#it's rude and disrespectful and you can fuck off
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It is truly astounding how the thyroid cancer I beat back in 2015 CONTINUES TO BE INCONVENIENT EVEN TODAY.
#Oh my GOD JUST GIVE ME AN ANSWER BODY#medical cw#cancer cw#Like the fact that I'm on medication for the rest of my life because a vital organ fucked off and went evil almost 8 years ago sucks enough#But this???#The fact that one error in the medication can cause problems in EVERYTHING 8 years afterwards?????#Rude!!!#Disrespectful!!!#Fucking bitchy!!!!!#Thyroid! Thou art a bitch!!!! Fuck of you!
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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ how long does it take to fuck your brother's best friend? (four whole days)
synopsis. suguru comes home to visit from college at the same time you do—except he brings satoru along. this is going to be a long break
word count. 8.5k (i am tired of this tomfoolery)
contents. college! au, brother's best friend! satoru, fem! reader, minors do not interact, three-year age gap (you're both early twenties), slightly mean satoru (when you’re kids), slight enemies to lovers, jealous! satoru, mentions of reader having an ex-bf, male masturbation, satoru is taller + carries reader, cunnilingus, fingering, handjobs, unprotected sex, brief mentions of alcohol (satoru), creampie, pet names (baby + sweetheart), not proofread i could not be bothered i’m sorry
notes. this was not supposed to be this long bye i am embarrassingly down bad for the blue-eyed freak
everyone knows that where there is satoru, there is suguru—and likewise, where there is suguru, there is satoru.
they’re a bit of a packaged deal, really. satoru befriends your brother in what you think must be some twisted stroke of luck—there is no way suguru would lower his standards for some rich bastard who’s had life made for him since the day he was born. but apparently, he does, and you’re stuck with a white-haired nuisance in your house at least once a week. for years.
you’ve known satoru since he was a whiny, snot-faced, and spoiled little brat. back then, he used to call you toothless—you were six, it’s normal for children at the age of six to lose a few teeth. just because satoru is nine and has grown his teeth back doesn’t mean he escaped the toothless phase himself—but satoru is just a jerk like that, pushes your buttons, and calls out your insecurities to get a good laugh.
you don’t smile with your mouth open even once around him that summer, not until suguru assures you that regardless of how many teeth you have, you have a lovely smile.
when you’re twelve, puberty does its thing, and now you’re stuck with acne-prone skin—also a normal occurrence for people your age, but satoru makes sure to point out the giant pimple on your forehead every time he sees you. you make sure to let him know his haircut is as awful as his sense of style, and suguru tries his best not to choke himself with his charger as you both bicker.
satoru is gone that entire summer for a family cruise that you’re sure costs double your house—he comes back frighteningly taller than you remember him within the span of just a few weeks.
it’s been like that since you were kids. he comes over, finds a new thing to pick on through his smug grins and smooth chuckles, and you fume as you bite back with just as snarky rebuttals. he makes sure to never cross the line of going too far—it’s more for suguru’s sake, you’re fairly sure—but stays right on the dot of getting just under your skin.
he’s annoying. a jerk. a rich snob. a privileged dickhead. he’s rude and disrespectful, with no tact, let alone any semblance of respect. you don’t understand what could possibly make suguru want to hang around such a douchebag, but suguru cares about satoru—and satoru has always been there for your brother.
you don’t understand it, but you respect it. as long as he doesn’t wet your entire bathroom sink and mirror in the mornings after he stays over, you suppose you can coexist.
but you haven’t seen him in ages—not outside of suguru’s instagram stories and posts. it’s been a long few years since the two of them have left for college, and by the time you leave too, life has its funny way of working, and, well…you don’t bump into him anymore. it doesn’t occur to you that satoru is not the same guy you used to know until you come back home to visit after your second year of college.
“suguru,” you call, “i borrowed your hoodie. but you can have it back—”
you cut yourself off when you open the door to your brother’s room, and lo and behold, stands a very shirtless gojo satoru, the white-haired and blue-eyed asshole you’ve had to deal with since childhood. except he’s way taller than you remember him—just how much does this guy grow, exactly? his shoulders are broader and….and since when did he have abs? there’s a small tattoo just under his collarbone—when did he even get that? his hair is also longer, just enough to fall over his forehead and curtain those striking blue eyes of his.
he looks…well, handsome. very handsome, in fact. dangerously handsome that it catches you by surprise as you blink.
he’s still shirtless, holding his t-shirt in his hands as he grins.
“hey, toothless,” he greets, voice deeper than the last time you heard it—but it still sounds relatively the same. you think you’d always recognize satoru’s voice, whether you’d like to or not. and, of course, he just has to still use that ridiculous nickname after all these years. “long time no see.”
“i have all my teeth now—i have for a long time, y’know. and put a shirt on, you freak,” you huff, rolling your eyes, “where’s suguru?”
“what, you don’t enjoy the view?” he motions at his bare torso, like the shameless bastard he is, “most girls love this view—”
“and yet, you’re still single,” you cut him off, staring at him pointedly.
he grins impossibly wider, tugging his shirt over his body swiftly—you have to exercise all ounces of control not to gulp as you watch his biceps flex.
“keepin’ track of my love life?” he wiggles his brows, “i know older men can be appealing but have a little class. your poor brother would lose his shit if you went after his best friend—”
“satoru,” you sigh, pinching your nose, “do you age backward or something? how are you still this obnoxious after so long?”
“i practice in the mirror,” he winks, “it’s my charm.”
“that’s hardly charming,” you roll your eyes, “anyway, whenever suguru comes back, let him know i left his hoodie, yeah?”
“sure,” he chuckles.
and then you close the door as you leave—right before you stop, pause, and open it up again as you’re sticking your head back in when you make a shocking realization.
“wait, how long are you here for?” you ask, eyes wide.
he has the audacity to look smug as he taps his chin and pretends to think—“oh, y’know. just the rest of break. my old man took my mom on some trip, so i’m killing time here,” he shrugs.
great. lovely. wonderful. just what you needed.
you wish he’d drop dead—maybe suguru will finally be forced to go outside of his one-man circle and actually befriend some respectable people.
“you can’t just stay at your place?” you hiss, “it’s certainly big enough.”
“well, why be lonely in an empty home when we can have fun here?” he hums, “consider yourself lucky—you get to be housemates with me for a—”
“keep to yourself,” you warn, cutting him off again through narrowed eyes and a dangerous glare—satoru only looks more amused, raising his hands up in surrender.
with that, you turn again and almost shut the door when he calls for you—“hey, toothless,” he says lowly, making you pause before turning to him with a raised brow. he smiles—it’s so unlike that usual smirk of his…somehow this one is a bit gentler as he murmurs, “you look good. grew up well, y’know.”
you blink. you’re not ready for that…didn’t expect a compliment from gojo satoru himself—especially not after all this time of throwing mediocre insults your way.
you decide he must be messing with you, so you purse your lips as you click your teeth in irritation. “yeah, sure,” you say dryly.
you can hear his chuckles as you close the door again—this is going to be a long break.
—————
just as expected, the house is simply not big enough for you and satoru.
the first time you run into him happens to be first thing after waking up—you’re walking up to the door just as he twists the knob and opens it, walking out shirtless. again.
this time, however, he’s got beads of water rolling down his skin from his shower, right between his pecs, as a towel hangs around his shoulders. you can see his tattoo from up close now, a small infinity sign right under his collarbone that contrasts against his pale skin.
how tacky, you think—just as you’d expect, even his choice of tattoos is questionable.
his hair is wet—it’s sticking to his forehead instead of the multiple directions it usually scatters around in that messy way it always does. you’ve only felt satoru’s hair once—when you were fifteen, and you’d hit him in the back of the head as you walked past him at the breakfast table. he’d made a jab at your dark circles. tests were around the corner, and unlike satoru, your grades actually mattered. you didn’t expect his hair to be so soft, but it is, and you almost itch to twirl the strands around your fingers for a quick feel.
instead, you scowl and stomp off to your room as soon as your dishes are washed.
his hair is probably just as soft now—maybe even softer now that he actually probably cares to look after it. you’ve heard suguru grumble about using two-in-one shampoo too many times when he comes back from spending the night at satoru’s. for a second, your fingers twitch to reach up and brush through a few strands on his forehead—just to feel them because they look soft. nothing else.
the urge is quickly killed as soon as he opens his mouth, however.
“oh, hey there, roomie,” he grins, “you’re really doing all you can to catch me half naked, huh?”
“don’t flatter yourself,” you grumble.
“i’m just sayin’,” he chuckles, “that’s twice now. if you ask nicely, i might walk around like this just for you.”
it’s way too early for this.
by early, it’s actually late noon. now that finals aren’t killing your free time, you stay up until ungodly hours to catch up with your social life—and it doesn’t help that you can hear satoru and suguru stay up playing video games the next room over, either. suguru is probably still sleeping.
that’s a bit of a shocker, in fact—usually, it’s satoru that has to be dragged out of your brother’s room to have breakfast (or brunch, really) before the kitchen is cleared up. why satoru is up first is beyond you.
maybe it’s just a cruel way for the universe to enjoy watching more of your veins pop.
“does that apply to asking you to leave? because then i suppose i can ask rather politely.”
he grins, eyes sparkling with amusement as he shoots you that smile with those pearly whites that irritate you to no end. you’re not sure why, but something about his smile looks so much different nowadays—something about it just seems so….mature.
that’s a word you didn’t think you’d ever use to describe satoru.
“mm, not quite,” he hums, “you’re still stuck with me.”
“whatever,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. “move, i want to shower before suguru wakes up.”
“you have time,” he steps to the side, letting you enter the bathroom, “he’s probably not waking up anytime soon—woah.”
satoru’s shirt is on the floor—why, you may ask? because he’s an annoying idiot who doesn’t have to clean up after himself when people have always been around to do it for him. he never has to care to aim and toss his clothes into the hamper because the maids will pick up after him anyway. old habits die hard, you suppose—you’ve listened to suguru complain about satoru’s messiness not improving even after being his roommate for the last few years. it’s never been your problem, but you don’t appreciate it now that you’re slipping over the fabric on the tiled floor, falling backwards with a squeal.
but satoru’s quick—he catches you with those strong arms of his and wraps them tightly around you, keeping you securely in place as he steadies you against his chest.
his bare chest, in fact.
you can feel the slight dampness seeping into your shirt, and you can feel his hot breath on your neck as he exhales in relief once he makes sure you’re safe. you almost shiver—almost, but you manage to scrape together enough self-control to stay painfully still in his grasp.
“you okay?” he murmurs gently, voice a low whisper against your skin. there’s no bite to his words. no amusement or teasing or even smugness. it’s genuine, the way he checks on you.
this is…new. very, very new.
“yeah,” you breathe, letting out a sharp breath. and then—“maybe keep your clothes in the fucking hamper next time, though.”
“sorry,” the smile in his voice is almost audible—you can’t see it from where you are, but you can hear it in his voice. you roll your eyes, and satoru makes no move to loosen his arms around you. for some reason, you don’t move.
you’re not sure why, but you just don’t.
“you’re still just as messy, huh?” you roll your eyes—he laughs, and it’s a smooth, boyish chuckle that almost makes you wonder for a moment if this is why girls seem to love satoru so much despite his god-awful personality.
it’s a pretty beautiful sound—you hate that you have to admit that to yourself.
“yeah,” he admits, “it drives suguru nuts.”
“yeah, i can’t imagine why,” you snort. it’s like that for a moment—satoru’s muscled arms around you and hard chest pressed against your back. finally, you clear your throat. “you can let go now, you know.”
“right,” he mumbles, slowly pulling away—and when you turn to face him….is that disappointment? on his face? you don’t get a chance to be sure because then he’s bending down to pick up his shirt before he’s standing—he’s already wiped the expression from his features completely by then. “sorry about that, toothless. i’ll keep my shirts off the floor next time.”
“that would be so kind of you,” you smile sarcastically.
and then you shut the door in his face and exhale as you lean against the wall.
this is going to be a longer break than you thought.
—————
the next time you run into him, it’s late at night. everyone is asleep—even your brother and his headache of a best friend, if the silence tells you anything. you can’t sleep, though, so you make your way to the kitchen to hunt for snacks. you’re skimming through the pantry before your eyes land on a surprise—a box of strawberry pocky sits nice and enticingly, right there for you to open and devour.
you grin, reaching over when—
“those are mine,” satoru calls, stepping into the kitchen, “brought them over myself. you should ask before touching people’s things.”
“you literally ate my leftovers the other night,” you say incredulously.
“those were yours? i thought they were suguru’s.” he raises a brow in surprise, making you click your teeth in irritation.
“the principle of asking still applies,” you purse your lips. and then defiantly, you open the box and grab a pack right before his eyes.
he scowls—but you know he doesn’t actually mind because he waits for you to finish grabbing yours before taking the box and grabbing his own pack and a coke from the fridge. you both take a seat at the kitchen table, across from each other, as you open the packaging and silently eat your newfound snack.
it’s satoru who breaks the silence first.
“do you still throw away the ends of these?”
you huff indignantly, not meeting his eyes as you take a bite off the strawberry-covered end, stopping at just where the cookie portion is uncoated. “yes. i’m eating these for the coating—not the bland biscuit part.”
“what’re you, five?” he snickers, earning a glare from you. defiantly, you pop the end of the pocky stick into your mouth just to prove a point—and then the look of distaste makes him cackle louder.
“shut up,” you hiss, “you talk too much.”
“the ladies love it when i do,” he bats his lashes—you stare at him blankly, unimpressed.
“yeah, as if.”
“hey, my ex-girlfriend totally did,” he defends.
ex-girlfriend? that’s a bit of a shocker—you didn’t know satoru dated anyone in the last few years, you haven’t seen or heard anything of it through suguru’s end. in all realness, you didn’t even think satoru was the boyfriend type…but then again, he’s not really the anything type. he just kind of exists to take up space and be the bane of your existence.
“i hope the poor girl is recovering well after dating you,” you shake your head, feigning a concerned look on your face that makes him roll his eyes—they’re still disturbingly bright even in the dark kitchen, dimly lit by the slightest bit of moonlight pouring in through the small window.
“i dated her freshman and sophomore year,” he says casually. you also didn’t expect that—that it lasted that long. something about satoru doesn’t strike you as the long-term relationship kind of guy. something about him doesn’t seem like the relationship kind of guy at all. not because he’s the type to mess around casually, but because he seems the type to seem disinterested all around—he’s snobby like that. “she was…alright, i guess.”
yeah. very snobby.
“you are such a sick bastard,” you spit.
he snorts, taking a bite of his pocky as he shakes his head in amusement. you’re as feisty as ever—it’s always fun riling you up, even if unintentionally.
“hey, it’s not like she was bad. she was just…well, she wasn’t interested in me like that either,” he shrugs, “i think it was just the sex. it was good, can’t lie there.”
“you’re so gross,” you roll your eyes, “have some decorum.”
“what, you’re still sixteen?” he raises a brow, lips curling into a smirk as he reaches for another pocky, “can’t say the word s-e-x?”
“i don’t broadcast my sexual activities out in the open,” you shrug.
satoru chuckles, taking a bite that more or less finishes the entire stick in one go before he presses a finger to his lips, “shh. don’t say that too loud—suguru will come chase you from his room if he hears.”
“suguru,” you groan, “he’s such a pain to have around sometimes. y’know i dated this one guy last year. i think suguru might’ve paid him to dump me.”
“i know. he definitely thought about it,” satoru hums, “he used to go off about it all the time. he was right, though—that guy was a total prick.”
something about you is mildly shocked that satoru knows about your private life—sure, it’s not outrageous or even the slightest bit unlikely that suguru mentions you. satoru and suguru are best friends, and you happen to be suguru’s sister—of course, suguru is bound to mention you here and there. it’s just the fact that satoru even pays attention to anything to do with you that surprises you—although you suppose it would be a good way for him to find his next source to push your buttons.
“i’m not surprised you think he’s a prick,” you nod, “it takes one to know one, after all.”
“oh yeah?” he snorts, waving you off, “i do, in fact remember anniversaries, y’know.”
“okay,” you sigh, defeated—your ex-boyfriend is admittedly not at the top of the list of your brightest choices. not even up halfway on the list. in fact, he’s so low on the list of good choices you’ve made, that willingly choosing to interact with satoru feels like an exceptional decision in comparison. and that’s saying something. “he was pretty bad. but he was really hot. when a guy looks like that, his values are the least of my worries.”
it’s a joke—you’re sure he knows that. but satoru takes a long sip from his coke, silent for a moment. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so serious, especially so suddenly.
“he can’t be that hot,” he mutters.
“oh he was really hot. probably the hottest guy i’ve ever talked to—” satoru bites his pocky a bit aggressively at that, “and he was so tall. maybe taller than you—how tall are you again? anyway, he was pretty enough to overlook his shortcomings.”
“he’s probably not taller than me,” he grumbles, frowning. you snort—men and their fragile little egos, you think in amusement.
“he was,” you tease, “he was so tall, i’d let him do whatever he wanted.”
“that’s a terrible way to look at it,” he scrunches his brows, “you shouldn’t let some guy walk all over you because he’s tall and his face is a bit easy on the eyes—”
“i know you’re not talking—”
“i’m serious,” he cuts you off. something about him reminds you of suguru for a moment—like he cares who you’re with because he has a reason to. as if you mean something to him, as if knowing someone who doesn’t deserve you has you in their palms is upsetting.
but then you shake the thought out of your head—satoru doesn’t care. he’s never had a reason to, and you don’t exactly plan to give him one, either.
“okay, dad,” you roll your eyes, “i learned my lesson. i have standards now.”
“good,” he nods—and then, as if to keep himself in character, he adds, “because i don’t want to help suguru kill someone, and it’s over something lame like forgetting his little sister’s anniversary. i’d like to go to jail for something more badass.”
