#like whispering straight into a god's ear and in turn changing the very fabric of the universe | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kittttycakes · 7 months

Note

Yessss, that intensity of attention that slightly!jealous Morpheus would have. Like you said, overwhelming in the best possible way, and wouldn’t that make you feel so powerful to have that kind of effect on, and reaction from a being that is more than a god.

And about that tournament… your thoughts on what Morpheus would be doing are pure perfection and have sent my brain straight to the gutter.

A) undoing the buckles and unlacing the ties etc. on each part of Hob’a armour and clothes, and tracing with fingers and then lips over each piece of skin that is revealed…

and

B) omg, I can just imagine the filth that could come out of Hob’s mouth as he outlines exactly why Grace doesn’t need the attention of any of the Fae. “Who else could do this/make you…/have you feel…?” Meanwhile Morpheus is putting his fingers/mouth/…..etc ;) to good use demonstrating exactly the things Hob is saying, and whispering equally filthy but eloquent/poetic things in her ear.

I am just so here for some loving on Grace!

Also, the potential for jealous Hob, can you please tell us more?

❤️

I think Morpheus would be incredibly tactile, so I am joining you in the dumpster, because the contrast between armor and the clothing underneath, between the clothing and the skin at the bottom of it all…impeccable. All of the precious metal and all of the fine fabric in the world can’t possibly compare to the feeling of skin against skin.

There are so many things I love about this dynamic especially: 1. Hob Gadling will not shut up in bed and that is just straight facts, he should be allowed to say everything that he’s thinking in that moment, because it’s always welcome and it always lands exactly how it’s supposed to. It’s especially impactful when he’s been building up this lovely romantic moment, because who else could love her like this, who else could cherish her so deeply, who else knows her so well…only to then drop the most scorchingly X rated filth after it. Get you a man that can do both. 2. I love the vulnerability of Morpheus allowing Hob to take charge. Morpheus is still very much in control, but he’s the one listening to Hob, and even if they aren’t exactly orders, he can be very good at following instructions when sufficiently motivated. 3. Grace just gets to have the best time possible and I love that for her, she doesn’t even have to lift a finger.

I love jealous Hob. I love him. Because the Hob that Grace knows, the one that she sees, is the product of years of change and of working to be a good man. He’s a good partner, colleague, friend. But the other side of wanting as much and as deeply as he does is that there’s this little seed of jealousy, just waiting for the sun to shine on it.

More below the cut for the sake of everyone’s dashes!

Relevant backstory: As some people in academia do, prior to meeting Hob, Grace had primarily dated other people in her academic cohort. During her PhD program, she had a serious boyfriend, and things only really ended between them because he got a job at a university abroad and she didn’t want to turn down the offer she had received at the university she eventually meets Hob at, and so things ended quite amicably, if bittersweetly, because neither of them was keen on doing long distance. Not wanting to prolong a relationship that had an expiration date, they parted ways some time before Grace began teaching at the university.

However, Grace has professionally crossed paths with him several times since the end of the relationship, because they both work in very similar fields/with similar literary eras, and they have a still-friendly professional relationship. Hob, naturally, knows about him in the abstract and it’s all fine.

Until he meets him, at a conference he and Grace both happen to be attending.

He’s nice! There’s nothing wrong with him! He’s very polite and professional and clearly knowledgeable in his field and Hob thinks he might hate him, actually. He’s just so familiar with Grace, that kind of easy knowing that you sometimes still have with someone you used to love and know very well. (Among his cardinal sins, not that Hob would ever admit to it, is that he’s about an inch taller than Hob.)

He also…doesn’t look anything like Hob. If anything, he looks quite a bit like Morpheus, actually. Tall, slender, dark hair, light eyes…There’s no real rational reason for him to be jealous at all. He hasn’t done anything! He only knew Grace before Hob did, and had a relationship with her, and in a different world, he would be the one with his arm around her and she would be wearing his ring and Hob just can’t have that.

He’s trying so hard not to be an absolute dick about it, but he’s not quite his usual charming self, and Grace can’t seem to put her finger on why until she finally corners him in their hotel room and gets him to own up to it, after which she spends a lovely evening convincing him that he has absolutely nothing, nothing at all, to worry about.

❤️

#anon <3 #oc: grace talbot #morpheus x oc x hob gadling

3 notes · View notes

pinknatural · 3 years

Text

On Monday night, Cas kneels beside the bed and folds his hands, dipping his forehead against the blankets and closing his eyes, lips moving soundlessly. Dean sits on the bed, still as a statue, and watches him, afraid to move.

When Cas straightens his head and uncurls, standing up, his eyes are wet with tears. Dean reaches for him and Cas falls onto the bed, presses his face into Dean’s neck, sobs silently. Dean holds him close, one hand cradling his head and the other rubbing his back, and he stares at their ceiling.

Dear Jack, or God, or whoever, he prays. Please come back. Please come home. We miss you.

On Tuesday morning, Dean untangles himself from Cas gently and brushes the hair from his forehead, presses a kiss to the uncovered skin. He gets out of bed and tiptoes out the door. He’ll get Cas some coffee. It’s the least he can do.

Dean’s chest feels tangled in knots, misery weighing heavily on him. All Dean can think about are his mistakes, all the ways he’s screwed up his kid. All the ways he’s done what he swore he’d never do, three nights after Sam left for Stanford, when he was curled up in a motel bathtub, hiding from his own father.

But today’s not about Dean, or his guilt, or his pain. It’s about Cas, and it’s about Jack.

Dean creeps down the stairs, holding the ends of the dead guy robe up so he doesn’t slip. He drops the fabric once he reaches the hardwood floor down below, and he heads for the kitchen.

Something rattles, and he freezes.

There’s a knife tucked into the leather jacket hanging by the front door, and Dean slides his hand into the pocket, curls his fingers around the hilt. He glides on socked feet towards the kitchen, hoping it’s just Claire--but Claire never wakes up this early.

From the kitchen, something clatters and falls. It sounds like bowls falling, and Dean takes bigger steps, readying his knife. When he turns the corner into the kitchen, though, it’s not a shitty robber or a demon or Claire or anything else Dean thought it might be.

A chair from the kitchen table was dragged across the room, pushed up against the cabinets. The cabinet with the bowls is both open and empty, and the plastic bowls are scattered against the counter and floor. On top of the kitchen chair is a little boy--three or four, with blonde-brown hair and wide blue eyes. His little arms are reached out to the fallen bowls, as if he tried and failed to stop them from falling. He freezes and blinks at Dean, who stares back at him.

“Dean!” the boy cries, and he jumps off the chair and runs full-tilt at Dean, wrapping his little arms around Dean’s leg and burying his face in Dean’s gut. Dean startles and crouches down, disrupting the kid’s hold.

“Hey,” he says gently, unwilling to scare the kid. The little boy is beaming, a bright smile, little baby teeth lined up and gleaming. He has a smattering of freckles across his nose, and he’s wearing a pair of pink dinosaur pajama pants, with a slightly oversized Led Zeppelin t-shirt. His socks say DADDY’S LIL ANGEL on the top of his feet. Dean surveys the boy’s face again. “Jack?” he asks eventually, unsure who else it would be, and maybe a little too hopeful to be thinking straight.

“Yes!” the boy--Jack, apparently--says, flinging his arms around Dean’s neck. Dean hugs him back, confused, and inhales. He smells like the strawberry shampoo he used at the Bunker.

“Hey, buddy,” Dean says, and he stands, his back protesting at the crouch, pulling the little boy up with him. “How are you here? Why are you little?”

“I was all done!” Jack says proudly, spreading his arms out wide and nearly smacking Dean in the face.

“All done?”

“All done!” Jack confirms. “I was soooo tired. So I came home! And now I want cereal.”

He wiggles in Dean’s arms, trying to get down. Dean yields, and Jack runs to the fallen bowls, picking up Claire’s favorite purple one. Dean watches, astounded, as Jack opens the cabinet but can’t reach the cereal. He follows and reaches for it, puts it on the counter.

Jack is here. Jack is home. Jack is his actual age. Dean wonders if he has powers, then he decides it doesn’t matter. If he does, they can deal with that later.

“Hey, Jack,” Dean says. “Come here.”

Jack runs up to him, still clutching his bowl. He lifts his arms obediently, and Dean picks him up, gently takes the bowl from his hand and puts it on the counter.

“You’re home?” Dean asks. “For good? This isn’t a dream?”

“I’m home!” Jack says, kicking his legs. “For ever and ever.” His eyes go wide and uncertain. “You said I could.”

“Yeah, buddy,” Dean says, a lump in his throat. “Of course I did.” He cups the back of Jack’s head and brings their foreheads together, wills away his tears. “Come on, you can have cereal in a little bit.”

He turns away from the mess in his kitchen and towards the stairs. “How did you know we wouldn’t be at the Bunker?”

“I wanted to come home,” Jack says. “Not the Bunker.”

Dean blinks rapidly. Jack pokes the picture of his older self as they pass it on the stairwell. Dean stops at the top of the stairs, turns his head to the left to look at Claire’s bedroom, the door shut tight.

“Shh,” Dean says, and Jack nods solemnly.

“Shh,” he repeats.

Dean turns his head to the right, to look at the door across from Claire’s. It’s shut, too, out of respect. They’ll go there later, Dean decides. They’ll see if Jack likes the decorations Cas put up, or if they’ll have to go to the store and change it. Dean will be thrilled either way.

He keeps walking. His bedroom is at the end of the hall, past Claire’s bathroom, and Dean pushes open the door gently.

“Okay,” he whispers to Jack. “You can jump, but only if you’re very careful.”

“Okay,” Jack whispers back, and Dean dumps him onto the bed. Jack stands and walks the three steps it takes to get him to the middle of the bed. He falls to his knees and pokes at Cas’s chest, then bounces on the mattress beside him. “Daddy, wake up.”

Dean’s heart melts, and Jack pokes at Cas’s cheek, then his nose. Cas doesn’t wake up, and Jack crawls on top of him.

“Dadddyyyy,” he says. Cas startles, then blinks awake, bleary. Dean watches his eyes slit open, confused, and the blue eyes focus on the little boy sitting on his chest. Then Cas shoots upright, hands on Jack’s shoulders.

He looks at Dean, who nods, then he looks back at Jack.

“Jack?” he whispers.

“Daddy!” Jack says happily, then Cas squishes him to his chest, curling over him.

“Jack,” he breathes. “Oh, you came back.”

“Yep!” Jack says, voice muffled, and Dean sits down, crawls onto the bed.

“Apparently he was all done,” Dean says.

“Yep!” Jack says again. “Auntie Amara said it was time to go home.”

“Of course it was,” Cas says, his voice fragile, and he rocks back and forth, holding Jack to his chest. He looks up at Dean, eyes wet, and Dean hugs him.

They stay like that for a long moment, Jack pressed between them, clutching onto Cas’s shirt with tiny fingers. Dean exhales shakily and presses his forehead to Cas’s, then he remembers something.

“Hey buddy,” he says. “Do you know what day it is?”

“Ummm,” Jack says. “Tuesday?”

“No, baby,” Cas says, sniffing.

“No, it’s Tuesday,” Jack argues.

“Of course it is,” Dean says. “But do you know what else it is?”

“No,” Jack says.

“It’s your birthday,” Dean says. “You’re four now.”

“Wow,” Jack says. He wiggles in excitement. “Does that mean we can have cake?”

“Of course we can,” Cas says, making a noise that sounds like a sob and a laugh at the same time.

“And a biiiiiiggg party?” Jack asks.

“The biggest,” Dean promises.

“With Uncle Sammy?” Jack asks. Dean doesn’t know where he picked up “Uncle Sammy”, but he hopes Jack calls him that forever.

“Of course,” Dean says. “I’ll call him in a few minutes. We’ll call everyone.”

“Everyone?” Jack asks.

“Everyone,” Dean says.

“Even Kaia?”

“Especially Kaia,” Dean says. He looks at Cas, realizing that he’s not the only person living in this house, but Cas doesn’t seem like he’s about to argue. In fact, he’s making his calculations face--probably wondering who to invite, who can get here on time and so last minute.

Dean realizes, suddenly, that Claire and Jack have never met. They’ll have to remedy that.

They can, now.

They can do anything, Dean realizes, as they get out of bed and Cas says something about no baby clothes and Jack protests that he’s not a baby, as they tiptoe past Claire’s room to retrieve the promised cereal. Dean unlocks his phone on autopilot, opening the phone app and turning to the favorites tab. When Dean was four, his family was destroyed.

Claire comes downstairs, Miracle in tow, and she shakes Jack’s hand solemnly. Sam screams over the phone. Rowena shows up in half an hour with a closet full of clothes fit for a four year old. Eileen and Sam bring balloons and streamers.

Cas is alive, Dean thinks while he mixes the cake. Sam is hanging up streamers across the room. Jody and the girls bustle in with enough food to feed an army. Claire lets Jack climb on her, looking a bit frightened and a bit resigned. Kaia helps Jack put on a tutu over his jeans. Dean slides the cake into the oven, and watches Eileen teach Alex how to sign happy birthday.

Jack is here now. He’s here and he’s four, and Dean’s family was destroyed when he was four, and now his son is four years old.

“Our family’s all together,” Dean whispers into Cas’s ear. Cas kisses him briefly. Dean had tried to keep track of their kisses, at first, but he’s lost count.

“Yes,” Cas says, eyes bright. “They are.”

(ao3)

#jack kline #dean winchester #castiel #deancas #destiel #nougatparty #writingtag #this kind of became about dean cause i got emo but here. baby time

1K notes · View notes

theneondemonx · 3 years

Text

MY TYPE | JJK

One Shot

▽ summary: you’ve never liked fuckboys, especially one Jeon Jungkook. But when you find yourself late at night playing a game of seven minutes in heaven with your college friends, things take a different turn.

▽ genre: porn with very little plot, college au

▽ pairings: fuckboy|jk x fem!reader

▽ words: 2192

▽ warnings: implied alcohol use, jk jerked off to your insta pics (y/n living the dream), oral sex (m receiving, deep throating), unprotected sex, lots of cum, dirty talk, nipple play, jk has a big dick

A chorus of ooohs filled the messy living room in which you and your friends were sitting in circle. It was late and most of the party guests had already gone back home, leaving just a small bunch of you and a pile of garbage all over the house. You would have gladly leave the place way earlier if it wasn’t for your best friend Se-mi, who you promised to drive back home. She insisted in staying longer to hit on Min Yoongi, one of your fellow classmates from the same major, but the guy seemed to barely notice. He might even been interested in her for all you knew: there was no way of telling, since he was always so introverted. The only person he spoke to was his disaster of a friend, Jeon Jungkook, the campus playboy.

How do they even get along? They have literally nothing in common.

And you knew this, since you had been often paired with Yoongi for some group projects during the years. The guy was cool. He was really smart and funny when you actually got to know him. He just didn’t open up easily. That’s why, even though you’ve had the opportunity to chat with him several times, you couldn’t really say you two were friends.

But back to the ooohs. The reason behind that childish reaction was to trace in the empty bottle of beer who had just stop spinning, pointing at you and the infamous Jeon Jungkook, who was having the time of his life – judging from the mischievous grin on his face.

You weren’t blind, you knew he was hot as fuck, but he was way too aware of his good looks and terribly overconfident. He was known to have slept with most girls on campus, and you were pretty sure he was more dedicated to keep his record than to actually graduate. Which, for a good student like you, was infuriating.

You had always found him annoying and obnoxious. And on top of that, you couldn’t figure out how girls seemed to fall for his cheesy lines every single time, throwing themselves at him like he was the only guy with a dick.

Sure, you didn’t really knew the guy, but in your opinion there wasn’t much to know about him. He was a cliché. And you couldn’t help but roll your eyes every time he tried to hit on you. Because he did. Of course he did. You were just his favorite type of prey: one that was not easy to catch.

“Well, you know the rules, guys. The closet is right at the end of the corridor. You have to stay in there for seven minutes. If you get out earlier, you have to kiss in front of everybody for the remaining time. And if you don’t get out.. well.. good for you.”

“Don’t worry, Jimin. Seven minutes are more than enough.” You said with a sarcastic tone, giving him a fake smile while you got up and adjusted your skirt.

Jungkook scoffed, getting up and leaning closer to your ear to talk in a low voice, but loud enough for the others to hear.

“You must have had some pretty lame sex if you think so. Hope I’ll change your mind.”

“You’re disgusting.”

And that’s how you found yourself sharing the tightest possible space with a known fuckboy like Jeon Jungkook.

As soon as you entered the closet, you pushed your back against one of the walls, folding your arms to your chest to make him understand in every possible way that you weren’t going to give into any of his shenanigans. Stupid move, since your shirt was a bit low-cut and that only made your tits pop up even more, looking like a four course meal to the blatant gaze of Jungkook.

“No class to run to this time, mh?” he immediately uttered, giving you a malicious smile while leaning with his shoulder against the door frame.

“Unfortunately.”

He rolled his eyes, darkened even more by the dim light of the small space you were both trapped in.

“Oh come on, do you really want to turn this game into seven minutes in hell? You don’t necessarily have to be a mood killer.”

“I just don’t like you, Jungkook. I know you are not used to hear it, but that’s just how it is.”

Your comeback didn’t seem to affect him at all. If anything, he just made him chuckle and slightly shake his head.

Seriously? You are that full of yourself?

“Ok, so it’s another Y/L/N Y/N who liked my photo at the gym from three years ago and then changed her whole profile in a ridiculous attempt to hide it.”

Your eyes widened and your cheeks turned suddenly red. You got caught.

“It was a mistake.” You tried to explain yourself, knowing too well that there was nothing you could say to go back from that.

He raised his eyebrow, looking straight at you from underneath his eyelashes.

“You scrolled through all my Instagram profile by mistake?”

No you didn’t. You just got curious. That’s the kind of shit you did at three in the morning when you couldn’t sleep. You just find yourself looking for weird stuff on the internet and scrolling through profiles of people you barely knew for no apparent reason. It was just a bonus point the fact that Jungkook’s profile was full of pictures of his body sculped by the gods. Sure, you were annoyed by his attitude, but you were still a woman.

“And you did it so very late at night, if I might add.” He said, taking a step forward towards you. “What were you doing, Y/N? Looking for something interesting?”

You blushed so hard that you were pretty sure he could see the redness in your cheeks even despite the poor lighting in the closet. But you couldn’t help but stare at him in the eyes like a deer caught in headlights, unable to look away from his hypnotic gaze.

“I wasn’t.” You murmured, defensively.

“You don’t have to feel ashamed, you know? I was awake too – thank God, if I might add. I would have missed it otherwise. I would have found myself locked out of that mysterious profile, unable to look at your cute pictures.” He paused, leaning way too close to your face. “Don’t tell anyone, but I had some fun with those.”

Normally, you would have told him that he was sickening, but for some reason you felt a pleasant warmth irradiating in your belly. You couldn’t help but picture him jerking off to your photos, and it wasn’t sickening at all. If anything, it was weirdly enticing.

He rested his palm on the wall, right next to your face, and looked down at your body like he was ready to devour it in one bite.

“I recognized the skirt, you know?”

You didn’t remember wearing it in one of your pictures, but it was plausible: that skirt was one of your favorites. Cute and short, but not too revealing.

“Well, I hope you saved the picture, because that’s all you’re gonna get.”

This was your response, when you actually found the courage to talk. But your voice was so low and shaky that you found it hard yourself to believe your own words. Of course he didn’t fall for it.

