#i wish i had more patience to finish this one
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𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖞𝖊 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘.
Chapter 15: Our honeymoon will shine our life long: its beams will only fade over your grave or mine.
A sequel to Whither is thy beloved gone? (AO3)
After the events of ‘Whither is thy beloved gone?’ Lord Astarion Ancuńin and his consort wife navigate their relationship anew. The ghosts of the past - his, hers, and theirs - threaten to unravel everything they’ve worked for.
The fast is broken.
Professionally edited and collaborated on by my dearest friend <3 @editing-by-night
Read on AO3.
Masterlist
Art by @lirotation
(For more smutty art, click on the AO3 link. Thanks!)
She was seated on the chaise, her back against Astarion’s chest, his legs on either side of her. She felt his fingers tug on the knot the lacing of her dress had become and heard his soft curse as he failed yet again.
They had settled against each other, gossiping about how Gale definitely looked a little healthier and how Minsc had eaten most of the macarons, when he had begun fiddling with the laces.
“Do you really wish to keep this, darling?” He was definitely irked; the knot had been eluding him for what felt like hours, and his patience was almost gone.
“I mean… probably? But I also won’t be wearing it ever again,” she admitted.
He leaned forward, his hair tickling the middle of her back. There was a loud ripping noise, and then a rush of cold air over her now-bare back. She turned to see him smirking, parts of the dress still between his teeth.
“I can’t believe you did that!”
He held up his hands in false apology, then spat out the fabric. “No use spending any longer than necessary on that nonsense. I’ve waited far too long.”
“Wait.” She held up a hand, stopping him mid-tackle. He eyed her curiously, eyes already half-lidded.
He put on a pout and sat back up, sighing loudly. “You’ve been pleading for my touch for a month, and now that we’re here…” he shook his head. “You do so confound me at times.”
“That’s not the point.” She looked to the bed, and gestured toward it. “I would like to finish what we were doing before you needed to stop.”
He blinked, considering her offer, then nodded. “If that’s what you want, then I shall oblige.”
She slipped off the remnants of the dress, a little pained at its loss. It had been pretty. Stepping out of it, she also tugged her underwear down and toed them off. Astarion coyly sat on the bed, then deliberately slid over to the middle of it, still fully clothed, resting his head on a pillow.
She let out a deep, exasperated breath; his amusement merely grew. “Scoot a little forward.” She slipped in behind him, her legs on either side of him. Immediately he leaned back against her chest, a soft, appreciative hum rewarding her as she wrapped her arms around his waist.
“This brings back memories,” he murmured, and she frowned.
“I’m sorry? Which…” she trailed off as he shared it through their bond.
He stumbled out of the tent, making a beeline for her, curled up by the campfire. His cock was painfully tight against his trousers, the friction as he walked not helping one bit.
He grasped her shoulder. “Ban.” The need was obvious in his tone. “I need- I need your help.”
She’d been half asleep. She turned to face him, surprised. “Astarion? Are you done?” Her eyes found the bulge in his trousers; that answered the question for her.
It had become a common nighttime event for them, Astarion and her curled up together. At times he’d bring her bliss, fingers and mouth more than enough to reduce her to a puddle of desire. He was still unable to be touched, but he felt desire; whenever he brought her release he’d always end up with a painful erection that needed to be relieved. Thus an arrangement had been made: she’d leave the tent and allow him his privacy, and he’d find her once he was done.
Apparently he hadn’t been successful tonight.
“Yes, well.” He gestured at where she was looking, a little too desperate to be embarrassed. “I tried to do it. Every single trick in the damned book, and…” he sighed, exasperated. “I need you to help me.”
She sat up, immediately awake. “This… this isn’t a joke, is it?”
He looked at her askance, and yet not surprised. Finally a chance for her to touch him, and yet she wouldn’t pounce at the opportunity. Another reason why he’d found giving his heart to her all too easy.
Astarion shook his head. “No. I think it’s time we try. I want… I need you to make me come.”
They entered the tent; Astarion closed the flap with one hand, the other reached for her. She turned and he pressed his lips to hers, frantic and tense, hips grinding against her helplessly. He was stressed, warring between the urge to beg for her touch and the urge to hide away in the recesses of his mind.
But he could not. Would not. Not with her. He pulled back with a pained groan.
“I’m not sure how we’re supposed to do this.” Whispered, as if this was a secret he wanted no one else to know.
He watched her think, fingers rubbing her chin. And then she spoke.
“Sit, and let me sit behind you, so you won’t need to see me or even think of me.”
“I’d want to-” he protested. She held up a hand and shook her head.
“Sit. And let me help.”
He acquiesced, swallowing nervously as she sat behind him. He reached back, grasping her hand.
He did the same in the present, tugging her hand to palm his cock. His mind, her mind, linked. Then and now, at times feeling like lifetimes apart, but in truth the same as it ever was.
He tugged his trousers down, feeling the air hit his cockhead. He placed her hand over it. “Slowly.”
She mirrored the movement, slipping her hand under his waistband, wrapping her fingers around his length. Her eyes were shut and she leaned forwards, whispering in his ear. “Thank you for reminding me. You were beautiful that night. Brave. I never told you, because I wasn’t sure how… you’d… feel…”
The last words were punctuated with long, slow strokes. He bucked upwards, mouth parted in a gasp of pleasure.
He wrapped his hand around hers, guiding her. Loose at the shaft, tighter at the head. She was a natural, as it turned out - the drag of her hand, so different and yet surprisingly welcome, combined with the fact that he couldn’t see her, and the knowledge that she was doing this for him… his tension ebbed, much to his surprise. Her touch was gentle, almost reverent, different from anything else he’d ever experienced.
She sucked on his ear and his back arched involuntarily. He groaned out, “That was the first time… in so godsdamned long.”
“I know. You were perfect. Open, trusting. You allowed me to see you. All of you.” Her hand sped up slightly, and he swore. He sat up, roughly stripping off his trousers, kicking them away. Settling on his knees, his fingers flying down the buttons of his doublet and flinging it away. He felt her kneel behind him, snaking her hand around to play with a nipple.
“Touch me.” He wanted it like this, wanted to thrust up into her hand and mindlessly rut, reveling in her words and that memory. She moved closer, flush against his back, and returned her hand to where he needed it most.
She touched him, thumb swiping over his tip, his head glistening in the thin shaft of moonlight-
He looked down, watching himself fuck her hand, hips moving languidly. She kissed his cheek and neck between words. “My sweet, loving husband. My lover, for all eternity. My best, truest friend,” her voice was a sensual whisper that set him alight. “My thiramin,” she added with a nip to his ear, and he moaned, hips jerking as that word pushed him closer to the edge. His cock throbbed, the pent up tension wanting, no - needing - to be released soon.
For once, it felt right. There was no need to perform. His grip tightened on her hand, their pace increasing. Loose at the shaft, tighter at the head. Just like that. No one else had ever cared, or even tried. No one did, not until her, each of her strokes just as he’d asked…
Still the same, still the same exact strokes, but now executed to a perfection she had honed over time. Her other hand caressed his balls, rolling them in her palm, gently squeezing between her fingers. All for him. For love. The loosening and tightening, the swipe at the tip, that slight caress at the bottom of his cockhead. Fuck.
“Of course,” she purred into his ear, licking around its edges, “who else would it be for, for what else? Only you. There was only ever you from the moment I saw you. There was only ever one person who I could love, who could be the one for me. Only one worth everything. You.”
He let out a needy whine. He moved her free hand to his chest, placed his over it, while his other hand fisted the sheets. His ass clenched as he drove into the circle of her hand, nothing held back and everything to give.
“Don’t stop,” he gasped. “Don’t ever stop.”
She kissed down the side of his neck, causing a shiver to run down his spine. “I’ll never stop. I’ll never run out of words to tell you how beautiful you are. How sublime it is to wake up to you every single day, to reach out and know you’ll be there. To know my life has purpose, has meaning. To give you joy, to give you the peace you deserve. To love you the way you should always have been, Astarion.”
He felt her gaze on him, watching him. A far cry from what she had done in the past, when she had kept her eyes away, respecting his privacy. He jerked his neck to meet her eyes, and the heat in them, combined with one final, hard stroke that was just perfectly timed with a squeeze at the tip - perfect, just perfect - made him come.
His reply disappeared in a string of incoherent moans as she pulled away slightly to take in the sight. “Perfect as ever. Equally as wonderful as that night you first taught me how to touch you, let me see you paint us with your pleasure. I’ll always be honored to be the one giving it to you.”
Eyes squeezed shut, body arching, his cock releasing what felt like copious amounts of come - no surprise given how long they had abstained - he was lost to her. He felt her stroking him through it, milking every drop from him, and he shuddered, knowing there would be more. Forever.
She grabbed an old shirt and wiped him clean as he melted against her. As soon as he was able, he caught her lips in a kiss, his tongue darting out to trace the seam of her mouth. It was sloppy, lacking technique, but he didn’t care. He would never have to care again.
He collapsed against her, panting. She reclined them both back onto the pillows, holding him tightly.
“That… was a surprisingly good idea,” she said. Her surprise made sense - the last time they’d touched minds in bed it had been too much, but it seemed like doing so under less intense circumstances was better.
“Of course,” he managed to say. “What am I, if not the source of the best ideas, hm? Especially in this field.” The effect he’d wanted his words to have was lost by the fact that he was still catching his breath.
They laid together in silence for a while, her slipping out to lay on her side, head on his shoulder. His leg was comfortably wedged between her thighs, and they held each other close.
Ban reached over to the nightstand, picking up a towel. Astarion cracked open an eye, the corner of his lip curling as he watched.
“Attentive as ever,” he murmured. He made a move to grab it, intending to clean himself up, but she snatched it away. He watched, transfixed, as she licked the tip of his cock, giving it a very gentle suck, cleaning off his seed. But as soon as he closed his eyes, expecting more, her tongue was replaced by the towel. He let out a small sigh of feigned exasperation.
As soon as she was finished he flipped them over, his eyes alight with mirth and desire alike. “Now… I do believe it’s my turn to have my wicked way with you.”
Astarion caught her lips in a passionate kiss. His hands slid up to cradle her head, holding her close as his tongue explored the depths of her mouth. Slowly, he trailed kisses down her neck, nipping at the sensitive skin before moving lower. His fingers traced patterns on her body, exploring every inch of her with a reverence that belied his eagerness.
He ran his fingers along the curve of her collarbone before trailing them downwards again, skimming across the swell of her breast. He took one of her nipples into his mouth, suckling gently while he teased her other nipple with his fingertip. He then kissed his way back up her chest.
As she arched her neck in anticipation, he leaned in close, allowing his breath to tickle her, but stopped when his lips were inches away. She huffed in frustration and he chuckled, reaching over the nightstand. He’d had Shadowheart’s gift sent to the bedroom the moment she’d told him about it. It was kept in a long, narrow box, and he held it out to Ban.
“Shadowheart’s present,” she said, swallowing. “I don’t know if I should be afraid or excited.”
“You do know that the moment you wish to stop, all you need to do is say the word, right?” He opened the box, as she nodded. “In any case, I doubt you’ll want to.”
Ban gulped. A riding crop. Sleek, soft black leather wrapped around the main rod - a tantalizing sight. She watched Astarion lift it out of the box, his long fingers wrapped around the handle. He gave it a small test, snapping it against his other palm. He hummed approvingly.
“Not bad. I’d have chosen better, but this will suffice.”
His eyes flicked over to her, and she watched as they shifted from that cocksure gaze to one of concern. “Do you trust me?”
There was no hesitation. “I do.”
Satisfied, he glanced at the headboard. “Turn around. On your hands and knees, please, darling.”
She turned, facing the headboard. Her palms were flat on the bed, her ass raised up for his perusal. His finger traced a path from the back of her leg to her ass cheek.
“I’m surprised,” she teased. “I expected something far rougher than-” Her words cut off in a low groan as he grabbed her ass, nails digging in. At the same time he ran his tongue along her entrance roughly, a long lick to her clit and then a quick thrust inside her. She bucked, wanting him to keep going, but he’d already pulled away.
“Needy,” he chided, the amusement plain in his tone. Before she could respond, his palm slapped her cheek, not too hard, but enough to sting. The impact and surprise made her bow forwards, a low hiss escaping her.
He rubbed the spot where he’d hit her; she was sure the skin was red. “Was that alright, love?” She turned her head to see him staring at her, biting his lip.
“More than alright.” She shifted her hips, trying to get his hand on her core - a little too slow, as he had anticipated the move and had already taken his hand off.
He tutted softly and then flicked his wrist. She felt the impact a split second later, a sharp sting on her haunch that barely registered as pain. The realization hit her at the same time as his thumb pressing against her clit, rubbing it in insistent circles - he was being very careful.
His thumb dragged back, then plunged inside her, eliciting a gasp. He pulled his thumb out and sucked on it, her taste always delicious and almost as good as her blood. He kept his eyes on her as he did this, allowing her to see his body's response, his cock beginning to harden again.
“Delicious, as always,” he said, licking his thumb clean. “I missed tasting you. Your slick on my tongue, the taste and smell of you all over my face… Gods. Not many things could compare.”
“And what would?” Ban watched as he lifted the crop, staring at her backside, trying to find a suitable target.
He smiled. “Your blood.” The crop made impact on her thigh, stronger this time, and slightly painful. She hissed, hips bucking, wishing his hand or mouth or cock - anything really as long as it was him - was there.
“Fuck, Astarion!” She glared at him. “As fun as this is for you - I need more.”
He rolled his eyes. “And now insolent to boot?” He struck her again, on the other leg this time - and this wasn’t a practice hit. Ban yelped, feeling heat bloom where it had made contact. ”You were saying?”
She glanced at his face. There was excitement, arousal, even perhaps a hint of bloodlust as her blood reddened the impact points. But through it all she saw him, watching her, minding her responses, ensuring she felt fine.
Emboldened by this, she stared him down. “So are you going to spend all night whipping me or actually fucking me? Because- ah!”
This time she saw Astarion put his whole arm into the motion, the crop smacking loudly against her flesh. Pain bloomed, throbbing and insistent, and as she groaned and buried her face in a pillow he dove between her legs, devouring her core.
She rocked backwards, seeking more of his mouth, and he obliged, tongue laving everywhere and anywhere he could reach. The crop was discarded, forgotten for the moment as he sank his fangs into her ass, biting with the fervor of a man starved.
“We have time,” he growled in between bites, marking her flesh in numerous spots. His tongue, hot and wet, licked the rivulets of blood as they meandered down her skin. Fingers sank into her, and she realized he wasn’t holding back, their thrusting insistent, curling at the end and hitting her spot with every pass. Her back arched and she bit back a low whine. Astarion’s pace was merciless, the drag of his fingers against her walls combined with his other hand on her clit and his fangs sinking into the meat of her ass were a maddening combination.
He shifted, shuffling closer to her, stroking himself. Ban couldn’t help but lick her lips at the sight - finally - after so damned long. He lined up, rubbing himself along her entrance and then against her clit, the delicious flick of his cockhead was too little for how heated she was.
“Stop dithering,” she grumbled, “and decide if you want to put it in or not.”
He paused, and tilted his head. “I would have done so, if you had asked nicely. As it stands…” he drew back, and she let out a frustrated whine. She bowed her head, knowing what would happen before feeling it - the soft whistle of the crop as it flew in the air - then the hot, painful and yet pleasurable sting of it against her ass. “Again, my dear. You were saying?” Perfect, calm innocence, as if he was merely sitting drinking tea and not whipping his wife.
She hissed, then turned to glare at Astarion, who was tapping the crop on his palm. “Please, my love. Fuck me.”
He made a show out of mulling it over, seemingly careless. The insistent throb of his cock told a different story, however. He fisted himself, stroking once, twice - Ban relished the look of wanton lust on his face as he stared between her legs - and then let go. “I think I could stand to wait a little longer.” As she opened her mouth to protest, he smirked. “You’ve yet to learn patience, my love. Not to worry… I have forever to teach you.”
He flipped her over, and she swallowed as he flicked the crop against her clit. The spark of pleasure that rippled through her was surprising. His eyes darkened as he registered her response, his gaze becoming predatory. He held the crop aloft, settling on his thighs. Waiting.
“Astarion, I swear…”
“Hm?” Another hit on her inner thigh, so close but not there. She whined, all pride gone. “You’ll have to ask. Properly.”
“Please. Again.”
To her delight he obliged, the crop smacking her lightly, exactly where she wanted it. The next moment, he slipped two fingers inside her, the other hand dropping the whip to grip her waist, holding her firmly in place. As she began to fuck herself on his fingers he slowly added a third. The stretch was intense and pleasurable; she rocked harder. His hand pushed against her, stilling her movements.
“Let me. You’ll have all the fun you long for after I’ve had mine.”
She was about to ask him what exactly he had in mind, when he slapped her clit again, softly this time. She moaned loudly and the fingers inside her pumped harder, making her head spin. She looked down to see him smiling, the role dropped.
“You’re taking my fingers so well,” he crooned. His eyes flicked over to the abandoned crop. “That, too. Thank you for trusting me.”
“Would I have married you if I didn’t?”
He crawled up, pressing his lips against hers. He ground his hips against her thigh, a low moan caught in his throat, and he pulled back slightly to pant against her ear. “It was wonderful, my love. I really do appreciate that you allowed me this.”
Their lips met again, slow and unhurried. His hand slipped down, stroking himself slowly as he groaned into her mouth. She wrapped her legs around his waist, locking him in place.
“I missed you,” she whispered, and he nodded, kissing his way down her neck to her breasts.
He circled a nipple with the tip of his tongue, then wrapped his lips around it, sucking hard. His hand gripped her ass, right where she’d been struck; the warmth of his palm over the stinging welt felt wonderful. His cock pressed against her belly insistently; she could feel it, heavy and hot against her skin.
“I’m honestly tempted to take you right here and now, but…” He forced himself away from her, breathing heavily.
“What did you have in mind for tonight, exactly?”
He hesitated. “I mean, it is a special occasion, but Shadowheart’s idea was too tempting to not try.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You also wanted to know if I’d trust you with it.”
“That, too,” he conceded.
“Well now that we’ve tried it, what else did you have in store for us?”
Astarion thought about it for a heartbeat, then sent the idea to her in a series of images. She shivered, then nodded. “Perfect. Yes.”
Before she could say anything further he was off, heading for the trunk in the far corner of the room. He returned with his hands full.
“We bathed, but I figure using a scroll as well would be wise.” He handed her a bottle of oil then set the prestidigitation scroll and the other item on the bed nearby, then met her gaze.
She beckoned him close, and they laid facing each other, tangled in each other’s arms. He watched as she thoroughly oiled her fingers, anticipation coiling in his belly. When she was ready, he crooked his leg up and out, allowing her space. Ban’s fingers traced a path down his torso, leaving a slight sheen of oil in their wake. She continued her exploration, fingers trailing down his side to his hip, and then down the length of his cock, slipping between their bodies with a deliberate, gentle slowness.
He closed his eyes as she found her target and began tracing circles with one finger, shuddering at the first touch.
“You won’t need to do as much,” he murmured. With how aroused he was, he had no doubt it wouldn’t take long.
“I know. Not our first time, love.”
He laughed, and she pressed a kiss to his forehead as she slipped her finger in, the suction tugging her deeper. He jerked, hips thrusting into her. “More,” he croaked, eyes tightly shut.
She sank her finger deeper, slowly; perhaps too slowly - he reached down, grabbing her hand and pushing her in further. A low moan escaped him as she finally found his spot. He pressed himself closer, his whole body flush against hers, chest heaving.
She began to thrust in and out, caressing his spot each time. His hips rolled with every pass of her fingers, rubbing his cock against her, the precum smearing against her arm and stomach. She wouldn’t mind if they just did this - if she gave him ecstasy and they rolled over to sleep after - the sight of him taking his pleasure was more than enough. He was more than enough.
Her thoughts were interrupted by his voice, breaking the silence. “No - don’t.” He opened his eyes, drawing in a shaky breath. “I want to be buried deep inside you when I come this time.” His hand rested on her neck, thumb tracing her jawline, his expression dark and hungry, pupils blown wide. “I want to give you everything… I want to mark you. I want you dripping with my seed, I want to see it, want to smell it on you.” His tone grew low, insistent. “Mine. Forever. No one else can have you, and no one else can have what I’ll give to you.”