“you and badass don’t belong in the same sentence,” you raise a brow. “let’s be realistic.”
“oh yeah? that’s rich coming from—”
“guys, it is five in the morning,” suguru grumbles, throwing a water bottle at satoru’s head. you glance at the kitchen entrance, eyeing a half-asleep and very irritable suguru as he crosses his arms, “can’t you idiots fight over who’s more of a loser at reasonable hours? some of us like to sleep.”
“want one?” you offer your pack of pocky, holding it out to him.
suguru blinks, contemplating for a second before sighing and trudging over.
“yeah,” he mutters, flicking your forehead. “gimme that.”
you watch woefully as suguru takes the entirety of your pack, swiftly sitting next to satoru and leaving you empty-handed. satoru snickers obnoxiously at the deflated look on your face—and then he holds out his pack to you.
you look between him and the pack for a moment before giving him a genuine smile. it’s a rare sight—he drinks it in as you carefully take one and bicker over something with suguru.
you’re pretty when you smile, he thinks—pretty enough that if you had horrible values (which you don’t), he might feel inclined to understand your (awful) reasoning for a moment.
and then he blinks and shakes the thoughts out of his head—it’s going to be a long break.
—————
satoru meets you when you’re six.
he’s nine at the time, and he feels on top of the world knowing he’s three whole years older than you—in hindsight, three years is not a very large gap, but to nine-year-old him, it feels like centuries. he’s remembered you as the fun little drama queen that’s too easy to poke fun at for years—that’s all you’ve always been: suguru’s younger sister who puffs her cheeks out and scowls way too often to be normal, the girl that’s way too easy to tease than should be standard.
somehow, he wasn’t expecting for you to come back so grown…and so hot. suddenly, it really hits him that you’re not a kid—have not really been for a long time now. he’s always treated you like you’re way younger than he is, way too little to be in his presence and be worthy of it—but you’ve really become a fine young woman.
a magnetizing one, in fact.
it’s now his third night at your house—your parents are as lovely and welcoming as ever, and suguru is always a good time to be around. but somehow, satoru is not satisfied. not anywhere near sated by the few, minimal moments of contact with you.
when did you get so pretty? although, as much as satoru has always liked to poke fun at you, you’ve never been ugly. not even a little—but you’ve grown into your features better, outgrown the awkward teenage era of your life, and now present yourself with a newfound confidence that just looks…so good. satoru doesn’t see his best friend's kid sister anymore—no, there’s something so alluring about you now.
the nail on the coffin that solidifies he’s officially screwed is when you mention your ex-boyfriend—why would your dating life make him this irrationally angry? why is the thought of someone being on the receiving end of your praise (and shameless heart-eyes) so aggravating for him?
he doesn’t know—but what he does know is that the raging boner has been killing him all morning ever since he woke up from…well, less than proper dreams about you.
so now he’s here, forehead pressed against your shower wall as the hot water hits his back, swollen cock in his fist as he thumbs at the tip, teasing the slit just the way he likes. he thinks about you—how he’d show you what makes him feel good, how you’d probably learn fast and take care of him just the way he needs.
your hand would look so much daintier compared to his—smaller, but he’s sure it would still feel infinitely better.
he bites his lip, fighting back a moan as he strokes himself slowly, pre cum smeared along the length of his hard, aching cock—red and angry at the tip, leaking with more pre cum no matter how many times his thumb collects every drop.
“f-fuck—” he breathes, and his voice lets out a shaky, breathy little call of your name—he’s screwed if anyone hears it. he’s sure you and suguru will both band together to kill him, but thankfully, the words are lost in the sound of the shower running. “fuck baby,” he says hoarsely, voice cracking ever so slightly as he whines.
it’s soft and quiet, the noises he makes—careful and deliberately hushed to make sure no one hears the improper way he’s thinking of you right now. but fuck, your tits are so pretty when you walk out of your room in a t-shirt in the mornings—he can just tell you’re not wearing a bra. he can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop trying to picture what they’d look like uncovered and bouncing.
“jus’ like that, baby,” he pants, whimpering softly as he squeezes around his tip, teasing himself with that slow, painful pace of his.
satoru is sure that if it were you, that if the hand stroking his cock right now was yours, you would never let him cum so easily—you’d drag it out just like this, pump him slowly and twist your hand around him in a pace that’s painfully not enough before ever thinking about letting him come undone.
it’s just the way that you are—never ready to back down from a challenge, unwilling to go down without a fight. but he loves it, he thinks—lives for the way you keep him on his toes and work for the satisfaction.
“more,” he gasps, “n-need more—gimme more, sweetheart.”
he imagines it—the way you’d kiss his jaw, maybe even the corner of his mouth, as you hum. say please, toru, you’d probably say—and fuck, he’d kill to hear you say toru.
“please,” he rasps, “please, baby. d-don’t tease.”
he can practically hear your light giggles, the sweet, okay, baby. no more teasing, that you might whisper. he’d also kill to hear you call him baby—he’s almost nauseous at the idea that some other guy must’ve heard the pet name from your lips before him. and then he lets himself pump his erection faster, squeezing tighter as his thighs quiver while he stands in the shower.
fuck—you feel so good. you’re not even here, but he’s sure you do, and he’s desperate to envision it. it practically hurts—the way he’s so hard and swollen and ready to release. just for you, he wants to tell you, he’s going to cum all for you.
“baby,” he whimpers, “‘m so, so close—fuck ‘m gonna cum. ‘s for you—gonna cum for you—ngh, sh-shit.”
and then there’s cum on the tile walls, on his hands, on his abs as they flex with every labored breath. satoru cums—hard. his eyes are squeezed shut, lips parted with a silent cry as he pants and strokes himself through his high. you’d kiss him, he likes to think, on his jaw and cheeks and maybe the tip of his nose as you sit on his lap and work him through his orgasm. you’d watch him closely, take in the way he comes undone for you, maybe even call him your pretty boy as he paints your hand white with his seed.
would you praise him? murmur softly into his ear and seal the gentle words with a kiss to his skin? would you stroke his hair from his face as you admire his blissful, fucked out little expression? maybe he’d ask you then—maybe he’d ask you to admit he’s way more handsome than that douchebag you dated as your hand holds his softening cock, sticky with his release.
god, what he wouldn’t do to see your hands coated with his cum—did you do this for your ex? did he look as hot as you claim he was when he came for you? the thought makes him sour—he grits his teeth and clenches his jaw at the idea, panting and catching his breath as he stares down at the mess he’s made.
he should feel bad—this is wrong. so, so wrong—suguru would kill him if he was aware satoru was lusting over his little sister. but it felt so fucking good—he’s never cum as hard as when he’s pictured cumming for you.
it can’t be that wrong, if that’s the case—can it?
——
“suguru,” your voice is shrill, deadly—like you’re out for blood. “next time you jack off in the shower, maybe clean the fucking wall? are you joking?”
“wha—i definitely cleaned that,” suguru defends.
oh, fuck, satoru thinks—he forgot to clean that. so he makes himself very scarce and stays within the confinements of suguru’s bedroom—his messy habits are starting to really catch up to him. if his defense, he really would clean that up…it’s just that he was a bit distracted.
“so you admit you jack off in our shower? our shower?” you sound inconsolable, downright devastated, and borderline hysterical. having siblings seems like a lot of trouble, he thinks—but then again, sometimes satoru is jealous of your bond with suguru. it’d be nice to have someone in his family he can actually depend on. “keep that shit for your bedroom, you jackass!”
“well, how am i supposed to do that when satoru is there? you tell me.”
“i don’t know! figure it the fuck out—you guys probably jack off together anyway.”
“what?” suguru sounds appalled, “we do not—that’s outrageous.”
“whatever,” you say—you sound almost murderous as you warn, “next time you better clean up your fucking mess, you asshole.”
satoru can’t help but smile a little—your pointer finger is definitely held up as you scold suguru—you’re so cute when you’re mad, he thinks. he almost wants to step out and catch a glimpse, but he decides against it for now.
silently, satoru thanks his best friend for taking one for the team—even if it was unknowingly.
—————
it’s night four.
satoru has surprisingly kept to himself—he even promptly looked away after meeting your eyes in the kitchen yesterday morning as you walked in for breakfast. that’s…new. a lot about satoru is new.
he’s taller and more muscular now—at one point, suguru used to tower over his scrawny little form. now he’s seemed to grow into his body, seemed to learn how to style himself better, and actually do his hair a bit. it’s still messy now that he’s just lazing around in your home—but it’s oddly handsome.
scarily handsome, in fact.
you don’t enjoy the idea of thinking about the jerk of your childhood like that—but ever since you felt the hard press of his chest against your back, sometimes you wonder what it’s like to know satoru outside of just your older brother’s obnoxious friend.
maybe, somewhere along the line, had you put your pride aside and actually tried to get to know him, maybe you both could at least be friendly. but then again, there’s never been any real animosity between you two—you can share a lighthearted talk from time to time, like that night in the kitchen.
you decide not to dwell on it too much, decide that he’s not really worth your thoughts when he’s just a guy who’s always been a bit too spoiled to learn how to be humble. instead, you go down to the kitchen to grab another pack of strawberry pocky—satoru will just have to deal with it. if he doesn’t want his snacks eaten, he shouldn’t keep them in the pantry where anyone could stumble across them.
you walk into the kitchen until—oh. it’s satoru. again.
“oh, hey,” he grins cheekily, taking a sip of his coke—he needs to break the habit of having so much sugar this late at night…but then again, why would it matter to you? “stalkin’ me?”
“for an unwelcomed guest, you sure do talk a lot,” you roll your eyes, making his lips curl into a smug little smirk.
“i don’t know—your parents seem to love having me over. what if i become their newest son?”
“i doubt my parents are looking to adopt you,” you raise a brow, slightly amused.
he hums, sipping his coke before blinking at you through those long, perfect lashes of his. “well, there are other ways to blend into a family. marriage, for example, is a great way.”
“you and my brother might as well marry each other,” you snort, “no one else will do it.”
“who said anything about suguru?” he winks, chuckling when your face twists into an exaggerated look of horror—always as dramatic as ever, you are. he can’t help but find an endearing side to it now.
satoru stands, walks over to where you are and stands in front of you as you scoff, shaking your head as you huff out a disbelieving chuckle.
“that’s pushing it,” you muse, “marrying you would be the last open option i’d have left—and even then i doubt i’d ever take it.”
“yeah?” he raises a brow, leaning in so close, you can practically feel his breath fan over you. he smells like expensive cologne and your shampoo—why is he using yours instead of suguru’s? before you can even ask him what he’s doing, he throws away the empty can of coke in the trash can behind you, eyes bright with amusement as your breath hitches.
it’s like he knows—the fucking asshole.
“yeah,” you breathe, “you don’t deserve me,” you try to say matter-of-factly. it comes off a bit more breathless than you intended—the air feels suffocating. maybe because satoru is so close, maybe because his breath is on your face, maybe because all you can smell and feel and hear is him.
you can’t find it in yourself to pull away—why aren’t you pulling away? it’s just like that day he caught you, when his arms wrapped around you and all you felt like doing was lean into his chest. what about satoru and you has shifted so quickly to make you want to do that? what makes him so easy to fall into when all you’ve always known was to shove at him?
he hums, leaning in closer and closer until his forehead touches yours. “you know who didn’t deserve you?” he asks, “that shitty ex of yours.”
you look up at him with wide eyes, speechless as his hands find purchase of your hips, grabbing them and pulling you closer—and against better judgment, your hands lay themselves across his chest. it’s as firm as you remember it.
“how would you know—”
“heard suguru rant about it all the time,” he murmurs, “how he forgot your dates. got you a shitty birthday present. didn’t show up to your anniversary. made you hang out with his friends and didn’t even meet half of yours. you’re tellin’ me he deserves you more than me?”
“he was hot—”
“yeah? and i’m not?”
he’s cocky—you hate that about him. always did. but he’s so close, so intoxicating, so irresistible, and fuck, he is hot—so incredibly hot, you’ve been losing sleep over it the last four nights no matter how hard you try to deny it.
“satoru, what are you—”
“y’know, i’ve been helping suguru pick your birthday presents since you were twelve. i’d pick you the best gifts,” his nose is brushing against yours now, lips just millimeters away from his as he speaks—“and i never forget an important date. i’m very punctual too, believe it or not. i’d meet your little friends—show ‘em what a catch i am when you introduce me.”
“and what am i supposed to do with this information?” you ask defiantly.
it’s a last-ditch effort—you both know this. you know exactly what he wants you to do with this information.
“i don’t know, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “what do you think?”
and then you’re kissing him—because fuck, satoru is right there, and how could you not? his chest is under your palms, his lips are right against yours, and you can feel his thumb rub circles into your hips.
so you kiss him—loop your arms around his neck and tug him closer and press your lips to his. he groans, responds almost instantly as his mouth molds against yours, kissing you deeper as his hand moves to cup your cheek.
your lips are softer than he thought, and his hair is silky against your fingers. you tug at the strands, grab a handful, and feel them against your fingers like you’ve wanted to for so long. and when he nips at your bottom lip, who are you to deny him? your lips part, letting his tongue slide in and taste you with a breathy sigh that makes your knees wobble.
“s-satoru,” you stutter, whispering between kisses, “suguru might come in like last time—”
“god,” he groans, head burying into your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against the skin, “don’t fucking talk about your brother right now. please.”
“my room,” you say urgently—it’s all he needs to hear before his hands are on your ass, grabbing you as you wrap your legs around his hips. it’s urgent, the way his mouth is back on yours—he doesn’t pull away even once the entire walk to your room, not even when he lets your back fall onto the mattress as he hovers over you, pressing kisses along your collarbone.
no bra, he notes happily, his hand sneaking under your shirt to toy with your pert nipples.
“god, you’ve been driving me fuckin’ crazy,” he mumbles, tugging the hem of your shirt over your arms and tossing it over his shoulder. he stares, takes in the sight of the same tits he’s been fantasizing over for the last few days in awe. “you know that? been thinkin’ about these for days,” he says lowly, cupping your tit and massaging as he presses a kiss to your jaw.
“you’re shameless,” you mutter, snorting before you cut yourself off with a gasp as he squeezes your nipple, pinching and rolling it between his fingers and pulling a soft whine from you.
“shhh,” he chuckles, tilting his head toward the wall next to you, “don’t want suguru to hear, do you? that wouldn’t be nice, would it?”
“it’ll be worse for you than me,” you grin, tugging at the hem of his own shirt, indicating you want it off. he grins widely, wiggling his brows and making you purse your lips.
“wanna see me shirtless again, huh? third times the charm, as they say,” he winks. you would retort with something as witty, but then your eyes fall on that tattoo again—right under his collarbone, making your hand reach out to trace it with your thumb.
“what compelled you to get this corny little tattoo of yours,” you grin, giggling as you trace over the small infinity sign.
for the first time, you think you witness satoru shy, blushing as he rubs the back of his neck and chuckles awkwardly. “that…that was an accident. when i got drunk for the first time.”
“oh,” you snort, “you’re so weak, satoru—”
“do me a favor, sweetheart,” he hums, cutting you off, “as much as i love when you say my name, say toru for me, yeah? i wanna hear it.”
you roll your eyes, huffing as your hand finds the back of his head and pulls him into another kiss, moaning into his mouth as he grinds the throbbing erection in his sweats over your heated core.
“toru,” you say breathlessly, “more.”
that’s all he needs to hear—satoru doesn’t waste a second before he’s crawling between your legs, sliding your cute little pajama pants down your legs before meeting your dripping pussy.
it’s wet—so wet, he almost wants to chuckle and tease you a bit. just for old-time's sake. but the ache that shoots down to his cock reminds him that he’s in no position to tease you when he’s not faring any better himself. so he spreads your legs, kisses lightly at your clit in a feather-like touch that has you whimpering and clutching the sheets in anticipation.
“how pretty,” he mumbles, “been hiding this pretty little thing all this time. what a perfect pussy.”
“satoru,” you gasp in embarrassment, hands reaching for his hair and tugging him closer to where you need him most—equal parts because you really need his mouth on your cunt and equal parts because you really need him to shut up.
but he chuckles, takes his time to spread your folds open with his thumbs, and watches in wonder as you flutter around nothing, arousal dripping and leaving a mess. it’s perfect—you’re perfect, and he wants to take his time with you.
“god, you’re soaked,” he groans, chuckling as he murmurs, “that’s fuckin’ cute.”
before you can even whine at the way his words are shameless, his mouth is back to kissing your clit, lips wrapping around it as he sucks and rolls his tongue along the sensitive bud. his fingers sink deep into you, pushing past your folds and slowly bullying into you until the tips of his fingers curl and brush against a spot that makes you squeal.
you gasp a breathy, “fuck, toru—” before he hums around your clit, vibrations making you whimper as he thrusts his fingers back in to hit that spot again. it’s sensitive, the way he makes you feel—your nerves are on fire, and your head is light, and fuck, it feels so good you can’t help but sob brokenly and squeeze your thighs around his head. he moans against your cunt, pulling his fingers out before letting his tongue lick a stripe along your slit, tasting you with a sharp inhale.
“f-feels good,” you whimper, biting your lip as your eyes crinkle at the corners from squeezing shut.
