, cross, deep-set, downturned, heavy-lidded, hooded, monolid, round, slanted, upturned, wide-set.

Face

descriptors; angular, cat-like, hallow, sculpted, sharp, wolfish.

shape; chubby, diamond, heart-shaped, long, narrow, oblong, oval, rectangle, round, square, thin, triangle.

Facial Hair

beard; chin curtain, classic, circle, ducktail, dutch, french fork, garibaldi, goatee, hipster, neckbeard, old dutch, spade, stubble, verdi, winter.

clean-shaven

moustache; anchor, brush, english, fu manchu, handlebar, hooked, horseshoe, imperial, lampshade, mistletoe, pencil, toothbrush, walrus.

sideburns; chin strap, mutton chops.

Hair

colour; blonde (ash blonde, golden blonde, beige, honey, platinum blonde, reddish blonde, strawberry-blonde, sunflower blonde,) brown (amber, butterscotch, caramel, champagne, cool brown, golden brown, chocolate, cinnamon, mahogany,) red (apricot, auburn, copper, ginger, titain-haired,), black (expresso, inky-black, jet black, raven, soft black) grey (charcoal gray, salt-and-pepper, silver, steel gray,), white (bleached, snow-white).

descriptors; bedhead, dull, dry, fine, full, layered, limp, messy, neat, oily, shaggy, shinny, slick, smooth, spiky, tangled, thick, thin, thinning, tousled, wispy, wild, windblown.

length; ankle length, bald, buzzed, collar length, ear length, floor length, hip length, mid-back length, neck length, shaved, shoulder length, waist length.

type; beach waves, bushy, curly, frizzy, natural, permed, puffy, ringlets, spiral, straight, thick, thin, wavy.

Hands; calloused, clammy, delicate, elegant, large, plump, rough, small, smooth, square, sturdy, strong.

Fingernails; acrylic, bitten, chipped, curved, claw-like, dirty, fake, grimy, long, manicured, painted, peeling, pointed, ragged, short, uneven.

Fingers; arthritic, cold, elegant, fat, greasy, knobby, slender, stubby.

Lips/Mouth

colour (lipstick); brown (caramel, coffee, nude, nutmeg,) pink (deep rose, fuchsia, magenta, pale peach, raspberry, rose, ) purple (black cherry, plum, violet, wine,) red (deep red, ruby.)

descriptors; chapped, cracked, dry, full, glossy, lush, narrow, pierced, scabby, small, soft, split, swollen, thin, uneven, wide, wrinkled.

shape; bottom-heavy, bow-turned, cupid’s bow, downturned, oval, pouty, rosebud, sharp, top-heavy.

Nose

descriptors; broad, broken, crooked, dainty, droopy, hooked, long, narrow, pointed, raised, round, short, strong, stubby, thin, turned-up, wide.

shape; button, flared, grecian, hawk, roman.

Skin

descriptors; blemished, bruised, chalky, clear, dewy, dimpled, dirty, dry, flaky, flawless, freckled, glowing, hairy, itchy, lined, oily, pimply, rashy, rough, sagging, satiny, scarred, scratched, smooth, splotchy, spotted, tattooed, uneven, wrinkly.

complexion; black, bronzed, brown, dark, fair, ivory, light, medium, olive, pale, peach, porcelain, rosy, tan, white.

#writing prompt #writing ideas #writing tips #creative writing #writers of tumblr #writers block #writing things #writers #writing advice #characteristics #character description

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gojonanami · 8 months

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SEEING YOU TONIGHT, IT'S A BAD IDEA RIGHT? - SATORU GOJO

summary: seeing your ex was always a bad idea, but not if it was satoru gojo.

cw: 18+ readers only, smut, f!reader, innuendos, ex-boyfriend!Satoru, praise kink, thigh riding, degradation, fingering (f!receiving), oral (f!receiving), breeding kink.

a/n: gojo and bad idea right by olivia rodrigo has been living in my head rent free and here's the product :).

word count: 3,873

It was dangerous.

Look at this picture I drew Nanami. Can’t believe he didn’t want to keep it.

Gojo attaches a picture of a crudely drawn dick, and you snort at your phone.

It was a dangerous game the two of you were choosing to play.

Small. Is the response you choose. Short but funny. And just enough to elicit a response you want.

You know the real thing is much bigger.

And there it was.

The game the two of you chose to play back and forth always ended here one way or another - and usually it was him who drove it there in the first place.

Is it? I don’t remember.

Then come over and I’ll remind you.

But that didn’t mean you were completely blameless either.

You bite your lip at his text. You really shouldn’t.

You’re just horny.

That’s right.

Another message.

For you.

Fuck him. But that’s what exactly you wanted to do again.

You told yourself the last time would be the last time. After he had fucked you and left you high and dry, you told yourself you wouldn’t fuck your exes or let them fuck with you. And you didn’t — except for Gojo.

He was always the fucking exception wasn’t he?

And he was the exception to your ick to double texting - because you supposedly took too long to respond to his message.

Should I show you what you’re missing?

And it’s a picture of him fresh out of the shower, with the most shit eating grin on his face. Water ringlets traced his body with absolute reverence, his thighs teasingly visible, reminding you how you had come undone on them the last time you hooked up, and the towel of his was frustratingly too low on his waist.

What’s your new address?

Fuck.

And that’s what you were going to get done tonight.

You didn’t know what to wear. But did it matter because it was going to come off anyway. You opted for a little black dress, one that was a little too short and little too tight.

You pull up to his place - off campus - and it’s a new shiny high rise building that you stare up at with squinting eyes. Show off.

“Trust me, I’m not overcompensating for anything,” and you whirl around to see him waiting for you, “but you know that don’t you?”

“Oh do you ever shut up?” and he leans closer, tilting his sunglasses off his face, lips curled in that goddamn grin. His blue button-up and jeans made your breath catch -- god it had been so long since you've seen him out of his usual Jujutsu Tech uniform.

“I plan to, later tonight,” and you scoff, as he leads you to his building, a hand on the small of your back that sends sparks flying up your spine.

“Memory recalls you don’t shut up much during that as well,” and his hand snakes around your waist as you both walk in, nodding to the doorman as he lets you both into the elevator, “don’t you live at the school? I was surprised when you told me that have a place off-campus,”

“Well I prefer to live in a place free of teenagers sometimes,” his arm leaves you, slipping into his pockets, as he raises an eyebrow, “unless you were looking forward to fucking in our old school,”

You glare at him, “Gojo-“

“That’s not what you called me in Yaga’s classroom that one afternoon when everyone was away-" He says cheekily.

“Oh my god, Satoru, shut up,” and you crush your lips to his, and he’s grinning. His arms slip around your waist as if they never even left. But these weren’t the same lean arms that pinned you to a desk as he ate you out that one afternoon - no these were the ones of a man who has trained and seen battle time and time again. You were always surprised at how broad Satoru had gotten over the years - it shouldn’t be a surprise as he was always the “strongest” but he was lean and fit before, slender almost - but now, as he pressed you against the wall of the elevator, fingers digging into your ass, his body engulfed you.

And you were already addicted to the feeling.

If it was any more obvious, you don’t hear the ding of the elevator as you arrive at his floor, as he pulls away, “going to have to part for a second sweetheart, need to unlock the door.”

But he pulls you along by your hand, and somehow that gesture is all the more overwhelming than anything you had done in the elevator.

You watch him scan his keycard, unlocking the door, “How much does Jujutsu High pay you?”

And he smirks, “Perks of being the strongest,” but you frown at that — you know those were few and far between.

But he pulls you inside, pressing you against the door, “Now where were we?” He hums against your neck, his hands slide over your bare thighs, “I’ve missed this-“

“Could have fooled me,” you sigh as he kisses your neck, “I haven’t heard from you in a year,”

“I am a very busy man,” and he lifts you with such ease, hands wrapped around your thighs, your dress so easily riding up, “wear this just for me?”

“Just for you, and maybe on a few dates,” and his head tilts, expression flickering with jealousy for a millisecond before his god complex returns.

“And yet here you are with me,” and he’s kissing you again, his tongue parting your lips with ease, as if he’s trying to erase any evidence of another person’s touch. You moan when he sucks on your bottom lip, “so pliable, aren’t you sweetheart? Just fall to pieces under my touch,”

And his words serve to make you squirm, but as a challenge as well, as your hands tug him by his collar, “and you don’t? I recall that afternoon in the classroom, and I had to pray no one walked by so they wouldn’t hear your moans when I rode you,”

But he’s annoyingly unfazed, his breath warm against your skin, “I love a woman who takes charge, that’s why I can’t get enough of you,” and he’s closing the gap between you, kissing your lips, before tracing kisses down your jaw and neck, until his teeth graze your pulse, “should I leave a mark?”

“Gojo-“

“Oh I’m definitely leaving a mark now,” and his teeth dig into your neck, sucking and licking, drawing a moan from your throat, “does anyone else make you moan like this?”

“Why are you interested in —ah—“ and he’s tugging the straps of your dress off, “that?” The last word comes out as a whisper.

“No bra? And you’re so insistent that you weren’t flirting with me over text,” and he snaps the strap against your skin, “it’s always flirting when it’s us, sweetheart,”

“You didn’t answer my question,” you grumble and he’s carrying you now, your arms around his shoulders, “Gojo-“

And he’s pressing you to the wall outside his bedroom, and he’s taking off his sunglasses - and no matter how many times you’ve seen his eyes - no matter how many times you’ve stared into them — they always make you feel like you’re drowning — breathless and slow, like you submerged in water, unable break to the surface.

“Are you going to continue to call me that?” And he’s being rough as he teases your thighs apart, his fingers teasing the hem of your dress, “because I may take you right here - let all my neighbors hear you cum on my fingers, my mouth, or my cock - dealer’s choice,” and his kiss is bruising, as his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your thighs, relentless as always, always trying to prove himself, and he had nothing to prove.

And it only took his hand shaking up your thigh to press on the wet patch of your underwear to make you break.

“Satoru, fuck-“ and his grin makes you shiver.

“Good girl,” and you nearly come undone from those words alone, as he carries you to his bedroom, tossing you into his bed without much to-do.

You bounce against the springs of the mattress slightly, but he’s on you in a moment, perched over you, as he meets your lips in a desperate kiss, as if he had parted from your lips ten years ago as opposed to ten seconds.

You are pulling at his shirt, trying to get it over his head, but he pins your arms down before you can, “not yet, baby,”

You’re strong but not when he’s using his strength to hold you in place, “Satoru-“ and he’s using his free hand to slide your straps down lower, “that’s not fair-“

“I was born unfair,” and you snort, but it quickly turns to a groan when his hand squeezes your breast.

“So sensitive,” and he leans his head down to suck on your nipple, “no one tastes as good as you sweetheart,”

“And how many others have you tasted this year?” And he doesn’t pause, only switches to the other, as his fingers tease the other nipple.

“I could ask you the same,” and you gasp as his teeth graze your nipple, “Satoru-“ and he pauses now, “tell me,”

You grit your teeth, “No-"

“Then I’m going to suck a hickey here,” he kisses right above your nipple, “and you won’t be wearing these low cut dresses for a while,” and his teeth bare against your skin, and you jolt against him, “tell me,” he repeats.

You lay your head back, “I said I went on a few dates, I didn’t say I have slept with anyone else-ah-“And he’s sucking the mark, his teeth biting and nibbling on the skin, as he soothes it with his tongue, “you said you wouldn’t-“ you whine, and he smiles, before pressing his lips to yours.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help it,” he cups your cheek, “shyness suits you,”

And he’s tugging your dress downward, rolling it down to your stomach, and you’re pulling at his shirt, until he helps you get it off his shoulders. And your eyes rake over his chest, “Like what you see?”

You flush, “I never said you were bad to look at,” and he raises an eyebrow.

“Princess, I’m the best to look at,” and that draws a laugh from your lips, which he eagerly swallows, pressing his lips fervently to yours, looking to worship the mouth that just made that heavenly noise, “I haven’t been with anyone else,” he breathes, a centimeter from your lips, “since you,”

“Really?” And he tilts his head.

“Just for you, sweetheart,” and you don’t waste a moment.

You’re flipping him on his back, and he’s staring up at you — in shock and then in lust filled eyes, a thick haze that settles over your body, as you press your lips to his again, and he surges to meet them.

Your fingers are fumbling with his belt, and he’s trying to pull your dress down your legs. You part for a moment, standing to pull it off, before settling on his lap again, but his hands pull you to settle on his thigh instead.

He flexes his thigh, and you stifle your moan, your cunt squeezing around nothing, “come on, ride my thigh,” your wetness soaks through and he groans, “you’re certainly wet enough for it,”

“Fuck-“ and he flexes again and again, until you’re grinding against his thigh, and his cocky grin makes you want to slap him.

“Sweetheart, you’re soaking through,” and he grunts, helping you ride his thigh, the muscle and fabric rubbing against your clit, making you moan, “that’s it, c’mon cum on my thigh like a good slut,”

And that sends you over the edge, the squelch of your pussy on his leg growing only louder, as your juices run down his pant leg, “glad I could do that twice,” and he’s kissing your neck, “maybe we can make it a third,”

And you meet his lips in a lazy kiss, your lips sliding across his at first, until it grows more insistent, and you’re back fumbling with his belt, pulling it off, and undoing the button of his jeans.

“So needy,” he smirks, and he lifts his waist, to help you pull off his pants, “didn’t know you needed my dick that bad, Princess,” but the smugness leaves as you palm him through his boxers, a hiss leaving his mouth as you slip your hand inside, teasing the head with your fingers.

“What was that again? Who’s needy?” You grin — you love watching him fold for you like this, as blood rushes to his cheeks and cock, he’s nearly panting as you palm him, and it’s such a pretty cock — was there anything about him that wasn’t unfairly perfect? “Fuck, I forgot how big you were - gonna split me in half, aren’t you?” But you’re going much too slow for his taste, as your fingers tease him, smearing his pre-cum over his length, as you lick it from your fingers, “and you always taste so good,”

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re toying with me,” he nearly growls, as you pull off his boxers, snapping the elastic against his skin as you do.

“But you’re my favorite toy,” and your fingers return around his dick, squeezing lightly, and that’s his final straw.

You don’t even realize your back is hitting the bed until you’re already pinned under him, and he’s smiling between your thighs now, “two can play at that game sweetheart,” and he kisses your inner thigh, “and I always win,”

And he’s pulling down your panties in a moment, letting a reverent fuck leave his lips as he stares at your swollen lips, “So pretty,” and he noses at your inner thighs, before his teeth dig into your sensitive skin, and your breath stutters, “and all for me,”

“Satoru-“ and his fingers are parting your folds, making your hips jump at his touch, and he can’t have that can he? And he’s pinning your hips, as he stares at your pretty swollen folds, “stop teasing-“

“Like you stopped teasing me, Princess?” He raises an eyebrow, but he slips a finger inside, “but I’ll be nice, unlike you,” and he’s pumping his finger knuckle deep, slipping into places you could never reach yourself, “fuck, you’re practically swallowing my finger,” and a second finger is stuffed inside you, “can’t wait to feel this pussy around my cock,” and you’re shaking when he finally leans down to press a kiss to your pretty clit.

