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victoria-grimesss · 9 months

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->Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!Reader

->Words: 4.7k

->Warning: MDNI! unprotected sex, rough sex, fingering, mask stays partially on, dirty talk.

->Summary: Working alongside the 141 for a year now, you’ve grown closer to the infamous ghost. Confiding in Soap about your crush, confession is the only way to rid yourself of the gnawing infatuation.

->A/N: Despite all my writing being about König, ghost is my all time favorite baby girl, writing for him always intimidated me but I’ll give it my best shot, hope he’s not too OOC.

It’s been a full year on the 141 and you couldn't be happier, well not happy at the moment since you’re ankle deep in sludge. This mission is going as well as any other despite the evac being miles away through humid weather and wet ground.

“Good thing I packed extra socks.” You muttered, readjusting your gun and pack and unsticking your boot from a deep pocket of mud.

“Oh come on lass it could be worse right? We could be treading through anaconda infested waters huh? Lighten up.” Soap is next to you. He's having an easier time removing his boots from the muck.

Price is in the front with Gaz next to him talking about the evac and rations, you admire their relationship. Price has slowly morphed into some kind of a father figure to you as you assume he did for Gaz too or at least a mentor. Gaz and Soap are like brothers to you, you bicker like such. You pick on Soap when he gets too drunk to form correct sentences and starts singing songs from his childhood, and you get Gaz too when he laughs so hard you have to remind him to breathe. Like a dynamic triangle the three of you.

Then there’s Ghost.

He stands at the back of the group behind you and Soap, no evident trouble for him when it comes to the mud. He’s sturdy and observant, keeping a close eye on the treeline and behind the group. He's a great soldier and you admire his skills… and him. Ever since you met him you’ve had your eyes trained.

I mean who wouldn’t.

From his expressive eyes which sometimes you feel look through you, to his broad shoulders where he holds the world on top of them, his strong arms that deal with enemies swifty, to…his… lower extremities that you certainly have only thought of once or twice. Maybe more.

You should be ashamed of your feelings, and you lock them down deep the only time they have slipped past your lips is when too much alcohol loosens them.

—

You confessed one night to soap, the rest were asleep and your insomnia was kicking your ass so you went to the parking lot where soap was nursing a bottle on the hood of his car, and you sat down and shared it.

“Something on your mind bonnie?” He hands the bottle to you, concern brewing in him.

“I don’t know, it’s just, Ghost.”

He laughs.

“Yea, I know about him, but what about him?”

You take a couple large gulps of the amber liquid, it burns its way down and soothes your aching wanting heart, burying the hopeless romantic in you. Tears brew in your eyes and you always forget you either become a laughing drunk or a sappy drunk, seems the latter had won tonight.

“Aye- lass, what's wrong.” His hand is placed on your shoulder offering a comforting touch.

You sob and laugh at the same time, looking up at Soap.

“I think I’m in love with him.” You say quietly through a stream of tears that make their way into your mouth, making a weird cocktail of salty liquor.

“Oh bonnie…” Soap rubs your back, his voice is soft.

“I just, everything about him Johnny! I can’t get him out of my head, and he probably doesn't even look at me that way, he could get any girl he wanted!” You sob.

“Woah there calm down, gonna throw yourself into a spell talking like this. Look. LT cares about ya, truly. He thinks you’re a valued member of the team and I’ve caught him starin’ a few times so don’t be daft now ya hear. You’re a pretty girl and LT would be lucky to have ya.”

You sniff, wiping the tears and snot with a sleeve.

“Really? You think so?”

“Cross my heart and hope ta die. You’ll be alright.”

—

“It’s in my shoes.” You deadpan.

You hear Gaz laugh and Price looks back, checking on the team.

“Don’t worry Y/N, just imagine it’s a mud bath! Your skin will be smooth and shiny before you know it!” Soap laughs at Gaz’s antics, it’s nice when you can all joke around and relax. The hard part is over and now it’s simple evac.

“Right… how soothing.” Your eyes roll and you look back to check on Ghost, your eyes meet and a flash of electric lightning shoots to your heart, it feels good.

He gives a quick nod and you return to your trudging. You wait till after the mission to pass any other signals, he’s too focused to register any flirting right now. Or that's the advice Soap gave you after that night.

“Right. Keep close by, chopper is land down in 5, need to evac quickly to avoid any unwanted looks.” Price alerts to the rest of the team once you’ve covered ground and are nearing sweet release. Your back and knees ache just at the thought of sitting. You nurse the last of your water and keep walking, you tip your bottle back along with your head to get the remaining drops and you trip over a protruding root.

Other foot trying to catch yourself a hand catches on your upper arm, righting you up.

“Alright there?” Ghost’s dark eyes are steady on you, maybe a bit amused, or maybe his eye paint is creasing.

“Yea, sorry just tryna finish off the bottle, didn't see that there.”

“Careful next time yea?” He releases your arm and waits for you to start walking again to pick up behind you.

“Yea, for sure LT.”

You feel his hand on your arm even after he released you and you want to untie the knot that Ghost has tied there and you know you’re royally fucked.

You’re all on the chopper and your legs just about give out, you always love the euphoric feeling of sitting down after a mission like this, the lactic acid in your muscles making them burn like no other. You sit across from Ghost and he visibly relaxes once the chopped takes off, the breeze from the open doors cooling everyone immensely.

“Good work everyone, I know evac was shit but you all hustled and we got the intel we needed. I think we all deserve a good ol drink when we get back right?”

Price brings a smile to everyone's face, as tired as the lot of us are. You glance over at Ghost and his eyes look away from you, looking over his gear.

Your heart pains for some kind of acknowledgment that he feels the same, it’s like trying to hold the same fistful of sand no matter how hard you try it seeps through your fingers, you want him so badly you’d tape your fist shut if that meant keeping the sand in.

—

Back to base, ‘same day different shit’ you heard Ghost say one time. You often hold on to everything he says, hoarding each little piece he feeds you and storing it away somewhere special. Like you’re hoarding food for the winter, as if the winter is him falling in love with a woman that isn't you, when that happens you’ll open your little box of his sayings and advice and eat them slowly, savor them until all that’s left to drink is the tears you drown yourself in as consolation.

A pity party is what you throw yourself that night, showering and getting a once over by the medic then making your way back to your room, Price wants to get everyone together tomorrow night for a drink, wouldn't hurt you think. You sit on the edge of your bed, the silence is deafening after a mission, tinnitus ringing your ears. The bed is cold, you want someone to warm it, you want Ghost to warm it.

The nightmares come to you quickly that night, visions of your team, your friends being ripped apart by bullets as you try to fire back into mist. You hold Ghost’s hand as he fades and you wake up coated in cold sweat and adrenaline.

3:18 a.m.

You toss and turn for a minute before huffing and leaving the bed, you need air. Adorned in sweatpants and a shirt you got on recruitment day you leave your room the sound of your door is loud and you wince as it closes. You go to the parking lot once more, maybe there will be more stars out tonight.

The air is crisp and cool, you round the corner of the building where a bench sits, a lone figure is sitting and smoking there, you can tell it’s him by his silhouette. He’s broad and his legs spread wide as he sits alone.

“This seat taken?” You ask, scared if you talk too loud he’ll leave.

“All yours” No inflection is evident in his tone.

Silence sits between you two and you take a harsh breath to break it. It makes you uncomfortable.

“Trouble sleeping?” His voice is deep and low.

“The usual, nightmares again. You?”

“Not tired, too soon after the mission to sleep.”

“I understand.”

You watch him carefully as he brings the cigarette to his lips and inhales, you inhale with him. You imagine him inhaling your perfume as his lips touch your neck. You stare, unabashedly, like you’re not scared if he catches you.

He adjusts where he sits, hips rolling to get more comfortable.

“Bloody bench feels like it’s made of spikes.” He mutters, quietly.

You breathe out a laugh as he exhales the smoke.

His eyes look to the side at you and then forward again.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you want something from me.”

“What if I do?”

Your heart is racing now, faster than it had on any given mission.

He stands, throwing the cigarette to the ground and crushing it with his boot, he slips his mask down again and his eyes are locked on you.

“I’d say you’d better fuckin’ find it elsewhere, we both know I can’t give you what you want.”

“What do I want Simon?”

His lips grow sealed when you say his name.

“Things I’m incapable of providing, best leave it at that. Night sergeant.”

His tone meant business, you know better than to chase after him. You sit on the bench, staring at the cigarette on the ground. It’s beaten and crushed like you feel right now.

You wonder if you can still taste his lips on it.

The walk of shame back to your room is humiliating, you pass some others that can’t sleep, nightmares aren't anything special around here and you wish you could pluck the worries from their heads.

Sleep is easy after that, maybe your body wants to make you forget the encounter with him but even so you dream of him. He’s an inescapable phantom.

—

“Aye there she is!!” Soap hollers from across the pub, it’s a quaint place, quiet enough to not be annoying but lively enough to not feel desolate.

A large corner booth is what they occupy and you wave as you make your way over, A few empty glasses scatter the table already you arrived ‘fashionably late’.

“Hey bonnie I gotta take a leak you can have my seat yea?” He nudges Ghost so he can be let out of the booth, Ghost stands towering over you. Soap shuffles over to the bathroom and Ghost lets you slide into the booth before he follows, trapped between the wall and him. You’d rather be under him…

You greet them all and Gaz slides you a tall glass of something mind numbing, Ghost has his mask down but he’s nearly finished with his glass same with the rest of them.

“You got some catching up to do, miss fashionably late.” Gaz shoots a smile and you clink your glasses together.

Soap meanders back and pulls a chair to sit at the end of the table, you all squabble over what a better drink is and down rounds after rounds. The conversation somehow gravitates to relationships at some point and Soap is going on and on about this woman he met at the pub down the street.

“Oh she’s a real sweetheart, thinking about asking her out later this week when I get the balls to do it.”

You smile at the way Soap talks about her, you’d love to be admired like that, treasured.

“I think you should go for it Johnny! You're a nice guy, I can go in there and talk you up if you want, say you fought off ten men to save my life.”

He laughs, nearly tipping off his chair,

“You’re a real wingman Y/N, if you can secure a date by all means.”

You smile and the air is joyous, little is heard from Ghost but you know he likes seeing the team happy, he sips his drink and observes, smiles hidden by his mask.

“Have you had any luck on the dating scene Y/N?”

Gaz questions, eyebrows rising.

“Yea bonnie, never hear a peep out of you when we talk about lovey dovey shit.”

You shrug, taking strong sips of your drink.

“I went on a date a while back, he got me flowers, a real nice guy. Found out he was sleeping with my friend behind my back around the fourth date. Don’t really want to try anymore, end of story.”

You can feel Ghost’s eyes burning into you as you finish the sentence. His gaze is addicting and you feel sweaty locked in his stare.

“Well he’s a proper twat for messing it up with you then yea?”

Price offers a tip of his head, sympathy in his eyes.

“Ah it’s alright, I’ll just wait for my prince charming to come sweep me off my feet.” You bat your lashes dramatically and fake a swoon, soothing the old memory with jokes. It turns the tide of the table ambiance to a lighter one.

“I need to piss.” Ghost says quickly, you scoot out of the seat and Ghost hurries off to where Johnny has gone to earlier.

“What’s up his arse?” Gaz says confused.

Price downs the last of his drink and slams it back onto the table.

“What do you all say to a game of pool?”

“I’ll watch, cheer ya’ll on.” You still nurse your drink and you start to buzz, worries slipping away like papers, but one it left, weighted down with a large paperweight.

“I’ll be right there, gonna finish this drink off.” Soap says, sloshing the leftover liquid that's in his glass.

“Very well, see you momentarily.”

Soap watched the two walk off, leaving the two of you left alone.

He turns back quickly, you get secondhand whiplash.

“Ghost has had his eyes on you the whole night please tell me you told him and he confesses his secret love for you!” Soaps eyes are huge and he’s pleading for the right answer.

“Not exactly.” He delfates.

“What the fuck do you mean ‘not exactly’?”

“I told him that I kinda wanted him and he said he wouldn't be able to give me what I want.”

“That's bollocks and you know it! He’s always watching you, never seen him doing that for any other lass. Now is the time, he’s all alone. Go on and chat him up, I’ll tell the boys you’ve gone home sick alright.”

Soap winks and leaves before you can utter another word. You even your breathing and gulp down the rest of the liquid courage before strolling over to the bathroom hallway. It does not take guys that long to pee weird he's not around.

You walk outside, feeling deja vu from last night the breeze hits the same way.

“You should go inside, it’s cold out.” Ghost is standing leaned up against the brick wall next to the door.

“I was looking for you actually.”

He stands up straighter, shoulders held further.

“Lads looking? Not really in the mood to lose another game. Last time was enough.”

You laugh, the alcohol making it easier to relax around him. You're tipsy enough to have fake confidence for the time being but sober enough to make deductions wisely.

“No Simon, I’m looking. For you.”

“And I told you to stop, you don’t know what you’re thinking. You’re a nice girl yea? Find a nice young guy that can take you on dates and buy you flowers-

“I don’t want anyone else Simon. I want you because I’m in love with you!”

It seems like the whole world went silent after you said that. You’re steaming and don’t move your eyes away from him.

“Y/N.”

“I’m tired of pretending. I just had to tell you I couldn't hold it in any longer it was making me sick. I don’t care about fancy stuff, you should know that by now. I just want to be next to you.”

He approaches you, your neck craning to maintain contact.

“Y/N, I’m proper fucked up you know that? You’re too kind, too perfect to be ruined by a man like me.”

You sniff, the cold getting to you.

“I think you’re wonderful Simon really. You look out for everyone and make sure everyone is alright before looking after yourself. Let me please show you you’re worth loving in return.”

Your heart spills to him, spewing it’s contents violently.

“I’m not joking, I'm not ‘prince charming’ like you referenced earlier.”

“Even better.” You smile.

“Fuck it.”

Before you know it, he lifted the small portion of his mask to kiss you and you erupt, wrapping your arms securely around his neck as though you’ll fall if you don’t. His hands hover over your waist and you grab them and push them down onto your body and he pulls you close. He kisses you like it’s the last time, he makes up for all the times he should have, all the time he desperately wanted to.

He’s watched from afar for so long, your laugh creates sparks in his heart, seeing you make it back from another mission safely spurs him on. He would lay down his life for you and you don’t even know it.

He pulled back, mouth in the crook of your neck.

“Your place is nearby right?” You ask, rubbing his neck and down his back.

“Yea, yea it is.”

He leads you back, back to his den where he’ll draw you in with those eyes and that voice, calloused hands exposed from his gloves that will trace over your skin. The walk is in silence but you both are buzzing, the team won’t miss you, probably happy this chasing game is over with so peace can be established once more. He takes your hand as he leads you up the steps to his apartment, you grope his arm and he shoots you a sultry side-eye.

“Have I ever told you I love your arms?”

“You did just now love.”

Love, love, love. You want him to keep saying it.

He leads you in you’re caged in by his arms on the inside of the door. He looks you over head to toe.

“You look fuckin lovely tonight you know that? All I’ve been thinking about is tearing this top off of you and stripping you down.”

You shiver and bring your hands to run carefully from his abdomen up to his chest.

“You think of ripping my clothes off frequently?”

“Very.”

Stunned by his words and your head swimming he places his hands on your waist and lowers his head to your ear.

“Now if you’d allow me, I’d like to fuck you now.”

Hypnotized you speak.

“Yes please.”

His home is lowly lit and sparsely decorated, you assume he’s not here often or for long.

The bedroom is simple, a bed, two side tables, two lamps, and a dresser. An adjacent bathroom you can’t see.

“You have a nice place.”

“Well now I know you’re lying.”

You stand at the edge of the bed and he stands before you and his hands are on you again pushing you onto the bed you are surrounded by the smell of him, the deep umber and woodsy scent.

“You know how many times I’ve pictured you in my bed?”

He’s inching your pants down your hips agonizingly slow as he speaks.

“How many times I fucked myself picturing you instead?”

“Ghost.”

“Nah none of that here, you’re gonna say my real name from now on and you’re gonna scream it alright?”

“Fuck Simon.”

“Yea. Just. Like. That.” Your pants are off and his hands move from your ankles up to your knees and caress to your inner thighs. His fingers skate your pantyline and your eyes are locked on his hand and he doesn't stop. His hands move over your hips and grip your waist before moving right below your breasts, he checks you with his eyes and you plead silently.

He cups you fully with both hands and you roll your head savoring his feelings.

“So fucking good love fuck.”

He strips you of your shirt and bra and you’re left exposed on his bed. He stands back to stare down upon you and you feel like a spread of food sitting on a stark white table ready to be consumed and ogled. He strips himself of his leather jacket leaving his quite form fitting black tee on.

You adjust under his gaze, his mask hides any expression but his eyes say so much. Raking over your body heavily and his chest rising and falling fast as though he had run a marathon.

“Simon.”

“Yea?”

“Do something.”

“Like what?” His voice is lighter now.

“Anything Simon!”

He laughs and places a knee in between your legs, spreading them wide to accommodate his other leg and hips.

“There we go, fuck all spread out underneath me.”

His hand is placed on your breast and rolls your nipples in his fingers, it moves down never leaving your skin until he reaches your core it’s hot and wet and he collects it on his fingers and when he finally touches you it’s like you’ve reached Valhalla.

He slips a finger inside and it faces no resistance, you form around him and he slips in another starting a smooth rhythm.

“So tight, you think you’ll be able to take me huh love?”

