#reversible napkins | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tetzoro · 2 months ago

Text

☽◯☾ - THE LOVE COOK

꒰ synopsis ꒱ : Sanji has always had an affinity for cooking but nothing could ever compare to cooking for you. But his plan backfires and he realizes he’s in for more than he bargained for.

꒰ content ꒱ : MDNI. perv!sanji x dom!reader ; minor food play, handjob, minor cum play, lots of praise, unprotected sex, creampie, cunnilingus, usage of good boy (once), — WC : 4.6k

⭑ 𓂃 ꒰ Waxing Crescent ! ꒱ — kinktober masterlist

Sanji's always had an affinity for cooking. Since he was young, his love for it wove into the depths of his very being, one of the things he greatly identified with.

Under Zeff's vigorous training, the young cook fought to chase his passion, learning everything he could in what it meant to be a chef that was fit enough for the seas. And as time went on, it only strengthened. Year after year of trying new recipes, of feeding people who were hungry and above all, never wasting a drop — the bond grew along with him.

But as he got older, there was a new bonus for cooking. One that was filthy and always left him feeling like a perv, and yet — he couldn’t stop indulging himself.

Sanji really, really loved cooking for women.

It's honestly sinful how much he enjoys serving them food. How he makes sure his fingers grace their lap with a napkin — the fleeting touch of their thigh sending a thrill throughout his body, always ensuring to push in their chair a little too tightly so their chest presses against the table, and of course, feeding them a heartfelt compliment here and there while eating up their flustered state.

Every cook loves to see the reaction their food can evoke in people but Sanji takes it to a new level.

Women ooh and aww over his cooking, after that first bite he can clearly see it written all over their beautiful face’s. The direct line of pleasure he supplied them effortlessly coating their features, eyes rolling to the back of their head at the divine taste of their favorite foods.

But the real treat is when he hears their moans of approval. Quiet, loud, breathless, guttural, he’s heard it all. It's only natural that he savors the sound in the deepest banks of his memory to touch himself to those keepsakes later, pairing it with their heavenly expressions as his fist closes around his cock.

So when he finally has you as his little taste tester, sitting across from him as he serves you, the game changes. Suddenly, all of the other women he’s served pale in comparison to your reaction.

The moment the dessert coated fork touches your mouth he can see the explosion of gratification before him and he counts every blessing he has front row seats.

The small smile that graces your face, licking the extra cream off your lips as if you couldn’t get enough, an elongated yet quiet hum followed by his name and whatever praise you had for him immediately had his cock swelling in his trousers, pushing against the tightness of the fabric.

For a breath, he was just as dazed as you, watching your signs of contentment, your taste buds positively satisfied with all the flavors he lovingly poured into the dish.

But he needed more.

He needed to hear your praise once again.

“You like it?” Sanji barely managed to ask, straightening up as he tried to hide his lower half behind the counter.

“Like it?” You swallow down the food, your pretty eyes meeting his and he feels as if he was brutally shot by cupid's arrow, headshotted and left without any hope of being saved. “I love it.”

Something electric buzzed in the room that felt far too foreign to Sanji. Compliments would always effortlessly spill from his lips as easy as breathing but the way you were looking at him whisked every last drop of air from his lungs, suffocating them with the addicting allure of your praise.

The roles were suddenly reversed and now you were the one who was eyeing him.

Stalking up like a panther ready to strike, you rise from your chair and make your way over to him with a dark look in your eye he hasn’t been privy to before. Each movement was dragged out, languid yet precise. Like this was the moment you had been patiently waiting for and the thought drove Sanji close to madness.

“Mon-cheri–” Sanji started as he backed up against the counter under the intense aura you were emitting. It wasn’t a well thought out plan as you begin to corner him, effectively catching him in your little trap. He can’t lie and say the energy didn’t excite him, but it was certainly unexpected. Far too long he had been pining over you, dreaming of a moment like this but now that it’s here, he’s not so sure what to do.

“You know what would make this taste even better?” A redundant question as you don’t give him a chance to answer.

Taking your pointer finger, you gently scoop up some of the whipped cream off of the delicious pastry that Sanji had ever so graciously made for you. With a measured stroke, you glide his cherished creation down his neck, along his pulse point so you can feel how vigorously it races for you, his heart throbbing viciously against the chamber of his ribcage.

“W-what are you doing?” The question falls flat, dithery nerves striking up a cord within him that had him wanting to reach for his nearest cigarette to cope with the heart palpitations you were giving him with each move you make. “Wait, don’t waste it!”

“Waste it?” You tilt your head as you stand before him. His hands clutch onto the edge of the counter behind him in an attempt to steel himself. A soft puff of air caresses Sanji's skin moments before you lean in with your tongue peeking out of the confines of your mouth. dragging the pink muscle along his neck, you hum in approval at the sweet taste. “Just what I thought, even sweeter.”

His face burns red, the flames desperately licking at his cheeks under the sear of your compliments. Normally, he would be the one gifting them out, carried with a sweet melody of adoration. The energy he so readily gives out is now crashing back at him in full force and the poor cook can only tremble in anticipation.

Sanji's eye pinches shut in hopes of taking a moment to gather himself. But you were equipped with another dose of admiration, ready to pour it over him until he felt drowned in affection.

“You have such a pretty face, Sanji.” You push his hair back, revealing both of his closed eyes. “And beautiful eyes, I wish you’d show them more.”

Your wish is his command after all.

Slowly, Sanji's eyes begin to open — showcasing the birth of a new day as he reveals the beautiful blue that pools in his irises. The kind that reminds you of the All Blue book he’s shown you countless times when the two of you would curl up together while keeping watch for the ship. But once they lock onto yours, they abruptly morph into the stormy seas of the new world, holding the utter excitement of uncharted territory that’s waiting to be claimed.

“What are you doing?” Sanji asks the question again.

“Nothing.”Your voice carries a silken lilt that smoothes over him like a balm. “Nothing you don’t want me to do, at least.”

“Like what?” He breathes out. If it wasn’t for the close proximity due to you crowding him in the small corner of the kitchen, he doubts that you would’ve picked up on his shaky words.

“Oh Sanji,” The giggle that spills from your lips has his knees buckling, hands twitching to touch you and he swears he might fall over for a moment from the mountain of sheer desire he’s trying to hike through. “Don’t be so coy. You’re the one that’s always flirting with me ever since I joined the crew, did you not mean all the wonderful things you said?”

“O-of course I meant them!” Sanji's face becomes coated in a dark pink once again, the blush spreading throughout his cheeks as blood starts to drip from his nose. He quickly catches it with his hand, all too acutely aware of his traitorous body. “I'd never lie to you, my sweet.”

“Then don’t act so surprised.” Your hands slide up his arms, eyes intently watching him as he shudders under your touch. “And let me kiss you.”

Without another breath, lips softly collide. An explosion of shooting stars burst between the two of you as sparks caress your body. It's tender, unpracticed, and entirely wonderful. Utilizing small movements as you slowly figure out the rhythm of each other's mouths. How do his lips move? How do yours? How could they mold together so you can share the same breath?

After a few moments, you begin to gel against his – growing needier, craving more. Suddenly, the little pecks aren’t enough and your senses long to be invaded by everything that makes him up.

So, you boldly take the first step, your tongue pokes out to trace along his lip, feeling him out while your taste buds engrave the flavor to memory. His tongue follows suit, the soft muscle touches yours and after that, you blur into each other.

Like waves that grace the shoreline, you find a steady tide of give and take — back and forth as you learn what he likes, what will draw him back in, what will pull him under your current.

Following a steady motion that you two create together, your own song dedicated to your souls courting each other, dancing around feelings the other had been too scared to speak of.

Reluctantly, your lungs scream for reprieve so you pull apart, a thread of saliva connecting you as you pant heavily, breaths fanning each other's face.

Sanji’s blown out eyes are stuck on your lips and you realize that air be damned, nothing would nourish you more than the way he kisses every emotion he’s ever held for you against your lips, grabbing at you like you’re the very thing that’s keeping him tethered to this world.

Another collision and you’re back to it — more desperate than before. The few moments you went without him felt like eons and you had to make up for lost time. A reunion that proceeds past this lifetime, one that was premeditated as the connection only strengthens with each glide of your lips.

His tongue swirls around your own, hungered grunts breaking out from deep within his chest as he grows addicted to the way you taste. Hands grasping and pulling along your body as if he needed more, needing to fully melt into you.

And you’re more than ready to let him.

Leading him to the couch, he lands with a soft thud before you begin to straddle him. The anticipation drums in his ears, blood pumping at an abnormal rate as it figures out where to flow. So much has already pooled all the way to the tip of his cock, painfully pressing against the confines of his trousers. The rest threatens to gush from his nose at an alarming velocity and it’s taking everything in him to hold it back.

All of Sanji's muscles grow taut in an attempt to reign himself in, locked in place as he waits for you to make your move to do something that would hopefully help relieve him of this agonizing pressure. He was simply pretty putty that laid in your tender yet tantalizing hands, leaving you to pick him apart and shape him into whatever you wished for as long as you just kept playing with him.

“How pretty.” You coo as you get rid of his suit trousers, freeing his needy cock by sliding the fabric down his thighs a little. Through a practiced motion, you spit into your hand, wrapping it around his length to spread some more slick.

Sanji gasped, jaw hanging open once your fist closed around his leaking tip, giving it a gentle squeeze.

His face said it all — he was looking up at you with such awe and desire. The kind that made him think you strung up all the stars and moon just so the beams would cascade along your skin so beautifully — just as it is now.

Pockets of light illuminate you so he can see everything you’re doing through an ethereal filter that the heavens themselves must’ve constructed.

“You’re beautiful.” He whispered, jerking into your divine hand. The honey coated compliment was so sincere, genuine, uttered in a complete state of reverence. It melted your heart to see him still wanting to give so much even though your intention was to focus on him.

Sanji deserves to be worshiped. It’s something you’ve thought to yourself for quite some time. sure, he could be a bit much sometimes, going over the top with compliments and relentlessly chasing after women.

But after spending so much time at sea with him, you’ve started to peel back the layers behind the woman chasing persona he loves to wear so much. To the man who had unshakeable morals, who protected those who needed protecting, to feed every hungry person — friend or foe.

Sanji has so much to give, so generous with all the love he holds in his body. The love he so desperately wants to receive back but hides it behind cheesy pick up lines that can be dismissed with a laugh.

But enough was enough. It was Sanji's turn to be adored, to be told all the beautiful things about himself while you stroke his cock and coo at him until he spills all over your hand.

Which is exactly where you had him now.

“You’re so sweet, Sanji.” You pepper a kiss along his jaw and to his scruffy chin, wrist leisurely flicking as you hold his cock in your hands. It was pretty, which was fitting. Long with a tip so red you thought he might burst. Luckily, most of the blood stayed pumping between his thighs rather than from his nose. For now, at least.

“You’re the aah-“ His blonde locks toss as his head hangs back, heavenly bliss whirling around him as he curls his toes — trying not to cum so quickly. He was so sensitive but he wanted more, greedy for everything you were more than ready to give him. “Sweet one.”

“No, no, Sanji.” You lightly nibble on his ear and his hips stutter up with a loud groan. “You’re going to listen to me, okay? If you want me to keep going, you just have to sit there and be good for me. No complimenting me, no trying to please me, we’re focused on you right now, okay?”

Sanji didn’t know what to say. Primal instinct told him to sit there and be quiet but how could he when you were an angel sent down from heaven, just for him? The pleasure you were feeding a starving soul like him was too good to pass up.

“Okay.” He manages to choke out as his release pools deep into his gut, threatening to spill out everywhere. All he needed was that extra push.

“Good boy.” The phrase falls out of your mouth like a purr and he immediately cums into your hand with a whine, biting his lip trying to stay quiet. You don’t stop your movements as you press your lips against his, swallowing his whimpers as you start to overstimulate him.

But you’re merciful, and you don’t want to punish him. The only thing on your mind is making him feel loved, feel wanted, feel adored.

“Let me —” Sanji starts to move, adjusting himself to tuck his half-hard cock away.

“Ah, ah, ah.” The smirk that takes up your face was killer as you brought your messy hand toward your mouth. You make a small show of playing with it, feeling how sticky it was, how it ran down your finger before plopping it into your mouth. “Don’t want to waste any of it, right?”

Sanji couldn’t even speak, the words stolen right from the tip of his tongue as yours danced between your fingers, removing every trace of him. You move down to kneel in front of him, the gasp he lets out sending a shiver down your spine. Anticipation bubbling up inside of you as lust pools in your gut, starting to burn with need.

