#i’m calling ‘em quick fics | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hyunsvngs · 1 year ago

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𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 - lee minho x fem!reader

wc: 5.8k

cw: this is a piss fic, you have been warned - don't like don't read, established d/s dynamics in a relationship, SMUT MDNI.

synopsis: your boyfriend has something he wants to try in bed. you didn't expect to like it so much.

a/n: like i said before this is a piss fic, if you don't like don't read! thank u to the sweet girl who commissioned this & thank u to my babies may and nessa for proofreading and also my ems <3 i was super nervous about this so i hope u like <3 smut warnings ofc under cut

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sw: PISS, established d/s dynamics, dom!minho, sub!reader, subspace, SERIOUSLY THERE’S PISS, face fucking, oral (m rec), very negotiated kink, minho calls reader a plethora of pet names, nipple play, one (1) face slap, minho’s condescending and MEAN, choking, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, degradation, squirting, reader calls minho sir briefly, brief aftercare but more offscreen!!

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It’s always daunting when Minho gets like this. You know exactly what’s going to go down tonight - you’ve discussed it extensively. You always have to discuss it extensively. Minho is nothing if not a good dom, and there’s rules and regulations that you have to adhere to, even if he is your boyfriend.

It still catches you off guard. He paces across the room to your shared wardrobe, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and exposing his veiny forearms. You’re perched on the bed, the exact way he told you to be in your plain black underwear. The fresh sheets are a welcome coolness on your warm skin. You’re overheating in excitement. You can’t wait.

He’s going to piss on you tonight. He’s going to piss on you tonight, or maybe even in you, he’d said - he wanted to make you well and truly messy. Just the way he liked you. He told you he’d be mean, maybe even meaner than normal, and you’d agreed to it all before climbing into his lap and begging him to take you on the flimsy dining table chair in your kitchen in all of your excitement. He had chuckled, brushing a hand over your head with a teasing little “you want it that bad, huh?”. He still fucked you, so your plan went as hoped.

“I want to talk to you about something before we start, jagi,” His voice is smooth, low in volume, yet you hear every word loudly. You nod in response, and he turns and blinks at you, slow and cat-like. Oh, yeah. You were forgetting yourself already.

You blush in embarrassment of how far gone you are already, and he smiles, soft and barely noticeable. Fond. “Yeah, Min?”

The blush only continues to spread when he finally, finally climbs onto the bed next to you. He’s still in his work clothes, shirt tight on his broad pecs and his trousers tight on his thighs. You try not to stare. You fail, and he chuckles, using two fingers to prop your chin up to look directly at his eyes.

“This scene is a little harder than the other ones we’ve done,” He looks at you. It would feel scrutinising, the way he’s sizing you up, but his eyes are so full of fondness you can’t feel perceived at all - only admired. “I’m a little worried you may fall into subspace. Do you know what that is?”

He’s using his dominant voice on you, you swear. The tone of voice that’s level, not quite monotone but very, very straightforward and firm. Almost strict. It makes you rub your thighs together in need. Your boyfriend is so sexy when he’s like this.

A quick scratch to your chin has you blinking back into reality. Yes. “Yes, I do know what that is. I’ve never done that before though, have I? So I probably won’t now, and-”

“We don’t know that,” He’s firm when he cuts you off, but presses a kiss to your nose nonetheless. “I need to know if you’re okay with me continuing if I notice you getting all floaty, jagi. I won’t if you don’t want me to. This is all in your hands, yeah? You know you run this show.”

He chuckles, lightening the mood, but he’s right. When Minho first introduced you to this, you realised very quickly that despite the dominant being physically in charge, it was definitely the submissive that held the reins. It’s hard giving yourself over to someone so viscerally - it’s a vulnerable state to be in, letting someone decide your limits and decide what’s best for you.

Despite that, you’d let Minho fuck you outside in six foot snow, so you were definitely down for being fucked in subspace.

“Yes. Yeah, I want you to- I think it’d be hot, I think,” You’re babbling already, and Minho smiles again, his teeth glinting in the low light of your lamp. “I think it would be hot if you carried on, and I was like- all fuzzy, and stuff. You know?”

It’s silent for a beat, and then he presses a chaste kiss to your lips. “Cute. Remember I love you, jagi, okay?”

Oh. Oh, you were starting? He normally only said that before you started, and before you can question him, he’s pressing his mouth against yours firmer, harder. It’s messy, the way he dominates your mouth instantly and uses one hand to tangle in your hair, yanking your hair back. You whimper against his lips, and he bites your bottom lip in response, finally moving to press you down to the bed with him on top of you. He starts to trail kisses down your face and your neck, and you can't help but let out a small noise of excitement. Before you can beg him to leave his mark on you, he quickly moves back up to your lips and starts to deepen the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth in an act of possession. You wrap your arms around him and bring him closer, feeling yourself getting a lot more than just worked up.

His chest is muscled, the slightly toned soft muscle that only makes sense on Minho. He’s not heavy on top of you, only a presence where he licks and sucks into your mouth until you’re leaking into your panties. He pulls away, his lips dropping to your neck, and you can’t be anything more than pliant the way you let him use your skin and mark you as his. You are his. Mentally, emotionally, physically - any way he wants you, you’ll let him.

“I love this body,” Minho groans, his voice low and gravelly. “Such a filthy fucking body. You’re gonna let me piss on it, aren’t you?”

You whine, loud and unabashed, and Minho chuckles. It’s a puff of air against the exposed column of your neck and your hips cant up, searching for friction.

“Oh, you are,” His hand moves down to your bra, searching through the lace for your pebbled nipple. The lace is thin, pitch black and almost sheer, and a grin forms on his face when he manages to pinch your nipple meanly. “Look at how excited you are for it. Your nipples are so hard, are you that excited for my piss?”

You try to nod in response, but a quick slap against your cheek using his spare hand has you reeling to try and form words. You’re babbling before you can even think. “Y-Yes! Yes, Minho, I’m excited. I can’t wait, I wanna- I wan’ taste it, will you let me? Please?”

He hums in consideration, yanking down the cups of your bra to expose your tits to him. He was right - your nipples are hard and pebbled, dusky against your flesh, and he ducks down to engulf one in his mouth. His lips are full, plush like pillows, and his tongue darts around your nipple in small kitten licks. Soft, wet, warm. Pliant. His.

Minho’s bunny teeth are quick to bite at the peak, and you whine, back arching up to get more of the painful pleasure. He coos at this, finger running over your areola once when he pulls back from your chest. He sits back on his haunches, fingers deftly making quick use of his belt. The way he pulls the belt from the loops on his trousers have you remembering all the times he’s whipped you with it, and your eyes go blurry. You’re staring directly at the extremely prominent bulge in his trousers as if you somehow have x-ray vision and can see his cock in all its glory already.

“I’m going to fuck your face,” He explains, pushing down the expensive branded boxers to his thighs. His thighs are thick, muscled from years of dance, and you nod at his words despite having your vision solely trained on the bulging muscles. You can’t even keep your attention there for long - his cock springs out, hard and flushed and so big, so thick in the tight ring he forms around the base. The veins look as though they could be practically throbbing beneath the skin with arousal. “I’ll fuck your face, and I’ll piss down your throat. Do you want that? Tell me.”

He’s asking you, and you can’t believe it. Of course you want it, but you respond anyway. “I want it. I want it so bad, Minho. How do you want me? On the floor, on my knees? Or do you-”

“On the floor,” He looks towards the ground, pleased with himself when you heed his commands immediately. You’re quick to dive off of the bed and sink to your knees on the floor, and Minho lets out a fond chuckle before standing in front of you, ever the image of dominance. The hardwood floor doesn’t save your knees, still feeling hard and uncomfortable, and the way the pain bites into your legs has you shifting even more. It turns you on, being used and treated like an object, and being put on the floor to suck cock doesn’t help any. You’re positively ruining your panties by now.

His trousers are pushed down to his ankles, the perfect juxtaposition of black, thick material against his milky skin. His shirt is rolled up just enough for you to see the bottom of his tummy, hairy and soft above his cock. You expect him to keep it on, but you watch in awe as he unbuttons his shirt quickly and throws it to the side. His chest is exposed to you then, all broad muscle and dusky pink nipples against his skin.

He pumps his shaft in his hand a few times for good measure, just barely a few inches from your face, and then he’s tapping the cockhead on your lips. “Open wide. C’mon, kitty cat.”

His tone is condescending, almost patronising, and you hold back a whine. When your lips fall apart, he’s pushing into your mouth before you can even process it. A blistering, feverish pace immediately takes over his hips, and his cockhead is ramming down your throat with only a slight bit of pain beneath all of the pleasure. You try to run your tongue over the tip, to trace the veins with the tip of your tongue, but it’s impossible. He’s using your mouth like he’d use your pussy, unabashed and downright mean.

“Take it,” he grunts, looking ever the ethereal being above you. If you didn’t know him, you’d swear he was an angel - no, a fallen angel, debauched and with black, wiry wings sprouting from his back. Sweat covers the top of his chest, shiny and wet, and his cockhead presses firmly into the back of your throat. Your eyes water with the intense ministrations on your throat, hands aching to reach out and grab onto Minho’s thighs. They stay securely on your own limbs, and Minho groans, his eyes staring down into yours. “Fucking take it for me. Take my cock, dirty kitty. Don’t you dare fucking cry about it.”

You’d swear he was composed if it wasn’t for the way he was looking down at you. Minho’s mostly quiet in bed, only a few sparse noises, but the fire in his eyes is visible.

The sounds in the room are filthy. Your eyes are hazy already with the force that he’s rutting into your mouth, but when his hand goes into your hair, yanking with all of his might, you hear yourself whine between gags and you’re not even trying to. You’re floating, fuzzy where your boyfriend fucks his cockhead into your mouth - you can’t even consider what’s going on, not too out of it but out of it enough to question what’s actually happening around you. Is this what Minho was talking about before? Subspace?

“Oh, Jesus. Are you feeling fuzzy already, kitty?” He pulls his cock out, tapping the cockhead on your bottom lip. A string of drool attaches his cock back to your mouth and he groans in approval, feline eyes narrowing. “Went down so easy for me, huh? Do you think you can take a little more?”

You’re nodding then, subconsciously, but a slight smile on your face. You want more. You need more. You need his piss, wherever on your body that he deems acceptable - it’s like he’s marking you as his territory. It’s such a primitive act that gets you more than just hot under the collar. If he pisses on you, or in you, it’s as if he sees you as an object that’s beneath him, not worth anything more than his piss.

“Good,” He muses, and then his hand is forming a tight ring around his length. It’s throbbing, long and thick where it protrudes from his groin with drops of pearlescent precum, and he presses it past your lips again with a small sigh. “I’ve gotta take a piss, kitty cat. I want you to swallow it all for me, and then you can have some milk in that pussy for being good. How’s that?”

You can’t reply, because he’s already bouncing your head on his shaft. He’s resorted to pulling you up and down on his shaft by your hair this time, not grinding his hips rhythmically into the hot, wet cavern you’ve provided.

“You know, I really thought you’d say no to this,” How the fuck is his voice calm right now? “But then I realised that of course you’d be into it. My filthy little fucking urinal.”

You moan loudly around his shaft. Minho chuckles, and then he’s pulling back again, your throat abused and aching at the alleviation of pressure. His cockhead stays at the entrance of your mouth, and he drops a hand from your hair to pump it a few times, raising an eyebrow at you.

“It’s coming,” He warns. “Are you ready? Are you ready for my piss, filthy bitch?”

You moan, nodding, and when your tongue lolls out of your mouth, Minho lets out a loud groan. It’s primal, and you watch silently as he shakes his head and flutters his eyes closed to try and gain some control of himself. He runs his finger over the slit of his cockhead, and then he’s pushing the tip past your lips again and - oh.

His piss begins leaking out of his tip, a slow and steady stream that tastes surprisingly a lot like you expected. It’s purely Minho, raw and unfiltered, and you whine and whimper and let him fill your mouth up with his piss. It feels filthy, your pussy positively dripping through your panties and onto the floor by now. The stream floods down your throat even as you continue to gulp it down greedily, and you allow your hands to finally find purchase on his thighs, fingernails digging into the muscle. He allows it, his hands both moving back to your hair to bob you on his tip just a little to get the rest of his piss out.

Minho pulls out of your mouth with a soft noise, his eyes staring down at you almost menacingly. You dip your tongue into his piss-slit once more, moaning at the remnants of the taste, and then you’re whining, loud and un-muffled.

“Minho,” You say, voice high and needy. You feel as though you want to say so much, you want to beg so much, but nothing is coming out of your mouth. You’re so fucking turned on you feel like you could die. “P-Please. Please, please. I can’t, I can’t, please, please-”

He positively growls. You’re pulled up by two hands underneath your armpits and thrown onto the bed less than unceremoniously, his body sidling up next to you. He’s kicked his trousers off, you notice, body warm and firm next to you.

“Was it that good? Dirty little thing,” He hums, tongue licking one fat stripe up your neck. “C’mere. Let me taste it on you.”

Minho’s lips are firm against yours, and his hands are anything but gentle as he slides them down your body. It’s like he’s igniting you with electricity, every area of skin that he touches feeling warm and too sensitive. His lips trail down your neck, leaving another trail of fire behind them. You’re pliant, letting him pull you by your hair and your throat into his dominating, overwhelming kisses.

His fingers reach your panties, and his finger dips underneath the waistband. You gasp, holding your breath and wishing, praying that he’ll push his whole hand into your underwear, but he simply pulls his finger back with a small amused puff of air.

“Hnnfg, Minho, Minho, please, I don’t, I can’t-“

Minho leans over you more then, his eyes dark and half-lidded when he stares into yours. His gaze is all-consuming, but there’s a slight hint of a teasing smile on his lips. “Jesus, kitty. Be quiet,” His voice is low, amused, until all signs of a smile drop from his face upon his fingers finally delving into your underwear. His forearm obscures your vision, muscled and veiny, but you can feel the way your wetness immediately drenches his fingertips. His eyes flicker from your face to your core in awe, lips slightly parted. “Fuckin- shit. Jagi, tell me this is a joke. You’re fucking drenched.”

You are. His fingers smear around in your wetness, spreading it all around your folds. He drags his middle and ring finger down to your hole, wet and sloppy, and you look at him with pleading eyes. You’re not sure you could talk even if you wanted to.

Minho simply smiles that toothy smile that you love, eyes crinkling. You’re confused - he’s being nice - until he’s shoving both fingers into you at once. It was a stretch you hadn't been prepared for, and you jolt with a squeal, hands going up to grip onto his forearm.

“Do you remember what I said before, jagi?” He muses, fingers curling up into that spot that makes you whine. You do whine, legs thrashing around and toes curling against the sheets. “If you have any in there, I’m fucking having it. I want you to piss all over my cock before I fuck you with it, remember? I want you to treat you like the dirty little thing you are.”

You nod, brain still fuzzy and way too overwhelmed. Your pussy squelches loudly around his digits, and his spare hand wraps around your throat in a dangerous grip. It’s not too hard, but definitely there, and you whimper in approval.

Your eyes roll back into your head at the pace he sets against your g-spot, and after a brief, tight squeeze, Minho removes his hand from your throat in favour of using two fingers on your clit along with his harsh fingering. His arm is curled underneath your waist in a position that must be painful to him, but you ignore it in favour of your own pleasure.

You feel like you could scream, and you do let out some strangled noise that sounds nothing at all like you. Just when you think it can’t get any worse - or any better, actually - he slides another finger in, stretching you out with three of his digits. You’re dripping down onto his knuckles and you wail, starting to hump against his hand. You’re going to cum embarrassingly quickly.

“You better be fucking thinking of asking for permission, bitch,” Minho hisses in your ear. You moan in response, nodding. Of course you’ll ask. Something about your boyfriend just makes you want to be good. You want to obey him so he continues to give you such nice things. “You don’t make the decisions. I'm the one fucking that hole with my fingers right now, I'll be the one who says you can cum.”

His fingers thrust into you faster, if it was possible, and you thrash around. The movement brings Minho’s cock against your thigh, and you gasp at the realisation that he’s next to you, naked, in all his glory. Your fingernails still dig painfully into his forearm, but he doesn’t seem phased. “Minho, Minho- I’m gon’- please, please, please, I wanna cum, let me come, it hurts, I-“

“Oh, I know, I know. It just feels too good, doesn’t it? You can’t even fucking control yourself, writhing around like that,” He groans, eyes fixated on your face. You know your expression is screwed up in pleasure, eyes watering from the feeling of his fingers inside of you. His fingers begin to slide around on your clit rather than provide any direct pressure due to how wet you’re getting, but you still hump against the sensation with gratitude. You’d never have anything other than gratitude when Minho’s being so nice like this. “You’re behaving like a fucking whore. Beg me for it. Beg me to let a fucking whore like you cum all over my fingers, tell me how good it feels.”

He starts kissing up your neck again with the open-mouthed, wet movements, and you feel like you’re about to burst. Just a little more. Just a little more, and you can, you just have to will your brain to speak. “I-I love sir's fingers, fuck, I love when sir fingers me like this- fuck, sir I'm gonna- can't hold it- I, hnng, I can’t, I don’t- pleasepleaseplease-”

Minho pulls away from your neck with an alarmed little snort. “Sir? God, you are far gone,” He points out, but then he’s pinching your clit meanly with his fingers. It makes you hump his hand a little faster and whine a little louder. It’s quiet for a beat, and then he’s sighing as if he’s annoyed. You swear you catch him rolling his eyes through your blurry vision. “Okay, fine. Go on then, if you want to cum so badly. Cum.”

