#like u wouldn’t do that to a rabbit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bananami · 4 months

Text

STFUATTDLAGG

character/s: choso kamo x afab!reader

SYNOPSIS: meangirl!reader x loser!choso is a pairing that lives in my head rent free so when you all voted for choso to be the next hot man i wrote for i knew this was what would come out of it so let’s get into it whores

WARNINGS: this is college based bc u know why. 18+, nsfw, mdni, the whole shebang, kiddos avert ur eyes IT'S ALL SMUT / also just be aware i did use fem language for reader. as always, i did not proof read xxx

A/N: delusion is like drugs for simps, and i am the crackhead

Choso isn't like a nerdy loser, more like he’s just an emo boy, he’s got that alternative look going on and in a school full of preppy rich kids he stands out like a sore thumb. Of course this leads to some not so nice kids being not so nice to him, to which like he literally could not care less. He pays no mind to what anyone thinks of him beyond of course what his brothers think of him.

And as much as people aren’t nice to him, they do not fuck with him directly, lowkey scared of his reactions. Especially following a specfic incident in which someone tried to pick a fight with him. At first he was going to just let it slide but then they said something rude about Yuuji and this man laid them out. People were sent to urgent care and everything. Choso was put on suspension and almost kicked out, but their family friend is a lawyer and threatened to sue the school and anyways (if you know who you know who) so he was allowed back at school and everyone’s a little weary of him. This doesn’t stop the mean comments from coming.

And you. You’re no exception. You made fun of him every chance you got. The way he always did his hair in that weird double bun updo, or how he had his nails painted black, his various piercings and tattoos, the way he dressed so much different, was so much different, than any of the other guys you knew at school.

And you were so disgustingly attracted to him. While everyone would sneer and make fun of him and you played along, in reality you were internally berating yourself.

Choso did his best to ignore you but to be honest in the end you were just too fun to mess with. He thought it was cute how you thought you could hurt his feelings, how you really tried, and didn’t realize that he had a thing for brats and that’s just what you were. Everyone else was too afraid to say it straight to his face ever since the fight except for you.

One time he caught you staring at him and he couldn’t help himself, leaning over with a careless smirk. "If you spent less time staring at me and more time paying attention to the lecture maybe you wouldn’t be failing the class."

"Fuck you, Choso.”

"You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You hoped he’d mistake your embarrassment for anger. He didn’t. You snapped back, as usual. "Maybe if you didn’t dress like such a freak, you’d actually have some friends.”

"Maybe if you weren’t such a bitch your boyfriends would actually stick around for longer than a few months."

The one stung, and you tried not to let it show. Thrown off your game, all you could bring yourself to reply back was: “don’t call me a bitch.”

He shrugged, as though he were bored with the conversation already. "I never said it was a bad thing, just that you keep dating dudes who can’t handle you."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He doesn't answer though, and you spend way too much time thinking about what he could've meant. Was he implying that he could handle you? Was that why he constantly found ways to poke at you? Did he like when you were a brat? Did it matter if he liked it? It led your fantasies down a deep and dark rabbit hole that you spent weeks harping on.

Things get even worse after you realize that Choso might’ve been right about your grades slipping and staring at him in class and whatnot. And (for plot reasons of course) that would mean your professor paired you up with him for the final project so that you’d stand a better chance at passing the class.

Which is how you find yourself standing outside of his apartment door, debating how much you need to actually pass the course for your degree. You kept coming to the same conclusion. You definitely needed to.

"You just gonna stand at my door like a creep or can you move so i can let you inside?” He stood at the top of the staircase up to his apartment, watching you with another bored expression.

You're reaction is second nature. "I’m the creep? How long were you just standing there watching me? Maybe I’d already knocked and you didn’t answer so I was waiting. Let’s get on with it, I don’t need anyone seeing me hanging around-”

"Alright relax, princess. No one’s around to hear you act like you hate me. Come inside and I’ll grab us something to drink.” He opened the door to let you both inside, holding it open for you to enter first.

"First off, I do hate you. And second, how do I know you’re not going to poison me?”

"Don’t worry, I wouldn’t poison you. The plan was going more in the direction of choking.”

"Choked to death? Good to know.”

"You implied killing. All i said was choking.”

"Oh, gross.” You groaned. You pushed away the images that were brought to your mind. Choso's hand around your throat, fingers in your mouth, his breathy whispers telling you what else he'd have you choking on by the end of the night.

It's not too bad for the first few hours. You start out working on the project in the living room, but Choso’s neighbors are loud as all hell and you eventually ask if you guys can move into a room away from that shared wall. And (of course for plot purposes) that would be his bedroom.

"Your bedroom is exactly as I pictured it would be."

"This is the part where I make fun of you for picturing what my bedroom looks like."

"Yeah weird and creepy, just like you.”

"Your insults are getting less and less creative.”

"Yeah well….shut up.”

He’s surprised at that, usually you’d come back at him with something witty and clever and he actually enjoyed it.

It’s quiet and he’s sitting at his desk while you lay casually on his bed when he decides now’s as good a time as ever, and he might never actually get you alone again to say it.

"You ever gonna admit that you find me attractive or keep lying to the both of us?"

You wince. "I don't find you attractive. Stop flattering yourself."

"You flatter me enough with all the staring and drooling you do over me in class."

"You're obsessive," you snap at him.

"At least i can admit it."

You're caught off guard, stuck between wanting to ask what he means and not wanting to give in to the obvious baiting he's doing. When he throws the study material down on to his desk and plops down in front of you on his bed, it seems like he's resigned to not giving you that choice.

"Tell you what, I'll tell you all of the dirty and depraved things I think about on a daily basis, and you can decide after whether you'd like to share those same thoughts of yours with me or not."

"Why would I want to hear any of the thoughts in your head?"

"Because a lot of them revolve directly around you." He's leaned so close you're almost touching one another. Your silence is enough to spur him on. "I think you've never been fucked properly before."

You can't contain the look that falls on your face. "Seriously? This what you think about? My sex life is none of your business, but I'm doing just fine in that department, thank you very much."

He ignores you. "I don't think you've ever been told to shut the fuck up and take it like the good girl I know you can be." That shut you up real quick. Choso is on his knees in front of you, hands cupping around your neck, his thumbs running across your cheeks. "You're whiney little fucking attitude not do it for your boyfriends?" He teased. "They not know how to deal with you when you're being a brat, huh?"

You're head moves without conscious effort, nodding to agree with him.

"You just want some attention, don't you?"

Another nod.

"You want my attention, don't you?"

Hesitation. But you can't help yourself, his presence looming heavy over you, pushing you to admit what you'd kept in the dark for so long.

One of his hands slithers from your throat, down your chest, under the sweats you threw on in a rush to get to his apartment. You're so distracted by his fingers that you don't notice his face moving closer until his mouth is prying yours open. That's all it takes from him to have you stroking your fingers through his hair, pulling it out of the buns they typically are held in.

"Such a little brat." He's hovering over you, pushing your hips into the soft cushion of his bed with his. "Feel how hard it makes me?" He teases as he grinds his hips down, his clothed cock sliding against your center. Your eyes flutter and he grips onto your face with one hand, squeezing firmly. "You're gonna fuck me tonight. Nod if you understand."

You can't believe how quick your head moves up and down. "You're gonna take off those pretty little panties you wore hoping I'd get to see and slide up and down my dick until I tell you to stop. I don't want you cumming until I feel you've begged enough."

It takes no time at all for him to flip the two of you and prop himself up on his forearms. His pants are shimmied off and thrown to his bedroom floor alongside yours.

Your hands are desperate to line him up, anticipation building to have him deep inside of you, but his shoot out to pull them up and place them against his chest. "No, no, no. You don't get me inside you yet, not until you prove to me you deserve it." He urges you along his shaft, flat against his stomach. "That's right, be a good little slut for me and let me feel that pussy slide against my dick."

You watch him from above, his face contorting from concentration to pleasure to near desperation. You've never felt as powerful as you did riding him. Not a single one of your boyfriends ever turning you on as much as Choso was right now. He made you work for it, praising you when you did what he asked, and you chased that praise.

"Shit, look at that baby," he grabbed your hair and yanked your face down to watch yourself slide against him. "Need to feel you squeeze that pussy around me. Fuck, slide me in, slide me in-" his loud groans matched your high pitched sound of relief at having him seated inside you. "Fuck this."

He flipped the two of you back over, gripping each of your legs and forcing them up. "Hold right under your knees for me. Good girl, keep yourself open for me, let me just use you." He fell to his forearms as he plowed into you, giving you no time to get used to any sort of pace.

You tried your best to hold your legs, but you wanted so badly to touch him. One of your hands wandered back up into his lose hair.

He could barely keep his eyes open, mumbling all kinds of truths you were sure he would've kept locked inside had he not been so drunk on the feel of being inside you. "So fucking pretty," he kissed you sloppily, "such a stupid fucking brat, just needed my cock inside you. Feel like heaven, baby. Gonna let me cum inside your little cunt, right? Made me wait so fucking long to have you, I deserve it. Don't I deserve it?"

You can barely form any coherent words, setting for nodding and breathy uh huhs.

"So fucking mean to me, and look how good I'm being to you, huh?" You feel the light slap of his head against your cheek. "Say your sorry, beg me to cum inside your pussy."

You do beg, your apology comes out in between the stuttering and slurring of your words, but you beg and plead with him until he concedes. It his own orgasm that pushes you over, his groans and relentlessness that follow, pushing himself passed the point of no return. You can see the beginning of what looks like tears in his eyes, and he has to force himself to stop, his hips jerking from the overstimulation.

He kisses you ruthlessly, letting his tongue claim your mouth in a manner more harsh than it is anything else. And when he pulls away and his eyes settle back on yours they're equally as harsh.

"No more shitty little boyfriends that can't handle you. I'll handle you. You want my cock, you ask nicely. Understand?"

"Yes," you let your lips peck his, surprising him, "what if I don't wanna be nice about it?"

He smirks, "try it and find out. Now get on your knees and suck my cock like the good girl I know you can be."

#choso x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #choso smut #jjk choso #choso x you #choso x female reader #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo #jujutsu kaisen choso

1K notes · View notes

leclerced · 6 months

Text

control | op81

summary: oscar and lando make a bet on who can last longer for no nut november. oscar’s girlfriend is not happy with the situation. inspired by this request that was supposed to be a quick blurb but turned into 2.6k by accident

warnings: 18+ minors dni. wrap it before u tap it! no real smut until the end and its quick and desperate sorry!

author’s note: i did not proof read this and was high writing so sorry for mistakes. i accidentally lost track of time writing this and i wanted to post tn so sorry for mistakes! i rly need to make a masterlist atp

Oscar and his girlfriend cannot keep their hands off each other, and Lando is kind of sick of having to cover for the two lovers when they sneak away during the race weekend. He can’t count on both hands anymore how many times he’s walked in on them in the midst of getting down and dirty, one of them on their knees or Oscar between her legs fucking her. The three of them grew unusually close because of it, with them whispering in his ear to cover for them while they sneak away instead of just disappearing like they did in the beginning of the season.

The three of them don’t realize it, but Lando has this way of staring at them like she’s the sun and he’s the moon and everyone is obsessed with the idea of them being a thrupple. Oscar was asked about it once, and said he hated questions about his personal life, and that he had to even say it, but no. He was not in a three way relationship with his teammate. Despite that, he loves knowing he’s got the hottest girlfriend on the grid and that everyone, including his teammate, wants her, but only he gets her. It ends up weird a weird dynamic between them, Oscar giving Lando too many details of all the things she lets him to do her, and come November, after walking in on them for the umpteenth time, Lando made a bet that Oscar can’t keep it in his pants for a month. Oscar said he could easily lie about it, but Lando brought up how she didn’t travel with him in the beginning of the year and he was an absolute menace compared to the angel he turned into after the first race weekend she attended. Oscar told him he wouldn’t go without sex for a month unless Lando did, and Lando corrected and said it’s no nut November, meaning no self supplied or otherwise, but he would do it because it wasn’t hard when he didn’t have a girlfriend at all, much less one as sex crazed and hot as Oscar’s.

They fucked like rabbits on Halloween and she assumed it was because he really liked the costume she’d worn, but come November first, he stopped being so affectionate. She didn’t notice it until the race weekend really got started and kept trying to spend his free time alone with him but he stayed by Lando’s side the entire time, even when she leaned in and whispered in his ear that she was dripping for him. His hand had tightened on her thigh and he quietly told her, not now, before focusing back on Lando on his other side.

The first and second time she excused him brushing off her advances. They were in the paddock the first time she tried pulling him away, she could excuse that because he was working. The second, they were at a club with Lando and she was trying to pull him away to the bathroom for a quickie after she had a few shots, she could excuse that because he didn’t want to get caught fucking in a bathroom in Brazil. But the third time, they were back at the hotel and she’d just brushed her teeth and showered, walked out of the bathroom naked and she crawled up his body, kissing his body through the sheets. He just rolled her off his body off his when she settled her hips on his and twisted her around to spoon her as he tugged the sheets over her. She thought he was going to fuck her like that, but she snapped when he yawned, pressed a kiss into her shoulder and mumbled goodnight. “Why won’t you let me touch you?” She demanded more than asked and he blushed.

“I- Lando and I made a bet on who could last no nut November longer.” She twisted back around and stared at him blankly, hands moving back towards his sweats as she asked, “Seriously, you’re not fucking me for a month over a trend? Why the fuck do you care if each other cums?”

Oscar didn’t have an answer so he shrugged weakly, “I don’t wonna lose. He’ll never let me live it down.”

She scowled, “No. I’m not going to let you live this down.” She rolled off of him before going to the bathroom, “I’ll fuck myself, since you won’t.”

He rushed off the bed to follow her to the shower, thinking even if he couldn’t cum, he could still make her cum, but she’d shut and locked the door behind her.

She tortured him for the next two weeks, locking the bathroom when she showered and refusing to let him join her even just to wash her hair. She wouldn’t let him pull her into his lap, wrap his hands around her waist, but then they’d be back at the hotel and make out on the couch. He tried touching her, but she pulled his hands away and told him, “If I can’t touch you, you can’t touch me.” She’d end up holding his hands behind his head so he couldn’t touch her as she kissed him until he was achingly hard in his sweats and then she’d pull away, retreat into the little bedroom of the suite, and fuck herself with her fingers, the door hanging open as an invite to come in and join.

All three of them were getting frustrated, it was obvious with Lando and Oscar during the race in Brazil even though it had only been five days. Oscar was used to going back to his hotel and fucking his girlfriend until they passed out, used to being pulled away to closets and bathrooms so they could feel each other up and if they were daring enough, he would fuck her like she begged. Fans noticed Oscar trying to pull her into his arms in the background of some livestream and she pulled herself free of him and sat in the free chair next to his teammate. People went crazy thinking the couple was having a fight, even though she was there at the finish line with his team to congratulate him with a kiss.

