#and what if they work. and like omg if i drop it on him he’ll be so hurt and surprised like it will really come out of nowhere and i don’t | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sunrisesfromthewest · 3 months

Text

First Encounter

|Summary: Your first encounter with Armando; based off of that one scene from bad boys ride or die. | Warnings: Getting shot at/slight suggestive language/Curse words/Slight Movie Spoilers | Trope: One sided interest or Enemies to Lovers| Notes: Hopefully you guys enjoy it's my first-time writing a x reader. | (Y/N/N=Your Nickname)

Here's all the parts I have so far: 1 2 3 4 5 6

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After seeing the news about your dad, Uncle Mike, and some guy, you decided to leave work early. Confused on why there all the sudden wanted fugitives,you quickly drive over to Dorns place knowing that he’ll have answers.

Parking your car, you grab your purse and make your way towards his lake house. Since you hang out with him and Kelly 24/7 outside of work, you just walk in without knocking. Which was a mistake on your end because not even a second later you’re being shot at, and you could hear a few people yell in shock. Dropping to the floor you curse and yell "It's me stop fucking shooting it’s me Y/N!” Looking up you see Kelly pointing the gun at the place you were just standing at with a shock expression. “Girl what the hell you got going on” you said, scared to stand up. Lowering her gun she said “OMG, Y/N, I’m so so—” Before she could finish you hear “Oh lord, you shooting at my baby!", recognizing the voice you look around to spot your father Marcus, running towards you with a worried look.

As he’s checking over you, you hear him sigh with relief after seeing you were fine. " Dad? what the fuck is going on!", standing up you dust off your nurse uniform, with a confused expression.

Looking around the room you noticed shocked expressions from Dorn and Kelly who had put her gun down. Spotting Uncle Mike and the man that was with him on the news your eyes squint even more, Tryna put two to two together. “Y/N/N, aren’t you supposed to be at work, "Marcus says confused on why his daughter was there. Still shaking up from being shot at you say, “I was at work but when I was making my rounds with my patients, I seen you guys on the news ......but shit! I should be asking the questions! why are you, Uncle Mike and this dude, wanted fugitives …. matter of fact," turning towards the man, "Who are you?”. Seeing the man smirk he says," Someone you can get well acquainted with.” Just as you’re about to say something smart, your dad cuts in dramatically "Aye hell nah man! No hitting on my daughter, Mike get your son!”

Shocked you run your eyes over the Latino man which you can now see have some of Mike's features, “Uncle Mike since when you have a son, and why the hell is he dressed up like a redneck.” Running your eyes frantically over their forms you back up while pointing your hands at them and say, “matter of fact why are you all dress up like that.” Feeling your dad pull you aside to calm you down, he explains everything that happened these past few days. After getting the run down on what was going on, you rub at your eyes with a stressed sigh." So that’s Armando," you said shaking your head "I would’ve pulled my gun out as well if I’ve seen him, dad didn’t he almost kill you and Uncle Mike!", you said feeling frustrated about the situation. “Y/n,I know this is awkward, but he has evidence to prove that Captain Conrad is innocent.” Sighing again “Okay, fine but if he tries some shit just know Imma make him taste the rainbow.” Hearing laughter you look back to see the Latino leaning against the kitchen counter looking at you with a smirk on his face. Seeing your father look at you with a don’t do it expression made you huff and ignore Armando’s laughter. Before you could move to grab your purse off the floor your dad stops you again and whispered, "How long Kelly and Dorn been messing around, "letting out a short laugh you say, “For a minute now” Seeing your father smirk, and send a look to Mike, you knew they were up to no good but chose to ignore it.

Walking to the door to grab your purse and its spilled contents you feel eyes on you, gazing up you see Armando watching you with an unreadable expression. Rolling your eyes you pick up the rest of your stuff, but as you reach for your lip gloss, a hand grabs it. Looking up your face to face with the Latino himself, annoyed you extend your hand out, while raising an eyebrow. Watching his amused expression, you sigh and roll your eyes.

“Boy if you don’t give me my stuff,Imma punch you in the throat." Hearing him chuckle made you more agitated, but you kept your cool. As he holds out the gloss to you with a smirk you huff and reach out to snatch it, only for him to pull it back in a teasing manner.

Looking at him as if he’s grown two heads, you’re about to cuss him out when he says”Demasiado bonita para una boca como esa”. Furrowing your eyebrows you say “What?” Armando’s smirk widens as he says, “I said to pretty for a mouth like that.” Scoffing you snatch your lip gloss out his hands, putting it in your purse as you stand up and say, “First of all, my mouth is only like this because you almost killed my dad not too long ago, and secondly I can say whatever the fuck I want cause last I checked imma grown women.” Watching his eyes glance down at your body, you hear a low whistle, "You sure are, but if you ever wanna fix that mouth of yours, "he pauses allowing his pretty brown eyes to trail back up to yours,”aquí estaré mami” (I’ll be here mommy)

Shocked slightly at his boldness, you say “Boy if you don’t get out of m---,” but before you could finish, he was called over by Mike. At first Armando ignores him and continues to admire you until your dad says, “Boy get your ass over here," which made you break eye contact with him and look away.

Glancing back up you couldn't help but admire his physique as well but as he reaches the others by the computer set up. He glances back to see you staring which resulted in him sending you a wink. Rolling your eyes you turn away with a smirk," You your daddy son for sure," you say to yourself with a smile.

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Notes: Let me know if you guys want a part 2 :) and pls go see the movie it's so good

#armando aretas #bad boys ride or die #x black fem reader #Armando #jacob scipio #armando armas #bad boys #new writers on tumblr #Armando aretas x black reader #mike lowrey #marcus burnett #Will smith #martin lawrence #Armando x daughter Burnett reader #First Encounter Series

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nadvs · 2 months

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I'm really sorry to request this for sleeping with the enemy but I'm a sucker for angsty fics.

But what about their first fight as a couple? Maybe they're fighting over a stupid thing and they are both petty and don't want the other person to be right?

(or they have makeup sex and everything turns out fine lol)

OMG I LOVE IT SO MUCH. DON’T BE SORRY. angst will always be my fav 🙂‍↕️ (the length of this blurb is proof)

they got into arguments as friends but as a couple, they get way more emotional. they’re both confrontational and stubborn and have commitment issues that come out in different ways so it gets ugly 🫣

based on this fic

they’ve been official for almost a month now. as friends, their arguments were silly and usually short-lived, but this fight is nothing like those.

it was a saturday night at a house party on rafe’s college campus. they split off at one point in the night and when she went searching for him, she found him in the backyard, standing with a group of guys she hadn’t seen before.

the smell of weed hit her instantly. panic set in. if he gets caught doing drugs, his future is shot. one random drug test and he’ll be kicked off the team.

she approached him, resting her hand on his bicep, and said to him quietly but sternly, “what are you doing?”

rafe was drunk but caught the sharpness of her tone, looking down at her with a scowl.

“what’s with the attitude?” he muttered.

“are you serious? you can’t smoke. don’t be stupid about this.”

one of his friends overheard, letting out a dramatic hoot as he held a lit joint to his lips, clearly taunting rafe for being scolded.

“just go back inside,” rafe snapped.

his buddies jeered, chuckles scattering over the group.

“what?” she said.

he wriggled out of her grip, looking away from her. she huffed in disbelief before storming off, anger rushing through her.

it’s tuesday afternoon and they still haven’t spoken. all over a ten-second conversation. it’s how their arguments would always go as friends. both of them get mad, fast, then don’t talk for a few days.

but this is different. it hurts way more.

rafe went looking for her at the party later on and realized she left. he was her ride there so he called her a few times, worried about how she was getting back.

when she didn’t answer, he texted her: at least tell me you got home. she replied: home.

now, she’s sitting at a cafe on her campus, working on a paper. she opens their text conversation a few times a day, hoping maybe she just missed a notification from him. but all she sees is their last bitter exchange.

and even though she’s pissed beyond belief that he disrespected her, she’s following his home game today. she watches every game she can.

it’s been a close one for three quarters now. she has the stream playing, taking up half of her laptop screen. when the fourth quarter starts, she watches rafe continue to dominate the court.

but her stomach drops when she sees him fall after a collision with another player. because he doesn’t get up.

she makes the stream fullscreen, watching with wide eyes. he limps off the court. he doesn’t come back out for the rest of the game. her heart is twisted in a knot.

even though she’s angry and hurt that he hasn’t looked past his pride and called or texted, she already knows that she’s going to go over to his place later to check up on him.

it’s almost sunset when rafe parks his car, her campus blanketed in a warm orange glow. the past few days have been hell. now his ankle is throbbing in pain. and he still hasn’t talked to his girl.

he hates this. the way he’s always the first to make contact after an argument. it makes him feel like he has no backbone. he should stay mad at her. she assumed the worst. embarrassed him. she should be running after him.

he’s parked in front of her dorm building. he pulls out his phone and stares at his call history for a moment before tapping her name.

it rings a couple times. then he hears her voice.

“hello?”

“come downstairs,” he says sternly. “i’m in front of your building.”

she pauses before she answers.

“i’m not home. i’m at your house,” she tells him. “i just got here. liam told me you went out. you should be resting.”

rafe rakes his hand through his hair. even though their tones are terse, his stomach flips knowing that she probably still watched his game today. that she came over to see him after his injury. she sounds worried.

“stay there,” he says.

she hangs up, looking at liam from her spot on the house’s front step.

“i’ll just wait in his room,” she says. rafe’s teammate nods and steps aside so she can come in. after she asked him if rafe was home, her next question was what happened.

apparently, he sprained his ankle. she’s glad it’s not as bad as she imagined.

as she climbs up the stairs, liam calls her name.

“not my business,” he says when she turns to look at him, “but please figure this shit out. he’s been extra bitchy lately.”

she chuckles despite herself.

“did he tell you what happened?” she asks.

“no. he just keeps sulking. a bunch of us tried to get him to talk about it, but we got told to fuck off,” liam says with an indifferent shrug.

“i’ve never seen him like this, so i hope you guys fix whatever’s wrong. i know he can be…” he doesn’t find the right word. “but i can tell he really likes you. for what it’s worth.”

“thanks,” she says.

when rafe enters his room and sees her sitting in his desk chair, his body goes warm with a mixture of anger and longing. he missed her. looking at her. hearing her voice.

“you went to my dorm?” she asks.

he shuts the door behind him, leaving his keys and phone on his nightstand before sitting on his bed.

