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arminsumi · 4 months

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S. Geto ★ Brother's Best Friend

Breaking the bed with your brother's best friend!

★ Requested by anon

★ Pairings : fem reader / badboy!Geto

★ Synopsis : even though he made a promise to your brother, Suguru Geto just couldn't keep his hands off of you.

★ Warnings : 18+ content, secret sex, brother's best friend trope, toys, visiting adult store, mutual m*sturbation, solo male m*sturbation, fantasies, creampie, pillow riding, sexting, wall/standing sex, mentions f*ngering, mentions bl*wjob, +++

Your brother always made sure that you and his best friend weren't alone together for too long. He totally restricted you and him from becoming friends, because he knew that neither of you two would be able to stay just friends.

Whenever Suguru had your company, he got flirtier. His mannerisms. His word choices. Compliments just spilled from his lips. He'd undress you with his eyes.

The chemistry between you two always made you squeeze your thighs together tightly.

Suguru Geto was a sorely attractive and alluring man. How could you not be turned on by him?

He had that slim-fit physique. Tattoos. A natural sultriness. That mysterious "he could be a cult leader for all I know" feeling about him.

He was also honest and spoke his mind.

"No offence," he said to you once, "But all the men you've dated are losers. All they've done is leave you with a broken heart."

You replied exactly how he'd hoped you'd reply; "I know. Do you know any better man?" you said suggestively, inching closer to him.

"I wish..." he huffed with a smile.

You pawed at his chest, "Suguru, my brother doesn't have to know about us..."

His heart beat rapidly and he felt his neck tense up.

Gently, he grabbed your hands and pried them off of his t-shirt.

"No, I made a promise to him that I wouldn't mess around with you. Okay?" he said determinedly.

Your funny little pout hurt him, because even though you tried to be comedic about his rejection he could still sense your deep sadness and desperation for him.

****

So many times during sleepovers, you had to get off on your pillow after hugging Suguru goodnight.

He was definitely being a bad boy, taking risks like hugging you when your brother was around. It earned a tense response from your brother, but Suguru quickly scurried off to the guest bedroom and acted like he did nothing.

Your bedroom was situated right next to the guest bedroom.

The walls were thin.

You could vaguely hear him grunting and throatily groaning as he pounded his fleshlight in the middle of the night.

He was most definitely being verbal on purpose, because in reality he was one of those silent type guys during sex. Suguru knew what he was doing. He always knew what he was doing, even when he wore those thin-fabric sweatpants that showed the outline of his huge cock snuggling against his muscular thigh. And all those times you "accidentally" walked in on him changing his shirt, he made his abs twitch and flex a little for you.

Suguru was always doing things in consideration of your horniness. He knew you had a hard time holding back, so he tested you — he tested your determination to not fuck your brother's best friend.

It was difficult to refrain from sneaking into the guest bedroom and hopping on his dick, it really was.

You rutted against the pillow and tweaked and pinched your nipples, chasing your pleasure.

The sound of slapping balls and lubed up thrusting carried through the wall as Suguru gave his fleshlight a heavy, sloppy pounding.

Suguru spiced things up and called out your name in a soft murmur, hoping you were listening.

"Mmm." you hummed back. He just barely heard it, but it made him grin naughtily.

He stopped pounding away at his toy, and drew his forearm across his forehead to wipe his sweat. He pulled out his phone and texted you.

📨 1 NEW

Suguru: i heard that. someone's wide awake 👀 You: yeah :( ur fault!! Suguru: my fault? how? 😗 You: u hugged me too tight earlier n got me worked up Suguru: haha just hugging got you horny? that's adorable You: stfu i didn't say i'm horny 🤬 Suguru: yeah right. bet you're humping ur hand listening to me rn lol You: nope Suguru: i don't believe u 🤨 u were totally listening. my fleshlight told me. it was pussy to pussy communication You: lol You: yeahh i was listening You: and squeezing my tits with both hands and riding my pillow 😇 Suguru: fuck Suguru: come over You: haha no way i'd wake up the neighborhood Suguru: dw i have ways to shut you up 😉

If your brother knew that at 1 AM that night, you snuck out and let Suguru finger you to your orgasm and gave him a blowjob, then he would have grilled both of you like meat on a barbeque.

But he never found out. Suguru held his moans in and gritted his teeth, and he covered your mouth with his big hand to stifle any noise coming out of you.

Suguru was turned on that he had this little secret with you.

Sleepovers became more anticipated. Your brother was confused sometimes, because while he liked having his best friend staying the night, Suguru was often over-enthusiastic at the idea.

"Oh I can stay the night?" it was the way his eyes lit up and his tone raised like he'd just gotten a hint about his Christmas present.

It always played out the same.

Suguru would be jerking off to you, thumbing through his favorited pictures — you know, those panty pictures and swimsuit ones that you wanted his verdict on. Well his verdict was groaning and throwing his head back and having a full-body orgasm.

If you were still awake, you'd whimper through the wall for him. He'd press himself against the cold wall and stroke his cock hard and fast until his balls bounced.

It became a thing.

Come the morning, the two of you would pretend nothing happened. But that knowing glint was always in his eyes.

****

In time, Suguru started drooling and obsessing over the idea of having sex with you. The tension between you and him had been reaching a peak.

Risky touches. Hot glances. Flirty tones. Sneaky sexting. Lingering hugs.

He took you out to the adult store under the pretense that he was just taking you shopping. Your brother let it slide, since you threw a fake temper tantrum about it until you got your way.

"You're such a spoiled princess." Suguru flirted when he pulled out of the driveway.

You giggled behind him, holding on tight as he rode off down the street, motorcycle rumbling loud.

He slung an arm around you in public and gave you kisses, thriving on the jealous looks that the two of you received from passers-by.

In the adult store, he agreed to buy you anything your heart wanted as long as you gave him proof that it was being put to good use.

Of course, he was buying you a toy that was as similar to his own cock as possible.

"And angel, don't get too attached to silicone. Nothing beats the real thing." he said.

"Oh yeah?" you batted your lashes at him.

When you batted your lashes like that, he snapped right there — the invisible restraints that kept him from breaking his promise to your brother broke.

He took you home, saw that your brother texted him will be home at 5-ish and then wasted no time before fucking your brains out right there up against the wall.

Once wasn't enough for either of you, so Suguru slipped his cock out and carried you to the bedroom.

****

"Su-su—Suguru! Not so hard! Y-you'll break the bed!" you said.

You were caged under Suguru's muscular body as he relentlessly pounded his cock into you, hitting deep spots that your newly bought toy surely wouldn't ever read — good. You'd crawl back to him for more.

"I don't care, let it break." he grunted into your ear.

He tried new angles until his cock pressured against your G-spot. You gasped and your moans quickly developed into stuttering incoherence.

"Fuck fuck fuck Suguru! Suuuguru! I'm so close, I'm gonna cum!" you screamed.

"Yeah? I'm close too, baby." he groaned. "Rub your clit faster, cum with me."

"W-we really shouldn't be doing this, mmm!" you moaned.

He smirked, "Yeah yeah, I know that turns you on more. Fucking slut. Cum with me and keep your pretty mouth shut about this."

Suguru brought you to a long orgasm. He groaned and his jaw went slack as he creampied his best friend's sister's pussy.

When he rolled off and caught his breath, he felt a small guilt but it was quickly smothered when you rolled back on top to kiss him hard.

"I think we broke the bed..." he chuckled.

"... oh. Shit." you giggled.

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

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chrissshub · 5 months

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HE LICK ME LIKE A LOLLIPOP!

who knew a piece of candy and date night at home could get you so…

pairings: wife!fem!reader x toji fushiguro

cw: sex mention, teasing, cunn!lingus, pet names, dubcon(?)

wc: 1.79k

words from chris: my first fic in forever! hope you enjoy and while you do, I'm gonna make baked oats :P

Guilty…oh it’s so guilty but you can’t help it.

It’s your favorite movie on the living room television but you really can’t help it.

There, in the corner of your eye is a scene so innocent but a sight so sinful of Toji eating a lollipop. He’s so mindless with it, it’s almost so cute. But what wrings that adorable sense of joy into a dry, thirsty reality is the way his lips lock around the pink bulb, focusing all his attention down to a point.

Or maybe it’s the way your ear tunes into the delightful hums he sings whenever his mouth fills with the sweet confections, all to be washed away by a single ‘gulp’.

Your thighs have never been folded so tightly and your hands have never braced the black decorative pillow until tonight—a movie night at home, per Toji’s suggestion.

How could he sit there, a man such as he be—

“Um…Toji, I thought you didn’t like sugary candy?”

Before paying you a glance, he pried the pink lollipop from his jaw, leaving nothing but the glimmering wisps of spit to drip from his lips.

“I grabbed it from the bank today and forgot it was in my pocket. Used to love them when I was younger. Why…you want some?”

“No, I don’t think sharing lollipops are—”

“Aww, why not? You can just pretend it’s my d—”

“Okay! T-Thank you, Toji. I’ll have a taste then,” you sigh, leaning towards his beckoning side.

His chiseled arm laced around your shoulder, his hand bracing along its curve. The tips of his fingers softly traced along your pried jaw. His own sights bounced between the unfolding scene of your big, fluttering doe eyes calling out to meet his gaze and the sinking of the sweetened orb finally resting along the flat of your tongue.

A wicked grin cracked along Toji’s lips, hiding his pleased whims against the curve of your ear.

“That’s my good girl. You look so pretty using your tongue fr’ me.”

“Toji!” The squealing shout bringing his grin to a full-hearted smile. Toji could simply react, his arms encircling you in an embrace and his cheek smothered against your own.

“Oh I’m sorry Princess, just got a flashback in my head. I’ll behave like I promised.”

Shamefully, you nodded to his words as you gave into his warmth.

“Mm…my turn!” Toji chimed as he pinched the lollipop stick between two fingers.

Your eyes watched as he tugged the candy from your lips and back into his own, the tip of his tongue swirling about the polished sweet.

Seconds turned into minutes and those very minutes turned into the passing scenes of the movie on the screen. Toji earned your attention far quicker than the film, a fact that he could no longer ignore.

“Alright, you’ve been watching me more than the movie—and it’s your favorite…what’s up, Dollface?” Toji finally interjected. Toji’s full attention was placed onto you, that damned lollipop standing within his thick digits.

“I…don’t know…what to say…I just…want some,” you mumbled dumbly as you stared at the glimmering lollipop in the dimmed light.

“If you wanted some more, you could’ve asked. Here—”

You caught Toji’s wrist as he drove the lollipop to your lips, the sticky bulb pecking your lips.

“Oh, I don’t want that right now. I just…since when did you eat candy like that?”

The arch in his brow spoke more for Toji than what his fumbling words could. He returned the lollipop back into the wrapper sitting on the glass coffee table, folding what’s left between the colorful wax paper. With his attention clear, Toji brought his full visage to you with a newly placed smirk.

“Huh? I’m just…I see what’s goin’ on here.”

“Hm? What’s going on—”

Before you could even finish your words, Toji was already ways ahead of you. With just a blink of an eye, he had your back pressed and arching against the arm of his couch and your chest smothered along the thick hull of his own.

It was one thing to be beneath Toji at his own whim, but bearing the heft of the accompanying stare was nothing short of stupefying. It comes without a call for regard, yet you can’t help but forfeit your attention to him and him alone.

All his fascinations about you—the wants and desires crowd about the darkening blue hues of his eyes and consume his whole being. He’s even eager enough to close the distance that much more, pitting the very thumps of his heart to fade along your enveloped chest.

All that stains the thick air is the staggering breaths plugging the lungs of you and Toji alike, growing until his confidence reaches its peak to finally speak.

“You don’t have a problem with me eating this candy—hell, you don’t even care about any of that. You’ve got that look in your eye that I love.”

“And what look might that be?”

And of course, you didn’t need Toji to tell you—you already knew. It’s that look when stubbornness and determination form the thinnest of silver lines, careful not to cross each other’s boundaries. When your eyes peer up to meet his own, your pupils grow to encapsulate to contain all that tension down to a single point.

The look of desire.

And of course Toji knows that look all too well—he fell for it the very night you met and put a ring on your finger under a year later. It’s because the second you pass those eyes his way, he can’t help but give in to you.

“The look of you wanting something. Y’know what I like to say—Whatever my pretty girl wants, she gets. So…what do you want, Y/N?”

The weathered palm of his hands brace at your waist, the pads rubbing at the supple skin as he makes a path to slot himself between your thighs.

Toji’s glare flickered, the tips of his fingers drifting along the rim of your white t-shirt.

“Hm? You know I hate mumbling, Sweetheart. But I think I heard you want some attention, right"

“That’s not what I said.”

Toji shot a stifling glare back towards you, “So then what did you say?”

A silence fell over you as you searched for the unnecessary words. Nothing more had to be said at this point, except for the couch’s springs aching out as it bared the shifting weight of your lifted hips for Toji’s subtle tug at your intertwined pair of black shorts and blush pink panties. Your eyes followed his movements, the slow pull of clothing down your legs and to being tossed out into the dark oblivion of the living room.

Toji’s cheek sank along your thigh as he waited for a response, his hands taking hold of the plush to trap you in his hold.

“Exactly, you don’t need to say or think of anything, Princess. Just let me take care of you, ‘kay?”

With a languid nod, you bit at your bottom lip as your body melted at Toji's touch.

The soft curve of Toji’s pout is the gentlest of sensations to pool at your navel and pull the mellowest of gasps from your lips. Just a kiss, a luscious one that’s carefully met by the timid bud of your clit.

But he’s only this kind with you for a single minute. And in that single minute, he’s peppering those sweet kisses everywhere as nothing as a courtesy—an introduction, really.

However, the moment sixty seconds pass, his courteous nature sheds away.

Why, once Toji makes the mistake of absorbing the poor, pink bulb between his lips…he’s a man lost to lust. He can’t help but to induce a suckling tug along your clit, relishing the swelling throbs to strum within his mouth. Just to spite you, Toji lets the bundle of nerves greet the frigid air for a second as he takes a moment to observe the mess he’s made of you.

The tips of his fingers wander from the crease of your thigh to graze at the sopping slit of your pussy, begging for attention.

“Mm, n-no hands, Toji. Just keep doin' that, please?” You broke out carefully with a hitching breath.

He shot you a glare, a particular one at that—a leering gaze, one riddle with spite.

“I gotcha, no hands tonight.”

His words didn’t settle the worry brewing at your core. He’s agreed but knowing Toji, your terms would work out in his favor.