Holding his half-hard cock in the palm of your hand, you swirl your tongue around, cleaning up the residual mess he made with a few precise movements. You lick along the length, feeling him hardening under your ministrations.

It only encourages you to engulf him in your mouth, showing him how far you could take him down your throat. Sanji groaned in response, fingers digging into your hair as his thighs tensed.

Once you’re finished, you remove your own panties from under your skirt and climb into his lap to straddle him once again.

“Sanji, you really are just so sweet.” You repeat your words from earlier, gliding your now bare, drooling cunt against his stiff cock, “Makes me want to eat you up.” You pause, sucking a mark along his neck before whispering in his ear. “…devour you.”

Sanji was truly at a loss for words. Always the one so readily equipped with a line to show his undying admiration was now struggling to string together a coherent thought as your slick started to cover him.

“Like look at these wondrous hands.” To make a point, you hold them up as you continue to grind against him. “Always providing for us, making the world's most delicious food and spoiling us to your heart's content.”

Tugging his hands, you make sure they cover your chest so he can get a proper squeeze in that causes his nose to drip yet again, his cock undoubtable leaking with more pre-cum.

“I'd do anything for you.” He whispers, thumbs gently brushing over your nipple. Sanji was eerily quiet for a moment as he caressed the plush of your flesh, transfixed on the sight before him.

“Anything?” The question hangs in the air as you brush his bangs to the side. His slightly sweaty forehead helped keep some of the pieces tucked from his eyes, both of his eyebrows now on full display – just like you wanted.

“Anything.” He breathes the word out like a prayer, a promise that he’d never deny you of what you’d ask of him.

“Are you ready for me?” Your thumb trails along his parted lower lip, his darkened eyes hazy with an overwhelming lust but entirely set on you.

“Please.” He moans as you line up your soppy entrance with his cock, slick with your saliva and twitching with need.

“Anything for you, monsieur.” Slowly, you lower yourself on his cock, letting him feel every inch of himself bury into you at an agonizing rate. Your wet, welcoming walls greedily sucked him in, wrapping snuggly around him so tightly that his head grows blank.

Sanji's moans fill the room, his hands gravitating toward your waist as if it was pulled by another force, thumbing circles against your skin. It's taking everything in him not to bury his fingers into you and slam you down onto his cock, letting the most primal part of him mount you and take you in a way that directly challenges his morals.

The pace catches him off guard, fingers quickly moving to dig into the scratchy fabric of the couch. It wasn’t enough to steady him, the precipice of his release hastily rising at a rate he could barely keep up with.

The way your warm walls constrict around him, enveloping him in a way that makes him think you never want to let go. He barely has enough strength to pound up into you, opting instead to capture your nipple in his mouth, latching on while his hand caresses your other breast.

Sanji has always had a silver tongue, able to sing the sweetest praise and compliments toward any woman within a 20 foot radius. But you never thought about how well his mouth would be used in other ways. His soft tongue caresses your pert nipple, hardened by the contact and the slightly chilly air in the kitchen.

Lithe fingers gently pinch your other one, before trailing down along your sides and slipping between your thighs to roll your neglected nub between his digits. The sudden pressure gives your body an electric jolt, lurching forward and pressing your chest into Sanji's face more.

Each roll of your hips earned another tender groan from the man below you, lost in a haze as you continuously fed him the sin that he had been craving for as long as he can remember. He pulls back from between the valley of your breasts, looking up at you with hearts flitting around in his eyes, his cock twitching in tune with its beat.

“Want you to come for me, mon-cheri.” He releases his mouth from your breast, looking up at you, limbs still twisted around you as he drives into you harder.

“Yeah? Want me to come all over your pretty cock?” You mewl, pressing your body flush against his as your own thighs start to tremble.

“Yes, please! I need it, need to come with you.” Sanji’s voice almost cracks under the intensity, gripping onto your shaky thighs as he begins to meet you thrusts, fucking himself harder into you. Your body jiggled under the intensity, spiraling you to your high and threatening to unravel you to your very core if you let go.

So you did – letting the blinding white wash over your vision, course and tremble through your body as he fills you up with ropes of cum. Sanji all but whined, biting his lip in pure ecstasy as he teeters over the edge of oblivion.

The two of you try to catch your breath, a pair of lovers leaning against each other more out of necessity than comfort – but it was welcomed nonetheless. Sanji drew little circles along your back, the glide of his fingers soothing you back down from your high.

He gives you a quick kiss on the forehead, moving you so you’re sitting on the couch, your head lolling to the back of it as you stare up at the ceiling.

Sanji shakily rises to his feet, swiftly moving toward the kitchen to get a fresh cloth to clean up the mess between your legs. But his keen eye spies something else that might serve more of a purpose right now.

“May I ?” Sanji asks, kneeling down from where you are sitting on the couch, gently wedding himself between your knees. Taking the whip cream he had swiped on his finger, he drags it along your inner thigh and throbs at the way you gasp in surprise. “After all, I still haven’t gotten my own taste yet.”

“But I told you –”

“Oh sweetheart, I know what you told me,.” Sanji pries your legs open a little more, licking his lips as he takes in the way his cum is oozing out of your pulsing cunt. “Would you really deprive me of this?”

The sheer eagerness fills his eyes like wide saucers. The over enthusiastic man before you was more than ready to please you now, holding back this entire time as you had your way with him. He had been so patient that maybe he did deserve a reward.

“No.” Your voice is a little quieter yet filled with unbridled curiosity. The ghost of his tongue gliding over your nipples earlier resurfaces and you shudder in delight.

“Good, so good for me.” Sanji praises, licking up the stripe of frosting that laid defensively on your inner thigh, dragging it all the way to your cunt. The soft breathes from Sanji tickled at the sensitive flesh and had you trying to squirm away. But he had quick reflexes, gently digging in fingers into your hips and pulling them closer to his face. “Wouldn’t want to waste a drop.”

Sanji lapped at the cum dripping out from your entrance, ensuring to clean up all of the mess he left behind. The taste of your shared essence hit his taste buds and he swears he’s never tasted anything better. Groaning into your cunt, he clutches onto your plushy thighs and begins to eat you out like a starved man.

The vibrations from his guttural grunts directly attack your clit. The hot flash of pleasure coursed through your veins, spreading along to every nerve that was attached to your body, singing out in ecstasy as your thighs began to tremble and lock around his head.

For added leverage, you weave your fingers through the soft, pretty strands of his blonde hair, tugging on them like reins that will steer you right to the climax you were steadily building towards.

“‘m close.” You gasp, not giving him a chance to move his head as he’s locked in. But you don’t hear one noise of complaint – instead, it was just another groan of approval that ripped through your body and pushed you towards the edge.

Stars burst behind your eyes, your mouth hanging open in a silent scream as Sanji worked you through your orgasm, squeezing out all the pleasure before overstimulation started to bite at you. Using his hair, you pull him apart from your sensitive cunt. The blissed out smile on his face no doubt mirrored your own.

“magnifique.” Sanji breathed out, watching as your chest heaves under the fight to catch your breath, your lungs desperately gulping down air as it took everything in you to float back down from your high. He leaves a wake of gentle kisses along your inner thigh paired with the soft praises he coos at you. “The heavens orchestrated this moment for us, my own little angel coming down to save me.”

Sanji places one last kiss on your knee, tempted to go all the way down your leg and worship every inch of your skin. He rises back up, grabbing the cloth he had originally set out for and returns back before humming a tune that you hadn’t heard before.

“What’s that song?” you ask softly, body twitching in anticipation as Sanji runs the cool cloth between your legs and being very careful not to overstimulate you. Too much. His eyes flash up towards yours once you speak, his attention always set on you no matter what task he’s working on. This was no exception.

“There used to be a beautiful singer that would visit the Baratie when I was younger. She’d come in every few weeks and sing for everyone there.” He goes on to tell the story while still cleaning you up, kissing every freckle and mole he can spot as the cloth tenderly glides along your skin. “She sang many songs but this one was my favorite. It was a love song that told the story of a couple who longed to find adventure together, going as far as transcending time and space to meet each other in every life.”

“That's lovely.” You give a small smile as he finishes. Sanji reaches for your panties, sliding them back up your legs before it’s back where it belongs. His palms caress down your thighs as he rises back up, pressing a warm kiss against your forehead that made your head all fuzzy. “I've never heard you sing before.”

“Then you should come into the kitchen more often while I’m cooking, Mon-Cheri. I'm always humming a tune.” His thumb trails along your bottom lip – mesmerized at how swollen and kiss-bitten it was. You push forward, giving it the slightest amount of pressure as you return the favor.

“Maybe I will.” Sanji gives you a little wink, stepping back for a moment as he fishes through his pockets to find what he’s looking for.

“It would be my greatest honor to have the most beautiful person in all of the seas accompany me during my tedious tasks.” Sanji flashes his most charming smile before he places a cigarette in his mouth and sets it aflame with his trusty gold lighter. “Now, let’s have you finish your sweet treat so I can indulge in mine again after.”

tags : @ambiguouslady42 ᡣ𐭩

#☆ 𓂃 Kinktober !#◟˚. ☁️ ⋆ daydreams.#sanji x reader #sanji smut #one piece smut #one piece x reader #op smut #op x reader

487 notes · View notes

daisynik7 · 1 year ago

Text

You shuffle into the kitchen, wrapped in your favorite throw blanket, hoodie covering your head, sniffling. Nanami leans over a steaming pot on the stove, giving you a small grin as you approach him. “Hi,” you mutter, congested from your nose down to your chest.

With a sympathetic pout, he replies, “Hi honey.” He checks you for a fever and when he senses none, he bows slightly to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Soup is almost ready.”

His homemade chicken noodle soup always hits the spot, especially when you’re sick like this. It’s hearty, full of fresh vegetables and shredded chicken, always filling you up with comfort that temporarily eases the aches in your body. You sit at the dining table, cuddling yourself tighter within the blanket, feeling pitiful in this sorry state you’re in.

He ladles the soup into a big bowl, setting it in front of you with a small piece of a baguette next to it. You sniff it, letting the soothing aroma fill your nostrils, warming your entire body. He scoots a chair next to you, grabbing hold of the spoon to scoop a generous bite, blowing on it delicately to feed you. While you enjoy being pampered during your moment of weakness, you can’t help reaching for his hand, saying, “You really don’t have to do this, Kento.”

He ignores your protests, giving you another cooled-down spoonful. “I know I don’t. But I want to.”

You shake your head, arguing more. “But you’ve already done so much – ”

He cuts you off, shoving a piece of bread into your mouth to shut you up, affectionately of course. “Let me do this for you, sweetie. Let me take care of you just like you do for me.”

You chew slowly, relenting to his stubbornness, just as he would do to you if the roles were reversed. Still, part of you doesn’t feel like you deserve this, deserve him. You let the thought escape you, asking out loud, “Why do you do so much for me?”

He smiles at you, eyes crinkling with kindness. “Because I love you and I want to take care of you. Is that so hard to believe?”

You nod, wiping your nose with a tissue from your pocket. “You’re too good for me.”

He chuckles, patting the corners of your lips with a napkin. “Now I know you’re really sick if you’re saying ridiculous things like this.”

“I’m serious! You’re the perfect man, and I’m just…me.”

Nanami removes the hood from your head, cupping your cheek lovingly. “But that’s why I love you so much. Because you’re you. And that’s what makes you perfect.”

You melt into his touch, already feeling the nourishing effects of the soup throughout your weakened body. He helps you finish the rest of the bowl, topping the meal off with a hot mug of tea with honey and a squeeze of lemon. Then, he leads you to the couch, massaging your temples until you fall asleep on his lap. Leave it to your husband to know exactly the remedy to make you feel better.

#divider credit to @/saradika #self-indulgent because I am currently SICK #nanami fluff #nanami kento #kento nanami #nanami x reader #nanami x you #kento nanami fluff #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff

1K notes · View notes

sugurusfavemonkey · 15 days ago

Text

PDA

summary: JJK men and how they do public displays of affection - headcanons. warnings: suggestive themes (mostly with Sukuna and Toji, the rest of these are more on the tame side); gn reader; pairing: multiple (separately) Nanami x reader, Gojo x reader, Geto x reader, Choso x reader, Toji x reader, Sukuna x reader

Nanami

Nanami never gave much thought or even partook in "public displays of affection". Similarly to most areas in his life, he tends to keep his cards close to his chest, yet you've noticed that ever since you started dating Kento he stands just a little bit closer when next to you - It's as if you're the sun he orbits around and that's exactly what if feels like for him.

His acts are made with subtlety.

Whenever you're walking into a room together his hand easily finds your lower back guiding you with a gentle touch.

Like the gentleman he is Kento enjoys having your hand in the crook of his left arm, it keeps his right arm free in case the need to protect you ever arises.

