#just me gushing about edge of great | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bowieandqueen11 · 7 months

Text

Sanji With A Clingy Reader Would Include...

Request: OH BABY telling about one piece is like unlocking a whole second heart of mine i have fully for that anime and manga and live action. and so, if you ever decided of course, you writing something similar to something you did on marvel once and sanji with reader that has no personal space and is touchy would be amazing. but also... kissing zoro is great to, if you ever decided? anyway! HOPE YOU LOVE IT (one piece i mean), and if not ignore me UwU

Ooh yess babes this is so SWEET!! :3 I LOVED IT omg hello to my latest obsession not me ordering the first collection of the manga

This was really sweet and fun to do, but I did stay up all night writing it so all comments are much appreciated!

Warning: slightly spicy, some mentions of fighting!

(I do not own One Piece or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @fanpageknight.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

Look at this man. Seriously, look at this man with his little bottom lip bite and eyes like the sun shines heavily out of them and tell me he would be anything less than absolutely madly, heart wrenchingly, soul crushingly enthralled with a clingy reader??? That's right you can't take the l on this one.

It all started that day when the three of you ended up shipwrecked on that sad sack excuse of a rock. When you and Sanji huddled on one side of the forsaken isle to stay away from the terrifying Pirate Zeff. His hands had shaken as he drew them up to his chest, but he mustered the nerves to string open the sack Zeff had thrown at his feet. Once he had counted out the cans, he offered all the food to you.

He wanted you to stay alive far more than himself. Ever since you had landed on his ship he had been smitten, and his weary heart would beat its last under this smothering sun as long as you would live on for the both of them.

To keep him calm: to stop his gasping, tortured heaves as he tried his best not to writhe in panic at the thought of never stepping back on safe land again, you would spent most of those 85 days sitting over the cragged edges. Sanji couldn't tear his eyes away from peering down at the gushing shards of stone below that seemed to rip up in tides and tear for his swinging feet; to try and distract him from sniffling any longer, your hand would tentatively creep over the rock until it landed flatly, and unceremoniously on top of his own. His fingers flexed beneath your own, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he folded them upwards, giving your hand a shaking squeeze: a dutiful promise, a flitting confession of love, that you just happened not to feel in your ruminations of the circumstances.

In fact, he asked you that night, in an uncharacteristically quiet and bashful voice, if you would keep his nightmares away by holding him like his mother used to. You felt terrible: you were so stunned that for a moment you stood with the last piece of mouldy bread you had in your hand in shocked silence. Poor Sanji thought you were about to reject him outright: throw what little he had left of his heart - that he had so carefully lifted out and placed in his hands to offer to you, only to have it thrown back to his feet in the usual ridicule he got for his love. His bottom lip began to tremble, until you nearly knocked him onto his bottom with how fast you dropped everything and flew over to lock him in a tight hug, not minding the fact that your shoulder was growing wetter and wetter despite the brewing rain each time Sanji buried his snivelling head against it.

So you would let him rest safely in the bracket of your arms: his left cheek resting in the warm stretch between your collar bone and your neck, his right hand draped leisurely around your waist as you told him stories of pirates and treasure: of the Deep Blue and tropical fish that shone like bursts of fragmented starlight every time their fins graced the water. Although he would groan any time you removed your hand from where you were stroking the wet strands of his hair back from his forehead, it was quickly replaced with wonderment as you would point up at a cluster of stars and whisper excitedly: 'look, there's some now!'

He had never been afraid of nights ever since that moment, not when the stars were still out and he could trace with the butt of his cigarettes the fish you had drawn specially for him in the skies. It was like a secret message: a lover's reminder that he was never alone. That you were always with him. That your beauty - your light, it shone everywhere, no matter where he was.

It was the first time he had kissed you, two forgotten children lost underneath the dripping crevice of your little hideaway. As your belly began to rise and fall underneath his elbow, and he believed you had exhausted yourself out after trying to make him feel better, he dared to dart up from your shoulder and press his lips firmly against your cheek. It had been quick, almost gliding past time like a dolphin leaping up out of the water, but it had meant so much to him that he curled up into a ball in your side and flushed a bright cerise, having to shove his fist into his mouth to stop his manic giggling from waking you up.

But you weren't asleep, and as Sanji settled back into your neck with a smile bright enough to rival the shine of buttercup petals, you swore as he began to drift off in the first peaceful dream he had had in years that one day you would return the favour, but in full.

The two of you were thick as thieves growing up, to the point where Zeff became so distracted by your antics that he often tried to separate the two of you by making you work the floor and Sanji either in the kitchens, or off fishing at the docks. Ten seconds later though, he'd be kicking through the kitchen doors again to find you leaning on the kitchen counter next to an eager faced Sanji, whose to busy to register Zeff's shouting. Instead he places the spoon to your lips, having spent half of lunch service prep cooking you a brand new recipe he had spent the whole night creating out of a medley of your favourite foods. He subconsciously licks his bottom lip, the tension in the room felt by the other chefs who try to carry on washing pans and cutting vegetables enough to put everyone on edge as Sanji refused to look anywhere but your lips. Holding his hand under your chin, his dipped eyes were broken by a sudden grin as a loud 'mmhhh' left your mouth and you chewed in sweet bliss.

Still ignoring Zeff's increasingly erratic rant, as Sanji goes to start cleaning up his pan you slide down to stand behind him, wrapping your arms tightly around your back and jutting your chin into his shoulder blade like a baby koala. You can tell he's laughing silently by the way his shoulders shake against you, but all he does is pull up your hand from his belly button to press sweet, dainty kisses up and down the lengths of your fingers, before dropping it down to press your palm flatly against his heart.

'I think that might be your greatest dish yet, buttercup!'

'From you, that means everything my precious heart.'

'Why do you call me that?', you murmur, refusing to lift your lips from his shirt.

'Well my sweet love, why do you call me buttercup? I mean, I always know I smell of butter and the likes-'.

He's distracted by your snort against the side of his neck, but the two of you are too love-strikingly embarrassed to say anything again. Even if neither of you could see the warm peach rushing up both your cheeks, Zeff could. He could also hear the padding thuds of Sanji's heart as he gripped his fingers that almost imperceptibly bit tighter around your hand, and he found himself sighing at how oblivious you two idiots were.

Sanji is definitely just as clingy as you, if not more so. You've definitely met your match in this man. I mean, any time you're out on the floor, handing out bread to tables and scanning the room to check if there were any patrons you may have to throw out by the scuff of their collars later, his eyes are trained on yours. He leans against the banisters, not even trying to remotely hide how obviously he's tracing your path with a dumbstruck, lit up smile. If you're in the kitchens, desperately trying to bite your tongue and not tear Zeff a new one as he chops his hands together and rushes you to plate up? He's sliding up to your side in an instant, throwing scathing looks at the man while trying to help you spoon thyme onto your bass, nuzzling the side of his head into yours encouragingly. If you have any free time at all? Sanji is fast on your heels, darting after you like someone's firing shots at his dress shoes, as if you have his heart tied to a string on your wrist as he seeks out whatever nook you're going to relax in. It doesn't matter if you're at the bar, watching the docks, or trying to hide from Zeff in one of the cupboards in the pantry: Sanji is squatting down and grunting as he shoves himself in right next to you. He sits criss cross, only satisfied when at least one of his knees is resting heavily over yours, and he has full access to watch what you're reading over the side of your neck.

He only fully settles, though, if you touch him in some way. He genuinely will begin mewling once your hand reaches over to brush your knuckles over his jawline, or your hand finds itself guided to bunch itself up in his hair. One time, he guided your hand into his lap, and you began to absentmindedly stroke your pointer finger along the seam of his inner thigh. Thank goodness you had your head buried in a book one of the pirate crews had come to swap some dried meats with you for, because it took every muscle in Sanji's body twitching: every finger clenching and unclenching into his knee until he drew blood not to knock you flat right there and then and kiss you like there was no tomorrow.

He gets a MASSIVE nosebleed - so gushing, in fact, that he tries to reassure you he's fine as you hold him by the elbows and lead his tilted back head and pinched nose down to Zeff for some help.

It becomes a very major recurring issue every time he looks at you. He makes sure to carry a handkerchief in his breast pocket from then on.

God, if he didn't love you more than anything in all the seas. If you weren't the only one that he let see past his charming nature: if you weren't the only person left in his life that truly could recognise the young boy left in his eyes, in his gait, in his smile, in his dreams. That little kid on that great big ship, the one who had found you stowed away behind one of the barrels of rum, and instead of calling for the crew had taken your trembling hand and led you into the kitchens, introducing you as his newest sous chef. That same kid, who stood beside you and held your hand so gently, so heartbreakingly gently under his as he guided you through lessons of chopping onions and sautéing garlic, breaking out into long strings of rushed, praising French every time you got it right. The same one, who would frown as if he were the one who had been hurt any time you burnt your hands or sliced your fingers. Who would unravel the knot at the back of his apron, and tug it over his head to carefully place it over yours.

'This always brings me luck', he would say as his fingers daintily tucked the strings underneath your shirt collar. 'But I don't need it anymore, because you've brought me all the luck and happiness a man could ever dream of, my cherie.'

The same kid who would tip toe out of his bed to sneak down to your hammock, crawling in and burying himself underneath your blankets where you slept in the brig, telling you fantastical stories about his mother until you fell sound asleep. He would watch you from where he lay on his side, hands folded by your head, as if you had hung every star in the wide skies. He would brush his fingers over the edge of your cheek and curl up beside you, wishing that every minute of every day of the rest of his life could be spent with you.

Yeah, smitten wasn't enough to cover it. Only destiny could be raw enough to draw the two of you to each other, Sanji always thought.

As teenagers, you would end every shift outside, sitting on the wonky boards of one of the jutted docks. Just sitting side by side, as you always wanted to be, pretending you weren't playing a game of chicken as the two of you teased and pressed and glanced your fingers over each other's, leaning back and looking up at the stars. Sanji always appreciated the better chance it gave him: shrouded in naught by wisps of moonlight and the rare flashing neon of ship string lights, to take you in as much as he could. You didn't mind the fact that he spent the whole time staring over at you. In fact, if you hadn't been so lovestruck, you might have found the courage to tear your head away from the horizon to meet the look of gut-wrenching devotion that always seemed to pour out of his eyes and beam only on you. It always felt like warm sunlight, sitting next to him, and so you finally dared a chance at grabbing his fingers and intertwining them between your own, pretending it was because of the sea chill spraying a fine mist over your legs.

Again, the squeeze he gave your hand was almost, almost imperceptible, but you felt it this time. And you could feel the look of enduring devotion he pierced into your skin, a warm tingle washing like a spring tide through your tired body.

He always knew. He always knew that if he had stayed on that rock, he would have been content to. Happy, even. Because he would have been with you.

'I love you', he said without words. He gave your hand another squeeze. 'I'm going to love you forever. No matter how many lifetimes. No matter who I am. I'm always going to find you, and I'm always going to love you.'

His voice nearly made you jump, surprising you at how it started with his usual buttery smoothness, before cracking with a thick gulp as his words trailed of. 'Never leave without me.'

'I promise, as long as you don't leave without me.'

He shakes his head. 'You never leave me. Not even for a moment.'

Sometimes, when the two of you are older, he still comes stealing into your room at night, wiping his nose with the back of his hand as his lips wobble into a frightened frown. Turns out, as he draws the covers back and comes reaching in for you, he had another nightmare that pirates had come to steal you away from him again. With an aching sigh for how stricken he looked, how desolate, you let him claw at your shirt and bury his head into the side of your neck until the rest of the world melted away.

He kissed you again, that night. When the feel of his legs strewn familiarly between your own began to burn against his skin, and the weight of hand perched over his thrumming heart became too heavy to bear in secret. With nothing but the light streaming like shards of pearly stars through the porthole to betray a moment so special, so longed for, Sanji let his eyelashes flutter close as he slowly... slowly pressed his lips against your cheek again.

This time, his eyes widened in shock as the feeling of your hand gripping at his jaw and turning his face straight on to your own. Before he can even open his mouth in confusion, the sweet pressure of your lips pressed against his top one. For a moment, Sanji doesn't move an inch: doesn't even breath, not even processing that the thing he’s spent every moment of his waking and sleeping life wishing for ever since he found you on that boat was actually happening, right here right now. He tries really hard to stop his whole body from shaking, as his silky lashes finally falter shut against the top of your cheeks and he tries to focus his whole attention on the way your plush lip seems to press so perfectly against his own.

When he finally pulls away, he lets out a loud 'OW' as he pinches his arm.

'What did you do that for!?'

'I had to double check this wasn't a dream, my sweets!'

And then he's on you again, like a ravished man gasping for air. God, he wasn't sure if soulmates were real, but when your top lip pulled down against his, and he could feel the thud of your heart synch against his own beneath the tips of his fingers, if he didn't know that he was yours.