Yet, your thoughts ran dry the moment Toji pressed his cheek back along your inner thigh. Just by the swirl of his tongue, he’s pulled you back down into ecstasy with a breathy moan.

His tongue’s been waiting all the same to taste you, making no haste to delve between your folds at last. As eager as Toji is, he’s sure to catch every drop of your essence, allowing your honeyed pussy to meld into his senses.

When he’s ready to start all over, he lets his jaw come to a slow close as he drags the flat of his tongue from your hole back up to the puffy hood. He’s even keeping his eyes glued above, ensuring that you’re watching just how lazily he reels your twitching clit back into his care.

“Fuck…I wanna touch you s’ bad,” Toji whimpers out as he pulls away for a breath. The pads of his thumb drag along the puffy lips of your pussy, his touching lingering just beside the glossy bulb. “But if my lady says no hands…”

“N-No, you can use your hands now, Toji…please,” you whine, flashing a weak yet coaxing smile towards him.

Yet, your pleas fall on deaf ears as Toji returns to his ministrations. He really had no intention of touching you—just like you instructed. It didn’t help that his eyes remained pinned with yours, those blue hues mocking your growing misery. But you truly couldn’t take it, that knot in your belly reaching desperate heights.

In the corner of his eye, Toji’s catching the rarest of phenomenons: your legs trembling in his care. It’s something he knows you try to control out of some temperance, but tonight must be his lucky night.

“If you keep moving like that, I can’t focus on you, Pretty,” he hums, pulling away from your folds with a lewd ‘pop’.

“Then I guess you’ll have to touch me, right?”

“But it’s more fun if I don’t. I mean, this is what you wanted. Got all jealous ‘nd needy over a piece of candy and now you can’t take it…tsk-tsk-tsk, that’s not like you, Baby,” his words marked with a greedy grin.

All that could chime from your blubbering lips were whimpers, the ones that made Toji smile the most. Your hands came to brace the fabric of the couch’s armrest as Toji drove back between your legs, his grip on your thighs stilling your restlessness.

And that’s all Toji did, just lick you like a lollipop.

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk toji #toji smut #toji fushiguro smut #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk fanfic #toji fic #cw sex mention #tw sex mention #fushiguro toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen #toji fushiguro #mwuah!#🕷️—words from chris!

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cupcakeinat0r · 2 months

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A Nerdy Middle-aged loser Miguel with a dad bod who teaches your genetics class.

pt.3

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Prof. O’Hara who now tutors you on certain weekdays. You two have grown close, not afraid to exchange little glances here and there throughout class.

And when he tutors you, he’ll sometimes migrate to the back of your seat while you practice formulas, and he’d rake his thick fingers through your scalp lovingly. You’d close your eyes, leaning into him, his belly acting as your pillow as he messaged your head and finger-brushed your hair. He’s speaking softly to you, going on and on about genetic variations and whatnot but you aren’t getting a single word, yet you hum ‘mhm’ occasionally just so that he feels like you’re listening.

Granted, if someone were to walk in and see you two like this, it would surely end in a mess, but truthfully, it was an innocent act. It was intimate, yes, but he didn’t think there was any harm in playing with your hair while he tutored. He just wanted to make sure his fav girl was relaxed while learning.

After he took you out to grab a snack when you broke down, you started bringing little treats with you to school so that you could leave them with him after a class or tutoring session.

Saying it was to ‘repay him for his generosity that day’ was only half of it, the other being that you had it so so so bad for your adorable genetics professor, and you found out that his guilty pleasure is sweet treats.

What you don’t know is that, really, it’s you. You’re his guilty pleasure. He gets so ruffled anytime you leave a little pastry wrapped in a cute bow on his desk. He’d look at the tiny gift as if it were a specimen, unable to do or say anything except clear his throat and fix his glasses as he blurts out a measly “t-thank you, hun!”

Miguel never knew what to do with himself with this new sweet gesture of yours (except maybe pump himself in his office just from the mere fact that you gave him something). It was silly, really. You had this serious grump flustered over pastries.

And you knew he’d surely lose his job if you made any monumental advances, and leaving him treats was the most innocent thing you could afford to do in public, so you settled for this. Besides, it’ll all contribute to his ass DadBod, so it’s a win win.

On the other hand, Miguel didn’t know for how long he’d be able to settle for this or how much longer he can play with your hair. It felt like as the days go by, you become prettier, smarter, lovelier, kinder, sexier…. It was all too much. He had an itch.

One day, the class had a quiz. You had finished earlier than everyone else, and began online shopping while you waited for the others to finish. Miguel was walking around the hall in case anyone needed help, and he noticed you were looking at a certain skirt and top.

He took a mental note of it.

You come into his office the next day for tutoring and find a pink gift bag on his desk adorned by more pink tissue paper.

“Just uh… a little something for all your hard work, mama.” He muttered, the most adorable, shy smile on his flushed face.

You were thrilled to find the skirt and top you were looking at just the day before. You instantly go to hug him, the second time you two would hug. Miguel feels a little more prepared for this one, and this time, even peppers the tiniest kiss on top of your head, your body engulfed in his fluffy arms and soft belly.

That was the first of many gifts to come, and you’d find a gift bag in every tutoring session you had with him from then on.

You’d walk into class wearing the things he’d buy you, inflicting the hardest boner on him when you do. He was like a sick puppy when looking at you, sporting your new necklace, for example. He would get stuck in a dream-like state imagining how it would look dangling, swinging with each pound of his slow thrusting into your tight pussy.

It would be slow. He wanted to treasure you, savor you. An angel like you deserved princess treatment, and he’d make sure that’s what you received. He’d worship you. He’d press a trail of kisses from your sternum down to your pelvic, looking up at you through his bifocals as he does, then removing them just before he makes dinner of your cunt. You’d cum multiple times before he even thinks about fucking you with his own cock, putting your pleasure before his. He wouldn’t be able to stop blabbering about how pretty you look like this, under him. How beautiful you are. How good you are for him. How much he wants, no… loves you. He’d be such a loser, but he’d be your loser. All yours.

His fantasies are shooed away, as well as his dazed smile when he sees someone approach you. A boy.

He seems to really like you. He’s a good looking boy. He was closer to your age. He was very fit. Miguel wants to be upset. He wants to be jealous, but… he technically can’t. You aren’t his. Far from it. and maybe it should stay that way. The boy would be good for you. Miguel sees you smile back at him. Sweet girl. You two would make the cute couple. You probably deserve him. Yea…

What was he thinking that he, some science professor who had let himself go, would have a chance with you, the most beautiful girl in the entire world?

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

A/n: sorry not sorry that I keep edging y’all, Mwheheheheheheh <3 Still, I hope u like it <3

Also, @little-lovelace , looking for this, luv??? <3

Next part (head canons)

Want more DadBod!Miguel ? Here’s my master list, bae!!!

Gna start taggin cuties, lmk if u wanna b tagged 4 next one <3

@safixiovi @mukeovernetflix @mochikisses @miguels-cock-piercings @miranexx @bunnibitez @deepdiveintothedeephive

@faretheeoscar @sillygardeneggperson @librababe99 @sariespi

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autisticlancemcclain · 8 months

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Keith is acting suspicious.

Lance is sure of it. Beyond his usual shiftiness, his awkwardness, his tendency towards privacy. Lance knows his boyfriend, and he knows him well, and as such he knows enough to realise that his boyfriend is acting fuckin’ dubious.

Lance is going to snoop. (Yeah, yeah, ethical schmethical. Snooping fosters distrust in relationships and makes things tense blah blah blah. Lance recognises that. He also grew up with fucking Hunk Garrett and His Entire Family, so he also recognises that snooping is simply the best way to gather information. Fair’s fair.)

He waits until his boyfriend’s snores start to kick up, making the bedroom sound like an illegal motorized lawnmower race, and then carefully starts scooching out of his arms.

It takes a while — Keith likes to hold him. (Lance has to take a moment to calm himself down after the thought, lest he start to giggle giddily to himself, reminded that Keith loves him so much that at his most unguarded, his first instinct is to crush Lance in his arms. It’s exhilarating.) But slowly and steadily he manages to slide out of the arms around his waist, filling the newly hollow space with a pillow, and tumbles to the floor. He takes a moment, crossing his legs and sitting next to the bed, to look up at Keith, at the ratty mess of his bedhead and wide open snoring mouth and the tank top skewed across his torso, the hickeys Lance left all across his chest and collarbones peeking out.

“You are such a shit,” he whispers fondly. “I love you so bad it makes me want to, like, bite you or something. You make me weird.”

He watches Keith’s chest rise and fall until his legs fall asleep, wherein he flops onto the hardwood, wiggling his legs through the pins and needles and screeching silently into his arm (worst feeling in the WORLD) until his legs no longer feel like they’re on fire, and then he inches himself towards the right corner of the room like an inchworm.

(It’s three in the morning. No one is awake to judge him to give him shit or laugh at him or anything. He can do what he likes.)

He pulls himself up to his knees when he finally makes it to the corner, loosening his shoulders in preparation. The room is dark, so it’ll be a challenge, but this is not the first time he’s done this. Hell, it isn’t even the fiftieth. He’s a nosy person. He could do this in his sleep, probably, so in the dark is no problem.

As slowly as he can manage, to make sure it’s silent, he pries off the metal grate covering of the air vent, setting it down gently beside him. Laying down on his stomach again to get a better angle, he reaches down into the wide tube, following the curve of the cool metal, arm buried up to his shoulder, until he’s reached as far as he physically can. He carefully starts brushing his hands along the air vent, searching, feeling. It shouldn’t be too far down since his arms are way longer than Keith’s (Lance enjoys calling him T-Rex, which Keith hates and literally everyone else who knows them loves. It’s great).

Finally, his fingers brush on something small, compact, sturdy, and soft. He wraps his fist around it and slowly drags it out of the vent, keeping it in his fist as he crawls out of the bedroom and down the hall, somersaulting into the kitchen. He heads over to the fridge, figuring that if he uses the fridge light and Keith walks in, he can just pretend he’s getting a snack or something, shoving the thing he found into his pants. Keith’ll be too out of it to question it, anyway.

Laughing quietly and evilly to himself as he pulls open the fridge door, he brings his closed fist up to the light, examining the treasure he found. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light, to take in what’s in front of him.

He gasps sharply when he processes, and the treasure slips out of his hands, clattering loudly to the floor.

He freezes immediately, listening for the telltale signs of his boyfriend snorting awake, noticing Lance’s side of the bed is empty, then the sound of his footsteps as he comes to look for him.

But, fortunately, there’s nothing. The only thing Lance hears are Keith’s continued snores.

Rapidly, Lance scoops up the box and brings it back to the light. It’s unmistakable — there’s only one thing that houses in a small hinged velvet box. It explains the shiftiness over the last few weeks, too, the nervousness that Keith has been disgusting as mysterious intrigue.

Keith is going to propose. Keith is going to propose!

Smiling so widely his face hurts, Lance flicks open the box, bringing his face closer to carefully inspect the ring inside.

It’s difficult to see in the dull blue light of the fridge, but Lance starts to cry when he sees it, because he recognises this ring. This is Keith’s dad’s ring; old, heavy gold, classic princess cut diamond, simple and polished and elegant. This is the ring Keith often wears around his neck, although he rarely has as of late, for now obvious reasons. This is the ring Keith has carried with him for almost two decades. This is, without a doubt, Keith’s most prized Earthly possession, and his intent is to gift it to Lance, as a promise of his love and trust and faithfulness.

Lance has to sit down so he doesn’t pass out. He grabs a dishtowel on the way to the floor, pressing it to his face to muffle his absolutely wailing sobs, the most ugly crying he’s literally ever done in his life.

He’s so glad he snooped. If he had this reaction when Keith finally summoned the balls to ask him, his engagement photos would be so embarrassing.

He paused mid-sniffle.

Actually.

A little embarrassed of himself, he slides up his phone, holding the ring box up to his tear-swollen and smiling face to snap a picture. He looks like a mess, but it’s important to him to have a physical memory of the moment he first learned Keith planned to marry him. He’s sure he’ll cry more over it the next time he’s feeling sappy and emotional.

He doesn’t realise how long he sits, fridge wide open, back to the cabinet doors of the kitchen island, staring in awe at the ring, until his watch starts to beep.

“Fuck,” he curses, scrambling to his feet. It’s six o’clock. Keith’ll be up in fifteen minutes to go on his morning run, Lance has literally been mooning over his ring for two and a half hours.

He runs back to the bedroom, barely remembering at the last second time muffle his footsteps, shoving the ring back into the vent and pressing the grate back onto the hole. Keith stirs slightly at the noise, so Lance abandons any thought of whether or not the ring box is positioned back exactly where he found it and fuckin’ dives for the bed, reburying himself in his boyfriend’s arms and hoping he can pass it off as just having shifted around in his sleep or something. Apparently he squirms and kicks a lot (which is a lie that Keith perpetuates to take attention away from the severity of his snores), so it should be fine. Probably.

“Wh—L’nce?” Keith mumbles, stirring from behind him. He inhales deeply, arms pulling away from Lance’s and stretching out above him. Lance’s heart pounds. He forces himself to stay relaxed, to avoid squeezing his eyes shut. He prays that Keith doesn’t notice how sweaty he is.

Keith leans over to press a lingering kiss to his neck, then chuckles. Lance can feel the imprint of his smile on his skin, and tamping down his own reflexive smile is literally the hardest thing he has ever had to do in his entire life.

“You’re warm as hell,” Keith murmurs, dragging his lips down his neck, across his shoulders. His hand comes to rest in his hip, curling into the hollow there. “Betcha you were squrimin’ around in y’re sleep last night, ya worm. Betcha I’ve got bruises on my shins.” His shoulders, pressed against Lance’s back, shake with his laughter, because he is a shithead who is so lucky that Lance loves him. He presses one final kiss to Lance’s skin and then rolls out of bed. Lance listens carefully as he gets dressed in his jogging clothes and runs a brush through his hair. He falls half asleep listening to the familiar sounds, rousing slightly again when Keith ducks back in to kiss Lance’s head one last time before heading out.

Lance smiles as he falls asleep for real, after the sound of the front door opening and closing.

He’s gonna clown that dumbass so goddamn badly.

