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profound-bouquetbird · 1 year

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Can i request a platonic Johnny Abot (i think thats his name) x hybrid reader from sweet tooth, we know he’s sympathetic twords the kids so what if while they were in captivity he chose a favorite, i think that would just be super cute (choose whatever “type” of hybrid u want)

YEEEESSSSSSSS. Thank you for making my hyper fixation feast 🙏

The type of hybrid is not really mentioned a lot but I like to think the reader is a snow leopard hybrid. Cuz snow leopards r cool

Also I think it's spelled Johnny Abbot? But I'm not rly sure

Also, there's 100% gonna be angst in this, if you want to you can request a separate thing where it's a different AU :)

Warnings: season 2 spoilers, mentions of guns and possibly death

Anyways, enjoy (also, cringe gifs come w this)

When he first saw you, he honestly felt bad and guilty for putting you in a dungeon

Not that he doesn't feel bad for putting the other hybrids in the dungeon, he does but.. you kind of seemed slightly different from the rest

Yes, you came from two parents (that day died from the sickness) and you weren't older than the H5G9 virus (is that the name??) But you just felt different, somehow

He would visit the dungeon frequently just to keep an eye on you, and every time he passed by he would peak through the bars to just see you

He felt as if it was his responsibility to keep you safe, even though you barely know him and you see him as a bad guy

When he would come in to take Gus away he would make eye contact with you with a sorry kind of expression before the doors closed. And you eventually picked up on his behavior

Every time he entered you would inch closer and closer, just to see if it wasn't anything that you and your friends sould be worried about. Eventually you warmed up to him slightly, still hated him for traping you and your friends but you weren't afraid to approach him

He would feel all happy inside when you were in front of him for the first time. Feeling like he was protecting you somehow, even though you were just standing in front of him

One day, or sould I say one night. When Johnny was passing by, he saw you sitting by the bars. Your face resting on one of the bars as you looked up at the stars, or to say the fairly small amount of stars that you could see

You didn't realize that Johnny was there, and that he was slowly approaching you

"Hey." You jumped and hissed as you backed away, "no, I'm not gonna hurt you, just.." He looked into his pockets and pulled out a few chocolate bars, "here." He smiled, extending his hand through the bars and towards you. You sniffed his hand and your pupils widened (?) As you looked at him carefully, you quickly snatched the candy bars away from him and you just stared at each other. He smiled, and you smiled back. "Thank you." You whispered, leaving Johnny in shock as you ran towards your friends to share

Every night after that he would pass by and give you enough candy for your friends or would give you something edible to eat, he isn't a cook so it would be roughly either a couple cans of food or just sliced up bread. Either way you ate what he gave you

After a while you started to spend more and more time with him. You saying a few words to him was enough to brighten his mood

He, of course, told no one that you could speak. He knew what tests Dr. Singh did on Gus, so he kept your ability to speak a secret. And you didn't tell Johnny that the other hybrids could talk, since you didn't want them in any danger

He would sneak you out of the dungeon at night when everyone is asleep so that you can look up at the stars and run around in the grass, after a while he would bring up the idea of letting you escape

You would deny, saying that you didn't want to leave your friends, and he would be understanding but also confused. Didn't you want freedom?

One night you told him the plan of your escape. He felt honored that you trusted him enough to give out that information, he also asked where you would be going, who you would be going with etc. etc. so that he could try and lead the general in the wrong direction

Before you and your friends escaped he gave you a necklace with a little fake key. The little key had your initials engraved in it

You smiled happily and ran to grab a rock, with you sharp nails you barely carved out a heart and gave it to him. You almost made him cry ngl

The day of your escape he did everything he could to keep any guard away from you and your friends,,, but mostly you if we're being honest

But of course, he couldn't keep you safe for long, he could just be a distraction while you all escape

He just wanted for you to be safe, he knew if he wanted you to be safe, he had to be far away from you

But, he still here the rock you carved him. And you still kept the necklace

When he was traveling with his brother and the crew all he had in mind was you, he was wondering if you knew, if you were safe, if he could do anything to warn you, to let you be safe

Now he was on the ground, pointing an unloaded gun at his brother. He gave this whole speech, and when he was about to pull the trigger, the gun didn't go off

Now to your point of view. You were waiting for the escalator thingy it get back so you could get on, but a gunshot was heard, you ducked down, covering your ears and squeezing your eyes shut. You felt a sudden emptiness fill your heart as you uncovered your ears and looked towards where the gunshot was heard

Your ears fluttered as you ignored your friends calling for you and ran, getting on all fours as you climbed up a tree, jumping from tree to tree so that you would go unnoticed as you approached the area where the gunshot was heard

You looked down and smiled when you was Johnny laying on the ground, you hadn't noticed the blood around him

You jumped down with a huge smile, "Johnny!" You yelled out if happiness, "you came! You're not gonna believe where Gus used to live!" You giggled in excitement, jumping around him, you didn't receive a response

"Johnny?" You questioned, tilting your head as your ears twitched in confusion. You cracked next to him, poking his cheek, "Joooohhhnnnnyyyyy!" You dragged out, continuing to poke his cheek

"This isn't funny!" Your eyebrows furrowed in annoyance as you gripped tightly onto his coat and shook him, "c'mon! Wake up!" You yelled, your face scrunching up in worry as you continued to shake his body. Your heartbeat increased as you shook him more violently, your face morphing from annoyance to worry, "Johnny?" Your voice cracked

You now noticed the blood below him, your eyes widened as you stared to breath heavily, shaking him more and more, "Johnny?! Johnny wake up!" You yelled, tears forming in your eyes as you turned him over. You started to sob as you shook him more and more, thinking that would help him wake up

You opened your mouth to yell his name out again when someone gripped at you hair. You screamed in terror, your claws coming out as you instinctively scratched their mech and but their arm as hard as you could, the guard yelled and cliched onto their neck and hand

You got up, looking at Johnny before starting to sob as you hugged him tightly. You kept sobbing and yelling apologies, as if it was your fault

The person you attacked pulled out a crossbow, but before they could shoot bear attacked them, grabbing you as she pulled you away. You started to sob, not wanting to let go. But bear picked you up and ran away towards the escalator thing as you reached towards Johnny, sobbing as you watched him. Slowly getting farther and farther away

A/n: *slurp* mmmm, angst

Anyway, sorry if it's crappy, it's my first time writing for this fandom 😅

#johnny abbot #johnny abbot x reader platonic #child reader #hybrid reader #sweet tooth x reader #p sweet rooth x reader #sweet tooth

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larabiatasstuff · 6 months

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Sweet Tooth Story

Chapter one here

Chapter two here

Chapter three here

Chapter four here

Chapter five here

Chapter six here

Taglist: @horrorstoryfreak , @honestlyzealouscrusade , @spucifer , @iloveolderman0 , @x-filthyghoul-x , @harlequinautumn

Chapter seven 🖤

Tinker was right , it wasn't easy but I did my best to get the work done. The tires were heavy and difficult to handle but at the end of the day the pile was only half it's size. "Sweetie, we're having dinner do you... What the fuck? Did you do that all by yourself?" Miranda asked looking at me in disbelief. "Yeah... I... I'm honest my whole body hurts but yeah I did this by myself." "Did Rosa give you that task? I can talk to her if you want." "No it's alright. I don't wanna cause more trouble than I already did." she put a hand on my shoulder giving me a warm smile. "If asking for help causes trouble then this place is full of troublemakers sweetie. Rosa wasn't always like this you know? She was like me, had open arms and an open heart for everyone who struggled. A few weeks ago, a girl came into the bar. She was in a horrible condition. We welcomed her, gave her food and clothes and Rosa became something like a mother figure to her. Everything was fine until one morning. " " What happened? " Miranda sighed." When we got up that morning she was gone with several food rations and medications. Since then Rosa is careful who she trusts and doesn't let anyone come near her again. "." I'm so sorry that happened. I can imagine how much that hurt her. I don't blame her for that okay? I'm willing to work so I can give you something back. I mean she helps Sweet Tooth and I'm deeply grateful to her. "" I know sweetie, I know. Alright, let's go have some dinner. I'm really proud of you and I bet the big guy is too. " with that we walked to others who were already sitting at the table." Oh Y/N, do you have a minute after dinner? " Rosa asked." Of course. " I said and she just nodded in response. We had some very delicious stew, talked about our days and had a good laugh. I helped cleaning up after everyone was finished and then Rosa and I made our way to the shed.

Part two🖤

#sweet tooth x reader #sweet tooth #twisted metal #samoa joe #slow burn

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megangovier · 1 month

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Tastes Like Candy, So Sweet

For @pinkberry1rxx & @larabiatasstuff

Pairing: Sweet tooth x innocent f!reader

Summary: You're in a garden on a swing, sucking on a lollipop. Sweet Tooth comes along and takes your hand. Walking inside a rundown shed with a discarded bed in it.

