#but MAN he should have had it a little harder
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pairing: jacob elordi x male reader x tom holland
request: I'm a manwhore for Jacob Elordi and Tom Holland being possessive over male reader whenever he talks to another guy whether he's just being friendly in general and the two of them just fuck and tease male reader whenever they get a chance and male reader calling them daddy(btw love your work!)
warnings: smut, rough sex, fingering, teasing, face fucking, cum eating, daddy kink
you were just chatting it up with some other actor at an event, you weren't even all touchy with them like jacob says but somehow just talking to the guy shows how badly you wanted him to fuck you so they just had to interrupt the conversation, both of them wrapping an arm around you waist and laying a kiss on your head.
"hey baby who's this" jacob asks moving his hand lower to grope your ass right in front of the man "just a friend i was talking to" you say already knowing the thoughts bouncing around in their minds "well seeing as we're here now you can go now" tom pipes up, watching the man quickly walk away to not start anything with tom or jacob.
"now why did you do that" you ask turning around to see the shit eating grin on their faces before jacobs leans down to kiss you and tom starts kissing your neck "we have no idea what you mean" tom mutter "guys stop we're in public" you try to push them off you but once they have a thought in mind they wont stop till they do it.
pushing you into the nearest bathroom and locking the door before taking off your clothes and letting them drop to the floor, jacob bending you over the the sink and spitting on his fingers, sliding them up and down your hole to open you up while tom continued making out with you to swallow your moans to keep them from reaching the ears of the others outside the door.
after some time of teasing you jacob finally slips his fingers inside you, curling them inside you over and over as he pumped them in and out of you, just grazing against your good spot leaving you moaning into toms mouth like a needy cock whore "please please i need it" you whined making them both chuckle "you want this cock in you" jacob taunts you, just barely rubbing his tip up and down your hole.
"mhm please j" you choke out and jacob fulfills your request, slipping his thick cock into you in an instant, whimpers falling from your mouth as the large man plows your hole raw while tom decides he has to keep you quiet some way, turning you his way and pulling his pants down to let his cock flop out and shoving it in your mouth, your moans reverberating around his cock making him shudder a little.
"two tight holes for two big cock" tom laughs pumping his cock in and out of your mouth roughly, listening to you gag around him like a good boy, it felt so good being a cock slut for tom and jacob, feeling their dick fill you up and stretch you out everyday, although it left you sore it was so good to be the only hole for them.
"what do you say, should we fill him up jacobs" tom asks feeling himself already about to unload "it would be a crime if we didn't" jacob smirks pounding into you harder before emptying his load into you, tom following close behind and cumming down your throat, hearing as you struggle to take all his thick cum down but you do.
"now what do you say" jacob asks giving a little slap to your ass "thank you daddy" you stammer out "good boy now lets get you dressed" tom says, they both help you put all your clothes back on and walk you to the car, getting weird stare from the guests that see you walking funny and looking fucked out, only if they knew.
taglist:@mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat @addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares @gargoylesworld09 @znerac
#jacob elordi#tom holland#tom holland x reader#tom holland x male reader#jacob elordi x reader#jacob elordi x male reader#x male reader#x male y/n#gay smut#x male smut#x male#gay#male reader#bottom male reader#tom holland x you#tom holland smut#tom holland imagine#jacob elordi x you#jacob elordi smut
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When Konig returns, How do you think he will react when he realizes that reader is limping and has a prosthetic??
Would he blame himself? would blame and fight with others??
-🍒anon
It’d be a mix of both, but he largely (and understandably) blames them the most. There is disliking your spouse, and then there is the cruelty that has been inflicted on you.
König didn’t even notice it at first- not until you stood at last.
The faint click against the marble floors froze him. His eyes dropped, breath hitching at the gleam of metal where your foot should have been. Cold and foreign, it should have never been on you. He’s only seen it on soldiers.
Your grip on the cane now in your hand- how did he not notice it?- tightened. “Don’t.”
It wasn’t a plea. It was a warning.
But König couldn’t stop staring. His eyes traced the straps digging into your thigh, the unevenness of your gait. He imagined the pain you must have endured, the surgeries, the adjustments, the raw skin and bruising. He imagined you lying in some cold room, scared and alone, with no one there to hold your hand.
“Who did this to you?” His voice was low and guttural, barely human.
“They all did,” you said quietly. “You. Them. All of you.”
The words hit harder than any blade could.
König staggered back a step, the breath knocked from him. Shame clawed up his throat, but it couldn’t overpower the guilt. You’re right, he wanted to say. You’re right, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness.
Instead, he knelt again.
Slowly, deliberately, he sank to one knee before you, lowering himself as if in supplication. “Mylady,” he rasped, voice raw. “I have failed you.”
You flinched, your fingers tightening on the cane again, but you didn’t pull away.
“I failed you when I left,” he continued, head bowed. “And I failed you by leaving you in their care. I will never forgive myself for it.”
“You think kneeling will fix this?”
“No,” he admitted. “But I won’t leave you again. Not unless you send me away.”
You faltered. For not the first time, König saw something- grief, fire, exhaustion—flicker in your eyes. But then you turned.
And when you stumbled, he was there.
He steadied you without a word, and though you flinched, you didn’t pull away.
The days after König’s return were heavy with tension.
He didn’t leave your side- not when you struggled with the prosthetic, not when your cane trembled, not when your breaths came shallow and pained.
And you let him.
You let him carry the books you’d occasionally read, adjust the chairs, and brace you when the steps proved too much. It wasn’t spoken. There were no apologies. Just König- silent, patient, and steady.
And the others saw it.
“She lets you help her.” Kyle said once, disbelieving. But König ignored him and continued on his path to your room, carrying a tray of tea he made himself.
I do not force it, König thought, focused on adjusting the padding of your prosthetic. The straps had rubbed you raw again. He fixed them without asking.
Price bristled at him another day, and König focused especially hard to ignore him. “You weren’t here. You left her.”
I did not let her rot, if anyone were to listen to König’s thoughts, they would immediately sense his utter disdain and disgust. You did.
Johnny tried to step in once while König waited for the tea to boil. “We tried—”
“When it was too late.” König spoke at last, lip curling under his mask. “You watched her shatter and did nothing. And now you ask why she won’t let you put her back together?”
Johnny had no answer.
None of them had an answer.
And König didn’t wait for one.
He returned to you, and looped a tiny little flower he picked on the way into your hair. “Better, mylady?”
You nodded, hesitant. “… better.”
It was not as if you forgave him- you didn’t.
But König didn’t ask. He didn’t demand or beg, or force himself into your space. He didn’t push you for it, didn’t demand it like a starving man clawing for scraps.
He stayed.
He noticed every wince, every tremor, and fixed what he could- polished the cane, adjusted the straps, moved the chairs- without asking for permission or praise.
And when you wept in the conservatory late at night, when the pain in your leg and the ache in your heart became too much, he didn’t try to hush you. He didn’t tell you to be strong or remind you of how far you’d come.
He simply sat there, guarding the door, letting you cry until the exhaustion dragged you under.
And then, when you woke the next morning, the cane would already be waiting by your bedside, polished and steady.
Just like him.
#noona.asks#konig x reader#konig x you#könig x you#könig x reader#cod x reader#cod x you#noona.writes
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These days, Blurr feels like he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, when his legs can barely even support his own weight. And in a sense, he knows he is.
-----------------------------------------------
Swindle described it as Blurr being the social shield keeping mecha from being influenced into moving in worse directions. Blurr…hadn't exactly liked what Swindle was describing. But, he also understood the necessity of it all.
Only, the problem with shields is that they get hit. And a good shield has to keep deflecting those blows to do its job – to protect and keep safe. But for Blurr, it's getting harder and harder to keep up the pretense -- keep up the fight. Because every time he walks into a board meeting or a press conference these days, it's Shockwave that he comes face to face with.
The man's relentless. Eloquent. Persuasive. And Blurr has to admit it's wearing him down.
Shockwave's wearing Blurr down with every confrontation – every time he describes how life changing his theories could be if only they could be tested. The promise that it would change Blurr's life – take things back to the way they were.
And there are days Blurr wishes that were true. Because these days, Blurr feels like he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, when his legs can barely even support his own weight. And in a sense, he knows he is.
Blurr is the shield. Swindle has said it. Blurr can see it in the way Shockwave's demeanor shifts every time they're in the same room. If Shockwave prevails, Blurr might get his old body – his old life – back, but countless mecha pilots will be subjected to unimaginable costs.
The promise of the mecha program will fail. And mecha is the primary force standing against the aliens' invasion. If mecha fails – if the efficacy of the program is brought into question….
Blurr knows that most people have little idea how fragile the balance is in being able to go about their day-to-day lives, how much mecha does to maintain that balance. Without mecha, the aliens will gain that much more ground. Earth, life as they know it may be lost. And it all rests on him.
These are the thoughts that spiral around Blurr's head in the quiet moments when he's alone back in the hospital – when he should be resting, recovering.
Most days, Blurr wishes he didn't know. Wishes Swindle hadn't felt he had to tell Blurr. Because the truth is a heavy weight to carry. Because it was that much easier to stand in front of the crowds when it had just been about him and his face and his fame. Doing it when he knows the lives of every mecha pilot, possibly the lives of every human on Earth depend on how well he can convince everyone…is hard. Nearly dying a hero's death pulling people from the crumbling mecha headquarters had been easy in comparison.
Blurr knows what's at stake, so he carries on the fight Swindle's outlined even though it's hard. But Blurr's not a soldier. He's used to solving his problems by outpacing them, only there's no getting ahead of this. There's only the constant grind of meetings and publicity stunts just to keep from losing any more ground than they've already lost.
This -- the lack of progress, the constant work with no motion…Blurr genuinely doesn't know how much longer he can keep up the appearance. Because that's all it is in the end. Shockwave's offer – the idea that the appearance could be made reality is taunting him the longer the charade goes on.
