#this is OUTRAGEOUS. I WAS WARMING UP???
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the evening stretch | warm-up series.
ft. the prompts, nsfw / "dinner" / arthur morgan.
✧ tags : afab!reader + fem!reader outdoors sex, oral (f!recieving), reader is an outlaw, established relationship, desperate arthur morgan, 18+
✧ wc : 2.7k
✧ a/n : hello! this is part of a little warm-up series i do on my other blog where i pick three prompts and try to come up with something. i normally do them in a rut. im working on a commission and im super stuck so.
this actually landed on javier four times in a row but im being kind and sparing a friend so. here's mr. morgan.
✧ synopsis : arthur thinks the place between your legs would suit him quite nicely.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆
Honest to God, Arthur's never been like this before.
He ain't all that pious to start, so perhaps the sentiment doesn't stretch as far as he would like it too. But it's true, all the same - that in all the lives he's lived, he's never experienced this much bone-deep desire for another human being.
Which is outright ridiculous, since right now you're just making supper. Dinner, you always clarify with that yankee accent. You're going to have dinner together, 'cause Arthur needs to eat. He works hard, according to you.
It's not much, but you're a better cook than Pearson. Even if that's not saying a whole lot. And you're insistent on making the man eat, always on his case about how it's hardly enough for a man his size.
Arthur can chalk it up to being that you love him, as you have told him foolishly many times. He's sure you're not gonna be happy with him in a minute since again - all you're doing is making dinner.
It's just... something. Something about you today. Dammit, he doesn't understand it neither. You've got a job together, and you and Arthur play convincing husband and wife since you practically are anyway. Arthur's been watching you today closely. You lie pretty. Smile with all your teeth, clever with a careful finesse and an honest knack for debauchery and indecency.
You love calling yourself an awful woman. Joking about dying an unweddable spinster given your crudity.
But Arthur likes it in you. Of you. Likes it so much he's done nothing but readjust his pants watching you squirm your way out of every difficult situation and sling the revolver on your hip like a tried-and-true gunslinger.
You're a fine woman to him. A fine one.
The fire crackles as you place a pot over the little flame of the faux stove. You've made a real dinner somehow - with some vegetables and creeping thyme and carefully butchery of meat. It smells good and you seem proud of it, stirring the thing with the sharp end of your knife. Careful not to scrape the pot.
Arthur watches the light glow orange on your face, carefully observing the way it shines on you. You don't look up at all when you speak.
"Gonna stare a hole into me, Morgan."
He feels something warm crawl up his cheeks. He scratches his beard instinctively, tucking his hat over his eyes.
"'m sorry," He says, unsure of how to cover for himself. "Been thinking about some things."
"Don't hurt yourself," You reply, sardonic and dry. Arthur adores you. He laughs to himself and feels warmed by the pleasant smile that seems to give you.
"I'll try. Ain't much used to thinking,"
"Penny for your thoughts, then Mr. Morgan." You reply, carefully moving the pot around so nothing burns. "Might help you clear your mind if you get some of it off your chest."
He's backed himself into a wall. Goddamn him and his big mouth. He hesitates, taking it off this time. Fidgety.
"Yanno, there ain't a lot women like you. Not that I've met at least."
You give him a look. Your lips pressed into a flat line, unimpressed by him.
"Is that so?"
He laughs to himself. "It is indeed. You're a real piece of work. 'Specially going around batting your lashes, making yourself out to be a housewife."
"Aw what, did you like seeing me all doe eyed?" You smile to yourself, teasing but not entirely insincere. "If it helps, since you're the fake husband, I'm only half-acting."
That makes him grin. Though you say it with confidence, the sincerity it makes you flush.
"It ain't that," Arthur says again, looking at your face for the second time in a few minutes. "Just that you're a fine woman to be around. What do they call it...resourceful. That's what I'm thinking of."
"Who taught you such a big word, Morgan?"
"Trelawny, I'd guess."
You laugh, loud and beautiful and Arthur smiles. You look at him from across the fire. "Well, I'm glad you like my company, Mr. Morgan."
"I do more than like it," He hums, offering a reprieve. He nods at you carefully, head tilted. "Come 'ere,"
Your eyes widen at him, but you don't deny him of what he's asking. For that he is awfully grateful. You're more than capable and much less than needy. There's victory in your deliberate desire for him, Arthur thinks. You want him enough to let him chase you.
You come sit by Arthur. You're a little awkward with him still but he don't mind. It adds to whatever he feels for you, sugar-sweet affection and all. You sit on your knees and Arthur turns his head looking at you.
Beautiful. Beautiful thing you are, really. He has a hard time finding the words to tell you.
He reaches up, hand cupping your face. You lean into the touch, palm resting on calloused hand. He adores you.
"And quit with the Mister Morgan nonsense. Drives me crazy."
"Arthur," You say, slow and deliberate. "You know you're looking at me like you wanna eat me."
'"Read my mind, then."
"Arthur," You repeat, scandalized. He would smile if he wasn't so serious. "We're supposed to be eatin' dinner. You got into a whole spat with them Leymone Riders just today. You need to recover,"
His smile widens.
"Lettin' me go down on ya will heal me just fine,"
You look at him exasperated. Arthur leans into your neck, placing chaste kisses down the line of your jaw. He kisses you just there - underneath your earlobe, knows it drives you crazy.
"Lay down, sugar. Help a poor, injured man heal."
You pull away from him with faux exasperation, fond smiling breaking your face.
"You can be such a dog some times, do you know that?"
"I'm afraid I do,"
You give him another unimpressed look, but you listen anyways. Arthur moves so you can lay down on the bedroll - his bedroll. He takes off his coat just before you lay your head, playing it underneath you to get you more comfortable.
"Dinner's gonna burn," You tell him, almost reflexively. He laughs as he looks at you, your hands folded over your stomach and flat. He laughs at you.
"Burn? You feeling warm?"
"Arthur!"
And he laughs again, catching your boot in his hand as you go to kick his chest lightly. He sets it back down as he stares at you. You're quite the sight. Adoration bubbles up into his throat, blooms out into a hum. The sound of crickets and owls and all sorts of night wanderers sound - but none are distracting enough to pry his gaze away.
"You're looking too much," You say, your voice a half tremble. He nods.
"Got too," Arthur hums, leaning forward into your space. You always smell good to him, some cross between soft earth, and sweet liquor and clothes left in the sun. Skin and salt and sweet. "Who knows how long I'll be around."
He presses his lips to yours gentle and you kiss him - but only once before pulling away. Your eyes suddenly serious, warm palm on his cheek.
"Don't say something so morbid. If you go, I go,"
"Sweetheart—"
"No buts." You affirm, pressing your thumb to his lip all serious. Your eyes meet and for a moment - just one minute, all he wants to do is stop time from moving. From stealing him from you in life at all. Even a few seconds, intolerable. "Don't feel to good to hear, does it? So don't say it."
"Alright, alright," He huffs, laughing against your neck. He kisses it again, right against your pulse - quickening under his teeth as he bites and scrapes. He mulls over how much he wants you, and how little time there is to do everything. "Jus' lemme...I dunno."
Now you're cheeky, smiling up at him. Lord above, you do something so terrible to him. "Now that's just not true, baby."
He laughs deep and raspy. It's not true, because he knows exactly what he's after.
Arthur lets his hands plane over your clothed body. He doesn't bother with the ritual of undressing you entirely - since the act doesn't deserve the intimacy. You do, maybe - but Arthur's head feels too foggy to do anything civilized. He has to settle for letting his hands grip the fabric of your skirt and push it until it bunches around your waist.
There's no real delicacy in it, save for the way your breath hitches as Arthur gives himself better access. He moves to lay on his stomach between your thighs. He wishes it were brighter to give him better view. He's seen it plenty but looking at your pretty pussy alone gets him harder than steel.
His hands go underneath every layer of fabric to undo the little tie of your undergarments. You squirm when Arthur takes them off, but you don't pull away.
It's pretty. Even with the dim light of just the moon and fire to let Arthur see it. What entices him mostly though is the scent, after a long day of riding out alone - there's something about the way you smell - sweat and all that makes the back of his mouth ache with want. Makes his teeth hurt just dreaming about it.
He doesn't let his animalistic urges take him yet. He knows you need the build up. His hand is soft as he grips onto your waist. He pulls your legs further apart and lets his lips brush the inside of your thigh. Starts at your knee and works his way up, his mouth burning hot - open kisses. You giggle at the sensation of his beard, but it's tamped down with lust Arthur knows like the back of his hand.
Slow, deliberate, sinful. He knows the way you liked to be touched so exactly, but the pace is set more by his desperation. It grows ten sizes listening to you sigh and huff, feeling your hands come down to touch his hair and play with it.
"Arthur," Your voice calls. Pleading. Wanting him. You're so good at making Arthur loose his composure with so little. It's hard to tease you as your voice clips off into a whine. "Arthur,"
"I've got you," He says, assured. He means it as much as he means anything he's ever said. He ain't a decent man, but this much he can say full ways. "I've got you, sugar. Ease up. Let me take care of you,"
And so you again, breathless - boneless and eager. You let Arthur into your space, and something about that. Something about you. His heart races, blood pumping through his body. It pulses in his ears, head swimming with nothing but praise for you.
You're a fine woman. You're a good girl. The best he knows.
Arthur can feel the way your clit pulses with want before he ever puts his mouth on you. Makes him chuckle, gloved hand resting on your navel. He uses his thumb to pull it back, before using both hands to spread you open. Then, in an act less then gentlemanly, spits on it hard. He watches it land, lewd as it drips between your fold. He laughs to himself.
Another pitchy call of his name and Arthur decides he's had enough fun to get him through the evening.
He kisses your clit first, thinks it's only gentlemanly. When your hips buck up trying to chase the feeling of his mouth - he laughs. His hands dig into your hips. You're soft, skin dimpling from just how tight he holds onto you.
When he finally gets what he wants, his own body lurches forward from want. He nearly slumps into the ground - half-way between relieved and utterly addicted. It's a sense of euphoria unmatched by the finest liquor or cigars money can be.
The taste of you fills his mouth as Arthur eats.
Arthur is not used to playing predator. Not interested in the act of devouring. You often compare him to some sort of herbivore. But there's something too hungry, too visceral, too primal for him to be anything but a coyote. A teethed thing, all screwed up from hunger.
He lets his tongue slip against the seam of your cunt, all the arousal collecting in his mouth. His senses flood with something heady, sweet but bitter and he groans shamelessly as a result. Spoiled by the taste and utterly debauched.
"Oh, god - Arthur, you're—"
Arthur is pleased by the way your words are cut off by your own moan. He slides his tongue back up, wet muscle firm as it lays flat against your clit. There's a slight twitch like it's asking for more attention.
Arthur is all to eager vtoo provide, closing his lips around the twitching bundle of nerves. He knows what you like. Learned over time just the amount of pressure he needs to suck with and the speed he needs to draw his tongue over your clit to get you right at the very edge of your orgasm.
He teases you to that pace. Slow increases in either or, until it's just at that perfect medium. Once he hits that spot, you always moan so pretty.
You shudder, your body lurching up as your hands get tighter in his hair. "Aah, fuck. Ngh, Arthur. Don't do this t'me."
You begging him not too makes him want to do it more. If Arthur were any less aroused, he would. But his brain can barely think up enough to stamina to do that. His own cock is strained against his work pants - hips instinctively rutting into the bedroll just beneath him. Silently seeking friction all while hoping he doesn't get enough to distract him.
It'd be a damn shame, he thinks - letting anything pull him from the taste of your pussy. From the smell of it, from the sight of it, from the feeling of you. Sticky, pulsing strings of arousal coating his tongue and turning all his thoughts to dust.
His cock throbs again as you rut against his mouth. Arthur pins you in place.
"Please," You say. A magic word he ain't much stronger than. "Please make me cum,"
You really are a good girl, the way you know exactly what makes him tick. Arthur moans into your cunt as he sucks and licks and eats. He'd die over it, and he does not mean it lightly. It's the only thing in the world he wants to do in the moment. He laser focuses on finding that sweet spot again.
And he knows he does when you start whimpering. Squirming and holding onto his soft brown locks and pleading for something you don't know about. He can feel how wet your getting - dripping along down his beard and face. Thick strings of your arousal stick and slide down his neck.
He's never been a messy eater, but you've been disproving many of his prior understandings of himself. He supposes it's only natural.
"Oh, baby," You say, not even his name. Arthur knows it's a warning that you're gonna cum. All he can do is encourage you. He hums into your soft, wet cunt and you groan again. "Fuck, Arthur. I'm gonna cum."
Arthur knows better. He doesn't do a thing but keep going. Lets you move and thrash and pull away but keeps you firm in his place and eats your pussy until you can barely think.
He knows the knot is untying before you do because of how much you squirm. When you cum, you cum hard. Your back arches up into a picture perfect curve, toes curling and hands tugging at his roots for purchase.
He can feel every pulse of desire as you finally do let go. You cry out, loud enough to startle any nearby critters. Your fingers grip tight at the base of his hair as the orgasm washes over you. It's just as magnetic as it was the first time.
He's sure that will always be true.
When Arthur pulls away from your pulsing, wet core - he can feel just how much of his lower face is sticky. He's sure you also know, if the way you laugh is anything to go by.
And he's not long to follow after. Not even a few seconds and he can feel something in pants tighten - a mess of white staining the front of the denim in an onset of lust damn near shameful. Is he a teenager again? Lord above.
Breathlessly, you look down at him after you've ridden your high out.
Pulling up Arthur by the collar, you look at him slowly and frown. You look impassioned and a little frustrated.
You kiss him tender after you've come too. Once, then twice, then a another time with your hand still drawn into a fist. Arthur grabs it closed, opening your palms before kissing the palm of your hands until you're no longer mad.
"Hate how good you are at that," You admit, a little drunk of the euphoria of all of it. "Make me feel so crazy."
Arthur beams at you unapologetic.
"It's good to be that with me, sweetheart." Arthur says, kissing the corner of your mouth. "Now how about you go and give me one more?"
You laugh breathlessly but don't go to stop him at all.
"Insatiable man."
"Only for you, my girl."
.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆
#arthur morgan x reader#rdr2 x reader#arthur morgan smut#rdr2 smut#rogues love letters#zero.arthur#this is OUTRAGEOUS. I WAS WARMING UP???#i need to sleep its nearly 8. jesus christ.
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Rewatching the first arc of campaign 1 and reflecting on how right from the beginning it very specifically determined my approach to Matt Mercer's NPCs. Like yes, there's absolutely no reason to trust this one and they are ABSOLUTELY going to betray the party, but you're so good at making characters likeable that I'm just gonna make the decision to fully go along with you on it and love them.
The betrayal is more fun when it breaks your heart a bit anyway.
#critical role#c1 spoilers#c2 spoilers#clarota#there was never any possibility that Clarota wouldn't betray them immediately upon achieving his goals#but don't you just wanna give him a warm blanket and some brains to eat anyway#i was fully spoiled on everything with Essek#but i still threw myself into it all so much that i was up out of my seat outraged when it all came out#while my husband laughed at me as usual 😅
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Also we didn’t talk about this but Ale left the match mad :(((((((
#i understand him because he was the first to start warming up then they never subbed him on and then they told him he was going to come in#for the last like 3 minutes and then told him nvm#he refused Oscar’s hand and went straight to the dressing room before the match ended :(((#but yeah i get it because he’s been criticized a lot lately and I think they could’ve subbed him off and it wouldn’t have been an issue#like joao was doing great but I don’t think anyone would’ve been outraged if he was subbed off at like min 75 or something#also I think they can play together and I think Xavi should try it out#alejandro balde#fcb#barça#fc barcelona#bar v atm
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Sukuna has never said no to you.
It didn’t matter what the request was, simple or complicated, easy to fix or a days-long job, Sukuna was always at your side, completing the task as fast as he needed to to keep you satisfied. He would love to deny it, you’re sure, but evidence proves time and time again that he puts your needs and wants at the top of his priority list.
And you were curious how far you could go with it.
The two of you are sitting in your underwear at the breakfast nook, warming yourselves in the bay window while the morning sun starts on the leftover night time chill. It wasn't quite time for breakfast, still too early for the both of you. In the meantime, you sip on your morning brews, preserving the comfortable silence. Sukuna is flipping through the day's newspaper, his eyes are groggy with sleep and he hasn't said more than a handful of words to you yet. He wasn't a morning person.
You were starting to change that.
"Kuna," You call to him, nudging him with your foot from your corner of the window bench.
"Hmm?" He doesn't look up from the paper, but his hand reaches down and grabs your foot, pulling it into his lap. His thumbs start to subconsciously knead at your muscles.
"I want these." You hold up your phone, which you had previously been scrolling through in an attempt to find something ridiculous for this exact moment. You were sure you had found it, something even Sukuna would find unnecessary.
And yet, he merely glances at your screen, takes in the sight for all of two seconds, and then returns his attention to whatever news article he was in the middle of.
"My wallet's on the counter." He clears the sleep from his throat not sparing a second look.
You blink at him in surprise.
"D-Did you even see what it is?" You flip your phone around to make sure you were displaying the correct thing.
Sukuna is frowning before he looks up again, curious at your persistence. He gently cups your hand, bringing it only a minuscule amount closer to examine your screen a second time.
You were on one of the most luxurious brand’s websites, showing him an incredibly regular pair of panties, no straps, no details, all black- with one of the most outrageous price tags you had ever seen for something so ordinary.
Sukuna cocks a brow at you over your phone, "Can't imagine you need more panties when you're constantly stealing my boxers. But whatever, hand it over. I know my card number-"
"Kuna," You interrupt him with a surprised laugh, holding fast to your phone when he tries to pluck it out of your hands, "they're a thousand dollars."
He glances back, his eyes focusing lower on the screen where you know the price tag to be. The newspaper in his hands drops down, momentarily forgotten by what he sees. For a moment, you think you've found his limit.
"Wait, are those red one's assless?" He points just below the price, where the recommended products are depicted. "Get those too."
You drop the phone down so that he meets your eyes, which are wide with shock.
Sukuna always took care of you. Always insisted on being the provider of any single thing that you may need; a warm meal, a soft bed, anything your eyes twinkled at that was available for purchase- even if you would never think of buying or owning it. Granted, you never wanted much in terms of material possessions, so you didn't realize the true extent of Sukuna's leniency until now.
It was slightly intimidating, and part of it felt wrong. Sukuna had money, plenty of it, but that didn’t mean he should feel the need to spend copious amounts of it on you just because you could ask him to. He was giving you too much power, it felt like.
You huff through your nose, frowning at him, which only has him tilting his head further to the side in question.
You ignore it, setting your phone onto the window seat and crawling your way closer to him, until you can gather up his face in your hands and lock his gaze into yours.
He glares at you past smushed cheeks, but doesn't make a move to break free of your hold, humoring you. "The hell are you doing-"
"You know you don't always have to say yes to me?"
Now that has him taken aback. His mouth automatically opens for a witty response, but your question seems to have effectively taken the words from his mouth. You can see the cogs in his head turning, and what you wouldn't give to peer inside his mind and hear his thoughts.
It takes him a moment, but eventually that familiar confident smile stretches across his sleepy face. His hands seem to instinctively slide their way up your bare legs until his fingers grip your hip bones, pressing into you.
He hums, "When have you ever said no to me?"
You scoff, ready to give him a prime example, but end up coming up short. The two of you loved to tease each other with disobedience, but in the end you were eager to give Sukuna anything his heart desired. You loved to please him, it was one of your favorite things to do, in fact.
"You never ask anything ridiculous of me." You remind him, smiling as one of his warm hands slides back down your waist and dips into the pair of his boxers you were sporting that day.