No Mention Of Y/n

WC- 461

It was a beautiful summer's day in early August, the weather was bright and radiant. Beautiful blue skies and birds singing, you were on a wooden swing swinging your legs. A flavorful lollipop in your hand tasting like sour cherry and vanilla, as you were minding your own business taking in the fresh air and beauty of the scenery around you, sweet tooth appeared a few meters Infront of you. Taking in the beauty ahead of him, as he walked Infront of you. His hand extended to yours taking the lollipop from you and slipping it under his mask into his mouth.

"So sweet, just how I like it" he said.

Grabbing you by the hand, sweet tooth takes you into the shed big enough to fit enough clowns in there for a party. Sitting down on his lap he takes off his clown mask, slips a hand around your neck and passionately kisses you. As you started to Grind against him, he decides to lift you up and throws you down on the bed. Pulling you closer to him he grabs your thighs opens them and growls to find a honeypot brewing.

"What a naughty little slut you're, are you always this wet for strangers? how pathetic." he said..

Pulling you closer towards him, he has undone his belt without you realizing it because you were so concentrated on his beautiful eyes. Looking down he had removed your panties; his boxers were down to his knees.

"Now are you going to be good for me and take all of it?"

Slamming himself into you, he grabbed your hips and kept at that pace for a few moments.

"Princess is already quivering, awe does that mean you're going to come huh, pathetic aren't you? letting some guy take you raw huh..?

The constant mocking and degrading from him in that voice of his was turning you on even more, you wanted him to go faster.

"You want me to go faster? Okay princess, Bite on this.

Sweet tooth gave you a pillow to bite down on, as he slipped both hands onto your lower stomach and fucked you even harder your eyes rolled at the back of your head with drool sneaping out the corner of your mouth.

"How does it feel huh, like the feeling of being so fucked out huh, we're not done yet princess, not until I fill you up.

The way you clenched around him, when he said that.

"Oh fuck, you're going to make me bust! OMG!"

Sitting up slightly to look in his eyes, behind his mask was nothing but a red face. Clenching around him again, he grabs onto your hips once again that afternoon and pounds into you until he comes into you.

#sweet tooth tv series #sweet tooth x reader #twisted metal sweet tooth #megangovier22 #sweet tooth x fem! reader #sweet tooth smut #clownfckergang

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wuggy101 · 9 months

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Singh Family x child!reader(PLATONIC)

A/n: I’m writing this on google docs, so I hope this is good. I don’t see NEARLY enough Sweet Tooth x reader so I took matters into my own hands. Hope you all like this! Bye-bye!

Word count: 468

…

Everything had gotten worse ever since Rani, your mother, had gotten the Sick. Your father, Dr. Aditya Singh had stopped his medical practice as a way of avoiding going completely numb.

Years later, after learning that your mother wasn’t contagious, and moving into a community where nobody knew about your mother’s health aside from Dr. Bell. But she had stopped working because of her cancer, so your father had stepped up to become the doctor everyone looks to when in times of need.

A few weeks ago, you and your parents had gone to a community party, but had lost yet another neighbor as your father had diagnosed him with the Sick, you had all sang and some cried looking on at the burning house.

Soon, nobody had seen Nancie for about three days, and you, a young 12-year-old child, had no possible idea of where she was.

Your mother and father had gone to the clinic, something about a shipment? You had not a clue about it, but had decided to stay home. As usual, you stayed out of business and work, just like you always have, and you always will.

So as you were peacefully making a snack, the door had bursted open, you saw your parents being shoved inside your home. Then, in your moment of confusion and shock, a neighbor grabs your arm and sits you on a chair. Soon, yet another neighbor starts to wrap saran wrap around your torso.

You recognize this, this is what happens when someone has the Sick. Tears are falling down your face as you call out to your parents, asking what is happening.

You look to see your parents covered in saran wrap as well. They have understandably very sad and scared looks on their faces. As this is going on, all of your belongings are being doused in gasoline.

Your neighbors push your chairs together, and on one side, Rani holds your hand the best she can, and on the other, Aditya grasping your hand within his. Both parents whispering sweet nothings into yours and each other’s ears. Sad apologies are said to all people, whether it be something small or big, it was said.

Teary eyes looking at each other the best they can, and looking at the flames engulfing their once beautiful home. And you, looking up above at the ceiling, imagining the beautiful stars beyond what you see. You, crying while saying your last words to your parents, only wishing to have lived a better life.

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edentrees · 4 months

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—✮Eden's Rules✮—

—✮• I will do

—• Platonic and Romantic relationships

—• Fanfics

—• Headcannons

—• Fluff

—• Angst

—• ADHD, Depressed, ED, and other types of disorders

—✮• I will not

—• Make any type if SA stories

—• Any kinks

—✮• Movie's

—• The black phone

—• IT(only chapter one cuz I haven't watched chapter two)

—• Fear Street 1-3

—• Fanfik

—• You are so not invited to my bat mitzvah

—• Bottoms

—✮• Show's

—• Heartbreak High

—• Heart stopper

—• Boo Bitch

—• School Spirits

—• I am not okay with this

—• Trinkets

—• Sweet tooth

—• Stranger things 3-4

—✮• Female Characters

I am ONLY taking Female reader!

—• Tiger (Sweet tooth)

—• Bear (Sweet tooth)

—• Robin Buckley (Stranger things)

—• Nancy Wheeler (Stranger things)

—• Tabitha Foster (Trinkets)

—• Elodie Davis (trinkets)

—• Moe Truax (Trinkets)

—• Sydney Novak (I am not okay with this)

—• Rhonda (School Spirits)

—• Dawn (School Spirits)

—• Gia (Boo Bitch)

—• Erika (Boo Bitch)

—• Tori Spring (Heart stopper)

—• Darcy Olsson (Heart stopper)

—• Tara Jones (Heart stopper)

—• Quinn (Heartbreak high)

—• Sasha (Heartbreak high)

—• Beverly Marsh (IT)

—• Ziggy Berman (Fear street)

—• Deena (Fear street)

—• Kate Schmidt (Fear street)

—• Cindy Berman (Fear street)

—• Alice (Fear Street)

—• Shelia (Fear Street)

—• Samantha/ Sam Fraser (Fear street)

—• Hazel Callahan (Bottoms)

—✮• Male Characters

Only Female Reader I'm very sorry

—• Bruce (The black phone)

—• Robin Arellano (The black phone)

—• Finney Blake (The black phone)

—• Vance Hopper (The black phone)

—• Griffin(The black phone)

—• Any of the boys in IT

—• Leon (Fanfik Platonic)

—• Tosiek (Fanfik Platonic)

—• Any Boy from Your so not invited to my bat mitzvah

—• Platonic For Heartstopper boys

—• Stan the man (Stanley Barber I am not okay with this)

—• Gus (Platonic Sweet tooth)

—• Any boy from Stranger Things

—✮• Accepting for BxB

—• Will Byers

—• Tosiek

—• Leon

—• Charlie Spring

—• Nick Nelson

—✮• Remember the Rules!!

#bottoms movie #robin arellano x reader #hazel callahan #sweet tooth x reader #finney blake #vance hopper #the black phone #heartstopper #ruby cruz #rules #you are so not invited to my bat mitzvah #x reader platonic #elodie davis x reader #x reader

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wraithprint · 5 days

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Housewarming ;

✖ a twisted metal fic

⊱rating: explicit ; minors dni ⊱summary: you handle a knife like the world ended before your parents taught you how to cook and Sweet Tooth loves like the world ending finally gave him the chance to. ⊱pairing: sweet tooth x afab!reader ; primarily sweet tooth pov ⊱wc: 4.3k. help ⊱contains: no beta, no use of y/n, established relationship, age gap - Sweet Tooth is in his late 30s/early 40s and you are a 20something apocalypse baby, no gendered pet names, descriptions of blood + murder, brief mention of child abuse, fluff, yearning, ruminations on codependence, smut, piv sex, creampie but i don't focus on it, kitchen sex, dom needles if you squint, gloves stay on mask stays on, a whiff of yandere if you squint, narrative and tonal delineations between sweet tooth / needles kane / marcus kane, extremely specific early 2000s reference, general inability to write a short and punchy sex scene, sweet tooth can't fuck without being a little annoying about it ⊱a/n: this was supposed to be short. this was supposed to be a bullet list. help. i also dug up my CD + CD player just to relive my cereal box kid's choice awards CD memories. that synth opening on Sometimes is so bad.

Sweet Tooth kind of hates houses.

Not in a gestalt sense — he'll spend all day watching reruns of HGTV if given the chance; he's developed more opinions on farmhouse decor than what should be healthy. No, houses just happen to be the vessel in which household dynamics were inflicted upon him. He feels the same about dollhouses, too: It's less about the house and more about it being the stage upon which Mommy Doll screams at him for not making enough in residuals to afford another trip to the Bahamas this year, and where Not My Daddy Doll ruins the plaster every time he gets upset.

But there's something about this house.

Maybe it's the lack of an open concept floor plan. Maybe it's the adrenaline from killing the couple who lived here, still warm in the foyer in their matching tennis outfits. It could be the polished marble floor, which is complimented so well by all that blood right now, or it could be because it's a mansion. Those high ceilings and vacuous rooms feel spacious enough to house his baggage without it piling up against the walls.

