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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

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Steve Harrington x fem!reader 18+ [6K] friends with benefits, but oh no! there's feelings. canon adjacent, kind of? smut, summer, car sex.

You heard the rev of the engine just before the headlights flashed over your bedroom window, casting shadows over your sheets, your own silhouette on the wallpaper. You didn’t need to look to know who it was, the sound of the car idling across your street, waiting.

You did anyway, fingers parting the slats of the blinds as you turned off your television, grabbing a sweater to shove on, feet stuffed into sneakers as the knit fell to just above the hem of your skirt. A few months ago you would’ve rushed to check your reflection in a mirror, sprayed some perfume, dabbed on some gloss, maybe a cherry flavoured balm on your lips. Now, you just grabbed a set of keys from the dish in the hallway before you closed the front door as quietly as you could. You should’ve told your parents, you knew that. Hawkins wasn’t as safe as it used to be, teenagers getting murdered in broad daylight, an Indiana summer scape being used as the scene for some ripped off horror movie plotline.

But sneaking off into the night with a pretty boy was all part and parcel of being young, wasn’t it?

The BMW was parked under a street lamp opposite your driveway and when he saw you making your way down, the boy got out of his car, greeting you at the passenger side with a kiss that he ducked down to give you eagerly before opening the door.

It wasn’t always like that. The terms and conditions of this… situation, used to be a lot more strict. There were rules that came with hooking up with the guy from the video store next door. A casual fuck at a party became accidentally more and long gone were the days that you’d been pressed against a wall by someone who was more man than boy now, stubble scratching across your chin and jaw as you kissed him, tongues tasting like tequila, like cherry vodka and cheap beer.

And you’d had enough sense left in you that night to pull away, gasping, panting, your hands in his hair as his snuck up your shirt, just barely, thumbs pushing nicely into your waist. You’d let your half lidded eyes drag across his pretty features and recognition managed to take over drunken hormones, over want.

“Hey, you’re the guy that works in Family Video, right?”

And he’d nodded, smiling a little lopsided as his gaze stayed on your lips a second too long, loving the way they were glossy and bitten red by him. “Mhmm,” the boy had said. “Steve. You’re the ice cream girl.”

Not much else was said that night, not when the girl from the ice cream shop liked the way the boy from the video store tasted. You liked the way Steve held you, how he pressed you into a dark corner of someone’s house party, his eyes only on you even when there were so many other girls trying to get his attention. He’d walked you home when the sun was coming up, his sports jacket draped over your shoulders, your shoes in your hands. You’d written your number on his hand with an eyeliner pencil, smudged but there.

He’d kissed you again when your neighbours sprinklers turned on, when the birds started singing from the cherry trees out back. It was a soft thing, too soft and too gentle not to mean much but when he pulled back, he squinted at you, looking regretful.

“I, uh, I’m not looking for anything serious right now,” he confessed. Steve looked sad about it. “I don’t wanna lead you on— I just, there’s a lot going on right now, you know?”

You didn’t know, but you understood. So you nodded and shrugged, the boy's jacket moving against your shoulders and you could smell his cologne, the smoke from the party, your own perfume where it now lingered on the collar.

So you said, “that’s okay. Doesn’t have to be serious, if we don’t want it to be. We can just… I don’t know. Hang out.”

Steve grinned that night, pleased, cheeks a little pink, ‘cause you both knew what hanging out meant. So he nodded too, told you to keep his jacket and that he’d get it back later, told you he’d see you soon and maybe he could take you for a drive or something.

Casual, no labels, no expectations. No feelings.

You were pretty certain that was the night you started falling for Steve Harrington.

—————

You took Steve’s offered kiss with your chin tilted up, trying hard not to smile, failing when he held out a hand for you to hold as you ducked into the car. He shut the door for you, crossed the front of the beemer, lit up by the headlights, his white t-shirt hanging loose around his collarbones, threadbare and worn. His hair wasn’t done like he usually didn’t it, the messy strands falling across his forehead instead of pushed back. It made him look softer, like the Steve you’d grown to know past midnight.

It had been months since that party. Months of hooking up on lunch breaks, using the staff room of the ice cream parlour to make out in instead of sharing food, rushing to Steve’s parked car to fool around in the back, letting the windows steam up, a sight too salacious for daylight. You didn’t date, Steve didn’t take you out to dinner, or the movies. You didn’t ask him too. Neither of you had met the other's parents, or friends. You knew a lot about Steve’s life, but you weren’t exactly enveloped in it.

That’s how it was supposed to be. Just sex. Fun.

But then Hawkins fell to scandal, a murderer on the loose, a boy you once knew from school. Weird goings on, strange sounds from the forest, news crews parked on streets, hoping for the latest story. Steve wasn’t around as much and when you did see him, he was with people you didn’t know as well. Nancy Wheeler, a kid called Dustin, Max Mayfield and another boy from the school basketball team.

You’d watch across the street as Steve closed up the video store hours too early with Robin Buckley, rushing to his car with his friends in tow like there was some sort of emergency. So lunch hour sex sessions turned into late night drives, when the rest of the town was asleep and every house you passed was lit up by the street lights, by the aquamarine glow of backyard pools.

Subtle changes happened first. There were still no dates, no talk of feelings. In fact, whatever was stressing Steve seemed to only be fixed by fucking you. He wasn’t rough about it, not mean, nor careless. But there was a different kind of urgency when he parked up somewhere dark and hidden, pushing his lips to yours and sighing hard like he’d been waiting all day to taste you. Eyes closed, forehead pressed to yours as he let you pant into his parted lips, quiet, soft noises mixing with the slap of his hips against yours. And when you were both fully dressed again and he was ready to take you home, he pressed extra kisses to your cheeks, your hand.

He’d stare at you, longer than he used to, eyes filled with something you weren’t able to place yet and the boy would tell you to promise him you’d be safe.

Steve would watch you until you made it inside, he’d do that all the time. But now he was in the habit of only pulling away when he saw your bedroom light flick on, your silhouette waving to him from behind the glass.

After that, Steve took to kissing you more and more, sex not required. A kiss hello, sweet and chaste, a kiss goodbye, longing, meaningful - even if you didn’t know what it was yet. He was touchy, more open, talking to you and opening up when you’d get into his car and see the boy’s tired eyes. He’d tell you it was fine, that it was nothing for you to worry about. But you spotted a bat in the back seat footwell once, an old looking thing with fucking nails poking out the top.

Steve had turned a little ashen when you stared at him, promising you earnestly that it was only for protection. You know, because of everything that was going on. You weren’t sure what made you believe him so easily, but you did. Night time drives turned into make outs broken up with Steve burrowing his face into your neck as you raked your hands through his hair. You’d watch him grow sluggish, words drowsy as he spoke about how the bad guys aren’t always bad, are they? And should we really believe what the cops on TV are telling us? And wouldn’t all of this just be so much easier if people had superpowers?

You weren’t sure what any of it was supposed to mean, but you’d nodded and dotted your lips over his hairline, letting him lean heavy against you until he scrubbed a hand over his face and coaxed you into his lap, telling you softly that he’d feel a lot fucking better if he got to make you fall apart with his fingers.

You let him. And you returned the favour too.

—————

You knew tonight was different by the way Steve was white knuckling the stick shift, antsy as he brought his touch to your bare thigh instead. He rubbed his thumb there, exhaled heavily when you covered his hand with your own.

“Are you okay?” You asked him quietly. You didn’t dare break the quiet, the one that only came with driving out of town when the sky was inky, when the wheat fields whispered in the breeze and the bus stops stood empty. Hawkins was asleep, but there was something that Summer that made the town feel less than peaceful. Maybe it was the ‘wanted’ posters on every street light. Eddie Munson’s face staring back at you. “Steve?”

“Yeah, yeah, m’fine.” He glanced at you, taking his eyes off the road for a second or two. He looked heavy, like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Atlas, the man with the earth on his back, cast in marble, ready to crumble. “Just a little stressed ‘bout stuff, that’s all.”

It was the same answer he always gave. You assumed it was his parents - his dad and his relentless tenacity about his job, his future. Maybe it was Keith, giving him a hard time about shifts. Maybe he had a friend in trouble. You were ready to ask, to pry a little deeper when the boy said:

“You’re not, uh— you don’t get headaches, do you? Like bad ones.”

You squinted at him, confused. You watched the streetlights run over his features, casting the boy in a white-yellow glow before they stopped completely, signalling you’d reached the edge of town. The water tower passed you both by, only fields, the road and stars for company now.

“Um, no more than anyone else who works with sugar loaded ice cream and six year old customers all day,” you joked. “Why?”

Steve didn’t laugh, shit, he didn’t even smile. He looked as serious as before and he ignored your question in favour of asking his own. His hand squeezed at your knee, affectionate, his thumb running circles into the inside of your leg before he had to let go to shift gears. “You don’t have nightmares, do you?”

You were really confused now. You leaned back against the door, watching as empty farm pastures blurred past Steve’s face. His lips were pressed right, concern in every part of his face, drawn in there like it was permanent. He looked tired, scared. Your throat drew tight. “Steve, is something wrong?”

“You’d tell me, right?” Steve was slowing the car down, pulling into an empty gas station lot that sat on an desolate road a few miles out of town. The place hasn’t been used in years, the pumps empty, the shutters on the windows covered in graffiti. But the neon sign above the roof still flickered, bathing you both in red and purple lights. “You’d tell me if something was bothering you? If you felt like…” Steve swallowed harshly searching for the right words. “If you didn’t feel safe?”

You unclipped your belt to lean forward, your hand resting on Steve’s thigh. Your brow was furrowed in concern, a worry knotting in your chest because you’d never seen the boy this serious. “Steve, what?” You watched as the boy exhaled again, a heavy, shaking thing and he looked at you with the most tender eyes. “Hey, hey, Steve, what’s going on? Talk to me.”

Steve swallowed, throat bobbing hardly and his face crumpled, frustration and worry easily read. He was scarlet lights and inky shadows, neon purple bathing the dashboard as rain started to fall on the windscreen. Light drops of it, dotting here and there until it got heavier and heavier, a dull roar against the car roof. Water droplets slid down the windows, racing each other and Steve tried to find the words.

He couldn’t.

“I can’t, I’m sorry, I can’t really explain. Not right now,” Steve dragged a hand through his already messy and he truly did look apologetic. He looked so tired. “Just, please, you’d tell me if something was wrong, right? If you needed help with something, or, or, someone to talk to? You’d come to me, wouldn’t you? You know you can talk to me? About anything? This— this isn’t all sex, I know, fuck, I know it was supposed to be but, shit, we care about each other right? I, I care about you— ”

You nodded, eyes wide, moving as close as could over the middle console, the parking brake digging into your tummy so you could clasp his cheeks between your hands. You soothed your thumbs over the slight stubble there, eyes searching his, wondering if you’d find any answers there. You didn’t. So instead you kept nodding, hoping the boy would believe you.

“I’d tell you, Steve. I’d come to you, it’s okay. I’m fine, yeah? There’s nothing to worry about, not with me, okay?” Your voice was urgent, hushed, a frantic whisper almost drowned out by the rain.

But your words seemed to soothe the boy and he visibly relaxed, face leaning into your touch. “So, no nightmares?” He asked again.

“No nightmares,” you promised him and he turned his face into your palm, kissing the skin there, the way a boyfriend would. It made your stomach flip, an undeniably tender gesture. “Are you okay?”

Steve nodded, eyes closing briefly to gather himself and the lights made the shadows under his lashes turn a deep ruby red. The rain splashed the hood of the car, puddles in the forecourt, purple lights reflecting back like an oil spill. “Yeah. I’m sorry, fuck, it’s just— I wish I could tell you.” Steve let his head fall back onto the seat when you moved your hands. “You must think I’m insane, right?”

You smiled wryly, bringing your feet up to rest on the dash, a move he would’ve told you off - semi jokingly - a few weeks ago for. “No more than I did when I first met you.” Your skirt gathered at your thighs with the move, pooling in the cradle there, cheap silk, lilac and more suited for a trip to the mall rather than a rainy night. But Steve tracked the movement, gaze dropping to the bare skin it uncovered before his eyes found your own again. “And for the record, Harrington, I care about you too.”

It seemed to break something in the boy, those earnest words, real enough to shatter, to make someone crumble in the best way. He punched out the breath he’d been holding and he leant his cheek against the headrest, eyes on you, amazingly soft. “I just wanna keep you safe,” he whispered and the statement made your heart ache.

This wasn’t part of the agreement. This wasn’t even in the rule book.

“I am safe,” you whispered back, brow still wrinkled in confusion. “Is this about Eddie Munson? The police are looking for him, Steve, they’ll find him soon—”

“Somethin’ like that,” Steve tried to smile but it was thin and tight lipped. “I didn’t mean to worry you, m’sorry.”

You smiled, still confused but eager to bring the boy out of his strange mood. You wanted to help, you wanted to comfort. “It’s okay,” you told him, soothing a hand over his thigh again. “You don’t have to worry ‘bout little, old me.”

Something in Steve’s expression told you maybe all he really did was worry about you. But he didn’t say anything more about it, not then. He just slid his hand over your own, let his fingers wrap around your wrist and climb up your forearm, tugging gently. “Hey, c’mere,” he whispered and you knew that look, you knew that tone of voice.

Wanting, needy. Desperation coloured it this time, something new.

He’d normally meet you in the backseat, lips crashing in the middle, a faux argument about who was on top that time. But instead, Steve just coaxed you onto his lap, sliding his chair back from the wheel to make room for you, your legs spread in either side of his hips. He seemed greedy for you, wide palms sneaking under your sweater immediately, the stitch between his brows softening once he got his hands on you.

“Wanna touch you,” the boy sighed and he sounded far away, voice dreamlike now you were closer, like his worries had been eased. “Can I? Wanna make you feel good, think ‘bout it all the time,” he confessed, leaning in until his forehead was pressed to yours, his chin tilted up to meet you, noses bumping.

You nodded, eyes falling shut because all you wanted to do was feel. It was easy with Steve, easy to close off the rest of the world and put all your trust in him. The cocoon of his car felt safe, warm and smelling like leather and his cologne, the hazy light filtering through the rain on the windshield, a kaleidoscope of crimson and violet.

“Yeah, please,” you nodded and your voice sounded so much softer and smaller than before, like you were giving into it, like you were begging him.

Maybe you were.

His hands found the hem of your sweater at the same time yours found his, but you tugged at his cotton shirt with more insistence. You watched his face falter, like he was remembering something. You frowned, fingertips searching under the material for the familiar feel of his warm skin, the trail of hair that led down his navel and into the band of his underwear. Your brow wrinkled deeper when you found something scratchy, a crinkled band that seemed to wrap around him. He flinched when you pressed your palm to it.

“Steve— what—?”

“Babe,” Steve tried to placate you with sweetness, his eyes worried, his hands holding your waist and pulling you closer. “Jus’ leave it on, yeah? It’s—”

“Are you hurt?”

You couldn’t help it, worry and panic taking over and you hated that you didn’t listen to the boy but you were tugging up the hem of his top before he could protest. A bandage was wound around his torso, crisscrossing at his stomach, climbing up to the bottom of his ribs. There was a dark shadow under the right side, like there was a bruise hiding there, or worse.

Suddenly, all the talk of keeping you safe seemed laughable. Your eyes watered at the sight of him, the skin that peeked out from the edges of the wrap a little mottled, an angry red mixing with green and yellow. “What happened?” You sounded distraught and the watery concern Steve that could hear was thick in your throat and it made him fucking ache.

“Nothing,” he tried to lie, but he sounded tired, like all he did was avoid the truth. “I’m okay, I swear. I promise you. I just, I just took a bad fall. Bruised my ribs, caught myself on somethin’ sharp, or whatever, but I’m good.”

You didn’t believe him. Your heart was telling you not to. But Steve Harrington was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and he was too exhausted to argue. You stared at him, saw how he pleaded with you, silent, hopeless.

Your hands found his jaw, thumbs smoothing over the apples of his cheeks and held him like he was precious. He was. So much more than some guy you found in the dark corners of a stranger’s house party. Who would’ve thought?

“Are you in trouble?” Your voice wobbled. You felt helpless. You were trying to tamp down the ugly thoughts in your head, wondering about all the worst case scenarios, thinking about the kinds of people who could do this to someone. You wondered if your dad could help, if he’d give you some cash if that’s what Steve needed, the spare room, a way out— “can I help? What can I do to help?”

“No, no,” Steve answered with a new sense of urgency, eyes wide. “No, listen, you’re staying far away from it all, okay?”

The fact Steve didn’t deny that there was something to fear, that there was something he was caught up in - something he wasn’t telling you - made your worry spike even more. “Steve, what the fuck is go—”

You were cut off by a kiss. A crushing thing, all consuming and it swallowed your words, your worries, your tears. Steve was warm all over, his lips just as hot, soft and plush and always tasting like mint chapstick. He chased your mouth as you went to pull away, an argument still on your tongue but he kissed you until you turned pliant, hands falling from where they’d been planted on his chest to winding around his neck. You made a soft noise of defeat when his tongue licked over the seam of your lips, your mouth opening for him, the kiss turning deeper. You took in the sound of Steve’s shaky gasps, the way his hands mapped out the curve of your back, the dip of your waist.

Steve kissed you until you both couldn’t breathe.

