#so rosy if you see this love u | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rinneverse · 11 months ago

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࿐ ♡ ˚ . 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚! — 𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒓𝒊 𝒚𝒖𝒖𝒋𝒊. ˒ ⊹

me and my roommate get drunk one night and end up fucking!!!! oh my god, this is so awkward…

୨ৎ syn. it’s your final year of uni—after midterms come to a close, you decide to celebrate by getting absolutely SMASHED with your roommate, itadori yuuji. much to your chagrin, this decision comes with a boatload of consequences. how do you navigate the awkward morning after with your golden retriever of a roommate!? (4.8k)

୨ৎ pairing. itadori yuuji x f!reader

୨ৎ cw. modern au, fem!reader, both yuuji and reader are in their final year of uni and are implied to be 21+, alcohol mentions, drunk sex, dubious consent (read prev warning), pet names used (baby, pretty, angel), oral (f!receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, creampie, dealing w/ the repercussions of fucking your roommate the morning after (but it ended up alot more fluffier and romantic than i intended because i love him), minors + ageless blogs dni! 18+ content under the cut!!

୨ৎ love, oak! oh christ almighty. i like itadori yuuji a normal amount. i just really really think he'd make the perfect boyfriend ever. first time writing for him so hoping and praying he isn’t incredibly ooc but regardless,, hope u guys like this i wrote it with my entire clit :3 crossposted to ao3 here!

[ main m.list! ┊coming soon... ]

“Yuu~ji!”

Your lilting voice carries through the shared living space of your apartment. Shuffling in through the entryway, the door clicks shut behind you as you peer around the corner of the entrance hallway.

“You there? Yu?”

You hear a muted groan come from the couch in response.

Toeing off your shoes with a giggle and setting them onto the shoe-rack (the same shoe-rack you constantly have to pester Yuuji about—”Yu, don’t just leave your shoes on the floor! The rack is right there!”—every other day), you peek over the back of the fluffy couch in the living area and find Yuuji sprawled on his stomach over it, face shoved in a pillow.

“How are you feeling?” you ask.

“Like I’m dying,” comes his muffled reply.

You reach a hand down to tousle his already messy bubblegum pink hair. He weakly bats a hand at you.

“Surely you can live a little longer for a night out with your favorite roommate?”

With a grunt, Yuuji flips over, lying on his back. He blinks once, twice. Then he grins; that familiar, radiant grin that makes your heart speed up a little in your chest. You can feel your own smile widen in response.

“I think I can do that,” he says, propping himself up on his elbows. He tilts his head at you. “You’re not gonna pass out on me again though, are you?”

Your eyes narrow slightly in challenge. Bringing your face closer to his by leaning over the couch, you reply snarkily, “and you’re not gonna force me to shoulder you the whole way home again, are you?”

Yuuji’s eyes widen at the new proximity, a faint rosiness rising to his cheeks that makes you giddy. His throat bobs before he replies, “No, promise I won’t.”

You think you see his eyes flick down momentarily—towards the swell of your chest, exposed by the low-cut top you had chosen to wear today—causing a smug sense of satisfaction to pool in your tummy. You lean further, the urge to be a tease winning out over your usual sense: over the notion that you shouldn’t be flirting with the guy you live with. It's entirely a bad idea (and yet here you are, doing it anyways).

Yuuji’s lips part slightly; when he meets your gaze again, there’s hunger shining in his big brown eyes, hazy and diluted by conflict. You can see the inner strife going on in his head already: he shouldn’t be feeling this way about his roommate. He shouldn’t be a perv.

You shouldn’t be feeling this way about him either, but you just can’t help yourself. Something about the way he’s looking at you fills you with a streak of confidence that throws all common sense out of the window.

“Good. Be ready at 7?” Your tone has noticeably lowered, nearly a purr even as you smile innocently down at him.

Yuuji swallows again, still looking like a deer caught in the headlights. “Sure—okay. Sounds good!” He babbles nervously.

It’s cute. He’s cute.

“Cool. ‘m gonna get a nap in then.”

He nods his head slowly. The tension hovers in the air between you, so palpable you could cut it with a knife. Slowly, ever so slowly, you straighten, watching as his eyes never leave your form. You bite your lip and offer Yuuji a softer smile before you turn on your heel and make your way to your bedroom.

You can feel the way his eyes bore holes into your back as you walk away, skirt swishing with every step. You purposefully sway your hips a little more despite yourself and you think you hear him choke slightly, a sound that makes you feel much more smug than it realistically should.

As you close the door to your bedroom, the only thing on your mind isn’t how tired you are from dealing with midterms—it’s how Yuuji looked at you just moments ago, eyes gleaming with raw want, like you were a five star meal served on a silver platter. You clutch your chest as you flop onto your bed.

There’s always been an underlying tension between you and Yuuji. It used to be easier to ignore, something left tucked away in the corners of your mind, leaving you to instead settle for an easy friendship. Something that doesn’t complicate things, especially since you live together. There’s no avoiding any awkward encounters should either of you decide to take that step.

But lately, things have been coming to a boiling point. You’re not sure if it’s the stress of your final year of uni dawning upon you or if its just years of tension finally being pulled taut enough to snap—whatever it is, it has muddled your senses enough to find flirting with Yuuji fun instead of something forbidden. It has you pushing boundaries you never thought you would push with him before.

Oh, well. If there was any time for things to make some bad decisions and get a little complicated with your incredibly handsome roommate, your last year of uni might just be perfect. Screw the consequences.

“Yuu,” you moan, drunkenly stumbling into a wall of muscle.

Thankfully, that wall of muscle happens to be Itadori Yuuji. He wraps a strong arm around your waist, a hiccup bubbling from his lips as he grins down at you.

“Hey there,” Yuuji laughs. “You okay?”

“Yeeeeaaahhh,” you slur. “Are we home yet?”

“Almost there. Hang on a little bit more for me, okay?”

The night air is crisp and cooling against your balmy skin, a welcome relief after spending hours in a bar packed with sweaty bodies and bass thrumming through your veins. It’s breezy, fallen leaves rustling across the ground as the wind scatters them along the sidewalk. A particularly stronger gust has you pressing closer to Yuuji, your little top and skirt doing little to protect you against the autumnal weather.

Yuuji pauses, making sure you’re steady before he shrugs off his jacket.

“Here, put this on,” he says, gently maneuvering your arms into the warm sleeves. His cologne wraps around you in its embrace, warm and musky and tinged just a little bit with alcohol. You smile.

Megumi and Nobara have already made their separate ways home, the former grabbing an uber while Nobara hitched a ride home with Maki. You can’t help the way you giggle and stumble as Yuuji ushers you forward again. “Nobaraaa’s gonna geeet iiiiit,” you snicker, latching onto the hard muscle of Yuuji’s bicep to steady yourself. “Did you see the way Maki w’s lookin’ at her? I wish someone looked at me that way.”

Yuuji is probably about equally as blasted as you are (you went shot for shot, after all), but he manages to carry himself in a more sober manner than you. He lets you latch onto him like a koala as he guides you through the doors of your apartment building.

He’s quiet. Uncharacteristically so—he’s usually a chatterbox when drunk.

“Yuuji? Did’ya even hear me?” you push.

“I heard ya,” Yuuji hums, pulling you into the elevator with him. As the machinery moves up to your floor, it makes your stomach lurch—forcing you to grab onto Yuuji tighter and bury your face in his shoulder.

“Are we there yet?” You grumble into his arm, clutching him tight.

“Almost,” he replies softly. You think you feel a gentle kiss being pressed to the crown of your head, but with the way everything is spinning, you can’t be entirely sure.

Between some time and the next, you’re finally ambling into your apartment, clutching Yuuji’s jacket tight around you. As the door clicks shut, you spin to face him—

—and end up nearly face planting, if not for the way Yuuji surges forward to catch you in his arms. “Woah there,” he mumbles. “Steady. Don’t move too fast, or you’ll fall.”

Despite his words, he has to lean against the now shut door to keep himself upright, you can feel that much. You grasp the fabric of his shirt in balled fists, pressed against the sturdy surface of his chest. You can feel the way his muscles flex and roll as he shifts with the way you’re pressed up against him.

When you look up at him, doe-eyes wide, you’re met with brown eyes glimmering with want. Lust.

“Yuu… ji?” Your lips part slightly as you suck in a breath. He inhales in sync, his hands dropping to curl around your waist. He holds you gently, like a porcelain teacup on the verge of breaking.

It's quiet. There's a dazed look in his eyes as he stares at you.

“Can I kiss you?” The question falls from his lips softly—but with the silence of the apartment, so quiet you could hear a pin drop, it’s earth shattering. His eyes drop down to your glossy lips, his tongue darting out to wet his own.

You’re not in your right mind. This is a bad idea. You know this.

You don’t care.

Pulling at the collar of his shirt, you tug him down to you, lips meeting in a clash of teeth and tongue. It’s electrifying, everything you’ve ever wanted and needed in this one moment, warmth exploding in your chest like a dying star.

Fuck. You were kissing Itadori Yuuji—and it’s everything you dreamt it would be.

He pants your name amidst kisses but it’s hard to hear with your heart roaring in your ears, a drum beating an unsteady rhythm that throws you off balance in your very core. You stumble into the shoe-rack trying to hastily drag him over to the couch. Shoes clatter to the floor as you tumble into him, a moan falling from your lips as he paws at you while your hands tangle in his hair.

“I was lookin’ at you like that, you know?” Yuuji groans as the two of you fall back onto the couch. He holds you on top of him, letting you get comfy as you straddle his lap before he continues. “You haven’t noticed?”

His voice is heavy, dragging drunkenly as you stare down at him. In this position, with Yuuji laid back on the couch, you feel like you’re towering over him—giving you some semblance of control, even though you know perfectly well that Yuuji can flip you over and take you just like that. You dip your hands under his shirt, nails gently scratching against the velvet wrapped steel planes of his abs. Pushing the fabric up, you reveal the faint happy trail that begins at his navel, disappearing teasingly under the waistband of his jeans. You bite your lip.

“Hey,”—your name falls from his lips in the form of a plea, desperate and sweet—”Look at me.”

Big hands squeezing your hips force your attention back to him. You finally listen and meet his gaze, finding that his eyes are heavily eclipsed by dilated pupils, leaving a faint ring of hazel in its wake. It’s like a dark sun, or perhaps a black hole threatening to pull you into him, consumed by everything that is Itadori Yuuji.

You think you wouldn’t mind that one bit.

“Are you sure this is okay?” He’s worried, something that makes your heart warm fondly, giving you a moment of clarity amidst the fog of lust that addles your brain. The guys you typically went home with sometimes never found it in themselves to care too much about you. But Yuuji… he’s different. He does care. Yuuji continues, a touch softer, “We’re both drunk… what if we regret it in the morning?”

You slowly reach down to cradle his face in your hands. When you speak, it’s with a bold certainty that Yuuji cannot argue with: “I know I won’t regret it.”

Yuuji nods his head. With that anxiety out of the way, he surges up to kiss you with renewed vigor, tugging his jacket off of you and pulling the hem of your top over your chest to reveal your tits. When he pulls back, his eyes widen slightly as he takes in the pretty lace bra you had opted to wear out tonight.

“You’re beautiful,” Yuuji says softly. A groan catches in his throat as you roll your hips down against his, delicious friction against his erection that has you mewling for more.

“Yu,” you sigh out as he unhooks your bra with clumsy fingers, pulling your shirt off as well in one go. The garments flutter to the floor, forgotten.

“I mean it—you really are.” His voice has noticeably deepened, taking on a huskier tone that makes your toes curl. “I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. I never can.”

He presses another kiss to your lips, quick and chaste, drawing a path down your jaw, the slope of your neck. He removes a hand from your waist to palm at your sensitive breast, drawing a whimper from you that has his cock twitching in his pants. “I can’t believe you’ve never noticed. Our friends tease me all the time for it, you know?” He sighs, nearly a whine, words slurring together in a lust-drunk haze as he presses a kiss to your collar. “I could never take another girl home with me because I only want you.”

Yuuji’s drunken confession sends you reeling, thighs tightening together around him as you tilt his chin up towards you. Love and adoration glimmers in your eyes as you respond gently, “I only want you, too.”

He smiles at you then, scooping you up in his arms as he rises. “Don’t wanna ruin the couch,” he murmurs, strong hands grasping at the fat of your ass as he carries you with ease. “Your room or mine?”

“Yu—” you gasp, clutching onto him for dear life, “mine, please.”

Even drunk, he moves with you with a practiced ease—as if you’ve done this your entire lives. As he lays you on your bed, he curls over you, lips pressing together messily as his hands fiddle with the hem of your skirt. There’s a brief moment where he pants, “Can I take them off, pretty? Can I?,” as he nips at your lower lip. You nod your head; immediately he’s sliding them off, leaving you in your lacy undergarments and feeling unfairly naked compared to him. You cross your arms over your chest shyly.

Yuuji smiles sweetly as he kneels, pressing a kiss to your navel.

“Don’t hide from me, baby. I wanna see you..” He trails off as he hooks his fingers under the band of your panties, eyes flicking up to yours in silent question. You can only manage to nod your head—words have entirely escaped you at this point. If you spoke, you weren’t sure what, exactly, would come out.

The way he pulls the fabric off of you is almost reverent, his eyes never leaving your body as he sets your panties to the side. His breath is hot against your skin as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh.

“Baby,” Yuuji starts, the pet name falling from his lips with ease, like something familiar, “tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

Calloused fingertips press into the sensitive flesh of your thighs as he pushes your legs open, even going as far as hooking a leg over his shoulder as he settles between them. His breath is hot and heavy as he grows closer to your core. It’s embarrassing, and you want to press your legs together, but Yuuji doesn’t allow this. He’s firm in his place, holding your legs wide open, baring you to him.

He starts gentle. A kiss to the apex of your thighs, a gentle finger running along your sensitive, weeping slit. A shiver runs down your spine as he parts you open, eyes raptly on you.

“Don’t stare,” you whine. “It’s embarrassing.”

He murmurs a soft apology, taking one more second for himself before he dives right in: tongue lapping at you voraciously, pulling the sweetest of moans from your lips as he eats you out like a man starved. You try to press your thighs together once more but he holds you open, unyielding in his grip as his tongue dips in your slit, then draws upwards, making circles around your clit.

He’s messy in the way he eats you out. He doesn’t hold back, either: he laps at you like he’s a dehydrated man at last finding an oasis, drinking in your juices like it’s the finest of nectars. Slick covers his chin as he raises his head to look at you, half-lidded eyes meeting yours as he eases a finger into you. It slips in with ease, aided by how wet you’ve gotten on just his tongue alone.

Your back arches as he pumps his finger into you. You need more. “Yuuji,” you plead in a broken moan. “Need more—want your cock inside me, I can take it.”

His eyes widen slightly, but he’s nodding his head like an eager puppy, withdrawing his hand and rising to pull his clothes off. You whine, a soft plea of, “hurry, need you now,” that has Yuuji clumsily fumbling at the button of his jeans. He doesn’t even pull them off fully, letting the fabric pool at his ankles as he takes his dick in his hands and presses his hips to yours. His shaft presses against your messy slit, pulsing and needy.

“Fuck,” he curses, a soft whine sounding deep in his throat as his hips cant against yours. Your eyes are wide and unblinking as you take in the sight: Yuuji, desperate, grasping your legs and nearly folding you in half as his cock rests on your pelvis, your navel. He’s big. The thought of someone his size fucking into you should be scary, but you know Yuuji will take care of you—or perhaps that’s the liquor in your brain telling you that you can take it, that you need him inside of you now.

“You’re gonna feel me so deep, baby,” he mumbles, entranced by the sight. You buck your hips slightly, barely moving thanks to the hold he has on you.

“I can take it,” you repeat, your breathing growing heavier with every passing second. “I need it. Give it to me, Yuuji.” Your hands grasp at the sheets beneath you as finally, finally, he slides the tip against your slit, catching a few times against your clit (”Yuuji, stop teasing me!”) before he finally eases into you, his fat tip breaching your weeping cunt. The stretch burns, but the sensation is not an unwelcome one.

Your mouth drops open in a silent moan as Yuuji hunches over you, pressing further into your pussy. It feels like it should almost be fucking impossible how deep he reaches inside you like this.

