#i did not expect that flash forward but i think i like that they did one
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I'm gonna start by saying that your fics are amazing! I love the way you write and I always get immersed in them. I would like to request an Osamu x reader fic, i was thinking about a childhood friends pining for a decade!au happening while working in his Onigiri shop, you might add Suna if you want,perhaps as a love triangle and misunderstandings as in Osamu thinking that the reader like Suna. As for the smut, I'll leave that to you 👀
thank you so much for supporting!! i love getting these requests and hearing from you! it really helps. not gonna lie, this one challenged me, but i think it turned out well! hope i got this right :) thanks again for the request love
warnings. lite!nsfw. minors DNI
info. hq lite!nsfw / safe consent practices / mutual pining / some angst, some hurt, but pay-off / husband material!osamu / timeskip!osamu / childhood friends to lovers / miscommunication / r.i.p suna's unrequited feelings / misunderstandings / osamu gives great hugs / osamu is a wine snob / osamu is a little shy / 2.5k words
🤍haikyuu collection. more of my hq here
more links. my ao3 / masterlist / request box is open so give me some ideas pls!
Your heart gave an all-too familiar squeeze at the sight of an old friend.
There he was, clad in a black cap, apron, and a well-fitting shirt. His face was one of slight concentration, his mouth in a straight line, jaw flexed. A strong arm lifted the black bag he carried high into the trash in the alley with ease.
"'Samu!" His nickname was like a sigh of reassurance on your tongue.
He turned, a stern face letting up as soon as he recognized you coming towards him. He quickly discarded his gloves in the trash and made forward to meet you. It ended in a hug in the middle of the sidewalk.
Business was so slow today, he really wasn't expecting any surprises- especially not any pleasant ones.
"(Y/n)." Was a mumble against your hair, charged relief on his breath. He was lifting you off of your feet and melting into you at the same time.
Your eyes stung a little when you tucked your face into his comforting shoulder. It'd been so long since graduation, but everything was coming back to you, all at once, against your will.
Maybe it was because you could still taste the onigiri you just finished, but those lunches he used to prepare for you kept cropping up. You weren't sure why it kept making you want to cry, though.
"I missed you!" You whispered, swallowing a sob.
He gave you a crushing squeeze in return. He certainly hadn't stopped working out since your high school days. There was a hesitation in letting each other go.
"God," His quick blinking made you feel better for getting emotional, "What are you doin' all the way out here?"
You sniffled and turned to Suna, briefly forgotten at the table, "I told you those fillings tasted familiar!"
There was an unmistakable shock in Osamu's eyes when you turned back to him, "We were just grabbing lunch. I had no idea 'Onigiri Miya' would actually mean you!"
He missed the natural beat to respond- instead of letting your declaration die, you kept up the attempt to rekindle things.
"Did you get a new number?" You asked, quieter, trying to catch his eye, so you leaned your head further between him and Suna.
He looked down at you with a much softer expression, "Hm?"
"I- texted you a couple months ago, I just assumed you got a- new number," You trailed.
It felt a bit forced and loser-esque to ask the reason why he hadn't texted you back. Two months was a while to get 'caught up' in something, after all.
If he didn't want to talk to you, he technically didn't owe you an explanation.
He blinked. It didn't cross his mind that you would've texted him-- his fingers fumbled for his phone in his pocket to show you a new iPhone.
"Yeah," He sighed, "Shit, I didn't think to tell anyone but 'Sumu..."
This time, he felt like the loser. He didn't have many people to text, nowadays. But he certainly didn't want you and Suna to know that.
Relief flashed across your face as you admitted in a light laugh, "Oh, thank god. I really thought you were ignoring me!"
"Let's all exchange numbers," You suggested.
You looked back to Suna and thought you saw some hostility in his eyes, "So we can all meet up sometime, when you're not working."
The process of getting each other's contacts was quiet and stilted. You thought better of making plans here and now, because there was an indescribable feeling that something was wrong.
Maybe the timing.
Osamu frowned at his phone after getting it back from Suna.
Maybe the place.
Suna gave a subtle sigh when Osamu put his number in.
Your text to Osamu that night garnered a response so quick that it made up for the months of uncertainty and pseudo-grieving. Your oldest friendship was not buried as deep in the ground as you had previously thought.
It ended in a suggestion you weren't expecting.
There was nowhere you both wanted to eat at, and no activities you could think of that would allow for the long conversations you both favored.
I could cook for us.
You knew better than to deny him the chance to cook, but it was clear to both of you that it felt a little too forward. A little too intimate for just two good friends.
That wasn't enough to keep you from agreeing immediately.
Certain that he didn't feel the same, you rationalized that you had nothing to worry about.
Dark red swirled slow, unending circles in your glass. You weren't one for red, but he brought out a vintage just for you tonight.
The perfectly plated dinner in front of you didn't last long. Osamu made it so easy to like foods you swore up and down you hated; you didn't question his choices despite your usual pickiness.
There were a number of times you had to pretend not to notice him watching you eat. He was pretty obvious, because he'd raise his spoon full of food, then let it hover mid-air, and turn his whole head to watch you chew. It was as if he was waiting for you to declare it was the worst thing you'd ever tasted.
He was still working on his -most likely cold- plate minutes after you cleaned yours off. It left you to catch up to him in glasses of wine. The bottle was nearing empty and you were still on your first.
"Do you have any roommates?" You asked, glancing around a spacious apartment.
It was so still. You'd surely die of loneliness, if you were him.
He shook his head. It made sense with his preference for solitude, but it still made you sit back and sip on your wine to keep from voicing your concern.
"It's quiet," Osamu wiped his mouth with his napkin and pushed his plate forward, "I know."
Was your discomfort that obvious?
His chuckling won out over your insistence that it wasn't that bad, and you eventually were resolved back to slouching in your chair again.
"You just need some- flowers," You motioned to the center of the table, not believing in your advice in the slightest, "Or... something like that."
"To be fair, I never sit at the table."
He poured the last of the wine into his glass. You stared down at yours. He still spoke and acted stone-cold sober. You had to wonder how much he drank, with this bleak living space.
"Not a fan of Merlot?"
This was getting a little embarrassing.
This time, you gave in, "Not feeling this one as much."
His brow raised. He had a layered expression, like he was torn between two sides of himself for a split-second.
He eased up and slid his elbows on the table, wine glass looking absurdly tiny in his hand.
You admired the gentle way he held the delicate glass, how he knew just how the weight was supposed to be distributed in the webs of his fingers.
"You drink wine much?" He had that completely immersed look on his face that was always so difficult to return.
He mistook your trouble to return his gaze as discomfort, and laughed, retracting his body from the table, "I-'m sorry--,"
"No-no it's okay-!" You put your hand on his arm and scooted your chair closer to affirm that you didn't mind his proximity -that you in fact welcomed it- and rambled, "I- don't, drink wine like that. So I- wouldn't really know what's good."
His gaze sent a shiver surging through your whole body. What an intense pair of eyes. He leaned forward on his elbows, thumb rubbing his freshly shaved cheek.
"It's an expensive hobby."
You were wracking up inappropriate questions by the second. First, the lack of love in his sad apartment, then his potential alcohol issues, now his salary.
The quiet clink of his glass on the table. A heavy, warm hand stilled yours on his arm, and he caught your troubled gaze.
"But it's just a hobby," He smiled.
The apartment filled with shared laughter. You were getting read like an open book, you couldn't help but cool your face down with the back of your hand.
"I-I promise, I'm not trying to judge," You sighed and grinned at what you noticed as his slightly tipsy giggling, "I just... care about you."
Osamu took a breath to say something, but something else flickered across across his face.
His hand was starting to slip from yours.
"So, you and Suna again?"
You laughed at what you thought was a joke. He didn't return it; instead, he let go and took another big sip from his almost empty glass.
"Oh-," You realized he was mistaken, "We're not together."
"Mm!" He swallowed and laughed, "Oh- that's good."
His focus faltered with a small cough, "I mean, not good, but-,"
"That's not something I want to go back to," You saved his embarrassing admission gracefully and looked away, only thinking about that short-lived relationship in high school.
Suna was just a distraction. A temporary filler for your unbearable emptiness. You never stopped loving Osamu, even when you had everyone else fooled. In the end, Suna just made you miss your friend more, since it sparked an unspoken drift in the process. It wasn't one of your brightest moments.
The look on his face was asking for more information. A 'So... why?' was on the tip of his tongue. You saved him the breath.
"He reached out. I was free, and I wanted to make sure we were alright after things ended like that."
Osamu nodded slowly, swirling half a sip of wine in his glass with careful consideration.
"You talk about it like you never liked him," He sighed against the rim, then shot it back in a way that made you realize why he was drinking so much.
He didn't have the courage to talk to you like this without it.
Your thumb, still resting on his forearm, rubbed thoughtfully. If he was being this candid through his actions, you didn't mind coming clean about a few things.
"I didn't," You admitted in a breathy half-laugh, "It wasn't real to me."
You shut your eyes tight and seethed, "I know that sounds so cruel--,"
"Yeah," He chuckled.
"Okay- I meant it like..." Your thumb was tapping on his raised skin, "I needed a distraction. You know I was struggling. He really was sweet. I know I should've treated him better."
It was clear that there was no hero to the story. You were all flawed, to some degree. Osamu's hand returned to yours. This time, he squeezed.
"You know I don't judge you for that."
All things considered, that break-up was still fresh. It was only briefly before your graduation date.
"Hey-," He reached up to turn your head towards him. It was a bit much and left you both warm and fidgety, "You know that I know that you're a good person."
His hand fell to your forearm.
It was fleeting, but you felt an energy between you. It was different. It filled that space in your heart you'd long since carved out for him.
Fleeting must be reiterated, because it was gone in an instant as he cleared his throat and stood, collecting the dishes in one trip with skill you could only attribute to the nature of his work.
You chugged the rest of your wine with a shudder so it wouldn't go to waste and skittered after his swift movement towards the kitchen.
If there was any place in the house that didn't feel lifeless, it was the kitchen. Spacious and clean, sure, but every tool and appliance here was cared for and used often.
It distracted you to slow down.
There was a level of respect you felt was necessary for a space so important to Osamu.
He began washing the dishes.
"Please let me do something," You begged from behind him.
All you got was a stoic head shake.
You leaned on the countertop behind him, staring at his back in that clean, black shirt. Would you ever get over him?
His words and actions from tonight turned over in your head. That hug you shared yesterday afternoon made your hands slip from the counter.
It may have been the wine that inspired your resolve to actually follow through, but your motivation did have years of pent-up desire behind it.
His body stiffened at the feeling of your arms around his waist, the side of your face pressed against his warm back. He smelled like a woody, musky cologne.
"Thank you," You muttered, mostly for his kind words, but its roots extended much farther than just recent events.
The sound of the water shutting off encouraged you to loosen your grip. The doubt started settling in as he dried his hands with a hanging towel, wordless.
His hands just barely grazed yours as you retracted, heart racing at the fact that you couldn't take that back.
He turned around to face you. Your eyes were busy avoiding his, so you were taken by surprise when he leaned down to pick you up from the waist.
It was just as easy and comfortable as the first time-- his shoulders spacious enough to bury yourself in, his hold so secure you didn't have to spare any strength holding on. He could support you all day.
A breathy groan, like he was a settling house, brushed your ear and sent tingles down your spine.
He set you down, but guided your arms to stay around his neck. You looked back and forth between his eyes, no longer unsure about his feelings.
"I missed you so much."
He was a clumsy kisser, but you didn't mind.
His hands were skilled and sure. It was more than enough to make up for his hungrier, rather than soft kisses.
One kept you steady by the back of your head, the other taking up your entire shoulder to guide you backwards against the kitchen island.
He rendered you breathless quickly- you pulled away for just a moment and he took it as a good sign to lift you up onto the countertop.
No part of you questioned this intense show of affection-- it felt like a fitting release of years-long tension and unspoken feelings.
They still remained unspoken, for the most part, but it could wait.
His hips pushed hard against your own, eliciting a soft, fluttery sound against his mouth.
He ate it up, wanting another so bad that one hand grabbed at the bend in your hip and thigh to keep you against him.
Your tummy twisted in a mixture of delightful pleasure and desire, everything below your waist all giddy and jittery as his fingers squeezed your hips with a need you never knew he was harboring.
Thighs trembling with nerves, his steady grasp pushing down helped to calm and stall you. You caught your breath with your forehead pressed against his. You unhooked your legs.
"W-hat?" You swallowed, praying to God this wasn't some mistake.
His wine-flushed face answered your question with no response.
"We shouldn't...I'm not--," He bit his cheek at his own restraint, brow tight with regret at his own actions from earlier.
You nodded, a little buzzed yourself, and laughed at his concern, "I'm okay with just kissing."
my masterlist.
requests are open!
#x reader#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x y/n#haikyuu x you#haikyuu osamu#miya osamu#miya twins#osamu miya#osamu x y/n#osamu x reader#osamu x you#suna x reader#suna rintaro x reader#suna rintarou#suna rintarō#osamu miya x reader#miya osamu x reader#miya osamu smut#miya osamu fluff#osamu x reader fluff#osamu miya fluff#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu smut#haikyuu fanfiction#haikyuu osamu miya#haikyu x reader#haikyu x you#haikyu x y/n
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Laimay Day 24: Selkie AU
I didn’t finish my drawing for this prompt, but I did write a little fic for it! (~1.6k words)
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Laios had been kicking himself all morning. How could he have been so careless as to forget his notebook on the beach the night before? He’d been half-asleep by the time he’d dragged himself off to his van, but that book was his *lifeblood*. It was more important to him than his next meal, or his parents, or his *sister*.
Well, that was a lie. Nothing was more important to him than his sister. Still, inside that notebook were all the coordinates of sightings, details on all the local legends, contact information of the park ranger, and various jokes and theories he had about the habits of different Cryptids. He couldn’t *believe* he’d been so careless with it, and Laios nearly tripped in his hurry down the rocky cliff side. The tide had come in last night, and with just his luck, it would have waterlogged the notebook if not pull it out to sea. He should have invested in waterproof paper, he *knew* he should have, but working odd jobs every other month didn’t pad his pockets as much as he’d like.
His camera thudded against his ribs and gravel scattered as he hopped down a boulder and straightened, looking around desperately. He was right in this area last night, observing the bioluminescent algae that washed ashore. Laios caught his breath as he took note of his surroundings. Ahead, the water stretched out endlessly, the waves shallower after the tide had receded. Off to the north, a herd of seals were bathing in the sun-warmed rocks. Laios leaned to look into the reeds beside the path, searching for a glimpse of the tattered yellow cover of his book, but there was nothing but some littered chip bags and a broken beer bottle.
“*Come on*,” he muttered, eyes sweeping the rocky shoreline as he walked further out to the water’s edge. The boulders were smoother and more damp, here, and his pace slowed. A few seagulls circled overhead, and to the south some were pecking away at something. A glimmer of hope flickered in his ribs as he picked up speed, jogging to where the birds huddled, but as one cawed irritably at him and took off, it revealed they were picking at nothing more than a dead fish. Laios’ stomach sank, heat draining from his face, and he swayed. *No, no.* No despair yet. Laios swallowed and looked back out at the ocean. *Think, Laios, think!* Maybe he’d dropped it on his way to the van, and it was on the trail somewhere? Maybe he’d passed it on his hurry to get back here.
Laios’ thoughts were interrupted by a dark shape breaking the waves, and he instinctively grabbed for his camera. He hadn’t turned it on yet — *stupid* — and had to take his eyes off the water to find the button with his finger. The screen lit up, and Laios quickly removed the lens cap and stowed it in his bag before lifting his head.
A brown seal was coming up the beach at an alarming pace, round body lunging forward and flippers splashing with every landing. It…seemed like it was coming right towards Laios. Angling the camera, he took one quick photo before stepping aside to keep some distance between him and the animal. Seals could be nasty, and as cool as it would be to see one up close, their sharp teeth was much less friendly than their round, adorable faces. Laios wasn’t expecting the seal to change course, rounding toward him again, and his heart skipped in fear. He started backing up, trying to keep an eye on the beast, but the rocks beneath his feet shifted unevenly. He caught a weird movement from the seal in his periphery, almost like it was going on it’s hind legs like a dog, it’s flipper moving to a shoulder — *seals can’t do that* — and when it pulled away it revealed a pale flash of bare flesh. A blonde head rose, green eyes fixed on his, Laios’ heel caught on a stone and the world spun as he crashed backwards, his shout of pain echoing when his skull banged against cold rock, but he *had to look, he needed to see*—
Laios’ vision swam, he must be hallucinating, because the seal had become a woman — a *naked* woman — scrambling up the shore with eyes wide. Laios kicked at the rock below him, trying to get back to his feet, to run, or attack, or *something*.
“Hey, you! You, human!” A voice? From the woman. Who was much closer now and *startlingly* nude, a seal’s skin folded over her arm and breasts swaying in her excitement — he quickly averted his eyes to focus on the swift movement of her arm as she shoved something into his face. “This is yours, right?!”
Laios blinked. The woman waited patiently for him to respond, but her grin lit the grey sky. A human woman from a seal. A selkie? *No way.* Laios’ head felt like seaweed in a current, trying to process what was in front of his face. The blonde, pretty!, woman was holding something white five inches from his eyes, and when he squinted he could make out his own handwriting.
“My notebook?”
“Yes, the thing you’ve been writing in this whole time.” The seal woman shuffled forward again and Laios felt his face get hot before she just sat back on her feet, flipping through the notebook with great interest. “You left it out here yesterday. You’re a writer! You’re a, a, what’s the word, a scientist?”
Laios wanted to laugh. He’d dropped out of college before he got anywhere near his degree. “Not exactly.”
“You’ve been studying us, right? You have that thing.” She pointed at his camera. “Humans always have those, but they aren’t like you. They usually take ‘pictures’ and leave, but you’ve been here two weeks.” She lifted the book and pointed at it. “Look. Not a lot of humans come here for *us*.”
It was his page on selkies. “You can read?”
She huffed. “That’s not the point!” She was right. The woman tossed the notebook at him and it hit his stomach with a wet little *plop*. “Look, the way I see it, we can help each other out. *I* l want to learn more about human technology, and *you* want to learn more about *us*, right? We can help each other out!”
Her long blonde hair was plastered to her skin, her pupils weren’t as large as Laios had hypothesized, and she didn’t seem to feel the cold air at all. Laios’ brain finally felt like it was returning to his body, checking the numbers and booting up the right programs to function. The seal’s pelt draped over her arm was fascinating, and had most of his interest, but she turned her body to tuck it behind her as a look of suspicion pursed her lips.
“Look, do we have a deal?”
Laios hummed and picked up his notebook. The pages were soaked, but the ink was still legible in most places. If he dried it out right, he might be able to salvage most of it. “Why me?” He wasn’t normally one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but curiosity got the best of him.
“You don’t seem as dumb as the other humans,” the woman said, tilting her head thoughtfully. “Your notebook was right about some things. You call them ‘Bigfoot’, but they don’t come to the ocean if they can avoid it. They don’t speak like we do, they aren’t as good at mimicking humans.”
Laios’ eyes bulged. “So you aren’t human at all? And—Bigfoot’s *real*? You’ve met him—them? Them, *multiple*? Where do they nest?! Do they have family groups like apes do? Can you introduce me to one of—“
“*Shhh!*” The woman’s forefinger pressed to his mouth, and he froze. She was smiling mischievously, like she knew something he didn’t, which he supposed she did. “Does that mean you’re going to take the deal? You help me, I help you?”
Laios nodded enthusiastically, and the woman removed her finger with a satisfied smile. “What use does a seal have for human technology, though?”
Her expression soured in suspicion and she shifted away from him again, hand going to her sealskin. “That’s not really any of your business,” she said haughtily. Now that it appeared he wasn’t going to run she seemed to relax more, pulling her hair over her shoulder and starting to comb her fingers through it. “I’m not usually so careless, but when I saw you had come back to the shore I knew I had to hurry before you left again. My name’s Marcille, by the way.”
