#he’s character B and I’m character A lmao | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gojorgeous · 3 months

Text

“heatwaves”

pairing: alpha!gojo x omega!fem!reader summary: when a work trip takes you to japan, the last thing you expect is a heatwave... and some guy with blue eyes? content: MDNI (18+ only), nsfw, a/b/o dynamics, no established relationship, dubcon (i feel like it’s always kinda dubcon with a/b/o), p->v, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding, biting, blood, marking, spit, praise, swearing, pet names (baby/sweetheart/princess), brief mention/implication of pregnancy, knotting, reader gets picked up, reader is american, reader is unaware of their omega status, reader experiences their first heat, reader and satoru “bond” without having a fully conscious conversation, reader and satoru are early twenties. a/n: it's here! somebody spay me. by popular demand i have written alpha!gojo for you all… just a classic reader goes into an accidental heat at work and (x) character happens to be the nearest alpha LMAO. this is entirely uncreative, but i love it for that!!! straight smut with a little plot if you squint hard enough! i hope it lives up to your expectations. find my alpha!geto fic here and find the list of my 1k event fics here. enjoy and remember, ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED! credits: dividers by @cafekitsune. wc: 5k

Nobody ever told you that Japan was so damn hot.

Hot was not what came to mind when you’d heard you’d be taking a trip to Tokyo. Temples? Sure. Mt. Fuji? Great. Hot? No fucking way.

But, here you were, boiling away under the sun on what you’d thought would be a fun little work trip. Instead, you were just suffering with every step, trying to listen to what Principal Yaga was saying and failing miserably.

“These are the sparring courts. No students right now, but they’ll start training within the hour.”

You rub at the back of your neck, cringing when your palm comes away coated with a thin layer of sweat. Gross.

You lift your eyes to the sky, wondering how much longer this was going to take. Your little trip to Japan was to organize an exchange program with Jujutsu Tech. Your students had been begging to take a trip to Tokyo, to where their cursed energy would be closer to the source and, consequently, stronger. You had to admit, it was a good idea. A few months spent training here in Japan would do them good. From the moment you’d set foot on Japanese soil, your power had thrummed faster in your veins than ever before.

Principal Yaga was giving you a tour of the grounds and had sealed your horrible fate when he’d decided to start outside. You barely heard a word the man said. New York was never this hot…

“Are you alright?” You blink, fanning your face as best you can. It provides no relief. God, it felt like the heat was penetrating your fucking bones…

When your eyes slide to Principal Yaga, you’re surprised to see that he looks genuinely concerned. “Y-yeah.” You blink again, shocked by your own stutter. Maybe you were coming down with something? “I’m fine, just not used to this kind of heat, I guess.” You fan your face again and clench your jaw when it still does nothing.

Yaga’s brows furrow and you see him glance around, like he’ll find said heat standing next to him. How was he wearing so many layers?

“How about we head inside and take a break, then? We can continue the tour… later.” You nearly fall to the ground and kiss his feet. Air conditioning is truly God's gift to man…

You smile and it’s all genuine. “That would be amazing. Thank you.”

Yaga nods, but you think his eyes linger on you for just a beat too long before he turns. He still looks confused… or maybe flustered? That only leaves you confused.

You follow after him, each step feeling like you’re sinking deep into cement. You tug at the collar of your shirt, trying to get some ventilation. When you finally reach the building you nearly sigh with relief. Air conditioning… that’ll be good. Just what you need. A few minutes inside and you’ll be good to go. You’ll just have to remember not to wear so many damn layers again when you continue the tour.

You’re smiling as you step inside, so ready for relief that you’re practically shaking– but relief never comes. Your brows furrow. You brush your arm through the air. It… doesn’t help. It’s strange– you can feel the coolness of the air conditioning, feel it gliding up and across your skin, but the heat doesn’t subside, doesn’t so much as lessen.

“I trust you know how to find anything you might–” Yaga clears his throat. “Need?”

Your brows furrow. He’d shown you all the school’s resources last night and your room was already stocked with food, toiletries, and every other thing you could possibly need. Of course you knew where everything was…

“Yes… Thank you.”

Yaga shifts so uncomfortably you think that maybe he’s about to pee his pants. “Right, well, you have my contact information. Let me know if I can be of assistance in connecting you to any… resources.”

You’re more confused now than you were at the start of this conversation. “Right…”

“Take care.”

Yaga shoots you one last– worried?- glance and stalks down the hall. You’re left wondering what the hell is happening in his mind and why he seemed so desperate to offer you resources?

You blink, clearing your mind as best you can, but some sort of fog seems to be settling over your consciousness. Definitely coming down with something, you think.

You make your way through the halls, steps still feeling suspiciously heavy and heat still radiating off your body. A cold shower. That’ll help. Or so you thought. The further you walk, the more each hallway starts to look like the next. Was it left or right next? Was this hallway always a dead end? Since when was there a bathroom there?

You’re leaning against the wall now, panting. Something is pooling in your gut, something warm and far too intense. Your inner thighs are wet, too. You want to convince yourself it’s sweat, but… you’re horny. More horny than you’ve ever been in your whole damn life. You think you might die if you don’t get some dick in the next ten minutes. What the fuck?

You slide yourself into the next room you see: an empty classroom. Thank fucking god. You grab the back of a chair, hands shaking with how hard you’re gripping the wood. You take a deep breath. You need to get a hold of yourself, need to figure out what the fuck is happening to you.

You swallow and try your best to think. It’s not without difficulty. Your head feels like somebody’s filled it with glue. It takes a minute for a coherent thought to come through, but when it does, you think it’s a good one. Doctor.

Yes– you don’t feel well, so obviously a doctor is the correct choice, right? You scramble for your phone in your back pocket but freeze when the brush of your own hand against your ass sends a jolt up your spine. What the fuck is wrong with you?

Carefully, you extract your phone from your pocket, but it’s too difficult to even remember your fucking passcode. You press your thighs together, trying to relieve some of the overwhelming ache that’s forming between your legs. Something is definitely wrong.

You fumble with your phone, but your hands are shaking so hard it just tumbles to the floor.

“Fuck,” you breathe. “Fuck, fuck, fuck?”

“Yo, who’s baking cookies in here without me?”

Your head snaps up and, with some difficulty, your eyes settle on a… man. You suck in a breath. He’s… dazzling. He’s wearing all black, but it’s not a student uniform. One of the teachers that you’ve yet to meet, then. White hair and pale skin contrasts against his clothes, but his eyes are covered by a pair of sunglasses set low on his nose. Even in your delirious state you still have the wherewithal to wonder who the fuck wears sunglasses inside.

You get a quick look at him before a wave of intense- fuck, desire?- washes over you. You tremble again and shock yourself when a whimper tumbles from your lips.

“Oh, shit,” you hear him say. You glance at him from the corner of your eye and watch him inhale again– deeply. His lips part. “Oh, shit.”

You clench your jaw and tighten your grip on your chair. Your legs are shaking now– you can barely stand. You squeak pitifully.

The second the sound leaves your throat you hear footsteps– rapid, hurried, concerned, ones. Warm hands clasp your waist and you cry out at the touch, electricity sparking on your skin.

“Shhh, it’s okay.” He turns you gently to face him, hands steadying your swaying body. “Who the fuck left you alone in here?” His hand is rubbing soothing circles on your lower back now and you think you’ve never felt something so good in your life. It’s so good that you almost miss what he said. Almost.

“W-What?” You see his brows furrow as you peek up at him. At this angle you can see under his sunglasses. His eyes are blue. Really fucking blue. You think he might be the most attractive man you’ve ever seen, even with the expression of… anger?- that he’s currently wearing.

“Whoever he is, I'll kill him.”

That makes you blink. An extra sliver of clarity opens in your brain. “What are you talking about?”

He tugs you a little closer, wrapping an arm fully around your waist and pressing you up against him. You try to ignore the fact that you love it, that you want nothing more than to wrap yourself around him and climb him like a fucking tree.

“What idiot leaves an omega going into heat?” He’s glaring at the doorway like he’s torn between staying here with you and running after said idiot to pommel him into the ground.