“Baby, baby,” Yuuji whines against the shell of your ear, breath hot and wet. You can feel his chest heave against yours as he struggles to regain his bearings. “You’re so tight—don’t think I can pull out, you feel s’good…”

As he bottoms out, you think you might die like this. His cock fills you so perfectly, pulsing and twitching inside you as he forces himself to still—to give you time to adjust.

You don’t want time, though. You really will fucking die if he doesn’t move soon.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him down to you to messily slot your lips against his, moaning into his mouth as his hips buck into yours. “Yuuji,” you breathe out against his lips. “Fuck me.”

“Okay, baby.” He nods, pressing his sweat slick forehead to yours as he moves his hips. He starts slower, long strokes that force you to feel all of him, deep and all-consuming and overwhelming your senses with him, strong arms caging you against the bed as he fucks into you again and again and again.

Yuuji’s pace picks up, your moans a sweet melody in his ears that spurs him on, making him lose all ration in his brain—it’s evident, in the way he growls almost animalistically, hips starting to rut into yours with reckless abandon. His balls slap against your ass, accompanied by a lewd squelch with every thrust into your messy cunt.

“Yu, fuck—please,” you sob with every thrust. He angles his hips a little differently until he finds the perfect spot—that sensitive little part of your cunt that has stars exploding behind your eyelids. Once he finds it, he narrows his focus on it, bullying his cock relentlessly into your pussy until you’re sobbing.

Your nails scratch along his back, leaving angry red marks in their wake. Yuuji groans and buries his face into the crook of your neck, mouthing and biting at the sensitive flesh as his hips pound into you.

“G’nna cum, don’t stop, ohhhh god,” you gasp out as Yuuji nips at the flesh of your collar. You claw at his back, toes curling in the air when you feel him slide a hand between your slick bodies to thumb at your clit, adding to the orchestra of sensations that are driving you mad with pleasure.

“Cum for me, angel,” Yuuji urges you breathlessly, fucking you with a renewed fervor. His hips are starting to stutter, and his large hands are grasping your thighs in a bruising grip as you convulse around him. His voice alone is enough to tip you over the edge; you’re falling into him, into oblivion, orgasming so hard your vision goes dark for a moment.

A long moan of his name falling from your lips is enough to push him over with you, white hot ropes of his cum coating your pulsing heat. You feel utterly breathless, boneless, as Yuuji slowly eases your legs down. The ache is pleasant.

“Baby,” Yuuji pants softly, breaking the pleasant silence as he brushes his fingers across your forehead. “I’m still… can I..?”

Oh, god. He is still rock hard inside of you. Your pussy is still fluttering with the world-shattering orgasm he had just given you—you’re not sure if you can take more.

But Yuuji looks at you with pleading eyes, your name falling from his lips with such desperation that you’re nodding your head, opening your arms for him. He smiles down at you, and as he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your lips, his hips slowly start to rut into yours again.

You’re not sure how many rounds you go with Yuuji—the rest of the night is a blur of moans and groans, of him making you cum again and again and again, as many times as you can possibly take.

You wake up with a pounding headache and a foreign weight slung over your chest.

“Oh, fuck,” you hiss quietly to yourself, voice raspy with remnants of sleep. “How much did I drink last night?”

Blinking open bleary eyes, you squint against the light that filters into the room—your room, which doesn’t make any sense because you never bring home your one night stands. Your hand brushes against the strong arm slung over you, and that’s when you hear an all-too-familiar snore.

“Oh, fuck.” You repeat, dread creeping into your groggy voice.

That was Itadori Yuuji in bed with you. That was your fucking roommate, naked in bed with you. You’re wearing his overly large t-shirt, and there’s an ache between your thighs that explains exactly what had transpired when you returned home with him last night.

You don’t remember too much, typical of nights where you have a little too much to drink. What you can grasp—mere wisps in the back of your mind—are fleeting moments of mind-numbing pleasure, or of sweet-nothings being whispered into your ear. Whatever scraps of memory you do have are enough to make you want to scream into a pillow out of sheer embarrassment.

You feel the arm around you tighten as Yuuji pulls you into his chest and you squeak.

Oh, that’s just fucking mortifying.

“Mmh… huh?” Yuuji mumbles sleepily. He slowly blinks, eyes focusing on you after a few moments. “What are you doing in my bed..?”

Your eyes widen as you scramble to sit up, grasping at the sheets to keep your lower body covered as you do so. Your mouth opens and closes as you look for the right words to say.

Yuuji’s eyebrows furrow. He seems to have come to a realization without you having to say it out loud.

“Oh. This isn’t...” Yuuji frowns. He’s calm in a way that confuses you—why isn’t he freaking out like you are? “We got really hammered last night, huh?”

You slowly nod your head in agreement. “Do you… remember anything?”

Your attention is drawn to his lips when he bites his lower one in thought, then drifts downards when you catch the blooming hickeys on his neck in your peripherals. Oh, god, did you leave those? What were you thinking?

All too slowly, Yuuji’s eyes meet yours. The way he looks at you is almost unbearable. There’s a sinking sensation in your chest: you think he might apologize, or tell you that last night was a mistake. That he won’t let it happen again. Quickly, you blurt, “You don’t have to say it. I get it.”

Yuuji tilts his head, his train of thought forgotten. “Say what?”

“I get that you regret it.” The words start tumbling out of your mouth and there’s little you can do to stop it. “It’s okay, you won’t hurt my feelings. I know you’re too kind to just say it outright like that—“

Yuuji opens his mouth to say something, but you barrel onwards, looking down at your lap. You’re too mortified to look at him directly.

“—And I understand if you maybe want to avoid me for awhile? I know things will be awkward, so seriously, take whatever time you need—“

Your onslaught of words is cut off by Yuuji cupping your face in his hands as he leans forward to kiss you. It’s gentle, and while it only lasts for a heartbeat, to you it feels like it lasts a lifetime.

Stunned, you lift a hand to your lips, ghosting your fingers over them as you stare at him. You’re absolutely dumbfounded.

“Sorry,” Yuuji starts softly, his thumb brushing your cheek gently. “I didn’t know how else to stop you.”

You blink at him, making a noise in the back of your throat. It’s an exhale of breath, of one you didn’t even know you were holding until just now.

“I don’t regret it. And I really hope you don’t, too.” Yuuji sighs gently. When his eyes meet yours, he looks unsure, but he continues, “I meant everything I said last night. You’re beautiful, and you’re all I’ve ever wanted. Have been, for awhile now.”

“Oh,” is all you can manage. You think your heart might explode in your chest. It beats an uneven rhythm, pulsing against your ribcage as if it’s bound to break out any moment now.

“I just didn’t want to ruin our friendship, yanno? But now that, uh...” He clears his throat. “Last night happened… I might as well come out with it.”

You nod your head as his words sink in. Yuuji visibly gets more distressed with every second that passes in tense silence, so you say, “Okay. I see.”

He swallows—you know what he wants to ask: ‘Do you like me like that, too?’ but he doesn’t voice it out loud. It hangs in the air, heavy and oppressive. You carefully deliberate your next words.

“Will you take me on a date, Yuuji?” you ask bluntly.

“What?”

“I said—”

“No, no, I heard what you said.” His eyes widen slightly, stark relief visible in his irises. “Are you sure? I mean—I’d love to. Yes. I’ll take you wherever you want to go, angel. You name it.”

You smile fondly at Yuuji—you think if he had a tail, it would be wagging ferociously right about now. “First, you can get me a glass of water and some ibuprofen. Then we’ll talk about date plans, ‘kay?”

Yuuji nods his head fervently. He rises out of bed—and quickly realizes that he’s still naked. “Oh—shit, don’t look,” he stammers, lunging for his boxers that were conveniently laid out on the floor as he blushes. Once he’s got those pulled on, he turns towards you. You’ve politely averted your eyes.

“I’ll be back in a sec,” he murmurs, grabbing your attention by gently grasping your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. “Anything else I should grab ya?”

You feel your face warm up at the affection as you shake your head. With a smile, Yuuji shuffles out of your room to go fetch your requested items.

As you sit in the quiet of your bedroom, listening to Yuuji rustle through the bathroom, you think that maybe fucking your roommate wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

please don't repost on other platforms. rbs and comments are super appreciated ♡ !!

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wexhappyxfew · 17 days ago

Note

KATIE I'M SCREAMINGGGGGG!!!!!!!

hello my friend! i was wondering if i could request the prompt with one of your OCs (whoever you most prefer, but kat or grace also appear in my mind best for this!): “yawning whilst trying to convince me you’re not tired tends to have the opposite effect.”

thank you thank you!!!✨

Hi Shannon!!!! Thank you for sending this - not me asking for prompts and then taking a hundred years to write them. ANYWAY, this one screamed Rosie and Grace to me, so here we are! Also this one really took a turn. Like a good turn, but one even I didn't expect!!! Whew!!!!!! Enjoy :)

The hospital is quiet in the evening, and Grace wipes down the last of the exam tables before shoving a few curls that have slipped their pins behind her ears. She’s grateful for a chance to catch her breath - it’s been a long day.

They’re at capacity in the hospital due to missions from earlier in the week that went awfully. The worst of the casualties had been evacuated, but nearly every bed has a man in it in varying states of distress. It’s a full day’s work to keep herself and her staff from falling behind in their duties.

The familiar swish of the double doors causes her to look up, and she smiles at the familiar head of dark hair coming in. Her smile disappears quickly when she remembers what day it is.

“Rosie!” She gasps.

He’s already shaking his head as he walks toward her.

“I’m so sorry—“

“Don’t apologize.” He instinctively grabs her hand when he gets close enough. “You’ve been busy.”

“I should have left here an hour ago!” She’s mortified - it’s not often she was going to be off shift early enough to have a real, sit-down dinner, and here she is working right through it. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not like I made a reservation,” he says, chuckling. “We can go to the pub any time. Now, if you want.”

“Let me wash up. I don’t have time to change—“

“You’re lovely as you are. Don’t change a thing.” He says, grinning as he watches her blush.

She quickly excuses herself to the restroom and stares at herself in the mirror. Despite being tired, her eyes are bright. She has the Major to thank for that.

It still feels like a dream that they found each other, that the war is the thing that brought them together, even as it tore some families apart. The sense of belonging she feels when she's with him is so strong, it seems impossible that they haven't known each other all their lives.

I should tell him that, she thinks as she fiddles with her hair, trying to look at least a little bit put together. He deserves to hear that.

She rejoins him in the corridor outside the restroom, and he stands tall with his hands behind his back, hat tucked under his arm. He looks like a war bonds poster.

"Ready." She says.

"Are you sure you're not too tired?"

"Of course not!"

She loops her arm through his, and watches his face brighten at her touch. It makes her heart soar, because she feels the same way whenever they're together.

Back home, she wasn't the type of girl to go out with any boy who asked. As she got older, she was so wrapped up in her education that she worried she might have missed out on the one -- even if it wasn't guaranteed that she'd meet the love of her life in school, she didn't want to miss out on having fun and dating and making new friends.

She had hermit tendencies and she knew it, but she enjoyed her own company, and besides, most men she met in college thought her ambition was too offputting. They didn't want to date a woman who had ambitions besides becoming a wife. She didn't bother with those types of men for too long, but it became harder and harder to find someone who appreciated her company, and didn't pressure her into being someone she wasn't.

It's why she joined the Nurse Corps and why she left for England at the first opportunity. It's why, she suspects, she feels so comfortable with Robert Rosenthal, even though they've only known each other for a few months.

The pub is bustling with airmen and townsfolk alike, and they have to wait a little while to find a table. Someone offers theirs up for them, and Rosie is so embarrassed by it that Grace has to step in and tell them thank you, but she and her Major can wait like everyone else.

It amuses her to watch him struggle to accept that rank indeed have its privileges sometimes, even if he would never dream of abusing it.

"Major Rosenthal, Captain Fleming... there's a booth just opened up," a passing waitress tells them.

They settle in, and Grace's stomach rumbles. "I've hardly eaten a thing all day." She says.

Rosie frowns at her. "You're not getting enough breaks."

She shrugs. "There was no time this week. You saw the condition of those forts when they came back."

His expression turns solemn. "Yeah. How many..."

She shakes her head. "It's not for you to worry about. Not right now."

He takes her hand again across the table, and they decide to split the fish and chips. A soda for both of them land on the table next, and Rosie watches, chin resting in his free hand as he smiles at her.

"What?" Grace asks, self conscious.

"Nothing. Just, you're doing a bad job convincing me you're not tired. The nonstop yawning isn't really selling your argument, Miss Fleming."

"That's Captain Fleming to you." She says haughtily, "and I'm not tired. Not really. It's just been a long day. But I'm happy to be here. Happy to see you."

Rosie nods in satisfaction both at her words and at the steaming plates that are placed in front of them. The smell of the fried food has Grace's stomach rumbling again, and he lets go of her hand so they can both dig in.

"What about you?" She asks. "How was your day?"

"Busy." He says. "The Colonel wants me to lead the training runs with the new crews."

She frowns. "Do we have the time to spare for training runs?"

He shakes his head. "Not really, but it's better than throwing them in the thick of it on their first time up and having them come back like the crews two days ago did."

She chews slowly, thinking of the flurry of activity that had kicked off in the late afternoon a few days before. Lots of burn wounds, shrapnel wounds, and broken bones. Some of the boys barely old enough to shave, let alone go up in one mission only to be told they might never fly again.

It felt hopeless, at times. She tries her hardest not to let those thoughts get to her, but sometimes it's a lost cause. It just seems like such a waste as the war drags on and on.

"We got a letter from Cleven today." Rosie tells her. Grace's expression lifts at this news.

"No kidding."

"It's weeks old. Probably not the first time they tried to write to us, but everything is so censored if they get any mail out at all. He wrote to Crosby."

"Are they okay?"

"You know Buck." Rosie says, which makes Grace smile, because he himself had only known Buck for a handful of days before he went down. "He wouldn't say if any of them were in a bad way. He's there with Egan and DeMarco and the rest."

"At least they're together," Grace muses. "They'll look after each other."

She can't fathom those men who seemed so invincible there in a stalag. It seems impossible. She has to fight off anxious thoughts of Rosie ending up in a place like that. She knows he's the best flyer they've got. The fact that he makes it back as often as he does is pure skill, nothing to do with luck. Still though, she prays every night that he'll keep coming back, because she has no idea what she'd do if he didn't make it. She can't even think about it.

Rosie has been watching her with a strange look on his face for a few minutes, and she meets his eyes. Something shifts between them, and she feels her throat go tight.

"I want to make sure you'll be okay, if I go down." He says. His tone is rough with emotion, but firm and confident.

"Rosie. What do you-- I wouldn't be okay!"

"Not just emotionally." Grace blinks, tears filling her eyes. Rosie swallows hard. "I want you to be taken care of, in every way. I want to know that you won't be... that you won't have to rebuild your life completely." He shakes his head, a laugh escaping against his will. "I am not going to do this in the pub." He says to himself.

"Do what?" Grace nearly screeches.

He takes her hand, tugging her out of her side of the booth. He signals to the waitress that they'll be back, and he pulls her around the corner of the building where they're away from prying eyes.

"Rosie!" She says, trying to get him to slow down, but now that the thought has entered his mind, he has got to get the words out. Before he loses his nerve.

He had a whole plan for this. The plan was to get them both some leave in London, to find a nice restaurant, to have a ring and get down on one knee... the whole nine yards.

But if he had to watch that look on her face for one more second, if he had to watch her try to put herself in the place of any of the girls who were waiting on someone to come back from a camp, or someone who knew their sweetheart wouldn't come back at all... he couldn't stand it.

If he could do one thing, one thing to make sure she was secure in the aftermath, whatever that might be, it was this.

"Marry me." The words burst forth. They're rushed and they're almost too loud, and it's not the way he planned any of this.

She stares.

He panics.

"I want to make sure you're taken care of. Whatever that means. Financially, yes. But also... life is so short. Nothing is guaranteed. I don't know what tomorrow is going to bring, but I know that I want to spend it with you. I want to spend every single day with you. I want you to be my wife. Not just because I could go down any time, but because I just want to, because I love you."