“S-satoru,” you moan, a mess, as he fucks your walls hard with his fingers, the lewd squelching ringing in your ears, as he continued to pry apart your thighs, leaning down to press his lips to your clit again.

And you whimper, before moaning, as he sucks at it, lapping at your pussy, as he continued to fuck you, “so sweet when you’re all fucked out, keep making those pretty noises, sweetheart,”

And you have no choice when his tongue slips in the stead of his fingers, fingers choosing to play and pinch your clit, a symphony of moans and whines leaving your throat, as you move to cover your face.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he coos, kissing your pussy as he speaks, “you’re going to make me self-conscious and we wouldn’t want that, would we baby?” And his words are not helping as he redoubles his efforts, pausing only to speak, as his hands sneak under your thighs to press you impossibly closer to his mouth, intent on devouring you, “look at me - wanna see my pretty baby’s face when she falls apart for me,”

And you look, his face smeared with your cum, lips glossy and nearly dripping with it, as he grins, before feasting on you again, makes you fall apart as he wants, “cum in my mouth,” he murmurs, “wanna fucking live in his pussy,”

And you’re coming undone, fast and hard, but he doesn’t seem to care, slurping and sucking every drop you bestow upon him, “I know where I got my sweet tooth now,” and he’s still eating you through your orgasm, as you shudder and shiver from his touch.

“Fuck, ‘Toru, I swear to god-“

“I’m right here baby, you don’t have to swear your allegiance to me,” and he’s licking his fingers clean, making a show of it, “pretty sure you did that when you screamed my name when you came,”

“You fucker,” and he’s giving you lazy kisses again, trying to bring you down from your high, just to bring you back up again, and you’re palming his erection now, “need you,”

“What was that?” And he’s so smarmy, it makes you want to slap him or kiss him or possibly both, “say it again,”

And then you squeeze his dick, making him grunt, “I said I need you,” and you’re brushing the head of his cock against your folds, again and again, making him groan, “any questions sensei?” You add mockingly, but that only serves to make him grin wider.

“So fuckin’ eager for me to split you open with my dick huh, Princess?” His pre-cum dripping onto your fucked out pussy, “can’t go a second without being filled by me? I know sweetheart, I hit all the spots you can’t reach with your fingers right? Bet all those others can’t reach them either,” and he’s kissing you, hard, as he presses his cock into you, bumping against you, but never slipping in, “then I’ll just have to spoil you tonight, won’t I?” He notches himself against your slit, his traitorous mouth leaning down to suck at your tit before he finally eases into you.

And you forgot just how big he was, as he finally sinks into you, his cock parting your folds, impatient as ever as he sinks slowly at first and than all at once, “you can still take me, and you always take me so well,” he groans, as your walls squeeze him, nearly making him cum right there, “you were made for me, made to fuck me,” he’s panting now, as you’re ready to fall apart under him.

“Then fuck me,” and he does just that - no semblance of self-control left - not that he had much to begin with. Not when it came to you.

He loves hearing you moan his name, over and over, as he begins to thrust in earnest, hips slapping against yours, making you gasp and your head roll back, “Satoru, Satoru, fuck-“

“Come on baby you can take it, look at how good you’re taking me, such a good girl,” and he grasps your chin making you look at where your bodies met, his cock slipping in and out of you with ease, a white ring of your cum around its base, “that’s it, c’mon, you make me feel so fucking good,”

And then he’s slipping out of you, as you whines but now he’s pulled you into his lap, “baby, I can’t be doing all the work, now can I?”

His thighs are sticky and wet with your fluids, as you start to ride him, your thighs meeting his with rough snaps, “So fucking gorgeous,” he groans, leaning in to suck at your tits again, “I’ll never get sick of this view, need to fuck you like this again,” and he meets you with a brutal thrust of his hips as he grasps your waist that brushes against places you only could dream to touch, and he grins as your head lolls back, “there is it, just where I left it, Princess,”

“S’close, ‘Toru, I can’t-“ you murmur, as he cups your cheek and presses a hot kiss to your lips.

“Then cum for me on my dick like a good little slut, and scream for me, make sure my neighbors know how good this cock is,” and he’s grasping your waist, fucking tou hard as you cum around his cock, and you scream his name as you do, but he fucks you through your orgasm, grunting and groaning. Your release slips down his dick as you squeeze him, “good fucking girl,” He’s close too - his thrusts becoming deeper and sloppy, “where you want me to cum?”

And your legs are wrapping around his waist, “Fill me, want it inside,” and Satoru can't help but moans your name.

He's grunting, sloppily thrusting now -- he's so close, your walls clamping down again and again, “Want me to breed you, sweetheart,” he grunts, bottoming out, “then let me fill you, fuck-“ he moans as he cums, spurting his hot, thick cum inside your walls, and you’re nearly keening against him, but he holds you steady with his fingers against your hips, nails digging crescents into your skin, “gotta make every drop count, now don’t we, love?” As he slowly pumps into you, pushing it deeper, “now what’d people say when you get pregnant by your ex? Hm? Wanna baby trap me, princess? You don’t have to do that to get me to stay,”

And he’s still inside you as he stills, cupping your chin, “I don’t huh?” You tilt your head, as he presses a kiss to your lips, “then why did you leave in the first place?”

His grin twists into a frown, sighing, as he can't meet your gaze now, “Did you really want to be with me?” And you open your mouth, “being with me is as good as placing a target on your back, and I’m not always going to here to help-“

You glare at him, “I don’t need you to protect me—"

“Except the one time you do,” he says softly, “and then what? I could deal with losing you, but I don't ever want to have to mourn you," his words are quiet, "we’ve both lost too much-" and his voice wavers, “I didn’t want you to be another thing I lost, but you were anyway,” and he gives a small chuckle, “I didn’t wanna end up alone, but without you, I’m still alone,” he gives a pitiful smile, “fitting for the strongest, huh?”

You hold his cheeks, forcing him to look at you, “You don’t have to be alone. I can’t make promises that I’ll be okay - that would be a pretty shit promise to make, we both know that, but,” you kiss his lips sweetly, the corners of his lips lifting at your taste, “I can promise I’ll do my best to live, I’ll do my best to support you, I’ll do my best to love you - if you can promise to do the same,”

And his lips crack into a grin, “Love, huh?”

“You’ve grown on me,” you tease, but he can’t let that stand. And he shifts his hips, making you moan, as he lays you down, slipping out of you, to smear his cockhead down your folds, watching you convulse around nothing as his cum slips out of you, “Satoru—fuck-“ and his fingers are scooping the liquid back inside, pushing it back in, “what are you doing?” you grumble, half annoyed, half moaning.

And he only smiles, “Gotta make up for lost time, don’t we princess?” And he leans over you, pressing a kiss to your lips, before reaching for his phone, “now let me take a picture — gotta let Nanami know someone appreciated my drawing.”

“You send that picture, and we won’t need to worry about me surviving anymore, because I’ll have killed you,” and he rolls his eyes, snapping the picture anyway.

“Don’t worry, I won’t send him this picture, that’s for my personal use,” he winks as he slips his fingers from you, licking your mixed releases from his digits, “but I’ll let him know how much you enjoyed it,” and he’s leaning over you again, “and how much you will again,”

“And every night?” You smile up at him, pulling him closer.

And he replies before you pull him into another kiss, “Only way to shut me up.”

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phasecornnuts · 1 month

Note

Hiiiiiiii! If you’re still open for requests maybe you might wanna write something where the reader casually mentioned that they/she had a partner on earth before they died and Alastor takes it a bit too drastically and has just been very salty and asking too many questions 😭 if you like that

Please & thanks ❤️

Hey guys I've returned! Sorry for taking a little while, I was busy with finals/I wanted to relax on my spring break so I didn't have a lot of time. I lowkey kind of cooked with this one too so enjoy :3

Also, I sorta made the reader be from around the same time period as Alastor (sorta late 1910s early 1930s) for extra spice

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

It had become a daily routine for you and Alastor to have afternoon tea together in cannibal town. Always, between the hours and four and six o’ clock after Alastor had finished his broadcast and you, your hotel duties, the both of you would walk down to Rosie’s Emporium to nibble on finger sandwiches, candied eyeballs, and other treats.

The sun was still high in the sky, sending fingers of light through the windows of the cafe; the building was alive with the chatter of demons and hell-born alike. You and Alastor had just sat down, a short cannibal girl with a heart-shaped face and glowing brown ringlets placing your usuals on the table. Oh how beautiful they were! Too pretty to eat, garnished with tiny sprigs of mint (or, at least, it may have been mint) and resting on plates of delicate porcelain. With polished silver beside them, and matching teacups and saucers too, it all looked like a party for a girl’s favorite doll.

That is, if it weren’t human meat.

Looking up from your plate, you saw Alastor turn his head to follow the cannibal girl making you frown. His gaze returned to you before he caught you staring, a chipper grin on his face as always.

“She could be a dead ringer for Mary Pickford, don’t you think?”

Your eyebrows perked. You hadn’t looked long at the girl admittedly, though you stared long enough to know that she was no Pickford. You pursed your lips,

“I don’t see it, Lillian Gish maybe.”

He looked at you like a mad-woman, “You don’t!?”

“No! Her eyes are much too large!”

Alastor chuffed, proceeding to rest his chin on his dark hand, “In the eye of the beholder I suppose.”

You rolled your eyes, “You only say that because of her curls,” you stated while picking up the teapot and pouring yourself and Alastor your cups, “Now, drink before it gets cold.”

For much of your lunch neither of you spoke, merely enjoying each other’s presence while pecking on some food here and there. Throughout the meal the waitress brought more plates, pancreas tarts, minced tongues coated with cinnamon sugar, and sweet pies filled with rotted venison and cooked kidneys, all Rosie’s treat. Alastor had been taken by the small pies in their mulled deliciousness, the meat so tender you saw his eyes water. He pleaded you to try one, though you couldn’t, your stomach filled to the brim from the other treats and delicacies.

Alastor picked up the small pair of silver tongs from beside him and placed two sugar cubes in his tea, “I do say, it’s nice to have a meal companion again.” He took a sip from his teacup and grinned.

You nodded in agreement, lifting the milk jug from the table and pouring a generous amount into your cup. “Likewise. Good dinner conversation is a horrid thing to lose.”

“Truly.” He took another drink. “Before you, I hadn’t had a proper luncheon since my mother.”

“From what you tell she sounded like a fine woman.” His grin lost its eeriness, becoming fond instead.

“She truly was, and such a fine cook too.” Alastor gazed at the fine pattern painted on the rim of his saucer, “her jambalaya was the best, our side of the Mississippi” he chuckled. He began to remember then, “And her gumbo and her crawfish etouffee and her pecan pralines”

It was odd to hear his voice so full of affection, but nice too. So strange, to think a man who broadcasted his murders of other overlords and feasted on their flesh was once a little boy who clung to his mothers skirt and happily ate her cooking.

“Maybe one day you’ll cook for me then?” you teased

“Oh why wouldn’t I for my favoritest of sinners?” He took your hand.

You leaned in towards him, a silent flirtation. “Or perhaps I could prepare something for you?”

He looked at you from his dark, hooded eyes, a certain intrigue radiating from them. “Would you now?” he said, leaning in closer.

“Oh I would, anything you’d like.” the tip of your oxford lingering at his ankle. “My food was good enough for my darling back on earth, why would an overlord of hell have any complaints? Other than not enough seasoning I suppose.”

That was when the laughter in his eyes died. Alastor bit the inside of his cheek before finding the words to speak, “Your darling?”

“Pardon?”

“You had someone,” He straightened up, pulling himself away from you, “back on earth?”

“I hardly see how it matters now.”

Alastor’s tone grew curt, had such a simple word bruised his ego?

He crossed his arms, “What were they like?” each word as sharp as his teeth.

You pulled your hands close to you, confused at his curtness, “They were….they were nice. Cordial, spirited, vivacious, however you would put it. If you’re-” Alastor cut you off.

“How did you meet them?”

“On the trolley.” That only served to make him scoff.

“Tch, how common. The trolley.”

You chewed your bottom lip, trying to deny the anger towards him that began to knot in your belly. “It was a different lifetime.” You asserted, a hard finality to it. Pushing yourself from the small table you smoothed your skirt and adjusted the ribbon that was tied so nicely in your hair.

Without looking at him you said, “Tell Rosie I’m grateful for her hospitality and I will try to find a way to repay her. Also that I’m sorry that I had to retire without saying hello but I feel rather…faint.” Before leaving completely you said, “See you back at the hotel.”

The rest of the day you hid in your room, sulking and pacing. Charlie had tried to coax you out, seeing how angry you’d been when you came back, but you denied every effort she had.

“It’s not good to stay cooped up in there,” the Princess pleaded.

“I like my alone time.”

“But- but I had games planned! Husk was going to show us how to play Blackjack and Dominoes!”

“I prefer bridge, and he’ll just cheat us anyways.”

She gave a disappointed sigh, and outside the door you could hear Vaggie talking to her, telling Charlie to give you your space.

For three nights straight you avoided Alastor, finishing up your hotel duties quickly before hiding in your room. You grew bored after the first day admittedly, a person could only sleep and bathe and read so much. The fourth night is when he knocked on your door while you lied draped on your couch, your nose in a book you’d already finished before. Thinking it was Charlie, you ignored it, sure she’d get the message. It insisted however, rapping harder the second time. You sighed, annoyed. “Who is it?”

“Alastor, may I come in?”

A sour taste came in your mouth, “No.”

“You cannot lock yourself away from me forever.”

You lifted yourself off the couch, full of bitterness, “I can and I will!”

An electric hum filled your ears, the sound of Alastor weighing his words, “Could you at least entertain my attempt?”

Walking to the door and opening it slightly you saw his face, those deep, hooded eyes dark as blood, cracked lips, and hollow cheekbones. All of those beautiful, haunting features draped in remorse. You sighed, cursing the affection you had for him.

“Fine, but I’m still cross with you.” That made him smile, if only a tad.

Opening the door fully, you saw he’d brought one of the dining carts from the unused kitchen clad in a clean white sheet. Alastor pushed it to the center of the room before spiritedly ripping the cover from the cart, presenting polished silver dishes of raw meat and organs. From the bottom shelf of it, he had pulled a fine bottle of wine and two shining glasses.

“I helped myself to a bottle of Husk’s finest, the patrons here don’t have as refined tastes as you and I.” He gave a small grin. So this is what he brought with him, a peace offering. Your stomach was empty from only eating a small meal earlier in the day, so perhaps it was not in vain, though you weren’t sure if you were ready to forgive him.

“I’ll help you set the table,” you offered, feeling guilty he put so much effort into pleasing you.

Alastor held his hands up, “No need darling.” He put his hand on his throat, “What I said the other day was very…” he coughed into his hand, “ungentlemanly of me, and I wanted to make it up to you.”

You folded your hands and held them to your chest, looking at the embarrassment he tried to hide. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath, and raised your gaze to his. “Thank you, Alastor.” His grin widened as he sat down beside you.

He uncorked the bottle of wine, beginning to pour it into the glasses, “Of course.” He handed you the glass which you took gladly. The vintage was so dark it looked black, reflecting the lights that glowed from the ceiling. Swishing it, you could see the hidden shades of red that the wine hid.

“Demon’s blood, Husk calls it.” Alastor told you before he took a long sip.