“yeah,” he says flatly. “to talk.”

he almost says something about how of course he’s the one who reached out first to try to mend things, but she must’ve come over with that same intention. or maybe not. maybe she came over to break up with him.

her eyes dart down to his ankle, her face crumpling with sadness.

“liam told me it’s a sprain. how bad is it?” she asks.

“bad,” rafe says, mostly so she’ll feel bad for him. when he sees her frown, he realizes it worked, and then he feels rotten for trying to manipulate her.

she has that effect on him. she makes him want to be a better person. he doesn’t want to be manipulative or cruel or angry. not with her.

“it’ll heal in a few days,” he adds to ease her worry. “i’m good. it’s nothing.”

“okay,” she says, clearly relieved. “i brought some ibuprofen in case you don’t have any.”

“why?” he says, still on edge.

“i’m still gonna worry about you. no matter how much you hurt me.”

she looks down as she rifles through her bag, pulling out the pill bottle and tossing it on his mattress.

“i hurt you?” he mutters, his tone sharp. “you think this is on me?”

“are you for real?” she matches his intensity immediately, her voice going louder. “you basically told me to get lost in front of your friends. they laughed at me.”

“you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” he scoffs with a pissed off, disbelieving smile. what she did was way worse.

“do you have any idea how humilating that was?” she snaps. rafe stares at her with a tight jaw. “i was worried. they do random drug tests all the time. what if they found it in your system? and you fucked up your future just because you wanted to get high at a random party?”

“you think i need you to do that for me?” he shouts. “think back. did you see me smoking? did i look high?”

“you were standing in a circle of guys who were passing a joint around,” she says. “it’s not crazy of me to assume.”

he shakes his head and scoffs.

“rafe,” she says evenly. “you disappeared. you looked like you were on something. i got freaked out.”

“and then called me stupid.”

“i didn’t call you stupid,” she counters. but she knows her argument is flimsy. her impulsive words were harsh. telling him don’t be stupid was basically calling him stupid.

“oh, my god,” he mutters angrily. he stands up, hands on his hips as he paces over to the door and back to the bed, trying to cool down, even on his sore ankle. “imagine i came up to you like that in front of your friends. you’d lose your shit way worse than i did.”

“please sit down,” she says. “you need to keep your weight off your foot.”

he doesn’t listen.

“i didn’t find you to fight with you that night,” she continues. she takes a deep breath, anger rushing through her veins. “i was just worried. and then you were mean to me, saying something about my attitude-”

“yeah, because you came over with a stick up your ass,” he says. “it was so embarrassing that you talked to me like that in front of people.”

“what, because i’m a girl?” she scoffs.

“because you’re my girl,” he snaps.

she stills, staring at him as he stands in the middle of his room. a few moments of tense silence sink between them.

“i had a few drinks,” he says. “that was all. i know about the drug tests. i’m not an idiot. i’ve been playing since freshman year. i was hanging out with some guys i know from one of my classes. they were smoking. i wasn’t. that was it.”

she lets his words wash over her.

“please sit down,” she finally says again, tears pricking her eyes. “please. i don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

she sniffles. he gives in and sits back down, elbows on his knees as he sits hunched over.

rafe swallows the lump in his throat, his gaze on the floor. he’s not used to someone caring about him this much. he’s always only had himself. even when he’s yelling at her, she’s pleading for him to rest.

he hates the feeling of being told what to do. but when it comes from her, it’s because she gives a shit. and that makes it feel almost okay.

“i’m sorry,” she says, her tone wobbly. “i shouldn’t have used that word. i shouldn’t have embarrassed you. i don’t think you’re stupid. i just hated the thought of you losing everything you’ve worked so hard for.”

she sighs shakily.

“but when you talked to me like that…” she says. “it made me feel so… small. they were laughing at me and you weren’t on my side. it reminded me of how those idiots started treating me after we started seeing each other.”

rafe’s lips twist tightly. so many of the guys on the team she cheers for and even some of the girls on her squad started alienating her, treating her like she was a traitor just for hanging out with rafe.

he knows how much that messed with her head. then the person she went through all that for embarrassed her in front of some guys who don’t even matter.

finally, his gaze meets hers. her stomach sinks once she sees that his eyes are glossy. she’s never seen him cry. he’s this affected? she thought he was just mad at her for being a bitch to him in front of his buddies.

“you told me before,” he mutters, “that you expect every relationship to crash and burn. you expect the worst from every guy you date.”

she blinks back tears. she did tell him that, word for word, back when they were just friends. it was a moment of drunken vulnerability when she was talking about how every man she’d ever been with just let her down. she didn’t think he’d remember it. that he’d apply it to himself.

“it was like you made your mind up,” he says. “you were already sure i was hiding something from you, already fucking something up.”

her forehead crinkles. she didn’t think that he’d see it like that.

“listen, i…” rafe exhales slowly. his anger has almost completely dissolved now that she actually apologized. now that she said it, he feels like he doesn’t deserve the sorry. she was just looking out for him. “i’m sorry, too. i was an asshole.”

she bites her lip. he doesn’t say more. she waits. and waits. and waits. but that’s his entire apology.

“okay,” she finally says, unsure of how to resolve this. she’s still carrying the weight of pain he caused her. he doesn’t seem to get how badly he hurt her.

“okay what?” he asks. his mind is racing. “okay like, this is over? you’re done?”

“no,” she says, her brows furrowing.

rafe looks miserable, sorrow etched into his features, and even though she’s still hurting, still mad at him, she seals the distance between them, moving to settle on the bed across from him.

“you know how shitty these past few days have been?” he says. “hoping you’ll text me but at the same time, hoping you won’t because what if the message says you want to go back to being friends? or just never want to see me again at all?”

the ache in her heart doubles.

“it didn’t cross my mind once to break up with you,” she says.

“really?” rafe meets her eyes again. he looks genuinely shocked by her words. she had no idea he was so afraid of being left. so sure that she’d give up on him so quickly.

“of course,” she whispers.

the tension in rafe’s chest slowly loosens from her reassurance. he comes closer, his guard crumbling. her hand is on his knee. he puts his hand over hers.

“this has been rough on me, too,” she says, sniffling. “i kept waiting for you to call. i hated that you brushed me off like that. and now it’s like you don’t even get how much you hurt me.”

this is a punch to his gut. but he deserves it.

“i was pissed. i wasn’t thinking straight,” he says. “and i… i called that night, remember? like five times. you only texted me that you were home and you never called back.”

her breath shakes again. he didn’t do enough. he can see that now.

“i should’ve kept calling,” he says. “i’m sorry, baby. i am. you were just looking out for me. i fucked up.”

his words make her anger lose its sharpness.

“so did i. i don’t expect the worst from you,” she mumbles. “i know how hard you work. i know you’re serious about basketball. i just… panicked.”

rafe needs to kiss her, to have the tangible evidence that she still wants him as bad as he wants her.

he leans forward, giving her the softest kiss he’s ever given her. he doesn’t have it in him to pull back. not when he’s missed her so bad that it hurts.

he gently presses his palm against the back of her neck, guiding her to nuzzle into him. he kisses the top of her head as she rests her cheek on his shoulder.

“i miss you so goddamn much,” he admits. “you have no idea how much i think about you.”

he feels her nod against him.

“me, too.”

“i’m sorry, okay?” rafe says.

“me, too,” she echoes.

they stay like that, curled into each other, hearts starting to beat in unison again.

as she breathes rafe’s scent, a warmth that she’s committed to memory now, she realizes they’re carrying more baggage than she would’ve expected.

maybe she does assume he’ll lie to her and disappoint her. it must be a knee-jerk reaction after so many failed relationships.

and he clearly has a fear of being left. he looked like he didn’t even believe her when she told him she wasn’t considering breaking up with him. maybe he never let anyone in before because he was sure they’d eventually bail on him.

but she knew they were both stubborn. both explosive. both their own version of damaged. it took three days and a long, tense argument to get here, touching again.

beneath the ache they share, she has hope. they came to each other to resolve this. this was their first fight as a couple and they made it out to the other end.

it might be hard sometimes. but as she feels his arms encircle her, heavy and warm and comforting, she knows it’s worth it. he’s worth it.

she lets out another shaky breath and he kisses the top of her head again. he can’t lose her. he won’t survive it if he does.

#ask #swteblurb #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and reader #rafe cameron and y/n

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melobin · 13 days

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omg did you see the eunseok day off thing? the moment he started making that bee thing I just wanted to kiss him until I pass out ughh 😵‍💫😵‍💫 anywaysss could you please do how riize would react to you trying distract them with kisses (or even more iykyk) while they're trying to put some new toy/figure together? or even just eunseok because i'm literally crawling for this man rn

if you can't it's ok tho, just needed to put this thought outta me before it ate me alive 🤭🤭

trying to distract them

shotaro

shotaro would let you, no questions asked. unless he’s doing something really important, all of his attention is going to you. he’s more than happy to drop what he’s doing to focus on you and let you kiss him. would put the thing down immediately and forget about it for as long as you’re with him for, all you have to do is litter little kisses against his cheek and he’s all yours. will definitely try to put it together later on but would find himself distracted thinking about you instead.

eunseok

eunseok would ignore you on purpose, just to tease you. realistically, he doesn’t care about the toy he’s building but he loves the way you whine when you don’t get his attention when you want it. will wait till you’re sulking and sighing and going to leave before he drops the toy and pulls you down onto his lap, laughing at you for being so needy for his attention. kisses you and tells you he’ll make it up to you for teasing you, kissing your neck whilst running his fingers over your body. wouldn’t be long until his fingers are inching under your clothes and pushing inside of you. suddenly thinks the best thing to do is to fuck you and then let you cuddle sleepily into him whilst he finishes building it.

sungchan

sungchan is a wild card, his reaction depends on how he’s feeling that day. he could melt under your touch and drop what he’s doing instantly, leaning into the kiss and holding you as close as he can or he’ll tease you and tell you he’ll get to you when he’s done. giggling when you whine about how long he’s taking and kiss at his neck. sungchan is really easy to work up and make hard so it isn’t difficult for you to get him where you want him, he just has too much self restraint and will make himself suffer just to tease you that little bit more. will make it up to you after by sitting you on the very table he was using and eating you out until you’re crying.