“yeah?” he hums, kissing your inner thigh, leaving a wet little sheen of his spit and your arousal on the skin, “that’s a good girl—just keep telling me how good i make you feel, kay?”
he could stay buried nose-deep into your pussy for as long as you let him—tongue alternating between fucking into you and rolling over your swollen clit, hearing the broken little gasps and whines of his name as you repeat toru over and over again like a prayer. his hand grips at your thigh, sinking his fingertips into the plush skin and rubbing soothingly with his thumb as you rut your hips and grind against his face.
satoru has half a mind to watch it again—to lick and suck at your core again and again just so he could burn into his mind what you look like when you cum. it’s divine—like he’s halfway to stepping into heaven and has to pause just to admire the sight before him.
your hips leave the mattress as your back arches, and your fingers tug relentlessly at his roots as your walls quiver, letting satoru taste every drop of your release as you press a palm to your hand and try to keep yourself from squealing at the pleasure.
suguru is right next door. you can’t wake him—can’t let him know this is what you and his best friend get up to in the late hours of the night.
it’s not until satoru pulls away, catching his breath as he wipes the wet trail on his chin does he realize how hard he is—how badly he’s aching as his cock strains against his sweats. he hisses as he frees himself; ridding his sweats and boxers and wrapping a large hand around the tip of his erection and smearing the leaking pre cum along his length.
you watch in awe, reaching over and replacing his hand with yours. satoru was right—your hand is infinitely smaller than his, and yet, it feels a great deal better. so much better, in fact, that his arms shake as he hovers over you, burying his head into your neck and groaning as you slowly stroke him, squeezing at the tip and rolling your thumb through the slit.
he didn’t even have to show you what he wanted, what makes him feel good, what makes his mind fog with pleasure and burn through every nerve. no, you figure it all out on your own, pulling strangled moans and hushed gasps from him that make your clit ache once more.
“fuck, baby,” he pants, “can’t last long like this—c’mon, g-gotta feel you.” gently, he pries your hand from his thick, pulsing cock, laying it against your stomach as he peers down in fascination. “i’ll be right here,” he hums, drawing a line on your skin right where his tip ends, “see that? that’s where you’ll feel me, sweetheart.”
“then let me feel you,” you murmur, cupping his cheeks and brushing a thumb over the skin, “fuck me, toru—wan’ it so bad.”
so he does—drags his tip along your folds and collects the slick pooling at your entrance before pushing his tip past your folds, splitting you in half as he slowly buries himself to the hilt. his jaw is clenched, breath labored as he waits for you to adjust, lets you kiss his cheeks and nose as you murmur how handsome he is, how perfect he feels, how good is to you.
“that asshole ever make you cum?” he asks lowly, “he ever eat your pussy like that? make you cum hard enough you had to cover your mouth so you’re not screaming his name?”
“no,” you breathe, quivering as his thumb rolls over your clit in slow circles, still painfully still as he stares down at you, “n-no, never. just you—only you—”
“good,” he grins, “that’s what i like to hear. and when i make you cum on my cock, make sure to tell me he’s never done that either, yeah?”
“you’re full of it,” you scoff, “always have been.”
“and you’re full of me,” he says cheekily, chuckling as you glare half-heartedly. “can i move, baby? please? need more, ‘s not enough. n-need more—”
“yeah,” you whimper, pulling him closer, chests brushing against each other as your lips meet in a sloppy kiss, “yeah—need more too, toru.”
satoru, in all his years of knowing you, has never seen the side of you that could be this gentle. the side that glides your hands over his back, feeling every flex and every pull of his muscles, gently caressing the skin like it’s holy, like it’s not worthy of marks—instead to be worshipped and revered with thoughtful touches. your lips sear into every part of him they can find—his lips, his forehead, his nose, his hair as his face digs into your neck. even your voice is a gentle whisper of his name, so soft and careful, it’s like saying it wrong could break him.
your hips buck up in tandem with his, meeting his rhythm as he slams into you, his balls slapping against your skin as he buries his cock into you as deep as it’ll go with every harsh thrust. you can feel his tip kissing against that sweet spot in the back of your walls, your abused cunt sucking him in and hugging around him as he groans.
the friction feels sickening, like he’ll pass out any second, like he’s floating between the precipice of pleasure and the edge of consciousness.
you do that to him—he doesn’t know how or when or why, but you make him feel like he doesn’t have a grip on his own senses. he doesn’t mind it so much, he thinks—doesn’t hate the idea of letting himself fall into your palm and wrap around him. it feels nicer that way, like it’s where he belongs.
“fuck, ‘s so tight,” he rasps, whining into your neck as your hand cups the back of his head, holding him in place. his hips are rutting into you sloppily now, barely maintaining the rhythm from before as he nears his high—but that doesn't stop him from angling into you perfectly, slamming into your sensitive spot every time without fail. “c-cum—’m gonna cum. cum with me, sweetheart.”
“‘m so close, toru,” you sob—and then, just as his thumb finds your clit again, rubbing harsh, desperate little circles to get you over the edge, you cum again—harder than the last time, spasming around his cock and pulling him in as you squeeze around him. “t-toru,” you gasp brokenly, “fuck, ‘s good—so good.”
“baby,” he moans lowly, “fuck, you’re so perfect. prettiest thing ever—prettiest pussy ever. i, sh-shit—” your orgasm quickly has him falling into his own, hot, thick ropes of cum spilling into you with every twitch of his cock, sweet little noises pulled from his throat that he sings into your neck, fucking his load into you.
it’s messy, the way cum spills out of you and coats his cock—but it’s perfect and feels so, so right. you can’t help but think how perfectly satoru fits against you as his body slumps on top of yours, panting and spent as he cages you in his arms.
your hand doesn’t leave his hair—now that you know how it feels, you don’t think you can stop threading your fingers through it, ever.
“wow, toothless,” he chuckles after a bit, “you’re seriously obsessed with me, huh? i mean, how long have you been nursing this crush on me, hmm? thinking about your brother’s best friend, you naughty little thing—”
“satoru, would you shut that mouth for once,” you hiss, rolling your eyes—still, there’s an affectionate grin on your lips this time as he chuckles into your skin.
“oh baby, i’m afraid this mouth never shuts, so you should get used—”
suddenly, you both freeze as you hear suguru’s voice through the door. “you two better not be fucking doing what i think you’re doing,” he seethes, making your jaw drop and satoru’s eyes widen.
fuck—that was never supposed to happen. suguru was never supposed to hear, let alone know.
“hey,” satoru starts, “if suguru kicks me out of our place, i can come be your new permanent housemate, right?”
do not comment about a part 2
but yeah he can come live with me any time and as long as he pays by sucking my tiddies i shall provide all food and utilities and everything
#teepods.writings#fics.#thirstee!#gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo smut#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk smut#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen smut
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secretly wishing and hoping that during her one on one with the manager tomorrow, Toxic Coworker(TM) realizes maybe this is not the job for her.
that, or she has a freakout about it and calls out for the next several days, leading to her getting let go due to too many absences
#she should go back to making her income off of all of her ~internet fans~ since she's so holier than thou and famous and everything#not like she even needs this job with how much her partner makes#i'm just so over how disrespectful she is#always assumes the worst intent from everyone and then is rude to you for it#i was trying my hardest to ignore her today so i wasn't really keeping track#but i think she was on her phone for a good 75% of our omshift overlap#and a significant portion of when she wasn't on her phone was spent literally cry-typing her massive list of grievances to bring to her 1:1#the one clear glance i stole just to see what the fuck she was typing and crying so aggressively about was the header for a whole section#about Behavior in the office...................#i'm really struggling with being sympathetic towards her when i know everyone else is acting with the best intentions#when anyone (but her) gets uppity about something it's bc patient care was impacted. which is a GOOD REASON.#i learned that early on and really respect how intensely my team cares about doing their job as best they can#meanwhile this girl gets mad when you even remotely consider that maybe this is the kind of job where it's good to do more than the bare#minimum? this is a real job with real impacting tasks that need to be done. the work needs to happen!#i'm not saying you have to break your limits or work a minute more than 40hrs/week. but you can't just show up and dick around for 8hrs#this isn't fucking mcdonalds#and sometimes! we have to do tasks! that we don't really enjoy! do i like sending faxes? no! it's tedious as hell! but do i do it anyway?#yes! because if i don't someone's literally not going to get their medication!!!#i'm anticapitalist and antiwork as hell but that doesn't mean no jobs should exist. it doesn't mean people in the medical field should stop#caring about their patients and doing the most they sustainably can for those patients#if you want a job where you don't have to care go somewhere else#it's unfair to literally everyone—yourself included—but most importantly to the patients who have trusted you with their care#personal#i don't want to leave this job yet but i'm honestly going fucking insane
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365 Days of Writing Prompts: Day 330
Adjective: Vivacious
Noun: Delta
Definitions for those who need/want them:
Vivacious: attractively lively and animated (typically used of a woman)
Delta: the fourth letter of the Greek alphabet (Δ, δ), transliterated as ‘d’; the fourth in a series of items, categories, etc; (astronomy) the fourth (usually fourth brightest) star in a constellation; a code word representing the letter D, used in radio communication; a difference between two things or values; (computing) a change or set of changes made to a file or program, especially as part of an update to a later version; a triangular tract tract of sediment deposited at the mouth of a river, typically where it diverges into several outlets; a region in northern Mississippi that lies between the Yazoo and Mississippi rivers and is known for its cotton and for blues music
#im rather late again#oops#i accidentally fell asleep (once again)#my girlfriend and i had a pretty exhausting day#cos we ran a pop-up shop for our art for about four hours and sadly we didnt make very much money#we also had a little girl come by multiple times and comment on all the things she loved and wanted to buy#and when she finally brought her mom over her mom kept shutting down everything she was asking for#(all of which we sell for much cheaper than we probably should)#and the mom kept saying how she (the little girl) could just 'make it herself'#which fucking sucks to hear as an artist and is just incorrect (thats the point of art whatever you make only YOU can make)#also thats so shitty to say to the little girl cos what if she tries to make something like our art and cant?#i just hated that mom for being so rude and disrespectful both to us as artists trying to make a living#and to her kid who just wanted a piece of art to brighten up her life#(cos her home life probably isnt great if her mom treats her and things she enjoys like that all the time)#(i also felt extra terrible for her because she wanted to buy one of my girlfriends clay cats cos it looked like her cat)#sorry for the wee rant but that just pissed me off and broke my heart at the same time#anyway i really like this prompt cos 'vivacious' is decently flexible despite having only one real definition#whereas 'delta' feels a bit like the opposite cos it has lots of definitions but each one is fairly rigid#currently im thinking of writing about a river 'delta' that is 'vivacious' because it has a lot of plant and animal life#and i think i will really love writing a poem like that#thanks for reading#writing#writer#creative writing#writing prompt#writeblr#trying to be a writeblr at least
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JJK men reaction to us saying it’s impossible to make us orgasm/cummm? 🥹
໒꒱ ₊˚ ‘ SLUT STRETCH ME OUT ! ’﹒⺡
gojo & geto, toji, sukuna, choso
𐚁̸ warnings. fem! reader, unprotected, backshots, praise, dirty talk, spanking, hair pulling, gojo and geto eating you out at the same time, choking, overstim, squìrting, daddy kink, díck slipping, mdni.
✰ TOJI FUSHIGURO
“fuck are you even talkin’ about.” toji scratches his head, watching as you straddle his lap. you had a mere pout go against your lips before struggling to get your words out. his voice pitches, a deep and rough low. needless to say it turned you on, quite more than you thought it would. “speak up. don’t like when ya mumble.”
“i’m serious,” you chastise, eyebrows sweetly furrowing. “no guy’s ever made me um— finish.”
toji had an unreadable expression, your breath hitches once he grips your hips before giving you an intimidating stare. “riiiiiight,” and he’s clearly not taking you serious. if anything, toji finds it insulting. you nearly moan, scooting up against his lap just to feel his bulge prod underneath your shorts. “and i’m a virgin,” he scoffs underneath his breath—you gasp, watching as he makes you turn around, facing the opposite way. your chest hits against the soft padded mattress before he trails a hand up your ass. “we can fix that problem right now, princess. just watch me.”
“how?”
“how?” he mocks your tone. “don’t ask stupid questions,” he spanks your ass, and you moan from the sheer recoil. for a split second, it tickles. yet that’s when he softly caresses the palm of his hand against his skin and you bite your lip once you suddenly feel the plump tip of his dick graze against your slick entrance. “now now, bend that ass over ‘n i’ll show ya how. how ‘bout that, girl.”
he was so mean, so sassy too. the air around you grew so thick. it made your toes curl, just knowing toji’s eyes was leering towards your rear the entire time. “good girl. like that. ass up ‘n face fuckin’ down,” and embarrassingly enough, you were already so soaked. sopping right through your pretty panties. he gets ahold of your ass, making it scoot up high before seconds later he’s deepening himself into you. “mhmm,” he grunts, feeling your warmth swallow him whole. toji’s cock was so thick, the hefty girth— you could feel your tongue start to shamelessly salivate. “no one’s really made ya orgasm, princess?”
“n— no,” you whine, feeling your slick coat him from all the way down to his base. your legs spread just a bit, and he’s just about halfway in before your lips part, forming into a cute 'o'. “think it’s some kind of scientific—”
“okay girl don’t piss me off,” toji grits, and once he’s finally in, a single thrust was just enough to send you straight over the edge. you kneeled on the bed, the right sight of your cheek presses against the sheets before you moan. “ain’t nothing scientific about this. y’er gonna have an orgasm. just trust me.”
you mewl each time he gives you a spank, a mean spank that merely rings throughout your ears. toji’s thick cock brushes against your entrance, and once he starts up a pace— it’s over.
toji’s pace, his movements . . it was simply delicious.
such sloppy rude hips smacking into you, you’re barely even clinging onto the bed by this point. your back is arched and by this point you’re being fucked against your own mattress. it was always known, whenever toji fucked… he fucked hard.
he loved you, but his striking disrespectful hips always said otherwise. this entire angle was purely amorous. this was always his favorite point of view, you with your ass all up, face being pummeled into the whitened silky sheets. everytime, you start to whine once you felt toji deepen his hits just a bit further. so good that he leans up directly close to you. the back of his foot prods against your neck and you feel his sock rub further down against your skin— the cottony wool that runs behind the back of your head sends you chills.
“t-tojiiiii, fuckkk,” you’d whimper, feeling him literally fuck you with his foot just resting against the back of your head. he was so lazy.. so lazy and yet you never failed to throb from it everytime.
“that’s not my name when ‘m deep inside this nasty cunt, girl. let’s try that again.” he gruffs lowly.
“fucking..” you grumble, cutting yourself off. he always found your attitude to be so amusing. toji leans up close, a hand wrapping around your neck as he’s still pounding such thick inches into you, ruthlessly. “daddy, think ‘m gonna cum. i—i feel it.” you spat, cutely wriggling your hips against him.
such a cute whiney voice, his length stretches so deep within you that it makes your eyes roll and roam everywhere. he’s just gifting you with hit after hit. your jaw just drops down the moment your left leg starts to profusely twitch.
once a sudden wave of nerves bundle and brew up inside you, you whine out a sweet, “oh my g-godddd,” whilst he’s still maneuvering plenty of circles against your pussy. you’re just here, arched over, bent over for toji fushiguro like some slut. his slut.
“good girl,” he huffs out, slowing down a bit. “relax for me, yeah. shut that mouth ‘n listen to how sloppy this pussy gets just for me. all for me.”
those two weak legs of yours, they felt like mush. shakey and just utterly useless. he spanks your ass a final time before he rubs tender circles against your throbbing sopping pussy that’s just barely getting over its recent euphoric release.
“she’s got so much to fuckin’ say, listen to her with me,” he whispers, using the entirety of his wrist to rub between your legs— he’s still plugged into your cunt with his shaft, yet he’s multitasking by playing with your pussy. you whine, your legs trembling in arousal and he just lowly chortles.
“awww. no back talk now, huh?” he purrs before playfully tugging your hair back, leaning to lick a long stripe down your neck. “exactly what i thought. can’t fuckin’ orgasm my ass.”
✰ SUKUNA RYŌMEN
“hm? never orgasmed before huh? greedy fuckin’ girl. ‘n here i’m thinking my fingers was just enough for you.” sukuna teases and you’re just speechless. he’s holding them up for you with the most cunning grin plastered on his face.
you moan, feeling him sink two thick pairs of digits into your slick heat. he sneaks a chaste kiss near your inner thigh before leaning in to press his lips against your pussy, savoring the sweetened taste. “kuna that’s not what i mean— i just, i want you to make me finish.”
“nah. don’t try ‘n correct me, little girl,” he grouses. “you are greedy,” he grunts, giving your cunt a swift spank to make your thighs twitch, “but fine. if you wanna orgasm that bad, i’ll give it to ya.” he mutters, warm minty breath going against your clit.
your sheeny lips part and part from the way he’s fingering you and eating you out, lapping you up so sloppy like— his lips latch and lock against your folds and your eyes just roll all the way back, wayyyyy back into the depths of darkness that your skull provided. he was so filthy, he just couldn’t help it.
you kiss your teeth freely, feeling his two fingers vigorously insert deeply. in and out, in and out. he’s prodding against that spot repeatedly again and again. it was nothing but a mere sight, all of the stimulation combined had you tongue tied and cross eyed.
“f-fuckkk, ‘kuna— sukuna.”
“shut the fuck up ‘n give me that orgasm, woman,” and your head gets all fuzzy— he’s so mean, giving your cunt even more various spanks, the palm of his hand is coated in nothing but your wet arousal and it’s so cute. “i gotta spank again ‘n again just to have you finish on me?”
“don’t tell me what to d— do.” you protest.
“last time i checked, i know how to make myself cum…. unlike someone,” he grunts with a menacing glare. it was so unintentionally sexy.
his cruel eyes stare right into yours before he sits up, spitting right on your pussy. a wet long glob trickles down and it’s so messy, he’s so messy.
he runs his middle finger down your slit and his eyes never once leaves your cunt— not even for a moment, a split second even. you meet eye contact again and as you hold the bottom of his chin, his fangs poke out. sukuna’s entire chin was covered with nothing but your sweet wetness. he laps it up slowly with his tongue, making sure you watch his every move before going back to plant a kiss against your throbbing entrance.
your were so close, never once staying still. you just squirm and squirm. gradually, you felt something start to unhurriedly build up—you couldn’t exactly pinpoint the feeling…. however, both of your ears started to burn up hot, electricity’s pulsing through you all at once. “i feel something s-sukuna.”
