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yuujispinkhair · 2 months

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Bad Boy - Good Toy

Sukuna is used to girls throwing themselves at him, begging him to dominate them. He never met any resistance. He never met any challenge. Until he meets you, and suddenly, the bad boy becomes nothing but a willing fucktoy.

There is now a Part 02

Pairing: Sub!Sukuna x Dom!Reader (female) Genre: smut, College AU Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: 18+, smut, degradation, humiliation, edging, exhibitionism, voyeurism, smoking, mentions of drugs, sharing chewing gum, facesitting, squirting, abs-riding, overstimulation, Sukuna cums untouched, piss (Reader pees on Sukuna to humiliate him, and he likes it). Reader calls Sukuna slut, fucktoy and fuckdoll. Unhealthy relationship dynamics. Reader and Sukuna don't talk about limits or safe words. Sukuna is ok with everything Reader does to him, but please be aware that this isn't the way a sub/dom relationship is supposed to be in real life. I just wanted things to be a bit fucked up in this story ;) Divider @/benkeibear

Sukuna is bored. So fucking bored. Bored with college in general, bored of the parties that are always the same, bored of the drugs that don't give him the kick he craves anymore. Even sex is boring nowadays. He sighs as his gaze brushes over the girl kneeling between his spread legs. He didn't bother asking for her name. He thinks she might be in his history course. But it doesn't matter. Nothing matters.

He doesn't even bother to hide from view, letting her suck him off in the back of the dimly lit living room on some ratty couch, while a few meters away, people are dancing and drinking and singing along to songs that Sukuna hates. She is eager, bopping her mouth on his dick enthusiastically, humming around him, and hollowing her cheeks like a champ. But he feels nothing at all. He isn't even sure he can cum tonight. It's like he is numb to everything. The nameless girl moans around his dick, and Sukuna grabs his phone to send his brother a message.

Where are you, brat? I want to leave.

He doesn't get a reply and instead checks his group chats and e-mails while the girl between his legs slurps loudly on his tip. Sukuna huffs in annoyance and lets his bored gaze travel through the room. It lands on a girl in a red t-shirt who is looking in his direction. You are sipping your drink casually while you unashamedly watch him getting his dick sucked.

It makes him grin broadly. Finally, a little bit of entertainment. Maybe he will manage to cum just to give that little voyeur a good show. And afterward, he can take you to one of the bedrooms and fuck you. Or maybe do it right here on that couch, too.

He winks at you. A smile spreads over your face, but it's not the smile Sukuna usually sees on the faces of the girls he plans to fuck. It's the kind of smile he sees in the mirror. A smile that means trouble. His cock twitches, and he groans softly.

He doesn't break eye contact, and neither do you. Sukuna raises an eyebrow challengingly, smirking at you, daring you to come over while he gets his dick sucked. His stomach flips when you really start walking towards him.

Sukuna's pulse accelerates when you stop right next to him. You let your gaze travel from his face down to his cock, watching it bop in and out of that other girl's mouth. You chuckle. It's not a nice sound.

"Aww, do you have problems cumming, Sukuna? Is your dick not working?"

For a stunned second, Sukuna just blinks at you, mouth hanging open. The resident bad boy rendered speechless for the first time in his life. And then he throws his head back and laughs, and simultaneously, he feels his balls tighten.

"If you get on all fours, I will show you just how good my dick works, sweetheart."

You roll your eyes and cross your arms in front of your breasts, looking at him with a bored and unimpressed expression.

"What makes you think I would let you get anywhere near me with that dick of yours. I don't want dirty, good-for-nothing sluts like you."

"What did you just call me?"

But his response lacks the bite. Instead, he sounds breathless, and his hand tightens on the couch as his cock twitches in the other girl's mouth. Fuck, it feels so good all of a sudden.

You smile that dangerous smile again and lean closer, your flowery perfume filling Sukuna's nose, and you repeat your words to him, slowly, overly accentuated as if he is stupid,

"Dirty. Good-for-nothing. Slut."

A raw groan spills from Sukuna's throat, and his hips buck off the couch, making the girl between his legs choke on his cock, as he nuts so hard into her mouth that she's spluttering his cum everywhere.

He stares wide-eyed at your smug face as the gears in his mind shift at lightspeed. What the fuck just happened?

The girl between his legs climbs onto his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck, and tries to kiss him, but Sukuna turns his face to the side, looking at you instead,

"Who do you think you are to talk to me like that?"

"Why? Enjoyed it too much, and now you are scared of how your body betrayed you, little slut?"

You laugh and turn around, walking away while you lift a hand in a mocking little wave, and Sukuna stares after you with his mind whirling and his cock still throbbing.

He wakes up the next morning with a strange feeling in his gut. Something is different.

And after a moment, he realizes what it is when the memories from last night come back, and his eyes widen, and a whispered curse falls from his lips. The encounter with you replays in his mind just like it did countless times before he managed to fall asleep last night. Your cruel smile and the sadistic glint in your eyes. The way his body reacted to it.

He is so used to everyone cowering before him. So used to everyone submitting to him so willingly. All those countless girls throwing themselves at him, begging him to please let them suck his dick, obeying his every command, asking him if they can please call him daddy during fucking.

He never met any resistance. He never met any challenge. One look from him and the girls were practically on their backs with their legs spread like some animal in heat.

No one ever talked to him the way you did. Or looked at him that way. As if he is worthless trash in your eyes. Your words resonate in his brain. "You dirty, good-for-nothing slut."

Fuck! It turns him on. It makes him achingly hard even now. He turns onto his back and shoves a hand into his pants. He jerks off so furiously that his wrist hurts, making a huge mess all over himself when he cums to the thought of you calling him a useless brat.

Sukuna isn't the same man he was 24 hours ago.

He totally doesn't look for you on campus on Monday morning. It is totally a coincidence that he slides up to you when you pull out a package of strawberry bubble gum from the vending machine. It's definitely not like he followed you around like a puppy for a whole hour until he finally got his shit together and decided to approach you.

"Strawberry flavor, huh? Wouldn't have thought that a foul person like you would pick such a sweet flavor."

You eye him lazily, eyes never leaving his as you tear open the packaging and put one of the pastel pink bubble gums into your mouth before you grace him with a reply.

"Oh, shut up. An attitude like that doesn't fit a pretty boy like you. Learn to behave, and then we can talk again."

Sukuna feels his lips lift in his trademark smirk as that weird, exhilarating sensation fills his veins again. He is enjoying himself far too much. He braces himself against the vending machine, his large hands on both sides of your face, caging you in, towering over you, while he smirks down at you.

But you don't seem intimidated at all by his height and muscular figure and the tattoos on his face. Instead, you smile at him and cock your head to the side, eyeing him expectantly as if you are waiting for him to do something.

He leans down, bringing his face closer to yours.

"Can I have a gum too? Please? See, I can behave very well."

His voice has dropped to his usual flirty, seductive tone, which he always uses on girls. The tone that always drives them crazy and makes them drop their panties faster than they can say his name.

You flutter your lashes exaggeratedly at him, smiling a sickeningly fake angelic smile as you open your mouth and pull out your gum.

"Ok, you can have one since you asked so politely. Open up, slut."

He laughs when you push the used gum to his lips, but Sukuna isn't one to back down, so he grabs your small hand, wraps his tattooed hand around your wrist, and opens his mouth. He licks your fingers, lets his tongue-piercing glide over your fingertips, and sucks the used bubble gum into his mouth.

You gaze deeply into his eyes, looking amused.

"You didn't even say thank you, Sukuna. You are still such a useless and rude brat."

You turn on your heel and leave him standing there like some rejected loser, and he chews the gum that tastes like strawberry and your spit and feels his cock twitch against his sweatpants.

Sukuna sees you again on Saturday at another party. Two girls danced with him and asked him if he wanted to fuck them both upstairs in one of the bedrooms, but he turned them down, not even able to grasp why.

Until he walks into the kitchen and sees you. And suddenly, things fall into place.

Why bother with those random girls when the one he really wants is you? You are the only one who poses a challenge. The only one who makes his skin tingle with excitement. The only one who makes him feel like he is still alive and not some fucking ghost.

He leans against the fridge and watches you while he lights a cigarette. He smokes it in silence, just smirking at you and hoping you will come over and call him a slut again. Or any other degrading name you can think of. Sukuna isn't picky.

You walk over to him, a few drags into his cigarette, and stop in front of him, so close that he can smell your sweet perfume again. And you smile that smile that isn't sweet at all as you reach up and take the cigarette from Sukuna's lips. Your eyes never leave his as you bring his half-smoked cigarette to your mouth, wrapping your lips with the red lipstick around the filter right where Sukuna's lips were a moment ago, and the sight is so sexy to him that Sukuna has to bite his lip not to moan.

You take a deep drag, and your eyes close for a moment as the nicotine fills your senses before they open again to gaze up at Sukuna through your long lashes, grinning as you slowly blow the smoke right into Sukuna's face.

He laughs, pushing himself off the fridge, stepping closer to you, so close that his hips brush against you,

"You know what that means, right princess? Blowing smoke in someone's face?"

"Who doesn't know that?"

You roll your eyes and look at him as if he is stupid, and he can't help but place his large hands on your waist and drawl in his best bedroom voice,

"So, you admit you want to fuck me?"

You smirk back at him as you push his hands off your waist, sounding dismissive when you shrug and say,

"You have a pretty face and a good body. And I am horny right now. So why not? And you are probably a good fuck, with all that practice you had."

"What makes you so sure I want to fuck you?"

"Oh, don't be silly. You won't say no. A slut like you never does. Everyone knows you are easy."

Sukuna doesn't bother telling you that he just turned down two hot chicks half an hour ago. He lets you grab his hand and pull him along, and he follows you with a broad smirk on his tattooed face.

His cock is already pressing against his jeans when his crotch brushes over your ass when you pull him up the stairs. His mind is hazy, thoughts clouded over by lust, finally feeling that sweet, exciting buzzing again that he missed so much.

You pull him into one of the bedrooms, yank off his t-shirt, and push him onto the bed. Or you try to. You push against his broad chest, not able to move him an inch, but he plays along and lets himself fall onto the bed, looking up at you with heavy-lidded maroon eyes and his throbbing erection leaking pre-cum into his pants like some pathetic little virgin before his first fuck.

Sukuna licks his lips when he watches you reach under your skirt and take off your panties. That's the only thing you take off before you join him on the bed, straddling his thighs, making him smirk at you like the devil that he is,

"So eager to get my cock inside you that you can't even be bothered to get naked, princess?"

"Shut up, slut. Good boys don't talk unless I allow it."

Your little hands are on his belt, opening it, unbuttoning his jeans, and pulling down the zipper, making Sukuna's hips twitch when your hand rubs over his boxer-clad erection. He knows he is acting pathetic right now, cock so eager, already staining the fabric of his boxer briefs with a ridiculously huge amount of pre-cum. But fuck it, he is finally turned on again, finally excited to fuck again after all those months of feeling bored.

He pushes his hard cock against your hand, but you pull away again, smiling that devilish smile at him as you crawl on top of him.

Sukuna laughs breathlessly when you hover above his face, letting him know what you want from him. His large hands reach out to run slowly up the back of your thighs before they cup your ass cheeks, and he pulls you down onto his face.

He groans when your hot wet pussy settles on his tattooed face. Fuck, he always heard his brother go on and on about how hot he finds it when a girl sits on his face with a skirt and no panties. Sukuna had never found it so fascinating until now. Until it is you, and you tell him in that emotionless voice,

"Get to work, my little slut. If you make me squirt, you will get a reward."

He turns his face and moans against your inner thigh, leaving a kiss there,

"And what will my reward be?"

"I'll allow you to cum."

Allow him to cum?

Fuck. The words alone make Sukuna throb in his boxer briefs, another pearl of pre-cum leaking out of him.

"Then stop acting like a squeamish virgin and sit on my face for real."

"I told you to shut up, brat."

"Then shut me up with your pussy."

Sukuna grabs your ass cheeks tightly and pulls you down further, making you sit on his face for real. He isn't just a good fuck. He is the best fuck, and he will prove it to you!

He sucks your little swollen clit into his mouth and laughs when you gasp loudly. You grab his hair, tugging on it, making him groan as the slightly painful sensation goes directly to his throbbing cock. And he spoils your pussy like the slut that he is. Teases your clit with the stiff tip of his tongue and pushes the metal ball of his tongue piercing under the hood of your clit until you tremble and moan loudly.

He gets really into it, fucks you with his tongue and sucks savagely on your clit, eats you so good that it only takes a few minutes until you let out a high-pitched squeal and buck wildly against his face.

Hot, sticky liquid gushes over his lips, and you rock against him, voice breathless but still so stern,

"Open your eyes. Watch me cum all over your pretty face. Yeah, take it all, you little slut. Drink it all up."

Sukuna's eyes meet yours, and he moans, and his hips buck involuntarily, cock so desperate that he is rutting against thin air while pulsing pre into his boxer briefs.

He drinks you up, pushes his pierced tongue deeply into your twitching pussy, and licks it all up, basking in the way you mewl his name for a split second before you regain control and run a hand through his tousled pink hair, smoothing it down again,

"You are a good little fucktoy, Sukuna. Well done."

Sukuna's cock throbs at your words, and he blinks in surprise. Ok, so it's not just degradation that gets him excited, but also praise? Well, he is so fucked. So thoroughly fucked, and he loves every second of it!

You climb off his face, kneeling on the bed beside him, and let your small hands trail down Sukuna's defined pecs and his taut abs, following his tattoos down to the hem of his boxer briefs.

"You have such a nice body, Sukuna. The perfect little fucktoy. And what about that pretty cock? Is he perfect too, hm?"

A breathy gasp falls from his lips when you run a single finger over the thick bulge in his boxer briefs, slowly running up and down his whole throbbing length. Just a light, teasing touch, but it makes his vision blurry and pulls a desperate-sounding whine from his mouth.

It's so fucking humiliating. He's making such pathetic noises. But he simply can't bring himself to care. Not when he finally feels alive again when he is with you. His low voice is thick with need when he whispers,

"You said you would make me cum."

"Uh uh, I didn't say I would make you cum, sweetheart. I said I will allow you to cum. Let's see how things will go. Let's see how excited my little fucktoy will get. Don't forget what you are here for, Sukuna, baby. You are in this bed to serve me."

"Fuck..."

It takes all of Sukuna's willpower to not shove a hand into his boxer briefs and relieve that fucking pressure.

You straddle him again, sit on his abs this time, rubbing yourself on them, making him gasp when he feels how wet and hot your pussy is and how you spread your cream all over him. It's sexy. Nasty, just as he likes it.

Sukuna can see your face now, and it makes his chest fill with elation when he sees the fucked out expression on your face as you slide over his firm abs, rubbing your little clit against his hard muscles, your eyes closing and lips hanging open dumbly when you moan so sweetly and twitch on his stomach, reaching another orgasm on him.

He could sneak a hand behind you, could jack off behind your back, but he doesn't do it. He wants to be your good little toy.

You don't stop but keep rutting against him, your fingernails digging into the swell of Sukuna's pecs, leaving their crescent-moon-shaped marks there as you abuse your puffy clit further on his abs.

And Sukuna grabs your hips and helps you ride his abs, grinning as he hears your harsh breathing and feels you starting to tense up again. Another loud squeal tumbles out of your mouth, and Sukuna is about to taunt you for being so horny for him that you cum on him three times in a row when he feels something hot and wet on his abs, much more than during your other two orgasms.

You hum and grind against him as more wetness flows out of you and onto Sukuna's stomach, warm and sweet-smelling, and Sukuna's gaze snaps to yours in understanding.

You laugh and rub yourself against him, smiling that devilish smile as you pee on him. And he can't hold back the loud moan falling from his lips, can't stop his cock from twitching, almost cumming in his boxer briefs.

"You like that, you fucking pervert? Yeah, Sukuna? You like getting peed on? Well, I have more for you, my nasty boy."

You slide off him, hands grabbing his boxer briefs and pulling them down, finally freeing his aching cock. Sukuna groans when it springs up, bouncing lightly, rock-hard, pre-cum dripping down from it onto his abs.

You throw one leg over his thighs, kneeling over his stiff cock, and then more piss rains down from your hot cunt and onto Sukuna's cock.

And Sukuna moans and curses loudly as his back arches off the bed, and he cums all over himself, untouched, shooting hot ropes of cum out of his tip, all over his abs, and over your cunt that's hovering above him.

His vision goes black for a moment, and his breath comes out in loud, harsh huffs, his whole body shaking from the intensity of his orgasm. He thinks he never came so hard in his life.

You laugh and finally sit down on Sukuna's twitching cock, letting it glide between your wet folds, making him buck against you. But you don't let him push inside you. You just rub your wet cunt slowly over his spent length, watching with an amused smile as you milk every last spurt of cum out of Sukuna while you let more pee trickle over his cock, mixing his cum with your piss.

Sukuna's heart is beating so fast that he feels lightheaded. And the overstimulation makes him sob, makes his oversensitive cock ache and twitch, but oh, how he craves this sweet pain. He lets his head fall back on the pillow, letting more low moans spill from his lips, eyes closing as he pushes his slowly softening cock between your pussy lips, whimpering softly anytime that delicious pain pulses in his length.

He doesn't know how long it takes before you stop moving on him and slip off his lap. But he sighs when the sticky heat of your cunt leaves his cock.

The bed creaks as you crawl up to him to press a gentle kiss to his cheek, whispering in his ear,

"You are such a mess, Sukuna. Such a cute mess for me. I'm excited to see what else you can give me, my little fuckdoll."

You leave him lying there on top of the blanket, his cock pulsing hotly from the overstimulation, mind hazy with post-coital bliss, chest heaving with heavy breaths, skin sticky from his cum, and your squirt and pee.

It's disgusting, and he should feel embarrassed, but he can't help but moan softly as a small smile creeps over his face. Sukuna feels satisfied like he hasn't felt in months. He hopes you will use him again as your personal fucktoy very soon.

FUCKTOY SUKUNA, I WANT YOU 💗💗 I wrote the first draft of this story a while ago and then thought I wouldn't dare publish it because it's too nasty, but I changed my mind, lol. I hope it was ok and that my fellow sub!Sukuna enjoyers accept this treat ;)

There will be a second part!! The story got too long, and there would have been too many sex scenes, so I decided to split it.

Thank you so much for reading 💗 Reblogs and comments would be very sweet!

HERE IS PART 02

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna #sukuna smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna #tw piss #tw dark content

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yandere-daydreams · 5 months

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Title: Idolification.

Pairing: Yandere!Itadori Yuuji x Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 5.0k.

TW: No Curse/College AU, Fem!Reader, Non/Con, Prolonged Stalking, (Unintentional) Emotional Manipulation, Oral Sex, Drunk Sex, Unprotected Sex, Age Gap (Reader's 27, Yuuji's 22), Intimidation, Brief Mommy Kink, Pepper Spray, and Obsessive Behavior. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

“I’m so, so, so, so sorry.”

“It was an accident, you don’t have to—” Yuuji was cut off by another splash of milk, quickly followed by another jet of water. Her makeshift treatment was harsh, the temperature alternating unpredictably between ice cold and scalding hot, but Yuuji took the abuse with a smile that was almost bright enough to distract you from the red, aggravated skin around his eyes. Almost. “It’s alright,” he managed, eventually, doing his best not to sound like he was being slowly drowned in your bathtub. “Believe it or not, that’s only the second worst thing I’ve gotten in my eyes.”

Knowing him, it was probably closer to the fourth or fifth, but that did little to ease your guilt. He’d been leaving as you were getting home from your second twelve-hour shift of the week, and from there, it’d been a comedy of errors. He spotted you coming down the hall, haggard and bleary-eyed, and saw the babysitter who’d spent more summers than not keeping him (and, by association, his older half-brother) out of trouble before their family fell off of the face of the planet, and reacted the way Yuuji reacted to most things – with open arms and a contagious smile. You’d looked at him, a far cry from the kid you’d spent so much time looking after, and seen a very strange, very grown man loitering outside of the door to your shoebox of an apartment before charging towards you with a manic expression and, well, you had always wanted an excuse to use the pepper spray you carried near-religiously. It was only a shame it had to be on someone as sweet as Yuuji.

Now, you were on your knees on the floor of your bathroom, your fingers tangled in Yuuji’s hair as your roommate gently waterboarded him with a cartoon of organic oat milk in one hand and your decade-old showerhead in the other. The front of his t-shirt was soaked through, his lung half-flooded at least, but he was still grinning like you’d greeted him with a blank check and a litter of puppies. “Honestly, it’s on me,” he insisted, his enthusiasm too potent not to be genuine. “Miss Shoko mentioned she was living with someone.”

At the mention of your roommate, Shoko Ieiri, your attention shifted to the woman in-question. You weren’t an idiot. After the shock died down, it hadn’t taken long for you to piece together why a young man would be rushing to get out of your apartment while your attractive (albeit, socially dead) roommate was home alone. When she met your prying eyes, you shot her a pointed glare. “Cradle rocker.”