———

Lance has a love-hate relationship with pranks. On one hand, the one and only time he was sent into an asthma attack so bad he had to go to the hospital was after he and Hunk wrapped every single thing in Veronica’s room with aluminum foil while she was away on a trip, and upon seeing her reaction laughed so hard his lungs basically collapsed. He still can’t think of that without laughing. On the other hand, he’s had more than enough cruel pranks shoved his way, and never in his life wants anyone to feel humiliated because of something he did.

He can’t not prank Keith, though. He’s literally beat Keith to his own proposal. A prank is in order.

Usually, he’d call Hunk for something like that. They’ve been partners in crimes for most of their lives, after all. Pidge too, honestly. He knows they’d both get a kick out of this whole situation as well.

But…even if those dunderheads were capable of keeping their mouths shut, which they’re not, Lance kind of wants to…well, he wants to keep his proposal to himself. He likes being in on it. He likes being to only one in on it, actually. Honestly, the only thing he wants to do is brag to Keith that he knows, which defeats the whole purpose.

He straightens abruptly. A smirk spreads across his face.

He has an idea.

———

The first step is recon. He needs access to the ring, regularly and long-term, but all will be for naught if Keith realises it’s missing. He needs to know if Keith stashed the ring when he decided to propose and avoided thinking about it, or if he checks on it frequently and stresses himself out about when he’s finally going to go through with it. Both are very Keith options. In fact Lance wouldn’t be surprised if he somehow managed both at the same time, as impossible as that seems.

To get around the issue, Lance goes Spy Barbie. He waits until Keith goes out for his weekly coffee date with Shiro and Adam and then digs through his makeup kit, setting aside what he needs and sitting next to the air vent grate. He spends a good amount of time polishing the metal, making sure it’s as fresh and untouched as it was when it was first put in its package, and then he uses a wide end brush to apply a thin layer of highlighter to the white metal. He takes great care to ensure that no colour is visible, only a slight sheen if one were to look closely. And Keith doesn’t have any reason to look closely, and since Lance knows the universe loves him, he won’t.

The next step is waiting. Lance acts completely normally when Keith gets home, if a little giddy. Keith most certainly notices Lance’s giggles and affection and the way he can’t seem to keep his hands to himself, but he doesn’t seem to mind or question it. Lance does sometimes get like this, after all.

He scored a hot as hell boyfriend. He’s allowed to be a little awed sometimes. He doesn’t feel weird about it.

He does, however, mellow out in the next few days. Keith takes him to a car show, which is fucking wicked, and somehow manages to get himself and Lance behind the wheels of two 200 horsepower Mustangs for them to race, which is so exhilarating that Lance doesn’t have words for it. He just yells and jumps around about it a lot. He doesn’t actually manage to find words for a couple hours after he totally smokes Keith’s ass, but whatever. It’s cool. Keith tried his best and everything, Lance is sure.

A week later, when Keith is out on his coffee date again, Lance gets to work. He cuts a large square of parchment paper and covers it with clear packing tape, careful not to touch the sticky side, overlapping strips so they make one giant tape sheet.

Once the parchment sheet is covered, he peels off the tape, and as planned it comes off in one large sheet, slightly bigger than the air vent grate. Again careful to steer clear of the sticky part, he places the tape sheet sticky side down onto the grate, pressing down hard and rubbing to smooth it out completely flat. Once he’s sure it’s totally stuck down, he picks at one corner until it’s loose, then slowly and meticulously peels the whole sheet back. He holds the tape, now showcasing the concealer-print of the grate, up to the light, examining it with the utmost scrutiny.

Not one single fingerprint in sight. Keith has not touched the grate at all, hasn’t dug into his secret hiding spot. He is taking the refusing to think about it route, then.

Lance smirks. He reaches down and scoops up the ring, placing the grate back where it belongs and skipping out to the living room, humming jovially to himself.

Excellent.

———

The first picture Lance snaps, while biting his lip so hard to keep back his laughter it bleeds, is once again in the dead of night, two weeks after Lance first discovered the ring. Keith is sprawled out on his back this time, arms and legs askew, sheets tangled somewhere around his legs. Lance shifts so they’re both facing the same direction, then holds up his phone camera, trying to figure out how to artfully position himself for utmost devastation upon discovery. He decides eventually on a classic.

He heads over to the dresser to pick out his cutest pajamas, settling on the red spaghetti strap top with lace and short-shorts, debating on accessorizing and deciding at the last minute not to bother except for lip gloss, which is always appropriate. He climbs into bed next to Keith, gently laying his head on his chest and maneuvering one arm to wrap around Lance’s hips. The other he leaves flopped on top of the pillows. He leaves Keith’s mouth wide open because it’s funny, and goes the extra mile to mess up Keith’s hair worse than it already is, because that’s funnier. Finally he flicks open the ring case with his left hand and holds it to his face, grinning widely, and uses his right to snap a picture of the two of them. Once he’s satisfied with it, he untangles himself from the bed again, puts the ring away, presses a sticky lip gloss kiss to Keith’s cheek for funsies, and crawls back into bed for real. His sleep is sound as a baby’s.

———

The next photo doesn’t actually happen for another month. Lance fears overdoing it, and also kind of fears getting caught with the ring, so he leaves it in its hiding spot until the opportunity for another cheeky photo presents itself.

The opportunity in question arrives when Keith announces that he has arranged to drive down to the secluded beach that Lance took him too early in their relationship to spend the day. At first Lance thinks he’s proposing for real, and to check he waits until Keith has the car all packed up and ready to go and then pretends to run inside to go to the washroom. Instead he ducks into their room and tears into the air vent, grasping around until his fingers close around the box.

He scoffs to himself. Wimp.

He quickly shoves the box into his fanny pack (fanny packs are COOL and CONVENIENT and Lance will not hear a word of controversy on the subject, they are absolutely nothing like Keith’s dweeb utility belt) and sprints back to the car. When Keith asks him why he’s smirking, Lance manages to convince him that he’s just excited for the beach.

Lance should have been an actor, honestly.

He mostly forgets about the ring while they’re there. He has enough sense to keep it in the car instead of on the beach so it doesn’t get stolen, unlikely as it is, and just enjoys the day with his boyfriend. He convinces Keith to go jet skiing with him and cackles to himself as he purposely sends Keith flying off the back of it. He screeches at the top of his lungs later when Keith scoops him up from his nap and literally chucks him into the ice cold water. The two of them make really garbage sculptures of their friends in the sand to amuse themselves. They gather ugly seashells and send pictures to their friends asking them if they’ve been turned into mollusks, since there is a resemblance. The whole day was a blast. Lance firmly slots it in his top ten days of all time.

When they go for a long walk to watch the sunset, Lance snaps a picture with the ring and a very teasing grin the second Keith has his back turned. He will bring up how this was a perfect moment to propose, and he will pat Keith’s head condescendingly about it. He can’t wait.

———

The third photo is another dead-of-night-situation. Lance knows it’s repetitive, but it’s easy and it’s funny and Lance can’t resist.

To change things up a bit, he decides not to be in the photo, and also to see just how much he can get away with.

Keith is on his side, this time, one hand tucked under the pillow, one hand held loose and open on top of it. He’s been tired, lately, and when Lance says he fell asleep the second his head hit the pillow, he is not exaggerating. In fact Lance is reasonably certain he passed out in the way down. He is KOed. He’s unconscious. He is absolutely dogged out.

The timing is perfect.

Carefully, aware of the consequences should Lance make a mistake, he removes the ring from its box. He realizes abruptly that it’s the first time he’s ever done that, despite his ridiculous quest, and he finds that he can’t quite let go of the ring just yet. The metal feels cool and smooth on his finger tips; worn, even. It’s shinier than it used to be, which means Keith has probably had it professionally retouched. Resized too, probably, although Lance can’t quite bring himself to check. The diamond catches the minimal light in the room and refracts into rainbows that fall softly on Keith’s lax face, highlighting his sharp jawline, his softly squished cheek, his relaxed brow. He looks so dorky when he sleeps, completely free of the furrow of concentration that usually resides in between his eyebrows, his resting frown. His mouth is always wide open when he’s out, and the echoing of his snores is so comically loud and ridiculous but absolutely something that Lance can’t live without. He has them recorded, actually, for the rare nights they’re not home together, on the rare night Lance has to sleep alone.

Smiling softly to himself, Lance places the ring in Keith’s open palm. He rests his hand on top of Keith’s for a moment, just because he can, just to relish in the scratch of Keith’s callouses on his skin, before pulling back and steadying his phone to snap a picture. He catches it right as Keith inhales heavily, right as his nose scrunches up.

It’s goofy as hell. It’s perfect.

———

The fourth picture is the riskiest, Lance thinks. He’s taken to carrying the ring around with him everywhere, almost as if he is the one planning to propose, just in case he has a moment when Keith’s back is turned. (There really aren’t that many. Keith faces him a lot. He likes to hold Lance hand and kiss his face, neither of which you can do from behind. Lance fucking loves his boyfriend so much.)

They’re at a Thing. Lance’s parents are celebrating their fortieth anniversary, and obviously Lance is bringing Keith, and since Keith is his mother’s favourite he is encouraged to bring his family as well, which means Shiro and Adam are coming, and if Hunk and Pidge weren’t invited then someone would cry and nothing would be right in the world, and of course Veronica is bringing Allura, and Coran comes because Lance’s dad thinks he’s the funniest man to walk the Earth. And of course all Lance’s relatives are there.

The point is that it’s a full house. A couple full houses, actually, since their neighbours are also involved. It’s a lot of people in one place.

As is protocol in crowded places, Keith is essentially glued to Lance’s side. Lance is quite happy with this arrangement, because he gets to show his boyfriend off like the hot piece of ass he is, especially to his rude ass great aunties and uncles who always had something to say about Lance and his single-ness when he was still rocking braces. So.

One thing about Keith, though, is that everyone who meets him is doomed to fall in love with him forever and ever, or so Lance has noticed. His niece and nephew are no exception, and immediately upon catching sight of their uncle — Keith, that is, Lance may as well be dead meat when Tio Keith is available, which, rude — they descend upon him not unlike a vulture may descend upon a recently deceased armadillo. Or whatever. Lance didn’t grow up in the desert, he doesn’t know what happens there.

Occupied as he is, one child hanging off each arm, Keith cannot keep his vice grip on Lance’s hand. Occupied as he is, two children talking at him in a mix of Spanish and English so rapid that Lance himself cannot keep up, which is saying something because his nickname for many years was and aptly so Motormouth, Keith cannot have his full attention on Lance. In fact, even, his back is delightfully turned.

Lance doesn’t hesitate. He flicks open the ring box and snaps a picture. His grin is nothing short of gleeful and he is entirely unapologetic.

When he turns back around, ring box stuffed back into his pocket, he realizes Nadia is staring at him with wide eyes.

“You, shush,” Lance says, and then switches to Spanish so Keith, who is still learning, will miss it, “or I’ll choose a random child to be my flower girl. I swear.”

She glares at him. “This is why Tio Keith is my favourite,” she mutters, because she is a snot who acts as if Lance does not and has not for her whole life taken her on all sorts of cool awesome amazing trips and bought her cool awesome amazing presents. Who was it who bought them recorders when they were seven to terrorize Luis with? Lance. Who was it to take them to a live rocket taking off the summer they turned nine? Lance.

“You’re a brat,” he informs her.

She sticks her tongue out at him, snickering. “Side genes.”

Lance unfortunately has nothing to say to that and also refuses to be roasted by an eleven year old, so he yanks Keith away as penance and takes him to a corner somewhere to make out. He feels very smug about it.

———

The fifth time doesn’t happen.

The fifth time is a clusterfuck.

The fifth time, it’s night again, and Lance honestly doesn’t even plan on taking another picture. He’s just next to the vent, lying on his belly, legs kicking in the air as he inspects the ring for the billionth time. He’s so excited. He can’t wait to wear this on his finger. He can’t wait for Keith to put it there. He’s can’t wait to be Keith’s husband, is the crux of it all. It’s like groundhog day except with literal euphoria. Lance is the luckiest man literally alive, and Keith hasn’t even hinted towards a plan to pop the question yet.

“You are the nosiest motherfucker in the planet, you shithead.”

Lance yelps, startling so bad he almost brains himself on the floor and nearly drops the ring. He manages to catch himself with the grace of God and also probably luck, or neither of those things, but either way Lance heart nearly pounds out of his chest.

“You scared me, you butthead!”

Keith chuckles. His voice is low and raspy from sleep, vowels still rounded from the accent that only comes out when he’s mad or drunk or tired. Lance’s belly swoops. Keith grabs Lance’s ankle and tugs, dragging him over to him, pulling him upright when he’s close enough. Lance goes into him fully, curling up into him, head tucked under his chin. Keith’s hands come to rest on top of his, sliding the ring box from him.

“How long have you known, you snoop?”

“Six months,” Lance answers. “In my defense, you were acting suspicious as all hell.”

Keith kisses his head. “Fair.”

“I need to know everything about everything or I’ll die. You know this.”

Keith snorts. He takes Lance’s left hand and smooths it flat, spreading out his fingers. “Yeah. Ruined my plans, though.”

“Oh, please. You and I both know there were no plans involved. You walked by a shop advertising ring retouching and walked in before you even thought about it.”

Keith says nothing. Lance grins and presses on.

“I bet you cried the whole time, too.”

“Shut up. I’m gonna keep the ring.”

Lance kisses him on the chest, the closest place he can reach, through his sleep shirt. “No, you’re not.”

“Mhm.” Keith plucks the ring out of the box with one hand, setting it on the ground beside them and grabbing Lance’s hand with his other. “You’re right. I’m not.”

He doesn’t move for a while, except to stroke his thumb over the palm of Lance’s hand, over and over again. Lance likes the feeling. He’s always likes the feeling of Keith’s hands in him.

“I know this isn’t a fancy dinner or sunset on the beach or with your whole family present,” he murmurs. “But I’m tired of waiting, if you don’t mind me jumping the gun.”

Lance smiles widely. A tear leaks out of his eye, dripping down his face and onto Keith’s hand.

“I don’t.”

“Good.” Keith holds the ring just above Lance’s finger, poised, ready to slide it on but waiting for permission. “Lance Sanchez, will you marry me?”

“Keith Gyeong, I would want nothing more.”

Unhesitant at last, Keith slides his father’s ring onto Lance’s finger, centring it so the diamond shines brightly in the middle. It fits perfectly.

The tears stream down Lance’s face, and he can’t for the life of him pretend that they’re not, not that he’d bother. He buries his face in his fiancé’s neck and feels Keith’s own tears soaking his hair.

“I took a bunch of sneaky pictures of me holding the ring in front of you,” Lance admits.