“course ya are” he hums cockily with a low raspy laugh following shortly after. once you wrap a hand around his length, you moan once he smears his throbbing leaky pre-swollen tip against your pulsating entrance. “messy little girl. so eager ‘n all just for me. can’t help but be nasty for me, huh.” and within quick moments, he already feels himself starting to bottom out. sukuna groans, feeling you selfishly swallow him up and it’s so warm. immensely, your walls grip around him tightly and you feel yourself reaching a specific shock waving peak. “let this pussy make a mess on me, don’t gotta be shy,” he hums. “it’s just you ‘n me here, girl.”
not only do you orgasm— you end up squirting all over him too. it comes out in a quick spray, and it’s so much that your maw drops and your eyes become insignificantly droopy.
it’s so adorable, at least in the curses eyes. sukuna barely gave you a few of his rigorous thrusts before you’re already losing yourself, your hearing turns into complete white noise. “o—oh my goddd.” you’d sob out, and he smirks.
sukuna gives you a chaste kiss, only to quickly pull away to teasingly lick against your bottom lip. “nasty little girl. didn’t no one tell you to fuckin’ squirt on me.”
“s— sorry,” you moan, feeling yourself still continuously throb. your orgasm took nearly everything out of you, you were panting and you watch him kiss you again and again, tasting the own flavor of yourself on his tongue. he pulls away, his pearly white fangs playfully biting near your lip before he brushes a thumb against your lip.
“that’s not what i wanted you to say, girl.” he rasps.
your body felt so tingly, for a moment you’re confused before you slump forward into his chest. “i— thank you?”
“and?”
“i love you, sukuna.”
“i love you too, brat,” he breathes, and as a thumb of his strums against the top of your lip, he snarls lowly, staring right into your eyes before squeezing your lips together. “now open your mouth. i want you to be more of a messy girl ‘n taste yourself some more. say ah.”
✰ SATORU GOJO & SUGURU GETO
“guys i’m not joking,” you protest between your words two best friends. you lie against between the two of them, basically sandwiched them both before a cute pout forms against your spit-glossed lips. “i literally can’t orgasm. i read somewhere ‘n think it’s genetic or something.”
geto chuckles. “genetic, hm?”
gojo leans near you to press a kiss against your neck.
“mmm. maybe you just haven’t found the right guy to do it right,” and you moan once gojo trails a hand down to part between your legs. “ooh i know. how ‘bout you let me ‘n sugu try to fix that with our tongues? maybe that’ll help.”
“for once, satoru doesn’t have a dumb idea.”
“shut up, man.”
once you tell them to go ahead, you suddenly found yourself being laid flat.
you mewl out a sweetened whimper, your ass raised all up in the air. geto runs a thumb down the slick part of your entrance before lapping his tongue against your cunt. his technique was always so filthy, eating you out like a starved man.
his tongue, it was so lengthy—you felt it skim all throughout your folds, occasionally sucking against your clit. your entire body tremors before you feel gojo lean in to slide his tongue against your puckering neglected hole. “so greedy. takin’ us both, right pretty girl?”
you whine at geto’s words, feeling the sensations of both of them eating you out— at the same time too, one focusing their attention towards your clit, another towards your ass. gojo moans, warm breath fanning against you before he repeatedly delves his tongue inside. he was so sloppy, breaking his lips away on occasion to spit before lapping it up for a final time. over and over, geto’s flicking his tongue against your sensitive nub for the umpteenth time and your body immediately starts to quaver. it felt too good, extremely. your mouth starts to grow dry and your toes just curl up with such quickness.
“f— fuckkk,” you’d sob out, wriggling your ass against geto’s face and he just snickers. he kisses the fat of your ass with a smack from his palm, and you moan. pretty soon, your thighs start to ache and you were merely drooling. “don’t s-stop, keep going pleaseeee.”
“taste so sweet,” gojo huffs out in frantic breaths, still running his pink tongue against your rim. you don’t think you’ve ever experienced something as lewd as this before—especially with the two of your best friends. the three of you fooled around a bit, practically inseparable, maybe occasionally eating you out every once and a while … but this? not by a mile.
geto smiles, already so pussy-drunk. your slick coats near the very bottom of chin—gifting it with your sweet wetness. how generous, as his tongue mindlessly hovers against your cunt, he gives it another long suck. each flick against your nub made you start to see stars— it was apparent, you were practically numb, although, you started to feel it. a sudden incoming wave approaching at a high chasing speed. you weren’t sure what it was but it was oddly unfamiliar.
“you’re being stingy, sugu,” gojo grumbles, shoving his best friend aside before rolling his tongue against your cunt also— you were just soaked, you heard a single slurp from gojo’s mouth and you had just about had it. a rippling tingle emerges, and static just pours right out of your hot-tempered ears. your orgasm was so cute, it was a mere squeak.
whilst you dissolve into pleasure, succumbing to whatever lewd voice that had you in a tight chokehold— geto’s still dragging his tongue against your clit before he turns toward gojo. “i’m the stingy one?” and right before gojo could reply with something snarky, he leans in and kisses gojo.
he moans, kissing back right away. the pure taste of your honeyed slick that ran down both of their chins, they tasted it. geto snickers, watching gojo suddenly form into a puddle, such an easy pushover. while they kissed, he pulls away before going back towards your cunt, spitting on it before pulling gojo’s head close to make out with him again— they both lock lips while fighting over over your cunt.
“s-suguru, ‘toru—” you’d moan, the arch in your back never subsiding.
“kiss me again, sugu—”
“no, satoru. this is about out girl. not you.”
“hmph, don’t gotta be so rude.”
✰ CHOSO KAMO
“you—you can’t orgasm either?” choso says with a sweet look of surprise. he has a genuine reaction, dark pools of eyes staring into you as you’re just barely hovering over his leaky tip. “thought it was just me.”
“really?” you murmur, not expecting that to be his reaction. choso had the cutest expression plastered on his face. he was sweating, a plethora of sweat droplets race down his bare chest before he clings onto your waist. with a nod, he skims his eyes down towards your body before shyly darting away. “you’ve never had a orgasm?”
choso replies in a timid tone, a weak grin forming on his lips. “no. that’s … kinda why i was gonna ask if we could make each other finish together,” and his face turns completely flushed—it’s adorable. “of course i-if you want to. i just … just wanna make sure you’re feeling good too ‘n not just me.”
you lean in to kiss near his cheek and he moans just from the simple touch. a sweet mewl departs from his lips, and once you gradually make your way onto his hardened length, he sighs deeply.
“let’s do it together then, baby,” and choso’s droopy eyes stare at you once more. it’s cute, he swallows thickly before feeling you slowly bury his cock right into your gripping walls. you lean in to plant a wet kiss near the crook of his neck before you started to move. “hey, look at me.”
“i— i don’t like when you call me baby,” he pouts, feeling you start to create a rhythmic pace. your hips moved so slow against him, pretty soon choso’s dark irises started to roll swiftly in harmony. “it’s embarrassing.”
“it’s cute,” you tease, rocking back and forth. everything felt like an illusion—just being engulfed in your wet heat, it was a dream. choso couldn’t even try to suppress the lewd moan that leaves his lips each and every single time. “you’re even more louder than me, baby.”
“shut up, ‘s not t-trueee,” and his words briefly drag before you quicken the movement of your hips by default. choso’s sat manspread, and he’s just about to lose it. your pussy grips against him tightly, and it’s so good that he’s huffing out white breaths of air each time. “y—you’re such a,” and he pauses before groaning. his left thigh starts to bounce, a cute attempt at trying to keep up with your pace and that’s when he feels his dick pound into you again and again. thwacking, it became repetitive, he’s captured in a hypnotic trance all because of your hips. “love how you fuck me s-so good, pretty girl.”
you continue to pepper his twitching mouth with kisses, and his hands roam up your waist before pulling you back against him.
“c—chosooo,” you’d hum out, although in comes out sounding like a soft purr. you were perfect in his eyes, even your smell. it was simply enchanting, so sweet. your perfume wafts against his noise before within seconds later the crown of his cock meets that particular spot. “do you— do you feel it too?”
“i feel it baby, ‘m gonna cum i— i think,” and he sounds unsure, his voice was so shaky and he holds you right into his arms. his warm embrace, choso’s breathing patterns became quaky, it was so cute. how his naturally low voice pitched, a fiery pools into the lower depths of your abdomen as you grind against him at a much more fast tempo.
choso’s jaw then abruptly tightens once his dick ends up slipping out of your cunt — he pouts, his tip now smearing against your cunt before he freezes and before he realizes, he’s already cumming, hard. “o-oh shit.”
even his swears were cute, choso grunts the moment his now flaccid dick sprays the entrance of your pussy with stringy ropes of his cum. velvety ropes, he’s feeling a spring coil tightly and you ended up following shortly afterward.
you moan, grinding against his now soft shaft that was just laid underneath, not even plugging you inside anymore—you shut his moans up with a simple candied kiss. choso trembles, parting his lips before gripping your ass. each moan that escapes from his lips sounded even more pretty and melodic.
once choso breaks away, a pretty sheeny cobweb of spit departs from his lips and yours. you watch as he brings a hand between your thighs.
“s-so much,” he pants, smearing the tips of his fingers with his own seed. he liked admiring his own mess he always created inside of you. it was lewd, yet he wanted more. more of you.
“let’s .. let’s do it again. please? i— i wanna be dirty for you, please. this time i… i wanna see how a human squirts, princess. teach me?”
#★vegasbaby.#gojo smut#geto smut#toji smut#sukuna smut#choso smut#gojo x reader#geto x reader#toji x reader#sukuna x reader#choso x reader#gojo satoru x reader#toji fushiguro x reader#geto suguru x reader#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujustsu kaisen x reader#anime smut#female reader#cw sex mention
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for your consideration:
a reader who’s genuinely more powerful than Alastor is. maybe they’re royalty or another overlord or maybe they simply just have a more commanding presence than him, but in any way, he hates it. he goes out of his way to try to one-up them (much like how he did with Lucifer), but the reader never falters, ever-calm and ever-in control. it infuriates Alastor to no end— not only because of the simple fact that he isn’t the strongest person in the room anymore, but also because the reader never treats him like he’s lesser than them. they treat him like an equal, and it makes him even angrier.
when they fuck for the first time, it’s a last-ditch attempt for Alastor to regain control— and it fails, because even though Alastor is on top with his nails digging into the reader’s skin, doing his very best to cause the pain he knows he can cause, the reader still just stares up at him, taking it like they always do. no tears fall from their eyes, no pleads fall from their lips. Alastor is dissatisfied— very much so. so they do it again. and again. and again, until it’s something of a game between them. until one day, the reader’s composure finally shatters.
they’ve had enough of Alastor’s attitude and disrespect, and they tell him as much. they pin him down, snarling about his god complex and his twisted sadism and how long they’ve been waiting to put him in his place. and Alastor finds that no matter how much he struggles, he can’t get that control that had been so rudely snatched from him back. but the thing is— a part of him likes it. really, really likes it— that loss of power that should be his and his alone, being held just out of his petulant reach. it brings him a sick feeling that he’s never felt before and can’t get enough of.
that part grows and grows until he’s the one crying and begging and squirming weakly underneath the reader, both his smile and his mind threatening to break as the reader fucks him relentlessly. no matter how many times either of them cums, the reader doesn’t stop, not until Alastor is screaming his apologies, over and over and over again. he hates it. he loves it.
when it’s all over, and when the reader has settled, Alastor makes them promise that they will never speak of this again. without a hint of smugness, the reader agrees— but maybe the next time Alastor is acting up, the reader will only have to give him a look. and he will know.
I know this wasn’t a prompt necessarily but don’t think you can come into MY HOUSE and lay a feast in front of me and not expect I’d dig in 👏 face 👏 first 👏 so here’s me just kinda riffing off your DELICIOUSLY WRITTEN MESSAGE. NO TIME TO EDIT A CUTE REPLY IMAGE
Wrapped around Your Finger (Ace Alastor bottoms for a GN!Seraphim Reader short smut)
Warnings/Promises: 🗣️ ALASTOR GETS FINGERED, Gender Neutral Reader x Alastor smut, hate fucking, bondage, initial dubcon, Ace Alastor, scratching, kinda degradation kink, Angel Reader, Reader is a good friend, Protect Angel Dust at all costs
minors dni
⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺
When Lucifer introduced a defected Seraphim to the hotel, Alastor’s smile dropped. You had feet yet to him you seemed to glide through the hotel halls effortlessly. You were impeccably dressed, ever polite, well mannered, clean. It was driving him mad. Yes, Alastor knew the importance of being well groomed. He exalted manners and gentility. He disliked grime and thought a lack of personal hygiene was an actual sin. But the sight of you, every fucking day with that ever present soft smile on your lips? Your gaze, always gentle as you listened to sinners explain their dreams of redemption. Nails on a chalkboard. Every room you were in, all eyes turned to you. It was if the air itself was pulled into your charms.
Every one in the hotel either feared Alastor or, at least, failed to hide their annoyance when He’d sneak up on them or touch them without warning. Of course, not you. Alastor shocked himself with his antics in attempt to make you react to him at all. Charlie would pull him aside weekly, asking what the actual fuck? “Why did you say that? They know they aren’t from here, we all know that, but telling them they are most unnatural creature to ever exist in Hell? And I don’t think it was an accident you knocked their drink over. Al, you are being a bully.” Yes, and he was sorry. Sorry he was so ineffective. Not even a fucking knitted brow so much as flashed at him when he spilled your drink down your chest. You smiled, you had the audacity to smile at him and say, “Whoops. Your monocle isn’t prescription, huh?” He only had one option left to push you beneath him—-rip you to pieces. Any thing to get you to look at him differently than all the other weak souls mulling about in hell.
Alastor had seen you fight, when an overlord came to the hotel to taste seraphim blood, all of the Pride Ring saw your power. Arms out stretched, a glow came from your palms, yellow and bright. With the speed of someone enjoying a breakfast on the patio on a Sunday in hell, you knelt down and pressed your palms into the ground. A flash of light and power rung out from you and blinded everyone watching, but Alastor could see you as he melted into the deepest shadows your light created. White and gold glowing shards erupted from the dirt, fracturing the grounds of the hotel lawn as they formed a jagged but intelligent line straight for the demon. The overlord barely recovered from the blinding effect of your power before a glass-like piece shot from the ground and straight through his chest. It was over in seconds, and you had never dropped your soft grin.
He was prideful, but not stupid. A test, a little experiment first. When you watched sweetly from the sidelines and Charlie directed yet another meaningless activity, Alastor stood opposite you. Your eyes flitted from person to person, your smile small but genuine. Were you glowing? He had had enough. He reached his shadow appendages out and wrapped one around your ankle, as it gripped and prepared to drag you to the floor in what he hoped would be an embarrassing display, nothing happened. As the tentacle touched you, it dissipated. Your light entirely erasing the shadow.
He felt his mind breaking. Every night he paced, feeling your overwhelming presence in the hotel even at such a distance. He decided to try the one thing he’d never tried. Atleast, not since coming to hell. You were always so accommodating, maybe to a fault? He found you in kitchen, alone, making yourself some sickeningly sweet drink. Your body froze when Alastor pressed against you from behind. But, you didn’t make a sound. “Apologies, I don’t think I can suffer any longer.” He ground his hips into your ass, “I never do this, a gentleman through and through. But you see, as a deer demon, sometimes there are periods of—- unbearable discomfort. I can’t focus on redemption like this.”
Alastor was shocked when you swiveled around, eyes closed from your smile, and said, “I came here to help. What can I do?”
He couldn’t understand it. Bent over the counter in the common area, his nails cutting lines down your sides that healed with a frustrating speed, you just sighed into him. Little moans, soft exhales. He slammed your hips against him, the sound ringing through the kitchen. But still, your eyes were closed but not clenched. Your sounds small and even. The only thing keeping him hard was your hand, reached back and digging nails into his thighs. The tiniest hint of your true feelings. He’d bury his mind where your hand tore his skin and find release. Happy to see you at least a little less perfectly assembled after.
Alastor would find you at the most inconvenient times, in the most public settings, and find some excuse to need to fuck you. At one point a sinner even walked in on you two, and to Alastor’s palpable dismay, you apologized to the sinner for blocking the ice machine.
Your resolve finally snapped, however, when Alastor stepped past a line he didn’t know you had. Alastor had you, uncharacteristically, in your bed. He always spoke during sex but now, now it was genuinely grating you. “You’re such a whore, coming to Hell just to eat demon cock. If you drowned in cum you’d probably respawn as an even bigger slut than Angel Dust.” You sat up, one hand on his chest and the other under his armpit, and flipped him onto his back. Alastor’s arm moved to push back, but he found both wrists held down to the bed with a signature glow.
“If you knew Angel half as well as you pretended, you’d know how fucking stupid you sound.” Your hands gathered his cum from earlier that evening, slowly dripping out of you with the sudden change in position. “He’s the whore? Who stalks this hotel, hungry for any ounce of attention? A petulant child willing to embarrass others just so teacher notices them?” Your hand began to pump his cock. Alastor thrashed, he hated people handling his dick, but that was overshadowed by his disgust of having his semen spread over his skin. The sensation made his skin crawl and he would have gone soft but when he met your gaze he only grew harder in your fist. Your eyes were alight, figuratively and literally. The rage on your face made his smile drop entirely. You looked like you hated him. “If he is a whore, then you are Mary Magdalene. I’ll wash your feet for you, sinner.” You used your knees to spread open his untethered legs.
“I know you, Alastor,” the fingers of your other hand slicked through the lathered cum dripping down his ass and began to massage at his hole. “Your greatest sin wasn’t murder. It was pride. Never could let anyone see the famous Radio star with even a hair out of place. You’d drop your morals for even a taste of an improved social image. Even in death, you abuse and hound others who dare to make you feel less than how you demand you look from the outside.” He wanted to say anything, argue, roar, but his jaw was locked in place. Your eyes never left his, and soon his vision was darkening around your luminescent stare. A finger slipped into him, slowly but with resistance.
