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cinnamorollcrybaby · 2 months ago

Text

Doting

Tags: jjk men as dads, tooth-rotting fluff, comfort drabbles

Synopsis: How the JJK men treat you while pregnant (spoiler warning- they dote on you.)

An: This is my formal apology for writing Nanami angst on the “Baby’s first words” post 😔 it will never happen again (can we stop with the death threats now?)

SATORU • SUGURU • TOJI • SUKUNA • NANAMI

SATORU

Oh, your loving husband is all over you while you’re pregnant. He genuinely has such a cute fascination with all the changes your body is going through. He seriously thinks you’re so strong for carrying his heir.

He loves rubbing your bump. In fact, he will always be touching it in some form or fashion while you two are together. When he’s away on missions, he has you send him pictures and updates on your pregnancy as if anything major has changed in a couple of days.

You best believe he is ready to indulge you on your every craving, no matter how strange. It’s three a.m and you’re crying because you need that specific brand of chicken wings and a can of whip cream? He’s heading to the store immediately to fetch whatever you tell him to.

He genuinely worries about being a good dad. Many nights he lays his head on your bump and talks to you about how teaching didn’t come naturally to him. He wasn’t born knowing how to meet people where they’re at. He use to expect people to be able to meet him on his level. He worries that he may inadvertently put a lot of pressure on his kid, and that’s the last thing he wants due to how he was raised. He just wants his kid to be a kid.

He’s the best, most loving and compassionate dad to your baby, more than you could ever hope for. Even if teaching didn’t come to him naturally, being a father did.

SUGURU

He’s such a “sit down and let me do it for you” while you’re pregnant. He cooks, cleans, works, and tends to you completely throughout your pregnancy.

Suguru gets hyper fixated on your health during pregnancy. He only feeds you the yummiest and healthiest foods while you’re pregnant. He encourages for you to sit on the yoga ball and do (very) light exercises. He just wants the best for you and his baby.

Whenever I said he tends to you, I genuinely mean he tends to you. He’ll gently brush your hair at night time, rub your back when your belly is becoming heavy to carry around, serve your breakfast, lunch, and dinner in bed, carries around emesis bags and breath mints for if you get morning sickness while you two are out.

This man is the king of enforcing your boundaries to people when they don’t listen. That really annoying family member that insists on being there for the birth even though you’ve already explained to them that you want this to be an experience for just you and Geto? Yeah, he’s made it very clear to them that they will not be at the birth if they want to be in your kid’s life.

He is absolutely not afraid to hurt feelings if it means his wife and future child are safe and cared for. He really don’t give a fuck who anyone else is. You and his child are first priority.

TOJI

Toji is definitely the type to express his love and devotion for you in other ways than the most conventional methods.

He is so incredibly gentle while you’re pregnant. He doesn’t rile you up as much or play fight with you anymore. He constantly reminds himself that you’re carrying another life inside you and that you have enough on your plate.

This man… whew does he love seeing you pregnant. Toji’s the type of man to feel so feral when he looks at you heavily pregnant with his kid.

He adores your body. He’ll rub lotion all over you and oils to help your skin accommodate to the stretch of carrying a kid. He massages your body and absolutely worships it while he’s rubbing the lotion and oil on you.

Your breasts are sore? He’ll gently massage them until they feel better. Your back hurts? He’d be the type to lift your bump up and take the weight off you for as long as you ask him to so you can feel relaxed for a few minutes.

And look this is probably TMI but like, if you got a clogged milk duct due to breastfeeding, Toji would unfortunately be the type of man to fix that issue with his mouth. i’m sorry but he would.

Final thing is, you better believe that he doesn’t allow anyone to get too close to you. He is so unbelievably protective over you while you’re pregnant. If he could, he’d lock you up at home to prevent anyone from getting close to you.

SUKUNA

On the outside, he acts very nonchalant and unbothered by your pregnancy. On the inside, he is constantly plagued by the thought that your body may not be able to carry his heir. The thought of losing you or his child haunts him.

He will secretly observe and take notes on your body and how it is changing. If he catches you expressing any sort of short windedness, he will immediately send you off to bed rest. Though, you’re usually able to convince him to take you off of it by the next day.

The only servant he trusts to tend to you is Uraume. No one else in his court is allowed to be anywhere near you unless he gives specific instructions. Still, he hates leaving you in the care of Uraume. He trusts them, but he wants to be the one to take care of you.

He loves holding your body close to him at night. All four arms are wrapped around you and holding you closely. Since he doesn’t need much sleep, he will stay awake rubbing on your tummy all night long. One time, he felt the baby moving in your stomach while you were asleep. He was so intrigued that he woke you up and told you to “make them do it again”.

Now, he will randomly approach you at any given time while you’re heavily pregnant and hold his hand out so he can feel his baby moving around inside of you. It soothes his worry.

During birth, Sukuna was a complete mess. The amount of blood lost during birth fucking terrified him. He was panicking and yelling at anyone to do something to save you, even while everyone was assuring him that you’re okay and this was natural.

After 9 long excruciating months of extreme worry and constant fear, he finally feels peace when he’s cradling a newborn in his arm and a sleeping wife in the other arm. All of his hard work to protect you paid off he thinks.

NANAMI

Oh, to be pregnant by the king of domestic love himself.

Nanami is the type of man to immediately start working on a nursery for you as soon as you reveal to him that you’re pregnant. He immediately changes the guest bedroom into a nursery that you design for your little baby.

He reads up on all the parenting books and articles. He’s constantly compiling things to either do or to not do during pregnancy and even while raising a kid.

Like Geto, he tends to your every need. He is a total house husband all while working 40 hours a week. When he’s at work, he is constantly calling and texting you to make sure that you’re okay and taking care of yourself, but let’s be fr he literally did everything for you before he even left for work (meal prepped for you, set out your clothes for you, put out all your self care items in case you want to bathe).

When you express concerns of your body getting bigger to him, he does everything in his power to show you that he loves and respects your body for creating life. He literally cherishes and worships your body for hours if you let him.

Like Toji, Nanami is protective over you. He constantly has an arm around you if you two are in public, and he watches everyone who dares to get close to you like a hawk. If he gets a bad vibe about anyone, he’s immediately stepping in front of you and taking over the conversation.

Nanami is the best partner to have during birth. His reading of articles during your pregnancy really paid off. He is supportive without being overbearing. He listens to your needs and tends to you without question. Constant praise and encouragement while you’re giving birth. The moment he gets to snuggle with you and the baby is the moment he realizes that he cultivated the life of his dreams. He has the family he always wanted.

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ikarakie · 2 years ago

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after eddie introduces a demogorgon to one of his hellfire campaigns, the kids get a little squirmy. they're nervously looking at each other and aren't engaging as excitedly as they usually do. when he calls time, he watches dustin rummage through his backpack and produce a walkie talkie.

he watches, a bit dumbfounded, as the kid demands a 'check-in'. all at once, multiple different voices come over the channel. stating a name and then saying 'safe.' ("nancy, safe." "robin, safe." "max, safe.")

"steve?" dustin demands. there's only static. "steve!" a little more frantic this time.

"he left to pick you up." a female voice replies, "he's probably fine. you'll see him soon."

none of the kids look particularly pleased, and pack up hastily. eddie and the other hellfire members all share confused glances. he, more morbidly curious than anything else, follows the little sheep as they hurry out of the school.

dustin is fucking restless as they all stand in the empty parking lot. he won't stay still and none of them are answering any of eddie's questions. and he only gets more confused when a brown beemer pulls in, windows down and playing depeche mode through the speakers. dustin goes to sprint towards it, and he has to hold him by the collar to stop him getting run over.

the beemer pulls up and steve harrington, in all his glory, steps out, frowning. dustin wrenches out of eddie's grip and all but bodies the guy, wrapping arms tightly around his midsection. steve, still looking puzzled, hugs back. lucas and mike trail after dustin.

"we called a check-in." dustin says, a bit muffled from where his face is smushed into steve's shirt. steve goes sort of pale, and- and presses a goddamn kiss to the top of henderson's head before tightening the hug.

"shit, i'm sorry." and eddie believes him. he sounds so guilty. "i meant to replace the batteries before i left. sorry, i'm okay." dustin pulls back and scrubs at his eyes. lucas takes his place, though the hug he gives is more like one of those bro-hugs jocks seem to love. steve smiles regardless. he just ruffles mike's hair, who pouts in response but looks relieved nonetheless.

"asshole." he mutters. "rule four, walkies on at all times." steve nods as the kid half-heartedly waves goodbye to eddie and hops in the backseat of the beemer. lucas follows. dustin seems reluctant to walk around the car, to take his eyes off steve for even a second.

"you wanna stay over tonight?" steve asks, warm and gentle. he folds his arms and in that moment eddie thinks they look sort of like brothers. "robin and me were gonna watch some films. we can call your mom from mine."

the kid nods, looking a bit happier. steve slaps him on the back and motions him to get in the car. dustin swivels to hug and say goodbye to eddie (who sort of forgot he was physically present in this moment) before doing as he was told.

steve turns to eddie. which- whew! hi pretty eyes.

"sorry." he smiles and eddie can't for the life of him figure out what he's apologising for. "they, uh- yeah. them." he gestures vaguely at the car and eddie just chuckles.

"hey, man, no worries." he says, a little breathless that he's having a conversation with the steve harrington. "they okay? never seen henderson look so rattled." steve nods, then seems to think better of it and just shrugs. cocks his hip to the side (stop fucking staring at his hips, munson, lord!)

"they will be." he glances back at the beemer, which is now full of childish bickering. pauses to think and then asks, "you using demogorgons in your campaign right now?"

eddie blinks at him. "yes? yeah. what the fuck- how do you know what that is? what-" steve just laughs.

"long story." there's a haunted look in his eyes before he continues, "just, uh- that's probably what upset them. demogorgons and us- them, i mean-" he waves his hand. "bad memories. hard to explain, but... if you could..." he doesn't need to ask, seems like he doesn't know how or even if he's allowed.

"got it, ill tweak the campaign." harrington smiles at him, something small and genuine, and murmurs a thanks. offers him a fucking lift, which eddie declines, motioning to his van. harrington just nods, tells him to get home safe and then clambers back into the car, yells at the kids to put seatbelts on with all the exasperation of a single dad, and pulls away.

eddie watches them go, having seen a side of harrington he'd thought dustin had been lying about. steve harrington, the caring babysitter, everyone's older brother, a changed man.

he starts escorting the kids to the parking lot more often.

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i-smoke-chapstick · 28 days ago

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saw that you're in your got era so perhaps jealousy headcanons for the got or hotd characters? 👀 literally anyone from these characters - robb, jaime, margaery, oberyn, theon, cersei or ramsay, I'd love to see your interpretation on any of them ! ( or aemond, alicent, aegon, gwayne, OTTO !!, larys, daemon or mysaria for hotd, again whichever era you feel like it !!) and just for future reference, do you write for asoiaf characters or mainly the shows?

'LOVE CAN KILL, [jealousy! hcs]

-GOT / HOTD CHARACTERS X READER-

⋆ Characters ↬ Robb, Jaime, Margaery, Oberyn, Cersei, Joffrey, Ramsay, Tyrion, The Hound, Aemond, Aegon, Alicent, Gwayne, Daemon

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; jealousy, and how some characters deal with it ;)

⋆ tags/warnings. GOT and HOTD!characters x female reader. SFW! But naturally, some of these characters get a bit suggestive! Possessive behavior, canon typical violence, etc. Please send in more GOT/HOTD requests! Apologies this took so long, this is more characters in a post than I've ever done lol. Unfortunately I'm not super familiar with Otto, Larys, Theon, or Mysaria, so I decided to pick some characters I'm more familiar with! (Joffrey is my #1 favorite of all time, my sincerest apologies.) Whew, 14 characters ! For right now I'm only writing for the TV shows! (i've only read book 1, lol)

𝑅𝛰𝐵𝐵 𝑆𝑇𝐴𝑅𝐾

♫ “I wasn't thinking when I told you to stay.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

With Robb, it's all about the body language. And boy, he's horrible at hiding it.

He can have a hard time placing the feeling as jealousy. He was raised to be honorable. But feelings of...neglect run deep with him. Oldest child syndrome, if you will.

Which is why his jealousy most likely manifests in subdued, quiet behavior. Part of him will recognize he's being ridiculous, while another part of him is silently fuming. Fists clenched, he'll send you an intense stare as he watches you converse with another lord.

His emotions leak through his expressions. When he catches you staring back, his gaze will flit down, and he'll wait patiently for you're time. Or...in most cases...he'll march right up, placing himself between you and the man. Maybe a small, "I'll take it from here." If the lord is offering to help you with something.

A subtle touch on the small of your back. It's a small claim, a subtle "back-off."

A lot of his jealousy also transforms into protectiveness more than anything. He'll offer to accompany reader to places he wouldn't normally be concerned about. He's close by, and he's reminding her wordlessly, he's watching over her and any threat.

Finally, when you two are alone, will he drop down that guard of his. Covering up that burning pit inside him with casual humor, you can sense the underlaying seriousness of his voice in his light teases.

"You’re quite popular these days. Should I be worried that I’m not your only admirer?"

He certainly beds you, having something to prove. And only afterwards when you are in his arms, sweaty and warm from the candlelight, wrapped in furs...will he calm down.

"It’s not that I don’t trust you… It’s them I don’t trust. Some men don’t know how to keep their place." He'll whisper, holding onto you firmly.

𝐽𝐴𝐼𝑀𝐸 𝐿𝐴𝑁𝑁𝐼𝑆𝑇𝐸𝑅

♫ “You don't know that you're in over your head.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Jaime's jealousy is burning. It's simply the way he was raised. And gods, you are his.

Numerous sarcastic remarks flow between the two of you and the man who he believes has essentially stolen your affections. His taunts are offhand, dry remarks, often directed towards his "opponent" or even you, if he's feeling bitter enough.

"I didn’t realize he was such a comedian. Maybe I should ask him for pointers." He'll say, with that sarcastic drawl. "If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to make me jealous. Not that it would work, of course." He chuckles, but his gaze is sharp.

Depending on the offense, Jaime's reactions differ. If you simply have an admirer, a few...well chosen words are directed towards them. His confidence allows him to not be too bothered. Maybe standing closer, clearly showing off to whatever poor soul thought they had a shot with you.

It's a different story if you are friends with the person involved, or entertain their advances even mildly or jokingly.

That's when the uncharacteristic tension comes out, full of small twitches in his jaw and curt, smug responses. His visible annoyance is uncontrolled.

We saw how he was with Loras when it came to Cersei. If he feels truly threatened, whether it's by another pretty boy, or just someone he feels could...hypothetically...have the upper hand...He'll corner them when you're off somewhere else. And give a small warning, from the Kingslayer himself.

"You seem to have forgotten who you're dealing with, so let me remind you." He leans in just close enough for his words to sink in. "Whatever you think you might be to her… you’re not. Let’s keep it that way, hm? I'd hate to see you make any...lasting mistakes."

𝑀𝐴𝑅𝐺𝐴𝐸𝑅𝑌 𝑇𝑌𝑅𝐸𝐿𝐿

♫ “It was just too hard to push you away.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Margaery is smart with her feelings. She knows how to play the game, and play it well. Instead of showing her jealousy openly, she's a touch more composed than most characters on this list.

She recognizes just how precious you are, and admires that. She doesn't necessarily blame others when they become...attached to you.

When jealousy arises, she views it more as a small problem in need of being handled. And she knows how to handle things.

She embraces the graceful competition, subtly outshining anyone who seems to get in the way of her goals. Her goal being you're affection, of course. You're already hers, and she sees no problem in working to keep it that way.

This appears in gestures of strategic sweetness to keep you close, perhaps wearing your favorite gowns on her, and offering that charming smirk. She doesn't shy away from manipulating you, just a teeny bit.

"They’re certainly captivated by you. I suppose I’ll have to work harder to keep your attention." She teases, "Besides, who could ever compare to us?"

Her words carry a playful undertone, but she makes her point clear. Laughing charmingly, threading her arm through yours.

Very rarely does she think she's in any serious danger. She prides herself on being yours and knowing how to keep you on a tight leash. Though...if she feels genuinely worried, she expresses her feelings quite clearly but still gently. She reminds her lover of their shared goals, and all that they've built together.

"My, you do attract admirers easily, don’t you? I’ll have to start guarding you more closely." She gives you a playful look, though her touch on your arm will linger just a bit longer than usual.

𝛰𝐵𝐸𝑅𝑌𝑁 𝑀𝐴𝑅𝑇𝐸𝐿𝐿

♫ “Let me go, but you won't let me go.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Oberyn doesn't feel insecure. How could he? He knows, deep down, that you're his. Jealousy isn't something he confines himself too, he views it as an ugly emotion, capable of getting rid of the true wonders love has to offer.

That being said...he is only a man. And he is fiercely protective. If anyone were to flirt with you and you were clearly uninterested, it would be a swift death, or at the very least, he'd make his point clear with a blow or two and a cutting edge remark. Especially if they are a Lannister. He enjoys you being admired, but only to a certain extent.

"Your efforts are wasted, they’re far too captivating for someone like you. I’d suggest you find someone more... suited to your charms." He begins, hand itching for his spear, "Consider this your first and last warning."

Yeah, he means business.

Most of the time, he spins the situation to show-off. Showcase his own passion and devotion to you. If it's simply a friend of yours, he may even offer them to join in. If not, he'll spend the entire night practically worshipping you, promising that he's the only one who could ever make you feel like this.

Similarly to Margaery, he teases you lightly.

"You have a lovely laugh. But I must admit, it’s much better when it’s for me alone."

Oberyn doesn't shy away from PDA either. It's that assertive reclaiming he seems to favor, pulling you close, whispering something that affirms your affections for each other. He'll revel when he watches the other mans face fall in dismay.

He might get cocky, and push it a bit far. By the time he's done, the 'competition' will be utterly humiliated and embarrassed. He'll be smirking at his own quips.

"I assure you, my friend, my lover favors...more substantial things." He motions to the poor mans crotch.

You're gonna have to give him a slap on the arm.

𝐶𝐸𝑅𝑆𝐸𝐼 𝐿𝐴𝑁𝑁𝐼𝑆𝑇𝐸𝑅

♫ “Consequence of loving me can be cruel.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Cersei's jealousy is intense and multifaceted, to say the least. It manifests in a mix of cold fury and harsh threats, channeling that anger into much more controlling behavior.

Deep down, she is terribly insecure. Once another man or woman as your attention, and she catches on, she's coolly lashing out. And she catches on quickly.

At first she may appear indifferent, but if you look close enough, you can see the subtly giveaways. The way her lip curls, her nostrils flare, and her knuckles go white gripping her wine chalice.

If you're the first one to confront her, and attempt to reassure her, you'll save yourself some trouble down the line. Guaranteed, she'll deny it, but still make a passive-aggressive remark here and there. But eventually she'll calm down, edges softening.

That rare moment of vulnerability that you're not sure is manipulation or not. She'll look towards the ground, running her thumb over you're hand on her cheek. She'll sit on the edge of her bed, jaw clenched.

Now, it's a whole different story if you don't catch on to the early signs. If you don't manage to reassure or call her out in time, that jealousy implodes.

She may confront you first, anger bleeding through her. She runs on it. She may even threaten you, oblivious to the potential consequences her words might have.

“You think you can charm your way into my affections by paying attention to that little fool?" She's standing up, loathing distorting her features. Her voice raises. "Perhaps I should throw a feast in her honor. Let’s see how charming she is when surrounded by my people."

It's threats and threats and more and more threats...which can be especially worrying if the person she's jealous of is a friend of yours.

Almost every scenario ends with you having to comfort her, treading carefully with the words you say.

Now, when it comes to confronting the competition, she makes it very clear. Though, these threats are often much more impulsive. A swig of wine, and she gracefully moves towards them when you're out of sight.

A faux compliment or two, before she whispers, close.

“You’ll find that my guards are quite loyal to me. A simple command, and they’ll ensure you never breathe the same air as her again.”

It only makes her feel a bit better. But, regardless, she's smiling smugly, feeling proud of herself when the offenders face turns white.

𝐽𝛰𝐹𝐹𝑅𝐸𝑌 𝐵𝐴𝑅𝐴𝑇𝐻𝐸𝛰𝑁

♫ “Too much love can kill.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Oh, Joffrey. I'm obsessed with him.

Yeah. He has the worst jealousy issues out of everyone on this list. It's baaaaad. It's a cocktail of insecurity, possessiveness, and entitlement. As someone who has been raised to believe he is above others, and has been coddled his entire life...it infuriates him.

It's the same feeling you get as a child, when someone steals one of your toys. You belong to him. He never grew out of that mentality, or that feeling.

Be prepared for plentiful outbursts of anger. He's a tantrum personified, especially if he feels disrespected. Insecurity grips him tight and refuses to let up until he's either been heavily reassured...or the other person is... taken care of.

And even then, after reassuring him for hours, it may not be enough. You know how he hired a knight to take out Tyrion in the Battle of Blackwater? Yeah. That person will be paid a little 'visit.'