You pulled away panting, eyes heavier and half lidded than before and Steve’s were no better. He was trying to coax you back, his fingers on your chin but you were reminded about what lay under his shirt and your features were crumpling with concern again.

“M’gonna hurt you, I’m too heavy,” you whispered, aghast, shifting onto your knees awkwardly as if you suddenly just realised you were sitting on his lap. “Steve.”

“No, hey,” Steve protested, squeezing at your waist until you sat back on his lap. He whispered your name, serious. “You’re not hurting— Jesus, stay please? I’m fine, okay? Please. Babe, please, just…” he looked up at you, words trailing off and lingering in the small space that was between you both, floating in the red-purple light.

It was still raining.

“What do you need?” You asked him and you tried not to let your eyes turn glassy but the boy underneath you was gazing at you like you were the first one to ask him such a question in years. “What can I do to help, Steve, huh? I’ll do it, okay?”

“Need you,” Steve managed to choke out and he looked lost, he looked desperate but his eyes were hungry and falling to your lips and god, god, his hands were trailing up the sides of your ribs and he was groaning softly when he found you’d left your bra at home. “I swear to god, I promise, I just need you.”

It made it easy to fall into him, lips pressed to his as you tried to hold yourself off of the boy, just slightly, enough to hopefully not cause the boy any pain. But Steve was having none of it, sighing against your mouth and tugging you forward, his hands gripping your hips, sliding underneath your sweater and along the waistband of your skirt. He groaned, a sound you knew well, his lips chasing yours as he kept you pressed down in his lap, the cotton of your underwear pushed to the denim of his jeans. You kissed him back, pliant before turning eager, your hands clutching at his shoulders as you resisted the urge to roll your hips over him.

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” you whispered again and you sounded scared, worried. “Steve.”

“Shhh,” Steve soothed you with a hand on your jaw, tugging you back, keeping you grounded against his. His thumb was pushing to your cheek, trailing down to catch over your lip, his mouth ghosting over yours. Your noses knocked, breaths mixing. “S’okay, m’fine, yeah? You’re fine, babe.”

Steve watched through hooded eyes as he coaxed you into moving, a gentle back and forth of your hips over his and he smiled, nodding when you let out a soft noise, forehead falling to rest against his own. “There you go, there she is,” Steve whispered and it felt fond, it felt familiar, the way he spoke, the way he held you.

It didn’t feel like something friends did, not even friends with certain benefits. Not anymore. Not with the way he was looking at you.

“I just need to, fuck,” Steve let his head fall back onto the chair, chin tilted up to watch your face, the scrunch of your nose when something made you feel good. He was blue in the shadows, navy, inky. Scarlet skin, red cheeks, purple lights making him ultraviolet. “I just need to feel you, I’ve not stopped thinkin’ about it all day, I swear. Is that crazy?”

You shook your head, lips parting as you let out a heavy breath, the kick up of Steve’s cock in his jeans hitting your clit just right. You kept rolling your hips, slow, even strokes over him. “No, s’not crazy,” you let out a quiet whine, chasing Steve’s touch as he gripped your hips a little tighter. “Think ‘bout you too.”

“Just wanna— wanna switch off sometimes, you know?” Steve groaned when you reached for the button of his jeans, wrapping an around your waist as he lifted his hips and helped you tug the denim down one handed. “Bein’ with you, it helps. It helps so much. I just wanna get lost in you— baby—”

Steve cut himself off with a groan, eyes clenched shut and the term of endearment falling from his lips too easily. You’d ached as he spoke, staring at his soft eyes, the tiredness around them, busying yourself with freeing his cock from from his boxers until you knelt up a little and pulled your own underwear to the side.

You were already wet from his kisses, the way he’d helped your rock your hips over his, but god. God, Steve was a stretch. The boy would normally work at you before hand, legs spread for him in the backseat so he could fit two fingers inside, his tongue and mouth helping ease you, melt you. Then he’d give you inch by inch, jaw unhinged and eyes dark as he talked you through it, telling you how good you were at taking his cock.

Desperation won over this time, though. It took a little squirming, a wriggle of your hips and a sharp gasp until he was fully seated inside of you and there was always a dull burn as you did. It was worth it though, to feel so suddenly full, to watch the way Steve’s brain seemed to glitch at the feeling of you wrapped so tightly around him. He moaned, brows scrunched together as he pressed his fingertips into your hips so hard you were sure he’d leave a lavender coloured map of touches behind.

“Shit, shit,” the boy gasped out and he clung to you as you did him, pulling you into his chest so he could wrap both arms around you, big hands spanning across you back. “Baby, fuck, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

You felt breathless at the sensation, stuffed full, your nose pressed to Steve’s neck as he surrounded you, as he held you. You shifted, just slightly, adjusting as he throbbed inside of your cunt and Steve hissed sharply through his teeth.

“You’re gonna make me fuckin’ come, ohmygod.”

You laughed, softly, not at all mean and pressed a kiss to his cheek, nuzzling closer as you stayed still, just for a minute. “Easy, cowboy,” you murmured. Steve’s hands moved to your ass cheeks, grabbing them, kneading them. “You okay?”

He nodded and you pulled back enough to see the way his cheeks flushed pink, lips parted and eyes flutter closed. The boy sucked in a breath. “Yeah. Yeah, you just feel so fucking good. You’re so warm,” he marvelled.

It was getting harder and harder to stay still, your cunt clenching around Steve’s cock, making you both gasp, soft noises falling from each of your mouths and it was anyone other than Steve, you would’ve seen embarrassed at the wetness gathering at the base of his cock, coating the insides of your thighs. “Can I move?” You asked him, whispering.

Steve nodded, too blissed out already, his pretty brown eyes getting that far away look to them. Hazy, fuzzy, dreamlike. He seemed less tired now, less stressed, less tense. So you lifted yourself up gently before settling back down on him, the tip of his cock nudging deep inside of you and it made you cry out, a strangled sound that Steve stole with a kiss. He kissed you through it all, hands everywhere at once, roaming over you, sneaking under skirts and sweaters to slide over your bare skin, like he was making sure you were real.

There was a neediness to it all that surpassed hormones and urges.

So you let him, kissed him back with just as much fervour as you rode him, hips moving slow and gentle, the pressure building between you both, filling the air in the car, filling the cracks between your ribs and it made you spin, it made you dizzy. You kissed Steve until he didn’t look so blue anymore, and when you pulled back, letting him mourn at your neck, your jaw, your chin, the rain had stopped and the purple light above the gas station was flickering.

“Steve,” you sighed, your voice cracking, watery.

“I know,” the boy mumbled back and he sounded the same.

You were staring into his eyes when you came. One hand pressed between your sticky thighs as you pushed mean fingers to your clit, the other in Steve’s hair, holding him to you, anchoring yourself. Steve swore as he felt you tighten around him, pussy fluttering as you came, movements turning a little messy and unbalanced but the boy gripped you under the ass and helped you move through it all, fingernails leaving crescent moon marks on your skin.

“M’close,” Steve groaned, pressing his face into the crook of your neck and you could feel the heat from his cheeks, the softness of his hair against your throat. “Fuck, babe, I’m so goddamn close, where—?”

You doubled down on your efforts despite your shaky thighs, despite how sensitive you were. You rocked over him, pace quickening, wanting nothing more than to make Steve fall apart. You heard him gasp, lips parting against your neck, heavy breaths falling over your skin. You held him to you, let him bury himself there, helped him hide until he could piece himself back together again.

“Inside,” you told him and your voice didn’t sound like yours anymore. You sounded wrecked, wild, desperate. It’s not something you and Steve did often, in fact, you’d only done it once before and you’d both been too tipsy to really remember it. But you were on the pill and Steve trusted you as much as you trusted him. “Wanna feel it, Steve, please, inside—”

“Oh, fuck!” Steve gasped as he came, hips bucking up into you with a little less rhythm than before and he abandoned his grip on your ass to wrap his arms around you again, pulling you in, crushing you to his chest. He held you, pumping you full, cock twitching as he cried out, the sound muffled against your cheek. He whispered your name, a prayer. “Fuck, fuck. Baby.”

You could feel how hard his heart was beating, your cheek pressed to his chest as the rain started back up, heavy drops on the car roof, more lines trailing down the steamed up windows. You could hear Steve’s soft pants in between, his breath huffing over your hairline. You felt the boy skin his lips over the same spot, his nose pressed to your forehead.

“You okay?” He whispered and you nodded, pulling back enough to look at him.

He looked so much softer than before, the harsh lines gone, tension released. Steve ran a hand over your cheek and you leaned into it, kissing his palm. “I should be asking you that.” You brushed a gentle hand over his side, where you knew his bruise lay under his shirt. “Did I hurt you?”

“Quite the opposite,” Steve laughed, soft, quiet. The rain was growing louder, heavier. He was still inside you, heavy, warm, big. It was a comfort you didn’t want to read too much into. “Feel cured,” he joked.

You huffed out a breath of a laugh, smiling, cheeks warm and you winced as you shifted up on your knees and Steve made a soft noise, cooing at you as he held your waist and helped you move. You bit your lip as you moved your stretched out underwear back into place, your body burned at the feel of Steve’s come slipping from between your folds, warm, wet.

“I don’t even have anything to help clean you up,” Steve murmured apologetically, but he would’ve been lying if the idea of you going home full of him didn’t make his dick twitch again.

“S’okay,” you told him and when you made to move off Steve’s lap, the boy gripped your thighs.

You looked at him, brows raised, because this was normally the part of the night where you fell back into the passenger seat, satisfied and a little numb, laughing over a stupid joke Steve cracked before he drove you home and kissed you goodnight. “Stay,” he asked, whispering. You watched him swallow roughly, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Can you just—? Stay here for a bit, yeah?”

You softened, eyebrows scrunching as you took on the emotion on Steve’s face, the shyness there, the hope. You nodded, settling gently back onto Steve’s lap and you reached out, smoothing his hair away from his forehead, using the gesture as an excuse to let your fingers trail over his cheekbone. Steve turned, catching your knuckles with his lips, a fleeting kiss.

Then he sucked in a breath and seemed to ready himself, his hands on your hips again, sneaking under the fabric of your sweater so he could rub circles into your skin with his thumbs.

“So, it all started with this girl…”

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dadsbongos · 1 month

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cycle & jerk

5k words / warnings - pinv sex (unprotected, creampies), breeding kink, light choking, hair pulling, chilchuck's a mean dirty old man, heat cycle, i haven't written in awhile so like. idk don't execute me if this isn't a slay