Keith laughs. “Of course you did.”

“I carried the ring around for months.”

“Checks out.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Lance.”

“I can’t wait to marry you.”

Keith hums, tilting his head up and kissing him properly, entwining their hands so they can both feel the ring press against skin. “No more waiting for you, sweetheart.”

———

based on this post

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trancylovecraft · 3 months

Note

Ok. But Kokushibo if s/o hugged or kissed him for the first time? Can be yandere or not. I don't mind.

(KNY) YANDERE! KOKUSHIBO x READER: Sandalwood (DRABBLE)

RECEIPT ✂- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

BARISTA'S NOTE: i love this man and his stupid six eyes and his stupid sword that could kill me and his long ahh hair and his- FANDOM: Demon Slayer

Thank you for ordering!

Come again soon!

How long had it been?

[F/N]'s head lay against the admittedly comfortable pillow, The long dejected solace being finally let in, Nuzzling the cold of her cheek further into it. How long had it been since he had taken her hostage?

Days? Weeks? Months? Years? [F/N] didn't know how long it had been since she had been siphoned under the moons eye, Taken away in the cover of night and dragged into her own personal hell and called the unwilling wife of a monstrous man?

Now she stared at him blankly from across their shared bedroom, Him, The six-eyed beast that was fixing up his kimono and settling the wisps of ebony black hair in a much more pleasing way.

[F/N] recalled him saying something about a meeting of sorts, Where or why was unknown to her and she didn't dare ask. She only stared at him from behind, Looking at all the curves and the creases she had grown unfortunately accustomed to.

[F/N] remembered how horrid it was for her at first, Dragged away with his reptilian claws trying to grasp at whatever he could of her. His entrapping, Twisted and vile mockeries of affection he tried to show to his newfound 'wife'

The way his body forced itself to entwine with hers, His hands caging her waist. It had never went that far, But it had gone just far enough to satiate the beast. The man who she so desperately hated with every inch of her being.

But even so.. She yearned for him.

Actually.. Not him exactly, No, But what he could provide. She had been so isolated for so long, Siphoned just long enough to desire for that human touch. So much so that it didn't have to be human anymore, Monstrous, But all the more comforting.

[F/N] hated herself for it, How could she, The once respectable daughter of a wealthy clan sink so low to crave a demons love? Kokushibo, The demonic samurai of the night. Her "Husband".

She had tried so long to keep herself away, To keep some part of her dignity yet..

Hands snaked around his waist. Kokushibo's shoulders instantly raised as if to lunge for the hilt of his sword, Not even lowering once his mechanical head tilted to the side, Burning golden eyes staring down at his wife starting to hug him.

"..What.. What are you doing?"

His voice was demanding and gravelly, Coming deep from within his throat. [F/N]'s arms only coiled around him tighter, Despite everything telling her no, She had found comfort in the reverberation of his song.

She pressed her face into the dip of his back, Hips pressing into his just a little lower. [F/N] took in the scent of sandalwood drifting amongst the fibres of his kimono, Shutting her eyes just to emphasise that more.

"I.. I wanted to say my farewells to my Husband before he left for his meeting, I'm sorry.." She whispered into his back, Head pressing against him like the pillow she rested on. Even though she had apologised, She didn't relent her grip.

Though his shoulders depressed, Golden hues of his eyes staring back at her, Almost widening. [F/N] didn't dare to look back at him, What punishment or retribution could come from this..

But she felt the cold palms of the demon lay upon the ones situated around his waist, [F/N] opened her eyes. She was almost terrified once they gripped hers, Pried them from his waist before swiftly turning around on his heels.

[F/N]'s eyes widened, Stepping back. She was stupid-! She shouldn't of tried touching him- Is he going to hurt her?! Lock her in the closet again or would he finally bite the bullet and slice her ne-

The cold press of his lips touched the surface of her forehead.

[F/N]'s eyes widened as she finally realised the cold hand cupping her cheek, Rough yet loving. Tough palms yet they caressed her so gently as the coarse surface of his lips remained firm on her forehead.

She should of hated this, She should've detested it-!

"..Once I have returned from my meeting, I expect you to be ready with dinner.. Afterwards, Make sure to clean up.. Be prepared.." He breathed, Husky and demanding as he finally pulled away from her.

And as soon as his lips had met her forehead, He was gone. Disappearing into thin air, Assumedly summoned to wherever he had business being. The scent of sandalwood still lingered in the air, Leaving [F/N] star-crossed and dazed.

But she loved it all the same..

#yandere #yandere x reader #tw yandere #yandere x you #demon slayer kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny #moodboard #kokushibo x you #kokushibo #kokushibo x reader #yandere kokushibo #yandere kokushibo x reader #male yandere #yandere demon slayer #kny x reader #kokushibo x y/n #uppermoons x reader

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heartsforvin · 6 months

Note

could i request a vinnie reaction to their s/o being sore the next day after their first time

SORE

thank you for the request ! i hope you like it <333

pairing; vinnie hacker x fem!reader

warnings; mentions of sex, use of pet names (baby, princess, etc), cussing, mentions of aftercare, sexual jokes, lmk if i missed anything !

summary; vinnie has a very laughable reaction to you being sore after your guys’ first time

stirring awake, you left your head off your pillow and rub sleep out of your eyes. searching around the room from the comfort of your boyfriends bed, you wonder where he could be.

your question was soon answered when you heard him mutter a curse word under his breath, walking back into his room from being in his bathroom.

his tattooed chest on full display, you blushed and bit your lip, memories of the night prior creeping back up in your head.

“goodmorning, sunshine,” vinnie said with a kiss to your head soon after. “how’d you sleep?”

you looked at your boyfriend with such admiration, loving the way he looked at you the same way.

stroking his cheek, you smiled and replied. “good, can you put clothes on, though.” you joke, pushing vinnie away from you.

he laughs and kisses your cheek. “what, afraid you’re gonna want a round two twelve hours later?” he joked.

as much as you two joke about it, it was a pretty fun night — awkward since neither of you knew what the fuck you were doing — but fun.

“just put some clothes on, hacker.” you tell him sternly with a push to his chest.

vinnie stands up and backs away from the bed. “yes, ma’am.” he tells you.

as he goes to get dressed, you attempt to stand up from the bed but only make it to a chair in the conner of vinnie’s room before falling on to it.

vinnie comes out of his bathroom in a fit of laughter, seeing you try to put your legs up on the chair.

“guess i fucked you too good, huh?” he asked with a smirk, you tried to push his chest but didn’t quite get that far.

trying to stand again, vinnie helps you on your feet, holding you by your waist. “you gotta admit, it was pretty good.” he says.

you roll your eyes. “your ego doesn’t need boosting, shut up,” you reply. “but yeah, it was.”

kissing you, he smiles once the two of you pull away, making you smile too.

the reaction you got from him was one you definitely expected, it’s what made him, him. you we’re grateful it was him the two of you shared your first time with.

vinnie puts you on the bed and grabs a t-shirt and a pair of your jeans from an overnight bag you had, walking back over to you to help you change.

once your shirt is on, he kisses you softly and then holds your waist, smiling down at you with so much love.

he finishes helping you change and you try to stand on your own again, succeeding this time. you stop midway into the bathroom, the soreness from your legs making you hunch over.

“i think you broke me,” you whip your head behind you to face your boyfriend, he just gives you a sly smile. “my fuckin’ legs are sore, vin. this isn’t funny!”

you make your way into the bathroom and do your thing, coming out minutes later to see vinnie standing in the doorway with open arms.

you hug him tightly, trying to stand on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

“i’m sorry i broke you, princess.” he whispers in your ear. “but you know you loved it.” he looks at you with a smirk.

you laughed and smiled at him, knowing he was completely right.

“i did, but i loved the bath you ran for me a lot more.” you reply, vinnie hit your arm playfully.

with a loud laugh, you speak up saying, “i’m kidding, although that did help the soreness a bit, clearly not that much. but the events before were just as good.”

the two of you lean in to share a passionate kiss. vinnie then picks you up by the thighs and holds you against him, your legs wrapping around his waist.

“i can get used to this treatment.” you say before kissing him.

vinnie smiles, brushing his nose against yours. “i love you, princess.”

“i love you more, vin.”

hiii i hope you liked this n it lived up to your expeditions !!

i loved writhing this !! thank you for the request again <33

#vhackerr #vinniehacker #vincent hacker #vinnie hacker blurb #vinnie hacker fluff #vinnie hacker imagines #vinnie hacker smut #vinniehackerfanfic #vvhacker

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yuta-nation · 5 months

Text

Punishment (Lucifer)

content: dom!lucifer, sub!reader, AFAB reader, no pronouns used, s3x toys, underwear as a gag. i think that's it, lmk if i missed anything.

wc: 2.4k

a/n: repost from my old acct. enjoy (again)!

You turned your head in the direction of your bedroom door upon hearing a knock on the other side. You opened your mouth to invite whoever it was in, but the knob was turning, and the door was opening before you got a word out. Mammon stuck his head into your room, eyes panicked behind his sunglasses.

“Room inspections in five minutes, hide whatever needs hidin’ quick!” he warned you in a whisper louder than his speaking voice before closing the door behind him. You heard his footsteps retreating quickly as he made his way toward his room to take his own advice.

You shot up out of your chair, knocking it over in your haste. You didn’t have anything that needed “hidin’”, but your room was…less than tidy. Clothes were strewn over the floor, books stacked in unsteady piles on your desk and nightstand, empty water bottles scattered throughout the room, and your bed hadn’t been made for a week. You mumbled a string of curses as you rushed to make your room presentable, gathering all the clothes into your hamper, returning the books to your shelf, and tossing the bottles in the recycling bin. You heard another knock on the door just as you turned your attention to your bed.

“Shit,” you whispered, sparing your unkempt bed a nasty glare.

“Come in!” you called dejectedly, knowing you were about to get an earful. You moved to the bed in a futile attempt to hide the disarray with your body. Lucifer entered your room as you pulled your lamb plushie (a gift from Mammon) tight against your chest while you lounged on the bed, feigning nonchalance at the demon’s presence.

“Good evening,” Lucifer greeted, offering you a small, polite smile.

His eyes began scanning the room, starting at one wall and moving to the next. After a few seconds, he nodded in satisfaction at the rest of the room before shifting his focus to you and your bed. You shifted your weight in discomfort at his gaze, noticing how his eyes narrowed slightly at the mess. You sat up and repositioned yourself on your pillows, waiting for the impending lecture. As you settled back down, you saw Lucifer’s eyes widen.

“What is that?” he asked, deep voice taking a hard edge. You looked down at your plushie in confusion before answering.

“…a lamb?” you answered, voice lilting up in uncertainty.

“I am referring to the blue object at your side. What is that?” And you felt your heart drop out of your ass.

You looked down at your left side and saw your blue vibrator poking out from underneath a pillow. You stared at it in awe for several seconds before you heard the demon before you clear his throat expectantly. You swallowed hard before turning to look at him. It felt like all the blood in your body had traveled to your face, you could feel your ears and cheeks burn in embarrassment and fear. You opened your mouth then closed it again several times, unable to summon any words to your lips.

“Answer me,” Lucifer demanded, taking a step closer to the bed.

“I-it’s a-a vibrator,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. A heavy silence fell over the room, pressing down on your body, pinning you in place.

“Are you hiding anything else? if I suspect that you are lying to me, I will tear this room apart. Think carefully before you answer me.” He looked directly into your eyes as he spoke, and it felt like he was burning holes into your soul.

“…Top drawer of the dresser,” you said weakly, pulling the lamb tighter to your chest.

The demon marched over to your dresser, yanking the first drawer open. Nestled among your socks, bras, and underwear was a bullet vibe and a bottle of lube. You screwed your eyes shut in shame as he reached into the drawer to pull the items out, keeping them closed until you heard the drawer slam shut. You pried your eyes open to watch Lucifer walk slowly to the foot of your bed, gasping as he threw the confiscated items onto the mattress.

“So this is what you do at night? Instead of sleeping or studying, you spend your time pleasuring yourself. I expect this kind of debauchery from the others; they’re demons, they were born to revel in their sins; they can’t help it. But for you to engage in such behavior? I’m quite disappointed.”

“I—”

“I, do not want to hear your excuses. I have to punish you for this. You understand that, don’t you?”

You nodded slowly, not trusting your voice.

“Good,” was the only response you received before Lucifer climbed onto your bed.

“What’re you doing?!” you squeaked out as he crawled towards you and yanked the lamb from your arms, tossing it somewhere on the floor behind him.

“I told you, you’re going to be punished. You’ve been playing with your pussy every night, it’s only fair that I get a turn, isn’t it?” Your eyes widened at his question, and your cunt throbbed in anticipation.

Of course, you’d fantasized about similar scenarios almost nightly, but you never entertained the idea of them becoming reality. Your heart sank for a moment, as you considered that perhaps he was just teasing you, that this was a cruel prank of his, that any second he’d laugh in your face, sneering ‘Is that what you hoped I’d say, you pitiful human? You disgust me.’ but the repudiation never came. All you saw in the demon’s red eyes was lust, and some other emotion you couldn’t identify. But you detected no repulsion or mischief in his gaze.

“Answer me, little lamb,” Luficer ordered, moving so that his body hovered over your own, arms and legs on either side of you, his weight resting on his left hand that was positioned by your head. You could feel his warm breath on your face every time he exhaled.

“Y-yes. that’s only f-fair.” He rewarded you with a smug grin, flashing you his canines in the process.

“Excellent, I’m glad we’re on the same page,” he said lowly before closing the distance between your mouths.

You had spent an embarrassing amount of time imagining what kissing Lucifer would be like, but never in your dozens of fantasies was his kiss so desperate. It was like he was trying to devour you as his tongue slipped past your lips, exploring your mouth with fervor. You let out a whine as he nipped at your lower lip before diving back in to suck your tongue. He bucked his hips against yours at the sound, grinding his large bulge against your clothed cunt. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist in an attempt to keep him flush against you, but he quickly grabbed your legs and untangled them from him, pulling back from the kiss to look at you humorlessly.

“I thought I made myself clear that this was a punishment; don’t get so bold. I am not doing this for your pleasure,” he warned, hand threading through your hair to pull your head to the side, baring your neck to him.