“Laios,” he responded, and it was hard to know where to look at her. She wasn’t human, according to her, but she still *looked* like any woman off the street at first glance. How did the evolution of selkies that passed as human compare to the evolution of humans themselves? Did selkies come first? Did that pelt of hers look just like a normal skin, or was it visibly magical in some way? Laios sat up, but Marcille froze and she scowled at him, so he raised his hands in supplication. “Can I look at your skin?” When he tentatively reached for it she smacked his arm away.
“Rude! Don’t you know to work your way up to those sorts of questions?!” Her eyes sparked with anger, and Laios rubbed star-struck at his arm where it stung.
“I can do that,” he grinned. He wrote all his questions in his notebook, but he wouldn’t even need it at this point. Were selkies obligate carnivores, or omnivores? Did it depend on what form they were in? “Why don’t we start with dinner? That’s a common way for humans to get to know each other.” He offered a hand out to her, and after a moment of consideration she smiled and took it.
“Sounds good. Great to meet you, Laios.”
#Dungeon meshi#delicious in dungeon#dunmesh#laios touden#marcille donato#selkies#laimay 2024#laimay#laimar#laicille#larcille#laios x marcille#marcille x laios#laios/marcille#Marcille/laios#My writing
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Ong your Alastor showing you off to Vox one was so😍😍🤤🤤
Can you make do an enemies to lovers? Like how maybe Alastor’s been possessive of you and he hates how much he likes you, and one day your dressed in something scandalous (maybe Angel helps pick it out) and Alastor can’t take it anymore. Much degradation on the side pleeeeeease🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻
a/n: degradation is my specialty 🩷 requests open!
tags: 18+ smut nsfw, slight coercion, degradation, choking
words: 1k~
ever since alastor met you, he struggled to understand you. rather, he struggled to understand what you did to him. you wore down the walls he so carefully built and did it effortlessly and it drove him mad. your smile, your voice, the genuine care you showed for him and everyone in the hotel.
you took up his every thought and he hated it. he hated that he couldn't stay away either. he just couldn't trust anyone else to protect you. he wants you more than he'd ever admit, and while everyone told him that you felt something for him, he chose to ignore it. but when he sees what you've decided to wear tonight, he nearly has a heart attack.
"what on earth are you wearing?" alastor speaks, cocking a brow when he sees you walking out of the hotel with angel. you smile shyly, out of your element in the flashy and revealing outfit angel styled you in. "oh this? yeah, i know." you laugh, covering your chest with your arms. it does nothing but push your tits further together, threatening to bust out of the barely there top.
"its a little much, don't you think?" alastor's eye twitches as he tries to suppress his anger. how dare angel dress you like this! "you don't like it." you frown, looking down at your outfit. he sighs, rubbing his temple. "it's not that..." he speaks before shooting a look at angel that would have burnt him to a crisp if possible. "i uhh.. i'll let you two talk." angel quickly scurries away, blowing you a kiss as he does so.
alastor's blood was boiling at this point. "do you understand the attention wearing this would earn you? is that what you want?" he's tugging you into the shadows with him before you're brought to his broadcast tower. "alastor what is going on?" your frown deepens when he bumps into his desk.
his final straw is watching you bend down to pick up the papers that fell, your entire ass on display as your skirt falls forward. he's behind you in a flash, one hand pressing your face into the wood of his desk while the other pins your arm behind you. all you can do is gasp for air and wiggle under his grasp but its no use. "now deary, you must be doing this on purpose." he growls, trying his best not to be too rough but he's having a hard time holding back. "a-al don't-" "keep your mouth shut." his harsh words make you shudder. "if you so desire to dress like a whore, you'll be treated like a whore."
alastor releases your arm, causing your eyes to widen when you figure out what he's doing instead of holding you. his clawed finger tears straight through your panties in a single stroke, exposing your pussy to him. "w-wait alastor, it's not what you think." you gasp out, but he's already sliding a finger through your folds. "what's that? are you saying that your cunt isn't basically begging to be used right now , hm? that you don't want to be fucked over my desk right now? because that's what that outfit was telling me. and now your pussy is telling me the same thing, darling."
he's slowly pumping a finger in and out of your now soaking cunt, the sound of your wetness filling the otherwise quiet room. "you'd let me, wouldn't you?" the second finger has you moaning into his desk, and against your better judgement, you nod your head as much as you can while being held down. "yes, i-i wanted you to see me." your eyes sting with tears as embarrassment fills you. god yes, you wanted alastor to see you in such a skimpy outfit. but you didn't expect him to lose it on you like this.
and still, every harsh word has you dripping and approaching orgasm faster than you could have expected. "now there's a good girl." alastor coos, a sense of pride filling him, rather, filling his aching cock. he hopes to never forget the sight in front of him, the way your skirt still hangs around your hips, your panties torn in two just enough that he can see your pretty pink pussy peaking between the slit he ripped.
"all you had to do is be honest, you didn't have to have angel dress you like a little sex doll just to get my attention. you shouldn't dare dress like that for anyone but me, do you hear that, sweetheart? i don't want to have to leash you as well, but i have no issue doing so if you can't behave." he ends his sentence by finally pushing his cock passed your puffy lips.
your eyes roll into the back of your head, fire scorching through your body as alastor plows his cock in and out of you. "a-al fuck, too big." you whine, bracing your hands on the desk with every thrust. alastor snickers behind you, only pulling out to flip your body around. being able to look up at him only makes this worse. the sinister smile on his face, his hooded, dark eyes. his clawed hand wraps around your neck, squeezing just enough to make you gasp for air. "don't you worry your pretty little head about that, darling. you can take it." he grunts when you clench around him.
alastor's pulling out just in time to paint your thighs and stomach with thick ropes of his seed. you whimper as you feel it splashing on your skin, covering you and your clothes. you feel dirty and used, and my god do you want this to happen again. alastor catches his breath before planting a kiss to your forehead.
"are you going to cum already? with my hand around your throat?" he would laugh, but it's possibly the hottest he's ever seen you. your eyes glassed over with tears, you nod. "'m s-so close, al." you pant, barely making the words out before waves of pleasure crash into you and you're cumming hard on his cock. your vision goes black, choked moans escaping as alastor fucks your sensitive pussy.
"the next time i catch you wearing something like that, i won't hesitate to make an example out of you." his words lack the same bite from earlier, but you still shudder at his implications. he turns to grab something to clean you up with but stops dead in his tracks when you speak.
"y-yes sir..." you whisper.
#hazbin hotel#alastor x reader#alastor x reader smut#alastor smut#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin alastor smut#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel smut#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor x you#alastor x you smut#hazbin hotel imagines#alastor hazbin hotel#alastor hazbin hotel smut#hazbin alastor x reader#alastor imagines
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how am I supposed to live on after buddy daddies' epilogue
#crying sobbing screaming wailing rn#buddy daddies spoilers#i don't know yet what to think of the ending#can someone force kazuki to go see a hairdresser please#also i'm sorry but rei's incompetence to cook anything other than french toast is not cute#at least they're happy for ever i can die in peace#i did not expect that flash forward but i think i like that they did one#even if it wasn't entirely satisfying#also i was not impressed by the no-homo line you know the one#it was unnecessary come on#but they're all still alive ten years later how wholesome is that 😭😭#they're a familyyyyyy#they can live a normal liiiife#i'm gonna miss them#ramble#my post
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strawberry bliss (nsfw)
the part 2 to strawberry sweet ❤️
summary: miguel loves using his strength on you ;)) and this little snippet of you guys watching a replay of his recent game shows just that, with some sweet lil fluff and playful banter :)) and then miguel fucks u so good he hits your factory reset and you go back to being a lil shy babie around him oh no :3
tw: he also finds out you have a daddy kink, mention of shane dawson (derogatory), mention of physical violence (bros a wrestler what did you expect), overstimulation, a bit of breeding kink, heavy praise kink, a bit of humiliation but on the sweet side
A/N: this takes place about a year or so after strawberry sweet, where miguel and reader are in an established relationship and make quippy cute banter with each other
A/N # 2: pls reblog so we can turn more ppl into whores 💖
💕 hope you enjoy!
===
"BABYY THE COMMERCIALS ARE OVER!"
Miguel runs from the bathroom and meets you in the kitchen, you with the tray of strawberry drinks squealing as he tickles your waist.
"AHH IT'S GONNA SPILL!!!" you scream, and he backs off, smiling as you regain your balance.
You balance the smoothie cups on the tray and move forward, but Miguel blocks your way.
"M'scuse me, I have a game to watch," you pout up at him, but he doesn't budge.
"Mister, my boyfriend will be very angry if he finds out I'm late to the game >:( "
"Aww, such a shame, pretty girl... can't I just get a little kiss?"
"Let me through!"
"Can't, hermosa, you gotta say the password right up against my lips~ the password is mwah mwah mwah i love you miguel you're so handsome miguel~"
"You're cheesy," you roll your eyes, and he laughs as you set the tray down in front of the bed facing the TV. "I want the old Miguel back, he was cute and he had actual rizz."
He slumps against the couch. "The Miguel that was a total pervert over your old smoothie girl uniform?"
"Oh my gosh, I totally forgot about the uniform!" You giggle. "I hated it. Did you know on my first day they gave me a size too small and they had the audacity to try and gaslight me by saying I got fat?"
"Fucking weirdos," he pulled you into his arms, your back against his chest." Glad I got you out of that mess, mm?"
"It was just one mess into another, Mig, you made me your sugar baby," you tease, and his face scrunches up.
"Bebita, I may be rich but I'm not your sugar daddy. I'm just two years older than you."
"But think about it, I was sixteen when you were eighteen! Like- that's two years but the maturity difference is huge! That's creepy, Miguel. You wanna go to jail?"
"Ay, por dios. We're in our twenties, we met in our twenties. End of discussion. And I've already been to jail. Twice."
"What?!"
"Ay! ay! end of discussion. The match is starting," he pinches your nose then turns to watch the TV just as the host's opening spiel ends. Miguel feels you sit up in his grip when the crowds on the TV cheer as he comes up on screen, flashing a grin to the audience.
"Ew, who's that?" you mumble, cheeks stuffed with popcorn and Miguel snorts, rolling his eyes.
"That's me, your boyfriend, the guy who's gonna absolutely obliterate downgraded Shane Dawson in about..." he snaps his fingers just as his opponent comes out on screen. "Fifty-eight seconds."
"I really don't see the resemblance, Miggy, you're just being a bully."
"Y'know," he pulls you closer, absentmindedly kissing your neck as he feels you squirm in his hold. "I don't get how you let the physical violence slide but I compare some white guy to Shane Dawson and you call me a bully."
Your face heats up a little, and you turn away, mumbling shyly. "C-cause you look really badass when you throw them around like that... "
"Mmm?" he teases, nuzzling his nose in your neck. "I do?"
He feels you freeze up and chuckles, his hands trailing down to your thighs.
"Y-yeah," you whisper... "a bit..."
"Oh, and you like how strong I am, hmm? Is that what it is?"
It's cute how you shake your head and brush his hands away to turn up the volume on the TV, when he just goes right back to kneading your breasts and riling you up.
"Querida, you gotta answer me, y'know I can't understand you when you mumble like that~"
"What was the question?" you mumble, looking up at him with what he knows for sure are the most adorable bunny eyes he's ever fucking seen.
"I said," he nibbles down on your ear with a little growl, "do you get off like a cute little bunny when I show off? Is my baby that kinky~?"
" I-I... maybe..." you twitch as his fingers toy with your nipples. "Miggy, please..."
"Please what baby? Please stop or please give me more?"
Miguel knows the answer, obviously. It's just that he can't get over the fact that he landed the prettiest girl with the cutest stutter when she's nervous.
"Please..." you whisper.
He chuckles against your ear, leaning in and lowering his voice just the way he knows you like it, especially when he's buried all the way inside you.
"Please what."
The tiniest gasp comes out of your lips. "Please... please f-fuck me... please?"
Before you can even finish, you're over his shoulder and on the bed as he kisses everywhere on your face, growling at the inconvenience of the fact that he cant hold you still and fondle your chest at the same time.
"M-Miguel..." you whimper, twitching in sensitivity. "You're always teasing me..."
"Oh?" he mocks you, flipping you over on your stomach and gripping your hips, leaning in real slow to drawl darkly in your ear. "I'm the tease here? When you're shaking your little ass all over me? You rile me up like this and expect me not to fuck you the way you deserve? hmm?"
"S-Sorry..." you mumble, and Miguel laughs breathily, having the time of his life making you all shy and embarrassed.
"S'okay, baby, you just gotta make up for it, yeah?"
With a playful swat to your ass, he rips off your shorts and his fingers tease your folds through your panties.
"Miguel..."
"Yes...?" he kisses the arch in your back, smirking when your thighs tremble.
"Please hurry..." you gasp.
"Don't worry baby, you'll be asking me to slow down real soon~"
===
His favorite sight of all time is you underneath him, with that blissed out look on your face and your chest heaving as he fucks every choked breath out of those pretty lips.
"Fuck, bebita," he whispers. "Creaming all over my fingers like the cute little plaything you are?"
You whimper, closing your thighs shakily, but his free hand just forces your legs apart and he curls his two fingers in you, tickling your pussy and making his hand even wetter.
"Hmm? What did you say?" Miguel mumbles close to your ear, and makes sure that at the precise moment you try to speak he speeds up his fingers, making your words melt away in warm red pleasure as more juices coat his fingers.
"S'too much..."
"Bebita, you asked for this," he whispers darkly. "We're not even halfway done."
You mewl out his name and turn your head to the side. He takes it as an opportunity to bite down on your neck and relish in the high-pitched pleasure drunk squeal that forces out of you as your little pussy sucks in his fingers.
"Shit. I can't take it anymore," he grumbles, his fingers moving even faster as he leans closer, forcing you flat against the bedsheets as you moan and cream all over his fingers like a cute little bunny, just too pleasure-drunk to utter even a word.
"Come for me baby," Miguel almost begs. "Come for me so I can fuck you the way I know you want me too, okay?"
You gasp at his dirty talk, and he laughs at the fact that you never stop getting shy when he says these things.
Or when your little pussy makes those wet noises when you're really really close.
"Fuck you're so cute," Miguel grins, licking the tears falling from your hazy eyes. "So sweet, letting me do whatever I want with you~ Come for me, gatita, you know you want to~"
Your moans make him grin and he thumbs at your sensitive little bud. His teasing sends you over the edge and you gasp and whimper, clinging onto him as he helps you through your third orgasm.
When you come down from it, Miguel is smirking down at you, and licking his fingers clean of your juices, humming lowly as his tongue traces his long fingers sensually.
"Wanna taste it right off your pretty pussy baby," he whispers, making you blush. "But I'll save that for later~"
He really means he'll save it for when you're too fucked out to close your pretty legs around his head.
Miguel kisses your hips as he flips you over again, tracing his rough hands over your ass and thighs, making you shiver and mumble something he almost can't hear.
"Daddy..."
His wandering hands freeze.
He grins.
"What was that?" he teases.
Your breath stutters.
"What- I-"
He leans in dangerously close, pinning you down on the bed with your ass right against his throbbing hard cock.
"What did you just call me?" he drawls, and you whimper.
"I-I called you Daddy," you bury your head in the pillows. "S-Sorry... if it makes you uncomfortable-"
Miguel thrusts his hips forward, sinking halfway into your wet, warm little cunt. The squelching of your little hole is nothing compared to the pure, unadulterated, sinful noise of pleasure that leaves your lips.
"Oh," Miguel groans. "That made me reallyfuckin' uncomfortable alright."
Your thighs shake as he sinks in really really slowly, making sure you feel every inch of him stretch you out.
"Say it again."
You gasp, tears forming in your eyes. "It's embarrassing..."
"Fuck, you really have to do all these things that make you so lovable, huh?" He groans, pulling your wrists and holding your arms behind your back. "Got the cutest little face, the cutest little pussy, and you always got these little kinks that make you so cute~"
He starts moving his hips, making you slur out his name and clench around him.
"My cute little milkshake girl, doing all these cute things for me and no one else," he whispers, and you nod helplessly,
Miguel runs his hands up and down your waist, making you sigh and whimper into the pillows.
"Wanna repeat what you said? No one's around, baby, just you and me. No need to be shy~"
"Daddy..."
"Fuck, you really are such the perfect little cutie, aren't you?" Miguel teases, pounding you harder.
It's music to his ears when you finally get to that stage of it, just uncontrollably whimpering and moaning and making all these noises of pleasure as you let him do whatever he wants to you.
"C'mon, say it again, another time won't hurt~"
"Such a t-tease..." you whine, and he chuckles fondly, pressing a kiss to your sensitive neck.
"Sorry, baby, not my fault you're so fucking adorable," he groans, shuddering when you clench down on him. "Daddy's close, baby, wanna come with me? Feel good together, hmm? Can you even understand me you dumb little baby?"
Miguel coos as you take in high-pitched breaths and gasps. Your tiny fists clench the sheets shakily, and your thighs thump helplessly with every thrust of his hips.
"Come back to me, baby," he whispers as his thrusts get sloppier. "Help me out one list time, kay? Wanna be my good girl?"
"Mhm..."
"Ah," he laughs. "Daddy broke his pretty baby so bad? Sorry, gatita, you just feel too good. Let's come together, okay? I'll get us there, baby~"
You whimper loudly one last time, creaming helplessly around his cock. Miguel pins your back down onto the bed, leaning in and growling right against your ear as his orgasm takes over as well, making sure you take every bit of his cum inside you.
The twitching of your thighs finally slows as Miguel pulls out, turning you onto your back and lightly running his hands up your thighs, waist, and breasts, kneading them softly and eliciting a whine from your lips.
"So sensitive," he pinches your nipple, making you gasp. "But I'll keep my hands to myself... for now."
You blush at those words, nuzzling into his neck as he chuckles at your bashfulness.
"Didn't know my good little girl had a Daddy kink. So cute," he whispers. "Got the sweetest little baby all to myself~."
Miguel brushes his lips against yours, smiling when he tastes a hint of strawberry,
His second favorite sweet thing in the goddamn world.
"Oh, baby~" he coos. "You felt so fucking good. Can we go again, gatita?"
You whimper, twitching helplessly, and blushing at the feeling of his fingers toying with the cum trickling down your thighs.
But you don't say no.
#atsv miguel#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o’hara smut#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel spiderverse#miguel spiderman#miguel x reader#spiderman 2099#clndstnlki's strawberry sweet saga
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JJK Men: FWB? No, I wanna be your boyfriend!
Summary: Your Friends with Beneifit's partner realizes they want to be more!
Characters: Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru, Toji Fushiguro, FAB!Reader
Word Count: 3,957
Warnings: FWB, smut, oral sex, fluffy feelings, public sex
A/N: Ah, FWB, but more. Delicious smut; the brainworms were good to me! 🤣❤️
Nanami Kento:
Nanami pouted, his eyes focused on your back as some guy flirted with you. He hated seeing other people looking at his best friend like you were just a snack. It made him sick to his stomach. No one would treat you better than him. But you two agreed: friends with benefits, nothing more than that. All because Nanami thought it would help with not ruining your friendship.
And it did. Things were never awkward. You both had sex, got off, and it was perfect! No more creepy Tinder dates for you; Nanami wasn't stressed out as much. Plus, he got to remain friends with you. The arrangement was without flaw. Expect moments like this.
When he saw other people watching you, how you flirted back with the smile that had him raging, he wanted the source of your smile. Usually, when this sort of thing happened, he turned away, but something about this guy had him on edge. He was looking at you like you were a piece of meat, something to take home and fuck. You didn't deserve that. You deserve the best.
“Ooh, they fuckin.” Nanami flushed deep red as he turned to glare at Gojo, who was whispering to Geto.