“‘M not an omega.” The words are out before you’ve even stopped to consider them. It’s true. You’re not an omega. You’re a beta. You’ve always been a beta. You’ve got the little “B” on your ID card to prove it. You were tested at birth, just like everyone else, and even if you really were an omega you would have presented years ago.

He only glances down at you and snorts. “Funny, sweetheart.” His hand is still rubbing those little circles into your back and it’s enough to make that fogginess in your mind grow a little thicker.

But your fear, your uncertainty outways your instinct. You pound a weak fist against his chest, not to push him away, but to get his attention. He’s still glaring at the doorway like he wants to murder it.

“‘M serious,” you gasp. “I’m a beta… I don’... know whas’ happenin’… to me.” Each word is a tremendous effort to form. Your tongue seems to have lost its ability to do anything but hang limply.

That gets his attention. He lifts a hand, gently brushing your hair back from your eyes and then cupping your jaw. “Is this your first heat?”

You find yourself leaning into his touch despite the fact that you’ve only known him for thirty seconds. Your eyelids flutter. “N-Not a heat… jus’ feel… sick.”

His brows furrow again, deeper this time, and he shakes his head. “How old are you?”

You know why he asks. Most omegas present around eighteen or nineteen. “Older than… nineteen…” You try to laugh, but it only comes out as a whimper.

That answer only serves to make him push closer. You feel his hand trailing down your neck, skimming gently over the skin until he reaches a spot you hadn't even realized was so… sore. You keen at the touch. Fuck, no. There was no way. You had swollen fucking scent glands.

You try to push away, but he pulls you in, burying his face in your neck. You shudder when he groans. “You smell like a damn bakery exploded,” he chuckles, and the sound is muffled by your skin. When he pulls away he makes it look like the action is physically painful. He cups your face again. “Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but you’re an omega. If this is your first heat then…” he swallows and your eyes track the bob of his throat. “You’re just a late bloomer, baby.”

You shake your head desperately. It’s just the stupid heatwave. It’s just… hot outside… right?

You try to think about how this could be possible. It could be that the test you took as a baby was wrong… it happened sometimes. It was rare, but it happened. But if you were an omega, what would have triggered your presentation now? What had changed?

Your eyes widen. Japan. You’d set foot in fucking Japan. Ever since you’d gotten here, you’d felt power pulsing in your veins. Maybe it hadn’t been just power…

“N-no–”

A gentle thumb smooths over your cheek and you meet his eyes again. You shiver when you see a whole lot more black than blue. “You have no alpha?”

You whimper, leaning into him. Touch me, touch me, touch me, a part of you begs. You shake your head again and a tear slides down your cheek. “No,” you whisper.

Strong arms slide beneath your knees and you squeak when you’re suddenly suspended in the air. When you glance up he’s grinning triumphantly. “You have one now,” is all he says before he’s carrying you out of the classroom and twisting through the halls.

Warmth rushes over you at the sensation of being held, and something begs you to give into it, to give into the heat still washing over you, to the throbbing between your legs. You fight it and fight it hard.

“Where’re we going?” you ask, but your voice is sounding more and more like a whisper.

His eyes stay focused ahead, even as he presses a comforting kiss to the crown of your head. “Your room, sweetheart.”

Your brows scrunch. “How d’ you know where–”

“‘M following your scent, baby.”

He can do that? You bury your face in his neck, embarrassed, only to be hit by a different scent so delicious your mouth starts watering. You groan. Loudly. There’s a scent pouring from his neck that’s filling your head with memories of spices you can’t name, but suddenly know you love.

You think you hear him chuckle and then feel a gentle hand on the back of your neck, encouraging you. You snuggle deeper into him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and burying your fingers in his hair. Taste him, taste him, taste him your mind chants. It’s too good an offer to deny. You lick a stripe across his skin.

Your groans are instant. He’s squeezing you closer, leaning into your touch, and you’re pulling him closer. Your fingers curl into his jacket, tugging and tugging. You lick again and now he’s the one groaning.

“Damn, that feels good,” He sounds as surprised by that fact as you feel. The swaying of his steps comes to a sudden halt. You whine, missing the rocking of his body. “Think we’re here, princess. This it?” His hand is smoothing over your hair, slowly coaxing you away from the curve of his neck. You blink, not wanting to leave the paradise of his scent, but also feeling some overwhelming urge to please him.

Your eyes settle on a door and you recognize a little chip in the wood. You nod. “Mhm.”

You gasp when his hand grips your hip, wriggling through your pocket until he pulls out a little brass key.

“Perfect,” he says, and his voice sounds like he’s all too pleased with himself. He shimmies your key in the knob until the lock clicks and then you’re inside. The door slams shut loud enough to make you jump and squeak.

“Oops, sorry, baby. Guess I’m a little excited, heh.” His hand squeezes your hip soothingly and you mewl at the wave of heat that pulses through you. Your clit throbs almost painfully and you feel something gush onto your thighs. You whimper.

He inhales. “Oh, shit,” he breathes, and then you’re moving again. He navigates your room like he knows it. He probably does. From what you can tell, most of the rooms at Jujutsu Tech follow a standard layout. He weaves down a hall to the left and then into your bedroom on the right.

He lays you on the bed gently, tenderly, like he’s afraid you might break if he drops you so much as an inch. “There we go,” he breathes. You can’t deny that it feels good, that it feels right, to be lying on the softness of your mattress, but it’s not enough.

You claw at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and pulling him close. You want something from him, need something, but you can’t name what. You just know that the heat boiling beneath your skin can only be sated by him, that the throbbing between your legs can only be calmed by him. “P-Please,” you whimper. Tears well in your eyes. You need him so bad it physically hurts.

The smile he gives you is soft and genuine and it takes your breath away. He dips his head and you think you see him slide those sunglasses down his nose and toss them to the side. You don’t pay too close attention, though, because he’s kissing your neck again and your body is screaming with sensation.

“Aw, I know, baby. Don’ worry. ‘M gonna take care of you now. Jus’ relax.”

His words spark something in you– your last bit of consciousness. A brief moment of clarity shines through the fog of your mind and you remember what the hell is happening, what the hell you’re doing. You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head desperately. No, no, no, this is not happening to you. There’s no way.

“Hey, now. None a’ that.” Fingers clasp your chin, holding you still. When you peek your eyes open, you see that he has in fact removed his sunglasses and that his eyes are more black pupil than dazzling blue. His jaw is clenched and his breathing is heavy. “Don’t try t’ fight it. Jus’ try to enjoy it…” His head dips and suddenly he’s nipping at your scent gland again.

You thrash and scream, but not in fear or pain. You’ve never felt something so good in your life. Every graze of his teeth feels like heaven. Your skin zings with electricity, sending pulses of pure need straight between your thighs.

You grab at him, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging him closer. Your chest is heaving when you speak. “Please, p-please-”

“Shhh…” You think you hear your shirt tearing, but you’re too focused on pulling him closer to care. His tongue licks a stripe up your throat and your eyes roll back.

You’re sure your shirt is off now. You can feel the cool air, but it does nothing to ease the heat raging inside you, pulsing and pumping through your veins.You feel him tugging at your pants, too, and you try to raise your hips. He only shushes you again. “Jus’ relax. Let me do the work, baby.”

Your pants are gone in seconds, even without your assistance. So is your bra and then your panties. He tries pulling away to undress himself, but you mewl and his eyes blow even blacker before he’s back over you again. He settles for popping the buttons straight off his shirt and shimmying out of his pants.

The sight of his bare skin makes you whimper and then you’re clawing at him again, dragging your fingers across his shoulders, over his chest, down his abs. It’s a greedy touch and one that he returns. His palms move along your body, kneading and squeezing at any flesh he can grab. It feels so good that you think you might pass out– but it’s still not enough. Something is still missing. You feel… empty.

His fingers trace across your stomach and it’s too late to realize what’s happening before he’s circling your clit. You jerk and jolt at the touch, but he presses his chest to yours, pinning you. The throbbing only worsens when his fingers settle into a rhythm.

Tears leak down your cheeks. It’s too overwhelming. You’re burning– burning from the inside out. The pulsing between your thighs is all-consuming with its intensity, with its-

“Need! N-Need–” you’re crying out, but you don’t even know what to ask for– don’t even know what you need.