With one word, you feel like your whole world is falling apart. A gush of wetness bursts from you and all over the bed, probably soaking Minho too. Your ears are ringing and you can feel the tears brimming in your eyes begin to fall, fat streaks of wetness painting your skin. His fingers don’t slow, but he’s groaning in your ear now, coaching you along. He pulls his fingers out, rubbing over your clit with a wet hand that only made you let out another gush everywhere. You were sure you'd screamed.

You wail and thrash through your orgasm, and then you’re panting, body dropping back onto the bed. You don’t register Minho groaning, licking his fingers clean - you only realise he’s moved when he’s on top of you, yanking your soaking wet underwear down your legs and finally unclasping your bra. Your hands go above your head, pliant and willing, letting him take control. You’re fucked dumb by now, anyway. You’d be no use.

“If you had all that in there for me, you have some piss in there,” He muses, and you whine, shaking your head.

“D’nt need to pee, Min,” You insist, head lolling back on the sheets. You’re pliant, and Minho grabs your chin with his hand, making you face him. His ears are burning a shade of delectable pink, the flush travelling over his chest and making him look almost embarrassed. You know this state of Minho all too well, though. He’s so horny he feels like he’s about to explode.

“You do,” He responds, quick as a flash. You whimper as he presses his cockhead into your folds, just barely teasing the ruddy, flushed tip at your hole. Your hands move to grip onto the sheets next to your head, and just when you’re sure he’s going to put it in, Minho leans down, and then his hand is pressing on the bottom of your stomach. You wail, shaking your head. Minho chuckles knowingly. “You need to piss, don’t you?”

You do. Embarrassingly quickly, just from him pressing on your bladder. “I- it’ll make a mess, Min, I can’t, I can’t-”

“I want it to make a fucking mess,” He scoffs, pressing harder. He continues to drag his cock through your sopping wet folds with his other hand, his feline eyes staring at you with a renewed fire burning behind them. He’s daring you to disobey. You would never disobey him. “I want everything you have to give me. Piss all over my cock. Do it.”

You clench your thighs, stomach tensing. It doesn’t take much, only a slight rubbing of Minho’s hand on your tummy and you’re pissing. The stream erupts from you in a messy spurt, and Minho groans, pumping his cock to coat it in your mess. You whine, trying to shift your hips to catch his cock inside of you, but the mess you’re making ensures that it’s too slippery to do so.

“Stay still, you’ll get it in a second,” Minho mumbles, hand tightening around the head of his cock. It’s substantially lubed now, but he still continues to pump it, hand easing up on your stomach. Something about it has your mouth watering, staring at his cock and wondering how it tastes. Maybe he’ll let you suck it clean next time, let you taste his cock mixed with your own piss. “That’s it, kitty. Get sir’s cock nice and wet with your piss. Dirty little thing.”

When the stream finally finishes, you shift against the sheets, soaking wet and definitely a lot more aroused than you were previously. There’s still only one thing on your mind. “Can- can I have it now, please, please?”

Minho nods, his cheeks blazing red. He’s losing his composure. “Yeah. God, yeah, kitty. You can have it, c’mere,” He sighs, finally pushing the head of his cock inside of you. It slides inside easily with the wetness of your pussy and the mess you’d made on him, his thick shaft stretching you out and making you moan out for him. You catch sight of Minho’s eyes rolling back into his head, a long, drawn out noise leaving his lips. “Fuck, this is so fucking dirty. You’re filthy, letting me do this.”

No. You’re not, are you? Are you dirty? “Filthy?” You question, completely in bliss at the feeling of him finally inside you. You’ll be filthy if it means he’ll fuck you. Minho chuckles, and then his hips start to move, a sinuous grind against yours. The noises your pussy is making are beyond debauched, wet, slapping sounds from how soaking wet you are. You whine, bucking your hips up, and Minho lets you, gripping your hips to pull you off of the mattress.

“I’m gonna go harder, okay? I want you to take it for me, all of it,” His voice is close, leaning down to whisper it against the skin of your neck. You nod eagerly, and he pulls your thighs up to rest your ankles on his shoulders. The change in position has his cock hitting you deeper and you gasp, fingers moving to grip on his biceps. He sits back slightly, pulling you closer to him, and then he’s pounding into you. With little to no buildup, you can’t help but squeal, your pussy gushing around his fat length. “You love this, don’t you? My cock, covered in your piss, stretching your little cunt out. You love being filthy for me.”

“Hhnnfg, hhng, Min, Min, Min, you made me pee, you-”

Minho scoffs, hand threading into your hair. He wraps your hair around his fist and pulls, bent half over you while he pounds your pussy into oblivion. “Don’t make stupid fucking excuses for yourself. I can see it in your eyes, you love being like this for me.”

You whine, tears brimming in your eyes again uncontrollably. You can’t do anything but just lay there, pliant and gripping onto his biceps for him to stretch your pussy out with his veiny fucking cock. It feels almost too good, too overwhelming. The ridges of his shaft are pressing against your walls, causing a delectable friction that has you clenching down on every outwards motion from him. It’s as if your pussy doesn’t want him to leave, and you don’t want him to leave, pulling him close by his arms every time he thrusts inside of you.

Minho pushes your thighs apart, and then he’s bending you into a sort of mating press. Your legs rest on his upper biceps and his body folds you in half for him, making you whine at the stretch on your muscles. You’re loud, embarrassingly so, little “ah, ah, ah”’s leaving your mouth with every thrust. The change in position allows him to hit your cervix with his length, long and throbbing inside of you, and you’re only louder and more pathetic for him.

“Can you hear that, kitty cat?” He whispers, and you hold your breath. Once you’ve stopped making so much noise, you can hear it - the sound of your pussy is even louder, wet and messy and when you look down, his cock is soaking with you. With your piss or your slick, you’re not sure, but it has you clenching down deliciously anyway. “I’m fucking your own piss into you, and you’re whining like a little bitch.”

You can’t even make sense of what he’s saying. Your previous slight fuzziness has morphed into full blown floating, and you think you’re crying, but you’re not sure. All you can hear is your own noises, loud and desperate while he ensures your pussy never forgets the shape of his cock. “Ah, ah, I don’t- sir, I don’t, I can’t, I don’t know- ah, oh, I can’t-”

“Ah, fucking hell,” Minho hisses, gritting his teeth. You watch in disappointment as he pulls his cock out of you, forming a tight ring around the base with his fingers. “I need to cum inside you. I need to give you your milk, kitty cat, c’mon. Flip over for me.”

He tells you to do it, but helps you anyway. You feel his hands go to your hips to flip you over, and then you’re face down, and some part of you finds the strength to push your hips up to present your pussy for him. But, milk? You’ve been good enough for that?

He sinks back inside you, his cock slick and fat and too much for your little pussy. “There you go, jagi. Biiig stretch, feel it,” He moans, and you push your hips back on him easily. In this position, your lips are parted and you can feel yourself drooling up a puddle on the sheets. It adds to the mess, filthy with piss and slick and sweat, and you want Minho to lick it all up and spit it in your mouth. He immediately resumes his punishing pace, hips slapping against your ass with every thrust and hitting that delicious spot inside you so well. “Fuckin’ tight pussy, ah, it’s so good.”

“H- haa, Minho, have I been good?” You question, eyes blurry and bottom lip slick with your own spit. Minho groans, deep and loud, reverberating through your whole body. He knows you need reassurance, and he nods, a little smile on his face despite his lust-filled, half-lidded eyes.

“You’ve been so good. So good I’m giving you my cum, yeah? Gonna breed that little pussy, filled it with your piss already, needs my cum now,” He’s babbling, which is a sure sign that he’s close - but you can’t even fathom it in your state. “Little girl, kitty cat, so good for me, c’mere.”

You don’t move, but Minho slinks one hand around your hip to rub at your clit. The added pleasure has you jolting with a whine, and Minho lets out an amused puff of air at your reaction. His fingers slide around your clit wet and imprecise, but it’s enough to have you hurtling towards your second orgasm. His cockhead slams against your g-spot, bordering on painful, but the sensation only adds to the throes of bliss he has you tumbling through.

“Min, Min, Min, it’s- ‘s so good, so good, so big, so- Min, Min, I g’ta-”

“You can cum whenever, jagi. Give it to me, I want it,” His voice is higher, more desperate, and you nod eagerly. He sidles over your back, his sweaty chest pressed to your skin, and then he’s pressing his lips against yours.

It’s less of a kiss and more of a messy exchange of spit and breathing into each other's mouths. Minho’s tongue slides against yours as he continues to rub messy circles around your clit, and before you know it, you’re cumming around his cock with a sharp gasp of pleasure against his lips. He swallows your noises, finally engulfing your mouth with his, and you moan and sigh freely through gushing all over his length, the electric feeling making your toes curl.

Minho envelops your hair tightly with his spare hand, thrusting harder and faster, his breathing becoming ragged as he approaches his climax. With a broken whine, you feel his cum fill you up, thick and hot and heavy.

He flops on top of you with a sigh, his body weight a welcome presence for you. You ignore the feeling of the sheets beneath you in favour of closing your eyes and humming contentedly. You’re still floating, but it’s calmer now, softer. It feels like you’re on a cloud. “So good, Min.”

“Yeah?” Minho grins, his hand now stroking softly through your hair in favour of yanking on it. “You did so good for me, jagi. You were so, so good, made me cum so hard.”

“You made me cum hard, too,” You respond, opening one eye to see his face over your shoulder. His cheeks are flushed, hair sweaty and floppy over his eyes, but he has a blissed out smile on his face. When he catches sight of you looking at him, he smiles, and the sight of his bunny teeth has your heart singing. How can he look so cute after fucking you like that? Before you can say anything else, you yawn, and Minho giggles. “‘M sleepy.”

“Bath first, jagi,” He coos, kissing your hairline. “My sweet girl. Let’s get you nice and clean and then we’ll nap.”

“Mm, okay,” Minho hops off of you and you stretch out leisurely like a cat, your body sticky and defiled. You hear him tinkering around the room behind you, humming a tune to himself, and you smile fondly. “Love you, Min.”

“I love you too, sweet girl.”

#juno's fics ♡#lee know smut #lee minho x reader #lee minho smut #lee minho fanfiction #lee know x reader #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids scenarios #stray kids smut #skz smut #PISS!

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months ago

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Just Friends: Isn't It Fun?

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

masterlist

Summary: You make a new friend.

It’s giving

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You hum as you come up the walk of your building. It isn’t in the best location. In the dark, it’s scarier as a shadow overhangs the door beneath the awning. You reach into your knapsack, hanging from one shoulder, as you eke out the tune to Easy Street offkey.

As your keys jingle, a shape pops out of the bushes and you scream, throwing the keyring as you turn to sprint back down the pavement. You’re caught from behind as a familiar chuckle rolls up into the moonlit sky. You grunt and elbow Bucky as you realise the trick he’s pulled.

“Ah, why would you do that?” You wriggle until he lets you go.

You face him and try to snarl but you’re so relieved it’s just him, you can’t help but smile.

“Just having some fun. At your expense,” he chuckles and bends to pick up the keys. “Can I give you some advice, dreamy?” He raises your keys and holds them so one points between his fingers. “Keep your keys out, hold em like this and if some creep jumps out of the bushes, stab em good.”

“Stab-- Buck,” you shake your head. “I can’t do that.”

“You can if it’s life or death,” he swings the keys around to hang from his thick fingers, “here.”

“What-- what are you even doing here?”

“Huh. You didn’t let me ask my question first,” he huffs as he stands back and waves you past. “Why didn’t you tell me you were working late?”

“Well, firstly, you got lots going on,” you say. “And I didn’t think of it. I’m fine.”

“Fine, I could be a real bad guy waiting for you out here in the dark,” he taunts.

“But you’re not. So now my turn, why are you here?”

“Well, I was wandering by on my way to see a Buster Keaton marathon and thought maybe you’d be up for it...”

“Tonight? Right now?”

“I see,” he grabs the door as you opens it and holds it, “you’re too busy. Or maybe you’re too good for me.”

You enter and he follows. It’s that familiarity that you just sort of fell into with him. He’s like a wise big brother, even if he really is older than your grandpa. It’s the most unexpected bonds that are the strongest.

“No, not at all, Mr. Hero,” you climb the stairs as he stays a step behind, his hand on the railing right by yours.

“Ugh, why doesn’t this place have an elevator?” He whines.

“I thought the serum would give you extra strong legs,” you toss over your shoulder.

“Whatever.” He clucks, “so how about it? You wanna fall asleep in the theatre with me, dreamy?”

“Dream-- why do you call me that?” You head down towards your door.

“You got your head in the clouds. Also, when you watch movies, you get this look in your eyes, like you’re living on screen. Dreamy. See.” He explains.

“Mm,” you grumble.

“You don’t like it? I put up with Buckaroo.”

“That was once and it was a slip-up,” you unlock your door. “Fine, I’ll go with you since you don’t have any other friends.”

“I have friends.”

“Sure you do,” you snort and turn to give him a playful wink. You put your keys and bag down on the tall table. “You and Cap, the superfriends. Heroes and buddies til the end—whoa!”

You hit the shoe rack and stumble, landing on your ass. Bucky is quick enough to save you but he doesn’t. He watches smugly and cackles as your cheeks burn up.

“Not funny,” you pout.

“Oh, it is very funny,” he approaches and offers his hand. “How’s that humble pie taste?”

“Fine. I was being a meanie. I admit it but you got my adrenaline up. I can’t help it.”

“Ha, yeah, that was good. You shoulda seen the look on your face. And that noise you made.” He hauls you up as his vibranium thumb rubs between your knuckles. “Ayeeeee!”

“I don’t sound like that.”

“You do.” He grins. You scowl and he laughs again. “You know I love that face. The day you actually get mad at me, I’ll be down on my knees, dreamy.”

“Ugh, you are such a...” you let the sentence trail off and the dimple stays in in his cheek as he crosses his arms.

“I’m a what?”

“Nothing.”

“No, say it,” he goads.

“No.”

“Come on, I can handle it. You know, I got hit by a truck the other day, I think I can take a few words.”

“Hit by a truck? Bucky?” You squeal. “Are you okay?”

“Ah, look at me. I’m fine. Not a scratch. That you can see,” he shrugs. “So what am I? Tell me.”

“No,” you turn your nose up.

“Say it. You’ll feel better.”

“It’s... not nice.”

“Come on,” he unfolds his arms and flutters his fingers at you, “I am trained in torture.”

“No,” you grab his hands, his skin rough, “no tickles.”

“So, tell me.”

“Not fair,” you struggle to keep his hands away from your sides.

“Almost...” he wiggles his fingertips a half-inch from your middle.

“Brat! You’re a brat!” You step back, out of his reach. “Okay, and if you keep being one, you can go to the movies alone.”

He laughs and grips his hips in victory, “wow, you know, I’ve actually never got that one. Creative.”

“Right, well, I can’t sit in the theatre in this get-up,” you look down at your frilly plaid overall dress and white blouse.

“I didn’t get to mention that yet. It’s a choice, as the young ones say.”

You cringe, “it’s my work uniform.”

“Uniform?” He squints.

“Don’t, okay? I get enough guff from the customers.”

“Guff? Oh, that’s language I understand.”

“Ergh,” you stomp your foot. “You are so... so... old.”

You turn and march away. He laughs and you turn into your bedroom. He just loves to tease you and despite your efforts, he always gets to you. At least he’ll have to be quiet during the movie.

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #series #just friends #drabble #mcu #marvel #winter soldier #captain america #avengers

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creamflix · 10 days ago

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toji fushiguro x female reader; heavy, heart-crushing angst, not a lot of comfort. reader is toji's second wife, megumi's step-mom. concept inspired by @/yunymphs nsfw fic, off your shoulders — masterlist here ☆

marriage is supposed to be a blessing, a bond that seals two lives into one, a promise of belonging.

you’d always dreamed of it.

sharing every first moment with someone — the first kiss as newlyweds, the first lazy morning dance in the kitchen, the first time lying side by side, tangled in each other. you’d imagined a life full of firsts, a life that would feel like you’re writing a story together, each page a piece of both of you.

but with toji, the man you love and who loves you, it feels like stepping into the middle of a book already written.

he’s had his firsts, some so precious that traces of them linger like shadows in your home. and you try — god, you try — to let that be enough, to love him and his son, megumi, with all the warmth and devotion you can muster. yet some days, you feel like you’re just outside their world, looking in.

it’s in the everyday moments, these small interactions that remind you of everything they had before you came along. moments like this morning, when you’re up early making breakfast, hoping to surprise toji with something special. you’re chopping vegetables, humming softly to yourself, trying to imagine the look on his face when he comes in, maybe pulls you close and says you don’t have to go through the trouble. you’ve seen couples do that — little gestures to remind each other they’re together.

you want that, too.

but as you start to crack an egg into the pan, you hear megumi calling from down the hall. “dad, where are my soccer cleats?”

your heart clenches. before you can even move to help, toji’s already calling back, voice easy, like it’s a scene they’ve played out a hundred times. “try under the stairs, where your mom used to keep ‘em.”

his mom. megumi’s mom.

the woman who came before you, whose shoes you will never be able to fill.

the words hang in the air, chilling. you place the egg down and pause, the silence settling heavy on your shoulders. you don’t hate her, not in the slightest — you’ve only ever heard lovely things about her. if anything, you’re grateful to her for the habits, routines, the sense of belonging she built with them, for raising megumi to be as kind as he is.

but still, there’s a sting every time she’s mentioned, a reminder that no matter how much you love toji, a part of him will always belong to her.

maybe that’s normal, you tell yourself, shaking off the thought. you grab the spatula, focusing on the way the eggs sizzle in the pan, trying to calm the knot that’s forming in your stomach.