When reassuring him, similar to Cersei, you really have to be careful what you say, or it might make the situation even worse. At that point, he's seeing red.

"I’m the king! You should be grateful for my attention, not chasing after scraps!" He's huffing, pointing to himself as his breathing increases. He'll look at you with an ice cold glare, nose wrinkled in distaste.

He might even force his hand around your face, harshly grabbing you. He looks dead into your eyes, voice clear and low. "You're mine. You belong to me." He's seething.

If he notices you simply looking at anyone else too long, he'll feel beyond threatened in both his masculinity and position as king. Especially if you laugh at another mans jokes, or simply attempt to be friendly with a commoner or lord.

"What’s so amusing? You’d think you’d find better entertainment than that fool." He mutters under his breath harshly, bad habit of picking at his fingers. He'll shuffle uncomfortably. He'll look to you expecting agreeance. It's 100% that mentality of 'Friends? You don't need friends. You have me.'

Yeah, he keeps the very blunt insults coming. Petulant name calling is not above him. Includes, but is not limited too, "Degenerates, Idiots, Commoners, Peasants, or Cretins" which he may describe as being "Stupid, Disgusting, Repellent, Sickening, or Revolting." He's got a LOT of those angry remarks in the bank.

While he may not directly confront the offender, (he doesn't have time for idle threats.) He has his own ways of dealing with them. And that is a public humiliation ritual, making a mockery of any rival. And if they disobey ANY whim of his, they're gone. That one scene with Tyrion at his wedding? That "Kneel!"? He's commanding the same of any man unlucky enough to have threatened his claim on you. Oh, and they're going to be his cupbearer.

Even if they do as he asks, by now his anger will have transformed into that renewed sense of cruelty. "You're fingers or your tongue?...Or I could just cut your throat."

𝑅𝐴𝑀𝑆𝐴𝑌 𝐵𝛰𝐿𝑇𝛰𝑁

♫ “You're gonna suffer now, whatever you do.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

His jealousy may not be as overtly intense as Joffrey's, but it certainly is the scariest.

In his own words, he prefers being an only child. That same kind of mentality certainly carries over to his relationship with you. He prefers to be the only one you see that way.

He loves a good game, and that's what this is. If anything, it's quite exhilarating for him. Though, he is a huge hypocrite. For a man who thinks jealousy is boring coming from you, he feels it quite freely.

Sees it as a means of asserting dominance, whether that be through intimidation or overt manipulation. He doesn't deny it like most characters on this list. When he's feeling jealous, he says it. It's a small warning for you not to go any farther, lest worse things occur for you or the perceived threat.

He'll go up to whoever you are talking too, saccharine and honorable smile on his face. He'll casually interrupt, introducing himself as Lord Bolton's successor. Despite his calm demeanor, there is a tightness in his face, and a wicked look in his eyes, that only you can recognize. It will make you shiver.

If the rival persists, he'll find it all too amusing.

"You're bold, I'll give you that." He says with a boisterous laugh, and you already know the mans fate is sealed.

Looks like his hounds will be having another meal tonight. He'll have his men go out looking for the man, and he'll question him more...privately, when you aren't there to witness his tortuous taunts.

But for now, his focus is on you, and your loyalty to him. When he excuses the both of you, his hand is gripping yours painfully tight.

By the time you're in his chamber, he's on you, ripping your clothes off with a harsh intensity and pushing you to the wall. His nose is twitching in barely kept anger, forcing you to look at him.

We all saw that scene between him and Myranda when she threatens to marry someone else, and it was not pretty. His eyes are borderline bloodshot, and he can't keep his hands off you or your throat.

"You're mine." He leans forward, through gritted teeth. It's better you don't put up a fight, because he'll be having you and your attention one way or another.

Que the numerous kisses and bite marks soon to follow. And he is not gentle when he's inside you.

You'll never hear from the flirtatious lord again...and if you do, it's only in the prayers of his grieving family.

𝑇𝑌𝑅𝐼𝛰𝑁 𝐿𝐴𝑁𝑁𝐼𝑆𝑇𝐸𝑅

♫ “My love, you are not safe with me.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Now, Tyrion's jealousy is more subdued and introspective versus some characters on this list. He has a good sense of self-awareness, and he's intelligent to figure out what he's feeling quite quickly.

At first he'll dismiss it as nothing more than an annoying feeling of insecurity he attempts to cover up. But...it doesn't last long. Especially when someone else makes you laugh. Or when Bronn makes a taunt with a half smirk, that some other fancy lord has taken a keen interest in his lady. (Bronn, you instigator!)

As such, Tyrion resorts to his usual humor to deflect any unpleasant feelings he may have when he's jealous. Similar to his brother, these witty remarks are are subtle intimidation technique, meant to dryly convey his displeasure.

"Ah, the sound of laughter. How quaint. I suppose I’ll have to work harder to earn your amusement." He forces a smile, masking his discomfort. "I didn’t realize I was competing for the title of Court Jester."

These feelings of inadequacy manifest in more self-deprecating ways for Tyrion, given his anger is more controlled. He might opt to drown his sorrows, so don't be surprised if you catch him drunkenly waving his chalice around, doing poor impressions of the so-called-lord that had your attention.

This doesn't mean he won't confront the rival, though. Quite the opposite. While he won't seek the man out, (For his sake, he isn't privy to seeing the tall handsome lord in person. He's not a masochist.) If he happens to come across him flirting with you first hand, or sees him during a feast, he'll make sure to throw one or two gibes out there.

"Desperation looks unflattering on you, my friend. Perhaps you should tone it down a notch." He speaks carefully, nodding to Bronn as a subtle warning. "Or at least the best you can manage..?"

If the rival flirts with you blatantly and in front of him, I can 100% imagine him putting them down. After a flirtatious remark directed towards you, he'll make a dry comment, "Flattery is wasted on me, but do go on; I’m always entertained by those who think they can win my affection." As if it was directed towards him. Probably shuts the man up for a moment.

When the two of you are alone, he'd be very grateful if you could just hold him. Give him that reassurance he craves when his carefree facade breaks. That moment of vulnerability means the world to him.

𝑆𝐴𝑁𝐷𝛰𝑅 "𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐻𝛰𝑈𝑁𝐷" 𝐶𝐿𝐸𝐺𝐴𝑁𝐸

♫ “I need you to go, don't fight me.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Listen up, Sandor doesn't take shit.

Jealousy isn't an emotion Sandor is particularly used too. In fact, he didn't think he'd find anyone to love in his lifetime, so the feeling is foreign and unpleasant. And, like a mean dog, Sandor's first reaction is to growl.

He doesn't like it. Says it's constricting, and it pisses him off. Not just the pretty boy lord flirting with you, but the whole situation in general. Makes him feel vulnerable, and weak.

Naturally, his first reaction is to distance himself. He may avoid you, grumbling, spitting out vile and vulgar comments to get you to run with your tail between your legs. It's better for the both of you that way.

"You think they’re worth your time? Just a pretty smile to distract you?" He scoffs, shaking his head. "You could do better. But then again, you always choose to suffer." He motions at himself, and it's a glimpse of that self-depreciation he buries.

But you love him for a reason, and you know that won't end well. Best way to handle him when he's jealous is to be gentle, and to listen.

He doesn't want empty reassurances. He's complicated that way, even if they are genuine. He isn't one for flowery words or overt displays of emotion, so the best way to comfort him would be to give him some space, but continue to take care of him.

It will still frustrate him, but eventually he'll cave. He'll rejoin you, silently, eventually. Won't offer any apologies, but maybe a gruff nod, and you two will commence whatever it is you two have.

In future instances, he becomes much more brutally honest with how he feels. Doesn't sugarcoat it. If he doesn't like someone, even if they are a friend, he expects them gone- or he'll take care of them regardless. That kind of possessive behavior is just something you'll have to work through.

I can imagine him silently brooding if he witnesses someone flirting with you first hand. Typically his size and reputation is enough to scare whoever away. He's looming over them, eyes dark, and ready to defend what's his.

When you take your leave, he'll confront the person with a very explicit threat or two.

"If you don’t back off, I’ll find a nice dark corner to stuff you in- preferably with a pile of shit." Or, "Get any closer, and I’ll rip your tongue out and shove it down your throat."

𝐴𝐸𝑀𝛰𝑁𝐷 𝑇𝐴𝑅𝐺𝐴𝑅𝑌𝐸𝑁

♫ “Get swallowed by the weight.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Aemond has the most...complex jealousy out of everyone on this list. It's layered, and the outcome may be unpredictable. It's an emotional and volatile nature that's been building up for years since he was a child.

He often had feelings of jealousy for his brother, his nephews, etc. That trauma is deeply rooted in him, and it's hard to let go of old habits, given it's been present all his life.

You'll watch his head bow in distaste when you make small conversation with other lords. How his eye will gaze at you, almost warningly. His jaw will be clenched tight, and he'll avoid eye contact, looking off to the side in anger. He doesn't want to watch.

If it's a friend of yours, he can be a bit mean, questioning your loyalty a bit harshly.

"Friendship? Is that what you call it?" He speaks, angrily. A thinly veiled threat is directed to you, "It seems more like a prelude to betrayal."

He'll brood in the corner, silently waiting. That is, unless, he deems the man goes too far.

In the scene where he gets his eye put out by Lucerys, the conversation that starts before it happens pretty much sums his jealousy up. He's firm with his claim to Vaghar, and the same goes for you.

When Rhaena states that Vaghar was hers to claim, Aemond responds in kind, "Then you should've claimed her." And puts up a hell of a fight to prove his point. That same possessiveness carries over to his relationship with you. He doesn't back down. You're his.

He has no problems getting in between you and the man he feels threatened of. He offers a blunt threat.

"I could have you torn apart, limb by limb, and I’d sleep soundly at night. Be certain of that."

Guaranteed, mixed feelings of insecurity will rise to the surface. When you two are alone, he'll continue to brood silently, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and body language tight.

Please do reassure him. He needs it. His eye will soften, and he'll place his hand over yours, leaning into your touch. With a soft huff of an air, a final warning slips past his lips.

"Don’t make me remind you why I’m the only one worthy of you."

𝐴𝐸𝐺𝛰𝑁 𝑇𝐴𝑅𝐺𝐴𝑅𝑌𝐸𝑁

♫ “I wanna hold on tightly.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Aegon handles jealousy poorly, much like he seems to handle everything else.

It's like throwing gasoline on a fire. Once that feeling in his chest flares up, it's shown through erratic behavior, sarcasm, and attempts to assert his claim in juvenile, insecure ways. Unlike his brother, he lacks the restraint to simply brood.

No, be prepared for plenty of mocking comments directed towards the man he's threatened of, and showy displays to prove he's the better choice.

Everyone knows he is unpredictable and reckless, and possessiveness drives him to act out. He certainly overindulges to cope with his insecurity, (getting shitfaced) and will gladly push your boundaries to get your attention back on him.

Not to mention the belittling comments he'll make.

"Oh, is that who you’ve chosen to entertain now? I didn’t realize your taste had grown so dull."

Prone to acting overtly clingy, almost like a restless cat. He will attempt to slide over into the conversation, resting an arm around you, or even pulling you away. He doesn't care if it's 'improper.' He probably brings up his status, his bloodline, acting over-the-top.

He's also no stranger to outbursts. His temper may make him lash out impulsively, whether that be towards you or the man whose got your attention. If he's in a particular mood, be ready to deal with a screaming Aegon, threatening to slaughter and burn said rival. His fist will come down hard on the council table.

He also doesn't care if he's making a show of it in front of the council members. Que Alicent or Otto attempting to placate him. He needs to have a cooler head if he's going to be ruling the Seven Kingdoms, and this type of behavior isn't very becoming.

He definitely thinks he's owed some make-up sex, if only to quell the insecure storm raging inside him.

"You think they could satisfy you? Truly?" He says, firmly, as he steps closer. Anger is burning in his words, volume raising. "They wouldn’t even know where to begin."

And he plans to show you that he's right.

𝐴𝐿𝐼𝐶𝐸𝑁𝑇 𝐻𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇𝛰𝑊𝐸𝑅

♫ “I'm afraid I'll pull you over the edge.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Alicent experiences jealousy complexly, just like Aemond. It gnaws on her until she's at her breaking point. Rather than overt displays or confrontations, she attempts to employ more strategic distance...but it always ends up resorting in icy politeness.

She's making her displeasure known through restrained, pointed remarks. Out of duty and pride, she'll attempt to avoid direct confrontation, but she wears her jealousy on her sleeve.

I imagine her withdrawing from the situation at first, if not for anything but her own sake. Her gut reaction, out of insecurity, is to escape the situation. It honestly makes her feel sick.

Unless she's forced to stay...then she'll begrudgingly offer a tight smile. Her responses are carefully measured, and she slips into that role of "queen" rather than a lover.

A part of it stems from passive aggressiveness, and another part of it is purely subconscious.

Speaking of passive aggressiveness, she'll make some pretty cutting remarks, either questioning your loyalty or purposely feigning ignorance to the situation.

"Perhaps I’m mistaken. But I know loyalty when I see it. Or when I don’t."

It's an all bark, no bite threat towards you. But it serves as an aggressive reminder of your connection with her, and that you are now apart of her duties.

If she does interfere beforehand, she'll make indirect remarks about the person causing her jealousy, but will most likely frame it as merely her own curiosity.

Maybe just a touch of self-depreciation, unintentional manipulation. Years of Otto's techniques have rubbed off on her.

"It’s of little consequence, truly. I simply thought I was the one you preferred to spend your time with. I may have misjudged."

𝐺𝑊𝐴𝑌𝑁𝐸 𝐻𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇𝛰𝑊𝐸𝑅

♫ “Hurts to say it over, over again.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

In contrast to Alicent, Gwayne has no problem when he feels threatened to step in. He's a member of a powerful house, and a knight no less. Those two things have taught him to be prideful and honorable.

He will defend your honor whenever he deems in necessary, and there are no exceptions. He certainly has a flash of a temper, but he believes he's much more restrained than others, given his training.

If he thinks someone is crossing a line, he'll interfere. He'll position himself quite closely to you, making his presence known.

He offers the man a silent warning, offering a cool, assessing look. It would be enough to communicate his disapproval.

And if the man persists...well...they'll end up with the end of a sword pointed at them.

Similar to Robb, Gwayne's jealousy appears more in his heightened protectiveness. He insists on staying close for your safety.

"Do they need to be reminded that you’re already spoken for?"

Obviously, his noble pride carries on. If he gets pushed, his jealousy will show more openly, taking the man aside, and telling them that he is more worthy of her time and attention. Might throw in a comment about his noble standing.

He'll take you aside when everything is said and done, reminding her his intentions are honorable. Everyone else is just...unworthy.

"You may not see it, but I know men like him. If he truly respected you, he wouldn’t need to linger around someone else’s beloved."

𝐷𝐴𝐸𝑀𝛰𝑁 𝑇𝐴𝑅𝐺𝐴𝑅𝑌𝐸𝑁

♫ "No matter how you feel." Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Oh boy, you'll have to keep this man on a tight leash when his jealousy flares up. It's as intense as he is, and he shows it openly.

He'll deny it, or embrace it, depending on the severity of the perceived offense. It's closely tied to that desire for power within him he can't seem to shake. Any affront to your loyalty is an affront to his own standing.

He switches from possessive protectiveness to outright hostility. There's really no in between. It's a raw and unfiltered fury that makes his hand shake and his eye twitch.

He doesn't tolerate rivals, and he's very upfront that he's the only one fit to be by your side. This comes through when he has you all to himself on his bed...

He'll confront the person whether you want him to or not.

"If they value their limbs, they’d remember you’re mine." He mutters casually, pacing around the room.

He carries that hard glint in his eyes. He may even mildly appreciate the sheer balls of the man stupid enough to attempt to flirt with you, but he'll shut it down quicker than anyone on this list.

"You’ve got a bold tongue. I wonder if I should cut it out..?" He'll look to you for permission. It's up to you if you wanna let the dragon loose!

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messylustt · 1 year ago

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𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥) — 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐡𝐞𝐦

miguel o’hara x fem!reader. a lot of words.

fic masterlist previous part pt eight next part

violence + blood + injuries; making out; suggestive content; my god whew — miguel’s hand raises to…what? you don’t know, because the spider society’s alarm bell is ringing. mayhem, fire, fights…masked men. you only want to help. when miguel confronts you about your ‘help’ clearly displaying anger and well…worry, something unexpected happens…you both getting as close as you did before…maybe closer?

You’re still staring at Miguel, staying close. Closer than you probably should be. And just as his hand reaches up to…to what? What was he going to do?

Because now the alarms are sounding. Followed by the cries of spider-people. You quickly whip your head to the door. And at first Miguel doesn’t look away from you. As if the word ‘emergency’ isn’t registering in his brain. No. He keeps his eyes on you, his lifted hand having to drop away as you rush to the door.

Miguel clenched his jaw, cursing the whole idea of having an ‘emergency bell’.

You’ve reached the door and then the hallway seeing mayhem. Everyone is running (or more so webbing) around, as a fire had started in the centre.

Miguel is soon joining you, just as you spot Miles and Hobie running up. “There you are, mate.” Hobie sighs in relief, grabbing your shoulders as he goes to move you.

“Wh-“ You look around. “What’s going on?”

Miguel narrows his eyes on Hobie’s hands. He knows now’s really not the time to feel petty, but part of him wants to break his ringed fingers. Hobie moves you with him further down the hallway. “If they recognise ya, they’ll wanna kill ya, luv. So, let’s maybe go…ay?”

Your eyes widen. “Kill?! What? Why?”

Miles is hot on both your heels. Miguel not far behind him. Then Miguel notices Miles, brows slightly furrowing. “Why are you here?” He asks, making Miles glance back.

“Uh…I was invited.” He says slowly.

“Uh huh.” He eyed the kid. “By who? Gwen?”

Miles gulps at the look Miguel is giving him. “Yeah…”

“Mm.” Miguel hums, looking distasteful as he walks past Miles, catching up to you and Hobie. “Now we’re letting anyone in?” He mutters to himself with a small scoff.

“Hobie, what happened?” You ask, as he continues to move you, his grip staying on your shoulders. He brings you to the tech room, it appearing empty. You look behind you at the way you came. “I didn’t know you could get here through there.” You mutter.

“Lyla.” You hear Miguel say, her appearing by his shoulder. “What is this?” Though the look Miguel is displaying makes you feel as though he already knows.

“An attack on HQ.” Lyla says, beginning to tap away at her little screens.

“Okay, there are way too many of them.” You hear Pav say, running into the room.

“We held them off as much as we could.” Gwen is close behind. “But their strong. Like freaky strong.”

“Y/n!” Pav exclaims, bringing you in for a hug.

“Oh—“ You weren’t expecting the hug, everything happening so fast, as you slowly pat his back.

“Where were you?” He sounds concerned.

“I was just…” you drift off, licking your lips. “Gwen, whose really strong?” You quickly look to her.

“You remember the men who attacked last time? The one’s with the masks?” Gwen asks, to which you slowly nod, catching on.

“They’re back?” You ask. Gwen nods.

“But they look different.” Gwen’s says—her having seen the ones who attacked you and the tech room when they were in pools of their own blood, curtesy of Miguel. “They’re…”

“Bigger.” You mutter, picturing the masked men that were in Miles’ universe. “Better suits? Strangely taller?” You ask her.

“Yeah…”

“They’ve upgraded.” You mutter.

“Which means they aren’t here for a tiny thief job.” Miguel says, walking past you all to one of the only computers that didn’t get smashed. He pauses though, licking his teeth, as he mutters rather quietly. “Does anyone know the password?”

You hold back your amused smile, as you walk up to the computer. You lean down, tapping at the keyboard. The screen glitches a little, but for the most part it works.

“You’re looking for the security cameras right?” You ask Miguel, still staring at the screen. Lyla was clearly too busy to compute it, so you tap at more keys, bringing up roughly twenty different security camera images.

You zoom in on the middle three, displaying the fire and the masked men. Miguel leans over the desk beside you, staring at the screen. “They started the fire by smashing the tech there.” You point to a far spot on the screen, noticing the destroyed screens and machines.

Everyone had begun to surround the computer. “Why do they want to destroy tech?” Pav ask, as you shift your gaze to Miguel.

His gaze is focused on the screen, and more specifically on one specific ‘masked man’ . You narrowed your gaze on him. Where had he gone earlier? Has he met this guy? How does he recognise him? They all look the same to you.

Green woven—now metal—suits, but still those handmade masks…except now with added metal elements scattered randomly. “Miguel.” You say, making him shift his gaze to you.

You tilt your head, silently communicating that you know somethings up. The raise of your brows asks him why he isn’t voicing anything.

Miguel’s teeth are grinding as he stares at you, silently communicating back. You narrow your eyes upon understanding his expression as one showing he’s not going to voice anything. If he doesn’t have to anyway.

Hobie stares at you two for a moment, blinking. “Can you two read each others minds now? Is that what we’ve been missin’?”

You shift your gaze to Hobie, who’s standing, arms crossed. Then a rather loud scream makes all your heads whip to the computer. A masked man is holding up a spider-person by the throat. But what makes you want to puke is the way his claw is beginning to stab into the spiders chest and running down, tearing skin and other bodily flesh.