“God, Fuck, I know, princess,” he groans. He licks a long stripe up your neck. “But ‘s your first heat. Gotta–” he has to pause to swallow. He’s panting, now, just as lost as you are, and you get the sense that he’s restraining himself. “Gotta get you ready… go slow.”

You shake your head. Now, now, now is all you can think. You need him now. “No… please…” You bury your head in his neck and find that spot that’s pouring his spicy scent into the air. Your mouth waters and you lick him, letting your teeth graze his skin.

“Fuck!” He shivers atop you and you feel the pure strength restrained within his muscles. “Fuck- okay. Okay. Relax f’ me, princess.”

You try, you really do, but your body refuses to do anything but try to pull him closer. You feel his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs, pressing them up, up, up until they’re pressed tightly to your chest and your feet are dangling on his shoulders. The position makes you whine, feeling more exposed than you ever have before.

“You on birth control, baby?”

Your brows furrow. It’s becoming harder and harder to focus on what he’s saying rather than simply the sound of his voice. Were you? You try to think, try to remember through the pit of glue that is your brain. No…

You shake your head. “N-No…”

There’s a slight pause, a beat of contemplation, and then he’s laughing. “Guess I’m bouta be a daddy then, heh.” He chuckles again and the sound rings through you with a wave of pure bliss. His lips brush your neck again, settling on your pulse and making you whine. “Don’t really mind as long as I get you.” Your head rolls back submissively, exposing your throat. Yes, yes, yes, your mind screams. There’s nothing you want more than that, you think.“Okay, here we go, baby.”

There’s hardly any more warning. One second you feel him shifting between your thighs and the next he’s pressing inside of you, feeding his cock in inch by inch. The stretch is… delicious. It burns, fuels that fire inside you, but it makes the heat feel more… pleasurable. Your back arches and your head rolls back submissively.

“Oh, fuck, princess.” His voice has gotten higher, more like a whine than anything else. When you gaze up at him you can see the flush in his cheeks, even through the fog in your mind. More, more, more your mind screams. Or maybe you say it aloud, because more is exactly what he gives you. The second you feel him tucked up against your cervix the second he begins to take you. He sets a pace that is somehow both brutal and gentle, with strokes that rattle your skull and also give you exactly what you need. His hands grip your hips, holding you still to take exactly what he wants to give. His head dips until he has his lips wrapped around your nipple, and his tongue is swirling so deliciously that you can’t help but drag your nails down his back.

Your body rocks with every thrust, teeth rattling and eyes rolling. The heat inside you grows… tighter, like it’s all pooling to your core, waiting for something you still can’t quite name.

“N-need…” You don’t know what you need, still. Only that you want to beg for it so badly it hurts.

His tongue slides away from your nipple, tracing a line up between the valley of your breasts, over your collarbone, before he finally settles on your pulse once again. The nick of his teeth makes something click in your mind. This is what you need. Bite me, bite me, bite. Claim me, claim me, claim me.

“Yes,” you breathe. Your fingers dig into his scalp, pulling him closer, coaxing his teeth to sink in, to stake their claim. “Oh God, yes. Please.” You sound delirious, you think, but then so does he when he answers.

“Not yet, princess. Not yet.” His tongue darts out to lick across your neck again and you can only sob. Why not yet? Now, now, now…

Tightness coils in your muscles, the throb at your core reaching a breaking point. You feel something coming, something like an orgasm but yet also not. You know that when whatever is pooling inside you releases, you will shatter, and you’re not sure you’ll ever be put back together.

Your nails claw across his back hard enough to draw blood and the action forces out some sort of low grumble from his chest that makes you whimper and melt into the mattress. The tip of his nose draws a line up your throat. “Keep doin’ that, baby. Mark me up.”

You don’t dare deny him. You scratch at his skin, desperately trying to pull him closer. His thrusts grow faster and your thighs begin to tremble and shake on his shoulders, overwhelmed with the intensity of all you’re feeling. You pull at him, grab at him, thread your fingers through his hair.

Your body jolts with each thrust and you’re sure you’re going to burst any moment. But you can’t. Not yet. You still need something, something he hasn’t given you yet. He groans and the sound is so delicious that you feel it sliding over your skin and settling in your bones.

“M’ gonna knot you now, princess,” he breathes. “Gonna make you feel so good. Gonna take care ‘ve you.”

You whimper at his words. You hope they’re true. You don’t think you can take much more of the incessant gnawing of need in your gut.

“Please…” your voice is hardly more than a whisper. His breath is hot as it shakes against your neck. He’s licking and nipping at you ravenously, like he needs you just as badly, like he wants to claim you as badly as you want to be claimed.

His thrusts quicken even further and your jaw falls open, neck arching. You don’t think you can hold on much longer. Apparently, neither can he.

You feel it the moment he starts to swell inside you. It’s perfect, you think. It can’t get better than this– but then it does.

His teeth graze your throat again, this time a little harsher and with a little more intent. “Mine,” he whispers. The second he bites you everything goes blurry.

You’re experiencing… heaven. There is a rush of that electricity that buzzes under your skin. It bursts forth and you feel it reaching out, forming a link between the two of you that you know is now impenetrable. It pulses and burns and you can feel him, feel his pleasure, his desire, his need for you and only you– his need to make you his. You think your souls must be blending, merging, with how deep the connection runs. You think you know him, know everything you could possibly ever need to. You know he’s the one. You know he’s yours.

It’s perfect, the way it fulfills every desire you’ve ever had, the way he notches inside your cunt like that’s where he was made to be, the way his teeth clamp around your throat and bond you together forever.

You scream for him, you think, but you can’t tell through the complete and total haze of pleasure. Your walls spasm around him, milking him for every last drop, and you feel the heat of his cum coating your cervix. The heat at your center finally releases, bursting and flooding through you in a way that feels like pure bliss has been injected into your veins. Your thighs quake and tremble with the pure intensity of it all and white spots dot your vision.

His body is tense above you, shivering with the magnitude of what’s just happened. He’s groaning into your neck, your flesh still clamped between his teeth like he never wants to let go. You’re not sure you ever want him to.

Your breaths shake in and out, lungs heaving as you finally come down. His knot is still settled deep inside you and with the few strings of consciousness that slowly filter back into your mind you know that he’ll remain there for a while.

His teeth release from your neck with a squelch that you think you would be sickening in any other context, but only makes you whimper at the loss of contact. He only hums and finds your hand, twining your fingers together as he laps at the fresh bite on your throat. It feels… amazing. Not in the way it felt before, like he was licking pure lust straight onto your skin, but more like he’s giving you a comfort you have never known in your life. You feel safe in his arms, like nothing could ever hurt you here.

His lips press a final kiss to your throat before you feel him shifting. He gently rolls you both onto your sides, getting comfortable and pulling you to his chest while you both wait for the next wave of lust to hit you. It will, you know. Sooner rather than later, too. Your mind has cleared enough to realize what’s happening, what’s to come. You won’t be leaving this room, this bed, for quite some time.

A gentle hand brushes a sweaty lock of hair from your eyes before it settles on the nape of your neck, massaging the sore muscles there. You sigh and raise your gaze to find him already looking at you, an easy smile on his lips. He has dimples, you realize, and he’s… breathtaking. And now… he’s all yours.

There’s a beat of silence between you, a moment of reconciliation with what’s just happened between you, of what it means. You blink up at him, your lips parting to say something, anything, but instead your brows furrow in thought.

His smile drops instantly. He leans into you, thumb caressing your cheek. “What is it, sweetheart?”

Your mouth runs dry. You peek up at him from beneath your lashes. “What’s your name?”

taglist (dm me or send an ask to be added!): @lacheri, @la-undercover-latina, @fushironi, @enchantedsylveon, @keiva1000

link: alpha!geto

link: 1k followers event!

please consider leaving a comment, sending an ask, or reblogging! interacting with authors is the best way to support them! thanks for reading ♡

5K notes · View notes

iliaclwrites · 2 years

Text

everybody’s talkin’ up a storm (act like they don’t notice)

summary: The one where the boys don’t know that Eddie Munson is dating the pretty assistant librarian that always helps them out. Dustin has a crush on her. Mike thinks it’s fake. Erica just wants to get home to watch Thundercats.

“Uh, Eddie?” Lucas started, voice small. “Do you have someone over?”