“i’m… making breakfast, by the way,” you call out, trying to keep your voice light. maybe this will be the moment toji notices, realizes you’re trying to make him smile in your own way.

“yeah, thanks, babe,” he says from the hall. he’s already moved on, ruffling megumi’s hair as they laugh about something you can’t quite hear.

right, you think, fighting the wave of hurt that sweeps over you.

maybe that’s just the way it is.

you stare down at the breakfast you prepared, feeling a pang of something deeper than you’d care to admit. you’re doing your best to fit in, to add to the life he’s built, but sometimes, it feels like nothing more than an afterthought. it’s silly, really — you know they care about you, know toji chose you because he loves you.

but love doesn’t always erase what came before.

and it’s not his fault that his past is so deeply woven into their present, into your present.

by the time they wander into the kitchen, you’ve already set out the plates, adding a smile to mask the ache twisting inside you. megumi gives you a small nod, a muttered “thanks,” while toji walks over, planting a quick kiss on your cheek. “looks good,” he says with that lazy smirk, and you feel the flutter of warmth, the one that always ignites when he shows even the smallest affection. but it quickly fades as he moves back to his son, launching into an old joke that you don’t understand.

you sit down across from them, feeling the laughter spill around you, each chuckle a reminder of the bond they share. you know it’s unreasonable to feel left out; after all, you’ve only been a part of their lives for a fraction of the time.

and they are good to you. they include you in most things, make an effort to make you feel like part of the family.

but there are these subtle moments, these glances, these familiar gestures, that you can never quite touch.

you watch as toji reaches over, ruffling megumi’s hair, that same fond smile lighting his face. and it’s like watching them dance to a song you can’t hear. a piece of you aches to ask, where do i fit into this?

“you two are adorable,” you say, almost to yourself, hoping they hear the love in your voice despite the sadness resting there.

you can’t say the words that sit heavy in your chest, the longing to belong to them in a way that feels real and whole. instead, you keep your gaze on your plate, focusing on the small bite of eggs you’ve managed to lift to your lips, the only sound in your head the quiet plea that maybe one day, this feeling will pass.

maybe one day, watching them from afar will stop hurting so much.

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no-144444 · 1 month ago

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opposite's attract, right?- g.russell

Day 19 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist

summary: you have a pretty bad track record when it comes to being forgetful...

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You were one to forget things, everyone knew that. You’d forget your phone in almost every room, you’d forget where you put your shoes everyday, well, you’d forget your own head if it wasn’t glued on. People sometimes teased you about it, telling you that it was abnormal to be so forgetful, you’d ever had boyfriends break up with you over it, saying you were too much. George didn’t seem to mind. Obviously, yes there were certain occasions where it would be great if you two didn’t have to run around the house to try and find an earring, or your wallet, or whatever, but he wouldn’t trade the bright smile you give him every time he finds something for you, for the world.

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One: forgetting keys

“Baby!” you called out to him.

“Yes, my love?” he answered, coming down the stairs.

“Do you know where my keys are? I just can’t fucking find them and-”

“Do you remember what you were doing when you last had them?” he asked, having a method of making you remember.

You shook your head. “I could’ve sworn I put them in the bowl after coming in from work last night…”

“Where was the last place you remember having them?”

“My car,” you shrugged. “But I could’ve sworn I brought them in.”

He sighed and slipped on his shoes, going out to your driveway and finding your keys on the passenger seat of your car. “Found ‘em,” he smiled.

“For fuck’s sake,” you groaned. “I’m sorry.”

He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead, placing the keys in your hand. “It’s alright, just don’t forget them tonight, yeah?”

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Two: forgetting a skirt

You rushed around the hotel room, quickly trying to gather all of your belongings before you left for the paddock. You were wearing some outfit that Tommy Hilfiger had sent over for you to walk in wearing, and you actually liked it this time.

“Baby?” George smiled as he watched you jump around the room trying to find various items. “Missing something?”

“Yeah, do you have my watch-?”

“Baby, look at yourself,” he chuckled.

You turned to him. “Is this your weird way of telling me I look good? Thanks?”

He snaked a hand around your waist and held you close. “Baby, you look gorgeous, but I think you’re missing an item of clothing.”

Your mouth dropped open. You ran over to the mirror to find that you in fact had forgotten to put on your skirt over the black tights you had on. You’d even put on your jacket and everything, getting completely ready to leave the room.

George laughed heartily behind you, snapping a picture to post on his story later.

“It’s not that funny,” you mumbled, pulling it on, your ego less than intact.

He placed a hand on your cheek. “It’s hilarious, sorry baby.”

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Three: forgetting an entire suitcase in the airport

“Babe, where’s my bag?” you questioned, coming back from the bathroom. To be fair, you were both pretty seasoned travellers, considering he was an F1 driver and you worked as a mechanic. He looked around his bags and his heart dropped. “Did someone take it?”

He groaned. “Where was the last place you had it?” You bit your lip. “I think back at security…”

He chuckled again, getting up and stretching. “I’ll go find it.”

You pressed a kiss to his cheek, slightly embarrassed by your own forgetfulness. “Thanks baby."

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Five: forgetting where you put pregnancy tests

You sat excitedly, waiting for George to come home. It had been a shitty weekend for you, spending most of it with your head in a toilet. After a week of non-stop nausea and vomiting, your friends finally convinced you to take a pregnancy test… and it was positive. Honestly, you were elated. George and you had been married a year, and you weren’t actively trying, but you didn’t exactly try not to. You knew he’d be happy, since he’d always wanted kids, and you knew how well he treated them, considering his ‘uncle duties’.

The door opened and a heavy sigh came from his lips. “Baby, I’m home!” he called out to the house. It had been a pretty good weekend for him, p4 in the race wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t where he wanted to be. He wanted to be at home with you, testing out his sneaking suspicion. Since you’d gotten sick he’d thought about the very real possibility of you being pregnant, which honestly, made him ecstatic. He wanted to be a dad, of course, but more importantly, he wanted to be a dad and have you as the children's mother.

“I’m in here!” you called back, searching around for the tests. You could’ve sworn you put them somewhere here…

He rushed in, pregnancy tests in hand. “Is this real?” He asked, beaming.

“Fuck! I left them out in the hall?” you pouted.

“Baby, we’re pregnant?” he asked, excitement rising.

You nodded, a bright smile spreading across your face. “Yeah baby, we are.”

He cheered, jumping up and down with you in his arms. He was going to be a dad. You were going to be a mother. What more could someone ask for?

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

fic-tober masterlist

taglist: @anotherapollokid @theseerbetweenus @simbaaas-stuff @5sospenguinqueen @yootvi

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joeys-babe · 11 months ago

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Joey B blurbs: Isn’t She Lovely

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Summary: Joe brings the twins with him to one of his press conferences, but all Miles seems to want is ‘Momma’.

Warnings: Fluff

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine Universe: Into The Mystic

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*No particular date for this fic!*

(Joe’s pov)

“Joe, my mom’s calling. Can you take the boys with you?” - you

“To my conference??” - Joe

y/n, Tyson, and Miles came over to Paycor today to watch us practice.

Afterward, I and a couple of the other guys stayed back to play football with the kids. The guys made a few jokes after Tyson successfully threw a spiral at two years old. I thought it was accidental, but Ja’marr and Tee swore it was the ‘Burrow gene’.

Now that almost everyone had left the stadium, y/n and the twins were allowed to come into the locker room with me.

y/n got on to me about how messy my locker was. I told her it was fine, but Tee made a ‘Happy wife, happy life’ joke saying I should clean it.

In the end, I knew I would end up doing it anyway to please her because that woman had me wrapped around her finger. She has since high school.

Currently, I was just about to step into the media room when y/n came rushing up to me, the twins behind her, saying that her mom sent a text saying call me ASAP.

Zac had just walked out from his conference, and he heard our conversation.

“You’re allowed to take ‘em in if you want to. I know you would rather be with them than have someone else watch them.” - Zac

“Yeah, okay. Thanks.” - Joe

“No problem, kid.” - Zac walked off

y/n stood in front of me, her phone still ringing, and I made a split-second decision.

“Go ahead, I’ll take ‘em, baby.” - Joe

“Thank you, you're the best, Joe.” - you

She looked around to see if anyone was present, and when there wasn't anyone, she pressed a quick peck to my lips.

I watched her speedwalk down the hall toward the women's bathroom to have some privacy, and I bent down to the twin's level.

“You guys have to go in there with me for my press conference, okay? You know those videos you watch of me with Mommy where the people ask me questions?” - Joe

“Yeh!” - Tyson

“You guys are gonna sit on my lap for one, okay? If you wanna leave at any point tell me.” - Joe

“Ok, Dada.” - Tyson

“What about you Miles? Sound good?” - Joe

“Sound great, Daddy.” - Miles

I stood up and picked them both up, one in each arm, and walked into the media room.

It was kinda funny watching the reporter’s faces turn to shock. They knew I was a reserved, closed-off person, and that I hated the media, so for me to bring my kids in here was surprising to them.

Pulling my chair out, I sat down and situated the boys on my lap. One sat on each leg.

Tyson laid his head on my shoulder while Miles was looking around, trying to figure everything out.

“How’s it goin’.” - Joe

Everything was silent.

“What’s this?” - Reporter 1

“A one-time thing.” - Joe chuckled

Everyone in the room laughed before a reporter spoke up.

“Who are these cuties?” - Reporter 2

“They're my two-year-old twins. Wanna say your names?” - Joe

I almost laughed as Miles immediately lept forward and grabbed the mic.

“I’m Miles.” - Miles

His voice was super loud in the speakers from how close he was to the mic, and I couldn't help but bust out laughing.

Eventually, I pulled Miles back into my lap and nudged Tyson. He silently shook his head.

“This is Tyson. He's my little mini-me and doesn't like the media like his daddy.” - Joe

The room laughed again before I continued talking.

“You guys can interact with the boys for a little bit but I'm here to talk football.” - Joe

For the first time since I walked in, the room fell silent, till Miles spoke up.

“Momma!” - Miles

“Someone wants his momma.” - Reporter 3 laughed

“Yeah. She’s on the phone, which is why I had to bring ‘em in here.” - Joe

“Momma?” - Miles looked up at Joe

“She’s on the phone, buddy. If you guys can't already tell, he's a momma’s boy. He’s more like her than me personality-wise.” - Joe

“So he’s social?” - Reporter 2 jokes

I laughed as I nodded my head, finding his dig at me to be funny.

“Momma!” - Miles whined

“Guys, excuse me, but I'm probably gonna have to call my wife.” - Joe

This was the most unorganized thing I've ever done.

Pulling my phone out to call y/n, she answered pretty fast.

“Hello? Are you still in your conference?” - you

“Yes, but can you come get Miles? He wants you like bad.” - Joe

“Oh yeah, of course. I’ll be right there.” - you

“Okay, good. See you in a sec.” - Joe

“I won't say I love you, so you don't have to say it back. I know you don't want that being picked up on the mic.” - you laughed

“I love you too, bye.” - Joe smiled

“What?!” - you

I hung up just after that, not caring that I said it right into the mic.

“She’s coming to get this one.” - Joe

I nodded at Miles, then realized he was waving directly at a female reporter.

Just a few seconds went by before the media room door opened and y/n walked in.

She looked at me, unsure of what to do, so I flicked my head telling her to come in my direction.

y/n walked up the platform steps and took Miles from my lap, who was smiling from ear to ear.

“Do you wanna go with Momma too?” - Joe

Tyson shook his head no and sat up, now facing the room of seated reporters.

I leaned the mic away from my mouth and whispered to y/n.

“Thanks, Mama. You look beautiful by the way. I'll see you after this is over.” - Joe grinned

She grinned at me, her cheeks flushing as she situated Miles on her hip before waking away.

When I faced the reporters and fixed the mic back to point toward my face, they all had smiles on their faces.

“Did… did you guys hear that?” - Joe

All at once they all said yes, yeah, mhm, yup.

My cheeks turned red from embarrassment, this was an absolute trainwreck.

“So… Tyson, what can you tell us about your daddy? What does he do at home?” - Reporter 3

“Uhm…” - Tyson sighed

All of the reporters laughed, finding it so funny that Tyson just pulled something so characteristically me.

“He is just like you!” - Reporter 1

“What do I do at home, Ty?” - Joe

“Kiss Mommy.” - Tyson giggled

I immediately groaned and covered my face with my hand. Tyson kept on laughing, and so were the reporters.

“I’m getting exposed right now.” - Joe

“We, Uhm, pway foot…ball.” - Tyson

“We do.” - Joe nodded

“That’s it.” - Tyson blabbered

The room laughed once again till a reporter spoke up.

“So all he does is kiss your mom and play football?” - Reporter 3

“Mhm!” - Tyson

“Pretty accurate, not gonna lie.” - Joe

“Joe, you're pretty smitten with your wife, yeah?” - Reporter 5

“Have been since high school. She’s the best though. The best mom, wife, best friend… and so much more. She keeps me grounded. I know I usually keep my personal life separate from football, but I love her more than anything.” - Joe

“More than football?” - Reporter 2

“More than anything.” - Joe reiterated

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Authors note: though Joe would never do this, let's just imagine he would.

Request for this fic;

Hope you enjoyed! 💕

#joe burrow #bengals #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joey b #cincinnati bengals

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erxxi3 · 1 year ago

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Giving Him Head & making him cum more than once

Re4, gaming boyfriend! Leon Kennedy

Sypnosis: Leon is gaming with the squad and he makes a excuse he has to take a important call, but in reality your sucking him off under the desk and he can’t control himself thats why he stayed AFK in the game for a long time. You decide to make him cum more than once in different ways like jerking him off, sucking him off, and riding him. He promised to give you attention earlier but he hopped on his game so you try and force him to give you attention which you got.

Cw; oral (m! receiving), reader jerking him off, p in v, cowgirl kind of? (riding him in his gaming chair), some praise, aftercare at the end, MDNI !!

A/N: I don’t know if it’s good the way this fic was made, but I tried to do something different since I haven’t posted for you lovelies in a while! Feel free to send requests in but I still need to make rules for em’, but its okay as long as it isn’t anything really bad like fucking vile and sick…

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You were under his desk unzipping his pants as he tried to keep his calm while playing a game with the gang (Carlos Oliveira, Claire Redfield, Jill Valentine, and Chris Redfield) but it was getting harder to focus due to you taking all of him in your mouth, “G-guys I gotta take a call…O-oh Shit-“ Leon said as he muted his mic fast, he threw his head back. His hand in your hair guiding your movements as his mouth hung open letting out soft moans.

The others in the group kept talking about your boyfriend and their friend Leon joking around that he’s probably getting it from you instead of taking a call, which he was but they could never know that. “Fuck…Take it all baby.” He pushed your head down on his cock making it hit the back of your throat, and you could feel his balls pushing against your jaw as he came inside you. You lapped up every last drop, closing your lips firmly over his dick and bobbing your head slightly in time with each thrust, swallowing every last inch of him.

“Mmm fuck…” Leon groaned out, pulling at your hair and trying to bring your mouth away from his dick while you still had some in your mouth, “Please…let me cum again…please…” He begged, “Please….baby please...” You nodded and pulled off of his cock, starting to jerk him off and you could look into his dark blue eyes filled with lust, “Please…fuck fuck fuck- don’t stop…” His hips bucked into your hand as his orgasm came flooding in.

“Yeah…Fuck yeah…like that baby…yeah…” Leon said breathlessly. You leaned forward and kissed the tip of his cock, which made it twitch and you let out a small laugh as your index finger grazed over it before tracing the veins of his cock, It pulsated under your touch as your thumb rubbed across his cock in circular motions while his breathing started picking up again “Fuck- baby I’m gonna cum…again~!” He said panting between words, “Fuck…oh God…” Leon grunted as his orgasm took over. You mouth off of his cock and head away as your hand covered the tip of his dick as cum shot out, honestly it was unintentional to not tell him that you were going to plan on making him cum again.

You started jerking him off again using his own cum as lube, as he tried to continue to play his game yet he couldn’t help but let out some interesting sounds while playing the game he bit his lip to try and keep quiet but you were too quick for him, your hands were going at a fast rate he couldn’t handle such pleasure.

Leon’s breathing get heavier, you could smell his sweat as well as his sweet cologne “Ah fuck…you…baby you do that shit so good…” He whimpered, arm over began to cover his mouth as he looked look down at you, whilst your fingers gave him the time of his life as you fucked him relentlessly. He watched you through hooded eye as you continued to work his cock until you took off your pants revealing your dripping cunt before you rode him. Leon groaned out loud watching the way your legs wrapped around him and the way you ground your pussy onto his cock while he continued to thrust into you.

Your fingers worked at the base of his shaft, rubbing it in circles while keeping you bobbing his cock as you fucked him faster than you ever have. His breathy moans turned to low guttural grunts as he came and your hands fell to the side while your body went limp with a few moans escaping your lips. Your chest heaved with your heavy breaths, Leon watched you for several seconds before moving his hands from where they sat on the edge of the desk and grabbed your ass giving it a hard smack that was surely to leave a reddened mark. Squirming underneath him with your back arching letting out sweet moansof pleasure.

