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satoruhour · 4 months

Note

nanami who loves his sweetheart gf so much bcs she's so good to him (giving him the nastiest head and taking his thick cock like a champ)

a/n: sorry guys ty for waiting, finally got the theme up! enjoy x / very fun to witness these three @marimogf @jabamin @redskyvenus ’s live reactions last night LOLOL (1.5k)

warnings: fem!reader, dry humping, semi-public oral (m! receiving), almost getting caught, deep throating, cumshot on face, brief unprotected p -> v sex, gojo being annoying as always, n*sfw under the cut

nanami never forces you into anything you don’t want to do — you’re not too big on changing the deteriorating dresser because it was a gift from your mom, nor were you keen on changing from echire to yotsuba hokkaido butter even if the former option was a little pricier. he simply accepts it because you could do no wrong in his eyes, but this, he feels that you’re hurling head first into this.

he can’t help but check his watch every few seconds even when the meeting was supposed to be fifteen minutes later, while you sat obediently in his lap with arms around his neck. he keeps sparing glances toward the locked door, too, and you only bring his face back to you with a frown.

“do you not want me to?”

“no— no! no, darling, i’m just worried if i’m forcing you into anything since you’re not one to reject often. are you sure?”

and if nanami wasn’t sure about your answer before, you lean forward to press another kiss to his lips, slipping your tongue in just to feel his. under you, you can feel him growing against your cunt, grinding down against his bulge until he starts groaning softly. you take the opportunity to kiss down his neck, infectious giggles affecting him, too when you feel a smile appearing on his face.

he lets you do anything always (you could do no wrong), letting you loosen his tie and unbuttoning the first button of his shirt just to mark the skin there. it blooms into a bluish-black, something that you admire after sucking at his neck. he makes sure your hips don’t stop, either, large hands planted on your ass to keep you grinding.

“kento . .” you mumble, thighs around his body tightening and tensing up as you hump your clothed core into his hard-on, the restriction of fabric so irritating yet exciting. and he responds by moving his hips into yours as well, mumbling praises into your lips — but, as always, gojo has to be annoying.

nanami grunts when he hears a message notification sound out.

[9:54am, gojo -> nanami]: HEELLLOOOO GOOD MORNING NANAMI !!! r you comin to the meeting in 5 min????? i think the higher-ups want cams on btw ~~~

he gives you an apology at having been interrupted, but you don’t mind when you’re patting his cheek and leaving his lap to get to your knees, smiling from under his desk. he’s just glad gojo isn’t here physically to see nanami be so filthy, mentioning something about going to the countryside for some nasty curse, but you? he’s so thankful you didn’t twist your face one bit at his request (“are you up for some . . mischief during the higher-ups meeting, doll?”).

the way he asked too was cute, feeling the lewd words get stuck in his throat but you know what he’s referring to anyway, quieting his fears last night with one sweet kiss.

and nanami spares one last glance to you, a grateful smile before he clicks into the meeting, turning on the camera. only then do you get to work, letting nanami feel a sense of security before you’re unbuckling his belt and removing the underwear. as usual, the sight of his cock never fails to give a chill right down to your pussy, hearing him hiss when the air touches his shaft.

“pretty,” you mumble to yourself, wrapping a careful hand around his length before you’re pumping him to full hardness, swirling your tongue around his tip just a little to test the waters. you knew these meetings never needed for the sorcerers to turn their mics on, so you could be as sloppy as you wanted to.

before long, you start bobbing your head and his hands drop to his thighs to squeeze at it because your mouth just feels so damn warm, mirroring exactly how your pussy felt just last night.

even with the mic off, you try to keep the sloppy gurgling noises to a minimum, but it’s proving difficult when there was just so much saliva. with one hand, you’re stroking the base of his cock and the other plays with his balls, squeezing and fondling when you hear nanami groan out loud. you grin.

you know he’s already checking the microphone symbol every second, but your mouth just does that: make the ever stoic nanami lose control over everything.

“s-shiit . . baby,” he mutters, hiding his mouth with his hand, “mouth feel so fuckin’ good, darlin’.”

you hum from under the table, like a devil’s temptation and nanami caves so easily, glancing down to see you take his fat cock like a champ. there you are, spit and pre-cum smeared all over your face as you lick the underside of his length from its base right to his tip before tapping his cock on your tongue, slaps reverberating throughout his office.

“good girl,” he grins, rolling his office chair closer to you just to see his cock enter your mouth again before a resounding first-grade sorcerer nanami kento, is everything okay? comes through his laptop speakers and he scrambles, eyes blown wide and fingers searching for the unmute button.

“everything is fine, gakuganji-san, just—” nanami clears his throat, “thought there was a bug on the floor.”

the higher-ups don’t care, frankly, but the thrill was still there; at being found out, at being caught. blindly, he reaches for your head, watching his reflection in the meeting call just to make sure he isn’t making any suspicious faces before he’s pulling you right onto his cock.

“mmph—!” you let nanami use your mouth, bringing you right down to the base of his cock where your nose met with his blonde pubes, and you try your best to breathe through your nose. your nails dig into the sides of his thighs, prompting him to look down again and nanami gives himself some leeway. if the higher-ups didn’t care, he wouldn’t either, looking at his baby kneeled under the table so adorably.

“you’re taking it so well, doll, fuck,” he swears, feeling sweat run down his back from just how collected he’s trying to look on camera, “still bein’ a pretty girl even with all that cock down your throat.”

his words make your pussy throb, but you’re too busy trying not to gag when his tip touches the back of your throat; one sound from you is enough, though, for nanami to pull you off of him, easily finding your chin and grabbing hold of it. with repeated glances to the screen and you, he decides that your stuck out tongue is too pink and perfect to waste it on paying attention to a lame meeting.

with the other hand nanami starts pumping his cock, moaning shamelessly, now. his lips part in low profanities and groans, spurred on by the wet shlicks of his stroking hand that gathers both his pre and your saliva. even without words, you sit there with tongue out and eyes trained on him, just begging and asking.

“please, kento,” and then the words send him into overdrive, “wan’ your cum all over my face.” his grunts turn louder, choked and strained and he’s sure his quads are pulled so tautly from how close he is to cumming.

“c— close, ’m gonna give it all to you, yeah?” you nod, scooting closer on your knees while his hand switches to quicker strokes, desperate for release until you make the mistake of suckling on his tip, the added stimulation making his cock twitch and soon your mouth is full of his cum. it overflows so much that it spills onto your face, too, his hot, thick seed covering your cheeks in white.

“o-oh . . fuuuck, doll,” nanami continues to pump himself, drunk on ecstasy as his whole body shakes and your grin while licking the cum from your face, cleaning up perfectly until you’re turning around and presenting your ass to him. he almost ends the call right there and then, staring hypnotised at your unclothed pussy that you must have taken off when he wasn’t looking.

like always, you can do no wrong, wriggling your ass back just onto his still weeping tip until he can just barely feel the warmth of your pussy and he chokes out your name again.

“c—can’t . .”

“can’t, or won’t, kento?” you scooch back again onto his dick, juices dripping from your pretty cunt that he exhales. gakuganji is wondering what’s wrong again though so he calls on your boyfriend again and he answers with a callback to his previous reply — “s-sorry, gakuganji-san, it wasn’t a bug but rather an arachnid. y-yeah, they scare the crap out of me, so please continue on without me.”

the camera’s and mic’s off and nanami simply falls from his office chair, fully sheathing himself in you with a loud whiny moan. he wastes no time, thrusting into your tight pussy and obsessing over how it wraps around him like a vice, too drunk on you to notice another notification from the annoying sorcerer.

[10:23am, gojo -> nanami]: didn’t know u were freaky like that. care to invite me next time?

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #nanami smut #nanami kento smut #nanami kento jjk #nanami x reader #nanami kento #kento nanami smut #kento nanami x reader #jjk thirsts #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jujutsu kaisen x you #nanami x you #kento nanami #jjk nanami smut #jjk nanami x reader

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euseokz · 14 days

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@ eunseok — i always know how much you need me baby, so i give you just enough to not leave you hanging . cws : dry-humping . use of nicknames (good girl) . finger sucking . wc : 0.7k+ . genre : smut

FWB! EUNSEOK who has been teasing you all day, sending nasty texts and leaving you all hot and bothered on purpose, but who is surprised when he gets to your apartment at night and finds you on your bed with nothing but your underwear on, one of your hands already sneaking under your panties.

“are you that needy already?” he asks almost playfully, with a teasing tone, his usual smirk painted on his lips. you don’t reply, simply whining and pressing your fingers over your clit harder, too horny to have the usual back and forth you two share. “i’ll take that as a yes” eunseok adds right after.

he walks to you and plants his hands on your body, pulling your wrist out from your panties and guiding you to straddle him while he sits on your bed. he looks at your digits that had been down your panties seconds prior, how they’re shiny with your arousal, strings of your slick connecting them. eunseok has to hold back a grunt, instead guiding them to his mouth, sucking on your fingers and tasting you while looking directly into your eyes, humming when you whine surprised. he lets go not too long after, planting his hands on your hips and pulling you to him, pushing you down against his bulge, his loose pants doing nothing to hide the obvious tent. it looked painful almost, even through his clothes, his dick twitching and a grunt finally leaving him when he feels your soaked panties press against him, eyes now focused there.

“i want you to cum against me like this, can you do that?” eunseok asks, voice sultry, his words coming as more of a request than a demand. when you nod, biting your bottom lip while already moving yourself ever so slightly against his covered cock, eunseok groans again, smiling before saying a simple “good girl”.

you move your hips slowly, pressing down just enough for him to feel how your folds part around his bulge, only leaving your panties wetter, a dark patch eventually staining eunseok's pants too. you're soaked, and incredibly needy, humping against him at a fastening pace, moaning and whining about how good it feels, your hands landing on eunseok's shoulders as your nails dig into them, bunching up the fabric of his shirt between your fingers and pressing down harshly against his skin. eunseok can feel the warmth of your pussy, his bottoms thin enough that he even feels how your clit twitches almost in sync with his dick. he guides his hands to your hips and grips them hard, deciding to now set the pace, moving you faster while pressing you more roughly against himself. you allow it without complaining, moaning his name and digging your nails deeper into his skin, pleasure blooming between your legs, a hot wave taking over your middle.

lust clouds your brain as your eyelids feel heavy and fall close, your head resting back and giving eunseok perfect access to kiss and suck on your neck, making you wonder if that was what heaven felt like. your orgasm was close, each stroke of your covered cunt against eunseok’s prominent bulge only driving you closer to the edge — the man under you not finding himself in a much better state, his mind flooded with nasty thoughts as he wrapped his lips around the sensitive skin of your throat, feeling as his cock twitched, his teeth sinking into you and a guttural grunt escaped him when he came, milky cum dampening his underwear, his orgasm only an excuse for eunseok to move you faster against himself, his nails now digging into your sides as he guided you, making you reach your peak sooner than later, a silent moan leaving you as your mouth fell open when your high finally hit you, crashing into you hard.

eunseok started slowing down the pace until you were barely moving your hips against his, finally pulling back to look at you, moving to cup your cheeks, his eyes hooded and glossy with arousal as he spoke.

“see? i’m always good to you baby, always give you enough to leave you an absolute mess without even needing to push my cock into you”

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jaeyunzzx · 4 months

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MY FAVOURITE BOY — LEE HEESEUNG

contains ftm!reader, use of the word “cunt” and “clit”, however clit is also referred to as “dick” lol, crying, sweet heeseung, bottom male reader, use of the word “hyung”

in which heeseung just wants to please you, and sometimes it can go on for hours.

a/n: ima start writing for both top and bottom male reader coz why not lol

You sighed softly, eyes feeling heavy as another wave of pleasure crashed into your body violently; like sea water washing over a beach shore. It was heavy and caused all the air in your lungs to be knocked out; merciless and hot, that’s how it felt. Heeseung showed no signs of stopping though, not even when tears slowly started to gather in your eyes, nor when your blunt fingernails dug into his back; a deadly scream ripping through your throat not long after.

“So tight f’me aren’t ya baby?” Heeseung panted, his hips snapping forward whilst his cock drove itself even deeper inside you; almost splitting you in half. You knew you’d feel the remnants of this all later, Heeseung always made sure your pussy was still recovering from his cock days after sex, he wanted you to feel every part of him forever; he wanted your hole to practically fit his cock and his cock only.

You loved it as well, the sore feeling when you woke up, the constant reminder of how Heeseung claimed you as his, made sure that if any guy ever tried speaking to you, all you’d need to do is clench your thighs together and feel your still very sore clit against the fabric of your boxers. It was thrilling, and you’d never get tired of it, even if he had done it a million times there was nothing that could remove the sheer desire and pleasure you got from just feeling how Heeseung absolutely destroyed you.

“Hee..no more, m’so sensitive” you whined, even if you didn’t necessarily want him to stop, the feeling of his cock was to good to give up, you did however start to feel as though you’d pass out. You’ve both been at it for ages and you’re beginning to think you’d simply fall asleep then and there; which wouldn’t be fair on Hee’s part mind you.

Heeseung grunted, peppering soft kisses against your sweaty neck, tasting the overly salty liquid on his tongue. He grimaced for a minute, before ignoring the unpleasant taste and going back to leaving more marks on your pretty skin. “I know baby, you’re tired hm? Just give me one more” Heeseung mumbled, one more felt like a million miles away, but with the pace the elder was going at you probably wouldn’t last long; that and with how sensitive your poor cunt was.

Heeseung huffed, snapping his hips into you faster as his hand reached down to play with your clit, “just one more orgasm for hyung ok? I know you can do it, you’re always such a good boy for your hyung aren’t you?”