Nanami keeps one hand on the steering wheel and the other on your thigh as he drives. A reminder and also a tether. A small smile on his lips when you rest your hand over his to play with his fingers.

Despite his earlier claims of not being one for openly exhibiting his love, Nanami adores when you reach for his cheek, looking to drop a kiss as thanks for his latest kind deed. Like a magnet to your lips, he automatically bends closer until he feels the soft touch, eyes fluttering closed and a soft red hue rising from his neck.

。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。

Gojo

Satoru does not understand the concept of subtlety. He goes heavy on the PDA.

Gojo had nearly forgotten what a kind touch felt like. He's been pushing every one away ever since he learned to use reverse cursed technique to keep his infinity on at all times, he's been pushing every one away.

It's been so long that Satoru has become touch starved - and you. You are the meal he craves to feed his appetite.

That being said, the opportunity to have you in his arms has that man dropping his infinity faster than you can blink.

One arm constantly slung over your shoulders, pulling you closer still as if your body wasn't already pressed to his side or dropping his entire body weight over yours when he spots you laying down to get some rest on the communal room's couch, heedless to the huffed breath leaving your parted lips at the sudden weight and burying his face on your chest.

"Satoru. You're crushing me you big log."

"Too bad."

Satoru offers to carry you if you seem tired and, sometimes, does it anyway even when you deny the offer, eliciting a flurry of cussing as he throws you around as if you're weightless. He is the strongest after all.

But mostly, he marvels at the small touches. Getting lost in watching the way your fingers fit in between his, the softness of your skin and the warmth of your touch feels like an entire new experience every time. Basks in the touch of your lips when you drop a kiss to his cheek as you pass behind his seat. Even your light slaps against his arm when he is annoying you.

。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。

Geto

Suguru does it in small acts: his hand brushing yours when you're walking side by side, rubbing your shoulders when you complain about a knot and dropping a kiss to your head when you sigh in relief or bending over the table and holding onto your chin so he can dap a napkin on the corner of your lips where he spot a crumble of whatever you had been eating (he loves your bashful reaction to this one, his lips lifting into a near imperceptible smirk).

Suguru would never admit it, but he is a possessive man - He enjoys making it known you're with him. He will greedily kiss you in public, one hand at the nape of your neck and the other resting on your throat, a subtle reminder - for you or the audience, you're not as sure.

He remember the first time you timidly asked if you could brush and tie his hair for him.

"I promise I will be careful!" as if he could ever deny you anything.

And you kept your promise, your touch tender and slow, avoiding catching onto any knots as you ran the brush through his soft tresses. The feeling of your finger on his scalp has him nearly purring in contentment.

Ever since then, no matter if you're alone or with company, he will wordlessly hand you his brush and tie before sitting in front you.

"Not fair! You never let me do your hair!" Satoru had whined petulantly the first time he witnessed the scene, but had been just as easily dismissed:

"That's because you'd probably get me bald, Satoru."

Mostly, Suguru adores the way you will kiss him right after he swallows curses.

He knew you would still be able to taste it. He tried to push you away at first, because, if anything, he wants to protect you from that perversion, keep you as far away from the corruption, but you've seen the way he winces after swallowing the orb and you... you want to protect him as well, if only you could make the experience a little less foul, a little less painful, just a tine bit sweeter...

For what it's worth, your intent seems to work. For the first time, Suguru doesn't feel dirty after using his technique. Your kisses acting like a cleansing balm, your warmth melting away the putridity, and Suguru came to need your kisses after every new curse added to his collection. And you don't mind doing it one bit, be it just the two of you or near other sorcerers.

It still tastes dreadful, mind you, but it does makes his life just a little bit clearer.

。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。

Choso

For a 150 year old one would expect perhaps some experience, but for Choso everything is new. He has never felt this before, the constant longing to be near someone.

He is needy.

Choso always has to be touching you: back, arm, hand, thigh... wherever he can reach. Not blatant, no. More like resting his hand somewhere - even better if he can feel your skin against his fingertips.

Holding your hand under the table when you sit next to him, switching to resting his hand on your thigh when yours become busy and resting his thigh against yours when his are.

Choso loves to have you in his arms, hugs you to his chest whenever you ask as if he wouldn't have you in his arms all hours of the day given the possibility. It's the same feeling he gets when you're introducing him to your favorite movies alongside Yuji - "cuddling" as you had called it, your head resting on his chest and your arms around his middle.

He doesn't mind kissing you in front of others, in fact, he does so with abandon. You look especially flushed when he interrupts your rambling with a soft kiss to your lips.

"What was that for?" you ask quietly after recovering from the surprise, but Choso merely shrugs in response.

Sometimes you're be the one stealing kisses from him, his cheek, forehead, lips, nothing will be left untouched. Choso flushes easily with each peck, but instead of acting bashful, he simply pulls you in closer to kiss you back because loving you comes easy.

。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。

Toji

Toji is vulgar with it.

It makes sense considering how brash he usually is in his daily life. He takes what he wants, whenever he wants it and you're just happy to go along with it.

Toji is the kind of guy who smacks your ass when you pass by or bend over in front of him. What can he say? He likes your ass. Simply resting his hands on your ass with a few occasional squeezes for good measure will have his mood boosted for the day.

He does not much care for affectionate touches nor tender displays of affection in public, but Toji will throw an arm over your shoulders as you walk alongside him and pull you in if he catches someone ogling what's his.

Toji also doesn't mind kissing you deeply and brazenly in front of an audience, commanding your lips open with his tongue and exploring your mouth until you're left gasping for hair as one hand keeps your head in place while the other, once more, finds your ass.

Satisfied with the state he's left you in, he won't hesitate to throw you over his shoulder so you can finish this in private - not that he wouldn't enjoy just bending you over right then and there, but he still takes your own wishes into consideration.

。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。

Sukuna

"Public displays of affection?" he scoffs.

Sukuna couldn't care less for that. He is entirely indifferent to the concept. Public displays of ownership, on the other hand... that he could get behind.

Leaving purple blotches along the column of your throat, bites and bruises, scratches and red marks all over your skin. Sukuna revels in the sight of them: it means you belong to him. Just as does have you sitting on his lap. Why bother occupying a different seat when his legs are right there?

Sukuna is not opposed to your touch, not really. He allows it whenever you reach for a touch or to hold onto him. Sukuna secretly like the intimacy.

The King of Curses is a foodie.

He has surpassed most human needs but he still enjoys eating, especially when you're the one feeding him as you sit on his lap, your legs on either side of his. Sukuna occasionally and purposedly bites or licks the tips of your fingers for remainders of the delicacy you so nimbly offered him, which in turn causes you to flush and surreptitiously adjust yourself on his lap. Sometimes he will grab a bite of whatever it is you're serving him and press it to your lips, watching intently as they close around his own fingers and waiting ardently until you swallow before licking into your mouth for the aftertaste of the food.

A/N: this is m first JJK "fanfic" so be kind, please... and expect more to come (probably more in dept one shots with these specific characters and/or Higuruma). I'm gonna post an intro + a masterlist (even though this will be the only work listed in it for now) next. See you there (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

#Mavi writes #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #nanami kento #jjk fanfic #nanami x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #geto suguru #geto x reader #choso kamo #choso x reader #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader

293 notes · View notes

subskz · 1 year ago

Text

strawberry lemonade - l.mh

content: sub minho, dom reader, oral (m receiving), temperature play, foodplay (use of a popsicle), teasing, cum eating, reader calls minho kitty/kitten bc i am physically incapable of writing anything else, reader’s sex is unspecified, kinda unsanitary

word count: 5.3k

It was hot.

The air conditioner in your apartment, however determined it was, served no match for the unforgiving amounts of heat seeping in from outside, hanging heavy all around you and coating your skin with a thin layer of sweat. You’d tried cracking open your balcony door with the hopes of letting a refreshing breeze billow through, but all you were met with was more of the sticky, humid summer air instead.

In the end, you and Minho had taken refuge in the kitchen, where the effects of your barely-functioning AC were strongest. As a last resort to escape the sweltering temperatures, you decided to open up your freezer and dig out a popsicle, more relieved than you’d ever been in your life when you found that there was one more remaining. Even after you’d fished it out, you were reluctant to let go of the chilly waves rolling out from the freezer, basking in them for a few more precious moments before begrudgingly shutting the door.

The sound of crumpling plastic as you unwrapped your popsicle caught Minho’s attention, and he peered over at you curiously from where he was perched on the counter. He’d taken it upon himself to sit there in an attempt to cool himself off, a trusty wet napkin stuck to his forehead. His eyes gleamed when you approached him, zeroing in on the frozen treat in your hand with a catlike accuracy.

“This is the last one."

Minho frowned at that. Without missing a beat, he stuck his hand out to snatch it from your grasp. “Then gimme.”

“No way.” You barely veered out of reach in time. “This is a matter of life and death, Lee Minho.”

“You mean you wouldn’t die for me?” he clicked his tongue. “So cold.”

“It is cold,” you agreed, opening your mouth to rest the popsicle against your tongue. Strawberry flavored; his favorite. It was icy and refreshing and nothing short of heavenly in the way it chilled your mouth, tinged with a hint of lemonade to balance out the sweetness.

Minho sniffed irritably, resting his palms on the counter to lean back and spread his legs, like even his own body heat had become too disgusting for him to bear. “I might actually die, y’know.”

You didn’t bother to make your hum of sympathy sound convincing, closing your lips fully around the popsicle without a care in the world. If your roles had been reversed, you were certain you’d be met with the exact same smug indifference from him—topped off with plenty of teasing and laughing directly in your face for good measure. With the way he was eyeing you so keenly, a valuable opportunity to give him a taste of his own medicine presented itself. So, you sucked for a few moments longer before pulling it out of your mouth with a dramatic pop.

“Mmm,” you licked your lips. “I get why you like this flavor so much.”

He made a face, nose scrunching up. “Don’t do all that in front of me.”

“Jealous?”

“Listen closely and you'll hear it calling out my name,” he said it so seriously, you might’ve actually believed him if he were anyone else. "Begging me to save it."

“Uh-huh.” You dragged your tongue along the dessert from bottom to top, ending it with a playful flick to its tip. “I think the heat’s got you hallucinating.”

Minho huffed; sulky, lips downturned and eyes flickering between you and the popsicle. Its citrusy flavor flooded your tastebuds as you took it back into your mouth, letting out another satisfied noise that was even more exaggerated than before.

He went silent for a bit, long enough for you to figure that he’d lost interest in convincing you to hand it over. You continued licking contently away, growing less concerned with taunting him and more concerned with gathering up the juices that had begun to melt from the heat of your mouth. You dragged your lips down to the popsicle’s base, slurping at it loudly in a way that was, in your defense, unintentional that time.

“It’s dripping,” he commented.

It came casual, breezy as ever, but when you glanced up, you found his eyes locked on you, so intensely that it had you taken aback for a moment.

Then, you noticed it—a stray, red droplet splashing to the floor, with another traveling down your hand, preparing to do the same.

“Seriously,” he complained. “You’re not even appreciating it right! This hurts to watch.”

Without breaking eye contact, you brought your tongue to your wrist, swiping up the trail of juice before it could fall after the other.

“Better?”

To your surprise, Minho was the first to look away. He turned his head with another huff, seemingly annoyed, but a subtle shift in his expression piqued your curiosity beyond that. The corner of his lips twitched, trying to stifle an awkward puff of laughter, eyes blinking so profusely you’d think a drop of sweat might have trickled into them.

His legs weren’t spread anymore, you noticed. In fact, they were unnaturally close; thighs pressed firmly together despite the sticky discomfort he must have felt with his skin rubbing against itself.

It dawned on you, for the first time, that it may not have been you who Minho was jealous of.

Feigning obliviousness, you slipped into the barstool right across from where he was seated on the counter. He stiffened, turning his attention back to you just as you licked another long stripe up the popsicle.

“Don’t get so close,” his voice cracked. “I don't need your extra body heat right now.”

“Want some?” you asked innocently.

You tilted the popsicle towards him. Dripping, red, shining with an inviting glaze where you’d worked your mouth. A melted droplet accumulated at its tip, weighing itself down and splattering against his thigh.

He almost flinched, eyes darting down to the spot where it’d landed, then back up to your swelling lips. Even as he willed himself to ignore it, he was all too aware of the cool liquid spreading along his skin, quickening his heartbeat the further down it traveled.

“No,” he swallowed. “You already ruined it.”

“C’mon, let’s play that game you like so much. From your mouth to mine, right?”