“Oh my gosh- I’m so close Leon…” You whined.

“Come for me baby~” Leon hummed.

You panted and writhed underneath his hands, your legs moving in a frenzy as you came once again. You cried out and Leon held you in place by digging his thumbs into your hips, “You’re mine now…” He growled out before kissing your neck deeply.

You rolled his tongue on your skin earning a whine out of him “Oh god…” Leon mumbled feeling you clench around him.

Thrusting deeper into you releasing deep inside you, “Mmm fuck…” Leon whispered while panting into your ear, your head falling back as you tried your hardest to catch your breath.

Leon let you go slowly and you held onto him panting trying to regulate your breathing as you felt him start to pull out of you, “Shit...fuck- m’ sorry…” He sighed, “Are you alright baby?” He asked while grabbing at some tissues to clean you both. You gave him a little smile and nodded. After you both cleaned up and got dressed, you headed back to lay in his bed and watched him as he finished up his game. As soon as Leon put his game down he curled into you, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

“You really don’t like when I play games and don’t give you the attention you deserve, babe?” Leon murmured. You smiled lightly, stroking your fingers through his hair, “Well I suppose there’s something wrong with loving you a little too much.” Leon chuckled warmly and kissed the underside of your jaw softly.“Maybe you just want someone who cares enough about you, to show you they love you more than any games..” You hummed softly, running your hand up his shirt sleeve to rest against his bare arm.

Leon moved his body closer to yours and pulled you closer to him, “And I care about you a lot.” He added.

You smiled into his hair and ran a hand through his hair enjoying the feel of his soft, silky hair against your skin “Yeah...I love and care about you too babe.”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy x fem! reader #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon re4 #leon re2 remake #leon re2 #leon re4 remake #resdient evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #leon resident evil #resident evil leon

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undeadcannibal · 1 year ago

Note

imagine one of the Fem! rookies getting lil skeleton hands tattooed on her hands, and ghost just-

*INSTANT BONER*

Summary: Ghost can’t help but be turned on when he notices the Recruits’ new tattoos. Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley/Reader

Genre: One-shot, request(s) Word count: 1,138

Warnings: Mature rating, mention(s) of sexual acts.

A/N: Ooh, I had fun with this one, Anon. Was tempted to turn it into a full fic, but figured I’d be an asshole and tease y’all since I write tons of smut otherwise. Whoops! Anywho, thank you so much for the request, Anon. I hope y’all enjoy it~ Also, I apologize if this has a lot of mistakes. I’ve been slammed with allergies, mental stuff, and work, so I’m all sorts of fucked lol. ( Gif credit: xxx )

Ghost paid little mind to most of the rookies they trained. At least, he had before until he'd met you a few months back. Price had mentioned to 141 he was interested in possibly having each of them bring some new recruits under their wing to help show them the ropes. He figured if anyone could get any of them ready, it'd be his boys. Each of them eventually had someone signed to them to help train. Ghost's recruit certainly was interesting, to say the least.

John had figured with Ghost being more reserved than the rest of the group, it might be easier if he had a recruit that kept to themselves more than the rest. He was thankful for that. The less he had to worry about babysitting, the better. Thankfully, that never seemed to be the case with the recruit Price had assigned to him.

You went by the call sign Mouse.

At first, he'd assumed it was for your small stature, but after he'd heard whispers from the others, he quickly realized it was due to your specialty for silence and speed. Apparently, you were just as quiet as you were quick in your fieldwork. That he could appreciate. Yet, aside from that, he didn't know much about you even after weeks of training together.

Aside from learning the truth behind your call sign, he'd also come to notice that - surprisingly - you were covered in numerous tattoos.

Every time the two of you sparred together, he found himself discovering a new tattoo he hadn't seen before or a blank spot that had yet to be filled with ink.

Eventually, somewhere around the two-month mark, he found himself asking you about them after a successful session. You'd finally managed to break out of a particular grapple you were struggling with thanks to the size difference between you two. However, Ghost refused to relent until you'd gotten the hang of it. Your enemies wouldn't play fair if they towered over you, so he had to prepare you for any sort of outcome to give you the best chance of survival possible. Still, that didn't mean he was so strict as to not celebrate the small victories.

As the two of you were hydrating after training, he'd found it in him to comment on your tattoos for whatever reason.

"Noticed you had a blank spot there." He'd comment, glancing down at the blank space of flesh on your hands. It'd surprised him to see your arms covered yet you still had yet to choose something for them. Maybe you didn't care for hand tattoos, he wondered...

"Have any plans for 'em?"

You paused in bringing your water bottle to your lips, pursing them as you hummed softly. Seemingly debating on how to answer his question.

"Mm, yeah... I've got a few ideas in mind for them, but have yet to settle on anything yet."

He was content to leave it at that had it not been for your next response.

"I've got a few ideas in mind but haven't settled on anything just yet. Tell you what though, when I do get those spots filled in, you'll be the first one I show them to."

By the time that'd happened, it'd been a few months later and he'd pretty much forgotten the interaction until he'd bumped into you again on his way out for a smoke break. You'd stopped to say hi and chat for a bit before he suddenly saw your eyes widening. A giddy smile broke out on your face shortly afterward.

"Oh, I nearly forgot!" Raising the sleeves of your long sleeve top, you also quickly rid yourself of those pair of gloves he often saw you wearing. "Check out the new tattoos I got while I was back home."

With your forearms and hands bare to him, he could see the fresh, black ink now covering the spaces on your appendages that previously clear soft skin.

The moment he realized what the tattoos were, Simon was thankful for the strait-laced control of his reactions. Certain if he wasn't so strict with himself that he'd be giving off numerous micro-expressions showing his interest in your new pieces.

Of all the tattoos you had to get, it just had to be a stylistic representation of your wrists and hands skeletal system.

Rationally, he understood that the new set of ink likely had no meaning behind it - most of his own didn't - but a smaller, possibly more primal part of him wanted to puff up his chest. Preen at the thought of everything you could have chosen, it was something similar to the gloves he often wore himself. Only much more permanent. And attractive.

Fucking hell, he was down bad over something that meant nothing at all.

Just so he didn't break down and smile, Ghost took a long and deep drag of his cigarette before exhaling the entirety of the smoke from his lungs. Watching the vapors dissipate entirely before finally having it in him to look at you once again.

"How'd you do during the fingers and knuckles?"

You laughed sweetly and softly, causing him to feel an odd sense of pride in being the cause behind that laughter. Especially when he took notice of the way your cheeks appeared even softer and rounder than usual as you did so.

Eyes down, soldier. Look at the tattoos, not her damn squishable cheeks.

Watching you wiggle your fingers in his direction, you grinned up at him cheekily.

"Pain comes with the territory. Besides, I kinda enjoy that type of pain, and it's also a hell of a lot cheaper than therapy." You joked.

Simon felt like a pitiful man when he felt the familiar stirring of arousal deep within his lower belly shortly after. His mind already drifting towards mental images of you down on your knees before him. Opening his pants just so you could wrap those tattooed fingers around the base of his cock. Stroke him till he grew hard and began to twitch within your palms. Eventually - given your permission - he'd paint the dark ink with his release, claiming you in a way and--

He needed to stop his thoughts before he began to spiral down the rabbit hole that was his sudden lewd thoughts that came on with your new tattoos.

He was going to need another cigarette as soon as he finished his first one.

Clearing his throat, Simon glanced at you with dilated, bright eyes.

"They look good on you, kid."

Even if he wouldn't admit it aloud, Ghost secretly saw it as a secret bond between the two of you.

Now, you had a permanent mark of his favorite pair of gloves on your body.

The thought alone turned him on much more than he'd ever thought possible.

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty x reader #oneshots #requests #anonymous #my writing

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aemondsbabe · 11 months ago

Text

Homecoming

summary: reassurance & car sex || you're desperate to have tom before he ships off, but neither of your houses are exactly ideal options...

pairing: tom bennett x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, first time, loss of virginity, car sex, public sex (they don’t get caught, no one else sees, but it’s not in the privacy of a home so ig), fingering, fluff, tom being so sweet actually, v soft

word count: 3.1k

a/n: happy day two of 12 days of smuff!!! tom bennett makes my head spin!!!!!!! Can be read as a part 1 to A Promise is a Promise or as a stand alone!

12 days of smuff masterlist!

gif creds to @violaobanion!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

A loud peal of laughter erupts from Tom’s lips as the two of you stagger out of the small, neighborhood pub you frequented, each of you calling quick goodbye’s over your shoulders to your friends. The night air was crisp but thankfully not overly cold yet as you take Tom’s arm, your shoulder bumping against his as you step out onto the sidewalk.

“You’re a real firecracker, love, you know that?” He asks with a cheeky grin, draping a long arm over your shoulders as you begin the quick walk back to your family’s place.

You can’t help but chuckle as you glance over at him, the apples of your cheeks sore from how much you’ve been smiling and laughing over the last couple hours. “‘S just the truth, Tommy,” you shrug, slightly slurring your words, “I just love you sooooooo much! Like, more than anything.”

Leaning in, Tom presses a quick kiss to your cheek and laughs once again when you stumble against him from the movement. “Easy there, tiger,” he mumbles, a soft smile on his face. The two of you amble a bit further in a comfortable, giggly silence as you finally turn the corner onto your street, “D’you love me more than Cola Cubes?” Tom asks, giggling out the words.

You throw your head back and groan dramatically before turning to him with a playful pout, “That is pure evil, that is! Making me think of Cola Cubes during rationing!” You whine, reaching up to lightly smack him on his firm chest.

Tom merely laughs as the two of you finally come to a stop in front of your front door; spinning around, you let yourself fall back against the white-painted door, the material cool against your back through your thin blouse. You look up through your lashes at Tom, watching as he leans forward, balancing himself against the door with one arm outstretched above the two of you as his other hand comes to rest on your hip.

“Tell ya what,” he starts, a suddenly serious look in his cobalt eyes as he leans ever closer to you and rests his forehead against yours, “I’ll save you every single Cola Cube I get in my C-rations and y’can have ‘em all when I get back to ya.”

Your throat tightens at his words and your heart twists meanly in your chest, though you manage to turn your lips up into a small, quivering smile as you place a hand on his chest, the grey fabric of his sweater soft under your palm. “And you promise you’ll come back?” Your voice is softer than you mean for it to be, a slight hoarseness to it from how your throat pinches.

Tom sighs softly and gently cups your chin, his hand still cool from where it had been balanced on the door. “I’ve only had you for a measly two months, you think I’m giving you up that easily?” He teases, though there’s a certain sadness in his eyes that mirror’s your own; even still, you can’t help but chuckle at his words.

The two of you stand in a comfortable silence for a moment, simply enjoying being close as neither of you are willing to say goodnight yet. After a minute, your breath hitches in your chest as you notice the shadow behind the brunette’s eyes morph into a different kind of darkness as his eyes stray to your lips.

Without a second thought, you lean in and press your lips against his, eliciting a pleased hum from the boy, the small noise vibrating against the hand still on his chest as your other comes up to rest on his shoulder. Both of his skirt down to grab at your hips and he pulls you closer to him, your heads tilting in opposite directions as the kiss deepens. A small whimper escapes your lips as he licks into your mouth, his tongue swirling against your own.

“Tommy,” you whisper, your head tilting further to the side as he presses a line of kisses down your neck, “I… I want you.” You finish shyly, teeth biting into your lower lip as he pulls back to look at you.

His breath hitches for a second before he collects himself. “Are you sure, love?” He asks gruffly, “I thought you wanted to wait till–.”

You shake your head, your eyes searching his as you fiddle with the neckline of his sweater. “Changed my mind,” the corner of your lips quirks up into a nervous smile, “Think of it as a going away present.”

Tom smiles at your words and huffs out a small laugh before nodding to the door behind you. “Whatever you wish, love. Lead the way.”

Your eyes widen slightly as you shake your head again. “Are you crazy? We cannot go in there, both my parents are very light sleepers and if my dad catches you, you won’t even make it to the Navy, much less make it home. Can’t we just go round to yours? It’s only a couple minutes away.”

“No can do, love,” Tom sighs with a shake of his head, “Even if my dad’s asleep, there’s no way we’ll get past Lois. Bloody bat hearing on that one, I swear.”

The two of you sigh, defeated, your shoulders sagging as Tom crooks an arm up, awkwardly rubbing at the back of his neck as he glances around, the wheels in his head spinning frantically as he tries to come up with an idea; his eyes do a double take as he spots your family’s black car sitting idly on the small driveway in front of your house and he turns to you with a sly smirk.

“What say we christen your dad’s car?”

You start to giggle, convinced he’s merely joking, although you stop when you see the look in his eyes. “Tommy, you can’t be serious,” you say with a surprised smile, “If my dad finds out we took it he’ll–.”

“Who said anything about taking it, love?” He says with a proud smirk.

You guffaw at this, staring at him incredulously. “What, you mean just here on the drive?”

“Well, why not?” He questions, exaggeratedly turning his head as he looks around, peering up and down the deserted road, “You know as well as I do that all your neighbors are old as the hills, love. Only ones out round here at this hour are you and me.”

You stay quiet for a moment, unbelievably actually considering his proposal as you glance up and down the road and well… he is right. Most of your neighbors are quite a bit older and all of their windows dark and still as you peer around. Finally, you turn back to Tom with a sigh, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

“Fine,” you quip, blushing slightly as he chuckles lowly, clearly pleased with himself, “Let me grab the bloody key.” You mutter with a playful eye roll as you open your front door as slowly and quietly as you can possibly manage. You duck in and quickly snatch your father’s ring of keys off the small table next to the door before quietly shutting it behind you.

You hand the keys to Tom and follow him down the drive, a sense of giddiness quickly replacing your nerves; the brunette easily unlocks the car and quickly pulls one of the back doors open and slides inside before reaching a hand out to pull you with him.

He pounces on you as soon as you carefully shut the door, his rough hands eagerly bunching up the fabric of your blouse as he tugs it out from where you’d tucked it under your skirt while his lips move frantically against your own.

“You’re sure?” He pants, pulling back after a moment when he feels your hands starting to tug impatiently at the bottom of his sweater, “We really don’t ha–.”

You press a finger against his rosy lips, cutting him off with a soft giggle. “I want this, Tommy,” leaning in, you trail soft kisses up his jaw to his ear, “I want you.” You whisper, relishing the way he shivers on top of you and the way the muscles of his stomach and chest twitch under your touch as you slide your hands under his sweater.

With a nod, Tom dives in yet again and presses wet kisses against the column of your throat as he tugs you into his lap, careful not to let your head bump against the roof of the car. He groans at the feel of you on top of him and his hands move quickly as they pull your blouse up; he leans in and kisses wetly up your stomach, right down the middle until he reaches the bottom of your bra.

His blue eyes are nearly black as he gazes up at you, questioning. A whimper slips past your lips as you answer him with a small nod, fingers threading through his short hair as he eagerly slips your bra up.

He breathes out a low, satisfied groan when your breasts are finally free, not bothering to take off your bra or blouse before he dives in. “Jesus Christ,” he mumbles, lips pressed against the underside of your breast, “They’re better than I imagined, so much better.”

A giggle spills past your lips before it quickly turns into a moan, your head lolling back as he latches onto one nipple, happily sucking it into his warm mouth with a satisfied grunt. “T-Tommy,” you whisper, already writhing on top of him from a few touches, “Don’t stop.” Your voice is whiny as you speak, only for you to actually whine as Tom pulls back for a second to tug his sweater over his head.

“Relax, love,” he huffs against your chest, groaning hotly as you squirm in his lap, no doubt able to feel his cock as it hardens steadily in his pants, “‘M gonna give you what you want, gonna do right by you.” He promises, licking over your nipple before sucking at it and letting his eyes flutter shut at the way you gently tug his hair.

The windows of the car quickly begin to fog up as the two of you move together, your breathy sighs and whimpers filling the small space along with Tom’s harsh pants and groans. You squirm in his lap as his hands make quick work of your stockings and underwear, quickly tugging them down and off your legs before he tosses them somewhere on the floor of the car.

He looks to you for reassurance once more, which you happily give, before his warm hand cups your center, causing both of you to shudder against each other. Slowly, carefully, he parts your folds before gently rubbing a finger over your bud, chuckling when you buck into his hand with a loud moan. “That the spot, love?” His eyes flick up to your face, eager to watch your reactions as he touches you, “God, you’re dripping.” A soft sigh leaves his lips as he presses his fingers more firmly against you, flicking them over your clit.

“Mhm, Tommy, shit,” you whine, your voice only a breathy whisper as you press your forehead against his. Your eyes flutter as your hips move against his hand, seemingly with a mind of their own, “More, please!” You whine desperately after a few moments, eyes squeezing shut at the way your center clenches around nothing.

Nodding, Tom moves his hand a bit lower, groaning at how much slicker you are here, before he runs his fingers through your folds once more, making sure to get them wet before notching two at your entrance. “Ready?” He asks softly, only slowly pushing them in once you nod. He groans along with you, marveling at how tightly you’re grasping his fingers as his cock twitches in his pants at the thought of how much tighter you’ll be around him. “Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight,” he groans lowly, blue eyes glancing down to watch your breasts heave as you pant on top of him, “Does that feel good, love?”

Wordlessly, you nod against his forehead, swallowing thickly. A loud moan is practically punched out of you as he curls his fingers, pressing perfectly against a small, sensitive spot inside you. Your mouth hangs open as unintelligible whines tumble from your lips, a shiver going down your spine when you see the pleased smirk on his face.

