#i want to trap him in a little box and shake it around
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So we know Gabriel’s armor changes color from a default silver to red when he’s super pissed. Implying his armor changes color with his emotions (because he’s a special little princess).
So the obvious question is: can he blush
#my art#ultrakill#gabriel ultrakill#what’s he lookin at? no.. i shan’t say#i hate his gay ass#i want to trap him in a little box and shake it around#do enjoy painting him tho#straka's shitposts
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One More? Please? - G.S.
Synopsis. A kiss always solves everything! But when a kiss turns into something more…well, it’s only a desperate attempt to unseal yourselves from this damned prison realm, right? Right?
Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, coworkers to lovers, being stuck in that damn box, oral (female), mutual másturbation, spitting, fáce-sítting, máting press, Satoru is down bad for you, chóking, overstim, multiple rounds, créampie, pet names (sweetheart), swearing.
Word count. 4.4k
A/N. Happy belated two months to this blog! Concept inspired by this post by @kingkonoha.
“Maybe we should kiss and see if the box opens?”
“That’s the dumbest fucking thing to ever come out of your mouth.”
“Hey- it works in the movies! True love’s kiss and all-”
You heave out a heavy sigh that makes even the skeleton at your shoulder shake its head in pity. Goddamn, if these curses weren’t going to kill him then you will.
“I take it back. That’s the dumbest fucking thing to ever come out of your mouth.”
Satoru hooks a thumb over his blindfold to gaze at you with mock seriousness. Oh, how the mighty have fallen - and how you were teetering dangerously close to a stroke with each dramatic bat of his long lashes.
“C’monnn~” he whines, with the flair of someone that was not sealed in an inescapable prison, “Don’t tell me that in all these years you’ve never once been at least a little tempted to kiss me, sweetheart.”
“I’d rather kiss that dusty skull.” Shooting him a pointed look that makes even the skulls at your feet recoil. It would almost be hilarious if it wasn’t for the fact that you were trapped. In the prison realm. With Gojo Satoru of all people. Possibly forever.
Shit, is this karma for all those times you ditched Satoru with Nanami instead of dealing with him yourself?
Now, Satoru might be going about it with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, but just a few minutes ago when his life flashed before his very eyes at the mere sight of Suguru - or at least, the monster wearing his body - he’d expected some of his favorite memories to be the ones with you in it.
You - his lil’ coworker - in all your gorgeous, smart-mouthed glory. And maybe if he was lucky, he even expected a couple glimpses of you in his future. Preferably with a giant rock on your finger.
But that’s a story for another time, what he certainly did not expect was for your stupidly heroic (and quite beautiful) ass to jump right in the middle of the prison realm’s ensnarement.
Although, honestly, right now he doesn’t think he’d want to be locked up in here with anyone but you - and that withering glare you send him.
Undeterred, Satoru has the audacity to throw his head back and laugh. Laugh. A sound you’ve come to realize over the years, as innocent as it sounds, does not bode well for you or your sanity.
A sanity that’s been slowly dwindling since your first day of meeting Satoru. Back then, a brash, cocky new teacher that waltzed into the halls of Jujutsu Tech in those pretentious sunglasses like he owned the place.
Well, not that he was any different right now. Lounging over some disgruntled skeletons, you half-expected him to pull out a deck chair and start sunbathing amidst the bones. Your begrudging coworker - and occasional bane of your existence - seemed right at home.
You, however, were decidedly not having the time of your life.
“I swear, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you grumble, wincing at the bones prodding you from almost every angle.
“Can you blame me?” he hums, now fully tugging down his blindfold to hang around his neck, “It’s not every day I get to spend quality time with my favorite person in the world.”
You scoff, strangely self-conscious as those striking blue sweep your figure from head to toe. “Lucky me. Well why don’t you spend this quality time helping me figure out how the hell we can get out of here.”
“I already told y-”
“Anything but that.”
With a sulky huff, Satoru peers down at you, “Then we just wait till someone gets us out of here. I’m sure Megumi-chan is just tearing his emo hair out trying to unseal this thing.”
“...”
“You’re absolutely correct, Yuji then. Or…” he tilts his head towards a sad pile of bones, “We end up like our little friend over there. Though I’d make a far better looking skeleton-”
You don’t hear the rest of Satoru’s rant over the small noise of concern that falls from your lips. Something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach at the fact that yes you really were stuck in the prison realm with Gojo Satoru. Possibly forever. And no this wasn’t some strange dream like when you and Shoko accidentally raided the wrong brownie box in the kitchen.
Shit.
And perhaps it showed on your face, because you’re jolted out of your reverie by warm fingers intertwining with yours. Grounding. Satoru’s eyes now searching yours with an intensity that made you squirm uncomfortably.
“Hey, we’ll figure this out, okay?” he mutters softly. “Remember that time we accidentally set the training ground on fire?” leaning in closer now, “Or that mission we got chased by that cursed vending machine?”
You roll your eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite yourself. “Yeah, and then you nearly got us killed trying to order a sweet tea. ”
Satoru chuckles, squeezing your hand reassuringly. “See? It worked out, didn’t it? It always does, sweetheart.”
And if your heart does a strange little lurch, well, then you just blame it on the femur jabbing into your side.
All is quiet in your little hell. That is, until.
“Hey, Satoru…does kissing really work in the movies?”
You barely catch the way Satoru’s breath hitches ever-so-slightly as he leans in closer. eyes sparkling with mischief. And oh you knew that look - one that was usually accompanied by a lecture by Yaga, one that sent shivers down your spine. He grins, “Well, there’s only one way to find out, hm?”
Embarrassment and amusement bubbles inside you, tumbling out in the form of a barely-audible, “A peck. One.”
“Awww. Eight?”’
“No.”
“Five?”
“Satoru.”
Minty breath fanning your face, “Okay okay, one peck and a kiss to your forehead. C’mon, it’s a bargain~”
Pinching your nose, you sigh out a weary, “This is so stupid. Fine, but if it doesn’t work then I’m strangling you.”
And it’s all that is said before his lips are on yours.
Soft. Satoru’s lips were so soft. And he tasted so unfairly of caramel apples and sweet, sweet mischief. Just like him. Feather-light and fleeting - yet the kiss burns into your brain with an intensity that you strangely didn’t mind.
It’s over before you know it. The cold air hits your lips as Satoru’s words ring in your ears, a disappointed little, “Aw, that didn’t work.”
Barely even risking a glance at the still very sealed realm, your body reacts before your mind - the expensive cotton of his uniform collar soft against your fingers as you pull Satoru towards you with a sense of urgency you can’t quite explain.
And then you’re kissing him. And he’s kissing you because shit this is all that Satoru’s been dreaming about since he turned 23 and suddenly realized that oh you were frighteningly everything that he ever wanted.
“S-Satoru,” you whisper, breathless against his lips.
“Shhhh, my girl. One more. Didn’t work.”
His lips are searing on yours. Urgent and greedy, because fuck if it took getting trapped in the prison realm to finally kiss you then God knows when he’ll be able to again.
Which is why he breathes you in like he doesn’t have enough time, and probably never will - even in this godforsaken box where time never passes.
“Shit. O-one more.”
Drinking in your sweet gasps as he intertwines his tongue with yours, tasting how sinfully delicious you were. Satoru’s hands wander the expanse of your body, cupping your head to kiss you deeper, snaking down to squeeze your ass - and everything in between.
Pulling away ever-so-slightly with a playful bite to your bottom lip, he leaves a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. The disappointed whine that leaves your pretty mouth makes all the blood in Satoru’s body rush to his cock.
“Sweetheart.” he grunts into the crook of your neck, lips ghosting over your racing pulse. “Y’think I kissed the wrong lips?”
Oh?
Satoru’s words send a jolt of electricity running down your spine - all the way down to your heated cunt. “W-what?” you managed to choke out, cheeks flaring as he raises his eyes to meet yours and-
Oh.
Oh, shit. If the curses weren’t going to kill you then Satoru sure might.
You’re snapped out of your thoughts by Satoru carefully jostling the two of you so that he’s lying on his back, your body manhandled to straddle his pretty face.
“Satoru, when you mean ‘wrong lips’...here?” you trail off, still reeling from him and the abrupt change in position and him.
“Exactly what I mean,” he chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating beneath your dripping cunt. “Now, spread ‘em wider f’me. Let me taste you- Need it s’bad.”
Body moving as if on autopilot, your knees part wider to let him greedily take in the sight of your soaked panties. Beads of slick seeping through the thin fabric each time his hot breath meets your cunt.
But not for long - the cool air hits you before you realize what’s happening. Because Satoru is ripping your flimsy panties off with one hand. Throwing it behind to God-knows-where with the urgency of a madman.
“Shit, so wet f’me already.” he groans, mouth watering at the obscene sight of you clenching around nothing. “S’gorgeous. You really are perfect everywhere, huh?” he mutters through lazy, languid kisses along your thighs. Tongue darting out just so to leisurely trace circles along the heated skin.
Strong arms wrap around your thighs, the stretch nothing with the two long fingers spreading your swollen folds apart. Your face burns from just how adoring Satoru looks below you.
You buck into his touch, “Hngh- Please. Wan’ your mouth on me.”
And perhaps the great Gojo Satoru decided to be merciful for once in his life, because without another word, he’s surging forward. Tongue flicking out to tease your sloppy entrance, pooling your juices before tipping his head back, back, back to let it slide down his throat so sinfully.
Shit, Satoru could just cum in his pants right now, of course you taste heavenly. Better than he could’ve ever imagined on any lonely night.
You shudder as he flattens his tongue across your folds, sliding teasingly between them, grazing your swollen clit just barely at an unhurried rhythm that almost has Satoru forgetting where he was. But quite frankly, he couldn’t give less of a fuck about it either.
“This what you wanted, sweetheart?” he hums around your clit, the vibrations making you squeal. Sucking gently, tongue rolling harshly against your bundle of nerves, over and over- “Cause it’s what I’ve been wanting for years.”
The words ring in your ears almost as much as the lewd squelches below. Years?
“F-fuck- feels hngh- What do you mean y-years, Satoru?”
Oh, Satoru thinks he could pass out just at the way you whine out his name so prettily. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, a hand hastily snaking down to unbuckle his pants. “Mhmm~ Couldn’t go a day without sparring with you where I didn’t think of bending you over and tasting you right there y’know.”
Your eyes snap down to meet Satoru’s hazy, half-lidded ones. Something dark and feral shining within them. And right now, thighs wrapped around his head, you don’t think he’s ever looked happier. White locks splayed out, a fucked-out expression on his face as his tongue bullies past your folds, you could feel the slight smile curling his lips against you.
It’s overwhelming - both his confession and the way Satoru was making out with your cunt like a man starved.
Nose-deep in your pussy, tongue alternating between its abuse on your throbbing clit and dipping in and out of your sloppy hole at a maddening pace. Mouth only speeding up ruthlessly at the way you convulse and grind involuntarily on top of him.
God, Satoru was going insane at the way your walls were sucking him up so good, clamping down with each push of his tongue.
“Shit- made jus’ f’me. You like that, don’t you?” he growls against your cunt, voice hoarse with desire. “Like fucking my face with your pussy?”
“Oh! Ngh, yes Satoru- L-love it-”
A bruising grip on your hips, encouraging you to rock against his face. Harder. Tongue more desperate. He couldn’t get enough. Meeting your every grind, tongue lapping at your cunt so obscenely.
Breaths ragged and hot against your cunt, drinking you in with the desperation of a man that wouldn’t mind giving up air for your essence. And it was Satoru - of course he wouldn’t mind.
Especially with the large hand snaking up your thigh, going from drawing reassuring patterns at your hips to rubbing tight, little circles on your pulsing clit. Hasty, and urgent - like he had no time to waste. “Tha’s right, my girl. Give it up for me,”
Every cell in your body is on fire, every nerve ending singing with pleasure at the way Satoru plays your body like an instrument.
“M’close, Satoru- Hah- s’close.” you moan breathlessly, a hand tangling in his soft strands. Using it as leverage to ride Satoru’s pretty face just the way you like it.
But you didn’t have to - because Satoru seems to already know exactly what to do. Exactly how to quirk his tongue just right to brush against all your most sensitive spots. Exactly how to match the rhythm of his abuse on your clit to the way he was tonguefucking you into delirium. Exactly how to look at you with such a hungry expression that devours you almost as much as his mouth.
“Cum f’me, sweetheart.”
Satoru didn’t even have to ask. Because you’re cumming with a strangled gasp of his name. White-hot pleasure coursing through you like lightning, body trembling as you cum all over Satoru’s pretty face.
Hands moving your limp, boneless hips across his face, forcing you to ride out peak after peak on his red lips.
As the blood roaring in your ears bates, and you blink back your vision, the first thing you see are those familiar blue eyes gazing up at you. Holding you steady, lips brushing gentle kisses along your inner thighs.
Oh, how beautiful he was like this.
“S-S’toru?” you mewl, still sensitive from your orgasm as Satoru shifts underneath you to sit you prettily in his lap.
“Mhm?” he nuzzles your neck.
“One more. It didn’t work.”
Oh, if you knew the only way to shut up Gojo Satoru was to say something like this then you would’ve done it a lot sooner.
But Satoru’s stunned silence doesn’t last for long, because he grins, low and sultry, “You’re right. It didn’t work.”
The metallic clinking of a belt echoes in the stuffy chamber as Satoru hastily pushes down his pants. Cock springing free to hit his lower abs, “What a shame.”
You blink at the sheer size of him - he was going to split you in two. It was unfair, really. Water is wet. Gojo Satoru has a big dick.
But oh was he pretty - so pretty. Prominent veins glistening in the dim lighting, fat tip flushed your favorite shade of delicate pink, leaking furiously in between your thighs.
Gulping, you reach out to wrap your hand around his achingly hard cock. So warm and heavy in your hands. “Y-yeah, what a shame.”
Both of you watch - entranced - at the way he twitches in your grasp at the mere sound of your voice. A maddening little bump! bump! bump! against your palm as you begin pumping him slowly - so agonizingly slow.
“Oh- Feel s’good, sweetheart.” Satoru hisses lowly as you swipe at the precum beading at this head. Thumbing teasingly under his sensitive slit, tracing delicately along his veins.
And by God does it do something to you to see the great Gojo Satoru falling apart for you, hair tousled, lips kiss-bitten, and eyes looking at you like he wanted to positively eat you alive. It made your cunt throb so desperately, slick forming a dark wet patch on his trousers.
Not one to be left behind, his long fingers deftly snake down to your dripping cunt. Not wasting any time before bullying his fingertips past your swollen folds, curling expertly to press down against that one spot that has your fist faltering on his cock. Hard.
Pretty little moans left your lips at the way Satoru so easily matches your pace. Thrusting knuckle-deep into your pussy in and out - hitting that spot over and over.
“Shit, Toru- s’deep inside me. I’m- hngh-”
Satoru was in heaven, really. You were so warm and wet around both his fingers and his throbbing cock.
Only two thoughts running through his mind right now - 1. He was right, your hands were softer and more sinfully delicious around his swollen cock. And 2. The hardest battle he’s ever fought was probably right now - at your mercy, trying not to spill all over your hands because he’d be damned if he finally scored the girl and came in two seconds.
Shit, he thinks fingers almost erratic now, he needs you to cum. Right now.
As if sensing his urgency, your moves become more frantic, Satoru’s brows furrowing at the way you increase your pace. His hips twitch, as if trying to thrust into your fist. matching your pace as you start stroking him harder, faster.
Ah, but alas, the great Gojo Satoru’s reputation precedes him.
“Oh, fuck- M’gonna-” And soon enough, you’re seeing stars behind your eyes - or maybe those were tears - as you cum. Hard.
Body moving before your mind, you’re clenching around Satoru’s fingers, grinding down so ferally as you edge him closer and closer. “C’mon, Toru. One more, right?” you whisper brokenly, lips ghosting his ear.
Breath coming in short, strained gasps of what sounded like your name now, “Oh- fuck ngh- so close.” he warns, voice hoarse. “If you keep doing that, I won’t be responsible for what happens next.”
You smirk, raising a brow, “Is that a threat, Satoru?”
Willing his fucked-out eyes open, they bore into yours as he utters, “No, ah- it’s a p-promise.”
Without warning, Satoru clasps your wrists, forcing you to stop pumping him. The disappointed mewl threatening to spill from your lips is cut off just as your back hits the ground.
Slam!
You think you could almost get whiplash from how swiftly Satoru had you caged and splayed out so shamefully beneath him.
You whine, “But you didn’t even get to-”
“Fuck, not now. Gotta feel you or else m’gonna cum so embarrassingly all over your fist.” He rests his throbbing erection laid out so enticingly across your stomach, leaking hot precum onto your skin. And that makes you shut up, eyes mapping where it ended and realizing that yeah, you might’ve faced more mercy with the curses outside of this box. “Besides. One more, right?”
And before you can respond, Satoru’s spitting on you once. Twice. Thrice.
You flinch as the wads of saliva hit your dripping cunt, mixing with your slick so obscenely as Satoru smears it across your swollen folds. Your mouth drops into a soft oh! of disbelief as he promptly pops his thumb into his mouth, groaning at the taste.
“Shit.” Satoru hisses lowly, “One more might just not be enough.”
Not wasting a moment longer, he’s bullying his throbbing cock into your snug cunt. Head thrown back as your plush walls desperately try to accommodate his size.
“Oh. Oh shit hah- should’ve been locked up here ngh- sooner.” he groans, words straight from his cock. “Feel s’heavenly around m-me.” Because God Satoru thinks he wouldn’t even mind staying here for the rest of his life if it meant he got to have you like this.
You moan at the positively delicious stretch of your pussy, plush walls unable to decide between pushing him out and milking the soul out of him. “Hah- Toru s’too big. I can’t-”
“You will.” he grits out, teeth clenched and brows furrowed as he focuses on letting you adjust. Pressing inch by fucking inch. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he fights that feral part of himself that just wants to plunge into your pretty pussy till his tip kisses your cervix, and you’re drunk on nothing but his cock.
But he didn’t have to - because you’re immediately wrapping your legs around his toned waist, pulling Satoru to you recklessly until his heavy balls smack your ass. Tufts of snowy white hair - already so wet with your slick and his precum - finally meeting your cunt.
“Ah! Shit, s’full Toru.” you keen, body bowing into his.
There’s not even a hair's breadth between your bodies now as Satoru chuckles darkly. “You little minx. Thought you couldn’t handle me, but you really wanted to be split apart on my cock, huh?”
You feel almost shy under his gaze as you mumble out a quiet little, “Well you did say one more.”
Ah, Satoru thinks deliriously, if you aren’t Mrs. Gojo by the time you two get out of this then there’s seriously something wrong with him.
But he doesn’t tell you that. Instead with a satisfied smirk, he claims your lips in a searing kiss, sucking your tongue so lewdly as he did with your cunt. Parting for only a second before pressing his lips to yours again. And again. And again, as if it hurt to part.
“Mhm. Always wanted to do this, sweetheart.” he hums against your pretty lips. “Fuck ever since you hah- walked in on that first day.”
Kissing you sweetly with a tenderness that doesn’t translate to his hips as pulls back, back, back. All the way till his angry, hard tip was just grazing your sloppy entrance. “One more.”
Body moving before his mind, his hips start fucking into your dripping cunt recklessly. Satoru doesn’t fuck you with the finesse he imagined he would all these years, rough, harsh thrusts fueled by pure need and all the desperation from these last few years.
In one, fluid movement, the burn of the stretch hits you before the realization that Satoru has thrown your legs over his sculpted shoulders.
“Ah- So good, Toru. Oh my god- hah-” you mewl at the change in angle. His pulsing dick expertly hitting that one spot inside you which has your words slurring together, body arching off the floor to press so impossibly close against him.
And, well, Satoru isn’t any better - because he’s slamming his cock into you mindlessly. Hitting that spot over and over.
With one hand, he caresses your stomach. Whispering out a ragged, “Feel me inside? Feel me right…” Pressing his palm down hard, “Here.”
The other forces you to look up at him, drinking in your whines of “Yes yes yes, can feel you s-so deep hngh- inside me, Toru.”
You’re so cockdrunk and full of Satoru that you barely notice the hands groping their way down your body. Catching harshly on your swollen clit, starting to draw, quick, frenzied circles that match the cadence of his hips smacking into yours.
“Look at me.” he murmurs raspily, “Open your mouth.”
And you can do nothing but take it, tongue lolling out so lewdly for the warm stream of spit that hits it. Once. Twice.
You look up at him with teary eyes, as you take it all - anything and everything he was giving. And it makes Satoru bow his head with a fucked-out groan, cock twitching so animalistically as it keeps plunging inside you roughly. Deft fingers on your clit becoming more desperate.
Harder. Faster. Balls squeezing so painfully. Like a lamb to slaughter, he was going to eat you up - and you were going to let thim.
You squeal at the overstimulation, hips bucking up for more more more-
“God, sweetheart, you don’t know what you do to me.” he moans, voice strained with desire and the euphoria of getting everything he’s wanted for so long. It was driving him insane. “Now c’mon. One more. Give me one more like my good girl.”
“Hngh- yes- Toru!”
You don’t even know what “one more” means anymore - all you do know is that you’re cumming and cumming all around Satoru’s unforgiving cock. Walls fluttering so snugly, your body convulses as you cream around his cock. Nails dragging down the expanse of his sculpted back, Satoru’s name leaving your bruised lips and into the heady air like a prayer every time his tip kisses your cervix. His new favorite melody.
And that seems to be what makes him snap as well - because with a final, sloppy thrust, he’s painting your walls such a sinful white. Pumping thick, hot ropes of his cum into your quivering cunt.
