#little moment they can trace back and see it’s always been there
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The blue (JJ Maybank x Reader)
Series summary: JJ has a secret, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold onto it. He discovers his breaking point when his best friend starts to show interest in you, his step sister, who he’s already fallen hard for
Series tags: step brother!jj, dual pov, jealousy, one sided john b x reader, drinking, inappropriate relationship, public sex, oral sex (f receiving)
A/N: first series I’ve finished and I could not be more excited to share! please read the tags and if the subject matter is uncomfortable to you, you do not have to read. this one is a wild ride guys, I can’t wait for you to see what I have in store 🫶
Series masterlist + OBX masterlist
JJ didn’t really understand how this happened, but it did. When he tried to trace it all back, there wasn’t really one big moment. Just a bunch of small individual moments that amounted to… this. This feeling. This thing that kept him up at night that he couldn’t seem to get rid of.
He’d never been in love before, so it took JJ awhile to realize that’s what he felt for you.
Or maybe it was the denial. The moral part of his brain telling him it wasn’t normal. Your mom was married to his dad, so according to everyone else’s rules that made you his step sister—even if he didn’t think about you in that context anymore.
He used to, when you both were younger, before your mom got arrested. A large part of why JJ was so happy when you came into his life was because his dad eased up on him, finding some semblance of happiness with your mom.
But she wasn’t exactly perfect. To be with his dad, JJ always wondered what was wrong. As it would turn out, she had serious issues, but what they got her for was being a tax cheat. It added up how they could’ve met after that.
It was getting to be around… what, a little over a year since that happened? JJ couldn’t really keep track of the months, and you never liked to talk about it.
As much as JJ loved his father, he knew he wasn’t a good guy, even if he wanted him to be. So it surprised him when his dad still let you stay with them, but you’d been around since you were both about thirteen, so even if his dad didn’t think of himself as responsible for you (or even JJ), he at least cared enough to not throw you to the street.
That was about the same JJ got from him, and recognizing that is what brought you closer to him.
Sure, you’d been sort of close growing up, but not really. You mostly spent time with your mom and your own friends. Then, when everything went down, you lost your mom and your friends followed not long after. He saw the puffiness in your eyes when you’d come home and go to your room for the whole night. No one to hang out with after school and nowhere to go on a Saturday night. They had ditched you, apparently deciding that mocking you was more important than being there for you. It made his stomach hurt to see you in such a state. You didn’t smile for days.
So JJ, being the good step brother that he was, stepped in. He took you under his wing and brought your smile back.
You fit in well with his friends, easily becoming a part of the group. They liked having you around, and JJ felt like he got to know you in a way he hadn’t ever before.
It was selfish, but you made being at home easier. You kept him company when he stayed up too late and made sure to wake him up in the morning so he wouldn’t be late to work whatever odd job he had at the time.
Whenever his dad hit him, which started again not long after your mom was locked up, you were there to take care of him.
You were so sweet with him, eyes full of care and touches gentle as you cleaned his cuts or iced his bruises. It made it hurt less.
After one night, when his dad hit him, leaving a cut from one of his rings on JJ’s face, you came to his aid as you frequently did. His dad stormed out, so it was just the two of you as you cleaned his face. You had him sit on the couch and stood over him, one hand holding his face while the other held a cloth to make sure the cut was clean.
As JJ stared up at you, your frustrated words about his father falling on deaf ears, one jarring thought crossed his mind.
You should kiss her.
He’d immediately stood up, snapping himself out of whatever daze he was in, and went to his room. You’d tried to talk to him, but he brushed you off and said he was tired. When he asked to be left alone, which was rare, you did.
He didn’t sleep most of the night, staring up at his ceiling wondering where that thought had even come from. He’d never had it before, but from that moment on, JJ started to become much more aware of everything you did—everything you did for him.
Of course his friends loved him and cared about him, and he did the same for them, but with you, something about it just felt different. You were by his side nearly every moment of the day. You saw things they didn’t, and you were there when they couldn’t be.
You became everything to JJ. There was no other way to put it.
That was a couple months ago, and since then, his realization had morphed into something far more.
JJ was deeply, madly in love with you, which was not something a guy should be with his step sister, but he was. He didn’t really deal with it, just shoved it down and tried to ignore it. It was hard, especially when he was around you every single day, but JJ had done his best.
JJ would catch himself staring at you more than he’d admit, but no one seemed to notice. No one would suspect what he was thinking anyway. He made excuses to touch you, like a hand on your back when moving past you to get something or draping his arm over your shoulder and leaning on you jokingly. The latter made you laugh, and he’d join you, but he’d still feel a loss when you playfully nudged him away and told him you weren’t an armrest.
Sometimes, when he didn’t care how pathetic it was, he’d let himself drink too much, just so he could lean on you when you’d help him inside. When he pulled that stunt, sometimes he’d get lucky and you’d even stay by his side to make sure he went to sleep comfortably. And of course, whenever his dad struck, fists full of misplaced rage, you were there, easing the pain.
JJ resolved to take what he could get, and eventually he’d move on.
At least, he hoped that’s how it would go. Maybe he’d get lucky and—
“Hello?” You waved a hand in front of JJ’s face. “I’m talking to you.”
JJ blinked. He looked at you, zoning back in. In an instant, he remembered what was going on. You and him, along with his three best friends, were all on the beach. The others were in the water, while you had been sunbathing on shore and JJ… well, he’d just been sitting by you, wanting to be in your proximity (and sometimes steal glances when he couldn’t help himself).
But now you were on your feet, leaning down as you dropped your hand. JJ’s eyes fell from your face to your chest, and he swallowed when he caught a glimpse down your bikini top.
His eyes flicked back to your face. Was that too obvious? He hoped not.
“Sorry, what?”
You gave him a confused look, but laughed and straightened up.
“Do you wanna get in?”
He knew you meant the water, and in the distance he saw his friends waving for the two of you to join them.
JJ shook his head, and the action felt as if it were in slow motion. Kind of like when he was high, but much less carefree.
“Um, maybe in a bit.”
If he got too distracted he’d probably drown in the ocean—if the guilt of keeping his secret from you didn’t do it first.
You shrugged, not able to read him the way you usually could.
“If you’re scared, there might be some floaties somewhere,” you teased as you turned your back, heading for the water.
JJ couldn’t formulate a comeback, too focused on the swing on your hips as you walked away from him.
He squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed again, questioning his own self what was wrong with him. He’s never experienced such a desperate feeling before. What were you doing to him?
When he opened his eyes, you were in the water, and he had no answers.
He tried to focus on the sand, the water, the sky—anything but you. He even tried to look at Kiara just to see if it would work, but his eyes always drifted back to you, the ache in his chest growing with each passing minute.
JJ didn’t think much of it when he saw Kiara suddenly haul herself up onto Pope’s shoulders, but he felt like he got kicked in the stomach when you climbed onto John B’s.
John B’s arms locked around your legs, the two of you laughing loudly as you steadied yourself. JJ could hear it from shore—you weren’t that far out. JJ knew he was focusing far more than necessary because he saw the way your hands brushed John B’s hair out of his face as he tilted his head back to look up at you.
Even from where he was, JJ could see how you smiled down at John B. It was innocent and friendly, and it made him incredibly jealous.
You and Kiara started to go at it, trying to knock the other into the water.
JJ didn’t think anyone noticed when he stood and walked down to the edge of the sand.
“You’re going down!” Kiara shouted, her hands interlocked with and pushing against yours as you both refused to budge.
You laughed loudly. It was like music.
It took one exchanged look from you and John B to formulate a plan. It was the kind of silent communication that JJ thought you reserved for him.
You let Kiara lean a lot of weight on you, and that’s where your advantage was. In an instant, you relaxed your grip and John B stepped to the side. The other girl, and Pope beneath her, wobbled. It was over in a second. The two shouted right before they crashed down into the water.
“Ha!” you exclaimed, raising your hands in the air while John B whooped and hollered in celebration.
Kiara and Pope emerged, both rolling their eyes. It was their turn to share a look, and as JJ waded into the water, he figured out their plan.
With the two of them jumping at John B, it was easy to knock him off his feet. JJ’s eyes went a little wide when you fell into the water with a crash.
“Did you see that?” Kiara yelled with a grin when she spotted JJ.
“Kinda hard to miss,” he responded, looking around the water. It had been a few seconds and you had yet to reappear.
“They’re just messing with us,” Pope commented on your and John B’s absence, but his words started to sound less sure by the end.
Another long beat of silence passed. The waves grew still.
“This isn’t funny anymore!” Kie shouted.
JJ felt a twinge of panic, awful scenarios flashing through his head. It didn’t matter how unlikely they were.
Suddenly, water erupted. John B arose with a splash, with you clinging to his back. He roared dramatically while shoving water towards Kie and Pope. They screamed as the waves hit them, trying and failing to shield themselves.
“Revenge!” you yelled in a maniacal manner, chin on John B’s shoulder.
“Truce! Truce!” Kie and Pope both yelled, spitting out saltwater.
John B paused, and JJ noticed how close his face was to yours when he turned his head.
“Should we forgive them?” John B deferred to you.
You hummed thoughtfully. “I think they learned their lesson,” you decided. Your gaze, which had been focused on John B, shifted past him. “Hey, look who made it!”
JJ realized you were talking to him. He forced a smile, smothering the jealousy he felt at seeing you and John B in the position you were in. It seemed weirdly close for you two. You and John B weren’t usually touchy-feely-piggyback-ride friends.
John B seemed to pick up on JJ’s shift in demeanor, because his smile was a little more contained as he said, “Hey, man.”
JJ figured his friend didn’t get that he was jealous, which was for the best. Everyone knew JJ was protective over you, and John B probably thought JJ was questioning his intentions as your brother. Why would it be anything else?
“Nice victory,” JJ replied, having nothing better to say. He didn’t even grit his teeth, so he counted that as a win for himself.
Tension eased as you all decided to just chat and relax in the water until the sun set.
Although, JJ kept an eye on John B, noticing how his friend kept an eye on you.
When it got dark and you all began to head back to the shore, JJ found himself at your side. Your steps fell in line with his as you looked up.
“You feeling okay?” you asked lightly. You must’ve sensed his attitude shift, even if it was subtle. “You’ve been quieter than usual.”
JJ couldn’t help the urge to smile at how well you knew him.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he lied, not wanting to concern you. He liked when you worried about him, but this was the one time when he didn’t want you pressing for him to open up. “Are you?”
JJ reached to ruffle your damp hair. You swatted his hand away before he could do any real damage.
“Very funny,” you grumbled. Your expression shifted to a smile, then softened. There was something careful about it. “If something was up, you’d tell me, right?”
JJ swallowed, trying to avoid the way your eyes searched his. He had to look forward before he could answer.
“Yeah, of course,” he assured.
JJ didn’t remember falling asleep on the couch, but he remembered everyone sitting around the living room.
Wait, no. That wasn’t right.
The porch. Everyone has been sitting on the porch, drinking and laughing together. He recalled cramming himself into a chair next to you, playing it off like a joke. Everyone had laughed, and he got to be close to you, so it worked out.
He also remembered following Kiara and Pope inside, expecting you to be behind him.
Everything clicked.
You and John B had elected to stay outside, and JJ had been sitting on the couch, watching through the window, trying to make out what you were saying through the small opening where the window was cracked for the nighttime breeze.
He must’ve dozed off while waiting for you. That didn’t sound like him—he would’ve been focused on watching you, making sure you made it in. Maybe he had been worn out or you stayed up way too late, or both.
JJ blinked a few times. He was just concerned for your safety, like always. Fenced in porches with lights and his best friend keeping you company could be dangerous…
Yeah, he didn’t even buy that.
It was easier back when JJ believed his own lies and self justifications.
Sitting up, JJ peered out the window. It was the early hours of the morning, right around when it was still dark but you could just tell the sun was about to begin rising. His heart sped up when he found you missing from your chair. You weren’t in any of the other chairs in his view, either.
He stood up, feeling more awake than ever, and went right for the door. He didn’t care about waking anyone inside up.
“Jeez, man,” John B said suddenly, sounding surprised as he looked at him. JJ had just barged out onto the porch out of nowhere. “You good?”
JJ took a second to observe his friend. He half-sitting and half-laying back on the couch against the wall, which made sense because he’d been sitting there before. From inside, JJ couldn’t see him, but he didn’t even think about John B’s whereabouts until he stepped out.
Maybe he was a bad friend for that.
He didn’t feel that guilty, though, because he saw where you were; sleeping on John B with your head on his thigh. You were curled up on your side, facing away from his body, and JJ could see how steadily you were breathing.
JJ looked back at his friend, ready to lash out, but the word ‘irrational’ popped up in his mind and resisted. Just from the scene in front of him, it’s not like he had anything to be mad about.
Jealous, maybe, but not mad. But he couldn’t act on that feeling either. If he acted jealous, that would invite too many questions that JJ didn’t have a good answer for.
“Fine just…” He ran a hand through his hair and then shook his head. “You guys good?”
John B furrowed his brows a little, but chuckled.
“Yeah, we’re fine. We were just talking and she started to fall asleep and I just let her. She seemed tired and it wasn’t a big deal so...”
“What were you guys talking about?”
“I don’t know, stuff?”
JJ leaned back in the doorway. “Like what, though?”
John B tilted his head a little, shaking it ever so slightly.
“Just… life and stuff. Does it matter?”
“I guess not,” JJ replied, giving the appropriate answer. He looked down at you, noticing you hadn’t stirred. You looked comfortable, and that was very conflicting. All of this was. It made his head hurt. “Has she been asleep long?”
John B met JJ’s eyes when he looked back up from you.
“You sure you’re okay?” John B asked, sounding almost concerned. Or at least confused. Maybe both.
But the answer was no. No he wasn’t.
“Yeah, man,” JJ answered with a shrug. “She probably won’t wake up if you wanna get up and go get some sleep.”
John B looked down at you, then at JJ.
He slowly started to move, being extra careful with your head, making sure to put a cushion beneath you before standing up straight.
John B gave a light, awkward smile to JJ as he neared him. He brushed past to go through the door, turning to face JJ.
“You coming?”
“Actually, I think I’m gonna sleep out here,” JJ answered, fighting the urge to look at you. He gave a shrug instead and said, “It’s nice out and I can’t get comfortable on the couch anyway. You can have it—plus I think Kie’s in your bed, so…”
“Right…” John B agreed slowly, glancing at you on the couch again. “You know nothing happened, right?” He looked back at JJ. “We were just talking.”
JJ wasn’t expecting something so direct. “It’s cool man, I know,” he found himself replying. “We’re good.”
John B nodded, albeit slowly. He entered the dark house, and JJ shut the door behind him. As a courtesy.
He then turned, spotted the comfiest chair, and resolved to sleep in that for the night. You had stretched out on the couch and looked too peaceful to disturb, even if he did want to take John B’s place from before.
It worked out perfectly, because it gave him a clear view of you as he decided to let himself go back to sleep.
As his eyes closed, he wondered if John B would peek through the window just as he had.
If he did, he’d see the content smile on JJ’s face as he drifted off to sleep. For yet another night, JJ got you all to himself. He didn’t want it any other way. He wasn’t sure what he would do.
#stepbrother!jj maybank#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank#jj maybank x you#step bro!jj maybank#the blue#obx#outer banks#quin-ns writing
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𓆩♡𓆪Headcanon : When They Come Back
✧˚ Ghost, Keegan, Soap, König, Phillip Graves
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥Fluff for you suckers -hope you enjoy the word vomit ;(
Working under constant danger put a strain on them, at moments when it seemed like the world was nothing but shambles and havoc they’d close their eyes and remember what brought them warmth. There was a certain feeling they yearned for and were only satisfied when you were near.
There is something special in knowing someone is waiting for you.
Ghost
This man comes back completely drained; physically, mentally, emotionally…
At first, he was hesitant concerning your worry about him
“If you won’t let me take care of you, who will?”
Might be a little distant at first, it takes time for his mind to come back
No going out, at all
You say comforting phrases to him
“You’re not at war anymore, you can come home”
He’s been through a lot, a warm meal and hugs are all he needs for days afterward :(
It takes some time for him to recharge
When he feels better he lets you know much he appreciates everything you do for him
Takes time to admire you; he silently takes in your facial features
Affectionate gazes that flicker between your eyes and lips
He knows you aren’t obliged to it yet you make an effort for him and that makes him feel like he’s earned a much better reward than money or glory could give him
Keegan
Saying this man missed you is an understatement
It’s like you placed a spell on him the moment he met you
If it were up to him, he wouldn’t want to be a moment away from you
He’ll miss you in silence, won’t send letters or texts or anything knowing it’ll make his heart ache more
But when he walks through the door he falls to kissing you
Bites your lip just for the taste of you on his tongue
His lips leave yours for breaks in between intense kisses to whisper “I love you”
He feels empty without the intimacy and closeness of you
He doesn’t care what you do or don’t say, doesn’t expect anything big either, he just wants to see you with your arms open for him
Soap
No matter how bad it was this time, he always comes back with a smile on his face when you open the door
Even behind that loving smile, you catch the subtle dimness in his eyes
Peppers you with kisses all over your face
Extremely clingy
Needs to be reminded that the world can be kind and gentle
Needs you to dote excessively over him
You give him a shoulder massage as he washes up in the bathtub
Convinces you to join him
Afterward, you crawl into bed with him, cradling his head on your lap
Both of you turn into couch potatoes for a couple of days watching cozy films
König
Keeping up a stoic demeanor can be tiring, so he easily drops the poker face as soon as he buries his face into your neck
No matter how much prying you do, you won’t get him to open up about what disturbs him
He’d rather keep those horrors locked away from you, you’re his most cherished possession
A lot of quiet moments where he’s just content to be with you again
Little is said between you as tender and passionate kisses are exchanged
Don’t think he’ll leave your side for the next few days, you’re attached at the hip
As you trace the scars on his back to his shoulders, you feel his body tremble beneath your fingertips
Your touch is addictive to him; soothing him into a tranquil sleep
Phillip Graves
He’s had to deal with a lot of crap so he’s relieved to finally come back to some peace, and most importantly; you
At first, he didn’t want to overwhelm you with issues that aren’t yours, but as your relationship progressed he started opening up more
Oftentimes, he’s in an irritable mood when he comes back
You listen to him rant if that’s what he needs
Other times it gives him too much of a headache to even think about
He adores you for understanding him without words being spoken
With so many enemies he has, he feels undeserving of you, someone who’s like a warm ray of sunshine in his austere life
When he falls silent you know that’s your cue
A sort of haze entrances him as you trail soft, torturous kisses along his jaw
Your scent obscures his mind as he gets drunk on your affection
He can’t even remember what he was mad about
#cod fanfic#cod headcanons#simon ghost riley#ghost cod#ghost x reader#keegan p russ#cod keegan#keegan x reader#john soap mactavish#soap x reader#cod soap#konig x reader#konig cod#phillip graves x reader#phillip graves#phillip graves cod#call of duty#call of duty fanfic#headcanon
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during third life after the battle of the red desert, scar is patching grian up after the battle, the new yellow life has been particularly silent, just kind of staring at scar, who feels alittle flustered under his gaze, the intensity he’s used to, but there’s someone more.. he doesn’t know how to describe it. so he averts his eyes, puts on his most charming smile, and turns grian around, looking at the arrow wound that is scarred over, applying some gel to the raised scar tissue, hoping to soothe it slightly. the scar represents a vow ended. will grian leave tomorrow? what will the future hold. the questions stir in his gut but he lets them fall from his mind like sand falling from his fingers.
no need to think in what mays when he can hold on to what he has now. he traces that wound, fingers feather soft, lets himself mourn a moment, before finishing checking him over for any other wounds. grian wets his lips, dry from the heated air, even at night, he utters his first words of the night “kiss it better” escapes before he can catch his tongue. scar pauses, stock still, hands feeling too large all of a sudden, “sorry?” “kiss it better, so it’ll heal” grian says again, strained by his embarrassment, but holding strong. scar hands slowly caresses grians skin, reverently worshipping the skin given, soft against his rough hands, rough from battle, from building, from time. scar leans in, and places a soft kiss to the skin, moving slowly like grian would run away. could run away. kisses him as though he doesn’t understand that grian spins in orbit of scar, that he’s caught by him, drawn in by every quip, half smile and smooth line, by his gentle sweetness, by his bright faced smiles that light his whole face, by scar.
grian turns to face scar then, and their eyes burn against eachother, held in a intense quiet, scar is about to speak, mouth open, when grian moves into him again, hands placed on his shoulders as he slots their lips together. scar gasps, heart bursting and face heating before they’re kissing. grian pushes, trying to turn it rough, intense, trying to push every word he’s not brave enough to utter, almost bruising in his force. scar leans back slightly, taking grians face in his palm, turning the kiss soft, slow. grian follows, and that’s all they do for a moment. exchange sweet kisses, grians eyes closed tight, afraid to open them, as scar looks on sadly, cherishing every wrinkle and line, the redness of grians cheeks, his quiet gasps between kisses. then grian pulls away, and scar lets him, hand following the action, always following, idly tucking some hair behind grians ear. “i’m staying” is what grian says. “i love you” is what he means, tilting his head to kiss scars hand, gaze not leaving scars eyes. scars gaze softens, a weight in his chest lifted, he leans into grians space, kissing over his face. “i’m staying you too” he smirks, reading between the lines. grian groans softly at that, all dramatics as he rolls his eyes and pretends it doesn’t send his heart racing, layers delicately peeled back and exposed, he lets himself bask in it for once, vulnerable and exposed as it was.
he laces his fingers into scars other hand, and after a few more kisses they lay in bed, grian smushing himself against scar as thought he could become one with scar, one could say clinging, as scar traced little flowers into grians waist absentmindedly. they chat idly about battle plans for some moments, but slowly sleep creeps up on them. scar traces grians figure before he closes his eyes. when he opens his eyes again grian is still a warm weight against him, still there. he breaths relief.
when scar closes his eyes for the last time in this little world of theirs, surrounded by their home, grian is still a warm weight against him, salt raining on his face, “i’ll stay” grian begs into his hair. scars heart clenches, his ribs constrict. he sounds so lost. so sad. he can hardly see but he reaches for his light, pressing into him. scar doesn’t respond. grian sobs openly and loudly, the sound tearing out of him. takes scars hand and kisses it, still warm with fake life.
uhh oops this was supposed to be a prompt
HELP
honestly anon I don't think I need to add anything to this or do it as a prompt. this is perfect as is HDGJFHGJFG
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Hi!! this is my first time requesting anything but i was wondering if you could do creepypasta boys were you kiss / compliment there scars!