“Tell me to stop.” Your hand slowed to let his muscles relax around your digit before picking up speed again, curving your palm over his head with every pull upward, “Tell me to stop and I will. I’ll go right back to who I always am, and always will be. I’ll smile at you every morning and move out of your way with a nod in the halls. Say ‘stop’.” Your words were threats, not idle or hollow and it made Alastor’s thighs twitch. Go back? Return to looking at him like you truly wanted the best for him despite how dirty his hands were? Soft eyes threatening to make him melt into a lesser, weaker man?
You were in him to the knuckle, finger prodding and twirling.
His eyes were wide but focused on you. Alastor thought his soul would evaporate, your face a sneer he’d never been so lucky to even imagine before now. He could feel you around him, in him.
A tiny, halted, “S-,” was forced through his teeth.
Stop?
Slower?
He shook his head, eyes fluttering closed.
“God, you’re pathetic. What about a sorry? Can you manage a single apology for your comments tonight? I’ll let you roll me back into the mattress, for a sincere ‘sorry’.”
Alastor's knees hitched, his head fell back, and he came over your knuckles with a pained groan. But you didn’t stop. You’d get your reply, eventually.
Alastor gave a threat of his own when you finally got your apology, half screamed through his third orgasm, and let him flee your bed. You nodded and agreed, yes yes, this never happened blah blah yet another example of your enormous pride.
After that night, any time Alastor wanted to yank on Husk’s chains, or double speak someone into a deal, he’d pause and look around. Expecting your two golden lit eyes to be staring, ready to flip him onto his back and drag several more apologies from him.
༻Masterlist༺
#alastor x gn!reader#alastor hazbin hotel#alastor x reader#alastor smut#hazbin hotel smut#alastor#ace alastor#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor x you#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel fanfiction#alastor x reader smut#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel#fanfiction#x you smut#smut writer#smut writing#smut fanfiction#x you#x reader#reader fic#reader insert#reader
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Reconcile- E.M (S)
Smut!, fluff because uhm how could I not, angst! cause you guys are pent up from stress and this is basically a make up sex fic teehee, mentions of weed, brief arguing, Y’all just desperate and gross, Eddie fucks you till you cry and talks you through it like the slut he is, he cums inside of you, makes sure to fuck all that attitude away, PUSSY EATING, very graphic descriptions of passionate n nasty intercourse
You hadn’t foreseen this happening.
Sure, you and Ed’s have gotten into little disputes before. Petty, insignificant quarrels about whether or not the other person actually took out the garbage or who would pay next date night. Two years is still short to some, for you and Eddie it felt like forever and yesterday all in the same universe. Heavenly, and mundane.
But this is a different beast all together. This morning makes day two that you two have had this weird, suffocating energy between both of you. The antagonist of this situation, is undoubtedly the conversation that was had at Steve’s weekend hangout.
A few hits from a joint, a shot or two of tequila and goofy sentences being passed around between two best friends. You and Robin being the spectators, content in your own little bubble, puffing on a spliff of your own. Heavy, fluffy blankets kept you warm, gave you weight to lean on when your head began to feel like it might float away.
The Christmas lights and the hum of the deep freezer in the corner of Steve’s basement almost distracted you completely in your haze, until it didn’t. Until Chrissy Cunningham came up. Until it was an innocent giggling fit about whether or not Chrissy ever had a crush on Eddie, the oxymoron in and of itself.
“Imagine that ever happening,” Steve chuckled, lightheartedly, taking a sip of his Diet Pepsi. “can’t say I can’t see it. She wanted you for sure, dude.”
Your ears twitched. Eyes thinning into inquisitive slits. Nothing about Steve’s tone was meant to be rude, or disrespectful, but the nature of the comment itself felt awkward and uncomfortable underneath your skin.
You almost turned your attention back to the Walkman blasting David Bowie. Almost.
“I saw her the other day, she came in for an oil change. Honestly, I never would’ve even thought she wanted me,” Eddie takes another rip of his bong. “But then she asked me if I do at home visits. Said she wanted to catch up with me.”
Maybe your reptilian brain overreacted. Or, maybe it didn’t. Honestly, you don’t blame yourself completely for the way you reacted after that statement. Nothing else he said after that mattered. All you could hear was your heartbeat in your own ears. Loud, thunderous
“I told her I wouldn’t do that, obviously.”
White noise.
And not only were you intoxicated, but you were already burnt out from work and school, touch starved from not having any time with your boyfriend as of late. A period of your current reality that you know will pass as all things do in life; but it was too much. This hangout was supposed to be somewhat intimate, something for you to both do together. A simplicity that normally wouldn’t even have to be mentioned. You and Eddie exist on the same axis.
The blanket became too heavy and the smoke in the room threatened to choke you further. You all but threw the fluffy cover off of you and stormed out. You heard Robin call after you, and Eddie. A pair of voices that meshed together like the drum line in a song that is so in sync with the guitar chorus that you can barely decipher it. The steps spin, but you manage to stay upright.
Cold November air chilled your face, your neck. You too a deep breath in while marching to the van parked just a few feet away on the newly slabbed pavement of Steve’s home. His parents are at their lake house so often that Steve claims their Hawkins residence as his own.
Predictably, a heavy thump of boots followed closely behind you. The scrape of worn soles and the squeak of an old leather jacket. A billow of smoke follows him, clings onto him like jasmine and rosemary to the freshly bathed. Your back felt like the warning signs at a crossroad. He felt helpless.
“Baby, hey,” he sounded breathless, desperate and confused. He’s never seen you so upset that you’d just walk out unprompted. “stop walking god dammit, please.”
You stopped reluctantly, the tears of frustration in your waterline blurring your vision of the violet, cloudless skyline. A wide, warm palm touched your shoulder and the heat seared you even through your hoodie. You flinched away instinctively, sore in your limbs from your own concoction of emotions. When you met his eyes, they were wide. Like a deer staring down the barrel of a gun in its own home.
Your face must have been something to see. A scowl, a mirror of sadness reflected in his umber eyes. Angry. He’d never seen you look at him that way. It felt like having his intestines twisted between two cold hands.
“You didn’t tell me that happened.”
You stated it plainly, but spitefully in nature. Your voice cracked and it made a brewing tear spill over your waterline and down the plump of your cheek. He had the overwhelming urge to comfort you, but knew he couldn’t. Knew you would likely flinch away like you did five seconds ago and he didn’t think he would physically be able to bear you trying to get away from him again.
He didn’t exactly know what was making you so upset. The conversation wasn’t anything he wouldn’t have said in front of you, which is why all of it was said in front of you. Perhaps his own intoxication made it hard to fully understand the velocity of his words, what they meant and how they could’ve been interpreted from your point of view.
“I didn’t think it was important.” His thick brows scrunched and deepened the wrinkle between them. You looked like your eyes might bulge out of your head.
You nearly choked on your own spit, the words to your reply getting caught square in the middle of your throat; and so you said nothing. You stepped forward, and then past him. And he realized too late that you were walking away from him.
“I’m gonna ask Steve to take me home.”
He was too stunned to speak. To react. To stop you, to plead for you to tell him what he did wrong. Or at least how to fix it. He felt himself crumble on the inside, like his bones were made of ash.
When he got back to the trailer that night, you weren’t there. And that’s when it all really set in. That he fucked up. For the past two weeks you’ve been here with him, playing house while Wayne caught a gig further up north. He thought, he thought that when you said home, maybe you meant here. With him.
He called that night, almost ten times. You answered on the eighth.
“I’m at my apartment Ed’s, I’m fine. I don’t want to argue, or talk. I just need to be by myself right now.”
He felt paralyzed by the pang in his chest. More so, he felt angry. Genuinely angry, and not just at himself, but selfishly, at you.
“Fine, glad you’re safe.”
He nearly broke the fucking landline.
Your eyes have to adjust to the brightness of your living room. Well, your bedroom, slash living room, slash kitchen. A studio in Hawkins is relatively affordable, but they aren’t lying when they say it’s a studio. The events from yesterday scream in your head instantly, along with the pounding of your pulse. Your bed is almost unfamiliar at this point, the blankets not worn enough, the sheets the scent of fresh dryer sheets instead of you and Eddie’s shared scent.
The beeping of your answering machine pulls you back down to reality, though not one you want to participate in currently. Unfortunately, you have no other choice.
They’re all from Eddie of course, and now that you’re not high you feel those wounds from the night before coming back, sticking you in the chest, ribs, liver. Along with the pain, you feel guilty. For your less than mature reaction. Though you know you can’t blame yourself, not having ever been in that situation. You’re human and reacted as so. But he’s your Eddie.
You listen to the last message, sent twenty five minutes ago.
“I’m coming over in thirty minutes, I don’t care if you don’t want to see me. We are going to talk this out. I love you.”
You huff in frustration, though you can’t say you aren’t relieved. Relieved that he’s coming, that he’s not giving up over some quarrel about Chrissy Cunningham. You have a tendency to think the entire world is caving in around you upon one minor inconvenience. This disruption in your daily routine feels like Armageddon.
You have time to brush your teeth and rinse the remaining paste off of your mouth before your front door opens. If you didn’t recognize his footsteps so well, it might be off putting to have someone just waltz into your home.
The bathroom door is open, so he spots you immediately, slipping off his worn in boots and placing them beside the door. He takes his leather jacket off and puts it over the stool that sits at your kitchen island. It makes your face hot, still. The ease in which you two have melded into each others lives. Even if you’re angry at him.
“I don’t know what to say, Ed’s.” It’s a lie. You walk past him to the kitchen and open the fridge, hiding from his gaze as you pretend to search for something. He clears his throat and you reluctantly close the refrigerator door, staring at the floor and backing yourself against the sink.
“I just - you’ve never left. Without telling me. Or talking to me. And, fuck I-“ he’s stammering already, taking steady breaths and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t think I had to tell you about an insignificant interaction with Chrissy Cunningham.”
You scoff, although it’s more of a giggle. And he looks at you like you’ve just lost your mind. Rare, for Eddie Munson to think someone else has lost their mind.
“Well you and Steve sure seemed to enjoy talking about it. You both were pretty giddy discussing whether or not Chrissy wanted to, or, sorry -“ you’re being defensive. Rude. You can’t help it. “wants to fuck you. Why would I want to hear about that? Why would I want to hear you guys talk about whether or not you both can see you and Chrissy together? Does that not sound incredibly fucked up, Ed’s?”
So much for not talking. Now it’s spilling out like a cracked flower vase. Your chest is heaving rapidly, face and body hot with anger. Your arms are crossed across your chest, a protection against whatever it is he might say, despite the fact that you’re the one who’s being rhetorical.
He shoves his ringed fingers into his hair, scratching his scalp and pulling lightly at the roots as he closes his eyes, contemplating. Seeing things through your eyes, attempting to. He winces.
“That’s not what we were trying to say,” he bites his cheek. “I mean I know it doesn’t matter what we were trying to say, the conversation shouldn’t have happened, but I can’t take it back. For fucks sake.”
He’s murmuring to himself, rubbing his rough palms over his tired face. He’s wearing one of your favorite tee shirts of his to steal. Iron Maiden. The sleeves are short enough to reveal the splattering of ink that crawls up his biceps. When his muscles move underneath his skin, the ink moves with them. It’s captured your attention suddenly, and now you’re raking your eyes over his entire figure.
Familiar black sweats cling onto his lower half. They fit perfectly on his lithe waist, loose on the rest. Except for his ass. He has a really cute ass. And these sweats specifically accentuate the shape before billowing down his thighs.
“Baby? You with me?”
The low timbre of his voice shakes you from your reverie. You’ve simmered off, the anger replaced with a different heat. It’s been too long since the two of you have just been together, this fight might be the most communication you’ve had in the past week due to your jobs, and school. Or the worries of the world, the overwhelming need to sleep when you aren’t working, to work when you aren’t sleeping.
You’ve forgotten about each other. Briefly, but not inevitably. Never that. You feel like you may collapse.
“I’m- yeah I’m with you.”
You let out a sigh, uncrossing your arms. You look and sound as defeated as you feel. He can’t pretend to not have noticed your silky, thin sleeping gown, but he is just a man. And your nipples are hard underneath the garment and he has never not thought you’re one of the most beautiful creatures he’s ever seen. You haven’t worn it in a while, preferring his clothes to sleep in since you’ve been staying with him. He missed seeing you like this.
He steps closer. Tentatively, afraid you might run away from him. You sense his hesitancy and a piece of your heart breaks, the piece where he lives. You meet his eyes, silently inviting him, glancing from his mouth then back up to his softening gaze. You watch his Adam’s Apple bob in his throat.
“I’m sorry.” He says, earnestly. His hands threaten to tremble when you reach out and grab them, heavy in your own. He hovers above you the closer he gets, your limbs connecting in a symbiotic way. One you feel the others skin, you can’t get away from it. Not until you’re pressed together, belly to belly, your chin tilted upward.
“You - ugh.” You can’t get words out anymore. They dissolve in your larynx and your head falls, the need to cry or scream or kiss him an overwhelming choice.
“I know baby, I know. I’m sorry.” He pats down your hair, rough thumbs caressing the softness of your cheeks. He pulls your face upwards again, staring down at you with regret, adoration, hunger.
“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have just left.”
He leans closer, till you smell the coffee on his breath and the hazelnut creamer alike. Your noses bump and rub against the other, his thick eyelashes fanning across his own cheekbones - casting a fluttery shadow.
“It’s okay now. We’re okay now.” He says it softly, just between the little space left between you two. “Let me take care of it. Please.” He closes the gap.
Some people assume it’s not supposed to feel as good as it does, kissing someone who’s lips you’ve mapped out like an atlas. That couldn’t be further from the truth, because kissing Eddie feels like being consumed.
And not just metaphorically, because it’s evident in the nips to your bottom lip, the sucking of your tongue whenever he feels it lick his teeth; that your small period of separation, and longer period of not having indulged each other, has weighed heavily on him as well. He’s starving.
You’re overtaken within seconds by the veracity of his mouth, your fingers taking purchase in the curls at his crown. Smacks and kisses and wet noises fill the small space, and the center of your stomach swells with a simmering heat. A reminder of how neglectful you both have been. Your nipples harden against him, as his dick twitches between his legs.
You feel nervous. Tentative. Excited.
His hands implore you like a new discovery, grasping at your back, and then down the sensitive slopes of your sides and over the plushness of your hips. Through the silky nightgown the sensation is riveting, enough to drive a person insane. You arch against him, and a whimper escapes your mouth into his throat.
“Mmm, mhm.” He groans.
“Eddie,” it’s a cry, wanton sound that makes him rut himself against you instinctively. Anything to relieve you. Anything to relieve himself. “baby.”
He smiles against your mouth, pecking it a few times before departing only for a second to see your kiss bitten lips, his and your spit coating your mouth. Your blown out pupils. He mirrors your appearance, like a wild creature.
“Never again,” his index fingers knuckle strokes the inside of your thigh, and you shudder, holding onto his broad shoulders for an anchor. You separate your legs without thinking. “we will never go through this again. I’m gonna make sure of it.”
Three knuckles stroke your pubic mound, then down your covered slit where dampness threatens to leak. Your fingernails grip his shirt, eyebrows furrowed and lips parted in anticipation. He’s so warm, so palpable. You want him to bury himself inside of you.
He’s in front of you, and then he’s not. You blink, and hair tickles your thighs like you’re frolicking through an overgrown field. Strong, rough hands lift the delicate silk of your nightie until it’s being bunched between ringed fingers above your navel. He’s on his knees, devout for you.
You gasp when his tongue broadens against your center. Your panties are just enough barrier to make you wanna cry out in desperation, while also offering enough sensation to not dare stop for even a moment to pull them off. You’re at his mercy. Or is he at yours? Neither of you know anymore, and it’s not important.
Not when he gets a taste of you. Not when he peers up at you between lust sodden lashes and sees you looking down at him like you’re about to crumble. Your knees shake and he bunches the nightie in one fist instead of two, placing his free hand on the back of your thighs to steady you while he soaks your underwear with the spit from his tongue.
The shape of your slit and the plump lips around it begins to show its phantom form through the material from the soaking. He sucks, prods with the tip of his wet muscle.
“Ed’s, fuck.” Your voice is so weak. His cock weeps in his sweats, dribbling with copious amounts of precum. It’s torturous to not touch himself but he’s too focused on watching you, pleasing you. You hums against your mound, mocking you.
He pulls the elastic to the side, not patient enough to take them off all the way. You get to see his face for a split second, cherry red cheeks and a messy halo of hair and stubble on his chin. And then, you feel it.
His nose keeps your lips separated, his tongue already splayed against the soft, sensitive flesh between them. You’re slick and sticky and coating the lower half of his face, though you have trouble grasping onto the helms of reality when he’s licking your pussy like this. He shakes his head from side to side, tongue still flat until he’s spreading your thighs farther, so that he can lick your honey from the source.
“Hold it.” He mumbles, struggling to hand the falling material of your night gown to your shaking hands, though you get the memo when it threatens to cover his head completely. You use one hand to hold it, and the other to tug at his hair.
You can barely hear anything another than the sloppy wetness of his mouth working on you, and the sound of your own heartbeat, but you’re sure you’re whining. You can feel the rawness of your throat as you let your head fall back and cry to the ceiling, feeling the need to tear up.
You grip the roots of his locks, rocking against his mouth like you’ve got no other choice. He hums, encouraged by every squeak and moan that comes out of you, by every drip of your cunt and tensing of your muscles.
He doesn’t care that your thighs are squeezing around his head, or that you can barely hold yourself together. You’re using his face like second nature and his cock weeps in his pants. He feels himself throbbing in tandem with the pulsing of your hole around his tongue.