Eddie blinked. “Uh. Just my girlfriend,” he said flippantly, tossing himself onto the sofa and taking a slow drag of his cigarette. “Keep it down for a while, would ya? She had a long night.”

There was silence.

“Your what?”

warnings: none! wholesome fluff here lmao. a lot of d&d references -- curse of strahd is a banger

“You kids okay?” you asked, setting down the collection of Tolkien books they’d recalled from the front desk. “Fresh out of the returns bin, I thought I’d better bring them over here before I reshelved.”

“Thanks,” Lucas breathed, grabbing the top one from the pile and hauling it open. He’d always liked you. You’d started as assistant librarian two years ago, and had always had a soft spot for them, wheeling them straight to the fantasy section when they’d stumbled in as wide-eyed kids on their first day.

“Now, what’s all this about?” you asked, leaning over to read Dustin’s notes. “Book report? I didn’t think Fellowship was on the syllabus.” You pressed one manicured nail to the paper. “You’ve spelled Lothlorien wrong, honey.”

“You’ve read The Lord of the Rings?” Dustin demanded, his hair flouncing as he peered up at you from his book cavern. “Really? What’s your favourite book? Favourite character?”

You laughed. “The Two Towers, and Faramir,” you said, and chewed on the edge of your thumb. “Pippin is a close second, though. Are you guys just in a book club?” Your eyes lit up as you took a seat next to them, leaning forward conspiratorially. “Can I join?”

“It’s not a book club,” Mike said, and chewed his mouth a moment, obviously debating admitting something. “We’re doing research for a Dungeons and Dragons campaign.”

You stared at them. “You’re in Hellfire?” you asked, and then pulled their notes over to you, nodding at the numbers you saw. “Ah. That makes sense then. Yikes. Five charisma, Lucas, really?”

Lucas yanked his notes back as Dustin’s mouth fell open a little bit more. If that were possible. “You play D&D?” he asked, voice going shrill.

“Dustin, honey, this is a library,” you said, pressing your index finger to your mouth.

“I’m sorry,” he said sarcastically, and lowered his voice to a stage whisper. “You play D&D? You know about Hellfire?”

You snorted, and twisted in the seat, looking very unlike the prim and proper librarian you had been moments ago. The way you were lounging sparked something in Lucas’ brain, something familiar, but he pushed it down. “Do I know about Hellfire,” you muttered, shaking your head. “My brother was the first DM.”

That caused an absolute uproar. Their pencils flew about the room, papers shoving, and you tried to no avail to calm them down. You could feel the gaze of Mrs. Leibniz, head librarian, burning into the back of your skull.

“Boys, boys,” you said, waving your hands. “Okay, Jesus Chr– yikes,” you corrected lamely. “One at a time, one at a time.”

“What did you play?” Mike asked.

“Do you still play?” That was Lucas.

“Do you want to come to Hellfire?” Dustin, sweetly, hopefully.

You smiled at them, twirling a pencil as you cast your mind back. “God, back in the day? I think my character in my Hellfire days, before I was a DM, was an Elven rogue,” you said, nodding as it came back to you. “Tinuviel, of the Woodland Realm. She was such a knockoff Eowyn it’s kind of a wonder Tolkien never sued. I do still play, a little, when my brother has the time to do a oneshot. I can’t come to Hellfire, it clashes with my shifts. Satisfied?”

The boys nodded, and you smiled at them firmly, glancing down at a sheet of paper. There was a beat of silence, and then –

“Wait, sorry, did you say you DM?” Mike said, twisting in his seat to look at you.

You shrugged. “We had a rotating DM base back then,” you said, scratching the back of your head. Again, the motion pinged something in Lucas’ skull, but he wasn’t sure what. “Once my brother left, I shared the year with Eddie Munson – you guys must know Eddie, right?”

They nodded. You leaned forward conspiratorially.

“I made him cry when he faced down Strahd.”

“No way,” Lucas said, rocking back in his chair. Your hand shot out, slamming it back onto four feet before he would tumble. “Shit, I mean, dang. Sorry. But you made him cry?”

You grinned, remembering it fondly. “Yeah,” you said, and Mike saw your librarian persona totally slip away in exchange for a totally feral smile. “He didn’t speak to me for a weak after he died. God. Good times.”

“You’re crazy,” Dustin said, pointing a pencil at you, “and you’re everything we need.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“It’s simple,” he said, pointing at the paper. “You can help us outwit Eddie. Run circles around him. You’ve almost definitely played Rahasia before. He won’t know what hit him!”

You wrinkled your nose. “Dustin, honey, doesn’t that defeat the whole purpose of D&D?” you asked, and he shrugged. “You’re better off without me, kids. Just–” You stopped, looking up at them from under your eyelashes. “Does Eddie still do that thing when he DMs, where he, like,” you chewed your bottom lip, “starts singing?”

“I hate the singing,” Mike groaned, and Lucas nodded in agreement. “He writes all these songs! And then he sings them! Sometimes with guitar!”

“It’s great for worldbuilding,” Lucas said quickly, “but. It does go on for a bit.”

You bit back a smile. “Some things never change.”

Dustin shot you a quick grin. “We’re actually going to Hellfire after school today,” he said, “if you want to come with us? Break out that old Elf rogue.”

You shook your head. “I’m a Halfling now,” you said, quirking up a smile. “Rindi, of the Shire. Master thief. Besides, it’d clash with my shifts. And then where would I be? You don’t think you guys are my only kids, do you?”

With that, you stood up, leaning over to whisper, “If you’re playing Rahasia, make sure you’ve got a bone dagger on you,” before moving back to the reshelving trolley. “Good luck, boys! Tell Eddie I say hi!”

“Hey Eddie,” Dustin chirped as he headed into Hellfire. “We bumped into an old friend of yours at lunch.”

He quirked an eyebrow, munching on a sandwich from his backpack. “Uh-huh?” Eddie said, not really listening to him. “And?”

Dustin shrugged, and looked at Eddie slyly. “Tinuviel says hi.”

Eddie blinked, and swung his leg down from where he was sprawled across the chair. “You met my girl!” he crowed, throwing the sandwich down onto the table, sending bits of lettuce careening across the minifigures. “She’s a spitfire, that one.”

“She’s the assistant librarian,” Mike supplied helpfully, and Eddie shot him a weird look.

“I know,” he responded, furrowing his brows. “We’re literally on the same campus, like, all the time.”

Mike flushed. That much was obvious.

“Anyway, enough chitty-chatty,” Eddie said, and leant over the gameboard. “You last left Rahasia in the dark of the night, exhausted and weary from a skirmish…”

“Hi,” Dustin said to you, meekly. You peered over at him from the books you were checking back in, locked up in a cavernous stack of AP Calculus texts and editions of Hamlet. “This is. This is kind of a weird question. You don’t have to say yes.”

You shoved some of the books out of the way to look at him, and pressed your glasses up your nose. “Hey, everything okay?” you asked, gesturing for him to take a seat. “Take deep breaths, Dustin.”

He shook his hair out. “Well,” he said, taking his hat off and holding it in front of him like a Regency era gentleman. “It’s my birthday next Saturday–”

“Happy birthday,” you said automatically, and he shot you a nervous smile.

“I was wondering. Well, we were wondering. Mike, Lucas, and me,” he clarified, “if you’d like to come over and play a oneshot campaign with us? I’m DMing for my birthday, and it’s my first time, and I’m kind of nervous. It’d be really cool to have more people in the party.”

You winced. “Dustin, honey,” you said, and pulled another returned copy of Hamlet toward you. “That’s not really appropriate. I’m a teacher here.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re an assistant librarian,” he countered. “Plus, you know what you’re doing! It’ll be fun!”

You scratched the side of your nose, glancing down and away from him. “Sweetie, I’m sorry. It’s against policy, I can’t just show up. I could get into a lot of trouble.” You shot him a smile, unhappy with how crushed he seemed to be. “Look, look, tell you what,” you said, pressing your thumb to your mouth and chewing at the nail as you scrawled out your shift timings. “If you meet me in the library on the days you don’t have Hellfire, I’ll help you with your oneshot, okay?”

He brightened. “I get to hang out with you?”

You blinked stupidly. “Uh. Yeah, I guess,” you offered, and shoved the paper toward him. “I’m kind of rusty, but I’ll see what I can do. How many are in the party?”