Kissing their scars (various crp)
Bro I scratched my skin right next to this burn last week and it HURTS so bad
Characters: Jeff the Killer, Ticci Toby, Eyeless Jack
Notes: Reader is GN, fluff, these boys need help
CWs: talks of violence in.. well all of them, mentioned of self harm in Jeff's part
Jeff
You decide to kiss the gashes in his cheeks, the ones that he carved.. he never really viewed them as anything very negative; sure it reminds him of the night he killed his entire gamily.. a fact he has a very wishy washy feeling of guilt over depending on the day
At first he thinks you're trying to kiss his cheeks but you make it very clear what you're trying to do when you begin to compliment them- they've healed so well since theyve been put there
Between the three he tries to play it off the most, of course it looks nice- they make him beautiful, and he always will be beautiful! What are you talking about reader?
Hes not at all willing to be vulnerable around you, it doesnt matter how long you two know each other or how close you get he never.. really let's himself just be in his feelings around others
But just know that hes going to be sitting in bed tonight looking up at the ceiling replaying what you've said and going back over the events that lead him here- rare moment of self reflection essentially
But to your face.. hes just the same as hes always been, even teasing you for having such a huuuge crush on him- bonus if the two of you are already dating
Eyeless Jack
You rarely ever get to see him without the mask, but when you do.. it's best not to do something like this the first time you see his eye sockets- hes very cagey about his face in the first place and hes not quiet ready to handle more attention drawn to it. The first few times it's off it's best to meet it with indifference
But when more time passes, you're more than welcome to test the waters. You already knew Jack had a fair collection of scars, but there was a different feel to the burned and gashed holes where his eyes would have been
He wont let you kiss him, mostly because hes unsure of what exactly the goo was made of, as well as naturally not liking the idea of someone putting their mouth where his eyes just to be- but you're allowed to trace your fingers along the scar tissue
Hes never going to tell you what happened unless theres a reason to, hes very firm when setting this boundary. It's just something that makes him feel.. gross..
He already doesn't talk much but he becomes silent as you trace your fingers and talk to him
He might go back to wearing his mask all the time again for a while but it's not exactly your fault, it was just a huge step- it's okay to back up a bit to process things
Ticci Toby
Due to his CIPA he has a bit of a disconnect between him and his injuries, scars included. He didnt really feel them when they were being made, sure he may have felt some pressure depending on what caused it but other than that, nothing really.. for a lot of them he doesnt have much thoughts- neither good nor bad
The only ones that really make him feel something are the ones he sustained from the crash- they're scattered across his body...
If you kissed or complimented any other scar he would tease you for being a little "weird", even making it a game to guess where he got the current scar from- with outlandish answers of course
But the second you reach one of /those/ scars the fun is immediately cut, you can tell theres something off
Similar to Jack, its something that has to be eased into due to the weight associated with the injuries. It's not the fact that it hurt when he got them but they serve as a reminder of what he lost
The only one who really tries to change the subject, perhaps by asking if you have any scars or markings on your body or simply changing the subject all together
Probably the only one who wouldn't want to be complimented due to the nature of some of his scars
#creepypasta x reader#creepypasta x you#creepypasta imagine#jeff the killer x reader#jeff the killer imagine#jeff the killer x you#eyeless jack x you#eyeless jack x reader#eyeless jack imagine#ticci toby x reader#ticci toby x you#ticci toby imagine
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byler headcanon where…
jonathan taught will morse code so they could tap on the walls of their bedrooms and talk like that during the night as a fun little game. when will told mike about it mike thought it was the coolest thing ever and practically begged will to teach him as well, so in their sleep overs at mike’s basements will teaches him little by little. but mike has a hard time paying attention and retaining what composes each letter.
seeing will writing it down for him just doesn’t help. it gets to the point where it’s really late at night and karen comes downstairs to send them to bed already. begrudgingly mike flips the lights off and the two of them snuggle into their sleeping bags.
will is about to doze off when he hears a muffled tapping against his ear. then mike is saying “was that an F?”
“no,” will says, “that was an U.”
mike frowns and from upstairs karen yells “enough with the tapping and talking! go to sleep, kids.” mike sighs.
will turns in his sleeping bag towards mike like always and closes his eyes to fall asleep. two seconds pass when he feels cold fingers in his palm. before he can react and pull away, mike taps across his palm, this time a dot, a line across with his nail, and two more dots. will opens his eyes and finds mike staring right back at him, big dark eyes filled with excitement.
“was that an F?”
“no, that was an L.” mike scowls and will laughs though he keeps it down so mrs wheeler won’t scold them again. “what do you wanna spell, anyway?”
mike twists inside his sleeping bag and rolls a bit closer. “i wanted to spell friend.”
will smiles at mike and mike, besides being annoyed of not being able to learn morse code yet, smiles back. and will feels warm, and safe, and like this basement could be the entire world for all he knows because his friend is here and that’s more than enough.
“here, give me.” will reaches for mike’s hand and gently taps across his palm. “this is an F.”
“ah! i was so close!” mike whispers and will chuckles again. “how do you make an R, will?”
“like this”
“and an I?”
“like this”
“what about-“
the next morning jonathan comes by to pick will up and will makes sure to leave behind the cheat sheet with the morse code symbols. mike doesn’t pay it any attention though. he goes to his room and lays on his bed, tracing across his palm the word FRIEND. that one he learned alright, and he couldn’t be prouder of himself. it was easy, when he could still feel the tingle of will’s fingers tapping across his palm.
#i thought of this headcanon a few days back and didn’t know how to write it but here we are#i just think this would be SUCH a cute memory for them to have together#when they are kids and feelings are just being warm and safe together#little moment they can trace back and see it’s always been there#that spark between them that made the other their person#IDK IM FEELING SOFT OVER THEM TODAY#as if i didn’t feel soft over them always#anyhow i hope you see The Vision#byler#byler tumblr#mike wheeler#will byers#stranger things#byler endgame#byler ao3#cleradin#byler fic#byler scenario#byler headcanon#mike x will#will x mike#my ficlets#byler ficlet
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CW: reader sucking nanamis dick lol, me playing up nanamis old manness bc i am picturing him as a middle aged man, no power dynamics, nanami cums on your face n realizes he may have a kink, reader is ":3" coded, unedited for now bc i need sleep
a/n: wrote this cause im down bad. not written well tho LOL
"Are you sure you like this? I dont want your jaw to hurt..." Nanami questions, furrowed browed as he gently traces the skin near your temple.
You were kneeling in front of him, hands placed on his thighs and grinning at him. "I want to. I really, really want to. Been thinking about it all day."
"You are quite eager."
"Arent you?" Your eyes trail to cock in your hand, completely hard and flushing a shade of red. His work attire was still on, and you just unbuttoned his pants enough so that only his dick was free. You had a thing for the work attire - you couldnt help it, he looked incredibly good in a suit.
In return, Nanami just rubs at his mouth, not denying it. Then he pets your hair, settling in his chair. "Okay, but I wont be mad if you grow uncomfortable."
You rolls your eyes at him, pressing your cheek against his cock. "You coddle me too much. I will not die from sucking dick, Kento."
He stays quiet at this, just silently brushing your hair back into his palms, holding it away from your face. It was polite, all things considering. You smile at him, while your tongue drags from the base of his cock to the tip.
You continue to prep yourself, licking and gently kissing the shaft, while Nanami watches in silence. Then, you put your mouth over him and begin to suckle the tip. A sigh is let out from the man, and he resists the urge to shut his eyes, wanting to watch the lewd sight.
Your head find a steady motion - bobbing up and down until you gag and pull off. He pretends that the sound doesnt turn him on, feeling bad that something uncomfortable for you sends blood rushing to his groin.
When you pull away, slightly panting, he rubs at your lips, now coated in saliva. "Are you okay?"
"You're doing it again, Kento. I am not a child - I've sucked other mens dick before."
He blinks at this, before frowning and forcing you back on his cock by your hair. But, when he heard your giggles from below, he realized quickly that you only said that to tease him. He sighs at that, shaking his head. "Do you like making me upset?"
You hum around his cock, letting drool purposefully fall from your mouth and down till it reached his balls - it was always bettter when it was sloppier, or so you have heard. But, you pull away quickly to answer him, tilting your head to the side so that you can continue to lick his shaft.
"Kinda fun to - you get this look in your eyes. Its weirdly sexy seeing you mad."
His non dominant hand goes back to caressing the skin on your face and his eyes soften. "I would never actually be mad at you."
You make eyecontact with him as you stick your tongue out and swirl it around the redden tip, ignoring the salty taste of pre. Then you give the head another kiss, pressing your nose against it. "I know. You're too soft around me. Its cute, I dont mind it."
"I'm glad," he breathes, and then he pauses, gulping, and looking away, "Then if you dont mind, can you go a little farther down? If its not too uncomfortable, of course."
You obey with little hesistation, mouth coming closer to the dark patch of hair on his lower abdomen. This time he groans out, and cant help but shut his eyes at the warm feeling of your throat. You try your best to focus, but seeing your lovers face contort with pleasure was too pretty to not watch.
His hips move from his chair, slightly bucking into your mouth like he couldnt control them. It makes a lewd noise in the back of your throat, and he groans hearing it. You continue your movements, and with each moment, his cock gets wetter from the amount of saliva coated on it.
Large, callused finger tips run over your neck, feeling the way his dick creates a small bulge, and he lets out a shaky breathe. "Fuck. Wow, you are something. Doing so well, thank you, thank you, fuck."
Tears are beggining to prick at your eyes from the lack of air, but still you try your best to nod at him, even if the action sends him groaning out again.
He was growing overheated from the whole thing, and you watch as he removes his tie and unbuttons the top part of his shirt. The sight makes you slightly moan, and it sends a vibration up Nanami's spine.
When you pull away for another breathe, he lets out a noise close to a whine, and you hold back a chuckle. "Looks whose the one eager now." You tease, and his cheeks pinken slightly as he looks away.
"You really treat me so well."
"You think I am good at sucking dick?"
A lewd way to put it, and Nanami wouldnt phrase it like that, but alas, he nods his head, before guiding you back onto his cock. You in return laugh, and immediately go back to work.
With each bob of your head, he gets more into it, now slightly pushing you down farther by your hair. You don't mind it, and Nanami begins to pant from the pleasure, deep and breathlessly. The sound only spurs you on.
It doesnt take much longer for his abdomen to tighten up, and the feeling of his orgasm to approach. You could tell he was close to coming, even without a warning from the way his grunts seem to grow louder. So you continue your pace, trying your best to hold out without a breathe until he cums down your throat.
But, to much of your suprise, he pulls you off from him by your hair. You try to protest, wanting him to cum in your mouth, but he simply grabs at his cock with his other hand and pumps it a couple of times before aiming it at your face.
Cum shoots out of the wet head, and you are forced to shut one of your eyes as the white liquid lands on your upper cheek and eyelid. The rest lands on a multitude of places on your face, causing you to squint your one opened eye. He groans the entirity of it, and so you let him cum all over your face, finding the noise cute.
But when he is done, you simply wipe off your eyes, leaving the rest for now, and blink up at him with a small frown. "You know it would be alot cleaner if you would have came down my throat."
Nanami just stares at you, eyes scanning your face. Then, you notice the tint of red that danced on his cheeks and ears. Your face lights up at the realization. "I knew you had some sort of kink. You're not as vanilla as I thought, Kento! Who would have thought cumming on my face would do it for you."
"You just look...so pretty like this." A laugh falls from your lips, as your eyes travel back to his cock that was beginning to harden again. Now, it was time for the real deal - you almost squeal in excitement as you drag him to the bedroom.
#mello.writes#nanami smut#nanami x reader#nanami kento smut#nanami kento x reader#x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk smut
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In father’s embrace
synopsis: HSR men as dads and what your family dynamic is like.
pairings: Blade, Gepard, Loucha, Sampo, Jing Yuan x fem!reader (separately)
tw: fluff, established relationship, implied initial mortal x immortal in Blade’s
word count: 5.2k words
a/n: Luofu Xianzhou timeline is hell, so Blade’s one is quite vague.
Here’s the Genshin version!
Blade
Blade tends to say that he has no connection to his past, but that is not true and very few (mostly Kafka) know he is lying. Even with his life and death fucked up he can't simply let go of someone his heart has been always full with, of someone who he promised himself to by the altar, even if under another name, of someone, who gifted him the joy of both his previous and current life - your daughter.
The blade - a cold weapon with no feelings - should not experience being lucky, but that’s what he was, when you clutched him in your arms the first time after his return from the dead and sobbed in his chest, telling him how much you missed him, how much his little angel missed him.
Back then he should've left without a trace, maybe even coming to you in the first place was a mistake, but he just couldn't. And his resolve crumbled completely when a white-haired toddler in your arms gazed at him with the same soft eyes as yours and reached out to his face, hesitantly asking "dada?".
As much as Blade is capable - he loves you and your daughter. He is quite absent due to his involvement with the Stellaron Hunters, but you understand how important that magenta-haired woman's ability is when it comes to restraining the mara in his body. After all that's the reason why he can visit without fear of hurting you or his little girl.
Some other sacrifices had to be made - one of them was moving from the Lofu Xianzhou, but that was alright and your daughter loved her new environment. Besides, dada has been visiting more often ever since you moved! And no one really bothered or chased after you (after all, you are still registered as his wife and higher ups of Lofu know), which, you assumed, was somehow connected with a young girl that once came with Blade.
Kafka once brought up a proposition of moving you two to the Stellaron Hunters' base for Blade's easier access, but he declined. At least his loved ones should have a peaceful everyday life.
With a tired sigh the black-haired man lowers himself on a sofa in the living room of the house you two purchased to start a seemingly new life. The red-hot iron in his eyes disappears behind the heavy eyelids and for a moment Blade allows himself to relax. The little wonder, that is his daughter, ran to your bedroom to fetch some hair accessories, after you encouraged your husband to let her style his long locks.
He doesn’t move when you sit next to him, hip to hip and heart to heart. He welcomes your sneaking fingers, curling his, creating a secure lock of hands. The weight of your head resting on his shoulder is grounding and he can’t help but press his cheek against it.
It’s soothingly silent.
It almost reminds him of the past.
“For how long will you be staying this time?
Even your question, spoken in a tender, understanding voice, is familiar. You used to ask him the same thing in-between his Cloud Quintet-related missions.
These days it’s difficult to sneak and see you during breaks though.
“Fifteen days,” his breath is even, and eyes are still shut, but he senses a smile that tugs on the corners of your lips.
“That’s a lot. She will be so happy,” and he knows that you are as well.
The rapid stomping of little feet bursts into your peaceful serenity, and you simultaneously glance at the doorway. Low and behold - the soon-to-be hair stylist is proudly running into the room, tightly clutching your jewelry box with various hair pins inside.
“Dad, I practiced! Mom says I’ve been making huuuuuuge progress!”
A tiny smile touches his pale lips - it’s such a miracle that a monster like him is blessed to have the most adorable child in the whole universe. With her and you by his side, this life gets more and more bearable.
“If mom says you’ve been, then it must be the truth,” he nods, letting go of your hand - but not before giving it a little affectionate stroke with his thumb, - sliding down and onto the floor, turning his back to the girl.
Giggling excitedly, she gives you the box, which you quickly unlock, and starts looking through the many intricate pieces of jewelry (many are your beloved’s presents), until finding the perfect one.
Having his hair being touched is weird. He was aware that the white luscious locks used to draw attention, but only you were honored to run your fingers through them, and only his baby was allowed to tug on them, making her father wince. Now it’s different - she is oh so careful, brushing, collecting stray locks and braiding, not once causing him pain.
Blade sighs again, but looks at you from the corner of his eye, catching you snickering in your palm upon gazing at something that your daughter is turning his hair into. Well, that’s concerning.
But at this very moment he can’t bring himself to care. If he gets fifteen whole days before his next mission, he is going to savor this time with his family - no matter how disastrous he’s going to look by the end of it.
Gepard
A family man. So no one was surprised when in the end the leader of the Silvermane Guards ended up with three kids - two sons and a daughter. Partly it was dictated by the rules of nobles and his family among them, but ultimately it was your mutual sincere decision.
It’s obvious he is not there for many of his kids’ first times, as sometimes his duties prevail and even the Supreme Guardian cannot help it, but he really-really tries to be there as much as possible. He appreciates the videos you send him, has every single one stored in his phone’s memory and sometimes, when there is no communication, in his spare moment he replays them to remind himself that soon he’ll return home and see his kids and you.
Only one time he really fucked up because of work - during your first pregnancy you both underestimated the soon arrival of your due date and he left on a mission with his troops, reassured that he’ll be back before the day you go into labor. The snowstorm was severe and the connection was cut, so the message Serval sent him when your water broke was not delivered. His soldiers would bring to their graves the image of a deathly pale Gepard, when many hours later he checked his phone back at the base and nearly broke the screen, trying to type his sister’s number.
After that he started taking paternity leave seriously.
You do not keep in touch with his parents a lot - there were instances where they disapproved of you, but all of his siblings are always welcomed in your house and to see their nephews and niece, because they supported your relationship from the moment they met you in flesh.
Serval is an enormous help when it comes to babysitting. It’s like her part-time job honestly - you even offered to pay her, but she declined, suggesting offering her a helping hand whenever she’d need instead. Oh, and to be the first one out of all the Landau siblings (after her brother, of course) to know about the latest updates on your kids.
The kids that are adorable. All three won the ‘blue eyes’ lottery, which, given the previous generations of Landau, is not a big surprise; both boys look like Gepard, while the girl took more after you in appearance. The man really doesn’t want to play favorites, but sometimes he is just too weak for his little princess, who looks just like her mom. She is the youngest too with a pretty big age gap between her and her brothers, who were born a year apart, so there is literally no jealousy, because your sons took their father’s example and became her protectors.
Even from a 'big bad dragon' that is their aunt…
When you step inside your house and hear the kids still fussing somewhere in the rooms, involuntarily your gaze falls to the old grandfather’s clock in the foye. Almost midnight. All three should be long asleep with Serval sending you a notification of her success. Which you didn’t receive and for that reason had to cut your date short and hurry back home.