His long fingers fuck into you for a few more moments, his thumb coming up to rub at your clit in a way that makes you see stars as you cling to him tightly, your breasts pressed deliciously up against his warm, bare chest.

You whine, however, when his movements start to slow against you, though he’s quick to hush you, chuckling as he presses a kiss to your cheek. “You want my cock, love?” He asks, pulling his fingers from you slowly before gripping appreciatively at the fat of your inner thigh.

You pull back to look down at him, your eyebrows knitting together as a small, nervous pit forms in your stomach. “It… it won’t hurt, right?” You ask softly, the words of several of your friends echoing through your mind.

Quickly, Tom shakes his head, one hand coming up to cup your cheek lovingly. “I promise it won’t,” he says softly, pressing a reassuring kiss to your lips, “I told you, I’m gonna do right by you.”

Hesitantly, you nod, though he must sense the nervousness that’s still pooled in your stomach. He sighs with a soft smile, his thumb caressing your cheekbone. “How about you stay on top, hm? That way you control everything.”

You blink a few times, considering the offer before smiling and nodding, which draws a bright smile from the boy underneath you. You shift back a bit on his lap, giving him enough room to unbutton and unzip his pants and pull them down just enough to free his cock; your eyes widen as he pulls it free from his boxers with a relieved sigh.

“A-Are you sure it’ll fit?” You ask softly, marveling at it as he runs a hand over his length.

He chuckles beneath you with a proud smirk as he pulls you back to him. “I’m sure, love, I promise you’ll enjoy it.” He assures you, pressing kisses down your neck as he does so. Your breath hitches as you feel the head of his cock prod at your entrance, and you lean into Tom’s touch as you let him guide your hips.

“Oh!” You shudder as you slowly sink down, breathing heavily as the head slips inside your warm center.

“That’s it,” he coaxes, his hands gentle on your hips as he lets you take him at your own pace, “Doing so well, pretty girl.”

His praises spur you on as you sink lower and lower, eyes squeezing shut as your thighs burn a little with the effort. Finally, after a few minutes, you breathe a sigh of relief as your thighs finally rest on top of his, his length pressing fully inside you.

“Y’okay?” He checks through a ragged breath, his eyes nearly slipping to the back of his head as he feels you twitch and pulse around him already, your walls suffocatingly tight against his length.

You nod as you let yourself fall forward and press a cheek against his warm shoulder before giving a small, experimental roll of your hips. You gasp as you feel him press against you, filling you with a delicious ache.

The two of you begin to move together wordlessly, your hands finding purchase against his firm chest as you gingerly bounce on top of him, breathily moaning in time with each thrust. Tom grunts each time you sink back down onto him, one hand gripping at your hip as the other kneads at your breast, his fingers pinching and pulling your nipple just enough to elicit adorable high-pitched whines from you.

Your clit, still sensitive from his earlier attention, rubs perfectly against the small thatch of hair at the base of his cock and sends shivers down your spine. “T-Tommy,” you gasp, nearly doubling over as you tilt your hips, causing the head of his cock to rut against that sensitive spot within you at the same time your clit grinds against him, “I think – I, oh!” You pant against his shoulder, unable to string together two words as sparks suddenly burst behind your eyelids.

Tom huffs out a loud groan as he feels you tense on top of him, your walls clenching around his cock wildly as your peak washes over you. He mumbles incoherent curses against your neck as his hips rut up into you.

He holds out for as long as he can before tugging you off of his lap, one hand quickly grasping at his length as he desperately strokes it. You watch, enraptured, as his head tilts back onto the car seat, his Adams’s apple bobbing beautifully as he moans, long and loud. His cock twitches in his grasp as he finishes, painting wet, pearlescent streaks against the trembling skin of his lower stomach, his chest heaving.

After a moment, the two of you giggle softly. You bite your lip as he bends over, only to open it in protest as he quickly wipes his spend from his stomach with your discarded stockings, “Tom! You pig!” You admonish, albeit through a surprised laugh.

He peers up at you cheekily as he deposits your stockings on the floor of the car once again, laughing as he pulls you back to him. “You’ll wash them anyway!” He huffs, wrapping his arms around you. The two of you grow quiet for a moment, rain softly pattering against the top of the car. “Or you could keep them like a trophy while I’m gone,” he teases, chuckling once again at your small sound of disgust, “Something to remember me by.”

“But you’ll be back,” you say softly after a moment, pulling back so you can look at him properly, your wide eyes searching his, “Right?”

He sighs with a soft smile, both hands gently cupping your cheeks. “I promise, I’ll come back to you,” he says earnestly, blue eyes boring into your own, “I will come home to you, love.”

You stare at him for a moment longer before finally nodding, tucking your face against his shoulder once more and breathing in his familiar scent.

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @alerisc

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

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wosoxwriterrr · 7 months ago

Text

Stina Blackstenius x Swedish Arsenal reader

request- could u do smth with stina blackstenius where reader is very flirty with stina, making flirty comments and being touchy with her but stina is absolutely clueless and doesnt catch on at all. then reader has enough and just kisses stina ☺️

a/n- i’m aware my fics are pretty short atm but bare with me :) requests are open!!

518 words ———

You always found a way to be close to Stina, you really liked her so you wanted to be around her. You always laughed at her jokes a bit too loud making those around you give you some glares but you didn’t care.

Walking into colney you spot Stina getting out of her car, you run over to her turining into a koala as you wrap your limbs around her. “Hej på dig med y/n” (Hello to you too) She giggles at your current position. “Jag saknade dig” (I missed you) you whispered into her ear, still clinging to her.

Before training, laura caught you making heart eyes at Stina and came over to talk to you. “what’s going on between you two?” she said quietly so no one else could hear. “i wish i knew Laura, i’ve tried so many times to tell her without actually telling her but she’s just so oblivious” Laura places a comforting hand on your back “maybe just use your words” she gets no response, just a knowing sigh.

During training, you being a defender and Stina being a striker, both of you were working together on some drills. As you start defending the ball away from her, Stina accidentally clips your heal sending you straight to the grass holding your ankle. “OMG y/n I am so sorry” she says as she rushes to your side. “Stina It’s okay don’t worry about it, I am fine kärlek” (love). You get back on your feet and walk back into the building with the medics.

Sitting in your cubby with ice on your ankle, the team start to filter in. Stina makes a beeline to you. “How’s the ankle?” said with a sympathetic tone. “Just a little niggle, nothing big luckily” said with a sheepish smile. “I was so scared, wouldn’t want to hurt my best friend” the minute the words ‘best friend’ came out of her mouth, your heart sunk. “Are you okay y/n” Stina asks with concern. You stay quiet for a moment. “Ka jag kyssa dig?” (Can I kiss you?) Stina looks at you for a moment then lightly nods her head. Soon your lips were connecting with Stina’s and your heart felt like it was about to explode. You had waited for this moment for years! You pull away “Förlåt att jag inte borde ha gjort att du inte ens gillar mig” (Sorry I shouldn’t have done that you don’t even like me) “I never said I didn’t like you y/n, I just didn’t know you liked me” as she looks at the wall behind you. “I thought I was making it really obvious, I think you’re just oblivious Stina” you say with a little chuckle. “Y/n is right, you’re oblivious” Frida chimes in after over hearing the conversation.

Everyone starts to leave the changing room, leaving you and Stina. “Well em I will call you later maybe only if you want” you say kind of nervously. “Jag skulle älska det” (I would love that) as she quickly pulls you in for a quick peck leaving you both blushing messes.

#woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso #woso one shot #woso community #stina blackstenius #stina blackstenius x reader #awfc #awfc imagine #awfc x reader

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jasontoddsmommyissues · 2 years ago

Text

Let’s Give ‘Em Something to Talk About

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Femme!Henderson!Reader

Summary: Y/N Henderson’s relationship with Eddie puts her at odds with Jason Carver and co.

Warnings: Reader uses she/her pronouns, bullying/harassment, slut shaming, allusions to sexual content (nothing sexual actually happens), Jason being a prick, swearing, Reader is Dustin’s sister but no physical descriptions are used and you can read it as an adopted sibling if you want, I think that’s it but let me know if I missed something

A/N: Alright, this is the first Fic I’ve ever posted on here. I’m honestly a little nervous, but hopefully you enjoy. I’ll probably end up posting this on my Ao3 too so I’ll link that at some point.

My Master List | Ao3

—

“I’m gonna miss you”, Eddie whines as he leans against the locker next to yours.

“It’s one class”, you reply as you swap out your English textbook for history, “that’s, what, an hour?”

“Actually I have Davis’s class next so it feels more like three hours”, Eddie says.

You snort. Mr. Davis has probably been around since the dinosaur era, and if there were to be a competition for most boring teacher at Hawkins High, he would win it hands down.

“It’s not funny”, Eddie teasingly pouts, “I might actually die of boredom.”

“As much as I would hate for that to happen, I’ve got my own class to get to, so unfortunately you’re on your own for now,” you reply.

“Alright well, please tell the rest of Hellfire I’m going to miss them”, he tells you, “and feel free to wear that black skirt of yours to the funeral. The tight one. It’s what I would’ve wanted.”

You roll your eyes affectionately before pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“You’re so dramatic”, you say, “I’ll see you later.”

“If I survive that long”, he calls. You shake your head before turning the corner and heading into your history classroom.

“Okay, class”, your teacher, Mr. Price announces once the bell rings, “I’ve written some questions on the board. You’ll find the answers in Chapter 5 of your textbook. Write them down and turn them in by the end of class. You may work with a partner if you’d like.”

You pull your textbook out of your bag and flip to a clean sheet in your notebook. You don’t have any friends in this class, so you figure you may as well just do it yourself and get it over with. That is, until a voice startles you as you’re about to start reading the first page of the chapter.

“Hey, Y/N. Do you wanna work together?”

You blink up at the source of the voice and are pretty sure you must be hallucinating. That’s the only explanation you can think of as to why Jason Carver would be asking you to be his partner.

The two of you have been in the same grade since Kindergarten and you can't think of a single time in all those years that he’s directly acknowledged your existence. The closest thing you have to a connection with him is that your little brother is friends with one of his new Basketball recruits, but you kind of doubt he even knows or cares about that. There’s a few members of his little posse he could be asking to work with him, so you have no clue why he’d be asking you of all people. But, you don’t have anyone else, so you shrug.

“Sure, I guess”, you say.

“Great”, he smiles, moving to sit down next to you.

“I’ll get started on number 1”, you suggest, “maybe you can do number 2 and we’ll compare?”

“Sure”, he says sweetly. You’re honestly getting a little freaked out by how friendly he’s being.

You both do your agreed upon work, and then switch off to show each other your answers.

“So?” you ask when he’s finished reading yours, “does that seem right?”

“Yeah”, he replies, “you’re good at this. You ever thought about being a tutor?”

“Oh, no, not really”, you say.

“See, I just ask because our youth group has this program where some of us older members help the younger kids out after school and stuff.”

“Oh, that’s cool”, you tell him, not really engaged the conversation. It all sounds well and good, but you really aren’t interested in being a tutor at the moment.

“You know, the church has a lot of great programs”, Jason continues, and you’re not sure what any of this has to do with the Byzantine empire, which is what you’re supposed to be discussing.

“Okay”, you say.

“They do a lot of outreach, a lot of stuff to help people who have lost their way.”

“Lost their way?” you inquire, a small part of you beginning to understand what’s actually going on.

“Yeah. You know. Made bad choices, got mixed up with the wrong people.”

“Um, I think we should just get back to the assignment”, you suggest, uncomfortable with the discussion and not wanting it to go any further.

“Look”, Jason sighs, “what I’m trying to say is, I don’t know you very well, but you seem like a nice girl. I’d hate to see you go down a bad path.”

Okay. You get it now, and it’s starting to piss you off.

“Thank you, but I’m doing just fine”, you insist.

“You’ve been hanging around with Eddie Munson”, Jason says, as if it’s some scandalous secret and not just you spending time with your boyfriend, “you really shouldn’t do that, you know…”

You stare at him, a little dumbfounded he would just up and say such a thing to you.

“You can’t be serious…”, you say.

Jason leans in to you, a deadly serious expression on his face.

“I’ve heard about guys like him before”, he tells you, “I know the stuff they’re into.”

Yeah, so do you. It’s tabletop role playing games, which is about the least nefarious activity you could possibly think of. Jason clearly doesn’t see it that way, though, because he’s still going on.

“And I know they like to lure innocent people like you into their little organizations. I’m telling you, Munson is bad news. You should stay away before you get hurt.”

You seriously have to hold yourself back from laughing right in Jason’s face. You’re not sure what reality he’s living in, but it clearly isn’t the same one you are. Last weekend, you and Eddie had watched Terms of Endearment and he’d started to cry (well started tearing up at least, even sniffled a little, though he vehemently denied it). There’s not a single situation in which you can ever imagine him causing you intentional harm.

“Okay, you know what”, you say, “I think I’m gonna finish the rest of the assignment alone, thanks.”

Jason grabs your arm gently but firmly. “I’m serious, Y/N. He’s dangerous. Stay away from him before you end up hurt or killed.”

You’re really not sure what the most offensive part of all this is. It’s either that Jason thinks that somehow Eddie Munson, your lovable dork of a boyfriend,is secretly an evil Satanist cult leader, or that you’re apparently too stupid or naive to make that kind of judgment for yourself. Maybe it’s that he volunteered to work with you on an assignment and acted all friendly with you just so he could get this opportunity to preach to you about your supposedly “dangerous” lifestyle. He’s never given you the time of day before, after all.

“I don’t know what it is you think you see in him, but I promise you it’s not going to end well.”

You snort. Is he, what, jealous or something? He’s got a girlfriend, after all, and plenty of other girls who’d be willing to take her place if she were to leave him. It’s kind of sad that he’s apparently so insecure that the mere thought of Eddie Munson getting female attention is enough to have him losing his shit like this.

“Whatever”, you spit, “just leave me alone.”

He glares at you, but ultimately turns his attention to his textbook and doesn’t speak to you for the rest of the class.

You happily shove the encounter out of your mind once the bell rings. You’re perfectly content with the social circle you keep, and you’re not going to let some jock with an inflated sense of self importance change that.

Jason apparently doesn’t do the same because he spends lunch glaring at you from his table. Granted, him shooting disgusted looks in the general direction of the Hellfire Club is a regular occurance, but today he’s making it obvious his ire is directed specifically at you.

“What the fuck is his problem?” Eddie asks.

“I dunno”, you shrug, “he’s just an asshole.”

Eddie peers at him for a moment and you can see a familiar glint of mischief twinkle in his eye. Before you can comment, he’s dramatically pushing himself to his feet and sauntering over to Jason and company.

“What do you want?” Jason demands.

“Couldn’t help but notice you staring”, Eddie says, “just wanted to let you know that I’m flattered, but unfortunately you aren’t really my type. Sorry.”

“Fuck off”, Jason barks, “disgusting freak.”

“Don’t take it too hard”, Eddie says, giving him a joking pat on the shoulder before making his way back over to you. You stifle a laugh at the indignant look plastered on Jason’s face. Eddie shoots you a proud grin and you shake your head affectionately. Jason clearly doesn’t know shit about “guys like Eddie.”

The next few days pass by uneventfully. Jason doesn’t try talking to you again, which you’re thankful for. Wednesday starts out normally, you go to history, and Jason roundly ignores your presence. Then you have to go to your next class, which is gym.

Definitely not a favorite of yours, and you don’t even have Eddie in your class to ease the pain. You make it through your warm ups, and then the coach has you split up to practice your volleyball serves. Everything’s going well until Andy, one of Jason’s buddies, approaches you out of nowhere.

“Hey, Henderson”, he says, a smirk on his face, “you think you could score me some weed?”

You look at him, confused. You don’t get involved in Eddie’s side hustle, so you’re not sure why he’d ask you.

“What?”

“Oh, I just figured you probably get a good discount”, he goes on, “I mean, that’s why you let Munson fuck you, right?”

You freeze in shock, your cheeks starting to grow hot. You can’t say you’re used to people making comments about your sex life, especially not to your face.

“I mean, I gotta say”, Andy continues, a cruel glint in his eye, “I didn’t take you for a slut. But come on. Spreading your legs for that freak? Jesus, that’s sad. You know, I’d be happy to show you a good time, since you’re so desperate for it.”

You can only stand there, mouth agape. Sure, you’ve gotten a gross comment or two from a male classmate before, but nothing like this. You certainly have never been called a slut before. You try to formulate a response, but you can’t come up with one. It doesn’t matter anyway, because the coach’s whistle rings out, signaling for you all to hit the changing rooms. You dash out of the gym, more than pleased to be away from Andy.

You hop in the shower in the locker room, take a few moments to shake off the discomfort of the interaction. You’re not entirely successful in that endeavor, because it keeps playing in your mind even after you’re dressed and making your way back into the hallways.

You have no idea where the hell Andy came up with all of that. At this point, it’s common knowledge that you and Eddie are dating, but you don’t know where this idea that you’re sleeping with him for drugs came from. It couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Hey, Beautiful”, you’re distracted from your thoughts by Eddie, who comes happily bounding over to you. His face falls when he sees the look on your face though.

“You okay?” he asks.

“I’m fine”, you say. Something about the idea of telling Eddie about what happened leaves a bad taste in your mouth. It’s embarrassing, and you definitely don’t want him to feel like it’s somehow his fault that Jason and Andy are giving you a hard time.

Besides, it doesn’t matter. Once again, nothing they say about you or Eddie is true. You can’t let some stupid jocks get to you.