He stays in your room a lot more often after that, using it as an excuse for you to help him button up his shirt during sleepy mornings, smiling at the feel of your fingers as they knocked against the muscles of his chest. It was also his favourite part of the day - the good morning kiss the two of you shared before you raced down to be at your shifts before Zeff decided to knock your heads together.

One time you forgot to give him one, too distracted by one of the sous chefs busting into your room with a bloodied nose and a chipped front tooth, whistling through the gap as he begged you to come down to the main foyer and help him break out a fist fight that had started between two gangs of rival pirates. The pout on Sanji's face that day was enough to make even the most bounty-heavy pirate's knees tremble. Every other chef steered way clear of his station, watching the arch of his back and the jaw in his muscle jump as he busied himself by frying his steak of tuna, so gutted at the loss of just one kiss. Not angry, no: just grief stricken, because this man seriously just adores you that much.

When you finally get your lunch break, the first thing you do is throw your napkin down on the kitchen ground and grab Sanji by his suit collar, enjoying the surprise tilt of his head as he drops his spoon onto his serving tray and allows you to lead his feet backwards to the fire exit. As soon as he's outside, you slam him gently against the wooden beams of the Baratie restaurant, and kissed him silly to make up for it. His look of trusting confusion suddenly melt into jumping heart eyes when your knee slides up between his thighs to try and pin him in place. His breathing comes out in harsh, shallow gasps between ferocious kisses, and you have to press him back against the wall every time he comes arching forward to follow your head for even more kisses. No, this was about you making him feel good. And by goodness, as your tongue pressed against the seam of his lips and tentatively ran over his front teeth, if he wasn't two seconds away from falling to his knees right there and then.

When you let him go, he slides down the wall like putty until he's sitting with legs stretched out and both his suit and hair a ruffled mess. He's literally never been more deliriously happy in his whole life.

Your favourite time of the day is when the restaurant closes, and the two of you finally have the kitchens to yourselves. Once you've tossed your aprons back onto the rack with a tired sigh, the only thing that can cheer you up is the sound of Sanji kicking his chair back with the toe of his shoe, and the sight of him beckoning you over to him with that tilted head and pearly beam of his. Mmh, how safe you feel, how loved as you collapse down to sit on his knees, and he tucks you in between the brackets of his arms in a vice so tight it could match any Marine knot.

You take one of his hands off the pen he was holding, turning his palm round to face you so you could fiddle with the rings he was wearing. You draw one up, curling his finger before your eyes, before slotting one off and sliding it onto your own ring finger. It was the one his father had given him: one he so loathed to wear, and yet felt guilt bore down too heavily on his conscious to ever take it off. You turned the one on top of it, one you know Zeff had given him after his first day working at the Baratie, and you smiled at the memory.

'You know', you start, still fiddling with his hand, feeling him shift his thighs as you pressed a gentle kiss on the pointer finger you were currently grasping onto. 'I may just have to keep this one.'

'Oh yeah?', he says dreamily, and you could feel his grin growing as he hid his burning face in the nape of your neck. 'Don't worry sweetheart. One day, once I find the perfect one, I'll give you a ring of your own.'

The two of you sneak out and share cigarettes out the back door a lot, where Sanji steps forward and kisses you like a man possessed every time you pinch the stub from out of his mouth and draw it along your bottom lip teasingly. When you try to get him to go back in, he just wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you up, spinning you around to stop you from leaving him alone. Laughing, you try to shove him off, swatting at the hands that form a tight clasp over your belly button, until his large fingers finally slide down to hold your waist. You glance behind you, smirking at the way his eyes are tightly shut in euphoria as ducks down, chest nearly enveloping in his desperation to reach your face again. His kisses become sloppier: smoke stained as they leave wet trails up your jaw, before he finally gives in and tries to make you laugh one last time by nibbling at the lobe of your ear.

Whenever he has a fight with Zeff, you have to hold him afterwards. The feel of your fingers curling the hair at the nape of his neck, or rubbing soothing circles into the sore muscles of his shoulders stops the furious darts of air from flaring his nostrils almost immediately.

Man has blaring heart eyes 100% whenever he's in a fight with rowdy customers, and you get to kick the flashy knife out of the last one's hand before the pirate could launch straight for Sanji's neck. He tilts his head at you with those amazed eyes, a gentle smile growing almost shyly on his face like a secret wink, before he throws his now empty plate at the pirate trying to sneak up behind your back. The crash echoes out through the booth area, a cry so furious: so full of rage that anyone would try and dare hurt you, that it makes all the remaining pirate crews crawl out towards the door on their hands and knees.

Stitching each other up afterwards is a motherfcking mess though, that Zeff straight up just abandons all hope of being able to use his kitchen. With a defeated rub of his pounding temples, he lets the door slam shut on his heel because he just can't deal with the two of you. He'd much rather pick up a brush and start sweeping bits of crushed and splattered asparagus off the floors than have to watch you to battle it out in a stiff competition of who could be more sickeningly, maddingly in love with the other. Between you standing between Sanji's entrapping thighs, closing you in tighter so you could have full access to kiss his bobbing Adam's apple as you use a rag to swipe bits of dry sauce off his neck, and him throwing his head back and whimpering, Zeff was going to go insane. Even worse, as soon as you're finished, Sanji's reaching between your fingers to lick split consomme off your nose.

The two of you are literally insufferable, and if every one apart from Zeff doesn't find it the cutest thing I-

When Luffy comes and wrangles Sanji into joining his crew, the chef's first thought is to be distraught. He seeks you out straight away, nearly breaking some poor fisherman's pole as he tries to hurdle over it and grip onto your shoulders, making you drop the barrel of dried meats you were carrying from Luffy onto the planks and watching Luffy nearly dangle off the edge of his ship to stop it from rolling into the ocean.

'Y/n- I- I can't go!'

'You're hardly scared!'

'I'm not scared of going, I'm terrified of going without you!'

You let him pour his heart out for a moment, before stopping his rambling, near sobbing mess of a sentence by bopping the tip of his nose. You giggle, swiping some hair from his forehead. 'Sanji, Luffy asked me to come first. I promised I wouldn't go without you, and I meant it.'

You manage to unlatch his twitching hand from your left shoulder, and give it an almost imperceptible squeeze. The tears that threatened to fall from his eyes finally cascade down, although he's so relieved that he's smiling through the blurriness. You swipe them away with your free thumb, finally, after all these years, feeling the squeeze of your hand that Sanji gives you back, before he envelops you in a breath taking hug.

'Awww, you guys are so sweet!', Luffy calls out from where he's hanging by his sandal off the railing of his ship. 'But could someone give me a hand before my hat falls into the waves? That would not be very cool.'

The first thing the two of you do once you're on The Going Merry is to find your bunk. Sanji isn't very subtle when he kicks your door shut with his heel, and comes scampering towards you like an upended sand crab, pinching for you until he's hefted you up over his shoulder and has unceremoniously landed you in your shared hammock. He's quick to jump in, straddling you as the hammock sways back and forth with the commotion.

He nearly starts crying again when he sees a flash of silver poke out from underneath your neckline; he grazes his hand over the chain, recognising it as his father's ring you had taken months ago. The one he had hated so much. The one you had tried to save him from. A small piece of him. A weight you tried to bear for him. A reminder of how much he was loved.

A confused Zoro, not realising there are new crew members on board, follows the sound of Sanji's voice crooning out how much he adores you, and how he loves you more than every star in the sky, down past the window on your bedroom door. Let's just say, he's not very impressed when he catches sight of the hammock swinging wildly from side to side, and an array of clothes thrown out and discarded in a mess around it.

#one piece #sanji #one piece imagine #sanji imagine #sanji x reader #sanji headcanons #opla #monkey d luffy #zoro #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji imagine #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji headcanons

1K notes · View notes

luveline · 2 months

Note

Can I request Eddie and R tending to each other’s wounds (given they both survive the demobats in the UD)?

ty <3 fem!reader, 1.4k

cw canon typical violence

“You’re sweating like crazy.”

“Eddie, that’s the sort of thing you don’t say to a girl,” you say, hands shaking hard as you ruffle through the duffle bag at your side. Your knees burn like they’re on fire, your arms raked with claw marks, but Eddie’s been minced. If you hadn’t climbed your way back to him with the makeshift flamethrower at his feet, Eddie would probably be dead. Scorched demobat is a gross smell.

“What are you so scared of? It’s like, running down your cheek,” he says.

“Shut up,” you say, glancing back, hoping Dustin will be right behind you. You hadn’t stopped to make sure he was alright. What if he’s hurt too? “Seriously, just don’t talk. You’re gonna bleed to death and die and your last words are gonna be about how sweaty I am.”

You peel back a soaked square of gauze from his waist and smash a clean one overtop to soak up the pooling blood. Eddie gasps in agony, writhing away from your touch, but to his credit, his voice is strong as he says, “Shit, true. I can make them better. How about, um… oh. You’re smoking. Like, seriously gorgeous. That better?”

Your eyes sting as you turn your face to your shoulder, cupping his cheek, his blood wet on your fingers and staining his skin red. “How would you know? It’s dark out.”

“I’ve seen your face in the light hundreds of times. I know what I’m talking about.”

He would’ve been turned to mulch without your rescuing. There are split cuts all over him, it’s awful, and you won’t be able to fix him yourself here, but you don’t have to. You just need to stop his bleeding and help him deal with the pain until Dustin makes it through. The two of you can drag him to safety.

Maybe the best way to do that is to let him tease you. “You really think I’m pretty?” you ask, pressing another piece of gauze over this second one, wincing when he lets out a pained gasp.

“Are you kidding?”

“I thought you liked, you know, the really pretty girls, like–”

“You are a really pretty girl, are you kidding? Don’t fish for compliments.”

You shake your head, laughing, half-terrified. The blood isn’t slowing. “Eddie, I have to press down harder, okay? I’m sorry.”

“Just do it,” he says. You dig the heel of your palm into his side. “Fuck!”

“You’re really not gonna like this next part,” you warn, pushing his legs flat to the floor.

You climb over his thighs and sit on his lap, hand twisted to cover his wound and the other peeling the paper covering off of another sterile square of gauze. Eddie swears like a sailor as you squeeze down, the majority of your upper weight being pressed to his open wounds. It would be an uncomfortable sensation without the cuts. You know it’s torture.

“Oh, god,” he says, “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“That’s a great reaction,” you say, lifting the edge of the leftmost gauze. The blood pools but doesn’t gush down his side. You sigh in relief. “Oh, thank god.”

“Maybe don’t say stuff like that sitting on my crotch.”

“Are you for real?” You meet his eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks. “You’re really thinking about your dick right now?”

“Of course not, I’m a gentleman, but you’re kind of on top of me and it’s been a really hard week.”

You burst out laughing. He gags in pain and turns away.

The cavalry arrives not long after that, though it feels like hours. Together, somehow, you drag Eddie back to the gate, and things get a little blurry after that.

—

You’ve never been so tired in your life as you are right now, but you’re so relieved that the world has taken on a golden quality, and Eddie looks golden too.

His hair is wet. You think Wayne might’ve washed it for him over the bath; it’s been greasy for a week while his stitches started to heal up, and he spent it in Steve’s bed. The only good thing about having absent parents apparently is being able to harbour a fugitive without being noticed, and anybody else who couldn’t go home without explaining their injuries.

“You okay?” Eddie asks.

“Mm.” You scrunch up into yourself on the couch, cradling your arm where it aches to your chest.

“You’ve been sleeping all day. Figured I’d make sure you weren’t in a coma.” You think about poor Max. He must see your wavering expression, sitting on the couch by your legs with an apologetic smile. “She’s doing even better today. Sinclair thinks she was squeezing his finger, so that’s something.”

“Can’t believe all that stuff really happened,” you mumble, the blanket pulled over your chin muffling your voice. It’s a wonder he can hear you.

“Feels fake, right? I keep forgetting about it when I wake up, and then I have to stand and feel my stomach try to split open and remember I was bat chow.” He nods to your arm. “Still hurting?”

It’s nothing compared to his. Your cuts didn’t need stitching, but the were deep still. You’ve only had the butterfly bandages taken off yesterday. The skin aches where the scar tissue is forming. “Sort of itchy,” you say.

“Yeah?” He pulls a little white tube from his pyjama pants hesitantly. “Maybe I can help?”

“What’s that?”

“Non disclosed ointment. Pretty sure it’s the good stuff from Mike’s girl’s government friends.”

They’re gonna clear Eddie’s name, apparently. So far they’ve done a whole lot of nothing while Hawkins falls apart around you. Well, besides the drugs. They’ve given out plenty of painkillers.

Eddie shuffles closer to you and takes your arm into his hand. “Her name is Eleven,” you say.

“I know.” He pushes your sleeve up over the bump of your elbow to expose the worst of your scarring.

You think he’s aware of what you did that day to save him. He’s been achingly nice to you since he woke up. Even when he couldn’t walk, he’d been shouting down the stairs from Steve’s room to check if you were alright on the couch. Usually met with a chorus of Shut the fuck ups, it had been sweet, if a little embarrassing to have to call back. I’m okay. Thanks!