summary - you are a rat-half foot-hybrid mix, king of the junjile but still social and fierce, and you go into heat and chilchuck can smell it (ew) and he's the only one that can help

~~~

Huffy panting causes Chilchuck to stir in his bedroll. A whine muffled into thin fluff, then the gentle drag of scratchy blankets catching on clothes as a lump grows more apparent beside him. Shyly, a hand wanders from clutching his arm to petting down his chest -- pausing at his belt and scrunching his shirt with a hearty groan. He watches quietly, heart thumping into his chest because he’s just not sure how to breach this.

Stupidly he’d assumed he still had more time. Looking back, he’s genuinely unsure as to why he ever thought that. The signs were there that tonight was his culling, weren’t they? He should’ve been more prepared.

four days prior.

Despite only servicing a single party in your entire adventuring career (and only wanting the one), you have a very strict set of dates in which you’re unavailable for work. Yet this month, regardless of his numerous efforts, your party leader has kept you in the dungeon past expiration.

“I told you I needed out of here before today, didn’t I?”

“You did…”

“And where am I?”

“Still here…”

To his credit, Laios appears earnestly ashamed -- hands folded in his lap and head bent to avoid looking you in the eye. He murmurs soft apologies, even as your attention is called across the room by Marcille.

“Take it easy,” she coos, which only infuriates you further, “What’s so important that you have to be so mad, anyway?”

“It’s basic decency,” you throw an arm out at your side, gesturing to your fellow half-foot on the right, “Chilchuck, back me up!”

“She’s right,” Chilchuck shrugs, “Although it sounds unfair to put all the blame on Laios.”

“I can’t leave before we’re done here,” you grumble, swiveling to face him fully (Laios sighs in gratitude that your wrath has been directed elsewhere), “I don’t get paid upfront, you know?”

“Huh, wonder if there was some way you could’ve fixed that.”

“I only work with Laios, why would I need to join a union?”

“Scab,” he coughs, far more teasing than of genuine frustration.

“Maybe we could help get you back to the surface if you told us what the problem was!” Marcille rolls around onto her hands, eyes wide in curiosity, “C’mon, share! Light a fire under us!”

“It’s embarrassing,” you scooch closer to Chilchuck before sagging against the wall, joining him on the ground. You fail to notice when he flinches at your proximity, “My business is my own.”

“Best leave it alone,” Senshi agrees, “We’ll just have to stay outta your way ‘til we’re done here.”

“Well, don’t avoid me,” you continue to scoff, watching as Izutsumi rustles along Chilchuck’s lap just to bat at your rounded ears with both paws, “Izutsumi, don’t touch those.”

She hisses quietly, only diverting her attention so far as your tail sandwiched between yours and Chilchuck’s thighs. You allow her to malleate the flesh, only because she makes no off-hand comments about how strangely cool the skin is (just the memory makes you glare over at Laios again, who cowardly shrinks back).

“You’re irritable today,” Chilchuck glances at you warily, tone equally cautious.

“And?”

His back slides down the wall until he’s nestled fully into his bedroll and turned away from you onto his side, “Nothing.”

Izutsumi hums quietly, head plopping into your lap, you two exchange confused glances before collectively deciding to let his sudden retirement go.

Since that night, Chilchuck has been avoiding you. You’re certain.

Initially, you’d attempted to rationalize it as a sense of hysteria, that you were simply hyper aware of his presence after the incident shared with Izutsumi. Until more incidents began compiling atop each other, and you were unable to pass them as individual misunderstandings.

Such as that next morning.

“Oh, you getting water?” Chilchuck rose from his slump against the far wall, gaze honed on Laios.

Your leader nods before thumbing towards you, “Yep. Found a small fountain across the hall. Wanna come?”

Chilchuck looks at you, blinking stupidly, before shaking his head, “I’ll probably wait until we set camp again.”

Then there was lunchtime.

“You’re so far away…” Marcille whines, stretching her arm out as if to manhandle Chilchuck back towards the rest of your party.

“There’s no room over there.”

Everyone stares at him for that, Izutsumi curling into your side protectively while Laios points down at the gaping space between you and Senshi with his plate. He grins, full of heart and goodwill, “There’s room right there, Chil’.”

“Oh,” Chilchuck’s shoulders slack, body unenthusiastically scooting across the floor until he’s awkwardly inserted beside you. Noticeably closer to Senshi than you, chuckling distantly and gazing solely into his food, “Duh. Didn’t notice that.”

Izutsumi smacks her lips in a rush to swallow her bite before contradicting, “You were staring at that spot for five minutes.”

“Thought you were gonna take it,” he recovers quickly, then promptly shutting his mouth the rest of lunch.

And the next day.

Anytime you spoke, he’d find an exit from the conversation. He’d conveniently need to speak with Laios, or Marcille, or Izutsumi, or Senshi whenever you approached. Not to mention how glaringly obvious the physical space between you was, whereas he usually traveled towards the middle of the pack with you he’s now suddenly braving the front alongside Laios.

Each effort on your part to shut down tension was swiftly dodged, only managing to thicken the strain between you.

Until that night:

“I’m heading for the bathroom,” Chilchuck rises from his bedroll with a yawn.

“Want me to go with?” Laios offers.

“No,” but his kindness is wasted on Chilchuck, who grimaces at the thought of pissing with a silently listening Laios.

Laios frowns over at you, “But it’s dark out there, I would’ve kept him safe.”

“He’ll live,” you retort, frustration with the lockpick boiling over into an eye roll.

You feel a lithe finger dig into your thigh, finding Marcille turned onto her tummy in her blanket, “You could go confront him now. He’ll have no excuses with nobody else around.”

Figures someone as invasive as Marcille is so invested in yours and Chilchuck’s recent friction.

“Yeah, I’ll just go up behind him while he’s peeing. Great idea.”

“Scare him into submission,” Izutsumi adds, though betraying you by selfishly occupying Chilchuck’s mat across the room. She snuggles into the warmth he’s left behind, yawning loudly -- looking about three seconds from drifting into slumber.

“There’s ale stocks along the way,” Senshi now joins the conversation, and is arguably the most helpful, “Some of ‘em bound to be full. He won’t turn down a drink.”

“Huh,” you tease the idea further. Even if by some uncharacteristic possession, Chilchuck does refuse the offer of alcohol, you can always beat him with the bottle. Knock him out to tie down and force out answers once he’s awake, “That could work…”

You replay that very thought process in your head as you await for Chilchuck to wander back down the hall. You passed as far as the corridor after the ale shelves before realizing how strange lingering outside the bathroom is, then deciding to sit with your back to the wall. Not long now, Chilchuck will be right in front of you.

He won’t jump back in shock, either. He’s heard you walking, you know he did because you heard him pause, sigh, and continue at a much, much slower pace. You’d almost be swooning over how he could discern it was you by your walk, if only there wasn’t such a vexing reason for you to be out here.

At least you have the advantage, your superior rodent vision can make him out in the pitch dark, meanwhile he’s relying on estimation as to where you are. If you wanted, you could probably just throw the ale at his head and get the knocking-him-unconscious bit over with.

“Okay,” he sighs again, louder, arms folded across his chest, “What?”

“Me what? How about you what?”

Chilchuck leans his head away from you, as if he can’t so much as stand to look at you, “What’re you talking about?”

“Just sit,” when he makes no such move, you lift one bottle in your hand, swirling the dark liquid inside, “I brought a bribe just to be nice, don’t let it go to waste.”

“Where’d you get that?” his curiosity blocks out his better instinct, sitting at your side to snatch up the bottle. You can see the instant he regrets it -- his nose wrinkles up and he swallows harshly, “Okay, what do you want?”

You ‘hpmh’ at his testy tone, letting him stew in the unpleasant silence before he’s uncorking the bottle and taking his first gulp. His nonchalance is more irritating than his avoidance; now he wants to insist you’re the weird one when he was dodging you as some toxic, erratic creature. Rage spurs you to your feet, swinging around to stand directly in front of him.

“You’re avoiding me, I know you are!” in retrospect, you will be glad you’re so far from the party so you two can yell without disturbing them.

“I am not!”

“Stop being defensive, just tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it!”

“I can’t,” Chilchuck grinds the heels of his palms into his eyes, face blooming red. That tangy aroma usually hidden until it was right under his nose, flooding his mouth. It was now overpowering your usual scent, and he assumes the only reason you’re so oblivious is because your own advanced smelling has grown blind to it, “It’s nothing you can fix. I’m just cursed with heightened senses.”

“Huh?”

“Huh?!” you stumble back, arms curling around your stomach, “No way! You can…”

Oh, God.

“Yep.”

Oh, God, no.

“Gross!”

Chilchuck shrugs, tilting the ale against his lips and murmuring into tinted glass, “Usually it's only the bloody part we can pick up on, but uh,” he sips the bitter liquid, clearly hesitant to finish his thought until your curious hum encourages him, “I guess beastkin are more… potent…”

“Ew!”

“I didn’t want to finish saying it!”

“But you did,” you gag, “You’re a pervert, phrasing it all nasty like that.”

“What? Would you rather me say it how Laios would?”

“Don’t even joke about that,” you go rigid suddenly, heart seizing at the mention of Laios, “He can’t find out about this.”

“Agreed, it’d be disgusting to hear him ask all those personal questions.”

“So,” you emphasize, clasping your hands nervously, “I need to get it taken care of before I become a problem.”

Chilchuck freezes. Eyes drifting slowly from his bottle to your pinched face, “No.”

“What?”

“No. Ask Senshi or Marcille -- hell! Knock out two problems in one swoop and have Laios help! He’ll leave you alone for the rest of your life if he can get all his questions out now.”

“I wasn’t saying that,” you totally were, and you should’ve known better due to his aversion to interpersonal party-relationships, “Just, I dunno, keep me away from the others.”

“Why me?” he groans.

“You’re the only one who knows…”

“What about Izutsumi? Can’t she be your guard?”

“No! I wanna preserve my positive image in her mind as long as I can.”

Chilchuck scowls, polishing off the bottle with a loud gulp and rolling the neck between his hands, “Guess this is why we never saw you around this time.”

“Uh-huh…”

“And you’re gonna be miserable down here until it's over.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And it’ll only be worse once you actually go into heat.”

“I know, Chilchuck, I’m thirty -- I know how my own heats work.”

You watch confirmed and suspected information sink in for him: Chilchuck was surprised to meet you upon joining the party, as far as he’d heard from whispered tales beastmen looked human most of their lives. Yet you’ve got large, circular ears with a light layer of fur, a pudgy button nose that twitches, and a fleshy tail unfurling to your ankles. You store fat easier than any other half-foot he’s ever met, your legs are stronger and faster than any other half-foot, too.

As terrible as it sounds out of context, your body fascinates him. Not to liken himself to Laios, but well… Ideally this could be his perfect excuse to fully explore, he could have so many questions answered.

Are there humanoid ears hidden behind your hair? Does the peach fuzz on your tail match what courses over your thighs and arms? Has the strength of a rat’s jaw proportionally stretched to your own, like with your legs? Is your whole body warm like a humanoid or cool like your tail? Do you only leave every other month because your rat heat is worse than your human ovulation?

Would having sex with you be like with any other half-foot, or would you be a completely new experience?

Have your strange circumstances forced you into a romantic stasis, making you vulnerable and sensitive to his experienced hands?

If he refuses you now, would you take the bait and ask Laios for help instead?

“Laios seriously doesn’t know about this? At all?”

“I’m sure he knows menstruation exists,” and by proxy ovulation, “but no, I haven’t mentioned my heat.”

“I would’ve thought he’d constantly ask about your… anatomy…”

“Honestly, I think it’s why he approached me to join his party, but I told him off after the first weird question,” you laugh quietly at the memory, “Funny enough, he didn’t seem weird. Most men that approached me were dogs, so meeting him was a relief. Never wanted to work for someone else after our first dive together.”

Chilchuck nods slowly, smoothing the pad of his thumb across the emptied bottle and staring into his dark, murky reflection, “You’ve been in the party longest. You gotta be fond of the guy by now.”

No, he corrects, judging by how you phrased it -- you’ve always been fond of him.

“I guess…” you shrug, “but I’m not fond fond,” you cross your arms defensively, humiliated chills racing up your arms at his unspoken rejection, “I could be, if you’re so adverse. It doesn’t have to be you, Chilchuck. Sorry for asking something so intimate.”

Chilchuck lays the bottle down, shaking his head as he stands, “Don’t ask that dolt. I’ll help.”

“Really?”

More questions infiltrate his mind, unwelcomed as they are interesting.

Do you squeal or huff when you cum? Are you the type to leave scratches? Do you bite (and thus, back to the jaw strength thing)? Would you let him yank your hair? Your tail? Both?

“Thanks, Chilchuck,” you feel the inexplicable need to whisper your appreciation, as if raising your voice could somehow rouse his testy attitude and result in backtracking.

“You should call me Chil.”

“Huh?”

“It’d be awkward to hear my whole name during sex. That’s about as close as people can get, right?”

“Oh!” you’re taken aback. You thought he was against that, though clearly…

His face is flushed (however his decisive speech and sturdy stance negate any intoxication allegations), and you can almost make out the thump of his heartbeat in the filling silence. Or maybe that part is your imagination. Maybe you’re hoping his heart is racing as fast as yours.

“When would be best?” he clears his throat, pulling at the collar of his shirt as though it's choking him, “Now?”

“No!” you cry, mostly out of shock he’s that willing, “No, it wouldn’t do anything now since I’m not… you know. Yet. We’ll have to wait.”

“How long?”

“Not sure. This is why I like to be at home during.”

“I get it,” he runs a hand down the length of his face, hissing quietly in exasperation, “I hate playing these things by ear.”

“‘These things’?” you chuckle as Chilchuck’s face goes red at the implication, he storms past you praying you drop his slip-up, “You do this kind of thing often?”

“Shut up.”

“So, you’re just the guy to go to, then! I should come to you every other month!”

“Shut up!”

…

“Glad to see you two made up,” Marcille’s cheery tone is the first to rake through the room next morning, “Though…”

You’re practically draped over Chilchuck’s back, already feeling your body temperature climbing unnaturally. He’s patting your sweltering cheek sympathetically, allowing you to burrow your face into the bend of his neck. And you’re pressing your chest obnoxiously into his back.

“You’re a bit close,” she teases in a quiet giggle.

Chilchuck rolls his eyes, biting back any replies to avoid unintentionally spilling your secret.

He turns, lips brushing your temple as he whispers to you, “How’re you doing? I could probably lie to Laios and- “

“No,” you whine, embarrassment evident in how you curl your arms tighter around his waist and shuffle closer, “I can’t right now, that’s so… weird.”

“Sure, that would be weird.”

That night, both you and Chilchuck jammed into an off-room from the rest of your party. You two having made the escape after everyone else fell asleep to avoid questions about why you were separating yourselves.

He chooses not to comment on how you strip down to only your panties before falling asleep.

…

While he’s internally debating the ethics of chickening out on his promise to you, you’re suffering. Bad.

Sweat clings along the back of your neck and all down your molten face. Worse than that heat, is the one between your thighs. You’ve been duly rubbing at yourself through your panties for the better half of eternity, earnestly hoping to deal with this yourself rather than following through with using Chilchuck. That in itself is proof you’re barely in your right mind, masturbating has never worked before -- obviously it won’t now.

All it succeeds in is making you wetter and messier.

A little physical stimulation, you reason, can’t be bad. So you faintly trail a hand over Chilchuck’s soft stomach, pausing before his crotch and feeling your chest pound at the thought:

Below his navel is his penis.

Then there’s the next thought:

His penis should be inside you.

You moan quietly, eyes clenched shut and cheek smushing into your bedroll. Were you not preoccupied with the broiling in your stomach, you’d probably be feeling the ache in your knees holding up your weight. Your back arched and rear presented for mounting.

Just as you’re delirious enough with desperation to shake Chilchuck awake, he’s turning onto his side and carding stray hairs from your damp face. Fire licks up his fingertips and he frowns, “You’re warm.”

“Chil,” relief fills you at his voice, something else filling the seat of your underwear. The hand on his tummy winds up to the collar of his shirt, you fumble with the top button, “Chil, can you- ? Please, I feel so fucking hot, Chil. I need you.”

Chilchuck casts the others a brief glance through the door before pushing up onto his elbows, one hand joining yours between your legs. He swallows harshly at the warmth, slithering beneath the waistband of your panties to skim his fingertips directly along your pussy. You push back into his hand with a mewl, near the point of gasping for breath at the new sensation of a man’s fingers pressing inside you.

“Slipped right in,” he muses, tilting his head to be level with yours, “So wet and ready, you should’ve woken me up before. Could’ve saved you the embarrassment.”

Anything impactful like words and vowels is slurred as you rock into Chilchuck’s hand, bottom lip tugged between your teeth. The pads of his fingers dive towards the pouch of your stomach, curling in search of one specific spot.

You gasp sharply and buck back, unabashedly and with no care if it catches bleary eyes from the other room, making him sure he’s found it. His other hand juts out to press up on your tummy, only aiding the pressure of his fingers inside you.

“Not- uh! - not gonna finish like this, Chil,” you whine pathetically, batting your lashes at him wetly.

“Who said anything about that?” he slips his fingers out of you, then swishing the soaked digits around your clit just to hear you try, and fail, to muffle a squeal into your pillow, “Finish: like it's a job. I’m trying to watch you squirm like the bitch in heat you are.”

You hadn’t assumed he was the type, given his opposition to being personal. His consistent, almost annoyingly thorough, separation of business and pleasure. This (apparently incorrect) observation stems from how you also hadn’t assumed he was the type to be curious about you.

Chilchuck teases your slit to watch if you'll try smothering more moans by biting your mat. He inches his face to yours, listening for pinched curses and wails. Eyes trail down your face to your chest, studying the way it pillows against the bedroll. He feels every part the creep he accused Laios of being.

“You're so sensitive,” he notes, shuffling onto his knees behind you, shoving his pants midway down his thighs, “What? Not used to this?”

You swat at him in protest, though still humping pathetically. Every twitch and moan is based on pure instinct, you’ve got no clue how to intentionally be sexy -- you’re just praying Chilchuck is too hypnotized by your cunt for your inexperience to be glaringly obvious. Between work and the fetishizing of both your race and curse, a partner has been hard to find: making you a rare half-foot approaching your golden years as a virgin.

Chilchuck lubes the head of his cock with your syrupy wetness before sliding inside, hands playing the fat of your hips. He lets out a low groan, one hand groping from your side up the curve of your ass and along your spine before winding in your hair. His fingers slot around the roots, taking the base of your skull to use as leverage while he fucks you.

He can make out the choked sound of you tempering a moan by sinking your teeth into cushion. You reach back, nails snagging his exposed thigh to anchor him deep inside your wetly clicking cunt. Chilchuck wrangles your back against his chest by your hair, placing his hand over your mouth as a muzzle. Hot breaths fan the soft skin of his palm, skin slapping skin slowly growing louder in a way that should make Chilchuck more careful than it does.

Rather, he speeds up, hand on your hip rounding to circle your sloshed, swollen clit.

“Just shut up and take it,” he grunts, releasing your mouth to seize your throat, until ribbed tissue presses into his palm.

Gagged whimpers and gasps die as sputters in the pit of your chest, Chilchuck biting and sucking your neck to silence his own wanton crowing.

Every glide out of you is met with your violent heat and need sucking him back in. Your head swivels, putty nose rolling against his cheek as you press sloppy kisses along his cheek.

Heeding your frantic, whispered pleas, Chilchuck shifts to return your kisses. Tongue against tongue, hands pulling your bodies into one sticky tangle.

“Gonna let me breed you?” he growls, using his weight over you to suddenly pin you against your bedroll. Your wetness dripping toward the mat, down his wrist, and along his pelvis, “Gonna give me a baby? Make me a daddy?” your ass perks up, tail coiling around his thigh to tether him, he chuckles cruelly down at you, “Yeah, such a good mousy cunt for me. Open and wet, taking my cock.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, gasping aloud now only for Chilchuck’s hand around your neck to return to your face -- two of his fingers depressing your tongue. Even with the obvious attempt to hush you, you call to him. Garbled, braindead slews of pleas for his cum and begging for (somehow) more attention.

“Is this really all your heat, or are you just such a secret slut?” your whine and clenching stir him up, gooey and compliant and bursting at the seams just for you, “Trying to be all cute, asking for help,” his thrusts quicken when you arch back, hand snatching around his at your clit, “If you wanted to be my cumslut, you could’ve fucking said so.”

You bury your face into your makeshift bed, muffling something in the mat, and Chilchuck yanks your head up by your hair,

“What was that, slut?”

Your thighs are quivering, cunt gushing around him, chest pounding erratically with the need for air, “Just want your cum, Chil!”

Chilchuck stills against you, shuddering and cock heavy in your gut as he cums inside you--

Not that you’re finished yet.

“So good!” you sing, welcoming the reprieve and stubbornly tucking Chilchuck deeper inside you despite him being spent. He throws his head back, eyes rolling in his skull as you continue, “Just a bit more, Chil, please, please, please!”

“Desperate whore,” he slumps forward, biting your shoulder before whirring onto his back, “You do the work now, if you’re so fuckin’ greedy.”

“So mean,” you pout, though the complaint doesn’t deter you from sinking onto his cock like this.

“You’re gonna fuck me asleep,” Chilchuck is courteous enough to languidly snap his hips up into yours, “Needy, desperate bitch.”

For as much as he teases you -- he’s on the brink of tears from overstimulation, voice clipped and throat raw with the need to cry.

“Just one more,” you whine, hands scratching back against his chest, “Gimme one more, please?”

“Fuck,” Chilchuck sucks in a sharp breath, icy tears pricking at the corner of his eyes, “Fine.”

An airy giggle flows through your lips, ditzy and hot and eager.

A few aggravated plaps is enough for Chilchuck to be puffing and shaking, your bounces deteriorate into heedy grinding. Chilchuck winds both arms around your midsection to pull your back against his chest, frustrated tears caking his lashes the longer his abused cock cooks inside you.

“C’mon, babe, you can cum for me. You gotta feel good, too, right?” he’s murmuring in your fluffy ear, flicking your clit with his thumb, “No point in this if you don’t feel good, too.”

His words are not what flips you into euphoria, but rather the sensation of his cum trickling from your swollen cunt -- fucked loose from your incessant jerking on him.

You toss your head back, Chilchuck narrowly avoiding a broken nose by swerving to the side. Loudly thunking together, your clamped knees trap his hand between your thighs -- gurgled cries for breath and his name croak from your hanging mouth.

“Good slut,” he lays sloppy, open-mouthed kisses against your neck, fingers slowing to a pause on your clit, “Best cunt for me.”

“Thank you,” you sigh into the open air, voice all soft and sweet.

Chilchuck laughs at the sound, lulling to the side to spoon you, “You’re way nicer like this. Could get used to it.”

“Don’t ruin this,” you yawn, pinching his wrist.

“Whatever, this better be enough to satisfy you,” he pulls the blanket over your conjoined limbs, too drained to pull up his pants and redress you.

“Hey,” you call, met with a soft groan of acknowledgement, “You know I’m not a mouse, right? I’m a rat.”

“Mhm,” he lazily confirms, “Sounds better than ratty cunt, though. So pick your battles.”

The next morning, a hand is shaking you awake. A soft and polite gesture immediately ruined when you realize the hand is much larger than Chilchuck’s. In a panic, your eyes shoot open to see your cheerful party leader.

“Thanks for going in the other room,” is the first thing out of his mouth, and you want to punch him, “I figure you two would want to get sorted out before everyone else wakes up.”

“Laios…”

“Hm?” his hand is still burning a hole through the sheet on your shoulder.

“Stop touching me.”

“Sorry!” he clutches the offending mitt to his chest, then rising to a stand and waving goodbye, “See you in a bit! Try not to take too long, okay? I have a lot of questions.”

“Get out.”

Unbothered by your mortification, Laios gives a thumbs up and creeps out into the room with the rest of your party.

“We should kill him,” Chilchuck husks into your ear.

“We should.”

“So,” Chilchuck cups the pouch of your tummy, squeezing in a way simultaneously strange and affectionate, “‘s this gonna become a problem?”

“Hm? Oh, no, I think I’m infertile.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Rat eggs and human eggs don’t actually mix well.”

“Well, it’s a relief I won’t have to raise another kid, I guess. How terrible would that be? I’d be on my deathbed when it gets married.”

…?

???

“Hey, wait,” you roll over in bed, brows furrowed at the man, “Another?”

He nods sluggishly, judgment clouded by both drowsiness and libido, “Three daughters already, so that’d be my fourth,” he cackles at your shocked face, “What? Sex with a coworker you don’t know isn’t panning how you thought?”

“Oh, shut up. I know you, just not your family. Totally different.”

“Definitely. Opposites.”

“So,” Laios swings his head towards Chilchuck, smiling politely, “How many nipples?”