“Fitting. Do you know how long he’s aged it?” Alastor shrugged, taking another swallow.

“I didn’t care to ask, but it tastes so good going down. Come, drink, I didn’t bring this up so I could get drunk by myself.” That made you giggle, how much he valued the both of you eating and drinking together.

Taking his lead, you titled your head back, savoring the warm burn of the wine going down. Its hot fingers lingered in your chest before fading, like drinking cold medicine. In three large gulps you finished your glass, noticing the way Alastor’s eyes watched your throat as you drank. After finishing your second glass you began to dig into the food he’d brought, pancreas tarts, cooked kidneys and…oh good god! On the largest plate was a raw heart, fresh and bloody.

“Where did you get this? You shouldn’t have!” Your eyes went wide and your mouth began to salivate. A raw heart! Oh and it was human too! Such a fine delicacy must have taken so much begging from Alastor!

“Rosie owed me a favor. And I owe it to you, for making such a jackass of myself.”

You took another sip of your wine, feeling your face begin to flush. You helped yourself to a tart while Alastor poured himself another glass. As you ate you felt his eyes on you again, focusing on the way your teeth bit into the pastry, your swan’s neck showing your swallow, and how your tongue dragged across your lips. Feeling bold, you placed your feet in his lap and wiped the corner of your mouth with your finger, licking the tip of it with your tongue. He swallowed, hard, his eyes growing wide.

“Are you looking at something?” Your voice a heavy seduction.

“Possibly.” He drank again. Leaning back on the arm of the couch, he placed his glass on the floor. The tips of his fingers grazed your legs, “Though I do have another question for you, if I may.”

A sultry smirk grew on your face, “That depends on what it is, Al.” God, you could see the glint in his eyes then.

Alastor looked up at you from his hooded eyes, “I’ve been wondering…about your “darling.” You arched an eyebrow; your interest piqued. “Did they ever have…you?” His breath shuddered.

“Have me, how?” You teased.

“Oh humor me my dear,” He purred

You smirked and shifted your legs in his lap. “Hmm, maybe once or twice…” You sit up from your recline and crawl onto his lap.

“What sorts of things did they do to you?”

Running your fingers down his chest you savored the way he squirmed and shifted, “All sorts of unholy things”

Alastor choked on his breath, his eyes transfixed on your face. Slowly, he caught it, regaining a certain boldness afterwards. His hand found the top of your stocking, fingering the nylon taut to your thighs. “Getting rather comfortable aren’t we my dear?”

The smirk you had deepened and you pulled in closer, feeling the heat of his breath tickle your cheeks. You looked into his eyes, “I could get much more comfortable if you like, Al.” For what seemed like ages you lingered, until you felt you had tortured the man enough. Slowly, you leaned in, seemingly ready to kiss his shiny red lips. Grinning, you pulled a piece of dry skin from his bottom lip between your teeth, peeling it to show the bleeding flesh beneath.

You sat back on his lap and spat out the skin. Looking at him, you saw that hunger in his eyes again. That fine line of decorum the two of you had with one another, ignoring the lingering gazes and longing touches, all thrown away with one bite. Underneath, you could feel his arousal beginning to grow hard. You rolled your hips slightly into him, earning a throaty groan from Alastor. From the silver dining cart you pulled the piece de resistance, that raw bleeding heart, and sunk your teeth into it, tasting the sweet flavor of iron. Trails of blood dripped from your mouth onto your decolletage, slowly turning brown and flaky.

Alastor’s breath heaved, growing even harder from that sultry cannibalistic display. He pulled you towards him and pressed your mouth to his, saccharine saliva mixing with sanguine. His tongue slid and twisted about yours, savoring every inch of its taste. You pulled away from him to catch your breath, making him whine. Leaning in again, he dragged his tongue along your neck, cleaning up the drying strings of blood.

Both of you straightened up then, him holding you proper now. One hand ran its fingers through his shiny red hair and the other cupped his aching sex, so taut against his trousers.

“Is that what you were so upset about Al? If they fucked me or not?” You purred into his ear.

The tips of your fingers fluttered over his hip, tracing its edge before returning to his cock. “I bet you wondered if I did this to them, didn’t you?” A small nip was placed on his neck, leaving a red half-moon. Your breath grew hot against his cheek as you whispered into his ear again,

“Maybe I did, and maybe I did so many more dirty things to them.”

Alastor enraptured your mouth in another needy kiss. His words heavy with radio static, “What sort of things my dear? Or are you all talk?” Your grin widened seeing the shock in his eyes when you began to unbutton his overcoat.

“Let me show you.”

Four little words was all it took to send him over the edge. Picking you up, his hands traced over all the parts of your succulent body. When he flopped you on the bed, hair as tousled as a pin-up, you reached out a stockinged leg to him, that devious look on your face growing. Oh how badly he wanted to have you, hastily unzipping your dress as you stripped him down to his undershirt and trousers. Deft fingers hooked around the tops of your stockings, pulling them down as fast as they could. You dropped his trousers and took off his shirt, admiring all of that soft, gray skin.

You pressed your mouth to the flesh of his stomach, blessing it with small love-bites that made him shudder. All along his torso you left red patches and traced your cool fingertips along the hard edges where his ribs poked out. You tilted your head up and moved his hands to the straps of your brasserie, exposing all of your hot, yearning flesh. He cupped a breast and lied on top of you. Grinding his sex to yours he moaned into your mouth. It had been so…so long since you’d been wanted, since someone pressed their body to yours and you felt all of their heat as they slid into you, over and over again.

“Al,” You breathed

“What is it?”

“Get on your back.”

And so he did.

Alastor’s back against the mattress and your palms against his chest, you let him enter you. He let out a string of curses when you did, and even more when you started moving in those easy rolling motions. Those large hands of his held the curve of your waist as you rode him, his eyes half-lidded as he watched your breasts bounce.

“The first time I saw you…” You began, going a little faster, “I wanted you,” You heard a small thud as he dropped his head against the pillows.

“I thought about you kissing me and touching me all over” That’s when the pulses of pleasure started to build up, prickling you in sweet needles that went all the way up your spine.

“And about you sticking your fingers in me and..and your tongue too” You felt your face heat up and your sex grow slicker, admitting those indecent thoughts you only entertained during late nights when your fingers wandered. Alastor gripped your waist tighter, making your rhythm harsher. You looked down on him, his eyes glazed over with euphoria, and felt your mouth pool with saliva.

Digging your nails into the skin of his chest you kept on. “For a whole week I couldn’t keep from slipping my hands between my legs.” Your voice, thick and hoarse. “I wanted to know what you tasted like, if-if your mouth tasted like blood,” that was when he quickened the pace even more. Your sex was so hot and wet, all the way at the base of your spine you could feel your orgasm coming to you, a full-body shiver that made your eyes well with tears.

The last part was what sent him over the edge though.

“Sometimes, I’d bite myself so I could taste the blood when I’d touch-” was all it took to make him come.

Fuck it felt good too. A weak falsetto escaped your mouth when he released, so warm and filling. That’s what made you reach your end too. You clawed your nails in his skin so deep there were two broken half-moons on his chest. Your thighs clenched against his torso, quivering, as you could feel your body become as light and floaty as chiffon.

Alastor let the both of you ride it out, that sweet joyous bliss. When your mind returned from the heaven it was sent to, you leaned over, resting on top of him. He moved you gently, pressing you closely to his chest. For a while, neither of you spoke, the air lingering with the smell of sweat and blood and sex. You ran your fingers through his hair again; He kissed the back of your hand before speaking.

“If I’d known all that would come out of making you angry at me, I would’ve earned your ire a long while ago.” You rolled your eyes, flicking his chest playfully.

“Perhaps we could do this again, without the arguing?” You propose, “You’re quite good at it.”

A smile stretched across his face as he played with a lock of hair that rested near your face, “Expect nothing less from an overlord of hell cher.” One of his hands slid to your lower back, tracing small circles on that creamy flesh.

“How about we try one more time without the arguing, for good measure?”

You smirked and kissed him again. All for good measure.

#hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel smut #alastor x y/n #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel imagines #fanfic request

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murdrdocs · 5 months

Note

Snow being angry sejanus’ dick is bigger than his then being shut up by getting his back blown out lol

fem!reader for one line & anal sex woo!

he's poutier than usual. snappier than usual. more standoffish than usual. at first, you chalked it up to coriolanus being coriolanus. he could get like this sometimes, it wasn't anything to cause any concern.

but then a day became two which became four and you really just can't stand it anymore, so you're poking him in the side and forcing him to tell you what's wrong.

his claims of "nothing" go in one ear and out the other, solely because you know it's something. coriolanus snow doesn't let 'nothing' bother him. it takes a few more pokes, some empty threats, and even then his admission slips out practically on accident.

"go bother sejanus and his big dick instead." he's turning away from you as he says it, voice dripping with copious amounts of green dyed jealousy. although it shouldn't, it makes you laugh a little.

mostly because you know exactly what he's talking about, something you'd said to sejanus in the heat of the moment. taking coriolanus from the back, urging sejanus to fill up your mouth, and you know how big sejanus is, but every time you see him is like the first time.

"god, sej, you're so big," you'd told him, practically drooling at just the sight. coriolanus' thrusts had faltered at the time, but he resumed quick enough for you to not consider it. not until now.

"oh, coryo," you coo, twirling a ringlet of blond around your pointer finger. "i didn't mean it like that. swear." he doesn't say anything, clearly unconvinced. so you do what you can.

wrapping your arms around his waist, scooting closer to him on the couch and resting your chin on his shoulder. "you know i love your dick too. but sejanus' is different." you kiss the side of his neck. "you just have to feel it one day."

and it's a miracle that you both coax coriolanus into trying it, laying him back while sejanus prepped his tight hole and you held his hand, splattering soothing kisses along the skin of his chest and shoulders. "doing so good, coryo," you told him from time to time, even sliding your hand down and giving his cock a few tugs to help him relax more.

and when sejanus slips in, you watch coriolanus' face. first, stoic, obviously a little nervous. then the discomfort, a pinch between his eyebrows, a minute frown on his pretty pink lips before they part in an inaudible gasp. you keep your hand circling his tip, trying to distract one feeling with the other, while sejanus does the same by running his thumb back and forth on the skin of sejanus' hip.

then comes your favorite part, when the burning and discomfort becomes worth it. when sejanus starts rocking his hips back and forth in steady thrusts and the pleasure kicks in.

coriolanus actually says "oh", inciting a giggle from you and a chuckle from sejanus.

"yeah? 's good right, coryo?" you ask, ghosting your nails up the skin of his cock. he nods, licking his lips and letting his head fall further back, the crown of his blond tresses rubbing against the mattress.

"it's so good. don't stop. please." he's the most desperate he's ever been, voice borderline whiny and shamelessly breathy. it makes you dig the heel of your foot into your cunt, trying to get any possible friction. sejanus notices, but he doesn't help, instead focused on coriolanus' pleasure and you selflessly decide to do the same.

sejanus' brown eyes flick over coriolanus' body, taking it all in, before they sink back down to where his cock is moving through the inexperienced ring of coriolanus' asshole. he grits his teeth, eyes fluttering shut as he groans deep.

when he speaks, it's through that position.

"i won't stop, coryo." coriolanus' nickname sounds prettier than usual from sejanus' lips like this. he continues speaking before you can dwell on it.

"just tell me one thing: is it as big as she says it is?" you know he knows the answer to that, you're sure all three of you do. but he wants to make coriolanus admit it.

you look to him for the answer. it comes simple and curt from pretty pink lips.

"yes."

#coryosworld!#sejsworld!#coriolanus snow x sejanus plinth #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow smut #sejanus plinth smut #celeste writes thg

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cherievol6 · 11 months

Text

frown

word count: ~800 words

warnings: none, it's just harry being cute

harry's frowny and you're teasing him

“I thought you looked a bit mean when I met you.”

Harry stops playing with your hair and tears his gaze away from the boys kicking a football around. The tour bus is parked on the gravel beside you to shield the world from your small group, though the area you stopped to stretch your legs was fairly secluded anyway.

“You what?” The amber setting sun casts over just one of his eyes when you look up at him from leaning against his chest. It makes the one eye look like a polished green marble. He looks slightly confused, a frown dug between his eyebrows, but a slight smirk starting to grow on his lips.

You shrug. “Yeah. That night we met in London, you looked all scary and mean with your long hair and your signature frown.” You giggle quietly, mimicking his facial expression that he almost always had etched on his face.

Said frown deepens, and he pouts out his bottom lip for further effect. His voice is defensive when he replies, before giving your hair a slight tug. “Yeah, but- I bet when we spoke you thought I was nice as pie!”

“Well yeah. I wouldn’t be dating you now if you weren’t.” You laugh reaching a hand up to wrap a ringlet of his hair around your finger. He pout his lips before he grabs your hand and kisses your fingers.

“I don’t like the idea of not looking approachable. I don’t want people to think I’m rude.” He mumbles, letting out a breathy laugh.

“Oh, H. I’m only messing. Plus, for the record, you didn’t look so scary when I finally plucked up the courage to talk to you,” he smiles at this, and you can tell he’s fishing for a bit of validation, so you appease your boyfriend, “especially not when the first words that came out of your mouth were just word vomit. I knew you were a bit of a lover boy from then on.”

You recall it fondly, Harry looking like he owned the damn place when you walked past him with a crystalline glass filled with liquor and a face like thunder. You watched him for a few minutes that night and noticed he was surrounded by the boys, but didn’t really have anyone to talk to. At that point, you bit back your fear, because when would you ever get the chance to do it again? His frown had instantaneously wiped from his face when he got a glimpse of you stalking towards him with a mischievous look on his face.

“My god.” You mimick Harry’s throaty gruff he’d accidentally said aloud when he saw you approaching that night you met. His loss of composure had given you a massive confidence boost - an ordinary woman like you could make Harry Styles speechless.

“Alright, shut up. You looked really pretty in that black dress…I wasn’t thinking with my brain in that moment - if you know what I mean.” A small blush creeps up on to his cheeks and you grin from ear to ear.

"Oh yeah? Dirty bugger." You tease.

"I meant my heart, obviously..." He uses his sarcastic tone and you scoff.

"Yeah, I'm sure you did." You laugh, rolling your eyes and trying to push his arm away. He locks you in a vice grip and plants a loud smacking kiss on your cheek.

"If we're being honest right now, I was frowning like that because I wanted to come up to you earlier that night, but some random silver fox beat me to it."

"So you were sulking?" You cackle, sitting up and pinching his cheek, before dropping your voice, "you being a bit jealous is kind of sexy."

He scrunches his nose.

"I wasn't sulking." He says (in an ironically sulky way).

“Aw, H. You have me now, though. Unless that silver fox is hanging around here..." You playfully pretend to search the pitch for the man that tried to chat you up that night. Harry rolls his eyes and gently pinches your top and bottom lips together to close them. His playful frown is back and you try to reach up and rub the creases from his eyebrows.

"I wasn't even listening to what that sleaze was saying," Harry frees your lips and you hold his chin, "He actually caught me looking at you a few times when he was trying to tell me all about his boats in France." Harry laughs through his nose at this, a smile spreading across his face at that.

"Yeah?" He mumbles, brushing your hair behind your ear.