She threatened to turn the showerhead on you, but relented as soon as you flinched away. “He’s in one of my classes,” she muttered, then pushed herself to her feet with a soft groan. “We’re out of milk,” she said, shaking the empty carton. “Let his eyes air-dry. I’ll be in my office – come get me if he starts crying again.”

“I’m a doctor too, y’know.”

“You’ll be a doctor in another year. Right now, you’re an intern.” She eyed Yuuji wearily. “An intern who physically assaults her patients, at that.”

Without any real way to retort, you stuck your tongue out – a gesture Shoko mimicked as she slipped out of the crime scene that was your bathroom. Despite Shoko’s advice, you fished a towel off the nearest rack and handed it to Yuuji, who accepted it with a grateful hum. “I really am sorry,” you repeated, burying your face in your hands. “It’s just, it’s been so long, and you look so different, and god, it’s been—”

“—ten years,” Yuuji filled in, probably tired of hearing you repeat the same two excuses. “I remember, ‘cuz you invited us to your graduation that year. I wanted to go, too, but Gramps got sick and…” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck with an airy chuckle. “You know how it is.”

“Oh my god,” you gasped. “I loved your grandfather. How is he?”

Yuuji’s smile wavered for the first time. “He passed, actually. A few years ago.”

Fuck.

If the building was going to collapse and bury you in the rubble, that would’ve been the time.

“Sukuna’s doing good, though,” Yuuji went on, kind enough to pretend there hadn’t been a lapse. “He opened a restaurant a few months ago. It’s a hole-in-the-wall kind of place, but it’s been keeping him out of the ring.” His expression brightened. “And you’re a doctor! I mean, I knew you would be, but you’re a doctor!”

You felt your face heat up his brother’s name, your eyes falling to the tiled floor. “Almost a doctor. I just started my internship.” And they’d already managed to work you half to death. “You’re in med school, right? Shoko never teaches undergrad.”

“It’s my first semester,” he said with a slight laugh. “It’s harder than I thought it’d be, though. Miss Shoko offered to give me a few pointers, but, y’know—” He sighed, let his head lull back. “I’m starting to think I’m just not smart enough for stuff like this.��

“You shouldn’t say that kind of thing about yourself. You’ve always been—” You cut yourself off with a sudden gasp, clapping your hands together. “If you’re struggling, let me help you study! I have tomorrow off, and I promise, I’m not as strict as Shoko.”

Immediately, he straightened up, your towel still strung around his neck and his smile returned to its full brightness. It only dimmed slightly when he glanced down at his damp shirt. “…there won’t be as much pepper spray this time, right?”

His smile was as contagious as it’d been when he was still a kid, begging you to let him stay up yet another hour past his already-lenient bedtime. Despite his bloodshot eyes and your lingering, only slightly lessened guilt, you found yourself biting back a grin.

“No pepper spray, this time. I promise.”

“Room for one more?”

She glanced over her shoulder as you struggled past the jammed sliding door, taking a moment to evaluate your stiff shoulders and strained smile over the thick frames of her glasses before nodding curtly. Your relief was immediate and all-encompassing. Honestly, you should’ve known better than to do anything but shake your head and flee the country when Yuuji invited you to hang out with a few of his friends, but he’d sworn up and down that it wasn’t a party and promised that you wouldn’t be out of place and pouted in a way you’d never been able to resist. You were starting to think that, no matter how old you got, you’d never learn to say ‘no’ to Yuuji.

The blaring music was only vaguely muffled by the glass, the blurry outlines of other guests playing behind thin curtains. There was a red solo cup in your hand, a lipstick stain on your cheek from a girl who’d passed out half an hour ago, but you were hyper-aware that you were too old to be at a college party with people at least half a decade younger than you, in the best cases. You braced yourself against the balcony railing with a soft groan, crossing your arms and hanging your head low enough to warrant a hum of sympathy from the woman next to you. She held up a box of cigarettes – the cheap kind you and Shoko used to split on the days you had to decide between food and rent – and you accepted her offer with the kind of gratitude you could only assume a starving lion would’ve shown to a limping gazelle.

“Maki,” she said, shaking one into your open palm and fishing a lighter out of her pocket. “You’re one of Itadori’s friends?”

“You could say that.” You let her light you up before taking a shaky drag, the bitter taste a welcome distraction. “I’ve been tutoring him for a few weeks. I think he just invited me as a way to say ‘thank you’.”

Her eyes flashed with recognition, the corner of his lips turning upward for the first time. “You’re the chick who used to babysit him. (Y/n), right?”

“He’s mentioned me?”

“He won’t shut up about you. Every other word out of his mouth is ‘(Y/n) this’ or ‘(Y//n) that’.” She tapped her cigarette against the edge of the railing, sending a few flakes of ash fluttering down to the street below. “Megumi gets it the worst, but we’ve all had to see the fucking pictures.”

“That… that sounds like him.” You forced out a half-hearted laugh, then wavered. “I’m sorry, pictures?”

Maki opened her mouth, but the balcony door was jerked open before she could respond. Yuji appeared in the open entryway, cheeks flushed and grin wide. He drawled your name in a single slur before moving on to more important topics. “We found a—We found a karaoke machine! ‘gumi thinks he can get it running!”

You sent Maki an apologetic look, but she only shrugged, a sliver of a grin. “Better get him tucked in.”

This time, when you smiled back, it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

It took a month for Yuuji to start ‘forgetting’ his textbooks when he came over for your little study sessions.

It took three for Yuuji to drop the pretense of studying at all – calling you out to some late-night diner or lethargic early-morning café or, better yet, showing up at your apartment door unannounced and empty-handed with only that unnerving smile and a half-baked excuse to spend time with you.

It took six for his hand to drift just a little lower than your shoulder while you watched some awful, b-rated horror movie on your well-beaten couch. You let him reach your waist before clearing your throat and shifting away, your smile pained.

“I… I think you should probably leave,” you half-mumbled, your voice shaking. “It’s getting late.”

“We haven’t even gotten to the best part yet.” Predictably, Yuuji was undeterred. His persistence used to be endearing, but now, it just felt unfair. “I don’t mind sleeping over, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s not like we’ve never spent the night together.”

A nervous laugh, his hand planted just a little too close to your thigh. “I wish you wouldn’t phrase it like—”

“I mean, I know I’m your type.” It was almost impressive, what he could say with such an innocent expression. His free hand found its way to your other side, pinning you between the arm of the couch and his broad chest. “I know you had a thing for Sukuna, and everyone says we’re practically identical. That means you should be into me too, right?”

“Yuuji,” Your eyes darted to your phone, left absent-mindedly on your coffee table. The urge was there, but it wasn’t like he would actually hurt you. He’d always been a sweet kid – a little overzealous, but that wasn’t a crime. This was just… a bad decision, one you had to stop him from making before he did something he’d regret. “Sukuna is my age, and—”

“I don’t care about that.” He cut in swiftly, definitively. His bright eyes had glazed over, catching the dim light of your T.V. as he leaned in further, as his face came to hover less than a full breath away from yours. “I’ve loved you since I was eight. Can Sukuna say that?”

“That’s not—”

“I know you used to fuck him.” His chest was touching yours, now, his breath hot against your skin. “I know you’d fuck him again, if he was here. I know—”

You didn’t give him a chance to finish. It was a weak blow, simultaneously hesitant and instinctual, but your open palm made contact with his cheek with a deafening crack, his head snapping to the side and putting that much more distance between his body and yours. He moved to cup his swelling cheek, and you took the opportunity to slip out from underneath him and stumble to your feet. “I think you should leave,” you repeated, the words spat hastily enough to blend together. “Please, Yuuji.”

For a second, he didn’t move, didn’t speak.

Then, he turned to face you, his smile wiped away and his expression so blank, you couldn’t remember how you’d ever looked at him and saw anything other than void.

He didn’t say anything, only pushing himself to his feet and shambling out of your living room. You kept your eyes on the ground until his footsteps faded out of earshot, until you heard the front door creak open and slam shut with enough force to shake the walls.

When you were sure he was gone, you collapsed onto your couch and laid motionless while an actress screamed in the background.

“Your golden boy’s asking about you, again.”

You groaned, buckling at the waist and burying your face in your arms. Shoko glanced up from the exams she was grading, but whatever sympathy she might’ve felt apparently didn’t warrant the effort it would’ve taken to reach across the table to comfort you. “Satoru’s been getting it, too,” she went on. “That’s how you know it’s bad. I can’t remember the last time someone managed to talk over that narcissist.”

“I’m sorry.” You couldn’t remember how many times you’d already apologized for Yuuji’s recent fixation. “He’s… probably just worried about his grades, or something.”

Her lips quirked into a frown. “What are you talking about?”

“I was helping him study,” you admitted, reluctantly. As much as Shoko had to hear about your unruly patients and patronizing coworkers, you’d been less open about how much time you were spending with a student fresh out of undergrad. “He’s never been that good with school. I used to have to help him with his homework in elementary school, too.”

This time, she decided your conversation was important enough to earn her full attention. “Itadori’s one of my best students.”

You felt your chest tighten. “But, the first time he came over, you were tutoring—”

She said your name, curt and blunt, and you went quiet. With a sigh, she shook her head, dropping her pen entirely. “When was the last time I offered to personally tutor a struggling student?”

You swallowed dryly. “Never.”

“And when was the last time I gave our full address out to literally anyone?”

“Never,” you said, again. After a second, you added, “Well, there was that one time with Iori…”

“Not the point. I know you don’t want to hear it, but the kid’s a creep. You might have to—”

She was cut off by your phone buzzing against the table. Your eyes scanned over the caller’s name scrawled across the dim screen before moving back to Shoko, her gaze now narrowed into a sharp glare. “Don’t.”

And, for a second, you didn’t. You convinced yourself that you wouldn’t. You told yourself that, after you bought Satoru around of drinks as an apology, you’d do… you’d do something about Yuuji, even if you weren’t sure what you could do, just yet.

Then, you let yourself picture the kid you used to watch for a few dollars an hour while his grandfather was sick and his brother was on the other side of town doing something dubiously legal at best, dead in a ditch at worst – all wide eyes and scuffed elbows and lopsided grins. You let yourself remember the way he’d ramble about his day after you picked him up from school, and how excited he was the first time you made it to one of his school’s sports days, and how he’d clung to you and sobbed the day before his family moved to the other side of the country. At the time, you’d been thankful to have one less responsibility, relieved that you’d never have to see Sukuna again. You’d been selfish, even for a kid.

The phone was in your hand in a moment, the call answered in another. You stood as you brought it to your ear, hoping that would be enough to block out Shoko’s mumbled cursing.

“Yuuji?”

The silence in your car was thick, nearly suffocating.

It’d been one of Yuuji’s friends calling from his phone – the dark-haired one with the monotone voice, barely audible over the blaring music of whichever nightclub they were standing outside of. He’d asked you to, in his own words, ‘come get your problem child’, and when you’d asked why Yuuji needed you specifically, he’d only handed the phone back to Yuuji and let you listen to a full minute of whining, your name the only coherent thing to make it off of Yuuji’s tongue. Shoko urged you not to go, and yet, twenty minutes later, Yuuji was slumped over in your passenger seat, his eyes narrowed and his lips pursed in an uncharacteristic frown.

He was less talkative than he’d been on the phone. The clingier stages of his inebriation had passed, leaving room for a disassociated sort of passiveness that meant, even if you’d been brave enough to try and start a conversation, his response wouldn’t be anything worth that kind of effort. By the time you reached his apartment complex, the knot sitting at the pit of your stomach was equal parts dread and second-hand embarrassment, but you tried to keep your tone light as you turned to him. “It’s time to get out, Yuuji.” And then, when he failed to move, “You’re on your own from here.”

He looked at you, eyes unfocused and hands folded almost childishly over his lap. You softened more than you should’ve at the sight. “…do you need help getting home?”

A second of thought, a quick nod. You shouldn’t. You knew that you really, really shouldn’t.

And yet, somehow, you found yourself in front of Yuuji’s door, fussing over the lock as Yuuji clung to your side, his face buried in the dip of your shoulder. He was cooperative enough; able to stand on his own with minimum swaying but not so lucid that it took more than a gentle suggestion to lead him to his bedroom, where he was more than happy to collapse onto his unmade bed. With a shaky exhale, you turned to leave, but something caught on your sleeve – Yuuji’s hand, when you could bring yourself to check.

“Stay,” he mumbled, his voice dampened by the sheets his face was buried in. “Please?”

You felt your throat go dry. “I can’t.”

You expected him to go shrill and whiny, but he proved to be a touch more mature than the ten-year-old you used to babysit. Rather flatly, he asked, “Why not?”

How were you supposed to answer that? Would it be good enough to say that you didn’t want to, that you couldn’t spend your night looking after a drunk kid you’d known a decade ago, that you’d already done more than you should’ve just by giving him a ride? Was it worth trying to talk to him at all when he could barely hold his head up? Would it do anything to soften the burn of the bile rising into your throat to point out that, the last time you’d been in the same room as him, he’d tried to—

No, it wasn’t and it wouldn’t and you had to leave. With your heart racing in your chest, you tried to jerk yourself out of his hold, but his vice-grip only grew tighter, his head rising up from the mattress just enough to let him stare at you with those big, bleary eyes. “Why not?”

“Yuuji, this isn’t—”

He was so, so much stronger than he had been, the last time you’d seen each other. One second, you were on your feet, at his bedside, and the next, you were on the floor of his bedroom, forced onto your hands and knees while Yuuji’s body pressed into yours from above. “I love you,” he said, his voice as steady as it’d ever been. “I love you, and I—Fuck—” He panted against the back of your neck, something uncomfortably stiff grinding against your ass. “It makes me so fucking hard when you say my name like that.”

A hand slipped under the hem of your top, his palm pressing into the small of your back. You moved to speak, then thought better of it, biting into your bottom lip as your anxious squirming turned to full-blown struggling. Yuuji only laughed, the noise airy and affectionate, winding an arm around your waist and pulling you that much closer to him – making it that much more impossible to get away. His free hand worked clumsily at your top; drawing it up and over your head. You fought against it at first, but froze the first time you felt something stretch a little too far, heard fabric tear. This couldn’t happen, but you absolutely couldn’t be stranded in Yuuji’s apartment with no clothes and no way out.

With his face buried in the back of your shoulder, he cupped your chest, catching your nipples between his forefinger and thumb and pinching with just enough force to draw a low, strained whimper from the back of your throat. “So cute…” He nuzzled deeper into your neck as his touch drifted. Your skirt was drawn downward – a long piece, something you’d thrown on without much thought – then discarded completely, his own shirt wrestled off in the same motion. You felt his fingertips slip under the hem of your panties, but he pulled away and straightened his back, instead. For a second, you let yourself believe that he’d come to his senses, that whatever sick idea he’d gotten into his head had finally worn off, but the arm wrapped around your waist only drew tighter, hauling you off of the floor and into his arms. You were dropped unceremoniously onto the edge of his bed, and Yuuji sunk onto his knees between your open legs.

“I know you’ve probably slept with other people – aside from my brother, I mean. It’d be nice to find out you haven’t, though.” His tone was distant and dreamy. He was still drunk, but not drunk enough for how he’d been acting earlier. Not drunk enough for what he was doing now. He traced the pad of his thumb over your clothed slit, keeping a hand curled around your ankle to keep you in place. “I used to hear you with Sukuna – in his car, and his room, on the couch after you two thought I’d fallen asleep …” He trailed off into an airy laugh. “He likes to show off – always has. If he wasn’t my brother, I think I’d kill him.”

He sighed, pressing a lingering kiss into the inside of your thigh before shifting his attention to your pussy; his tongue laving over the thin material covering your cunt. You were crying, now, openly and audibly – your choked sobs almost loud enough to block out Yuuji’s quiet groans and pleased grunts. However his obsession might’ve made him think he felt about you, your distress didn’t seem to affect his appetite. Your panties were pulled down your legs and slid into some unseen pocket. With the last barrier between you and him gone, he was free to trace his tongue over your slit, to latch onto your clit and suck in a way that made you want to bury your face in your hands and scream. You tried to – crossing your arms over your face, but any sound you tried to make was quickly strangled into a broken moans as his tongue fucked shallowly into your pussy. It was invasive, disgusting, but your body didn’t care. You felt cunt clench around him as his nose ground into your clit, his need for air irrelevant while he spread you open with his tongue. Your thighs clenched shut, attempting to block him out, but his only response was a reverberating groan – and hand on your thigh encouraging you to squeeze him that much tighter.

You couldn’t tell which you hated more; the unwanted stimulation or the fact that your body was reacting to it, heating up where you needed it to go cold. As he sunk further into you, ate you out like a beast starved, you clenched your eyes and willed yourself to go numb, to ignore the sloppy sound of your slick on Yuuji’s lips. It was useless, though, as futile as trying to ignore him in the first place. Your back arched off the bed, legs twitching where they hung limply over his shoulders, and—

—and Yuuji pulled away with a sharp gasp. He was on top of you before you could process that he was moving, his mouth crashing into yours before you could think to avoid him. The kiss was brutal, rushed; all teeth and tongue and lips shoved against yours with enough force to bruise. The only hint of tenderness was the soft, satisfied noise he let out as his tongue raked across yours, the bright grin painted across his lips when he drew back from you. “It’s alright.” He brought a hand to your cheek, cupping your face and brushing away tears with his thumb. “I’ve slept with other people too, ‘cause I knew I’d need a little practice to catch up with you. Could never go all the way, though. I just thought about you, and…” He blushed, simpered, like he thought he could pass himself off as the shy, lip-biting schoolboy with your slick coating his chin. “I guess I just didn’t really want anyone else to touch me. Not when I knew I’d see you again.”

A horrified sob bubbled up from somewhere deep and primal in your chest. Yuuji didn’t seem to hear it, only sighing as he pressed a lingering kiss into your forehead. “You don’t have to do anything,” he muttered, his hands falling to your waist. “I want to take care of you, tonight.”

You watched in stunned, paralyzed horror as he pushed himself to his feet, as he hastily worked off his jeans, his boxers (the dark material already notably stained with proof of his arousal). You made one more feeble attempt to squirm out from underneath him, to get away before his attention turned back to you, but confused and betrayed and so, so exhausted, you didn’t stand much of a chance against Yuuji. All he had to do was glance your way, his expression as warm as it was soulless, to leave you helpless against him.

He was eager enough not to reposition you, not to draw this out with the pretense of romance. With one hand on your hip and the other planted near your head, he lined the head of his cock up with your entrance and forced himself into you, bottoming out in a single thrust.

It was agony – pure and unrelenting. Any semblance of gentleness, of restraint fell away as soon as Yuuji was inside of you, as soon as your hyper-sensitive cunt clamped down around his cock. He cursed under his breath before collapsing, his chest pressing into yours as he tried to bury himself that much deeper inside of you, to chase the feeling of your pussy milking him for all he was worth. As hard as you tried not to think about Sukuna, Yuuji hadn’t been lying when he said they were alike. He was just as insatiable as his brother had been any time you let him but his hands on you; just as rough in the way his hips ground into yours between sporadic thrusts. There’d been bruises, the next day. At least Sukuna had been the type to make sure he was gone by the time the damage set in. You doubted Yuuji would be so kind.

“I—I’m sorry,” he managed as he buckled into you. Panting against the dip of your shoulder, he took your hips in his hands and dragged your ass of the mattress, his brutal pace stuttering as he found a new angle to abuse. “Next time—I’ll be gentle next time, I just need to—”

His cock hit something soft and sensitive inside of you. Reflexively, your hands shot to his back, your nails finding skin and tearing. The moan Yuuji let out in response was nothing short of sinful; hitched and guttural, ragged and loud enough to block out the wet, slick sound of his cock pumping into your cunt. “M—” His hand wraps around your thigh, catching you under the knee and dragging it towards your chest, letting him fuck into you that much deeper, that much faster. His face never left the crook of your neck, as if he was afraid to give you space to breathe. “Mommy, ‘m sorry, I need to—”

His teeth sunk into your throat as something hot and thick flooded into your cunt, as your body went stiff and your vision burned white. While his climax was sudden, intense, the peak to a decade’s worth of patience, yours had to be dragged out of you despite your attempts to hold it back, to deny yourself pleasure in the vain hope that it’d somehow be able to convince Yuuji to stop what he’d already finished. It seemed to hold you there in that state of dark, distorted euphoria for minutes – Yuuji’s movements turning slow and languid as he nursed you through your orgasm.

Eventually, mercifully, he went still, going limp above you with his canines still planted in the curve of your neck. If there was any pain, any other unwanted burdens he could force onto you, you were too lost in your own despair to notice, too distant to feel anything other than the mildest tinge of dread as he pulled back, raising his head just far enough to stare down at you, adoration heavy in his eyes and his grin wide and love-struck.