She shivered in anticipation. “Yes. Mark me both ways, then - inside and out. Everywhere. I want to be covered in you, filled with you, in every way possible. I am yours. Always. From the day we met, until forever,” she vowed, adding a second finger inside him. His eyes fell shut again, lips parting ever so slightly with a deep groan as he adjusted to the stretch. He nodded, accepting her suggestion.
“Indeed you are.” He growled, softly, emphasized by a hitch of his hips, cock grinding against her. “Mine to take and to love. To cherish. My very own.”
With her second finger fully inside, she began to move, slowly stretching him further.
He moaned, reaching down to touch himself. She ran her tongue over his neck, feeling the muscles of his abdomen ripple as he sank onto her fingers with a hurried eagerness.
He was silent for a while, the only sounds he made were soft whimpers and unintelligible words mixed with gasps. There was a hard nip to her throat as he approached his peak again, his hand frantically stroking his cock. He grabbed her waist, pressing her flush against him as he rubbed himself on her belly.
She felt his length, throbbing and so very hard, pressed flat against her stomach as he fisted the root. Ban held him close. “Go on,” she purred. “Make me yours, Astarion.”
His only reply was a low whine, his eyes meeting hers as he rutted against her, his thrusting losing its rhythm and becoming frantic. Ban stroked his spot, and her other hand caressed his ear, providing the last push he needed. Astarion jerked, hissing, and Ban felt him spill his seed onto her stomach, hot and slick. He pressed his head against hers, breathing hard as his hips stilled. She snuck a quick peck against his lips, and waited.
Finally, he cleared his throat. “I think… I’m ready,” he murmured, and she removed her fingers. He watched hungrily, eyes roaming over her glistening stomach, as she replaced her fingers with a glass plug. It slid in slowly and Astarion grunted in pleasure as it settled inside him. Their eyes met, his jaw clenching and releasing with a low groan. She used the scroll while he acclimated himself to the fullness, watching his face as he bit his lip and ground against her.
He pushed her shoulder, guiding her onto her back, then straddled her, his hands running down her arms. With one quick motion he grabbed both wrists, pinning them above her head. Shifting to a one-handed grip, Astarion sat up, taking a long moment to look down at her, her body streaked with the evidence of their union.
“Before we do this, there is something I feel you should know. No matter what you think, or what anyone tells you - you are beautiful.”
The tone was insistent, a little stern, but completely sincere, and it almost made her believe him. She could only shake her head as he trailed a finger through the spend on her stomach, slowly painting his way down to her mound, his eyes locked on hers. He grasped himself, rubbing against her clit to bring himself to full hardness. The soft, velvety feel of his cock and the slippery feeling of his spend smearing all over her made her squirm. “Astarion - please.”
He slid lower, his head at her entrance, his cock throbbing with anticipation. But he held back, eyes still locked on her face. “Say yes,” he commanded. “Say you believe me.”
She was incredulous. “Really - that… that’s what you want me to do, before I can finally have you?”
He nodded, slowly grinding the head of his cock against her entrance, but never sinking in. “It shouldn’t be so hard, should it? Now say it, or we’ll both be unsatisfied for the rest of the night.”
“Astarion. You don’t mean that…” she trailed off as she saw just how serious he was. He sat back, stroking himself with deliberate slowness, drawing her attention.
”You can have me deep inside you, filling you up with every thrust, spilling inside you…” he rocked his hips, fucking his fist, allowing her to see his length sliding in his grasp. He let out a breathy moan. “All you have to do is say you believe me. That you are beautiful.”
She shook her head again. “I can say it with ease - I believe you. But speaking those words doesn’t make it any truer.”
He settled on his haunches, thinking. “I could show you how I see you. How the sight of you eclipses even the miracle of daylight. How touching you feels better than that first kiss of sunlit warmth after centuries in the dark. How tasting you is better than anything I’ve ever tasted in my long life.” As he said this he inched closer.
”You could, yes,” Ban interjected, “but I suppose there is something else you could do.”
He leaned over her again, cock in hand, lining up. “Indeed there is. I could make you feel how much I love you instead.”
With those words he buried himself in her in one hard thrust that left them both breathless. His ass clenched, the piece inside him providing a wonderful fullness that complemented the warmth now enveloping his cock.
There was little need to wait. He pressed her down against the bed, then placed his palms flat on either side of her, bracing himself. He rolled his hips in a slow grind that he knew would rub against her clit; her answering moan was exactly what he had anticipated. The feeling of her slickened abdomen sliding against his skin, knowing he’d put it there and that he would fill her with more soon, gave him a deep sense of satisfaction. His.
“I love you,” he breathed, against her ear. “I have loved you for far longer than you’ve known, perhaps longer than even I’ve known.” He pressed his forehead against hers, hips moving faster, feeling the drag of her walls with every pass, the feeling of fullness peaking with each forward thrust. He pulled out most of the way, watching her track his every move, then sank back in with a ferocity that demonstrated just how much he wanted her to feel his words and the depth of his devotion.
“And I you,” she whispered back, her words rough with pleasure as his cock sank back in, precisely angled to slam against her spot. “And I feel like I should be the one-”
”Hush. I promised you my words; allow me to speak them.”
She fell silent, and he pecked her lips. “That’s my girl.” He pushed her leg up, spreading her further apart and sinking himself deeper. A quick, ‘Be a dear and hold that for me, will you?’ and he resumed his pace. He began to push harder, hips shifting from a slow grind to an increasingly vigorous speed. He angled himself carefully, knowing he’d succeeded when he was rewarded with a wonderfully tight clench all around him and the sound of her whimper.
“There are endless ways to tell you exactly how I adore you. From your body - every curve, every line of it, driving me insane with want this past month…” He kissed her jaw, her neck, her collarbone as he spoke, hips maintaining their punishing pace. Her quiet moans were a delight to his ears, and he intended to have more. He felt her readjust her grip on her legs, and gave her nipple one last bite before he sat up, grabbing each ankle.
“I wanted to be lost in you, lost to the heights of pleasure you always take me to…” he slammed his hips forward, his ass clenching around the plug so pleasantly as he buried himself in her again and again. “To feel you clench all around me as I bury myself in you again and again, until I have nothing left to give. But I relearned something this past month, something I’ve always known but something you likely need to be reminded of.” Another hard thrust, and she whimpered, all restraint gone. She reached between her legs, rubbing herself. He fixed his gaze on her face, drawing pleasure from her pleasure. “I don’t need… sex, to drown in you. When I say you’re beautiful, my love, I mean your body and your face, but I also mean your heart - the one that shelters mine.” They locked gazes, his insistent, hers a little unsure.
Astarion touched her mind, a request to be bound together as both reached their peak. He sat up. He knew it would be intense, his mind bracing for it as she finally allowed him in - and they became one.
They felt his hands wrapped around her ankles, her hand on her clit tracing pleasurable circles. He could feel the mounting pressure in her just as she could feel the pressure of the plug, the aching pleasure in his belly, his balls tightening, the urge to release building. The drag of her walls against the sensitive head of his cock, her slick, tight heat, clenching all around him. He let go of her ankles and she immediately held her legs apart for him, knowing what he wanted before he could even consciously pass the thought along; it made him chuckle. He laid over her so that they were eye to eye, seeing nothing but each other, feeling nothing but each other, thinking of nothing but each other-
He kissed her hard, holding himself up, hips now frantic and his rhythm slowly failing as his pleasure built. She wound her legs and arms around him, tugging him close, enveloping him in her. His tongue pushed in, savoring her, tasting himself through her mind, both irrevocably linked body and mind and soul.
She was close; the gentle bucking of her hips and the frequent clenching all around him both wonderfully pleasant and also exhilarating. Her panting increased, the soft and hot breaths tickled against his ear. His sweat mixed with hers, the heat of his body bleeding into her. Every stroke he made was met by an upwards thrust from her. He felt his own climax rushing in, the flames in him reached fever pitch as his balls tightened and that pleasant fullness shifted into intense, delicious urgency - he knew he was at the precipice.
”Mark me, Astarion. Make me whole,” she whispered, and he did, crashing his lips against her as he finally let go, his cock releasing hot streams of seed deep within her. He felt her climax as well, his pleasure pushing her off the edge, hers mixing with his in every clench around him and in every wave of euphoria bleeding through their bond. For a moment there were no lines between them, blurred out by pleasure and the sheer intensity of their love. There was only them.
Neither moved once their orgasms had subsided, remaining wrapped up in each other. Astarion had collapsed on top of her, his head buried in the crook of her neck. He nipped her there, once. The feel of her stroking his back with her fingertips sent a pleasurable shiver down his spine.
”Considering how much of a mess we’ve made of the bed today,” he mused, “would you consider tonight an exception to your bathe-before-bed rule, love?” His tone was singsong, lightly mocking.
A frankly asinine rule, and one she didn’t follow herself, the hypocrite. But he allowed her her idiosyncrasies, as she allowed him his - matching outfits, often heavily embroidered, his preference for red sheets and drapes, or that atrociously large statue of him in the garden that had replaced Cazador’s. He’d insisted on it.
“Well. Stoney and Boney did do a good job,” Ban responded. He started, belatedly realizing the link was still open.
“It isn’t hard to do when they simply have to recreate perfection.”
She ruffled his hair. “And you think I’m a hypocrite?”
”Ban.” He exhaled. “The number of times I’ve seen you sit on the bed, unclothed, yes, but not having bathed yet… I’ve held my peace.” He was holding back laughter, trembling a little as he stifled it.
”You’re not wrong,” she admitted. “But I’ll allow it for tonight. Tomorrow the bathing rule is back in place.”
“Of course it is. I wouldn’t expect anything less from the esteemed Ban Glasscraft, she who makes the most nonsensical of rules and decides not to follow them herself,” he drawled, fingers dancing across her collarbone. As he finished the sentence something dawned on him. She wasn’t-
“Ban Ancunín, now,” came the reply, slightly amused. “It took me a moment myself.”
“I daresay this name suits you better.”
”And removes all traces of that wretch from my life, too.”
Astarion pressed a kiss on her sternum. “Not tonight, darling. They’re to hold no place in your mind - forever, if I had any say, but we have to at least deal with the mystery of your dear brother first.”
Ban looked down at him. He was still buried against her neck, not looking at her, but his thoughts prodded hers for a response. She could feel his mind loosening its hold - he was falling asleep - but was waiting for her answer.
”No, not tonight,” she repeated.
He hummed approvingly. “Then rest, my love.”
The rest of his message was sent in fleeting thoughts as he slipped into slumber.
Rest. We are home.
#astarion#astarion baldurs gate#baldurs gate astarion#bg3#bg3 astarion#astarion x tav#astarion fic#astarion ancunin#astarion bg3#bg3 fanfiction#baldurs gate 3 astarion#ascended astarion#astarion acunin#astarion romance#astarion x mc#soft ascended astarion#ascended astarion x f!tav#ascended astarion x tav#ascendant astarion#vampire ascendant#astarion baldurs gate 3#astarion art#bg3 fanart#bg3 tav#bg3 fanfic#bg3 fic#baldurs gate art#baldur's gate 3#baldurs gate fanart#baldur's gate fanfiction
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. . . (🍷) ֶָ֢ 𔓘 TONIGHT BE MINE AGAIN ; a nakahara chuuya drabble. ❞
˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . here ya go nonnie angel. part one of your request tho i hope you don't mind me changing your request up a bit.
˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . tw ; fem!reader, ballerina!reader, angst, fluff (debatable) , exes to lovers.
chuuya preferred watching hiphop more. he listened to classical from time to time but it wasn't his first preference and the same goes for ballet. as a executive he was in many instances where he had to watch ballet with the port mafia clients of targets or even at parties etc.
he appreciated the dancers but never felt himself hooked to a performance from start to finish, until now. it may be biased of him but chuuya couldn't look away from you as you twirled on the stage with a illusion of being as light as a feather, like rain falling on the earth grounds.
he watched with awe in his eyes and accelerated heartbeats how you danced, how you twirled and did splits. if he dies now, he would die with less regrets then normal for he feels as if being blessed by an angel herself.
as soon as your performance ended, chuuya stood up and rushed towards your dressing room. no security guard being able to stop him from seeing you though they tried but were stopped by his men.
your performance tugged at his heartstrings and filled him with a fear of someone else coming in and sweeping you away in their arms, he couldn't allow that to happen.
the mafioso stopped infront of your dressing room (he had bribed someone from the staff to give him this information) and took a deep breath. he can't do this. fear and anxiety suddenly claws at his heart and makes him stand still for atleast ten minutes. as the minutes passed, the fiery passion in his eyes got dimmed by precipitation of sadness, leaving a hauntingly sad look in its place.
he stood quietly. you two broke up due to his inability to balance work and life but how was he able to balance when the ratio of the two was so uneven from the beginning?
chuuya was pulled out of his trance as you opened the door to step out, freezing as you see him standing there. your eyes slowly look over his features before slowly traveling downwards towards the bouquet of flowers he was harshly holding.
any anger in you evaporated the moment your eyes fell on chuuya nakahara. it's as if he is the rain washing away your fire of wrath. you slowly lean against the doorway, "it's been a long time."
"indeed." chuuya breathed out as he shakily raised his hands to give you the bouquet he brought for you and watched nervously as you looked surprised, slowly smiling slightly as you plucked a flower out of it to tuck it behind your ear before looking at him. the breakup, you wish you could undo it.
"i thought you were busy." you quietly tell as this is the reason for the separating factor between you two and so, it felt bitter to speak about it. chuuya felt his heart sink yet he pushed back the sorrow to lean forwards.
"i told you i would be damned if i don't attend the ballet you were literally working your ass off for." chuuya whispered, caressing the edge of the flower petals with his nail as he looked intensely at you. "whether you are mine or not." he continued.
you looked at him with conflict in your eyes, he remembered the promise and fulfilled it yet wouldn't things have been better had you two were still together?
chuuya's gloved hand grabs your cheek softly and he whispered, "free? let me take you out for the dinner i promised."
chuuya almost leaned in on instinct to kiss you like he would do whenever he showed infront of your apartment after a mission. a bouquet of flowers in one hand while he used to hold your cheek with the other as he kissed you while standing outside of your apartment, not even having the patience to enter your apartment first. but things aren't the same now and so cuuuya stopped from leaning down.
you sadly nodded. and you didn't even want to think of how different the events would've been if you hadn't agreed, hadn't gone to dinner with him, gotten tipsy and hadn't spilled out your feelings and made it up with him.
the rain never washed away the fiery passion in his eyes, it only dimmed it to allow chuuya to rest or he would've burned in his own fire. and had the breakup not occurred, chuuya wouldn't have felt this satisfied in having you in his arms again after a long time. never again though, chuuya thought as he stared at your sleeping form in his arms, he will be damned if he ever allowed you to go away again.
━━━━━━━ 🎀 .
#⋆˚࿔ nie#for you angel 𝜗𝜚˚⋆#⋆·˚ ༘ * eyes on me angel ༝༚༝༚#bsd#bungou stray dogs#bsd x reader#bungou stray dogs x reader#bsd x you#bungou stray dogs x you#bsd x y/n#bungou stray dogs fanfic#bsd fanfic#bsd x female reader#chuuya x reader#bungou stray dogs chuuya#bsd chuuya#chuuya nakahara#chuuya x fem!reader#chuuya x y/n#chuuya x you#chuuya fluff#bsd drabbles
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Deal (Bucky Barnes Fic)
(Blunt Part 4, trust me the smut is VERY much on its way)
Part 3
Summary: Y/N finally shows, and Bucky feels more than rewarded for his patience
~
Being a soldier, you have to be sure.
You have to know your enemy, your team, you have to have the right skills and the right temperament for the job.
Is your aim dead on, do you know your location, did you check your six… every damn time you have to be one hundred percent sure.
Bucky knew right then, whiskey in hand with Tony at his side—he was damn sure that red was her fucking color.
That suit hugged her in all the right ways, hair down, heels high… and her eyes, staring right at him.
Bucky gulped.
“There’s my boys.” She called as she sauntered over.
“Do my eyes deceive me,” Tony purred, “or has Y/N L/N come out to play?”
“Oh I’ve come for much more than that.”
She perched herself on the barstool beside him, crossing one leg over the other.
A signature of hers, Bucky had come to notice.
“I need a whiskey, and I need this god awful music changed.”
Tony waved to the bartender, tapping his glass for a refill. Holding up two fingers, signaling for another.
Looking at Barnes in his shell shock, Tony signaled for 3.
“My, my. Awfully bossy now that you’re off the clock.” Tony said.
She rolled her eyes, “I never pegged you to be against role reversal.”
“Role play I’m all for. I’ll let you play the captain tonight if it’ll get you to come out more. Speaking of…”
He smacked Barnes on the back to wake him the hell up.
“Bucky here is playing the role of depressed loner tonight, which is really riveting for all of us.”
She chuckled, and Bucky reminded himself to kick the shit out of Tony during training tomorrow.
Her eyes landed on him again, and she smiled.
“No ‘hi’ for me?” She purred.
Dear god, what was happening?
“You finished work?” He choked.
The bartender delivered their ryes, and Y/N swiftly twisted the glass to her lips.
“Honestly?” She asked.
Bucky nodded.
She smiled, “No.”
Both men went wide eyed. She had to be joking.
“Are you shitting me?” Tony asked.
She laughed, “Don’t look so surprised. You begged me to come.”
“Of course I did. I just didn’t think you’d have the willpower to put down your damn tablet.”
Watching as she downed her glass, Bucky couldn’t muster a word. Who was this woman in front of him?
“Well… I thought about what you said. I never show, but I’m always good with the final details. I can’t control the outcome by rushing through the project. Handing something in a week before the deadline isn’t going to resolve things faster. Besides…”
She tapped her fingers on the top of the glass, and the bartender moved to make her another drink.
“I have more pressing matters here.”
Bucky couldn’t stop searching her eyes. Sam labelled her right a month back, Little Miss Wild Card.
“Like what?” Bucky asked.
Something in her eye turned. That glimpse of darkness he’d only seen when he took her glasses, standing inches apart from one another. His head was spinning.
“Well for starters, drinking Wilson under the table. Where is he?”
As if on cue, Sam came up behind her with a beer in hand.
“You wish.”
He slung an arm over her shoulder, and Bucky felt his stomach turn.
“I told you if you came, we were going hard. I’m keeping my eye on you to make you keep your promise.”
She grabbed her fresh drink and swiveled in her seat.
“I always keep my promises, you know that.”
Sam rambled on, and Bucky finished the drink given by Tony.
It’s not like it would do much, but he wouldn’t let booze go to waste.
Bucky realized too late how harsh the drink was. That was not whiskey. He looked up across the bar, seeing Thor at the other ended.
Thor raised his flask, pointing back at the soldier.
Hm, nice to know the God was looking out for him.
“Hey. Eyes on me, Sergeant.”
Bucky turned, Y/N looked at him pointedly.
He’d never get used to that. This different look she had about her, intense and daring.
She grinned cheekily, leaning in close.
Sam and Tony had begun their own challenge of drinking, yammering on about the happenings of the last party…
Somehow for a moment in this crowded room, he had her all to himself.
“What’s this I hear about you being a loner?”
Bucky pursed his lips, debating if honesty was his best policy. She’d blown off work to be here and gone so far as to admit it. He should return the favor.
“Honestly,” he leaned in closer and rested himself against her shoulder. “I was worried you wouldn’t come.”
Her gaze didn’t falter as she hummed, “Like I said to Wilson, I always keep my promises.”
“You didn’t.”
That phased her, tilting her head as Bucky twirled his glass.
“You told me you’d come when you got everything done, yet you wrote it off to be here.”
He ducked his lips to her ear, something he dare not try since his strong attempts a month ago. The liquor was giving him his confidence back.
“What are your pressing matters, Y/N?”
She shocked him by turning her chin towards his, lips now a fraction of a distance apart.
She lingered, and he reveled in her proximity. What he would give to sit like this with her the whole night…
“I’m not one for subtlety. And with your actions this past month, I can tell neither are you.”
He was entranced by her voice, hypnotized at its sultry slowness. His heart pounded as he tried to read her, subtle-avoidant though she said, he hadn’t been able to pull much from her before tonight. A compliment, her riding declaration and her proposition of praise had been divine deliverances in themselves. But he worried that she was playing him, getting him back for his blunt flirtations.
No. She wouldn’t do that, she was honest. Though she was harsh and sharp, she wasn’t cruel.
Still… he feared he would lose out on something he never really had.
Bucky looked down as her hand reached for his thigh, and he tried to stifle his sigh.