"Yeah," you hum, running your thumb on his bottom lip, "I told him I was only interested in new money. Boy-band money--"

"Right! That's it." Harry grasps your wrists in his hand and rises both of your bodies quickly, hoisting you over his shoulder in a fireman's lift.

"Harry!" You bark out a laugh as he starts to walk to a line of trees.

"Boys! I think we need to ditch her here, she's only in it for the money!"

hiiiiiiiiiii. this is short but sweet!!! not my best but i thought i'd feed you just for a little longer until i finish my last uni exam (ON FRIDAY YAYYYY). on the home stretch. kissy.

also i have some things in the works ;)

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #boyfriendrry #harry styles story #harry #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles concept #cherievol6 #harry styles boyfriend #boyfriend!harry #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you

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tieronecrush · 7 months

Text

i only have eyes for you

summary: your boyfriend frankie has biannual eye exams for his pilot’s license, and the results of this last one were not what he was hoping for. to his dismay, frankie needs glasses. and you’re not available to help him pick them out.

wc: 2.3k

warnings: none, pure fluff really. ending has mature themes mentioned, but this is really just a sweetie frankie moment 🩵

a/n: this was born out of @northernbluess and I discussing the frankie vibes of the photo(s) above, and then me running off with a delusion of frankie needing glasses. so wholesome, so shy, so sweet 😭

“Seriously? Doesn’t your boss know you have plans with me?” Frankie groans from his place on the couch, flannel stretched across his shoulders and his Standard Oil cap on his head. Dark chocolate curls peek out of the hat, ringlets curving around the edges and his ears, while his plush bottom lip juts out in a pout.

Crossing the living room, you plant yourself on the area rug between his open legs, one hand reaching down to grab his chin and tilt his head to face you, eyes exposed from under the brim of his cap. His umber brown irises reflect hints of a tawny, golden color in the light; one look into his eyes and you’re surrounded in their depth and wrapped up in warmth, like coming into a heated home after a frigid winter day.

Matching his pout with your own, he shakes your hand off with another huff, crossing his arms over his chest. His knees pull together, trapping yours with their effortless strength, years of multiple miles a day in basic training and deployment giving him thighs and calves as thick as tree trunks and virtually as strong as them. A breathy laugh leaves your lips, one hand further hiking your work bag on your shoulder.

“And how d’you think my boss would react to me skipping out on the deadline ‘cause my boyfriend needs to go pick out glasses?” One eyebrow arches in questioning, Frankie shifting on the couch and shrugging as he stands his ground. You know his play; he’s going to pout and say he won’t go unless you’re coming with — you’ve been reminding him constantly over the last week about this appointment, a follow-up to his bi-annual eye exam for his pilot license that he had the other day.

Lately, Frankie had been squinting a lot more, holding books close to his face when he was reading; you even caught him increasing the size of the text on his phone in order to read his messages. He definitely needed the exam, and you knew he was going to need glasses. He grumbled the whole time, avoiding making the appointment until the last possible minute and waving your concern off when he came home with the results.

He was farsighted, which is why he was usually fine while flying. Years of experience meant he knew exactly where the controls were, the blurring of his vision not necessarily deterring his abilities to fly. Clinging to the fact that he’s been fine for the past few months at work, Frankie was refusing the fact that he needed to get glasses. But since he has to submit his results, his hand has been forced to head into the optometrist’s office and pick out a pair.

Which is where you were supposed to come in. Frankie claimed he didn’t care about the look of them, asking you to tag along with him and select some for him. The logic was that “I’m only seeing through them, you’re the one who has to look at ‘em the most. Should be the one to like ‘em.”

“This is a life-changing decision! He should understand that,” his voice drops in volume, eyes flicking away from yours, “I don’t wanna pick out a pair that makes me look silly to you.”

“Oh, baby, I think you’d look cute in any pair of glasses. ‘Cause I think you’re cute.” Folding forward, you steal a quick kiss before standing straight again, lifting one of your legs up and over his knee to free yourself. “Really, Francisco, you would never look silly to me, and you need glasses to go to work. Gotta go get ‘em, baby.”

Another groan rings in your ears, and you roll your eyes at his overdramaticness. Pushing himself off the couch, he stands in front of you, a playful glare on his face, “You’re paying the out-of-pocket price if my insurance won’t let me change them when you hate them.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright. That’s not gonna happen. Now I have to go, and you have to leave for your appointment in an hour. I’m going to check your location, so don’t even think about skipping out,” you warn as you walk toward the front door, hearing him call out to you before you shut the door behind you.

“Tell your boss he’s a dick for makin’ you come in on your day off!”

The end of the day rolls around before you know it, and you’re more than eager to get home to see Frankie and his new glasses. Graciously, your boss told you to take tomorrow off instead, a relief settling in that you can actually enjoy a day with Frankie, who’s out of work until he gets his vision adjustments settled.

Excitement turns in your stomach when you park in the driveway of your shared house, following the path up to the front door of the bungalow and heading inside. Your shoes end up in a pile near the door and your bag ends up dropped next to them, bare feet padding across the tile floor.

Part of you, just a sliver, was feeling a bit anxious about Frankie’s choice. You genuinely meant you would love anything on him, but he’s been avoiding the task and trying to deflect it to you, which made you guess that the whole change had him feeling insecure. To you, there was nothing wrong with the addition to his look, but he must have been feeling much differently to be so worked up about the situation. In his world, surrounded by younger co-pilots and forced to disclose things like this in any applications or license renewals, you imagine it must be like showing up to elementary school or middle school as one of the few kids with braces or the butchered haircut your mom gave you in the bathroom the night before. Totally uncool.

You just wanted to hug the little, shy kid inside of Frankie; wrap him up, and tell him how much you love him and how cool you think he is. A kid like Frankie would’ve been your best friend when you were younger — he’s your best friend now.

“Frankie baby, where ya at?”

“Living room!”

Swerving from your direction toward the kitchen, you cross over into the living room, a wide and enthusiastic grin on your face as you anticipate what kind of glasses he chose. You’d been swarmed with text messages while he was at his appointment:

Are you sure you can’t take lunch now and come help me?

Way too many options here.

An older woman who works here is trying to help but I think she’s coming onto me…Please come over here baby!!

I feel like a dweeb in all of these.

Receiving the last one nearly made you pack up your things and rush over to help him, but with your boss breathing down your neck about a submission by the end of the day for this large project, you couldn’t sneak away. Instead, you sent reassurances, asking for photos but never receiving any from your boyfriend.

From where he sits on the couch, Frankie turns his hatless head away from the movie playing on the TV, sending a soft smile to you, “Hi, cariño. How was your day?”

No glasses.

God, you actually might kill him if he went through all of the theatrics only to come home empty-handed. Or empty-faced, more like it.

“My day was fine, but more importantly, how was your day? And why don’t I see glasses on your face?” you plop down on the couch next to him, body turned toward him while he continues to focus on the TV, humming dismissively.

“I got some. Jus’ don’t like wearing ‘em if I don’t have to,” he mumbles, sinking further into the couch cushions.

“Baby, you’re not going to get used to them if you don’t wear them regularly. Can’t be living in a blurry world.” Inching closer, you rest a hand on his thigh and the other cards through the curls at the nape of his neck, slowly turning his head to look at you, “I wanna see them. Please? Pretty please?”

Embraced again by those cocoa-brown eyes, this time filled with timidness and hooded with anxiety.

“I feel ridiculous in them. Like they make my ears stick out and they don’t fit under my cap and…they just look stupid on me.” His sentences mush together in his dejected tone, eyes falling from yours to stare at where his fingers are anxiously toying with the hem of your satin blouse.

The image of shy, little Frankie at school tugs on your heartstrings again; instead of showing your cards, you hide your anxieties with a soft, bright smile.

“Frankie, you could never look stupid to me. You never look stupid to anyone. Well, unless Pope’s around, but he can shove it.” That brings a subtle grin to his lips, a breathy of a single chuckle exhaling. “You are the most handsome to me, and a little pair of glasses isn’t going to change that. Can you please show them to me? I promise I’ll be honest, but I can guarantee that you think they are exponentially worse than what they are. Knowing how you are, they probably make you look hotter. Which, like, should be physically impossible, I mean look at you—”

“Alright, alright. I’ll show you the glasses. Quit makin’ me blush…” he scolds lightly, a smile playing at the corners of his lips and his dimple poking through on his cheek. You scoot back to allow him to get up off the couch, watching as he disappears down the hall to your bedroom and comes back a few seconds later, stopping right before he’s in view.

“Close your eyes.”

“Frankie, c’mon, I said—”

“Please?” His tone is so innocent, guileless in his clear nerves around you seeing him with the new accessory.

“Okay, they’re closed.” You confirm once you have shut your eyes, sitting up as you eagerly await. His steps grow louder and you can feel the couch sink when he sits back down again, shifting to cheat his body in your direction. A silent beat drums between you two before he clears his throat with a defeated sigh.

“Okay, you can look.”

Opening your eyes, the immediate reaction is to press your lips together, holding back the overexcitement about the new look to not startle Frankie. Circling your eyes over his face, you study the thick oaky frames that stand out from his strong features, complementing them with a statement of their own. Rounded square shapes hold the lenses, the bridge of them perched perfectly on his hooked nose. The arms of them extend back to his ears, and he was right, they do make the tops of his ears stick out minisculely. But most of that is covered by the way his dense curls flick out around the glasses, poking out in the most adorable way.

And of course, they do nothing but create the perfect perimeter around those beloved brown eyes, the curvature of the lenses making them appear just the slightest bit larger. More for you to stare into.

The lack of reaction as you take it all in has perturbed Frankie, a groan identical to his this morning rolling from his chest, “See I knew these were no good, I’m not wearing ‘em. I look silly.”

One of his hands lifts from his lap to grab for the frames, your own hand quick to intercept the motion. Quickly shaking your head, the words spill out to stop his spiraling, “No no no, absolutely not. You don’t look silly at all, baby…”

“But you don’t like them?”

“I love them. They’re exactly what I would’ve chosen for you myself. You look so handsome, my Frankie.” Without holding back anymore, a blinding smile lights up your face and you shift to your knees to crawl over and straddle his thighs. Your arms wrap around his neck, pressing yourself against him in a tight, squeezing hug. His own arms snake around your back, keeping you flush against him. The two of you sit in that embrace for a few moments, only pulling back a few inches to look at his face again. Delicately, you lift a finger to trace the shape of the glasses, grinning sweetly when your eyes focus back on his.

“You look hot. Like a sexy professor or like…a cool movie star.” Frankie laughs and shakes his head, fingertips tracing up and down your lower spine. “Can’t wait to christen the glasses. Kinda want you to keep ‘em on later tonight.”

Frankie’s head twists in curiosity, a smirk settling easily on his face, “That so? Guess it is going to be nice to see your face clearly again. Think that was my sole motivator for getting the damn things finally…” He grins when you laugh, pushing his lips out in a pucker and his eyes widen as a thought pops into his head. “Pretty sure they’ll get all fogged up when I’m between your le—”

“Oh my god, don’t even finish that sentence. The glasses come off when you’re doing that, Francisco.” You shove his shoulder gently and he laughs brightly, his eye glittering in the warm light behind his lenses. His hands at your back pull you in closer again, his nose nudging yours before he catches your lips in a soft, supple, slow kiss. The feeling of the plastic frames against your skin is foreign, but welcome.

“Love you, baby,” he whispers against your skin before he presses a kiss to the corner of your lips.

Leaning back again, his hands coast up and down your sides while you reply, “Love you too, Frankie. Glasses or no glasses.”

taglist: @northernbluess @atinylittlepain @swiftispunk @joelsversion @mrsquill @ilovepedro @lovers-liability @deathwife @undrthelights @atticrissfinch @casa-boiardi @wannab-urs @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @fishingforpike @msjarvis @walkintotheriveranddisappear @sugadolly @yazsos @peppesgirl @pastawench @addictedtotlou @anoverwhelmingdin @wolfbook87 @mswarriorbabe80 @harriedandharassed @decemberdolly @laiisleitte @fierce-bab @pertinentpostmortem @livingdeadmaria @bitchwitch1981 @its-nebuleuse @marini03 @piercethevic03 @joeandpedrosimp @kiwisbell @planet-marz1 @jrosie25 @vee-bees-blog @joelsflannel @k-k0129 @cartoon-garbage04 @nostalxgic

#writing #frankie #frankie morales fanfic #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie morales fic #frankie morales fanfiction #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfic

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ethereal27cereal · 2 years

Text

Curls - Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

part 2

summary: Eddie is getting ready to meet your parents for the first time after a year of dating. He is particularly nervous about impressing them, so you help him do his hair. And then help him relax a little 😉

warnings: smut 18+ MINORS DNI. established relationship, kissing, breast play, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (mention of birth control but still wrap it up and be safe 👍🏻), lots of sweet sappiness between Eddie and reader, reader has curly hair but it is not described in great detail, reader is implied as plus size but doesn’t have to be read that way, reader has relationship with both parents. I think that is it but let me know if I missed something.

genre: fluff, smut

word count: 4.9K

author’s note: I couldn’t get the idea out of my head about doing Eddie’s hair and so this just all kind of came rambling out. Any feedback is always appreciated 💕

may 1993

“You said I’m not supposed to brush it out when it’s dry, yeah?” Eddie asks, eyebrows scrunching together as he tries to remember your advice. He’d remembered the part about not washing his hair everyday, and has opted for just a quick shower, already dry and in his blue checkered boxers. But it is every other step that comes next that is making his palms sweat and doubt creep into his mind.

Eddie is normally pretty particular about his appearance, he has his set look and he feels like he does it well - ripped jeans, white Reeboks, a wide variety of metal band t-shirts, an assortment of rings and chains, topped off by his signature fluffy, long mane. But today is different.

He’s not just dressing to impress you, you always love the way he looks, but your parents…they might be a different story. Your parents are coming into town for the weekend and will finally get to meet Eddie after almost twelve months of dating. You can’t lie, you’re a bit nervous about introducing them to your long-haired, metal loving boyfriend, but Eddie looks like he could pass out every time you bring up the subject.

He has been fighting the urge to crawl out of his skin all week at the thought of meeting the people who are responsible for creating the woman he loves more than anything else in the world. And today is finally the day.

Eddie wants to look nice, maybe not suit and tie nice, but he definitely went out to buy a neat looking button down and a pair of unripped jeans at the last minute because nothing in his closet seemed appropriate enough to impress your parents. He wants you to be proud of him, proud to show him off, and he wants your parents not to curse his name and banish him from their existence when he tells them he’s planning on proposing to you.

So he will do his hair, put on clothes that make him feel like he might suffocate, and put on his warmest smile to impress what he hopes are his future in-laws.

He hesitates before grabbing the hairbrush off the counter and turns toward you, freshly clean and dripping wet as you step out of the shower. Even after nearly a year together, Eddie still has to steady his racing thoughts and keep himself from gaping at your naked form. His eyes trace a path up and down your body, drinking in all the delicious curves he feels lucky to have become so intimately familiar with.

Before answering, you bend down, abundant rounded breasts swaying slightly as you shift from side to side to begin forming the ringlets of your own curls, a cascade of water droplets darting out to hit his bare chest. Years of practice allow you to make quick work of the ringlets, looping them into place deftly before scrunching over them with a light layer of gel.