Hobie, Gwen, Pav, and Miles are quick, rushing out of the room and assumably to the lobby, where the guy’s screams are easily heard. Other spider-people are trying to fight back, but the masked men seem to be knocking them down a little too easily. How are they doing that so easily?

You swiftly turn your gaze to the screen, eyes darting, as your chest heaved. “One of them took it, Miguel.” Lyla says, making you shift your gaze to him.

He’s moving away, most likely to get to the action to help as well. He meets your gaze. “Don’t you dare move.” He warns, before he’s slipping through the secret entry.

What did Lyla say? One of the masked men took what? You look back to the computer, wincing every time a spider-person got hit. Hard. You take note of one guy, his hits extra painful to watch—the one Miguel was staring at. You wanted to help. You wished you could help.

Then you hear the shuffle of metal making you spin. But your heart slows upon seeing Peter and Mayday. Wait…mayday?!

You rush forward, seeing Peter’s frantic expression. “Y/n, Thank god. I didn’t—I didn’t know what to do.” He gesturing to Mayday.

“Peter why is she here?!” You’re extremely worried.

“I didn’t know an attack was gonna happen! I would have left her home.” He’s looking behind him, clearly knowing he has to help, but still holding tightly onto an unbothered, babbling Mayday.

You quickly grab her, pulling her into your arms. “Go.” You say. “They need you out there. Go.”

Peter looks hesitant, and you understand why. “I’ll hide.” You say, knowing he’s skeptical because you’re well…human and could barely fight back against those men. Especially if spider variants are getting knocked out.

“They won’t find me. They won’t find her.” You hold Mayday close to you, as she rests her head on your shoulder, her smile still present.

Then Peter is nodding. He trusts you. He knows you’re not one to be stupid. “Go.” You say again, and he moves, rushing out towards the action.

Your heart is beating on overdrive. Holding Mayday tightly, you turned back to the screen. None of your friends were knocked out, injured or…dead. But just as you go to find somewhere to hide—as you had promised, you noticed something.

A small machine, with a switch, it’s almost unseeable through the screen, but you catch it. That isn’t the spider-society’s tech. That’s from the masked men.

No. It suddenly clicks. Why all the spider-people were getting knocked out easy, why they could never sense when a masked man was l close. It was as if someone switched off their spider-sense and strength.

You felt Mayday lean away, using her own spider webs to attach to a farther desk, yanking you along the ground. “Mayday.” You hold her back. Now was not the time. Why did Peter give her her own webs?

You rip the web, pulling her back. “Mayday.” You say making your look at you, hair curling around her face. “You have to stay still. Okay? Just stay in my arms. Then how bout we play a game after?”

Her face lights up. You’d played these games with her, the main two being learning fun handshakes, and the other was hide and seek. “Alright?” You ask gently. She excitedly jumps in your arms. “You gotta stay still, though.” She stills, wrapping her arms around your neck.

You sigh, turning back to the screen. You can spot Gwen looking confused, clearly feeling the effects of not having a spider-sense. Then you spot Miguel. He seems unaffected by the change, noticing the masked men a lot quicker than the other spider people. Then you shift your gaze back to the switch.

The spider variants didn’t know. Shit, shit, shit. You had said you’d hide, to keep Mayday safe. But you can’t just do…nothing. Then you decide something incredibly stupid, like beyond a seeable level of stupid that could turn out terribly.

But you had to try. Because they weren’t winning out there. You pull Mayday away, making sure she caught your gaze. “Okay, Mayday…we’re gonna a play a game now. How’s that?”

She nods quickly, clapping her hands. “Alright…you remember hide and seek?”

She again nods at you, slightly playing with your hair. “I’m gonna count. And you’re gonna hide. Somewhere good. Really good.”

She begins to try and get out for yours arms, eager to play. “Mayday. Find somewhere really good.” She’d always been very good at choosing a hard hiding place. It always took you forever to find her. And you were counting on that.

Then you reluctantly let her go. You wouldn’t be long. You wouldn’t be. “One…” you pretend to cover your eyes, as you watch her waddle away through the cracks between your fingers.

You were stressed. This plan couldn’t go wrong. You wouldn’t let it. “Two…”

You were gonna reach that switch. “Three…”

And now you can’t see Mayday, knowing what direction she ran in, and roughly where she had hid, so that you could rush back to her. You had to be quick.

You ran towards the secret exit, grabbing a loose pipe. You’d rather go out there with a weapon. Loud sounds reach your eardrums when you made it outside the room, but you continued to run.

You couldn’t slow, or take your time. You rushed past spiders, thankful none are noticing you. Just stay unnoticed—you keep repeating to yourself. You reached the middle of the mayhem. And god was it hectic.

You couldn’t let Peter see you. You couldn’t let Miguel see you. You couldn’t let any of them see you. It’s as if you never came here. You ran, skirting past broken tables and machines.

Everything felt hot, the fire still partially there. You held back a scream as a tumbling, fighting duo nearly barrelled into you—it managed to knock away your pipe, but you couldn’t stop to dwell. The switch, the switch, the switch.

You slid to your knees, rushing under a table. You’ve almost gotten punched, and you’re sure a cut is bleeding. But you run, you can now see the switch, and also your friends. They look terrible.

You grit your teeth moving quicker. You’re so close. And just as you think relief is near, a body hits you, knocking you down. You wince, looking up to see a masked man. He tilts his head, blood coating his entire claw along with his suit.

You shuffle back along the floor, trying to get to your feet. But his boot comes down onto your chest, making you wheeze. “Aren’t you that chick who got away?”

“Different chick.” You wheeze out, scrabbling to get his foot off you.

“Nah, I remember the poster they put up in the lab. Your face is recognisable.” He presses harder against your chest. Your hand scrambles to the side, against the dirty floor. Find something. Anything.

Your hand finally clasps around a loose peice of metal. You tighten your hold, the sharpness cutting your palm. You swing your arm across, stabbing it into the guy’s calf.

It goes in deep, resulting in him lessening his boots hold. You manage to roll away, swiftly getting to your feet. He goes to lunge for you again, but your arm shoots out in a punch, right across his face. He stumbles slightly back.

But you seem to be more hurt then him. “Mother fu—“ you hiss, holding your now bruised knuckles. “Shit…why did I do that?” You mutter to yourself.

But you try not to dwell on the pain as you run past him and the others, finally reaching the switch. One hand is bloody while the other is bruised and you’ve never felt more relieved. You push the switch, a small whirring sound reaching your ears.

Then suddenly you catch sight of all the spider-people’s spider-senses turning back on, practically animated. But your relieved smile drops as practically all the masked men shift there gaze to you. Shit.

With all the turned heads, you catch Hobie’s turn as well. His spider-sense now taking note of you. His eyes widen in a mix of confusion, worry and anger? Wow you’ve never really seen him angry before.

Miguel takes note of you now as well now, as you shift your gaze to him, pressing your lips together as you breathe through your nose. Miguel’s expression is downright terrifying. You watch as he snaps one the masked men’s necks as he moves towards you.

You gulp, noticing some of the masked men move to you as well. You swiftly grab the small switch machine, and begin to back out of the room, or at least try to.

And just as a claw reaches for your face, an orange web yanks you aside, nearly making you tumble, but a tight hand wraps around your upper arm. “What the fuck are doing here?” Miguel lowly hisses out.

“Miguel— I have to go.” Mayday. You had to get to Mayday.

“No, no you can’t just go anywhere. You were already practically an enemy to these guy, but oh now they want to kill you.” He says this while slicing his claws across one of the guys throats—having tilted his head back to display the guys bare neck.

“Miguel.” You hiss. “Let go. I have to go.” You rush these words out.

But Miguel didn’t want to let go. You were bleeding, bruised, and almost dead. “Why didn’t you stay put? Why didn’t you stay goddamn put?” He growls.

You’re breathing hard. You had to go, and you didn’t have the time to explain. So you do the best thing you can think of. “I’m sorry about this...”

Your hand had reached for something on the a table, a plate, another peice of metal, whatever it was you knock it across his face. Not to cut, or harm, just so that his grip would loosen around your arm.

And it does, leaving you room to run. And god did you run—fast. You skirted past fighting people, the spider variants finally knocking some of the masked men down, now that the switch was off.

You reached the secret entrance, rushing into the tech room. You kept the switch machine close to you as you rushed to Mayday’s hiding place. You tried to slow your breathing, not wanting to freak her out. You wiped your bloody hand on your pants, wincing as your cut rubs against the material.

You didn’t want to scare her.

You reach the small cupboard type thing, having to lift yourself up. She had clearly webbed herself towards it. But with you being taller than her you managed. You took a breath. Pretending that you had been playing the entire time.

“Oh, Mayday.” You sing songed quietly. “I wonder where you are?”

You neared the closed cupboard door, hearing a faint giggle. You sigh in relief at the fact that she’s still here. You whip the doors open and you hear a small squeak. You scoop her up.

“Found you.” You said softly, earning now huffing giggles from her. She was okay. She was okay.

But then your heart drops. You hear heavy scuffing boots enter the room. No. Please no. Without thinking you rush into the cupboard, shutting the door.

Mayday begins to babble on about something, but you put her head into your neck. “Shh.” You shakily whisper. “Shh.” You stroke her hair. She moves a little, but luckily she begins to relax in your arms.

You can hear the taunting boots near. And you hold your hand over your mouth, quieting your heavy breathing. Please stay quiet Mayday, please stay quiet—you think to yourself, holding her closer to you, as you slide to the floor of the cupboard. It only just fit you both.

Then the door is getting harshly pulled open and your eyes widen. No, no, no. But then just as the masked man comes into view, his body is getting harshly lifted, his feet raising as blood bleeds out from his stomach. Your eyes widen.

Then he falls to the side, revealing a heaving Miguel. Your head knocks back against the cupboard back wall, as you hold Mayday tighter to you. You couldn’t let her see. Any of the blood, you wouldn’t let her see.

Miguel meets your gaze, just as Hobie, Pav, Gwen, Miles and Peter rush to a stop beside him, all staring into the cupboard.

You begin to shakily stand, still holding onto Mayday for dear life. You were scared. Your adrenaline slowly disappearing.

Peter rushes forward taking Mayday from you. He notices there isn’t a scratch on her and Peter is beyond relieved. “Make sure she doesn’t…see.” You say, sounding somewhat out of it as you blink, so your eyes would stay open.

Then Hobie is slipping his arm around your midriff, supporting your legs, as you gulped down arising tears. You wouldn’t cry. Not in front of everyone.

“What the hell was that?” For once there is no joke in Hobie’s tone.

Your eyes a blurring, but you wanted to stay awake. You hated how much your body could exhaust. “You were supposed to stay up here.” Miguel is saying, his breathing still heavy.

You know that you arriving back to the tech room, alerted that now dead masked man of where you were.

For once Miguel doesn’t mind that Hobie is holding you. He’s helping you. And though Miguel would rather help you, his hands are covered in blood—Hobie having used his surroundings and web to mainly fight them, his hands being rather clean from the red.

You half heartedly chuckle. “You can just say thanks.” You meet his gaze, a small smile edging your lips.

“Are they…” You drift off, Gwen filling in.

“They left. They aren’t dead. Some of them are. But the others…left.” She says, making you nod.

“Thank god.” You mutter out, the pain finally feeling like it can catch up to you. “And fuck…” You slightly push off of Hobie, shaking your bruised hand. “When were any of you gonna tell me that punching someone really fuckin’ hurts.”

“Well, usually punching someone with a metal head tends to hurt.” Pav says, raising his brows slightly.

“Eh.” You chuckle, continuing to flex your hand.

;;

Miguel didn’t leave your side when you went to medical, you getting stitched, and mended.

“Don’t sleep in here.” He says, gazing around at practically every spider person. The medical was of course packed.

“But the fire reached my room—“

“Not mine.” Miguel says, already slipping his arms around your body—though he keeps his hands, for the majority, off of you. His hands were still covered in blood, though dry, meaning the blood wouldn’t taint you, he still couldn’t.

“That’s fine—“

“Shut up, and move.” Miguel wasn’t looking for your acceptance, taking you to his room.

;;

Once inside, he shuts the door, leading you to sit on his bed. As you did, he had slightly begun to pace the length of his room.

“What are you doing?” You ask, watching his stressful state. “Can you stop?”

He shifts his gaze to you, semi stopping. His body was still tense, his jaw clenched. “Sit.” You say, gesturing to the chair. You narrow your gaze until he obeys, moving the chair to face you, as he took a seat.

Glass still slightly littered the ground, the slight scratch marks on the chair staying easily visible.

You noticed for a moment that he couldn’t look at you. His gaze instead getting caught up with his wrist. You glanced down at it, noticing a thin…bracelet? It was covered in blood, and he had begin to fiddle with it, making your brows furrow.

“What’s that?” You ask. But he still doesn’t meet your gaze, clenching his hand into a fist.

“Nothing.” He says. But it wasn’t nothing of course. It was your bracelet, the one he had found in your rooms doorway, back in your universe when you had went missing.

“I didn’t know you were one to wear jewellery.” You speak light heartedly. But he barely reacts. “Miguel.” You say, sighing. “Can you at least look at me?”

And it’s the slight sadness in your voice that makes him. He looks up and you’re shocked to see a million different emotions swirling in his eyes.

“Why did you do that?” He asks, now not looking away from your eyes.

“What?”

“That.” He hisses lowly. “You were supposed to stay in the tech room.”

“Miguel you do realise that I couldn’t have just stood there and literally watched…right?” You ask, seeing his gaze flicker everywhere on your face. “I saw something important, and thought i should help.”

“But you shouldn’t have.” He says.

“Yes, I should have…” You stand up now. Miguel moves to stand also, but you hold your hand out, making sure he stayed seated. “I want to help Miguel. I want to be of help.”

“Yeah, well you being of help nearly got you killed.” He snarls.

“Exactly the same as all of you.” You say, stepping closer to his seated self. “You guys go through so much dangerous stuff all the time. And finally when I can actually help you hate me for it.”

“Because you’re—“

“A weak human, yeah I got it. But I wanted to help. And It worked…none of you guys are dead!” You exclaim, breathing heavy.

Miguel stares up at you, his breathing close to matching yours.

“That is all I’ve ever wanted to do, Miguel.” You say. “Help.”

“You almost died out there.” His voice had begun to soften.

“And so did you!” Yours hasn’t yet, though.

He couldn’t resist. Slipping his hand under your thigh he pulled you towards him, making your body tumble. He caught you by a second grip on your other thigh, making sure you landed in a straddle over his lap. His legs were still a fraction spread, which made yours naturally spread further around him. This satisfied Miguel’s want to keep those legs spread. Wide and open for him.

He pulled you even closer, your body sliding along his thighs, right up against him. Your heart was beating like a drum in your ears. You couldn’t think. You couldn’t speak. All you could do was breathe and stare. Stare at Miguel’s piercing red eyes that now practically told you everything he hadn’t voiced yet.

Miguel stared at you, his eyes seeming to hood over on their own. You were yet again, so close. He could taste your breath. And he wanted to. God did he want to.

He’s sure it would taste so sweet. You would taste so fucking sweet. His clawed hands stayed wrapped around your thighs, as he began to lean in, his eyes focused on your freshly wet lips, your nervous habit. You were nervous. He met your gaze once more, before darting his eyes down again. He couldn’t stop leaning in.

Your heart has stopped, having been beating rapidly in your ears. You want to gulp down your nervousness but Miguel is now so close to your neck.

His warm breath fans over your skin as his mouth opens a fraction. His hands ran up your body, to grip around your waist. Then he leaned in, his lips attaching to the side of your neck. You heard him hum, the vibrations sending shivers up your spine.

His hands begun to slip under your shirt, the feel of your bare skin making him go practically insane. He couldn’t believe it. He began to slowly litter small kisses—at first—his breathing growing heavier and heavier.

Your chest was heaving as he pulled you tighter to him, his lips now pressing harder against your skin. When they turned open-mouthed you could feel the drag of his fangs, his tongue coming down to soothe forming bruises.

Your head had begun to roll back, your hands tightly gripped onto Miguel’s shoulders. “I couldn’t let you die, cariño.” He whisper-groaned into your neck. His panting breath only occasionally felt, because he couldn’t back away from your skin.

His kisses began to lead up to your jaw. You were flushed, your body hot, everywhere. “Miguel—“ you breathe out.

“Shh, I just wanna…I just…” but he couldn’t even finish the sentence as he reached to hover over your lips. His hand slipped to the back of your neck, his claws embedding themselves into your hair, as his other hand tightened a fraction around your waist.

Now you’re breathing hard, your eyes slightly glazed over, your mind utterly dazed as you stared at Miguel. “I just want to…”

You gulp. “Want to what?” You quietly asked, your own eyes flickering to his lips.

“I— carajo.” Was the last word he managed before his lips found yours, your head knocking back. Miguel wrapped his lips around your bottom, breathy groans easily escaping him, as he pulled you impossibly closer. His heart was beating on overdrive, nearly at a concerning tempo as he lapped at your mouth.

And god did you taste sweet. So fucking sweet. And he gets to feel you—have you. He doesn’t have a care in the world as long as you stayed this close. Right against him letting him keep you this close. Your tongue dragged across his bottom lip, soon finding his tongue. His head moved to push further against yours, as he swirled his tongue around your mouth.

Then your body slightly jolts. His hand that was gripping your waist had tightened to a point that his claws had cut you a fraction. Miguel immediately let your waist go, realising that his body’s reaction—tightening around you, was to make sure you wouldn’t leave. “I’m—“

But you’re cutting him off with another kiss, slightly raising on your knees, so that his head had to tilt up to stay kissing you. His hands slipped to wrap around your raised thighs. “Tell me you weren’t gonna apologise.” You spoke to his lips, leaning away a fraction.

But Miguel eagerly chased your mouth, managing to pull your head back down, with a swift grip to your hair. “Miguel—“

He shook his head, his lips brushing against yours. “If I say no, will you keep kissing me?” He tilted his head, lips still lightly brushing yours, as his tongue came out to lick your top lip. “Mm?”

“Yea—“ but Miguel cuts you off, kissing you hard as one of his hands stoked up and down your thigh. “Then I’m not sorry at all.” He muttered between kisses. He was addicted. That’s the simplest way to put it. Utterly addicted. “Dios…I’m not sorry.”

Your hands slipped around his neck, beginning to play with the ends of his brown hair, your fingers soon sinking to softly grip the strands. A breathy moan escapes Miguel’s lips at the feeling of your fingers, his mouth opening against your own. A small forming smile edged your lips at the reaction.

“Shut up.” He whispered, smashing his lips back to yours. His kisses had grown even more heated—if possible—spreading across your cheek, his nose brushing against your hair. “Dios, y/n, can I touch you…mm por favor…?” He asks, trying to pull your thighs back down onto him.

But you held your own, staying just out of reach—legs either side of him on the chair. When Miguel would much rather you pressed against him. Of course he was hard, aching almost painfully. “Y/n.” He lowly growled out.

You grabbed his chin, lifting his head up, as you teasingly pecked his lips. “I’ve never seen you beg, give me a moment to enjoy it.”

Miguel clenched his jaw as he harshly pulled your thighs further apart, making you gasp, landing right on top of him. He moved his hands to your hips, keeping you still, as his head slightly leant back at the feeling. “Mm…that’s it…” He whispered out.

You could feel his bulge right under you, making your core ache. Now you felt hot. And as you looked at a breathless Miguel, his chest heaving mismatched you couldn’t help but begin to slightly move your hips.

Miguel’s breathing hitches, his hands gripping your waist. “Y/n…”

“Shh.” You partially mocked, earning a small growl from Miguel. “Didn’t you say I had to do anything for you?” You moved your hips along him, grinding torturously. “This seems like it would certainly help.” Your tone is breathy, as your hips movements sends jolts through you both.

“For a…mission.” Miguel remembers the start of the deal—the conversation—correcting you, through heavy breaths. God, what were you doing…keep doing it.

“Which loosely means for you.” You copy his previous words.

His head slightly falls back. “Mierda, cariño…”

You go to place your hands on his chest, when his head comes back up, his grip slipping from your waist to your hips and managing to stop you. He leans towards your ear. “But do you really think I’m gonna let you grind on me like that? Make me pathetically reach my high with clothes…still on?”

Your breathing hitches. His hand reaches up your shirt again, but pauses by the side of your waist. Then before you know it, Miguel’s holding your thighs—wrapped around him—as he stands. You quickly wrap your hands around his neck thinking you would fall.

Miguel chuckles at the reaction, instead, effortlessly walking with you towards his bed. He leans forward, resting you down as his hands came to cage you in. You’re resting on your elbows, pushing a little higher up. Miguel leans even more forward, so that you’re forced to lean back with him.