Then there was the race in Vegas, just over halfway through the month, and she’d been planning the entire trip and a new wardrobe for it. She’d been ordering things and having them shipped to a friend in California who then drove her entire Vegas wardrobe from LA to Vegas for her. Oscar had no idea what was planned, but she’d teased him when she shyly admitted she was going all out with her outfits when they went out. She suddenly seemed less shy about the money she’d spent when she leaned in and kiss his neck for the first time in three weeks and whispered, “Too bad you won’t get to see half of it.”

He’d choked out a single word, why? She giggled and pulled back, “Well, I bought a lot of lingerie for this weekend. I thought we would be having fun, but you and your teammate have ruined them for me.” Her eyes were suddenly dark and he was blushing and kicking himself for still not really wanting to give up on the bet. He had a few weeks left, he was halfway there, and if he gave up now then the last two weeks of torture were for nothing. And because Lando wouldn’t let him live it down, he would tease him about being young and not being able to handle it, not being able to control himself. He wanted to prove to himself more than anyone that he could do it now, he’d gotten it stuck in his mind that if he could somehow resist the woman on his lap for a month, he could do anything.

It was bad.

She was practically playing dress up in their hotel room the night before the race, she didn’t even pause the movie as she pulled the suitcase into the room and stripped down after unzipping it.

“I thought you said I wasn’t going to see them?” He asked as she pulled out a small bag and retrieved a set in the same baby pink silk as the bag. She watched herself in the mirror as she put it on, then turned to him.

She had a wicked look in her eyes as she grinned, “I decided I didn’t want them to go waste.”

He clenched his teeth and forced his gaze back to the movie as she stripped back out of the set and retrieved a new one. She tried on dresses between sets, tried them on with different bras and pressed her breasts together to see which bra complimented which dress the most. He’d forgotten about the movie despite trying to keep his focus on it, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off her for longer than a few seconds.

She kept glancing at him in the reflection in the mirror and wondered if he could see her watching him. She could see him getting hard through his sweats, especially when he shifted and adjusted himself in his sweats. Oscar squeezed himself once before he pressed his hand back into the cushion like he forgot his self imposed restriction. She wanted him to lose control already. She was on the verge of dropping to her knees and begging for him, she needed him so badly. She was on the verge of not being able to make herself cum when she tried to convince him by touching herself in the next room with the door wide open. He had broken her and he wasn’t even trying to. She didn’t want him to touch her because every time he put his hands on her body, she felt the ache between her thighs grow then she was reminded of his stupid bet and she got angry. Horny and angry was a bad combination when angry sex was off the table because all sex was off the table. Every fibre of her being ached for him and her heart was breaking a little as she watched him watch her and do nothing.

She stripped out of the black dress she’d just tried on and was left in the papaya set she’d ordered for the race night. Oscar watched as she stretched the fabric over her hips and ass and let it pool to her feet before she turned to him. He shouldn’t have been surprised that she bought lingerie in his team color, or that it looked better on her than it did on his car, or his suit, or anything else McLaren branded it with. They should just put her in his car, in that lingerie set, and they’d make fucking millions off one photo. He was certain of it.

He found his heart was racing as she slowly walked towards him then straddled him, her fingers automatically curled into his hair as she brushed her lips against his. “Bought this for your race tomorrow,” she whispered, and he dug his fingers into the couch cushions by her legs. He wanted to touch her so badly, but after two weeks, he knew the new rule she’d imposed. She pressed her lips to his softly and he automatically kissed her back, leaning into her as he sighed. It was the first time he’d touched her all day other than when she woke him up with sleepy kisses and made him get out of bed and go to work. She’d stayed at the hotel then went out shopping and met with the friend who brought the suitcases, so he didn’t see her until he returned to the hotel and she had room service hot and ready for him.

She let him deepen the kiss and pleasantly tugged on his hair, eliciting another sigh from his lips. Oscar felt dizzy as she sucked on his lower lip then bit it teasingly, tugging it back and letting it go to pop against his upper lip before she kissed him again. He was paralyzed as she began rocking her hips against his, the pussy he had been dreaming about pressed up against his cock as she pressed herself into him.

Oscar reveled in the feeling for a moment before hanging his head back against the cushion, abruptly ending their kiss. She whined and chased his lips before settling on his jaw before she moved down his neck. He let out a shaky breath as her teeth scratched against his skin and she sucked softly. Her hips gained more momentum and he moaned, “Fuck, stop.” He could already feel himself growing close just from her grinding on him and kissing his neck, he wasn’t going to last much longer.

She licked softly at his neck before sighing blissfully, “Make me.” Her hips continued rocking against him, each roll of her hips was sending him into a frenzy. He hadn’t been touched in two weeks and he had reverted back to a horny teenager about to cum in his pants.

His fingers dug into the sofa and he gritted his teeth, “You said I can’t touch you.”

She nipped at his throat before humming, “Nothing’s stopping you.” She slowed her hips a little then swiveled them a few times, making his abs twitch under his shirt.

Oscar’s knuckles turned white as his grip tightened, “If I touch you, I’m gonna fuck you.”

She moaned at his words as she rubbed herself against him before brushing her lips against his as she teased, “I guess we’re at an impasse then, you can’t touch me, and I can’t stop touching you.” Her lips met his again as he moaned and rocked his hips into hers. She pressed down in the same motion and he suddenly grabbed her hips and flipped them over, “Fuck you.” He groaned, pushing his sweats down with one hand and tugged the papaya panties to the side. She’d had the panties on for mere minutes and they were soaked, so he had no problem pressing his cock inside of her without any prep before hand. She pulled his hair harshly when he pushed in without any warning, but the sudden pain of his cock stretching her faded into pleasure as he began fucking her with an urgency she hadn’t seen in him before. Neither of them could say anything as they gasped and moaned into each other’s mouths, his thumb found her clit and in less than two minutes she was yanking his hair again as he pushed her over the edge. The pain of her pulling his hair and the pleasure of her cumming around him sent him spiraling over the edge and his entire body shook with his orgasm as he filled her with his cum. He collapsed onto her after their orgasms washed over them and laughed as he buried his face in her neck. “I’m sorry, that was stupid of me.”

She nodded and curled her legs around him , “It was. I would hate you for it if you hadn’t given up right now. I would have gone and made Lando cum first just to get you to fuck me, if you hadn’t just now.”

Her words were teasing, but Oscar heard a bit of truth behind her words and he laughed, “I think you should do that still. Make him think I won the bet.”

She laughed, her chest pressing into his as she pet the back of his head lovingly, “You want to win so bad you’d let me go make your teammate cum?”

He shrugged, “It’s just Lando, he’d probably last thirty seconds cause he’s had a crush on you since you met. Probably feel like he won just because you tossed him off.”

She flushed at the thought of his teammate crushing on her, “He has?”

Oscar rolled his eyes even though she couldn’t see him, “You don’t notice him watching you constantly? Haven’t seen the way he looks at you?”

She huffed, “I should say the same about you and him, you look at him the way you look at me.” Oscar was glad she couldn’t see his face as it heated up and he changed the subject back to her, “You really don’t notice him watching you? What about Charles?”

Her eyebrows raised at the mention of the Monegasque and she squeaked, “Cha?”

He huffed this time, “You want to fuck all my friends?”

She blushed again and whined, “You’re the one who said I should make Lando cum.”

He laughed, “Mhmm, still think you should. I don’t want to lose. But like tomorrow morning, before I have to go to work so he won’t know I fucked you just now when he sees me happy tomorrow.”

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri smut #op81 #op81 smut

1K notes · View notes

munsonluhvr · 17 days

Note

Tattoo artist!Eddie x body piercer! Reader who have a shit ton of sexual tension ✨ I’ve been on a tattoo artist!Eddie pick lately ahah

TATTOOED ON MY HEART

a/n: omg wait is tattoo artist!Eddie actually a thing?? how am I just learning about this???? time to go down a rabbit hole LOL. hope u enjoy; hopefully this isn't *too* much smut then u were expecting...

contents: tattoo artist!eddie munson x body piercer!reader. with the arrival of a new tattoo artist, eddie munson, at your tattoo and piercing studio, it's clear that the two of you have intense chemistry.

If it wasn’t for the new tattoo artist, Eddie Munson, who sits off to your right on one of the tattoo tables, you probably wouldn’t have had to move the piercing dot which shows where you’ll piece the skin so many times. His gaze has a way of making you feel unnerved.

“What if it hurts?” Robin, your freckled friend who sits underneath your touch on one of the tables, whines. Robin frequently comes in to the studio to get something new pierced, shamelessly taking full advantage of the discount you give to your friend.

You blow out between your lips, frustration brewing inside you. You never have had to move the piercing location multiple times; you normally get it right on the first try. This isn’t the first time you’ve pierced Robin, let alone pierced anyone, it’s what you do for a career for god’s sake. The only thing that’s changed is Eddie’s presence, showing itself as the cause for your mess ups. You hold the fine tipped marker in one hand, staring at Robin’s earlobe. “It won’t hurt, Robin, but if you keep wiggling and I end up stabbing your neck with the needle then that will definitely hurt.”

Off to the side, Eddie laughs while shaking his head. “That’s one way to reassure your client.”

You roll your eyes, not needing his advice on how to pierce someone, a task he knows nothing about as a tattoo artist - your crafts are completely different with very little overlap.

“He’s right, that wasn’t very reassuring.” Robin mumbles, looking down at her hands that rest in her lap. With her thumb, she chips away at her already chipping blue nail polish.

You toss a look at Eddie, a scowl brewing on your face. Though, the harsh look softens when your eyes connect with his, his big, brown eyes looking back at you. He raises his hands in defense, “I’m just saying.”

“Don’t you have some scary biker dude to go tattoo or something?” You retort playfully.

Eddie shrugs, a smirk on his face, making no attempt to leave. “Sure, a whole bunch of ‘em, but it’s awfully entertaining to watch you pierce.” He folds his hands in his lap, leaning back in his seat, his eyes trained on you.

Your stomach does a flip, your skin becoming flushed. You turn your attention back to Robin’s ear. You take a deep breath, steadying your hand to replace the dot on Robin’s earlobe. At last, you place the tip of the marker in a place that you feel satisfied with. You allow Robin to look at the new location, which she approves with a single nod. Taking the sterilized supplies, you line the piercing needle up with Robin's skin. "Take a deep breath and exhale on the count of 3."

Robin inhales, then exhales and after you count down, you take the opportunity to pierce the her skin with your needle. She tenses, hissing like a cat, then she relaxes. "How does it look?" she asks, glancing up at you.

You smile softly, stepping back to look. "Like I did an amazing job." Robin laughs, and lifts the mirror up to her face to get a look herself. You're too busy watching your friend admire your handy work, and she's too busy looking at herself, to notice that Eddie has approached you from behind, peering over your shoulder to get a look too.

"Amazing job, indeed." Eddie mumbles next to your ear. You jump slightly, an intense wave of heat creeping over your body. You clear your throat, side-stepping away from Eddie. You positively hate the way he makes you feel.

Robin glances up from her reflection, looking between you and Eddie. Her eyes meet yours and she raises her eyebrows, a questionable look on her face. You knew what she was thinking though: who is this guy?

After a minute, Eddie slinks off to another part of the studio, leaving you and Robin alone.

"Okay, are we going to talk about the obvious tension between you and that guy, or are we just going to ignore it?" Robin asks, cocking her head at you.

"His name is Eddie, and I'd rather not."

Robin groans softly, shaking her head. "It's obvious that he finds you attractive, y/n. And you aren't so slick with hiding your feelings either."

You frown. "What are you talking about? I don't like him, I barely know him. He's just the new tattoo artist for the studio."

Robin waves her hand in your direction. "Regardless, he's into you, since you can't tell that on your own." You roll your eyes, beginning to clean up your space. "Sure."

After Robin leaves the studio, quite pleased with her new piercing, you begin to close the shop. Eddie, who is finishing up a tattoo with one of his clients, still accompanies you in the studio. As another 30 minutes passes by, you sit in the back room, a magazine in your hand, as you wait for Eddie to finish. In the distance you hear the cash register beep, and the door bell jingle shortly after, signaling that Eddie's client is gone. Seconds later, Eddie enters through the back room's doorway.

The thing about Eddie is that he's gorgeous; tall, dark and handsome. The second the owner's of the studio introduced you to the new tattoo artist, you were smitten, though you were determined to not let Eddie catch on to that. Eddie, however, was a little more bold, in pretty much everything that he does. He's charismatic with the other piercers and tattoo artists that work alongside you both in the studio, and awfully friendly with his clients. His personality, coupled with his good looks, intimidated you and you find yourself sometimes shutting down in his presence.

"How'd the tattoo come out?" you ask nonchalantly, not looking up from your magazine. Your heart thumps against your chest, and you tell yourself to play it cool.

Eddie opens the fridge that's placed in the far left corner of the backroom, grabbing a glass bottle of coco-cola, and moves to sit across from you at the table. "Pretty good. He seemed happy with it which is all I can ask for as a tattoo artist." You hum, but say nothing else, simply flipping to the next page of your fashion magazine.

Silence takes over the break room and you find your mind wandering to what Robin said earlier: did Eddie really find you attractive? Curiosity takes over you, and you decide to test your friends theory. You bend your upper body forward over the table, leaning on your elbow, your chest on full view.

Eddie swallows, his eyes immediately diverting to your exposed chest. Similarly to you, Eddie found you attractive the second he met you, though when he attempts to flirt with you, he's met with sarcastic, playful banter. Nonetheless, he's committed to get to know you. He even believes you may like him too.

Eddie clears his throat. "Was that your friend you pierced today? You seemed to know each other more than just clients."

You nod. "We are very close friends. She appreciates the discount I give her so she comes to me for all her piercings." You glance up at Eddie through your eyelashes and are met with his gaze.

Eddie only nods, your eye-contact entrancing him. After a second, you look away, closing your magazine. "Well, I suppose we should close the studio. People tend to try and come in for a tattoo or piercing at the last minute if we don't make it look like we're closed."

You stand up, turning towards the sink that's in the break room as well, cleaning up some of the dishes and trash that has accumulated over the day and was left behind by the other employees of the studio.

Eddie, who's eyes are now trained on your backside, has the urge to test if his assumptions about you liking him are true. He's wanted to make a move on you for the longest time, so what's stopping him now?

Eddie stands up, moving around the table to stand beside you at the counter. Without asking, he jumps in to help, drying the dishes that you put on the rack to dry. There wasn't much cleaning to do to begin with, so with Eddie's help, the work is done quickly.

You angle your body towards Eddie. "Thanks for the help."