“I remember everything you’ve said to me, James. The praises of my character, my beauty, that you like a woman that takes charge, that you want to add me to your work out routine…”
She slid her hand up his thigh, his breath grew shaky.
“I thought it was just harmless flirting. I couldn’t tell what you really wanted.”
She rose from her stool, slowly reaching for his belt.
“I couldn’t let you know that I’ve wanted you since the first moment I laid my eyes on you.”
Now Bucky couldn’t breathe. He grew vastly aware just how many people were in the room. Sam and Tony only a few steps away, they could turn at any moment and see her wandering hands…
Jesus Christ, he wanted her now.
“But now I know. I came tonight for you, I don’t want to dance around it anymore James.”
And then she slid away.
It was like electrocution, his spine rippled and his skin was on fire. He almost rose out of his seat.
“So here’s what we’re going to do,” She waved to the bartender, another round for the four of them. “You and I, are going to socialize, dance, tell stories, drink…”
She slid their new glasses towards them.
“At midnight, I’ll say I have to wake up early and leave. You’ll leave shortly after, head to your room and you’ll find me there.”
Bucky bit the inside of his cheek, hiding his lustful smirk.
Lifting her whiskey up, and urging him to do the same, she smiled.
“Then for the rest of the night, I’m yours.”
She clinked her glass against his, “We have a deal, Sergeant?”
He stopped himself from reaching out for her, instead mirroring her as she finished her glass.
“Deal.”
~
Tags:
@pigeonmama
@dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable
@dumb-ass-3
@cuddlycalcifer @babyblue-07 @babybluereads @lonewolf471 @agni-l @niiight-dreamerrrr @julipmoon @fandomsfallnomore @elliee1497 @godspeedlover @sexwithhiddlesbatch @annestine @shower-me-with-roses @yougottalovefandoms @rebekahdawkins @gentlybarnes
Bucky tag list
@emmabarnes
#marvel#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes smut#bucky#marvel fics
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And I'd give up forever to touch you
(You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be)
#i wish i had more patience to finish this one#i really like them but im phisically unable to render stuff lately#i refuse to use out of touch for them#its a cute song ok i admit it but tiktok has been flooding me with it and i got annoyed ig#but guess who has a lot of songs about not touching and also angels????#is me#go goo goo dolls#AkiAngel#アキ天#aki hayakawa#hayakawa aki#angel devil#fanart#artists on tumblr#chainsaw man#csm#chainsaw man fanart
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for the drawing requests luz dressing up as eda for halloween if u feel like it xoxox
I ABSOLUTELY FEEL LIKE IT this was such a delightful request omg. Featuring some bonus clawthorne/Noceda family doodles because they come as a set. Do Not Separate Them
[ID: three images of digital fanart for the owl house. first image shows Luz dressed up as Eda's season 1 design, with her hair slicked back. she's posed mid-twirl, holding her dress in one hand, saying "surprise! I'm you. What do you think?". Next to her is a cartoony doodle of an emotional looking Eda.
The next image is a doodle of Luz and Eda dressed up as each other, looking at each other happily from a side view, labeled "they're matching".
Third image is a sketch page of Luz, Eda, Hunter and Lilith. It features a grinning Luz leaning on hunter saying "hey there sibling! How's my best brother doing?". She's labeled as "being a shit". Hunter looks unimpressed but has a thought bubble that says "sibling..." with a heart. Eda and Lilith are smiling, dressed as Luz and Hunter respectively. Eda says "remind you of anyone?" End ID]
#the owl house#toh#luz noceda#eda clawthorne#hunter toh#lilith clawthorne#i forgot to add in mentions/ideas of halloween but it's fine. you get the gist#that image of luz dressed up as eda at the top was. genuinely so difficult for me to draw i redraw it more times than i care to admit#like scrap it and start over#but like. it was good for me it was character building and i think it turned out cute anyway#hhh i always feel the need to cut down my toh image descriptions because i got used to doing very detailed ones for podcast fanart#cause it was more normalized there and ppl generally had more patience for a lot of words in an image id#and i get so nervous that my lengthy descriptions put ppl off rbing my stuff#(NOT that it matters i am much less insecure in my need for online validation than i used to be-#-i simply wish ppl would take a chance on posts with length-ier ids. it's an accessibility measure and all that)#(but hey I'm not your dad and don't control what u do or don't do)#anyway NO I didn't forget abt me asking for reqs i just need to finish up the second one and that was enough to get my brain working again#there's juice flowing in there now! i have drawing ideas!! huzzah!!#which is all i actually wanted from this specific bout of drawing reqs was just a creative jumpstart#sorry if this is a bit sketchy- that's all i was really up for when i made this lol. i think it's cute and that's goof enough#anyway yeah I'm gonna go read before sleeping now byyyeeee <3
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.
#i feel so fucking tired#so empty and hollow#while also feeling so tense bc of everything that’s been bubbling inside me#what i haven’t had energy to look at for the last couple of months#and i feel so fucking lonely#it’s just so fucking hard when you have to everything alone and nobody to complain to nobody to hold you#although even my cats annoy the fuck out of me nowadays#bc of all the tension built up in me#i just have no patience whatsoever#wish someone would take care of me for a change you know#that’d be nice#had a couple of break downs today#one of those you when you end up crying bc you spill some milk on the counter and that becomes your tipping point#so yeah#that’s where i’m at#i just hope that next week i’m gonna finish the last job i had since october#and then finally will have no jobs that are hanging above my head#for at least a day#i know it’s worse when i have no jobs#and god help me i’ve experienced it more than enough#but i just want to not stress over my schedule every single day for a change now#and actually take care of myself instead of existing inbetween one work session and another and filling that time with treats#that will only make me feel better on a superficial level#that was probably the longest tag post i’ve made btw lol
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Cramps
Summary: After going off of birth control, your periods have been a little more intense than you're used to. What starts out as a stressful morning between you and your husband, very quickly turns into a night that bodes very well for the both of you.
Paring: Husband Frankie Morales x Wife f!reader (no use of y/n)
Word Count: 5.4K on the dot (idk how we got here)
Warnings: SMUT (18+) PERIOD SEX, unprotected p in v sex (do better, but also they want a baby so), vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving, again, you're on your period but our pussy eating king Fransisco Morales is an unstoppable force of nature), creampie, praise kink, big fat nasty breeding kink (it's who I am now, I won't apologize for it), Frankie's got a NASTY mouth, Frankie is the best husband, reader is on her period/has period symptoms, talks about family planning/not being on birth control, use of nicknames (hermosa, quierda, cariño), reader has no physical descriptions besides that she can wear Frankie's clothes
A/N: Well... This was gonna be a drabble... and then it was just gonna be fluff.... and then it was gonna be just some implied smut... and now, we're here??? Idk, don't ask me 🥴 self indulgent bc I just finished my period (and my periods have been whack since stopping bc) and what better way to heal myself than imagining what Frankie would be like taking care of you 🥺 also pls be nice to me this is my first time writing Frankie and I'm v nervous EEK I hope you enjoy!!! sorry Javi bby, I still love u
Bitchy.
You wished you had a better word to describe your mood for today, but truth be told, bitchy was by far the most accurate.
You and Frankie were hoping to start trying for your first baby soon, and had recently gone off your birth control after your doctor had told you it may take a few months for your body to regulate itself before you had a better chance at getting pregnant. Your doctor had also warned you about many of the symptoms and side effects that stopping the pill could have, one of those being becoming more aware of your emotions and mood swings throughout your cycle. That, you were prepared for.
What you were not prepared for, was to feel like an absolute psychopath in the days leading up to your period.
Your cycle had been wonky the past few months as your body began to sort itself out- you had a feeling your period was probably about to start soon, but hadn’t thought much about it, considering your terrible and grouchy mood had overshadowed it. You had tried your best to pull yourself together the past few days, chalking up your grumpiness to long hours at work, or just being in a weird funk, but today, you woke up with a fire in your gut, ready to fight, and poor Frankie was about to be your punching bag.
Sweet Frankie had been nothing short of a saint when it came to just about anything, but dealing with your newly heightened emotions right before your period really should have earned him some sort of Presidential Medal of Bravery, considering that your newly discovered highs and lows while PMS-ing were just as frightening as any time he had spent during his time in the military.
Unfortunately for your husband, despite his best efforts, he had been on your nerves all morning. Not because he was really doing anything wrong, but because the little things that you were normally so good about letting go, or the patience you frequently had seemed to have flown out the window, and you were convinced that if Frankie even breathed the wrong way, you were going to absolutely lose it.
So when unsuspecting Frankie decided to ask you a simple request about after work plans, there was very little he could have done to prepare for your response.
“Morning, Hermosa.” Frankie cooed, emerging into the kitchen, his hand rustling through his untamed, sleepy brown curls as he let out a yawn and a stretch, the slight softness of his stomach peeking out between his t-shirt and pajama pants as he raised his arms above his head before settling behind you. He wrapped himself around your waist, pressing a gentle kiss into your shoulder as you finished putting the last of your lunch in your bag for work, trying to force yourself to focus on his sweet good morning, rather than the empty bowl of cereal in the sink that had greeted you first thing when you woke up, already starting you off on the wrong foot in your already irritable mood.
“Morning, babe.” You grinned, forcing yourself to forgo the annoyance hidden behind your smile as you pecked a quick kiss on Frankie’s lips before gathering the rest of your things for the day scattered across the kitchen table. “Sorry, I didn’t have time to make you breakfast this morning because I was running late, but there’s extra scrambled eggs on the stove if you want them. I’m really sorry, Frankie, I gotta head out, have a good day, I’ll see you later okay?” You sighed, slinging your work bag over your shoulder, your hands full of your coffee mug, water bottle and keys, your cluttered grip and running behind schedule only adding to your frustration.
“All good, Querida, no worries. Hey, actually baby, before you leave,” He paused, setting down the coffee mug he was just about ready to take a sip of, as if a little lightbulb had just gone off in his brain, “do you mind picking up stuff to make that really good buffalo chicken dip for Benny’s tonight? I told ‘em we’d bring like, an appetizer or something, if that’s okay.”
For Frankie’s sake, you couldn’t have been more thankful that you had your back turned to him, because if looks could kill, Frankie Morales would have been a dead man.
Every rational part of your brain knew that even though his request perhaps wasn’t the best timing, stopping by the store and making dip to bring to Benny’s for game night really wasn’t that much time or effort out of your day. But today, it seemed like every part of your brain but the rational one seemed to be functioning properly, and the raging, irrational part might as well have heard that Frankie wanted you to prepare and cook a Thanksgiving meal for 74 after you got home from work.
You took a deep breath, your grip tightening around the items in your hand, praying with every bone in your body that someway or another, you had misheard your husband.
“Tonight? As in, like, today, after I get home from work?” You questioned, trying to do your best to keep your tone from sounding too condescending.
“Yeah, we don’t have to be there until 7, I just don’t think I’m gonna have time to since I probably won’t be outta work until 6:30.” He shrugged nonchalantly, taking another swig of his coffee
Oh yeah, you’d heard him right.
You let out a deep sigh, even more over dramatic than you had intended it to be, arms crossed over your chest and stark frown spread across your face as you turned towards Frankie.
“Oh, perfect! That’s a great thing for me to find out about at 7:45 A.M. the day of, Frank!” Your voice oozed with ferocious sarcasm, now slamming your things back down onto the table to run your hands over your face. “No, that’s great, because there’s nothing I wanted to do more than to come home and make buffalo chicken dip instead of all the other shit I needed to do today before we left! Amazing! Thank you!”
At this point, you were almost positive that if your eyes rolled any further, they’d be in the back of your skull, letting out another angry huff as you shook your head at Frankie, who was looking absolutely petrified as he leaned back against the counter, eyes darting to the floor to avoid yours, running his hand over the wispy curls at the nape of his neck. Frankie began to stammer, trying to defend himself from your wrath.
“Hermosa, I’m- I’m sorry? I know it’s last minute, but you normally make it every time we go over there, I just- I figured it’d be easy for you to do? You can get something else, or I can try to stop by the store really quick on the way home, I just might-”
“Nope, you want buffalo chicken dip, apparently I’m making buffalo chicken dip!” You groaned, collecting everything back into your hands, swearing under your breath as you tried to balance everything in your grip. “Jesus, okay, I need to go to work, just- I don’t even know. I gotta go, Frankie.”
“Querida, I-” Frankie pleaded, beginning to trail behind you as you made your way to the front door.
“Frankie, whatever, it’s fine! I’ll make the stupid dip! I have to go to work, I’ll see you later.” You could feel the muscles in your jaw beginning to clench as you gritted your teeth, trying with everything in you to keep from exploding as you headed out of the house. Without even a kiss goodbye, you left Frankie in the doorway, watching you throw your things in the car and slam the door behind you as you drove down the driveway.
But as soon as you were on the road and your house was out of view, you could instantly feel the tears beginning to well in your eyes, slowly streaming down your cheeks as you began to sob, wondering why you had ruined the morning over as stupid as an appetizer, and even worse, that you had been a complete asshole to your husband about it.
You couldn’t have been more thankful that work had been quiet today- no meetings on the schedule, and no one coming to bother you, leaving you plenty of peace and quiet to continue sulking and brooding in your unpleasant mood.
Right around lunch time, you found yourself eating alone in your office, wishing your lunch was about ten times saltier and chocolatier than it was, crying to yourself as you watched a video of a dog meeting its new human sibling for the first time.
Just as you were beginning to pack up the rest of your lunch and start back up with your work, you felt a terrible twinge in your lower stomach that had you just about keeled over in pain, followed by that all too familiar feeling in your underwear.
Frantically scrambling, you reached into your bag to pull out a tampon, hurriedly shuffling to the nearest bathroom, only to reveal the murder scene equivalent as you pulled down your pants.
Your period had come.
In that moment, as much as you were dreading the pain and misery that was the next few days to come, you couldn’t also help but feel a slight sense of relief, realizing that you were in fact, not actually a crazy person for the way you were feeling, you were just PMS-ing out of your mind. You couldn’t also help but feel absolutely awful for your unjustified freak out at your husband this morning, your heart sinking with guilt as you made your way back to your desk, immediately grabbing your phone to text Frankie.
“Hey… I’m so sorry about this morning. What you were asking me to do wasn’t a big deal at all and I totally freaked out on you. My period just started, I think that’s why I’ve been such a bitch this morning. I’m sorry, Frankie, I love you.💕 ”
It was almost instantly after you hit send that the reply bubble popped up in your message, your heart pounding anxiously waiting for your husband’s reply.
“It’s okay, I kind of had a feeling 😉 babe, you weren’t being a bitch- I should have talked to you about it sooner. Shitty timing on my part. I’m sorry. I love you too, Querida.”
Before you could even respond, another message popped up below his first.
“Don’t worry about going to the store or making anything tonight. I already texted Benny and told him we couldn’t come. We can spend the night in, just the two of us. I can pick up takeout on the way home if you want and we can pick a movie to watch.”
You could feel your frustrated facade beginning to melt away as your lips shifted from a pursed frown to a small smirk reading Frankie’s text, your thumbs quickly tapping across the screen of your phone to reply.
“Thank you. You’re the best.”
“Of course. Hopefully none of your co-workers ask you to make buffalo chicken dip before you leave 😘”
“Oh shut up, meanie.”
“Just kidding. Have a good rest of your day, love you. 💙
“Love you too. 🤍”
Although the rest of your day was nowhere near enjoyable, given the fact you felt like you were getting punched repeatedly in the uterus and your personality resembled that of Oscar the Grouch, you knew that your night in with Frankie was your light at the end of the tunnel, and only needed to make it a few more hours before there was at least some sweet relief finally headed your way.
Despite the constant stabbing pain in your lower stomach and back, your drive home from work had you in much better spirits than your drive there, now not only having an explanation as to why you had felt like such a mess, but also knowing the rest of your night was going to be dedicated to nothing but cuddling up in your comfiest clothes and snuggling up next to Frankie on the couch.
As you pulled down your street, you were surprised to see Frankie’s truck already parked in the driveway, wondering what he was doing at home almost an hour earlier than he had mentioned he would be this morning. Gathering all of your things out of the back of your car, you quietly entered your home, confusion scrunching in your brow as you called out for your husband.
“Frankie? Babe, are you home?”
Before you could even kick off your shoes or hang up your coat, Frankie had already appeared at the front door to greet you, boyish grin spread across his face as he grabbed your things out of your hand, carefully placing them on your entryway table before engulfing you in a bear hug, his broad arms wrapping around your body and pulling you closer into his chest.
You could feel all the muscles in your body instantly relax as your face rested against the soft cotton of his t-shirt, soaking in the familiar woody and savory scent of him, letting yourself be consumed by every ounce of his embrace.
“Hi Hermosa.” Frankie cooed, pressing a soft kiss against your temple, running his hands up and down your back as you looked up at his sweet brown eyes shining down at you.
“What are you doing home so early? I mean, not that I’m mad about it at all, I just thought you said that you had to work until 6:30 and-”
“Told my boss I had to head out early for a family emergency.” Frankie smirked, laughing at you playfully rolling your eyes from his so-called excuse.
“Last time I checked, your wife being a grump because she’s bleeding out of her cooch doesn’t classify as a family emergency, Fransisco.” You teased, giving him a little shove, making the two of you giggle in tandem.
“Eh, close enough. I’m really sorry about this morning, querida. I was a dick for not talking to you about plans beforehand and just assuming you could go do it. It wasn’t fair of me.”
“It’s okay, Frankie. What you were asking for wasn’t a big deal and I made it one because I’ve been a psycho all day. I’m sorry, too.”
“Well,” Frankie paused, pressing another kiss onto your cheek, the width of his palm gently cradling your jaw as you stared up at him and his sympathetic smile, “number one, you are not a psycho. I can’t imagine how uncomfortable you must feel right now, so even if you were, I wouldn’t blame you one bit. Number two,” he paused again, shifting his kiss from your cheek to your lips, his thumb delicately swiping across your skin, “you’re my wife and I love you more than anything, and if I can take a little time off to help make you feel better, it’s the least I can do. So, why don’t you go change into something comfortable, and when you get back down here, I will have pizza and ice cream, whatever movie you wanna watch, and a back rub ready for you, okay?”
“Okay. Thank you, Frankie. God, you’re the best.” You grinned, pressing up on your tiptoes to let your mouth meet Frankie’s, the plush pout of his bottom lip swiping across yours, lingering just long enough to let the butterflies in your stomach begin to swirl, heat creeping through your cheeks in the tenderness of the moment.
“Of course, cariño. Te amo. Now go get changed.” With one last peck on his lips, you wiggled out of Frankie’s grasp to make your way up the stairs, grinning to see that your husband had already set out your favorite of his oversized sweatshirts and sweatpants, neatly folded on the bed for you to grab, quickly shuffling out of your uncomfortable work attire and exchanging it for Frankie’s clothes, your smile growing even wider at the feeling of perpetually being wrapped up in the essence of him.
As you made your way back downstairs to meet Frankie, you found your heart skipping a beat again to see that the better part of the living room had been turned into a cozy sanctuary- lights dim and candles lit, both parts of your couch squished together, filled with every pillow and blanket you owned, and Frankie sitting in the middle, giant box of pizza, tub of ice cream and your handsome husband waiting for you.
As if your emotions hadn’t already taken you on a wild roller coaster of a ride today, the adorable sight in front of you had you on the verge of tears again, wiping the wetness pooling in your eyes with the back of Frankie’s sweatshirt sleeve drooping off your arm before crawling into the blanket fort he had constructed for the two of you.
“Frankie… You didn’t have to do this.” You sniffled, curling up next to Frankie as he draped a blanket over your lap and his arm over your shoulder, passing you a plate with 2 large pieces of pizza.
“It’s the least I could do. I put on Hercules for us to watch, but if you wanna-”
Before you could let him finish the rest of his sentence, you were running your hand across the scratchy stubble of his cheek, pulling his face closer to yours as you planted a kiss on his lips, feeling your smiles melt into one another's as your mouths met. “That sounds perfect. God, how’d I get so lucky?”
“I could say the same thing, mi amor. You ready to start the movie?”
“Only if you also pass me that tub of Ben and Jerry’s to go with my pizza.”
“I think I can make that happen.”
About half way through the movie, pizza and tub of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, your and Frankie’s bodies were tangled together in a sea of limbs and blankets, contently snuggled up with one another as Frankie’s fingers traced lazy circles on your back and shoulder as you laid against his chest.