"You know what's ridiculous?” His voice wraps around your throat, and suddenly has you swallowing past the delicious grip. You're folding into him before you even realize it, at the mercy of his calloused hands. "The implication that I wouldn't do just about anything for you."
You can't help but sigh hopelessly, although it comes out as a desperate noise that pleads him for more. You really were all his, just like he loved to tell you.
"Now hand me your phone." It's a whisper, coaxing you. "I wanna see you in red."
You can’t say no.
At least it was mutual.
#jjk#jjk x reader#sukuna x reader#sukuna#ryomen sukuna#kuna is a feral dog in the eyes of anyone that isn't you#you bring out the puppy love in this psycho#careful#he bites#this was a short and sweet#fluff
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pussy agenda with hyunjin
-contains mature themes
he can't keep his hands to himself.
doesn't really have to be sexual. but likes to shove his hand down your pants to cup your mound with his hand.
it could be at any time of the day.
regardless of whether you were sitting on the couch. or standing in the kitchen. or doing anything really.
you've gotten so used to it, it doesn't even bother you.
its so casual.
like you'd be telling him about how you read some weirdly interesting article. and he'd lazily walk over to you. listening and acknowledging everything you said.
but his hand had a mind of its own. slipping in your pants, to feel your warm cunt. middle finger running along your slit. before he takes his hand out and continues talking.
there are days when he'll purposely tease you. digging his fingers just a bit in. a small smile on his face when he feels you throb. making you make a startled noise. leaving you wet and swollen.
especially after he gets home from practice. hooking his chin on your shoulder. his left hand kneading your boob and his right hand in your pants.
.
shaving as well.
once, you had forgotten to lock the bathroom door. not like you even had to. the two of you were more than comfortable.
neck aching as you made sure you didn't miss any spots. your leg raised up on the sink counter. razor still in your hand while you shaved.
you had finished with your legs and arms. and now, (as hyunjin would say) your most delicate part remained.
you groaned. jumping a bit as your eyes met with a nonchalant hyunjin. who was leaning against the door frame, hand still resting on the door knob.
"need help?"
your cheeks flushing at his outrageous question. not to mention you were half naked. you needed help. and you trusted him. but it was more because your legs ached.
"i'll help you shave" he admitted, walking in. closing the door behind him.
and he indeed did.
"you don't need to shave by the way" he reassured.
"i'd eat your precious cunt regardless" such a casual statement to make. while keeping your legs open.
"careful" you mumbled, eyes cast down to where he was kneeling down. spreading your pussy lips apart.
as if he was inspecting your folds. gentle with each stroke of the razor.
"i know. baby's delicate pussy is very sensitive" hyunjin muttered, biting his lip as he concentrated on the task at hand. eyes fixed on your pussy. it made you feel very...exposed and maybe a bit turned on. his warm breath making you feel even hotter.
and after he's done.
he kisses it. working his way up.
"gonna have my fun with you later" pressing his cushioney lips to your freshly shaven pussy. it was almost like he was letting your pussy know well in advance.
and pulling away with accomplishment written all over his face.
cause now you were getting wet.
.
or if he's driving. (like in the recent skz code). he'd be holding the steering wheel with his left hand. his right hand intertwined with yours.
slowly getting carried away.
till his fingers are teasing your slit. rubbing against it and pressing the pads of his index into your pussy. and pulling out. and doing it all over again.
never actually pushing all the way in.
keeping his finger pressed between your folds. almost like he's having his own fun while you're squirming and closing your legs around his hand.
he's focused on driving, reading the sign boards. even asking you if you're hungry. acting normal as though his hand isn't shoved down your panties. but as i mentioned. his fingers are on auto pilot.
in conclusion,
hyunjin would do anything for your pussy. even if that includes fleeting touches.
.
.
.
.
did you like it ehe.......
#can't stop thinking about#hyunjin wanting to feel you up#at all times#takes the chance anytime#you can't convince me#he doesn't go drunk for pussy#no pussy and he's acting like he's heartbrokem#dom!hyunjin#pussy drunk hyunjin#hwang hyunjin smut#hyunjin smut#hwang hyunjin imagines#hyunjin imagines#stray kids smut#skz smut#stray kids imagines#skz imagines#skz drabbles#hyunjin hard thoughts#stray kids hard thoughts#hyunjin headcanons#HYUNJIN IS A FUCKING TEASE#HE KNOWS HOW YOU'LL LET HIM#PLAY WITH YOU#and he's cocky about it#i wanna suck his dick#and his fingers#stray kids headcanons#bang chan smut#fluffylino works
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Next caller.
《 Pairings: College!Eddie Munson x shyfem!reader
《 Summary: Eddie hosts a late night radio show for his college campus, where he discusses various different topics. He's mostly known for his DnD and sex talk segments. You've been a long-time listener who works up the courage to finally call in for some help.
《 Warnings: Smut, 90s!Eddie, he's around 24 here. Phone sex, dirty talk, voyeurism, masturbation (female), sex toys. Eddie refers to the reader as sweetheart, good girl, and Miss caller. I didn't want to use y/n, so he's given you some pet names instead.
Word count: 3.9k
A/N: Please reblog, comment, and like to show support. Not proofread. Please ignore mistakes.
Mini series masterlist
18+ no minors
Year 1990
Eddie was in his final semester of college with a very popular radio show. He became pretty much well-known on campus overnight. His radio show is known as "The Munson Experience," and it slowly became an overnight hit.
Fans of DnD tuned in for his hour of lore telling and tips on how to build up your fantasy world. Metal heads tuned in for his controversial opinions on bands. Others listened specifically for his special segments in regard to the topic of sex. Boyfriends called for advice on dating and different ways to get their girls off. Girlfriends called him to give thank you's and ask what they could do to repay the favor. He would have callers tell him their most outrageous stories.
Eddies show became popular very fast after he introduced his sex segment. He even became some what of celebrity at your college. He never used a different name or tried to use any type of anonymity. He didn't care if people knew him for his show or even liked him for it.
He was unapologetically himself at all times. You seen him around campus walking from one lecture to the next. Eddie would always wear an old band tee with the sleeves cut off, turning into a muscle tank. He liked showing off his tattoos. One arm fully covered in dark ink all the way down to the top of his hand. The other arm had a few tattoos scattered here and there. His hair was almost past his shoulders, and he had a small nose ring in his left nostril.
You'd always watch from afar as people would approach him to make small talk. The guys rushed over to invite him to their house partylies and girls giving out their personal phone numbers. It was no secret that Eddie knew how to please women. You heard the stories, and judging by his advice on his show, you believed them. He would even share his own personal hook up stories sometimes during the segment.
You and Eddie only ever had one class last semester together, but he never even made a single glance your way. You never approached him either, opting to just admire from distance and make your way to class. Every evening, you did, however, turn on the radio to listen to his show. Truthfully, you only listened to hear his voice. You had no idea what he was rambling on about most of the time, but you didn't care. His barritone voice was like warm honey to your ears. You found comfort in listening to him every night before bed. It was strange how the moment his show started, your stress of the day just melted away.
One day, you were going to call him for help about something you had never told anymore before. You already felt like you could trust him with this sort of thing. You were determined to speak to him even if you had to confess never having had an orgasm before. You don't know why you're putting so much trust into him, but you have.
You were desperate for his help and attention if you're going to be honest. You would lay in bed daydreaming about being in those other girls' shoes when he described what he did to them. How he would feel between your legs. Having his weight on top of you as you came undone beneath him.
Maybe you'll call in to his show tomorrow? What harm could it do? No one would even know it was you on the other line. You didn't have many friends on campus, so it's not like anyone would make the distinction so quickly. This would all be completely anonymous.
You just needed to speak with him. You never could work up the courage to talk to him in real life. You've always been too shy and easily intimidated. Eddie was a nice guy from what you could tell. There was nothing to be intimidated by at all. You would always get butterflies in your stomach when you saw him around. He made your stomach do flips when he flashed a smile, revealing the dimples in his cheeks. You could never work up the courage to ever approach him, so you just settle for your fantasies instead.
A few weeks went by, and you still haven't called. Not that you didn't try. You would call and hang up when you heard what you assumed was an assistant answer the phone. The moment you heard, "Thank you for calling in to the munson." You slammed the phone on the receiver. Not even letting the poor guy finish his sentence. This situation was driving you crazy you were convinced he could and would help with your problem. You assured yourself he was the only one who could because you didn't want anyone else to.
You mope around your shared home with your roommate, Monica. She could tell something was bothering you but never pressed on the issue. You two weren't the closest, but there was a mutual respect and love for one another. She'd try to get you to go out to parties with her but knew not to pressure you. The moment she heard a no, she left it at that, shrugging her shoulders and leaving you be.
"I can tell something is bugging you." she asked for the millionth time that week.
You sigh. "Im fine, I swear -- just little stressed." You put on a fake smile heading back to your room, leaving her to continue getting ready her date. Hoping she won't ask you again, you locked yourself away for the night. There was a light knock at your door, and you heard your roommates muffled voice from the other side. "I'll be back late. Get some sleep, okay?"
You ignore her as she leaves for the evening. Flopping yourself back against your pillows, you turned to look at your phone. Then, glance at your clock, it read 10:45 pm. It's almost time for his last segment of the night. Should you call? Would tonight be the night? You rolled over on your side, staring between the clock and your phone.
You sat up quickly, snatching the phone and dialing the numbers. Your heart already pumping with adrenaline when you hear the dial tone. A lump in your throat builds from nerves and excitement. Tonight was the night, and you were not going to chicken out this time. You hear the distinct voice on the other end of the call. "Thank you for calling into the munson experience. What are you calling in for."
You struggle to find your voice for a moment. The man on the other end is waiting for you to respond, and he almost hangs up, thinking it's another crank call. "I'm calling to speak to Eddie." You're voice barely even a whisper that you needed to repeat yourself three times. Eventually, they put you on hold while they got ready for his final segment. You exhale a deep breath you didn't even know you were holding in.
The sound of the music they put you on hold to cut off and your stomach drops. This was it you were finally going to do it. Not only were you going to speak to him, but you were also about to confess something that always made you feel embarrassed. You know it's nothing to be ashamed about truly. Judging by the countless women who called in with a similar problem looking for advice.
The music playing on the radio fades, and you hear him greet you."Hi, thank you for calling in. How can I be of assistance?"
You struggled to find your voice yet again.
"Hello? C'mon, don't be shy. This is a judgment free zone here." He leaned forward in his chair, getting closer to the microphone.
"Umm, hi, I was calling for something I think only you can help me with." You're clutching the phone in a tight grip against your ear. Your hands are shaking, and you hope no one can recognize you.
He leans back in his rolling chair. "And who am I speaking with."
"I....I'd rather not give you my name." You stammered. Your anxiety is building up, and you are so close to hanging up.
"That's okay. Well, keep this anonymous." He replied.
His brows raise for a moment as he listened to you talk. You sounded a little too familiar to him, and he has a sneaking suspension he might know who you are. He won't out you just in case he might be wrong and also respecting your wishes to remain anonymous.
You take a deep breath. "Well, you see, I've never...I don't know how to say this."
"You never what?" Have sex or something? " He asked, but his voice showed no emotions.
"No...I mean I'm not a virgin or anything like that. I just....I've had boyfriends, and anytime we did stuff, I never-- finished." You confessed to him.
His eyes widened for a moment, and he felt a pain of sadness in his heart. He could tell you were scared to reveal something so personal like that. Especially to him, a total stranger on a live radio show with hundreds of listeners. "You never had an orgasm before. Is that what you're trying to tell me?"
Pinching the bridge of your nose." Yes, that's what I'm telling you."
"Huh, okay, have you tried getting yourself off, at least?" He questioned, spinning around in his chair. His assistant, the other side of the room, listened Intently to the conversation.
"Well you see that's my problem anytime I tried to make myself cum I just kinda give up. I get so close and right when I'm there... I stop." You blurt out as you feel a weight being lifted from your shoulders.
He ponders for a moment before responding. "And how can I help you with this exactly? "
"Well, I was hoping you could guide me through it." Your face scrunching up as the words left your mouth. You knew this was a dumb idea from the start. He wasn't going to help you, and any moment now, you're waiting to hear him laugh at how ridiculous this is. There's a long, almost uncomfortable silence.
Eddie, on the other side of the line in his booth, is in utter disbelief. Sure, he definitely wants to guide you through that experience. What guy wouldn't? He just truly can not believe this was happening live on HIS show. His assistant kept mouthing no to him, knowing this could end badly. Eddie doesn't care he's doing it. He picks up his old bandana that's been discarded on the table and wipes sweat from his forehead. He nods back at the assistant, signaling hes going along with it whether people like it or not.
Picking up his yoyo, he props his feet up on the table in front of him. "You want me to help you cum?" Is that correct."
"Yes, that's what I want. I need you to help me any way you can." You're sounding more desperate than intended.
"Okay, well, miss caller. I think im the perfect guy for the job." He smiles tossing the yoyo back and forth to the palm of his hand.
You smile as the anxiety you felt early slowly fades away.
"What are we using tonight, sweetheart? Fingers or toys?" He asked tossing his yoyo aside.
"Umm, I have a toy I can use." You closed your eyes tight, answering his question.
"Do you want me to talk dirty to you while we do this, sweetheart? " He got his voice lower in the mic, causing your breath to hitch.
'Uhh, yes... I'd like that a lot, actually." You bite your lower lip, anticipating what he's planning.
A grin plastered on his face while his mouth gets unbelievably closer to the mic. His voice felt so close to your ear. Your skin prickles with goosebumps. "Are you laying back, sweetheart?"
"....uhh,yes, I'm laying in bed." Your voice shakey on the other end.
"Good girl, get nice and comfortable for me."
You involuntarily squeeze your thighs together when you hear him calling you a "good girl." You turn off your bedside light and let the warm glow from your candles set the mood.
"What are you wearing?" He asked, licking his lips.
"A shirt and panties." You replied, looking down at yourself.
"Yeah? wanna take those panties off for me." He continued on making his voice low and deep. Similar to his DM voice, he would put on during his DnD segments. A shiver runs down your spine, and you can feel yourself getting wetter. There is a small wet patch already forming on the thin lace material of your panties.
You moved and carefully dragged the delicate lace down your legs, tossing them across your room. "They're off."
"That's a good girl." He praised.
You lay there patiently waiting for him to continue.
"Can you be my good girl and grab that little toy you told me about?" He asked you, feeling himself growing hard as well. He still can't believe he's doing this but doesn't want to stop. "Do you have it?"
Reaching over to your bedside table, you open the drawer, grabbing the small vibrator.
"I got it." You whisper into the phone.
He readjusts in his seat, "Turn it on for me."
You do as he says and turn the small vibrator onto the lowest setting. That ball of nerves in the pit of your stomach creeps back in. You want to do this, but the thought of hundreds of people listening to you right makes you second guess the decision.
"On second thought, maybe this was a bad idea." You admit trying to fight back tears as a lump in your throat forms.
"No, no hey its okay. What's wrong?" He asked, sounding concerned.
"I--i just remembered there are people listening." You stumble over your words as you try not to cry. Feeling a little ridiculous that you're even going through with this.
He frowns to himself. " Listen, it's just me, and you okay? If you don't want to do this, I understand you can always hang up."
"NO!--I want to do this." You blurt out. Once again, there is a long pause as he's thinking of the right things to say. Eddie doesn't want to make you feel pressured. He wants this to be an enjoyable moment. "Shall we continue?"
"Yes, please." You spoke sofly.
"That's my good girl." He cooed.
You whimper lowly into the phone, but it doesn't go unnoticeable. He already knows how to get you riled up, and he hasn't even gotten started yet. "You like that, don't you?"
"You like it when I call you a good girl?" He teased.
You gulped into the phone." Yeah."
His assistant in the next room is chewing on his nails out of pure terror. He's never seen this happen before on a live radio show, and he just knows what a shit storm it could cause. Eddie doesn't seem to mind at all his focus and attention were strictly on you.
"I want you grab that toy and put it to your clit. Can you do that for me?" He gets his voice low again. Your nipples harden under the thin material of your shirt. You bring the vibrator to your sensitive bud and gasp when you feel the vibrations.
"Okay, sweetheart, now think of me between those thighs. Think of my lips wrapped around your clit sucking so so softly. Imagine my face buried between your legs.." He's breathing heavier into the mic. His cock getting painfully hard in his jeans "Are you thinking about it?"
"Mmm, y--yes I'm...I'm imagining you there." You gasp and moan in the phone.
"I know you must be soaked right now. I wish I was there with you, spreading you open with my tongue. I bet you taste so fucking good" He kept going his voice getting more seductive in your ear.
"Is this your first time thinking of me like this?"
A sly grin creeps up on his face as he probably already knows the answer.
"I bet you have. I'm sure you've seen me around our campus. You've probably wondered what it would be like having my thick cock deep inside you. I would make you cum so fucking hard." He's getting really into it now, and his heart races with excitement.
You sink further into your bed as the vibrator continues working on your clit. Your hips bucking up as you writhe on your blanks, taking in every word he spoke. The phone keeps falling from your ear the more relaxed you become. Your mind in a fog while you listen to him say the dirtiest things. No one has ever spoken to you like this before, not even your ex-boyfriends. "Hey, you there?"
You gasp, "Yes, I'm here."
"Great. I need you to try and keep the phone to your ear as best you can for this part. Now with your other hand, use your fingers to fuck yourself but keep that vibrator where it is, got it?" He sounded much more serious this time.
You kept the vibrator right where it was at while you gently brought two fingers to your entrance. You slide them between your wet folds, getting them covered in your juices. You bite your lower lip hard as you teased around your dripping pussy. You hear him groan in the other end of the phone and wonder if he's enjoying this just as much as you are. You gently dip your two fingers inside you, getting them as deep as they possibly could go. "Ooh! Fuck." You moaned in his ear.
"Yeah, that's it pretend your fingers are my cock sweetheart." His let out a shakey breath.
"I bet your so fucking tight. Just thinking about your tight pussy taking my cock is making me so hard." He's getting himself riled up.
He rubbs the back of his neck, trying to stay focused. "I'd have to take my time with you first. Working you open until you're ready to take all of me."
"Is it big?" You ask him meekly, panting into the phone while your fingers stretch you open.
"Fuck baby--id have you feeling so full." He groaned in the mic, struggling to keep himself composed. Clenching his jaw tight as he opens and closes his fists.
Eddies tries his best to resist rubbing himself over his jeans as he listened to you. He has to remember this isn't about him right now it's all about you. His sole purpose of the night is making you cum and he's determined you will.
Your fingers continue pumping in and out at a vigorous pace. The vibrator placed carefully on your sore bud while you try your best not to drop the phone again. "I can hear your dripping pussy from here."
His words turn you on even more, making you grow wetter for him. Your body is covered in beads of sweat as your face grows hot. Your pussy making a loud schlick noise with every pump of your fingers.
"Feel good?" He asked you with amusement etched in his tone.
"Yes, it feels so good." You let out weak pathetic response. "Oh my god!" You squealed into the phone. Desperately trying to keep it balanced between your head and shoulder. You're a moaning, whimpering mess, and you don't care how loud you're being. You've never felt like this before it's terrifying and thrilling all at the same time.
He laughs, rubbing his chin letting out a quiet grunt before speaking again, "You sound so sexy when you make those little noises."
His listeners are having a hard time distinguishing if he's getting himself off in the process or if he's just playing it up for the moment. They're used to his crazy antics, but this was something entirely new. They were all shocked and impressed they were getting to witness this.
Your fingers pumping harder as you curve them upwards to rub against that sweet spot on your walls. Your thighs shake as you arch your back off the bed. You imagined they were his cock instead pounding in and out of your pussy like this. You feel a tightness in your core building up, and you know you're getting close.
"You're getting close, aren't you?" He whispered seductively.
"S'close." You whined.