“Are you sure?”

You bit your lip, nodding in a last ridiculous attempt to give yourself a standoffish look, which again he didn’t buy at all.

He got even closer, slightly pressing his body against yours until your heavy breaths were melting into one another and you could feel his hardness on your stomach.

You did not respond. You were brain dead. All you could feel was your core painfully clenching around nothing and your blood flowing down to your lower belly, emptying your head of any thought beside those filled with the desire to feel his body.

“Mh.. okay..” he said, gently resting his hand on your thigh and starting to go further up with an excruciating slow pace. “So you don’t like this.”

It wasn’t a question, but it was clear he was looking for a reply you were unable to give. A soft moan escaped your lips at his gentle touch, which you didn’t move away from. A silent green light for him to go even further up, taking his caress under the hem of your skirt until his digits were brushing the damp fabric of your underwear.

“You want me to stop, Y/N?”

His words were a mere whisper against your lips to which you couldn't help but faintly gasp.

“No.” You found yourself saying, right before being cut off by the kiss he gave you, pressing his lips against yours and spreading them open for his tongue to enter your mouth.

You moaned, melting like pudding against his body while his fingers started drawing slow circles on your sensitive clit.

“For someone who finds me disgusting you got yourself soaking wet pretty fast, princess.”

His provocative words only got you wetter and needier, pushing you to the edge of your psychological barricade. Your hands rushed to his belt, unbuckling it with fast and sloppy movements until you could zip down his jeans, letting his hard cock spring free in front of you.

Fuck he’s big.

He seemed to have somehow read your thoughts in your eyes, since he chuckled, guiding your hand to wrap around his width and slightly moving it up and down while letting out a raspy moan.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and take me in your mouth, princess?”

You licked your lips, looking up at him with your eyes filled with lust while you slowly got to your knees. You never broke eye contact, pumping him slowly but steadily before swirling your tongue around the tip of his cock, covered with precum.

“Tastes good?”

“Mhmh.” You nodded with a mischievous smile on your face.

Your mouth soon wrapped around his cock, taking it all in until you started gaggin a bit for the length. A reaction which made him moan loudly and grab your hair, steadying his grip in order to guide your head in the increasing pace.

“Fuck your mouth feels so good.”

“You like it? Is this what you pictured while jerking off to my photos?” You said during a small pause, not even giving him the time to respond with anything but a loud moan, since you immediately got back to deep throating his cock like it was your last meal.

“Fuck I’m close.”

Those words only made you move faster, keeping your eyes locked with his to take in every ounce of pleasure you could get from him. And at that point there wasn’t much he could do to hold back. You suddenly felt his hot semen spilling down your throat.

However, you only had the time to swallow before he leaned down, wrapping his arm around your waist and lifting you up with ridiculous ease.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, letting him push you against the wall and move your wet panties to the side to sink deep inside your throbbing core.

You let out a sharp moan, welcoming his size between your tight walls with pleasurable pain. One of his hands got under your shirt and bra, squeezing your breast and tracing circles with his thumb on your hard nipple.

“Look at you. You got so wet just by sucking my cock, baby?”

His words were again a lustful whisper against your parted lips, but you were unable to respond – your voice cut by the deep thrusts he was torturing you with. You were sure, however, that the lewd sounds of your wetness were enough of an answer to him.

“Such a pretty little slut. What are you gonna tell the others when they’ll see my cum dripping down your thighs?”

You moaned loudly, helping his pace with the movements of your own hips to take him even deeper.

“I’m gonna tell them that this lame sex little slut made you come twice in a row.”

He groaned, thrusting harder in you.

“You are so fucking hot.”

The pace got quicker and quicker until you found yourself out of breath, calling his name in between moans while your legs started shivering, signaling your forthcoming orgasm. And when it came, it hit you like a train, making you grab his hair and moan loudly while your walls clenched around his cock. You felt him twitch inside you until he sank deep with sloppy thrusts, releasing his orgasm inside you with a raspy moan.

You two took some moments to relax your racing heartbeats, leaning against each other's forehead with eyes closed and heavy breaths.

When you felt again capable of speaking, you let out a pretty laugh, pressing your palm against his cheek.

“Hope this memory will serve you well for your future lonely nights.”

He laughed, caressing your nose with the tip of his.

“Trust me, this won’t stay in the past.”

“Jerkass.”

“Nerd.”

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jk #jjk #jungkook oneshot #jungkook college au #jungkook fuckboy #smut #college au #yoongi #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts college au #fanfic #oneshot #bts x reader #bts

1K notes · View notes

littlemissnoname13 · 3 years

Note

hii i wanted to request a draco/reader fic w the dynamic that 1 day they meet at a bar and have a 1 night stand, and then » 2 months later draco is at mungo's and runs into y/n who has just found out she is pregnant w his kid but she's scared to tell him. and he feels a connection to her that tells him she's carrying his child and he asks her out bc they kinda like each other. Pl do if your comfortable only tyia

Hi my nonnie! Thanks for requesting.🖤

This was so much fun to write. Especially the bar part. This is a long one so brace yourself. I hope you like it.

A very special shoutout to @mellifluousart for giving me helpful pointers for this fic. You are the best!

Terrible at Small Talk (D.Malfoy x Reader) 18+

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader

Warnings: some fluff smut, mature Language and themes, nsfw, drinking, penetrative sex, breeding kink, pregnancy, 18+

Word count: 2396

~~~~~~~~~~

You swirled what remained of your drink in your glass making the amber liquid spin round and round and round.

Even after two whole hours waiting on a tall bar stool in a dead little muggle bar, and your date was still nowhere to be seen.

The previous hour had gone by pretty quickly in comparison to the first hour though. You'd been drinking whisky on the rocks and your insides were warming up little by little making the waiting game a tad bit more bearable.

You couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol but you chuckled to yourself thinking about what you had done in life to lead you there, in a strange little pub waiting for a boy you weren’t even sure was coming.

“One more of these please.” You called out to the bartender, smiling politely and shaking your empty glass.

“I’ll have what she’s having.”

An all too familiar voice made all the hairs on your back stand up straight. Your goosebumps were probably highly visible from the back of your backless red dress.

“Well, well, if it isn’t y/l/n in the flesh.” He muttered, sitting down on the bar stool next to you and you didn’t dare to turn to your side to look at him.

You didn’t even need to.

You knew who this voice belonged to and it sure as hell wasn’t your date.

“Well, Hello to you too, Malfoy.” You said, finally turning your head towards him. “I didn’t know you liked to frequent muggle bars on the weekends.”

You hadn’t seen him after the wizarding war. He had gone off the grid.

He still looked the same and yet, completely different.

His suit was still all black but his jaw had gotten more chiseled, his hair remained the same but he now donned glasses. He still wore his silver rings and you could see what looked like a tattoo peeking out of his suit sleeves.

“Nice glasses.” You blurted.

“Nice hair.” He muttered, as the bartender handed you your drinks. He eyed you intently before taking a prolonged swig of his drink. “Although, I preferred it the way it was in school.”

“So did I.” You smiled weakly at him, running your hands through your hair, suddenly feeling very conscious.

“Why did you change it though?—I used to love your hair.” He cleared his throat and tried to backtrack from his sudden confession. “Not that you don’t look good now.”

You needed a fresh start after Hogwarts, the war and life in general but you didn’t think he needed to hear all that.

“Wanted something new I guess.” You said in a very composed tone as you gulped down your beverage and asked the bartender to keep the drinks coming.

He hummed and downed his drink matching your own speed.

Soon enough, you had created a row of empty glasses at the counter.

Both of you terrible at small talk.

“It’s so strange seeing you of all people at a muggle bar.” You said, your voice slowly getting slurry with a hint of inebriation and a tinge of madness.

He didn’t say a word, he simply blinked at you with a blankness in his stormy grey eyes, now hidden behind thick frames.

“Well, I don’t think I am welcomed at most pubs around Diagon alley—not after the war anyway.” He muttered. “Besides, I could have asked you the same question.”

“Well, if you must know, I got stood up.” You laughed. “Not that I wanted to come—my friends have been pushing me to go out there and meet people.”

He kept glaring at you as you kept babbling. His eyes secretly trailing to your bare back as he tried his hardest to ignore his blood rushing and his heart thumping.

A few more glasses of whisky later, you found yourself walking to the nearest apparition point with him.

And just as you tried to quicken your strides, you missed your footing but he caught firmly by the shoulder before you could hit the ground, face first.

“Merlin! That was a close one.” You whispered softly as you wondered why his hands were still grasping your shoulders.

Even after all these years, the smell of mint, and his expensive cologne remained the same; his eyes still conflicted.

The warmth and the confidence from the alcohol made you lean in and capture his lips in yours.

A slow, speculative kind of kiss. Like you were testing the waters; taking a small sip of tea to see if the temperature was alright.

After you leaned away, he opened his eyes.

The conflict inside his eyes was now replaced by a full fledged hurricane of emotions.

“C’mhere.” He said hoarsely as he grasped the hair on the back of your neck and pulled your face flush against his.

His left hand held one of your legs and wrapped it around his torso—your clothed cunt making contact with the hardened bulge in his pants.

By the time your eyes opened, Draco had already apparted you to the Malfoy manor.

As soon as he laid you down on his bed, he hastily began working on his shirt buttons.

With each button, you could see more and more of his ivory skin, his toned abdomen, the veins protruding along his forearm, his faded dark mark now covered with tattoos.

You propped yourself up on your elbows on the bed while he leaned in for another kiss and you took this opportunity to remove the glasses that hid the vehemence in his eyes.

His lips soon made their way towards your earlobes and he began nipping and tugging with his teeth while his hands roamed underneath your dress.

“The things I want to do to you…….”

“Draco….” You sighed as his fingers started to move up and down your clothed slit before pushing the fabric of your panty aside .

“Gods, y/n…” he groaned as he slowly pushed a finger inside. “The things I want to do to this pretty little cunt….”

“Then do it..” You whined bucking your hips at him. “Please just do it…”

“This dress...” He growled into your ear as he added a second finger inside of you. “I've wanted to rip it off your body since the moment I laid my eyes on you…”

His fingers kept moving in and out while his thumb kept rubbing circles into your clit. “You are so fucking wet darling.”

“Mmmhmm..” you whimpered, barely managing to nod your head.

“Tell me y/n…” he murmured against your slit; his tongue circling your swollen bud. “Who made you this wet?”

“You did Draco..” you whimpered. “You did.”

You were so close.

So fucking close.

Just when you felt like you were going to come all over his fingers he stopped and took his fingers out.

“No please..don’t stop..” You whined, suddenly feeling empty without his fingers.

“Take your clothes off.” He commanded, backing away and you instantly found yourself complying to his request in a matter of seconds.

No one had ever talked to you that way.

This was dark, this was seductive, this had your cunt dripping with anticipation.

“Fuck y/n. You are a sight for sore eyes.” He murmured while he pulled your hips towards the edge of the bed.

A small smirk played at his lips as his hands quickly undid the buckle of his belt to let himself out and you gasped at the sight of him.

Rumors always traveled fast at Hogwarts. You’d heard stories about him—his length, the way he made girls scream.

Only, they weren’t just rumors.

Everything you’d heard about him was true.

All the fucking rumors about his length, his size they were all true.

He moved his fist up and down his shaft and lined himself up against your entrance. Your eyes met for a second. “Are you okay with this?” He asked and you caressed his cheeks and nodded.

“I am more than okay Draco….”

And just like that, he pushed himself inside of you, cursing under his breath.

“Oh god….Draco…”

“The way you say my name y/n…” He grunted into the crook of your neck while your fingers entangled themselves into this hair. “It makes me want to fuck you harder…makes me want to fill you up with my come…”

“Draco Please…”

“Fuck y/n….don’t.. don’t say my name like that.. I won’t be able to control myself...

“Then don’t…” You pleaded with your head snapped back and your back arched when his thumb found your clit. “I want to feel you cum Draco..I need to..”

It was like these words were automatically slipping out of your lips as you reached closer and closer to your climax.

“What are you doing to me….y/n…” he groaned as he fucked you harder and harder. “Why do you feel so fucking good…”

“Draco..don’t stop..don’t stop till you are cumming for me..” you wrapped your legs around his torso allowing him a deeper angle.

“Won’t stop…I won’t fucking stop till I fill you up..”

Draco stayed true to his words.

He didn’t stop till you were sore and leaking with his release.

The both of you even woke up in the middle of the night for another round of rigorous sex and he silently thanked your date for pulling a no show that night.

Now he could have you all to himself. Well, until the sun came up that is.

When Draco woke up the next morning he tried to reach for you but you were long gone.

The only thing that remained was the smell of your perfume on his sheets and your stray earring on the floor.

He slowly reached for the forgotten earring and held it in the palm of his hands.

Sure, it was a one night stand but he sure as hell wanted another night with you.

~~~~~~~

Two months had gone by and Draco found himself staring at your earrings on his nightstand every day.

He was never the one to overthink about one night stands and yet, here he was, clasping onto your earring for dear life.

After reminding himself to get a grip on himself, Draco buttoned up his shirt and made his way towards St. Mungo's hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

He’d been a regular donor for the hospital since the end of the wizarding war and visited the hospital every other month.

Just like every other month, the hospital was terribly busy that day too.

But somewhere in between the hustle and bustle, somewhere in between the dissonance of sounds, the wind, the atmosphere he felt something different that particular day—Something familiar.

He brushed the feeling off and finished up the paperwork in less than an hour before making a swift exit from the hospital.

But every step he took away from St Mungos added to the inexplicable restlessness that crushed his insides. The feeling mimicked the feeling of missing a train he was supposed to catch.

“Oh For fuck’s sake.” He muttered to himself before turning back around and sprinting his way back into the hospital, crashing into annoyed people that cursed at him along the way.

He finally stopped running when he made it to a quiet corridor in the hospital. With his hand flat on his chest, Draco tried to catch his breath.

Everything was silent for a minuscule second until he heard a voice coming from a room a few steps ahead of him.

Draco knew he could recognise that voice anywhere in this whole entire planet.

It was the same voice that had been haunting his mind and infiltrating his existence since that night at the bar.

You had a worried expression on your pretty features as the healer kept talking to you.

“Everything looks good y/n, your vitals, the baby.” Said the healer and you placed your hand lightly on your stomach.

Draco didn’t even hear what the healer said next. The accelerating sound of his heart was too loud.

Could it be?

Why didn’t you tell him?

Maybe the baby wasn’t his.

But why was he suddenly wishing it was—

“Draco?” You asked when you saw him standing outside the door.

The way you uttered his name, softly with your voice slightly cracking, felt like the break of dawn after a long cold night—You were his daylight.

“Sorry—I was just um passing by..” He said, hesitantly prying the door open.

“I’m sorry Mr. Malfoy, but you cannot be here unless you are family.” The healer said coldly, giving him a nod of disapproval.

“I guess I’ll be on my way then.” Draco mumbled with his eyes never leaving yours. “It was good seeing you—”

“Wait.” You called out before he could walk away and he eyed you quizzically. “Draco, there’s something you need to know.”

He held his breath and patiently waited for what you were doing to say next.

You looked even more beautiful than you did the last time he saw you. Your cheeks were dewy, your eyes a bit glassy and his most basic instincts were telling him that he needed to protect you no matter what. He didn’t even hear what the healer said as she excused herself from the room.

“Draco I’m—”

“I know.” He said softly as he let his finger tips trail the side of your face. “I heard everything.”

“Not everything.” You said as you held his other hand and gently placed it on your stomach.

Draco let out a sharp breath that he didn’t even realize he was holding back.

It was like he’d caught the train that he was so desperately trying to catch.

It was like he was finally headed home.

“Merlin! Y/n.” He gasped as he instantly cupped your face in his hands. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know what to tell you. I didn’t know how you’d react and I was terrified.”

If only you knew just how happy he was.

If only he knew just how much he wanted to care for you and the baby.

If only you knew how he felt about you.

“I’m here now.” He whispered and placed a gentle kiss on your lips. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thank you.” You murmured against his lips.