A small, naïve part of you found the sight suffocatingly familiar, while the rest could almost convince itself that you were looking at a stranger.

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nadvs · 1 month

Text

watch and learn (part one)

pairing fratboy! rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning drug and alcohol use

summary it takes one conversation with your college dorm neighbor to know you won’t get along. rafe is loud, rude, and short-tempered. after he overhears you talking about a disappointing fling, he loses his confidence in his sexual abilities and suggests you start hooking up to both improve your skills in the bedroom. you can’t stand him, but it’s too good of an offer to turn down.

» masterlist

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At first, you cut your neighbor some slack. Over freshman welcome week, you figured it wouldn’t be reasonable to expect him to be quiet.

But it’s Thursday of week two, well past quiet hours, and the bass of his music is nearly making your bed shake.

You assumed the guy you’ve heard but haven’t seen yet would settle down once classes were underway. So much for that.

You have a lecture early tomorrow. It’s past midnight and his music and loud conversations are still drumming through your wall.

You’d call the resident advisor, but you’d rather talk to him yourself so not to risk any bad blood that could form from you snitching on him. You sigh, get out of bed, and decide to finally face him.

Rafe takes another hit of his joint, leaning back in his desk chair while three of his frat buddies talk about the past week of rushing.

He just got accepted into his top choice frat and he’s elated. And if he proves himself, he’ll be able to move into the Sigma Chi house next semester.

He probably will never get used to living in such a small room compared to the mansion he grew up in, but at least the frat house will be an upgrade.

“Dude, I think someone’s knocking,” Blake says, slapping Rafe’s knee.

“Oh, shit,” Rafe laughs, high out of his mind. He pauses the music and ambles out of the circle he’s been sitting in.

When he opens the door to see a girl in pajamas looking up at him, her arms crossed and her lips pinched, he’s taken aback for a second. Damn, you’re pretty.

“Hi,” you say, failing to force a smile at the man towering over you. The smell of weed hits you instantly. “I live next door. I wanted to ask if you could please keep it down?”

He grimaces as his unseen friends jeer behind him. You notice the Greek lettering on his t-shirt. A frat boy. Of course.

“You’re in trouble, Rafe!” one of them taunts.

He props a big arm against his doorframe, his blue eyes trailing down your body.

“Were we being loud?” he teases, purposely playing dumb. He’s obviously wasted. And is giving off strong fuckboy vibes.

“I have an early class tomorrow,” you try to explain. “Can you at least keep the music off?”

“What, you don’t like it?”

“Listen… Rafe, right?” you say. He nods, his grin still so fucking smug. You tell him your name. “I’m not trying to ruin anyone’s fun, but-”

“That’s kind of what you’re doing,” Rafe interrupts. The way your face screws up when you’re pissed off is too cute for him to stop fucking with you.

“Don’t you have a frat house you can do this at?” you finally snap, gesturing to his t-shirt.

“You telling me I can’t be in my own room?” Rafe says, annoyance starting to prick at his skin.

“Not if you’re gonna keep people up,” you say.

“Turn around.”

“What?” you snap.

“I wanna know if I can see the stick up your ass from here,” he says.

His friends explode in laughter and he looks back with a wide smile.

“I fucking hate frat boys,” you mutter more to yourself than to him. Rafe brings a hand up to his chest in mock offence. “And you’re not allowed to smoke in your room,” you add.

“You gonna tell on me?” He cocks his head, his hair falling over his forehead.

“Yeah, actually, I might.”

A man appears behind Rafe with a charming smile.

“Okay, okay,” he drawls to you, gesturing to dap Rafe up. “We should get going anyway.”

“Nah, man, you don’t have to,” Rafe says, immediately disappointed that his fun is ending.

“It’s late,” he says. The man nods at you with a smile.

“Blake,” he introduces himself to you. “Sorry about the noise.”

“Thank you,” you say through gritted teeth, wishing Rafe had half the manners his friend does. He shuffles past you, followed by two other guys who say their goodbyes to Rafe.

“Happy?” Rafe mutters, all the playfulness from his tone now gone.

“Thrilled,” you say, turning to get back to your room.

The next afternoon, you’re on the phone with your friend, Liv, as you make your way back to your dorm room after a full day of classes.

She’s trying to convince you to come to a party at a frat house tonight. You’re exhausted after a long day, but she’s right that you need some fun.

“I can’t be out long,” you say on the phone, pushing your key into the lock. “I’m tired. And honestly, already kind of stressed out over school.”

“Maybe you’ll meet a guy who’ll take your mind off things,” Liv suggests. You snort.

“The last guy I hooked up was such a disappointment,” you tell her. You try to twist your key. It won’t budge. “I almost faked my orgasm, then was like, it’s not even worth it.”

Liv laughs.

“They should know when they suck,” she says.

You wiggle your key, your fingers starting to hurt.

“Exactly,” you say. “Plus, he wanted to try this position and… I don’t know, I felt too nervous to do it. It was just a failure all around.”

Finally, your key twists and make it into your room, clueless to the fact that Rafe heard everything.

That night, you’re at the Sigma Chi house, two drinks in, when you spot your neighbor playing beer pong across the room. Shit. You’re sure this is his frat.

You already told Liv about your encounter with Rafe, so you nudge her and point him out.

“That’s my fuckboy neighbor,” you say.

“You didn’t mention how hot he is.”

“Wait until he opens his mouth,” you tell her, earning a laugh.

Honestly, Rafe does look good. He fills out his t-shirt so well, his backwards hat pushing his hair out of his handsome face.

Rafe glances around the crowded room and catches you staring at him. Even though you irritated him the first time you spoke last night, heat fills his body once he realizes your eyes are on him.

You quickly look away.

Despite how much of a tight-ass he thinks you are, he’s glad to see you tonight. What he overheard you say on the phone a few hours ago has been weighing on his mind. And his ego.

He finishes up his game of beer pong and the alcohol rushing through his system convinces him to find you and ask you what he’s been mulling over.

“Are you lost?” a voice says behind you.

You turn to look up at Rafe, who’s ducking down so you can hear him over the music. You glance back at Liv, who raises her eyebrows and turns away to give you privacy.

“Or do you actually know how to have fun?” he asks. You sigh as you glance back at him.

“I do, without the expense of people’s sleep,” you reply, a sarcastic smile on your face. “Crazy concept, right?”

“I figured it out,” he says. “Why you’re such a tight-ass.”

“I am not a tight-ass,” you reply.

“It’s ‘cause you can’t get off. I heard you,” he says. He sees embarrassment wash over your face. You know exactly what he’s referring to. “And I’m the loud one?”

You look away, regretting that you didn’t stop to think your voice would float into his dorm room. Fuck.

“Does that actually happen?” Rafe asks. “Girls fake orgasms?”

Your eyes dart up to meet his and you scoff a chuckle.

“Yes,” you say. “What, you didn’t know that?”

Rafe shakes his head. Admittedly, he’s been wondering if any girls faked cumming with him since he overheard you. It’s kind of a blow to his ego.

“Ouch,” you laugh, regaining your confidence. “Let me guess. You thought you had a perfect track record.”

“How can you tell that a girl’s faking it?”

You take a sip of your beer and he can’t help but notice the enticing way your lips look glossed with moisture.

“Every girl’s different,” you say. “But for the most part, you can… feel it. You know… down there.”

You’re glad you’re drunk for this conversation. You doubt you could have it sober.

“How?” he asks, genuinely curious.

“I’m not helping you with this,” you say. “Especially after you were such a dick to me.”

Rafe smirks, looking down. You notice he has really cute dimples. Shit. The fuckboy is charming you.

“Let’s start over,” he suggests. “I have an idea.”

“You can have those?” you ask.

“I heard you say you were nervous trying a new position,” Rafe says, ignoring your chide. You look down in unease again.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” he says. You look at him again, speechless over how forward he is. “We can help each other. You show me how to make a girl cum and how to know I actually did it. And I’ll let you practice whatever you want with me until you feel confident.”

You freeze for a second. Is he seriously suggesting you two fuck… to get better at fucking?

“Oh, you’ll let me?” you say, his proposal admittedly making your stomach numb with anticipation. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” Rafe says with a shrug. You realize he’s being totally and unabashedly serious. “What? Do you need time to think about it?”

You take another sip of your drink, the cold beer spilling down your throat.

He is insane. But he’s also attractive. Charming. Confident. Would it be so crazy to start hooking up with him?

You’d have the guarantee of an orgasm, without wondering if the guy you’re with cares enough about getting you there, and you’d get practice so you don’t feel as insecure next time you’re with a guy you actually like.

“I’m in, only if you promise to actually respect quiet hours from now on,” you finally say.

“Great sex isn’t a good enough deal?”

“Who’s to say it’ll be great?”

“So, I have to tiptoe around my own room,” he says, his temper flaring.

“If you consider not blasting music at night tiptoeing, then yeah,” you retort.

If Rafe wasn’t sure of it before, he is now: you’re hot when you’re pissed off.

“Fine,” he relents. He’ll probably be moving out next semester anyway. He fishes his phone out of his pocket and opens a new conversation. “Text yourself so I have your number.“

You hand him your cup in exchange for his phone. You send an eggplant emoji to your number. He takes a sip of your drink and you scowl.

“Are you that selfish in bed, too?” you say.

“You can let me know,” he quips. You roll your eyes at him and take your drink, giving him his phone back. Rafe chuckles when he sees the emoji you sent yourself.

“I will,” you promise. “I’ll call you out on everything you do wrong. If you can take it.”

“Okay,” he says. “Tonight?”

Wow. He’s eager. It’s kind of thrilling that he wants you this badly.

“Maybe,” you say. “If I’m not too tired when I get home, I’ll text you.”

Rafe’s chest tightens with excitement. His hot, mouthy neighbor is actually doing this with him.

“Sure.” Rafe juts out his bottom lip, nodding, as if this conversation is completely normal. He’s so casual about it. This feels unreal.

You give him a small smile. Probably the first genuine one you’ve offered him. Okay. You can admit to yourself that you’re looking forward to hooking up with him.

You stay at the frat house for another hour, hanging out with Liv and a few other friends you made, before you make it to your dorm just before midnight.

After changing into pajamas, and the nicest set of bra and panties that you own, you text Rafe: i’m home if you want to come over.

About ten minutes later, you hear a knock at your door. You open it to see Rafe standing with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his gray sweatpants.

You’re sure he knows how good he looks when you notice the outline of his length. He did this on purpose.

“Eager,” you say. “Were you already home?”

“I was quiet, huh?” he boasts, stepping into your room. He takes a second to soak in your space, eyes travelling over the way you’ve decorated.

“What the fuck? Your room’s bigger than mine,” he says.

“They’re all the same size.” You settle on your bed, glad he’s so comfortable about this, not making it awkward at all. Truthfully, the beer has worn off, and you’re kind of freaked out.

But this is what you’re doing this for. So you can stop being so nervous about sex.

“I’ll show you my room and you’ll see for yourself,” Rafe says. You watch him pace across your space to study the photos on your wall.

His eyes travel over the snapshots of you with your family and friends, your smile bright and pretty in every image.

With Rafe’s back turned to you, you take in the way his broad shoulders stretch out his white t-shirt. By the slight curve in his back, you can tell he’s not just lean, but muscular, too.

“How long are you expecting this… arrangement to go on for?” you ask.

“Until we’re both satisfied,” he says confidently, turning to meet your eyes.

“So, you’re aware you won’t be coming out of this with a girlfriend, right?” you assert.

While Rafe is attractive and charming, he’s also rude and narcissistic. You don’t want him to think you’re interested in him in that way. This isn’t a romance.

“Oh, yeah,” he huffs. “I’m not gonna be in college tied down to one chick.”

You scoff. Yup. Definitely no romance here.

“Maybe don’t call a girl a chick,” you say. “At least not to her face.”

“Right,” Rafe says with an easy laugh. He slowly steps towards you, his eyelids heavy as he looks down at you. “You have nice tits.”

You feel your skin burn, looking down at your chest in your tank-top. Rafe hardens the longer he looks at you.

“How sweet,” you say flatly.

Rafe smirks and sits down next to you, getting right to business as he pulls you in for a kiss. His lips are warm and surprisingly soft. He tastes like cinnamon toothpaste and smells like aftershave.

He’s a good kisser. But you expected as much. By his confidence and the fact that he prepositioned you the way he did, you can tell he’s experienced with girls.

You feel his hand slide up your body and squeeze your breast. You sit back, disjointing your lips.

“Slow down,” you tell him. “Do you always go right into groping a girl like this?”

“Yeah?” His brows furrow.

“Okay, some might like it,” you say. “But most want foreplay. You have to give me some time to get turned on.”

“Aren’t you already?” he asks. “We’re kissing.”

“We’ve been at it for like, a second, Rafe. Just because you’re…” You look down at the tent in his sweatpants. “Ready, it doesn’t mean I am.”

“So, what should I do?” he asks.

“Just… don’t rush,” you say.

Rafe nods and leans into kiss you again, his hand cupping your waist this time. He doesn’t usually like kissing that much, typically wanting to jump right into sex, but the way your tongue runs over his is actually sort of nice.

A few moments later, his fingers dip to pull your top off. When Rafe sees you in your bra, he swallows hard. Why does he feel like this is his first time seeing a half-naked woman?

Probably because he’s being graded, he realizes.

“Wow,” he breathes. You look down, scratching your neck. “Damn, you do get nervous.”

“What?” you say.

“When a guy says wow, take the compliment,” he states.

You shyly shake your head and pull him in for another kiss to brush past the moment. He catches on, pushing you back.

“I’m teaching you shit, too, remember?” he mutters. “Don’t be shy. You’re hot.”

“Alright,” you groan, tugging at his shirt. “Take this off.”

He smirks and obeys, hoping he at least partly got through to you.

When your eyes roam Rafe’s bare torso, your heart pounds harder.

You continue making out, and he eventually slowly unhooks your bra. He peels it off and slowly cups your breast, fondling and gently squeezing.

“Is this too hard?” he asks.

“No, it’s - it’s good,” you sigh. You remind yourself this is supposed to be instructional. “You should… um…”

“What?” he asks against your lips. “Stop being shy.”

“Play with my nipples,” you say, cheeks burning. “Some girls like that.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.” He looks down at your chest and softly pinches you, then rubs his thumb back and forth. “Good.”

Rafe is entirely hard now, your praise making him ache to be inside you. But he’s here to learn. He needs to go slower.

He dips to put his mouth on your chest, his lips locking around your nipple. You let out a shaky moan and he knows he’s doing something right.

Big hands gently press against your hips to push you onto your back. You settle on your firm bed, hands roaming over his smooth back.

He shifts to give your other breast the same amount of attention, coating your nipple in his warm spit. You bite your lip, feeling your stomach tighten in arousal.

“Can I go down on you?” he rasps.

You meet his eyes. Rafe realizes just how pleased you look already. It’s really gratifying.

“Yeah,” you whisper. He eagerly pulls down your bottoms and panties in one move, losing his breath when his eyes take you in.

“Goddamn.” His voice is strained. You’re already glistening and he wants to put his mouth on you immediately.

“Go slow there, too,” you say. “Kiss my thighs first.”

“Okay,” he says, nodding urgently. It’s satisfying seeing him listen to you like this, considering he doesn’t seem to care for rules.

Your thighs are so damn soft against his mouth. He peppers kisses up your skin. It’s taking all his willpower not to start eating you out right now.

Your breaths are shallow as he leaves languid, tender kisses on you. You feel his fingers stretch your lips apart and hear him sharply inhale.

“Now?” he asks impatiently.

“Yeah. Lick everywhere,” you say, “but pay the most attention to my clit. You know where it is, right?”

“I’m not that fucking helpless,” he mutters. You can’t help but laugh.

He lowers his mouth onto you and you tremble immediately. He laps at you for a few seconds, a groan escaping his lips.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “You taste really fucking good.”

“Do you always talk like that?” you ask.

“Yeah, is it okay?” Rafe says, suddenly tense.

“It’s amazing,” you admit. “Keep doing it.”

“Yeah?” he says with a smile. He points his tongue over your clit, wriggling it over your flesh.

“That’s good,” you tell him. “Make your tongue flat, too. Switch between the two.”

You feel him nod against you, avidly taking every tip.

“And suck a little,” you tell him. Rafe didn’t think he’d like being bossed around, but the way you’re telling him what feels good and making him better at eating pussy is rewarding.

He starts to suck at your clit and the way you moan tells him everything he needs to know. He sucks harder and your breath gets shaky.

Rafe is desperate to see how the inside of you feels, even if it’s just with his fingers. He shifts to slowly dip a finger in your cunt and glances up to look at you.

“Can I finger you?” he says.

“Yes,” you nod. “It’s good to ask. Start with one.”

He slowly sinks into you, stopping at his knuckle. You’re so tight.

“Shit, baby,” Rafe whispers. “I know you’re gonna squeeze my cock so good.”

Your head is spinning. You’ve never had a man talk to you like this before. This is what you’ve been missing out on, hooking up with guys who didn’t care about your pleasure? It feels unfair.

He adds a finger, curling into you and feeling you clench around him as he continues to work your clit. You look down to enjoy the sight of his head between your legs, the tips of soft dirty blonde hair tickling your skin.

It’s intoxicating, being taken care of the way you want to be.

Rafe’s jaw starts to get sore, but your noises give him the drive to keep going. Eventually, your thighs press against your ears.

“I’m gonna cum,” you mumble. “Don’t stop.” Rafe’s stomach twists with excitement, fully alert and eager to take mental notes.

Your breath stops, your muscles tense, and your walls flutter around him as you meet your peak. Sparks of pleasure fire throughout your body and you tug at the roots of his hair.

He keeps sucking and licking and pumping his fingers until you shuffle beneath him, overstimulated.

“Okay,” you sigh. “Good, that’s good.”

Rafe sits up, his lips wet with your arousal. You look happy, yet somehow kind of guilty. He makes a mental note to figure out how to make you unashamed for having a sex drive.

The way you’re panting is making him so fucking turned on that it hurts.

“I need to fuck you,” he says.

“Yeah,” you say breathlessly, hoping he’d say that. “Do you have something?”

He nods, pulling a condom wrapper out of his pocket. He takes his pants and boxers off at the same time and he springs out.

You never thought you’d think a cock could be perfect, but there’s no other way to describe it.

He leans over you, looking down as he lines himself up and slowly sinks into you. You watch him shut his eyes with pleasure, but when he opens them again, you look down at his body.

“So shy,” Rafe teases, his voice thick. “Make eye contact.”

You listen to him, meeting his eyes. It adds an entirely new level of pleasure and vulnerability, looking at each other while he starts to rock in and out of you.

He starts to thrust faster, revelling in the way your tits are bouncing with his force. His strokes are deep and powerful and you whimper over how nice it feels.

His balls feel tight already. He never cums this fast. There’s something about you that’s making his body react like this. But knowing you already orgasmed, he doesn’t let himself overthink it.

“Feels good?” Rafe asks with amusement in his tone. You moan in response. At least he doesn’t need to improve on this part.

He goes harder, losing his rhythm as he reaches his climax, trembling over you. The way he breathes through it is so unbelievably hot to you.

Once Rafe slows down, he collapses on top of you, his chest pressed against yours.

“How was that?” he mumbles.

“I don’t think your ego needs to get any bigger,” you say breathlessly. “But that was good.”

“Just good?”

You laugh. Okay, it was fucking mind-blowing. He doesn’t need to know that, though.

“Yup,” you say, patting his shoulder. “Let me up.”

“What - what could I have done better?” he asks, sitting up off of you, pulling out. “I listened to everything you said. I swear, I never cum that fast.”

You smirk. He’s desperate for the praise.

“Fine,” you say. “It was amazing, okay? Don’t let it get to your head, frat boy.”

It definitely gets to his head. You can tell by the way he’s smiling.

“What position did that guy want you to try? Wanna do it?” he asks. You shake your head in disbelief. He could probably go all night.

“Next time,” you say, exhausted, your muscles weak.

Rafe’s disappointed, but he doesn’t show it.

“Okay,” he agrees. “Next time.”

part two

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thelaisydazy · 2 months

Text

Firefighter!Simon Riley x Reader - Locked Out

“Riley! Bad dog!”

You don’t have time to look up before a familiar German Shepherd barrels into you, knocking you to the ground and sending your keys skittering across the sidewalk.

You sputter as the dog licks your face before a hand grips Riley’s collar and pulls him off you. You wipe the dog slobber from your face and look up expecting to see Simon, instead you see a broad man with a short mohawk, attempting to reign in the overexcited dog.

“Sorry leannan, dinnae mean fur ‘im tae get away from me,” he said as you started to get back on your feet.

“S’alright,” you say, brushing off your pants. You give him a quick once over. He's wearing jeans and a tight fitting navy T-shirt with the fire department’s emblem on it.