“I’m doing it for mine,” he growled before biting the junction between your neck and shoulder. He didn’t apply enough force to break the skin, but it was enough to make you yelp in shock. A gloved hand clamped itself over your mouth, but the demon’s lips didn’t leave your neck. He began to suck and nip a bruise onto your skin, your eyes rolling back at the sensation. Lucifer eventually released your neck, admiring his handiwork with satisfaction; that mark was going to last a while. his hand, however, remained in place. His eyes met yours again, your heart twisting when he shook his head in disapproval.

“It seems you want my brothers to hear you, is that it?” you shook your head frantically in denial, earning you a small smile.

“Then be quiet. here, I’ll even help you,” he offered, removing his hand from your mouth to reach into his pocket. You could feel your face heat up as he pulled out a pair of your underwear. Your favorite pair, to be exact; a black lace thong with a red heart pattern. You didn’t own anything similar, preferring more comfortable cotton boxers or briefs, of course that pair stood out in your drawer. you’d bought them with the demon before you in mind.

“Open your mouth,” he instructed. if you had been standing, your legs would’ve given out at that moment. You did as you were told for once, opening your mouth wide. Lucifer smiled at your obedience as he stuffed your mouth with your own panties. You closed your mouth around them, embarrassed by how much your mouth watered. You watched as he finally reached for the blue vibe that had gotten you into this wonderful predicament. You were certain that he could hear your rapid heartbeat in the now silent room as he held the object in his hand, inspecting it with an amused gleam in his eye. The vibe was thin, around an inch at the base, and seven inches long. Lucifer shifted onto his knees, still focused on the toy. He finally returned his attention to you, amusement still clear on his face.

“Does this thing really satisfy you? It’s quite small,” he commented, measuring the heft of it with his palm. you shook your head meekly, looking down in shame at your answer.

“I figured as much. Still, I would like to see it in action.” You looked up at him in surprise. It hadn’t clicked in your head that this was real until now; that Lucifer was in your bed, planning to use your own sex toys on you, for “his pleasure” " He set the toy down by your side for a moment, hands traveling to the waistband of your sweats. He tugged them off you quickly, throwing them in the same direction of your lamb.

He took his time with your underwear, peeling them off slowly, licking his lips at the strands of slick that clung to them. Once they were off your legs, you watched as he stuffed them in his pocket. You couldn’t help the way your pussy clenched around nothing at his actions. He spread your legs wide, positioning his kneeling body between them. He fished around in the bed for the lube and bullet vibe he’d tossed on the bed earlier, finding them fairly quickly. You whimpered as he finally turned his attention to your cunt, spreading your lips with gloved fingers. Lucifer let out a low groan at the sight.

“So pretty,” he mumbled to himself as he burned the image of your dripping heat into his mind forever. He swiped a finger along your slit, stifling another groan.

“You’re soaked. Don’t even need the lube, do you angel?” he asked you, not expecting an answer.

He picked up the blue vibe, bringing it to your core. He rested it against your opening, withholding the pressure needed to penetrate you, and pressed the button at the base. You bit down on the fabric in your mouth at the sudden stimulation, back arching slightly off the bed. Lucifer was quick to lay his hand on your stomach, effectively pinning your body to the mattress, a devilish smirk dancing across his lips. He left the toy at your core a moment longer, letting your juices slick up the tip before sliding it up towards your clit. Your eyes rolled back when it finally made contact with your bud; the weight of his hand was the only thing keeping your upper half in contact with the bed. He let out a deep chuckle at your reaction, leaning forward so his face hovered over your own. He didn’t want to miss any of your expressions as he increased the pressure of the vibe against your clit.

“Does that feel good, little lamb?” he asked knowingly, smile widening as you nodded enthusiastically. He removed his hand from your stomach and took the bullet vibe in his now free hand; switching it on as well before retracting the blue toy and replacing it with the smaller one. Lucifer brought the larger vibe down to your core, marveling at what little pressure it took for it to slip inside your heat. You whined at the intrusion as your pussy greedily sucked the toy in deeper. The demon above you shushed you softly, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your forehead.

“Gonna make you feel good, honey, so good, but only if you stay quiet. Can you do that for me, love?” His smile returned at your small nod, kissing your forehead again and whispering, “There’s my brave little human.”

He began thrusting the blue toy in and out of your core, enjoying the wet sounds your cunt made at the motions. He pressed the bullet vibe a little bit harder against your clit, smirking as he felt your thighs begin to shake. Your hands found their way to his broad shoulders, gripping onto Lucifer for dear life as you did your best to remain silent.

“Are you close, love?” he asked, knowing the answer before you nodded in response.

“That’s alright, honey, you can cum. Want you to make a mess for me, okay?” he told you as he turned up the speed on both toys, reveling in the way your body trembled at the stimulation.

You felt the knot in your stomach tighten, ultimately snapping when the blue vibe grazed the softest part of your cunt. You clenched your jaw in an effort to remain quiet as your pussy gushed around the toy, tears pricking your eyes at the intensity of your orgasm. Lucifer maintained his actions as you rode out your high, never slowing the speed of the toy thrusting in and out of you or letting up the pressure of the bullet vibe against your clit. As you came down from your peak, you removed your hands from his shoulder, grabbing at his wrists in an attempt to make him remove the toys from your overstimulated sex. He dropped the bullet vibe in order to grab your wrists, pinning them above your head.“Ah, ah, angel. This is a punishment. you’re not done until I say so.” He reminded you, a devilish smirk spreading over his handsome features.

#obey me lucifer #lucifer x reader #obey me! smut #obey me smut #obey me x reader #obey me! x reader #om! smut #🩵: writing #🩵: lucifer

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ddejavvu · 2 years

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meiiiiiii may i please request a blurb of hotch being obsessed with readers boobs or like she’s complaining that they hurt and he’s like !! i can help with that pls pls <33

Aaron Hotchner, Masseuse <3

You flop beside Aaron with a desolate huff, the sound muffled as your face mashes into your pillow. You hear him glance over at you from the news article he's reading on his phone, thick reading glasses perched on his nose.

At the contact of your breasts and the mattress you let out a whine, not having thought your plan through very thoroughly. You gingerly flip onto your back, pain throbbing through your chest with every breath you take.

"What's wrong?" Aaron turns towards you, phone forgotten, as his glasses slide gently askew on his face.

"Boobs." Is all you answer, the word a disdainful whisper as you wish to detach them from your body.

He isn't expecting it, but he takes it in stride. He mulls over the possible problems in his head, letting you have a moment of silence while he does.

They could be hurting. They could be sensitive. They could be too big to fit into a new shirt. They could be too small to fill out a new shirt. They could be inconvenient. They could be any number of things, but the grimace on your face suggests the first: they're hurting.

"How bad?" He pries, resting a hand on your waist.

"Seven." You grumble after a moment of deliberation, "No-! Eight."

"I'm sorry," He murmurs, leaning towards you to kiss your forehead, "Can I help?"

"You can't kiss them better." You narrow your eyes teasingly at him, though the expression is groggy with pain.

He takes your mockery in stride, scoffing out a disappointed sound, "How do you know? That might be the supreme cure to everything," He reasons, his dark eyes extra convincing, "I'm pretty sure Reid told me it was. He is a doctor, after all."

"Of course." You nod stoically, playing along, "I'm glad you and Reid have plenty of kiss-based discussions. But I think I need a massage, not foreplay."

"Well," Aaron looks pointedly down at his hands, their size rather appealing to your current predicament, "I think I might be able to manage that, too."

You suppose your response, slipping Aaron's t-shirt over your head and off of your torso, is rather brazen, but it's not like he hasn't seen them before. He takes his time admiring them, though, his eyes dipping to the curves of your flesh as a soft smile curves over his face.

"Lotion?" He motions to your new bottle, the one he'd bought you from bath and body works only a few days before. The scent twists your tummy in excitement, a warm vanilla aroma, and you nod eagerly.

He squirts a good amount of the product onto his hands, smearing it over his skin to warm it up. He's sure freezing your boobs wouldn't alleviate their pain.

The second his hands come into contact with your skin, smooth and firm around your breasts, you sigh. His fingers knead and press into your flesh, pain slowly ebbing away with every second he spends massaging you.

You don't mean to, but you lean into his touch. You arch yourself towards him, your chest puffing out as he tries keeping you in place.

"Easy," He chuckles softly, settling you back comfortably where you'd laid before, "I'm not going anywhere."

"Feels s'good," You whimper, his touch soothing the dull ache in your chest, "If you ever get tired of the BAU, you should be a massage therapist."

"Mm," He hums thoughtfully, "No. My services are only for you, sweetheart."

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction

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strangersteddierthings · 11 months

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Steddie Week Day 1: Hunger / Pining / Somebody to Love by Queen @steddie-week

It's right there. It's just inches away, hanging off the edge of the popcorn bowl, like when Steve had set the bowl between them on the couch, he couldn't be bothered to fully move his hand away. Or, more likely, he was keeping a loose grip on it so that it wouldn't go flying off the couch, spilling popcorn across the floor like last time. (Eddie maintains his innocence; it's not his fault he's fidgety and nervous around Steve, so really, it was Steve's fault for, like, existing or something.)

Steve's hand is inches away and near the popcorn. He could reach out, just brush his pinky against Steve's, all nonchalant-like. If it brought about a negative reaction, he could always brush it off as reaching for the popcorn blindly and misjudging the distance.

This shouldn't be that difficult. He's held Steve's hand before! Or, well, Steve held his hand, and he didn't exactly hold back but that was on account of the three-day coma, and then later because he didn't have the strength to. Sure, once he was fully awake and aware, Steve quit holding his hand, but he knew. And by knew, he does mean he asked Dustin if he hallucinated that bit and Dustin was delighted to tell him, no, not a hallucination, Steve couldn't be pried from his hand except by a medical professional.

He's seen Steve hold other people's hands, so he knows Steve's a hand holding kind of guy, even platonically (he does not want this to be platonically, but he'll take what he can get). Steve holds Robin's hand all the time. Most of the time it's because Robin is overthinking something and Steve is acting as an anchor to reality, but Eddie's certain the lack of hand holding outside of (minor) crises is because Robin isn't one for hand holding.

Steve's held Dustin's hand, usually when they've picked a movie that perhaps shouldn't have included the younger ones of their group. He holds El's hand all the time. She'll just walk over and grab it, linking their fingers and just stand or sit in silence by each other. Eddie doesn't ask about it, even as he's vibrating on the inside to know how that habit formed, and why.

And it's not like Steve shrinks away from touch in general. People are hanging off of him all the time, between impromptu dogpiles and piggyback rides around the pool, someone always seems to be in Steve's space, leaning on or otherwise touching him. A hand rest on his forearm while Nancy chats with him, Argyle leaning his whole body against Steve with an arm slung around him as they chat and laugh about who knows what, Max having no problems manhandling Steve to the ground so she and El can use Steve as a human pillow for a summertime nap in the shade.

Eddie, himself, has rarely dared to reach out, though. For all the bravado of that fateful spring break, with as much as Eddie leans into Steve's space, he can't bring himself to touch. Touching might destroy him. To get to reach out, to touch, even just the brush of Eddie's fingertips against Steve's arms might break him. He knows he'll crave it so much more than he does now.

And oh, does he crave to touch. Holding Steve's hand is the end goal, but he's not sure he can even work up to that if the thought of brushing his pinky against Steve's is almost working him into a panic attack. It's just him and Steve, watching Star Wars on a Friday night.

No big deal.

Except it's a huge deal.

Eddie's wanted to hold Steve's stupid hand since he first noticed him. Steve was a freshman, and Eddie a sophomore. He didn't notice him right away. It was after Christmas break. The fire alarm had gone off and everyone was gathered on the football field, awaiting the news about if it was a real fire, or someone smoking in the bathroom. Eddie was looking for George, his only friend at the time, and his eyes had landed on Steve at just the right time. Snow lightly dusted his hair, and his head was thrown back in a genuine and loud laugh, so loud and genuine that Steve ended up making a snorting noise that startled Steve and the guys around him. Eddie watched as Steve's face turned pink with embarrassment before he doubled over, laughing at himself. His friends followed suit and Eddie couldn't stop staring.

(Never mind the whole bit where Eddie's crush waned as Steve became mean, King of Hawkins High and whatnot. Also never mind how it surged back during Eddie's second senior year, Steve's only senior year, when they were in a lot more classes, and Steve wasn't friends with Tommy H and Carol anymore, and also more subdued. Not enough to forgive his past transgressions, but enough that Eddie could allow himself to think of Steve as cute again without too much shame.)

It's a miracle, Eddie's sure, that he's even on this couch with Steve at all. The journey they've been through just to get to a point where Eddie can pine from eight inches away instead of afar.

He glances down at the popcorn bowl again, finds it half empty. Watches as Steve reaches for another handful of popcorn with the hand not holding the bowl -honestly, you spill the popcorn once- and brings to up, shoving the whole handful in his mouth at once. Steve's cheeks puff out like a chipmunk's for a moment before he furiously chews and swallows, like some heathen. That was a full hand of popcorn!

Eddie's in love.

His eyes dart down to Steve's hand again. He can do this. He can. He will, in fact. See, just watch. Arm lifted. Moving sideways, it's less than four inches now. Three. Two.

Aaaaand now he's got a handful of popcorn he doesn't actually want to eat. He cradles the palmful of popcorn with the hand that betrayed him and uses his other to pick up one piece at a time and eat them slowly.

Tastes like buttery sadness.

The movie probably has twenty minutes left and Eddie has spent the movie hyping himself up for nothing. He's not brave enough to do it.

He wipes his hand on his jeans and reaches for the bowl again. He might not be brave enough to reach out and touch, but he is brave enough to hold on to the bowl, an imitation of Steve's hold. Their hands are barely an inch apart this way and Eddie supposes that will be enough for now.

He tries for 5 minutes to focus on Star Wars, but then something brushes his pinky. Unthinking, Eddie just pushes back, and that must have been all the confirmation needed, because then Steve is hooking his pinky over Eddie's.

Eddie, ever subtle, whips his head sideways to look. To confirm. Then his eyes fly up to Steve, who is looking back. For a moment Steve looks like he's been caught doing something wrong and his finger twitches in Eddie's grip, like he's going to pull back. Eddie tries to tighten his pinky with Steve's and give him a small smile.

Steve returns the smile, small and almost shy, before turning back to the TV.

Eddie does the same, even as butterflies erupt in his chest, and he feels like he's going to throw up or faint.