wonbin

wonbin is similar to sungchan in the sense that his reaction depends on how he’s feeling that day, he’s more likely to cave right away than to tease you though. when he’s feeling more teasing, he’ll taunt you. copying your whines when he doesn’t react to your kisses with a smile on his face whilst he fiddles with the piece of the toy, turns to you smiling whilst you’re pouting back at him. ends up putting the toy down and pulling you into him whilst telling you how cute you are, kissing you as an apology and promising to give you all of his attention once he’s done. on the flip side, most of the time wonbin would end up caving into your touch and letting you climb onto his lap so you can kiss him properly, gets so lost into it that the two of you end up making out for hours before you even think about moving to the bed.

seunghan

seunghan would be a difficult one to properly distract, partly because he’s invested in whatever he’s building but also because he likes to make you work for it. he wants you to be pawing at him shirt and whining for his attention whilst kissing at his neck, all whilst he laughs and tells you he’ll be done soon and to be patient. he’s not afraid to grab you to make you look at him and ask you to be a good girl whilst he finishes what he’s doing, promises he’ll make you feel good when he’s done but for now he needs you to be a good girl and wait. will reward you so well if you do wait but if you don’t then he’s more than happy to make you cock warm him whilst he continues doing his toy.

sohee

sohee wants to attempt to not be interested in the way you kiss his skin gently and run you fingers over his lap, but he can’t. ends up pushing a piece of the toy together a little too hard causing it to slip out of his hands and make a loud noise against the table startling you both. that’s when he gives in and leans back, running his hand through his hair before looking at you and letting you kiss him, sighing when you giggle about him getting frustrated. he’s the one who ends up pouting, waiting for you to stop giggling before kissing him.

anton

anton would have no composure at all and would give up even thinking about putting the toy together, the moment you sat next to him his thoughts would be gone and as soon as you press your lips to his skin he’s done for. he’s instantly turning his head so he can kiss you properly, his arms wrapping around you so he can pull you to sit on his lap. the toy wouldn’t even cross his mind when he has his lips on yours, though it would be a fun game to make him put it together whilst jerking him off and not letting him cum until it’s completely finished !!

#✧ melody answers #✧ anon #✧ hard hours ✧#riize smut #shotaro smut #eunseok smut #sungchan smut #wonbin smut #seunghan smut #sohee smut #anton smut

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j-onedrabbles · 1 year

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What do you think about Stray Kids and partner privileges, what do they let their partner get away with the other members can't? This keeps me up at night I won't lie to you

Hmmmmm good question lovely. Here are my thoughts;

wc: 0.7k

Chan ♡ chan definitely let's you get away with distracting him from work. He knows you’re really just trying to get him to take a break and take care of himself, but he rarely listens to anyone else when they do that. You could walk over to him when he’s busy working on a track and just pull the headphones off him, don't forget to kiss his cheek too! “Break time baby.”

He’ll immediately pull you down into his lap and cuddle up with you. He may try and keep working but the way you're giving him little kisses when you see him go for the computer mouse has him stopping and just loving on you until he moves you guys over to the bed.

Lee Know ♡ partner privileges with Lee Know are pretty much the same as Han privileges with him. Just a lot more kisses and cuddle than Han gets.

literally whatever you want from this man, at anytime, it’s yours. there's times where he will quite literally drop everything for you too, even if he's working. He will figure out a way to get you want you want or be where you need him to be

Changbin ♡ you could get away with getting him not to go to the gym. But even then, he'll opt to just take you with him and you just watch until he's done with his work out— he will smother you in sweaty kiss and hugs after though.

But if you're staying over and he plans to go to the gym, just through some puppy dog eyes and pouty lips his way and he'll do it later. His baby is more important than some weights, same thing if he's staying over at yours. Cuddle > gym when he's with you

Hyunjin ♡ jewelry sharing. He has so much omg. But he thinks it's cute when you ask if you can barrow a necklace just because you think it would good with you're outfit that day.

At some point would offer a piece of jewelry when you felt like your outfit was missing something. He'd take one look and just now he has a piece that would be perfect. Also just finds it a little funny when you guys are out and someone compliments his jewelry on you.

Han ♡ drink sharing. Man loves his americano's. My lord. I don't think he would share his coffee with anyone but if you asked for a sip, he could never say no. As long as you give him a kiss after!

It would be any drink too, especially if it was something you didn't drink often and just wanted to try that he had, he doesn't mind. Just random every day things when you're just parched enough for one sip of something and he just happens to have a drink. He'll share a little.

Felix ♡ video games! man's possessive of his computer probably—i mean, he did build it himself. It would probably start with just sitting on his lap while he plays then him asking you if you want a turn.

Even if you aren't good at whatever he's playing, he'll teach you. Always will offer you to go a round when you're hanging out and he was playing before you showed up. Find's games you could play together too! Might even offer to build you your own pc if you want

Seungmin ♡ clothes! I don't him really sharing his clothes with any one but his s/o. But he loves when you ask to borrow a shirt or a sweater from him. He will help you style it too.

He will sit there for hours with you planning out outfits for you. Maybe he'll even base it around a piece of jewelry you had. He's always offering a shirt, sweater, jacket, or whatever of his. Has so much fun with it

I.N ♡ You are the only person he willingly cuddle with. Rejects the guys all the time but you? He's just as clingy as the rest of the guys. Always wanting to hold onto you somehow.

Comes home to you and lays his head on your chest and hugs your waist. The first time it happened, the guys were really confused but gradually got used to it, thinking their maknae was starting to actually like kinship. After an attempt of trying to kiss his cheek and him shoving them away, they figured it was just because it was you

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tojisun · 5 months

Note

was struck suddenly by this thought

okay biker!simon but he's got his shit together and he's hubby and you have a kid (2yo?) with him

in India, bikes are the primary mode of transport everyone has one and lots of the kids love love going on rides. my 2nd cousin (?) (relations are diff there) he's 2 years old and he's the cutest thing in the world and he will not sleep at night until his dad takes him out for a spin on the bike. he comes back all smiley and sleepy it's so fucking cute omfg

IMAGINE THAT WITH SIMON

( bikes aren't seen as dangerous in India bc literally every household has one and people will carry their babies on the bike. ik it's different elsewhere but I just cannot stop thinking ab simon going for a spin with his baby :((( )

love you, drink water sunny 👊

ur cousin not sleeping till he gets a ride is so cute omg :((( such a cutie pie 🥺

but no absolutely!! i feel like biker!simon would spoil his kids sm that they get demanding when he doesn’t get to take them out on a ride

thinking about your little two year old girl waiting patiently in the living room while her dad washes up (simon closed the shop today), with her little helmet already strapped in. the tv is on for reruns of cartoons but she’s distracted, squirming at every drop of sound, thinking it’s simon finally out of the shower.

you chuckle as you rub her back, trying to make her calm down, but you guess her exhaustion and excitement are finally mixing, making one whiny baby. you pitch forward to press a kiss on her little fist.

that, at least, makes her look at you.

“excited, little pea?” you ask, brushing your thumb on the apple of her cheek.

“mhmm!” she says before turning back to her cartoons.

what a blessing she is.

simon pops out of the corner just then, crooning, “ready to go, peanut?”

your daughter squeals, scrambling to get off the couch to run towards simon. simon laughs, crouching down and opening his arms to embrace her, but she’s barrelling into him too fast, unable to stop, and it knocks her helmet against his chin.

“jesus–”

“daddy, go!” is all what your daughter says, so impatient and spoiled, and simon just coos again, finding no fault in her little demands.

“of course, of course.” he stands up. “let’s say bye to mommy?”

you stand then too, moving close to them carefully. your beloved angel turns at hearing simon’s words, her pudgy cheeks now rounder with her smile. “buh-bye!”

“bye bye, darlin’,” you reply, kissing her little fist again. “have fun with daddy, yeah? tell him to ride carefully because he’s got my whole world with him.” this you say to simon, playful and teasing.

simon scrunches his nose in reply—fatherhood looks so beautiful in him.

“don’t worry, love. y’know i’ll do everything to keep her safe,” he murmurs, pressing close to breathe you in. “we’ll be home in twenty. see you then.”

you kiss his jaw. “see you then, baby.”

your little angel waves her goodbyes again before they disappear to the garage, simon’s quiet murmurs filling up the space while your daughter hums in replies, still not yet ready for much words.

simon hefts himself up and places her in front of him, making sure that her helmet is secured and her jacket’s all zipped up. it is a quiet routine, one that simon completes with ferocious intensity. he’s never once skipped out on this, never once had been lazy with it, and it makes your heart warm.

he looks up after his final check, turning to you with one last wave, before he’s snapping his visor down and revving the engine. then they’re off.

later, simon will come back with a slumbering princess in his arms. you two make a quiet work on removing her helmet and her shoes, before simon takes her to sleep. then, he’ll slide in beside you, pull you in for cuddles, before recounting their little adventure to you.

IM SORRY THIS BECAME A RAMBLE AND ITS NOT EVEN ABOUT THE BIKE RIDE BUT ITS JUST :((( dad simon is so so precious

love you too vi and yes im gulping down rn as i type!!

#violet <3 #ask #biker!simon #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #dad simon riley

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thriftedtchotchkes · 1 year

Note

hi ur writing is so so good, makes me go insane ur amazing

okay so could you do a normally dom!joel but one day he has the day off and reader doesn’t, so all he does ALL day is think about her. When she gets home he’s worked himself into a frenzy, desperate asf. So instead of his usual dominant self he’s desperate!joel whining and whimpering for her to touch him, make him cum, moaning in her ear and grinding against her.. all of that fun stuff 🤭

thank u for ur time, pls excuse the depravity 🙏🏾

hi nonie! loooved this request so much. i got a similar one from @luvrxbunny, so i combined them a bit and made it a lil longer. hope you both enjoy!

omg ur so amazing ily pls pls pls pls pls pls pls can i have dom!joel with a praise kink 🙏🏾 he doesn’t even really realize it but reader does and she’s just pummels him with praise while he’s fucking her and he does feral, moaning and grunting in her ear i’m sorry im so feral

way too damn needy

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: 18+ MDNI, pre-outbreak, language, smut, dom-turned-sub!joel, gentle-dom!reader, praise kink, masturbation, phone sex, blowjobs, face fucking, lil fluff

word count: 2.8k

What a way to spend his only day off in weeks. The weather’s perfect for playing his guitar on the porch, and he thought he’d even squeeze in a swim before getting started on building that new bedside table for Sarah. He had plans.