Grace is speechless. She is crying before she can stop herself, because she hates crying. "I love you too," she says, her voice wobbly.

"That's good," he says, grinning. He looks a little wobbly himself.

"Are you sure?" She asks. She steps closer. "Are you sure you want to-- it's so permanent, and I'd marry you back inside that pub right now if you're sure. But I want you to be sure. I don't want you to tie yourself to me--"

"Tie myself?!" His hand finds the side of her face, cupping it gently. "I would never think of it that way." He smiles at her. "It would be an absolute honor to consider myself Mr. Captain Fleming, Grace."

"You're ridiculous." She chokes. "You're going to break a lot of girl's hearts around here, Rosie."

"We don't have to do anything right away. I'll wait as long as you want."

"Yes."

It's his turn to blink, looking a little shy. "Really?"

She smacks his chest. "Yes, really! Honestly, Rosie, you asked, you really think I'd say anything but--"

He kisses her. It's a hard, desperate thing. "Mrs. Rosenthal." He whispers when he pulls back, eyes sparkling.

"That's Captain Mrs. Rosenthal, to you."

#apologies for being so late to this - busy busy busy recently #so this was a TREAT to see this morning!!!!#<3 #FIRST OFF - grace!!!!!#i feel so SEEN by her #like i get her SO MUCH I GET HERRR!!! (the hermit tendencies girl me too lmao)#grace is such a well-rounded character + her thought processes and mindset are incredibly realistic to people that i feel can be more #introverted or likely to keep to themselves so I LOVE IT #also LOVE her sort of internal monologue vibe here? like the whole 'i should tell rosie this' how she feels that sense of 'belonging' ?!?!?#catch me out here CRYINGGG #still stuck on the 'i should tell rosie this because he deserves to hear it' vibes like OH MY GODDDDDD #rosie's (somewhat impulsive and so so valid) marry me like - SIR ANYONE AND EVERYONE WOULD LOVE TO PLZ KNOW THAT #oh grace u lucky woman #i love rosie's characterization here too like IT'S SO HIM!!!!#(so real for thinking about rosie rosenthal all day like ....so so real)#this was SUCH a good read and they are absolutely adorable together and match each other's vibes so so well GAHHHHHHH. THEM!!!!!#okay i promise i'm fine and controlled now lmfao don't mind meeee #this was LOVELY!!! thank you so so much!!!#masters of the air #mota #grace fleming #rosie rosenthal #them!

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nereidprinc3ss · 1 year ago

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baby fever

in which reader and spencer discuss having a baby while at work

fluff warnings/tags: fem/AFAB!reader, bau!reader, BOYFRIEND!SPENCER or husband if u so desire, discussions of pregnancy/having a baby (obviously), reader wants a baby, so does spencer a/n: god i need him so badly. should i write follow up smut?? mwahaha evil emoji......

The coffee finished brewing minutes ago, but you’re still standing by the pot, watching Anderson’s daughter toddling around the bullpen on chubby legs. She’s not very adept at walking, but her spirit is indomitable—every time she tips a little too far forward, she catches herself and gets right back up. It’s not like she’s doing anything particularly impressive or even interesting, but you can’t take your eyes off her. Every movement makes your heart twinge, every giggle or curious quirk of her head is so adorable it physically hurts in your chest.

From your peripheral vision you see Spencer approaching, bearing his own empty mug, but not even he can draw your attention away from the adorable little pixie and her tutu and her pigtails.

“That is the cutest kid I have ever seen in my life,” you whisper to Spencer, hoping the quiet tone of your voice will help hide how much you feel like cooing and squealing.

He smiles to himself as he pours his coffee.

“That’s Rosie. Have you said hi yet?”

“I’m afraid if I talk to her I’ll try to keep her.”

“She is pretty adorable.”

You turn to him as he leans next to you on the counter, sipping his coffee casually.

“Adorable? Spencer. Puppies are adorable. You’re not understanding the magnitude of what I mean right now. I can’t explain to you how much adorable doesn’t cut it. I’m not kidding about the child abduction thing.”

HIs eyes slide around the room as he chuckles into his mug.

“Let’s maybe not joke about kidnapping a child in FBI headquarters.”

“I’m not joking,” you hiss. “I feel like I’m going insane. I just—”

At the last second you stop yourself, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

“You just what?” Spencer asks, adjusting the hem of your shirt with his free hand. You glance down, watching the care he takes in the tiniest detail that you wouldn’t have given a second thought to.

“Is something wrong with my shirt?”

His eyes flick up to yours, hazel tinted with mild surprise.

“No. It just was sliding up your waist a little bit.” As he says it, his knuckles brush the bare skin of your torso. You suppress a shiver, studying his profile once he pulls his hand away and goes for another sip.

“Can we have one?”

Your inopportune timing results in coffee dribbling down Spencer’s chin as he quickly attempts to wipe it away, wide eyes torn between you and trying to assess the mess he’s made.

“You--you mean like a baby?”

“Yeah, like a baby,” you say, grabbing his shoulders and squaring them to you before dabbing the coffee from his face and jacket. He watches on as you clean him up, completely still except for his wandering eyes.

“I thought we were waiting on that.”

“Waiting for what? A better time? There’s never going to be a good time with this job. And it’s not like we’d have to quit. Look at JJ. She has two and still does it.”

“First of all,” Spencer begins, quickly recovering from your surprise proposition, “I don’t love the idea of either of us being in the field with you pregnant. And secondly, JJ also has Will and her mother to take care of the boys. We don’t have that. We’re both here all the time.”

“I don’t care,” you groan, trashing the paper towels once you’ve done the best you can with his clothing. “We’d figure it out somehow!”

“Mhm. It sounds like you’ve really devoted some careful consideration to this.”

You drop your head to your shoulder, giving him your best puppy dog eyes and pulling lightly on his shirtsleeve.

“Oh, come on. You haven’t thought about it at all? My perfect brain and your pretty face fusing to create a future Nobel-prize winner? Imagine how cute she would be, Spencer, we could put her hair in little braids and pigtails and we could dress her up and she could be in soccer and ballet and—”

“She?” he smiles, studying your face intently. You roll your eyes.

“Yes, she. Obviously we would have a girl. You—”

The idea of Spencer as the father of your daughter hits you like a tidal wave, stopping you dead in your tracks. The images materialize in your mind’s eye so clearly, it’s like they’re already memories, so real and tangible you have no doubt it must come to fruition someday. But if before, your ranting was mostly a silly fantasy—now it’s become a bit more intense.

He seems to sense your shift in mood. The big smile thaws slightly as he subtly grabs your hand on the counter.

“What? What’s wrong?”

There he goes again. Being kind. Being perfect.

Tears sting your eyes, but you don’t let them fall.

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong. I just... didn’t realize how badly I actually wanted that until I said it out loud.”

The concern in his eyes softens to pure affection as he runs his thumb over the back of your hand.

“I want it too. And whenever you decide you’re ready I’ll drop everything for you.”

His words are like compounding pressure to the deep heat within you—forming something so solid and perfect you don’t have to wonder if it’s real. A ten on the Mohs scale, a concept that gets closer to actualizing by the minute.

Your voice is quiet, revelatory as you admire the amber facets in his eyes.

“You’re ready?”

“I’ve been ready for quite some time,” he admits. And at once you feel the certainty of him paint your past and your future with one broad brushstroke. One day you will look back on your life and remember the time before Spencer, and that will be it. There is before Spencer, and with Spencer, but never an after Spencer. He wants to create something utterly permanent with you. “Come here.”

He sets his mug down, carefully pulling you forward so you’re toe to toe with your back to the rest of the BAU; so that only he can see you. Despite how good the two of you are at avoiding PDA, occasionally an exception is made. He tenderly wipes away the few tears that have sprung from your waterline and accepts your arms around his waist, mirroring your embrace and completely enveloping you.

“I love you,” he murmurs against the top of your hair, quiet enough that nobody in the office has a chance of hearing it. You sniffle.

“I love you too. Also you smell really good.”

He chuckles, hand roaming up and down your back for a moment.

“And that is why we are holding off on this at least for a while.”

“What do you mean?” you whisper indignantly as he gently peels you off him. His hands remain a steadying force on your waist as he smiles down at you beatifically.

“I mean let’s give it two weeks and see if you still want a baby when you’re not ovulating.”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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shoyoist · 1 year ago

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── 𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 : hinata shoyo.

content: fem!reader. public sεx in the back booth of a cafe. dirty thoughts, teasing, fingering, a little overstimulation, shoyo is a liiittle mean but he's just so eager to have you!! mentioned pussy eating at the end.

— . ｡˚ ♡ you just can't wait to have shoyo's fingers in you. and neither can he.

one of the first things you notice about hinata when you meet up with him after his years away in brazil, is that his hands are big.

he'd already been growing taller and filling out when he left — but that was nearly three years ago, and seeing him for the first time after so long felt like a dream — because despite looking the same, he also looked just that different. it wasn't just his hands, really — he was big.

his neck was thicker, the expanse between his shoulder and neck offering much more space for your arms than it used to, as you wrapped them around his neck in a hug. his arms, his chest, his stomach, as they press against yours in the embrace, they feel bigger, more muscular than you remembered.

but what you notice the most, what would be a subtle change compared to everything else — is that his hands are so big. maybe because you hadn't seen his hands properly in any of the pictures he'd sent you, but it was the most surprising change about him.

his fingers that just used to be long and lithe, are now thicker — knuckles tough and edges calloused, the backs of them rosy and tanned and the palms hard and smooth, pink at the rounder points.

and as he holds your hands in his, gives you a smile that pours love and longing and happiness and tender adoration into you as he tells you, “hi, baby. i missed you.” — all you can think about is that you want your pussy stuffed with those fingers of his.

and eventually — because he is after all, your beloved shoyo that would do anything for you — you tell him.

hand in hand, walking the distance from your place to the café you used to frequent together, you tell him that his hands are so nice.

his fingers are so thick (“look! see how big they are compared to mine?”) and then while you're talking to each other over cups of coffee, you finally tell him — albeit slyly and mostly as a tease, you admit that you want his fingers in your cunt.

what you don't expect is for him to immediately oblige.

you're sitting together at the very last booth of the small, cozy little cafe, away from all the windows and concealed from clear view — and you'd thought it'd be cute to fluster him with a dirty little comment, and get him hooked for when you both get home.

but when you tell him, “they'd feel so nice curling deep into my pussy, don't you think?” hinata stares at you for only a few seconds — before he has you pressed against the back of the booth, one legged hooked over his knees and the other dangling over the edge of the seat as he forces your legs open.

“mhm,” he giggles at your wide eyed, stunned expression, wrapping a muscled arm around you and adjusting your position so effortlessly, as his other hand slides past the waistband of your skirt to palm at your clothed cunt. “let's see how it feels, then. oh — pretty pussy's wet already, huh? missed me much?”

you're too dazed by the contact and the delicious feel of his touch on your clit to form words and tell him yes, yes yes you missed him so fucking much, more than he knows — but you think you missed him more than even you know.

his eyes are brighter than you remember as well, you see as you blink up to meet his gaze—

his body language, his confidence, it's so different compared to how he was before.

you'd only gotten together in your third year of highschool, and really you'd only fucked once before he left for brazil — but you'd loved him long enough to know.

this isn't the same hinata that you kissed good-bye at that train station years ago.

correction: he is the same — but he's also more.

you stare, stars in your eyes — and he gives you a handsome, rogueish grin as he slips two digits under your panties and into the slick mess of your hole, like he knows every single thing he's doing to you right now.

to your body, to your mind, to your soul.

it's overwhelming enough, to have the love of your life return home to you after more than two years of being so, so far away from you.

overwhelming enough to see that he has changed so very much, to see that suddenly the sunny, sweet boy you'd fallen in love with has become a fire, a hot searing flame that's ready to sweep you off your feet and singe you, burn you with his kisses and his touch.

but right now, you can't even think clearly about it all — because fuck, fuck, fuck, he's sliding his fingers into you, and it feels even better than you thought it would.

“sh—shoyo,” you whimper, cheek pressed to his chest as he shields your body with his, just in case. “wait, wait — didn't mean right now, i—”

“hush,” he hums into your ear, thumb gliding up to find your clit, and when he presses into the sensitive bud, you can only obey and hush — pressing your lips shut tight to prevent the gasp of pleasure that builds in your throat from getting away.

the café had been pretty quiet and peaceful when you'd both walked inside, and even as you ordered from the counter and brought your trays to the back booth — but suddenly, you're so afraid that people might come and see. afraid that a waiter might come over and see.

“sho—” you try, but he shushes you again, and you feel so hot, it's all so sudden you can't think.

“couldn't wait, sunshine, 'm sorry.” he mumbles into your hair, pulling you even closer, and you feel a little cramped as he tugs your legs even further apart, fingers sliding knuckle-deep into you. “was thinking things the whole time, you're so gorgeous now, can't wait when you're so hot.”

“i—” you whimper again, grabbing his shirt and curling it in your fist. “me too, shoyo, me too.” there's an impatience in the both of you that was hardly satiable when kept apart from eachother, but now, with the two of you like this, there's no way to keep it at bay.

the stretch of his fingers in your cunt is impossible. so much compared to your own fingers, so hot and hungry compared to the toys you use (ones he'd bought and sent home to you during his time in brazil).

he fucks his digits into you like he's been dying to do this to you, like he's desperate to hear those pretty sounds you make in his ear again, like he's been thirsting to make you cum like this forever.

you're going to hit your orgasm so quick, you can already feel it.

you're going to cum slumped in the back booth of this little café, that you'd visited so long ago on your first date with hinata. this little café where you'd first kissed him. this little café where you'd had a valentine's day brunch with him, just two months before he left.

“shoyo,” you can't help the moan that slips out, pussy only clenching around harder his digits when you see the way his eyes cloud with lust upon hearing your voice. “shoyo, shoyo — gonna cum.”

you hope nobody hears you — and you hope that if they did, they'll stay the fuck away and mind their own business, and let hinata take care of you.

you need it. he's so warm, so hot, and he's fucking you so good with just his fingers — thumb rolling your clit just fucking right while he curls his fingers into your velvet walls, giggling under his breath when your pussy squelches messily each time.

“that's right, baby,” he coos, kissing your hair. “cum for me. nice and hard, mkay? else we might hafta try again.”

his voice cracks so well at just the right moment as he says it — and you don't know if it's the zap of need that courses through you at the sound of his voice breaking, or if it's just the bliss he's giving you with his fingers that makes you cum instantly, but you do.

your pussy wraps around his fingers so tight — your own hand flying up to clamp over your mouth and muffle your cry, as your body finally unfreezes and you crash into your high.

knees knocking together and squeezing hinata's arm between your legs, you fall lax against the leather seating of the booth — cushioned by his body because he still has his other arm secured around you — and you cum. “fuck, shoyo.”

“that's good,” hinata encourages, his whisper hot in the shell of your ear. “fuck, so messy. so messy, baby, how do we clean you up?”

you can't help it — and he's making it worse, curling his fingers in, knuckles digging into your walls as he tries to go even deeper, never relieving the pressure he's out on your clit, god— “shoyo, fuck, fuck.” you’re afraid you might shatter into a million pieces right there on the damn seat. you haven’t had someone else touch you in a long time, and getting an orgasm ripped from you like this is almost too much. “sho—shoyo, please.”

“please, what?” he giggles, still unrelenting, like he’s missed having you like this, like he really can’t be a good boy and wait until you get back home before he eats you up and makes you his girl all over again, for the first time in years.

“not here,” you say breathlessly, gulping down the cry of pleasure that springs up your throat when he lets go of your clit for a moment, only to flick his thumb at the ravenous bud again. “not here, please. i can’t—”

“can’t what?” he asks, almost impatient. he bites at your ear, and you feel so fucking hot, so dizzy with pleasure, but you can’t. not in the back booth of a god damn café, where you could just be caught with MSbY’s newest outside hitter fitting his fingers into your starving little cunt.

you grab his wrist and tug, giving him the most serious look you can with all the stars in your eyes. “can’t be like this, shoyo. not here. please? wanna go home. want you in me. at home.”

his lips pull downwards into a disappointed pout, but he only presses his body closer to you, hot and heavy, his weight so new on you. “you promise t’ let me fuck you like this in your bed then?”

the fact that he can make you blush harder with a few words even as he’s got your pussy full of his fingers is astounding, really. but you feel your face heat up as you nod, telling him you promise. you need it more than him. you need him so, so fucking bad.

with a delighted laugh, shoyo pulls away, almost too quickly and you’re forced to stifle the needy whine you want to let out because you know he’ll be on you again in no time if you act like that. he pops his fingers into his mouth, sucking on your slick, eyes dulling with lust as he gets a taste of you. “let’s go, then. we can have this date later.”