He’s pumping in you and you can hear how wet he’s made you, his eyes darting from his fingers to your face, thrown into pleasure.

He brings you to your peak so quickly you’re stunned and you grip his arm as you clench around him, his name being pulled from you like a mantra.

You regain your mind and look at him as he slips from you and his fingers make their way under his mask, his eyes on your as he licks them clean tasting you on him.

“Sweetest fucking thing I ever tasted.”

He’s unbuckling his belt next, unzips his pants and pulls himself free. He's thick as all hell and a thick vein runs down the underside. It looks heavy and you pocket an idea for next time.

You're staring for a long time and his two fingers that just did unspeakable things to you tip your chin to look at him.

“Think you can handle it?”

“I can take it, just hurry up.”

“You’re always so impatient you know that.”

He places the tip at your entrance collecting your wetness to help with the initial push.

The stretch is delicious and you grip his arm and shoulder gasping at the feeling of being full of him.

“Fuck. Fuck you’re so fucking tight, squeezing me so fucking good.”

His one arm is braced at the side of your head, forearm spattered with tattoos burning your peripheral vision. The other holds himself, leading himself into you.

He’s seated fully inside and you feel split down the middle in the best way. Burning fire deep within you and you moan for him to move, creating the friction you need.

He starts moving and you both moan, he tips his head forward to watch where he enters you repeatedly.

“So good, fuck so big Simon.”

“You take it so well, love.”

His hand that once gripped himself holds your hip and moves himself like the ocean, fluid and rhythmic.

“Always dreamt about fucking you, you spread out of my bed while I fuck my cock deep into you.”

You throw your head back and he leans back, the warm air that was between you two leaving for the cold air of the room bringing your nipples to hard peaks which his eyes gravitate to.

“Alright c’mon love.”

He takes your ankles and your legs are on his shoulders. He thrusts that much deeper and hits the right spot to make you see spots.

“You like that, fuck I can see how deep I’m going in you.”

His hand finds your and puts it on your lower stomach and pushes down so you can feel the way he thrusts within you and how deep he reaches, you clench around him.

“Yea you like that.” He's cocky like this, dominant and all controlling. You’re putty in his hand.

“Simon I’m close don't stop please, fuck please.”

He lifts his mask up over his lips and kisses your ankle, biting your calf when he growls and that's all you need to be pushed over the edge.

“Fuck, yea cum on my cock good fucking girl.”

He fucks you through it and leans down to be face to face again. Your legs draped over his shoulders and he hits the right spot with each thrust now, he’s battering you into the mattress and his growling with each thrust muttering about how good you feel and how nicely you wrap about him.

You claw at his chest through his shirt sobbing and babbling and moaning.

“Can’t even form a proper sentence, so drunk on my cock yea? You gonna be a good girl and cum again for me?”

The graphic noises from where the two of you are joining echos through the room and you hope his neighbors aren't home.

“Yes, yes Simon please please please.”

The bed is an orchestra of noises and he shoots a hand up to the headboard, his knuckles gone white from gripping it so hard. Your abdomen is tight, so tight and your so fucking close you just want to cum at the same time as him.

“Fuck fuck fuck, so tight and wet where do you want me to cum, fucking tell me.”

“Inside me, inside me it’s safe.”

Not a beat after that leaves your mouth he’s seating himself so deep within you, you feel him throbbing deep within you and your vision goes blurry, ears gone fuzzy as you both are thrown into the abyss at the same time.

You hear a crack from above you but you pay no mind as your neck deep in pure white hot bliss.

“Fuckin hell love, really. Fuck.” He's panting, you’re panting.

You stroke his chest lovingly as he kisses your ankle as he slowly lowers your legs from his shoulders. He lowers his mask once more.

You glace up to where his hand still grips the headboard and a deep crack is ingrained in the wood.

You laugh.

“Jesus Simon, you fucked me so hard you broke your bed.”

He removes his hand observing the wood and shrugging.

“Well worth it I’d say, I’ll invest in a sturdier one.”

“Are you saying you’ll invite me to your place more often?”

“Your place works too.”

You both banter as you both clean up, you shower and he washes the sheets and hangs around the kitchen, letting you some time to refresh.

You come out of the bathroom smelling like him, drowned in one of his shirts and he's leaned up against his kitchen island gazing blindly at the random rugby channel he turned on.

He slides you a beer and you take it gratefully, bumping your glasses together.

“I mean it Y/N, I’m not the kind of man you might be thinking.”

“No Simon, you’re exactly the man I’m looking for, you’re stuck with me now.”

There's a beat of silence before Simon speaks up again.

“I should probably thank Johnny for tonight right?”

“Yea, he pretty much told me to quit my bitching and confront you.”

He sips his beer,

“Well, for once I can say thank fuck for Soap and his matchmaking skills.”

You laugh and stare at him in adoration, this is the start of something wonderful.

---

Tag list: @theredviolets

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heartfullofleeches · 5 months

Text

Adonis [Male Butterfly Yan] + Amab Bully Wasp Reader [18+]

(Warnings/Tags: Piss Drinking, mentions of alcohol consumption, Reader is a huge asshole. No gender mentioned, but Reader has a penis)

"Keep your chin up, freak-"

This was shaping up to be the best night of his life.

Adonis had never been big on parties. Didn't do well in large crowds nor did he have many friends he'd happily enjoy wasting his time with. That all changed when he fell under your radar. It was love at first sight, but as with every good thing in his life - others tried to take his happiness away. People warned him about you - spreading their lies in an attempt to squash his budding feelings. A monster. A danger to yourself and those around you. Nothing more than a big bully. He knew better. You were different, just like him.

"Heh-heh... S-sorry....."

Adonis welds himself to the hard floor beneath him - the coarse texture of your jeans rubbing against his check as you wrestle with your belt. Your free hand runs his hair, gripping his sensitive antennae where they sprout from his skull. The butterfly swallows his moans as quickly as they slip out as you tug at his scalp through your struggle. He didn't want to come off as too eager for this. He's worked too hard to reach this point just to scare you off. Tolerating your awful excuses for friends, agreeing to attend this awful party, mingling with those other awful people at the bar everytime he ran to grab you another drink. Adonis didn't mind those parts too much. He'd do anything to prove his worth to you. Maybe, you'd even like him more if he showed more enthusiasm, and willingness to let you use his throat for any means.

A boy could dream....

A soft grunt sounds from above as the buckle of your belt falls free.

"Fucking finally... Who said you could close your mouth?"

Adonis ignores you in motion of pulling your zipper with his teeth. Impatience was rare for the boy lusting after someone who normally wouldn't give him the time of day, but he's been waiting for this moment all night. He prays by batting those pretty lashes of his and giving proper worship will be enough to earn your forgiveness. You don't appear to care much either way, though the slight hitch of your breath as he traces the outline of your dick with his tongue through the fabric separating him from your bare skin doesn't go unnoticed. Adonis blushes. Saliva wets his dry lips as you fish your cock from the restrictive band of your trousers, tapping it against his lower lip as sign to open wide. Adonis obliges. The end of his prolonged tongue teases your balls as he parts his jaws as wide as possible. You ruffle his hair to which Adonis responds with a whimper.

"That's a good bitch.... Now, drink up~"

Adonis stiffles another hiccup of laughter as you take aim as his open mouth. You probably saw this as another way to humiliate him. Watching you slam beer after beer all evening, he could only dream of an outcome such as this. A quiet sigh of relief foretells your release. Warmth trickles onto his tongue as your grip on his hair tightens briefly. Once you're engaged he'll have to scold you for your drinking habits once, but for now he relishes the salty, slightly earthy taste of your piss. He savor it as it's the first he's ever had of you.

You inch the head of your cock further pass his lips, hissing as the little fucker wraps his mouth around the base of your girth. The tightness of his throat grips at you with every greedy swallow he takes of your filth, pumping your semi-hard erection to full mass. The trajectory of your stream remains on mark as Adonis works to keep your cock in his mouth and down his throat til you've completely drained. Hot tears flow from his eyes, mixing with the fluids that dribble down his chin and onto his sweater. Mascara he threw on just to gain your attention runs down his cheeks in dark streaks. The nice girls at the mall said it was the perfect touch to impress any date. His wings beat pathetically against his back as a deep breath of fresh air rids his tongue of your natural taste - strings of thick salica connecting him to you as you pull yourself from his reach.

"Whew! Been holding that in all night. Somebody must've died in the bathroom or some shit. I'll take care of this on my own - It'll be a pain if someone catches us out here with you like that. Thanks for the help, Adonis."

Adonis shutters at the usuage of his name. You never call him that, but the euphoria is fleeting. You pat him on the shoulder as you adjust your pants on your waist. It hardly gives him the dopamine boost actions did. He..wasn’t done yet... was he? No, he still hadn't proved his worth to you - not fully. From this angle, he could see just how painfully hard you were. Where you really just going to leave like that? Without giving him another taste of you after he's been so good? He wasn't ready to be alone again just yet.

"W-wait......"

Adonis grips at your thighs, olive eyes damp with fresh tears as he sniffles.

"You still haven't...I can... P-please let me finish. I'll do a good job - I swear! I'll do anything you want!"

The new tears spill from his eyes. Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you sigh heavily instead. "Alright, alright. If you remain absolutely quiet on our drive back to your place then maybe I'll fuck you. Would be better to piss on you in a shower anyway. Don't expect me to be around by morning."

"O-oh... thats ok! As long as I get one night with you...."

Adonis springs to his feet, hooking both arms around your right bicep with a huge grin on his face. He looked an absolute mess with his face covered in tears, spit and other fluids - yet he smiles the same as a blushing bride. He wasn't too worried about you leaving in the morning. One benefit to trouble sleeping is the medications one might use to solve their nightly troubles - or keep others right where they belong.

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere scenarios #yandere oc #male yandere #Adonis my oc #yandere hybrid #yandere smut #amab reader #sub yandere

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murdrdocs · 5 months

Note

drunk love confessions w coryo😵‍💫

both are drunk but aware ft public handjobs MDNI 18+

peacekeeper!coryo and the moonshine he bargained ma plinth's goods for. he's had too many swigs, forced to hold the bottle as smiley and beanpole went off to dance or something. and with nothing else to do, coriolanus found himself bringing the bottle to his lips purely out of habit. to pass the time, even. then you come along, waltzing up to him in a pretty dress (nothing even comparable to the ones in the capitol of course) and an even prettier smile. "hi, handsome." the smile coriolanus gives you feels lopsided, even if he can't see it himself. but you can, noticing how lazy it is instantly.

"hey, pretty."

if his appearance hadn't given it away, his voice did. the waver of it, the way it slurred, the end of his words dropping similarly to the way the people spoke here in twelve. despite the change being alcohol induced, you still find it adorable. you can't hide your smile, eyes catching sight of the clear bottle in his capable hands. you didn't even have to see the clear bottle in his hands to know, but seeing it confirms your suspicions even more. he attempts to bring it to his lips, but you intercept him, snatching it out of his hands. coriolanus pouts, but he doesn't reach for the bottle again. instead, he lets you have it.

"you 'ave to catch up anyway," he reasons.

you were taking it easier for the night, but as coriolanus starts to sober up, you go the opposite way, the couple of swigs you'd taken of the liquor working quick. eventually, you've both had enough of the bottle and passed it off to beanpole who passed it to sejanus who set it down out of sight of any of you.

the other members of the covey play a few slow songs, ones you sway with coriolanus to. your back to his chest, his arm thrown over your shoulder, your fingers playing with the new callouses along his palm. you feel his chest rumble with his humming, you sink more into his warmth, pushing your ass into his crotch. it's then that you notice the tent brewing.

you feel coriolanus sigh rather than hear it. it's much too loud in the hob to hear anything. and much too dark in this corner for anyone to see either of you. it gives you a thought, it sparks an idea.

one that comes to fruition with the button and zipper of coriolanus' bottoms undone, your hand snuck down the hem to stroke his cock. you would think the friction would make it uncomfortable for him, but coriolanus is immediately grateful. he nestles his head in the crook of your neck, damp skin against damp skin. his plush lips press against the salty sweat coating your shoulder as if the perspiration doesn't bother him one bit, but you know it's the opposite.

still, he takes it all beautifully, his hips slowly canting up into your fist until it gets to the point where he's fucking your hand. his movements slightly sloppy from the liquor sloshing through his bloodstream. it releases his inhibitions, lowers his self awareness. makes it easier for him to confess.

"i ... i love you." he tells you with his cheek pressed to yours. as soon as the words leave his lips, he presses a kiss to your cheek. it's one that feels like a plea almost. so with pity, you turn your head, press your lips to his, and swirl your hand around his tip.

when coriolanus cums in your hand, you whisper the confession back to him.

#celeste’s chats #celeste + thechlochella #coryosworld!#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow smut #celeste writes thg

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eelnoise · 7 months

Text

gilded

zoro x afab!reader nsfw!! cw: aggressive sex, drunken sex, piv sex, sex sex sex, zoro is a bit of a smug smartass an: @kaizokuniichan this is your fault btw

One drink turns into two.

The briny, salty scent of the open sea has become something you associate with home. Surrounded by your crew as they chat amongst one another, collected and dotted around the deck as the sunset bathes the world in an amber glow, there's nowhere else in the world you'd even dream of being.

Two drinks turn into three.

The sounds of the world around you begin to fade into one another. Whatever conversation you had been a part of had now fallen to the wayside, now simply half-listening to whoever is closest. The ice cubes in your beverage clamor as you take a sip, the sweat from the glass running down onto your hand in the warm evening weather.

Three drinks turn into four.

You’re taking a stroll around the ship, wanting to stretch your legs in a bid to rid yourself of any remaining energy from the flow of the day. Unsure if it’s the rock of the ship or your inebriation that has each step weary, you take it slow - idly watching your fellow pirates without really paying attention to what they’re doing.

You only realize that you’re being moved when a large hand reaches up to grasp your wrist, and suddenly you land in Zoro’s lap, having absent-mindedly wandered his way during your laps around the Sunny. Sideways across his thighs, your legs stretched in whichever way they fell when the swordsman dragged you onto him. “What was that for?” you ask, unable to stifle a giggle at the way his arm snakes its way around you to grasp onto your thigh.

“Dunno,” he admits, a lazy grin dashing across his lips, “Just wanted ya here with me.” His other hand brings his drink to his mouth, taking a long and rather loud sip from the mug as he squeezes you closer.

Your gaze roams along Zoro. His cheeks are flushed from the alcohol that’s also hot on his tongue, the smell of insobriety stinging your nostrils. His shirt is open, as per usual, unbuttoned and leaving little of his broad chest covered, the warmth radiating from his bare skin encasing you in its hold. Just out of the corner of your eye, something glistens in the waning sunset.

A gold chain around his neck.

Despite his current disposition, Zoro is still very observant. He notices where your eyes have gone, and a smirk crosses his face before he leans back slightly, holding the gilded links in between two fingers. “This?” he asks, holding it up between you, “Ya like it?”

Like it? You’re absolutely enchanted by it. The way the necklace blends in beautifully with his tanned skin - it’s infatuating, to say the least. “Yeah,” you confirm, one of your hands reaching up to trace the outline of the accessory slowly, earning you a slight shiver from the bulky man in reward. “I do, actually.”

Twisting around on his lap, you move to straddle his legs. Zoro’s hands almost instinctively find purchase on your hips after placing his drink down onto the wooden deck, fingers pressing into your flesh in an undeniable hunger. “I like it a lot~” you hum coyly, voice low and words slurred as you slide your hand up to his neck, then to his right ear where you let your fingers clink his earrings together.

Zoro’s eyes darken at your words, a predatory gleam in them as he watches you straddle his lap. His hands tighten their grip on your hips, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. “Good,” he growls, his breath hot against your ear, “‘Cause I love when ya get all over me like this.”

His lips brush against yours in a rough kiss, his tongue pushing past your parted lips to explore your mouth hungrily. A hand moves to occupy your ass, squeezing it firmly through the fabric of your pants. Despite being drunk, he’s still incredibly strong, and you can feel every muscle in his hand as he grips you tightly.

Zoro's eyes flash with lust at your touch, but he doesn't pull away from the kiss. Instead, he deepens it further, his tongue dueling with yours as he tries to assert dominance over you. But despite his best efforts, there's something about the way you touch him that makes him weak – something that makes him want more than just control.

Four drinks turn into five, into six, into the blurred lines of the abyss.

It feels like the entire cabin is shaking violently alongside the dangerously loud creaking of the bed, the wooden posts threatening to crack into splinters as Zoro fucks you deep into the mattress.

His large hand presses into the underside of your right thigh, keeping it locked in place with ease tightly against your chest. Straddling your other leg with his own, he rails into you at a pace that doesn't even feel real.

His three earrings clash together with each harsh thrust, the gold chain around his neck bouncing against his chest as he bottoms out within you over and over.

You're mesmerized by not only the way he's making your toes curl but also by the sheer beauty that he seems to radiate like this. The golden jewelry he's adorned himself with sheens and shimmers in the light of the newfound moonlight coming through the window, stunning you each time the glimmer catches your fucked-out, hazy gaze.

Zoro's movements are rough and unrelenting, his body fully giving into his desires as he takes what he wants from you without hesitation or remorse. The bed creaks and shakes under your combined weight, the sound echoing throughout the cabin like a warning call to any who might try and interrupt.

His free hand explores your body, finding new places to leave marks and claim ownership. Each thrust drives deeper into your core, filling you with a sense of complete depravity that leaves you feeling vulnerable yet exhilarated.