~~~

stupid bonus

“What?” Chilchuck’s eye twitches.

“Sadly, I think it's only two because there’s only two visible mammaries…” the blonde has the gall to sigh at such a thought before suddenly blooming excitement, “Unless there’s more hiding in some kind of wrap! Are there?”

#chilchuck tims x reader #chilchuck x reader #chilchuck smut #chilchuck tims smut #dungeon meshi x reader #dunmeshi x reader #dunmeshi smut

337 notes · View notes

yeuheart · 1 year

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THINGS YOU EXPERIENCE WITH HIM

Notes: Finally got this out 🙏🏻

Meguru Bachira

Matching things is what you experience the most with him. Almost everything in your shared apartment or room is the matching half to his. He never gives up dressing up on Halloween either especially if he can match with you. He definitely chooses the food costumes cause he thinks it’s funny 😭. It’s cute though so it can pass. He takes a whole lot of pictures of you both but you swear he’s never had that “storage is full” notification pop up on his phone. (the 68k photos on his phone 🙏🏻)

Chigiri Hyoma

Playing with his hair or yours is what you experience with him. You’re probably one of the few people he let’s touch his hair, but it does make you feel special. He does ask that you be careful if you’re playing with his hair and he does the same if he’s playing with your hair too. Loves doing your hair if he has the time and doesn’t mind if you do his.

Itoshi Sae

Remembering things about you is what you experience with him. He probably doesn’t care to remember anything but what he deems important about his friends, acquaintances, etc. But to you he remembers the small things even if you don’t remember even saying those yourself. You’ve definitely been surprised with a gift from him with something you like even though u hardly remember mentioning it to him.

Itoshi Rin

Doing yoga together is what you experience with him. Honestly even if you aren’t a yoga person he still tells you that you’re free to join him. You probably pushed him while he was in position. Now he incorporates couples yoga into his routine if he knows that you’re gonna participate. Sometimes if you look over to him you can catch him gazing at you with a soft smile especially if he’s helping you with a position or if you’re taking a break. He’s also cautious of you falling, which makes him kinda strict.

Kunigami Rensuke

Going to the gym together is what you experience with him. Even if you don’t like going to the gym it makes you happy that you get to spend time with him. He offers to help you with reps or your routines. Definitely cautious when you’re there with him cause he doesn’t want you getting hurt, but he’s not strict. Ong like your N1 supporter in and out of the gym.

Mikage Reo

Zipping up your dress/putting your jewelry on for you is what you experience with him. You’ve definitely got lots of gifts from him, especially jewelry/clothes. But the thing is he really likes putting them on you more so you’re jewelry. There’s something so romantic about it that makes him like it. He offers to do it for you if he catches you picking the item of you’re choice. Definitely has gotten you something with his initials on it though.

Nagi Seishiro

Sleeping on each other is what you experience with him. Gosh having a 190cm man on top of you is definitely suffocating idk about you 😭. Honestly one of the most stubborn guys out there and won’t let you get up so he will literally just flop on top of you and fall asleep. But he also likes when you’re sleeping on top of him, you’re like a weighted blanket to him. It’s cute but after a while it gets kinda uncomfortable. The only time when you’re able to get up is probably if he moves in his sleep (he definitely does!)

Oliver Aiku

Couples massage is what you experience with him. I feel like he likes massages especially if it’s from you. He’s always hoping that you’ll let him spend a couple more just for the sauna so he can relax with you there. The sauna is such a relaxing place where he doesn’t have to worry about nothing except you. Really nothing else he’d rather do than that besides soccer. You guys r defo regulars at the place and it’s most definitely the best rated place.

Shidou Ryusei

Pillow fights is what you experience with him. It’s actually really fun but sometimes he takes it a bit too far and accidentally injures you. He does apologize and bandage you up though. He hits so hard tho it hurts so it eventually becomes a competition on who can hit the other the hardest with the pillow. You’ve definitely got the air knocked out of you a few times. Let’s you win sometimes though.

Hiori Yo

Him walking you home is what you experience with him. After school, work, etc he walks you home. He says even though walking is slower than a car he gets to spend more time with you. And he even gets you a drink on the way every time. Really loves when there’s a sunset and he’s walking you home because it sets the whole thing. The talks between you two during that are nice, you’re both mostly focused on each other, and how the presence of the other is relaxing.

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #blue lock headcanons #bachira meguru x reader #blue lock fluff #hiori yo x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #sae itoshi x reader #oliver aiku x reader #mikage reo x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #hyoma chigiri x reader #rin itoshi x reader #rensuke kunigami x reader #bluelock x reader #yoichi isagi x reader #+yeuheart

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insufferablelust · 2 months

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HAVOC!

suguru geto x f!reader smut! heed the warning below 🎀

This fictional work contains smut, slight dumbification, use of pet names such as ‘little one’ ‘little girl’ ‘sweet girl’ and so on, name calling, suguru is a harsh cult leader but soft for reader, use of “i love you” and such, rough sex, oral sex. Enjoy! MINORS DNI! strict harsh rule.

Apologies for typos/grammar errors, english isn’t my first language and i have yet to write in a long time. Thank you for your patience.

🎀Masterlist🎀

Suguru geto knows you like the back of his hand, he knows what makes you tick, what makes you snap, what makes you smile, what makes you crave, what makes you desire for more. He appeared nonchalant, like he cares about nothing, only putting forefront his dream of an all-country of Jujutsu sorcerers. But little does people know, he studied you like he studied all the curses each night, tentatively soft, agonizingly deep, tantalizingly slow, and irrevocably shake your entire being.

He not only consumes you, but he can never get enough of you. Your high is his strength, your pleasure is his passion, your cries are melodies in strings for him. People worshipped him on a daily basis, on their knees, but oh… nothing can top the way he knelt down in front of you each night. Hair up in a bun, eye smile prominent as his slender fingertips stroke your inner thighs gently. His breath against your oh so sensitive skin makes you crazy, his coos drives you feral.

He looks so serene like, dreamlike— but he went havoc inside, his mind scrambled, wired to the highest level of obsession for you. Pleasing you is his only goal. He’d make you beg, say “Please Sugu… t-touch me— ah! deeper” like the evil cult leader he is, but he insistingly craves your undivided mind. Unrelenting heart. Undeniable pleasure above all else.

“Patience my love, didn’t I train you to be an obedient little girl, hm?”

He taunts, shaking his head as he continues his endeavor on your inner thighs. Kissing slowly up your calf, to your thighs, and up, up, up. Your breath hitched, feeling his lips ghosts over the soft surface of your tiny leaking cunt. Back arching ever so slightly as he chuckled deeply, as if he’s enamored by your struggle to stay still.

“Ah ah ah, what did I tell you? stay still or this needy and flushed little cunt won’t get to cum.”

“C-can’t! if you.. oh fuck! if you keep teasing m-me, can’t hold it..” You mewled as tears gather in your eyes, tears he so desperately wanted to taste yet degrade you at the same time. Oh, you look so divinely cute like this. Whimpering, whining, and begging him to do something. Giving him every inch of power, the power to not only your release, but also your ability to even move let alone feel the copious amounts of pleasure.

Geto Suguru might be a vicious cult leader but he is not a man without remorse, he values you, he would die for you, and he would give you the world, and if it’s pleasure you want, he’d give it to you each minute of your life. He shakes his head at you before slapping 4 of his fingers on your clit, causing you to deeply arch your back, and let out a high pitched whine.

“mm— mmh! oh sugu!” You wailed a wanton amount, enough for the whole temple to shake due to the sheer pleasure you’re feeling. The white pain mixing with adrenaline sends you right to the edge of teetering release. “Can’t you please just— Ah! fuck me already!” There it is, your bite brattiness that he oh so dearly loved and hated at the same time.

If only his cock is not straining and peeking through his robe, he would spend the next 7 days with you here, in his holy chambers to teach you lessons on how to be obedient. But alas, he is going to save the taming for later.

Suguru groaned as he manhandled you to your front, propping your stomach with a nearby velvet pillow and making sure your back is perfectly arched whilst your ass is up in the air for him, all exposed and tempting for his lustful eyes, and ravenous appetite.

“You look so good like this, my slutty little goddess. I wonder how those lowlife men would think if they were to find someone they worship to be such a whorish harlot, hm?”

His tone is as teasing as his actions, such filthy words accompanied by your moans as you felt him slowly tapping his hard cock against your weeping cunt. “Tell me, little one. Hm, how would they think?” Finding no answer from your panting figure, he tugs your hair with his other hand and yank backwards.

Your back is so deeply arched, pupils blown, cheeks flushed, and mouth hanging open. Just like he said, a whorish harlot. “I- I am.. yours only, Sugu. Your—mmh… girl! your queen! your… slut.” You whispered the last bit as your eyes drains with tears, lips bitten with desire.

Suguru smiled, before finally relinquishing yours and his agony by sliding his cock inside your tight cunt with a swift thrust, making you both scream and grunts in pleasure. One of his hand on your waist tightens and the one on your hair tugs ever so gently, trying to take away the painful stretch.

Suguru’s length is not one to take easily, his girth is thick and long, slightly curved up top with curated veins running along the side. If you weren’t so cockdrunk you would be sucking the soul out of him right now.

“Fuck— your cunt is so perfect little one, I almost feel —bad ruining you.” His voice is rough and thick with lust. Hair falling from his neat bun as his pace increases. In… Out… In… Out. Steadily drilling into you as your eyes roll onto the back of your skull. Ecstasy clouding you as he mercilessly pound deep, so deep that you feel him bulge on your lower stomach.

“S-sugu! please please!” You don’t know what you pleading for either, he is pounding into you with such vigor, his pace never relenting. Suguru chuckled breathlessly. “What is it, sweet girl? hm? Aren’t I fucking you good?” Just then, his grip on your hair lessen.

Just as you’re about to answer, his hand pushes your face onto the soft mat below, as he continue pounding your now gushing cunt.

“S-so! Oh! good… Sugu!” Your screams are muffled as to your cheeks are pressed against the mat. Your head went to cloud nine as his curved tip hit the gummy spot right inside your warm cunt. “there! r-right there please! please mmh Sugu!” tears are now falling freely down from your face.

Suguru took a brief moment to admire your beauty, looking down as he saw your face all ruined, cheeks flushed, with your puffy bitten lips hung open… drips of saliva coating the mat. Its so sinful, but god does he love it. He loves you so much.

“My dumb little girl, just love getting her needy cunt fucked hm? there sweetheart? yeah feels good doesn’t it?” He up his pace, even if you thought that was impossible. His cock continues to drill inside you with the tip expertly hitting your heavenly spot.

You gasped for air as you can feel your climax reaching when Suguru let go of your hair and went to rub quick eights on your weeping clit. “Oh god! oh i’m gonna cum mmh Sugu!” You’re no longer thinking straight, neither is Suguru as he feels you tighten and tighten, muscles contracting— evidently suffocating his cock in the most pleasant way.

“Don’t you dare cum yet, little one.”

“No no please i need to—“

“No no no little girl, hold it.”

Your whole body shake as he keeps on pounding you from the back, his index finger on your clit is making you so dizzy. So overwhelmed by the need to cum. To just give in. The intense pleasure of his cock inside your wet cunt is just unlike any other.

“I cant.. i cant sugu mmh ah!” Your head trembles as you claw your nails onto the mat, your pussy clenching so tightly, Suguru thought that if his cock were to fall, he’d die a happy man inside you.

“Cum, now. Right now give it to me, baby, cmon” Suguru pistons his hips with slower pace but deeper, sliding himself unbelievably full to your cunt, with a prominent bulge on your lower tummy.

You let out high pitched scream that drifted into thin air as you finally cum. Gushing over and over again as your body trembled and twitch at the sheer intensity of the pleasure.

“mmh fuck! fuck sugu! i l-love you! so much please inside!” You babbled out as you ride out your high, your walls clenching with various rhythms against his cock making him threw his head back, with messy bangs covering his face.

“You want it inside hm? yeah sweet girl? you want it deep so you know who you belong to?” His palm find their way onto your chin before tilting it up gently to look at him, you’re doe glassy eyes staring onto his frantic blown black pupil. You let out a drunken smile in pure ecstasy.

“Yes! yes please just c-cum inside, wanna feel you, wan’ feel all of you..” Your tone is softer but oozes with neediness all the same, wanting that familiar feeling of his warmth inside of you.

“Fuck I love you so fucking much my insatiable little girl.”

and you know the night is far from over, as evident in the morning when the servants come in to deliver breakfast, only to find both their masters snuggled in a place that looked like been wrecked by a havoc.

Written by Insufferablelust on tumblr 2024.

No copying is allowed.

#insufferableblurb #smut #geto suguru smut #geto smut #suguru smut #jjk smut #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #suguru x reader #jjk x reader #deva writes #insufferablelust #jujutsu kaisen smut

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pedrilcvr · 22 days

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Domestic!Pedri Head cannons ۶ৎ

I cannot contain myself. I’m actually about to tweak thinking about these. 😭 Thank you Enny for helping me come up with these smooch smooch. Sorry I got so carried away with these…

feel free to request head canons about anyone !

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, you catch talking to Nilo all the time. Pedri will walk around the house with the little black pup in his arms, pointing things out to him.

“And that’s a picture of me and your uncle Fer.. And that’s my new shoes, those you better not touch.” or he’ll scroll through his camera roll, showing pictures of many different things, mostly pictures he’d taken of you. “Look at her, isn’t she just perfect?” It’s genuinely the most adorable thing in the world.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, after a rough day of practice just wants to lay in between your legs while you thread your fingers through his freshly dried hair. After he adopted Nilo, every time he tries to enjoy your cuddles, the pup will jump and scratch at your legs till Pedri picks him up and lays him on his chest. A small smile takes over your lips at the sight, your boyfriend was just too adorable and so was your new addition.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, likes to cook with you. It had become a common routine for the two of you after you moved in together. Now, with a dog running around the house, you two found yourselves tripping over him often. When you do so, you both erupt into a light of laughter, spewing out apologies and kissing Nilo’s head even though he wasn’t hurt.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, after a long day at practice begs you to wait to shower until he gets home. He always insists that, “it’s saving water.” But you know he just wants an excuse to be close to you, and of course you always agree. You loved the way he peppered your shoulders with soft kisses and the way his hands felt massaging the shampoo into your scalp. Showers with Pedri were when you were your most relaxed, and he felt the same way.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, never leaves you alone. On your days off you like to make meals and snacks for each other instead of going out, knowing Pedri was on a strict diet, it helped save cost anyways. Whenever you are making something, Pedri will sneak up on you, snaking his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. Despite knowing what you were making, he’ll ask anyways, “What’re you making, amor?” He just loved to hear your sweet voice reply.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, always, and I mean always gives you three kisses whenever he’s about to leave or whenever he is grateful or even if he just is passing by. It’s never on the same spot, he kisses your lips, shoulders, cheek, temple, jaw, neck, anywhere. And he’ll rotate them every time. His own little way of saying, “I love you.” without actually saying it, not that he has a problem saying those three words, but he just liked the simplicity and intimacy of kissing you.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, loves to cuddle with you whenever he can. On his days off he likes to sleep in, groaning and complaining any time you try to cut it short to do your morning duties. Once you’re done (after prying yourself from his grip), you climb back into bed, this time spooning him, intertwining your legs together. Pedri loves to feel your soft breaths against his neck, half of the time it will lull him back to sleep.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, paces around the house constantly. Being an athlete, he is used to moving around constantly, which causes him to feel antsy when he’s sitting alone for too long. After coming home from work, you often find him walking around the living room, staring at his phone. He only settles down when he spots you, pulling you in for a welcoming hug.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, doesn’t care much for TV shows, but will watch anything with you as long as you’re cuddling. He tries to pretend he isn’t completely enthralled in whatever you’re watching, but his random outbursts when something stupid happens says all you need to know.

“He did WHAT?” , “Is this a joke?”

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, prefers staying in instead of going out for dates. With him constantly in the public eye, he feels uncomfortable with the invasion of privacy. When he’s having intimate moments with you, he prefers not to have to hide or mellow it down. In the safety of your home, he can kiss you anywhere he pleases without wondering how the media will react. He also just likes to have you all to himself, so being at home gives you all the privacy in the world with no interruptions.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, will do anything for you. If you’re having a bad day, he will pamper you senseless. If you are sick, he will disappear for half an hour and come back with your favorite foods or things to cheer you up. He loves to take care of you. He hates to see you hurting and would do anything to make you feel better.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, is the biggest baby when he’s sick. At first, he’ll act like it doesn’t bother him, but the second you make a concerned face, he’s suddenly so much sicker. He’ll pout and pretend he’s on his death bed till you call out of work to nurse him back to health.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, loves to do anything as long as it’s with you. You want to play board games? He’s already on the way to grab them. You want to go shopping? He’s grabbing the keys. You want to go to the movies? He’s putting on a hoodie. You want to go for a walk? He’s grabbing his sneakers. Anything you want, he will do.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, doesn’t hesitate to clean the dishes after meal times. He’d rather take care of it right away so you don’t have to worry about it later. He’s always on top of things around the house, too. If something needs repaired, he’ll make the calls for you. Your family loves to tease him about how good of a husband he’ll be one day, and you can’t help but agree.