“wh—what about our food?” you can’t even ask before he’s getting up and pulling you to your feet. he gives you a quick kiss, and your eyes widen when you taste yourself on him. god, it’s almost embarrassing.

“i’ll pay for it now, we’ll tell them we’re coming back in a bit.” he grins at you, taking you by the waist and pulling you up against him. “i can think of something else i’d like to eat right now.”

by the glint in his eyes and the lingering taste in your mouth, you know exactly what he means the instant he says it. and you can’t help but blush again. god, he’s such a fucking charmer. “mm, alright. let’s go then.”

“that’s my girl.”

#₊˚ପ⊹ REKHA™.#₊˚ପ⊹ NYCHTA.#hinata smut #haikyuu smut #hinata shoyo smut #hinata x reader #haikyuu x reader #hinata shoyo x reader #hq smut #haikyuu!! smut #hinata headcanons #hinata drabbles #hinata shouyou smut #haikyu x reader #haikyu smut #hq x you #haikyuu x you #hinata x you

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choerrypuffs · 1 month ago

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AITA for setting my cheating ex's car on fire? (and then falling for his cousin)

pairing: firefighter!haechan x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 8.6k

synopsis: revenge is best served cold―or on fire. literally.

author’s note: luvpuffcore is finally back!! ilysm cat and moon and thank you for another amazing year of friendship <333 i truly am the #1 most successful fan of all time 🤩 also special shoutout to cat for letting me use some of her creepy dms and moon for sharing her league knowledge yall are god's strongest soldiers fr !! happy new year, my loves ✨🎆💞

warning(s): mentions/threats of violence, sexual jokes, y/n commits arson but in a girly pop way (pls don't try this at home), character assassination of mark

playlist: get him back! by olivia rodrigo ― is it new years yet? sabrina carpenter �� drinks or coffee by rosé ― risk by gracie abrams ― mastermind by taylor swift

additional: check out a nonsense christmas: reddit edition collab!

r/AmITheAsshole

u/justgirlythings-arson119 • 3d

AITA for setting my cheating ex’s car on fire? (and then falling for his cousin)

I (24F) caught my boyfriend cheating on me with a discord kitten he met on League of Legends two days before our anniversary. I proceeded to have the biggest crash out ever known to man, bought a gallon of gasoline, went to his house in the middle of the night, and lit his car on fire. I had completely forgotten his cousin was a firefighter in the area, and he showed up at the scene, which hindered my masterful plan a little bit. Luckily, my ex didn’t press any charges though because no way in hell he’s going to admit he has a discord kitten in a court of law. Anyways, the next day, my ex groveled and begged me to go to his family’s Christmas party with him so that he could save face in front of his mommy. Long story short―let’s just say it didn’t go well. His cousin ended up driving me home, and I think maybe I’ve fallen for him?

⥣ 9.8k ⥥ 1,439 Comments

mcballs-im-lovin-it0323 • 2d YTA for not crashing out even harder bc i woulda slept with his entire bloodline if he played in my face like that 🙂‍↕️

➥ Reply ⥣ 2.8k ⥥

picklepounder1010 • 1d would’ve had him calling me mama, papa, auntie, uncle, grandma, grandpa etc fr 😩 ➥ ⥣ 943 ⥥

god-of-donuts0423 • 1d YTA for dating a lol player

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goonknight1027 • 5h no way this post is about that twink lol streamer ➥ ⥣ 629 ⥥

part one | oh, i wanna key his car…or light it ablaze?

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:03 PM heyyy u play lol too 😂

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:05 PM im a yasuo main 😂

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:10 PMwhat kinda asian are u

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:10 PMwhatchu look like

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:10 PMsorry was that too much 😂😂😂

Your best friend, Rosie, has to put your phone down and take a few deep breaths. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

“Keep going. You haven’t even seen the worst of it,” you respond through a mouthful of strawberry ice cream, completely deadpan.

onyourmark 12/7/2024 6:21 AM ahh 😂😂

onyourmark 12/7/2024 6:22 PM *kisses you*

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:39 PM can i tell U something weird :3 😂

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:40 PM[Audio Message]

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:39 PMi wrote this rap about my feelings for y baby girl

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:39 PMbecause uve been such a good gril for me

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:57 PM holy fck holy dcking fck that body of urs is absurd

Rosie covers her mouth with her hand, closing her eyes in a grimace. “No way he copied Adam Levine unironically.”

“Keep going.”

onyourmark Yesterday at 1:20 AMwhen can i see u

onyourmark Yesterday at 1:20 AM ill be free after christmas

onyourmark Yesterday at 1:20 AM after annyign fam stuff 😂😂😂

Every message Rosie reads feels like another sucker punch in your gut and your ego, but you just dig your spoon into the tub of ice cream with even more force and let her keep going. Every time you blink, you feel dried up mascara flaking off your eyelashes and getting stuck in the dried tears and snot on your cheeks.

“‘Annoying fam stuff?’ Is he talking about your anniversary?” Rosie demands.

Yes, your anniversary with your now ex-boyfriend, Mark Lee, is on Christmas. You used to think it was romantic. What a goddamn idiot you were.

“At least he called me family,” you reply wryly, a hysterical laugh rattling in your chest like a wet cough.

Rosie shakes her head and hands your phone back to you. “I can’t read any more of this. I’m going to be sick. I thought Discord mods and Discord kittens were just memes. I can’t believe people like him actually exist.”

You just shrug.

“Where the hell is he now?” She crosses her arms.

“Probably at his parents’ house. They’re on a ski trip, and they won’t be back until tomorrow,” you sigh, getting a headache thinking about how you were going to explain this to Mark’s parents.

“Good. Change the locks on your door before he tries to come crawling back. He’s done mooching off you,” Rosie huffs.

“You were right,” you state matter-of-factly, “That he was just a jobless bum loser who’s a momma’s boy.”

She looks guilty, leaning over and giving you a hug. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You think about the time you first met Mark, when the two of you were just starry-eyed freshmen in college together. He was so awkward and shy that it took almost an entire semester for him to finally look you in the eye. He followed you around like a sad puppy and would get flustered at any prolonged amount of attention you gave him. After about three years of him being hopelessly in love with you and unable to work up the courage to ask you out, you finally decided to give him a chance in your final year of college. It was a white Christmas, and you remember his trembling hands holding your face, freezing cold fingertips brushing your cheeks, and how red his nose was when he leaned in to kiss you. He looked at you as if you were a goddess that was put on this Earth purely for him to worship.

Maybe that’s why you moved in together with him when the two of you graduated, even when he was unemployed and you supported him financially. Maybe that’s why you smiled and nodded when he told you he wanted to try being a Twitch streamer. Maybe that’s why you gifted him his first microphone for his setup, or baked him a cake when he finally got his first viewer (even though it was actually a secret account that you made in order to boost his confidence). Maybe that’s why you never complained when he started skipping out on dates (sometimes even your birthday) in favor of growing his audience, or when he bought you extravagant gifts like jewelry or designer clothes without any clue of your preference or size. Maybe that’s why you chose to ignore the churning feeling in the pit of your stomach when you noticed his eyes starting to drift towards anything but you.

Maybe you were always the one who worshipped him.

It’s almost comical how easily almost a decade of your life has gone down the drain―and all it took was a couple of laughing emojis. In the end, the one who loves more is always the one who loses the most.

You gave up your best years to Mark Lee, and yet you seemed to have run out of tears to cry for this man.

Instead, all you have left now is pure, unbridled rage boiling inside of you. It’s the kind of anger that needs to simmer first―the kind that manifests first as a calm indifference before it finally bubbles over into a complete meltdown. But you’ll be damned before you set fire to your mental health and personal belongings that you worked tooth and nail for over a man who ruined your life.

So, you’ve decided to set fire to something else.

“Rosie,” you say softly, your voice chillingly serene. “I’m going to set his car on fire.”

Rosie laughs. “Want me to be your getaway driver?”

“No, I wouldn’t want to implicate you,” you respond smoothly. “Besides, I want him to know that I’m the one who did it.”

She looks at you for a moment, trying to decide if you’re joking or not. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes. I don’t have the energy to care about him anymore,” you answer―only a half lie. “You should go now. I know you have a late shift tonight.”

Rosie gives you another tight squeeze. “Call me if you need anything, okay? I’m off this weekend, so we should go get drunk off our asses.”

After she leaves, you slowly get up and make your way to the bathroom. You wash your face in the sink, scrubbing on the gunk off, and apply a fresh layer of makeup. If you’re going to do this, you’re going to make sure you look hot as hell (pun intended). Once you’re done, you make your way to the nearest gas station and purchase a gallon of gasoline before promptly driving to Mark’s parent’s house.

By the time you get there, it’s already close to midnight, and not even the darkness can shroud Mark’s new Tesla Cybertruck. You remember when he bought it because you had to pay for half of his rent for the month because he was saving up for it―the smug grin on his face, as he announced it to his Twitch chat. You’re embarrassed at how happy you were for him, and you didn’t even have the heart to tell him how hideous you found it. The truck’s mirrored exterior reflects the moon in the starless night sky, and the full moon almost looks like a shiny, pretty bullseye calling out for you to destroy it.

Without hesitation, you get out of your car and immediately start dumping gasoline all over and around the car. The scent of gasoline normally makes you nauseous, but the scent of revenge smells even sweeter. Before you take out your lighter, you pick up a large piece of broken concrete from his driveway. With all of the strength you can muster, you hurl the concrete into the driver side window of the truck and watch your reflection shatter along with the glass.

The car alarm starts blaring, and you wait for the light in Mark’s room to blink on. You see his silhouette as he opens his blinds and peers out, just to lock eyes with you. He gawks at you like he’s just seen a ghost, and it doesn’t take long for him to make his way down to you. As he stumbles down the driveway, you take out your lighter and flick it on, letting it slowly slip from your fingertips. Your heart swells with a hysterical sense of glee as his eyes widen, the orange flames reflecting in his teary eyes. His Cybertruck is set ablaze with a Hollywood-esque level of perfection, and the fire gives your face a golden glow as if you were the starring actress.

“Y/N! Are you fucking crazy?” Mark hollers over the crackle of the flames, voice breaking.

“Oh, you bet I fucking am,” you laugh.

“I’m gonna sue you―you bitch! Have you thrown in jail!” he screams, fishing his phone out of his pocket and punching in 911 on the keypad. “I’m calling the cops right now!”

“Do it, you spineless piece of shit! I’m going to make sure everyone in this damn neighborhood and on the internet knows what a lying, cheating, soul-sucking little leech you are!” you yell back at him. “I’m going to ruin your fucking career first and then happily walk my ass down to the police station.”

That makes Mark stop in his tracks, his thumb hovering over the dial button. He can’t control the fear on his face. “No one is gonna believe you.”

“Aw, you sure no one will believe me when I show everyone the screenshots of your DMs with uwukittenbb69?” you taunt.

“I’ll say they’re fake!” he nearly screeches.

“Let’s fucking go then! My word against yours. We’ll see who they believe,” you challenge.

Mark falters and takes a small step forward. “W-Wait…”

Unfortunately for him, he’s interrupted by the squealing sirens of a firetruck pulling up to the street. You and Mark exchange glances, and you silently dare him to report you, before both of you turn towards the firefighters exiting the truck.

“Mark…and Y/N?”

Your eyes widen at the sound of the approaching firefighter’s voice. You watch in horror as the firefighter removes his helmet, and you get a clearer look at his face. Tufts of wavy caramel-colored hair sticking out, a youthful and angelic face that doesn’t suit his occupation, and heart-shaped lips turned downwards in concern―it’s Mark’s cousin, Donghyuck. You’ve met him a decent amount of times at family gatherings, and he sometimes drops by you and Mark’s apartment to deliver homemade food from his mom. Donghyuck has always been kind to you, and you didn’t want him to see you like this.

Donghyuck’s confusion is short-lived before his attention falls back to the fire and how close you are to it. He quickly grabs your arm and pulls you away from the burning truck.

“Be careful. Are you hurt?” he asks carefully, eyes scanning your face with precision. “And why aren’t you wearing a jacket? It’s freezing out here.”

You open your mouth to try and fumble out an answer, but you flinch at the sound of Donghyuck’s colleagues blasting Mark’s car with water from the firetruck’s power hose. All that’s left of the Cybertruck is a deformed and blackened pile of scrap metal with a plume of smoke rising from it. You can’t help the sense of satisfaction you feel.

“Don’t breathe in the smoke. It’s not good for you,” Donghyuck urges, gently sticking an arm in front of you and gesturing for you to step back even further. “Come with me. There’s blankets in the back of the truck.”

“I’m fine,” you finally manage to say, shaking your head. “I’m not cold.”

It’s true; the fire you set has been more than enough to make your insides feel all warm and fuzzy. He doesn’t look like he believes you but doesn’t try to push any further.

“Okay, so what the hell happened here? We got a call from the neighbors saying there was a blazing ball on fire in Mark’s driveway and that the two of you were in a screaming match.”

“Ask Mark,” is all you say.

Donghyuck raises an eyebrow.

“It was an accident.”

As if on cue, Mark suddenly materializes next to you and Donghyuck―a restless expression on his face. He probably thought you were telling Donghyuck what he did to you and rushed over.

“What?” Donghyuck’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. “You’re saying that was an accident?”

“Yeah. I was just…messing around. Don’t worry about it. It was an accident,” Mark says through gritted teeth, sounding completely defeated.

The corners of your mouth twitch when you chime in, “A senseless accident.”

Donghyuck is completely speechless as he glances between the two of you. However, you look past him and watch the fireworks exploding in the dark sky. Pulling out your phone, you see that it’s midnight, meaning it’s officially the 25th of December. Glancing over at Mark, you see him trembling in the cold with a sniffly red nose and bloodshot eyes. He’s staring straight at the ground, fists clenched.

You smile.

part two | part two | wanna push him in the fireplace and watch him burn!

When you finally get home that night, you draw yourself a steaming hot bubble bath and even use the fancy bath bomb that Rosie bought you. After you get dressed, you make a charcuterie board and pour yourself a glass of wine as well before falling asleep to a Hallmark movie playing on your television. It’s probably the best sleep you’ve gotten over the past month.

You wake up in the morning feeling refreshed, a certain five-foot-nine burden lifted from your shoulders, and text all of your friends and family your holiday greetings. Rosie invited you out to her family gathering because she didn’t want you to be alone on Christmas, but you declined. You decided to stay home and get some cleaning done. Of course, by cleaning, you mean boxing up all of Mark’s stuff and donating it to Goodwill. You initially wanted to burn everything, but you’ve committed enough arson already.

Just as you’re getting ready to make a hearty breakfast in preparation for the mass Mark exodus, you hear the door to your apartment being opened, and your blood runs cold when you realize you haven’t changed the lock. Then your cold blood begins to boil at the audacity that Mark still must have in his pathetic little body to even dream of stepping foot in your home.

Gripping your frying pan tightly, you march out of the kitchen to greet him. Mark at least has the sense to shrivel back when he sees you approach him. To your delight, he looks absolutely terrible. It’s obvious he didn’t get any sleep nor did he feel the need to change out of his pajamas.

“I know you’re mad,” he says quickly, holding his hands out as if ready to block a punch.

“If you actually knew that, you wouldn’t have stepped foot in my apartment,” you say nonchalantly. “You have ten seconds to give my key back to me and get the hell out before you have to call the cops again.”

“Chill, chill,” he mutters, “I’m just here for my stuff―”

“Don’t tell me to chill. I’ve always hated it when you tell me that. It makes you sound like a patronizing douchebag, which you are, of course,” you snap. “You’re insane if you think I’m going to let you just waltz in here and casually get your stuff. Most of which I paid for, by the way.”