But instead, Joel’s stalking around his living room like a caged animal in an endless loop of waiting, waiting, waiting.

It’s like he’s been transported back to his teenage years when every guy in a relationship followed his girl around like a puppy, always at her beck and call. Wondering what she was doing, if she was thinking about him. Except he wasn’t even that guy in high school. Not then, and definitely not now.

There’s really no logical reason for him to be this wound up, totally unable to do a single thing on his to-do list just because you’re not home. Leave it to your company to be the only one in the entire country that doesn’t give their employees Labor Day off.

That’s probably a gross exaggeration, but what does he care? He’s been tragically affected by this clearly personal transgression, and has to wait…two more hours? Seriously? You normally leave around 5:30, which means you’re home by six, and he’s not sure he can wait that long.

The sad fact of it all is that he’s already wasted almost the entire day not enjoying all of those relaxing activities he’d planned for. What’s even sadder is that he’s been half-hard for most of it, intermittently pausing his ridiculous pacing to grind the heel of his hand into his crotch for relief. Petulantly waiting for you to get home and take care of it for him.

Well, another hour’s gone by, it’s 5 pm, and he’s officially past his limit. At this point, he's probably better off handling it himself, at least until you're finally back. Then, you’re all his.

He’ll fill you up with every last bit of pent-up frustration he’s felt since you left the house this morning, making you regret not just calling in sick. You might have to tomorrow after he’s done with you.

Joel drops onto the couch, laying to face the door so he’s the first thing you see when you walk in. Pulling his boxers and jeans down just enough to get his cock out, he wraps his hand around himself, immediately hissing out a breath through his teeth. Shit, he’s been hard for hours and just that slight touch already has him leaking precum all over his fingers.

For a moment, he worries that maybe he’s a little too worked up, that he’ll cum way before he gets the chance to make you sorry for making him feel so desperate. So needy. And that makes him mad.

It should be your fingers covered in precum, your plush lips sucking him down to the hilt, and your pretty pussy aching with the need to have him inside you. Funny how you’re always so good for him, except today when he needs you the most.

His hand starts to move languidly before he can stop it, the slide wet and tight, just like he knows you’ll be. But it’s not you, and that makes him even angrier. If he can’t feel you the way he needs to, then maybe your voice will hold him over until he can.

The phone only rings twice before you pick up.

“Baby, I’m busy right now. What’s up?” you answer, slightly out of breath.

It’s cruel, but Joel honestly doesn’t give a shit if you’re busy. Not when his mind is this clouded with thoughts of you on your back, breathing much heavier than you are right now. But he manages to keep that to himself.

“You comin’ home soon?” he asks gruffly, still tugging on his cock, head thrown back on the armrest of the couch.

“Uhh, probably leaving in about…a half hour?” Your voice lilts like you had to double-check the time. “Everything okay?”

“Any chance you can leave now?” he tries again, side-stepping your question.

The desperation in his voice is obvious, and it makes him feel even more pathetic. He wonders if you can hear it. Part of him hopes you can.

“Why, did something happen? Is Sarah okay?” you ask, clearly concerned.

“S’fine, everythin’s fine. Just miss ya, s’all," he lies shakily.

Of course, he misses you, but nothing here is fine. His angrily weeping cock is a testament to that. He's all but fucking into his own fist now, hips bucking off the couch as he pants into the phone.

“Joel, what—are you touching yourself? Jesus,” you mumble, and he can hear your heels clacking against the floor like you’re walking somewhere. Quickly.

“Been thinkin’ about ya all damn day. Dunno why you went into work on a fuckin’ holiday,” he grunts. “Should’a been here with me, on your back, beggin’ for my cock like a good girl.”

You inhale sharply and, though muted through the phone, he hears it loud and clear, dribbling more precum down his shaft. Unfamiliar voices start to filter through the speaker, so he’s guessing you can’t say much.

And that’s okay. He has no problem filling the silence. Joel loves talking to you while he’s getting off.

“Had me feelin’ needy today, babygirl. Y’know I don’t like that,” he says dangerously. Your heels hit the ground faster, and he subconsciously matches his strokes to your pace. “Thought I was losin’ my mind for a while there. Was just about ready to let you do whatever you wanted to me when you got home, s’long as I got to fuck that tight pussy of yours.”

A door slams in the background, then all he can hear is you panting heavily in his ear. But when you finally speak again, your voice sounds different. Less like his good girl, and more like someone who knows they hold all the power.

“Oh, poor baby,” you coo, catching him off guard. “Did I leave you alone too long?”

He can tell you’re mocking him but, for some reason, his resolve starts to slip away more and more with every violent throb of his cock. Maybe it’s desperation. Or maybe he just likes it.

“I’m so sorry,” you continue, murmuring sweetly in his ear. “I can make it all better…but only if you wait a little longer. Can you do that for me? Be my good boy.”

He bites back a groan, gripping the base of his cock hard to keep from cumming then and there. That's...new. And sexy as hell. He's still frenzied to the point of no return, but you also might've rewired something in his brain because he suddenly realizes he does want to be your good boy. Badly.

Fuck, he hopes you get home soon.

That last half hour of work was torture. You spent the entirety of it, and the car ride afterward, marinating in your soaked underwear, anticipating everything Joel has in store for you when you get home.

You're not sure what came over you on the phone, but it sounded like he enjoyed it. A lot. It’s a dynamic you’d never thought to try in your relationship, not with Joel’s domineering personality. The fact that he went along with it at all must mean he’s going through it, and that’s something you’re a little too excited to see.

The house is quiet when you walk in, save for the sound of your keys dropping into the bowl by the door. You turn to hang your bag on a nearby coat rack, and that's when you see him.

Joel, still lying on the couch exactly where you assume you left him after your call, with his hand squeezed tight around the base of his cock. He looks like a goddamn mess—sweating, hard as a rock, and leaking all over himself. His eyes are a little wild, more so than you've ever seen them. Christ, poor baby. You didn’t think your absence would affect him this much.

“Aw, sweet boy. Is all this for me?" you smile softly. He sucks in a breath, visibly twitching in his hand, and your smile widens. “Sit up, I can’t play with you like this.”

He complies immediately, and it sends a shiver up your spine. You love how well he’s listening, even though he almost looks like he's in pain after being in this state for so long. For that, you think he deserves a reward.

So, you give him one—the one he’s been waiting for all day. You undress for him, maintaining eye contact as you slip off your stuffy business attire, finally ridding yourself of your oppressively sticky underwear.

Dropping to your knees between his legs, you gaze up at him affectionately, mouth inches away from his drooling cock.

"Tell me what you want," you lean in, pressing your lips against the smooth, velvety skin. "Still wanna fuck me? Get me on my back, begging for it?"

Your tongue darts out to taste him, and you moan, licking a wide stripe up to wrap your lips around the tip. He's salty and heady, and so fucking delicious, but he still hasn't answered you. Instead, his fingers thread through your hair, guiding you down halfway and back up, shallowly fucking your mouth.

"I—fuck, please...," he's struggling with his words, whimpering around each syllable. "—baby, I waited...been good, did what ya said."

You nod your head understandingly, or at least try to as you continue to let him thrust into the inside of your cheek. His eyes are hyperfocused on the way your skin bulges around him, each stroke sending a shockwave of pleasure straight down his tightening balls.

"Christ, you feel good. Worth waitin' for, so fuckin' worth it," he rasps, his fingers tensing in your hair. "Need ya to—," he repositions your head so he can thrust further, deeper until he's nudging the back of your throat, "—ngh, make me cum. Suck harder, baby, please."

Soft, hiccuped moans escape his parted lips, increasing in volume when you start to drool around him, down your chin and onto your breasts. You can tell he's about to burst, feeling his skin growing taut against your tongue.

"M'gonna—haah, gonna...," desperation clouds his eyes, still dictating his every thought and move.

But you don't let him because that's not what he said he wanted earlier. He's allowed to buck into you a few more times before you pull off with a loud pop, and the needy, frustrated whine he lets out almost makes you reconsider. Almost.

"I'm gonna make you cum, I promise, but not with my mouth," you tell him, voice tinged with disappointment, wrecked from the force of taking him like that. "You were doing so well for me. Come down here, keep being my good boy and I'll make you feel good."

Plopping down on the carpet, you spread your legs so he can see how wet you are for him. It's only gotten worse since earlier, slick coating your thighs, shiny and all the more inviting. You lay back, trailing your fingers up your belly to your breast to tweak a nipple, sighing as you reach out to him with your other hand.

Again, he obeys, his desire to empty down your throat all but forgotten. His shirt is quickly discarded, followed by everything below his waist, and then he's shifting onto the floor between your legs.

"There's my sweet boy," you coo, running your hands up his chest through a smattering of coarse, dark curls, and it rumbles under your palms as he mewls sweetly at your praise.

He leans over you, hovering like he's waiting for permission to touch you, but he doesn't need it. The only thing you're trying to do is guide him, not control him. You want to make sure he gets exactly what he was so patient for.

"Wanna feel you, babygirl. Let me—," he amends what he was about to demand, "...can I touch you?"

You bite your lip nodding as you smile up at him, and he wastes no time dropping down to bury his face into the crook of your neck, sucking wetly as he presses his body flush against yours. You writhe underneath him, just as pent up as he is by now, the realization triggered by how incredible his naked body feels on top of you.

"Fuckin' hell, you're soft," he moans into your ear, propped up on his forearms. His cock brushes against your inner thigh, and his moan turns guttural, raw like it clawed its way out. "Mmph, I can't—"

He lurches up to crash his lips into yours, kissing you sloppily, hungrily, as his hips finally dip to drag against where you're soaked and aching. But not for nearly as long as he's been, and right now, he comes first. You need him to know he can have you. That he doesn't have to wait anymore.

"Don't...don't fight it. You've been perfect, you deserve it," you gasp out, and his hips jerk, your words forcing a low keen past his lips and into your mouth. "Take, baby. Take what you need."

Joel doesn't take, he seizes, laying claim to every part of you. Like he's afraid he won't get another chance if he doesn't take full advantage of what you've given him right now.

He faintly reminds you of a puppy lacking object permanence, believing the next time you leave, he'll be stuck waiting for you to come back to him forever. God, you're not even sure how you fucked him up so badly, but it's clear by the way he's handling you that he won't let you go again.