“Satoru, please, it's rude to assume that,” Geto whispered back, eyeing Nanami. It was when the dark-haired man saw the flush on Nanami’s face and neck that he gaped. “Oh my god, they are fuckin’.”
“Shut up, we're just friends with benefits.”
“Oooh, Suguru, do you want to tell him?”
“Mmm nah, you go ahead, Satoru.”
Gojo leaned forward, smirking at Nanami. “Friends with Benefits don't glare daggers at strangers their FWB is talking to. Not unless they want more~.” With flushed cheeks, Nanako got up, downing the last of his drink. “Ooh, what are you going to do?!”
“Fuck you.”
“Eeeh, sorry buddy, that's Suguru’s job!”
“Satoru.” Geto purred with a smirk.
Nanami could care less about who was fucking who in their relationship. The only person he was concerned with fuckin was you. But not in the way he usually would, no, not anymore.
He stormed towards you, grabbing your wrist gently. The sudden contact had you jumping as Nanami pulled you up. He didn't say a word as he dragged you away from the asshole hitting on you. You were too stunned to speak as Nanami pulled you into the bathroom, taking you to the back stall.
Standing in the corner, you gawked as he locked the stall door. “Okay, what the actual fuck Nanami?” You were slightly annoyed, tapping your shoe against the dirty tile floor. “I was enjoying my conversation with that guy!”
“The guy that looked at you like you were a piece of ass?”
His straightforward response caught you off guard. “Huh?”
“That guy would take you home, fuck you, and never call you back because that’s the type of guy he looks like!”
“Oh? And since when do you concern yourself with my dating life? We're friends, Nanami! You're not my boyfriend!”
“Oh, I'm much more than just a friend!” Nanami crowded you, slamming both hands on the wall on either side of your head. “I’m your best friend! I'm your colleague! I’m your lover!”
His anger left the two of you stunned; your heart was racing as he inched closer to you. “You set up our arrangement. You said this was for the best; we wouldn't ruin our friendship if we kept it casual. You said that!” Nanami watched your cheeks burn, your eyes avoiding his at all costs.
“You're right. This was my arrangement. And I don't think I can do it anymore.”
That caught your attention, Y/E/C eyes finding his honey-brown ones in a flash. “What?! No, why?!” Nanami’s large hand cupped your face.
“Because I find myself wanting more. I want you, Y/N, I want all of you.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
The confession, the anger, all of that collided together in a heated kiss. You both made quick work; you unbuckled his belt, and he slid your dress up past your hips, moving your panties to the side. When you were in a moment like this, you moved in sync. There were no fumbling or awkward movements. Just perfect flowing movements, much like dancers or ice skaters who had been perfecting their art for decades. That was the perfect way to describe how you and Nanami moved together.
Your back was against the cold stall, legs wrapped around Nanami’s hips as he fucked you. His cock slid in and out of you like it had done hundreds of times before, finding a rhythm he knew the two of you enjoyed. That was one of the many joys of fucking your best friend. Everything was easy and comfortable.
“Nanami, fuck your cock is so big.”
”Yeah? Your pussy is tight; it’s like they were made for each other.”
You couldn’t help but giggle, moaning in surprise as his hips snapped forward. “It’s like a puzzle.” Your words were meant to be a joke, based on what he said. But they meant the world to Nanami.
”Yes, you’re right.” His lips found yours, nipping at your lips. “That’s exactly what you are to me, Y/N.” His hips moved harder, the stall creaking under the force as you yelped out in pained pleasure. The tip of his cock hitting your cervix with each powerful thrust.
”W-What am I to you?” Nanami mewled as your fingers ran through his hair before rubbing against his undercut. “Tell me.” Your voice was caught in a moan as one of his hands reached down, rubbing your clit. “N-Nana, fuck, fuck yes.”
”You’re my other half, my missing piece.” He growled against your skin, his hot tongue licking at your pulse. “You’re my favorite person.” He chuckled, teeth grazing your skin. “And I want to be with you.”
You were hearing the words you had been wanting to hear for years sent you into orgasmic bliss. You screamed, pussy clamping down on Nanami, milking him as he grunted against your skin. His hips slammed against you, his hot cum filling you to the brim until his cock had gone soft. He kept you pinned against the stall, breathing heavily against your flushed skin before he felt your hands lazily play with his hair again.
When he pulled back to meet your gaze, he swore his heart skipped a beat. You were smiling so softly, with an expression he’d never seen. A mixture of satisfaction and happiness. It had butterflies, butterflies of all things swarming around the pit of his stomach. He can’t stop leaning in, kissing you the softest he’s ever kissed.
”So,” you whispered against his lips, “does this mean you’ll finally stay the night with me?”
Nanami shakes his head with a chuckle as the two of you readjust your clothes and straighten your hair. “I’ll do you one better. I’ll stay the night, and then I’ll take you on a proper date tomorrow.” He gently takes your hand, his thumb brushing against your knuckles. “How does that sound, Y/N?” You didn’t even need to respond for Nanami to know your answer. The wide grin and sparkle in the blue lights of the bathroom said it all.
”Sounds like a dream come true!”
Geto Suguru:
You looked at the clock with a groan, digging through your closet. You were going to be late for your date Shoko had set up. Your stupid cardigan had gone missing again. It was the only one you had, seeing as the other was on your desk chair at work. You couldn’t just go out in the early spring evening without a sweater! It was too hot for long sleeves and hoodies.
Lucky for you, Geto Suguru, your roommate's best friend, and your FWB had a sweater. One he was not currently using. You hurried out of your room, searching for the dark-haired man. He was in the living room, looking through the books, when he heard your heels clicking over the floor.
”Hey, do you still have that book I let you borr-“ Suguru choked on his words when he turned to look down at you. You were in a tight black lace bra, a push-up one that made your breasts look plumper than usual. The matching thong barely covered your pussy, leaving little to the imagination. “What the hell are you doing?!” Suguru barked out, head whirling for any peering eyes that might not be his own.
”Relax, Satoru has seen me naked before.” Seeing Suguru’s eyebrows ccock up, you shook your head. “Chill out. I forgot to lock the bathroom door. I haven't slept with him.” Your eyes did a glance over the living room, pouting when you couldn’t find your sweater still. “Could I borrow your sweater? I can’t find mine, and I would rather not freeze tonight.”
Relieved to know Satoru had only seen you naked by accident, Suguru shrugged out of his black sweater, promptly handing it to you. “Where are you going? Book club, drinks with the girls?” You answered with a shake of your head, heading back to the bedroom.
”Nope, I got a date.”
Before you could take another step, Suguru held your wrist. You turned your head, looking at him from over your shoulder. His dark eyes were wide, gaze locked on yours. It was shocking to see him so stunned. He was usually calm and collected.
You turned around, looking him over, trying to pinpoint the source of his shock. While your Y/E/C eyes searched over him, his hands ran up your arms, gently holding you. This was a side of him you never saw, so gentle and unsure.
“Date? What do you mean you have a date?”
“Oh, yeah, Shoko set it up for me.” Suguru clenched his teeth, his eyes now roamed over your body. He was taking in the curves and dips of your skin. Every part he had caressed and kissed. “She said it was time for me to get back on the playing field.”
Shaking his head, Suguru gently ran his hands up to your shoulders. “Why? You have me. Don't I satisfy your needs?” You laughed, cocking an eyebrow up at him. “Why are you looking at me like that, Y/N? I'm being serious!” His frustration only made you giggle more as you shook your head in disbelief.
“Suguru, you told me that you didn't want a relationship. That what we had was just sex. Someone we could turn to when we were horny, no strings attached.”
“I know I said that.”
“Then why are you being so weird about me going out on a date?”
Yeah, why was the thought of you going out with someone else making his stomach do cartwheels? You both agreed to hook up whenever you wanted. But just because you fucked, didn't mean you were his girlfriend. He had specified that part himself.
The no-strings-attached policy was just something he had said in the spur of the moment. He had so many thoughts running through his mind as the two of you made out. Would Satoru be mad at him for sleeping with his roommate? Would it make things awkward for the two of you when he came over? In the heat of the moment, three months ago, that was the most reasonable thing he thought to say.
”Because I want to be the only person you date.” His words were confident and to the point. Not leaving any thoughts of doubt behind.
You were still left staring at him in utter confusion. “But you said no strings attached!?” Your brain was beginning to hurt with the back-and-forth banter.
“Ugh!” He released you, throwing his head back. “I know I said that and trust me, I wish I could take back that singular sentence. I was thinking about all the ifs and ands when I should have been focusing on the cold, hard truth.” He began pacing, his eyes glued to the floor as he continued to rant. “The truth is, I like you. I’ve liked you for the last year, but I didn’t want to make you feel weird or have Satoru pissed off that I slept with you.”
“Suguru.”
“But sleeping with you made me like you even more! I just fuck; I regret saying that because I don’t want to be friends with benefits anymore. I want to be the one taking you out on dates! I want to be the only guy in your bed and vice versa. After we hooked up, I deleted all the dating apps, and I just.” He huffed out a sigh, turning to look at you. “I want you.”
Fuck, he shouldn’t have ranted like that. But what else could he have done? He had to get it off his chest before you went on your date. At least let you know how he felt before you went out with someone else. The ball was in your court now. That might be the most terrifying part of this whole mess he found himself in.
His dark eyes were glued to the floor as he listened to your heels clicking as you stood before him. Bracing himself for rejection or anything else, Suguru looked up, meeting your flushed face and a wide smile. Seeing you like that had him stepping forward, closing the distance between you.
”You deleted all of your dating apps after the first time we hooked up?” He nodded his head. “In the last three months, you haven’t been with anyone but me?’ Another nod. “You want to be with me?”
”Yes! I want that more than anything.”
You threw your arms around him, kissing him deeply as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling tight against him. Your kiss held as much truth as his words had. It was feverish, deep, and full of passion. You were conveying the truth of your feelings for him without using words.
By the time you managed to pull yourself away, both of you were panting heavily. “Let me cancel this date, then maybe we could go out.” You breathed out between gasps. “I’m happy to have a boyfriend now, but I was sort of looking forward to getting eaten out tonight.” As your message went through, Suguru had you in his arms, tossing your phone on the couch.
Suguru had your back pinned against the wall, legs over his shoulders, as his hands held your ass. You gripped the wall as best as you could, heart racing from being so high off the ground as Suguru licked and sucked at your clit through your lace panties. He lapped and sucked at you like a man dying of thirst. His feral actions had you grabbing his smooth, dark hair, pulling it as you rocked against his face.
Suguru hummed, glancing at you before prodding your dripping entrance with his tongue. As he did, his heart almost stopped. His tongue had slid through a tiny opening in the center, meeting your dripping cunt. Eyes shot to your face, seeing the smirk tugging at your kiss-swollen lips.
“Never heard of crotchless panties, Sugu?”
There was no snarky remark or comeback. Just his tongue burying itself deep inside of you. You cried out, eyes shutting tight as he brushed his nose over your clit, shaking his head back and forth. You felt dizzy as his tongue swirled inside of you, lapping and rubbing against your inner walls.
Suguru was so skilled at using his mouth. His tongue mapped out every part of your pussy and entrance. The man loved to eat you out and make you feel so good. If his girlfriend wanted to get her pussy eaten, by god, she would. He'd make sure you’d never be left unsatisfied. If it took hours to make you cum on his tongue, then he'd take those hours, not stopping until you came, coating his face with your essence.
He was so worked up, just thinking about eating you out, making you feel good, that he groaned as you tugged hard on his hair. Little moans of ‘Suguru’ and ‘im cumming’ was all he could register before you were squirting all over his face. He shut his eyes as your juices coated his lips, tongue, and chin. His tongue kept moving until you were begging him to stop.
“Was that to your liking?” He asked gently, lowering you to the ground. “Satisfied? Or do you n-nngh!” His words were caught in his throat, eyes darting down to where you had his cock in a vice grip.
“Shut the fuck up and come fuck your girlfriend into the mattress.” Suguru didn't need you to tell him twice, especially when you called yourself his girlfriend.
Toji Fushiguro:
“This is me.” You nervously laughed as your creepy Tinder date eyed the building you didn't live in. “Thanks for the date, it was fun.” Yeah, it was a lot of fun getting felt up and paying for the dinner he told you he would buy, but he just so happened to forget his wallet.
“You don't want to invite me up?” the creepy guy asked as you hit the buzzer three times. “I thought you might want some dessert. I have a great cream filling for you to try.”
“No, I'm good.”
“Don't be a bitch; come on, let me in.”
“I said I’m good!”
“Stupid fuc—”
The door to the apartment complex swung open, and a firm hand grabbed you, pulling you inside. “She said no, go fuck yourself.” without another word, the door slammed shut. “Fuck, you sure know how to pick them.” you pressed your face into your FWB’s chest, his hand rubbing your back soothingly.
“Holy fuck, that was super scary thanks Toji.” Your hands gripped his shirt, holding yourself upright as he sighed.
“Why do you put yourself through this?” Toji asked, leading you to the elevator. “Honestly, you should know better than to go out with creeps like that one.”
You rolled your eyes, stepping onto the elevator with him. “I just want to find my person.” Those words had Toji glaring down at you. “Not all of us can be satisfied with random hookups with friends.” The elevator opened on the third floor, and you stepped out.
“Random hookups?” His tone was dry. “You think that's what this is between us?”
“You're really to look at me and tell me they aren't?” He grabbed your attention arm, glaring down at you. “This is just to blow off steam, right?”
You and Toji had slept together on multiple occasions. After a long week of work, a bad day when you were feeling down. He was always the one you went to when you needed to vent, have a good laugh, or have sex. Toji was your friend, and you loved him, but he didn't love you the same way. He was a single dad, taking care of his son Megumi. He didn't have time to date and all that other stuff. Once in a while, a good fuck with you was enough to fulfill his needs.
So when your best friend dragged you into his apartment and slammed the door behind him, you swallowed the lump forming in your throat. His eyes were dark and narrow with frustration and anger. A look you rarely saw directed towards you. You felt so small under his gaze it had you stepping back., the back of your knees hitting the couch.
“Do you honestly think I would hook up with you to blow off steam? You’re the same woman I have over for dinner, the woman I sleep with, the only other person I trust with Megumi!” His anger was palpable as you crawled onto the couch, your eyes never leaving his as he followed you. “I didn't put a label on this,” his hand motioned between you, “you did!”
“So what are you saying?!”
“I'm saying you're the only one going on stupid dates! I'm not! If you want more, say it! You're a grown-ass adult. You can do what you want, Y/N! And so can I!” He crawled on top of you. “So, for once in your life, can you please be honest?!”
You felt your nose and eyes burning with tears. Was he saying what you thought he was? That he wanted to be more, but you were holding back? Had you been the one keeping the FWB label on your relationship?
The longer you stare into his dark eyes, the more your face softens. Toji was always the one you ran to after a stupid Tinder date. He was the only person you slept with, the only man you wanted to be with, and Megumi, god, you lived that kid like he was your son. You couldn't find your person through random people because you already found him.
Your person was Toji.
Your hands gently reached up, cupping his face. “You want me?” Your voice was shaky and hesitant, scared to hear his answer.
“Of fuckin’ course I want you, Y/N.” he turned towards your hand, kissing your palm. “You idiot, it took you that long to see it?”
“You could have said something.” Your teasing tone was cut off by his hands working on your leggings. “Toji, wait, what are you doing? Megumi’s in the other room.”
Toji didn't respond to you; he just tugged his sweats down, tucking the band of them under his balls. “I’m not good with words. So I’ll show you how much I want you.” He rubbed his cock up and down over your folds before slowly pressing into you.
Soft moans and whines escaped you both as Toji slowly began to fuck you inside the couch. His hand grabbed at your hips, breasts, and thighs. Touching you everywhere he could as his cock pressed in and out of you, fucking you deeper and harder with each thrust of his hips. Toji pressed hot kisses against your lips. Each kiss, touch, and thrust told you everything you needed to know.
“I love you.” You cried out without thinking as he pressed into your g-spot. The sudden outburst had Toji freezing above you, hips pausing mid-thrust. Sweat slowly dripped down his temple as his mind replayed your words.
“What was that?”
“I said I love you.”
Toji’s eyes widened in surprise as he felt something unlock inside him. Whether it was his heart or sick throbbed inside of you, he couldn't tell. “Fuck,” he whispered, eyes drifting down your body. “Fuck.” Toji pulled all the way out before slamming hard into you. “Fuck!!” He growled, slamming into you harder and deeper with each thrust. “Love you too, fuck, I love you.”
Your eyes rolled back as you felt yourself drawing closer and closer to your orgasm. Toji reached over you, grabbing the arm of the couch for support as he drilled into you. Holy fuck, this was intense, so fucking intense. Your moans grew louder before he clamped his other hand over your mouth.
“As much as I love you screaming my name, I would rather not have my kid catching us. So be a good girl and cum.” His raspy command and slamming into your g-spot was all you needed. You screamed into his hand, trembling under him as he gritted his teeth. “Cummin’ take it all, Y/N~!”
As the waves of pleasure died, Toji removed his hand, smiling at you. You returned his grin, kissing him softly. “Fuck, that was so good.” Toji chuckled, shifting so you both were lying on the couch.
“Y/N, everything is good when it comes to you.”
#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk reader smut#jjk y/n#jjk#jjk reader insert#jjk men#jjk geto#reader jjk#jjk nanami#jjk toji#jjk geto smut#jjk nanami smut#jjk toji smut#suguru geto smut#nanami kento smut#toji fushiguro smut#geto x you#nanami x you#toji x you#geto smut#nanami smut#toji smut#jjk gojo smut#reader x suguru#kento x reader#reader x Toji#suguru x reader#reader x nanami
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Light On - single mom/neighbors fic
Simon Riley/female reader
“Are you sure it’s not too cold?”
“It’s fine.” You glance down at Emmaline in the stroller, wrapped up in a blanket over her little winter jacket, fuzzy wool hat pulled down around her ears. “It’s not nearly chilly enough to be concerned. She’s probably overdressed, to be honest. In Norway, they leave babies outside to sleep in much colder temperatures.”
“Why?” He keeps pace beside you, strolling along the park’s walking path leisurely, trying to keep his heart rate normal every time your hip bumps his thigh, or you nudge him with your elbow.
“It helps their immune system, I think. Exposes them to the germs in their environment, allows them to build resistance, or something. Plus, the climate there is naturally cold? So, I think it helps acclimatize them. Pretty sure some people say they sleep better.”
“That’s… brave of them.” He doesn’t know what else to say, he can’t imagine trusting the world enough to leave a baby, leave Emma, outside to sleep.
“It’s different, I guess, when you have a ‘village’,” you use air quotes around the word village, and regret flashes across your eyes. “when you trust your community. Rely on them.” He doesn’t expect the longing that rings in your voice, the doleful, twisted tone of loss, a mournful sentiment that has him nearly pulling up short, slowing to a stop to tilt his head in consideration, his eyes above the mask zeroed in on yours until you’re giving him a meek smile and shrug. “Anyway,”
“Sweet-“
“I feel like we’re always talking about me or Emma. How about you? How was your week?” You pause, something occurring to you, pushing your lips forward with curiosity. “I know you said you travel for work, but I don’t think you ever told me what you did?” Shit. He’s not ready for this. He tries to recall how he practiced it with Johnny, the words that they agreed upon, the approach he would take.
“Ye gotta make it sound at least somewhat normal, LT. Make her feel safe about it.”
“’m not goin’ lie to her.”
“It’s not lyin’. Just, use the official language. The propaganda stuff, y’know.”
He knows what he’s supposed to say, the lengthy spiel about ‘managing global conflict’ and ‘identifying and neutralizing domestic and global threats’, the words Johnny had suggested, but instead, what comes out is; “I’m uh, in the military. In a multi-national spec ops task force that focuses on counter terrorism. We operate from of a base just outside the city.” The park bustles around the three of you, runners and walkers circumventing where you’ve slowed to a crawl on the crushed gravel path, families tugging at one another, boys and girls hopping with excitement over promises from their parents.