#steddieweek2023 #steddie #ficlet #pining #just a quick lil thing for steddie week. dont know if i'll participate every day but i like pining haha #steve had to put the popcorn bowl between them or he would have jumped eddie fyi #my fic

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jasonsmirrorball · 5 months

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bread and butter (587)

you guys can blame lumi for feeding my brain rot. minors, ageless and blank blogs do not interact with this post.

your limbs feel like jelly in the aftermath, boneless and limp. you’re not entirely sure you aren’t sinking into the mattress, panting soft breaths into jason’s mouth that pitch embarrassingly when you inhale. he’s starry eyed above you, holding himself up with his arms and kissing you sweetly. it spins your head, how petal soft his touches become once you’ve come, deep, unforgiving thrusts that had you seeing stars turning to feather-light strokes up and down your side.

you’re almost shy under his gaze, remembering the noises he’d coaxed out of you tonight. he grins knowingly, and you slip your eyes closed to hide but it’s in vain. he’s all around you, and you can feel the burn of his stare through your closed lids.

“hi,” he coos, nosing at your jaw. kiss bitten lips brush against your pulse and you whimper, still sensitive when he shifts to pull out. you feel the loss keenly, but he doesn’t stray far, only curving an arm under you to turn you over and gather you against his chest. you’re pliant, easily manoeuvred, sighing into his chest, dotted with sweat. “you were so good for me, you know that?”

you can only manage a broken murmur, a heavy, drowsy exhale as you rest your head. he makes a noise and you feel it reverberate in his chest, against your cheek. “nuh-uh, baby, gotta drink some water for me.”

he’s unrelenting even against your wordless whines, stretching to retrieve the glass of water on the nightstand and pressing the lip to your mouth. you swallow, taking slow sips until it empties and he hums in satisfaction. his other hand hasn’t left your back, fingers pressing comforting circles into your tired muscles.

you think, when he sets the glass back where he’d picked it up from, that you’re going to be allowed to rest. but jason reaches for the t-shirt he’d discarded some hours earlier and slips it over your head. the cotton sticks to your sticky body, the smell of his musk still clinging to the fabric and reaching your nose. he picks you up easily, an arm under your bottom to support you against his chest and you’re carried through the apartment to the living area.

“how are you not tired?” you rasp hoarsely, feeling misery lingering on the fringes of your fuzzy mind. he kisses your forehead in response, and then your stomach drops when he settles you on the couch.

it’s well past midnight, according to the clock above the television set, but jason pries himself from your grasp with a kiss and disappears a few feet away to the kitchen. he flicks the light on and putters around the space, the sounds of cutlery clinking as he pulls the drawer open.

you watch him for a few moments, bemused, cheek propped up against a trembling hand, before you decide to close your eyes for a moment.

when you open them next, it’s to the sight of toasted bread, melted butter painting it golden, held under your nose. you look from the grilled cheese sandwiches to jason, who raises his eyebrows expectantly.

he ends up feeding you, sinking into the couch beside you. he steals a few bites of his own, the both of you eating quietly in the dark living room. and afterwards, when he’s wiped the crumbs away from your mouth and the yawns threaten to overtake you both, he carries you back to your bedroom.

you fall asleep the moment your head hits the pillow.

need me a jason to make me a cheese toastie after the best sex of my life

#jasonsmirrorball #jay my heart

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sprout-fics · 8 months

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Hiya lovely! Welcome back to writing ❤️❤️ hopefully this doesn’t get lost in the flood of requests but I’m just thinking about Gaz the first couple days he’s back home and how soft and sweet he would be. Like he’s been off doing some brutal things so when he comes home he likes to dote on you and take care of you as a way to balance it out sort of.

LET 👏 HIM👏SPOIL👏YOU👏!!

Wakefulness doesn’t come to you easily, blanketed in your comfy, downy cover. You curl into it with a little whine, tugging the tangled blankets closer around you to ward off the chill of your room. You’re still caught halfway in sleep, wanting nothing more than to let the gentle drizzle of rain outside your window to lull you back into dreams. It’s Sunday, you’ve nowhere in particular to be, and you look forward to the long, luxurious day of staying in bed with your boyfriend, home from his campaign as of last night.

Yet when you reach over, the other side of the bed is strangely empty.

You make a little questioning noise to nobody in particular, cracking open one eye to see the tangle of pillows and blankets where Gaz should be. But isn’t.

It forces you finally into a semblance of wakefulness, and you stretch under the covers, thinking perhaps he’s just run to the bathroom and will soon crawl back into bed with you. Yet as the minutes pass, you find yourself waiting with no end in sight.

“Gaz?” You ask drowsily, but there’s no answer from the bathroom. It does, however, perk your ears to the noises from downstairs in the kitchen, the scent of coffee billowing across your nose.

You force yourself from bed, grabbing a robe and slippers, not bothering to wash your face yet. You’re still rubbing the sleep from your eyes when you shuffle through the door to the kitchen. It’s only then that you finally find your boyfriend, standing before the stove and wearing one of your aprons. He grins at your sleepy appearance, and you whine at him, moving to hug his front and bury your face into the silly little heart of the ‘I love the chef’ atop his chest.

Gaz’s arms wrap around you, tugging you closer, and briefly he rocks back and forth with you. He makes a little cooing sound at you, lifts your face only so he can press a chaste little kiss to your forehead, which you lean into eagerly.

“What are you up to?” You ask, arms still wrapped around his waist, pressed to his front.

Gaz grins. “I’m making breakfast for my favorite girl.” He announces, waving the spatula in his hand with a flourish.

You hazard a glance at the clock. It’s still early, and considering how late he got in last night, t’s a wonder he’s awake at all.

Gaz follows your gaze, and then looks back to you with a little shrug. “Couldn’t sleep.” He supplies.

You frown at that, stretch up so you press a soft little kiss against his cheek.

“Nightmares?” You ask softly, and Gaz’s eyes grow a little distant before he shakes whatever is haunting him away.

“Wanna talk about it?” You offer worriedly, one hand toying with the apron bow at his back. Gaz only smiles at you, leans down so he kisses you properly this time, a lingering contact that makes your stomach flutter with familiar warmth.

“Later.” He promises in a whisper. “Let me spoil my girl first.”

You smile at that, the first smile of the morning, seen only by him.

Gaz carefully pries himself from you, turning back towards the stove, where eggs sizzle against the pan.

“Now.” He announces, looking over his shoulder sunnily. “Waffles or pancakes?”

#kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x you #kyle garrick x reader #gaz fest #gaz fest drabbles

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ultravioletwrites · 1 year

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There’s something of a stray problem at Steve and Robin’s first place together. It’s fitting, perhaps, that as soon as they move out of Hawkins, away from the kids for the first time, that the universe decides they need a new Party--albeit a furry, four-legged one.

Steve’s gearing up to go home after work when he gets a call from Robin.

“Hey what’s--”

“Steve!” He pulls the phone away from his ears, because jeez Louise, warn a guy would you? “Are you on your way back?”

“Literally pulling out of the parking lot, as we speak,” he drawls.

There’s some shuffling on the other end of line. “And I’m literally herding cats, like the whole horde, and maintenance just showed up,” she hisses.

Shit. He peels out of the community center lot. “Hold them off as long as you can, I’ll be right there.”

It’d started innocently enough, a mangy orange tabby lingering at the doorstep during their first month in their townhouse. They hadn’t even fed the damn thing--Steve was firm on that, despite the pleading look in Robin’s eye--but he made himself at home on their porch nonetheless. He was relentless little thing, yowling and weaving between the legs of anyone who dared enter the house. Robin christened him O’Malley and Steve begrudgingly accepted the little fur ball as a permanent fixture in their lives.

Naming him was a mistake. It was like Robin had sent out a bat signal (cat signal?) to all the feline vagabonds in the area. There was a rotating line up of about six cats total. They sprawled belly up on the porch, roamed in the backyard, or kept watch from the trees.

Steve pulls into an empty spot along the street and watches, both horrified and transfixed, at the spectacle unfolding on his front lawn.

There’s a van in the driveway--Munson Electric--and all six strays have latched onto the maintenance man. He’s whirling around in circles on the grass, cursing up a storm, to no avail. They’re climbing up his navy coveralls, using his legs as a makeshift cat tree. The twins--two scruffy Siamese kittens, are attempting to burrow in his mass of dark, curly hair. The elastic securing the tech’s hair stands no chance and Steve winces when Thelma, the more mischievous twin, pries it free with her claw. O’Malley’s wrapped around the man’s shoulders like an airport neck pillow.

Robin’s trying to entice the kitties with lunch meat--which hey, Steve needs that for his lunches. She shoots Steve a desperate look as he rushes toward them. “Finally! I don’t know what their fucking problem is!” Robin grabs Louise, the other twin, by the scruff only to be met with a menacing hiss as she clings tighter.

Steve manages to pry Cheese, the smallest of them all, off the guy’s bicep. “Someone’s a real pussy magnet, huh?” he says under his breath.

Steve’s met with a withering glare. “Is now really the time?”

Which, yeah it’s definitely not and the guy’s looking vaguely murderous, but he’s also certifiably gorgeous up close. The pinched look on his face does nothing to distract from warm, brown eyes and pouting lips. Steve schools his expression into something more neutral, or tries to. “Sorry, sorry.”

“Why can’t you and your girlfriend be normal and have, like, a million kids or something?” he huffs.

Robin scoffs. “We’re not--”

“She’s not--”

“Can someone,” he shrieks, as Thelma bats a paw at his ear, “just please get them off me?”

It takes a lot a maneuvering and distracting--Robin snatches some gardening gloves from the garage because, damn, claws--but they finally fend off the cats long enough to usher the maintenance guy inside.

He slumps against the wall, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. “Jesus.”

Steve was already a little rank after work--coaching a youth community basketball team will do that to you--but he's damp with a fresh layer of sweat. “‘M showering real quick, I can, uh, grab you a beer for your troubles?” he says quietly.

“Yeah,” the guy wheezes. “Maybe two, fuck.”

The breathy way he chokes out the last word is taking Steve’s brain to all sorts of inappropriate trains of thought, so he nods and flees to his bathroom.

His hair’s still a little damp when he comes downstairs to the kitchen twenty minutes later and, oh. Robin and the maintenance guy look thick as thieves, chumming it up and laughing at something on her phone. And it’s captivating, the sound of his laugh. The broad grin on his face makes something twinge in Steve’s gut.

They both turn to look at Steve and both pairs of eyes have him fumbling for something, anything to say. “All good?” Better than nothing, Steve supposes.

“Eddie’s got it all fixed,” Robin says with a smarmy smile.

“G-great. That’s great, Eddie!” Steve stammers.

Eddie--knowing his name now makes it exponentially worse, likes the way it rolls of his tongue a little too much--straightens up and pins Steve with narrowed eyes and a charming uptick of his lips. “Got some wires crossed, Stevie.”

A blush creeps up the back of his neck. “What?”

Eddie reaches to readjust the sloppy bun atop his head. Don’t look at his arms, don’t look, okay well now you’re looking. Ogling more like. “You’ve got some wires crossed, behind the breaker panel, Steve. I sorted them out for y’all.”

“Right, yes. Thank you, Eddie.” Time to shoo him out the house before Steve burst into flames.

Robin putzes around the kitchen while Eddie packs his things, no doubt wanting to eavesdrop, and Steve remains frozen.

“Have a good one!” Eddie calls on his way out. He slows down next to Steve, lips alarming close to his ear. “Can’t drink on the job, you’ll just have to buy me one this weekend.”

Steve watches him hightail it to the van, narrowly missing another cat ambush. Robin presses into his side. Steve whips around. “What the hell did you say to him, Buckley?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she quips, before tucking something into Steve’s pocket. “I got you his business card. With his personal phone number.”

#mechanic maintenance trade worker eddie has me in a chokehold #this man WILL work with his hands and it WILL put steve into a coma #steddie #steddie ficlet #stranger things #st #my writing #also gratuitous use of the em dash #ITS MY FAVORITE OKAY

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wheredafandomat · 2 years

Text

Double the fun

Omg just had this thot and thought lemme write it before I go to sleep so hopefully I dream it 🤣

18+ | contains smut that’s all this is

One of the parts Loki loved most about missions was coming home to you. Yeah he enjoyed being on the battlefield as he’d call it with his friends but there was something about the way you looked at him when he returned. If it was a short mission, you’d shower him with love, hugging him tightly once he arrived back but if it was a long residential one, the way you looked at him when he came home was different, lustful, fiery. You could barely contain yourself, ripping his clothes off before pouncing on him. The sex was always that much more delightful when you hadn’t seen eachother for a few days. Absence certainly made the heart grow fonder and the orgasm last longer.

Today was no different, Loki arrived home after a long mission expecting to see you waiting at the door for him considering he had asked Steve to call and let you know he’d be home earlier than expected. When he didn’t see you, puzzlement painted his features as he made his way upstairs.

“Y/n.” He called to no reply as he continued taking near silent steps. He neared your shared bedroom, ears perking up when he heard the small whimpers passing your lips. Loki knew you well enough to know exactly what that noise from, he had drawn it out of you many times. It was derived from pleasure, pure satisfaction. He peaked through the crack in the door, a smirk playing at his lips when he saw you laying against the bed, eyes closed, knees bent as you rubbed fast circles on your clit. He didn’t have to think about what was on your mind when he heard the breathy release of his name coming from you. The sight instantly left his trousers tightening before he reached down, smoothing over his bulge. He didn’t know what to do; he was torn. Part of him wanted to join you, finally be reunited but another part wanted to continue to watch, lurk in secret as you pleasured yourself calling his name. Watching your hips rise from the bed slightly, he made his decision.

“Hello darling.”

The sound of Lokis voice made you gasp as you opened your eyes, quickly closing your legs.

“L-loki.”

“Don’t be shy now” he grinned, making his way towards you “you were just getting to the best bit.”

Looking up at him, you opened your legs again before trailing your hand between them and resuming your moments only slower this time, more calculated. Lokis eyes were on you as he began removing his clothes before kneeling on the bed. You looked down at him as he made his way between your legs, lips kissing your thighs. His hands pried your legs further apart as his lips reached your core, moving your hand out of the way before he kissed your clit leaving your head falling back against the pillow as he began his administrations. One of your hands gripped the sheet below you tightly as he circled the bundle of nerves before wrapping his lips around it and sucking. Your hips lifted from the bed, your previous climax building up again as he laid his flat tongue against your clit, moving it through your folds.

“Lokii.” You moaned, hips rocking against his face as he continued flicking your clit with his tongue. Unbeknownst to you, the real Loki was still behind the door, stroking himself as you cried his name on the bed with a clone he had deployed himself. Something about the image of himself pleasuring you left him eagerly tugging at his length as he murmured your name. He watched as his clone skilfully drew your orgasm from you leaving you panting as you came down from your high. The sight was picturesque.