He gives you a lopsided grin. “Lek whit ye see, bonnie?” He teases.

Your face feels warm as you attempt to stutter out a response.

“I'm only joking, lasso,” he chuckles at your embarrassment. He glances at the bakery door. “Gett’n off yer joab? Ye must be that wee thing the LT acts so sweet aboot.”

You stare at him for several moments, having little idea what he's saying. “I uh… I was just getting off work yeah,” you finally say. “Bakery's closed for the day, sorry.”

“Oh naw, I wasn’t look’n tae buy anyfing,” he said warmly. “Jus’ walkin’ Riley ‘ere.” He stuck a hand out. “Ye can call me Johnny.”

You shake his hand, giving him your name as well. “It’s nice to meet you,” you say. “I don’t mean to rush off, but I need to get home.” You stick your hands in your pockets, finally registering that your keys weren’t in their usual place. You pat your other pockets before looking around at the ground.

“Whit ye look’n fer?” Johnny asked.

“My keys,” you say. “I think I dropped them when Riley ran up.” Your eyes scan the sidewalk before spotting the storm drain by the curb. Johnny seems to read your mind as he walks over and looks through the grate.

“Wee charm oan it?” he asks.

You groan. Of course your keys had fallen into the storm drain. How were you supposed to get into your apartment now? Your landlord was away on holiday and he hadn’t left a spare behind. He wouldn’t be back until tomorrow night. You’d just spend the night in the bakery, but you’d already locked up for the night and no one would be back until morning.

Johnny seems to sense your distress as he claps you on the back, knocking you from your thoughts. “Ye can stay wi’ us at th’ station house,” he suggested. “We can even get yer keys oot th’ drain fur ye.”

“I don’t wanna be a both-” you start to say but are cut off by Johnny.

“Dinna fash!” he beamed at you. “ Nae trouble at all.”

Before you could protest, Johnny wraps a muscular arm over your shoulder and starts to guide you back to the station, grinning to himself as Riley trotted happily next to you. Simon was going to love this.

---

As a treat, here's a second one today <3

#call of duty #cod fanfic #cod #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #firefighter!simon riley #firefighter!ghost #141 firefighters #firefighter!soap #firefighter!john mactavish #soap #john soap mactavish x oc #john mactavish

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bigfatbimbo · 3 months

Note

How about dragging a sleepy Lucifer away from his work? As he insists that he just needs "5 more minutes" as his eyes are closed and he's laying half limp in your arms. Sleepingly mumbling that he can get ready for bed himself as you wash him up and then carry him to bed.

(I imagine that he doesn't usually get taken care of like this. He's much more used to falling asleep at his work bench and waking up with a sore back and a pounding headache. Even though he's embrassed about you seeing him in a such a state, and feels a little guilty about you being "forced" to take care of him, he can't help but lean into your soft touches)

- 🎀

a/n — GOD THIS IS SUCH A CUTE PREMISE HES SUCH A WORKAHOLIC HE NEEDS TO BE TREATED LIKE THE PRINCESS HE IS <33

You had knocked on Lucifer’s already half opened door to his workshop, making it creak loudly.

You scanned the room quickly, taking in the mess. There were rubber ducks everywhere, trash on the floor, scrapped projects scattered across the various tables.

And then your eyes fell on Lucifer, head resting on his desk, looking perfectly sound asleep. You internally roll your eyes, not understanding why he does this to himself.

Causally you make your way over to Lucifer, picking up pieces of trash on the way and organizing things here and there, hoping to make the room look less chaotic.

When you finally get to the sleeping demon, your hands gently rub his back, coaxing him awake.

He groans quietly, “‘m so close to finishing just,” he yawns, “just five more minutes…”

His sentence trails off unconvincingly and you scoop him up bridal style in your arms. He nuzzles into your chest and wraps his arms around your neck to subconsciously bring you closer.

“I think you’re about ready for bed, honey,” you say sweetly, planting a kiss on his forehead.

“nonono, this is important…” he trails off before regaining his strong of thoughts, “important stuff, very important. ‘m gonna finish it tonight.”

“Uh-huh,” you smile fondly as you place him down on his bed. He continued quietly stammering about all the work he was getting done while you undress and place him in his pajamas.

Which mainly consisted of his boxers and an old t-shirt. Then, you got an old towel damp and began wiping off the dust and grime from his work table that had ended up on his face when he fell asleep.

He whined at the cold feeling of the water. You shushed him softly and, after you were satisfied with your work, you crawled into bed next to him.

Wrapping your arms around him, you heard Lucifer release a long content sigh, nuzzling his back into your stomach. He was absolutely adorable like this, being held by you.

It didn’t take long for him to fall fast asleep.

The early morning light beamed in from the window and fell on Lucifer’s face, waking him up from one of the best sleeps he’d had in a while. He took a moment to assess his situation, a warm comfy bed instead of his workbench, a loose t-shirt and—

and your arms wrapped around his middle, pulling him closer to you. He might as well have slapped himself on the forehead right then.

Not only did he not get any work done, he had made you take care of him in the process. How humiliating.

You stirred behind him, “Good morning, baby.” You place a kiss on his neck as a greeting.

He was silent for a moment.

“You— you didn’t have to do that,” he spoke quietly, ashamed of himself.

It took a moment for you to remember what exactly he was referring to.

”No, I didn’t,” you say, unslinging your arms from around him. He silently mourned the loss of contact.

“But I wanted too,” you caress his cheek with your thumb. “I want to see you well rested, Luci. That’s why I took care of you. Simply because I wanted too.”

Once again, he had to pause before he spoke. This time, however, it was because he felt tears well up in his eyes and he didn’t want to cry in front of you. Not after giving you all that trouble.

“I just don’t understand why you would want to,” he said simply, looking down.

You sat up and paused, trying to think of the best way to go about the situation.

In one simple motion you lunged for him, both of your hands resting in his jawline and you peppered him with kisses all over his face.

“What are you—“ he couldn’t help but smile, “What are you doing, y/n, oh my goodness!” He giggled loudly as you assaulted him with your lips.

“I just,” you said as you placed multiply kisses on his cheek, “think your,” more on his nose, “amazing.”

You finish on his lips, a peck and first and then a deeper tender kiss.

When you finally pull away he looked dazed, “Well it’s, um, it’s hard to argue with that, my love.” A small giggle escaped his lips one last time.

You leaned back on the bed and opened your arms to him, inviting him in.

This time, he launched himself towards you with no protests.

Only slightly teary eyes as he buried his head into your chest and sank into your arms.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #lucifer morningstar #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fluff

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rinhaler · 5 months

Note

toji fucking his step daughter because his wife won’t give him any attention and she’s the second best thing :3

-🌹

daddy toji my beloved :3

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, praise (good girl), biting, age gap, stepcest, cheating, daddy kink, creampie, bimbofication, virginity loss, fingering, masturbation.

words: 2k

Toji doesn’t know what to think, what to feel, whenever he sees you floating around the house. You’re confident, that he knows. Short skirts and tiny t-shirts are usually your go to attire, whether you’re at home or going out with your friends, you often dress scantily.

He tried scolding you about it, but you didn’t listen. And his wife, well, maybe if she supported him more he wouldn’t be thinking such oh so inappropriate things about his cute little step daughter.

“Where is she?” you ask, rudely, snapping Toji from his thoughts as you lean across the breakfast bar. He has to force himself to not look down your top, your cleavage on full display. Though his eyes do slip downward when he realises you aren’t even looking at him, too engrossed with your phone. “Said she’d give me money t’get my nails done.” you tell him, and he now knows you’re referring to your mother.

“She’s back to school shopping with Megumi.” he tells you, breaking his stare from your low cut crop top and looking into your eyes. Have you always been so skanky?

You’re a grown woman. He can’t believe you’re still leaching off of your mother. Nails can’t be that expensive. You should get a job and pay for them yourself. What makes you so special that you just get whatever you want just because you asked?

“Oh, well, you’ll have to gimme it.” you smile at him briefly before texting your friends again. You don’t even notice when he scoffs, shaking his head in disappointment.

What’s annoying him more is the fact that you’re reminding him so much of your fucking mother. Before she grew up, before they grew old, she was exactly like you. Vapid and gorgeous. She had him wrapped around her little finger back in the day, and he’s sure you are the same with every boy you come into contact with.

He feels his cock strain against his slacks as he thinks about all of hot and wild sex they used to have back then. Honestly, these days, he doesn’t remember the last time he got his dick wet. Now he’s just a miserable, pent up dad in a regular marriage. That’s life though, right? That’s just what happens as you get older.

Your wife loses interest and you develop a porn addiction.

“I’m not pay—”

You silence him as you pull your old school pink flip phone to your ear and hold up a finger in front of him, smiling when you hear your friends voice. “Yeah I’ll be there in thirty! Daddy’s givin’ me the money.” you beam at him, your shoulders bouncing as you talk excitedly.

Toji shakes his head again, reaching into his back pocket to grab his wallet.

He’s wrapped around your finger, like mother like fuckin’ daughter.

“I’m not fucking Satoru!” you tell your friend, rolling your eyes. Your step father freezes, for just a moment, before pulling out some money from his wallet. You look down at his hand and see the pitiful amount, taking his wallet from him and stealing a few extra bank notes while you rest your phone between your ear and shoulder. “Ugh. No one believes me! Do you? Whenever I tell anyone ‘m a virgin they think I’m lying.”

“Hang up the phone.” Toji tells you, but you barely hear him. You look at him for a split second before focusing on the call again.

“No, I didn’t! I sucked him off and that’s all I’ve done.” you huff. “Also my step dad is here so, like, stop talking about it.”

“Kid, hang up the fuckin’ phone.” he tells you, louder.

“Wait a sec,” you tell your friend, moving the phone away from your ear. “What?”

“Hang. Up.”

“Oh my God!” you moan, “I’ll meet you there, Toji wants to talk to me— yeah I’m probably getting in trouble because of you! Hahaaaa okay, byeeee~!” you smile, hanging up and giving your full attention to your step-father. He doesn’t speak, and neither do you. Not for a while, not until the silence makes you too uncomfortable to keep it going. “Is this ‘cuz of the money? You didn’t give me enough.”

“I— no, sweetheart.” he shakes his head. “Were you lyin’ to your friend, just now? About being a virgin?”

“Hm? No, why?”

Toji huffs out a breath, his cheeks filling with air as he thinks things through. He’s shocked, to say the least. He always thought you were putting out like a pro. He knows you’ve been on birth control for years. He’s had to drive you to get your injection a few times. He never thought about it much, just a regular dad chore when your mother wasn’t available.

But you’re a woman, now.

He’s surprised you haven’t been fucking since you were a teenager. But he’s even more surprised that you aren’t sexually active, now. He can’t help but wonder why. What’s stopping you? You dress like a slut, after all. Why aren’t you acting like one?

He reaches over and grabs his wallet and the money from your hand. You want to protest, but he walks by you too quickly for you to object. He hurries up the stairs and slams the door after himself.

“A— Am I grounded?!” you yell, hoping for a response.

Nothing.

You follow up the stairs, running up them as best you can in your high heels, and wait outside of his bedroom door. You knock a few times, and get no response. So you begin to pound on the door.

“Toji! You can’t ground me anymore!”

“You’re not grounded, come here.” he instructs. You open the door and walk into the room. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, belt unbuckled and zipper down. He must be changing into something comfier to wear around the house. “Sit.” he tells you, patting his hand on his lap.

You go to him, immediately, sitting sweetly on his thick thighs as he thinks about what to say.

“Didn’t realise you were such a good girl,” he tells you, kissing your shoulder softly. “You’re like a nice version of your mother.”

“Should divorce her if y’don’t like her, daddy.” you tell him, looking down at your imperfect nails. You giggle when you feel him bounce you on his leg.

“Maybe I should.” he tells you. “But I’ll be lonely.”

“You’ll have me ‘n Megumi!” you remind him. “Well, maybe not me as much, but, y’know.”

“Ah, sweetheart, don’t wanna lose you. Not now, not ever.” he kisses your shoulder again. “How come you’re a virgin, huh? Savin’ it?”

“Mhmm… wanna give it to someone special.” you tell him, looking his direction and batting your pretty, false eyelashes. “Everyone thinks ‘m a slut… but ‘m not! Promise! Makes me embarrassed that I haven’t done it yet, sometimes, though.”

His cock aches as he hears you talk. How dumb yet adorable you sound as you discuss your sex life, or lack there of. He isn’t even a little surprised that people don’t believe you, he wouldn’t have believed it himself if you hadn’t told him. He can see in your pathetically wet eyes, though, that you’re being truthful.

He is overwhelmed by the need to bare his soul to you. To tell you what he wants. What he needs and desires from you most right now. There’s no shame within him as he puts his hand down his pants and wraps his hand around his cock, pulling it free. He holds your body in place with his free hand, his arm possessing enough strength to keep you firmly in place.

You’re just like your mother.

If your mother wasn’t a cold, celibate bitch.

“Daddy wants to be your someone special, darlin’.” he informs you, words warbling as he pleasures himself behind your back.

You can hear it. You can hear the tacky sound of his cock being rubbed again and again. The way his breath and speech is slightly uneven. He sinks his teeth into your bare shoulder and you wince. It’s not too hard, but it was unexpected.

He’s surprised you don’t object when he splits your legs apart so that you’re straddling one of his thighs. His hand roams up your thigh and beneath your skirt, towards your clothed cunt. Though when he gets too close, your legs shut, quickly.

“You’re my daddy, you can’t touch me there!” you remind him. But he knows. He knows he’s your daddy and that’s exactly why you should let him. Admittedly, part of you wants him to. You want to feel someone make contact with your untouched core for the very first time.

Someone that isn’t you.

You’re sure Toji is very experienced. He’s so handsome, even now. You’ve seen pictures of him when he was your age over two decades ago. He’s beautiful, like a film star. You know he was fucking like it was going out of fashion.

Your mother has told you what a stallion he is in bed, you’re close like that. There’s no secrets or shame between you. And honestly, it did make you feel a little jealous. You felt like you were missing out on something. Sex, in general, and Toji.

But you never thought you’d be like this, with him.

“Baby, who’s gonna make you feel more special than your daddy, hah?” he asks. You feel your resolve weakening as he kisses your neck deliciously. You want to scream at him, to tell him where you want him to touch you.

He teases your body until your arching and squirming to follow his touch. And you practically cream around his thigh when he lifts up your top and tweaks your nipple. You’re weightless in his hold as he moves you around like you’re his little doll. He licks and laves over your pulse point while playing with your tits. His free hand moves your panties aside with a goal in mind. Two thick fingers slide effortlessly into your tight, virgin slot. The resistance is there but he ignores it. You ignore it.

And within minutes you’re having your first orgasm on account of another person. You aren’t sure why your mother has stopped having sex with Toji, you’d be begging him for it every chance you got if this brief encounter is anything to go by.

“Fuck me, daddy, please? Please—”

“Thought daddy’s can’t touch their little girls there?” he smirks, already helping you turn around to face him. He kisses you, sloppily, as he lines his thick cock up with your tight hole. “Sh, sh, shhh, baby… good girl, c’mon, take daddy’s cock. Jus’ like that.” he talks you through it as you sob. Little cunt stretching to accommodate his monstrous size.

“T-Too big! Daddy’s too big for me!” you tell him, though he silences you with another kiss.

Truth be told, he doesn’t particularly care if it hurts or not anymore. He doesn’t care if you can’t take him, because you will. He does all of the work for you, lifting you up and down like a toy while he thrusts up into you.

He almost cums from the sight of your eyes turning white and your tongue hanging out as he pummels into your sweet spot. He wonders if you’ll keep telling your friends you’re a virgin. It’ll be a fun little secret, for both of you, he thinks.

He finishes with a string of grunts, fucking his seed deep into you again and again until he’s got nothing left to give.

You feel so icky and sweaty as he starts to calm down from his release. He kisses you, sweetly, thanking you repeatedly. He needed this badly. It’s not even just sex anymore. He’s tired of feeling lonely and he’s tired of being neglected.

You’re not your mother though, are you?

You won’t make him feel like that.

“Don’t tell her, sweetheart.” he tells you, brushing your hair from your face and kissing your cheek. He grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger, guiding you to look at him as he speaks. “This stays between you ‘n me, alright?”

“Mhmm!” you nod, leaning forward eagerly to kiss his lips. “Always wanted you to be my special person…” you confess.

“Yeah?” he smiles at that, you really are sweet when you want to be.

“Wanna do it again, daddy. Can we?”

“Of course,” he nods, “I’m addicted to this little pussy, now.”

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libraryofgage · 6 months

Text

Good Vibrations Two

This AU got a lot more attention than I expected actually hfjdks I'm so glad everyone likes it!

Anyway, here's part two! We get some concert, some peeks at how Robin helps Steve navigate social situations, and a little Eddie having an itsy-bitsy crisis over Steve's fashion choices.

Have fun! And, as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't (especially for this one since I wrote most of it on my phone actually lmao)

----

Steve stares at the shirts laid out on his bed, arms crossed over his chest. Choosing jeans had been easy, but choosing a shirt is giving him trouble. What do you wear to a metal show at the local dive bar for a small-town band in which the lead singer is a long-time and way-out-of-your-league crush that you've been holding a candle for since the first time you saw him laugh on top of a cafeteria table?

You definitely don't show up in a plain black shirt, that's for sure.

The lights in the hall outside Steve's room flicker, switching off and on three times. Steve just barely notices, which means he doesn't get his pants scared off when Robin appears in the doorway, grinning at him while pocketing the key to the front door he'd given her months ago into a messenger bag. "Hey, dingus," she says, striding into the room and flopping onto the bed.

Steve rolls his eyes, yanking the shirts out from under her and laying them once more over Robin's stomach and legs. "What shirt should I wear?" he asks.

It takes a few seconds for Steve to look from the shirts to Robin, and she patiently waits until he's staring at her to say, "Just pick one. Nobody's gonna care what you're wearing."

"I care," Steve says, frowning as he looks back at the shirts. For the aforementioned crush reason, Steve cares very much about the shirt he wears. "What says 'Hi, we've never talked before but your music is the only thing I can hear and I think your hair is in desperate need of quality shampoo and also I've been halfway in love with you since, like, sophomore year'?"

Robin considers the question for a long moment before picking up a red sweater. "This one says 'I'm horny'," she offers.

Steve blinks, staring at the sweater for a few beats before laughing. "But I'm not," he says.

Despite looking at Robin, she happens to angle her head toward the sweater, and her response is lost on Steve. He frowns, waits until her jaw has stopped moving, and says, "I didn't get that."

After Robin first learned about Steve's deafness, he'd been overly anxious about asking her to repeat things. Somehow, it was worse to constantly ask when the person knew he couldn't hear well, if at all. But Robin had never shown annoyance; she'd just adjust her posture, make sure Steve could see her lips, and repeat her words. She does all of this now, and Steve gets to read her joking response, "Yeah, but you will be."

And, yeah, she has him there. Steve huffs and collapses onto the bed beside her, sacrificing the shirts. "I'll need a jacket," he says, turning his head to look at Robin so he can read her response.

Instead of words, though, he sees her face light up, and she jumps off the bed. Steve sits up, watching as she digs in her messenger bag before pulling out a t-shirt. "Remember when I stayed over a few weeks ago? And you let me borrow a shirt? You should wear it!"

Thankfully, Robin waits until she's done talking to throw the shirt in Steve's face. Honestly, he only understood a few words ("remember," "borrow," and "wear") but he's gathered enough context clues to get the gist of things.

He spreads the shirt out, humming at the Iron Maiden design. It's not one he wears often; for the most part, it's a shirt he wears on lazy days at home because of how soft it is. But as he's studying the design, Steve is suddenly hit with a stroke of pure genius.

He quickly changes into the shirt and then grabs a varsity jacket (not his letterman, but one he'd seen at the mall and bought on a whim because it used a nice shade of yellow) off his desk, tugging it on over the shirt but leaving it unbuttoned. After a few more seconds of digging around, he finds sneakers under the bed and tugs them on.

"Okay," he says, turning so Robin can see the outfit from every angle. He comes to a stop when he's facing her once more, hands buried in his jacket pockets, and asks, "What do you think? How's it look?"

"I think you'll give Eddie a crisis," Robin replies, wrinkling her nose at the varsity jacket. "Not, like, a bad one. But he'll probably ask where you got the shirt from."

Steve grins, thinking that sounds about perfect, and turns to study himself in the mirror. It's a surprisingly solid blend of metal and jock, and it makes him feel oddly confident, the same way he felt the first time he did his hair just right and everyone complimented it.

"Perfect," he decides. "Let's go."

----

The ride to the Hideout isn't exactly quiet, but it's not like Steve can talk and drive at the same time. So it's filled with music blasted as high as it can go on his car stereo, causing the whole vehicle to vibrate with each beat. When he finally turns the car off after parking, Robin grimaces as she rubs her ears.