Your husband looks as concerned as you are, locking the door and straining his ears to determine what’s going on. With both your coats abandoned, you carefully step further into the house, making your way to the line of light coming from under one of the doors.
Two jaws almost kiss the floor when you see Serval lying on the floor tied and gagged with a scarf. Alone. For a moment you fear the worst.
Rushing inside, you let Gepard search the other rooms for intruders. Helping your sister-in-law to sit is no problem, but the knot behind her head is awfully tightened. In the end you manage to yank it down to free her mouth, quickly switching to the rope constricting her hands.
“Y/n, oh my god,” she gasps, finally able to speak. “Who taught your sons to tie knots like this!? I didn’t know a sixteen- and fifteen-year olds can be so strong-”
“Come again?” Stunned, you stop untying her wrists, looking at the woman with widened eyes. Your boys did what?
“My precious nephews - whom I really do not want to strangle - took the game of knights too seriously, and when - maybe a half an hour ago? - I decided to play the dragon who was stealing the princess - my niece of three years, - they attacked and tied me!”
“Huh…” is all you can say, feeling relief wash over you. At least there are no burglars or kidnappers and your kids are safe.
When, listening Serval’s huffs of complaints, you move to untie her legs, the heavy steps of your husband are heard in the hallway, accompanied by the boys whining and begging their dad not to come to the living room, because the dragon would eat their sister.
His tall figure appears in the doorway, with your daughter in his arms, looking very sleepy, and two almost carbon copies of their dad pulling at his jacket to give them their sister back.
“Serval, what in blazes have you told them?” The judging tone and the squint of his blue eyes are directed at his elder sibling.
“It was just a game, Geppie! A silly game they turned into reality.”
“Aunt said she’d eat her,” your oldest pouts, eyeing her cautiously. “And she told us stories about the cannibals the other night-”
“Serval, you what?”
“Hey, they asked me to! Oh, thanks, Y/n,” she shrugs the loosened rope off of her. “Where did you even get this?”
“Aunt Lynx gave us,” the second son chirps, hugging Gepard’s side. “She showed us how to do knots.”
“This little-”
Suddenly you feel a headache coming. With big family come big challenges, but something of this caliber hasn’t happened in a while. It makes you smile though - you almost forgot what it was like - to raise two boys. Seems like your girl brings the borderline naughtiest out of them.
Loucha
To begin with it's worth mentioning that your and Loucha's marriage started as an unpredictable necessity. You both needed to enter the world that allowed only married foreigners' access. So, quickly figuring that your goal matches, you got married on a neighboring planet, spent a month there to make the marriage more believable in the sense of its duration and learning more about each other. Yeah, all of that just to fulfill your respectful jobs. You invented and rehearsed all the possible answers to the questions, perfected your affectionate act and were actually feeling quite comfortable around each other.
It was almost funny, when on the 'how many kids do you plan to have?' Loucha confidently answered 'two', and a couple of years later your first son was born, and then, after 7 more years, another one was too.
Admittedly, the oldest one was kind of unplanned, but at that point you traveled so much together, shared so many memories, even ended up caring for each other on a lover-like level, that you decided to give it a shot, just like you did with the continuation of your marriage.
And Loucha couldn't be more pleased. Surprisingly, he found the peace of those first years he spent settled down to raise your boy delightful. And there was something exciting about having a little wonder with a perfect mix of both of your features in your arms, as your husband's hand is resting on the small of your back, leading you through the crowds of the new planet's lively market, as the child's eyes shine with marvel, taking in his surroundings.
When Loucha suggested having another one it simply felt right.
Your sons are so lucky in the sense of seeing the universe, because their father is a traveling merchant. Sure, he doesn't always take you and your two boys with him, but whenever his deal allows him enough freedom and your kids are doing great in school and can be taken on a little vacation - you three are going with him.
Usually he gets to take care of the youngest one, since only Loucha's vast knowledge can satisfy his curiosity, while the oldest one calmly walks hand in hand with you, content with listening to their conversation and pointing out to you the things he already knows himself, receiving a soft praise from you and an approving nod from his father.
Back home the roles reverse - the oldest is spending most of his time with Loucha to learn all about medicine and healing techniques, while the youngest is more interested in sharing your hobbies.
The two hardly ever quarrel as siblings tend to do, and it must be because of the overall serene atmosphere of your family dynamic, your soft nature and your husband's tranquil behavior.
More than a decade ago Loucha wouldn't have imagined himself with a wife and kids. Nowadays, however, he doesn't like the thought of not having the three of you by his side.
It is a quiet afternoon. A little house you rented for a little vacation has a nice yard - perfect for the kids to have fun outside. You occasionally glance at them from the window of the kitchen to make sure everything is fine, while your hands never stop moving - washing, cutting, stirring.
At some point you are so caught in the moment of tranquility, that you do not hear your husband walking in, until he softly hums to alert you of his presence, and puts his palms on your waist.
“Smells delicious,” you smile, feeling his chin on your shoulder, and grab a piece of a tangerine you are meaning to use for dessert, offering it to him.
“Mhm, I am trying to cook what we had yesterday at that restaurant.”
Ah, right, the restaurant the kids enjoyed. He remembers how you sneaked to the kitchen and came back with a little less credits, but with new recipes and an excited smile on your face.
“Hopefully my rendition will be to our boys’ liking. And don’t think I forgot about you - those Loufu Xianzhou-style noodles are already on their way!”
“So thoughtful of you, darling,” his silky voice caresses your ear and not a second later a kiss is pressed to your cheek. “Do you need any help?”
“Weren’t you busy?” You decide to clarify, clearly recounting how he locked himself in one of the rooms earlier that day to test something. To your question Loucha shakes his head.
“All done already. And I missed you and the kids.”
“Then go and play with them,” you urge, turning to face him to offer a sweet smile. “I’ll handle it here, but the boys could use some quality time with their father.”
“You say that as if they didn’t drag us all around the city yesterday and then climb into our bed and refuse to leave.”
“I mean, it’s the first time in two months they properly see you. That last deal of yours was exceptionally time-consuming.”
“You kept me updated on them so well and those video calls we had… it didn’t even feel like I ever left.”
You only huff and return your gaze to the stove, yet leaning into his chest a little. For a minute it’s quiet, and the man is taking his time before parting from you. That is until he takes a deep inhale and nuzzles his face in your neck.
“Thank you, Y/n.”
“What for, handsome?” There is that teasing lilt in your voice he came to love. Over the course of your lives together he discovered many things to love you for, and if not for that desperate decision to get married - he thinks he’d hardly ever feel the same about his life.
“For everything.”
He leaves your side with a kiss on your shoulder and the next time you glance out of the window again - he is already there, hoisting his youngest in one arm and chasing after the oldest one with his hair swaying in the gentle wind. And your heart is at peace.
Sampo
In all his life Sampo has managed to never impregnate a single woman and he considers that a success. For all the crap people speak about him Sampo is not an idiot, even though he acts like a fool at times. He is extremely self-aware and bringing a child to this world is probably the last thing on his list.
But no one said anything about someone else’s child, right?
Your and Sampo’s relationship is… strange, not going to lie. One evening you happened to help a scared woman to escape from some drunkards (whom you lately found out were the Silvermane Guards, sober and on duty), only for the long wig to slip and the heavy coat to slide down, revealing shortly cut but nicely styled hair and obviously male broad shoulders. The only thing the man managed to get out was a sheepish “hehe”.
And boy did that “hehe” change your life.
That day Sampo Koski got off the hook, since you didn’t comment anyhow and just let him go, which, given you were an overworlder, he found intriguing. So he dug a little bit, out of pure curiosity. Besides, this man didn't like staying in debt to someone and he needed information to see how he could pay you back.
That’s when he found out you were a single mother. An opera singer, but divorced and with full custody over a six-year old daughter.
And honestly, he didn’t give it much thought at first. He simply arranged a nice bouquet of red roses for you, paid Natasha a little for a handmade plushie and left it all at the door steps with a ‘thank you’ note.
Until a couple of weeks ago, disguised again, he didn’t stumble into a group of kids obviously bullying a little girl, mocking her for not having a father, and throwing something among themselves that she tried to catch. And he recognized the toy. And one glance was enough to see how much she looked like the woman he met only once. And against his better judgment Sampo walked to the children, easily snatching the toy and effectively scaring everyone off. Only with that little girl still being there, eyes full of unshed tears and fingers digging in the skirt of her pretty dress.
That tiny ‘thank you’ when he handed the plushie back to her and she hugged it tightly to her chest made the conman’s heart clench, and for the second time that day he sent his plans to hell, keeping her company near the house you lived in until you arrived from work.
That day he learned many things - how much your daughter loved the toy and what a sweet little thing she was, how tired a person can look and how much a throat can hurt from the whole day of singing during rehearsals, how nice a home-made dinner can be once you are invited, but most importantly - how even such a damned man like him can be gazed upon with gratitude and not from one, but two people.
From that day many other instances happened, but in the end he just stuck around. It was strange, it was new, but in a sense it was comforting, especially when you would come home - on Friday, for example, - and he’d be there, entertaining your daughter and then greeting you with a smile and a silly wave of his hand.
You don’t have a husband, and your daughter doesn’t have a father - but with his presence Sampo Koski manages to fill those voids even if a little bit.
Aeons you love days off. A morning to finally sleep in and do not run around like crazy in attempts to get yourself and your kid ready. Even breakfast wasn’t on you today, because the ‘silly man’ stayed the night and told you to get your sleep, assuring you with that confident puff of his chest that the Sampo Koski would offer you his best service, which effectively made you giggle.
Tonight he even cuddled with you, letting you bury your face in his neck and be a little vulnerable in the arms of a man with whom you had the most peculiar relationship ever. But after such equally peculiar moments you really start thinking of suggesting moving from the couch in the living room to your bedroom permanently. It’s been months already, who would’ve thought.
Barefoot and not even glancing at the robe on the chair near the window you leave the room, rubbing at your eyes and brushing your hair away from your face. You are craving the cup of your morning drink, and so you let your legs carry you to the kitchen at first. However two voices coming from your wardrobe room instantly peak your interest and make you halt in your walking. What on earth could your daughter and your clown of a man be doing there?
And soon enough you find it out.
“Sit still, please!” The girl begs with an eye shadow palette in one tiny hand and a huge brush in the other. “It’ll smudge if you keep turning to the mirror!”
“Just can’t wait to see how beautiful I am, princess, ‘s all~”
There, on the floor among the rows of your clothes and shelves with beauty products and accessories, none other than Sampo is sitting, willingly offering his face to your daughter’s practice of applying makeup. And gods he looks absolutely hilarious.
But that’s not what exactly concerns you.
“Is that my dress?” You point at the red shimmery thing snuggly sitting on the man in front of you and that’s when the two notice you.
“Yes, mommy!”
“Say I pulled it off, right?” With a smirk the green-eyed menace winks at you and it looks even worse with poorly done lashes. You have to stifle your laughter. “Though I must admit, we had to keep it unzipped - my chest appeared to be bigger than yours-”
And that’s when you regret not bringing slippers with you - one flying in his head would be of great help.
“Sometimes I really hate you.”
“Nuh, sweet thing, you love me!”
“Well,” you step closer, grabbing a tissue to try and fix at least the overly bright blush on his cheeks, “maybe. Maybe I actually do.”
Suddenly Sampo is tongue-tied and silent, trying very hard to fight off the stupid grin forcing its way onto his face. But with thoroughly smeared red lipstick on his mouth it looks so damn comical.
“Mom, do you think pa looks pretty?” Your daughter hopefully asks, putting aside her tools, and that little two-letter word doesn’t go unnoticed by either of you. You feel a real blush burning under your deft fingers.
“Yes, sweety, Pa-mpo looks very pretty,” his head whips in your direction like you’ve just told him to go and surrender to the Belobog’s esteemed order keepers.
“...Pa-mpo?”
“Would you prefer Da-mpo instead?” Cocking your head in question, you smirk at him, relishing in the pout he is wearing at the moment. “Or maybe Sam-pa?”
“No, thank you very much,” he huffs. “Little princess called me ‘pa’, so be nice and respect it.”
And now it is you who is surprised. You haven’t really discussed with Sampo who he was to your daughter, and who she was to him - but if he is making this step of acknowledging the matter, then who are you to spoil it? Who knows, maybe things will work out quite pleasantly in the end.
“Alright, pa, I will respect that.”
“Hey! For you I am your precious popo baby, a koskiss to your lips, the love of your-”
“Don’t even dream of it.”
Jing Yuan
Yanqing would be enough of an answer to the kid question, but it is not. Sure, his young disciple is practically a son to the General, but it doesn't mean the man doesn't want his own children.
He does and he has. On multiple occasions Jing Yuan's subordinates walked in on him with a small figure sitting in his lap or perched on his strong arm, observing what the dad's been up to with his plans and documents. You scolded your husband for this many times, but the bastard only smiles and keeps stealing his daughter to work to keep him company. Or she sneaks on her own - that caused you many almost heart attacks when she was no older than a couple of decades.
For Jing Yuan it’s all good though - he gets to spend time with his baby and have you inevitably join him in search for your adventurous child.
The General has a separate folder for all the pictures of his daughter on his phone - every single one he takes and every single one you send him when he couldn’t bring his girl to some of his meetings (yet he really tried, until you put your foot down and saved many of his subordinates from the prolonging of said meetings). Even the background, hidden from prying eyes behind the passcode of your and her birthdays, is his little one, cradled in your arms, as the two of you are watching kites flying in the sky.
Yanqing at first was set on treating her with the same respect he does his mentor and you, his wife, but you quickly put an end to it, basically turning the boy into her older brother. He didn’t mind at all - if anything he is sometimes way too eager to push the two of you to go on a date so he can babysit. Often you would return to the two fast asleep either on the girl’s bed or cuddled to Mimi with toys scattered and at least two books lying on the floor. The huge lion adores the girl - sometimes you feel like it thinks of her as its own cub, and the thick mane of hair your daughter got from her father does not help.
And it appeared to be as eager to steal your daughter from you as your husband is…
“Y/n!” You practically jump when the doors to your bedroom fly open and Jing Yuan bursts inside. Immediately you notice his disheveled state - hair down and a mess, the robe he wore this morning for comfortable work in his home office is falling off one of his shoulders and a shoe is missing from his foot.
“Aeons, Yuan, don’t scare me like that,” you put a comb down on your vanity table and fully turn to face him. “What happened?”
“Is our precious baby with you?” He steps further into the room and starts looking around frantically. Okay, now that got worrisome.
“No? You took her earlier this afternoon after lunch to play in your study while you work. Have you really forgotten that? My love, you are getting old.”
You hear clearly as he curses under his breath, raking thick fingers through his hair. The golden eyes look at you and in them you spot a flicker of anxiety.
“...Jing Yuan, don’t tell me that you managed to lose our daughter.”
“I didn’t, I swear,” he winces at the full name usage, watching you rise from your seat and quickly approach him. “She was right by my side, watching the animal videos on my phone, but then I got immersed in the latest reports from the Sky-Faring Commission and when I finished whose - she was gone!”
“Uh, want me to call your phone? Maybe she still has it.”
To that he puts a hand in the robe’s pocket and brings out his device. Oh god.
“It was lying on the floor, still playing videos.”
“Okay, deep breaths,” you are not sure if you are telling it to him or to yourself, but you too take an inhale, meanwhile busying your hands with adjusting his clothes. “Even buried in work you’d still notice if a human sneaked in, right?” He nods. “And you’d notice if she left - she would’ve warned you about that.” He nods again, lips pursed and eyes staring at one point. “Yanqing is not as skilled to come unannounced and take her, and he wouldn’t do it without your permission, so-”
“Wait,” his hand catches yours and realization flashes in his features. “Mimi came.”
“...Mimi?” Before you can ask him to elaborate, your husband turns around and rushes out of the bedroom. Concerned and a little bit intrigued, you quickly follow.
In one of the rooms of your huge house the two of you finally find the lion, and Jing Yuan almost drops on the floor in relief when his girl is spotted in the animal’s embrace.
“Is she…sleeping?” You ask, glancing from behind his broad back.
“It appears so. Hey, Mimi,” the maned head lifts, two ambers taking in your appearances and a pleased huff is let out through the nose upon recognition.
“Well, my dear,” you pat his shoulder, shaking your head, “it appears that people were right - like the owner, like the pet. Congratulations, your lion took your habit of stealing our daughter to heart. Good luck prying her from it.”
“You say it like it’s something hard to do,” there it is, a confident smile is back on his face as he strides closer to the animal, ready to bend down and get his girl. Only for that lift of the corners of his lips to be gone when Mimi growls at him in a warning and shields your daughter’s little body with its head.
You only smirk and leave the scene to go and get your phone - there is no way you are not filming your husband dealing with the consequences of his own behavior.
#honkai star rail#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#blade x reader#blade x fem!reader#gepard x reader#gepard landau x reader#gepard x fem!reader#loucha x reader#loucha x fem!reader#sampo x reader#sampo koski x reader#sampo x fem!reader#jing yuan x reader#jing yuan x fem!reader#honkai star rail fluff#hsr fluff
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Let Me in ~ Doppelgänger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader
Chapter 3
Word Count ~ 2.5k
Rating ~ Explicit
CW ~ blood and gore, body horror, character death, minor violence, dubious consent, sexual content
Also available on AO3
Fanart used with permission @kaworinx on Instagram and TikTok
You sit on the side of the bed that had once belonged to Francis Mosses.
The comforter and top sheet have already been pulled down. You lean over to slide out of your low heeled pumps, tucking the pair of navy leather shoes neatly under the bed.
There’s a bible on the nightstand. A worn looking copy. Beside it a glass with a shallow amount of water resting in the bottom, the remnant of a late night attempt to quench thirst, perhaps.
The doppelgänger watches your movements. How methodical each action is. Slow and deliberate. You’re stalling.
He settles beside you and the mattress creaks as the springs are compressed. That odd sort of shimmer you’d noticed earlier outside the security booth outlines his frame for a brief moment. A surge of light and color as the skin ripples before settling. They still weren’t completely able to disguise what they were. All hope was not lost.
Your own fate, however, seems sealed. You lie down slowly, carefully. You feel as if you are laying yourself to rest in your own coffin. Turning your face ever so slightly to see if there is any trace of the man that had once slept here, some lingering scent or an indent from his face. Nothing but the fragrance of clean linen. The imposter moves as if to join you but you halt him, your fingers closing over his forearm. Your first time touching him and not the other way around. “Take your shoes off.”
The creature snickers, glancing down at the scuffed oxfords he’s wearing. Overdue for a shine. “What possible difference does that make?”
“It’s respectful. You never put your shoes where someone sleeps.”
“He won’t be sleeping here ever again.”
You inhale sharply, wincing. “Please just do it.” You can’t say why you’re so hung up on this. Only that it seems the right thing to do. A small thing in a sea of wrongs that you’re clinging to like a life preserver.
“Fine.” He acquiesces, bending to unlace them. There is no care in his actions. Just brisk, impatient pulls to undo the knotted ties. Then he is lying beside you. Your heads sharing the same pillow. Francis only used a single one, apparently. Preferring to slumber lying with his head and neck rather flat. You always used two fluffy pillows, minimum.
You can hear the sound of music starting to play, emanating from the resident’s apartment next door.
Mia Stone, perhaps. The blonde teacher who was Dr. Afton’s fiancée. You instantly recognize the musical artist crooning through the walls: Billie Holiday.
I say I'll move the mountains
And I'll move the mountains
If he wants them out of the way
You would have loved to play this record for Francis. You envision trying to dance in the cramped space of the living room, twirling around in his arms. “Did he really like my fragrance?” You know the creature could lie, of course. He’d say anything to manipulate you and get what he wanted. But you have to ask. Your heart won’t let you avoid the query.
The dark eyes of the pretender regard you. You detect no malice or dishonesty there. “Yes,” he says simply.
You close your eyes, sighing. “What else did he like about me?”