Blurr knows that what Shockwave is promising is likely too good to be true and comes with far too high a price. Knows that logically there is no magically going back to the way things were as though the crash had never happened – that's just not how life works.
He knows the hope Shockwave's offering is false. But it's hope nonetheless, and tantalizing because there's a glaring absence of hope from the medical reports he's received. The doctors had been clear from the start that even with the best possible treatments and outcomes, Blurr would never race again – not in a car, not in a mech. Life without that feeling seems inconceivable. As though a very part of what makes him himself had been cut away – lost irretrievably.
Blurr had thought he had come to terms with it. Because there had been no other choice. No choice but to stay stuck in the moment of the crash or to find a way to move forward. And Blurr has always preferred to move.
Now though, constantly presented with the possibility that there could be a third option? Now he's not so sure whether he has accepted it or whether he's still looking for a way out – looking for somewhere to run.
"Only, the problem with shields is that they get hit."
See?? See this tiny crumbling thing on the floor?? This is me right now. THIS IS WHAT YOU MADE TO ME ARE YOU PROUD
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"Every night," Theo smiled back at her, knowing he had shown he was unconvinced but he was glad of the change of topic, there were more pressing worried than Violet for now. "You can look after yourself, I just don't like the idea of bait." It was all they had though and he and Sloane could make sure nothing happened to her, Violet too from her vantage point. He could see she was worried and in some way it helped, it meant she would be careful out there.
Oh yeah, the bears. Theo looked at her worriedly for a moment, is seemed like she was constantly in danger if she was here and then when she went home she had to deal with bears! Of course in his mind the situation was much worse than it actually was and he imagined her having to deal with bears on a daily occurrence. "You should use it if you have to you know. You're right it's better off with you." He agreed, at least in New York there were just the stray pets, rats and occasional parrot. "You can, you know, have it if you want?" He'd relinquish it if it meant she could be spared from the bears at home too!
"I am not sure I have a favourite," Sloane mused as they walked though he was clearly thinking hard about it. "I have used so many but I suppose the best one might have been the pilot." He concluded, inadvertently revealing that he and thus other Sloanes could get into the cockpits of planes if they deemed it necessary.
Ah! It sounded like the HR role was no walk in the park, he supposed not every cell was like theirs and well, Samantha could really put her foot down if she decided to. "It probably is," he at least admitted for it being a harder role but he was even more pleased that Killian and Samantha were in touch too and he assumed that he was much the same as them.
"Astrid," he acknowledged with a smile and a nod before gently but encouragingly patting her on the shoulder. "You'll do great, let's go." He instructed and then opened the door to the office. Beyond it there was an empty reception area and then a small plastic screen where a young man was sat typing away on a computer, pausing to look at them both as the door opened. "Good evening," Sloane greeted as he fumbled around a little as if trying to find his wallet, sounding a little more exasperated than he had just done and as if he was a frazzled single dad in a 'pickle', "Come on in to talk to the nice man, Astrid." He smiled at her encouragingly, so very much as if he was indeed her father.
𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy
Samantha could tell that her words had not really appeased Killian's worries. She knew him far too well not to notice. But she wasn't sure that anything she could say would comfort him when it came to Violet's presence here, and all it could entail for them. So, she just offered him a warm smile and dropped the subject. "Just tonight?" she teased, trying to hide her own worries behind a joke.
"That's true, I can't," she admitted patiently, "but I can hide the crossbow in the trunk of my car. My dad never uses it anyway. And if he does somehow find it, I'll tell him I bought it to fend off bears. People in my town have all sorts of guns to protect themselves against bears, a crossbow won't be too unusual." A little bit unusual, sure. But she wouldn't be grounded for it. She glanced at Killian, hoping the mention of bears would convince him.
"What's your favorite disguise?" asked Violet. She did chuckle when he mentioned how well he decorated his house for Halloween, though there was a sadness in her eyes. Her heart broke just a little bit at the thought that all of this, his house, his family, the little traditions they had... would one day go up in flames. Literally and figuratively.
Unaware that she had relieved Sloane of a great worry, she nodded at his question. "My dad says it's probably more scary than being on the field," she joked, though she didn't know just how unhinged Delta Green agents could be.
She stopped next to Sloane. "Oh- Astrid, my name is Astrid," she whispered, in case anyone could hear them on the other side of the door. The prospect of calling him "Dad" was daunting. Her mouth was suddenly very dry, she felt like she had swallowed a handful of sawdust. "Yes, I remember."
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Day twenty-three of “Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it” behind the cut. (( chrono || non-chrono ))
“I realize I am not letting this one go, but what do you think, are you more into the barbell look or should we put a ring on it?” Bernard muses, giving both his nipples a meaningful pinch as he does, and then a tight little twist. Kon isn’t actually sure if it’s more embarrassing to have someone pay so much attention to a part of his body that most of his other partners haven't, or if it’s more embarrassing how affected he is by the attention. How affected he is by the idea, even.
“Told you I was the kept boy type, man, c’mon,” he says, trying for a laugh as he says it, and Bernard grins at him and cups his pecs and pushes them up a little bit again. Kon tightens his grip on his ass like–a reflex, maybe, or maybe more like a response–and lifts his cheeks a little bit more too. Bernard probably doesn’t, like, see that or anything, but–but it’s kind of embarrassing to realize, and he knows, like–obviously Tim saw, but since he’s straight behind him maybe he didn’t realize it was, like–like why he . . .
“Yeah, so what if we kept you?” Bernard asks, his grin turning sly, and Kon stops overthinking because he is suddenly literally just incapable of thinking. That–that is–
It doesn’t help that he heard Tim’s heartbeat accelerate when Bernard said that.
“Just saying, libido like yours, you’d do better if you were doing the kept boy thing for a couple,” Bernard mentions casually, since it’s apparently blatantly obvious that Kon is likelier to fall off his dick and also the bed than string together a coherent reply right now. “Or, you know, just getting regularly gangbanged by an entire superhero team, but that seems harder to arrange on the daily, you know? Like, more a special occasions kind of thing.”
“I–you–” Kon attempts, face blushing and gut burning as his hips stutter, and Bernard just keeps up the light, easy chatter like he’s not literally on the guy's dick right now.
“Like normally I’d suggest the Birds of Prey or just any Amazon expats, obviously, but right now I guess you’d be more into . . . I dunno, Young Justice’s always seemed pretty femme-heavy and I feel like Tim would have some weird feelings about letting Batman Inc borrow you, so maybe see about meeting yourself a few nice Titans?” Bernard suggests, squeezing his pecs again; rubbing and massaging at the muscle for a few moments. Kon is pretty sure he’d be boiling in the literal vacuum of space, hot as he suddenly feels. “Or maybe check if anybody in the Green Lantern Corps has some job-related stress to work out? Or like, what’re the Outsiders up to these days, actually, that’s also–”
“Please,” Kon half-chokes, not even sure what he’s asking for, and Bernard takes his hands off his chest to wrap an arm around his waist and tug him in closer against himself, which isn’t even something the guy’s actually physically capable of doing but also isn’t something Kon is any kind of capable of not letting him do, and then wraps his other arm up around his neck to grip the back of it, and Kon somehow ends up less riding the other and more just–just rocking a little bit in his lap, pulled down fully onto his cock and just–just full of it. All of it. Just–all of it, while Bernard coaxes him into just–just barely rolling their hips together over and over and . . .
“How’s that, boy?” Bernard asks, scruffing the back of his neck again. “Comfy?”
Five seconds before the first time Bernard fucked him Kon would absolutely not have had any concept of having a dude’s entire dick up his ass be something that could count as “comfy”, but right now . . .
“Don’t pull out,” he half-pleads, half just begs, and Bernard tugs his head down just enough to let him press a kiss against his temple and squeezes the arm around his waist again; rolls his hips up again. Kon stifles a whimper.
“Naw, not gonna,” Bernard promises. “Not ‘til you’ve come again, at least.”
“Not even then,” Kon half-mumbles, feeling a little bit–dizzier, kind of, every time Bernard’s nails scritch the back of his neck; slumping down heavier into him without really meaning to or anything. “Please? Please just lemme keep it a little longer? Feels so–feels so good, makes me feel like you want me.”
“Aw, of course I want you, boy,” Bernard coos, and then just starts petting him outright. “You’re super cute. Super fun to pet-sit, too. And I already told you you could cuddle my cock if you wanted, didn’t I?”
“Wanna,” Kon pleads, feeling all warm and melty and heavy and barely remembering to roll his hips in counter to Bernard’s; barely remembering to keep his hands on his ass where the other put them. “Wanna–lemme cuddle it, lemme cuddle you, I’ll be a good boy, promise, promise, promise–”
“‘Course you will, boy,” Bernard hums, rubbing a flat palm up the underside of his fade. “Robin told you to be, didn’t he?”
Kon melts.
#timberkon#konbern#timkon#timbern#kon el#conner kent#bernard dowd#tim drake#superboy#dc robin#wip: think pink#dom/sub
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rating: gen cw: drinking/getting drunk, high society expectations, cranky steve and robin, period typical homophobia tags: no upside down au, rich kid steve au, steddie and Buckingham double date, chirstmas parties, Eddie learns whats in eggnog word count: 2412
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written for the steddiemas prompt "eggnog" but it's a good week late, another victim of the plague I caught lol
“You better go collect your man,” Robin whispered, having appeared out of nowhere.
Steve hissed, “Stop calling him that.”
His eyes darted around the room, both to make sure he wasn’t heard. Robin was right, he hadn’t seen his boyfriend (who was definitely not his date tonight) in a while. Probably not a good sign.
“Well he is,” she scoffed.
“You are supposed to be my date, that’s the cover story. For you and for me. Doesn’t really work if you go around talking about how I really brought Eddie.”
It shut Robin up for a second, just long enough for Steve to enjoy the victory, before she said, “Tell your parents to stop being so uptight.”