(DT): @halfwayhearted ^_^

#pedri #pedri gonzalez #headcanon #pedri x reader #blurb #football #im ill about this #i love you domestic pedri.#nilo #pedri x you

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missmatchablossom · 4 months

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Gojo x Reader Royalty AU | Part V.

summary: you are a princess in an arranged marriage with the crown prince of the country, satoru gojo. gojo leaves on a trip, leaving you to face your true feelings for him

a.n.: I just wanted to thank everyone who follows this series and takes the time to leave me comments about it! you are the reason I enjoy writing it <3 enjoy the angst + fluff of part 5!

tags: @lysaray @nourhanfarid13 @geniejunn @weirdoaroundtheblock

A soft rain pattered against the windows to Gojo’s bedroom, casting the grand space in a cool gloom that mirrored your own melancholy.

“Do you really have to go?” you asked quietly, wincing as soon as the words left your mouth. You meant to come off as playful, casual even. But you sounded more dejected than anything as you sat atop Gojo’s enormous four-poster bed, watching your prince pack away his clothes.

Though, by the way Gojo paused to shoot you a smile, he didn’t seem to mind.

“Please accept my sincerest apologies, princess. I tried getting out of it, but apparently I’m so important that ghosting them could cause a cold war or something. Stupid, isn’t it?” he said, the corned of his lips upturned.

You rolled your eyes as you chucked one of his pillows at his head, which he caught easily in a fit of laughter. You layed onto the bed in a huff, curling up towards the edge with your back facing the prince.

Am I the only one sad that he’s leaving? you thought, burying your face into the pillow you hugged to your chest. The familiar sweet scent of his shampoo was a welcome distraction from your inner turmoil.

Gojo would be leaving the palace tomorrow morning to embark on a two week-long trip to visit the neighboring countries. He would be meeting with fellow blue bloods, doing important work to strengthen relations before your wedding.

Rationally, you knew two weeks wasn’t a long time. But when you were used to ending your nights cuddled into his side, it felt like eternity. There was an unspoken agreement that Gojo would slip into your room at night, and no matter how late he finished his work, you’d be up waiting for him. He’d outstretch his arm, beckoning you towards him with a smile on his face no matter how tired he was.

Your jolted in surprise as Gojo crouched beside the side of the bed you were on, leveling your eyes with his. He tilted his head slightly as he looked at you, sending your heart into a fury with his proximity.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked softly, reaching out to brush a lock of hair behind your ear. It was a gesture he repeated often, but it nearly coaxed your heart out of your chest each time he did it.

“No,” you began, cheeks burning as you fiddled with the pillowcase. He watched you patiently, all traces of his earlier teasing mood gone.

“I’m just going to miss you.”

You watched as your favorite blue eyes softened before you. He shut his eyes, leaning forward until his face was buried in your side, the cool, delicate skin of his eyelids pressing against your arm.

“Maybe I don’t have to go after all,” he murmured.

You giggled as you slipped your hands into his hair, something you did for him often to help when he had heacaches. He sighed as he leaned into your touch.

“Just come with me,” he said.

Oh, how you wanted to. But your schedule didn’t allow it, since you were undergoing strict “crown princess training,” filling your days with historical and political lessons to match Gojo’s education.

“I tried getting out of it, but apparently I’m so important that skipping training could cause a domestic war. Stupid, right?” you said, reveling in the hearty laugh he released. You heard him mumble something along the lines of such as smartass before he turned his head to the side so that his face was mere inches away from yours.

“Will you pick a few outfits for me to pack? That way, when someone compliments me, which they undoubtedly will,” he said, throwing a quick wink your way, “I can say my princess picked it out for me,” he finished, the faintest dusting of pink decorating his cheeks.

You mirrored his smile, chewing on the inside of your cheek to mask just how giddy his words made you feel.

“Mm, it will cost you,” you said cheekily, loving the way his eyes danced with humor as he shook his head at you. His eyes always seemed the prettiest when he was looking at you.

“You’re a greedy little thing, aren’t you,” he said, laughing to himself as he disappearing into his closet.

“Good thing I came prepared,” he said, coming out with a stack of his hoodies. You threw your head back and laughed as he set them down beside you, raising his brows expectantly.

Gojo knew you loved wearing his hoodies. It wasn’t because you admitted how much you enjoyed the way his cologne clung to the fabric, making it feel like you were being held by him. You didn’t explain how you loved how casually intimate it was, wearing something of his. You weren’t sure what he thought, actually. Just that you must’ve loved them because of how often you asked to borrow one.

“Well? Do we have a deal, princess?” he said, making sure to drawl out his voice as he called you by his favorite nickname. The one that almost made you blush everytime you heard it, especially when he said it the way he just did.

Instead of responding, you slipped one of his oversized hoodies over your body, enjoying the indulgent look in his eye as he watched you.

Gojo leaving for his flight felt like a hazy memory, something that could’ve easily been a dream if you didn’t know better.

You vaguely remembered being awoken by the sound of shuffling and zippers. You lifted your head up, eyes heavy with sleep as you checked the spot beside you. The spot where Gojo usually occupied was empty, nearly sending you into a panic before you found him at the foot of the bed, the sound of a zipper reaching your ears. He turned to look at you, all dressed up in his formal attire. It had to be a crime to look so devastatingly good before the sun was even up.

“Sorry princess, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispered, casting you an apologetic look. You shook your head, too tired you verbally tell him you didn’t mind. It wasn’t his fault that your sleep was already fitful and light, like your body was rejecting a good night’s rest knowing Gojo was leaving.

Gojo padded over to you quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed closest to where you were laying.

Your prince reached out, stroking his hand across the back of your head. You closed your eyes as he cupped your cheek, swiping his thumb against the soft skin.

“Go back to sleep, love. I’ll be back soon.”

You could’ve sworn you felt something soft press against the top of your head before sleep took you, and you woke up to a cold, Gojo-less room.

The hallways seemed dimmer. Food tasted blander. The sky looked duller. Maybe you were imagining things, but you didn’t imagine the sadness that has been nagging you since your prince left. There was no way to prepare yourself for how everything seemed to take more time and effort knowing you couldn’t go to your room at the end of the day and crash into Gojo’s arms, where no stress seemed to exist.

He messaged you as soon as he landed, sending you pictures of himself holding up the sweets he was trying. But the messages lessened as his trip progressed, and the daily news report was eager to tell you why.

You found yourself tuning in to the chanel everyday, watching your prince walk across the screen and shaking hands with a new noble every day. He thrived under the media attention, shooting endless smiles and waves towards everyone itching to catch his gaze. But you knew Gojo, and you recognized the dullness in his eyes. He was definitely tired.

don’t forget to get some rest and eat properly! You texted, sighing. He still hadn’t responded to your texts from before asking if he had time to call.

he’s busy, he’s just busy, you reassured yourself. It was taking all of your mental strength not to worry about him, not to feel disheartened by his lack of contact. He didn’t owe you daily updates…did he? You weren’t married yet.

The impassioned voice of the news reporter ripped you from your thoughts.

“Prince Gojo was spotted sneaking away with another girl! Is a secret love affair going on?”

A sour feeling plagued your chest as an image flashed across the screen. It was an obvious paparazzi shot, taken from odd angles unbeknowst to the subject of the photos. But there was no doubt in your mind that it was Gojo in the photo - you’d recognize his tall frame and proud shoulders anywhere. But his arm was wrapped around the slender shoulders of a girl you didn’t recognize. All you could tell was that she must be someone important or rich or royal by the fabric of her dress, the shine of her hair.

You felt jealousing rearing its ugly head, burning through your body as a wave of nausea hit you.

Who is that girl?

Is he…seeing someone else?

But we’re fiances.

But he didn’t have a choice. He didn’t choose to get engaged to you.

But I thought we had something together?

But you never discussed it.

But he could have been in love with this other girl the whole time and you came between them and ruined it

But….but?

Your bottom lip trembled as you dropped your face into your hands, taking shaky, deep breaths in a failed attempt to stop the thoughts assaulting you.

Maybe you didn’t know Gojo as well as you thought you had.

It was really hard to ignore the palace staff, with the loud glances and whispers you’d been hearing. You weren’t sure if it was pity or concern, but it made you feel miniscule nonetheless. You went about your work with your head held high, meeting their stares with a smile that they quickly looked away from.

As soon as you were alone, your brave face would crumple. There wasn’t much you could bring yourself to do except wander the outskirts of the palace, where you found comfort in being hidden amongst the lush overgrowth. Hidden away from the heavy eyes of the palace, hidden from the tabloids speculating about your failed engagement, hidden from the texts Gojo sent you.

sorry princess, they’re working me to the bone

I’m free to call now if you are

I miss you

princess?

everything okay?

can we talk?

You plopped down at the base of a tree, sighing as you read over the texts you’d received but didn’t respond to for the past two days.

It’s okay, I know you’ve been busy. Don’t forget to eat okay? We can talk when you get back

As soon as you hit send, your phone began buzzing with an incoming call. Gojo’s contact picture popped up on the screen - a picture you took of him laughing and reaching towards the camera. It was your favorite photo of him you’ve ever taken, but right now looking at it filled you with dread.

sorry, I’m pretty busy. I probably won’t be able to talk for a while, you texted, feeling yourself flinch at the lie.

you’re a bad liar, princess

please talk to me

But you couldn’t. How could you talk to him when you were questioning if anything between you two was real, or if it was him just doing his duty? Sure, he treated you well. But he never admitted he had feelings for you. You could’ve been misreading him the entire time.

You knew what you were walking into with your arranged marriage. The most you could ask for was to get along with your fiance, some people were stuck with awful partners. Gojo was never obligated to love you, and it was never something you expected, so why were you hurting so much?

Because I’m in love with Gojo, you finally admitted to yourself.

You slowly sank down against the base of a tree, tipping your head up as the tears rolled down your cheeks. As you came to the realization, your scramble of emotions fought for their spot in the front of your mind. Relief at finally accepting your own feelings. Fear that your love was unrequited.

You sat there for a while, gathering your thoughts as the wind and leaves kept you company.

Once you arrived back at the palace, eyelids swollen and cheeks rosied from the cold, you were approached by one of Gojo’s retainers.

“Pardon me, your highness?” he called out, eyebrows burrowing as he took in your appearance.

“Are you alright?” You shot him a tight smile.

“I’m fine, thank you. Did you need something?” you said, hoping he wouldn’t keep you much longer. The older gentleman narrowed his eyes slightly, and you knew he didn’t believe you. But he didn’t press it.

“I have Prince Gojo on the line, he has been requesting to speak with you.”

Shit.

“Please tell him I’m unavailable,” you asked quietly, bracing yourself for the man to tell you he couldn’t do that.

But the older man looked at you once more, his face relaxing like he could see the exhaustion and stress lining your features.

“Of course, your highness,” he said, tipping his head kindly as you thanked him.

When you got to your room, a tray of your favorite tea and cookies sat on cart next to the door. You swore to give that man a raise when you had the power to.

You had one week until Gojo returned to the palace. One week to figure out how to talk to him again and how to address the photo of him with the mystery woman. One more week for you to chicken out and ignore his texts and calls.

The evening was nearing, and you found yourself once more on the palace outskirts. You leaned your head back against your favorite tree, stretching your legs out to get comfortable. Your eyes burned and your chest felt like lead, but at least you had a beautiful view.

Heaving a deep sigh, you closed your eyes and tried focusing on what you would hear, a grounding exercise you’d been taught recently.

unidentified birds chirping

water flowing

breeze shaking leaves

footsteps

Footsteps? Your eyes shot open. No one ever followed you out here.

“Princess.” a voice began. It was low, haunted even. And painfully familiar.

You turned as you saw Gojo standing before you, dressed to the nines in his navy suit he only wore for official business. His silver locks were disheveled, his face was pale, and he looked uncharacteristically serious. His sweeping gaze felt heavy as it ran over your entire body, as if he were checking you over for an injury.

You blinked up at him, waiting to see if he was an illusion that would disappear the next time you opened your eyes. But he didn’t. He was real, he was here.

“You’re back early,” you stated, offering a small, close-lipped smile. You couldn’t bear to look him in the eye, though.

The harsh sound of his bag hitting the ground surprised you. He reached up towards his neck, roughly loosening the tie you knew he hated wearing.

“I had a more pressing matter to attend to,” he said, and you flinched at the cold lacing his tone.

“Rushing through a trip like that could be bad for international relations,” you commented evenly, not addressing the second half of what he said.

“I could care less about international relations when my wife has been ignoring me for the past week,” he said sharply, running his hand through his hair.

“I’m not your wife,” you said softly, knowing it was a low-blow. He sucked in a breath, kneeling down to be at eye-level with you.

“You will be,” he said with confidence, as if there were nothing in the world that could challenge that. You still didn’t look at him.

He cupped your face gently with his hand, turning your gaze to finally look him into his eyes - where a storm of hurt, confusion, and exhaustion brewed. It was enough for traitorous tears to begin slipping down your cheeks. You shut your eyes as you wept silently, feeling the soft pads of Gojo’s thumbs brushing against the delicate skin beneath your eyes,

“What happened, love?” he said softly, hearing the desperation in his voice.

You took a deep breath, struggling to make out Gojo’s expression through your blurry vision.

“I saw the picture of you with your arm around that girl,” you whispered.

The hand on your cheek froze, and you braced yourself to see a flash of guilt over his expressions. But he continued to stare at you evenly, like he had nothing to hide.

“I know you didn’t have a choice in marrying me. But if I came between you and someone else you love, then I’m truly sorry. I’ll be fine if you w-”

“Okay princess, I’m going to stop you right there.”

“Her name is Utahime. We grew up together but there has been nothing between us ever. In fact, she can barely stand me most of the time,” he said, sweeping his eyes across yours.

“I needed a huge favor from her. We were walking outside and she slipped on something, so I caught her by the shoulder to steady her. If the paparazzi had a front angle, they would’ve seen her flicking my arm off and looking pissed that I helped her at all.”

It hurt your heart, the way his voice wavered as he spoke to you. You had never heard him sound so scared. He was worried you wouldn’t believe him.

“Please say something,” he begged softly, laying his cool hand atop yours.

“I believe you,” you said, flipping up your hand to grip his own. The furrow between his brows relaxed, the tightness in his jaw easing as he slumped down next to you, in what might’ve been the least princely manner you’d seen from him.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you asked calmly, turning your head to look at him.

“You didn’t give me the chance. I was losing my mind trying to reach you, princess,” he said, his voice heavy as he gently slid the back of his fingers against your cheek, his hand traveling until his hand cupped the side of your face.

“I’m sorry. The rumors were affecting me more than I thought,” you began, pressing your lips together to steady yourself.

“All I could think about was how you are being forced to marry me. And I began wondering what you would do, who you would be with if you had a choice. How much happier you could be,” you said, the self-loathing thick in your voice as more tears slipped out.

He looked as if you had just struck him. He took a deep breath, a determined look coming over his features as he leaned into your space.

“You’re right that our engagement wasn’t my choice. But it was my choice to fall in love with you,” he said, lifting your palm to his lips.

You weren’t sure if there was a word for how you felt hearing those words. The relief, the joy, the disbelief that Prince Satoru Gojo was in love with you.

“You…love me?” you asked in a whisper, like the words were forbidden. A smile made its way across your lips as you spoke last few words. Gojo’s smile responded to yours - immediately softening his beautiful face.

“I am in love with you princess. I would choose you over and over again,” he said reverently, looking at you in that way of his that made you feel like the only person in the universe.

You launched yourself against him, wrapping your arms around his neck as he caught you with a surprised grunt. His big hands coming up to stroke your back, his arms around you pulling you in close against his chest.

You pulled back slightly, until your foreheads were nearly touching.

“I’m in love with you too, my prince.”

The breath left your lungs as the most gorgeous smile you’d ever seen stretched wide across his features, lighting up his eyes and brightening his face.

“You love me?” he asked, his arms around your waist tightening you even closer to him.

“I love you,” you said again, giggling at the pure, childlike happiness emanating from his face.

Suddenly, you were up in the air as your prince lifted you up and swung you in a circle, like the ending credits of a Disney movie.

The two of you laughed and spun until you were both out of breath, Gojo settling back down against the tree with you on his lap once more.

“You make me happier than I ever thought I could be,” he said, sending the blush straight to your cheeks. But instead of looking away in embarrassment, you shifted closer.

“You took the words right out of my mouth. You are more than anything I’ve ever dreamed of,” you said, leaning up to press your lips against the smooth skin of his cheek.

A beautiful pink dusted across his skin, but that brilliant smile remained on his lips.

“So, can I finally kiss you then?” you asked.