“The usual Hellfire guys,” he said, “so four. Oh, and Lucas’ sister. So five,” Dustin said, and you nodded, wheels in your brain turning as you tried to think of a good campaign for them that’d be finished in time. “You’d really help me with this?”

You grinned, and nudged his elbow with your pen. “Once in Hellfire, always in Hellfire, kiddo,” you said, and he shoved his bookbag down on the table. “Hey!”

“You’re free now,” he said, pointing at the sheet, and started pulling reams of paper from his bag. “I was thinking, like, a desert campaign. You know. Caravans and camels, that sort of thing.”

You bit back a fond smile, and watched as he laid out the bare bones of his first ever Dungeon Master session.

“There you are,” said a voice, after nearly half an hour of you helping Dustin build the stats of his Lizardfolk NPC, and you grinned at the sight of Eddie Munson standing near the desk. “Dude, we thought you died. You’re gonna miss lunch. Heya, teech,” he added, winking at you.

You smiled up at him beatifically, and pushed Dustin’s papers back toward him. “Hey, honey,” you said to Eddie, and glanced back at your desk. “You’re gonna do great, Dustin. Don’t worry about it, okay? You’re a natural.”

“Can I come back?” Dustin said quickly, and Eddie glanced down at him in surprise. “Like. To work on the campaign. With you. Here. Or other places. So it’s perfect. You know.” He smiled again, and you sighed, rubbing your temples.

“Of course you can, Dustin,” you said, and looked up at Eddie above Dustin’s head. “He wants me to help build out his birthday campaign.”

Eddie grinned, and clapped his hands on Dustin’s shoulders. “And you’re enlisting my girl Tinuviel?” he asked, and Dustin smiled nervously up at him. “There have never been safer hands, my friend. This will be a campaign to remember.”

With one hand on Dustin’s head, Eddie wheeled him out of the room, before turning around surreptitiously to blow a kiss at you. You jumped up from the desk slightly to catch it, nuzzling it softly, before biting down viciously at the fake kiss. Eddie gasped in horror, and shielded his eyes, parting his hands slightly to shoot you a wink before he vanished out the door.

It was a few days of this, of Dustin appearing in the library at lunch with an apple for you in one hand and a binder in the other, as the deadline of his birthday loomed. You helped him take detailed note of his characters – who did what voices, where did people stay, what was a catchphrase you could use to slip into character. He was sweet. You understood why Eddie was so fond of him.

“You’re gonna do great,” you told Dustin on the Friday, as he was packing his things up. “Seriously. I wasn’t this prepared for my first campaign. Just remember to keep your character sheets–”

“Right where I can find them,” Dustin agreed, zipping up his backpack. “Thank you. I’m really sorry you can’t come.”

You shrugged. “Policy is policy,” you said, and ruffled his hair. “Knock ‘em dead, champ.”

“What do you mean we can’t use the room?” Dustin demanded, staring up at the custodian. “I booked it today! I need it!”

The custodian shrugged, grimacing as he turned back to the door. “Pipe’s faulty in there,” he said, scratching under his chin. “We need to seal the area. Should be fine in the morning.” He paused. “You got stuff in there? We can get it out before it gets too wet.”

Dustin groaned. “Party’s off,” he said, crossing his arms across his chest. “Unless you want to play an underwater level.”

Mike sighed. The rest of Hellfire were gathered around the door, looking at it despondently. After a long moment of silence, Eddie turned to them, looking more serious than he ever had before.

“Okay,” he said. “We can use my trailer–” They chorused a cheer, but he held up a hand. “Best behaviour, okay? We spent all week cleaning that thing up, and I can actually see my reflection in the countertops now, so if any of you fuck my hard work up I’ll rip your tiny little balls off.” He paused, and looked at Erica. “Or, uh. Lady balls.”

“Freak,” said Erica.

They piled into Eddie’s van, Dustin calling shotgun, as they careened down the road to Eddie’s trailer park. The windows were open to the trailer, and laundry was hung on the line, Eddie snatching a shirt from it as they walked in. Lucas stared at the pairs of bras dangling from the line. Hold the fucking phone.

“Yeesh, yeesh, keep it down,” Eddie said, settling the kids down at his trestle table. “God, I never should’ve let you guys drink all that Coke. Sugar is bad for you, you know?”

“You’re smoking,” Erica said bluntly, and Eddie nodded sagely.

“That’s because I’m grown,” he told her. “I can do what I like.”

Inside the trailer, Lucas froze. There was a pair of shoes by the door, heeled, small. He blinked. He knew those shoes from somewhere. “Uh, Eddie?” he started, voice small. “Do you have someone over?”

Eddie blinked. “Uh. Just my girlfriend,” he said flippantly, tossing himself onto the sofa and taking a slow drag of his cigarette. “Keep it down for a while, would ya? She had a long night.”

There was silence.

“Your what?” Mike practically yelled, Dustin and Lucas joining. “Since when have you had a girlfriend? Why have you never brought her to Hellfire? What the hell–”

“What the hell is going on?”

Their heads snapped up to see you, standing blearily in Eddie’s doorway and rubbing at one eye with the cuff of Eddie’s shirt, hanging loose over your frame. Dustin screamed. You flinched, before pulling your hand from your face to stare at the group. “Uh.”

There was a long pause.

“You’re not wearing pants,” Erica said, helpfully, and you vanished back into the room with a squeak, before reappearing in a pair of shorts.

“Eddie,” you hissed, and your boyfriend looked at you askance. “Why in the goddamn – cover your ears,” you barked at the kids, “everloving fuck are the kids in the house?”

“That’s not the important question,” Dustin hissed. “What are you doing in Eddie’s trailer?”

Eddie froze, his head darting between the two of you like a lost puppy. “Dude,” Eddie said, looking at Dustin in confusion. “She lives here.”

“She’s your girlfriend?!” Mike demanded, staring at you in shock. You blinked the sleep blearily from your eyes, and head over to the counter, pouring instant coffee into a mug while shooting daggers at Eddie – he was mouthing, sorry sorry sorry. “The assistant librarian?”

“Uh. Yeah?” Eddie said, his eyes jumping from each of the kids’ expressions. “You guys didn’t know?”

“No, we did not know!” Dustin snapped, and you swallowed a tentative sip of coffee, coming out from the kitchen to stand by Eddie. “You never mentioned having a girlfriend!”

“I’m pretty sure I did,” Eddie said, turning around to look at you. You were unimpressed. “I’m literally always saying, I gotta go see my girl, or hey that’s my girl.”

“Oh,” Lucas said dumbly. “I thought that was about your guitar.”

You snorted so hard you felt the coffee shoot up your nose. Dustin looked crushed.

“My gui– You guys seriously think that looking like this, I hadn’t snatched up the prettiest girl in Hawkins High in my time?” Eddie demanded, tugging you by the beltloop of your shorts to come closer to him. “Guys. Come on. I was beating them off with a stick.”

Your hand settled in Eddie’s hair, sleep still making you hazy. “You asked me out fifteen times, Munson,” you muttered, and he swatted at your scratching fingers. “One time you even wrote me a song.”

“Shut up,” Eddie hissed.

“But– we never see you guys together,” Dustin said, voice going slightly shrill at the end. He was alternating between staring at you, and then at Eddie, and then at you, over and over that you thought he’d get motion sickness.

“I’m a librarian,” you said, not unkindly, coming to perch on the arm of the sofa as Eddie’s hand settling lazily across your thighs. “I can’t exactly come sit at the lunch table, Dustin.”

“That checks out,” Lucas muttered to Mike, who was still taking in the scene. “Like. Damn. Uh. Congrats, I guess?”

“Thank you,” Eddie said, sending you a genuinely happy smile before squeezing your thigh. “Sorry for the wakeup, Tinuviel. Hellfire flooded.”

You hissed sympathetically. “Yikes.”

“I’m sorry, this is great and all,” Erica said, and put her hands on her hips. “But are we ever gonna play this campaign? Because there’s an episode of Thundercats tonight, and I never miss Thundercats.”

You bite back a laugh, and disentangle yourself from Eddie. “You guys set up. I’ll –” You glanced back at the kitchen thoughtfully. “Dustin, sweetie, do you like cake?”