"That's it be a good girl and cum." Cum all over my cock." He groaned.
The vibrator on your clit helping to bring you closer to your release. You spread your legs them even further apart. You're moaning louder into the phone. You can't even hear Eddie's voice anymore. Fucking yourself with your fingers is becoming difficult the closer you are to your release. Your walls clenching up tightly around them, and your pulse quickening.
You plunge them in and out of your pussy faster. That coil in your tummy is getting tighter. The feeling is all too familiar, and you start to get scared. What if you can't get past this part? You're doubting yourself again. You let out a deep breath and relax your mind.
Your legs shut involuntarily, and the vibrator falls from between your thighs. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your first ever orgasm rips through your body with so much intensity. Your vision goes black, and you stop breathing for a second. The phone lays abandoned next to your head, having dropped it long ago. You can hear Eddie's muffled voice calling out for you.
Tears begin pouring from the corners of your eyes. You couldn't help getting emotional after all of that. Not only was this your first time ever being able to have an orgasm, but the entirety of the situation was starting to set in. You felt amazing, and Eddie did such a great job helping you along the way. There were just some insecurities starting to creep in that you wanted to keep away. He's the only man that's ever made you feel like this, and you hope maybe one day you'd find the courage to meet him in person.
Everything went dead silent for a few minutes except for a few sniffles you hope no one else could hear. Your body glistening with sweat and your thighs sticky with your juices. You're still coming down from your high as your tears slowly fade away.
"You there, sweetheart? You heard him ask from a short distance.
With shakey hands, you pick up the phone to your ear. "Mmhmm...I'm still here." Your voice coming out small.
"You did so good for me." He praised you one last time. "It's okay. I'm right here He reassured.
"How was it." He asked, hoping you had a good time.
"It was overwhelming but amazing." You smile weakly into the phone. You can't see him, but he's smiling back.
"Yea knew I'd be perfect for the job. Haven't had one complaint yet." His cockiness coming back almost immediately. Just as he was about to reach for a pack of cigarettes, he noticed he's way over his scheduled time. His eyes widened in a panic as he locked eyes with the clock above him.
His assistant busts through the door, signaling that the show is now officially over for the night. Eddie startles for a moment before jumping out of his chair and yanks the mic up to his mouth to close out the rest of the segment.
He slams his hands down on the table enthusiastically. "GOOD!..GREAT!-- and that's it for tonight's show everybody thank you all for listening. Thank you to our lovely caller, and if you guys wanna see my band play, come visit us at The Hideout every Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday nights. Especially you miss caller you can come see me anytime you like."
You listened to him give thanks to everyone when the song called "about a girl" from some band named Nirvana fades away his outro. You flopped back down on your bed. Your body is way too weak to even roll over your legs feeling like jello.
Laying there resisting the urge to fall asleep, wanting to savor this special moment as long as you could. You thought about what he said before hanging up. You were definitely wanted to see him soon. You had to after this night. You needed to finally meet him and maybe repay the favor.
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#joseph quinn#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things#90s!eddie#college!eddie#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x fem reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson smut
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PART 2, CONQUERER - RYOMEN SUKUNA
RECAP: After Sukuna invades your nation and kills the man you were betrothed to, he decides to take you as his queen. You comply to his requests to keep your little brother Yuji safe.
SUMMARY: You had just been wedded to Sukuna, and now it was time for your mating ceremony.
cw: battle for dominance, oral sex (f receiving), doggy, hair pulling, riding, slight choking, breeding, reader is inspired by helen of troy
: ̗̀➛ part 1
The ballroom in the heart of your palace remained lively with people dancing, singing, and eating heartily. Lots of women would wear outrageously flashy or expensive dresses that would, in their hopes, catch the new King’s eyes. They did not know Sukuna, for he would not even bat an eye at those kind of women. He has come so far to defeat every neighboring nation just to get to yours. He brought death and destruction with his footsteps, and let war sit on the right side of his shoulder just so he could have you in his hands, the woman kings and noblemen from every nation sought after. Your beauty was like no other in the world—so captivating that men would wage wars against each other to have your delicate hand. Your previous fiancé did just that, and quickly failed when Sukuna came lurking behind his careless back.
Tonight, you had just hosted the largest banquet anyone has ever seen. Such a lavish event is fitting for the union of the most beautiful woman in the world and the greatest conquerer man has ever seen. Sukuna patiently waited for you in his quarters, his muscular and broad body covered in a black silk robe with gold embroidery. On the other hand, your handmaidens were bathing you in soaps and fragrances that were made with the finest and rarest materials people can only dream of getting their hands on, yet here they were, being used to bathe your soft body. The girls patted you dry with a big and fluffy towel, then helped you slip onto your sheer nude lingerie that had diamonds around your chest, making your skin glisten in the warm lights. On top of that, you draped a large white silky robe over your body, the cool fabric sending a shiver down your spine.
You passed through the thin curtains and Sukuna was sat on the bed, waiting for you. He looked up, eyes immediately locked on your figure that was barely covered by your garments. He couldn’t help but envision your fully naked body, but he quickly shook those thoughts away upon realization that in a few seconds, he would be able to feast on your bare body. It would be all his.
“Come, woman,” Sukuna gestured you to move closer to him with his pointer finger.
You scoffed. “I have a name. Did you not know?”
“It doesn’t matter. You’re going to forget your name after tonight,” he smirked.
“I’d like to see you try,” you slid off your robe, exposing your body that was barely covered by the lingerie. Sukuna’s eye’s wandered on your chest and down to your plump hips and thighs. You walked towards him, his eyes remained fix on your body as he watched each and every movement you made.
Sukuna looked up at you, his hands stroking your sides and tracing every curve. His touch was warm and it made you burn with excitement. This man was capable of making you feel so much. You could fear him, and at the same time lust over the fact that he could destroy anything within an arm’s length. The power in his hands made you tremble with arousal.
It made you wonder whether you were doing all this just to protect whatever remained of your nation and your baby brother or if you were just as power-hungry as the greedy conquerer beneath you.
You pushed his hands away and slowly took off your lingerie while holding eye contact with him. There was an intense warmth that radiated off his body. You lifted up your arms to cup his face and push it towards the heat of your pussy. To your surprise, he didn’t protest. Instead, he put his hands on your hips for support while he buried his face into your cunt, his hot tongue lapping at your wet folds. You legs shivered and the pacing of your breath quickened.
“Sukuna,” you moaned, and he suddenly stopped. He moved back, but his face remained close to your wetness.
“Call me Ryomen,” he lowly said, before resuming his work.
His mouth was skilled in its work. He repeatedly licked and would occasionally bite on your clit, sending a wave of pleasure to wash over your body. It felt like electricity, the way the heat and arousal would travel up to your body with sparks. While he sucked hardly on your clit, he covered his fingers in your slick, then pushed them inside you. You gasped, your fingers tangled in his locks of hair. You moaned and writhed, pushing his head closer to you. At this point, your thighs were suffocating Ryomen, preventing him from breathing, but he didn’t care; his mind was solely focused on making you cum.
“Ryo,” you tried saying, the word smoothly rolling off your tongue. “I’m close.”
Ryomen felt his blood rushing. Most people who dared to speak of his first name would often say it with such fear for their lives, but the way your voice spoke his name made it sound so sweet like nectar was dripping from the tip of your tongue. He groaned against your pussy, the vibration making you hiss. His fingers kept thrusting and curling inside of you in such a fast pace that caught your breath. The pads of his fingers were rubbing your sweet spot while his tongue continued to play with your throbbing clit. The pleasure started to build up and you could feel it on your lower abdomen. You let out a moan before releasing yourself, your fluids coating his fingers and chin.
Your husband stood up and took his robe off, revealing his toned chest, abdomen, the big scar that ran in a straight line from his chest to stomach, and his lengthy cock. He grabbed your hand and placed it right on the scar, letting you trace it with your fingers along with the intricate muscles on his abdomen.
“See what you did? No one has ever been able to get this close to me.” He whispered.
“I know,” you smirked.
“Don’t get too cocky now, girl.” Ryomen warned.
“Me? Cocky?” He grabbed both of your arms and pushed you onto the bed. He held your arms behind your back, firmly holding them in place.
“Fuck you,” you muttered, but Ryomen didn’t hear because your face was pressed onto the sheets of your bed, muffling your voice.
“Arch your back for me,” he said into your ear, his chest pressed against your back.
Your face grew hot. Complying with his request, you arched you back and pushed yourself onto him, the wet head of his cock tapping your ass. Ryomen groaned at the sensation and slapped your ass. It didn’t hurt much, but it stung in a way that only got you more horny. He parted your legs and rubbed his dick on your folds, lubing it with your juices.
He was way too big.
This was going to be your first time and you weren’t sure if you could even take him. With his length and girth, it might end up hurting you. You propped yourself up and turned to look at him from the corner of your eye.
“It’s my first time,” you panted.
“Good,” Ryomen smiled. “Be honored. You’re my first as well. I’ll make sure you can handle it.”
That was the first time you’ve seen him genuinely smile. “That’s a surprise.”
“It is the culture of my homeland.”
Ryomen tightly held onto the soft flesh your hips, slowly pushing his dick in you. He starts thrusting with only half of his dick inside, but you already felt so full. His cock is so gritty is rubs every spot in your walls. Your pussy tightly clamps onto him, making his breath quiver. “You’re so tight,” he breathed.
It takes everything in Ryomen to not just thrust into you at full speed. He had to be careful with you, but every instinct in him is telling him otherwise. The sound of your pussy squelching on his length and the way both your fluids were dripping down your labia was driving him crazy. His mind was in a frenzy and his hands grew hot as he continued to feel up your ass.
“Too much,” you whined. “You’re too big.”
“If that was the case, why is your tight greedy pussy pulling me in,” Ryomen lightly chucked as he watched your pussy swallow his dick. The whole of him now buried deep inside you, making a small bulge on your stomach. His hand reached for your hair and tugged on it so you could face him. “Look how well your pussy is taking me.”
Your eyes were watery, not a single thought present behind them. Your mind was trapped in a haze of lust. All you could feel was the big surge of pleasure that came with each thrust. Beads of sweat dripped from your forehead and your back.
“Faster, Ryomen.” You dared to say.
“Finally. You can’t take that back anymore, alright?”
With no hesitation, Ryomen started thrusting into you hard and fast, causing your body to rock back and forth, your tits bouncing with you. He cupped your breasts, squeezing and kneading on them like dough. You could feel his dick twitching, eager to release its seed and paint the walls of your cunt white. He started panting and groaning, the pace of his thrusts getting sloppy and desperate. You could feel another orgasm following through, the tight feeling making your pussy spasm around his cock. A string of moans left your mouth as you allowed yourself to cum all over his dick, your insides tightening then letting go, milking his dick as he came with you. He looked at your shaking figure that glistened with sweat under the lights of the room. He groaned your name and laid his head on your shoulder, inhaling your intoxicating scent.
The two of you stared at each other with lust-struck eyes. He was sweating and panting, his cheeks lightly tinted red. With his right hand, he grabbed your neck and pulled you towards him for a messy and passionate kiss. Your tongues danced with each other, eagerly fighting for dominance while the mixture of your spit dribbled down your chin. He lightly squeezed your neck and you moaned into the kiss. You placed your hands on his shoulders and pulled him on to the bed. Your hands remained on his shoulders as you got into a comfortable position to straddle him. He cocked an eyebrow at you, amusement painted his face as he watched with intent.
Lowering yourself on Ryomen, you felt his cock slowly stretch you out again, easily sliding in because of how his cum had filled your walls. You repeatedly bounced on his dick, the tip hitting your sweet spot more effectively. Both your moans filled the room’s quiet atmosphere. Your grip on his shoulders tightened as the warm and hot sensation took over your body once more, your nails digging into his skin, surely leaving marks. There it was again, his cocky smile showing on his face at the sight of you using his dick to get off. It was pathetic to see you try and dominate him in this position, but you just looked like a desperate bitch in heat. He would have never expected you to be so needy for him, after you had put so much effort to convince him with your little facade that you were so angry that he had forcefully taken you as his wife. Deep down, he knew that you had been waiting for this.
Quickly enough, your legs grew tired, but you didn’t want to stop—you were getting close again and you didn’t want to lose the momentum. He notices the way your chest heaved and how your legs trembled from exhaustion. He wraps his arms around your waist, and pushed your body onto his dick, then lifted you up again. This went on, and he was doing all the work again, moving your body up and down with ease while he thrusted into you in sync.
“What a pathetic attempt,” Ryomen laughed. You opened your mouth to say a remark, but the only thing that you could muster up were more moans.
“Did I fuck the brains out of you already? Tell me who you are.”
All you could muster up was a pathetic whine. He was right and you hated it. How could someone inexperienced make you instantly forget your own name with his cock?
“See,” Ryomen triumphantly smiled, baring his teeth. “I fucking told you.”
: ̗̀➛ part 3
#rev.writes#thank u sm for 200 followers!!!!!#ryomen sukuna x y/n#ryomen sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x you#sukuna x y/n#sukuna x you#sukuna x reader#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk fanfic#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x you#sukuna smut#jjk smut#ryomen sukuna smut
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So American (OB38)
Summary: To the song So American by Olivia Rodrigo. In which a Brit and an American fall so deeply in love with each other.
Warnings: suggestive scenes, language, so much fluff omg, reader is from America (specifically California), reader wants to be a writer and loves Jane Austen, reader loves London, idk if you can tell yet but this is HEAVILY indulgent, reader goes to University of San Francisco (that part is not self indulgent lol)
Note: I couldn’t help myself ive had this idea for too long, my debut Ollie Bearman fic! I hope you like it because i do 🤭
Eighteen and baby-faced, Y/n thought her trip to London with her best friends would be fun and outrageous. She expected when they touched down in Heathrow that the trip would bring countless amounts of unique memories. It was part of their celebration of completion in their first year in college, a week-long trip to one of their favorite places to welcome the desperately needed summer.
None of them expected for Y/n to slam into a tall body when they were running to a musical before the doors closed and none of them expected that tall body to be that of another eighteen year old who found the short, American girl too cute to tear his eyes away from.
Ollie hadn’t been expecting much when he decided to take a day trip into London, wanting to spend the day wandering around one of his favorite cities. Though, when his eyes graced him the vision of y/h/c hair and a flushed girl frazzled in front of him, he knew it would be one to remember.
She was short, almost too short as his neck craned down to meet her eyes and the two murmured out apologies as he knelt down to pick up her bag that had dropped when they both rounded the same corner too fast.
Her ID slipped out, California’s name in bold letters right at the top and made Ollie laugh.
”American?” He smiled as Y/n’s friends glanced at each other from the side.
Y/n grinned, “Yep, American.”
Part of him knew getting into business with someone who lived on another continent couldn’t be smart, but he couldn’t bear to think of not seeing her again. Her beauty struck him and there were no thoughts in his mind when he asked for her number when she mumbled something about having to leave.
Y/n’s wide eyes turned around to meet his once more, “My number?”
Ollie nodded, his hand in his pocket and clutching his phone, “Your number.”
Her friends behind her giggled before shoving her toward the British boy who they had no idea was not your average or normal eighteen year old. Y/n took his phone lightly and pressed the correct digits. When she returned it, her name staring back at him, he blushed, “Y/n. That’s cute.”
Her cheeks warmed just like his as her friends began tugging on her hand and yelling about making the showtime, “What’s your name?!” She yelled as they dragged her away.
He waved with a beam, “Ollie!”
Ollie. That’s cute.
—
That summer, Y/n never went back to California. The moment she began talking with Ollie and he began taking her out on dates before she was supposed to leave, she knew there would be no way she could leave him. She canceled her flight back after Ollie had begged her to stay, and told her friends they needed to go back without her, that there was something more she needed to explore in London.
The girls had anticipated it, honestly. When they had seen the dazed grin on their friend’s face every time she came back from seeing the boy, they knew there was not enough willpower to hold her back from changing plans.
She would come back for the next school year, but it was clear if things went well, which they seemed they would be, she would stay for the summer.
And that she did.
Ollie forced her around all of England, showing her his favorite nooks and crannies of the country he grew up in. They would spend hours in his car as he drove her around, to the end of the country and back, just so she could experience his favorite view too. Their moments spent together forced the two to get to know each other wholly. Y/n found out about his racing career, gaped at him when he mentioned his Formula 1 race, and Ollie found out about her mundane life as a student at University of San Francisco. Honestly, he loved how regular she was. He craved her stories of college parties and nights spent up until three AM trying to turn in a paper. He loved her life stories. She loved his. They made for a good duo.
When the end of the two months drew near, tears were shed and words of distance were stressed. As they stood at the entrance to Heathrow, Ollie held Y/n in his arms and promised to find another time for her to come visit him, or one where he would come visit her. He was insistent and while they wouldn’t say it then, they were already in love.
That proved true a few months later, after calls and texts back and forth, when Y/n turned up at Heathrow once more. She was on Christmas break, one that granted her time to see her boyfriend, and while her family had been supportive of her skipping the holiday to go see someone that clearly made her so happy, she still felt a bit guilty to cancel. Though, that feeling diminished when she descended down the escalator and found Ollie holding a large sign with her name on it in pinks and greens, a large smile on his face as she yelped out and sprinted toward him.
“OLLIE!” Her bags dropped and she flew into his arms as he yelled her name back, the sign he had worked so hard on thrown to the floor the moment she got close.
He kissed her cheek and the two were looked upon adoringly by bystanders in the airport as he gently set her down on the ground, kissing her softly and whispering how much he had missed her.
When he led her out of the doors, all her belongings in his hands, they smiled brightly at each other as if to confirm how much they would make this month worth their while.
—
Drivin’ on the right-side road, he says I’m pretty wearin’ his clothes. And he's got hands that make hell seem cold. Feet on the dashboard, he’s like a poem I wish I wrote. I wish I wrote.
Ollie clutched Y/n’s thigh as he drove to their favorite spot, one he had shown her during the summer. Her head lulled to the side, staring at him lightly and lovingly right when he glanced at her, his eyes roaming over her body.
Her eyebrows pulled together, “What?”
He smirked, “You look pretty wearing my clothes.” His fingers traced up her stomach to tug on his sweatshirt that adorned her upper body. The way it draped largely over her made his heart warm and how she had the hood pulled up over her messy hair made him want to pull the car over and kiss her silly.
She looked cozy. Cozy enough that his hand traveled under the material to rest around her waist. His warm hands made her feel more sleepy, the clock in the car reading a time too early, as she cuddled further into herself. Ollie noticed the yawn that drew from her and smiled to himself, his eyes averting back to the lonely road they were on.
“Can I put my feet on the dash?” She murmured, eyes closing and head tucking further into his sweatshirt.
Ollie patted her leg, “Sure, baby. I’ll wake you up when we’re there.”
He turned the music down enough for her to find sleep again and when her phone pinged beside him, he glanced down randomly. His head had snapped back up before he could genuinely realize the notification he had seen. When it dawned on him what he might’ve seen, his eyes drifted down once more and tapped the screen to see it again.
A notification from In-n-Out stayed put on her screen and he stifled a laugh before whispering, “Oh, she’s so American.”
—
And he laughs at all my jokes and he says I’m so American. Oh God, it’s just not fair of him to make me feel this much. I’ll go anywhere he goes and he says I’m so American. Oh God, I’m gonna marry him if he keeps this shit up. I might just be in lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-love.
Ollie howled from laughter as Y/n giggled, her joke going over better than she expected. She knew it was funny, but she didn’t think the red in his face from not breathing was necessary. Still, she admired the way he admired her and went along with his hysterics. When his breathing regulated and his hunched over position came back to a seated one on the cold bench in Hyde Park, her stares were finally noticed by him.