“Lie back…eso es (that’s it)…that’s ma’ girl.” Miguel breathes, as your head rests back against his sheets. My girl. His girl. All of Miguel’s previous loud voices, the ones that had quietened when you hugged him have become one. Repeating the words—my girl, my girl, my girl.

my god, that was a trip. and finallyyyy! AHHH — I hope this is what you guys expected and hope you all liked it

I promise promise promise, I will carry on this smut on the next part <33 it was just getting so long—I couldn’t stop writing (I’m sorry guys I gotta keep eedging ya)

plus since it’s the last part (part 9) next, everything will be concluded, and all mysteries solved! coz that’s just plain cruel if I utterly leave you guys hanging

taglist: @dangerousdreamkitty @ale-maral @inosukesweirdwife @flooftoof @cynicallyaestetic @silassinclair @mariiyoushi @ilovedilfjake @toastlover21 @wlellsl @k1rbbo @bitchotine @guacam011y @blnk338 @wolfiepirate @kurxxmi @corpsebridenightamare @ohantonia @yunonaneko @irenered-20 @z3r0art @sunflowercandie @perilous-pasta @gloriouskryptonitecrown @whyamistillhere78 @ritzzzsblog @mm1sta @tealcoloured-murder @aweebsimp101 @livelaughlaurv @s0dium @roguepancake @sunshiines-stuff @internal-soundtrack @oscarisdaddy69 @clairacassidy @captainquake42 @nanaloverz @ilyless @sindulgent666 @shine101 @thebadasssass @hibeejibees @nirishin @ily2lia @lillunna @cinnamoncattie @futuristicpandakid @maroonobserver @thatsopanu @edgyficuselastica @kittekat420 @stararctic @maxi-ride @renn-pumkin-head @scaraza @justanotherkpopstanlol @fauxizs @cloudsandrenoswife @ilmovor @larissa-lolll @elliemm @httpkiyoomi @j2warren @arquiiva @ilovemiguelohara @a-monster-can-filled-with-cum @fandom-gal44 @elwyn7 @albiebright

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hopelesslygaysstuff · 11 months ago

Text

pairing: Wanda x fem!reader

summary: Wanda edges you, and you take it all like a good girl.

content warnings: whew, there’s a lot. Cunnilingus, fingering, choking, collar and leash play, choking, edging, spreader bar, restraints, overstimulation, vibrator, strap-on, passing out

word count: 4.6k+

masterlist

A/N: This was requested by @mrsromanovaa ! You can find the original request here.

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

Soon, Darling

“On the bed, darling. You know how I like you.”

Wanda’s voice is firm, her accent rolling over each syllable as you attempt to not shiver at the command. Without speaking, you nod once and move your shaky legs towards the massive bed in the center of the room. Approving green eyes watch your movement, even as her face remains unreadable.

Taking a few calming breaths, you position yourself on top of the soft comforter. You’re thankful for its dark maroon color, sure that you must be dripping as you move onto your back. After all, Wanda hadn’t been subtle with her teasing glances and forward touches throughout your date night. She knew which buttons to press, what words to say, and which times to whisper directly in your ear as you shivered beneath her.

Even thinking about the evening the two of you had shared brought a pleasant warm buzz to your chest, and you refused to acknowledge what that buzz could mean. Shaking yourself from your rapidly spiraling thoughts, you smiled gently at your girlfriend, pleased at the wink you received in return. Excitement filled you as she moved to kneel on the foot of the bed, her fingers grazing your ankles as her eyes began to glow scarlet.

Oh yeah, your girlfriend had totally awesome powers. And, she wasn't shy about using them around you. Suck on that, Vision.

Wanda twisted her fingers, an object slapped into the palm of her hand, and all thoughts of her ex boyfriend left your mind as you realized what she held. The two of you had talked in depth about different things to try in the bedroom, but seeing it in person was slightly terrifying. But, also incredibly arousing at the same thing.

You refused to think about what that meant for your psyche.

The spreader bar was placed between your spread ankles, Wanda’s knees just barely touching it as she began to run her hands over your calves, fingers light and teasing. Oh, you were definitely dripping now.

Evidently, Wanda could either see the evidence right before her eyes, a smile creeping onto her face as you willingly spread your legs further for her, or she could smell it. That was one of her favorite phrases to say, and one that never failed to turn you on even more than you already were.

“God, you smell divine. Is that all for me?” She’d ask, and you’d somehow find yourself giving her every part of you that you had to offer. Sometimes you wondered how the events of an evening had unfolded, your brain went a little bit too fuzzy sometimes, only remembering how you felt during the experience. Wanda would reassure you, telling you that subspace was normal and nothing to be afraid of, and of course, you believed her.

“Darling?”

Ah, there you went again. Getting trapped in your own head. It wasn’t your fault that you got lost in a train of thought. Or, maybe it was. Actually, thinking about it, it was totally your fault because it was your own head, right? And-

“Focus, love.” Wanda’s voice cut through your inner monologue, halting your thoughts immediately. In the space of a millisecond, you felt your brain get squeezed through a tube, the bedroom becoming sharper as you seemed to re-enter your own body. Green eyes peered down at you, searching your own as Wanda’s fingers gently stroked your face.

“Sorry, I,” You didn’t get the chance to speak, Wanda’s finger pressing gently against your lips, understanding in her eyes.

“It’s alright darling, are you ready to continue?” Her voice was low, reminding you of the heat pooling in your gut. You felt another wave of arousal, and nodded quickly.

“Yes.”

“Good girl.” Wanda smiled approvingly, and you were grateful for the single lamp that glowed warmly in the corner of the room. At least she wouldn’t be able to see most of the blush that spread across your cheeks. Then again, judging by her knowing gaze, she definitely knew what her words did to you.

Moving slowly, as if not to scare you, Wanda moved her hands firmly up and down your calves. It seemed almost as if she was giving you a massage, but when she grasped one ankle firmly while bringing one end of the spreader bar towards it, you knew that you were in for a long night.

“Too tight?”

You shook your head, eyes wide as you experimentally flexed your ankle. The strap attached to you didn’t budge, and you could feel the tension of the metal rod as Wanda moved to attach the rest of the spreader bar to your other ankle. She gripped the middle of the metal, giving it an experimental tug.

Your body jolted, hips moving closer towards your girlfriend as she pulled you closer by the spreader bar. Her smile was nothing short of wicked, and you shivered at the hungry look in her eyes as they roamed your helpless body. At least your hands were free.

Wanda gave you a look, twisting her fingers once again as your wrists were wrapped in scarlet wisps and pulled tight against the headboard. You sighed, of course she was in your head, the tricky little witch.

“Behave.” She commanded, and you resisted the temptation to roll your eyes, knowing that would only bring punishment. You really didn’t want that, not after the hours of teasing she’d put you through during dinner.

“Please, Wanda.”

“That’s not my name.” Her eyes were hot, fixed on your body as you squirmed slightly beneath her watchful gaze. The tension rolling in your gut was becoming overwhelming, and your clit throbbed as you feebly thrusted your hips towards her.

“Please…” You begged, taking a deep breath, calming your racing heartbeat.

Raising a single eyebrow, Wanda tilted her head. Your heart jump started, racing once again at the movement. Her hands moved teasingly over your inner thighs, fingers mere centimeters away from your messy pussy. She was teasing you, the promise of her fingers finally granting you the relief you so desperately needed sending you over the edge of embarrassment.

“Mommy…” You knew it sounded pathetic, but you couldn’t really control how your voice sounded at the moment.

Wanda was pleased, a low sounding hum reverberating through her chest as she thought about her next moves. You waited patiently, knowing that this was the moment that she would decide if she was going to tease you for the rest of the night, or give in and pleasure you until you begged her to stop.

Both options sounded great to you, so you weren’t too worried about the outcome of her decision.

Deciding to test the strength of the newest restraint, you tried to push your ankles together. Your legs didn’t move an inch, and you realized that you were well and truly fucked if Wanda decided to tease you. There was no escaping, no matter how hard you tried.

Again, you really didn’t want to think about what that could possibly mean.

“I think,” Wanda started, and your ears immediately perked up. “I think that I need a blindfold.”

After announcing that very helpful and definitely not-at-all frustrating announcement, Wanda got off the bed, smirking at you as she made her way into your shared walk-in closet. You sighed, throwing your head against the pillows as you tried to control your reaction to her words. You knew exactly which drawer she was rummaging around in, and thinking about the multitude of toys within it made you want to squeeze your thighs together. Anything to reduce the unbearable ache between your legs.

Oh, wait. You couldn’t. Wanda had made sure of that with a high quality spreader bar. You moved your legs again, realizing the only thing you could do was bring your knees towards your chest. No matter what you tried, you couldn’t get your legs to fully close.

Giving up, you steadfastly ignored the rush of arousal accompanied by juices flowing from your pussy at the knowledge that your legs were permanently open for your girlfriend. In all honesty, you wouldn’t have it any other way. More arousal leaked down your inner thighs, and you smirked at the thought of what Wanda would say when she found a puddle of your own arousal beneath you.

“You know,” Wanda’s voice startled you, and your eyes greedily took in her naked form as she made her way towards you. You didn’t imagine the extra sway to her hips, and you licked your lips as she moved to kneel beside you on the bed.

Cold hands caressed your face briefly before Wanda placed a strip of fabric securely over your eyes, tying the back of it tightly as you raised your head helpfully. She continued speaking, even as you felt her weight shifting around on the mattress.

“I’ve been thinking,” She moved towards your ankles, settling herself between your legs. Her hands gripped the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, kneading the muscles. “I want to use my mouth tonight, my tongue feels restless.”

You groaned, the sound coming out as more of a moan as Wanda chuckled somewhere near your drenched pussy. The last time she’d used her mouth, you almost passed out from the sheer amount of pleasure she had brought you, your clit over sensitive for the rest of the evening.

Before you could properly prepare yourself, her tongue was pressed against you. She moaned, the vibrations hitting you perfectly as you tried not to roll your hips.

Wanda liked it when you were still, or at least attempting to be still. She’d spent weeks training you, edging you for each movement you made while she slowly traced your clit with a single finger. You knew better than to move your hips while she was pleasuring you.

But holy fuck did it feel good.

It was almost enough for you to forget yourself, and forget all the training that Wanda had drilled into you. But you refrained, wanting to be as good as possible for her. After all, bad girls didn’t get to cum.

You wanted to cum. Very, very badly.

Wanda began flicking her tongue against your clit, the deep ache within you rising like a wildfire. The flames of your orgasm licked at your skin, and you let out a long moan that was supposed to be a plea. You felt her chuckle against you, her fingers digging into your hips as she buried her face deeper against your swollen pussy.

Certain that you would find bruises all over your hips the next morning, you experimentally shifted your weight. The steady pressure of Wanda’s tongue against your protruding clit stopped, and you choked down the complaint that threatened to escape you.

“Why did you move, sweetheart?” Wanda’s eyes gazed imploringly at you, but you wouldn’t fall for it. Her tone was sugary sweet, but you sensed a trap. “Didn’t mommy teach you better?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to!” You winced at how breathy you sounded. It was pathetic, but Wanda’s fingers relaxed slightly from their tight grip on your hips, so you continued. “I forgot myself, you just make me feel too good, mommy. You’re very talented with your tongue, please do it some more.”

You felt like it was a bit overboard, but Wanda seemed satisfied and you were willing to do almost anything to cum. Strong fingers twitched against you, and you stiffened as you realized that Wanda was still in your thoughts.

‘Emphasis on the word almost.’

A small smirk worked its way onto Wanda’s face, even though you couldn’t see it, but you felt it against you as she began sloppily making out with your glistening pussy. Her tongue slipped roughly against your clit as your juices coated her chin. You were like a drug to her, your taste both invigorating and addicting at the same time.

Wanda couldn’t get enough. She could stay between your thighs for hours, reading your body language with each new stroke of her tongue, the sounds of your sighs and whispered moans wrapping around her head and pulling her headfirst into the very essence of you.

It took everything in her to pull away from you, the tell-tale signs of your impending orgasm too overwhelming to ignore. Besides, she wanted to play with you for a little while. Also, you were adorable when you panted and tried not to squirm, chasing the last few droplets of pleasure she could draw from you before pulling fully away.

“Mommy, please…” Your voice was whiny, and it only took a millisecond before you realized your mistake.

“Good girls don’t complain,” Wanda summoned something, a piece of fabric that you couldn’t quite make out. Her eyes bore into yours as she continued, “Mommy doesn’t want to hear that, and you know better. Haven’t I been good to you? Aren’t I making you feel good? Soon, darling.”

Before you could say anything, the fabric she was holding was stuffed into your open mouth. Letting out a soft grunt as you readjusted your jaw, you stifled a moan as the taste of Wanda’s arousal hit your tongue.

Pulling off the beautiful form fitting dress she wore, Wanda smirked as you realized what piece of clothing she’d summoned. She felt a wave of possessiveness enter your mind as you eagerly sucked on her ruined panties, your thoughts swirling at the knowledge that you had made her this wet.

Pulling your ankles up, Wanda slipped between the spreader bar and your body, letting the backs of your thighs rest atop her own as she kneeled before you. Her hand drifted, teasing fingers tracing your hip bone as she admired the glistening heat between your legs.

Letting her gaze travel over your body, she admired every inch of your skin as she made her way towards your face. Wanda knew that she would never get tired of looking at you, her eyes eagerly taking in every curve and contour of your body, mapping out different paths as you flushed beneath her.

Green eyes finally met yours, and you saw her smile. Her fingers brushed over your mound, grazing your clit and collecting some of the wetness pooling between your thighs. A single finger traced your slit, teasing you as she chuckled.

“Did you want something?”

You let out a huff of air through your nose, tilting your head as you stared at her. Taking a chance, you let your hips move slightly. It was just enough to wordlessly plead with her, begging her to soothe the ache between your legs.

A single finger entered you in one thrust, burying itself knuckle deep in your pussy, and you nearly sobbed in relief. You let out a long moan, letting Wanda know just how pleased you were, and missed the smirk that flashed across her face. Your eyes were closed, head thrown back as she began to move at a steady pace, curling her finger every so often and grazing that spot inside you that sent bolts of pleasure coursing through you.

It was just enough, the perfect pace to sate the hunger that had been slowly building within you.

The thrusts increased, Wanda adding a second finger as she watched your face contort around the makeshift gag. The pleasure changed, becoming overwhelming as your orgasm attempted to rise. You knew by now that Wanda wasn’t going to let you cum just yet, and despaired at the thought of being brought to the edge again.

“Mnnfh, plmh mmhmm.” Your attempt at words turned into a groan, and Wanda let out a low hum. Her other hand reached up, wrapping around your throat loosely as she curled her fingers inside of you.

“Soon, darling.”

The pleasure just kept building, your clit throbbing as it begged for attention. If she would just touch it, anything would help you fall over the edge. It took everything in you to not roll your hips, any attempt at repositioning so Wanda’s hand would go where you wanted would be met with a complete absence of touch.

Pleased at your self restraint, Wanda gave a few more deep thrusts before removing her fingers completely. Before you could whine, or even process her movement, she tore her panties from your parted lips, shoving her fingers onto your waiting tongue as she bent down.

The taste of your own arousal hit you, mixing pleasantly with the aftertaste of Wanda’s juices. Then, you felt a tongue licking gently at your aching pussy, collecting as much of your arousal as it could. You felt her tease your clit, circling it softly, and lamented at the lack of pressure.

Wanda worked you up again, her fingers slowly moving in and out of your mouth as your tongue swirled around them. It was an effective gag, small moans escaping you as her tongue steadily applied more pressure. Your orgasm reappeared, and you desperately wished that you could close your legs around Wanda’s head. Anything to keep her where you needed her most.

Almost as if she was reading your mind (oh, wait), Wanda pulled away. Pleasure coursed through you, fading quickly as the stimulation ended, and you let out a whimper.

“Color?” Wanda asked, her voice soft as her fingers twisted again. A vibrator floated into her grasp, your eyes tracking it as you uttered a muffled ‘green’. You recognized that toy, it was one of Wanda’s favorites. The settings were adjustable using a knob, so she could set it at any intensity she wanted.

“Do you want to cum?” Wanda asked, pulling her fingers from you briefly to let you respond. You opened your mouth, the pleas about to spill out, when the vibrator was placed directly against your clit.

Jolting, you breathed heavily, and Wanda just raised an eyebrow. She hadn’t even turned the toy on yet, but just the smallest amount of pressure against your throbbing clit was sending you headfirst into subspace.

“Yes, please.” You didn’t care how desperate you sounded, the only thing in your fuzzy mind was the thought of finally falling over that edge. The one she’d kept you on for hours. The one that would rack your body with pleasure, the edge that only your girlfriend could help you fall over.

The vibrator clicked on, and you felt your legs start to shake. Wanda’s hand held the toy firmly against your clit, her other gently rolling your nipple between her fingers. You recognized the setting as relatively low, but it still sent pleasure shooting through what seemed like every nerve in your body.

“Would you like to try something, darling?” Wanda asked, and you struggled to try and respond. She continued, “We talked about it earlier this week, remember the package we ordered?”

Your eyes lit up in recognition, a feeble nod the only thing you could manage. You remembered the soft red collar and leash that you both had liked, but hadn’t expected it to arrive so soon.

“Call it an early Christmas gift.” Wanda’s voice was soft, full of caring as she watched your reaction.

“I want to try it,” You said, your voice as strong as you could make it. Wanda’s eyes lit up, crinkling at the edges as she smiled widely at you. Evidently, she thought that the perfect response was cranking up the vibrations against your clit.

You shuddered beneath her, hands grasping uselessly at the magical restraints as the pleasure became overwhelming. You were mere seconds away from your orgasm, you could feel the beginning stages of it creeping up on you as your muscles went rigid.

Wanda pulled away, and your clit protested by pulsing rapidly. She paid you no mind, letting you thrust your hips feebly as she summoned a few more items. They all moved to rest neatly on the bed, and Wanda held up the red collar.

Her touch was almost reverent, stroking the soft leather and ensuring that it wouldn’t bite into your sensitive skin. Your eyes locked on it, watching as she brought it closer to your neck. Nodding your consent, you felt your heart race wildly as she fastened it securely.

Two fingers curled around the leather, sticking themselves between the collar and your skin to ensure it wasn’t too tight. Tugging experimentally, Wanda’s eyes snapped to yours when you let out a moan.

“That felt really good.” You breathed out, pupils blown as Wanda gave it another tug. This one was more forceful, and you felt your clit throb as more of your arousal leaked onto the mattress.

The smile on Wanda’s face should have scared you, it was dark and wide. Ideas and fantasies swirled behind her green irises, but the only thing you felt was excitement. And extreme arousal, but what’s new?

Metal clinked, and you watched in anticipation as Wanda clipped the leash to the gold loop attached to the front of the collar. She wrapped the leash around her hand, once and then twice.

“Fuck.” You almost didn’t realize that you had spoken, the word slipping out as Wanda gave the harshest tug yet.

A scene of Wanda tugging the leash while fucking you from behind flashed behind your eyelids as you took some steadying breaths. You longed to feel the collar pressing against your throat, whenever Wanda would use her hand to choke you, it always made your orgasm much more powerful. It really heightened all of the sensations you felt, and you couldn’t wait to use the collar more often.

“Would you like to try that, darling?” Wanda’s voice filtered through your thoughts, and you flushed as you remembered her presence in your mind.

“Yes, please.” You sounded eager, your eyes bright as Wanda chuckled and twisted her fingers once again.

After some maneuvering, you were on your front. Your hands were still securely attached to the headboard by unrelenting wisps of scarlet magic. Wanda urged you to your knees, the spreader bar making it impossible to close your legs.

Something pressed against you from behind, and you immediately remembered the strap-on that Wanda had brought over. Either she had already lubed up, or you were soaked, because she slid the entire length of the toy into you in one stroke.

A moan escaped you, muffled by the pillow you pressed your face into at the feeling of her strap fully inside you. It was everything you’d been waiting for, your walls clinging to the toy as she began snapping her hips. Fucking into you, Wanda experimentally tugged on the leash, and your head rose unwillingly from the pillow.

“Oh,” She said, her voice raspy as she tugged again. A strangled whimper sounded out, a gush of wetness hitting her thighs as she easily slid in and out of your slick pussy. “I like this collar on you very much.”

“This was a great idea,” You agreed, all your senses heightened as she choked you from behind.

With white knuckles, Wanda pulled on the leash as hard as she dared, not wanting to go too far during your first time using the collar. Using it as leverage, she angled her hips, thrusting deeper inside you, the toy hitting your g-spot perfectly.

Your orgasm builds once more, pleasure spreading from your over-used pussy to the rest of your trembling body. Words left your mouth, but you couldn’t quite make out what you were saying. It was most likely broken pleas and moans, a desperate attempt at convincing Wanda to let you cum.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to cum without her permission, or even without her helping fall over the edge. Sure, you’d tried masturbating, even though it was explicitly against her rules. However, you weren’t able to make yourself cum, not after your body had gotten used to Wanda’s touch.

“Please, mommy. Please let me cum. I’ve… fuck. I’ve been so good for you, haven’t I? I really want to cum, I can’t take it anymore. Please, no more edging.” Your voice gave out quickly, moans replacing your words as Wanda seemed to fuck you harder.

“Fuck,” Wanda grunted, tugging the leash again. “You have been good for me, darling. And because you begged so prettily for me, I’ll let you cum.”