“Your smile, gifted once you were certain it was really him. The way you covered your mouth when you laugh, making some little relieved joke when you passed his identification and entry request back to him each day. The strands of hair that came loose around your face as the day wore on into late afternoon when he returned from his route. The—”
“—Stop. Please.” Tears well in your eyes. They didn’t sound like the kind of details the deceiver would create on his own. There was a note of truth to them. Genuine recollections. He truly was all that remained of Francis Mosses. A man that had been fond of you. You could have been with him, if only you’d been a little braver.
“You asked me to tell you.”
“I know. It’s just overwhelming.”
Like the wind that shakes the bough
He moves me with a smile
“Your kind is so fond of music. Your milkman was always humming. I don’t see the use for it.”
The your wrenches your heart. He wasn’t yours. Never would be. “It’s a way to expression emotions. When words alone aren’t enough.”
“Hmmm.” He reaches out and you flinch. “Why are you fighting this so hard? This is what you wanted.”
“I didn’t want Francis to die.” You pause, swallowing past the lump in your throat. “Why do you want this?”
”Curiosity. An experiment of sorts. There has never been a union between our kind. Not of this nature. A desire to know what it feels like. To see what might result.”
You shudder. An experiment. Using you like some kind of animal for breeding. A mere whim.
He reaches again and this time you force yourself to hold steady, your chin lifting with a short jerk of defiance. Your hair is his goal. Tucking it back behind one ear. Maybe something the milkman had wanted to do. There’s a sudden softness in the doppelgänger’s eyes. As if the human he’d once been was peeking through at you. You find yourself melting again, your defenses coming down.
I say I'll care forever
And I mean forever
He moves closer to you. Inching over across the white fitted sheet. A thumb strokes away one of the tears that has escaped its prison. He captures the other from the opposite cheek, bringing it to his lips, his tongue darting out to taste the droplet. “Salt,” he says, recognizing the mineral.
He kisses you.
You’re not sure if it’s better to think of the man you had loved or not. Was it dishonoring his memory or was it a way to keep him present in some vague capacity? There’s no clumsiness this time. He knows the feel of your mouth. The way to shift against you. Tongue mapping past smooth cheeks and dragging along the carpet of muscle at the base of that maw. Maybe it was better to pretend this was Francis after all. You cup the back of his neck, fingers teasing the edges of his milk chocolate tresses. Curling slightly on the ends. It would be time for a trim soon. Would have been. The illusion you’ve created is crumbling again. Your lips falter, your hand dropping away.
Crazy he calls me
Sure, I'm crazy
Crazy in love am I
“Sweetheart,” the invader murmurs, tasting along your jaw, your neck. “I like the way you smell.” Speaking for himself, not Francis. You hear the sharp intake of air. The hand that had been casually laid across your shoulder slides down until it reaches your breast, gently kneading that globe through the layers of your bra and blouse. “Does this feel good?” His voice is octaves lower than you’d ever heard from the milkman. Slightly raspy and sultry, not unlike the singing voice that permeates through the wood and plaster behind the bed. You don’t dare answer, merely whimpering a little and he seems to take this as an affirmative response.
His hand leaves your breast and finds the top button of your shirt. Always sensible, pure white, part of the uniform standard the company requires. Another threaded plastic disc is pushed through the hole. He works his way down until all those that are exposed have surrendered, the remainder still tucked within your skirt. His fingers part the edges of the fabric encasing your torso, peeling them back to reveal the white satin brassiere beneath. He caresses you briefly through this slick material before tucking inside the cup until he brushes across your areola. Your nipple peaks beneath his ministrations as his lips move back to yours. He is surprisingly gentle, lightly pinching and rolling the aroused tissue. Your body betrays you, responding to the creature’s touch. You should be ashamed, disgusted. Instead you find yourself wanting more.
“Off,” he murmurs impatiently, plucking at your bra before his hand departs your chest. You struggle to sit up and he allows it, watching you pull your blouse free from your skirt and unfastening the cuffs before sliding it off your arms. With a swift gesture borne of long practice you easily pinch and release the hook and eye closures resting along the center of your spine, the cups immediately folding down over the underwire, the straps drooping over your shoulders.
The doppelgänger assists you now, sliding the brassiere off the rest of the way, exposing your chest to him. Your cheeks are pink, flushed like the nipples he’s toying with again, his head bending to suckle at one and a lick of flame sears your core. This is part of the invasive species’ learning process, you think. Taste as important as touch. His mouth moving not with the sole purpose of your pleasure in mind, but as a means to explore flavors and textures. Cataloguing. More of humanity’s secrets unveiled.
There is a song you don’t recognize playing next door now. Muffled voices. You’d had no idea the walls were so thin. Francis had never complained.
You’re shoved back down onto the pillow. His mouth wanders, back up to sample a collar bone, the hollow at the base of your throat, then dips in between your breasts and tastes the skin of your abdomen. You wonder if he can detect the floral soap you’d bathed with that morning, the traces of lotion you’d applied during your hygiene routine.
“I like this,” he says, his breath warm on your body. “You’re so soft. Smooth. Not like…I’ve never taken…” It had often been debated if there were sexes in their species. How they propagated. There was still so much unknown. Was there a reason he’d only chosen men to replicate? Was it simply because he was male himself? You could not explain how you knew it, but there was something distinctly masculine about him. Authoritative. Blunter than a woman would be. A lifetime of being raised to respect decorum had been firmly ingrained in you. Society valuing a woman who knows her place. Taught to be demure, deferring to the wisdom and guidance of their male counterparts. Serving and obeying, like you’re doing now.
The imposter returns his attention to your face. Licking your mouth back open. He likes this, you think. All of what you’d shared thus far, but perhaps the kissing best of all.
The background melody silences and you think you detect the front door opening and closing. You wonder if the couple will be going out to an early dinner. Curious when they find there is no one guarding the building. But not alarmed. Not yet.
Your skirt is being lifted, polyester dragged upward after the copycat’s hasty reach downward to gather the hem. Immediately sliding back down, stroking over your exposed thighs that are clad in nylons that stop midway across each of your upper legs. Nothing fancy, just utilitarian features in a shade of nude slightly more tanned than your own complexion. He nudges against the seal you’ve created by pressing your legs close together. “Let me in, sweet girl.” An echo of what he’d said earlier in an attempt to gain access to the building, now seeking entry into you. You feel your limbs parting for him nearly as promptly as you’d opened the door.
The pretender works his way back up to the fork of your body, teasing along the crotch of the white panties. You gasp and he smiles against your lips. His palm drags over the fabric until his fingers find the elastic waistband and he dips beneath it, running overly the neatly trimmed hair on your pubic mound, following the curve of that padded flesh until your sex is palpated.
Another gasp and a moan escapes you. “So wet,” he remarks, fondling the pink lips, parting the petals with his middle finger to slide through the slick arousal your body is creating, working the lubricant up and down, passing over the hooded nub and then delving back towards your entrance, where more fluid escapes.
It feels good and yet it doesn’t, his fingers too rough and just shy of where you need him. You squirm and wince at the harsh handling of your clitoris and he pauses, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Show me. Show me how you like to be touched.”
You reach down cautiously, guiding his fingers to one side of your sensitive bud, lightly pressing and rolling a fingertip so that your clit is ground slightly against the bone beneath. Alternating now, reaching back down to gather more of your slick before spreading it over that hooded button, a few direct strokes applied before beginning the process again. He replicates your actions and your body responds immediately, a hum of pleasure heating you. You close your eyes and you think of the milkman, the real one, with his kind smile and his tired eyes.
“Francis.” The name escapes your lips and you freeze, the rocking motion of your hips against the imposter’s hand abruptly ceasing. You hadn’t meant to say it out loud. Alarmed by how easily you’d allowed yourself to give in to the desire, accommodating this make believe passion.
“It’s alright, love. It’s me. I’m here.” His tongue laps at your ear, at the sensitive patch of skin behind it. You shiver and resume grinding against his fingers, letting yourself be deluded once more, your hand curling over his forearm.
“Francis,” you say again, hoping he can forgive you, in whatever form he now occupies, if he is saved as his faith professes he would be, finding redemption and peace, somewhere far from your sinning body that writhes in pleasure from his murderer’s touch.
You push against his hand and he allows it, applying force against the hollow cavity that leads to your womb. “Let me in,” he breathes, and you feel a finger invading your body, shoving through the narrow confines of that muscular tunnel. Withdrawing and spearing again, the digit saturated with your arousal. You moan and lift your pelvis to meet him. Curling inside, massaging that dip of spongy tissue. Crooking each time he enters as if he is leading you forward, beckoning, his thumb drawing circles over your clit. You feel as if you’re on the edge of a chasm, teetering on the rim, about to drop forward into heat and darkness. Keening now. Thighs tremoring violently. Your face turns and your teeth sink into the pillow. “There you go, love. Give it to me. Give in to me.”
The coiling pressure within you snaps and you find release at last, the fabric clenched in your teeth doing little to muffle the sound of your orgasm. You’re drenched in sweat, the aftershocks of your appeased nerves still sizzling through you. The doppelgänger cradles you through all of it, holding you as you ride the waves that exhaust your limbs, making you feel boneless and limp.
“Francis.” It’s a yearning plea, a futile prayer, answered by the thing that is not him, but masquerades as such, crooning to you, whispering false promises, draping you in synthetic affection, a lie you want so desperately to believe.
#thats not my neighbor#francis mosses#milkman#francis mosses x you#francis mosses x reader#milkman x you#milkman x reader#doppelgänger
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𝓨𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓛𝓸𝓻𝓭
"𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝒽, 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒶 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒.”
CW: Fem reader (she/her), possessiveness, suggestive
Note: This is my first time writing something like this and posting it...go easy on me o(>< )o
The chandlers decorated the ceiling above the spacious ballroom, giving a gentle glow to the people filling said ballroom. The social season has just started to blossom, giving men and women room to court each other if one is blessed with the opportunity for such an experience. Catching the eye of a reliable suitor is quite troublesome– most of the men here do not fit any of your requirements, and if they did, they would suddenly be caught in a scandal of sorts, causing them to be an outcast. Not a good look on you or your family name.
You idly toy with the fan in your hand, your gaze sweeping over the sea of faces in the room. The task at hand feels insurmountable, and finding a suitable suitor in this town is daunting. Perhaps, you muse, debuting late was a misstep, a decision that now seems to mock you. You could always become a spinster…and ruin your reputation and lineage because you choose such an idiotic choice… regrettably it may be the easier option.
“Pray tell why you’re glued to this corner as if you’re some wallflower,” A witty baritone voice whispers in your ear, the hairs of your neck standing upright while a cold shiver runs down your spine.
The sense of familiarity washes over you, and the resentment still lingers from years ago makes its way forward. The Earl’s son, your childhood close friend, who left you without a word after he said he’d be there for you.
What a bastard
“Have you ever heard of personal space? Or have you forgotten the amount of lectures your mother ingrained into your head on etiquette when you were just a brat?” You bite back with venom coating every word you spit out. You place your fan on your left ear.
”Ah, I see.” He steps back and gives you space. “You’ve become cold-hearted towards me since my departure overseas. I was only gone for a mere moment.” He switches his position from behind you to in front of you. He takes up your whole vision, his maturity, more evident now since the last time you saw him as a juvenile boy. It's been a few years, hasn't it? Yet he still has his teasing nature; no boarding school or amount of lectures can take that away from him.
He bows a little lower than he should, his right hand to the opposite shoulder and his left arm behind his back. He looks up at you with those oh-so-regretful grey eyes. “I wholeheartedly apologize for departing overseas in such an impulsive matter without even notifying you in any way. I should’ve sent you letters and a hoard of messenger doves to accompany you”. “But I did not, and for that, my Lady, I've made a significant sin in your eyes– I do not deserve your forgiveness, but oh, if you could grant me such a pleasure.”
His voice is as quiet and soft as a starving mouse stealing food from a kitchen, careful for only your ears to pick up his pleas for forgiveness. Just as though you were a goddess punishing him, which he should be reprimanded tenfold in his eyes, who was he to abandon you without a trace? Though the situation before was entirely out of his hands, he didn’t want to go to that goddamned private school that was away from you; he fought tooth and nail not to go. Every house servant had to push and hold him down because he kept fighting; even his family members were victims of his wrath. His father, The Earl, still has fading scars from that night years ago.
He should’ve fought harder for you.
People around you start noticing; who wouldn’t? One of the most prestigious Earls of this country’s only son is bowing dishonourably low, borderline grovelling like a peasant caught stealing a measly loaf of bread. You feel eyes turning onto you, women whispering between their fans to one another, wondering in what predicament the next-in-line Earl would be for him to be embarrassingly bowing to a one-of-a-mill daughter of a viscount—a rank lower than him and a woman at that; your fan placement is not making it look better. Immediately change the position of your fan from your left ear to twirling it in your left hand, hoping he understands the situation he has put not only him but you in.
He only smiles in return. “Stand straight; You look like a fool.” You hiss, “Do I have your forgiveness, Darling?” a scoff escapes your mouth. “That is either here or there! Be proper. Others are watching.” That doesnt deter him, nor does he care about them. “So my apology wasn't sufficient? Since you are thinking about everyone else but me.”
More eyes make their way onto the pair of you, and whispers grow with the exchange of gossip. “You’re acting like a child-” He cuts you off. “Shall I go on my knees for you? I mean, I wouldn’t mind, but preferably, I would love to be in a more…secluded environment.” A smirk graces his lips at the thought. “Or shall I kiss your feet-”
“You are a soon-to-be- Earl! Has that school taught you nothing? God, you’ve become more insufferable, I swear.” Your face feels warmer now, and embarrassment takes over you from his childish yet sincere teasing.
The young lord’s eyes fixated on you, on your lips, how your dress accentuates your already perfect self, your hands, oh, how he wishes to feel them against his. The years it's been since he saw you, he could listen to you scold him for hours on end; it doesn’t matter what you are saying. Just hearing your voice is enough. God knows it's been too long since he’s been deprived of you. He thanks his past self for sabotaging whatever male decided to even think of courting you. Though he was far away, his social standing never changed.
The lord decided by the second month he was away from you to pay his old servants to send him as much information as possible on the vermins that would try to nestle their way into your life. He would…No, he has ruined anyone who wanted to get in between you two. And he’ll keep it that way. You’ve stolen his heart since meeting him as a lad.
“So you wish for me to kneel? As you wish.” He starts to kneel; gasps can be heard. But you stop him, holding his shoulders upright; his eyes widen as you touch him.
You’re so close
“I forgive you…I forgive you…”
“I forgive you, Ambrose…”
Oh…
His name on your tongue….
His mind blanks. Has he gone to heaven? Oh, you sweet angel, you have him wrapped around your finger. And he wouldn’t want it any other way.
His smile is blinding as he stands and looks down at you.
“Then now that's settled…May I have the honour of a dance with yours truly?”
.." Or shall I beg more?"
End Notes:
Fun fact (not really): I based most of this post on The Regency era, and that includes fan language! That is why I described the readers' actions with it.
Placing the fan on your left ear means "I wish to get rid of you."
Twirling the fan with your left hand means "We are watched."
Thought that would be something fun to add (^.^)
#help idk what im doing#yandere x female reader#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere male x reader#yandere oc x reader#yandere oc x y/n#yandere imagines#yandere x you#yandere drabble#male yandere#soft yandere#yandere oc#yandere x darling#yandere blog#yandere rambles#yandere fic#x reader#oc x reader#oc x you#yandere male
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2/2
★ pairings: choso kamo x f!reader
★ synopsis: Yuuji Itadori truly was the best friend a girl like you could ask for, but he wasn't the only reason you came to visit. (His older brother, the devilishly handsome Choso Kamo, had always been the apple of your eye).
★ c.w.: slow burn, friends to lovers, eventual smut, childhood sweethearts, kinda, mutual pining, choso with a tongue piercing, rough sex, cunnilingus, backshots, unprotected sex, regular people au, two year age gap, PWP.
★ a/n: part two! its all smut lol. anyway, like I said, this one shot is finished (just split btw two chaps bc theres 11k words). but if u comment and persuade me who knows! I can always do another. im a whore for ur validation.
★ w.c.; 5k
best friend's brother ; chapter index
YUUJI COOCHIE <3
| come over tn?
| i got smth i wanna run by u first
YOU
| omw.
You stood on Itadori’s porch, finger poised over the doorbell a month after your eighteenth birthday. You had been anticipating to see your best friend, Itadori. But as the door swings open, what you don’t expect is to come face to face with Itadori’s older brother.
Your heart drops, and your breath catches in your throat as you take in his appearance. It felt for a moment as if time had stood still since you last saw him. He had only grown more handsome during your time apart. His dark hair was done back into two messy buns, deep bags residing beneath his deep eyes.
Choso looked absolutely breathtaking . His fitted black tee clung to his chest and arms, showing off his toned physique, while the baggy black sweats he was sporting gave him an effortlessly cool appearance.
His presence exudes a magnetic charm that takes you back to when you were 17. His half smirk sends a wonton shiver down your spine.
“Hey there,” He says, deep, rich voice sending ripples of familiarity throughout your body.
When his lips pull away from his teeth, forming syllables and words, you couldn’t help but notice a small glint of metal near the tip of his tongue. You realized immediately what had seemed so different about him, and your eyes widened in surprise.
“You pierced your tongue?” You blurt out, unable to hide your shock.
Choso nearly snorts, though his eyes never leave yours. “You’re not surprised to see me?” He teases.
“I am,” You retort quickly, trying to regain your composure. “You’re home for the holidays?”
He nods, gaze still fixed on your red face. “Just came home last night.”
That would explain why I didn’t see you, you thought.
“I’m glad you came, though, I’ve been holding onto your birthday gift for a while now,” He sighed, stepping aside to let you into the house but keeping his arm braced on the doorframe.
You slide under his muscular arm, doing your best to ignore the way your body bristled with electricity when you brushed up against him.
You set your bag on the ground near the door, kicking off your shoes and neatly pushing them aside while Choso locked the door behind you.
“It’s in my room,” he said, passing you.
You followed him nervously up the stairs into his bedroom, heart pounding a little louder with every step. This would be the first time you would find yourself alone in Choso’s room, and you couldn’t help but let your mind wander.
As you enter his bedroom, you drank in your surroundings – a rare sight. The room was a reflection of Choso’s personality; band tees all over the walls, sheets laid flat and clean, laundry sitting in a basket in a neat, folded pile – a subtle hint of organized chaos.
It felt both familiar and new at the same time. The air was thick with anticipation, and memories of your whirlwind summer fling with Choso came flooding back.
You brace your hands on the door. “Is Itadori home?” You ask him, hands tracing the doorframe while Choso rummaged through his drawer. You sat on his bed.
“Nah,” he replied casually.
Furrowing your brows, you tried to make sense of the situation. But told me to come over…
“Is he coming?” You tried again, voice tinged with uncertainty.
Choso rose up from the bedside drawer, extending a small box towards you with a slight grin. “Nope,” he said.
The realization hit you like a freight train. This was a fucking setup, and Itadori was the mastermind behind it all.
He wanted you alone with his brother. He knew about your fling with him.
He didn’t notice when the two of you had disappeared to the pantry for ten minutes.
Though the moment you returned to see him glancing at you with a curious brow raised, you knew he had finally caught on. Even if he didn’t say anything about it.
He knew.
He had set you up.
Your face was on fire. Still, you took the small box from Choso, an awkward smile on your face, and carefully undid the little bow. As you opened it, you revealed its contents – a tee shirt with Choso’s University crest on it, a glace pendant on a fabric necklace, and a box set of your favorite film saga.
Choso had never given you a gift for your birthday before, at least not anything beyond a card. Briefly, you wondered if it was his way of making up for your 18th birthday party, the one he had missed.
“Choso…” You began, a humorous grin on your lips. “Merch?”
He shrugged playfully, his gaze locked onto yours. “In case you miss me,” he replied, tone teasing yet sincere.
With a genuine smile, you leaned over and hugged him. “I love it,” you had told him.
Choso reached into the box for the necklace, gesturing for you to come closer. You leaned in, allowing him to loop the fabric over your head. His fingers brushed against your skin, your neck as he adjusted it.
He froze. You froze.
For a while, the room was quiet. There was an intense stare-off between you two. Choso cleared his throat, seemingly about to break the moment, but you had other plans. Gently, you gripped his chin between your index finger and your thumb, turning his head back to you.
Gently, you tugged his lower lip down. He stuck his tongue out to wet the corner of his lips in return.