Eddie nods, a small smile on his face. "No problem." There's only a few inches between you and Eddie, and you can smell his cologne radiating off of him.

Without giving much thought, Eddie reaches out, his fingers working to brush strands of your hair away from the frame of your face, and tucking them behind your ear. "You're really pretty, you know that, right?"

You bite down on your bottom lip, your eyes diverting away from his gaze. In your lower abdomen, lust and attraction fills you fully, your heart beginning to thump against your chest again. "Thank you," you mutter.

Placing his finger up to your chin, he lifts your face and gaze to meet his. Instinctively, he brushes his thumb against your bottom lip. You have no idea why, but as if he asked you to, you open your mouth, letting Eddie's thumb be engulfed by the wetness of your tongue and softness of your lips. His eyes widen, and he steps closer to you, closing the small gap that existed between you.

Time stops, allowing you to live only in Eddie's presence. He places his thumb on the thickness of your tongue, and you move your head back and then forward, letting his finger slide in and out with ease. Eddie's mind is filled with dirty thoughts about you on your knees, or legs spread wide open, your eyes locked on his.

You part your lips, letting Eddie's thumb slip out. He's quick to find another point of contact with you, cupping your face with his large hands, bringing your lips onto his. You sigh softly, the tension beginning to slip away. It's then that you realize how badly you've wanted this, how many times you pictured this very scenario while Eddie tattoos one of his clients in the booth next to yours.

Eddie's lets one of his hands wander down to between your legs and under your skirt, his fingertips grazing your cunt lightly over your panties. He wants so badly to just take you right there, against the backroom's sink or across the tabletop. But he refrains, wanting to take his time with you.

You sigh against his lips, your head leaning back in pleasure and anticipation. Eddie takes the opportunity to kiss the length of your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin lightly. You grasp on to his bicep, steadying yourself; his touch making you feel light-headed. Is this what you've been missing out on the entire time?

With his nimble fingers, Eddie moves your panties to the side revealing your slick pussy. His stomach twists at the feeling, realizing your wet because of him. Without a second thought, Eddie plunges his fingers into you and you part your legs further, letting him gain access easily. You shudder against his touch, the feeling of his fingers exploring you is euphoric.

You become breathless quickly, Eddie's rhythm working against your core making you sweaty and your knees wobble. Your moans become more frequent and louder, and you hope no potential customers enter the shop. "Fuck, that feels so good," is all you're able to say.

Your hips move back and forth against Eddie's touch, begging for more and more. Pleasure courses through your torso, your thighs beginning to tremble around Eddie's hand.

"I always thought that you may like me," Eddie mumbles, his lips dipping down to your collarbone. "I guess I was right." He curls his fingers in just the right way, stroking your most sensitive spot. Your mouth parts, and you reach behind you to grip the edge of the sink to keep your balance.

You screw your eyes shut, your breath becoming more rapid. Without you being aware, Eddie kneels in front of you, replacing his fingers with his mouth. Once you feel his lips and tongue on you, your hand darts down to his hair, your fingers intertwining with his hair.

Eddie's stomach twists; he wishes this this moment could go on forever. Eddie laps against you, each stroke of his tongue bringing you closer to the edge. His tongue swirls, against your clit, a burning intensity growing in your lower abdomen. You whine, gripping the edge of the counter harder.

Eddie's hands travel up, holding your waist. One of your hands creeps down to your waist, your hand placing on top of his. You peer down at the same time that Eddie peers up, bringing your eye-contact together. His brown, puppy like eyes look up at you, sparkling against the dim lighting in the backroom.

Eddie pulls back away from you, his grip tightening around your waist. "Come for me," he says, moving back onto you.

Almost immediately, you finish, shuddering against Eddie's touch. You sigh heavily, the feeling of the pressure escaping your lower abdomen, bringing you relief. Eddie hooks his fingers into the sides of your panties, pulling them up your legs as he stands up. Eddie, who is quite pleased with himself, wonders what his next move should be. He desperately wants to keep going, his cock still wondering what it would feel like to be buried in you, but he wants the tension between you and him to continue to grow. He wants nothing more than to make you wait, to pine for him until you need to crawl towards him, a burning desire to fill yourself with his cock.

You, however, are ready to go, your hands reaching towards the buckle on Eddie's jeans. Just as you begin to fumble with his belt, he grasps your hands in his.

You frown, wondering why he's stopped you. Doesn't he want you to touch him too? "I-I want to do you now," you say, your voice coming out low.

Eddie shakes his head, a daring look on his face. "Not now, not yet." His words leave you bewildered, wanting to ask a hundred questions. What does he mean, 'not yet'?

He steps forward, placing a light kiss on your cheek. You blink, wondering what is happening. "To be continued." He mutters, then slips out of the break room leaving you alone in the studio.

If there wasn't tension before, there's definitely tension now.

#stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things

563 notes · View notes

midnightsnyx · 17 days

Text

girl at home | mat barzal | part 9

pairing: mat barzal x fem!reader

warnings: angst, mentions of pregnancy, not edited word count: 2.1k authors note: i am back with a little less brain!! (literally) it took me a bit to start writing again cause I had some slowness on my right side so I wasn't quite up to writing. BUT i hope you guys like p9 and thank you so much for the continuous love on this story <3 the first bit is marlee's POV and after the * it's back to readers pov. hope u all like & pls lmk what you think <3

masterlist masterpost ask box

MARLEE

Marlee Jones loved her job. It was something she took pride in; helping bring new lives into the world and being there for all the mamas. Of course there were always the hard days, the days that made her hug Stella a little tighter when she got home from a shift. Her job had its ups and downs, but at the end of the day, she wouldn’t want to do anything else.

So, her panic is warranted when she comes across a certain patient file. She wasn’t looking for it, but when her eyes caught the name and there weren’t any other people nearby, she couldn’t help herself. It’s against HIPAA, and if anybody found out, she would be fired without question but she slipped the file in between a couple others and walked to a random supply closet. She closed and locked the door behind her before pulling the file out and opening it. Her eyes quickly scanned the pages, the words Hysterical Pregnancy making her heart race. She had to double check the name on the file twice, before believing it.

She knew that someone would notice the missing file, so she quickly found a printer and copied the pages, tucking them in her tote bag and putting the file exactly where it was.

Nobody would know.

Your first instinct is to calm Marlee down. Her panicking is making you panic and at least one of you needs to keep a straight head. You’re trying to let her words sink in without letting your mind go down a rabbit hole. You need to see all the facts before letting yourself do that.

“Marlee,” you reach out to grab her shaking hands. “What happened?”

She looks up at you and takes a deep breath. “I can’t- I can’t tell you the details but she’s not pregnant. She lied, and it’s already caused so much damage between you, and Mat and Liana… and Nora.” She pulls her hands away from yours and buries her face in them.

You decide not to remind her that Mat already fucked things up before Calista dropped the baby bomb on him because she knows that. Focus on one disaster at a time.

Calista lied about being pregnant. Mat doesn’t know this, and even if you try to tell him, you have no idea how he’ll react. Really, it’s none of your business and you can very well go on with your life because Mat has let you know loud and clear what his feelings are. He wants Calista in his life despite you not wanting her in Nora’s life. He technically has no rights, no say in what happens but when he first found out about her and asked to be in her life, you’d so desperately wanted to let him.

“How long can she pull off this lie until he finds out the truth?” you ask quietly and she lifts her head from her hands.

“Depends,” she mumbles.

“On what?”

“How deep she has him pulled into her fantasy.”

. . .

You let Nora spend a little more time with Stella, mainly wanting her to burn as much energy from the sugar high she’s on from the ice-cream. She’s sleepy when you buckle her in her carseat and you’re pretty sure she’s asleep but she mumbles something and you look to see her looking at you with droopy eyes.

“What was that?” you ask softly.

She looks down, avoiding eye contact with you which is worrisome.

“Do you think Mat would want to see me?” she whispers. “Without her?”

She obviously doesn’t need to clarify who she's referring to and it breaks your heart that a six-year-old has to worry about things like this.

“I can ask,” you tell her, unsure why she wants to see him suddenly. “You don’t have to go see Mat if you don’t want to, baby.”

By now, you’re pulling into your driveway so you can turn the jeep off and turn to give her your full attention. She still won’t look at you so you reach out and tap on her leg until she looks up.

“I want to,” she says but doesn’t elaborate so you don’t push.

“Okay, I’ll call him tomorrow.”

She just nods and starts to unbuckle her seatbelt so you get out and help her. She doesn’t complain when you carry her inside, helping her change into pajamas and brush her teeth. When she asks if she can watch a movie before bed, you don’t have the heart to deny her, even though it’s close to her bedtime so you set her up on the couch and put her favorite movie on. She’ll be out like a light in less than twenty minutes so while you’re waiting, you grab your phone and pull up Mat’s contact. Your finger hovers over the call option but you’re not sure you want to talk to him over the phone so you go into your text messages instead. The last messages between the two of you were when you last met up and even then they were short and to the point which makes this text easily simple.

To Mat: Nora wants to see you.

You lay your phone on the counter and get a glass of water while waiting for his response. You’re unnecessarily nervous, mainly because you are expecting him to start an argument the moment you tell him that Nora doesn’t want Calista to be there. You don’t even feel comfortable letting Mat see her because of what he said, but you can’t turn her request down. Not when she was so adamant about not wanting to see him, and out of the blue deciding that she does.

When you check on Nora while waiting for a response, she’s asleep so you pick her up and carry her to bed. You spend a minute just watching her after you’ve tucked her in. You’re desperate to see what’s going on in that little head of hers.

Just as you walk back to the kitchen, your phone buzzes and you freeze. Maybe messaging Mat tonight was a bad idea, and you should’ve just waited until tomorrow. It’s too late now though so you walk over and look to see Mat’s name and an unread message.

From Mat: ok

From Mat: when?

It bothers you, how nonchalant he’s acting after everything that’s happened. This is about Nora though, so you take a breath and try to decide on a date.

To Mat: Sunday?

From Mat: ok

You want to scream at him and take back the offer but remind yourself again that Nora explicitly asked to see him and it’s her decision to make.

So, you set up a place and time and tell him that she doesn’t want to see Calista. You expect him to argue, but he responds with another simple ok, and that’s that.

. . .

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Marlee asks, crossing her arms and glaring at Mat who’s sitting on a bench at the park you agreed to meet at. The two of you are standing outside her jeep, stalling a little before going over there.

Nora asked if Stella could come to the park too and Marlee was pulling out of her driveway before you could finish asking. You’re a little worried that she’s going to yell at Mat, but you figure with the kids there, she will contain herself unless he says something out of line.

“Nora asked to see him,” you remind her but she just grumbles something under her breath.

You’re ready to get this over with so you open the door and let Nora and Stella climb out of the jeep. Normally, they would race to the playground but Nora is hesitating, glancing over to where Mat is. He hasn’t noticed that you’re here yet which is good, because you are about five seconds away from just putting the kids back in and driving away.

Nora sighs quietly before walking over to Mat. You and Marlee hang back a little but Stella grabs her hand and sticks close to her.

When Mat sees her, his face lights up and for a second, you want to forgive him so everything can go back to how it was before. You can’t though, not when what he said is still so fresh and not when you know about Calista’s lies.

“Hey peanut,” he says softly, staying seated while Nora stands in front of him, looking down and scuffing her shoe on the gravel. He looks at you when she doesn’t say anything but you just shrug even though you’re confused. You’re about to ask Nora if she wants to just go to the playground when she breaks her silence.

“Are you not my daddy?” she asks quietly and it takes you off guard. You had this conversation with her, assuring her that Calista was lying but she must want to hear it from Mat.

“What?” he asks, looking at you before turning his attention back to her.

“Calista told me that you’re not my daddy,” she says more firmly, finally looking up at him. Her arms are crossed and she’s glaring at him. You’d be impressed if you weren’t so worried about what Mat may say.

His mouth opens and closes a couple times and he looks like a fish out of water. He looks at you again, as if he’s expecting you to step in but you just raise an eyebrow at him as if to say I told you so.

“I think she was confused-” he begins to say which is absolutely the wrong thing to say because it sets Nora off.

She stomps her foot and her glare hardens. “No! She said that mommy lied and that you’re not really my daddy. She told me that I don’t have a daddy.”

Before he can say anything, she’s storming off toward the playground, Stella chasing after her.

“Do I need to say I told you so?” you ask sharply, now that the kids are out of hearing range.

“You just did,” he mumbles and Marlee, who has been quiet up until now, steps towards Mat.

“You’re a piece of work,” she snaps and Mat looks at her confused.

“Excuse me?”

“Do I need to repeat myself?” she says, and you’re more than happy to let her say what’s on her mind.

“You’re letting your girlfriend tell your daughter that you’re not her father, and instead of comforting Nora, you’re trying to defend your girlfriend!”

For a moment, you’re scared Marlee is going to get angry enough that she’ll tell him the truth about Calista, but she takes a deep breath and turns away to go to where the girls are playing. You watch her walk over until she reaches them before turning back to Mat.

He’s staring at the ground and you don’t know why you’re still standing here but you guess you’re just waiting for Mat to say something.

“I fucked up,” he eventually mumbles and you scoff.

“When did you come to that brilliant conclusion?”

There’s the tiniest part of you that wants to bring up Calista, just to see if he’ll tell you anything but you’re not sure you’re in the mood to hear about her. Not when you know the truth.

“Liana is mad at me,” he tells you, which is news, because you thought she was just angry at you.

“I can’t imagine why.”

You look back at Nora, smiling when you see her laughing. She looks more like herself, rather than the gloomy kid she’s been the past couple days since she asked to see Mat. Like she got what was bothering her off her tiny shoulders.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Mat doing the same but his smile isn’t as real. If you weren’t still angry at him, you’d feel bad but you can’t let go of what he said and the fact that he tried again to defend Calista.

“She’s a good kid,” he says softly and you hum in agreement.

“Did you know?” he asks, “that she was going to say that?”

“No,” you tell him. It’s not a lie - she didn’t tell you why she wanted to see Mat, and you didn’t want to push.

“I’m sorry,” he says, but you shake your head and look directly at him.

“Sorry isn’t going to fix it this time. Marlee was right, instead of apologizing to Nora, who deserves to hear that more than me, you won’t stop making excuses for Calista,” you tell him. “I don’t know what you’re expecting from Nora and I, but sorry isn’t the answer.”