“Yeah, only brush it when it’s wet. You’ll lose the curl definition and maybe damage your curls if you’re dry brushing a lot,” you remind him sweetly before continuing on with your routine.

Eddie gapes, mesmerized at the process as you swing your hair from side to side, tummy and breasts jiggling temptingly as you move about. You twirl a few errant curls around your fingers and gaze at yourself in the mirror, smirking as you catch him staring in the reflection. Satisfied with your mane, you reach to grab your towel and roughly run it over your arms before bringing one foot up on the edge of the tub to dry your legs.

Eddie watches intently as you rub the plush warm towel over your body, moving down your chest and over your tummy to your legs. The way the swell of your breasts rests against the gentle rolls of your belly has his cock stirring against the pilled cotton of his boxers. He tries to tamp down the feelings, but the nerves make him needy and he wants the comfort that can only come from your touch.

“Let me help you with that,” Eddie smirks with his quick suggestion, replacing your hands with his own as he brings the towel up from your legs and to your breasts. You roll your eyes playfully, but can never really deny him and his pretty persistent desires to touch you.

His chocolatey brown eyes glow as he gently squeezes and massages both of your tits, clearly not with the intent of actually drying you off. With a skillful familiarity, he pinches and tweaks your nipples through the thick cotton, making your knees momentarily wobble and you find yourself biting your lip to keep yourself from moaning. He gives you a cocky smirk before pulling his hands and the towel away.

“Gotta check and see if they’re dry,” he insists, his needy hands now palming around the full weight of your breasts and heaving them upwards and together, creating one of his favorite sights in the world. A pleased hum rumbles from the back of his throat and he dips his head down to place a tender kiss to the petal soft flesh on the top of your breasts.

“Hmm, still a little wet I think,” Eddie proposes, quirking his eyebrows at you as he grabs for the towel again. Your breath hitches in anticipation as Eddie lifts one breast at a time and gently swipes the towel under each ample globe.

He drops the towel to the floor between your feet, but his hand doesn’t leave your chest, still offering teasing squeezes to each breast. With a sudden molten look in his eyes, his head drops back down to your tits, tenderly tugging your peaked nipple in between his teeth. Mewling moans and sighs freely escape your lips as he lavishes you with attention, sucking and swirling his tongue around the aching bud.

Your tummy flutters wildly and a growing heat begins to coil in your core when he releases your nipple from his mouth with a wet pop and moves further up your pillowy breast, leaving soft lilac bruises in his wake. He sets in on devouring you with a growl, strong arms snaking around your soft waist when your knees finally do fully buckle and you melt against his chest.

“Eddie,” his name comes out as a breathy moan from your lips.

“Mmm, you taste so good baby, I need you,” his words blow warm against the column of your throat and it takes everything in you not to give yourself fully to him, right then and there against the bathroom sink.

“Eddie, we can’t. We gotta get ready, I don’t want to be late,” you sigh, tugging slightly at his curls to pull him away from your neck. He moves away, scowling at his sudden eviction, but his hands stay firmly gripped around your waist, holding you to him.

“Fine. But help me do my hair, please. I don’t have it down quite as well as you do,” he relents with a sigh, placing a lingering kiss on your cheek. “Lemme just wet it first, I guess,” Eddie turns toward the sink and begins to run the water, dipping his head down to dunk it underneath the stream.

“Hey, whoa, let’s maybe use the spray bottle. The bathroom is going to be a sopping wet mess that way,” you suggest with a laugh, pulling him away from the sink and ushering him toward the closed toilet to sit down. You pull out your spray bottle, special brush, and detangler spray, ready to make some magic with Eddie’s curly mane.

“The spray bottle always makes me feel like I’ve been bad and I’m getting scolded,” his expression turns into a grimace and he cringes away from the misting spray.

“Some dark secrets coming out here, my love, did you get scolded with a spray bottle, Eddie?” you ask with an incredulous laugh, pausing your hand that is on the spray bottle.

“I mean, if I was being super naughty…” he begins with a sheepish grin.

“Which you often are…” you conclude playfully, but nod for him to finish his story.

“Uncle Wayne had one to use on the stray cats around the trailer park. We liked to feed them and watch them play around, but sometimes they would get a little feisty and try to fight each other. So he always had his handy dandy spray bottle in case he had to break up a fight,” he recounts thoughtfully, a boyish beaming smile plastered to his face.

“And if I was ever being too feisty and trying to get into fights, or just especially pissing him off, he had no qualms about spraying me right in the face with that spray bottle. He got me right in the eye one time,” Eddie chuckles and looks up at you, honest brown eyes searching your expression.

“Honestly, seems like a pretty good method for keeping you in line, Munson,” you smirk, holding the spray bottle somewhat threateningly in front of him.

“Ahhh no, please,” he whines in protest and waves a dramatic hand in front of him, tilting back away from you.

“Don’t worry, I won’t. I have other ways of making you behave,” you tease, suggestively waving your tits in his face as you begin to lightly mist the back of his head. With a happy grumble, he buries his face in your breasts, using his hands to mush them together around his cheeks. He inhales deeply before pulling his face away from the soft pillowy flesh, the scent of your body wash and your naturally sweet smell lingering in his nostrils.

“I think I like your way of making me behave better,” Eddie nods thoughtfully, settling into position as you begin to spray his curls again. You carefully cover his face with your palm as you mist his feathery bangs. He blindly reaches out to flick on the boombox and turns the track to your latest favorite, and even though it isn’t metal, it has become one of his favorites just because of how much you love it.

Dolores O’Riordan’s lilting voice echoes through the small bathroom as you bop along to the ringing guitars in the intro of Dreams, and Eddie can’t help but smile. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he would be sitting in a bathroom, listening to The Cranberries, and getting his hair finger curled by the naked woman he is madly in love with. Your sweet hesitant voice begins to sing along, just barely above a whisper, but Eddie trains his ear to listen to every word.

And now I tell you openly

You have my heart so don't hurt me

You're what I couldn't find

A totally amazing mind

So understanding and so kind

You're everything to me

Eddie feels his chest clench and tighten at the lyrics, biting back the lump that was forming in his throat. He knows he’s being a bit silly and dramatic, but the words feel like they’re meant for him, for you, for your relationship together.

His life hasn’t been easy, he doesn’t complain often, but it has made him hard around the edges. But ever since you have come into his life, everything is softness. Your touch, your heart, your smile, your words, your body. Like being wrapped in a plush warm blanket after a long draining day, the feeling of coming home. You are soft, pillowy, and welcoming. And it makes all of the hardness and bitterness inside him weaken, leaving only softness and warmth behind.

You have made quick work of his curls, lightly brushing out the knots as you sing along. You sway to the rhythm while finger coiling some face framing pieces, pausing suddenly when you notice the gentle wobbling of Eddie’s chin as he ducks his head and tries to swipe away a stray tear.

“Hey, what’s up buttercup?” you sooth, setting down your brush and lifting his chin to look at you. His chocolate eyes are brimmed with tears waiting to fall, his pink cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he tries to hide.

“Nothing, it’s dumb, I’m just being dumb,” Eddie swallows harshly and forces a thin smile.

“Nuh uh, don’t talk about my handsome boyfriend like that. You’re not being dumb and whatever you are crying about is certainly not dumb,” you reassure sweetly, tenderly cupping his cheeks in your hands.

“I..I…think I’m just really fucking stressed. With working so much lately and your parents coming into town, I think I just am really worried,” Eddie begins, his voice cracking with every other word.

“Worried about what?,” you ask innocently, trying not to think too hard about the ring box you found in his jeans pocket when doing laundry last week. You try to fix your face into a look of oblivious concern, just in case your expressions betray you.

“I want your parents to like me, and think I’m good enough for you. And don’t start saying ‘of course they will’. You have everything in your life all figured out, and I don’t feel like I have much going on to offer you, especially on just my lousy mechanics salary. I know you don’t think of it that way, but I just want you to be proud of me and not feel ashamed of introducing me to your parents,” he finishes with a choked sound, and begins chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“Eddie, my love, I am immensely proud of you! I brag about you, your band, all of the accomplishments you’ve made at the shop with your promotion, and pretty much everything about you to just about everyone I meet. And that includes my parents. They already know all about you, and already love you because I love you,” you insist, petting his bangs out of his eyes and whisking away a few more tears that threaten to fall from his lashes. He gazes up, nodding solemnly, but unable to form words that would even come close to an appropriate response to your endless kindness and support.

“What can I do to help? We have about..30 more minutes before we have to leave, do you need cuddles?” you coo, a hint of condescension creeping into your voice as you see him perk up and begin to lick his lips in anticipation. He peeks up at you through his thick lashes, plump lips turned down in a frown for extra dramatic effect.

“Not just cuddles, sweetheart, I need you. I need to be inside you,” he pouts, hands coming up to rest on the swell off your ass, squeezing and testing the fullness of both cheeks. You nod, biting your lip seductively as you pull him up to stand with you. With a strangled moan, Eddie’s lips are crashing against yours, biting and licking with an insatiable need that makes your heart stutter in your chest.

He begins to guide you backwards toward your shared bedroom, using your butt to steer you away from walls and other sharp furniture. The backs of your knees bump against the bed, and in one swift motion, Eddie tosses you up onto the mattress with a pillowy plop. Despite his slight frame, sinewy muscles lurk beneath his pale skin and he doesn’t seem to expend any significant effort as he tugs you further up the bed so your head is resting against the soft downy pillows.

Eddie settles back into the kiss, making a sloppy claim on your mouth before raining a million wet kisses down your body. His touch is needy and hungry, anything but patient as he leaves hasty bites against the swell of your breasts, grabbing hands spreading your legs wide as he dips his head down further. Out of habit, you go to tangle your fingers into his hair, guiding his kisses where you need him most, but stop suddenly when you see the fresh delicate ringlets in your fingertips.

“Wait, baby, I’m going to fuck up your hair if you do that right now. Later. I need you to…” you try to finish your thoughts before he flicks his tongue teasingly against your clit, words dissolving into a breathy gasp as you impulsively arch up against his tongue.

“Mmm, what do you need, princess? Tell me what you need,” Eddie growls against your heat, licking a teasing stripe up your slit before looking up into your eyes for an answer, smoldering pools of burnt caramel gazing at you intently.

“Fuck, Eddie…I need…I need you to fill me up, please,” you pant breathlessly, fingers flexing and gripping the sheets so you don’t mess up his curls.

“With my fingers…?” he wiggles a teasing digit inside, your walls immediately spasm and clench around his finger with frantic need, tossing your head back into the pillow without a care for your own wet curls.

“Or does this tight little pussy need more?” he asks with a sly grin, suddenly pulling his finger from your wetness and dipping it in his mouth. “Fuck, sweetheart, you taste so good,” he hums as he pops his pointer finger out of his lips and crawls up from between your thighs.

“Eddie, please, I need you to fuck me, now,” you huff and whine, pulling him back up to eye level with you.

“Jeez, lovey, somebody sure is needy. And you act like I’m the sex crazed one around h…” he begins teasingly, but is cut off with a choked groan as you reach down to wrap your hand around his cock. You guide his swollen tip through your silky folds, both of you shaking in anticipation before he plunges in. His lips immediately find yours again, gasps and moans overflowing between your lips when he buries himself deep inside your molten core.

He steadies himself for a moment, letting you throb and flex around him while you adjust to the delicious sting of being so filled by him. Your hands grip wildly at his shoulders and you kiss a frantic path across the small portion of his chest, biting at the skull and spider inked against his collarbone.

“Christ you feel so fucking amazing, so tight and wet for me,” his voice shakes as he begins to set a steady pace. Slowly pumping his thick length all the way in and drawing back out in a dizzying rhythm that has you almost immediately seeing stars. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to focus on lasting more than a few moments despite the blooming heat beginning to rise in your tummy and take over. Yours and Eddie’s moans and sighs along with the filthy slapping sounds of sex fills the room, and your sounds only become more unabashedly loud when he snakes a hand in between your bodies to rub against your sensitive clit.

Your ears ring and your legs begin to tremble, your release boiling and bubbling in your core, ready to explode. You babble incoherently, something about being close and not wanting it to be over yet, not sure any of that comes out as intelligible words until Eddie responds.

“That’s alright, come for me my love, I want to feel you cum all over my cock,” he coos, calloused thumb pressing delicate circles against your clit and you feel yourself unwind. With a strangled scream, your body is shaking, inner walls fluttering wildly around his girth. “That’s it, that’s my pretty girl. Such a good girl coming so hard for me,” his voice is intoxicatingly deep, filled with heat and desire as he watches you unravel at his touch.

Before your vision fully clouds over, your eyes flicker open, needing to look up at the love of your life. Eddie is gazing down at you, chocolate brown eyes blown into inky pools full of love, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration as he tries to keep a steady pace with you writhing underneath him. You reach up to cup his cheek, whispering a breathy ‘I love you’ as you begin to slowly come back to your senses.

“Christ, sweetheart, I love you too, but you’re driving me crazy. I can still taste you on my lips and I need to be down there so fucking bad right now,” Eddie groans and suddenly pulls out of you, leaving you with an empty throbbing feeling as you reach to bring him back to you. But he’s already down with his face in between your legs, strong hands pushing your thighs down to the mattress so you’re well out of his way. He gently tucks the stray curls framing his face behind his ears and gives you a sheepish grin.

“You’re going to hold my hands so you’re not tempted to mess up my hair, but I’m going to make you come on my tongue. And if that makes us late, then so be it,” he affirms and reaches up to tangle his fingers in yours, holding them firmly against your still wobbly thighs.

Without another word, he dives in, licking and sucking your sensitive folds. His movements are frenzied and hungry, determined to consume every bit of you like a man starved. He sucks and nips harshly at your clit, before slithering his tongue downward to delve inside your quivering hole. He sets a punishing rhythm, knowing just exactly where to lick and kiss to make you a whimpering mess.

Within a skillfully short amount of time, he brings you back to the edge again. You buck your hips against his tongue and lips, trying to fight your way towards release as the crushing pressure is building in your belly once again. He steadies you with your intertwined fingers, keeping you from floating away and losing your mind.

“Just let go, my love, I know you’re right there. I can feel it. Just let go for me,” he purrs in between sloppy licks and kisses to your folds, tugging them in his lips before releasing the petal like flesh with a pop. With another high pitched moan, you’re tumbling into the precipice of your orgasm. Your body courses with electricity as he delivers a few more harsh kisses to your overly sensitive bud and you fight and writhe to release your hands from his to grab at him. But he doesn’t let you. He keeps your hands tangled with his in a gentle firmness that leaves you feeling even more weak and lightheaded.

Before you’ve had a chance to catch your breath, he’s back up on his knees, pulling you by your hips to meet him and sliding a pillow under your butt for added support. Eddie thrusts his cock back inside you with a chesty groan, head lolling back against his shoulders as he hits against your spongy soft center. He pounds into you with the same intensity and hunger he had when he’d tasted you, relentless and needy to fill you up and feel you all around him. Eddie’s eyes never leave your face as he reaches up to play with your breasts, a whimpered sigh leaving his lips as he pinches your pebbled peak between his thumb and forefinger.