”What?” He asked, arm wrapping around her shoulder as he shoved a piece of croissant in his mouth. He offered the last piece to Y/n and she took it, murmuring before putting it in her mouth, “Nothing. You just think I’m funny.”
Ollie’s eyebrows rose and he blew out a breath, “I think you’re hilarious.”
”I wonder how much you’ll laugh with me when you’re wasted.” Y/n’s head cocked to the side as she lost herself to thoughts.
Ollie giggled, “Probably an annoying amount when I’m pissed.”
Y/n’s jaw dropped in horror, “Not when you’re pissed! Don’t pee yourself!”
The couple turned to each other in confusion, Ollie fully taken aback, “Who said anything about peeing themselves?!”
Y/n jabbed a finger into his chest, “You did!”
Ollie pushed her softly, his hand on her waist drawing her back to him, “No, I didn’t!”
Her head fell into his chest in a fit of laughter, “Yes! I was talking about getting drunk and then you just brought up pissing yourself!”
In a moment of realization, Ollie found himself howling with laughter again. His hands clutched her frozen ones in the midst of winter before he got out, “It means the same thing! Wasted and pissed! Drunk!”
Her mouth fell open as she began to understand. Then, she pulled a face, “Why would you British people say pissed? That’s weird.”
Ollie gasped with a smile, “Hey! Don’t be rude.”
She crossed her arms, “You’re the one that insinuated peeing yourself.”
Ollie groaned and scrambled from the seat, running away from her with loud laughter, “Get away from me, American!”
She got up, rushing after him, with strangers giving them questionable looks as they began running through the bushes and trees of Hyde Park,
As she followed after him, his smile getting caught in her mind, she realized she had never felt this way about anyone. Sure, she had had guys in the past, but none of them compared to Ollie. The time they spent together, whether over the phone or in the actual presence of the other, always left her with a fuzzy feeling. A fuzzy feeling she always wanted to feel. The idea of forever was premature, but she was beginning to believe she was in love with the boy running away from her and jokingly berating her for being American. If she was in love, why not entertain the idea of marriage in her daydreams?
When she reached him, falling into his arms roughly with continued giggles, he leaned in and kissed her softly. The look in Ollie’s eyes when he pulled back made her think he might just be in love with her too.
Maybe they could entertain the idea of marriage in their daydreams together.
—
God, I’m so boring and I’m so rude. Can’t have a conversation if it’s not all about you; the way you dress and the books you read. I really love my bed, but, man, it's hard to sleep when he’s with me, when he’s with me.
Y/n brushed her teeth in the white of Ollie’s bathroom, his parents having generously let her stay in their home during her stay for Christmas. Her best friend, Charlotte, stared back at her from the phone. Their FaceTime had just started and Y/n hadn’t waited to say any greetings before jumping into rambling about Ollie.
”Charlotte, I’m so obsessed with him. I think it’s unhealthy.” She laughed, Charlotte laughing with her. Ollie eavesdropped on the other side of the door. “He’s so sweet and attentive. He remembers all the little things and even suggests things he thinks I’ll love. Which I always do. The other day, we were walking around Sussex and he saw this small book in a window and forced me into the shop. Turns out he had found a Jane Austen Pride and Prejudice First Edition. He told me he remembered how much I loved that movie and that storyline. He even referenced exact sentences that I had said in the midst of my rant about how much I love Jane Austen books. I looked at the price tag, holy shit, Char, it was so expensive. I made him leave the store immediately because the look on his face told me he needed no convincing in buying it for me. I thought I was in the clear, but apparently he’s friends with the owner of that store, so he went in early the morning after, while I was still asleep, and bought it for me. He surprised me with it along with breakfast in bed. I almost cried, Char. He’s even started reading it with me because he knows how much I love it.”
Charlotte’s eyes twinkled at the look on her friend’s face. Charlotte loved Ollie for the way he treated Y/n. “That is fucking insane. This man is in love with you, Y/n.”
Ollie’s heart exploded in his chest from the other side of the door. He had been caught.
Y/n’s whispering was loud enough for him to hear, “I think I’m in love with him too. I can’t get over his smile and his favorite pair of shoes that he most definitely needs to repurchase. I love his humor and how much he wants to make me happy. I love how he makes me feel so wanted and important. I love everything about him from his ratty Ferrari sweatshirt to the moles on his cheek.”
Ollie almost started giggling, jumping up and down like a schoolgirl, at her confession. He was ecstatic. This feeling was better than when he scored points in his first Formula 1 race. Yet, he didn’t want to let her know he knew yet. He wanted to plan something, something big that would show how serious he was about her.
The two friends hung up the phone after Y/n realized what time it was and rattled off to Charlotte about Ollie waiting for her in bed. Charlotte tried not to point out the suggestive nature of her statement, but she failed. “Use protection!” She yelped just as the phone hung up. Y/n stood in the threshold to Ollie’s bedroom, him staring back at her as the two took in Charlotte’s warning.
Ollie flopped down into the sheets, Y/n falling right into his arms. He kissed her neck and whispered, “She doesn’t need to worry. We will.”
They wouldn’t end up falling asleep until far into the night.
—
I apologize if it’s a little too much, just a little too soon, but if the conversation ever were to come up I don’t want to assume this stuff. But, ain’t it love? I think I’m in love.
Ollie couldn’t wait to tell her. Let her know that he felt the same way. And Y/n couldn’t wait to tell him about her most favorite idea, one she had come up in the wake of telling her best friend how much she loved her boyfriend. Neither of them knew the other had something so serious to discuss as they drove down the quiet street. Ollie had shoved her in the car, telling her he was taking her to a picnic under the stars. He threw his coat over her, taking his other for himself, and drove the few minutes before arriving at the open grass area near his house. He helped her out of the car, leading her to the trunk to get the box of food his mother had helped him make in preparation for this, and found a perfect spot with the clearest view of the sky.
The cold, winter air made them curl into each other, creating the perfect amount of warmth to stay. Y/n didn’t know how to breach her topic as they popped spoonfuls of soup into their mouths. Ollie beat her to it.
“Can I tell you something?” He whispered, finding her soft eyes.
She nodded, “Of course, baby.”
He sighed, putting his soup off to the side and trying to rid his body of unnecessary nerves. He knew she felt the same. Still, his hands shook slightly, not from the cold, “You have completely wrecked my life. You were so unexpected and not something I was ever anticipating, but I am so happy you fell into my life, Y/n. I will always look back on that moment at that random corner in London with so much love because…” He took a deep breath, “I love you and that was the start of you and me.”
Y/n’s face beamed and she set her soup down, throwing herself into Ollie. He fell backward, the two falling into a heap of limbs on the blanket below them. She kissed his face all over with sloppy, lovesick kisses, “Ollie! I love you too!”
He would never get over how her voice sounded whenever she said his name. Sure, she had said it in annoyed manners before when he had ticked her off, but, even then, he loved the way her accent sounded around the syllables. Never did he think he would be putting American accents first before British ones on his list of most beloved accents. Though, he was beginning to find that her smiling face was getting him to do a lot of crazy things lately. Like, buying a book worth thousands of dollars and reading it along with her. Chilling.
She tapped the back of his palms before tugging lightly on his fingers, “I have something to run past you.”
He nodded, pulling her between his legs and stroking her back. She let her legs wrap around his waist as they continued to sit on the blanket, “You know how much I want to be a writer? The reason why I’m studying English and everything?”
Ollie continued nodding, tilting his head as to tell her he had no clue where this was going.
She cleared it up quickly, however, when she nervously rambled, “What if I transferred to a UK university?”
Ollie’s heart almost flew from his chest, “Like, move here?”
She gave a small smile, “Yeah. I mean, I’ve always wanted to move here and study here. I love it here. But, now,” She kissed his lips, “I have more of a reason to. Would that be something you’d be okay with?”
He scoffed, “Would that be something I’d be okay with?! Fuck, yeah! Oh my God, Y/n, please move here. Holy shit, move here.” He begged with the cheekiest grin on his face.
She laughed, “Okay, okay. I still have to be accepted, but I have good chances with my grades and everything.”
Ollie shook her body lightly, “No, you’ll be accepted. If I start a manifestation journal specifically for this, would you judge me?”
Y/n cackled, “No, go right ahead. Tap into that spiritual force, Bearman.”
He kissed her hard, happy it seemed to work out for them. God, he wanted it to work out for them so bad.
—
And he laughs at all my jokes and he says I’m so American. Oh God, it’s just not fair of him to make me feel this much. I’ll go anywhere he goes and he says I’m so American. Oh God, I’m gonna marry him if he keeps this shit up. I might just be in lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-love.
ONE YEAR LATER
Y/n walked down the street to her dorm, a quizzical look etched into her face as she rounded the corner and ran into a hard body. Her eyes found his familiar ones from her position below him and his smile welcomed her home after a long day.
Ollie laughed, “We have got to stop meeting like this.”
She tucked herself under his arm as they began walking, “You just need to stop walking so fast.”
He laughed at her comment before leaning down and kissing her cheek, “How was your day?”
She groaned, “So long. English in a UK university is much more in depth than I was expecting. It puts American colleges to shame. Plus, for lunch, the waiter screwed up my order.”
Ollie frowned, “Oh, no. What’d they mess up?”
Y/n gave him a sad smile, “I asked for chips with my sandwich and they gave me French fries.”
There was silence before Ollie shook his head with a soft smile, “Baby, French fries are chips here.”
She stopped dead in her tracks, “What do you mean?”
He playfully rolled his eyes, “No one says French fries here. If you want that, it’s chips.”
She stood in front of him in a stance that suggested this was an outrage. He chuckled at her, “Then, what do I say if I want chips?!”
He pushed her hair away from her face lovingly, “Crisps, love.”
She huffed and turned away, walking down the sidewalk before he quickly caught up with her. She grumbled from under his arm, “You need to teach me these crazy discrepancies.”
Ollie nodded and kissed her hair, “It’s not my fault you’re so American, but sure, I will. We can start now.”
Apparently, that sufficed for her as she let out an agreeing noise, “Yeah, so where are we going for this date.”
He put his finger to his lips and shushed her, “No, it’s a surprise.”
Her mind loved the fact that he was so obsessed with planning their outings by himself. She loved how much he initiated everything. She had never felt so taken care of. She always envied the girls loved wholly by their boyfriends and now she had that for herself. There would be no day that would come that she took advantage of the boy she fell in love with two summers ago.
She shrugged, “You better be happy I trust you so much, I’d follow you into a dark cave without any questions.”
Ollie squeezed her, “I mean, I follow you anywhere you go, so if you’re not going into that cave, I’m not either.”
He pulled her down the stairs to the Tube as he slipped her backpack off her body and onto his. She kissed him in appreciation, “So, it’s settled. No dark caves.”
Ollie shook his head and led her to the place they needed to be. He held her hand tightly as they weaved through the crowds, his head flicking behind him to check on her frequently before just pushing her in front of him, his hands around her waist as he steered her.
When they got to their platform, he added his last thought to their conversation, “We need to get married first before wandering into dangerous caves.”
He said it so nonchalantly, it made her fall in love with him more. And when he met her eyes after he was met with silence, he found overwhelming joy within them.
He kissed her in the midst of the chaos underground, his hands cradling her face and hers loosely around his waist. They were a sight for sore eyes, but no one saw them in the midst of their special moment.
It was just for themselves and would be referred back to in the coming years as the moment where their forever really started.
Bloody hell, they were so in love.
#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#ollie bearman#ollie bearman x reader#ollie bearman x you#ollie bearman x y/n#ollie bearman x female reader#ollie bearman fluff#Spotify
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A Small Secret
Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader
Synopsis: To all, he came off as the brash, rude, bad guy. To you - he was a man in love.
Trope: cold to all, warm to you trope, established relationship
Warnings: non-explicit smut, fem!reader, shy!reader, soft!Sukuna, kissing, loss of virginity, soft sex, fingering, praise kink, healthy relationship, aftercare.
General Warnings: No curse AU, kinda OOC, usage of vulgar words, usage of nicknames, no mentions of y/n.
MDNI - Minors do not interact!
Word count: 1k
A/N: this is me fixing up my mind after writing On such a full moon night (no need to read that to understand what's happening, both are separate tales). Like lmao, let's be honest that was traumatizing and I needed something sweet with my curse baby hence I wrote this.
Ryomen Sukuna was many things but soft.
Whether it was the brutal remarks he threw at almost everyone or the way he'd just let his fists do the talking when anyone or anything displeased him.
Even in a bedroom, he didn't care about that or perhaps any softness. Sex for him was always rough, cause that got his adrenaline pumping, that brought him the satisfaction which he desired.
Bottom line: Sukuna Ryomen is not soft.
Asked from any of his previous flings if he'd ever been soft towards them? They'd laugh it off like some prank as in the answer isn't an obvious no.
Asked from you... well, you'd laugh too but begging to differ from that opinion.
Cause, you knew Ryomen Sukuna is capable of tenderness too.
You'd probably be ridiculed for making such a bold and (may I say) outrageous statement.
Stiffling a chuckle, you'd reminiscent the night you spent with him…
Oh, the way he lied you down on the mattress; Holding you like you were a China doll. You were so soft and fragille that he feared one wrong move and you'd break.
The way he gazed at you with absolute admiration and fondness.
And with your permission he leans in, pressing his lips to yours, catching you in a soft yet passionate kiss. His rough and calloused hands glided down your waist to your hips, as he continued to pepper kisses down your jaw and neck.
He undressed you, all so slowly, reminding himself over and over that it was your first time. A low whistle left his lips when he glanced down at your barely covered form and you'd be lying if you said you weren't nervous.
But the way he gazed at you - like an artist admiring his art. And how could he not? You were a masterpiece to begin with.
So beautiful. So gorgeous.
"Fucking perfect," He muttered under his breath, relinquishing all the doubts that clogged your head.
You gasped, gripping onto the bedsheets tightly when his fingers made contact with your clothed core. And Sukuna smirked, cooing at you, telling you how much wet you were for him.
Oh the way, he pulled your hand off your mouth when you tried to suppress your moans as he carefully pumped his finger in your dripping cunt.
No, nah, not in a million years is he ever going to miss your mewls while you laid under him.
His smirk grew when you moaned his name while his fingers hit the bundle of nerves. Just the right place. Your hips involuntarily pushed into his fingers, as you breathed hard, lips parted.
And damn, when he tasted you on his fingers. He could swear that nothing could taste sweeter, "You are a dessert on your own, baby."
Your cheeks flushed a bright red color, and when you tried to bury your face on your palms; you were quickly chided by Sukuna.
He would never miss any of your expressions.
Even then, you were scared...scared of the pain when the first penetration occurs. And he saw it in your eyes - the fear. He quietly leaned down, locking his lips to yours, tracing the skin on your forearm.
When it did happen...your eyes fluttered close as a loud groan slipped your mouth.
Sukuna waited, yes- waited. Waited for you to adjust, for the pain to subside. He caressed your cheek and held you firmly by the hips. All while looking at you with nothing but love, his hands glided down your body like he'd known this territory for years or more.
When you gave the signal, he started to move. His thrusts were slow at first, constantly checking if you weren't at any discomfort. Gradually, he picked up speed, still holding onto you just as tenderly as before.
Everything he did was just so raw and tender. All his touches, his kisses, everything.
"Mhm, taking me so well. Aren't you a natural at this, doll?" His red eyes met yours while you remained a moaning and whimpering mess. "Such a good girl."
He praised you more, from how gorgeous to just how good you felt taking him in.
It's like you were created for him...just for him.
And for once, they weren't empty praises. They meant more than he could ever let on.
For once, he didn't want to take, he wanted to give. He wanted you to feel just as good as you made him feel if not more.
For once, it wasn't just sex. For once, he wasn't just mindlessly fucking.
After it were over, he held you close, running his finger through your hair, the pad of his fingers grazing your scalp. Cleaning you up while all you wanted to do was snuggle up beside him and fall asleep.
When exhaustion started to pool in, you rested your head on his chest while his hand laid over your waist like a protective shield. He watched you fall asleep, the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest as he brushed off the hairs from your face.
The moonlight from the window, highlighting the outline of your figure. He watched you, his lips curled into a soft smile.
"So beautiful." His grip tightened around your waist, not enough to hurt you, but just enough to let you know about his presence. He pressed a kiss down your forehead when you stirred in your sleep.
Even then, between you both laid a small secret.
It wasn't just your first time today, it was his too. Cause, for the first time - Sukuna made love.
#sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna#ryomen sukuna#sukuna ryomen#sukuna ryomen x reader#sukuna x you#jjk x reader#sukuna smut#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#jujutsu kaisen x reader#sukuna fanfic#sukuna jujutsu kaisen
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Simple Math / Part Eleven
Simple Math masterlist
Ghost/Soap/female reader
6k words - AO3
Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Graphic depiction of domestic violence. This fic contains mature themes. Mention of pregnancy. Nurse!reader, hospital setting, medical inaccuracies. Bun is in pain, goes to a doctor. Dissociation. Lots of despair, fear, anxiety. The 141 reunites. Nightmares. Comfort. Tenderness. Angst.
Welcome home.
“Knock knock.”
“Bunny.” Johnny murmurs, lifting an arm, urging you close, a moon to a tide.
“Hi.” You bend, moving into the hug, pressing your face to his neck for a quick second before straightening.
“I miss ye.” You survey him, glancing at the monitor, the brace on his leg and hip, the disconnected fluid line. He’s doing well. You’re so relieved to see it with your own eyes, ribs rattling with a long exhale. Satisfied, you smile, tension bleeding from your spine.
“Simon says you’re terrorizing your night nurse.”
“Am not. She’s jus’ not gentle, or quiet. Wakes me up.”
“That’s her job.” He scoffs, waving you off. You settle in the chair at his side, and he takes your hand in his, lifting it to his lips, dotting kisses across your knuckles. His affection is freeing, sweet and easy, a warm breeze on a spring day. It overflows your heart with warmth until you think it might spill over, and you go with it, following his lead, even though your better judgement, the girl in the mirror, wails.
“Ye look good. Better. Swellin’ gone down?” He cradles your chin, turning your face from left to right, inspecting with a crystal-clear sapphire gleam.
“Yeah, my shoulder is still sore but… yeah. I feel better.”
“’m glad. Simon keepin’ ye off yer feet all day then?”
“Oh my god.” You laugh. “He keeps telling me to lay down. Or asking if I want to take a nap.” Johnny chuckles.
“Sounds right. He’s a bit o’ a mother hen, that one. He cares though, we both do.”
“I know.” You squeeze his hand. “And I missed you too.”
“He said ye an’ him had a nice chat the other night?” Your cheeks burn. Oh god. Did he… “I’m a wee bit jealous.” He complains, turning his nose up and away in a mock pout, and you roll your eyes.
You laid in bed all night and thought about these moments. Thought about Simon’s mouth on yours, his hand on your ass, squeezing and stroking. You thought about how he tasted, how he smelled, the way he looked at you, like you were a part of their world, a piece of them.
And you thought about Johnny. Johnny alone here, Johnny trapped in the hospital, healing, unable to leave or even get out of bed. How anxious he must be, being separated from his family, how frustrating it is to spend so long trying to get better.
You wanted to give him something. Wanted to make him feel better, see him smile.
Here goes nothing.
Leaning, standing, you dip into his orbit, lightly bumping your noses together. It takes no time until his good hand is around the back of your neck, crashing your mouth into his, and he breathes you in, holding you steady, tongue and teeth and lips swirling together in a ubiquitous, overwhelming haze. He tastes like summer rain, the feeling in the air before a giant storm, electric and blazing, brilliant glow transferring between the two of you, lightning striking a mountaintop. He nips your bottom lip, heat flooding your stomach, and you pull away slowly, his eyes jeweled and shimmering, brilliantly blue.
“Bunny,” You try to swallow a quiet giggle and fail. “I’ll have to tell ye I’m jealous more often.”