He frowns, but nods, seemingly accepting your response. You leave it at that and walk over to where Nora, Stella, and Marlee are, grinning when your daughter reaches for you. She hugs you when you pick her up and when you look back at the bench Mat was sitting at, he’s already gone.

tag list: @literatureluster @dasiysthings @barzyblogbabe @diary-of-jj @heatherawoowoo @fallinallincurls @lovinbarzal @whatthepuckisgoingon @teapartydreams @alilstressyandlotdepressy @keiva1000 @hischiershoe @bellstwd @alwaysclassyeagle @brrbrina @nonsensical-nonsence

@love-like-woaah @cycy9 @swift-sos

if you want to be added or taken off the tag list please let me know! & if you asked to be tagged and I didn't it's cause your @ didn't come up when i searched

#allies writing #hockey imagines #nhl fanfiction #hockey fanfiction #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fic #mat barzal fanfiction

198 notes · View notes

tervaneula · 1 month

Note

u said leoichi drabble prompt request. consider. one injured and the other protecting them and then the injured one has to calm them down bc 'they're okay, really, promise, rest now'

OKAY SO this fused with a ghost of an idea I've had for a while and it ended up being a bit more serious than the prompt called for and a lot longer than just a drabble. (It's ~1120 words.) CW: blood and injury

Also I made a silly header thing I don't know what to do with, so I'm putting it here since this fic doesn't come with art of its own :'3

“Yui, I’m okay–”

The rabbit turns his head to look at him, furious.

“I heard your shell crack, Leonardo, and I'm not an idiot! Now stay down and let me handle this!”

He falls quiet for a moment before redirecting his glare towards their adversary and then adds a muted, “Please.”

There's no compromising with Yuichi in this state, apparently, and Leonardo stays right where he got crushed between metal claws and the concrete, splayed on the ground next to those very same claws which had gotten swiftly cut from the wrist for their transgressions.

He does roll onto his side to get his body weight off his shell, and yeah, alright, one or more of the old cracks that never healed properly must have split open again. It's tough to breathe and his back feels… His kimono is sticking to his shell and his back feels wet now that he's paying attention, and that. That is not good.

Just his luck to run into a massive mecha wreaking havoc on an otherwise lovely day, huh. He wasn't even supposed to be on patrol and thus is embarrassingly swordless.

Good thing that his date and their resident samurai always carries his.

The slider watches as Yuichi does quick work of the metal hunk's wiring behind its knees, his frighteningly sharp katana slicing through the cables like butter. The mech falls with a ground-shaking rumble, unable to rise again, arm flailing as it tries to catch the rabbit. It's no use, Yuichi is much smaller and faster – and as soon as he reaches the mech's head, it's already rolling. The construct immediately loses power and Yuichi wrenches the windowed hatch in its chest open. Turns out there's no pilot, just a program-operated dashboard, and he makes sure that none of the controls are functional after he's done with them.

Leonardo thinks he could watch Yuichi trash villains all day long, he's practically mesmerised by the strength hidden in that soft frame despite his shell throbbing unpleasantly in tandem with his heartbeat. He sighs, lovestruck.

As his final move, Yuichi thrusts his katana into the heart of the mecha and Leonardo sees a spray of ink-black oil splash all over Yuichi's face and the front of his kimono. It makes him laugh and he realises his mistake too late, his lungs struggling to draw breath again as he finally gets hit with the pain, his body trying to stop him from moving; from causing any more damage. Shit, shit, shit.

He had hoped he wouldn’t need to bother any of his brothers today since he was supposed to spend the whole day with Yuichi but he knows to pick his battles, now. He opens the comm link embedded in his prosthetic, contacting someone who he knows will pick up.

“Che~ello!” comes the cheerful answer in just a few seconds, and Leonardo can't help but smile.

“Mikeyyy, hermano, I'm in a bit of a pickle,” he wheezes, feeling the shift in his little brother's energy as soon as he hears the strain in his voice.

“Leo? Are you okay?”

“Not really, no,” Leonardo grunts. “Got into a scuffle with some big haywire robot– don’t worry, that’s taken care of. I suspect Donnie will want to scrap it for parts. Um. My shell’s– my shell’s cracked though.”

Leonardo can vividly imagine the colour draining from Michelangelo's face and it would be funny if he wasn't acutely aware of a broken shell coming with the very real possibility of his innards turning into outnards.

“I'm calling Draxy. Stay put, I'll get Lee to pick you up.”

“Right,” Leonardo sighs, the line going out just when Yuichi is finally done with the mech and rushing to his side, face haphazardly wiped from oil. His gaze is sharp as he kneels next to him, sweaty and out of breath, and Leonardo thinks he looks like a knight. Or maybe like a samurai of the old, in this case.

“There’s my hero,” he coos before Yuichi can get a word out and the rabbit’s brow furrows.

“Don’t start,” he snaps but his tone softens almost immediately, “I saw you calling someone. It’s bad, isn’t it? It… it looks really bad.”

“Yeeeah, this kimono is definitely ruined,” Leonardo laments, “unless you know how to, gh, get blood out of corduroy? No? Or the obi?”

Yuichi stares.

“A– a shame, really, I did like this one a lot–”

“Leonardo!” Yuichi interrupts him and grabs his bicep, looking two seconds away from crying. Leonardo frowns. He knows he’s getting a little delirious but he was sincerely trying his best to lift his mate’s mood.

“Leon, please, you’re rambling. Is someone coming? Can I do anything?”

“‘m not rambling,” Leonardo grumbles, hissing when he fills his lungs again. “Leo’s coming to get us, Draxy– Draxum will treat the shell. And no, better keep the obi in place until we get to the medbay.”

Yuichi’s shoulders slump and he sighs, most likely relieved that he’s not going to have to figure out how to deal with a cracked shell. Leonardo does not like the lingering worry in Yuichi’s gaze one bit, though, and he offers him a grin. It’s a little shaky but whatever.

“Heeey, bunbun. Listen. This is nothing I haven’t been through before. I’ll be fine.”

Yuichi gives him an honest-to-God kicked-puppy look and Leonardo thinks it’s the most adorable thing he’s ever seen in his life. He almost tells him so but Yuichi cups his cheek and his forced grin melts away into surprised silence.

“I hate seeing you hurt,” Yuichi murmurs, leaning down to press his forehead against Leonardo’s. The slider’s eyes flutter shut and he lifts his hand to hold onto Yuichi’s wrist.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I mean it. I should’ve been more careful.”

Yuichi huffs and leans away to gently bump their foreheads together.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Maybe, but ’m still sorry. Didn’t want to worry you.”

“You’re an idiot,” Yuichi says, exasperated. “You should know that at this point, I’ll always worry.”

Leonardo grins and this time it’s genuine. Breathing in his partner’s scent is like a balm to him, even if it’s tinged with the bitterness of motor oil, even if his body currently thinks that breathing is overrated. Even if he just got called an idiot by none other than said partner.

“Raincheck on the date?” he mumbles, and finally he gets a chuckle out of the rabbit. Yuichi straightens his back and flicks him on the nose.

“Like you even needed to ask. Idiot.”

Before Leonardo can express his displeasure of being called an idiot for a second time there’s the familiar electric hum of a portal opening behind him, and someone whistles.

“Sheesh, old man. That kimono is definitely ruined.”

#NOT PROOFREAD I had to stop myself because every time I tried to check this over I kept writing MORE and that's just not sustainable #sdfghhsfghjafsfd #anyway these peepaws gay #rottmnt #rottmnt fanart #rottmnt fanfiction #leoichi #peepaw leo #peepaw yuichi #other characters mentioned + a cameo from #rise leo #future leonardo #future leo #samurai rabbit #usagi chronicles #yuichi usagi #usagi yuichi #tervdraws #tervdrabbles

154 notes · View notes

derlost · 5 months

Text

Don’t mind me, just thinking about bunny boys…

ABOUT: Wouldn’t it be so great to own a sweet little bunny boyfriend? WARNINGS: Proofread, nsfw (below cut), mentions of crying, mostly fluff & vanilla, male reader

🎀🧸🍰🤍

Thinking about cute little bunny boys. Absolute innocent sweethearts that would curl up in your lap and beg you to cuddle them, tearing up in delight as you coo into their plush ears, reassuring them that they are your favorite.

🎀☁️Cute bunny boys who smell like roses and taste like cotton candy, who enjoy warm baths with you, because it just makes them feel at home. You would ask him to fill up the tub and he’d most certainly oblige, even taking the extra step to light candles and put bubble bath in. When you wash his perky rabbit ears, he’ll giggle in delight as you itch his favorite spot. He’ll sigh happily as he lays between your legs, smiling innocently.

🎀☁️ Cute bunny boys who take care of you, cooking and cleaning, being absolutely perfect in order to please you. After a long day, you would return to an orderly home with floors so clean that they shine, and music coming from the kitchen. There stands your adorable little bunny, dressed in a soft pink apron, cooking you dinner. A giggle would escape his lips as he sets down his wooden spoon and wraps you in a hug, whispering “I missed you” into your ear.

🖇️🖤 Naughty little bunny boys who act so innocent in front of you when in reality, their minds wander to the darkest of places. If you can’t bathe with him, it’s not a problem- he’ll secretly lube himself up after his bath before climbing into bed, hiding himself under layers of blankets as he waits for you to find him.

🖇️🖤 Naughty bunny boys who cry when you tease them, acting as if they weren’t the one that got you riled up. He’ll cry and plead for you to stuff him full, crystalline tears wetting his pretty face as he clings to your shirt and whimpers for you. His ears will go flat against his head, and he’ll beg and beg until he goes dumb and loses his voice.

🖇️🖤 Naughty bunny boys who beg for you, only to cry when you finally fill them up. Pretty tears drip from his lashline and drool escapes the corner of his lips as you pound into him, kissing all along his neck, leaving him breathless. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” you find yourself saying, tightening your grip on his waist. But your precious bunny can only nod and let out a muffled ‘uh-huh’, too spent to even listen.

🖇️🖤 Naughty bunny boys who cherish your seed so, treating it as if it were liquid gold. To him at least, it really was- and even when he knows that he can’t get pregnant, his desire clouds his senses, and all he can focus on is you breeding him. After you spill your seed into him, he begs for you to stay inside- to keep it all plugged into him. When you do have to pull out however, he’ll absolutely insist that you use a pretty pink glass butt plug on him- he just can’t stand to be apart from your seed!

🧸🩷 Loving bunny boys who snuggle up in your arms after you’re both spent and tired, cuddling you to sleep. He would rest his pretty head on your chest, and would stay comfortably tucked to your side for the entire night. If you move, that’s fine- because he’ll move too. He loves nothing more than feeling you in his arms- and being your cherished one. You’re the only one he loves, and you make him so very happy…

🍰🤍 Author’s note: Hello everyone! So I know this is kind of unexpected, but lately i’ve been suuuuper fixated on bunny boys- i’m even thinking of making an oc and posting stories about him on tumblr! I’ve been active a lot more (can u tell? ;)) and i’ve also had a lot more free time on my hands, so requests are open! Per usual please like, comment, and repost if you enjoyed. Feedback is super appreciated, because as a small author, it lets me know that people see and like my work! In any case, thank you for reading!

211 notes · View notes

atozfic · 6 months

Text

a twist of the knife.

pairing. ghostface!wooyoung x fem!reader. synopsis. halloween night and you're all alone, boyfriend far from home. you've got plans- big plans- with a fully charged vibrator and a phone. what a shame you forget to check the number before picking up. warnings. slasher fic! pwp, daddy kink, noncon cheating, noncon (don't like it? don't bite it!), masturbation (f&m), sex-toys, degradation, name-calling, dirty talk, knife kink?, mask kink!, implied stalking, mentions of murder word count. 4.6k hyde’s input. listen, kids, sometimes mother (me) can't serve a three coursed meal, ok? sometimes, all mother (me) can serve are dino-nuggies and overcooked chips. just eat your meal and flush your shit when you're done (aka, this is lazy writing and i'm not 100% satisfied with this fic but i'm also too tired to try harder i'm sorry <3)

truth be told, you’ve started without him.

you’d waited, a whole twenty minutes longer than you were supposed to.

twenty two minutes and you sent a text.

babe?

the message was delivered.

no reply came your way.

another text, from you.

i should be naked by now :(

and then another.

come make me cum, u loser.

and a final message, once more from you.

or i’ll get someone else to do it <3

minutes passed, no reply came, and you stayed true to your word.

technically.

because, technically, nowhere does it say you can’t be that someone else who makes you cum.

spread on your bed, body draped in pretty black lace, only the light of a single lamp- a cheesy plastic jack-o-lantern bought by your dearest boyfriend- to shadow your movements.

the shadow dances in time with the fingers that brush down your soft skin, the drag of your sharpened nails bringing a thrilling chill down your spine.

your fingers settle, at last, on your heaving chest. they slide over the delicate fabric, scratch at the skin beneath. graze over one of your nipples, and pause.

you try to mimic his movements, memorise the perfectly choreographed routine he uses to drive you wild.

it’s hard to achieve, no matter how much you pinch and roll the hardening bud between your fingers, when your hands are not his.

too soft, too textured.

too small, too big.

too everything.

you miss the brush of his hardened fingertips, and the callous ways in which he teases you. and his gravel-deep, chocolate-smooth voice, echoing soliloquies of filth. and his thinly-dipped hips, flowing with yours in a demonstration of true poetry in motion.

suddenly, your ire grows tenfold.

because damn him for being miles away, partying in a city you’ve never been.

and damn his friends for suggesting the “boys” trip.

and damn him even more for agreeing to go and leaving you all alone.

it works in your favour, this ire, stealing away a pinch of the guilt from not waiting on him and replacing it with a heavy dose of vengeful craving.

you’d asked him to spend halloween with you house-sitting your childhood home, he made plans with his friends instead.

he’d asked you to let him see the first time you cum tonight, you’re making plans with your mirror instead.

opening your bedside drawer, you blindly reach in and find what you’re looking for: a pretty, soft, purple rabbit. it’s fully charged, in preparation for the night your boyfriend had promised you.

a night he’s now thirty six minutes and four texts late to.

you shimmy yourself further down the bed, till your feet dangle off the edge and the reflected version of you is positioned at just the right angle to witness the gathering wetness between your thighs, dampening the overpriced panties.

spreading your legs a little wider, you press the bunny to life.

in pulsing rhythms, it vibrates in your grasp, teasing the pleasure it aims to deliver as soon as you place it against your core.

instead, you switch it off.

decide you’re not ready yet.

he wouldn’t be ready yet.

a teaser, he’s a man who takes pleasure in watching you squirm, plead, beg for something, anything.

the mere memory of your boyfriend is enough to have your hips rolling up against the air, nothing but the squeeze of the fabric against your cunt to soothe the burn. a finger, middle- always the middle-, slips past your lips.

welcoming it, you feel it growing wetter at your touch, swirling your tongue around it.

your eyes fall shut. you try to picture him and his pretty-boy grin, remember just the way he likes it.

get daddy’s fingers nice and wet, pretty girl.

that’s what he’d say, because that’s what you are.

his pretty girl.

the prettiest girl.