Honestly, you probably could’ve been okay, if that was the end of it. Unfortunately, things only get worse the next day.

As you make your way to your seat in history, you catch sight of Amber and Samantha, two cheerleaders who like to hang around Jason and the others, whispering as you walk by.

You ignore them, figuring you’re being paranoid and they probably aren’t even talking about you, but when you sit down, Amber turns and looks you right in the eye.

She raises her voice then, clearly intending for you to hear what she’s saying.

“I hope she’s gotten tested”, she tells Samantha, “I can’t imagine what nasty shit the Freak is passing on to her.”

You take a deep breath, turning away from her.

It doesn’t matter, you tell yourself, it’s not true.

“I hope the drugs are worth it,” Samantha says.

You clench your jaw as you slip into your seat. It shouldn’t bother you so much. It's not true, and even if it were, who cares what Amber and Samantha have to say about it?

You’re dating Eddie because you like him. You like the way he’s always joking around and making you laugh, you like that he makes a point of looking out for Dustin and his friends, you like the way he looks at you with those big puppy dog eyes and flashes that mischievous grin. Cheap access to his drugs has never even crossed your mind.

You shouldn’t concern yourself with what they say, you know that, but hearing your name in connection with “slut” grinds at you.

During gym class, you do your best to avoid Andy, because everytime he notices you looking at him, he’s making some suggestive gesture at you. You don’t bother telling anyone about it, since Andy’s on the basketball team and the coach would probably take his side.

In the hallway, you accidentally bump into Patrick from the basketball team. You mutter an apology, which he accepts, but his girlfriend gives you the dirtiest look you’ve ever seen.

“Don’t talk to her”, you hear her tell him as you walk away, “she’s a slut.”

All of the gossip has put you in a foul mood by the time you get to your second to last period of the day, which happens to be study hall.

Like always, it’s in the cafeteria, with you and a bunch of other students of varying grade levels all sitting around doing your homework. Technically, you’re not supposed to talk, but the teacher in charge is way too underpaid to worry about enforcing that, so you can usually get away with conversation as long as things don’t get too rowdy.

You’re not taking advantage of that today, rather trying your best to distract yourself by actually doing your homework. You’re halfway through summarizing Act 3 of Hamlet when you hear someone say your name.

“Hey, Y/N…”

You’re confused when you look up to find Lucas standing there. Technically, you’ve known him for years, but it’s not like you’ve ever associated with him outside the time he spends with Dustin.

“What?” you ask, a little meaner than you mean to.

“I just thought you should know that…well, I think Jason has been going around saying things about you.”

Of course. You should’ve known Jason was behind this. Jason fucking Carver. Captain of the Basketball Team. Active member of the local church. Son of one of the most respected families in Hawkins. He’s clearly used to people listening to whatever he has to say. Apparently, his ego couldn’t handle you dismissing his comments about your relationship with Eddie.

Jesus, you’d always known he was a bit of an asshole, but this is a level of pettiness you’d never expected, even from him.

“Don’t tell him I told you”, Lucas adds, “but I just thought you should know.”

“Thank you”, you say. You’re definitely glad to have that piece of information.

The next day, you storm into Mr. Price’s classroom with righteous fury coursing through your veins. You bypass your desk and instead march straight up to Jason.

He pauses his conversation with Andy and Samantha when he sees you approach.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” You demand.

“Excuse me?” Jason asks.

“I know you’ve been starting rumors about me”, you tell him, “what exactly is your problem, Jason?”

“Me? I don’t have a problem”, Jason insists, “I just think it’s fair the men of Hawkins High get a warning about your ‘extracurricular’ activities.”

You can feel heat flood your cheeks.

“You’re a dick, Jason!” you hiss.

“You know, Y/N”, Jason retorts, “I actually feel bad for you. I mean, no decent man is ever going to want you when they find out you’ve been giving it up to some trailer trash freak.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about”, you snap.

“Believe me, I know exactly what happens to girls who hang around with filthy, Satan-worshiping scumbags”, he says, “and you know what? I’m not going to feel sorry for you when they’re finding your body dumped in the woods.”

“Get over yourself!”

“Whatever”, Jason shakes his head, “I’m not gonna take the attitude from some little slut.”

You’re not fully in control of yourself during what happens next. One second you’re standing there listening to Jason degrade you, the next your fist is connecting with his face.

He stands there, stunned for a moment, before opening his mouth to say something. He doesn’t get the chance though, because Mr. Price gets to it first.

“Ms. Henderson”, he gasps, “Mr. Carver, what on earth is going on here?”

“She punched me in the face”, Jason spits accusingly.

“I-I…I’m sorry I…”

“Enough”, Mr. Price sighs, “I want both of you going to the principal’s office right now!”

You’re in deep shit. That much is immediately clear. You punched Jason Carver in the face. It’s not like you even claim it was self defense, since he didn’t do anything physical to you.

“So”, Principal Higgins sighs, “tell me what happened again?”

“She punched me in the face”, Jason hisses.

“Is that true?”

“Yes”, you sigh, “but he called me a slut.”

Principal Higgins rubs his temple, processing the information. Meanwhile, Jason’s gaze is fixed firmly on you, his eyes full of hatred.

“Mr. Carver”, Higgins says finally, “that is not appropriate language to use in regards to another student. You may go back to class, but I better not hear about something like this again.”

Jason stands and marches out of the office, as if he has a right to be pissed about Higgins’ scolding. You suppress the urge to roll your eyes. Of course he gets a slap on the wrist. Nobody wants to punish the star basketball player. You’re certain that if it were anyone else, Eddie or Dustin or one of the other Hellfire Club members, they definitely wouldn’t be getting off so easily.

“Now, as for you Ms. Henderson”, Higgins says, “we do not allow for any sort of violence in this school. However, in all your years at this school, you have never had to receive any form of discipline. So I’m willing to be flexible here. Normally, something like this could be grounds for suspension, but since this is your first time, I say it’s two weeks detention after school starting next Monday. Does that sound fair to you?”

Not really, no, but you can’t say that.

“Yes”, you reply instead.

“Alright. Good. Now go back to class. And Ms. Henderson, I sincerely hope I won’t have to see you in my office again.”

You’re in a bad mood when Mr. Price’s class finally ends. You’ve gone your entire high school career without getting a detention and now you’ve ruined that over some pompous dick bag. Speaking of, Jason has been staring daggers at you since you returned to class, and is continuing to do so even now as you’re leaving.

There’s a tense, awkward moment where you both stand there in the hallway, glaring at each other, but it’s broken when the force of a body colliding with your back almost takes you off your feet. Jason is forgotten when a pair of arms wrap around your waist from behind.

“Eddie”, you huff playfully.

“How’d you know it was me?” he asks as you turn around to face him.

“Cause you can’t keep your hands to yourself, Munson”, you reply.

“Don’t blame me”, he replies, “you know I’m powerless to resist your charms.”

Before you can reply he’s pulling you close and beginning to press kisses to your cheek. You know the two of you are making a scene, and on any other day you might be a little self conscious about it, but today you’re just glad to have him around.

His kisses stop suddenly and you realize he’s stopped because he’s finally noticed Jason’s hateful glaring. Unfazed as always, he just flashes a cocky smile and gives Jason a mocking impression of a friendly wave. Jason makes a face like he’s wishing for both you and Eddie’s violent deaths.

“Geez”, Eddie comments, “he looks pissed.”

“Um, yeah, probably because I punched him in the face”, you mutter.

Eddie’s eyes widen in obvious surprise.

“He had it coming”, you add, “he was being a Dick.”

You know you don’t have to defend yourself to Eddie. He knows better than anyone how nasty Jason can be.

“My, my, Fair Lady Henderson”, he smiles, “I dare say that was very Metal of you.”

“Yeah, well, Higgins didn’t think so”, you reply, “I got two weeks detention for it.”

“Ol’ Higgins never did have a sense of humor”, Eddie says, “but from where I’m standing, you’re basically a hero.”

“Really?”

“Hell yeah”, Eddie tells you, “Jason and his goons have been making our lives miserable for years.”

You can’t help but smile at that. You’re definitely not happy with the day’s events, but knowing Eddie’s on your side makes it a little more bearable.

On Monday you begrudgingly make your way to Mrs. Cline’s room for your first day of detention.

“Ms. Henderson?” she asks when you walk in.

“Yeah”, you say, a little embarrassed.

“Wonderful”, she says, checking your name off of a list in front of her, “please take a seat.”

There’s only two other people in there with you, so you just pick a seat as far from them as possible and sit down.

“Alright”, Mrs. Cline says, “looks like everyone’s here except…”

“I’m here.”

You look up in surprise to see Eddie come walking into the room.

“Ah, yes, Mr. Munson”, Mrs. Cline says dryly, “what a surprise. Please take a seat.”

You know that Eddie isn’t a stranger to detention, but it’s weird that he didn’t mention anything to you when you’d told him about it. He walks over to the desk next to yours, looking way too pleased for someone who’s about to serve a stint in detention.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

“Oh, you know, got caught vandalizing the boy’s locker room during free period”, he tells you.

“What? When?”

“Friday”, he says with a satisfied smirk.

You frown. This must’ve happened after the whole Jason thing on Friday which means…

Which means Eddie did it knowing that you were also going to be in detention.

“Eddie”, you say, “did you get detention just because I did?”

“I couldn’t let you have all the fun, could I?” he grins.

You can’t help but smile along with him.

“Mr. Munson, Ms. Henderson”, Mrs. Cline calls from her desk, “no talking during detention.”

Eddie mimes zipping his lips and waits until Mrs. Cline looks away before giving you a playful wink. You stifle a giggle.

You don’t know Jason all that well, but you’re pretty sure he would never dream of landing himself in detention just to keep his girlfriend company. You’ve never seen him make a scene in the middle of the hallways to get her to smile. That’s the thing about this that really gets under your skin. Jason and the others don’t know shit. They think that just because Eddie doesn’t fall into their narrow definition of “acceptable”, he must be scary and dangerous. They think that just because you’re not afraid of him, you must be dirty and corrupted. They’re too close-minded to look closer and see that Eddie is the sweetest boyfriend you could ever imagine, that you spend time with him because he makes you happy. They’d rather write him off as a freak and you off as a slut than accept that maybe their perception is wrong.

You’re far from being a violent person, but you can’t say you regret what you did. Jason deserved to be put in his place, and it’s not like you did any serious damage to him anyway. You’re glad you stood up for yourself, for Eddie. You’ve probably tacked “psycho bitch” onto your already unflattering “whore” reputation, but at this point, you’re not sure you care. If being a freak means you get to spend your days with the love of your life, you will gladly accept that label.

After the designated two hours are up, Mrs. Cline dismisses you all.

“Well, that wasn’t so bad”, you say as you and Eddie start making your way through the hall.

“Nah”, he replies, “I mean it’s boring but it’s not bad.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m definitely not planning on having to do this again”, you continue, “but it’s bearable.”

Eddie nods.

“I’m sorry, by the way”, he adds.

“For what?”

“Jason and the others. They’ve been giving you a hard time, right?”

“Yeah”, you shrug, “it is what it is. Not your fault.”

“I mean it kind of is”, Eddie replies, “they’re only doing it because you’re dating me.”

“Eddie”, you say, “Jason’s an asshole, okay? That’s not on you. If he can’t handle our relationship, then fuck him.”

That gets a grin out of Eddie.

“You know, you’re getting to be quite a rabble rouser, Henderson”, he jokes.

“I’m learning from the best”, you tease back.

Eddie’s smile widens. He follows you out to your car and then presses a soft kiss to your lips.

“See you tomorrow, Sweetheart”, he says and then heads off to his van. You watch him go, butterflies still lingering in your tummy from the contact.

If you’d actually had any doubts about Eddie, they would’ve disappeared in that moment. That feeling, it’s a one of a kind thing. No one’s ever managed to give it to you before, and you’re not sure anyone else ever will. You love Eddie. He loves you. He’s sweet, and silly and he treats you right. If your peers want to believe a bunch of bullshit about you two, then let them. You know what you have, and you’re not going to let them ruin it for you.

Grinning to yourself, you hop in your car, put the Black Sabbath tape you borrowed from Eddie into the player and head home.

882 notes · View notes

spiritraccoon · 5 months ago

Text

sweet treat | h. shoyo x reader

a quick little blurb based off of a video i seen on instagram and thought it would be cute<3

this is my first fic in years pls forgive me if it’s wonky :’) regardless i hope you enjoy!! mwah<3

—

your eyes quickly darted over in the living room where shoyo sits on the couch. the curtains were open and the sun was shining through, and the tv was playing one piece.

you smiled to yourself seeing such a domestic sight. though having been with shoyo for a few years now, the warm fuzzy feeling that blooms in your chest never goes away. whether it be he’s doing the laundry, tickling your sides till you’re screaming “stop! i’m gonna pee! i’m gonna pee!” , or picking you up so you don’t have to step in the puddle that's in the middle of the sidewalk regardless of telling him you can walk around it. loving shoyo came naturally, his radiance never fails to keep you warm.

you shifted your attention back to your project at hand. setting up your phone against the fruit basket so that the three glasses in front of you were in frame, you hit the record button.

“sho?” you called, grinning as you glanced over at the living room then back down at your screen.

“babe?” he parrots back, nearly instant.

“mind coming to the kitchen real quick?”

you heard him shuffling, tv now paused his footsteps could be heard getting closer to you. you watched on the phone screen as he came into view, and his arms wrapped around your torso, his cheek pressing into the side of your head. you watched his eyebrows press together in confusion upon seeing the counter.

“what’s this?”

“sit! sit! i have a game.”

he laughs and sits down on the stool, now noticing your phone propped up and recording he sends it a quick wink. his eyes then look confusedly at the three glass cups on the counter, with the center one having a eerily familiar object underneath.

“okay listen just trust me-“

“what is this? what am i doing?”

through your laughs that you couldn’t contain anymore you put your hand up in a ‘hold on’ motion.

“listen! trust me! okay so..” you pressed your hand down on the counter and gave him your full attention while explaining.

“under one of these cups, is your car keys.”

shoyo presses his lips together to suppress a laugh, and he nods along to your explanation. “yeah?”

“yeah. so, i’m gonna turn around for a few seconds, right?”

“uh-huh.”

“and you’re gonna mix them up real good. and if i pick the one with your car keys…”

you pause for a dramatic effect, a glimmer in your eyes as you grin.

“we go get a sweet lil’ treat.”

“ooohh!” shoyo laughs then, he throws his head back and tries to compose himself before looking back down at the cups. the very clear and see through glass cups.

“okay. okay i see, right. yeah-“

“well because, normally i say ‘baby i want a sweet lil’ treat.’ and you say-“

“you have been known to say that once or twice..” you lightly smack his chest, and hold back another laugh, trying to give him an offended look. “.. three times.” he finishes and nods happily to himself. you ignore him.

“and you say ‘okay honey!’ BUT. i’m trying to be better.”

“right.” he crosses his arms over his chest and nods, a grin on his face but trying to keep it serious for you(and failing).

“so instead, we’re gonna leave it up to the universe.”

“riiight, we’re gonna leave it up to chance- got it.”

“if the universe wants me to have a sweet lil’ treat, i’ll pick the one with the keys.”

“it’ll- it’ll give it to you! yeah. yeah! absolutely. why don’t you turn around?”

“okay, okay if you insist.” you laugh through your nose, turning around, leaning against his back with yours.

“i’ll mix ‘em up, don’t you worry.”

“give it a good mix!”

shoyo moves the cups around, middle to left, right to left, right to middle; giving the cups a good proper mix up. and as he’s doing so he’s going ‘woooaah’ each time he switches up two cups. he catches his eyes in the camera, a wide smile on his face as he shakes his head gently at his partners antics. he feels them moving side to side against his back each time he ‘wooah’s’ singing softly; mix em up! mix em up!

“you’re never gonna guess where it’s at. i’m a mixologist over here.”

“you ready?” you question excitedly, itching to turn around.

“yeah! yeah, good luck babe, may the universe be in your favor.”

you dramatically turn around and slap both palms on the counter, looking at the cups a little too seriously, eyes narrowed in.

“i need to use my women’s intuition.”

shoyo laughs at this. “yes! use your womanly instincts to figure out where it’s at.” he reached over one of your arms to hover around a cup before switching to another one, muttering “ooh- ooh is it this one? what about this one?”

you sigh dramatically, pressing a palm up against your mouth, squinting at the cups hard thinking. really selling the whole thing. silence rings throughout the kitchen. shoyo grabs your upper arm in suspense as you hover your hand over each cup. left, right, left, right, left- then your hand quickly goes over the right one and pick it up quickly, removing the (clear)cup that once contained his keys.

you both cheered happily in success, looking at each other with “shocked” expressions. you wrapped your arms around his neck and jostled him around.

“how did you get it?!”

“i would looove some ice cream.” you stated, leaning your face close to his laughing, peeling back before he could smother you with a kiss, heading towards the door to put your shoes on, and keys in your hand, forgetting that you were even recording.

“oh would you?! well we gotta go get some! the universe said so!” he laughs along with you, grabbing your phone and quickly ending the recording you started before following after you quickly to get yourself a well deserved sweet lil’ treat.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 10 months ago

Text

Dirty Work 11

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: Alright, another double duty day.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Her name is Leslie. The nurse with her graying brown hair and square jaw arrives just before eight. You tell her your father’s still in bed as you show her around; you go through the meals you prepped in the fridge and where his meds are and everything else. Still you feel like you’re forgetting something.