You suddenly feel overwhelmed with it all, his intense gaze seeing you, all of you, the love that burns where your bodies meet, and another orgasm slowly winding a tight coil in your core. You clench your eyes tight again and throw an arm over your face, trying to hide from the gut wrenching intimacy that happens every time you’re with Eddie like this.

“Look at me, sweetheart, please, I want to see you when I come,” he gently pulls your arm away from your face, lacing your fingers together and rubbing a comforting pattern on the back of your hand as he urges you to open your eyes. Despite your heavy lids and burning cheeks, you open your eyes, met with his sweet beaming smile.

“There you are, my love. So beautiful, so fucking beautiful,” he whispers, his face pinching in pleasure as you clench involuntarily around him.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come so hard,” he warns shakily, gasping and panting but still never looking away from you. You nod in response to his warning, pressing him on with a whimpered ‘please’ as you feel your own release finally creeping over you. A third flash of pleasure seeps into your veins and you throb weakly around his thrusting cock, sending him over to his own release.

Eddie rattles off a string of babbled praises, your name and words of unending love leaving his lips as he pumps you full of his seed. He shutters and you feel a final warm surge of his climax spurt into you, coating your walls and marking you as his. The thought of anyone having that kind of claim over you would’ve made you sick in the past, too possessive and all encompassing. But with Eddie, that’s all you wanted. To be his and for him to be yours.

“You are so gorgeous like this, well I mean, you are gorgeous all the time. But god, when I come inside you and I look down and there you are, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, I feel like I’m losing my fucking mind,” he confesses with a babbling sincerity that you will never ever grow tired of. You blush and hide your eyes behind your fingers, peeking through them to see him grinning at you.

“I love you so much,” he sighs, resting his hands on the slope of your hips as he grows soft inside you.

“I love you so much, Eddie,” you smile, reaching down to squeeze his fingers gently.

With a hiss, he pulls out of you, propping himself up on his elbow to watch his cum slowly slide out of you. Eddie smirks and in tenderly possessive motion, he pools the release in his fingers and pushes it back inside you.

“That belongs in there,” he tsks, booping your clit with his pointer finger before sitting up with a grin plastered on his face.

“I mean, my handy dandy birth control is going to say otherwise but…” you reply with a chuckle, sitting up on shaky elbows to look at him. He shakes his head and shrugs, curls bouncing around his pretty face.

“I just want you to remember who came inside you and made you come three fucking times while we’re sitting there with your parents and they’re grilling me about my intentions with their daughter,” he concludes, hopping up from the bed and pulling on his boxers.

“So that was your little plan? Remind me how much you’re worth keeping around with how hard and fast you can get me off just in case tonight goes south?” you guffaw, knowing that wasn’t truly his plan, but ribbing him nonetheless. You stand up from the bed, and immediately buckle. He holds out a hand as your wobbly knees threaten you again, but you manage to steady yourself against him.

“Well, I mean it’s true. I do make you come,” he pecks a cheeky kiss against your lips, “a lot. And I do want to remind you of that. All the time. But I just needed you. And hey look, we aren’t even going to be late,” he points out happily, gesturing towards the glowing red alarm clock on your bedside.

You weren’t going to be late, but you both definitely need to hurry to dress and get out the door. With nimble fingers, you help Eddie button his shirt, smoothing over the soft wrinkles that he had neglected to press out. You toss on your dress, settling for something simple but classic paired with a dainty set of opal earrings Eddie had gifted you for your birthday.

Eddie sighs, finally dry curls bobbing around his face as he gazes into the full length mirror, no ripped jeans, no band t-shirt, no rings or chains, dressed head to toe in an outfit that makes him look like a schoolboy. He frowns at his appearance, trying to hide his expression when he sees you peer over his shoulder.

“You look great, but you don’t look like you,” you ponder, scurrying away to grab a few things off his dresser, the heavy objects clinking in your palm as you bounce back to him.

You slip behind him, securing his signature chain with a guitar pick around his throat before slithering around to his front to undo a few shirt buttons, framing the glittering chain against his pale collarbones. You grab his left hand, slipping on the grinning skull, pig, and cross in a neat row on his pointer, middle, and ring fingers respectively. With a tender motion, you slip his bejeweled class ring on the ring finger of his right hand.

You step back, admiring your handiwork before lightly fluffing your fingers through his curls. Eddie practically glows under your gaze, soft wavy ringlets haloed around his head, ochre eyes shining with fear, hope, and love.

“There, much better. Still the Eddie I know and love but with a twist,” you beam up at him before grabbing his shaking hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. He nods and puffs out his cheeks with a great sigh.

“Ready?” you ask, leading him slowly toward the front door.

“Ready.”

Little taglist of people who I thought might want to read: @boomhauer @wtf-lindsay @seidenbros @thisishellfire @wroteclassicaly @a-time-for-wolvess @kissmecaiti

#eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #joesph quinn #joe quinn

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stvharrngton · 1 year

Text

dizzy

a/n: i know obsessed we all are with this guys chest so i thought i’d write something about it. do not @ me for this pls 🤡

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: smut, 18+ minors dni, chest riding, masturbation, spanking, praise, dirty talk

taglist: @sweetiestevie @dukesmebby @sw34terw34ther @sweetbabygirlsworld

You weren’t sure how you ended up here. Sat in Steve’s lap in nothing but your underwear and him still in his jeans. Your eyes glued to his chest, the thick thatch of hair that decorated his pecs and travelled down to his stomach.

Ever since Steve had decided to let his chest hair grow out, you had been nothing short of obsessed. Loving how it would peak out of his shirts when the neckline was a little low. You’d love to run your fingers through it at night when you were tangled beneath the sheets, raking your nails through the coarse, dark hair.

The proposition felt like a dream, something far away in a secluded fantasy you only thought about when you were alone, when Steve wasn’t there to help get you off. But you couldn’t help it, staring, mouth-watering, every time he would remove his shirt for whatever reason.

How could he blame you? Surely anyone would want to know what it felt like to have their pussy rutting against Steve’s chest.

But oh, it was very much real.

“Baby?” Steve spoke softly, voice like velvet, “You okay? Did you hear me?” He’d asked from beneath you, eyebrows pinched together in concern.

“Yeah, uh—I did, I just…” you stuttered, cheeks heating up, “you don’t think it’s weird? And how did you know?” Your fingers came to mess with the belt loops of his jeans.

“Weird? No,” Steve began, fingers hooking under your chin to bring your gaze back to him, “Dirty? Fuck yes.” He said with a chuckle, the bulge in his jeans evident against your crotch, “Besides, baby, I know you and I see how you stare and your thighs clench whenever I take my shirt off,” Steve let his fingers wander down your body, ghosting over your tits with a smirk, “and I’ll try anything if it means I get to hear those pretty sounds when you cum.”

You keened at his words, a gentle nod in response. Steve’s words of reassurance went straight to your core. That, and what you were about to do had you reeling towards the edge.

“Come on, don’t get all shy on me now,” Steve’s fingers gripped your thighs, the pads of his fingers pressing into the soft skin, “come sit that pretty pussy on my chest and show me how bad you wanna fuck yourself on me.”

A breath hitched in your throat, a lump swallowed. The wet spot on your panties told you that you wanted this badly. So you manoeuvred yourself to straddle Steve’s firm chest, the boy coming to help you out as he tugged your underwear to the side, helping you settle your dripping cunt over his pec.

You let out a shaky breath as the thick, coarse hair connected with your clit. Steve held his hands out for you, lacing his fingers between your own to give you some balance. You began to roll your hips over him gently, softly, searching for a pace that gave you that warm feeling.

Steve watched you in awe as your eyes fluttered closed, your jaw slack and mouth hanging agape. You seemed to have found a rhythm, sweet little moans escaping your lips with every drag of your hips. Steve squeezed your hands in his encouragingly, loving the way your face was blissed out in pleasure.

“Does that feel good, baby?” He cooed, tone sweet and dripping with honey, “Doing such a good job—fuck, you’re so wet.”

Steve moved his gaze down to where your pussy dragged over his chest, your slick leaking all over him, the ringlets of coarse hair matted together by your wetness. Eyes focused as his jaw went slack, cock rock hard beneath his jeans as a pretty moan tumbled past your lips.

Your features were contorted in pleasure, brows pinched together and eyes squeezed shut. Your hips moved faster now, a circular motion in a dirty grind over the boy’s chest, your clit throbbing and aching.

“Steve,” you whined, one hand still clasped in his own, the other came free to toy with your tits. Your small hands groping the soft flesh, rolling your nipple between your finger and thumb. A loud groan emanating from your throat as your clit caught on a thick patch of his chest hair.

Steve smirked below you, his free hand coming to squeeze at your ass, “Oh, that’s it, baby,” he cooed, palm delivering a gentle slap to the flesh of your backside, “there you go, feels good? Tell me.”

“S’good, so good, Stevie,” you wailed, as your hips rutted over Steve’s nipple, your clit catching on the pert bud, “fu-uck!”

A loud high-pitched keen fell from Steve’s lips, his eyes wide and hazy. Jaw slack as he peered up at you from below his lashes, almost as if he didn’t expect that to feel as good as it did.

“Baby, fuck, can you–can you do that again?” Steve blinked up at you with wide eyes as you managed a nod in your fucked-out state. Your hands came to grip the headboard as you angled your hips just right, your pussy rolling over Steve’s nipple again and again.

“Oh, fuck, yeah, fuckfuckfuck,” he whined, raspy and a little breathless, “that feels fucking amazing, shit–keep going.” Steve muttered as he bucked his hips behind you, hand reaching around you to pop the button of his jeans and release his cock from its confines.

You were almost too lost in your own pleasure to notice what Steve was doing behind you, a single glance to his face told you everything. Steve was in his own world, pretty pink lips parted so his breathy moans could spill out, his features relaxed and pent up all at the same time.

Fingers wrapped around his aching cock behind you, stroking gently, as if to almost tease himself the way you would. The scene before him is so hot and dirty, your slick leaking all over him, sweet gasps and whimpers tumbling from your plush lips. Every sound going straight to Steve’s throbbing length.

Bottom lip stuck between your teeth, you shifted your hips so you could angle yourself backwards, hands resting against Steve’s stomach as you thrusted your pussy faster over him. The sensation of the coarse hair brushing against your folds drove you crazy, eyes heavy as you felt the familiar feeling poole in your lower stomach.

Steve worked his cock faster now, hips fucking himself up into his own fist as he cooed encouragement up at you, “Y’gonna cum, pretty? Come on, baby, make a mess all over my chest, that’s it.”

You keened above him, a high-pitched whine as Steve pressed his thumb into your clit as you continued to fuck yourself on him. Your stomach clenched as your thighs shook, electricity rolling throughout your body as the beginnings of your orgasm washed over you. Steve was a mess below you, hair wild and utterly fucked out. Fingers squeezing the angry tip of his cock as he tugged on the shaft fast and hard, pre-cum leaking over his fist.

“Come on, pretty girl, doing so well fucking yourself on me. Such a good girl f’me.” Steve moaned. The pet name and his words of praise finally sent you crashing over the edge, hips stuttering over him as you came. His name left your lips like a chant as you clutched the headboard, nails raking through the hard wood.

“Fuck, Steve, I–” you whined as you panted, clit throbbing from the stimulation.

“I’m right there, baby, fuck–I’m gonna–” Steve cut himself off with his own moan, the precipice of his climax within touching distance. With one last stroke of his cock, Steve was gone. Ropes of hot cum painted his stomach as he came undone. A mix of moans and curse words leaving his lips as his brows pinched together in pleasure.

You both took a minute to catch your breath as your chests heaved, sweat collecting on your brows and dewy skin shone in the light of your bedroom. You rolled off your boyfriend as you collapsed into the space next to him on the bed.

“That,” he started, breaths still heavy, “was fucking amazing.” He finished with a chuckle as he peered over you, his fingers pushing the hair from his eyes.

“Yeah?” You asked timidly, a soft smile tugging at your lips.

“Yeah,” Steve said with a nod, teeth flashing in a grin, “c’mere.”

Wrapping his arms around you he pulled you into his side, you spoke once more, “Steve? You know you can never shave your chest ever again now, right?”

Steve boasted a laugh that shook his stomach and chest, his eyes flashing a knowing glint as he answered, “Wouldn’t dream of it, baby.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington oneshot #stranger things smut #stranger things fanfiction #k.fic #DONT @ ME PLS #old money!steve is next btw #i was listening to fuzzy by waterparks when i uploaded this and the urge to name it that was too much

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hihomeghere · 1 month

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Gloves | John Marston / Reader

Word count : 2.2k Summary : John goes crazy over you dressed up for a job, more specifically your white gloves Warnings/tags : cursing, blow job, piv, creampie, cowgirl, reader is female

John felt like a damn fool. His hungry eyes followed you around camp. It’s not like you’re walking around in your bloomers for god's sake. You’re fully covered, other than your shoulders, the sleeves of your dress resting on your biceps. You were getting ready to go on a job with Hosea, a rich dinner party he somehow weaseled his way into.

You were the best pickpocket in the gang, the best woman pickpocket anyway. You were acting as Hosea’s daughter, a debutante.

And shit you were playing the part. You were gorgeous, looking like a lady of high society. Part of him wondered if you could have had the life you were pretending to have. If you hadn’t fallen in with the gang, maybe you’d have gotten adopted by some rich folks. Instead of sleeping on cots you’d have a soft warm bed, maybe even servants to look after your needs. These thoughts cause a knot to form in his stomach, knowing he could never give you that life. The soft ringlets Mary Beth had styled fell down your shoulders gracefully as you walked towards the coach.

And those white gloves. Those damned white gloves.

They were only gloves for Christsake, they weren’t anything special. But he couldn’t help the tent growing in his jeans, he was sure there would be a permanent dent in them once he got them off. His face was burning, his eyes glancing around camp making sure no one noticed his… condition.

You were so elegant, pure. He wanted to ruin you, devour you, make you scream and cry under him. He ran his hand through his hair, he needed to get a hold of himself. You were his partner, not some doe eyed socialite. Although you did play the part well.

“Oh Marston.” You called, your hand on your hip as you stood in front of the stagecoach. That corset Tilly had squeezed you into was doing wonders for your silhouette, although he knew it must be uncomfortable. He got up, quickly adjusting himself before walking over to you. “Won’t you help a lady into her coach?” You asked in a soft voice, an air of sophistication in your tone.

“Now I don’t think you would qualify as a lady.” He teased, his eyes raking over you. You could feel the heat from his stare, washing over you in waves.

“Just help me in.” You said, raising an eyebrow, offering your hand to him, your other lifting up the edge of your dress.

Christ Almighty. John gulped, taking your dainty gloved hand in his own, the silky fabric soft against his calloused hands. “Thank you sir.” You giggled sitting down in the coach, leaning out of the window to press your lips against his scarred cheek. He covered up his breath hitching with a cough, nodding as he stepped back from the coach.

“You stay safe now.” He said putting his hands on his hips, not daring another glance lest he blow his load right here.

“Always am.” You chuckled as Hosea moved past John, sitting across from you.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on her.” He teased smirking at you.

“I know.” He nodded, turning on his heel and walking back to his tent.

You and Hosea returned to camp with your pockets full. A successful haul between the two of you.