pathetic and for your ears only, a whimper falls as you pluck your hand from your mouth. skipping over the part where he tortures you with feather-like brushes of his hands down your body, blunt ends of his nails scratching up goosebumps and leaving behind thing trails of red markings, you instead shoot directly for your core.

in the mirror, your legs inch a little wider and your teeth latch onto your bottom lip as the contrasting chill of your hand cups over the burning heat of your cunt. the scratch of red lace between your skin grows your arousal by tenfold, the cooling wet of your saliva slickened finger pressing the soaked fabric against your dripping seam.

you push a little more, hooking the tip of your finger at your entrance and squirm as the lace pinches tighter at your hips, digging marks into your skin that you’ll later compare to the one’s he so often leaves.

in the orange hue of your room, you let your mind trail off once more as you shift to sit up, knees pressing into the mattress, legs bent backwards and both feet tucked under the swell of your ass.

the image in the mirror is pure pornography: your hair still damp from an earlier shower, red lace covering pretty skin, nipples poking out against the fabric of your bra, your manicured nails resting at the apex of your thighs, teasing their way over soaked panties.

you look hot.

fuckable.

eyes slipping shut briefly, the image of him conjures behind you. his broad chest pressed against your back, his large hands roaming over your waist, his soft lips pressing indecencies into your neck.

as quickly as it appears, it disapeears, and your eyes reopen to the reality of your lonely bedroom and your lonely bed, no one upon it but you.

and the purple toy.

it’s in your grasp in a count of three seconds- no less- and buzzing to life with the delicate press of a button.

in the mirror, your thighs clench.

loneliness leads to anger leads to action, readjusting your legs a little wider and guiding the pulsating toy over your lower stomach and inching it’s way down, down, down under the hem of the expensive thong.

a fire stroked to life, the heat that comes along in the initial seconds of pleasure has your spine shooting up straight, knees digging further into the springs of the mattress as your clit welcomes the new feeling pulsing against it.

watching as your reflection cants her hips up, chasing after the waves delivered by the toy, you set to find a rhythm in all your blues.

you push aside the fact this should be your boyfriend’s mouth on your cunt, tongue lapping at your clit and fingers burrowing in between your clenching walls, and not some rubber toy.

you ignore the inherent shyness and discomfort that comes with watching yourself in this position, making eye-contact in the mirror as you fantasise about another pair of hands.

you lay to rest the stress that no contact from your boyfriend brings you, a sting of tears threatning you if you let your mind wander too far into the attrocities of life, the attrocities riddling your college campus over the past few months.

a senior, stabbed to death in his dorm.

a freshman, found discarded at the side of the road.

your friend, wide-eyed and lifeless, slumped against your bed in your dormroom-

no.

you press at the toy again, it’s pulses grow more intense, more rapid, full throttle on your pleasure till it clouds you in that heady scent of sex and drowns you in the need for release.

just as you grow closer by the minute, the sweetest little whines making their way past your bitten lips, your ringtones blairs.

loud, and clear.

it’s murder on the dancefloor, familiar lyrics echo in the small room, screen lighting up behind you. you’d better not kill the groove, dj gonna burn this goddamn house-

you don’t look, just grab blindly at where you’d left it, tossed aside and forgotten in your frustration.

hit accept, press the phone to your ear and wait.

to hear his apology, his excuses, his ways to make it up to you.

but there’s only breathing.

heavy breathing.

it reminds you of your own, thighs still shaking and the toy still faintly brushing over your slick coated clit.

“took you long enough,” you’re the first to break the ice, praying you don’t sound as shaky as you feel.

a huh rings down the line, grainy. poor signal.

he must still be out, you figure.

“i thought you’d never call,” you’re pouty, purposeful in you approach to teasing him before you deliver a killing-blow to his ego: you’ve started without him. “and i was getting so lonely.”

for effect, you press on the button again, listen as the toy gets louder as it vibrates more intensely, waves rippling your skin even as you pry it back from your clit, enjoying it’s pleasure only in the way it moves against your panties.

you wonder if he hears it too.

you want him to hear.

there’s a sharp inhale, spanning a handful of seconds and leaving you with the imagery of his head falling back, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

it says nothing, yet everything.

he’s frustrated.

he’s chastising.

he’s turned on.

“why’d you make me wait, daddy?” you say it and hope it hits a nerve. hope he’s squirming in his seat, surrounded by his friends and praying not a single one notices the tent being pitched in his pants. “that wasn’t very nice of you.”

you give an experimental roll of your hips, feeling the buzzing toy nudge against you once more, coaxing back to life the orgasm you’d let down.

a dramatised gasp leaves your mouth, aiming for him to take notice of it and just think about what you’re doing to yourself.

“no,” he finally talks and you hate how quickly your anger is to melt away, one foul swoop of his smooth voice and you melt into a puddle, waiting to be splashed around by him. “wasn’t nice of me at all, was it?”

the toy between your legs continues to hum away, coaxing you to try another roll, dip your hips down onto it.

a moan- admitedly, a bit exagerated- fills the room.

there’s no doubt he heard it.

“you sound a bit weird, baby,” in the mirror, you watch yourself tilt your head to the side, pressing the phone between your ear and your shoulder. it frees up your other hand to roam freely over your breasts, rolling one of your nipples through the lace. “is the connection bad?”

he doesn’t answer.

down the line, you pick up on more heavy breathing.

it makes you long harder for him, visualising him there, pressed up against you, heavy breathing in your ear as the tension builds between you, culminating in the buckling of your knees and the grabbing of your ass, propping you up at his desired height to pile-drive his cock into you.

in a desperate appeal for his attention, you dip the vibrator lower, pressing it’s nub against your opening, squealing at the foreign intrusion.

“d’you hear that, daddy? my pussy’s all wet,” a filthy squelch rings true as you replace the toy with your finger, squeezing it’s way into your hole. “she’s all tight with no one to stretch her out.”

the possibility that you’re setting feminism back by several centuries crosses your mind, but it’s quickly pushed aside for images of your boyfriend forcing you onto all-fours and taking you from behind, pulling at your hair to force you to stare straight ahead at the very same mirror that used to display you playing dress-up as a little girl, now displaying the way you’re sweaty and defiled.

“now, that’s just not true, pumpkin,” his voice tuts down the phone, and the disapproving tone is enough to have you slipping a second finger into your cunt. “and no one likes a liar.”

if you weren’t knuckles deep in yourself, fingers scissoring you open as you give the occasional brush of the buzzing toy over your clit, maybe you’d know what he was talking about.

instead, all you can muster is a breathless what.

“c’mon, pretty, i’ve seen that video of you taking it like a champ. stretched that slutty pussy out on all ten of those bright pink inches.”

oh.

truth be told, you wondered if he’d even seen that video you’d sent him, all shy and bashful, wanting to show off the new toy you’d gotten yourself. he’d merely reacted with a heart- and then never once brought it up, ever again.

“are you going to keep me waiting?”

you should say yes.

tell him it’s his punishment, for ignoring your texts, and partying too late, and not being beside you on the bed.

but you’re a sucker for him, caving in at his rougher than usual tone.

scurrying off your mattress, you press the phone closer to your ear and listen to the rustling of fabric on his end.

a zipper is undone.

it’s followed by a sigh of relief, one that has you picturing him freeing his cock from the confines of his too-tight jeans.

“chop, chop, pretty! i’m losing my patie-”

“i found it!” you exclaim, louder than you should.

but who cares, when you’ve got your hand wrapped around the bright pink dildo, pride flushing over your face.

“so you can fetch,” he mutters it. it’s hard to hear him, really, but you don’t want to complain. don’t want to risk him hanging up and leaving you high and dry- well, high and wet. “good to know you’re good for something.”

it’s addictive, his passiveness, coaxing you to squeeze your thighs together.

your panties are sticky with your own residue, your nipples are hard within their circumferential coffins, your fingers are soaked as they grip the pulsing toy.

you’ve still not turned it off.

“now, sit yourself down in front of that mirror and show daddy how you ride it.”

you’re across the room in a matter of seconds, slipping down so easily onto your knees, right in front of the floor-length mirror. pressing the dildo down on the ground, you listen as the suction cup sticks it in place, standing bright, and pink, and tall.

“i’m-” the call drops before you can finish your sentence.

you’re left in silence, once more, humming down the line.

it doesn’t last, phone screen lighting up once more.

only, this time, it’s a face-time call.

you waste no time on patience, blindly hitting accept and admiring the way you come in to view, back camera on and pointed directly at the your reflection.

you’re on display, down on your knees and awaiting his next command.

tearing your ego away from the small square you occupy on the screen you audibly whine at the view from his camera.

lowlights, casting shadows around him.

his head is out of frame, camera angled down onto his body.

his clothing is all black- his jeans, his t-shirt, the ring that sits round his index finger-, the only splash of colour coming from his tanned hand, curled around the base of his cock.

tugged out of his jeans, it’s red at the tip and leaking precum.

this isn’t the first time you’ve seen him this way, obviously, yet something is different.

something you like.

something that has your mouth watering and your tastebuds begging to taste the tangy, salty drip of his seed smeared all over them.

“well? get on with it, pretty girl,” tonight, he’s arrogant. demanding. “don’t quit while you’re ahead.”

staring forward, you make eye contact with yourself as you gather up the saliva in your mouth and let it drip down on to the plastic tip sitting in front of you. your free hand’s quick to wrap itself around the toy, soaking itself in your spit and working it’s way down the toy’s shaft, slickening the silicone.

on the screen, his own hand imitates yours, giving himself a slow stroke. it’s accompanied with a pleased hum.

“fucking look at you, a goddamn natural at touching cock,” his praise warms your heart and speeds up your hand, another glob of spit falling down onto the dildo, getting it prepped to nestle it between your thighs. “it’s what slut’s like you live for, ain’t it? taking it from anyone who’ll give it.”

god, you want to say no. you really do.

but you’re hardly in a position to argue your case, soaked panties and heaving chest, willing to do just about anything he asks of you.

“don’t be shy, c’mon, let me see how good that little pussy of yours is.”

inching yourself closer, knees dragging on the floor below, you grind against the pink toy, eyes rolling back as it brushes between your panty-clad folds, nudging at your clit.

“move them to the side,” miles away, and resigned to merely your cellphone, he puppets you, invisible strings tethered between his voice and your hands, willing and ready to move anyway he commands them too. “wanna watch you take it.”

you do as he says. hook your fingers into the red lace, slide it to one side and ignore the way it digs and scratches into your skin, bunched up tight against it.

first, you make sure you're in view, hand as steady as it can be and pointed straight ahead at the mirror.

then, you let yourself sink down.

take just the tip, feel it prod at your entrance and stretch you open, a greedy cunny willing to fit anything and everything to get the sweet release of friction.

you suck a breath in through your teeth, let it out through your nose.

in earnest, you’d forgotten the sheer girth of the toy and, eyeing your reflection and witnessing the offensively pink silicone cock beneath you fills you with a trickle of regret.

the plan this evening was just to use your vibrator and trusty fingers, not stretch yourself open beyond sense.

then again, the plan this evening had been for him to call you nearly three quarters of an hour earlier, blushy cheeked and wide-eyed, smiling down at you through his camera.

“pft, that’s pathetic,” he scoffs from within your phone screen, hand no longer working over his length. it rests, instead, beneath his balls, toying with the skin and rolling the heft of them over his veined hands. “you’re pathetic. ‘s that all you’re gonna take, huh?”

you take it like a challenge, just like he knew you would.

smoothing your free hand over your thigh, you feel the rigid muscles beneath and will them to relax, let go, give in to need to be full. moments later, you watch in the mirror as you sink further down on the toy.

it’s hard to recognise yourself this way and it sparks questions of if this is how he sees you, all dressed up and messed up, lips swollen at the hands of your own teeth, lashes damp with your own tears.

you really are the prettiest girl.

“tick-tock, time’s moving. keep going.”

as you sink down on the rest of the toy, heart in your throat as all your nerves spark ablaze, your eyes are on him, watching in grainy picture as he delicately runs his finger up the underside of his cock. he traces a vein and it has him jolting, a whimpered laugh quietly playing through your speakers.

“that’s it, knew you could do it for me,” it really is all for him, his praise merely a consequence of your compliance. “good to know you’re not a complete brain-dead idiot.”

the heat of your childhood bedroom is stiffling, choking you on it’s syrupy air, the heady stench of lust dancing up to your nostrils.

you wonder if his surroundings are the same: clammy, sex-smelling, erotic.

"tell me how it feels," he demands.

"full," is all you manage, head slumping forward and granting you the view from above of your puffy lips, squeezing around the toy’s base.

“for a slut like you? that’s nothing.”

he’s tempting you, cock on full display on your phone-screen.

it has you salivating, walls clenching around the pink silicone.

you’ve never wanted him so bad, needed him so bad.

in your hand, in your mouth, in you.

cock-hungry and touchstarved, you whine his name and beg for something you’ve yet to even understand.

all that you know is you need him, all of him, and you need him to feel the same.

“what’re you waiting for, an invitation?” oh, he growls, voice scratching on his ire and desperation. it’s spine-tingling. “start fucking the toy, princess.”

the first thrust is the deepest.

lifting yourself right off the toy, feeling the over-exaggerated tip of it resting between your folds, you sink back down with a single slam of your hips, hand jutting forward to grab at the mirror.

fingerprints on the glass, you try not to think about how you’ll have to clean it later.

“‘s that all you got?” he’s mean tonight, you think, his praise far more scarce than you’re used to. usually, you take an inch and he’s ready to throw you a parade. you like this side, though, like the fight for approval. “i’ve seen nuns take it faster than that.”

it’s hypochondria.

it’s a simile.

it’s symbolism.

it’s a lie.

but you let it get to you, let it fester down into your loins and build itself a nest within, infecting your bloodstream with it’s elusive possibilities.

you come down on the toy again, and follow it up with another quick lift of your hips, your own slick leaving it’s shiny residue on the dildo as you watch it slide out of you.

when you glance at the screen, you can see he’s started stroking his cock, shameless and unfiltered moans and whimpers coming from somewhere off screen.

usually, he’s a groaner, a grunter, snuffing out his little noises with presses of his lips to your skin, and teeth piercing into flesh.

this is another welcomed change.

matching the rhythm of his wrist, you begin to ride the plastic cock in earnest, letting yourself get lost in the fantasies of him beneath you, hands pawing at your waist and fingernails indenting your delicate skin.

his filth riddled rambles continue on, lyrics to the symphony of music created as you play yourselves like instruments, plucking the right string and stroking the right chord to make your music play.

“that’s it, pretty, fill that greedy pussy up.”

his hand speeds up.

your wrists chase to catch up.

“dirty slut, answering calls while she’s touching herself.”

up, and down.

and up, and down.

you’re fighting the muscle cramp in your thigh, and willing yourself to get rid of that hyper-aware conscious of yours, surrender yourself to ebb and flow of electric currents taking hold of your senses.