Her next words were muttered right in your ear. “You can cum as many times as you want.” She placed a harsh kiss against your neck, most definitely leaving a bruise that would last for days. Then, she kneeled up straight, her hips snapping steadily as the strap forced every drop of pleasure out from your aching pussy.

“Cum.”

Almost as if your body had been waiting for that command, your orgasm washed over you. It was unrepentant, waves of pleasure racking your body as you all but collapsed. Wanda’s firm hold on your leash kept you from suffocating yourself in the pillows, the sensation of being choked only heightening your orgasm. Everything felt more vivid, Wanda’s fingernails digging into your hip, her strap slamming into your gushing pussy, your nipples dragging along the silky fabric beneath you with each thrust.

Wanda’s hold on the leash slackened, and you sucked in deep breaths as blood rushed to your head. Your orgasm kept dragging on, the constant stimulation from the strap-on triggering a second one.

The hum of a vibrator sounded out, and you half whimpered and half moaned. Your clit throbbed, and you wanted to scream. Wanda placed the vibrator against it, the sensitive nub having emerged from its hood a long time ago.

White stars filled your vision, your limbs turning to jelly as a third, powerful orgasm ripped through you. The waves of pleasure quickly turned painful, Wanda’s hips not slowing for a second as she twisted the knob higher on the vibrator.

You came again.

And again.

Pain and pleasure melded together. The only thing you could sense was Wanda’s presence, everything else fading as she forced your body to cum again. Her hand tugging your leash, her collar wrapped tightly around your neck. Her skin, slapping against yours as she forced the strap deeper.

Her voice, sounding out. Her words, not registering as you came again. Her hand, twisting your face towards her as your vision started to darken. Her eyebrows, threaded together.

Her eyes, that lovely shade of green, forever ingrained in your mind.

And then, nothing.

—-

“Darling, I need you to wake up. Please.”

A cool hand was stroking your cheek, shaking as it wiped away tears that you hadn’t realized you’d shed. Warm breath hit your lips as Wanda sighed in relief, your eyes fluttering open.

Everything was blurry, but your lips still turned upwards. Smiling goofily up at Wanda, you attempted to move. Your limbs felt like lead, your muscles sore as you twisted a strand of her auburn hair between your fingers.

“I was so worried,” Wanda began, but you shushed her.

“Don’t,” Your voice was hoarse, and you cleared your throat. “I enjoyed every second of that, Wanda. I promise.”

“Are you sure?”

Wanda’s voice wobbled, her eyes concerned as she moved to lay down next to you. You threw your leg over her hip somewhat clumsily, still feeling as though your limbs were deadweight. Tucking your face into the crook of her neck, you inhaled deeply, letting her vanilla scent wash over you.

“I’m absolutely positive,” You reassured her, already feeling your eyes closing again. “Now let’s just cuddle for a bit, and then you can order us food while I get the shower ready in, um, about an hour.”

And with that, you promptly fell asleep.

Wanda smiled, stroking your hair as you curled around her. Honestly, how did she get so lucky? She thought about the ring sitting hidden in her office desk drawer, and felt a wave of love overtake her as you pulled her closer in your sleep.

She just had to wait until after the holidays. Soon, you would be her wife. Wanda couldn’t wait for that day to come.

Soon.

—-

Dm or comment to be added!

Taglist: @alexawynters @msvenablesbitch @marilynthornhilllover @lifespectator @milkeeteaa @imnotawitch @marvels--slut @justabrokensunshine

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gojo-mochi · 1 year ago

Text

Asking JJK Men if you could watch them jerk off (Part 2; With: Nanami, Sukuna, and Choso)

CW: Fem!Reader!. Choso have facial Piercing and nipple piercings, usage of nicknames (Baby, darling, love, honey..). Sukuna’s part is a bit mean, light pain and pinching on his part. Lots of drooling/spit. Some choking. Vibrartos usage. Oral F!Recieving. Face sitting. Slight Angst on Choso’s part.

WC:4.3k

A/N: Whew! After this one I’m gonna work on my dec fic catalog so imma be busy… gomen.. Part 1 here!

Nanami:

You miss him when he has to work overtime. He always wakes up early as well. Leaving you still wrapped in the blankets, swaddled and cozy, planting a sweet kiss on your forehead, and tucking some hair behind your ear. “I’ll see you later, my dear.” He whispered, careful not to wake you up. Some days you try to get the best of him, doing your best to wake up earlier or at least at the same time as him. But he easily trapped you back in the bed when you stumbled out to greet him as he’s getting dressed, putting the tie on, your arms hugging his waist as your head nuzzles the middle of his shoulders. His heartbeat a nice lullaby for your weary self. He chuckles softly at the feeling of your voice mumbling out, “Good morning…”.

Your eyes still closed to the world, he turns around and captures you in his arms, giving you more kisses this morning for your effort. Rubbing your noses together as he leans his forehead against yours and just takes in your scent. He stayed like this for a while, with you in his arms, gently swaying you back and forth. It was never enough, though. You both always craved more time together, but Nanami was always the bad guy in this situation. As he carries you up in his arms, princess style, placing you back in the bed as you complain, your hands catch on his tie as he gets the blanket and tucks you in.

His hand enveloped yours, bringing it up to his lips, kissing each knuckle with a spoken apology right after. He can’t promise you that he will be home early today, so he doesn’t say anything more, not wanting to lie and bring your hopes up. He leaves you in the bed once more, the warmth of it quickly fading away once Nanami leaves. You don’t hate him for it; you know he’s doing this for the both of you—for you and him to have an early retirement and live freely on the beach of Malaysia. Still, it was getting harder and harder without him, especially with his work being more demanding on him lately.

You got up later in the day, about an hour after Nanami left. You got ready for your own day, doing the daily items on your list, grocery shopping, cleaning, and everything else to keep your mind occupied. However, nearing the end of the day, Nanami still wasn’t home, giving you a heads-up in a text that he needed to stay after work again to finish a project. You sighed but texted him back that his dinner was on the counter and just needed warming up when he got back home. You resigned back to your empty bedroom, collapsing on the bed and staring at the ceiling. Thoughts of the morning come flooding to your mind—how vast and broad Nanami’s shoulders were when you hugged him.

How good he smelled just coming out of the shower; His hair was perfectly styled as usual but still damp in some areas that you just wanted to run your fingers through. The look he gave you as you tugged on his tie made you slip a hand down your shorts, starting to card through your folds as wetness built in between them. Your mind went to your sweet husband, wanting him now more than ever. Your hand went on autopilot as it picked up your phone and dialed his number. Nanami was a bit shocked to see you calling him so late; his heart skipped a beat, wondering if you were in danger. He hastily picks up your call, only to be greeted by your soft moans echoing thru the line. His pants immediately tightened up. “Honey, are you alright?” He breathes out, a part of him still worried. You respond with a gasp and another soft moan of his name. “Kento, I miss you. I need you so badly..” Nanami closed his eyes, his free hand balling into a fist on his thigh, irritated at his boss and work for keeping him away from his sweet, pretty wife. “Can I see you?” You whimpered out, a finger slipping in your core as you asked him.

Nanami looked around him; the office was dark, and the only illumination was the glow from his desktop. He takes the phone and leans it back against his desktop, pressing the video call button. Laid back on the bed with your phone close to your face, you get a nice view of Nanami’s flushed face as the video turns on. His hands come to undo his ties as his baritone voice calls to you. “Show me the mess you’re making, darling.” Your eyes flutter at his command, angling the phone down to show Nanami how you’re playing with yourself. “Only using your hands? Go get that toy I brought you for your birthday, love.”

You groan, slipping out your soaked fingers and taking this time to fully take off your shorts as you go find the cute little pink vibrartor that Nanami gifted you a while back. You showed it to him on the camera as he praised you, but before you turned it on, you asked him meekly. “Can I see you touch yourself too?” He raises an eyebrow at that, sucking in a breath. you think that was the wrong move to make and were about to retract your question when Nanami takes his phone back in his hand and scoots back in his chair. Giving you a full view of the tent bulging in his suit pants, his other hand undoing his belt. “We’ll do it together, alright?”

You nodded even though Nanami couldn't see you at the moment. Though he could hear the small vibrations as you turned on the bullet, you sat up on the bed, back against the headrest, legs spread. One hand angling the phone towards the front of your pussy while the other holds the bullet close to the clit. You wait for Nanami to be done first, your eyes never leaving your phone screen, as you watch the veins on his hand moving along with his fingers as he unzips and brings out his leaking cock. His watch on his wrist jiggles a little as he brings his cock up to full mast.

Palming the front of his cock as Nanami timbres out, “Slowly now, dear, I want to see you twitch for me.” Your body moved on his words alone, bringing the little bullet directly on your clit, following his directions as Nanami started to lightly fist the tip of his cock in his hand. “Do it in circles like how I did it, love, mmm, good girl..” A deep sigh comes from Nanami as he watches you soak the vibrartor, “God-fuckkk, bet you wish that was my hand, don’t you, dear?” He slowly starts to palm at his whole length this time, twisting his hand at the base the way he’s like you to do it.

“I've been neglecting you, haven’t I? I’m sorry, dear, I’ll make it up as soon as I’m home.”

“I’ll make sure that your pussy still remembers the shape of my cock in her.”

“I miss your pretty mouth on me too, and I miss tasting you as well.”

“Fuck-I think I’ll take the whole day off tomorrow and spend them between your legs.”

Nanami’s dulcet and deep voice made you all the wetter, your hand covered in your own arousal as he commanded you to keep the bullet on your clit. The video was shaking as you started to feel a tightness in your belly, one that you needed for a long time. “Ken-Kento!” He groans out with you, as his name falls from your sweet lips. “That's it, my love, I want to see you squirt for me.” With that final push, your thighs buck up as you squirt in front of the camera, wetting your phone, leaving droplets of your juice on the camera lens.

A cute whine came from you as you calmed down, throwing the bullet to the side and bringing the phone back up to your face. Nanami praised you once more for being such a good girl, hissing softly as he pushed his cock back in his pants. When you questioned him about why he didn’t finish, He replies, “I can’t waste any of my cum here, I plan to fill you up when I’m home, so be a good girl and keep her nice and wet for me..”

Sukuna:

You thought he would deny you when you asked him. Thinking of something along the lines of; “Huh? Why would I use my own hands when I have your pretty mouth to use whenever I want?”. You were pleasantly surprised but wary when Sukuna agreed to do it so readily, that handsome but very punchable smirk wormed its way into his face as he crooned at you. “Who am I to deny my sweet girl her needs~?” He leans back, propping his elbow on the chair and resting his cheek on it as he stares down at you. A soft and delicate pout forming on his feature, his eyebrow creasing in so slightly as he asked you, asked, not commanded, “Could you help me get ready for it though, sweetness?”

Your senses were screaming at you that this was a very horrible and obvious trap. But how could you resist those sweet, honeyed words, even if they were coming from a fanged mouth with a snake tongue. “Of course I’ll help.” And with that, the pact was sealed, and so was your fate. Sukuna yanks you on his lap the moment your words end, pulling you flush against his chest, facing forward so you couldn’t see the wicked grin on his face as he tears your clothes apart with his pointed fingernails. “Kuna!” You try to get off of his lap, but he easily traps you in with one bicep around your middle as his other hand wraps around your neck.

A firm hold with little pressure behind it, only a light squeeze as a warning not to act up again. “You said you were going to help me, right?” He didn’t give you the right to respond, forcing your head up and down in a nod as he cooed at you, praising you like you were the one that answered. “Good, now shut up and do as I say.” He lets go of your throat, letting the tip of his fingernail swipe along the side as another warning to behave. He finishes tearing at your shirt and your shorts, leaving you only in tattered dressing and your undies. His bicep flexes taunt as he leers down at your body.

A small growl emitting from his chest, the rumbling felt directly on your back, sending shivers throughout your body. He plays with your bra for a bit, cupping the fabric and thumbing over the part right over your nubs. Making you squirm and wiggle right on his bulge as he ruts up into you. Almost making you bounce off if not for his arm draped around your center, yanking you back in each time. A wet spot was already forming in the middle of your panties from all the friction Sukuna was giving you. He let out a booming chuckle, licking a stripe down your neck to your shoulder and nipping at your bra straps, his sharp canines breaking it apart easily.

Switching sides to bite at the other strap and tossing your now broken and useless bra to the side, you thought about scolding him for doing that, since bras are not cheap, but any form of coherence was also tossed away as his nails came back to rip at your soaked panties now. Leaving you fully exposed on Sukuna’s lap, he placed your thighs over his so he could spread you apart, his fingers coming to do the same on your soaked lips. Your arms hugged around the bicep that was holding you down, biting back a yelp as Sukuna’s nails poked and prodded at your clit.

A thin line between pain and pleasure was forming, a line that Sukuna knew exactly how to thread. Pushing you to the brink of tears by pinching at it, only to soothe away the pain by softly rubbing your clit. Collecting your arousal on the rough pads of his thumb and forefinger, nipping at the soft flesh of your neck, leaving marks that will stay there for days. Once he deems you wet enough, he’ll take away his hand, leaving your pussy to flutter and clench over nothing, your arms squeezing onto his bicep still, weak and restrained to Sukuna’s whims. Sukuna stood up with you still held on his chest, only for a short while, as he undoed the tie on his robe, wearing no boxers or any kind of undies underneath.

His cock springs out, heavy, red, and leaking, curving up slightly towards you. He’ll sit back down, making sure your thighs are spread open again, and tap his cock against your soaked entrance. Coating the back of his cock with your juices for a bit, even nudging the tip against your throbbing clit as you claw at his bicep, sweet whimpering pleas spilling out of your lips as you begged him for more. “Kunaaaaaa.” He nipped at your ear at your whining, “Hush, brat. We haven’t even gotten to the show yet.” You felt him smirk against your skin as he cupped your chin, forcing you to open your mouth and face downward.

Getting a full view of his cock lined up by your entrance, his breath caresses your ear as he utters out. “Drool on it, brat. Make it sloppy, and don’t you dare spit, or else.” With his fingers squishing your cheeks in, making your lips parts open. You couldn’t form a reply, only feeling a wave of hot embarrassment overcome you as you felt salvia pool inside your mouth. You gurgle out something, trying to jolt your head away from this shame,only for Sukuna to tighten his hold on you. Pushing your head down further as a languid string of spit sluggishly comes out.

It drips all the way down, still connected to your lips, as it hits the tip of Sukuna’s thick head. You could only watch, mortified, as the rest of your drool came out, some of it splitting off and hitting your belly. The sensation made you do a gurgling sort of whimper. Sukuna tugs your head back against his shoulder, pleased with the outcome. Laughing outright at the look on your face, “Aww, is the brat ashamed?” He crooned at you, fingers still pinching in on your cheeks as he licked away some of the slobber left on your chin. Only to leave his own wet spit on there. “Chin up, sweetie, the show can finally begin now~”

He looks down, trailing his huge hand down from your cheeks, to your chest, to your stomach, and finally on his heated cock. Fisting it up and down slowly, rutting his hips up a bit, to bounce up forward so your pussy was grinding on it as he jerked himself off. The veins and girth of his cock were enough to make you mewl out in pleasure. Your soft, needy mews falling together with Sukuna’s low groans. It didn’t take long for Sukuna to stop using his hands, opting to bring your thighs together and squish the soft plush flesh around his length. Bouncing his legs up and down and basically using your thighs as his fleshlight.

A hand comes down in between to rub and pinch at your clit some more, not stopping once you were on the edge this time, your body writhing in his hold, arching off his chest as you cream all over his cock. Clenching over nothing as your legs still held together, his hot cock ready to burst soon after you. With a guttural growl, Sukuna’s releases his cum, spilling all over the top of your thigh. This isn’t exactly what you asked for but who are you to question the King? Not you, especially not when your mind was going blank as he began to push his fat tip inside… “Now for my reward, you're lucky I’m so giving, brat…”

Choso:

Choso was the sweetest, most caring, and most dedicated boyfriend you could ask for. He was a little bit clingy at times, but you enjoyed the attention he gave you. Your sweet, lovable, big guard dog of a boyfriend that looms over your shoulder silently whenever you’re talking to strangers or even your friends outside .His stern demeanor only cracks when his younger brother is around, his shoulders less tense but still placing a hand on your waist as a reminder to everyone of who you belong to. His fingers twitch a little whenever Yuji comes too close to you or gives you a bear hug.

Don’t get him wrong, he loves that you get along with his brothers so closely, the idea of all of you being a close family together makes his heart swell. Though there was always that little nagging voice in the back of Choso’s head, stating that you’re too good for him and that you’ll leave him one day. So he always stands near you, a hand on you, the need to feel you there on his skin, to feel the blood coursing thru your veins, to know that you’re still here with him. Any stranger looking at the two of you would think that Choso would be the mean and domineering type of boyfriend.

With his multiple facial piercings, shadowy and ominous aura, and the dark makeup around his eyes, he gives off a pretty bad first impression. When it’s just the two of you alone, in the privacy of your own home. Choso turns from a menacing guard dog to a whiny puppy, always craving your attention. The two of you were relaxing on the bed, Choso on top of you, snuggling against your soft belly as you carded your finger thru his hair, the twin tails he usually wears gone. His hair cascading down his face, framing him in a way that makes him seem so vulnerable.

Your hand falls down to Choso’s cheek, and he nuzzles straight into it like a kitten, you snort at the feeling, his metallic piercing brushing against the palm of your hand. You lean up on your elbow, biting your lips as you go to ask Choso a question that has been lingering on the back of your mind for a while now. “Cho?” Your voice calls out to him, like a siren calling out into the misty sea. He squishes his cheek on your hand as he holds it closer, “Mm? Yeah, baby?’ His husky voice rings out, laced with a bit of tiredness that made it drop an octave deeper.

Drool pooled in your mouth at the sight of your sweet boyfriend, looking at you so intently and filled with love. You pushed on forward, “I wanted to ask you something for a while now..” He raised an eyebrow at you but stayed silent, waiting for you to finish your sentence. Can I watch you jerk off, Cho?” You hear a strangled noise coming from the back of Choso’s throat as he starts choking a bit on his spit, surprised at your question. You smack his back to help him recover, he sits back up on the bed, looking at you with wide eyes. “You wanna watch me?”

He points to himself, shocked that you wanted to watch someone like him do the deed. Choso's image of himself was not very kind, he didn’t understand why someone like you would enjoy seeing him do that sort of thing, but he obliged, seeing the soft look in your eyes. “Ok, then can I ask something of you too?” His obsidian eyes glance around nervously, “Can you please sit on my face while you watch?” Now it was your turn to get shocked. “Won’t I be too heavy? I mean, I don't wanna crush you, Cho..” A low chuckle comes out from him; “First off, I don’t think you could crush me and secondly if I do die, I’ll die the happiest I've ever been.” He leans over to you, pressing a hot kiss on your lips.

His tongue swipes at your bottom lip, sucking on it greedily, tasting you and pushing you closer with a hand on the back of your neck. He parts from you, his eyes glazed over with a different kind of darkness as he takes in your vision. With another nip at your lips he asks; “So is that a yes then?” He sighs out, you nod in return, grabbing his shoulders and switching places with him. Pushing him on the bed, as you work on his pants, pulling them with haste, Choso chuckles once more, helping you by bending his knee as you throw the pants over his feet.

Leaving him in only his black boxer, a delicious bulge already forming in the middle. Choso took you by the hands before you could do anything to him, “Come on, baby..” He ushered you to stand up on top of him, moving so you were facing the opposite side so you could watch him. You stripped yourself of your own pants and panties, kneeling down, your thighs on either side of Choso’s head, his hair tickling your thighs a little. You were hovering right over his face as Choso started to palm at his boxer, He whimpered out a needy, "Please, baby, just come down, I can take it, please.” He was feeling frisky just upon seeing your wet cunt.

“Last chance to stop me.” You drawls out, a part of you wanting him to tell you to stop but a deeper part of you wanting to smother him already. Choso grips on your waist with his free hand, guiding you down on his awaiting mouth. Inhaling your scent upon contact, his tongue flattens itself on your folds, groaning at your taste. His hand slipped down his boxer as his cock flopped out heavily on his stomach. Choso ate you out before, but this position was different, and you could never get used to the feeling of his cold piercings on your sensitive skin, especially the tongue piercing that he had. The small metallic ball smoothing itself on your folds and hitting your clit was fervor.

You almost forgot to keep your eyes open, getting too lost in the haze of pleasure from Choso’s tongue. You steadied yourself by placing your hands on his pecs, squeezing at them softly, finding the bumps of his nipple’s piercing, and tugging at them softly. Eliciting a moan from the man’s mouth, his hands covered in various rings of different sizes and shapes looked so divine as he started fisting his pale cock. Slow and steady, with some stutters in between. He eats you out, like your pussy was an oasis in a vast desert. Tongue working in overdrive, trying to get every last drop of your essence in his mouth even though most of it was spilling all over his face.