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” he says.

You watch him uncap the ointment and squeeze a ball of it onto his finger. It’s semi-translucent, smelling of arnica with a bit of kick to it. He turns your wrist gently in one hand and begins to trace the lines of your scars one by one, as gentle as anyone’s ever touched you, his pinky finger suspended and shaky as he draws toward the crook of your elbow.

“Well, don’t leave me waiting,” you say eventually.

“Right, just. I’m trying to be braver. It’s not working in my favour yet.”

You laugh. “No, really?”

“But you saved my life. Everybody knows it. You and Henderson saved me, and I can’t make it up to you. This,” —he smooths ointment over the ridge of your cruellest scar— “is permanent. And scaring you like that, I mean. I shouldn’t have gone back in, and I should have kept running, it was selfish, trying to do a good thing and…” He holds your arm in his hands and meets your eyes. You don’t see a trace of the shrill, loud boy you’d spent the last two weeks with. “Getting you hurt.”

“I got hurt trying to save the world,” you say. “‘Cos, you know, not everything’s about you…”

His smile is slow as molasses and doubly sweet as he wraps his arm behind your shoulders. He’s careful, you’re both fragile right now, but he squeezes you and laughs warmly against your ear and he’s back to the Eddie you remember. “Everything is about me. It’s totally about me, babe, and you’re just jealous.”

He rubs your back.

“You know,” he adds, hand trialling lazily to the small of your back, where it stays, “I wouldn’t be here without you. So if you need anything, just let me know.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Yeah?” he asks, pulling back. He kisses your cheek as he does, his hands falling on top of yours. “Alright. You’re still smoking hot, you know that? The scars are sick. You’re cool now.”

Your fingers twitch against his palm. “Thanks, Eddie.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

879 notes · View notes

daisynik7 · 5 months

Text

cw: established relationship, smut - PIV sex, cunnilingus, ass slapping, pet names (good girl, good boy) - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Author's Note: This is so so silly y'all, I'm sorry. As an avid fan of ugly sweaters, I just couldn't resist this one. 😬 Divider credit to @/cafekitsune!

It’s the ugliest sweater he’s ever laid eyes on, yet Nanami finds himself wearing it, grimacing at his own reflection in the mirror. “Honey,” he calls out to you. “Are you sure about this?”

The distinct sound of jingling bells grows louder the closer you approach him, wearing the same exact sweater. There’s tinsel haphazardly spread across the chest, puff balls sporadically glued throughout the fabric, and of course, bells littered in what seems like every inch. You found it at a local thrift shop and just had to buy it for the upcoming holiday party with your friends. With this, you’re determined to finally win the contest against reigning champ Satoru Gojo, who always wears the same sweater every year, one that plainly has the word “HO” stitched on it.

You stand beside your husband, beaming at the mirror, admiring your outfits. “What do you mean? It’s an ugly sweater party! This is perfect!”

He pinches at the sides of it, cringing at how each movement emits a ringing that’s already grating on his ears. “It’s so…loud.”

You shimmy, sounding like a tambourine. “I know, isn’t it great?!” You grab onto his hips, forcing him to sway with you. “Come on, sweetie! Are you going to be naughty or nice for me tonight?” you tease him.

He finally cracks a smile, giving into your silliness by wiggling in place ever-so-slightly to produce a jingle. You giggle, sliding your arms around his neck, giving him a big smooch on the lips. “Thank you. You’ve been a very good boy this year.”

He lingers on your lips, voice low and sultry now. “How about you? Are you going to be a good girl for me tonight?”

You bite your lip. “Kento…”

Soon, the both of you are naked from the waist down, ugly sweaters still intact. You’re bent over the edge of the bed, legs spread apart, ass cheeks stinging from Nanami harsh slaps on your flesh, enjoying the way it jiggles with each solid smack. “Good girl,” he says, squeezing your cheeks in his firm grip.

You can’t help but think this is some sort of payback for making him wear the ugly sweater, though you don’t mind it one bit. “Fuck me, Kento,” you whine, pussy already wet from foreplay.

“Not yet,” he growls, turning you over to face him, laying you flat on the mattress. “Your good boy is going to be very naughty first.” He dives into your arousal, licking your clit with long strokes of his tongue, lubed-up fingers pumping in and out of your slit. You squirm in pleasure, the bells of your sweater ringing with each little twist of your pliant body, yielding to his every touch. He puckers his lips around your swelling bud, sucking on it until you’re gushing all over his face.

The cacophony only gets more intense when he’s pounding you from behind, you on all fours, him slamming into you. Each thrust produces a new chime adding to whatever symphony of sex you’re creating in the bedroom. After your third orgasm, Nanami flips you over one last time, a wicked grin on his lips, relishing the fucked-out expression on your face as he strokes his cock fast in his fist. “Naughty girl, getting our sweaters all filthy. I guess it won’t hurt if I get them a little messier, right?” He moans, shooting his load onto you, spilling his seed all over the bells and tinsel.

You’re absolutely certain now that this is revenge for the whole ugly sweater thing, though you don’t let it deter you. After carefully hand washing it, the two of you manage to win this year’s ugly sweater contest, and Nanami can no longer contain the hard-on he has as you parade around in it, reminding him of when you first christened it. He rushes home that night to fuck you once again in that sweater, finally making his peace with it.

#nanami kento #nanami smut #nanami kento smut #kento nanami smut #nanami x reader #nanami x you #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami fluff #nanami kento fluff #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #nanami drabbles

600 notes · View notes

yngtort · 5 months

Text

— fucking friends

NSFW ★

──────────

Xfem!reader : in which felix can’t stand watching you be all clingy with another man, even though you’re just friends.

You and felix are fuck buddies. casual lovers if you wanna be polite about it.

But that was it, that’s all.

Just friends who fucked because you’re too lonely to be alone, but too emotionally unavailable to be in a relationship.

You knew it and so did Felix.

So why did seeing you at a party, wrapped up around hyunjin bother him so much?

He couldn’t be jealous, there was no way. You both very clearly established that this was strictly platonic, no emotional ties to one another. Felix had even boasted about he could never fall in love with you— “me? Like you?” He laughed in your face.

This wasn’t jealousy, he just didn’t like the fact that you’re fucking around— while y’all was fucking around. Although, you both never said that this an exclusive thing. And it surely wasn’t a problem when Felix was laid up with a couple models a month ago.

So what was his problem? He couldn’t figure it out.

But he hated the way you pressed yourself against hyunjins side, letting him hold and massage your waist— or when you stood on your tippy toes to whisper in his ear. Something slutty too, he can tell by the look in your eyes.

He didn’t understand why, but every bone in his body was aching to rip you away from that blonde motherfucker, find the nearest wall, and—

“Oi, earth to Felix.” Chris waved his hands in front of his face. “Were you even listening to me? Hello? anybody home??”

“Yeah, yeah.” Felix barely replied, nor spared Chris a glance.

The older turned his head, trying to figure out what was so important— until he saw it. you and hyunjin, faces so close that y’all could practically kiss at any moment. Chris whipped his head back to Felix, a knowing smirk on his lips.

“Yknow if you keep looking at her like that she might explode.��

Felix scoffed, “I was not looking at her.”

“Uh huh, sure” Chris snickered, giving his shoulder a strong pat. not only did he know about you and Felix’s sexcapades, but he also knew about the raging love boner he had for you. Too bad felix was too blind to see it for himself.

“So you’re just gonna let em steal your girl?” He asked, chucking a thumb back at the two in question.

“She’s not my girl.” Felix said through a sigh, “she’s just y/n.”

“Yeah, y/n that you fuck and feed every other day.”

Felix rolled his eyes, “whatever.”

As the party progressed, you and hyunjin just kept getting closer and closer. It was hell for Felix to witness— especially now since you’re all gathered at a table, playing an intense game of beer pong.

Felix had a clear view, watching with a bitter look as hyun stayed behind you. His hands rested at your hips while you slightly sway to the music playing in the background.

“Your turn, lix.” Chris said, passing the ball to him.

He just tossed it. He really couldn’t care less if it made it in or not, that wasn’t his priority. But if you, my dear reader, want to know— the ball bounced right off the edge of the cup.

“Chug, chug, chug” the table chanted as Felix downed the alcohol.

When the cup leaves his lips, his eyes catches your doey ones. It was only for a moment but there was that glint in your irises. One that meant you were up to no good. No telling what it was though.

a couple more rounds and each team was drunk, you visibly being the most intoxicated than everyone.

“This is my song!” You gushed, “cmon, let’s go dance.” Hyunjin followed you to the floor with no hesitation.

Felix Hated every second of this damn song. Not because it sucked, no- the lyrics are great. it was because he’s fucked you plenty of times to it. The song had silently became something sacred to the both of you. And now you’re bumping and grinding against hyunjin to it. what the fuck is your problem, Felix wondered.

when the tune switched, the ravenette expected you to come back to the table, but no. Instead you stood on the tips of your toes and whispered something into hyunjins ears. There you go again, being the slut that you are.

He watched as the olders eyebrows raised before flashing a dangerous grin. Hyunjin slid his hand into yours and pulled you off somewhere.

Somewhere probably with less people.

Somewhere dark.

Somewhere where he could touch you.

“Fuck.” Felix cursed, crushing the cup in his hands.

Chris eyed the younger and was about to ask what was wrong, but before he could— Felix was storming off behind you.

It was hard to keep up through the crowd of people. He lost you a couple times, but he caught the shadow of you disappearing into one the halls.

Felix rounded the corner sharply, too sharp. He almost smacked into to you completely, had it not been for the hand you held out to keep him from doing so.

“Y/n? I thought-“ his words got caught in his throat. “Where’s hyunjin?”

Felix watches the corners of your lips tug up smugly. “why?” You inquired, tilting your head to the side.

“I saw you run off with him.” He said.

“Yea, I did.” You comfirmed, fixing the collar of his shirt. You’re so close— he loved the smell of your perfume. “but that doesn’t concern you, does it ?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Oh but it is, lix.” She patted his shoulder. “I saw how you were looking at me all night.”

“I wasn’t.” “You were.”

Felix pressed his lips into a line. There was no point of arguing about it. “So, what? What’s wrong with that?”

You’re stepped back with a small chuckle, “nothing. It’s just fun seeing you jealous.”

His jaw clenched.

“I’m not jealous.”

“Yet followed me all the way here.” You tapped your cheek, lips pouted— you’re so sarcastic. Fuck.

“Well, if you’re not here for me then I better go find hyun.” You said before turning on your heels.

It only took a few seconds before you heard his steps right behind you. the wind was knocked out of your chest as he pushed you against the wall. You hissed, “felix-“

“Shut it, slut.” He growled, hands hungrily roaming under your skirt. His head dipped into your neck so he can bite and suck on your supple skin til it turned dark.

He ignored how you whimpered in pain, hands desperately gripping onto his leather jacket. You deserved it for acting like a bitch in heat. wrapping yourself around his friends like that— damn, he couldn’t wait to fuck you up.

“Since when did you become so easy?” He said against your skin. His fingers rubbed you through your panties, slick already coating him. He pulled them to the side, “Look at you. Don’t tell me you got riled up by hyunjin.”

“N-no. ” You stuttered out, back arching off the wall as he rolled that bundle of nerves between his fingers. “It’s because of you, lix.”

He chuckled lowly, watching as your thighs clamp around his wrist. “And how am I supposed to believe the words of a whore, hmm? wanna prove it to me?”

You nodded Dumbly, pretty little lips unable to form words. Felix grinned, happy to see you submitting so easily. He flipped you around, demanding your hands onto the wall.

His fingers looped around that frilly little fabric and pulled them down. You suck in a breath as the cold air meets Your sensitive skin. It didn’t help that you were sopping wet, nearly dripping down your legs. You reach behind you, trying to pull your skirt down but Felix slaps your hands away.

“did I tell you to take your hands off the wall?” He snapped and once again, you just nodded.

That was only cute the first time around.

His hand come in contact with your ass, making you gasp. “Words, use your fucking mouth before I do.”

“‘Mm sorry.” You slurred out, tears brimming your eyes from the stinging.

“Good,” You could hear him unzipping his pants from behind and before you know it, his tip is being pressed at your entrance.

He pushed inside agonizingly slow, letting you recognize the difference between each inch until his thighs are against yours.

“you take my dick so well….I fit perfectly.” Felix said as he admired the view of his member being nuzzled so deep inside of you. Something only he’ll only get to see.

He reeled his hips back, pulling out fully and slamming back into you. You almost drop to your knees, but Felix’s wraps a strong arm around you.

Your moans filled the hallways of the house party. If someone was to stray away from the crowd— or if the music stopped playing for a second— they would definitely hear your cries.

“Slutty little girl, letting me fuck you out in the out in the open. Are you asking for someone to catch us?”