“just desperate for anyone to see you like this, aren’t you?”

you’re not even aware of your own head nodding, or the chants of yes, yes, yes that you’re giving.

you’re just living for the drag of the toy, in and out, filling you to the brim.

the reflection paints a portrait, an artwork for any eyes who dare witness. messy hair, running mascara, smeared lipstick. panties pushed aside, cunt on display, tits bouncing in lace confines each time your hips fall back down.

you watch as this sex-goddess version of you reaches out her hand, grasping fingers at the rabbit and bringing a burst of purple to the space between your thighs.

there’s no care to fix the setting, just a squeeze of a button and away you go, vibrator pressed to your clit as you fuck yourself on the toy again, and again, and again.

he hums in approval, calls you his smart slut, and you keen at his words, eyes glazing over with tears.

it’s all becoming too much.

too overwhelming.

you’re ready to crash and burn, open the floodgates to hell and throw yourself into the lakes of pleasure.

“hmm, pretty girl, y’know red really is your colour,” he’s embarrassingly more composed than you are. not a shake in his breath, not a stutter to his words. just the occasional moan, and the visible tightening of his fingers around his cock. “i’d love to see you dripping in it.”

everything comes crashing inwards. the length of the toy, ramming into you each time your hips crash down on it; the buzz of the vibrator, rippling your skin and stealing your sense; the erotic display of him, legs spread wide as he fucks up into his hand, tiny flecks of precum staining his skin. it’s all too much stimuli, sending you full throttle of the edge of reality.

you cum with a gasp, a cry, a shiver down your spine and a bust of warmth between your legs. like raging waters, the feeling flows, and crashes, and stains everything in it’s soaking madness.

it’s on your thighs, on the floor, even on the mirror, visual evidence of a climax you never knew was possible for yourself.

“fuck, fuck!” he’s still going, more desperate than ever, the repeated schlick-schlick of his hand taking over the beating of your heart. “d’you just squirt, huh? filthy, filthy pussy, got herself and all her belongings wet. go on, don’t be shy, lick your mirror clean-”

your phone buzzes.

it’s a fight through the orgasmic haze to read the screen.

yunho <3 - sorry babe, the guys keep buying rounds

yunho <3 - promise i’ll phone you as soon as i can

it takes reading it twice more to really read it.

process it.

understand it.

your heart drops to your stomach.

your lungs swell till they threaten to burst out your ribs.

your legs scramble off the toy, head shaking frantically.

no, no, no.

“what’s wrong, pumpkin?” god, you feel sick.

that’s not your boyfriend’s voice.

you watch the phone, paralysed in your own fear.

there he appears, in all his masked glory, haunting you straight out of your nightmares.

that very same mask, months ago, stood in your room watching over you, a blood soaked knife in his hand and your dead roommate at his feet.

“c’mon, silly girl, don’t tell me you didn’t know,” his words fill your throat with bile. because he’s right, how did you not know? “no, mister ghostface, i just thought my boyfriend’s cock got fatter! pathetic.”

oh god, oh god. yunho, you picture him now, sat among his seven friends, joking over alcohol infused delusions and awaiting his return to his hotel room, to call you and give you the night he’d promised you.

meanwhile, you’re naked, and afraid, and still reeling from the orgasm you’d let this crazed murderer prey witness to.

to make matters worse, you hate the way you’re not as scared as you should be.

or, really, that you’re as turned on as you are put off by the idea of this cruel torturer.

visions of riding that hollow-cheeked mask are fleeting, but vivid enough to have your eyes welling in shameful tears and your legs jumping in remorseful delight.

“you still want it, don’t you?” you should be looking away, hanging up, calling the police. not staring, wide-eyed and unblinking, as the man- the monster on your screen slaps the head of his hard cock against a toned stomach. and you definitely shouldn’t imagine him slapping the head of his cock against your asshole, teasing you with the fear of being defiled only to plunge deep into your cunt in one foul swoop. “yeah, you do. can see you rubbing your thighs together just at the sight of it. bet you’d like to know how’d it feel to be fucked nice and full of me while my knife’s pressed to your throat. just edging you between your orgasm and your deat-”

you hang up.

sit back.

count to ten.

ten.

nine.

eight.

seven.

your ringtone blares again.

unknown caller.

you hit ignore.

restart counting.

make it to four this time.

it calls again.

ignore.

you phone buzzes.

the notification reads unknown - 1 message.

messenger opens.

a picture.

of your house, taken from across the street. it’s dark, only the light of your bedroom and, within it, the blurred image of you. earlier, fresh out the shower wrapped in a fluffy white towel.

you phone buzzes, once more, and a text appears just beneath the image.

unknown- close ur courtains, u never know who’s watching.

you take a deep breath, stare out your window.

type out a reply.

curtains*

and block the number.

#ateez smut #jung wooyoung smut #ateez x reader #jung wooyoung x reader

374 notes · View notes

fluff-a-nutter · 6 months

Text

Gangles Secret

((Ler!Jax Lee Gangle. SFW Only! Not a ship!))

Gangle sat on her bed sniffing quietly as she doodled in her journal. Her comedy mask had been broken again and drawing always helped her feel better. The ribbon character was drawing some slightly embarrassing sketches of herself being tickled silly. She had always wanted someone to gently tickle her, but she could never ask for it, so this was the next best thing.

Gangle was so deep into her doodles, she didn’t hear her door open or the sound of footsteps approaching.

“Hey crybaby, Ragatha says I’m supposed to come apologize for breaking your mask again so- heeeey, whatcha drawing?” Gangle nearly threw herself off her bed at the sound of Jax’s teasing voice.

“J-Jax! Nothing, just doodles!” She stammered out, holding her journal close to her chest. If she could blush, she would have been beet red in the face. Jax raised an unconvinced eyebrow and snatched the book from Gangle, causing her to cry out in a panic.

“Jax no!” The resident bunny snickered as he opened the notebook. Luckily, the more embarrassing stuff was more in the center.

“What, you drawing something nasty? My, my Gangle, I didn’t think you were so dirty minded.” Gangle whimpered and tried to grab her journal back, while Jax wandered in circles while he flipped absently through the pages. He had to admit, most of the sketches were actually pretty good.

“Dang, kid. You aren’t half bad at this drawing thing. I’m sure Caine would love you to design something for new scenes or- oh! What’s this?” Jax’s rare compliment was cut off as he saw Gangles tickle art. He looked at the drawings and then at Gangle, who looked ready to sink into the very ground.

“J-Jax…. Please don’t tell the others.” She whimpered, twisting her ribbon hands nervously. Jax’s cheeky grin faltered a bit. He was torn- on the one hand, he totally wanted to tell the gang. On the other hand, he was worried that might break poor Gangle, and loathe as he was to admit it, he cared about her feelings.

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell ‘em. Scouts honor.” Jax held up 3 fingers in a salute. Gangle relaxed a tiny bit.

“Yah know, if this is the sorta thing you want, I’d be happy to give it to you.” Jax said, closing the book and setting it to the side. Gangle looked stunned.

“R-really? You don’t think it’s weird.” Jax’s grin returned.

“Oh, it’s weird as [BLEEP]. But that’s nothing new here.” Jax plunked himself on the bed next to the drama character.

“So! What’ll it be? You want me to, Yah know.” Jax raised his hands and wiggled his fingers at Gangle, who couldn’t suppress the tiniest giggle.

“U-Uhmmmm….. okay. Just be gentle?” Jax smiled brightly and stood.

“I’ll be right back! Don’t move.” Jax sprinted out of the room, leaving Gangle confused and flustered. What on earth was Jax up to? She didn’t have to ponder this very long before the rabbit came back with an armful of tickly supplies. The sight alone made Gangle feel strangely giddy inside.

“Jax…. Wh-what is all that?” She asked as the bunny laid everything out.

“Just a few supplies. Your drawings had a ton of this stuff, so I thought you might like ‘em.” Jax explained gesturing to the assortment of feathers, paintbrushes, and what looked a bit like makeup brushes.

“O-oh…l-…..Jax you really didn’t have to go through all this trouble for me. It’s okay if you don’t want to do this.” Jax turned to face her, planting his fists on his hips.

“Are you kidding? What about me says I wouldn’t take this opportunity to mess with you?” Gangle fell silent. He did have a very good point.

“Now! Where to begin?” Jax drawled, pacing in a circle around Gangle, twirling a long feather between his thumb and index finger. He may have promised to keep her secret, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t gonna tease her relentlessly. Gangle giggled nervously as she eyed him.

“J-Jahahax. Don’t do that!” Jax smirked cheekily at her.

“Don’t what? I’m just trying to find a perfect spot to attack first.” Gangle squeaked and hid her face shyly at the teasing. Jax grinned viciously and swiped the feather under where he chin would be, causing her to squeal.

“EEK! Jax it tickles!” She tittered uncovering her face so she could halfheartedly bat the rabbit away. Jax smiled and retracted the feather, checking to make sure Gangle was alright. She gave him a wobbly smile.

“Y-you stopped.” She remarked. Jax nodded.

“Want me to continue?” He teased, flicking the feather across where Gangles stomach would be making her flinch with a fit of giggles.

“Y-yehehahahah.” Jax beamed and switched his feather out for a paintbrush.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” He replied using the brush to stroke shapes along Gangle’s mask, while his free hand skittered lightly between her middle ribbon loops making sure to keep his touch light, sending her into fits of bright laughter. When Jax switched tools again and used the makeup brush beneath her chin and along her jaw, Gangle squealed with laughter, hiccuping in between giggles.

“Jahahahax! *hic* Nohoho mohohore! Pleahehehease!” Gangle wrapped her satin hands around the bunny’s wrists and gently pushed, signaling that she was at her limit. Jax took the hint and ceased his tickles, dropping the brush.

“Heh, you okay Gangle?” He asked, while the masked character caught her breath.

“Hehehe yeah. Thanks Jax. I-I needed that.” She answered, smiling shyly at the purple rabbit. Jax waved her off.

“Hey, no problem. And, if you ever want more, you know,” Jax paused and wiggled his fingers lightly at Gangle,

“Just come visit your old pal Jax and I’ll getcha good.” Gangle nodded and smiled softly.

“O-okay. I’ll try.” Jax winked and stood.

“Oh, by the way. You really should smile more. Even without your comedy mask it’s nice.” Gangle made a flustered noise and chucked a pillow at Jax who ran out laughing. But she did feel much better and when she joined her friends for dinner, her comedy mask was fixed and waiting at her spot with a note that read,

“In case of emergency, here’s your smile.”

The small doodle in the corner was a messy self portrait of a certain rabbit. Gangle considered herself very lucky indeed.

A/N: Hey guys ! Thanks for reading! I was inspired by an incredible piece of art done by @unnamable-lee! The lee!gangle drawing they did was absolutely adorable, so naturally I had to write a fic for it. Hope you all enjoyed!

#tadc tickles #ler!jax #lee!gangle #tickle community #sfw tickle community #tickle fluff

195 notes · View notes

lolahauri · 2 months

Text

: ̗̀➛ Sebastian: Smut Alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Considering he’s the sub/bottom, you’ll probably being doing more of the aftercare.

He does love to hold you till you fall asleep though.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Besides your hips/waist (fluff alphabet), i think he’d be a tits guy.

Big or small, he loves watching them bounce when your riding him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Loves cumming on your stomach or inside you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Lowkey would share you with Sam if you wanted.

He’s kind of a cuck.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

None. You were his first, that’s part of the reason he’s so needy and dtf, he just can’t believe someone as hot as you really wants to fuck him.

(Plus all those years of pent up sexual frustration)

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Cowgirl!

He’s obsessed with you dominating him and taking control.

Mating press.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Very serious, you won’t ever catch him making a joke.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Darker than his hair and straight.

Keeps it nicely trimmed for you.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Pretty intimate. I wouldn’t say he’s romantic though.

But he’ll definitely be telling you how good your making him feel, how beautiful you are, feeling up your whole body and worshipping it.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

When he was single: daily. Either watching porn, or thinking about you.

Now: only when you aren’t in the mood (or if you wanna watch him)

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding, mommy/daddy, femdom, edging, orgasm control, praise, dirty talk, hair pulling, biting, mutual masturbation/watching each other masturbate, dry humping, oral fixation.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Your bed or the couch.

When he was living with his parents: his desk or bed.

Imagine sucking him off or cockwarming him while he’s working.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Anything about you, really.

He’s pretty easy to arouse.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Degrading/verbal humiliation.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Equally loves both.

Cumming down your throat is amazing, but he also loves to serve you and make you feel good.

Honestly once he starts going down on you, he won't stop until you tell him to. He loves it so much.

A lot of times he'll get so horny from it that he'll grind on the bed until he cums.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He’s a needy little bitch, so fast and hard.

He fucks like a rabbit in heat.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Loves them, he’d have one anytime you want.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Mostly down to experiment, i don’t think he’s into anything extreme or really painful though.

He’d be down for some mild CBT maybe.

Risk wise, he’d def fuck you in the bathhouse locker room.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can last quite a while if he’s being edged.

Otherwise he cums a little quick.

But it’s kind of adorable, you just feel so good and look so hot that he can’t help but cum in just a few minutes.

But to make up for his quick finish, he can go multiple rounds.

Would absolutely overstimulate himself until he’s crying if it means he gets to stay inside you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t own any, but if you had some he’d absolutely use them. (on you or him)

Like…

Vibrators, cock rings, fleshlights, etc...

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He can’t tease, he sucks at it.

But man he loves it when you do it.

Moving past him and “accidently” grinding your ass on his crotch >>

Doing little things throughout the day to turn him on, just to make him wait till that night to get off.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

So loud and vocal.

Lots of whines, whimpers, and moans.

Probably a lot of begging too <3

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Prefers hentai over "real" porn.

Imagine jerking him off while he’s watching hentai!?

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

About 6.5 inches and average girth, maybe leaning to the thicker side.

A little veiny and curved upwards.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Semi-high, he’d love to fuck at least once a day, even if it’s just a quickie.

But he’ll happily accommodate to your sex drive, whether it’s lower or higher.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He waits until your ready for bed.

Holds you like a teddy bear as you two fall asleep.

#x reader #smut #smut alphabet #sdv sebastian #sdv sebastian x reader

112 notes · View notes

sw33t-d1vine · 6 months

Text

YOU’RE SO CREEPY

SPRINGTRAP x GN!READER

ー cw : fluff , halloween !!!! , just u dressing up as springtrap :3

ー word count , 2671

ー a/n : hii !! october has been so busy.. BUT , in honour of the fnaf movie and halloween , i have this fic !!! im also changing my theme again…. this fic was inspired by my own halloween costume :3 i dressed up as him for halloween…. AND one of the costumes mentioned at the end is a costume my bff went as ! i hope u all like this silly fic :3 i’ll get back to reqs soon !!!