Minho would always suggest it with the most self-satisfied look on his face, eyes twinkling with mischief and lips curving into an alluring smirk around whichever food he was trying to convince you to take from his mouth that day. Now, he didn’t look nearly as proud of himself. Squirming awkwardly under your stare, fingers fidgeting against the countertop, scrambling for something to bounce back with before he was completely cornered.

“That’s more of a favor, really,” he managed a trace of that crooked grin you knew. “So it’ll taste better for you.”

You rested your elbow on his thigh, pushing back a smile of your own when you felt his muscles tense up beneath you.

“Then make it taste better for me.”

You brought the popsicle up to nudge Minho’s lips. Slowly, deliberately, you dragged it along them, tracing their pouty shape and coating them red with its juices. Even with the mesmerizing sight demanding all of your attention, you still didn’t miss the way his breathing began to pick up, chest rising and falling a bit more rapidly under his loose-fitted shirt.

Then, he opened his mouth, just wide enough for you to push past his glistening lips and glide the frozen treat along his tongue. His stare realigned with yours, pupils blown wide; so dark that you could see yourself reflected in them. A glimpse into his own view, one that had his composure fizzling out alarmingly fast.

You inched forward bit by bit, taking your sweet time to admire how naturally his lips wrapped around it, how effortlessly he took it into his mouth, like he was meant to be filled. This time, Minho didn’t shy away, regardless of how your hungry eyes were pooling a heat in his stomach that was far different from the suffocating summer air. His eyelids drooped, thick lashes fanning over his gaze as it bore right back into yours. Defiant and desperate all at once—challenging you to take back the popsicle, pleading for you to take him with it.

A soft noise rose in his throat when you pushed as far down as you could go, so deep that your fingers brushed the entrance of his mouth. You stayed like that for just a moment longer, then pulled the popsicle out in one fell swoop, grazing it along his front teeth and leaving a cute pair of bite marks engraved in its side.

He had no chance to suck the melted coating off its surface before you popped it back into your mouth, still dripping with his saliva. You felt his thighs squeeze together under your arm, the red tint of his ears creeping up on his cheeks when you swallowed up the sweet blend without hesitation.

“You were right,” you murmured. “That’s much better.”

His lips were still parted, and you rubbed your thumb over the corner of his mouth to break the trail of drool that had dribbled out. Then, without warning, your hand fell from his face, brushing over the spot between his thighs that he’d been working so hard to distract you from.

“But I think I wanna taste something else, now.”

Minho’s stomach flipped, breath hitching so loud he was certain you could hear it. He shifted under your hand in a pointless attempt to conceal how hard he’d become, but all it did was press his bulge further against your palm. You leaned down to run your tongue along the dried patch of strawberry on his thigh, cooling the skin where his shorts had ridden up and making goosebumps rise to the surface.

“Poor baby.” You gave him a squeeze, watching in delight as his cheeks puffed out, flushing a shade deeper in an effort to hold in his gasp. “You’re really overheated, huh?”

“You…” he tried to get a handle on his voice, but much to his horror, it trembled anyway. “You did this on p-purpose.”

“Did not,” you pouted. “It’s not my fault you’re such a spoiled little kitten. Can’t even watch me eat a popsicle without wishing it was your dick instead.”

Any retort Minho had planned died in his throat when you slid the popsicle back into your mouth. Watching it push past your lips when you were hovering so close to his bulge was enough to make him throb in the confines of his shorts—a detail that, embarrassingly enough, he was certain you felt clear as day under your hand.

Holding the dessert steady between your teeth, you dipped your fingers below the waistband of his shorts, tugging at the elastic to pull them down along with his boxers. It was almost cute; how he deliberately slowed his movements to avoid coming off as too eager. How he was still trying to convince you he was unaffected, even when your fingers had just been wrapped around the proof of how aroused he’d become without a single touch from you. Still, you let him have his way. Like watching a cat struggle to unhook its claws from a piece of fabric, you waited patiently as he unstuck his thighs from the counter little by little, hoisting himself up so you could slip the garments off at last.

His length sprang up against his stomach, drops of precum seeping into his white shirt to form a small, translucent stain. It made your adrenaline spike—imagining what must’ve been going through Minho’s head for him to get so worked up purely off his own thoughts.

You dragged your lips up the popsicle as you pulled it out of your mouth again, agonizingly slow, savoring every bit of flavor just to make his patience slip a bit more.

“Is this what you meant when you said it was dripping?”

If the question itself hadn’t been enough to fluster him, what came next surely was. You nudged the popsicle playfully against his dick, flicking its leaking head with just enough force to make him jolt. He bit back his cry through gritted teeth, mustering up all his self-control to ignore the sharp chill that rocked his body so he could string together a response.

“If I say y-yes,” he breathed. “Will you lick it, too?”

He cursed himself for barely being able to get the words out properly. His eyes squeezed shut to form an adorable grimace, refusing to meet the smirk that he knew was spreading across your face.

“Every last drop.”

You gave him no time to brace himself before you pressed the popsicle to his inner thigh and dragged it inwards all at once. Minho reacted instantly; muscles going taut, legs threatening to close in on each other, hips shrinking away from the ice cold stimulation. A thin, pink layer of juice was left behind everywhere you roamed, complimenting the fading marks you’d left on his skin days ago.

The sensation was cool and glossy and deliciously unfamiliar against his flesh, parts of his body that were rarely touched by anything but you. It made him more sensitive than ever to the sloppy drag of your tongue that followed. He couldn’t even think to suppress his hiccup as you licked up the entire trail of sweet liquid, mixed with the salty tinge of his sweat.

“Is that better, baby?” you sucked up the leftover juice with an open-mouthed kiss, dangerously close to the base of his length. “Cooling you off?”

He could only form a soft grunt, not trusting himself to speak steadily when the popsicle suddenly found his other thigh, sending a visible shiver all throughout his body.

“Needy little kitten. All the attention just has to be on you, hm?” You twirled your wrist, drawing careful circles into his skin with the popsicle’s tip. “Is this how hard you get for me every time I’ve got something else in my mouth?”

The gentle rhythm of your movements almost lulled Minho into a trance, easing the uncomfortable heat that had been consuming his senses and replacing it with a pleasurable ache that made it difficult for him to focus on anything else.

“Y-you’re mean,” he stuttered out. “It's ‘cause you were teasing me.”

“Anything looks like teasing when you think with your dick, baby.”

You slid the popsicle further up his thigh, listening closely to the sound of his quickening breath as you approached the spot that was doing all the begging his mouth couldn’t verbalize just yet, twitching and leaking more uncontrollably by the second. A shaky sigh escaped him, dragging out into a moan when you flattened your tongue against his skin and followed the messy trail of juice, countering its cool sensation with the warmth of your mouth.

The feeling of his flesh—soft and pulsing and completely vulnerable under your teeth—was too tempting to resist biting down on. It sent his hips snapping forward with embarrassing speed, only making you sink your teeth deeper into his thigh. A low, frustrated whine met your ears, rife with desire for the wet heat that was taunting him just inches away from his cock, chipping away at his already minimal patience.

“Hah, more,” he demanded weakly. “Gimme more.”

“Still hot?” You nibbled until you were certain a brand new patch of red would be left behind on his plush skin, relishing in the remaining traces of strawberry as you gave it a final, languid lick. “I got you baby.”

In all its haziness, Minho’s mind processed your intentions a split second too late. His eyes fluttered open in alarm just in time to catch the mischievous glint that crossed yours. A fresh surge of frost rippled through his senses as you slid the popsicle along the underside of his cock, pressing its full length against him all at once.

Even as his hand flew up to clamp over his mouth, a broken cry rang out through the kitchen regardless, so loud that it sent a jolt of electricity straight to your core. The satisfaction it brought you was only amplified as he immediately began writhing under your hand, hips twisting and muscles clenching, like he himself didn’t know whether he wanted to escape the numbing cold, or lean into it—to let the strange thrill it created in his stomach take over in full.

“A-ah! Wait, wait, wait,” his honey voice spiked into something sharper; an uncharacteristically raspy squeak. “Too much, ‘s too much!”

“Too much?” you echoed. “It’s for your own good, kitty. You wanted more, right?”

You glanced up to find his hand now curled into a fist, bunny teeth sinking into it to restrain another pathetic sound. He met your eyes with a scowl that might’ve been intimidating if he didn’t look completely and utterly helpless.

“That’s n-not what I meant,” he mumbled miserably through his fingers. “You know it’s not.”

You tilted your head, determined to keep your hand firmly in place, even with all his wriggling around. “Then what did you mean?”

The popsicle was melting faster now thanks to all the contact with his burning skin, staining red all over your fingers and dripping torturously down his length. You rolled the treat lower to emphasize your question, wedging it against his balls and making his cock spasm wildly, as if crying out the answer for you.

“I thought kitties were supposed to be smart,” you frowned. “But this is all it takes for your head to go blank, huh?”

Another whine spilled out of him, too incoherent for you to make out what he was saying. But the way he blinked down at you, pupils blown out and putting his desperation on full display, told you all that you needed to know. He was clinging to the last few shreds of his pride, not quite ready to beg for you yet. Even so, you decided to indulge him—there would be plenty of opportunities for you to drag out the pleas you knew he was capable of later on. That, and, maybe the look that he was giving you, even more irresistible than any words might sound coming from his mouth, affected you more than you’d like to admit.

“Guess I should stop playing with my food,” your breath fanned over his skin in a murmur, like a gentle breeze quelling the throb in his body that had become near unbearable.

Minho searched aimlessly for something clever to say, something to pretend like his brain wasn’t about to fizzle out watching you draw closer and closer, but any quip was cut short by his sharp inhale when you leaned in and wrapped your lips around the head of his cock in one, fluid motion. He doubled over the moment you did, hands falling to grip the edge of the counter like he might fully collapse if he didn’t. Relieved by the warmth of your mouth finding him at last, overwhelmed by how it contrasted the popsicle’s relentless chill. The combination of temperatures was nearly enough to bring the tension building in his abdomen to a tipping point, right then and there.

You began sucking at his tip without giving him any chance to adjust, squeezing your mouth rhythmically around him to add addictive bursts of pleasure that made him pulse under your lips. He hissed softly as your tongue pressed against his head, teasing under its groove and tracing its shape. His taste mixed with the lingering flavor of the popsicle, earning a satisfied hum from you that vibrated around him and sent a jolt of arousal through his veins.

“Feels good,” he mewled. “More, more, more.”

Hollowing your cheeks, you took his cock deeper into your mouth, engulfing as much of him with the velvety warmth as you could. His whimper turned up in pitch when you slid the half-melted popsicle along the part of his length your lips didn’t cover, back arching and hips bucking forward before he could even think to stop himself.

Your eyes darted up in a warning, stern gaze meeting his half-lidded one and making his heart leap in his chest. Solely from the way he stiffened, you could tell he’d immediately realized his mistake, but he pushed back his apology, pouting down at you instead.

It was an expression you understood all too well—communicating the need for you to control him when he couldn’t control himself. You brought your free hand to his stomach, flattening your palm against it to push him back against the countertop. The added pressure to his abdomen made Minho’s cock jerk on your tongue; so, deviously, you dug your fingers into his shirt, squeezing the soft flesh of his tummy and holding him firmly in place as you began to bob your head once more.

Every wet slide of your lips was followed with a drag of the popsicle along his length, creating a fresh layer of juice where you’d been sucking just moments before. The groan he managed to stifle was quickly followed by another, more shameless one as you repeated the motion, sinking down to swallow up the strawberry coating, then pulling back so that just his tip was left throbbing in your mouth.

Gradually, you built up a steady pace, timing the strokes of the popsicle with your mouth so that every inch of his dick was being stimulated at once. Hot and frigid, sloppy and smooth, like you were freezing his body over and setting it back on fire. It wasn’t long before the dizzying blend of sensations became too much for him to handle. You could feel his stomach expanding faster against your palm, could hear his cute grunts grow less and less restrained with each glide of your tongue. Minho’s hips surged forward in another reflex when you paused your bobbing to tease his slit, leaving him longing to be swallowed whole by you once more. A broken moan of frustration escaped him as you pushed down on his stomach to force him back, harder this time.

You pulled off of his cock completely, grazing your front teeth along it as you did and making him shudder under your hands.

“Quit squirming, kitten,” you scolded. “You’re making a mess.”

You swiped your tongue over your lips to lick off the strawberry sheen, well aware of his glossy eyes piercing holes into you as you gathered up the drops of saliva and slush. He moved around indignantly in his spot, a low, restless protest rumbling in his throat. But even he knew better than to test his luck by jerking his hips forward a third time, regardless of how he was already aching to feel your mouth wrapped around him again. Your gentle tone was deceptive, a fact made clear in the way you started working the popsicle against his dick again, like an unspoken threat. There wasn’t much left of it, anymore—less than half, with the last chunk rapidly melting away around the wooden stick. He had trouble deciding whether the friction it created was intoxicating, or utterly excruciating.