“Y/N, come on,” he sighs. “at least let me get my PC setup.”

That makes you burst out laughing. “Holy shit. You really have the gall to ask me for your PC setup? Are you on actual crack? Get the fuck out!”

“Okay, okay, okay. I’m sorry, okay? Just one more thing―”

“Don’t make me swear to Jesus on his birthday―”

“My mom wants you to come to the Christmas party this afternoon,” he blurts out, squeezing his eyes shut. “I…haven’t told her yet. I wanted us to tell her, um, together, after the party.”

He doesn’t need to say it for you to understand what he’s implying. He wants to make it seem like the breakup was mutual to save his reputation and because he knows his mom will lose her mind. He’s pretended to be her perfect little boy his entire life, a momma’s boy to the very core, so he can’t ever let her know what a bottomfeeder he is.

“Is this some sort of social experiment to see how far you can push my limits before I finally snap? Again?” you ask incredulously.

“Please, Y/N. I’ll do anything. I won’t ask for my stuff anymore. I won’t tell anyone about the car thing. I promise you that you won’t ever see me again if you do me this favor,” Mark sputters.

You hate that you still hesitate, despite how much you’re disgusted by him. It makes you feel like you haven’t completely axed the part of you that was in love with him, and that sickens you. However, Mrs. Lee has always been like a second mother to you, and it doesn’t feel right to just cut her off without a proper goodbye just because her son is a cretin. You suppose this could be good closure for such an ill-fated relationship.

“You swear on your life that you’ll leave me alone forever after this?” you ask, crossing your arms.

Mark nods profusely.

“Fine. I’m only staying for an hour, and I don’t care if the party isn’t over yet. We’re going to tell her within that period or else,” you state.

“Thank you. Thank you so much, Y/N.” Mark opens his arms to hug you, and it takes every fiber in your being not to whack him across the head with your frying pan.

“Do not touch me,” you warn, “Now get out.”

To his credit, he promptly hightails it out of your apartment (perhaps he finally noticed the murderous glint in your eye). You almost immediately regret agreeing, but you tell yourself that today is the last day that you’ll ever have to deal with the likes of Mark Lee again. Putting a hold on cleaning, you get ready for the party instead, donning a cute holiday fit that you had prepared especially for today since it was supposed to be your anniversary. Now, it makes for a great revenge dress.

Mark had texted you to let you know to bring a gift since there would be a white elephant gift exchange, and half of you wants to call him and scream at him for not letting you know sooner and the other half is screaming at yourself for forgetting to block him. Not having enough time to go out and buy a gift, you decide to wrap up the scarf that you knitted for Mark. You stayed up all night after you got off work to make it for him, and it looks a bit wonky, but you thought he would appreciate it. You feel bad for whoever receives it, but there has to be a few duds in the mix or it’s not a true white elephant experience. Maybe they can use the scarf to wipe up their dog’s piss or something.

When you drive back to Mark’s parents’ house, it’s an ironic clash of atmospheres. The place is decked out with Christmas decorations, an amalgamation of rainbow lights, inflatable snowmen, and wreaths on every door and window. Yet, you can also see remnants of the dark burn marks in their driveway. Mark must have managed to call a tow to take his Cybertruck away just in the nick of time. You do wonder how he managed to explain the burn marks, though.

Taking in a deep breath, you hype yourself up in your car visor mirror before stepping out and walking to the front door. Before you can even knock, Mrs. Lee opens the door and envelops you in a bear hug. She smells like sugar cookies, and it occurs to you how much you’ll miss her.

“Oh, sweetie! I’m so glad you’re here,” she coos, cupping your face. She then ushers you into the living room, linking her arm through yours. “I was so worried because I thought the two of you got into a fight while we were on our trip.”

You just smile uncomfortably. “O-Oh.”

“A mother’s intuition is always right, you know,” she says, winking, “Plus, I knew something was off when Mark told us he’d be staying at our place for a couple nights. Poor boy was a mess, you know. He somehow managed to total his car in the driveway! Can you believe it? He really needs you around to whip him into shape!”

You hope she can’t see you holding in a laugh. As you’re walking, you scan the room for Mark, but he’s nowhere to be seen. It doesn’t surprise you one bit that you’re being treated as fodder so he can hide in his room.

“Anyways, say hi to everyone!” She leads you directly into a circle of Mark’s aunt and uncles. You give them all an awkward hello and try to slink away while they all converse, but one of Mark’s aunts turns towards you.

“So, how long have you and Mark been together, honey?” she asks.

“Um, about four years―”

“Oh, but they’ve known each other for much longer than that. Seven years! Mark had the biggest crush on her, you know,” Mrs. Lee interjects.

“My goodness, does that mean we’ll be hearing wedding bells soon?” Mark’s aunt teases. The rest of the circle oohs and ahhs, and you want to strangle yourself with a garland.

“I mean, what is he waiting for anyway? He’s making loads of money on the Internet now, isn’t he?” she continues.

“Exactly. I want grandchildren, you know,” Mrs. Lee huffs.

Unable to bite back your words anymore, you clear your throat loudly. “I have something I need to―”

“Oh, Y/N! I’ve been looking for you,” another voice chimes in.

All of you turn around, and a gasp nearly escapes you when you see Donghyuck standing in front of you. He’s in a white cable knit sweater, and his wavy hair looks so fluffy that you almost want to reach out and touch it. His cheeks are a bit flushed, probably because he’s in such thick clothing (or Mrs. Lee’s famous spiked eggnog). Without his uniform on, he looks much softer, dreamier.

“You…have?” you ask, bewildered.

“Yup! Come on, I gotta ask you something,” he answers cheerfully, gesturing for you to follow him.

You’re a bit wary of what he’s scheming, but you’d rather risk it than have to deal with any more marriage talk, so you gladly let him whisk you away from the crowd. Donghyuck leads you to a less crowded part of the room, swiping a piece of chocolate cake when he walks past the dessert table, and tucks himself into a corner that’s concealed by a giant Christmas tree.

“Here we go. I introduce to you my super covert corner that I stand in when I want to avoid nosy relatives,” he says in a sing-song voice before offering you the cake in his hand. “Would you like some German chocolate cake made by yours truly? It’s pretty damn average, if I do say so myself.”

You pause, only just now realizing that Donghyuck helped you out. You suppose you have nothing to lose, so you accept the cake. “Oh. Thank you. So, you didn’t have anything you wanted to ask me?”

“Well, actually, I do,” he hums, giving you a sheepish grin. “You set Mark’s car on fire last night, didn’t you?”

Part of you already expected this question coming, so you manage to keep your expression neutral. “Are you accusing me?”

“Why, I wouldn’t dare. Besides, I don’t need to. I know you did,” he says casually, shrugging.

Even though you should feel panicked, you don’t. In fact, Donghyuck almost seems to find it amusing.

“Do you have proof?”

“Mark told me,” he states sweetly.

You sigh loudly, immediately giving up the ruse. “I knew that damn lowlife would yap.”

“So, what did he do?”

“Of course, he told you what I did but didn’t tell you what he did,” you snort.

“What, he cheat or something?”

“Worse.”

You pull out your phone and show Donghyuck Mark’s Discord DMs and watch his expression morph into disgust as you indulge in the cake he gave you. The dessert is perfectly average as he said, but there’s something charming about it. In that way, the cake is quite similar to its maker.

“As a government employee and resident fighter of fires, nothing justifies arson,” he states after a brief moment to collect his thoughts, “but this comes pretty damn close.”

You give him a smug I-told-you-so look.

“But seriously, what you did was really dangerous, Y/N. You could have injured yourself badly. That jackass is not worth getting third-degree burns over. There are better ways to get revenge, you know,” he lectures.

“Like what?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I don’t know, like TP or egg his car or something. Slash his tires?”

“God, are you from a 90s movie or something? That’s lame as hell,” you snort, taking another bite of cake.

“Dig your key into the side of his pretty little souped up four-wheel drive? Carve your name into his leather seats? Take a Louisville slugger to both headlights? Slash a hole in all four tires?” He wriggles his eyebrows.

“Are you quoting Before He Cheats by Carrie Underwood?” you ask incredulously.

“Maybe next time he’ll think before he cheats…” Donghyuck sings, purposefully off-key.

You can’t fight that smile that spreads across your face, and it eventually turns into a full-on belly laugh when he continues to sing. It’s the first genuine laugh, the first moment of brief happiness and relief, that you’ve felt in a long time. You thought you had it when you set Mark’s car on fire, but something still coiled in the pit of your stomach like simmering, black smoke. In this tiny little corner that smells of pine needles and chocolate cake, you feel free like a clear sky after a long winter storm.

“For the record,” Donghyuck says, voice gently dipping, “you’ve always been too good for him, and everyone knows it―including him. He’ll regret what he did to you for the rest of his life. That’s your revenge.”

Your breath staccatos in your chest at his words. You tell yourself that he has always been a smooth talker, but he looks at you with such honesty and warmth that you want to believe him.

“Have you always been this sweet?” You meant for the words to come out in a teasing manner, but your voice is tinged with breathlessness.

Donghyuck grins, and his lips remind you of the heart-shaped lollipops that you see in the store during Valentine’s Day. “The sweetest.”

A part of you wonders what would happen if you craned your neck and kissed him right here and now. Not because you’re romantically interested in him, of course. Rather, it would be a spectacular way to get revenge on Mark. Most girls go for the brother or the best friend―maybe even the dad if one is particularly ambitious―but the cousin is an untapped (pun NOT intended) medium for revenge.

You wonder if Donghyuck tastes like cookies or wine-filled chocolates or spiked eggnog or even fruitcake. You really hate fruitcake, but you suppose you wouldn’t mind for the sake of revenge.

But you would never do that to him. He’s much too kind of a person to be involved in you and Mark’s mess. The fact that you’re able to confide in him and he actually takes your side is something that you truly appreciate. As much as you want to torment Mark, it’s best to just end it here.

“You can use me too, you know,” Donghyuck adds.

“Huh?” You blink.

“For your revenge,” he clarifies. “Use me. To make him jealous, to bully him, whatever you want.”

For a moment, you almost believe he somehow read your mind.

“Just wanted to let you know,” he says, shrugging, “since you probably think it would be too mean. Plus, I think you would need my help anyways.”

That makes you feel greatly offended. “What is that supposed to mean? You say that like I didn’t set a car on fire.”

“You’re too naive in your thinking. Revenge doesn’t always have to be loud and in your face like that. It’s a lot more fun when you break them down psychologically in more subtle ways,” he explains.

“So, you―as a government employee―can’t approve of me committing arson because I got cheated on, but you―as a government employee―can casually and openly discuss waging psychological warfare on another civilian. On said person who cheated on me, who also happens to be your cousin because you seemed to have forgotten that, ” you point out sardonically.

Donghyuck just smiles before slightly leaning in, eyes flickering down to your lips. You open your mouth to retort but your words instantly die in your throat, softly gasping when his hand brushes your chin as he reaches over and swipes a bit of chocolate frosting from your bottom lip with his thumb.

“Sure I can,” he answers smoothly, “because, unlike a certain someone, I won’t get caught.”

“I didn’t―”

“And by the way, Mark didn’t tell me you set his car on fire.”

You gawk at him as he walks past you with a content grin on his face. “Now come on, I hear my aunt calling for us.”

Maybe you need to take back your earlier statement of Donghyuck being too kind. He might actually have more screws loose than you.

You almost completely forget about Mark until he finally comes downstairs for the white elephant exchange. You’re in such a daze from your earlier interaction with Donghyuck that you barely recoil when Mark takes a seat beside you on the couch, especially since Donghyuck is sitting in the rocking chair directly across from you.

The gift exchange begins once everyone has drawn a number, and you honestly just dissociate for the first half of it. Keeping your gaze trained on the piece of paper that has 26 scribbled on it, you don’t look up until you feel Mark get up beside you and pick a gift from the pile. You’re praying to both Jesus and Santa that he doesn’t pick yours, but you suppose you've been deemed a sinner and also put on the Naughty List (maybe for setting your cheating ex’s care on fire?) because Mark somehow manages to find yours in the pile of presents.

When he opens it, you can tell by the way he quickly glances at you that he knows it’s yours. After all, he saw you practicing your knitting throughout the week. He happily wraps it around his neck and beams proudly. “I love it.”

The way he carefully looks back at you makes you want to smack him into the new year. You know he’s trying to get on your good side, and you make it clear with your scowl that it isn’t working.

You’re actually grateful that it’s your turn next so that you’re able to get up and walk away from him. Wanting to get this entire situation over with, you haphazardly grab one from the top of the pile. Your heart sinks when you take out the stuffing paper from the bag and realize that it’s Mark’s gift. You contemplate putting the paper back in and not opening it at all, but you cave under the pressure of all the expectant pairs of eyes on you.

In typical Mark fashion, his gift is a signed T-shirt of his own merch. It’s an obnoxious yellow color with his Twitch username and a giant screen printed image of his face plastered across it. He’s written his signature right over his forehead, so it makes him look like he has random chicken scratch on his face.

“Oh, it must be destiny!” Mrs. Lee exclaims, clapping her hands together.

You force a smile before returning to your seat, doing everything in your power to ignore Mark’s stupid giddy expression. Shoving the shirt back into the bag, you casually kick it away from you.

A couple more people take their turns, and you’re counting down the seconds to when this is finally over so you can go home. Eventually, it’s Donghyuck’s turn, and he saunters towards you and holds his hand out.

“Gimme.”

You blink at him.

“Your gift. I’m stealing it,” he explains, wiggling his fingers.

“You want…this?” you ask, completely baffled.

“Well, duh. It’s going to sell for a lot of money, you know.” He winks.

You can’t help but laugh when you realize he’s helping you out again. “This has to be unethical. Aren’t you a government employee?”

“Government employees need to make money too,” he replies, sighing.

“Well, if you really want it, I guess I have no choice,” you huff, faking exasperation before handing him the bag.

You’re smiling when he takes it and walks back to his chair, and you hear Mark grumble something under his breath. Turning to him, you raise an eyebrow, snippily asking, “What?”

“I said,” he repeats so loudly that it reverberates throughout the room, “when did the two of you get so friendly?”

A silence falls over everyone, and the two of you are now center stage.

“Are you really going to do this now?” you hiss.

“I noticed that the two of you were getting awfully cozy behind the Christmas tree earlier,” Mark retorts, shrugging.

Donghyuck gets up to intervene, but he doesn’t have time to even react before you grab a pillow from the couch and chuck it in Mark’s face.

“You’ve got some nerve. Was this your plan all along? To make me look like the bad guy in front of your family?” you demand, feeling your face grow hotter and hotter from rage. “You and uwukittenbb69 were getting awfully cozy too, don’t you think? I’d say snug as a bug in a goddamn rug even.”

Mark stands up in a flash, his eyes frantically glancing at his mom before pointing his finger at you. “Baby, I told you she was just a friend.”

You nearly choke on air when you hear him call you that. Making a beeline towards the pile of presents, you begin to toss them at Mark with each question you add. “You absolute lunatic. Do friends beg each other for pictures of their tits? Do friends write raps confessing their love for one another? Do friends blow off their anniversary with their girlfriend so that they can meet up for a quick booty call? And yes, I’m saying quick because you and I both know it’ll be a speedy endeavor.”

“What on Earth is going on?” Mrs. Lee cries out as Mark tries his best to swat away the presents being hurled at him.

“You’re a psycho bitch,” Mark yells. “It’s not like I actually slept with her. We were just messing around online. You got jealous over nothing. And you set my car on fire!”

“You wanna see psycho?” you snap, throwing the present in your hands down onto the floor and marching towards him with your bare fists before you suddenly stop and take in your surroundings. You see the horror and shock on everyone’s faces, the way they’re looking at you, and then perhaps most clear of all―Mark’s expression. He’s angry just like you, but there’s a glimmer of victory in his eyes. As if he’s bested you in some manner.

And he has. You’re the villain now.

Taking in a deep breath, you will yourself to walk over to Mark in a calm manner, looking him directly in the eye.

“You’re nothing except a liar and a cheater, Mark Lee. That will never change that no matter how much you try to spin it in front of your family. You built your success off my back, and I hope that haunts you for the rest of your life. May you receive everything that you’ve done to me tenfold. That’s all I want to say—” You pause. “Oh, and I’ve always thought your Cybertruck was fucking ugly.”