Your breath hitched as your gazes locked, and the air in the room shifted. Choso’s dark eyes shifted beneath your gaze, and you found yourself drawn closer to him.
You swallowed. “How bad did it hurt?” You asked, eyes fixed on the sliver of metal you had caught a glimpse of inside of his mouth.
Choso raised a finger towards his mouth, bringing your attention back to his tongue. “This?” He asked. “Hurt like a bitch, not gonna lie, but it healed up real nice.���
Wordlessly, he stuck his tongue out so you could see it up close. You examined it carefully – it really had healed up rather nicely. There was a small, silver ball wedged into the pink muscle. You wondered how it would feel on your lips, your neck, your body .
Choso closed his mouth. “I got it the first weekend after move-in day,” He explained.
“Why?” You inquired, curiosity finally getting the better of you.
He shrugged with a smirk, “Thought it would look hot. What do you think?”
“I think it looks like a pain in the ass,” You retorted. “Don’t any of the girls you kiss complain about that thing?”
“Quite the contrary,” he remarked, licking his lips. “Why’d you ask?”
You tried to ignore the jealousy that bubbled up inside of you, deep inside of you at the thought of him kissing other girls. You had to remind yourself who you were talking to here. You would have been naive to expect loyalty from a college freshman.
“Looks cold,” you commented instead. “I don’t imagine that would feel very good.”
And his eyes, those dark, beautiful cesspools of emotion, dropped down to your lips, lingering for a moment too long before returning to meet your gaze. “You wanna find out?” He asked.
“Piss off,” You scoffed, hitting him playfully on the shoulder. But the blush on your cheeks betrayed the effect his words had on you. “Fuckin’ tease.”
He didn’t move back. No, instead, he leaned in a little closer. “You sure?” He whispered, warm breath grazing the shell of your ear. “I can show you how good it feels, if you want.”
And that’s how you wound up here, with his face buried between your legs. He kissed his way up and down the skin of your thighs. You made quick work of his twin buns, tugging the ties out of his hair.
His lips curled into a knowing smirk. He lifted one of your legs onto his broad shoulder, running his tongue along the length of your inner thigh, pressing a kiss right where your ass met your legs. The metal ball on his tongue felt odd against your skin, but not necessarily unpleasurable.
You had never gone this far with him before. You were turned on beyond comprehension, hungry eyes drinking in the rosey hue that dusted his pale complexion while he sucked on your skin – hard enough for it to hurt, hard enough to leave a mark.
Tenderly, Choso reached for your panties. He appeared to be on the precipice of a decision.
“Can I…” He panted, trailing his thumb over the thin piece of fabric that separated the two of you. “Can I take these off?”
You nodded quickly, lifting your hips up for him while he guided the panties off of your legs.
He licked his lips and parted your legs a second time, fully exposing you to his ravenous gaze.
“You look like heaven,” He breathed out, voice trembling. He took a moment to admire you, smiling at the way you tried to hide your face. “Wanna taste…”
You had never done this before. The one man you had ever dared to hook up with hadn’t bothered. So you swallowed the lump in your throat, watching him get down on all fours and dip his head down between your legs like a man with his head bowed in worship.
Though you were far from holy, in that moment, you felt like you were God.
His tongue was hot and wet against your skin, licking a stripe from bottom to top. The metal ball of his tongue piercing caught on your puffy clit, eliciting a quiet gasp.
“Feel good, baby?” He teased, relishing in the way your thighs tensed around his head. His eyes flitted between you and your pussy – spread open for him like a buffet – pupils blown wide with desire. His pink lips parted around his tongue a second time, and this time you watched him.
Watched him press the metal ball against your clit, rolling over it in slow, steady circles.
You felt like you could die here.
He adjusted his grip on your hips, pulling you down on the bed until you felt his nose pressing in between your folds. He kissed your heat, moaning into you. Then, without so much as a warning, he began to eat you out like a starved man.
“Fuck, Cho–” You cried out for him, reaching down to tangle your fingers into his inky black tresses. You had never felt so good in your life, like he had been waiting for this as long as you had. You were sensitive, far too sensitive to comprehend the way your body felt, the way his tongue piercing felt as it glided over your hot flesh.
He didn’t slow down. He licked, slurped, and kissed your swollen clit, keeping that unforgiving pace up until your hips began to jump against his tongue.
“Shit,” You hissed,
He moaned into you in response, meeting your gaze with an intense fire burning behind his eyes. His tongue massaged you up to what you know would be the hardest orgasm of your life – that damn piece of metal made for one hell of a stimulant. It felt like it was pressing right up into your pressure points, deeper than his tongue was able to reach.
You felt yourself come apart at the seams, reduced to a moaning mess in a matter of minutes, riding his tongue like your life depended on it. He stopped moving for a moment, letting you grip him by the hair and ride his face.
You couldn’t look away.
He looked amazing, fire burning behind his eyes, fingertips biting into the skin of your thighs, brows furrowed with concentration. His eyes never left yours, not even once.
You dropped your head onto the pillow, sitting back and allowing him to resume what he had been doing earlier – that thing with his tongue.
And resume it he did, assuming a more demanding pace this time. It almost made you want to cry – the pace, the ball on his tongue – it was almost too much to bear. It felt so good.
You felt that familiar coil in your abdomen, almost like you were about to cum, then in a moment’s width he had pulled away.
You struggled to regain your surroundings, vision cloudy and hazy with pleasure. You could hear your rampant heartbeat racing in your own ears.
Choso leaned back with a stretch, cracking his neck and licking his lips. The entirebottom half of his face was drenched, dripping with an obscene mixture of your slick and his spit.
He looked gorgeous, even when his face was tinted red.
“Choso…” You breathed, letting a breathless chuckle slip between your parted lips.
He grinned back at you. “Any complaints?”
You didn’t glorify him with a response, gripping him by the fabric of his shirt and tugging him up and over you. You searched for his lips, locking them between yours in a messy, heated kiss. The taste of you lingered on his tongue, tangy and a little sweet.
“Shut up and fuck me, Kamo,” You panted with a grin of your own.
That was all he needed to push you onto your back, diving back in to ravage your lips again. It was all a rushed, passionate haze – he tugged your tee shirt over your head, you shoved your skirt down to your ankles and kicked it off the side of the bed. He leaned back with a stretch to reach for the back of his shirt, tugging it over his head and flinging it to the side.
Your mouth nearly watered for him. He was everything you had dreamed of and so much more. Well defined arms, pecs, abs – a few tattoos littered the broad expanse of his chest. His torso tapered down into a thin, slutty waist. You let your hand slide down his abdomen, eliciting a quiet groan from him as your painted fingernails caught on his toned abs, ghosted over the large tent in his sweats that left nothing to the imagination.
He was big. Bigger than you had anticipated. The last man you were with was about 3 inches (which was probably for the better, because it had been your first time). He felt about three times as big as that. Maybe more.
It didn’t take long for him to flip you onto your stomach, pulling your ass flush against his navel. He reached for a handful of your hair, jerking your head to the side, then uttered against your ear, “G’nna fuck that attitude right out’ta you.”
He left you for a moment while he undid the strings of his sweatpants. You couldn’t watch. You knew if you saw it, you would have doubts.
But you found yourself looking back anyway, right as he had told you. “Wanna reach into that drawer and grab me a condom?”
“Are you um…” You swallowed. “You don’t have any diseases, do you?”
You knew you were clean because you were so disgusted by the man you had hooked up with before Choso that you’d taken yourself to the planned parenthood in town the day after to be tested. Even if you had used a condom.
Choso’s brow quirked up at that. “No, I don’t have any STDs. I get tested twice a year.”
Oh. Okay.
Again, you didn’t want to think about how many women had taken his dick before you.
“Never gone raw before, though,” He mused quietly, hand rubbing mindless circles over the skin of your ass.
“Really?” You asked.
“Is that a surprise?” He retorted, though he didn’t seem very hurt by your comment. “Can’t babytrap me.”
You thought about definitely didn’t think about Choso being a father.
“Is there any way for you to, like…” You hummed, trailing off. Your inexperience had never been more disgustingly apparent. “Pull out?”
“You’re talking like this is your first time,” he laughed breathily.
You paused. His eyes widened.
“Is… this your first time?” He asked again.
“I had sex with this one guy from my class a while ago,” You said after an awkward silence. “He was small and, like, really bad at it.”
Choso seemed humored by your honest admission, though it came at the expense of your own embarrassment. “Why’d you go through with it, then?”
“I only did it to get back at you,” You turned your head back to the pillowcase below you. With a pout, you admitted, “Thought for some reason that by me having sex, I was proving something. I was younger and stupider, okay?”
“So… you’ve only had sex once?” He asked. You didn’t realize this was an interrogation.
You nodded embarrasedly. Somehow this was more humiliating than being spread open for him like you were right now.
“You sure you want this?” He hummed, roaching forward to tuck your hair behind your ear. It was strangely intimate. When you nodded, he sighed. “We’ll go slow, then. I don’t wanna hurt you–”
“Don’t treat me like I’m fragile,” You cut him off, finally turning back to look at him. “I can take it, okay? Just answer the damn question.”
Choso leaned down over you, pinning you into the bed, kissing down your spine. “We can… do backshots,” he murmured against your skin. “Want that?”
“Mhm,” You sighed, easing into his touch.
You had waited far too long for this for something like a condom to get in between the two of you. You wanted to feel him. All of him.
Choso rolled back, slipping his tip between your fold and swiping it through your slick. You watched him, watched the way he bit his lip at the sensation, eyes glued onto the place where you met him .
He pursed his lips, letting spit fall from his lips. You watched it dribble down, landing right onto your twitching hole.
That was so fucking hot .
Then, without a word of warning, he pushed the tip in. You gasped at the sudden intrusion, feeling the burn, the stretch of his girth inside of you. He paused for a moment when the tip was the only thing inside of you, brows drawn together, breaths shallow.
It took everything you had not to cry out in pain. You had been waiting your whole life for this.
But, shit, it hurt. He was big. You felt your body struggle to accommodate him.
Maybe some prep should have been in order…
Oh well, gotta see it through.
As if sensing your internal dilemma, Choso reached down, intertwining his fingers with yours. He placed a soft kiss to the back of your neck.
“You okay?” He asked you.
No . Yes.
“Yeah,” You bit out. “Just… I ‘jus need a minute.”
“Just tell me when,” he pressed another kiss to your hot skin. “You’re doing so good.”
It took you a few more minutes to adjust to him. Every minute, he would slip in a little further, just enough to make your skin hot and flushed. You could feel him throbbing inside of you, throbbing against your spongy walls.
Eventually, you gave him the green light. And, fuck, it was like something inside of him had snapped. He slid the rest of the way in until his hips were flush with your ass. He drew out, slowly, then thrust back in again.
It felt like he was pulling you apart over and over again, snapping his hips against yours in a progressively harder fashion.
Choso whimpered quitedly, pausing his harsh movements to change pace. You clenched around him in response, something that made him double over. “Ah, fuck,” He gasped. “You feel so fuckin’ good.”
He drew back, thrusting into you once more. You felt your whole body jolt forward with a loud moan of your own.
With wild, passionate eyes, Choso pulled out again, leaving just enough room for the tip. Then, he slammed back into you. Again, again, again – he was relishing in the way you cried into the pillow.
“Fuck, fuck,” You chanted, like some sort of sinful prayer. “ Fuck me, Cho– ”
“Might not last long if you keep callin’ my name like that,” He gasped, tangling a large hand into your messy tresses and gripping it tightly.
You drew your brows together, allowing yourself to be lost in the pleasure, the attention he was giving you. What would Itadori think, you wondered, if he walked in on you like this – face down ass up in his big brother’s bed?
“Choso ,” You groaned into the pillow. It felt like he was scratching an itch deep inside of you – not your coochie, but your soul. It felt like you were made for this. “ Choso, Fuck. ”
Itadori slipped into his house with a quiet sigh. He kicked his shoes off, set his bag down on the floor, and then reached for his scarf. It had been one long, hellish day. He felt bad making you wait for him, but he didn’t doubt that you would have made yourself right at home in his bedroom by now. You were probably sprawled out over his bed, passed out or playing with his PS5.
He froze when he heard something come from upstairs. It sounded like furniture being moved around, or something like that. There were voices, too.
With knitted brows, he walked hesitantly towards the stairs. Was it coming from up there?
“Fuck, Choso,” He heard a vaguely familiar – albeit very muffled voice – moan.
It was you. You and another muffled voice.
“Choso, Choso!”
“Right there?”
“Fuck– yes! Don’t stop!”
He quirked a brow. Then, with a sigh and a dejected shake of his head, he hid away in the kitchen.
“Please!” You gasped, you fumbled around behind you in search of his hand. He grabbed it, pinning your arm behind your back and thrusting into your sore pussy from a new angle – one that made you feel dizzy. You didn’t know how long the two of you had been going at it. All you knew was that you never wanted it to end, that your mind was a blissful haze.
Your body slid up against the bedsheets – up and down, up and down, clenched fingers leaving wrinkles in their wake.
“Fuck me harder,” You pled.
And fuck you harder he sure did. His chest rolled against your backside, pinning you into the mattress and holding you right where he wanted you. Then he fucked you a little harder.
You were all but screaming his name at that point. “Choso–”
The head of his cock was bullying into you, beating against that spot deep within you that made your feet fly up, rubbing the back of his thighs as if to tell him ‘ keep going’.You gripped the sheets with unwarranted strength, feeling yourself drip and clench around him – hearing the obscene squelch you made when the two of you met in the middle.
“ Fu-u-uck ,” You cried, voice high and weak.
“Quit suckin’ me in like that,” He chuckled, though it was cut short by a deep, guttural groan as you did it again. “ Shit , you want kids or somethin’?”
There was a knot in your stomach. A vaguely familiar warmth that seemed to only grow hotter by the second.
“ So perfect, so wet ,” Choso commended you, licking the shell of your ear, peppering butterfly kisses to the back of your neck. Your name fell out of his pretty lips between a cacophony of sinful noises.
You felt yourself get lost in him, craning your head around to take another look at him. His angelic face, scrunched up with pleasure, mouth hanging open just slightly, pale face dusted with pink. Inky black hair plastered to his forehead and neck with sweat. The muscles in his chest and torso rippled.
“I’ve wanted you…” You gasped, trying your best to articulate despite the stimulation he was giving you – it was almost too much. “Since I was young – fuck .”
His hips stuttered. He pulled your hair away from your neck, kissing the junction where your jaw met your neck.
He gripped your hair to crane your head back, slowing his thrusts to long, deep strokes that had you trembling.
“The feeling was mutual,” Choso grunted, trying to keep himself together.
You felt your eyes roll almost all the way back into your fucking head, mouth hanging open, drooling shamelessly on his pillow, his sheets.
You were close. So close.
Those deep, lust-filled eyes of him weren’t doing anything to slow the train that was coming. Each thrust, each slide of his cockhead against your g-spot brought you closer and closer to the edge.
“You feel even better than I imagined,” He growled, and you nearly came right then and there.
He moved his hands so that your hips were up in the air for him, bringing his other arm around your neck to pin you there. When he picked up pace this time, you felt yourself drip – like, actually drip – all over him.
I wanna have his kids .
Your moans and pleas matched the pace of his sloppy thrusts. He was getting close, too. You could hear it. No, seriously, noises like that should have been criminal.
The feeling of being filled by him was driving you up the wall – almost as hard as he was currently driving you into the mattress. You never wanted it to end.
But, shit, it was about to.
“Choso,” You whimpered. He didn’t slow down. “Think ‘m g’nna cum.”
“Yeah?” he gritted out, breath fanning over your neck and your cheek. He reached a hand down, releasing your neck to rub slow circles on your puffy clit – a speed that felt foreign compared to the harsh strokes he was giving you, but not entirely unwelcome.
That was all it took to have you hurling towards the edge, ass jumping up and down to meet his thrust in the middle, to take as much of him in as you possibly could.
“Yeah, shit,” He gasped. He was trying to hold on for you, but you were making it realhard. “G’nna cum for me, baby? Lemme fuckin’ hear it.”
You were all but throwing it back on him, mindlessly chasing your release like a bitch in heat. The moment you got the green light, your orgasm snapped. You cried out his name one final time, arching your back all the way into the sheets, spasming wildly around him. The shock tore through you in waves.
Your hips jolted with hypersensitivity while he fucked you through it.
Choso’s hips stuttered. He twitched, like he couldn’t take another minute of this, then he remarked, “That was so fuckin’ hot, holy shit – fuck, wait–”
He slid out of you rapidly, leaving you to gasp at the sudden loss of him. The next thing you know, he was stroking himself to completion. He came with a broken whimper of your name, spurting ropes of warm cum all over your back.
You took a moment to catch your breath. He did the same. A few moments, actually.
The silence that followed was deafening. He groaned, running a shaky hand through his hair. You collapsed into the bed.
He had left the bedside at one point, though only for a moment before he returned with a warm wash rag. He cleaned his love paint off of your spine.
Then, tossing the rag into his hamper, he collapsed next to you.
You chuckled breathlessly, throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him with all of the strength you had left in you (not much). “Shit…”
“Shit,” he agreed, licking his lips. “You were great.”
“You were better,” You said. “I don’t think I’ll be able to walk home tonight, though.”
Choso shrugged. He reached down, pulling the covers over the two of you. “Sleep here, then.”
Sleep here.
You recalled many nights of him walking girls to the door. Choso never let girls stay the night.
He wants me to spend the night with hiim.
You laughed, reveling in the irony of it all. Years and years of pining led you here, to this. “What would Itadori think?”
Choso threw an arm over your waist, pulling you closer to his side. “Fuck what Itadori thinks.”
Your world went black a moment later.
Your eyes fluttered open as you lay in the aftermath of a steamy evening with the man of your dreams. Choso, your best friend’s brother. The one you had fucked.
His lips were pressed into the slightest pout. You watched him snore, taking note of how peaceful he looked while he slept, taking note of the way his tousled black hair fell into his pretty face.
With a contented sigh, you reached for a shirt that lay nearby – his shirt. The one he had taken off yesterday. You slipped out from beneath the covers, padding quietly out of Choso’s bedroom. Your feet were quiet against the wooden steps.
As you entered the living room space, you contemplated sneaking into the kitchen in search of some much-needed sustenance. It had to have been later in the afternoon at that point – you assumed that you and Choso had been sleeping for a few hours, at least. Your stomach grumbled in agreement.
Just as you were about to step into the familiar kitchen, however, you froze. There, sitting at the table, munching on a Kit Kat bar like it was no one’s business, was her best friend.
Itadori.
“Hey…” You said rather awkwardly, heart racing. “You’re… you’re home.”
Itadori quirked a brow, looking you up and down curiously. His eyes noticeably lingered on your neck, right were you had a sneaking suspicion Choso had marked you with his lips and teeth.
“Hey,” He finally said. “You two finally done up there?”
“You heard that. Of course you did,” You sighed, dropping your stiff arms and plopping into the stool next to him at the kitchen island. You faceplanted into the cold surface, groaning, “How much did you hear?”
“Enough to know my brother’s good in bed,” Itadori took another bite. He placed a heart over his chest, feigning an exaggerated cry of, “ Choso– oh, Choso, don’t stop, I’m cu–”
“He told me you weren’t coming home,” You groaned, even louder this time. You were glad that Itadori couldn’t see the nasty shade of red that had painted your features.
“He lied,” Your best friend chuckled, crumpling the wrapper of his Kit Kat bar and tossing it in the trash bin. He stood off, dusting his hands on his pants, reaching for his phone. Then, like nothing had happened, he said, “I’m ordering Chinese. You want?”
You raised your head at that, taking a slow glance at the room around the two of you. “I could go for some beef and broccoli…”
You loved the bond you had with Yuuji. Unbreakable, truly. Sometimes a little toocomfortable. This was, undoubtedly, one of those times.
Itadori dialed a few numbers into his phone. He paused, raising his brow again, “I think you’ve had enough meat tonight, don’t you?”
“Shut the fuck up,” You sighed, though you laughed a bit at his joke.
Images of Choso flashed through your mind. The image of him spitting on the tip before slipping it in. The image of him tangling a fist in your hair, craning your head back to look at him while he pounded you into the mattress.
With a faint smirk of your own, you remarked. “You’re probably right. I should save room for all of the meat I’m gonna be eatin’ tonight after you go to bed.”