Minho’s entire face was flushed, now—red with lust, embarrassment, and the strain of trying to mask his reactions to all the different ways you were toying with him. The napkin on his forehead had become thoroughly soaked, lopsided and slipping from its place. Sweat dripped from his bangs, trickling down his face and neck, glazing his skin to create a positively sinful sight.

“Looks like you’re only getting hotter, baby,” you mused, tapping the wooden stick against his length in mock contemplation. “Maybe I should just stop?”

“No, no, no,” he didn’t bother to hide the panic in his voice. “N-not enough. Gimme more, I want more.”

He held his breath when you opened your mouth and leaned in again, only to give the popsicle a lazy, taunting lick.

“More of what? This?” You took a small bite, savoring it with all the careful attention you’d been giving his cock mere moments ago. The thought alone was enough to make Minho’s head spin with want, with a need for you to put your focus back on him. To work his body in ways no one else could, make him feel things no one else could—not even himself.

“There’s not much left, kitty. Hurry up and tell me what you need so bad, or I won’t be able to cool you off anymore.”

He whimpered pitifully, delaying the inevitable. “M-mean. So mean.”

“So mean,” you hummed. “You love running your pretty little mouth, right? Just use it to say please, and you’ll get your treat.”

Minho was quiet for a moment, thighs rubbing helplessly together as he weighed the options in his foggy mind. With the way your smile grew watching him fidget, he was almost convinced you could hear his racing thoughts and pounding heartbeat. You took the popsicle between your lips, pulling the last bit carefully up the stick, ready to swallow it down.

“Please,” he whispered.

It was lilted and sweet, infinitely more delicious than any of the flavors that had been flooding your tongue. He probably knew exactly what he was doing—looking you straight in the eye as he said it, making absolutely sure it took full effect. But even as the feather-light word graced your ears and put an undeniable flutter in your chest, you weren’t ready to let him off that easily.

“Please, what?” You inched closer, enough for him to feel the warmth radiating from your lips.

His adam’s apple bobbed, eyes squeezing shut. “Please…your m-mouth,” he tried again. “Don’t make me beg for it.”

“But you sound so cute when you do.” You brushed your lips over the head of his length, earning a sharp hiss from him as you smeared around the fresh drops of precum that had dribbled out. “You could get anything you wanted with a voice like that. Since when are you this shy, baby?”

“Please,” he repeated. His eyebrows furrowed together in pure desperation, and combined with the view of his eyelashes resting delicately on his cheeks, you could’ve caved in a heartbeat. “Please, I need it. Can’t wait anymore. Don’t wanna wait anymore. Please, please, please.”

He was borderline babbling now, each word growing more and more frantic and sending another ripple down your spine.

“There we go. See how pretty you make it sound?” you cooed. “Let me show you how nice I am to good boys.”

You scooped up the final piece of the popsicle before it could melt completely, tossing its stick on the counter and curling your fingers around Minho’s dripping cock. His thighs shot up as you took him back into your mouth all in one go, sinking down as far as you could take him. The strawberry slush dissolved against your tongue, cooling the inside of your mouth to create an icy blend of saliva that was far too much for his hypersensitive body to handle.

Instantly, his voice rang out through the kitchen without an ounce of restraint. Your lips curved into a smile, swallowing around his length and making his head loll to the side in a fit of pleasure. His jaw went slack, spilling out a string of moans that were nothing short of angelic, a perfect contrast to just how filthy he’d become for you. Sticky with sweat, juice, and drool.

You slid up and down his cock with swollen lips, building up a merciless pace and creating sounds that made Minho’s brain go haywire. His fingers clawed helplessly at the smooth surface of the countertop, so frantic to find something to hold onto that the prominent veins in his forearms began to bulge out. As much as it gave you a power rush to have him so fragile on your tongue, your protective instincts kicked in.

You’d barely even pulled off of his length for a second before he was whining in protest, disoriented eyes fluttering open, hips stuttering in search of your mouth again.

“Don’t hurt yourself, kitty,” you murmured.

Delicately, you brought your hands to his thrashing ones, soothing their erratic movements and guiding them to rest on your head.

All it took was you licking a long stripe up his cock for him to immediately latch onto you. With a grateful whimper, he tangled his fingers in your hair, small palms pawing rhythmically and blunt nails digging into your scalp as you began working your mouth again. The slickness that coated his length with every bob of your head pushed him to the edge alarmingly fast, you could tell by the way he began squirming again. You slid your hands under his shirt to grab hold of his hips, pinning them down against the countertop to keep him steady as you drew out his climax.

“More, c-close, ‘most there,” he slurred. “Ah, ah, ah!”

“Is it really that good, baby?” you swirled your tongue around his tip, sinking your fingers deeper into his flesh to stop him from bucking. “Even the popsicle lasted longer than you.”

Minho couldn’t find it in him to bite back, not when you followed up your taunt by closing your lips fully around him and sucking at the head of his cock. He bent forward with a hiccup, leaning so far down that you could feel droplets of his sweat splatter onto your skin.

“Please,” he gasped without any hesitation left. “Going crazy, a-ah!”

Instead of outright granting him permission, you tongued at his slit, encouraging him to let go. It sent a jolt of electricity straight to his core, serving as the final catalyst to release the pressure that had been piling up in his stomach. Despite how sharp his cry was, tinged with a cute rasp from how much he’d exerted his voice, he came gently on your tongue. Soft and delicate, just like him. You continued sucking intently at his tip as his high washed over him, feeling every tremor of bliss pass through his thighs trembling around your head and his hands gripping your hair like his life depended on it.

His airy moans faded into weak little mewls with each soothing circle your thumbs drew into his hipbones. When the final spurt of his cum had spilled onto your tongue, you let his twitching cock fall from your mouth, leaving him dazed and panting on the countertop.

You were careful not to lose a single drop of his seed resting heavy on your tongue as you rose from the barstool to full standing, coming face to face with Minho. He looked utterly spent—eyes half-lidded, face flushed and glistening with sweat, puffed lips still parted with every pant that slipped past them. He blinked slowly back at you as your hand gripped his jaw, squeezing at his cheeks to urge his mouth further open.

A soft vocalization built in his throat, quickly muffled as you locked his lips with your own, spilling his own release into his mouth. Your tongue slid against his, catching the bittersweet taste of his cum combined with the popsicle’s residual flavor. You savored the kiss for a moment longer before pulling away, watching his throat bob as he drank down the mess of fluids. All his attempts from before to appear uninterested seemed so laughable now, with how eagerly he took it all. For good measure, he stuck his tongue out lazily once he finished, showing you that he hadn’t let any of it go to waste.

You gave his cheek an approving pat.

“You like the taste of your milk, kitty?”

Minho sputtered, ears burning an even deeper red than when you'd had him in your mouth. You swiped your thumb gently over the corner of his lips, pushing a stray drop of his seed back into his mouth. Despite the embarrassment setting his skin on fire, his tongue still flickered over the pad over your finger in a kittenish lick, swallowing it hungrily down with the rest.

“You’re insane,” he finally mumbled.

“Yeah?” You leaned in again to brush your lips playfully over his, allowing the traces of strawberry lemonade to waft over his senses. “Guess you've rubbed off on me.”

#skz smut #sub!skz #dom!reader #sub!minho #sub!lee know #lee know smut #lee know x reader #minho smut

1K notes · View notes

kikyoupdates · 3 months ago

Text

Love Bite ⭑˚🩸⭑ 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑠𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑡

yandere!vampires x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, original characters, vampire!ocs x fem!reader

Desperate for money to pay off your debts, you sign up for a program that allows you to sell your blood to vampires. At first, everything is fine, and you’re finally able to make ends meet. But they soon begin craving more than just your blood.

previous | story masterlist | next

The moment Xavier’s fangs pierce your skin, all you can think is that it fucking hurts.

Honestly, the sensation can’t even be fully described in words. It’s sharp, and it stings, and even once you get past the initial pain of his fangs sinking into your flesh, they stay there, buried under the surface, making your neck throb and ache like never before.

Your eyes are shut. You don’t dare to open them and catch a glimpse of what’s happening. The pain is already more than enough

Still, you don’t even think of pulling away. You chose this, and you need this. God, you need the money so fucking bad.

Xavier holds you close, and you can’t help the whimper you let out as you hear him swallowing mouthfuls of your blood. It’s not just the pain that’s hard to stomach, but the sensation of being slowly drained of the precious liquid that’s meant to be keeping you alive.

This is unnatural. Under ordinary circumstances, this would never be happening.

Then again, nothing about your life has ever been ordinary.

You can feel your body swaying a bit, and you’re thankful that Xavier is holding onto you so tightly, otherwise you might have already collapsed from light-headedness. Come to think of it, you didn’t even ask how much blood you’re expected to give. Surely, he’ll stop eventually, right? Otherwise...

Otherwise, you might actually die.

Mercifully, Xavier pulls away just as that harrowing thought fills your mind, and you are immediately flooded with relief.

At least, until you take a good look at his face.

There’s blood all over his lips. Your blood. It’s a deep shade of crimson, and you realize, with a gulp, that you’ve never actually lost this much blood before, yet now, it’s staining the better portion of a stranger’s face.

Xavier must have picked up on your frightened expression, because he quickly digs into his pocket and pulls out a napkin, then uses it to wipe his mouth.

“There,” he says. “Is that better?”

You nod hastily. You really don’t mean to offend him, but seeing something like that for the first time... it’s a bit difficult to brush aside.

Xavier stares at you for a few moments. You wonder if he still hasn’t had his fill yet, if he wants to go back in for more. The tender spot on your neck throbs painfully at the thought.

But instead, he stands up, adjusts his tie, and nods.

“That’ll be all,” he says. “Thank you for your cooperation. Please speak to the doctor if you happen to be feeling unwell.”

He walks out without another word, and it kind of feels like a slap to the face. What you just did together can’t exactly be considered intimate, you suppose, but he still drank your goddamn blood, which as far as you're concerned, is a pretty big deal. To watch him carry on with such nonchalance is a harsh reminder that the two of you are completely different.

Anyways, it’s finally over. You actually pulled it off, and even though it hurt like a bitch, you have every intention of doing it again.

So long as you’re getting paid, of course.

“How are you feeling?” the doctor asks. He steps in the room shortly after Xavier leaves, then walks over to you and examines the bite mark on your neck. “Just wait a moment. I’ll disinfect the area and give you a bandage.”

He wipes your neck down, making sure to be as gentle as possible, applies a thin layer of some kind of ointment, then sticks on a cute little flower-shaped bandage.

Once he’s done, there’s virtually no sign that a vampire was drinking your blood just a few minutes ago.

“Blood pressure seems fine,” he remarks, removing the cuff from your arm. “Unless you’re concerned about something, I’d say you’re good to go.”

Besides the dull pain coming from your neck every so often, and the fact that you’re perhaps a bit dizzy, you think you’ll be okay.

“I’m good,” you nod. “It wasn’t so bad.”

That part is a bit of a lie. It did hurt, after all. But you’re used to dealing with hardship, and if there’s anything your shitty life has taught you, it’s how to suck it up and endure.

The doctor nods, then pulls out an envelope from the inner pocket of his coat. “Here. Your payment for today. As we explained in the contract, all payments will be delivered on-site, immediately after you’ve met with a client. However, it’s up to the client if they wish to see you again, which is why there is no fixed schedule for these appointments.”

“There’s a chance he might not want to see me again?” you frown, taking the envelope into your hands.

“It’s a possibility. All vampires have their own preferences, just like how humans prefer different kinds of food. But even if this particular client chooses not to proceed with your meetings, we can try to match you with a different client. Make sure to check your phone regularly so that we can update you on the situation.”

Right. That makes sense. If the client isn’t satisfied with the quality of their blood, it goes without saying that they wouldn’t want to keep paying for it. It’s kind of like going to a restaurant and ending up with a gross, undercooked meal. Although the analogy is perhaps a bit crude.

“Take it easy for the next little while,” the doctor suggests. “You seem perfectly fine, but you’ve still lost quite a bit of blood, so make sure to put your health first.”

How cute. If only you had the luxury of doing that.

Unfortunately, it’s time to go to work.

You did it. Against all odds, you actually pulled it off.

A few days have passed, and thanks to the payment from selling your blood, a few extra shifts you picked up, and cutting back on meals so that you wouldn’t have to buy groceries again, somehow, you managed to scrounge up all the money Johnny asked for.