“That’s… interesting.” You say the words slowly, like you’re mulling them over, considering them. “Is it dangerous?”
“Only sometimes.” You raise an eyebrow like you don’t believe him, skepticism plain as day, and he concedes. “It’s not a desk job, but I’m very good at it.” He wants to reassure you, desperate to keep the hope alive that’s been building in his heart for you, needs you to feel safe with him. The water is in sight now, ducks and swans floating on top of the glass like surface, waiting for their offerings that come from so many that frequent their little lake, every day. You motion to an empty bench, turning the stroller in it’s direction, his breath still caught in his chest, lack oxygen starting to make him feel woozy. Say something. Say anything.
“Emmaline’s dad had a dangerous job too.” You unbuckle her from the stroller, cradling her in your lap as you nestle into one end of the bench, eyes fixed on the group of ducks closest to the shore. “And he was good at it.”
“Is that how you lost him?” He concludes softly, the question as gentle as he can voice it. You don’t look at him, but he can see the change in your face, tears welling at the corners of your eyes, posture curling over your baby.
You only nod, but it’s enough. Enough for him to slide a little closer, pressing the outside of his leg to yours. Enough that your free hand wanders, fingers brushing against the fabric of his jeans, your face lifting from the water to his with a question.
“Can you hold her? While I get the biscuits?”
“Of course.” You shift her into his arms, and he straightens her so that she’s sitting up against his chest, crook of his arm supporting her head, other hand flush with her belly. You rummage inside the bag that’s shoved under the stroller, Emma’s backpack, and she coos at you from Simon’s arms. “Is that your mum?” He murmurs, and she gurgles something in response, a happy string of sounds that has his heart warming inside his chest. “Yeah, that’s her huh?” You straighten, bag in your hand, watching him and Emma, sad expression turning beatific, bittersweet smile pulling at your lips.
“Come on.” You don’t reach for the baby, instead motioning for Simon to follow you, trusting him to carry her down behind you, to hold her as you as break up the little pieces of biscuit. “I promised her some ducks.”
#peaches writes#light on#simon riley#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader
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Bombshell reader and Spencer finding out she’s pregnant
fem!reader, 1.5k
cw for pregnancy / reader wants to be pregnant
“This is such a peculiar feeling.”
Spencer’s ready for you physically before his mind has caught up, his hand reaching out for you despite his eyes steadfast on the book he has held to his knee. Legs crossed, relaxing in the supple leather of one of his armchairs, Spencer almost forgot you were here. “What?” he asks.
“What did I say, or what’s peculiar?”
“What’s peculiar?” he asks, letting the book fall down the side of his thigh.
You shuffle closer to his legs, looking down at your clasped hands. “I feel really weird. For a few days. A bit sick, I think.”
He’s not expecting you to say that; it’s been such a quiet evening, and you haven’t mentioned being ill once yet, despite having slept here and spent the day here in your soft pyjamas. “What’s wrong?” he asks.
Because the thing is, Spencer loves you more than he’s ever loved anybody. It’s immediately unnerving for him to hear you aren’t well, because he doesn't want you to have a single shred of strife in your life, not even a papercut. He pulls you closer and closer, looking up into your face, begging to know what’s wrong and unashamed or caring so much. “You’re worrying me,” he prods when you don’t answer.
“Sorry, I’m just…” You lean forward gently. Spencer takes your weight to his side, his cheek to your chest. You face down, wrapping an arm behind his shoulder. “Just have a funny feeling,” you whisper.
“What kind of feeling?” he asks. Spencer could tell you a hundred different facts on funny feelings, gut feelings, and intuition, but that’s not strictly helpful right now. Then again, he knows he’s loved, and so he says the most burning one aloud before he forgets, “Intuition is based on the collating of facts by your brain to predict future events. It’s usually unconscious.”
You touch his hair mindlessly. “Is it usually right?”
“I think that’s up to opinion. Why, angel?” he asks, letting his voice slip into a deeper, settled rasp. He hopes it says what he’s trying to prove to you every single day, that he will take care of you for as long as you’ll let him. “What are you thinking is wrong?”
“I don’t know if it’s wrong…”
He’s so confused. “You can tell me anything,” he assures you, pulling at your hands. There’s room in the armchair for you so long as you’re okay with putting your legs over his, and you are, curling up next to him with your bottom lip pulled between your teeth.
“I know, Spencer. Just let me think about it for a minute.”
“Okay.” He takes your hand once again. For a few minutes he waits in the quiet, rubbing small circles into the back of your hand, trying hard not to look at you lest you feel pressured to talk.
“Okay,” you say quietly, “I have a few things in that bag I brought over for emergencies, you know? In the bathroom. And I have a pregnancy test in there, so I’m going to take it. How do you… how would you feel about that?”
“I’d feel whatever you needed me to,” he says instinctively, the word pregnancy on a flashing look in his mind’s eye. “You think you might be pregnant?”
“Before I take it, before, is that a bad thing if I am?”
He’s shocked to see you acting this way, so far from your regularly scheduled programming. Spencer always assumed that if you ever did become pregnant, he’d learn about it like everybody else. You’d tell him with a big smile or a proud kiss and go about your day. You know what you're worth, and to be pregnant is your decision, your body.
“Of course not,” he says, frowning.
“Are you sure?”
“Why are you asking me?”
“Because it’s something that would affect both of us?”
“No, of course, of course, angel, I just mean, why would it ever be a bad thing?” He puts his hand on your neck. “Unless you think it is.”
“This isn’t something I get to just decide by myself, this decision. I can’t make it alone,” you say.
“Yes you can.” He cups your neck. “But I’d love to make it with you.”
You smile. He can tell you’re going to share your thoughts with him before you do, your eyes clearing with worry for now, and instead shining with your usual, breath-stealing light. “I hope I am,” you say.
He hadn’t known he’d feel this way until right this second. “I hope you are too.”
Your giggle sounds ever so slightly teary and hug him. You kiss his neck, and then you spring out of his lap to drag him with you to the bathroom. It’s a straightforward process but the waiting is agony, you and him sitting on the counter by the sink basin, hands squeezing at each other's fingers with the test baking on his thigh.
“This is crazy,” you murmur. “We were having a normal day.”
“Normal to amazing would be good,” he says.
“What are we gonna do?”
“Well, I’ll have to make some more money.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I,” he says with a laugh. “Do you know how expensive children are?”
“How did your mom afford you and your three PhDs?”
“I got most of that stuff for free,” he says, “on account of being smart for my age.”
You laugh softly. “That’s one way to say it.”
Spencer leans down to kiss your shoulder. “We’ll have to move in together. Like, forever.”
“Oh no.” You prop your head on his. “I basically live here anyways. All the time.”
We’ll have to get married, Spencer thinks, but that’s not necessarily true, and then thinks it should probably be a surprise, before he says, “And I’ll have to ask you to marry me.”
“Not just because I’m–”
“No, not just because you’re pregnant,” he says, though neither of you know yet if that’s true. “Never.”
“That would be admirable.”
He doesn’t know about that, but he knows one thing. “I love you. Really. More than anything.”
“Don’t worry, Spencer. I love you too.”
“Would that be something you wanted?” he asks quietly.
“I’ll say yes whenever you want to ask me,” you say, equally as quiet. “I would’ve said yes five years ago.” You weren’t together five years ago, and he believes it anyways.
Spencer kisses up your cheek and pulls you into his side with a last press of his lips to your temple. The test on his thigh hasn’t changed. It’s a digital one, so you’ll know for sure just as soon as it’s ready. He feels like he can’t breathe right, waiting, waiting, wishing.
“I’m with you no matter what,” he says under his breath.
“I know.” You turn your lips into his cheek, breath fanning his skin. “You know pregnancy makes a woman more beautiful, right?”
“I don’t see how that could possibly happen to you, but I’m excited nonetheless.”
You laugh and smile into his cheek, kissing the slight hollow of it tenderly.
On your thigh, the test blinks to Pregnant.
You don’t notice, too busy kissing him still, your smile hard to ignore as you mumble, “If I’m pregnant, and we’re gonna do all those things you said before, I promise I’ll make you happy, Spence. I’m gonna be good to you. We’re going to be so, so happy, we’re gonna have a house with a garden and a hundred types of flowers, and we’ll keep bees at the end of it, and we’ll have two libraries for all your books, three if you want it, and–”
“I’ll make you happy,” he echoes, “I promise. I’m gonna take care of everything.”
“–the nursery…” You stop kissing him, hearing what it is he hasn’t managed to say in the wavering tone of his voice. You look down as he passes you the test.
“No matter what you want,” he swears.
Your happy tears are plentiful and not what he’s expecting. You wrap your arms around his neck and cry with your legs hanging off of the counter, the test digging into his shoulder, drawing a line over his skin as you check it to be sure and prompt another round of tears. They aren’t loud tears. Your sniffles are half giggle.
“We never do things in the right order,” you say, blissfully happy.
“I don’t think there’s a wrong one.” His turn now to press kisses to your tacky cheek.
“We used to hold hands under the round table.” You shudder with tears.
Lovelorn and unsure, not even dating, your fingers sewn together under the conference table as someone spoke you through the case of the day. His heart in his throat, and your thumb rubbing circles so slowly into his skin his wrist would ache for hours afterwards remembering. You and Spencer have always done things in your own order, and he’d never say wrong.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction
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hi!!! could i request pro hero!bakugo & pro hero!reader where bkgs doing an interview and they ask about relationships and his answer is “I thought you people already knew that im married”
i have no idea how to word things but i hope that was readable🙏🙏
keeping it in the family
wc: 1.6k
cw/tags: swearing, mentions of drinking and alcohol, established relationship, dialogue-driven
note: RAHHH I LOVE HUSBAND BAKUGO. anyways !!! i hope you like this, i did get a little carried away when writing it so hopefully it makes sense. thank you for your ask!!!
likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3
“And we’re on in five, four, three, two…give ‘em hell.” The roar of excited applause jumbles together with the late-night show’s opening theme and the screams of excited fans can still be heard even as Kirishima flashes a blinding smile to the camera.
“Good evening, everyone, and welcome to Heroes on Heroes! We’re so glad you’re joining us tonight, seeing as this is the finale of season one!” The audience cheers with fiery passion and it makes the three heroes onstage chuckle nervously. This was going to be a long night, especially if the superfans were crying after every word they spoke. “I’m Red Riot,” he pauses while the cheering erupts once again, “and I’m joined by my fellow pros, Chargebolt and Dynamight.” You wince from your place at sidestage from the sheer wave of noise that slams into your eardrums when the latter is introduced.
“Thanks for having us tonight, man,” Denki grins. He eagerly drums the armrests of his chair, to the left of Kirishima. “I’ve been looking forward to doing one of these since I saw Deku’s a few weeks back.”
“It’s a great concept, really. I love being able to just chat with you guys and shoot the shit about hero stuff. It’s so manly.” Kirishima turns expectantly to the other hero sitting to his right, whose hot-headed nature was blatantly obvious by how he was slumped in his chair, squinting slightly at the burning spotlights and clicking cameras. You admire Kirishima’s confidence in forcing Katsuki to say something. “What about you, Bakugo? How’re you feeling tonight?���
“I’m alright,” he shrugs indifferently. Your breath catches in your throat and you can hear the Dynamight agency’s publicist put his head in his hands. “It’s been a while, so it’s good to see you guys,” he adds with unexpected fondness and you exhale in relief. His eyes meet yours for half a second and he shoots you a wink that makes your knees wobbly. “I saw that save at the bridge collapse last week, Shitty Hair. Pretty decent work.” Kirishima blinks once, twice, and then glances at Denki. Katuski’s blank look narrows into a scowl. “The hell are you looking like that for? I got shit in my teeth or something?”
“No, no. Sorry, man,” Kirishima laughs. “I just wasn’t expecting a compliment from you so early in the show.”
“Yeah, we thought we’d have to booze you up a little more to get you to be nicer,” Denki jokes and he recoils a bit when he’s struck with a molten hot glare from the hero across from him.
“Whatever you’re about to say, bro, don’t say it,” Kirishima warns and the crackles in Katsuki’s palms gradually dissipate. “But, I’m wondering too. What’s with the good mood?”
“I guess I feel like playing nice tonight,” he answers cryptically, his gaze flicking over to you again with amusement. You can almost sense the fainting girls falling over each other in the front row. Kirishima’s attention subtly darts over to you and a knowing smirk grows over his face. It was the first time you and Katsuki were at the same press event, since you both thought it was too dangerous to sneak around until now. “But, talk about that bridge save. I don’t think a lot of people know that the guy was wanted by several agencies.”
“Ooh, yeah,” Denki agrees with a quick sip of his drink. He swallows and sets the glass down with a light thud. “He’d been giving us hell for weeks. It's not really the best matchup for a sand villain to be going up against an electric hero.”
“It was the sand villain and his wife, wasn’t it? That chick with the melting Quirk?”
“Yep, they were a nasty couple to deal with,” Kirishima confirms. “I had to keep track of this guy’s damn sand spikes and his wife turning the floor to goop at the same time.”
“Goop is a weird-ass way to put it,” Katsuki points out with obvious distaste.
“Yeah, but he was a pretty goopy guy.” Chuckles ripple through the audience and you can’t help breaking a smile too at Kirishima’s joke.
“I think for me, at least,” Denki adds, “the biggest pain was the fact that they were married, and they had, like, marriage telepathy or something.”
“Bro, I thought that was just me! Here I was, thinking that I’d incapacitated one and split them from the other, when bam! Both of them appear in front of me like a damn genie.”
“You ever have to deal with villain couples, Bakubro?”
“Nah, not recently. We’ve been doing a lot of big raids on all the crime families downtown.” He flexes his right bicep and pulls back the sleeve of his shirt to show a gnarly purple spot growing on his skin. “Got this little beauty three days ago from a neo-Hassaikai asshole.” You're not fazed by the ugly shade of the wound because you were the one who stitched up the...less visible results of the raid.
“Jeez, man,” Denki says in disbelieving awe at his friend’s injury. “If you ever need backup, we’d love to do a team up with you.”
“I think I’d rather die–”
“My agency would also love to team-up with you,” Kirishima interjects before Katsuki can finish his thought. The heart rate monitor of his publicist begins to rapidly beep behind you. “We can have a threeway team-up! That’d be pretty cool, don’t you guys think?”
“What if we all just merged into one big super agency? Like a big family?”
“That sounds like the stupidest shit–” Again, Kirishima cuts off Katsuki’s brash protests and saves them from being taken off the air.
"That would be so awesome."
“Would that mean we’d have to get pro-hero partners, too? Keep hero work in the family?”
“I think Salonpas would have heart palpitations if we said we were trying to keep hero work within the family,” Katsuki points out and his friends nod in agreement. “On another fuckin’ note, that Half-and-Half idiot keeps hogging the number two spot and it pisses me off.” Though you didn’t often encounter Todoroki while you were on patrol, you knew that he was adamant about keeping work life and family life separate. It made him even more of a dedicated hero and a recent bust of a notorious crime ring bumped him into the number two spot over Dynamight for that month. You didn’t hear the end of it from Katsuki.
“He and Deku just work really efficiently, Bakubro.”
“I can efficiently slam both their skulls into a–”
“You know what would solve that problem?” Denki butts in unceremoniously, covering up his harsh words for a third time. Katsuki grunts in response and the lightning-decorated hero gives him enthusiastic finger-guns. “Combining and making a family agency.”
“What are the chances that Sero would want to join too?”
“Probably pretty high,” Kirishima guesses. “He’s at my place every other week, anyway, so he’s basically my brother.”
“Alright, maybe this could actually work, then. I just need to find a smoking hot hero wife.”
“That’ll probably be the hardest part, buddy–”
“What about Bakugo?” You stiffen and the three guys turn their attention to a voice calling out from the audience. Speaking during the interviews was strictly prohibited until the question and answer section, but getting Katsuki’s attention was a surefire way to derail the entire episode.
“The fuck do you mean, what about Bakugo? Who the fuck said that?”
"Dude, just ignore them."
“Can’t be a family agency if Bakugo never gets into relationships,” the same nasally, irritating voice argues and your face feels like it’s been set on fire. Kirishima’s attention jumps to you for a moment and then back to his friend, whose palms are starting to spark like fireworks. “Do you just get no bitches, or something?” The audience gasps and security finally arrives to escort the disturbance out of the building. The director is ready to stop the cameras and jump to a commercial break, but Katsuki speaks before he can order the sound crew to cut the mics. To everyone’s surprise, his voice is nothing but amusement, like the insinuation didn’t bother him in the slightest.
“You think I don’t get into relationships?”
“Bakugo…”
“It’s alright, Pikachu. I really don’t give a shit about whatever that guy said,” Katsuki reassures his friend with a sly glint in his eye. His friends watch him warily, like a grenade on the verge of exploding. Once again, burning red eyes meet yours with a single question that you answer with a resolute nod. “I’m not gonna blow up, so stop looking like that. Really, I don’t care.”
“Why not?” A tense beat of silence passes, then–
“I thought you people knew that I’m married.” A shit-eating grin spreads across your husband’s face as gasps of shock burst from the audience. Kirishima and Denki both shake their heads in exasperation. They knew already, of course, but they didn’t expect him to reveal his relationship status as a result of a heckler. “Yep, going on a year and a half, now. Around five years together total coming this winter.” More collective cries of jealousy, surprise, and betrayal shake the building’s foundation. "If you don't believe me, ask these guys."
"Yeah, we were at the wedding, too. It's hard to keep it a secret when all of your friends are also high-profile heroes."
“Can you guys believe that he fell in love during the winter?” Denki’s thumb juts out toward his friend, who frowns at the mere mention of cold weather.
“I fucking hate the winter,” he grumbles.
“We know, man,” Kirishima says sympathetically, unsuccessfully hiding a chuckle. “You’ve been saying that since high school.”
“Yeah, and shit hasn’t changed,” Katsuki bites back with lighthearted indignance. “Look, they saved my ass when it was cold; how was I not supposed to fall in love with them?” To your delight, his complexion has turned a slightly darker shade of pink. “Yeah, I love them. What about it, asshats?”
“Is this a bad time to bring up the family agency again?”
“Let’s go to commercial before I blow this fucking chair to pieces.”
if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)
#bakugo x you#bakugo x reader#bakugo x y/n#katsuki bakugo x you#katsuki bakugo x reader#katsuki bakugo x y/n#mha x you#mha x reader#mha x y/n#bnha x you#bnha x reader#bnha x y/n#ask iris!
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arsenal, hoodies and hickies for tobin! (bonus if shes still playing for them and maybe dating someones sibling)
Spill The Tea (Alessia Russo x Press!Reader)
A/N: changed the req a bit bc there is no Tobin without Christen so I made the reader Christen’s sibling
“Is this something I’m going to need to tell Christen or can I trust you to be a responsible adult?”
There’s this thing with Tobin. Ever since she started dating your sister all those years ago, she’s really slipped into the role of the fourth older sister you don’t need.
While she isn’t as nitpicky as Tyler and Christen or as interrogative as Channing, Tobin still liked to harp on you quite a lot. So you’ve heard this question come out of her mouth more times than you can count. And by now you know better than to expect Tobin to keep a secret from Christen.
You tilt your head towards her, a singular eyebrow raising up in question as your arms stay halfway through your training shirt. Of all times Tobin could’ve started a conversation of course she had to wait until you were quite literally trapped with nowhere to escape.
“Why do you think I have anything to tell you?”
“You have a hickey the size of Maine on your neck.”
You follow her eyes down to your skin. Your still very bruised skin.
The memory of mischievous eyes sparkling as you tried to sneak out this morning flashes clearly through your mind as you hastily pull on a neck warmer from your cubby.
You can still feel Tobin’s eyes on the side of your face as you try to busy yourself pulling on the last of your clothes.