Or, he thinks, at the sound of you shrieking in delight from the kitchen, it could be you.

He's cleaning his machete on the wife's tennis dress when he hears you from the room over.

"They've got fucking chicken in here!" Your voice is half-muffled from inside the fridge; back end jutting out from behind its open door.

"The chicken is doing what now?" Sweet Tooth calls back to you.

There's a thunk, then the distinct sound of produce hitting the floor and rolling. You're glowering at him when he rounds the corner. The hair on the back of your head is disheveled; several potatoes roll aimlessly along the glossy tile. He doesn't have to say it. You already know he knows.

"The chicken," you enunciate laboriously, "is about to get chef'ed by yours truly."

"You cook?" he asks, mildly incredulous. "I got the impression you just ate whatever fit in your mouth." And, according to recent sordid memory, some things that don't quite fit—but you're creative. You find a way.

"Well, that's because I haven't had anything worth cooking." You intone as you rummage through the crisper.

"You mean aside from that possum you made last week."

This time, you dip lower before you snap your head out of the fridge and pivot on a heel towards the counter with purpose. He doesn't mind that you're stubbornly avoiding his gaze—he's busy moving behind you to shut the fridge, watching the line of your hips as he does it.

"Aside from that possum I killed and you insisted I try to cook with aerosol and a lighter."

It came out charred on one side and nearly raw on the other. Absolutely abysmal eating. Also sixty percent his fault.

"You listened to me. That's on you, sweetheart."

You shoot him a bird, he shoots one back, and the two of you descend into banter about everything from the tiles to the backsplash to the enormity of the kitchen itself and what all it could be used for (murder, cooking, fucking - in that order). You've got some crushed garlic and pat of butter (real butter!) going on a bougie ceramic skillet and the air sings with the scent of aromatics.

"Hey, Needles?" You call a bit louder than necessary, as if he could ever stop paying attention to you. "Put something on, would you, please?" He follows the nod of your head to a swanky-looking CD player sitting on the counter a safe distance away from the sink. There's a CD rack beside it, the rotating kind, like a seasoning rack for disc jockeys.

"What're you in the mood for?" Asks Sweet Tooth. In two strides he's there and thumbing through the collection. Rock and grunge, mostly. Nirvana, Foo Fighters, The Cranberries. Soundgarden—he'll save that for you—and...Weezer, for some reason. It's completely possible that the previous homeowners put all of their taste points into music rather than interior design. Too late to ask them now, he supposes.

You make a noise just north of indecisive before saying, "You pick. Surprise me."

He gives it another spin, ignoring the ones that feel too easy, rolling his eyes at some others (Loggins and Messina? Really?) until he settles on one that stands out. It's in a ragged paper sleeve. There's a faded General Mills logo on it, and by the look of it, it must've come from a cereal box. The disc itself is glossy, embossed with a clean pattern of rings that feel pleasant to run a thumb over. He entertains himself with the aesthetics of it for a few seconds before reading off the disc to you.

"How about...The Nickelodeon Kids' Choice Awards 2003 Volume 2?"

You say nothing for a long moment. Sweet Tooth keeps reading the CD face.

"Featuring music by Britney Spears, Nikki Cleary, Backstreet Boys..."

"...NYSYNC and other hot artists?" You say automatically.

"And other hot artists indeed." Sweet Tooth taps the lid of the CD player and it eases open. You watch him so intently he can't actually tell if you want him to play the CD or snap it in two.

"I ate so. Much. Cereal. To get all four of those CDs."

Sweet Tooth loads the disc and presses play: swears he sees your pupils dilate at the sound of the disc whirring into place. After a few seconds of cheesy synth, the beat kicks in and Britney Spears drifts through the speakers, singing about Sometimes.

"Holy shit." Your garlic is starting to burn, but you can't bring yourself to care about that right now. "This is it! This is the one. I got this on the morning of a spelling test and listened to it all the way to school. It was in a box of Cookie Crisp," You start nodding your head to the music, mouthing words you half-remember, swaying to the back beat. Sweet Tooth falls into rhythm with you, albeit with far more gyrating than necessary for a Kid's Choice Award-winning song.

"Cookie Crisp," Sweet Tooth echoes fondly, voice rumbling through his mask. "A cereal after my own heart. Did you P-A-S-S the T-E-S-T?"

"Dunno." You shrug. "School blew up right before I handed it in."

The rhythm leaves your bodies, then.

He tries to imagine you school-aged; tiny and swallowed up by a uniform that runs too big in some places and too small in others. Hair flying wild after recess, dried spaghetti sauce on your cheek after lunch. Your little hands gripped tight around a pencil, trying to remember your i's before e's except after c's. Did you have a favorite subject? A favorite teacher? A favorite animal you secretly wanted people to ask about?

When the bombs started dropping, where did you hide?

Before you, Sweet Tooth never questioned what it was like to have been born at a different time. Time lined up well for him: old enough to have learned everything he needed before society collapsed, young enough to still enjoy it all when the doors to Blackfield flew open. He'd already seen his 21st birthday in the asylum by the time you learned your times tables. But moments like these get him thinking about if.

If he was born a little later.

If he had a different family.

If he had grown up in your neighborhood .

If he had gone to the same school as you.

Do you think we would have been friends?

Instead he says, "Hey, chef. Your garlic's burning."

And when you say, "Good. That one's yours."

He wonders if this is what a house is supposed to feel like: full of light, music, and the smell of vaguely burnt garlic.

Sweet Tooth has never known what domestic feels like, but he's seen movies. Read books. This—you, gushing about eating something that doesn't come from a can, mocking the leathery tans on the bodies by the door—it's gotta come close. It has to.

Sweet Tooth crosses the kitchen and moves the skillet for you, and it's on his return trip that he sees how utterly wrong you're holding the kitchen knife.

Almost the wrongest he's ever seen it. Cutting way too close to your knuckles, chopping a hapless carrot like you're trying to sever a limb and he's wincing each time the blade comes down like a guillotine. You handle a knife like the world ended before you had to cook for yourself, and it shows. A sense of duty settles itchy between his rubs and Sweet Tooth slots behind you, thick arms framing you as he settles his gloved hands over yours.

"Your knife etiquette is atrocious." He corrects your grip, shows you how to form a claw to protect your fingertips while you hold an onion. "Who taught you how to chop?"

You lean into him, slack and trusting as he guides your hands and Sweet Tooth has to remind himself how to hold a knife. How to cut. How to breathe. He curls himself around your shape and you let him, the both of you twisting into a single being and he likes the idea of that. The two of you, joined, forever. He could chop carrots for the rest of his life with you and he doesn't think he'd mind. Not if he got to be like this.

The question turns over in your head and finally, you answer.

"No one," You say blandly. Like you're discussing gas prices. "I lost my folks in the collapse. I think...the first time I put thought into holding a knife was when I was about to kill someone with it."

A beat.

He sees that same school uniform, sticky and ruined with blood. You probably still had baby teeth. If he had known you then...

Would you have trusted him?

He can't say he knows.

Instead, he holds onto what he does know: how your weight settles in his arms. The smell of your skin, the lye from the bar soap you use, so old that any real scent it had has faded by now. That scar at the base of your neck you got from a fishing accident, and the knowledge that if he kisses it right now, your breath would hitch in that secret, shuddering way he loves. He knows he would die for you.

And he longs to ask:

Do you know?

What he says is,

"I'm showing you, then. It's like this: a rocking motion. Tip to hilt. If you hold what you're cutting like this," he slides his hand under your palm, curls his fingers up into it for yours to rest against. "You won't lose your fingertips. Keep your fingers pinched at the base of the blade and you'll have more control."

You hum, considering this.

"It almost feels like an extension of me." You say more to yourself than the man attached to you. Your weight leans in the direction you're cutting, bringing Sweet Tooth with you like a shadow. He watches you work that thought down to the bone along with the remaining onions and potatoes on the cutting board.

Something about clicking the skillet back on after you add the vegetables puts two and two together for you, like remembering something once you get to the bottom of the stairs.

"Is this what it's like with your machete?"

Sweet Tooth makes a low, thoughtful sound. It reverberates through your bones, settles into the marrow and he doesn't miss it when your pulse stutters into a sprint at the sensation.

"Most good things should feel like an extension of you, I think." His voice is bright, smile wide behind his mask. "Some things feel that way because they're made well. Other things, it's like you grow into it. You take the time to understand it, nurture that bond, and you become..." He stops, then, brain wholly preoccupied by you taking a slice of carrot from the board and bringing it to your lips, taking his hand with it. Something hot braids slick in his in gut. The heat of your breath bleeds through the skin of his gloves and he can't. He can't say it.

Intertwined.

"Want one?" You've already got a slice of carrot up to his chin. He separates from you just long enough to expose his mouth, and in a moment he's eaten it.

In another, his mouth is on you.