You bit back a laugh at the pure shock on his face - the way his eyes widened, pupils dilated, jaw slackened, like that was the last thing he ever expected you to ask him at this very moment.

“Fuck,” you heard him mutter under his breath.

“My prince?”

“Kiss me, princess,” he said, his voice heady as he spoke.

You smiled as you leaned forward, gingerly pressing your lips to his.

One soft peck to test the waters, the faintest brush of your lips. Then another one - your lips lingered longer, long enough to feel the press of his soft, full lips that chased yours when you pulled back.

You stared into his eyes for a moment, his eyes that looked glazed over and nearly black as he watched you with fevered intensity that must have mirrored your own. You leaned forward once more, tilting your head as you slanted your lips against his.

He groaned softly as he met each press of your lips, one hand cupping around your jaw to pull you even closer to him, the other hand sliding up the hem of your shirt.

“You are so,” he began, speaking in between kisses.

“Soft,”

“and warm,”

“and sweet,” he rasped, sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine as he lightly tugged your bottom lip between his teeth.

You broke away from the kiss for a second, your heaving chest a match to his.

“I love the way you taste,” you said, and it was true. His lips were sweet, and he tasted like the mints he always had.

But your words must’ve struck something in him, as those cerulean eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head as he tugged you to him with renewed fervor, kissing you like he would die if he stopped.

By the time you two finished, walking back into the palace well past sunset, the servants took one look at your linked hands and bruised lips and filled the halls with whispers and giggles.

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dc418writes · 5 months

Text

✨Pairing✨: felon!Ari Levinsonxblack!reader

Summary🪄: Surprisingly, you’re Ari’s first stop when he gets out of prison

🚨: 18+ NO MINORS!! Ari (first and foremost because hello☝🏾lol), angst, talks of prison, allusion to violence (male-male), allusion to childhood trauma, a few bad language words, unprotected happy adult fun times (everyone please be safe!)

A/N🎤: Hi! So this is my entry for the Cum Together Extravaganza created by the amazing, talented, wonderful, whore-mone inducing @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420 lol, and I hope everyone enjoys☺️! *This idea is loosely based off Nicolas Cage’s character from Con Air (if you know you know✨)

*DISCLAIMER!: although visual was created by me via Canva, I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pictures used as they were all found via Pinterest*

Prompt: Pining + Running into each other after a long time apart + Frantic Kisses

His heavy boots stop just a foot or two away from the familiar steps he’d climbed plenty of times before. A mix of emotions swirling through his brain causing a tightness in his chest.

He shouldn’t be here.

Not after he’d all but physically pushed you out the visitation room that day. A common tactic of self sabotage he developed over the years, along with his way of trying to protect you from the eventual hurt he knew he’d put you through.

You were so angelic that day. Your natural glow competing with the sun outside shining through the window against your soft skin seemingly made of gold. Brown eyes full of worry, yet still holding that sparkle Ari had never experienced from anyone before. This wasn’t a place for you to be. A place that would soon tarnish your purity - so white the freshest snow, having fallen directly from the sky above, seemed dirty.

“You’re hurt,” you stated wanting so badly to reach out and try to do something for the blue and purple bruise on his cheek. To clean the dried blood around the stitch in his right eyebrow, but you keep your hands to yourself following the strict “no touching” rule.

He only shrugged. Clearly uncaring of whatever happened, but there was also a dimness to his spirit.

Since your first meeting, you could tell there was something hidden behind the walls he’d built. Sense a complicated past before he felt comfortable enough to tell you some of what he’d gone through. However this was different. Past the point of reverting back to the old Ari that was known as a troubled, aloof hermit, it’s almost as if this was a completely different man.

“I uh wanted to bring you cookies, but the officer said no,” you started again, trying to change the subject since Ari wouldn’t tell you what happened. “Something about possible contraband smuggling? As if I could sneak something in a small cookie. Plus it’s me of all people! Where would I even get-,”

“Don’t come back here,” he finally spoke in that gruff voice. It takes you back at first, lightly chuckling to yourself thinking he was joking. His serious eyes - somewhat dark and with new adjoining bags from his lack of sleep - tell you otherwise quickly causing a furrow to your brows.

“Wha-What do you mean-?”

“You don’t need to be waiting for me. Just…leave.”

“B-But I love you Ari.”

He shakes his head before standing to his feet. “We’re done,” he calls over his shoulder as he reaches the metal door. Whoever was in charge apparently heard him from the pad shining green to grant him entrance back to the waiting hall where another officer met him to reapply his cuffs and escort him to his cell.

All the while ignoring your cries of his name and how you pleaded for him to talk to you.

But later that night, staring at the discolored white ceiling as he lied in his top bunk on an uncomfortable, lumpy mattress, it’s all he could hear. Those same tears that ran down your cheeks now silently running down his.

“Fuck,” he silently curses to himself while his fingers pass through his almond strands as he turns away - now hyper aware of how strange he probably looked to your neighbors just standing in your yard. He should’ve just gone to the halfway house he’d been recommended from the transfer counselor.

Try to stay far from you and this part of town for that matter.

He was slowly realizing though, that the heart he thought was closed off desperately craved attention only you could give. Only wanted your warm touch and smile that soothed a childhood ache he’d long suppressed.

Just as he moves to descend your stone path, the front door creaks open to staccato taps on your wooden porch. There’s a continuous clink of metal followed by excited barks as the black dachshund runs down the steps and around Ari’s feet.

“Barry! You can’t run-”

Beautiful as a painting in a museum, there you stood in your cut off jean shorts and some older looking shirt. Your hair much shorter than the last time he saw you eight years ago, but the pixie cut only brought more attention to your gorgeous face and adorable cheeks.

Other than that, it’s as if you hadn’t aged a day.

“A-Ari?,” you stammer stepping further out onto your porch.

He has to clear his throat to get rid of the nerves blocking his words from escaping. “I…I’m sorry for just showin’ up like this. Would’ve called, but when they gave me my phone back it was dead.”

“So..you’re out?”

“Yea,” he softly smiles. You don’t return it though looking as if you’d seen a ghost while staying planted on the top step. Even Barry had returned back to your side, circling a couple times until he felt comfortable enough to lie down. “This was a mistake. Clearly she doesn’t want you here.”

“I’ll uh leave then,” Ari says nervously scratching the back of his neck after a long - and awkward enough - moment of silence between you two. “I didn’t mean to bother-”

Before he can finish, you’re running down the steps - not caring of the dirt and grass on your bare feet. He’s prepared for your deserved anger, whether that be yelling, shoves, or even punches. Instead, your fists clasp the front of his shirt as you pull him down to meet your lips.

After years apart his hands still automatically find their usual place on your body bringing you closer. Ari’s right on the side of your neck, tilting your chin however he needed to gain the access to your mouth he missed, while his left dragged from your hip to the middle of your back holding you to him.

Your moan hitting him in a deep, long ignored place that has him embarrassed like a teenage boy how fast his blood runs southward.

The need for air has you both begrudgingly parting, while your foreheads stay connected. “I’m sorry..for everything,” he whispers letting his thumb graze along your petal soft bottom lip. It’s as if he thinks you’ll break he’s so gentle - like it’s a fragile piece of artwork he dared touch.

"I didn't-"

"Shh," you reply leaning up to peck his lips once more. "Later."

Your lips barely separate journeying the short distance from your front door to your bedroom. Both of them red and swollen, yet neither of you attempt to stop as your back hits the light blue comforter - fluffy and soft as a cloud.

His hands grip your thighs curling along his sides, yet fail to move where you need them most making you whimper as his mouth slides to your neck. Taking matters into your own hands, you pull his shirt over his muscled back - silently giggling to yourself and filling with a sense of pride hearing his pleasured groan as your nails rake against his warm skin.

They’re set for his buckle next, but Ari’s quick to use his rougher and stronger ones to pin on either side of your head. “Ari please,” you whine eagerly trying to grind your hips so your soaking core can get some type of relief. You know he’s desperate for something too briefly nudging the tent formed in front of his pants.

“I know, I know.” He unsuccessfully tries to kiss the pout from your lips. “I..I wanna take my time tonight. It’s been eight years sweetheart.”

The deprived and needy part of you wants to counter, urging him for the opposite since it’s been so long. Instead, you nod letting him completely take control.

Slowly, he helps remove your clothes before open mouth kisses and taps of his tongue flow down from your neck and across your heaving chest to your stomach. You moan arching your back to lift your breasts closer to his face when he returns there taking his time attacking one nipple with his tongue while the other is groped and plucked in his free hand.

By the time he finally reaches your waiting and wet core, it only takes one lick and your sweet release is covering his beard.

“S-Sorry,” you stammer feeling your skin heat even more from shame not wanting that to happen so quickly.

“Sorry?,” he softly chuckles before leaving a kiss on your mound. “That’s what’s supposed to happen.”

The sound nearly has you in tears knowing your Ari was back. The one you knew loved you just as much as you loved him.

Having had a taste after going so long without, he can’t wait for more switching between his skillful tongue and fingers until your juices flow again, His mouth attached to you; greedily slurping everything you could give him. Your fingers are seemingly locked in his hair as he rises enough to remove his pants. Grunting as he grabs the base - past the point of painfully hard - to direct himself inside you.

“Fuck,” he moans into your neck feeling you rapidly pulse around him. So warm and tight he has to restrain himself from taking you like a wild animal.

Not that you would mind.

“M’not gonna last baby.”

“Spose to happen,” you slur clutching around him urging him to move.

His hand tightly pinning your hip to the bed, his thrusts start slow yet hard before gaining speed the closer he feels. Simultaneously, your cries of his name get louder as well while his mouth and tongue move along your neck and earlobe.

“Shit, I feel you right there baby come on. Come with me.” You can’t comprehend anything with your brain in this foggy, love drunk state, yet somehow your body complies when his thumb finds your swollen and throbbing nub squirting against his skin and down to the sheets below. “Mm good girl.”

His final pumps have you filled until no more can stay. A small mix of both your releases leaking from your hole with every surge of his hips until he’s drained.

Exhausted, he carefully tries to pull out but your whines have him stopping. Softly smiling to himself while slowly lowering until he’s comfortably laying on top of you. “Calm down I’m here.”

Soon your even breaths fill his ears and he’s able to lie on his side - gently moving you with him- to completely take in the area surrounding him. His fingertips mindlessly tracing along your thigh as he reacquaints himself to your bedroom. It was fitting for you in every way, from the light yellow of the walls to the books lining the shelves he built for you long ago. Your few stuffed animals in a wicker basket in the corner as if they were prepared for bed themselves.

Ari notices one in particular - a white bunny with long ears and pink bows he bought you during a trip to the store one day - on your dresser next to a framed picture you must’ve secretly took. He appeared to be taking a break from something dressed in a gray tee, dark jeans, and work-boots with his utility belt on his hips. A bottle of water in his hand lifted to his lips as he looked off somewhere in the distance. Now that he thought about it, he was watching a bird peck the ground trying to find bugs or seeds to eat.

And he looked so peaceful. So calm for once in his tormented life. He had you to thank for that being kind and willing enough to share your light when he fought so hard against it.

In the bit of moonlight peeking through the blinds, he can make out ‘Home’ in the corner of the picture causing the slightest curl to his lips as he holds you closer.

“You kept putting up with me,” he quietly speaks pecking your temple. “So patient even after everything. Know I’m never leavin you again sweetheart. I’m home for good.”

#CT 2024 raffle entry #ari levinson #ari levinson au #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x black!reader #red sea diving resort #ari levinson x woc #chris evans #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x woc!reader #CT 2024 community extravaganza

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cyberfreaky · 2 years

Text

˗ˏˋ 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 ´ˎ˗ [ 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 ]

pairing: tonowari x dilf!jake x fem!avatar

summary: you were tired of jake being mean to you — so you decided to fuck around with his nicer best friend.

warnings: nsfw content (18+ mdni), p & v penetration, oral (m & f receiving), sub!tonowari, dom!jake, praise kink, degradation, fingering, handjob, clit stimulation, slight angst, inaccurate plot (it’s an au y’all), honestly just a bunch of filth

notes: i need to start writing part two but this has been in my drafts collecting dust, i might as well start the series now lmao i hope you enjoy eee

p.s creds to @cuethediscoandthedrinks for the terms um’ma and up’pa hehe i loved using them in this

you were at your limits with jake.

he had been so cruel to you during your training sessions — going as far as ridiculing you for crying after he had yelled right in your face. you were well aware that he was strict & an irritable man at times, but you’d never expect him to treat you so poorly. he had never acknowledged you outside of your private time together — not even so much as a passing glance when you saw him in the village.

you wanted to be appreciated, to be wanted. you were fed up with just being used as his personal stress reliever. the only way you believed you could get him back was by doing the unthinkable.

“i love spending time with you.”

you were perched on the lap of jake’s closest friend — tonowari. his back was pressed against the rough bark of a tree, thick legs sprawled out in front of him providing you with a comfortable seat.

“you do?” he questioned you, purring gently as your delicate hand skimmed through his braids.

your eyes stared lustfully into his bright ones — the building tension between you both and ever so subtle gyrating of your hips were causing his length to swell. “of course i do, up’pa. you’re so kind to me.”

“feared i was boring you.”

“never. you make me feel good.”

you shifted closer to ‘wari, your clothed heat grazing the pitched tent in his loincloth. his breath hitched at the sudden touch — the sensation itself was nearly orgasmic for him. your azure fingers cupped his flushed cheek, your thumb brushing the warmth of his skin. seeing him crumble before you with only the slightest touch was an unforeseen sight for you — typically, you were the one who submitted so easily. this was a new colour for you.

tonowari always had eyes for you, the way you confidently strutted around with no care in the world enchanted him even further. you were perfection to him, he’d spent months yearning for a slither of your attention. but his feelings for you were subdued once he discovered his good friend was secretly seeing you, and it broke his poor heart. every time jake mentioned your name in a conversation, a tinge of jealousy would erupt inside him. all he craved was your touch, but now that he had all he wanted — all he could feel was guilt.

his chest heaved, shaking his head anxiously. “this isn’t right. i..i can’t do this to jake.” ‘wari stuttered, the gentle strokes from your nimble fingers on his skin wasn’t helping him suppress his obvious desire.

“jake has nothing to do with me anymore, he had his chance and he blew it.” your face etched closer to tonowari’s flattened ear, your mouth ghosting across the soft earlobe. “don’t worry about him, he’ll never find out about this.”

“d’you promise?” ‘wari gazed helplessly at you, his puppy-like eyes made you feel smitten.

“of course.”

you leant forward and pressed your lips against tonowari’s, practically tasting his desperation. his lips were soft, almost silken. he parted them to allow your tongue to intertwine with his. butterflies emerged into ‘wari’s tummy as he whimpered into the passionate kiss, unconsciously allowing you to engulf him in your domineering presence.

“wanna make you feel good.” you whisper into the kiss, slowly pulling away. “you gonna let me do that, up’pa?”

he nodded feverishly. “yes.”

“good boy.”

you began leaving sloppy kisses down his neck, occasionally nipping at his skin to leave a trail of purple love bites. the heavenly sounds of tonowari’s whimpers were fuelling you — you were relishing in the way you made him feel so needy.

you left kisses all across his beautiful body — with no exception to his sensitive nipples. your tongue swirled around the hard nub, while your fingers toyed with the other. ‘wari was a panting mess, head resting back as his eyes fluttered shut. he was far too ashamed to express out loud the immense pleasure he was feeling — you’d noticed when you saw him biting down viscously on his swollen lip.

“don’t be shy, my love.” you cooed. your fingers danced across the hem of his blotched loincloth, soon palming his aching hard on. “i wanna hear how good you feel.”

your sudden touch forced a guttural groan to escape his mouth. “p..please.” he winced once more as you removed the fabric, his throbbing cock hitting his abdomen. “touch me, please.”

you smiled at him as your fingers snaked around his bulbous tip, using your thumb to smear the beads of clear precum across the head. tonowari’s mind began to black out as you teased his cock — his poor hips bucking in the air to create some sort of friction around his girthy length. it was such an attractive sight, you could feel your pussy pulsating just watching him fall apart in front of you.

“you look s’pretty, up’pa.” you say. “i want you to make a mess in my hands, alright?”

“y-yes, um’ma.”

you gradually began to pump ‘wari, purposely using an agonisingly slow pace to taunt him. he mewled in pure anguish, hoping that the speed of your hand would quicken. you watched as tonowari’s face contorted in a devilish mixture of pleasure and complete desperation — his glistening eyes falling back as he felt the coil in the pit of his plush tummy about to snap.

your lips connected with his again as your wrist began to flick harder, earning a mouthful of muffled moans from the poor man. “faster, please.” he begged. “feels so good.”