“I’ll go get him up,” you say.

“Miss, that’s my job,” she insists.

“Oh.”

“Don’t you worry, I’ve got twenty years under my belt. I’m certain you can see,” she touches the silver along her hairline, “we’ll get him up and at ‘em.”

“Mm, well.. He… isn’t much of a morning person. He can be a bit grumpy,” you warn her.

“That’s for me to worry about. I earn my money, hon. You look like you’re in a hurry,” she puts a hand on her hip, “you can call me and check in, huh? I know it’s hard when you’ve been a caretaker for so long. It’s not easy handing over the reins.”

You falter. Caretaker? You never really thought of it like that. You’re his daughter. You care for him sure, but that’s just what you do. It isn’t the control, it’s feeling like you’re pawning him off on someone else. Like you’re shrugging off responsibility.

“I just… worry about him,” you say.

“That means you’re a good daughter,” she praises, “now off with you. Look at you, all dressed for work. Promise, we’ll send an update at lunch time. By then, I’ve usually got a handle on things.”

You pout and wet your lips with the tip of your tongue, “thank you.”

“It’s my job, and I love it,” she assures you.

You feel a little better as you put your shoes on and say a final goodbye. You can’t help but be nervous. What if she calls you before you can even get to work? What if your dad chases her off? He can be downright nasty when he means to.

You head off with your big leather bag, your body on autopilot as your mind races a thousand miles ahead of you. Everything happened so fast. Your phone call turned into an email and a quick placement. You can’t believe how simple it all was. That’s what puts you on edge. Nothing is ever that easy.

You shudder as you step onto the bus. There’s worry behind you and before you. Certain not to be late again, you take the earlier route. It’s a different driver. The whole change throws you off.

You get to the stop well before your shift begins. You saw a cafe just before the last stop. You teeter, wondering if you have time, or even the money. Your first check cleared and you’ve doled it out almost to the cent. Just a little left for yourself.

You retrace the route to the cafe nestled beside the park and the library. The residential area borders on the more elite properties like Mr. Laufeyson. You can only dream of living in a neighbourhood like this, where you can walk without looking over your shoulder.

The cafe is mostly empty as you enter. You don’t really go to places like this. There’s been a few times you got a tea from MacDonald’s but nothing like this. You look at the menu handwritten in chalk and squint as if trying to solve a puzzle.

“What are we looking at today, miss?” The barista greets. You can’t find the teas anywhere.

“Erm, I wanted some tea, please,” you step up to the counter.

“Sure thing. What kind?” She points to the little board beside her till. Oh.

You read the options; they all sound fancy but you prefer what you know.

“Earl grey, please,” you order.

“Of course. Would you like a fog or plain?”

“Um, I… don’t know,” you cringe.

“No worries, fog is a latte, we steam it up and all that.”

“Uh,” you rub your neck, “I guess I could try it.”

“Alright, plain dairy?”

“Milk, yeah,” you confirm awkwardly as you dig out your coin purse.

You wait patiently after paying. Your cheeks are on fire and you take your drink with a thank you before fleeing. Another place you don’t fit. You inhale the scent of the tea but don’t taste it as the temperature burns your hand through the cardboard.

You already regret the indulgence. You don’t know why you had the thought. The idea of being so early put you off and lingering outside like a creep didn’t sound any better. You set off back towards the Laufeyson abode and blow the steam away as it sleep through the small slotted lid

The gate code, the pathway along the side of the house, the flapping birds and buzzing bees, the smell of pollen and the rustle of leaves. You leave the spring behind you as you let yourself in the back door into the grey silence. You leave your shoes on the mat and wander down the hall.

You’re met by a shadow that appears from around the staircase, almost as if expecting you. You slide to a stop in only your socks as Mr. Laufeyson wears his usual discerning expression. You grip the cup tight as foam seeps through the slot. He looks you up and down.

“That does not belong in the library,” he taps the lid.

You stare at the cup. You should’ve thought about that. You can’t have that around the nice furniture and all those books.

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson, of course,” you accept.

“So…” he glares at the cup.

“Er, Mr. Laufeyson, may I have this in the kitchen? I’m early–”

“Very well,” he allows. “I need to be mindful of time today, yes.”

You nod and retreat, surprised as he follows you into the kitchen. You set your bag at your feet and rest the cup on the counter. You take off the lid to let the heat out.

“I am to be away. I’ll need a bag packed,” he instructs, “your duties will continue in my absence, yes?”

“Mr. Laufeyson,” you put your hand to the side of the cup.

He sighs as he glances at the tea again, “finish that then report to me. I’ve a list.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson.”

He leaves you just as abruptly. You turn to the foamy tea and frown. You’ve not even begun the day and somehow it feels like you’ve already messed up.

🧹

The suitcase awaits you at the door of Mr. Laufeyson’s room. You near and stop before the leather bag, reminded of your venture beyond that door. The disaster of your entry and frantic flight that followed.

You try to shake it off as you grab the suitcase, the list pressing against the handle as it crinkles. You enter and peer around the space. The deja vu nearly chases you out. You cross to the bed and put the bag on top, flipping it open to begin the task.

You want this done as quickly as possible, just as Mr. Laufeyson directed. You smooth out the paper to find his long cursive in neat lines. You can admire the artistry of his hand. Your own writing would look juvenile in comparison.

In the bathroom, you gather up the noted toiletries into a pouch that matches the luggage. It feels intrusive but you try not to think. It’s simple, like an inventory. Nothing deeper than that. The rich scent wafts from the little vial of cologne as you slip it through the zipper, clinging to your fingertips even as you seal it up.

You take the little bag into the room and start on gathering the clothes. A number of shirts and slacks, socks and briefs, ties and cuff links, even shoes. There is no specification of which ones. You slide open the closet and peruse the varying dark shades, only a few crisp white shirts to break the tone, though the ties and pocket square have more diversity.

You’re overwhelmed by the selection. Your own dresser contains as many shirts and pants as you can count. Your newly bought work clothes have proven troublesome as you don’t have anywhere to store them. His own wardrobe is extravagant in both quality and quantity when compared to your own.

You take out a deep blue shirt. It’s satiny and sleek. You’re not sure it’s fit for a family visit. You can assume that’s where he’s off to, though he didn’t confirm it outright. He just handed you the list and shooed you away.

You trade it for a plainer fabric but a similar hue. You take out three as noted on the page and lay them out neatly. Next the trousers. Those will have to match the tops. You hadn’t thought of that though the list is more helpful in this manner; only two pairs, one brown and one black.

Right, but what shade of brown? Tan or dark or somewhere in the middle. Or those ones with the light blue plaid pattern. It’s a bit warm for wool so definitely not that. No tweed either. You grab a black pair and turn back to solve the riddle of what shade of brown to choose.

As you move the hangers slowly over the rod, a scuff from the hallway interrupts your browsing. You don’t look over as you assume it’s own Mr. Laufeyson on his way to his study. You’re surprised as instead he sweeps into the room without announcement, muttering to himself as he does.

“One thing after another,” he murmurs as he tugs on his tie, tearing it loose completely to toss it towards the bed. You’re completely stunned by his entrance, “I swear…”

He nears as if you aren’t even there, his long fingers fleetly unbuttoning his shirt. You blink and back away, averting your eyes from the wet spots spattered across the evergreen linen. You clear your throat and scuttle towards the bed.

“Sorry,” you babble as you try to sidle past him. Flashbacks of that day tinge your memory once more. This time the bed does not obscure your sight.

“You will have someone tend to that damnable sink,” he demands.

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson,” you answer without looking back as you hurry to the door.

“Not this moment, you’re not done packing,” he snaps, “where are you going?”

“Mr. Laufeyson, I just–” you peek at him as he unbuttons his cuffs and rips the shirt down his shoulders. You get a glimpse of his muscles chest and thick arms, “I can come back.”

“You will finish what you started,” he shakes his head as he dumps the shirt onto the bed and turns to face the closet. His back is just as finely formed. You try not to notice as you put your focus to the floor. “I only need a new shirt.”

He flicks through the hangers and pulls out a new piece, shaking it out before slipping his arms into it. You return to the bed and pick up the list. The brown slacks. He doesn’t budge as he buttons his new shirt.

“I do intend to leave today so do not tarry,” he girds.

You flinch and near him. He does not move as you come up to the closet and grab the first pair of brown pants you see. He catches your hand, squeezing it around the hanger as he tisks.

“Not those ones,” he guides your arm as he rehooks the hang on the bar. He draws your grasp off and leads it to another pair, “these will do.”

He lets you go as your hand tingles. As his shirt remains only half-buttoned, it feels strangely intimate. You take the pants and swiftly back away. You go to the bed again and focus on fitting everything into the bag.

You sense him lingering behind you. You hear his fingers work at the buttons then the soft tuck of his shirt tails into his pants, the clink of his buckle as he adjusts his belt. You take the list again, half-pretending to read it.

“I put thought to it,” he stands at the foot of the bed, watching you. The weight of his gaze is like the blazing heat of an open fire. It makes you want to melt. “The gazebo. I would like to have an assessment. If it proves salvageable, then let it be restored.”

You nod as you turn to find the socks noted on the list in the small drawer of the tall dresser. You count them out and spin back. He lowers himself onto the bed, bending one leg up as leans on one hand.

“Have a carpenter in and have them leave an estimate. We’ll review on my return.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson,” you gulp.

He makes no move to leave. He remains, his gaze unwavering. Is this some test? Is it suspicion? You peek over as he pulls his arm back and tugs his cuff over the black and blue watch. Does he think you’ll secret away a silk tie or a pair of socks?

You keep on, with no other option. You have nothing to prove, you know you’re an honest person. You move the pouch into the bag as he hums thoughtfully. You keep your hands moving as you try to fit everything neatly inside.

You look up at him, steeling yourself as you find his green eyes pinpointed on you, “Have I forgotten something, Mr. Laufeyson?”

You stop your hands, clutching tight the fabric in them. He smirks and his eyes fall down. You follow them and find yourself grasping a pair of his briefs. Your lips part and you quickly tuck them in with the rest.

“No, I think you’ve been quite thorough,” he slithers and rises from the bed, “I will be off in an hour, I expect to find my bag by the door.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson.”

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #dirty work #au #maid au #series #avengers #thor #mcu #marvel

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em-harlsnow · 5 months ago

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em idk if ur still doing those tiktok trend requests but my god the "can you watch my boyfriend real quick?" trend is making me SCREAM, i think you would have fun with that one! 💗

hello!!! yes i am still doing it whenever I see one I like. I love this trend, it’s so funny!

Ian may have tiktok, but he’s not very social media oriented in general. Mickey gets nervous when people post pictures of him online anyway because of the cartel, even though Ian’s like 90% sure they won’t see Carl’s twitter with 11 followers.

But then there’s a trend he sees, and he can’t not do it. He just has to try it on Mickey and if that means forcing him in front of a camera, so be it. It’s not like he’ll post it.

Mickey’s eating breakfast in the kitchen when Ian sees the trend and it’s the perfect opportunity. He clicks onto his camera app and starts recording, propping it up in front of Mickey on a candle and making sure he can see that it’s filming.

“Fuck is this?” Mickey asks with his mouth full.

Ian ignores him, instead speaking to his phone. “I need to go out for a bit, can you watch my husband?” He says, smirking, and tussles Mickey’s hair when he starts to leave.

Mickey waves his arms around, clearly confused. “Where the fuck are you going?”

“Grocery shopping, don’t turn off the camera.” Ian calls back, half way out the door.

“Is this some kind of freaky role play?” He hears Mickey yell after him, but he’s already gone.

Mickey’s husband is an idiot.

Once he’s gone and has neither confirmed nor denied that this is a weird role play thing, Mickey glances suspiciously at the camera.

“What the fuck?” He mutters to the empty apartment. “He’s a fucking weirdo.”

He continues eating, finishing his cereal but it’s weird being watched by Ian’s stupid phone.

“Uh… I’m eating my niece’s Froot Loops.” He tells it, holding up his spoon to show the camera. “Ian says I eat like a twelve year old, but Ian eats like a 90 year old so he can’t fucking talk.”

The phone doesn’t reply, just records him silently.

Mickey sighs, tapping his fingers in the counter. “Why’s he always got me doing shit like this?”

He makes eye contact with the camera and glares at it. “This is stupid.” Blowing out a breath, he tries to figure out what Ian wants him to do with this. As he does, he twists his ring around his finger and it gives him an idea. Slipping it off, he presents it to the camera. “See this? This is our wedding ring. We got it engraved last year. Fuck, Ian’s gonna love that I’m talking about his stupid sappy shit. Mine has IG on the inside and his has MM, because he’s soft as fuck.” Even as Mickey mocks him, there’s a shining happiness in his eyes.

Something else catches his eye, and he gets up to grab the flower bouquet on the kitchen counter, bringing it over to the phone. “Look. I got the asshole these. Blue roses. I think they’re fake or they were painted or some shit, but still.”

He sighs again, wondering what else he can show the camera. “I’m tryna find out what he got me for my birthday. I figure he must have hidden it somewhere around here but i can’t find it. Ian won’t tell me.” Mickey leans in close then, whispering at the camera. “Between you and me, I think he’s got it stashed at Lip’s house. But I got it covered, I’ll find it. I got a plan-“

The sounds of keys turning in the lock interrupts him, and he looks to the door guiltily. When Ian comes in, they grin at each other and then Ian kisses Mickey’s head.

Addressing the camera, he says, “I hope he was well behaved.” And then stops recording, watching Mickey roll his eyes.

“What was the point in that, man?”

Ian shrugs, and looks forward to watching it back.

—> send me a tiktok trend and i’ll write a fic!

-> also let me know if you want ian’s reaction to the video

#shameless #gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #ian x mickey #gallavich fic #shameless fanfiction #they’re adorable

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i-jus-wanna-writehappy · 8 months ago

Text

Desperate For You - Toji

18+ minors not welcome

Pairing: ex!Toji Fushiguro x fem!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, masturbation, reader is present in theory, maybe he’s in love with you and doesn’t know how to say that

Author’s Note: I’m not necessarily a Toji girlie (don’t get me wrong, he fine as hell), but I’m a lil stuck on Abundance part 2 and got this quick lil idea. Toji seems a little hard and unfeeling in fics, and I wanted to try something a bit different, I hope y’all like it 😘

• • •

“Hey, make sure you didn’t leave any shit in my bathroom.” Toji calls out to the woman he hears opening the front door to commence her walk of shame. He doesn’t bother looking up to make sure she hears him - her snort and muttered “asshole” as she slams the door was enough to let him know she did - he’s too busy swiping through your latest post on Instagram. The events of the night before are documented on social media for him to see, and Toji finds his length twitching as he scrolls through the set of photos and sees the subtle wear and tear of your drinks and dancing.

Toji used to love when you came home, tipsy and craving to be stuffed until you couldn’t support your own weight anymore and were begging him to please please cum in you. By the time he reaches the final photo, his cock is standing stiff and needy and the rim of your glass is littered with what seems like dozens of lip stains matching your favorite lipstick, making him wish he could see the vibrant color stretched around the base of his cock.

Reaching into his pants to rub the head of his dick with his thumb the way you used to, Toji is hit with an idea, wicked and filthy, which makes it perfect for him. Peeling off his tight shirt, Toji pockets his phone and goes back to his room.

There were a lot of people who would blame Toji for your breakup. Something about nonchalance and jealousy don’t make a good mix and wandering eyes, blah blah blah. One thing no one who had ever spoken to Toji - or seen the way he looks at you - could refute, was that you had the tightest, wettest, warmest pussy he’d ever sunken into, and he’d do whatever he could to feel it again, to feel it now.

For a few ravenous weeks after the breakup, Toji could seduce you into his sheets. Sometimes he’d only have to send you a text in the dark of the night, others, he’d sneak up behind you in line at your regular cafe, placing his hand on your hip and pressing his bulge into your ass like you’d never broken up and he was convincing you to cancel your plans the spend the day in bed with him. In bed, in the tub, in the kitchen, on the floor on the way back to the bed - if he’d have you abandoning your day, he’d be sure to keep you busy. But then, one night, you didn’t respond at all, not even to tell him to get a life or just jerk off, it was just radio silence.

He knew why when the gossipy old greeter at the grocery store the next afternoon called out his name, a playful lilt to her voice, “I’m glad to see at least one of you is moving on. She looked so lovely and happy. Your ex-girlfriend. Expensive restaurant I saw ‘em at too. He must be rich.” Toji sneered at her delighted grin, “Shut up, you old cow.” He called over his shoulder, white hot heat building in his stomach. One date with some nice guy asshole and you can’t even respond to his texts? That’s what was rich, fuck that guy.

But then you stopped responding to any of Toji’s calls or texts, you wouldn’t even give in when he’d tease you about your new boyfriend. You’d even gone so far as to switch cafes so Toji couldn’t intercept your mornings anymore, and it made him furious. What, were you worried he’d convince you to abandon your morals? That he’d be able to pull you into him by your waist and nibble at your neck until you dumped that piece of shit with a video of Toji pounding into your pussy, your ass slapping against his thighs with wet squelches?

He gave up after a while, but a week ago, you publicly became a single woman again, posting your slutty little pictures in a dress your old boyfriend would have begged you to only wear at home, hence his current plan.

Whether you’d like to admit it or not, you craved the sweaty entanglement of your limbs, supplementing your air with his own while you ground yourself on his steadily leaking cock, Toji knows it. All this time, you’ve been unsatisfied, like him, heat building and only able to be extinguished by the other. And without a doubt, Toji was going to exploit your need however he needed, as long as he’d get to drench himself in your juices again.