Honestly, you can’t even focus on what he was talking about. too busy being dumbed down by his dick as it stabs your gspot. You’re drooling, legs shaking, and mumbling out weak pleads for more. So fucking needy to till you’re taking authority into your own hands, fucking your self back on his dick like it’s your own personal toy.

“Dick hungry bitch.” He glowered, pulling you up against his chest by your hair. “you’re so desperate, it’s embarrassing.”

“Lix please,” you cried- body ready to cave at his very command. “I’m so close.”

“Do you actually think you deserve to cum after your behavior?” He snapped, hand moving from your hair to your neck with a squeeze. “You wanted to fuck hyunjin so bad and yet here you are, drooling all over me.”

“I’m sorry. ‘Didn’t mean it” tears rolled down your cheeks as your core ached, stomach in a heavy knot. “just wanted your attention.”

Felix laughed at your confession, “so you planned this from the start? when did you get so smart?”

He caressed your stomach with his free hand, loving the way it bulged from how he deeply he was settled inside you. “I guess, I could let you off the hook if you’re gonna be this cute about it. “

“Please…I won’t do it again” You pleaded through your sobs.

Felix smiled hearing your words, no matter if the were true or not. Because in the end, he could just fuck you in front of everyone so they know who you belong to.

“Go on then.” He encouraged, pounding into you ruthlessly, lips on your neck as he raced his high against yours. “Cum around my dick like the little slut you are.”

When both of your peaks hit, it’s devastatingly hard. Felix fills you up with his white stripes and you worry about the mess it’ll make when he pulls out.

“Don’t let a single drop hit the floor.” He whispers into your ear.

“I-I can’t.”

“You can and will.” He says, slipping out of you slowly. He watches in amusement as you squeeze your thighs tightly, hole probably clenched, trying to keep his seed inside.

And you’re like that, as he leads you out the hallway, past the crowd— until you’re in his care seat, painting his black seats white.

“told you I couldn’t hold it.”

#kpop fanfic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #straykids x reader #stray kids x y/n #kpop imagines #stray kids smut #lee felix #felix x reader #stray kids felix #felix smut

598 notes · View notes

lilgoblinbitch · 17 days

Text

Gossip 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

rick grimes x fem!reader

a/n: i based this fic on this post here! i might make a part 2 because i have some ideas in the back of my head of how i think this story could end up going eventually, but idk if i will write it yet. we'll see! also i made up the two random alexandrians in this story :)

summary: rick overhears you and some alexandrian women gossiping, and he decides to confront you.

warnings: 18+, alcohol consumption (reader gets drunk).

wc: 1.5k

“Spencer does not like me, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You scoffed, taking another sip of the pinot. This was your second glass, and your head was starting to buzz.

Two Alexandrian women became well acquainted with you, offering you a bottle of wine and some dinner after your first week in Alexandria. You decided “why the hell not.” You never really had great friends before the apocalypse and the only ones you had were the group you came in with, so it wouldn’t harm you to make more.

“Oh honey, did you not notice the way he was ogling you at Deanna’s party?” One of them asked — her name was Shannon. The other woman, Vivian, slightly chuckled, taking one last swig from her glass. She nodded, muttering something in agreement.

You sighed. “Even if he was checking me out, it’s not like I care anyway...”

The two women paused simultaneously, looking up at you with ‘bitch, HUH?’ written on their faces. “Y/n, Spencer is a beautiful man! He’s tall, handsome, and he’s around your age I believe,” Vivian gushed. You scowled, displeased at the comment.

You took another gulp from your glass, emptying the contents down your gullet and then setting it on the kitchen island. After licking your lips clean, you said, “Well, frankly, I don't really care if I’m being quite honest.” Your mind swirled with inebriated thoughts; you sort of had a love-hate relationship when it came to alcohol — it either made you perfectly giddy and sociable or very angsty and erratic. But that’s what it did to most people, anyway. Right now, it was making you angsty. “I have someone else on my mind.”

“Oh, my! Okay, who is it?” Shannon asked, her and Vivian both on the edge of their chairs anticipating what you were about to say — well, what they expected you to tell them, that is.

You thought for a moment; should you tell them? It seemed like they lived for that kind of gossip. But that could mean that they might spill your secret, and you weren't exactly ready for that. “I’ll tell you another time. I’m tired, gonna head to bed,” you stated, yawning as you got up from the stool you were seated on. The two women groaned in disappointment, like children who failed to convince their parents to take them to disney world.

After your friends left you strutted out of the kitchen, about to head upstairs when you heard a door open and shut. Instinctively you ran back to the kitchen to grab a knife to defend yourself from a possible intruder or walker, but before you could your body collided with something, or rather someone.

You cursed and looked up at the culprit; it was none other than Rick Grimes. “Rick, what the fuck! I could have stabbed you!” You scolded him, picking up the knife that clattered on the ground.

“You forget we live together?” He teased, taking a step back to get a good look at you. Your eyes were glassy and eyelids heavy — a telltale sign that you were drunk. Rick had experience pulling over a few drunkards back in his day as a cop, so he knew immediately without even having to smell the alcohol oozing from your breath that you weren’t sober.

You pushed a strand of hair out of your face, swallowing the excess saliva forming in your mouth. You mentally scolded yourself for drooling over a man, but this one was just too beautiful to not gawk at. The sound of Rick clearing his throat snapped you out of your trance and brought you back to reality. “No, no. I didn’t forget. I just…”

“You’re just drunk, right?” He chuckled, turning his head to look at the empty bottle of wine sitting on the dining room table. You rolled your eyes, taking a bite of your lip while trying to think of a plausible excuse.

“Look, I only had two glasses. Shannon and Vivian from a few houses down brought us a casserole and some pinot. Girls’ night. Sue me, Rick.” You slipped past him and headed to the kitchen, Rick hot on your tail. “There’s leftovers in the fridge, if you or Carl want any,” You said without turning around. When you got to the kitchen sink you started washing the dishes, but you frowned slightly, looking back up at Rick with worrying eyes.

“Shit. Did I wake the kids? Is that why you’re down here?” You turned off the faucet, wiping your hands hastily on a dry towel.

Rick shook his head. “No. Only I heard you. But you weren’t very quiet, and when I heard them leave that’s when I came down here,” he explained, leaning against the kitchen counter.

Your heart picked up its pace. ‘How much did he hear?’ You wondered. You pursed your lips and your eyes floated around the room, quite obviously avoiding his intense stare. He made you nervous. That sheriff always made you nervous, and part of the reason was because you were so utterly attracted to him.

Finally you brought your eyes back to his icy ones, which were studying your body. You blushed and bit your lip again — it was a nervous habit you could never seem to break. “You got a stain–” Rick pointed to the red stain on your shirt, just below your breasts, “Right there.”

You looked down at the stain, it was wine — dark red wine, at that. And you were wearing a white tank top. How convenient.

You looked back up at him, snorting in slight amusement. “Guess I shouldn’t have worn white, huh?”

He let out a low chuckle, showcasing his pearly smile. God, he was pretty. “Thought you knew better than that, Y/n,” he joked, standing back up fully to make his way over to you. Okay, now your heart was really beating fast.

When he was finally in front of you, face to face, you gulped. He smelled like the forest after a rainshower, and somehow he always did; it engulfed you like a tsunami. You berated yourself for getting so worked up over the smell of him, and just him in general. He was your leader, your friend. And he asked you to live with him and his children because he trusted you. Why were you acting like a cat in heat? ‘It’s the alcohol’, you convinced your mind, it had to be…

The silence was too loud. You had no idea what Rick was thinking right now; frankly, you never did. His poker face was always unreadable. But your tipsy brain gained a few confidence points, letting smugness wash over you.

“Whatcha thinking about, Grimes?” You shifted your weight to one leg and batted your lashes at the man in front of you. He only grinned, then glanced away momentarily only to stare back into your eyes.

“Y’know, I overheard the conversation,” Rick started, his chest steadily moving up and down as he breathed. One of his hands gripped the counter while the other was glued to his hip. Your eyes trailed up and down his tanned veiny arms, taking in his manliness.

“Mhm. And?” You kept your composure, not wanting to let Rick taunt you; you knew you talked pretty loud when you were tipsy or drunk but it’s not like you said anything negative about him or anyone.

“You girls like to gossip, huh?”

“Well, yeah. We’re women,” you joked, cracking a smile and trying to ease the tension a bit. “What are you trying to get at?” Rick never bothered to indulge in any girl gossip you, Rosita, and Maggie used to partake in, so why was he so invested now?

Little did you know, he was always invested in literally anything you had to say.

Rick licked his lips and exhaled through his nose. “Heard you talking about liking someone. Is it anyone I know?”

He smirked when he noticed how red you turned. Your face would have matched the stain on your shirt if it was a few shades darker. “I– I don’t…” Of course now was the time to choke on your words, right when you were using every fiber of your being to keep your poise in check. But goddamnit, Rick just had to be a sly and cocky bastard.

“I don’t remember even saying anything about that, Rick.”

His smirk never faded. You wanted to slap it off his face, then kiss the hell out of him.

He tilted his head to the side a bit, furrowing his brows as if to challenge your statement. “Really?”

You nodded and crossed your arms right over the stain. ‘Deny, deny, deny,’ You repeated in your head.

But he didn’t buy your bullshit. He brought his hand to your cheek, fingers barely grazing your skin as if he was afraid he’d scare you away. Your breath hitched in your throat and subsequently dropped your arms to your sides, separating your lips to say something. However, nothing came out.

“Well, I think I know your secret, Y/n. Answer seems pretty clear to me.” His voice almost came out as a growl from how low and raspy it was. Goosebumps awakened all across the surface of your body. You were tongue tied.

“I’m the one on your mind, aren’t I?”

212 notes · View notes

miyuhpapayuh · 8 months

Text

𝖇𝖗𝖆𝖙

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩ ☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩ ☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩ ☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩ ☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩ ☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

"Come on," snatching her arm up, he pulls her down the long hallway, into their bedroom. Her tense body hits the soft bed with a thud.

"Erik—"

"Did I ask you to fuckin' speak?" He snaps at her and she closes her mouth, rolling her eyes at him.

"Get up." She scoots towards the edge of the bed and stands up, smoothing her hands over her exposed thighs.

Stalking the short distance towards, his index finger and thumb capture her jaw, roughly.

"What the fuck did I tell you, 'fore we left this house?" She sucks her teeth. His grip tightens.

"Use your words, brat."

"Don't start a fight with them bitches."

"Mhm. And, what did your bratty ass go and do? Huh?" She rolls her eyes, again.

"I did what I had to do, Erik. I'm just supposed to watch bitches fawn over you, in my fucking face?!" Moving his grip down to her neck, he silences her.

"Ain't nobody worried about them. You're my business, I told you that, already. Stop fucking causing scenes over unnecessary shit."

She tries to pry his hand away from her. "It's not unnecessary—"

"The hell it ain't! This is the second time, I've had to pull you off a bit—"

"Maybe, they should keep their comments to themselves and there wouldn't be a prob—"

"Shut the fuck up!" Her eyes widened for a second, trying to figure out if he really just yelled at her.

"Who the fuck are you talking to, Erik? Cause, I know it ain't me." He gives her a grim smirk and lets her neck go.

"Oh, I'm definitely talking to you. You talk too fuckin' much." He pulls his shirt off and points to the bed.

"Sit." Her attitude still in full effect, she calls him a bitch underneath her breath and sits down.

"Fuck you say?" She gives him the same smirk he gave her, saying absolutely nothing.

"Aight." Yanking her up, he sits on the bed and places her over his knee. Of course, she tries to get up but his grip won't let her.

"Stay fuckin' still." Sliding his big in between them, he unbuttons her shorts and tugs them away from her more than plump ass.

"I don't know how many times... I have to tell you, fuck them bitches." His hand rubs circles over her left cheek.

"Why won't you just listen to me—"

"You don't even listen to me— ow!" His hand collides with her backside, catching them both off guard.

"Dammit, girl!" Continuously smacking her reddening cheeks, the inside of her thighs heat up. A damp spot forms.

Pushing her top half towards the ground more, he props her ass up in the air, giving him a great view of between her legs.

"I knew ya nasty ass was wet," his finger glides over her barely covered folds, "fat ass pussy eatin' the fuck out these panties."

She bites her lip to keep her moans in. Pulling her panties off, he throws them in the same direction as her shorts.

"Erik,” she groans,

"How many times do we gotta do this? Hm?" Palming her wet mound, her breath gets caught in her throat.

"Huh?" Smacking her clit with his fingertips, she jerks. That dirty smirk comes back.

"You ain't gon talk to me, now?" She steadies herself so she won't fall, while he continues to assault her sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Errrik— uh!" His index and middle finger slide into her cove, hitting her sweet spot head on.

"Mhmm.. freaky ass. You like when Daddy tease that pussy?" She grabs his leg, as his fingers slowly dip in and out of her.

"Oh fuuuckk! I h-hate it when you tease me!" Speeding up, her grip tightens and the knot in her stomach intensifies.

Her moans ricochet off the walls, delighting Erik. Her thighs tremble. Her walls swallow his fingers with every thrust, sending her very close to her peak.