“You doin’ okay, querida? Need anything?” He cooed, his soft voice dancing in your ear. As if it weren’t enough that you had already been through the extreme highs and lows of almost every feeling under the sun today, the one you hadn’t been until this very moment was insatiably horny. While the mood swings you had mentally prepared yourself for with your new period symptoms, the constant other kind of ache between your legs you had not, and feeling the low rasp of Frankie’s words tickling your neck had been just enough to flip the switch to make you desperately needy.
Letting your leg slide over Frankie’s lap, you pushed yourself up to straddle his hips, running your hands through the dark curls of his thick, brown hair, and down his broad chest, your fists bunching the worn fabric of his shirt in your hands as your mouths became a mess of tangled tongues and teeth.
“I need- fuck- I need you, Frankie, please.” You pleaded between muffled moans, his tongue swiping in the parted space where your lips melted together as one, instinctively beginning to grind your hips into his, feeling the bulge in his sweatpants starting to grow beneath you.
“Fuck- You sure, baby?” Frankie rasped, reactively bucking up into you, making you whine as his hands dug into your hips, guiding you as you swirled over the tented fabric of his bottom half rubbing against your covered core.
“Please. Please, Frankie.” You were all but whimpering at this point, nodding frantically in approval as Frankie used the grasp on your hips to guide you onto your back, making you cock your head in confusion as Frankie scampered to the other side of the couch, back turned to you as he reached over the ledge, pulling out a thick, black towel with a smug grin on his face. “Did you seriously have a towel ready incase I wanted to have sex?” You snorted, shaking your head at Frankie, now crawling back to you, caging your body under his with an electric kiss as he shimmied the towel underneath you.
“Maybe.” Frankie smirked, breaking from your kiss to let his lips trail down your body, his hands toying with the edge of his sweatshirt covering your body as he pushed it up your stomach and chest, helping you to shimmy it over your head, leaving your top half exposed. He gently palmed at your breasts, taking each pebbled nipple in his mouth, sucking and flicking at the buds with his tongue before letting his kisses travel down the soft skin of your stomach and waistband of your sweatpants. The clothes on your bottom half soon joined your sweatshirt in a crumpled pile as Frankie nestled himself between your legs, gently nudging your hips to let your thighs part, revealing your pussy, slick and shiny for him with your juices.
Even though Frankie would eat you out for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and a late night snack, you couldn’t help but feel guilty that he still found himself between your legs during your time of the month, considering any other man probably would have scoffed at just the thought of going down on you on your period.
But, then again, Frankie Morales wasn’t just any other man.
“Frankie, baby, you know you don’t- Oh fuck!” You gasped, cut off in surprise as Frankie’s tongue licked a long, broad strip across your cunt, making you shudder in pleasure as his head perked up, revealing the devilish grin spread between his cheeks watching your chest already heave in heavy, shaky breaths.
“Oh I know I don’t have to, sweet girl. But I want to. Relax, baby, lemme take care of you.”
Before you could agree, protest, or anything in between, Frankie was back between your legs, arms wrapped around your thighs as they draped over his broad shoulders, digging his fingertips into the plush softness of your skin, dragging his tongue through your folds with the exact grace and precision that he knew made you fall apart in seconds.
With flat, firm presses of his mouth latched against your clit, you could already feel your bottom half writhing under him, the perfect pressure of his tongue dancing around your sensitive bundle of nerves making you moan in pleasure. As your head dipped back, falling into the couch pillow behind you, your hand shot down, fingers burying themselves in the wild curls of Frankie’s hair, tugging at the thick ends for any sort of release as he worked relentlessly at your aching cunt.
“Fuck, Frankie, oh fuck- Fuck, baby, you feel so good.” You whined, your praise only intensifying the way your husband drank every ounce of you up, two thick fingers now gently pressing inside your heat, curled deliciously as they rocked in and out of your entrance, nudging against your g-spot.
Frankie had spent enough time worshiping the altar that was your pussy to know exactly how to make you crumble beneath him, leaving you chanting his name like a prayer as his lips latched around your clit, ferociously sucking as his fingers prodded at the soft, spongy spot that made your cunt begin to clench and heat in your belly pool.
“That’s it, Hermosa. I know you’re close, baby girl. Let me feel you, mi amor. I’ve got you.” Frankie groaned, his words humming deep in his chest, placing chaste kisses on the inside of your thighs before drinking you up like a man starved, adding a third finger into your heat, the added fullness and stretch, combined with Frankie’s relentless pace, enough to have the tingle that had been building at the base of your spine now washing through every inch of your body. Your orgasm began to crash through you, your pussy fluttering as pleasure radiated in your veins, making you cry out Frankie’s name over and over.
Frankie worked persistently through your high, only pulling back after making sure that you had cum again, sitting back on his haunches as he admired the blissed out and ragged mess you had become, your pussy slick and swollen as your chest rose and fell in wrecked inhales and exhales, trying to compose yourself from the Frankie and fucked you senseless with just his tongue.
Wiping the slick and juices glistening in his mustache with the back of his hand, Frankie tugged the sweatshirt covering his own body over his head, followed by his pants and boxers, freeing his painfully hard cock as it slapped against his stomach, his tip red and leaking with precum as his broad body loomed over yours, sucking and nipping at your pulse point as you whimpered his name.
“Frankie, holy fuck.”
“Such a good girl for me, querida. You still want me to fuck you, baby?” He mewled, the metallic and tangy taste of you still lingering on his tongue as he kissed you, laughing to himself at the way you found yourself frantically nodding your head to tell him yes before your words could.
“Jesus Christ, yes. Fuck, please Frankie, I need to feel you.”
Reaching down to stroke himself, he lined his cock up with your entrance, easily sliding into your heat and brushing his tip against your cervix, taking a moment to let you adjust to his fullness. The whine you let out as Frankie filled every inch of you was nothing short of ragged, digging your nails into the skin of his broad back as he ever so slowly began to thrust in and out of you, dragging his length against the slick of your cunt.
“Oh fuck me- Fuck, you hear how wet you are for me, sweet girl? This what you needed, baby? To fill up that pretty little pussy of yours?” Frankie groaned, letting his forehead rest against yours, his sweaty curls now starting to stick to his skin as he pounded into you, rutting his hips at a faster and faster pace.
“It’s all for you, Frankie- Oh shit- only for you.” You moaned, your fingers wrapping around the width of his biceps, flexing deliciously as he hovered over you, sucking you in to a long, deep kiss, fucking into you over and over.
Even with the years between you and the ring on your finger, the possessive part of Frankie’s brain would never get over how the primal and all consuming feeling of knowing you were his, forever, your words shooting straight to his dick as a low groan rumbled in his chest, silently cursing to himself through gritted teeth, watching you fall apart below him.
Readjusting himself, Frankie sat back on his heels, hooking his arm under one of your legs to drape it over his shoulder, the new angle stretching you out in a way that had you seeing stars as Frankie rammed into your g-spot and began thumbing at your clit, still swollen and sensitive from your first orgasm. You could already feel the heat beginning to bloom in your belly once again, your leg beginning to tremble hoisted over Frankie’s shoulder as he dug into the meat of your thigh with a bruising intensity.
Just like he would never get over the fact of knowing you were his, Frankie would never get over watching you begin to crumble under his touch, taking the time to memorize every twitch and twinge your body made as you came closer and closer to your end, always savoring in the moaning mess you’d become as you fell apart around him.
“Fuck, Frankie, Fuck, oh my god- I’m close, baby.” You were all but rambling at this point, your brain barley stringing together coherent sentences as you felt your cunt beginning to clench around his cock, the lewd noises of your moans, wetness and skin slapping together as your hips met filling the room at a borderline pornagraphic rate.
“Meirda, I’m not gonna last much longer, hermosa. Fuck, where do you want me, baby?” Frankie growled through gritted teeth, his eyes locking on yours and telling him everything he needed to know without you saying a word.
“Inside. Fuck, please Frankie, I want you to cum inside me.”
Your confirmation was all it took to flip the switch in Frankie that sent him absolutely feral, the thought of being able to actually knock you up now that you weren’t on birth control anymore, giving you a baby, proving another way to the world to mark you as his? The thought alone was enough to have him bracing every bone in his body to keep him from cuming right then and there.
“Fuck me. You want me to fill you up, querida? Fuck me full of you? Fuck a baby into you? That's what you want, huh?” Frankie moaned, grunting with each thrust of his hips, his rhythm becoming more frantic and shaky as he felt your pussy begin to flutter around him, pressing the pads of his fingers against your clit, swirling them in frantic circles to make sure you came before he did.
“Fuck, yes. I need you too, holy fuck- wanna make you a daddy, Fransisco.”
You could feel the tightly wound knot in your core starting to snap, your legs trembling and breath shaking as Frankie fucked into you, finding yourself on the verge of collapse- but not before Frankie’s filthy mouth got the last word in.
“Jesus, fuck- Fuck, hermosa. That’s what you want, pretty girl? I swear, I’m gonna fuck myself so deep into you it’ll fucking take. Get you fucking pregnant tonight.”
That was all it took to have you orgasm come crashing through you, every inch of your body radiating with pleasure as you came, crying out Frankie’s name as you gushed around him, your eyes practically rolling to the back of your head, your mind going blank and numb, the only thing grounding you were the incoherent ramblings of your husband as he followed suit behind you.
“Fuck, that’s it, baby. Fuck, I’m gonna cum too, fuck, fuck-ahhhhhh.” With one final thrust, Frankie could feel himself spilling against your walls, coating you with his spend as his cock pulsed, making sure he milked himself of every last drop deep inside your cunt before even thinking about pulling out. Moving your leg, Frankie slumped into you, splaying himself across your body as your chests rose and fell in sync, laying in silence as you let your breathing steady, coming back down to Earth from your high.
With a shallow grunt, Frankie carefully pulled his softening cock out of your heat, leaning back to admire the mess he had made between your legs, his cum dripping down the inside of your thighs and pussy glistening with the mixture of your arousal. You let out a soft hiss at the loss of Frankie’s fullness inside you, only to quickly be replaced by a gasp as he buried his two fingers back into your cunt.
“Gotta make sure every last drop stays in there, hermosa. Gonna keep you full of me all night, baby.” He mewled, carefully gathering his spend and pushing it deep inside you, making you whimper as he slowly pulsed his fingers back and forth, pulling away his hand to lean back into your body, engulfing you with an electric kiss.
“Holy fuck, fuck me. Jesus, Frankie.” You laughed to yourself, your head dipping back on the pillow as you buried your face in your hands, at a loss for words at how euphoric you now felt in your post colital bliss.
“Wow, again, already? Gotta give me a few after that querida.” He smirked, making you roll your eyes at his joke as you playfully swatted at him, making him lean in to pepper your body with kisses, leaving you squealing and squirming in delight.
“You are absolutely ridiculous, Fransisco Morales. If you keep fucking me like that, then yeah, absolutley.”
“If I keep fucking you like this, I have a very hopeful feeling that next month, we’ll have something else to care about besides period cramps.”
“I swear to god, if one of my cravings ends up being buffalo chicken dip once I’m pregnant, I’m gonna be pissed.”
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thinking about kuna's gf trying to convince him to let her paint his long nails 😃
✩ ‧ ˚. — tags ⋮ fem! reader, pure fluff, heian! era sukuna, panting his nails, meanie kuna but he’s a softie, petnames: little one, woman, girl.
“no.”
a downcasted frown drags against your glossed lips once you sigh. sitting on no one other than sukuna’s lap, you huff out a single vexed breath. “huhh. what do you mean no, i didn’t even ask my question yet.”
“exactly,” he replies in a low voice, leaning back against the ancient, comfortable throne. for a fleeting moment, dark, sinister eyes stare into yours before he cocks his head. “you’re gonna ask me another one of your imprudent questions.”
“kuna, just let me ask you the question,” you protest, straddling the king of curses— it was never a dull moment with him, regardless of how grumpy he turns out to be. knowing sukuna, he’s almost always grumpy. his eyes gaze into you a bit longer and he then brings his thickset upper arms to cross near his chest, a cute pout on his lips as he waits for you to finish speaking. “pretty please?”
“…….fine,” he gives in, aware that you were probably gonna persist on asking him for who knows how many more times. with a sigh, he tilts his head at you. “what is it you wish to ask me, little one?”
smug grin and all, you pick up his broad hand that was so much larger than yours, brushing a thumb against his wrist before cooing, “can i paint your nails, sukuna?”
“no.”
“sukuna!”
he’s leaning back against his throne, the well raised chair sitting up all high and mighty—one of his arms repose near the lower part of his torso and wraps around your hip, pulling you closer.
“you already know what my answer was gonna be, no?” and this time, you give him a pout.
dewey red-shot eyes peer into you for a lengthy amount of time before he groans. that cute little pout of yours, you never fail to make everything so hard for him. “hmph. why do you want to paint my nails? they’re clearly already painted, woman.”
he’s trying..
you hold back a giggle before bringing one of his hands up to your face.
glimmering eyes focus on his nails, how naturally long they were— he had a point though, they were pretty much already painted. full on richly black, the tips of them were oh-so sharp he’d be able to cut about just anything. still, you wanted to paint his nails yourself. you couldn’t really come up with a good enough answer, so you just shrug.
“i just want to,” you hum in a soft voice, intertwining your fingers with his.
he scoffs, showing little to no reaction. with a puny eyebrow raise, you feel his right thigh start to gradually bounce. “please, ryooo,” you mutter, tugging your eyebrows into a pleading, needy furrow. “this way, we can match.”
“goodness, you’re so annoying,” he grumbles, watching your grin stretch as you dangle your own hand up in front of his face.
dark cruel eyes stare at your nails, observing how well manicured and painted they were. he sighs again, uttering out a raspy, “very well,” and he sits manspread, reaching for a nearby tiny table that resides against his infamous throne. “you may paint my nails. just this once.”
with a precious giggle, you grab about two bottles nail polish from your pocket, gently placing his hand down against the porcelain glass table. he’s keeping a sharp eye on you, rolling his eyes at how ecstatic you were on this. the way you treated his hands with such care—that cute little smile never once departing from your sheeny lips,
the moment you twist off the black tight cap that sticks onto the bottle like glue, the strongly loud aroma of the polish hits against his flared nostrils.
it’s heavily strong, the familiar scent of acetone wafts against his domain entirely.
“stay still, ‘kuna.” you whisper, gathering a good amount of polish. for a moment, you swear you could have heard a low growl escape from him.
oh, you were testing his patience.
you were testing sukuna ryōmen’s patience and he was letting you.
“good, good.” you give him a closed-eye smile.
“do not praise me,” he snarls, and he’s already embarrassed. his tone made an attempt to come across as more stern and assertive, but it was just so cute.
with daunting, glaring eyes, he watches silently at the way you softly brush the tip against his nail.
each individual nail took a few seconds each— oddly enough, it was wholly soothing for a while.
“hmph,” he bleats, feeling the softness of your hand skin against his hand every so often. you were so thorough, so precise.
delicately, you lay the brush flat against the bed of his nail. the bristles coat against the layer of his nail and you feel a brief coldness of air fan against your skin. it was rather amusing to watch you pay so close attention to him, to his hands. “hm,” he raises a brow for probably the nth time today. still scowling, his face softens a bit— you had him all relaxed. “you’re quite good at that, i must admit.”
“aw. thank you,” you cheese. with a grin, you give him a cute exuberant glance, pulling up his ring finger to paint the entire part of his nail with a freshly new coat. “how’s it feel?”
sukuna groans, not liking how sentimental this moment was. the entire mood was so … soft.
you made him feel soft— he always thought things like that just wasn’t possible. especially with someone as such as him.
who would have thought that painting the almighty sukuna ryomen’s nail’s would have him falling for you ten times harder . . ?
“it’s … good,” he utters in a gruff tone, and you’re just about done.
his eyes linger toward your hands for a long time, you’re still placed on his lap before you feel the curse’s lower arms grip against your waist tightly. you felt a feeling of abrupt security and it was quite nice. within his touch, you always felt secure. moments with him like this, you’d never be anywhere else. “hurry up though, my thigh’s cramping.”
“oh shut up.” you roll your eyes with a snicker, bringing the brush towards his pinky now. he sticks it out for you, staying still as possible before you pause— dipping it back into the glass teensy bottle, swirling it, delving it around the inner crevices of the glass before finishing up his final finger.
the audacity,
the audacity of telling him to shut up, you must have been out of your mind.
but truth be told, sukuna has somewhat of a sweet spot for you. it made him kiss his teeth in sheer exasperation. he wasn’t used to such tender forms of affection. part of him wonders just why you’re always so warm to him. treating him with such care, he’s the king of curses after all, and yet here he is— acting like his long lost self, the king of love..
“alllll done,” you harmonize, he looks down to see the final results. with low hooded eyes, sukuna stares at his sharp nails— once black, now a light pinkish color. his mouth dangles opens and his face scrunches up, eyebrows curling together and it’s hilarious. for once, sukuna ryomen was speechless. “i know right? you’re gonna get so many compliments, ‘kuna.”
“you did not just paint my nails pink, woman,” he huffs out a grunt, you lean up close to him with a coy, impish look. “the nerve is beyond me..”
you giggle, flashing off your nails in his face, the two of you now having the same exact color. “oh, don’t be a baby. see, now we’re matching,” and his face is still all scrunched up. god, you had him feeling a feeling he didn’t even know he could feel. his stomach’s tight, churning ridiculously, his heart’s racing, and even his palms start to sweat. “with your long nails, you pull it off so well, heh.”
sukuna kept asking himself the same question the more he avoids eye contact.
why must you be so so cute..?
not a single reply comes from his mouth, instead he just crosses his arms into a mere fold. “mhm,” is all he replies with, tilting his head before resuming his words with an obstinate grouse. “whatever. but i’ll have you know that pink is not my color.”
you titter. “oh? what is your color then, my lord?”
you were being a brat, he sends you daggers before regretting he even said that— you always had the higher up on him, every single time.
“tch. nevermind that,” sukuna scorns, and his pout was so adorable.
pink stretched lips compressing together, stubborn as usual.
he brings his hand towards his face before exhaling lowly. “what in the— the nerve of you to put little sparkles on it too,” and he watches your smile beam at his live reaction. “i … don’t know what i’m gonna do with you.”
“you can start by thanking me,” you tease, planting your lips against his cheek.
he tenses up, the softness of your lips giving him whiplash for a moment. every time you present him either something as simple as a kiss, he was never prepared for it. “fine. thank you,” and as his bulky lower arms snake around your waist, he meets your brightly dilated irises. “are ya finished? i need a nap.”
“so old,” you stroke his cheek, and that earns a glare from him. “it’s not even the afternoon yet,” and you gift him with another mwah, the contact that your sweet lips provides has him growing more and more flustered. “but yes, i’m done ‘kuna. thank you.”
“…..good,” he responds after a long seven second pause. sukuna’s scowling before he finally returns your eye contact. his face was slowly getting more flustered from each kiss you give him before he tsks. “ah ah,” he creates a swift hand motion, “off my lap now, you’ve had your fun.”
you frown. “aw,” a sweet disappointed tone hiding underneath your voice. he’s then taken aback once he feels your humanly hands sneak their way into his hair. pink slightly curled up strands of his was a bit messy and tangled. the curse was still publicly pouting, studying your every move before you get an idea. “hm. one more thing though?”
he exhales. “what.”
“can i do your hair? i found some bows and—”
“count your days, girl.”
“stop flirting with me, ‘kuna.”
“….foolish woman,” and after a long dreadful pause, sukuna pouts yet again. so cute, his arms remain crossed before he speaks through annoyingly gritted teeth, an almost smile pokes through his lips that conceals his fangs. “fine. you may do my hair…. or whatever.”
#★vegasbaby.#sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna fluff#sukuna ryomen x reader#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#jjk drabbles#jjk fic#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jjk imagines
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Sakusa Timeskip Recs
this is for you lovely @dontmindtheevie. thank you for your support and patience pookie!
the video call incident by @reverie-starlight
synopsis: you and sakusa enjoyed the secrecy of your relationship. after all, you both didn't want to imagine what would happen if the terrible three ever found out.
oneshot filled with humor, insults, and fluff. it made me unattractively cackle a couple times.
no secretes here by bunnytime [ao3]
synopsis: sakusa's teammates like to think they all know each other pretty well. how could they not know that sakusa was in a relationship? let alone married??
this mini series is so cute! pure fluff and msby chaos!
mine by @taeyamayang
synopsis: you always loved watching sakusa's games and supporting him. however, you didn't love what sakusa had set up for you.
oneshot, maybe a little ooc? but so adorable.
untitled oneshot by @chosobaby
synopsis: there's just one aspect of volleyball that sakusa does not enjoy...
lil "what if" scenario that i just love to think about!
specially made by @luvring
synopsis: you swear sakusa does not understand the point of a surprise. but you're not complaining.
dating pro-player sakusa scenario. just pure fluff
another untitled oneshot by @omi-boshi
synopsis: sakusa does not like answering his phone when he's on break. however, when it's you calling, curiosity gets the better of him.
reader just being a thorn in sakusa's side, but he's too down bad for you to complain.