“Shit- yeah, my girl. Take it. Take it all f’me.” Satoru shudders above you, head thrown back, chest heaving as he fucks you through your high. Movements nothing more than shallow, mindless little thrusts to get you both off so animalistically.
It was so fucking filthy - and exactly what you needed so badly. He was exactly what you needed so badly.
Now, Satoru only had to take one look as you use him so obscenely for your pleasure - eyes dazed, drool trickling down the corner of your mouth - before he thinks he might just cum again. And again. And again until he physically couldn’t anymore.
But first…
Pulling out of your heavenly pussy with a lewd pop! His long fingers delicately collects the mixture of slick and cum now gushing out of you obscenely.
Aw, what a waste, Satoru muses as it pools below you sinfully. If it was up to him he wouldn’t waste a single drop from your pretty cunt.
But no matter.
Abruptly, Satoru bullies two fingers into your mouth - forcing you to taste yourself, to taste him. Pressing right at the back of your tongue in a way that has you choking and gagging around him, teary eyes just begging up at him. Perfect - you were so perfect for him.
Kissing your forehead with a tenderness that doesn’t match his actions, he hums, faux innocence lacing his words, “What a shame, the box didn’t open yet.”
And oh does he love the excitement lighting up your exhausted eyes. Pretty thighs twitching underneath him as a slow, fucked-out little smile curls your lips.
“One more? Please?”
A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.
#gojo x reader#gojo smut#gojo x you#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk x you#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk#jjk fic#jujutsu kaisen#gojo satoru#tonywrites
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𝝑𝝔 an: just cool bf sukuna dying his hair black and asking his loser gf to help him hehe. man i love the way this series turned out, ALSO THANK YOU FOR 600 FOLLOWERS WTF😭😭 everyone is so nice i wanna cry :(( i promise im writing your requests guys, just need a lil more time so be patient with me!! more about cool bf sukuna x loser gf reader here!!
“do you know how to use box dye?”
“no?”
“the fuck d’you even know then?” sukuna rolls his eyes at you, throwing his jacket on your stool and falling down on the bed beside you. you ignore his words, opening your arms for him to settle on your chest and he does so without a question.
“we can watch a tutorial on youtube if you want?” you suggest and he grumbles something incoherently before closing his eyes and dozing off on your chest, face buried into your neck and arms tight around your middle.
so you take it upon yourself to watch a couple of tutorials and checking the instructions in the box dye, occasionally looking down at your boyfriend and imagining him with black hair. he’d look pretty in anything, you conclude and place a featherlight kiss on his forehead, right on his tattoo.
when sukuna wakes up, eyes half open and brows pinched in his usual frown, he finds you still awake, looking at your screen with great attention and the nail of your thumb between your teeth. you don’t pay him any mind as he crawls up under your arm to see what you’re so interested in.
“were you watching these the whole time?” he asks, a playful smirk on his lips, when he notices that you’re watching tutorials.
“yeah, wanted to help you.”
he smacks a kiss onto your cheek, “heh, loser, you’ll just do it for me then.”
you don’t mind, just nodding along and giving him a sweet smile in return. sukuna suppresses the dreamy sigh that threatens to come out of him when he sees how obedient you are with him, how patient and sweet you are.
as you add all of the ingredients into a bowl, you give it to sukuna with instructions to mix it all together, but as soon as he starts you regret your decision because he somehow manages to get it all over the sink and marbles and even some on the mirror above the sink. you suspect he did it just so you wouldn’t task him with anything else, which he doesn’t even deny because he is an asshole like that.
his previously pink tufts soon disappear under the black dye and it looks so natural on sukuna that you once again wonder if he was lying about his hair being naturally pink. you continue dying until all of his hair is covered. he groans about you finally being done and pinches you when you mutter under your nose about him just sitting and not doing anything but still complaining.
it’s, of course, a total mess when it’s time to wash out the excess hair dye; sukuna is such a menace about it too. he just shakes his head in every direction he can so that the black droplets of water stick everywhere, dirtying the white marbles of your bathroom shower.
at your request to stop sukuna just sprays you with the water.
eventually, you manage to wash out everything while he just lets out silly chuckles, mocking your whines and complaints about him being a pig. he sits down on your little chair again, now facing you instead of the mirror, his shirt off and knees trapping your thighs between his legs as you dry his hair with a towel gently.
sukuna tugs the towel down impatiently and looks at you, a smirk appearing on his face at the sight of your red face and bitten lips, “how do i look?”
you gulp down roughly as you watch him stand up to check himself out. he ruffles his hair before smoothing it back, biceps flexing in the process, and a very satisfied expression takes over his features. sukuna turns to face you once again, raising a brow at you, still waiting for your answer.
“you look really pretty, ‘kuna,” you nearly whisper, hand coming up to touch his damp hair, gliding down the nape of his neck. “so so pretty.”
his palm meets the top of your head in a gentle pat, fingers threading through your hair and gliding down then to cup your jaw in his favourite demanding manner. he pulls your head up, nails slightly digging into your cheek as he kisses your lips, earning a pleased hum from you.
you grip his shoulders tightly, palms splayed over his tattoos, trying not to lose your balance on your tiptoes, and whine when he pulls away, chasing his lips.
“‘m not some princess, am i?” sukuna shakes your head in his hold, smiling down at you with fondness written over his features. “you could call me hot instead.”
“you look very pretty tho, ‘kuna.” you tilt your head to one side, a little confused.
he rolls his eyes, pushing your face away with his hand, and ignores the whine you let out after.
#— miya writes!#sukuna x you#sukuna ryomen x you#sukuna ryomen x reader#jjk sukuna#jujustsu kaisen x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna jujutsu kaisen#sukuna ryomen#ryomen sukuna#sukuna x reader#sukuna#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#ryomen sukuna x you#cool bf sukuna x loser gf reader
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fighting lessons | c.l
pairing: dom!charles x sub!reader
warnings: smut, dacryphilia, overstimulation
w/c: 1.2k
summary: your brother was convinced that you need someone to teach you some basic self defense techniques — so he chose his best friend to teach you some…things.
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It was stupid in your opinion but your brother was convinced that you should learn how to defend yourself. You understood the worries that he had since you’re his sister, a young girl in nowadays disgusting men’s world, but it still sucked in your opinion.
“Just so you know, I won’t go easy on you,” he said with a tiny grin, making you tone your eyes before you put your arms up into the typical fighting position.
“Is that the best you can do, little one?” He teased you once again with that nickname as he dodged once again another punch from you, looking down at you with slick smirk.
You huffed, hitting his boxing gloves covered palm again before you gulped and stared up at him with narrowing eyes, basically telling him to shut the fuck up.
Charles laughed at your facial expression, “Say it,” he whispered and nodded along his own words, “c'mon, say it,” he lowered his arms,
“I know you want to, don’t be so shy now,” the monaguesque told you, making you slowly shake your head,
“Let’s just continue charles, c‘mon,” you sighed before you raised your fist and hit him right in the shoulder, forcing his body to stumble a tiny bit backwards. You really tried to bite back your grin but it was no use, he already caught you wickedly grinning up at him.
Charles bit his inner cheek as you covered your mouth to hide the wide grin covering your face now, but he didn’t really look happy as you giggled like a little girl.
“What?” You said as you looked up at him, “I did what you wanted me to do! I hit you!” You laughed with a grin, knowing he didn’t expect it at all.
Your brothers best friend licked his lips, brushing his hand through his rather messy hair, “Try again,” he said in a quite and deep tone, surprising you.
You stopped laughing, “what? Are you sure?”
Charles only nodded before you briefly shrugged and hit him again… or at least you tried to, only that this time he actually — obviously — expected it and quickly caught your fist, turning your entire body swiftly around and pressing his chest forcefully against your back without saying a single word.
“Told you that I won’t go easy on you,” Charles muttered into your ear from behind, lips almost touching your temple as he secured your arms over your chest so you weren’t able to move them, trapping you between his muscular arms and grey compression shirt.
Charles cleared his throat as he felt your ass rubbing against his crotch area, briefly squeezing his eyes shut and furrowing his brows in pleasure before he spoke up, “You do know that you need to do better if you really want to be able to defend yourself in the future, right?” The monaguesque mumbled from behind.
You briefly closed your eyes as well and took a deep breath as you felt his bulge through your pants, “I know,” you admitted in a hush tone, slightly turning your head to the side so that Charles was able to get even better access to your neck.
You heard Charles chuckle for a few seconds before you gasped, suddenly feeling his lips kissing their way from your behind your ear down to your shoulder blade, palms squeezing your arms.
“Good,” Charles replied in a deep and raspy tone, lips still dancing along your hot skin as you dropped the back of your head against his chest, getting lost in the pleasure that he was making you feel.
You gasped, gulping another whine that wanted to escape down before you put your visibly smaller onto his biceps, lightly squeezing it, “Charles, w-we shouldn’t… you know, my brother-”
But your brothers best friend quickly shut you up by putting his hands down your pants, fingertips already teasingly playing with your clit as you stumbled over your words.
“Oh god, c-charles,” you cried out as he circled your clit, lips softly touching the skin behind your ear now, there and then gently biting your earlobe with a deep breaths,
“Yes mon amour?” He replied in a cocky tone, probably smirking behind you as his other arm tightened around you trapped body, making it literally completely unable to move away from him.
You dropped your head forwards, brows furrowed before you heard him groan into the back of your neck, forehead dropping onto your shoulder as you slowly rubbed your ass against his now very visible boner, biting your lip as you noticed how his breathing got more uneven because of it.
“You — oh my god,” you whined in a high pitched tone as he dipped his middle finger into your wet pussy, collecting some of your juice before he went back to rubbing your clit, “you like that?” You quickly gasped before you whined again.
Charles deeply chuckled behind you, groaning and biting his lip before he switched to biting your shoulder, groaning and moaning into your heated skin as you continued rubbing yourself against him, gulping as you felt how big he actually is.
“Fucking hell, y/n baby,” he gulped, making you smirk before you threw your head back, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you felt yourself coming closer and closer to your release, “The t-things I wanna do t-to you right now, shit,” he gasped, “you don’t even wanna know,” he chuckled again, making you cry out.
“I think I-I do actually,” you nodded with a smirk, rubbing clenching pussy against his fingers now as well, feeling your orgasm already building up, “tell me, god charles… please for the l-love of god…tell me,” you whined pathetically.
Charles only raised his head and kissed the sweet spot behind your ear, “You wouldn’t even u-understand a thing, mon amour,” his fingers sped up, making you see literal stars, “you’re to pure for that, aren’t you? Am I right?” He nodded along his words as he said them in a raspy tone, “way to pure and innocent, that’s what you are baby, that’s exactly what you fucking are,” he mumbled.
You felt like you were levitating, like you saw stars, like it was just you and him on this planet right now, nobody else. You bit your lip before you couldn’t hold it back anymore, trembling legs breaking down as you furrowed your brows and came all over his fingers, forcing him to go down with you as your knees hit the floor.
“I got you, don’t worry mon amour,” Charles kissed the top of your head as his fingers till continued rubbing your sensitive clit, making tears shot into your eyes due the overstimulation you were feeling,
“let it all go, baby… don’t hold anything back, want it all c'mon,” he continued as your whines got louder since he still wasn’t stopping.
“C-Charles!” You loudly spoke up, palm slowly reaching forward to stop his moving hand by grabbing his wrist but his hand wouldn’t stop for a second, he just ignored your weak grip on his wrist and continued smiling like in a mean and teasing way behind you,
“I know it feels good, little one, don’t even try to deny it,” he whispered into your ear from behind as you were so close to actually screaming from the overstimulation, your legs shaking like they have never before, “why don’t you be a good little girl for me and put your hand away, yeah?”
You gasped and cried as charles continued talking to you, ordering you to do something but at the same time calming you down whilst you gently removed your palm from his wrist, placing it back onto the floor to gain balance.
Charles chuckled behind you, “that’s my good girl.”
#fanfic#fanfiction#f1#smut#charles#charles leclerc#charles leclerc smut#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x female reader#Charles Leclerc x fem!reader#classic f1#f1 x reader#f1 ferrari#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1 2023
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Strawberry
Pairing: Line Cook!Eddie x Barista Fem!Reader
Summary: Eddie lets slip that he wants something from you, and you’re more than happy to oblige. 😉
Word Count: 6.8k
A/N: Alright, a little explanation. This is technically the fourth installment for this little AU. I just…haven’t finished the other two yet. So if some of this feels like it was maybe pre-established? It is, just in another document that y’all will be able to see soon…ish. Also! This is my first pegging fic, so I ask some mercy for any inaccuracies/issues you may find! Strawberry is the safeword.
Warnings: Pegging! Eddie is being pegged by Reader, A little dom reader if you squint, oral (male receiving), mentions of alcohol, language.
18+ NSFW No Minors Allowed or Wanted
“Okay, so what am I looking for here?”
“Dildos.”
“Yeah, I meant on the wall.” You smirk at Eddie while he gives you a disappointed stare.
“Oh hardy har har.”
You laugh at him and he tries to hit you with a bottle of lube. There’s a small tussle that follows and the poor clerk at the register looks over the screen and clears her throat at the two of you. “Y’all good?” You hide your face in Eddie’s shoulder while he tries his best to straighten out. He nods and waves at the clerk and then slaps your shoulder when you keep shaking against him.
“Would you fuckin’ behave?!”
“Never! You brought me into a sex shop to shop for dildos, what do expect from me?”
“Class?” He says, turning you around to face the wall of silicon again. You snort and grab the bright pink dildo in front of you.
“Is this what you had in mind?” You push it into his chest and he turns it over, staring at the front of the package.
“It’s only 5 inches, you think I can’t handle more?” You know he’s kidding, but you can see the pink blush on his ears where he’s starting to embarrass himself. You decide to push it further since this afternoon is turning into one long bit anyways.
“Oh baby, you couldn’t handle what I’d like to give you.” Your tongue lolls out of your mouth and you grab at his hip, pretending to hump the side of him while his face flushes. “Aww,” You lean in close and push your nose into his rapidly heating cheek, “You gettin’ all hot and bothered?”
“Maybe.” He looks sidelong at you when your fingers creep under his t-shirt and graze his stomach. You smush your face in more and laugh into his cheek while he shoves the box back on the shelf. “Listen, you wanna pick this out or not?”
“Oh no no, this wasn’t my idea.”
“Well if you don’t want to do it, we don’t have to.” He drops his smile to give you a serious look. You know he means it, always does when it comes to your shared comfort but he’s not getting away that easy. You grab him by the belt loops and pull him behind a pillar, out of the direct view of the cashier.
“I’m sorry, you think you’re just going to casually mention that you’ve been thinking about me pegging you and then try and back out of it?” He looks down at you and tries to stop the smile creeping out across his face. “No, I am absolutely going to do this but it’s your pick Eddie.” You nod your head over to the wall. “I want you to choose.”
He rolls his eyes but turns to look again while you wind your arms around him from behind to hold him tight. You trail along behind while he wanders the store, showing you stuff over his shoulder while you nod in approval or tell him no. You keep your chin hooked on his trap so you can stay close to his neck, your breath whispering over his skin when you reply to him. Your hands wander, light fingertips bunching up his shirt a bit to drag across his hip.
He’s a little bit of a mess in this tiny store. Between you talking softly in his ear about the various toys and the gentle kisses you place on his bare skin, he’s sweating.
“Are you trying to start something?” He whispers to you when you point out the grouping of handcuffs.
“Isn’t that the point of this little errand?”
“Kind of, I just didn’t think you’d be so into this.”
“Fucking you? Eddie, that’s all I think about now.”
“Hey that’s my line.” He says that a little more breathy than he means to and watches your eyes light up. You bare your teeth, snapping playfully at him. It’s a good thing his hands are full because he wants to drag you out of the store and shove you in the backseat of his truck. Obviously you can tell he has an idea so you grab some stuff from him and gesture to the register, mischief in your eyes. “You ready?”
The plain black paper bag sits in the corner of his room taunting him while the universe actively works against him. He’d gotten called in twice and you’d had to stay late every night this week, resulting in no time for anything remotely fun. You’d only gotten as far as looping the black harness around your hips, trying to figure out what belt tightened around which leg. He’s only got fantasy fueling him through the week, the image of you turning around in the full length mirror inspecting your new accessory the fuse for all his thoughts.
It’s the end of your week, a late Sunday and he knows when you show up you’ll be tired and quiet and looking for a shower. He’s already started dinner, having gotten out of work on time himself for once, just so you don’t have to worry about it. He is however, still stuck on the bag and the items therein.
This isn’t his first time getting fucked, but it is his first time doing it with you. He hasn’t really trusted anyone like this in a long time and he’d let it slip one night, a too hot shower and your hands in his hair making him comfortable and vulnerable and he’d been just drunk enough to slur the thought out. You’d been quiet at first, fingers still sudsing through his curls and nails scratching at his scalp. He’d tried to take it back until you’d shushed him and dragged your hands down his chest, leaving one lying flat while the other wrapped confidently around his cock.
“You want me to fuck you?” Words hushed under the spray from the shower head. All he can do is nod, throat sticking when he tries to make a sound. You move your hand slowly up and down and he tilts his forehead into yours to watch, mesmerized and drunk on you and a good handful of cocktails. “Hmm?” You purr at him, raising the hand on his stomach up to tilt his head back enough so he can see your eyes. “Whatcha gotta say to that big guy?”
His laugh turns into a gasp when your hand speeds up and your fingertips dig into the side of his jaw. You’re holding him in place, watching him twitch and moan under your hands. He’s edged closer than he thought, the coil of heat springing to life low in his belly.
“I’m serious Eddie, tell me.” Your smile is dangerous, a glint of teeth under the sweetness. He grabs at your neck to steady himself and to try to bring you in for a kiss but you hold tight. Keep his head in your grasp and your lips just out of reach. “Tell me you want me to fuck you and I’ll let you kiss me.” The hand on his cock slows down. He groans long and low and his grip tightens behind your head. You squeeze around the fat head of him and he can still smell the liquor on your breath when you talk. “Tell me and I’ll let you cum.”
“Fu-ck please, god damnit.”
“Huh?” You’re being cruel and he’s lapping it up. He’s been waiting to see this mean side of you, knew it was in there somewhere.
“Please…fuck, I want you to fuck me.”
You lean in and drop the hand on his face so he can crowd you against the shower wall. The kiss is bruising, all teeth and slipping skin and you barely have to speed up your hand before he’s cumming, spilling hot over your fist. You hiss and ‘aww’ at him when he gets overstimulated but he still leans against you, knows you’ll take care of him like he does you.
He can hear movement in the hallway that pulls him out of his thoughts. Gives himself a shake to try and tamp down the memory he’s been reliving for 20 minutes. He almost ducks into his bedroom when he hears the key turn in the lock, an attempt to hide the semi that’s clear as day under his shorts. You get in first though and he greets you a little stiffly, a jerky wave from the stove where he’s still stirring curry.
“You okay?” You’ve barely put your bag down and kicked off your shoes and you’ve got worry all across your face.
“I’m fine!” He lies, still picturing the shower. You get up close to him, eyes darting between his own. You’re not mad but obviously not in the mood for anything at all probably. He knows that dead look well.
“Why don’t you take a shower? Dinner’s almost ready.” He wants you out of the kitchen so he can refocus and calm down. The last thing he needs is to be up your ass about anything. (He just wants you up his.)
You make a noncommittal sound. Give him a once over and he thinks you might spot his half hard dick but the look goes away as quick as it came.
“I’ll just be a few minutes, I promise.”
He’d heard the shower start and had to wrangle himself in, had half hoped you’d come out feeling better and maybe walk your fingers up his back. You’d yet to leave the bathroom though, an hour after he heard the water stop. He knows you’re just decompressing, staring at your phone and scrolling scrolling scrolling but also he’s out here. Worked up, unknown to you, but worked up all the same.
Eddie has somehow twisted himself into a bad mood. Dinner had been ready for a while and you’d said just a few minutes. Yet here he sat, staring at a tv screen with some video game he had no interest in tonight. Finally he hears the bathroom door open and you swan out, damp hair half dried from how long you must have been sitting on the edge of the tub.
“Have a good shower?” He asks flatly, barely giving you a side eye when you walk past into the kitchen. He’d put your plate in the microwave and had made a point to have all the dishes done so you’d maybe get how long you’d been.
“I feel a little more human, but no amount of hot water can make up for the travesty that was tonight.” You’re oblivious apparently and he just huffs, a small nod directed at the TV. “You okay?” You sit directly next to him on the couch, sympathy in the crease of your brows.
“I said I’m fine.” He had. Like an hour ago. Deep down, in the part of his brain that isn’t mad for no reason, he knows what he sounds like. Knows he’s snapping and being a little mean but he feels a certain way and can’t seem to get out of the funk of annoyance.
“I know I was in there for a while, I’m sorry.” You sound deflated. He should put his controller down and look at you and talk to you but he just keeps staring forward, unable to get his brain off its one track of ‘Horny and Angry’. He gives a half shrug and before he can unpause the game you reach a hand over and rest it on his knee. “Seriously Ed, I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” He does look at you then, feels the anger melt a little when he sees the tired look you give him. You pat his knee and eat in silence, watching him meander aimlessly around the map. You get up and wash your plate and wander back into his room, the whole time he’s screaming at himself to follow you in and apologize. He’s almost ready to toss the controller to the side when he hears you rummaging around in a paper bag.
“Hey Ed?” You call to him from inside his room.
“What?”
“Can you come in here?”
Eddie finds himself in a lot of situations with you. Most of them fun, some of them suck but this one has moved to the top of his Best of All Time list. It’d taken him a fraction of second too long to answer you and you come out of the bedroom to stand in front of him. Wordlessly lean down and kiss him, hands soft where they fall on his neck. All of his built up frustration boils to the surface and all he wants is to move you back into the bedroom. He‘s halted when you press him back, those hands on his neck a little tighter.