・Enjoy what you read ? come join my discord server to see sneak peaks and chat with me and other friends ! Link in my pinned post :)

ー Halloween was something most people adored, including yourself. This year, you had picked to go as Springtrap for your costume. You had made the ears, customized and DIY’ed the whole costume, and prop. Maybe no one would know who you were going as, but who cared. Maybe you just wanted to dress up as a killer zombie bunny.

Springtrap had yet to even see your costume, let alone even know what you are. You only told him it was a surprise, and he’d have to wait and see. Which he thought was stupid.

That was a few weeks ago. He waited days just to see what you were gonna dress up as, and when you came downstairs all dressed up in your costume, his dead heart almost stopped.

His eyes trailed over your body, looking at every detail on the costume. The fake bones sticking out, the fake wires all hanging out, and the big ears on your head that matched his. You had also done your own makeup, making it look like you had scares everywhere.

You really pulled this costume off, he loved it. Even if he didn’t like his own form, he loved how you dressed up as him. It was.. cute.

You held the fake knife prop you made in your hand, giving him a shy smile. “Thoughts?”

Springtrap let out a hum, “I love it.” He tilted his head, watching you do a spin to show off the rest of it. “Very detailed.. and you made all of it?”

Nodding your head, your smile grew. “I did. Since you don’t come to my room a lot, it was pretty easy to hide it from you.” You explained, fiddling with the fake knife.

“How long did it take?” He asked, cocking his head to the side, his ears slightly flopping.

You thought for a moment, thinking. It really didn’t take too long to make.. You thrifted most of the costume and just heavily styled it and added fake wires and such. “I’d say maybe.. 2 or 3 days. Not too long.” You chuckled.

“It’s still very well done..” Springtrap hummed, glancing at the front door. You had left a bowl of candy so you could give them out to trick or treaters. He wished he could do it with you, but he knows he’d probably scare any kids that came. Which would be funny to him, but you’d probably scold him later about it.

When the doorbell rang, you turned your head to the door as well. “Looks like we have our first trick or treater.” You hummed, walking over to the door.

Springtrap watched you hand out the candies to the kids, one who was dressed up as Coraline, and another was a ghost. How cute.

The night went on for a while, kids coming to the door and you handing candies out. A few kids questioned your costume, and you only said you were dressed up as a zombie rabbit. They wouldn’t exactly understand who you were dressed up as.. but he did. and he adored it.

He adored you.

#william afton #fnaf #springtrap #five nights at freddys #fnaf william afton #william afton x reader #william afton x you #springtrap x reader #five nights at freddy's

167 notes · View notes

satoruhour · 5 months

Note

hi t!!! i hope you're well. saw that your requests are open and i'm actually nervous bec this is my first time ever sending a request (⁠๑⁠•⁠﹏⁠•⁠)

may i request gojo being jealous or pouty over reader simping over a celebrity (nct maybe or mark lee especially) (i read that you used to write for nct hehehe) (i'm on nct rabbit hole for the past few days) or or or bassist!suguru teaching reader how to play the guitar maybe?

(am i doing this right? (⁠*⁠・⁠～⁠・⁠*⁠) )

anyway, have a good rest of your day/night!!!

a/n: omg my love im sorry this took so long! i hope you enjoy, i wrote both but ill post it separately :)

five hours. that’s how long your boyfriend’s been sulking and ignoring you and throwing mini tantrums every now and then. all because you liked to tune into youtube a little too much to look at a bunch of boys (“26, mind you! why do they need so many members anyway?” gojo would say) dance and sing at the same time.

“NCT U this, NCT Dream that, what about NCT Tokyo?” gojo paces the room the very first time you explain the whole concept to him — a group of unlimited members while some are sorted into specific sub-groups that represent specific concepts. gojo gets part of it, but doesn’t understand why they needed to be so attractive.

“they do have an NCT Tokyo, actually! newly formed!” you grin, knowing this information would only set him off, and since then, every comeback, every variety show, every photoshoot behind-the-scenes video that you blast on the living room television is enough to get your boyfriend in the most terrible mood.

but one thing that really sets the sorcerer off is your obsession with the canadian singer slash rapper, mark lee. you admired the work he put in — training since he was young and miles away from his family. he debuted at only sixteen and made a name for himself ever since then, always putting in his 200% for everything that he does. mark’s face shows up way more often than the group videos, gojo notices; a lot of the specific fancams that focus on his performance, or those fan-made compilation videos.

it’s not like you’ve been playing videos non-stop, either. you offered gojo to wave his white flag whenever you went to do chores, made lunch, did some reports, but none came.

so you might as well enjoy a few more videos until you break the ice. you reach hour four when you feel a little bad about the glares he’s giving the tv, seated on the far other end of the sofa while you enjoy the fancam videos of fact check.

curiously, out of the corner of your eye, there’s just a bit of change in your boyfriend’s expression, a scowl still deep on his face but his eyebrows are not as furrowed, eyes not as narrowed and squinted as he liked it to be. having dated since high school, you already know what’s going in that head of his — you know he finds mark at least a little attractive, but his pride wouldn’t let him tell you that.

“see anything you like?” you hear the audible gasp of gojo when you call out to him, letting the video go on not because you watched it a couple times already (while not entirely wrong) but you think gojo still outshines any k-pop idol on the big screen.

“no . .” he mumbles, sinking into himself more and more to prevent you from looking at his expression; but the foot-tapping, the secretive eyes, the head bobs all give him away. you know you’ve got him figured out when you scoot over and he doesn’t move, letting you untangle his fortress of shame shown in his body language.

“you can tell me he’s pretty, you know that right?” you giggle, lifting his arm to slot yourself under it. you fit just right upon his bent knees, looking up at the familiar frown on his face. gently, you peel away the blindfold on his face, greeted with the stark blue eyes that you find yourself falling deeper into each day.

“no comment.”

you laugh at his stubbornness, a hand caressing his cheek as you try to contain your smile. even now, he’s not doing a very good job of catching glances at the television and sulking.

“okay, then, i guess i’ll just continue to watch my videos, then, since tomorrow is an off-day.”

“no! i-i mean . . uh,” gojo is torn between admiring your favourite idol and staying jealous, but he can’t formulate words when you stare at him like that; a crinkle in your eyes and just a sliver of your teeth while your eyes sparkle under the apartment lighting.

“ugghhhh . . i don’t know,” gojo buries his face in his hands, “why do you like him so much anyway? do you like him more than me?”

you hum, striking a faux pose of pondering and your boyfriend only whines again at that, accidentally putting down his knees and your support from behind you is made void immediately. if it wasn’t for your arms that hung around his shoulder, you would’ve landed on his lap pretty harshly.

gojo only huffs after also doing his part: an arm replacing his thighs to keep you from falling. there you hang awkwardly, still faced with gojo’s adorable pout, “mark lee definitely couldn’t have done that. i’ll tell you that much.”

you roll your eyes with a big grin, “oh, you big jealous oaf, c’mere.”

without warning you latch yourself onto him, slightly tackling him into a violent embrace with your lips on his and gojo sighs indefinitely like he’s been waiting all day for it. he just lets you have your way with him, letting you kiss him like you’ve never done before. he hums into your mouth, submitting to you as you climb into his lap.

“so i’m assuming you like me more than him?”

your boyfriend teases as you pull away, hands caressing your sides and sending chills right down to your centre.

“do you really have to ask?” you giggle, fully taking off his blindfold, now, brushing your fingers through his hair. through the corner of your eye, you see him play with the left and right buttons possibly to find a spicy playlist you two could get down to (his words, not yours), but before it can even start:

the playlist’s interrupted by an advert for nature republic with mark’s voice that plays through the speakers, panning out to eight other boys on a beach and smiling as if they’re aware of the torment they harboured.

your sorcerer boyfriend merely throws his hands up in frustration (“oh, come on!”), melting into the couch with a permanent scowl while the living room only fills up with your loud laughter.

#euuughhhh idk how to feel abt this but i should be kinder to myself considering i havent written for a whole month #and is currently burning up #it's only up from here ig #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojou x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk drabbles #jjk scenarios

140 notes · View notes

makethatelevenrings · 1 year

Text

Shame // J. Todd x f!reader

Requested: Yes!

Warnings: vaginismus! painful intercourse! emotional outbursts! a lot of swearing! discussion of sex but no actual depiction of it so minors you’re permitted but ur on thin fucking ice, discussion of safe sex practices

Summary: Sometimes, your body doesn’t want to work during sex. People assure you that it’s normal, but the shame still causes you to lash out sometimes, hurting the person you love the most.

A/N: gotham knights jason is absolute babygirl and if u don’t want to *dolphin noises, car crash screech, tornado siren* him, then ur a coward (/j) but that leaves more for me ;)

“It’s normal,” your OBGYN had assured you. “And it happens. You don’t need to feel ashamed by it.”

But you can’t help the tears that burn at the back of your eyes when Jason first starts to press into you and it burns. It wasn’t the first time the two of you had fucked. Hell, it wasn’t even the tenth time. Having dated for three years, the two of you had fucked like rabbits many, many times. But sometimes, your body just didn’t want to, despite the fact that your mind was all for it.

Jason seemed to notice that you were tighter than normal and he drew back slightly before thrusting in again. Your fingernails dug into his shoulder, but you refused to tell him to stop. It would get easier the more he worked you open, right? Your OBGYN told you that in these cases, it was best to just rest for the night but-

A whimper escaped you as he rolled his hips and tears of pain built in your eyes. Jason’s harsh breaths grated on your ears and suddenly, it all became too much. You couldn’t do this. It hurt like a bitch.

“Blueberry,” you gasped out.

Jason slid out without question and immediately stood as you curled in on yourself, knees drawn up to your chest to guard yourself from the world. You rested your forehead on your knees and then let out a broken sob.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you cried.

“What’s wrong?” Despite being the scourge of the Gotham underground and a tank of a man, Jason sounded terrified in that moment. He kneeled down next to the bed and stretched a hand out towards you but you flinched back. Hurt flickered in his eyes and you instantly wished that you weren’t such a fuck up.

“Baby, you used the safe word. Please tell me what’s wrong,” he pleaded. Jason Todd, the strongest man you knew, was on his knees and begging.

“I’m sorry. It hurt. I couldn’t…it wouldn’t fucking relax and I ruined everything.” Hot tears spilled down your cheeks and you inhaled sharply through your nose. Snotty breaths escaped you in short pants and you wiped futilely at your damp skin. Jason’s calloused fingers enclosed around your wrists and he climbed onto the bed so he could kneel beside you.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he assured you. “You did exactly the right thing by using the safeword and-”

“We shouldn’t need a safeword!” you exploded. “Don’t you see? Why the fuck do you put up with me and my broken fucking body, Jason? You could stick your dick in any warm body you wanted in Gotham but for some reason, you’re such a fucking masochist.”

Your chest heaved from your exerted shouts and you turned your head to stare at him and god, how you instantly wanted to take it all back. Jason stared at you with such a wounded look on his face that your already breaking heart was cleaved in two. Maybe this would do it. This was the time he would finally get up and walk out.

Jason hesitated for a moment and then he stood up and headed towards the dresser on the other side of the room. You watched him with glassy, tear-filled eyes, waiting for him to pull out a duffle bag and start packing. Instead, he merely pulled out a pair of sweats and tugged them on so he wasn’t fully naked.

“You deserve someone who can give you what you want,” you blurted out right before one of his shirts collided gently with your face. You scrambled to put it on, tugging the collar down just in time to see Jason whirl on you with his pointer finger outstretched and pain etched on his handsome face.

“Shut the fuck up and just listen for once,” he snarled. He reached up and tugged at his roots before beginning to pace the floor of your small bedroom. “Can’t fuckin’ believe what I’m hearing. For someone so smart, you are really so fucking stupid sometimes.”

Both of his hands were now in his hair, tugging and massaging across his scalp, and then he stopped and faced you again, hands falling to slap against his thighs.

“How could you say that?” His voice, deep and warm and every bit your Jason’s and not that modulated crap that came out of his helmet, broke.

“I could…I would never,” he stammered out. “We have the word for a goddamn reason and that’s because I would never be able to live with myself if I hurt you. Especially if you had the opportunity to tell me you were hurting but you felt like you needed to fucking…I don’t know, service me?! Goddamnit. Please, please, baby, tell me this has never happened before. Tell me that I’ve never hurt you.”

He fell to his knees before you and then he was crying. Your Jason was weeping. Strong, everlasting Jason who faced down the worst of the worst with a sneer and a quip on his lips had collapsed in front of you. You wanted to reach out and comfort him, but you felt like your touch would do more harm than good right now.

“No, never. This was the first time,” you whispered.

He buried his head in his hands and you could see his shoulders relax just a fracture before he was blinking up at you with red-rimmed eyes. “If I ever treat you like some glorified fleshlight that I use to get off, then I would personally drag my ass to Dick’s apartment and tell him to beat me senseless with his fucking escrima sticks. Do you understand me?”

His hands curled around the back of your calves and he pulled you closer to the edge of the bed. You finally reached out and cupped your hands around his face, nodding in understanding. Jason chewed at his bottom lip, his eyes searching and scanning your face for some kind of answer or sign or way to fix this. He let his head drop to rest against your stomach and you slid your fingers in the silk short strands of dark hair that rested at his neck.

“I don’t deserve anyone, and I especially don’t deserve you,” he croaked out. “I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. We’ll take it easy. You have those dilators from the pelvic floor therapist and I can massage you and-”

You eased him back up to be face to face with you and you brushed his errant curls out of his face. “I’m sorry, I was just upset. I never meant to make you feel like this. Jason, you are the greatest man alive and I am so, so fucking sorry for making you doubt that.”

His large hand came up to cradle the back of your head and he pulled you flush against his bare torso. You tucked your face into the crook of his neck and yanked him down to lay next to you on the bed. He went willingly and covered half of your body with his, ensuring that he was between you and the door as if anyone would be stupid enough to go after the Red Hood’s girl.

“I just feel like a failure when it happens,” you explained. “Like I can’t give you what you want. And that’s not fair to you.”

“What’s not fair to me,” he corrected. “Is that you think that what I want is more important than your comfort and health. I’m not with you because you’re great in bed, which you really fucking are. This isn’t a one and done, screw them and lose them kind of situation. Jesus, my name is on the lease. We have plants. I’m all in, sweetheart. Don’t you ever forget that.”

You stroked your fingers along the planes of his face, squirming up so you were nose to nose with him. Jason wiped some stray tears from your cheeks and then grasped your hand so he could bring it to his lips and lay a delicate kiss along your knuckles.