Fresh Linens by emilyisfictional [ao3]
synopsis: your boyfriend is gone way too often, the only option is to steal his hoodies and sweaters. you hate that he washes them so often.
agh just more fluff and sakusa boyfriend scenarios that leave me melting
Drawing Our Moments by EdenxWrites [ao3]
synopsis: sakusa recalls the days he fell in love with you.
not entirely post-timeskip. has some flashbacks to high school but present day is set after high school. this oneshot caught me off guard.
hello, neighbor by @demxnscous
synopsis: you gain a new neighbor and he seems...interesting enough. well, his friend is definitely a character.
a meet-ugly oneshot that i wish had more parts...but ig that's what my imagination is for.
i also want to bring some attention to this fic: change of heart by heartcondemned [ao3]
i haven't finished reading it yet, but i'm really enjoying it. i also hesitate to rec it because it is unfinished and doesn't look like it will be... but give it a try if you're cool with that!
#sakusa is literally babe#fic rec#haikyuu#haikyuu angst#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x you#hq#hq fluff#hq x reader#sakusa kiyoomi#sakusa x reader#haikyuu sakusa#msby sakusa#sakusa x you#sakusa x y/n#msby#sakusa fluff#sakusa kyoomi x reader#ghost rec
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thinking about bestfriend!felix who's known for being touchy within his social circle, so when he holds your hand as you walk around campus and leaves giggly kisses against your cheek, your jaw, your neck after a few drinks, you think nothing of it.
especially because it comes up in conversation from time to time. everyone that hangs out with him regularly enough has at least one story: felix smoothed circles against my back until i fell asleep on the bathroom floor after a party; he's kissed the top of my head twice; i've never seen him end a hug first.
and you've seen things--at parties, while studying, while out with friends in general. so you genuinely have no reason to think there's anything strange or different about the way he treats you, and neither does anyone else.
at first.
one night, when you're still new enough to felix and his world that you feel extremely out of place at a party that he invited you to, he calls you over to where he and his friends are sitting. you walk over to them, greeting everyone politely before moving to take the available space next to felix.
he grabs your wrist before you can actually sit. you're confused, but given little time to react. felix mumbles an absentminded, "c'mere" before pulling you towards his lap. it's a little flustering, but you sit, because that's just how felix is.
okay. normal enough. conversation continues. no one thinks twice about it. farleigh thinks it's a bit of overkill, but just assumes it's a combination of alcohol and maybe an attempt at laying the groundwork to hook up with you a little later in the night.
then, someone asks about potential vacation plans over break and farleigh brings up an inside joke from the last trip he and felix went on. it's casual, but it's clear that felix is supposed to say something.
farleigh looks over in time to see felix holding one of your hands to his lips. alright. still not the most egregious display of platonic affec--felix takes his time pressing kisses to each of your knuckles.
it's not just the gesture. it's the way felix watches your reaction through his lashes and the amount of care in his focus. as if you're the only one in the room. there's a patience there that's practically devoted.
maybe farleigh had it wrong. he thought you were just one of those platonic friends that felix would cart around for a few months before getting bored. maybe it's more romantic, or at the very least sexual.
then felix's eyebrows draw together. "you're cold." you start to say that you're fine, but before you can get the words out, felix is holding both of your hands between his.
in the beat that it takes farleigh to recover from the slightly nauseating display, the rest of the group has gone quiet. they're all watching felix dote on you like you're the reason for the moon hanging in the sky. annabel whispers something about the "unsuspecting".
farleigh eventually tries again, directly stating felix's name. he finally looks up, a little confused, as if coming out of a trance. farleigh repeats his earlier comment, finally getting a reaction from felix. the group recovers because while the moment had been almost uncomfortably intimate for something so casual, this is far from the first time felix has started (casually) seeing an 'outsider'.
some time passes and you finish your first drink. when felix notices, he asks if you want another. you tell him that you don't mind getting your own, but felix is insistent. you stand so that he can get up.
a part of you wishes you could have found an excuse to go with him. the gesture, in theory, is nice, but without felix's protection, being left with his friends feels like he's thrown you to the wolves.
annabel, a little tipsy and now curious asks, "so, how long have you and felix..." she trails off with a knowing look.
you kind of get what she's implying, but it feels like too random and too unfitting of an assumption to be accurate. "oh, we've been friends since around right after syllabus week, felix ask--"
"no," she shakes her head, "i mean--" she tries again, this time asking with precise language.
your face grows a few degrees warmer. "oh." the slight laugh that follows the syllable is too genuine for it to be you playing coy. "no, it's not--we're friends."
friends. you genuinely believe it. annabel fixes you with a tight lipped smile that makes something in your stomach knot.
you decide that her question must have been prompted by you sitting on felix's lap. you've also heard enough stories about them to assume that they have an on again off again, sort of thing, and because you really don't want to make an enemy of her, you try to justify it, "that was just--you've known him way longer, he's just like that."
oh my god. he's fooled you. completely convinced you that that's normal. before annabel can really react, felix comes back. he hands you your drink and kisses your cheek before sitting down next to you. he doesn't ask you to go back to where you were sitting before, but he does keep a hand on your knee.
----
some bestfriend!reader concepts ft oliver
another bestfriend! felix blurb :)
bestfriend! felix and reader basically dating
#kind of want to write more bestfriend!felix at some point#saltburn x reader#saltburn imagine#felix catton x reader#felix catton#bestfriend!felix#jacob elordi#jacob elordi x reader
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heyy, i love your work, i was wondering if you could write a fic based on the song ‘the other woman’ by lana del rey where the reader is the other woman. you could do it about any member :)
this is my first ever request since i’ve been on this app so i hope i did it right 😭
The other Woman • Hwang Hyunjin
thank you so much! i’m so happy that your first ask was on my acc! i hope you like it<3
warnings: suggestive(no explicit smut), arguing, infidelity, toxic relationship, plot twist at the end;)
"I have to go, beautiful." Hyunjin leaned down to kiss your forehead after pulling his pants up and buttoning them. He placed his hand on the side of your face, gently caressing your cheek with his thumb. "She'll get suspicious if I stay any longer."
This was normal for you, yours and Hyunjin's little routine. He'd take you out to dinner and treat you like a princess, paying for your meals and anything else you could possibly want. Holding your hand and taking you places you've only dreamed of going, then he'd take you home --your home-- and he'd fuck you like there was no tomorrow. And then he'd leave to do the same things with his wife.
You never understood why he pursued you the way he did when he had someone at home to take care of, but you didn't care enough to bring it up. Why would you? You have everything a young woman could ever want; a young, handsome, rich man who gives you anything you want. But only a few times a week. It's okay though, that just gives you plenty of time to do things that you enjoy like reading and going to museums and admiring the beautiful pieces of art that you wished you could just shove in your bag and take home with you.
"Okay," You said with a tired smile. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Actually, I meant to tell you, I won't be able to come over tomorrow. Apparently, Violet has a family reunion, and she wants me to accompany her." He stated as he pulled his shirt over his head and grabbed his bag from the chair in the corner of your room.
Violet. Such a pretty name for such a lucky woman.
"Oh." Was all you replied with.
"Are you mad at me?"
"No, of course not, these things happen," You knew exactly what you were getting yourself into as soon as you entered this relationship, if it can even be called that. "Just text me when you can. let me know when you want to meet up."
"Of course." He smiled.
He kissed you deeply before he left that night, almost making you forget that he had someone at home waiting for him, and you would be left here, cold and alone.
That text that he promised didnt come until a week later.
"I miss the way you feel wrapped around me." Was all that the message contained. You liked to imagine he was talking about your warm embrace, but you knew that wasn't true. He just wanted to feel an unfamiliar body underneath his.
You weren't sure how you ended up like this. When you first met Hyunjin he was sweet and caring, attentively listened to you while you complained about your bad day at work and massaged away all the soreness in your muscles. You can't remember the last time he's taken you out to dinner or bought you flowers. Now you were just his escape from his nagging wife.
You put up with the constant shame and guilt you felt for being with someone who already had their someone, because you thought that maybe his love for you would grow and that maybe someday Hyunjin would realize that you're the one he wants to spend every waking moment with and not someone else. But as your love for him grew your patience shrunk until one day you snapped.
Hyunjin was collecting his things after he had finished what he came here for, which was to get his dick wet and nothing more. "I won't see you again after tonight."
Hyunjin stopped in his tracks and stared at you with wide eyes. "What do you mean by that?"
"I mean I deserve more than this. I deserve to have someone's full attention and all of their heart." You held yourself together, determined not to cry Infront of him. He doesn't deserve your tears.
"Baby, what are you even talking about?" He knelt down in front of you and placed his hand on your shaking knees. "Of course, I love you."
"No, you don't," You shook your head. "You love my body, you love having someone at your disposal, someone you can use only for your own pleasure. If you loved me even in the slightest there wouldn't be another woman getting the treatment that I crave so fucking much." All the emotion you've kept stuffed away finally revealed itself in the form of a single tear running down your cheek.
It was silent for a long time before Hyunjin spoke. "I'll leave her." You snapped your head up so fast that it hurt. "If that's what you want than I'll do it." The way he worded it as if it was your choice whether his marriage ended or not made you sick to your stomach, but you couldn't deny that you felt a flutter of hope in your chest that maybe this didn't have to end after all. But you're smarter than that. He says this now, but he doesn't mean it, and even if he did you wouldn't be able to sleep at night knowing that a woman who did nothing wrong was out there most likely crying herself to sleep while your warm and safe in the love of her life's arms.
"No, be with her. I'll be okay." That was a complete lie but even after everything he's done, you still don't want him to worry about you.
"Please don't do this to me. I love you and I want to be with you. He held on to your legs tighter.
"Funny, isn't that what you told her when you vowed in front of God and everyone that your love for her would be eternal." His mouth snapped shut and his hands left your legs before he stood. He leaned down and before you could register what was happening his lips were on yours. You immediately reciprocated, leaning forward and pressing yourself closer into him. He was so intoxicating, the way his tongue glided with yours so smoothly had you in a trance; you snapped out of it when he placed his right knee on the bed beside you and started pushing you backwards. "No!" you shoved him away. He stumbled backwards but regained his balance quickly. "I'm not doing this with you, Hyunjin. I can't do this anymore, its wrong."
"Since when do you have morals?" His voice was louder this time, he was pissed.
"I've always had them, but I put them aside because I love you!" It was your turn to stand up and look him square in the face. "But the longer we do this the more I realize that this isn't love, its obsession and its toxic. You never loved me Hyunjin you were curious about infidelity, and I was an easy target because my standards were so fucking low that I actually settled for you."
"Fuck this, I don't have to sit here and listen to you degrade me like this." He grabbed his bag and left, but not without slamming the door behind him.
~
The past month has been hell. After laying in your bed for an entire week you decided to pack up all of Hyunjins things and throw them out, the smell of him that was radiating off of them was making you sick to your stomach every time you walked in the room. And then you went to the mall to treat yourself to a new outfit, you wanted something that didn't have any memories of him attached to it. A trip to your favorite coffee shop followed after that. you hadn't been her in a while and you missed the smell of fresh espresso as you walked in the door.
After getting yourself your favorite -a butter pecan macchiato and a small triple chocolate brownie (they were out of doughnuts)- You sat in the best spot in the entire shop, in a little booth in the corner right next to the window, where you could watch the leaves that had no color left in them fall to the ground only to get trampled over by the passing pedestrians. The leaves reminded you a lot of yourself in a way, but you hoped you never had to fall again.
"Hi," a voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You turned to find yourself looking up at a very handsome young man. His hair was blonde, and it came down to his shoulders. he had an apron on, and a big smile plastered across his face, little freckles decorated his cheeks. "I saw you bought one of the brownies, it's a new recipe I tried, and I wanted to ask if you enjoyed it."
"Oh," You blinked up at him. "Um yeah it's really good, maybe my new favorite."
"Oh, thank god," He let out a sigh of relief. "I was worried that it wouldn't be any good. See a couple of the ingredients I use were sold out, so I had to substitute-" He stooped in the middle of his sentence. "I'm sorry, I'm rambling. I tend to do that a lot."
"No, it's okay," You huffed out a laugh. He was so cute. "Now I'm curious about what ingredients were sold out." You joked.
He smiled widely at you and stretched his hand out. "I'm Felix."
You hesitated but took his hand anyway. "Nice to meet you, Felix."
PART TWO HERE
THANK YOUUU ALL FOR A THOUSAND FOLLOWERS I DONT EVEN KNOW HOW TO FEEL 😭
taglist: @katsukis1wife @sungprotector @seung-mine @favieee @soephiphanymain @z4hir @minnieslover @kjr-army @caitlyn98s @bangchansbae @fawnpeaks @yumiblogs
#stray kids#kpop#skz#skz scenarios#kpop oneshots#skz imagines#kpop senarios#skz smut#kpop smut#skz stay#skz x reader#skz fanfic#hyunjin fanfic#skz hyunjin#hyunjin smut#hyunjin x reader#hyunjin imagines#hyunjin fluff#hyunjin stray kids#hyunjin scenarios#hwang hyunjin#hyunjin#hyunjin x you#hyunjin x y/n#hyunjin x oc#straykids angst#skz angst#skz asks#skz au#skz fluff
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Cherry Pie. aka - Cherry, Part Three.
There are certain things in life that can’t be denied. You’re starting to think maybe you and Steve are one of them.
pairing - bestfriend!steve harrington x female reader
warnings - smut. cursing.
word count - 2.6k
authors note - part three has arrived!! thanks for your patience, angels. thank you for all your continued enthusiasm and support for this series. I love them and I love you <3 as always, please reblog if you enjoyed!! it’s the only way to circulate my fics <3
masterlist. inbox. series masterlist.
“The prettiest girl in the world just walked in.”
“Your mom?”
“Funny, Harrington. Try again.”
“My Cherry?”
Robin smiles knowingly, nodding her head. Not only did Steve automatically associate you with the phrase prettiest girl in the world, but he called you his. Some days, she wished she could slap him square across the face in hopes of waking him up to what everyone else could see so clearly.
“Hi, you two. Working hard, or hardly working?”
You giggle, and the sound bounces off the metal shelves of the Family Video Store. Steve’s mesmerised, stood unmoving with a beaming grin on his face.
“I’m the first, Steve’s the second.”
The boy kicks his coworker in the shin, laughing when she pinches the bare skin of his arm in retaliation.
“Not true.”
Steve takes you in for a second, stuck still in his place. You’re wearing his favourite sundress, all patterned and pretty in front of him. Your lips are glossy and skin glowy, sneakers on your feet a perfect white. The perfect picture of a summer day.
“What are you doing here?” Robin asks, breaking him out of his haze. He snaps back to reality and throws an arm around your shoulders, kissing your temple sweetly.
“I was nearby anyway, thought I’d come in and see if you were busy. And I had to remind Steve to pick a movie for tonight.”
“We’re not watching a romcom.”
“We’re watching a romcom,” you say at the same time as Steve while Robin laughs.
“I better grab the new stock from the back. See you later,” she says, winking at the boy who still has you pulled tight into his side.
He rests his chin on the top of your head, inhaling the scent of your cherry conditioner and vanilla body wash. If Steve gets to heaven, he’s convinced this is what it’ll smell like.
“I finish here at 6, so I can come and get you, or you can wait for me at my place? Your choice, Cherry Baby.”
“I’ll wait for you. I was thinking I’d make us some dinner anyway, ready for when you get home.”
Home. Steve’s brain short circuits, a vision of a domestic life with a white picket fence flashing across his mind. He cups your face in his hands, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
“Sounds perfect,” he whispers.
You’re a little confused by all this sudden affection, but the last thing you’ll ever do is complain. If he wants to kiss you until you’re dizzy in the middle of this Family Video Store, then so be it.
“I should leave you to get on with stuff.”
“You could stay all day, if you wanted. We could make you wear the uniform and everything - no one would suspect a thing.”
You laugh, nudging his foot with yours.
“As tempting as that is, I have a little more shopping to do. And I have to get ingredients for later.”
You pick up your bag, swinging it over your shoulder as you look at him.
“See you later, Stevie.”
“See you later, Cherry Pie.”
You’re halfway out the door when he calls your name, head whipping around to face him.
“You’re so pretty. You know that, right?”
You look at your shoes, suddenly bashful at his boldness.
“You too, Stevie. Prettiest boy I know.”
You both go about the rest of your days floating on air, high on the giddy sweetness of it all.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
Steve almost passes out when he unlocks his front door.
There’s candles lit and music playing softly, the kitchen alive with movement. Something smells delicious, and he can hear you humming along to a song he thinks he recognises as you chop and stir. He can picture it perfectly before he even enters the room, but the sight still knocks him off balance when he finally gets a good look at you.
“Honey, I’m home!”
You spin from your place at the stove to grin at him, petticoat trimmed apron tied around your waist to protect your dress.
“Darling! I’ve been waiting all day for you!”
You curtsy in mock greeting, which makes Steve laugh much harder than it should. He strides over and gathers you in his arms, squeezing you a little tighter than necessary.
“Steven, I saw you a few hours ago. You’re acting like you’ve just returned from war.”
“Forgive me for missing you,” he mumbles into your hair.
You sink into his embrace anyway, tangling your fingers into the back of his shirt and inhaling the familiar scent of it.
“Something smells really good.”
“It’s my famous cherry pie,” you grin, pulling back to look up at him. “Made it just for you.”
“You’re an angel,” he exclaims, spinning you around on the tiled floors. “An angel sent just for me.”
You try to ignore the way heat rises across your chest, his compliments warming your skin.
“Let me take it out of the oven, and then we’ll eat. You must be starving.”
He laughs, because you know for a fact he’s always hungry. You know everything about him. It should scare him, spook him, make him nervous. Instead he hums with the excitement of it, body alive with the anticipation of it all.
Steve changes out of his work clothes as you plate up dinner. He comes back downstairs to see you sat at the table waiting for him, all patient and pretty. He wonders momentarily what he’s done so right in life to be rewarded so greatly.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
“So you totally brought me a romcom, right?”
Steve wants to deny it, wants to tell you that actually he stood his ground and stuck to his word. Instead, he says,
“Of course I did.”
And you laugh, all silvery and melodic, because you knew he’d cave. He can’t say no to you, even if he wanted to. You don’t use it to your advantage as often as you should. Steve wishes you did a little more.
“I’ll make popcorn if you get the video set up.”
Snacks made and movie ready, you settle in next to Steve on the couch. The two of you always follow the same routine - you sit separately, a fair distance between you, watching the movie with your hands to yourself. Then, slowly, you migrate towards each other, until you’re pressed together without an inch of space to be found.
The same thing happens tonight.
You end up being spooned by Steve, both of you laying across the couch cushions. Your back is pressed to his front, legs tangled together, his arm keeping you bracketed in to him. He’s hooked his chin over your shoulder to watch the TV, pressing kisses into the skin of your neck absentmindedly every now and again.
The film Steve picked is one you’ve seen before, but you’re not about to tell him that. Instead, your eyes slowly slip closed, the steady rhythm of the boys breathing lulling you into a sleepy haze. He traces patterns over the exposed skin of your stomach with his fingertips, chuckling slightly when you flinch as he brushes a ticklish spot.
Your hips roll back into his as you try to adjust your position, and Steve’s breath hitches in his throat. He inhales deeply, waiting for you to settle back down.
You don’t. You keep wriggling, clearly uncomfortable as you sink further into the couch cushions. Steve tries to help you, strong arm pulling you up and into him. You jut your hips once more, and he can’t help the small groan that leaves his lips.
Your eyes flutter open, adjusting to the flashing lights of the TV illuminating the room. The movie is still playing, but you know it’s almost finished. Steve’s arm is tight around your waist, his breathing heavy against your shoulder. You shift your hips to alleviate the pressure on your tangled legs when Steve sucks in a harsh breath, startling you.