“What have you been up to?” You whisper against his mouth. He’s not sure how to answer, doesn’t really know what your asking. The context is missing and-
“Have you just been mean because you’re horny?” Your laugh brushes across his face.
“Mean? I made dinner.” He’s still pissed.
“And you’ve been giving me the cold shoulder since I got out of the shower.”
“No, you got out of the shower an hour ago.”
“Did you time me?” You stand straight and one hand trails up to lightly hold his jaw. You look appraisingly down your nose at him. “I said I was sorry.”
“And I just wanted you to come eat dinner.” He huffs.
“I don’t think that’s what you wanted. I looked in our goodie bag.”
“…okay.” He might know what you’re talking about now, remembers the empty box he left in there.
“Did you start without me?” The tilt of your head feels condescending and he likes that a little too much. Wants to see how far he can push it. Maybe he can make you feel guilty for making him wait.
“Like two days ago, yeah.” A smug smile stretches his lips. “I got tired of waiting.”
You ‘tsk’ at him and very suddenly the hand under his jaw isn’t so soft. It grips while your other comes to tangle in the curls at the back of his head, keeping it tilted back in place. You hover over him, just barely out of reach again and this isn’t the part of the game he enjoys, when he can’t reach your lips.
“Eddie.” Your voice is low and soft. “You told me specifically that I’d get to see you use any and all things we bought, that included that pretty little plug. So where is it?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
That makes you full on laugh in his face, breaking character for a moment. “I’m sorry Ed, are you being serious or is this-“
“Fuckin’ play along.” He murmurs through a grin.
“Are you being purposefully bratty?”
“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were the only one allowed to pout around here.” This moment of levity makes his stomach unknot. He knows you’re not mad at him, not really. Maybe a little annoyed but he can work with that. You pull his hair a little, another tug that makes his mouth fall open.
“Are you wearing it right now?”
“What? No. I was last night though.” He knows that’ll piss you off, considering you’d gone home to your own place after work instead.
“Are you fucking-“ When you straighten up you pull him with you. He stumbles and drops the controller on the floor with the sudden movement, head still trapped between your palms so he can’t quite see the floor. He’s following you to his room while a laugh builds in his chest. This is what he’s been waiting for all week, longer if he’s honest with himself. He always wants to take care of you in all the ways but recently he’s been feeling a little restless, a little frustrated.
“I like this side of you, where’s she been hiding?” He laughs when you push him down against the bed. The paper bag falls over and he notices the only thing in there is the empty box he left. He slides his eyes over to you where you stand at the foot of the bed.
“I bet you thought I was on my phone that whole time, huh?”
He doesn’t say anything, the heat of arousal blooming low, that anticipation making his stomach tense.
“I noticed when I came in, you’re so easy to read sometimes. Also, your shorts are very loose.” You head into the bathroom and he immediately rips his shirt off, very suddenly sure of where his night is headed. When you come back out he catches the purple silicon in your fist and lets out a quiet moan.
“God you are easy, aren’t you?” Your gaze wanders over him sitting up on his elbows, completely naked and staring at you wide eyed and smirking. His dick lays heavy against his stomach and there’s no hiding his excitement from you. “You know I was going to be all sweet about this and treat you like a hot house lily, but I don’t think you want that.”
He shakes his head. “No. Where’s that mean barista I fell for? She only seems to come out when I don’t do the dishes right.”
“Do you want me to just roast you about your drink all night? I can do that, easy.” You toss the strap on the bed next to him and descend on him. “Do you want me to be mean to you?” You ask between kisses on his stomach, hands roving over his sides and tracing dark ink.
“Maybe a little.” He says it shyly while looking down his chest to catch your reaction. You just tilt your head, contemplating while moving up his body. When you get to his neck, soft lips under his jaw moving up, you lick the shell of his ear and watch the shiver run down his spine.
“Tell me if you want me to stop.”
“Oh, never sweetness.” He’s all shining eyes and slowly emptying head, the weight of the harness next to his hand the only anchor he’s got to this moment. You pull away from him though, entirely too clothed and serious.
“I mean it Eddie. This is new shit, I’m not messing this up.” The finality in your voice gives him enough clarity to stop teasing for a second.
“I promise I will strawberry the fuck out of this if I don’t like it.” He holds up his hand, scouts honoring you. “Now would you please take your fucking clothes off and put the fucking harness on.”
In the time it takes you to get everything situated, you tell Eddie all about your hour in the bathroom. How you’d been planning since your lunch earlier to come home and do this. He tries to help you with the straps once but you slap his hand away and push him back on the bed.
“Hands to yourself.” Wordlessly he scoots back to the middle of the bed to watch you finish undressing. “Good boy.”
That makes his eyes roll and his cock jump. Good boy. It plays on repeat, echoing off the back of his skull while you talk about how you got it, finally understood the appeal when you’d gotten the harness on. Watched yourself run your hand up and down the purple silicon and you’d just had to try it out. “That’s why I was in there so long. Can’t let you have all the fun.”
He pauses, vision going foggy when he realizes what you’ve said. It’s not the most scandalizing thing but you were two doors away, fucking yourself with his new toy. Ignoring him and the dinner he made so you could tease him later with this information.
“It’s not quite you, you’re something else.” You say with a wink, a few steps away from the bed. You’re slow approach makes the strap bob and he watches it with baited breath and mouth watering. He’s not sure where to look anymore, every inch of you setting his thoughts on fire. If he thought you were hot before this is going to end him, the way you kneel on the bed and shimmy up his chest, the tip of your big purple dick nudging his lips. “You gonna help me out or what?”
His laugh is light but his eyes are all dark, pupils wide and lids heavy when he looks up at you. Keeps eye contact when he opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue to barely lick the tip.
“Oh come on, I know you can do better than that.” You coax him and run a hand over the top of his head, anchoring your fingers in the soft curls. “Show me what else that mouth can do.” A pull at the crown of his head to lean him forward and he catches that heavy look in your eye. It makes him sit up and tuck his elbows under his back to prop him up better so he can fully blow you. His eyes slip shut when he opens his jaw, a soft gasp from above let’s him know he’s doing it right. Good boy good boy good boy.
“Is this why you get so cocky?” Your voice is strained over the wet sound oh him sucking. “Is’hot.” You reach back to grab his cock, the soft heat heavy in your palm. His tip is slick with precum where it’s been dribbling on his stomach. “I haven’t even touched you yet and look at you.” A slow drag of your hand up to squeeze the head and he groans, mouth full and drooling. He hears you whisper under your breath, a faint ‘oh my god’ before your hand travels down further and your fingertips inch under to grab his balls. He jerks up and gags and you laugh, still gripping his hair to hold him in place. “Ed you look so pretty like this.” The pressure on his sac tightens and his brain goes off line. Eyes rolling when you keep pulling his hair and give a little thrust into his mouth. “Is this what I look like? Hmm? When I blow you?” His arms tremble with the strain but he refuses to give up, not when you’re touching him like this and teasing him like this and making all those breathy little comments above him. He bobs his head and rolls his tongue around like you could feel it, tries to swallow around the head bullying the back of his throat. He has to force his eyes open to look up at you, to see you shake your head at him and pout condescendingly. “No, I don’t think I look half as good as you.” You keep switching between rolling his balls in your palm and slowly jerking him off and he’s starting to think he’s going to cum before you ever fuck him. He taps your knee twice to get your attention and you let go of everything, making to swing your leg over when he stills you. “Are you okay?”
“I’m-“ His voice is hoarse and wet and he has to swallow a few times before he can talk. “I need you.”
“Need me to what?” Its genuine, concern still laced in your words. He’s staring up at you though, fully fucked out look on his face, pliant and loose on his bed and you know he’s okay. “Tell me Eddie. What do you need?” A soft touch pushes back his hair from his face, skin damp and hot. “What do you want?” You know it’s a hard thing to admit so you give him time. Let him run his hands up your thighs and over your stomach. He kneads your tits, pushes them together and when you grind down against the backside of the strap looking for some kind of friction he pinches a nipple to make you gasp. He keeps a hand at your chest and uses the other to pull you down for a kiss. He’s flushed and hot under you, skin tacky with a thin sheen of sweat. The groans rumbling in the back of his throat make you anxious to hear more. You want to know what he sounds like when he’s under you and lost in his own pleasure. Head empty except for your voice and your touch.
Rarely does he give up control, typically the giver with you but this is special. He’s already quieted down, smart remarks replaced with these whimpers and pants in your mouth where he holds you close to kiss you. When you pull away his eyes are shining and you make a show of shimmying down till you’re kneeling between his thighs and looking up at him.
“You want me to touch you?” You grab his cock and he nods, watches you lazily jerk him. A few licks to the underside of his head and his face scrunches up in concentration.
“Tell me.”
“Yes please.” He breaths out and you open your mouth and sink down, nose buried in the wiry hair. You keep your eyes up, watching him drop his head back against the bed. He drags his hands down his face and when you pull up, pulling his own little tongue swirl move on him he holds his fist over his mouth. You let go with a gasp.
“Absolutely not.”
He looks down his nose at you, eyes wide.
“I’m not doing all this for you to be quiet.” The smile you give him feels feral. “I wanna hear it all, Eddie. Every little sound.” You give him a final look before bowing your head to swallow him down again. You’ve rendered him speechless it would seem, until you slide a hand down and gently tug on his balls. A long groan and a hand sliding into your hair makes you smile around your mouthfull. They’re heavy in your palm, rolling them around until you can wrap your index and thumb finger around to pull down. His hips jerk and when you feel his thighs tensing you sit up, panting and laughing at his visible distress.
“Wh-“
“Under the pillow there.” You nod your head towards his side of the bed. He looks dazed for a moment before patting around and finding the bottle of lube you threw under there earlier.
“Oh you’re crafty.”
“You have no idea.”
He hands it to you and you can see him holding his breath. You let him squirm for a little while longer, let him watch you open the bottle and cover your hand in it. It drips on his stomach and cock and you watch his muscles contract, his anticipation visible everywhere.
“You gonna relax?”
“I am relaxed.” He lies. He pulls his feet up next your knees and squishes you between his own. “I’m just excited.” His own squirrelly little smile flashed at you. You’re excited too, but nervous. You’d done your own reading outside of everything you’d asked Eddie but still. This was your first time doing this and you didn’t want to hurt him.
“Tell me if anything hurts?” He nods and keeps watch of your slick hand. Watches you graze his balls again and feels your fingers graze over his ass. Elbowing his legs to give you more room and you slide a slick finger over the tight ring of muscle. His eyes slip shut and his mouth falls open on a deep, breathy laugh. He’s gripping the back of his thighs when you prod gently, tip of your index finger looking for a little give. You grab the bottle again and open it, drizzling more lube over your strap. Before Eddie can comprehend anything, you grab both cocks in your free hand and thrust.
“Oh my fucking god”
“Good?” You use that outburst to push your finger in gently. Eddie moans and tries to find his footing again when his feet start to slide on the sheets.
“If you keep doing that I’m gonna cum immediately.”
“Doing what?”
“Everything.”
“Oh good.” Another thrust of your hips and another push of your finger and it’s no time at all before you have him at your mercy. Everything is slick and sticky and you’ve managed to get two fingers in, stretching him just enough before he snaps at you.
“If you don’t fuck me right now this night is going to end very fast.” It’s a low warning, gasped down at you where you’re still jerking him and your strap off. You almost want to laugh but the sight of him flushed and wanting is making you feel crazy. When you finally let go of him and gently remove your fingers, you tap his leg to get him to look at you.
“Promise me if it hurts you’ll tell me.”
“I promise, just…please.” His eyes are giant orbs of black ringed in deep brown, blown out in lust and heat and want. Any real thoughts you might have had about being textbook over this is out the window and you just watch yourself line up against him, tip barely pushing against tense muscle before it pops in. Your inhale matches his and you both marvel at this new sensation together. The slightest movement forward and you can feel him clenching around the strap and pulling you in. It takes you a few moments of adjusting and readjusting, making sure you aren’t hurting him or moving too quickly when he snaps again.
“Would you fucking move?” He wheezes. His thighs tremble in anticipation and he’s about to bite his lip in two if you don’t move your hips.
“Hey, I’m trying to be gentle-“
“I’m fine! Just move!” He cuts you off and stares you down when you open your mouth again to argue. He’s about to suggest you lay down and he can do all the work when you suddenly sit up off your calves and push forward. No snap of your hips or quick shove into him just enough that you sink in halfway and he drops his retort. Drops his head against the pillow and drops his hands to the comforter where they grasp for something, anything to hold on to. It’s like you punched the breath right out of him and he groans, short gasps when you push forward again and finally fully seat yourself against him. All he can feel are your hands clutching at his thighs and the fullness of you finally in his ass.
“oh fuckfuckfuck.” It’s been a minute since he’s done this but he’s happy he waited for you. He’s currently busy watching stars explode behind his eyelids but he knows you’ve got that shit eating grin plastered on your face. Barely moving against him, just little thrust to get a better grip on him and his chest is heaving with breathy laughs.
“Is that what you wanted?” He does answer you, just in a strangle of words. You can see his throat bob where he’s swallowing and trying to talk and you just shush him. Run a hand up his abdomen and to his chest where you can feel his heart beating fast.
“Oh I know baby.” A gentle pat on his sternum before you drag your hand down again and grab him, cock slick with all the extra lube. “I bet that feels good, huh?”
He just whimpers at you. It’s such a sweet sound coming out of him. You’ve barely gotten into the swing of this and he’s already a wreck.
“Ed, you’re so pretty like this.” A slow drag of your hand pulls another garbled sound from deep in his throat. Another roll of your hips makes him sigh and laugh and suddenly you’re finding your rhythm. His bed rocks under you when you really start going, the whines punched out of him on every thrust fueling you.
“Does that feel better?” You coo at him and he pushes his head back further into the bed. Let’s out a deep, stuttering cry when you roll your hips back into him and angle up. He lifts his leg up momentarily, dazedly looking for a place to set his foot and you hook him under his knee. Gently pull it up close to your chest where the hair tickles your sensitive nipple. The sounds knocking out of him are pathetic and small, little whimpers and whispers of your name drawn out between a litany of fucks. He’s barely listening to you, too dick drunk to pay attention to anything else but they way you roll your hips against his.
This isn’t a fast night and you wouldn’t call this lovemaking by any stretch. He had pissed you off earlier and maybe you were making him suffer a bit but really this was for him. He’d talked this up for a few weeks and driven you to the shop and bought the toys and then you’d made him wait. Not purposefully, but nonetheless it’d been your fault you two hadn’t done this yet. Getting a little lost in thought causes you to slow for a moment too long and Eddie is whining again, lifting his hips up slightly and trying to fuck himself on your big purple dick. The glassy look in his eyes, the way his whole face is drawn downward while he bites his lip. He’s moving his hand again, up and down the length of his cock where you’d stopped your own movements. Desperate and whining and maybe this is a little for you too.
“Oh my god, look at you.”
His eyes find yours before squeezing shut, a pained expression while he rolls his body against you.
“You have no idea how hot you look.” You fuck into him with shallow thrust, obviously hitting that spot that’s making him keen. He’s grabbing onto anything he can, nails digging into your skin when he catches your arm. “This is-you’re amazing Eddie.” Your hands roam up his sides while you crowd him, leaning in and down to give him a desperate kiss. This closeness makes it hard for you to move as much but he’s still whining while his hands find your hair and your neck, holding you close.
“Please don’t fucking stop-I’m-“ his voice hitches when you obviously hit that sweet spot, eyes rolling into the back of his head.
“You close?” Whispered into his open mouth, it’s all damp air and hot breath and you’ve never been more enraptured by something.
“You gonna cum for me baby?” You’re watching artwork unravel under you. The way his skin flushes red under all that black ink, the heaving of his chest and the sounds punching out of his throat. You marvel at him lasting this long, his cock ruddy and leaking against his stomach, untouched in the last few minutes and you feel a little bad. “Oh come on Ed let me have it.” You grab the sides of his neck, fingers splayed up into his hair. His hips jump at the contact and he babbles and begs for you to keep going. “Let go for me.” The slick sound of him trapped between your bodies and the string of pleas from him fill the room and you know he’s teetering on the edge.
“Come on baby, let me hear you.”
He goes stiff for moment, neck taut under your thumbs rubbing circles. His hands pull at the back of your neck and his knees dig into your hips and the absolute cry he lets loose has you feeling some type of new way. He spills hot between you, lines shooting up to his chest and he jerks under you. Body convulsing and mouth running while he rides out his high and you slow the roll of your hips. He’s breathing like he’s run a marathon, eyes hazy and staring through the ceiling above. You give him a minute to calm down before you sit up and inspect the mess you’ve made of him.
“You okay?”
He doesn’t respond.
“Eddie.”
A grunt then, hands dropping from the back of your neck to slap against the sheets. You run a finger down his chest through the mess of cum and sweat and lube and laugh lightly.
“You have fun?” You try to shift back to pull out but he hooks his ankles behind you, keeping you close.
“Can I have a kiss?” He asks, small and unfocused. He’s still staring up at the ceiling but his eyes are a little less hazy.
“Oh of course you can.” You lean back down and cage his head in between your forearms. You give him a few gentle pecks while you card your fingertips through his hair. His breathing is coming back to a normal pace and you can feel the tremor in his legs calming down.
“Hey.” Whispered softly against his lips to try and get his attention. “Are you okay?”
“I’m…great.” He finally tears his gaze away from the ceiling to look at you. “I’m thirsty.”
“If you let me get up I can help with that.”
It’s with a lot of sighing and protest that he finally unwinds his legs and lets you pull out. He gasps and grimaces but gives you a pointed finger.
“If you ask me one more time.” He watches you untangle the harness from your legs and the mock outrage you shoot him.
“I’m concerned!”
You leave the bedroom naked to get him water and then head back to the bathroom to get a washcloth.
“I’m not going to bruise your ego if I clean you up am I?”
Eddie still hasn’t moved, legs hung over the side of the bed and arms splayed. “I don’t care.”
So you hand him the glass of water and kneel beside him, wiping up the mess you two made. He almost chokes on his water when you run the towel under his balls.
“Warn me!” He rolls away from you while you laugh and try to get anything else off of him. “Just stop, come here.” He pulls the towel out of your hand and throws it towards the bathroom, grabbing your hand and pulling you close to him. It takes some finessing to get you both under the sheets, and even more time for Eddie to finally get situated with his nose buried under your ear.
“Are you comfortable?”
“Immensely.” He sighs and winds his limbs around you, keeping you close to his overheated body. It’s quiet for a while while you trail your fingers over his skin and through his hair, soothing him into a calm state. “Thank you.”
“It was my pleasure.”
“I didn’t even get to help you.”
“I told you, I took care of that already.” You smile when you feel him still.
“I forgot about that.” You can feel his eyebrow raises against your neck.
“Don’t get any ideas.”
“I couldn’t if I wanted to, you fucked them all out of me.” There’s a giggle fit between you two before you settle down again. You work around him clung to you to plug in both your phones and to turn off the bedside light. You think he’s gotta be falling asleep with how heavy he’s leaning into you when he makes a little noise into the crook of your neck.
“What’s up?”
“I feel really stupid saying this right now, but I really want to say it. I know it’s probably some after glow bullshit but…” He trails off. Head still buried in your neck but you can feel the heat of his blush.
“What is it?” You give him a little shake and he just holds on tighter. “Seriously, you can tell me Eddie.”
“I won’t bite.”
He laughs. “I love you.”
It’s your turn to stop. With how much of him is draped over you, you know he can feel your heart beating faster but he can’t see the stupid grin spreading over your face.
“I don’t expect you to say it back or anything I just…I know it’s only been a few months but it’s how I feel and I wanted to say it.” He pauses and takes a deep breath. “Even before the sex shop.”
That makes you laugh loudly and it takes a few minutes for you to calm down enough to talk.
“Do you want me to wait until we wake up to say it?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” That smile is still there for the whole dark room to see. You settle back down against him, hand wrapped around the back of his head cradling him to you. He peppers a few kisses against your neck, lazily nuzzling before he starts to drift off. When you hear the first sounds of deep breathing you turn your head to bury your nose in his curls and whisper at him.
“I love you too.”
(Sacrifice for the readmore)
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baby trap - (vol. 1) toji fushiguro
rating: e (18+)
reader: f
summary: you were toji’s girlfriend? baby girl? sugar baby? slut? you were a lot of things to toji fushiguro. he paid for your college, fucked you in his car but also had a grasp on you like no other man.
tags: ddlg, dark themes, smut, multiple orgasms, baby trapping
a/n: remember, the ask box is open!
you were toji’s girlfriend? baby girl? sugar baby? slut? you were a lot of things to toji fushiguro. he paid for your college, fucked you in his car but also had a grasp on you like no other man.
he broke your phone once because he saw you had tinder downloaded, even though you were both never an official item. he paid, you fucked. but after that moment, he made it very clear that you were not getting with anyone else.
but the sex and a brand new phone patched up any fear you had towards him. he kissed you when he overstimulated you, kissing back the tears that were sliding down you cheeks. he bit at your nipples until they bruised and became puffy with abuse.
like lightning in a cyclone, you were two forces that only found a place with one another. it wasn’t normal, you were never going to have the perfect nuclear family life that your cousins had. you were going to be the girl of a trained killer. and he loved that you accepted that fate. as his strong arms wrapped around you like a snake, tightening when you struggled. there was no escaping him.
but he made it up with small bits of love, rough sex and money. he’ll happily slip tens of thousands of yen between your pretty glossed lips if it meant you’ll be a good girl. beg, shake, wag your tail, that kind of stuff.
you were both at your local love hotel about half an hour west of your dorm. toji had been a bit more clingy this evening as he picked you up. it was unusual for him. usually he had his big hand on your bare thigh as he drove, but this time he was kissing you with chapped lips against your temple and jaw as he stopped at red lights.