“mm, you’re so polite, aren’t you?” you praised him — your words making him writher beneath you. “good boy like you deserves to cum.”

you kept your promise and increased the speed of your pace, relentlessly pumping at his quivering cock. tonowari’s hips began to buck once again, following the rhythm of your heavenly grasp. you would have forced him to stay still and edged him to an aching oblivion — but seeing ‘wari trying his hardest to coax out his rising orgasm was far too erotic for you to stop.

his pornographic moans only heightened when your other hand cupped his swollen balls, fondling the heavy sack as you jerked his aching length. “oh, eywa.” tonowari groaned shakily. a depraved moan nearly escaped your mouth as his salacious sounds filled your ears — you could feel the slick in your dripping cunt dampening your loincloth.

the mixture of both your hands pleasuring ‘wari to unbelievable heights were making his vision blur. you were so much better than he could of ever expected, the coyness he once felt was now replaced with loud, desperate grunts for release. “m’gonna cum, d..don’t stop!” he pleaded in between breaths. his eyes squeezed shut as his large hands landed on the moss floor, providing additional support for his trembling body.

you smiled proudly at tonowari. “cum for um’ma, just like the good boy i know you are.”

your final praises were enough to push him over the edge, the coil within him snapping swiftly. “m’cumming, um’ma. fuck!” he cried out. you felt his thick cock twitch in your palm, forcing your pace to quicken to an immeasurable speed. tonowari could not focus on anything but the desperate need for his release. ropes of pearlescent cum spurted from his throbbing tip, spilling into your welcoming hands.

the sounds of the forest were nothing but the heaving breaths of tonowari. you gave him a moment to relax, the intensity of his climax had taken a noticeable toll on him. it was a mere few moments before his pretty eyes were able to open, ‘wari was mesmerised as he watched lap up every drop of his salty load off your fingers. he was so dazed, feeling himself become overwhelmingly devoted to you. “did that feel good, ‘wari?” you ask him, snapping him out of the trance you had put him in.

“y..yes, thank you.” he panted breathlessly.

you peck his bitten lips, grasping onto his hand and guiding it to the aching wetness between your thighs. your slick had completely dampened the thin material, dripping sensually onto tonowari’s fingers. he gasped at the feeling, the mere stroke of your arousal was enough to make him hard again. “can you help me?”

he eagerly nodded and swiftly switched your places. your back now pressed against the aging tree, weakening legs spread apart with a desirous tonowari positioned between your plush thighs. his urgency to pleasure you made your core pulsate more than it already was, ‘wari’s eyes were filled with such hunger that wanted to devour every inch of you.

your loincloth was quickly abandoned to the side, the cold air hitting your sopping pussy made your amber eyes roll back. tonowari gazed up at you through his lashes, keeping eye contact as his experienced tongue began to softly lick your puffy clit. “oh..my god.” you whimpered. the feeling was decadent — soon growing stronger once his kitten licks turned harsh.

tonowari’s began to harshly suck on your sensitive bud, bringing two fingers to your dripping folds and collecting your nectar around his digits. his fingers slid inside you slowly, stretching your tight cunt as he continued to roughly kiss on your swelling clit. “f..fuck, you’re making um’ma feel so good, ‘wari!” you cried, your shorter legs hooked around his broad neck.

as you tangled your fingers into his braids and unapologetically allowed your lewd moans to echo into the depths of the pandora — you were oblivious to the familiar eyes that were watching you from a distance. he didn’t expected to find you so deep within the forest, especially not with his best friends head between your legs.

#tonowari smut #tonowari #tonowari x reader #avatar #avatar smut #jake sully #jake sully smut #atwow #tonowari x you

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pugh-bug · 2 months

Note

A summerhouse au!, where both art and readers family's rent or own the same house (or diff- cause honestly they can) and get together every year just for them to bond over (that's the only time they physically see each other)

Imagine unlimited piggybacks wherever and whenever you want- even to the shortest of distance

Honestly just melts my heart thinking about it🫠😍

-🍃

Peachy Promises

Art Donaldson x reader

I’m sorry this is later than I wanted but I loved your request and may have got carried away with it! I hope you enjoy this summerhouse fic 🌻🫶🏻

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Gentle tapping of leaves against the car window woke you from your nap. Your Mum was driving the poor car a little too close to the bushes that lined the twisted paths to the Summerhouse. It had been a family tradition since you were thirteen - or twelve you couldn’t remember - to go there every July and stay for a month.

‘Excited to see Art again honey?’

The Donaldson’s officially owned the property and had for generations and their son, Art, had been your favourite aspect of Summer for years. You only saw him once a year.

‘Yeah,’ you mumbled, face cramped in-between your flat pillow and the car window. The gentle thunk of hedgerow branches hitting the car would have sent you back to sleep if you weren’t so elated to see Art again. When the two of you first met all those years before he’d mistaken you for his friend Alice and asked for you.

‘Alice? Come here, I need to show you this!’

You looked at the short, freckled blonde before you and took in his confused expression with curiosity and glee.

‘You’re not Alice…’ you were indeed not Alice but you did intrigue the boy. His parents were strict about girls - too strict. The gender had become almost entirely fantastical to him, except for Alice who was more like a sister or an annoying cousin than anything else.

‘Go on. Show me what you wanted to show her.’

The boy lead you to the gardens beyond the Summerhouse your parents were so diligently unpacking in. It was beautiful, full of sunflowers and violets but the most incredible sight was the marble statue that depicted two kissing mermaids. It was no shorter than 8 feet tall and towered over the two of you, with you being almost a foot shorter than the strange boy.

‘So pretty…’ you sighed, taking in the sight whilst the boy took in you. After a moment he outstretched his hand ‘Hey, I’m Art.’

The car incessantly moaned for more fuel until you reached the car park and stopped. No one announced ‘We’re here’ because the three of you all knew. You wiped the sleep from your eyes and reached for your beaten up suitcase, the same one you’d used all of those years ago, and looked for Art. Just like the last year and the year before that and the year before that, Art was waiting impatiently by the peach tree. It never stopped growing, in fact it had grown so unruly and proud that it obstructed the Summerhouse mailbox entirely. The fresh scent was worth it.

‘Y/N!’ Art grinned as you left the car, dropping your case as you ran towards each other. Your parents knew the drill. It was the same every Summer. ‘I’ve missed you so much.’ He mumbled into your shoulder, as your parents retreated to their wing of the house. You inhaled Art’s shampoo as his soft curls tickled your cheek, he always smelt of pure Summer in a bottle. It was a hot day.

‘I’ve missed you too!’ Before you could get your case Art was grabbing you, pulling you onto his back. ‘Come on, I’ll carry you.’ Piggybacks were also apart of the yearly drill. You’d both expected him to stop years ago but he never did, Art revelled in carrying you around. It made him feel childish and gleeful, like the two of you had been at 12 - like he hoped the two of you could still be around each other.

Art carried you to your room, which had in the last three years been changed to the one next to his own, and set you down by the bed. The waft of air-con cooled your warm skin. ‘You gonna unpack?’ He gestured to your bulging suitcase but you shook your head. ‘Nah, can we do something fun? I’ve had the shittiest week.’

The Summerhouse visits had began to bring you and your parents closer but ironically, and this was entirely the blondes fault, you never spent less time together than those months. July had become a time for your parents to ‘focus on their marriage’ (whatever that means) and for you to see your best friend.

‘Wanna go swimming?’

Your eyes brightened at the suggestion, you loved swimming more than anything and the heat was palpable. ‘Your parents fixed the pool?’ Art simply nodded, while you frantically looked for the bathing suit you hoped you’d packed. You had. Forever the gentleman, Art left you alone to get dressed but the second you were back he was piggybacking you to the pool outside.

‘Cannon ball or graceful dive?’ You asked, doing your best Olympic swimmer stance. Art tried not to stare too hard at you in your red swimsuit, tried not to think too hard about how much older the two of you were but what his parents had said about your friendship being ‘too important to ruin’. He replied ‘Graceful dive.’

As the cool water enveloped your streamline body, you smiled. The oppressive heat couldn’t reach your sanctuary in the Donaldson pool, god it felt good to be back. Art jumped in after you, taking off his shirt before performing his own graceful dive. ‘Few years ago you’d have said cannon ball.’ You squeezed the excess water out of your nose to punctuate your sentence, feeling the water in your hair drip down your neck. ‘You’ve grown up.’ Art watched the droplets - fascinated for a moment before he frowned at your beaming face. He didn’t want to grow up. Art looked around, taking in the idyllic views: the freshly mowed grass, poppies and ivy coated red brick. ‘My parents are selling this place.’

Your smile dropped.

‘You’re not serious? Why?’

‘I’m going Stanford in September. They only kept this place for me.’

‘You weren’t gonna come back for Summer?’

‘Will you?’

That stung but he was right, in fact you’d been considering going as far as Boston University. Suddenly the water didn’t feel refreshing and the sky didn’t appear so blue.

‘You’ll come back right?’ Art asked, watching you shove your bags into your parents car. ‘Of course,’ You grinned. ‘My parents love it here- I love it here. Might even become a regular thing.’

The boy lit up at that, pulling you into a tight hug. He was the first boy to properly hug you. ‘I’ll be here.’ Was all he said.

‘I’m proud of you Art,’ you smiled weakly, brushing his wet hair off of his forehead as the two of you bobbed in the water. He looked his age, Art had never looked his age. ‘Stanford. It’ll be amazing.’ You meant it, he’d always been an excellent tennis player. He’d thrashed you in too many matches to count, you thought your defeats were some of his favourite moments. Tennis had always been his biggest love. There was no doubt in your mind that he’d be somebody one day, somebody worth telling your friends you knew. ‘I know Art Donaldson.’ Well…you knew Art Donaldson.

He didn’t fail to notice the defeat in your eyes, although your belief in him had always given him hope so your words were everything. Your fingers hesitated to leave his soft skin. ‘Y/N,’ you traced his features with your eyes. Remembering. ‘I need to tell you something and I - I think you might already know.’

‘I know.’

Blush coated his cheeks as Art waited with an intense stare for your next move. He didn’t know what would hurt him more, to have you for a Summer and never again or to have never had you at all.

Before he could speak your hands were cradling his face and pulling his lips to yours. He tasted like peaches. Neither of you said a word as Art’s hands ran down your waist, trying to get closer to you through the drenched swimsuit while he hummed into your kiss. You couldn’t quite explain it but you felt the mermaid statue was watching over the two of you, it too knowing that you’d always miss the boy who gifted you those Summers.

Masterlist

#challengers art donaldson x reader #art donaldson fanfiction #art donaldson fluff #art donaldson x you #art donaldson fic #art Donaldson #art Donaldson x reader #art Donaldson x reader fluff #pughbug #challengers #challengers fandom #challengers summer #challengers fic

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narrators-journal · 1 year

Note

Which physical traits would hxh adult trio, and fetain, and main four (grown up, and if you can add them) like on their S/O?

I, straight up cannot think of shit in the way of strict details. So, I hope these answer well enough. I hope you enjoy, and thank you for being so patient with the answer to this.

Illumi Zoldyck

Out of everyon on this list, Illumi would have the strictest expectations for his future wife. Strong nen abilities are at the top of that list, but on a purely physical level, Illumi’d prefer a soft, feminine figure. Breeding is at the top of his priorities as Killua has shown no interest in letting them near any future children and Illumi’s the eldest. Meaning, wide, healthy hips and a full chest would be his top priority. Likely with a taste for darker, longer hair, he all around prefers his wifely options to be feminine in personality and body.

Chrollo Lucifer

On the opposite end of the spectrum, Chrollo likely cares the least about the physical appearance of his partners. He prefers to prioritize less shallow things, like a brilliant and cunning mind, a selfless streak, good heart, or useful abilities of any sort. But, as someone who grew up in a rougher area, I do feel like he’d be attracted to stable bodies. No one too flashy, but someone with a bit of weight to prove they’re able to take good care of themselves, a sign of financial security, who might have a bit of muscle and can handle themselves.

Hisoka Morrow

Hisoka, meanwhile, is neither picky, nor carefree about what his partner looks like. He doesn’t care for gender, or about chisled, defined muscles or height. Yet, his dream partner is someone with a fair share of muscle on their body. He wants a powerful lover, so he wants someone who takes good care of their body. Toned is the best description for the physical traits he looks for. He wants to see abs and powerful muscles when his partner flexes. He wants them sturdy, and able to take a hit, no toothpick elves for him. Those types are fun, as are the curvascious femmes and top heavy doritos, but he wants a well rounded lover. Strong legs, a tight torso, and powerful arms.

Feitan

Feitan is a sadist, he’s not picky so long as his sadism is met. That being said, his crème de la crème of physical looks is someone on the softer side. Not weak and pathetic, he does enjoy a fight to really fuel the sadism. But, someone with plenty of body to bite, cut, and dig into. The extra weight, in his head, ensures he can cut just a little deeper. Bruise a little darker with less fear of damaging the internals too bad. Is that mindset true? I dunno, but he’d probably think that way.

Leorio Paradinight

Leorio is the hardest one here to guess on what type he’d like. He cares the least about physical looks, he only wants a smart, ambitious partner who knows what they want and is striving to get it. He wants someone on an even footing with him in his goal to become a doctor. Weight, height, hair color, skin color, nothing like that matters to him. Have a good personality and the drive to chase your dreams into reality, and he’s smitten.

Kurapika Kurta

Like Leorio, Kurapika looks more into personality and morals then physical looks. Yet, unlike Leorio, he does have a favorite in terms of looks. If he had it his way, he seems like he’d like a partner with lighter, longer hair. He would like a softer partner, no one out and about to cause trouble, a softer place to turn to when he struggles or faces down a challenging mission for the hunters.

Gon

Gon gave no shits about physical looks in childhood, he has zero care for it in his adulthood. He just wants someone able to keep up with him and match his energy. So, someone with an active, leaner body, with muscles and stamina and low maintenance hair. He’s an active man, running around exploring and fighting, he’d like someone who can match that without caring for long hair or a few scrapes.

Killua Zoldyck

Killua gives no thought to appearance out of spite. His family claims to not be snooty on appearance, but they have high expectations for any of their kids’ partners, so Killua refuses to look at such shallow details. Chubby? Muscular? Tall? Thin? He doesn’t care. So long as his partner isn’t vain and annoying, he couldn’t care less. Save for the small things, like him not particularly liking dark haired partners due to how they look too similar to his family. It’s not like he particularly wants kids though, so he has no reason to worry about them ‘fitting in’ with his family.

#hxh #hunter x hunter #x reader #ask #drabble #Illumi Zoldyck #Chrollo Lucifer #aged up characters #Killua Zoldyck #Hisoka Morrow #Gon #Leorio Paridinight #Kurapkia Kurta #Feitan

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simplydannie · 3 months

Text

Montegue AU || Vivian Montegue || Updated Vaughn

Vaughn Montegue

WIP

He extends his hand out to Veneer.

“Come on son. Let’s go.” He says.

There they stood, under the street lights of Under Rageous. After pursuing him for so long, Vaughn finally caught up to his son. Veneer is hesitant. He stands in the middle of the street, before him is his father, he looks behind him where a group of tiny Trolls stay staring at him: Branch, John Dory… and Floyd. Floyd holds his broken arm as he looks at the two giant Rageons before him.

“Veneer!” His father calls again in his deep voice, “No more screwing anything up. You’ve done enough of that! You pushed your sister away, you made her go back to that vile woman!….You’re coming home, and you’re coming home now.” His fathers bright blue eyes were fixated on his son… he reminded Vaughn so much of his wife, of their mother. The same innocence and soft expression…

“Veneer. Come. Now.” He demanded once more.

“Ven?” Veneer turned to see that Floyd had called his name. The small troll tried to stand up, but he was too weak….

Veneer turned again to his father… this was the first time in so long he acknowledged him, that he called him son… but he couldn’t… he couldn’t do it… Veneer slowly began to back away.

“….what are you doing?” Vaughn asked in true disbelief. Veneer shook his head, he was holding his purple beanie close to his heart… the only thing he’d ever had from his father, something to remind him of the man he once was long ago… the man his mom would talk to them about…

“I’m sorry….” Was all Veneer said. He turned around and scooped up the small Trolls, holding them in his hands. “…I can’t go with you…”

Vaughn stared at his son in disbelief….Was he really choosing the Trolls over his own father?

…I am reposting sorry!! I wasn’t too impressed how the last post came out. I think I tried to make it too impressive when it really wasn’t (plus I’ve been going through a lot of self-consciousness lately and really been beating myself up about certain things 💔)

Here is Vaughn, father of Velvet and Veneer. Now in some stories and AUs he died along side his wife in a car crash…. But for the Under Rageous AU, he’s going to serve a little bit more of a significant part.

The twins have told Floyd that their parents have died… that’s true, but only for one parent….

Under Rageous is a dangerous place… half it run by crime lords in which Vaughn a one of them and the most conniving of them all. He over sees the Europium Rageon Distract and his business is dealing Trolls and their essence to the Black Market of Under Rageous.

He married a beautiful Rageon named Vivian (the twins mother) and really was in love with her. The twins aunt Cressida was choosen as a suitor for him but his heart wanted Vivian. She was the only to really bring out his softer side especially around his children (whom he was REALLY strict on). Vaughn never physically abused his kids, but he would say things that would mentally and emotionally hurt them. He was especially hard on his son whom the business would go too being the male of the household.

With the business he’s in comes LOTS of enemies that includes gangs and crime lords from the other Rageon districts. He was hated especially by the Strobe Rageon crime boss.

What really ruined and changed Vaughn was the death of his wife. She was killed by a gang of Rageons who were hired to hit him…. She was a few weeks pregnant at the time. He went mad!

Without anyone to simmer him down, he began to get REALLY hard on the twins, causing them to runaway and fend for themselves out in the under-city. Angered, Vaughn went out to search for his children only to find that they had been taken up to Mount Rageous by someone is just as cunning or even more so… The Mistress.