His lips find your neck, settles on the sensitive skin of your throat. Feels it contract when you gasp. Gloved hands retreat from yours, take up residence under the hem of your tank top, travel the expanse of soft skin around your navel, the base of your ribs. The ribbed knit of your top sticks a bit when he peels it up, soaked through with arterial spray from earlier that's dried and set into the cotton by now. It leaves a scaly, sticky texture under your bust, and before you can protest the behavior Sweet Tooth's tongue is laving it from your skin in hot, wet stripes.

"Right now, Needles?" You try to keep your tone even, you really do. But he's licking what you know is someone else's blood off of you and the blood in your head is rushing to needier places at the moment. "With food on the stove?"

He ignores you, of course. You pry yourself from him, force yourself to drop the stove to min once again and all the while he's muttering little apologies as he follows you:

"'m sorry. couldn't help it. didn't mean to."

He's not apologetic for very long.

There's no shame in the way he positions you against the sink, bent slightly at the hip, elbows bowed to brace yourself between the counter and the weight of him behind you. That weight lessens a moment, just long enough for the sound of zipper teeth to catch the air. Your nostrils flare at the sound, and Sweet Tooth can't help but admire the way your hips cant back for him on reflex. Your tank top and sports bra are in a bundle at your armpits, your pants are still fully on, but nonetheless you react. Smooth leather slides over the swell of your hips. One hand settles where you've pivoted for him to hold you in place, and the other moves forward to unfasten your jeans. He only opens it enough to fit that hand in, to press the seams of his gloved fingers against your cunt through the fabric of your underwear and like many other things he knows this before touching you: you're already wet.

Sweet Tooth eases your pants off of you. Your underwear comes with it, and he lifts you up with that other hand just enough for you to kick the heap of fabric off your ankles. He lets you reposition yourself on the lip of the sink for all of three seconds before he removes the space between you. That first finger slides in, all the way to the knuckle and in a moment you're folded against the counter. The beveled edge of the granite is cold against your skin, bites into your hips and promises to bruise from the pressure but you don't care.

It's the first stretch you like the most - the sweet tension before your body goes slack and he starts finger-fucking you open in earnest, pressing open-mouthed kisses onto the backs of your shoulders and your neck, dragging his teeth against you until raised marks form. With your weight settled properly against the counter now, that other hand finds your clit. He pinches it just to make you clench around him before he sets a steady pace of rolling it under the pad of his middle finger.

"W-E-T," Sweet Tooth spells. His voice is rough, but you can still hear the chuckle in his throat when he asks, "What's that spell?" And he adds that second finger, curls them both inside you in a way that makes you hiss with pleasure.

"It spells—ah!—fuck you," you snipe back, but it's toothless. Stars swim in your vision. Your lower half tingles and all you can think about is the heat of his cock rubbing against the inside of your thigh each time he ruts against you.

"W-R-O-N-G. Might have to spell 'detention' next, sweetheart." There's just a drop of venom in his voice, the part of him that gets off on having power over you. It's this part of him that dips his head into the crook between your neck and shoulder and bites down hard. Hard enough to pull a strangled cry from you, half-surprised, half-pleasured, wholly addled by lust. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to leave two parallel rows of bruises blossoming under the skin.

Needles catches the white of your eyes flash up at him in the reflection of the glass. You're clever, keen enough to sense that shift in his tone even three fingers deep and he'd reward you for it. If you earned it. His hand leaves your clit to palm himself finally, allowing you just a moment to focus on him. "Next one's a twofer, honey, so pay attention."

You try. It's hard, with his fingers scissoring slow, deliberate strokes inside of you, but you bite down on your lip and you try.

"C-A-V-I-T-Y. What's that spell, hmm?" There's an edge to Needles' tone, like he's testing a blade against his thumb to see how much pressure it takes to pierce. A fresh wave of ache, raw and new from his teeth on your neck, pulls you away from the edge of an orgasm just enough to form a response.

"Cavity," you breathe, and your voice warbles from the effort. You can barely see the whites of his eyes under his mask in the window, pupils blown and locked on you. There's a tacky sound - skin on skin - and without seeing you know it's him squeezing himself faster. Needles shudders against you, some low, animal noise coming from him that makes your blood feel superheated in your veins.

"Clever." And it doesn't quite feel like a compliment when Needles says it so much as it feels like the other shoe preparing to drop. "And what do we do with cavities?" He sounds twice as pointed, voice a ragged thing in his throat and you want to stay cogent, you really do -

but you really need to come.

It's too much. You know the answer but your brain strains to grasp the word and bring it to your lips.

We fill them.

You can't say it. Tears prick your eyes, the apple of your throat bobbing on a wordless cry and that tell-tale tension starts to seize you, just before the dam breaks, just before -

Needles takes his fingers out.

You're almost mad at him for it.

"What do we do?" He enunciates, unimpressed, or...impatient?

Was he...waiting for you to finish his setup? It seems he is, because he lets you get a few breaths in you without punishment before tapping the leaking tip of his cock against your cunt as if begging the question.

"Fill them," You finally gasp. "We—"

Marcus Kane sinks into you.

It's like this: tip to hilt, a rocking motion, like you're an extension of him. All good things feel like an extension of the body, and from this angle he's not sure where you end and where he begins. He likes you like this, wet and trembling and split open on his cock, all the air in your body dedicated to him.

He doesn't let you move at first; he just holds you there, lets you feel the steady and relentless pressure of him spreading you on the length of his dick until he bottoms out so deep inside you that for a moment you can't stop clenching around him, some nerve hit and held down inside you. There's some confusion on what to call him. Sweet Tooth, Needles, Baby, please, rightthere, fuck - he'll answer to any and all of those, but he leaves you hanging on his length until you say his name.

"Marcus—" you finally sob. You're unbearably full. Each time he twitches inside of you, you clench around him like a sympathetic response, your body attuned to him on some synaptic level. "Please."

It's all you have to say.

Marcus breathes your name like it's precious in his lungs, and then he moves. His hips stutter forward, just that much deeper inside of you after having spent so long around him and it hits that spot in you, soft and vulnerable and you finally come undone. It starts with a litany of gasps, your core squeezing and spasming until your whole body feels like a clenched fist. He fucks you through it , relishes the staccato of your voice on the pace of his thrusts until that last moan climbs up and out of you with such volume it echoes off the tiles. He brings his hand down to your clit, circling it with each squeeze you give him, thrusting shallow and persistent against that spot until your legs dangle nerveless over the lip of the sink, until your orgasm rides the road of your body and all that's left is the two of you, intertwined.

You're dripping when he starts moving again.

He's vaguely aware of the CD starting over when he starts pumping in and out of you, filling and hollowing, shaping you to fit the bend and weight of his cock. This is how it's supposed to be—he belongs here. Inside you, with your head turned to kiss him so he can swallow each moan that spills out of you, with your legs hanging slack and open, swinging to the rhythm he fucks into you. Your chest heaves with effort, eyes glassy, already fucked out and touch-wrecked but you still lean into him, seeking his touch like a lizard to a hot stone. He could kill you right now and you'd let him. You could kill him right now and he'd let you, so long as he dies like this. So long as the last thing he feels is you.

Wet, vulgar sounds echo off the counters and the walls, and Marcus absently wonders if the neighbors can hear you. Can hear him, grunting so deep in his chest that his teeth feel like they're rattling. They could show up and moment looking for their tennis partners and neither of you can bring yourselves to care. It's a conscious effort to look at you, to hold you in his mind's eye what for the way his eyes keep rolling back in his head each time your walls press around him. You're both sticky from sweat, your thighs a mess of your own release and his precome steady forming a rope from the join of you to the floor. It's when you start babbling again that Marcus picks up his pace, feeling his own release creeping up in kind.

"Fuck! I'm gonna—" You swallow suddenly, hearing yourself for the first time in several minutes, voice foreign in your throat. "Gonna come." You're secretly glad he doesn't ask you to spell it.

"You're doing so good for me, baby." His voice thrums against the shell of your ear, calm, quiet, breathy. Like he's somewhere else, somewhere only the two of you can go, and only like this. "Almost there, just...hold on."

You hum, or as close an approximation you can get with a raw throat.

"So well."

Marcus makes a low questioning noise, slows just enough for you to say,

"Doing so well."

You can only moan, then, when he shifts his angle and drives into you from a new angle, driving the breath from you, but you hear him chuckle. It's a quick, biting thing, like he didn't mean to let it out but you hear it and Marcus fucks this new pattern into you it's what you focus on when your second, screaming orgasm shoots through you from gut to the space between your eyes and everywhere in between. Marcus comes just after with a desperate groan of his own, hips pumping sans rhythm until he unloads all he has inside you. He thrusts a bit more for good measure, slave to the feel of you tightening obediently around him — or bound by the need to make you utterly his. He can't tell anymore, and he can't care. His only cogent thought is how lovely you look folded over the sink like this, dripping in sweat, chest rising and falling in gasping, labored breaths. You're looking up at him in the reflection, ignorant of the world on the other side of that glass.

The sunlight filters through leaves now, the day landing on your skin from a different angle. Marcus resolves to kiss each dappled spot of sunlight from your skin and he's well on his way to do it until you start squirming desperately. Wordlessly, he lets you down, holds your hips to support your ambitious efforts to stand after such a thorough fucking and it's you who speaks first, after everything.