“You’re seeing someone, don’t lie.”
“And why do you think so?” You look up to see Tobin giving you a look. You roll your eyes. “Apart from the hickey.”
“You’re really going to make me play detective today?” When you don’t respond Tobin lets out an annoyed grunt. “Where to start? Well you’ve been sneaking in at 6 in the morning for the past couple of weeks.”
It’s not your fault you haven’t been given a drawer yet. Frankly the number of times you’ve stayed over should’ve already gotten you a place to store your things but Alessia’s been extremely paranoid about letting you leave traces of yourself at hers. Something about how her England teammates like coming over unannounced. A lot. Better to keep no trace of you at her place lest a blabbermouth blabbers too much.
“And changing your phone password? Not cool, dude.”
You cringe at the memory of Tobin storming into your room at half past twelve the other day, exasperated at the fact that a). you weren’t up and making her breakfast yet, and b). she couldn’t get into your phone to doordash some food.
You and Tobin shared everything. Cooking duties. The occasional snapback. Your phone passwords. But that last one was the first thing you changed when you started seeing Alessia.
“And finally, this,” Tobin pokes at the light blue hoodie peeking out of your duffle, “is not yours.”
You try ducking under her arm to get out of the locker room but Tobin grabs a firm hold of your training top, jerking you back towards her.
You’re nose to nose now and the forward has no problem using her height advantage to stare you down. “I’ll ask again. Who have you been locking lips with?”
You scowl. “Well you’re playing detective today right? Guess.”
Tobin’s lips pinch shut, a displeased look on her face.
Before she can retaliate, a brief call of her name by Kim has Tobin turning away. When her hands loosen their hold, you bolt, taking full advantage of Tobin’s brief dip of attention.
Unbeknownst to you, a pair of blue eyes follow you out of the room.
It isn’t until you’re already stretching on the sideline that long legs catch up to you. A soft smile breaks onto your face at the sight of other girl, hands opening and closing as you mime at her to come closer for a kiss.
For a second you think Alessia's going to crumble to your demands.
And then you see her panicked expression.
“Did Tobin figure out we’re dating?”
Sighing, you push yourself off the ground, taking care to brush grass off your legs. “No, Tobin’s smart but she isn’t that smart.”
Alessia gives you a look that has you wondering if she’s offended on the behalf of the striker.
You roll your eyes before giving her a light shove. “Relax, all she saw was your hoodie. She’s not going to know it’s yours.”
Alessia’s eyes widen at the mention of the sweatshirt you snuck out of her house this morning. Usually it’s cute and all and she really does love seeing you in her clothes, but faced with the fact that it’s branded with the UNC logo on the front? Or the fact that Tobin knows you followed in Christen’s footsteps and went to Stanford instead of Chapel Hill?
“My hoodie? Babe! Of course she’s going to know it’s mine!”
“Relax,” you repeat, hands coming up to rub at her tense shoulders. “There are four of you who played at UNC who are on the team now. She’ll be too busy trying to figure out if it’s you, Lotte, or Foxy to ever find the real culprit.”
If anything, your words only seem to agitate her more. Alessia slaps your hands away, arms crossing over her chest. “You’d rather Tobin think you’re dating Lotte or Em over me?”
Safe to say, any words you try to defend yourself with only digs you deeper into the hole.
Tobin’s pleasantly surprised to see you moping on the couch later that night.
.
It doesn't take as long as you’re expecting for Tobin to figure it out.
You’re doing your weekly check-in with your sister a couple days later when Christen’s face suddenly widens into a teasing smirk.
“So Tobin tells me you have a new girlfriend.”
You resist the urge to fling your phone across the room. Instead, you do the mature thing and hang up the phone.
Christen doesn’t look impressed when she calls back and you pick up.
“Oh don’t be a wuss. There’s nothing you can do without me knowing. So spill. Tell me all about her.”
You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Really, Chris? This is what you want to talk about?”
Even from a continent away you can see the megawatt smile being sent your way. “Couldn’t take my number so you had to take out a girl who has it too, huh?”
Tobin cringes in her room when she hears the telltale sound of your phone crashing against the wall.
#alessia russo x reader#alessia russo imagine#tobin heath x reader#tobin heath imagine#woso x reader#woso imagine#uswnt x reader#uswnt imagine#3wp#Ace writes
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SAY MY NAME OR NOTHING AT ALL . . . fyodor doesn’t fall prey to emotions like jealousy (or so he says).
ft. fyodor + f!reader, subordinate!reader, possessive behavior, fingering, one use of “good girl”, fyodor is a little petty but he’s still soft for u, reader is a little lovesick…mdni !!
p.s.! ₊˚. idk what this is !! maybe (def) ooc but i needed an excuse to write ab fyodor & his pretty fingers ꩜_꩜
it’s quickly becoming clear to fyodor that choosing you for this mission was more trouble than it was worth.
all you had to do was collect information from a particularly important man, one with a history of being easily captivated by beautiful women. you’d take what fyodor required, then dispose of him. there was no question you’d be able to charm him, especially when you were wearing the silk gown fyodor had personally chosen for you. it suited you perfectly, highlighted all of your finest features; after all, he knew youーmind, body, and soulーbetter than anybody else.
the same gown a pair of filthy hands were trying to slither beneath, and you were letting them.
fyodor monitors you from the comfort of his office, listening quietly, as always. he hacks into the security cameras of the dining hall, watching as you run your hand down the man’s chest, batting your lashes. your fingers, curling around his thigh as you lean forward and brush your lips against his ear, whispering something. he can make out your smile even through the grainy lens as you pull him by your intertwined hands out of sight.
he doesn’t even realize how hard he’s biting his thumb until the taste of blood trickles onto his tongue.
you were an incredibly important asset, but even more importantly, you were his. you were more than a pretty little pawn, if anything, you were a queen; you’re rightful place was beside him.
with the ability to see through everyone he encountered, he found himself bored by humanity’s sheer mediocrity. you were the exception, sneaking into his thoughts, igniting something unfamiliar and ticklish in his chest. he wouldn’t let you fall into someone else’s undeserving hands so easily.
you’re late when you arrive back. he hears you before he sees you, heels clicking down the marble floor of the hallway before his office door creaks open.
“quite a convincing performance,” his lips curl upward as he stands from his chair. “one must think you’ve had a lot of practice seducing men. you should’ve mentioned it sooner.”
you don’t seem surprised he was watching you, tilting your head at him as you smile innocently. “isn’t that why you asked me to do this mission?”
“it wasn’t an ask as much as an order, my dearest.”
he watches as you pull your heels off, still dotted with stray blood splatters. his eyes don’t waver as you approach his desk, dropping a flash drive onto the dark wood.
he curls his fingers beneath your chin, eyebrows furrowing as he tilts your head towards him. his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him, your lipstick was smeared.
“did you kiss him?” he grips your jaw, squinting his eyes. they flit down to your throat, watching you swallow. as far as he’s concerned, touching what’s his is the greatest sin of all; his only comfort was that you’d already gotten rid of that man and his filth, even if it had gotten on you in the process.
“where else did he touch you?” he feels your skin warm beneath his fingers. he looks at you carefully, expecting some type of answer, but you only look at the floor, trying to lessen the weight of his disapproving gaze on you. he tilts your head higher, forcing you to meet his eyes. from the way you squirm, he knows you’re clenching your thighs beneath your dress. “i’ll simply have to cleanse you. surely he didn’t touch you here, hm?”
he trails his hand down your figure, ghosting the delicate curve of your throat and the plush of your chest before he settles on your lower stomach, pressing down through the silky fabric.
“no,” you whisper. he can see your heartbeat through the fabric of your dress, and he knows the reason your pupils are dilated isn’t from the lack of light in his office. “of course not.”
“of course not,” he repeats. he pushes his keyboard aside, papers scattering across his desk, and you sit on it without hesitation. despite your actions this evening, you were still trained well.
your thighs are warm against his hands when he lifts up the tulle of your dress. your breath catches when his cool touch permeates through the thin fabric of your underwear as he trails his fingertips against you, stopping right above your most sensitive spot.
he stretches the elastic to the side, barely brushing against your clit, but it’s still enough for your hips to jerk. he rubs slow circles, stroking through your folds before he presses a finger into you, smiling at the way you open your legs wider for him. he puts in another, nearly down to his knuckle before he curls them. his grin only grows when he finds your sweet spot, and you let out a satisfied sigh. he splays his hand against your stomach to keep you still when you roll your hips, trying to get him deeper.
“don’t be so impatient, dear,” he leans close enough to whisper into your ear. “you know i’ll take care of you.”
“i know,” you dreamily sigh. “you always do.”
your cunt clings to him as he pulls his finger in and out, watching with careful eyes at the way your lips quiver and your muscles tense.
“tell me,” he says, as casual as if he was speaking to you over tea. “do you think that man could do this to you?”
you shake your head, opening your mouth to speak when he presses into you especially hard, and you let out a choked whine instead.
“only you could,” you cling to his lithe wrist. “there’s no one else like you, fyodor. i was made f’you, i swear.”
he hums, pleased. you were too adorable, completely wrapped around his finger. he rewards you with a kiss as he scissors his fingers, gently stretching you.
your teeth nip at his bottom lip, tongue smoothing against the rough, cracked skin. you’re practically dripping into his palm, moans vibrating against his lips, and he can’t help the satisfaction that blooms when you make those sweet noises, all because of him.
“fyodor,” your fingers twitch, clinging to the edge of the desk, head lolling. he knows you’re dying to touch yourself, but you don’t, letting him play with you in whatever way he wanted. maybe you were still his good girl after all.
you gasp as he grinds his palm against your clit. even through your half-lidded eyes, you look at him like he’d personally hung the moon, pupils sparkling with adoration. something flutters against his ribcage at the sight of you, completely in awe of him. you tug him closer, toes curled as your ankles press against the back of his thighs, muffling your whimpers against his shoulder.
hearing you moan his name was prettier than even the most complicated pieces he played on his cello, your glassy eyes and soft hands clinging to him like your life depended on it finer than any work of art he’d ever seen.
your legs tremble so hard they shake his desk against the wall. he grips the soft skin of your thigh, moving his knee to keep you in place, holding them open when they threaten to close. he feels your cunt tighten around his fingers, back arching as he quickens his pace on your clit before you cum, body practically melting in place.
you always looked beautiful when you fell apart because of him. your head falls back, perfect, soft skin of your neck on display, begging for him to sink his teeth into, to visibly lay his claim, and his name falls out of your mouth like a hymn. your dress strap has fallen down, silk barely covering your cleavage when he pulls his fingers out of you.
he looks at his hand, coated and shining with your cum. chest still heaving, you meet his gaze, parting your pretty lips, tongue slipping out.
it’d be pathetic how obediently you open up for him, if you were anyone else. you lick at his fingers gently, looking up at him through your lashes as you suck them into your mouth. you curl your tongue around each one, eyes watering when he presses dangerously close to the back of your throat. you kiss his fingertips as he pulls them back.
you look like his very own angel: fabric flowing around your waist, thighs still spread open, lips shiny with drool.
maybe it’s him you have wrapped around your finger.
he cups your cheek, brushing his fingers through your hair. your forehead falls to his chest and he rubs his thumb along the back of your neck, still warm. his gaze falls back to the flash drive on his desk.
“the mission was successful, yes?”
“mhm,” you turn your head so your ear is pressed against his heart, smoothing your hands across the silky fabric blanketing you. “i didn’t even stain my dress.”
“how impressive,” he smiles, careful not to let the elastic snap against your skin as he slides your underwear back into place, pulling your dress strap up your shoulder. “i quite like it on you. i’d hate to have to throw it away so soon.”
he guides you off the desk with a hand on your lower back, keeping it there even as he settles you against his lap, pulling his papers back into place. this is where you belong, right next to him, basked in the violet light of his monitors.
“you don’t have to be jealous,” you whisper. “i only did it for the mission.”
he looks down at you, nuzzled against his shoulder, peering up at him with heavy eyes.
“i would’ve rather spent my night with you,” you tuck his hair behind his ear before you brush your lip against his cheek, hand settling right above his heart. it almost felt intimate. “i only got through it because i thought about you the entire time.”
he wonders if you can feel the way you effect him with your hand resting on his chest like this. he tightens his hold against your back; he’ll have to give you a proper reward, like your own night out with him, where you can hold his hand, whisper secrets in his ear, and let him smear your lipstick afterwards.
“obviously.”
BSD MASTERLIST
#💌 . . . with love mai ⊹ ࣪ ˖#fyodor x reader#bungou stray dogs x reader#bsd x reader#fyodor smut#fyodor dostoyevsky x reader#bsd imagines#bsd smut#fyodor x y/n#fyodor x you#fyodor imagines#ʚ shhh ɞ
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visions — abby anderson.
summary: a love letter to trying (or the time when you met your favorite people in the world, an overly stressed med student and her overly adventurous one-year-old, in your apartment's hallway).
notes: constantly suffering from chronic baby fever so this is a present from me to you because i spend way too much time thinking about abby as a mom <3
do not support zionist neil druckmann or any future tlou realeases.
a daily click to help palestine.
donation links, educational resources and ways to be useful.
୨・┈﹕✦﹕﹕✦﹕┈・୧
You’re stepping out of the elevator when you suddenly hear it— a series of light thumps on the floor, fast but determined like a tiny little elephant who really has somewhere to be right now. Another step and then you stop clumsily when a flash of golden hair comes rushing past you. You follow the sight with your eyes, tilting your head. A little girl is walking, no, stomping through the hallway. She’s no older than two years old, her thin shining hair in two short braids, blue jean overalls and red socks on her feet. She moves so confidently that you almost don’t think about it, almost have the instinct to look away as if to not accidentally appear nosy, but her tiny stature and wobbly sense of direction keep your attention.
You look around the hallway, expecting surely the sound of the little girl’s parent calling her name (something sweet and pretty and classic, you imagine; it’d suit her). You picture her name being followed by a tired sigh before her patents rush to catch up, maybe rolling their eyes in a way that pretends to be annoyed but unmistakingly holds a million times more affection. A perfect family, a tiny glimpse of a full life somehow existing right in your unimportant building.
The hallway is long and terribly empty. You look back at the little girl who is striding forward in less of a rush now, with no worries, like this is the same route she’s taken for years.
What are you supposed to say to get a kid’s attention when you don’t know their name? What’s something concise, yet nice, yet simple enough to be understood? Babysitting as a teen has prepared you for a lot, just maybe not all of it. It's been a little too long. You linger on it for just a second before spitting out the first thing that comes to mind. “Hi, princess,” It’s a little awkward, but you’re relieved when she immediately stops and spins around, like something about it sounded familiar— could be your sweet tone or the nickname, you’re not sure. The little girl tilts her head to the side, round cheek lightly squished against her shoulder. It's the cutest thing you’ve ever seen and it makes you giggle like a charmed kid. “Where did you come from?” you ask, but before you have the chance to reach her she pouts her lips, as if just now realizing that you’re not who she thought you were. And then she turns her back, like there's no time to waste, to return to her journey with renewed enthusiasm.
In a scarily fast moment, you realize that she’s going for the stairs. It would maybe be a slightly less terrifying idea if that stupid door actually worked— but it doesn't, it broke sometime last May and now it's awfully easy to open, no strength or shove required. Sometimes, if it's windy and quiet enough, you can faintly hear it swing back and forth from your apartment. The little girl reaches a hand out, not intimidated by the tall door more than three times her height. If you weren’t this terrified, you’d find it amazingly admirable.
You don’t register you’re running until you reach her, don’t register the sound of fast steps behind you or the scream of Rue! or anything else other than the heavy relief on your chest when you lift the baby by her armpits and hold her over your hip against your side. She’s fussing in your arms immediately, upset that she’s being interrupted, especially by a stranger. “I know, I’m sorry, baby. It’s okay, you’re okay,” you coo, though trying to be soothing when your heart is beating this fast is admittedly not the easiest task.
“Rue!” Someone repeats, and this time you do hear it. A woman is running down the hallway, hand coming down to mindlessly drop a tote bag bursting with groceries on the floor by the time she’s in front of you. The little girl reaches out her arms immediately, tiny fists opening and closing furiously and you sigh with relief as you carefully pass her over to the arms of the tall stranger. Her hair is blonde but darker than Rue’s, held back in a braid that looks both pretty and messy, like it was once pristine and then slept on. She’s wearing jeans and a half unbuttoned white shirt, a black tank top underneath. Her chest rises and falls and you notice that yours is no different. Adrenaline is a strange bond to share with a stranger, but it does make things less awkward, knowing you’re both here, feeling the same thing. You meet her expertly focused eyes for just a second before she turns to look at the little girl, searching for anything that could be wrong. “I’m so sorry, sweet girl. You’re okay, right? You’re okay,” the baby flashes a precious, wobbly smile at the sound of her voice, but she’s quickly distracted by the endlessly fascinating rainbow of groceries that lie on the floor. Her tiny head peeks over her mom’s shoulder to observe and it’s like you both can take a more soothing breath now, knowing she’s okay. “Thank you so much,” Abby says. You blink a couple times before you realize that she’s talking to you. “Sorry, I really don’t know how that happened. We were— we just got home from the store and I hadn't even put down all the bags yet and I thought— I was convinced that I shut the door, but…” her rambling drifts off and the stranger takes another breath, reddish embarrassment crawling up her neck.
You understand, suddenly, that she’s not only struggling with the stress of losing and finding her baby, but also the shame of having to face a stranger who might judge her for it. It feels insane to you, to think that she would be forced to prioritize that right now. “Oh, no, it’s okay!” you rush to respond. “I saw her immediately, and you were here in seconds! She wouldn't have gotten any further than that,” your smile is soft, but you speak with enough confidence to be reassuring (babysitting lessons, perhaps), “It was just a scare— don’t be too hard on yourself, please.”
Abby looks disarmed by your answer, her eyebrows raised in surprise. A short moment passes before she nods and smiles back, a small gesture without any less warmth. It’s the most relaxed you’ve seen her so far and it suits her beautifully, enough to make your face feel warm. Her blushing is much less forgiving though, more physically evident on her skin, spread over her cheekbones and the bridge of her pretty nose.
Rue giggles and it distracts you both, her hand waving excitedly at the colorful bird printed on a box of cereal as soon as she spots him. Abby looks at you for a second too long before she clears her throat, joking, “Sorry, she really loves that guy.”
You hum. “He is pretty cool, to be fair.”
Abby tilts her head, copying your sincere tone. “I don’t know, I always thought he’d be kind of a dick in person. He just looks like the type.”
Your startled laugh makes her smirk but she's frustratingly good at hiding it, free hand covering her mouth casually enough that you don’t notice. You look at the grabbing motion of the baby’s hands and pout with sympathy. “She loves him, though. We should probably get him off the floor.”
“Yeah, I should get that— I guess I just ran out with the bag, huh?” Abby huffs. She looks and sounds, physically, a lot less anxious now, less ashamed and more annoyed at herself.
“Would you like some help?”
“That’s okay, I got it,” she’s not sure that she does but she says it anyway, instinctively. Abby tries to lean down and Rue clutches her shirt, pulling enough to communicate that she is not ready to be put down yet. Abby straightens her back quickly enough to communicate that she is not ready to risk getting her any more upset for today. She meets your eyes for just a second. “Well, maybe some help.”
“Sure, just some,” you chuckle. “I’ll get it, don’t worry about it.”
People say that to Abby a lot— don’t worry about it! She hears it from her colleagues when she inevitably asks for the notes from the last class she ran a little late to, from a few of her kinder professors when she’s a day past some assignment’s deadline, from the guy at the grocery store that picks up the packets of M&M bags from the floor when Rue’s curious hands knock them over, from her dad when she asks if he’d be okay with babysitting for just a tiny bit longer. It always makes her stomach turn with guilt, some cases more intense than others, her lips usually pursed as she turns around and takes a breath. This time when you say it, she finds the guilt passing through her with ease, a short visit that makes her shoulders tense before it gets replaced by something else. She believes you, for some reason. Her brain is quiet except for thinking, for once, that there could really be nothing to worry about.