“Let me take you out y/n.” He murmured. “Let me take you to dinner tonight and we will figure the rest together.”

~~~~

Draco/ general tag list: @maybesandohnos @justfangirlthingies @badslytherin @dlmmdl , @desiredmalfoy @wh0re4blaise @marrymetheonott @quacksonsssandtea @rvaldez7569 @Berriemafoy @Thegaudess @itchywitch33 @lunar0se10 @emma67 @savagelysarcasticslytherin @teawineaddict @fantasyfairysworld @trashyvicks @h0ggyw0ggyh0gwarts @l0vely-lupin @linasylveon @dracomalfoys-wh0re @dracomalfoyisindahouse @sycathorn-slush @lalunemoonstone @supermisunderstoodoceans @belladaises @riddleswh0r3crux @justreadingficsdontmindme @axdxis @97santoki @laceycallisto @haroldpotterson @thetipsysaquatch @darlingmalfoy @letsmariya @malfoysbitch @turn-to-page-394-please . Sorry if I missed anybody. I am so sleep deprived.

Join my tag list here .

Alternatively, you can message me if you’d like to be added or removed from my list.

Read my other stories here.

much love,

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco fanfiction #draco smut #draco x reader smut #draco x yn #draco x you #draco lucius malfoy #Draco

517 notes · View notes

myckicade · 3 years

Text

Prompt: Ok so we all know Coco is touch starved, and would be clingy af in a relationship. What about Coco x wife!reader, while she’s trying to do basic errands/chores and Coco is her shadow?

A/N: I’ve been waiting for this one. I really have. Hee hee. I just adore Coco. <3 . This piece sort of follows the story of the last two Coco x Reader pieces I have written, but it will stand-alone, just fine. And, I swear, these things just have a mind of their own. I can continue to apologize for length, and content, but, in the end... I let the story tell itself. ;) . <3 .

As a warning, I come from Vermont, where we have a plastic bag ban. Last I knew, California was the first state to have one. I don’t know how that would translate to Santo Padre, but… When I mention fabric bags, I mean reusables, and the ban is why. ^^;;;;.

Title: Worthwhile

Teaser: He’s a little rough, your Coco, foul-mouthed, and quick to anger. Untrusting, and bitchier than a woman, on his best day. But, once you have his love, you have it. All of it.

“Okay…” you murmur, slowly, eyes scanning over the paper in front of you. Fifteen items, nothing crazy. Shouldn’t take you more than an hour, tops, and that includes travel to and from the store. “I think I’ve got everything we need… And, specials included your beer, and those little frozen cream puffs.”

Beside you, Coco groans, deep and guttural. “Fuck, I love those things.”

You giggle, but keep reading. Your man is too damn cute. “Feminine products.”

“Do those count as special?” Coco genuinely sounds thoughtful, as he steps up behind you, where you are leaning over the counter top. He wraps his arms around your waist, chin coming to rest on your shoulder. “Kinda’ a necessity, ain’t they?”

Tipping your head, you glance to your husband. Seriously. This man is a treasure. “Why don’t you run for political office?” you tease, pleased when Coco chuckles.

“Yeah, my record’ll look great, on the campaign trail.”

You shrug. “You can tackle pink tax, and tax evasion, at the same time.”

Coco grins, and steals a peck off your lips. “What else you got on there, muñeca?”

“Hmmm, let’s see…” You turn back to your list, tapping the pen against your lips, thoughtfully. Spying the next item on it, you try not to let out another giggle. He’s not going to like this one. “Letty asked if we could have that cauliflower pizza thing for dinner, tonight.”

As expected, this groan is decidedly not from food lust. “Fuckin’ vegetarians. When the hell is she gonna’ get over this shit?”

“It’s just a phase, Coco,” you remind him, for the… Well, honestly, you’ve lost track. It started shortly after the wedding, Letty’s change in diet, and you’re still not convinced the two aren’t related. You’re just not entirely sure how. But, two months in, and she’s still looking healthy, so you won’t send up any alarms. “It’s very popular at her high school, right now.”

Coco scoffs, disgusted. “When the hell’d she start copyin’ other people, anyway? My girl ain’t no follower.”

The words send a shot straight to your heart. He’s a little rough, your Coco, foul-mouthed, and quick to anger. Untrusting, and bitchier than a woman, on his best day. But, once you have his love, you have it. All of it. The love he has for Leticia is the greatest proof. They may carry on like cats and dogs, but when push comes to shove, there is nothing they won’t do for one another. My girl. It brings a warmth to your soul, and a smile to your lips.

You shake it off, enough to formulate a response. “She’s figuring out how to be her own woman. Trying new things.” You shrug, not wanting to make a big deal of it. You were Letty’s age, once, of course. And, a girl, to boot. Some things, Coco just won’t be able to understand. “It’s a process.” He hums, still disgruntled, but doesn’t push out another word. “You want anything else?” you ask, holding up your list. “I’ve gotta’ get going, before I run into the football widows.”

Before you can even take a step away, Coco tightens his arms around you. “You sure you gotta’ go, though?” he asks, leaning in to brush his lips against your neck. “With the house all to ourselves, like this?”

“If I don’t go,” you start, as Coco’s touches gain intent, becoming teasing kisses. Damn him. It feels nice, you won’t lie, but there are other things on your mind, right now. Priorities.

You’re just… having trouble remembering what they are.

Oh. Yeah. Shopping.

“If I don’t go, we won’t have anything for dinner.”

Another kiss, accompanied by a barely-there swipe of tongue. You shiver, and Coco moves his lips to your ear. “We can order in,” he whispers, breath so invitingly warm against your skin.

Oh, this asshole.

“And, what are we supposed to have for breakfast, tomorrow?” you try, again. “Half an Eggo, and a pack of Skittles?”

Coco cuddles you closer, again. “Ain’t you never heard about livin’ on love, baby?” Some of his smoothest work, that is. And, it’s almost convincing. Almost. You can imagine the afternoon ahead, if you give in. Your clothes will come off, and won’t be back on until the last second, before Letty walks back through the front door. By that time, you’ll be too tired to roll your ass off the bed, let alone go grocery shopping. And, you promised Letty you’d talk Coco into that cauliflower pizza.

“Great as that sounds,” you agree, preparing to capitalize on the truth. You ease yourself away from Coco’s stubborn hold, and give him one more smooch, just to soften the blow to come. “I don’t think Letty will appreciate the sentiment.”

A third groan. You must be going for a record. “C’mon, (y/n).” Oh, he’s whining. It’s so cute, it’s unreal. “We’ll find some place that delivers that rabbit food shit.”

Unfortunately for Coco, you’re already grabbing your bag. Lucky for you. You’re still two seconds from giving him what he wants. (He just doesn’t need to know so). “I’ll be back in a while.” God willing. “If you think of anything else, call my cell.” You rush out the front door, and don’t look back. If you see the look on your husband’s face, you know you’re as good as done.

Well, what the shit? Coco stares at the front door as it closes, you on the wrong fucking side of it. His arms are at his sides, palms turned toward the ceiling. That went so well. He kind of can’t believe you just walked away, like that. Left him alone, and wanting. In your big, empty house.

He probably should have volunteered to tag along, instead of just chasing you off.

Fuck.

Glancing around, Coco tries to find something to do. Something to clean, at the very least. But, that’s the trouble with having moved in with you, after the wedding, he supposes. Ain’t nothing to tidy up. Not that the three of you don’t have possessions. They’re all just in their proper places. Probably Leticia’s doing, in the end. He’d had a long talk with her, before the move, that she absolutely has to keep her shit where it belongs. Your house isn’t like their house. There aren’t burn marks in the carpet, or gouges in the coffee table. Dishes go in the damned dishwasher, not left to pile up on the counter, or in the sink. Beds get made. Laundry gets folded, and put away. No more wrinkled heaps in the clothes basket. So far, the kid’s been doing good. Real good.

Coco, though? He’s never felt so unnerved in his life.

It was different when he just visited. Spent a night or two, here or there. He’d almost felt at home, then, stupid as it sounds. At home, with the knowledge he wasn’t staying. But, now? Now, the reality has settled in, and he feels so-so… out of place. There’s so much he’s struggling to adjust to.

You have a purified water system installed under the sink, where Coco is used to buying bottled water.

You have a dining room, where Coco and Letty are used to eating on the couch.

You have an extended cable package, whatever the fuck that is.

You kind of have it all, here, certainly by comparison to what Coco is used to. The best of everything. Which really makes him wonder – not for the first time – what the hell you’re doing with a dirt-poor biker for a husband? You’ve had this conversation, on multiple occasions, and you’ve explained yourself, every time. But, this time… This time, you’re not around to give that speech. You’re not around to hold him, and kiss his face, and reassure him in a way that only you can. No, you’re at the grocery store, shopping for Coco, and his kid, which was apparently a better offer than staying home with him.

Oh, nope. Nope, he’s doing it, again. He can feel it. You love him, he reminds himself. You’ve got his ring on your finger, his last name, and – God-willing – his baby in your belly. By choice. All by choice.

Coco takes a deep breath, in. Lets it back out, slowly. Tries not to get sick, for all the nerves coming up to greet him. He wraps one arm around his own torso, free hand moving up to cover his mouth.

Fuck, he hopes you get back, soon.

You let out a deep sigh, as you park your car in the garage. Oh, it is so good to be home, at long-last. Talk about Old Home Week. You’d run into everyone, and his brother, at the grocery store. Shopping had taken nearly twice as long as you’d meant for it to, and you just know Coco must be losing his mind, by now. You hate to think about it, in such terms, but, sometimes… Well, sometimes, Coco reminds you of a new puppy. You can’t really leave him alone, without some kind of separation anxiety creeping up on him.

Ah, well. At least he isn’t ripping down the drapes, and shredding the couch cushions.

You blink. Well. That you know of.

Shaking your head, you climb out of the car, mentally preparing to unload armloads of bags. Maybe, if you really, really try, today will be the day you can finally get all twenty bags in, in one trip.

Right. And, shortly thereafter, you can have both forearms set, and casted. Be a real turn-on, in the bedroom.

You’ve managed to grab half a dozen bags, when the door to the mud room opens. “Hey, don’t grab too many!” Letty warns, as she comes hopping down the steps. “Let us help!”

Glancing up, you smile. For having had such a rough start, Letty can be a sweet girl. You know she gets that from her father. “Well, thank you,” you reply, resting a few, fabric handles onto her outstretched hands.

Letty grins, lowering her hands to her sides, before leaning in. “Did you talk him into it?” she whispers, conspiratorially.

You snicker, and whisper back, “He isn’t getting a choice. He’s outnumbered.”

“Yes!” Her hiss of victory is hardly subtle, catching Coco’s attention as he pokes his head out the door.

“You two plottin’ against me, again?”

“Yes,” you and Letty reply, in unison, leading you to erupt into a fit of giggles.

Coco is all grins. “’Course, you are.” He strides closer, he and Letty dancing around one another as she moves into the house. You lean into the car, and retrieve a few more bags. If Coco’s out here, he might as well assist. He’s peering into the car, once you stand back up, and lets out a low whistle. “Damn, (y/n)! You buy out the whole store, or what?”

“Hardly,” you reply, dryly. You hold up your hands, offering Coco the bags. “Here you go.”

“Oh, don’t mind if I do.” Thankfully, your hold on the bags is solid. Instead of grabbing the groceries, Coco’s hands are suddenly groping all over you. One hand is settled firmly at your ass, the other sliding into your hair, at the back of your head. He wastes no time diving in for a slow, deep kiss, and, damn, does his timing suck. He could have at least let you put the bags down, first. The contact makes you tingle, and has you regretting your decision not to stay home. Coco pulls back, after a few seconds, and hums. “Mm. Best delivery ever.”

You can’t help the small snort of amused laughter that leaves your throat. “Good try, Coco,” you praise, easing back far enough to offer him the bags, again. The look of disappointment on his face is just pitiful. “I’m not banging you in the garage.”

He has the grace to mock gasp. “I’d never!” It’s a crock, and you both know it. He looks too amused to be repentant, and you look too aware to be angry. You just raise your hands, slightly, in a third offer. Coco sighs. “All right. All right.” He takes the bags from your hands.

“Thank you.” You grab another load for yourself, rounding the open car door to follow Coco’s lead, into the house. One more trip for each of you, and you should have it covered. So much for only buying fifteen items.

Coco might be right about buying out the store.

Watching from the dining room, Coco has a good view of you and Letty unpacking the last of the groceries. Damn kid, she’d thrown him out, about ten minutes prior.

“Less groping, more helping, Coco,” Letty had warned him, after he’d tried to pin you against the sink.

It had been his last warning. Now, he’s been banished. Not the worst thing in the world, not really. Over the last few weeks, he’s really learned that there are some tasks he’s not so fond of. Pruning roses… Yeah, he’s pretty sure you’ll never let him do that, again. And, hey, nobody told him what to fill the bird feeder with. Unpacking groceries goes on that list, somewhere between line-drying laundry, and a streak-free mirror. He’s not sure why. Goodness knows, it makes him feel like a kid at Christmas, most times. Since being with you, though…

Since being with you, he feels like he’s taking advantage of something.

Yes, groceries are a strange place to let that feeling land, but he can’t help it. Coco’s been responsible for feeding himself since before he cares to remember. The only time anyone provided his meals was during deployment, and half that shit barely passed for edible. You, though… You keep the house stocked with more food than he’s seen anywhere, outside of a corner market. Letty always has options to take to school, and there’s a nutritious dinner on the table, almost every night. (Some nights, he actually does win the battle for delivery). If Coco goes on a run, you send him along with snacks for the road. And, yeah, he kinda’ likes that. He also likes the energy bars you picked out for him, last week. Something with cherries, and dark chocolate. He wonders, for a second, if you picked up any more. Come in handy during his mid-week trip outta’ town.

Coco blinks. Then, he does it again, just for good measure. That’s it. That’s what’s so fucking weird about this whole thing.

It’s you.

Okay, no, it’s not you, you. But, it’s you. It’s you, taking care of him. It’s you, seeing to his needs. Letty’s needs. It’s you, being his wife, his partner. It’s you, slotting into the place of role-model for his teenaged daughter. Welcoming them into your home. Not treating it like it’s your home. It’s you, being so fucking perfect for him, it’s taken his mind all this time to catch up with reality.

Coco doesn’t get perfect. Perfect doesn’t want him.

Except, now, it does.

Before he knows what he’s doing, Coco strides into the kitchen. He doesn’t wait for you to put the box of pasta in the cupboard. He just takes it from your hand, ignoring your confused look, as he tosses it onto the counter.

“Coco!” Letty admonishes, but it’s no use. He’s already lifting you off the floor, arms around your perfect backside. The kid gives a long-suffering sigh, he hears it, but pays it no mind.

Nothing – nothing – is going to keep him from holding you in his arms.

Your own arms go around Coco’s neck, and you smile down at him, surprise still lingering in your eyes. “Uhm… Hi, there.”

Coco grins. “Hey, muñeca.” Leaning up, he pecks you on the lips.

“Can I help you with something?” you ask, to which Coco shakes his head. Closes his eyes, as your fingers play in his hair.

“Nah. Got all I need.”

Pulling a package of mixed vegetables from the half-unpacked shopping bag, Letty rolls her eyes. You two… God, you’re gross. Coco always has his hands on you, no matter what you’re trying to do. It’s a wonder you don’t carry a damned fly swatter around. Actually, it’s a wonder you ever accomplish anything. He’s always smooching, and smiling, and snuggling at you. It’s disgusting. It’s pathetic.

It’s so damned cute, it’s sickening.

Really, Letty’s enjoying seeing Coco so happy. Like, genuinely happy. Not the false pride he carries around with his kutte. He’s more relaxed, nowadays. He drinks less, and he spends more time at home, both of which mean he’s not hanging around with those skanks at the clubhouse. He eats more, he’s healthier… Nothing to complain about, there.

And, hey, she has no complaints about you, either. You’re pretty cool, all-around. A woman who takes care of herself, and her family, and doesn’t bitch about either one. You’re not using Coco for money, or status, none of the shit she’s always been worried her father would fall into. There aren’t arguments, every night, not even between herself and Coco, as of late. No hostilities, nothing to avoid the house over. Just good dinners, and movies, and a new fish tank in her room. (Okay, so, you’d earned some major points with that birthday gift. She hadn’t actually expected to get one, when she’d mentioned it). For the first time, she understands what a peaceful, happy family feels like. It feels nice. It feels like home.

Glancing back to where Coco now has you perched on the counter top, stealing the most syrupy-sweet smooches… Letty can’t help but smile. Home is A-okay by her.

The sound of the air conditioner humming in the bedroom usually lulls you right to sleep. Tonight, it’s just providing you with white noise, a low background track to your thoughts. You don’t mind, not really. It gives you a few minutes to reflect on the day that’s just ended. To plan your day, tomorrow. To weave your fingers through Coco’s hair, and listen to him breathe. That, alone, makes it worthwhile.

Coco has been asleep against your shoulder for nearly an hour, now. Your arms are wrapped around him, comfortably, his own around your waist. You’d urged him up to bed, after he’d fallen asleep on the couch, his head in your lap. He’d snoozed from the middle of the movie, to the end of the nightly news report. Letty had tsked, and complained that no one had any business, whatsoever, in falling asleep during Zombieland. (How he’d stayed asleep was still a wonder to you, both, for how hard you’d been laughing at Tallahassee). With your fingers in his hair, Coco had been blissfully unaware for a couple of hours.

Glancing down, you take in the sight of your husband’s sleeping face. He looks so damn peaceful, the kind you’d outright murder to preserve for him. Coco’s still struggling with sleep, and relaxation, even though you’d hoped it would ease up, once your nuptials had passed. Most of it, you know will never go away. Anxiety doesn’t have a magic wand, or some perfect little on/off switch. And, all things considered, today wasn’t a terrible day. You’d been able to leave the house, with minimal panic on Coco’s part. Granted, it had taken extra time to get the groceries put away, and dinner made, but… You understand, as much as you are able to, that Coco needs the reassurances. It doesn’t cost you anything to carve a few moments from the day, every here and there, to give him what he needs.

Okay, so it did cost you that first batch of pancakes, this morning. They’d burned on the stove, and set off the smoke alarms, when he’d insisted on a dance through the living room. But, Coco loved the song you’d been playing on your Spotify, so there was really no denying him.

Oh, and… Yeah, you’d missed that phone call from the bank, the week before. Your husband had slipped up next to you, on the porch swing, and snuggled you to within an inch of your life. An easy fix, and you still got the business loan, but…

And, sure, you’ve been late to work, on numerous occasions. Coco has a habit of sneaking into your morning shower. And, after that… Well, hell, you own the company. It’s not like you have to explain to the boss that you’re late to your shift, on account of baby-dancing. (Fucking forums).

Point is, you’re more than happy to take care of Coco’s emotional needs. It may take you an extra hour to pay your bills. Daily tidying may have become every-other-day-if-you’re-lucky tidying. And, your ass may have gone numb, tonight, while he slept on your thigh. During which time, you could have loaded the dishwasher. Taken out the trash. Any number of tasks that have been neglected, in the name of Coco. They can wait.

Leaning in, you press a tender kiss to your husband’s forehead, before settling back in, and closing your eyes. Yes, chores can wait. Work can wait. The whole world can hold it, with both hands. So long as you’re around, Coco’s well-being will never have to take the back seat.

P.S. If Coco denies it, he’s full of it. He fucking loved that cauliflower pizza. Fucking vegetarians, indeed.

Masterlist | Request | Tag List

#mayans m.c. fanfiction #mayans m.c.#coco x reader #coco x you #coco cruz x reader #coco cruz x you #johnny coco cruz #anonymous request #fanfiction requests #ask box fic

213 notes · View notes

problematicfavesareproblematic · 3 years

Text

NSFW with Chuck Grant

~ ~ ~

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

Charles Grant is a walking example of “acts like a badass, is actually a softie” bc BOY, IS HE HARD (lol) TO GET A READ ON.

When you first start fucking, he doesn’t really have the instinct to stick around after and soak up the afterglow- mostly bc that’s not the dynamic that any of his previous relationships operated under, but also bc he’s like Lieb and doesn’t feel comfortable being vulnerable and potentially having you reject him. He only confidently leaves the first time, and then he judges whether to stay or not on how you look at him as he makes to get dressed after the second time you boink. If you want your space, he’ll go and be back the next day as long as you let him, but if you look even a little bit offended or hurt, he’s getting his ass back in that bed and doing whatever he can to get that sad look out of your eyes.

When he does stay, he’s down to give you whatever he can manage.

He’s all for slowly kissing you while trailing his fingertips up and down your side, but if you just want to sleep beside him he is more than cool with it (he’ll probably still pet you a lil bit after you fall asleep bc he’s soft for you but shh shh shh don’t tell anyone). The only thing he isn’t very good at doing is pillow talk, especially right after sex. He’s too worried about saying the wrong thing and fucking up what he’s managed to establish with you.

It isn’t until after he’s shot that he realizes how nice it feels to have someone else take care of him, and when you do so after sex it solidifies the fact that you don’t see him as a burden- you want him and you want to stay. Thank god, too. He doesn’t think he could recover without you (again, not that he’d ever tell you that)

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

Your AhhhhhhHSSSSssssSSSSSs!!!!!!