He taps your waist a bit as he pulls away just for a bit to tell you; “Mo-move your hips, baby. I want you to ride me, please.” He takes his hand away from your waist to rub circles on your clit as his nose is back to being buried in your core and his tongue lapping at your clit. You whined, feeling a tightness start to coil inside you already, you still did as he told you to, bucking your hips back and forth on his face. Your eyes water, barely able to see Choso squeezing at his own cock, the precum leaking out, coating his hand.

Making it easier for him to fuck his fist, the wet noises of Choso’s jerking off and the slurping noises of him eating you out were combined with his low grunts and whines and your whimpers. Both of you were already nearing the end, your hips pressing down on his face as you lost control of your senses, Choso knew exactly where to press his tongue piercing on to you to make you give the best reactions. He was so pussydrunk on you that he barely even realized that he was about to cum too. Your hands dug into his chest even more, your thighs squeezed his head, covering his ears so he could hear a little bit of your pitched moan as you gushed all over his face.

Choso’s hand seemed to move on autodrive as he gulped up everything he could in the moment, his own hips bucking up into his fist as hot rope of cum spilled out on his thigh, spurting out a few more as he stopped moving his hand. You both stayed in that position for a while, breathing out heavily. However when you make a move to get up, Choso’s hand finds its way back on your waist bringing you down. “Wait, stay with me for a bit, I can handle it.” His tongue folded itself back on your cunt, licking a strip up and down your sensitive flesh. You mewled out at the contact, thighs shivering already but his grip on you was tight.

His cock was still hard and heavy on his stomach, but he didn’t care for it at the moment. “This time, just let me eat for a while, ok, baby?” “You taste so good, I wanna drown in you…”

#₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎ softy writes #softy write #nanami smut #sukuna smut #choso smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #nanami x reader #sukuna x reader #choso x reader

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inbabylontheywept · 4 months ago

Note

your life stories are always so interesting so i shall poke a stick into the cage and ask for more. do you have any fun stories of near death experiences? personally i choked on a lifesaver as a child and could not breathe

personally? not really. ive got a pretty decent hospital story though.

see, my grandpa was in charge of the easter pageant in my state. its a big mormon thing, a lot of other churches come because its just good easter worship. anyway, in part of the pageant, theres a pony for jesus and mary to ride around on. technically supposed to be a donkey, but ponys are just so much more photogenic. anyway this happened when my little sister was going through her little-girl-pony phase, so this was so major-league shit to her. so much so that my grandpa, who i still miss so much, brought this pony to our house so she could ride it.

my little brother? he also wanted to ride it. and i didnt really want to ride it, but they were both so small someone kind of needed to hold those two onboard, and i was the lighest person capable of doing so, (didnt want to overload the pony) so i went on the back too.

and it was a stellar time until the donkey went under a tree, then my little sister hit her head on a branch and fell left, and her fall took my little brother out because he was holding onto her, and both of them took me out, so we all fell off the pony, but me with 2 kids on my left arm.

god blessed me with a third elbow that day.

here are the things that followed after the Miracle of the Third Elbow

my autistic dad came outside to check on me. id broken my arm the year before, so i knew what it was, and i knew what it felt like, so i was able to pretty clearly go "yeah, dad, i broke my arm." and he was able to go "whew. yeah. thats like, harry potter broken." and i was able to say "yeah. yeah it hurts pretty bad." and he said "oh, yeah, definitely. that looks horrible." and then i basically said something like "hopital" and he was like "right" and then we left. my memory after that gets weird.

i can remember driving up main street, and seeing this guy dancing. like, full on dancing down the street. and i asked my dad about why that guy was dancing, and he said that man was a schizophrenic, and he was medicated, but the medication had just made it so that his voices told him to dance instead of hurt himself. now he danced all the time. i should clarify that my dad worked in the ER so he knew a lot of the local homeless on a life-story kind of level. my dads a good guy.

i can remember sitting in the waiting room with a magician that had sliced his right hand open pretty bad while cooking. he was trying his best to keep us entertained with his cards, but because he was doing all his tricks left handed, he'd mess them up sometimes and it was actually kind of more fun to watch than just him in expert mode. another good guy. very friendly, but visibly repulsed by my arm.

i can remember being in a bed, and a nurse coming up to me and saying that they could give me some painkillers, which i was super stoked about, but the IV from the painkillers basically required being stabbed with a needle as thick around as a pencil. she recomended saying the alphabet backwards when she put the needle in, and i said i didn't know how, and then she stuck in the needle in. over 4 seconds i was able to go from z to c, a feat i have never since been able to replicate.

after the painkillers, i watched a tv show called Jackie Chan Adventures, which was an animated cartoon with an animated Jackie Chan, voiced by the real Jackie Chan, solving mysteries. i actually assumed that whole thing was a hallucination until i was an adult, and i was describing it to my wife, and she was like "no, that actually happened." which was funny to happen to me, because when me and her started dating, she just kind of dropped how awesome it was that obama was the first muslim president, and i was like what, no hes an episcopalian, and it turns out that her dad, who sucks for many reasons, had told her that obama was a muslim, and she was sweet enough to believe that, and also to just be like oh, neat, our president is black and a muslim, we are truly moving forward as a counry." i love her so much.

no memories of it after that. not even sure when i got home. just a straight up weird time.

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lucyswinter · 11 months ago

Note

earlyseasons!spencer having a crush on fem!reader headcannons?

.-‘*•_spencer reid crush hcs .•*-.’💗’-.•*

pairing: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none :)

♡ ♡ ♡

-you guys were both hired onto the bau around the same time, so you went through training together and were well aquatinted by the time you were officially colleagues

-he always thought you were really pretty, but didn’t really develop a crush until he saw you in action at work, and was immediately stricken with you after your first case. the way you could command a room and take charge…he thought it was very atttactive

-he looooves talking with you! he isn’t super easily flustered or anything, he just takes any chance he can get to start a conversation.

-to add on, he always comes up with random little facts for you each day. “hey, y/n! i love your ladybug earrings. oh, did you know that a ladybug can eat up to 75 aphids a day? cool right!?”

-always remembers little things about you. you could call it his love language, but that’s really just who he is. within the first few days of meeting you, he already knew your coffee order by heart, and brought it to you nearly every morning

-even though he doesn’t really get flustered easily, he does get a bit…okay a lot blushy at any small touches. like you brush past him on the way to a meeting? his cheeks are red immediately

-he likes to daydream sometimes, and he often spaces out and stares at you without realizing. you’ve caught him looking a few times, but never said anything

-his favorite part about you was your smile. he loved seeing it after he made a corny joke or shared a lame fact. he liked being able to make you happy.

-he thought he was fairly discreet about it, but everyone else at the office thought his crush was painfully obvious

-it didn’t take him long to realise he wanted to ask you out. it took him a while before he was able to build up the confidence, but one day, after one two many cups of coffee (one cup), he stopped you in an empty corner of the office and just went for it

-“look I- this is probably really random and it’s a bit crazy that I’m doing this, but I just- whew okay…I like you. A lot. You’re like… really pretty and really smart and I would like it very much if I could take you out or get coffee or…” you roll your eyes at his caffeine fueled rant and interrupt him by pressing your lips to his

-“sooo…you like me too?” “yes, you idiot! now kiss me again!”

♡ ♡ ♡

#Spencer reid #Spencer reid x reader #Spencer reid x y/n #Spencer reid x you #criminal minds #Spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer reid headcannos #criminal minds fanfiction #lucywrites<3

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nhlclover · 23 days ago

Text

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐊𝐈𝐃

madeleine chase x will smith

will goes on a podcast and reveals to the world his gushing crush on pop star, madeleine chase (wc; 1.11k)

༉‧₊˚. ꒰ notes! ꒱ this is lowkey inspired by how tate mcrae and cole sillinger first got together + what will said in a podcast about tate mcrae (literally every man is obsessed with her and so am i)

au masterlist

It had been about a week since Will had moved to San Jose and he was… settling. California was very different from Massachusetts and everything was new. From the weather to the people, everything was unfamiliar to Will. His teammates — another new thing Will was getting used to — had been nothing but welcoming. They had been showing him around the area and making sure he was settling in well—especially the Marleau family who were taking him in for his first year in San Jose.

He appreciated their efforts, even though the move was still overwhelming at times. The sunny, warm weather of California was a stark contrast to the often chilly and unpredictable climate of Massachusetts, and it was both a blessing and a challenge to adapt to. The culture here was more laid-back, and people seemed to carry an air of casualness that Will wasn’t entirely accustomed to.

In the midst of all these changes, he was dealing with the start of the hockey season, which brought on a lot of commitments. Despite today being a rest day from all of the beginning of the season media, Will was sitting in the Empty Netters podcast studio. Will had met Dan and Chris, the two hosts, a while back, promising them he’d come on when he got signed by the Sharks. Months later, Will was fulfilling his promise.

“Alright, Will, welcome to the Empty Netters pod! Glad to have you here,” said Chris.

“Thank you for having me,” Will said, smiling politely.

“So, you've been in San Jose for what—about two weeks? How’s the transition going? It’s gotta be a change from Massachusetts." Dan asked.

Will nodded, leaning into the mic a bit. “Yeah, about that but it feels like longer with everything going on. It’s been go, go, go since I got here but California’s great. And everyone’s been super welcoming, especially the Marleau family. They’ve really helped me get settled.”

Dan grinned. “Yeah, you got blessed with your living situation for your first year. I mean Patrick Marleau is a legend.”

“Not bad at all,” Will chuckled, relaxing a little. “They’ve been great. Showing me around, and introducing me to some good spots to eat. I’m trying to figure out the whole California lifestyle.”

The conversation flowed easily as they touched on his early career, what he was looking forward to with the Sharks and a few lighter topics.

“Okay, Will, to end this interview we just want to do some rapid-fire questions, alright? So these are just random.” Chris asked.

“Yeah, ok, sounds good,” Will replied.

“Great, first question,” Chris said, glancing at his notes. “What's your favorite movie?”

Will thought for a moment, debating between the movies he loved. “I'd have to say 'Good Will Hunting'. It's a classic and, well, it's set in Boston. Reminds me of home.”

Both Dan and Chris nodded appreciatively. “Nice choice,” Dan answered. “Alright, next up: what's your go-to comfort food?”

“Probably a good lobster roll,” Will replied instantly. “It's practically a staple back home.”

“A lobster roll from Cape Cod sounds fucking delicious.” Chris agreed.

“Alright, final question,” Dan says. “Who is your celebrity crush?”

“Madeleine Chase,” Will says without hesitation.

Both Dan and Chris burst into laughter at Will’s quick answer, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink as he realizes his eagerness. “Damn, you were ready for that question,” Chris says through laughter. “Can you expand on why she is your celebrity crush?”

Will chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to gather his thoughts. “I mean, first of all, she’s gorgeous. I keep seeing photos of her performing for Taylor Swift in Europe and… whew.” Will answers, getting another chorus of laughter from the podcast hosts. “But also there’s something about her vibe. She seems really down-to-earth and genuine. I’ve seen her in interviews and she’s got a great sense of humor.”

Dan grinned. “Sounds like you’ve thought about this a lot.”

“Yeah, maybe a bit,” Will admitted, laughing. “But, you know, it’s hard not to admire someone like that. She’s got the whole package.”

“Quick, favorite song of hers?” Chris asked.

Will didn’t have to think much before answering. “Close To You. It’s just such a fun song to listen to.”

“If you have a message for Madeleine that we might be able to get to her at some point, what would it be?” Dan asked.

Will chuckled, questioning if he really wanted to it all out bare on this podcast. “Answer my DM,” he said, confidence lacing his tone.

“No way you’ve DM’ed her.” Chris laughed.

Will simply shrugged, laughing along with the two brothers. Dan leaned in with mock seriousness. "Alright, Sharks fans, you heard it here first—Will Smith’s got game both on and off the ice."

As the podcast wrapped up, Will thanked Chris and Dan, and they walked him out. His agent was waiting, jumping straight into talking about his schedule, but Will wasn't really listening. He was still stuck replaying the last part of the interview in his head.

Did I really just say that? His mind replayed the last part of the interview—talking about Madeleine Chase with no filter, like some lovestruck kid. He cringed inwardly, imagining how it must have sounded to anyone listening. He could already hear the ribbing from his teammates once this went live, and he cringed. His agent's voice was just white noise now as Will’s thoughts spiraled, imagining the potential fallout.

Answer my DM. The words bounced around his head like an unwelcome reminder of how he’d opened himself up for a joke. What if she actually did hear it? He wasn’t sure what compelled him to be so bold, especially considering they didn’t know each other. Will had always been reserved, especially in public settings, and now he felt like he'd let his guard down too much.

“Will? You listening?” his agent said, snapping him out of his daze.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here,” Will replied quickly, though he wasn’t. He pulled out his phone, hovering over the podcast's social media page. Maybe I can ask them to cut that part out… no, that’s ridiculous. It’s too late. He forced himself to put his phone away, trying to focus on anything else but the possibility of his comment blowing up online.

Will sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to shake off the doubt. Maybe it wasn’t that bad. They laughed, so it couldn’t have been too cringey… right?

Still, the uncertainty weighed on him. California was supposed to be a fresh start, but at that moment, Will couldn’t help but feel like he’d already stumbled out of the gate.

#`✦ˑ 🤍 𓂃⊹ CIWYW au #madeleine x will #will smith hockey

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koifsssh · 1 year ago

Text

The Greaser Au!

(oh goodie! it's here!)

bwah, where to start?

long, long, long rambles below! (Beware!)

Wally! I'll start with Wally!

As you can imagine, Wally is the little leader of the group! Promptly dubbed after his last name, "The Darlings"! (how darling they are indeed!)

Wally had grown a fascination with the trend, though he didn't quite understand the need to act so tough and mean, so he decided to make his own group! (with the help of Barnaby!)

Motorcycles, catchy tunes, being free on the road is something everyone should enjoy! So who cares if you're big or small, or if you like the color pink? Anyone can be a greaser as long as they got a jacket and a bike to go along with it!

At least, that what he believes anyway!

Speaking of a certain beagle...

Barnaby!

Barnaby of course wanted to join in on the fun, and he very publicly advertised Wally's gang at his little comedy nights! (It did catch a certain blonde's attention!)

it did garner attention, with the way the beagle so affectionately told of Wally's endearingly comedic actions from their day to day life. Barnaby also helped Wally organize the entire set up, helping him get paint and base jackets for the painter to personalize! (He also suggested Poppy's diner as a hangout spot! He had it all thought out!)

Plus, it made his best friend happy! Who could ask for more? Well... maybe Barnaby would ask for a hotdog or two.

Julie!

Julie is a seasoned hair stylist! She owns her own hair salon! She's excellent at her job, however more often than not she gets a unpleasant customer.

Stress can pile up unfortunately, and when she attended a comedy show one evening she couldn't help but be ecstatic at such an idea of being free on the road. It felt like the perfect destresser!

Talking on the phone with Frank was great and all, but nothing compares to feeling the rush of wind in her hair... So she jumped at such an opportunity! And of course, Julie doesn't go anywhere without a certain frowny bookworm!

Frank!

Frank is an entomologist! (and a part-time librarian during the summertime!) A dream job really, but every dream comes with its hurdles! Similar to Julie, Frank found themself stressed. Usually books were able to decompress them, but lately they've been growing frustrated, the one thing they hate the most is incompetent writing!

It took a lot of convincing to get Frank to even consider the idea of being a greaser, let alone get on a motorcycle... but Julie can be very insistent when she wishes to be! Not even a week passed before they begged Julie to stop her nagging, but in exchange they had to at least go with her once on a motorcycle...

how mortifying.

However! the thrill of being on the open road at a high speed was something they never knew they needed! Needless to say, after that, they were hooked!

Sally!

Sally was the last member to join! and she took her spot quite quickly!

Sally had been in Poppy's diner when she saw The Darling's walk in, she was in awe! Colorful motorcycles? Matching jackets? They all looked marvelous! The star couldn't help herself when she walked up to them, simply starstruck at such a group!

They all looked to be having such fun... she wanted to take part!

When Sally asked if there was a spot left for her, Wally softly smiled at her and stated, "Anyone and everyone can join!"

She was content that day, and from then on, it really was the best group of friends she could ever ask for!

---

whew! im done!

(this is my second time typing this... i had lost it all the first time. bwah. but it's here!!!)

im quite happy how everything turned out! I think i'll use this as a master post of sorts, just so you don't have to dig through my stuff just to find anything specific!

I'll leave Poppy's & Howdy's explanations here! (Just know those designs are old! All the designs in this post are the ones i will be using!)

Poppy's Diner!

additionally! I will give you everyone's closeups!

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bloodstainedsaint · 1 year ago

Text

the sniper (joseph liebgott x sniper! reader)

summary: when you transferred from dog company to easy company following the battle of bloody gulch, you thought you knew what to expect of men in the military— though you really wanted joe liebgott to prove you wrong

word count: just over 3500

warnings: period-typical sexism & misogyny (big part of the story), very minor violence, denying feelings, mutual pining, reader lowkey has trust issues, full of other characters but hopefully no one's ooc?? also this fic is kinda messy 😭

notes: happy thanksgiving! enjoy this fic for the holidays 💞 also your favs AREN'T sexist, just confused

Gossip, you realized, was an easy way to kill time for the men of the military, especially with the recent news that there would be a transfer to Easy Company— the transfer being you, of course. You had no idea you were such a hot topic until you walked down a street of Aldbourne in search of the man currently in charge of your new company, Lieutenant Winters, and overheard a trio of soldiers discussing rumors as they sat around awaiting orders.

“Hey, have you heard that there’s a transfer coming from D-Company?” one said, lighting a cigarette.

“Whew, he must’ve not taken any smokes from Lieutenant Sparky, huh, Don?” another chuckled, stealing the cigarette out of who you guessed was Don’s fingers and puffing for emphasis, much to Don’s displeasure.

Huffing, Don continued, “He’s a sniper, apparently! Better than Shifty!”

“Nah, no one’s better than Shifty,” the third butted in. “Shifty can shoot you right between the eyes blindfolded.”

“Shifty would deny that ‘til he died, Penk,” said the second with a smile.

“It’s true, Skip! Apparently he tracked a target from 1,000 yards away and still got him in the head! Bang! Just like that,” Don said while he mimicked holding a rifle and firing.

“Psh, our boy Shifty could do that, or better: 2,000 yards, right?” Skip nudged Penk with his shoulder.

Penk shrugged. “Length don’t matter, anyway. It’s what you do with the gun, not how far it shoots.”

Skip and Don shared a look and grinned, the latter joking, “Don’t you mean distance, Alex? What, you insecure about something?”

The trio devolved into laughter and banter, but was suddenly quieted as Don patted the others and pointed at you approaching. Several other men standing nearby swiveled their heads to watch as well.

A woman dressed in fatigues, the shoulder of her uniform emblazoned with the Screaming Eagles patch, a M1 Garand slung around her back— they couldn't seem to get their mind around it. Disregarding their curious stares (you’d gotten a lot of them for the past two years or so that you've been enlisted), you walked past the group of spectators.

A couple of men whistled lowly, and a murmur spread through the small crowd. You stopped in your tracks for a moment, eyes downward in thought. Surely one of these men knows where Lieutenant Winters is. You turned on your heel toward the group.

“Afternoon,” you addressed the onlookers, who were now either standing up or gathering around in interest. Your eyes went from man to man, meeting inquisitive and suspicious stares alike, unfazed. “Anyone know where I can find Lieutenant Winters?”

“You, uh, you lost?” a diminutive man — Perconte, his name tag read — asked.

One with a strict face and a glower already etched into it — Martin — stepped into the scattered group. “Who’s asking?”

“Private (Y/N), sir,” you said with a quick salute that was returned. “I’m transferring from Dog Company to Easy Company. I was told to look for a Lieutenant Winters.”

The men exchanged a look amongst each other.

The man from earlier, Don, spoke up with awe apparent in his voice. “You’re a sniper?”

You turned to him with a curt nod. “Yes, I’m a sharpshooter.”

Then a lanky, scrappy-looking guy, Liebgott, entered with a smirk tugging upon his lips. Just by looking at his crooked smile and raised eyebrows, you knew he was going to cause you trouble. Just another man ogling at you like you're nothing but a pretty face. What else is new? “You need help getting around base?”

“No thank you, that won’t be necessary,” you swiftly rebuffed, turning your attention back to the rest of the men. You set them with an expectant look.

“You can find Lieutenant Winters over there at CP,” Randleman, a large red-headed man, said around a hefty cigar in his mouth, nodding his head in the tent’s direction. “If he’s not there, try the mess cabin.”

With a small smile, grateful that someone finally answered your question instead of asking more of them, you thanked him, saluted, and walked off.

As you started towards CP, you heard behind your back, “Did Roosevelt change something while we were overseas? ‘Cause I just saw a lady wearing paratrooper clothing with a rifle ‘round her back.”

“Very astute, George,” someone replied.

You could almost hear the smirk in Liebgott’s voice as he declared, “I’m gonna go talk to her.”

“Yeah, come back alive,” another voice — Skip, maybe — chimed in. “Speirs might’ve rubbed off on her.”

You only had a few seconds to mentally prepare yourself before you heard footsteps catching up behind you. Liebgott was now walking side by side with you, matching your brisk pace.

“Hey, (Y/N), right?”