She waits for Steve to be in front of her before saying, "We're putting the windows down next time."

"Oh. Sorry," Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck a little awkwardly as Robin dismissively waves off his apology.

"No, it's fine, I'm just saying. Now, let's get inside before they start."

With that, she loops her arm through Steve's and drags him into the Hideout. They're hit with a wave of cigarette smoke, spilled beer, and sweat as they walk through the door, the combined smells making Steve dizzy. He frowns, leaning closer to Robin as she squeezes his arm. He feels her thumb tap him twice, their code for asking if the other is okay.

"I'm fine," he mumbles, nodding to a table in the corner. "Let's go sit. I just need to get used to...everything."

The lights are weird, too. Despite the place being dim, the few lights that are on are flickering, and Steve is having trouble processing all the new information his (working) senses are taking in.

Thankfully, Robin pulls him over to the table he pointed to, a small circle near a stage of dubious sturdiness. It looks like it can barely hold the instruments, much less those plus the people who will play them. There's an amp on the side of the stage near the table, which means they'll have the perfect spot to feel the music's vibrations. Steve slides into one of the chairs there and closes his eyes, resting his arms on a table that is surprisingly not sticky.

He feels Robin move the other chair next to him, slide in, and start pulling things out of her bag. When Steve opens his eyes again, there's a notebook between them and a variety of pens in all different colors spread out across the open pages. Robin has already picked up a red pen and is writing with it as Steve chooses a purple one.

When Robin is done writing, she taps the page so Steve can read, "Want something to drink?"

"I'm not sure we can trust the glasses here," he writes back.

"The fact you're calling them "glasses" tells me everything. Just sit tight."

With that, Robin drops her pen, winks at Steve, and heads over to the bar where a woman is wiping the counter. Steve watches her for a few seconds before looking around at the other people in the place. Most of them are sitting in groups, talking amongst themselves. Most of them also have mustaches or beards, making it downright impossible for Steve to read their lips.

Instead, Steve just gets a dull kind of rush in his ears, an ever-present background noise he can't escape. Soon enough, maybe because he's thinking about it too much, a high-pitched ringing starts up in his right ear, growing and growing in pitch until it's all he can focus on. Steve grimaces and looks down at the notebook, trying to keep his shoulders relaxed so he doesn't look as tense as he feels. The ringing persists, and he rubs his ear like that's going to help.

His ear is still ringing, though it has started to diminish, when a water bottle is placed in front of him. Steve jerks, forcing himself to calm down as Robin slides into her seat again with a mug of beer that's more foam than anything else. "They're about to start," she says, waiting until Steve has nodded once to show understanding before taking a sip.

Steve looks up at the stage and wonders how he missed Eddie and his friends arriving. As his friends are setting up behind him, Eddie is resting one hand on the neck of his guitar and using the other to hold the mic close to his mouth. Steve can't read his lips, but Eddie's grin is a little contagious as he says something to a guy by the bar. The guy must say something back, because Eddie bursts out laughing, his head thrown back to show off a neck Steve wants to bite.

A tap on his arm brings his attention away, and he looks at the notebook to see Robin has scrawled out a transcript:

"Eddie: Thanks for coming out tonight, everyone

Guy: Fuck off, Munson

Eddie: Love you, too, Jeremy"

Steve snorts, looking up to see Robin's equally amused smile as she continues to write on another page. When he glances at the stage, Steve sees Eddie still talking into the mic, his eyes roaming over the audience until they reach Steve and Robin. Eddie seems to grip the mic tighter, and he holds Steve's eyes for a few seconds, giving just enough time for Steve to wave awkwardly before Eddie looks away. But his smile seems a little bigger than before, and Steve is happy to let himself think he caused it.

When he looks down again, Robin has finished writing, and she nudges the notebook closer to him. Eddie must talk fast, because her writing is almost indistinguishable from chicken scratch in dirt that a cat got dragged through. Thankfully, Steve is an expert at this point.

"Eddie: Anyway, you know the drill. We'll start with some Metallica, treat you to Iron Maiden, throw in a dash of Black Sabbath, and then grace you with a Corroded Coffin original. If you don't like it, not my problem."

Steve feels the beginning of the set as he finishes reading. He sits a little straighter, planting his feet firmly on the floor and placing his palms on the table with his fingers spread. Robin is still writing next to him, most likely transcribing the bits and pieces of conversation she can hear for Steve to read later and laugh at. She doesn't try to get his attention while she does, already knowing it won't be worth it after Steve has shifted into Music Mode.

In the same way that people can tell what song is playing based simply on the first note, Steve can sometimes tell based on the strength and length of the first vibration. In the same way people know the lyrics of songs after listening to them enough times, Steve knows the vibration patterns like the back of his hand. In the same way people who hear their favorite songs played live can tell when a note is wrong or a lyric is sung too fast, Steve can tell when the drummer or bassist makes tiny mistakes that wouldn't be caught otherwise.

And Steve loves it. He loves how his entire body thrums with each vibration that travels from the amp. He loves how he can close his eyes and picture a story based on the music, one that probably doesn't match the lyrics but tends to replace them in his heart. He loves that this is something he can still share with his friends, even if most of them don't realize how different his experience with music is.

So, for all the little bumps and dips that occur in the vibrations as Corroded Coffin plays, for all the tiny slips that certainly go unnoticed by anyone else, and for all the fact that Steve doesn't get to hear Eddie's voice, he can confidently say he loves the show. He's never heard the songs played like this before, and it helps diminish the gut-deep desperation for new music.

And then Corroded Coffin starts a new song. It's one Steve doesn't recognize, one with vibrations that are completely foreign to him, and he jerks his head up to watch Eddie play his guitar in an opening solo. It thrums across the floor, climbing up his legs and spreading in waves from his palms on the table. Steve feels goosebumps chase after it, a new wave washing over him when the guitar solo ends with a particularly strong vibration that's immediately followed by the drums and bass.

Eddie throws himself into the music, moving and twisting and strutting around the stage like he's playing to Madison Square Garden. Steve can't look away, the lyrics incomprehensible but replaced by the jerk of Eddie's hips and the tilt of his head and the little half-spin he does on his heel.

It ends too quickly with one final, reverberating strum that lingers in Steve's bones, burrowing into his marrows as Eddie pushes his hair back and grins into the mic. He says something breathlessly, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly as he tries to catch his breath, and Steve knows he's gone.

He's hopeless.

He's desperate.

He needs more Corroded Coffin, more Eddie, in whatever form he can get.

----

For the first time, Corroded Coffin gets genuine applause after playing. Usually, the patrons of the Hideout will politely clap (if they even notice the set is over) for about two seconds. Tonight, however, Eddie and his friends are graced with excited clapping, a few shouts, and one very strong whistle from a small table to the left of the stage. And it spreads because even rough biker dudes can fall to peer pressure when it's that enthusiastic.

So, yeah, genuine applause all because of Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley who, Eddie thinks, is surprising company for the former King of Hawkins High. No matter how unexpected, he should still thank them and ask what they thought of the set now that it's over. He carefully sets his guitar on a stand and glances over his shoulder, catching Jeff's gaze and flashing a grin. "I'll be right back," he says before jumping off the stage and heading over to Steve and Robin's table.

As he gets closer, he notices the notebook and pens spread out, colorful writing filling the pages and Steve grinning with amusement as he reads it. Robin is watching him like she's waiting for him to understand an inside joke already so they can laugh about it together. If Eddie didn't already know Robin was like him (band camp, summer after his junior year, during an unfortunate game of Seven Minutes in Heaven where they awkwardly stood in a closet together before Robin commented on his black bandana), he'd wonder if something was going on between them.

"How'd you like the set?" Eddie asks when he reaches the table, suddenly nervous enough to tug on a lock of his hair and pull it in front of his mouth.

Robin looks up, but Steve doesn't. He's still reading the notebook, snorting at whatever is written there like he didn't hear Eddie. It's not until Robin elbows him that he raises his head, eyes widening when he sees Eddie. "Sorry, could you repeat that?" Steve asks, his gaze dropping to Eddie's mouth (Eddie definitely isn't imagining that) and faltering some.

"I asked if you liked the set," Eddie says, frowning slightly as Robin grabs a pen and scribbles something on the notebook. It's too small for him to read, but he doesn't miss how Steve glances down for less than a second before his eyes light up with realization.

"Oh!" he says, looking back at Eddie and flashing a charming grin. "It was great. You guys are so loud, and I've never f-uh, heard anything like your original song before."

Eddie catches the way Steve fumbles, faltering like he wanted to say one word but forced himself to say another. Something is tugging at the back of Eddie's mind, but he can't quite grab onto it just yet. For now, he leans forward, placing both hands on the table so he can be closer to Steve. "You listen to metal often, Harrington?" he asks.

Steve stares at his mouth for a few seconds before nodding, and Eddie feels the thrill of learning something completely unexpected. "I like Black Sabbath best, but Judas Priest and Guns N' Roses are close seconds," Steve says.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, "What do you like most about it?" He wants to know. Does Steve Harrington (King Steve, Steve "The Hair" Harrington, Steve fucking Harrington) like metal for the same reasons he does? Does he like the stories and the passion and the heavy theatricality of it all?

Steve seems to hesitate, possibly thinking about how to answer, before finally saying, "I like how it's music I can feel. When I listen to metal, it digs into my bones. Other music doesn't."

Somehow, Eddie's grin gets impossibly wider, and his cheeks are hurting from the sheer force of it. He's about to say more when Robin glances at the clock and swears under her breath. "Shit, I promised Mom I'd be home ten minutes ago," she says, grabbing the pens and recklessly throwing them into her bag.

It's the movement that seems to catch Steve's attention, and he looks down at Robin's hands before looking up at the clock. "Oh, fuck, your curfew," he says, looking at Robin like she hadn't just said the same thing two seconds ago.

"Yeah, no shit, dingus," Robin says, pausing long enough to speak while looking straight at Steve before throwing the notebook into her bag, too. She jumps to her feet and hauls Steve out of the chair, making his varsity jacket fall open to reveal an Iron Maiden shirt.

And Eddie thinks his heart just about stops. He doesn't know why, but seeing Steve in a metal band shirt under an undeniably jock jacket makes him feel....something. This is, like, sacrilege, right? How dare Steve Harrington allow Metal and Jock to meet? Doesn't he know the two styles clash? Or, well, they're supposed to clash, but Steve somehow wears them well, and Eddie thinks he's upset and annoyed by the fact.

Before Eddie can analyze that feeling, Steve says, "Sorry to run, Eddie. You played really well. Let me know when the next show is."

There's a lot to unpack there, too. Steve Harrington wants to come to another Corroded Coffin gig. Steve Harrington is sorry he has to cut the conversation short. Steve Harrington thinks his band played really well. Before Eddie can say anything in response, Robin is dragging Steve away, throwing a goodbye over her shoulder.

Eddie doesn't want Steve to go without something, though, some kind of departing word, so he shouts, "See ya later, big boy!"

Steve doesn't look back, but Robin nearly trips over the doorway. She then pauses long enough to say something to Steve, watching with sheer delight as he splutters and glances at Eddie before dragging her through the door. Eddie couldn't stop the grin if he tried, and he didn't try.

Later, when Eddie is sprawled on the floor of his room, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about Steve's stupid combination of Metal and Jock, he'll be struck by a sudden, consuming thought. What if Steve was wearing just the Iron Maiden shirt? What if he wore just the jacket?

Eddie swallows around the sudden lump in his throat, his mouth going dry as he scrambles to his feet and gets ready to take a very, very cold shower.

----

Tag List (the tag list is completely filled up! There definitely wasn't enough room for everyone who requested a tag orz

Please follow the tag "good vibrations Steddie" or put on notifications for my blog to see when new parts are posted :D)

@hallucinatedjosten, @queenie-ofthe-void, @r0binscript, @jewellthebooknerd, @paintgonewrong, @vacantwatchers, @newagemyth, @gutterflower77, @just-a-tiny-void, @littlebluejane

@whenindoubtb72, @different-tale-student, @sharingisntkaren, @current-steddie-brainrot, @willim-billiam-byerson, @nuggies4life

@lostgurl-12, @anomalygal, @synonym-for-strange, @sani-86, @missmagillicuddy, @ilikechocolatemilkh, @thoughtfulbreadpolice, @harringrieve, @awesomeimportantfan, @fredtheemoplant, @warlordess, @therealscarletpumpernickel, @gsvshsjsbs, @mightbeasleep, @mollymawkwrites

@lil-gremlin-things, @honorarybrit81, @sonny-ray-of-goth, @potent-idiocy, @fandomcartographer, @heartsong18, @lingeringmirth, @ko0kyco0kies, @ccomandercody, @spiderman-stilinski, @l0st-strawberry, @xxsky-shockxx, @stilesstickitinme, @boxsam, @thepansexualsnake, @37-screamingfrogs, @yourmom-isgay, @brainsteddielyrotted, @plasticcrotches, @hannahhook7744

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fluff #good vibrations steddie #deaf steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #steve harrington #stranger things #my writing

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coralinnii · 3 months

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Hi! How's it going?

Can I please request Leona, Riddle, Cater and Ace reacting to the reader wearing someone else's jacket?

‧₊˚✧New Jacket, Who Dis? ‧₊˚✧

↳ forgetting your jacket and wearing someone else’s

feat: Leona ❋ Riddle ❋ Cater ❋ Ace genre: humor, fluff note: no pronouns used for reader, reader is implied to be smaller than Floyd, nicknames used for reader (cutie, babe, baby), established relationships, reader is implied to be from Ramshackle,

I swear I will get these requests completed even if it kills me. Damn my tendency to go into hibernation during winter! Anyway, hope you guys enjoy the reading ^///^

Part 1 2.7k followers writing event

Leona has jackets?

I mean, you were sure Leona owns a plethora of high-end jackets and outerwear of the finest fabrics but be it a preference or perhaps too much of an effort, you rarely see the beastman wear anything other than a shirt and at best a dorm-mandated vest.

So, when you feel a chill down your spine on your way to class, the idea of asking your boyfriend for a jacket did not cross your mind. Can’t ask for what you’ve never seen.

A classmate of yours saw your pitiful form and offered you his school blazer. Something better than nothing, he thought.

Grateful, you were quick to take up his kind offer and practically snuggled your face into it for warmth. Now in a better mood, you got through the first half of the day and quickly made your way to the greenhouse where you suspect a certain lion beastman is hiding.

But it seems that said beastman wasn’t in high spirits as you were when with narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw, he raised his palm towards you signaling you to step no closer to him.

An unfamiliar scent unpleasantly wafted through Leona’s territory, and to his annoyance, you appeared to be the source of it.

No, not you…That wretched jacket.

Leona doesn’t have to ask. He can surmise the situation on his own, the weather was chilly, you being stupid enough to leave without something cozy, and some brave or stupid herbivore handing you something with his scent even though you were the partner of a beastman. Though irritating, logically this was not something surprising… but he doesn’t have to like it regardless.

And he doesn’t.

Pointing towards you, he further narrowed his gaze on the jacket that has tainted you with its irritating stench of another man. “Oi, take it off.”

Though confused, you did as he said (lest you want him even grumpier, you thought) and placed your friend’s jacket onto Leona’s outstretched hand.

Suddenly and without warning, the dark-haired upperclassman harshly tossed the fabric to a random direction, with such feelings of disgust and annoyance radiating off from Leona, you would think the jacket spat in his meal or something.

But no matter how many times you tried to ask for his reasons or how many times you begged him to let you go after pulling you into his arms so you could retrieve the abandoned jacket, Leona said nothing as he kept his grip strong around you as he fell asleep once more, lulled by your unobstructed scent.

“Ruggie can grab my jacket for you so quit harping about it…You feel bad for Ruggie for the trouble? Tch, who’s fault you think that is?”

Riddle’s appearance is perfect to a T. From his bow tie to his socks, the Heartslabyul housewarden chooses his attire to what is required; nothing is missing and nothing in excess.

Basically, he wouldn’t have a spare jacket nor can he part away from the required blazer of his school uniform despite how he honestly wanted to.

You understood his hesitance completely and didn’t probe further. Unfortunately, it left you noticeably shivering, and Floyd just had to mention your shivering form akin to a jittery guppy. Learning your predicament, the tall mischief-maker had a fun idea.

Which led to you finally leaving the classroom after Floyd finished his giggling fit seeing you looking practically devoured by his jacket. Floyd is a tall eel merman so the length of the sleeves and hem were certainly longer than an average uniform.

“Go ahead and wear it, just give it back later.” The sophomore graciously lent his jacket to you, but you suspected that he just wanted to prolong the humiliation.

At least you were grateful he wasn’t there to laugh at you when Riddle saw you in this mortifying position. The taller student would have probably coughed up his human lungs from laughing at your boyfriend's stunned expression.

“I…What is…” Riddle was dumbfounded. The sight of his beloved being swallowed by a jacket was not something he suspected. It is an amusing image to see, but definitely odd.

What’s the procedure for this? This was hardly appropriate school attire, but Riddle was stumped as to what to do next since he can’t think of a rule that addresses your lover being dressed in someone else’s jacket in a comical fashion.

Despite unable to complete his prior sentence, you knew what Riddle wanted to know. “…It’s Floyd’s. He thought it’d be funny.”

There was a burning sensation bubbling in Riddle when he thought about the Octavinelle rascal, how close and unnecessarily clingy he probably was to you as he took glee in his nonsensical pranks. Then, an unpleasant thought sat in the redhead’s mind as he watched you roll up the sleeves of Floyd’s jacket draped over your form. That eel gave you his jacket while Riddle, your boyfriend, didn’t.

"I supposed I should have expected this, given my choice."

Riddle let out a sigh before extending a hand to you, his face flushing a familiar red hue. “It may be redundant, but perhaps I could offer my own jacket? A warmer one at least, I wouldn’t want you to needlessly catch a cold.”

Happily, you took the sweet redhead’s offer. Walking together hand-in-hand, Riddle thought he could spare you a scolding about forgetting your jacket in the first place, so long as you rectify his mood by wearing his jacket instead.

“As your boyfriend it should be my duty to protect and care for you, no one else’s.”

Cater would have no problem with sharing his jacket with you, if he can take some cute pictures of course. His wardrobe has a mixture of trendy and cool clothing due to his time at the Pop Music Club. It wasn't a matter of what he could offer but rather his time to even give this offer.

It was today of all days that he couldn’t find time to himself since there were some last-minute preparations needed for the Unbirthday party. You felt too guilty and nervous to suddenly ask your boyfriend for a jacket in all this commotion, so you tried to handle the cold without one.

However, a classmate of yours was observant enough to notice your predicament and handed his jacket for the time being.

You’ve stuck around the Unbirthday party, waiting for the festivities to settle and relax before scanning through the crowd to find the man with a beautiful shade of orange hair.

But your boyfriend was quicker to find you as he surprised you first, covering your eyes from behind. “Guess who, cutie~?”

Laughing, you didn’t bother to answer as you immediately spun around to leap straight into Cater’s arms, to which Cater happily returned in kind.

“Looks like you got yourself some new threads. Almost couldn’t find you, cutie.” Referring to your newly acquired jacket, Cater could see the Heartslabyul emblem sewed onto its sleeve. Raising a quizzical brow, Cater questioned you, “Did you get it from the Adeuce duo?”

His guess was wrong though as you told him a classmate of yours offered you his jacket, pointing him in the distance with his friends. Well now, that’s interesting. If it were one of his or your friends, that’s fine and dandy…but a random classmate…

Cater genuinely appreciated that his little underclassmen are chivalrous enough to help their fellow peers, but he admits that it’s a little different when it involves you. You’re special to him after all and he gotta make sure only he gets to give you the best boyfie treatment.

With a smile on his face, Cater gently coaxed you out from the jacket before walking towards the oblivious student. “Let’s give him back his jacket, then we can head over to my room. I’ve got the perfect jacket for you to try out ♪”

“My cutie looks so ‘cammable in my jacket! This is definitely going on Magicam ♪ Oh, should we get matching couple outfits~?"

“Are you ever gonna stop sulking and tell me what’s wrong, Ace?”

“...”

It doesn’t matter how long you two were dating, Ace would tease you so much if you ask for his jacket, it’s almost not worth it. You could already hear the redhead’s cheeky voice in your head. “Aww, is my baby feeling cold? Do you need your amazing boyfriend to warm you up?”

Feeling a little petty and not in the mood for his teasing, you instead asked Deuce if he could spare his extra jacket for you. To your luck, he had his track team jacket on hand that he could offer to you.

Warm and cozy, you met up with Ace who, upon seeing you, unceremoniously draped himself over you as he let out a deep sigh. “Ahh, I was so cold today. Thank Sevens you’re so warm.”

Rolling your eyes affectionately, you wrapped your arms around him and rubbed his back soothingly. Glad you didn’t ask for his jacket, then.