"The chicken..." Is all you can say. "I forgot the fucking chicken."

And the bubble pops, the music drones back in. Your afterglow is interrupted by the sight of your poor veggies sitting wilted and dried-out on the skillet, not quite burnt, but not exactly Michelin dining, either. Browned patches of butter cling to various spots on the skillet, a few degrees away from scorching. The chicken lies neglected and uncut where you'd left it, never even a contender in the morning's itinerary.

Sweet Tooth laughs. "We got the 'fucking' part down, at least!"

You turn to him, a pout set deep into the lines of your face, and that's all it takes for Sweet Tooth to get roped into cooking while you shower, raid the pantry, and spend the afternoon resting your aching legs on the chaise with Harold. Sweet Tooth doesn't mind. You've got this way of making anywhere feel like home, and even if the two of you won't be sticking around here, he might be convinced to spend a few days. At least until the fridge gets emptied...and definitely after you try out the beds.

And the shower.

And the couches.

There's something he's been meaning to ask you, now that you're stretched out catlike in the other room. He shouts for you, the shape of your name upturned in a question.

"Yeah?" You call back, voice wrecked, but he can hear the smile on your lips.

"What's your favorite animal?"

#.txt #twisted metal #sweet tooth #needles kane x reader #sweet tooth x reader #wraithwrites #twisted metal fanfiction #icon is not white because i am not white and i never see brown skinned ppl in these x reader gfx #slasher x reader

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hyperactively-me · 8 months

Text

king!ghost x reader -- exploratory

it’s giving anakin and padme in the fields in that one scene from attack of the clones except add in smut 💐

warnings: smut, virgin!reader, loss of virginity, missionary (also yes i am aware that this is fantasy and theres no protection here, she's not gonna get pregnant from this time because i say so lol i make the rules!)

Under the vast expanse of the open sky, the gentle clip-clop of hooves resonated through the serene countryside. You and Ghost rode side by side on your horses, the wind playing with your hair as you explored the winding trails and rolling hills of Kastron. You were rarely let out of the castle, so this little day trip with Ghost was meaningful to you. You were excited to see the natural beauty of Kastron. There was an air of freedom around you, the two of you escaping your responsibilities just for today, finding solace in the beauty of nature.

As you rounded a bend, the landscape before you transformed into a breathtaking sea of color. A ginormous flower field stretched out like a living painting, petals swaying in the breeze like waves on a tranquil sea. Your eyes widened in awe, a delighted gasp escaping your lips. You reined in your horse, a large grin forming on your face.

“Simon, look at this!” you exclaimed, your voice tinged with excitement.

Ghost pulled his horse to a stop beside you, his gaze following your pointing finger. The corner of his lips quirked up as he studied your reaction, his normally stoic expression softening in the presence of your sheer delight.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, his voice warm.

You turned to him, your eyes sparkling. “I've never seen anything like it! I’m going to see it up close.” You slide off the saddle, patting your mare before turning to face the fields.

"Of course," Ghost replied, his tone holding a hint of amusement. He sits high atop his horse, studying your form.

The scent of flowers filled the air, wrapping around your body as you entered the field. The world was a carousel of colors – vibrant reds, delicate pinks, and radiant yellows, – all coming together to create a rainbow.

Unable to contain your enthusiasm, you let out a joyful whoop, throwing your arms up in the arm. You spin around, your arms outstretched, face upturned to the warm sun. Your laughter blended with the rustling of greenery in the breeze. Turning your gaze to Simon, you found him watching you with an affectionate glint in his eyes. Your elation mirrored his expression, and a comfortable silence settled between you.

With a mischievous grin, you whip around and take off running through the field, your feet sinking into the soft earth with each step you take. Simon’s gasps for a moment, watching you take off. He jumps off his horse, following you as you twirl and skip amidst the flowers. His heart swells in his chest at your joy, in your simple infatuation with the fields of flowers. You’re dozens of feet ahead of him, your dress whipping in the wind as you frolick.

Yet, as you looked back to see where Simon was, you stumbled over your own feet, your laughter mixing with a surprised yelp as you fell to the ground. Simon’s heart lurches, and he breaks out into a sprint towards you, his concern immediate.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?” he asks, chest heaving, falling to his knees beside you on the ground.

You roll over onto your back, your hands hiding your face. He can’t tell if you’re laughing or crying.

“D- don’t cry,” he says gently, hands hovering over your form.

You bring your hands down over your mouth, and he sees your eyes are filled with mischief.

You burst into laughter, unable to contain the amusement bubbling within you. As your eyes meet his concerned gaze, you can’t help but laugh even harder, your mirth contagious.

“I- I’m not crying, Simon!” you manage to get out between fits of laughter.

Simon blinks at you, clearly confused by your reaction. Relief starts to mingle with his confusion as he watches you laugh, and then his lips slowly curl into a reluctant smile.

“You scared me for a moment,” he says, letting out an exhale. He looks at you, your smile, your beautiful face, and it suddenly feels like he can’t breathe. He rips his balaclava off his face unexpectedly, catching you off guard. You look up at him, mouth slightly agape as your laughter dies down.

Suddenly, he straddles you, swinging his legs on each side of your body. He presses his hands into your shoulders, fingers gently squeezing your soft skin. You gasp at the feeling of his body on top of yours, and you bring your hands up to hold his wrists. You grin up at him, your eyes dancing with amusement. The flowers you’re laying in surround you like a colorful crown. The sight of you laying amongst them makes Simon’s heart pound.

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m just clumsy…” you murmur, brushing his tousled hair with your fingers.

He just looks at you. Your eyes flit to his mouth, his lips slightly parted. He hovers over you, unspoken desires hanging in the balance of the moment.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to do all day,” you whisper, trailing one of your hands up his chest.

Before he could respond, you closed your grip on his tunic and gently tugged, pulling him down towards you. The surprise in his eyes turned to a mixture of warmth and anticipation as your lips met in a soft, tender kiss.

He groans quietly into your mouth, his hands drag up from your shoulders to cup your face.

As you pulled away, Simon’s lips curved into a genuine smile. "That was worth tripping for."

You chuckled, your fingers tracing patterns on the fabric of his tunic. "Definitely worth it."

He kisses you again, pressing his hulking body on top of you. He slides his tongue into your mouth, his hands cupping your cheeks to deepen the kiss. You gasp into the kiss, eyes instinctively screwing shut because you’re so full of anticipation and your body has gone to jelly because Simon is engulfing your senses, so big and strong, so perfect, as he kisses you.

The warmth of his body against yours ignites a fire within you, the moment intensifying as he gives you more, more, more. Every touch, every caress means something more than it ever has before.

He breaks away from the kiss, panting with his face flushed. He licks his lips, pupils blown as he stares at you with nothing but adoration.

“Si, please.”

That nickname, the breathy please that fell from your lips.

It was over for him.

In an instant, he’s latched onto your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses along your skin, hands running down the sides of your body. He presses his hands into your sides, squeezing your soft curves. He lifts his head up from your neck when you let out the quietest, breathy moan. He looks down at you, your mouth slightly agape, his eyes search your face.

“Do you trust me?”

You lick your lips, nodding your head.

“No, no, darling, I need to hear you. Use your words.”

You shudder at his words, at his implications. “Yes, I trust you.”

“Good girl.”

He delves back into your neck, sliding his hand behind your head to push you closer to him.

“Wanna make y’feel good,” he mumbles into your neck between kisses, nipping at the sensitive skin. Warmth floods your face as he speaks, your core growing wet with arousal. You press your thighs together in an attempt to alleviate the growing pressure in your core, your clit throbbing as he kisses you.

Your hands brush over his broad shoulders, swallowing as he works on your neck. Suddenly, he starts sucking hard at your skin, putting pressure into the curve. He kisses a trail from your neck, up to your jaw, then the corner of your mouth. You gasp quietly, and he pulls away, admiring his work. The feeling of his feather light breath on your skin makes you shiver ever so slightly, arching your body up into him. He lets out an amused huff, running his fingers through your hair.

“What do you want, lovie?” he coos, twirling your hair in his fingers.

“Everything,” you moan lightly, your fingers finding their way into his hair, pulling him close to you as your heart races.

He nods once, then tilts his head to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. He’s so gentle with you, methodical and patient in a way you’ve never experienced or expected from someone like him.

“‘M gonna take my time with you,” he says gently, searching your eyes. “Tell me, please, tell me if it’s ever too much at any point.”

You cup his face with your hands. He flicks away a stray flower petal that fell into your hair.

“I trust you,” you smile at him, stroking a thumb along his cheek.

With that, he slowly makes his way down to your legs, hands pressing into your ankles as he starts to lift your legs over his shoulders. He starts to bunch up the skirt of your dress, pulling it up ever so slightly to give him access to your dripping core.

“Wait, won’t someone—”

“No one will see, I promise,” he says firmly, giving you a reassuring squeeze before delving under the skirt of your dress. “Besides, there's no one around here for miles,” he chuckles under your skirt.