“Don’t take advantage.” You playfully scold.
“Me? Take advantage?” He pretends to be outraged, voice piquing higher, and you laugh again. “How can I take advantage when ‘m the one stuck here in this bed while ye two are at home, playin’ house, takin’ couch naps and gettin’ butt rubs. No one cares about Johnny, no-“
“Shhh.” You press your lips to his, silencing him, remaining in the kiss that’s long and soft and saccharine. He sneaks his tongue back between your teeth, mischievous and wild, every bit the man you’re drawn to, an attraction you can’t fight.
“Well.” Simon clears his throat from the doorway, brows raised, mask snug. “Hope I’m not interrupting.” You don’t know why, but you fly backwards, nearly stumbling, cheeks on fire. You feel like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t, and that feeling, the pit in the bottom of your stomach, is all too reminiscent.
It frightens you.
“Whoa, hey.” Johnny tries to snag a finger around your wrist, but you step out of the way.
“It’s alright.” Simon moves inside fully, clicking the door shut behind him. “You’re not in trouble. Nothing is wrong, I was just kidding. That’s my fault.” You shake your head.
He’s not mad. Johnny is fine. Everything is fine.
You’re overreacting. You’re making a mess of this.
You shouldn’t even be doing this in the first place. What’re you doing? Who are you kidding?
“I’m s-sorry.” You stammer, hands wringing together anxiously.
“Ye dinnae have anything to be sorry about.” Johnny protests, still trying to reach for you.
Get it together. You have to get it together.
You close your eyes.
Deep breath. In and out. You can do it. Just breathe.
It works. You’re steadier, and you meet their watchful gazes as your eyes open.
“You okay?” Simon murmurs, moving very slowly to the other side of the bed where you’re standing, like he’s approaching a spooked, scared, wild animal.
“Yeah. Sorry. Just… had a moment. I’m fine.” Not entirely true, but that’s alright. You feel a little unsteady, a little unnerved, and Johnny frowns.
“Ye should sit.”
“I’m fine.”
“Bunny, please. For me?” He bats his eyelashes, and you want to groan.
But you lower yourself in the chair all the same.
Quiet falls over the room. It’s awkward and stiff, and you curse yourself for ruining the moment.
“Hey.” Simon soothes, reading your mind. “Hey, you’re alright. Everything is fine.” You nod, unsettled. He squeezes your good shoulder and dips past you, leaning to press a gentle kiss to Johnny’s brow, before dotting his nose and pushing their lips together. Their kiss is long, languid touch melting away to expose their connection, trust and love on full display. Delicate and rare, their affection makes your heart flutter, pulchritudinous whispers given to one another as Simon holds Johnny’s hand, stroking a familiar pattern into his skin, something similar to the way he touches you. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine. Wish they’d let me out of this bloody bed.” Johnny grumbles. You clear your throat.
“They’re waiting on your wrist. Once your wrist can support your weight on crutches, then you’ll be able to start PT and be released.”
“Ach. I know.” He’s frustrated, it’s clear. You know it’s not easy, being here, being separated, stuck in a hospital.
“It won’t be too long.” You try to reassure him, and he nods, still a little forlorn. “Here,” you stand with a burst of confidence, knocking his arm with the back of your hand as a direction, “scooch over.”
His eyes light. Simon laughs.
You fold yourself onto the edge of the bed, turned on your side, curled along where he’s the least banged up, careful of the sensitive graft lurking beneath his hospital gown.
“There. That better?” His good arm wraps around you carefully, settling on your ribs, a thumb tracing the wrinkle of your shirt.
“Aye, much better.” Your knees are bent, and cool air ghosts over your lower back, where your shirt has ridden up and exposed your skin. You shiver.
“Cold?” Simon murmurs, and you nod. He’s close, hovering, pulling a blanket up from the end of the bed to cover both you and Johnny. He tucks it around the two of you carefully and leans forward, pulling his mask down again to brush his lips across Johnny’s brow.
You watch in a daze. They don’t speak, but there’s something happening between them, something being said in their eyes as Simon holds his face briefly, and Johnny nods.
They both look to you, your bottom lip caught between teeth.
“Want one too?” Simon hums, cupping the back of your head. “Here.” He kisses you, lingering in it, heat of his naked mouth still a shock to your system.
Johnny is beaming, and cuddles you as close as possible, cheek resting atop your forehead.
They make you dizzy. All of it feels like some kind of dream, a world impossible, a fantasy suddenly turned real life. You’re on the verge of spinning out of control inside it, losing yourself.
It doesn’t help that everything you’ve done over these last few years, this identity, this life, the work that went into hiding and planning and saving and scraping, trying to stay unseen and unnoticed-
Was all for nothing.
“Bunny?” Johnny whispers, bringing you back to them. Simon is settled in the recliner, the same one from the ICU room, but his arm is stretched past your head, fingers playing idly in Johnny’s very long mohawk.
“Sorry. I’m here.”
“Where did ye go?” He tightens his hold, and you snuggle in closer, hiding away from everything bearing down on you, the pain and the panic and the doubt. You hide your face from it, refuse to acknowledge it, desperately trying to stay in this moment, hoping to just be… be here with them. In the sun.
“Nowhere.”
A day passes. Then another, and another, and another. Your face nearly looks normal, puffiness and swelling practically gone, and your neck aches less and less with each passing day.
Your shoulder, on the other hand, is a problem.
It never stops hurting. You struggle to get your arm through your shirts, can barely lift it, can't pick anything up, and it’s so sore, tender, and stiff, like it’s been dislocated or worse, broken. You’re worried, worried about going back to work without a full range of motion, worried about being in pain.
Worried about being even more permanently damaged than you already are.
Just another tally mark. Just another thing you must live with now, a permanent remnant of him, a forever reminder of just how foolish you really are.
You’re weak. You’re stupid. You’re damaged.
The pain breaks you down. It prevents you from sleeping, keeps you twisting and turning through a roil of dark dreams. It depresses you, sinks its teeth into your flesh and gnaws on the pieces touched by the sun, the parts of your heart still beating, somehow.
It reminds you of everything you’re desperate to forget.
It all comes crashing down one morning. The despair. The helpless feeling brewing in your stomach. The loneliness. It keeps you there, in bed, in agony, past breakfast.
It keeps you there, until you hear the creak of the stairs, a firm knock.
“I’m coming in.” Simon advises, trying the door, cracking it enough to stick his head through.
You’re crumpled in the middle of the mattress, pillows strewn about from trying to find a comfortable position, tears already dried. Your shoulder hurts so bad, and you don’t know why, don’t know why it’s not getting better, not healing.
“Hey, sleepyhead.” He sits at your side, hand resting on your hip, inspecting the worry lines, the frown tugging at your lips. “What’s going on?” Guilt swamps you.
“It’s nothing, my shoulder just kept me up, so I’m a little tired. That’s all.” You paste on your work smile, forced and believable, but he only shakes his head.
“Don’t do that.” He thumbs your brow. “I think you should see a doctor.”
“N-no.” You can’t. He doesn’t understand. They’ll want to take x-rays. X-rays lead to questions.
He never takes you at face value. Always pushing. Always digging, looking you over. “Why not?”
“It’s… it’s not necessary. I’m fine, it’s probably just a deep bruise.”
“You’d be experiencing less pain if that was the case.” You raise an eyebrow. He shrugs. “I know a little bit. We all have basic medic training, and I’ve been reading up, for when Johnny gets home.” He pats your hip. “Let’s make you an appointment.” You shake your head.
“No!” It’s too sharp, too insistent, and he freezes. You wince. “I’m sorry. It’s just-“
“You can’t go to a doctor.” He finishes, like he knows. “Tell me why, sweetheart.” You take a shaky breath.
You can’t. You shouldn’t.
Sunlight taps against the iron that’s encrusted around your heart. It knocks, wanting to be let in. It searches for weakness, places of opportunity, slivers of space where it can find its way.
Your mouth starts moving before you give it permission, like it knows this is where you’re headed, no matter how hard you fight, no matter how deeply the survivor’s logic is ingrained in your brain.
“It… it’s not safe.”
“It creates a trail.” He surmises, and you nod. For a wild moment, you wonder if he’s a plant. If they’re a trap, designed to get you to lower your guard, fabricated to encourage you to trust, to love, just so the jaws of Philip’s cruelty can close around you at the most opportune moment.
They wouldn’t. They’re not. You’re being ridiculous. You’re paranoid.
“We’ll make it under my name. Our primary is service member focused, and very discreet. You’ll be safe.” He makes it hard to argue, even though you want to. You should.
“I- I don’t know.”
“I can’t stand to see you in pain like this.” He rebukes, and then smiles softly, eyes lighting up. “Besides, I’m going to need your help. Johnny’s coming home on Friday.”
“He is?” You push upward. “Really?”
“Really.” He’s beaming, radiant sunshine spilling from his lips, and it makes you emotional, seeing him so happy, so weightless. “He passed a strength test on his wrist this morning. He needs a few days of PT in hospital, and then he can do it outpatient. His care team has signed off, and he’s ready.”
“Oh my god, that’s great!”
“It is. But I want both of you on the mend, not just one. Please.” It doesn’t take much more for you to concede, unable to find an excuse or a good enough reason, one he’s not able to combat.
“Alright, I guess.”
“Simon. Good to see you.” The doctor extends his hand and Simon shakes it readily, keeping his body positioned between you and the physician, one hand still on your knee.
He’s had a hand on you for the last half hour. You’ve been rattling on the exam table, shifting and fretful, disquieted energy spilling forth since he coaxed you into the car this morning.
“Dr. Fitch.”
“This is my patient?” He motions to you, and Simon stands to the side, concentrating, eyes focused above the mask. You give your name, and the provider repeats it with a warm smile.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Fitch.” You raise your good arm to shake his hand, and he pulls the rolling stool underneath him, taking a seat opposite Simon at your knee.
A warm palm flexes at your lower back. It’s soothing, comforting.
I’m here, it says. You’re safe.
“Simon says you’ve been having some shoulder pain?”
“Yeah, I had… I had an injury. Thought there was some soft tissue damage, maybe some minor bruising, but the pain is too persistent.”
“Mind if I take a look?” He points to the side you’re clearly favoring.
“Sure.” It’s not comfortable, to have another man’s hands on you outside of your job. There’s no trust there, no familiarity like there is with Simon and Johnny, and your body knows it, practically vibrating as he walks his fingers up your scapula. Simon stays close, still with a hand at your back, watching intently.
Dr Fitch holds your elbow, and slowly lifts your arm until you’re telling him to stop, pins and needles radiating through your shoulder and up your neck.
“I think we need an x-ray so we can really see what’s going on.” Your fingers curl, nails digging into your palm.
Fuck.
“I… I think I just need a sling, or an immobilizer for a few weeks. Give it some time to heal.” You try to protest, but he shakes his head.
“I can’t be sure of any of that, without an x-ray.” Oh god. You think you might throw up.
He’s right, though. You know he’s right. You know no good provider in their right mind would sign off on a treatment plan without knowing the extent of an injury. He’s not going to let you dictate what you need.
“Bun.” Simon murmurs, and you blow out a rough breath.
“Okay, fine.”
Dr. Fitch is grim when he reappears almost an hour later, throwing the films up for both you and Simon to see.
You spot what’s soured him immediately, and there’s a sharp intake of breath behind you, the tell-tale sign of Simon noticing it too.
“This side of your body has seen a lot of trauma.” The doctor says gently. He’s not unkind, but still clinical. The kind of provider you’d like you work with, you think. “These old injuries, your clavicle, acromion, even this break in your ulna, make your scapula a very delicate part of your body. I think an MRI would show a fair amount of cartilage damage in these areas.” He motions around your joint, and you close your eyes.
You can’t do this.
If Dr. Fitch sees your unease or panic, he pushes past it. “You have a rotator cuff tear. The good news is, it’s not surgical. I recommend physical therapy for injuries like these, along with activity modification and lots of rest. I want to do a corticosteroid injection for your pain as well. Today, if you’d like. You’ll need to rest your arm for twenty-four hours afterwards, make sure you’re not lifting anything or moving it…” He continues, but you lose track, lose focus, staring at the vinyl tile, weird grey and pink and green patterns all worked together to make some of the ugliest floor you’ve ever seen.
You zone out. Lose yourself. The films mock you, their ugly, horrific images hanging you out to dry, showcasing the truth, the reminders you’ll never be able to escape.
The pieces of you, changed permanently.
It’s hard to look at. Hard to think of.
You’d rather be considering survival. Counting your cash and researching new places to live. New communities to disappear inside, a new life to assume.
It’s easier to run.
You can’t look at Simon. Can't bear the shame. Can't believe he's seeing this, your nightmares on display.
You keep your eyes fixed on the wall.
The girl in the mirror is falling apart. She despises being confronted with your failings, your weakness, the results of your stupidity.
It’s far less common now, these mistakes. These slip ups.
But before… before… they indulged Philip in a beautiful game of cat and mouse. You made it fun, made it exciting. A wolf with his prey. Playing with his food before he eats. Before he strings it up and breaks its collarbone because he likes to hear it scream.
Simon is talking to the provider, asking questions, receiving answers. You can barely hear him. You’re underwater.
The only thing that tethers you to the earth is the hand on your back, the warm, gentle, broad, grounding pressure.
There’s more conversation, and then Dr. Fitch is vacating the room.
Is it time to go?
You try to stand on autopilot, but Simon holds you steady.
“We’re going to do the steroid, for your pain.” He drifts into your line of sight, pulling the mask down. “Bunny, look at me.”
When you can’t, he follows your gaze.
The films come off the wall within the next second, ripped down by the long reach of his arm.
Gone.
“I have to go.” You whisper.
“You’re not going anywhere. You’re going to get this injection, and then I’m going to take you home and put you to bed.”
He doesn’t understand your meaning.
Or maybe he does.
Home. The word rings in your ears like a punch. It’s like you’ve been hit with it, burned with it.
Home.
He’s not forceful, but you still feel the pressure, the insistence. You expect to rail against him. To cower.
Instead, you slip inside it. Allow him to tell you what to do, to make the decision. You fall easily into him, and he holds your hand through it all, while the injection site is swabbed, when the needle goes in. He holds your hand out to the car, holds your hand as he buckles you in. He holds your hand as he tucks you into a bed larger and softer than the one you've been sleeping in. It smells like him and Johnny, soft sheets and pillows piled around you like a wall, false sense of security building every time you twitch, testing where is he is, if he’s left yet.
The last thing you feel before you drift off to sleep is your hand, still in his.
You don't know how long you sleep. You sail in the darkness, navigating turbulent seas, waking every now and then, sometimes alone... sometimes not.
The baby monitor blinks pale green, little circle fuzzy on the edge of your vision, appearing and disappearing throughout the day.
Sometimes the bed is warm. Sometimes it's not.
When it is, you seek him out on instinct, trying to crawl inside his ribs, frantic with your effort to hide, to run. He holds you through it, rocks you gently, tells you you're safe, says you don't have to be afraid anymore, he's here now. He'll take care of you.
There's a rope around your ankle, tied too tight, tethered to the ocean floor. It drags you down, rips you away from him, fills your lungs and silences you.
You didn't make it.
All you can see behind closed lids is those films. All you can feel is the phantom ache in your limbs, the remnants of a shadow, still living and breathing inside of you.
The girl in the mirror is silent. Nothing to say for once in her life, she weeps like her chest is being carved open, sobs and screams pouring out in a flood.
I know you'll be here when I get back, won't you?
The house is vibrant today.
Lou has been here, stocking the fridge, precooking some meals, and her husband is helping Simon rearrange the living room, moving pieces of the couch to be more accessible, laughing back and forth quietly. Occasionally, he stops into the kitchen where you’re seated next to Pen in her highchair, checking in, but never encroaching.
He doesn’t get too close, right now. You’re still underwater somewhere, lost in a current. You’re here, but not really, silently drifting like a ghost, watching and waiting for something or someone to shake you out of it.
Simon hasn’t yet, but he’s watching. Always.
He’s intentionally careful, loud. Announcing himself everywhere he goes in the house, telling you everything he’s doing.
You didn’t understand why at first. Didn’t realize you hadn’t spoken in eight hours, and then ten, then twelve.
Trapped in a tomb of yourself, locked away with the girl in the mirror.
Guilt burns like a wildfire.
This should be a happy time. A wonderful time.
But all you’re doing is making a mess of their life.
Lou, thankfully, doesn’t push you either. She’s content to let you sit there, next to Pen. She keeps an eye out, glancing over at you occasionally, but your placating smiles seem to satisfy her.
Simon steps in front of the counter, ducking his head down to catch your eyes. “I’m going to pick Johnny up.” Somewhere, in the pits of hell, excitement blooms. Happiness tries to sprout. “Do you want to come?” Definitely not. They’ll certainly clap him out, and there’s no way you can be there for that.
“No, I’m… okay.”
“Okay. Penny is coming with me, but John and Lou are staying here. Kyle is coming by. If Johnny’s feeling up to it, I’m hoping to do dinner all together.” Acid is tossed around, tempestuous in your stomach. Lou smiles around his side.
“Want to watch something while we wait?”
“Sure.” She disappears down the hall, saying something to John, and Simon slowly pulls Pen from her chair, kissing her cheek and nose before cradling her to his chest. She’s not a small baby, but in his hold, she’s tiny, soft and delicate, content in her dad’s arms, still a little sleepy from her afternoon nap.
“We’ll be back soon.” He whispers, turning to go.
Your hand whips forward instinctively, out of control.
It latches onto his.
“Simon. I’m… I’m sorry.” You’re sorry you’re ruining everything. You’re sorry you’re fucked up beyond belief, you’re sorry he had to see all that in the doctor’s office, you’re sorry, you’re sorry, you’re sorry.
He squeezes. “Shhh, hey. There’s nothing to be sorry about.” He shifts, still holding Penny, but stooping down to crouch at your knees, his own popping with effort. “It’s okay, if you have to go somewhere else for a little while up there, as long as you're not lost in it.” He motions to your head. “Nothing has changed. We’re still right here, everything is alright. Huh, Penny girl?” He bounces her, and she shrieks out a giggle, reaching for his face. He kisses her hands like he’s trying to eat them, rumble in his voice making her squeal, and he catches your faint smile. “There she is.” He kisses your forehead. “We’ll be back soon, okay?”
“Okay.”
You hear Johnny before you see him.
There’s a scrape of crutches, his voice animated, talking to his baby, Penny giggling wildly outside on the walk. Lou and John exchange a comfortable smile, and she manages to get the door open before Simon can get his key in the lock.
“Welcome home!” She exclaims, and Penny squeaks, clapping excitedly. She’s wriggly, wanting to get down immediately upon crossing the threshold, but Simon holds her firm, turned around so Lou can snap their picture.
“Ach, Price, can ye do somethin’-“ Johnny laments, but the captain only laughs and looks on.
“Hey! Come on, you’ll want this, later. I promise. Look over here.” They’re picture perfect, Penny cradled between them, Johnny’s hair moved out of his face, his posture a little slouched because of his hip and leg. His head rests on Simon’s shoulder, an arm stretched across his middle, right under Penny, who glows from her perch, the center of attention.
An ache unfurls in the middle of your chest, a sore spot, growing, spreading through your body.
They’re so lovely, it hurts. This moment is beautiful, a homecoming, a story of survival and perseverance. Johnny’s strength and determination. Doing something you know a lot of people initially doubted.
The dark spot of pain passes, fleeting.
Johnny’s eyes find yours. “Ye goin’ make me hobble all the way over there?” He teases, and you shake your head.
The two of you can only give half hugs, but you make it work, holding onto him, fingers fisted in the back of his shirt.