But as Ace shifted around in your arms, he looked over your jacket from his angle and felt a sneaking suspicion that he had seen it before…but not on you. “Hey babe, where’d you get the jacket from?”

“Oh, it’s Deuce’s track team jacket. I borrowed it ‘cuz I forgot mine back at Ramshackle.”

Which led to this predicament in Ace’s room, with the pouty freshman giving you the cold shoulder. Granted, it’s rather cute to see your boyfriend react so childishly over a jacket, but you’d preferred some cuddles right about now.

But Ace kept on with his act. It may seem like an overreaction but to Ace, knowing that you asked for Deuce instead of him first left a sour taste in his mouth and a blow to his ego. He’s supposed to be your boyfriend, ain’t he?

You sighed, having no choice but to “right your wrong”, then.

Crawling to where your lover was, you leaned into the crook of his neck as your arms circled his waist. “Don’t be mad, I’m so cold and I need my strong, handsome boyfriend to warm me up with hugs~ Aaacceee…”

Still met with silence, you upped the ante and started to press small pecks against his neck where you felt were getting hot and bumpy from your touch. Hiding your satisfied smile, you continued your onslaught of praises and coos.

Damn you and your cuteness, he thought. Breaking his cold facade, Ace groaned in frustration as he pulled you into his arms, giving into the cuddles you wanted.

“If you need something, you’d better be thinking of me first before anyone else, especially Deuce. Have some faith in your boyfriend here.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #riddle rosehearts #ace trappola #twst ace x reader #twst riddle x reader #leona kingscholar #twst leona #leona x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #cater diamond #cater diamond x reader #twst cater x reader

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alessiasfreckles · 2 months

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Could you do kiss roulette 23 with Leah williamson

just one drink - leah williamson x reader

23. A kiss influenced by alcohol or other substances

warning: alcohol

-------

“How many drinks have you had?” Leah asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Not that many!” you insisted, trying to go back through the night and count the drinks you’d had. There was a cocktail when you arrived at the bar, a fun pink one, then an orange fruity one, then your friends had ordered a round of shots, then you’d had a blue cocktail, then - wait, was there another cocktail before the blue one? And was it just the one round of shots, or was it two?

Leah folded her arms, giving you a stern look.

“Okay, maybe a few. Like, three, I think? Maybe four. Wait, do shots count? They’re so little, teeny tiny drinks,” you held up a thumb and finger millimetres apart from one another, swaying slightly where you stood. “They’re teeny tiny, Leah!”

“Is that right?” she asked, trying to hide a laugh. “Come on, trouble, let's get you home.”

“Noo, I don’t want to go yet,” you pouted, giving her your best puppy dog eyes. “Will you come in and have a drink with us? The girls really wanted to see you, just one drink?”

She sighed. She had never been able to say no to you, and besides, it had been a while since she’d last seen your friends. “Fine. Just one drink, okay?”

“Yay!” you cheered, clapping. You grabbed her hand and made your way back inside the busy bar to where your friends were sat, excitedly ordering another round of drinks.

Half an hour later, Leah was decidedly tipsy. She hadn’t had much, just one G&T and a shot of tequila at your insistence, but as she wasn’t used to drinking much anymore, it didn’t take much for her to feel the effect of the alcohol.

Her hand was on your thigh as you chatted animatedly to one of your friends. She watched you, your arms and hands moving as you gesticulated wildly, the way your eyes sparkled in the dim light of the bar, the way your shirt was cut just low enough for her to want to see what was underneath it. She moved her hand to your back, slipping under your shirt, wanting to touch your skin.

You glanced over to find her smiling innocently at you as she trailed her nails up and down your lower back, making you shiver.

“I’m gonna go to the toilet,” you told your friend, excusing yourself. Grabbing Leah’s hand, you pulled her behind you as you stumbled to the bathroom.

When you were in there you quickly pulled her into an empty stall, locking the door behind you, a grin on your face.

“You’re teasing me,” you said, poking her chest. She smiled at you, looking at you through her lashes.

“Me? No, never,” she said, both hands under your shirt now, running up and down your sides.

“No?” you asked. The floor was tilting one way slightly, then swaying back the other way. It felt like you were on a boat, and you tried to steady yourself by putting a hand on Leah’s shoulder.

“Nope,” she said, popping the ‘p’.

“Huh, okay, so you’re not teasing me, so you definitely don’t want us to make out, so in that case I’m going to leave,” you rambled, feigning innocence.

“No, that’s not what I said,” she quickly said, frowning. You burst into giggles at the look on her face, making her pout. “You’re laughing at me!”

“I’m not!” you said, still giggling. “You’re just so cute.”

“You think I’m cute?” Leah smirked, tilting her head. Her fingers were going higher now, reaching your bra. Her hands settled there, and she slipped her thumbs under the band of your bra, resting against the skin, brushing the sides of your breasts gently. You shivered.

“Yes or no?” she asked, making you frown.

“Huh?” you shook your head, trying to clear the thoughts you were having about her hands on your skin.

“You think I’m cute, yes or no?” she asked.

“Oh! Yes, easy. Next question?” you told her, trying to lean against the wall to look casual. You didn’t realise that it was further away than you thought, and you stumbled, falling into her.

She laughed, hands still pressed against your skin. Now you were pressed against her, leaning just far back enough to see her face clearly. It felt like the cubicle was revolving around the two of you, spinning and spinning, but as long as you focused on her face and the feeling of her hands, her thumbs on the edges of your breasts, it was okay, you were okay.

“Hmm,” she said, a thoughtful look on her face. Her eyes flitted between your eyes and your lips, down to your chest, and back again. You waited, holding your breath, anxious to see what she said. “Can I kiss you?” she asked, biting her lip.

You nodded quickly, surging forward to meet her lips. She tasted like tequila and lip balm, and as you kissed you forgot about the world outside of your little bubble. The only thing you could feel was her body against yours, how soft her lips were, how perfectly you fit together. Her hands were still under your shirt, but they’d moved further up your chest, making your breath catch in your throat. Your heart was pounding in your ears, and your skin felt like it was on fire where she’d touched it, her tongue in your mouth making you dizzy.

A cubicle door slammed shut, making both of you jump apart. You looked at each other with wide eyes, pupils dark, breathing heavily.

“Fuck, y/n.”

#hannah writes blurbs #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson fanfic #leah williamson #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson blurb #woso fanfics #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso blurb

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freelancearsonist · 2 months

Text

Parts and Labor

➔ Eddie Munson x fem!Reader - 5k

➔ Eddie’s van is practically falling apart, but he doesn’t have the heart to replace it. Luckily for him, you’re willing to put in the effort to fix it—as long as he helps.

➔ Rated MA for unprotected p in v sex (don’t do this irl pls), oral (f receiving), heavy petting, creampie, fingering, cumplay, Eddie has scars and lies about where he got them, reader has female anatomy and uses fem pronouns, reader is a mechanic [please let me know if i missed anything at all :)]

“SHIT, FUCK!”

Eddie slams down the hood of his van, kicks the front tire as hard as he can, then winces–both at the sudden pain in his foot and at the overreaction.

“Come on baby, please,” he pleads futilely to the unresponsive engine. “I’ll give you anything, just start.”

The engine, apparently, won’t be seduced.

Eddie digs through the pocket of his low-slung jeans, finds a dime somewhere in the pile of gum wrappers and old receipts, and runs to stick the coin into the nearest payphone booth.

The garage answers on the last ring, and Eddie doesn’t even have to identify himself. They’re almost as familiar with his junker van as he is himself. They’ve wrung more money out of him for repairs than the damned thing is worth, and Eddie knows it. He knows the vehicle is on its deathbed–repeatedly resuscitated at this point–and that he should just replace it. But he can’t. Beyond fear of hurting its feelings, he’s become attached to it. He’s made memories in that stupid van. To him, replacing his ride would be like wading a huge portion of his life up and throwing it in the trash. He just won’t do it.

The garage is merciful enough to give him a ride there along with towing his poor, lifeless van. He’s not eager to spend a day in the waiting room sipping lukewarm black coffee, but he needs to be there for her. His lady is dying–waiting for news from her doctors is the least he can do.

He forgets all about his lady when you walk through the door.

You’re the Porche 944 of women. He’s never seen anything or anyone quite as breathtaking as you–with the small grease smudge on your cheek, your hair pulled back so sloppily that half of it is already fallen down, and your denim overalls unclipped on one side to show off the faded Iron Maiden t-shirt you wear underneath. You’re wiping your hands on a grease rag as you approach him and Eddie just stands in dumbfounded silence. Who are you and where have you been his entire life?

“Munson,” you greet with a slight smile.

He almost chokes. You know his name? He knows he’s never seen you before in his life–you’re the kind of girl he could never forget. Especially with how much time he’s had to spend here.

“Having trouble getting her to start?” you continue without missing a beat. Eddie doesn’t miss the way you refer to his van, and it makes him impossibly more hooked. “Seems to be a bad ignition coil. Easy enough to fix, except your crankshaft is rusted to shit and I’m honestly surprised the whole engine hasn’t fallen apart when you hit a bump or something. Seriously, it’s dangerous to drive at this point.”

Eddie hears you, but he doesn’t comprehend a single word you’re saying. He’s hyper-fixated on the way your lips form around your words, on how you’re speaking mechanics and you actually understand what you’re saying. He’s never met anyone like you.

“But you can fix her, right?”

You smile, and he feels his heart skip a beat. “Honestly? My professional advice is to just sell it for scrap and buy a new car.”

It’s like a smack to the face. He has to blink the shock out of his eyes while you stand there so simply, like you didn’t just tell him to kill his darling.

”What’s your unprofessional advice?”

You bite your lip, busy your hands with a grease cloth. “I could fix it. But it’ll take some time, and it’ll be expensive as hell. It would honestly be cheaper to buy new.”

”I’ll pay for the fix,” he says firmly before he can consider what he’s really agreeing to. “I can’t just replace her.”

Your smile is softer when you look back up at him. “I really admire that.”

Those words shouldn’t have as much of an effect on him as they do.

”I can do the job, but not here. There’s no way my boss would let me take up a lift for as long as I need to actually do a good job, and I don’t believe in doing mediocre work. But I’ve got enough equipment at my place if you trust me?”

You’re not only saving his lady, you’re promising not to screw him like so many people have before. He’s thinking about proposing, but he keeps his cool long enough to say, “yeah. Yeah, I trust you.”

”How much do you know about cars?”

He notices a strand of hair that’s fallen down into your face, and it takes all his restraint to keep himself from pushing it behind your ear for you.

”I know enough,” he says with a modest shrug.

Your eyes shine with something that he can’t identify as you gaze up at him. “Well, if you wanna help me, I’ll only charge you for parts.”

Eddie doesn’t even need to consider. A chance to spend more time with you, and a discount on repairs? “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds great.”

The first night he comes over, it’s the sticky hot of a midsummer Indiana evening. He’s in low-slung faded jeans and a baggy white tank top that shows more of his chest than should be legal. There’s so much lightly tanned skin on display that you can’t decide where to focus—much less consider the engine you’re supposed to be working on. You can’t help asking about each little spot of ink you see on his skin, curious to learn even the smallest nuisances of his personality.

He’s the most interesting person you’ve met in this podunk town since your move to Hawkins from Indianapolis. He’s goofy and aloof, charming yet awkward. He’s so gentle and sweet you can practically smell the saccharine of his words as he speaks. He’s an animated speaker—so passionate about everything he does that he puts his whole body into it. There’s a refreshing energy to him that recharges your social battery as he goes, rather than draining it like everyone else does.

By the second night of working on Eddie’s van with him, you’re close enough to call him a friend. You know what seems like every small detail about him—his favorite color, the story behind the small scar on his left knee.

By the third night, you’re fighting every instinct in your brain to keep from throwing him inside said van and having your way with him.

Especially when you deliver to him a cold glass of iced tea and he drinks it in the sluttiest possible way he can—big gulps that send the condensation on the outside of the glass spilling down his chin to leave little paths of wetness down his neck and chest. It’s like full-on torture.

On the fourth night, you’ve had the engine block completely disassembled and ready for the new crankshaft for a couple days. It’s hard for Eddie to see his baby gutted and torn apart this way, but he knows you’ve got the most capable hands of any mechanic he’s ever known. There’s a delicacy and attention to detail in your craft that he’s never seen before, and he’s enraptured with watching you work. He’s even more enraptured by the sticky glistening of your skin in the red-orange light of sunset every night.

There’s really no reason for him to keep meeting you every single evening—all you’re doing at this point is busywork cleaning various parts because the real work can’t be done until the new parts arrive. Both of you know it, too—but neither of you will admit it. You’ve both come to look forward to these few hours together, comfortable even though you’re both sweaty, sticky, and greasy. Suspending them at this point would be a crime.

There’s just the faintest peek of reddish light left over the horizon when the conversation lulls, but Eddie’s not ready to go quite yet. “You hear Megadeth’s touring in Indy this fall?”

”No shit?”

”No shit. Tickets are probably going fast.”

”We should get some,” you say with a cautious glance over at him. This is it—this is as grand of an invitation as you can work up the courage to make. If he can’t take the bait here, you’ll be forever casting lingering glances and praying he’ll make a more substantial move than just eyeing you up and down like you’re the finest, purest water in a parched desert.

Eddie’s heart rate skyrockets even as he’s willing himself not to read too far into your words. ”Yeah? You’d… wanna go with me?”

”Might be nice. To hang out and do something other than pretend to work on your car.”

”All you had to do was ask, sweetheart,” he says with a look that’s far too smug for his own good on his face.

Even though it’s a little ridiculous, his cockiness flusters you. ”Wasn’t sure you’d want to.”

”How could I not? I’ve got the girl of my dreams five feet away from me, I’d be crazy to not want to spend every second I can get with her.”

”Oh, is there someone else here?” You try to giggle and make it sound like a lighthearted joke, but it comes out far more flustered than you mean for it to.

”No. Just you.” It’s only three words, yet you’ve never heard anything more fraught with tension in your life. It’s in his dark eyes, in the set of his jaw, in the way his hands clench into fists at his side to keep from reaching for you.

All your eyes can manage to do is trace up the prominent veins in his forearms from his white-knuckled fists. If you meet his eyes, you know your resolve will disappear faster than a delicate snowflake on warm skin.

But he takes a step closer to you, and it’s too late before you can even consider stopping yourself.

His dark eyes are swirling with lust. There’s no mistaking it, no other label for it. It looks animalistic, almost dangerous. He looks like he wants to devour you whole, and you want nothing more than to find out if he will.

”You, umm… need a refill?” You gesture with your eyes to the now empty glass in his hand, then nod toward the house. It’s all the invitation he needs.

The second the door clicks shut behind you, Eddie’s hands are on you. They start on your waist, effectively pinning you against the closed door and using you as an anchor to press himself as close to you as he can.

It’s eager and rushed, even a little sloppy. He kisses wet, he kisses deep. It’s like he’s trying to suck the air straight from your lungs, and you let him. Nothing has ever felt so good before.

“Christ,” he mumbles as his hot lips work their way down your neck. “Been wanting to do this for days.”

There’s a slight tremble in your hands as your fingers work their way into his curls, already nearly overwhelmed with the sensation of his mouth on your overheated skin. “Why didn’t you?”

”Didn’t wanna scare you off,” he confesses. It’s so endearing it pulls a moan from your lips.

“There’s not a lot you could do to scare me off, Eddie.” You mean it; you try to prove it by tugging him closer and slotting him between your legs. You can feel his pent up desire, hard and thick, as it presses against your core through his jeans. The feeling alone makes you ache with desire. It’s like a wave sweeps through you, cascading from head to toe and making everything in its wake prickle with unbearable want. You are molten flame, and he is the only thing that can douse your heat.

No one’s ever had such an astronomical effect on you from doing so little.

Eddie isn’t faring much better. He walks in a fog, blinded by clouding desire—especially so when your leg hitches up and around his hip to tug him harder against you. It’s like his cruise control is set, speed regulating with every incline or downward tilt—adjusting every little movement and touch to draw more breathless moans and whimpers from your parted lips.

A slight tug to his hair snaps him back into his own body, drawing a sudden clarity on the situation. He’s no longer an outsider looking in, as if an astral projection watching and criticizing his every move. Eddie is fully present and hyper-focused on one thing: making sure no other person can ever properly satisfy you again.

”You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs over and over into your skin as he traces kisses over your exposed neck and shoulders. His fingers hook into the strap of your tank top and slide it out of place, making way for a series of open-mouthed kisses as he ensures that not an inch of your skin is neglected.

You keen at his praise and reward him with a gentle tug to his messy curls. “So are you.”

He prickles with affection at your compliment, his cheeks warming in a way that feels completely foreign to him. No one’s ever called him beautiful before—he’s really never thought it could even be applicable to him—but he feels like he could get used to it.

He asks so nicely to take your top off and you give him permission without hesitation. You can see the flash of want in his eyes as he takes in your mostly naked torso, gaze skirting around the boundary of your bra as if he’s too shy to ask again for permission to remove a garment.

You decide to put on a little show as you give him what he wants; you unhook your bra and slide the straps down your arms so achingly slowly he thinks he might combust. And then finally, gloriously, you let the fabric fall to the floor and Eddie gets his first look at your bare chest.

He gapes, open-mouthed, for longer than is frankly comfortable—to the point you’re almost about to cover yourself up again.

And then he says, “Permission to do something highly inappropriate and maybe even a little degrading?”

”Uhh… sure?”

In a flash he’s buried face first in your sternum, hands coming to cup your breasts and dramatically smother himself in your cleavage. He lets out a pleasured groan as you giggle, deft fingers lightly tugging and pinching the sensitive peaks of your nipples. He prickles with pride at the breathy gasp you emit when his mouth starts working—he turns his head to suck one hard mound between his lips and keeps up the pressure with his fingers on the other.

”Sh-shit…” you sigh and slump into his attention, arms hanging like limp ribbons by your sides. “Eddie…”

”Love the way you say my name,” he practically purrs. “So fucking pretty.”

He switches sides now, firmly dragging the flat of his tongue over your nipple before sealing his lips around it and sucking. The pure pressure of it makes you cry out, fingers tugging harshly at his curls.

”Jesus, that feels amazing,” you whine. It’s so good, but it’s not nearly enough at the same time. And it’s like he can sense it—like he’s got some kind of a psychic connection with your body. He adapts immediately to what you need, dropping to his knees to unbutton your jean shorts and deftly slip them down and off your legs. He smooths his palms against your bare thighs and lets you feel the cold kiss of his metal rings against the burning flesh there, all the while looking up at you with dark eyes that you can’t quite identify. There’s lust, sure, but something else in those chocolate orbs. Something akin to adoration—like he’s on his knees preparing to worship you.

”Can I?” Those long, thick fingers hook into the waistband of your underwear and you’re nodding before he’s even finished asking.

You wish you could put the sound he lets out once he finally has you bare on vinyl to repeat over and over again. It’s somewhere between a growl and a whimper, completely heady with desire and want; need, even. The fact that he needs you like this is so overwhelming and flattering that you can barely process it. You don’t have time to, because in a moment his lips are wrapping themselves around your clit and sucking. He goes straight past gentle and into pure pressure just like he did with your nipples; as above, so below. And it’s bliss—thigh-quaking, breath-hitching, earth-shattering bliss.

All you can manage to do is scrabble for purchase against the wall his hands have you pinned to. You have to sound absolutely pathetic, but you can’t be bothered to care because you’re precariously close to coming and it’s only been a matter of minutes.

He moans, like he’s tasting the finest, most expensive and decadent cuisine he’s ever had. The sound vibrates against your pussy and travels up your spine all the way to your brain—it nests there and makes it’s home, drives you into a fuzzy state of ecstasy. And all the while that luxurious tongue is hard at work, alternating between lapping thirstily at your entrance and fluttering against your clit in a way that causes every muscle in your abdomen to contract.

Nothing should be able to feel this good—it’s so desperately close to overwhelming. Simultaneously, you would rather die than lose this feeling is it crescendos to a fever pitch.

”Let go,” he murmurs against you, and you know he’s not talking about your grip on his hair. “It’s okay. I gotcha, let go f’me.”

You’ve never fancied yourself to be the obedient type per se, but apparently your body is feeling particularly traitorous today. It takes all of three more seconds before you’re doing exactly what he said—legs trembling with the burden of your weight as you crash and burn on his tongue. You whine and beg and plead, all of it meaningless babble as he works you over and through your pleasure with that wonderful, amazing, perfect mouth of his.

You don’t even process you’re collapsing, but thankfully Eddie does and catches you with ease. There’s a cocky chuckle in his throat as he lays you down on the floor, and you would smack him for it if he hadn’t earned it. Instead, you grab him by the collar of his shirt a little rougher than mean to and drag him to your mouth, relishing in the high-pitched whine he admits at your light manhandling.

You moan at the taste of yourself on his lips, and Eddie can’t help grinding himself hard against your thigh in an attempt to relieve the pressure of his untouched arousal. This kiss is nasty—wet, gnashing, desperate. There’s no control to it on either end.