Does he care for his kids? Does he really love them? It’s put the test when they return to the under-city after their failed attempt in fame. Because of whose children they are and their little public fiasco, EVERYONE is on the hunt for them… every bad person in the under-city you can think of.

But what will REALLY anger Vaughn, and perhaps it’s jealousy, when Veneer chooses Floyd (a tiny little Troll) over his own blood related father…

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nicksbestie · 1 year

Note

yn falling asleep on calum’s lap

Nap

i love agere fics <33

word count : 687

warnings : none!

enjoy!

Being a little came with a routine, for the most part.

The strictest parts of your routine were bedtime and naptime, and with a stricter caregiver, those were non-negotiables. Calum was strict but he was so loving, and part of that combination came with him making sure you were in bed on time, no exceptions. And most of the time, that wasn’t an issue, but today, naptime had come with a struggle.

You just didn’t want to go down for a nap. Normally, lunch, paired with a bottle, and promises of snuggles from your caregiver were enough to convince you easily. But today, it wasn’t working. You viewed nap and bedtime as “leaving” your caregiver, and while your subconscious knew that this statement wasn’t true, your little mind truly didn’t get that. Since Calum always promised cuddles and that he’d stay with you during naptime, you normally went happily, but today it just wasn’t enough.

Time-out hadn’t worked, bribery hadn’t worked, a bottle hadn’t worked, and while he was trying so badly not to show it, Calum was getting so frustrated. He wasn’t mad at you, he never was, but he knew if you didn’t go down for a nap soon that you’d be completely off schedule and it was going to be so difficult to get you back on track, so he needed you to fall asleep roughly in the next twenty minutes, for you to stay on schedule.

He had finally resorted to picking you up and walking around with you, hoping the motion would help. However, it didn’t, and he was struggling. So, lacking in ideas, he sat down on the couch with you in his lap, gentle hand rubbing your back, your hands clutching your stuffie and comfort blankie as you laid your head against his shoulder, looking up at him with wide eyes, sleep nowhere to be found in them. Calum gave you a soft but tired smile, gently humming along to a tune the band had been working on for their new album.

He got to the chorus before he noticed that you’d stopped shifting around so much, he looked down at you, realizing a small yawn was making its way out of your mouth, eyes drooping closed. He smiled, pausing the song to pick you up, only for you to whine and for your eyes to pop right back open. It only took him about ten seconds to realize what you wanted, and he continued the soft song, picking up back at the chorus.

“Into the dark, we’re no good for each other, into the dark, I’m not welcome no more. Cause I been spending all this time alone, I’m on the red line, sinking Aperol…”

The further he got into the song, the more you relaxed in his arms, his soft voice and comfortable hold on you successfully getting you to let yourself fall asleep. He took a deep breath between verses, disguising it as a moment to breathe before continuing the song, but really being a sigh of relief that you were dozing off. By the time he finished the song, you were completely asleep on his lap, stuffie tucked under one arm as your hand gripped his shirt tightly, unconsciously telling him to not let you go.

He realized there was no way he was going to be able to move you to your bed, not without waking you, and he knew you desperately needed the sleep. You had fallen asleep just in time to get enough sleep and stay on your schedule, and Calum didn’t want to risk it. However, he couldn’t resist grabbing his phone, within arms reach, and snapping a quick photo of the two of you. If you ever found it, he’d insist you were just way too cute to not do it. So, when he was sure he could slightly move without disturbing you, he grabbed his AirPods that were just out of reach, and he slipped one in so that he could watch a show on his phone while you rested. And that was how naptime went, despite the beginning struggles.

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carpettmuncher · 8 months

Text

We’re standing under the neon vacancy sign of the motel, and you’re starin’ at me and I’m lookin’ anywhere else. I’m takin’ a drag of the cig and handing it back to you, and I’m tryin’ to drag my eyes away from you takin’ a pull of it.

“Don’t it bother you?” you say, and I finally flick my eyes back up to yours. “That shit your dad says?”

I smile despite myself, ‘cause you’re just so damn honest. Not joking so I got nothin’ to snap back with. It’s new to me, the way you talk: all honest and genuine but still quick and funny. Not that stupid soft shit chicks are into, but not all rough edges like I am. I think I like it a little more than I prob’ly should.

I cross my arms over my chest and stare back out at the sky. Even after all these years, I still like it out here in small Midwest towns rather than the big East Coast cities. Lets you see more stars, and sometimes I can look up and pretend I’m at a ranch out in the country rather than a motel on the edge of another nameless town. “Do you get along with your dad?” I finally say.

You scrunch your nose up and pass me back the cig, and I’m smiling too much to take a drag of it. “Not the same, Dean,” you say.

I snort and take another drag, slow and careful with it. I can feel your eyes on me, and damn if I don’t blush. You prob’ly think I blush easy, with how much you make me do it, but it’s only you that brings it out. Only you.

“Sure, Lee,” I say. “Sure.”

And here’s the thing I’m not saying: I like that you care but I got no freakin’ clue what to do with it. No clue how to tell you all the shit about my dad ‘cause it’s been balled up inside me for years and I got a strict set of instructions in my brain when it comes to him. How to survive. How to survive when it feels like I got a shotgun for a father.

I told you once that sometimes I feel like no more than an extension of my dad and his gun and you took my hands in yours so gently, so gently and said you’re so much more and if I didn’t know any better I’d’ve started crying right then and there.

I don’t get you, Lee. You’re all lefts and rights. Rights and wrongs, sugar and salt. A hunter but not like me ‘n dad, a drinker but you don’t got that anger that comes with it, a lover but you ain’t cheap and fast about it.

I try not to think about how I know that when I see dad’s car pull up, like he’d be able to read my mind.

“You should go,” I say, dropping the stub of the cig and scuffing it under the toe of my boot. Dad’s headlights turn off.

“I thought the old man liked me,” you say playfully, with a little half-smile, but you know. We both know.

Sure, he tolerates you on hunts, but that’s about the extent to which he tolerates anyone- and that’s including me ‘n Sammy, even if I won’t say that to you. Last time he caught us drinkin’ together this late at night he pulled a gun on you. And when you left, he tucked his gun away and took out his fists.

Sometimes, I think I’d prefer the gun.

“Don’t know if he really likes anyone,” I say, laughing, but it comes out weak- nothin’ really to laugh about, I’m just tryin’ to make it seem better than it is. You see right through me and I know it. “And he sure won’t like… this.” I gesture between us, and you nod.

“See you, then,” you say, and I nod, and for a second I think you might kiss me, but you walk right past me and into the night.

I stare after you as you leave ‘cause I wanted it so bad I can’t think.

#deanlee #dean winchester #lee webb #my writing #ficlet #spn #supernatural #spn fic #a study in pov #dean pov #set nebulously pre-canon #ezra posts

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moondirti · 2 years

Note

Begging you to write pt2 of Brat tamer Mando. 😩

alright, alright. you guys convinced me - I really can't resist hard dom Din. I wrote this one my phone in the car so forgive me for any mistakes!

part one

pairing: Bodyguard!Din Djarin x F!Reader rating: explicit (18+ mdni) word count: 2.1k summary: you act out. din is less than pleased. warnings: brat-taming, flirting, teasing, possessiveness, punishments, manhandling, spanking, pussy slapping, praise, reader isn’t straight.

He’s been taking it slow with you.

It’s not as though the sex isn’t good. It’s great – thirst-quenching, world-shattering. But Din holds back. You can feel it in the way his muscles tense whenever you mouth off; his grip leaves your body tender to the touch but is never harsh enough to bruise. One would think he’d immediately jump at the opportunity to use sex as a venue to air his grievances – like he’s admitted to fantasising about – but he’s unbearably gentle the first few times you fuck. Dipping in with soft kisses and reassuring whispers, his touch as light as air.

You realise it’s because you’ve been holding back, too.

You haven’t lost your spark, per se, you’ve just been spoiled rotten as of late. Why sneak out to cause mischief when all you want is the man of beskar right outside your door? He gives you everything, everything – his tongue, his hands, that deliciously large cock – and you’ve grown pliant. Subservient. He doesn’t react because you haven’t given him any reason to.

The night your father hosts his annual networking gala, you decide to change that fact.

He’s been given strict orders to stick by your side. The guests are all old officials; senators in charge of sectors or planets, candidates for chancellor. On paper, they’re squeaky clean, with a blank criminal history that gets them through screening. But your father knows, Din knows, that’s not the truth of the matter. Politicians lie, cheat and the majority are grotesquely perverted – the two would be damned before they let you get taken advantage of by a wealthy man with sick intentions.

So, Din is to trail behind you all night, just to interfere if things look wrong. That doesn’t mean you can’t have your fun though, especially considering your newfound relationship is still very much a secret.

You wear an A-line gown with a back that plunges to the base of your spine, the dimples just above your ass available for all to see. That’d be enough to drive him up the wall, but you make sure to tailor a leg slit that cuts to your hips for extra measure. It’s the perfect amount of skin to maintain your family’s image while still teasing those around you. You nearly faint with the excitement the latter inspires – Din doesn’t need to know that the only one you care for is him.

The helmet makes it hard to gauge his reaction when you finally step out of your room. You’re buffed and polished, glittering, oils slathered onto your skin to reflect the warm light. But you do catch onto the subtle shift of his weight, how his hands clench tightly, the leather squeaking. When he speaks, his words tear out, rougher than usual – you haven’t heard him this agitated since the day he beat up Synko.

“What are you wearing?” He interrogates with that deep timbre. He makes a move to grab for you, but you manage to dance away before his arms encircle your waist.

You giggle, twirling just out of reach. “My new dress!”

And then you skip away before he can say much else. Something in you is able to place your fleeing as cowardice – you know his presence is enough to dominate you into submission, and you were not done playing just yet.

You snag an available lift before your Mandalorian can catch up, laughing at the sound of his angry snarl as the doors slam shut. You have half a mind to believe that when they inevitably open up again, Din will have run down the several flights of stairs to meet you there. You suppress the shiver that erupts at the thought. It’s impossible, but then again, he’s continuously proven the lines he’s willing to cross for you.

Anticipation flutters in your chest as you make your descent; both for the event ahead and the undoubtedly painful punishments that await you afterwards. When you reach the level on which the gala is being held – twentieth, for its several ballrooms – you’re happy to see that Din is nowhere in sight.

Your glee doesn’t last long, however. As the night drags on, he never makes an appearance.

You feel the weight of his stare on you at all times. It’s searing, the heat of spite, causing phantom boils to bubble onto your exposed skin. But no matter where you look, how trained your eye is to the glint of silver beskar, you cannot spot him. He keeps his promise to your father; he is indeed ensuring your safety, yet it seems that Din has adapted his own game. One that trumps yours by a mile, something sick and twisted and so enticingly dangerous that you can’t help but test his patience.

You preen at the men who take interest in you. They hand you flutes of champagne, large hands skimming down your back. They can never amount to Din – their lecherous quips are too wanton to compare to his careful warnings, their voices not rough enough and their humoured presence a stark contrast to his gravitational pull. But you laugh, and you bite your lip, and you take their boring stories with grace because you know he’s watching. And he knows you know. This silent back-and-forth is too addicting to pass over. Your panties start to slip with the slick you produce.

A woman approaches you at one point, dressed in a caped dress pointed at the shoulders. She introduces herself as Latyl Pavan, one of your father’s associates, and she just so happens to be the most interesting person you’ve come across so far. You’re still all-too-aware of Din’s eye, the stuttering pace of your heart serving as a tangible reminder, but when she asks you to dance, you can forget about it. Somewhat.

She whispers into your ear about the current company, her dark skin pressing to yours, bathed in some coconut concoction, and your cheeks flare with the warmth of her special attention. As Latyl steps in tandem to the music, you lean into her guidance, growing soft, overflowing with the beginning effects of alcohol and complemented self-esteem. You hardly notice when the dance ends, or when she leads you to a secluded corner, her dainty hand rubbing circles onto your shoulder.

“Such a pretty thing. Are you here all alone?” She asks, grabbing two glasses of some unknown beverage from a passing waiter and handing one over to you. You take it, smiling bashfully. A shadow nears in your peripheral; your knowledge on who it is boosts your confidence.

“Seems like it,” You shrug, nudging closer to her muscled form.

“Can I take that as an invitation?” She whispers in response, a nail tracing the edge of your leg slit. Your core broils, you’re actually interested. Technically, you and Din never discussed exclusivity – but if the grunt coming from the unplaced shape next to you is anything to go by, he doesn’t like the idea.

“I don’t see why not–” You begin, but your wrist is promptly grabbed with one gloved hand. Its orange fingertips confirm your suspicions – you melt on the inside.

“Your father needs you.” Din gruffs, pulling you away from the woman without another word. You wave apologetically at her; she just winks back.

Your heels click against tile as you try to keep up with the fuming man ahead of you. He turns into unknown hallways, taking you away from the action of the evening. Music dims, dims, dims, until it’s nothing but echoes that carry with drifts. His clutch on you is firm, solid, breaking capillaries in a way that will undeniably bruise.

“Let me go!” You squirm. Your thrashing earns you another harsh tug, but he doesn’t respond. “You can’t just take me away from the party, Din, you have no right!” You sound pathetically pettish, your voice peaking to girlish screams.

He suddenly pulls you into an empty room, shoving you inwards while he locks the door. The space is dark, but with the benefit of city lights that stream through the large window, you’re able to glean the general shape of chairs and a sole conference table.

The Mandalorian’s harsh grip lifts to your jaw as he pushes you up against a wall. You claw at the flat surface for purchase and come up empty. You cheeks squish inward with the press of his fingers, lips puckering inadvertently. Boldly, you blow a small kiss his way.

His knee finds its place between your legs, driving upwards to nestle between your inner thighs. Your dress travels up with it.

“Explain yourself.” He husks, his visor pinning your wide-eye stare.

“Dunno wha’ you mea– mff,” You try, but his hold on your jaw tightens.

“I’m giving you the chance to dampen the blow, you brat.”

You just wiggle your hips, searching for the edge of his cuisses to rub yourself on. His free hand pins your lower half to the wall, willing you to stop.

“Mmm. Did nothing wrong, though,” You tease. With the way he’s constraining you, you can’t smile, but your eyes must twinkle with the hints of one, for he quickly snaps.

“Alright, that’s it.” He manhandles you onto the nearby table, stomach down, your bottom hanging off the edge as he rucks up your dress. The fabric bunches around your midsection, uncovering your ass to his wolfish attentions.

He’s taken off his gloves, so his bare hands grab fistfuls of flesh, kneading your muscles into any direction he sees fit. You’d hear his groans if you weren’t so occupied with your own breathy pants. He holds you in place by your hips, keeping you from squirming away.

“D-Din–” One hand leaves you. You mistakenly assume he wants to hear you out.

But then the first spank comes with a roaring woosh, colliding with the side of your rear, branding you with its stinging slap.

You screech, kicking outwards. Your feet manage to collide with some part of him, but he quickly tucks your legs between the table and his thighs, dismantling your efforts with one movement and his brute strength.

His calloused palm smoothes over the site of your pain as he bends over your back, his helmet tucking over your shoulder so his modulated voice pitches right by your ear.

“Count.”

You keen.

“One for every person you threw yourself on today.”

Fuck.

Din doesn’t give you a moment's respite after the first one. His hand – large, dry, rough – strikes you in rapid succession, alternating between cheeks, kneading into the shaking flesh when your words falter in stuttered sobs. The skin starts to glow with pain, furnace hot, which triples after every spank.

“AH! S-Seven, p-please– Din,” You reach back to wrap a hand around his wrist, keeping him steady against you.

“Hm? Ready to apologise, ner kar’ta?” He hums, amusement pouring from him in tidal waves. You sniff back the snot and tears that have doubtlessly smeared your makeup by now, and shake your head. Ner kar’ta. He’d told you what it meant after murmuring the syllabic Mando’a with reverence as he ate you out one day. My heart. His use of it now, even as he punishes you, reassures you that you’re okay. He still cares for you.

So, you turn your head, looking at him with a smug grin. “Never.”

He growls.

He actually, genuinely growls.

You clench with need.

You think he’s abandoned his mission to spank you for every flirtatious misdemeanour you’ve engaged in today when Din flips you onto your back, ripping your panties clean off. He instructs you to hold your legs to your chest, and you oblige because, well, you practically salivate at the idea of him fucking you like this. It’d make a snugger fit than usual, his thick cock filling you up to the absolute fullest.

What meets your pussy instead is the sharp crack of a tight blow.

“FUCK,” You shout, trying to twist away from him. If you imagine the spanking hurt, it’s nothing compared to the way he slaps your cunt. The stunning hit of his full, unadulterated power against your most sensitive region is enough to blind you momentarily; lightning shoots through your clit and roots into your gut. A fresh bout of tears escape you.

“Shhh, hush now baby. That’s it, that’s good.” He praises, rubbing a thumb over the bundle of nerves. You shiver, tense with the whiplash of pain to gentle pleasure. “What do you say?”

“Eigh… Eight?” You hiccup. The Mandalorian’s chuckle is a cool balm over your aching self.

“Yes, but not quite. Try again, baby.” His fingers slip, finding the dip in between your soaked folds. Your hole flits, eager to suck his digits in. He doesn't quite finger you, not yet.

“Th-Thank you, sir.” Din croons. “Good. Good girl.”

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