“what’s gotten into you?” you had asked as you chuckled at his affection. he went in for a kiss on the lips and you melted.
“aw nothing, angel. just let daddy show you some love.”
“i thought love wasn’t your thing.” you remarked.
“well, two months apart changes things.” he smirked against your warmed skin. he swore he could feel the pinpricks in the condom in his pocket. he just hoped you wouldn’t notice.
toji’s had enough of this childish shit. apparently breaking your old phone wasn’t enough to keep you loyal. he found texts between you and another guy on your phone when you were in the shower one time. he knew you were a bit of an airhead, you don’t listen.
but maybe a little bit of change will fix that. it’ll take a few months, but girls your age usually had children by now. right? the light changed and he continued to drive until you got to the hotel. now at the hotel, you went into the washroom to wipe off your make up and toji lounged on the bed.
he was nude by the time you exited the bathroom. you got naked as well, casual between the two of you. he was rather use to your nude form. as you moved around the room with not a single stitch on, toji’s mind wandered to changes your body will do in the coming months. it made his cock twitch. pervert.
“come. sit.’ he said as he sat up, “i want you honey. lie back, let daddy take care of you.” his gaze followed you as you sat on the bed and spread your legs. he pushed you down fully on your back and he got between your legs. legs over his shoulders as he spread your pussy lips with his fingers and started to lick like a hungry man.
you let out a small gasp as you felt him slip two fingers inside of you, ravishing your pussy like he heard the word from god to do it. his hard cock pressed against the mattress
“toji!” you gasped as your back arched but then he used his hand to hold you down while he continued to pleasure you with his tongue and other hand.
“yea keep it easy, baby girl. daddy’s got you.” he purred before he assaulted your clit with his tongue and his canine teeth which made your legs kick out but he kept you against the bed, “what did i say?” his voice lower and deadlier.
“sorry, sir.” you whimpered as you held onto his head, feeling his soft strands of dark hair under your fingertips.
“good girl, just let daddy take care of you. i’ll always take care of you.” he growled between your legs. his assault continued, unrelenting as he devoured your clit and fingered you until your moans got caught in your throat.
you clung onto the mattress as you felt the washes of orgasm over you. your cheeks felt heated, your pussy felt slick. even sweat dampened your hairline from the heat in the room.
toji knew what he was doing. you weren’t the first baby girl he had, but you’d the last. the first to move on to baby mama title. don’t worry, he’ll take good care of his family. just don’t expect your first child to be your last, okay?
he couldn’t imagine a life without you. even without the money, he just wanted to have you at all times. his pace was brutal, he could feel your wetness on his tongue as he continued. he knew his little slutty baby girl loved when it was rough, that was the only way you could get off. it toji tried to be like those limp-dick boys from your university, you’d never cum.
he exhaled deeply against your clit, his own breathing became heavy with lust as he rubbed his hard cock against the bedsheets. soon your thighs were pressed around his head as you felt closer to orgasm. he enjoyed your loud moans and continued work on you.
with another loud moan you came on his tongue. he felt you tense up around him as you finished on his mouth. your wetness glistened his lips and chin, highlighting his scar as he pulled his head away and looked up at you.
“enjoy that angel?” he asked.
you nodded softly, “yes daddy.” but had little time to say much else before he was rolling you onto your stomach with your hips lifted. you heard him rustle with the condom while made you wetter.
little did you know.
“how do you feel, angel?” he asked as he rubbed your ass after he got the hole filled condom on. he was glad you couldn’t see the glee on his face in that moment.
“i feel good, daddy.”
“good.”
next chapter of your lives was about to begin. don’t worry your little head about it, daddy will take care of you. he dragged his thumb down your clit and watched your shiver before he grabbed his cock and pushed into you. he watched your back arch in pleasure.
oh did toji love you, or at least his version of love. something that had been twisted by time. he wanted every inch of you, he’d do whatever to keep you. even if it meant you having his brats. don’t worry you’ll look cute nursing one, chasing another and pregnant with a third. toji will take care of everything because daddy takes care of everything.
he started to fuck into you, his hands on your hips but soon his hand was in your hair to get better leverage to go deeper and deeper into you, his balls hitting your ass as he fucked himself into you. the condom providing little protection for you.
he knew there was a good chance you weren’t going to get pregnant, but he’ll just have to keep trying and trying until it worked. he could hear your pants and moans, the pathetic attempts to call him daddy. you were his good girl, the innocent little angel he spoiled and cursed to damnation. y
you moved with his thrusts, pushed forward then pulled back. in a repeated, rapid cycle as he fucked you. he fucked with intensity.
“that’s it. that’s my girl.” he watched your ass jiggle a he moved against you, his cock was as deep as it could go. he slapped your cheeks and his cock twitched in you as you moaned from the slap.
he picked up speed, his breathing became rapid the muscles of his abdomen clenched as he felt closer to orgasm. but you beat him to it as he watched you practically scream into the bed as orgasm washed over you. your pussy clenched around his cock as he practically had you bouncing on it.
“daddy! daddy!” you gasped, almost pleading as he bullied his cock into you. you were the perfect cock sleeve for him. he was definitely going to get you pregnant. you were going to be his for the rest of your days. he wasn’t letting you go, he wasn’t letting go of a pussy like that.
filling out with pregnancy would only be the cherry on top of it all. he leaned over you and bit at your ear as he kept your head into the covers. his hips moving quickly and coordinated to hit your sweet spot often. he wanted to make sure you never forgot who owned your sweet sex.
you were practically a rag doll against him as he whispered hot nothings into your ear as his hips pushed against your soft ass. his cock reached areas that you never thought were possible.
“that’s it angel. that’s it. you are mine, got that. you are nothing without me, you are my good girl. my baby girl, my stupid whore that i have to show the way of the world to. you’re mine, got it? i want you to say it.”
you moaned loudly, “i’m yours daddy, i’m only yours. i don’t want any other man! please, please have me forever!!!” before your eyes rolled back as a second orgasm followed.
you tightened around him once more and he bit back a hard groan as he continued to fuck the living daylights out of you. his breathing was ragged, her felt sweat drip down his hot back in this warm room. two figures fucking on a rented bed, one with the intention of impregnating the other.
he held you by the back of your neck and lifted his leg up to get a better angle to pivot inside of you. your screams were muffled by the covers. he could feel your shivers as you laid under him. he knew your brain was blanking out right now, but that was how he wanted his little wife.
“that’s it baby girl.” he purred, “remember, daddy owns you. lock and key until the day we die.”
“yes, daddy.” you said breathlessly. the corners of his mouth curled upwards as he could tell that your brain was totally blank. there wasn’t a single thought in your head right now that had nothing to do with daddy’s hard cock pounding away inside of you.
“that’s what i want to hear. good girl.” he said in a low tone as his thrusts remained brutal against you. he knew your body would be bruised with your insides painted white. all by his hand.
his tongue glided across his top lip, touching the scar as he continued to move against you. the bed moved a bit more against the wall, making a good acquaintance with the white wall.
your eyes rolled back a little bit as he hit a nerve deep inside of you. he gripped onto you, and you moaned into the bed. it wasn’t long before both you and him came together. his voice low and rugged, while yours hit a higher pitch. but muffled by the soft pillows he kept you pinned to.
soon he pulled out of you, and saw a small string of cum that connected his flushed tip with your entrance. he smirked to himself and wiped away the string. pleased with himself. he threw out the holey condom into the near by waste bin. you trusted him, you won’t check if there were any holes.
you rolled onto your stomach and made a small whining noise for his attention. he went to tend to your needs, scooping you up into his arms and kissing the bridge of your noise.
“with me, angel?” he said softly. the warmth in his chest, pride of finally laying the groundwork to keep you by his side forever. baby trapping felt like a bad word, he was just putting you on the right path. and he couldn’t wait till it came to light.
soon you were whispering in his ear, asking for him to go again. toji couldn’t say no to his baby girl. after all he had a whole pack of condoms with holes in them to use before the lube dried out.
“of course, anything for you.” anything for you, mama.
#dilf toji#toji fushiguro#toji smut#toji x reader#toji imagine#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jjk x you#yandere jjba#jjk#jujutsu toji#fushiguro toji x reader#fushiguro toji#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jujustu kaisen#jujustu kaisen smut
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Okay it’s a sad request but you know the slashers reacting to s/o being hurt? Can you do a slashers reaction to s/o thought to be killed by one of their victims. Only if you are comfortable with it of course!
A/N: Thank you so much for the request! Some of these might be a little out of character, so I apologize, but I hope you like it! 🖤
Slashers if Their S/O Was Badly Injured
Slashers Included: Thomas Hewitt, Billy Loomis, Stu Macher, Asa Emory, Michael Meyers, Sinclair Brothers
TW: VIOLENCE AND DEATH
Thomas Hewitt:
When Hoyt and Thomas brought home a group of teenagers going through Texas, one of the men got free and ran into the kitchen where you and Luda Mae were preparing dinner. He stole a knife from Luda, shoving her to the ground where she hit her head and it left you, held at knifepoint. You tried to lunge at him, but the knife entered your stomach, twisting and gnashing at your skin and muscle.
Hoyt finally came in, shooting the man who held the knife. You collapsed with him, blood pouring from your wound onto the tile and soaking into your clothes.
Thomas shoved Hoyt aside, hands trembling and eyes already welling with tears. His chest felt like a black hole as he watched you grow more pale by the second. With shaking hands he rolled you over, placing your head in his lap. He reached down to put pressure on the wound, unable to stifle his cries as he watched blood gush from between his fingers.
You started to cough and sputter, blood leaking from the side of your lips as he leaned down, unclipping his mask. His pressed gentle kisses to your eyelids as they grew heavier, holding you in his lap as he watched you fade away.
Billy Loomis:
You’d been at Stu’s party, but you weren’t supposed to be part of the plan. Billy walked around the house, making sure that everyone was dealt with before going to find Sydney. He stopped in his tracks when one body looked familiar.
He dropped to his knees, knife clattering away from him as he touched your shoulders gently. He whispered your name, watching as you bled onto the floor. You could barely breathe, slowly taking in wheezy breaths.
“Billy?” You whispered in horror, realizing that he’d been the one involved with your death. Billy’s jaw tensed as he leaned closer to you.
“I’m sorry. You weren’t supposed to be here.” He whispered, placing his hand gently on your cheek for a moment before he stood, retrieving his knife.
Stu Macher:
Stu had let you in on his and Billy’s plan, and when Billy agreed to let you help, he was ecstatic.
But on the night of, everything went wrong. It was the time to give each other injuries, and you stood there, holding the knife nervously, hesitant to stab Billy. You moved forward and plunged the knife into him, but at the last second you closed your eyes, accidentally stabbing him too deep. Billy fumed, growling at you to give him the knife.
When it was your turn, you’d wanted Stu to do it, but Billy insisted. He shoved the knife into your stomach, not even trying to hide the fact he has bad intentions.
Stu yelled, shoving Billy away from you and hanging onto you as you fell to the ground. He apologized profusely for getting you involved, crying as he moved your hair gently out of your face, holding you as you closer your eyes even though Billy yelled at him to get up.
Asa Emory:
You’d probably be in the house of traps when someone got free from the red box. They snuck into the room that you occupied, at first thinking you were a victim. You played along until you tried to maneuver them towards another trap, and instead, they shoved you into it.
You fell onto the ground right on top of a two by two foot mat full of nails. They stabbed through your chest, and you screamed in pain, trying to push yourself up off the nails but the pain was too intense.
Asa heard you and immediately knew where you were, maneuvering through his house to get to you. The victim was long gone by now, leaving you and Asa in silence. He was full of rage, eyes twinkling with anger and sadness. There was nothing he could do now, except for take it out on the rest of the victims inside the house.
Michael Meyers:
You hadn’t seen Michael for a while, and it was making you nervous. He usually came by your house daily, but it’d been almost a week. You went by the Meyers house at night, slinking inside to try to find Michael.
A searing pain radiated through your back, and as you slowly turned around you saw Michael’s eyes through his mask, wide and could tell how heavy he was breathing. You looked back and saw his signature knife protruding from your back, warm blood soaking into your jeans. You fell forward, coughing as you felt your chest starting to tighten.
Michael looked down at you before kneeling, a large hand touching the top of your back softly. He didn’t know what to do. He leaned down and looked at you in the eyes, watching them go still. His grip tightened on your shirt. He didn’t know how to process the fact that he’d hurt the only person he’d actually cared about.
Sinclair Brothers:
A stray survivor escaped Bo’s basement, spotting you. They were so on guard they didn’t even bother to talk to you, instead, they grabbed a wrench from Bo’s work bench and hit you across the face, making you fall to the ground immediately.
You had no idea what happened next, but all three Sinclair brothers surrounded you, kneeling. Bo grabbed your face gently, inspecting your wound when Lester said something to him, sounding panicked. Your ears were ringing and your vision was blurry. Bo couldn’t panic. He had to be calm, but Lester started to shake at seeing you bleeding.
Your cheek and upper eye socket was cut open, a sizeable gash leaking blood down your face and neck. Your entire face felt like it was on fire and your vision was shaking, it felt like you couldn’t think straight.
Vincent leaned down closer to your face, inspecting the wound gently, knowing that it was pretty severe. With shaky hands he held your cheeks, wiping some blood away from your eye gently.
“Don’t worry, Darlin…we’ll get you all patched up.” Bo whispered.
#slasher x reader#slashers#horror movies#horror fanfiction#slasher x y/n#house of wax fanfiction#bo sinclair fanfiction#lester sinclair#bo sinclair x reader#ghostface#billy loomis#billy loomis x reader#stu macher x reader#stu macher#thomas hewitt x reader#asa emory#michael meyers
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Lovers Rock | Eddie Munson x Chubby! Reader
Summary: Eddie really likes reader, reader really likes Eddie, will they, won’t they? Loosely based on the TV Girl song, brief misunderstandings, brief mentions of masturbation, suggestive undertones. (Had this in the drafts for a while.)
Eddie had never felt more jealous of Steve than he did right now.
He had you, a cute, chunky little bunny practically hanging off of his arm and couldn’t be asked to give you a shred of attention?
Not that you seem particularly bothered, you’re too busy looking around. For what, he doesn’t know, but you somehow make just standing there sexy.
Eddie had been in love with you for as long as he could remember. He’s always had a thing for plump girls and you ticked all his boxes. You liked DnD, you didn’t judge his music taste even if some weren’t your favorite. And you were hot as fuck.
He remembers the first time he jacked off to the thought of you. He couldn’t look you in the eye for a week, and it didn’t help that for the past few months, you seemed to have put more of an effort in your appearance. (i.e. Eddie’s never seen you show so much skin and he’s fighting the urge to paint every inch in his cum.)
Nevertheless, he makes his way over to you both and he feels his heart skip when your eyes light up at the sight of him. “Hey, Munson.” You beam at him, and just like that, you made coming to this shitty party worthwhile. He smirks at you before pulling you into a hug, lips kissing your ear as he whispers, “Good to see you again, princess.” You feel a shiver run down your spine, his words making their way to your core. You’d had a few drinks and shared a joint with Steve on your way here so you were feeling nice and loose.
You shift your grip from Steve’s arm to Eddie’s, effectively trapping him in your ironclad grip. “Wanna get outta here, this shit sucks.” You mutter into his ear. “What about Steve?” You shrug off his concerns, eager to spend time alone with him. “We got a ride here, plus he said he might stay tonight.” Eddie nods in understanding before guiding you both out of the party. You make it to his van and after a few tries, you’re both out of there.
— —
Eddie put on his and your favorite mix, you both screaming lyrics at the top of your lungs. After a while, Eddie stops and just stares at you though, taking you in. It’s rare he gets to see you so carefree and the sight just makes him fall in love with you all the more.
Why did you have to be into Steve?
He’d never burden you with his feelings, but fuck there were some times it became too much to bear. Times he wanted to just say “fuck it” and tell you how he felt, but he knew it wouldn’t be fair to you, and that he’d rather suffer in silence than never have you at all.
You were stuck though.
Steve swore up and down that Eddie was into you and honestly, you thought so too. It was why you had put so much more effort into your appearance. Wearing shorter skirts, lower cut tops. Jeans that hugged the curve of your ass, blouses that showed the cute pudge of your tummy. You thought you were being flirty, always asking to listen to his music, touching his arm at any given chance, you were honestly doing your best here. You figured that this would be your best opportunity to just be upfront with him. So when you pulled into his uncle’s trailer park, you decided to lay it all out.
“Eddie, do you like me?” He looks at you confused as he turns off the engine. “What kind of question is that? Of course I like you. You’re one of my closest friends.” He looks at you with sincerity. You’d think it was sweet if that was what you wanted to hear. “Why are you asking that?” Eddie questions. You shake your head, turning in your seat to face him. “It’s just, I like you a lot Eddie and Steve said you might have a crush on me? I don’t know, maybe he was mistaken-” You’re cut off by Eddie abruptly grabbing your hands, his face almost surprised. “I did- I do! I just, I thought you were into Steve so…” He trails off at the sound of your chuckling. He feels his stomach drop at the sound and is about to pull away when he feels you holding on to him.
“Sorry,” You giggle, wiping a fake tear from your eye at the thought. “It’s just, what ever gave you that idea?” You ask. He looks sheepish as he relays his reasoning, “Well I noticed you kind of started dressing up more recently and you hang around us a lot more often than before. So I just thought…” He trails off again. You feel a snicker but hold back as you hear Eddie sigh in frustration. “Sorry for laughing, it’s just, I thought I was being super obvious with my feelings for you, but now I see it was having the opposite effect.” You sigh. Eddie looks at you, confusion written all over his face. “I was doing all of that for you. I was hoping that it’d push you to ask me out, but instead it just made you think I want… Steve.” You shudder in disgust. It coaxes a laugh out of Eddie and you’re sure you’d do anything to keep that smile on his face.
“So you’re saying, you’re into me?” He asks for clarification. You nod, a sweet smile making its way to your chubby cheeks. “And you’re into me?” You mimic. He nods before cupping your face with both hands. He looks you in the eyes, a silent question and you answer by leaning in, pressing your plump lips against his. It’s a sweet, clumsy first kiss, lips molding into each other. You feel the coldness of his rings against your warm cheeks and it somehow makes the kiss feel even better.
You part after the need for air becomes necessary, resting your foreheads against each other. “Thank God we sorted that out. I thought I’d have to walk around in nothing but a Hellfire club shirt before you’d say anything.” You chuckle at the thought. But Eddie starts to picture it and he’s not laughing.
“Hey, um, d’ya think I could see that right now?”
#x chubby reader#chubby reader#eddie munson x chubby reader#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x black!reader#x black reader#stranger things x chubby reader#stranger things x reader#x reader#stranger things x black!reader
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hi queenie, love of my life 😌 i’d like to ask the following for 🩵: d’you think there was ever a moment where joel really thought holy shit. she drives me insane… i gotta fuck her. ???
(rly hoping there was 😌)
ily, sister! thanks for the gif. feeling really. normal. about him. right now. oh, yeah. he had his moments. let's get into it.
compensation 1.1k words | duckie's baby shower 🩵
warnings: literally just joel masturbating to the thought of his neighbor. good shit.
she can’t have been older than twenty-five, when she moved in.
hell, she’s not even thirty yet, as it is. she’s too fucking –
you’re too fucking young for him, and that’s the end of that.
at least – that’s what joel’s telling himself, trapped on your front porch. watching you relive the story of the ups driver who almost wouldn't let you sign for his package.
doing his best to keep his eyes on yours, and not the thin tank top you’re wearing.
“…she’s like, how do i know you’re gonna get this to him? i’m like, uh, what the fuck do i want with my boring ass neighbor’s mail? no offense, joel. but c’mon. i’m literally signing for it. anyways.”
you turn, bending down for the box by the stairs, and joel drags his eyes upwards.
his hand shakes at his side. jaw ticks, watching you turn back, the package leaning against your front. your breasts – oh, jesus.
he swallows. his throat feels like carpet burn.
“’s heavy,” you mutter, edging towards him. “rock collecting?”
“mind your business,” joel clips, slipping his hands around the box. the back of his wrists brush against the swell of your breasts, and he stares so intensely at his own address on the label that he hopes it’s burned forever into his vision.
you huff as the weight passes into his hands. a little sigh.
something twitches beneath his belt buckle.
joel sits the box on his hip. “well, thanks for this. and for calling me boring.”
you cross your arms. it only pushes your tits up more. “stay humble, old man.”
he should walk away. right now. he should take his package, and his pride, and the fucking rock in his jeans – and head on home.
but then you slump against the doorpost, one ankle crossing over the other, and say, “s’posed to get pretty hot this summer.”
“’s already pretty hot.”
“hotter, jackass. they’re sayin’ record temperatures.”
“they say that every year.”
you poke at the inside of your cheek with your tongue. the way you always do, when you’re trying to annoy him.
and it’s working.
“actually, uh –” joel shifts between feet, “– i was gonna ask you a favor.”
“mhm?”
his gaze trickles down your figure. each curve and swell of supple skin. the shorts he’s getting a little too used to seeing you in, too used to looking for. your bare legs, and the glow of sun on them.
when he looks back up, you’re smirking at him.
christ, he wants to wipe that smirk clean off your face. wants to twist it into something darker, something…something louder, and filthier, and –
“joel. hellooo?”
you wave your hand in front of his face, and he snaps back.
“huh? oh, shit. sorry – i, uh…” a flush rises like an inferno up his neck. he shakes his head, fighting it off. “yeah. a favor.”