The anticipation nearly kills you as you feel his hot breath on the insides of your thighs, your pussy throbbing for pleasure. He peppers light kisses on the insides of your thighs, calloused hands gripping onto your supple skin with purpose. One of his hands cups your clothed sex, a finger tracing the thin cotton of your panties. You’re so wet already, and he had only kissed you.

“S’ wet already,” he murmurs. “Sweet girl.”

You gasp, hands reaching out to your sides in the earth as he slowly, agonizingly slowly, pulls your panties down your legs and around your ankles.

And then, as soon as he fully pulls your panties off, his mouth is on your core, licking a single stripe up your wet pussy. A light moan slips from your lips as this newfound sensation, grasping the grass and flowers around you, pulling at the flimsy stems for support. Simon starts to run his tongue in circular motions around your clit, applying pressure into it as he expertly explores your pussy. You moan louder now, more freely, as he applies pressure, thighs quivering as he sucks on you, lapping your wetness like a man starved.

You can’t take it anymore, you pull your dress off his head, raking your hands through his hair as he laps at your sweet cunt. You watch as he delves in and out, watch as his nose presses against your clit just right, his tongue pressing into your hole ever so slightly. Your back arches as he hits a particularly sensitive spot, tugging his hair as you moan. Simon flits his eyes to you, still lapping at your pussy with an eagerness as he wiggles his eyebrows at you. That cheeky bastard.

“Si,” you whimper, a plea for a moment to take in what you were feeling. You make another sound, a mix between his name and a moan, all high pitched and breathless, and he groans, his pants feeling extra tight and restricting. He exchanges a groan into your core as he holds you tighter.

“Taste s’ good f’me,” he grunts against you, “such a beautiful girl."

His groans are muted but dripping with desire against your wet cunt, pulling and sucking your clit into his mouth. You writhe under him, moans freely slipping from your lips, pressing your core up against his face as you arch your back into him. You can feel him salivating against you, worshiping you like a man starved, like you were the most precious thing in the world. You are to him, though. You’re everything and more to him.

The coil deep within you starts to build towards a climax, your muscles tightening as he works on relaxing you, on helping you reach the pleasure that you so highly deserved.

“Let go,” he says against your clit, squeezing your thighs in encouragement. The huskiness of his voice, the way his tongue expertly explores your core is enough for the coil in your abdomen to unravel, and you cum on his tongue. You moan breathlessly, muttering his name, chest heaving as you let go.

“Sweet, sweet girl,” he breathes as he pulls away, licking your dripping wetness from his lips. “Perfect, beautiful girl.”

You keen at his praises, tugging at his hair harder as he lifts up from your core. His cheeks are flushed, lips swollen. You’re panting, heart racing, staring up into the sky, blissed out from your first orgasm. You whimper as you watch him lick his lips, and you reach your hands out for him to come to you. He immediately obeys, and as he hovers over you, you can see how his cock is straining against his pants. You push yourself up onto your elbows, eyeing his bulge for a moment before he kisses you, hard and deep. He shoves his tongue in your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue.

“So good,” you say in between kisses. Your hands dragging up to the collar of his shirt. You start to paw on it, wanting him to take it off.

“Take this off, please,” you beg, fingers sloppily moving to the buttons of his shirt.

The way you say please so prettily, he’ll do anything for you. Anything.

He doesn’t wait to unbutton each of the buttons of his shirt, so he rips the shirt off, popping the buttons off as he rips the shirt off.

“Ohhh-kay,” you whisper, taking in his bare chest. This wasn’t like when he fell into the lake, no, no, this was better. You run your hands over scars littered across his coarse skin, feeling him shudder under the touch of your soft hands. He lets you just, touch him, feel him. It’s quite nice, honestly, he thinks. He studies your face, your eyes growing wide as you run your hands across his chest and up to his broad shoulders, and squeeze them tightly.

Absent-mindedly, Simon reaches up by the side of your head, plucking a rather large wildflower from the ground. Slowly, he slips the flower behind your ear, pushing away stray strands of hair from your face.

“So beautiful, darling,” he sighs contentedly, his voice confident and full of pure affection.

His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the world around you seems to fade away. A warm blush creeps onto your cheeks as you smile at Simon, your heart fluttering in your chest. His touch is gentle, and his actions speak of a tenderness that leaves you breathless. You find yourself lost in his deep, brown eyes.

“I’m yours, Si,” you murmur, as you start to slip the sleeves of your dress off your shoulders. “All yours.”

He watches, entranced, as you pull your sleeves down lower and lower, and immediately he reaches up to help you. He takes the fabric of your gown into his hands, and he shimmies it up and off your frame, casting it to the side.

His breath is caught in his throat as he takes in your naked form, eyes unabashedly raking down your body. You swallow the lump in your throat, the nervousness once taking a hold of you dissipating as he looks at you with nothing but adoration and devotion. His hands trace down your shoulders to your breasts, an animalistic desire to take you then and there strong. But no, no, he was going to take his time, be gentle, focus solely on you.

“You really don’t understand what you do to me,” he says, kneading the pillowy flesh of your breasts in his hands, tweaking your nipple, pulling a string of light moans from you.

He lowers his head down, latching onto your nipple with a contended hum. His hand grazes from your side, past your thigh, and down to your dripping core. His fingers tease your clit, and you gasp with a jolt. He chuckles against your breast, mouth moving to your other. His finger traces down from your clit to your entrance, and just before he pushes a finger in, you gasp out.

“I– I’ve never—”

He raises his head immediately, looking at your flushed face. You bite your lip, eyes looking away with embarrassment. Simon’s face morphs into a gentle, reassuring smile.

“Shh, shh, I understand. Let me take care of you, darling,” he coos, stroking your skin. “Relax f’me.”

With a breath, you nod your head, and try your best to relax your muscles, breathing in and out steadily. You stare up into the sky for a moment, grounding yourself, watching passing clouds casting shadows all around.

He agonizingly slowly plunges a single finger inside you, stilling for a moment as he feels you adjust. You shudder for a moment, your mouth open slightly as you take in his thick digit.

“Good, good girl,” he encourages, slowly pumping his finger inside you. Your back arches involuntarily, your hand sweeping in the flowers, plucking some out of the ground from your grip.

Simon grabs your hand with his free hand, allowing you to squeeze it as he works his way into you with a second finger. He starts curling his fingers inside you, reaching places you never knew existed. You let out breathy moans, gripping his hand as he picks up the pace, fucking you with his fingers.

“So perfect,” he mutters, pressing his thumb into the thumb of your hand, massaging it slightly.

“Simon, feels good,” you manage to spit out, your eyes fluttering closed as you just feel. Your wetness is gushing around his fingers.

“That’s it, lovie,” he encourages, voice sickeningly sweet. “Just one more.”

He plunges a third finger in, and you have to hold yourself back from screaming.

“My perfect girl,” he praises as you take in his third finger, now reaching deep inside you. A deep set moan releases from your throat as you take in three of his fingers, wincing just a bit from the large adjustment, but feeling pleasure nonetheless. Simon remains the embodiment of thoughtfulness and care, taking you in as you are, knowing that he has the privilege of being intimate with you. The way he stares at you in amazement, in awe, in affection has something growing even deeper within him. He loves the way he can make you come undone, the way he’s the only one who is allowed to see this side of you, the way he’s the only you trust fully and completely like this.

And with that, he can’t hold back anymore. He kisses you deeply, his fingers working in you slowly, methodically.

“Simon, please,” you beg, panting between kisses, your core aching for more than just his fingers, “need you.” Your clit is throbbing as he presses into it, building up another orgasm. The way your fingers flutter around his fingers makes his cock jump, suddenly painfully aware of how badly he wants to be inside you right now.

“I know, darling,” he soothes, yanking his pants down, his aching cock springing free from the confines of the fabric. You start to feel your muscles pulling, your wetness building up as his fingers hit a spot inside you, beckoning you to cum.

“Cum on my fingers,” he grunts, the pressure of your velvety cunt around his fingers making him move faster, reach deeper. You swallow heavily, your hips bucking into his hand a few times before cumming, soaking his fingers.

“I need you, Si,” you’re practically crying, pawing at his chest for more. Your clit is throbbing, cunt aching for his cock.

“I know, sweetheart,” he says again, sucking your slick off his fingers with a satisfied hum. You watch him, mouth agape.

“Please,” you groan again, wrapping your legs around his waist, beckoning him towards you.

In a rush, he’s checking you over, making sure you’re comfortable in the plush grass before lining the tip of his cock up with your entrance.

Slowly, he pushes the tip inside you, letting you adjust to the size of his cock for a moment. Your eyes threaten to roll into the back of your head as he barely pushes his way inside you, but this feels better than his fingers. Much better. The stretch wasn’t without some pain, but you bear with it, gripping onto him as he starts to push himself inside you further.

“I know, I know, you’re nearly there, sweetheart,” he coos into your ear, his deep voice rattling your eardrums.

He lets out his own moan, feeling the way your pussy squeezes him just right. Your back arches at the sensation, a gargled moan slipping from your lips, encouraging him to slide the full length of his cock into you.