Your eyes threaten to close, a long sequence of elated whines rumbling out from deep within your gut as Zoro hits that heavenly spot within you with fury. As soon as you start to loll your head against the pillow, a hand captures your face, squeezing your cheeks together and forcing your gaze back up to the man ravishing you.

"Eyes on me," he demands, a devilish smirk across his lips. "You wanted the chain to stay on, right princess? Then pay attention."

His voice is rough and vulgar, filled with a raw power that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. His eye(s) burn into yours, daring you to disobey him. The thought of not obeying him sends a thrill through you, but you know better than to test him right now. With a weak nod, you lock your eyes onto him once again, letting him see the fiery desire burning within you.

With renewed energy, Zoro picks up the pace, driving himself deeper and deeper into you with each harsh buck of his hips. The sensation is overwhelming, and you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to release. The chain around his neck moves in tandem with his pace, the golden links catching the dim light in a mesmerizing dance that only serves to heighten the intensity of the moment.

He's just out of your reach, and so desperately do you want to pull on that stupidly sexy necklace, to drag him downward into the needy kiss you so badly yearn for. That damn look, that smug expression he's clad himself in as he takes you to heaven - you lose it, finding the strength to quickly latch your hand around the accessory and tugging it to get what you want.

Zoro's face twists into one of sudden surprise, but only for a moment, as you grab hold of the chain, yanking it sharply towards yourself. The movement causes him to pause, his body frozen in mid-motion as he looks down at you with a mixture of shock and something more... diabolical.

His eyes narrow, and a dangerous glint appears in them. He knows what you want, and who is he to deny you?

With a low growl, he resumes his relentless rhythm, pushing himself as deep as he can go. Lips clash onto one another. Zoro's grip loosens on your leg and you let it fall around his waist, both of his hands now on your cheeks as his tongue slips past your lower lip.

Zoro's mouth claims yours in a fierce kiss, his tongue tangling with yours with muffled moans. The combination of the rough, passionate kiss and the pressure of his body against yours is almost too much to bear, sending waves of pleasure through your veins.

Despite the ferocity of the kiss, there's also tenderness there - a hint of vulnerability that shows through in the way his lips brush against yours softly before returning to their bruising assault. Your hands find their way to his broad shoulders, clinging to him as if afraid that if you let go, everything will come crashing down around you. The heat between you both builds to a fever pitch, and you feel yourself nearing the edge once again.

The chain tickles your chest, causing you to writhe in overstimulation and twitch away from the kiss, sloppy, wet strands of saliva binding you before snapping. "Z-Zoro~!" Your cry seems to fall on deaf ears, the swordsman's pace doesn't let up.

Zoro's eyes are locked onto yours, his focus solely on taking you to the brink of ecstasy. He ignores your cries, lost in the passion of the moment. His body moves with a primal urgency, each thrust driving him further into you until you can feel the very essence of him inside you. The chain around his neck rubs against your chest, adding another layer of sensation to an already overwhelming experience.

The combination of pain and pleasure is almost too much to bear, but you hold on tightly to Zoro, determined to ride out the storm with him by your side.

As you approach the edge, Zoro's movements slow slightly, allowing you to catch your breath before plunging back into the depths of passion once more.

When he sheaths himself back inside of you, hips meeting flush against each other once again, you wail. The move brings you ever closer to the edge, so close that you can peer over it into the valley of ecstasy below. "Gonna cum for me again?" Zoro taunts from above you. "Or have I ruined ya enough already?"

Zoro's voice is low and rough, laced with a hint of egomania as he teases you with the words. You're far past the point of ruination, and he knows. You can only moan in reply, unable to form any coherent thoughts or sentences. All you can do is lay there, panting and writhing beneath him as he slams into you with relentless precision.

He pushes you to the very brink, and you can feel yourself trembling, on the verge of falling over the precipice into a sea of blissful oblivion.

You cry out, managing a sputtered, raspy sound that sounds close enough to his name to make him growl in pleasure as you reach that high for the umpteenth time that night.

Zoro's face contorts into a mix of pleasure and exhaustion as he feels you climax yet again. He holds himself deep within you, letting the wave of sensations wash over him before pulling back slowly, savoring every last bit of the experience.

As he withdraws from you, he looks down at you with satisfaction and slight weariness. Despite the fact that he's nearly spent, there's still a fire burning in his eyes - a hint of determination that tells you that he won't be happy until he's taken you to the absolute limit.

Despite your overstimulation, he leaves you empty and wanting. Before you can oppose him, he rolls you onto your stomach, a breathless gasp leaving you at the sudden change of position. For a while, nothing happens. You hear him fiddle around with something behind you, and soon enough you feel him moving your hair out of the way to clasp something around your neck - the chain.

And in a nanosecond he's pushing back into you, resuming his pace as if there hadn't been a brief pause. One hand uses the gold links to aggressively pull you upward toward him, allowing him access to your shoulders where he doesn't hesitate to bite down.

Zoro's movements are relentless. The chain that now sits around your neck adds an extra level of intensity to the experience, pulling you upwards with each thrust and creating a delicious tugging sensation across your skin.

He bites down on your shoulder, marking you as his own once again, and the combination of pain and pleasure has you panting and clawing at the sheets like a fucking animal below him. The feeling of being claimed like this is incredibly arousing and primal, and it only serves to push you closer to the edge once again.

Frantic howls of pleasure are all you can muster as you see stars again. Drool runs down the side of your chin and down your chest as he tugs on the chain as if they were reins. Zoro feels that familiar tension pooling in him, and he knows he's about to join you in the throes of final satisfaction. "Gonna fill that pussy up until ya leak all over this fuckin' bed."

#one piece x reader #roronoa zoro x y/n #one piece x y/n #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #zoro x reader smut #opla zoro x reader #one piece x reader smut #tbh this one is just okay but take it anyway LMFAO #zoro smut

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writing-funsies · 9 months

Text

OP characters as besties p.5

p.1 | p.2 | p.3 | p.4 | p.5

characters: Ace, Shanks, Mihawk

warnings: mentions of alcohol, light cussing

notes: all platonic hc's

Ace

will share his food with you

but won't let you take any off his plate

falls asleep on you all the time

uses you as his personal pillow

and will make fun of you if you freak out when riding with him on Striker

despite the fact that it's designed for only one person

but I digress

also uses you as a napkin if needed

sometimes shoots little flames at you to see your reaction

talks about Luffy nonstop

like that's the only thing he ever talks about

by the time you actually meet his little brother

you're ready to strangle both of them

not really

but you could spot the kid a mile away

before you ever actually got to know him

Ace and you working together to become more confident

always teasing each other

you having to fish him out of the ocean when he falls in

drinking contests

staring contests

fighting contests

eating contests

just competing over everything and anything possible

training together

he may be really strong and have a devil fruit power

but he won't hesitate to practice his hand-to-hand combat with you

especially if you need it

will tease you about it though

so you just push him overboard again

long talks about your lives

your pasts

your families

where you see yourselves in a year

five years

maybe even ten years

your goals

and aspirations

just talks about life

he tells you about his dad

and is relieved when you tell him that just because he was his father's son doesn't mean that'll be his legacy

you two would die for each other

nothing will ever tear you apart

besties for the resties

9/10

super sweet and funny

but won't bathe no matter how much you beg

Shanks

party boy™

genuinely doesn't give a fuck

he's here to have fun

and protect his family

that's it

tells you the corniest jokes you've ever heard

also laughs at everything you say

like Luffy, laughs even when you're being serious

uses his missing arm as an excuse if you ever try to get him to do his duties as captain

sometimes struggles with phantom pains

but assures you they'll go away on their own

drinking contests

if he's got a drink in hand

then everyone's gonna have a good time

100% threw up on your shoes once before passing out

laughed like it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard when you told him

quickly stifles his laughter when he sees how mad you are

offers to let you throw up on his shoes to make it even

you just stare at his sandals for a moment before walking away

watching Luffy's progress through the news together

bragging about the kid as if he were your own

the antics you two get up to guarantee that Ben will have a constant headache

the rest of the crew finds your dynamic duo to be hilarious

the sheer power of this crew is near unimaginable

so if the two of you ever actually fight enemies

they don't stand a chance

if anyone ever targeted you

and hurt you

Shanks would have his crew capture your attacker

and then show them exactly why no one messes with the Red Hair Pirates

8/10

always provides a good time

but will laugh at you if you fall

Mihawk

I ain't ever seen two pretty best friends

until now

you are probably a little more lively than this warlord

he just doesn't care for drama

which means it's up to you to keep him in the loop

yet somehow he has the truly juicy details you could only wish to find on your own

y'all have a small book club

it's just the two of you

you tried to invite Perona to join

but she thought that your reading selection was so not cute

you even tried to invite Shanks once

all that accomplished was you gaining a new drinking buddy

which Mihawk begrudgingly allowed to happen

basically, the book club is just you two sipping on wine while discussing every mistake that the author made while writing your current read

salty bitches™

you're one of the only people alive who can get Mihawk to laugh

which is your favorite party trick

except that he's never laughed at the parties you both went to

(ie visiting Shanks and getting roped into a night of drinking)

he airs out all of the other warlords' dirty laundry to you

will talk mad shit about them

well at least most of them

he finds that no matter how powerful they may be

they're all idiots in his eyes

they can't see the big picture

he trusts that you have enough common sense to use the information sparingly

and you do

for the most part

it's giving rich single wine aunt meets vodka mom (but without the kids)

9/10

knows how to relax in style

but will not let you play with his sword no matter how many times you ask

#one piece headcanons #one piece #one piece x y/n #one piece imagines #one piece x reader #whitebeard pirates #ace x reader #ace x y/n #portgas d ace #fire fist ace #shanks x reader #red haired shanks #shanks #hawkeye mihawk #dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk x reader #one piece mihawk #mihawk x reader

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teatreeoilll · 4 months

Text

|| Crush (Gojo Satoru X Reader) ||

(Reposted from my old blog which I don't have access to anymore (thanks Tumblr), if you liked it reblogs or likes would be appreciated to get me back on track since I've lost all my followers and half my work :(

Short one shot, in which Gojo finds out reader has a crush on him. TW: mentions of Alcohol and smoking

"I mean, if you had to choose one of them?" Your hands slipped further on the table, your palm grazing the wood while you fixed your gaze on Shoko's uninterested eyes.

"No," She said calmly.

"But if you really, really had to?" Her eyes darted across the room, her mind in dire need of a change in conversation topic.

"If I really - really, had to," She sighs, "I guess I'd pick Satoru."

Your heart dropped at the mention of his name. I knew it!

"But really," She continued, "I think he makes a horrible team with anyone, it doesn't matter how strong you are if you can't do that, y'know? But those six-eyes are no joke, so if I had to, I guess -" Your confused expression stopped her from talking further.

"Shoko, I meant if you had to pick one to - uh, you know, "

All the confidence you mustered to bring up the topic in the first place had vanished, you slid back into the chair, watching Shoko's face shrink with disgust. "No."

The drink before you emptied quickly as silence took over the room, each time you wanted to say something you felt your throat tense as the drunk haze had begun to clear. Perhaps it really was a bad idea to talk about this.

"I have a feeling this isn't really about me, is it?" She reached to open another canned sake. "I would like to say that you can tell me anything, but I have a feeling I wouldn't want to hear this," She took a long sip, "But I'll play along. Who'd you choose?" She was far too familiar with your mannerisms, knowing you would never admit to it any other way.

For a few months now, she had been brushing off her suspicions as misinterpretations.

"I - I would, hm, maybe, Satoru?" Regret settled deeper in your throat, but you knew it was too late to make up some excuse to leave this conversation. "It's not like I'd do anything about it, you know?" Shoko's eyes widened as you spoke, she tried to utter a few protest words, her hands are signaling you to stop talking.

You felt your face turn red, "I mean, It's just a crush, nothing to be too flustered about, right? What do those last, like a few months at most? Just don't look at those beautiful blue eyes, and that snowy white hair… It'll go away on its own!" Aware that it's too late, Shoko had buried her face in her palms. That's it, the thought passed through your brain, She will never respect me again.

Shoko cleared her throat, "It is, very understandable! That you have a crush on this guy, who doesn't even attend Jujutsu High!" Ah, it could have been such a good save.

"Oh yes!" Gojo laughed, kneeling next to your chair with his hand placed firmly on your shoulder, "Such a shame, but it's not like you have to see his beautiful blue eyes and snowy white hair every day," He failed to hold back his laugh, "I'm sure it'll go away on its own."

You focused your eyes on the table - Twelve cans of sake, only seven open. Gojo's hand on your shoulder. Oh god. Ashtray, still smoking. Salty chip packets - 2,3 … no 4, one has fallen off the table. Gojo's hand makes its way to your lower back. How's Kyoto this time of year?

"It's getting late, Shoko, thank you for the - actually, let's never drink again. I'll see you tomorrow."

You walked the dark corridor, unable to focus on anything other keeping yourself balanced after so many drinks, keeping the thoughts on solving your predicament for a more sober time.

A hand brushed your wrist before gripping it tightly and pulling you in its direction. Even in the dark, you could see the blue of his eyes.

"Listen, I really meant what I said." You uttered, watching his smirk widen. "No smart comebacks now!" You felt your chest heat up, the shame had turned to anger. People have feelings, why does it have to be a joke? His hand loosened its grip on yours.

"We're not children anymore Satoru, It's a crush. It'll be gone just as fast as it came. You don't have to joke about it, just forget it."

Never in his life had he let you finish so many sentences without a snarky remark. You tried to read his face, but the shadows covered his expression.

"Say it again." You felt his body come closer to yours, his lips almost touching yours, you didn't notice yourself stumbling backward until the wood boards on the nearest wall had pressed to your back.

"Say what again?"

"Say you have a crush on me," His voice lower than usual.

Fine, if it's going to be a joke, I guess it's better to go with it. "I have a crush on you, Satoru Gojo." As you tried to rid yourself of your compromising position his hand grabbed the back of your neck, entangling itself in your hair. Tension forms at the pit of your stomach.

"I have the biggest crush on you, Sa-" you mustered the huskiest voice you could find, but he wouldn't let you finish, his tongue already trying to find its place in your mouth.

He freed his hand from your hair just to grab your legs, lifting them up to wrap around him, his fingers digging deep into your thighs. He pauses to catch a breath, his face resting in the crook of your neck, just to huff a few words;

"Well, aren't I lucky?"

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo X reader #gojo X you #gojo X y/n #gojo satoru #jjk x you #jjk gojo #gojo satoru X reader #satoru x reader

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proxima-writes · 9 months

Text

𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀, 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓?

PAIRING: Ex-Boyfriend!Dieter Bravo x Female Reader

RATING: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

WORD COUNT: 3k

SUMMARY:

Your ex-boyfriend, Dieter Bravo, is in town and sends you a text. Meeting up with an ex, especially one you’re still in love with, is a bad idea, right? Based on the song “bad idea, right?” by Olivia Rodrigo

DEAR READER:

My first Dieter Bravo fic! If you enjoy, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging 💕 You can also support my writing through my kofi Dividers and banners by @saradika

CONTENT WARNINGS:

explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), no use of y/n, no referenced age difference, dubcon - alcohol consumption prior to sexual activity, domme/sub dynamics, sub!dieter, teasing, masturbation (f), oral (f receiving), praise, pet names, begging, unprotected p in v, love confessions, dieter being bad with feelings and words. please let me know if any are missing!

Dieter sits on the couch in the penthouse hotel room he's currently renting in New York, phone in one hand and a fresh Salty Dog in the other. The TV flickers with a porn he rented after not finding anything worth watching on the limited number of free channels and to be honest, he likes the background noise of moans and skin slapping against skin to fill the silent void.

He scrolls through Twitter as he sips his drink. There's one tweet that catches his eye, a familiar name in the hashtag that gives him pause. A glutton for punishment, he clicks the hashtag, his screen flooded with cell phone quality pictures of you, enjoying a night out.

In New York.

It's a blurry photo of you on a rooftop in a sexy outfit that looks like it was made just for you, a shimmery black fabric hugging all your curves just right. You're surrounded by people he doesn't recognize and your head is thrown back in an easy laugh.

Dieter frowns. He used to make you laugh like that.

Dieter scrolls some more, a glutton for punishment, and comes across another picture, a different angle, but this time there's a man leaning into your space, mouth close to your ear and an arm settled at the base of your spine. He takes a hearty sip of his drink, wincing at the bitter taste as he sets the glass on the coffee table.

He closes Twitter and opens his messages, scrolling until he finds your name.

wyd?

Your phone buzzes in your hand and the name that flashes across the screen has your breath catching.

Dieter: wyd?

You roll your eyes at the message. Of course.

You set your phone down on the table and look up, catching the judgmental stare of your best friend, Melanie.

"What?" You ask. She raises her eyebrows at you.

"That was very much the Dieter Bravo eye roll," she says, tone accusatory. "Did he just text you?"

"No."

Your phone buzzes a second time and her eyes drop to the screen, her hand reaching across the table to snatch it before you even have time to blink.

"'I'm in New York'?" She reads. "Oh my god, he did not send you a 'wyd' text!"

You're in a nice restaurant with a six month long waitlist for a reservation so you're desperately trying to keep yourself from launching across the table at her to get your phone back but the urge is certainly strong. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you hold your hand out to her. "Give me my phone."

"Are you going to text him back?"

"No." Yes.