You took a sidelong glance at him. “That’s right.”

“Joseph D. Liebgott. Technician 5th-Grade.”

“And is there a reason why you’re following me to CP, Liebgott?”

“Thought I’d show you around base, get to know you a little.”

“And I thought I declined your assistance,” you said firmly. “I was part of Dog Company; I'm not new around here.”

“Alright, how about introducing you to Easy men when you’re finished?” He threw a smile your way. “They’re curious about you.”

You slightly grimaced at the thought of being at the center of attention for so many strangers. “I’d rather not.”

“Why? They’re great guys. I don’t know about Dog Company men and their Lieutenant Speirs, but Easy men, especially Toccoa men, are different.”

They don’t seem all that different to me. You gripped the strap of your gun a little tighter. “Once again, I’ll pass.”

He shrugged. “You’ll warm up to us.”

A tense silence ensued. You did your best to not seem bothered by it. Usually by this point people gave up and stopped talking to you entirely.

“So, uh,” he began, running his hands through his hair. Of course you weren’t getting rid of him that easily. Your intuition earlier was right. “Why’re you transferring over to Easy? No offense, but we've got a helluva marksman already.”

“I wasn’t given a reason, just an order.”

“That so? Well, maybe you’ll take his place as our resident sniper, huh?”

“Looking forward to it,” you responded drily.

He chuckled. “You’ll fit right into Easy with the rest of the snarkers. Where you from, (Y/N)?”

You eyed him cautiously. “Lansing, Michigan.”

“Get outta here, you serious? I'm from there too!” Liebgott cracked a smile and gazed at you. “Man, I might’ve seen you around and just haven’t realized it. Could've been talking to you years ago.”

You pursed your lips. “It wouldn't have helped your chances, Liebgott.”

Grinning, he said, undaunted, “What chances? We're just talking. I wanna know the lady I’ll be fighting with.”

“You just want to know if I’m single or not. That’s all,” you icily said as the two of you neared the tent.

Apparently found out, Liebgott smiled broadly and stopped a few feet from CP while you continued walking. “Well, are you?”

You turned to face him. “Yes, I’m single, and no, I’m not interested in sleeping with you.”

You couldn’t see the smile melt off his face as you entered the tent, eyes searching amongst all the men and equipment for the tall soldier you’ve seen conversing with Lieutenant Speirs before.

“Private (Y/N),” a voice called. You looked in its direction and finally found Winters.

“Lieutenant Winters.” You saluted.

“You’re the new transfer, right?” he asked, beckoning you further into the tent for some privacy. You were thankful that most of the men here were too occupied with their own duties to notice you.

You followed him to a quiet corner. “Yes, sir.”

“Met the men yet?”

“Some of them.”

“Anyone give you trouble?” he asked gently. “You can tell me.”

You paused, thinking. Nothing past some inquisitive stares and a couple of questions. “No, sir.”

Winters perceived your hesitation. “If that changes, tell me. They're good men, but they might be a bit eager to meet you.”

You nodded. Liebgott certainly was. He analyzed your face for a second before continuing, “Try to get yourself acquainted at dinner before you go into combat with them. That’ll be all, Private.”

You saluted, knowing full well that you’ll most likely try to get a seat by yourself, away from the clamor of the men.

“Thank you, sir.”

It turned out that no seat was good enough to escape the onslaught of questions.

You had gotten there early and took a seat at the far end of one of the tables with a book in hand and not much of an appetite. Unfortunately for you, being one of the first ones there instead of a head in a crowd of people singled you out, and eventually you were surrounded by men wanting to know more.

“Hey, this is the new replacement I’ve been hearing so much about, yeah?” Bill Guarnere, or Wild Bill, as they called him, questioned, shoving himself into one of the seats at your table.

“Transfer, Gonorrhea, not a replacement,” Liebgott said from your side. When he had entered the mess cabin, you had attempted to hide yourself with your book, but to no avail. He had beelined toward you, beaming ear to ear as he slid into the seat next to you.

“You into books?” he said, eyes going from you to the book in your hands.

You thought that he might actually surprise you.“Yeah, are you?”

He scoffed lightheartedly. “What, you kidding? I love to read!”

A ghost of a smile graced your face. “What kind?”

“Oh, you know, Dick Tracy, Flash Gordon, mostly!” he said, seemingly proud of himself, and your smile disappeared.

Soon after that, people swarmed your table. If you were being fair, though, Liebgott had spoken for you for most of the night, making sure you could read in relative peace. If you didn't know any better, you’d say that he was just enjoying you being by his side, but you were still wary of any underlying intentions (let’s say, getting into your pants) he might have.

Yet, out of the corner of your eyes, you saw the way he looked at you from time to time with a small smile upturning his lips, and you wanted to believe he didn't have any.

“Transfer, replacement, whatever,” Bill brushed it off with a wave of his hand. “What I wanna know is—”

“—why she’s a girl?” Liebgott finished. “Jeez, I dunno, she’s only been asked this twelve times tonight.”

“If you’d let me finish,” Bill said with a pointed look at Liebgott as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, “I was gonna ask if she did shoot a Kraut from 1,000 yards away.”

“You’d be giving ole Shifty a real run for his money, ain't that right, Shift?” Joe — the other one, Joe Toye — said from beside Bill, reaching over to another table and shaking one of the guys there.

Shifty, you assumed, looked over and met your eyes with a kind smile. “No, no, I’m sure she's a better shot than me. Y'all give me too much credit.”

“That’s what being humble will get ya.” Bill chuckled and puffed from his cigarette. “Your spot as Easy’s best shot out from under ya.”

The table laughed, and you steeled yourself before uttering in a quiet, yet steady voice, “It was two men.”

A hush descended over the table. Liebgott turned to look at you. “What?”

“Two men. I dropped the first. The other one heard and started running. I dropped him next. Both in the head,” you relayed, without the humor of a storyteller but the gravity of a historian. You didn't know it, but you had a stony look in your eye.

Luckily, you were saved from the stunned silence by a man getting up and reciting a poem, but you could feel Liebgott’s eyes burning into you. With fear? Admiration? You weren’t sure, but you didn't dare look over.

Joe Liebgott was nothing if not persistent. For months now, he'd been lingering around you, flirting and striking up conversations with you. To be honest, you never outright said for him to stop (besides that one time in the very beginning when you said you weren’t interested), so you guessed he wasn't overstepping any boundaries.

Still, he seemed determined to get you into his bed.

“C’mon, I think we’d look cute together!”

“That’s what you think, Joe,” George said, squatting next to his friend, “Giving her heart eyes and all. Meanwhile, she looks at you like you're her next target.”

Brushing his teeth, Frank followed the other two’s gaze across the road, where you were happily talking with Bull and Shifty. He spat out the toothpaste residue on the ground beside him and said, counting on his fingers, “Seems like the only people she gives the time of day to are Shifty, Bull, Doc Roe, even Webster.”

“Who, if you'll notice,” George said, gesturing with a cigarette between his fingers, “are all quiet, reserved, well-mannered people. You, on the other hand, got a loud mouth and, uh, what’s it called, Frank?”

“A short fuse,” Frank supplied.

“Yeah, a short fuse. She probably thinks you’re trying to get into bed with her, in which case, you're shit outta luck.”

Frank said, shaking his head, “Scary, that girl. With her rifle and that look in her eyes.”

Liebgott exhaled. “But I’m not tryna just sleep with her! I even gave her some of my favorite comics ‘cause I knew she likes to read.”

“Yeah, real books, Joe— that's why she gets along with Webster!” Frank exclaimed. “You sure you didn't give her the pornos?”

George laughed. “That'd give her the wrong impression.”

Liebgott narrowed his eyes as you giggled at something Shifty said. “You’re right, maybe she doesn't like me.”

Standing up, George sighed and snuffed out his cigarette. “That’s not the point, Joe. I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”

“Yeah, like I’m her next target? You told me already.”

“No,” George said with an exaggerated eye roll, “like she wants more outta you. ‘Cause all she's getting is the impression that you wanna fuck her.”

Liebgott stood up as well, still watching as you laughed with Bull and Shifty. George and Frank patted him on the back.

“She’s all yours, buddy,” Frank assured with a sympathetic smile. “She makes heart eyes at you too.”

There were only a handful of women selected to serve outside of something like a nurse’s position; you just so happened to be one of them, most likely because of your experience with a rifle. So, you’d gotten used to the lustful ways some men would watch you, or the demeaning ways they would taunt you. You guessed almost all of them had never seen a woman with a combat position in the military before (or by the way some of them acted, ever spoken to a woman at all).

But such men only assumed that you had earned your jump wings by sleeping around with officers. They assumed that they should be able to get in on it too, or that they should condemn you for something you didn't even do, for being unworthy and unskilled all because you were a woman.

It had always been a difficult pill to swallow: your military career would be littered with scathing remarks and crude comments, and you’d have to be strictly professional or closed-off with most men lest you’d be seen as a whore rather than just “scary”. But the hardest fact to accept was the fact that Liebgott, for all the kindness he had shown you, all the times he talked to you like you were a human being— that he most likely had the same intentions as everyone else.

As much as you relished his company, his crooked smile, his jokes, his lingering touches (and as much as you had to pretend you didn't), you had to accept his end goal was for you to warm his bed. And sure, maybe he was more dogged with his efforts than other men were, and maybe your friends in the company had told you that he was a genuine guy, but you just couldn't believe that he had anything else in mind when it came to you.

Maybe all the criticisms thrown your way had affected you more than you thought.

With the success of Operation Pegasus, Bull had dragged you (not literally, though you’re sure he could've) into a pub in the Netherlands for some celebratory drinking.

You didn't drink, and you disliked pubs; the smell of booze and drunken people was often overpowering, but at least you found quiet company with Bull. Across the room from your table, you saw Liebgott staring at you with a smile and a drink in his hand. It seemed as though he had noticed you the second you entered.

“It’s alright if I leave you alone for a second, little lady?” Bull said, chewing on a cigar like usual. “You'll be fine?”

“Sure, Bull. Go enjoy yourself.”

The large man smiled and patted you on the back before leaving to talk to some of the other men in the company.

Not one to mingle, you were only a few pages into your book when you caught the attention of an intoxicated soldier.

“Look who it is,” Cobb said to himself, hardly standing upright. You recognized his voice, seeing as this wasn’t the first time he’s derided you. “Ms. 1,000 Yards, huh. Bet the officers over at Dog Company only made up that story so it looks like you had some use.”

You ground your teeth. Typically, if you didn't give someone like him the satisfaction of an answer, they’d leave you alone. Why defend yourself and give people another word to call you: bitchy?

“What's a woman got to do in the military anyway?” Bottle in hand, he shambled towards you. “Besides suck the dicks of the men who are actually fighting.”

Steadying your uneven breath, you tried to look behind him to find Liebgott, but his body blocked your view.

Taking another swig, he spat, “That why they transferred you over from Dog Company? Those boys got their fill of you and passed you onto us, huh? Fuckin’ good for nothing slut.”

“What the fuck did you just say to her?” You heard Liebgott’s voice and felt relief wash over you.

Cobb turned around, and you caught a glimpse of an incensed Liebgott, a fierce glint to his eyes.

“Tell me what you just said to her.”

“Oh, please, Joe, you trying to get her to suck your cock faster—”

He was interrupted by a fist flying his way, toppling the inebriated man. Liebgott got on top of him and began trading punches before the surrounding men, drawn by the commotion, tried to pull him off of Cobb.

Your eyes were blown wide as you stood there, speechless. Bull found you and pulled you by the arm out of the pub.

“But what about Liebgott?” you said, peering behind you.

Bull shrugged and did the same. “Seems like he was winning anyway.”

That night in your billet, all you could think about was the fury that twisted Liebgott’s face into one you only saw on the battlefield.

And it was all for you.

The next day, you searched for Liebgott at breakfast, the table feeling a bit more empty without him taking up his normal spot beside you, but he had found you first, as he usually did.

“Hey, (Y/N), can I talk to you for a sec?” he said, his hand on your shoulder. You turned around in your seat and were met with a slightly bruised Liebgott, a small cut across his nose. Concern filling your chest, you nodded, and his hand held your wrist as he led you out of the mess hall.

“So, uh, about last night,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes searched yours for how you felt about him bringing it up, but he found no hints in your unreadable expression. “I’m sorry for fighting Cobb for you. You're a strong woman, you could handle him yourself—”

Smiling at his uncharacteristic hesitance, you cut his apology short with a peck on the cheek. You pulled away and saw his temporary surprise.

“Thank you, Joe. I appreciated you standing up for me. It means a lot.”

His face broke into the widest beam you've ever seen.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked eagerly, the words spilling out of his mouth before he could even process what they were. “Shit, sorry, that was too soon—”

You answered his question by tenderly holding his bruised face with your hands and bringing his lips to yours. You could feel him grin into the kiss as he pulled you closer, and your heart just about melted.

Maybe you had gotten Joe Liebgott all wrong from the start.

“Great, he’s never gonna wash that cheek again!”

taglist: @mads-weasley, @ronsparky, @dcyllom, @malarkgirlypop

#band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #joe liebgott #joe liebgott x reader #hbo war #hbo war fanfic #easy company #101st airborne #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers imagines #joseph liebgott x reader #joseph liebgott #joseph d liebgott

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megamindsecretlair · 8 months ago

Note

Do you write for Franklin saint? Maybe with him getting that stress relief??? Like I want him to be pussy whipped fr. (Feel free to ignore but your Franklin works are magical)

A/N: Ask and ye shall receive!!!!

Stress Relief

AO3 Link!

Pairing: Franklin Saint x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, PIV, oral (male receiving) multiple uses of n-word, kissing. No major spoilers for Snowfall.

Summary: During a stressful period at the end of season 3, Franklin is dealing with a lot of pressure from all sides. Between Leon popping off at the mouth and Manboy getting bold, Franklin is running around stressed. You feel bad. You want to help him. Even though it's hot as hell outside, you decide to do a little heating up at home to take the tension away.

Word Count: 2,434k

A/N: Whew! This got ME hot and bothered. I hope you enjoy! I'm also on AO3 now! Old dogs can learn new tricks! Please, please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! I can't get better if I don't get feedback!

Taglist: @planetblaque @notapradagurl7 @miyuhpapayuh @henneseyhoe @blackerthings @wide-nose-and-wonderful @halfofmysoulsblog @sevikasblackgf @slippinninque @babybratzmaraj @browngirldominion @thecookiebratz @we-outsiiiide @kindofaintrovert @theunsweetenedtruth @theyscreamsannii @kaaliyahsierra @pinkpantheris @blackelysian @sugrcookiiee @hihellogoodbyebruh @softimgyu @neawarren @harmshake @iv0rysoap @ciaqui @amethyst09 @nworbaij @nerdieforpedro

Fuck it was hot as hell in LA. You fanned yourself as you sat in front of the fan, titties out, trying to cool off. You wore shorts, though that did nothing for the sticky sweat between your thighs. Your braids were off your neck, resting on the couch cushion. LA has had some record heat waves, but this felt like one of the worst ones. The radio called for everyone to do their part for conservation. Sheeit. It was hotter than a devil’s draws outside.

Franklin was going to be out all day, running errands with Leon. The mess between him and Manboy was stressing your man out and you were running out of ways to help him. Though you didn’t want anything to do with handling drugs, you tried to help in other ways. Counting his money, checking in on his mom and Alton, and holding down the house while he was away.

When Franklin got like this, it was best to get out of his way. It was tough for you to do because you were a helper by nature. You didn’t like seeing people in distress when you could do something about it. Sweets usually did it, but Franklin’s only vice was a nice glass of soda.

You sighed, adding to the hot air blowing through the room. Sweat gathered on your skin, under your boobs, giving you a light sheen that was bordering on uncomfortable. You tried to distract yourself with ways you could help Franklin relieve some of that tension.

It’d be easier if the mu’fucka just went on and had a drink. Everybody had something.

Keys jingling made you lean around the couch to look at the front door. Franklin slid into the house, dark blue shirt clinging to his lean frame. You watched him move, tension in the set of his shoulders and his lips pressed together.

“Hey baby,” you said.

Franklin did a double take, looking around for you. You made a noise so that he knew to look on the floor, in front of the couch. His eyes landed on you and he gave you a smile. “What you doin’ here?” He asked.

“I wasn’t finna go to work in this shit. Probably should have for the air conditioning, but well. It’s too hot for all that,” you said and waved your hand. Thinking about air conditioning made you pay attention to how the heat rolled over your skin.

Franklin closed the door and walked over to the couch. He passed in front of you and sat down. He leaned over a planted a kiss on your forehead. Then he sat back on the couch with a loud sigh.

“If anyone ask, I was over Rob’s last night,” he said.

You turned around to face him. “Okay. But where were you really?” You asked.

Franklin’s head rested on the back of the dark brown couch, looking up towards the ceiling like it had the answers he needed. He licked his lips slowly.

“Don’t you fix your lips to lie, Franklin Saint,” you said.

Franklin chuckled and it warmed you up to see him smile, even a little. You missed that damn smile on his face. Over the past few weeks, he’d been steadily growing more tired. The smiles didn’t come as easy.

“You know I try to keep you outta this shit,” he said.

“Too bad. How’d things go with Leon and Manboy?” You asked. He wasn’t ready to talk about last night and that was okay. For now.

Franklin leaned forward and rubbed his hands together, a grimace on his face. He avoided looking at you so he probably wasn’t going to tell the whole truth. Must be really bad. You knew he sometimes had to do things he wasn’t proud of. Things that would make his mama cry if she really knew.

You weren’t so cavalier about the things he did but you understood him. Growing up in the hood like you both did, it was a desolate wasteland sometimes. It felt like there was a giant hand on your neck, keeping you down no matter how hard you worked to get out from under it. Franklin was only trying to even the playing field.

“I’m so sick of trying to get niggas to act right,” Franklin said. He stood up, rolling his shoulders and cracking his knuckles.

You grimaced. Maybe you shouldn’t have mentioned anything. “Leon so fucking busy worrying about Wanda, Manboy got the Crips on lock in Compton and Leon pushing in. Like cats and fuckin’ dogs with these niggas!” He yelled.

You stayed quiet and let him vent. He was even more wound up than you thought. Had you ever seen him so worked up? It’d been so long since he was home long enough to have an actual conversation. Mostly, you talked in between his meetings and goings on. He’d page you and you’d find a few minutes to hurry and call before he scooted off again.

Matter of fact, it’d been quite some time since you had your legs wrapped around his waist. You felt bad, but as he spoke, you stared at his frame. At the hard lean to his shoulders when he was truly pissed. Sometimes, his walk turned you on more than his words ever could.

You stood up, halting Franklin in his tracks. His eyes dropped down to your titties, but you took his hand. You silently led him to the couch, making him sit back down. “You’re stressed,” you said.

Franklin opened his mouth, but you placed a finger over his lips. “You’re stressed and running around with too much responsibility. Too many things on your mind, baby,” you said.

He sighed and finally nodded, seeming to deflate completely. You moved your hand under his chin and lifted it. You planted a kiss to his lips. He groaned, leaning in to deepen the kiss. You pulled away, kissed his cheek, and leaned down to his ear. “I know how to get your mind right,” you softly sang.

“What you got in mind?” He asked.

You smirked and sank to your knees in front of the couch. You eyed him as you went for his zipper and pulled. You moved his jeans and briefs down, until his hardening dick sprang free. You moaned at the sight of it, biting your lip as if you could already taste the salty taste of him.

You lowered your mouth on him, taking your time to work him all the way in. He groaned as your mouth took as much of him as you could. You swirled your tongue around his shaft and then around his tip. Pre-cum leaked into your mouth and you moaned, swallowing him down.

“Fuck,” he sighed. He gathered up your braids into a tight ponytail.

“You need some relief baby?” You asked around his dick.

Franklin’s eyes were locked on yours. On the way that you smiled at him while sucking him back down. He nodded and pushed your head further. You slobbered on his dick, coating him with your saliva. Your wet, loud sucking battled with the fan blowing hot air across your back.

Franklin slowly pulled you by your hair up and down and kept his eyes locked on his disappearing length inside of you. You let him go with a wet plop and then bit his thigh. He hissed and gave you a wild look.

“I won’t break Franklin, you know that. You need some real relief? Fuck me then,” you said, giving him a challenging look. You dared him with your eyes.

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” he said. But his eyes were growing wider, breathing in creasing. Sweat made his dark skin glisten.

You licked him from his balls to the tip of his shaft and he gasped. “You won’t,” you said.

Franklin grinned and shook his head. “Fuck I do to deserve you, huh?” He asked.

He didn’t give you a chance to respond. He licked his lips slowly, grabbed your braids tighter, and then pushed you down on his dick. He groaned, yelling a bit, as he fucked your mouth how he needed. You planted your hands on his thighs to brace yourself and settled in for the ride.

You couldn’t resist teasing his tip whenever it ran past your lips. More pre-cum leaked into your mouth and you slurped that up. Drool spilled down your chin. You ran your tongue underneath his dick, tracing the hint of vein there. Franklin pushed his hips forward.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum,” he muttered. Not a second later, he shoved your head down and exploded in your mouth. His dick pulsed with hot cum shooting down your throat. You swallowed every last drop, breathing heavily.