“Please shut up,” Itadori sighed, running the palms of his hands over his exasperated face. With a shake of his head, he held the phone up to his ear. “I really don’t want to think about my brother putting his dick in you. Not while dinner is also in the question.”
You shrugged. Your phone buzzed. Turning it over, you read the new message you had received.
CHOSO just now
Whered u go beautiful
Your phone chimed a second time.
CHOSO just now
Steamed dumplings n fried rice plz
You turned the screen over with a grin, telling Itadori. “Your brother wants steamed dumplings and fried rice.”
“I’d say fuck my brother, but tonight’s game night and I don’t want you taking that literally,” Itadori sighed. Still, he unmuted himself, telling the woman on the other side of the phone, “Another order of fried rice and dumplings, too, please.”
Yuuji Itadori really was the best friend a girl like you could ask for.
a/n: hi there my little steamed dumplins <33 lmk what u thought!!! I love reading ur comments and dms. again, this is a one shot, but I would totally drop another part if yall would like -- gotta show papa choso some love. comment and lmk what u think pookiesss
comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated!!
I obviously do not own jjk or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.
taglist: @missphanosaur18 ,
wanna join the ' choso kamo ' taglist?| bfb; chapter index
#notiddygxthgf ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚#choso kamo#kamo choso#choso#choso jjk#choso x reader#choso kamo x reader#choso kamo x you#choso x you#chousou#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#yuuji itadori#itadori x reader#geto x reader#gojo x reader#choso smut#choso fluff#jjk x reader
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Hello! I'm not sure if you'll be interested in writing something like this, but if your requests are open (and if you're interested), would you be willing to write some fluffy stuff? An Alastor x Shy/anxious reader, perhaps?
a/n: hello!! i'd love to write some alastor comfort fics based off shy/anxious readers but for now here's some good ol' fluff for the soul ♡ (with a mentioned quieter/shy reader)
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You can always tell when Alastor's smiles are forced.
It's the subtle twitch of his eye, the annoyed little glare he'll stare into empty space with, the way his jaw gets so taut you're afraid it'll snap.
Quiet and observant, you've made it your personal duty to learn Alastor inside and out without stepping on his toes—watching how he grows increasingly annoyed with every brazen sex joke beat into his head from a distance but never actually having the nerves to talk to him.
You think you can read all his little tells by now. How his antlers get a little bigger with every huff of indignation. How his mind is never in the room (he's got a lot of souls screaming in his ears, after all. You learned that, too).
You thought you knew him just by watching, but you were wrong. Dead wrong. Alastor is an enigma, truly one of the great mysteries of Hell. You were foolish to think you could understand even half of him.
He's all bared fangs and glowing eyes right now, a hand squeezing your hip and the other tracing down your face. Waltz music faintly fills the lobby of the hotel where you both stand, but it feels like a million miles away when the static from the Radio Demon is sizzling in your ears.
His smile is impossibly relaxed, not an ounce of irritation in his expression that you've gotten so used to seeing all over his face. You can't comprehend this, can't understand why he's looking at you so softly and cradling your face with so much care.
It's bad enough that he had asked you to dance with him in the first place, and that you'd squeaked out a "yes" before considering the implications of that. He knew you were shyer than the rest of your friends here—perhaps he had been suspicious of you and wanted to get a closer look.
A dreadful chill runs up your spine and you shudder pathetically, eyes screwing shut as you await whatever fate will befall you in the hands of an Overlord.
But your judgement never comes.
Instead, his thumbs gently pull at your cheeks in opposite directions. When your eyes fly back open, you're face-to-face with nothing but warmth.
"You should smile more," he tells you without his usual facade of excitement. "It's wonderful."
You just stare at each other for a long moment, both frozen in place with his hands all over your face and you limply staying in his hold.
Oh no. Oh no no no. You're certain your cheeks are hot as magma right now because of some simple flattery. Then again, you've been watching him from afar for long enough to know that he doesn't flatter just anyone.
You jerk away from him with a nervous cough, but he catches your wrist and pulls you back into his chest. As if nothing had even happened, he guides and strings you along in a waltz once more.
Annoyance, anger, sadistic joy—these are all things that come as easy as breathing to Alastor. But this is a new emotion you're witnessing, with his ears pulled back flat against his head and his eyes avoiding yours even as he dances with you.
It makes you sputter in laughter, head tilting back as you giggle at how embarrassed he seems.
"Thank you."
He softens at this, smile genuine. You'll come to know this side of him, too. You're sure of it.
You don't know why you were ever so afraid of this monster. Not when he's automatically reaching out to trace your smile with his thumb as if it's something he's always wanted to do.
(It is.)
#aroace alastor who doesn't know how to approach feeling connected to someone#🍓 faye's thoughts <3#alastor#alastor x reader#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin x reader#alastor fanfic#alastor fanfiction#hazbin hotel fanfic#hazbin hotel fanfiction#alastor fluff#alastor headcanons#alastor x you#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin hotel headcanon
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The breaking point
Part 2 of Beyond the Limit (can also be read as a standalone)
Spencer realizes that being dominant doesn’t always require him to be rough, especially when he has complete control over your body.
warnings: (18+, MDNI) soft dom spence because there’s a lot of praising in this one, reader in lingerie, orgasm control or edging, overstimulation, reader gets cockdrunk (idk how to explain it better), a little cockwarming at the end
Words: 4,3k
a/n: this has been in my drafts for a while and i finally finished it, i don’t usually do a part two for my oneshots but…i’m actually tempted to do more
You were a tease—a goddamn tease. Spencer knew he needed to work on his self-control, but it was hard to keep his composure when you had the ability to stir desire within him. It was perplexing, given that there was a time when thoughts of anything remotely sexual never even crossed his mind.
For the majority of his life, intimacy had been a foreign concept. While he occasionally felt a pang of jealousy witnessing everyone around him find love, he managed just fine without it. He suspected it was partly a defense mechanism, channeling his focus toward other aspects of his life—such as his mother's health, for example—to avoid dwelling on what he lacked.
But then all his beliefs shattered when you came crashing into his life. Suddenly, everything he thought he knew about himself was thrown away. Your presence sparked a fire within him that he never knew existed and he found himself craving the intimacy he had once dismissed as unnecessary.
He wasn't even aware of how touch-starved he was until he met you, and now it was hard to maintain that last thread of self-control he possessed. It wasn't that he didn't want to give in, but rather, he feared the intensity of his own desires, afraid that he might enjoy it more than he anticipated.
Because did he have to be rough with you for him to be satisfied, now that he had once known how it felt like? But how could he indulge in such temptation when you looked so utterly beautiful right now, so delicate, so precious in his eyes?
How could he even fathom ruining your perfection with roughness?
"Spence?" You nervously asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Your confidence was starting to dissipate as his eyes slowly traveled down your body, taking in the lingerie you chose to surprise him. Although this was not the reaction you were hoping for. "Do you not... like it?"
Spencer's gaze lingered on you, his expression was unreadable for a moment before a warm smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
"No, no, it's not that," he reassured you, putting down the book he had been reading on the bedside table before you walked into your shared bedroom. He reached his hand out, motioning you to come closer. "It's just... you caught me off guard, that's all."
You approached him cautiously and as you stepped closer, you noticed the tension in his shoulders easing, replaced by a soft warmth in his eyes. His hand found its place on your waist, drawing you closer and you instinctively fell on his lap, your knees dipping onto the bed on each side of his thighs.
Feeling his arousal right between your legs, you couldn't suppress the soft gasp that escaped your lips. "So you do like it," you murmured, a hint of satisfaction lacing your words.
"Like it? Sweetheart, that's an understatement," he replied. His calloused palms traveled along your sides as he took in the way the lace material hugged your curves.
The lilac-colored lingerie set on your body accentuated your figure perfectly. Both pieces were see-through, granting him a glimpse of your chest and lower region. The delicate edges of the top were adorned with more of the soft fabric, cascading over your stomach and back in a gentle, stunningly pretty way.
"You're so beautiful," Spencer whispered as he traced the intricate patterns of the fabric with his fingertips. "Absolutely breathtaking."
His touch sent shivers down your spine. You leaned into him, relishing the warmth and tenderness of his touch as one of his hands moved up your arm before resting behind your neck, pulling you closer to him.
His lips touched yours gently, sending a thrill coursing through your body. He nipped at your bottom lip, his touch both teasing and tender and as he sucked on it softly, a low moan escaped you. He then deepened the kiss, his tongue gently pushing into your mouth, and you kissed him back eagerly, your lips moving in perfect sync with his.
When he finally pulled away, you were left breathless, but he didn't stop giving you attention. His mouth made its way down to your neck, his lips trailing soft kisses along your skin and you couldn't help but arch your back, offering yourself to him completely. He then sucked on the spot below your ear, his lips creating a deliciously pleasurable sensation that made you moan softly in response.
You could feel his smile against your skin as he continued to travel further down, his lips leaving a trail of heat along your neck and collarbone. At the same time, his fingers pulled down the strap of your lingerie top, the material gracefully falling down your body, revealing more of your skin.
"Beautiful," he whispered as if it was the first time he laid his eyes on you, even if the two of you lost count long ago. His name slipped from your lips the moment his wide palms were pressed to your breasts, kneading the soft flesh and your nipples hardened beneath his touch.
Your mouth hung open in a silent gasp, and your breathing quickened in response when his thumb traced over your sensitive peak, sending electric sparks of pleasure coursing through your body. Spencer watched the way your eyes widened with desire, his own filled with a hunger that mirrored yours. And when he leaned closer, wrapping his soft lips around it, you were instantly gone.
The sensation sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, eliciting the most sinful sound you weren't even aware of making. It was like music to his ears, fueling his desire to please you even more. He continued to suck on your skin, giving the same attention to each breasts, his movements growing more fervent with each passing moment.
When he felt your hips bucking against his, he let out a low, guttural groan of pleasure. He softly drew back your nipple, your supple skin following his pull before he released it with a soft pop. Your skin glistened from his saliva, and honestly, Spencer had never seen such a splendid sight before.
The way you were grinding against him over his cotton pants frantically sent a surge of desire coursing through his veins. He could feel the thin fabric of your sheer panties pressing between your cunt, and with each movement, he could see glimpses of soft, bare skin glistening under the light, driving him wild with longing.
A primal need surged within him, a need to devour you, to lose control and indulge in the raw intensity. He craved to run his rough hands along your body, to explore every inch of your skin and claim you as his own. But he couldn't—not when you were the one in control as you sought pleasure in the way your hips moved against his.
So instead, his hands found purchase on your hips, guiding you to move faster. "That's it, sweetheart," he encouraged, his voice thick with desire. "Keep going."
You obeyed, pressing your aching heat against his cock, rolling your hips rapidly as a whimper of his name escaped you. You felt yourself growing hot and needy, your arousal dripping through your panties to coat his flesh beneath you, soaking through fabrics.
"Look at how wet you are," he mused, his voice laced with desire as he observed your flushed state and the evidence of your arousal staining the fabric between you. "Does this feel good?"
Your only response was another desperate moan, your body consumed by the overwhelming pleasure of being with him. What started lazy and slow soon turned into sporadic thrusts as you tried to cling to any friction. Your breath came in short, shallow gasps, and your body quivered with a delicious ache. It was too much, but at the same time, it wasn't enough.
"I need to feel you," you breathed out quickly, and before he could register what was happening, your fingers were pulling down his pants frantically. Sensing your desperation, he was quick to push the fabric down as his cock sprung free.
You bit down on your bottom lip as you lift your hips above him, taking him by the base with one of your hands while the other pushed the material of your panties to the side. He groaned when you pressed the tip of his cock to your dripping entrance.
"Are you sure?" he asked, his concern evident in his voice. Spencer always made sure you were fully ready, either with his fingers or mouth—or even with your own fingers. But you were already wet enough, and you couldn't wait any longer to feel him inside you.
You nodded eagerly, the need for him overpowering any hesitation. "Please," you begged, your voice pleading and desperate. "I need you now."
Both of you watched in awe as his girth stretched your clenched walls, the sensation of being filled to the brim overwhelming your senses. It wasn't the first time this happened, but it felt like a new sensation each time, and you found yourself instinctively clenching around him, eager to feel him even deeper inside you.
"Fuck," you whimpered, allowing yourself a moment to adjust to his size. His grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as you squeezed yourself around him. With a slow, deliberate motion, you lifted your hips, feeling him ease out of you, only to lower yourself onto him again.
The sensation of him sliding back inside you made you gasp, a rush of pleasure washing over you as you took him deeper. His groan reverberated through your body, sending waves of ecstasy coursing through you. As his head fell back against the headboard, you couldn't help but whimper, the words tumbling from your lips without much thought.
"You fill me up so good," you confessed, your voice laced with desire as you rolled your hips against him. Your hands slipped under his shirt, feeling his soft stomach clench underneath your fingertips with every upstroke of your hips. "Take this off, baby."
With a low growl of approval, Spencer complied, swiftly removing his shirt and tossing it aside. Without hesitation, your hands trailed over his chest, reveling in the sensation of his smooth skin beneath your fingertips, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your touch.
He watched you intently, captivated by the raw display of pleasure that painted your features. The way your face twisted in ecstasy, the way your mouth hung open in silent gasps, the way your breasts bounced with every movement—all of it drove him to the edge of his self-control.
As you quickened your pace, he felt his restraint slipping away, the urge to claim you completely becoming increasingly difficult to resist. Each time you clenched around him, it became harder for him to hold back. And as always, you could tell. You could feel the tension in his grip on your hips, the way his fingers dug into your flesh with a possessive urgency.
You slowed your hips, bringing your hand to his cheek, forcing him to look at you. "You're doing it again."
His gaze met yours, filled with a mixture of desire and frustration. He knew exactly what you were referring to. "I... I can't help it. You drive me crazy."
"I know that," you responded, stilling for a moment as you kept him buried deep inside you. "I just need you to do something about it."
He slowly shook his head. "I don't want to hurt you."
"You won't," you assured him, your voice filled with confidence as you leaned closer, bumping your nose against him seductively. "Come on, I know how much you want to be in control."
When he didn't respond, you pushed him even further, your lips tantalizingly close to his as you whispered your seductive taunt.
"I know you want more," you teased. "Don't you want to take control? Lie me on my back and fuck me until I can't think anymore? Until I beg you to stop while you use my body over and over again?"
"Don't tempt me," he choked out, his voice thick with longing and restraint.
But you weren't finished yet. "Yeah?" you challenged, your tone daring as you buried your hand in his disheveled, sweaty hair. "Then I dare you to."
You tugged on his roots.
"Fuck me, Spencer." You nipped on his bottom lip. "Fuck me real good."
His breath caught in his throat at your bold words, his heart pounding rapidly. With a shaky exhale, he met your gaze, the intensity in his eyes burning brighter than ever before.
And then, in a sudden surge of boldness, he surprised you, flipping you onto your back as you let out an amused squeal. But your laughter was quickly drowned out by the heat of his lips crashing down on yours.
He kissed you feverishly, with a messy and desperate hunger that left you breathless. He clung onto you as if you were the very air he needed to survive. He was devouring you as if you were the most delicious meal he had ever encountered, and he savored every moment, every sensation, swallowing your desperate moans.
And then he pulled out and you whimpered at the loss but any hint of disappointment vanished as you watched him shed his last piece of clothing. Then with deliberate slowness, he reached for your panties, his eyes locked on yours as he dragged them up your leg, savoring the sight of the damp fabric clinging to your skin.
When he finally discarded it on the floor, he wasted no time in grabbing one of your legs. With deliberate tenderness, he began trailing soft kisses along the inner part of your thigh, each gentle press of his lips sending waves of pleasure radiating through your body. Your breath quickened as you watched him, your heart pounding in your chest.
"I'm not going to be rough," he whispered, his voice low and husky, his eyes never leaving yours as he planted soft kisses right at the edge of your drenching heat, teasingly close to where you craved him most. He then crawled over your body, settling himself between your legs, his gaze locked on yours.
"But I am going to use you," he murmured, his words sending a thrill of excitement coursing through you. "You'll let me do that, won't you?"
As he hovered above you, his weight supported by his arms, you watched a strand of his outgrown hair fall over his eyes. With a gentle touch, you reached out and tucked it behind his ear, a soft smile playing on your lips as you nodded in response.
"Say it," he urged. "Tell me you're mine to use."
You met his gaze, your own eyes dark with longing and anticipation. "I'm yours," you whispered, and when you felt his tip pressing into your entrance once again, you gasped. "I-I’m yours to use."
In one swift motion, he filled you again with a hard thrust that had you arching your back, a strangled moan escaping your lips as pleasure surged through you. "S-Spence..."
"Good girl," he praised, his words sending shivers down your spine as he kissed your cheek. His hips began to roll into you, setting a rhythm that drove you wild. "My good, pretty girl."
You whined in response, the sound music to his ears as he continued to thrust into you at a steady rhythm. He relished the way you responded to him, the way you surrendered to the pleasure he was giving you. He wanted to use the way you were satisfied, to use the way you wanted him, to take you to the brink of ecstasy.
He wanted to use you in every way possible, to make you his in every sense of the word.
Spencer never considered himself a possessive person, but when it came to you, he wanted to be the one you surrendered to completely. And in this moment, he had never felt more in control. It was intoxicating, the power he held over you, the way you willingly gave yourself to him.
That was why when he felt you clenching around him, knowing you were so close to your peak, he stopped. He wanted to draw out this moment, to savor every sensation, every sound you made, every breath that escaped your lips. He wanted to draw out your pleasure until you were begging for release, until you were completely and utterly his.
"Why���" you gasped. "Why did you stop?"
He smiled down at you. "Because I want to make you feel good, Angel," he whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "And I want to take my time doing it."
Your head fell back, and you couldn't help but bite your lip to suppress a moan. His use of the term Angel always had a way of melting your resolve, and you knew he was fully aware of the effect it had on you.
"Be patient," he chided before burying his head in the crook of your neck, nipping at your skin gently. Then, he resumed moving his hips, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. It felt incredible, but you couldn't shake the desire for him to fuck you harder.
"More," you cried out, feeling as if you were in a deep haze.
"Yeah? Spread your legs wider then."
You whimpered at his simple command, your shuddering legs gradually spreading a few inches wider. It was becoming harder to breathe from the way he was pushing you into the mattress, but you welcomed the pleasure, craving more of him.
Your hands clawed at his back, leaving crescent-shaped marks from your nails as you desperately sought something to hold onto. The intense pleasure coiled tightly in your gut, making you feel as if you were gasping for air while your head swam with overwhelming sensations.
Your moans became more fragmented with every stroke of his hips, your thoughts clouded by the pulsating ache between your legs. All you could focus on was the overwhelming sensation building within you, traveling along your body. You were so close—and then it stopped.
It simply stopped right at the edge, and you couldn't feel anything but a raw need. It was incredibly frustrating as you caught him smiling down at you. You whined and bucked your hips, chasing the tight warmth you had so suddenly been denied.
Your breath came out in short, ragged gasps. "You're evil," you managed to say, your voice trembling with need. "I-I was so close..."
"Too soon," he murmured against your lips, his breath hot against your skin as he pressed his lips to yours. "Just imagine how good it'll be once I finally let you come."
Spencer then slowly pulled away, his eyes tracing every detail of your trembling form—the way your mouth was slackened open, the way your hair sprawled across the sheets, the way your eyes fluttered closed yet struggled to remain open. He noticed them glistening with unshed tears, on the verge of falling, and a pang of guilt tugged at his heart.
He knew he was pushing you to your limits, but he couldn't help himself. He was simply using you, just like you asked him to. But seeing the tears welling in your eyes, a wave of tenderness washed over him, and he leaned down to kiss them away, whispering soft words of comfort.
"Shhh, it's okay," he murmured. Although his words were spoken softly, there was nothing gentle about the way he continued to fuck you. "You can take it. Hold on a little bit longer, I promise."
A choked sob escaped you as he pressed soft kisses to your cheeks, murmuring soothing words. One of his hands reached between you, settling on the lower part of your stomach before pressing down gently as he felt the outline of cock moving inside you. He let out a groan, overwhelmed by the sensation.
"That’s it, Angel," he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. "You're taking me so well."