“Welcome home baby.” You smiled once you had caught your breath back. “How about we welcome you back properly?” You suggested, wriggling your brows.

“Oh believe me, I’d like nothing more.” You heard a familiar voice from the door.

“Loki?” You gasped again, eyeing the new addition before you looked down at the Loki still between your legs, mischievous smile matching the one that had just walked in. “Is this supposed to be one of those guess who’s because I’m not killing one, I want you both.” You then spoke leaving both Lokis chuckling.

“Well, you heard the lady” The standing Loki spoke to the one between your legs “it seems she wants us both.”

“It does appear that way.” He answered, positioning himself above you as he hooked your legs around his waist.

“Wanna taste you.” You spoke, looking at the Loki stepping towards you as the one on the bed lined himself up with your entrance.

“Well, who am I to deny such a pretty lady.” He grinned, freeing his hard erection as he settled on the bed, his cock running over your lips. You moaned loudly as Loki entered you, filling you completely as your mouth opened, inviting the other inside. You circled the tip of his cock with your tongue eliciting a small growl from him as the other Loki thrusted steadily in and out of you. The room was quickly full of the sound of two Lokis nearing their orgasms as you whimpered between them, your own peak shrouding you as one of the Lokis began circling your clit with his thumb. You hollowed your cheeks around the cock in your mouth, eyes shut tightly as you came, legs quivering.

By the end of the night, Loki had gotten rid of his clone, deciding to claim you himself however he only came to that decision after they both had alternated between fucking your pussy and your mouth. Double the orgasms, double the lovebites, double the fun.

Tags:

@mischief2sarawr @lokisgoodgirl @mcufan72 @lokiprompts @fictive-sl0th @lulubelle814 @vickie5446 @peaches1958 @mochie85

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki fanfic #loki (marvel)#oc fiction #loki fanfiction #loki smut #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki x avenger reader #loki au #loki x you smut #loki x female reader smut #loki x avengers #loki x reader smut #loki drabble #loki smut drabble #loki laufeyson smut

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honoriotsusuki · 10 months

Text

𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐳

Diluc x Reader (ROYAL AU)

The Midday light shone through the polyester curtains like a moth to flame, kissing the many blankets that lay over her sleeping body, her eyes were shut tight like screws to a wooden doll house, her hair was messy and spread across the pillow like stray thread on the tassels of a a new curtain. Her eyes began to flutter open as the light kissed her cheeks, she yawned and stretched her arms letting the silk nightgown comfortably sit around her body.

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes as the blur left her eyes, she slowly slipped out of her bed and delicately placed her feet on the floor walking over to her mirror, she looked into it and looked at her horribly messy hair and shrugged putting on her slippers and opening her door, she was immediately met with yelling and panicking staff who ran around the halls like mice who had been caught, before she could ask she felt hands grip her shoulders like vices as they shook her around. “My lady, why are you not dressed?!” Joel asked, he had been assigned as one of her personal staff when she was young and would run around all day.

“Joel, is something wrong my friend?” She asked, her voice still raspy from her sleep, “Is something wrong?! My lady, are you sick? For this is not a matter to joke about!” He huffed, Y/N pried his arms off of her shoulders and looked at him strictly, “Joel, stop fraying and tell me what has made you this hysteric.” She commanded, Joel sighed and looked up at her. “You’ve woken up four hours before our guests arrive, that's barely enough time to get you ready!” Joel expressed. Y/N looked up at him confused, “Ready for what? Do I not already wake at this time?” She asked, confused. Joel groaned, “Have you truly forgotten my lady?” He asked, “I suppose I have.” Y/N confessed, Joel rolled his eyes and pinched his nose bridge. “Our guests from our fair neighbor Mondstadt, they arrive today for the ball, you are meant to be ready to greet them.” Joel explained. Y/N’s eyes widened as she began to spiral, “Oh dear, has the date come this soon?” She asked in disbelief. “Yes my Lady it has. Now go and get the maids to get you ready, you must look presentable for the Ragnvindrs.

Y/N sighed and closed her door, she was hoping she could just run away for one day avoid her responsibilities, it could all just dissolve and leave her for one day and let her rest, she would be eternally grateful to the lord of anemo, she would serve him all of her measly life if he gave her one day to rest, one day to relax and be free.

However as hard as she prayed that was not her fate, her fate was to be a princess, a princess with no control over what she would do as that fell to her parents, she just hoped this would not be the day that their mercy runs out, that they decide to shackle her to a prince who she does not wish to be with. For a fate without freedom was a fate worse than death.

As the hours flew by she was pulled around the castle by staff, insisting on her attire, how she should greet them and the most official posture she should use. She never understood the manners she was meant to show, of course she knew her basic manners, say please and thank you, always be polite to hosts, take your shoes off upon arriving in a home. However she never understood the rules she was made to follow, using the correct fork or her posture. How could her posture show how she felt? It was all so confusing.

The dress she ended up wearing was actually rather nice, the Maids had to show her over thirty different dresses until she agreed on what to wear, either it was too itchy or far too big, she was never one for poofy dresses, as they made it so she would have to lean down to get something from a table so her dress would not hit against it.

She felt bad for her maids as they were just doing their job, she would talk to her parents about giving them a bonus on this month's check because of this fiasco. Once everything was finally finished there was only thirty minutes until the family arrived, she sat in her throne uncomfortably as it offered no comfort, why not add cushions on the idiotic gold chairs? They were far too showboaty for her taste and made her feel as if she was yertle the turtle.

Her parents sat in the chairs on each side of her, their chairs were taller than hers making her look tiny, she hated it. She hated how they looked so stoic and silent, she always empathized with her mother the most. After all, she was forced into a marriage she couldn't stand and was forced to bear children, that's why their relationship was so strained, she couldn't blame her mother. If she was forced to have a child she would feel apathetic to it as well. And her father was far worse, it felt as if any time she looked away he judged her, prying his eyes deep into her skin like an angry shark.

“Y/N shall you drape such clothing around your body?” Her father asked, venom in his voice that seeped into her like a viper. “Fritz, you speak venom and blasphemy, let the poor girl wear her dress.” Her mother bit back at her father, her mother would defend her occasionally, though she acted cold she always had moments of kindness towards her. “Romi tape your mouth shut, for this does not require your presence.” Her father seethed looking over at her mother, Romi didn't even flinch, she had gotten used to his rude tones and awful attitude. Y/N sighed as she sank into the chair, it always seemed so hopeless to try and stop their arguments, they would start back up again, what was the point.

Suddenly the doors to the throne room opened, Y/N looked up to see a group of three men walking in, the tallest was a man with bright red hair, King Crepus. She had heard of his endeavors in his kingdom, truly honorable. Beside him were two boys, one was the spitting image of Crepus, just slightly younger and less smiley, the other was the exact opposite. He had dark skin and dark blue hair, and he wore a sly smile. It was odd, were they siblings? Y/N had always wanted a sibling, but her parents only needed one heir so it was never even a thought.

“King Heinrich, I am humbled at the sight of your palace, it is an honor to bask in your presence my lord..” Crepus spoke smoothly, kneeling down. Fritz put out his hand, “Sir, please call me by my first name, my honor is not to bespoke thee.” Fritz spoke, Y/N huffed silently, he wore his honor like a badge, he was just showing off. Crepus smiled and got off his knee, “my sons, Keaya and Diluc.” Crepus signaled to the two boys behind him, they both bowed. Fritz nodded and moved his hand to point towards Y/N. “Y/N my child.” Fritz introduced her, she felt her cheeks heat up like she had hot coals inside them, her father only ever spoke so kindly in the presence of a guest. Y/N knew it improper but she wished he would show his impish language to the guests, show the horrors that lie beneath the mask of king Fritz.

Y/N nodded and got up, giving the guests a small curtsy before sitting back down on the uncomfortable throne, it hurt her back to sit. She never understood how her mother was able to bear sitting on these chairs all day, as her mothers chair had even less cushioning than hers. Her fathers chair was comfortable, it had a pillow slung on every side. Whenever Y/N asked why their chairs were so much worse her father would always give the same response,

“Quiet child, be grateful for your gold and jewels, for you have no choice in this matter, you are the same as the woman who brought you into this world, ungrateful and hysterical.”

She despised the man that called himself her father, he was nowhere close to being her father. After the greetings had finished Y/N got up and excused herself to her room, she wished not to be part of the festivities and food, for it only brought more sadness to her heart. She stayed in her room, sitting on the balcony and watching as the sun moved through the sky like a shattered clock.

She was knocked out of her trance as she heard a small knock on the door, she slowly got up and found her mother waiting on the other side. For the first time in Y/N’s life she saw her mother as her- well as her mother, not as a looming figure of perfection or an acquaintance, but her mother. “Mother I implore thy words why are you at my chamber door?” Y/N asked, her voice still hoarse from her weeping. Romi looked at the girl with a sympathetic frown. “My dear i am sorry for the odd arguments that took place today. I wish you were not there when we fought.” Romi sighed, Y/N frowned and looked away, straying away from her mothers sympathetic gaze. “This is far from the first time I have seen you and father fight. However it seems you are always far too entranced in each other's faults to notice I sit right in front of you.” Y/N spoke coldly. Romi sighed and cupped her daughter's cheek with a smile, “My dear i can not imagine the things i must make up for, but please, come down and join us in the ballroom. Try to make some friends my love.” She sighed, kissing Y/N on her forehead.

Y/N was conflicted, on one hand her mother had just shown her genuine affection, something her soul craved beyond no other, but her head was yelling at her to contain her anger, to not give into forgiveness, it was a complicated feeling. Nonetheless Y/N nodded and softly shut the door on her mother, she fixed herself up and walked down to the ballroom.

It was full to the brim of dancing men and women, twirling and turning in a beautiful pattern like the cogs of an eternally functioning machine. Y/N sighed and stepped down the stairs, she could feel some eyes that had drawn towards her. She had long gotten used to the stares of judgment from others, however she still hated them. The glares and comments of children never fully left her. Being part of a royal family came with issues such as being associated with any sort of drama. It was exhausting.

As her foot finally stepped over the last step she felt her shoes come in contact with the hard cold ballroom floor, she took a deep breath and quietly made her way to the corner of the room, she was attempting to strengthen her relationship with her mother, her mother never said anything about staying in corners. Y/N sighed as she stepped onto one of the hidden balconies of the ballroom hidden behind the large intimidating curtains. It was nighttime now, it was beautiful, the lower down you were in the city the more underwhelming the nights would be, barely able to see stars and planets, but from the high altitude of the castle you could see it all, it was always so mesmerizing. Joel used to tell her tales of her childhood when she would sneak out of her room after her bedtime and marvel at the stars above. She had always felt an obsession with them, how could she not? They were wondrous.

She heard the clacking of dress shoes behind her and whipped her head around, she looked back and was shocked to see Prince Diluc, well there goes her relaxed time. “You don't like parties either, I take it?” He asked, Y/N looked over at him with shock, his voice was so… casual. She was always spoken to like it was a riddle, and she spoke back in turn. It was so refreshing to hear a regular sentence. “I've never liked them, they make me feel like I've caught a cold.” Y/N sighed. Diluc chuckled and stood beside her resting his elbows on the banister.

“Your father seems upset.” Diluc mused, Y/N chuckled. He was good at hiding it in front of guests. “He's probably not too pleased that i'm not in there with him, he never liked me being too far.” Y/N sighed in annoyance, her fathers overprotectiveness came off as charming to most people, but to her it was a vice, just another negative trait of his that she could add to the pile.

“I'm sorry he likes that.” Diluc sighed, there wasn't much he could say, after all words could only bandage so many wounds. “It's not your fault.” Y/N sighed looking over at the red head. The two sat in silence for a while as they looked at the stars.

“What is it like in Mondstadt?” Y/N asked abruptly. Diluc thought for a moment as he stared at the skies above, “It's peaceful, free, calm. It feels like home even if you've never been there.” Diluc explains, Y/N nods and pictures the land Diluc described in her mind. “It sounds amazing…” She sighs dreamily watching the stars.

“Yeah you are.” As the words left Dilucs mouth he looked away in embarrassment, “Hmm? What did you say?” Y/N asks, snapping out of her daze, “I-uh- I said, yeah it's pretty amazing!” He sputtered out words in a panic, Y/N looked towards him and chuckled. “Maybe you could take me there someday.” She asked, looking towards him. “Yeah, that would be nice.” He sighed.

Y/N peered back into the ballroom and noticed that the group inside had begun the waltz, a small lightbulb went off in her head as she extended her hand to Diluc, “Hey, wanna dance?” She asked, he looked at her with a flushed face. He pretended to cough as he cleared his face and took her hand. “That would be lovely.” He responded happily.

Y/N dragged him into the ballroom as the two danced, one foot in front of the other as they swayed back and forth like pieces on a music box, as they danced away they felt right, at peace together as they swayed. Y/N looked up into his eyes only to notice he had been staring, they both looked away in embarrassment, it was nice. Just the two of them moving back and forth.

For once Y/N couldn't feel the eyes prying into her back, it didn't matter if she didn't care or if they were really gone, she felt happy, for the first time in ages, she felt happy! Is this what being a princess was meant to feel like? If so, she felt cheated, she could stay in the cycle forever, moving back and forth with the prince as he giggled and blushed. She felt so happy, so…right.

Word count: 2611

I actually kind of hate this, but I needed to post something.

#genshin #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #genshin impact #mondstadt #diluc x reader #diluc ragnivindr x reader #royal au #what am i doing with my life #shakespeare esque language #crepus ragnvindr

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makethatelevenrings · 1 year

Text

Angel by the Wing - TWO

Wow, holy shit, a lot of y’all really liked part one!!! Thank you so much friends. Here’s to plenty more chapters :)

Chapter Warnings: smut (18+ ONLY), all smut is consensual and enthusiastic

Series Masterlist

You had been living in San Diego for two months when you had stumbled into Sarah Kazansky by chance. Literally, stumbled into her. You had been perusing the shelves of the grocery store on the hunt for lentils when a cart crashed into your hip. She was so horrified about not paying attention and clipping you that she practically demanded that she buy your groceries. You, of course, refused, but you did take her up on her offer for some Starbucks.

Sarah was lovely, humorous, and kind. She pried your closely guarded story out of your mouth and took you under her wing. You met her family and also encouraged you to quit your shitty waitressing job and apply at a local bar, citing that she knew the owner.