Franklin threw his head back with a groan, ragged gasps escaping him. He was so damn hot after he came. When his lips parted and his eyes were closed. That throat of his. His heaving breaths making his chest rise and fall so rapidly.

You wiped your mouth clear of lingering drool. You moved to stand up, but Franklin caught your movement. He snatched you about the waist, and shoved your shorts and panties down. He pulled you onto his lap while he shoved his own pants down, further down his long legs.

You straddled him and he moved his fingers to tease your clit. “You wet for me?” He asked. His voice was low and husky, sending tingles down your spine.

“Yes, baby,” you said. Sucking him off made you so unbearably wet. Perhaps it wasn’t just him that needed stress relief. Being so worried about him caused its own little bubble of frustration.

His thumb traced circles around your clit while he captured your lips with his own. He kissed you like you supplied the oxygen he needed to survive. He nipped at your bottom lip before diving in for more. His other hand gripped your hip. Fingers digging in for purchase.

You moaned into his lips. His finger worked magic on your pussy, pulling you closer and closer to the height of pleasure. Dripping onto his thighs, he moved his finger and circled his tip with your juices.

He rubbed his dick between your wet folds, gathering enough of your slick to push in without hurting you. You hissed as he breached your entrance. He kissed your neck, then down to your chest. He licked your nipple and then suckled it.

“Oh-Oh fuck,” you moaned. The sweet bite of pain relaxed you enough to allow him inside. He pushed in deeper, working his hips until he was sliding in and out of you with ease. Your forehead dropped against his as you rode him.

“Fuuck,” he moaned. Your breaths co-mingled, absorbed each other by being pressed chest to chest. Your sweat made you glide against his chest, his shirt the only barrier. You stole kisses in between moans, but you were too blissed out to stay connected for long.

Franklin’s hands moved up to rub up and down your back and you sighed. You kissed his forehead. You were a hot mess at the moment. The smell of sex heavy and thick in the air. You didn’t care. He felt so good inside you. Like home. Like the most sinful heaven. Like sweet hell.

Franklin pulled out and you groaned. You instantly missed him. He placed you on the couch and he stood up. He grinned and pulled off his shirt. He soaked through it with sweat. He kicked off his pants, leaving him in his naked glory.

You admired the length of his body, licking your lips at the sheer beauty of him. He pulled your hips and flipped you over. You got to your knees, placing your hands over the back of the couch for leverage.

He grabbed your hips and shoved in with a low, rumbling moan. “Oh fuck!” You screamed. You gripped the back of the couch, nails digging in while he hit it from the back with a bruising, punishing pace.

Your ass smacked on his thighs and he grunted with every stroke. “Oh fuck, fuck that pussy, baby,” you moaned. “Beat this pussy up!”

Franklin groaned, seeming to go deeper or stroke harder according to your demands. “Needed this. Needed you,” he croaked.

“Needed you tooooo,” you moaned. You dropped your sweaty forehead to your forearm, indescribable pleasure overtaking your whole body. Like you were weightless. Jointless. Like you could fall apart at any moment and his dick could stitch you back together.

“Niggas don’t fuckin’ listen. But you do, don’t you baby?” Franklin asked.

“Yes, baby, I listen,” you cried out, nodding though you weren’t sure if he could see it. He grabbed hold of your braids again, yanking your head back. Your back bowed as he entered at a new angle, dragging the tip of him across a deep, sweet spot that made you scream.

You came, body and limbs shaking uncontrollably. Franklin continued to pound inside of you, grunting and oblivious that your world was splitting apart atom by atom.

“Oh fuck, baby. This pussy yours, baby,” you managed to eke out in between moans.

That lit a fire under Franklin. His fingers gripped your sides harder, his strokes got deeper, and his moans bounced off of the walls. He growled as he came, hot, pulsing jets of cum that stuffed you to the brim.

Your legs turned to jelly and you collapsed across the back of the couch. Franklin’s quick breaths fanned across your back. Your body still shivered, aftershocks from such a rough and deeply satisfying fuck.

Franklin’s hips stilled deep inside, keeping you plugged up with his cum. He dropped forward, pushing you into the couch. You looked back at him and he smiled sloppily at you.

“You know just how to take care of me,” he whispered.

You smiled, groaning as he slipped out. His cum slipped out after and he disappeared from behind you. You heard water running and then he was back, wiping you down with a cool washcloth.

You sighed as the cool cloth hit your overheated skin. When he was done, he plopped the towel onto the coffee table and then joined you on the couch. Despite the heat, you burrowed into his embrace, throwing your legs over his.

He rubbed your arm while you played with the tiny hairs on his thighs. He kissed your forehead. “Fuckin’ love the shit outta you,” he said.

You leaned up to look at him in his beautiful eyes. “Love the shit outta you too.”

Plenty more of Franklin to go around! The Secret Franklin Saint Files

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carolmunson · 1 year ago

Text

come get me, come love me (older!modern!eddie)

part four of who knows how many. orange colored sky set list surprise chapter, bitches. after we got rained out at the park, we finish our date at eddie's apartment in prospect heights, things heat up despite the storm. inspired by @loveshotzz older steve series: all i really want is you (see if you can spot the easter egg in this lil chapter.) tw: age gappy (reader is late 20s/early 30s, eddie is late 30s/early 40s), kissin', reader wears eddie's clothes but there's no body description songspiration: lovesick | banks

The door to the building is wedged between a restaurant and a pet store on a long street of bars and places to eat. You’ve been down here plenty of times, the ramen spot closer to the end of the street is to die for, and one of the ice cream shops is the best in this part of the city. He unhooks the carabiner from his belt loop and hurries the key into the heavy iron grate door before bumbling into the wooden one behind it.

“Whew!” he says when you both get inside, wiping some of the rain from his face. He leads you up the stairs to the second floor and down the small hallways. “Both doors are mine, but this is the front door,” he smiles, kicking his shoes off at the mat off to the side. You do the same. “Sorry if it’s a little messy,” he says, keys jingling in his hands while he opens the door, “Maid took the week off.”

You snort when you follow him inside but he looks at you over his shoulder, “No, seriously. It was her son��s birthday on Sunday so I told her not to come in. I try to keep it together for the most part, but – I don’t know, Sasha gives it a special somethin’ I’ve never been able to do on my own.”

It’s a little stunning, his apartment. And when you think a little you mean a lot, a floor and a half with a metal spiral staircase that separates the open concept kitchen from the living room, dining room hybrid on the wall closest to the door. Oak floors that look newly shined, a big and deep sectional closing off the space so a dining room table and chairs could be placed on the other half of the room. Even the exposed brick on the back wall looks like it was just put in. His hand rests on your back while he guides you up to the next floor, the metal cold on your bare feet, shivering against the coolness of the central air whooshing through the place.

“If you want I can give you something comfy to wear and throw your stuff in the laundry,” he says when you make it to the top, opening the door, “Bathroom is just around the corner.”

“You have in-unit laundry?” you ask with a breathy sigh.

“I know, I’m so dreamy,” he winks, “You gonna take me up on my offer? There’s towels in there already.”

“Sure,” you take off the linen shirt and pass it to him, “I’ll be right out.”

The bathroom is small-ish but well put together, it looks like he had it gutted and redone to be more modern, navy blue marbled tiles in the shower with gunmetal hardware – he has an eye, you figure. You open one of the cabinets to see dark blue towels folded and fluffy, waiting for you. The image that meets you in the mirror makes you frown when you wipe your face off – a wet rat with mascara running down her cheeks, blush and lipgloss long faded. You sigh and do your best to wash off your face with what you can, peeling off your wet layers and keeping them on the counter.

“Wanna swap?” he asks while knocking on the door. You ball up your wet clothes, holding the towel up against your chest while you open the door a sliver, easing them out into his waiting hand. You can’t see him but you hear his little snicker while he pushes the dry clothes into your open palm. “You got it?” he asks. “I got it,” you say, balancing them into the room and shutting the door quietly. “Let me know if you want something different,” he offers. You shake out the folded clothes, big black sweatpants and an old, soft band tee. Corroded Coffin spelled out in jagged letters on the front with a marionette dangling from a demonic clawed hand on the back. “This is fine,” you say, slipping them on, “What band is this?” “It’s mine,” he says. You can hear his footsteps walking away from the bathroom while he talks, “Told you I was a rockstar!”

When you’re fully changed into his sweats and shirt you emerge from the bathroom, padding out of the tiles in socked feet. You can hear him downstairs putting the leftover snacks into the fridge and freezer from the cooler. Like the sleuth you are, you take in what you can to learn more about him, inching down the short hallway and peeking into one of the rooms. His bedroom looks like a bachelor’s – not in the way a guy in their twenties would have it, but it’s clear he wants to semi impress whoever he’s taking home. You admire the coziness of the space: wrought iron bed frame – likely a vintage thrift find or thousands of dollars. Dark bedding with knit blankets at the foot of the mattress, a dark green rug under the bed atop the oak floors. His walls are littered with framed photos of him with people you don’t know. Show posters under glass from the 90s, some vintage posters from the 70s. It smells like cedar and a nice hotel lobby candle, manly and unassuming. His dressers are a deep walnut wood that compliment the floors with ease – he did say he had an eye for color. Your eyes wander, looking towards the doors of a walk in closet, more art on the walls. A beautiful baroque style mirror that looks straight out of a gothic mansion leaning heavy in the corner. However, you feel heat rush to your cheeks when, slightly hidden, you see two sets of handcuffs dangling off a small hook by one of his bedside tables.

“Find anything interesting, Nancy Drew?”

His low rumble makes you jump, turning to see him leaning against the wall of the hallway with his arms crossed. You breathe out a nervous giggle, “Sorry, was just seeing the place. Your room is nice.”

“Thank you,” he nods, “I just got it redecorated — got a friend who's a killer interior designer.”

“I bet you got a friend for everything,” you say, meeting him in the hallway where he opens the door to the next room. It's dark, covered in squares of soundproofing foam. A few different guitars hang from the wall above a big desk with three monitors, computer below whirring in a low hum.

“I do,” he says, “We exchange a lot of favors. This is where I work from for the most part. Laundry is just a closet next to the bathroom. And uh…you saw downstairs, so I guess that’s the tour.” “It’s a really, really nice spot,” you confess, heading back down the spiral staircase, “Super good location, too.” “It wasn’t when I landed here in ‘04,” he leans on the railing at the top step looking down at you, “But you were prob’ly learnin’ fractions back then.” “You’re annoying,” you cross your arms at the bottom stairs staring up at his boyish grin, he winks again – your legs are jello. “I’m gonna change real quick, I made you a cup of coffee – there’s creamer in the fridge if you need it,” he calls out before disappearing from the staircase to change. You go to the fridge where there’s a litter of polaroids stuck to the stainless steel – most of them of a German Shepherd puppy posed with him and another guy, clean cut, nothing like Eddie.

“Whose the cute dog?” you ask when you hear his footsteps against the metal.

“Oh that’s my nephew, his name’s Bandit,” he says, pulling a shirt over his head while he makes it back down the spiral staircase. Your eyes linger on the tattoos on his chest, trailing down his obliques, “The dog, not the guy in the pictures.” “I figured.” “That’s my buddy Steve, he’s like my brother. I was out in Chicago for a couple months helping him get his shit back on track – we got him a puppy to keep his mind off things,” Eddie snorts, watching you pour some cream into your mug. You offer to do so for him but he shakes his head, taking it from you to put back in the fridge. “Is he okay?”

“His wife just passed away,” he says quietly. You offer him a sad face and he shrugs in that ‘What can you do?’ kind of way that guys do when they don’t know what to say, “You clothes should be all set in an hour or so.” “Oh, and then you’re kickin’ me out?” you tease, drinking your coffee up against the counter. He smirks, running his palm over the scratchy scruff of his chin and jaw. “Nah, not at all. You can stay as long as you want,” he shakes his head, his curls already starting to dry around his face – big and defined now with the summer rain, “Just didn’t think you’d wanna hang out at some old man’s house all afternoon.” “See, I was thinking how fun it would be to clear you out of your Raisin Bran,” you smirk against the lip of your mug while he makes his way towards you. He crosses his arms, taking slow steps before he’s got you caged in against the counter. If your nose knows, he definitely spritzed a spray of his cologne before he made it back down stairs – dark, spicy sandalwood enveloping you with a whisper of laundry detergent.

“I’m almost out, actually,” he grins, lids half closing while he looks down into your eyes, “But it’s okay, I have an unopened box of Kashi multigrain in one of these cabinets somewhere.” He waits for your next dig, knowing it’s coming by the quirk in your lips – you’re full of them today. “Gotta keep that blood pressure in check,” you tease again, trying to keep yourself from smiling as he leans in, a deep short chuckle coming from his throat. You little brat, it sounds like. “It’s really good for your heart health, actually,” he corrects, brows raising a little. A smirk flits across his full lips when he watches you falter a little, your pretty eyes glazing and glassy while he looms over you. His voice gets low and smoky, just like his cologne, “Maybe you could learn a thing or two from me, hm?”

You shut your eyes, biting the inside of your cheek – you can’t show him how good he’s getting you right now, not so soon, “Oh totally, like what the best pill cases are for my future arthritis medicine.” He laughs, the soft crows feet around his eyes crinkling with it. It’s a barking laugh, quick and sharp – you’re sharp, he likes that, “I can definitely do that.” His nose brushes yours and you brace yourself for what’s coming next, ready to feel him kiss you. To feel the buzz of his hands on you like how they were when he led you inside, when he put his hand on your hands in the park. His lips ghost above yours, breath fanning over your face while you take a final one before the inevitable. “You’ve got a quick mouth there, kleine,” he says smoothly. He reaches around you to grab his own mug of coffee, taking a long sip. Eddie catches the miniscule drop of your shoulders, a silent win goes off in his head. You want him to kiss you so bad and that makes him feel like a million bucks – fuck that – a trillion bucks.

He steps back, taking a sip of his coffee while the apartment gets a little darker, the storm rolling further in. “What’s ‘kleine’?” you ask, trying to regain your breath. He smiles, walking over to the dimmer on the wall and easing the lights up to a warm glow. “It’s German,” he says, looking over his shoulder, “Loosely translates to baby girl.” “You know German?” you ask, trying to not let the translation send you directly into outer space. You watch him with his coffee cup make his way over to the sectional in his open living space. It’s big and inviting, covered in a sea of throws that it looks like he collected over the years. He plops down, tilting his head toward the seat next to him to encourage you over. “I did an extended run of Cabaret in Jersey like – pffft, I don’t know, a million years ago,” he shrugs, putting his coffee on the table in front of him while you plop yourself down on the deep, squishy cushions. You swallow hard when a waft of his cologne hits you again, trying your hardest not to crawl onto his lap to take him in.

“Saw the show in ‘98 with Alan Cumming, lost my mind – I mean, really transformative for an 18 year old I guess. Years later when I moved out here I saw there was auditions for it and just got knee deep in that shit, taught myself German and everything to make it sound more authentic,” he looks forward wistfully while he recounts the story, smiling at you when he comes back to himself, “Was very helpful when I went to Berlin a few years later.”

“Oh, how was that?” you ask, “Did you have fun? I’ve never been to Europe.”

“I’d tell you about all the fun I had if I could remember it,” he grins,flopping his arm up over the back of the couch, beckoning you closer. “C’mere, honey,” he says, the quiet of his voice putting you at ease. You scooch closer to him while he pulls one of the blankets from the end of the chaise cushion and wraps it around your shoulders. With the blanket comes his arm with no hesitation, his hand resting on your shoulder and then down to your waist. “I like to marathon the Twilight Zone when it gets shitty out like this,” he explains, “You down?”

“Yeah,” you smile, “I’m down. I’ve seen a couple handfuls of episodes.”

“Yeah? What’s your favorite?” “Hm,” you think, “I think The Monsters are Due on Maple Street. It’s the first one I ever watched.” “We’ll start with that one, then.” He operates everything from an app on his phone, it surprises you that you’re not as techy as he seems to be. It’s not long before the episode starts and his hold on you becomes more intentional, more cuddly. Thunder booms overhead when the episode gets more intense, making you embarrassed when you jolt. He giggles at you, pulling you in closer – a soft whisper of I got you leaves his lips, you barely hear it. You snuggle up together while the episode ends and another starts, you tilt your head up toward him, “What’s your favorite?”

“Ooh, good question,” he smirks, “I think The Hitchhiker – it was the first one my uncle ever showed me when I started living with him. Scared the shit out of me.”

“You? Scared?” you quirk a brow, looking down at the way he holds you – assured, confident, “You don’t seem like someone who gets scared very often.”

“That’s the old age, peach,” he chuckles out, low and rumbly, “All that Raisin Bran, really switches up that fight or flight.” When you laugh he looks down at you, eyes sparkling, noses close together, “Is that funny?” “Yeah, it’s funny,” you say back just as quietly, adjusting yourself a little closer to him, “You’re funny.” His eyes flick down to your lips and then back up, you feel his hand spread out on your waist while he leans in closer, pressing up against you.

“Just funny?” he asks, watching your eyes flutter closed and then open. His lips ghosting over yours, edge of his bottom lip skating over the curve of your cupid’s bow.

“No, not just…” you breathe, too intoxicated by how close he is, how his lips and breath tease you. His hand glides up from your waist, trailing a fingertip up the side of your neck, stopping under your chin. You shiver at the touch, goosebumps flooding your arms and legs, belly flipping in somersaults. He tilts your head up, his cocking slowly to the side while his watches for your reaction.

“The show’s about to come back on.” The words are soft and quiet when they leave your mouth, your last ditch effort while fear and excitement roar in your ears. His eyes feel like magnets that you’re constantly pulled too, locking with them while he leans in.

“It’s a boring episode,” he grumbles out quietly from behind a smirk, eyes closing while the tip of your nose is brushed with his. He teases one last time before his lips press warmly against yours, parting slightly to capture them. You breathe in sharp through your nose, butterflies fluttering and slamming against your chest for release. His hands come up to lay themselves against your cheeks, now hot with excitement while they find home behind your head and neck. He’s fiending for you in the insatiable way he’s felt before, the way a man fiends for a woman.

His leads, taking control of the way the kiss moves with each tilt of his head, changing the intensity each time he breaks away to breathe and come back to you. His lips are full and plush, a soft pink that works for him, it’s almost innocent, when you know he’s anything but. He comes in again, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down gently to encourage you to let his tongue slide into your mouth.

His hands greedily pull you in by the waist now that your tongues are brushing, wrapping up together with no space between. You whimper into it, unable to keep the butterflies in your stomach at bay with his other hand roams down your back. You feel his lips stretch into a smile against yours, a growl of a chuckle coming out of his chest when he pulls away again. More kisses, soft and sweet with eyes closed, noses nuzzling before lips meet again. You climb onto his lap, he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you – tight and protective. You lead this time, a hand coming up to cup his jaw while you kiss, taking his bottom lip between your teeth this time. He relents, grip softening on you, fingertips grazing the tops of your thighs over the material of his sweatpants. Your hips roll forward over his and he pulls away.

“Steady now, sugar,” he warns, looking up at you with heavy lidded brown eyes, “I don’t fuck on the first date.” You pout a little, he likes that face, “You got some kind of moral code, old man?” “M’just not that kind of girl, baby,” he shrugs lightly, taking your hand and pressing soft kisses to your fingertips. His eyes don’t leave yours, big and innocent – like he’s challenging you, “Gotta keep you wantin’ more of me.” You can’t imagine not wanting more of him, no matter how much he gave you. “Then how come you kiss me like that?” you ask, his lips still leaving pillowy kisses against your fingers, “Like you’re hungry for me?”

“Oh, I am hungry, peach,” he smirks, tongue sliding out and gliding up the space between your first and middle finger. The tip of his tongue flicks the pads of them at the top, before taking just your fingertips into his mouth for a moment – hot and wet. Your mouth hangs open, drool collecting under your tongue at the feeling – imagining it happening exactly where you both want it to. “I think we should cut into that icebox cake,” he offers with a smile, like he didn’t just tease you into complete stupidity, “That’ll solve my problem.” He kisses your cheek as he guides you off his lap to get up, feeling lucky that he put on boxer briefs to keep his now painful erection contained – though his sweatpants left little to the imagination. Eddie comes back with two plates with heaping slices of dessert, passing you a spoon while you try your best to calm down.

“You okay?” he asks sweetly, brushing a stray hair out of your face. You nod, shoving a bite into your mouth so you don’t scream over his gentle touch and soft eyes. So you don’t yell and stomp through his living room about how bad you want him to bring you upstairs and eat you out. So you don’t tell him about the butterflies. You eat, watch, and talk – getting stories on his tattoos, you tell him about how you just started living alone, he tells you all the best spots to get furniture. You share soft little kisses while cuddled under blankets, laughing at the bad special effects and talking about the good special effects for the 60s as the episodes continue on. You fall asleep on his shoulder and he lets out a big deep breath – he likes that you already feel comfortable enough to do so. He swallows hard, doing his best to settle down his own butterflies.

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