“you good? don’t pass out on my porch,” you warn. “wait until you’re back on your own land to do that.”
he breathes a laugh – panting, almost. “i’m good. i just – i need someone to water my, uh – my plants. i’m outta town next week, visitin’ my brother. if you wouldn’t mind…”
he feels like a fucking moron when he finally meets your eye again.
you blink back at him, frowning. head tipped, looking him up and down. “i don’t mind,” you say, something cautious in your voice, “but i expect generous compensation for my time.”
“compensation,” joel agrees, nodding. he’d do anything to be off this goddamn porch right now. “how about i’ll owe you one?”
“works for me.”
“alright. thank you, again,” he holds the package up, “and, uh – i’ll see ya.”
he’s gone before he hears your response.
too young. she’s too young. you’re so young. goddamn it.
you drive him fucking insane. you and your little shorts, the simper on your face. he swears he could see through the white of your top, two perfect circles where –
oh, fuck.
he spills into his bathroom, a heavy hand slamming down on the valve. the water roars from the showerhead, louder than the blood in his ears.
joel hauls his tee over his shoulders, the fabric peeling from his muscles and crumpling in a damp pile on the floor. he shucks the rest of his clothes off, kicking them to the side, and steps straight into the cubicle.
he looks down, and – fucking hell.
his cock sways between his legs, all rosy and already dripping. he can feel his pulse hammering at his tip; hisses when the stream sprays over it.
his hand lifts, curving around air.
shit, he just wants to touch himself. wants to relieve the ache between his hips. he has to.
he balls his fists against the tiled wall. his head drops low between his shoulders. the water pours down over him, pastes his dark hair in soaking flicks around his face. he can taste the salt of sweat and sun as it slips from his skin.
once. if he only did it once, would it matter? he’s hard now, anyways. there’s a quick fix.
you just – you caught him off-guard. he only went over there to pick up a package. he didn’t fucking know you’d be – oh, christ – he didn’t know you’d be in that shirt. no bra, no nothing beneath it.
he can still feel the plush of your tits on his knuckles. the way they moved as you leant against the doorframe. he can still see the summery shine on your skin.
he thinks about slipping his hands under the hem of your tank. up, up, up, across your smooth skin until he’s cupping them. squeezing them; circling his thumbs over the hardening peaks.
the short breaths from your lips, your smirk melted into a delicate o-shape. voiceless, nothing but whimpering and gasping when his teeth take your nipple.
before he even realizes it – he’s stroking his cock.
and quickly.
he groans, lips turning to his bicep. he bites down on the skin, hard.
he’d slip your shorts down your hips; see whatever slutty little panties you wear. he’d pull your thighs over his shoulders, unfold your sweet cunt and –
“shit,” joel pants, hips stuttering. his fingers splay out on the slippery tile.
you’re so infuriating. loudmouthed and fucking bratty. and he could shut you up, he knows he could. he’d sit you on his cock, wrapped perfectly around him, and fuck you dumb. fuck you until you’re nothing but a sobbing, soaking mess.
fuck you with that scrap of a tank top on. tits bouncing beneath it, the fabric riding higher and higher until they’re exposed.
what a good fuckin’ girl, taking all of him. letting him split you open, letting him fuck you raw. so big he’ll leave an ache deep inside you; so hard that he makes you come three times over before he’s even close.
but – fuck, he’s close, right now.
“c’mon, baby,” he mutters into his skin. teeth gritted; fist so tight the skin threatens to split across his knuckles. “make me come, c’mon.”
it’d dribble from your cunt, and he’d push it straight back in. make damn sure you keep it all in there, make damn sure you’re walking around all full of him. the seam of your thighs slick, semen seeping into your panties.
“goddamn,” he groans, and with a throb, coats the shower wall.
his cock twitches, pulses until he’s empty. the ache begins to thaw.
he shuts the shower off, still massaging his softening dick as he steps back out. he lifts a towel and drags it across his tingling body.
and he swears, when he notices the sun dipping below your roof –
it will never happen again.
#another “short” one from me :) will i ever stop rambling about this man's dick#duckie's baby shower#🩵#mrsmando
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good kitty
pairing: minho x fem!reader
genre: smut, established relationship.
content: 18+ minors dni. warnings below cut.
word count: 2.5k
summary: you join minho for a session in your home gym.
afab!reader. pet names. frequent profanity. possessiveness. unprotected intercourse [grinding, spit kink, messy.]
“Keep your wrist straight,” he says again, demonstrating a firm punch into the boxing bag. “If it’s bent you could hurt yourself.”
“I know, I know. It’s hard,” you whine. He turns to you, holding his palms up in front of him.
“Go on,” he urges, encouraging you to try hitting him. You look down at your fist, checking if your thumb is positioned properly, then you hit him. He smiles. “Harder.” You hit him again. “Don’t hold back,” he says. You reposition your legs, preparing to put your weight into it this time. “Good,” he says. “Turn your body as you swing and don’t pull your arm back behind you.”
You swing, the sound of your skin contacting his palm much louder this time. He drops his hand, shaking it out a little—a big grin revealing his teeth. “That’s it,” he says, taking a quick step towards you and lifting you into his arms. You giggle as your feet lift off the ground, totally at his mercy as he carries you across the small makeshift gym he’d set up in the spare room. He presses your back against the floor length mirror, hands moving to hold you up by your thighs—his chest against yours.
“Is your hand okay?” you whisper, brushing a little of his hair behind his ear.
He smiles, nose scrunching a little. “I’ll live. Thank you for asking,” he says, squeezing your thigh a little. “Would you like to help me? Need to get in a few sit ups before we quit.”
You nod, unable to resist pecking the tip of his nose quickly as he lowers you to the ground. You follow him to the thick mat on the floor, pressing your hands to his slippers to ground him as he begins. He starts with a small smile on his face each time he sits up, every 5 or so he’d even press a kiss to your lips. When he stops smiling all together, brows furrowed in concentration, you know he’s wearing out. He’d always end his workout by doing something like sit ups to exhaustion. He liked feeling like he’d done his absolute best. Your eyes drop to his thighs as he grunts, starting to struggle. His bent knees cause his black shorts to fall closer to his crotch, more of his thick thighs exposed.
When he falls back against the mat, totally spent, you lift your hands from his slippers and lower your head between his legs—pressing a firm kiss to his inner thigh. His panting breaths are the only sounds in the room for the next few minutes as you continue your task, his skin a little salty from sweat.
His hand brushing against your hair finally pulls your attention to his face. “C’mere,” he mumbles, dropping his head back to the mat. You push his knees apart a little further so you can crawl up his body, laying yourself down against him.
He hums then pushes his thighs against your sides, holding you tightly. You know you’re trapped now, happily so. “What are you so sweet for? Hm?” he murmurs, lifting your head from his chest and pushing the hair from your face. “Makes me want to ruin you.”
You laugh, tracing your finger over his brow bone. “So tough… how are you going to ruin me after wearing yourself out, kitty cat?” you tease, the nickname always successfully stirring him up. He frowns, then lifts his legs off the mat completely, wrapping them around you.
“I could do a three hour workout and still throw you around,” he says, voice raised slightly. You grin, successful at drawing out a hint of his dramatics. You peck his lips, a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth hinting at a withheld smile.
“Really, kitty? I think you’re exhausted,” you tease. “It doesn’t matter though. I can still use you.”
You watch him struggle to keep his curiosity at bay, mouth opening and closing a few times as he resists asking the question he eventually can’t hold back. “Use me?”
“Mm… use your pretty body to make myself feel good. You could just lie there under me,” you say, running your fingers down his nose and over his plush lips. His adam's apple bobs in his throat as he swallows, thighs loosening their grip around you. You lower your lips to his, halting just before they touch—ghosting over his mouth as you drop your voice to a whisper. “Can I use you, kitty?”
He lifts his head off the mat, pressing his mouth firmly to yours before you can pull back. His thighs tighten around you when you attempt to pull away, arms joining them in trapping you against him. You indulge him for a moment, letting him take what he needs from you, pulling your bottom lip between his. When he attempts to roll you over, you stop him. “Answer me,” you say, reminding him of your request. His eyes are fixed on your lips as he nods. Satisfied, you attempt to sit up. He doesn’t loosen the grip his thighs have on you. “Min,” you sigh, “Let go.”
He pouts, legs dropping flat against the mat as he releases you. He props himself up on his elbows as you stand, watching you. “Do you know what I’m going to do first?” you ask, pulling your t-shirt up over your head. He doesn’t answer, eyes fixed on the mirror behind you as you bend to lower your shorts. You want to laugh, but his expression as he watches your ass in the mirror isn’t something you want to lose just yet. His lips are slightly parted, teeth peaking through as his hand absentmindedly moves to adjust himself in his shorts.
His eyes snap back to yours when you call his name. “Hm?” he asks, as if he’s just been asked a question in class and been caught completely zoned out. You smile, lowering yourself over one of his thighs—your underwear the only thing separating your skin. His eyes drop to your chest.
“Take it off,” he says.
“Why?” you ask, acting dumb. It was fun to make him work for it.
He attempts to sit up properly and you push him back down. A gentle press to his chest is all it takes. “So I can see your tits, obviously,” he mumbles. You cup your breasts in your palms, the thin lacy thing covering them something you’d had to settle for after failing to find your sports bra.
“Why do you want to see them?”
He rolls his eyes, dropping his head back to the mat—a low groan rumbling from his throat. “Tell me or you can’t see them,” you say, smiling to yourself while his eyes are closed.
He lifts himself back onto his elbows. “Because they’re fucking mine,” he grumbles.
“Oh, are they?”
“You know they are. Mine to fuck, mine to suck on whenever I fucking want.”
“You’re right, kitty, that was our deal.” You smile, taking one of his hands and pulling him up—placing his palm over one of your breasts. “These are yours,” you confirm. When he squeezes you in his palm, a satisfied expression on his face, you roll your hips—your clothed cunt sliding up his bare thigh. “and these thighs are mine,” you continue. You place your hand at the back of his neck, giving you the leverage you need to move your hips against him. “Mine to kiss…. Mine to fuck,” you finish before pulling his mouth to yours. One of his hands moves to your lower back, helping you rock against him as he kisses you.
He reaches behind you to unhook your bra, pulling it off you as you’re distracted by his lips. You don’t stop rolling your hips, the friction of the cotton adding to the stimulation—working you up embarrassingly fast. You have to drop your face to his shoulder as your high approaches and his hands move to your hips so he can grind you against his thigh himself.
“Come on, baby. Let go,” he encourages sweetly. “Get yourself all wet for me, hm? Cream on my fucking thigh.”
When you come you instinctively attempt to lift your sensitive cunt off him, your muscles seizing as you grab handfuls of his t-shirt. He doesn’t let you, holding you down against him firmly—drawing out your high until your limp against him, one final twitch signalling your end. He pulls your hair over your shoulder, pressing a kiss to your neck and then lowering you onto the mat. You’re completely limp as he pulls your underwear down your legs. His finger swiping through your sensitive folds draws a whine from your throat.
“You done already?” he taunts, playing with you. “You’re all slippery, baby.”
You suck in a deep breath, gathering your strength before pulling yourself up onto your elbows. He’s kneeling between your legs and you look up just in time to see him slip his index finger between his lips, cleaning you off him.
“Min?”
He looks down at you, then smiles—pushing himself up his feet. You watch as he undresses, your heart racing as he reveals a little more of himself. When the silver band on his ring finger is the only thing remaining on his body, he drops down onto the mat.
“There,” he says, “now you can use me properly.” He smiles, pulling you up towards him and turning you so he can take your place—lowering himself back onto the mat. You hover over him, one of your knees on either side of his thick thigh. You’re almost scared to lower yourself onto him again, a steady throbbing between your legs hinting at your sensitivity. He’s quiet as you gather yourself, one of his thumbs stroking slowly over your skin where he holds your hand.
You hold your breath as you lower yourself, closing your eyes tightly as your wet cunt presses to his thigh. “Fuck,” he mutters, hand tightening in yours. “Hot little cunt.”
You roll your hips tentatively, eyes dropping to where he strokes his cock slowly—thumb brushing over his tip occasionally to spread his precum down the head. It was your second favourite part of his body, if you had to pick. Thick and curved up just a little, the perfect tool to fuck you with—his thighs allowing him to drill it into you wherever you wanted him. This room was one of your favourites. He’d taken you up against the mirror the day before, thighs flexing as he fucked up into you.
You halt your movements against him, your thoughts pushing you dangerously close to the edge. Not yet, you tell yourself—sucking in a deep breath. He attempts to keep his thighs flexed as you use him, warm and firm for you to grind against. It’s not just the feeling of him under you that gets you so worked up, it’s the thoughts that flash through your mind. It’s the previous time’s he’s fucked you, but it’s also the time’s he’s sickly sweet. The contrast of him under you like this, grinding your dripping cunt against him, compared to the times where he’d sweetly whispered how much he loved you—ears tinged red. It’s the thought of him shy and sweet that makes you nearly lose control.
He looks up at you with hooded eyes, plush upper lip swollen from your kisses. “God, kitty…” you breathe out, hips rolling again. “You’re so pretty.” His brows pull together, hips rising off the mat a little as his hand pauses around his cock. You can’t help laughing at the pained expression on his face.
You lift off his thigh, take his hand from his cock and move it to your bare breast. His tongue comes out to trace over his lip as you adjust yourself over his torso, reaching down to press his cock against his stomach so you can give it the same treatment you gave his thighs. “Bab—” he starts, cutting himself off as your dripping cunt presses to his cock. His hand moves from your breast to tangle in his hair, fingers closing to grasp a handful. You watch him tug at his own scalp as you move slowly up to his tip, the length of him gliding easily through your slippery folds.
“You said I could use you, kitty,” you remind him, voice breathy. “Want to use your fat cock. Please?” you ask sweetly.
He pulls his hand from his hair, gripping your hips at either side. “Yeah, baby,” he breathes. “Use my cock. Grind your little pussy on it.”
You lift one of his hands to your lips, kissing his knuckles softly. “Good, kitty,” you whisper, dropping him again so you can plant your palms on his chest.
His eyes make a path between where your cunt rocks against him and your eyes, trailing up and down your body as he sucks in shallow breaths. You’re trying to decide whether you want to let go, cum against him once more, when he catches you off guard—sitting up and flipping you onto your back. You don’t fight him, letting him take his turn.
“Gotta have you,” he mutters, rubbing his tip through your folds.
When he lowers himself over you, thick cock stretching you open, you roll your head to the side—catching the way his thighs flex as he pushes into you. You whine, reaching up to take ahold of him—keeping him against you. That’s all the energy you expend, letting the rest of your body lie relaxed under him as he uses you.
“Filthy little thing,” he mutters, “rubbing your little pussy all over me, huh?” He grunts with each thrust, turning your head so he can hover his mouth over yours. You know what’s coming. You knew every part of him, could read the signs. Sometimes he fucked you slowly, whispering declarations of love in your ear, and sometimes he fucked you like this: messy and filthy.
He doesn’t last as long as he normally did, his thighs slapping against you as he thrusts turn frantic. His lips press to yours, tongue slipping into your mouth. When he pulls back a little you’re prepared for what he says next. His fingers press across your lips, pulling them apart messily. “Open.”
You part them, letting your tongue slip out over your bottom lip—ready to receive him. He spits, thumb brushing over your lips when you close your mouth and swallow. “Fucking mine,” he groans, his hips stuttering into you as he floods your cunt. You keep your eyes fixed on his face as he draws it out, taking in the sight of him.
“Good kitty,” you purr, brushing a few sweaty strands of hair off his forehead.
please reblog and share your thoughts. caption, tags, replies, or ask box, i read it all. feedback is what motivates me to write more!
↳ masterlist
#lee know smut#lee know x reader#lee know fanfic#kpop smut#stray kids smut#kpop imagines#skz smut#stray kids imagines#stray kids imagine#kpop scenarios#stray kids scenarios#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#minho smut#minho x reader#skz imagines#stray kids fanfic#skz scenarios#x reader#my writing#*
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Neighbors
Leon Kennedy x Fem!Reader
I said I would do requests and requests you all shall get!
This one was suggested by my bsf <3 He messaged me when I complained about having no requests and offered this idea! Shout out to bestie!
Summary: You're new in the neighborhood and Leon takes quite a liking to you <3
Tw: SMUT, p in v sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, swearing, taunting/mocking, hair pulling (Let me know if I missed anything!)
Omg, if there are any mistakes, pls don't make fun of me. I just got new nails and it's a little hard to type on my laptop ;-;
18+!! NSFW!! MDNI!! Read at your own risk!!
Enjoy! <3
❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁
You throw the final box into the pile, wiping the sweat off your brow.
The process of moving into your new home has been a long one, but also a necessary one.
The hot sun beams down on your skin, sweat dripping from every crevice. Your muscles are weak and ache for rest. You turn around and look at your new home, a sense of pride coursing through your veins at the fact that you'd managed to complete everything on your own.
You're so deep in your feeling of accomplishment, that your hardly notice the sound of footsteps approaching you.
"Hey!" The sound of a yell catches you off guard, your shoulders jump and you turn around.
You're met with arguably the best eye-candy you've ever laid eyes on. Blonde hair and blue eyes. Perfectly framed face and a soft jaw. Kind eyes with a hint of mystery behind them, and those arms were something out of a mafia film. You wanted to take a bite out of them...
You realize your gaze had been wandering longer than society would deem friendly.
You feel your cheeks heat up and shake your head to rid of your less than neighborly thoughts.
"Hi! Sorry about that. I was really in my head I guess."
He looks at you, sheepishly smiling. "No, it was my bad, sweetheart. I didn't mean to startle you," He steps closer and offers his hand for you to shake while trying not to stare at your tits through the transparent shirt. "You must've just moved in. I live next to you. Names Leon Kennedy."
You shake his hand and tell him your name, trying to ignore the increase of your heart rate at the pet name. His smile remains through your interaction. He asks about your interests, your family, your life. And you do the same. You don't get many answers, but regardless, after a few minutes, you both feel rather close to one another.
Leon offers you dinner over at his place another day, which is an offer you can't and won't refuse.
❁
The day finally came.
You dress in a simple sundress, bringing a bowl of cookies with you as a gift.
Leon answers the door with a bright smile, welcoming you inside of his home.
His home is hardly decorated, but somehow still feels home-y. He explains that his job causes for him to leave on constant business trips, so he never really had time to decorate.
There's a type of tension in the room. It doesn't have a name, or a describable feeling, but it makes the room feel small. Causes the both of you to feel hot. Your conversations are relaxed, but seem to have some kind of unspoken meaning behind each joke.
At one point, you needed a break from the inexplicable heat.
You ask Leon if you can get something to drink from his kitchen. He, of course, says yes and leads you there, pointing to the cabinet that holds the glass cups.
Only, when you stand on your tip-toes to grab a glass, Leon's large physique is suddenly pressed against your back.
Goosebumps rise on your skin, and a small gasp leaves your lips as his lips skim along your ear.
He has you trapped against him, his arms gripping the counter on each side of your waist. You slowly sink back down onto your heels, grabbing the counter as well for support when your legs begin to feel like jelly. "Leon... What are you doing?"
His hands move away from the counter, fingers slowly tracing from your hip to your waist, where it rests as he whispers into your ear.
"I think we can both feel this... feeling between us... So why don't we stop beating around the bush and cut to the chase, sweetheart?"
❁
Everything seems to be a blur after that.
You only remember Leon's lips on yours, hands wandering and fondling anything he could get his hands on. He'd littered you with hickeys and bruises, slipping off your panties and throwing them off to who knows where.
And now, you lay bent over the arm of his couch, sundress shifted upward over your ass and Leon brutally pounding into you.
Your moans are muffled by the soft cushions of his couch, your hands gripping the fabric for dear life. Your legs have completely given up on you, lying limp and only moving to jerk every time Leon's hips hit yours.
Your hands grip the couch tighter and your pussy clenches around him as you whine out muffled praise.
The sound of skin slapping skin is borderline pornographic, the wet squelching sound only making the atmosphere so much hotter.
Leon grabs a fistful of your hair, yanking you up and pressing you back flush against his chest. "What was that, sweetheart? I didn't hear you.."
A loud whimper escapes your lips, your nails scratching the arm of the couch. "Said- Said it feels good! It feels so good, Leon!"
He laughs and you moan when he manages to hit somewhere deep inside of you. "Yeah? Feels really good, huh?" He growls and thrusts into you at a faster pace. You cry out, your legs going numb. And you would've fallen flat on your face if not for Leon's hands that grab your hips.
"Mhm! Yes!" Leon groans as your moans get higher and higher, your toes curling as he try's a new angle, this one causing him to hit that sweet spot that makes you go crazy.
A desperate sob mixed with a cry tears its way out of you. "Right there! Ah! Yes-!"
You writhe in his grip, your orgasm quickly approaching. He runs his hands over the sides of your body, gripping so hard you know you'll have bruises in the morning.
His thrusts get sloppy and erratic as he begins to grunt and growl in effort. "So pretty... You gonna cum baby? You gettin' close?"
He mocks you- actually mocks you. His words come out as though he's cooing at you, taunting you. Even though you feel like you should be offended by his tone, instead you feel even more aroused by it.
Your back arches and short, pitiful gasps leave you. "Fuck- Yes! 'm gonna c-cum, Leon! Gonna cum jus' for you-!"
You hardly finish the sentence before your release forces itself out of you. You cry out, electricity flashing though your veins, as your orgasm seeps all over Leon's dick. He somehow cums at the same time as you, heaving a deep and shameless moan.
The both of you take a moment coming down from the high, mouths hung agape, breathing shallow, and covered in sweat.