The look she gives you momentarily leaves you wondering if she can actually read minds. You straighten yourself in your seat, tilting your chin defiantly as you say, "I am a grown adult who can make her own decisions."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean you always make good ones," Melanie replies, handing you your phone.

"It's a bad idea, right?" You ask. "Like...an extremely bad one?"

"Catastrophic even," she agrees. “He’s your ex for a reason!”

“Okay, but can’t two people reconnect? Isn’t the goal to be like…friends or something?”

You stare at each other for a moment. Her smile falters. "Oh my god, you're going to answer."

"I'm going to answer." Your fingers fly across the screen and hit send before you allow your logic to return.

Address?

The car you ordered pulls up to a boutique hotel, the kind that has a symbol for its sign instead of a name, and the driver comes around the front of the car and opens the door for you, holding a hand out to help you from your seat. You thank him and take a deep breath before entering the glittering lobby.

There's a separate elevator for the penthouse suite and the attendant on duty asks for your name, checking an iPad in his hands before pressing the button with a gloved fingertip. Once the car arrives and the shiny golden doors silently slide open, you step inside.

You stare at your reflection in the doors as the elevator rises, wondering why you're doing this. Your relationship with the actor lasted about eight months - long enough for you to fall in love and long enough for him to decide he was bored of you. After citing scheduling issues as his reason for breaking things off, you went back to hearing about him rather than from him and trying to fix the cracks in your life that he had left behind.

When the elevator stops and the doors slide open, Dieter is standing there with his familiar messy brown curls in disarray, a hotel robe open over his chest and tied loosely around his waist. He opens his arms wide as he grins.

"Hey, baby. Miss me?" He asks. You roll your eyes.

"Like a cavity, Bravo,” you reply, but your feet still guide you forward and you let yourself get enveloped in his embrace, the familiar smell of faded cologne and weed invading your senses. “Why did you text me?”

“Why did you come?” He asks.

“I asked you first.” You pull away, stepping around him and entering the living room of the large suite.

“You want a drink? I got you that wine you like,” Dieter says, pulling a bottle from an ice bucket set on a room service cart. He holds a glass up and you nod, watching as he fights with the corkscrew.

He finally gets the bottle popped, pouring each glass to the brim and stepping carefully across the room with one in each hand, settling beside you on the couch. He passes one to you and you take a quick sip to prevent disaster. Dieter opts to chug half of his serving in one go.

“So,” he says, drawing the word out, “You wanna have sex with me?”

You drain the rest of your glass, leaning forward to set it on the coffee table beside his. You kick your heels off, shifting in your seat until you’ve got your knees beneath you, pressed into the cushion. Planting a hand on his shoulder for stability, you swing one leg over him and settle on his lap.

“This is a bad idea, right?” You ask, face close enough to his that your lips nearly touch when you speak. His hands slide up your thighs.

“Probably,” he agrees, brown eyes half lidded as he stares at you.

“Fuck it, it’s fine,” you decide, pressing your lips to his. Your mouths move together hungrily, six months apart fueling a fire that’s ready to burn you alive.

“Fucking hell,” Dieter groans, hips bucking up and dragging his hardening cock against your center. “Want you so goddamn bad.”

“How bad?” You ask, already breathless as he trails his lips down your neck, his beard scratching the thin skin over your rapid pulse.

“Thought of you every time I fucked my hand.” A bite to your throat has you hissing from the combination of pleasure and pain. You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging his head back in retaliation. “Even bought one of those pocket pussy things. Didn’t even come close.”

That gives you pause. With six months gone between the breakup and now, you would have thought he’d been drowning in women and men clamoring at the chance to fuck him.

You kiss him again, your tongues sliding together in a messy, dirty dance you’ve missed more than you care to voice. Your hips move over his while his hands explore every exposed inch of you they can find.

“Take your clothes off,” he demands when his lips break from yours.

“Ask nicely,” you chastise. His brown eyes go wide, a pathetic puppy dog glimmer in them.

“Please,” he begs. “Pretty please, with a cherry on top?”

You stand, laughter spilling from your lips as you reach for zipper at your back, tugging it down slowly while he watches. He licks his lips like he’s being presented a six course meal and his hands curl into the material of the robe that’s fallen open, giving you an unobstructed view of a broad chest and soft tummy. You turn your back to him, easing the sleeves of the dress off your shoulders slowly.

“Come on, baby,” Dieter whines. “Quit teasing.”

“Good things come to boys who wait,” you tell him, shimmying the fabric over your hips, bending at the waist to ease the dress over the curve of your ass and down to the floor. This leaves you in only a thong, the red straps of it a gorgeous contrast to your skin that you know he’ll go crazy for.

“Fuck. Me.”

You turn back around to face him, the man’s eyes dropping immediately to your breasts. He raises his arms, making grabby hand motions toward your chest that have you giggling.

“What if,” you tap your finger to your chin in thought, “I just wanted you to watch me?”

Dieter pouts. “I could be a lot more help with my cock,” he argues.

“Hmm.” You take a seat on one of the cushy arm chairs in the sitting area, spreading your legs wide. “I’ve been doing just fine these last six months without it,” you tell him, sliding a hand beneath the elastic of your panties.

“This is fucking cruel and unusual punishment,” Dieter says. “A violation of the Geneva Convention.”

“Always so dramatic,” you reply as you circle your clit with your fingertips. He leans forward on the couch, hands gripping the cushion tightly as he watches. “You want a closer look, baby?”

He nods his head rapidly and you lift your hips to shove your panties down your legs, gathering them in your hand and tossing them at his face. The wad of fabric drops to his lap and he balls it up in his fist and brings it to his nose.

“Pervert,” you say affectionately. You hook your leg over the arm of the chair, spreading yourself wide for his gaze. You tease your clit with two fingers, trailing them lower to your entrance and dipping one inside, your head dropping back against the chair with your moan.

The sound of skin sliding over skin reaches your ears and when you look up, you find that Dieter has shoved his boxers down to where they now sit looked around his ankles, his thick cock caught in the tight grip of his fist. You lift your hand away, closing your legs and leaning forward with your eyes narrowed.

“Now, Dieter, I don’t remember saying you could touch yourself,” you say.

“Can’t touch you, can’t touch myself,” he whines, releasing his cock and gripping the couch cushion. “C’mon, baby. Please? I’ve missed yo—“

“Cut!” You yell. Dieter’s mouth snaps shut in surprise. “That wasn’t a very Oscar worthy performance, Di. I think you can do better than that.”

His blank stare morphs into heated understanding and you watch as he slowly slides from the couch and lands on his knees. He slips the robe from his shoulders, leaving him gloriously naked. You take a moment to appreciate the muscles of his chest and arms, his softer belly dusted with hair that draws your eye to his flushed cock and his strong thighs.

Then he starts to crawl.

Those big brown eyes of his look up at you with so much desperation and, dare you say it, adoration that your heart skips a beat as he moves closer. When he reaches your feet, he sits back on his heels and settles his hands on his thighs.

“Please, baby,” he murmurs. “Let me touch you. Let me show you how much I’ve missed you. You know me, my tongue is much better at giving you an orgasm than it is with words.”

“Fine,” you say, tone implying he’s inconveniencing you with his desire. He grins, his hands immediately grabbing at your thighs and tugging your ass to the edge of the seat. He positions your legs over each arm of the chair before diving in with his talented tongue, licking through your slick folds with practiced finesse.

“Fucking hell,” he groans, sucking your clit between his lips. “Your pussy is even better than that six course meal we had at that pretentious restaurant in Paris.”

“L’Arpege?” You gasp, fingers tangling in his hair. “You never told me you didn’t like it. I only picked it because of your two month experiment with veganism!”

“Wasn’t there for the fucking food,” he says. Two fingers press to your soaked entrance, sliding into your tight heat with little resistance.

Your head is spinning, stars bursting in your vision as his thick digits curl against your G-spot. His other hand presses on the top of your pelvis and the look in his eyes tells you exactly what his goal is.

“Dieter,” you say, his name a warning as you squirm beneath him. He grins up at you from between your legs.

“How’s my performance now?” He asks. “Oscar worthy yet?”

“Nominated at best,” you bite back through gritted teeth despite the pressure building in your core. He wraps his lips around your clit and sucks hard, tongue flicking rapidly against the bundle of nerves until that pressure bursts as you cry out, “Oh, fuck!”

The orgasm he pulls from you is overwhelming and leaves you gasping, vision blurry as you look down at Dieter’s smug expression and dripping chin. He runs a hand over his chin, collecting your release on his palm and using it to ease the friction of his hand as it pumps his cock roughly.

“‘Nominated at best’,” he says, voice pitched higher to mimic yours. “Please, that was the performance of a lifetime.”

“Don’t get cocky, Di,” you mumble, planting a foot on his chest and pushing him back. He topples over, landing on his back with an oof.

You drop from the chair and crawl over his body, making sure to drag your soaked pussy across his cock. Your hands are planted on the floor on either side of his head and you stare down at his blissed out face as you rock over him.

Dieter’s hands grip your hips tightly. “Don’t good performances get awarded?” He asks, voice tight.

You reach down between your bodies to hold his cock steady, allowing you to sink down slowly, his thick length damn near splitting you open. You’ve missed this, the way he fills every inch of your hungry cunt, the way he looks at you like you’re the best damn thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

Which is saying something because the man knows art and is constantly surrounded by beautiful people but you’ve only seen this look when you’re alone with him, at the end of a long day on set or when you finally stumbled home together from a night out. It’s the way his eyes go soft and his touch grows reverent, fingertips gliding over whatever skin he can reach with a featherlight touch, and the combination wipes the dust off memories with him you’d been trying to forget and move on from.

“Dieter,” you say, voice shaky. You rock your hips, lifting slightly to your knees and relishing the drag of his cock inside of you before you slam your hips back down. “God, fuck, feel so good.”

“Your pussy was made for my fucking cock,” he says through gritted teeth, his hands gripping your hips tightly and encouraging each rock of your body. “Missed this, missed you, fuck. Love you so much.”

You stop abruptly, the man beneath you whining. You grip him by the chin as you ask, “You what?”

“I…uh…shit,” he mumbles. “I didn’t mean to say it.”

“Oh.” You let go of his face, sitting up straight. “I see.”

“No, no,” he rushes to say. “That’s not what I meant.”

It occurs to you that you’re still impaled on his cock and this doesn’t exactly feel like a conversation to be had in that position. You make a move to get up but strong hands hold you steady in his lap.

“I just meant,” he say, fingers flexing nervously against your thighs. “I didn’t mean to say it right now. Like…I wanted you to maybe not hate me for a bit before I professed my love or whatever.”

“I don’t get it,” you admit. “I thought you just texted me to hookup because you were in town.”

“I’m in town for you.”

“For me?”

Dieter nods. “I’m not good with words that aren’t written for me. Too much going on up here,” he says, tapping his forehead. “But I haven’t stopped thinking about you since we broke it off and I feel like that’s a cosmic sign that we’re meant to be or whatever.”

“Oh my god, you really are bad with words,” you say with a laugh. “Meant to be, huh?”

“Or whatever,” he finishes. “Marriage is a scam.”

“Right, right,” you murmur, rocking your hips the slightest bit. “Total scam.”

“It’s just a way for the governme—oh, fuck,” he says, words trailing off into a moan as you pick up your pace again, your hands on his chest to steady yourself. “Just like that, baby.”

“You’re lucky I missed you, too,” you tell him, gasping when his hips flex to meet yours. Your communication with each other devolves into moans and the movement of your bodies until the desperation you feel for one another reaches its peak.

Dieter wraps both arms around your lower back as you cum, holding you to him as your cunt squeezes around his cock. It’s only a moment before you feel him pulsing, warmth pooling inside of you as your orgasm starts to fade. You collapse against his chest, breathing heavily and listening to the rapid beat of his heart beneath your ear.

He rubs his hands up and down your back as you both catch your breath, sweat cooling between you in the chill of the hotel room.

“You wanna order pizza?” He asks. You turn your face into his chest, muffling your laughter into his skin.

“Absolutely.”

#dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo x reader #dieter x reader #dieter bravo #dieter bravo fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo the bubble #the bubble fanfiction

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teatreeoill · 6 months

Text

|| Crush (Gojo Satoru X Reader) ||

Short one shot, in which Gojo finds out reader has a crush on him. TW: mentions of Alcohol and smoking

"I mean, if you had to choose one of them?" Your hands slipped further on the table, your palm grazing the wood while you fixed your gaze on Shoko's uninterested eyes. "No," She said calmly. "But if you really, really had to?" Her eyes darted across the room, her mind in dire need of a change in conversation topic. "If I really - really, had to," She sighs, "I guess I'd pick Satoru." Your heart dropped at the mention of his name. I knew it! "But really," She continued, "I think he makes a horrible team with anyone, it doesn't matter how strong you are if you can't do that, y'know? But those six-eyes are no joke, so if I had to, I guess -" Your confused expression stopped her from talking further. "Shoko, I meant if you had to pick one to - uh, you know, "

All the confidence you mustered to bring up the topic in the first place had vanished, you slid back into the chair, watching Shoko's face shrink with disgust. "No." The drink before you emptied quickly as silence took over the room, each time you wanted to say something you felt your throat tense as the drunk haze had begun to clear. Perhaps it really was a bad idea to talk about this. "I have a feeling this isn't really about me, is it?" She reached to open another canned sake. "I would like to say that you can tell me anything, but I have a feeling I wouldn't want to hear this," She took a long sip, "But I'll play along. Who'd you choose?" She was far too familiar with your mannerisms, knowing you would never admit to it any other way. For a few months now, she had been brushing off her suspicions as misinterpretations. "I - I would, hm, maybe, Satoru?" Regret settled deeper in your throat, but you knew it was too late to make up some excuse to leave this conversation. "It's not like I'd do anything about it, you know?" Shoko's eyes widened as you spoke, she tried to utter a few protest words, her hands are signaling you to stop talking. You felt your face turn red, "I mean, It's just a crush, nothing to be too flustered about, right? What do those last, like a few months at most? Just don't look at those beautiful blue eyes, and that snowy white hair… It'll go away on its own!" Aware that it's too late, Shoko had buried her face in her palms. That's it, the thought passed through your brain, She will never respect me again.

"It really is nothing to be flustered about. Quite understandable - really." A familiar voice came from behind, you could hear the grin in his tone. You desperately stared at Shoko, your eyes begging her to say anything - anything to rescue you from the embarrassment. Shoko cleared her throat, "It is, very understandable! That you have a crush on this guy, who doesn't even attend Jujutsu High!" Ah, it could have been such a good save. "Oh yes!" Gojo laughed, kneeling next to your chair with his hand placed firmly on your shoulder, "Such a shame, but it's not like you have to see his beautiful blue eyes and snowy white hair every day," He failed to hold back his laugh. "I'm sure it'll go away on its own." You focused your eyes on the table - Twelve cans of sake, only seven open. Gojo's hand on your shoulder. Oh god. Ashtray, still smoking. Salty chip packets - 2,3 … no 4, one has fallen off the table. Gojo's hand making its way to your lower back. How's Kyoto this time of year?

"There's nothing to be shy about." His whisper catches you off guard, his face so close to yours you were sure he could smell the alcohol coming off of each of your heavy breaths. You find the strength to stand up, your chair screeching on the floor. Gojo almost lost his balance. "It's getting late, Shoko, thank you for the - actually, let's never drink again. I'll see you tomorrow." You walked the dark corridor, unable to focus on anything other keeping yourself balanced after so many drinks, keeping the thoughts on solving your predicament for a more sober time. A hand brushed your wrist before gripping it tightly and pulling you to its direction. Even in the dark, you could see the blue of his eyes. "Listen, I really meant what I said." You uttered, watching his smirk widen. "No smart comebacks now!" You felt your chest heat up, the shame had turned to anger. People have feelings, why does it have to be a joke? His hand loosened its grip on yours. "We're not children anymore Satoru, It's a crush. It'll be gone just as fast as it came. You don't have to joke about it, just forget it." Never in his life had he let you finish so many sentences without a snarky remark. You tried to read his face, but the shadows covered his expression. "Say it again." You felt his body come closer to yours, his lips almost touching yours, you haven't noticed yourself stumbling backwards until the wood boards on the nearest wall had pressed to your back. "Say what again?" "Say you have a crush on me," His voice lower than usual. Fine, if it's going to be a joke, I guess it's better to go with it. "I have a crush on you, Satoru Gojo." As you tried to rid yourself of your compromising position his hand grabbed the back of your neck, entangling itself in your hair. Tension formed at the pit of your stomach. "I have the biggest crush on you, Sa-" you mustered the huskiest voice you could find, but he wouldn't let you finish, his tongue already trying to find its place in your mouth. He freed his hand from your hair just to grab your legs, lifting them up to wrap around him, his fingers digging deep into your thighs. He pauses to catch a breath, his face resting in the crook of your neck, just to huff a few words; "Well, aren't I lucky?"

#gojo x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n

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wildemaven · 11 months

Text

Sweet Creature: Chapter Three

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

WC: 3605

Summary: A washed up movie star with a failing career, fresh out of rehab and looking to turn his life around. He moves back to his small hometown to take a break from stardom and help his sister out with his niece- He's traded the high-life for school runs and crafting. What he doesn't except is to meet you, his niece's school teacher who couldn't care less about his extensive filmography or his dwindling fame.