Oh wow, look at you- owner of the cutest butt he’s ever seen. Can he put his hands on it? Can he squeeze it? Please please puh-lease can you let him watch it jiggle as he fucks you? If you’ve answered yes to any of these questions, then you’ve made each and every single one of his dreams come true.

He doesn’t discriminate in his love for butts- he’s an equal-opportunity appreciator of the Majesty of the Female Ass™. If it changes size throughout your relationship, he’ll love it even more. Absolutely shameless.

On himself? He likes his legs- especially his thighs.

He likes how strong they are, despite how much he hates Sobel for getting them to their current strength re: Currahee. But he gets over it quickly bc oh wow is he happy with their endurance while trying to keep up with you, both sexually and otherwise. The day he realized you could ride yourself to orgasm on them was the day he died and went to heaven and was sent back to sin again.

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

He likes cumming on your pubic mound and then watching it slide down your pussy, thank you very much. If you guys are trying for kids or in a position where you don’t have to worry about not having kids, he’ll cum inside of you happily but oh wow he likes watching it slide down your lower lips. BONUS POINTS if he gets to catch it on his thumb and either stick it in your mouth OR circle your clit with it in order to get you off one more time.

Also, you asking him where he wants to cum on you gets him hot under the proverbial collar.

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

He’d do literally anything for you if you’d let him put his finger in your ass. He will genuinely kill an individual of your choice if you let him put his cock there instead. What a perv (jk it takes a lot of vulnerability for some people to convey their wants and desires to their partners plz remember that this has been a PSA).

The one thing he’ll never actually tell you about... EVER is that for a little while after meeting you for the first time in Georgia, he started hooking up with a girl who he didn’t realize (until much later) bore a striking resemblance to you. He’d had to end the relationship when he straight-up called out your name when he came (he was a lil drunk, just tipsy enough to slip up) and full-on booked it out of there bc not only had he pissed the girl off, but his shout had woken up her family- namely her very angry father- and barely escaped with his life.

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

He’s had two lovers before you, but one of them was really experienced and patient and bless that woman. All he really has to do is learn what you like and he’ll commit it to memory.

And you better be damn sure that he’ll use that knowledge against you/for his benefit.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy style for all the reasons mentioned before. Or reverse cowgirl. Or normal cowgirl. His hands + your butt= dream combo.

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

He can be goofy, but more than anything else he likes it when you’re goofy. Chuck can get a little too in his own head at times, which can lead to frustration/self-doubt- ESPECIALLY while recovering from his brain injury. You reminding him that sex is meant to be fun does him a huge favor, bc poor lamb will forget that every so often.

So please, nibble at his earlobe in that way that tickles him. Make a quip at the expense of one of your friends. Mock the silly sound of the moan you just let slip out.

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

He’s not going to groom unless you tell him to, but he also doesn’t feel like you need to groom for him, either. Chuck’s not afraid to admit how much his personal hygiene has improved since meeting you.

I can promise you that if you’re heavily invested in skin/hair care, he’ll probably be just as into building his own routine.

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

You always have Chuck’s full and undivided attention during sex, but he won’t necessarily show it unless he gets the guy feeling/you tell him that you want him to be. He’s going to whisper sexy things into your ear, call you a good girl (if not his good girl), and do everything in his power (at the time, at least (he can get a little distracted if you’re doing something particularly sexy)) to make sure you feel just how appreciated you are. He gets more and more confident in his PDA as your relationship progresses, but when it’s just you two? You’ll never meet a bigger sweetheart.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Ok, so I’m deciding for you that mutual masturbation is a thing that you’re both into, m’kay?

I'm also making the executive decision that you really enjoy watching him get himself off. You walked in on him one time, before you’d had sex, and were so stunned that you just watched in rapt attention until awkwardly backing out of the room and slamming the door shut. He’d nearly cum right then and there, and it got you extremely aroused.

The next time you see each other, at some Georgia bar while on a pass, you offhandedly mention that you wish you hadn’t left and FROM THAT DAY ON he always lets you know when he’s feeling the urge and how you’re more than welcome to watch.

And when you do? It’s always a much shorter experience than he intends bc wow how hot are you?

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Frottage! Dry Humping! Grinding!

Allow me to explain:

In the months following D-Day, it was quickly understood that being on the frontlines meant having traditional forms of sex were no longer on the table (hehe) for you two. You’d experimented with rucking your trousers down your thighs, his thighs, both of your thighs, and each time it was a disaster (with one of the worst times ending up falling onto Tab after he’d inadvertently opened a door that Chuck had been fucking you against. Chuck had nearly thrown fists when Tab refused to look aware from your bare ass.)

So yall started grinding- quickly finding out that the bunches of fabric separating your bodies not only led to new forms of stimulation, but it also meant that you both started to utilize dirty talk. There’s something about your trembling lips at his ear, your warm whispers of ‘so good’ and ‘is this really all you need, Chuck? Me, writhing on you like this? What does that say about you, you desperate boy??’

Boy’s bought a one-way ticket to Boner City, USA.

PLUS! What a way to keep warm during Bastogne? Everyone is so jealous that they don’t have a super foxy megahot babe like you to grind upon.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Hmm…..is saying anywhere a cop-out? Because he’s down for anywhere, he’ll follow your lead and rise to the occasion. Such a perv i s2g.

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

♫ YOOOUUUUUUUU!!!!!! ♫

You have this one eyebrow quirk you do when you’re in the mood, and it just so happens to be similar to the brow raise you give someone trying to outsmart you (which is another turn on for him- you putting some overly-confident sonofabitch back in their place after allowing them to mansplain at you for a little bit. First boner he ever got (since meeting you, obviously) came after witnessing you telling Joe Liebgott to stfu in cutting German after he’d made some off-color comment about your ass.)

So, more often than not, he'll get a little turned on when you argue with people. Maybe even when you argue with him- who knows? not me. (i totally do, and he totally is)

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

Any sort of pain play, on either of you.

After being in genuine agony for so long while recovering from all of the surgeries, the idea of seeking any more pain out just doesn’t make sense. Chuck also doesn’t want to see you in pain- even if you’re asking him to make you feel it. You’d both suffered through the pain of hunger, frostbite, insect bites, sunburn, and just war in general (all of which had emotionally taken a toll on him bc he felt completely helpless and hated that he couldn’t do anything to take your hurt away).

Sex and pain just doesn’t go together for him. Sorry not sorry

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

He loves having you go down on him, adores the way your eyes look up at him as if you’re challenging him to withstand your beautiful ministrations.

He also is a big fan of going down on you, but PLEASE PLEASE PUH-LEASE ride his face. Good lord.

He’s a sucker (teehee) for it- something about you using him like it’s all you keep him around for gets him hot. You also get this certain snarl on your lips when you are getting close that makes him lose his goddamn mind bc WOW YOU ARE SO ATTRACTIVE and HOLY SHIT YOU CHOSE HIM OF ALL PEOPLE? WOWOWOW.

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

He’ll follow your lead/body language in terms of pace. Most sex sessions shift between both slow and deep as well as fast and hard anyway, so he is a fan of both.

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

A necessary evil, as far as Chuck is concerned. He’ll do them, and he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy the spontaneity of them, but he would prefer not to be rushed when he’s with you.

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

He was riskier until that one time Tab caught you guys, after which he chilled out. Which you are thankful for, bc you’ve spoken with Lieb’s wife and BOY have those two gotten into some embarrassing situations bc of how risky that kid is.

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

The longest he's gone is 4 rounds (it was celebratory sex on VE day, with both of you in the best shape you'd ever been in and too high on relief to listen to your bodies. Ya'll were sore and dehydrated afterward but LORD was it worth it.

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

He’d be very open to the idea of toys! On you, he’s automatically cool with it, but it does take him a little bit to get his head around the idea of using toys himself. Again, 40s/50s= somewhat repressed discussion about deviations from the traditional male sexuality- but Chuck is more willing and ready to challenge the societal norms than most. Very sexy of him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He always intends to tease you, but more often than not he gets so turned on that he can’t follow that intention through. You are aware of this and ABSOLUTELY weaponize this knowledge. Get it, fam.

During day-to-day conversation, however, you both tease each other constantly. It’s been like that since you’ve met each other- always making innuendos and one-upping the other and for some reason that never even went away.

When Chuck woke up and the doctors brought you in to see him, the first thing he told you was that you looked terrible. When you’d replied with a sniff, a smile and a “guess the doc’s were full of shit when they said there was no change in your vision, huh?”- Chuck had smiled so hard it hurt.

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

He’s a choked moan kind of guy. His face gets all scrunched up and his body shakes and he curses quietly under his breath (it’s vv cute and hot, FYI). he doesn’t even try and be quiet on purpose, he just seems to lose the ability to be vocal, tbh. If he’s drinking or if it’s been a hot minute since yall have gotten to do the do, he’ll probably be a bit louder. Like, maybe one loud cry of your name (see: the letter D)

It doesn’t bother him if you make sounds at all, just so you know. If anything, he likes that he’s a quiet cummer bc then he can hear any and all of your sounds.

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

biting your ass while eating you out from behind is *bang* *bang* *bang* *click* *cash register noise*.

Especially if you squeal and smack at him after he does it.

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

Average in all respects but OH MAN does he know how to work it to his advantage. Get ready for a wild ride, my dude.

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

Higher post-war, tbh. Chuck had had to be on bed rest for so long that he thought he may never get the chance to have sex again, so he totally makes a point to indulge in you every chance that he can get (but he’s cool if you say no, too).

But, as I mentioned in ‘risk’, he’s not going to be humping your leg in public or anything (ok but imagine if you were a dom to his sub and you made him do that holy fuck)

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He does not sleep very well, poor bb. He will be asleep but his mind will be working through all kinds of things ranging from PTSD to what shoes he wanted to wear to dinner with your parents that weekend. Good thing there’s a remedy to this ailment- your pussy sex with you!

While he can’t konk out immediately, he is able to relax. He will allow himself to get lost in the rhythm of your breathing, the weight of your hand on his arm or your arm wrapped around his middle. He will sometimes nuzzle into you as you’re drifting off to sleep, and when you press a kiss to his forehead he finally feels safe.

~ ~ ~

taglist: @sunsetmando @televisionboy @now-im-a-belieber @tvserie-s-world @holdingforgeneralhugs @mrseasycompany @itswormtrain @mrsalwayswrite @happyveday

#band of brothers imagines #band of brothers x reader #chuck grant x reader #problematicfavesareproblematic

114 notes · View notes

thebeebi · 3 years

Text

your little games pt. 1

pairing: Jungkook x reader

warnings: smut with a story, non-con, mention of r*pe attempt, implied murder and many more! Read only if you are okay with these topics!

genre: historical AU, 18th century?

word count: 2.7k+ [part 1]

a/n: Finally I got to do a Jungkook fanfic. I am actually happy with this one. So please let me know what you think! Enjooooy! ♥

You ran away from the man who tried to take an advantage of you. You stabbed him and escaped. Escaped to the arms of the handsome captain who was even worse than the man you just killed.

I must run away! You looked around yourself, trying to not notice a dead body on the floor. Still numb from the thing you did to the older man. The fear of being found made you keep going. You took all of your things and kneeled next to the body. Looking away, you patted around his pocket to find the key to unlock the room. The room you were forcefully locked in. You quivered with fear but the possibility of being caught kept you going. Taking off the bloody dress, you put on the new clean one and shoved the old one into the backpack. You hugged the bad and started walking towards the door with the key in the right hand ready to unlock the world of freedom. Hesitating for a bit, you stood still and wondered what is awaiting you out there. You felt fear once again but decided it was better out there than in this hellhole. You run out of the door fast, passing by the kitchen downstairs, stopping in front of the door frame, but instead of the door, there was a heavy curtain. You pushed it a bit to the side and the fear within raised even more. Someone was there. You backed away looking for another exit, but the feeling of someone following you was there. Your breathing was fast and you felt like you could not go on but the freedom was so close. The heartbeat was fast but your steps were faster. You finally found the exit and ran out of the house you were held in. You run, run far away from the place not knowing what direction you were going in. You just wanted to flee from that place. Maybe if I get lost, it would fool the person who is after me? You thought but was confused because you did not hear any footsteps behind you. Is my own heartbeat cause of me not hearing well? You kept on running through the streets of the town, passing by the huge shops, the empty market, around the mansions and the small looking ordinary houses.

People were looking at you but you did not care. You were exhausted and even though you were scared, you stopped for a second to catch a breath. You felt the stinging pain with every breath you took but you were okay with it. As long as you were far away from that place. You noticed how the air changed and the smell of salt and water hit your nostrils. The eyes that were closed before opened widely and you looked up. The heavy fog caused you not to see anything but the fire torch on the side of the house. You weren’t sure where you were, so you slowly started heading towards the only source of the light. Not like you had any other option. You did not want to return to the fog-filled darkness, so you walked towards the fire torch. You could hear the sound of the waves hitting the rocky wall and screeching noise of wooden planks which were presumably used as the floor on the ships, but could not see anything. You did not even know where you were exactly heading to. The sounds were coming from each side and the only source of light disappeared right in front of your eyes.

“I swear to God, it is her! We found her! Come on, Taehyung! Take her.” You turned towards the voices looking surprised at two men approaching your shivering body. They knew. They are coming for me. You were sure they were the people who were following you. You could not move so you stood there waiting for her fate. “Hey there,” said the blonde one of the duo and smiled from ear to ear at his companion. “The captain will like her. What do you think, Taehyung?” The brown-haired man licked his lower lip and simply nodded. “Definitely. This one will work.”

You could feel yourself trembling under the perverted gazes of the men who were too close to your liking but could not say anything. You knew you had no right to do so. The only thing left within is your strong will. The only thing no one can take from you. “Where are you taking me?” you whispered softly. Taehyung laughed and winked at the older man next to him. “She is willing, Jimin. He will love it. Only if I could, I would love to be in his place tonight.” Said Taehyung biting his lower lip once again. “Just a bit further,” said Jimin and tilted his head to the side pointing at the slowly ship that was slowly showing up. “On the board of Bangtan. Let’s go.“ And so you followed him, while the other male was right behind you. There was no chance of running away. You were surprised by the new setting, not understanding why they were taking you on the ship but it did not matter. My life if not mine anymore anyway. You thought as you willing held Jimin’s hand to hop on the wooden plank that connected the docks with the ship. He swiftly let go once you were on board making sure that no one else saw, that he touched the captain’s lady. He pointed towards the direction and asked you to follow him as he led you towards the wooden door hidden at the and of the hallway. In front of them, he halted his steps, took a deep breath and softly knocked three times. Without waiting for the response, Jimin opened the door and made his way inside, into the captain’s cabin. The unfamiliar man stood up from the table. Only if you weren’t so scared, you could have noticed that he was tall, well built and that his eyes were deep brown. The man had brown slim fitted trousers, that were too tight around his waist and the snow-white shirt was unbuttoned down to his hips. It showed his muscular broad chest. He looked a bit like a pirate but also as a demon. His dark hair was up to his chin but the best part was his face. It was like he was made by God’s touch. His nose was straight, but from the profile, you could notice a tiny bump on it. His plump lips were the ones Eve would kiss every day in the Eden but suddenly he was here. And you were well aware of that. He was there and so close to you. If only you weren’t in this situation, you would do anything to get to know that man. When he smiled, your knees went weak. He came closer to you, he measured you from the bottom to the top, not missing any detail on your body.

“I see you did your best today, Jimin. I bet it took you long before you found this gem.“ Said the beautiful man still looking at you. “Not really, captain.” He replied and Taehyung swiftly added: “We found her near the docks, she was very willing.” Taehyung smirked as he looked at your body hungrily. The tall man nodded and slowly started walking around you. He was not touching you by anything than his dark lusty eyes, that were appreciating every curve of your body and your breasts which looked like they were moulded by the goddess of beauty, Aphrodite. The backpack you were holding in you hand went back against your chest, as you were trying to cover from the longing gaze of the captain. The dress you changed into was of thin fabric and you regretted not changing into male clothes back then. The tall man stood still in front of you, smiled, but you weren’t looking at him. You refused to look at him wondering how is your fate going to look like from now on. The two men that brought you there were smirking, satisfied with tonight’s present for their captain.

The tall man moved to the side, so Jimin could whisper something to him. You briefly looked around the cabin, but could not see anything. Even though you looked strong, from the inside you felt like you were about to break down. You were tired, exhausted and confused. You could not imagine the trial on the ship, but because you did not know anything about law and these things, you thought that you would be sent to some colony for killing a man. Or so you tough. Oh God, when I think about all of my childhood dreams… When I think about how I wanted to run away from poverty just to be almost raped by that old man. I wanted to have an easy life. But I will be sent to prison or some unknown colony for the sin I committed. You sighed as you got reminded of the reasons why you ended up in the room with the man who tried to take advantage of you. I killed a man, they caught me and now I have to accept whatever the fate prepared for me. You shut your eyes tightly and bit your lower lip nervously. With the saddening thoughts, you went numb. You were guilty. They caught you and now you have to wait for the trail. You were so deep in the thoughts, you did not hear two men that brought you there left.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the deep chuckle of the man standing in front of you. He bowed. “Welcome. What is your name, little one?” He smiled. “Y/N,” you exhaled but when you saw him tilting his head you added softly “captain.” He nodded and walked towards the table. “That is a very beautiful name, Y/N. My name is Jeon Jungkook, but my friends call me Jungkook. Have you eaten already?” You hesitated to give him an answer but nodded at the end. “Wine, maybe?” Jungkook asked and took the bottle to pour himself and then brought a bottle closer to you. You shook your head to reject a drink and looked down on the floor. Captain laughed silently at your reaction and walked to you until he stopped closely. He took the backpack you were holding eagerly and threw it to the other side of the cabin still keeping his gaze on you. He was addicted to your beauty and dress which provided just a tiny coverage of your curves. Your skin was reflecting the light from the candle placed on the table. The captain saw a beautiful woman sitting in front of him with an exquisite bust that was showing above the cut of the dress. As you were breathing, your breasts were rising and falling down. For Jungkook it was a beautiful sight he could not get enough of.