God Heeseung was going to be the death of you.

You choked out a moan, body twitching evidently as Heeseung continued to toy with you, his fingers always knew how to please you; it was fascinating really. “You love it when hyungie plays with your dick huh? Does it make you feel good baby?” Heeseung groaned, pinching your t-dick between his fingers causing you to yelp loudly.

“I asked you a question”

“Yes! Heeseung! Hyung! Yes, I love it- please!” You yelled out, the feeling of your worn out body tensing up was enough to let you and your boyfriend know you were close. Heeseung smirked, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your swollen lips, his tongue sneaking its way into your mouth as his hips faltered slightly; breaking the fast pace they were going at.

“Gonna cum baby, shit, gonna fill you up so well ok?” Heeseung managed to say, his hot breath fanned over your lips and all you managed to do was nod pathetically, whining softly as if you weren’t begging for it enough; especially with the way your hole clenched around his cock, you were practically milking him dry.

Heeseung gritted his teeth, leaning down to kiss you once more before he came with a loud groan. The feeling of him filling you up was enough to make you come too, the orgasm you had was weak, but pleasant enough to cause your legs to shake around Heeseung’s waist.

“Fuck baby, you were amazing for me” Heeseung praised, pressing yet another kiss to your sweaty skin, this time it was you forehead, and he did his best to ignore the salty taste on his lips.

“I need a bath” you muttered, wincing slight when you felt Heeseung pull out of you, a bath sounded heavenly, but you knew your body didn’t have the energy to even do so at this point; Heeseung to note of that too.

“Later, rest for now, I can tell you’re tired” he spoke with a reassuring smile and took his time to grab some tissues on the bedside table. He first cleaned you up, he was careful not to press too hard on your cunt, knowing how sensitive you probably were. Then just as you slowly drifted off to sleep he decided to gently dap a clean tissue over your forehead, cleaning you of at least some of the sweat before he kissed you once more.

@jaeyunzzx 2023-2024 — please do not repost, plagiarise or translate any of my works on any other platform nor on tumblr itself.

#alex posts!!#male reader #x male reader #enhypen x male reader #enhypen smut #enhypen #bottom male reader #ftm reader #lee heeseung #lee heesung x reader #lee heeseung x male reader #enhypen heeseung #x bottom male reader

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k-hotchoisan · 5 months

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HI BABES MY LOVE MY DARLING I AM HERE TO REQUEST dammit i hate that it goes from my other acc tho ):<

BUT 13 PLSPSLPSLSPSLSPXLSPXPSLXPSLDPDPSP LUCKY NUMBER 13 AHAHAHA

also congrats on 500 babes you deserve the recognition and more <3 <3 <3 xoxo love u

13. San choking you while riding his orgasm or Deny Yunho’s orgasm?

HELLO MY ANGEL MY BABY MY DARLING MY SWEETPEA YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND ✨ this was a tough choice btw got me sweating a little.

Where you decide to pull San’s strings on how long he can last through the stupid bet he made with his friends of not cumming for the whole month of November.

Warnings: smut, pwp, choking kink, cream pies, oh boy this got me hot and bothered, unprotected sex, pent up sexual frustration

Taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff (message me to be in taglist!)

K’s 500: this or that: masterlist

You thought it was so fucking ridiculous when San stops cuddling and being physically intimate with you because why?

He made a bet with his members on winning No Nut November.

It is so ridiculous, especially when you see his eyes fucking sparkling when he tells you that Mingi was the first one to lose. Then Wooyoung a couple days later.

But as the weeks sink in, so does his sexual frustration. It had been 15 fucking days since he held on, but he was genuinely about to snap, especially when you are around him. Especially. You’re getting annoyed with his little shenanigans and his stupid fucking bet because fuck, you needed to be dicked down. But obviously, compared to San, you knew clear as day, who had the better self control. But you wanted to see how much longer he could take—especially in the state he’s in right now, and especially when you decide to be suggestive.

The night started off as normal—San coming back from practice, and you walking past him dressed only in a silk tank and shorts that pretty much could come off as panties from how fucking short they are. You’re drying your hair with a towel as you greet your partner like any other day you do, before giving him a peck on his lips, and San makes the mistake of letting his eyes lower to your chest, staring at the way your cleavage dips down and your nipples perking out from the thin fabric.

He stares after you as you make your way to the bed, dropping yourself comfortably as the pants hike up even higher. San swallows hard and he tells himself not to think too much into it, but also, since when did you own that set of lounge wear?

He showers and leaves the bathroom half naked before only fitting on his sweats as he joins you in the bed, his eyes still locked onto how loose the top looks on you.

“How was your practice?” You ask, as you look up from your phone to meet his gaze.

He blinks for a spilt second and shrugs. “It was okay, I guess. I’m feeling more confident.”

Your lips curl into a smile as you put your phone down and wrap your arms around his biceps. “That’s great, babe. I know you’re always doing your best,” you hum as you lean in, pressing your body weight onto his arm. San’s brain is starting to go haywire when he feels your almost bare tits just pressing onto him. He swiftly glances at the way your tits push against each other when you’re on his arm and it takes all of his strength to hold back and not to pin you down (especially since he hasn’t had an orgasm for two weeks now).

“I had such a rough day, you know. Boss was such a bitch…” you start after pulling away. San tries to listen intently, like the good boyfriend that he is, as you blabber about your work, but he can’t stop fucking staring at the way the strap of your top hangs off your shoulder, and more of your chest is exposed as you’re being animated about your day, your hands moving dramatically as your words flow in and out of his ears because he’s too busy watching your tits bounce as your nipples are pressing against the uselessly thin fabric.

You pout when you realise he isn’t listening and you climb onto his lap to get his attention, knowing damn well that he’s slowly getting hard.

“You’re not listening, babe”, you whine, your hands cupping his cheeks. San forces a laugh. No doubt you’re being so adorable right now but San is definitely beginning to lose his rationale when he realises that you’re not wearing any underwear. He cups his larger hands over yours and kisses your palm, stroking your hands gently.

“Apologies, Angel. Just had a tiring day at practice”, he replies as he closes the distance between the both of you. You giggle, before pressing your lips onto his, and he immediately caves in. But the moment he wants to part your lips open, you pull back, leaving him confused and, pretty damn hard. You go back to using your phone, completely disregarding him. His hand slips around your waist, pulling you to face him. You only smile in response before turning away, and San basks in the way the pants you wear hugs the curvature of your ass a little too well.

“Could you give me a massage, babe? My back is sore from being stuck in the office all day”, you ask, looking over your shoulder. San easily complies, confident that’ll get his mind out of the gutter.

Oh how wrong he was. Every time his presses against a sore spot, he has to bite his cheek when you groan and moan. He fucking swears that you’re doing it on purpose. It doesn’t help when you request him to go down your sides, and it takes all of his self control to just not grab your tits.

His final strings of self control and rational completely snaps when you turn around and your top had slid down so much that your nipples were pretty much just peeking out from the fabric.

You eye him up and down, watching the way he’s just fucking you with his eyes. You surprise your laughter.

“Why not just fuck me if you’re just gonna keep staring like that?”

You sit up, reaching to kiss his jaw.

“Come on, you know you want to, Sannie.”

He stares up at you as you slowly sink down on his cock, taking him inch by inch, and his hands squeeze against your hips.

“fuck, you’re so fuckin tight”, San groans, feeling his cock push through wall of muscles which are squeezing around him relentlessly. He fucking swears that he’s gonna just cum just being inside you but no, not yet. It would be such a fucking waste if he did, especially when he hasn’t had the chance to fuck you so good for two weeks.

“And why’s that? Oh right, because you wouldn’t fuck me”, you hiss as you feel his fat cock completely stretch you out. He’s filling you up so good and you’re already seeing stars. You tilt your head back, relishing the feeling of being filled to brim after so long. His cock twitches in you and you sigh in bliss.

San can’t come up with an answer, mostly because you were right and partially because he was deep inside you and his mind is doused in frenzy.

You lift your hips and drop, and your fingernails leave scratches on his chest as you hear hisses leave San. The moment you begin bouncing on his cock is when he really starts losing his fucking mind—whenever your cunt swallows him up, his mind goes completely blank, only dopamine filling every crevice of his brain as he watches the way your tits bounce when you’re riding him.

“Sannie, you feel so good. So big”, you whimper as he meets your thrusts with push of his hips, completely knocking your breath away.

“Fuck!” San curses, somehow managing to find the strength to overpower you, and towering over you, letting you fall onto the bed, now resting on your back, all with his cock still in you, as he locks both of your wrists above you, using his legs to leverage himself while he fucks you into the bed. He steadies himself well enough that his free hand is around your neck, and he contracts his fingers, cutting off the oxygen as he pounds into you mercilessly. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as the only thing you’re feeling is his cock driving in and out of you. Broken moans are leaving your lips and San is staring down at you, swelling with pride when you’re withering so fucking good from the pleasure that you’re just taking whatever he’s giving you. Fuck the bet. He wants to make sure you’re so full that you’d be leaking for days on end when he’s done.

“Just like that baby, keep taking my cock like the good girl you are”, he coos, making sure every stroke he gives your cunt is so deep that you feel his balls pressing against your ass. Tears streak down your face and you’re blabbering incoherence whenever he releases his grip on your neck. He begins rutting into you, and he’s completely lost in bliss—desperate to chase his high.

The fucked out expression San wears makes you more aroused and you feel your stomach tighten, and when San hits the pretty spot in your tight little pussy, your cunt convulses, and before you could even process it, your orgasm hits you so fucking hard and you completely go still, eyes rolled back, seeing the fucking galaxy, as you cream all over his cock while riding out your orgasm.

“Oh my fucking god, babe. Are you fucking kidding me? You’re gonna send me to the heavens at this rate,” he grits when he cock gets squeezed even more.

His hand still around your neck, he pulls you back to face his face, making sure he milks your orgasm clean. He curses another “fuck”before he sees white spots, his turn to still into you pressing his body weight onto you, tightening his grip around your neck, watching you sob from the overstimulation as he lets ropes of cum just spurt into your abused cunt.

“Fuck me, babe. Look at how much cum is for you”, he moans, jutting his hips periodically, emptying himself into you, his cum filling you up so much that it begins leaking out of your hole even when he’s still in you.

“So good. San, I’m so full”, you sob, holding your legs up, making sure to hold as much of his cum as you could in your small cunt. He releases his grip on your neck and the oxygen burns in your lungs. You catch your breath, your body spasming slightly as San pulls out from you slowly, and his cum leaks out to your inner thigh.

“Damn. I can’t believe I’m the third to go down”, San sighs once his high teeters off.

“Please, you never stood a chance”, you scoff. San turns to face you, his eyes narrowing, before he has you under him again, his hands pinning you down as you feel his thighs push your legs open once more.

He dons a smirk before he presses his bare, hard and cum-covered cock onto your wet entrance. You gasp as your gaze flutters up to meet his.

“I don’t think you’ll stand a chance for the next few rounds I’m gonna give you, baby. You’re asking for it.”

#k’s500thisorthat🌶️#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez smut #smut #ateez fic #kpop smut #choi san smut #Choi san #san ateez #ateez san

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lokis-army-77 · 7 months

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Pretty Girl and her Hoodie Guy

Modern!Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 2.4k

It was supposed to be a sunny day until it wasn't, but that's okay because maybe love is right around the corner... or the bus stop.

Warning: E for everyone!! This is just really cute and if you don't read it I'll be very mad at yall >:(.

The first part of this is based on some pictures I saw on tiktok but I totally forgot to save it so I could give credit for the idea that it gave me.

Masterlist

It has rained almost every day in Chicago for nearly a week. So, the one day the weather forecast called for bright sunny skies and nearly eighty-degree weather, you decided to leave your umbrella in your apartment along with your umbrella.

The bus ride to campus was dry as could be, the weather was perfect and the slight breeze tickled as it made your skirt flutter around your thighs. The walk to class after getting off the bus was also crystal clear, not a single cloud in sight and the sun beat down brightly, you were thankful for the shade of the trees.

Three hours later, as you exit the English building, you notice it has gotten darker, clouds have begun to roll in. You sigh as you begin walking to the bus stop, hopeful that the weatherman was still correct about having no rain.

You and the meteorologist were both proven wrong when, halfway to the bus, the bottom fell out. Big, heavy droplets of rain started pouring down out of nowhere, almost instantly soaking you to the bone.

You begin to run as fast as your bag full of books and laptop will allow. You can only pray that the rain hasn't seeped through your backpack and ruined your things.

The bus stop is only a couple more feet away and when you make it under the awning you have a breath and set your backpack down on the bench. Today was such a bad day to wear a white shirt. The water had made it nearly see-through. Your white bra practically shining through the thin cotton fabric like a spotlight was on it.

As you try to squeeze the water out of your clothes you hear a deep cough, like someone clearing their throat. You look up. To your left is a guy, he's tall with shaggy hair and bangs almost covering his eyes. He's wearing a black hoodie and black jeans even though it had been almost eighty-three degrees mere hours ago. Your eyes catch on the glint of piercings in his ears before they wander to the peak of a tattoo showing just above the collar of his hoodie.

He looks at you with impossibly big, brown eyes, something you'd imagine only a puppy or a newborn baby to have.

"Here." He says before tugging the hoodie off. The way he reaches up and grabs the back of the garment to take it off has the shirt under it riding up. You can see an expanse of ivory skin covered in charcoal-black lines, tattoos. They cover almost every inch of skin and you suspect they go farther down, past the waistband of his jeans.