Warnings: 18+ blog; swearing, mentioning of drugs, abandonment, arguing, food and alcohol, angst, feelings, mention of recovery/rehabilitating, absent parents, nail picking, Diem having to be a mother hen, one line from ‘The Bubble’— I think that’s it, as usual please let me know if I’ve forgotten anything.

A/N: This chapter totally became something I didn’t intend on, but in a good way. There’s a lot of feelings from everyone being thrown around and some hurt, but I think it was needed to be able to move forward— especially from that initial awareness in the kitchen. I’m excited to now get everyone in a somewhat good place with each other, so they can quit being knuckleheads. Thanks so much for all the love on the first two chapters, I am so excited to share more! Big thanks again to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for taking the time to beta for me— she’s been my wingwoman through this and I so appreciate her time and thoughts with each chapter!

Series Masterlist / Sweet Creature Playlist / Main Masterlist

Previous / Next

“Diem’s not home.”

“Oh fuck—”

This is literally one of those worst case scenario situations, and you’re not sure if you’ll ever come back from it.

You feel sick, the pit in your stomach heavy with regret. A destructive aftershock hits your chest, rolling tremors of guilt crashing through every inch of you.

“Dieter, I— I’m s-so sorry.” Your voice cracks as you force yourself to break the agonizing silence.

“Sorry you said it or sorry you got caught?”

You’re not even sure which one is a better option, either way it doesn’t resolve the hurt you’ve caused him.

His eyes lack that sparkle you saw earlier in the day, dimple no longer visible—his expression now reserved and opaque.

“I-I didn’t mean for you to hear any of that— I.”

“Oh, so you meant it then?”

“No, I-“

“Like when we first met, a year ago. What was it you said? Ah, I think it was something to the effect of ‘a fucking deadbeat, washed up douchebag’. The memory is a bit hazy, but those words stuck with me this whole time, just didn’t have a face to put with them until now.”

“Dieter, I’m so—“

“Yeah, sorry. You mentioned that.”

Tears well up in your eyes, stinging as they threaten to burn trails of remorse down your face. You blink them away, keeping them at bay for the now. Right now is not their time, it’s not your moment to center yourself in misery— this catastrophe of a situation is at the fault of your own actions.

The click of the front door grabs your attention— Diem’s home.

Both you and Dieter are still standing in the kitchen, eyes locked onto each other, neither making the first move as you wait for Diem’s arrival into this botched run in.

“Hey! Sorry I’m late, Wren’s appointment ran later than expected.” Diem’s arms full with take out boxes, completely oblivious to the gloom looming around in her kitchen. “Oh shit! I forgot we were getting together tonight.”

“Mama said a bad word!” Wren already settling herself on a barstool at the counter.

“Sorry, baby. I should have text you! Wren had a doctors appointment and her booster was in Dieter’s car from this morning— it was a hot fuc— hot mess! But I’m glad you are getting to know each other without me!”

So much is happening around you, your body frozen as you watch Diem arrange the white foam containers about on the kitchen island, a small hand grabbing at the mound of salty rosemary seasoned fries. Dieter settling back against the nearest counter watching as his sister moves about with ease, something he hasn’t been witness to in a while.

“I grabbed tacos from The Nest downtown. Since I screwed up our night, stay and eat with us.” She says to you as she’s putting plates and silverware out.

“It’s okay, I can go. I don’t want to intrude on your time together.” Your throat dry, pulse racing, you need to leave immediately.

“Oh stop! You’re not intruding on us, I insist— the more the merrier, right Dieter.”

His name slices through you like a jagged knife, each syllable a tiny knick, the slow drag of its blade adding to your own downfall.

“As long as she’s comfortable with it, the more the merrier.” His gaze bores intensely at you, his voice laced with bitterness.

“Yeah— okay.” Your own words betraying you.

“Perfect! I was hoping for all of us to have dinner together at some point anyways— no better time than now I guess. Everyone grab a plate and we can sit at the table. Wren, go wash your hands baby.”

“‘Kay, mama!”

“I also played on the swings— I showed my friends that trick Uncle Dude taught me!”

“What trick?!” Diem, unaware of any ‘swing tricks’, glances at Dieter with furrowed brows in a panic at the thought of Wren sharing something dangerous with her friends— he seems to be equally confused, shrugging as he waits for Wren to explain further.

“I swing as higher and higher as I can, then jump so I can fly!” Her little arms stretched out in a flying motion and she continues to munch away at her fries.

“Oh! Well, let’s save that for when we’re together and not at school where we can get hurt if we fly too high.”

“Okay mama!”

You’ve barely touched the tacos in front of you, let alone heard much of the conversations being shared around the table. Your brain is so busy running through a list of excuses to leave, you don’t hear your name being called.

“Hmm?” Refocusing back to the present moment.

“I asked how things have been at school? We didn’t get our usual catch-up chat at drop off this morning since Dieter took Wren.”

“Oh— good! Things are g-good!” You force a fake and hopefully believable smile, keeping your response minimal and to the point.

“Have you made any progress on your upcoming art exhibition at the gallery?”

“Umm, yeah— I mean kind of. Still trying to nail down a theme right now. Then paint everything before it’s time to prep for the install. Just haven’t found any inspiration just yet, typical artist procrastination.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll figure something out and get it all done in time.” Diem ever the optimist. “And, if you need any ideas, Dieter is well knowledgeable in the field, I already told you he’s an artist. I’m sure he can help you with any questions you might have. Right, Dieter?”

“Yeah— sure.” His response is flat, not even making an attempt to look up from his plate.

“Thanks.” I think.

“You okay? You’ve barely eaten.” Diem’s motherly concern not reserved to only Wren tonight.

“Yeah— sorry, I’m good. Just been a long day, some— umm, things kind of came out of nowhere. A lot on my mind, that’s all.”

“Hmmph.” Dieter lets out a brief huff of annoyance at your response as he settles back into his chair, pursed lips and arms crossed on his chest— he wants this to be over just as much as you do.

“What was that Dieter?”

“Mama, I’m full.” Wren’s sweet little voice breaks through the awkward tension that made itself comfortable at the table for the evening.

“Wren, you barely ate your tacos— how can you be full?”

“I’m full of French fries mama! May I be excused?”

“Sure. Go wash up and brush your teeth. Then you can play for a bit before bath time.”

Wren doesn’t even wait for the end of Diem’s directions before she’s launching her body out of her chair and heading for the bathroom. Maybe you could borrow a page from her book, you’d rather be full of fries instead of the uneasiness that has settled in your gut.

Diem lets out a heavy sigh, face resting in her hands as her elbows support her on the table. “I swear, sometimes I feel like she’s testing me.”

“She’s a kid, it’s her job to keep you on your toes and not eat anything you want her to.” Dieter reaches over and gives Diem’s arm a light squeeze.

“Yeah, he’s right.” Sneaking a glance towards Dieter as you agree with him, there’s a quick flick of his eyes over to you then back to Diem. “It’s developmentally on track for her to be picky or hate something she once enjoyed. It’s nothing you’re doing wrong at all. And if it makes you feel better, she ate all her lunch today— said she loves when you make those special circle cut sandwiches.”

You catch the momentary smile on her face, hoping your words were enough to give her some relief. While you don’t know the weight that comes with being a parent, it’s your job to know the ins and outs of kid’s behaviors and how they react to a multitude of situations.

“Thank you. I’m so grateful— for both of you. This summer is going to be busy, but knowing I have the two of you in my life it seems less stressful. Speaking of which, I’m doing a re-grand opening for the Capri soon, it’s really a glorified pool party— music, drinks, hot guys, and a sweet little girl who might need some looking after while I make sure it all goes smoothly.”

“Of course! I wouldn’t miss it.” You agree immediately, you love helping Diem whenever she needs it.

“Yeah. I already told you, any way I can help with Birdie, I’m there.”

Even with the prospect of being around Dieter regularly, you would rather see your friend happy and endure the already strained relationship you and Dieter have.

It seems like the awkwardness has dissipated and you’re hoping to ease into a peaceful parting for the evening.

“You both are the best! Gosh, to think it was roughly a year ago you were screaming at Dieter—“

So much for the peaceful part.

You see Dieter’s shoulders tense as Diem starts to recount the incident you’ve already re-lived earlier this evening.

“Diem, no—“ Your attempt to get her to stop talking goes unheeded.

“Calling him a washed up actor, or whatever it was you said—“

“Diem, please don’t—“ Your heart-rate quickening, if you didn’t already feel like shit from your foot-in-mouth event earlier, you definitely do now.

Dieter’s jaw ticking to the side, as Diem continues the retelling of the story.

“And then you tried to convince me to not have him stay with me— to think we wouldn’t be able to hang out like this if that were the case!”

There’s that proverbial bomb you were waiting to explode, a nuclear wave that was bound to destroy everything in its path.

“You what?! You told my sister to not allow me here?”

“Dieter, I just— I thought you were the type of guy who—“ The tears have made their way back, this time there’s nothing you can do to stop them from falling.

“What type is that? The annoying movie star whose ego has to be stroked on the regular so he can continue playing the role of ‘look how glamorous I am’? Or is it the washed up-deadbeat-douchebag type that you think so little of?”

“I’m sorry…” Your lungs are filled with the weight of his words, drowning in the thick air of your own words being thrown back at you.

“Listen— I'm sorry. I'm trying to care, but it's hard— Fuck! I need some goddamn air!”

“Dieter?!”

Dieter stands hastily, his chair scooting back with the force of his movements, not saying another word as he makes his way out the back door.

There’s a beat of silence, save for the occasional sound of Wren playing as she was told to do.

“Okay, what the fuck just happened?!” Diem looking back in the direction of where he had gone, then back to you.

“I fucked up Diem— I-I fucked up really bad.”

“What do you mean you fucked up? What did you do?”

Diem looking at you with desperation, eyes pleading to clue her in on the reason for Dieter’s agitation.

You let out a heavy sigh before you begin to recount the events that had unfolded between you and Dieter.

“I was heading over for our usual weekly get together, saw your car in the driveway and figured it was just you home— “ You can’t bear to look at Diem, your nervous tick of picking at your nails keeping your focus. “I let myself in, like I always do— started talking about Dieter and how I thought he was attractive and healthy looking— But then I just kept going and started talking about what I said when I found him in the bathroom at Wren’s party— I thought I was talking to you, until I realized it wasn’t you, it was Dieter.”

Your gaze slowly lifts to meet Diem’s, her expression solemn as she takes in everything you’ve shared.

“I’m so sorry, Diem. I know we chat and share things openly with each other, but I didn’t— I didn’t mean for him to ever hear that.”

She takes a deep breath. You don’t get the sense that she’s upset, she’s always been able to keep herself pretty calm even when she’s angry.

“Look, Dieter will get over it— It might take a minute, but I promise it will blow over in time. But you gotta stop with your constant need to prejudge and criticize people based on their past. Was your first impression of Dieter the greatest? No, it wasn’t ideal— but you can’t keep bashing him forever. He’s put in the work, you’ve got to give him a chance to at least prove it.”

She’s right. Hearing her call you out on your flaws stings more than you thought, but you know she’s right and you accept her unyielding words.

“You’re my best friend, and I’ve already told you how much I appreciate your loyalty— but he’s also my brother and I can’t just assume he’s going to fail without reason. I’m going to support him and love him through this next chapter of his life, until he shows me otherwise.”

You wipe the last few tears that have started to dry, nodding in agreement.

“I mean— I love you, but you gotta quit doing this shit. I know your past has hurt you in so many ways, but you got to stop it from letting you move forward with the life you’re living now.”

“Yeah, you’re right— I’ve got to make peace with things. I’m sorry, for how I acted and for the way things went tonight. I’ll make a better effort moving forward.”

“It’s okay. I mean it’s not, but it is. Come on.” She stands and motions for you to follow her, grabbing your things, you both make your way to the front door. “I think we need to let things settle a bit, give everyone time to cool off. Go home, take a bath, relax— don’t let it eat you up though. I’ll talk to Dieter, smooth things over with him.”

“Mama!! I need you!” Wren’s timing always seems to be right on point.

“That’s my cue— mom mode engaged! I love you! We’ll chat more soon.”

“I love you too.” She pulls you into a tight embrace, it feels like a warm blanket of love. You hug her back, hoping she can feel just how much you love her too.

“Mama!”

“Coming! Night!”

“Night Diem!”

He doesn’t even know how long he’s been sitting, letting the irritation of the evening quiet down, enjoying the chilly air on the back patio.

The moon starts to crest the evening sky and the stars slowly appear, blinking from their respective peaks.

The sound of the sliding door opening catches Dieter’s attention from where he’s sitting at the outdoor dining table.

“Hey, you okay?” Diem placing a glass of ice water for him on the table, then taking a seat next to him.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Although, a heads up that you and Wren’s teacher were besties would have been nice.”

“If I’d known you’d both be at each other's throats after your first meeting, I would have.”

He doesn’t really know what any warning would have done, but he wasn’t expecting to be front row to a vent session he wasn’t meant to hear.

“Her and I talked— I let her know that what she said was not the nicest way of expressing her opinion—“

“Ya think?!”

“Dieter let me finish. I told her she can’t let her past dictate her life or how she meets certain people.”

“Certain people? You mean people like me, you can say it— a former drug addicted, an actor. What kind of history is so bad that she’s put off by the idea of you letting your own brother live with you?”

“It’s not my place to share that with you. If and when she does decide to, that’s her choice.”

“But it was her place to talk freely about me with you? I’m assuming regularly too, being that you two have these little gossip nights every week.”

“That’s not fair, Dieter.”

“How so?”

“Look, I already told her that she was out of line with her comments. She needs to give you a chance and I’m going to ask you to do the same for her.”

He can feel his frustration bubbling up in his chest.

“Fuck that! If she’s allowed to voice her opinion about me not coming around, then I’m going to have to do the same— I don’t want her here while I’m staying with you.”

“Well, that’s not an option Dieter, so you can just forget that!”

“Why? Because her friendship is more important than your own brother?”

“First of all, I never said that. Secondly, she’s all I had for a long time— she was here when I needed someone to talk to late at night when I couldn’t sleep, helped me with Wren when I needed it. She stepped up when I didn’t even ask her to.”

He hears the tremble in Diem’s voice, her usual level headed tone shifting towards anger the more she talks.

“You could have just called and said you needed help, I would have been here.” The moment it leaves his mouth he knows how ridiculous it sounds, and knows whatever Diem is about to unleash on him is more than justified.

“Are you fucking serious right now?! Called you? When could I have called you for your help?? Hmm?? When you were across the country shooting your big time movies for months on end?? How about when you and what’s his face were off gallivanting across Europe for a year? I should have called you then, right? Oh! I know— I should have called you every time you were strung out from doing fuck knows how many lines of Coke or whatever drug of the week it was.”

He feels gutted, every bit of him fileted open as Diem pours salt into every crevice of his undeserving body.

This is all part of it though— the healing process. While there is bound to be plenty of excitement and joy around his recovery, there is an equal amount of uncertainty and ugliness that comes along with it. Raw, heavy emotions and animosity all have just as much of a place as the elated ones.

“I didn’t have mom and dad— and I didn’t have you either.” She uses the sleeve of her shirt to wipe her tears as she brings her feet up onto the edge of the chair, arms pulling her legs close to her chest as she rests her head on her knees.

“Diem, I’m sorry. I-I’m sorry I wasn’t available and I’m sorry for not being the brother you needed.”

Reaching over he grabs the arm of her chair pulling it closer to his own, the metal of the legs scraping against the ground.

He leans against Diem, head resting on hers

as he wraps an arm around her shoulders.

“I’m not asking you to be best friends, just to give her a chance, for me. Heck, you can even fake that you like her if you want to.” He laughs, but knows an actual effort is what Diem deserves. “I need you both more than you know. Can you promise that you’ll do that for me, Dieter?”

Her body shifts a bit, he leans back to allow her to bring her arm out from where it was tucked away.

It’s as if they were transported back to their childhood, her pinky awaiting his to fully seal the agreement.

“Promise.”

The rest of your evening went as Diem suggested— a warm bath with your favorite bath bomb and a small glass of wine to help relax even more.

You hated how much you were the cause of the evening’s chaos, replaying every word of it on your walk home, as you soaked and now as you situate yourself in bed.

The only remedy for your lackluster mood was a phone call away. Grabbing for your cellphone and scrolling through the recent call log until your thumb finds the contact you’re seeking.

It’s ringing, the silence between each ring feels like minutes, but by the fifth ring you can hear the click of the call being accepted.

“Hello?”

“Hi mom, it’s me.”

“Well hello there, this is a surprise!”

The way her voice is always soothing and warm, it feels as if she’s snuggled in bed next to you.

“Sorry it’s so late, I just— needed to hear your voice.”

“Okay, what’s bothering you?” Her motherly senses already firing off.

“How did you move on?”

“What do you mean?”

“With how dad was, is— how did you move on and feel okay to trust again?”

“Well, that’s a loaded question.”

Propping a few of your pillows behind you, nestling into them as you prepare to listen to what she has to say.

“Time was a big factor. You were my main focus too. But eventually I had to realize that I can’t automatically assume that every guy I meet is going to be like your father, unless they show me otherwise. Once I figured that out, the fear of being let down was no longer keeping me from moving on. I hope that answers your question.”

“It does. Thank you mom.”

“So, who’s the guy?”

“I-I didn’t mention any guy.”

“You didn’t have to. But, he must be worth it though if you’re humble enough to seek out the opinion of your little ole mother.”

“Yeah— we’ll see.”