”That good, huh?” He mutters into your mouth. His voice is barely more than a whisper—you can’t expect much more when you’re kissing him the way you are, grinding your thigh against his aching cock all the while. And even still, despite his obvious desperation, he manages to be cocky about how hard he made you come.

If you weren’t head over heels for this man before, you certainly are now.

You start tugging at his belt and he chuckles, only growing more sure of himself by the second.

”Wait, baby, lemme take you to bed,” he huffs over the feeling of your hand finally sliding into his jeans where he needs you most.

It makes you gasp when you finally have him in the palm of your hand. As big as he felt through his jeans, nothing could’ve prepared you for this. He’s heavy, achingly thick, and you can feel the way he positively throbs in your grip.

And just as you’re about to agree and show him to your bedroom, you shake your head firmly; because as uncomfortable as this floor is going to feel and as much as your back is going to hate you for it later, you need him now. There’s no time for relocating; if he doesn’t give it to you right now, here in the middle of your living room floor, you think you might perish.

”Right here?” He hums as if he’s not affected at all while he slots himself between your legs. “On the floor? Can’t even wait thirty seconds to let me have you the right way? Dirty girl.”

It’s such a shift in dynamic; not an unwelcome one at all, certainly. But he’s been so shy and timid up until this point—always following your lead, blushing when his hand brushes against yours. You wonder if he’s like this with everyone—if he feels some pressure to perform an act or role, to hide his true personality.

The thought makes your chest ache a little bit, but you don’t have time to dwell on it because he’s breaking you in half. He’s so slow about it, too; barely pressing his tip into you, giving you time to adjust to every millimeter he gives you. Even still it punches the breath out of your lungs and makes your eyelids flutter at the intrusion.

”Shit.” It’s not spoken so much as whined, and suddenly you’re starkly aware of just how much you’re affecting him. You bite your lip to steady yourself so you can look up at him, and the sight alone is almost enough to unravel you. Unruly curls spill down over his shoulder and dangle in the air over you. His mouth hangs open—fast, shallow breaths make his bottom lip quiver. His pupils are so blown with desire you can barely see the warm chocolatey color of his irises.

You’re suddenly aware that in your desperation, you forgot a very important step. He’s still fully clothed—your legs rub against his t-shirt as his hands hook under your knees to spread you wider for him. You almost feel bad about it; in your haze of arousal his attention to your body has brought on, you’ve forgotten to be attentive to his. It pulls a whine from your lips as your hands unconsciously come to tug at the fabric.

He chuckles but acquiesces—not before you see a flicker of hesitation pass over his face.

It takes a moment to process what you’re looking at as he tugs his shirt over his head and tosses it to the side… and then your jaw drops. ”Shit, Eddie!”

He’s quick to quiet your exclamation with a heated kiss, unintentionally shoving himself that little bit deeper into your cunt. It distracts you, but only for a moment. Then you’re pushing yourself up onto your elbows, trying to wrap your mind around the myriad of deep, whitish-pink scars that litter his torso.

“Eddie, what—“

“Car accident,” he lies before he can think better of it. It’s a story he’s told so many times that he’s almost starting to believe it himself. “Couple years back.”

“Jesus,” you whisper as your fingers trace over the poorly healed lines.

“I know. They’re not pretty.”

That one sentence tells you everything you need to know. “It’s not that,” he assure him. “Just… a miracle you survived something that bad.”

“Yeah,” he hums. “I got lucky.”

He’s deflating a little bit, and the last thing you want him to do is lose that confidence he’s been exuding. You wrap your arms around your neck and pulls him flush against you, feeling every warm inch of his torso against yours as your tongue tangles with his.

“You’re beautiful,” you tell him again. And you mean it.

He draws a gasp from your lips when he presses even closer, every inch of his body covering yours and his length shoved all the way into your needy cunt. It’s almost too much for him—the combination of your tight, wet heat around him; the adoration in your eyes as you look up at him like he’s some kind of god; your hands pulling him closer like you might evaporate if you can’t feel every inch of his body at all times. It’s a heady feeling he’s never experienced before, being wanted this badly. It nearly unravels him—especially when you start bucking your hips up to him in search of the friction you so desperately need.

He sees your need, and it pulls him back into his dutiful role. “I’ve got you, baby.”

He starts with deep, slow thrusts that nearly make you drool—you feel the drag of every single inch against your walls, every vein and ridge and contour. It’s like you’re memorizing the shape of him from the inside out.

One ringed hand slides down your hip and along the length of your thigh to hook beneath your knee, hitching your leg up as high as he comfortably can to spread you wide open for the taking.

You get barely a moment's notice as he draws himself almost all the way out. And then he slams himself back into place—deep, hard, unrelenting. He revels in the sound it draws from you, something between a cry and a plea for more; he silently vows to himself that those little pleasures sounds are going to be all you’re capable of making by the time he’s done with you.

It’s borderline violent, the way he fucks you. His thrusts are relentless and expert in a way you didn’t expect him to be. His lips hardly leave your skin, muffling his moans into hickies and bruises on your neck and chest. His hands grip hard to your body, marks blossoming beneath his fingertips.

You’ve never fallen apart so easily.

“That’s it,” he purrs into your ear as he feels your walls fluttering around him. “Don’t hold back, lemme have it. Please, baby.”

And really, it would be rude to deny him after he’s asked so nicely.

Your orgasm comes like shattered glass. The sound is the first thing you process—your moans drowning out his steady grunts. And then it’s sharp. It drives its shards into your and makes you flinch away from the sensation, so pleasurable it’s almost painful.

You’ve never come just from being fucked before. Sweet, wonderful Eddie carries on working towards his own release like he doesn’t deserve a goddamned award.

“Can I…”

But you’re already nodding, wrapping your legs around his waist and coaxing him deeper—urging him to make a home in the deepest part of you.

He’s not a man who needs to be told twice. He rocks his hips as deep as he can and then presses even closer, the head of him bruising your cervix as he falls apart. And maybe it shouldn’t feel as good as it does, the sensation of him painting your walls with rope after rope or warm, sticky release; but you’re not in the mind to psychoanalyze yourself right now. Instead you do your best to help him through it, lightly ghosting the tips of your fingers in soothing patterns on his back as he pants and shudders.

“Holy…”

“Yeah,” you giggle.

It takes him a few minutes to summon the courage he needs to pull his softening length from your warmth, and he bites down on his lip nearly hard enough to draw blood when he sees the absolute mess that slides down the curve of your ass.

”Jesus H. Christ,” he murmurs. His fingers come to swipe up some of the combined cum before he can stop himself, pushing it back into where he’d spilled it to begin with and relishing in the moan you afford him at the feeling of his thick fingers pressing into your over-sensitive entrance.

He’s so thoroughly enraptured with the sight before him. Your cunt squeezing so tightly around his fingers, cum dripping, desperate to reject due to the overstimulation. And yet you take it without flinching, chest heaving, head falling back against the hardwood floor.

He swipes his thumb over your clit so lightly and yet it still makes you squeeze like a vice around him, and so he does it again. He curls his fingers in search of that spot that made you fall apart so prettily on his cock, and once he finds it he doesn’t relent. That, combined with the light pressure on your clit, is more than enough.

Your thighs tremble, caught indecisively between spreading further open for him and clamping shut on his cum-slicked hand. He watches in awe as your lips part in a silent scream, ass arching up off the floor; and then, as you come down, you have to push him away because it’s finally too much.

”Fuck,” you whimper—he coos so reassuringly as he leans down to gently kiss your lips, errant curls brushing and tickling against your cheeks.

”I know, baby,” he whispers. “God, you’re incredible. Did so good f’me.”

You have to stay still for a moment—let his sweet, gentle kisses bring you back down from the clouds. And then you’re aware of the ache in your back and the absolute puddle forming under your ass, and you push yourself up with a weak groan.

”M’sorry,” he winces in sympathy. “Bed next time, I promise.”

And really, the promise of there being a next time shouldn’t make your heart skip a beat the way it does.

You’re worried things’ll be awkward now, but that’s the furthest thing from the truth. Working with him now is so much more effortless. The tension isn’t as palpable—it’s a fluid thing that you move through confidently now that your feelings and his are known. He isn’t afraid to watch you anymore, awe and adoration in his eyes as you show him how to reassemble the engine block. He observes your skilled fingers at work, and he’s not afraid to tell you how fucking sexy it is to him. He’s not afraid to rest a hand on the small of your back as he stands beside you, even occasionally getting brave enough to let it slip down and cup your ass. He’s not afraid to be his goofy, adorable, manic self—it’s the best metamorphosis you’ve ever seen.

You finish working on his van finally, and he almost tears up at how well she runs now—although he definitely doesn’t let you see that.

And as worried as you were that finishing this job would feel like the end of whatever this is with Eddie, it doesn’t. You feel secure, somehow, that he’ll keep coming back—for more than just parts and labor.

THE END

➔ A/N: thank you as always to @shakespeareanwannabe for putting up with my incessant questions and beta requests 🥹 ily lots

➔ Want to see more from me in the future? Follow @freelancearsonist-updates and turn on post notifications to be notified when I post new fics!

➔ Want to support me? Please reblog this fic! It helps boost it in the algorithm and gives it more circulation no matter what your follower count is :)

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson one shot #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things smut #stranger things one shot #cece writes

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touchtheinvisiblestars · 3 months

Text

Imagine Spencer looking after you when you get hurt on a stakeout

You'd been paired with a local officer, tasked with a night stakeout at a farm. The pair of you were supposed to watch for any activity, and report back any movement.

Which of course went pear shaped when the young, ambitious man you'd been placed with identified a missing person being led out of the main building. Faster than you could react to stop him, he'd thrown himself out the door, gun raised and ready and attempted to subdue the men.

Instead of impulsively running after him, you chose to stay back and call for help. Simultaneously pressing the distress button on the device Garcia had rather ingeniously insisted you all carry.

It pinged your location to all members of the team, and alerted them that whoever pressed it was in trouble.

Reaching the sheriff's department, you reported the activity and the officers mistake. Watching as they turned on him, you let out a gasp when one of the suspects didn't wait for him to finish the rest of his demands. Instead in the blink of an eye shot him, three times.

"Agent? Agent? Can you hear me, what's going on there?" The Detective who'd answered the phone asked you.

"They just killed him." You breathed, watching as they dragged his body away, the missing boy cowering against the side of the house. Before another one of the suspects grabbed onto him and dragged him away.

"Have they seen you? Are you compromised?"

"Maybe... I don't know. They-" you were cut off by the passenger door opening, revealing one of the men you'd been watching earlier that night.

Before you could reach for your gun, which was stupidly placed on the dashboard, he grabbed you by your hair and dragged you out of the car. Slamming you down onto the ground roughly, even your kevlar vest couldn't stop the air being knocked out of you.

Promptly followed by a hard kick to your stomach, making your chest go into spasm. Gasping in air, you could barely focus on where the next hit was coming from.

***

After what seemed like an eternity he finally let up, shoving you back into the gravel of the driveway and stalking off. Barking orders at the other men who had appeared from the shadows.

"Let's go boys, we need to ship out to location Tango. Got it?.. Let's go then. Her buddies will be here any moment." He called out, sparing a glance back to you.

Feeling entirely too conscious, you dared not move, not fancying another punch to the face.

Multiple cars started up and disappeared over the hills to the back of the property.

You curled onto your side, and tried to breathe in some even breaths. Trying to not focus on the pain all over, you managed to get yourself on all fours. Realising at some point he pulled your bulletproof vest off.

Maneuvering yourself so you were slowly leaning back against the tyre of the truck you were doing the stakeout in. The light from the houses and extra that had been switched on gave you a good look around. And also at yourself. Seeing there were blood splatters on your shirt. You tried not to imagine what you looked like.

Closing your eyes for a moment, taking slow deep breaths in to try and calm your racing heart.

Hearing the sound of gravel under tyres, you instantly panicked. A unexpected wave of adrenaline coarsed through you, giving you the energy needed to get yourself off the floor and in a better position to defend yourself in.

"Y/n?" Hotch's concerned shout fell of deaf ears as you scrambled to get into the car and grab your gun.

"Hey, no, no, no. It's us, calm down." A familiar voice soothed. Intercepting you and stopping your hand before it could pick up your weapon, that you hadn't had the chance to grab.

You hissed and winced as he touched you left wrist, a sickeningly sharp pain shooting up your arm.

"I'm sorry. What hurts?"

"Spence?" Seeing his face relaxed you instantly, "we need to be quick, they literally just left. Over that ridge up there. If we go now we could catch up with them."

Leaning down to get a look at you, some of his wild hair falling out of place as he fussed over you.

"You're not going anywhere, okay? You need to be seen to, what the hell happened? We got the distress ping and ran out the door."

He intercepted your attempt to grab the keys in the ignition. Taking them from you and putting them in his coat pocket.

"That stupid boy got himself killed. He ran over there, gun out, demanding they gave up the boy and that they were under arrest... There were three of them! To one of him, he was never going to subdue all of them."

"You did everything right, okay? He should never have tried to go after them. This group is far too organised for that."

"But I just sat here. I watched it happen, I-"

"Stop. I won't let you do this to yourself. Did you see the person who attacked you?"

"Yeah, he was young. Green eyes, bit of a beard. Around six-five. Probably mid thirties. Um- he was wearing a yellow plaid shirt with a puffer vest jacket. He had.." You trailed off, a piercing headache making you double over.

"That's amazing, y/n. Come on, the ambulance is over here." He said, curling his arm around your waist and helped you out of the car.

Spying Hotch looking over a map, you pulled away from Spencer and limped over to him. Spencer following close behind holding onto your wrist.

You looked at the map to get your bearings, finding the circled area you were in. You pointed at the hills behind the house.

"Y/n, have you seen a medic?" Aaron asked, frowning at you, one of the few facial expressions he had.

"No she hasn-" Spencer started, but you cut him off.

"They went over this ridge," you paused, steadying yourself on the bonnet of the truck, "if we leave now we could catch them."

"Okay, but you aren't going anywhere until you've been checked out. Reid. Make sure she gets medical attention." Hotch spoke to you and then to Spencer who was hovering worriedly.

"Hotch, please. We might not get another chance like this again." You tried, refusing to move from the car.

"Y/n that's not a suggestion. It's an order. Go." Hotch finalised, nodding to Spencer who supported you as he lightly pulled you back.

The medics met you halfway and started asking you an endless list of questions.

A suspected cracked rib and multiple bones in your wrist, concussion, and bruising all over. You were told to visit the hospital once you were back in the city. They strapped you up and gave you some painkillers.

"Where's Hotch?" You asked as Spencer helped you get down from the ambulance, "I've been checked out, I want to help."

"They've headed back to the station. We can't just go roaming across the hills looking for people in the dark. Y/n, it's too dangerous."

"Spencer, come on. We won't get another chance like this."

"We will, okay? I promise you they won't get away. You think any of us will let you go out like this? You need x-rays, anti-inflammatory medication, potentially a CT scan, and most of all rest. Hotch wants you on two weeks leave, after you leave the hospital."

"No," you exclaimed exasperated, "I need you to do a cognitive interview on me."

"Okay. But not now." He spoke softly, brows furrowed as he looked down at you.

"Why not now?"

"Because you've spent the last ten minutes digging your nails into your palm. And you only do that when you're in pain."

You instantly released your clenched fist. Not realising you'd even being doing it.

Releasing a deep breath, you were finally ready to admit defeat. Nodding, you let him lead you back to the car you'd come in.

The drive back was comfortably silent, Spencer looking over to check on you occasionally. You sighed on arriving at the closest hospital.

"I know okay. But do you really want me lecturing you about all the reasons you should follow the medics advice and get to the hospital immediately?"

Shaking your head, you sent a small smile his way.

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds

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bakugoushotwife · 7 months

Text

kinktober day five: size kink

>>> so obviously there is no other option size kink and toji fushiguro are synonymous in my book! i do call him zen'in in this so i guess we can be mama fushiguro lmao! i hope you guys are having a good time with kinktober so far :D

>>> starring toji (zen'in) fushiguro x curvy!fem!reader >>> cw: size kink duh, daddy kink i'm not apologizing anymore, reader is stuck in a washer, doggy, oral (fem receiving), reader is used to shit men lol >>> wc: 2.3k >>> event masterlist

toji is massive, in every form of the word. he’s tall, towering over most people he comes across at his looming stature. most of the time, tall people were lanky and lean, slender with limbs that stretch for days. he didn’t fit the stereotype. toji was beefy, his biceps were the size of your head and his hands could cover your entire face. his arms aren’t where it stops either, his chest is broad; he’s so impossibly wide, always struggling to find clothes that fit him right. not that you mind too much of course, watching those poor t-shirts try to contain him rile you up to no end every time. he was always there to grab whatever you needed off of high shelves, changing lightbulbs and dusting the ceiling fans because it was all too easy for him to do. he was ridiculously strong, able to open even the tightest of jars and sweep you into his arms like it was nothing. it wasn’t like you ever overlooked toji’s size, it’s just that you never thought yourself all that small.

in fact, you struggled with your figure a bit, never quite knowing where you fit in for most of your life. boys either made you feel too insecure over your size or only ever wanted you for that curvy and voluptuous figure. at first, toji was no different, knowing how to talk at a beautiful girl when he sees one. he approaches you, lays out some dirty and cheesy pick up line that’s not even remotely close to original, and is honestly surprised when you snort through your nose and roll your eyes.

“i had more hope outta you, you were actually cute.” you sneer, quickly turning to keep walking down the quiet streets without any more trouble. and that was it–you really weren’t going to give him a second glance even though you admitted he was attractive? he had never really been turned down before, his looks alone enough to open any door. seems with a body like that you were used to gross one-liners.

“hey, little lady, wait.” he said, his voice a little softer than it had been when he was hitting on you before. you had already walked a few feet away, but noticing the slight change in disposition, you halted. “maybe that was a bit much, i got ahead’a myself.” he says, tilting his head down in an apology. “let me make it up to ya?”

your eyes narrowed at him. his arms were folded over his chest, the fabric of the struggling shirt expanding to its fullest potential. his hair ruffled a bit with the warm breeze that blew through, the color of his locks as dark as the night sky—though his eyes shone like the stars above too, something in the green expanses of the hazy orbs twisting your gut and making you decide that if anybody deserves a second chance, it was this sexy stranger. could you even be that angry at him for his lewd comment when you were eyeing him down too, only thinking of his physical attributes?

at your hesitation he speaks again. “let me walk you home. it’s late, and like i said, you’re very pretty.” he raises his brow as if asking one final time. you breathe some air out through your nose, suspiciously looking him up and down at the offer. “no funny business, just protection, little lady.” he swears with his hands by his head.

you hum, nodding your head for him to follow you as you start walking, hips swinging and hair swaying. when he thinks back on it maybe he fell in love right here, watching you stomp towards your house with way more attitude than your tiny body should contain, doing your damndest to try and play hard to get. but toji’s no fool. he follows you, he increases his strides to catch up with a small effort, but he’s walking beside you with a smug look on his face.

he makes meaningless chit-chat, learns about some of your hobbies and about your job. he gets your phone number, and apologizes one last charismatic time before you shut the door of your apartment and he’s walking back home, thinking of how he rarely plays the long game for a woman. but he knew you were worth it, the perfect little thing to brighten his days.

unlike you, toji realized how tiny you were immediately. sure, you were curvy and your chest and ass definitely were not small–you even had a little tummy to you, but you were just so short and compact, he knew he could manhandle you like a toy. not to mention how cute and bratty you were, he was all but compelled to be your man and fuck that attitude right out of you.

so the long game he played, talking to and courting you like a proper adult, though it isn’t long until you’re accepting him into your home and letting him tame that bratty streak of yours.

and you’re so glad you decided to give the ginormous stranger another go. he earns his place in your heart and in your home in under a year, and you’ve been grateful for his presence around the house. he makes you feel safe and protected, your own personal security guard. no place could be safer than those hulking arms trapping you to a chest at least two times as wide as yours. his hands always felt so warm and rough against your frame, seeing them against your body always made you feel like the daintiest thing in the whole world. god, and the way those enormous fingers moved inside your little hole—

maybe that’s why you thought you thought you could rely on the burly man you’ve come to love to be the perfect boyfriend he’s shown you he can be, despite the weird looks you get walking around in public with toji zen’in. you never minded the whispers or the rumors of his reputation, you knew him better than anyone, another reason you thought that when you screamed out his name for help, that he’d come running to your rescue.

to which in part, he did, to his credit. when he heard your voice far away in the laundry room hollering for him, sounding a little too afraid for his comfort, he was there in an instant. but rescuing? nah. he couldn’t help but laugh at your compromising situation. you’re face first in the top load washer, your top-half completely invisible, ass and legs squirming in the air. of course you’d fall in, the height of the washer was something you often complained about; you had to basically crawl inside the machinery to get clothes in and out, and it annoyed you to no end. now, the worst had happened and here you are. you couldn’t even just push yourself out due to how high your legs dangle, you’d surely fall.

you know what they say, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure, and as good as toji has been to you, he can’t repress the perverted fantasy his mind drums up at the sight of your tiny body stuck in the washer. you kick your feet harder at the sound of his laughter, to which he can only belly chuckle harder.