He shakes the hoodie out in front of you and you hesitate to grab it so he forces it into your shivering hands. The rain and the sudden drop in temperature are making you freeze.

"Put that on. It'll keep you warm and away from prying eyes." His smile is big and bright as he watches you put his clothes on.

It's big on you, more than big, enormous. What was a perfect fit on him, swallowed you whole. The hem came down almost to the back of your knees and the sleeves might as well have been a mile long.

"Thank you," you say softly with an even softer smile back at him.

"No worries." He then points at your hand and motions for you to reach it out to him. So, you do, without hesitation.

He grasps your hand in his and with the other, rolls up the sleeve. He then produces a pen from seemingly thin air and scribbles something down.

When he lets go of your arm, you hold it up. 10 scratchy numbers are etched over your forearm as well as a name. Eddie.

You go to ask him why he's given you his number when he beats you to it.

"Call me. I'll be needing that back." He grins, holding his fingers like a phone to his ear. You can't help the shy giggle that leaves you.

The guy, Eddie as you have just learned, then sprints through the rain and into the bus you hadn't even realized had stopped moments before.

He leaves you speechless and giddy. Butterflies are fluttering around in your stomach, making you dizzy. You have to sit down or else you think you might faint.

Never have you had an interaction like this. Something so simple and sweet. He drew you in front the first second you laid eyes on him.

It only takes you a few minutes to remember to come back to reality. Quickly you put his number in your phone under "hoodie guy (Eddie)"

....

It's a few days later when you finally work up the courage to call hoodie guy. It’s maybe three in the afternoon and as the other line rings and rings your nerves begin to eat at you as you wonder if he did really want you to call him, maybe a text would have been better.

Your thoughts are cut short when a rather chipper voice answers. “Y’ello?”

“Hi, is this Eddie?” You swear your anxiousness can be heard in your voice.

“Yeah… and who is this?” He questions.

“Oh, um. This is the girl you gave your hoodie to the other day, remember?”

“I remember you.” You could almost hear the smile stretching across his face. “Was beginning to think you wouldn’t call.”

You had it bad. Really bad. Just speaking to him for these few seconds had your heart racing. “Sorry about that. I wanted to wash it before I called.” You give him your name then, shyly introducing yourself.

He chuckles in response, “Pretty name for a very pretty girl.”

You’re glad this is a phone call, otherwise, Eddie would see how badly you are blushing. Your face is white hot and beet red, a dead giveaway to how this stranger has totally smitten you with two limited interactions.

You don’t realize you have been quiet this whole time until Eddie speaks up once more. “Hello? You there pretty girl?"

"Y-yeah," you stutter. "I'm here." You blush impossibly harder.

"Would you like to meet me at the coffee shop by the bus stop we met at? It'll be my treat." There's a hopefulness to his question.

You nod only to realize he obviously can't see you. "Yes," you answer. "I'd love to."

"Great! Can you be there in thirty?"

"Sure. I'll head that way now."

Excitedly you begin to get ready, putting way too much effort into your outfit, but hey it's not wrong to want to look good for the guy you find insanely attractive.

…

Thirty minutes later you are walking into the coffee shop dressed up in a cute, green corduroy pinafore dress, perfect for the upcoming fall weather, and a giant hoodie in your grasp.

You don't notice the large guy coming up to your side until he's poking a finger into your shoulder to grab your attention.

You jump at the sudden poke and turn to face the culprit.

"Oh'" you say surprised. "Hi."

"Hi." He smiles back. "I'm sitting over there if you want to take a seat. What do you want to drink?"

You're quick to shake your head. "You really don't have to do that. I can pay for my part." You start fumbling for your card in the back of your phone case.

He places a hand over yours. "I insist. What would you like?”

It doesn’t take much for you to give in and tell him your go-to order. After he repeats it back to you, you head to the table by the window Eddie had pointed to. His denim jacket was hung over the back of the chair, leaving you the booth seat to settle into.

The cafe is relatively empty, save for the two baristas behind the counter and the older man seated at the corner table reading a book, so it doesn’t take long for Eddie to come back with two coffees carefully balanced in one large hand and a plate with a warm croissant.

You try to help him but he tuts you away, quickly saying, “I got it, I got it.” He sets the plate down first before placing your glass in front of you and his before him. Then, he sits.

You both take slow sips from your coffee and as he looks intently at you with those eyes, you try and avoid them.

“This is for you.” He pushes the bread in your direction with the knuckle of his forefinger.

“I- thank you.” A fierce blush starts to creep up your neck and you busy yourself by drinking some more.

You know that Eddie can tell you’re nervous. Who wouldn’t be able to tell with your seldom eye contact and soft, stuttering words? He starts the conversation off slow, easing you into a more comfortable state, you’re grateful for it.

Questions like “How’s your day going” to his only little version of twenty questions finally get you to break out of your shell. He makes you laugh, a lot, to the point your stomach hurts and your muscles ache.

Conversation flows easily after the initial bump in the road. You’ve talked about college and life after; he’s studying in the music department with plans to eventually become a professional musician. He tells you about his dreams and ambitions and you can’t help but feel inspired. You tell him about the book you would love to write one day and he listens intently. He even asks questions and refers to things you stated previously in the conversation. Never have you had such a connection with anyone, not even your closest friends.

Eddie is so charming and witty that it barely even registers when both of your hands meet in the middle of the table. His larger fingers play with your smaller ones and you converse in your own little world.

You’re only broken from your state of enchantment with the other when a cafe worker approaches you.

“I’m sorry guys but we close at four on Sundays and it’s ten till.” The worker gives you a strained smile, the underlying message, “Please leave.”

You gasp in shock. “How have we been here for three hours?”

Eddie looked at you, just as surprised. “Well, time does fly when you’re having fun, pretty girl.”

You shake your head. The complement turned pet name making you blush every time he said it but not as hard as when your name rolled off his tongue.

“Come on,” he says, standing to his feet. “I’ll take you home.” He reaches for your hand and pulls you up after you quickly gather up your purse and his hoodie.

As you walk out, you both apologize profusely to the two workers for staying right until closing.

“How are you gonna take me home?” You ask. “You took the bus the day we met.” You really didn’t want him spending an extra bus fare just to escort you home.

He gives you a lopsided grin. “I took the bus 'cause I had an inkling not to listen to the weather. This is my usual ride.” Eddie arcs his hand out in front of you both, gesturing to the sleek black motorcycle resting by the curb.

“Woah. That is actually really cool.” You gush. You had always wondered what it would be like to ride on a motorcycle.

Eddie reaches out and grabs the helmet strapped to the seat and hands it to you. “Wear this.”

“What about you?”

“You’re precious cargo, far more important than me.” He answers before helping place it over your head and buckle it under your chin. Then he takes his hoody from your arms and ties it around your waist. “That should cover you up enough.” He gestures to your dress. You hadn't even thought about that detail and his mindfulness had you swooning.

He gives you a small but thorough lesson on what you do as a passenger before getting on and then helping you on after.

He drives slowly, taking less busy streets to the address you gave him, and the whole time you cling to him. Your heart beats wildly in your chest at the feeling of freedom as the wind whips around you. Every so often, Eddie will reach for your hand at his waist, or when you are stopped at a red light he automatically reaches back to cup your legs, fingers dragging up the back of your calves.

You’re sad when the ride comes to a stop outside your apartment building. You are slow you follow him off the bike and even slower to let him remove the helmet. This amazing time was coming to an end and you desperately didn’t want it to.

You can feel his calloused fingers tickle your chin as he undoes the strap. He’s careful to pull the protective gear off, fixing the strands of hair that fall out of place when he’s done. You cherish the warmth coming from his palm and it really feels like he’s about to kiss you. And you wouldn’t mind if he did. No matter if you only just met him or if this seemed to be moving fast, you wanted to know what those plump lips felt like on your own.

He leans in and your breath hitches in your lungs, your eyes close as you prepare with the one thing you need at this moment. Only, Eddie doesn’t kiss your lips, instead, he places a gentle peck on your cheek. You deflate, sad his target was somewhere else.

“Eddie?” You ask softly.

“Yeah?” He mutters your name, eyes staring into yours.

“I had a great time.”

“Me too, pretty girl.”

“Thank you for bringing me home.”

“You’re welcome.” He backs away from you and you frown just a bit. “You should get inside.”

“I should… I’ll text you?”

“Nothing I’d want more.” He slides his leg back over onto his bike and you turn to walk away.

“By Eddie.” You only get a few feet before you pause. “Oh, wait.” You untie his hoodie from your waist and rush back to Eddie’s side. “Here.”

He shakes his head. “You keep it. Looks better on you than it ever will on me. Plus, it’ll give me a reason to come see you again.”

You become shy again and the mention of seeing him again, hopeful that this wasn’t just a one-time thing to get his clothes back and that he will answer when you text or call him.

“Bye, pretty girl.” He grins and you watch him put his helmet on but he doesn’t leave just yet. No, he only leaves after he sees you enter your building and you waive to him from beyond the glass door.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #meet cute #eddie munson fluff #joseph quinn fluff #modern eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things x reader

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bomberqueen17 · 15 days

Text

don't know where else to put it

I was going to do a big wrap-up of Everything I Learned From The Must Farm Site Report PDFs but then life got super busy. So I only have the things I turned over and over in my mind, just now, and I want to go back and reread but now's not the time, I'll have to do another pass through at a later date.

But the one tiny vivid little factoid I've got in my mind that I just have to write down-- that necklace, with the big amber bead? Some of the glass beads were shattered from the heat but the amber bead was only charred a little on one side. So obviously some of the necklace was closer to the fire than the rest. I had initially connected that it was found near where there was probably a door, and I vaguely imagined someone dropping it as they fled. But now I'm convinced that's not it at all.

It was hanging up. It was hanging on a peg or a hook or a twig or something, right near the door, maybe even on display, and the big heavy amber bead was hanging at the bottom, and the glass beads were hanging at the top, and the fire at that point spread down from the roof and it burned through the string, and the glass beads shattered and the necklace fell down and when the floor collapsed it wound up in the mud.

The other thing I keep thinking is that the fire has to have started while no one was home. And modern people don't think about this, but in a premodern society where you've got a group of people living in a house, where you don't have appliances you can turn on and off, where starting a fire takes serious effort and getting it to a state where you can cook on it takes hours, where the food served at daily meals has to be the full-time job of several people because it's so labor-intensive--

there's never going to be a time where everyone is out of the village. There's going to be a sickly or elderly person who can't really get out of bed or move far, or a new mother who's just given birth and can't travel, and there'll be someone home to tend to whoever that is, and while they're home they're tending the fire and getting dinner started. There's just always someone there. I could see maybe one house being unoccupied for a brief time, but a village, that probably had at least ten houses if not more, and each house had ten people in it? Someone would be home. And those who weren't home wouldn't be far. We know the wheat etc. that the village was eating was grown on dry land, and the flax they were processing into fiber, but it could not have been far away. And the Fenlands are flat. You'd see smoke. Before the first house was even engulfed someone would have noticed the smoke and they'd be hurrying home.

But nobody tried to fight the fire. Nobody spread it, but nobody fought it either. Nobody pulled any timbers out to save them. Nobody threw water on anything.

Nobody was there. The houses were empty. Nobody fled the fire, because they weren't there to see it start, or they would have been able to stop it.

They hadn't been evacuated in any organized way, or surely the bead necklace would have been taken. Even if they were in a hurry, at least the pot full of cooked food would have been taken, or emptied into something more portable to bring along! There was so much prepared food lying around. And the thread bobbins-- bobbins and bobbins of painstakingly-spliced flax they'd grown and rippled and scutched, some of it then painstakingly plied, hours and hours of several people's labor, and it was on little bobbins, you could sweep that into a basket along with your bulkier household goods and barely take up any space at all and save hundreds, maybe thousands of hours of labor later when you needed to weave some new fabric. Thread like that was precious, and it's portable, and I can't believe they'd choose to leave so much of it behind if they had any chance to choose what they brought with them.

As I'd said, it's beyond possibility that everyone had gone out to do some job-- there would be people left behind in the houses for that. Maybe everyone had gone out for some religious observation, maybe. Maybe something was important enough to even haul out the oldsters and the infants, and to put off dinner until late. Maybe. it's possible. But someone (probably in Structure 1) just didn't bank the fire correctly, and it got away and got into the roof beams. A properly-banked fire wouldn't do that, and surely these people, managing cooking fires for their entire lives, would know how to do it. But even then I can't imagine them going that far, and again, they'd see the smoke and hurry home. Even if it was a religious rite they'd still hurry home from it, there's no way they wouldn't have come back.

So it seems to me that they had to have been forced out. No notice, no chance to pack, everything left where it was, last night's supper still in the pot, tonight's bread still rising on the trays, the lambs in their pens and the dog tied up in House 5.

I can't imagine what forced them out. It wouldn't be weather. It could be enemies. There were no weapons found in the houses, but that might mean they'd taken them with them-- except the spears, perhaps they were only hunting spears but you'd think still if everyone ran out to fight they would take them too, the spears and the axes; if it was a situation where they had to last-ditch defend themselves the non-warriors would certainly arm themselves with the wood axes and the hunting spears. But they didn't.

So my conclusion is that they all were forced to leave in a hurry, without banking the fires, without putting anything away, and they were prevented from returning. The cause could be human enemies-- perhaps the warriors of the settlement had gone out to fight and been defeated, and the victors came here and the survivors knew they could not fight and so came out unresisting to meet their fates.

The cause could be something religious or spiritual-- something they believed in made them leave and prevented them from returning. It would have to be incredibly compelling, however, because leaving without their food or their cooking pots or their domestic goods (the little bobbins of thread!!!!! you could easily carry those!!) would make it very hard for them to make their way in the world.