"You wanna cum, babygirl?"

"Yessss! Please, baby.... please!" She gushes over his fingers, before he can give her the go ahead.

"Mm." Sticking his fingers in his mouth, he groans at her taste, "I'll let it slide, this time." He smacks her ass.

"On your knees, beautiful." After tossing her, more gently, on the bed, she gets into position. Her arch is super deep.

"Oh word? Someone must be sorry." Two heavy smacks collide with her plump cheeks.

"Mm, fuck me." Pulling off his sweats, his dick stands at attention. She licks her lips at the sight.

"Say it, again."

"Fuck me, Daddy." A hand slides between her legs, playing with her clit. She purrs.

He makes his dick jump. Stalking towards her, He smacks her hand away and slowly sinks into her.

"Ssss, fuck!" He pulls almost all the way out, leaving the tip in.

"What's my name?"

"Daddy," she whispers, reaching out to grab the back of his thigh.

"Louder, brat!" Smacking her hand away again, he pushes the middle of her back down further.

"Daddyyy— oh shhhiit!" Sinking back into her, his pace starts off reckless. Gripping her ponytail, he pulls her head back.

"You love this big dick, don't you?" She moans out, uncontrollably. Her nails dig into the bed.

"Yes! Fuckkk yes, baby!" He drives into her like a madman, causing her ass to slap against his thighs, roughly.

"Say it."

"Unh! I... I love that big dick! I love it!" Her hands fly to his waist, trying to keep a distance between them.

"Better move that fuckin' hand." He pushes it away, continuing to drive into her. Her moans turn into screams.

"Daddy fuckin' you good? Shit." Her walls clench around him.

"Yes!"

"Daddy gotta fuck you like this, for you to hear me?"

"Ah shit! Right there! Right—"

Slowing down his strokes, his hand finds the front of her throat, pulling her back into his scarred chest. Her breathing turns ragged. Her shaky hand falls on top of his, squeezing it.

"Erikkk!" Rocking in and out of her, his eyes flutter shut at how tight and wet she is.

"Fuckkk... pussy so good." She lets out a giggle, listening to him praise her.

"Don't be laughin'. Yo bratty ass still in trouble." His strokes become deeper and sharper, catching her off guard.

"I'm sorry— I'll listennnn, shit!"

"What I say bout them bitches?" She hunches forward, fisting the sheets.

"Oh my God...."

"That ain't what I said." Gripping her ponytail again, he yanks her closer, "what I say?"

"Ooou–fuck themmm!"

"Got damn... say my name."

"Daddy! Fuck! Fuck!"

"They out here gettin' this dick? Huh?"

"No! Ouch!" Another smack to her cheek turns it bright red.

"Who's Daddy babygirl?"

"Me! I'm so close!"

"Mhm, I feel that gushy shit." He lets out a grunt.

"Who got that pussy wet?" He tightens his grip on her, speeding back up.

"You! I'm gonna cum!" Her body goes rigid underneath his, crashing towards her peak.

"Cum for Daddy, babygirl."

Her mouth falls open, letting every profanity loose. Her nails dig into his skin.

"Ughhh," cumming right behind her, his body slouches on hers, causing them to fall forward.

"I love yo bratty ass." He presses rough kisses to the side of her face.

@thegifstories @blackerthings @blackpinup22 @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @ghostfacekill-monger @sheabuttahwrites @soufcakmistress @abeautifulmindexposed @awerkofart @nayaxwrites @cecereads209 @harmshake @henneseyhoe @headcannonxgalore @mauvecherie-writes @twistedcharismaaa @consent-is-king

#erik killmonger #killmonger smut #miyuhpapayuh #poc writers #blackwriters #smut #michael b jordan

868 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months

Text

Blind Offer 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a leak causes you to evacuate your apartment, your landlord offers a vacant unit that's too good to be true. (short!plus!reader)

Character: Steve Rogers, additional characters to come

Note: Loooooook. I was gonna restrain myself but this all just got outta hand. This is one of my Corrupt-A-Wish requests but I won't reveal which one right away because it'll be part of the plot!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like I love turning intended one shots into series. Take care. 💖

You keep your slippers just away from the edge of the puddle. The sheet of water extends almost completely across the kitchen. You hug yourself, still slightly groggy from your early and rude awakening. The washing you put in last night hadn’t finished and instead the sudsy mess had leaked out around the door.

There’s a sigh and a clank as your landlord pulls his arm out of the machine. Your sopping laundry is in a bucket by his feet. His shirt is visibly wet from his struggle to stem the steady flow dripping from the brim of the washer door. You worry you may have overloaded the compact stacking unit.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” you say as you sway guiltily.

“Don’t be,” he puts his hands on his hips and blows out. A golden strand dangles down his forehead, “it’s not you. My own fault. I thought these things might hold out for a while…”

“Oh?”

“Not the first time I’ve had to fight the beast but it worked. I should be sorry, I should’ve just replaced it.”

“Well, uh, what are you gonna do now?” You look at the wet tile, the scent of laundry detergent thick in the air as the water creeps closer to your slippers.

“Uh, yeah, well, obviously you can’t stay here.”

��I can’t?” You raise your head, running your hand up the front of your robe and clutching the fluffy fabric.

“No, bylaws say you need to evacuate until I can get a new unit in here. And clean up. Leak like this can leave mildew and mold,” he combs his large hand over his head, “I feel bad enough, I couldn’t let you live in this.”

“Okay… um, I have to work in a couple hours–”

“Oh, geez. Well, er, maybe just pack up a few things and I can take you over to the new place? You can always come back to grab more if you need.”

“I guess…” you chew your lip. His blue eyes fixate on the gesture so you stop. “How far is it?”

“Not very, about twenty minutes east by car.”

“East?” You utter dully, “that’s a bit far. I work up near the metro area.”

“There’s some bus stops that way but I could give you a lift tod–” There’s a sudden gush and he looks back to the machine, a bubble of water flowing up over the brim. He shuts the door, stemming much of it. “You won’t even be able to cook in here,” he says, “look, bylaws say I have to relocate you. I have a property free which means I don’t have to splurge for a hotel. If you prefer somewhere closer, then it’s on you.”

You frown. He’s not the worst landlord you’ve had but he definitely talks like one. He’s only really worried about his liability. Yet, most others wouldn’t have even brought up that clause and left you to wallow in this puddle of dirty laundry water. You shrug, hopefully the other place isn’t too bad.

“Right, uh, I guess I’ll go get dressed,” you relent.

“Great,” he says with blatant exasperation, turning back to face the trembling washer, his voice deflating to a hoarse rasp, “goddamn.”

You hesitate as you stare at his back. The gray fabric of his jersey henley strains across his shoulder blades as the back of his forearms clench, veins pulsing out. He rolls his head on his neck and heaves out again.

You turn on your foot and slowly pad out of the kitchen. You hear his sole squeak subtly but refuse to glance back again. You can’t help but feel that it’s all your fault. You’re sure he’s too nice to say so. Or too distracted by the chaos you’ve caused.

🖤

The new apartment isn’t an apartment at all. It’s a walkup townhouse with a sleek black and white exterior. The neighbourhood is far out of your range but you won’t complain. You suspect Steve is already aware of the deferential.

“Wow, this place is really nice,” you say as he holds the door for you. You step inside and take in the space; a narrow staircase to the next floor, black frames around grayscale photography, and minimalist decor in the form of a standing geometric floor vase and a coat rack with bent arms.

You stop to take your shoes off on the mat as Steve squeezes in behind you and shuts the door. You trip away from him, surprised by the friction of his body against yours. You’ve always been overly aware of yourself and how much room you take up. Your size makes it hard to not feel crowded, still the close brush rattles you.

He swirls the keys around a finger and stills them in his fist. He looks around emphatically and waves a hand.

“Well, this is it. It’s my only vacant property at the moment, so, it’ll have to do. Fully furnished, at least.”

“It’s great,” you assure him as you step further in, your duffel hanging heavy from one arm, “wow, it’s…”

“A lot bigger than your place. Yeah. New development. Invested at ground floor. You’ll be the first tenant, at least for the time being.”

“Ah, right,” you go to the narrow bench of black acrylic and place your bag atop it. “I’ll try not to mess it up.”

“Didn’t mean it like that.”

“Uh, yeah, but obviously it’s above my paygrade,” you scoff, “I appreciate it and sorry again.”

“Don’t worry about it. Really. Dropping a couple hundred on a new washer woulda saved us both trouble. I only got one person to blame,” he holds out his hand, “you don’t need a tour, do ya?” He offers the keys and you step up to take them, “I’ll be back around noon to get you to work but I got running around to do.”

“Um, I should be able to figure it out–”

“Oh, wait,” he puts a finger up, “the door code. Just in case. Also, you’ll wanna override the security system when you get in.” He turns and points to the sleek black box mounted beside the door, “I got it on my phone but you’ll just need to pop it open and put in the number.” He slides out his phone, “I’ll just text it before I forget.”

“Right,” you nod as you clutch the keys tight, “got it. I think I can manage.”

“Anyway, you got my number, you need anything, you know how to reach me,” he checks his watch, “noon,” he repeats as he points at you, “I’ll be back.”

He spins and opens the door, swiftly stepping through before swinging it shut behind him. You’re left slightly stunned and don’t move right away. You cross the floor and twist the latch of the door, a cautious habit likely unnecessary in this neighbourhood.

You turn back to your new abode and let your eyes rove. Wow. All this just for you. You wonder how much one of these places go for. Your monthly pay probably wouldn’t even cover a single week.

You shuffle forward, uncertain, expecting for Steve to come back through and tell you it’s all a mistake.

You peer around at the immaculate decor. Each piece is perfectly set and carefully curated. The long leather sectional and the matching square backed armchairs before the artificial fireplace in the wall. A low coffee table on a rug patterned in black and white, a touch of red in the throw pillows and the curtains.

Then the kitchen, white, pure marble, and pale silver appliances. The tile is marked by subtle dove grey diamonds, and a table sits against the wall with two chairs. You go back into the hallway and down towards the front of the stairs. You peek up at the top as you pass the small half-bath embedded on the other side.

Upstairs, you find two bedrooms, a full bath, and what appears to be a study, along with several spacious closets. It’s truly a dream. Who knew a broken washer could get you a stay in heaven.

Well, you should get settled in. Enjoy it while it lasts.

🖤

As promised, Steve shows up just before noon. You have your uniform on but feel less than ready to go. The abrupt awakening, the displacement, and the typical dread of the overcrowded box store. Your job is less than glamorous and the townhouse underlines that even more as you bid it a reluctant goodbye.

Steve’s car is sleek and red and overpriced. You don’t know much about cars but you can just tell. The interior is squeaky and so clean you’re sure it must be right off the lot. That new car smell fills your nose and threatens to inspire a migraine.

You put your purse in your lap and buckle up as he turns down the volume on the stereo. You recognise the song, surprised by his taste. He didn’t seem the angsty type. As far from grungy as you can imagine.

“Smashing Pumpkins?” You comment.

“You don’t like them?”

“Don’t mind em,” you shrug, “just figured you were more into… I don’t know, just not them.”

“When I’m not unclogging toilets or changing smoke alarms, I actually do have fun,” he scoffs.

“Oh, I didn’t mean–”

“Kidding,” he assures you as he pulls away from the curb.

You watch the townhouses pass by as he slowly rolls down the street. It’s eerie. There are no other cars lined up in the spots parallel to the pavement. In fact, you don’t see anyone else around. Not through windows, not coming or going, no one so much as walking down the cul-de-sac. It is oddly isolated from the suburbs all around.

“Not like I have great music taste, I’m a disco junkie,” you try to laugh off the tension.

“Fun,” he muses dully.

You don’t respond. You’re on your phone checking Uber prices for the way back. Eek. You pull up the bus routes for the area; at least two transfers to get there. Shit.

“So…” Steve begins, “who you chatting with? Telling them about your tight-ass landlord or what?”

“Uh, no,” you put your phone down and black the screen, “I was just… tryna figure out how I’m getting home. Sorry. Did you say something?”

“Nothing important,” he assures, “what time are you done?”

“Nine, closing,” you explain, “it’s fine, there’s buses. I’ll just have to remember not to go to my usual stop.”

“I can come get you,” he offers.

“That’s… that’s fine. You don’t have to. You’ve already done enough–”

“Really, I don’t have much else going on. Besides the washer but my buddy’s taking care of that for me. I’ll be available.”

“If you don’t mind, but really, I’m gonna have to learn the route. Actually, when do you think I’ll be back at my apartment?”

“Couple of days at best. After we left, the water got into the motor of the dryer– to spare you the whole spiel, the dryer needs to be replaced too. And the floor might need to come up, water’s done a number on the laminate–”

“Oh,” you grimace, “I… that sounds bad.”

“Nothing that can’t be fixed. Look, I know it’s probably not ideal for you to be all the way out here. I’ll keep you updated,” he speaks with one hand as his other remains on the wheel.