Then he pulls your lips apart with his thumbs, revealing the pink bud that resides underneath your hood, suckling and coating it with enough spit to drip onto the floor.
“Oh god,” you pant “m’gonna cum. Please don’t stop please please please.” 
You’re throttled, and not just by the pleasure but by how fast you’re descending into your own madness. You can’t hear much of anything, see anything but the back of your own eyelids - and your boyfriend is using half of his strength to keep your body upwards as you threaten to wilt.
He doesn’t stop, per your request but to your ultimate demise. You feel yourself leaking as your clit throbs from the aftershocks of a powerful - much needed and thoroughly missed, orgasm.
You think you might pass out, but he feels the trembling in your body and despite his need to keep going until you’re completely done for, all but comatose- he stops.
Through your clouded and hazy senses, your hands tug at his face, his head, his neck. Lazily you attempt to pull him up from his knees, and it’s not your strength that does it, it’s his own. But he lets you believe you pulled him to your mouth, before he even has the chance to wipe your essence off. Not that he cares to.
Your tongues collide in a messy exploration, he’s rough and saccharine and sweet all at once. Your paw at him like you’ve never felt him before, like he didn’t just have his mouth on your most private of parts.
“I need you in me.” You slur the words between open mouthed kisses. He’s pressed so flush against you that you can feel his dick throbbing, and you’re not sure if the wetness is your own or his. Perhaps both.
You’re hungry for it. He’s still starving, and your fingers clumsily pull the waistband of his sweats down until they’re pooled at his ankles. You wrap your hand around the thick member, angrily red at the tip, veins bulging from either side. The thatch of curly hair at his base is covered by his shirt but you don’t have the energy to remove it- to do anything other than ogle at the blood rushing through him, the feel of his pulse through his manhood. He throws his head back for a split second, taking a deep breath.
You turn around, facing the sink and resting your cheek against the cool metal of the edge. You offer yourself to him like this, an invitation in the form of a leaking cunt and buckling knees. His hands, rough and wide pull this godforsaken nightgown up and over the swell of your ass, knuckles grazing the back of your thighs in the process.
You want to look at him but you’re far too flustered, ironically. It’s completely idiotic to still be embarrassed at your own need for your own boyfriend - but someone as beautiful as Eddie doesn’t come around very often. Getting to do this feels like retribution.
“You’re so pretty,” he groans, out of breath. He crudely spits on his cock, you can hear the slick sounds of his precum mixing with his saliva as he strokes himself a few times, one hand on your left hip while he guides his mauve tip to your slit.
“I’m gonna fuck all that attitude away baby.”
The stretch is jarring and unexpected, but the sounds you both make as he sticks himself passed your gummy entrance isn’t. You grip the counter, and he leans his weight over you so that he can mouth at your shoulders while he pushes himself in to the hilt- kissing your cervix before his cock moved around it.
“Yeah?” He taunts, hair tickling your back and lips smearing kisses against your nape. “You’re so goddamn wet, this is all you needed huh?”
He’s genuine within the ruggedness of his voice. Within seconds he’s pulling himself out and shoving himself back in with something fierce driving him. He’s unforgiving in his pace once he gets into a comfortable stance, kicking his sweats off of his ankles and planting his feet behind you.
It’s a symphony of sticky, wet sounds, and grunts with compositions of skin against skin in your small kitchen. It’s been so long since you’ve felt him, since he’s felt you. He’s not just fucking you from the back, he’s mounting you - panting lewdly in your ear while his hands snake themselves around your shoulders.
You cry out, nothing coherent leaving your mouth. Your poor cunt was still contracting from the orgasm he gave you with his mouth when shoved himself inside of you, and now that little spongey spot is being brutally massaged over and over again with each stroke.
“That’s - s-so - good.” Your words are staccato, followed by petulant whines. You’re thankful for his hit breath on your neck, the groans leaving him, the weight of his body behind you. He’s close while still delivering a delicious punishment - a fucking that’s meant to make you forget about anything that’s happened this past week.
“Awe baby, it feels good hmm? You - fucking hell-“
His balls tighten and he knows he’s gonna cum soon, he’s too caught up in how you’re squeezing around him, throbbing from the inside out with your admiration for him. You try to reach back and touch him, but he holds your arms in front of you, a sort of embrace and restraint all in one.
“need to cum baby, need to show you how much I love you. Need to fill you - oh baby - need to fill you all the way. That’s it - there you go there you go, I know.”
He kisses your cheek where a tear falls down, your knees beginning to tremble again in tandem with his own. He ruts and ruts and ruts, your cream coating his cock, your warmth swallowing him whole.
He pulls out, and you think you might start weeping, till he turns you around by your waist and licks the inside of your parted lips. He hiked your leg up around his lithe waist, bends his knees and maneuvers his hips forward so that he can slide back into you.
Now that he can see your face, and you can see his, you both feel cathartic.
You hang onto his shoulders, clawing at his curls and he holds your face, damp lips centimeters away from your own while your foreheads rest against each other. You look down to watch him disappear inside of you, and you marvel at it. Your juices and the sounds they make, how pretty his dick looks coated in your release and his own pre ejaculate.
“M’so fucking deep,” he’s shaking now, sweat beading down his neck. His bottom lip quivers and you begin to realize how this must feel for him as well. How badly you both needed the other. “it feels so fucking good, so good so good so good.”
He’s babbling and you pull his mouth to yours again, suckling on his tongue. With some foreign strength, you use your voice.
“Please cum, I love you Eddie. I want you to cum for me please please, I can’t take it. Cum for me cum for me cum for me I love you.”
He thinks he might cry, he’s so fucking deep when you wrap your arms around him, when your hips are connected so closely that you can’t tell where one of you begins and the other one ends - when the sweet lullaby that is your voice serenades him, begs him to let go.
“Oh god, oh fuck I’m - fuuuuck.”
He tightens, stuttering inside of you while small gasps of pleasure leave him like hiccups. You inhale the scent of his hair, feel the rise and fall of his breath from between his shoulder blades. You’re both twitching, barely standing. A mess, and certainly a sight to see.
He stays like that for a few moments, just enough for all of his cum to dribble out from the tip and into you. When he pulls out, the sound is audible and crude, and he swears to himself he will clean the mess on your kitchen floor.
You don’t know who kisses who first.
Both of you go for the others neck, cheeks, forehead. Gently, with enough love to fill an entire universe itself. It’s a juxtaposition to the way you just had each other. It’s love. Pure, unadulterated, sickeningly sweet to the melancholy.
“I’m staying here tonight,” he kisses your eyelids, then your nose, out of breath. “and I’m gonna make breakfast in the morning. We are never letting this happen again.”
You scratch his scalp.
“Which part? Cause-“ he rolls his eyes, smiling boyishly. Enough to show his dimples, flash his teeth.
“You know which part, I’ll give you whatever you want. But I’m never going this long without being around you. Not ever.”
He’s devout, sincere in a way that is irrevocable. You don’t argue, don’t wince, don’t make a face. You nod, suckling his bottom lip.
You listen.
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson smut#joseph quinn#eddie munson x you#Eddie Munson au#joseph quinn x reader#Eddie Munson Drabble#Eddie Munson imagine
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YOOO I SEE U FELLOW UNUS ANUSER🫵🫵 i fucking love ur works keep at it bestie pls feed our delusions😫😫
may i ask for, dan heng, blade and jing yuan with a sweet and kind s/o but the moment theyre (the characters) are talked to in a disrespectful way, s/o is immediately turning into a guard dog with a “i’ll tear out your guts with my hand showed down your throat”? idk i just love feral but also gentle s/o tropes so much😔
Thank you 🫵 my fellow Unus Anuser for the ask and enjoying my writings, despite me thinking half of them could be better but I’m not going to complain if ppl enjoy them regardless.
Dan Heng:
He’s taken aback by your sudden threats of violence towards a random pedestrian for intentionally bumping into him.
He was more use to Caelus rummaging through trash cans before waxing poetry about them and whenever March 7th going off on her own as it was expected of their characters.
You however? His sweetheart, his precious jewel and beloved partner? It was extremely unexpected. Dan Heng had to physically stop you from actually fulfilling your threat by holding you against him before putting a good deal of distance between you and the rude individual.
He’s not against you defending his honour, he just doesn’t want you engaging in fights with random people just because they said something about him that you didn’t like. He didn’t want you to stoop to their level and become like them, no matter how good your reasonings for doing so may be. Dan Heng just wants you to be better than them and not give them the reaction that they needed to fuel their own narratives.
That and Dan Heng knew that you could easily kick their ass but he didn’t felt like dealing with being chased by the authorities for unprovoked acts of violence. However some exceptions can be made to this but Dan Heng would much rather that you kept out of trouble, just for his sake and his sanity as he didn’t want to make breaking you out of jail a reoccurring thing.
Jing Yuan:
His interest is peaked.
Who’d knew that someone as sweet and kind as you had such a vicious side, waiting to come out.
Jing Yuan didn’t care for much what others said about him, but having you come to his defence without hesitation had him smiling with pride. His reputation precedes him wherever he went, so naturally he wasn’t going to be easily intimidated by senseless yapping of others, especially those who had not even the slightest clue of the things he’s put himself through in order to get where he was.
While Jing Yuan appreciates your need to stick up for him, he didn’t think it was necessary for you to waste your time and energy on those who lack the capacity to listen to a voice that wasn’t their own.
‘Always pick your battles wisely my dear,’ he said all the while looking at the person who insulted him dead in the eye with that half asleep expression of his, ‘for most aren’t worth fighting in.’ He finishes before gently pulling you by the waist and walking away.
Blade:
He had an inkling that there was more to you than meets the eye. However he didn’t expect someone who went out of their way to feed stray kittens and puppies, patch up his wounds despite knowing he could heal, would ever spout such detailed threats towards another person.
He didn’t give two shits about what people said about him that he hasn’t heard before, he had long grown immune to ignore the comments from those who didn’t know him nor his past. Yet he couldn’t help but revel in the look of surprise on the persons face the words left your lips, chuckling softly at the countless possible thoughts that must be running through their head in that moment.
It was always the sweetest people that everyone was the least suspicious about, it was near enough impossible to fathom that they were capable of hurting anyone.
A wolf in sheep’s clothing is what described you best in this moment as Blade watched you with new found interest. He found this side of you rather exciting and wanted nothing more than to help you hone in on this side of you and use it to your advantage; Yet he found another part of himself wanting to be the one inciting violence, as he refuses you to tread the same path he did, he wouldn’t allow it.
After all he was the weapon.
He was the one stained in the blood of others.
He was the one that inflicted pain onto others and himself and it was something he will continue to do until death was finally granted to him in whatever form that may be. Blade will refuse you from ever embracing that side of yourself if it meant sending you on a projectory much like his own.
You were his light in the dark for a reason and while it was reassuring to know that you had what it took to fight back, Blade would much rather be the one to fight instead and to be the one to keep your hands clean of blood and violence overall.
#hsr imagines#hsr imagine#hsr x reader#hsr blade x reader#hsr blade x you#honkai star rail#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail x you#Honkai star rail imagines#Honkai star rail imagine#dan heng x reader#dan heng x you#Dan heng imagine#Dan heng imagines#hsr dan heng x reader#hsr jing yuan x reader#hsr jing yuan x you#jing yuan x reader#jing yuan x you#jing yuan imagines#jing yuan imagine#blade imagines#blade imagine#blade x reader#hsr fanfic#hsr fic#hsr fluff#honkai star rail fluff
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i want this man to do gross, disrespectful, unspeakable, borderline illegal things to me
⭐ inbox | discord | ao3 ⭐
requests: temporarily closed | tag lists: open
last updated | 5/12/24
notes | i'll update this post as i continue to write. fics will be 18+ unless stated otherwise ❤️ requests closed so i can catch up on the ones already submitted - will be opening up again soon!
🍒 sticky fingers
cooper howard x reader
one-shot | 18+
“Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal.”
🍒 janey's dad
pre-war cooper howard x reader
two-shot, part 1 | 18+
“We really, uh, shouldn’t - oh fuck, you look --”
🍒 run rabbit run
cooper howard x reader
drabble, request | 18+
the drabble thing HNNNGH think about coop calling you bunny from the start bc he clocked that you were always a down for it and you not getting it until he after you fuck for the first time
🍒 in the middle of the night
cooper howard x reader
drabble, request | 18+
Cooper watching you sleep. Its a quiet night. nothing but bugs passing by. Cooper keeps watching, and his mind wanders. cut to him "borrowing" your soft and smooth hand, pulling it from under your makeshift blanket and wrapping it on his dick, jacking himself with your hand bc he's bored/trying to pass the time/stay awake
🍒 wish you'd make me cry
cooper howard x reader
drabble, request | 18+
"You’re such a needy fucking brat." :3c
🍒 dog days
pre-war cooper howard x reader
fluff, request
I was wondering if you'd write something about maybe prewar/postwar (either one) cooper where his love is a bit sick (not life threateningly so ect) and he just takes good care of them
🍒 i can taste your skin in my teeth
cooper howard x reader
drabble, wip request | 18+
drabble request thingy: "you're so wet and I haven't even touched you" and/or "aww... you're pathetic" I feel like these go so well together in a very mean(super hot) way >:)
🍒 use me
pre-war cooper howard x reader
drabble, wip request | 18+
for the drabble request "I want to use you so fucking bad" with pre bomb coop?
🍒 don't threaten me with a good time
cooper howard x reader
request , wip | 18+
how do you think our ghoul would handle having a breeding kink?
🍒 in the collision of your kiss
pre-war cooper howard x reader
one-shot, wip | 18+
"As I live and breathe, that's Cooper Howard! Why, he must've cost a fortune -- how ever did you get him to agree to attend a children's party?"
🍒 criminal tongues
cooper howard x reader
request, wip | 18+
Could I get and aggressive smut with coop like he hasn't had any in 200 something years ! Hes needy and wants it NOW
🍒 finders, keepers
cooper howard x reader
request, wip | 18+
Cooper wants people to know the reader is *his*, and she best damn well know it to. If she doesn't, he'll have to show her
🍒 god is a woman
cooper howard x reader
request, wip | 18+
If you don't mind of making cooper howard/the ghoul being submissive or treating reader like a goddess of a smut?
🍒 bury all your secrets in my skin
cooper howard x reader
request, wip | 18+
I was thinking how it would be to be the first to get him to take all his clothes off since the bombs fell. Being the first to get him to be vulnerable in this way. If you would write this I would be very grateful.
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Simon "Ghost" Riley x Soap's Sister!reader
Summary: Because Johnny found him sleeping with his sister, Simon had to live the last three months without you, but he's about to get his girl back.
warnings/notes: a little smut 18+, cursing, drinking. That's probably it. Oh, typos, im sure, as well.
words: 1830
Part 1
He drinks at the same bar. The one his team practically lived in when they were all together for an evening, but that doesn’t happen anymore, not with the entire group. Johnny stays home if he knows Simon will be attending the night out, and Simon, if informed Johnny wants to be with the team, elects to remove himself from the situation for everyone’s comfort. He figures it’s the least he can do. He’d slept with his best mate’s sister, he’d fallen in love with his best mate’s sister, and so he has taken on the consequences, no matter how infuriating and unreasonable and unfair.
“You want another, Honey?” the bartender asks. She grins. Her eyes shine with desire, as they have all night, and it might be a pleasant sight if Simon had never met you. He might’ve taken her home, fucked her like a toy until he was spent and she was happily ruined by his cock before he kicked her out. But she isn’t you. No woman is you.
“Keep ‘em comin’,” Simon replies, downing the amber liquid in his glass.
Suddenly, the stool beside him slides across the hardwood floor, now occupied by a newcomer he wouldn’t hesitate to shove to their ass if he could do so without causing a scene. What kind of rude bastard risks sitting next to someone when ten other seats are open?
“Actually lass, do me a favor and cut ‘im off. I need ‘im in his right mind.”
Simon almost chokes at Johnny's voice but he doesn’t turn his head as he slowly sets the glass back down on the counter, his fingers tightening around it. Anger, confusion, pain, anxiety. It all crashes over him in a hefty wave, because rolled into this one man is both the friend Simon has missed for months and the asshole who has forced him to be apart from the love of his life. And it’s almost too much to handle at once.
“I’ll take his drink,” Johnny tells the bartender, who has lost all hope now that the man she’s been attempting to charm is no longer lonely enough to be convinced to take her home. When she places the glass in front of him, he takes a sip. “You look like shit, Ghost.”
“What do you want?”
“We got a problem,” Johnny says, getting right to it. “A bit of a disaster, really, and I gave it my best shot, but I can’t fix it.” Simon blinks. His brows pinch. Johnny drains the remainder of the alcohol and wipes his mouth with the back of his forearm. “She’s miserable. And considerin’ the timeline, I’d wager it’s because she’s without you.”
Simon’s heart—though had fallen from his chest months ago—sinks lower into his gut.
“Look, I didn' believe it was that deep,” Johnny continues. “Figured you were jus’ messin’ around. Being stupid and disrespectful with my baby sister. But I cannot have her miserable, Ghost. It won’t do.” He looks at Simon and releases a long sigh. “She loves you. I don’ like it but she does, and you need to make it better.”
“What exactly are you askin’ of me?”
Johnny’s eyes land back on the empty glass. He plants his elbows on the counter and rubs his fingers across his forehead, kneading the wrinkles. “Just…go to her, alright?”
That snaps Simon out of his grumbly attitude. “You serious?”
“Unfortunately,” Johnny says.
Simon practically leaps out of his seat, nearly knocking the stool to the floor as he shrugs on his jacket. He’s almost at the door, but then he stops. Taking a breath, he turns back to his old friend. “Will you be able to handle this?” Simon asks. “Me and her? Because you can't ask me to let her go, Johnny. Not twice.”
Johnny takes a second, then he gives a brief nod. “I’ll adjust. Somehow. With time; lots of time.”