He came even closer to you and wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you up. He covered your lips with his. You could feel a hint of bitter wine, the taste your father liked. You were so surprised and reminded of the past, that you forgot to protest and stood still, letting the man kissing you. You could see yourself out of your body, but when his tongue slipped into your mouth a wave of emotions came crashing down of you. Most of all you felt excitement when this tongue opened your soft lips and entered inside. From somewhere within, you felt a weird feeling which was strangely comforting. You knew if the circumstances were different, you would like the situation you were in. Captain stepped back smiling but you could see his eyes were filled with lust. When he pulled his hand away, you gasped as you felt your dress falling down to the floor. For a moment your eyes met, but you interrupted it by trying to lift the dress back up but his hands held your shoulders and pulled you into his embrace. It was when you realised that the man wanted. What he was doing. You knew you could not do anything. Your body was weak from what happened earlier today and the running just exhausted you so much, you could not do anything. You were trying to push him away. You ran away from the disgusting man who tried to take advantage of you just to run into the man who will do the same. The embrace of Mr Brown this afternoon was strong, but Jungkook’s arms were made of steel. You could not push him away to free yourself. While you were moving your hand on his body, by accident you pushed captain’s shirt down of his shoulders and it made its way down to the floor. The only wall between your bodies was a tiny material of your bra. Your lost your breath whenever he covered your lips with his and then he continued kissing your face and the top of your bust. You could feel how was his hand sliding down your back and suddenly your bra was unclasped and fell down. The exposed breast was covered by his broad chest. When you felt the heat he radiated, you strongly pushed him away and for a second you were freed. He laughed and took that as a cue to take off his shoes and trousers.

He smirked, “You are playing your little games well, but there is no way, that you would win.” He was looking at your naked bust and you could see the passion in his eyes. You were more beautiful and charming than he was wishing for. On the other hand, it was your first time seeing a naked man and it was terrifying. You stood still until the captain walked closer to you once again and when he did, you screamed and turned around ready to run away. You wanted to, but his strong grip on your waist halted any action you tried to do. The grip was strong, but it never hurt you. He did not try to do you any harm. You bowed down to bit into his hand. Captain cursed and pulled his hand back to rub the hurt spot. You took it as your cue to run but tripped and fell down to his bed. In the second he was on top of you, pressing you into the mattress. You felt like every movement you did was just encouraging him. The hair that was in a bun before was now ruffled and you could not breathe. “No!” you screamed. “Stop it! Let me go!” Captain smirked and whispered by your neck. “Oh no, little one. No. Not anymore.”

With that, he moved and for a second you could not feel his body. But soon again, you could feel as his hard member was looking for something in between your thighs until it found something. He entered you a bit and you in fear lifted your back from the bed, trying to escape the pain you started to feel. He could hear something between a scream and groan from your mouth when you felt the strong pain in the lower parts of your body. Jungkook moved back a bit surprised. You were weakly laying on the mattress shaking your head. Jungkook softly touched your cheek and whispered something you could not hear, but your eyes were closed and did not want to look at him. He was moving gently above you, kissing your hair and forehead and kept on caressing every part of your beautiful body. You weren’t moving even when you felt his gentle thrusts becoming more aggressive and soon enough he entered fully because he could not control himself anymore. You could feel that your body was about to break with every trust of his body and soon enough your eyes were filled with tears.

When the storm ended, and everything was calm, he became once again the sweet, gentle man. When he finally pulled out, you turned to the side and let out all the tears you were holding in. With the closest blanket, you covered your face and your now filthy body so he could not look at you any longer. Jungkook was confused. He looked at the beautiful woman laying next to him. Jungkook was adoring the beautiful curves of her hips and soft thighs he was holding just a few minutes ago. He reached in to touch you, while wondering what went wrong – how you were willing to come to him at first and walked into his cabin, then how you were playfully protesting but still thrusted against his length in the bed – and now you were crying in front of him with the blood on the sheet. What made you turn into a prostitute, little one?

Part 2

a/n: I really hope you liked this one, I wrote it today and decided to surprise you all! :)

#bts smut #yandere bts #jungkook smut #jungkook fics #jeon jungkook #bts yandere #jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc #jungkook x you #jungkook #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts imagines #yandere jungkook #yandere

591 notes · View notes

slashbitch2 · 3 years

Text

Lying To Her Love

i noticed there were no fics for lorraine and felt i had to remedy that

also no hate to ed he's a dilf

Lorraine wasn't really sure what prompted her to stray from the group. Conjecture would be the only way to describe it: a sudden desire to distance herself from Ed, to explore the house alone. A new feeling had also arisen deep inside, in her chest if she had to place it, similar to a compass. Like there was an internal needle pointing in the direction she was supposed to go, and she chose to trust this instinct. Though thus far her inference skills had brought about nothing but terrifying situations.

And unfortunately, it seemed this time would be no different...

The needle slowly spun round to point out a set of stairs leading down toward the basement. A layer of dust had settled upon each step, indicating that no one had ventured down so far, which only served to intrigue her further. How, in a paranormal investigation, had no one thought to check the basement? As she drew closer, Lorraine realised there was a very faint set of footsteps. They were too imperceptible to have been made recently, yet the house had supposedly been uninhabited since the disturbances began over a week ago.

Had it not been for the very insistent compass directing her down, the footsteps would've been convincing enough. Careful not to unsettle the evidence, she began to descend down the staircase, one hand tracing along the brick wall as if to ground herself in reality. With each step she could feel a weight bearing down on her chest, a dizzy wave rushing over her. At one point the sensation grew so overwhelming that she had to pause and close her eyes. Whilst stood still, the strange pressure that had been building up in her ears reached its peak. Without opening her eyes, Lorraine knew she'd crossed over to one of her prescience visions.

However, when she eventually did open them, it was to find everything exactly as she'd left it. There were no indications that anything had changed, except for the familiar feeling that she was watching through someone else's eyes. Or rather, watching what someone else wanted her to. She'd been brought here for a reason, and by god she was going to get to the bottom of this. Reinvigorated by a new determination, she practically skipped past the last few steps and onto the cold basement floor.

Here Lorraine found the first confirmation that she was no longer in reality: natural light flooding in from no visible source. It was a welcomed change from the gloom of late evening she'd left behind, but only made her more weary of whatever she was about to encounter since it was clearly trying to lure her into a false sense of security. Nonetheless, she cautiously ambled further into the open space. In fact, it was eerie how empty the room was. Usually she'd be climbing over piles of abandoned objects, trying to give equal attention to each one which often invoked fabrications of the mind. However, here there was nothing for her brain to work with, save for the occasional movement out the corner of her eye that she knew was nothing more than fiction to fill the void and warrant her apprehension.

By the time she'd reached the opposite end of the room, nothing yet had occurred to explain why she'd been dragged into this particular vision. And then, an abrupt, horrifying possibility dawned on her. What if she was stuck here? It had never happened before, but then again, in most cases 'the cause' would've revealed itself by now.

Although, with this realisation came another equally strange one. Lorraine could feel no fear, no panic, no negative emotions. All she was aware of was complete relaxation. Even her most horrific memories and upsetting images couldn't create any response. They were nothing but distant stories told by a different version of her. The positive aura filling the room started to shift into something else, into an almost crippling pleasure. It was both intense and insufficient. She found herself clutching at her stomach, as if she'd suddenly been made aware of an incapacitating emptiness. She longed for company, yet the idea of returning to reality appeared an incredibly unappealing one. Instead, Lorraine wanted to fall further into this dreamlike pleasure.

But that was what it wanted.

With great difficulty, and an exclamation of discomfort, Lorraine turned on her heels to begin her escape. Though she halted upon catching sight of a figure stood before her. She compelled herself to push past the profound ache lingering in her gut, standing up straight to face this mysterious being. Here she came across the second confirmation that this wasn't reality, not that she needed it anymore. You were indescribably beautiful, radiating a sort of divine light like an alluring beacon of possibility.

Most spectres or demons Lorraine met were the opposite. They enveloped the light around them, constructed a dark gap in which there was nothing but pain and regret. They represented everything that couldn't be. A screaming phantom that reminded her to appreciate life.

But you-

You represented all that could've been without any guilt or anguish. You emanated both warm nostalgia and burning desire, the effects of which were palpable for anyone who could tune into the energy, and Lorraine was being strongly subjected to it. Though first and foremost, she had a job to do.

She swallowed, refocused her attention to the task at hand. "Why-" Another wave of dizzying desire washed over her. She tried again. "Why are you-" The world around her was spinning. She blinked rapidly to try stave off vertigo, but stumbled anyway.

A cool reprieve from the searing pleasure caught hold of her. Using the embrace for support she stabilized herself only to come face to face with you.

Despite your overpowering influence on her, you appeared surprisingly human up close. Normal enough to blend in with reality, but sufficiently attractive to be memorable. Still there was something irresistible to your appearance that encouraged Lorraine to sink further into your hold, to move her hands to wrap around the back of your neck. She hadn't felt so loved since early on in her relationship with Ed...

Ed.

She shouldn't be doing this. Her marriage commitment ought to have her fighting against you- but that was practically inconceivable. Besides, how could something morally wrong feel so right? No, this wasn't infidelity. She wasn't exactly sure what it was, but not that. She would never cheat on Ed.

The temptation was intoxicating. Lorraine's hands started to trace patterns along any available skin, savouring the unfamiliar yet exhilarating sensation. You weren't a living breathing person so there was something different about the way you felt that she was eager to investigate. In response to her caress, you brought one hand up to cup her cheek, maintaining intimidating yet intimate eye contact. The touch emitted pure pleasure and Lorraine gasped as she leant into the contact. Time seemed to slow as neither moved, opting to stare at the other in silence instead.

She was vaguely aware that time moved differently in her visions. That the longer she spent in one, the more time had passed upon return. Though currently it was the least of her worries. All she could focus on right now was you and the close proximity that appeared to be narrowing still. Your gaze had dropped to the lower half of her face. Lorraine did the same, her eyes fixating on your lips. However, before you closed the gap she raised a hand, motivated by a new desire. She was shaking slightly, but ignored it to gently brush a finger along your lips. She wanted a taste of the upcoming kiss, and was pleasantly unsurprised. As expected, the touch only reasserted her conviction.

She'd never wanted anything- anyone- as much as she did now.

Suddenly your mouth was upon hers, bringing cooling bliss with it. Lorraine moaned. She felt again a rush of possibilities, the surging tide of everything that could be. The muted uncertainty at the back of her mind blurred into nothingness as she clung onto you. Your mouth was the only solid thing in a swaying world, and she planned on indulging herself in the addictiveness of it. She parted her lips, provoking insatiable tremors along her nerves and another rush of giddiness. She felt young, as if she were experiencing intimacy for the first time again.

Your hands were everywhere, carrying an influx pleasure. She'd never felt anything quite like it. Time became irrelevant, everything except you was meaningless. She was lost to an eternity of bliss, in a realm of endless fulfilment. It was incomprehensible, otherworldly.

And then it was over.

She hadn't noticed she was lightly crying, or trembling so much. Or that she was on the ground. You'd simply disappeared and she'd collapsed. But someone was holding her now, someone else.

"Lorraine!" Ed was crouching before her, gently shaking her out of the dreamlike state and back to consciousness. She'd never loathed him so much for saving her.

"What happened?" He asked, lowering to meet her eyes. "Are you okay?"

She scoffed, her mind trying to comprehend all that'd just happened. She was left reeling from the sudden weight of Ed's touch and separated from him. "I'm fine." Her voice barely breached a whisper.

"Did you see anything?"

Lorraine finally met his eyes, but she couldn't tell him.

"No." She answered. "There's nothing here." She lied.

#lorraine warren x reader #vera farmiga x reader #lorraine warren

399 notes · View notes

lokislastlove · 3 years

Text

Come One, Come All! (Dark!Loki x Reader) p.3

Summary: A girls night out to the fair takes an insidious turn.

Warnings: Noncon/Rape, knife play, oral (m&f), smut, bondage, kidnapping

This is a dark fic! 18+ ONLY! Explicit Adult content. Please READ THE WARNINGS! Do not continue if these matters upset you!

Authors Note: ok last chapter! It’s just smut basically... or my attempt at it. @darkficsyouneveraskedfor did the best she could to clean it up for me. Poor girl.

Chapter 3:

You squeak in surprise as your weight is supported mostly by your ankles, head slipping dangerously close to the knife above you. He laughs as he watches you wiggle on the board, blood rushes to your head quickly.

“Perfect” he says as he removes the knife from near your scalp and cuts the lace bra from your body.

He lets out a low hum, dragging his long fingers over your tits. He pauses a moment to pinch each nipple, twisting harshly and pulling before letting them go. You hiss at the slight pain while he admires your hardening buds.

He draws tantalizing circles around each nipple with the knife as you try to keep still, afraid he might cut you. You can’t fight the goosebumps that rise due to the cold knife on your hot skin.

“Stop” you sob as tears run across your forehead and into your hairline.

“I thought all women enjoyed a little foreplay” he jokes.

“No, I don’t want this, please stop” you try to shake your head but your cheek grazes a knife still implanted in the wall next to you.

“Lies” he says tossing the knife to the ground.

He brings both hands up, tickling along your chest and gives a harsh slap to each breast. He cups them roughly, digging his fingertips in to the tender skin as he squeezes them.

You try not to scream at the overstimulation, you’ve never had someone give them this much attention before. He plays with them until they are so sensitive you pant and push your back into the wooden wheel to try to get away from him.

You bite your tongue to hold in any noise, knowing that is all he wants. He wants you to submit.

“Let’s see what else you have for me to play with” his large soft hands slide down, or up, your stomach to the hem of your shorts.

More tears fall as he slips his digits into your shorts and teases the sensitive skin of your pelvis. One finger slips down your slit, dipping in to find your clit. You flinch as he rubs slow circles over it.

You try not to react, but the adrenaline, the blood flowing to your head, and the shadow of his touch on your chest makes it hard to focus on anything but the way he touches your clit.

He slips one hand out from under your shorts but leaves the other to play with you as he unbutton them. Your head tilts to look at what he’s doing, he can’t possibly get the shorts off in this position.

To your horror, he grips the fabric on each side of the zipper and tears the shorts straight down the middle. You let out a startled scream at the display of pure strength, the fabric tearing along the seam and he pulls each piece away until you feel the cool air along your panties.

“Mm, already wet for me,” he hums in delight seeing your wet undies cling to your lips.

He crooks a single finger and pulls the underwear aside and leans in to lick a firm line along your slit. His tongue is warm and slippery and you tense as you try to fight your growing arousal. He licks long and slow and brings his hands to pull your lips apart, exposing your pussy to him fully.

“Such a pretty little whore,” he smirks before diving in.

He alternates between circling your bud and dipping his tongue into your hole. Each time he changes it makes you twitch and without thinking you arch your back. A moan finally breaks free as he sucks on your clit hard.

“That’s it. Sing for me,” he orders, voice deep with desire.

He feasts on you, getting more wild with each sound you make. It’s as if he wants to push you to your climax as quickly as possible. He pulls your clit into his mouth again and shakes his head side to side and you wail as you push your pelvis against his bewitching tongue.

You tense as you prepare to fall over that pleasurable cliff but you are left wanting when he pulls away suddenly. You sob as the ache of your orgasm fades away and your head snaps up to look at him.

“Wha-?” You mumble.

“You didn’t think I’d let you come before me,” he laughs at the pathetic desperation in your eyes.

You close your eyes, disgusted at yourself for falling for his tricks. Just a few light touches and he has you burning for him.

Your eyes pop open when you hear the gentle zip of his slacks. He slips his hands into his briefs and pulls out his throbbing cock. You watch as he pumps it a few times, precum dripping from the tip as he nears your face.

“Open wide, darling,” he lilts.

You bite your lips and close your eyes again, just to spite him. You aren’t sure you can take all of him, and your head is already pounding.

“Not wise to fight me with those knives so close to that pretty face,” he snickers as he taps his velvety tip against your mouth.

You open your mouth, let’s just get it over with, you think. He slips inside slowly and lets out a long breath. You can’t see his face from this angle but you feel himlooking at you.

He gently places his hand on your neck as he pushes in steadily, and plunges to the back of your throat. You gag as he fills your mouth and you hold back a heave. Your eyes roll back as he blocks your ragged breathes. The lack of oxygen and the pulsing of blood in your head is intense and uncomfortable.

He stays there, deep down your throat for a few seconds, his public hair tickling your chin, as you struggle against your bonds.

With a sigh he pulls back allowing you a choking breath. You cough as you try to recover.

“Would you like me to spin you back upright?” He asks softly and runs his fingers lightly over your lips and down your neck.

“Yes, please,” you beg.

“So polite,” he praises. “But no.”

He cackles as he shoves his cock back into your mouth and fucks your face. You can do nothing but hang there as he pounds the back of your throat, slowing now and again to push further down making you gag around him. He speeds up at every cough or gag.

“You pretend not to like it, but look at this dripping cunt,” he says slapping your pussy and you scream around his dick.

The stimulation of your voice tips him over the edge and he pours his seed in the back of your throat. Gravity makes it difficult to swallow so you cough and spit up his cum as he pulls away.

You’re still coughing and dizzy when he twists the board back into place so you are upright. The pressure in your head takes a moment to subside. You make a show of spitting out as much of his seed as you can, aiming in his direction. He smiles at your attempts and proceeds to remove the remaining daggers from the wall, using the last one to slice away the stray bits of your clothes.

He tosses the knife away and kneels down in front of you and you tense in anticipation. With a smirk, he pops open the cuff on your left ankle, and moves over to release the right, letting your feet drop back to the center so that you can support some weight on your toes. You breathe a sigh of relief as the bite of the metal around your feet relents.

“You know, you make me almost miss performing,” he grins and flashes his sparkling white teeth. “I loved making the crowd hang on my every move. Oh, the way they used to gasp or cheer with just a flick of my wrist. Mmm, maybe I’ll keep you as my assistant.” He hums as he stands in front of you, taking you all in.

“Thanks, but I don’t think I’d make a very good hooker,” you insult.

His eyes flicker at your comment and his smile fades so fast it almost makes you regret your jab.

“Let’s see how long you can keep that fire” he growls deeply, grasping your hips.

His fingers dig into your bones before he drags them down the outside of your thighs. He hooks them under your ass and lifts up your lower half. He pins your legs around his hips as his hardening cock prods at your entrance. His green eyes bore into yours as he finally sinks into you.

He is larger than any other man you have encountered and he relishes in the pain painted clearly across your face. As he brings his pelvis flush to yours, he pauses and hums at the feeling.

“I knew you’d have a tight cunt. Hng. It’s delicious, darling.” He groans as he slides in and out.

“S-stop calling me that,” you grunt.

You shriek when he responds with a jarring smack to your ass. You clench around his cock by accident. He laughs and pounds into you harder between spanks. You can feel him beating against your cervix and you twist your hips as you try to relieve the pressure.

“Please, oh god, it hurts,” you sob as you shake your head.

“You love it,” he hisses.

“No, no. Please!” You scream and pull against the cuffs, trying desperately to put some space between his cock and your cervix and wiggle his hands from your ass.

He digs his nails into your ass cheeks and picks you up and drops you on his dick until you scream in agony and pleasure. The pleasure catches you by surprise but you feel that coil twisting in your stomach no matter how hard you fight it and no matter how much it hurts.

He sees your eyes go wide and you bite your lip when he hits a particularly sensitive spot inside of you and he focuses his attention there.