#sweet creature series #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo x fem!reader #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo #pedro pascal #wildemaven writes

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dabisqueen · 2 years

Text

Cock, Cum, Balls ˋn Toys

⇢ warnings: 18+, minors DNI, heandcanons about Dabi's and Shigaraki's loads of cum, thick balls, girthy cocks – just pure thirsty headcanons. Half the credit goes to @/crumbly-scrombly for writing this with me 💙

(Header by me - it's milk of course...)

His cock

At least 8 inches

Even when it's flaccid its huge (he can do the dick propellor)

The girth is just insane - like the pressure on your pelvis enough to make you cum on the spot once he's fully inserted

You'll definitely have a belly bulge

Slightly curvy, so it's tip grazes the g-spot perfectly

A thick swollen spongy glans

No real thick veins - but the mushroomy tip makes up for that

Pierced of course - a Jacob's Ladder and Prince Albert piercing

You don't need lube with him, he's just naturally dripping with pre

He's trimmed but not shaved (shaving is for pussies)

Perfect happy trail leading up to his thick cock

Cut. And pretty. Has stamina on end.

A really hard throbber

When he cums, he twitches so hard that you just cum again from that alone

His cum

He's the one with the heaviest loads

He fucking floods your wombs with his cum, ain't no way your not gonna get knocked up, this man's a breeding machine

God help you if he takes zinc pills because that'll easily double his cumload

Creamy and thick and it won't easily come out of your cunt after he filled you up good

You're literally gonna still drip hours after being fucked by him

Can cum twice in a row

Has a very intense scent, but still pleasant

It's delicious though – sweet and salty

A bit on the bitter side because of the cigarettes and alcohol

His balls

Not very sensitive

If you gently suck or massage them though he will reward you with even more pre

Really fat because filled to the brim with cum

Nice and heavy, always hang down a bit

Slap against your face when you deepthroat him laying on your back

So huge you won't be able to take both balls into your mouth

Can just suck on one at a time

When he cums they bounce up and twitch with each spurt of cum being released

Toys

Dabi doesn't need any toys. He's all you need to cum. And oh boy is he right

No toy compares to him, his piercings. The way he drags them just right along your sensitive spot

Dabi's got plenty of irl experience, doesn't need porn or toys to show him how things work

But if you ask nicely, he will use them on you

Only to destroy you utterly, leaving you overstimulated and with multiple orgasms having wrecked your body

His cock

Rocks at least 7 inches but GIRTHY AS HELL, regularly needs lube to impale you on it (finds the face you make while he slowly inserts himself hot as hell)

All natural baby – no shaving, no cut, no piercings, just raw cock

He's a grower not a shower

When hard, he curves upward, and when he throbs, his dick looks like it nods

Also has a thick vein on the top

His head is a pretty pink flush against his pale shaft

His cum

It's juicy and watery and he cums loads of it

Feels like he pissed inside you after he came - sheets wet, you're wet, dripping all the way down to the bathroom

Poor man probably needs man pads because he's oozing all the time

His cum doesnt have a strong taste

But his gamer diet makes it really sweet

It's scent isn't very strong either

His balls

They aren't huge, but nice and jiggly

Can take both balls in your mouth

Also, not shaven, so you got something nice n fluffy hanging there

He's very sensitive and will whine when you just gently massage them

Also has a very noticeable happy trail but that's beside the point

Toys

He's the one with the most toys out of everyone you've ever known

Because he had all the time to order them, try them out, watch enough porn movies about them and knows how they all work

Wacking off all the time - at least six times a day

Curiosity always has the better of him, so he continues to order toys, even more so when he has someone else to try them with

He's experimental and when he makes you cum with them, overstimulating you, he feels like the king he is

2K notes · View notes

subzerosongie · 7 months

Text

LUCIFER SFW HEADCANNONS

Omnisexual and Demiromantic, Lucifer finds beauty in just about everyone.

Struggles with affection, Lucifer's rank as an Angel wasn't known for being overly affectionate. Lucifer can come across as suffocating and controlling when he shows affection.

Has deep tissue scars where his angel wings used to be, he did rip them clean off his body.

On the rare occasion he misses his old life but that's a rare feeling, usually when he's heavily intoxicated

He's aware that he misses the memories and not the Celestial Realm himself

His feelings towards the Celestial Realm are mixed at best and negative at worst.

He wishes he could goof off like the others, but understands his role

Struggles with emotions, both others and his own.

Admittedly self indulgent, he makes no effort to hide his fondness for alcohol

Knows how much he has to drink to get to the level of intoxicated he desires

Insists he's not addicted

Smokes when he's particularly stressed out.

Was a leading example of virtue while in the Celestial realm for most of his time there.

Had a rebellious teen phase

Thinks about having kids more often than he'd even admit to

The idea of Romantic relationships with him makes him uneasy, he hasn't been in one in ages and the last one didn't end well.

This is because despite all his good traits as a romantic partner his struggles with affection and general tendencies to be protective, even overprotective at times make him worry about chasing people away

This said, Lucifer loves simple pet names like Darling, My Sweet, Love, Babe/Baby, Honey. He does have a few special ones he's fond of using towards his lover.

Scars litter his body, most are superficial but aside from the wings one, other deep scars are on his chest, lower back, neck, face, arms and legs.

Finds humans endlessly fascinating

Fangs adorn his top and bottom jaws where human canines are located.

Has a beastly demon form, he's rarely had to use it and are a mix of a demon and his symbolic animals of Peacock and Bat. He also hates this form.

Likes the harder musical genres outside cursed records. Metal and Rock are his favourites

Cat person, dogs can be too demanding for his tastes

Likes Salty foods

Winter is favourite season

Heat is actually hard for him to deal with

Devildom's natural climate is perfect for him

He regrets his fall, if he could do it again he'd make sure his brothers got to stay.

Had a decent singing voice, he doesn't sing very often though

Slightly an ambivert, heavily leaning introvert.

He craves social interaction but it drains him pretty fast

Mammon is as much his favourite brother as Mammon is the bane of his existence

Easily flustered when it comes to personal matters

One of his few fears are dying and being called back to the Celestial Realm and losing his family

Likes True Crime

Has PTSD the worst of his Brothers

Also has Depression, it presents through anger and bouts of despondency, he rarely cries or expresses his emotions any other way

He doesn't like this, but doesn't know any other way.

However one way to loosen him up to cry is again, make him intoxicated.

Pride, Lust, Wrath, Envy, Greed, Gluttony and Sloth are the sins ranked in order of intensity

Workaholic

Rarely eats, when he does he eats larger portions to counteract the frequency

Has a hard time sleeping, usually naps throughout the day or when everyone else is sleeping

Lucifer has fallen asleep at his desk more than once.

Gifted in Mathematics

Actually doesn't like to use his powers outside of necessity

Tries to get into or research his brother's hobbies to try and bond with them, with varying rates of success. Works out with Beel, Reads what Satan is reading, lets Asmo paint his nails, etc

More compassionate and caring than his demeanour shows

Wishes to amend things with Satan but understands that to do that, it is on Satan's terms to do so and not a moment sooner

Lucifer's favourite holiday is Halloween

When not working, he's usually reading or corralling his brothers in someway

Takes comfort in Diavolo

Probably needs glasses

Unhealthily relies on Coffee

One of the other brothers have to go in and give him food/drink or drag him from his desk from time to time

Bad at charging his phone

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me headcanons #obey me angst #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me nightbringer

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nametakensff · 4 months

Text

Suggestible (D/isco E/lysium, M/M)

The first fic of a few I have for these two because I am deeep into this shit now lol. Ended up at 4K!

H/arry, whilst working on the murder case in M/artinaise and ever so slowly piecing his identity together, notices an interesting reaction in K/im to his budding cold. I guess the first part of a series that will become increasingly NSFW, but for now mostly just alluding to it!