He moves quickly. One moment, he's leaning back on his heels, digging his fingers into your waist to yank you up onto his thighs, and the next, he's fucking into you as hard and fast as a bullet train. His cock somehow feels thicker, heavier than it ever has when he breaches your cunt, and the stretch has you clawing at the carpet beneath you.

"Missed you all day, wanted you all goddamn day," he growls, plowing into you forcefully enough to make your brain go fuzzy. "Fuck, babygirl, you got no idea what I've been through."

Christ, that feels—it feels...Christ. He's hitting something. You have no idea what, but it feels ungodly, like if he keeps going just like that, you'll cum without his fingers on you at all. It's happened before with Joel, but it's rare—and it's only when he's deep, lighting up all of your nerve endings at once. Fuck, he's being so good today.

"S'okay, you're okay," you gasp, clenching down around him when he suddenly pounds into the spot dead on. "I...I'm here now. Just keep going there, right there."

He nods frantically, gritting his teeth as you continue to tighten around him.

"Good boy," you mumble deliriously, your back arching completely off the ground as your orgasm rocks you.

"Shit, you—'m not touchin'...fuck, baby, you cummin'?"

It hits him all at once, what's happening, and then he's cumming, too. He's loud through his entire release, alternating between drawn-out moans and hiccuped whimpers as he fills you up with a whole day's worth of pent-up frustration.

Thrusting until your aftershocks have subsided, he grinds in deep one last time, letting you milk him completely dry before he pulls out. You're boneless underneath him, your eyes glazed over while his are finally clear for the first time in almost ten hours.

He lowers your body onto the floor and crawls over next you, pulling your body against his. His embrace is warm and pleasant, and enough to pull you out of your post-orgasm stupor. Wriggling in his arms to get more comfortable, you tilt your head back from where he'd tucked it under his chin to grin up at him.

"So you missed me, huh?"

He rolls his eyes, back to his usual, not-totally-depraved self, but you already know the answer. He just spent the last hour showing you exactly how much.

"Thought I already made that clear," he confirms gruffly, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "Next time, could ya maybe just use your vacation days? Please?"

"Sure," you laugh, nuzzling into his neck. "I'll save them up just for you."

You reach up to scratch your fingernails across his beard, your other hand petting the soft curls at the nape of his neck. A soft noise rumbles low in his chest, but he tries to play it off by clearing his throat. Playfully raising an eyebrow, you continue your ministrations and it happens again.

"Baby, quit, 'm not a dog," he deadpans, even as he leans into your touch, his body betraying him.

"You sure about that? Because you sure were needy like one today."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller smut #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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liliannadelaphinehartifelt · 6 months

Note

Hi there,

Saw your post about Cajun/cowboy Alastor and OMG! I don’t have many ideas other then maybe he plays poker for souls or something like that and maybe a reader comes into town and is just as good at poker as he is. And he cannot seem to win, leading him to become mildly obsessed over winning their soul.

Thats all I have as I don’t know much about cajun/cowboy stuff.

I’ll let you know if I have any other ideas!

Thank you!

Alastor - [ ACE OF HEARTS ]

xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxx

A/N: Omg, I love your take on cowboy Al! It got me thinking about it for days. I have never played poker, so I had to watch multiple YouTube videos to understand the game while writing this. Hopefully, it came out accurate enough! Also, this is a very, VERY traumatic/smut-heavy fic I'm working on, so please be aware and know I don't endorse anything I write.

WARNINGS: [ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ MATURE THEMES ] + [ FEM READER ] + [ GUN PLAY… ] + [ SLIGHT DUB CON….eventually.] + [ SLIGHT/IMPLIED AGE GAP ] + [ MENTIONS OF GORE/BLOOD/CANNABILISM ] + [ KIDNAPPING…sort of?.. ] + [ PARENTAL PHYSICAL AB*SE…eventually..] + [ ANGST/TRUAMA…]

xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxx

**Cowboy Alastor** is known for his record of killing, is a skilled bounty hunter, and is far from a decently moral one. Everyone assumes his motives, guessing who his next target is and if he’ll ever feel guilt for what he does to them.

He doesn't.

What kind of demon would he be if he did…

Besides, the people he kills owe him in one way or another, all in debt to the red demon by their stupidity and lust for life, so he feels nothing for them when the time comes for the price of their deals to be paid.

Alastor arrives for them in the dead of dry nights, taking their last breath with a single bullet to the head or a clean cut across the throat. Their pleas do little to affect his decision.

“A deal is a deal…”

He reminds them that escaping a bloody end is impossible, already solidified by their selfish desires, and no amount of begging will change his mind. They curse his name, glaring at the grin on his face as he draws nearer with deathly intent in his eyes, and it only grows as he derives pleasure from their refusal to cooperate.

The riches, the riding, and the roughness he endures daily are nothing compared to the satisfaction he gets from killing. Others may deal in chasing oil, farming land, and cattle, but he stakes his fulfillment in the business of blood.

**Cowboy Alastor** dabbles in gambling when he's not off-striking deals with lowly souls or wreaking havoc on those he deems deserving.

Every city south of New Orleans with a bar or saloon welcomes his visits and not by choice.

Those who don't meet his standards or demands of hospitality drop from the face of the earth at his will, burning to a crisp full of the dead occupants who so lightly offended him, and never to be rebuilt out of fear he'd return to demolish it again.

He surely would, but no one has yet to test the theory in fear of a painful death by his hands.

Alastor leisurely travels the expanse of Louisiana's countryside, partial to riding wherever the wind blows, but he’ll always return to the rumbling city of New Orleans.

Whether for personal reasons or because his beloved mother wished to see him, it becomes second nature for the deer demon to reside there randomly. It was his hometown, after all, and he preferred the taste of whiskey from a familiar place over foreign alcohol in far-off dusty taverns he'd never visit again.

The saloon he fancies sits opposite the central townhouse, a tall building at the end of a main street that never seemed to rest.

Lafitte’s Blacksmith Bar

Summer nights brought out and drew in more people, filling the bar with patrons who knew of his deeds and those who’d only heard scarring stories about him through the ladder. The knowledge of a red reaper roaming the towns of Louisiana varied, but their fearful respect of him was abundant the moment Alastor stepped foot into the bustling bar.

He was there, in good spirits for the most part, but still an impossible threat they couldn't brush off.

**Cowboy Alastor** greets the silent patrons with a sly grin, tipping his hat to the fear-stricken owner who eyed him from behind the packed bar.

“Don't let me interrupt the fun, Cher. I'm not here to cause you trouble… that's if you're kind enough to indulge me.”Alastor chuckles, not waiting for a proper response from anyone as he stalks over to his usual spot in the smokey parlor.

A group of cattlemen stiffen in their seats as he walks by, all grabbing their drinks as swiftly as possible before leaping up from their table to avoid him, and their skittish actions cause Alastor to laugh as he settles into a particular backroom booth.

It was customary for people to keep their distance from him, some deterred by his striking appearance while others simply didn't want to risk involvement with a known killer. He saw nothing wrong with their aversion, glad that his reputation proceeded him, but there were those single few who saw him as a challenge rather than a threat.

Poor fools…

Mortal or not, he ran into them regularly, welcoming their duels like a bored child getting a new toy to destroy, and though he knew they'd fail to win against him, he'd never turn down a good game.

Ever…

**Cowboy Alastor** lets the saloon wind into chaos again, humming along to the melody of music and rowdy singing while getting comfortable in his secluded spot.

His hat rests low on his head, shielding most of his red gaze from those who look his way, only leaving the view of his Cheshire smile and effectively signaling his oddly calm demeanor. Alastor slipped his riding jacket off, tossing the tailored burgundy clothing across the back of the booth, his leather and suede black gloves following suit.

“What a day it's been…” he mumbled while flexing his long fingers, relaxing his posture while leaning back and rolling his neck until a soft ‘pop’ was heard.

Consequently, the tension tangled in his limber body from riding all day unraveled. Alastor sucked his teeth at the feeling, licking his lips as a satisfied groan left them, and just as he sat forward again, the owner hurried to his table with a bottle of alcohol and a tray of cigars.

“Your usual, Al,” he split out, setting the items in front of him with shakey hands, and Alastor clicks his tongue at the nervous tick. He'd come to this bar for years, and the old man still trembled in his boots around him. The poor fool wouldn't dare admit his fear either, rushing off as soon as he reached for the bottle, and though some might consider his retreat rude, Alastor found it amusing.

Flattering, even.

**Cowboy Alastor** drinks slowly, letting the whiskey burn his tongue and drowning the malt taste with languid drags from a cigar.

Eyes scan over him, women whisper about him lustfully under the rowdy music, and the men keep their senses about them with happy trigger fingers.

Because as they say: “Red Reaper, Red Reaper. The devil's solemn deal keeper. Beware him & the hell he seeks…”

Alastor imposes his intensity, grinning at those who stare too long, watching the women who drink him in with an equally sultry stare, and daring the men to throw a bullet his way with a knowing smirk. He invites trouble, waiting for it like a preying snake in tall, dry grass, but after some time, he assumes no one in the saloon will accept his invitation.

That is until you step in, looking lost among the worldly thrills of a bar but unafraid to venture further into it with an air of certainty surrounding you.

**Cowboy Alastor** makes no move to approach you, laid back as ever, as he observes the gentle way you speak to men who drunkenly approach you. They make offers to dance, almost crowding your more diminutive form as you trail to the bar.

“Sorry, boys, but I'm here on business, not pleasure. Now, run along..” you wave them away playfully, purposely flirtatious but avidly stern.

He expects them to continue bugging you; you're a doll, after all, prettier than most women he's seen. However, the men retreat politely, leaving you be as the owner approaches your side, and you immediately turn to hug him despite his apparent concerned expression.

Alastor observes the exchange closely, reading your lips perfectly while sipping at his drink, and it's all too easy for him to assess the situation.

The daughter of a businessman returns home after finishing school in the north, wanting to visit him at work as a pleasant surprise, but he's far from happy about a young lady like yourself being out late at night in a place like this.

You're too mannered to be seen around the patrons, it's dangerous for you to ride alone in the evening, and your father isn't pleased you intend to stay out to celebrate your school completion.

He tells you it's best to go home, that he'll come with you, but you insist on staying and remind him, “I'm not your little girl anymore, Daddy!..” The older man can't seem to rein you in, having to drop the lecture as a small brawl breaks out in the corner of the saloon, which draws his attention immediately, and this leaves you to wander the scene freely.