Your hands move casually as you pick everything up, resting on your knees like it’s not uncomfortable, like they might as well be your groceries. The idea is startling. Abby thinks, suddenly, that if someone were to walk into this scene, they wouldn’t read you as a kind stranger. Your ease would hint to something else, a friend, a lover, a picture of a family. Abby finds herself looking at your hands again, brought back to reality only by the slight tug of her hair. Rue plays with her braid distractedly, mumbling to herself about her froot loops friend— except she hasn’t quite learned to pronounce it yet, so it sounds more like oot oops.
Abby chuckles, brushing some of her loose baby hair behind her ears, mumbling back answers to her gibberish to keep her entertained even if Rue doesn’t seem to need it. She’s always endlessly thrilled to just be outside, perhaps the one trait she got from her grandpa rather than her mom. Other than her light snoring.
“She loves you a lot,” you comment, rising from your knees with the bag hanging on your shoulder. You don’t ask and Abby doesn’t think about it— you just start walking back to her apartment together. “Don’t you, Ru-Ru?” the baby giggles, her head turning to you, blue eyes sparkling. You laugh, “Oh, you like that name. It suits you, Ru-Ru.”
“That’s what my dad calls her,” Abby explains.
“He sounds like a man with taste,” you say. “What do you call her?”
“Princess.”
Your smile is wide and pleased. “That suits her even more, I fear.”
“I think so, too,” Abby agrees, a proud little glimmer in her eyes. She stops in front of her door, B06 engraved in silver. Is it always such a short walk from the elevator? She’s seriously thinking about it until, after realizing in an embarrassing second that she never introduced herself to the person kind enough to chase after her baby, help pick up her groceries and carry them home, Abby suddenly turns to you with widened blue eyes and pretty, reddened cheeks. You forgive her before she even says anything, and forget your traitorous reason before it gets a chance to warn you about how dangerous that thought is. “God, sorry, I never told you my name. I’m—”
“Abby, right?” you smile softly at her surprised face, chuckling before you explain, “One of our neighbors is an old friend of mine and she kinda threw this welcome party for me when I moved in. I promise we weren’t gossiping, but I think someone mentioned you.”
“Oh,” Abby nods casually, brushing it off as if she won’t be spending all night thinking about what your first impression of her might’ve been like. Rue fusses in her arms, a little grunt as she kicks her legs to be put down. “Sorry— I‘ll be right back,” Abby shares a quick look with you and you wave goodbye, not surprised to be missing Rue as soon as she turns around. You watch them walk inside together, a tiny hand waving back at you and making you smile as she excitedly makes her way to her playpen, shrieking bye-bye! Abby places a kiss on top of Rue’s blonde hair and makes her laugh with some noise that you don’t quite catch. She’s comfortable here, walking amongst colorful toys and biology books. She moves like an expert, pulling down her shirt where it rode up somewhere along the way. You make half an effort not to stare, but it’s half more than the effort Abby makes to not let it get to her head. The most confident she’s felt so far, she asks you, “Did that totally innocent welcome party of yours happen, like, two weeks ago? I think I heard some music.”
“It was extremely innocent,” you insist, eyebrows raised teasingly, “And no, sorry, not sure what that was— I moved here like a year ago.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
You grace her (or yourself) with a second of silence before you laugh at her awkward expression, the way she brushes a hand over her flushed face and huffs. “Fuck, that’s embarrassing. I’m kinda terrible at keeping up with this type of, uh, social stuff.”
“It’s not embarrassing, I promise. It’s a big world,” you reassure her. “Even bigger when you’re doing a million other stuff.”
You tell her your name and Abby, who is young like you but also highly knowledgeable on little specific human interaction cheat-codes that come with being a mom, nods her head and makes her eyes light up with what seems, to the naive eye, like recognition. “Oh, that’s right!”
You stare for a second before squinting your eyes. “Are you lying to me, Abby from B06?”
Abby grins, wondering when was the last time she found being caught this funny. “Yeah, sorry. I’ve never heard that name in my life.”
You laugh the loudest you have so far and a daydreamed life flashes in Abby’s head— in that big, dramatic way that it does only when you’ve been watching too many rom-coms every night, or when you’re getting too much dating advice from your friend who’s been married since eighteen, or maybe when you fall in love with a pretty stranger who seems to be able to read your mind. It’s an idealized vision of an idealized world, and Abby finds herself being completely okay to clutch it in her fists to keep, because it’s fucking lovely.
“Well, I forgive you,” you tell her, unaware (maybe?) of the chaos that you’ve induced inside of her. “You’re a busy girl.”
Abby tries to think of a good, smooth way to tell you that she could see herself saying your name everyday, placed adoringly after good morning and I miss you. All she comes up with is, “I got enough time to learn it.”
—
You play with the hem of your shirt, pajamas made of mostly Abby’s clothes every night, a scent on them that’s not yours but it might as well be. It’s yours in all the ways that matter, in the same sense that she is. Abby walks out of the bathroom wearing her usual pajamas— a shirt that fits too loose and boxers that are a little too tight around her thighs. She doesn't seem to mind them, and you don’t seem to wanna complain. She knows by the way you look at her. You’re leaning back on your palms, your head tilted, the same shyness and sparkly adoration in your eyes that you’d get when you didn't know each other all that well. It’s not too often that she sees that nervousness anymore, but she still gets glimpses of it, a blink of something on your face or your tone or your breathing that says I have a crush on you and I’m hoping you can’t tell. She likes that nervousness the best right now, the way it’s timid and then settles into something like cockiness when you remember that she’s looking at you just the same, when you remember how much you like the way she copies the tilt of your head and teases you as if she's not also smiling like you’re the most beautiful thing in the world.
Abby loves every moment like this, loves getting home and helping prepare dinner and making Rue laugh before kissing her goodnight, loves doing the dishes with you and flirting and talking about the day. Today, she’s especially looking forward to the latter.
“So, how was it?” she asks, the back of her thighs resting against the dresser. She’s trying to play it cool and she's annoyingly good at it, even now.
“Hm?” you hum, leaning further back to rest on your elbows, your back almost fully touching the bed. Abby feels a little bad keeping you up, but she knows she’ll be tossing and turning all night if she has to wait until the morning to ask.
“The school meeting.”
“Oh,” you smile wide enough to look silly and beautiful, sweet enough to rot teeth. She feels like she could sink in it, your smile and the relief it brings to her well hidden nervousness. “I loved it so much, Abs.”
Abby is smooth when she walks closer, soft when she cups your cheek, but there's something anxious in her eyes if you know where to look. “Yeah?” she insists.
You nod your head and kiss the palm of her hand, your lips pressed together in that funny way of trying to hold back an excited giggle. Abby smiles and feels nostalgic for the time, many many months ago, when she’d bring a finger to her lips to shush you and then remind you in an expert whisper that Rue is sleeping in the other room. She doesn't have to teach you much at all anymore, and every moment that proves that to her feels like the most beautiful, unfamiliar peace.
“I’m so happy,” you announce, looking up at her. You’re tired enough that it feels almost like being drunk, which is maybe why a short giggle manages to escape. Abby finds it contagious, your joy moves through her as naturally and importantly as the pumping of her blood. “I’m so excited for all of it.”
It’s the second parents' meeting that you’ve attended at Rue’s school— but you spent that first one sitting quietly by her side, practically hiding behind her, too aware of yourself and of the fact that you don’t really know what you’re doing. “Nobody knows,” Abby confessed on your way home, a hand on the steering wheel and another over your leg, her fingers tapping a comforting rhythm. “Parenting is beautiful, it just comes a lot less naturally than you’d think. That thing about a biological, primal wisdom or whatever— it’s a nice concept. But the best things I know came from me actively trying.”
Her words echoed in your head when you said yes to attending this school meeting alone, when you smiled and made the effort to look as calm as you could, kissed her cheek and said “of course!”. Being Rue’s parent doesn’t always come naturally, but it comes from the most genuine love, every single time. Of course you can go to her meeting when Abby can’t reschedule work, because of course you want to know about how Rue is doing in school. It’s an honor to be there for her, to speak for her when you know she needs you to. This is you actively trying.
“How were the other parents?” Abby asks, lying on her side now, her finger tracing unreadable patterns on your cheek. She craves physical contact more than she’d like to admit— but it works great, because you never ask her to admit it if she doesn't want to. The pads of her fingers say enough.
“They were cool, they were all very sweet to me. Well, Leo’s mom is a little passive aggressive but she’s that way with everyone,” you comment through a yawn, the side of your face comfortably pressed against your pillow. Abby hums, agreeing. “Sophie’s mom was the nicest, she sat next to me and invited me to join her and Jade’s mom for brunch.”
“Which Sophie?”
“The one that gave Rue a Valentine’s gift, that milk chocolate that she loves.”
“Oh, I like that Sophie.”
“Me too. I think I wouldn't mind joining a weekly brunch cult with her mom.”
Abby laughs in the way that she only does when she’s sleepy, where she sounds almost like her teenage self, shy and sweet. By the time it dies down, you’re almost asleep. But then, softly enough that you almost don’t hear it, she asks, “How do you think you would feel if she called you that?”
You make a questioning little sound that sounds like "what?" but not quite.
“If Rue called you mom.”
Your eyes open in a second, though not without effort. You look at Abby’s face, her pretty, relaxed features, and answer honestly. “I would probably cry. And then kiss her cheeks for as long as she let me.”
Abby chuckles. “Like when she fell off the swing and got the tiniest scratch on her knee?”
“Yeah, just— the joyful version of that, I guess. They would be the happiest tears ever spilled,” you explain, so sincere that Abby almost tells you. And you know her enough to read it on her face, the way she barely parted her lips and then pressed them back together quickly. Your head lifts from the pillow. “Wait, why? She told you something? Did she ask about that?”
Abby is great at keeping it cool, but less so once she’s been caught. Her nervous chuckle says it all. “I…”
“Abby, I swear to god, I will not let you sleep until you tell me.”
She more than believes you, but a flash memory of her pinky finger wrapped around Rue’s holds her back from spilling any more details. “Sorry, baby, I’m not allowed to say.”
“Oh my god,” you drop back onto your pillow, this time lying flat on your back. “You think she’s gonna say it?” you ask, and Abby is unsure if you’re asking her or the ceiling or a godly presence way above it. Or yourself, most likely. “It’s okay if she doesn't, maybe she was just curious. Maybe she needs time. I mean, obviously. She probably won’t say it, like, tomorrow, right?” you turn your head and look at her, so wrapped up in your inner monologue that you don’t process the amusement and adoration that’s all over your girlfriend’s face. “What if I react super weird and she doesn't say it again?”
Abby’s lips stretch into the softest smile, so in love that she almost forgets to answer and instead holds her hand on the back of your neck and pulls you close to press a kiss against your forehead. Your eyebrows are still furrowed worriedly when she pulls away, and she brushes her thumb over your cheek as she lets out the kindest hum, acknowledging your question. “You’re not gonna react weird, sweetheart.”
Momentarily flustered, you shake your head to remember the point that you’d been thinking about. “But I shouldn't cry, imagine how confusing that would be for her— what if she thinks she made me upset?”
“That won’t happen. She cried happy tears when you moved in, remember? She knows what they are,” she says. It’s one of the best memories you have, the nervous look on Abby’s face when she asked you, rambling, “It would be a big change, but not the worst, right? You’d just be a couple doors down the hall. It would be a lot of the same in a lot of ways, just with us.”
After that came the late nights at your apartment, dates hidden behind the excuse of packing, half empty boxes on the floor and Abby stuck to you like glue, a kiss or ten whenever she got too carried away with excitement. A couple weeks later came your clothes in her closet, your favorite blanket on the couch, and Rue’s eyes glimmering with happy tears as she hid her face on your neck and tried to understand her feelings. Then, after a few minutes of patiently rubbing her back, came her little frown of concentration and the way she attentively listened to you and Abby explain that her reaction was normal, that sometimes happiness feels like too much to hold in just a laugh or a dance. “Oh, okay,” she’d said, in this cute proud tone that she gets whenever she learns something new that makes sense to her. It was the sweetest thing. She’s the sweetest thing— and you can’t believe this is your life, that you get to take care of her and hang out and teach her new things to be proud of.
“You think she wants me to be her mom?”
Abby smiles. “You are her mom, baby.”
Rue doesn't say it the next day. You don’t overthink it— couldn't if you tried. It's a nice feeling to be so happy that you don't feel the need to think. She doesn't call you mom that morning, but she runs to the doorway where you’re putting on your shoes to get to work and wraps her arms so tight around your legs that you have to balance yourself with a hand against the wall. Her hair is messy from sleep, her yellow pajama shirt wrinkled, her eyes blinking lazily as she looks up at you and asks, “Back soon?”
“Soon as I can, princess,” you promise, leaning down to kiss her head. What is there to overthink? What more could you possibly need?
You can do this forever, have mornings like this and feel grateful in a way that you didn't know existed until now. You love the way it comes at random times, the way you’re still you, still grumpy when your coffee tastes watery, still a little bad at getting to the train station on time, still learning not to burn the first batch of pancakes. It’s a big change, but not the worst, right? It’s a lot of the same in a lot of ways, except Abby is there at the kitchen kissing your cheek, and a tiny head of blonde hair is peeking from the back of the couch, gummy smile and freckled cheeks, saying, “I like my pancakes like that, mom!”
#abby anderson x reader#abby anderson fic#abby x reader#abby anderson x female!reader#abby anderson fluff#abby anderson headcanons#mom!abby#doctor!abby
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Talk dirty to me
PAIRING | Iron Man!Tony Stark x Journalist!Fem!Reader
WORD COUNT | 5K
SUMMARY | You have been asked to interview and shadow Tony for a few months regarding his research in nanotechnology and his life as Iron Man. During this time, the sexual tension builds quickly between you two, and when you can't stop staring at him while he's working, the tension snaps, and you learn about a new kink you never knew you had.
RATING | Explicit (E)
WARNINGS/TAGS | Age gap, mutual pining, slight insecurities.
SMUT | Porn with plot, use of traffic light system, lots of dirty talk, praise kink, sir kink, size kink, hair pulling, fingering, handjob, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), squirting, cream pie, aftercare
A/N | This one-shot is written based on a request I received from a lovely Anon! From the moment this appeared in my asks, I could not stop thinking about it, and @ccbsrmsf1 and I have been drooling about this since that moment. So dear Anon, if you wish to reveal yourself (if not, I totally understand that too!) I'd love for you to send me a DM so I can thank you personally for your amazing ideas! 🩷
A/N 2.0 | This is proofread by my best friend and biggest supporter on this website, @ccbsrmsf1. I wouldn't be here without you today, and I cannot thank you enough! I love you 3000 🩷
EVENTS
Masterlist | @anyfandomfluffbingo | Journalist!Reader
Masterlist | @multifandom-flash | Grow Old With Me
Banners: Yours truly | Divider: @firefly-graphics | GIF: Source
Main Masterlist | Tony Stark Masterlist
The past three months have been interesting, to say the least. From being asked to interview none other than Iron Man himself about his research on nanotechnology to shadowing him for five months, it is a rollercoaster you never expected to get onto. Still, you do not want to get off because it's too much fun.
But that's not all because, during these months, you and Tony have also been building on the sexual tension that is palpable between the two of you. From semi-innocent flirting to not-so-innocent grinding on the dancefloor after a few drinks, it has all passed the revue, and it is like a rubber band that is about to snap. One more move, and it will snap, leaving both of you to lust after the other like never before.
Today, you're just observing Tony as he's working on his research, which would have been simple enough if it weren't for the fact that he's wearing a skintight shirt that exposes his broad shoulders, muscly, veiny, bulging biceps and forearms. His large, strong hands with long, skilled fingers have been the subject of your wet dreams. Your lip is pulled between your teeth as you look at him.
The shirt is pulled tight over his chest and abdomen, allowing you to drink in every inch of his muscles, which leads you to his narrow waist and thick legs covered in dark jeans that seem to hug his thick bulge and round butt perfectly, making you squeeze your legs together at the sight.
"Are you enjoying yourself over there, Sweets?" Tony asks with a quirked brow, and your eyes snap up to his as a flush appears on your cheeks at the fact you've been caught. You nod shyly, and a mischievous grin dances on Tony's lips as he walks over to where you're sitting on a table, which is the perfect spot to observe what he is doing.
"Did you like what you just saw? I'm sure you did because you've been clenching these delicious thighs and biting that perfect lip the entire time, huh? Don't think I haven't noticed it, Sweets; I can smell your arousal on the other side of the lab," he tells you in a low, rumbling voice that sends shivers down your spine.
"Y-yes, sir," you stammer out, the red color on your cheeks deepening when he stands before you. He moves forward as he places his hands on the table on either side of you, and you can't help but tremble as he's mere inches away from your face.
You accidentally knock something off the table as you shift your body a little to be more comfortable, and the heat on your cheeks now spreads from the tips of your ears down your chest as the embarrassment takes over completely. However, before you can think about it too much, Tony has cupped your face in his large hand, feeling the warmth radiating onto his long, calloused fingers.
"It's okay, Sweets. Nothing to be embarrassed about," he whispers before leaning forward, his lips kissing softly on the corner of your mouth. Your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of the softness of his lips on your face, a shuddering breath leaving your lips.
"A-are you sure?" you ask, and he nods.
"I'm sure. Whatever it is that you broke is nothing that I cannot replace; otherwise, it wouldn't be lying out here on the table," he says, and you can feel yourself already becoming calmer, the tension you were feeling earlier slowly replacing with need at the close proximity between you two.
Tony's hand drops down from your face to your bare thigh as he trails the tips of his fingers to the edge of your skirt, teasing you a little as a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
"You're perfect like this," he whispers in your ear, and you can't suppress the soft moan escaping your lips as he says those words. You have always enjoyed receiving praise, but hearing it from Tony does something to you that you have never considered. It only arouses you further.
"Did you think I wouldn't notice your skirt, Sweets? It barely covers your ass, so it's no wonder I could tell that you want me. You do want me, don't you?" Tony whispers between the kisses from your jaw to your throat until he reaches the sensitive spot beneath your ear.
You moan out a soft yes, and a small smile tugs at the corners of Tony's lips. Hearing that you want him just as much as he wants you has him twitching in his pants. He dares to move his fingers beneath the hem of your skirt. Just far enough to have a little taste of the skin hidden by the denim fabric, yet not enough to give you what you desperately want.
"Good girl," Tony tells you as you spread your thighs slightly, giving him the access you know he's been asking for without actually saying it. The flush on your cheeks returns as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to hide the fact that his praise is making your stomach flip and your skin feel like it's on fire.
Your breath hitches as you feel Tony's finger hook behind the elastic of your panties, allowing it to glide along the seam where your thigh meets your hip before moving away again just before he reaches the place you need him most. And once more, you're clenching around nothing because he loves being a tease.
A slight pout on your face has him chuckling before he leans in and kisses it away with a small peck, a smile taking its place instead when he pulls away. His hands slide under the hem of your shirt before pulling it off and over your head, revealing the light pink lingerie you're wearing underneath.
"This color looks beautiful on you, Sweets, but I know for sure it'll look even better on the floor," he says teasingly as he unclasps it, the fabric sliding down your arms and onto the floor effortlessly. His breath hitches in his throat as he sees what you've been hiding all this time, as two small, silver rings are adorning your nipples.
"Fuck," he whispers as he keeps staring for just a second too long, the blood in his body rushing to his cock at a rapid pace now that he notices them. Maybe you're not as innocent as he may have thought you to be, and he's practically drooling at the sight in front of him.
When he finally snaps back to reality, he grabs both your breasts, kneading them softly as he revels in the soft moans you let out. He cannot get enough of hearing them, though his ultimate goal is to have you screaming his name as loud as you possibly can, no matter who can hear it.