The cause could be-- I really don't know what else. Disease would maybe make them abandon a settlement, maybe leave no trace if they buried their dead on land, but they would pack first. Most things, they would pack first, they wouldn't leave cooked food sitting out, they'd bring the lambs and dog with them. Any orderly evacuation, they'd have brought the lambs and dog with them. They have to have left in a hurry without a chance to prepare. And there was no attempt at salvage afterward, they didn't come back to look for anything they'd left. The ruins of the burned buildings would have stood visible for decades, the ends of roof timbers above the water, much of structure 4 (possibly the gate house entrance) above the water, the palisade probably unburnt for much of its length. It would have been easy to find. There are only a couple of disarranged timbers in Structure 3 to suggest anyone ever poked through the wreckage at all, and that's not much to go on. Certainly nobody dug around in the mud, which would have been quite shallow at some times of year.

And while it's possible the evidence of what happened existed once, somewhere in the long-vanished sections of the village-- perhaps the fire started at that end, perhaps they tried to fight it there, perhaps they tried salvage over there and discovered the fire had burned too hot to make it worthwhile, perhaps the bodies of the villagers were all dumped into the channel over there after whatever battle there was-- perhaps there was all kinds of stuff. But I just think whatever it was left no trace. So many of the possibilities would now be invisible, three thousand years later.

All we have is the facts: They left in a hurry, leaving their lambs in their pens, their food on the table, the dog tied up in the house, the cooking fires not banked.

And whatever made them leave, they never came back.

#must farm #bronze age #british history #archaeology #unknowables

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jasonsmirrorball · 7 months

Text

OCTOBER 14: IN DREAMS I FIND YOU JASON TODD

kinktober prompt: somnophilia | kinktober masterlist

synopsis. jason returns home from patrol. what's a man to do when you're lying there so pretty? you'll let him make you feel good, won't you, baby?

cw: f!reader, slight dubcon, brief dry humping, cunnilingus, praise minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact

Jason enters the apartment a little after three in the morning. You’ve left the light above the stove on for him, and where the sight would usually bring some comfort, there’s an itch under his skin that takes precedence. His gear is heavier tonight, clicking as he storms through the living space.

He finds you in the bedroom. The sight of you curled up eases some of the burn in his chest but it’s soon stoked once more, green haze clouding the corners of his vision as his gaze traces your sleeping form.

The lavender cotton of your sleep shorts flutters in the moonlight–how many times has he told you to close that damned window when you go to bed? In the morning, he’ll have to remind you about it. Right now. Jason is more concerned with the expanse of skin your attire bares to his eyes, drinking in the sight of your legs, the slouch of your tank top across your shoulders, material riding up as you twist yourself around his pillow. Even from the doorway, he can see the sliver of your stomach, the press of your nipples against your top.

You let out a murmur in your sleep and his breath catches, familiarity leaving him tuned in to your every noise and movement. His cock throbs beneath his clothes. He’s dying for it. He wants nothing more than to cross the room in two short strides and drop to his knees, to pull those damn shorts down and press his nose between your legs and–

He has more self control than that. Slowly, methodically, he removes his gear, utility belt set on the floor of the wardrobe where he’ll more than likely forget about it until he wakes the next afternoon and stubs his toe. The blood on the hem of his pants is a problem for later, too–you’ve rolled over onto your stomach and his jaw tightens at the sight.

So pretty, and splayed out as if in offering for him. He’d be a fool not to appreciate you.

It’s been a long night. Jason has spent the most of it in and out of buildings he has no business being near, casing out warehouses and drilling understanding into the denizens of Gotham’s back alleys that when he gave an order, they were to follow it to the letter. He has little taste for the stupidity of the crime lords, of the drug lords who strive to test his patience. He bears it better, usually, but tonight his self control runs thin, and all the violence has left him wanting to whet his appetite with something else.

He stalks forward, feet heavy against the hardwood, pressing a knee into the mattress and leaning over until he’s got you caged beneath him, nose pressed to your neck. He can smell the lingering scent of your shampoo, and when his tongue darts forward from between his lips, he can taste the barest hints of salt on your skin. Summer leaves you warm, always throwing the covers aside when you get too hot, and Jason finds himself grateful for it when his hands paw at the flimsy fabric of your sleeping clothes–thin, stretchy material that leaves little to the imagination.

He should feel lecherous, slipping a hand beneath your stomach to grope at the softness of your breasts, dragging his mouth along the curve of your shoulder and letting his teeth graze your skin. But he can’t find it in himself, not when you press back against him so sweetly, seeking him out even in your dreams. When you shiver, he lets out a hoarse laugh.

“Hi, sweet girl,” he whispers into your skin. “‘M home. Missed you so bad, sweetheart, can you feel it?”

He pushes his hips against your ass, rocking ever so slightly into you and groaning when you shift, letting out a sleepy sigh.

“Thought of you all night,” he mumbles. “Wish I could’ve just stayed with you–I kept thinkin’ about this afternoon, wanted to tell everyone t’go home so I could get back to my girl…make you scream so loud, baby.”

He thinks of you, ribboned in afternoon sun, head thrown back. The image of you had refused to leave his mind, sun warmed and bare and all fucking his. Your pretty little moans ringing in his ears as he’d gritted orders through his teeth. He’d felt the bite of of your nails in his back with every step he took, clothes scraping against the marks you’d left on him.

A puff of air escapes your lips and you sink further into the mattress. Jason leaves a litter of kisses across your shoulder and neck, shuffling until he’s kneeled between your legs, nosing at your thighs.

“Shit, baby,” he rasps, a whimper caught in his throat. “Promise I’ll be good, ‘m gonna make you feel so good, doll–need you so fuckin’ bad…”

He maneuvers you onto your back, shorts coming off in a single tug before he’s pressing his mouth to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, just a few inches south of where he intends to be. He laves at the skin, no care for form tonight, drunk on the scent of you through the cotton panties you’ve worn to bed tonight.

You stir, and Jason grins into your thigh when he sees your lashes beginning to flutter, lips drawing into a confused pout when he trails a finger over the seam of your panties, ghosting over where your heat seeps through.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he chuckles, nosing at the crease of your thigh. His other hand grips your thigh, pulling it up and over his shoulder. “Gonna let me make you feel good?”

“Jason…” you whisper, voice cracking with sleep. He can see your eyes are still clouded over, and you whimper when he bites–only gently, he’d never want to hurt you.

(Not unless you asked him to, but that’s by the by)

“My pretty baby,” he murmurs huskily, licking the spot better, tongue flicking over the indentation of his teeth. The sight of it only stokes the growing need under his skin, and he’s flicking his eyes up to you. “Need to taste you so bad, angel.”

Your fingers sink into his hair and he grins, not bothering with removing your panties, simply tugging them to the side before pressing the flat of his tongue against your pussy. He revels in the lurch of your back, pain sparking at his scalp where your grip on his hair tightens but it only shoots straight to his cock and he finds himself bucking against the mattress in an effort to relieve the strain.

“Baby, I–” you gasp, and he groans, gripping your thigh tighter. He feels like a fucking animal, slobbering all over you with no method or ceremony, tongue tracing patterns around your clit as you cry out.

He feasts himself on you, spit mixing with your slick as you writhe under his tongue, sleepy moans tumbling from your lips as you roll your hips upward. He’s in no better shape, steadily approaching his high from how pent up he’s been all evening, every single sound you make shooting straight to his cock. But he’s determined to please you first, lips closing around your clit and meeting your half lidded eyes as he sucks hard.

You fall apart in seconds, voice pitching and back arching over him. He thinks it’s glorious to behold. Your face crumples and twists, and he thinks it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. He follows not long after, spilling into his briefs as he tongue fucks you through your orgasm.

In the aftermath, you cradle his head in your palms and he follows your touch, rising and becoming distinctly aware of the stickiness in his underwear but you pull him in for a kiss and he files it away for later. He clings to you, slumping against you when you let him go, with his head pressed to your stomach. Your hand finds its way to his hair once more, nails scraping against his scalp in recurring movements that make his eyelids flutter.

this concept has been plaguing me since mid september and all the way through my midterm assignments. i sat down every single day to get work done and i was like...jason...coming home from patrol to love on you...anyway. this isn't as long as the first kinktober fic but that i hope u enjoyed this regardless. may we all have our vigilante anti hero boyfriends return home to us after patrol, eager to please and needy for us!

#banner by shoujo-dreamland #mdni banner by benkeibear #jason todd imagine #jason todd smut #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x reader #ro's kinktober '23 #kinktober 2023 #jasonsmirrorball #jay my heart

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roanniom · 9 months

Note

First date pt2 or voice kink with Eddie????????????

For Your Teddy

Teddy!Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, voice kink, mention of masturbation, slight hand job, rubbing/dry humping

It’s almost unfair how much he’s able to affect you, and with little more than just his voice. It would be annoying even, if it wasn’t such a fucking turn on. And the bastard knows it, too.

Whenever he’s horny and he selfishly wants to get you up to speed quickly, he lays on the charm. Thick.

Eddie finds you in the kitchen, putting away groceries having just gotten back from the store. It’s a very mundane task. There’s nothing sexy about it or the shopping you’d been doing for the last half hour. There’s absolutely no reason for you to be in the mood to fuck him.

It’s the exact opposite of how Eddie’s spent his half hour - slowly working himself up to the thought of you.

It began with the waft of your perfume he’d gotten when you’d walked out the door, leaving him alone and thoughtful. He’d wandered into your shared bedroom and smelled it on the sheets from your close proximity when you’d sprayed from the delicate bottle.

It escalated to Eddie humping corner of the mattress languidly, lazily. He even moved on to jerking off slowly, splayed out on the bed with his head on your pillow. He had no intention of cumming. Not without you. His cum needed to end up either in you or on you. That was his rule.

So when you get home and Eddie finds you in the kitchen, he comes up behind you and buries his face in the side of your neck, breathing deeply.

“Oh fuck,” he mutters.

You freeze.

His voice is low. Gravely. Wrecked.

“Eddie?”

Eddie’s arms encircle your waist, pulling you back against him. His hard length presses into your ass just as he groans against your skin.

“You smell so fucking good, baby. Wanna eat you up.” To illustrate his point he sinks his teeth lightly into the soft juncture of your shoulder and neck. You gasp out at the sensation and lean back against his body. “But might have to do that later. Not sure I can wait to be inside you.”

A shiver runs down your entire spine at the way his words vibrate through your body, from the top of your head to the tips of your curling toes.

Eddie’s lips find your ear. It’s a husky whisper that meets you, floating into your mind on a hot breath and making tingles shoot straight to your clit.

“You’re gonna let me fuck you, huh baby? Right here in the kitchen?”

“Eddie–,” you try again to speak but he chooses that moment to suck on your earlobe. A dirty trick he learned from you.

“Not gonna make wait? Not when you’ve got me so hard, baby. Have a heart, look.”

He pushes you forward to cage your front up against the counter, clearly having no true inclination to make you actually “look.” Instead he grabs your hand and pulls it back and between your bodies, closing it again his thick cock - hot, heavy, and hard beneath the fabric of his boxers.

“Oh god…” you whimper. Eddie chuckles and the raspy sound shoots straight to your already stimulated core.

“Been waiting for you, you know that? Been fucking my fist but it’s not enough. Not when my baby’s so tight and wet and mine for the taking.”

If you weren’t sure you were wet before, you definitely know you’re wet now. You can feel it. Eddie pushes your hand in the waistband of his boxers so your hand can curl around his naked cock.

“Gonna let me fuck you like the good girl you are. Hmmm I know you are, princess.”

With you no longer needing encouragement to start tugging on his cock, one of Eddie’s hands moves up and begins squeezing and groping at your tits. The other moves down to cup the apex of your legs beneath your skirt.

You’re panting now, eyes closed and mouth dropped open. Fully accepting of this turn in your afternoon.

“Yes,” you breathe. Eddie chuckles again and you clench around nothing. He places sucking kisses to your neck.

“So sensitive. Love the way you react to me, sweetheart. So easy for your Teddy, huh?”

“Teddy….” you whimper, absolutely delighted to drop into the space you go any time that nickname for your boyfriend surfaces. You bend over there and then, dropping his cock to instead clutch at the counter and push your hips back against him in invitation.

Eddie’s laugh picks up and you squirm. He lands a loud spank to your ass as he lifts your skirt and pushes it to your waist.

“That’s my good girl. Good fucking girl for your Teddy.”

~*~

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Please let me know what you think in comments or reblogs, thanks for reading!

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #teddy!eddie munson smut #teddy!eddie munson

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holycryptid · 1 month

Text

Tears of Blood

König x AFAB!reader (no pronouns/gendered language).

Explicit content (18+)

Word count: 3.0k

Tags/warnings: unprotected sex, light choking, mentions of murder/blood (look who we’re working with), mentions of ghostsoap (yay!), explicit language, some fluff, dry humping, friends with benefits…? (let me know if anything was missed!)

Summary: König reveals a very compelling detail about himself while you prepare him for tomorrow's deployment—also inspired by this post/ask and bluegiragi’s art <3

Notes: this has been posted on AO3 for over a year and i just straight up forgot to post it here, too…oops

The barracks are eerily quiet after curfew. So quiet, in fact, that a ghost couldn’t even float around without being heard. Sometimes there is one, he’s just not of the conventional sort.

You’ve learned that Soap gladly let’s his room be haunted most nights.

König never says a word about it. If he did, he’d be a hypocrite. Especially now, as he drifts to the door of your room: after curfew.