Except the counter to that was the same as it always was. “And yours are so cool about it.”
Probably not the round and round Robin wanted when she walked up here on some high horse. One she had no business climbing on. She knew Steve was always a little extra stressed at these stupid dinner parties and that tonight was going to be worse. Instead of being supportive, it was almost like she was trying to sabotage things.
They could talk about it later. Right now, Steve apparently had to go find Eddie because there was no way Robin was saying that for fun. He was doing something. Probably making a run for it…which was smart. Steve could, at least, show him the best escape routes and let him know he didn’t take it personally.
Especially because it was a lot harder for Steve to make that run for it anymore. Ever since they’d brought him in from the kiddie room (which was actually the garage), his moves were tracked. Sure he wasn’t sharing one sad, toppingless pizza with a bunch of kids he didn’t know anymore but at what cost? At least the garage had video games…and no one talking about investments or how he should have gone to college.
Steve went off to find out what was going on with Eddie. Robin, in her endless helpfulness, decided to stay put and give no direction. It left Steve to go from room to room, asking everyone he could. No one had seen him. Something that was maybe a good thing? This meant he wasn’t standing on expensive furniture telling some amazing and elaborate story that would be wasted on these stuffy assholes.
Things got so desperate, Steve asked his mom if she’d seen Eddie. She always knew everything that was happening at these parties. Yet she hadn’t seen him. It seemed unlikely and a quick segue into tired reminders to not cause a scene. This one came with the bonus lecture of not ignoring his date because “no respectable woman is sidelined for a friend, dear.”
And nothing proved more that Steve’s mom didn’t see everything. Not only would he and Robin stick by each other through anything, she wasn’t even his actual date. Though, Steve did have to admit the only people in the world who believed they weren’t dating were them. Probably Chrissy and Eddie but sometimes Steve wasn’t so sure.
Moving on from his mom before he got roped into some mind-numbingly boring discussion, Steve ran into Chrissy. She was Eddie’s date who was really Robin’s date and had been folded into the group shenanigans. Which meant Steve was so ready to drag her into this quest. If he couldn’t have Robin, he could at least have help.
“We’ve lost your date,” Steve sighed, trying not to freak out yet.
“What do you mean?” she asked, instantly jumping to freaking out.
Steve linked their arms together and continued walking on, trying to think of where else he’d hide out. “Robin came up to me and told me to go collect my man. I thought he was doing something embarrassing but, like, I can’t find him. Do you think he’d leave?”
“No,” she cooed. “He’s been so worried about this night, there’s no way he’d leave you. He wouldn’t.”
Something that would have been so much more flattering if Steve had any fucking clue where the guy was.
“The garage!” Steve said, realizing the one place he hadn’t looked.
Chrissy didn’t say anything, just picked up her pace and they sped off toward the kiddie party. Of course. it was in the detached garage. Heaven forbid the kids breathed in the others, dad’s cars would lower in value at the mere thought.
So they barged through the door and onto the familiar path, still arm and arm, laser-focused on the only place it made sense for Eddie to be.
Before the door closed behind them, the soft exclamation of “Steve” was sung out and Chrissy and Steve both leaped into the grass, barely holding back screams as the voice startled them.
Steve easily moved Chrissy behind him as they both looked for the source of the voice, rather than some creepy old guy or party crasher, it was the exact person they were looking for. Both of them let out a matching, but quiet, exclamation for finding Eddie.
He was sat on a stone bench, leaning against the house, and smoking. Not only was he well hidden by shrubbery but Steve had expected to find him indoors. He needed that last glimmer of hope that Eddie was still at the party. And he hadn’t exactly left so that was…something?
“Hey man,” Eddie drawled out.
Steve’s eyes narrowed but he turned to make sure Chrissy was stable and had recovered from the little fright neither of them was going to speak about.
“We’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Chrissy said.
Resigning to her point, Steve nodded and went for the “what she said” shrug.
“I’ve been ri-ight here, baby.”
“He’s drunk,” Chrissy and Steve whispered to each other.
“Oh no!” Eddie cried out, dropping his head back. “Who told you?”
“I think you did, champ,” Chrissy laughed.
This probably wasn’t great. Steve went into panic mode immediately, ideas on what to do next sped through his mind followed by the consequences of each. A drunk Eddie was less likely to keep up the ruse, one he and Robin had organized so carefully.
It wasn’t time to come out, yet. Steve knew that time was rapidly approaching. Each and every day he had to lie about who he was with or what he was doing was another stab in the chest but at The Harrington Christmas Soiree? That was not the time. If they could just get into the new year, Steve would come clean, and probably get disowned, but at least it wouldn’t go down for “trying to steal the spotlight”.
Chrissy rubbed her hand between Steve’s shoulder blades. He had to be thinking awfully loudly right now. Where was Robin when he really needed her?
“I didn’t mean to,” Eddie pouted.
Steve watched Eddie pat around the bench and his own clothes, looking for his lighter. It was such a distinct move but it brought in this creeping feeling of normalcy with it. They’d done this before. Both drunk and sober.
As he had many times before, Steve reached into his pocket and got his lighter. Once he was close enough, he shielded the flame so Eddie could re-light his cigarette. Which he did with ease. The smoke billowed from Eddie and cleared both of their heads.
“How’s that work, though?” Steve asked. He then turned to Chrissy and leaned in a bit. “Could you go find Robin, remind her not to gloat, and maybe get a glass of water? In that order of importance.”
“She’s not going to gloat,” Chrissy said but it’s already an apology. They both know the truth. It’s part of Robin’s charm but it’s always extra annoying in moments like these.
“That’s the spirit, let's hope for Christmas miracles.”
They share a giggle that they’ve earned by being as close to Robin as they are and Chrissy disappeared back inside. Steve sat down next to Eddie and moved his hand so Steve could take a quick drag off the cigarette. He’s going to need it…or some of whatever Eddie had.
“Alright, what’s the story then?”
“Have you ever had eggnog,” Eddie asked. A question that feels wildly off topic but, again, he’s a little drunk so a coherent sentence is a great start.
“Yeah, it’s disgusting.”
“No-ooooooooo. No. Look, listen, I mean. It’s not. You’re wrong. Wayne makes it all the time,” Eddie leaned in closer, a hand cupped over his mouth as he whispered. “Every year.”
“Yeah, my parents do too. It’s nasty. The one in the punch bowl is the one you want.”
“Au contraire, that one has alcohol in it and I’m supposed to behave,” Eddie has his finger raised, wagging in the air like a cartoon teaching valuable life lessons.
“And so’s the eggnog.”
“Mmmmmm, no. I think I’d know that.”
“I…actually, yeah. I’d have thought you knew that too. Wait, so how– you know you’re drunk now, right?”
“Yeah but, ya know, we’re not telling Steve. He’s going to make me sleep on the couch for a whole week.”
“Sure,” Steve pressed his lips together and nodded. This was ridiculous and he kind of wished Eddie was just giving some rambunctious nerd speech. “But how’d you get drunk then?”
“Sabotage, obviously. The Harrington’s don’t want the heir to their throne with a commoner like me.”
“So they spiked your drink?”
“Totally.”
“Somehow complimentary you think they’d waste liquor on that,” Steve shrugged and he snatched Eddie’s pack of cigarettes to light one for himself.
“So it was Robin!”
“More believable actually. No, it was the eggnog.”
“There’s not alcohol in eggnog, Wayne wouldn’t give me it if there was.”
“Because you have to put it in, which my parents do.”
In a different situation, this would be funny. Steve might even find a way to laugh about it later but the guilt simmering in his chest for not teaching Eddie about which drinks had liquor is too strong to enjoy the laughable way his boyfriend accidentally got drunk.
All the solutions Steve had run through didn’t fit the situation anymore. They were likely both going to have to leave. Or worse, Eddie and Chrissy were and that’d ruin so many people’s nights.
Before he could think of a way to save everyone’s good time, Chrissy returned. Robin right behind her. Steve quickly stamped out the cigarette like Robin wouldn’t see and stood to talk to them.
He filled them in on the whole eggnog situation. It earned the appropriate level of laughter but once it subsided, they started trying to actually solve the problem. Eddie sat content on the bench, watching them adoringly as they worked out his fate. Steve had to give it to him, he was a very happy drunk.
“Hey, psst, hey. Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey,” Eddie said as they were finalizing some plans to get him upstairs to Steve’s room and full of coffee.
“Oh my god,” Robin said, trying to shut him up.
Steve walked over, leaning into his space so he wasn’t towering over him. “Yeah, man. What’s up?”
“I just need you to know-”
“Oh boy.”
“I came in with a smoking hot blonde but she’s not really my date.”
With all the patience in his body, Steve let out a sigh that was every bitchy comeback he had rolled into one sound, and said “Yup.”
“You’re way better.”
“You didn’t even commit to that. At least hit on me. Ugh. Can you just be cool for like two more minutes?”
“Cool? Yeah? Yeah! I can be cool for so many minutes. Two, ten, six, eighty. I’m good at it.”
“You’re not, so we better do something quick.”
“We should fool around is what we should do. This place has to have so many rooms. I didn’t even peek in half of them.”
Steve turned around and looked at the girls, “I think we gotta leave.”
“You can’t leave your own family Christmas party,” Robin said.
“I’ve done it so many times. Chrissy and Eddie have to go because Eddie’s sick. You and me can work something else out.”
Eddie stood up and leaned on Steve. “You should have some of that eggnog. I guess they make it with alcohol here.”
“Will you stop acting like we don’t know each other!” Steve scrubbed his hand over his face.
Robin sucked her teeth, “Might be for the best, he won’t blow anyone’s cover that way.”
“But he’s being so obnoxious about it,” Steve groaned.
“Good thing he’s the only one being obnoxious,” Robin said, crossing her arms over her chest.
A pose Steve mirrored, “What do you suggest then?”
“Let him sleep it off. He’s right, there’s plenty of rooms here and all we have to do is tell the truth for once. He didn’t know there was alcohol in the eggnog.”