You whimpered almost pathetically as everything started to blur. You were a sweaty mess, both of you were, his skin gliding along yours effortlessly as he continued to thrust into you. The sound of wet skin slapping against each other filled the room, so sticky, so messy, but you didn't care. All that mattered was the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body, driving you closer and closer to the edge.
The throbbing between your legs was starting to burn, but at the same time, it felt so good—the way he was stretching you, the way you could feel him moving in and out of you. Every stroke sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, it was all too much but also not enough.
"S-Spence..." you whined, your head spinning with pleasure, almost too delirious as drool seeped down the corner of your lips. "Pl-Please, I-I can't—"
A soft chuckle escaped him as he watched you struggle to form coherent words. "Alright, alright, I got you," he murmured reassuringly. "On three now. Can you be a good girl and come at the count of three?"
You nodded weakly. "Yes, yes," you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of your ragged breaths.
"That's my girl," he praised, his voice filled with satisfaction. "One..."
Your breath hitched as anticipation built within you. Obscene wet noises filled your ears as he continued to fuck you, and with each number, his thrusts grew more deliberate, more intense.
"Two..."
You whined and he swallowed your moans, capturing your mouth in a deep, passionate kiss. You couldn't form any coherent words. You couldn't even think. It was too fucking much and you were on the verge of your breaking point.
And then, on the final count, he drove into you with such force that it sent you hurtling over the edge, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed over you.
"Three," he whispered as he pulled back slightly, a string of saliva connected your parted mouths.
You gasped, holding onto him tightly as waves of pleasure consumed you. Your senses overwhelmed, your vision blurred with white-hot intensity, and tears leaked from the corners of your eyes as you teetered on the edge of overstimulation.
T-Too much—You can't. You fucking can't.
The sensation never seemed to end and you found yourself surrendering to it, your mind going blank. It was as if you were intoxicated by the heady sensation, your senses dulled and heightened all at once, drunk on his touch. Your body felt so wet, so sensitive, so overwhelmed by the sheer force of your climax.
And when you thought it couldn't get any more intense, he proved you wrong by rutting his hips even harder with so much force as he chased his own high. He tucked his head in your neck, his hot breath fanning across your skin as he moaned into your ear. With a few final thrusts, he drove into you deeply, his body tensing as he released himself inside you.
You were tired, so overwhelmingly spent, and as you both came down from the high, you gasped and trembled, your body finally relaxing from the pent-up tension. Your eyes felt glassy and unfocused, blinking slowly as you registered his murmured praises against your neck and shoulder.
He gently pulled away, and you winced as you felt him still throbbing inside you. Slowly, he searched for your eyes, his gaze filled with tenderness, and sighed in relief when you looked up at him with a tired yet blissful smile on your lips.
He smiled softly, relieved by your response. "You're okay."
You nodded, still feeling a bit dazed. "Hmm," you murmured, running your fingers along his damp hair. "I'm more than okay."
He leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "You did so well," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. "I'm so proud of you."
You giggled. "Me? I never thought you could be tempted to do that so easily."
He chuckled softly, brushing his nose against yours. "You have that effect on me," he confessed. "Besides, it's hard to resist you."
"I am pretty irresistible, aren't I?"
"Absolutely," he replied as he brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face. He shifted his weight and started to pull out, only for you to wrap your legs around his waist, locking him in place.
"No, no," you pleaded. "Stay inside me for a while."
He paused, looking down at you with a smile. "We need to clean up."
"And we will." You ran a hand over his shoulder. "Just... give me five minutes."
He sighed, his resolve melting under your pleading gaze. "Alright, five minutes," he agreed, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. "But then we really need to clean up."
You responded with a soft hum, snuggling closer to him as he shifted toward the empty space on the bed. With a gentle gesture, he pulled you on top of him, enveloping you in his arms as you sprawled across his body.
You let out a sigh, tucking your face into the crook of his neck with the rhythm of his heart beating against your own. And as you savored the sensation of him still pulsing inside you, you smiled peacefully—you have never felt so complete.
I'm tempted to turn this into a series of one-shots where he and Reader explore new kinks together... or like how they try to navigate their relationship. I'm really, really tempted.
#gifwriting#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fic#spencer reid x fem!reader smut#spencer reid#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x female reader#spencer reid x fanfiction#spencerreid#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid fluff#Fanfiction
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Stay With Me
Pairing: Lando Norris x reader
Warnings: none
a/n: sequel to Try Me; in this one Carlos' appendix and Lando's crash happened at the same time
"Guys, don't let him fool you. He was horrible to me when we were kids" You joked taking a sip of your beer.
"That's one big fat lie you just said" Carlos defends himself.
"I'm sorry y/n, but I just can't believe that, he's so protective of you, you know just like an older brother should be" Kika commented on your accusations.
"Well he sure wasn't like that when we were little. One time he slammed me so hard against the door that I almost broke my hip! I was bleeding!" You say making everybody's jaws drop and listen carefully to what was coming next.
"Slammed you..I didn't slam you, I pushed you a little and then you threw yourself against the door just to make me look bad" Carlos rolled his eyes at you as you mockingly mimicked his words.
"You scarred me for life! Literally! I still have a scar from the cut!"
"What cut?" Lando asks coming back from the toilet and taking a seat between you and Charles.
"We were just talking about how Carlos was violent towards me when we were kids..so much that I have a visible scar because of him!" You explain.
"Oh the one on your right hip?" Lando blurts out and at that moment everyone falls silent staring at the two of you.
It was a calm relaxing night. Kika, Pierre, Charles, Carlos, Lando and you were hanging out on a yacht. You were drinking a little, talking, laughing, the music was playing in the background and you were all enjoying a race free weekend.
Somehow you got on the topic of your and Carlos's childhood so you decided to tell them some interesting stories. Lando didn't know about the story you just told them, but of course he saw the scar on your hip the first time he saw you naked. He traced it with the tips of his fingers and even kissed it before going down on you multiple times..
"How would you know that she has a scar on her right hip?" Carlos asks furrowing his eyebrows at him. Your breath caught and your heart rate quickened. No one said a word waiting with wide eyes for one of you to give an explanation.
"I-I.." Lando stammered glancing at you. Both of you were so caught off guard that you didn't know with what lie to come up with. You kinda knew there was no going back from this now. There was no point in lying actually because none of them were stupid. Everybody knew how he must've found out, but still, you couldn't believe your brother was going to find out this way about you two.
"Are you sleeping with my sister?" Carlos growls angrily clenching his hands.
"Carlos, calm down okay? I can explain-" Lando tries, but is soon cut off by Carlos getting up from his seat and gripping the collar of Lando's shirt.
From a pleasant and relaxing evening, things quickly got out of hand. Kika and you both let out a scream as Carlos pounced at Lando and Charles and Pierre quickly intervened pulling Carlos away.
"Carlos, stop!" You shout your chest quickly rising up and down as you stood in front of Lando who put his hands on your shoulders to calm you down because he could feel how scared you were.
"What are you doing?! Get your hands off her!" But Carlos was seeing red. He was so angry that one of his friends disobeyed his rule about staying away from his little sister.
"Stop it right now! Yes, Lando and I have been seeing each other for quite some time now and there's nothing you can do about it!" You declare confidently, but quickly blinking to stop the tears from rolling down your cheeks. You were disappointed and embarrassed with the way he overreacted. He acted as if Lando was a drg dealer or something not his friend. You always knew all Carlos wanted was to protect you and your feelings, but this was completely unnecessary.
"Estas loca o que?!" Carlos snaps at you. "There's no way I'm gonna approve of that!" Are you crazy or what?
"I don't care! You don't get to tell me what to do with my life! Stop treating me like a child! I don't need you to protect me!" You bark back frustration bursting out of you. "Besides, Lando is your friend! What is wrong with you to act like this?"
"Baby, calm down, please.." Lando mumbles quietly, but loud enough that Carlos hears him too.
"This..this is the last time you see her. I don't ever want you around her ever again."
But of course it wasn't like that. You weren't even thinking about breaking things off with him. You two cared about each other way too much to let it all go to waste. Although you agreed to let the situation settle down a bit so you didn't see each other for 2 weeks, until the next grand prix in Las Vegas.
You missed him. You weren't used to not seeing him for more than 3-4 days, and now it's been more than 10 days since you last saw each other. You missed his touch, you missed his kisses, his warm hugs that always made everything bad go away. And he missed you too, even more than he thought he would. He realized in that relatively short period of time that he doesn't want to be without you anymore. He also realized that, to him, nothing will ever make sense if you're not there.
You took the opportunity and went with Carlos to Las Vegas to be as close to Lando as possible even though Carlos never let you out of his sight. Since Carlos got his appendix removed two days before the grand prix, he wasn't able to race so you two were following the race from the Ferrari garage.
You were feeling kinda strange that day. You couldn't explain it, but your gut feeling was telling you that something was just off that day.
You had a great need to go to Lando before the start of the race and tell him how much you miss him and how much you are in love with him. But since you didn't want to cause problems with your brother who came out of the operating room two days ago and was still in pain, you decided to keep everything you desperately wanted to say to yourself.
Everything about your gut feeling became clear as a day when while following the race you saw a McLaren car snap out of control and heavily crash on the third lap of the race.
Your heart dropped and your legs went numb looking at the screen before you.
"No.." You whisper to yourself putting your hands over your mouth and turning to your brother who went pale. "Is-is that Lando?" You ask, your voice breaks as Carlos pulls you to him and wraps his arms around you.
"Shh, he's going to be fine, okay? Everything's going to be alright." Carlos eyes were stuck on the screen as he was comforting you rubbing your back and you cried into his chest.
All the worst possible scenarios went through your head at that moment. The very fact that you could lose him scared the life out of you and you didn't even get to call him yours yet. You couldn't bear it.
"I need to see him. I want to be by his side." You said and Carlos just nodded. All the anger and rage quickly evaporated from him when he saw his best friend crash.
When Lando was taken for precautionary checks in the University Medical Center, you were in his driver's room pacing back and forth waiting for him or any kind of information about him. And then finally, after what seemed like years later, there he was entering the room after being told that you were there waiting for him.
"Lando.." You stopped in tracks at the sight of him in front of you before running into his arms. "You scared me so much you don't even know.." You said leaving gentle kisses over his cheeks, jaw and lips.
"I'm here, baby, it's okay" He said burying his face into the crook of your neck inhaling your scent as his arms tightened around you.
"I missed you, I missed you so much.." You say sobbing.
"I missed you too. I couldn't concentrate on anything, I just kept thinking about you the whole time" He admits looking deep into your eyes wiping your tears away with his thumbs. "Will you stay with me tonight?"
He didn't even have to ask. There was no force that would separate you from him anymore. From now on it was two of you together through everything and anything.
"I'll stay with you forever, baby" You smile softly as he leans his forehead against yours.
"I'll hold you to that"
#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando x reader#lando norris smut#lando norris#lando norris fanfic#carlos sainz#charles leclerc#f1#f1 fanfic#f1 fic
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Missionary with the lights off
We're back in Act 1 again! I swear I'll start moving forward now that I'm playing the game again, after this.
Astarion x Tav, Astarion x F!Reader
18+, blood drinking, fluff to smut, porn with plot, PIV
Pst, don't let the title mislead you too much
Approx. 1,800 words
You woke up in Astarion's tent.
Last night had been… unusual. Something you said had soured the mood for anything sexual. Instead you stayed up talking late into the night. You hadn't even taken your clothes off.
You'd never spent the whole night together before, always opting to make your way back to your respective tents eventually, after your nocturnal activities, but then again you’d spent those previous nights opening your legs more so than your heart. Something had now shifted a little.
The last thing you remembered was drifting off with your face nuzzled into his neck as he draped an arm over you, having hugged him on a whim and finding yourself not wanting to let go. What you saw now was completely contrary to that memory, as you found yourself lying on your side, with Astarion's head pressed against your chest, right over your heart, both arms holding you close. He must have moved himself while you were asleep.
He looked perfectly at peace. It was actually adorable, seeing the prickly rogue like this.
You reached out to softly run your hand over his disarrayed curls, when he also stirred.
“Hello, darling,” you purred, copying his habitual greeting for you.
Astarion was startled, suddenly jolting up. He seemed momentarily disoriented, taking in you and his surroundings for a few moments before comprehension returned to his eyes.
“Are you alright..?” you asked. “I know it's first thing in the morning, but surely I don't look that disturbing.”
“Yes, sorry… I just… I can’t remember the last time I woke up next to someone,” he said finally.
“The night at the clearing..?” you offered.
“I didn’t sleep that night,” he admitted. “And now there's a woman in my tent and I don't know what to do. ...Ahah..! Refresh my memory, what is the protocol? Do I need to make you breakfast?” he joked.
“I’m sure Gale’s already working on that,” you grinned.
Astarion laid back down next to you, propped up on an elbow. He gave you an odd half-smile with a slight frown, his eyes narrowed. Not unkindly, but rather a bit… awkwardly. You wondered what he was thinking.
You ignored the odd look, and instead your eyes wandered up to survey his bedhead. No trace of pomade was left in his hair, instead some of it was standing on end, while other, longer strands started to fall over his eyes as he leaned on his hand, watching you.
“What is going on here..?” you laughed, reaching out to brush his hair out of his eyes. He leaned into your hand as you ran your fingers through his hair, shutting his eyes, his lips widening into a genuine smile. He reminded you of a cat that was enjoying a head scratch.
“I don't have the slightest idea, darling,” he drawled. “But I guess you have to die after all, now that you've seen it.”
“You are a horrible flirt, you know, and I don't mean that in a good way."
“It works on you, doesn't it?” he shrugged, grinning and leaning in for a kiss.
“Hmm, but returning to breakfast,” you said, breaking the kiss as his lips slowly made their way down to your neck. “What about you? Fancy a nibble?”
“If it's on offer…” Astarion purred, continuing his way down. He knew your body entirely too well at this point. His lips lingered on the exact spot that made your breath shudder, sending a wave of shivers all through you. “Where..?”
“Right there,” you breathed.
“Oh? You want me to leave my mark on you, right where everyone can see..?” he murmured, continuing to kiss your neck. You usually offered him your wrist.
“It’s not like they don’t already know what we’ve been doing, so sure, mark me...” you replied. “Mark me as yours,” you added in a hoarse whisper.
Once the words were out you wondered if it was too much, but Astarion clearly liked the idea. He liked it a lot, judging by the soft growl he let out, as he continued to trail his lips along your neck, searching for just the right spot. You knew he'd found it, you remembered where he's bitten you before, but instead of going in for a bite he toyed with you, leaving slow, deliberate licks, until you released a small moan, and only then sank his fangs in you, lightly grinding his hips into yours as he did.
Something about a vampire's bite made it quite unlike anything else. It started off as a sharp, icy chill, gradually spreading and melting into something that stung the way an itch strings right before you scratch it, multiplied tenfold. The only way to relieve that stinging sensation was to give into it, more and more. The area bitten remained tender and sensitive in the most erogenous way for a long time after the bite itself. The whole experience was inherently erotic, no matter where the bite was.
You understood why this was fetishised. You also understood how people happily allowed themselves to be bled dry.
Astarion continued to grind against you, slowly, his erection evident. This was nothing new and didn't necessarily mean anything - you’ve joked before that any blood he drank went straight to his dick before going anywhere else – which is why you usually did this privately, even when he drank from your wrist.
However, this time, you really didn't want it to just be casual. You didn't think he did either, the way he was breathing. One of your hands was caught in his hair at the back of his head, the other trailed down to his hips, squeezing, as he grinded into you harder, making you crave more.
And then it was over and you felt a profound sense of disappointment and loss, as Astarion gave your neck a few final licks and broke away from you, lifting his body from yours. The only contact that remained between you two was your eyes, as he gave you an unwavering look of barely contained lust.
The aching need between your legs had become unbearable.
One heartbeat... Two... Three...
Astarion’s lips crashed into yours.
Suddenly, without a single word, you found yourselves tearing at each other’s pants in an urgent rush to remove them.
Curse them, you thought. You would start sleeping in a nightgown, if you managed to find one. Or naked. Or steal Astarion’s shirt.
You thought you recognised some elvish curses as Astarion snarled, struggling to pull your pants off without lifting his body from you, biting your lip as you managed to twist and free one leg, the other pant leg left danging at your knee.
All the while, you’d been tearing at the lacing on Astarion’s pants, managing to undo it just enough to slide them low enough to release his pulsing cock.
You didn’t even bother with your shirts. You had a burning, ravenous hunger, and it had to be sated. Immediately.
You tugged on Astarion’s cock, impatiently guiding it towards your throbbing pussy. You had no time or eagerness or wish for any teasing or foreplay, only a carnal, animalistic need. You’d barely aligned Astarion’s dick with your entrance when he plunged himself into you, fully, with another swear through gritted teeth.
Finally, you felt complete.
There was no rhythm, decency or finesse to what followed, the only way you could describe it was mindless, feral rutting. You dug your fingers into his hips, trying to bring him closer, deeper, moaning as his tongue writhed against yours. He couldn’t be close enough - even had you melded into one you would still want more of him.
You spread your legs wide, angling your hips so his body hit your exposed clit with every thrust, and bucked into him, desperately. He changed his thrusts to a more rolling motion, rubbing into you.
“Yes... Like that...” you barely managed.
There was a commotion, a loud clanking, crashing sound and some yelling outside.
“Astarion!” you heard Wyll’s voice just outside the tent, shortly after.
"Fuck,” Astarion growled under his breath. “Three minutes!” he shouted.
Three minutes? Then again, you didn’t think you were going to last even another minute.
Astarion covered your mouth with his hand as his hips continued to relentlessly grind you into the floor of his tent. Your whimpers grew more drawn out until your body stilled before breaking into tremors emanating from your hips, as he continued to fuck you. You were holding on to his back for dear life, bringing your legs up to wrap tightly around his hips, moaning into his hand as you came.
Immediately, he changed his rolling thrusts to something frantic, grabbing your hand and bringing it over your head, and catching your knee at his elbow and bringing it up with his other arm. He buried his face in your neck, moaning, his thrusts becoming harder, faster, until he slammed his hips into you with a final groan, his cock twitching as he spilled inside you.
“Astarion! This is urgent!” you heard Wyll again.
“He’s coming!” you yelled, exasperated, before you realised what you’d said.
Your words were greeted with a momentary silence, then the sound of Karlach laughing somewhat off in the distance.
Astarion was also laughing into your neck, his shoulders shaking even as he delivered his final thrusts.
“That was-” he panted between laughter, “the sloppiest... most unimaginative... objectively worst sex I've ever had.”
“And subjectively..?” you asked, also starting to laugh as you came off the sudden high that had overtaken you.
“I wouldn’t mind waking up to something like that every day for the rest of my life,” he said, lifting his head and looking at you.
“That can be arranged,” you purred.
There was that little frown again, as he cocked an eyebrow at you.
“We could always die today,” you shrugged.
“Funny...” he said. “Anyway... Good luck with this giant mess I left between your legs. I better go see what is so godsdamn important.”
Bonus scene:
“What do you mean, I’m the only adult here that knows how to manage a needle and thread?! And how do you even rip a bag of holding..?!”
“Astarion, our fate is in your hands.”
“No, you can carry your own shit from here on. I’m fine with just my weapons and the clothes on my back.”
“We need you, Astarion!”
“At least get rid of all the junk, what do we need a dozen goblin scimitars for, they’re not even worth anything!”
“Save us, Astarion!”
“Rotten carrots, rusty tongs... Is that literally just a rock?”
“Save us, 239-year-old vampire that can sew!”
Sigh... Astarion observed the torn bag with a resigned look.
“...Would you mind mending Clive as well, while you’ve got the kit out..? He’s been through hell and back. And looks it.”
“Yes, Karlach, I’ll fix up your teddy bear too...”
~~~~~
Mark me as yours - fic re the following day
I have a whole series with these two, check it out
AO3
#astarion#bg3#baldur's gate 3#bg3 smut#astarion smut#astarion x reader#astarion x tav#bg3 fanfic#astarion fanfic#astarion romance
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friend of a friend - b.b, s.r
pairing: steve rogers x f!reader x bucky barnes
summary: steve’s girl is feeling needy, maybe bucky can benefit from it too.
warnings: SMUT 18+ (minors DNI), oral (m+f), masturbation (m), wet humping, cum play, praise, steve calls her a whore like once? language, exhibitionism, voyeurism??? slight oral fixation on readers part??? yeah okay that’s it.
word count: 2.7k
a little note: i missed the boys and felt particularly unhinged. also endgame ending doesn’t exist. anyway, it’s fuckin nasty and i’m going to hell xo
You like seeing Steve like this. Boisterous and carefree, sipping a beer on the couch. It's normal. He deserves it.