You watch, nervously, as he counts the cash you handed him, making sure to be as thorough as possible. It looks like he’s wary of counterfeit bills, or perhaps he just can’t believe that you actually found a way to pay him back.��

Whatever the case, this time, you’ve been spared.

“Alright,” he says. “It’s all here. See? I knew you could do it. From now on, I expect this same amount every two weeks, like we agreed on.”

He flashes you a shit-eating grin, then breezes past you, making sure to slap your ass right as he leaves.

You grit your teeth, mortified. Of course, you don’t dare oppose him. You know all too well how things will end if you do.

At least it worked. But meeting his demands every two weeks is going to be ridiculously difficult, and the only way you’ll pull it off is if Xavier calls on you again, or at the very least, another vampire decides to solicit your services.

I never thought it would come to this. To think that I’m actually hoping someone will drink my blood. Life really is a constant fucking struggle.

Nothing’s ever been easy for you. But perhaps things are finally about to change for the better.

The screen of your phone lights up, and as you read the message that just appeared, your eyes widen.

Xavier wants to meet with you again.

“...disgusting,” Felix shudders. He shoves the other person away, much to their bewilderment. “You’re no good. I’ve tried so many of the humans that have signed up for this program, but all of them taste fucking nasty. This is a waste of my time. And don’t expect to be paid.”

He sighs and leaves the room before the foul-tasting human can even protest. Yet another disappointment. To think that he was so excited to move to the big city and see what it had to offer, only to be let down like this.

If this is how things are going to be, then he’s probably better off just obtaining blood pack rations directly from the government. They’re stale and disgusting, but clearly flesh blood is no different here, and he’ll save a lot of money.

Right. That’s what he’ll do. As much as all vampires crave drinking blood directly from the source, what choice does he have, when everyone tastes like absolute shit?

He’s just about to speak to one of the staff and let them know he’s done paying for this program, when suddenly, a sweet scent wafts by him.

Felix immediately knows it’s you. Even for a vampire, his senses have always been unnaturally sharp. Perhaps that’s why he’s so picky when it comes to drinking blood. His taste buds are more sophisticated, more developed, so when something isn’t quite right, he can tell right away.

The same is true for his sense of smell, although it’s rare for a human to smell so appealing, especially since you’re rather far away.

In fact, it might be the very first time anyone has ever smelled this good to him.

Felix watches you walk down the hall, escorted by one of the doctors. You must be here to sell your blood, and the longer he stares at you, the more he finds himself rethinking his earlier decision.

A smile creeps onto his lips.

“Well,” he chuckles softly, “maybe I should give it one last chance.”

previous | story masterlist | next

More chapters are available on Quotev and Wattpad!

⊱.⋅follow + post notifications on for story update announcements or join the author's discord!⋅.⊰

🩸 main masterlist! ♡ character appearances

236 notes · View notes

mcflymemes · 2 years ago

Text

PROMPTS FOR THE ROMANCE OF HANDS & TOUCH * include 'reverse' for the reversal of the prompt

[ table ] sender reaches for receiver's hand under the table

[ knowing ] sender has been holding receiver's hand all this time without realizing it and hurries to let go

[ cling ] sender scrambles to grab receiver's hand in a hasty situation

[ tangle ] sender carefully knots their fingers with receiver's

[ thumb ] sender starts gently caressing receiver's knuckles with their thumb

[ squeeze ] sender reassures receiver with a squeeze of their hand

[ aligned ] sender lays their hand flat against receivers, lining up every digit to compare sizes

[ pinky ] sender hooks their pinky finger with receiver's

[ ring ] sender admires a ring on receiver's hand

[ desperate ] sender is in pain and squeezes tightly to receiver's hand to channel the agony elsewhere

[ let go ] after holding onto receiver's hand for a while, sender finally, reluctantly releases their grip

[ swing ] sender holds receiver's hand and starts swinging their hands back and forth in a playful way

[ promise ] sender performs a pinky promise with receiver

[ piano ] sender begins tapping their fingers along receiver's back like they're playing a piano

[ shoulder ] sender sets a hand on receiver's shoulder and leaves it there

[ strand ] sender reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind receiver's ear

[ fix ] sender gently fixes receiver's hair

[ boop ] sender lightly taps the tip of receiver's nose

[ clean ] after eating, sender reaches up to clean something off receiver's face

[ napkin ] sender uses a napkin to tidy receiver's face

[ chin ] sender takes receiver's chin between their fingers and holds it

[ lips ] in the midst of an intimate exchange, sender smooths their thumb back and forth over receiver's lips

[ play ] sender plays with receiver's hair

[ knead ] sender gives receiver a much needed shoulder massage

[ accidental ] sender and receiver reach for the same thing and their fingers brush unintentionally

[ pat ] sender pats the top of receiver's head

[ thigh ] sender begins caressing along the receiver's thigh

[ smooth ] sender strokes up and down across the receiver's arm

[ comfortable ] sender picks the receiver's legs up and drapes them over their lap

[ straddle ] sender guides the receiver over and coaxes them fully onto their lap

[ shirt ] sender slips a hand up the receiver's shirt

[ hem ] sender plays with the hem of receiver's shirt

[ loop ] while standing behind the receiver, the sender hooks a finger in the belt loop of their trousers

[ pocket ] sender slides a hand into receiver's back pocket

[ guide ] sender uses both of their hands to guide the receiver into a kiss

[ push ] in the midst of a dangerous situation, the sender pushes the receiver out of harm's way

[ shield ] the sender drags receiver behind them to keep them safe

[ remind ] sender sets their hands on both sides of receiver's face and tries to get them to look at them directly

[ pressure ] sender sets a hand on the small of receiver's back

[ neck ] sender sets a hand around the base of receiver's neck and gingerly kneads the muscles there

[ braid ] standing behind the receiver, sender starts braiding their hair

[ undo ] sender takes receiver's hair out of their updo/ponytail

[ clasp ] sender helps receiver put on a necklace

[ zip ] sender assists receiver in zipping up or taking off a difficult piece of clothing

[ wave ] sender waves goodbye to receiver for the very last time

[ both ] sender takes both of receiver's hands in their own and guides them close to one another

[ hug ] sender slides both arms around receiver and clings to them

[ handshake ] sender and receiver shake hands and hold on to each other a little longer than intended

[ behind ] sender hugs receiver from behind and tucks against their body

[ sleep ] sender is asleep and reaches for receiver in the middle of the night

[ spoon ] while spooning, sender tangles their hands with receiver

[ tap ] sender appears behind receiver and taps their shoulder to let them know they're standing there

[ patch ] sender patches up a wound on receiver's body

[ propose ] after a successful proposal, sender slides the engagement ring onto receiver's finger

[ paint ] sender applies body paint to receiver's nude form

[ undress ] sender takes their time removing receiver's clothes piece by piece

[ cover ] sender shoves a hand over receiver's eyes, preventing them from witnessing a terrible sight

[ pillow ] sender pats the pillow next to them, encouraging receiver to climb in bed beside them

[ gift ] sender offers a wrapped present out to the receiver

2K notes · View notes

princessbrunette · 11 months ago

Note

reader upset bc things just aren’t going her way today, she woke up on the wrong side of the bed after not getting much sleep, and her hair didn’t turn out the way she wanted it too, she couldn’t find her favorite skirt and she broke her nail. rafe takes her with him to run errands and handle business, and she’s quiet and upset the whole time and she just needs her rafe but he’s so busy right now. eventually something small happens like she trips over her feet or spills something over herself and had a meltdown, bc we all get overstimulated and have meltdowns sometimes :/

i can’t explain to you how much i relate to this :(( have too many days like this one !!

you’d be quiet for the most part, more quiet than usual but rafe isnt gonna necessarily question it, just chalking it up to being in a bad mood. by the time you’ve made it to the car, everything’s overstimulating you. you don’t like the songs that keep coming on the aux, the car is rumbling too loud, rafes being quiet too so it’s just setting you on edge thinking somethings up, it’s just too much. but worst of all, you were hungry.

rafe had some errands to run, but he’d promised you fries, mentioned casually earlier which he’d probably forgotten about. you were holding onto that fact, knowing being fed would greatly cure a large part of your foul mood.

you’d passed the midway point, rafe completing another task on behalf of his father before you finally speak up— voice croaky from lack of sleep and lack of use. “can we get food now?”

he glances at you, reversing out of his spot, looking over his shoulder with his mouth parted in concentration. “huh? oh — uh, yeah, yeah soon. i left somethin’ in the boat so i gotta go pick it up.” he speaks casually.

for some reason, it’s your tipping point.

“no… you said we’d—” you’d go to argue, but suddenly burst into tears, crying into your hands. once you start, you quickly realise you can’t stop, the overstimulation and every issue you’d faced that day catching up with you. rafe frowns in confusion at you, eyes darting between the road and your hunched over form.

“hey, what are you — why are you crying?” he asks, and you can’t answer— far too upset. he sighs, thinking for a moment you’re being a tad dramatic, so used to being spoiled by him that you’re crying over something so minor. he doesn’t like seeing you so upset though, so he sighs and starts to turn his wheel, the car hitting a U-turn. “alright, hey, alright. i’ll get your damn fries. shit.”

it’s only when you don’t calm down he actually starts to get a little concerned. you cry the entire journey, not lifting your head from your hands— and all he can do is spare you worried glances before ordering your food. he parks in the lot, a wad of napkins from the food bag in his clutch and turns to you.

“look at me, kid. please?” he instructs, and you reluctantly do. blinking through gloopy mascara and sniffling your snotty nose shamefully. he dabs at your face, holding the napkin to your nose and quietly telling you to blow. he then sets it aside, and places the fries in your lap, running his hand over his chin and jaw thoughtfully for a moment.

“m’sorry.” you break the silence, staring down at your fries. he sighs, shaking his head.

“what happened, hm? was it me? did i fuck up?”

“no rafe, just got overwhelmed. im having a bad day.”

he stares at you for a moment, turning his body to face you more. “what do you… what do you want me to do?” he asks, his own finger gently prodding at his chest. he was trying to understand you, trying to be a good boyfriend. you think for a moment, glumly staring at your hands.

“i wanna go home and just be with you.” you sulk. he nods slowly, staring off out the window.

“y’know i got shit to do though, baby. can’t just… drop everything, you know? got people countin’ on me. m’handling shit today. ” he squints, hating that he has to be tough— but makes his voice gentle enough to soften the blow.

“i know.” it comes out as a broken whisper, and he can tell you didn’t like his answer. he stares at you, helpless, before speaking once more.

“eat your fries, and then you’re gonna go lay down in the back and have a nap, okay? think you need one. we’ll figure it out from there, a’ight?” he places a hand on your shoulder, tilting his head down and staring into your eyes, hoping what he’s saying is good enough. you think for a moment before nodding and he smiles, patting your cheek.

“alright, that’s my girl. proud of you, okay baby?”

#anon #rafe cameron prompt

462 notes · View notes

alfy196 · 3 days ago

Text

Unfold elegance with chisel napkins for any occasion!

The chizel napkin is in the size of 22”x22” and adds elegance to any table setting. The napkin features a sleek and textured finish, adding a refined look. It is ideal for casual and formal occasions and is designed to enhance the ambiance of any occasion. The generous size provides excellent coverage and versatility, making creative folding or elegant draping. The fabric is durable and withstands frequent use, retaining its luxurious appearance. The modern table napkins are easy to care for, machine washable, and stain-resistant, making it comfortable to use. The eco-friendly feature of the napkin is a good alternative to disposable options. These napkins offer unparalleled style and practicality for organizing a business luncheon, wedding, or dinner party. The table napkins’ classic style will enhance your dining experience.

#reversible napkins #tone-on-tone napkins #wedding napkins

0 notes

thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 2 years ago

Text

Errors, “Errors,” and Sci Fi

@strawberry-crocodile

tvtropes calls stuff like the wolf example "science matches on" which I think is a pretty fair shake

This. This is what’s got me thinking so much about errors. There’s a certain danger, here. A certain way that this particular effect — delicious dramatic irony — tempts the mind when reading old stories, even true ones.

What do you know about R.M.S. Titanic? I ask my class every year, and the first hand rises. “It was unsinkable,” the student inevitably says, and everyone is nodding, “or so they thought.” I write the word UNSINKABLE on the board, underneath my crude drawing of a ship with four smokestacks. It will be crossed out before the end of the hour, but not for the reason they expect.

“I find no evidence,” Walter Lord, preeminent biographer of the ship’s survivors, wrote, “that Titanic was ever advertised as unsinkable. This detail seems to have entered the collective mind so as to create a more perfect irony.” Indeed, historians’ examinations of White Star Line documents show the shipbuilders themselves worried it would be so large as to risk collision; they stocked several more lifeboats than 1910s regulations required.