Leon finally pulls out of you, watching your body twitch while his seed leaks out of you. He glances at your face, seeing your blissed out expression. An amused smirk sits on his lips when you turn to look at him. You want to say something snappy, but your lungs haven't fully recovered. So, you settle for just flicking him off, muttering a small, 'fuck off'.
I think its safe to say, you would be seeing your new neighbor a lot more often... <3
❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁
Omgg This took forever!! Finishing writing and proofreading at 3:20am aND I'VE BEEN WORKING ON THIS SINCE 2PM!!!!
Anywaysss, Hope y'all enjoyed!! <3
Requests are open!! <3
#leon kennedy x reader#resident evil#leon x reader#viaoverthemoon#leon kennedy x you#leon s kennedy smut#re4 leon#re4#smut#resident evil leon#leon s kennedy#leon kennedy smut#leon kennedy x y/n#leon kennedy
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MINHO ; just like the rain
summary ; youre the rain to minhos storm clouds
warnings ; language, talk about mental health and self hate, mentions of death
word count ; 874
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Minho was fairly reserved and didn't talk to many when he had the opportunity to. He'd lost friends, his memories, his life, coming to the Glade. He lost everything and for what, to run around a giant maze for the rest of his life? He was trapped in a cycle of sleep, eat, run, map, eat, and sleep, and he had been for years now. He felt worthless, and hated himself deep down. Thomas and Newt knew but didn't know how to help over his shrugging off of the situation. They decided if he needed to talk, he would if he wanted to or if he was ready.
But, upon your arrival, he found some sort of comfort in you. Your calm and friendly demeanor just had him spill himself one night at another Greenie bonfire. You listened to him talk for hours and gave him a whole motivational speech and reassured him he'd be alright.
And now, he could finally say that the viscous cycle of overworking and hating himself was over, and it had been since the first time you smiled at him.
You were the rain to his storm clouds.
Just like the rain, you cast the dust -his self hatred- into nothing. You washed the salt in his wounds from his hands.
You had your hooks in him, drawing him closer and closer each and everyday. He could see you in his dreams and in his fate, yet still deny the persistent questions from Newt and Thomas, and even Fry and Winston.
He went out of his way after spending hours in the map room just to talk to you and hear all about your day. Even the sound of your voice comforted him and sent a shiver, almost a tingling sensation, up his spine and into his brain.
He jogs to your side, wondering what you're up to at this hour at night. You snuck out in the middle of the night, wanting to feel the cold, wet rain against your skin for a bit. It wasn't pouring but it wasn't lightly sprinkling either, a fair amount of water soaking you.
His feet almost fall beneath him due to the mud under the grass, making him lightly gasp as he reaches out to you, now turning around as you heard him.
"Y/n!" He gasps, recalculating his footing to not fall.
You quickly reach your arm out for him and catch him at the forearm. You steadily help him back on his feet with a smile and chuckle while his face heats up from embarrassment.
"You good?" You ask, wiping away any stray rain around your eyes before it seeped in, not wanting to try and be bothered by it in the moment.
He nods, looking away for a moment. "What're you doing out here?"
You shrug, loosely hanging onto his wrist, not noticing, although he does. "Enjoying the rain"
"Why?"
"...It's nice, I guess. Makes me feel like there's hope outside the Glade"
He nods, seeing and feeling you drop his wrist. He slings an arm around your shoulder, a usual act of affection between you two.
You hear the rain pitter and patter against the Homestead as the force of the little raindrops increases. However, it’s soothing. You feel like you can stand here with Minho forever. He provided an odd comfort, even when silent, as just knowing he’s there beside you could rid you of any worries or fears.
"Are you not cold?" He asks, feeling goosebumps rise along his arms and legs.
You shake your head no with a shrug, "Why, are you?" You tease with a smile.
"No, no, no. Definitely not." He defensively speaks, playing into the joke as he retracts his arm from your shoulders and crosses them. His sassy personality was showing through even in the middle of the night. "I'm never cold, ever"
"I'd be really concerned if you were never cold, Minho. Maybe we should send a note down with the box asking about it" You speak, playing around with him. "Maybe we should stop hanging out. What if it's a contagious disease?"
"No, no, I mean, just get cold! Just like, not around you," He shrugs, taking back his last words.
"Oh?" You question, your lips curling into a smirk. "Around me?"
"I, uhm-"
"Hm?"
Before you can process what he's doing, Minho swiftly moves his hands to your jawline and smashes your lips together. You swear you hear a lightning strike as he does so, and rest your hands on his shoulders, not denying this new act of affection. You could get used to this.
You're the first to pull away, shocked and confused.
"Minho?"
He's silent, face burned up as he can't look at you.
"Min-"
"Don't talk about it"
You take a moment to think before patting him on the shoulder, turning back towards the Homestead.
"I'm going back to bed. Enjoy the rain"
He nods, crossing his arms again as he looks out towards the Deadheads again. He hears you slowly trudge off across the Glade, the squishing of the mud and wet grass below you drowning out as you walk further and further away.
"Damnit"
"Language!"
"How the hell did you just hear me?!"
#Spotify#lowkeyrobin#tmr minho x reader#minho x reader#tmr minho#minho tmr#minho tmr x reader#the maze runner x reader#maze runner x gn reader#maze runner x reader#maze runner oneshot#the maze runner#maze runner#gender neutral reader#gn reader#they/them reader
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Can you pls make a yautja x AMAB! reader fanfic with body worship? (Specifically the readers thighs.. :›)
ALSO I LOVE ALL OF UR FANFIC S RAHHHHHHH
Worship My King
Pairing: Uihoy (Male Yautja) x AMAB!Reader
Warnings: bondage, mlm, lots of dirty talking, soft sex, hand job, thigh worship,
Word Count: 2148
Summary: In confines of Uihoy's ship, the Yautja is on his knees to worship you. He's got you restrained, at his whim. You are his to play with, to love on.
Author Note: Thank you so much! I'm so glad you're enjoying them. That's what I'm here to do!
P.s. I'm working hard at requests. I had to close my ask box as well because I hit about 15 requests. Sorry but it was necessary.
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Ao3
Worn hands knead the flesh that made up your thighs. Bump followed in their stead. Your legs shook, trembling with effort to stay open. As much as you desperately wanted to snap them close and trap those gorgeous, purple hands between them; Uihoy wanted you to keep them open. Be good for him. A good boy.
The heat stopped just shy of the apex of your thighs. A keen built up in the back of your throat. You struggled against the intricately ropes wounded around your arms, all the way to your shoulder. They completely retained you, leaving you at the mercy of whatever Uihoy willingly gave to you for his pleasure.
From his spot between your shaking thighs, Uihoy rose on his knees, hands leaving your body to rest on either side of your head. The large male had you trapped at his will on his ship, in his bed. Uihoy leaned down, covering you with his shadow as he deliberately moved his mouth next to your ear. His warm breath tickled your delicate skin. You shivered.
“Good boy, keeping legs open for Uihoy,” he rumbled into your eardrum. The brass voice caused your forgotten cock to twitch on you abdomen. Left untouched once he removed all clothing from your form and tied you up.
A hot, blazing tongue grazed along your jawline and slid away once at your chin. Your hands clenched at the fur blankets laid beneath your jittering body. The unreleased energy sizzle behind flushed skin. Uihoy placed a hand around your neck and squeezed just a minute fraction of his strength. The way you cried out, shaft jumping up was a sight to consume.
Pre-cum leaked out, leaving behind a white trail on your skin. Uihoy’s eyes locked onto yours before maneuvering himself, slowly crawling backwards till his head was hovering above your belly button. You watched with rapture as the male lowered himself, gaze locked onto you. Time slowed. His tongue slithered out and lapped at the pre-cum, muscle curling to bring it into his mouth.
The sight had you fighting the restraints harder than before. Anything to make him take more, do more to you. But he’s hunter that’s perfected the patience needed to survive in this universe.
His hand tightened significantly and pinned you to the bed. “Still, little one,” he demanded, sight still focused solely on your face. Trapped, your chest heaved with shuttering breaths. Yet, you didn’t listen.
With a short groan, the purple male crawled back up your body and crowded you to the bed. His face invaded yours, pink muscle flickering out to taste your skin. He settled some of his weight mindfully on top of you but careful to keep your weeping cock untouched. “Said to still, Treasure,” he hissed out with a little more force than before.
Your wide eyes peered into his. “Please,” you begged airily, pleading for something more than fleeting touches he offered. Uihoy chuckled with his brassy voice and rested his forehead on yours.
The grasp on your throat fell away for it to only drift down to your nipples. The added stimulation had you biting at your bottom lip to stop a pathetic from tumbling its way out. “What’s wrong, Treasure?” he taunted with honeyed tone. Both of your thighs locked at his sides. An attempt to pin him to you. Anything to gain friction to your abandoned shaft that red and angry. A prominent vein popping out.
All he had to do was rise to his knees, place a hand on your own, and spilt your legs. The strength he used was nothing compared to what you’ve seen him exert. Like it was nothing to him.
“Pauk, look at little one.” His hand hovered mere millimeters above your cock to the point you could feel his heat washing off of him. “Look in need for Uihoy. Poor little thing.” It hurt so bad in a good way when he brushed his coarse thumb along the underside of your weeping member.
And the pitiful cry he received was music to his ears. Your cock was abandoned all over again. His hands returned to your chest and left goosebumps in their wake once more. Underneath him, you kept squirming for any attempt for his hands to return south at where you needed him the most. But the hardened warrior focused solely on your torso.
Sharp and lethal talons ran across fragile skin. One wrong move could slice the flesh wide open. Your muscles bulged at the feeble attempt to break free from the strong bonds. The amount of pressure you put on them caused pain to buzz in the back of your head. That was the last thing you could care about though.
A massive grin was pinned to Uihoy’s face at the sight of your struggling. Your legs trembled as they were lifted to curl in on yourself. One of your thighs trapped your cock which in turn gave friction. Your eyes rolled up at the new, relieving sensation. You didn’t stop, hips rutting weirdly, barely enough, but a way to gain any friction.
All of that was stopped when a pair of massive, strong hands each of your thighs from the middle and spilt them open. They were swiftly pinned to the bed under the weight of Uihoy. Said male cocked his head with an honey, concerned look. “It seems there was a lapse of judgment. These handsome thighs… need more attention.”
Uihoy curved his spine and began to lay a line at the start just below your knee of kisses. From there, he slowly created his own path to the apex of your thighs. A bundle of hope bloomed in your chest until the mandible kisses resumed on the other side. You could sob at the lack of anything more than teasing from your mate. He wasn’t giving you anything more than fleeting touches and whispered promises. You groaned in frustration and jutted your hips up in protest. But the stern hand holding down your thighs prevented the riot.
The Yautja tilted his massive head just enough to peak at you from underneath his brows. “Does little hunter know what do to Uihoy?” he purred then shifted forward enough to grind the bulge in his pants against your thigh. A light bulb appeared over his purple head. “Pauk… theses thighs would look so good wrapped around Uihoy’s cock.” He ran his claws down the inside of your thighs. “Isn’t that right, little hunter?” And you keened in response. Anything to get him to touch you. Properly.
“Yeah, of course, little one would. Desperate for anything, even if Uihoy shoved cock down that tight throat… but that’s not what Uihoy wants. No,” he trailed off softly and focused back on your thighs.
Once he scooted back enough to bend over, your mate laid kiss after on your bare skin. It took you a moment to think through the clouds but come to realize, he’s loving on every mark on your thighs. Even ones you’ve gained before knowing they existed.
Your chin was buried into your chest while you watched with rapture. Uihoy went over each scar or stretch mark that marred your flesh with care that lover would give. And fuck, if that didn’t make you ready to burst, then you didn’t know what.
His hands drifted back up on the underside of your thighs before stopping at the swell of your cheeks. In the cloudy fog clogging rational thinking, you didn’t pay attention to what they were doing.
A pink tongue slithered out and followed the curve of a particularly long scar on the inside of your legs. The memory of how badly that had hurt flashed to life but was swiftly shooed away at the gentle love Uihoy provided.
“Love,” you sputtered, muscles straining to fight him. “I, I need you.” It wasn’t hard to admit that but a new wave of heat burned your face.
Sweat prickled at your forehead the longer this went on without relief. Uihoy loved, licked, kissed at what flesh that made up your thighs. The male took his wonderful time.
Every time you attempted to push against him for something more, he only had to slightly flex his arms and release a minute snarl. One he sounded off when his fingers ghost next where your balls rested and you jutted up for more. “Fucking hell Uihoy!” you snapped finally and fought like your life depended against the ropes.
They creaked and groan. But despite giving it your all, they refused to fray.
Hot, fresh tears began to pool at the corner of your eyes. Uihoy felt his painful unsheathed shaft twitch, dampening the inside of his pants at the gorgeous sight. You whimpered, face pulled down into a frown with frustration flickering like flames in your eyes.
Uihoy snorted and leaned up to rest on his knees, eyes drinking in the sweat that coated your skin. “What does little hunter want?” he teased, head cocked to the side like a confused puppy. The grin that painted his face widely mocked you. A look you desperately wanted to smack off before jumping the male and riding him to kingdom come.
Between clenched teeth, you bite, “you know what I want.” Harsh, violent words he’ll forgive you for. If he was in your position, he would be acting the same. Specially, if his cock looked as painful as yours did.
He tsked and shook his head. “Do better. Little hunter knows words are what it takes.” You tell him what you want, he’ll do it. Beck and call. You had two mighty hunters wrapped around you nimble fingers.
The lump in your throat was forced down and you turned your face away from him. The moment you did though, purple flashed across your vision. A firm grasp latched onto you chin and forced you to look back at Uihoy. “Don’t look away from Uihoy. Tell what it is little one wants. What little one needs.” You keened, biting nearly harshly at your bottom lip before giving.
“Touch me, please.” He raised a brow. The hand on your thigh began to caress the supple skin there. You growled in frustration. “No! My cock. Touch my fucking cock!” you practically screamed at him. The male’s grin turned evil.
“Wish is Uihoy’s command.”
A wrapped firmly around your painfully hard shaft. Just the touch of it sent ecstasy up the length of your spine while settling in the pit of your belly. It hurt in the most pleasurable ways.
The soft lights that luminated the ship were covered, your body blanketed by a shadow. Uihoy’s heat drifting down onto you. “This is what is needed, isn’t it?” his voice whispered directly into your ear. But you couldn’t hear him from the rushing blood nor focus on a single word from the pleasure.
“Need mate to tied little hunter up and play until begging, begging for Uihoy. Take whatever Uihoy wants, little hunter will allow.” You choked on the air sole in your lungs as the grasp began to move. Your eyes spun backwards, back arching off of the bed completely. Your balls drawing up.
White blinded your vision, not a sound registered in your brain. The pain that exploded throughout every nerve in your body was unexplainable, but you wouldn’t stop it. Your cock sputtered, spasmed with each new shot of cum, a nearly never-ending stream that painted your stomach and Uihoy’s hand white. Each rope nearly hurt from how good the release of pent-up pressure was.
Then, you collapsed onto the bed, drained, soul sucked dry. Your eyes closed, chest heaving with lung gasping breaths. Every cell part of your body vibrated with energy but slowly faded while you drifted back down.
Hands pet up and down the length of your thighs. “So good for Uihoy,” the Yautja’s brass voice rumbled in the air. The hair along your arms and legs prickled with dying electricity. Your body gave one last twitch before settling into the furs both of your mates have hunted for you.
Uihoy purred softly for you. A fur blanket was used to wipe the spent cum off of your stomach. It was promptly discarded to the side. He crawled up and rested next to you, burying his face into the crook of your neck. The vibrations he sent off rolled over your skin. “How was that?”
With your eyes still shut, you hummed in content with a smile twitching your lips. “Yeah? Good boy,” he whispered and licked up a lone stripe of sweat.
One of his hands palmed at the flesh of your thighs again. “Never get used to these. Gotta let Uihoy markup… or tie?” he groaned at the new idea and nipped at you. In the afterglow, you began to drift off, protected by one of your lovers.
#yautja#predator#yautja x reader#alien vs predator#yautja x you#predator x reader#yautja x human#predator x you#predator x human#x reader#smut#predator smut#yautja smut#alien smut#very smutty#gay smut
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The Parent Trap | 0.4 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader
Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist
♡ In which, after a couple of years of listening to Peyton and Parker Bradshaw complain about their parents’ custody agreement, Grandpa Mav’s meddling goes a little bit too far.
♡ warnings: mentions of divorce throughout the fic, flashbacks to arguments and unhappily married people. Idiots who still love each other and don’t know it, drinking / being drunk, flashbacks and references to sex, minors dni, wc: 4.8k
…
“I’m not being mean, I just think he smells weird,” Parker decides with a shrug, moving the little silver dog six spaces and narrowly missing her sister’s monopoly of hotels on the right side of the board. She lifts her gaze and looks at you, just daring you to challenge her logic. “It’s not mean if I’m just saying what I think.”
Peyton’s lips twitch as she shakes the dice in her hand, but she doesn’t add any commentary this time. You narrow your eyes across at your outspoken daughter, finding so much of your ex-husband in the amusedly defiant way she stares back at you.
“What does he smell like, then, Parks?” You challenge.
“Wood.” She answers with a shrug as her sister rolls a solid twelve and picks up the thimble to skip along the board in front of her. Peyton pokes her tongue out in concentration, like it’ll do anything to prevent her solid twelve from landing her right on the Go To Jail space. She growls in frustration and falls back dramatically onto the carpeted floor. She has spent most of this round in jail. You’re beginning to feel sorry for her, but it’s hard when she has some of the best properties and a business strategy that should probably concern you as a parent.
“Well, he is a carpenter.” You remind her, picking the dice up and shaking them in your hand. With that, the man in question rounds the corner with two glasses and two juice boxes balancing in his hands and a smile plastered across his face. This is now the fourth time that Chris has met your children, the first being a month ago.
He seems to be growing on them if Parker is actively trying not to be mean this time. You still haven’t gotten your girls to ‘fess up as to which one of them buried his phone in the backyard like a wild dog. Like you wouldn’t notice when your hydrangeas started ringing.
“Here we go, an apple, an orange, and two coffees.” Chris hands out the drinks and struggles bending his remarkably inflexible legs into a crisis-crossed shape. They made him be the phone piece — you’re certain that it’s to taunt him about the burying incident — but he’s being a champ about it.
Peyton looks down at her drink and hums, “I don’t want apple anymore. I’ll take an orange juice, big guy.”
In the years since you last hung out with Maverick, it’s so easy to miss the little Mitchell-isms working their way into your kids’ vocabulary. Your head whips around, far more concerned with what she said rather than where she got it from. Chris turns his head towards her, opens his mouth and quickly shuts it again, readying himself to get back up. Your eyes widen as you turn to find your eight year old smiling back at you.
“Then go and get an orange juice, P. Don’t be rude.” You correct her with a stern frown. Suddenly, the apple juice isn’t as much of an issue. She stabs the straw through the hole with her eyes narrowed in Chris’ direction, but this is still a big improvement from last time.
This was never going to be easy, but in the weeks since you introduced your girls to your boyfriend, you have to admit that you thought it would be easier than this. You’ve never heard either one of the girls talk about their dad as much as they do when Chris is in the room.
“Dad knows that she prefers orange.”
“Well, she asked Chris for an apple juice and that’s what she got.” It’s hard not to grow tired when you know it must be wearing him down too. You take the dice and drop them suddenly into Chris’ toughened palm. He softens in comparison, simply smiling back at you.
“So, did you guys get up to anything fun when you were at your dad’s last weekend?” He tries. If they want to talk about their dad, he doesn’t mind — he gets it. It makes you feel even worse.
“Yeah.” Payton deadpans, staring across at him like dirt on her shoe. “What did you two do while we were gone?”
Your head turns towards her again. Chris answers coolly.
“Your Mom sold that new dress she was working on. Cool, right? — We went out to dinner to celebrate that. Other than that, it’s pretty quiet around here without you guys.”
He’s looking at the board, busy moving his piece. He doesn’t know your children the way that you do. He misses entirely the split-second in which they glance across at each other. They find you narrowing your eyes at them.
At once, they’re saved by your ringtone. Another glance is shared between the two of them as you push up from the floor and head for the hallway to answer your call. In your absence, Chris’ piece lands on Peyton’s Park Row property, with the hotel sitting on top.
His brown eyes flicker up to find the eight-year old staring at him expectantly.
“You know the rules. Cough up.” She demands, in a tone she knows she isn’t allowed to be talking in. By the look on their little faces, Chris almost instinctively reaches for his real wallet rather than the colourful little notes sitting beside him.
When you walk back into the room, the first thing that you notice is the silence. Looking between the twins and your boyfriend, your frown deepens. “What’s going on?”
“Chris lost. He’s out of money.” Peyton explains calmly, flicking through her stack of ones like she’s Vito Corleone all of a sudden. Chris turns to look at you and simply wiggles his eyebrows, giving a shrug of defeat as he moves to stand.
As much as you find reflections of your ex-husband in them every day, it tugs at your heartstrings to see pieces of yourself in them too.
“You okay?” He asks, cupping the back of your neck, craning his neck to look at your face. Your palm catches his arm, sitting against his bicep as he pulls you closer.
Parker kicks her sister and they both turn their heads to watch.
You lower your voice to a whisper, fighting to keep the disappointment off of your face. “Yeah… The sitter just canceled.”
“Oh.” He sighs. You’ve been talking about this night for weeks, it’s not often that you get to go out with your friends now that you’ve all got grown-up commitments. “D’you think Bradley could watch them?”
“He’s out of town for a work thing.” You explain dejectedly, leaning in to Chris’ touch as he swipes your hair delicately back from your face.
Watching him hold you close, Parker starts to consider burying his phone once again. Or dropping it in the toilet. Or maybe pouring honey into his work boots that she saw by the front door.