You gasp when he drops one of your legs, opting to use his fingers on your overstimulated clit. He rubs hard circles until you are crying and pleading him to let it end. A shiver rolls down your spine as you race to your peak, your body tensing and your breathing erratic. Just a little more, anything to push you over that last hurdle.

“Should I let you come this time, darling?” he whispers into your ear.

“Yes. Fuck. Please, please,” you beg frantically, terrified he will deny you again.

You no longer recognize yourself, reduced to a needy pathetic mess. Nothing else matters except for that ache, the desperation to come overloading every other sensation or thought.

His deep chuckle in your ear makes you cringe and your pussy clenches as he speeds up his thrusts.

“Very well, come for me now, darling,” he commands and pinches your clit between two fingers.

You curse and scream as the squeeze tips you over the ledge, your cunt constricting around his length as your body arches into him. He pumps into you as you continue falling, toes curling and shoulders scraping the chipped wood board at your back. You delight in the euphoria and relief that washes over you all at once.

You come down from the longest orgasm of your life, your pussy easing slightly as your vision returns slowly, though your ears still buzz. Through your lashes you see his face, smug and cruel, as his hips stutter announcing his own release.

“Yes. I think I’ll keep you for a while longer.” He breathes into your neck as you feel him pull out of you.

Tags: @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @caffiend-queen

#dark fic #dark loki #dark loki x reader #tom hiddleston #come one come all

275 notes · View notes

shockinglysubmissive · 3 years

Text

One Day Down

WARNINGS: Stripping, Fingering (Reader receiving), Squirting

This is my piece for @missuga Love and Lockdown Collab

WC: 2K

“One day down, 13 more to go. Care to play a game to kill some time?” Your boyfriend asks, looking through your closest of board games. The pandemic had shut everything down, and Kuroo was unable to take the bus back to his apartment, so you two were trapped together for the next two weeks. He doesn’t wait for your response, finding a box and tugging it out of the stack carefully. “How about this one? It will kill at least two hours.” He holds out Monopoly, a smirk spread across his face.

“No way Tetsu! You get way too competitive! We still have nearly two weeks together. We can’t start hating each other already.” Despite your disagreeing words, you start to clear off the coffee table in front of you for the board. He sits down across from you, using a pillow to make the hardwood floor more comfortable.

“Oh. You are so mistaken. It won’t be a normal game of monopoly. Oh no no no Kitten, this will be so much more.” His eyes narrow, sliding a piece of paper over to you. You unfold it and scan over it quickly.

Shoes: $50

Socks or Tights: $50

Sweater or Jacket: $50

Shirt or Top: $100

Pants or Skirt: $100

Dress: $200

Bra: $300

Underwear: $500

“Are… are you serious? Strip monopoly?” You can’t help but giggle as he starts sorting cards. You don’t notice when he slips a stack of cards from his pocket, mixing them into the stack until they are mixed in fully. “If you wanted to see me naked you could have just asked to join me in the shower.” You add.

“ But this will be so much more fun. Seeing you all angry, your pretty tits pushed together with crossed arms because you realize you have to sell your panties and lose the game.” He sets the chance cards on their spot and sets the player pieces out on the board for you to pick.

Your fingers trace the ship, smirking as you pick it up and hand it to him. “Here you can be the ship because you’re going down.” You flash him an innocent smile as he picks up the dog.

“Fine, but you’ll be this one because I’m going to make you my bitch.” He says simply, eyes shining with joking excitement. You distribute the money, rolling your eyes as you start the game.

After a few turns, you had to sell your shirt for money to buy a property, and Kuroo sold his pants to pay for landing on your space. On your next turn, you land on a Chance space. You read it and blush bright red, having drawn one of the cards he had slipped in.

“Money is tight. Give another player a lapdance to steal an item of clothing from them.” Not giving him the chance to tease you for blushing, you move to his side of the table, straddling his lap and give him a half hearted dance. Tugging on the bottom of his shirt, you pull it over his head and put it on yourself. “Thank you for your shirt. Looks like I am fully dressed again.” You take your seat on the other side of the table again. He blinks at you slightly taken aback. “What? I never said that I would make this easy on you.“ You look at him innocently, Adjusting his shirt, which is too big for you.

A growl rumbles in his chest. He knows that you are winning, that doesn't stop him from being competitive. “The game's not over yet. I said I would make you my bitch, and I still intend to do that. I'm just letting you win for the moment because you look so cute when you smile.” Although he is smiling, there is a bit of anger in his words. You have known him for years, and Tetsu can be very competitive. He enjoys being the cunning one who wins. He hates when you are able to beat him without even trying to.

“ Mm.. Ok whatever makes you happy. I’ll let you believe that you will win.” You count your money, and organize the properties that you have collected so far. Unaware of the anger filling your boyfriend, his dick hardens seeing his shirt slide down your shoulder some.

The game continues for many more turns, clothes being sold, but chance cards giving clothes back. In the final few turns, Kuroo buys hotels for his blue properties, and you land on them. One having $50, and your panties left, you had to give up, letting your boyfriend win. Despite getting exactly what he wanted, he didn’t look happy. Your arms are crossed over your chest, a small pout settling on your face wanting him to look at you. Instead he just packs up the game.

“What’s wrong with you? You won! You get to see me naked and you’re still huffing and pouting like a child. What more do you want?” You demand, knowing that this game would end poorly. He glances up at you, his expression is unreadable. He stays silent, still refusing to acknowledge you, a slight scowl on his face. “Kuroo! I knew this game was a bad idea. I’m just going to bed. You can sleep on the couch if you want to keep acting like this.”

“You’ve been teasing me this whole game.” He says simply. You look shocked. Of all the reasons for him to be mad, it was because you teased him. Your boyfriend is known for being a giant tease, and he can’t handle receiving any.

“Hate to break it to you, but you were taunting me way more than I was with you. You get too competitive.” You mumble, grabbing your clothes to get dressed again. “I played the game that you wanted! You always tease me, so I thought I could do the same. Guess I was wrong. I will give you your space.” Houses and hotels are scattered as he drops them to grab your wrist, pulling you to make you sit on your knees so that you can see how his boxers have a large spot of precum soaking through. You swear that you can see him throbbing, even though the fabric.

His grip tightens as he begins to speak. “Biting your lip while thinking, letting your tits bounce when you get excited, slowly sliding off every piece of clothing. Oh and let's not forget the way that your fingertips would absent-mindedly drift to your exposed nipples. You would play it off like you were playing with your hair, but I saw the way your breathing changed.” He leans his face closer to yours, letting his warm breath fan against your ear. “We have 13 days let before we can leave this apartment, and I intend to fuck you so good you can’t walk right until then, understood?” He whispers in your ear. You swallow hard and nod, knowing that he will do just that.

Even when the sex between you both is slow and full of love and passion, he never fails to leave you so fucked out that you lose all ability to think. Seeing the look in his eyes from wanting you so bad, you knew that you were in for a lot of aches tomorrow.

He shoves the remaining game pieces on the floor, setting you on the coffee table. Using the fact that you lost, and were fully undressed to his advantage, he settles himself on his knees between your legs. “Think you can take me, or do you need me to stretch you out?” His voice is gentle as his fingers trace along your already slick folds. Unable to wait for you to answer, he slips his long middle finger into you. A soft moan leaves his lips as you lift your hips to feel his finger deeper. His own need is overshadowed by the desire to make you cum.

“Want more. Please Tetsu. I want you to stretch me out.” Your voice comes out a bit whinier than you hoped, desperate to feel the deep feelings that only he can give you. Taking mercy on you, he slides his ring finger in, curling both until he finds your g-spot. He quickens his ministrations, savoring in the way you react to him. His cock twitches, but he ignores it, too lost in the moans coming from your mouth.

When his thumb starts to circle your clit, you instinctively try to pull away, feeling pressure building in your core. “Ah. No moving.” He presses down just above your pelvic bone, creating more stimulation against your sweet spot. You squirm even more, feeling as if you may explode if the pressure builds any more. “Let go baby. Stop holding back. Relax.” His lips graze down your inner thigh.

At his words, the pressure releases, and you soak his hand with your cum. Your vision blurs and your hands roam to find something to hold on to. Settling for gripping your chest, your hips grind weakly against his hand until you become too sensitive.

He finally removes his hand, fingers dripping with your cum. Popping his fingers in his mouth, he lets out a soft moan. “Fuck I will never get tired of how good you taste.” He leans down and laps at your cum soaked folds. His delicate kitten licks move to your clit and you try to pull away.

“Tetsu… I want you to fuck me. I want you to feel good too.” You tug his hair to pull him up to look at you, eyes begging him to stuff you full. He hesitates for a moment, wanting to continue tasting you, but also wanting to fuck you so hard that neither one of you can think straight anymore. “Baby.” Your voice snaps him out of his thoughts, and he is hovering over you.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you attach your lips to his, opening your mouth just enough that his tongue slips into your mouth. His tongue tastes faintly like your cum, and you can’t help but blush. You slide your hands down his chest, clumsily tugging his boxers down. Pumping his cock to smear the precum, you move to line him up with your entrance.

“My needy girl. Don’t worry. I’m going to make you feel so good. I’m gonna make you cum all over me.” He pushes into you with one fluid snap of his hips. Your walls clamp down around him, already trying to milk him for all the cum he has. “If you aren’t… fuck… if you don’t stop I won’t be able… oh god… to move.” He half begs, trying to keep control as he rocks against you.

“Can’t help it. You just feel so good in me. I want to cum around you already.” Your voice comes out as needy, body already teetering on the edge just from his tip kissing your cervix as he rocks against it. Still sensitive from your first intense orgasm, then his tongue teasing every inch of your pussy, you feel as if you could cum again.

“Not yet baby. Just hold off for a little longer. I want you to cum with me.” He grits his teeth as he builds up to a steady pace. Tears start to well in your eyes as it becomes almost painful to not cum. “It’s okay. Just breathe. It’s going to be okay. A little longer. It will feel so good when you finally cum with me.” He tries to calm your nerves, kissing away the tear that slipped down your cheek.

You cling to his shoulders, mind going numb, and only being able to think about how good his dick is making you feel. “Cum for me. Fuck.” His voice tugs you back to reality just enough to realize you no longer have to hold back. Creaming all over him, you moan his name against his neck, trembling in his arms as he fucks his cum into you.

It takes you both a few moments to come back down from your highs, suddenly aware of the discomfort you feel from the coffee table. “Game night was fun, but can we fuck somewhere more comfortable tomorrow?” You ask softly, giggling softly against his shoulder.

@bummie @izukine @writesmcgee

#kuroo tetsurō #kuroo x reader #kuroo smut #hq #haikyuu #hq smut #haikyuu smut #✨.crystal warnings

204 notes · View notes

sabxism · 3 years

Text

Never Have I Ever

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Word count: 2k

Warnings: none besides Rose and Finn being conspiratorial little shits

Summary: You've always been too nervous to tell Poe how you feel. A night out after the end of the war may change that.

It feels surreal, to put it simply. It’s over. It’s finally over. For years, you’ve known nothing but chaos and panic and uncertainty. But now, you can leave all of it in the past. Palpatine’s gone. The war’s over.

Leaping from your x-wing, you spot Poe across the tarmac. He locks eyes with you, breaking into a huge, beaming grin. You sprint towards him, sporting an equally bright expression. He holds out his arms, and you leap into them. He spins around as you bury your face in his neck, laughing. He sets you down, placing his hands on your upper arms.

“We did it,” he breathes, and you nod in disbelief.

“We did it,” you repeat, still smiling. You’re about to compliment a particular barrel roll he’d pulled off earlier when Finn comes barreling over, wrapping him in a bear hug. You smile, walking away to grab some water and allow Poe some time with his friend.

He watches your retreating form with a faint smile, content with the universe for the first time in years. Finn looks at him with a knowing expression and nudges him with his elbow. Poe snaps his head around, cheeks flushed.

“You should tell her,” he says, and Poe’s eyes widen.

“No way,” he replies, carding a hand through his hair. “What if I fuck everything up?” Finn rolls his eyes.

“Poe, I love you, but you’re the most oblivious man I’ve ever met.” This earns him a shocked expression from the older man, and he laughs. “Trust me. Just tell her.” Poe opens his mouth to object, but loses what he was going to say as Rey walks up and wraps him and Finn in a hug.

You watch as the three embrace, smiling. You’re so proud of Poe your chest could burst. He’d handled that last battle with the grace and strategy you’ve seen in him time and time again. You hear footsteps headed your way and glance up, to find Rose standing next to you.

“Hey,” she says quietly, and you scooch to the left a bit to give her space to sit, patting the bench next to you. “It’s crazy, huh?”

“Yeah,” is all you can manage, but you can tell that she understands the magnitude of emotions contained in your reply. No words could encapsulate the feeling of joy and relief flowing through you.

“I heard Poe did some pretty amazing flying out there.”

You grin, nodding. “He really did. Per the usual, of course.” Smiling, she takes in the look of admiration on your face.

“You like him.” Not a question, just a statement. An observation. You look at her slowly and nod.

“I do,” you say, taking a sip of water from the canteen in your hand.

“He likes you, I think. From what Finn’s told me.” You splutter, choking on your drink.

“What?” you exclaim, face turning red as a tomato as you cough. She laughs loudly, and you shoot her a death glare. “If you’re pulling my leg I swear-”

“I’m not, I promise.”

Narrowing your eyes, you swallow another mouthful of water. “What exactly has Finn told you?”

“He’s caught Poe staring at you too many times to count, that damn idiot never shuts up about you, and once Rey saw him fiddling with his mom’s ring behind his back while talking to you,” she lists, ticking off the instances on her fingers.

“That doesn’t mean he likes me,” you point out, and Rose sighs. Ignoring her, you continue. “He could’ve just been spacing out, we’re friends, so he’s bound to talk about me, and he just has a thing about not being able to sit still. Those are just...normal Poe things.”

“What are?”

You whip your head around, to see him standing right behind you. Of course.

“Nothing,” you reply calmly, glowering at Rose as she tries to contain her laughter. “Just talking about that maneuver you did earlier. Very impressive.” He grins, clapping you on the shoulder.

“Thanks,” he laughs. “Anyways, we’re headed out to celebrate-” he gestures to Finn, Rey, and his squadron. “-would you guys wanna come?”

Rose nods excitedly, and you do the same. “Sounds awesome.”

The music in the bar pounds in your ears. Normally, you hate crowded, public settings like this - they stress you out. However, you decide to make a special exception for tonight. After all, you just saved the fucking galaxy.

Poe, expectedly, makes a beeline for the bar with Jess. They order several rounds of shots and bring the drinks back to the table the rest of you are sitting at. He slides into his spot next to you, his thigh brushing against yours.

“Ok,” he says loudly, so your group can hear him over the clamor of the establishment. “Never have I ever - pretty simple,” he adds when Rey shoots him a look of confusion. “We’ll go around the table. Someone will say something. If you’ve done what they say, you take a shot. Snap, you go first.”

“Ok, uh, never have I ever gone on a supply run hungover,” he replies, grinning. Poe groans, taking a shot. You gasp as Finn does, too.

“No!” you say, aghast.

“It was one time!” he shouts in defense of himself, and Rey chuckles.

“He threw up within the hour,” Rose says, and you snicker. Finn kicks the mechanic under the table.

“Alright, settle down,” Jess says, clearing her throat. She shoots a pointed glance at Karé. “Never have I ever flirted with a superior officer to get a different assignment.” The woman sighs, pouring liquor into her mouth. Blushing, you do the same. Poe gapes at you.

“You’re kidding me.”

“It wasn’t here,” you admit. “Navy stuff.” Snap laughs as he recalls the event you’re talking about. “I was about to get assigned janitorial duty for the seventh week in a row, so I insinuated some very...” you pause, grinning. “inappropriate things to my commander. He put me on guard duty on the bridge instead.”

A strange feeling flares in Poe’s chest as you and the others laugh about how flustered the officer had gotten, and his knuckles turn white as he clenches the table. You discreetly nudge his leg with your knee.

“You okay?” you ask quietly, and any jealousy he’s feeling melts away as he takes in the concern in your eyes.

“Yeah,” he nods. You smile.

“Cool.”

“Okay, okay,” Karé laughs, shooting a death glare at Jess. “Rose. Your turn.” She smiles conspiratorily at Finn, who nods at her, before glancing at you briefly. You send a befuddled look towards Rey, who simply shakes her head, shrugging.

You have a bad feeling about this.

“Never have I ever…” she trails off, scratching her chin animatedly. “Had a crush on a close friend.”

Your stomach drops. Rose giggles as she feels you tense up beside her.

“Fuck you,” you say, throwing back a shot. A barrage of gasps sounds from your friends. “Oh, grow up,” you laugh, and Finn chuckles. You glare at him, and he raises his hands in surrender. Slowly, Poe leans forward, grabs a shot, and knocks it back. You barely constrain your shock.

“Oh my gods WHO?” Karé squeals, clapping her hands together.

“That’s not part of the game,” Poe quips, offering her a smug expression. She turns hopefully to you, and you laugh.

“No way,” you say, shaking your head. She sticks her bottom lip out in a pout, before letting her mouth fall open.

“Is it someone here?” she asks breathlessly. You clear your throat, face heating.

“I’m gonna go get some fresh air,” you murmur, slipping out of the booth. Karé and Jess boo loudly at your excuse, but you just flip them off as you head outside.

A light breeze tangles its fingers in your hair and tugs at your shirt, small ripples moving along the fabric. You take a seat on a nearby bench, bringing your legs up and crossing them over each other. Fiddling with a loose thread on your sleeve, you glance upwards. The sky above is littered with small pinpricks of light, twinkling back at you.

A creaking noise sounds to your right, and you look back, to see the door to the bar open. You watch as Poe walks through it, puffing his top lip out and shoving his hands in his pockets. He glances in your direction. You offer him a small wave, which he returns, making his way over to where you sit.

“May I?” he asks, and you nod, turning your gaze upwards once more. He does the same, laying an arm across the back of the bench.

“I wonder how many of those we’ve flown by,” he wonders aloud, motioning to the countless stars and planets above you.

“Probably lots. We really went all over, huh?” He smiles, nodding. You stand, walking to the gate in front of the bar and leaning on it. Poe follows suit, bracing his forearms behind him as he leans back.

“Look, it’s stupid of me to ask, and you don’t have to answer, but...who was it?” You turn your head toward him, puzzled. He nods to the bar. “The game. That last question.” You scoot closer to him, leaning your head on his shoulder. The familiar gesture makes him smile.

“Eh, you don’t wanna know,” you say, and he chuckles.

“Oh, but I do.” You laugh. There’s a moment of silence (not uncomfortable - it never is with Poe) as you figure out how to word your next statement.

“It’s a bit complicated,” you admit, and he turns his head to look down at you.

“Oh?”

“I really like this person, but I also love how close I am with them right now. I’m worried that if they know, that…” you trail off, worried that voicing your concerns will bring them to fruition.

“That everything will change,” Poe finishes quietly. You swallow nervously. “That you could lose them, and you don’t know-” he takes a deep breath “-you don’t know what you would do if that happened.” You turn to face him as he leans up to stand straight, heart pounding in your chest so loud you swear he can hear it. His eyes flit down to your lips momentarily, and your breath hitches.

“Poe,” you say, barely above a whisper. His eyes lock onto yours, and you bite the inside of your cheek.

You open your mouth to continue, but your words die in your throat as he takes your face in his hands. Your whole body goes rigid, and he notices, starting to pull away. Panicking, you place your hands over his, silently reassuring him that it’s ok. He smiles softly, and your cheeks warm.

“Can I kiss you?” he murmurs, and you nod, heart racing. He brings his mouth down to yours tentatively, nose brushing against yours. You smile against his lips, bringing a hand up and burying it in his curls. He fits his hands to your waist, thumb gently brushing over your side. His lips taste like the tequila you’d both taken shots of in the bar, and it’s sweet on your tongue, reminding you of the nectar from the sapflowers back home on Naboo.

The two of you break apart, hot breaths mingling in the small space between you.

“You have no idea,” he murmurs, smile as bright as a thousand suns, “how long I’ve wanted to do that.” His grin widens as you grow flustered, mouth twisting into a small smile.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you say, eyebrows furrowing together. “I didn’t want to mess everything up, and there just wasn’t a good-”

“Hey,” he says gently, taking your hand. “It’s ok, you have nothing to be sorry for.” You smile.

“I really like you,” you say, and he laughs warmly, bringing a hand to your cheek.

“I really like you, too,” he responds, and you lean into the touch. “We should probably head back in, or they’re gonna think we abandoned ship.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you say.