Eight months ago, your sorry ass stumbled into the Hard Deck with your resume clenched tightly in one hand and your pride in the other. Penny Benjamin took one look at your pathetic, sad eyes and hired you on the spot. Penny and Amelia practically adopted you right then and there, no matter how hard you tried to push them away. The Benjamins wouldn’t take no for an answer, even bringing you along to holiday celebrations with the rest of their family.

Which landed you here, the manager of Top Gun recruit’s favorite bar. Penny was an amazing boss and the bell kept most unruly customers at bay. It helped that there were built in bouncers in the form of the naval aviators swarming the bar every night.

Aviators like Jacob “Hangman” Seresin who was currently railing you.

Your fingers curled tightly around your pillow as his thick cock slid into your sopping hole. You arched your back, aiding his thrusting to reach a deeper part of your cunt. He gasped out a stuttered laugh as his dick sunk further into your clenching pussy and you grinned.

“Fuck, darlin’, I sure missed you.”

His teeth enclosed around the meat of your shoulder and he sucked a dark hickey onto your skin as he drilled into you. You bit out a gasping moan as he grabbed your chin and forced your head up.

“Lemme hear you, darlin’. Wanna see that pretty little face when you come around my cock.”

“Jake,” you whined. His other hand came down to run along your swollen clit and you bucked your hips back, but he draped his chest over your back and forced you back down onto the covers.

Jake was always a pushy lover. He made sure you came, of course, but he wasn’t afraid to mark you up. Your mind filtered back to that hotel room in Virginia for just a second. How he grasped your thigh so gently and kissed you through the stretch of his penetration. The way you breathed his callsign into his kiss…

You cunt tightened around Jake’s cock and he grunted before pulling out and bullying his way back in. God, you loved the feeling of him filling you up. He always made sure to bottom out, stretching you full and making sure your body responded to his touch. He loved watching you come apart on his cock, drunk with the taste of his cum on your tongue and his spit.

Your eyes rolled back as he rubbed firm circles over your clit and your pussy spasmed around his dick, milking his orgasm from him that spilled into the condom. Jake’s hips stuttered as his thrusts slowed and then stilled. Silence enveloped the small room, the only noise being the harsh breathing shared between you two.

“Well, damn,” you finally sighed. “I should tell you about how good other guys treat me more often.”

Jake let out a low growl and laid a gentle bite on your ass. “You do that, darlin’. Just as long as you remember that no one can make you feel as good as I do.”

He slowly slid out of you, leaving you sore and empty. You let your body fall down on the mattress below you and sighed in relief as your muscles finally got a break. Jake’s calloused hand ran up your spine and rested on the back of your neck, right over the hickey Bradley had left just three days prior.

When you got back to San Diego, Jake still hadn’t returned from training new pilots. But when you came knocking on his door tonight after getting a text from him that he was back, he had seen the bruises littering your neck and drove you straight to his place where he fucked every thought out of your head.

Twice. Once last night and once this morning.

“I need a shower,” you grunted. You could feel the curve of his smile against your shoulder and you rolled your eyes. “No, you cannot and will not be joining me. You horny idiot.”

“Can’t blame a guy for trying, sugar. You’re just so sweet.”

“And you’re so incredibly cheesy.”

He laid on his side and watched you as you rolled off his bed. Grinning, you bent down and stole a kiss from him. Jake’s hand came up to cup the back of your head and he tugged your lip between his teeth. You pressed a hand against his chest to shove him back down on the pillows, disconnecting his lips from yours.

“Wanna do me a favor, flyboy?” you hummed as you traced circles on his pecs.

“Anything you need, darlin’.”

“Make some of those famous waffles of yours.”

His green eyes studied your face for a moment, some unspoken emotion flickering across his sparkling gaze for a second before returning back to his charming self. “Of course. I need that shower after you so don’t go wasting all the hot water.”

“Yeah, yeah. What time do you have to be on base?”

“Later than usual. Got a meeting at eleven.”

You threw a wink over your shoulder and sauntered off to his bathroom, taking full advantage of the large shower and jets that sent warm water coursing over your skin. You could hear Jake moving around the kitchen and you grinned. That boy truly made the best damn waffles in the world and he refused to tell you his secret recipe.

Instead of wearing your clothes from the night before, you opted to pull on some underwear from your overnight bag and one of his old USNA shirts. Jake was frowning down at the waffle maker, the crease between his brows making him look like a petulant child being put in timeout.

“Did you put chocolate chips in mine?” you asked as you climbed onto one of the barstools on the other side of the island. He let out an indignant snort at your question and nudged a plate of waffles at you. Butter was already melting across the top of the stack and you eagerly grabbed the bottle of some of the finest store bought, sugar ladened maple syrup that money could buy.

“I would never hear the end of it if I forgot,” he teased. You smirked and lifted a forkful up to your mouth. A sinful moan escaped you at the first taste of those buttery waffles on your tongue. If you were being honest, you didn’t keep coming to Jake for the sex. It was his cooking, for sure.

“Are you coming by the bar after work?” You hopped down from the bar stool and made a beeline for his Keurig. Popping in his favorite coffee pod and starting up the machine, you turned around and leaned back against the counter. Before you was one of your favorite sights. Jake shirtless, his back flexing as he pulled another waffle off of the iron and poured batter on for a new one. It made a tendril of want shoot up through your core, but you tamped it down. You didn’t have time for a second shower today.

“Of course I am, sweets. Javy and I will both be there.”

“Oh, he’s back in town?”

Jake glanced over his shoulder and nearly stuttered to a stop at the sight of you leaning against his counter with his shirt draped across your chest and the soft skin of your legs on full display. The two of you had been playing this game for half a year now.

That month away from you had been spent with his hand wrapped around his cock in the small dorms provided on base for visiting officers and fuck, he missed you. Not that he would ever admit it out loud. You cocked your head to the side, your brow furrowing.

“What? Do I have something on my face?”

He grinned. “Nah. Coffee ready yet?”

“Sir, yes, sir.”

His grip tightened minutely on the spatula in his hand as his sweats tightened around his groin. Fucking hell, that was a new one.

Eight months ago, Jacob Seresin laid eyes on you behind the counter at the Hard Deck, and he knew that he was a fucking goner. Your first night behind the counter, a smirking blond swaggered up to the counter and tried to sweet talk you. Key word, tried.

“Hiya, doll. Name’s Hangman. Figured I’d tell you now so you can be prepared to scream it later.” Without even looking up from the draft you were pulling, you had shot him down by simply reaching behind yourself and ringing the bell. You shot him a pleased smile and waved goodbye, leaving him to return to Javier with his proverbial tail tucked between his legs.

After that, he knew he wanted you. He wore you down over the next few months until you tumbled into his bed.

It was just a transaction between two friends who needed to get their rocks off. He was hot and willing and you were horny and interested. Sue you, you liked sex. There’s no ulterior reason as to why you like sex. There wasn’t some deep psychological reasoning. You just did. You liked to feel pleased and you liked to give pleasure. If someone has a problem with that, it says a lot more about their sex life than yours.

Jake was fully aware that you slept with other people, just like you knew he slept with others when you weren’t available. The two of you were fine with that, because this wasn’t a relationship. Just two friends. Two friends who kept gravitating together, despite him being a raging asshole and you being closed off to the world. Just two messy people finding their way between the sheets.

“What’s on your mind, flyboy?” Your voice broke him out of his thoughts and he shrugged.

“Work.” The lie came easy enough. You narrowed your eyes at his short response. The machine beeped and you brought him his coffee before starting on your own.

“What about work?”

Jake turned around so he could grab the sugar off of one of the higher shelves for you. When he set it down on the counter, he also placed a kiss on the top of your head.

“That’s classified, sugar.”

Tag List: @mizzzpink @xoxabs88xox @dreaminglandsworld @khaylin27 @loveforaugust @phoenixssugarbaby @atarmychick007 @mak-32 @shanimallina87 (strikethrough indicates it wouldn’t let me tag you)

#abtw #top gun imagine #hangster x reader #jake seresin x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader x jake seresin #bradley bradshaw imagine #jake seresin imagine #hangman x reader #rooster x reader

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the-apostates-martyr · 4 months

Text

Another bite of Daniels life after IWTV if Marius had been the one to find him

---

Park benches and the space beneath bushes were not the best place to sleep, and Daniel knew this, but waking up in a hospital bed only drove the point further home. Before he even opened his eyes, he ached, feeling like he did when he had a bad flu. Skin so tender and muscles so sore that the smallest wiggle against stiff, starched sheets was painful. He frowned softly and tried again to open his eyes but he was so tired. He felt something cold against his lip and tried to wrinkle his nose to get it away but was unsuccessful; raising his arm to try and bat it away just felt like a joke. It was heavy and hurt and he felt something tug uncomfortably. But he tried it again anyway because Daniel didn't know when to quit.

“Alright now, enough of that, boy,” came a deep, soft voice next to him, and he felt a warm hand encircle his own in a tender touch. He knew that voice, and he finally pried his eyes open.

“Marius…” He wanted to ask what was going on, what had happened, but he was so tired that the name was all he could get out. His mouth felt so dry, and his throat too, making speech an issue.

Then there was a hand behind him, an arm around his shoulders, helping him to sit up enough to take a drink from the straw pressed to his lips. He sipped gratefully, the water cool and felt like it was filling in literal cracks down his throat.

“Better?” Asked Marius, and Daniel nodded. He blinked several times as his eyes adjusted to the bright light of the room. Everything was a shade of white, yellow, grey, save for the garishly contrasting blue curtains beside him. His sight wasn't the best without his glasses on but through the slight blur he tried to orientate himself, despite the dizziness.

“Yeah, a little,” he croaked. Marius’ hands never left him. Now he was touching his shoulder gently, and finally Daniel raised his eyes to meet the vampires. He looked worried, and Daniel felt immediately guilty for that. His lush silvery blonde hair was tied back at the nose of his neck, a collared shirt crisp over a deep red sweater. He was dressed for the weather despite being dead, while last Daniel remembered he was donned in a t shirt and a denim jacket-it was all he'd been wearing when he left the bar, too drunk to remember where he lived. Did he even live in this city? Boston, was it? Somewhere on the east coast. Somewhere that got dreadfully cold in the winter. “How long…?”

Marius let out this little noise, something between a huff and a scolding click of his tongue, something that Daniel has not yet figured out how to name. He usually gave him such a reprimanding gesture when Daniel was being especially sassy with him or especially drunk. Often both at once. “How long have you been here? How long were you outside? How long are you going to make it if you keep up with this foolishness?”

“All of the above?” Daniel laughed weakly as Marius gave him a withering glare, but at the same time he began to fuss, looking for something to do with his hands, and he adjusted Daniels crinkly pillow to help prop him up more, and smoother over his blanket. “How long hvave I been here,” he finally settled, knowing he was stressing his vampiric companion.

“Only a few hours,” he answered. “It's just past midnight, and I found you something near 7. In a dusting of snow, Daniel. Snow! How could you fall asleep out in the snow?”

Daniel shrugged, then winced at how sore his shoulders were. “In my defense, it wasn't snowing when I laid down.”

“No, it was just a frosty 17 degrees, that's all,” said Marius. He stood as he spoke, and Daniel watched him cross the room to a cabinet near the door. Marius always looked so out of place in modern settings, moreso here in a hospital. He looked so classy and put together, and this hospital was hardly something out of a home and decor magazine. Yet even in the across fluorescent light Marius looked so handsome. He rifled through the cabinet before drawing out another thin, blue woven blanket, the hospitals name stamped along the bottom, and unfurled it to lay over Daniel’s lap. “A security guard found you, nearly hypothermic as the snow started falling. The fact you didn't lose your fingers to frostbite is a miracle. Why didn't you call for me, Daniel?”

Daniel had no idea how to respond to this. He'd just been drunk, really, except, he'd been drunk because he was sad, and he's been sad because he hasn't seen Marius in three days. He just. Did that sometimes. Up and disappeared for days or a week on end. Said he had business to attend to. Business! As a vampire!

“I…I wasn't sure you'd show,” Daniel whispered and the guilt of his admission weighed heavily on him. It felt ridiculous, to expect a vampire, especially the oldest vampire in the world, to be at his beck and call. Ever since Marius had found him in New Orleans 7 years ago, he had been all but stalked by the man, pursued and followed and left trinkets and gifts and fed and scolded and loved in equal measure, giving him everything he could want (and an amount he didn't) without giving the blood. Too young, Marius told him, though Daniel was 28 now. Too much maturing to do before he was frozen for eternity. Heh. Well he was almost frozen tonight, he thought, but decided to keep that black humor to himself.

Marius sighed, and continued to fidget and fuss with Daniel's blanket. “I would have heard you call for me, Daniel. It was better than hearing the sound of your heart slowing.”

Daniel looked up on faint surprise, horrified but intrigued at the same time. “You heard…? That's why you came for me?”

“Yes, you foolish thing. I heard your heart slow and I heard the thoughts on your mind grow quiet. You'll not worry me like that again. Having to find you here, in such a ghastly place.” Here Daniel saw Marius’ facade crack slightly, looking around the bed at all the items he couldn't quite identify but which solidified his lover as certainly mortal and fragile. He felt guilty for it, and that guilt made him want to bed once more for the blood, but the idea of whining and pleasing right now was exhausting. He closed his eyes at the very thought, and felt like he's nodded off for a few seconds, because he jolted back awake with a gasp and an attempt to sit up. The pain through his arms and back was enough to foil that idea though, and he grit his teeth as he fell back to his pillow.

“Daniel, just rest,” Marius soothed, and Daniel felt his hands smoothing back his hair, stroking over his forehead. Warm hands, surprisingly warm-

“Why aren't you cold?” He asked. “Your skin feels so warm, Mars.”

Marius smiled, and Daniel felt breathless to see the way his eyes wrinkled slightly at the corners, just a hint of his once mortal age. “As soon as I knew you were alright, I went out hunting,” said Marius. “I had my fill off the streets; as cold as you were, I knew I needed to keep you warm.”

Daniel sighed, feeling weary and tired in a way he could barely understand. For years now he had been frantic, driven half mad with fear with the knowledge that vampires were real, opening the door to who knew what other monstrosities lurking in shadows and under his bed. But for a moment, just a breath, he let himself rest.

#marius de romanus #Daniel Molloy #Marius/Daniel #the vampire chronicles #de romanus coven events

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