“Welcome home.” You whisper in his ear, and he pulls away, notching his forehead against yours. His eyes glitter, heavy, trembling breath filtering through his nose, and he kisses you slowly, so painfully slowly it’s like you’re the only one in the entire house, in the whole world.
“You too, bunny.”
Dinner is lively. Kyle arrives shortly before it’s time to sit down, greetings and warm wishes passed around as everyone gets settled, Penny positioned in highchair between the guys with mashed potatoes and peas already scooped onto her tray. Johnny’s on your left, with Lou on your right, and Simon sits at the head of the table, across from who you realize now, is his old, or kind of still, boss.
He looks perfect there, half turned towards Pen and Johnny, radiantly smiling at his partner and daughter, trying again and again to catch your eye. Johnny's knee stays steady against yours, fingertips occasionally brushing your thigh, and the two of them try to draw you in, pull you towards them, over and over.
Conversation flows easily. They’re all talking, laughing, swapping stories, poking at one another. Kyle tells you about a time he fell out of a helicopter, and they all tease Johnny about nearly dying this time, or a different time, you can’t be too sure.
“Ye jus’ wish ye had the natural ability I do.” He sniffs, and Kyle chortles, struggling to swallow his food.
“I’d probably be dead, mate.”
“’Cause ye cannae handle it!” He retorts, and Simon laughs, causing Penny to giggle too, and then the entire table erupts in it, attention redirected, cooing at the adorable girl with mashed potatoes smeared on her face. Johnny and Simon fuss over her, a perfect family in unison.
There’s a whining, buzzing noise in the back of your head. It’s an off-key tenor, annoying and coarse, like the snag of rough skin texture against a soft sweater.
What are you doing here?
The world, this room, these people, spin and spiral around you. Talking, laughing, loving. Making connections with each other, feeling the warmth of love and friendship, of happiness.
The buzzing gets louder.
You’re vaguely in it now, still seated but not here, not anywhere. You’re drifting, falling away, slipping behind walls and layers, hiding.
The girl in the mirror approves.
What makes you think you have any right to be here? What makes you think you could ever possibly belong here? With them? With their friends? Their family?
You’re an intruder.
You’re risking their safety. You’re making a mistake.
Lou boasts a sharp laugh, and you nearly flinch.
You don’t belong here. You’re supposed to be alone. It was supposed to be okay, to be alone.
You’re selfish.
Simon reaches for Johnny’s hand, stretching across Penny’s spot, eyes heavy with love. There’s so much in his expression alone, dedication, devotion, borderline obsession bleeding through, and he holds Johnny like he’s holding his lifeline.
You’ll never be loved like that, known like that, cherished and protected… like that.
And why should you be?
You’re standing before you announce it, trying to hold yourself together. Both guys look to you, Simon’s expression changing from amusement and love to worry and concern, while Johnny mirrors it, and tries to grab your hand.
“Ye alright?”
“Bun?”
“I’m fine, just… uh. My stomach.” You lie, motioning away from the table, like it makes any sense. You excuse yourself quickly, apologizing, and practically run up the stairs.
The guest bathroom door locks, and you slide down against the tub, slumping over to rest your cheek on cold tile. “Fuck.” You whisper, rubbing at your cheeks. What is wrong with you?
You lay there long enough that your shoulder starts to hurt. Everything aches, your heart too, and wipe your cheeks over and over, trying to regain control of a sinking ship.
God, you really, really hope they aren’t mad you bailed.
The bed is your only option, your only salvation, and you sink into without fuss, burying yourself beneath a pile of blankets, hiding yourself away from the world.
At least when you sleep, you can’t think.
At least when you sleep, you can’t feel.
“Philip, please.”
“You made a fucking fool of me tonight.” He grips your upper arm so tight it feels like he’s cutting into your flesh, branding you, burning you down to the bone.
“No, I- I wasn’t trying to, I swear.”
“I think you were, spitfire. I think you wanted to see me sweat, didn’t you? Wanted to play a little game, huh?”
“No!” you’re crying, chest heaving with giant sobs, and his fist tightens in your hair, dragging you down to the ground. “No, Philip, stop. Stop!”
“Shut up.” You’re crawling on your knees, trying to keep pace, trying to stay in stride with him as he tugs, practically pulling you down the hallway to the bedroom.
Once he gets there, he jerks you upwards.
The hardwood floor is the next thing you see as your face crashes into it.
“S-stop.” You’re barely audible, buried in sobs. He mocks you.
“Stoooop, babe. Stop please.” Your arms cover your head, trying to protect your delicate bones there, your skull, your nose, your cheeks.
His foot rears back.
The world goes cold.
“NO!” you jerk your knees up to your chest, rolling away. “No! I’m pregnant!”
You think he’ll be happy. You think he’ll be pleased.
Instead, it’s raw, concentrated fury you see lining his face, lightning and thunder gathering in his eyes.
“You’re what?”
You come to trembling, coated in a cold sweat.
It’s okay. He’s not here. He’s not. You’re safe.
You clasp a hand over your mouth to ward off the volume of the sob, nausea rising until you’re almost gagging.
It’s okay.
You can do this. Get it together.
Time ticks away, but the agony of your memory, your nightmare, doesn’t fade. It settles in your bones like a sickness, infecting your mind and heart, keeping you from closing your eyes.
You can’t go back there. Not in real life. Not in your dreams. Not ever.
You would die before that happened.
Johnny and Simon sleep down the hall. You wonder if they’re wrapped up together, if Johnny is comfortable, if their room is cozy and homey, bed heavenly and full of love.
You could…
No.
The clock on your phone reads three in the morning. You feel like you haven’t slept at all, but every time you try to close your eyes, dread spreads, tenebrous and sticky, clinging to every synapse in your logical brain.
You eye the door.
You could…
Should you? Would they be mad? Would they welcome you? Would they even answer?
You don’t know how you convince yourself to do it, to drag your weak will down the hall and knock on their door, but you do. You’re a child the whole way, padding up to a parent’s room in the middle of the night, looking for salvation and sanctuary, desperate for comfort.
It takes almost no time after your timid little rap for the door to swing wide, Simon standing behind it, little lamp flicked on where Johnny is half sitting up, mostly still asleep, rubbing his eyes.
“Hi.” You whisper, distracted by Simon’s naked chest. He’s wearing sweatpants, but they’re slung low on his hips, soft tummy with wispy light brown hair peeking out above the drawstring. You think you’re staring, and you force a blink, trying to appear normal.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“N-nothing, I just… I had a nightmare and…I… I can’t…” the rest doesn’t come out, laying heavy on your tongue, trying to organize itself so it doesn’t seem so intrusive, or weak.
He doesn’t make you feel bad. Or guilty. He doesn’t even ask, he just steps aside, motioning to bed, clicking the door shut behind him.
“Take the middle.” He whispers, and you crawl across the expanse, timidly smiling at Johnny, who’s still yawning. He’s got his bad leg and hip set up on a bunch of pillows, and the spot next to him is still warm.
“Hey pretty girl.”
“Hi.” He pats the empty space, shoving the blankets down to the best of his ability to let you get underneath them.
“Bad dream?” He drawls, slow and sleepy.
“Yeah.”
“C’mere.” He tries to tug you closer, but Simon scolds him softly.
“Johnny, easy. Your graft.” He turns, sliding, encouraging you to settle on your side, with him at your back. “There we go. That’s better, hm?” It is better. So much better. Warm and safe. Blocked in on either side by them, your hand resting on Johnny’s sternum, grounding yourself with the rise and fall of his breathing, Simon nestling you into his chest, heavy arm slung across your ribs to hold Johnny’s hand.
It's so nice, tucked between them like you belong there, things start to spiral a little bit, doubt and worry fueling a cycle of second guessing. You shift restlessly, and Simon rubs your hip, soothing whatever he senses amiss back to neutral, lips humming just above your ear. “Close your eyes, little bunny. We’re here. You’re safe.”
#peaches writes#simple math#ghoap x reader#ghost x reader x soap#ghost x soap x reader#simon riley#john mactavish#simon riley x reader#soap x reader#john mactavish x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#ghost x reader
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more, more, more — carmy x reader
carmen berzatto x coworker!reader
listen to me. this man? this man?? so fucking slutty. so fucking slutty i can’t even think straight. i am absolutely AGHAST at how little writing there is of this man online. absolutely OUTRAGEOUS. he looks like that and none of us have done his character justice?? DISGRACEFUL.
i wrote this in direct response to how angry i am at how little there is.
as always, warnings… SMUT!, alcohol consumption, alcohol consumption with sex, smoking, p in v penetration, work relationships, overstimulation, carmen berzatto being an absolute mind blowing fuck on a table i mean in bed
also, minors fuck RIGHT the fuck off
barely edited we die like men
i stole that joke don’t come for me
anyway....
you didn’t really know how it happened.
you were once an unemployed law student, scared of drowning in bills, and eagerly awaiting a call back from anyone that would hire you — when she called.
natalie berzatto.
her voice was warm and comforting on the phone, and very eager to have you come in. she was relaying important information to you on the phone, and while you grabbed bits and pieces, it was hard to focus on anything else besides the sheer excitement of finally having a job. the job would be stressful, sure — but at least you wouldn’t be broke and stressed.
unfortunately, your first couple of shifts were a mess and a half. you took instructions well, and performed well, but in the hospitality business — that means nothing when an oven burner is out, a dishwasher doesn’t show up for a shift, richie starts barking, or when carmen’s upset.
carmen.
fucking carmen.
while soft spoken, there was nothing that could compare to the look of approval in his eye when you had completed a task to his standard. most people would consider the job of a hostess useless, or not a job at all — something to laugh at, but carmen? no. that man took your job very seriously, as he knew what it meant to provide the full experience to the customer.
however, when something was lacking in the kitchen and that experience was interrupted… carmen took the look of approval, almost gratefulness, away and replaced it with something that everyone felt like they had to walk around shards of glass.
when he was angry? oh, fuck… that could ruin anyone’s night.
the worst of it happened when his sister unexpectedly went into labor. two weeks early.
carmen had left the place screaming, and, in the process, had also left his things at the restaurant, including his jacket, wallet, keys, the lot — so to be nice you went to drop it off at his place. worried that he might be at the hospital, you texted him.
you: hey, going out for a drink. saw you forgot your stuff at the restaurant so i grabbed it because you’re otw. you home?
carmen: oh shit thanks. i’m home
so there you stood. at his front door, his stuff in hand.
you quickly adjusted your long hair, worried about your appearance. it was weird to show up to carmen’s place in your regular attire — seeing as though your regular attire on a night with your friends was black flare jeans, a tight black long sleeve v-neck that showed off your cleavage — you were concerned that he might be concerned with who he exactly employed. however, his niece was just born… he had more important things to worry about.
so you knocked.
and barely waited.
carmen was barely at the door a few seconds later before you came face to face with the man who constantly let exhaustion ride on his back.
“you good?” you immediately asked, handing over his stuff.
he nodded. “yeah, uh — thanks.”
“you look like you could use a drink,” you laughed. “want to come with?”
he shook his head, the corners of his lips somewhat curving upwards. “nah. day was hectic. you want one? come in — for a drink?”
you smiled. “i don’t want to intrude, especially after the berzatto family excitement of the day.”
“i owe you,” he sighed. “but don’t let me hold you up if your friends are waiting.”
you smiled. “one drink won’t hurt.”
one drink definitely did not hurt.
drink two and three definitely didn’t, either.
how much carmen made you laugh definitely made your stomach hurt, though. in a good way.
“you’re killing me,” you cackled. “who knew quiet carmen berzatto was such a good host.”
“you can call me carmy, y’know,” he spoke, saying his cigarette before pouring you another drink. “everyone else does.”
you shrugged. “you’re pretty professional in the kitchen. didn’t want to impose.”
“i don’t think you could impose a day in your life,” he chuckled. “i think you’re the only one that knows boundaries in that fuckin’ place.”
“says the mysterious one,” you giggled. “the only reason any of us know your nicknames is because richie likes to share your baby stories.”
“speaking of babies…” he took a drag. “thank you for helping sugar out so much. she told me to tell you how much she appreciates it.”
you shrugged. “‘s nothing.”
“nothing?” he scoffed. “you keep her sane. definitely keep me sane.”
“always got your back, chef,” you giggled.
he smiled, and ashed his cigarette once more. his long, thick fingers stretched around the circumference of his glass. one fingertip tapped against the glass and a few droplets of condensation fell to his countertop.
you were twisted around in your seat to face carmen, eyeing his attractive hands. in your peripheral vision, you saw him lift his head to cock it towards you and stare at you. the longing look sent shivers up your spine, but you gazed at him through your long lashes as you waited for his response.
“you do,” he spoke. “always have. we were lucky to find you. i - i was, i mean.”
“more like i was lucky get a call from natalie,” you laughed. “it’s so hard to find a well paying job nowadays.”
“heard,” he rasped. “you happy at the bear?”
“very,” you replied. “staff keeping you happy, chef?”
he chuckled. “when i’m not made to scream, yeah.”
“that’s fair. we’re lucky to have you.”
there was only so many things you could think of to say to carmen before you began to consider that you were imposing. you slapped your hands against your thighs — a implicit signal it was time for you to go. he led you to the door, where he reached out for your coat. you smiled at him, thanked him for the drink, and slid your arms through the jacket as he held it out for you.
you don’t know what caused you to, maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was you — or maybe it was how good carmen smelled — but you glanced up and over your shoulder at the polite man behind you.
you didn’t have anything to say. frankly, you said something last — it was his turn. however, carmen’s sense of societal expectations started and ended with the door to the kitchen. but there, by his front door? basically holding you by the shoulders, and staring back down at you? he had nothing to say.
however… his eyes could share a thousand things about him. more specifically, emotions. carmen’s eyes showed exhaustion, a bit of dehydration, to keep it a buck, but there was so much intensity in those crystal irises. they were a stunning, clear blue… but with the way carmen was gazing down at you, there appeared to be no clear thought in his head.
and he did nothing.
so you could do nothing.
you found yourself disappointed at his actions, or rather — lack thereof.
you simply smiled, and went to turn away. you reached for his door knob, when you felt the slightest brush of calloused fingers against the skin of your wrist. the feeling shocked you, pricking at your nerves, but you didn’t stop until you felt those fingers enclose around the circumference of your wrist.
like they had with the glass, moments ago.
you turned back, letting your long and thick eyelashes ghost over your line of sight. all you could see was a frozen chef, standing tired, but staring back at you.
when his gaze fell to the floor, you stepped closer. he glanced up.
you felt the heat rise to your cheeks as you softly asked, “what’s up, carmy?”
“first time i had someone over.” his parted lips closed so he could swallow, and his eyes drifted between your lips and the floor. the words were right there, on his tongue. they were so close you could feel them, taste them. he replied, “i, um… don’t want it to end, uh — i guess.”
you smiled and turned around in place, barely inches from his face. his breaths were pushing past his lips in small, light puffs that hit the tip of your chin. it was like he was conscious of everything he was emitting; his vibe, where he was looking, even his fucking exhales. he was cautious and frozen and all you wanted was for him to be relaxed, or as close to, as he was moments ago.
“already drank you out of house and home, carmy. what else you got in mind?”
his eyes widened, but his voice stayed level. “what else i got in mind?”
you hummed in agreement with a coy smile on your face. you folded your lip between your teeth and stepped backwards. carmy glanced at your hips and feet hesitantly, shifting his weight slightly. while his eyes were trained on you, his parted lips quivered slightly which told you that there was still some nervousness lingering in him. with every step you took, carmy took one as well. you kept stepping backwards, and carmy kept stepping forwards, until your back was pressed against the wall.
carmy’s lips weren’t slightly quivering anymore. there was no hesitation in his figure when he leaned down slightly and rested a flat palm against the drywall above your head. his breath was hitting you on both cheeks — as if they weren’t hot enough already. inside you were screaming. you were screaming, and screaming, and screaming and all you wanted to do was grab both sides of his face and smash your lips to his. you wanted to, but you wouldn’t. you wanted to see if he would.
“you know,” you spoke, raising your back. your cold palm pressed against his cheek. it was burning — almost as bad as yours. “even though you’re the boss… never seen you actually taste anything.”
“no?” he rasped. the gruffness in his voice pricked at your cheeks and went straight to your core. “and what do you want me to taste, sweetheart?”
you released your grip from his cheek and brought your hand down to your face. with a manicured nail, you tapped the plumpness of your bottom lip. you stared into his eyes — a dare.
“fuck.”
with his free hand, carmen wrapped your hand in his own and pressed it to the middle of his chest. he held it there, pressed against his heart, and surprisingly it was the exact spot you wanted to hold him. you wanted to hear — no, feel his heart that was beating slightly faster than normal. when carmen finally pressed his chapped lips against yours… you saw stars.
the alcohol coursing through your veins made you melt into the man before you. his hand on the wall slid down until he was rubbing the side of your neck, and then gripping the base of your skull. his fingers, his beautiful, skillful fingers threaded through your hair like it was one of his pieces of art and he was creating something. he twisted your strands until he had your head bent back, practically supported by the heavy palm of his hand. the motion made you gasp into his mouth. carmen swallowed it whole. every. last. bit.
“y’taste so fuckin’ sweet,” he moaned against your lips.
you hummed with him. the warmth of his body engulfed your body into his until the moment started and ended with carmen anthony berzatto. you could taste the liquor on his tongue that danced with your own. with every breath he took, bits of smoke would linger between the two of you. it went straight to your head, swallowing your senses whole. you didn’t know if it was the alcohol, the cigarettes, or carmen himself, but you felt like you were swimming.
“this okay, sweetheart?” he asked, pulling away for a second. a thumb of his stroked the skin of your cheek as he stared at you, waiting for feelings of regret from you. “d-do you want me to stop?”
“please don’t stop, carmy,” you gasped, pulling him back into. “you’re perfect.”
you didn’t expect that would make carmen slide his hands down your body and grasp the back of your thighs. his fingertips pressed into your skin, pulling your legs up and around his waist. you squealed against his teeth and couldn’t believe you had found yourself in this situation.
it’s not that carmen wasn’t handsome, no. the man was drop dead gorgeous in a tortured artist way, and you always had a thing for men that looked like they needed a hug but wouldn’t admit it. but… he was your boss.
what could you do about that? it’s not like you could stop now. even if you had told him to stop, got your shit and left — the damage was done. you both had crossed the boundaries, and you were going to reap what you sewed.
in that case… might as well have a little fun with it.
he had placed you on a neighboring table. his large hands gripped the flesh of your thighs and you couldn’t help but whine into his embrace. his tongue glided over your lips and teeth and with your tongue in the messiest way possible and all you could chant in your head was more, more, more.
and that’s when you found yourself pulling at the bottom of his t-shirt.
he stepped back slightly, throwing his shirt over his head. his swollen lips were parted, and his eyes searched your face. you found your chest rising and falling with anticipation, and realized you should’ve been more concerned with how he was dealing with all of this.
“you okay, carmy?” you whispered.
he nodded, letting a few fingertips of his ghost over the skin of your cheek. his crystal eyes glanced down to your lips.
“we can stop, you know,” you whispered again. “it’s okay.”
he nodded again before dipping his head down to the side of your neck. his plump lips left wet kisses on the sensitive skin and you moaned into the open air. you widened the space between your knees, allowing for carmen to wedge himself between your thighs.
“you’re always talking such good care of me, sweetheart, so good to me,” he rasped against your throat, sucking on the skin. “but all i want to do right now is have my fingers inside you. y’gonna let me?”
“yes, carmy,” you whined. “yes please.”
“such a polite girl f’me.” carmy’s mouth was attacking your throat. moans escaped passed your lips like carmy was squeezing them from you, claiming them. his fingers traveled down the front of your clothes and stopped at the button of your jeans. sliding it open, carmen berzatto slipped his perfect hands into your jeans.