“F– fuck, lovie,” he moans, his voice high-pitched and husky. “So perfect—”

He finally bottoms out, hips meeting yours as you both pant, the stretch feeling so fucking good. He stills for a moment, relishing the way you squeeze and flutter around him, relishing the way your face is contorted into nothing but pleasure.

“Fuck me,” you plead, hands reaching to his shoulders as he hovers over you.

He grunts and thrusts himself into you as deep as he can. And it’s nothing like you’ve ever felt before. You can barely breathe as he sets a pace, slow yet not teasing. He works his way into you with a reigned fervor, his hands gripping onto you like you could break into a million pieces. You feel like you’re floating on air, your back arching, pressing into him as he pumps inside of you. Your eyes are half-lidded, your vision being taken up entirely by Simon. His eyes meet yours and for a moment, you swear he falters. He’s taken with you entirely, your eyes on him is all he needs to be happy in this world, he decides.

He hisses as you drag your fingernails down his back, holding onto him as he starts to move faster, harder.

“My beautiful, perfect wife,” he grunts, rocking into you. He beckons you to wrap your legs around his waist, yanking you closer to him.

“So soft, so soft,” he groans, lips meeting your neck in an open mouthed, sloppy kiss. “S’ happy you’re my wife.”

Your face flushes at his words, too flattered by his words to say anything. Pure bliss courses through you as he praises you, fucking into you like a man starved. He hits a region deep inside you, and you moan abruptly.

“That’s it,” he groans, his own eyes threatening to roll into the back of his head as he watches you intently. A coil builds faster by the second, your stomach muscles clenching.

“Si—” you manage to moan, your hands moving up from his back to cup his face.

Tears blur your vision as you stroke his cheek, and he almost stops thrusting in you at the sweet action. In a flash, he’s moving faster, the colors of the flowers around your body becoming a blur as his vision narrows in on you, you, you.

His hands slide down to grip your waist, his hold on you tightening. Your hands move to clasp around his neck, pulling at the hair on the nape of his neck, your movements sloppy as he fucks you so nicely, so perfectly. He has to will himself to stay upright on top of you, wanting to pass out from how fucking beautiful you look, how fucking perfect you are to him.

“You’re so fucking perfect, my perfect wife,” he moans, trying to express just how much he fucking loves this, how much he holds you in high regard.

“I love you,” you blurt out, yanking him down on you. And then he’s pulling all the way out, just to slam into you again, and he can’t even find the proper words to respond, just absolutely fucking you into the flowers.

“I love you,” he strangles out, bucking his hips helplessly into yours, and you press a kiss on his shoulder. “I love you, I love you,” he groans, letting you pull his face towards yours as you give him a deep, sloppy kiss.

“I’ve loved you–” you try to say, your mind foggy as you leave open mouthed kisses along his face and neck, going down to his collarbone as he ruts into you. Simon mewls, his head dropping to your neck as you work on his skin. The coil within you is about to snap, your wetness coating his cock perfectly.

“Let go,” he says, pumping into you deeply, hitting a point that his fingers couldn’t even reach. “Let go, sweetheart.”

With that, you let out a garbled moan as you cum on his cock, clenching your eyes shut as you ride out your orgasm, the world fading away as if it's just you and him. His cock twitches inside of you as your walls flutter around him, his cock pulsating and throbbing, pent up from fucking into you. He breathes heavily, cumming into you with no remorse. God, you think you see stars as you feel him fill you up, moaning lightly as he slows to a stop. Simon is hovering over you, his hands planted on both sides of your face.

“I love you,” you say again, wrapping your arms around his neck, prompting him to lay on top of you. He stares at you, mouth agape, blinking slowly.

“I thought I dreamt you saying that,” Simon says quietly, before letting himself drop on top of you. You grunt as he lets his full body weight rest on top of you, but you didn’t mind. It felt good. Felt so good having your husband laying on you like this, after the most intimate moment you’ve ever shared with him up until this point.

He turns his face to press a kiss to your cheek. He picks more flowers from the side, stuffing them behind your ear, pushing stray hair out of your face so he can see you clearly.

“I meant what I said,” you whisper, voice hoarse. You brush some stray grass out of Simon’s hair as he goes to lay his head down in your neck.

“I know you did,” he whispers back, inhaling your scent.

“I love you, too,” he says, leaving a gentle kiss on your pulse.

. . .

After laying together for a little longer, he begrudgingly gets up to slide his pants back on. He goes over to your dress and undergarments, again, begrudgingly helping you get dressed again. You blush as he slides your panties back on your legs, breath seizing in his throat. When he finally pulls up the sleeves of your dress, you take his hand in yours.

“Si, I honestly don’t think I can ride my horse back home,” you blush, securing the flowers behind your ear.

“Ah,” he nods, looking down at you with a small smirk. “Of course.”

Suddenly, he scoops you into his arms, carrying you as though you weigh nothing. You let out a small yelp, fastening your arms around his neck securely as he makes his way over to the horses, both grazing on some grass a while away.

As he approaches his horse, he sets you down for just a moment, reigning in your mare. With a lead, he attaches your mare to his horse. You watch him for a moment before he’s back on you, lifting you up so you can sit side saddle on his horse. With a grunt, he swings on behind you, gripping your waist so you can sit steady.

“Thank you,” you smile, leaning your cheek on his chest.

“Anything for you,” he says, motioning the horses to go home.

You didn’t notice the bouquet of flowers he had shoved in his back pocket.

A souvenir to remember this day by.

- - - - -

(masterlist)

#FINALLY #tooth rotting sweetness exudes from this smut #blushing so hard #cheesin so big #i'm screaming at my own fic #i'm so lonely #i'm going insane #i'm eating drywall #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon “ghost” riley x reader #simon “ghost” riley x you #hyperactivelyme

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kiwanopie · 1 year

Text

Strawberry Jam

Your best friend has a sweet tooth.

cw: college!bokuto, oral(f!receving), dubcon, manhandling if you squint. 1.3k

“Ah shit!” Bokuto frowns. “I dropped my pencil.”

You absently hum at the sound of his voice from the ledge of your laptop. “Hm-?”

The sound of a skidding chair barely disrupts your line of focus from where it’s locked on your midterm - but the sound of his head knocking a bit against the underside of the table does pull a little chuckle from you. You glance at your keyboard through a few dull taps on your mousepad, but at the very least you’re considerate enough to mumble a quiet ‘You okay?’

Bokuto makes a huffy little whining sound that you opt to ignore in favor of letting your best friend crawl about the carpet like a mouse. Patting his palms against the plush nylon of your bedroom floor as he searches for his pencil, and you’re really no help when you make less than an effort to move your legs as he knocks against them.

The blue light turns the darkening room behind you a washed navy, whatever he just knocked his back against just unplugged the desk light. “You can just borrow one of mine y’know.”

“But this one’s special! It has my name engraved on it and everything!”

“Why would you-“ You spam the backspace bar for a loud couple clicks. “Why would you buy something like that if you know it’s gonna get shaved away anyway?”

“Because it’s cool… And I’ll know if someone steals it!”

Bokuto roots for the little punctures on the outlet through a few messy jabs of his fingers. “Your room eats up all my stuff.”

The fact that you can physically hear him pouting is enough to make you wanna audibly scoff. Especially when his little nest across the hall has already swallowed up a pair of your headphones, a few mismatched socks, and a volume of that manga you’ve been collecting since last spring. And anyways, it’s totally his fault. He’s the one who keeps treating your room like a second bedroom. You can’t even sift through your hamper without finding some of your clothes mixed up with his.

But instead of making that point, you pull a little piece of skin off your bottom lip that tastes metallic when you tuck it under your tongue, switching tabs to double check your sources and mumble a little sarcastically under your breath. “Sorry ‘bout my room eating your stuff.”

The way the room bursts into a warm haze barely phases you anymore than the hollow tap of thin wood clinking just before your feet. If Bokuto’s gasp should mean anything, a number two pencil gets to live to see another day.

“Find it?”

“I found it!”

Bokuto snorts at your halfhearted ‘Hoorah.” as he turns on his knees to crawl out from under the table. Blithely grunting his way through the cramped little space, but stopping on the heel of his palm when he notices something.

“Oh, hey!”

“Hmm?”

He ducks his head for a better view of your skirt. “What’s up with these undies?”

“Hm? Oh.” You lift your back a little, even still your eyes are locked on the screen. “You got a problem with Strawberry Shortcake?”

“No, I like them! They’re cute.”

You blow a tickled breath out through your nose. You should kick him for being a perv and peeking up your skirt. But really you’re just thankful he didn’t tease you for being childish after you just ragged on his special pencil.

Your elbow digs into the desk with a squeak as you rest your jaw in your palm, your voice is an absent drone. “Thanks, they’re strawberry flavored.”

The shift key clicks as you start a new paragraph.

And then your knees are colliding with the table. “Wha- They’re not actually strawberry flavored!”

The way you startledly flinch is hardly enough to deter Bokuto’s hot mouth from the front side of your panties, but the way he hums - runs a thorough lick through your clothed slit and pulls away, makes it hard for you not to outwardly shutter. “They’re not? No way, I totally taste it.”