Nobody says anything if they notice how you and Poe hold hands for the rest of the night, sitting closer than you usually do, talking only to each other.

It seems natural, if anything. Like it’s always been that way. Like it’s how it should be.

taglists (open):

permanent: @staarshines

#poe dameron #poe dameron fic #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron / reader #poe dameron fluff #poe dameron angst #star wars #star wars fic #star wars fluff #star wars angst #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron x you #poe dameron / you #fluff

276 notes · View notes

windows98whore · 3 years

Text

Welcome home

An: You’re tired and stressed from a shite day at work. Your husband is more than happy to release that tension for you. Just a short Drabble to cope with a bad day.

Warnings: Vaginal sex, comfort after a bad day. Cumming inside?

Word Count:

Characters: Katsuki Bakugo

All characters are aged up. Divider credits are at the bottom of the post.

Just imagine coming home, dog ass tired. It’s cold out, and you bundled up for the bus ride to and from work, then the grocery store. You drop the bag of groceries you’d forced yourself to get for dinner and kick off your shoes at the door before you start peeling off a fleece and a big coat to hang on the hooks by the door. Your hat and scarf come next, and you shake out your curls, rubbing a hand down your neck. Despite the cold, the way your hair had been pressed against your skin had left you damp with sweat. You didn’t bother calling out that you were home, Katsuki was used to you coming home around this hour, and if he wasn’t on a patrol or mission, he was almost always in one spot.

From the doorway you could see Katsuki planted in that familiar recliner in front of the tv, watching the news of course, a cup in his hands. He looks up when you saunter in and plop yourself on top of his spread thighs with a tired sigh. He sets his cup on the end table and scans your back, noting the visible tension in your muscles.

He doesn’t speak. Instead, he runs warmed fingers up and down your arms, helping you shed your blazer, leaving you in a simple button up. He takes his time, unbuttoning each button and pressing warm, soothing kisses down your neck and back, his lips soft against your shoulders.

You catch a glimpse of his silver wedding band glinting in the lamp light and thread the fingers of one of your hands into his. Palm to palm, the only sounds between you for a moment, is the droning on of newscaster on the tv. You enjoy the roughness on his skin, the calloused fingers once used for fighting, ever so gentle and sweet with you, when you need it.

He knew work was stressful. Knew you wanted to quit too, and go into another field or just work anywhere else. He didn’t prod, no use in having you repeat your usual rants about paperwork and bitching supervisors and never getting anything the way they liked it. He rubs a thumb on your palm and presses his lips against your back.

“Let me make you feel good.” He mumbles against your skin. He releases your smaller hand and sets his hands gently on your hips to lift you off of his lap. The two of you walk slowly, to the bedroom, and not long after you flop down onto your plush bed with a huff, Katsuki’s body follows right behind, moving to push your pencil skirt and panties down your hips in one easy sweep, until the expensive fabric gathers around your ankles. You kick them off, not caring where they end up right now.

Katsuki resumes his lazy kisses, alternating between kitten licks and gentle suckles. He expertly undoes the clasp of your bra and takes both breasts into his hands to massage at the supple skin with a soft groan.

“Beautiful.” He murmurs against your neck. He relishes the way your back arches and the sighs that tumble from your supple lips as he rolls your pert nipples between his fingers. He pinches ever so slightly, smirking when you gasp. Katsuki releases your right breast and flips you over to trail a hand down your stomach, rough fingers ghosting over your belly to your thighs.

He pulls you in by your hip, and ruts into your shapely ass, groaning at the way your ass feels against his hardening cock. He wants to give it to you, fuck you until you’re relaxed and cuddly and sleepy, but he takes his time. This is about your pleasure and he wants you to know that. His fingers dip towards you heat, and he parts your lips to rub a warm finger over your clit.

The pressure sends jolts of pleasure up your spine. You mewl his name quietly, which only spurs him on. “Good girl...” he’s whispering, voice deep from arousal. “Like that? Like how I touch you?” His words just add to your growing pleasure as he thumbs your clit, circling it expertly in just the right way. He runs his fingers down to your entrance, collecting slick between his pointer and middle finger.

As much as he’s aching to be inside you, he’s gentle, slow even, as he slides his dampened fingers inside of you. You part your legs instinctively, mouth open as you groan. He massages your velveteen walls, enjoying the way you roll your hips to try and bury the two fingers further inside of you. He pulls his hand back, twirling your clit with his thumb, before he slides back in enjoying the wet squelch of your juices against his fingers.

“That wet already?” He sucks his teeth, feigning surprise. He knew what he did to you, and just how to get you worked up. “I’ll make you cum, and then I’ll fuck you so good you won’t even remember your day. Deal?” His voice is like liquid pleasure and it shoots straight to your brain. Your clit twitches against his thumb and all you can make out is a quick nod. “Good.” He speeds up his wrist flicks, and changes his angle so that he each time his fingers disappear inside you, the palm of his hand kisses your clit. You’re a mess, moaning and turning into jelly right in front of you. “Why don’t you cum for me sugar. Cream all over my fingers.” He husks, curling said fingers against your g spot and making you see stars. You tumble over the edge into ecstasy, panting and shaking while your husband praises you softly, tells you how he loves how you cum with that pretty pussy of yours, how sexy your o face is, how he can’t wait to bury himself inside and fuck you dumb.

Katsuki always licks his fingers after he’s helped you ride out your orgasm. He sucks each digit into his mouth, staring you directly in the face with that cocky look in his lust darker irises. When he turns your head in his cum and saliva slick fingers, and presses his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, you shudder, able to taste your own cum in his mouth.

The blond normally likes to tease. Likes to have you at your breaking point before he gives in and fucks you so deeply tears spring into your eyes.

But tonight, he doesn’t. He turns you so he can be the big spoon, pushes his orange boxers down just enough to get his erecting free and slides into you, groaning at how your walls are already fluttering around him as he slowly buries himself to the hilt.

“Oh fuck...” you groan, which puts a cocky smirk on his face. Katsuki takes his time. He’s not fucking tonight, he’s making love to you. Making you feel loose and well loved and appreciated. He presses his lips to the shell or your ear to whisper just how tight you feel, and how good it all is, and how no one else gets him this hard and horny but you and your amazing body and mind god he loves how sharp you are. It had been your quick wit that had drawn him in. He rolls his hips, dragging his cock against your walls in a way that makes you twist free hands in the plush sheets beneath you.

Katsuki is a lot of things, but patient isn’t one of them. You’re more than aware of that, though, and when you feel him start to tremble from holding back, you quietly beg him to take you rough and quick, the way he’s dying to. The sounds of damp skin slapping fill the room. You’re moaning and groaning and keening for him, and that just sets him off more. He’s curses up a storm, and pulling you by the hips into him so hard you’re sure you’ll have bruises to match the hickies he’s sucking into the copper skin of your neck.

“Fuck, babe I’m close. Where do you...Shit...where do you want it?” He asks breathlessly, voice raising so you can hear him over your own sounds of pleasure.

“Inside Suki. Cum inside me. Fucking cum inside, please.” You plead between deep suckles of air. Katsuki nods against your neck, mumbling that he’d do anything you ask, anything for you. He slips his hands between your legs and thumbs your clit, quickly sending you into your second orgasm of the night. The way you tighten around him has Katsuki following not long after, hips jerking wildly, only to stop and stutter, as he pumps you full of his cum. He lets out a breathy shudder, sliding his slowly softening dick in and out of you with a very satisfied groan.

Your head spins. There are goosebumps and bruises and hickies dotting your skin now. Katsuki presses his lips to each dark mark in a silent apology as he pulls out with a hiss.

He was right. You don’t remember much of your day anymore. All you can focus on is the familiar ache between your thighs and the way cum slowly drools from inside you, dribbling down your legs.

Katsuki takes care of you, silently. He gets a damp rag from the adjourning bathroom, and delicately wipes you down. Your eyes meet, and he looks like he’s considering something. You tilt your head in a silent question.

“I don’t like telling you what to do.” He hums, looking up at you through foggy eyes. “You should quit. Take some time to just lounge around. I’m sure we can find you a less shit job.” You smile fondly down at him.

“Actually I’m determined to make them regret treating me like shit.” Your determined look makes Katsuki smirk. He pats your thigh, a loving glint in his eyes. “Be the best employee they’ve ever had, so when I quit, they beg me to stay. Make them wish they’d never been rude to me.”

“That’s my fuckin girl.”

Requests are open! Shoot me an ask~

Divders are from @/firefly-graphics

351 notes · View notes

boytouya · 3 years

Note

Can I get a male FTM cow reader who's in a relationship with dabi which he's constantly bullied for his appearance because he's not like a bull and he stays close to dabi nibbling on his shoulder when he's nervous. Or he likes to give out moos when he's very comfortable with his burnt bf at any chance

𝐄𝐚𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐮𝐭

Warnings: Blood, (poorly written) fighting, hinted transphobia/homophobia, bullying

When you collide with sturdy shoulders you automatically expect to hear nasty comments. You grew up hearing them from just about everyone. You were too weak, too ‘fragile,’ and some even made the effort to call you...creative nicknames. Growing up, you didn’t understand the hierarchy behind bulls and cows. It never mattered to you, and you didn’t have many friends because of that. As you got older societal changes pushed all of its weight onto you, and presenting as a cow crushed your reputation, not to mention being gay and trans. You found yourself being relentlessly bullied. You just couldn’t understand why.

Your boyfriend is a bull, with broad shoulders and scarred skin. His body is littered with piercings (you once laughed at his septum because of the irony) and modifications; when you first met him you assumed he would join along in bullying you. Perhaps that was your fault, falling into your stereotypical place as a meek cow. It was just a reflex, though. Who could blame you?

He found you under the fist of a rather large bull, about triple your size. Normally he minded his business, keeping his sharp gaze straight forward and large hands stuffed into his pockets. He couldn’t when he saw someone so powerful picking on an easy target. It made his blood boil, reminded him of the people he grew up with. You learned his name was Dabi (or at least that’s what he “currently goes by”), and he was just passing through. He claimed to have saved you only because you “looked pathetic,” but his ice blue eyes were checking you over for injuries.

You stayed glued to his side ever since.

Dabi lived in the city, staying in a small apartment sitting upstairs from a bar. His bedroom wall was littered with a few posters, but it was bare, like he was ready to leave at any moment. You only knew this because after a particularly bad fight you had to bite down on his belt and focus on the space on his walls. You didn’t know how Dabi knew how to give stitches, but you never asked. It seemed like a touchy topic.

Walking through the busy streets of the city was always a challenge. It was like no matter where you went there was someone out to get you. You knew you were different from others, but you couldn’t understand why it made them so angry.

As of now, you’re pressing your cheek against the sleeve of Dabi’s jacket while you walk back to his apartment. He took you on a date, but it was cut short by a pack of stubborn bulls. Dabi ended up earning a blossoming bruise to his right cheek. Crickets chirp, cars pass by, and passerbys quietly make their way home. The city was always so much prettier at night, and you wondered what everyone was doing with the night. There’s a bull coming your way, who smells of something familiar. You can’t quite place it, but it makes you uncomfortable. Your eyes flicker over to Dabi, who’s nursing a freshly lit cigarette between his lips.

“Things never go according to plan, huh?” He says to himself, his voice slightly altered by the stick in his mouth.

You tug at his sleeve, folding the fabric between your fingers, “Dabi?” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but it’s all you can muster out. It was an anxious tic, nibbling on your clothes or pulling at its loose seams. When Dabi noticed it he volunteered to “help with your weird fetish,” as he called it. You just had to make sure he was really okay with it.

Dabi doesn’t respond verbally at first, instead jutting out his arm to offer his sleeve to you. You nibble happily, letting out small moos of appreciation. God, you’re so cute. Dabi silently curses himself for not pulling out his phone to record. There’s a smirk tugging at his lips as you lean against him, and he can’t wait to get home. “Letting your worry get ahead of you, casanova?”

You nod along absentmindedly, but pausing to actually look at your boyfriend. He looks focused on something else, his nostrils flaring as his face scrunches up. He pushes you behind him with the same arm, and you can see his feet stutter as he kicks them against the ground. He's clearly agitated.

Watching bulls fight is never pretty. It’s always messy and reckless, there are always concerning sounds coming from their bodies and aggression that could send you into hysterics. You hated it, and yet you had to see it every day. Sometimes you wondered how Dabi was even alive.

It happens so fast, starting with one landing bone cracking punches into the other’s stomach and ending with budding heads until they both get nosebleeds. Luckily Dabi gets the first offense, and the smell of blood quickly thickens the air.

It was one of the bulls that interrupted your date, and you remember hearing him threaten to come back with more of his friends. His friends.

It’s almost like you’re invisible, as you punch and claw at the new pairs of arms that hold Dabi back and pin him down. There’s one, two, three punches to his stomach and ribs, but he doesn’t seem to audibly react. You can tell he’s seething, as his teeth are grit. Your breathing is shallow and rushed (damn, you really should’ve taken a break from your binder like Dabi said earlier), there’s sweat beading at your forehead and your heart is in your throat as you swing uncoordinated punches and throw yourself between the unfair fight. Dabi has helped you so much, it’s only fair for you to repay him.

You pack a surprisingly powerful punch, the forced adrenaline coursing through your veins as sirens wail in the far distance. Dabi’s weight drops on you briefly, but it quickly vanishes as he turns away from you and almost starts after them, the cigarette he had just a second ago crushed in his hand. He must’ve burned one of them. You pull him back, hot on your heels as the sirens steadily grow louder.

“Pretty weak.” You can't tell if he’s talking about himself or you, but you don’t have time to unpack it. Gripping your boyfriend’s bloodied hand, you hurry back to his apartment.

“Don’t make that face,” Dabi says, pressing a bag of frozen peas against his ribs. You hate seeing his healthy skin damaged, he only has so much of it. You just finished treating his busted lip. “I’m sure we’ll still have time to talk, and they probably have more bruises than me.”

Dabi readjusts his seat on his bed, pressing his back into the headboard. He pulls you over by the waistline of your pants and offers the end of his shirt. One of his eyes may be swollen but he can still see your nervousness.

He pinches your ear, steering clear of the bruising on your face. There’s a slow sigh flowing from his mouth, and he looks like he’s holding back some sort of emotional monologue. Instead he clicks his tongue, dimples forming on his cheeks as his staples pull at his flexing skin. He pulls you into his side, the coldness of the frozen bag making contact with your skin. Dabi uses his free hand to run his hand along your forearm, feeling out the goosebumps. His shoulders shake as you quietly moo with relief.

“You must throw a mean one.”

#💕.dabi #dabi x male reader #anime x male reader #anime x reader #mha x trans reader #mha x male reader #mha x you #lov x you #touya todoroki x y/n #bnha x trans reader #bnha x male reader #x male reader #x male oc

257 notes · View notes

missymurphy1985 · 3 years

Text

The Massage (Cillian Murphy One Shot)

Request? Yep!

Warning - SMUT!!!

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen @cilleveryone

"He was such an asshole!! Barking orders at me like I'm his fucking SLAVE!!" You cried, flopping onto Cillian's sofa dramatically. He came through from the kitchen with a bottle of wine and two glasses, pouring you a glass and sitting next to you on the sofa.

You quickly sunk the first glass without stopping, making Cillian nearly choke on his first sip. You'd left the pub fifteen minutes earlier, already well on your way to incoherent.

"Fucking hell y/n, you'll need carrying home at this rate!"

"I don't care. This week can go to hell! First I end up on the WORST blind date of my life, no thanks to YOU and your god awful taste in men - "

"Hey now, first off I don't have a 'taste in men', and secondly I thought you'd be a good match!"

"He had to be escorted out of the restaurant after threatening to have the waiter beaten up for overcooking his steak, Cillian."

"Yeah... Okay fair comment and my bad..."

"I'm staying single FOREVER. Then my new boss decides that I like doing the work of THREE people, including him, and working through my lunch breaks, just so he can reap the credit for the whole fucking thing!! My feet are agony!!"

"I told you to come work for me, didn't I? I need someone to manage my appointments and affairs, you'd be perfect at it!"

"I don't mix business with friendship Cillian, you know that." Another glass of wine, very quickly taking a gulp from it. The alcohol hitting your empty stomach and the drunk feeling it came with feeling utterly blissful after the hellish week you'd had.

Without speaking, he lifted your feet onto his legs and took your heels off, resting his hands on your ankles.

"All done now - time to relax, although you seem pretty relaxed right now!" He squeezed your ankles gently, emitting a groan from you.

"Fuck... Do that again, please?" You asked, as he raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"I've been on my feet for hours running round after that stuck up prick..." You wiggled your aching feet in his lap and he chuckled, taking your left foot in his hands and massaging it softly, easing the tension in you instantly.

Your right foot rested on his thigh as he worked magic on your heel and toes of the left one. You moved to lie against the arm of the sofa, relaxing into the large cushions with your refilled wine in one hand. The other resting on your stomach.

"That... Feels... Amazing...." You sighed as he got to work a little harder on the balls of your feet.

"You leaving any of that wine for me or shall I grab another bottle?" He laughed, glancing at the near empty bottle on the coffee table.

"Don't even think about moving Cill," you glared. Closing your eyes again, you couldn't help but let out a deep groan as his hands massaged you perfectly. You didn't notice him clearing his throat and shifting his body underneath your left leg.

"Feels so good... Don't stop..." You couldn't hear his breathing becoming shallow. Your eyes closed, you didn't see him biting his lip and looking up to the ceiling trying to distract himself. You suddenly switched your feet, your right one coming up to meet his hands and tried to bring your left one down to his lap but he held them both in place, trying to massage them both at the same time.

"Cill, one at a time is so much better.." you rolled your eyes watching him try and massage both and stifled a giggle when he dropped your left foot into his lap.

"Ah... Fuck..." He gasped, jumping slightly. You gasped too when you realised what your left foot had landed on.

"Cillian?" Your eyes widened as he moved your feet and oulled a cushion over his lap, holding his eyes closed with his fingers.

"Fuck sake... I'm sorry okay, it's just.. it's been a while and you were making those noises and... Fucking hell..." You bit your lip as you considered your options.

Yes, he was your best friend.

Yes, you'd been his best friend since his early days in theatre.

Yes, he was impossibly attractive.

Yes, you wanted to fuck him.

Deal done.

You moved quickly, pushing the cushion off his lap and kneeling next to him, your face inches away from his and your eyes locked together.

"I can help you with that, if you like?" You smiled, running a hand over the significant bulge in his trousers. He pulled your hand away.

"I don't think that's a good idea, do you?"

"Why not?"

"You're drunk, for a start!"

"Come on Cillian, it's just a friend helping a friend in need, yeah? And you're clearly in need..." You returned your hand to his erection and squeezed it through the fabric making him hiss.

"Friends aren't supposed to..."

"Aren't supposed to, what?" Your lips at his ear as you pulled the button and zip down on his trousers, his hips as you pulled them down to just above his bent knees.

"Turn each other on..."

"Well you've been turning me on for years Cillian." Grasping his thick cock in your hand, squeezing the tip and the base gently, he groaned, closing his eyes and giving in to the feeling of your hand wrapped around him. His right arm hung over your shoulders, his left hand on top of your on his hardness, guiding you to what he needed.

"So you like it being squeezed, do you?" You whispered. He nodded, his eyes watching your hand move on its own now, his mouth open, breathing heavily.

It wasn't long before his orgasm built - your hand clamped around him sending him soaring to the edge. You pumped your hand quicker, squeezed tighter.

"That's it... Fuck that's exactly it... Holy shit y/n...." His words coming out in gasps, his hips thrusting up into your hand as he gripped your hair, pulling your head back and latching onto your lips with his own. You pulled away.

"Don't hide those moans from me, I wanna hear them all..." You smiled, pumping him harder and faster, milking him as he groaned, and the first few spurts left his cock, his body jerking as he came over his stomach and your hand.

You slowed your movements as he came down from his high, his head resting back on the sofa. You felt a sudden gurgle in the pit of your stomach, and before he had time to react you ran to the bathroom - the alcoholic contents of the evenings beverages violently leaving your body into Cillian's downstairs toilet.