Or maybe, if she was staying true to the source material, she could get him on a camping trip and push his mattress out into the middle of the lake. But he’s bigger than Meredith Blake was, and she’s smaller than Hallie Parker was.
The honey will do.
“I’ll watch ‘em.”
Bradley was out of town on a work thing. He was gone from Tuesday ‘til Friday, he told you that. He got in a little after nine and thought about having a beer, but didn’t. Instead, he just sat on his couch and tried to find a show that would keep him up long enough that he wouldn’t wake up at five in the morning.
He woke up at 1am, his neck stiff and the show two episodes ahead of where he thought it should be. Groaning, he had pushed himself off of the couch and decided to head to bed when he had gotten the text.
The conversation he had with Parker last weekend crossed his mind instantly. They had spent hours talking about fate; what is was, if they believed in it. If Bradley hadn’t startled himself awake by snoring, he would have missed the text completely.
He slipped his phone out of the pocket of his jeans with one hand, rubbing at his tired shoulder muscle with the other, squinting down at the bright screen.
Please pick me up from the Hard Deck when you see this.
He hasn’t ever made you ask twice.
Chris offering to watch the girls had come completely out of left field. It had almost caused a full-blown argument, but that man just seems impossible to get angry with. Stroking your hair and calming each one of your nerves step by step, he swore to you that he just wanted you to have a good time, that he could handle two little girls.
Bribing them was clearly the only way this was going to work, and it seemed like Chris had that in the bag. Emergency numbers set up and ready, allergy information written on the fridge and a borderline military debrief with your twins had left you practically trembling with anxiety, but had gotten you out of the house nonetheless.
You hadn’t planned on getting this drunk. The plan was to go, have a couple of drinks with your friends, and Uber home after a couple of hours. It never works out that way.
In fact, you can barely keep your head up straight when you hear one of your friends call out over the music. “Is that Rooster?”
Blinking doesn’t help you see straight. The loud music, and the bodies in the way, and the irregular lighting doesn’t help either. You squint and finally find him. Wearing jeans and a tight fitting black t-shirt, heading straight for you.
When you squint harder, you expect to realize that it’s not him.
“Rooster!” The second that he reaches you, your arms are around his neck and your chest is pressing into his. You haven’t hugged your ex-husband like this in a long time. “What are you doing here?”
He wrinkles his nose, untangling your arms from around him so that he can get a good look at your face. It’s been a long time since he saw you this dressed up. Hair, make-up, heels. The dress looks familiar but he can’t quite place it.
“You texted me.” He watches your eyelids falling shut, blinking heavily and irregularly as he explains to you. He steadies you by your arms. “You wanna go home?”
There’s a disgruntled groaning sound before you try to look around at your friends. At this point, Rooster makes an effort to be polite and greet them all. After all, they were his friends too, once. They’re all as shitfaced as you.
“Come on, mama. I’ll take you home,” He decides for you, hugging you against him like your own feet aren’t secure enough for his tastes anymore. You fall all too willingly against his chest, your cheek pressing into the fabric of his shirt while he tries to keep the attention of your friends. “Does anyone else need a ride?”
Maybe they do, maybe they don’t — maybe their own husbands will get up and come get them. Rooster won’t leave them without knowing they’ve got a way home, so you know that once you feel the outside chill on your skin he must have made arrangements for them.
He sighs quietly and jerks you as he tries to get a better grasp. Outside, you can finally hear him properly.
“Honey, you need to walk. Use your feet.” He tells you, despite all evidence pointing to the contrary. Your head is lulled against the swell of his shoulder, you haven’t moved your feet since he grabbed you, and yet you’re moving towards the car perfectly fine.
Everything is happening in chapters. You’re skipping ahead and losing parts, not paying attention to much. Things aren’t spinning yet, but they sure are blurry. You manage to talk back anyway.
“I don’t.” You answer, head turned towards the sky. It occurs to you, briefly, that you’re going to be horrifically embarrassed about this tomorrow. Your feet try, then trip, and his hold on you tightens.
“What did you drink? — You alright?” His arm around your waist pulls you closer, your head lulling off of his shoulder and awkwardly onto his moving chest. You hum contentedly.
“I had a good time.” You whisper.
He sighs something about you throwing up in his car and you’re faintly aware of the sound of a car door unlocking.
“C’mere, honey. Just sit right there. I’ve got some water. You wanna sit and get some fresh air with me?” Maybe there are pauses in between — maybe he says it all slower than that, but you can’t really focus. Or open your eyes.
You know that he has guided you to sit against the tailgate of the Bronco because of the way your feet dangle. As a mother, you hate this car. As a girl who fell in love with Bradley Bradshaw — fuck, you love this car.
“Wanna drink somethin’ for me?” Rooster offers the bottle to your mouth and winces as you draw your head sharply away from it. He grabs your shoulders and stops you from teetering over.
You’re not sure how, but you settle into his side and find that his arm remains there. Draped around your shoulders as you rest your head against him.
It takes a while, but Rooster gets you to drink. It’s anyone’s guess as to how long you sit on that tailgate sipping from that water bottle, but his arm around your shoulder feels nice anyway — even if he’s just rubbing your back because he thinks you’re going to puke.
When things start to come around a little more, you’re laying across the two backseats and hugging the water bottle like a teddy bear. Your head is spinning.
“You alright back there?” Rooster calls to you, making you frown slightly and lift your head. Passing by traffic lights and street signs, the world turned on its axis as you try to push yourself up and ultimately give in to staying laid down.
He’s really here. Some way or another, you really forced this man to carry you out of the bar and spend his Friday night babying you. You want to know if you called, or texted, or if he was just in the bar and saw you — you thought he was away for work — but that’s all too embarrassing still.
Your mind is too cloudy for that level of conversation, your words still don’t sound quite right.
“You even didn’t question it.” Your body sways as he pulls to a stop at a red light, your focal point on the soft top of the Bronco swaying with you and kickstarting that dizziness all over again. With a swallow, you close your eyes. The swaying continues like the leather seats below you are actually built into a speedboat as opposed to a seventies classic car.
“Did you put that seatbelt on yet?” His dad-voice comes from the front. Eyes still shut, this makes you smile. You don’t even remember him telling you to. He peers at you through the rear view mirror. “Question what?”
All you offer him is a small shrug, not interested in a seatbelt in the slightest in your current state. This next sentence requires a deep inhale first, but is interrupted by a hiccup. “I text you out of the blue and you just… show up. Didn’t even check to see if it was for you.”
Bradley bites at the inside of his cheek, brows drawing together as the light turns green and another check towards the mirror confirms that you still aren’t wearing a seatbelt. He huffs and the car pulls sharply to the side, making you groan in complaint.
The radio plays on as Bradley stops at the side of the road and unclips his own seatbelt, then gets out of the car. Your poor brain hasn’t even had time to catch up before he’s pulling the door open and half-climbing in. You blink as he appears over you.
With the door still open, he’s just illuminated by the street light. His eyes have always looked so soft in the dark. The slight pout of his lips, the sharpness of his jaw, the bump in his nose. He’d started out with the most innocent of intentions, but as he leans over you across the backseat, it becomes clear that you’re both struck by the same abrupt chord of familiarity.
This is far from the first time that the two of you have been in this position. In fact, this is exactly how things started out the first night you hooked up.
He swallows above you. There’s a wonderstruck look on your face that makes his ears burn red. Your eyes search over his face and with each inch they cover, he watches them flood with remembrance. Warm pink spreads across his cheek, extending down his chest. It makes your lips twitch to think you can still get him to blush.
“Come on, sit up.” Bradley whispers, gently taking each of your hands in his and pulling you upright. “Let’s put your seatbelt on.”
Silently, you don’t fight him on the matter and Bradley knows that’s a win in itself. It’s not the first time he’s had to wrangle you into this car after a few drinks either. Your eyes are just on him, and he swears that’s where the heat on his face is coming from. His fingers fumble to get the buckle into the clasp.
The second that he hears that click, he’s withdrawing from the backseat and climbing back into the driver’s side. You stare at the rear view mirror as he pulls away from the curb. In truth, you had forgotten how gentle he could be with you.
“Thank you.”
He glances up at the mirror, then back at the road.
“Thanks for picking me up. Sorry that I’m…” The pause facilitates a deep inhale that stops you from hiccuping mid-sentence. He watches you sheepishly ready yourself to continue. “Such a mess.”
This, makes him smile. It spreads across his face just as easily as the pink hue had, taking over his features.
“Honey, we both know I’ve seen worse.” Oh god, he remembers. He said it so casually too, like he’s reminiscing on a fond memory. The memory isn’t quite as fond for you, but then again, you don’t remember too much of it. He used to always tease you about it.
The night you met him was your twenty-first birthday, and you were flirting all night, but then you had gotten way too drunk and he had to carry you home — with you fighting him the whole way. He called you alley-cat for two months afterwards. Your feral behaviour had clearly caught his eye, though, because he started hanging around the Hard Deck a lot more afterwards.
Things hadn’t ever seemed that serious in the Hard Deck. Everything was easier back then. The career you have now is exactly what you wanted, but you can’t pretend that some days you wouldn’t rather have a handsome aviator leaning over a bar and telling you jokes to make your shift pass faster.
He takes one more look up at the mirror and smiles again, this time because he finds you already not trying to smile back at him.
“God, I had such a crush on you that summer.” The second that you’ve said it, you have to stop yourself from slapping a hand over your mouth. Closing your eyes will do. You can feel him staring either way.
It shouldn’t be weird to acknowledge. You were married for over five years. In love for a good while before that. Of course you had a crush on him originally. But it’s at the forefront of both of your minds that it still feels like yesterday that you were sprawled along this backseat, stomach bursting with butterflies as he unbuttoned your shorts for the first time.
The salt on his skin, the smell of his cologne mixed with sunscreen and sweat. The way his curls dry after he’s been in the ocean. The way the sunset hits the browns of his eyes. The freckles on his shoulders, dipping into the valleys between his muscles.
The brush of the same moustache you had been making fun of for months against the most sensitive parts of your skin and with it — the realisation that you actually loved that moustache.
Shivering through the late summer evening heat, whispering his name to the stars as his smart mouth worked between your legs. He drove around with the top down a lot back then.
He remembers everything about getting to know you. Getting taunted relentlessly by Hangman because of the way he blushed when you used to tell him his drink was on the house. Almost falling off of his stool craning his neck to get a better look at you behind the bar. Making sure you were invited to every beach outing. The first time he kissed you, and the way you were looking up at him before.
“Sorry, that was—“
“It’s alright.” He interrupts. When he closes his eyes at the next stop sign, all he can think of is the sight of your wet footsteps leading up the steps on his back porch. You had come from the beach. He had known he was going to find you in his shower inside. It was the first time he had ever come home to you. You were barely dating back then.
He looks at the mirror, wondering if you remember that time in the shower.
You’re not thinking about the shower. Fingers spread out, trailing the seams in the leather, you’re thinking about the last time you had sex in this car. So different from the first time. Bradley had known your body so much better, the two of you were so much more comfortable together.
The girls were with your parents for an entire weekend while the two of you were out of town for the wedding. Before the reception, Bradley had tugged you outside and bunched your pretty dress up around your middle. Closing your eyes and letting your fingers inch across the seats, you can still remember his breath fanning across his chest, the low grunts as he drove himself into you. His arms wrapped around your body, your forehead resting against his bicep and your legs around his waist.
“Rooster.” You rarely call him that anymore. It’s the first name you knew him by, since all of his work buddies called him that. Bradley was something that came letter, something that felt more for just the two of you. The last thing you would say most nights. Goodnight, Bradley. It’s been a long time since you said that, but you know it would feel just the same coming off of your tongue.
He hums from the front seat, but doesn’t look.
“Could I sit up front with you?”
“Yeah, sure— let me—“ Too late. He hears your seatbelt unbuckle and knows what’s coming next. Sure enough, as he’s going at a steady forty along Palm Avenue, you swing one foot unsteadily over the console and wobble in the direction of the passenger side. “Baby—“
It’s out of instinct, purely because you’re stressing him out. You plop down into the passenger seat and turn your head to look at him. Wordlessly, both of you decide to pretend you didn’t hear that.
For his peace of mind, you tug the seatbelt across your body and clip it in.
“We’re in so much trouble if the girls take after you.” He teases, the smile in his voice cutting through the tension. You giggle beside him.
“Me? — Do you not remember what happens when you get too familiar with a bottle of tequila?” You answer back, eyes closed and a silly smile on your face. You remember. You remember having to carry him, practically dead weight, into your bed from the living room and spend the night rubbing his back while he threw up the next morning.
“Yeah, we’re in big trouble.” Rooster scoffs, pushing his fingers through his hair. You stare across at the tattoo on the inside of his bicep as he rests his elbow against the door.
You’re still drunk enough to blame the alcohol when you reach across and take his free hand as he steadies the wheel with the other. His gaze flickers down as you loop your fingers through his. “We weren’t that bad.”
This time he laughs.
“We weren’t? — So you don’t remember—“ He’s still grinning when he stops himself, already turning into your street. You two don’t talk about that stuff anymore. You’ve moved on. Those funny little stories are private now, entirely his. Your boyfriend sure as hell wouldn’t want to hear them.
He looks over at you as he slows down to pull up to the curb.
You’re already looking across, staring at him with a look he hasn’t seen in a long time. The smile that you flash him makes him think of that first year. Then, you close your eyes and exhale, “I remember everything.”
Even with the radio playing, there’s a silence that sits between the two of you as the car pulls to a stop. It’s at that point that everything in your orbit starts to spin, forcing you forwards and making you whimper. Bradley’s already out of the car and jogging around to your side as you catch your head in your hands and try to breathe.
“C’mere, honey. I’ve got you.” He reaches around you to unbuckle you from the car, pulling you out by your underarms and holding you against him as he shuts the door. It’s still not the most graceful procedure, but he’s gotten better at it. You’re not exactly making it easy for him as you wobble back and hit your head on the window.
“Oh shit, are you okay?” He breathes out.
“I wanna go to bed.” You complain, wobbling forwards and this time crashing into his chest. He secures one hand on the back of your head to keep you there, pretending like he isn’t checking whether or not you have a bump. Even now, he can’t seem to turn the dad-reflexes off. You sigh into his shoulder. “Take me to bed.”
His free hand finds your waist and he glances down, finally clocking where he remembers this dress from. You wore it the second night of your honeymoon. He remembers this dress very well — he used to carry a picture of you wearing it in his wallet. He’s ninety-percent sure that the twins were conceived because of this dress.
“Yeah, you’re going to bed, baby. Nearly there.” In truth, by the time he has carried you to the door, Rooster has almost forgotten that you have a boyfriend. He’s expecting the same sweet old lady that you’ve been hiring for years to answer the door. That’s why he makes no effort to peel you off of him.
Rooster stares at Chris, while Chris looks between the two of you. You’re barely awake and clinging to your ex-husband’s shirt, he’s holding you at the waist, keeping you standing. Chris looks barely awake, still fully dressed. Clearly a man who has been waiting to hear from you for hours.
“Is she alright? — What happened?” His reaction is positive. Rooster appreciates that much about him. Still, he can’t stop thinking about what Maverick said. If Chris becomes permanent, Bradley’s entire family becomes his.
“She just had too much to drink, she called me for a ride home. I gave her some water and stuff, but—“ Rooster starts to explain, propping you up and holding you halfway. It’s unclear if he’s supposed to just pass you over. He doesn’t know if this guy even knows where you keep the products you remove your make-up with.
“She called you?” Chris challenges. There it is. There’s the anger that Rooster was waiting for.
“I wouldn’t take it personally. She’s shitfaced. She just needs to get some sleep and—“
“Yeah,” Chris steps one foot outside and reaches for your waist. You fall compliantly towards him, the toe of your shoe dragging along the ground as he tucks your arm over his shoulder and props you up. “I’ve got her. Get home safe.”
Rooster’s face doesn’t give away anything. He’s not immature anymore. He wants you to find someone who can give you, and by default his kids, everything that you could ever need. That’s why he keeps his mouth shut. He can think whatever he wants.
“Sure, yeah. Can I just ask… uh… where’s the sitter?” He was so close to walking away and just getting back in his car, but it’s after two now. If that old lady is still here, she would have made it known. As sweet as she was, she loves to complain.
“I watched the kids.”
Bradley raises his eyebrows at your stone-faced boyfriend. Once again, his face gives away nothing. “You did?”
…
Tags:
@khaylin27 @fudge13 @slutford @averyhotchner @hangmanscoming @diorrfairy @thedroneranger @phoenix1388 @perpetuelledaydreaming @princess76179 @cherrycola27 @wkndwlff @xoxabs88xox @galaxy-moon @sugarcoated-lame
#bradley bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw#miles teller#bradley bradshaw smut#jake seresin#rooster bradshaw imagine#rooster x you#the parent trap#parent trap#parent trap Bradley#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#bradley bradshaw x you#bradley bradshaw fic#bradley bradshaw x female reader
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Mistletoe kiss with Higuruma for @pseudowho <3
"Dear, could you get the other box and bring it here?”
Higuruma shuffles his way back to you with a large box filled to the brim with Christmas decorations. You were putting up ornaments on the Christmas tree and needed more trinkets and sparkles on it. In fact, Higuruma’s whole apartment has been decorated thanks to your help. “Do we really need all this stuff, my love?” Higuruma shakes the box in his hands, rattling the baubles inside. He was never one to celebrate the holidays, and he never thought he would, especially to this extent. Living the life of a sorcerer made him a bit jaded, to the point where he usually skips any festivities.
That was until you came into his life, and now his heart has grown three times in size. He didn’t want to be a Grinch and ruin your holiday cheer, but he was a little confused about why everything sparkled so much. You could sense the confusion on his face as he scrunched his nose a bit when you pulled out more trinkets from the box. “We probably don’t need all of it, but it is for the spirit of the holiday.” You pulled out a candy cane from the box and booped Higuruma’s nose with it. He jokingly bites at your fingers when you pull back, setting the box down and coming up behind you.
Resting his chin on top of your head and wrapping his arms around your waist, slowly rocking you in his hold, side to side, humming along to the Christmas’s songs you got on loop in the background. “As long as you’re happy with it, my love, I’ll suffer through any merriness year-round just for you.” He said it sarcastically, and you chuckled, pulling his arms closer around you. Enjoying the immense warmth his body gives off, you rummage in your pocket sneakily, grabbing the special item that you prepared earlier.
“I think you’ll like this holiday’s tradition, though, love.” Higuruma nuzzles his nose in your hair, planting a kiss on top of your head. “Hmm, what is it?” He kept his arms around you as he looked down at you quizzically. You fish out the item in your pocket and hold it high above the two of you. “See this? It's called a mistletoe~” Higuruma squeezed you a bit tighter and said, “I know what a mistletoe is, my love.” He chuckles, letting go of you, only to spin you around to face him and trap you in his arms again.
You lean up and boop your nose with his. “And you know what it means to be caught under one, right?” Higuruma hums a little and flutters his eyelashes a bit at you. “I’m not sure; why don’t you come here and show me…” And with that, you both leaned in closer to one another, pressing your lips gently on his. It starts off slow with a few pecks, then develops further as Higuruma presses his tongue on your bottom lips, making you whine. Giving him a chance to press forward, a hand on your cheek as he tilts your head up and invades your mouth with his tongue.
He takes away your breath like he was a man dying for air, but parts away from you once he feels you have enough. With a string of salvia connecting the both of you as he parts, he looks into your eyes and whispers softly, “Merry Christmas, my love.”
#₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎ softy writes#softy writes#softy's mistletoe event#jjk fluff#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen fluff#higuruma x reader#higuruma fluff
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Pause it, play it, pause it, play it | Market girl AU
Matty x marketseller!reader
Summary: Saturday's are always the same working the stall, until a stranger stops in to disrupt your cassette display...
Authors note: A one shot for you, needed something to help me with a little writer's block so I hope it's alright! Nothing too detailed, mostly just fluff, just saw that middle picture and the idea took root:)
--
“Oi, Rob… You see where I set those new slips I just had?” I called out loudly, riffling my way through the boxes I’d brought over from the van that very same morning. “I swear I left them here in one of these lot.”
Rob seemed to shuffle over towards me at the beckon, peering around the tent whilst I pulled apart one box’s contents.
I huffed when I heard a familiar crunch and looked over my shoulder to see him stood there munching on an apple. “Nah, babe. Sorry. I can ‘ave a look though if you want, got Nance watchin’ out for me.” ‘Nance’ being Nancy, Rob’s massive Alsatian that had once been his grandad’s guard-dog when he’d manned the stall years back.
With a soft chuckle I pushed myself up onto my feet once more, tucking my hair behind my ears as I went.
“Have at, can’t for the life of me find them.” I told him, watching on in growing amusement as he bit down on the green fruit to hold it between his teeth whilst he mooched about the pyramid of cardboard boxes for me, “Sure you’ll still have enough left to sell? Last Saturday you ate your way through six of those, the one before that was the highest yet, at eight.”
Huffing, Rob took another bite of his apple and then shot me a wink. “Keepin’ an eye on me, are you?”
I rolled my eyes as a breathy laugh escaped me, falling against the stall’s main bench so that I could cross my arms over my chest.
A quick glance at the time told me that we still had a while yet ‘til it hit nine and the market opened properly, letting that first bit of crowd sail in. Though I’d always found it was easier most days to just enjoy the atmosphere that was Portobello, instead of focusing in on the imminent mob.
See, I’d been at the market since I were nine, working the vintage stretch with my mum and aunt, having grown all too fond of the people and their many eccentricities. Rob was of the same cloth, though a tad bit older, just enough that I’d had the fattest crush on him and that East London accent of his as a kid.