“Always a pleasure to work with you, miss Y/n.” Hosea said, helping you out of the coach. A broad smile splitting his face. “I’d have to say the same, Mr. Matthews.” You chuckled, letting out a small sigh as you stretched your back. Your eyes scanned the camp, looking for a certain member of the gang.

You hadn’t been able to get him off your mind all night. Wishing he was the one taking you to a stupid frilly party. The amount of times you had imagined him whisking you off to one of the private rooms. Especially after the look he gave you before you left with Hosea.

You could see John standing by your shared tent, his eyes just as dark and lustful as they were when you left.

“Hey there.” You smirked walking over to him, wrapping your arms sweetly around his neck. His breath hitched in his throat, you raised your eyebrow inquisitively, a small smirk on your lips.

“I missed ya,” He mumbled, with a small shrug, his eyes looking everywhere but your own.

“I wasn’t gone that long.” You chuckled, your white gloves threading through his hair. He let out a low groan as you tugged lightly at his raven locks.

“Corset bothering you?” He asked breathlessly, his hand trailing up your back.

“A little.” You nodded, seeing through his fake concern.

“Let me help you, yeah?” He asked so sweetly, turning you around in his grasp. His hand never strayed from your lower back as he led you into the tent, pulling the canvas flaps down.

You smirked, knowing exactly where this was headed. He would lay you down on the cot, slot his head between your thighs until you were crying out for him. Then, and only then, would he finally relent. Giving you exactly what you needed.

You didn’t know whether it was the adrenaline from the successful haul, or the way he had been eyeing you. Either way, you were practically drooling at the thought of his cock. You wanted- no needed to suck it. You turned in his grasp, before his deft fingers could pull free the laces from their knot. You pushed him back onto his cot, the back of his knees hitting the edge. He sat, looking up at you with his crooked, almost nervous, smile.

“Whatchu think you’re doing?” He asked, lowering his voice.

“Taking care of you, Marston.” You cooed, your hands gripping his thighs. He let out a shaky breath as you lowered yourself to your knees. You made sure to move your dress, as to not get it dirty. It was a beautiful gown, you didn’t want to tarnish it. Your knees hit the boar skin rug as you looked up at John. His boyish grin was long gone, replaced by the smirk of a hungry wolf.

You moved to take off your gloves before he stopped you.

“Those stay on.” He whispered, his eyes boring into yours.

“Yes sir.” You said softly, wetting your lips. You moved your hands to his belt, the buckle clinking as you threw it aside. His breath hitching as your hand brushed against his hardened bulge. You raised your eyes to meet his, feigning innocence as long as you could. You unbuttoned his pants pulling him out of his work jeans. His cock bounced against his stomach, he hissed in pleasure as you grasped him in your hand. His hands gripped the sides of the cot, already so sensitive when you had barely touched him.

“Let me take care of you cowboy.” You chuckled. He rolled his eyes at the tease before they went wide as you spread his precum over his head, effectively ruining your white gloves.

“Fuck darlin-“ He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as he lets out a shaky breath.

“Feel good honey?” You whispered, your eyes flicking back up to him.

“Real good, feels real good.” He mumbled, his tongue wetting his lips.

You smirk, licking a stripe up the underside of his cock. His eyes nearly bulge out of his head as he looks down at you, biting his lip to try and keep quiet. You lick the tip, swirling your tongue around before diving into the slit on his head.

“Fuck-“ He groaned, his hand coming to the back of your head. Gripping your hair tightly at the base of your skull. You grinned as you took him into your mouth, breathing slowly out your nose as you slid down. “Christ uh-“ He moaned as his head hit the back of your throat. Whatever you couldn’t take in your mouth you wrapped your hands around. You started bobbing your head, hollowing out your cheeks as John made the foulest noises you had ever heard. He was trembling under you, his hands twitching against the cot. His hips stuttered up into your mouth, making you gag around his cock, an obscene sound.

“Shit- sorry darlin-“ He whispered, you swallowed around him, your throat constricting around his cock. You pulled off of him with a wet pop, smiling up at him.

This was more like it, he loved that sweet ‘pure’ side you fronted, but this was who you truly were. A surge of pride ran through his chest, knowing he was the only one who got to see you like this. Your pupils blown with lust, precum and spittle dripping down your chin. He gathered the liquid onto his thumb, swiping it off of your chin. Your mouth opened obediently, taking his thumb in your mouth and sucking, hard.

“Gonna kill me one day, darlin’.” He choked, his jaw hanging open as he stared down at you.

“Oh I ain’t done yet.” You smirked standing up, you hooked your fingers in the waist band on your bloomers pulling them down. “I’m an honest girl, I wouldn’t leave you high and dry.” You lifted up the front of your dress, showing your bare mound off to John. His hands immediately flew to your waist, pulling you forward onto his lap. You bit your lip, batting your eyelashes at him as you rubbed yourself against him. The head of his dick catching your clit as you let out a low moan.

“Stop teasin’ woman.” John grunts, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you were sure they’d leave bruises. You smirked, raising yourself off his lap. You reached between the two of you, positioning his cock against your entrance. You lowered yourself slowly, feeling each and every inch until you were flush with his pelvis. You both let out soft moans as you sank down on him.

You started to move, grinding your hips into his, your clit brushing up against his pubic hair. Eliciting a high pitched whine from your mouth.

“Shit darlin-“ John choked, his hands fisting in the fabric of your dress.

You began to bounce on his cock, John’s hands moved to your ass, his fingers dimpling the flesh of your cheeks.

“Who’s ngh the cowboy now?” He whispered breathlessly, a satisfied smirk on his lips. Your legs were shaking as you continued to ride him, his hips raising to meet every one of your thrusts.

“Mmm John.” You hummed, biting your lip to keep quiet.

“Christ almighty.” John whimpers, his head falling into the valley of your breasts. He sucks at the curve of your tits, leaving marks everywhere visible. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.” He groans into your chest. Your legs burn, but there is no way you’d stop now. Not when John is a whimpering mess under you.

“Shit-“ You huffed, feeling that familiar coil tighten in your stomach. His cock rubbing up against that delicious spot inside of you.

“You gotta- fuck- stop squeezing me like that.” He muttered, squeezing your hips, rutting up into you like a damn dog in heat. You hang on for dear life, your hands gripping his shoulder as he pounds up into you. His hands moved to where the two of you connected, rubbing against your bundle of nerves. An electric shock ran up your spine, a sharp gasp leaving your lips.

“Atta girl.” He smirked, a satisfied smile on his lips. It was like you were thrown under water, everything went quiet as white hot pleasure shook through your body. Your orgasm crashing over you in waves. You bit down on your lip, trying to silence your moans.

“I’m not- I’m not gonna-“ He huffed, thrusting up into you.

“Let go.” You said breathlessly, your body going limp above him.

“Where?” He asked through gritted teeth.

“Inside, cum inside me.” You knew it wasn’t exactly smart, but damn it you needed to feel him. It was like you had triggered something animalistic inside him. He snarled, his hips lifting up off the cot as he pounded into you. No longer caring about your pleasure, just chasing his own high.

“God damn-“ He groaned, slamming you down once more on his hips. His orgasm triggered by your own as you clamped down on him, milking his cock for all it was worth.

You sighed, laying your head on his shoulder, still feeling his pulse inside of you. Your chest rising and falling against his own. His hands moved to your corset, unlacing it for you.

“Thanks.” You giggled, feeling the corset loosen around your chest.

“Mmhm.” He hummed, kissing your shoulder. He reached for your hand, pulling off your gloves. He leaned back, tucking them into his back pocket.

“Is that,” You chuckled breathlessly, “Is that what started this?” You asked looking up at him. His eyes widened, coughing as he looked to the side. His cheeks are going bright red under your interrogation.

“Nah,” He said, shaking his head, a nervous smile on his lips.

“Mmhm,” You hummed, kissing his cheek, “Your secret is safe with me.”

#rdr2 #rdr #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #john marston x reader #john marston #hosea matthews #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #john marston smut #hihomeghere

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mysterycitrus · 3 months

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im redesigning the titans so for my own personal reference —

dick has curly hair, maybe in the range of 3a-4c type curls. he doesn’t really take care of it but they coil super easily, especially when it’s longer. he keeps it at his shoulders, maybe with a fringe. he ties it back a lot. darker complexion, a strong nose, dark blue eyes. he has a beauty mark on his left cheekbone. he smiles like his dad, but he has his mother’s eyes. the shortest titan, but it’s easy to forget because he always seems much taller than he is

donna’s got curlier hair, with proper ringlets. she and kory do each other’s hair, and she’s a big fan of oversized claw clips. a roman nose, olive complexion, brown eyes. wide shoulders, strong arms, big fan of bangles and bracelets and rings — always in silver. if someone buys her gold jewellery she gives it to dick. the tallest, along with garth. she smiles with her whole face.

roy’s very tan, very freckled, with high cheekbones and an aquiline nose. his hair is more of a dark copper, and his eyes are hazel. he’s always stubbled, no matter the time of day. broad shoulders, and he’s got a tummy! lots of upper body strength. long, calloused fingers. he’s slowly growing his hair out, and it falls very straight. he’s taller than dick, but shorter than wally

garth is almost as tall as donna, high body fat as an underwater dweller, and always smells of the tide. curly hair that’s always crusted with salt and sand. the clearest skin — so soft to touch. dolphin braids his hair for him, so it doesn’t dry weird when he’s on the surface. keeps having to adjust his posture a little, when he’s walking around. his eyes are violet, like a sunset

wally is pale. very light complexion, pale eyebrows and eyelashes, lots of freckles, light green eyes. he keeps his hair short, and it’s always blown up off his forehead. roy calls him sonic the hedgehog. very lanky, with a runner’s build. upturned nose, strong jaw, struggles to grow facial hair. roy’s hair is red, but wally’s is almost a strawberry blond. when he goes outside without sunscreen, he crisps up like a bacon rasher

#thinking aloud #persephone tag #teen titans #dc comics #spokes

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querenciasturniolo · 8 months

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obvious ⮕ c.s

word count: 367

warnings: none i don’t think

summary: chris and his way of showing love

a/n: this is a little blurb i wrote while watching the podcast last night, just had a little motivation and a little idea. more requests are coming soon 🫶🏻

everything written is completely fictional. the people i write for are written with characteristics and mannerisms that i made for them, this is in no way depicting what would actually happen in real life.

Chris was never one to be obvious about how much he cared for you.

The love was there, and you knew how he felt about you, he was just subtle with it. Small gestures that only you recognized. You reciprocated the same way, knowing that way too much way too quick would have him tense for a few minutes.

He’d lightly pinch your arm when he walked by, a soft nip that you’d swiftly reciprocate with a brush of your fingers against his shoulder, the both of you continuing your tasks without fault.

The way he always tapped your knee twice under the table, and you’d reciprocate a soft bump to his side with your elbow, neither of you even batting an eye, nor hesitating with the conversation before you.

The way he’d immediately pinch a piece of your hair between his thumb and forefinger and tug softly, which you’d reply in a soft scoff and gentle shove to his chest.

It was different the days he was overflowing with energy, switching the tug to your hair to a soft kiss to the back of your head, or tapping your knee to resting against you with his arm over your shoulders.

Days where he was tired and quiet, he’d wrap his arms around you and breathe deeply, mumbling soft sentences into your hair. He’d plop down onto his back on the couch, his head dropping into your lap and his eyes closing. You’d run your fingers through his hair and twirl the soft waves into tight ringlets, Chris’ breathing evening out and the crease between his eyebrows relaxing as if whatever he was thinking hard about was resolved.

There were more energetic days than tired days, which you were grateful for. As much as you loved the soft, intimate moments, you could tell he needed them more than wanted them. It didn’t hurt, knowing that he came to you in those moments for unspoken comfort.

You didn’t mind the lack of lovey-dovey romantic gestures between the two of you, considering you knew how much he loved you. Through the snarky, joke-texts to the little touches he’d give you throughout the day, his love for you was obvious.

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo blurb #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo

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moonstruckme · 5 months

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hiiii ! im not sure if you take requests but i would LOVE just a small sirius x coquette reader blurb!!! nothing specific just anything!

i just think they would be so opposites and it would be so so cute <3

Hi gorgeous, I do! Thanks for requesting <3

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 810 words

“I feel like I’m smelling smoke,” you say, and Sirius hastily lets the strand of hair fall from the curling wand.

“You’re delusional,” he replies when it doesn’t look totally charred. “I’m a pro at this, sweetheart.”

You hum dubiously. “Well, I appreciate your help. I can never reach the ones in the back, they always end up looking wonky.”

“Yeah, you owe me big,” Sirius lets his voice stretch long and reluctant, as if you don't both know how much he loves getting to play with your hair. “Gonna do a ribbon today?”

“Sure.” You lean forward to apply your lipstick in the mirror.

“Which one?”

“You can pick, Siri.”

He deliberates for a moment, taking the opportunity to let his eyes skim over you under the guise of assessing your outfit, before holding a pink one up in the mirror for your approval. You nod happily, and Sirius begins gathering your hair in his hands.

“Hold still a minute, pretty thing.” He makes sure there’s a couple of ringlets loose in the front like you like them and pins the ribbon in place.

“Is it straight?” you ask, twisting your lipstick shut and capping it.

“Dollface, you wound me.”

“Fine, I’ll trust you.” You roll your eyes with a smile. “Ready to go, love?”

“Actually, let me get ready really quickly.” Sirius peers into the mirror with great concentration and shoves his hands into his hair, shaking it out at the roots until it looks as messy as possible. “Okay, ready.”

“Hilarious.”

“You’re just jealous,” he says, “that my routine is so much easier than yours.”

“Siri, I’ve seen you spend hours cutting the sleeves off of all your t-shirts.” You give him a teasing look, slipping your feet, clad in frilly socks, into your Mary Jane’s while Sirius tugs on his combat boots. “Don’t act like you’re so low-maintenance.”

“You wish you had tattoos this sick to show off.” Sirius feels sort of like a big dog you’ve got on a leash, the way you stroll towards the front door with him on your heels.

“Not really, no. That’s your thing, not mine.”

“Someday,” he says wistfully, following you out the door and shutting it behind him. “Someday I’m going to get you into a tattoo shop, and you’re going to come out looking so punk rock no one will even recognize you.”

You give him a deadpan look, though the effect is made somewhat less intimidating by your sweet face and cutesy outfit. “Sure, love.” Sirius grins at you, straddling his bike and slipping on his helmet. You hesitate. “Can we walk? It’s not far, and I don’t want the wind to mess up my hair.”

“Oh.” A tiny pang of disappointment goes through Sirius, but he understands. Hair is always the priority. “Sure.”

“Actually, wait just a second.” You lean in close to his face, frowning, and Sirius’ eyebrows inch upwards before he realizes you’re using the reflective visor of his helmet to see yourself. You purse your lips.

“I forgot to blot,” you say quietly, almost to yourself. You bring a finger to your mouth, tapping at your bottom lip to remove the excess lipstick. Sirius watches the motion with unchecked awe, your pretty pink lips supple and oscillating under your touch.

“Siri, baby, can I have your hand?”

He gives it to you without hesitation, and you raise it to your lips, stamping pink lipstick onto the backside of his palm. You press your lips together one final time before smiling, satisfied. “Okay, you can take the helmet off now.”