“Oh, no, I appreciate all your help. It’s just…” you cross your ankles and nervously wiggle your foot, “I’m just anxious.”

He hums and a thoughtful silence rises between you. He turns a corner and clears his throat, “about the apartment or work?”

“What?”

“What are you anxious about?” He asks.

“Oh, uh, yeah, uh, work, sure. Work always makes me anxious. Lots of angry customers and we’re headed into that season, you know?”

“Makes sense,” he nods, moving his hand low on the wheel as he sits back and steers lazily with the clogged flow of the city traffic.

“And the apartment,” you admit, “I’m not the best with change.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he agrees, “I’m a bit of stickler. I like order, you know? Everything has its place. Everyone has their role.”

You mull his words. It’s a strange way of putting it but you get it. You find your life erratic this time of year, when your schedule goes from predictable to hectic and fluid. Everyone wants to switch shifts and all the managers are trying to fill the schedule with as few bodies as possible.

“I mean…” he breaks the lull, “you know, I keep a pretty strict schedule with myself. Try to. You never know when you’ll get a call at 5am.”

You suck in air and look at him from the corner of your eye. His allusion isn’t subtle. The pit sinks further in your stomach. You don’t need one more person disappointed in you, not when you’re about to face Gwen the manager and her omnipotent clipboard.

“Yeah, uh,” you bend your arm and rub your neck, “sorry…”

“You apologise a lot,” he interrupts, “I’m not mad.”

“I know, I just feel bad,” you move your thumb to chew it.

He glances over at you before quickly refocusing on the road. He laughs, a hollow, gristly chuckle, “trust me, if I was mad, you would know.”

You blink. What? You’re not sure what he means. Is he joking? Maybe it’s that he’s such a nice guy that the change would be unmistakable or maybe he’s being sarcastic and you’re too stupid to pick up on it. Either way, you just want this car ride to be over.

“Right,” you eke out, “I’ll, erm, be sure to stay on your good side then.”

He slides his hand around the wheel to the top, squeezing until the leather squeaks. He shifts in his seat and exhales, “girl like you, I can’t imagine you being too much of a handful.”

His remark sticks in your ears. Again, you’re confounded by him. You can't read his tone as it's quickly washed away by the sudden blare of music as he cranks up the volume.

“This is a good one,” he calls over the music, “I’m sure you know it.”

Despite all my rage, I am still just a rat in a cage Despite all my rage, I am still just a rat in a cage Someone will say, "What is lost can never be saved" Despite all my rage, I am still just a rat in a cage

Now I'm naked Nothing but an animal But can you fake it For just one more show?

The creaky tones of Billy Corgan’s lilt surrounds you as Steve bobs his head. The swirl of noise and the shadow of tension mingle and suffocate you. You’re starting to look forward to work.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #corrupt-a-wish #au #multifandom #captain america #avengers #marvel #mcu #more characters to be added #blind offer

466 notes · View notes

fayesia · 5 months

Note

Can u write a Josh Futturman smut? literally no one writes him. Maybe one where he walks in on reader…. having private alone time ;)

Director — Josh Futterman x roommate!reader

warnings: nsfw 18+, caught masturbating, squirting, pillow riding, lmk if there’s anything else!!

“oh fuck…yessss” you moaned, writhing around in your mass of sheets, one hand gripping at a pillow beside you while the other was in between your legs working hard to get you closer to climax.

You thought you were home alone.You were wrong.

Josh walked around the house heading towards your room to ask what food to order for dinner. That’s when he heard it, soft muffles of your voice echoed outside of your room. He thought you had some ‘company’ over but that’s when he heard it.

“omg yes please…josh…yes”

just as he had turned on his heel to return to his room he heard your sweet voice moaning his name, what other josh did you know?

Quietly he made his way back to your room the door slightly ajar, widening as he pushed it open enough for him to slide through. The sight in front of him had him immediately hardening in his pants, an obvious bulge forming.

You tossed around burying your face into the pillows, whispers of josh’ name mixed in with some moans fell from your mouth as you climaxed, white flashes were all you saw in your orgasmic bliss.

Finally you slumped back down against the mattress regaining your breath.

“quite a show you put on, worth every second to stand here though”

With a yelp you yanked the covers up to your nose “how long have you been standing there, trust me it’s not what it looks like.”

“oh i’m sure i know exactly what i saw, how about we put on another show…except this time i can do the directing”

“huh what do you mean..”

“that pillow next to you, grab it for me”

reaching beside you you took hold of a pillow.

“now i want you to ride it”

“what?!”

“you heard me, i’m not gonna ask again, and trust me you’ll be rewarded, does that sound good?”

you nod placing the pillow between your legs while you kneel over it.

“words baby”

“yes yes sounds good”

you’re already needy again after just recovering from your orgasm, just about prepared to do anything this man was asking you to do.

Josh stood at the foot of the bed instructing you about what to do.

“now rock yourself back and forth baby, just like you would do on my dick”

pushing down against the pillow you felt your pussy dripping with liquid, the juices soaking the material providing better friction for your clit. Looking up your eyes widened watching Josh stroke his dick.

The man you had just thought about to have an orgasm, was now standing in front of you masturbating while you rode a pillow.

His fist wrapped tightly around his large dick, the tip was red and swollen, veins ran along the sides of it and the girth had you worried. “i don’t think it’s gonna fit in me Josh” you panted out through your movements.

“no no we’re gonna make it fit, need to feel that pussy wrapped around me” his words sounded closer and as you opened your eyes you found that he had moved from the end of your bed towards the side of you, eyes following your movements atop of the pillow. His free hand reached out grabbing at your breast, calloused fingers tugged at your nipples, the sharp stinging only pushing further over the edge, closer to release. As you came on top of the pillow liquid gushed from your pussy soiling the pillow beneath you, at the same time Josh was cumming too. His dick produced strings of thick white cum, it splattered all over you from your chin to your breast and all the way down to the top of your pussy, the two of you watching as it dripped down to where you clit met the pillow.

“well, seems like you’d make a great director Mr futturman”

~unedited~

#smut #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson smut #josh futturman #josh futturman smut #future man #future man smut

310 notes · View notes

shadowlali · 2 months

Text

honey and vanilla

COD AU - Alejandro Vargas x fem!reader

[18+] wc: ~900 summary: Alejandro spends time with the woman he loves. masterlist

warnings: NSFW, some proofreading, no use of Y/N nor details on reader’s appearance, discussions of death and murder, discussions of cartel violence, sex work, angst, possibly unrequited love, unprotected sex, creampie

a/n: For @glitterypirateduck writing challenge “Amor a Alejandro!” I used prompt 30. You're the only one I trust to do this. Angst is definitely something I want to write more about. This is, I think, the first time I write it, but I hope I get inspired in the future to do more!

“Mi vida,” Alejandro groans, “made just for me.”

His fingers grip your thigh, making indents in the soft skin. He thrusts in so slowly, sliding through the creamy mess of your fluttering cunt.

“Tell me, tell–me, please,” he pleads.

“I’m yours,” you whine, “just for you.”

Bites and half-moon nail marks cover his back, chest and neck. You mark him like you own him. He speeds up, bottoming out, hoping he reaches deep enough that he ruins you for every other man. You clench tight, hungry for more as he fucks you hard into the mattress.

Alejandro switches from chanting your name to moaning take it, mi vida, take it, like the good girl you are. And you do, you always do. You spread your thighs impossibly wider and drag your fingers over his arms, feeling his muscles ripple from the exertion.

“Princesa, f–fuck,” Alejandro stutters, “te amo, te amo, te amo.” [I love you, I love you, I love you]

I love you, Alejandro, you cry out, I love you. He moves his hips at a punishing pace, slamming into you, feeling the vice grip of your gummy walls suffocate his cock. Your cunt pulses with heat and he knows that you're close.

“Ale–”

“I know, princesa,” Alejandro interrupts, his movements becoming desperate, “come for me, come for me.”

He manages to unsteadily slip a thumb between your thighs and rub fast circles on your swollen clit. Even when he can barely hold himself up from the pleasure, Alejandro always makes sure you finish first.

Your eyes shutter and you ripple and gush around his cock, hands clawing at his arms. Sensitive little thing, he groans, moving his hand to lightly squeeze your neck.

Alejandro forces you to look at him while you come. You know better than to turn to the side, know that the scrunch of your brows and the glassy look in your eyes will push him over the edge.

And it does. Mía, mía, mía, he repeats, filling you up, painting your walls with his thick come. You grip the wrist that holds your neck, holding his hot stare until he collapses into the crook of your neck. You place warm kisses on his temple and ear as your pulse steadies. [Mine, mine, mine]

The honey and vanilla scent of your skin always calms him. Especially in times like these, when missions go south and he loses good—no great, men in the crossfire. A million thoughts swirl in his brain, what could I have done differently, it should have been me, is this fight worth it? But you bring him back, settle the shame and guilt that burns his blood, soothe the rapid pace of his heart.

Your bodies are sticky, sweaty, remnants of your love-making on your thighs and sheets. He moves to lay his head on your bare, soft tummy. Your fingers glide through his thick hair and lightly massage his scalp. Alejandro probably doesn’t deserve this, the softness of your body and the unyielding affection you give him.

“It’s not your fault, Ale,” you whisper, “how would you have known about the ambush?”

“I should’ve known, it’s my job to know these things–it’s my job to prevent these things.”

His voice rises with the last few words, but you keep him in your embrace anyway, continuing to run your hands through his hair. He doesn’t deserve you.

“Cartels are ugly and dangerous, they’ll stop at nothing, nothing, to get what they want, Alejandro. It’s a tragedy what happened, but don’t let them get in your head. Don’t let the death of your soldiers–your brothers be in vain.”

He presses a kiss to your skin, grateful that he came to see you. “You always know what to say, don't you?”

You tug on his hair gently, and whisper no, not always.

“Do you have anyone else to talk to? Like another soldier? War is heavy on the mind, Alejandro.”

Alejandro shakes his head. He can understand where you’re coming from, you don’t want him to do something reckless. “You're the only one I trust to do this–to talk about this. Especially now that I think there’s a mole in my team.”

Alejandro’s eyes glance at the clock on your bedside table, it’s nearing midnight. He needs to go back to base and regroup, go over new strategies and find the mole. His time with you is almost up. There's never enough time to be with you.

“I should go, princesa,” he asks, standing up from the bed to slip on his clothes.

Alejandro takes out an envelope from his jeans pocket and places it on your bedside table. It’s the price you agreed upon last year, and a few extra bills because he likes to spoil you. His heart pinches as he wishes this was real.

But it’s not. The kindness and the warmth you show him is real, but the rest, he pays you to tell him I’m yours and I love you. There’s moments where he tricks himself into thinking that maybe you do belong to him, maybe you do love him.

Even if it’s all fake, he’ll come back to you as long as you let him.

You walk him to the door with your much softer hand linked in his.

“You can call me whenever you want–no charge, Alejandro,” you plead. “we're love–friends. And I care about you so, so much.”

He doesn’t deserve you.

“I will.”

Alejandro places one more kiss on your soft lips and walks out of your home, already counting down the seconds until he can come see you again.

#Amor a Alejandro #alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro vargas x female reader #alejandro vargas smut #cod x reader #cod mw2 x female reader #alejandro vargas #cod mw2 smut #shadowlali

175 notes · View notes

thecuriousquest · 7 months

Note

Can I ask for another mha character (of your choice) with mouth washing punishment? I’ve never seen someone write it aswell as you! And how are u at the moment?? ❤️ x

Dirty Mouth

Platonic Yandere Dad Bakugou x Teen Fem!Reader

Tag List: @issamomma @repostingmyfavs @chickennugnugnug

Warnings: Platonic yandere themes, mouth washing with soap, threats of punishments, mentioning of spanking with a switch

Author’s Note: Aw, stop it, you little rascal. You’re making me blush. 😊 I’m doing great over on the East Coast. I hope you’re doing well, and much love to you! 🖤🤘

Checkout my Master List here.

—————————————————————————

Your “dad”, as he forces you to call him, is busy cooking dinner in the kitchen behind you. You hear him talking about you on the phone to Kirishima, how he’s gushing about your test scores and your good behavior. You’re absolutely fucking sick of it.

Of course you’ve been good! What other choice do you have? It’s either that or be punished by one of the greatest pros in Japan. It makes you sick to your stomach thinking about how he made you cut a switch in the backyard the last time your attitude was “bitchy” as he so graciously put it.

Bakugou brings the conversation to an end, sticking a bowl of ramen in front of you. You have to hand it to the man, he can cook up a storm. However, you’d rather buy the ramen from somewhere than have it given to you by the hand of your captor.

“Thanks,” you tell the blonde while looking at the bowl in front of you.

Fuck, it smells so good, yet you hesitate to dig into the warm deliciousness.

He gruffly sits down at the head of the table before snapping apart a pair of chopsticks. He begins eating.

Katsuki looks at you with a glare when he realizes you haven’t even started.