A perfect time for Alastor to reel you in close and personal…

**Cowboy Alastor** whistles when you walk past his area, catching your attention with a short, soulful melody, and you quickly notice him in the dim back room.

“Hi there, lil’ lady. Searchin' for somethin'?” He inquires playfully, tone bordering sensual, and his grin slipping into a closed smile as your gaze settles on him.

You’re curious, not scared of him like most are, and the moment he speaks to you, questions race through your head.

Who is he?

How have you never seen him here before?

Why, in God's name, is he sitting away from the masses?

Is he a rider, a hunter, or maybe a convict?

It was hard to tell from a distance, so without a second thought, you flashed him a gentle smile, gradually approaching where he sat, “Hello, and who might you be, sir?” You chirp a greeting, resisting the urge to bite your lip as he stares into your wandering gaze.

Alastor assumed you’d been away from the South too long to realize who he was, that your father's earlier warning didn’t sprout from overprotectiveness but rather fear of his presence.

You didn’t see him as a threat, nor a danger, but a new face in an old town.

He chuckles, putting out his cigar after taking a particularly long drag from it, blowing smoke past his lips with a coy hum. You blink as the convoluted air fans your face, unbothered by it and itching for a taste of tobacco yourself. It’d been a few years since you’d let loose, not allowed to frequent bars or act unladylike in the limelight of northern modesty.

“A loyal patron, but it’s been some time since I’ve paid this place a visit.” He answers you politely, an odd trait that most men only reserved for themselves but refreshing to experience.

“Oh, well, that’s nice to hear, but your name is what I would like to know.”

A tender smirk stretches your lips, a red hue dusting your cheeks as he tips his hate apologetically before uttering a response, “Alastor Hartifelt. A pleasure to meet you, Miss…” he pauses, quirking a brow at you expectantly, and you take a moment to analyze him further.

You've heard your father utter his name many times before your departure to the north. He'd described him brutally, having less than pleasant things to say about bounty hunters in general but especially about the man in front of you now. You'd heard people talk of his deeds, deals, and evil.

He was dubbed the ‘Red Reaper’ for a good reason, lurking around in the bitter nights and drawing blood from one poor soul or another in his travels.

Supposedly, he was a terrifying monster, but you'd always found beauty in the demented. It was one of the reasons your father had sent you away, but fortunately, the influence of the posh upper class did nothing to change your consciousness.

Besides, the rumors had failed to mention how attractive the red reaper was, let alone dashing. He seemed nice enough hadn't flashed his weapon, threatened, or catcalled you disrespectfully.

So, you found no harm in telling him your name, “Y/n L/n. It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Hartifelt.” You blink slowly, drowning in his red eyes, unconsciously swaying where you stood, back to a wall that hid your presence near him from your father's eyes and the curious stares of others.

Alastor glanced at the space beside him, silently asking that you join him, but unlike most women, he rarely took an interest in, you didn't move until he asked you outright.

“Would you care to join me for a drink, Miss L/n? I'd like to have your company for a while..”

He doesn't speak any louder than needed, using every bit of charm he has to lure you in, and you let him believe he's succeeded with a sensual laugh and purring laugh.

“Why, I thought you'd never ask..”

**Cowboy Alastor** asks a lot of questions. Subtly gathering information about you that he has no use for.

You give him answers; some are lies, others are indiscriminate truths, but you can't bring yourself to be completely honest with a stranger known for his cunning. He keeps your glass full, pacing the liquor with you, reveling in your gentle laughter after every sip, and softening faster and faster the longer you conversed.

You kept your wits about you as best as possible, inviting his fleeting touches but never going further than whispering in his ear or tapping a finger under his sharp chin when he'd stare too long.

Alastor didn't mind your soft hands on him, nor your lingering gaze and confident provocations. He absentmindedly returned the gestures just as boldly.

Your fifth glass of whiskey was running low, and without a hint of hesitation, he refilled it alongside his own. You watched as the amber liquid filled each glass, utterly relaxed as he spoke to you tenderly, “You say your father sent you far up north. May I ask why?…”

He peers at you, sliding the transparent glass into your waiting hand, and you chuckle wryly while taking a sip. “Daddy says it was for my good. You see, my mother is a stickler about manners, and I didn't have much of any growing up. Ironic, seeing as I was raised well enough.” you paused, frowning at the memory of your strict but loving mother.

She was lovely to look at and kind most of the time, but her ambitions for you outweighed her patience. Alastor noted the haunting sadness in your eyes but said nothing as you continued, looking out into the crowd of patrons fussing about as you did.

“My mother died a few years back, leaving daddy to handle me, and when he realized he couldn't manage the business and a daughter, he sent me away. Couldn't blame him either; I was getting into trouble left and right and had some bad habits on the rise, too.”

His ears perked at the words ‘bad habits’ leaving your lips, naturally drawn to knowing a mortal's darkest secrets, so he pressed for clarification.

“Bad habits, you say? I couldn't imagine a sweet thing like you havin’ such things.”

You scoffed, glad your cheeks were flushed from the alcohol buzz to mask the blush his comment invoked, “Well…I did. Still do if I'm honest.” you admit in a hushed tone, knocking back the last of your drink before glancing his way.

“It's hard to resist doing things you're good at.”

Alastor leaned back into the seat, drink in one hand, the other fixing his hat so it sat back on his head. The adjustment gave you a peek at his fluffy red hair and the distinctive blood-marked x on his forehead. You thought to ask what the mark meant but saved the question for later, as he agreed with your statement.

“Very true, ma chere. Although I'm one for killin’, your passion may not be so grizzly and easier to alleviate.”

“My father thinks gambling is just as bad as killing. It doesn't matter if he's addicted to it himself or not. If I do it…I'm the devil's daughter in his eyes..” You roll your eyes, an action that jolts a nerve Alastor hasn't felt in years and subconsciously doesn't ignore.

“Gambling? That's your unproper poison?” he narrows his gaze as you nod lazily, a few ringlets of your hair falling from its pinned-up style as you do, resting on the skin of your shoulders and neck.

Soft.

Your locks look soft and silky to the touch, tempting him to run his fingers through it, across your skin, and, god forbid, under your dress.

A heavy breath settled in his chest at the possibility, a familiar rush coursing through him as you moved your lips to speak, “Yes. I see a stack of playin’ cards, and I just can't help myself. I got rather good at playing too but when you beat everyone in town at it people start to be less kind about your reputation.”

You laugh, attempting to make a light-hearted joke but ultimately grimacing at the mention of lousy sportsmanship from others. You couldn't help winning a challenge in poker, and many saw the talent as disgraceful, which prompted I'll rumor about you.

“That's a shame, sugar. Everyone deserves a chance to play a good game of their choosing.” he feigns concern, meeting your curious eyes as you shift to face him, “Everyone except me if my father has anything to say about it. Still, I suppose it's best I let it go…” you sigh, grabbing the bottle of whiskey to pour another shot.

Suddenly, you freeze, feeling his body heat invade your space. Alastor tilts his head down close to yours, breathing in your scent discretely before pressing his lips to the lobe of your ear as he mutters into it, “Why don't you play a game with me, chere? One lil’ round for fun… right under your daddy's nose, hm?”

The burn of excitement seizes your body, a shakey breath leaving your lips as his voice settles in your mind, inviting you to indulge his offer. That same heat pooled in your core with every second he spent in your space, inhaling the scent of bourbon and sweet sugar cane grass he rode through radiating off him, words just as inviting and addictive.

For a horrifying, well-feared killer, he sure did entice a woman like any natural-born gentleman…

It was a deathly combination you knew he often used, killing or not, and though it'd be wise to avoid his idea, you didn't want to risk missing an opportunity for the thrill.

It'd been so long, too long, and what's the worst that could happen?

Losing to him?

You'd never lost to anyone before, and you were confident that fact wouldn't change -even going up against the Red Reaper himself.

**Cowboy Alastor** relishes when you utter a ‘yes’ to his offer. His grin widens menacingly for a split second as he sets his glass down next to your empty one, conjuring up a meticulously detailed deck of playing cards and placing them on the table.

“You can choose which game we play, sugar…”

Alastor shifts away from you, letting you regain your composure and watching as your delicate fingers reach for the top card of the deck.

“Poker. A favorite of mine..” You didn't think twice before answering him, admiring the red and black ace in your hand, wondering where he acquired such personalized playing cards.

“Poker it is then, chere,” he smirks wickedly, removing his hat entirely to set it on the table before gingerly plucking the card from your hold and sliding to sit opposite you while dishing out equal amounts of cards between you.

Your eyes light up under the oil lamp's golden hue, studying the flick of his hands as he worked, trying hard not to wander up to his piercing gaze. Afraid he'd immediately see your attraction to his nimble hands, well to him in general, and use it against you somehow, so your focus remains on the hand dealt and not him.

As you both plucked your respective set from the table, studying the cards intently, you asked the singular most crucial question every poker match was built on.

“What will the bets be,” Your innocent inquiry earns sultry laughter from him, filling the air, raising feverish chills on your skin as he stares at you through half-lidded eyes.

“I prefer bargains of the soul, my dear. The use and price of one's existence is always more valuable than money, don't you agree?”

xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxx

A/N: Don't be mad AT ME, GUYS, PLEASE. I HAD EXAMS LAST WEEK. I'm SORRY FOR DROPPING OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH… sort of, but I'm back now (please do hate me :((( ). Uh, so I might merge “Down in the Dust” with this because both stories kinda originated in my brain at the same time. However, since this is a request, I wrote a two-part tangent smut as a sort of prequel to the other fic! Also, the phrase “Save a horse. Ride a cowboy” will be unironically used…I'm sorry (I'm not lol) ❤️

[ BONUS CONTENT + ] VOLUME WARNING!!! 🗣️

Fun fact: In the South, we have a rule that if you take a cowboy hat and end up wearing it, they catch you with it (preferably in the mutual interest of getting to know each other). That cowboy gets to fuck you (hopefully, but technically you're initiating a flirting game wearing their hat, lol). It's a cute concept and one any Cowboy Alastor enthusiast should think about. ❤️ credits to the creator.