“right there, please,” you gasped once his fingers found your bundle of nerves.
his fingers dipped into your core and spread it all over where you needed him most. warmth began to spread through your hips and your knees widened for him. his drew circles different ways until he noticed that when he drew counterclockwise circles, you bit your lip and your eyes appeared to involuntarily flutter shut. you felt carmy smirk against the skin of your neck.
“what made you this wet, baby?” he hummed, sucking at the base of your throat.
“you, carmy,” you whined. “felt it as soon as i saw you when i first walked in. needed you so badly.”
he smirked again. “so bringing my things wasn’t of the purest intentions?”
heat rose to your cheeks with the sensual actions that were taking place below the belt and carmy’s accusation. you grew worried at what he would say if you said no, that you honestly just wanted to help him out… but if carmy wanted to play like that, you could play.
“n-no,” you whined as the pleasure began to spread throughout your whole body.
carmy was holding you so close to him. it was like he was your support — supporting you through such a physically vulnerable moment. your legs were practically shaking at this point, trying to take everything he was giving you and not start sobbing. you were grabbing at any piece of him you, wanting to kiss him — but he wouldn’t let you. fucking bastard.
“good,” he stated, staring you dead in the eyes. your mouth fell open at his response, a pant pushing passed your lips. “i don’t have the purest of intentions when i do this.”
carmen berzatto slid two long, thick fingers inside you ever so slowly. the motion pulled small moans out of you like you were a pathetic mess of a puddle and the sun rose and set with him. you felt his fingertips press against the upper wall inside you, while another finger worked at your clit, and all you could do was hold onto him tighter.
“it feels so good, carmy,” you whined. “i love your fingers so, so much.”
“yeah, baby?” he breathed against your ear. “you wanna cum f’me?”
“faster, please, i will,” you sobbed. you fucking sobbed as the tapping motion inside you hastened. “oh god — oh my fucking god —“
“that’s it, sweetheart? that’s what you needed?”
“yes, yes — fucking — fuck — yes.”
“f-fuck —“ he groaned broken, incoherent phrases against your throat. his breath was hot and heavy on your skin and all you could think about was how good he felt inside of you, and also how badly you wanted all of him inside you. interrupting your thoughts, he spoke, “show me how good it feels, baby. finish all over my fingers f’me.”
that broke you.
that fucking broke you.
it was like a shock of lightning hit you straight in your core and the power from the strike spread throughout your entire body. every muscle of yours went taut as you arched your chest into carmy’s.
with his expert hands, he fucked you through the orgasm. “that’s it, baby. that’s it. keep cumming for me.”
it was like carmen berzatto knew everything to say to make you shatter. you couldn’t even breathe — all you could do was give into the spreading feeling of bliss and hold your breath while it washed over you. it was wave, after wave, after wave of mind-numbing orgasm and carmen held you through all of it.
“pretty girl.”
“i know, baby. you’re such a sweet girl f’me.”
“that’s it, sweetheart. take it.”
once the waves finished hitting you, your chest was rising and falling heavily. carmen peppered light kisses along your neck, being gentle as to your state, but you were having none of it. you reached for his belt.
“greedy.”
you smiled lazily at him. “any objections, chef?”
he smirked at you, letting his fingers ghost over your sensitive core. a shiver ran up and down your spine at the almost painful action. “be careful — or i’ll make you cum again.”
you knew he wasn’t joking. you let out a slight giggle before you dragged the zipper and his boxers down. freeing his cock, you pumped his shaft.
carmy was once dominantly kissing your neck and whispering mean things in your ear, but now he was using the crook of your neck to support his forehead.
“you have such a pretty cock, carmy,” you whispered in his ear. there was something so comforting about being intimate with a man where you both could be vulnerable, and you weren’t sure if you would ever let it go. you want him everywhere he would let you have him. “i don’t know if i want it in my mouth or inside me more.”
he chuckled at that, crooning back into your embrace when you would touch a very sensitive part of him. “dirty girl — you’re so fuckin’ evil.”
you were worried the friction was becoming too much for him, but you didn’t want to raise your hand to your own lips, so you swiped some of the juices from your core and used it to lubricate the skin of carmy’s cock. it was a quick motion — you didn’t think he’d notice, and plus his eyes were most likely closed.
but when he spoke, you froze.
“do-do that again.” his voice was rough with lust. “do that again for me.”
you were hesitant at first, but you decided to make a show of it. you slowly dragged two fingers up the length of your slit and rubbed a very slow circle around the circumference of your clit. you gasped at the sensitivity, slightly jumping at the touch.
“fuck, that’s hot,” he groaned, breath humid on your neck.
you smirked at his response and reached for his cock. your hand slipped along the smooth skin of his cock, drawing a deep groan from carmen. the poor man was so sensitive — almost aching from what giving everything he had to you previously felt like.
“so big, carmy,” you breathed. “so big and pretty.”
“y’know what would be prettier?” he asked, pressing a kiss to your jaw line. “watching you put it inside you. can you do that, baby?
you smiled at him devilishly. carmy’s hands shoved the rest of your jeans down your legs and flung them somewhere in the room. your pussy was aching — dripping for the man before you. the sensitivity had left you, no longer prickling at your nerve endings. all that was left was the want for more — anything carmy had to give you.
“please,” you whined, rubbing the head of his cock against your glistening folds.
“i love when you beg f’me,” he groaned. “such a good fuckin’ girl.”
both of your lines of sight drifted down to the view of your hips. you both watched in awe as you lined carmy up with your entrance as he pushed his hips towards you.
the throws of passion and want for carmy were intense, sure — but so was the want to enjoy this while he could. he pushed in the tip of his cock, groaning slightly as your tight hole encased him. you whines at the barely filled feeling — so empty, needing more. carmy, however? carmy didn’t care. he wanted to feel every push and pull of your muscles between your hips.
carmy kept his eyes turned down at your pussy and you swallowed more and more of him inside you. he gripped the flesh of your waist, fingertips digging into you. your own hands were splayed our flat against the cool countertop of the table — a direct juxtaposition of the boiling feeling that electrified the top of every inch of your skin. you whined as carmy took his time with his thrusts, pulling back every so often when he felt resistance, and then pushing back in ever so slightly, yet slightly farther, each time.
“please, more,” you gasped, folding your lip between your teeth. “i want all of you.”
“baby isn’t patient, huh?” he asked, continuing with his motions. “gotta have it all, when you want it?”
“i can’t be teased right now,” you sobbed. it was pathetic how needy you were, but fucking christ did it turn carmy on.
“this what you want, baby?” he asked, pushing into you deeper.
your walls were squeezing him like he was the only thing that existed to you. the burn at your entrance was something so bittersweet, something so delicious — you didn’t know how you were going to keep control and make this special for him as well, let alone how you weren’t going to cum right then. but you didn’t care — you didn’t have the strength to care.
“yes, carmy — please,” you begged, bucking your hips into him weakly. “fuck — your cock feels so good.”
“yeah, baby?” he pressed into deeper. “so impatient you can’t handle it slow?”
“i want you to fuck me, carm,” you bit with lust dripping from every word. “fuck me — use me however you want — please.”
fuck.
that set him off.
carmy was a patient and low maintenance man, sure, out of necessity and convenience mostly. however, when he had the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, with a dirty mouth to match, talking back to him, and begging him to be selfish?
fuck patience. fuck ease. and fuck being selfless.
carmen’s grip tightened on your waist, and he pushed the last parts of his cock inside you.
it immediately hit you right where you needed him — that soft, sensitive spot so deep that barely anyone before him could dream of reaching. your walls gripped the smooth skin of his cock and you screamed. you fucking wailed when he finally pounded into you painfully, but so fucking sweetly.
“dirty — fucking — girl,” he grunted, thrusting upwards into your pussy.
there was nothing like the sight of carmy finally taking what he wanted. no expression of shame, or guilt, or hesitation on his face — just a man, slightly bent over before you, inside of you, holding you so close to him because, in that moment, you could give him what he wanted — needed. and, in that moment, all he needed was you.
the side of his face was pressed against yours, breathing heavily into your ear. the few groans he let escape his throat were guttural — almost animalistic. they went straight to your core, practically flooding around his cock. your whines of pleasure forced his hips forward and back faster and harder with each motion. balancing your weight and carmy’s with a firm hand of yours behind you on the table, you clamped your free hand on the back of his neck. you twisted a few stray strands of his hair around your fingers, tugging at them. every thrust caused you to pull his hair, him, closer and harder into you.
“laythefuckdown,” he spat, to your surprise.
the command startled you, sure — but it also made you bite your lip in anticipation. he pressed a wet, heavy kiss to your cheek, throwing butterflies in your lower stomach, as you released him. before you could lay down, he stopped you.
“you want to give me what i want, baby?” he whispered against your lips.
you nodded, gazing at him with dark, lust filled eyes.
“then i want your pussy to finish around my cock,” he stated. “think you can do that f’me?”
“y-yeah,” you replied, shakily, but full of trust.
you laid down and carmy regained his footing at the end of the table, keeping his cock pressed firmly inside you as he stood above you. his cock twitched against your most sensitive spot inside you, and you whined at the new angle. he gripped one of your hips firmly, but let his other hand ghost up your glistening lips.
“such a pretty fucking pussy,” he rasped, gazing at it. “takes my cock so well. but right here…”
he pressed his thumb against your clit.
you would’ve jumped if his hand wasn’t keeping you locked to the table.
“this is what i want,” he spat. “so fucking pretty.”
he began rubbing rough, fast circles on your clit. your legs were shaking from the overstimulation, and you thought you could cry from the sensation. your back arched off the table, and your hands struggled to find something to grip — to balance you as carmy tortured you.
but then his cock started working itself back into you again, hitting that spot that needed him so badly.
“think you can cum like this, baby?” he asked, taunting you. “be a good girl for me, yeah?”
“yes — !” you groaned, reaching for the end of the table with one hand. grabbing it, you tried to steady yourself, but it was no use. not with carmy. “fuck — it’s so much — it’s too much carmy —“
“gonna cum for me, sweetheart?”
you threw your head up to stare at the man. he was rocking into you like that was the only thing he knew, fucking you like it was the only thing he wanted, but there was so much focus on his eyes. so much focus on you.
“gonna give me what i want?”
“yes, yes,” you were nodding your head so pathetically, so sweetly for him. tears were practically threatening to spill over the corners of your eyes, but they glistened at him, and only him, and god did it fuck with him. “please, carmy — let me cum for you.”
“do it,” he ordered. “fuck, baby — cum for me.”
your hips were bucking against his pelvis and his hand, too erratic for him to be precise like he wanted to. you were chasing his fingertips, chasing the orgasm that even in his selfish state he was so generous to give. whines left your throat involuntarily as the intensity in your lower abdomen grew, and grew, and grew. your eyes were screwed shut as you pushed yourself to your elbows, holding yourself up as you couldn’t help but curl into yourself. carmen may have been looking at you, or something else — it didn’t matter. all you saw was the black of your eyelids, until is was white.
white. pure white.
your finger nails dug into the meat of your palms as the heat spread from your womb to the entirety of your body. every nerve ending and hair rose to the highest point of height they could, and you held your breath. the feeling of immense pleasured you washed over you — wave after wave, after wave, after wave. it hit you, it crashed into you, it fucking drowned you — it swallowed you whole until you were gasping for air. your orgasm was violent — practically mine splitting. you were shaking. you were sensitive beyond belief, beyond repair — and the prickling feeling wouldn’t stop. you were gasping for air as you looked down, only to find carmy’s hand still working between your thigh.
still rubbing those fucking circles.
“c-carmy,” you sputtered, tears wet in the corner of your eye. “please — i c-can’t.”
“shhh,” he whispered. “just keep cumming, baby. just keep cumming for me.”
your chest split open at that, throwing you back against the table top. shivers went up and down your spine as you took carmy’s torture.
“that’s it, baby. that’s it.”
his words were music to your ears as you screamed for him.
“ohh, fucking shit — that’s it —“ he hissed. “just like that. take it all for me — oh, fuck.”
you were dazed and confused on carmy’s table, basically seeing stars. absolutely useless, fucked out beyond words. you felt the weight and warmth of carmy’s body lean over, and rest against yours, as his hips sloppily rocked into you.
you wrapped your legs around the middle of carmy’s back, locking him in place. one hand went to clamp on the back of his head, and the other pressed against the side of his cheek.
against his lips, you whispered, “cum for me, carmy, please. i want to feel you inside of me.”
“good — fucking —“ he grunted, pressing his lips to yours in a farm, hard kiss as he shook. carmy’s tongue shoved itself into your mouth, and down your throat. carmy was everywhere — so deep in every part of you. you hummed with each moan of his you swallowed, rocking your hips against his and rocking him through his orgasm. gasps left his lips as he gripped any part of you he could, doing anything he could to hold onto you and keep you in place.
“holy f-fucking shit,” he gasped against your cheek, pressing kisses to your cheek and the length of your neck. “that — that was — it was so —“
“i know,” you spoke, giggling slightly.
carmy laid his head against your collarbone and you weaved his wet curls around your fingers. he rested fully against you, completely relaxed.
“fuck your friends,” he mumbled. “stay here tonight — as long as, um — you want to, that is.”
your giggle hummed in your chest. carmy’s confidence leaving him in the middle of the sentence surprised you slightly, but not enough to leave you unamused. “‘m not imposin’?”
he chuckled at that, and pulled you up from the table and into his arms. "fuck off."
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lmk what you think :) love yall -L
#carmy smut#carmy berzatto#carmy#carmen#carmen berzatto#carm berzatto#carm smut#carmen smut#the bear#bear#carmy bear berzatto#carmy the bear#carmy x you#carmy x reader#carmen x reader#carmen x you#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x you
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Condescending lieutenant Price bending you over and growling in your ear abt how you should be home (at his house he means) keeping the bed warm, house clean, etc. waiting for him to come home and fuck you stupid, all while he gets more of an ego boost each time you whimper his name knowing it’ll take a few good fucks for you to finally cave and admit you like the sound of that
i was originally thinking of an AU where you're a reporter that's on the ground covering the war/battle/whatever's currently going on and Lieutenant Price keeps seeing you hustling around, lugging these heavy cameras and working yourself to the bone and it slowly starts to tick him off because he thinks you'd be far better suited to keeping his bed warm until he comes home :\\ such a waste that you're out here, exhausted and dishevelled from working nonstop.
the first time you get to talk to him, hoping to get some good soundbites for your article, you're shocked and outraged when he hooks a knuckle under your chin to tilt your head up and murmurs that if you've got anyone back home, they sure as shit aren't doing their job well enough if you keep trying to find excitement like this. and you're even more pissed off when all of your yelling does nothing other than elicit an amused smirk from him.
#ceil writing#cod mw2#cod x reader#captain price#price x you#price x reader#price/reader#captain john price#john price#cod price
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Osamu feeds you when you don't eat
osamu miya x gn!reader | fluff | i'm going back to 505 words
cw: reader doesn't have an apetite/doesn't eat much, samu is a lil insistent you eat
a/n: this started as haji and godzilla turned samu and shrek. does shrek even bully peasants in the sequel
It’s kind of corny how much Osamu likes Shrek. He stores DVD copies of the entire franchise in the TV stand even though he hasn’t owned a DVD player since 2012. Once, Netflix removed the Shrek holiday special from their service- the one he never even watched- and his comedic fit of outrage had left him huddled on the ground, heartbroken. So it’s only natural that once again, you sit in front of the TV as the opening to, in his words, the unchallenged supreme reigning cinematic masterpiece that is Shrek 2 plays its soundtrack.
“Pause it!” yells Osamu from the kitchen.
“You know it by heart!”
“I know,” Osamu appears beside you, holding two bowls. “But I need the full experience.”
You take a moment to see what he’s made. Oyakodon- a warm, soupy broth of chicken and eggs served over white rice. It looks good, it really does, but you don’t have much of an appetite and you know you probably won’t eat it. Osamu places it in your hands anyway and you don’t have the heart to tell him no, not after he spent an hour in the kitchen for you. “Thank you, 'Samu.”
You’re halfway through the movie when Osamu lifts the bowl from your hands and shifts you into his lap. You don’t notice, not really, because Shrek is in the middle of abusing another peasant and it’s just so perfectly ridiculous you can’t help but be entranced. So you don’t think twice when Osamu whispers a soft open by your ear and you hardly process it when you swallow something down. He does it again and again and again, until you look up and Osamu’s smug, triumphant, holding up another spoonful.
“‘Samu!” You push against his chest and he falls back a little. “I can feed myself, you know.”
“Didn’t look like it.”
“I wasn’t hungry!”
“Ya ate half th’ bowl!”
“You tricked me! Those bites don’t count.”
Osamu laughs. It’s loud and happy and rings in the air- rings over even Shrek’s roars. He grins at you again. “Bite?”
You purse your lips. “No.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re being annoying!”
He swirls the spoon in the air. “Here comes th’ airplane!”
“No, 'Samu!” You beat at him and bury your face into his chest. He laughs, and you hear the clink of porcelain on the coffee table before his arms wrap around you too.
“Ya just hadn’t eaten all day.” Softer this time.
“I know.”
“Need the protein to get big an’ strong!”
“Mhm.”
“So you’ll take another bite?”
You nuzzle further into him, hiding your face. “No.” Silence for a moment. “Maybe.”
Osamu smirks. “It’s really good, ya know.”
You sigh, releasing yourself from his chest. You reach for the spoon and let the rice fall onto your tongue. The chicken is tender, the eggs delicate, and the subtlety of scallions paired with the salty broth create a comforting taste in your mouth. “It is good, ‘Samu.” You mean it.
“I am an amazing chef.” It’s true.
“... Bite?”
masterlist
#osamu miya#miya osamu#osamu x reader#osamu fluff#haikyuu#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader#hq x reader#haikyuu fluff#hq fluff#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu headcanons#inarizaki#inarizaki fluff#inarizaki x reader
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DPXDC prompt. Wes Weston in Metropolis.
Lois Lane is a talented reporter and is proud of it. Her name has long been known for her scandalous investigations and private interviews with Superman. Without exaggeration, she could call herself an extremely valuable worker of the Daily Planet.
So when she was assigned to teach the new unexperienced intern, who was completely unimpressed by her skills, Lois was more than unhappy. But the new guy was perfectly able to find common ground with people and efficiently carried out assignments, so she finally warmed up and even decided to do take him on an interview with members of the Justice League for a practice.
When they entered the room heroes were a little tense. Lois let herself be a little smug, realizing that they were used to her presence and the new man wasn’t seen as credible.
She turned to the intern to tell him something inspiring before they start to make him feel less anxious about work with such well-known personalities. And she cut herself short. The red-haired man's face expressed a strange mischievous satisfaction.
"Long time no see, Phantom. Or, should I say, Fenton."
One of the new members of the League quickly hid behind Batman and swore.
"Who the hell let Weston in here?!"
Within seconds, the conference room turned into Tom and Jerry’s film set.
"I’ve wasted the best years of my life on you, asshole! Get back on the ground and let’s talk man to man, Fenton!"
"Help!"
"I know where you live, you can’t hide from me! So listen here, you.."
"Get that damn stalker away from me!"
~~~~~~
Only at the end of the working day Miss Lane realize that Weston did not take a single photo or note during the entire evening. Wes doesn't respond to her outrage and says he's already taken care of it.
The next day, Phantom himself arrived at their office and immediately headed to Weston.
Danny: I brought a thumb drive with photos, "Mr. Jameson". May now Dobby be free?
Wes: Until next Tuesday. Paulina ordered me to drag you to school reunion.
Danny: What? Hell no, Valerie will be there. I'm not looking for death.
Wes: Not my problem, I’m still mad at you. Can't believe the photographer at the press conference where your identity was revealed was...who he was again? Oh, right, not me. Such a betrayal.