“What’s wrong?” He doesn’t sound happy.

“Did you put something in it?”

He shrugs as if it’s normal to put something in your kid’s food. “Just something to help relax you. You’ve been on edge ever since you got here.”

“I’ve been on edge? I’VE BEEN ON EDGE? Are you shitting me right now? You’re the one who stole me!”

“I didn’t fucking steal you, and don’t talk to me like that! You were at the police station, and I offered them to take you home so that you wouldn’t end up in a fucking orphanage, so lower your goddamn voice and quit acting like I’m some villain!”

“You are a fucking villain! You put drugs in my food to make me fall asleep, and you force me to do homeschooling, and-”

You rack your brain for more things he’s done to you since you’ve been here, but your “dad” cuts you off.

“Yeah, I’m the bad guy for making sure you don’t turn into an insomniac. I’m such a horrible person for making sure your grades stay up. Keep going, sweetie.”

You swipe at the tears forming in your eyes. God, he makes you feel insane and so damned frustrated!

“I fucking hate you!”

You get up from the table and run towards the stairs when a pair of arms wrap around your torso, lifting you off the ground. Adjusting you in his hold, he tucks you under one arm, snugly against his hip. Your eyes widen as you find yourself looking at the floor.

“Put me down! I don’t like this!”

You cling onto his baggy pants for security. He could let you go at any moment, and you don’t like the thought of landing harshly on your knees if he does.

You hear a door open, and then the large man turns on his heel as he closes it. The familiarity of what’s happening comes rushing back to you, and you try to shut it all out as you are set on your feet.

“I’m too old to be treated like this, Bakugou!” you shout as you clench your fists.

“Shut up, kid. You’re fifteen, and you know better than to call me that. You know better than to cuss at me too.”

He rummages around in the cabinet for your doom. He pulls out something that’s just as bad as the paddle end of a wooden brush: the dreaded bar of soap. The explosion hero gets the bar of soap all sudsy under the running faucet. He shuts off the water and brings the bar up to your lips, and you clamp your mouth shut.

“You wanna do this the hard way?”

Your eyes can only speak for you, and you hope the fear you express in them is enough to sway him.

All he does is grimace at you, his lips set in a firm line. He snatches your jaw, thumb digging into your right cheek while the other four fingers press into your left. The pressure where the line of your teeth meet only grows stronger as you attempt to keep your mouth closed.

However, you know him well enough by now. He won’t give up until he gets what he wants. He never does.

Your sharp cry sounds akin to a beagle’s as he finally pries your mouth open wide enough to shove the soap in. You gag instantaneously at the clean taste of the bar.

Trying to fight against the bulk of muscles leads you nowhere, except being forced to sit on the toilet lid. To your horror, this isn’t even the worst of it. He begins scrubbing the inside of your mouth, washing away all of the filth you’ve been spewing. What a fucking hypocrite.

The bar of soap shreds against your teeth with all of the scrubbing, curling and melting on your tongue. The accumulation of saliva and soap turns into built up foam, causing it to leak from your mouth.

“Lift your tongue up. Do it or I’ll beat your ass.”

No, no more punishment, you try to say. It comes out in a gurgled, incomprehensible mess.

Your “dad” works the bar of soap underneath your tongue. He covers every inch and corner of the cavern. You feel like you’re going to throw up with the amount of gagging you’re going through, but you know that he’ll really kick your ass if you do that.

Your body slumps in defeat, knowing that you can’t get away from him as he holds the back of your neck in a firm grip. There’s nothing you can do to fight him off or get away from him, so you sit there and wail like a six year old with tears, snot, and soap dripping down your face.

With your head pounding from all of the crying and screaming, he finally releases you and tells you to rinse your mouth out.

“You’re lucky I’m not making you finish dinner with your mouth as it is. I could send you to bed like that too you know.”

As tough as he likes to make himself out to be, you know he’d never do that to you. Under all of that macho male bravado, there is a heart, even if it is a little twisted.

Still, you can’t help but feel distraught as you struggle to rid your mouth of the lingering taste. It’s as if every ounce of water you take in causes the amount of bubbles to rise. Eventually, you do spit out the last of the soap, but that clean, funky tang stays with you.

“Alright, that’s enough.”

“But, it won’t go away!”

“You arguing with me?” he inquires as he quirks a blonde eyebrow.

“No, sir.”

Handing you a towel, you dry your face and pout from not being able to get rid of the overwhelming taste. Looking up at the pro hero with watery eyes, you rub your runny nose with the towel.

He leans against the doorjamb with crossed arms. “Got anything to say to me?”

“I’m sorry…Dad.” You know better than to call him anything else in this moment.

His smirk is one of satisfaction as he stands up straight, bringing you into his arms. You lean your head against his chest, holding onto his shirt for comfort.

He might have won this battle, but the war isn’t over yet.

#yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere themes #triggering content #triggering themes #platonic yandere father #platonic yandere bakugou #bnha katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #yandere katsuki bakugou #yandere katsuki #yandere katsuki x reader #my hero acedamia #boku no hero academia

283 notes · View notes

heartfullofleeches · 10 months

Text

Practice

College Yan + Older Neighbor Reader [M + G.N]

Summary: A friend requests a favor from you after a rough night

Warning: Legal age gap, mentions of alcohol and drugs, emotional manipulation, groping

12 missed calls....

"..Hey, Y/n. Just realized you're probably still at work right now....l I just wanted to say thanks for everything. Without you - I don't think I'd be out here tonight.."

"Y/n - hey! Oh... just missed you I guess. I just arrived, and... honestly I'm really nervous. There's more people than I thought there'd be and I don't know anyone. You mind if I call again? Even if you don't answer - it's nice not being alone."

"Y/n... things are going pretty good so far. Someone just came up to me and handed me a cup. I've never drank before, but I have too many regrets already to have another. This goes out to you."

"Are you afraid of dying alone?.... it never crossed my mind until my grandad died a few years back. Nobody liked the guy so he just.... wasted away alone in his house. I don't want that to happen to me. I wish you were here."

"Y/n?.... fuck... please don't listen to that last message. Can you come pick me up? I sent the address to you earlier, but I forgot to tell you. I think I drank too much and I know it's late but... fuck."

"You're coming to pick me up...aren't you? You wouldn't leave me behind like everyone has... I'm so happy I-"

Message Saved.

You didn't need to hear the rest. Teddi was the sweetest guy you've met in recent years. A little rough around the edges, sure, but it's a given with everything he's been through. Once you cracked that shell, he revealed that dorky, loveable self of his who still cried when animals died in movies yet gushed for hours about his fascination with horror media as a whole. You thought you were doing the right thing by trying to get him out of his comfort zone - keep him from turning out like you.

Breathing through your teeth, you toss your phone into the passenger seat as you exit the vehicle. Beer glasses and someone's glasses left out in the field crunch beneath your feet as you cross the lawn up to the house and adjacent door. Poking your head through the crack; a sea of young adults and their peers overcrowd the living space - egging each other into boisterous acts and having the time of their new lives. Realistically you couldn't be a few years older than the older face in the crowd, but this wasn't your click. You walk up to the nearest, unattended person and tap them on the shoulder.

"Excuse me, looking for someone. Thick glasses, nose ring, blue...ish hair? Should've brought my phone out-"

"Oh!! You must be Ted's partner. Y/n - right?."

"We aren't dating. I'm their neighbor."

"My bad - he's just been talking about you all night so I thought - anyway, he's up on the roof. Said he needed the fresh air. Just head upstairs, the ladder to the attic should be right there.

"Alright. Thanks." You push past them and up the stairs - bracing your foot on the ladder rails that creek under your weight as you climb up into the attic. The room is foggy, musty fog filtered out the open door leading to the patio. You reject an offer for its source as politely as you could as you brush by the individuals occupying the space, pulling your shirt over your nose as you step out into the chilly night. Laying on a blanket made of someone else's coat, Teddi sits beneath the stars wearing the jacket you lent him about a week ago. He takes the blunt offered by a peer, breaking off its tip as he pulls it to his lips. You knock on the door frame twice - smoke violent exhausted from his nose and lungs as he turns around to see you.

"Y/n." Teddi staggers to his feet, legs tangled in his makeshift blanket as he trips and stumbles his way towards you. He sports a dopey grin, fixing your jacket to his shoulder. "Hey, we were just talking about you - this is.. uh.." He snapped his fingers. "Fuck."

"Trudy."

"Trudy! Right, haha - they're great, but not as great as you."

"That's great." You wrap an arm around their shoulder, turning them towards the door. "We're leaving."

Teddi slurs out a whine, leaning back - trying to pull you with him. "What? But you just got here. I wanna introduce you to everyone first."

"Maybe later. I need to get you home." Your right hand finds the small of his back, locking around his waist. "Car - now."

His pink face flushes further. "Okay...."

Loading Teddi into the car, his head slumps against the passenger window as you shut the door. The ride home is mostly quiet - his hand glued to your lap no matter how many times you nudge him away. His head rolls over to your shoulder and the alcohol on his breath fans your face as he speaks.

"Do you think somebody will ever love me, Y/n?"

"Why are you asking me?"

"I meant someone tonight."

He studies your face. No twinge of jealousy or sadness. You almost looked relieved. He swallows, buring the ache as he continues. "I meant someone and.... I know they're way out of my league. Kind....smart....when they smile it's like the whole room lights up. We hadn't known each other for long, but they've always been there and... I can't imagine life without them now that they're here. Despite our differences I know we are meant for each other."

You ease your foot off the gas. "....Ted. You're a good kid. If I had known a guy like you back when I was your age I would have loved to get to know him."

Teddi sits upright, looking down as he rubs his face. "Quit talking like you're so much older than me..."

"We're here."

Teddi glances outside. Always when he works up the courage to talk to you.. You park outside your house and round the car to help him get to his. Teddi clutches your arm as you face his yard.

"Please don't make me go home tonight, Y/n."

His nails dig into your shirt. "Please."

You sigh. Helping him up the driveway and into your home, you guide Teddi into your bedroom- afraid of what's happen if you give him the couch. Teddi relaxes as you cross the threshold into your living room. The familiarity of your home, just the two of you in this vast space - he wouldn't give it up for anything. The lingering stress melts from his face as you lower him into your bed, resting on the pillow you lay your head on every night. You set his glasses on the dresser and bring him a glass of water - wishing him good night as you turn off the lights. Hovering over the bed, he grabs your wrist as you turn to leave.

"Y/n..... please stay with me tonight."

He brings a hand up to your face, stroking your jaw as he pulls you closer. "Kiss me, Y/n."

".... how much did you drink, Teddi."

"Alot, but - I need you... to help me I mean. I've never kissed anyone before, and I need the practice if I'm ever going to tell them how I feel. You're the only person I can turn to for this. You promised that you would always be there for me."

You knew that would come back to haunt eventually. "Ted, when I said I'd help you with anything, I meant like teaching you how to do your taxes or change a tire. This isn't something we should be doing."

His cheek presses against your neck, fresh tears staining your skin. "We can forget about it in the morning.... They're all I have. You're all I have... Please don't leave me too."

"....show me."

"Huh?"

"How you would confess. Show me."

You sit on the edge of the bed. Teddi props back against the frame, tucking his hair behind one ear and fixing his shirt. He chews on his bottom lip - the moonlight reflecting off your skin basking you in that heavenly shine he always saw. He looks down. "I'm gonna use your name just to make it easier - okay?"

Teddi takes a deep breath. "Y/n - you... you're the most amazing person I've ever met. When I'm with you, it's like opening my eyes for the first time. You're someone I know I can trust through thick and thin... you've always been there for me, and I want to be here for you... forever."

He scoots closer, placing a hand on your lap as he cups your cheek - leaning in til his forehead rests against yours. "I like you...I love you. Please, stay with me."

Teddi slowly closes the distance; fingers restricted round your thigh as his lips fall flush against yours. It feels like a crime - your soft skin beneath his chapped, bitten lips. He presses deeper, engraving every each of you into his memory and being that his mind would allow. His tongue ghosts your lower lip, snaking against your teeth. His hand clasps the base of your neck as he adds his weight to your chest, pulling you up on the bed as he brings your hanging leg up to his side.

"y/n....."

He cards his fingers through at your hair - the taste of whiskey and desperation hot on your tongue as you wince from the abrupt tug at the back of your skull. The depth of your mouth is more indicating than any substance he had all night. His fingers sink into the flesh of your leg, working towards the curve of your ass as a moan vibrates through your teeth centered from throaty whine he makes as they close around his tongue. His lip ram yours as he tilts his head for a better angle with enough force to bruise, and by god he hopes it does. Biting down doesn't stop his tongue from barreling down your throat - ball piercing sucked to the roof of your mouth. He gives pause only when he finally accepts the stars dancing in view are from the lack of oxygen rather the magic of the eve- falling to your chest with a few links and kisses between greedy intakes of air and your scent. He giggles, hiccuping as his arms shoot around your waist.