Sirius does, almost in a trance, looking down at the mark you’ve left on his hand. It’s perfectly pressed, the pink a funny-looking contrast against his dark painted nails and the silver rings that adorn his knuckles.

“C’mere, sweet thing,” he says. You look a bit perplexed, but step closer to where he’s still straddling his bike, the dainty floral pattern of your tights brushing his dark jeans. He takes your face in both hands. “You’re so lovely, you know that?”

You’re well used to Sirius’ flirting, but the sincerity in his voice has a pretty blush rising to the apples of your cheeks. The pinkness of it matches nicely, the thinks, with your lipstick and the ribbon in your hair. Sirius pulls you towards him, smushing his lips to yours.

You make a startled sound of protest. “Sirius!” you pull away, raising a hand to hover by your lips. “You’re going to mess it up!”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, but you’re already picking up his helmet from where he’d set it on the seat, checking your reflection. “It’s more punk rock that way.”

“I told you.” You swipe at a smudged spot of pink at the corner of your lips, giving him a dazzling smile. “That’s your thing, not mine.”

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thisisourlovestory · 4 months

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Safe and Sound

Finnick Odair x reader soulmate AU

Summary: you are a victor from district 4. The Quarter Quell has just been announced. How will you cope with the turn of events coming your way.

Word count- 3.2k

Chapter 4

We were immediately assaulted by the screams and shouts of Capitol citizens as they clamoured for a look at us, as if we were animals in a zoo. The only thing holding them back were peacekeepers. I wanted to ignore them, I wanted nothing to do with them, I wanted to just go somewhere far away and never return. But I couldn't do any of those things. I looked to the side and saw Lysander pointing people out, muttering under his breath if he knew them or not, and if he knew them then I knew they were important, in other words they were the richer members of the Capitol and they would be the ones sponsoring tributes. And Finnick had turned on the charm yet again, giving that blinding smile, waving to the crowd, blowing kisses at women who swooned and almost collapsed at the attention. Even Mags was nodding her head at them, a smile stretched across her face at the attention she was receiving, but her eyes weren't smiling, the smile was for show, to keep up pretences. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again.

That's when I saw her. A small girl dressed in a bright pink dress that puffed around her, golden hair coiled in ringlets with a matching bow half the size of her head keeping it out of her face. She was so tiny, and almost being crushed in the crowd, I could see panic on her face about to give way to tears. My eyebrows drew together and I glanced at Lysander before striding over to the peacekeepers.

“Excuse me.” I yelled, “I need to get to that girl there,” I pointed at her, “The one in the pink.” Surprisingly they listened and cleared a path for me. I could hear Lysander calling my name but I walked towards the girl and crouched down in front of her. She looked at me and I smiled.

“Hi there. What's your name? Are you okay?” I asked softly. She nodded, sniffling and wiping her nose.

“I'm Clio.” She answered in a tiny voice.

“There are a lot of people here aren't there Clio.” Nobody was making a sound, too busy watching me. “It can get a bit scary sometimes, especially when you're small like you.” She nodded again. “I'll tell you a little secret Clio.” Her eyes widened a bit and she leaned in. “I'm still scared of this as well sometimes.” I nodded solemnly. “But it's okay to be afraid of things and one day you might just find out that you aren't afraid anymore.” I plucked a flower that had been thrown at us by someone from the concrete floor, a pink carnation- my mind supplied, I snapped the stem and tucked the flower behind her ear. I smiled and she threw herself at me. Surprised, I patted her on the back and pulled away after a few seconds. She smiled back at me and held out a bouquet of flowers, all different colours and shapes, as I took them she tucked a white rose behind my own ear and whispered something.

“I want to be like you when I'm older.” The words hit me somewhere deep inside but I managed a smile and pressed a light kiss to her forehead before I walked back to the others. They all stared at me but I did what I did best and ignored them as people started calling my name much louder than before. My little display of humanity must have done something, made them feel something for once for that to happen.

Flowers sailed over my head and jewels clattered on the ground as they became even more frantic to catch our attention. I felt Finnick's gaze on my back as I walked just a little in front of them, lifting one hand at a time to wave to the crowd. They went wild. Scrambling over each other to get closer to me, yelling my name louder and louder. One step in front of the other. Petals from flowers crunching underfoot. I smiled slightly as we finally got to the Remake Centre where our stylists would be. Peacekeepers waiting inside separated us and led us off to different rooms in the vast interior. The last thing I heard as the elevator doors shut was Lysander talking to Mags, I only caught the end of his sentence.

“An angel.”

I stood awkwardly in the elevator, four peacekeepers accompanying me. Four. Did they think I was Cashmere or Enobaria? Because I had never had more than one accompany me at any time. They only give you them if they think you're dangerous, but there was nothing dangerous about me at all. So why? A ding sounded and the doors opened, I was taken to a room and left there alone, simply looking around the room. It was all white, stark bright white, clinical almost and like freshly fallen snow, pristine. I waited for a few minutes, kicking my feet under the table I had decided to sit on, before a small group walked in, chattering away. They gasped immediately upon seeing me. Two women and a man, all with brightly coloured hair. They hurried over to me and introduced themselves.

“I'm Antonia,” said the one with bright blue hair, “It's a pleasure to meet you.”

“And I’m Priscilla.” The other girl with silvery hair said brightly. I studied them, they looked similar, sisters maybe.

“I'm Quintus.” The man said. “We are your prep team.” They all smiled at me, a gesture supposed to be calming but the looks in their eyes made me nervous, and within moments the girls were stripping me of my clothing and bundled me into a bathtub filled to the brim with steaming hot water that was almost painful to touch. Antonia sprinkled bath salts into it that smelled overwhelmingly of lavender and mint. They scrubbed me with soap until my skin was red and raw but left a weird sparkle to it. My hair was shampooed and conditioned within an inch of its life, not a single tangle could be found once they were done with it. Then, they dragged me out, dried me off with a fluffy towel and wrapped me in a silk robe. They directed me to lie down, then they proceeded to tear out every scrap of hair on my body that they deemed unfit to be there. Warm wax spread across my skin, almost comforting before the pain that followed, then cool gel to stop the sting in one spot as they repeated the process again and again and again until I felt like a plucked chicken. Quintus spread some kind of clay mask on my face and let it sit while the others rubbed scented oils into my skin and sprayed perfume over me. He peeled the mask off and brushed some cream across my skin leaving it smooth and soft. I went to touch my face but he smacked my hand away, scolding me as if I was a child.

“No, no, no. You don't touch, we just got all the dirt out. Don't touch.” I didn't try to touch it again. They cleaned my nails, filed them into an almond shape and painted them a shining pale pink with pearly white tips, then did the same to my toes. They plucked and perfected me as if I were a doll for them to play with. All the while they chatted mindlessly and not a single word they said held any meaning to me. Talking about how exciting the games this year would be, who they thought would win- they assured me after that they definitely believed it could be me, I knew they were only lying to make me feel better. Fortunately for me they completely ignored my mark, perhaps they thought it was simply a tattoo since they were very common in the Capitol. Unfortunately for me they did not shy away from mentioning how attractive they found Finnick. I believe Antonia's exact words were that he could ‘Do whatever he wanted to her as long as the last thing she saw was his face.’ At that point I decided that the best thing would be to not listen so I tuned them out and nodded occasionally so they thought I was paying attention.

When they finished with me I had been primped to, what I assumed was in their eyes, perfection. They sat me down and inspected me, silently for once. Quintus hummed.

“Good job ladies.” He praised Antonia and Priscilla. Then to me. “Your stylist will be here in a moment. After she's dressed you, we’ll do your hair and makeup.”

"I thought that you did all that before.” At the confused look on my face as I spoke he elaborated. “She decided to do things a bit differently this year. Something about us being able to make you look better if we did it after because we would know what the dress looked like.” He rolled his eyes. “I don't understand personally but she's the boss.” Then they left. Giving me small waves and whispering to each other.

I stayed seated, wrapping the robe back around my body tightly, shivering as the cold air touched my legs. The door slammed open and I jumped, my head snapping up to see a woman. She was wearing a long black dress that had shimmering blue detailing on it at the hem and bodice. She smiled at me, her white teeth standing out against her dark skin.

“Hello Y/N. I'm Megara.” She said as she walked over to me. I could see her more clearly now. The blue on the dress was in a swirling pattern that reminded me of the waves back home, her hair was cut short with a fringe that fell just above her dark eyes that were flecked with green. “First I'd like to say that I admire what you did for her. Annie. It took great courage to volunteer to come back. Second, I am your stylist this year and I have a lot planned. Third, you're going to look incredible.” I blinked, surprised at how blunt she was.

“I've never seen you before.” I stated and she grinned.

“It's my first year styling for the games. I'm younger than the others but I've learnt a few tricks from my older brother.” I tilted my head questioningly. “You may have heard of him. His name is Cinna.” I tapped my fingers against my skin.

“Katniss Everdeen's stylist.” She nodded and hummed.

“Yes. And this year my mission is to beat him. Well, less of a mission, more that I just want to rub it in his face when my outfits for you are so much better than the ones he's made for the girl on fire.”

“How are you going to do that?” I asked softly and her grin widened.

“My brother uses fire. So I'm going to use water.” My eyes widened and I sat forward.

“What do you mean?”

“I'll explain later but for now you need to get changed into these.“She waved a hand in the air dismissively and shoved the bag she was holding into my arms. “Once you’re ready I’ll get the others back in and let them do what they do, then I'll explain what’s going to happen out there.” She shoved the bag she was holding into my arms. I walked over and into the tiny changing room and just before I shut the door she called out over her shoulder. “And I actually want you to wear the bra and pants. Unlike anyone else in this place.” I snorted with laughter and closed the door. Once I was alone, I zipped open the bag and emptied the contents onto a bench. A set of white underwear, a simple white dress and a matching set of heels. I quickly pulled them all on and stared at myself in the mirror on the wall. The dress fell around my body in a sheet of white, it clung to the upper half of my body like a second skin but flared out slightly at my waist and hung loosely to swing around my ankles. The sleeves sat off my shoulder, exposing my neck and collarbone, the sharp bones almost seemed to cut through my skin, the sleeves fell down to my wrists and the fabric formed a sharp point where my middle finger joined to the top of my hand. The shoes were open toed, thin straps crossing my ankles and just above my toes, they were unfortunately heels and incredibly uncomfortable. I walked unsteadily back into the room, arms thrown out to the side to balance myself. The second I stepped in, Megara whirled around and her hands flew to her mouth.

“Oh. You look perfect. The dress suits you so well, now sit, sit.” She waved me to sit down on a chair in the centre of the room. I sat and the prep team ran back into the room.

I was immediately swept up in a whirlwind of activity. They whipped out brushes, makeup palettes, hair brushes, sponges, pins, elastic bands, curling tongs, straighteners, and… was that a measuring tape? Quintus yanked my arms down to my side as Priscilla opened a huge case. He barked orders at her and she handed him everything he asked for. He painstakingly applied the makeup to my face, muttering things under his breath and twisting my head to inspect his work. Eventually he pulled back and Antonia took over. She brushed my hair viciously, making sure it was as smooth as possible. Then she curled it loosely, letting the curls fall down my back in spirals. She pulled the front part of my hair back and plaited them tightly around the back of my head in a crown. She twisted the loose strands out and let them gently frame my face, featherlight touches of hair against my cheeks. They finally stepped back to admire their work and gestured for me to stand up. I wobbled to my feet and gave a little spin, letting the hem of the dress flare out around me slightly.

“You are a masterpiece my dear.” Quintus told me. “You look incredible. Nobody will be able to top this.”

“Don't mess up the hair.” Antonia chimed in from behind him. I looked over my shoulder to see myself in a mirror Megara was holding up. They had given me only the thinnest layer of makeup to conceal my flaws, then added sparkling eyeshadow and dramatic mascara to lengthen my lashes. In effect, it made my eyes look larger and more pleading, more innocent. The dress revealed just over half of my back, cutting down in a soft curve and exposing the thin silvery scars weaving their way along my skin. Practically invisible from a distance which would be fine but close up they seemed to be the only thing you could see. They weren't ugly per se. They weren't as bad as some of the scars other victors had. In fact I quite liked them. They reminded me of home in a way. The way they twisted unpredictably across my skin like waves. Always changing, never staying the same for long. So no, they weren't ugly, at least not to me. To me they were beautiful. They reminded me of all the trials I had suffered, the torture I had undergone a few years ago when President Snow made me an offer. And I had refused. But you can't refuse Snow and expect to get away with it unpunished.

My hair was perfect, pinned up just right and styled in a way I never would have been able to recreate myself. The sleeves covered up my mark which was good, I wouldn't want to have to explain that to anyone, especially not the man I would be on the chariot with. I twisted my wrists to look at the palms of my hands rather than the white satin, soft against my sharp bones, reddened dents from my fingernails lined them, small bruises from smacking my hands down too hard on corner surfaces and calluses spread across them. Perfect as far as they could see, with the best clothes, flawless makeup . But not really.

“Now hold still just a moment dear.” Priscilla swooped down on me like a vulture, brandishing baby pink lipstick and gloss. She swiped them onto my lips as quick as a flash, leaving them slightly tinted and glowing. They all turned to look at Megara and when she gave a decisive nod of approval they all filed out of the room, lugging behind their suitcases and bags. No sooner had they left the room, Megara sat me back down and brought out a jewellery box. She reached in and took out a sparkling diamond necklace. I gasped and she clasped it around my neck.

“So the necklace is really just for a bit of bling. This is the pièce de résistance.” She dipped her hands back into the box and extracted a delicate tiara, thin pieces of silver wrapped around diamonds and pearls. She placed it gently on my hair, tucking the sides of it under the braid to secure it. “Now you look perfect.” She told me, holding up the mirror so I could see myself again. I took in the plains of my face, she was right, I did look the perfect part. She interrupted my thoughts. “I should tell you I have no idea what Finnick will be wearing because his stylist has hated me ever since I refused to go out with her brother. “ She rolled her eyes. “It's a long story that one. But given his appeal to the Capitol I would say it'll be interesting to say the least. In any case, you'll look incredible next to him. Now I should probably tell you what you're going to do when you're in the chariot okay. So listen up because I'm only going to say it once.” I listened intently, a smile blooming on my face as she gestured wildly, animatedly explaining her master plan to me. I asked a few questions which she answered, albeit a little reluctantly. Then she was checking her watch and ushering me out the door and down to where the chariots would be waiting. “We have half an hour until the procession. I know I'm only your stylist but try not to draw too much attention to yourself. Although that may be hard considering this dress. “ I laughed loudly.

“Don't worry Meg. I'll be fine and it'll all work out. I promise.” I clasped her hand in mine and grinned. “Now I'll make you a bet.” Her eyebrows rose and she leaned in. “I bet you Finnick will be wearing nothing on top and not nearly enough on the bottom.” She eyed me up and down.

“Okay then, why not. I'll take my chances. Besides,” she smirked,” I'm not so sure you'd necessarily be opposed to that.” Her eyes latched onto my wrist and she gave me a knowing smile as I flushed bright red. “I won't tell. I promise. We can gossip about it later.” She winked and with that was gone, yelling over her shoulder. “See you out there angel.” I smiled at her antics, a smile quickly replaced as peacekeepers escorted me through the doors and into the huge space where all the tributes were gathering. I took a deep breath and prepared myself.

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