“Bokut-“ You lay your hand against his scalp when he leans in to dig his nose in. “Don’t just start doing something like that out of nowhere!”

Wow, he’s really slobbering all over those poor things isn’t he? “Y’want me to stop?”

“N-…No, but-”

He digs his tongue in with a fervor.

It’s a few tempered licks before he’s finally reaching forward to tug your panties to the side, molten tongue massaging attentively over your clit as the way he’s all but mushing his head into your soaked cunt inclines you to scoot into your seat. - Although the distance is short lived. You’re helpless to stop him when he uses his weight to push the chair back enough to lift his head freely, and you're all but yanked onto your back as he secures your legs over his shoulders, lifting on his knees to eat you out from a better angle.

The position is a little awkward but the sensation is incredible. This guy is drinking you up like it’s all he knows how to do. The angle opens you up from top to bottom, his tongue doesn’t leave a spot untouched. You’d almost be embarrassed with all the noise you’re making, but his drunken moans are a contest to yours.

“Ko, you’re-“ Oh god, your poor chair. “You’re… making such a mess…!”

He makes a gluttonned sound of indignation. “S’your fault. ‘Pussy tastes so good…”

You whine. That’s your best friend talking to you like that. You don’t even know where this came from. One minute he’s a bumbling teddy bear, rooting around your carpet for his stupid novelty pencil, the next he’s-

“You’re g’nna cum in my mouth?” He noses your clit. “Gonna let me drink your cum? Yeah?”

You claw at the arms locked over your thighs. “Koutarou! K-Ko! Fuck… Oh my god…”

“You taste so fucking sweet. What kind of friend holds out on another when they know they’ve got the-“ The way he spits on your messy cunt makes your pretty eyes roll. “Most perfectest pussy in the whole wide world?”

That’s not a word. But you get the sentiment. Especially when he punctuates it by circling his middle finger around your tight little hole and eases it in with his tongue pressed against your clit. Deep guttural groan that reverberates throughout your entire body at the way your cunt suckles on his finger, gushing for him so eagerly that you start to drip down his arm. Your pretty pussy seems intent on making him fall in love with it. Love struck even when he slides another finger in. And it’s all he can do not go mad when you start to drunkenly hump into his face.

“Oh god, Ko! Fuck me! Fuck me!”

Bokuto moans as your legs lock behind his shoulders, you’re so fucking hot he could die. “Mhm! Mhm!”

He’s rocking into you so thoroughly with his fingers that the chair starts to creek. The way the veins in his arm deliciously pop is enough to send you over the edge. “Ohhhh fuck! Cumming! m’ cumming!”

Bokuto sloshes his tongue over your clit as you spasm around his fingers. Wet noises double in volume as he continues to fuck into you, even when your leg kicks up from the amount of overstimulation. He just barely gives when you start to push his head away.

“Sorry, sorry!” Bokuto raises his head. “You’re just too fucking good.”

He helps you shimmy your sodden panties down your legs as you tiredly upright yourself in your seat, kissing your knee for good measure. “Hey, we’re still friends right?”

You nod. Though your throbbing clit says otherwise. “Yeah, you’re still my buddy.”

“Yay!” And you could almost giggle at how happy-go-lucky he can still look with your cum all over his face.

He holds your soaked underwear in his hand and they squish a little in his palm. “Can I keep these?”

reblog for our specialized pencil sale! now starting at 5.99 30$

#‘you’re best friend has a sweet tooth’ im so smart #hq smut #bokuto smut #college!bokuto #bokuto koutaro x reader #bokuto x reader #hq bokuto #bokuto imagines #bokuto x you #msby bokuto #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#hq x reader #haikyuu!! smut #hq oneshot #haikyuu oneshot

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shebunie · 5 months

Note

What if reader had a little too much sake and Mizu has to take care of them and reader goes on a tangent about how beautiful they are and how much they love her. It’s silly but I think it can be so sweet to see mizu loved like that!

𝐒𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬

𝗠𝗶𝘇𝘂 𝘅 𝗗𝗿𝘂𝗻𝗸!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝗺𝘂𝘁𝘂𝗮𝗹 𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗮𝗹𝗰𝗼𝗵𝗼𝗹 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘁𝘁𝘆 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝗶𝘁- 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝗮𝘁 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟵𝟯𝟳 𝐀/𝐍: 𝗜 𝗺𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗶𝗻𝗱𝘂𝗹𝗴𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗮 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗮 𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗮𝗺𝘆 𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻 𝗰𝘂𝘇 𝗜'𝗺 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗱𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗯𝗮𝗱

“y’know wha- i’ve alway thought you were th’prettiest person around.” you slurred. Mizu raised a skeptical eyebrow, a rare crack in her usual stoic demeanour. The dimly lit room seemed to shimmer a bit as the effects of the sake intensified for you. With an awkward stumble, you attempted to express your admiration more coherently.

Mizu couldn't deny the warmth that blossomed in her chest, touched by your tipsy admiration. “You're like a beautiful flower. A flower in a world of... water,” you stumbled over your words, your enthusiasm evident despite the alcohol-induced haze.

"Eyes, like a calm lake under the moonlight, dark hair, like the night sky. A masterpiece, Mizu," you declared with a tipsy grin.

Mizu sighed, torn between irritation and a subtle hint of amusement. She found herself caught in a situation she never anticipated – nursing a drunk companion who seemed determined to shower her with affection. As you continued your heartfelt monologue, she couldn't help but notice the sincerity behind your words.

"I never knew you had a poetic side," Mizu remarked, her eyes softening just a fraction. "But you need to sober up. That’s enough for tonight.”

Undeterred, you clumsily reached out, attempting to cup her face with unsteady hands. "No, no, stay with me please."

Mizu's stony facade wavered for a moment as she gently pushed your hands away. "You're not in your right mind. Drink some water," she suggested, trying to redirect the conversation.

But you persisted, your intoxicated enthusiasm unwavering. "Water won't change how I feel about you." Mizu, accustomed to being the strong and silent type, found herself caught off guard by your declarations. She guided you towards a glass of water, a subtle rosiness tinted her normally composed expression.

As you rambled on about love and beauty, Mizu discovered that even the most stone-cold hearts could be stirred by unexpected warmth. Between your slurred words and giggles, she discovered a deeper connection, one that went beyond the usual interactions.

The first light of dawn painted the room in soft hues, Mizu settled you into a makeshift bed, tucking you in with a care that contradicted her usual tough exterior. "Sleep it off. We can talk about this when you're sober," Mizu whispered, her fingers brushing through your hair.

The vulnerability at that moment was a shared secret, a bridge between two souls who had unexpectedly found solace amid intoxication. Eventually, as the effects of the alcohol began to wear off, you drifted into a peaceful slumber, leaving Mizu to reflect on the whimsical and endearing moments of the night.

Sitting beside your peacefully sleeping form, Mizu's eyes traced the details of your flushed face. She found herself captivated by the vulnerability in your slumber, the chaotic charm that had surfaced in your intoxicated state. For a moment, her stoic demeanour wavered as a faint smile played on her lips.

Gazing down at your exposed shoulder, Mizu felt a strange mix of emotions. She raised an arm to adjust your clothing to keep your decency. Until a hand grasped hers, Mizu froze, your fingers gently closed around hers. The warmth of your touch sent a subtle shiver down her spine, and for a moment, she hesitated. Her stoic façade wavered as she met your gaze, searching for any sign that your mumbled words held a deeper meaning.

A soft smile played on your lips as you stirred, your eyes half-lidded and filled with a mixture of vulnerability and sincerity. "I love you so much, you'll stay with me right?" you repeated, the question carrying an unexpected weight.

Mizu's blue eyes, usually as serene as a still pond, betrayed a flicker of uncertainty. She considered the unspoken implications of your words, the subtle shift in the air that seemed to hold the promise of something more intimate.

A moment of silence lingered between you, the room bathed in the soft hues of dawn. Then, Mizu nodded, her fingers gently intertwining with yours. "I'll stay," she replied, her voice a whispered assurance that held a depth beyond the surface.

As you settled back into a peaceful slumber, Mizu remained seated by your side. The room, once filled with the remnants of drunken revelry, now transformed into a sanctuary of quiet intimacy. The dawn light painted soft patterns on the walls, casting a warm glow on both of you.

Mizu found herself studying the contours of your face with a newfound tenderness. The lines that had surfaced in your sleep added a layer of authenticity to the moment. It was as if the sake-induced confessions had paved the way for a connection that transcended the usual boundaries.

Unspoken emotions lingered in the air, and Mizu couldn't help but acknowledge the subtle shift in the dynamic. The touch of your hand had breached the walls she had carefully erected, inviting a closeness that went beyond the camaraderie.

In the quiet intimacy of that morning, Mizu realized that sometimes, unexpected moments held the power to rewrite the scripts of our lives. As the sun rose higher in the sky, casting a warm embrace over the room, Mizu committed herself to staying by your side, not just in the aftermath of a drunk night but in the unfolding chapters of a story that seemed destined to be written in shared glances, whispered words, and the gentle entwining of fingers.

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