“Um.” Dustin blinked a few times. “Yeah?”

“Then happy birthday. I’ll bake you one.” You smiled sweetly as you headed into the kitchen portion of the trailer, sipping your coffee thoughtfully as you heard the boys start to interrogate Eddie about the relationship. “Oh, and Dustin?”

His head snapped up, sheepishly pulling away from where he was furtively whispering with your boyfriend. “Yes?”

You winked. “Save me a seat. Tinuviel’s coming out of the woodwork.”

(You and Eddie had met in middleschool, with his hair buzzed short and yours long enough to reach the small of your back. There was a copy of the Lord of the Rings that was two weeks overdue, after a lot of begging and pleading with Mrs Leibniz (Miss Franks, back then), she had finally released the culprit’s name to you.

You shoved Eddie in the playground and demanded he return the book, standing on top of the sandpit in a blaze of righteous fury.

Eddie asked you to be his girlfriend there and then.

It took three years, ten campaigns, and one drunken proposal after prom night for you to finally say yes.)

#eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female character #eddie munson x female original character #stranger things #guys something i wrong with me

10K notes · View notes

seddair · 2 years

Text

Hmm

#not sure what to make of the direction this is all headed #they made it sound like there was some impending doom that was going to be hinted at but they really didn’t do that???#unless i missed something every storyline was wrapped up for the most part #it does seem like lucy is going to still be around maybe as a recurring character or something #not really sure #they didn’t really lean into the b*ckl*cy thing either though #so i’m not entirely sure what the point of them kissing was?? i assumed that there was going to be at least some follow up to it #but after 5x13 it never really came up again #taylor was seemingly jealous of lucy in 5x16 but she didn’t technically know about the kiss (unless we’re supposed to assume she figured it+#out there???) and even then there was no follow up to that either??? what was the point of that scene lmao #was that the show letting us know that b*ckl*cy is supposed to be something to watch for? because ????????#idk man that whole storyline was weird and not totally cohesive #either they made a shift in the direction they wanted to take this or they’re gonna tease b*ckl*cy out more next season #not really surprised about the lack of queer eddie bc he’s probably not real lol #they once again had opportunities to take this somewhere that they just… didn’t take #it’s cool that buck and eddie are both single now but that probably does not mean shit lmao #and i feel the b*ckl*cy string is not done being pulled yet #so buck may not be single for long #we’ll see though i guess #5b was good but was a tad all over the place #with some events that were never really properly followed up on #season 5 as a whole was meh #5a was pretty bad but 5b was a definite improvement #better than season 4 though i guess? idk it’s close #season 2 and 3 clear though #anyway #ignore my ranting

0 notes

satoruwiki · 3 months

Note

Could you write something with Todo sometime?

✦ ₊˚୭ DRESS UP FOR ME ❜ .⊹꒷₊

MINORS, AGELESS AND BLANK BLOGS DNI !!

content: nsfw; smut; porn w no plot; afab!reader; fem!reader; implied relationship; public sex; unprotected sex (oops); creampie

w.c: 1k

n/a: i had to look up todo’s age, i almost did not write abt him lol. got inspired by that one pic of amber heard cosplaying as a overwatch character bc apparently elon musk said she looked like her and then proceeded to have seggs w the cosplay on lmao. english isn’t my first language and im still a rookie at writing so bear with me please! any feedback/request/interaction supporting this post is very much appreciated :b

You stared at yourself through your phone camera, fixing minimum details on your hair and makeup, making sure you looked perfect and snapped some pictures of your outfit, happy with the result.

“How do I look?” You asked, doing a little spin to show your whole outfit, turning around to look at your boyfriend, who stood on the door frame, leaning his weight against it. “I think I did a pretty good job, especially with the makeup; what do you think?” You fidgeted with your fingers in anticipation, hoping for his approval. After all, the biggest Takada fan here was him.

Todo was speechless. The fact that you took your time to cosplay his favourite idol had his heart rattling in his chest and his cock half-hard by how good you looked right now.

"You look great, breathtaking even," Words faltered to describe what you were making him feel right now, his mind already flooding with thoughts of what he'd do to you if he had the time right now.

You giggled, standing on tiptoe to give him a short kiss. "Thank you, baby. Let's go to that meet and greet before we're late."

"Fuck- Baby, I’m sorry. I know I said I'd wait till we got home but- " Todo groaned, groping the fat of your ass as he pumped in and out of you languidly. He wasn't actually sorry, but he hoped you could forgive him for putting you in a compromising situation like this, at a convention of all places. “I can’t keep my hands off you when you look like this, so cute f'me,” He sighed, his eyes fixed on his girth thrusting in and out and stretching your tight cunt.

You covered your mouth to silence your moans, the adrenaline rushing through your veins as Todo fucked you in the bathroom stall. Your heart pounded in your ears, you weren't sure if it was the fear of being caught in the act that made you feel more sensitive than usual, but every stroke of his cock in your insides had you on the edge. His touch burned under your skin, the air thick with your gasps and his.

"Todo, let's go home," you sobbed between quiet moans; it was becoming more difficult to quiet your sounds as his shaft kept rutting into you and you got closer to your peak, your legs quivering as the band of coiling pleasure was about to snap.

He bent over to whisper in your ear, his cologne filling your nostrils. He always smelled so good that it made you moan. "And have other men come to you and ask for pictures?" Todo clicked his teeth disapprovingly, "Nah, we're not leaving without me marking you. Let them know that Takada's cute cosplayer has a man who has her crazy for his cock," He hissed, pressing his lips on the side of your neck. You winced, feeling his mouth nibble and suck at your skin, bruising it.

So that's why Todo was so adamant about dragging you into the washroom stall and fuck you right here right now. His jealousy had gotten the better of him when he noticed other men - losers, in his words- looking at you with the same eyes he did.

"Besides, you're close, aren't you? I can feel this pretty pussy throbbing and squeezing me so good," Todo panted, his cock twitching inside you as his broad hand slipped underneath your top, pushing your bra upside to fondle your breast, playing with your hardened nipple, your whole body shuddering underneath him.

You let out a breathy sigh, borderline a whine, your pretty face contorting into a scowl, nipping at your lip to stifle your moans. You'd never get used to the girth of his cock and how full it made you feel, nor its length, feeling its thrusts kissing your cervix so deliciously up to your throat, having your breath hitching and ragged and your mind clouded.

"Todo, harder, please," you begged, turning to look at him through your glassy eyes, meeting his thrusts striking your ass against his hips.

"Are you sure, baby, you want the whole world to hear how slutty you can be when I pound your pussy?" You nodded, a pout forming on your lips, needy whines escaping you.

Todo straightened his posture, his hand sliding back to your hips, his grip firm on them; something about you cosplaying his favourite idol and being so into getting fucked in public had his cock throbbing and him going feral. "You little minx, you're gonna get us in trouble," Todo grunted lowly, a lascive grin tugging the corner of his lips, "But I can't say no to you when you look so fucking hot like this."

He picked up his pace, his hips slamming against your ass, the sounds of squelching and smacking flesh loud enough to be heard outside the washroom. "Just stay as quiet as you can, okay, doll?" Todo grunted, babbling about how tight your soppy pussy felt once he went rougher with you, pressing his hand on your belly to feel his dick massaging your walls.

You arched your back, his cock going deeper inside you, pounding that spot that had you seeing stars and drooling.

Your walls spasmed and contracted, moaning his name. Todo's thrusts became sloppy, slow but rough. "Holy fuuuckk- always so fuckin' good, you always know how to take my cock," his breath shattered, emptying himself inside you in one final powerful thrust. You whimpered, his warm load gushing out of you and littering the floor beneath you.

"Shit, such a mess you made, babe," he said, caressing the side of your ass cheek before pulling out, tucking himself back in his slacks and putting your underwear back in place - he still wanted you to keep some of his cum inside you till you got back home so he could keep fucking you good.

"You alright? I didn't mess too much of your makeup, did I?"

321 notes · View notes

drabbles-mc · 2 months

Text

Help Me Out

Bob Floyd x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, alcohol, nervous Bob, Hangman being a little bit of a dick

With the help of This Prompt List by @creativepromptsforwriting and my trusty Wheel of Names with every character I’ve ever written for, I’m aiming to write a fic in 500 words or less every day of March. We’ll see how far we get!