"Who would have thought that someone as sweet as you has her nipples pierced, hm? I bet they're nice and sensitive," he says as he softly tugs on the rings before playing with your nipples, your head falling back as the pleasure is increasingly growing. Tony takes the opportunity to suck some bruises onto your neck where it meets your shoulder, your fingers lacing into his hair.
Soft moans keep tumbling from your lips as the two of you stay like this for a while. Tony's lips on your neck have the arousal pooling in your panties again, and you're pretty sure there's a small puddle on the table where you're sitting at this point. From the teasing to the way he plays with your nipples and the praise he gives you, he is doing a damn good job of having you melt into a puddle.
"S-sir," you moan out eventually, the ache between your legs too much to handle at this point. Your clit is throbbing in anticipation as he pulls away, his gaze locking onto yours. The brown of his eyes is almost completely gone as lust has taken over.
"What's on your mind, Sweets?" Tony says sweetly, and you slip into the fuzzy headspace you always enjoy getting lost in.
"I need you," you whisper almost inaudibly, your eyes locked in a heated, lustful gaze.
"Yeah? Do you need Sir to play with that cute button between your legs? Or do you want me to slip my fingers in that undoubtedly tight, warm, and dripping pussy of yours?" he asks, and your eyes flutter closed at the thought of his fingers inside you, bringing you to your orgasm.
"Both," you tell him, and Tony can handle only so much before his restraint snaps. His fingers glide past your bare stomach down to your skirt, which has ridden up entirely from the rocking motions of your hips.
"What's your color, Sweets?" he asks, and your eyes slowly open before finding his. You may never have discussed the traffic light system with him before, but you still need to be aware of what he's talking about, and it gives you a warm sense of security.
"So, SO fucking green," you tell him with your eyes half-lidded, and Tony can't help but feel proud at the way you are already so fucked out, despite him barely touching you. It's a sight he knows he will never get enough of.
"Good girl," he says before pulling down your panties, the soaked fabric being put in the back pocket of his jeans to save for later. A soft moan slips past your lips again, and Tony can't stop reveling in the fact that you have a huge praise kink. He already knows he will make good use of that newfound knowledge.
"Does my girl like to be praised?" he asks, his fingers leisurely gliding through your folds to gather the slick between them, and he can tell you're increasingly getting wetter with his question. Your hands fly to his hair as he finds your clit, and you pull him close before moaning a yes into his ear.
His cock twitches in his pants at the way you're melting into a puddle under his touch, and he's reveling in every little moan and whimper slipping past your beautiful, soft, pink lips. The way the pad of his finger feels against your sensitive clit have you jolting each time they make contact, and you can't stop pulling on his dark brown locks as the pleasure inside you keeps building and building.
Almost as if he can sense it, Tony slips a finger into your pussy, being careful not to hurt you as he slides it in. Your head falls back as the pleasure takes over your body; the whimpers and moans from your lips only intensify when your orgasm creeps closer and closer until it washes over you with a scream of his name.
"That's it, Sweets, doing so well for me! You look fucking gorgeous when you cum," he groans out as you tremble, his fingers now making the filthiest, most delicious squelches as your arousal only grows. His fingers are like magic, and you only want more.
"Yeah?" you ask shyly when Tony's worked you through your orgasm, ensuring you don't crash from your high all of a sudden. A blush is adorning your face at the praise Tony has given you, and you can't stop yourself from wanting more of it and more of him.
"Fuck yes, 's the prettiest fuckin' sight I've ever seen, Sweets. Now I can't wait to see what you look like when you cum on my cock," he tells you, and the color on your cheeks deepens at the thought of Tony stretching you on his cock.
"Let's find out then, shall we?" you ask playfully, and Tony cannot say no to an offer like that. When you offer yourself up on a silver platter like that, he will definitely take his share of you. It would be stupid to deny himself something he so desperately wants, after all.
Before you know it, Tony is completely bare, and you can't stop staring at the monster of a cock that is standing at attention between his legs. The tip is already leaking pre-cum, and the blue veins running from the tip down his shaft don't go unnoticed by you, either. Finishing that with the way his balls look as they hang perfectly underneath it, and you know you're in love. With him. With his cock. With everything.
"Do you like what you see? If you want, you can give it a little touch first; it won't bite," Tony says as he steps closer, and you bite your lip as his cock bobs up and down with every step. You reach out on instinct, and you gasp at the way your hand can barely close around his girth.
"Hmm, look at that, Sweets. It's so big you can barely hold it all; are you sure it will all fit inside that tight pussy?" he teases you, and you nod immediately as you look up at him, your eyes torn away from his cock for the first time since he revealed it. Your hand moves up and down as he comes to stand between your legs, soft groans leaving his chest as you do so.
"God, you're perfect. Fuckin' perfect," he grits out as he thrusts carefully into your hand, trying not to stimulate himself too much before he cums without having even felt the warmth of your pussy yet. As he keeps praising you, your pussy clenches around nothing as you're aching for his cock to be put inside you, to slide home just the way you both want.
He can feel himself getting dangerously close to the edge, and before it's too late, he grips your wrist carefully, stopping your movements. You look up at him with concern, but he's quick to ease your mind.
"I was about to cum, Sweets, 'n' I don't want to yet," he tells you, and you nod. You let go of his cock, instead letting your hand dip down to play with his balls, which was a genius move as he moans loudly as you give them a gentle squeeze. He's very sensitive there, and you're dripping onto the table at the thought that it's you who does that to him.
"God, you're doin' so well for me, Sweets. Play with my balls like that; j-just roll 'em a bit," he whispers, and you do as he asks, pride swelling in your chest at his words. His cock throbs each time you squeeze them gently, rolling them in your hand, which barely fits around them. Even his balls are big in your hand, and Tony cannot get enough of the sight.
"That's enough for now," he tells you gently, and you let them go, already missing their weight in your hand. Despite their size, they were surprisingly comfortable in your hand, which is something you would never have thought.
As you wait for Tony to make the next move, he lifts his hand to tilt your head back a little, his finger touching your chin ever so slightly.
"I want you to know that if we continue, you can tell me to stop whenever you want. You can say yellow if you're uncomfortable and need to switch positions or red if you must stop altogether. Do you understand that?" Tony asks, and the care in his voice has your heart beat faster.
"Yes, sir," you whisper, and Tony rewards you with a small, soft kiss on your lips. It's not enough to get lost in, but enough to leave you wanting more, which is what he was going for.
"What's your color now?"
"Green, Sir. Very green," you tell him, and he nods. There are no signs of discomfort on your face, and Tony gives you a slight smirk as he grabs his cock this time, pumping it a few times before pulling you to the edge of the table and dragging his cock through your folds a few times. An obscenely loud moan escapes your lips as his tip rubs over your sensitive clit, and Tony feels himself throbbing in his hand.
"Lean back for me, Sweets," he tells you, and you do as he asks. The sight that unfolds has Tony squeezing himself at the base of his cock to ensure he doesn't cum yet. Your body looks like it's glowing, and your nipple piercings glisten beautifully in the lights of his lab, making him throb in his hand.
A groan escapes his lips as he lines himself up with your entrance, the warmth of your body already luring him in. The moment he pushes in, your soft, velvet walls envelop his tip, and he knows he's a goner, and he never wants to let you go. You're his.
"Fuck, you're squeezing me like a fuckin' slut; I can barely slide my cock in when you do that!" Tony groans out as you let out a string of broken moans at his words, your nails scratching his back to ground yourself as the pleasure builds quickly. He slowly rocks back and forth, your pussy stretching gradually around his girth.
"Oh, you like it when I talk dirty, don't you? When I call you out for what you are, just a slut who wants to be filled by my cock," Tony says with a mischievous smirk. As the words sink in with you, you let out a long, deep moan, unable to form a coherent thought at this point, but you're feeling so good that all you can do is let the pleasure take over now.
When he's about halfway in, he tears his gaze from his cock, sliding in and out of you to have a look at the way you're looking now. Eyes half-lidded and completely dark with lust, a flush on your cheeks, and your mouth slightly parted— a perfect sight for Tony to enjoy.
"Look at me, Sweets; look in my eyes and answer me. Does my filthy slut like it when Sir talks dirty to her? When I tell you that I'm about to fuck you dumb until you're nothing but a cockdrunk mess for me?" he asks you, and all you can do is nod right now. His words are nestling deep into your brain, and your nipples pebble at the thoughts he's planting.
"You're perfect for me, Sweets. Doin' so well for me right now," he then praises you, and a flush appears on your cheeks from the sudden change in tone. He keeps carefully sliding in deeper, ensuring you have enough time to adjust to his length and girth as he does.
"Color?" he asks when a soft whimper suddenly tumbles from your lips. The last thing he wants is to cause you discomfort, and he will ensure you are given the chance to speak up if needed. Even though it takes you quite a long moment to gather your thoughts, you finally manage to tell him you're good to go.
"M so fucking green," you tell him with a sudden boost of confidence, and his mouth curls into a knowing smile. Now that he's satisfied with your answer, he starts to thrust in deeper, and the second he hits your sweet spot, your head falls back, and you moan loudly, your nipples even perking up at the sensation.
"Hmm, does my girl like it when Sir is this fucking deep? I bet you do, huh?" he asks, and you nod in response. It feels incredible, and you want more of it. You want Tony to stretch you and fuck you until you can't walk anymore. You want all of that and more.
"Y-yes!" you tell him, and he almost pulls out before slamming his cock deep into you, pulling the most delicious scream for your chest as you can't hold it back.
"Scream for me, scream my fucking name as I fuck you," Tony says through gritted teeth. He thrusts his cock deeper into you, and you are sure you can almost feel him in your throat with how deep he fucks you. He hooks his hands behind your knees before lifting them and practically folding you in half on the table.
When you're comfortable in your new position, he leans in, pressing his chest against yours and placing your ankles on his shoulders. In this position, he can truly fuck you deep and hard, and your back arches against him as the pleasure inside you builds even higher this way.
"God, look at you; you like being bent in half, don't you? I can just put you in whichever position and fuck you however I want, can't I?" he says, but you're too far gone even to realize what he's saying. The moans that are coming out are practically endless. Despite that, he can feel you gripping onto his cock like a vice, sucking him deeper with each thrust.
"My little slut enjoys it when I fuck her stupid, huh? Yeah, that's why you're moaning for me. And here I thought you were just an innocent little girl. Oh no, you're a fucking slut who likes to be told what to do, aren't you?" he asks, the table now shaking and more items falling off from the intense rocking motions.
"Y-yes! M your slut!" is all you can bring out as he sets a pace that has you seeing stars. The way his balls smack against your ass makes a sound that has you blushing intensely, and the squelching sound your pussy makes with every thrust has you only getting wetter.
"Can't wait to stuff you full with my cum, then watch it drip out before I fuck it right back in with my cock," he tells you, and it makes you feel like you're floating as it sets your veins on fire at the same time, you have never felt this dirty yet so good at the same time.
"Yes! Please fuck your cum in me," you moan out before pulling him towards you by his hair, your lips colliding in a bruising kiss, your tongues fighting for dominance. The combination of everything together has you moaning into his mouth as he keeps fucking you, and before you know it, you're cumming hard.
With a scream of his name, you squirt all over his cock, legs, and the floor, your legs trembling uncontrollably and your vision going white around the edges for a moment. Tony keeps praising you as he fucks you through it, and you're clenching down on his cock as you cum, making him unable to hold out any longer as well.
"Yes, yes, YES! Oh god, you fucking squirted like a perfect girl! I can't believe how lucky I am right now, Sweets! Getting squirted on by my girl feels so fucking amazing!" he pants out, and it does not go unnoticed by you that he calls you his girl.
"M yours, m all yours, Tony," you say between ragged breaths, and with those words, he has reached his orgasm as well, as he shoots every last drop of his cum into your tight heat. He can't stop moaning your name over and over again as he nuzzles his face into your neck, needing to have you as close as physically possible.
"You're absolutely amazing, Sweets—an amazing woman, an amazing journalist, and, above all, my amazing girl. Because I'm not letting you go after this," he whispers against your neck, and you agree as you wrap your hands around his neck.
"All yours," you tell him. The two of you stay like that for a few more moments before Tony has to pull out, his cock too sensitive to remain inside you any longer.
"Shall we take a bath together?" he offers, and you nod. After throwing on Tony's t-shirt, which is about three or four sizes too large and practically a dress on you, he walks you to the elevator that goes right to his penthouse. He just pulled on his jeans without bothering to button them; he'll be pulling them off shortly anyway.
Thankfully, the bath doesn't take long to be drawn and ready. You let out a soft groan as you sink in the hot water, allowing your sore muscles to relax. Tony follows you soon after, having gotten two bottles of water and some fruit to enjoy while you're in the bath.
"Y'know, I was trying to be gentle with you, but as soon as I figured out you're just a filthy slut like me, I couldn't hold back," he whispers in your ear as you're straddling his lap, his cock trapped between your bodies. A lopsided grin lies on his lips as he looks at the blush developing on your cheeks, and he wants to make you blush even more because it has quickly become his favorite color.
Instead of answering, you lean forward to capture his lips with yours as your fingers glide into his messy curls to pull him closer. The kiss starts slow as you discover the feeling of his lips sliding over yours, but as time goes on, your tongues begin to mingle, too. The taste of something exciting and new invades all your senses, and you're hooked, only wanting more of him and how he makes you feel.
When you finally pull away, there's a smile on your face, but Tony can tell it's not reaching your eyes. The smile he's been craving to see isn't fully there, and his brows are furrowed at the realization.
"What's on your mind, Sweet Girl?" Tony asks, and you drop your gaze as the embarrassment replaces the butterflies that were going crazy in your stomach.
"S nothing, Tony," you whisper, but he knows that's not true. If it has you feeling like this, there is probably something wrong, and he wants to learn all about it so he can fix it, no matter what he would have to do for you. He'd fly to the moon and back if that's what you wanted him to do, no questions asked.
"I may not have known you long, but your mood doesn't turn from one end to the other without a reason. I respect it if you don't want to talk about it, but I also think it will make you feel better if you do," Tony tells you before he gives a soft kiss on your forehead.
With a soft sigh, you plant your hands on both sides of his arc reactor, and the slight hum coming from it makes you feel a little more at ease. It's barely noticeable, but it's enough to calm your nerves, and you decide to tell him what's exactly on your mind. When your eyes lock onto him, you can feel tears burning at the corners of them, a bit afraid of what his response will be.
"I-Is this just a one-time thing? Because if it is, I'd like to know now so I can prepare myself for the heartbreak later," you whisper, the tears spilling over your cheeks. You've been through this too many times to count, and you do not want to be on the receiving end of yet another rejection.
"What? Of course not, Sweets. When I told you you're mine earlier, I meant it. I mean it! We've built a connection over the past three months that I have not felt with anyone in a long time, and I definitely do not consider this a one-time thing. I'm so fuckin' in love with you, I would be crazy to let you go now," he says, and your eyes grow wide as saucers at his confession.
"Y-you're in love with me?" you stammer, the butterflies in your stomach immediately returning at his confession.
"I am, Sweets. I've never met anyone as smart, caring, and sweet as you. And you're very easy on the eyes, too," he says with a wink, making you smile.
"I wouldn't have had sex with you if I didn't think it would go anywhere after today, Baby. You're too special for me to let go, and I want to explore whatever this is between us. But most of all, I'd like to kiss you right now because these lips have been calling my name the entire time," he says as he leans in, capturing your mouth with his.
When you pull away, you give him a soft smile before nuzzling your face into his neck, his arms wrapped around your waist as he pulls you closer until you doze off for a short nap. When you wake up, Tony wipes some hair out of your face, and you're met with a gentle smile on his face.
"How're you feeling, Sweets?" Tony asks before popping a raspberry in his mouth, the sweet yet tangy taste invading his mouth as he listens to what you have to say.
"Good. Tired- but good," you tell him with a dopey smile. You're fully relaxed as you sit in the bath with the man you've fallen in love with. And now that you're his, life couldn't be any better.
"I'm glad. And for the record, I meant what I said earlier. I'm not letting you go after this, especially after I've gotten my slice of heaven earlier," he tells you, and you let yourself melt against his body.
"I know, and I don't want to go, Tony. I want to stay in our slice of heaven for as long as you'll have me," you tell him, sealing the deal with a soft, gentle kiss. After that, you let out a small sigh of relief before Tony hand-feeds you more fruits, and you've never been happier in your life than you are now.
What started as nothing more than another job for you has developed into a new chapter of your life, and you're excited to see where this story will go from here on out.
#anyfandomfluffbingo#multifandom-flash#tony stark#tony stark fanfiction#tony stark fanfic#tony stark one shot#tony stark request#tony stark imagine#tony stark x female reader#tony stark x reader#tony stark x y/n#tony stark fluff#tony stark smut#iron man#iron man fanfiction#iron man fanfic#iron man one shot#iron man request#iron man imagine#iron man x female reader#iron man x reader#iron man x y/n#iron man fluff#iron man smut
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helloo don’t mind me!! just here to request the prompt ‘that little panicked reach for them if they trip ever so slightly’ with oscar (i love him i fear) <33
ohhh oscar piastri my fav polite cat <3 thank you sm for sending this in darling ,, hope you like it <3
lazy mornings are a rarity for you and oscar. if oscar doesn't have a team meeting at the break of dawn, you have a morning class or an early shift, or another commitment that requires one of you to rush out of the house before the sun has fully risen.
today, though, you're lucky. neither you nor oscar have anywhere to be, your only plans for the day being to spend as much time together as physically possible and soak up every drop of domestic bliss that you can.
making breakfast together, of course, falls under the umbrella of your designated 'oscar time', as you've so lovingly taken to calling it. and while oscar's desire to follow his meal plan may be strong, but his love for home-made pancakes and chopped fruit is far, far stronger.
the batter is fairly easy to whip up, your half-asleep brain thanking you for the lack of thinking necessary to make your breakfast.
oscar is tasked with manning the stove while you begin to prepare the fruit. though the boy claims he’s an expert at flipping the pancakes, you expect to spend five minutes after eating scraping batter off of the hob. still, his earnestness is nothing but endearing.
with a box of strawberries in hand, you begin to make your way back over to the counter. somehow, the four steps that make up your journey prove too complicated, and you stumble a little as you walk. it's nothing serious; just enough to make you swear under your breath as you lose your footing, yet you remain upright.
the pancake is abandoned, and oscar instantly has a hand on your waist to steady you, usually neutral face painted with an expression of disbelief. you know formula one drivers are expected to have fast reflexes, but it’s as though oscar has trained himself to respond to anything pertaining to you at an almost superhuman speed.
his brows are furrowed, and you want to lean forward and press a kiss against the space between them in order to get him to relax.
"there's no way. you did not just trip over air, y/n."
"sorry. i was just falling for you," you respond in a sing-song tone, flashing oscar the widest, proudest grin you can muster.
silence.
"ugh," he groans, nose scrunched in faux disgust. "you're so cheesy."
"and you love it," you hum, playfully tapping the flushed tip of his nose with a teasing smile.
"yeah, yeah, i'll just let you fall next time, darling" oscar grumbles, though the corner of his mouth is quirked up into a fond smile. "i'm sure the cold kitchen tiles'll humble you a little.”
your jaw drops in shock, and as you search for a witty retort, your eyes land on oscar’s pancake. still wrapped up in his act of chivalry, eyes not having left your frame yet, your boyfriend fails to notice his culinary masterpiece is quickly overcooking.
you sniff once, then once again, plastering a look of confusion onto your face before you speak.
“do you smell burning?”
“fuck!”
#.° ༘🗝️⋆₊ becca’s drabbles#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri x y/n#oscar piastri fic#oscar piastri fluff#oscar piastri blurb#oscar piastri drabble#f1 x reader#f1 x you#formula one x reader#formula one x you
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Middle-Class Seats, First-Class Fun pt. 2*
Summary: The sequel to Middle-Class Seats, First-Class Fun
You find yourself sat next to the Harry Styles on a plane.