“I didn’t know. I gotta tell Wayne though, it’s way better this way.”
“Who doesn’t know,” Steve groaned. Not frustrated at Eddie for not knowing, not really, but stressed out by the situation and that had to go somewhere.
“What if,” Chrissy said with her shoulders pulled up to her ears. The meek injection spoke to her nervousness but she got everyone’s attention. “We joined Eddie?”
Eddie, who was draped on Steve’s back with an arm over his shoulder and idly rubbing Steve’s chest, hummed in approval. The comfort of Eddie’s weight had Steve forgetting everything they were supposed to be hiding as he melted into the comfort and contact.
Still, he and Robin voiced matching sounds of confusion.
“It’s not embarrassing if the ‘kids’ got drunk. It’s our first time here, they almost expect us to overdo it so…let’s overdo it. Eddie won’t be the one who didn’t know this or that, we’ll all just be young adults doing what’s expected of us.”
Steve pondered the plan. “We couldn’t go wild.”
“It’s not a frat house,” Robin said for Chrissy.
Eddie gave a soft “Yeah” that Steve knew was meant to mock Robin but came out like agreement.
“It could work.”
“It could be fun!” Chrissy cooed, jumping up and down a few times. Maybe they all needed to take the edge off here.
The hand that was on Steve’s chest now held his cheek as Eddie kissed the other one.
“Alright, alright. Let’s go have some fun,” Steve groaned, doing his best to act like he hated this.
“Finally!”
#steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#(weird aus for a half baked idea but it wouldn't leave my head)
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jingle all the bidet
(a wolfstar holiday au.
happy christmas eve. this is simply nonsense. enjoy xoxo)
--
Remus practically ran to the front door once he heard the knock, socks sliding on the hardwood floors, sweater sleeves pushed up to his elbows though that wasn't particularly helpful. The cuffs were soaking, and the extra fabric drooped down to his forearms, small droplets splattering as he twisted the knob in a hurry, flinging the door of the house open.
"Hello, sir. I'm with Potter's Plumbing, we got a call about--"
"Yes! Yes! That's me," Remus said, gesturing wildly for the man to step through the doorway.
"I didn't finish--"
"As long as you're a plumber, I don't much care what call you were supposed to be on. You're here, you're helping me. Remus, hi, so nice to meet you--"
"Sirius." Sirius seemed to get the hint, stepping into the house and Remus was able to firmly shut the door behind him, perhaps a little too forcefully.
"On a different day, I'd make a comment about our names and how we should join some sort of support group for parents with odd senses of humor but--" Remus didn't bother to look behind him as he walked quickly down the hallway, to see if Sirius was following him, just blindly hoping Sirius had these sort of emergency calls all the time. As a plumber does. No time for small talk and pleasantries and other superfluous information.
Just quick. Down to business. Before a house flooded. Or maybe that was unique to Remus.
"Not today?" Sirius remarked from behind, a touch of laughter in his voice.
"Absolutely not today. You see, I'm in a bit of a plumbing crisis--on the Eve before Christmas Eve nonetheless. Festivus!-- so you can imagine my stress, I simply do not have the time to pencil in a good joke, because there are bigger issues at hand and I'm hoping you'll know exactly what to do, because I am at a loss and well....ta da!" Remus stopped just in front of the bathroom door, a weak smile on his face as he glanced between the mess of the master bathroom, and Sirius.
It was a scene from a film. Except instead of the bathroom being booby-trapped and finagled to catch robbers from killing him, Remus had made an entire crime scene attempting to install a bidet himself.
How hard could it be?
Remus should’ve known when he was required to use a wrench that it would end poorly, but he had a modicum of faith, and a stubborn streak a mile long.
There was an elbow-sized hole in the wall behind the toilet.
The tile flooded. Remus’s house slippers soggy on the bottom and cast aside outside the bathroom door.
Remus had put a bucket behind the piping, but that didn’t catch much water at all when it all shot up like a geyser into the air, drops now falling from the ceiling. Remus had somehow managed to take down the shower curtain as well, and if he was brave enough later, he thought he might ask Sirius for help putting that back up.
The top toilet cover had a handsome chip missing from it.
The toilet seat off its hinges.
And the bidet proudly on the floor.
Sirius tilted his head to the side slowly, surveying the scene wordlessly and inhaling deeply. Sirius took a pencil from out of his back pocket, scribbling a few notes on a notepad before turning to Remus and opening his mouth.
“We—”
“I know, I know. You’re probably wondering what the bloody hell happened,” Remus chuckled nervously, “And if I’m being honest, I’m wondering the same thing. I-I-I read the instructions before attempting to do this and I have always been a good student. A great one even!” Remus started and then stopped, “Okay, no, that was a lie. I’ve always been an okay student, but I know how to read. And in theory, I had it down pat. Flawlessly executed in my mind. But damn are toilet’s a lot harder to maneuver than the bloody instructions made it seem and one thing leads to another, I’m squatting down, elbow-deep in drywall. Literally,” Remus gestured to the hole behind the toilet, “I guess the only thing is I’m glad the water was clean and flushed and, and, well, you know what I mean don’t you?”
“I was going to say,” Sirius started, tongue poking out to wet his bottom lip, the corners of his mouth turning upward in amusement, “I hope you have another bathroom to use in the meantime.”
“Thank god we do.”
“Alright,” Sirius nodded, hitching up the knees of his jeans and squatting down to get a closer look at the damage. The band of his underwear poked over the top of his jeans.
“A-alright, then. I’ll. Just..stay out of your hair and uh, let you get to work.”
“Sounds good.”
“Do you need anything? I think there’s a wrench down there somewhere,” Remus pointed to the broken ceramic behind the toilet. Sirius stood back up and turned around to face Remus, who, at that moment, realized he was standing much too close, now standing nearly nose to nose with a stranger-plumber and he flushed. “Ah! Sorry, sorry, I’ll just—”
“I’ve got to get some supplies from my truck, but otherwise I should be all set. The beauty of calling a plumber is they take care of it for you, and you can just relax, Mr….?”
“Remus! No, I mean not Mr. Remus. Remus Lupin. Mr. Remus Lupin.”
“Alright, Mr. Remus Lupin, rest easy,” Sirius said, with a quick smirk, walking past Remus down the hallway again toward the front door. Remus felt like he was chasing after him Sirius’s stride was so long and certain.
“No, I mean, you don’t need to call me Mr. Remus Lupin. Or Mr. at all. It’s just Remus.” Sirius nodded again and exited the house.
--
Remus wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do while a maintenance person was in his home. He recalled vaguely as a child hiding in his room until they left, pretending he did not exist--there were absolutely no children in this home, and if there were they certainly were not present at the time they were there, no sir! And typically, Gideon was the one who handled service requests. Remus making it a point to be uncharacteristically busy the moment something needed a repair. A light not working? Suddenly Remus needed to leave and return a package that had been sitting there for two weeks already. But Gideon was away, finishing up work for the holiday season, which was the perfect time for Remus to surprise him with a gift.
A shame it ended in absolute disaster.
And now Remus didn’t know what to do.
With his hands, with his time, with his anything. And opted to pace back and forth down the hallway as Sirius started working in the bathroom.
“Hello!” Remus poked his head into the bathroom, hands on the door frame. “Just checking in.”
“Checked,” Sirius told him, not moving from his position on the floor of the bathroom. Sirius’s work boots were damp on the bottom, uniform shirt rolled up to his elbows, and the long curly hair that had previously been down and dusting the man's shoulders, pulled up and out of the way.
“Can I get you anything? Water, or a snack, surely you must be hungry or--”
“I’m all set, Remus.”
“Or, maybe I could--”
Sirius cleared his throat and sat up to look at Remus, elbows resting on the top of his knees, “Though I know it perhaps feels odd, as usually, I assume, when you have guests over, you entertain them in some capacity. But in this situation, it is quite okay to ignore me.”
“I…people really just ignore you?”
“Most of the time. Spare a few odd moments of chatter, but I believe you said this was an emergency and there simply wasn’t time for that today.”
“Well you don’t seem too concerned about all this.”
“I’ve seen so much worse.”
“That’s comforting. Perhaps I could make time for a joke or two then.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“Oh, uhm,” Remus’s eyes went wide, “I-I didn’t mean an actual joke, I don’t think I have any of those, though I really should. I’m a teacher, you see. Kids love jokes, but I think most of the time, I’m the joke and don’t necessarily need to come up with something with a punchline. So, I might be fresh out, but if you give me an hour I could look one up.”
“Why did the Christmas tree go to the barber?”
“What?”
“Why did the Christmas tree go to the doctor?” Sirius repeated, soft smile on his face as he waited Remus to answer.
“Uh…I dunno. Why?”
“It was looking a little green,” Sirius finished, slapping the top of his knee for effect and Remus snorted.
“That was pretty good.”
“My godson is seven and is in his joke telling phase. I had to find a few of my own. You know, just to make sure I didn’t lose the cool godfather credibility.”
“Of course,” Remus said, and nodded, “Sorry…I’ll let you work.”
“If you would prefer…you don’t have to ignore me.”
“Really?” Remus asked, but was already inside the bathroom yet again, “Because I am winded walking up and down that hallway, between this botched installation and the pacing and the everything, this is the highest my heart rate has been in years. I promise, you won’t even know I’m here.” Remus took a seat on the edge of the bathtub letting out a sigh of relief as Sirius lowered himself to the floor once again.
--
It turns out, it was probably a good thing that Remus had never been home previously when a repair person had entered, because he could not simply pretend to not be there any longer. He was there. And Remus did not do well with silence.
“....so anyway, when we moved in, and I think Gideon--my partner, did I say that already? Oh, I did, I know I did-- wants to repaint the walls next year, to add some life into the place. But I dunno, I think it’s pretty lively. Do you think so? You go in a lot of homes, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“And does mine, breathe life?”