He’s warm behind you. So warm. His chest is moving ragged, panting against your bare skin. His fingers grip your thigh tightly for a second, before letting it go and soothing over it.
Oh. Oh.
You’re wide awake, suddenly. Liquid heat spikes its way up your spine, all prickly and electric. You’re not sure what your next move is, but lust is clouding all five of your senses.
“Steve.”
“Cherry.”
“Steve.”
You try to say his name more firmly, but it just comes out as a whine. The sound shoots straight to Steve’s core, his hips bucking into your ass involuntarily.
“You okay?” he mumbles into your ear, grip on your thigh tightening. His fingertips dig into your skin, and you pray you’ll still be able to feel it tomorrow.
“Yeah,” you breathe, but it’s a lie. You’re not okay. You’re on fire, every nerve ending in your body alight with molten heat. You think you might be shaking with it, hoping Steve doesn’t notice.
His hand smooths up from your thigh to just under your breast, resting gently on your ribs. Your heart is fluttering like a hummingbirds wings, frantic and delicate. He can feel it through his fingertips.
“I love you, Cherry Baby.”
You lose your breath momentarily, reminding yourself how to inhale. He always does this, always catches you off guard by telling you he loves you in the moments you expect it the least. It always means more, in times like these. He could have said anything to you just then, but he chose I love you. You don’t know whether to laugh or cry or neither or both.
“I love you too,” you choke out. “So much.”
You grind your hips back into his, grinning when he groans all low and buttery. His hand glides up to cup your chest, squeezing gently as you arch into him.
“What do you want?” he asks slowly. “Tell me what you want, babe. I’ll give you anything. Need to hear you say it. Wanna hear you say the words.”
You let him ramble for a minute, trying to put your thoughts in order. You try as hard as you can, but all you can say is,
“You.”
Steve buries his nose into your hair, pressing a kiss into the space behind your ear gently.
“You’re killing me, baby.”
“Want you so badly, Steve. Please.”
The hand that’s on your chest dances down to your stomach, slipping underneath your sleep shorts. He traces his fingers over your underwear, moaning when he feels them completely soaked through.
“Shit.”
“Stevie.”
He strokes you gently, hips rutting into your back when yours jolt into his hand. Eventually, he pulls your underwear to the side, running his fingers through your wet heat before slipping two inside.
You keen instantly, back arching into him. His lips find home in the juncture between your neck and your shoulder, teeth biting down occasionally to try and stifle his desire. You move your hips in tandem with his rhythm, grinding down to try and find the right spot.
“Yeah, fuck, that’s it. Atta girl. Ride my fingers, sweetheart. Take what you need.”
His voice is like melted honey, all golden and warm. It’s making your bones turn to liquid, sinking further into the hold he still has on you with his other arm. Every inch of you is plastered to every inch of him, not a millimetre of space between you. You’ve never been so connected, both physically and emotionally. It’s like the tectonic plates are shifting, the very foundations of your lives changing right in front of your eyes.
Your chest is heaving, panting like you’ve just ran a marathon. All you can focus on is the white heat building in the pit of your stomach, volcanic and bright. When Steve crooks his fingers, you cry out, tumbling over the edge into a blind freefall with no parachute.
“That’s it, baby. Good girl.”
“You’re so good f’me. Doin’ so well.”
“Ride it out, pretty girl. Fuck.”
“Make a mess, there we go. Just like that.”
You’re not even registering his words, but you know that he’s praising you. He always is. He thinks you’re an angel, sent down from heaven to teach him what love is.
Steve ruts his hips into your back, groaning as he finishes. He can’t even find it in him to be embarrassed. The feeling of you writhing in his hold as you tightened around him was his undoing, whether he wanted it to be or not. He doesn’t mind.
You go boneless, head dropping back into his shoulder. He presses kisses onto your temple, your cheek, your neck, anywhere he can reach. You sigh in contentment, and Steve wishes he could bottle up the sound and take it like a shot of espresso every morning.
“You okay?”
You nod and then giggle, dopamine rushing through your blood. You’re almost lightheaded with it, floating on cloud nine.
“Steve?” you whisper.
“Yeah?”
You turn in his hold to finally face him, taking in the sight of his flushed cheeks and messy hair. You rest your sweaty forehead against his, panting into his mouth.
“Want it to be you.”
He pulls away slightly to get a good look at your face, eyes a little wide with shock.
“You mean…”
“Yeah. You don’t have to, if you don’t want to, but if you do, I guess I, um… there’s no one I trust more than you.”
“You know you can only lose your virginity once, baby.”
“I know. Which is exactly why it should be you.”
He grins at you, all giddy and love drunk, bumping your nose with his.
“You’re sure?”
“One hundred percent.”
Steve leans in to press his lips to yours, all slow and tender, kissing you as if you have all the time in the world.
Perhaps you do.
“Not tonight, obviously,” you murmur, chuckling under your breath. “Don’t think you could handle that.”
He scoffs, pulling back from you in disbelief.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You just came in your pants and I didn’t even touch you. Who even knows if we’ll make it to actual sex.”
Steve pinches your sides, wrapping his arms around you so you can’t escape. You laugh, trying to squirm out of his hold without luck.
“You’re gonna be eating your words, Cherry Baby.”
You shake your head, blinding smile still etched on your face.
“You know what I am gonna eat? My cherry pie. I’m starving.”
Steve groans at the thought of the dessert sitting on the counter in the kitchen. No one does a cherry pie quite like you.
“Hell yeah. Let’s do it. There’s ice cream in the freezer, too. That vanilla bean one you like.”
You peck his lips before standing up on shaky legs, wincing as you do it.
“You good?”
“I’m gonna need a new shirt. This one’s sticky.”
You look at him with a raised eyebrow and he can’t hold in his laughter, the sound of it booming around the quiet room.
“Shut the fuck up,” he jokes as he throws you over his shoulder. Despite your protests, he carries you up the stairs, smacking your ass a few times on the way for good measure.
When he puts you down, he cradles your face gently, looking into your eyes with sincerity.
“It’s me and you forever. You know that right?”
You know what he’s trying to say. I love you. You’re it for me. There never has been and never will be anyone else.
But neither of you are quite ready for those words. So instead, you say,
“I know. I’ve always known.”
And that’s enough, for now.
@psychicnerdcat @allcheesemelts @valerievortex @swiftsgirlfriend @steviespookie @betweenstarsandsatellites @mrsjoequinn @internallysalad @saucypeanuttt @empathyroad @niceskyler @spookysins @theoraekenslover @7minutes-tomidnight @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @livsters @diffrent-spokes @regular-joe-shmoe @ihatepeanutss
for some reason I didn't tag some people from part one in part two... no idea why. sorry!
#steve harrington fic#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington smut#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader smut#steve harrington x reader fluff#steve harrington x bestfriend!reader#bestfriend!steve harrington#bestfriend!steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x bestfriend reader#stranger things x reader#stranger things smut#stranger things fluff
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Masterlist
Bolded is NSFW.
✪ = Reader Favorite
✫ = Author Favorite
Bad idea. - You see your Professor talking to one of his co-workers, prompting insecurities about him belonging with someone his age.
Yes, Professor. - What follows after a jealous argument between Professor Spencer and his student.
Only you, darling. - You tell your professor you want a “real relationship”, it doesn’t bode well at all.
Beatdown. - Your professor can’t seem to get enough of your punishments. He was pushing your limits, and you intend to break him.
✫ I know your wife and she wouldn’t mind. - Even though he's married to someone else, Spencer can't resist taking care of you every time you show up on his doorstep.
✫ Swing and a Miss. - You meet a nerd at a bar, and you’re determined to claim him as yours.
✪ In the Pouring Rain. - You're driving home and there’s a storm incoming, but pulling over and never pulling out seems more than satisfactory.
✪✫ Vegas Redemption.- You spot Spencer at a hotel lounge alone, you see has a ring on his finger, but that doesn't stop you.
Headlights Flashing - Spencer and you are rivaling street racers, and despite your deep rooted hatred for each other, with enough adrenaline, arousal, and pure aggression shooting through your veins, you find yourself at the mercy of your contender.
Come and Save me now. - Spencer is supposed to be your doctor, but making you feel better surely wasn’t out of the job description.
✪✫ Daddy's Little Helper. - Spencer wants nothing more than to show his appreciation for you babysitting his daughter, but by giving you a baby of your own was not what you expected.
✪ Truth of a Lifetime. - After a long day at work, you want nothing more than to unwind with your best friend, but playing a game of drunk Truth or Dare was definitely not what you had in mind.
✪✫ Captive to Crosswords. - Spencer’s got you tied to a chair, but he’s more interested in finishing his crossword puzzle than finishing you.
✪ Down by the Dock. - After telling Spencer how distant he's been, he's determined to prove just how close he can get with you.
Dare of a Lifetime. - Part 2 to “Truth of a Lifetime” where you show Spencer the kinds of things you’re into, and he is quite the hands-on learner.
✫ Make Hate to You. - Spencer’s convinced you like him a little more than you’re letting on, but you’re set on showing him just how wrong he is.
✪ Mommy's Boyfriend. - While dropping off your son at school, the last thing you expect is your ex-boyfriend Mr.Reid to be his teacher.
✪ Gun that doesn't shoot. - You've grown tired of the princess treatment from Spencer, just wishing he'd slap you around for once, so you don't stop until he does.
✪ Old Fashioned. - After a long night of waiting tables, a quiet man who can’t help but blush every time you speak to him is just what you need.
✪ Staying Up. - You're peacefully sleeping when Spencer comes home needy for you, but you're more than happy to let him use you.
✪✫ The Art of Film - Spencer's wears his FBI vest and bodycam while he fucks you.
BBM Baby - Spencer wants nothing more than to leave work to be with you, so you sext him to torture him even further.
The Chase. - Getting pulled over wasn't exactly your plan for a Friday night, but getting pulled over by a hot officer just might be.
Wrong Move You're Dead - Spencer was never shy about his obsession for you, but you don't know just how far he'd go to prove you belong to him.
✪✫Jealous Girl. - Catching Spencer talking to another woman wasn’t exactly ideal, but thankfully you know just how to handle him.
Impatience.- Your patience was hardly that of a saint, so it’s no surprise when Spencer’s forced to leave work to fuck you.
✫ All Aboard. - When you meet a handsome stranger on the train home, he's adamant from the moment your gazes lock that he’ll get a taste of you.
Desk Pet. - Despite knowing the importance of work, Spencer still can't help but distract you in the worst way possible.
Begging for a Breaking. - You've never been that of a beggar for Spencer, but you’re not about to back down now.
✪ Friendly Competition. - Spencer gets a little too cocky and thinks he can please you better than a toy, so you take it upon yourself to crush his ego.
✫ Brushstrokes - You weren’t entirely sure what being Spencer’s muse meant, but it certainly wasn’t what he had in mind.
Loosen Up - Parties have never been much of Spencer's scene, luckily you've got no problem helping him calm down.
Conditioned Response - You knew training someone like a dog wasn't the most ethical, but Spencer just makes it too easy to pass up.
Good Decoration - After misplacing a folder full of explicit images, the last thing you’d expect was Spencer to take it.
Double-Edged Sword - The only way Spencer is allowed to fuck you is to wear a strap-on.
#spencer reid#spencer x reader#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds#spencer reid smut#dom spencer reid#spencer reid x reader smut#dom spencer reid x reader#dom!spencer#professor spencer reid#teachers pet#student and teacher#sub spencer reid#sub!spencer#sub spencer x reader#sub spencer reid x reader#sub spencer#sub spencer reid smut#sub spencer reid x reader smut
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.—001 𝐀𝐃𝐔𝐋𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ♡ {𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐀 𝐊𝐄𝐈}
one of TSUKISHIMA's university goals is to ruin the sassy student librarian and break all her rules; by the way, it's you
𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 ⋮ f!reader, rivals to lovers, library sex, pussy eating, bantering (a repost from more than a year ago) PART ONE - TWO
University wasn’t easy especially when you also have library duties part-time and that one day with a classmate from Literature class made it even complicated.
Tsukishima Kei, a wallflower during lectures, handed you a book for return. You scanned the barcode. “Overdue, I didn’t see that from you.” He’s responsible, uptight and by-the-book. It seemed impossible.
Though you meant nothing, he didn’t feel quite right with your comment. “So what? Are you the librarian now?” He sharply replied, scanning the payment QR Code with his phone.
That just rubbed you the wrong way either. “Yes, I am.”
A smirk appeared on his face. “As far as I’m concerned,” he leaned forward over the desk and whispered mockingly, “You’re just a student assistant here.”
You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath of patience. With a stiff smile, you professionally reverted back, “Your business is already finish now, Tsukishima-san. You may now go. If you wish to stay, I advise that you remain quiet before I ask you to leave the hall.”
Tsukishima just shot daggers at you, pinning you with his eyes before he turned around and went his own way.
Ha! The slight victory made you grin and gave you the confidence to add another greeting his way, “See you in class, Tsukishima-san.”
See you in class, indeed. After that encounter in the library, it was as if he suddenly became active in recitation. Tsukishima constantly opposed your views every time you shared them in class. It had been weeks, no, months since it was the case. You even heard your classmate picking their sides, placing their bets on who between you and Tsukishima would win the day’s lecture.
And everytime he’d visit the library, he’d return and borrow tons of books at the same time as if he was pissing you off. You were sure as hell that he was doing it on purpose and that he’s timing it perfectly to when you were the one in the desk duty.
You rolled your eyes. Just when you were thinking of how much he annoyed the shit out of you, you saw him reading a book in one of the long tables. Guess what? He grabbed a mountain pile of books. You wouldn’t be shocked if he would place that in the returning cart any moment now since you’re the one in the clearing duty.
You leered, intentionally choosing the aisle near his table and giving him a dirty side eye as you passed by him. You knew he picked that up and just as you predicted, he placed the piles of book in the cart right when you were about to push it off. There were only 2 books in there but when Tsukishima dumped his stuff, there were like about 8 now. Looking at the call numbers, the books were even shelved in the farthest back of the hall.
Asshole! You grimaced at him and he grinned evilly at you. Begrudgingly, you headed to the very last shelf where Tsukishima got his books. You placed some of them back in until you realized that most of what he picked were too high for you to reach.
“You need help?” Tsukishima said with a smug expression as he returned a book in his hand at the top shelf only he could reach.
“What are you doing here?” You snapped.
“Returning a book. I forgot to place it in the cart.” You scoffed and he added, “You would find it hard to shelf it anyway.” His lips etched in a mocking smile as he eyed the remaining books in your cart.
Scoffing, you kicked a ladder in front you. “I was just starting.” You picked up some of the books, stepped into the third level of the ladder and shelved them. Halfway though, you felt his eyes on you. Your gaze traveled to where he was looking and you noticed that your skirt rode up, revealing your garter belt.
“Pervert,” you reprimanded him and went down the ladder.
He immediately snapped away. “Who wears that in school?” Okay, he must admit it’s not the best comeback ever.
What? It’s not like you were wearing anything scandalous. It was just a simple pencil skirt and it’s unintentional that it rode up your thighs. “That doesn’t mean you should look, asshole.”
He huffed and rebutted, “As if there’s something to look at.”“Then why are you looking?” You said, walking past him and pushing a book back in the shelf harder than you intended.
You were surprised when you were grabbed by your elbow, pulling you away from the books that fell from above you.
“Careful,” he warned. Your gazes held each other. His eyes were now filled with concern. Genuine concern. You gulped as you heard your heart beat in your chest. You would be lying if you’d say his rebuttals in class made him less sexy. In fact, it made his snarky ass more attractive.
He scanned you from head to toe. Your clothes bothered him a lot, pulling off that sexy librarian look that never failed to give him fantasies every night.
“You only wear that kind of attire every Thursday.” He chided in as if catching you. In return, you stepped backward, feeling cornered by his height and inquisition.
“Why are you here only every Thursday?” You dared as he stepped forward closing you in. Your back hit the shelf as he towered over you. His eyes studied your pretty lashes and hopeful, needy, eyes. Yours probed his orbs, now showing vulnerability near your presence, losing control over his urges.
You wanted to push him away, but you also wanted him to pull you close. With how petty you acted around each other, he might just laugh at you in complete rejection. You poor little midget was actually attracted to him all this time. You’re hopeless and horny for him, it’s pathetic.
He was equally pathetic too. He couldn’t resist his bulging cock as he saw your lacy bra underneath that long-sleeved dress shirt you wore. And that sassy mouth of yours…the things he wanted to do whenever you open them to spit another off-handed comment his way. Fuck! Just fuck!
You were both breathing heavily and you noticed the way your chest rose and fell against him. You squeezed your thighs together, feeling heat in between. It was unbearable. You needed more. You couldn’t take it anymore and so was he when he smashed his lips against yours. Your mouth opened willingly and his tongue didn’t hesitate to explore. Your hand flew to his head, lacing your fingers around his strands. His hands roamed all over your body not getting enough of you.
He bit your lower-lip, smirking against it as he had been desiring to do that ever since you got into his head. You moaned and it gave him confidence to tease you, running a hand under your skirt and lightly tracing the edge of your stockings. He caressed your thigh and you leaned your head back as his fingers began reaching your pussy.
Tsukishima groaned. “You're so inappropriate.”
You moaned in a begging tone.
He smiled, disbelieving that the smartass Y/N whom he thought hated his guts with all her life was now begging him for more and that prompted all forms of logical reasoning to leave his brain.
He picked up a book from the clearing cart and pressed it against your pussy, rubbing the hard corner against where he thought your clit was to give you pleasure. “Oh, god…” You breathed out. It felt too good. You couldn’t help but hold his wrist with both of your hands, guiding him to the right pressure and tempo as you rocked your hips, using the book for stimulation.
“I never thought you love books this much.” He teased.
You scoffed. “What can I do? Mhmn~“ You panted. “This is all you got.”
A different surge of pride came over him after that sassy remark, which made him drop the book and had him on his knees. He pulled your skirt up and your panties down, inhaling deeply as he came face to face with your sopping wet cunt. His thumb massaged your slit before hooking your leg over his shoulder and digging in to eat you out.
Come to think of it, the signages said, Strictly No Eating, but it’s too late now. He was already overcome with lust and the taste of your delicious pussy so soft against his lips and tongue. He circled against your clit while sipping your arousal. You bit the back of your hand trying to cover your noises. Tsukki pictured the big Remain Quiet library sign in his head. Yes, he’s gonna have you break all the fucking library rules. He’d make sure you’d be making all sorts of noises in a while.
“Please…please..” You heaved, leaning your head back on the shelf as you grabbed a fistful of his strands and rode his face. His glasses now misty with the heat of your pussy and his breathing. His tongue started lapping rapidly.
You were losing your mind already and you could feel your orgasm approaching. Tsukki knew that, but he wasn’t done with you yet not until he's inches deep inside you and his dick was the only thing in your mind. The perfect payback for all the sleepless nights you gave him with nothing but desires on how your pussy would fucking feel, clenching him tight.
He pulled back and you whined a complain. You should’ve known he’d do this right when you were aching and desperate for him.
Cupping your cheek, he drew your lips in for a kiss. You melt like you were pleading more of him in your arms. Feeling his erection rubbing against your stomach, you broke the kiss and looked down at his pants. Involuntarily, you licked your lips at the sight of his hard-on. “Looks like you need a hand.”
—♡ send 💦 if you want to be tagged in PART 2
⏝︶︶⏝︶ ୨୧ ︶⏝︶︶⏝
© nekorei 2023 - All rights reserved. No work shall be reproduced, reposted, modified, translated in any form or by any means.