And what better way to get to know each other than a quick induction into the Mile High Club?
Word Count: 2.1k
(Thank you for letting me spam you guys for one whole year🥹💞 I love you!!!!!)
*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞 You are so much more important!*
“Hi, Stranger.”
Harry grins as he pulls the small door shut, secluding the two of you in the world’s smallest bathroom. “Hi.”
“Gonna be honest, I didn’t expect you to show,” you admit.
“Oh?” His arms cross as he takes a step closer, effectively closing the only gap between you. “And what about our earlier conversation suggested I wouldn’t?”
“Well, maybe the fact that you’re all talk and no game,” you retort, eyebrow raised as you look up at him. “Or the fact that you don’t seem like the quick-airplane-bathroom-fuck type.”
“I have a song about eating pussy, is that not enough?” he teases, a smirk dancing across his lips. “I feel like that should solidify my case.”
“Yeah, you’d think…but no.” Your eyes trail across his jaw, drawn to the sharp curve, intrigued by the subtle beauty. “Maybe if this were the first-class bathroom. Which would make a lot more sense for you.”
“What’s wrong with coach?”
“Nothing. When you’re poor. Which you’re not.”
“And that has to do with us fucking…how?”
You hesitate, mouth clamping shut. “I…don’t know.”
Nodding with an amused grin, he reaches out to place his hand on the small sink and lean forward, trapping you to the wall. “I think you’re nervous.”
“Well no shit, Sherlock.”
He hums, kind eyes helping to relax you. “Guess we’re both more talk than game.”
And maybe you are. Maybe this is nothing more than you calling his bluff. Or calling your own. Maybe this was you getting swept up in the idea of Harry Styles. The man, the myth, the legend. Maybe you just wanted to prove to yourself that you could.
Either way, despite the nerves, you’re oddly tantalized by the idea. Wanting to seize the moment, the opportunity that most people would kill for.
So, you surge forward, and press your lips to his.
It’s a hesitant kiss. On both ends. The first few seconds a tad awkward as you work to wrap your heads around how you got here. How you really feel about it.
And then…something changes.
He steps closer, straightening up to deepen the kiss, and you nearly wilt when his large hand slips around the back of your neck to keep you against him.
Things suddenly feel effortless. Practiced yet relaxed. Mouths and tongues moving together like they were always meant to. Molding seamlessly until all of your air belongs to him.
His other hand finds a home on your hip, pushing you against the small bathroom wall while his knee takes its place between your thighs.
And when he finally pulls back to rest his forehead against yours, it feels as though everything makes sense.
“We can go back to our seats,” he whispers, giving you an out.
But you don’t want an out.
“No,” you murmur, fingers tangling in the shirt on his chest. “No, you promised to make me scream your name. Can’t pussy out on me now.”
The smirk returns as he brushes his thumb along your cheek. “So I did. But I guess it depends on which name you call me by.”
Your breath hitches.
“You can call me Harry,” he begins softly, dipping back down to ghost his lips across yours, “or you can call me Daddy.”
And discovering that Harry Styles has a Daddy kink makes more sense than it should, and you have to grin as you press your mouth to his.
“Okay, Daddy,” you agree, just to watch him swallow. “Then why don’t you make good on your promise to fuck me?”
You watch the most beautifully dark expression flash across his face before he’s grabbing onto your waist to spin you around.
Your cheek is pressed to the wall while those large hands that have been taunting you for the past half hour begin to tease you again. Crawling up the inside of your thigh until he can grab onto the waistband of your jeans and yank the material down your legs.
“Just so you know,” he grunts in between the rustling of his belt, “I’m normally pro-foreplay. But I figure we don’t exactly have the time right now.”
“I know,” you agree. “It’s fine.”
He reaches around your hip to slide his palm down your cunt, and you sigh when you feel him cup you in his hand.
“What’s this?” he hums, rather sadistically as his nose brushes against your cheek. “Guess I didn’t need to work you up, anyhow. Seems you’re already dripping for me.”
Your lashes flutter as he kneads your pussy for a moment before he lets go to take hold of his cock.
“So, what’s it gonna be, angel?” he whispers, dragging the tip through your throbbing folds just to make you whimper. “You gonna be loud for me? Or are you gonna be quiet?”
More of a rhetorical question, you figure, because the answer is given to him when he pushes in, and you moan fervently.
He chuckles from behind you before it melts into some sort of delicious grunt. “That’s it. So fucking tight, darling. Take it, just like that.”
He pulls out, giving you only a second of reprieve before pushing back in. Stretching you a little more as he drives himself deeper into your cunt.
Your lip flies between your teeth as you swallow a string of curses and whines, desperate to feel him in every way possible.
“You all right?” he calls, and you feel his fingers gently squeezing your hip for reassurance.
It makes you smile. “Yeah,” you say back, nails scratching down the wall. “Go. Keep going.”
He obliges, working himself in at a quicker pace, and you see him watching out of your peripheral.
He seems mesmerized by the way his cock disappears into you. Addicted to the sounds now beginning to echo around the small space. Mixing in beautifully with his soft pants and your anguished whimpers.
“S’a good girl,” he murmurs beneath his breath, almost as if it wasn’t meant for you. “Fucking taking me so well, look at you. Pretty pussy just stretching for me. Likes having Daddy’s cock, doesn’t she?”
And maybe you shouldn’t be surprised by the filth coming from his mouth, but you are, and it makes you clench until you’re both gasping.
“Shit, angel,” he groans, burying himself a little deeper as you keen. “Like it when I talk to you like that, hm? Not so vanilla now, yeah?”
You want to thank your lucky stars for that damn book that led you both to this moment, nodding quickly as you squirm back against him. “Yes, Daddy—”
He pushes in to the hilt, overcome by the pleasure your words provide. His chest presses to your back, and instantly, you reach over your shoulder to grab onto his curls. Needing to hold him in some way.
“Fuck,” you sigh, vision hazy as your body works to accommodate him. “Okay go. Go, Harry, go.”
He smiles at the use of his name, and it does something strange to the butterflies already fluttering in your stomach.
“Okay,” he agrees, pulling back and readjusting his grip on your waist to keep you steady. “Be good, yeah?”
The faster pace begins. Hard thrusts that nearly knock the wind from your lungs as your body shakes with each snap of his hips into yours.
It’s oddly satiating. Perfectly full and teasingly relentless. Quick fucks aren’t normally your forte, but this? With Harry? In the world’s tiniest bathroom?
Euphoria.
“Fucking squeezing me, darling, shit,” he exhales, gripping you tight in his hand. “Pretty little pussy looks so good clenching around my cock. Like it, angel, don’t you? Like letting me fuck your sweet cunt the way you’ve been needing?”
And you don’t know how he knows you’ve been so desperate, but he does, and it makes you mewl as you drag your nails down his scalp.
“Oh, I know,” he coos but it’s dark. “Can just tell. So fucking cock drunk. Desperate for anything I’ll give you. Even let a stranger fuck you, hm? Let me take care of you the way you deserve?”
“Yes,” you breathe, mindlessly reaching back for his other hand. Once you find it, you intertwine his fingers with yours and drag his palm up toward your neck. Placing it against your throat until he seems to get the hint.
He says nothing, simply squeezes you in his grip. Until the corners of your vision get fuzzy, and the small bathroom gets smaller.
“That’s it,” he hums, almost as if luring you into the darkness. “Let go for me, baby girl. Just like that. Daddy’s got you.”
Everything is heightened. Every sense, every second. You can feel his facial hair rubbing against your cheek. Can feel the calloused tips of his fingers cementing to your exposed skin. Can taste the drink he had on your tongue.
There’s a knock on the door. A hard tap, and Harry’s pace doesn’t falter for even a moment as he calls, “Fucking occupied,” before slamming back into you.
The noise you make is loud enough to be heard by whoever was on the other side. Perhaps his intention, and it makes your pussy clench once more at the thought.
“Bet you’d look fucking perfect on your knees,” he continues, unrelenting. “With my cock down your throat. Fucking drooling for me. And you’d take me, wouldn’t you? Take my cock like a good girl. Make me proud.”
The suggestion is exciting. The image in your head of you looking up at the glorious stranger from your place on the floor. Getting to feel him on your tongue. Down your throat. Anywhere he’ll have you.
You bet he likes to see his cum painted across a partner’s skin. Likes to run his fingers through it. His tongue. Collect it and taste it before spitting it into their mouths.
Your entire body shudders from the mental picture and even if Harry doesn’t know what garnered this response, he seems pleased with it. Tugging on you tighter until you’re practically sitting on him.
You’re running out of time. Running out of willpower, and he releases your throat to find your clit. The first time he’s truly touched it, and the sensation that follows nearly kills you.
You hadn’t anticipated being so sensitive, but you are, and it’s apparent to you both from the way you jolt when he pinches you.
“Oh?” He’s chuckling again, entertained by your reaction. “S’that all it takes then? Poor little cunt just needs some extra attention?”
He presses into you and begins to rub small, hard circles along the delicate nerves. Ignoring your cries and pleas for more.
Instead, his foot kicks your legs further apart, and his mouth attaches to your neck. Nipping just below your ear as he whispers, “Bet you taste fucking divine, hm? Bet I could write a whole song about the way this pussy tastes.”
He lets go just to bring his hand to his mouth. Sucking on the soaked digits and groaning in your ear.
A shiver rolls down your spine before he drags his saliva coated fingers back to your clit. “So fucking sweet, angel. But you already knew that, didn’t you? S’why you were teasing me all fucking day. Cause you knew I’d get addicted to you.”
You’re so close to release, you can see it. Can actually see the blinding stars barreling toward you like meteors.
“And what if I am, huh?” He goes faster. Gets sloppier. Needing to get you both there. “What if I’m fucking addicted to you now? What if I can’t go without the taste of you?”
“Have it,” you sough, rolling your hips back against his cock. “Have me, Harry, please—”
“I will,” he growls, and you feel his cock twitch the closer he gets. “Fucking will, angel. Need you to come for me, yeah? Come for Daddy. Let me feel you around me, darling. Right fucking now—”
Everything is a blur. Maybe he comes first, maybe you do. It all melds together until it’s one, long string of orgasms and pleasure.
He doesn’t let you go for quite some time. Pushing you to the very brink, making sure it goes as far as it can. Even after you’ve come down and are squirming away from the ministrations to your clit.
The sadistic need to make sure you’re ruined is evident, and he only stops when you begin to collapse in his hold.
“Okay, easy, angel, easy,” he whispers, grasping onto your hips to keep you upright. “You’re all right, yeah? You okay?”
You nod weakly as you catch your breath, and he takes this as a good sign. Allowing you to stand on your own when you’re ready.
But he doesn’t go far. He bends down and pulls your jeans back up. Makes sure you’re all right.
You notice he purposefully leaves the mess between your thighs, and when you shoot him a questioning eyebrow, his only response is, “For later.”
Which you don’t mind at all.
I KNOW, I KNOW IT'S BEEN FOREVER!!!! I'M SO SORRY BUT THANK YOU FOR STICKING WITH ME AND BEING SO NICE, ILY ALL 😭💞💞💞
Previous Part:
~ Middle-Class Seats, First-Class Fun
~ Other Harry Blurbs
~ Full Masterlist
Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282
I'm also tagging you guys from the first part just in case, but if you've already moved on, I can absolutely understand 😭💞: @blackbookwhore @nellylayhoohoo @22fallenangel22 @watercolorskyy @ilovedilfs32 @nicodoesntexist @lelenikki @happypoptart
#harry#harry styles#harry edward styles#harry styles imagine#harry styles blurb#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fan#harry styles smut#harry styles x you#harry styles x reader#smut#harry styles one shot
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I don't know if this has been done yet but...can I request Yandere!Jax f_cking the reader into submission?! With like.. possession and obsessive behaviors? I don't normally ask for stuff like this so feel free to ignore, if it doesn't tickle your fancy UwU
I'm debating on making this into a little yandere!jax series hmm...
anyways enjoy!
tags: afab!reader x jax , choking, light oral, rough sex, possessive jax, cream pie.
Jax's eye twitched.
He was getting fed up with you, ever since you arrived here you've been acting like you run the damn place. That was his job.
Being stuck on his boat with you and the others wasn't making this ANY better. And it wasn't a very big boat, just a small speed boat big enough to fit everyone. Just barely.
For context, Caine sent you all off on another adventure, find the treasure before these nasty pirates do and blah blah blah whatever.
"Just hand over the map wouldja?" Jax extended his hand, still overly accustomed to getting his way.
"Yeah, and who put you in charge anyways little bunny??" You rolled up the map and poked the side of his head with it a few times before he rolled his eyes and gripped your arm, yanking you towards him.
"Watch it, doll face. Oh, and don't go running ta' Caine when your hand goes missin." He smirked and you jerked away from him.
"Wh.. Whatever just let me find our way to this stupid treasure so we can get out of here!"
Jax raised his hands in his defense, "Jeez when did women become so hostile, so much for docile and loving.."
"Jax I swear to god I'll shove your ass off this boat and make you swim back!"
"Oh yeah? Do it, .. I dare you." He stood up , making the boat rock a little and you followed suit. Gritting your teeth at his boldness.
Unfortunately your height made you look less intimidating, only reaching just beneath his shoulders.
"I'm going to wipe that stupid grin off of your face!" You basically tackled him and ... well, in the end you both fell over board.
Flash forward a few moments later and you both were soaked, sitting with your arms crossed like children as pomni and ragatha took over the map and guiding the boat.
"I hope you know your washing my clothes when we get back, toots."
You scoffed, "In your dreams."
The adventure wrapped up nicely, but you and Jax both opted out of the dinner to instead go dry yourselves off.
There was one problem though.. Jax passed his room and continued to follow you to yours.
"Just what do you think your doing?"
"You thought I was jokin' these clothes need quite the washing. You can't expect me to do it myself can ya?" He smirked, watching your face ball up as he belittled you right to your face.
"Buzz off, Jax I'm not doing your damn laundry."
You tried to rush into your room and slam the door but his foot caught it before you could, he pushed the door open without any regards to your safety causing the door to fly wide and open and you to fall onto your ass.
"Jax, you assh—" You looked up , still frazzled from falling, and came almost face to face with his crotch. He was still wet. Thus, his clothes were clinging to the large imprint in between his legs.
"See something ya like motor mouth?" He grinned and squats in front of you, causing you to hurry and scurry backward.
Your face was on fire.
"N.. No, just— would you help me up and get some dry clothes on!?"
"You're one to talk. it looks like your body doesn't like it when you lie to me." He rested his cheek on his palm, head tilting as he stared at your chest. Unfortunately, your clothes were sticking to your skin , and your nipples stiffened against the fabric, making it all too obvious that you were having more than innocent thoughts about him right now.
"Th.. That doesn't mean anything! I'm obviously cold!"
"Uh huh, keep telling yourself that.. what's the deal anyways, scared I'll show you the time of your life?"
You laughed obnoxiously loud, "Yeah, I'd like to see you try!" Oh, that probably sounded like an open invitation, didn't it— "Ah..!" Suddenly, you were falling backward, but you caught yourself by your elbows.
He was yanking your pants off, which wasn't easy considering that they were still very wet, your eyes darted from your pants to his crotch again, which was growing in size. You swallowed.
"W.. Wait, wait you prick!" You tried to sound more intimidating but it sounded like a helpless plea.
He sighed, "What now? You aren't chickening out, are ya?" He hoped not , he couldn't lose this chance now. This was just too good.. seeing you like this all scared and nervous it was doing something to him.
"O.. Of course not, I can do it myself.." He hummed in amusement, watching you with that shit eating grin.
Fuckfuckfuckfuck, what had you gotten yourself into? Even back in the human world, you only had sex like.. twice! And that was almost a year ago. But there was no way in hell you were telling him that.
You finally got the damn pants, .. and underwear off, still keeping your knees locked together.
"Good girl, so you can play nice." He grinned , your expression and sputtering made it clear that you were caught off guard by his praise. Too bad he doesn't plan on being nice himself from here on out.
He yanked you by your hips and immediately maneuvered your legs apart, he dove face first in between your legs and started lapping at your cunt without warning. His tongue was rough, long and warm.
The tip of his tongue nudged at your entrance. He was drunk on your taste already. Hell, if he'd give this up to anyone else.
You scrambled, but he was easily overpowering you, "J.. Jax, you.. bastard s.. staa..." You whined and tried to push his head away.
Clearly irritated he sat up and grabbed both your hands within his much larger ones, "Quit movin' or ill just fuck you without any prep, alright sweetheart?"
You stiffened up, fuck you can't let him win again. You puffed out your chest, which earned another grin from him. "S.. So what? I can take it, you think .. you think I'm scared or something?" You tried to challenge him, wondering if he'd call your bluff.
"Oh? Fine by me." He started to remove his overalls. Your heart was racing , breathe caught in your throat as his thick shaft flopped free from its confines, he was already lining it up with your cunt. "J.. Just do it! You scare—"
He gripped the fat of your thighs before he rammed into you, knocking the wind out of you. "Hn.. Hha—"
"What happened to all that talk, huh? .. fuck you're tight." He hunched over you and started to thrust into your warm cunt , slow and steady but you felt so full. It was definitely the lack of prep but you couldn't help but moan and whine in his ear as the painful drag of his cock made you feel absolutely dizzy.
"Hmm? Is this all ya needed, doll face? Some cock to calm ya down?" He chuckled and sharply thrusted against that spongy spot inside of you, causing you to yelp and wriggle beneath him.
"S.. Shut.. up.. hha.. fuck.." You sounded pathetic beneath, "c.. can't you do better than this?" Oh, you were digging your own grave here.
"Heh." He propped up your legs, your ankles nearly touching your ears. "Don't say I didn't warn ya, babe." His hips began to piston into your cunt which made a lewd wet and slapping sound, you were beyond aroused, juices coating his cock effortlessly. "Fuck, there we go.." He moaned into your ear.
You could hardly speak, gripping at his back as he relentlessly attacked your cervix with the tip of his cock. "pl.. please...!" You didn't know what you were begging for.
"Please what, huh? Screwin' with me all day, pushing me into the.. fuck— damn water. you deserve this." He panted, and sat up , putting a little bit of space between you before grabbing your throat. Placing just the right amount of pressure to get you tightening up around him even more.
He honestly did this just for kicks, just to see that scared expression again.
"Gettin' off to be choked too, what a slut. Nngh.. it's fine though, ya know why doll?"
He leaned back down, his hips never ceasing to move. Your foreheads touched, "Because you're all mine now. C.. Can't let this tight cunt slip away from me.. mnh.."
He knows you wouldn't even be able to leave if you tried. You're stuck here with him forever.
You whimpered and pleaded pathetically, tears forming in your eyes. It was too much, it felt too good. Your entire body was buzzing with pleasure. "J–Jax.. gonna..!" You gasped, and he finally removed his hand.
"That's right cum on my cock babe, fuck." He grunted and used his free hand to rub circles onto your clit, pushing you over the edge immediately.
You yelled his name in pleasure, legs shaking and cunt siezing around him. It made you too tight, causing him to blow his load inside of you, "Shit.."
He slowly pulled out and a few more ropes of cum spilled onto your stomach.
Jax looked at you, all fucked out and barely able to keep your eyes open. He couldn't let anyone else see you like this.
Ever.
Unbeknownst to you, Jax just latched himself onto you. It'd be hard to rid of him after this.
It was like a coil snapped inside of him.
He stared at your for a long while, you were half asleep so you didn't exactly notice.
"Hey, toots." He gently slapped your cheek.
"C'mon.. we both need a shower. We can take care of the clothes later, yeah?"
"Huh, shower.. together..? n-no that's—"
"Ya really pulling that card right now? For all you know I could've just knocked you up, now c'mon."
The bunny pulled you onto your wobbly legs and into the bathroom to clean up.
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