It isn't much reassurance, but it's enough for Simon to be on his way. He rushes out the door, jumps into his truck, and races down the road. He forgets the seatbelt. Ignores the speed limit signs. You don’t live far, and you’re worth the risk if it means getting to you faster.
He knows the elevator in your building is much too slow because he’s been in it a hundred times. He has made out with you in it; fucked you in it, slamming the emergency button so no one could interrupt on the nights you couldn’t wait to get to your bedroom. So he takes the stairs. Two at a time, up eight flights, and down the hall. With a heaving chest, he bangs on your door.
“Love, open up!” He knocks harder. Loud enough to make your neighbor pop her head into the hall to understand the ruckus.
“Oh, wonderful. You've returned,” the old woman huffs. “And just when I was starting to believe I’d never again have to endure listening to that moaning and groaning at all hours.”
“We talked ‘bout this back in June, Mrs. Brimsby. Get yourself some earplugs,” Simon retorts before calling for you again. “Baby, please, it‘s me!”
“I’ll report the two of you for the noise.”
“You probably should. You’re in for a long night.” He hears a scoff but doesn’t bother to glance in the direction it comes from.
“Still so disrespectful,” she spits before slamming the door to her apartment.
Simon has held a low level of hatred for the old bat since the morning after the first time you’d slept together. It was an early Sunday full of soft touches and kisses and tea to nurse the mild hangovers you’d both had because of a couple of drinks the night before—the drinks that allowed the two of you to finally surrender to the sexual tension. After kissing you goodbye, he’d stepped out of your apartment with a smile he hadn't donned in quite some time, only to have it wiped away from the unexpected grandma in a collared nightgown tapping her foot as she stroked the fur of the cat in her arms.
“You kept us up all night,” she had scolded. “We need our sleep.” The cat then hissed for emphasis.
Now, Simon has never been so happy to have that woman blathering in his ear. She reminds him of home, because home is with you and this is where you are. Getting yelled at shoots him into the memories of the time you spent together all those months ago. The stupidly high levels of bliss that, based on the trajectory of his life at the time, he’d assumed was more of a myth than anything. But you had made it real. You had soothed the pain. You were the patch on his wounds; the brightest spot in his life which dimmed the trauma and horrors.
He’s so lost in those thoughts that he doesn’t immediately notice when his banging fist plummets through the air.
“Si?”
At your voice, Simon’s mind instantly clears. His eyes meet yours.
“Fucking finally,” he mutters, not letting a beat go by before he’s bending at the knees, wrapping his arms around your waist, and lifting you up. Instinctually, your arms snake around his neck, your legs circle his hips, and he feels his cock begin to swell from the reminder of how natural that action is for you. How right it is that you fit together like lock and key.
Many questions are brewing in your eyes, but you don’t ask them. You kiss him instead, hard and thoroughly as he carries you into your apartment and kicks the door closed behind him. When he sits you atop your kitchen counter and settles himself between your spread legs, his hands go everywhere; under your sleep shirt, up the curves of your body to squeeze your breasts then back down to your hips. His palms slide around to your ass and jerk you closer so the center of those thin little shorts is pressed against the mound protruding from his jeans.
Buttons scatter across the tile from his impatience, unwilling to delicately undo each tiny closure of your shirt. Your fingers trickle lower on his body to the belt buckle you quickly undo and the zipper you harshly yank down. He’s about to tell you to lift your hips, but you do so without his command, shimmying out of your shorts, and Simon takes the chance to do the same, pushing his pants just below his ass. He springs free, the heavy column of flesh landing at your navel.
Leaning back, you guide his cock through the slickness of puffy lips into your tight, clenching walls. It sucks the air from his lungs. His head falls to your shoulder as you both try to breathe at a steady pace. His hands brace on the counter on either side of your body, nails digging into the granite. Home.
“Simon…baby, you have to move,” you pant. “I c-can’t take it.”
“I’ve got you,” he whispers in your ear before lifting his head and placing a quick peck on your mouth. Shifting his hips, he pulls out and then slowly eases himself back inside of you. His groan drowns out the sweet song of your moan. “I’ve got you, love.”
—
“Your neighbor still hates us, jus’ so you know,” Simon says as he slides under the sheets. Were he not so exhausted, he’d chuckle at the idea of being beside you in your bed and not immediately trying to fuck you, but after the kitchen counter, then the couch, then the living room floor, you’re both worn out and in need of a good night's sleep. “Probably more now than she did before.”
Normally, you would have found his words amusing, but you remain silent on your back, staring straight up at the ceiling. Simon raises a brow and flips onto his side. Then he sees the tear slip from the corner of your eye down to your ear.
“What're you thinkin' about, love?” he asks as he places his hand on your cheek and turns your face toward his.
“I'm scared,” you tell him. “I've missed you so much, but the second you leave, everything will go back to how it was without you. That broke me the first time, Si. How do I go through it all over again?”
His eyes pinch tight and he sighs in shame. He should have told you. It should have been the first thing out of his mouth, but then he saw you and he needed you and that was all that mattered in the moment. “Baby,” he begins, brushing the hair back from your face. “I'm not leaving you, and we are not goin’ back to that, ok?”
“But Johnny—”
“We don't need to worry about Johnny.”
Your eyes widen. “What? Why not?”
“Because, love,” Simon says, his hand finding the middle of your back and snuggling you into his chest, “Johnny sent me.”
@universitypenguin @ghostslittlegf
#simon ghost riley#simon riley smut#simon riley x reader#simon riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley fic#cod ghost#cod fic#mw2
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One nerd's musing about Chinese religion and "respect"
-I try to stay away from fandom discourse, but, much like how you can smell the stench from a dumpster fire without walking into said dumpster fire, I've noticed something that seemed to come up a lot in western JTTW + adjacent fandoms: "respect Chinese religion".
-Usually as a reason for why you shouldn't ship a character, because of fucking course it's shipping discourse too.
-And my first reaction is "Man, you are taking Chinese religion too darn seriously, more than people who are born and raised in China."
-My second reaction is "I mean, most of us are atheist/agnostic by default anyways, with a good number of what I'd call 'atheist/agnostics with superstitions': people who said they were not religious, yet believed in Fengshui or divinations and burnt incense at temples for good luck."
-My third reaction: "But why do I get the feeling that when you mention 'Respect', you are thinking about something completely different?"
-Then I reread an essay from Anthony C. Yu, "Religion and Literature in China: The "Obscure Way" of Journey to the West", and the metaphorical lightbulb just lit up over my head.
(Everything below applies more to Daoism + associated folk religions, but by the time most classic Chinese vernacular novels were written, the blending of the three religions had become well and truly mainstream.)
(The conception of gods differs from dynasty to dynasty. What I'm describing here is mostly based on Ming and Qing ones; if you went back to Han or pre-Qin times, most of these would not apply.)
(I am one of the "atheist/agnostic by default" people. I just have an interest in this kind of stuff. I am also just one Chinese person, and an actual Daoist/Buddhist/Religion Studies researcher would probably have a lot more valuable information and perspective to offer when it comes to contemporary practices and worship. Like any people on the internet: take my words with a grain of salt.)
-Even in the past, when society was far less secularized, Chinese gods are not omniscient, perfect beings whose worship is a solemn, humorless affair. Some's worship are Serious Business, but that has more to do with the sort of gods they are and the patronage they enjoy, not godhood in and of itself.
-And even the ones that you are supposed to "treat seriously" are still very human. To use an analogy I've used plenty of times before: you respect and fear them in the same way you'd respect and fear an emperor's official, or the emperor himself, because if you don't, you are not gonna like the consequences.
-However, unlike Jesus, the emperor & his officials were capable of being temperamental, flawed, or an outright asshole, divine or not. Ideally, they wouldn't be, and if you were one of the "serious" believers——people who actually got an official permit, became ordained clergy, and went to live in a temple, you were unlikely to think of your gods in that manner.
-But it wasn't a complete, utter impossibility. The lower you go in the pantheon, the closer you get to popular religion, the less "serious" the gods and their worship become. By that, I mean general attitude, not sincerity of faith. You still shouldn't be rude to them, but, well, they are more likely to take a joke in stride, or participate in the "vulgar" pleasures of commoners because they weren't as bound to Confucian moral standards or religious disciplines.
-To stretch the same analogy further: you should still respect your village head, they could still give your ass a good spanking for being a disrespectful brat, but you were not obligated to get on your knees and kowtow to them like you would do in front of a provincial magistrate, the emperor's minister, or the emperor himself, nor did they have the power to chop your head off just because you were rude.
-On the other hand, the emperor would never visit a random peasant just to help them fix their broken plow or treat them to a nice meal, but your village head could, and your relationship would probably be warmer and a lot more personal as a result.
-Your respect for them was more likely to stem from the things they actually did for you and the village as a whole, instead of something owed to this distant, powerful authority you might never get to see in your lifetime, but could change its course with a single stroke of a brush.
-Now exchange "village head" for your run-of-the-mill Tudis and Chenghuangs and friendly neighborhood spirits (because yes, people worshipped yaoguais for the exact same reasons), emperor + his officials for the Celestial Bureaucracy, and you'd have a basic idea of how Chinese religions worked on the ground level.
-This is far from absolute: maybe your village head was a spiteful old bastard who loved bullying his juniors, maybe your regional magistrate was an honest, upright man who could enjoy a good drink and a good laugh, maybe the emperor was a lenient one and wouldn't chop your head off for petty offenses. But their general degree of power over you and the closeness of your relationships still apply.
-Complicating the matter further, some folk gods (like Wutong) were worshipped not because they brought blessings, but because they were the divine equivalent of gangsters running a protection racket: you basically bribed them with offerings so they'd leave you alone and not wreck your shit. Famous people who died violently and were posthumously deified often fell into this category——shockingly enough, Guan Yu used to be one such god!
-Yeah, kinda like how your average guy could become an official through the imperial examinations, so could humans become gods through posthumous worship, or cultivate themselves into immortals and Enlightened beings.
-Some immortals aren't qualified for, or interested in a position in the Celestial Bureaucracy——they are the equivalent of your hermits, your cloistered Daoist priests, your common literati who kept trying and failing the exams. But some do get a job offer and gladly take it.
-Anyways, back to my original point: that's why it's so absurd when people pull the "Respect Chinese Religion1!!1!" card and immediately follow up with "Would you do X to Jesus?"
-Um, there are a lot of things you can do with Chinese gods that I'm pretty sure you can't do with Jesus. Like worshipping him side by side with Buddha and Confucius (Lao Tzu). Or inviting him to possess you and drink copious amount of alcohol (Tang-ki mediums in SEA). Or genderbend him into a woman over the course of several centuries because folks just like that version of Jesus better (Guan Yin/Avalokitesvara).
-But most importantly, Chinese religions are kinda a "free market" where you could pick and choose between gods, based on their vicinity to you and how efficient they were at answering prayers. You respect them because they'll help you out, you aren't an asshole and know your manners, and pissing them off is a bad idea in general, not because they are some omnipotent, perfect beings who demand exclusive and total reverence.
-A lot of the worship was also, well, very "practical" and almost transactional in nature: leave offerings to Great Immortal Hu, and he doesn't steal your imperial seal while you aren't looking. Perform the rites right and meditate on a Thunder General's visage, and you can temporarily channel said deity's power. Get this talisman for your kids at Bixia Yuanjun's temple, and they'll be protected from smallpox.
-"Faith alone" or "Scripture alone" is seldom the reason people worship popular deities. Even the obsession with afterlife wasn't about the eternal destination of your soul, and more about reducing the potential duration of the prison sentence for you and your loved ones so you can move on faster and reincarnate into a better life.
-Also, there isn't a single "canon" of scriptures. Many popular gods don't show up in Daoist literature until much later. Daoist scriptures often came up with their own gigantic pantheons, full of gods no one had heard of prior to said book, or enjoyed no worship in temples whatsoever.
-In the same way famous dead people could become gods via worship, famous fictional characters could, too, become gods of folk religion——FSYY's pantheon was very influential on popular worship, but that doesn't mean you should take the novels as actual scriptures.
-Like, God-Demon novels are to orthodox Daoism/Buddhism what the Divine Comedy is to medieval Christian doctrines, except no priests had actually built a Church of Saint Beatrice, while Daoists did put FSYY characters into their temples. By their very nature, the worship that stemmed from these books is not on the same level of "seriousness" as, say, the Tiantai school of Buddhism and their veneration of the Lotus Sutra.
-At the risk of being guilty of the same insertion of Abrahamic religion where it doesn't belong: You don't cite Dante's Inferno in a theological debate, nor would any self-respecting pastor preach it to churchgoers on a Sunday.
-Similarly, you don't use JTTW or FSYY as your sole evidence for why something is "disrespectful to Chinese religion/tradition" when many practitioners of said religions won't treat them as anything more than fantasy novels.
-In fact, let's use Tripitaka as an example. The historical Xuanzang was an extraordinarily talented, faithful, and determined monk. In JTTW, he was a caricature of a Confucian scholar in a Buddhist kasaya and served the same narrative function as Princess Peach in a Mario game.
-Does the presence of satire alone make JTTW anti-Buddhist, or its religious allegories less poignant? I'd say no. Should you take it as seriously as actual Buddhist sutras, when the book didn't even take itself 100% seriously? Also no.
-To expand further on the idea of "seriousness": even outside of vernacular novels, practitioners are not beholden to a universal set of strict religious laws and taboos.
-Both Daoism and Buddhism had what we called "cloistered" and "non-cloistered" adherents; only the former needed to follow their religious laws and (usually) took a vow of celibacy.
-Certain paths of Daoist cultivation allow for alcohol and sexual activities (thanks @ruibaozha for the info), and some immortals, like Lv Dongbin, had a well-established "playboy" reputation in folklore.
-Though it was rarer for Buddhism and very misunderstood, esoteric variants of it did utilize sexual imageries and sex. And, again, most of the above would not apply if you weren't among the cloistered and ordained clergy.
-Furthermore, not even the worship of gods is mandatory! You could just be a Daoist who was really into internal alchemy, cultivating your body and mind in order to prolong your lifespan and, ideally, attain immortality.
-This idea of "respect" as…for a lack of better words, No Fun & R18 Stuff Allowed, you must treat all divinity with fearful reverence and put yourself completely at their mercy, is NOT the norm in Chinese religious traditions.
-There are different degrees and types of respect, and not every god is supposed to be treated like the Supreme Heavenly Emperor himself during an imperial ceremony; the gods are capable of cracking a joke, and so are we!
TL;DR: Religions are complicated, and you aren't respecting Chinese religions by acting like a stereotypical Puritan over popular Chinese deities and their fictional portrayals.
#chinese religion#chinese mythology#chinese folklore#fandom discourse#journey to the west#xiyouji#investiture of the gods#fengshen yanyi
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The Spaniard's Wife (Carlos Sainz x wife!reader)
Inspired by @charles-eclair16 's fic
Carlos Sainz had a secret for the past 9 years, but when he forgot to take off the one thing that can reveal everything, everyone has questions
or
in which Carlos let's everyone know that the rumors, in fact, are true
masterlist
N.B: didn't turn out how I wanted but I've been rewriting it multiple times and I think this is the best option, hope you like it...WARNINGS: swear words a lot, not proof read, spelling mistakes and really bad photoshop tbh, if I missed anything please let me know!
Faceclaim: Emeraude Toubia
Liked by Charles_leclerc, danielricciardo, landonorris and 910,583 others
Carlossainz55: my wife and I have been friends for 20 years, we have been lovers for 13 of those years, engaged for 2 and married for 9. I have never been sure of much, but I am sure that I love her with my entire heart, I will always love her. I have known yn since before I could even dream of being an f1 driver, what happened in that one interview was disrespectful and just disgusting. No one has any right to speak any ill word of my wife, you don't know her and you never will, as long as she doesn't want you to. I will do everything for her, for her happiness, her comfort and for her ease of mind.
landonorris: tell yn I miss her!
Carlossainz55: leave her alone
landonorris: I'll tell her that you're rude to me
Carlossainz55: she's my wife!
landonorris: yeah yeah, you never let us forget it
username: yn been here since day 0 apparently, can't fight her now
username: YES!! CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS!
username: I want dts to make a reincarnation of their love story
username: we need a spinoff
username: yes! It'd be so cute
username: I can't imagine 16 year old carlos realising he is in love with his friend
username: she is every man's wet dream
-this comment has been removed-
username: she looks so pretty wtf
username: she's looks like a doll
username: wish i looked like that at 20 years old
username: her dress is phenomenal
username: this screams money
username: 2 different cars for a wedding
username: the third slide, holy shit
username: I wouldn't be surprised if the last 2 pictures are carlos' or her house, like holy fuck
username: both scream rich
username: mum used to say rich people look it and I never gave it much thought until I saw carlos sainz and now his wife
username: did y'all see the picture that one twitter user took? Their outfits looked so fucking good
username: YES! I SAW IT! I could never afford a thread on either outfit!
username: did you guys see her hair! It looks so thick and healthy
username: fr!
username: I want a wedding like that!
username: I want a husband like that!
username: I want a wife like that!
username: I love how he is not in one single picture 💀😂
Liked by danielricciardo, landonorris, Pierregasly and 1,209,316 others
Carlossainz55: 10 years since i was able to call you wife, and I will never get tired of letting everyone know that. I am in love with you, forever and always.