It had faded over time, mind, what with him jetting off a couple years back when he’d been a holiday rep in Ibiza and me realising that I’d wanted to try my luck at art school. Not that either of those things had worked out, which had ultimately led us back here, surprised not to be rid of the other.
He was as close as I could get to a best mate though. Strange yeah, but he was family, wasn’t he? Everyone who worked the market was.
“With an arse like that? Always.” I retorted easily enough to have him laughing along with me and shaking his head at my antics. Something he’d grown all too used to in the recent years since I’d come back and made my mark with a stall of my own.
It wasn’t anything too grand, my stall. Nothing like the tourist trapping shops that sat a little further down, but sweet enough for the likes of me and the massive music collection I managed to drag down here each weekend. Set up was always mad, yes, but with Rob, Nancy and a few other early starters, time slipped away quick enough.
“Here we go then.”
I blinked and looked back over at Rob, who was now beaming brightly at the set of LP slips I’d ordered in special, waving them about in smarmy pride. I swatted his side as I made a grab for the things, only to have him lift them up higher to where I couldn’t reach.
“Don't be a twat, pass them over. We open in five!”
Rob simply chuckled in retort, taking another chomp out of that apple of his. “A thanks wouldn’t go amiss.”
“Yeah, yeah, I would’ve gotten to it!” I swiftly shot back, jumping up to swipe them from his grasp and grinning in triumph when I managed it. He only laughed, a slight rasp working its way into it like it typically did. “Thanks.” I added after I’d thumbed through the lot, smiling up at him as he made his way to the other side of the tent.
“Buy me a pint and we’ll call it even, treacle.”
I gave him a roll of my eyes, but agreed without much fuss. “Fine, but just the one, tight arse.”
His hearty chuckle filled the steadily growing street of sellers and I watched on as he stroked Nancy’s collar before settling back in at his own stall which resided by mine.
“Penny’s take care of the pounds, my darlin’.”
I raised a single brow and tucked the slips into one of the closer vinyl cubbies- 70’s Proto-punk wasn’t much of a seller anyway. “You mean, look after the pennies and the pounds will look after themselves.”
Rob clucked his tongue, waving the correction away with the hand that held his apple core, “Alright, smart-arse. You knew what I meant.”
I smirked, tittering quietly to myself whilst he settled his usual bum bag around his hips. It suited him, I thought, the neon green pouch sitting atop that awful red and white apron he’d pinched off the butchers up in Notting Hill when he’d worked there for a weekend. Though I much preferred my own, my nephew having decked it out in all sorts of pins and patches for me a while back now.
With that Rob and I settled into our own stations, me taking perch on the old wooden stool I’d found in the back of a garden shed, and Rob being his usual loudmouth self, beckoning the arriving customers on closer.
The crowd grew bigger and bigger the closer it got to ten, lots of people stopped by to have a chat or a look round, a few purchased a couple of bits. It was mainly just the vinyls that sold these days, but I still had posters, cd’s, and even cassettes on show.
It wasn’t usual for the cassettes to get a good look over though, mainly just a ‘Oh! Do you remember them?’ and then a small laugh before people eventually moved on. Which was why I was more than a little surprised to see a figure having a right old rummage through the steady collection I owned, once I’d managed to wrap up another sale.
Glancing about, I spotted a pair of old birds flirting with Rob by the pears, Nance having gone to settle herself down by my bag in the back to hide from their gentle clucking, and how the crowded mob had thinned out a tad since most people had made their way further down the road’s neck.
I tucked the few notes I held into my pouch and stepped over a tangle of cables to make my way closer to the person, taking in their too big graphic tee and the tight zip up that had been layered over top of it. The nearer I grew the more I spotted though, the slight nod of a head as fingers worked their way deftly through the collection, the array of dark curls that poked their way out of the sides of a worn cap, and then the tiny hoop which dangled from a right earlobe.
“Looking for something specific?”
The bloke didn’t startle much, there was no real jump at the sound of my voice, only the slight tilt of his head, as though he was used to being caught off guard. I watched him closer after that, noting how his thumb trailed across one of the few Sonic Youth singles I had.
“Their ‘86 album?”
His voice was gentler than I’d first been expecting, rasped with a slight accent I couldn’t quite place. I blinked at his ask, skimming through the catalogue of tapes my mind offered me, which hardly ever seemed to move from their typical place of sorting.
“Um, top right? Should be one there, got Sister and Goo too, if I’m not wrong. Though the ‘88 album seems to be their most popular- even in cassette form.” I had rambled a tad there, I knew that much, but it was all part of the job to me. Talk and talk until they either fled the scene or decided to buy more than what they’d first come for. “You into cassettes then?”
He gave me a low chuckle and pulled away from the stand slightly, it was then that I caught sight of his face, a tad bit stubbled and lips parted almost in wait. He must’ve been closer to Rob’s age than my own.
I raised a brow when he didn’t offer me an answer, tilting my head in turn. “Or, is it a gift of some sort?” I dragged out.
With a blink, he seemed to stand a little taller and I noticed he only had an inch or two on me.
“Er, no.” He muttered, before mimicking my head’s movement and propping his elbow up on the cassette stand almost as if he was attempting to suss me out. It took a second before he finally flashed me a slow but genuine smile, “Looking for a certain sound. Some tapes sound better than the actual record so I figured here would be my best bet.”
I hummed, crossing one ankle over the other. “The further back you go you can hear it, but most of their stuff's good either way.”
He smirked as he settled in further, looking out at me from under the brim of his cap, “Aren’t you meant to be selling it to me?”
My laughter couldn’t have been helped because he did have a point there, only… “It’s just not everyday that someone pops by to talk about music mediums with me.” I argued, all too pleased when I heard him give another hearty chuckle in reply, “So forgive me for my excitement.”
“Will do.” He simpered, eyes flicking down to where he still held the Evol tape, I reached out to tap its plastic top.
“That one’s known for its ballads, if that’s something you’re into, but,” I practically sang before peering round him to see if I could find the one cassette case I was thinking of, “If you’re wanting a specific sound then A Thousand Leaves is probably worth giving a listen to. Personally I don’t think it got the recognition it deserved, but there was a lot of experimenting whilst also managing not to betray their roots, you know? It’s softer, smoother, and the guitars are almost unmatched.”
When I went to hand it over to him just to have a look at, I found him already watching me with this inscrutable sort of expression. I merely brushed it off, figuring that he’d just leave if he did eventually grow tired of my ranting, then turned slightly when a round of whispers echoed around the tent. It seemed a few younger girls had wandered straight on over to the independent artists section I had placed by the front and were arguing over who got this one Sam Fender album.
I looked away and went to say something else to him, but the way he'd simultaneously moved to angle his back away from the cassette tapes when he too spotted the new arrivals wasn't lost on me. I frowned a tad, though chose not to comment on it. “So, what sort of sound are you searching for anyway?”
His gaze skittered away from the tapes to meet mine for a second and I wondered, briefly, why he’d so suddenly lost the relaxed stance he’d been in just minutes before, but then he said, “Anything I haven’t heard much of before, in truth.”
Mulling his words over I then gestured towards the stand. “Can I?” I gestured, and immediately he knew where I was going with it, jumping back a step to let me riffle through the lot.
I pulled out a couple I figured he might be into, simply going off of the Sonic Youth album he’d been eyeing, then a few of my own favourites, not that I’d let that tidbit slip.
Handing them over, I let him search through their titles and answered one or two questions he had for me. I had to admit he intrigued me a bit, I’d had music enthusiasts stop by and talk about this and that with me, even had a couple people who played and were searching for new stuff to learn and adapt, but him? He didn’t give much away.
“Any good?” I questioned once I'd wandered back over to join him. I’d only left him to look through the selection again when a customer had called me over towards the front, and was just tucking away the few extra coins I’d been given when he glanced up at me with a bright grin. I was a little surprised to say it caught me off balance a bit.
“I’ll take the lot.”
Trying my hardest not to outright baulk, I paused. “The lot?”
Sure, cassettes weren’t all that pricey, not compared to pressed records at least, but there must’ve been just over a dozen that I’d pulled out to show him and now he supposedly wanted to take them all.
He laughed after a moment, most likely at the baffled look that marred my face, and made to pull his wallet out of his back pocket. “That gonna be a problem?”
The question was almost argumentative, pushy even, but in a jokey sort of way, the kind you’d use when ribbing a mate, not now. Not with some stranger at a market stall. It only left me marvelling further.
“Might be, I’ll have to find a bag big enough to fit them all though.” I countered, hiding my own smile when I heard him laugh again whilst I spun around to fetch exactly that.
“Anything will do, love.”
I dipped my chin in a slight nod but didn’t go right for the usual stack of black baggies I used for most sales, instead I swiped one of the few printed totes I had hung up for trade and tallied up the price. “You gonna be alright walking the rest of the market stretch with that?” I teased him, looking up once the transaction completed to hand him the now very full bag only to find him already looking back at me.
He hummed around a sly smile, fingers meeting mine around the totes handle before they were slipping away again. “Think I’ll make do. Only came looking for these anyway.”
My brows jumped up in surprise as I watched him tuck his wallet back into the pocket of his jeans. “Everyone loves Portobello.” I murmured and his light laughter echoed around the market stall once more before he simply shrugged.
“Been a couple times before, and besides, don't reckon I’ll get a better deal than this, do you?”
My eyes narrowed when I smiled, humoured by his easy going nature and quick quips. I found that I wanted him to stick around a while longer, if only to solve the mystery he made. “No, don't reckon so.”
He lingered for a moment or two more, simply smiling at me and I found myself smiling back, before a gaggle of school kids wandered on over, loud and uncaring of the looks they garnered. They caught my attention too and I found myself reminiscing over years where I’d been much of the same.
When I glanced back over to him, I saw that he was gone. My forehead pinched in confusion and I glanced around to see if I could spot him in the busy crowd, but it had grown all too quickly again and appeared easy enough for anyone to get swept up and lost in.
I rocked back on my heels as I gave up the search, just before I was called over by one of the kids asking for a specific LP. I let it go, him and the strange encounter we’d shared, and went about the rest of the day just going through the motions.
By the time seven o’clock rolled around I was shattered and had already packed most of the stall away. I waited patiently for Rob to help me with loading the larger bits into the van, watching Nance for him whilst he wrapped up what remained of the fruit and veg, knowing he’d take most of it back home to his family. It was at that moment that I caught sight of something amiss in the vinyl cubby I’d used to hide those slipcovers in just before we'd opened.
I walked over and was more than a little dumbfounded to spot a cassette lying there on its side. Standing On A Beach. One of The Cure albums I’d mentioned to that bloke in the cap earlier, the very same he’d gone and bought, and the exact one I was more than sure I’d bagged.
I picked it up, feeling Nancy brush up against my side whilst Rob called out to say that he was just dropping off his usual round of goodybags to the nearby sellers. I waved him off, then looked down at the tape I held, pausing when my thumb caught on something attached to the back.
Flipping it over I found a quickly scribbled note, its corner tucked into the case's opening so that it would hold its place.
(It sounded like you enjoyed this one when I asked about it. Know it’s a first edition too, so I figured maybe you should be the one keep it.
- Matty.)
Matty.
“What you smiling at, weirdo?”
I startled at the sound of Rob’s usual drawl, head snapping over to my left to find him already trailing back towards us, a happy grin plastered over his face.
“Go on, tell us!” He ribbed, and now that he was drawing nearer I was quick to tuck the note into my back pocket.
“Nothing, just this tape. Figured I’d keep it.” I told him with a small shrug, clutching the cassette closer when he hip checked me in passing and bent down to give Nancy a good old stroke.
“Thieving your own gear! Wow, that’s a new low even for you.” Rob chuckled, shooting me a bright smile before he stood once more.
“Hush up, it’s a goodun. Forgot I even had it.” I defended, but he merely continued to laugh at me. Rolling my eyes, I shoved his arm lightly before I said, “Now be useful for once and grab the last of those boxes for us, will you.”
“Tetchy.”
I simply snorted, shaking my head as I moved to pick up my bag, clinging to the old cassette case for a second before finally dropping it inside.
“You coming then?”
With a deep breath I took one last glance around the stall and didn’t see anything that had been missed, so I wiped down my jeans and then gave Nance another pet, “Yeah, coming!”
…
My week continued on much the same after that. I worked in the local pub behind the bar when I wasn’t performing on the crate stage there and on my day off I took the tube over to see my mum and nan. They lived further East nowadays, closer to the clinic my nana hated but needed, and not too far from the street she’d grown up on as a girl.
Saturdays were my only market days, even though it was open most of the week. Rob usually did Fridays there and the rare Tuesday too, when he could be arsed. Though the rest of his time was used up by frequenting the old boxing club every other evening, training and helping out with the younger lot that liked to come in. I’d only been half a dozen times, but he was very much in his element there.
So in shorter terms, my week had slipped on by without much fanfare, which meant that Saturday had seemed to both crawl and shoot back around.
I opened the stall like usual, only without Rob for the first time in ages. He had apparently come down with some sort of bug or other that he’d gone and caught off of his nieces when he’d popped round to see them Wednesday afternoon- and well, he was a man, wasn't he? Which ultimately meant that he was dying.
He’d let me have Nancy though, seeing as she hadn’t been out very much since the cold had hit him. So the Alsatian had jumped in my van that same morning and had been as good as gold all day. To be honest, she was a much better seller than me and I could see why Rob always brought her along with him, people seemed to flock to dogs which in turn meant more sales for me.
I’d been fanning the crowds away ever since we’d opened, which typically only tended to happen during half term or school holidays, but nonetheless it was a more than welcome change after the crappy tips I’d garnered down at the pub the night before.
‘Cause well, since I’d dropped out of school I’d taken to performing there on the more livelier nights, a few covers, one or two of my own songs, and then I’d end the set and slide behind the bar to serve. Normally I was fine with that, the tips were often good when both the older folk and the younger lot rolled in, Friday nights especially. Only, there’d been a gig on down at the O2 so we hadn’t gotten our usual patrons in, and had instead been sacked with a couple of stragglers and a less than lively lot.
Still, today more than made up for it.
The sun was shining as much as it could do during a London March, the skies were blue although not completely clear, and the market crowd seemed to be in good spirits too.
Sy, who worked a couple stands down, had passed out a tray of coffees not too long ago, just after the lunchtime rush, and then Dianne and Reg had followed with some of their freshly baked pastries. They’d even thought to bring a little treat over for Nance too.
I'd just texted a picture to Rob to show him what he’d missed out on by having a case of man-flu and had just got up to toss the last of the rubbish away when I was caught off guard by an unexpected surprise.
“You!”
Matty, my mind supplied a half a second later. The same name that had been circling my thoughts since he’d left me that note the Saturday prior. I blinked at the sight of him. He was wearing a cap again, although this one was different, a dusky navy blue that he’d gone and tucked under a giant grey hoodie.
“Me.” He grinned in glinted amusement, jutting out his chin in a gentle hello. “Figured I might find you here.”
The snort I gave was unprecedented, “Oh, really? Wonder what gave that away.”
Matty smirked. Matty. It felt strange to put his name to his face then, even though it had been puttering around in my head like the bouncing DVD logo since the last time we’d met.
“Got any more tapes for me then?”
My eyes squinted in my attempt to dim my smile, not really believing that he was actually here, before I pursed my lips and tilted my head at him. “Might do. Take it you liked the last few?”
He hummed, smiling down at Nancy who’d trailed on over and allowing her to sniff at his hand. When she nudged his leg with her snout I watched on as he dropped into a crouch to give her a proper stroke. Nance seemed to be quite taken with him after that.
I propped a hip against the nearest vinyl cubby, crossing my arms over my chest whilst he replied, “They were good- helped a lot, in truth. You were right about the Roxy Music album, too.”
Chuffed with that, I shot him a pleased little grin.
“You’ll come to learn that it’s to be expected.”
“What, you bein’ right?” Matty wondered with a low laugh, petting Nancy’s head once more before he forced himself back up onto his feet.
“What I said, in’t it?”
He shook his head softly and I felt his eyes on me before I finally gestured him on over to the cassette stand. “I found a few new ones in the charity shop near my mum’s the other day, figured it’d be best to add to the collection after you nearly took the lot.”
“Wow, and she’s dramatic too.”
I swatted his arm thoughtlessly, then stilled the second I realised what I’d done, but Matty was either none the wiser to my momentary pause or just didn’t care. “That come with the job then? Having to be mouthy?”
My jaw dropped a tad at his sudden cheek and I tutted around the tiny beginnings of a stuttered laugh, “You’re brave. I’ll let you have that. But honestly, you’re probably not wrong there either.” We shared a chuckle, coming to a standstill by the tower full of tapes, “Most of this lot have to be gobby enough to have a shout at bagging any customers, especially when Rob’s around.”
“Rob?”
I titled my head over towards the next stall which sat empty, “Yeah, he works the fruit and veg. Might’ve seen, or rather heard him last weekend.”
Matty gave a slow nod, dragging his gaze away from where I’d pointed and back to the many cassettes I had to offer.
“So what're we looking for this time?” I smiled, thoughts on The Cure tape he’d gifted me, although wary to mention it too soon. “80’s Punk? Electro? Rhythm and Blues?” I dragged that last one out, enjoying the sight of his smile and how it only appeared to lift on one side before dimpling the corner ever so faintly.
“Give me one of your favourites.”
“Mine?” I blinked.
He hummed again, fingertips trailing over multiple rows of cases. I watched the movement, caught up in it in actuality, before I tore my eyes back over to him.
I caught him looking again, only this time around I didn’t much question it, not when the Saturday sun sitting high in the sky reflected so prettily in his eyes. Lightening them enough that they almost appeared to glow.
I followed through on the ask though, once I’d finally managed to get my head in working order and drag my gaze back towards the task at hand, pulling out an extensive range of cassettes, both singles and albums, for him to view.
Matty liked to talk, I quickly learned. He asked question after question, even when it seemed like he knew more than he was letting on at times, and he waited whenever someone else walked over, sitting amongst the back shelves with Nancy whilst I talked and sold a couple of vinyls.
Soon enough the sun had started to dip low in the sky and we realised that the hours had honestly escaped us. I was startled when I finally looked down at my phone to see that it was almost time to start packing away, having lost myself in the conversation we’d shared, or rather the debates we had both started over artists and genres, and what decade had done the most for music.
“Oh shit! I can’t believe it’s almost half six!”
Matty appeared to remember himself at my exclaim, pulling out his own phone to see for himself and blowing out a large breath when it rang true. “Fuck, ah, I didn’t even realise.”
He actually looked somewhat apologetic when he met my eye again.
I shook my head and waved him off, “You’re all good, actually one of the best market days I’ve had in truth, made almost double than what I did last weekend, even with the stash you claimed.”
With a soft laugh, Matty made to stand, holding out a hand to help me up too once he'd found his footing. I smiled softly at the offer and took it, perplexed by the careful callouses which lined the tops of his fingertips and the soft palm that accompanied them.
“You play?”
“Hm?”
My chin jerked over towards where an older acoustic hung on display in the stall across from mine, “Guitar. Do you play?”
His brows knitted together at the ask but he did eventually give me a low chuckle too, hand still holding my own. “Yeah, how’d you know?”
My eyes flickered up to find his and I gave a small smirk, unable to help myself. “Intuition.”
Matty scoffed in amusement, “Oh yeah? How’s that work?”
Shrugging a single shoulder, I stepped on closer to him, near enough that the brim of his hat shaded the top half of my face and the toes of our shoes almost aligned. “Just comes to me, I ‘spose.”
He quirked a questioning brow.
“What’s your intuition telling you now then?”
I bit down on the insides of my cheeks in hopes to contain my playful smile, figuring I’d best take the chance now while it was being handed to me. “That you’re gonna buy me a drink.”
“Am I?” Matty answered, voice dropping a fraction as a grin threatened to split his face.
Humming, I could only smile, eyes flickering between his own before they darted up towards the brim of his cap. With the hand not holding his, I reached up and settled it a little lower on his head, then glanced back down at that growing grin. “I mean, if you’re gonna keep coming back each Saturday then…”
His eyes narrowed a tad and finally he let go of the chuckle he’d been holding onto, leaning in even closer to me. “Intuition telling you that?”
“Hm, along with a couple other things.” I quipped, revelling in the hand that came to rest on the hem of my jeans. “So, that drink?”
Matty laughed, sweet and lovely. “Might know a place.”
“Good,” I murmured in the little space he’d placed between us, mouth almost touching his own before I was smirking and pulling away, “Guess you can help me pack up then.”
Matty huffed out a breathy chuckle whilst shook his head at me, watching as his hand slipped from mine. Though he wasn’t left lonely for too long, seeing as Nancy padded on over to him for another round of strokes whilst I set to picking up a horde of albums. “Tease.” He shot out, though he didn't look too disheartened.
I gave him a loud laugh in return, content with being labelled as such. “Well you’d best get to work then. Quicker we’re done here, quicker we can see about you and me sharing anything other than a drink.”
And he did, he set to work swift enough, the two of us slipping by one another with a gentle ease we shouldn’t have yet earned and sharing soft smiles in the lessening market bustle. All the while I continued to wonder and watch him, thinking back on the cassette he’d gifted me and the sudden fondness I’d found for him.
“Ready to go?” He asked me not long later and I found myself never wanting to say no to that pretty smile of his. So I just nodded and took the hand he held out, Nance moving to join us too before we finally ventured our way out of the market street. Matty asking me every question he’d been holding back the further we got, and making realise that I had a horde of my own.
#the 1975#matty healy#x reader#fluff#flirting#humour#fic#writing#plot#matty#the 1975 band#y/n#matty healy fic#matty the 1975#reader#oneshot#imagines#heyidkyay
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