Danny: Come on, Wes, you were on vacation at this time.
Wes: Get out of here.
Danny: How to get you to forgive me? I swear on my life you’ll be the photographer at the wedding, okey?
Wes: The guarantee is so-so.
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My Pretty Little Thief
Thank you @wallachianblood for this request! The idea and prompts were so cute, and I had way too much fun with it 😊🔥 I hope you enjoy it!
Pairings: Ace x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 2004
Ao3 Link
| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |
Summary: Ace knows where he left his hat. But when it's not there, he hunts it down, only to discover the culprit. How can he convince the thief to return his precious hat?
Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Swearing, Smut, Established Relationship, Nipple Play, Cunnilingus, Penis in Vagina Sex, Unprotected Sex, (Wrap it up y'all), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Just a bit of, Rough Sex, Temperature Play, Playful Sex, Teasing, Kind of Mention of Public Sex, (Ace just wants people to hear), Creampie, Maybe tiny Dacryphilia? (you have one tear that he thinks is "cute"), Pet Names, Fluff and Smut
A/N: I adore this man!! This one just feels super sweet and playful to me. Enjoy!
“I swore I hung it up here,” Ace muttered to himself as he scratched his head, holding up a towel around his waist.
He recalled taking off his hat, hanging it on the door, and heading into the showers.
Narrowing his eyes at the empty hook, he yawned before heading to his quarters.
I know I didn’t leave it in here…
His room was a bit of a mess, and Ace sucked his teeth at the sight of the clothes on the floor.
He knew it couldn’t be down there, but he had to check, annoyance building the longer his hat wasn’t in sight.
Keeping one hand on his towel, Ace got to his knees, leaning down to check under his bed.
“Ahem.”
Ace tensed, flipping around to see his door close, but his eyes were only on you.
You.
“Bam, got ya,” you said, mocking his voice as you pointed finger guns his way. You brought a finger to your lips, blowing imaginary smoke his way.
Ace’s eyes raked over your bare skin, loving the way your breathing hitched when he watched you. All you wore were cowboy boots, a belt around your waist, and…
“That’s my hat,” Ace teased, just a hint of threat in his words. He sat on the ground, leaning his back against the side of the bed.
“Are you sure? I think it looks better on me.”
“Oh,” he asked with a laugh, shaking his head at you. “Why don’t you come a little closer, and I’ll take a look?”
You bounced on your toes for a moment, giving him the cutest fucking smile before shaking your head.
“How do I know I can trust you?”
“Trust me,” Ace questioned, mock outrage given away by his shit eating grin. “You’re the thief. Guess I’ll have to take it back from you myself.”
He loved the look in your eyes when you watched him stand, leaving the towel on the floor. The way your eyes widened every time his cock sprang loose, as if you could never get enough of him.
You held your finger guns out to ward him off, but he just grabbed your wrists, leaning down to kiss your fingers.
“Bam,” you breathed, shooting a fake bullet against his lips.
“Oh no, you got me!”
Ace cried out, falling to his knees as you giggled, his warm hands sliding up and down on your thighs.
“Looks like I’ll have to take you down to get what’s mine.”
Your laughter turned into a gasp as he pushed your back against the door.
He wrapped one hand into the belt at your waist, holding you firm, then spread your thighs with the other.
“My hat does look pretty good on you from down here, sugar. But I’m still gonna take it from you.”
Your reply was cut short by the press of warm lips against your core, his tongue dipping into your wet folds so fast you felt dizzy.
You felt him chuckle against your skin as you wobbled, and he gripped your belt harder, forcing your hips where he wanted them.
“Such a brazen thief, I wonder what kind of punishment you deserve.”
He watched you moan and writhe, pressing yourself up against the door.
“Who knew criminals could taste this sweet?”
He swirled his tongue around your clit before sucking it between his teeth. He lifted one of your legs over his shoulder as he shoved his tongue into you as deep as he could go.
“F-Fuck, Ace…”
“Oh, is my little villain already sorry? Ready to give me what’s mine?”
A cute whimper left your throat, but all you did was shake your head.
He grinned, then sucked your clit back into his mouth. Then he made his tongue warm, and warmer, and hot, until you yelped, trying to pull away from him. He stopped the heat, but he didn’t let you escape, yanking on that belt while you squirmed.
“Can’t take the heat…”
Ace teased you, pulling back to kiss your thighs. He looked up at your pretty face, your skin all flushed for him.
He stood, pressing you against the door, his cock twitching as it traced against your skin.
“You wanted to be a cowgirl, huh, baby?”
He grabbed your hands again, kissing them while you caught your breath.
Pulling one hand away, you pointed your finger at his heart with another breathy ‘bam.’
Ace let out a surprised, and joyful laugh. You were always so fun, so beautiful, so free. And you always seemed to want him.
He lifted you up, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, twisting your fingers into his still damp hair.
He had planned on taking you to the bed, but when your wet cunt rubbed along his cock, he lost all rational thought, head leaning forward to moan in your ear.
Your back hit the door again, and you felt the wood groan from the weight.
“Wait–”
Your eyes rolled back as he rubbed his length along your clit, covering himself in your need for him.
“Ace…”
His head was buried in your neck, breathing in your scent, and the sound of his name on your lips was everything.
He lined himself up, holding you against the door. Slowly pushing into your tight, wet pussy, he moaned softly as your body clenched around his with every inch.
“Ace,” you moaned, this time your voice was high and strained as you fought to stay quiet against the door.
“My pretty little thief,” he rasped in your ear, thrusting so fucking slowly into you.
There was no better feeling than sinking himself into you, hearing your soft breaths, feeling your frantic heart.
The aching pressure building in you made you shake, and you were clawing at his back as you tried to stay up, and stay quiet.
“Please,” you stuttered, moaning again as he tilted his hips up into you.
“Alright, cowgirl.”
Ace finally took you away from the door, fingers digging into your ass as he slammed you onto him a few times before walking to the bed.
You had already lost. The hat was about to fall off your head from the way you twitched for him.
You gasped as he climbed onto the mattress, standing on the edge as he turned. With his back to the bed, your eyes widened at his mischievous smile.
“Wait, Ace, don—“
“Hang on to my hat, gorgeous.”
“No!”
You grabbed his hat at the last second, hand pressing it onto your head as he let himself fall backwards onto the bed.
He laughed as he kept a firm grip on your hips, luckily keeping you in place as you fell.
But even with his effort to keep your body still on his, the slam onto the mattress made you both cry out.
You were reeling from the force of his cock, hitting so deep as you bounced onto the bed.
“Ace!”
You slapped his chest, still panting, trying to breathe.
He couldn’t help the laughter that burst out of him at your blown out eyes, your outrage diminished by the desperate way your mouth hung open.
“Go on then, cowgirl. Take me for a ride.”
You let out what had to be a growl, pressing your hands down on his chest as you tried to fuck yourself onto his thick cock.
With all that he’d already done to you, your body was limp and shaking. You rolled your hips, running your fingers along the muscles of his stomach, his chest, playing lightly with his nipples until he let out a breathy laugh.
You gained some leverage, digging your boots into the bed as you started to lift off of him until just the tip of his cock was sunk into you.
Then you dropped down on him, your aching cunt sucking him in, the intense heat of his body filling you up.
“Your cock feels so good, Ace. I need you inside me everyday, baby.”
Needy whimpers left his throat, until your legs turned to jello, and you couldn’t keep up the pace.
“My pretty little cowgirl can’t ride? Do you want me to show you how, darlin’?”
“Mmhm,” you moaned, eyes heavy lidded as you nodded.
“Ya gonna give me my hat back if I make you scream on my cock, princess?”
“Fuck, please, Ace.”
He thrust up into you abruptly, reaching a hand up to touch your beautiful face. He brushed away a cute little tear as you pressed your face against his warm hand.
“That didn’t sound like a yes. Guess I’d better not make deals with thieves.”
He stopped every movement, your own movement falling limp without his support.
“Wait, yes, please! Please make me come on your cock, I swear I’ll give your hat back.”
He rubbed his thumb over your drooling lips, smiling when you didn’t hesitate to suck it into your mouth.
“There’s my pretty baby. Hold on tight.”
You gripped his chest again as he dug his heels into the mattress. He held the belt tight on your waist, using it to fuck up into you harder and faster than you were expecting so soon, and you let out a small, but filthy scream.
He kept thrusting as he laughed, so fucking pleased to watch you unravel for him.
“Already screamin’ for me, huh, baby? Looks like I get my hat back now.”
He sat up, pressing your bodies together as he rocked into you on his lap.
Your faces were so close, breaths mixing as he teased raspy words in your ear.
“You look really good getting fucked in my hat, darlin’. You like getting in trouble, don’t ya?”
All you could could was moan, high and desperate. He could tell you were so close to that edge, and he needed it, needed you.
“You want me, baby?”
His question had you clenching on him harder, and he moaned while you answered.
“I want you so bad, Ace. I want you to fill me up. Fuck, please come inside me, I need you.”
His fingers dug into your thighs, body fighting not to give into your words that very second.
“Give me my hat back,” he said in a growl, watching your body shiver at his demand. With shaky hands, you lifted his hat up, your hair so adorably mussed, then set it on his head while he kept gently pushing into you.
“Good girl.”
He flipped you onto your back, wasting no time. He pressed your thighs toward your shoulders, hunting for that spot that makes you melt.
You came almost instantly, knuckles shoved between your teeth as you tried, and failed, not to scream.
Ace didn’t care if anyone heard. He loved that everyone knew how much you wanted him, loved hearing you scream his name.
He would have told you not to hide it now, but the sight of your sweet body, writhing underneath him, was too much.
“Fuuckk... Coming, princess.”
“Ace!”
He used the belt like a handle again, shoving as deep inside you as he could.
You milked his cock of every fucking drop, his come filling you, a wave of liquid heat inside you.
You were limp as he pressed slow kisses on your chest and face. Finally, you made little whimpers and squirmed as he pulled out of you. His eyes almost rolled back at the sight of his come spilling out of your messy little cunt.
“How’s my pretty hat thief?”
You hummed, a contented smile on your lips making him want to do this everyday. To make you feel good everyday.
“I think you killed me,” you laughed, voice weak as you reached your hand up to touch his cheek.
“I could never kill my little criminal,” he teased, kissing your lips so softly as his eyes melted into yours.
“I love you too much.”
You pinched his cheek, face flushing as you grinned, the sight of you stopping his breath for a moment.
“I love you too, Ace.”
Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!
a/n: I would like to take him home and protect him from the world, pretty please??
Tag List: @shewrites02
| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |
#portgas d ace smut#portgas d ace x reader#one piece smut#reader Insert#fem!reader#smut#mine#one piece x reader#fic requests#inbox#x reader#turtletaub fics#one piece fanfiction#ace x reader
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Just a taste
Virgin! Eddie x reader
Summary: Eddie learns just how sensitive nipples can be
Warnings: Smut (18+), grinding, making out, nipple play (I guess that's what you'd call it?), cumming in pants
Word count: 1.8k
a/n: This idea came to me last night and I had to write it, it is purely self indulgent
You and Eddie had been dating for a couple of months now and it had been wonderful. Eddie was sweet and kind but also outrageous and funny. You were completely enamoured by him and were sure he was your person.
You’d both slowly opened up to each other in those few months, about intense things and little things and - in the middle of a makeout session on your 3rd date - Eddie had, quite suddenly, opened up to you about being a virgin.
He’d looked at you like he was surprised he’d even said it, like being a virgin was a shock to him. The look on his face had made you completely melt, cupping his face gently and pressing a kiss to his nose you assured him that that was okay, you liked spending time with him even if you didn’t have sex.
“How much of a virgin are we talking here…?” you’d asked cautiously. Trying your best to keep your voice indifferent about the situation, just trying to gauge the amount of experience he had, if any.
“I’ve, ah, I’ve kissed and like made out with people before,” he offered the statement as if it was a question, like he was really asking you if he should have done more, if you think he's weird for not and - most importantly- if you want to run away right about now.
But you hadn’t run away. Instead you’d just offered him a warm smile, nodding gently.
“Okay,” you’d whispered, “so what we’re doing right now, it’s okay?”
“Yeah,” he’d breathed with a slight laugh, “it’s definitely okay.”
After that you both made out until your lips were swollen and raw, both rutting against each other like desperate teenagers, but you didn’t mind one bit because Eddie did make you feel like some lovesick teenager.
Since then you’d talked to him and reassured him more that it was completely okay that he wasn’t as experienced, that you were happy to go at his pace and more than happy to teach him anything he wanted to know or try when he was ready.
That brings you to today.
You’re both on his bed, making out slowly as the late afternoon sun coats his room in an orange glow. Eddie sitting with his back against the wall with you sitting comfortably on his lap, one hand tangled in his unruly, brown hair, the other giving you purchase on his chest as you grind against him. Both of Eddie’s hands are gripping the plush of your hips and ass tightly to keep himself grounded, every now and again pulling you against him to help you grind against his aching hard on.
One of Eddie’s hands glides up past your waist, stopping just shy of your boobs before he breaks the kiss, panting heavily.
“Can I touch you?” he asks, lust blown eyes pleading at you so cutely.
“Of course baby, you can touch me wherever you want,” you whisper in his ear, loving the way it makes him shiver underneath you.
“H-here?” he asks, as he moves his hand up slightly, half cupping the underside of your boobs.
“Please,” you respond sweetly.
Eddie groans as he cups them with both hands. He’s been wanting to do this for so long, being even more distracted by them all afternoon when he realised you weren't wearing a bra. And having to try and not cum in his jeans just before, when he saw how hard your nipples were getting while making out with him.
You let out a soft, content sigh as he experimentally gives them a soft squeeze, looking up at you to gauge your reaction.
“That’s it baby,” you coo, “you can go a bit harder.”
Eddie’s eyes flick down to your boobs as he starts to knead the soft flesh between his fingers, mouth open slightly as he looks at them with awe, before looking back up at you.
“Yeah, that’s good,” you say with a smile, causing Eddie to smile too.
“Use your thumbs to play with my nipples a little bit babe,” you instruct gently, Eddie following your orders straight away, gently rubbing against the small pebbles on your chest, wetting his lips as he does, eyes completely trained to them now.
You let out a soft moan as his thumbs move in small slow circles against them.
“That’s it baby, just like that,” you praise him, not missing how his dick twitches against you at your words.
You start to grind against him again subconsciously, the pleasure from your nipples growing, making you needy. You’re desperate to feel more of him so you chance in asking him if he’d be okay with that.
“Would you like me to take my shirt off baby or is this okay?” you ask gently, hoping he knows it’s completely fine if he’s not ready.
He swallows and nods while looking up at you, scared his voice would come out too eager and excited.
You smile at him, quickly taking your shirt off and tossing it on the floor next to the bed.
Eddie's eyes go wide with lust and awe as he stares at your naked breasts, mouth practically salivating at the sight. When he doesnt cup them again after a second you gently find his hands, slowly bringing them back up to your chest, mewling as you squeeze your boobs through his hands.
Eddie lets out a shaky moan as he feels your skin bare against him for the first time. He can't get over how soft and warm you feel. He goes back to rubbing and flicking your nipples softly with his thumbs before experimentally pinching one between his thumb and forefinger.
“Fuck, Eddie,” you moan out while grinding harder against him. Heat blooming in your core as he starts to play with your tits rougher.
Without warning he surges forward, tongue darting out to lick a long, flat stripe against one of your nipples. You let out a surprised moan at the action, fingers tugging at his hair tightly and head tilting back before snapping down to look at him. He has a smirk plastered on his face, no doubt pleased with your reaction before repeating the action, maintaining eye contact with you.
He continues that before switching, doing the same to your other nipple.
“Please suck on them Eddie,” you beg.
He doesn't have to be told twice, immediately taking one of your nipples in his mouth and giving it a soft suck while pinching the other one. Increasing in pressure when you moan loudly and continue to grind against him.
He starts to grow more confident; sucking, licking, pinching and rolling your nipples. You start to feel that familiar heat grow between your legs, your clit catching deliciously against your painties and his boner through his jeans. Your oversensitive nipples hurdling you quickly towards your orgasm.
You know you should let Eddie know how close he’s getting you, not wanting to overwhelm him by suddenly cumming in his lap.
“Fuck Eddie, if you keep doing that ‘m gonna cum,” you moan out breathlessly.
Eddie stops sucking on your nipples at that, still cupping your breasts as he looks up at you.
“Don’t do that,” he whispers, face confused and lips pouty, “you don’t have to over exaggerate or fake it because of me.”
Your heart melts at his words as you take his face in your hands. You hate that you’ve offended him but god he looks so cute right now.
“oh baby boy,” you coo softly, thumbs stroking his cheeks, “I’m not I promise. I just have like really, really sensitive nipples. I can cum from basically only having them played with” you explain softly.
“Wait,” Eddie says like you’ve just altered the course of his whole life completely, “that’s a thing?” he almost shouts.
You giggle fondly at his reaction.
“Yeah, but it’s not like, super common” you reply with a shrug.
Eddie can’t believe what he’s hearing. Why did no one tell him nipples could be that sensitive? If he wasn’t already super fucked out and getting embarrassingly close just from grinding and playing with your tits he definitely is now. He’s determined to see for himself, and slightly to try and see if it actually is real, still not quite believing you.
“Can I- can I try it?” He asks sheepishly, averting your gaze “to make you cum like that?”
“I would love nothing more,” you reply, and although you are trying to be sweet and do this for him you'd be lying if you said you didn’t absolutely need to feel his soft, plump lips against you again.
Eddie eagerly goes back to playing with your nipples, moaning and whimpering around them as he feels your sopping pussy making his jeans wet as you grind against him harder and faster than before. Shamelessly chasing your high as you moan and whimper his name, it’s the hottest thing Eddie has ever heard.
You feel your orgasm build up again moaning as Eddie gives your nipple a particularly hard suck as he pulls the other one. Eddie is right there with you, seeing you so desperate like this, knowing he’s (hopefully) about to make you cum is too much for the poor boy to handle, his dick aching and leaking in his jeans.
He lets out a particularly loud whine as your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him close to you as your legs start to shake.
“Eddie,” you cry urgently, “you’re gonna make me cum baby, shit-”
Your orgasm washes over you, as you moan and mewl and squirm all over Eddie’s lap clinging to him. It feels so good to finally have him make you cum.
Eddie’s mouth lets go of your nipple with a loud pop. The combination of you grinding against him, moaning out his name like it’s the only word you know, your perfect nipples in his mouth, your fingers tugging at his hair and especially cumming all over him all become too much.
He buries his face between your breasts, wrapping his arms around you to hold you close as he coats the inside of his boxers and jeans in his own cum, hips thrusting up to meet yours as you both rut against each other.
You both pant and cling to each other for a second, coming down from your respective highs.
After Eddie’s brain starts to clear he pulls back from you, letting his head fall back against the wall with a thud, eyes still closed and panting lightly.
“Did you just-?” you start to ask. Being cut off by Eddie humming a quick mmhm, you can see his cheeks are flushed as he keeps his eyes shut, no doubt embarrassed about cuming.
“Fuck thats so hot,” you gasp, pulling him in for a heated kiss. It takes him a second to return the kiss but he does with enthusiasm.
He breaks the kiss, searching your eyes as he asks “you don’t… think it’s like weird or something?”
“Of course not Eds, I think that was one of the hottest things ever,” you assure him. He just smiles at you, pulling you back in for another kiss.
Tagging some people who might be interested : @usedtobecooler @andvys @wroteclassicaly @bimbobaggins69 @hammity-hammer @littledemondani @justmeinadaze @translatemunson @prettyboyeddiemunson @ilovecupcakesandtea @wanturvideo @parkermunson @pxrxcxa @chainsawmunson
#eddie munson#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson x you#eddie munson fluff
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