Prompt: blooming

Word Count: 500

A/N: i almost broke my 500-word maximum for this challenge over these two lmao. maybe i'll come back to them sometime down the road because i do adore them so 🥰

You were no stranger to the shenanigans that were always taking place at The Hard Deck. While the place was known as a home away from home for all the people stationed at the Naval base, you were just lucky enough to be a local.

Over the years you’d watched countless officers come and go, some returning, some happier about it than others. You didn’t really know many of them, and even fewer of them knew you, but you were okay with that. The nature of it all was so fleeting anyway.

You were about to order yourself another drink when a man sauntered up next to you. You ignored him for a couple seconds until you felt how his stare wasn’t diverting from you. Letting out a sigh, you turned to face him.

“Can I help you…” you looked at the tag pinned to his uniform, “Seresin?”

He chuckled, unbothered by your tone. “Me? No.” He shook his head to emphasize his point before gesturing to a group lingering over by the billiards tables. “But I’m thinking maybe you could help my friend out over there.”

You were about to ask which ‘friend’ he was referring to when you realized that out of the handful of men on the other side of the bar, all except one of them were laughing, and the one who wasn’t had a dark red blush blooming across his cheeks. He might’ve been the only man in that bar you’d ever felt real sympathy for and you didn’t even know his name.

“Doesn’t look like he wants any help.”

“Oh, he does. He just doesn’t know it.”

“Look, I’m not—”

“Bobby!” he cut you off as he waved his friend over, “Come by this girl a drink.”

If it were possible, you were certain that he would’ve melted off the stool he was sitting on and rendered himself a puddle on the floor. Since he couldn’t swing that, though, he forced himself to stand and nervously make his way over to you.

When he arrived, Seresin clapped him on the back with a smirk that spelled out nothing good. “Whatever the lady wants, alright?” He laughed as he started walking away. “Little pick-me-up for both of you.”

His eyes were glued to the floor for the world’s longest five seconds before he looked back up at you, face still a deep red. “I’m real sorry, miss. He just—”

“What was your name?” you asked, tone soft and kind.

He cleared his throat. “B-Bob.”

You smiled and gestured to the empty stool beside you. “Sit. Next round on me, Bob, alright?”

He shook his head as he sat down. “You really don’t have to—”

You leaned in, putting your hand on top of his, noticing how his eyes blew wide open for a moment. “I want to. Besides,” your eyes darted towards where the rest of his crew was standing and watching, “serves them right.”

Face still pink, he smiled and nodded. “O-okay.”

#top gun #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #bob floyd #robert floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd x you #x reader #x reader fic #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc #bob floyd fanfiction

166 notes · View notes

lunarw0rks · 9 months

Note

Can I request a Philip Graves NSFW Alphabet

A/N: On second thought, I don't dislike his character as much as I thought I did... No particular reason, or anything 🫣

Warning(s): explicit content (18+), smut

Word Count: 3k

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GRAVES MASTERLIST // have a request? ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ ao3 ver.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Not the most delicate, but he tries, and that’s what matters.

Very cocky after sex, but that doesn’t diminish him from making sure his partner is alright (a glass of water, a caress of the reddened marks forming, etc.) Most common with him, some harmless jokes coming from his lips at your expense, all while he’s fixing the stray strands of hair he messed up in the process.

[ ❝ i’m not laughing at you, just couldn’t resist that look on your face, sweetheart ❞ ]

[ ❝ you’re not all shy now, are you? ❞ ]

In terms of actual aftercare, he would keep it short and sweet, handing you clothing items sent flying minutes before. Despite just doing the deed, Graves would turn his back and allow you to redress yourself, no matter how silly the gesture seemed in comparison to what he’d just done to you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On himself—not a body part, but his cheek scar. He thinks it makes him look super sexy, and definitely shows it off in photos. When he first met his S/O, he was practically crossing his fingers that they would ask about it, so he could heavily embellish its origin.

On a partner—an ass man through and through, no matter his partner's figure. His fingers roam constantly, resting on your hips and sliding downwards until he can cup it. It’s not always sexual, either, sometimes he just somewhere to rest his hands on you.

Just how many times did he ogle it before you two even said a word to one another? An embarrassing amount… And after there’s an established relationship? He doesn’t even try to hide it unless he’s around his coworkers.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

It’s no secret, he likes cumming inside the most when he’s allowed.

But even if he is, there’s one place he likes even more—the chest. Whether his partner is fem or masc., he likes when it drips from their cleavage/sternum all the way down to the in between your thighs. It’s like his own personal way of marking his S/O, an he pictures when he needs a quick fantasy.

And there’s definitely a lot of it. Like, a lot. Sometimes, he wonders how there’s any left for the second round.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

(W/ prior consent, duh) Perhaps it’s his southern upbringing, his religious guilt for having such an “impure” fantasy. But a mix of corruption kink + bimbofication is his dirty secret—a partner whos clueless when it comes to sex, but also when he’s flirting with them, batting their lashes and fussing over their appearance. One where he can be their first, one where he has to explain each thing he’s doing, to talk the brainless partner through it, etc…

[ ❝ I bet you’ve never even touched yourself… ❞ ]

[ ❝ touch yourself, right there… keep going. ❞ ]

[ ❝ you never done this before, hm? Does that feel good? ❞ ]

Even if he does this “roleplay” with a partner that’s not sexually inexperienced, or has a personality completely opposite to the one in the fantasy… if they’re willing to play the role, to let him indulge in it, he’d melt.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He definitely wasn’t always good at it, the man-whore lifestyle grew on him (lmao)

Years in the service, most of his intimacy was hookups, until he advanced through the ranks enough to mature and reserve more time for his romantic life. Though those serious relationships often fell apart, he gained a lot of skills from them—sexually, not with his communication.

By no means, is he a sex God, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know exactly what to do. As clueless as he is when it comes to nuisance or social cues, when intimacy is involved, Graves is surprisingly adaptable.

You didn’t like that, but you loved this? We’ll never do that other thing again, then—that type of attitude.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary—I mean, look at him. But that doesn’t mean it's not a stimulating experience; not at all. His partner’s legs would be as spread and controlled as he wanted them to be. His absolute favorite variation would be one leg up on his shoulder, the other hooked around his waist, that way both parties get the best angle, and he can keep a firm hand on his S/O’s thigh.

Cowgirl (+ reverse)—Adores it, probably would choose it every time if he didn’t enjoy switching things up so much. He has a full view of his S/O, all his favorite parts on display, whether they are facing him or not—and his hands can roam. Fingers dig into thighs, light smacks on their backside, gripping the chin to force a kiss, probably all in a matter of seconds.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Tries so hard to be a hardass, but it doesn’t suit him.

Sure, if there’s some roleplay involved, he can play that serious, dominant part with ease. But, casual intimacy with a partner? There’s a grimace on his face, or he’s chuckling at your reactions to his movements, whispering little lighthearted comments.

Being serious all day long has its downsides, so why not have a little fun… while having the other kind of fun? ;)

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Very well groomed, but not bald down there.

His hair doesn’t grow very thick, or very rapidly, so it’s relatively simple for him to keep it contained. The hair that is down there is super short, more like a short, blonde stubble.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Quite romantic, when the mood is right. A special day for you two, or a good day in general? He’s especially tender.

But I don’t get the feeling he would take too much time with his S/O… it’s not in his nature. There wouldn’t be candles or music, or rose petals, but his charming words and skilled hands would make up for any lack of showiness.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Probably has a strict routine, to do it every morning or every night, purely to relieve the stresses of his job, as opposed to pleasure. Sometimes, he’ll do it just to get to sleep that night, or when he’s deployed for months at a time and misses his S/O.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Crying kink: most arousing if his S/O wears eye makeup and it's ruined by the time he’s done, running down their cheeks from the tears brimming. Though he wouldn’t do it often, there might be some pain inflicted to induce the tears (w/ prior consent).

Dumbification kink: heavy on this one, because he knows he’s doing something right. Once his partner is unable to form sentences or let out sounds too loud to properly respond to him, it’s a rush to his ego. Though he likes verbal feedback, hell, even a conversation in the middle of sex, them being too deep in their own pleasure to speak is a turn-on for him.