Bucky sits across from him, detailing his recent mission with Sam. Their weekly chats often turned out like this, in between a short period of reminiscing and talking about whatever game had been shown that week, it always comes back to work. There's a hint of longing in Steve's voice when they talk like this. You know he misses it, how couldn't he? Its all he's ever known. But he insists he's done, and you believe him.
You're not entirely sure where their conversation is now, having zoned out some time earlier. Sat between Steve's legs, head rested on his thigh your mind had easily drifted.
You can't help your slight obsession with Steve's thighs. Even in a simple pair of joggers, the stiff outline of his toned muscles are fully on display. Each expertly sculpted ridge shifts between your cheek each time he moves or laughs. It's distracting, more than that.
You often find yourself nuzzling into the soft material just to get closer to the part of him you love so much. Steve’s fingers catch a lock of you hair, twisting and pulling on it every now and again, the action both soothing and adding to the deep tension threatening to boil over in your stomach.
His booming laugh filters through the room, his thigh flexing beneath you once more. It’s not normal, you think to yourself as you not so subtly press your skin against him, the fabric swallowing your helpless whine.
You sit like this for most of the afternoon, until it slowly turns to evening. Desperate and whining quietly to yourself. Your thighs clench periodically, and you have to stop glancing at the clock, secretly hating yourself for wishing it was time for Bucky to leave.
You’re so wrapped up in keeping your arousal at bay, in the warmth of Steve’s thighs you don’t notice the slight lull in conversation, nor do you notice Bucky leave the room to get another beer.
Steve strokes your head for a moment, his fingers igniting your skin as they slowly trail across your jaw. He tilts your head until you’re looking at him, a small knowing smile on his face.
“You doin’ okay down there?” He smiles, his thumb strokes your chin ever so gently, but the touch alone is enough to make you want to cry. Your need for him is far beyond your control and at this point, you’d take what you can get.
You nod, sandwiched between his calloused fingers and warm thigh. He tsks quietly and releases your chin, shifting back in his seat to widen his thighs. He watches quietly as your wide eyes glisten, immediately fixating on his clothed crotch.
“I’ve been neglecting my girl.” He shakes his head a little, smile turning to a smirk as he marvels in how transfixed you are. “Does my baby need some attention?”
His thumb traces your bottom lip, your mouth opening instantly desperate to taste him. You nod slightly, lips wrapped around his thumb, fingers clutching his calf tightly. He pushes down on your tongue, slipping deeper into your mouth, groaning quietly when your throat vibrates around his digit as you moan.
That slight bit of relief is enough to calm you for a moment, but your need rears it’s desperate head and you know you need more. Steve doesn’t move when Bucky walks back in and hands him a fresh beer. He just thanks him, eyes never leaving you.
Bucky isn’t phased returning to his chair without question. The idea of Bucky spectating your desperate state should be embarrassing enough to make you snap away from Steve. Instead you suckle on his thumb even harsher, looking up at him as he sips from his beer like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
Steve pulls his thumb free, pressing it against your shining lip and more leans forward, the malted beverage heavy on his breath.
“M’gonna fill that pretty mouth up, just like you want me to.”
Your breath catches in your throat. Surely he isn’t being serious. Not with Bucky watching you both. Somehow the thought doesn’t deter you as much as it adds to the growing arousal, your cunt clenching around nothing.
Your eyes flick to where Bucky is now seated. You'd believe he's as relaxed as Steve if it weren't for the beer bottle clutched between his white knuckles. His lips are slightly parted in curiosity, pretty blue eyes dark with promise, watching you and Steve.
“Go ahead.” Bucky says it so simply with an encouraging nod, taking a languid sip from his beer.
“You gonna show him how good you are for me?” You nod hurriedly, watching as he puts his beer down, and does only that.
“Gotta hear the words honey.” His hand rests on waistband of his sweats, waiting.
“Please.” You speak through your the foggy haze clouding your brain. “Let me suck your cock, Stevie.”
“Attagirl.” He pulls down the elastic, letting it rest just below his knees. He knows how much you love his thighs, and secretly loves the way you mark them up, claiming another part of him that he gives to you so willingly.
Unsurprisingly, you press your lips to his inner thighs the first chance you get. The light dusting of golden hair tickles your lips when you suck dark bruises onto his unmarred skin, lightly tracing them with a light scrape of your teeth, earning an illicit moan from him.
When you’ve had your fill of his broad thighs, they’re littered with tiny marks and the slightest indent of your teeth in certain places.
Your finger lightly traces the underside of his cock, trailing up to the head and stroking over the slit. It shines brightly under the dim light and you actually salivate knowing you get to taste him. You marvel at Steve’s dick each and every time you see it, it’s curve feels perfect inside of you, the slight girth stretching you out so fucking good, length hitting all the right spots.
You wrap your hand around him in a tight fist, squeezing at the base just how he likes. His head rests back on the couch cushion, exposing his neck. His muscular chest begins to rise and fall slightly quicker as you stroke him.
Finally, you sink your mouth onto him, not bothering to tease him any further, this is for you after all. He’s letting you suck him off in front of his best friend to satisfy your needs, the least you can do is make it worth while.
You bob your head, alternating between long slow strokes and quick harsh suckles. Your hands tug at him, twisting around what you can’t take, revelling in his slight reactions. The way his thighs tense beneath your fingers, the way he sucks in sharp breaths and shudders out increasingly loud groans.
You wonder for a second if this isn’t the first time they’ve done something like this. It spikes a sense of jealously in your chest and you swallow him down even further, not caring that it burns your throat. Pride blooms in your chest when he grips your hair, holding you in place, groaning deeply.
"So good. So good to me." His hips flex, pushing himself against that spot again. "You gonna be this good for Buck? You gonna suck his cock like a fuckin champ?"
You moan around him when he speaks, doing your very best to take him as deep as you possibly can. Your throat closes around him as you gag slightly, the slight brush of his hair ticking your skin.
"That's my girl." His hand rests over yours, hissing when your nails dig into his exposed thighs. He thrusts slowly into your warm mouth, hitting the back of your throat softly, watching as tears gather in the corners of your eyes.
His thrusts grow harsher, as does his grip on your hair, but that hand covering yours, the way his thumb strokes reassurance into your skin keeps you grounded. You feel that familiar twitch in your throat as you prepare to take his load, but then he’s tapping you hand and pulling you away from him ever so gently.
You find yourself pouting, desperate to have him fill your mouth again, but then he looks behind you and speaks.
“Go see Buck, looks like he could use some help.” He swipes his thumb through the spit on your chin, and nods to his friend.
The carpet is plush beneath your burning knees and you find yourself crawling between the other man’s thighs. Bucky strokes himself slowly, watching you quietly with that predatory gaze.
He’s not as long as Steve, but where he lacks he makes up for it in girth. Soft veins protrude from beneath his weeping head and you’re sure if you look close enough, you’d see them pulsating with need.
You cover his hand with your own, watching him twitch in your palm, stroking him a few times in a tight grip. You lean forward and swipe your tongue across the rosy head, eyes solely on him. He sighs, shoulders relaxing, his cheeks flushed all sweet and red.
Your tongue is so warm and wet against him as you swirl it across his skin for a few moments before you finally take him in your mouth. It’s vastly different to Steve, the way your mouth stretches wider around him. His head prods the back of your throat slightly quicker, but the thickness has the same effect on your gag reflex.
You get lost in the unfamiliar taste, the slight musk that’s just so Bucky. Steve comes up behind you, tugging at your leggings, keeping you steady with one hand as he pulls them off with the other. He swipes them down, taking your ruined panties with them, discarding the soaked cotton and gripping your thighs, spreading you wider.
“God Steve, she’s a fucking pro.” Bucky’s usually deep voice is instead breathless when he speaks Steve over your shoulder. Steve chuckles knowingly, his hand caressing your bare skin.
“You hear that honey? You’re being so good for us.” You hum in acknowledgement, the praise going straight to your core.
For a moment he just stares at the slick coating your thighs, drawing small patterns across your skin. The moment is strangely intimate, made so by Bucky’s thumb brushing your cheek as he slowly starts to thrust into your mouth.
You feel Steve’s hands resting on your ass before he spreads you open, cool air against your warm wet heat causing you to sigh. He licks a single stripe from your clit, right to your dripping hole, pausing to hear you moan around Bucky’s cock before he does it again and again and again until he’s nose deep in your pussy.
You brace your hands on Bucky’s thighs. breath coming in short pants out of your nose. Steve’s lips wrap around your swollen nub, suckling harshly as he shakes his head, the friction making your eyes roll. His nose prods at your hole, and your nerves are on fire.
You suck harder on Bucky’s cock, alternating between stroking him whilst you lick and suckle on his heavy balls. You feel the ghost of Steve’s fingers against your slit, whimpering when he slides a single finger in right to the knuckle. He works you open slowly, stretching your wet cunt around his finger before adding a second, hooking them inside of you.
Between Bucky fucking your throat and Steve lapping at your cunt like he hasn’t eaten in weeks, you’re not sure you’ve ever been so aroused in your entire life. You want to whine when he pulls his mouth away from you, but the fullness of his fingers satisfies your simmering need.
“Look at you, letting my friend fuck your throat right in front of me.” His fingers don’t let up, bordering on the sweet side of harsh.
“Stevie, fuck that’s so good.” You sound as desperate as ever, lost in Steve and Bucky’s touch.
“Bet you’d let him fuck this pretty cunt if he asked, huh.” Of course you would. The thought alone is wildly arousing. Steve chuckles through his quiet grunts when you clench around him, curving his fingers ever so slightly.
“My pretty little whore.” He half chuckles, though it’s mostly a groan.
He sucks at your clit once more, fingers hooked inside of you and you’re a goner. You pull your mouth away from Bucky, stroking him instead as you gush slightly against Steve’s face. Bucky thrusts up into your hand at your loud moans that only spur Steve on, the orgasm so intense it makes your body slump against Bucky’s thigh.
You find the energy to take Bucky back into your mouth, letting him thrust against your tongue, taking what he needs.
His hips jut harshly, prodding the back of your throat. His hand moulds around the curve of your skull, fingers threaded through your hair guiding your movements. He’s quiet compared to Steve, not speaking unless it’s a quietly muttered fuck, or so good. Sometimes he’ll groan, deep and guttural, but others he’ll catch himself on the edge of a whimper.
Those are your favourite. Making a man as stoic and quiet as him whimper is soon to be your greatest triumph.
You brace yourself on his thighs, shifting one of your hands to wrap around his thick shaft. You work quickly against him, twisting and flicking your wrist, running your thumb just below his weeping head, pressing stray kisses to the bulging veins.
“Buck, put her on your lap” Steve speaks from behind you, squeezing your thigh before Bucky helps you up, manoeuvring your near boneless body on top of his thighs. The bright tip of his cock, smooth with a mix of precum and your spit, nudges your sensitive slit.
You flatten your palm on the underside of his dick, caging him in, grinding your slick cunt against him. He thrusts against you, chasing his release, resolve depleted as he whimpers into your neck. The sound alone is enough to send you over the edge. You keep your eyes on Steve as he watches your cunt writhe against Bucky. There’s a new hunger in his eyes, something you’ve never quite seen before.
Steve sits back on his calves, his fist working over his pretty dick as he watches you cum for a second time, only this time it’s against his best friends cock. He looks so pretty, with his hooded eyes and flushed cheeks all traces of his dominant nature drowned out by his desperation.
Bucky’s whimpers grow louder and his teeth brush against your skin. The hold he has on your hips tightens as his thrusts grow sloppy, and his teeth dig into your shoulder, a truly broken moan shattering through him as he cums. Ropes of white land on your mound, dripping down your slit. You can’t help but moan when he thrusts one final time, his sticky spend and your slick making a near diabolical sound
Moments later Steve, pushes himself up onto his knees, fucking his fist harshly, pushing himself over the edge with a deep, almost growl. You watch through tired eyes when he cums all over your messy cunt, faint droplets of white mingling with Bucks.
He leans back, taking in the sight of your ruined cunt, chest heaving. His fingers prod at your puffy slit one final time, swirling around in the mess three of you had made before he extends his hand to your already open mouth. You suck at them like a woman starved, tongue lapping at the digits until they’re instead slick with your spit.
A silence stretches between the three of you for a moment, before Steve stands, and ticks himself into his sweats. He presses a kiss to your forehead.
���So proud of you. You did so well.” His large hands cup your face, eyes searching yours for any discomfort. He finds none.
You watch him leave to retrieve a washcloth from the bathroom whilst Bucky presses small kisses to your marked skin and thanks you. You hum, too dazed to speak. When Steve returns, Bucky disappears into the kitchen for a few moments, returning with three bottles of water.
As you slump against the chair, Steve running a warm cloth over you and Bucky holding the water bottle to your lips, you look over at the clock again watching it tick, willing it to stop, hoping that Bucky doesn’t have to leave.
i think we all know by now everything i write sets back feminism a few hundred years. i’m very sorry and i will do it again.
#smut#marvel smut#marvel#steve rogers#steve rogers fic rec#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes smut#steve rogers smut#stucky x reader#stucky x female reader#stucky x reader smut#stucky smut
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|Bandages and Bruises| 18+
(ART NOT MINE.)
DTOnly_VL on Twitter is the artist!!
Warnings ; smut, smut with little plot, fem!reader, Dom!Konig, sub!reader, medic!reader, dacryphilia, name calling, swearing, mature themes, ect.
(not edited)
In all honesty the situation had started so innocently, you were bandaging up a cut on your favorite patient, and you couldn't help but lightly trace in his forearm, the veins there were so prominent and just begging to be touched, you lightly smoothed the pad of your thumb over them, hoping he wouldn't notice. But he did.
And now your ass was pressed into the edge of your desk, and Konig's clothed cock had been grinding into you, making you gasp and stutter. "Konig! A-anyone could walk in." You gasped, trying to slightly push away, but his large hands kept you rooted in place. "Let them, they can see how pretty you look squirming on my cock like this, Hase." He spoke, slightly lifting up your black dress you always wore, as your doctors coat had long since been discarded on the floor beneath you two.
You gasped lightly as Konig felt your wetness, and sucked his teeth at you, finding you weren't wearing any underwear. "You hoped we'd end up like this, didn't you?" He chuckled. You nodded and whined as he massaged your clit, making a circle with his thumb as your mouth fell into an 'O' shape. "dreckiges Mädchen" he laughed, lifting you up and gently sitting you down onto the wood desk you'd been pressed up against.
You ignored the need to scurry away and at least lock the door, and titled your head back, feeling Konig bunch up your dress onto your hips and kiss your inner thighs. He teased around your throbbing heat and you whined desperately, trying to buck your hips to get his attention. He smiled up at you and slowly attached his lips to your cunt, sucking and lapping at it. You whined and cried out, your fingers gripping the edge of the desk beneath you.
He smiled into your cunt and slowly moved his tongue side to side, making you gasp and arch your back almost painfully. "Konig!" You gasped, your hands now gently grabbing onto his shoulders. This felt so dirty, he was still in his gear, helmet and everything and your cunt was bare and weeping for him. He moved his tongue in slow circles, making your legs shake and your moans more high pitched as you felt your first of many orgasms approach. "that's it, Hase." He cooed, massing your clit with his thumb while he still licked at your dripping hole.
Your back arched hard as you felt the coil in your stomach snap, and you let out a desperate moan, your legs had been placed on Konig's shoulders so he could get a better angle as he licked you clean, despite your moaning and whining he still focused his tongue at your clit, determined to make you cum at least once more. "I'm gonna use a finger or two, ja?" He asked, as you nodded and opened your legs further for him.
He gently removed his gloves, and lubricated his finger with his spit before gently shoving it inside your needy cunt, making you groan slightly at the stretch, you were slightly surprised this hurt, but to be fair his fingers were huge. He gave you a moment to relax, kissing your thigh before slowly moving his finger in a come here motion, making your hips jolt and your legs tighten around his shoulders. He moved his other hand to spread your leg open, and you gasped and stuttered as he massaged his finger inside of your cunt.
You whined his name as he sucked on your clit, gently kissing it with his teeth as he licked and sucked on it. You were already oversensitive as your second orgasm hinted in your stomach. Konig felt you slightly clenching and slowly and gently added another finger, making you moan at the feeling. "Jesus fuck." You whined, moving your hips slightly as he made a 'come here' motion with his fingers, touching your g-spot, making you cry out and jolt forward slightly.
"that's it maus, just like that." He soothed, his eyes trained on your face as you felt your second orgasm hit you, making you gasp and throw your head back as his fingers worked you through your high. He chuckled as he removed his fingers, kissing your cunt before standing and undoing his belt gently, bending down as he did to kiss your forehead. You whined, moving your fingers to help him get rid of the belt.
He discarded his pants and let your fingers trace over his bulge, making him blush and groan at the feeling of your delicate fingers. You pulled down the silk boxers and watched his red cock fall out, pre-cum already leaking from the swollen and puffy tip. He was bigger than you thought, making you slightly gasp at the sight of him. You couldn't exactly get a good measurement, but he was probably a little bigger than 7 inches. His cock curved slightly, making your cunt leak more if possible. You opened your thighs, letting him move closer to you. He bent down, kissing your red cheek and smiling at you.
He let you grab his cock as you slowly put the tip into your cunt, making you sigh at the familiar stretch. You were no virgin, but you'd never had much more than 6 inches. You gasped as he slowly leaned in, sinking a few more inches in. You hissed at the stretch, his sheer girth making you gasp and tremble. He massaged your hips, slowly soothing you with encouraging words.
When he finally bottomed out, you both gasped. He groaned, and he visibly fought to try and not fuck you like a starving man. He let your head fall into his chest and he slowly began to move with your permission.
He moaned out, the feeling of your walls clenching around his making him hiss in pleasure. "Fuck." He growled, looking down at your tear stained face, leaning your head back and rolling your bottom lip between your teeth. "s' okay, you can go a little faster." You whined, letting your legs tighten around Konig's hips. He nodded, leaning you flat on your back as he slowly began to thrust faster, looking for any signs of discomfort from his sweet medic. He groaned as he saw your mouth fall open and your eyes droop as sweet moans fell from your mouth.
He didn't know when he did, but he let his control slip and now he pounded into you roughly, making tears of pleasure roll down your face as you cried out, your fingers scratching at his clothed arms. "Shit shit shit!" You cried, already feeling another orgasm rush through your cunt, making you squeeze around Konig's fat cock. Thankfully he'd had enough patience and didn't cum on the spot, but his thrusts became slightly sloppy, letting you know to savor the fleeting moment you assumed this was.
You cried out, babbling incoherent sentences as he thrusted harder, grabbing your hips and tilting into you slightly, making him get even deeper as he moved with you. You bucked your hips, encouraging him to cum. He moaned out, grabbing your waist and lifting you slightly, moving you onto his cock like you were a fleshlight.
As you clenched around him, whining his name he groaned, cumming and painting the fleshy walls of your cunt white with his seed. You whined at the hot feeling of him filling you, making you sigh and moan with relief. He groaned, gently letting you slump against the table as his cock stayed rooted inside of you. He kissed your tears away, and kissed you on your plush lips, smiling when you whined into his mouth.
He slowly removed his cock and bent down, pushing his cum back into your overstimulated cunt. Chuckling as you gasped. "Maybe my cum will take and I'll see you fat with my child, hm?" He laughed, kissing your cunt before leaning back up and towering over you. "Guess we'll have to see, hm kleiner Hase?" He said.
You guessed the moment wasn't so fleeting after all.
_____
(translations)
Hase - Bunny
dreckiges Mädchen - dirty girl
Ja - Yeah
Maus - Mouse
kleiner Hase - little bunny
_____
a/n - the art is not mine, but if someone would please tag the artist because I can't find them! 🤍
#call of duty mw2#konig call of duty#konig x reader#konig#könig x reader#konig fanfiction#könig#könig cod#könig smut#call of duty#konig cod#könig my beloved#könig mw2
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