“The snowflake hand towels are a nice touch,” Sirius commented, as he twisted something on the side of the toilet.
“That's what I thought! Why do we need to paint and redo everything, when we can…spruce it up, with towels and…other decorations? Other..less permanent things,” Remus finished and Sirius hummed. “Not that I know much, or anything really, about designing and homes. This is my first one. Well, after the one I lived in before, but there isn’t exactly a book about how to…home. You know?”
“I get what you mean,” Sirius confirmed, “Are you French?”
“Pardon?”
“The bidet,” Sirius said from his position on the bathroom floor, back on the ground and doing something to the piping. The number of tools Sirius had brought with him was evidence enough that Remus had no business installing the bidet in the first place, the wrench he had sworn would be enough Sirius hadn’t even touched. Though he probably had nicer wrenches. Fancier wrenches. Did wrenches have levels of class? Just as well Remus would use a poor man's wrench.
“Uh. No, no, I’m not French. Not really. Sort of? My father is. Or…was. Is? He died, so he’s not…currently French and walking around saying Bonjour, or mon petit chou anymore, not that…that wasn’t all he said but he is French but just French as in dead in a cemetery. But his body-you know what I mean, don’t you? Anyway, he was—is—French, I am not. Well not, not. I grew up in Wales with my Mum. We barely had plumbing, sometimes we just went out back and dug a hole in the ground! Never had this problem with holes, I’ll tell you that much, no, no problems like this,” Remus trailed off and Sirius made another hum of acknowledgement as he worked, “Sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that up. People get weird when I do. Like oh, I’m so sorry for your loss, and I can’t say, It’s fine I barely knew him! Without sounding like a complete arsehole so, I usually just make it weird and awkward and uh…well, you have a front-row seat to that,” Remus said, slapping his hands on his thighs, the thwack against his jeans echoing through the bathroom.
“You’re not an arsehole.”
“You don’t know me that well.”
“You’re not an arsehole for not knowing your parent,” Sirius clarified. “Wales is nice.”
“It is. It was.”
“So you’re not French, why the bidet?”
Remus sighed standing up from the ledge of the tub, pacing the floor for the bathroom as he spoke, "Well, you see, I got it as a gift for my partner. Gideon, remember? They're away on business, and I told myself this was the perfect time to get ahead on Christmas shopping. If you knew me...which you don't, not really, but maybe by the end of this whole mess we'll be fast friends! I already told you about my dead Dad, and that's usually something I hold off on…it’s a bit of a downer. Anyway, if you knew me..know me, I'm terrible at planning ahead. I mean, who wants to go to the shops during the hols? Nobody. I don't care how much you love your mother--and I love mine, I promise I do, really--all the people running around, it's just too much. So I put it off and put it off, and suddenly it's Christmas Eve and--"
"That's about the worst time to go..." Sirius said, shifting his position so he was crouching instead, lifting the toilet seat off in one smooth piece.
"Precisely, so sometimes I don't even bother going at all, which I suppose might make me a bad person. I'm not! Occasionally an arsehole, but not a bad person! I recycle and, and, and I’m a good friend, I-I-I just...planning and gifts and the whole bit of it...isn't my strongest suit,” Remus said. “So I was so proud of myself! Because Gideon had mentioned wanting a bidet for the bathroom, the breathing life and the personal touches and all that--”
“I’m noticing a theme…”
“Yes! Life, carpe fucking diem! So he mentioned it, and I remembered--which is another thing I am not the greatest at-- and I went out and bought the bidet! Hid it in my office at work for a month knowing he’d be out of town today, and it would be the perfect opportunity to install it. He’d come back from his trip, go to the bath to wash up and he would be overjoyed, elated, delighted even, to see the bidet there, and I would be there shouting Happy Christmas! and for once feel like I really nailed the Christmas gift. Because the thing is, he is so thoughtful and so good at gift giving, and I…just come up short. And I thought not this year! But instead of coming home to a beautifully installed bidet, he’ll come home to…a plumbing bill and peeling up linoleum tile and a patched up hole and…a shower curtain. And-and- who knows if he’ll even like it! He’ll probably hate it.”
“Why would he hate it?”
“He never usually likes my gifts.”
“Who…doesn’t just say thank you for a gift?” Sirius asked, pausing his work to look at Remus. “That’s kind of the rule isn’t it? Even if it's an itchy sweater, or something you don’t particularly like, you say thank you and then later return it and pretend it didn’t fit. It’s not about the gift.”
“Well, I don’t know if there’s rules exactly,” Remus countered, his eyebrows furrowing as he thought of birthdays and holidays gone by where Gideon had remarked "oh, this isn’t exactly what i wanted, or you tried, Re in response to Remus’s efforts.
“Secret rules, as my godson would say.”
“I mean, sure, there’s secret…rules, I guess, but remember? were you not listening to the whole bad at gift giving part?”
“I listened. Were you gifting rotten eggs?”
“Well no. It’s just that, he, and-and-I we’re just never on the same page, and his gifts are--and well, mine are--”
“Ah.”
“And, and, and who the fuck gets their partner a bidet for Christmas?”
“Well…maybe someone who has a partner who asked for one?” Sirius said, smirking a little before getting back to his work.
“Well you’re a bit arrogant, aren’t you?”
“Or just…right.”
“No. Because he didn’t explicitly ask for one he more mentioned it in passing…he’s mentioned countless things in passing, why not just by one of those and not a major home renovation…this was a terrible idea. This was stupid! Why didn’t you tell me that? Going on about the gift rules and secrets, and the real issue here is that this was a bad idea!”
“I’m in the business of fixing up baths, not sharing my opinions on Christmas gifts.”
“Except you just did.”
“Very unprofessional of me, I admit.”
Remus said, stopping his pacing to run a hand over his face, “This is very unprofessional of me. Arguing with my plumber! About presents. And, it’s my fault, really. I should’ve told you in the call! That’s what I should’ve done, straight out the gate, just let you know the real situation, and I should’ve said that I bought this stupid bidet, and made a mess of my bathroom, and a million other wrong things--”
Sirius grabbed the bidet from the floor and placed it on top of the toilet. Pieces falling perfectly into place.
“It’s not a bad gift,” Sirius told him, “Odd perhaps, but thoughtful. Plumbers honor.”
“Really…?”
“Really.”
“You’re right!” Remus said, and as Sirius made some final adjustments before pressing a button on the bidet. A jingle played.
“And, for what it's worth, you bought a good bidet. Nicer bidets tend to be more finicky to install so…really, this mess showcases heaps of effort.”
“Thank you!” Remus responded, somewhat indignantly, throwing his arms into the air. Someone understood.
“That’s exactly what he should say. Your partner. When he walks into this room and notices--”
“The bidet.”
“The spectacular bidet.”
“What…if he doesn’t?” Remus asked quietly after a long silence, two men standing and admiring the bidet sitting proudly on a toilet with a broken top, singing its little song to prove it was functioning.
“Would you like my professional opinion?”
“...Yes.”
“If he doesn’t say thank you and kiss you full on the mouth for this very thoughtful gift…then at least you can enjoy this bidet and you throw a massive party with all of your friends and tell them to use this bathroom.” Remus snorted, thinking about walking guests into the master bedroom and bathroom during a party--coworkers and neighbors and friends, stepping on the carpet in their shoes just to get to the bidet.
“What’s your unprofessional one?”
“Find someone who will say thank you.”
“So I should find a liar.”
“Thank you for thinking of me, and thank you for the effort it took to find this gift, isn’t a lie in my book. It’s not about the bidet.”
“It could be.”
“Yeah but it's not.”
“But it is, kind of.”
“No.”
Remus opened his mouth and closed it again, unsure of what to say, Sirius grinning smugly at Remus, daring him to disagree again. This man might have had the same stubborn streak Remus had. His stomach fluttered for a moment, almost laughing, almost joyful at the silly, naive thought of spending a lifetime with a man, this man, who argued without the malice behind the words.
“It’s not that simple anyway,” Remus said, “Just…leaving.”
“Never said it was, but either way…this is yours,” Sirius gestured to the bidet, “And someone should use it.
--
It had only been a few hours, but the bathroom looked good as new. Bidet installed, hole patched up and water was mopped up. The only sign that something had gone awry was the toilet top with the chunk missing.
“We’ll have to get you a new one,” Sirius told him, writing up the invoice as they walked to Remus’s front door, toolbox in hand
“Will that take weeks?”
“No, a few days just because of the holidays. I’ll bring it by the 26th, and it’ll be all set.”
“You are truly a life saver, I don’t know what I would’ve done, and….thanks for listening to me talk…all day. I know you probably didn’t sign up for that exactly when you took this call, and probably had better things to be doing, and--”
“This was one of the more enjoyable calls I’ve had actually,” Sirius told him, pausing in front of the front door. “I had a good time.”
Remus laughed awkwardly, reaching for the doorknob to open the door for Sirius, “This feels like the end of some sort of date…do you want me to walk you to your car?”
“Very kind, but I promise I’ll make it.” Sirius nodded, sticking out his hand. Definitely not a date. “Pleasure working with you Mr. Lupin.”
“Remus.”
“Remus,” Sirius said, “I’ll see you in a few days. My numbers on the invoice, should anything come up before then. Just…call.”
--
Christmas music was playing loudly in his living room, Sirius’s godson testing out his new dance moves learned at school on the rug, his best friends clapping along and joining in with their own dance moves alongside their child. Sirius had just pulled the roast chicken out of the oven--the shining star for the Christmas Eve feast-- when the phone rang. Oven mitts still on, he hurried to grab the land line, tossing a stray curl out of his face as he answered.
“Hello?”
“Hello, is this Potter’s Plumbing?” the voice on the other end said and Sirius couldn’t help but bite back a smile. He had been in Remus’s home for only a few hours, but had heard the other man talk enough that Sirius was certain he’d be able to identify who was speaking with his eyes closed. It was refreshing. Sirius returned home that day and recounted the emergency call to his best friend, leaving out no details about the frazzled, freckled, and messy man who attempted to install a bidet.