The War to End All Wars (deep breath, satisfied exhale), also known as World War ONE. Chuckle. Shake of the head. What if I told you that this phrase, used primarily in American newspapers after the fact, wasn’t meant to be literal? Nowadays we’d say The Mother of All Wars, or One Hell of a Fucking War, but we wouldn’t mean literal motherhood, literal intercourse. What if I said the armistice and the Lost Generation and the Roaring 20s were all braced for another outbreak of European conflict, and yet we still failed to prevent it?

Did you know they were so confident in the safety of the S.S. Challenger that they put a civilian schoolteacher onboard? I do, because I’ve heard that one repeated many times. Only, see, it’s got the cause and effect reversed. Challenger launched on a day the shuttle’s engineers knew to be dangerously cold, because the first civilian in space was on board. And NASA knew its shuttle project would be cancelled entirely, if they couldn’t get that civilian’s much-delayed entry into space in the next two weeks. So they launched on a cold day, and killed her instead.

These are all what cognitive science calls Hindsight Bias on the personal level, what sociology calls Presentism on the cultural level. Social psychology’s a little of both, is primarily interested in why you’re sitting on your couch in a Colonize Mars shirt watching PBS and chuckling at the fools who believed in El Dorado. It wants to know why the mind flees straight from “marijuana will kill you” to “marijuana will cure cancer” without so much as a pause on the middle ground of its real benefits and drawbacks, its real (mild) risks and rewards.

And they can paralyze the sci-fi writer, if you think too much about them. Jetsons is futurist one decade, retro the next. “There are no bathrooms on the Enterprise,” the creators of Serenity say smugly, as if Gene Roddenberry should’ve simply known that decades later it’d be acceptable to show a man peeing in full view of the camera, nothing but the curve of the actor’s hand to protect his modesty. “No sound in space,” the Fandom Menace says, “No explosions in space,” and “A space station can’t collapse in zero-G.” Only then NASA burns a paper napkin outside of atmosphere, transmits music using only the ghost of nearby planets’ gravities, and logs onto Reddit long enough to point out the Death Star would implode in its own gravity field. And now we’re the ones pointing, the ones laughing, at those earlier point-and-laughers. Self-satisfied, smug in superiority. As if we did the work to find out ourselves, instead of just happening to be born a little later than George Lucas.

#errors #continuity #sci fi #presentism #star wars #titanic #world war i #science marches on #history #started a new post because i got waaaaaay off topic here #if you think the dinosaurs in Jurassic Park (1993) should've had feathers #you're a lot more ignorant about paleontology than the people you're trying to criticize #science was not handed down to us in its perfect complete form circa 1943 #stop for a second before you call out someone else's reptilian denonychus #someone else's oxygenated moon #and ask: am i better read #or am i just more recently born?

2K notes · View notes

azrielwingspan · 5 months ago

Text

RED SERPENT (Mob!Bucky x f!reader)

Chapter 2- Bastards and Pawns

Chapter 1

Summary: King and Queen of New York. The one who knows how to play the game, survives.

Warnings: Violence, mature content, sexual themes, foul language.

Disclaimer: I do not condone any of the actions written in this story.

"Came back at 3am and went to his office." the maid whispered as you cut into your omelette with a silver knife.

"Hmm....pour me a glass of orange juice, will you Betty?"

"Yes, Mrs. Barnes." Your thoughts rang through the silence as you chewed on your omelette, your hunger long gone.

"Oh...and Mr.Barnes hasn't had his breakfast yet." Betty whispered again, her urge to please beyond satisfaction.

Nodding in understanding, you quickly wiped your mouth with a napkin and stood up.

"Thankyou, Betty. You've done well...as always." Giving her a small smile, you grabbed the glass of orange juice and made a beeline towards Bucky's office, a plan forming in your head.

Something had happened last night. Something crucial. You'd stayed up most of the night trying to figure out what could have gone wrong. The security was on high alert and Bucky hadn't returned to the room at all.

Damping down the irritation rearing its head once again, you walked into his office. Sitting there, his lip busted open and stains of blood on his white shirt was your beloved husband.

"Good morning." Walking leisurely, you placed the glass of orange juice on the table. His eyes stalked your every movement as you took a second to scan him all over. He still had his jacket on, the first few buttons on his shirt unbuttoned giving a view of his blood smeared chest. Only James Bucky Buchanan Barnes could look sexy half beaten up.

"I hope the other guy is dead."

A smirk crawled onto Buckys face as he gave a slight nod.

"Good." You redirected your gaze to the documents spread across the table, taking a quick glance at the titles in bold. "When were you going to tell me?" you ask, voice deceptively calm and composed.

The only response from the man was a heavy sigh as he leaned back in his chair.

"I asked you a question, James." your sharp edged voice cut through the silence left behind by your husband.

"I know." his eyes had never left your face, a certain coldness in his gaze.

So this is how he was going to play. Bastard. Over the year, he had come to trust you with his business operations but it was never a hundred percent. Some days, like this, you could see the mistrust and the hesitancy in his eyes. To be fair, if the positions were reversed, you wouldn't have trusted him either. However, you had the innate need to know everything.

Every. Single. Thing.

As they say, knowledge is power.

Letting out a breath and loosening up the tension in your body, you walked around the desk to Bucky's side not breaking eye contact with him. Once you were in front of him, you gave him a small smile and sat down on his lap.

"James darling..my dear husband." Running a knuckle down his face you leaned closer to him, a pulse of satisfaction shooting through you as you saw his eyes darken. His hands were still placed upon the arm rests but you knew he was struggling to hold back. Good.

"I am your wife. Your partner. Your biggest ally." Running a thumb across his split lip, your gaze momentarily dropping and his hands slowly making their way to your hips, you dropped your voice to a whisper.

"So when someone tries to fuck with OUR business, I need to know." His hands gripped onto your hips as you pushed yourself down onto him, the growing tightness beneath his pants making you smug.

"Now tell me.." you continued. "Why did Tony Stark send a hitman after you ?"

His hands loosened immediately, surprise flashing across his features. It was your turn to watch him silently as the cogs in his brain worked. The lust filled haze had disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

"It doesn't involve you, Y/N." he said sternly. "It goes way back. Old rivalries."

"Hmm." Placing your hands on either side of his face, you made him meet your eyes. "Being a widow doesn't suit me, James. It's...detrimental to my image and capabilities."

Scoffing in amusement, he took his bottom lip between his teeth. You decided to stay silent and let him spill the beans soon.

One...

Two...

Three...

Four...

Five...

A deep breath and...BINGO.

"I blocked one of the more important deals of his life. He would have been unstoppable if it had gone through. But now...he'll never get the opportunity again."

"So you've been trying to kill each ever since?" you asked sarcastically.

Men and their stupid fragile egos.

Bucky held back a laugh as he said "No..I must admit this attack was quite out of the blue."

Your thoughts were going so fast that you barely keep up.

This changes things. This changes everything.

"Well...go take a shower. You need it." You got off of his lap abruptly only to be yanked back.

"Ja—"

“Now doll..I do admire your incessant need to know the ins and outs of my life but I do not appreciate your maid snooping around.” His hands slid down to your ass and grabbed it. “I think she’s done enough. Don’t you think?”

You tried your best to maintain a poker face. Of course he knew. He was the white wolf. He could sniff out bullshit from a mile away.

He must have been satisfied with the look in your eyes because he said “Good. I’ll see you at lunch.” And that was that.

Shooting a cold look at him, you left the room grabbing the glass of orange juice on the way.

The headlights of your car cut through the foggy night barely illuminating the surroundings.

He was late. Idiot.

This was such a delicate game. One wrong move and you could end up dead. That was the thrill of it. So as you waited in the car drumming your fingers against the steering wheel, adrenaline rushing through your veins, you went through the possible outcomes of your actions. All of them equally deadly. Perfect.

A break in the fog ahead of you cut through your thoughts.

Finally. 10 minutes late.

You got out of your car grabbing the envelope of cash with you. Heels clacked against the pavement as you reached one of your pawns.

"Took you long enough." you said sharply, handing over the envelope. "Twenty in cash. The rest in cheque."

A brisk nod followed by "It's always a pleasure doing business with you...Mrs.Barnes." The mocking tone used to address you did not escape your notice.

You smirked at him and his impudence. "I wish I could say the same."

That was that.

Getting back into your car, you watched as Alexander Pierce disappeared once again.

Chapter 3

134 notes · View notes

anjelagarrick · 1 year ago

Text

solace

simon riley x reader

summary: your boyfriend’s having an off day, you decide to comfort him.

tags: established relationship, depression, reverse comfort, fluff, a bit of angst, soft! simon

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

ADJUSTING THE SKIRT of your uniform, you smooth the creases, making sure your outfit was spotless before exiting the bathroom. Working as a barista was nice, you got to meet nice people, make cute latte art, it’s how you met your late boyfriend- he was dragged in by the arm by one of your regulars, Johnny. Simon was a big, burly man- hard eyes, quiet yet gruff voice. You found his mask adorable, unlike your co-workers that always had you serve him. Eventually, you managed to crack his wall and start little conversations; and eventually he came alone, no Johnny. He’d sit, observe. He was a good people watcher, you’d have to give him that. Something blooms, and eventually, you hesitantly leave your number upon a napkin, sliding it under his drink. You watched anxiously as he sat down, glancing at the napkin. He reads it for an awfully long time before pocketing it, he doesn’t look at you. He just drinks his drink, then leaves.

You feel extremely lucky that you managed to become his lover. Simon, despite looking tough and rough on the outside, was such a sweet man. He held you gently, helped you with cooking, he made you laugh. What got you to fall in love was his eyes, honey brown eyes that stared at you with adoration and joy, how he’d go from a stony look in public to a softened gaze when his eyes found you when you were out with friends. You understood that Simon would have to be away a lot, with his work and everything, you remember the first week he was away. You fretted, texting him every hour to make sure he was alive and kicking. With time; you developed more faith in your boyfriend’s abilities (not that you doubted them), and you held hope that he would come back. Simon had come home from deployment roughly about a week ago. He kept his experience quiet, not giving you many details- which wasn’t weird for him, yet something in him seemed more… sad.

“Baby, i’m going to work.” You lean upon the doorframe. Simon, to your surprise, was still in bed. With his job as a soldier, you were used to Simon getting up at six a.m, sharp, not a minute behind nor over. He’d have his coffee, go to the gym, come back and shower then allow himself to relax. Yet right now, as of seven forty-five a.m, he was in bed- in the same position you left him in. You knew he was awake, you had spoken to him briefly, told him good morning and kissed him sweetly. Simon doesn’t respond, his back to you. Slowly, you move away, walking down the hall. Instead of collecting your flats, you pick up your phone from next to your bag. It rings twice, then your boss picks up. “Hey, sir… so sorry but im gonna have to take the day off. Something came up.” You tell him, hearing your boss sigh. “Really? Rush hour is about to start.” He complains. “I know, but this is really important..! I’ll work a double tomorrow and Thursday- I promise.” You insist, glancing back to the bedroom. “And Friday. See you tomorrow.” Your boss hangs up without a goodbye. Heading to the kitchen, you make your boyfriend a coffee- just the way he likes it, and head back to the bedroom.

Slowly so it wouldn’t spill, you place the steaming mug beside him. “Thought you were going to work?” He asks, voice raspy. “I called in sick.” You respond, changing from your uniform into some more casual wear. “Why?” Simon’s brows furrow as he watches you, not moving. “To take care of you. Somethings up, I can tell.” You reply, shrugging as you get back into bed beside him. Simon sighs, rolling onto his back. “You don’t have to. Just… having an off day.” He tells you, you hum, shuffling to rest against his chest. “Why? What’s the matter, baby?” You ask softly, hand moving up to gently trace over a scar upon his cheek. Simon raises his hand, enveloping your own and kissing your palm. “Dunno, just… not feeling good.” He responds. “Do you need medicine?” You blink up at him, watching him shake his head. “No, not physically…”

“Oh…” You mumble, letting the silence sit for a while. “Si, do you have- y’know… depression?” You ask sheepishly, worry growing. “Yeah, got diagnosed a while back. Before I met you.” You sit up at his response. “Baby, why didn’t you tell me?” You frown, cupping his cheeks gently. “Didn’t wanna burden you. This is my fight.” He sighs, letting his eyes close. “Simon, you’re not a burden. You should of told me, I want to help you.” You lean down, kissing his jaw gently. “You’re such a good guy, Si. You deserve the world, and I want to support you as much as I possibly can.” You tell him, thumb still stroking his scar. “You… you don’t have to, babe. I’m fine.” Simon lies, voice thick; as if he were going to cry. “Simon…” you sigh, resting your head against his as you try to soothe him. “Let me help you.” You beg quietly. Simon stays silent for a few moments. “…okay.” He mutters, hand finding your back. You smile, kissing his temple before sitting up. “Okay. I have some ideas, just to get you out of bed and have you feeling active.” You move your hands to rest on his chest.