By now, you know to leave it unlocked for him. You don’t know when it started becoming habit, but it did. A mindless gesture that makes his lips quirk under the hood when he turns the knob and feels the door give in with no resistance.

You’ve grown used to seeing his figure loom in the doorway, but sometimes your brain forgets it’s just him, and your heart instinctually stutters a beat out of fear as you see the shadows from the dim lighting hug around his broad, towering form—just as imposing and threatening even without the gear.

You’ve mentally noted that not everyone that casts their gaze, usually a fearful and watery one, upon him lives to do so again. But you are fortunate. You never let yourself forget what he’s been trained to do—what he does. He doesn’t like to indulge in it much, if at all, and his hesitance to do so makes you think it’s better if you don’t know the complicated details anyway.

KorTac has quite a different reputation than the 141. König helped make sure of that.

You finish folding the rest of your civvies, tucking them away in their small drawer, and toss a look over your shoulder to the man lingering in the doorway. “See any ghosts?” you muse, prompting König to step in and lock the door behind him.

A breathy chuckle fills the room. “Didn’t see anything, but I wish these rooms were soundproof.”

“Oh, no.” You hold a cackle, hand slapped over your mouth as you meet his amused eyes through the rough-edged holes of his hood.

“Well, that’s just Soap for you. Not even Ghost can shut him up, I guess.” You plop onto your bed with a sigh to compose yourself.

You know Soap will indulge you later.

“So, how may I be of service to the king?” You offer a playful smile as he stands at the foot of your bed. The unexpected nickname making him more interested in the flooring.

He brings a finger up to the black hood, hooking it in by his jaw and pulling to reveal a sizeable gash in the fabric. A close call with a knife if you ever saw one. “Needle and thread.”

He unhooks his finger and drags the worn material off of his head, then the plain black balaclava that hides him further under it follows. He drops both onto your clean sheets in front of him, rounding the corner of the bed and joining you.

Dark red hair flops over his forehead and hangs in thick, wavy strands. It hasn’t quite reached his shoulders yet, but it’s long enough to have a mind of its own. It’s a colour you don’t come across too often; maybe comparable to a chestnut, or old leaves in autumn before they disappear under a blanket of snow.

“Jeez, you ever gonna cut this?” You turn to face him and run a hand up the back of his neck, tangling your fingers in the dense locks and lightly scratching his scalp on the way down.

Soft blue eyes glance to you, still outlined in black from earlier. “Probably not. Can’t find the time.” His accent gently rounds out the vowels as he leans into your touch.

“Let me braid it for you, then. To hold it back. I know you deploy again tomorrow.” You tuck a strand behind his ear, following with a fleeting kiss right above his cheekbone. A faint blush creeps over his temples and the barely-there freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks.

“I promise it won’t be the worst thing ever,” you gently plead. “You can mend your hood in peace while I do it?”

You’ve definitely done worse together. But worse always seems to be easier.

“Okay.”

Usually these nights don’t go like this.

3 days ago

“Oh, that’s good—right there. Yeah. Yeah,” you nearly sob. König holds you against him, left arm reaching across your chest and hand comfortably gripping your throat as you try to roll your hips back against him harder.

His other hand is between your thighs—on your clit—which are dangling over his own to keep you spread. You’re trapped there; under his arms and over his legs as he jerks his hips up to meet your disjointed riding on the rickety office chair.

An empty briefing room. Not really smart, but Soap passed on that it was “out of service” until next week, not knowing that you’d end up in there sat on König’s cock later that afternoon.

The fabric of König’s hood rubs uncomfortably against your cheek, making you drop your head back onto his shoulder to escape it.

A breathy moan rushes past his lips as you arch your back. “No, no. You’re staying right here.” He tightens and corrects the grip he has across your chest, sliding his gloved fingers up under your jaw to keep you locked in place.

His cock slides itself in and out of you with little resistance, which would usually be slightly embarrassing if it was anyone else inside you, but the way he’s been massaging your clit with such attentiveness and grinding his hips into yours makes you forget anything you could be worried about.

The only thing you can think of right now is how good this orgasm is going to be.

Your hands snake themselves up his arm that’s pinned to your front to grip his wrist, holding on for dear life as his small thrusts become rougher. “You get much, much wetter when you’re close,” he observes. His index finger holds a steady rhythm on your clit as it works counterclockwise over you. “Fuck, I can hear it…can you?”

A whine bubbles in your throat. The zipper of his cargo pants bites against your ass on every downstroke, and you can feel how wet you’ve made the front of his pants. That’s what he gets for only caring enough to pull his cock out while he ripped your cargos off entirely.

“I—fuck. Yes, I’m close, yes,” you choke out, daring to cast your gaze upon where your bodies are connected.

You’re swollen and slick and you can hear it, too. The quick, sharp slaps of his hips against your ass does little to hide the hungry squelching of your cunt. You’ve probably dripped all down his balls at this point. He’s always happier with a big mess in the end anyway.

“Cum when you’ve had enough, Schatzi,” he chirps in your ear, breathless and lost in the wet, suffocating warmth of you—all his doing, of course. The result of far too many minutes spent with his thick cock gently sliding between your folds and nudging itself over your throbbing clit, just to be annoying, before he moved you both to the chair.

You drag in a heavy breath, focusing on the stretch of his cock deep inside your walls as the chair creaks with every desperate drop onto him.

Schatzi. “W-what does that mean?”

You’ve naturally picked up a few German words and phrases here and there from time spent with him, but this one was new. A term of endearment? A degrading nickname? Either could be possible in this moment. The sound and pronunciation couldn’t be more ambiguous to you.

“König?” It came out as a whisper, quickly silenced by the release of your orgasm throughout your body as he forces you down to the base of his cock.

—

You haven’t brought it up since. Neither has he.

Even now it sits in the back of your mind as you divide his hair down the middle into two parts. You remain on your bed, he sits on the floor between your knees with a needle and black thread in hand that he retrieved from the bedside table (stashed there specifically for him).

He lays the hood over his left arm and begins to stitch it quietly as you wind three generous strands of his hair between your fingers at the front of his scalp, pulling taught at the root. You carefully thread more hair in from the sides to have it lay perfectly against the top of his skull when finished. You’ll do a matching one on the right side.

“Let me know if it hurts at all,” you warn as you begin tugging more hair into place.

“Ha, I’ve faced adversaries far worse than your little hands,” he laughs, adjusting the hood in his hand as he pokes the needle in again.

The long vermillion markings under the eye sockets stare back at you over his shoulder. “Yeah, I don’t doubt that.”

It’s hard to not be curious about all of the parts that make up “König”. The mask is one of them.

“Why the tears?” you ask confidently while you establish the first braid.

“Hm?” He quirks his head to follow your voice, pausing the followthrough with the thread as you give an accidental yank to his hair.

“Your mask…under the eyes. Why tears?” You figured it was either something symbolic or just his personal taste. Everyone’s got a gimmick.

It seems like every aspect of his existence is a test of one’s curiosity, and you may have just failed.

He focuses his attention back on the stitch he was occupied with. “Fear tactic.” Oh.

Short and sweet. Simple and straightforward. It makes sense—

“I make them with the blood of my targets.” Oh.

Your fingers lose their rhythm for a moment, caught off-guard by the admission. Not so much surprised by the fact that he would do something like that, but rather that he confessed such a thing…to you.

“So you do that…presently?” How could you resist following up about that? It’s the perfect snare. This is the most you’ve gotten from him in weeks.

A beat of measured silence, yet it’s not uncomfortable. He likes to think about what to say, how to say it, before speaking his thoughts spontaneously.

“Only if I believe it’s truly deserved,” he explains. His tone doesn’t reveal if he’s displeased with the topic of work. “The blood actually doesn’t hold up against the black on its own, so Horangi suggested using bleach underneath so it will show better. If needed.” He runs a finger over a washed-out tear track. “Less maintenance with the chemical.”

It’s…it’s morbid, obviously, but you’re not sure if you expected anything less from someone in this line of work. And, of course, leave it to Horangi to feed the fantasy. They are nearly inseparable, besides the times that König’s with you.

Sometimes it’s hard to imagine him as murderous or malevolent—König, who has the most gentle, innocent blue eyes that have offered nothing but kindness to you, even in moments of fierce, consuming pleasure. König, who you’ve never seen, or heard, raise his voice at anyone in anger. König, who despises small talk because he can’t stand the awkwardness.

König, who enjoys the vibrant red sunsets on base and thunderstorms. König, who prefers blueberries over strawberries. König, who is obsessed with entomology books.

But there’s still another part of him that can take out entire platoons of enemies and have no more than a rip in his beloved hood afterwards.

The man under the facade of a callsign and reputation is someone who you may never truly meet, no matter how much he reveals. It feels like you’ve only met half of him despite knowing as much as you do about him, and that fact has settled as an ache in your chest.

“I see…I know it’s not really my place to ask about that stuff, but it’s hard to not wonder about you sometimes.” You’ve reached the end of the first braid, leaving the tail to sit at the crown of his head amongst the uneven layers he has going on.

You tie it off with a small black elastic. It’s a little messy considering the awkward length of his hair, but it looks like it’s meant to be there.

“It’s fine. I’m a big boy, I think I can handle it.” He gives a comforting laugh, amused at your timidness.

In every facet, he’s right. You can’t help but nod your head in agreement with a small smile, despite the fact that he can’t see your expression. “Well, I can’t disagree with you there.”

You begin the start of the second, and final, braid, grabbing the three strands at the front and twisting them into place as he speaks again. “I know it was my size that drew you to me in the first place,” he states confidently, shoulders shaking in amusement at the tease.

Your mouth gapes in feigned offence. “Wow, okay. Is that a crime?”

“No, not in my eyes. Look, look,” he brushes past the sarcasm, holding and stretching the now intact hood out in front of him to see the effectiveness of his handiwork. The seam is near invisible in the sea of black fabric (a ratty t-shirt).

It’s definitely better than the last one he did a few weeks ago. “Damn, that’s pretty fucking impressive. I’m almost done, hold on.” You hurry to tie off the hair, gently holding the sides of his head to see how even they came out. “Looks good, from up here at least. Come sit, let me see the front.” You pat one of his shoulders, freeing him from the cage of your legs and scooting further onto your bed.

“Danke. My spine didn’t love that, though,” he says with a theatric exhale.

He folds the hood in his lap, setting it on the bedside table with the needle and roll of thread. He all but tumbles back onto the soft sheets, groaning as he stretches his neck and shoulders out and lays comfortably on his back, long legs hanging over the side of the mattress.

His eyes flutter shut from the homely feeling of being in—or on—your bed. “Mm, I think I’ll stay here tonight.”

You acknowledge his thought with a small hum as you lean over his restful form to quickly assess his hair, dragging your fingertips along each side lightly. The shaggy hair will always suit him. It frames his cheekbones and jaw perfectly.

König opens his eyes at your touch. “So how does it look, doc? Will I survive deployment now?”

Another smile from you with a slight roll of your eyes. “I think it’ll do the job. Now go clean the black off your eyes if you’re staying. I don’t want it all over my pillows again.”

—

Soap saw the braids in König’s hair the next day before they deployed. An accident or purposefully, you’re not sure yet.

And now, two days later, he still won’t shut the fuck up about it.

“Would ye do that for me?” he asks, playfully quirking a thick brow.

“Probably not, no.”

An arm shoots out accusingly at you in disbelief. “That’s my point! I—”

“Wouldn’t be able to anyway with that fucking landing strip you call a mohawk.” You poorly stifle a laugh with a tight-lipped smirk.

“Away n’ bile yer heid, I’m just trying to help!” He rubs a hand over his eyes, trying to stave off his laughter too. It’s hard to be in his presence and not be overcome with a state of lively energy.

You’re in Soap’s—and sometimes Ghost’s—room, for no real reason other than company while König is at a (delayed) briefing.

Soap’s sitting on his—and sometimes Ghost’s—bed hounding you about the complex being that is König just because he can. You move about the room, finding things to tidy and organize to busy your mind.

“Have ye gone to town on each other yet?”

“Dude!?” You rip a pillow from under him and whack his head. Hard. His infectious cackling now muffled through the thick pillow.

“You’re insufferable. How the fuck does Ghost put up with you?” You try to suppress your giggling as you drop the pillow and join him on the bed in defeat.

A mischievous grin lines his lips at the question. “Well, he t—”

“No! No. Nope. I don’t need to know. It was rhetorical.” You hold up a hand to silence him, bringing it to cover his mouth. His day-old scruff pricks your palm as he tries to talk through your hand.

“Whatever you say next better be insightful or profound or else I’m gonna suffocate you with your own pillow.”

Soap, in fact, didn’t have anything insightful or profound to say about the situation.

—

König wanders into your room again that night, and he’s filled with a gluttonous desire to consume you in any way that he can.

It’s the least he can do for you. It’s the most you can do for him.

You rut against his clothed cock, straddling his hips tightly while your hands keep a death-grip on his hair. Once again, you find yourself on your bed with him under you, the clock on the bedside table glaring the angry red 12:56am.

His large hands have found their home on your ass, encouraging your pussy—still covered by your underwear—to rock harder over his length, which is still trapped in his briefs.

He breaks away from your mouth when you give a rather forceful roll over him, a surprised gasp slipping through his now rosy lips. His grip on your ass slides down to your quivering thighs, rubbing over them soothingly as you work.

A harmony of softs whines and rough groans dance around the room as your pliant bodies move together. “This is somehow better than sex,” König mumbles, mostly to himself. “I don’t want to admit it, but I can cum like this if you don’t stop,” he adds with an overwhelmed huff. “Fuck, I will cum like this if you don’t stop,” he moans.