Phone set up just right and recording his every move, Toji settles on his bed, propped up on his knees, unable to stop the mean chuckle that tumbles from his lips as he pulls his jogging pants just low enough to reveal his heavy balls, twitching at their base for you. As he braces himself with a strong hand on the bed, Toji grips his cock with the other, thrusting into his tight hold and remembering how you’d feel around him.

“Fuuck.” He moans, grunting through gritted teeth as he fights to keep a steady pace. There was a time where Toji teased you meanly for enjoying videos like these, soft, solo, and noisy. Now though, that he seeks to tempt you, he’s glad to know what you like, even if he thinks it’s stupid. What matters is exploding in you again, letting his thick cum build in you until there’s no doubt that he’d bound the two of you forever. Then, he could revel in holding your throat in his grasp and asking you in person if his precious slut was done showing her ass and finally ready to let the veiny surface of his cock leave an imprint in the slick pussy he calls home.

Thinking of being buried in you again lights an urgency in Toji - yeah, he feels good, but he’s ready to send this to you now. The sooner your thighs start to rub together at the sight of his leaking tip, the better. So, chasing the anticipation of fucking you until neither of you can remember how to separate, Toji begins to fuck into his fist rather than letting his calloused hand glide along his shaft, pretending to be yours.

The steadily growing pool of arousal gathering at the ridge of his head begins to produce an almost nostalgic squelching noise. Even more memories of you engulfing Toji’s angry, leaking cock wash over him, pushing a low groan from his throat. With both hands now stacking to cover his length, Toji transitions to irregular thrusts, letting his head fall back for a moment as another grunted, “Fuck.” leaves his lips alternating in a cycle just as irregular as his thrusts as he approaches his climax.

As he feels his balls swell, Toji ramps up his speed, envisioning the soft cock drunk smile you’ll give him in affirmation when he asks if you want more. You always take everything he gives you, for as long as he can give it to you. Always.

Toji almost gets overwhelmed by his orgasm, but he pushes forward, for you. Going back to one hand, Toji hisses quickly before releasing a throaty moan as his cum quickly begins to cover his hand, his continued thrusts smearing the arousal from his head to his base. By the time he’s finally milked himself dry, Toji feels almost lightheaded. He can’t help the dry laugh that passes his lips as he realizes just how much he came. He really really can’t wait to touch you again.

Looking up at the camera now, Toji’s lips stretch into a lazy smile, “‘S all for you, mama.” Toji stops the recording and cuts out the extra bits at the beginning and the end while also maneuvering cleaning himself off. As soon as the video saves, Toji pulls up your contact and sends you a text. He knows you - what you want and what you need - and now that he’s laid his bait, Toji can relax, collapsing down into his couch and waiting for you to bite.

And thankfully for him and his stirring cock, you do. Half an hour after sending the video, Toji’s phone buzzes beside him.

I’ll be home in 20, come meet me. Show up late, and I won’t let you in.

#jjk smut #toji fushiguro #toji smut #toji fushigro x reader #jjk toji #toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #fushiguro toji #toji fushiguro smut

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garbinge · 6 months ago

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Thanksgiving

Richie Jerimovich x Platonic!Reader mention of Carmy Berzatto x Platonic!Reader

30 Day Fic Challenge (15/30)

A/N: Patiently waiting for June 27th lololol

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Light angst, shit talking, cursing (lots), family problems, daddy issues. Mentions of someone losing their life from alcoholism, homelessness, hitting rock bottom.

The Bear Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @quixscentsposts @dadbodfanatic-x @adorable-punk-superheroes @lodeddiperrodrick @isalver @captainweasleybarnes @musicwithteeth @fancyvoidtragedy @shinebright2000 @knight4xmas @gills-lounge @navs-bhat @cosmicak @kmc1989 Other fics from this universe

The knock on your door wasn’t what you were expecting at 11:30 on Thanksgiving night. You weren’t exactly dressed for company in your pajamas, but the knocking was insistent so there wasn’t a way to ignore it or have time to change.

“Jesus Christ, I’m coming!” You called out as you made your way to the entrance and opened the door.

“You don’t look through the peephole before answering the door? I coulda been a murderer.” Richie was standing at the door of your apartment in one of his few nice sweaters with a tote bag in his hand.

“You here to murder me, Rich?” You stepped back and welcomed him in with a sway of your arm.

“I’m here to feed you, you weren’t at Thanksgiving.” He didn’t waste any time from when you invited him in and was already in the kitchen placing the bag down. “Why weren’t you at Thanksgiving?”

You took a deep breath and let out a harsh exhale, this wasn’t something you were expecting to talk about at this moment.

“Um, I’ve had my fair share of unstable parents lately.” You brought your hand up to your head as the past few conversations with your father flashed through your mind quickly.

Richie stopped pulling things out of the tote bag and looked up at you. “Your dad call you again? What was he lookin’ for before? Baseball cards right? You should hook ‘em up with the Faks, they got that baseball card scheme runnin’, the stupid fucks.” He let out a laugh and continued to pull stuff out of the bag.

Any other day, you’d join him in the banter. Any other day you’d enjoy it, but today wasn’t any other day.

“Richie.” You said his name so solemnly and he looked up at you immediately. It broke you seeing his face drop from a smile to a straight mouthed expression but you didn’t have much left in you to take it back. The next best thing you could do was explain. “Uh, Thanksgiving is just–” you paused for a minute as your brain searched for the right word. “It’s a day for me, alright.” You felt yourself get tense, the emotions that you didn’t want to think about, feel, or simply acknowledge were rising to the surface and it was making you angry. Your eyes closed out of instinct, an exercise to push the rage back down, and after taking a deep breath you re-opened them and stared at Richie.

Richie’s face didn’t change, it was still as heartbreaking as before even though it would have been described as neutral.

“How was Donna tonight?” You changed the topic quick and moved over to look at what Richie had in the tupperware containers.

“How do you think?” It was said like the conversation prior didn’t even happen.

“Yea, I figured.” You let out a snort. “She make the cannolis?” Your eyes were scanning around the containers looking for them.

“They’re somewhere in here, let me start putting this shit away and I’ll find ‘em.” He was turning around to face your fridge now. As the door to the cooler swung open, he froze. It went unnoticed by you as you continued to bury your emotions down so you didn’t start a misguided fight.

“What the fuck is this?” Richie was pointing inside the fridge and then at the container on the stovetop. Despite the cursing, he didn’t seem mad or pointed, just confused.

As your eyebrows raised and you turned around to see what he was talking about, you answered quickly.

“Oh, Carmy dropped off food for me last night.”

“Carmy knew you weren’t coming to Thanksgiving?” Now that statement held a little hurt in it, but you acted like you couldn’t tell.

“Carmy knows I never come to Thanksgiving.” You added a shrug to the statement to help make it seem nonchalant.

“I didn’t know you never come to Thanksgiving.” It was mumbled, like he was embarrassed.

“Why would you?” Another shrug left your shoulders and you moved to help him move a couple things in the fridge.

“Because I notice when you’re around.” It was such a soft statement that any other time it would have melted you to your core. But you could tell for him it was also like he was defending himself behind this sweet statement.

The bantering part of you wanted to retort that statement with a ‘clearly not.’ since you hadn’t been at a Berzatto Thanksgiving in over a decade, but with how Richie was talking and where you were at mentally tonight, you knew it wasn’t going to be good for either of you.

“It’s the first year that we’re–,” you stopped yourself at that statement because you didn’t know what you were and this was not the night you wanted to take the time to define it. “It’s the first year you’d actually notice, it’s not a big deal.”

“I guess I just missed you, and feel like something important is happening and everyone knows but me.”

Shocked would have been an understatement. Did Richie Jerimovich just express how he was feeling?

“You been reading that book?” You frowned, a smile forming slightly on your face as you stared up him.

“Fuck you, yea I been reading that book.” The self-consciousness flooding his senses at your look.

“Everyone doesn’t know. Just Carmy.” If you knew the weight the last two words would leave on him, you probably wouldn’t have said them but it was too late, the words were already hanging in the air.

“And the reason Carmy knows is because he’s known since 10 years or whatever ago.” You hoped that would offer up enough explanation to hold him over a bit.

“So what did Carmy bring you?” Richie was moving past you to look into the fridge again.

“Not cannolis.” Moving in the opposite direction you started searching in the bag.

“I brought too much shit, your fridge is stocked, shit’s gonna go bad.”

“What did Pete bring this time?” The clicking of the to-go container muffled your question but it was worth it as you pulled out one of 5 cannolis.

“A fuckin’ pie.” Annoyance was dripping off his tone. He leaned against the counter with his arms crossed.

Your head snapped at him, your mouth full of pistachio cannoli, surprise written all over your face.

“That sounds good.”

“It was fuckin’ rhubarb.” Richie spit out, his arms still crossed and eyebrows frowning as he remembered the pie.

“God, who the fuck likes rhubarb.” Your face twisted in disgust, the shock fully faded now as the realization that Pete didn’t succeed yet again in his gracious hosting gifts this holiday.

“That’s what I fuckin’ said. It’s a god damn vegetable.”

You let out a laugh at that as you took another bite of the cannoli.

“I don’t know why it’s so hard for him.” Now you were just making conversation.

“Never was for you.” Richie shrugged as he recalled what rotation of items you’d bring to different Berzatto gatherings. “Hot chocolate, olive oil, those toffee chocolate things, one year you brought those stuffed olives.”

The shock came back and became very apparent on your face again as you turned to look at him for an answer.

“I told you I notice.” His hands lifted in innocence. “Plus your hot chocolate is the fuckin’ best, hard to forget.”

“There’s some in the pot.” You pointed to the stove but then went to grab two mugs.

The two of you melted into a comfortable silence, the tapping of your wooden spoon as it stirred in the pot of hot chocolate, the metal spoons clinking in the mugs as the liquid poured into them. The TV was at a lulled volume in the background, the slight sounds of Steve Harvey’s voice as family feud reruns ran.

As the two of you were on the last legs of your hot chocolate, Richie spoke up.

“You watchin’ The Game Show Network?” There was humor behind the question mixed with true curiosity as he heard the old school game show mumbling in the background.

“It’s relaxing.” There was no defense in your voice as you said it, mug close to your face. “And it makes me laugh.”

“Relaxing and laughing on Thanksgiving. Not sure I’ve seen that combination in a while.” He was opening your dishwasher to drop the empty mug into it.

You raised your eyebrows at that knowing exactly what he meant and knowing it was 100% true.

“Hey, you wanna go with me somewhere?” Your eyes were looking at the time and seeing it was just a little past 12.

“Where? Everywhere’s closed?”

You had already moved to the other side of oyur kitchen island and were grabbing your coat off the back of the bar chair.

“Can you pack up like 6 containers from Carmy and like 3 of the containers you brought?” It took Richie a minute to understand what you said since you had been bent down slipping into your shoes.

Although confused, Richie did what you said, making sure the cannolis weren’t any of the containers he packed in the tote he had brought over. As you re-entered the kitchen, you peaked in the bag and nodded. Quickly you pulled out a ziploc and took one of the cannolis out and dropped it into the plastic before carefully placing it in the tote.

As the two of you hit the Chicago streets, there were a couple flurries of snow falling, nothing substantial that would stick, but it set a tone. Your one arm was holding onto the the tote back as your hand hid from the cold in your jacket pocket but your other hand moved to wrap around Richie’s arm.

The gesture made him get out of his head and turn to look down at you.

“You wanna tell me where we’re going?” He brought his arm in tighter against yours.

“You’ll see.”

It was all you were willing to give up as you began walking towards Millenium Park.

“Millenium Park after 12AM, sounds like a great time.” Richie was taking his free hand and reaching to grab his pack of cigarettes.

“It actually is.” You spoke with such conviction that it actually shocked Richie. You were so upset earlier and now you were speaking with a hint of hope in your voice.

The music you started to hear as you approached the infamous Chicago Bean filled your face with a smile. You lived in Chicago most of your life so hitting tourist spots like this wasn’t exactly a common occurrence but this was a tradition you kept for yourself and now were bringing Richie into it.

There was a street performer about 20 feet from them, the violin was loud and the acoustics were incredible as it echoed off the landmarks around them. The smile on the man’s face as he played was enough to tell a million stories. He was having fun, despite the cold, the snow, the fact it was a holiday and he was here performing, he was genuinely enjoying this.

“That’s Morgan.” You whispered to Richie like it was a high class secret. “He’s incredible.” You brought your other hand up to rest on his arm that was still holding your other one.

“He brings a crowd.” He was looking around at all the people that were standing around him.

“There’s more people every year.” You said it like a proud parent.

“Every year?” Richie asked, not taking his eyes off the performance.

There were a few minutes of silence as you debated how you were going to answer his question.

“I come here every year. One thanksgiving, I was out here looking for something and ended up coming across Morgan. I come here every year now. The crowd used to be like 5 people and look now.”

“That what the food is for?” Richie was smiling now understanding what the girl was up to.

Just as he spoke the words, the violin sound was cut and the crowd began clapping loudly. “I’m going to take a short break, be back in 5 minutes.” He waved and placed his violin down to take a sip of the water jug he had next to his stuff.

You approached the man and before you could even say anything, he was bellowing a deep hello to you. Following his hug he looked down at the food and shook his head. “You’re always over feeding me, kid.”

“Who doesn’t like leftovers?” You crossed your arms and stepped back slightly bumping into Richie. “Oh, Morgan this is Richie.” You grabbed Richie’s arm and stepped behind him slightly to introduce him.

“Nice to meet you, Richie.” Morgan spoke curiously.

‘Back at you man, you got a real talent, truly incredible.” He turned on that typical Richie charm.

“You humble me, dude. I’m just a Chicago kid tryna enjoy the holiday.” He waved him off.

“Did you get to see Sandra this year?” You spoke with hope in your tone.

“She had me over earlier today.” Morgan was grinning.

“Morgan, that's incredible! From just coffee last year, to thanksgiving this year!” You leaned forward and tapped his arm. “Guess you don’t need my food.” You teased him and went to jokingly grab the bag back but not before he leaned down and blocked you from it.

“Hey now, this is top of the line fine dining food you give me.”

“And I packed a homemade cannoli in there for you.” Richie was smirking at the whole interaction.

“See the man packed little ol me a homemade cannoli, don’t strip a man of a thanksgiving cannoli, now.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” With a step back you wrapped your arm around Richie’s.

Morgan looked down at it and back at the both of you with a wider smile now. “Hope y’all had a lovely Thanksgiving.”

“Think it just got a lot better.” Richie nodded at him and then looked down at you.

“We’ll let you finish your break, but I’m so happy about Sandra, seriously Morgan, that’s great news.” You went to give him one last hug.

“Happy to see you out here with someone this year, seems like you finally found what you were looking for.” He was talking at a volume only you could hear as he hugged you.

“Funny enough, Morgan. I wasn’t looking for it at all. Just happened.” You whispered back.

“The best things do.” He was clearly talking about your friendship, how it came to be out of a time where you weren’t expecting or looking for it all. “Happy Thanksgiving, kid.”

As you moved back into the crowd with Richie, he took the opportunity to link your arms back together as he asked you a question.

“Whose Sandra?”

“The woman who has his wife’s heart.”

The sentence was so heavy, the more thought you put into it, every scenario that it could have been felt more heartbreaking than the last.

His head snapped to you and you nodded. “His wife died from liver disease and she was an organ donor, so her heart went to Sandra. He’d been trying to find her for a while, finally did, at first they wrote letters, last year she met him for coffee, and this year she had him over.”

“That’s incredible.” Richie was in shock. “Why Thanksgiving? Or just because?” He was genuinely invested in the story now.

“Thanksgiving is the night his wife lost her life, but the night Sandra kept hers.” You explained the situation to Richie.

“Holy shit.” He brought his hand up to his face and wiped it down as the weight of it all sunk in.

“What’s he doing out here?” Richie frowned trying to piece that part of it together.

“He kind of lost everything when he lost his wife, his place, his job, his will to live I’d even go far enough to say.” You thought back on the earlier years of meeting Morgan, he was your father’s age, and clearly had experienced loss in his life. That was what bonded you, because while you were going through the biggest loss of your short teenage life at that time, you came across someone who knew what losing someone to alcohol felt like.

“That’s rough.” Richie nodded and before the conversation could really continue, the sound of the music filled the space again and the crowd moved in tighter. Richie and you stayed near the back and despite everything being fine between you two, you felt the tension from earlier coming back.

It was hard for you to talk about it, but Morgan’s words about finding what you were looking for were in your head and it made you realize, maybe you could open up a bit about it all.

One thanksgiving, I was out here looking for something and ended up coming across Morgan. I come here every year now.

That one thanksgiving, you were out here looking for your Dad, your drunken dad, you later found him at the bus stop across from The Beef. He didn’t see you, but you saw him, fully packed, despite his inebriated state, he had thought through leaving enough that he packed bags.

With a sigh, your arm squeezed tighter around Richie’s and you said 5 words that you hoped would be enough to explain to Richie why today was so hard for you without having to dive into so much detail.

“My dad left on Thanksgiving.”

#The Bear #The Bear FX #The Bear Fanfiction #The Bear fanfic #richie jerimovich #Richie Jerimovich x Reader #Richie Jerimovich Fanfiction #Richie Jerimovich fanfic #garbinge #my best friends cousin #my writing

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