You reach over and snatch the scarf from his neck before turning and walking out of the door, feeling like you finally managed to cut off the ball and chain around your ankle. Just as you’re about to reach your car, you hear someone calling after you.

“I’ll drive you home,” Donghyuck says once he catches up to you.

“I’m not so distraught that I’ll become a hazard on the road,” you say wryly

“Well, when it comes to being around a car, you’ve certainly proved that you’re not exactly at your most dangerous when you’re behind the wheel,” he jokes.

“You may have a point,” you acknowledge, giving him a small smile.

“Let me drive you home, Y/N. I’m worried about you,” he insists again, much quieter this time.

“How are you going to get back then?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I’ll call an Uber or something.”

“That would be such a waste of money,” you snort.

“Not if it’s for you,” he says almost instantly. His normally brown eyes almost look auburn when under the golden glow of the sunset.

There’s such determination, such assurance, such warmth in his gaze that you let yourself be surrounded with, no longer having the energy to resist him, and it feels like falling onto a soft cloud after a long, winding journey. For once, you just want someone to take care of you, even if it’s just for a moment.

“Fine. Do as you please,” you relent, tossing him your car keys before walking around to the passenger side and climbing in.

Donghyuck looks relieved, beaming when he situates himself in the driver’s seat. You try not to be impressed with the way he easily backs out of the driveway with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the headrest behind you, maneuvering the wheel with a deftness you’ve never seen before. Then again, he does drive a massive fire truck on the daily, so your Toyota probably isn’t much of a challenge for him.

He drives with his eyes staring straight down the road―almost too focused―because you know he’s trying not to look at you. Probably because you’re making it abundantly clear that you don’t want him to look at you, leaning your head against the window and away from him. It doesn’t mean that you don’t see his wandering eyes, almost as if it were second nature, drift back to you in the reflection of the window.

“Pathetic, right?” you finally say, feeling suffocated by the heavy silence.

“What’s pathetic?”

“Me.”

“Why would you be pathetic?” Donghyuck grips the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning white as the leather creaks under the force of his hold.

“Mark was right. I talked a big game in front of him, but in the end, I was just the psycho ex-girlfriend. I told myself that I would never let him hold my emotions hostage anymore. That I would erase any care I had for him left in me. Because indifference means that I’m truly free. But I couldn’t do it. I really hate him, to my very core, and that means he still has power over me. I hate that most of all. I want him to feel the same pain I did, and I want to exact revenge on him, but at the same time, I want to move on with my life. I’m like a dog chasing my own tail; it’s pathetic.”

You wanted to sound more lighthearted about this, turn it into a joke, but Donghyuck seems to draw out a vulnerability within you that makes you want to tell him everything you’ve been trying to desperately ignore.

“Y/N, you’re dealing with the end of a long-term relationship. It’s only natural that you have confusing and conflicting feelings about everything. You’re not pathetic; you’re human. Mark stole your girlhood and your youth, and it’s going to take time for you to heal from that. It’s impossible to immediately get back on your feet after what he did to you. None of this is your fault, so don’t ever berate yourself,” Donghyuck’s voice trembles as he speaks. “I promise you that one day, you’re going to wake up and you’ll realize that you don’t remember what Mark's favorite food is. His favorite movie. His favorite color. Then you’ll realize that you can barely even remember what his face looks like when he’s sad, happy, angry. Eventually, you’ll forget about him entirely, and all the pain he caused you will just be seconds of your life that evaporates from your mind completely.”

When he speaks to you like there’s nothing he’s more sure of in this world, it makes you want to believe him. You want to be his promise.

“Thank you, Donghyuck,” you whisper, placing your hand on top of his for just a moment before pulling away. Your touch is feather light, but you hope he didn’t notice the way your fingertips lingered a second longer.

The two of you fall quiet again, but this time, the silence is much more comfortable now. You’re almost disappointed when he pulls into your apartment complex, unsure of how to say goodbye to him.

“Would you like some hot cocoa or something?” you blurt out when he parks. “I think I have some in my apartment.”

You don’t realize how suggestive your offer sounds until it’s too late. Donghyuck hesitates for a moment, and you can tell he’s debating on if he should tease you about it or not. To your surprise, he doesn’t.

“Nah, it’s okay. It’s getting dark soon, so I should head back.” He pulls out his phone and starts ordering an Uber.

“Want me to wait with you then?” You’re not sure why you keep insisting on staying with him, but this day has been so batshit insane that you almost feel like a passenger in your own body.

“Probably not a good idea,” he chuckles.

Now, you feel both confused and slightly offended again.

“And why is that? I know I’ve been a bit of a menace today, but still…” you trail off awkwardly.

Donghyuck pauses for a moment as he stares at you; his face is closer to yours than it’s ever been because you’re sitting right next to him. You can tell he’s thinking very carefully about his next words. It occurs to you that, for a guy as seemingly flippant as him, he is actually quite thoughtful.

“You know, I’ve been compared to Mark my entire life,” he begins, musing.

“Sooo…you didn’t want me to wait with you because you’re gearing up for a trauma dump?” You raise an eyebrow.

Donghyuck holds his hand up in front of you, shushing you. “Shh, let me have my big moment.”

“Sorry. Please proceed.”

“Ahem. As I was saying, I was but a poor, innocent wee boy living in the shadow of the golden child in our family. Mark was always the more athletic, the funnier, the more charming one. His grades were ass, but he always managed to get out of trouble because he was the favorite. When I got my job as a firefighter and he was unemployed, my family barely congratulated me or even acknowledged it at all because they were afraid they would upset Mark. You see, I’ve actually lived quite a tragic life,” Donghyuck sniffles, wiping away a fake tear.

“What a shame that they can’t see how wonderful you are,” you chime in, a smile in your voice.

Your honesty in response to his joke visibly catches him off guard, and he blinks a couple of times before your words finally register.

“Right?” he huffs dramatically, but he can’t seem to meet your eyes completely as a light flush dustes his face and ears. “But fret not, I didn’t particularly mind. It was nice not having to live up to any expectations. Besides, I was happy for Mark when he finally got successful as a streamer. We were raised like brothers, and I always admired him. I was proud of him.”

“Ha, little did you know—”

“All this to say that, growing up, I’ve never been once jealous of Mark,” Donghyuck states proudly.

Then he slowly looks over at you with longing eyes, almost as if his body turning itself towards you is a natural reflex. His expression is so soft and affectionate that it nearly takes your breath away.

“That is, until he met you.”

So, this is what Donghyuck looks like when he’s in love. You wonder if it would ever be possible for you to wake up one day and not remember it.

But you aren’t sure if you return his feelings in the same way. Just like you couldn’t bring yourself to use him for your revenge, you can’t bring yourself to ask him to wait for you while you figure out the mess of your current emotional state. The one who loves more always loses, and you don’t want to lose Donghyuck.

“I just wanted to tell you that,” he continues, “I’m not expecting a response. It’s for the better you don’t respond right now anyways. If you want to pretend like this conversation was all a bad dream conjured up by sleep paralysis and never want to talk about it again, I’m okay with that too.”

You smile.

“But…if you’re able to, just look my way sometimes. I’ll do everything in my power to keep your attention, even if I have to get on a unicycle with a clown nose and juggle. And, if one day, you find yourself looking for me on your own, let me know. Then, I’ll ask for an answer,” Donghyuck promises.

True to your word, you don’t give him an answer. Instead, you take the scarf that’s been laying across your lap—the scarf with a few holes thanks to missing yarn and sections where you accidentally knitted the pattern in the wrong direction. Now it’s a bit stretched out due to you snatching it off Mark.

But this scarf, as average (maybe even less) as it may be, is charming in its own way.

Leaning forward, you wrap the scarf around Donghyuck’s neck. He watches you in complete awe, in a trance, as if he were in a dream and any movement would wake him up.

“I should head inside now,” you say quietly, trying not to giggle at his stupefied expression.

He only nods dazedly, and you’re certain that would have been his reaction regardless of what you said. It takes a few more beats for your words to actually click before he clears his throat loudly. “Right. Yes. You should.”

He hands you your keys back before stepping out of the car and opening your door for you. “I’ll wait down here until you get inside, and then I’ll go meet my Uber.”

“Thanks for driving me,” you say, realizing you never thanked him.

“You’re welcome. Good night, Y/N.” Donghyuck puts his hands in his pockets and tucks his chin into the scarf as he watches you go.

As your hand hovers over the doorknob, you know you should just open the door and walk inside so you don’t keep him waiting in the cold. You really shouldn’t look back because it would mean that you wanted to. Not because he asked you to.

But you do. You look back—

only to meet his eyes, the two of you exchanging knowing smiles.

extra | is it me? am i the drama? i don’t think i’m the drama…

r/AmITheAsshole

u/justgirlythings-arson119 • 9h

(UPDATE) AITA for setting my cheating ex’s car on fire? (and then falling for his cousin)

So, it turns out my cheating ex got catfished. His supposed Discord kitten was actually some random guy and his friend who were dicking around. They ended up leaking the DMs so they’re all public now for those who would like to read them (by now, I’m sure you all know who my cheating ex is). I would highly advise against listening to the rap confession though. Godspeed if you choose to. I am also selling his expensive PC setup on Facebook Marketplace if anyone’s interested. Happy New Year!

P.S. I ended up inviting the cousin over for hot cocoa. He’s very sweet.

⥣ 11.3k ⥥ 2,293 Comments

pissrevolver1122 • 8h rip bozo got catfished by me n bro for some robux

➥ Reply ⥣ 3.8k ⥥

pooprevolver0205 • 8h can’t believe bro actually jacked off to a pic of knees LMAO ➥ ⥣ 1.9k ⥥

piss-k1nk0219 • 2h yall are about to have the awkwardest family get togethers ever lmao

➥ Reply ⥣ 910 ⥥

bigsnowballs0813 • 4h $5 and an iced coffee for the pc take it or leave it

➥ Reply ⥣ 748 ⥥

femboyluvr0701 • 1h are u gonna set the cousin's car on fire too

➥ Reply ⥣ 639 ⥥

justgirlythings-arson119 • 1h probably not he’s very good at putting out fires :( ➥ ⥣ 482 ⥥

#nct imagines #nct scenarios #haechan fluff #nct dream imagines #nct dream fluff #haechan #nct #choerrypuffs #luvpuffcore collab #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 imagines

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minswriting · 28 days ago

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Can u do a Spencer nsfw x reader and they are having sex and he gets a phone call amd carry’s on fucking reader

please i love this idea. i wrote a hotch one so now its time to write a spencer one

nsfw | mdni | spencer reid x reader | unprotected sex, hotch mention, p in v

spencer had been thinking about you all day. when he was at work, all he could think about was fucking you into oblivion. he would glance at you, a subtle invitation to invite you back to his place after work which you would then subtly nod your head confirming your plans. he was desperate to have his cock inside of you. neither of you had a lot of time for one another. being on cases the past few weeks with no time to fulfill one another’s needs. it was safe to say that both of you were needy.

which is what was happening now.

you were laid on the mattress with your hair sprawled out and your legs over spencer’s shoulders while he thrusted into you at an unbelievably fast pace. both of you just needed release. “god, i missed this,” spencer groaned, pressing a kiss onto your ankle as he pulled out and thrusted back into you.

you were moaning, head turned to the side as you clutched the sheets below you. spencer’s cock always worked you so nicely. the three times he ate you out before fucking you certainly helped with the sensitivity. “you feel so good,” you moaned.

“i know, baby,” spencer said, looking down at you. you were truly a sight to behold. with your flushed skin, rosy cheeks, boobs bouncing with each thrust spencer gave, he knew he wouldn’t last long. you were just too perfect. “you feel amazing,” he groaned, closing his eyes for a moment to take in the feeling of your pussy around his cock.

and then suddenly spencer’s phone began ringing, causing you both to groan in annoyance.

spencer opened his eyes to glance at his phone that was on the nightstand, seeing hotch’s caller I.D. he paused his movements, looking back at you. “it’s hotch,” he cleared his throat.

your eyes widened as you realized your boss was calling spencer while spencer was literally inside of you. it was late so you knew he wouldn’t be calling unless absolutely necessary. “you should answer it,” you said.

and so spencer grabbed his phone and answered the call. “hello?” he answered, holding the phone to his ear. his cock was still inside of you, just unmoving. it was silly, really, when you think about it. spencer listened to the phone call, rolling his eyes when he realized it wasn’t about a new case. “i sent in the files earlier today,” he said, moving a hand to grip your knee.

you watched as spencer spoke on the phone, listening carefully to what aaron was saying on the other end. you could hear the faint deep voice but couldn’t make out what was being said. and as spencer realized the call wasn’t deeply important, he did what you least expected him to do.

he began moving his hips again.

you let out an audible gasp, moving your hand to your mouth to stop yourself from making any noises.

spencer took a deep, shaky breath, listening to aaron drone on as he moved inside of you slowly. “well the geographical profile was mapped out using a few mathematical equations formulated with the coordinates,” spencer tried his best to keep his voice steady as he continued thrusting his cock inside of you.

and when you started meeting his thrusts, spencer let his eyes flutter shut. he tried his best to pay attention to what aaron was saying but spencer could hardly care when you’re cunt is fluttering around his cock so prettily. spencer couldn’t help the small whimper that left his lips.

“is everything okay?” hotch asked over the phone.

spencer cleared his throat. “uh-yes,” he said shakily. “i’m just…busy at the moment. can we talk later?” and rather than waiting for a response, spencer simply ended the call, knowing tomorrow he’d likely get chewed out. but he couldn’t help it when you just felt so good.

spencer tossed his phone to the side after ending the call, now drilling into you with a purpose. both of you began moaning loudly, wanting desperately to cum.

and hotch? well, he certainly had an idea of what spencer was doing. it didn’t take a profiler to notice that aaron had called spencer while having sex.

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #criminals minds x reader #spencer reid #🌸 — min’s asks #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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vamptizm · 3 months ago

Text

PRETTY LIKE A PRINCESS — p. bueckers

pairing : paige bueckers x fem!reader

synopsis : you’re having a bad day and paige asks to do your makeup for you

warnings : none

word count : 600 (very short sorry)

note : are u guys okay with the small writing size or should i change it to the regular one so that everyone can read it easily?

“Let me do your makeup.” You heard from her familiar voice from where u sat cross-legged on the floor, facing the large mirror that you had been too lazy to hang up yet.

You didn’t have to be anywhere. Quite the opposite. It was a stay at home day but you couldn’t help but want to do something nice for yourself. Doing your makeup wasn’t something solely reserved for outings, it was a form of expression and art to you— something that never failed to cheer you up when having a bad day. And that’s exactly what today was. A bad day.

It had started with you not getting enough sleep on your only day off of the week, while Paige peaceful slept beside you like a baby, the soft snores and her even breathing pattern almost taunting you as you rolled over for the umpteenth time.

Then it continued with your comfort character dying in—according to you— the most unnecessary way possible. It didn’t take much for your mood to sink, the slightest inconvenience was usually enough.

“You wanna do my makeup?” You repeated with a raised brow, almost as if unsure whether you had heard her right or not.

“Well, that’s what I just said, isn’t it?” The blonde grinned from her spot, back leaned against your bed frame and her arms behind her head, unintentionally flexing those arm muscles that pushed you closer to the edge of insanity daily.

You could perfectly see her from the reflection in the mirror, but still you craned your neck to shoot her a look. “Don’t get smart with me, Goldilocks. I’m not the one today.”

That had managed to emit a full chuckle from your girlfriend, arms falling back to her sides as she straightened up. “C’mon, baby, please. You don’t trust me?”

“Now you’re just making me sound bad.” You rolled your eyes with sigh, though not truly annoyed. If anything, the thought of it made you feel somewhat giddy. But you wouldn’t admit that. “Okay… fine.”

And that’s how you ended up sitting on the bed, cross-legged once again as you faced Paige. She started out by finishing the base that you had started, but before you knew it, you already felt her hands snaking around your hips, swiftly pulling you into her lap.

“Much better, baby.” She mumbled, a faint smirk on her face as she adjusted you on top of her.