Based on an insane little piece of dialogue in the game where K/im suggests that other people sneezing makes him sneeze

~~~~~~

Content:

Future/hinted M/M, cold sneezes, sympathetic sneezes, H/arry has a latent sneezing fetish that he doesn't remember having yet, spray, stifles, sneezing into handkerchiefs, slight elements of voyeurism but only because H/arry is a confused mess lmao

CW: lots of drug and alcohol mentions, lots of self-hatred

NB - I guess please don't read if you plan on playing the game and want to go in with no prior knowledge - it doesn't really have any plot heavy spoilers but takes place within the story

(also also - decided to write this in 2nd person narrative to somewhat resemble the style of game play - it's not perfect but it was fun to try haha)

Minors DNI please!

Lieutenant Kitsuragi trails behind you as you jog your way across the empty boardwalk and towards the fishing village. The air is piercing and bitterly cold – you are starting to feel the effects of it as the salty air whips against your face. It has been snowing on and off for hours, and you are woefully underdressed. This has not been a good day for you – few new leads, endless dead ends. And a hangover. The hangover to end all hangovers. Not even the frigid winter weather can distract you from the dull thud of a lingering headache, painful pulses beating in time with your heart. It feels as though your brain is too swollen – or your skull is too tight.

Suddenly, you feel it – the familiar, fluttering sensation of a building sneeze. You have been a little under the weather ever since you awoke in your hotel room several days earlier, having no recollection of who you are and woefully bereft of substances to abuse. You had put any subsequent discomfort down to just that – the miserable lack of alcohol, nicotine and narcotics in your system. This tickle, however – it is something all of its own. You stop dead in your tracks, practically skidding to a stop as it crests. You have no hope of holding back the encroaching sneeze. Your mouth hangs open, a great yawn of irritation, before – at last – release.

It comes out sounding more like a desperate shriek than anything else; a few startled seagulls scatter, flying away in a maelstrom of confusion and feathers. You didn’t mean to cause such a scene, but the cold air, the breeze, and now the beginning of a miserable cold – it all proves too much for you. You take in another shuddering gasp before you’ve even recovered from the previous explosion and do it all over again.

“HAAAEEEIISHHHHhhh!!!”

There are no seagulls left to scatter this time, but you hardly notice for the way this sneeze, even more violent than the one before it, sends you flying forward and staggering on your feet. You manage to catch yourself before you fall face down on the sandy ground, panting slightly in the aftermath. It practically tore itself out of you, leaving your throat more than a little hoarse. Perhaps a drink would be just the thing to remedy your misery…

You’re shaken out of your alcoholic deliberation by a familiar, soft voice. Lieutenant Kitsuragi is resting a gentle, gloved hand on your shoulder, hovering next to your crouched form. His voice is as placid as always, but you can’t help but notice a slight hint of concern. You right yourself immediately and snuffle at the mess that’s threatening to overflow from your nose, already a bright shade of red from years of alcohol abuse and the biting cold of the beach.

“Are you alright, Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor?”

The Lieutenant notices the thickness of the sound, a barely perceptible look of displeasure passing over his face. You see him reach into his pockets and pull out a large handkerchief – the very same you have seen him use before to cover his face as you performed a field autopsy together. He proffers it to you and you hesitate for just a moment - then your nose starts to run into your moustache. This prompts you to take it from him and snuffle into it apologetically. You realise this pathetic sniffling will do nothing to stem the flow – you surrender and blow your nose with as much conviction as you possibly can. The sound of it is devastatingly loud, almost as disruptive as the sneezes preceding it. You glance at Kim sheepishly from behind the material. If it’s as disgusting to Lieutenant Kitsuragi as it sounded to you, he doesn’t so much as flinch.

When you’re finished, you offer the soiled fabric back to him with an outstretched hand. He looks at it with mild dismay.

“You keep that, officer. I carry a spare with me at all times.”

Stupid. That was stupid of you. Why would you hand him a snot rag? You dismiss the thought before the negativity drags you down further into the already miserable grips of your hangover. But for whatever reason, you keep note of this new information regarding the handkerchiefs. It’s not as though this is out of the ordinary for Kim. He’s so organised and focused – a great cop. Not like you. Of course he would carry a spare. Moving on, you ask the lieutenant for his opinion of what you ought to do next.

“Hm…We should return to the Whirling-In-Rags. Try Klaasje again and see if she’s ready to discuss the murder in more detail.”

It sounds like a perfect idea to you. The wind is fiercely cold and you never did get round to buying a windbreaker. Your hangover is making it impossible to tell if the major discomfort you’re feeling is from the alcohol dissipating within your husk of a body, or the virus threatening to take hold of your sinuses. Either way, getting out of the cold is imperative.

You approach the vicinity of the Whirling-In-Rags Hostel – at last. Your chest burns. Normally, a brisk jog is nothing to you – if anything, it energises your ailing body after a particularly lengthy binge. But today, you feel miserably worn out. You pause for a moment, look towards the Lieutenant, and attempt to speak. You fail, nothing but a series of wheezing gasps issuing from between your lips, followed by an increasingly hacking cough. You buckle over your knees and continue to hack like the washed-up middle-aged man you know you are. Kim places a hand on your back - he seems worried.

“This isn’t good. You’re unwell, detective. Perhaps you should rest a while in your room?”

Something tells you this isn’t a suggestion exclusively for your own benefit. A perfunctory glance tells you that Lieutenant Kitsuragi is tired, and as miserably cold as you. He wouldn’t mind a break inside a warm building, thawing out over a cup of coffee. Nevertheless, you feel disappointment blooming in your chest. As if you weren’t already a pathetic excuse of a policeman - missing memory, decked head to toe in questionable clothes and with a penchant for drug and drink on the clock – you’re now so weak you can’t even handle a mild case of rhinovirus. Pathetic.

You stand upright in an attempt to signal that you are and always have been a perfect beacon of health. You tell the Lieutenant that time is of the essence; you’ve been working on this case for days and have no time for further setbacks. He acknowledges this with a small nod; he seems to appreciate this professional, business-like approach to the matter. He doesn’t say anything more but merely walks beside you as you stride towards the Whirling-In-Rags.

You barely manage to take a few steps before the tickle is upon you again. You tense your jaw and attempt to quell the sensation by taking in shallow, measured breaths, but no dice. In seconds, it tears its way out of you as before, echoing off the walls of the nearby buildings. It is so loud that you wonder if the scabs protesting outside of the Union can hear it over the sounds of their own angry chants. Again, you stumble forward under the force of it, feeling light-headed.

The Lieutenant reaches out to grip your shoulder, steadying you just in time. You wait and sniffle miserably in preparation for the following sneeze, lingering in the depths of your sinuses, but it never comes. You straighten up, blinking tears of effort from your tired eyes, when you become aware of a certain sensation. Kim’s hand squeezes your shoulder with a sudden flex. Could this be a gesture of affection? Reassurance? This is not the Lieutenant’s regular style. He is far too cool for that kind of thing.

You look over your shoulder in curiosity as the Lieutenant continues his grip, despite your having collected yourself. You can see that behind the lenses of his glasses, his eyes are unfocused and heavy-lidded. His mouth hangs slightly open, and he is holding a fist – expectantly? – before his face. The expression is…familiar. You’d seen it before, though not on Lieutenant Kitsuragi.

As you furrow your brow in deep consideration, reaching for an explanation that only just manages to elude you, slight movement from Kim pulls you out of your thoughts. You watch as his head tilts back, stays there for a just a moment before he’s jerking forward into his gloved fist, pressing it against his nose and mouth. His features contract severely, moulding his ordinarily placid face into a twisted, almost angry and unrecognisable countenance. You feel his fingers flex again. His entire body shudders, and as it does so, you hear him utter a tiny sound.

“-hHdt’!”

You blink, still not putting two and two together. Maybe this amnesia was worse than you had initially assumed it to be. Was he – seizing? No. Of course not. You continue to watch in confusion as he seems to uncrumple with a gentle exhalation. You think he might be done, but no. Just as quickly as one breath is exhaled, a replacement is sucked back in hurriedly. You watch as he repeats the action, ducking forward into his fist again, more forcefully this time. His shoulders jump with the effort and his hand squeezes substantially harder against you.

“h’Ngxt-!! hh…”

That strange sound again – this time followed by an uncharacteristically shaky exhale. A moment later the Lieutenant straightens up and assumes his regular composure, releasing your shoulder as if nothing just happened. If you hadn’t watched this series of events unfold right in front of you, you’re sure you would have missed it altogether. He blinks several times as if to clear away tears. Still you have no idea what the fuck just happened – any remnants of the pained expression that cinched his features tight has vanished, leaving him to look as calm and collected as before. You stare at him, eyes roving over his face. This intrusive observation gives you the last bit of information you need to understand. His nostrils flare delicately as he indulges in a sniffle, moisture gathering around the irritated rims and glittering ever so slightly in the afternoon sunlight.

Had those been…sneezes? Those tiny little swallows of air?! You feel a grin spread across your face, any discomfort of your own forgotten for the moment. You bless him enthusiastically. Ignoring the inkling that tells you not to tease or cajole him, you also comment on how adorable the Lieutenant’s sneezes are. Like a kitten. A badass cop kitten.

He thanks you somewhat reluctantly, blatantly ignoring the kitten comment. He clearly wants you to move on from him and focus again on the case. You continue to make your way towards Whirling-In-Rags, but don’t miss out of the corner of your eye the sight of the Lieutenant covertly pinching his nostrils shut, before pulling down towards his septum. He is wiping the resultant moisture of those sneezes away with his gloved fingers. This realisation makes your heartbeat spike for just a moment. You choose to ignore this.

You walk into the establishment – the increasingly familiar sounds and sights greet you as you pass through the door. The Hardie boys are in their booths, an unwelcome fixture. You glance sidelong at them – Titus glares daggers back at you. You think you should puff up your chest and stare him down in a battle of warring machismo, but at last minute think otherwise. It would do nothing to repair your already abysmal lack of authority if you sneezed at him mid stand-off. You glance away. He smirks, arms crossed firmly over his broad chest, clearly enjoying this silent display of dominance. You get an all-consuming urge to spin around and put him in his place – but you feel shitty. Much too shitty. It would probably end with his fist in your face.

You approach the staircase leading to the bedrooms when you feel that familiar, irritating tickle blossoming anew in your sinuses. Not again, not here! Not in a busy room full of so many people. You want to maintain your cool cop image – sneezing is not a cool thing to do. You briefly think to yourself that Kim is cool, even when he sneezes - but it is a foolish thought. You’re not him. You fight to suppress the gasp that fills your lungs, fumbling in your jacket pocket for the handkerchief the lieutenant had given you – but you’re too late. Two huge sneezes rocket out of you, sending veritable clouds of spray across the base of the staircase. They practically break the sound barrier, two near identical “IIIIEEEESHHHHhhtt!!!” screams of irritation. Kim doesn’t steady you this time – you reach out and do that yourself with the help of the banister.

Jeers erupt from the Hardie boys across the cafeteria floor – you only just manage to hold back an embarrassed blush from creeping over your weary face. You have finally managed to extract the handkerchief from your pocket. You decide a honking performance will do very little to remedy this utter humiliation, dabbing softly at your aching nose instead. You begin to climb the stairs; a sordid walk of shame.

“That’s just what this establishment needs, following the hanging, bloated corpse – a biohazardous drunk anointing his plague unto us all.”

That snark came from Garte – the bartender. No, the Cafeteria Manager.

“Just ignore him.” Kim mutters close to your ear. You proceed to flip the bird at Garte instead. As you make your way upstairs, you swear you can hear a tiny gasp from behind you. Without the sensation of a hand gripping your shoulder and signalling the completion of a sneeze, you have to strain your ears to even confirm they happen at all.

“’Ngxt’ch! h’ddt’! Hh’Ggkt!!”

Those are definitely sneezes. Slightly louder than before, enough that you can hear the Lieutenant’s own soft voice blending in with the strained sound of them. Your stomach is suddenly alive with butterflies. In your mind’s eye you can visualise the way his face crumples with each of them – nostrils flaring outwards as he valiantly bites down against them. You are sure if you try to do the same, your head will explode. Or at the very least, an aneurism is a surefire possibility. You shudder at the thought of it. You want to offer a blessing to the Lieutenant, but based on the previous reception it received, you decide against it. This could be the start of a beautiful partnership – Harry’n’Kim, Du Bois and Kitsuragi. Disco Cop and Cool Cop. You can always brainstorm on your trademark duo name at a later date. Either way, you decide to ignore the Lieutenant’s strangled outburst. A soft exhalation behind you signals that he is finished – for now.

You reach the top of the stairs. With great dismay, you realise that perhaps for the first time in your life, you are experiencing firsthand the effect of all those years of chain smoking. The wheezing gasps bend you over for a moment. Lieutenant Kitsuragi stands nearby, just short of nervously hovering, waiting for you to recover. You finally catch your breath and stride as confidently as you can towards Klaasje’s room. You extend a fist to knock on the door when you feel the soft touch of Kim’s hand on your arm, stopping you in your tracks. This has to be a new record. He has touched you on four separate occasions – all in a span of under thirty minutes.

“Perhaps you should take this opportunity to rest after all, detective.” Kim offers. You sense by the firmness of his voice that this is less of a gentle suggestion and more of a request. He smiles wryly.

“You are not very likely to get her to open up to you if you deafen her with your sneezing.”

Your stomach flips at hearing that word come out of his mouth. It is confusing but not entirely unpleasant. Whilst he doesn’t laugh, you can see the amusement held in the subtle quirking of his lips. You think for a moment that you should tell him your sneezes are the pinnacle of masculinity – ladies dig a huge, manly sneeze. You choose instead to sigh, practically deflating as any will to remain poised upright seeps out of you. You know he’s right. The filthy sheets of your bed beckon to you.

You agree with him and turn heel to your own room. He looks pleased – perhaps a little relieved. How disastrous did he think the interaction would have gone, had you proceeded? He turns to face you as you stand outside your respective doors.

“Don’t worry, detective. I will wake you up in a couple of hours, and we can resume our investigation. There is no point in making yourself ill.”

You nod. You are both about to enter your rooms when you feel it again. The tickle. It is persistent and increasingly difficult to control. You feel a gasp inflating your chest, helpless to do anything other than let the sensation overpower you. There is no time to even lift the handkerchief to your face. You do manage to turn away from the Lieutenant as the sneeze rips through you, baptising your own door with a trembling “aaAAAAEEEEGSHHHHhh!!!” A cloud of spray settles on the wood, droplets of spray shimmering under the harsh lighting. Gross.

“Bless you.”

A blessing. You feel relieved – and slightly giddy. Your stomach flips again. It is likely out of politeness, but the Lieutenant has at least not run for the hills in response to your disgusting display. You start to thank him when – oh, sweet confusion - he interrupts you with another sneeze of his own. He isn’t fast enough to bring a fist to his face this time. You can see every minute twitch of his facial muscles as he suppresses the sneeze through sheer willpower alone.

“Hh’Gnxt!! Huh’NGxtt!!”

The second sneeze follows immediately – his head dips twice in quick succession. That look of desperation suits him just fine, you think. You decide to abandon the thought as quickly as it forms. You are only partially successful in doing so. His hand reaches into the pocket of his trousers – he succeeds in removing the handkerchief in the duration of that second sneeze, you notice in great appreciation. You would never have managed to pull that off.

You watch as he raises the handkerchief before his face for a final sneeze. This one looks more irritable than the ones prior – the expression plastered on his face is openly more agonised than before. He pauses for what is likely only a second longer before the tickle reaches its apex, but that is more than enough time for another thought to cross your mind – one of an entirely salacious nature. You think that the face he is making resembles the sweet agony of another kind of release. You try to unthink it, but it’s too late – you’re absolutely, undeniably thinking it. The second passes. At last, the lieutenant smothers his final sneeze into the waiting folds of the handkerchief. It is considerably louder than before, even with the assistance of the fabric covering.

“hHh’nNGgxtt!!..chu…”

The soft vocal exclamation that rounds off the sneeze sounds weary, like it took a lot out of him. He sniffles briefly into the handkerchief, rubbing at his nose before tucking the cloth back into his pocket. Is it your imagination, or is said appendage starting to look a little reddened from the effort?

“Excuse me.” The Lieutenant mumbles, sounding uncomfortable. Embarrassed, perhaps?

You bless him before you remember to bite your tongue. Luckily, he accepts it with a soft “Thank you.” You watch as he removes his glasses and swipes at a stray tear rolling down his cheek. He replaces them just as quickly, giving you hardly any time to take in the sight of him without the thick frames. It is for a brief moment only, but the word ‘vulnerable’ comes to mind.

It dawns on you quite suddenly that he must be sneezing because you have infected him with your disgusting, no good germs. You ask him if this is the case, unable to hold back the shaking guilt as you voice your question-cum-self-abasement. He waves it off immediately.

“Oh, no, it’s nothing like that, detective, I assure you. I’m fine.” He pauses for a moment, looking hesitant to say more. You say nothing. This awkward silence seems to prompt him to continue.

“Sometimes the power of suggestion is too much for me. When somebody sneezes in my vicinity, I find my body often wanting to do the same. And your sneezes are particularly…” He trails off for a moment, in want of an appropriate term.

Masculine? Sexy? Bad-ass? You go with the first one. He shakes his head gently.

“…Suggestible.” He finishes. You’re not quite sure you catch his drift, but you do recall that he had mentioned something like this before. ‘Dancing makes you dance like sneezing makes you sneeze’. He had said that, in the church – he had been enthusiastic to interject, and then immediately changed the subject. You had had no idea what he had meant at the time – not once had you ever heard anyone say anything even remotely similar. It had been easily forgotten. Until now.

You smirk. You hope it isn’t akin to ‘the expression’, but is happening nonetheless. You cannot help it. This. Is. Gold.

You manage to hold back from laughing, but what you cannot help is calling him adorable. For the second time that day.

“I’m a 43 year old RCM policeman. I am far from adorable, officer.” He states firmly, almost as if he is chiding you. You do not miss, however, the softness in his eyes and the momentary twitching of his lips into a tiny smile. You do laugh at that. Bad idea. The laugh quickly morphs into a painful, wrenching cough. Whatever light-hearted moment you’d been sharing, you have ruined it. Your throat burns with the effort. God, but you want a drink. And a smoke. Maybe some speed. You finish at last, wiping spittle from your lips with the back of your sleeve.

“Please rest, Harry. I will check up on you soon.”

He casts a final worried glance your way before nodding curtly. You watch as the door clicks shut behind him. After a moment, you make your way into your own room, not even bothering to kick off your shoes as you collapse onto the pile of twisted sheets. Far too tired to think about the past that eludes you, about the case, about any of it, your eyes start to slip shut.

But it is back. The tickle. You have no means of fighting it, and you’re not sure you want to. You sneeze, smothering it into your sheets at the last second.

“HHHRRMMMPPPSHHHh!!!”

You peer cautiously at the sheets. You have left a considerably large damp patch on the section that covered your mouth and nose. Gross – that should be your middle name. You feel disgusting, but before you can begin another spiral of self-deprecation the exhaustion overwhelms you entirely. A final thought passes through your mind as you surrender to it. Did the Lieutenant hear you?

Next door, settling into the chair at his desk, Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi tenses at the sound of your sneeze. It was loud enough to be heard not only the next room over – indeed, anyone on the second floor may have been startled by it. His breath hitches, once, twice, before he is tipping forward into his gloved hands, steepled around his face. Depleted of energy from the prior onslaughts, he is unable to hold them back at all.

“-hh! Hck’tshuu! Hupt’Tshhht!! ‘TSCHH’uu!! hm...”

He glances in unmasked irritation at the damp speckling of moisture now adorning the palms of his gloves.

“Merde!” He grumbles under his breath. The Lieutenant pulls the gloves from his hands, pausing to scrub at his itchy nostrils with his knuckles for one indulgent moment, before resuming the paperwork he had failed to complete the night before. He hopes, for both your own sake and his, that once he wakes you your sneezing spell will have passed – due to a temporary chill and nothing more. Neither of you have the time for this absurdity. He sniffles once more and begins to write.

#nametakenfic #d/isco e/lysium #sneeze fic #sneeze kink #snz fet #snz kink #snz fucker #snzblr #sneeze fucker

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choke-me-joey · 1 year

Text

Ch1/Ch2

Summary: As Joe's long-term girlfriend, you reflect on your relationship over the last 4 years.

Content warning: 18+ so minors are not welcome, real person fiction (don't like, don't read, don't bitch), smut, fluff, angst, probably inaccurate timelines and processes but does anyone really care?, alcohol use, smoking...if I've missed anything please let me know!!

Author's note: when I was deep in my Dan and Phil phase I wrote this, published it on AO3 and then took it down so before anyone says "Hey this looks familiar" don't panic, I'm not stealing anyone's work and I can prove it lmao. Thanks to @harrys-four-nipples for reading this first chapter and telling me it wasn't as shit as I thought. Love you girl 🥰 feedback is always appreciated, let me know if you'd like me to continue this!

Paris

December 2022

After the craziest year anyone could ever imagine, exploring and staying in a variety of hotels across the globe, the last convention of 2022 was finally happening. You had been by your boyfriend's side the entire time; your job as a freelance photographer/social media specialist pretty much allowed you to travel anywhere and everywhere and luckily Joe's team were on board with you providing his official con photos and managing his social media. But as ideal as that sounds, it hadnt been easy.

It had been one of the best experiences of your life, watching the man that you love so, so much bring so much joy to the millions of people around the world who adored him. Despite being at every convention, watching all the fan interactions and all the panels, you were never bored. It hadn't all been perfect though, in fact it had been extremely trying at times, what with Joe being so damn exhausted there was barely any 'you' time, or fans getting a little bit too crazy at the meet and greets, but you wouldn't have traded it for the world.

You'd think that being cooped up on planes, in hotel rooms and travelling constatnly for months on end, spending almost every waking minute of the day together would have seriously damaged your relationship, but in all honesty, it brought you and Joe closer together. Sure, there have been times where you’ve wanted to smother each other with the shitty hotel pillows, but what couple doesn't argue? Without the option of slamming the bedroom door shut and sulking, you've learnt to just talk it out, and move on, and things have just gotten better and better. You had just celebrated our 4 year anniversary in Tokyo last month, and Jamie was constantly teasing you, telling you if you didn't get a ring this Christmas, you two could just run away together instead.