Charles_leclerc: simp
Carlossainz55: I don't know what that means
landonorris: ikr, it's laughable man @.Charles_leclerc
Charles_leclerc: don't pretend like you're not the same with your girl @.landonorris
username: damn charles really coming for everyone's neck today
username: bet charles is the biggest simp of them
username: he really making us feel lonely as hell huh
username: 10 fucking years, Holy shit!
username: no cause if I had yn by my side I too would be in fucking love
username: don't embarrass yourself, everyone knows you're in love without her by your side
username: I didn't ask to be attacked like that wtf
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 social media au#f1 instagram au#f1 smau#f1#carlos sainz social media au#carlos sainz smau#carlos sainz instagram edit#carlos sainz x reader#carlos sainz twitter au#carlos sainz x yn#carlos sainz x you#carlos sainz x female reader#carlos sainz x y/n#carlos sainz#carlos sainz wife#carlos sainz x wife! reader#carlos sainz jr
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Hi! Can I request a Clarissa × Fem!reader, where reader is spending a lot of time talking to someone from Athena's cabin and she gets jealous. you can decide what cabin reader is in :)
Jealous jealous girl
Clarisse la rue x fem!reader (apollo's kid)
Summary: when the girl she likes is being friendly to someone, Clarisse might see red.
Warnings: no major fights actually, fluff (a bit) kissing (yes today no clickbait) medíocre writting and im sorry.
(I didn't review it, don't sue me, English isn't my native language, that's probably why it's mediocre, love ya
"Have you actually read that book? Oh my gods really? I felt like i was the only one who knew it"
Clarisse watched with red eyes as (Y/n) got excited and laughed togheter with some kid from Athena's cabin.
They werent exactly...togheter yet, but they WERE something, everyone was sure of that.
Clarisse mind couldnt comprehend then, how even though EVERYONE knew they had something, that particular girl would not back off of her.
(Y/n) laughed togheter with the girl at some book reference she had made, and the final straw for Clarisse was when the girl had the courage to touch her girl's knee.
Her sunshine?
The disrespect, was she not seeing Clarrise looking at them? Like 10 steps behind?
The.disrespect.
Oh that will end right now.
Walking over to the girls with a fake smile who people would perceive of normal happiness, however, if you did knew her, her eyes had a hint of red rage in them.
"Love? Would you come with me for a second yes?"
She took (Y/n) by the hands but before she could even get up the Athena kid made herself seen.
"Excuse me? Cant you see we're talking? So rude."
"Oh yes, excuse you really, i dont think a need a cue to talk to my girlfriend, now shut up before I make you eat that book for dinner."
Not waiting for any more words Clarisse took reader by the hand again.
"Clarisse that was not nice, she was my friend- dont even start to speak right now, we'll talk in my cabin, it must be empity right now, we dont need the camp seeing something they dont need"
Letting (Y/n) guide her, still holding her hand, Clarisse had a confused look on her face.
"But we are not going to fight, not today"
"Says who?"
They got inside the cabin and bingo, empity empity, all the Apollo kids must be doing its activities, or getting ready for dinner, as always.
"Me, Love. We wont fight, we'll talk."
Clarisse sat down at the bed she knew it was (y/n)'s waiting for her to do the same.
Choosing to stand, she had a blank look on her face.
"You said we would talk, talk to me, why be mean to my friend clari?"
"Because im jealous. Im not made of steel, love, i cant see a girl from a rival cabin flirting with my sunshine and go around skipping like a kid, you know me"
"We were not flirting clari, she is my friend!"
"YOU were not flirting, she wants to be more than that"
Clarisse corrected
"And you have a right to do something about it since when? Everytime you talk about me to your friends im a friend too, but suddently when its convenient i turn into your girlfriend? Oh please"
Clarisse looked at her, and extended her hands to grab (y/n) hands, when they finally touched Clarisse got (y/n) to get closer and closer to her, now she was standing in between Clarisse's legs and had to look down to see her.
"I never said i was right love, im sorry for hurting you, i swear.....i was insecure about that, im so sorry really..."
"Clari you dont needed to-"
"Date me"
Clarisse interrupted her mid speech.
"What?"
"Date me, let me introduce you to everyone as my girlfriend, i wont make you hurt anymore, date me....-"
Please
That was the word missing, would it make clarisse apear as desperate if she used it?
Fuck it, she was inside the Apollo cabin, that gave her enough poetic justice to be as luvestruck as she could
She found herself resting her hands on (y/n) hips, looking up to her with heart eyes.
"Please... date me"
.
.
.
"Say something, please"
Whoever first said that acts spoke words was very much right, because the kiss Clarisse received was nothing short of a love letter.
Clarisse felt hands on her cheek and neck, caressing her.
The kiss was slow and carefull at first, like the first time they kissed, so very sweet, until it wasn't.
When the kiss deepened, Clarisse's hands sunk more onto (y/n) hips, and then started to pull her down, to sit on her lap.
It was the very first time both felt like this, the absolute need to just become a fusion, hug so tightly a loved one that they would just morph into one.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you"
Clarisse said, breathing in her girlfriend's neck when they separated to breath.
When (y/n) was going to speak, she felt a small bite on her lower neck.
"Clarisse- ah"
"Sorry.."
Clarissed giggled before she went back kissing her mouth, when did she became one of the girls that giggled?
They heard the cabin door opening and then a
"Oh fuck sorry i just...ill come back later, and you (y/n) will tell me everything about later or ill change my name, bye lovebirds"
They looked at each other resisting the urge to laugh.
"Well i guess we wont need to introduce ourselfs to anybody, by tomorrow morning they'll know"
#fanfic#lesbian#clarisse pjo#pjo tv show#pjo series#clarisse la rue x reader#clarisse x reader#clarisse la rue
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I think this is it.
Aight, thank you. Here's my request: So Pro-hero Bakugou has a husband (reader) and a son who didn't inherit his quirk. Instead, he got m readers' "weak" healing quirk. The kid hates/dislikes reader for getting his "useless" quirk instead. Meek reader doesn't want tell Bakugou that the son has a crappy teen ego, but Bakugou comes home early to see son berating reader. And Bakugo just scolds the son and explains why the the healing quirk is useful and how reader is amazing. Its a bit angsty, but can we have some fluff comfort at the end pls? Thank you again. :)
I got this
🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐
One thing no one in U.A expected was for Bakugo to get with Recovery girls grandson, the Omegas quirk being "healing aura" the ability to create a healing must up to 12 feet.
The two teens didn't get along initially, Bakugo crass and rude and (name) very much no nonsense and stubborn, the two constantly butted heads during their stay at U.A.
It was a surprise towards the end of their high school career for the two to move in together with an upcoming engagement "when did they even start dating?" Some would ask only to realize those arguments and comments were actually the two flirting.
(Name) ended up much like his grandmother and travelling agency to agency and helping out post villain attacks and doing what he could, gaining adoration and fans through how much he helped.
They almost forgot he was an Omega till he went on maternity leave.
(Sons name) was very much like Katsuki, a spitfire who had many little options and though Katsuki calmed down considerably there was no denying they were practically clones.
And because of this, it devastated (sons name) when he didn't get his sires "heroic" quirk but instead got (name)s quirk, the boy over time developing a resentment to his Dam.
Due to (name) only being called for emergencies, he ended up taking his late grandmother's place at U.As Medical wing.
And because of these hours, he was often left to care for his son alone while Katsuki did hero work, and because of this missed his son developing into a mythic asshole.
(Name) was exhausted after work, needing to use his quirk a lot today along with quirkless medical practice as many students didn't need his quirk but a simple bandage and such.
The house was a mess, whenever (sons name) came home he always made a mess, deeming it "Omega work" as the teen scrolled his phone "arent you supposed to be studying for the written exam?"
"Why should I? Dad got me in on recommendation, thank god since all you gave me was a shitty quirk" the teen snapped and (name) looked absolutely heartbroken at this as the teen continued "thank god dad's been teaching me martial arts since it's so useless-- seriously why did I have to get stuck with something as useless as your quirk, I'm amazed dad settled for someone as useless as you"
"The fuck you say?" The two turned to see Katsuki Bakugo walk in, out of uniform after finishing work at his agency "d-dad..." (sons name) looked sick and (name) on the verge of tears "your dad's "useless quirk" literally saved countless lives and your dad hauled ass saving countless People from villains" his voice cold as he dropped his duffle bag "why's the house a mess? You not fucking helping your Dam? I know he just got home so I know this ain't his mess" he laughed without any humor "disrespectful little shit, get up and clean this mess, after we train and get ready because it's gonna be hell" Katsuki promised coldly and the teen got up not wanting to piss off his dad more as the pro led (name) to their room.
"How long?" He said pulling the exhausted Omega into his lap, only soft for his mate "honestly since he found out his quirk, it's just been coming out the past few months..." Katsuki was shocked at this, how did he miss this?! "Why didn't you say anything?"
"... You were busy... You were working so hard on building your agency and I wanted to lift some weight off your shoulders" he wanted to cry as his husband held him close "stop being stupid" his voice loving despite the harsh words "I'll whip I'm straight, rely on me idiot"
(Name) was left to relax in the bedroom as Bakugo handled his son, calling a few hero friends to help especially the teens uncle Izuku and uncle Aizawa-- the teen spending his break at his uncle Aizawas and subsequently with uncle Shinsou who was visiting.
By the written exam he was kicked into shape and Bakugo made sure his mate was reminded over and over again how loved he was.
#omega male reader#omegaverse#male reader#bnha x male reader#bnha x reader#mha x male reader#mha x reader#bakugo katuski x reader#bakugo katsuki x male reader#bakugo x male reader
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can I request a dark!(any of cillian murphy’s characters) who’s basically this spoiled entitled rich guy and he meets a waitress who puts him in his place for disrespecting her? so he decides to teach her a lesson
THE WAY THIS IS PERFECT FOR DARK!ROBERT FISCHER??? OH MY GOD??
warnings: DARK NONCON SMUT!! 18+ only, misogyny and classism, pretty extreme degradation, semi-public sex, hair pulling
You weren't sure why that one interaction stuck in your head, it wasn't like you hadn't dealt with rude customers before: they're plentiful in a fancy place like this, only people wealthy enough to be used to getting whatever they wanted could afford to eat here.
Maybe it was just because you'd already noticed him from the first moment you came to the table, and not just because he looked a little out of place surrounded by the other businessmen... you thought he was gorgeous, obviously. Which made it even more disappointing when he was a huge tool, correcting your pronunciation of some of the menu items and then trying to summon you to the table with a few impatient snaps of his fingers. Not to mention calling you 'sweetheart' instead of your name-- classic sexist bullshit.
Or maybe you remembered him because of the rage when you stood up to him-- just for a second, you saw it in his eyes, before he let out a nervous and condescending laugh to try to break the tension. But even just that flash of anger in his stare made you regret speaking up. Normally, you didn't take shit from anyone and you didn't apologize for the feelings you hurt along the way... but that, his look right then, was everything people had been warning you about. It's one thing to stand up to someone, it's another to antagonize them.
It was enough to make you feel a little nervous when your shift ended that night. You'd watched the flock of stuffy suits leave after their meal, obviously not giving you a tip because of course they wouldn't, and yet you had this lingering feeling like you were being watched-- like you hadn't seen the last of that infuriated glare.
But, feeling like you were definitely overreacting, you resisted the urge to ask your manager to walk you to your car. It was late, of course, and you shivered a bit as the chilly night air made your thin cardigan feel pretty much useless.
Just as you unlocked your car, opening the backseat door to toss in your bag, you felt a hand cover your mouth as someone grabbed you. Your instinctive scream was muffled as you heard a harsh 'shh' by your ear, a heavy form pressing into yours.
You were pushed into the car, tossed roughly down over the backseats as the man's weight kept you pinned down, and you tried to struggle but found yourself quickly incapacitated by his strength.
"How fucking dare you," he spat right against your ear; and you recognized the voice, of course you did, it was burned into your mind already. "You rude little bitch..."
"Get off me," you growled, "you fucking asshole!"
"No, no," he purred, pinning your arms down when you tried to push him back, "not until you've learned your lesson. The way you spoke to me at dinner, I just can't let you get away with that."
"I-I'm sorry, okay?" you breathed, distressed by how easily he held your arms in place by his tight grip on your wrists; you felt him smile against your ear, a dark little chuckle making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. "I'm sorry-- I wasn't trying to be rude."
"Yes, you were, sweetheart," he disagreed, throwing the condescending name right at you again. "You were trying to, what, emasculate me? How's that working out for you?"
Honestly, you had been-- you always figured customers like that had it coming, and you'd relished in the chance to make him look like an idiot in front of presumably some very important people. "I'm sorry," you said again. "I was wrong. Please... please just get out and we can forget this ever happened."
You shuddered when his hand moved down to your skirt, rubbing your leg with a hum and slowly pushing up the fabric. "You were hoping for a big tip tonight, weren't you?" he chuckled. "I think I can still give you one."
"P-please," you choked out again, "Mr. Fischer, right? I'm sorry... just please don't--"
He covered your mouth again, grinning at you as he pulled the skirt up roughly and yanked your panties down, giving your ass a hard smack as you yelped behind the strong grip of his fingers. "Don't worry," he offered as he started to hastily open his fly with one hand, "I'm just going to remind you of your place. A whore like you will probably like it."
You shut your eyes tight, hearing him grunt as he adjusted himself to be right at your opening, teasing your hole with his head for just a moment before suddenly and forcefully shoving in. You screamed behind his hand, dropping your head defeatedly, and he groaned happily as he started to fuck you.
"That's it," he praised darkly, "just take it, honey."
Shuddering, you went limp under him, out of other options; you winced as his cock forced its way deep inside you, so deep that your back tried to arch up to avoid some of the intense pressure.
"Shh," he soothed, putting a hand on your back to keep it down, "that's better-- fuck, you little slut..."
He was speeding up already, and you still hadn't adjusted to his size. Clearly his shitty attitude wasn't compensating for anything, like you'd implied before-- and you choked on your moans of discomfort as he finally let go of your mouth. Only broken sighs came out, unfortunately, and in the corner of your eye you could see him staring down at you with a sneer.
"This is exactly what you deserve," he panted, "getting fucked like a cheap whore in this filthy car. I don't think I've ever been inside one of these things-- my god, is that a cassette player?! How old is this piece of shit?"
You groaned, amazed that he had the energy or focus to insult your car in a time like this-- you were just panting and holding tightly onto the beige fabric seats under you, hoping that someone, anyone, would see what was happening and stop him. God, if someone saw, they'd probably think this was a consensual thing, a kinky little public hookup-- but you couldn't just scream for help or something, you felt very confident that he would find a way to keep you silent.
He sighed as he buried his face in your neck, his hips moving faster-- needier, really. He was even moaning, squeezing your wrists again, acting oddly passionate as if this was something very different than what it was. "You could be pretty, you know," he mumbled to you, "if you smiled more-- and if you didn't do your makeup like a cheap whore. Well... I guess you can't help the cheap part."
"You could be pretty if you weren't a psychopath," you snapped back, making him chuckle proudly.
"Still got that fucking attitude," he noticed, "guess I haven't fucked it out of you yet. How about when you're dripping with my come? Then will you understand how you need to speak to your superiors?"
"Don't," you begged in a gasp, "please-- please don't--"
But he just growled and fucked you harder, making the whole car move with the force of his thrusts. "You fucking wanted me," he accused through his teeth, "didn't you? You wanted this. I could see it on your face, the second you looked at me-- you were imagining how well I'd wreck this little cunt."
You tried to shake your head, but he grabbed you by your hair and yanked your head back until you yelped out a sob.
"I'm close," he breathed, "gonna fucking fill you-- 'cause it's all your good for, sweetheart. Being a waitress isn't that fucking complicated, and you're still shit at that-- so how about you just embrace your natural talents, huh? How about you just take my fucking cock and say 'thank you'?"
"F-fuck you," you barely managed to rasp out, and he made sure to punish you for that by absolutely pounding into you for the last of it.
"Stupid fucking whore," he snarled between deep grunts, "f-fuck, you bitch--"
He moaned suddenly as he came, letting go of your hair and dropping you down onto the backseat again as he gave a few shallow, shaky thrusts; his grip was on your hips instead, keeping you still so he could go as deep as possible.
"Fuck," he sighed, panting to catch his breath; you blinked a haziness out of your eyes, hissing as he pulled out of you-- you were going to feel that sting tomorrow, if not longer.
He put his cock back in his trousers and zipped them up, getting out of the car and taking out his wallet.
"Here's a tip," he offered as he tossed a few bills at you, laughing as you widened your eyes at the realization that they were hundreds. "Start saving up for a new car. Or at least get this one cleaned... you're leaking my come all over the seats."
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It was Gojo's idea for Nanami to take on an apprentice, something he never wanted to do. You were ambitious and listened very well but it was a distraction for Nanami. You were too pretty, obedient, and respectful. He liked that, he liked it a little too much. Had Nanami been assigned someone disrespectful and rude, maybe he wouldn't keep daydreaming about fucking you in the back of his car or making you gag on his cock.
After a mission one day, you asked Nanami if you can stay over at his place, you were too tired to drive to your apartment and he said yes immediately. He let you take a shower, cooked you dinner and you two were currently watching a movie but Nanami wasn't focused. His eyes ran down your legs, you were wearing nothing but his shirt, he was in war with his own mind. He couldn't help it as his hand reached out and rubbed your inner thigh, you looked at him. "Just keep watching the movie." He told you as his hand went higher and higher.
Not long after that, you were sitting on his lap making out as he caressed your soft skin under the shirt. His lips kissed down your neck eagerly, biting on the flesh and leaving marks behind. "You're fucking killing me. You'll be the end of me." Nanami whispered as he took the shirt off of your body, your underwear followed shortly after. You moaned against his mouth as he entered you, his hands strongly gripping your hips. He starts to bounce you up and down on his cock, each thrust hitting deeper and deeper. Your pussy clamps down on him, the wet noise reaching Nanamis ears. He wraps his strong arms around you and kisses you as he carries you to his bedroom.
It was Gojo's idea for Nanami to take on an apprentice and for the first time in his life, Nanami was thankful to him.
(this was sitting in my drafts for some time so...here it is)
#nanami smut#nanami kento#nanami#nanami kento x reader#nanami kento smut#nanami x reader#nanami x fem!reader#nanami jjk#jjk nanami#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#nanami kento x y/n#nanami kento x you#Nanami kento x reader smut#nanami x y/n#nanami x reader smut
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