All you could do was look down at the girl, silently watching as her warm hands left and found your face repeatedly. occasionally cradling it for longer than needed, gently tilting it to the side as if you’d break any moment. All that and more, had you fighting for dear life to bite back a smile.

“All done, baby.” Paige spoke again, finally breaking the comfortable silence between the two of you, her eyes gleaming in adoration and awe. Her hands instinctively found their way to your waist, holding you almost as if to steady you. “Pretty like a princess.”

Your heart warmed at her words, a rosy hue creeping onto your cheeks and you couldn’t help but eventually crack a smile at the girl. The affect she had on you, was anything short of healing and comforting. You tilted your head forward slightly, hands snaking up to delicately cup her face before you placed a soft, lingering kiss on her lips as she looked up at you.

A bright smile formed on her face, lighting her entire face up and you could’ve sworn that right then and there, you fell in love with Paige all over again, as if it had been the first time.

#⇢ ˗ˏˋ vamptizm writes ࿐ྂ #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #uconn huskies #wnba #wnba x reader #wbb x reader #wnba basketball

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solbaby7 · 11 months ago

Note

If ur still taking requests can i ask for azriel x reader. Where reader and Az are newish friends. One day Elain asks reader for help on how to please a man (I imagine elain always on her back 🤷‍♀️). Reader asks elain if its to show Az and elain just blushes sweetly saying "maybe". Reader being a girls girl shows elain how to be ontop and how to do other favors like if they were besties. ( idk if uve seen game of thrones but a girl shows khalessi how to ride khal drogo. The girl straight up straddles her with clothes on of course, And shows her. I have it in my head that while reader straddles elain Az walks in and is like 😮😮). Readers a bit jealous cuz she has a mini crush on azriel but doesnt show it. She sees elain with some hickies and what not and she decides she cant be around Az anymore (hurts too much blah idk lol). Az is like wtf! Turns out that Elain was asking for sexy help for lucien!!! Doesnt have to be detailed smutty at all, whatever ur comfortable with is cool with me. Oh btw i so so loved that possessive toxic azriel fic u posted the other day. 🫠🫠🫠 🥵🥵🥵

I love love love love love this idea! So happy you requested it🤍💗

—

Teach Me

azriel x reader

[ part 2 ]

“Well—can you help me with that?” A furious blush fans across Elain’s cheeks, eyes wide and hands fumbling at her sides. Dainty fingers dig into the intricate lace detailing of her dress, nails raking over the pattern in attempts to calm the racing of her heart.

“You want to know how to please a male,” You repeat gently, slightly shocked after she’d timidly slipped into your bedroom with flushed cheeks and sweaty palms. It took Elain ten whole minutes to reign in her rambling until she’d finally blurted it out. “Anyone in particular?” She doesn’t meet your eye, shifting her weight from foot to foot and your stomach rolls at the turn your mind takes. Elain had been spending a lot of time around Azriel; afternoons spent tending to the garden and evenings were blocked off to trail behind as she baked some new sweet treat. “Az, maybe?”

“Maybe,” Elain mutters softly, subtly taking in the contents of your room. The pictures propped against your side table and the endless jars and creams stacked neatly on your vanity. “Can you please teach me?”

Pushing side your curiosity, you offer an encouraging smile, patting at the spot beside you on the bed. “Come here.” The first step is hesitant and so is the one that follows but Elain still finds herself following the gentle command and complying even further when you urge her to lie back. You can feel her thighs shake when you swing a leg over to straddle them but the trembling subsides when you adjust her hair and straighten out her dress. “Sex is like a dance.”

Immediately, she’s hooked, hanging onto every word as if you were the Mother herself coming down for a personal visit. Briefly, Elain’s gaze flicks to the door, shoulders relaxing when noting its shut and locked; curtains drawn and the fireplace crackled with life. The smell of you is everywhere. Something light yet memorable, soft and elegant, classic and slightly sweet—soothing in every way. “A dance?”

“It starts off slow,” You begin, a sliver of your abdomen exposed in your Night Court attire. A breathable onyx top that seemed to wrap around your chest like a bandage, blending into a lighter material that was slightly see-through. “Lingering glances from across the room, the heat of feeling his eyes watching you long after you’ve looked away.” Her confusion is palpable in her furrowed brows and slight pout. “Love always begins in the eyes—I’ve heard of women who’ve finished males with nothing more than their gaze alone.”

“Finished?” Your brow raises, a teasing smirk accompanying it and the implication alone has Elain’s cheeks rosy once more. “Oh, gods. I don’t think I’m capable of anything like that.”

Your fingers trace along the length of her bare arms, holding her hands and guiding them to the sides of her head as you hover, voice low. “You are a woman. You’re capable of anything.”

Elain swallows thickly, taking in the words as if it were the first time she truly wanted to believe them. “What if he doesn’t like it? Like me or the fact that I’m not very experienced.”

“They don’t care about if you have experience or not. They simply desire what they’ve never had.” She hangs onto every word, analyzing the way you guide her through the motions of what she’d do. Talking her through the scenarios on how she’d touch; when to kiss and gently tug at hair. Eventually the blushing becomes less frequent, Elain’s eyes fluttering closed as she visualized it, working through the new feelings that brewed at the thought of being able to use such teachings.

“And they like that? Us on top?”

“If you like it then they’ll love it.” You rest her hands at your waist, demonstrating the sensual rocking of hips going back and forth. “Fae males are not like the human men you were accustomed to—all sweet and gentle. Fae’s fuck. They take control,” You’re still above her, watching as her thoughts race a mile a minute, thick lashes fluttering before she moves in a flurry. Quickly the position is changed and while it’s a little sloppy, Elain was obviously paying attention as she hooks her leg over your thighs the same way you had hers. “Good job—exactly like that.”

She lets out a laugh, seemingly surprised in her own actions but the thrill of it all is evident across ethereal features. “My heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest.”

“Breathe through it and always remember that no matter how highly you think of him in your mind, no matter how highly others think of him—in that room, he belongs to you. There for you to do as you please and if you’re ever uncomfortable you can always say no. You can always stop no matter how far you’ve gotten.”

Elain nods in understanding, dainty fingers barely gripping at your wrists. “Thank you for this. I don’t know what I’d do if—just, thank you.”

She lingers a tad longer, following every instruction you give and just as you’re about to correct her, your door creaks open. A familiar voice calls out your name, shadows slinking across the wallpaper but they freeze once they take you in—sprawled out against the bed with Elain straddling you, hands pinned by your head.

“We were just—“ Elain scrambles off of you, cheek and chest a furious red as her mouth opens and closes; unable to come up with a reasonable explanation before she’s sliding past Azriel and rushing down the hallway.

“Most people knock.”

But Az wasn’t most people. You’d been friends for years and long since had he forgone the formality of knocking before entering. He hasn’t moved an inch, still donning his fighting leathers and surely he must’ve just rushed in from flying because his hair was a fucking mess. Inky strands lay messily atop his head, flopping over his forehead and teasing the thick of his brows. “What was that?” A finger points in the direction Elain had just disappeared off too and you’re unable to explain why such anger swells in your gut—all too aware of the fact that another female would be using your moves on him.

Seducing him in a manor that belonged to you but would never actually be you.

“Just wait a little, I’m sure it’ll make sense soon.” Confusion sweeps over the angles of his face at the vagueness of your words, skewing the corners of his mouth and you have to physically tear your eyes away before you did something stupid. Like, kiss him. You suck in a sharp breath, a hand curling around the doorknob. “You should get to bed, Az. It’s late.”

You can’t bear to see the look on his face when you close the door on him but it was for the best. It was one thing crushing on him while knowing he wanted another. But it was more complicated now, teaching the object of all his desires exactly what to do to him—how to please him and draw out the sounds you’d been dreaming about for decades.

You flop down on your bed, nose scrunching at the lingering smell of Elain on your pillows.

Sleep doesn’t grace you with her presence that night, instead offering a series of scenarios of what could be happening a few hallways down.

Elain’s back two days later, a goofy grin spread across her cheeks and a line of hickeys branding the side of her neck in a way that makes your stomach turn. It takes everything in you to hide the jealously, to smooth over the embarrassment of ever possibly thinking that Azriel would go for you when he had a blushing Archeron hanging off his arm. “I take it that it went well.”

“More than well,” Elain confessed, dressed in a pale shade of green with ivy’s laced into the thin sleeves. “It was perfect—everything was perfect thanks to you.” She continues on, divulging naughty details and devastating descriptions of Azriel’s fingers grazing at bare skin, the tickle of his hair against her cheek, the warmth radiating from his body when the nights chill became too much. “I’d always heard whispers about the males of Autumn but you guys really weren’t joking,” Your head tilts to the side at that certain detail, brow quirking and your spoon halts its swirling about the teacup. “Fire really does run through their veins.”

“Autumn males?” Your hair flicks behind your shoulder with the wild way you turn to face her, arms crossed loosely over your chest. “You were with Lucien last night?”

Elain nods with a knowing smile growing at the corner of full lips, the tulle of her dress shifting obnoxiously when she takes a seat on your bed.

“I guess I just assumed you’d be with Azriel.”

“Not quite my type,” She replies wistfully, gaze far away as if she were reminiscing on the night before and the male involved. “He’s yours though,” It’s not a question but a statement, thrown out there as if it were a known fact amongst others and you were the last to be let in. “—you like him.”

The teacup pressed to your lips muffles the words but Elain still understands perfectly clear. “”He’s my friend.”

“Friends don’t really look at friends the way he looks at you.” You swallow audibly, attempting to hide your interest and yet it’s the quick flick of your eyes that gives you away. “It’s exactly as you said the other night,” Elain raises from the bed, a gentle hand trailing up your arm the same way you’d done to her. “Love always begins in the eyes. Just look at him—really look at him and see what’s right in front of you.”

Your hands tremble in your lap and for the first time in a very long while, it was you that felt like the blushing virgin searching for answers and not knowing where to look. “I don’t think I’m capable of handling what I might find.”

“You are a woman,” Elain softly answers. “You’re capable of anything.”

#acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar x you #azriel #acotar azriel #azriel x you #azriel fluff #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar smut #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #az smut #azriel smut #elain archeron #acotar

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eph3merall · 3 months ago

Note

I really liked the concept of loser!reader x fratboy!chris, I need more plsss. PS: I love your writing so much!!

idk how i feel about this. hope u enjoy <3 havent specifically thought out their dynamic / character traits yet so this might be a lil iffy. thank u sm n i love u 🤍

notes. loser!reader has an oral fixation n ends up sucking chris' dick.

the two of you lay on chris' bed, the aroma of weed heavy and laying a thick blanket over the room. a candle is lit on his desk for some ounce of lighting and to mask the scent of smoke—a window cracked open as well. every small gust of wind is making the flame atop the candle flicker and wave, casting shadows across the space.

chris is sat up, back resting against his headboard with your head cradled gently in his lap. you're laying on the plush mattress slightly sideways to allow your head to fit onto his lap, a throw blanket draped over your body. your face is itchy and red from previous tears, letting the soothing palm of chris' hand rub over your shoulder and into your hair.

he's smoking a joint, feeling his chest lift up and down with each inhale and exhale. soft little sniffles sound from your nose, strands of hair sticking to your tear-stained cheeks. chris is taking a puff and watching the smoke filter out of his mouth, then offering you the joint.

slowly, you reach out to take it between your fingers—quick to inhale and then exhale the smoke in your lungs. chris reaches for the joint back quickly, however you hold it out of reach just to take a few more huffs. he's rolling his eyes and halting the comforting swipe of his palm across your shoulder.

that's when you give it back to him, whining out lowly in an effort to tell him to keep going. keep touching you. smoke filters out from between your lips as you watch it dissipate into the air. then, chris' hand resumes the path he was taking—rubbing over your shoulder and making it feel as if your skin started burning and tingling with every swipe of his palm over bare skin.

you had gotten into an argument with your parents, then when one of your friends asked what was wrong you had flipped out and yelled at them. you didn't mean to, truly. but it was all just so much and your head had been spinning, a migraine forming and tears burning behind your eyes. then, said friend just scoffed and pranced off to another one of her more popular friends, already starting to whisper and point—giggles reaching your ears and just making you more upset.

so you go and see chris. he wasn't exactly happy to have you knocking on his door like a kicked puppy. he was rolling some pre's for some buyers later that night, maybe heading off to a party at some frat house to see if he can make some extra cash as well.

so when you're running into chris' arms and clutching at his sides like some little kid, he's quick to shove you off and back up to eye you up and down. muttering something about 'what the fuck' and 'fuck is wrong with you?' when you sniffle and the heel of your palm comes up to wipe at the tears now clinging to your lashes and dripping down your rosy cheeks.

and soon enough, you find yourself all tired out and laying your head on chris' lap as you two pass a joint back and forth. it took a little convincing for him to let you stay, but you're forever glad he agreed. you don't exactly have anyone else to go to right now.

chris is suddenly tugging you up so you're sitting in his lap, setting the joint into the ashtray on his bedside little table. he's unscrewing the cap on a plastic water bottle that's already about 2/3 of the way empty, lifting it to your lips. "drink, c'mon. prolly exhausted y'rself n' got your mouth all dry after all that cryin'.. pathetic," the last word is mumbled under his breath and you barely pick it up. you grasp the water bottle, the plastic crinkling under your palms as you take a few sips.

"i'm fine, chris," you huff and shove the drink away from you once chris isn't shoving it in your face to take a sip from it. he's rolling his eyes and placing the bottle back onto his bedside table—only to pick up the joint and take a huff. surprisingly gentle hands are guiding you back down to rest yiur head on his lap—which is what you assumed—but he's positioning your head in front of his crotch.

chris says nothing, only shifts his sweatpants down until his dick is free, already slightly hard as you gaze at him in that way that makes him hate you. all puppy-eyed, staring at him like he's some god to you. sometimes it just pisses chris off so goddamn much. he couldnt tell you why when asked.

hes humming lowly when he sees you ease the tip of his dick into your mouth and suckle on it all gently. he's realized you might have some sort of oral fixation—always wanting to suck on his dick or his fingers or something. so he lets you. not always, sometimes it gets annoying and chris just rams all of it down your throat.

but he's kind of high right now, hand tangling into your hair and stroking the back of your head gently. "mhm, s'what y'needed right?" you're moaning softly around the length of him, shifting your body so you can bob your head up and down gently. lifting off him to mouth at the side of his cock, getting it all slick from your saliva and mewling all soft and in a way chris finds fucking pathetic.

"s'aight, baby. y'got me.. don't worry 'bout 'em."

—

take the ending however u want—had half a mind to make him more nice/more mean but i settled on this version. (for this au.. chris isnt normally this nice. he's literally trash talking reader to her own face sometimes bc hes pissed.) it is soo late sorry for any spelling mistakes / blah blah blah im supes tired </3

tags ! (if u want me to remove u / add u js let me know <3) @conspiracy-ash @sturniolosfavkayleigh @lvrsturniolo @st7rnioioss @meatballlover10 @ashlishes @ferdzom @55sturn @chriseatingmeoutin4k

—

#ᶻz eph3merall #ᶻz asks #ᶻz anons #ೀ fratboy!chris #ೀ loser!reader #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo prompt #chris sturniolo drabble #chris sturniolo blurb #chris sturniolo angst #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut

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lovebugism · 3 months ago

Note

smutty requests you say... maybe eddie x reader fooling around secretly, while wayne's home? so like a little exhibitionism kink?

i'm just now realizing i totally misread the prompt so pls forgive me anon, i'll happily write a part 2 to this if u want!! — the first time uncle wayne catches you and eddie in the act™ (established relationship, inspired by this universe, smut 18+ | 1.3k)

“Alright. I’m headed out,” Wayne announces in a gravelly drawl, huffing as he rises from his creaking recliner. His work boots sound heavy on the worn carpet as he trudges towards the front door, closer to a wretched and unavoidable graveyard shift. His old bones are weighed down by a preemptive dread and a homemade meal you cooked with him in mind.

Eddie feels bad for being so happy to see him leave.

“Have fun,” the boy lilts playfully from where he’s sprawled along the couch, smiling wide with his head tilted to his shoulder.

Wayne grumbles vaguely in response.

“Bye, Mr. Munson,” you grin more sincerely than the boy beside you.