#tsukishima smut#tsukki smut#haikyuu smut#hq smut#tsukishima x reader#tsukki x reader#haikyuu x reader#hq x reader#tsukishima x you#tsukishima x y/n
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foolish. | theodore nott x fem!reader
pairing: ex!theodore x fem!reader
warnings: cursing, angst, mentions of alcohol, mentions of blood, bandleader!theo, ex!theo, jealous!theo, protective!theo, readers status not mentioned, reader is a ravenclaw, google translated italian 😭
summary: Theodore, your ex after a 16 month relationship, is performing at a slytherin party. you attend this party, wanting to go out and finally enjoy yourself, but end up cleaning his wounds
a/n: inspired by this tiktok :> posted: 11/25/23 | masterlist
in the aftermath of the recent events, you were left heartbroken. it had been a 16 months into what you had thought was a happy relationship, and theodore’s sudden decision to end things without any reasons only added to your confusion.
along with the overwhelming emotions of sadness and anger, you found yourself in bed for days on end, consumed by thoughts of what could have caused everything to unravel.
the fear of encountering him only kept you holed up in your dormitory, leading you to skip meals and isolate yourself from everyone. your friend’s patience had run out, despite their affection for you, they couldnt stand watching you suffer in bed because of the certain slytherin any longer.
there was a party coming up in slytherins common room, which you immediately turn down the invitation, knowing theodore would be there performing with his bandmates. “cmon (y/n)! it’ll be fun plus you can use this opportunity to get your mind off of him!” your friend begged in a heartfelt plea.
you only groan, annoyance rising up slowly as you had been denying their offer all day. “god! fine fine ill fucking go!” you blurt out. your friend squeal, wrapping their arms around you as they squeeze you. “okay enough.. i already said im going! dont make me regret it,” you uttered under your friend. they immediately pull away. “you better keep your word!” they declare.
as the days passed and the party approached, you found yourself slipping back into your old habits. the routine of attending classes and meals became second nature once again, but there was one thing you made a conscious effort to avoid - nott. despite your efforts, you couldn't help but notice your other house mates whispering about how he would often stare at you from across the room. however, you continue to pay no attention towards him.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
"are you sure i look hot?" (y/n) inquired, looking in the mirror at the fitted cute black dress that hugged her body. (y/n) made a point of going all out tonight, she didn't want to appear miserable in the eyes of others now that she wasn't with theodore anymore.
your friend assures you, "babes. you are the most hottest person i know." you laugh, finishing up by teasing the roots of your hair for more volume and fixing your makeup, adding a soft red lipstick.
as the two of you turn to face each other, your friend gives you a smug look while you roll your eyes playfully at them. without a word, you both intertwine arms and make your way out of the ravenclaw common room, heading towards the intimidating atmosphere of the slytherin domain.
as you step inside the slytherin common room, the scent of alcohol greets you, along with a racket of voices and music. the noise surrounds you, enveloping your senses as you navigate through the crowd.
theodore and his bandmates—draco, mattheo, blaise, and pansy—were standing right across the room. he was simply taking a break after spending the entire night playing. he eased his messy hair out of his way and looked around the room while removing his guitar strap and gently placing the instrument down. merely wishing that you had made it.
he struggled to understand his own reasoning for ending things with you. yet, he could not bring himself to confront the truth. despite this, he deeply longed for your presence and the intimate moments shared between you. he had noticed that you were avoiding him, which he totally understood. he thought that breaking up with you was a foolish and regretful decision, and he felt like a total asshole for doing so.
his eyes landed on you. his eyes widening a bit in surprised that you had actually came. he scanned your figure, noticing that you were wearing his favorite dress of yours. there was a reason it was his favorite, his eyes scanning your curves and slowly went up towards your face. observing your light makeup and the red lipstick you loved to wear, he thought about how beautiful you looked to tonight.
he longed to reach out to you, to hold you close and shield you from the unwanted attention of those around you. but he knew he couldn't, for you were no longer his, a fact that tore at his heart. he could only clench his jaw in frustration and avert his gaze, unable to do anything.
upon your arrival at the event, you were dismayed to discover that your friend had already been discreetly ushered away from your side. a sense of isolation and regret washed over you as you watched her being dragged away by friends from different houses. with a heavy sigh, you made your way to the designated drink area, already questioning your decision of attending.
after grabbing a red, empty cup and filling it with spiked punch, you turn around and stand there looking around the room and taking in the view while sipping from your cup.
“hey hottie.” startled by an unfamiliar voice, you turn to your right and come face to face with cormac mclaggen - the persistent gryffindor who had been trying to woo you despite your relationship. his confident smirk is met with your nonchalant demeanor “heard you’re finally a free woman.” you roll your eyes, unimpressed, “piss off.” you state calmly before taking another sip and avert your gaze.
when theodore's eyes found you again, he saw mclaggen standing beside you. theodore couldn't help but feel uneasy as his gaze suddenly focused on the two of you. he knew too well that mclaggen had an unhealthy obsession with you and a reputation for being possessive. his eyebrows furrowed in slow anger, he watched the scene unfold with his jaw tightening involuntarily. theodore could sense that mclaggen had gone too far, and his tolerance was beginning to wear thin.
“oh come on sweetheart," he pleaded desperately, his hands gripping your waist tightly in a futile attempt to draw you closer to him. but you pushed him away, determined to break free from his grasp.
"fucking let go of me," you demanded, feeling disgusted by his touch. ignoring your command, he continued to hold onto you with a stubborn determination. "i don't think i wi—" his words were abruptly cut off as a punch landed square on his jaw, causing him to stumble backwards.
you stepped back in shock as your ex and mclaggen engaged in an intense physical fight, drawing the attention of others who gathered around them with murmurs and shouts.
as you stood there, trembling with fear and desperation, you mustered up all your strength to firmly grasp onto theo's arm and try to pry him away from the situation. your voice quivered as you exclaimed "theo, that's enough!"
but it was only when he felt your touch pulling him back that he finally stopped his aggressive actions. he made sure not to hurt you as he spat out angry Italian words towards the boy in front of him.
with a fierce glare, theodore warned the boy “se la tocchi ancora, cazzo, sei morto.” you quickly dragged him through the crowd, navigating through throngs of people until you reached the familiar staircase leading up to his dorm room.
despite his initial resistance, theo let himself be pulled along by your firm grip on his arm. once inside his room, he collapsed onto his bed in frustration and anger.
despite only sighing, you continue to search through his drawers in silence. after months had passed, you still remembered where you had left the small medkit and quickly retrieved it from its hiding spot. slamming it down on top of the drawer, your eyes begin to water as you gather supplies to clean off the blood from wounds.
theodore watched you silently, guilt piling up already within him. it was a surreal moment for you, helping your ex-boyfriend who had ended things between the two of you. turning around with watery eyes, you meet his gaze which softens upon seeing your tears.
you maintain your silence and proceed to gently wipe away the blood from his wounded face with the cloth. he watches you closely, visibly swallowing as he does so. "i'm sor-" he begins to say, but you quickly interrupt him, your voice shaking as you try to hold back tears. "don't you even dare apologize," your voice shakes with emotion as you struggle to hold back tears that threaten to spill over.
"(y/n)," he whispered, the sound of your name slipping from his lips causing you to feel a wave of emotions. tears began to flow down your cheeks as you gazed at him, meeting his gaze with a mixture of hurt and relief. without hesitation, he pulled you close to him on his bed, wrapping an arm around your waist. his heart ached, seeing how much pain he caused you. in between sobs, you heard him whispering apologies, begging for your forgiveness.
"fuck (y/n), i am so sorry. i know i messed up by breaking up with you. I can't even believe how stupid I was to let you go in the first place. please forgive me." his words were filled with remorse and regret as he held onto you tightly.
you bit your bottom lip, feeling it tremble as you buried your face into the boy's chest. with a heavy heart, you shook your head in disbelief. "no," you whimpered, the sound muffled against his shirt.
a deep ache settled in your chest as you mustered the courage to speak up. "you don't get to do this," you exclaimed, your voice quivering with emotion. you poked his chest for emphasis as you continued, "you can't just randomly break up with me and expect me to come running back to you like nothing happened!"
it was unfair. it was unjustified. and most of all, it hurt.
"you didn't even seem to have a reason to," you pried, pulling away from his embrace. but he wouldn't let go, his arm tightening around you possessively.
"i know i messed up," he whispered apologetically, his tone pleading for forgiveness. "i.. i was just being a coward. i should have gone talk to you but i didnt. and i regretted it everyday. but i promise i’ll make it right again”
your heart wavered at his words, torn between holding onto your anger and giving him another chance. you knew deep down that he still held a special place in your heart despite everything that had transpired between the two of you.
but could you really trust him again? could you risk getting hurt once more?
with a heavy sigh, you pushed away from him and looked into his eyes earnestly. "i-i don’t know," you spoke firmly yet gently. "i don’t want to end up getting hurt again," you trailed off, your voice vulnerable and hesitant. you couldn't bear the thought of going through the same pain and heartache that had left you broken before.
"and I promise you, you won't," he pleaded earnestly, his tone gentle yet determined. he could see the fear in your eyes and it pained him to know that someone had caused such deep scars on your heart."not ever again," he reassured, reaching out to gently rub your arm in a soothing gesture.
you raised your gaze to meet his, lifting your head from his chest with an unspoken question in your eyes. searching his features for any hints of hesitation or uncertainty, you couldn't help but nervously bite your lip - a small mannerism that always surfaced when you were anxious.
sensing your unease, he tenderly reached up and brushed away the tears and streaks of mascara that stained your cheeks. the gentle touch of his hand on your face caused you to lean into it, realizing in that moment just how much you had missed the intimate contact between you and him.
after a long moment of hesitation, you let out a resigned sigh and surrendered yourself to him, sinking into his embrace and resting your head on his chest. with a heavy heart, you whispered the words
"one chance" as your thoughts raced and your emotions battled within. yet, despite everything, you found the strength to give him one more opportunity to prove himself.
your voice was soft but resolute as you spoke, feeling his tense body relax as he heard your words. he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, expressing his gratitude for this chance. "thank you amore," he said sincerely.
"i missed you so fucking much." he announced. you only planted soft kisses on his cheek, uttering, "i missed you even more, Teddy..please don't act foolishly next time." he only grinned at your remark, nodding as he grabbed your chin, staring at your eyes, glancing at your lips as he hesitated, and you nod gently, giving him permission to pull you into a passionate soft kiss.
#emsnotion#slytherin boys#slytherin boys imagine#slytherin boys x reader#theodore nott#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott imagine#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter#—crimsntwlipᡣ𐭩
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you be my revolver, i got you in my hands
character: choso kamo x fem!reader
genre: curseless!au, smut
notes: eeee first choso piece ever!!! i had such a blast writing this and i wish i could’ve gotten it finished in time for christmas but alas! anyway, please enjoy this and as always please heed the warnings below and stay safe! | title credit: girl like me by dove cameron
warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, pseudocest (reader + choso are family friends), age gap, bratty reader, rough sex, minimal prep, teasing, hints of manipulation, hints of dubcon, size kink, pet names
words: 6k
synopsis:
“Maybe you should stop calling me that.”
“What? Why?” you pout, blinking up at him, sugared innocence coating your tone. “I thought you wanted me to call you big brother…I thought I was allowed to…”
“Bi-Big brothers don’t do stuff like this with their little sisters—”
“Well, it’s a good thing we’re not actually related then, isn’t it, onii-chan.”
Choso can’t remember the last time he saw you.
You’ve known each other for a long time—so long Choso’s lost count of the years, now, having met you when Yuuji was just a toddler (and you were, too) at the bus stop on Yuuji’s first day of Pre-K, only to discover you lived a mere few houses from each other—but you haven’t seen each other in a long time, too.
It’s not through fault of either of you; life had gotten in the way, as it has a tendency to do so, had grown busy with intricacies and obligations that demanded time and attention, tangling around you and keeping you apart.
You had both embarked on university endeavours; him pursuing his PhD, you continuing your undergrad, had both stuffed more and more into your lives—art shows and book readings and music festivals and tropical trips—and lost space for each other in the process.
Choso can’t remember the last time he saw you, but it feels as though no time has passed at all, as it normally does with family—you’re still just as bratty as you’ve always been (some things never change, he guesses; some things you’ll never grow out of, he supposes).
Family.
Family is not a word he uses lightly, but you and yours had quickly become his and theirs, had quickly become ours, morphing from neighbours to friends to practically kin, members mixing to form something special, a hybrid of some sort, stuck somewhere between long-standing family friends and blood relatives.
Which is why how you’re acting—how you’ve been acting, this entire winter break—is so undeniably inappropriate.
And although he’s lost track of the years, everything beginning to blur together, to melt and flow and shift and breathe, he still remembers the day he told you to call him onii-chan.
That he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget.
Yuuji’s so lucky, you had pouted, kicking at the sandy ground with the toe of your shoe and swaying a little on the swing. He has a big brother. I don’t. I’ve always wished I had one. Sighing, you looked away, fingers tangling in the chain. But I’ll never get one; it’s impossible.
It’s not impossible, Choso had responded gently, nudging his swing against your own. I’ll be your big brother, if you want.
And you—well, you had been so incredibly happy, all bright smiles and sunshine eyes and breathless giggles, to have a big brother to call your own.
Never in his life did he think he’d come to regret such a decision.
But you seem to be on a mission to make him, this Christmas.
Because you’re really testing his fucking patience, this Christmas.
The term of endearment oozes from your lips as if it’s melted in the wet heat of your mouth every single time, always paired with your worst behaviour: bending over in those short, sweet, slutty skirts and flashing cute Christmas panties at him; placing a hand much too high to be appropriate on his thigh as you watch a film together, leaning close to his ear to murmur out a silky question you already know the answer to; twining your ankles with his beneath the dinner table and gazing at him with eyes full of sin, leaning so far forward on the table that your tits swell, nearly spilling from the too-low neckline of your dress, then giggling when you catch him ogling.
As a result, he’s been meticulous about avoiding being alone in a room with you—he doesn’t trust himself, doesn’t trust what he might do, especially if you start playing your little games—but he should’ve known it would only be a matter of time until you get want you want.
Because it always is.
And on Christmas Eve, you finally succeed.
Somehow, you’ve managed to get him alone in his childhood bedroom—something about wanting to flip through his old sketchbooks, to search for some doodles he had drawn for you many years ago, to rip the pages from the spiral-bound spine and stuff them in your back pocket, for safekeeping, you had claimed.
Tugging at his heartstrings, that’s how you succeeded.
Sitting on the edge of his small twin bed, thighs slotted up against one another and both of your arms looped around one of his, he flips through the curling pages of his drawings, smudged with graphite and pastels.
“Oh, I remember this one!”
A dainty finger points to a cute kitten sketched out in astonishing detail, with a pink nose and a satin ribbon tied in a bow around its neck.
“It’s you,” he smirks. “You asked me what animal you’d be, and then demanded I draw you as a kitten when I responded with a cat.”
“You drew a lot of me,” you lean forward, swelling breasts pressed flush to his bicep, a palm sitting high on his thigh as avid eyes scan over the spread, gaze stuttering as it sweeps from doodle to doodle.
“I drew a lot for you,” he says, the observation entirely unthinking. “You wanted a specific page, but I might as well give you this whole sketchbook. More than half the pieces in here are for you.”
It’s a fact that shocks him in its authenticity, a realization that sends a painful, sick thrill searing through his body, saliva beginning to collect in the dips beneath his tongue.
“I’m such a lucky girl,” you hum out in a sigh, nuzzling your cheek into his arm and looking up at him with shimmering eyes. “I have such a good big brother.”
“You’re spoiled,” he says, but his voice holds no malice, eyes softening as he stares down at you, a small smile on his lips.
“I dunno about that,” you frown, but mischief glints in your eye. “You haven’t really given me what I’ve wanted all holiday…”
Blood turns to shards of ice in his veins, whole body going rigid as his breath stalls in his throat, pounding heartbeat reverberating in his ears.
“Wh-What’s that?”
He doesn’t want to ask it, doesn’t mean to ask it, but the question claws at his tongue, pries past his teeth and tumbles from his lips in a ragged, tangled heap.
And the smile that spreads across your face is nothing short of sinister, that glint flaring to a sharp shine as your pupils breathe, pulse, swallow him whole.
“A Christmas kiss,” you say, stare unblinking and intense as your hand slips between his legs, rubbing little circles into his inner thigh, a mere centimetre or two away from his cock.
The motion makes him jolt, hips involuntarily twitching toward your touch, brushing his half-hard cock against your knuckles.
“That’s all I want,” you sigh almost dreamily, tits pressed harder into his bicep as you lean closer, so tight they’re practically being squeezed from your sweetheart neckline. “A kiss from my onii-chan. Though…”
Trailing off, your hand slides up a little further, pinky and ring finger tiptoeing along the rapidly hardening lump in his jeans, squealing out a short giggle as it jumps beneath your touch.
“I’m not sure that’s all onii-chan wants.”
“Onii-chan doesn’t want anything from you,” he breathes out, but his voice is rough, unconvincing, his hands curled into firm fists on his bedspread, trembling slightly, skin stretched taut across pointed knuckles.
“Another lie,” your lips tug down, voice saturated with disappointment. “You know, good big brothers don’t lie to their siblings,” you fix him with a look, glaring through feathery lashes, expression teetering dangerously on the edges of a pout.
A shiver skitters through his bones, whole body stiffening. His jaw flexes as he grinds his molars, a slow, controlled breath exhaled out his nose, his eyes flicking down. You’re still touching him, two fingertips rubbing gentle circles into his clothed cock.
“Maybe you should stop calling me that.”
“What? Why?” you pout, blinking up at him, sugared innocence coating your tone. “I thought you wanted me to call you big brother…I thought I was allowed to…”
“Bi-Big brothers don’t do stuff like this with their little sisters—”
“Well, it’s a good thing we’re not actually related then, isn’t it, onii-chan.”
“That—That—” he swallows hard, dense saliva pooling at the back of his tongue. “That doesn’t matter—We shouldn’t—”
“But—” your lip juts out further, forehead crinkling. “But I want to.”
You can’t always get what you want.
That’s what he wants to tell you. That’s what he wishes he could tell you. But it just isn’t fucking true, when it comes to you.
“Stop,” he says instead, and although it’s supposed to be an order, it comes out as a plead, his voice hoarse, strained, thin, the proclamation high and false and tinny.
“You’re a terrible liar,” the tip of your index finger traces the head, looking up at him through your lashes. “Did you know that?”
He does, he does know that. He’s a terrible liar, eyes too honest, voice too sincere, expressions too candid, always giving away his true intentions and forthright thoughts.
He’s a terrible discipliner, too, incapable of saying no, of refusing his siblings anything. You know this, too.
“St—” he tries to force the word from his tongue again, protest sticking in his throat. Stop, stop, he wants you to stop, he needs you to stop, please.
But that’s a lie, too, the rejection refusing to take shape, to mold into something audible, something tangible, something worthwhile.
No matter how much he wishes it were true, he can’t will it to become true—not when he wants this just as badly as you do, his straining cock exposing his real desires to you.
You’ve already taken full notice of it, yearning for you through rough denim, hot and hard and throbbing. The pad of your finger rubs over the slit in rhythmic motions, smooth and gliding, aided by the copious amount of pre-cum oozing through the material, and it jerks beneath your touch, eager for more attention.
“It’s so hard, onii-chan,” your hand cups the impressive bulge, rolling it in your palm, a girlish giggle tickling your tongue. “It—It’s throbbing, onii-chan.”
“Yeah? And who’s fault is that?” he breathes, attempting to keep his tone stern and his eyes stony.
“It’s making me want to ride it,” you whimper loudly, squeezing your thighs together, completely ignoring his question. “Oh, please, onii-chan, can I ride your cock?”
“Fu-fuck,” the curse breaks on his tongue, eyes shut tightly, breaking away from your invasive stare. “Fuck, fuck, f-fuck.”
No.
“I’d really like to ride it, onii-chan.”
No.
“Can I? Pretty please?”
No-no-no-no-no!
He wants to say no. He should say no. It’s the right thing to do.
He’s the older brother, the eldest brother, it’s his duty to say no, to mentor, to lead by example.
But he can’t.
He can’t form the word in his throat, can’t mold it into a sound and push it from his mouth.
He’s never truly been able to, when it comes to you—and he was so fucking stupid to think he would.
Because, as always, you are making it exceptionally difficult to deny, gazing up at him with shimmering eyes like that, mouth licked raw in anticipation, bottom lip bitten puffy from the front teeth constantly sinking into it.
“I—It isn’t right—” he attempts, swallowing thickly, cords in his neck straining, desperately attempting to quell the tremor in his voice.
He knows you don’t care. If he’s being entirely honest with himself, he doesn’t, either, his morality eroded to nothing more than a farce, a thin façade, not nearly strong enough to force him into doing the right thing, not nearly strong enough to fortify his rapidly waning self-discipline.
“I—I won’t tell,” you whimper, and he can see the fine film of tears lacquering your eyes, shielding lust-blown pupils. “Pinky promise! I just—I just want you so badly,” your nose twitches cutely with a sniffle, your bottom lip beginning to waver with infinitesimal quivers, soft palm caressing his cock like you love it. “Please, onii-chan?”