************************************************************

You woke the next morning in his spare room - your head was pounding. You made a silent vow, promising to all that was holy that you would never touch another cocktail, glass of wine, or spirit ever again. The night before was hazy - you remembered stumbling into Cillian's Dublin townhouse with a bottle of wine... And that was it.

The smell of bacon downstairs lured you, and you slowly edged out of bed, throwing on the dressing gown you always kept at his house and headed downstairs. A coffee, paracetamol and pint of water waited for you on the kitchen table, followed by a bacon sandwich.

"You passed out in the toilet - I cleaned you up as best I could but you were, erm, yeah you were a mess y/n. Showering you wasn't easy." He chuckled, before taking a sip of his coffee and eyeing you weirdly.

"Thanks for this Cill... I'm so sorry about last night..."

"Don't be, it's fine - we can just put it behind us yeah?" He cleared his throat awkwardly and looked to the floor.

"It's not like it's the first time it's happened Cill?"

"Well I certainly don't remember it happening before y/n?"

"You're kidding me, right? It happened three weeks ago!"

"I think I'd remember my best friend giving me a handjob three weeks ago y/n?"

Your eyes widened - what the fuck did he just say? He caught your expression and his mouth dropped.

"Fuck... You don't remember do you..." He asked. You scrunched your eyes closed, trying to think back to the night before... The memory was cloudy... But...

"Oh my god.... Oh Cillian... Shit... I'm sorry!!!" You stood up, your hangover however getting the better of you and you quickly sat back down. You could see the cogs turning in Cillian's mind, almost like he was having some kind of internal debate with himself.

"Do you remember what you said to me?"

"Bits of it..." He moved closer, leaning on the table next to you.

"Drunken rambling? Or did you mean it?" You looked up at him, knowing exactly what he was talking about and looking to the floor, your cheeks changing from grey to a deep crimson. He nodded, and lifted you up slowly to stand in front of him.

"I know an incredible hangover cure, if you need one. Just call it one friend helping another... In need. Yeah?" He smirked, his hands on your waist pulling you into the hallway and up the stairs.

"Cillian..."

"Shh... Just trust me..." He opened his bedroom door and walked you over to the bed. Backing you up til your knees hit it, he untied your dressing gown and threw it aside, his eyes admiring your now naked body.

"You put me to bed with no clothes on..."

"I had to wrestle you in the shower washing your fucking hair y/n, I'd lost the will to live at that point," he smiled, pushing you onto the bed and opening your legs.

"Cillian what are you doing?" Your mind was whirring at 100miles per hour.

"I'm about to make you scream my name while my tongue is pressed against your clit, my fingers are going to push you over the edge, and then I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk straight." You mouth hung open at his deadpan statement and before you had time to react his mouth went to work - no build up, no foreplay, straight onto your clit making you cry out from the shock and extreme pleasure coursing through your body.

The man had skills - his tongue rolled your clit around, sucking and occasionally nibbling at it, as he pushed a finger inside you, immediately finding that small bundle of nerves and pressing against it.

"Fuck!! Shit... Cillian there... God don't stop... Please!" You felt him chuckle against your core, his eyes looking up at your arched body through his long eyelashes. You were gripping the bed sheets for dear life, his tongue ripping sensations from you that you'd never experienced before.

His mouth never left your core once, you found yourself writhing against him like a woman possessed.

"You taste incredible... You gonna cum for me, riding my face like that?" He returned to his work, eating at you like you were his last meal.

"Cillian... Fuck I'm coming... Oh god yes..." Your back arched again as you came over his tongue, his fingers fucking your g spot hard and fast, prolonging your pleasure as much as possible. His fingers removed briefly as he pulled his clothes off, you heard a drawer slide open, and a foil packet being ripped. Before you had time to refocus, you felt him enter you, your legs being lifted up to your sides as he rested his body on top of yours, starting a slow rhythm thrusting into you.

"So fucking tight y/n... So fucking good...." Your legs wrapped around his waist as he eased in and out, his forehead resting on top of yours as your eyes locked together. You could lose yourself in those eyes. Reaching up to cup his cheeks, you leaned forward and captured his lips in yours. Your lips molding together, he slipped his tongue into your mouth, both of your groaning against each other as his thrusts picked up in speed and force.

"Rail me into this bed, Cillian...." You groaned. He raised his body off you and lifted your hips, his knees underneath them giving you leverage. Your legs raised in the air, held in place by his arms as he pounded into you, the angle catching your still sensitive spot deep inside with expert precision.

"Y/n... I need you to cum..." He panted, your hand quickly moving to your clit where you massaged it hard, desperate for another release.

His facial expressions as he fucked you were perfection - the way his eyes scrunched closed... The silent O of his mouth hanging open, the breathy pants and moans coming from him... You came hard and quickly over him, your legs shaking from the new force he fucked you with.

"Gonna cum... Fuck... fuck... fuck..." Three hard thrusts into you and he shot his load into the condom, releasing your legs and falling onto you, both of you panting from the exertion.

He pulled out slowly, discarding the condom, and pulled you under the duvet with him, holding you close under his arm. You wrapped your body as close as you could to his, your legs tangled together.

"Explain something to me y/n..." He asked, kissing the top of your head.

"Mhmm..." You sighed, snuggled into his chest as you eyelids grew heavier.

"Why's it taken us so long to do this, huh?"

"I have no idea... But we ARE doing it again, right?"

"Every day for the rest of our fucking lives baby." He linked his hand in yours as you both drifted off into a deep sleep, both of you knowing this was only the beginning for you both.

#cillian fanfic #cillian smut #cillian x fem!reader #cillian x smut #cillian murphy x smut

142 notes · View notes

sneezefiction · 3 years

Text

answers

oikawa x reader

desc: oikawa changes some lyrics in taylor swift’s song “love story”

a/n: please keep in mind that most of this is just humorous & there’s no serious characterization in this particular story. i laughed a lot while writing it :,,) for @cutiekawa because you gave me the idea; thank you for that! and also for @seroto-rin because this is very similar to your husband’s lyric changing habits lol – i still laugh whenever i think about it <3 warnings: language, mentions drinking/being drunk

wc: 3k

— It’s 2 am when you hear Oikawa pattering down the hallway and past your room. From the gentle footsteps and the occasional whisper of “shit” when the floor creaks, it's obvious that he’s trying to stay quiet.

But his attempts are in vain because, one, you’re wide awake and, two, he’s just knocked over an empty beer can from earlier. It was probably the one he’d left on the hall table – you’d told him to throw it away but he’d refused saying that he’d “throw it away in the morning when his arms weren’t so tired.”

This is just karma.

The clatter of the aluminum on wooden floors echoes throughout the dorm. A much louder, especially frustrated, “fuck” follows right after it.

The word, though crass, sounds deceptively attractive on his tongue. But most things Oikawa-related just happen to be attractive.

You muffle your laughter with a blanket. He’s probably disoriented from the alcohol – it’s only been an hour and 5 drinks each since you both called it a night. You’d headed straight to bed but he’d fallen asleep on the couch where you left him, hair a-mess and lips parted.

But, for someone who used to stay out till daybreak on weekends, he’s spent most Fridays hanging out with you instead.

This weekend was no different.

Oikawa ordered Thai takeout, you found a mindless Netflix series to binge, both of you had a little too much to drink, laughter ensued, the doe-eyed boy found his head in your lap, and…

You pull a face – one that goes unseen because of the dark, but you make it anyway.

Okay, that last part was a little different.

He’d had his head in your lap.

His head… in your… lap.

And, if you’re not mistaken (or delirious), you’d had your hands in his hair, twirling strands and tracing circles at the base of his neck. A foggy image of him gazing up at you with softened eyes, deep chocolate in color, begins to solidify.

That lazy smile, a hand on your thigh, tresses tickling your skin...

You turn over in your bed, bunching up your sheets and holding them close to you like a shield of fabric — a flimsy, make-shift defense against tipsy mind-wandering. It isn’t very effective.

Your brain is not wandering but racing around this hand-in-hair realization.

Like an iron rod poking at hot embers, these prodding memories make your cheeks grow hotter by the millisecond. You bury your face in your pillow, embarrassment tight in your throat.

Somehow you’d forgotten that he’d practically climbed into your lap. You’re not in the clear quite yet, but your brain is functioning well enough that it wishes you’d had a little more to drink – just enough to forget about it entirely. You starfish out on your bed, arms and legs dramatically splayed across the mattress.

Do (hot, charming, charismatic, windswept) flatmates usually get this... cuddly? Is that normal?

Does Iwaizumi wrap his arms around his roomies after a long day and a few bottles? How about Mattsun? Makki…?

Okay, no, none of them really seem like the type to get up close and personal with their roommates without good reason. Well, maybe Makki, but he’d do it to be a pain in the ass – not to charm the living-hell out of someone.

You try to take in a deep breath and wrap your head around what this means for you… but end up inhaling a feather from your pillow instead. As you hack and cough, you try to smother the noise in more cloth material – you really didn’t need him coming into your room, much less leaning over your bed to check on you.

Oikawa is messing with your head.

If you knew any better, you’d have run away screaming the moment he’d asked you to room with him. No one that pretty and charismatic is good news. At least, not when it comes to shared housing.

But, here you are, writhing under the covers and hot like a fever all because he couldn’t keep to himself. Screw him and his charming smile for putting you in this position.

He either knows you’re crushing like he’s the last man on earth or he’s blissfully unaware and way too physically affectionate for his own good.

You don’t dare consider that he likes you back though. Only deer and Olympic athletes made leaps like that. Oikawa had too many admirers… an irritating amount.

The blankets scrunch even tighter between your fists, likely thanking their maker that they don’t have nerve endings.

Every fiber of your being is begging to know if these feelings are reciprocated. You’d hate to live out the rest of this semester knowing the boy down the hall may not like you back. Worse, that he finds out you think he’s hot shit and doesn’t like you back – that would be unrequited love at its finest.

But, with a degree and your mental health on the line, why should you care about such minor, itty bitty, pointless details.

This isn’t that big a deal.

And even if he did like you back? Well, Oikawa isn’t someone you can simply “pin down.” He comes with a distinctive, dramatic personality and a meddling side. Not to mention, he’s already the embodiment of chaos – he’s proven this to be true over the past 4 months he’s lived with you.

There’s a familiar squeak of the shower faucet handle and the hiss of hot water. You jump at the sound.

Maybe he’d forgotten, but your bedroom shares a very thin wall with the bathroom. Though you recall him saying he wanted to take a shower earlier, so you guess that he’s only just remembered.

You pick up your phone, blue light casting a less-than angelic glow on your sleepy face. You pray that TikTok will have some sort of life-changing “I’m in love with my hot, crazy flatmate” advice. Or that it will distract you from your inner turmoil. Either would be appreciated but the latter seems more likely.

Scrolling slowly, you get through about 3 videos before something else catches your attention.

There’s a deep reverberation buzzing through your wall. A gentle hum, much like a shower-concert lullaby.

But the noise is getting louder. And the humming? A lot more lyrical.

You shift into a sitting position, propping yourself up with your hands. With your side sunken into a pillow, you press your ear against the cool drywall. Your ears tune into the sound.

Oikawa, voice confident and free, is… singing.

“...But you were everything to me, I was begging you ‘please don’t go’…”

But he’s not just singing.

“And I said…”

He’s belting Taylor Swift with the enthusiasm of an 11-year-old Swiftie super-fan. Like the world would end if he didn’t put enough passion into this performance. Like the showerhead is his microphone and the surrounding tiles are his adoring audience.

“Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone. I'll be waiting; all that's left to do is run...”

Most people would be pissed if their friend were singing in the shower at 2 am… but you can’t find it in yourself to be anything but enamored.

God, you hate him for doing this right now. Hate that he’s inadvertently endearing you to him. Hate that, no matter what you do, he’s somehow always there.

Pressed up against you on the couch, meeting you for dinner at his favorite restaurant, fussing at each other over a shitty cup of coffee in your even shittier kitchen, calling you when he needs somebody to keep him company at the library…

“You'll be the prince & I'll be the princess…”

And now he’s accidentally serenading you with Taylor’s “Fearless” album. In the shower.

You facepalm, sinking into your hands, exasperated and just so… done.

You sink back down into the bedsheets, wishing your earbuds were nearby to drown out the regrettably adorable performance.

“It's a love story y/n, just say ‘Yes.’”

And your heart drops, panic setting in like the touch down of a whirling tornado. A fire tornado. A fire tornado with frogs and lizards and sharp objects spinning around inside of it.

What… did he just say?

The lyrics… they were muffled. You definitely heard them incorrectly. You… you just need to get your ears checked. Yes, that’s it. That’s all there is to it. You’ll schedule an appointment first thing tomorrow morning.

Because who the fuck sings like that at 2 am in a shared dorm? And who the fuck puts someone else’s name into a song like that? No one? Yes, no one.

Especially not the Oikawa Tooru.

And especially not with your name.

Because that’s just... weird.

The grip on your phone is mighty – thank God for durable glass because any other material would’ve splintered or shattered in your hold.

But what the hell.

“Y/n, save me, I've been feeling so alone,” he sings as though he were Beyoncé’s son.

This time it’s clear as day. Oikawa is definitely still out of it and he’s undoubtedly singing your name.

No, no, no.

“I keep waiting for you but you never come…”

You bolt out of bed, feet hitting the floor at lightning-strike speed.

“Is this in my head? I don't know what to think,”

In one swift movement, you fling the bedroom door open and rush down the hall. You shouldn’t be listening to this.

“He knelt to the ground & pulled out a ring, and said...”

And before you can stop your hand, it’s knocking rapidly on the bathroom door.

There’s a gasp, what you assume to a bar of soap hitting the shower floor, and an abrupt silence that follows.

You’d only wanted to stop him from singing.

However, you hadn’t thought through what you were going to say to him about this whole... lyrical mess. Your face feels like the surface of the sun, burning and flaring and flushing. What are you supposed to do now?

Oikawa speaks up, voice quiet, “Hello?”

Shit.

Maybe if you’re careful you can get yourself out of this. Just act like you didn’t hear anything and bring it up tomorrow when you’re both thinking straight. A thorough and sober discussion would be needed.

You had questions. Questions that needed answers.

Why did he have his head in your lap? Had you said anything to him that you’d regret later? Does he like you? Where should you two place your boundaries if he doesn’t like you back? And why Taylor Swift?

“Y/n, is that you?” He asks, nonchalantly.

Who else would it be?

The handle squeaks and, with that, the water stops. Only the gentle swirl of the drain and the occasional drips and drops from the showerhead are audible.

It’s too late. You’re already there. You’ve knocked and, in doing so, you’ve sealed your fate.

“...Yes,” is your whisper of a reply.

“What’s up? Was I too loud for you?”

You’ve got the entire building on high-alert singing that loudly.

...is what you would say if you weren’t currently imploding. This is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. And nothing you ever want to experience again.

“Um, yeah, sorry.” You look down at your shuffling feet.

The hallway is pitch black, hardly allowing for even a mere shadow. Rushing out of your room, you’d forgotten to turn on even a single light.

You hear him step onto the tile floor and the rustle of a tower from the bathroom closet.

“Wait, can we talk?” He asks as though it weren’t the question of the fucking year. “I mean, preferably after I get out of the bathroom.” There’s a lack of tact to his words.

This isn’t the charming Oikawa you’re used to. This is a blunt… confusingly straightforward Oikawa.

His tone wavers like maybe he’d had a little more to drink than you’d last remembered. Your memory was proving to be disappointingly unreliable tonight.

You swallow thickly, “Sure.”

Because what else can you say?

“Can I stop by your room in a minute?”

You take a deep breath, “Yeah.”

And you patter back to your no-longer very safe haven. Oikawa is about to infiltrate your space… with your permission. And the weapons he’ll bring will either harpoon you or leave you emotionally paralyzed – whether that emotional paralysis is a good or bad thing will be decided in the near future.

Your bed, though soft and blanket-covered, looks far less appealing now. It may as well be a bed of nails because you would rather hide beneath it than sit atop it.

But you sit anyway, letting the mattress dip and the springs twang.

The bathroom door cries as it opens, putting you on edge. Your heart is pounding like a drum at a summer festival – hotter and louder with every beat.

The trod of footsteps tells you he’s approaching and, sure enough, the open door reveals Oikawa.

With only a lamp to brighten the space, he’s more contoured than usual. His hair is wet and heavy against his head, taking on an even darker brown than before. You’ve seen him fresh out of the shower before, but this… is different. Oikawa’s shirt sticks to his chest slightly – he must’ve thrown it on without drying off fully to get to you faster.

He takes a few steps into your room, choosing to lean his back against a wall next to your work desk. Oikawa brings his hands behind his back, pressing his weight into them. Brown eyes flicker from you to the wall behind you and back again.

Naturally, tension lays thick as a fog in the air space.

“Hey, I’m…”

You cut him off, “You don’t have to say sorry! It’s… it’s okay.”

Oops, you’d said that a little too loud. Not that it mattered much after Oikawa’s passionate performance.

An eyebrow raises and confusion sparks across his face. Your body freezes.

He brings a hand behind his neck. “Oh, I was just gonna say that I’m still kinda drunk.”

You knew that much. Though you really thought he’d say something other than that. Preferably something about the, uh, devoted love-song?

Why is he acting so casual right now? Is this even Tooru? Had he read too many alien conspiracies and been abducted for learning too much about extraterrestrials?

Maybe he doesn’t realize you’d even heard him say your name in the shower.

“Oh... right.” You say slowly, lips staying parted at the end of your sentence.

“Which… probably isn’t good for either of us,” Different words drawl out and there’s a soft slur to some syllables, but at least he’s easy to understand, “me drinking too much, I mean.”

“Yeah,” you mutter.

“I think we should both just go to bed then.”

Your chest tightens. Of course, you want answers.

They’re likely embarrassing, face-reddening, Taylor Swift-centric answers. But you want them, nonetheless.

Although, it’s probably for the best that you don’t bring this up tonight. It was all probably a joke or a harmless accident – and, anyway, he admitted to being drunk.

“Right.”

“But I think you should know that I like you. A lot.”

“Yeah,” you respond again, automatically.

There’s another heavy silence. The pretty boy just stares at you, cherry colors tinting his cheeks but showing no expression of fear or embarrassment. You stare back, processing his words at turtle-like speeds.

The words tumble out, “Wait, say that again?” You double back, your own face reheating to its earlier temperature.

“I’m gonna be mad at myself in the morning if I don’t leave right now. And I really need to stop listening to that stupid song,” Oikawa says to himself.

“But I wanted to see how you would respond if I changed the lyrics,” the words are pointed back at you again.

He stands up, feet moving slowly toward the doorway. Did he just… completely ignore your question?

Your jaw drops, “Did…” you can hardly speak.

Clearing your throat, you try again, focusing intently on your words, “...did you mean for me to hear you?”

“...Maybe.” He draws out the “e,” looking back at you.

That’s it. He’s lost his fucking mind. You’re going to strangle him.

No TikTok advice could have prepared you for the monstrosity that is Oikawa Tooru. How Iwaizumi put up with that... that child for all these years, you have no idea.

You have to make a note of sending him a “get well” card, because nobody could be mentally okay after dealing with him for that long.

“B- but… why? What?” You stammer out, back stiff as a board.

“You like me don’t you?” He tilts his head, hair flopping cutely with it.

You gape like a fish, mouth opening and closing.

And it’s not that you don’t want to respond.

It’s that you can’t. You have no words. You vocal chords are on a panic-induced lockdown.

Because he knew.

He knew this entire time. Which you thought he might, but that doesn’t make the situation any less infuriating.

“And I like you back.”

You’re dumbfounded. You can’t think. This is ridiculous.

You open your mouth once more but he has no intention of continuing this conversation.

“Sleep well!” Without further comment, Oikawa flashes you a sleepy smile and begins scampering back to his room after having wreaked havoc on your poor heart.

Your voice comes back just in time for you to wake up the entire building once more,

“No, you get your ass back here and explain yourself!”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa #oikawa x reader #oikawa scenarios #oikawa imagines #seijoh #what did i just write #this is gonna go under: 'things i gave up my sleep for'#ughsjdljlds'ldsdjd #also #i dont like the term crack fic anymore? so i think just calling it humorous is... a good way to go #goodnight yall #queued up!

258 notes · View notes