You let him, and he holds you tight as if you were something other than casual.

#konig x reader #könig x reader #könig mw2 #könig smut #call of duty smut #call of duty x reader #call of duty imagine #call of duty fic #könig imagine #konig smut #konig cod #konig imagine #konig x you #konig x reader smut #konig x you smut

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chvnnie · 6 months

Text

Jisung couldn’t wait. His knees bounced, trying to distract himself with the track in front of him. Clicking away with his mouse, letting the unheard music play over and over again in his headphones.

Today was the day. Everything would change after two pm. He tried to busy himself around the house; cleaning the bedroom, doing some laundry. Even went out for a jog. So out of character for him.

But when something this big is happening, he can’t control how…different he acts.

SMUT — MINORS DNI

It’s thirty past two. His phone is dry (it doesn’t help that he checked it not even a minute ago). Jisung is starting to get antsy; why hasn’t he heard anything? Have you heard anything? What is taking so long that you can’t even shoot him a quick text. Fuck, he’d take even a thumbs up emoji right now.

Restart the song. Tweak it. Wait. Wait, and wait, and wait—

Until there’s a tap on his shoulder. The headphones are all but torn from his skull, whipping his chair around quickly to come face to face with you.

Jisung’s reaction makes you giggle, hands lovingly cupping his chubby cheeks. “Hi, did I scare you?”

Eyes like saucers, he shakes his head. “Did you find out?”

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, corners turning up into a soft smile. It’s been hard for the both of you, waiting for this clearance. The restless nights, a heavy pit in your stomach that you can’t extinguish. All of it is either painful or uncomfortable, leaving you lying on your belly as you cry into your pillow. Jisung so gently stroking your back, reassuring you that it’s over soon.

The timer has ticked. Time is up.

“I still might be a little sensitive.” You say softly, pushing strands of hair that had fallen out of his ponytail back. “But—“

Jisung has spent all day wasting time. Trying to get the clock to move a little fucking faster. He can’t take anymore waiting. Hands on your hips, he tugs you into his lap, the chair leaning back with your combined weight. Your lips clash, a quick but affectionate motion of tongue and teeth making you both groan into each other. The kisses of relief, of joy. Of knowing that finally, finally the two of you can love each other in ways you only know how.

“Where is she?” Jisung breaks the kiss long enough to ask, though his lips never leave your body. They pepper gently across your jawline, body trembling in his hold. “Do I need to call my mom?”

You giggle. “I already dropped her off with Minho. You’re not the only one who needs this, Sung.”

Four months. Four months and some change since he last touched you, felt you. Back then she wasn’t here yet, your belly warm under his hands as he gently rocked into you. There were so many tears that night, from you and him. Kisses that neither of you could get enough of, enjoying your last moments before you wouldn’t get a chance like this for a while.

While is up.

His grin is contagious, head rolling back against his chair as he chuckles happily. Fuck, he’s so excited. He can’t explain how giddy this makes him — it’s like the first time all over again, but better.

So much fucking better.

“He’ll keep her all night?”

You raise a brow, chuckling as you lean down. It’s your turn to pepper his face with kisses. “Or until we go pick her up. She’s only next door. Why? Did you plan for this to go all night?”

“Maybe. Is that a problem?”

“Hm, no.” Your teeth scrap against his neck, bringing a low moan from him. “But we better get started if that’s the case.”

Seconds. Maybe five. That’s how long it takes before you’re pinned to the ground, a fit of giggles as your partner buries his face in your neck. He’s scrunching up your dress, hands exploring your perfect body. Stretch marks and all — you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

Jisung is so lucky to love you.

Fingers hook around the waistband of your panties right as he looks up at you. Hair fanned around you, bright eyes and a lazy smile. God, he’s crazy about you.

“I’ll take my time later.” He promises, moving the fabric slowly down your thighs. “But right now I just need to feel you.”

You cup his face again, fingers creeping back to release his shaggy hair. It’s frames his face perfectly; chubby cheeks and galaxies in his eyes. The most wonderful person, partner, father. And he’s all yours.

“And I you, my love.”

Jisung smiles before he kisses you, quickly removing your clothes and pushing down his sweats. He grabs the base of his cock, pushing it through your folds slowly to collect your slick. Fuck, you’re so warm, so—

You’re wincing in the kiss when he’s near your entrance, fingers clutching onto your hair.

“Is this alright?” He breaks from your lips to whisper.

You nod quickly, taking a deep breath. “Just be gentle.”

“Of course, petal.” Kisses on the corners of your lips, nose nuzzling against your cheeks. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

A kiss to his cheek is your response. An encouragement to go ahead. Why take it any slower?

Eyes locked, Jisung aligns his cock with your center once more. When you smile softly, that’s when he begins to push in. It’s a slow movement, careful to not cause too much damage as he stretches you out again. But also to take in this feeling, remember how much he fucking loves it. How close to you it makes him feel, how comforting it is to be inside you.

“You feel so nice.” He whispers, smiling down at you. “Is this okay?”

You return the smile. “You can go faster if you’d like.”

Fuck, he’d love to. His hips quicken just slightly, not stopping until he literally has no choice but to. Your jaw drops lazily, pretty moans spilling from your lips. Walls fluttering around him.

Your body is like home. God, how he’s longed for you.

“Fuck.” You whimper, eyes fluttering shut. “Sung, so good—“

“I know.” He says breathlessly, hands flexing around your hips. There are tears stinging his eyes — in all the ways he knows to love you, this is one of the most raw. The most beautiful. The most powerful. It’s earth shattering to be here again, his either chest caving in. It’s the best feeling in the world, one that brings tears to his eyes. “You’re divine.”

He needs a moment. To savor this, to enjoy the feeling of being so deeply connected to you. This. This is love in its purest form.

How could he waste this time?

Tears roll down his cheeks, dropping off his chin on your face. The feeling has your eyes opening, brows narrowing in concern as you quickly wipe his tears away. “Jisung—“

“I’m alright.” He reassures you quickly. “I just—fuck, I just adore you.”

For you, he’d steal the stars.

“I love you.” You whisper, lip trembling as your own tears start to form. “Fuck, you’re my everything, Jisung.”

It’s time to move. His cock is begging him, needing to feel the friction. To feel more of you. Slowly, he pulls out, but not too far. He wants this fragment of time to last.

“And you mine, my love.”

There’s no way either of you will last too long. You’re both well aware of it without even speaking it — it’s been too long. Too much time spent away from each other. It’s like the first time all over again, but in such a different reality. The first time as parents, the first time after such a long time.

There’s more than one first. How magical is it that you get to experience it all with Jisung?

He’s starting to sweat, hands on either side of your head as he picks up the speed just a little bit. There’s a fuzzy feeling in his center, the rope tightening as he gets closer and closer to euphoria.

A hand slides under one of his. Fingers flexing around it. When he looks at you, everything just makes sense.

“With me?”

It’s such an easy answer. “Always.”

#skz smut #stray kids smut #han jisung smut #han smut #jisung smut #jisung skz #chvnnie dad!skz #dad!jisung #skz dads chvnnie #dad skz

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ickadori · 4 months

Text

Getou takes pride in his hair.

He has a very meticulous process, and it’s possible he took it a bit too serious, but the results were worth it in his eyes, especially with the way you fawned over the onyx strands, gushing as you so frequently ran your hands through the healthy locks.

“It’s so long and pretty, Suguru!”

“It feels so much softer, did you use something different?”

“Your hair always smells so good, Suguru, I love it.”

Your praises and compliments never fail to make him hide a grin in the crook of his elbow, and he finds himself researching different hair tips more often than not to keep the praises coming. But as serious as he takes the health of his own hair, he takes yours even more seriously.

“Ow, Suguru, that hurts.” You complain as he brings the comb through your hair, and he lowly tsks, reaching to grab a few more pumpfuls of conditioner before lathering it into your wet hair.

“It wouldn’t hurt if you didn’t let it get so tangled,” he resumes the de-tangling process, making sure to start at the ends and work his way up to the roots. “And it wouldn’t get so tangled if you let me comb it every day instead of leaving it in those damn buns.” You dramatically groan when he snags on a kink, and he sets the comb down to instead work it out with his fingers, carefully parting the strands to get it out.

“I thought you liked my buns.”

“I do.” He liked whatever style you decided to put in your hair for the day. A simple bun, sometimes two, curled, straight, crinkled, braided, plaited, even when you slapped a hat on. It was cute, everything you did was, really. “But I don’t like when you let your hair get like this.”

The section he had been working on is finally tangle free, and deft fingers quickly part and twist three strands into a tight plait before he’s moving onto the next section. He starts off with his fingers, and then he follows up with the comb, only to switch back when your complaints get too loud.

“Can we take a break?”

“No.”

“Suguru.” You tilt your head back to look up at him from where you’re sat between his legs, a cushion underneath you, and he sighs through his nose at the sight of your wet lashes. He nearly gives in, but he remembers that he already has, four times, and that’s why the two of you are still sat here hours later.

“No, now turn around so I can finish.”

He resumes, taking care to avoid snags as best he can, and using his fingers instead of the comb when the tangles aren’t too bad. He periodically checks on you, leaning over so he can see into your face, and you always answer his silent inquiry with a scowl that he chuckles at each time.

When he nears the front, he has you tilt your head back so it rests in his lap, forcing you to look up at him. He pays no mind to the water that seeps into the fabric of his sweats, instead intensely focused on separating the strands. He’s acutely aware that you’re most sensitive at the edges of your hairline, and he tries his best to be as gentle as he can, working slowly.

By the time he’s finished you’ve dozed off, and he lets an unbridled smile spread across his face at the sight of you. You’re lightly snoring, lips parted and lashes brushing against the tops of your cheeks, and he bends to press a kiss to your open mouth.

You don’t stir, and he does it again, and again, until your nose is twitching and your eyes are blinking open. “Suguru?” You yawn, and he moves to kiss your nose. “You’re done?” He hums in confirmation, and with a final kiss to your forehead he’s straightening up, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your temples.

“Just gotta wash it now.” You sigh and relax against him. “Then I’ll blow dry and you can style.”

“Hm,” you purse your lips. “Maybe I’ll do buns again.” He pinches at your cheek, and you squeal out a laugh as you bat his hand away.

“It doesn’t matter what you choose to do, really. I’m gonna sweat it out either way.”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

#getou x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff

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mytheoristavenue · 1 year

Note

Can you maybe do one of one piece men hearing their shy s/o yell at them for the first time? Or first time their shy s/o acts bratty ? Can be fluff , agnst or NSFW, whatever you'd like my love. I'm sure it'll turn out good , I loved your other ones that you've written!! ❤️❤️ BTW that sanji speaking French got my good 😫😫🤌 *chefs kiss*

I'll do all three! I hope it's alright that I only do Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, and Usopp for this one! Since I'm going to do three separate scenarios for each, it would be a lot of work to do that for as many characters as I included in my last post! If I missed anyone you specifically wanted, let me know!

Straw Hat Men + Shy!S/O Yelling for the First Time 🍋

Summary: How your Straw Hat boyfriend reacts to hearing you raise your voice for the first time in an angsty, fluffy, and NSFW scenario.

Waring: NSFW, MDNI, fluff, angst, fem!reader

Note: I did mark this one with a lemon as I usually do with NSFW content, but only 1/3rd of it will be! The different scenarios will be marked with a '💕💔🍋', for fluff, angst, and smut respectively. If you've seen any of my masterlists, they also operate under this same key.

Monkey D. Luffy:

💕 Your least favorite part of being a pirate was the fact that your boyfriend was your captain. If you could leave and join a different crew without it being a relationship ending action, you would most certainly consider it. It wasn't always bad of course, but with it was bad- it was awful.

As your lover, Luffy was stubborn, but as your captain it was ten fold. once he settled on a bad idea, there was no changing his mind, no matter how much your opinion as his partner mattered to him. Typically, it was something you could look pasted, but you had to admit, his last bright idea had left you bitter with him, and the way he hounded you for answers as you why you were ignoring him was doing him no favors.

"Awe, c'mon, babe!" he giggled, wrapping his elastic arms around your waist, pulling you back to him after you'd walked away from him. "I'm sorry you got all wet!" he offered, only receiving a sharp glare form over your shoulder.

Earlier that day, he had decided that everyone would go into the town to do some shopping on the island you'd ported on. You picked out a lovely floral sundress, and worn it out of the store after buying it, excited to show him how pretty it looked on you. To your surprise, and later anger, he enthusiastically scooped you up and tried to swing you along with him back to the Sunny, only to miss. Not only did you both collide with the ship's hull, but you also fell into the water, making his survival your responsibility.

"Luffy, that dress was very expensive. I rarely buy myself nice things, and the one time I did, I didn't even have it for ten minutes before you ruined it." you pouted quietly, still unwillingly wrapped in his arms.

"I'm sure it's not ruined, babe, we can wash it." he dismissed, making your blood boil. You couldn't contain your frustration at him.

"No, we can't!" you snapped, pushing him away to glare at him with hands on hips. "It's silk, you can't just toss it in the washing machine! I has to be professionally cleaned, and you just had us set sail away from the only place I could take it to! Who knows how long it'll take us to find another island with a dry cleaners', and even if we found one tomorrow, it wouldn't matter! The stain is already set!"

Luffy simply blinked at your ranting. He didn't understand any of what you'd just said. He wasn't even entirely sure what silk was or why it was so different from regular fabric, but he could recognize that he'd upset you, which he felt bad for. "Awe...I'm sorry babe." he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck shamefully.

"You should be!" you huffed, crossing your arms and turning your back on him.