“you need some help, darlin’?” he teases, large hands wrapping around your ankles, halting your kicking immediately. he holds your legs there by his thighs, standing between them. he smirks down at your fat ass jiggling and recoiling as you try to squirm your way up the washer. he chuckles at your failures and the sounds of frustrations that follow, until you finally whine out for help.

“toji— just get me out of here.” you pout flatly, folding your arms over your chest inside the barrel. he chuckles deeply again, sliding his hands up your bare legs until they came across the mounds of your ass. he squeezes the flesh almost tenderly.

“but little lady,” he hums as he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your shorts and slowly drags them down your legs. he has to kneel to get the garment completely off, but he doesn’t mind. he decides kneeling is advantageous for him, especially once he sees your pretty little hole clenching around nothing, just eager to be filled. “ya look like a little toy from down here,’nd i’m thinkin i oughta play.” he has to spread your ass cheeks a little bit to see you in all your glory before he leans in to lick a stripe from glistening slit to your puckering asshole. he growls at the flavor, something he just can’t stop himself from doing no matter how many times he gets to taste you. you can feel the soft tickle of his hair against the insides of your thighs, the searing heat of his tongue making your squirm back against him in a desperate search for more.

you should have known toji would be greedy, taking advantage of your inability to move and abusing that to the fullest. he laps at you, shoving his fat tongue into your tiny little hole, fucking it wider for his cock to use. after all these months of him fucking you open, you were still so tight and small. you hug even his tongue, silky wet walls making his eyes roll back a little bit. his large hands hold your asscheeks, kneading like a kitten making biscuits, even though it felt more like a lion pawing at you. you taste so good, it has his cock jumping against his zipper and begging for freedom. he decides to deny himself that simple pleasure, focused on driving more of those cute little whimpers from your lips. the tunnel of the washer was amplifying all your sounds, and he felt the torture of not having your tiny cunt wrapped tight around his cock every passing second.

you were panting, beginning to feel dizzy from being nearly upside down. every stroke of toji’s tongue massaging your fluttering entrance and the intensity of his deft fingers flicking your clit combined sent you spiraling, both physically and literally, towards the edge. he can’t help but lean back and watch the way you fuck yourself back on his mouth for more, picking up the pace of his fingers to send you over your limit. it’s so cute to watch your thighs clench down and shiver as you cum, screeching and begging for his dick next.

and who was the feared sorcerer killer to deny such a sweet request from his beloved? his pants are off, belt clinking against the floor. you ready yourself, feeling the rough warmth of his hands envelop your sides and his hips cleave your thighs apart yet again. he’s so strong, he doesn’t even have to use his hands to toss you around, positioning you exactly the way he needs you to fuck you into pieces. his cock splits your lower lips and he unceremoniously bottoms out, eyes clenched shut at how your tiny cunt grips him. your jaw drops with the feeling of being so full at once, his cock just as broad and long as the rest of him. he kisses your cervix before he’s even started moving and you’re already squirming and crying like always. the stretch burns, every time feels like your first with toji. especially like this, you’re bent in half and he’s so deep in doggy that you’re seeing stars—though that could be due to the dizziness swirling around your head.

“so tight f’me like always, gorgeous.” he chuffs, drawing back to the tip and plowing his length back in, entranced by how you clench and release around him. you mewl your acknowledgement, your hips eagerly moving back against him for more friction, his strokes deliriously slow.

he notes your impatience, amused.

“need more, little thing?” he teases, licking his smirking lips at the sound of your pathetic whines and kicks. you nod eagerly, realizing he can’t see it.

“yes, daddy, please! need you to make me cum–”

before you can finish your sentence, he’s punishing you for asking for it. this angle is so unforgiving, you can feel every vein decorating his shaft as he destroys you, the tip colliding with your womb so hard it has your toes curling and vision going white. his grunts are so low and delicious, a reward for the perfect pussy you offer him nightly. it’s so good, he can’t stop until he beats your insides into the shape of the dick making you scream right now.

your ass bounces around his thrusts, absorbing every snap of his hips into your unsuspecting and fragile body. he loves watching you break, like his own personal little doll.

“cum–daddy oh my god i’m gonna cum so hard!” you whine, thrashing.

“oh coat this cock, babygirl.” he groans, feeling himself letting go, unable to fight back against your vice grip anymore. “cum with me, need to feel it.” his head falls back as you spasm around him, the vision of your little pussy accommodating his size too much to bear.

“god, please toji!! cum, cum, i need it so bad.” you whimper, your voice so breathy and tired, so beautiful as you beg for his load. it’s already established that he can’t deny you, so he doesn’t. he slides his cock in and out of your slick one last time, hissing as his balls tighten and explode into your cunt, white-hot and heavy. it fills you to the brim like it always does, even when his enormous dick withdraws from you and the mix starts to escape down your thighs you still feel impossibly full.

finally, he rights you onto your feet, his strong steady hands keeping you upright as you wobble a bit. when your vision stops spinning and you bring yourself to open your eyes again, you’re met with toji’s smirking face. his eyes are lazy with amusement and love as he looks at you, giving you an affectionate pat to the head.

“kinda wanted to leave you there ‘nd keep usin’ ya like that.”

#kyleewritesjjk #kylee's kinktober event #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #jjk x reader #toji thirst #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #toji zenin #jjk toji #fushiguro toji #toji zenin x reader #toji x size kink

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byechristopher · 5 months

Note

can you make a chris make up sex??? please

Make it up to me.

– CHRIS STURNIOLO SMUT, FLUFF.

Author's note: love me some good make-up sex – sorry I took so long to respond! Thank you for the request, dear. Hope you like this. Do not copy/steal my work. :)

Warnings: smut smut smut. Minors dni! Didn't proof-read!

"I feel a little neglected lately." my voice is timid but I let a little sigh of relief leave my lips.

I am not used to speaking about my emotions loudly like this, expressing them so freely, let alone in front of Chris. He is my boyfriend but I've always had trouble doing that – it's something I've been trying to fix for a while now.

"Neglected?" he has a tone in his voice that I don't appreciate and I am already regretting my decision to speak my mind, "I don't have time to fucking rest, what are you talking about?" he scoffs and leans back, one of his hands still grab the steering wheel and he sighs, fluffing his hair up with his free hand.

"Just forget it." I roll my eyes, leaning back against the car seat as well, glancing out the window, "forget I even said anything."

"Don't play that card now." I can feel his eyes on me but I refuse look at him.

"I'm not playing any cards. Would you rather have me not telling you anything? Because you know damn well I can do that." I shrug, finally looking at him.

"No, I don't want that. But you're being irrational." his eyebrows are raised and so are his shoulders.

"And you're being rational?" I narrow my eyes, almost like challenging him, "I understand that you are busy but when I tell you I fucking feel neglected, I'm expecting.. I don't know.. maybe a little bit of affection?" I cross my arms, "or is that not possible? To ask that from my relationship?"

"Stop being like this. You just have to understand me! I just don't have time!" he tries to defend himself but every time, he just says something that pisses me off even more.

"Well, that's your fucking problem, Chris. Because I'm working a lot too, you know? But I always make time for you, no matter how exhausted I am. And that's what relationships are about! Making constant sacrifices for each other." I try to explain as much as possible, "and I do understand you, I've been patient for a long time but now it's your turn."

"Well I never fucking complained about you being busy!" he knows he's just saying irrarional bullshit now.

"You never had to! Because I've actually got my shit together. You never had the chance to feel neglected." I stare into his eyes, "oh and also, what I just did, was not complaining. It's called 'expressing my goddamn feelings', something that you're terrible at, even more than me."

And with that, I get out of the car, quickly taking out the keys so I can open our apartment door. He makes me so angry sometimes – he is the best boyfriend in the world, but sometimes, he just doesn't get it.

Hours pass by and we haven't said a single word to each other; I refuse to speak to him, until he understands that he has to make sacrifices too. I can't always just chase him around, taking a step back just to avoid conflict.

A knock on the door of our bedroom is what wakes me up from my own thoughts, "can I come in?"

"Yes, you can."

Chris opens the door and takes a careful glance of me – I am just laying on the bed, under the covers, I am only in my underwear and a t-shirt just to be comfortable. He sighs and lifts the covers so that he can lay beside me, cupping my cheek so gently, his touch is careful and timid.

"I needed some time to think about what you said. And I wanted to apologise." he whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, "you're right. You're working a lot too, but you always make time for me and I am very grateful for that."

I don't say anything, I notice that he's still thinking, just waiting for him to continue.

"I don't want to make any excuses but I felt very overwhelmed lately because of work, and I didn't want to admit it. I haven't been able to sit down and actually try to manage my schedule but I promise to work on it immediately." he smiles apologetically.

"Baby, I know you didn't do it on purpose." I sigh, "but when I tell you how I'm feeling, I need you to try to understand before getting defensive."

"I know and you are right. It was the part of me that didn't want to admit that I'm actually so busy, so tired and so awful at trying to fit everything in my schedule. This is why I got defensive. Next time I will be better, though." he says and I nod, leaning into his touch, rubbing my cheek against his palm.

"I know you will. We all do mistakes. Thank you for taking your time to think about it." I grin and he wraps an arm around my waist – I waste no time, I immediately press my body against his.

"Of course, baby. I needed to be sure before I come and find you." he sighs and hugs me tightly, sneaking his leg in between mine. I smile and lean in to place a kiss on his lips.

He keeps talking but I am too focused on his lips, or the leg between my legs, or the hands that hold my waist. I listen to what he says but I can feel my arousal burning me. My thighs squeeze his leg and my lips rub themselves against his – I stick my tongue out to lick his bottom lip and that's when he takes the hint.

"What are you doing there, hm?" he hums, his fingers gripping my sides a little harder now.

"I think you need to make it up to me, no? For making me wait all this time while you were thinking." I murmur, my lips going from his lips to his cheek, to his chin and then finally his neck.

He groans and pulls his sweatpants down, not wanting to lose any time either. He places his leg between mine again and I press my clothed pussy against his thigh, making him feel my wetness as I start to rub myself against him.

"I'll make it up to you as many times as you want." he bites down his bottom lip as he slowly takes my shirt off. He's only wearing his boxers and I'm wearing my panties, we're still under the covers.

He grips my waist and I start to fully grind on him, rocking my hips, moving them back and forth on his thigh, "Chris. I want you." I whisper and he smiles.

"I can feel it." he whispers and leans in to take my earlobe in his mouth, sucking on it, moaning into my ear as he sneaks a finger between his thigh and my pussy, rubbing it while still putting pressure with his leg.

I almost whine at how much wetter he made me in just one second, and I travel my hand down his body to grab his clothed dick, taking it out to wrap my fingers around it, rubbing up and down his shaft.

He moans and I can feel his body shaking a little bit – he leans in and takes my nipple in his mouth, groaning around it and biting it gently. I gasp and tug on his hair. He grabs his own cock and brings it closer to my pussy, rubbing the tip of it against my panties, making it even wetter.

"Mmm, Chris.." moaning, I wrap my arms around him, trying to rub myself against his cock as much as possible.

With his fingers, he pushes my panties to the side and starts rubbing the tip of his wet cock against my clit, making sure to run it over my entrance, collecting my juices and then rubbing them all over my clit again.

"Please fuck me already, I am ready for you." I whine, I want to scream how much I want him right now.

He moans at my words and completely takes my panties off. He grabs my leg and hooks his arm under my knee, keep my leg lifted as he teases my pussy. He finally pushes inside of me and I lose it – I couldn't believe I could get any more wet, but apparently I can.

"Shit, baby.. you're so wet and warm." he moans, burying his face into my neck to press kisses all over my skin. His thrusts are gentle and slow as he fucks into me with love, while bruising my skin with kisses at the same time.

I moan and cup his cheeks, making him look at me before attacking his lips with passionate kisses. He grabs the leg that he's been lifting up again, making me wrap it around his waist as he rolls over to his back, making me get on top of him while still being inside of me.

"Fuck.. yes.. like this.." I whisper in his ear – I am completely laying on top of him, my breasts pressed against his chest, my legs on either side of him, my face buried in his neck and my hands grabbing his hair.

I can hear him moaning my name as he starts picking up the pace, fucking me a little harder this time – his hands are on my buttcheeks, squeezing them and spreading them as he pushes his cock in and out.

"Hell.. I don't think I can last any longer, baby girl.." he curses under his breath and moans into my ear softly, heavy breathing, placing a soft kiss on it.

"I'm gonna cum.." I warn, too, my pussy clenching around him as I feel him lifting my body up and down – I am at his mercy, completely.

"Mhmm, cum on my dick." he whispers and I let out a loud moan, tugging on his hair again. My body is trembling as he gives my butt a little smack and that's all it takes for me to cum with a loud moan of his name.

He groans and starts thrusting into me with a much faster pace, his fingers digging into the skin of my ass as he finally cums inside of me with a loud moan as well. I can feel him filling me up and my eyes roll to the back of my head.

We sit there in silence for quite a while, "I love make-up sex." I mumble against his shoulder and he laughs.

"I love you." he whispers, he hasn't moved an inch, still inside of me.

"Good, I love you too. Let me stay like this for a while."

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samandcolbyownme · 13 days

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Colby brock hate sex makeup sex smut after argument?🎀🎀🎀

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, swearing, dominant!Colby, rough actions, choking, rough unprotected sex, pet names cute and dirty, creampie, biting, hair pulling, breeding kink? Pregnancy talk? filth

I’ve gotten a TON of this request, so if you sent in the anon about feeling like I’ve been ignoring you, I’m sorry!! I hope this makes up for it. Ily 🖤

Enjoy! | not edited

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Arguing. That’s what you’ve been doing with your boyfriend, or ex? You aren’t sure at this point, for the last three hours.

Screaming and bitching back and forth between one another. Claims being made that aren’t true. Anger driving both of your minds without any clarity whatsoever.

“Can I just fu-“

“See! See.” Colby motions to you, cutting you off, “I can’t even fuck spe-“ You groan and he groans louder as you as you yell over him, “You should know by now that Jake doesn’t know shit when he’s shit fucking faced.”

Colby stands there, anger painting his face as he stays silent. You lift your arms and let them fall, slapping against your thighs as you sigh, “To add, two other girls had the same dress as me, so it could have been an-y-bo-dy.”

Colby stares at you for a few more seconds, “if you cut me off, one more fuckin’ time.” He blows air through his nose, “You’re not gonna like it, y/n.”

Government name. Someone’s is trouble.

You were tempted. Majorly tempted, but Colby was pretty pissed. You weren’t sure why at you, because you were literally with Tara the whole night. Not one person touched you in anyway Colby does.

You stare back at him, pretending to zip your lips and toss the key behind you. You motion for him to take the floor and you cross your arms.

“I ju-“ Colby shakes his head, spinning around to turn away from you as he laughs, “Jesus Christ.” He drops his hands to his sides, turning back towards you, “You drive me in-fucking-sane.”

He steps towards you, “I know.. I know, you’re telling me the truth, I just..” You innocently bite your lip, nodding your head as you look up at him. He looks down at you and licks his lips, “Just the thought of another man touching you..” he pauses, reaching out to brush your cheek with his thumb, “Literally drives me to the brink of insanity.”

You purse your lips, waiting for your turn to speak but he smirks, nodding his head, “I know what I’m gonna do.” You tilt your head and Colby nods, “Go to the bedroom and get undressed for me, sweetheart.”

Colby pats your ass as he walks by you, giving you a smirk as he walks up the steps and into the bathroom. You follow in his direction, but make your way into the bedroom, doing as he said.

You take a deep breath before taking off your t-shirt and sweats, dropping them into a pile at the end of the bed. You slowly crawl up, turning to sit down in the middle at the top.

A few minutes later, Colby comes in and there’s a towel around his waist. You can see that his cock is growing harder the longer he looks at you, so you give him a smirk.

“Good girl.” He smirks, watching your face drop as soon as the words slip off his tongue, “That’s what I thought.” He mumbles as he closes the door and walks over to you, stopping at the end of the bed, “Lay down.”

He watches as you move to lay down, eyes staying on him until he pulls his towel off, letting it lay with your clothes. Your eyes watch as he crawls up towards you, moving all the way up to pin your hands down by your head, “If you so much as say one word, I’m stopping.” He tilts his head, “and I don’t think you want me to stop, do you?”

You shake your head, biting down on your lip as his eyes stay on yours, “Since I’m so pissed right now, is it okay if I use that pussy of yours?” You nod and he smirks, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. You soak up the gentleness of his kiss now, because you know it’s straight roughness from here on out.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you after, I’m just so pissed at anyone that isn’t you right now.” He taps your hip, “Roll over for me.” You roll over onto your stomach and hold yourself up on your elbows.

When you’re least expecting it, a sharp sting is smacked onto your right ass cheek, causing you to yelp. You look back at Colby and he bites his lower lip, massaging the print of his hand on your skin.

He lifts his hand and you watch, whimpering out as his other hand comes down to deliver the same mark onto your opposite cheek. “Fuck.” Colby groans, making your ass jiggle with his hands, “I can’t blame anyone for wanting to touch you.”

Colby moves and is now straddling your thighs, “You’re so fucking beautiful.” He drags his hand up your back and your brace yourself for him to rip at your hair, but he doesn’t, instead he lifts your hips a little and you can feel spit sliding down to be collected by the head of his cock.

“Pussy is fucking..” he groans as he slides in, gripping your hips as he pulls you all the way onto him, “Sluttiest fucking pussy for me.” You let out a moan, heavily fighting back the urge to moan out his name. Colby pulls out, but not all the way, and digs his fingertips deeper as he rails back in.

He slides a hand up, fingers tangling around as much hair he can get. He gives your upper body a yank, lifting you up onto the flat of your hands with a whimper, his cock still railing into you from behind. Colby leans down, planting kissing up your shoulder until he reaches your ear, “Who are you?”

He pushes his cock all the way into you, holding it there as he breathes against your neck. He lifts his head, tone whimperish, “Who. Are. You?” He starts to thrust and you grip the sheets, crying out, “Yours, baby! Fuck, I-I’m yours!”

“That’s right.” Colby turns your head, planting sloppy kissing to what he can reach of your lips, “I don’t want anyone else feeling this pussy.” He groans out, “Who’s pussy is this?”

“Yours!” You whimper out squeezing his cock and he groans, “My little slut gonna cum for me, huh? I can feel that pussy squeezing me.” You nod as much as you can with his grip still on your hair, “Y-yes. P-pl-please.”

Colby’s thrust remain strong, hard and rough. He moans, “Have you been a good girl? A good little whore for me?” The whine you let out gets cut short by his hand sliding around your neck, squeezing, “Ye-s. I’ve been a good little whore.” Colby tilts your head back, “Do you deserve it?” You moan loudly as you feel your orgasm teetering on the edge, “Fuck.” You cry out, “I deserve your cock, baby, please please please.”

Colby sits up, pulling out to roll you onto your back, quickly resuming the thrusts he left off with. Your back arches and your eyes roll back as the pleasures starts to mix with a growing ache, “F-Fuck, Colby!” You squeeze his cock and your legs wrap tightly around his waist.

His hands have your wrist pinned down by your head, but if you had your hands on him, you know you’d be leaving red lines up and down his back, “F-Fuck.” Colby continues his pace, quickly causing a feeling of overstimulation to slowly flood in.

His thrust weren’t caring, the grip on your wrist and what he had on your hips weren’t either. You just hope they don’t bruise, but at the same time, you kind of wanted them.

Colby’s thrusts quickly grow sloppy and he leans down, lips connecting to your lips, “Can I cum in this pussy? Mark it as mine, sweetheart?” Half dazed, you nod and gasp as you feel his cock twitch inside of you. You moan out quietly as Colby leans down, “Maybe this’ll put a baby in you so people know that you’re mine.”

You close your eyes as you feel Colby’s cock slip out of you and your legs fall to the right when he moves from in between them.

You lay there for a few minutes, eyes closed until you feel the bed dip down beside you. You turn your head, slowly opening your eyes, “Are you still mad?” Colby presses his lips to yours and hums, “No. I know you wouldn’t ever do anything. You were right, I let my anger get the best of me. I’m sorry.”

You reach up, laying a hand on his cheek, “I think we both lost our cool for like three hours.” He sighs, smiling, “Are you okay? You good?” He looks over your body and back to your face. You take a deep breathe, “I think I want to go for a bath, and when we get back..” you smile up at him, poking his cheek, “You’re going to do what you promised me you were going to do.”

He turns his head to kiss the palm of your head, “Deal.”

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