You put your personal number on the invoice? Sirius, that’s too bold.
Sirius was thinking he wouldn’t call.
He hadn’t expected any bidet related emergencies.
“This is Sirius Black,” Sirius said, “But I am part of Potter’s Plumbing.”
“Oh, good, Sirius, it’s you. Hello, it’s Remus Lupin, remember, you serviced my bidet a few days ago and there's a toilet top that needs to be repaired, and we hung up a shower curtain together and I almost fell to my death off the bathtub ledge?”
“Ah yes,” Sirius teased, “Thanks for those details to jog my memory, without them I would’ve definitely forgotten. Did you run into some trouble?”
“Uh…No.”
“Oh…then, how can I help you, Mr. Lupin?”
“Remus.”
“Remus.”
“I…” Sirius heard Remus click his tongue a few times, “I…decided to…not…I mean, I don’t need a new toilet top. Can I cancel that? I think it looks better this way.”
“With the missing part?” Sirius asked, feeling a touch disappointed at the nature of the call.
“Yeah.”
“I’ll go ahead and cancel that for you, Remus. No problem at all. Was that it?”
“No,” Remus said and paused again, “I’m having a sort of party.”
“Sort of?”
“A party, on New Year's Eve. I decided. To celebrate the new year and new beginnings and all that, glad tidings, you know, the things people usually celebrate. And…also to celebrate the bidet that's in the bathroom because I’ve been told it's a good bidet, like a nice one even! A professional told me that, and it…uh should be appreciated by someone. So I'm having a party and I’m wondering if…you like bidets?”
“Did I not tell you I’m French? I love bidets.”
#jingle all the bidet#soft christmas drabbles#wolfstar#sirius black#remus lupin#happy holidays from my home to yours#but also this was very fun to write and such a ridiculous idea#may 2025 be the year of more ridiculous ideas
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CW- reader is asleep whilst most of this happens!!!, Non-con, unprotected p-in v sex, (slight) degradation, defloration, size difference, Simon is drunk
The bird's been bothering Simon all evening.
She's not his type, she's way too pushy and most importantly, she keeps on sending nasty looks to the captains daughter, simply because you had the audacity to smile and wave at Simon, which was enough to make him have to readjust himself in his pants.
"You know what- Simon you're an ass-!"
Well, that's his bird gone. In tears of upset, she leaves him at the bar and not two seconds later, you go out after her. 'God' the man thinks to himself 'if you're that nice to people who glare at you all evening, how nice are you to folks that are nice back?'
After you come back in there's a slight frown on your face as you invite him to sit with you, your father and the rest of the team.
"Don't you think you could apologize to Meredith?She's a nice woman and you made her cry-" Simon sees his captains hand squeeze your thigh, and you shut yourself up, though not without a confused look towards your father.
"But she is right; I'm sure if you we're nicer to your birds, they'd stay longer." This time, it's your father speaking. Simon doesn't believe that.
After all, he's never seen Kyle been more than a little nice to you, and you're still all over him.
He wonders if you and your little unofficial boyfriend have already had sex, or if he has more tact than Simon and will wait until your father's gone out somewhere?
Pretty little captain's daughter, always all dolled up and sweet and caring, he can't help it that his cock chubs up at that. After all, you're even nice to him. Even though he adjusts his cock in front of you and keeps eye contact during that.
What can he say? You're the sweetest girl he knows.
«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»
Later when they've all gone to bed in the inn, he gets up to take a piss at night. 'Geez, maybe you should stop drinking so much?' Yeah right, the blonde thinks to himself.
Maybe.
Stumbling back to his room in complete darkness whilst still inebriated is...difficult, but he can manage. Though he doesn't remember his room smelling like vanilla and strawberries, the door was agape and he's left his like that too.
He wants nothing more than to stumble into bed, get one out into his fist to the though of his captain's girl, and go to sweet, sweet nightmare land, but even while drunk, he can tell there's someone already under the covers.
Ah. So that's why it smells so sweet. Didn't he send his bird away? Well, if she snuck into his bed, he'd give her what she was hoping for and send her off once he's turned her brain to mush.
"Pathetic' Slag. Acting all huffy at dinner and then sneaking into my bed?"
She stirred. Was she asleep? Well, that didn't matter. Pressing her head into the pillows and pulling her ass up, he had to choke back a mean laugh at her nightwear.
"The hell you wearing pyjamas for? Trying to hide that you're a whore?"
No matter, these could come off just like a night gown. It seems like she finally woke up when he yanked her pants off, considering the body beneath him started fussing and thrashing slightly.
"Can't put it in 'less you stay still."
He grunted,rubbing his cock along her- fuck where those just regular cotton panties? Shouldn't she be wearing a thong?
"What, didn't feel the need to pretty yourself up for me even a little bit?" He buffs as he slaps her ass and yanks down her underwear just enough to expose her holes.
In the dark, it was kind of difficult to find the right entrance, but when he felt her folds, he also found the proper hole (or at least the one he wouldn't be yelled at for using), nudging his blunt, thick head against it and pushed in.
"Fucking- tight like a goddamm virgin-!" The scarred man grunted, having to force in inch after inch.
"S-STOP-" the voice in the pillow muffled, so he pressed her face down harder. Shouldn't have snuck into his bed expecting anything but this. He'd make sure she'd learn that, despite her thrashing and muffled crying.
Strange though, that that voice sounded sweet like the doll's voice. He smirked when he thought of her; after all, wasn't he doing a great job making it up to his bird?
Heavy as he knew he was, he still put all his weight into the thrusts that made the bed creak as it bounced against the wall, halfway leaned over the soft body beneath him, his chest completely covering the entirety of the back who's muscles flexed and relaxed the entire time.
He buried his face in her neck, allowing him to hear the moaning and the whimpering and the crying so much better. Huh. Strange. His bird was really starting to sound like the sweet girl probably fast asleep in her father's arms.
Maybe that was just the alcohol. Letting him hear what he wanted but couldn't have. Mocking him since a mutt like him couldn't get sweet girls like her. No, the sweet and caring girls were for boys like Kyle who'd at least pretend to be soft and gentle.
Not for Simon. Never ever for Simon.
The speed and power behind his thrusts intensified until he felt himself clench up, placing a hand on her belly as he shot his seed into her.
Fuck the bulge he felt temporarily mis-shaping her warm belly could make him go at least two more rounds.
She was probably on birth control, yeah?
Finally, since he got his peak, he pulled back out to find her leaking with his cum and her arousal, though the latter was awfully thin in texture.
And then the scent hit him. That was blood.
His eyes widened as he let go of her head, already cursing slightly as she sobbed and then-
"H-HELP....!"
In all of 20 seconds the light in the room turned on, making Simon huff until his eyes widened for a second time in two minutes, since the person who had turned the lights on was no other than his captain, and the little thing sobbing into her hands and leaking his spend was no other than-
"GET OFF OF MY DAUGHTER!"
#cod x reader#simon ghost riley#18+ mdni#cod#size difference#dubc0n#Poor reader :(#Wasn't on birth control#Might have to carry this brutes giant babies :(
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I have to rant to someone who will understand how egregious and obnoxious this is because my friends are sick of me. The reaction to rural NC in this hurricane? This will be the norm if Tim Walz is VP. Walz has been dismissive, insulting, and malicious towards rural Minnesota. He said that there's nothing of value, nothing but rocks and cows. He has very clearly expressed antagonism towards rural values and culture. Tim Walz will brag about his education bills, yet he tracks down rural schools with high native populations and penalizes their funding and burdens their staff with unnecessary training and even legal threats because they punish "too high" a number of native students compared to white. I work among schools that are 99% native and they every year have mandated training to address their racial bias and face harsh penalties from the state for punishing too many native kids. They have to adapt to the loss of funding. Despite the rez saying they want to set a standard of excellence and they are proud to be breaking generational curses, Walz denies them crucial funding and punishes them for trying to help their kids learn to make the right choices. He recently signed in a bill requiring free lunches, and knowingly and purposefully did not modify the paperwork process many rural schools rely on to make up the missing our districts desperately need, which relies on students signing up for free and reduced lunches. This bill has devastated funding and left many rural schools scrambling. In addition, he continues to refuse to provide rural schools with more support to bus students, knowing that they cannot afford the costs of bussing over so many miles. Instead, he continues to pour funding into transportation for students in the cities. He has implemented bloated and wasteful mentor programs for teachers yet refuses to allow schools to take disciplinary action against students who directly threaten the lives and wellbeing of teachers. We had a gun threat at our school and the district did not expel the student who made the threat to shoot up the school because he was native and Walz's administration was likely to sue. He also refuses to do anything about our shitty retirement. We have the top (or did before he fucked us over) educators in the nation, and yet are ranked among the bottom 5 for benefits and retirement. But he refuses to fix retirement because nobody wants to teach in his schools, and if he actually fixes retirement, there will be almost no teachers left.
Walz is wrathful and vindictive to rural communities because they don't vote for him or like his policies, and he purposefully makes our lives harder. As his records show, he is a liar and a braggart. In true Minnesotan fashion, he'll underhandedly cut you while he smiles and calls you his neighbor. That man is a snake, and if you despise what you see with the hurricane response, know that he will never pass up an opportunity to make the lives of those who didn't and wouldn't vote for him a living hell, and this level of abuse of rural communities and vulnerable poor populations will get worse.
I’m obviously a little late to this but man it’s always worse than I think!
The only thing good people ever had to say about Walz was “free lunches 😍” but even that was shit when you actually look at what the policy was and the impact it had.
And instead of treating rural areas like trash because they don’t vote the right way maybe he should have been treating them better if he wanted the votes.
The response from him and Harris to the hurricane over here was abysmal and of course that just speaks to what kind of people they are and their treatment of us after that storm definitely lost them North Carolina.