Of course, Joe had gotten super salty at the joke, seemingly never being able to escape the never ending question from his family and friends of when he was finally going to pop the question. He didn't need it from Jamie now too. He was going to do it, he just didn't want to rush it after all.

As it was the last con of 2022, Joe's team had given you some time off to just enjoy the convention, acknowledging that you had worked through your anniversary in Japan. This meant you could actually walk around the con and hang out with some of your friends, and enjoy the panels, which you were grateful for. You had some time to chat with Joe's dad too, which was always a good time, you got on so well with him and it was nice to see just how proud he was of his son.

Although you had been together for 4 years now, you and Joe weren't quite comfortable with going public with your relationship just yet. Joe had sky rocketed to fame overnight and his fanbase could be a little...intense. They went into a frenzy if he was spotted within 5 feet of another girl, and said girls were always stalked and harassed online and Joe didn't want that for you. You'd been pretty good at hiding it so far, most fans just thinking you were part of Joe's management team always there to keep him on schedule. It was a bit shit not being able to hold his hand or give him a hug in public but when the time was right, you both agreed you would go public.

You had headed back to the hotel a little before the con was over, Joe would no doubt get waylaid by fans outside the convention centre and you'd said you would order you both some food and run a bath for him so he could just relax now he was done for the Christmas period. New Orleans was a little after New Years so you'd have time to explore Paris, get home for Christmas and see in the New Year together.

Joe practically collapses through the door and you run to hug him, you were both desperate to touch each other after a long day of pretending to be work friends.

"Hi," you mumbled into his neck. "Last one for this year done, babe. I'm so proud of you."

He doesn't respond, he's holding onto you as if someone was threatening to take you away from him. "Babe, what's wrong?"

"I love you so much," he whispers. "Thank you."

"Joe, you don't need to thank-"

"Yeah, I do. I just thought that you've been there from the very start, and you've worked so hard, putting up with all my shit and you've been so supportive. I couldn't have done it without you." He sniffs, looking a little emotional. "Tonight was the first night I've actually been able to see you and not your camera, and knowing you were actually there, right in front of me, like, everything from the past 4 years went through my head and I could see you smiling at me, and the fans and I just..." he trails off, at a loss for words. You kiss his cheek, your own eyes welling up.

"You're such a soppy git, Joe." You tease him, but he knows you're joking.

"Shut up, you're just as soppy. " He laughs, poking you in the side gently. You poke my tongue out at him and he crosses his eyes in response, before my phone buzzes to let me know our food has been delivered to the hotel lobby. You break away from Joe, kissing his cheek and heading downstairs to grab your food.

You both scoff down your food, both of you having been way too busy to really eat a proper meal today, and then Joe gets into the bath. He tries to persuade you to join him, but honestly the bathtub here was smaller than the one at home, and even that could be a struggle to fit the both of you in, so you decline, changing into your pyjamas and watching some random show on TV and scrolling through your phone, replying to messages in the Quinn family group chat and your own family group chat.

You can't help but bite your lip in appreciation as Joe comes back into the bedroom, a towel around his waist and his curls dripping. He makes his way over to his suitcase in search for a pair of clean boxers. Your eyes scan over his bare torso, his broad shoulders, sharp collarbones, toned arms and his perfect stomach with a dusting of dark hair disappearing into the towel. He feels your eyes on him, standing up and turning around.

"What?" He smirks, stifling a yawn. You return his smirk, stretching a little.

"Nothing, just admiring my boyfriend. That alright with you?"

"Depends, can I ogle you like a pervert the next time you come out in just a towel?" Joe jokes, quickly pulling his boxers on under his towel, pulling it off and hanging it back up in the bathroom, before crawling on the bed and collapsing on his stomach, sighing heavily.

"You do anyway, I'm just more subtle about my staring, Quinn."

"You're just as pervy as me, Y/N, dont even try and pretend you're not. " he laughs, turning onto his side, pulling you down and wrapping his arm around you. You cuddle into him, burying your face in his neck.

"Difference is, Joseph, the whole Internet can see what a flirt you are, nobody has dirt on me."

"M'too tired for your smart arse right now."

"You like my smart arse." You grin into his skin, and he chuckles, the sound rumbling in his throat.

"I like your smart everything," he mumbles, kissing the top of your head. You sigh in response, enjoying the feeling of him cuddled up to you. "M'so tired. And my back is killing me."

"Did you twinge it again?"

"Mm. Hurts."

You untangle myself from him and roll off the bed, rummaging through your suitcases until you find the baby oil you always use to keep your skin moisturised after a shower. You shake it up as you walk towards the bed. "On your stomach, babe."

"That is the most terrifying thing you could say to me whilst holding baby oil." He eyes the bottle in your hands suspiciously, but does what you've said anyway.

"I believe that would actually be 'face down, ass up and just relax'." You smirk, climbing back on the bed, straddling his legs. He groans dramatically, making you roll your eyes and laugh. "You're such a drama queen, babe."

"Making a living off of it, aren't I?"

"Yeah, yeah, shut up Mr Man of the Year." You quip, opening the bottle and pour some of the oil into your hands, rubbing them together to warm it up before pressing your palms against his shoulder blades. You apply just the amount of pressure that you know he likes, rubbing his flawless skin. "That okay?"

He responds by letting out a quiet moan of approval.

"How did I get so lucky?" Joe groans into the pillow as you continue to rub his shoulders and upper back, trying your best to work out the knots in his muscles. You smile, placing a kiss to the back of his neck that makes him shiver slightly.

"You elbowed me in the tits on the Underground and made me spill my coffee all over myself." You chuckle, adjusting your position on his legs so you could massage further down.

"The one time in my whole life that me being a clumsy twat has actually worked out in my favour." Joe's voice is muffled by the pillow, but you can tell he's smiling. He grunts in pleasure as you knead his lower back gently.

"Meh, you're just lucky I thought you were hot." You teased, gently poking him in the sides. He chuckles softly. "And you were, and still can be, so socially awkward, it was endearing."

"Mm, love you." He mumbles, and you know he's slowly falling asleep by the way his body is relaxing beneath you.

"Love you too, babe." You whisper back, moving off of his back and into bed next to him, pulling the covers over both of you. Ypu push his curls back from over his face. "Always have, always will." You kiss his temple and turn off the bedside lamp, letting him sleep off the post convention exhaustion whilst you take advantage of the good selection of TV channels the hotel has.

A few hours later, you're still awake and on your phone, scrolling through Instagram, the TV long turned off. You're laid on your side facing away from your currently snoring boyfriend. Joe grumbles in his sleep and rolls over, moulding his body around yours and spooning you. You feel something poking you in your bum and smirk to yourself, wiggling your butt back against him.

"Hmm, you still awake?" Joe whispers, his voice rough with sleep and exhaustion, one of his hands running over your thigh.

"Mm, I didn't wake you up, did I?" You reply, shivering in delight as his lips graze your neck. You roll over to face him, and he moves your leg on top of his, moving your bodies closer together as he kisses you hard, his hands wandering around to your ass and squeezing it.

Oh.

You see where this is going.

"Are you sure you're up to this, Joe? You're exhausted." You say quietly, trying your best to control your breathing after you break away. Thanks to your busy schedules, it been at least two weeks since you'd last had sex. You snuck in whatever you could, but mostly it was just heavy make out sessions or occasionally a hand and/or blow job to help with Joe's anxiety levels. You were practically soaked already and he'd barely touched you.

"Never too tired for you," he mumbles, pecking your lips softly, and slowly lifting up the hem of your (his) shirt. "Off?"

You nod, and you both work together to rid you of the oversized shirt. "C'mere," he grunts, rolling you on top of him, his hands on your hips as he looks up at me.

"Lazy," you tease, your skin feeling like it's on fire as he runs his hands up your sides.

"Beautiful." He responds, giving you that little smile that makes your heart melt every time. It's a smile that only you get to see, and it's during your intimate moments like this that he smiles like that, and you fall in love with him all over again. You hum and lean down, kissing him passionately, your tongues dancing around each other. His hands return to your hips, pushing them down against his crotch as he lifts his hips up, and the friction and heat makes you both moan. You nibble on his bottom lip, which you know drives him crazy, before moving to kiss his jawline and neck, a somewhat external G-spot for him. "Fuck..."

"Well, if you want, I mean, I was just gonna suck you off and then take care of myself," you grin against his skin, and he responds by slapping your ass lightly. In return, you bite gently on his collarbone, and he grunts, the noise going straight in between your legs. "What do you want, Joe? Tell me."

"Wanna fuck you," he growls, turning his head and capturing your bottom lip between his teeth and tugging gently. "Wanna be inside you so bad, baby, please."

You whimper, nodding. Foreplay would have to wait for tonight.

You sit up and awkwardly peel off your underwear, throwing it somewhere in the room, deciding you'd find it in the morning. You gently palm Joe's cock through his boxers, making him grunt and moan your name loudly, before pulling them down his legs, and he kicks them off his feet. You take his cock into your hand, squeezing gently and stroking him a few times. "Please, baby, m'not gonna last long..." You'll let him off for that, it really has been forever since you last fucked. You reach across to the bedside table, grabbing a condom from your makeup bag (damn your birth control prescription running out before you'd realised) and tearing it open. He holds his hands out to put it on himself, but you slap them away, rolling it on him as slowly as possible, making him grit his teeth, grunt and buck his hips slightly.

Deciding to be a bit more of a tease, you hover above him for a few seconds, grinding down ever so slightly. He grips your hips so tight there will definitely be bruises in the morning, and he bites his lip, whimpering and cursing. You decide to let him off, because you want this just as much as he does, and you place the head of his cock at your dripping pussy, slowly sinking down onto him. He throws his head back and moans, a little too loudly, as do you. "God, I missed this...missed you."

"I missed you too," you sigh, placing your hands on his chest, giving yourself a bit of leverage before you start to move your hips. "Fuck, Joe, you feel so fucking good..." as much as you want this to last, you know it won't. You can already feel your orgasm growing as you grind down against him. He bucks his hips up, his cock brushing my g-spot. "Oh my god, Joe!"

"Fuck," he growls, his breathing heavy. "Faster, baby, please, I-" he cuts himself off with a moan as you obey. "Shit, fuck!"

"You're so loud," you giggle breathlessly, gasping as he places his thumb on your clit and rubs in time with your thrusts. "We're gonna get noise complai-AH, FUCK, JOE!"

"I'm the loud one, am I?" Fucking asshole.

"Shut up," You gasp, as he sits up, wrapping your legs around him and attaches his lips to your collarbone, sucking and biting as you move together. You can tell he's getting close from the way his breath is coming out in pants, and his moans are getting more desperate sounding. He rests his forehead against your shoulder, and you run your fingers through his curly hair, and he looks up at you.

"Kiss me," he whispers, and of course, you do. "M'getting close."

"Me too," you whisper back, and he reaches between you to stroke your clit. "Joe, I-"

"I know."

The room is filled with your moans, and heavy breathing as you both get closer and closer to the edge. Joe moves his hand and lies you down on the bed, so he's on top. He winks at you, and smirks as he puts your legs around his waist, and his hands either side of your head. He ducks down and kisses you softly before moving his hips, fucking you hard and fast, the way he knows you like it.

"Oh,my god Joe, I'm gonna cum!" You moan, digging your nails into his back.

"Do it, wanna feel you cum for me," he groans, and all it takes is him angling his hips just right, and you're coming, moaning his name probably way too loud, your whole body shaking. Joe curses and stills, pushing his cock inside you one last time as he cums into the condom, hard, his head dropping onto your shoulder as he whispers your name, telling you he loves you. You say it back, stroking his neck gently as he collapses on top of you, his head on your chest. "You're amazing."

"I think you'll find that's you, babe." You say breathlessly, grinning like a fool.

"I am pretty fucking good in bed, aren't I?" Joe grins, a teasing lilt to his voice.

"You always know what to say...so romantic," you roll your eyes, poking him in the tummy.

"Mhmm, you're very lucky. I mean, I even make sure you cum every single time we fuck, if that's not true love, I don't know what is." He pulls off the condom, tying it and throwing it into the bedside bin.

"Be still my beating heart!" You laugh and kiss the top of his head, rolling out from underneath him. He pouts, reaching out for you with grabby hands. "Joe, as much as I'd love to cuddle right now, I seriously need to shower after that. Wanna come with?"

"Depends, you might have to roll me, you've worn me out." he yawns, sitting up on the bed. "Besides, I already had a bath. Can't you just give me a sponge bath or something so I don't have to move?"

"Again, lazy. And I know you already showered, but if you think I'm cuddling with you when you smell like sweat and sex, you can fuck right off." You tease, grinning with your tongue poking between your teeth. You turn around, heading into the bathroom and turning on the shower. After waiting for the water to warm up, you step in, relishing the warmth cascading over you. A few minute later, you feel Joe's arms wrap around your waist and his body pressing up against yours. You stand in silence for a few moments, letting water fall down over you both. He then turns you around in his arms so you're facing him, your arms around his neck.

"Y'know, we could have just done it in here, that way we could be in bed right now." He says, flicking his wet hair out of his eyes. You run your fingers over the short hairs at the back of his neck as he leans his forehead against yours.

"Hey, I'm not the one who fell asleep before we'd even had a chance to do anything."

His face falls a little. "I'm sorry, I've been kind of a shitty boyfriend recently, haven't I?"

"What are you talking about?" You frown up at him, his beautiful brown eyes avoiding yours.

"Well, just with conventions and appearances and everything, and how busy we've been, I haven't had time to just...be with you, y'know?"

"Joe, we live together, we travel together, we're with each other every day almost-"

"That's not what I mean, we haven't been on a date in literally forever, I was at the con in Tokyo the entire day of our anniversary, and my dad was with us all day before that, for fucks sake!"

"Your dad is pretty much with us all the time, babe. It doesnt bother me, you know how much I love him. Turn around." You say, squirting some shampoo into your hand and massaging his scalp. He sighs.

"See, this is what I mean. You do all this nice stuff for me, like the back rubs, the food runs, the surprise blowies-"

"Which I do because I want to, not because I feel like I have to." You take the shower head off the wall and rinse his hair out, before running some conditioner through it. "I love you, and I know exactly what being with you entails. What kind of girlfriend would I be if I got salty about everything?"

"A normal one." Joe retorts, turning back around and gesturing for you to turn your back to him so he can wash your hair for you. "And I'm glad you're not, I just feel bad. You do everything for me and I can't even give you five minutes recently."

You don't respond, revelling in the feel of his fingers on your scalp, massaging in the shampoo. You hum appreciatively. He rinses out the shampoo and runs conditioner through your hair, making sure to cover every inch. "When we get home, I promise I'll make it up to you."

"Joe-"

"Please? We can go out and celebrate our anniversary properly, dinner, drinks, a movie, whatever you want."

You turn back around to face him. "What I want, is to stay in, order Chinese, shag and then fall asleep on the sofa with you. Joe you don't have to take me out, or buy me shit to make me feel like you love me. I know you love me, without all the materialistic crap, okay?"

He said nothing, instead he looked at you his eyes looking a little misty. He was an emotional mess tonight, but you couldn't really blame him. He blinked a couple of times, and kissed you on the nose.

"Turn around, you sap." He mumbled, giving you a small smile. He basically meant 'stop before you make me cry' in fewer words. You laughed softly, before turning back around so he could rinse your hair and his. Once you're clean, you step out and dry yourselves off, and you put on Joe's shirt again, this time pairing it with some pyjama shorts. You quickly dry my hair before getting back into bed, settling down with your head on his chest and his arms around you. "See, isn't this better than standing up and actually moving?"

"Mm," you sigh, already feeling your eyes getting heavy. "I miss our bed though."

"Me too, when we get home we are gonna spoon so fucking hard in bed for like a week." He mumbles into your hair.

"What about food and stuff?" You look up at him, raising an eyebrow. He laughs.

"Of all the things you're worried about, I love how food is at the top of that list. I fucking love you." He kisses the top of your head and switches off the bedside light. "Maybe we can persuade Wes to bring us breakfast in bed."

"Oh yeah, I can totally see him being okay with that," you laugh, my hand resting on Joe's stomach. "If anything, you owe me breakfast in bed after all these bloody photos I've taken of you. Know how hard it is to make you look good mid sentence?"

"Ouch, low blow, babe."

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding. You know I love looking at you, chocolate button eyes." You tease, laughing as he groans into his pillow.

"I need to learn to think before I divulge all this stuff. I'm never shaking that am I?"

"Never ever."

#joseph quinn fanfic #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn imagine #joseph quinn fluff #joseph quinn

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fictoculus · 1 year

Text

౨ৎ nothing hurts like no you...

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FEAT... venti

SYNOPSIS... you and venti have been apart too long, and have both begun to lose faith, until you come across each other at angel’s share…

WARNINGS... injury, implied losing weight, low mental health, alcohol/drinking

with a clouded mind, you wandered the streets of mondstadt, the sky mimicking you as it blanketed the town in a sheet of warm grey. mondstadt isn't exactly big, and there are only so many paths to follow until you begin to recognise the pattern of the tile beneath your feet; the identical cracks in the stones engraved in your mind as you search desperately for something to focus on and calm your racing heart.

the gentle breeze brushes softly against your cheek, almost as if the wind itself was cupping your face in it's hands, caressing your cheeks ever-so-gently as you drag your feet along the cobble. or at least that's how you would've like it to be. instead, a strong gust of wind pushes against your back, forcing you forwards not-so-gently as you reach out to steady yourself on a nearby lamppost; the storm was coming, but not just any storm.

your beloved left with his lyre to sing his melodies to the wind, leaving you alone with your thoughts in your shared home. in truth, the two of you hadn't been getting along so well recently, fights became almost routine, subsequently leading to you spending more and more time in your own company; which you can't say you enjoyed. it had gotten to the point where you don't bother to return home anymore and spend your nights hidden away in the forest, relying on razor and his wolfen friends for protection. yes, it is important to have time for yourself, but you'd rather be sat in complete silence with diluc in angel's share than spend another second alone, which is why you find your surroundings completely changing as you stumble into the tavern. the warm lights and the low murmuring of the customers provides a sharp contrast to the dark, empty streets you'd just escaped from.

in the far corner, consumed by the shadow of the staircase, sits a somewhat familiar figure, seemingly drowning their sorrows in bottles of dandelion wine. they're hunched over the table they sit at, clutching the neck of the bottle as if it was their one and only grasp on reality, which as wild as it seems, it was.

this person, venti, is overwhelmed with the many thoughts parading in his head. the thought of you stranded, alone, afraid, while he's here, drinking embarrassing amounts of alcohol to hide himself from the guilt that haunts him. there's no way he could ever let you see him like this... (ironic, i know)

"venti?"

your soft, broken voice calls out, a sudden pounding in your chest become almost too loud to bear, the beating of your heart drumming in your ears. you haven't felt like this since they day the two of you first met.

you try to look away, but your eyes are fixated on him. the way he's slouched over, the way his clothes fit loosely on his slightly slimmer figure, the dull, tired look in his eyes as they meet yours. however, that dull expression disappears almost immediately as he recognises your features, replaced by a look of pure relief.

"[name]?"

his voice is coarse from not only drinking, but also from crying. though it seems like he has been doing absolutely nothing for weeks, his mind hasn't given him a single break. your heart aches as you watch the tears fall from his cheeks, though his face stays frozen, focusing on you; it doesn't take long for your own cheeks to be dampened by your salty tears.

the two of you stay completely still, the silence only becoming louder as you both hesitate to say a single word. you take a step forward, slow and uncertain, but a step nonetheless. each step brings a new found confidence, the shaking of your hands calming as you build up the courage to apologise.

"venti... venti i'm so sor-"

a familiar warmth embraces you as venti throws his arms around you, trembling as he sobs into your shoulder.

"[name]- windblume, i- i'm so... i'm so, so s- sorry... i've missed you, i-i've missed you so, so, much... nothing hurts like no you, [name]"

his shaky breathes and sniffles break his sentence into small, digestible sections, only making the feeling of your heart shattering more intense as you wrap your own arms around him. the two of you stand there, basking in eachother's embrace, both of you sniffling and sobbing together, therefore breaking the silence. there isn't anything in the world that could pull you away from him in this moment. it's felt like an eternity since you've been able to hold your beloved the way you do now. you missed it. you missed his soft, gently touch; you missed the way his head fits perfectly in the nook of your neck; you missed the way he always rubs small circles on your back when he hugs you; you missed the feeling of his heartbeat; but most of all, you missed him, and he missed you too.

"i'm sorry venti, i- it's been so long and i- ah, careful-"

you begin to apologise, only to be cut off by a sharp inhale and a wince of pain. worried, venti immediately stops rubbing your back and pulls away from you, firmingly holding you by your shoulders and scanning your scrunched up face.

"a- are you ok? what's wrong? [nickname]... [name] are you hurt?! shit- i-"

"no, no venti, i'm f- fine"

you were in fact, not fine. while practically living in the woods, you'd been attacked by a group of hilichurls, leaving you with a large gash on your back. razor had left to gather food or you after finding out you hadn't eaten, leaving you along by your campfire, your eyes fluttering as you found yourself drifting in and out of sleep. that's when it happened. just as you'd felt yourself finally relaxing, a sharp pain in your back made you jolt, eyes widened from the shock. of course, razor had rushed back after hearing your scream, preventing any further injuries.

"show me"

"what? venti i-"

"[name], show me"

"i-"

"please"

there's no winning against his stubbornness, a lesson you've learnt many times before; the genuine look of concern on his face just makes it that much harder to resist.

"ok, ok... can we- can we just go home first? please?"

"anything for you, windblume. let's stop by the statue of the seven first, ok? then we'll stay home all day and... catch up"

"i love you, v"

"i love you, [nickname]"

thanks for reading ♡ want to read more? my requests are OPEN, so please feel free to let me know what you'd like me to write next!

#genshin #genshin oneshot #genshin imagine #genshin angst #genshin x reader #genshin x nb!reader #genshin x gn!reader #venti #venti x reader #venti x nb!reader #venti x gn!reader #venti angst #venti onshot #venti imagine #nb!reader #gn!reader #pov #fluff #.typingptera

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