Breath play (receiving): to put it bluntly, he’s too terrified to try this on a partner, for fear of hurting them. But to be choked by his S/O, or the air restricted in some other way, it’s definitely a lowkey turn-on for him. But, somehow he still remains in charge, all while gasping for air.

Breeding kink: quite vocal about this one, and he wants kids someday, so why not? (w/ prior consent) When not involving the whole pregnancy aspect, it’s just a pretty sight to look at for him—the aftermath of it oozing out and down his partner’s thighs.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He’s quite picky with his locations. Bed or car, those are his two most common places, anywhere else is pretty rare for him. Of course, there would be some sex in his office once in a blue moon, but that’s about as far as he would go.

Bed—there’s way more opportunity for movement, less strain on each other’s bodies, and it’s somewhere you’re both familiar with. On the plus side, it’s much easier to strip and change the sheets, rather than sanitize an odd location after the deed.

Car—(Just look at him, he has a pickup truck. Don’t fight me on this) It’s purely his own fantasy, fucking his partner in his truck, especially when he’s on the move, or Graves simply couldn’t wait until you made it home. Definitely would keep a hand on your thigh during the drive, or if he was hinting at some car sex, it would slowly tease until you cave.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Visual teasing turns him on the most because he wants the smooth (or dirty 👀) talking to be left to him.

Most commonly, and most unbeknownst to you, when you’re busy with a task while wearing one of his shirts. (filling the dryer, placing a dish in the dishwasher, even just scrolling on your phone while bent over the counter). Even when fully clothed, it gets him, but most of all if you’re only wearing underwear underneath his shirt. Better yet, if you’re wearing nothing at all.

And he doesn’t always act on these motivations, sometimes he can’t because he’s halfway out the door. Other times, he just wants to savor the image as long as possible, to release the pent-up sexual frustration later, when it had all day to simmer.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

There’s a lot he would do for his partner, but anything involving weapons, genuine pain, he won’t do it. If his partner wanted to roleplay, say some dub-con, he would do it just for them.

But full-on non-con, no preparation, no reciprocation, even if it’s just an act? He’s not into it. It’s not just vocal reassurances he needs, it’s physical—his partner touching him, wetness, begging, etc. He won’t be satisfied unless he can physically see them want it.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Giving—an acquired taste for him, because he was once very inexperienced and awkward about it. It was never something that grossed him out or something he refused, but he was more worried about not doing it properly, despite how much his partner might be receptive to it. To make up for it, he always uses his hands at the same time, a sure way to make it pleasurable, just in case his tongue isn’t enough. Once he gets going though, once he learns every little sweet spot, he’s not coming up for air until he thinks the time is right.

Receiving—hear me out; I don’t think he enjoys getting head nearly as much as the average man. Of course, he would indulge himself if his partner was willing, perhaps wanting it every so often, but I feel it’s a rarity for him. When he does, he’s surprisingly gentle, only guiding his partner's head a small amount, and he prefers if the pace is slow and sloppy. He wouldn’t force you to your knees, bruise your throat, or yank your hair, not unless it was a fantasy of yours, of course.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Shockingly, he’s quite rough and fast, despite how unadorned his preferences are. In the act’s entirety, his pace is quick and rough, but not painful. He starts slow, but after being given any look of approval, he goes his usual unrelenting pace, all while his hands remain delicate. If his partner enjoys the fast pace, it’s perfect, and he would go until his body couldn’t.

If not: Once he’s gotten his climax, or he’s satisfied himself, he’s willing to go slower in favor of his partner’s pleasure, and only theirs. In fact, it’s almost immediately after he finishes—he doesn’t remove himself but slows himself to ensure his S/O will be just as satisfied. Slow, but deep thrusts no matter the position, just until they’ve finished.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He has a love/hate dynamic with quickies.

Little “joyrides” where he parks abruptly and has his way? Can’t get enough of it, and it’s merely a recurring fantasy. The same as, a quickie before he leaves for work? Finds it incredibly sexy if his partner stops him just before he’s out the door.

But, when his work is in the way of taking all the time he wants with you? That’s when he yearns for more time with his S/O, to get things done properly.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Not often, unless you were really adamant about trying something new or risky. He’s pretty set in his ways, and he already knows what he likes.

[ ❝ you would like that, wouldn’t you? I’ll remember that… ❞ ]

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

A few rounds, give or take.

He’s at his peak stamina when it’s been a while since you two had sex.

Besides, he’ll say he’s ❝ pacing himself ❞ when in actuality, he wants to make his partner need him, especially if they get desperate enough to outright ask for more. It’s a boost to his ego, it’s arousing, and you’ve affirmed his skills, all in one.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

During sex, he probably wouldn’t use them on his partner, unless they really, truly wanted him to. What better, than making them finish with only parts of his body? But if you want to add a toy to the mix, he’s not going to stop you, either.

Graves would be pretty clueless when it comes to toys, having never used one on himself or a partner. He’d be especially shocked if his S/O had their own already, but it’s not a threat—it’s a turn-on, for him to think about, how they satisfy themselves when it’s not him doing it. Deep down, he wants you to send him pictures using them, or suggestive messages when he’s away for months at a time.

To put it simply—he would rather visualize you using them solo, as opposed to him doing it to you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Outside of sex, as an act of foreplay or verbal teasing? He could do it all day; snide remarks to get his S/O needy touches that only last seconds, a suggestive noise/phrase coming out of his mouth like it's nothing.

[ ❝ Fuck… ❞ ] he practically moans it, waiting for the moan to draw you in, then: [ ❝ …this dinner is amazing ❞ ]

But as soon as you’re undressed in front of him? He wouldn’t be able to stand his own teasing for long, because all he wants is to get down to business. He would rather hear his partner finish, than whine when deprived of it, if that makes sense.

To be frank, he’s probably needier than any of his partners, always wanting to be bottomed out and making them feel the same pleasure he is.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Doesn’t look like it, but he’s quite vocal. Often similar to the intro of this video (Not p^rn, just a tiktok edit, I promise).

It’s constant talking, sometimes praise, other times he’s having a conversation with you in between his grunts. When he’s close, they become more drawn out and low, though his pace is only quickening.

[ ❝ almost there, sweetheart. Then I’ll do it again, just for you. ❞ ]

[ ❝ so sexy… and just for me. ❞ ]

[ ❝ love hearing you enjoy yourself like this, honey. ❞ ]

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

This might be a strange one, but bear with me.

He secretly loves being on medical-leave, stuck at home and laid up, (not seriously injured), because he loves being fussed over deep down. Who doesn’t love soup brought to your bedside, extra cuddles at night… and a few favors ;) to ❝ ease his pain ❞

Plus, he doesn’t have to worry about getting up early and leaving you the next day, so your favor could go on for quite awhile…

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Body type: He’s lean and toned, but heavily defined. Relatively hairless on his chest, and back, even his happy trail isn’t very noticeable. Graves doesn’t look like someone with that much muscular definition, until he flexes or exerts himself.

In the pants: Above average in size, but not overly girthy, and it naturally curves upward very slightly. 2.5” IN girth, 4” IN when soft—6.8” IN when hard.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Quite high when he’s around his partner because they’re there to reciprocate it. But, surprisingly low when he’s away. He’s truly too stressed and exhausted to be thinking about sex, only does when he gets morning wood or has to relieve some of that tension by himself.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Doesn’t sleep much as it is, and he seems like the type to not sleep after sex.

The pillow talk continues, even if his partner’s eyes have drooped shut and they’re not listening to a word he’s saying. Head on his chest, or vice versa, talking about how good it was or probably telling some funny story about when he got stranded in the desert.

[ ❝ you’re better than I deserve, lettin’ me do that to you. ❞ ]

Sometimes, he’ll go back to his paperwork mere minutes after, a small apology escaping his lips when he does so. [ ❝ sorry, darlin’ ❞ ] or if the act was cut short, he’s not opposed to keeping one of his unoccupied hands on you (take that how you want).

#task force 141 #call of duty #mw2 #mw2 fanfic #task force 141 x reader #shadow company #phillip graves #commander graves #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves smut #phillip graves cod #phillip graves x you #modern warefare ii

603 notes · View notes