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megumishotgf · 11 months

Text

satoru's pretty girl (sitting on his face!!) ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ

summary: satoru really wants you to sit on his face. but he has to help you work through your bodily insecurities first (chubby! reader). i got really carried away with this omg.

warnings + tags: body insecurities, chubby!fem!reader, body worship, oral (female receiving), y/n shows love by lowkey bullying satoru and he takes it because he’s cocky and whipped. not proofread i'm sorry it's three in the morning ive spent the last three hours writing this.

masterlist wc: 2.7k ༄ؘ

by nature, satoru is a very persuasive person. whether it’s him using his irresistible charm, or just the other party giving in after getting restlessly annoyed by his persistence, he always has a way of getting what he wants.

satoru has had the same request for the past few weeks now. he wants you - no, needs you - to sit on his face. he flails his arms dramatically, falling backwards onto the bed when you decline, whining about how he needs your pussy on his face or he’ll die.

of course, he respects your boundaries when it comes to sex. but satoru won’t drop this because he knows you want to try it. and he is certain that his eating out skills are not lacking (he’s good at everything, after all), so that’s not the issue either. every time satoru mentions it, you make excuses about being too heavy or your thighs being too big, and no matter how much bragging satoru does, you refuse to believe he can handle it.

“i’m too heavy, toru. i will suffocate you and you will die!”

“sent to heaven by my sexy girlfriend? you know i wouldn’t mind that. i welcome the idea, in fact…”

“as if you’re going to heaven!”

satoru has tried to coax you out of your insecurities. he likes that you’re a little bigger than other women. of course, it’s ultimately what’s on the inside that counts… but have you seen yourself? you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen! to be able to sit in between your thick thighs is a privilege in satoru’s eyes. he sits in between them all the time - sometimes eating you out for insanely long periods until you’re squirming away, and other times just letting them act as his personal ear muffs. how on earth could you think they’re a bad thing?

“i’m wounded, baby. you know i’m the strongest for a reason, right?”

“that doesn’t matter, toru!” you cover your face in embarrassment. “your strength won’t matter when i’m depriving you of oxygen.”

before you can protest, satoru has his arms hooked under each of your legs, hoisting you up into the air. your hands instinctively grab his shoulders, thighs squeezing around his torso in shock. “satoru! what are you doing?”

“see, baby? i can pick you up just fine. you’re as light as a feather to me,” he replies in that signature flirtatious tone of his.

satoru lowers you back onto the bed, laughing at your flustered face as he hoovers over you. “so tell me truthfully baby. what’s so bad about having you sit on me?”

you’re silent for a few moments, unsure of how to articulate your feelings. you take a deep breath, hoping that it’ll calm your restless body and mind, but it comes out shaky and leaves a sinking feeling in your chest.

“i just… don’t want you to see me like that. you’ll see my tummy and my boobs will look weird… what if you realise i’m ugly, toru?”

satoru’s eyes soften as he hears your voice falter. he pulls away the hands covering your face to meet your tearful eyes. how could his baby think so lowly of herself?

“my poor baby. why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he coos, gently cupping your cheek and letting his thumb wipe away a few stray tears.

“it’s just silly. i wish i felt more comfortable being naked around you, i do. but you’re so perfect and strong and i don’t look like you at all!”

you’ve started to think it’d be easier if you looked differently. if you looked more like the women you see in magazines, maybe you’d feel more comfortable in your body around satoru. maybe if you worked out a bit more. you feel a little pathetic considering you’ve been together for so long, and you’re still covering yourself up as if you’ve been together for a mere few weeks.

satoru sits up, guiding you to sit on his lap. he lets his hands run up your sides soothingly as you open up to him about all the awful thoughts you have in your head. your usually-goofy boyfriend sits quietly and listens so intently as you pour your heart out to him, only interrupting when you start apologising profusely for your crying.

“hey, stop apologising. you’re my girl and i’m here to listen. i’d give you the world if it meant making you happy. now, i hope you’re comfy because i have a lot to say!”

you’re sniffling and your nose is runny but satoru still thinks you’re an angel that’s graced the world with your presence, especially when he hears you giggle quietly at him.

“i’ve never been attracted to someone like i am to you. i mean it, y/n. i knew it from the first time i saw you - whereas you found me annoying, may i remind you - i couldn’t believe how beautiful you were. i love everything about you - your face, your tummy, your arms. and your thighs? holy shit… that’s why i need the pretty things around my head, yeah? and your boobs too? baby, have i shown them anything but love?”

satoru knows how to make you laugh - it feels like a breath of fresh air, gradually filling your lungs and pushing that anxious physical discomfort out of your chest. you look at him with wide, glossy eyes but there’s a small smile on your lips. “you don’t think they’re sagging?”

“i don’t care if they are, angel. they’re a part of you, that’s what i care about. everything about you is so beautiful to me! don’t you see the effect you have on me? just seeing you makes my heart beat faster. i can’t focus on anything but you. even when you’re not around, all i think about is when i can see you next.. and don’t you see how hard i get for you?” he continues, smiling widely at your laughter. you slap at his chest playfully at the comment, but he just takes the same hand and kisses the back of it.

“you see how i feel about you? and honestly, baby, our bodies will change eventually. bodies are temporary. i won’t look like this forever either, you know! but i know you’ll still love me the same. even as we change i’ll still think you’re the most beautiful person ever because you’re still going to be you. i love you more than anything, remember?”

“yeah. i love you so much, toru,” you say, arms wrapping around his shoulders. “and i didn’t find you annoying! i was way too focused on how freakishly tall you are.”

“oh wow… my dear girlfriend making fun of me after i poured my love out for her,” satoru feigns sadness at what you’ve just said, dramatically throwing his head back and clutching his chest.

“you’re such a baby!” you moan but you’re grinning widely, cupping his cheeks and forcing him to look at you. “i love you, toru. thank you. you always make me feel pretty… i just needed a little reminder.”

“that’s okay. i’ll remind you every single day what i think of you, sweet girl,” satoru’s lips are on yours before you can reply. his hands wander over your body - your calves, your thighs, your hips, your tummy. normally you’d feel inclined to straighten your back, nervous that he’d see the folds in your tummy, but those thoughts have been pushed to the far back of your mind. you let your body naturally fall into his, feeling the love through his warm, embracing hands.

“how about i show you how much i love you, baby?” satoru pulls away only long enough to see you nod in agreement. you can feel him becoming increasingly needy and desperate with his kisses - they get messier and he lets out pretty moans periodically.

satoru ushers you to lay flat on your back, hoovering over you with that stupid grin of his as he compliments you over and over. so pretty… and you’re all mine. i’m so fucking lucky. can’t believe i’m with you, baby. you can’t feel the nervousness anymore when he starts to undress you - that same nervousness that felt like it was etched into your bones earlier. how could you feel nervous when he’s looking at you with heart-shaped pupils?

your oversized shirt - satoru’s oversized shirt - and your sweats are thrown carelessly acoss the room. the same shirt that you deemed baggy enough to hide your figure sufficiently, so that you wouldn’t have to see the outline of your body. but somehow you found yourself eagerly taking it off, even letting out a giggle when you heard satoru mutter a ‘fuck’ at the sudden reveal of your breasts, as if he hadn’t seen them countless times before. your fingers tug at the hem of satoru’s shirt too but he stops you before you can pull the material off, “tonight’s about you, okay?”

“so fucking pretty,” you can hear a tinge of whininess in his voice, and you have no doubt that his cock is heavy and aching in his pants by now. satoru takes your tits in his large hands, squeezing the fat in between his fingers. his thumbs just barely graze over your sensitive nipples, and he knows if he repeats the action enough you’ll desperately whine and beg for him to give you more. his favourite thing to do, though, is to take them in between his teeth, taking pride in the way your back arches and you gasp in shock.

“ass up, baby. wanna see your pretty cunt,” his voice is stern this time, and you obey him immediately, making sure your back arches just the way he likes. when satoru fucks you like this, he’ll press down on the small of your back, pushing you further into the mattress, but his other hand will keep your hips steady and high in the air, ready for him to pound into you repeatedly, reducing you to nothing but a crying, moaning mess.

while there’s nothing satoru likes more than fucking you face-to-face, seeing your round ass like this makes his head spin. his hands trace over your stretch marks lovingly, as if he’s trying to commit everything about you’re body to memory. your thighs are sticky, coated with the slick that’s been dripping down from your aching cunt. it got your underwear nice and soaked too, darkening the fabric enough that satoru could see the pretty outline of your pussy lips already. his cock twitches and he feels an overwhelming urge to fuck you into oblivion - but he remembers what he initially set out to do. satoru won’t rest until you’re grinding helplessly against his face.

“could look at you forever, angel. my pretty girl,” satoru continues to praise you. you can feel him press his thumb against your clit through your underwear, his slow movements making you clench your thighs in pathetic desperation, but he spreads them apart once again roughly. “wanna hear you say it too, baby. say you’re pretty.”

“i’m pretty. i’m your pretty girl!” your cheeks are a little flushed when you say so, but you can’t bring yourself to feel any shame when the only thing playing in your mind is satoru, satoru, satoru. he’s barely touching you yet you’re already losing your composure, moaning out loudly for him to touch you more.

satoru seems to be content with your answer - finally discarding your underwear, gawking at the string of wetness that forms between your pussy and the fabric. you look so good - smell so good - and you’re so ready to eat, but not like this. not yet. satoru’s quickly turning you over, hands roughly gripping your hips, desperation replacing his usual carefulness.

“can’t take it anymore, baby. need your pussy on my face, please?” satoru whines as he feels his impatience get the best of him. his hands squeeze at your squishy inner thighs, marvelling at how soft they feel. “wanna have your pretty thighs wrapped around my head. please, angel? i’ll make you feel so good. i promise.”

you’re finally agreeing to his request and satoru swears his heart skips a beat. there’s a chorus of ‘fuck, thank you baby. love you so much,’ as he urges you to move up onto his face. your body moves quickly until you’re (your pussy is) hoovering over him.

“fuck… the view is so pretty,” satoru mutters under you, hands comfortably hooking around your thighs. “want you to ride my face, angel. use me to get off, okay?”

you nod in agreement - your movements must be a little slow for satoru because his arms are starting to impatiently pull you downwards. but you sit up once more, peering down at him cautiously.

satoru senses your hesitance, letting his fingers caress your inner thighs in attempt to soothe you. he’s just seconds away from tasting your sweet pussy and satoru might actually die if it doesn’t happen. “it’s okay. i’m okay, see?” he says in reassurance before forcing you down onto him.

you naturally straighten your back once more. but as soon as you feel satoru’s mouth on your clit, you nearly topple over. the air is sucked out of your lungs and one of your hands reaches out to grip the headboard in front of you in attempt to steady yourself. but god damn his mouth is magical - your thighs start to tremble but satoru’s ironclad grip on you keeps you upright. you’re suddenly hyperaware of your tummy as you lean forward - the same routine thought your insecurities have imprinted into your mind. but thinking of satoru’s earlier words, and seeing the way he looks up at you as he’s eagerly pleasing you, you discard those thoughts immediately.