Sorry you’re stuck with him over there, though.
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“Thanks, I Stole Then from The President.”
This is my first fic written on Tumblr and my first fic in the DC fandom. I’ve been lurking and sorry if nothing’s all that canon accurate I’ve only really read the fan fictions on Ao3 this was idea was inspired by this post
Fic under the cut.
BREAKING NEWS: BRUCE WAYNE ON TUMBLR?!
Last night Bruce Wayne attended President Lex Luthor’s gala. According to online sources one young socialite commented on Mr. Wayne’s shoelaces and his response? His response was the tumblr famous, “Thanks I stole them from the President.”
That seemed to be the headline going around the morning after Bruce had infiltrated Luthor’s gala. He had arrived in his bat-suit not planning to actually attend the party as Brucie. Then he had lost sight of Luthor and his newest partner in crime so he went in to investigate.
Breaking into the building was easy. Finding a suit was a little harder but still manageable. It was a spare suit Luther had in one of his offices. He quickly changed out of the bat-suit and into the stolen suit. Bruce hid the bat-suit and joined the party.
Two minutes into the gala he regained sight on Luthor and his newest companion. Five minutes in he was approached by the first socialite. Thirty minutes in was when the line that started it all was said.
“I like your shoelaces,” commented a young man, no older than Dick at the oldest, offhandedly.
“Thanks, I stole them from the president,” Bruce replied before he could think it through completely.
The boy stared at him in shock for a moment. For a second Bruce thought he had taken it literally and he would have to come up with an excuse, but the man just smiled and walked away. It was definitely one of the weirdest interactions Bruce has had so far.
There were no further incidents that night, but when he got home the next morning the couple of his children who were in the manor and awake watched him with an expression of shock and awe.
Namely it was Tim, Cass, and Dick. The last who had broken his arm on patrol three weeks ago and was confined to the manor by Alfred.
Tim looked up from the computer on which he was typing something when Bruce walked in. And Cass’s eyes were wide as she watched Bruce.
“B?” Dick asked after a few silent moments of the three staring at Bruce. “Are you on Tumblr?”
“What?” Bruce replied confused. When Dick had spoken Tim had switched tabs and was typing furiously on his keyboard.
“Do you have Tumblr?” Dick asked again slower.
“No?” Bruce was still confused and his kids seemed to be having some sort of existential crisis.
“Yeah well, hate to say this but Bruce Wayne is trending on Tumblr right now along with the tag Tumblr’s Batman.” Tim interrupted.
“This happened like eight hours ago.”
Tim shrugs and takes a sip of his energy drink, “Tumblr works fast. You should see it when Ao3 goes down for five minutes.”
If Bruce’s thoughts could be seen right now he’s sure that they’re might be a giant question mark floating above his head.
About ten hours of research later and Bruce could say he was still thoroughly confused on how Tumblr works but he could now understand that it might be useful occasionally. He stares at the sign-up screen for a long moment before closing out of it. Making one now after all of this has gone down would be suspicious. Maybe he can commander one from one of his children who may have preexisting accounts.
Meanwhile on Tumblr
Tim watched the chaos going down as people frantically searched for Bruce Wayne’s account on Tumblr. Not that he himself wasn’t also searching for it. He really wanted to know if his adopted dad followed him and had seen some of his shitposts that were meant to never see the light of day after they had been posted. What happens on Tumblr stays on Tumblr.
Five minutes later reveals to the rest of the Bats that Bruce genuinely had no idea what he started with his reply and now felt it was too late to admit to the fact he does and not and never has had tumblr. Ten minutes later sees Cass volunteering to let Bruce use her account. There’s a reason she’s Bruce’s favorite. It’s because of times like this when all the rest of his children are laughing their asses off at him, but Cass is actually more subtle about it.
#Might add onto this later but really want to post#Is it any good?#No idea.#dc#bruce wayne#dick grayson#tim drake#cassandra cain#Based off a post#I have no idea what I did#Feedback please
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even though Heimerdinger was right in the end I think Viktor should have clocked him. either hit him with his cane or punted him across the sea cause how tf do you live like 1000 years and not have any idea how to help one of your former star pupils, your former assistant and half the creative team of hextech stay alive? surely you know at least one thing Viktor could try (that isn't experimenting on yourself with shimmer and toxic magic stars)????
like in both scenes where its mentioned Viktor is fucking dying he's either like: damn that's too bad i have to add you to my never ending list of bright stars that burn too quick (not a comfort you think it is man!!!!!) OR Jayce straight up says hey this thing you hate could save his life (and....well, he wasn't wrong) and he's just like "destroy it!" he didn't even offer an explanation beyond "bad!"
listen he did good in the end (at least for Ekko i love you dude) but I'm glad his ass was fired he needed a wake up call
he really is the opposite side of the coin to Singed. his inaction caused all the problems (not helping Zaun despite having 1000s of years to improve their lives, not supporting Jayce and Viktor in their quest to literally save Viktor's life) the way Singed' actions caused all the problems.
#heimerdinger should have been the one in the trenches fr fr like hes out in peaceful zaun becoming a country star#listen i love heimerdinger but dudeeeee he pissed me tf offfffff in s1#i mean i was sad when he bit it cause he finally made up for it by helping ekko#but MAN he should have had it a little harder#anti heimerdinger#arcane spoilers#arcane#viktor arcane#jayce talis#heimerdinger critical
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good morning can i show you guys the christmas card my little sister wrote me in french (she does not know any french)
joyeux Noël, j'espère que vous comprenez ce que je dis compte tenu de la fiabilité de Google Translate. Jespère qu'à l'avenir nous voir plus de deux fois par an. Je ne sais pas vraiment quoi dire d'autre, alors joyeux Noël et j'espère que papa t'a offert. Profitez également des autres choses que je mets sur la carte au lieu de vous ècrire un essai complet.
and then she wrote me a little crossword and a "connect the language to its way of saying 'merry christmas'" game 😭
#i really don't know what j'espère que papa t'a offert is supposed to be. seems to be missing a direct object#the previous sentence is also missing a couple words but i know what it is supposed to mean#french#sibling feels#anyway this was sweet#i am a little worried about her because a) one of the languages she put on the card for how to say merry christmas is hebrew#which is an odd choice if you're going to pick five languages to say merry christmas in lol#and i had just learned at dinner that b) she had never heard of chanukah. which is a bit concerning#also sidenote the hebrew version of merry christmas given is hag shmah which i'm guessing is the same as chag sameach?#which is used for any holiday not just christmas lol#i'm also a little worried because i think my brother gets more parental attention#or maybe my dad only pays attention to the sports that his kids play?#like my dad coaches my sister's team but didn't know what classes she has next semester#but seems to know all sorts of stuff about my brother's life#also she's 14 and i think wants to be much younger than that? or thinks 14 is very young (which it is but she is a teen. she called#herself a 'little girl' and was mad because she was home alone for the second time ever yesterday)#idk she's clearly just very sheltered. when they were driving me home we saw a homeless man on the side of the road holding#a sign and she said he was scary and i was like how come? he's just standing there#and she said one time she saw a guy like that and he was angry and now she thinks all of them (meaning homeless people ig)#are scary. so i had a conversation with her about that#like 14 is young she is a kid she has a lot of stuff to learn which is normal! but is she getting taught anything? is anyone paying#attention to her? i see her so rarely (as mentioned in the card) because i don't have a car and because i don't have#fond memories of that household and avoid my dad and stepmom but i should really try harder with her#my brother also wrote me a very nice card! he was pretty considerate yesterday which is also new#he did not discuss his opinion of the military or capitalism this time so i don't know how he is feeling about them these days lol#we talked a lot about sports lol
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thinking pondering to me john torres is like. what if u met a woman. with confidence and dignity and a strong moral backbone. you meet and she makes a distinct impression with her honesty and her frankness and she seems like she's always sure of what she wants and what she needs and she's so different from anyone else you know and thats exciting and she's exciting and she likes you specifically you. and you don't think much of you but it feels good to be liked by someone like that. you love her of course. you marry her. of course!