"Tell you what," he smiled, wrapping his arms around you again, this time laying his head on your shoulder. "Next time we port, we'll go out- just you and me and I'll take you shopping again. I'll have Nami set some of my money aside and it'll me my treat. And I'll see if Franky can build something that can wash silk." he negotiated, melting the tough coating around your heart. "We'll get you all the expensive clothes you want, and that way, you'll be able to to clean them if you need to."

"Luffy..." you swooned, turning in his arms to face him. "You promise?" He nodded with a ear to ear grin, and you threw yourself into his embrace. "Oh, I can't stay mad at you, you're too sweet!"

💔 The second time Luffy heard you raise you voice at him, it was a gut wrenching scream, accompanied by tears. The part that disturbed him most, however, was the fact that it wasn't really at him, but more for him.

"Stop it!" your voice rang out across a smoking battlefield, crack and desperate. "Please, stop, you'll kill him!" You were yards away, but you could still see the light leaving your boyfriend's eyes as he laid motionless on the ground from where you were being subdued.

The marines had ambushed the crew while at an island you'd stopped at for supplies. Kizaru stood over him, glancing over at you when he'd heard, his signature smug grin unfaltering as he made his way over to you. "That's the point, dollface."he cooed. "Dead or alive, or so the saying goes."

"P-Please," you negotiated. "Please, you can have me instead. I-I'm worth something right?" You struggled to remember your current bounty.

"You want me to give up one of the most wanted men on the seas," he chuckled, looming over you. "For a measly ten million berries?Honey," he smirked, eyes darting to Luffy, still unmoving, and back to you. "The only thing that makes you worth anything is your value to him. Now that we've got Straw Hat, we don't have a use for you."

"That's...not true..." a broken and tired voice graveled from where he once lay. Your hopefully eyes snapped to your partner as he slowly rose to face the admiral in your stead.

"Luffy!" you shrieked, relieved tears streaming down your cheeks.

"Still kickin', huh?" Kizaru laughed, turning his attention back.

"That's not true, (Y/N)." your captain continued, entirely ignoring his enemy, yet still walking towards him and not you. "You're worth so much more than being my girlfriend. You're a Straw Hat, and that means so much more!"

🍋 Luffy had never known you to be the most verbal person when it came to physical pleasures, and the silent sighs and tiny gasps became a common song that he learned to enjoy above all others. that was until he heard what you were really capable of.

"Oh, fuck, Luffy!" you cried, tossing your head back in eustasy. He froze entirely for a moment, gazing up at you in awe as you rode him, bouncing with delight, and cursing his name like the sailor you were. You were so entranced that you failed out notice his lack of participation as he watched you put in all the work he normally would.

Hearing those loud, dirty words tumble over your lips did something to him- snapped some sort of line that tethered him to his control. "(Y/N), baby?" he spoke lowly, breaking you of your spell. You immediately began apologizing, bringing your hands to cover your blushing face, only to be caught by the wrists. "What have you never moaned for me like that before?"

"I-I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me!" you sputtered, humiliated by your lewd behaviors.

"Well," he decided, guiding your trembling hands to his hair, before winding his rubber arms around your waist and clenching your doughy thighs as hard as he could without doing actual damage. "We're gonna fuckin' find out!"

Roronoa Zoro:

💕 You had been ignoring Zoro all day long and it was starting to drive him crazy, though he wasn't going to let you on to that fact. He eyed from from across the deck as you chatted with Nami about something he didn't care about. Anytime you would catch him looking at you, you'd huff, turn your nose at him, and make it a point to very sweetly ask Sanji for something. Every time, the doting chef would give into your every whim, bringing you parfaits, making you something special for lunch, or even a fancy glass of water with cucumber and mint. Finally, your boyfriend decided he'd had enough.

"Why are you acting like such a brat today?" he grilled sternly, looming over your lounge chair as you tanned. "You better not be trying to make me jealous of that damn cook."

You gasped dramatically, sharing a shocked looked with Nami, before you both rolled your eyes at him. "You've got some nerve calling me a brat." you spat back at him, turning your attention back to your magazine.

"Well, you're acting like one!" Zoro protested.

"Yeah, well," you huffed. "At least Sanji's nice to me and gives me attention when I want it!" Nami silently agreed with you, nodding her head as you spoke.

"Oh my God," your boyfriend groaned, rolling his eyes and slumping his shoulders. "Is that what this is about? Damn, you're so annoying."

You scowled at him, throwing your magazine onto the floor in a fit. "No, Zoro, you know what's annoying? Trying to spend time with your boyfriend, only to get passed up for lifting stupid weights!" you shouted, collecting the attention of many of your nakamas, which embarrassed him quite a bit. "All you do is work out or clean your damn swords! I wake up, and you're not in bed because your training, I go to bed and- same thing!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry I have to train to keep you protected you highness!" he snarled back at you. "It's not like I've saved your life or anything."

"Oh, thank you for not letting me die! Boyfriend of the damn year!"

"Jesus Christ," he growled, finally giving in under all the stares of his crewmates. "I'll skip work out tonight and we can cuddle all night, okay?"

"Okie dokie!" you beamed, demeanor immediately shifting back to the kind, sweet girl everyone knew you as. Zoro sighed, exhausted by your manipulation tactics; he needed a nap.

💔 Zoro's body froze solid, hearing you're voice from a location he couldn't pinpoint. His mind went into fight or flight mode as the fear and desperation in your voice struck him like a pendent in a church bell, sending vibrations all throughout him. "Zoro!"

"(Y/N)?!" he called back, spinning as he took in his surroundings. He could see so many people, but none of them were you. Where were you?

"Zoro!" Suddenly, you broke through the crowd, making a mad dash for him, leaping into his arms before he could register it. "Oh my gosh, I thought I'd lost you!" you cried into his chest. "I was so worried!"

He was still frozen, for the first time in his life unable to act. "Y-you were worried about me?" he stammered, having trouble wrapping his head around the idea.

"Yes!" you replied, nuzzling into his throat. "There's marines on the island, and when I turned around and you weren't there I thought you were in trouble!"

"If that's the case, you should have gone back to the ship." he scolded you lightly, trying to mask how much his heart melted at your concern. "Now we're both in danger."

You shook your head quickly. "No, I'm not going anywhere without you! We'll go back together!" You insisted. "What if you get lost again?"

His stern face softened into a loving smile, reflecting his feelings in the moment, before grabbing you by the hand. "Fine, let's go. You lead the way."

🍋 Zoro had never heard anything more lewd that the sounds he was extracting from you now. You were laid out in his arms, across his lap, his fingers reaching for invisible buttons inside you, making your tummy do flips. Each breath you took was ragged and punctuated a needy whine. Typically, you sang a song of soft hums, using his name as a refrain every so often, and he did adore that, but nothing could compare to the arousal he got from hearing you curse.

"Shit, Zoro, I-I-!" you were beyond the point of forming fully coherent sentences, most of them fading after a few words. His own breathing quickened as he worked you better and better by the minute.

"Yeah, baby," he groaned, his face contorting into a frustrated snarl. "Tell me all those dirty words you know."

God Usopp:

💕 "I said I'm sorry!" he squeaked, following you out of his workshop and into the bathroom. "It was an accident!" You ignored his pleas for your forgiveness as you walked up to the sink, leaning over to dip your head under the faucet. He had been showing you his newest star, when he shot it at a shelf, which in turn shook, knocking a bottle to toad oil onto your head. Your silence terrified him as he stood idly by watching you try to rinse it from your scalp. "I-If you let me take a bath with you, I'll wash it all out-" His nervous negotiations were cut short by your harsh glare.

He wrung his hands, pacing back and forth as you disrobed and slipped into the washroom, heading straight for the shower in the corner. Reluctantly, he followed you, fully clothed, unsure if he was meant to or not. "I really am sorry," he admitted, stepping up behind you as you say on the stool and poured a bucket of water over your head. "Here, let me." he insisted, thoroughly rinsing your hair before massaging product into it. You wordlessly allowed him to was the oil out of your hair, enjoying the quiet of the moment, until he ruined that too.

"A-Are you gonna break up with me?" he piped up anxiously.

"No!" you shouted with an exaggerated sigh. "I'm not going to break up with you over this, Usopp, I'm just mad!"

"Sorry," he replied, embarrassed at his silly question. "Thank you..."

"For what?" you snapped, wishing he would simply stop talking for a few minutes.

"Giving me another chance." he answered quietly. You felt your heart tear a bit at his insecurity.

"Usopp, I would never leave you over something this small." you confirmed, glancing at him over the shoulder. "I know it was just an accident, and I forgive you. I just need a few little quiet time to cool off."

He nodded, prompting you to relax as he lathered your scalp. Within minutes, you were putty in his hands, and happy as a clam again.

💔 The way his name came out of you mouth tore Usopp apart. Though you weren't together yet at this time, he still held so much undying love for you, but his pride had gotten the better of him. He ignored your sobs as he walked away from the crew, choosing a broken ship over everyone who cared for him- including you.

"Usopp, you stop right there!" you commanded, tears steaming down your face as you struggled to run after him. You'd seen him respond when Kaya did this, and you genuinely thought it would work, but obviously, given the circumstances, his love for her was much stronger than what he had claimed to have for you. "Please, come back! Usopp!"

You tumbled to the rocky shore of Water 7, having tripped over your own feet, your vision too obscured by tears to see straight. "Please!"

"C'mon, (Y/N)," Nami sniffled, pulling you to your feet only to hold you back from pursuing him further. "He's made his choice."

🍋 Usopp marveled up at you from between your thighs as you sat perched atop his face. As you rode, bucking your his against his chin, you failed to notice the escalation of your volume, but he didn't. He adored your shy, soft moans- even thought of them in his sleep but this was entirely new, and so much better.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" you chanted. "Love riding your pretty face, baby!" He melted beneath you as you writhed, crying out in ecstasy, using him the way you wanted. He watched as you raised your arms, tangling your fingers in your hair. "Wanna cum all over your face!" you sighed, entranced.

"Do it, angel." he purred, voice muffled by your heat as he ate his fill. Your eyes shot open as you realized your dirty thoughts had spilled into the open air.

"Oh my God!" you squealed, instantly pushing yourself away form his face, leaving a snail trail down his chest to where you currently sat at his pelvis. "I'm so embarrassed, I'm so sorry!"

Usopp's fingers delicately laced with yours as he pulled at your hand. "Get back up here," he cooed, guiding you back to your previous position. "Please cum all over my pretty face."

Vinsmoke Sanji:

💕 You pouted in the corner of the dining room as Sanji served dinner, setting your plate down in from of you, and delicately tying your napkin around your neck as he always did. "What's wrong, Mon amour?" he asked, softly petting your hair, only to have you turn your nose up at him. The rest of the crew looked on in curiosity as the chef continued to serve, all the while struggling to get you to give him time of day.

After the meal was finished and everyone else had left the table, you stayed to help him clean up as usual. "Mon trésor, talk to me." he insisted. Once again you ignored him, prompting him to take the dishes from your hands and set them aside, before cupping your cheek to ensure that your focus was only on him. "What's the matter?"

"Oh nothing," you scoffed. "Just wish I had a boyfriend that was only my boyfriend is all."

Sanji stared at you blankly, puzzled by your sudden aggression towards him. "I'm all yours, amour, why would you think otherwise?"

"You seem to be pretty friendly with every other girl you come across," you muttered bitterly.

"Are you jealous?" he smirked, only to find that, to you, this was no amusing matter.

"I shouldn't have to be!" you snapped, sniffling a bit. "I shouldn't have to feel like I have to compete for your attention..." He stood in front of you, lips ajar from surprise at your level of emotion on the matter. After a moment, he softened, pulling you into his chest.

"This world is full of beautiful people, male and female," he soothed as you resisted the urge to cry in front of him. "We can never simply turn off our attraction to people, but at the end of the day, you should know that you take up all the space in my heart."

"Some apology," you scoffed, trying to push his affections away.

"It's not an apology," he corrected. "Though, maybe it should be. I'm sorry I hurt your feelings, amour." he cooed, petting your hair and letting you be frustrated with him. Sanji was never one to try and sort out a problem immediately. He knew emotions took time to ease through, and how unhealthy rushing that could be. "Would you like some time to yourself?" he offered, pulling away from you to look into your eyes. You shook your head lightly, before nuzzling back into his chest. "Would you give me a chance to make it up to you?" You nodded shallowly, your hair getting mussed and collecting static from his shirt.

He smiled sweetly, parting from you, and holding you at arms' length. "Tell you what," he began, glancing over to the sink full of dishes. "Give me a few minutes to clean this up, you go get in the tub and wait for me."

💔 You stood in the pouring rain, outside looking in on a private moment. Sanji, the man who'd sworn his eternal love for you was there, embracing his wife to be the day before their wedding. His face was battered and bruised as he whispered to her. "Let's get married tomorrow."

Against all your better judgement, your shattered heart forced agonized screams from your throat as you sobbed, slamming your fists on the glass. Your shoulders shook as the rain mixed with your tears as they slid down your face. Just beyond, you watched as Pudding, the woman who'd taken your place nearly jump from her skin, fearfully snuggling deeper into his embrace as she eyed you as if you'd hurt her.

Sanji however never bothered to look. He heard you, he was just choosing to ignore your cries, no matter how deeply they bothered him. He could feel his decisions effect you in the form of guilty sweat dripping down his spine. Eventually, he turned his back to you, pulling his bride away as they exited the room. He couldn't stand the pitiful sight of you any longer, lest he begin to weep himself.