"My first kiss...... I made sure to tear off the end when I smoked with that girl so I wouldn't lose it even indirectly. Was I your first too? Can you by my first in other ways too?"

You pull from under him as he nips at your shoulder. "You're not into Trudy?"

"Trudy?" The name rolls off his tongue with such disgust and confusion. "Heck no. The person I like is so much more special than her. I'm lucky to even be in their presence. I wanna give them the world. My heart. I love you.... them- so much."

You fall silent as he nuzzles his face against your torso, eyes growing heavy. "It's late, Teddi. Go to bed."

"Will you sleep with me?.... Stay with me until the morning?..."

".....Always."

Teddi cuddles up to your side as you join him in bed - fighting exhaustion to treasure your sleeping face beside him.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere blurb #yandere oc #yandere insert #yandere drabble #male yandere #Teddi my oc

918 notes · View notes

macabr3-barbi3 · 4 days

Text

Alastor/sheep!Reader- Red Riding Hood (Ao3 Request)

I had so much fun with this! And I'm thinking about doing a little mini-series of retellings of fairy tales because of this so 👀

Tags: chase; outside sex; rough sex; predator/prey for like 3 paragraphs; reader is kind of a little shit

2.6k words

<3<3<3<3<3

The woods are dark and dense, and you curse yourself again for agreeing to undertake this journey for your new manager.

“It gets cold!” She had whined, gesturing to the hairless skin of her Sphynx cat form. “ I could freeze, and its really important that this delivery gets picked up tonight! You’re such a great friend,” she had gushed when you caved and agreed to make the trip for her, to the outermost edges of the Pride ring. Why couldn’t she have just air-shipped the package? “The customer doesn’t like modern technology.” Why not have him come get it? “He isn’t really a people person, I don’t want to scare anyone off.”

An idiot is what you were- an idiot that was new to Hell and didn’t have many other options for jobs. You were sweltering under the stupid red cloak that she had given you, swearing up and down that the forest you’d be going through got chilly at night and insisting that you take it with you; the only plus to the damned thing was that it had a pocket into which you could slip the delivery parcel. Even though you weren’t technically properly trained for deliveries yet, the thick wool that coated the lush curves of your sheep-like body apparently made you the perfect candidate for the trip through the ‘cold’ woods.

“Bullshit,” you mutter, throwing the hood of the damned thing back and letting the soft breeze whip past your ears. The trees seem to whistle their displeasure at your presence, your hair swirling around your face as you head in the general direction that the app on your phone directed you.

There’s a sudden growl in the air, and you freeze where you stand. It almost rumbles the ground beneath your feet, and glancing over your shoulder you see a hint of crimson eyes staring from the darkness.

Fuck that. You take off without any further inspection of the glowing gaze, tossing your phone into the cloak pocket as you run- you don’t need to know what it is if it's going to try to hurt you somehow, and you don’t give a damn about the delivery being on time if it means risking your life. Why wouldn’t your manager have told you there was dangerous shit out here? You get that it’s Hell but for fuck’s sake.

Your lungs are aching as you continue on, not willing to slow or stop while you can still hear the crashing of tree branches and snarling behind you, right at your heels. There’s a hand on the hood of your cloak then, pulling you backwards, and without thinking you slam your head back, horns miraculously hitting home right in the creature’s face. It releases you with a pained groan and you don’t look back, booking it as fast as you can in a different direction, stitch in your side growing more and more painful with every step.

The woods are silent as you finally slow and stop, bracing your back against a tree and trying to catch your heaving breath. Your whole body is on fire, physical exertion having never been your strong suit, but you’re still alive and that’s what matters- body aches will heal, but you heard that regeneration was a bitch.

“Are you chilly, darling?”

The unexpected voice makes you whip around, cloak whirling as you turn. “Fuck!” Your heart is still beating like a drum, hard hammering against your chest from the run before you had stopped to rest.

The demon casually leaning against a nearby tree watches you with a wide grin, a trickle of blood from his lips where your horns had slammed into him. His eyes, red and lidded, flick up and down your body. “It’s quite rude to leave a question unanswered.”

“It’s also quite rude to sneak up on people. Was that you chasing me?”

“Why, I’m just making sure that you are heading in the right direction! The number of people that have gotten lost on their way to me is truly a nuisance.” He eyes the shape of the package in your cloak pocket. “I’m pleased to see that this one hasn’t been lost to the forest yet.” He steps closer, holds a hand out to you. “Come along now, dear.”

“R-right. Can you confirm the name on the package?”

A wide grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Alastor.”

It matches the name on the package which is good enough for you. “Okay, great. Here you go.” You pull the box from your pocket and hold it out to him. “That’s all this needed to be.”

He cocks his head to one side. “Surely you won’t be leaving so soon.”

“I’m just here to make the delivery, sir.” Your hands are trembling with leftover adrenaline as he takes the parcel, inspects it for a moment, then unceremoniously tosses it over his shoulder into the darkness.

“Your work ethic is to be admired!” He exclaims, ignoring your outraged expression. “But there seems to be confusion- you are the delivery, darling.” When you stiffen at his words he chuckles and creeps closer, circling you like a predator. “Let me guess- you’re new to the shop, you aren’t trained for deliveries, and the manager had compelling reasons for why you should come instead of herself?”

“I-”

“We have an understanding, you see.” He trails a finger down the cloak hanging over your arm. “Retail is a hard business in Hell- no one wants to stick around, people are hard to train, they never last long anyway. Your manager has had to run several of my packages herself and the last one was, sadly, lost to the elements by her own fault.” He looks off into the distance, seemingly irritated at the memory. “What could have possessed her to attempt to cross a river with a priceless antique electronic is beyond me but here we are. I would have simply killed her but she has connections I can use to my advantage so we made a deal instead.” He looks back to you, head cocked to one side as he smiles. “An easy meal as compensation for her transgression. Delivered right to me.” His eyes darken, raking over your form, the curves of your body. “I hadn’t expected her to act so quickly but it’s been some time since I last had mutton.”

“I won’t taste good,” you tell him calmly despite the lingering fear from the chase, and an eyebrow raises in amusement. “When I was alive my mom always said I was rotten, I’m sure that doesn’t translate well to my demon form. And then you’ll have wasted your deal on bad meat.” You keep your voice steady while you address him.

“Oh?” He circles you and you can feel his gaze running over your body again. “I’m not so sure about that, dear- I’ve never found any complaints with meat of any kind. I’m sure you’ll be quite tasty.” He smiles when he comes around the front again, the sharp teeth glinting in the light that filters through the trees.

And fuck, the way he said that shouldn’t have been kind of hot. This was a serious situation, definitely not the time to be thinking vaguely inappropriate thoughts about the demon who was quite blatantly threatening to eat you. “Do you want to risk it?” You ask, and his smile turns curious. “I mean, I’d hate to have to tell you ‘I told you so’ but I would do it. The shop has new people like me coming in every week for training that you could have your pick of instead of taking the first thing to come along; what if you missed out on something really delicious?”

Alastor watches you carefully. “I suppose you have a point, darling,” he concedes, his slim shoulders shrugging. “A meal that talks back so much would surely be a poor one. Though I can’t say I’m not disappointed that I won’t get a chance to sample you.” His voice seems to drop, a rolling purr in the strange radio cadence he has that makes your hair stand on end and your heart thump in your chest.

“Maybe I could let you have a taste?” The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, the air between the two of you suddenly charged with tension. “Just, you know. Show you what I mean, that I won’t be any good. Rotten and all that, like my mom says.”

“On the contrary, I think you’ll be very good.” He steps closer to you, towers over your frame with hooded eyes that track the movement of your throat as you swallow. “But I’ll behave myself since you’ve shown me the error of my ways- a mere sampling of your flavor, nothing more. I suppose there is more that I could get out of your manager if I don’t ‘cash in’ right away, as it were.” He brings a claw tipped hand to cup your face, tilting your head one way then the other. “We’ll start here,” he murmurs, and you close your eyes, wait for the brush of his lips against yours.

It doesn’t come- instead you feel him lick along the column of your neck, the muscle hot and wet where it drags against your skin, a shuddering exhale leaving you at the feeling. One hand comes up to rest on your waist, the other unclipping the clasp of the red cloak you wear and letting it fall to the ground. You shiver without it, not from the cold but from the sensations raging through your body at such a simple touch, and Alastor pulls back, licking his lips at the taste of you.

“My disappointment at agreeing to let you go is immeasurable,” he whispers, pupils blown when he meets your eyes. “It’s just as I suspected- delicious.” The hand that released the cloak winds itself into your hair, brushing against the base of your horns. “Would you indulge me in another taste?”

You nod, not trusting your voice to come out clearly, and he swipes along your neck again, allowing his teeth to press gently against your pulse point before he continues down, snaking the hot appendage between the valley of your breasts and holding you tighter to his body. There’s still adrenaline coursing through your body making each touch feel like an electric pulse to your core, and when he growls into your chest you let out a quiet moan that echoes in the quiet woods.

One hand still tangled in your hair, thumb gently brushing against your horns, he slips his free hand under the waistband of your skirt and into your panties, inhaling sharply at the wetness he finds. Claws absent, he slides a finger inside of you, the press of it slow and steady, making you rock your hips into his hand.

“Someone’s eager, hm?” He presses another digit into the slickness of your cunt, bends his fingers in a way that his you seeing stars as he thrusts them in and out of your heat. You let out a soft cry against him and cling to his shirt, up on your tiptoes to let his fingers reach wherever he wants.

“More,” you whimper, letting one of your hands reach up to his face, a move that surprises him. “Please, Alastor.”

He brings his face up from your skin and devours your mouth, his tongue showing just as much attention to your mouth as he had your neck, licking into it with fervor and enthusiasm you wouldn’t have expected from him. “Would you let me have you, darling? This is hardly an appropriate place, but-”

“Yes,” you tell him, not even letting him finish his sentence, and he gently lowers you to the ground to lay across the expanse of the red cloak. He makes short work of his trousers, shoving your skirt up around your waist and slicing your panties off with a quick swipe of his fingers before he fists his cock and slots himself against you. “Oh fuck-” He impales you with a hard thrust, sinking in to the base with a harsh grip on your hips.

“Lovely,” he groans into your ear, and then he seems to lose the capability for language, his words devolving into harsh grunts and growls as he fills you over and over, snapping his hips against yours in a quick rhythm that leaves you gasping and trying to pull him closer.

A hand leaves your hips to tangle in your hair; you arch up, thinking that he means to kiss you again until his palm wraps around the length of one horn, using it like a handle to pull your head back, throat exposed to him while he rails into you. “Delicious little thing,” he says, and drags his tongue down the column of your throat again, sucking a pattern of bruises along it that you know you’ll spend the next week pressing into with your fingertips. His sharp teeth pinch a bit of skin lightly and you jerk in his hold.

It should have terrified you, instead dousing your body in a liquid flame. “J-Just tasting, remember,” you jokingly reprimand, and his laugh reverberates through your chest.

“How could I forget?” He lets go of your horn, slips the hand between your bodies as he leans back so he can watch you rocking with the force of his thrusts into you. His thumb swipes forcefully at your clit, the ecstasy near overwhelming as he loses some of his rhythm, your cunt clamping down on him. “It's quite selfish to deny me, darling, but I’ll take of you what I can- your pleasure, your body, all of it mine-”

Your eyes roll back in your head as the tension in your lower body snaps, dragging Alastor down with a hand in his hair to meet your lips, desperate and sloppy while you quake and shatter to pieces below him. He spends himself with a snarl in the tightness of your body, slick with your arousal and release as you cry out, the sound swallowed by his mouth.

He remains still for a moment, crouched over you, before he pulls back and rests you gently on the cloak. “This thing is hideous,” he says with distaste. “It made it quite easy to track you- which was the intention- but you must have been sweltering.”

You watch what you can see if the sky through the canopy of the trees. “She said it could get cold,” you laugh, “and I’m a fool. What a terrible job.”

“Not a fool,” he corrects, spreading the fabric out to lay on it beside you for a moment. “Nearly a victim of a deal that didn’t concern you- and perhaps I will still pay your manager a visit- but never a fool. You convinced me not to eat you for now, at least.”

You shoot him a smile. “Well, you weren’t that scary once you stopped chasing me,” you giggle, “besides those sharp teeth.”

His nose wrinkles with his amusement. “Keep teasing me, dear, and I’ll acquaint you with these sharp teeth for real.” He leans close enough to nip at your shoulder, the motion more teasing than painful. “There’s always tomorrow, after all- who knows what my appetite will be once I’ve dealt with that manager of yours? Mutton could still be on the menu.”

“Well,” you say, “if I’ll be out of a job soon so I might go apply at the coffee shop around the corner from our place. I heard their manager is a real ass- how would you feel about duck instead?” He laughs into your shoulder, the sound deep and clear, and you think maybe it wasn’t such a bad job after all if this was where it lead for now.

#hazbin hotel #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #x reader #requests <3 #my stuff <3

133 notes · View notes