“f-fuck,” you feel satoru curse under you. he’s gazing up at you, marvelling in the way you’re shaking above him in pleasure. the slight bounce of your breasts with each jerky movement you make and the cute rolls of your soft tummy. you look like an angel from down here, satoru thinks. and with your sweet-nectarine taste, your enticing smell and your pretty melodic sounds - this has to be heaven, he concludes. this is what heaven is like.

with the sudden tilt of your hips, satoru gets direct access to your entrance (i hate this word). you can feel his tongue eagerly lapping all over your cunt, making sure his nose nudges your clit. you’re so, so wet and satoru can feel your slick all over his face but he fucking loves it - not wasting a single drop of your sweetness. you suddenly buck your hips, starting to grind against his face. at last, satoru can die a happy man.

“fuck, toru. feels so fucking good. you’re soo good,” you cry out, tangling your fingers in his hair. your grip on his strands tightens as his movements gain speed. if he wasn’t putting his mouth to such good use you know satoru would have the stupidest fucking grin on his face seeing the effect he has on you. and he’ll tease you about it tomorrow - even thought he was the one outright begging for you to seat your pussy on his face.

“toru, i’m so fucking close. oh - oh fuck!” you whine, locking eyes with your boyfriend, who continues to suck greedily at your clit. you feel him squeeze your thighs in reassurance, and you can almost hear him say ‘i’ve got you, baby. don’t hold back.’ in that whiney voice of his. you’re selfishly riding his face now and he fucking loves it - sure, it’s getting a little hard to breathe, but look at you, it’s worth it.

“i’m cumming, cumming - oh, fuck. toru, toru!” suddenly you’re gushing all over satoru’s face but he’s sucking it all up. your body trembles above him, and one of his hands presses against your tummy to steady you as you lean forward. satoru continues his movements on your clit until you’re crying in overstimulation and pushing his head away.

“too sensitive, toru!” you whimper, glassy eyes connecting with his. you lift yourself off his face, legs still shaking in your post-orgasmic haze, letting yourself collapse tiredly besides him. satoru looks just as fucked out as you - flushed cheeks with the lower half of his face covered in your slick. yet he still licks his lips, trying to savour your taste as long as possible.

“that was so fucking hot. see? i told you i’d make you feel good. could have made you cum again if you were patient!”

just put all the satoru's in bold (there were fifty three) and it doesn't look like a real name anymore. anyway, this is my first satoru fic !! please let me know what you thought of him? did i characterise him well? thanks for the love for this fic i’m super proud of how it turned out!!

#satoru gojō x reader #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk x reader #gojo smut #i love u satoru #satoru x you #satoru smut

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stuffeddeer · 10 months

Note

Matching bolo ties with Dazai!! Other couples have matching bracelets or keychains but why not matching mental illnesses 😎

doing this in hcs hope that's fine!!! love u anon

“oh whoa! look at these matching couples bracelets for sale, darling! aren’t they so cute?” “look! that couple has matching necklaces, how sweet!” “oh, i don’t want these matching keychains, just pointing them out to you because it’s cute!”

…

he gifted you yours!

but not in person bc that’s so scary omg

he left it on your kitchen counter one morning before leaving for work

dazai was so excited to see you wearing it the next time you were together!!!

seeing the blue gem wrapped around your neck as you greeted him warmed his heart ❤️

he plays it off like a joke, saying that he thought it’d be funny to match like other couples do bracelets or keychains. he says you don’t have to wear it but please don’t take him seriously!!!

if you take it off dazai will be DEVASTATED. he hides it really well bc he’s him but ouuugh he reads it as you not loving him :( or being embarrassed of him!!! omg you took it off because you actually plan to leave him like everyone else ??? you don’t want people to associate you with him ????? omg

even though it would destroy him, every time he sees you with it on he tells you that you don’t have to and probably teases you for being so whipped for him (even though it’s 100% the other way around)

he takes total pride in matching with you!!!! when kunikida points it out he’s all “oh so you’re jealous? sorry you don’t have a lovely partner to match with!”

atsushi compliments the matching set and he BEAMS!!!! smiles so brightly for the rest of the day and even into the next!

he uses it to tug you closer to him to kiss you!! he knows it gets your heart racing both from the fear and suddenness of it but also bc awww his lips on yours n he smells like comfort and— oh now he’s gone. hm

he’s so commitment issues to me so it’s kinda his way of staking claim over you :)) his hand brushes over it when you talk with someone else he doesn’t trust or he’ll reach over and “polish” it with his bandages or sleeves or his SPIT if that person Will Not Back Off.

i can imagine him starting to keep those soft glasses cleaning fabric squares in his pockets just for the above scenario 😭

he just loves that you match him! starts pointing out matching things other couples have - not to try and drop hints like last time but to mutter that ours is better while all pouty :( now he thinks he Owns “matching accessories w your s/o” someone come get this man shaking my head….

all in all i think he’d be very cute about it! it’s not something he explicitly states or asks for but it makes him very happy :)

imagine one day his breaks on a mission and he’s so distraught and uncomfortable and anxious all day :( he comes home to you after by breaking into your apartment almost holding back tears as he explains what happens :(

you have to hold him close and say it’s okay, you aren’t mad, he’ll be fine…

try offering yours for him to wear while it gets fixed! (he’s a little suspicious… why are you so eager to not wear yours?……) but dazai says you can wrap your wrist in his bandages like a makeshift bracelet just for the time being!! so he still has that claim on you while his gets fixed

but now. how would you look wrapped all up in his bandages? oh you’re so cute!! so his ❤️

maybe you can wear his shirt to match! ooh ooh how about the coat as well! you look like a mini him when you’ve got the white pants on, too!

it’s a slippery slope anon. stay safe out there.

he just wants everyone to know you’re his at first glance! is that too much to ask?

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nadvs · 3 months

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Would you ever write reader and rafe running into ty at a frat party or something a few years into college and how that would go down? Or just what would ever happen if they saw him again?

omg yes!! rafe is so protective that he doesn’t even give ty a chance to see her 😭

set in the home before dark universe

she would be unable to erase the date ty’s set to be released from prison from her mind. at that point, she graduated and is working and engaged and living with rafe and every time she sees the date on her phone even weeks leading up to when he’ll be let out, she feels like she’s just as scared as she was the night he broke in.

the day before, she mentions it to rafe. he remembered. he hoped she didn’t. he can see the emptiness in her gaze. it’s the same look he saw when she went to the police to file the restraining order, the same look he saw throughout the trial. it’s like she gets so scared that her mind goes blank to keep her from losing it.

he loves her too much to allow her to relive any of it.

rafe calls the lawyer who helped her through the case, asking what to do if ty tries to contact his fiancée. she tells him the protective order has lapsed at this point and ty technically can be in her vicinity, can even talk to her, and he wouldn’t be breaking any laws.

rafe is fuming. but he’s not surprised. he always found the law to be senseless. and he knows he’ll have to take matters into his own hands.

within a day, rafe tracks him down. night has just fallen as he pounds on ty’s front door, in a rundown dingy apartment building on the south side of the island, purposely covering the peephole.

when ty opens the door, he wavers in fear, trying to swing the door shut but rafe already has a foot in the space.

ty shuffles backwards, clearly terrified of the man who shot him years ago.

“what do you want?” he asks rafe, trying to sound steady. “what are you doing here?”

“you need to leave town,” rafe tells him. “do you understand? go wherever the fuck you want. i don’t give a shit where. but leave.”

rafe feels the side of him he hasn’t felt in a long time coming out. pure rage boils through him. he could kill this man for the mark he left on the love of his life. he could do it with his bare hands.

“you think i don’t want to?” ty says, up against a wall now. “my parents cut me off after… listen, i don’t want to be here. everyone knows me. they know what happened. i’d love to get off this fucking island. but this is all i can afford right now.”

rafe considers him, his fists clenched at his sides. and he realizes things are different now. he can’t just give into his aggressive impulses whenever he wants. his choices affect her. he’s building a life with her.

he could kill ty. honestly, he would. but to put her through the consequences of committing a crime like that isn’t worth it for rafe. no matter how much he loathes the person he’s looking at right now.

“how much?” rafe asks through gritted teeth. “how much for you to be gone for good?”

he wants to die at the thought of giving anything to ty, but really, he knows he’s giving something to her.

ty mutters a price, more than enough for transportation to the mainland and presumably a few months of rent, but it’s hardly pocket change to rafe. he tells him he’ll wire it to him and that he needs to be gone by tomorrow night.

then, rafe steps closer to him, grabbing his collar, staring at his frightened eyes.

“if i see you around here,” rafe threatens, “if i even hear about you around here, and i swear to god, if you try to get near her, i’ll kill you. do you understand?”

“yeah,” ty says shakily. “yeah. i understand.”

rafe gets home to his fiancée that night, finding her in front of the tv. she’s still not entirely herself, clearly on edge.

“hey,” she says. “where were you?”

rafe leans down, sitting next to her.

“you never have to worry about him again,” he says.

“rafe…” she says, face dropping in worry, immediately knowing who he’s talking about.

“i didn’t do anything to him,” he says. “but you won’t see him around. he’s leaving the island.”

“h-how?” she stammers.

“how about this?” rafe says, shifting closer to her. “how about i promise you that he’s gone and we never have to talk about him again? it’s like he never existed, alright?”

her eyes sweep over his face, her breathing suddenly fast.

“okay,” she finally whispers. she trusts in him wholeheartedly.

rafe confirms that ty is gone the next day, his apartment already up for rent.

for the next few weeks, he doesn’t let his girl out of his sight. he hires a private investigator, who finds ty on living in the mainland like he said he would be.

eventually, rafe can breathe easy. and when he sees her slowly acting like herself again, unafraid to go out into public, he knows he did his job.

he has always wanted to take care of her. even when they were just a couple of kids. he’ll keep her safe until his last day on earth. and by the way she falls asleep curled up to him every night, he can tell that she knows she’s protected.

as they lie in bed, her hand is on his chest, and he wonders if she knows that every one of the heartbeats she’s feeling is for her.

#ask #home #homeblurb

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