🍋 Sanji stared down at you, love and passion exuding from his pores as he made love to you. He held your legs securely over his shoulders as he eased in and out of you, counting how many times your breath would hitch before you could exhale. "Me prends si bien, chérie." he purred, leaning into your ear, nearly folding you in half.

"S-Sanji..." you whimpered, face numb from the overwhelming pleasure you were under. You couldn't hold back the way your volume was increasing, no matter how humiliating. He was worth being embarrassed for.

"Oui, mon amour?"

"F-Feels so good!" you affirmed, the need to feel useful swallowing you whole. You wanted to be an active participant, not simply a toy, but the way he loved on you left you paralyzed. "Wanna make you feel good too..."

"Tu me fais me sentir divine, chérie." he soothed, letting go of a weighted breath. "Continue juste à chanter comme ça pour moi, d'accord?"

Translations:

Mon amour/amour = My love/love

Trésor = Treasure

"Me prends si bien, chérie." = "Taking me so well, darling."

"Oui, mon amour?" = "Yes, my love?"

"Tu me fais me sentir divine, chérie." = "You make me feel divine, darling."

"Continue juste à chanter comme ça pour moi, d'accord?" = "Just keep singing like that for me, okay?"

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece smut #one piece hcs #one piece fluff #monkey d. luffy #roronoa zoro #usopp #vinsmoke sanji

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treedaddymcpuffpuff · 1 month

Text

JOHN WICK WIPS (INSPO FROM THE BRILLIANT @scarlettspectra) ; READ TW 🕊️

──────── #1 SAVE ME, JW

“You want me to leave you alone, don’t you?” You’re willing to let this one slide, despite the trouble you’ll get in later for it. Maybe a few bruising slaps, nothing you can’t handle.

“You can’t now.”

You look at him strangely. “I can.”

“Your boss is expecting you to deliver.”

You wonder how he knows all this, how he can be casual about it.

“Look at me.” You grin, unbothered, only a little frightened of consequences and repercussions. “You think I’m not used to losing?”

He does look at you, really, and it makes you shudder. Underneath all that grief is slaughter. Bodies piled and burning. Your mouth runs dry and the grin falls. “What are you here for?”

He wipes alcohol from his bottom lip. “Your boss.”

You prickle. “Please.” He betrays no sympathy, so you try again. “Please don’t. I need to protect them.”

“Den mother?” He asks.

You look over your shoulder to the oblivious family you’ve grown to love. Men and women in scantily clad outfits just trying to live in this fucked up world.

“Yeah,” you nod, taking a huge drink of alcohol to numb the future.

It doesn’t help.

He puts his hand on your arm, steadying the shakes. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

You find yourself laughing despite the gravity of the situation. “You’re one man. He’ll have you killed, and we’ll get caught in the crossfire.”

He tips down the last of his drink. “Get them out.”

“And then he’ll come looking for me,” you hiss, leaning on the table with your head in your hands.

He says, without a crumb of doubt: “no he won’t.”

──────── #2 NONCON ; DEAD DOVE ; DARK DARK DARK JW

There’s black hellfire in his eyes, a dark promise to make you sorry for your miserable little John-free existence, and, for a second, you resign to the notion that he is going to keep his iron grip around your suffocating throat until you pass out. Your vision is already blurring and darkening, claws scratching pitifully at his arms. A little woodland creature in a big bear trap.

But, he lets you go, dropping you right on the hard floor, and you land on your ass, gasping for air, face soaked from tears, dress ripped down the middle. He jams his pointy shoe in between your legs, pressing the tip into your cunt, hurting you.

“John, please,” you whimper through gritty teeth, trying to push his leg away and only getting a big black dress shoe crushing your pussy as reward.

Your head flips back, neck craning just enough to put agonizing tension on your scalp and spine. His fist nets what feels like every tearing hair on your head, and you can’t help but screech in pain.

“Please,” he repeats, voice eerily calm even as he’s shoving his fingers down your throat and making you choke. He pulls out and leaves thick white spit dripping onto your pouty lips and chin. He smears the excess on your cheek and smiles down at you - almost lovingly - “you’re begging already? Fucking pathetic.” His foot digs deeper into your sensitive pussy and you let out a cry, proving his point.

“Oh, I missed this tight little cunt,” he sighs and closes his eyes as if talking to himself. “Thought about her every fucking day.”

“John, I’m sorry, I-“

“Shut up.” He slaps you on the cheek, hard enough to leave a big red welt, then lugs you up by your hair. He doesn’t bother to move his leg, so your bare skin scrapes raw on the rough fabric of his pants. “The only thing that’s gonna come out of that pretty mouth from now on is ‘yes, John.’”

He spins you around, manhandles you onto the counter, presses his cock into the cotton of your panties and slaps your ass harder than he had done to your face. He watches your plump jiggle and retract, wets his lips, grunts. “Did you hear me, baby?” He slaps the same spot, and you yelp and claw at the counter.

“Yes, John.” The phone is right beside your head, you see the screen light up with worried texts from your friends, asking if you’re home yet. You could try and pick it up, call someone, dial 911, but this is John, and you know there’s not a chance in hell you could touch that phone without him crushing it in one grip.

“Oh?” He sees where your eyes are, of course he does. He’s a fucking lethal predator, and you’re just a stupid girl. “You wanna call somebody to come save you? Do it. Call them. But you’re gonna watch attentively while I kill them all, I can promise you that, honey.”

──────── #3 HOUSE PET

The cute baby blue collar around your squishy, bruised neck - and how can he help but mark you up? It’s so easy to dig his teeth into your skin and latch on.

The cream-pink cheeky underwear nestled tight to your flesh, hidden under a mid thigh denim skirt.

The delicate bralette, useless in caging your heavy, bouncing breasts - even with the aid of the tight pink camisole.

Just for him, an opaque, creamy white, mock garter hugging your thighs and making the fat bulge and jiggle over the snug tops.

John wants to lap at that flesh like you would with melting ice cream from the cone.

He tugs on your little leather leash. The one accessory on your body that’s not pastel and sickly feminine. This shiny lead indicates that the tether between your neck and his hand belongs solely to him.

Adorable cuffs around your wrists and ankles - color made to match collar.

His hands, so steady and thick, inching up your inner thighs and making you giggle and twitch.

He knows you’re so very ticklish right in the crease of your thighs. So adorable trying to squirm away from him even though you know it’s completely useless.

“Johnny, stop it,” you gurgle, slapping at his plucking and pinching fingers.

His mouth contradicts his rough hands, giving you tiny, loving kisses all over your hot face. His smile melts you into a pliant doll, ready to be played with.

At his total mercy - eager to be at his total mercy - not one vulnerability he doesn’t see and latch onto, yet so completely safe and sheltered under him. Like standing in the eye of a tornado, or being a sucker fish on the side of a big great white.

You card your hands through his silky hair, pushing it out of his face and pushing your caged cunt up into his teasing thumb. “I love you.”

“I love you.” He licks at your lips and you open for him, ready to be devoured and left breathless from his mouth.

──────── #4 THAT FUCKIN WHITE HENLEY

“Good boy,” I say, “good boy. Who’s my good boy, huh?”

The tiny Italian greyhound bounces high enough to kiss my face, and I’m giggling in delight. “Yes! You’re my good boy. Go get it!” I throw the ball and he’s gone in a flash, fast a lightning, legs moving so swift I can’t even see them under his little body.

I turn back to the house, where John is situated on our little deck and fixing the grill up.

Instead of coming to me, Oz runs to Dad, and drops the ball at his feet.

My husband picks it up, shows it to Oz, then shows it to me, still leaning down, the upper half of his torso partially obscured by porch rails.

He smiles at me, eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, yeah,” I call over, giggling, “you throw better than me!”

He looks back at the dog. “Don’t be mean to your mom, Oz. It’s not her fault she sucked at gym class.”

Ozzie barks, uninterested in our banter, all eyes for his toy, and I laugh, mouth popping open in mock offensive gesture. “I’m sorry we can’t all be built for high impact sports.” I stick my tongue out at John, and earn a soft chuckle.

He stands up, brushes his blue jeans off and - oh - I haven’t seen this shirt before.

It’s just a damn shirt, and I’ve seen this man at least more than a couple times completely naked, so why am I salivating while he saunters up to me to hand me the ball. Oz, blissfully ignorant to the tension between us, happily trots after him.

He puts the ball in my hand, grins at me. “Thought you’d never wake up, sunshine.”

“I-uh-had a long night.” My cunt gives a diabolical throb. The thick fingers handing me the toy were the same ones scissor fucking my sopping cunt only a few hours ago.

“Poor baby,” he tsks, leaning down to kiss my head.

That fucking shirt. White, marled Henley with the v cut out so his chest can wink teasingly at me. Something about it makes me pulse in more places than my loving heart.

“Wear’d you get this shirt?” I ask him.

“You like it?” He says, twisting around so that I can see the taut bend in his waist and the way the fabric rumples and clings against his sinew and tendon.

I feel the urge to chomp down on my knuckle to avoid screaming.

“You look good,” I say, treading carefully, salivating. Jesus Christ to lord

His smile is all knowing, mischievous, awful, going straight to my pussy.

“I’m thinking barbecue chicken for lunch,” he says. “Would you like that?”

I’m not crazy, that last sentence is 100% dipped in sin and low toned. My cunt puckers. “Sounds good.”

He goes back to fixing the grill while I play with Oz. My throws are even worse now that I’m entirely distracted by watching his muscles move under creamy fabric.

Before I know it, he’s got my back pressed up against his front again, big body engulfing me. “Bad news, baby,” he murmurs, kissing my neck.

I giggle as his beard tickles my skin.

“The grill is out of commission. Let me take you out.” His smile is warm against my shoulder.

My stomach gives a little growl. “What’d you have in mind?” I ask.

“Whatever you want,” he tells me.

“Want you,” I tell him, reaching around to feel for the hard bulge under his denim.

He grabs my hand, spins me around, kisses my fingers and then sucks them into his mouth while I make an absolutely fool of myself and moan involuntarily.

“So impatient,” he tsks, “do I have to spank you again, needy little girl?”

This isn’t fucking fair.

#john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick fanfic #john wick fanfiction #john wick x plus size reader #x chubby reader #chubby reader #plus size reader #dark john wick

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ronearoundblindly · 20 days

Note

For the dirty A-Z headcanon game can I get an A for Steve Rogers?

From this ask game, and I love you to the end of the line, anon, because this is pretty much THE one I wanted to answer...

A - Alone Time

How does he get off when all by himself?

Does he watch porn?

Is it all in his imagination?

Does he jerk off?

Does he use toys?

In case it wasn't obvious... MINORS DNI (vaguely coded to be gender neutral for the possibility of steve x reader or stucky or whatever your flavor)

Here we go, babes. I know I've written several different versions of Steve in various universes, but this is gonna be more generalized and not involve the very specific background experiences I've written into other things. This is just my good ol' fashioned headcanon of Steve masturbating!

This man takes his time--or at least would prefer to--even when it's just him. He will gently touch/play with himself for a while before grabbing his dick. Grazing his nails over his thighs. Pinching his nipples. I think this dude really has a thing with his throat? Like he thinks about teeth along his neck or being pulled forward by it and, yes, a squeeze or two. Don't flame me, I'm just saying!

He craves foreplay, is what I mean, and I don't think Steve feels fully aroused unless more than just his genitals are involved in the act, ya know?

He watches porn, but only for examples. There's a whole lot in modern pornography that is a huge turn-off for him. Steve uses certain imagery or sounds/sayings that he found in porn and kinda edits them together for his pleasure later--like mentally edits, lord knows, because that man would not get the hang of Final Cut Pro OR iMovie, feel me?--plus that way he can imagine a certain someone's voice actually saying those things to him or doing them to him.

Which brings us to Steve's imagination which is unbelievably vivid and runs rampant. Think about it: he's a strategist. He has to see tons of possible scenarios play out all at once, analyze where that leads and where that leaves him, and then plan to thwart or redirect all that happens into an ideal outcome. Don't tell me that artist does not have an incredible mind's eye.

Then we get to Steve finally touching himself expressly to come.

He's toyed with himself for a while, maybe gotten close but held back, probably enjoyed finding friction not with his fist. For some reason, I thoroughly believe he has a thing for fabrics? This guy enjoys the glide of silk and satin. I bet his sheets are nice and slick so he can thrust against them a little and think of a pretty skirt or a dressy, formal glove.

Actual toys? Like the kind advertised as sex toys? Like the kind he'd have to purchase with money in some capacity? No. I think shy Steve hasn't figured out a way to discreetly (and by that I mean, untraceably) do that. He refuses to use anything online attached to his name--credit card or secondary/digital wallet whatever--to buy something or to tell someone what he would want them to buy for him because then that person would know! He'd keel over from embarrassment right then and there!! ARE YOU INSANE?!?!

No. What Steve will do is get seemingly useful things for innocuous reasons and play dumb blond if anyone ever insinuates it could be a sex toy. That man can and will absolutely lie like a champ to keep those secrets. That man is a super soldier but his muscles still get sore; that's what the massager is for, not his taint, nuh-uh no how. How dare you ask him!

Which brings us to the climax: his climax.

Steve prefers to finish in the shower. He's spent all that time enjoying the feel of his hands or various textures, the dry (but not painful) drag of everything before the slick lubrication of lotion or conditioner creates a welcome high under the spray of water, and then, yes, he can clean himself right off afterward. Highly efficient. Also very effective at training his brain to get off quickly in a shower if necessary.

Strategy, you guys, it's all about strategy.

Thank you for asking!

A/N: Are my answers to these like an audition for the Shameless Hoe Club? Maybe. Or maybe Ro has just lost the ability to filter herself...or care 🤭

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