“I’m listening.” He responds. “Good! The first idea is, we could go out to a café; there’s a new one out of town that i’ve heard good things about. It’s not too far, to be fair.” You explain, watching his eyes; they’re kind, loving. “Up to you, love.” Simon shrugs half-heartedly. “Well it’s your day, baby. We can do something else if you want?” You remind him, he hums. “Fine, we can check out this café.” He mutters, letting you pull him up. “Okay. Drink your coffee before it gets cold baby, we’ll go soon.” You respond, kissing his cheek gently. “Thanks love… you don’t have to do this.” He smiles, it’s small. “I want to do this. I hate seeing you sad.” You frown a little, kissing his lips before pulling away so he could drink his coffee. He hums softly, sipping his coffee. “I know, but still… thank you.” He responds.

“Why’re you feeling so down, anyway? Anything happen? Maybe at work?” You respond, hand gently massaging his arm, specifically the one wrapped around you. “Yeah… uh. My job isn’t easy, and… this guy I was working with for the first time, he got really messed up. Almost died- and I… I could of helped- could of prevented it. I… I ruined his life.” You hear his voice waver a little at the end, yet he immediately shuts his mouth, closing his eyes. “Oh, Simon. It’s not your fault.” You cup his cheeks, fluttering gentle kisses over his face. “It is. I could of been faster.” He insists, sighing shakily. “Simon, look at me. There is nothing you could of done differently. Your job is dangerous, he knew that when he signed up to join.” You tell him, voice much more firm. Simon sighs. “You did all you could, I’m sure.” You add on, kissing his lips gently. “You weren’t there.” He seethes, eyes darkening a little. You try not to let his tone hurt you. “But I know you. You’re such a sweetheart, you truly do care about the people around you, even though you won’t say it. I know you helped him, he’s still alive, isn’t he?” You ask, hands moving to his sides, gently massaging him. Simon let’s out another sigh, closing his eyes once more. “Look at me.” You mumble, patting his cheek gently. “It’s not your fault.” You insist.

Simon takes a moment, leaning his head against yours before taking a deep breath. “Yeah… okay, you’re right.” He mutters, squeezing his mug tightly as his other arm hugs you tight. “Of course i’m right, doofus.” You half joke, kissing the corner of his mouth; feeling it curl upwards as you do so. “Finish your coffee baby, and try not to worry. You’re home now.” You point out, he nods. “Yeah. Just gotta relax a little…” he responds, kissing you gently. “Thank you, baby.” He mumbles, you smile. “Of course! I’m not gonna abandon you, Si.” You coo, cuddling against his side as he drinks his coffee. “Want me to pick out an outfit for you baby?” You ask softly, head leaning against his shoulder. “If you want, love.” He shrugs a little. You smile brightly. “Great!” Moving away, you get up, moving to the closet. Simon watches you, a glint of amusement in his eyes as you pick your favourite things on him out and put them on the bed. “I heard this new place serves that cake you like. We’ll have to get some.” You say over your shoulder. Simon nods, finishing his coffee. “Sure thing, baby.”

#mw2 2022 #mw2 imagine #mw2 x reader #mw2 x you #mw2022 #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost mwii #mw2 ghost #ghost x female reader #| anjela wrote this 🕯️

887 notes · View notes

belxveds · 2 years ago

Text

[wisdom has left the chat]

pairing: peter parker x f!reader

brief: you get your wisdom teeth removed . . . who the fuck gave you your phone? (peter did.) where you're extremely high on anesthesia and pain meds, flash can't get a hint, and peter is flushed bright red at your lack of filter on the group chat.

tags: humour. fluff. crack fic. texting. sex mention.

a/n: ✩

requests are open!

wc: 1.6k

"Am I being kidnapped?", you whisper out breathily as you writhed under the fastened seatbelt that Peter had done up a couple moments earlier, twisting around clumsily as you tried to press down on the buckle and free yourself from the restraint.

Peter who had just placed away the prescription note and after-surgery procedure instructions in the backseat sighed before quickly getting a grip on your wrist, holding it in place so that it wouldn’t do more damage.

Making eye contact with you and holding your gaze for a few seconds to make sure that you wouldn’t try to get away for the 4th time that evening, he dragged your hand over onto your lap and let it drop softly against your legging clad thighs before responding, “No babe, I’m taking you home.”

You crossed your arms, or at least tried to- only whacking Peter’s nose twice before pouting through the window like a petulant child, spit and blood pooling up underneath your chin as the gauze between your teeth started to fall out. Grumbling under your breath, you garbled out, “Don’t call me babe.”

Peter let out a giggle as he reached for a napkin, holding you by your jaw with extreme caution and turning you towards him so that he could clean up the saliva gathered there, “Why can’t I call you babe, babe?”

Your pout deepened at the outright disrespect as you you gently patted Peter’s knee, as if trying to let him down easy, “Only my boyfriend can call me babe. He’s Spider-Man, you know?” The second part tilted up at the end into a proud and fond voice, your eyes turning soft before realizing where you were and snapping your hand back into yourself.

“Is that right?”, Peter asked amused, finally pulling out of the parking lot of the dentistry and towards the road.

“Yup.”, you exclaimed, popping the p and dancing your fingers across the dash in front of you as you felt the small vibrations tingle up your palm, smiling wide when a small brr emitted from your nails dragging along the textured pattern set around the vent of the AC.

A few more seconds passed of you randomly grazing your fingers along different parts of the interior of Tony’s car, the different materials stimulating your touch before you turned your head completely around and faced your body and attention towards him. Your gaze flickering across a strong jawline and soft set cheekbones, stopping as you paused at his hair. “You have curls.”

Peter glanced at you quickly before returning his focus to the road, sparing a look at himself in the mirror as he ran a hand through the unruly mess, “I do.”

You sighed wistfully as you rested your head against the cushioning of your seat, “Peter has curls.”

Peter let out a laugh, “Y/N, I’m Peter.”

You gave him the most incredulous look before falling into a fit of hiccupped laughter, your palms spaying on your flushed cheeks as you looked back up at him again as if he had just the funniest thing you’d ever heard, “Oh! Don’t be silly, Peter’s at home!”

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed. He doesn’t think he’d ever heard you use the word “silly” unironically in his entire 3 years of dating you. Anyway. That wasn’t the point. Peter only hesitated for a second before continuing, if the roles were reversed, he knew that you’d do the exact same thing, “Hmm, right. How . . . silly . . . of me. So ba-Y/N, tell me about Peter.”

You sighed wistfully, twirling your hair as if you were in a teen rom-com before starting, "He's so pretty and oh my god, you should see his abs. You could wash your clothes on them, I'm telling you. Washboard. And he's so smart and kind and fuck . . . the way he fucks-"

Peter choked a little, wide-eyed, sneaking a quick glance at you as he swerved into the parking lot of the pharmacy before interrupting, cheeks red as he said, "I-uhh-listen, I've got to go in and grab some medicine for you so I'm going to need you to be very responsible, ok? Can you do that?"

You scoffed, offended, "I am the most super very much responsible person in this car, sir, and for your information, I'll have you know, that I am very responsible."

Peter let out a small giggle at your antics before nodding, slowly bringing out your phone from his pocket before begrudgingly handing it over, watching you squeal like a child as you gripped it to your chest, "Call me if you need anything and please, Y/N, for the love of god, don't post anything or text anyone."

Y/N Stark's FanClub 🤩 10 members . Private Chat

11:52 am . May 7th

Y/N: HLEP SOS RED Jason: ... Betty: Y/N WHAT HAPPENED?? Y/N: I'ev been kidnpaped 😧 Cindy: And the kidnapper didn't take your phone? Kind of a stupid kidnapper if you ask me Betty: CINDY- OMG Sally: HUH 😧 Y/N: He's hot tho...so it's fine ig BUT STILL >:( how dare he Flash: Idk what you're talking about hun, I didn't kidnap you Y/N: Shut your ulgy ass up Jason: BAHAHAHBDAJBDJKSFBK Sally: pFFTTT- Betty: Is no one else concerned? :,) MJ: Peter took her to get her wisdom teeth removed, she's fine. Cindy: high y/n 😧 Charles: Why tf are there so many 😧😧😧 Charles: Y/N IS KIDNAPPED?? OUR QUEEN- Charles: oh :) nm

Jason: nonono cindy it's more like

Jason: high y/n 😈

Y/N: yes jason hehe 😈

Ned: @peterparker @peterparker @peterparker

Ned: bro come collect your girlfriend

Y/N: hey! pter doesn't own me >:( i'm an indepnedant woman

Sally: yeah ned wtf

Sally: sexist

Cindy: that's so digusting

Betty: you think women belong to men 🤨

Ned: skfjnskjfednsjkefnskefns 😭😭😭 ?!?!?!?!

✩ Y/N STARK has started a group call for Y/N Stark's FanClub 🤩 ✩

Blinking a bit deliriously as familiar faces of your friends popped up on your screen, you giggled in glee at their appearance as you struggled to smile through your puffy cheeks and bloody cotton pads.

Propping your phone up on the dashboard with some struggle as you folded back, your eyes widened over the chaos of questions erupting from the speakers as you caught a glance of your kidnapper returning.

Based on his stern glare as he checked his phone and then back up at you, you panickedly gargled, "Guys! Oh no oh no oh no- he's coming back!"

Sally, still in her pajamas yet more alert than half the rest of the group call attendees, pitched in, "Hide? I-"

You stared at her in confusion as you looked around at the limited hiding spaces big enough to fit your uncoordinated body in the car.

"What?", Jason snorted, "No- Y/N, Y/N, hear me out . . . seduce him."

Your face of disgust made him burst out into laughter as Betty played along, no longer concerned, "Tell him your dad's Iron Man!!"

Jason who'd finally caught his breath wheezed, "I still think my idea is the best-"

You'd just let out a noise of distress at the thought of flirting with someone other than your boyfriend when the door to the driver's seat swung open.

Wincing as the handsome man sat down, you made panicked side-eyes at the screen as you murmured out a small, "Hello, not-my-boyfriend Peter."

Watching him roll his eyes, he peeked his head into the view of your camera as he gave a small wave at your friends. All them chorusing their greetings as he turned and huffed at you, "What was the one thing I said not to do when I left you with your phone?"

"Well . . . technically it was two things-", your murmured as you withered in your seat, bringing your palms to your face as you heard laughter echo from the screen.

"I don't think you guys see the opportunity in front of us right now", Flash grinned, "This is basically Y/N on truth serum."

The mischievous glance Flash gave you made Peter sigh in defeat as he pulled out of the parking lot, knowing a lost battle when he saw one. There was no going to make you cut the call now as you squealed forward, taking the phone into your hands and giggling, "Like truth or dare!"

"Ok Y/N . . . I'll ask first . . .", Flash began, Peter's forearms going up in goosebumps as he heard noises of wariness erupt from the screen. This was going to be interesting.

"Are you actually in love with Peter?"

The smirk MJ gave at your bewildered expression made Peter let out a snort of laughter, Flash's endless pursuit to get a chance with his girlfriend nothing less than amusing.

You sighed wistfully, smiling like a disney princess as you looked off out the window, "He's like a shot of espresso, like . . . being bathed in sunlight. He's incredibly energetic and enthusiastic, and has this sense of… play and fun when you're alone with him, which was incredibly exciting."

You faced the phone again, "He's so- smart and sweet and caring. Like a prince. Extremely charming, especially when he's nervous. And there's thing he does when he's trying to pretend he's annoyed at me as he fights off a smile like- like he just scrunches his nose and it's so . . . he's so cute, I just want to pinch his cheeks and suck his dick, you know?"

You leaned in close to the camera ignoring the embarrassment of Flash's face and the giggles from everyone else as you whispered, as if indulging them in on a secret, "He's also amazing in bed. Like there's this thing he did with his tongue last night and-

Peter's hand had never moved faster as it slapped across your mouth to keep you shut, his ears burning red as he let out a cough, "Aaand that will be the end of that, say bye to them, we're almost at the compound."

The hoots and hollers from your phone made him groan, knowing he'd never hear the end of it as Charles brokenly said in between tears of laughter, "S-simp."

mailbox ༶•┈ peter parker's mailbox! ┈•༶ send letter

#✩ belxveds #-ˋˏ belxveds wrote ༶ peter parker!#peter parker #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader fluff #peter parker smau #peter parker social media au #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n

2K notes · View notes