“And we have a safe word because it’s called basic fucking safe sex practices,” he growled once he stopped decorating your skin with kisses. “It’s not just for when you’re in pain, but also when we’re going too hard. Hell, even I can use it. You got that? There is no fucking shame in using our word. And there’s no fucking shame in not wanting to have sex or not being able to have sex. If I ever, ever make you feel pressured into it, there’s a knife in the nightstand and I want you to cut my dick off.”

You let out a teary giggle and he squeezed a hand along your hip. “I’m not kiddin’, sweets. Hack it off and display it for the whole damn city. Viking women used to do that if their husbands wronged them. Can you do that for me?”

“I’m not going to chop your dick off, Jay.”

He squeezed your hip again, a little firmer this time, and looked at you with such deadly calm that you realized his enemies should be grateful that he wore a mask. “Promise me. Promise me that you will never let me hurt you.”

“I promise. But I know that you would never hurt me.” You slid your fingers along his collarbone, over the puckered stars emblazoned on his body that reminded you of the numerous kisses with death he had experienced. You leaned down and pressed a soft kiss over a nasty knife scar on his left pec.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed against his skin. He stroked his hand up and down your bicep and tucked you impossibly closer.

“Apology accepted, sweets. What can I do to help you right now?”

You intertwined your legs with his and looked out at the orange light of the fading sun painted across Gotham’s skyline. A sigh passed your lips and then you laid another kiss to his shoulder.

“Just this.”

You knew he would have to leave in a few hours, donned in his usual body armor, leather jacket, and thigh holsters. But for now, you could just savor the warmth, the safety he offered. Jason buried his face against your head and he kissed the crown of your head.

“Just this,” you repeated softly.

Tag List: @khaetiin @mcrmarvelloki @gone-batty-fics @someoneimsure @perpetual-fangirl900 @visagebrise @cursedandromedablack @alexxavicry @the-wayward-daughter @raging-trash-of-mind @kat-nee @khaylin27

#jason todd imagine #jason todd #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #red hood #jason todd x reader

494 notes · View notes

elsweetheart · 1 year

Note

ellie x crybaby! reader :((

a few lazy hcs :( bc she is meee !!

• nothing surprises her anymore !! she knows u are a big crybaby

• she’ll see you scrubbing tears away with the back of your hand and she’ll walk over to you, shielding you from everyone else as she places a hand on ur arm

• “what happened, babe?” her tone is light and casual, maybe because she’s used to it but also bc she finds keeping the tone light helps you get out your mood easier

• “jesse said he killed a rabbit… s-so they could cook it.” your lip wobbled as you turned and point at jesse who was talking and laughing about something else with dina.

• “ohhh, babe.” she cooed sympathetically, pulling your head to her shoulder so that you wouldn’t see the guilty grimace on her face from having done the same thing many times (just didn’t tell you, for obvious reasons.) she turned her head, catching jesses eye and shaking her head at him scoldingly making him mouth a ‘sorry!’ with his hands held up

• jesse and dina definitely come over later on (like your parents fjfjdjdjs) and reassure you that the rabbit had lived a long and healthy life (lying <3)

• ellie has a page in her diary dedicated to times like these which she has titled ‘Things that have made my girlfriend cry’ where she lists the reasons and the date it happened on

• the list contains of additions such as ‘Thought about how many abandoned dogs there must be in the world — 11/08’ ‘I hesitated when she asked me if I would still love her if she had three eyes, twelve legs, snakes for hair and the legs of a horse — 03/05’

• she always knows when you’re about to blow.

• like she can see it in the way your eyebrows twitch and furrow, you start looking all flushed and fidgety, your bottom lip starts wobbling. by that point, she’s usually whisked you away from the situation that’s upsetting you and is either trying to comfort you or distract you. “hey, hey, c’mon babe don’t get upset. let’s prank dina, it’ll be funny right? you like pranking dina with me!” she then takes your face in her hands and starts kissing your cheeks until you crack a smile. “theeeeres my brave girl.” she grins once you do.

• aaaand of course

• ellie looooves to make you cry during sex (in a good way, duh)

• you start hiccuping and blubbering when she’s overstimulating you and she’s quick to soothe you with soft hands and kisses, chuckling down at you. “oh, my sweet girl. you reaaally like that, huh. makin’ me look bad, crying on me like that angel.” she smiles reassuringly, holding both your hands even with her strap buried to the hilt inside you.

♡

#anon #ellie x reader #ellie williams hcs #ellie tlou2 hcs #ellie williams headcanon #ellie williams prompt

595 notes · View notes

aquagirl1978 · 2 months

Note

Uuummm hi , 👋😊. I was wondering if U make like stories on ikemen prince . If u do , can u pls pls pls pls make one on Gilbert being a father🤞🤞.I NEED IT 😩😫 plssssss . Ofc you are not force to . TYsm ❤️👑💋

Thank you @alfonssylvaticasbitch for this very lovely ask - as his route is releasing in EN in just a few hours, I thought it would be fitting to post this today.

Anti-Hero - Gilbert von Obsidian x Reader (Ikemen Prince)

A/N #1: This is now the third Gilbert as a dad fic I've written and also the third fic I've titled after a Taylor Swift song (I promise I am not a Swiftie!) - make of this what you will.

A/N #2: Happy Route Release Day Gilbert - congratulations, now all your secrets will soon be known.

Pairing: Gilbert von Obsidian x Reader

Prompt: Gilbert as a dad

Word Count: 680

Tags: fluff, no spoilers (other than an appearance by Walter who is just "some guy" in this fic), Gilbert has a daughter

“Here,” the little girl said, placing a toy dragon into Roderich’s hands, “you get to be the dragon today.”

The man wearing a dark hood covering his face stared down at the toy. “Why am I always the dragon?” he muttered.

“Would you rather be the troll?” Walter asked, eyeing the very ugly toy in his hand. “Just go along with it, you don’t want to make him angry.”

Roderich turned his head to see Gilbert seated on a large stone, his little rabbit not far from him.

“Why isn’t he ever the dragon?” Roderich mumbled under his breath. He turned his attention back to the game at hand and moved his dragon to the entrance of the play-castle.

He made loud roaring sounds; the little girl smiled and shrieked, happy to see her friend play along.

“Papa, Papa ! Help me!!!!” she called out frantically. Her arms flailing, she flopped over onto her side, the doll in her hand falling from her fingers. “The dragon…” she gasped, “is coming to get me!”

“Rawr!” Roderich shouted as he moved the dragon closer to the little girl’s doll. He watched as she clutched her heart, sighing dramatically – something her father had done on more than one occasion.

“Papa!” she cried breathlessly. “I need you,” she gasped, “I need my hero to save me!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at your daughter’s theatrics – while she inherited your hair and eyes, she inherited her melodramatics from Gilbert.

“Go,” you urged, “she needs you.”

Gilbert looked at his daughter and then back at you. “I’m not a hero,” he said. “Anti-hero, maybe. But I’m the villain…”

His voice trailed off as his focus turned to his daughter. Sprawled out on the floor, she lay still as the mean and scary dragon approached the princess.

You tugged gently on Gilbert’s sleeve, his gaze returning to you. “In her eyes, you are her papa. A great and wonderful man who adores her. In her world, she only knows the good you have done.”

“I have done bad things. Terrible things.” He tilted his head, sadness washing over his face. “And I might do them again.”

“You won't," you replied softly, to which Gilbert huffed a puff of air.

“And you, little rabbit, how do you see me?”

“I see a man with a good heart who loves his family and his country.”

His expression softened, the way he looked at you was so gentle; he couldn't argue with you – there was not a lie in your voice. His rose-red eye wavered as he pulled you into an embrace, his arms circling your waist, squeezing you so tight.

“I wouldn’t survive without you,” he whispered into a kiss placed upon the crown of your hair.

You pressed your cheek into the dark fabric covering his chest, humming your acknowledgment.

“That’s why I’ll never let you leave my side.”

You pulled away, needing to look into his eye when you spoke. “I wouldn't want it any other way.”

He pressed his lips against yours in a rare sign of affection in front of others. Cool against warmth, it was over before it could go any further.

You ran your palms slowly down his arms, your hands slipping into his. “Now go, be her hero.” You let go of his hands, and watched him walk away.

He took a seat on the ground next to his daughter; once she was calmed, Gilbert turned to you. He held out his hands, his fingers curving into a heart as he smiled at you.

Your heart filled with warmth as Gilbert picked up the toy knight and played the part of the hero, slaying the mean dragon and saving the princess. Nothing could have made you happier than when you saw the smile on your daughter’s face.

“Thank you for saving me, papa,” she squealed as he lifted her in the air. “I love you!”

“I love you, too,” you whispered, giving your husband and child a moment together, their laughter so loud and infectious you couldn't help but join in their joy.

Tagging: @redheadkittys @alixennial @rhodolitesroseforclavis @chaosangel767 @queengiuliettafirstlady @queen-dahlia @ikehoe @ikemen-writer @talfollowingstuff @kpop-and-otome @kisara-16 @altairring @lucyw260 @lordsisterxotome @umi-adxhira @crypticbibliophile @lancelotscloak @scorchieart @tele86 @nightfoxqueen @melodiousramblings @wendolrea @aceuuuu @randonauticrap @aria-chikage @nightghoul381 @judejazza @maries-gallery @xbalayage @xenokiryu @alydra @drachonia @ranhanabi777 @silver-dahlia @lunaaka @portrait-ninja @sh0jun

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #gilbert von obsidian #ikepri gilbert #ikemen gilbert #ikemen fanfic #ikepri fanfic #otome #otome games #otome fanfic

96 notes · View notes

bordysbae · 1 year

Note

can u do 21 from the prompt list with turcs pls? thank you!!

“not really sorry”

alex turcotte x zegras!reader

21. “i didn’t mean to walk in on you changing!”

wc: 1.0k

this is kinda rushed but oh well

your older brother trevor has always told you his friends are off limits, and most of the time you never had any interest in his friends anyways. to you they were all annoying, sloppy, and overprotective, but that all changed when alex turcotte hit his growth spurt and gained the confidence to hit on girls. suddenly, you fell into the jealousy rabbit hole every time you saw him with another girl or heard him talking about one. and what sucked even more is that because you became good friends with all of trevor’s teammates, they all saw you as a younger sister. alex included.

you have always been a little bit closer with alex than the rest of trevor’s friends, but you’re pretty close with all of them. you’re also only one year older than jacks younger brother luke, so you two grew to become close as well. you told luke about your feelings for alex in confidence, and you knew he wouldn’t tell trevor. he always tried his best to help you, but eventually the both of you gave up when alex got a girlfriend. thankfully he broke up with her a few weeks ago, but you noticed he’s barely been going out like he used to.

because alex has been so absent lately, you had absolutely no idea that he was coming to hang out with the ‘group’ today. the group being trevor’s teammates, you, and luke. it’s a nice hot summer day, and you’re all spending the day at the hughes’ lake house. as you’re changing in luke’s bathroom, you’re removing your bra when suddenly the door opens. you gasp and cover your bare chest, as alex immediately shuts the door. “i’m so sorry! holy shit i’m so so sorry! i didn’t mean to walk in on you changing!” alex stutters through the door.

you feel your cheeks heat up but you also can’t help from laughing a little. “it’s alright turcs, i totally thought i locked the door. i’ll let you know when i’m done,” you chuckle awkwardly, and alex does the same. you hear him walk away down the hallway and you face palm. “no way that just happened,” you mutter to yourself. you look at your face in the mirror and realize how red your face is. little do you know alex is trying to make the pink on his cheeks lessen as well.

once everyone is changed into their swim suits, you all get on the boat. jim and some of the boys are fishing while others are jamming out to all different types of music. you and ellen are tanning, and luke comes and sits next to you. “hi luke, you’re done fishing?” you ask.

“yeah, there’s like barely any fish anyways. aren’t you hot?” luke asks you, pressing a finger to your slightly burnt shoulder.

“eh it’s fine, i need to tan,” you shrug. suddenly trevor, jack, and spencer come over to both you and ellen and start bothering you two. you notice alex standing awkwardly behind your brother, trying not to look at you. you brush it off, and as you’re about to speak out a sentence, trevor, jack, and luke pick you up by your limbs and start swinging you over the edge of the boat.

“don’t you dare!” you shriek, but it was too late. you’re flung over the edge of the boat, and crash into the cold lake water. you swim to the surface, and see all of the guys laughing, jim includeded. “oh i hate you guys! someone help me up!” you groan in annoyance, since you had no intentions of getting into the lake until later.

alex reaches over the boat, and lends out an arm for you, helping you up the ladder. he awkwardly mumbles something you can barely make out, but you catch it surprisingly. “can we talk later?” he asks, and you make the ‘mhm’ noise, and alex nods.

—

after a long day out on the boat, you all head out to the fire pit in the backyard. “oh shoot! i forgot s’mores stuff!” ellen complains. “oh i can get it!” you and alex say at the same time, you both look at each other and realize this is now a good time to ‘talk,’ so you both agree to go together. as you’re both walking into the house, alex speaks first. “i’m sorry about earlier, and i’m sorry if i made things awkward. but it kind of made me realize something,”

“and what’s that?”

“i like you more than a friend, i have for awhile honestly. but i always saw you as a younger sister, or well technically just trevor’s younger sister, but i forced myself to see you as a close friend because of trevor’s rules,” alex says, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

“what rules?” you question

“he told all of us you’re off limits,” alex explains.

“well that’s too bad, cause i have feelings for you too alex”

you didn’t realize that you and alex had been inching closer to each other as the tension grew, but now alex is inches away from your face. “oh really?” he chuckles, making the fluttering feeling in your stomach increase.

“yeah, but i guess i’m off limits huh?” you tease.

“well i don’t see trevor, do you?” alex says, looking around the empty kitchen.

“oh stop being such a tease and kiss me already,” you groan in annoyance. the tension between you both is now so thick you could cut it with a knife.

“i knew i liked them demanding,” alex jokes as he leans in to kiss your lips. you feel the world stop spinning as you and alex’s lips melt together, but suddenly the door opens and you hear luke gasp then start laughing.

“oh shit, that wasn’t something i thought i’d ever see! but hey it’s about time!” luke smirks. you and alex look like deers in headlights as luke stands in the doorway of the sliding glass door.

“luke please don’t tell trevor,” you plead. “oh don’t worry, my mom was just wondering what was taking so long. i’ll just tell her you guys can’t find the marshmallows,” he winks as he turns around and exits the house once again.

“just so you know, i’m not really sorry for seeing you change earlier. it wasn’t the worst sight i’ve seen before,” alex jokes, making your mouth fall agape.

“shut it you perve! go find the marshmallows,” you blush, playfully hitting his chest as you turn around towards the pantry.

#alex turcotte #alex turcotte imagine #alex turcotte x reader #alex turcotte blurb #la kings #los angeles kings #usntp hockey #hockey blurb #hockey imagine #trevor zegras #luke hughes

235 notes · View notes