#diary#miral of course miral this post as all other posts on my blog is about miral. head in my hands#john torres and his projected insecurities and shitty behavior you will always be infamous.#im so deeply rooted in my headcanons for them i have au's . girl the universe isnt even that well established ?#call me b'elanna torres the way i'm turning miral and john over in my head to figure out what the heck happened#in my head john and miral are like. john voice she's never stuttered in her life she always knows what to do she's very serious strong head#on her shoulders. my kind of woman.#meanwhile miral is like. act first pray on it later was that a mistake? well what is a mistake really this is my path now#and i'll have to see how to handle what has been done. seeing as now it can't be changed shrugs. the honorable thing to do.#i also think they see a lot of their flaws as like-#consequences of their cultures and not like personal flaws which can sometimes be true but also sometimes they are very much flaws in the#person.#miral is a little too sure of herself bordering on arrogance and likes control. john is like ahh klingons and their surefootedness :)#<- a little correct but also very wrong.#john is very like. at his worst a cold shoulder bad at personal confrontation kind of a pushover quick to resent but usually just seems#serious and occasionally quiet . normally social tho! so miral is like. a consequence of his upbringing that can't be changed. i will#take him as he is.#which is a nice sentiment and would normally be applied well unless you are these two specifically.#what happens when its 10 or even just five years later and you're getting tired of the cowardice? what happens when its five years later and#you can't go a day without arguing? what happens then.#did you confuse her arrogance for poise for assertiveness? did you confuse her recklessness with courage? whos wrong her or you?#miral voice is he a fool does he not care? he's content to just stand by? cower?#i think from the klingon pov a man who isn't willing to fight for you and your relationship must be devastatinggggg#not literally of course here but also literally. lol#but yeah what does it do to you when the person you love won't even argue with you anymore just totally pulls away? leaves. head in my hands#who do you think fell first. idk but i know who fell harder! :) <- tears in my eyes#i really like pathways where they made miral like a chatty woman and had her offer to host parties for b'elanna and her friends it was so#sweet i should read it again.#i like her to be a little crazy though <3 :)
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All I can do until we see what happens with this election is hope, distract myself, and try to get others to vote, because if I think too hard about it my anxiety and depression gets worse and the voice in the back of my head that tells me to hurt myself and go hide in the woods or something gets louder
#emma posts#I guess I could also try to make offerings as a way to cope#depression#anxiety#the voice in the back of my head that tells me to kill myself keeps getting more chatty#I don’t think I’d go that far though#my desire to do anything keeps getting weaker#I’m scared#I can only do this and think ‘wouldn’t it be funny if we had something else crazy in fandom on the 5th?’#I have a therapy appointment for the first time in months scheduled for Friday#when i scheduled it it was coincidental timing but this might be a good thing#I am also thinking about changing therapists if my long time one feels dismissive of my concerns#I think ‘maybe I should have paid a visit to my family this week actually’ and then I remember that one brother moved back in with#my parents again and I’m like ‘actually maybe it’s best if I keep some distance for a bit. I can still text my parents about stuff’#i don’t want to be scared of that brother and I don’t think he’d ever hit me or anything. but it’s hard to be around him sometimes#he just gets so angry and he won’t get treatment like the rest of us do#he even called my other brother a slur and said ‘he was being sensitive about it’ and I was torn between staying hidden and throwing hands#but he’s way bigger than me and that would have just exilated things#he yells so loud and slams doors and says things that hurt and scare me and I just want to hide away. it’s not good#he refuses treatment for his issues and insults the rest of us for getting it for various issues of our own and he falls for so much#propaganda shit that’s supposed to draw third party people into that conservative fascist bigotry shit#the rest of the family can have totally chill conversations with each other even about politics but he just lashes out and I freeze up like#a scared rabbit. it’s different when it’s brought into one of the places you feel safest#and it’s somehow even harder when it’s your little brother and not your weird uncle#my parents are democrats who are more left than the actual party and my other brother isn’t really into politics#my parents kinda encouraged us to develop our own opinions though and it’s lead to me being really far left and my other brother#being in a really weird position where he thinks he’s some outsider but keeps falling for republican stuff#I know I would get angry for some similar psychological reasons when I was younger before treatment and maturity. but I was 13!#he’s a tall athletic man in his mid twenties! it’s a bit different!#I can see what lead him there. but he’s just been worse about it and it’s scary
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“ WHAT GETS THEM HARD! ”
jjk men x f!reader ࿐ MDNI.
ᰔ、summary. jjk scenarios on how their dicks get hard ofc
ᰔ、tags. (ft. gojo, geto, toji, choso), nsfw, female anatomy, cunnilingus, exhibitionism, sexting, masturbation, etc.
ᰔ、a/n. these are just my silly depictions. if u dont agree idgaf lol
SATORU GOJO has the dirtiest mind and the highest sex drive. his pants definitely start feeling a little tighter at the sight of you eating a popsicle or something. specifically in public. he would have no shame in it either—casually forming a smirk on his face and dropping a snarky innuendo about the way you’re eating. “can you suck me off like that when we get home?” he’d mumble from across the table, his eyes peeking out from the top of his glasses, a smirk plastered on his lips; wet from the constant licking of his tongue. your eyes widen, a small ‘pop’ sounding from your mouth when you took the frozen sweet out to gasp at the man in front of you. “gojo! are you serious?” you’d yell in a whisper, looking around to see if anyone had heard him. “you’re right,” he’d sigh, standing up from his chair to reveal the very prominent and very obvious bulge in his pants. “we should just do it now.”
SUGURU GETO on the other hand is a polite man. like satoru, he’s a real freak in the sheets—but not as shamelessly. the littlest things can get him hard for sure, but unintentionally seeing your undergarments would really get him going. like an accidental peek at your panties from under your skirt, or a shirt thats a little too see-through showing off the print on your bra. he wouldn’t say anything of course, not right away. you would just be minding your own business one minute and then he’s dragging you towards the bedroom the next. “sugu- what are you-?” you would ask in a confusing tone, craning your head to look at the said man who was now behind you—pushing your stomach up against the countertop; a single hand brought up to grope your breast while the other laid flat against your hip. “your bra is showing.” he’d let you know blankly; an attempt to distract you while his hand slid it’s way into your pants. you would look down in response to his comment, noticing that your bra was in-fact showing like he said. unfortunately for him, you also already noticed the hardon pressed against your back.
TOJI FUSHIGURO gets hard from eating pussy. simple as that. he will get embarrassingly sloppy—juices coating his face and dripping down his chin, loving every second of it while his cock slowly grows harder. emphasis on grows. and if you think for a second that he does it for your pleasure, think again. this man will eat you out purely for his enjoyment only. his eyes are closed and his hands are squeezing at your thighs—legs thrashing uncontrollably from the uncomfortable pressure in his pants that’s about to come undone. “toji- let me help you.” you’d beg with a whimper, dragging your hand from the top of his head down to his cheek when you noticed the constant shuffling of his legs and the crease in his eyebrow. he’d laugh darkly, the breathy snicker creating a hum between your core that made a whine escape from your lips. “im fine mama,” he’ll say cockily, pulling a hand away from your leg to undo his zipper. “ill cum soon, you don’t gotta do ‘nun.”
CHOSO is a needy guy. his face will turn red at a simple flirty text—but send him a slutty pic and he might just cream his pants. fully naked or dressed in lingerie, his favorite or not, he will definitely feel some pressure down below. he might ignore you for a while, uncertain on how he should reply; if he’s even able to. “fuck- couldn’t wait till i got home, could you?” he’d whine quietly, trying his best to keep his voice down from the bathroom of his office job; one hand holding the phone up to his ear while the other rushed to unbuckle his belt. “sorry cho,” you’d apologize from the other line, voice rather faint as you posed for another picture to send him. “when are you coming?” you ask doubtfully just as his phone vibrates with another notification from your contact. “now- im comin’ now baby.” he replies with a huff, phone almost slipping from his ear. “really!?” you try to clarify—much more excited than the first time. “no, i mean im cumming. right now.”
#my goofy ahh side coming out with the choso one#THIS TOOK FOREVER#toji x reader#toji smut#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#gojo x reader#gojo smut#geto x reader#geto smut#choso x reader#choso smut#jjk scenarios#jjk x reader#jjk men x reader#jjk smut#isamoa#jujutsu kaisen smut
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ᥫ᭡ thinking about heian era! sukuna having a heavy breeding kink, seemingly out of nowhere.
you bring up a mere idea at dinner, the conversation quickly turning normal, to you bringing up an idea he had never given a second thought to.
"do you ever want kids with me, 'kuna?"
you would ask him, innocently enough, a sickeningly sweet tone hidden beneath your words. but you would already know the answer to this question. he would look up at you, then back down at his food, annoyance pondering his mind. eating a slab of salmon sashimi, he took a bite, chewing slow enough to hint at his potential answer. placing down his chopsticks, he would look back up at you, scoffing to himself at your foolish inquiry.
"those small, annoying humans that require too much attention for their own good? no thank you, i have better things to attend to."
he says, focusing on the meal before him. but his thoughts soon get the best of him. and now that he thinks about it, he will need an heir eventually. and not only that, but what would you be like? as a mother specifically. you would require more attention than most of the time. which was something he secretly enjoyed indulging in, despite his negative reasoning towards infants. how would you look?
you would be more swollen than usual, you stomach would grow larger by day, your breasts will most definitely become more full by the day. the bigger picture, which was you, enticed him in a way. something about seeing you round with his child really had his head going.
and so thats how you ended up here, you knees tightly locked against your stomach, as sukuna absolutely plows into your already stuffed cunt.
this was the seventh time? eighth time? at this point, you couldn't keep track. but he had came wayyyy too many times more than an average man should be able to. it was excruciating, really, the whimpers leaving your mouth, his hands bringing your knees closer to your chest with every move of his hips.
his seed was leaking out of you, glop by glop, dripping down your bottom even more, as he kept going harder and rougher. splashes of your juices paired with his cum stained the bed, the squelching of your pussy becoming deafening with every smack of his heavy balls against the rim of your ass. and the tight grip he had on your locks wasn't helping his case.
"hah, you're gonna give your king his offspring? yeah? r' you gonna be a good little mother f'me? make me an heir?"
he asks, your head barely able to focus on anything other than trying to stay sane. you felt sooo full, but this apparently wasn't enough for sukuna, or his heavy urges to breed your sloppy cunt. you nod eagerly, not wanting him to go any harder than he already has. but with the way he kept abusing your womb, it seemed like you were enjoying it, as sukuna relishes in your facial expression, your eyes rolling back, your mouth hung open wide enough to stuff two of his free fingers in.
"you'd be such a good mother, so obedient too. you wanted to rile me up, didn't you? i'll give you what you want, woman."
moaning into his fingers, you swirl your tongue around his digits, making him hum contently. you try to focus your vision onto his eyes, but the way he pushed his chest further into yours, had you practically cross eyed. hitting a new angle, you felt yourself completely let go, officially adding onto your list of orgasms you had previously had that night.
he released his fingers from your mouth, a coat of your saliva stringing upon release. he ceases to pull out of you, instead letting himself nuzzle nicely into your warmth, releasing yet again inside of you, earning a whine of complaint on your behalf. he playfully slaps your cheek with his wet hand, trailing it down to your pussy, playing in the ring of his semen around his cock. you squirm slightly, as you watch him then bring his cum coated fingers up to your mouth, pushing them back inside your mouth, making you taste his seed, some of his cum pooling around your lips.
"does that taste good? i bet it does, since you seem to love my seed so much. i cant wait to see you so full, besides from right now, of course."
#sukuna#sukuna ryomen#sukuna x reader#heian sukuna#heian era sukuna#heian sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna x Charlotte#heian#heian era#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x Charlotte#jjk smut#sukuna fluff
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