And Christ, you’re so pretty, so pouty, with your glistening puppy-dog eyes and pleads dripping from your lips like thick syrup.
How could he possibly say no to something so precious? How could anyone?
“Alright,” he whispers, defeated, eyes squeezing shut as he nods. “If it’ll make you happy.”
“Really?”
And just like that, the tears are incinerated from your eyes, gaze bright and blazing with excitement, lips molded into a brilliant smile.
You look so sickeningly beautiful when you get what you want.
“Yes,” he nearly whimpers, and it’s pathetic, his hips twitching up into your touch, craving, desperate. “Yes, yes, ride my cock.”
The affirmative is all you need, squealing a little with happiness as you climb into his lap, fingers up your own skirt to push your soaked panties to the side, other hand pawing clumsily at his waistband.
“Thank you,” you breathe, the words soaking into his neck, sealed with a sloppy kiss. “Oh, thank you, onii-chan.”
He can’t help but chuckle a little as his hands find your waist, instinctive, steadying you.
“Eager little thing, aren’t you.”
“This is all I want,” you tell him, pulling back a little to search his face. “S’all I’ve wanted for a long time.”
He wants to ask you to elaborate on that, confusion warping his brow, but then you’re yanking at his belt loops and pulling at his zipper and wrapping a soft palm around the base of his cock, a heavy groan vibrating in his throat.
“Wait, wait!” he chokes on a gasp as you hover over his cock, head bumping against your hole. “Let me—”
“I don’t wanna wait,” you whine out, petulant and stringy, whole face scrunched in frustration. “I’ve been waiting! I want your cock in me now!”
Fuck, you’re such a fucking brat, he’s growling as he forces you down on his cock in one swift motion, the sudden intrusion pushing a yelp from your lips. Your forehead knocks against his, sugar-stained breath wafting across his face, his tongue darting out to mop up remnants from his mouth.
It’s really cute, the way your little cunt spasms around his shaft as he bottoms out, pressed snug and tight against your cervix, desperate in its attempt to adjust to his girth. It’s really sweet, the way your body splits itself open for him, cracking at the core and struggling to swallow him down.
“Oh, it’s so big, onii-chan!”
“God,” he nearly sobs. “You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me, y’know that?”
Giggling, you wind your arms around his neck tighter, nuzzling your cheek into his skin, then stringing a garland of wet kisses along the line of his jaw.
“S’really thick, Choso-nii,” you tell him honestly, nodding in lethargic little motions. “I feel so full, onii-chan.”
A laugh falls from his lips, breathy and exalted.
“I don’t know if it’s that I’m big, or if it’s just that your cunt is so fucking small,” his voice tapers off into a whine, raspy and gruff.
“H-Hurts a little, onii-chan,” you admit in a whimper, hips shifting in experimental little movements, conjuring a groan from deep within his chest.
“Yeah? And who’s fault is that, huh?” he asks for the second time in fifteen minutes. “Who was too impatient to let onii-chan prep her?”
“Don’t care,” you mumble. “Wanted you s’bad.”
He laughs again, warm and gentle and full of love, his hands squeezing your hips just enough to make you gasp, fingertips pressing his name into your flesh in blotchy little ovals of purple.
“You have me,” he says, his words ringing clear and true with a painful sincerity.
The vibrations of your responding hum seep from your chest into his, and he sighs, body deflating against yours, pleasant little tingles snuggling between his ribs.
You stay like that for a moment to two, wound up in one another, chests pressed flush, breathing as one. Your auras ebb and flow, presences bleeding, tangling together and creating something that is neither one nor the other but both, a single shared entity.
And it’s nice, it’s real, it’s natural.
But then you become impatient, as you normally do, as he knew you would, wiggling a little in his lap, fingers twining in the strands at the base of his neck.
“Go on, sweetheart,” he urges gently. “Ride onii-chan’s cock.”
And so you do, hips beginning to roll in slow, languid circles, fingers still laced at the back of his skull, half-buried in messy ink.
He allows you to set the pace, allows you to take your time, allows you to enjoy and savour every rock and grind and bounce, staring at you through heavily lidded eyes, hands on your waist merely guiding you—keeping you stable, just like a big brother should.
He’s absolutely breathtaking; gaze glittering in the dim light overflowing with awe, spit-slicked lips licked raw and shimmering as his tongue glides over them again, swollen and bitten cherry red.
You can’t help but reach out to trace his features; the strong line of his brow, the delicate curve of his cheek, the enticing bow of his lips, hips slowing to uneven little ruts as you hone your focus, his eyes observing you with a sick sort of fascination.
“Did you—Have you—Have you thought about this before?”
The question stings his tongue, revulsion flushing through his blood as guilt pricks his flesh, his cock throbbing eagerly.
“Course I have,” you breathe out with a little laugh, as if he’s so silly for thinking you might not have. “Actually, I—I—”
A sudden shyness overtakes you, an unsure giggle on your lips fading into a soft squeal as you hide in his shoulder, shaking your head a little.
“What? Huh?” he shrugs, nudging your face up gently, curiosity clawing at his irises as they search your face, voracious. “What?”
“Well, sometimes I…”
The words tangle in your throat and you choke on them, gaze fleeing his own, and you shake your head again, chest beginning to stammer.
“It’s okay,” he says softly, rubbing reassuring circles into your flesh. “You can tell onii-chan, go on.”
There are tears in your eyes now, mouth wobbling a little with the verging confession, and God, that’s so hot, why is that so fucking hot?
“Where’s my brave little sister gone now? Hmm?”
“M’right here, onii-chan,” you whisper, face teetering on a wince, as if you’re bracing for a blow, terrified to admit to him, fearing reprimand. “It’s just that—Sometimes I do, um, really bad things with my stuffies while—while thinking about you…”
Dewdrops of shame glitter in your lashes as your lids flutter, nose scrunching with a soft sniffle, tears breaking free of their wispy confines to roll down your cheeks in fat, glimmering streams—so fucking beautiful in the dim light of his bedroom—but you don’t dare break his stare, gazing at him through a thick shield of water.
“Oh, Christ,” he coughs on the curse, hands flexing on your waist, blunt nails digging into your skin. “And what—what do you think about?”
“Um,” your gaze flits from his own, to his wrinkled bedspread, then back to his face, wide and honest. “Riding you, like this. And—And riding your thighs, makin’ a real mess all over them, and your thick fingers too, filling me up…”
Bolts of dizziness sear his brain as his lungs deflate, oxygen eaten up by pure lust and leaving his chest buzzing, burning, some sort of response mangling itself in his throat, escaping his lips as nothing more than a cracked moan.
“Do you think about me, onii-chan?”
Your question pulls him from the depths of his hedonism and he blinks, your face swimming into view, a peculiar mix of hope and cognizance infusing your expression, eyebrows raised with false curiosity, a smirk twitching on your lips.
Ah, there she is, that brat he knows so well, that brat he’s come to crave, every ounce of uncertainty eradicated from your face, replaced with assured confidence, contradicting the tears still staining your cheeks.
You fucking know he does.
And, oh, how he wishes he was stronger, how he wishes he could lie, how he wishes he could devour the smugness in your eyes and complacency in your smile, to humble you, to knock you from your high throne.
He settles for a kiss instead, mouth crushed to yours as a large hand cups your head, thumb pressing into your ear, fingertips dragging across your scalp as he yanks you closer.
It hurts, his front teeth scraping against your lip as he practically gnaws his way to your tongue, his own big and thick and so fucking strong as it overwhelms yours, shoving it further into the cavern of your mouth and forcing it to stay put as he explores.
He’s making a real mess as he slathers over your molars, over the inside of your cheeks and the backs of your teeth, drenching your mouth in him. Drool oozes steadily from the corners, collecting along the underside of his bottom lip and leaving his chin sticky and slick.
“Yes,” he whispers, eyes shut so tightly his whole forehead crinkles, mouth wet and sliding against your own. “Yes, yes, I think about you—much too often.”
Nose nudging yours, he nuzzles into your face a little, planting a chaste kiss to your lips, then peppering a few more, quick and sloppy, around your mouth.
“But right now, I don’t want to think about anything. I just want to feel you creaming all over my cock—you think you can do that for me, princess?” His palms cushion your cheeks, thumbs swiping across your cheekbones, then brushing strands of damp hair from your temples. “You think you can do that for your onii-chan?”
Yes you can, of course you can, you’re nodding, blinking the last remnants of tears from your eyes, rapid movement eliminating the final stubborn drops, clinging delicately to your outer lashes.
“S’it, baby,” he encourages as your hips start moving again, working up a steady rhythm. “Just like that, good girl.”
A mewl slips from your lips, burrowing your scalding face in his sticky neck again, his undivided attention almost too much to bear.
“Like it when you call me a good girl,” you murmur, lips dragging across his skin with the confession, streaking him with thick glimmers of spit.
“Is that so?” he laughs a little, pressing a few kisses to the crown of your head. “That’s because you don’t hear it often.”
Lifting your head, you scowl at him, though there’s no heat to your glare, fury dimmed by fondness, unable to smother the smile playing with your lips.
A dazzling smile spreads across his own face in response, and he laughs again, his eyes so bright, so brilliant they almost hurt, blazing like two small suns, scorching your skin as his gaze glides over it.
He watches you like a man possessed, a man obsessed, entirely entranced by the way pleasure passes over your face, twisting your features into the cutest little winces as you grind the head of his cock against your cervix, then smoothing them out with bliss as his shaft drags along your favourite spot, bouncing in shallow little motions to rub over that fleshy patch hard and fast, a stream of mewls spilling from your lips, stitched together with his honorific.
“You’re so pretty when you ride my cock,” he groans, words tapering off into a hoarse whimper, as if it pains him to admit it.
His palms run up your sides, fingers counting over each rib, hands committing every dip and curve and bulge to memory, marvelled by the way you fill his grip, as if he can’t believe you’re real, you’re here, you’re his—even if just for tonight.
“Yeah, yeah, keep going, use onii-chan like a toy, sweetheart.”
And he tries to be patient, he swears he does—tries not to rush you, tries to relish in the moment, in each swirl of your hips and every puff of his name—except your pace never accelerates, never moves past anything but teasing as you use his now aching cock to continually edge yourself; moans building higher and higher, louder and louder, on the cusp of the crest before they disintegrate into nothing and you start the process all over again, the delicate fluttering of your cunt enough to drive him fucking insane with desire.
It has his entire form trembling with such vigour it’s quivering the mattress, muscles locked stiff and tight as he tries to keep from moving, from bucking up wildly, from forcing you to speed the hell up. Rough fingers sink into your flesh so deep it dimples, a pathetic attempt to ground himself, rapidly blooming bruises staining your flesh.
But he’s powerless to stifle the whines leaking through the gaps of his gritted teeth, hands flexing on your hips, whole body pulled taut with restraint.
He’s sure you can feel his cock twitching inside of you, eager and impatient, begging you to move faster, to fuck him harder.
But you aren’t going to do any of that—not unless he asks for it, he realizes dimly, after you bring yourself to near orgasm for the third time in a row, giggling a little at his crestfallen expression, his hair having fallen almost completely from its trademark spiky buns, braided fishermen sweater soaked with sweat and sticking to his now heaving chest.
He really thought it was real this time. He really thought you were finally going to cream all over him, so he could finally flip you over and fuck you properly, pound you into the mattress and stuff that pretty, cute little cunt to the goddamn brim with his seed.
He’d been trying so hard to be nice, to be the loving, doting, good big brother he is—but he’s also only human, and there’s only so much misbehaviour he can bear before, finally, he snaps.
Because, sure, big brothers are meant to care for, to lead and to nurture, but they’re also meant to teach, to punish, to put bratty little sisters back in their fucking place.
“You think I don’t know what you’re doing? Huh?” his grip on your hips tightens, halting you from moving. “You think I’m fucking stupid?”
“Never, Choso-nii,” you gasp, astonished. “I would never—”
Sincerity rings in your voice, but he can see it, the mischief tugging at the corners of your mouth, barely suppressed by your façade of innocence.
Anyone else would’ve been fooled—enchanted by your doe eyes and your dainty voice.
But not him.
No, he knows better now.
“Bullshit,” he cuts you off, eyes narrowed sharply. “You wanted to ride my cock, but you’re clearly incapable of it—”
“No I’m not!”
“—So it looks like I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”
“No! I—I can do it!” you cry, face crumpled in fury, nails scrabbling at his shoulders.
“You lost your chance to prove it to me,” he growls.
The world flips suddenly, momentarily a blur of inks and ivories, a breath of surprise punched from your ribs as your back slams against the mattress, trapped between the bedspread and your big brother’s heaving chest.
“You have been testing me all fucking holiday,” he snarls, specks of spit splattering across your cheeks. “Onii-chan shouldn’t give you his cum—onii-chan shouldn’t have given you his cock at all!”
A certain type of haughtiness corrodes your shock, lips spreading into a pompous smirk.
“Oh, but you just couldn’t help yourself, could you, onii-chan.”
“You little bitch!”
His hips shove forward, forcing you further into the plush of the mattress, cockhead ramming against your cervix. A little noise of pain vibrates on the back of your tongue, shattering your arrogance, and a grin smears across his face, glinting in the moonlight.
“I think it’s time your big brother teach you a lesson in respect.”
“Y-Yeah? And how are you gonna do that?”
“You’re going to take what onii-chan gives you, and you’re going to fucking like it. And then, at the end, when you’ve gone stupid from the cock you don’t deserve, you’re going to thank me for giving it to you at all. Do you understand me?”
Defiance shines in your eyes, lacquered by a thin coating of tears, nose scrunching up in a glower.
A rough thumb and forefinger, hardened by charcoals, clamps around your jaw, squeezing your cheeks with such force that your mouth puckers, a sticky little whine squealing in your throat.
“Do you understand me?” he asks again, each word said slow with purpose, each word annunciated with intent, his eyes boring into yours, sharp and painful.
Finally, those tears push past your bloated lashes, shoved from your eyes by rapid blinking and rolling down your cheeks in glistening pairs, a half-stifled hiccup stuttering your chest.
“Y-Yes,” you whisper, nose twitching.
“What was that? Onii-chan couldn’t hear you.”
“Yes, onii-chan.”
“Good girl.”
And then his hips are snapping, hard and fast and immediate, fucking into you with such ruthlessness that it jostles your body up the bed, sheets collecting in little wrinkled bunches beneath you. Your nails sink into his shoulders, piercing flesh through the knit of his sweater, the muscles in your thighs tensing as your ankles hook around his waist, his shirt riding up, your heels digging into the those cute little dimples that cushion the base of his spine.
It hurts, every pound of his cock producing a dull, throbbing ache low and deep in your gut, another torrent of tears rushing to flood your vision.
“Ch-Choso-nii, Ch-Choso-nii,” you whimper, face screwed up in pain, his name stuttered by his rapid thrusts.
“What’s the matter?” he pouts, and it’s so condescending, dripping from his lips in an over-exaggerated coo. “Can’t take onii-chan’s cock?”
The question wafts across your face in a panted breath and you lick at your lips, sopping it up with your tongue.
“N-No,” you say, and that telltale brattiness is back, watered down by his viciousness. “I can do it—I-I can do it for you, onii-chan.”
A throaty curse escapes his lips, thrusts stammering out of rhythm for a moment as his cock twitches, and a helpless giggle bubbles up in your throat.
Even angry, he’s still so fucking easy.
He regains his composure quickly, though, face hardened to stone but beginning to splinter with pleasure.
“Brat,” he breathes out, though there’s mirth shining in his eyes, pure and fond and full of love. “You better.”
And even angry, he still sounds so fucking pretty; cracked moans and dense groans and choked gasps, all flowing from his mouth in a single stream, fractured by the piston of his hips.
The pain doesn’t fade, of course—it barely diminishes at all, the sheer massiveness of his cock making it near impossible to be dispelled, keeping the cramping pang in the pit of your belly steady and constant—but it does amplify the pleasure, nerves gnawed raw by the agony, left hypersensitive to the sparks of ecstasy that blaze through your veins with every quick, rough pump of his hips, every deep, hard slam against your bruised cervix, every rapid drag over that engorged spot.
It leaves you feeling high, leaves you feeling stupid, brain melting in a hot haze of lust and rendering you incapable of forming a single coherent thought beyond how incredible his cock is, his name and his title the only two things your sloppy, numb tongue can fully scrape together.
It’s all so much, too much, but it all feels so fucking good—s’good, Choso-nii, y’r so-so good—sentiment vibrating indistinctly in your chest.
“Yeah, sweetheart?” he asks, words gone wispy, fading into a whine. “Does your onii-chan’s cock make you feel good?”
Yes, yes, yes, onii-chan, it’s so good, you’re so good!
Your head nods frantically, fingers curling in the collar of his sweater, a mess of affirmatives fucked from your mouth.
“Y’know, you’re kinda cute when you’re too cockdrunk to misbehave,” he chuckles a little, biting back a moan as your cunt clenches at the compliment. “May-Maybe onii-chan should fuck you stupid more often, huh?”
Oh, God, yes, onii-chan; oh, please, onii-chan!
“Yeah, you’d like that a bit too much, though, wouldn’t you, you little sl—ah—slut.”
Drool dribbles from the sides of your mouth as you continue nodding, eyes wide and unblinking, encrusted with stars.
“Y’so pretty, onii-chan,” you manage to mumble out, sentiment tangled in threads of spit, fingers flexing in the fabric of his sweater, as if they yearn to touch but can’t find the strength to carry out the action.
And he is, so beautiful it’s borderline sickening, strands of onyx plastered to his cheeks, his jaw, his neck, strung together in clumps and saturated in sweat; damp skin glittering in the waning moonlight spilling through the slits of his window, dewdrops catching delicately in the beams as he pounds into you, every drive of his cock accelerating his pace.
“W-Wan’your cum now,” you slur the demand through a lax pout, lids beginning to weight with exhaustion, heavy as they frame dopey eyes.
“Yeah?” he laughs a little, gaze shining with adoration, and it’s breathless, it’s beautiful, his affection wafting over your scalding face. “Onii-chan needs you to cream all over his cock first. Can you—” a grunt cuts him off, and he whimpers, pushing through his sentence, his voice strained. “Can y’do that for me, angel?”
“Uh-huh, uh—uh-huh,” your head begins nodding more fervently again, pushing your lids open with some effort to stare up at him, pupils swelling with devotion and determination.
“Then show me—Show me how gorgeous my good girl looks when she’s making a mess all over her big brother’s cock.”
Three more thrusts and your cunt is obeying, convulsing on his thick shaft as heat gushes around him, so much that you can hear it—a sick, slick squelching as he jackhammers into you, your essence coating his thighs in a shiny layer of arousal.
“Oh, fuck,” his eyes shut tightly before springing open again, suddenly rabid, ravenous.
The bed creaks as his hips speed up, skin sticky with arousal as it slaps against your own, the sharp sound mingling with his ragged pants and your hitched mewls.
“Onii—Nii-chan,” you nearly wail, fingers tangling weakly in the hair at the nape of his neck, nails scraping against his flesh. “Please, please, cum, gimme—gimme y’r cum!”
“Greedy little thing,” he rasps out, voice cracking into a whine.
But you don’t care, you can’t care, pleads spilling from your lips as your thighs tense around his waist, hips twitching in erratic little motions, crudely trying to fuck yourself on him.
“Need it, need it, onii-chan, fill my belly with it, onii-chan, please!”
“Christ,” he chokes on the curse, pace faltering as he finally gives his baby sister what she wants, cock throbbing almost violently while it fills you with hot, thick cum, so much you swear you really can feel it, stuffing your belly as full as it can be, tummy bulging cutely with his seed.
You must tell him that, sentiment slipping from your lips without your permission, because he moans again, his cock giving another weak spurt, hips stuttering as he tries to fuck further into you, grinding the head into your sore cervix.
“Yeah, yeah,” you’re murmuring, hips rolling up to meet his own. “Push it into me, onii-chan, push it into my cunt nice n deep, do-don’t waste a single drop!”
“You really are gonna be the death of me,” he whines, face buried in your hair as he collapses on top of you, hips still moving in lazy little circles, shudders of overstimulation rippling through his form.
“Mm,” you hum, on the cusp of unconsciousness, nuzzling your face into his neck like a kitten, then lapping at a few droplets of sweat streaming down the column. “What are lil sisters for?”
#choso x reader#choso smut#choso x you#choso kamo x reader#choso kamo smut#choso kamo x you#this ended up being waaaay longer than i originally indended#absolutely no one is surprised#tw:pseudocest
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