The man flashes you a mere hint of a grin, which is a whole lot more than most people get these days. He pulls a worn baseball cap over his balding head and nods once in your direction. “Bye, sweetpea,” he responds in his usual gritty and melodic Southern cadence.

The rusted hinges of the screen door squeal open and shut behind him. A wintery breeze billows in, briefly piercing the heated trailer and biting at Eddie’s burning skin.

You idle on the other side of the couch, with your eyes drawn to the sitcom playing in static colors ahead of you — unaware of your boy’s building desire and far too distant for his liking. Eddie marvels at your profile, unabashed and boyish, and waits for the perfect moment to strike.

He hears Wayne’s truck door close with a muffled thud. The ignition rattles for a moment, then roars when amber headlights shine suddenly through the sheer curtains. Eddie waits until he hears the tires crunch against the gravel drive before he pounces on you, like unsuspecting prey to a predator of unbridled longing.

You squeal when his mouth locks suddenly with your pulse, warm and wet on your unkissed skin. He wraps you in his arms like he intends to smother you against him. You swear you can feel his heart racing against your shoulder. His tongue darts along the most sensitive spot on your neck, and your head tips back with an airy laugh.

“What?” Eddie mumbles, muffled into your skin.

“Nothing,” you giggle. “Just thought you’d last longer than that.”

“Hm. Feel like I’ve heard that one before.”

“Shut up,” you gripe, but pull him impossibly closer just the same.

You bury your nose in his wild curls, inhaling the sweet scent of his conditioner and the subtle skunky smell of weed. He mouths at your neck with an intentional sloppiness that makes your eyes flutter.

Eddie grumbles a moan against your skin, which you feel in little tingles in the pit of your stomach. “You taste good,” the boy observes mindlessly into your pulse.

“I taste like sweat,” you scoff against his temple. “I still need to shower.”

“What’s the point? You’re just gonna get dirty again.”

Eddie pulls away with a soft smack. His lips are rosy and softly swollen as they curl into a grin. His chocolate eyes swim with mischief as yours narrow into a squint. “You’re such a boy,” you deadpan.

“Just love you,” the boy shrugs. “That’s all.”

You’re grateful when his lips finally meet yours. You’re only able to breathe when he’s kissing you, in a heavy exhale through your nose that fans along his cupid’s bow. He licks into your mouth tasting like a homecooked meal and nicotine and boy. Something foreign and nostalgic and tender. You melt into him accordingly.

When he urges you to lay back against the couch, you let him. You cradle his face in your hands to keep him close as he props himself on his forearms, careful not to crush you despite his efforts to kiss the breath from your lungs. His weight is a comforting one anyway — body warm and lean and pleasantly heavy on top of yours.

You forget to take another breath until Eddie pulls away. You inhale deeply, lungs grateful for air, as the boy’s mouth treks down your jaw.

He leaves a trail of wet kisses down your neck and collarbone, spit cooling and drying again on your skin. Goosebumps pebble in their wake, while his hand slides down your stomach.

His fingertips creep into the waistline of your pajama pants, perhaps a fruitless distraction from the lovebite he sucks just below your jaw. It’s a burning sensation of his teeth, followed by a warmer, more pleasant one as his tongue smooths over the bite.

“What are you? A vampire?” you giggle, fingers twisting in his hair.

You feel his smile curl into your neck. “Maybe,” he quips.

“I have to go leave eventually. You know that, right? And my roommates will freak if they see a hickey.”

Eddie whines between his kisses. “No, you don’t,” he insists with an audible frown. “Why can’t you just stay here forever?”

“Even if I wanted to, Wayne would still see. And that would be equally as horrifying.”

“He won’t be back until morning,” Eddie argues, punctuated by his teeth scraping your pulse. “It’ll be faded by then. Probably.” He licks over the bite and pulls away, peering down at you with a mischievous leer. “Unless… You want me to stop?” he offers in a sarcastic lilt.

You squirm under his gaze. “No…” you answer sheepishly.

He grins. “Then stop complaining, sweet thing.”

“Eddie,” you scold when the boy ducks down again, continuing his assault on your delicate skin, though you make no further attempt to stop him.

His kisses grow wetter and warmer and more languid as his hand travels down down down. A breathy moan catches in your throat when his calloused palm cups your bare pussy.

The damp, velvet feeling of you makes Eddie’s eyes widen. He didn’t know you’d be naked down there. He might’ve been more careful about it if he had.

“Shit,” he huffs.

“Sorry,” you squeak, face swirled apologetically.

Eddie pulls away again, head spinning as he stares down at you with heavy eyes. “No— Don’t— Don’t apologize for that shit, are you kidding?” he stammers, then laughs at how sorrowful you look. Like this could ever be a bad thing. “It’s hot.”

You smile sheepishly. “I’m just running out of clean clothes. That’s why I had to do the laundry today.”

“Well, next time, I’m just gonna lock the door to the washer,” Eddie retorts playfully. “So then you have to walk around naked.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re such a boy,�� you repeat, right before you drag him down by his shoulders to swallow him in another kiss.

You lick into his mouth only to find that his hand had never wavered. He cups you delicately there still, and creeps his middle finger between your satiny folds.

Your hips buck on instinct. His palm bumps your clit. Your moans entwine in a kiss.

The screen door opens again with another grating screech. You and Eddie part instantly, swollen mouths smacking as your heads turn in sync.

Wayne stills in the doorway, weathered face swirled in horror. Neither of you move for several long moments — like, if you stay still, you’ll turn invisible somehow.

“Really?” Wayne huffs. “On the couch?”

Eddie’s wide eyes dart awkwardly. “What are you doing here?” he wonders breathlessly, still on top of you and still with his hand down your pants.

“Forgot my damn wallet.” Wayne keeps his gaze averted as he trudges to the tiny, square dining table by the window. He tucks the leather billfold into the pocket of his navy jumpsuit and promptly returns the way he came.

You and Eddie spare a wordless look of horror between you in the meanwhile.

“Do it in a bed next time, alright?” Wayne advises from the doorway with his back facing you. The rusted door creaks open and, just before it shuts behind him, you hear him shout. “And use protection!”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things #eddie munson #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fics #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble

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joeybsblackgf · 4 months ago

Text

perfect - joe burrow

pairing: joe burrow x black!fem!reader

genre: smut, fluff

word count: 2.7k

content warnings: breeding kink, whisper of a daddy kink, unprotected sex, oral (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving), they’re really in love

synopsis: joey just loves how perfect you are.

playlist: juno - sabrina carpenter

authors note: a hot, new joe burrow writer has entered the villa. hope u love it !! and if u like kpop u can check out my other works on @gojosnympho 🫶🏾

you didn’t go to a lot of joe’s away games. mainly because even though you were the girlfriend to a very rich and successful man, you were still a regular girl with a regular job and a regular life outside of him. you both preferred it that way, honestly. joe took comfort in the normalcy of you. being around you felt easy because you weren’t looking at him as joe burrow the quarterback of the cincinnati bengals. you were looking at him as joey, your boyfriend.

he came home monday night to the smell of you cooking dinner. he hadn’t even realized how hungry he was until the scent invaded his nostrils. he dropped his bags by the front door, promising himself that he’d get them later. the closer he got to the kitchen he could hear your sweet voice, very obviously singing along to whatever song was playing in your ears.

“how you let him cheat and take him back? must be your only nigga.” you rapped along with latto while you took the pan from the oven.

joe only watched you, taking in your comfy appearance. a tiny tank top, the shortest sleep shorts you could find, your bengals slippers, and of course a scarf on your head to protect your braids. his eyes were glued to your ass and the way the cheeks peeked out beneath the short fabric. you turned to see your boyfriend standing in the door of the kitchen, your heart leapt into your throat at the shock that ran through your body. you snatched your airpod out of your ear.

“god joey, you scared the fuck out of me!” you exclaimed. his heart fluttered at the name you called him, further proving his point of how you saw him.

“sorry, you just looked like you were locked in. i didn’t wanna disturb you.”

now that you were turned around, he saw just how tiny that tank top was. he could make out your brown nipples beneath the thin fabric and that fucking belly button ring with the diamond encrusted “j” dangling from it. his eyes trailed up to your face. that perfect, beautiful face that he had as his lock screen on his phone.

“it’s okay, baby boy! i cooked. are you hungry?” you asked him, not even aware of what you were doing to him. he didn’t know what it was about you but he felt like a teenager all over again because of the way he couldn’t control his body. he ignored his urges though, opting to give you a curt nod.

“starving,” joe replied.

“sit down then so i can make your plate.”

again, he nodded going to take a seat at the marble topped island in the middle of the kitchen. he watched you some more, his heart swelling once more with all the love he had for you. he didn’t think it was possible to love someone as much as he loved you. you sat his plate down in front of him and before you could walk away, joe pulled you into a kiss.

“what was that for?” you asked him when he pulled back.

“i love you,” joe said, his cheeks flushing that rosy pink color that made your heart melt.

“i love you too, joey.”

you walked away from him once more, this time to make your own plate. you were going to sit next to him but joe stopped you, “sit on my lap.”

he didn’t even give you a chance to answer before he was dragging your body onto his lap.

“isn’t this uncomfortable for you?” you asked joe who promptly shook his head no.

“is it uncomfortable for you?”

“no.”

“then relax and eat. i missed you, mama. i just wanna be around you,” he explained.

you talked some more while you ate dinner. you told joe all about what you got up to while he was away. he listened intently like he always did whenever you spoke to him.

“i miss you so much when i’m away. you gotta come with me to the next away game,” joe said with a hopeful tinge to his voice.

“okay!” you agreed, enthusiastically.

“you're so perfect,” he praised you. he placed a kiss atop your scarf-covered head.

once you both were settled for the night and about to get in bed, joe caught another glimpse of your nipples beneath your shirt. it reminded him of just how long he’d gone without being inside of you, three days. you crawled into bed next to the quarterback, none the wiser about the dirty thoughts swirling in his head. he pulled your body close to his so that you were pressed flush against his bare chest. the warmth of his body made you relax almost instantly. you missed him just as much when he was gone; even if it was just for a few days.

the cuddling started out innocently enough. you were both enjoying each other’s presence and warmth. joe absentmindedly began to stroke your arm with his deft fingers. you didn’t pay it any mind at first. you were just enjoying your boyfriend’s featherlight touches. he stopped those and used that hand to pull you in almost impossibly close. you gasped when you felt his erection poking you in the back.

“do you see what you do to me?”

“joey,” you breathed out.

“you’re so beautiful and so fucking perfect.”

he began to mouth kisses on your shoulder, his hand snaking around your neck to pull your head towards him so he could kiss you properly.

“been wanting to fuck you since i got home,” he admitted, his lips still against yours. he flipped you over on your back, his big frame on top of your much smaller one. “i’m so lucky to call you mine.”

joe put his lips against yours again, pushing his tongue past your lips to kiss you. it felt like he was replacing all the air in your lungs with his own. his hands began to trail over every part of your body making you ache with need. you could still feel how hard he was from where you laid beneath him.

“can i make you feel good, baby?” joe asked you, his lips ghosting against yours in a way that had every inch of your being begging for more.

“please,” you nodded.

he started to suck on the skin on your neck because he knew how much it made you squirm. once he was satisfied that he’d marked you up he began to kiss down your body. he pulled your tank top up and over your head and sucked in a breath at your exposed breasts. joe wasted no time sucking one of the stiff peaks into his mouth. you softly moaned at the sensation. no matter how many times you found yourself in this situation, joe playing with your body, you could never get enough. his other hand tweaked your unoccupied nipple drawing even more moans from your throat. your hands were planted firmly on his shoulders while you laid there in pure bliss. he let go of one nipple with an obscene pop and quickly found purchase on the other nipple. the cold air hitting your spit-slick nipple made goosebumps arise on your skin.

“let me see how wet you are,” joe grumbled. he kissed down your body to the waistband of your poor excuse for shorts. he tugged on them so you lifted up so he could pull them down your legs. “shit, no panties?” he asked when he realized the only thing that was shielding him from your pussy was the flimsy fabric.

“i knew you were coming home, joey,” you told the blue eyed man who was between your legs.

“yeah? you were ready for me?” he asked, using his finger tips to give the insides of your thighs those featherlight touches that made you ache.

“i’m always ready for you.”

joe felt his dick twitch in his boxers. he focused his attention back on your wet pussy. it was glistening with arousal. your clit swollen and begging to be touched. your little hole winking in anticipation. you whined at joe, wanting him to do something—anything. he kissed all around where you needed him the most; he was teasing you in the worst way possible. you whined again. this time pushing your hips up toward him hoping he’d finally eat you out. instead, he pinned your hips down to the mattress.

“relax,” joe said.

he moved his hands back between your legs. this time though, he used his calloused fingertips to spread your lips, “i know i say it all the time. but fuck baby, your pussy is so fucking pretty.”

your cheeks warmed at the dirty compliment. although you didn’t really get a chance to fully bask in it because he was pushing one of his long fingers inside of your pussy. your walls fluttered happily around it, sucking it in with urgency. he added another finger, scissoring you open for his dick. he brought his lips to your clit to give it a soft kiss and you felt electricity shoot through your body. he took the swollen bud between his lips, sucking on it. your hands went to push his head deeper into your needy pussy.

“that feels good, joey,” you hummed.

you grind your pussy all over his tongue, using his mouth to bring yourself to an orgasm. joe laid there pliantly, letting you use him because he loved the way you looked right now. he hooked his fingers inside of you, his mouth still busy pleasuring your clit. you whined out, your chest rising and falling in a quick pattern that made joe aware of how close you were to cumming.

“oh my fucking god!” you cried out. you dug your nails into your boyfriends shoulders as your orgasm came crashing down. you squeezed around his fingers as you creamed all over them.

you relaxed into the plush sheets of the bed, completely in awe of how quickly you had just come undone. you didn’t know why you were still in shock after all this time. joe knew your body. he knew what made you tick. what made you cum all over him with just a few measly pumps of his fingers and flicks of his tongue.

“taste yourself,” he said, bringing his cream-covered fingers to your lips. you opened your mouth and sucked his fingers clean, moaning at the heady taste of your cum.

“want your dick in me. please,” you begged him. you felt heat pooling in your stomach once more. you were ready to give him however many orgasms that he could coax out of you.

you tugged his briefs down until his dick flopped out. you couldn’t help but to moan at the sight of it. the tip was swollen and red with precum just pooling, waiting to be sucked off. you took one delicate finger and swiped the clear liquid off and promptly placed that same finger in your mouth. joe watched you with hooded eyes, his dick twitching with excitement. you wrapped your much smaller hand around him and began pumping him. you never broke eye contact with him while you jerked him off. you watched as he fell apart from your touch, his eyes glossed over in pure bliss

“that feel good, joey?” you asked him.

“you’re so fucking perfect,” he said for what felt like that millionth time tonight. but each time he said it you felt butterflies float around in your tummy.

“can you fuck me? i’ve been such a good girl,” you said. your voice was so soft and so pretty and so fucking submissive.

joe leaned down to capture your lips in a filthy kiss. he pushed your hand away from his dick, opting for his own to line up at your entrance. inch by inch he pushed into you causing you to gasp against his lips. you were sure you could feel him in your stomach and that feeling alone had tears prickling in the corners of your eyes. joe pulled away from your lips but not before giving you a gentle peck. he started off slow; he rolled his hips coaxing tiny gasps from you when you felt the tip of his dick rub against your sweet spot.

“you’re so tight, mama,” joe said.

“all for you, daddy,” you replied airily, already reeling from how good your boyfriend felt inside of you.

joe let a throaty moan spill past his lips at the nickname before speaking, “i’m gonna make you a mama tonight for real if you don’t chill out.”

“please,” you begged, squeezing around him. “we would make such a pretty baby, joey.”

he closed his eyes to compose himself because he was sure he was gonna break you if he didn’t. he rolled his hips again, knocking any other bratty comments out of your throat. he opened his eyes to see you below him. you looked fucked out: pupils blown wide, lips swollen, and a thin sheen of sweat. joe grabbed hold of your hips to anchor your body to the bed as he began to give you those strokes that had you crying out to him. joe looked down to where your bodies were so beautifully connected to marvel at the creamy ring that began to form.

“fuck…” he trailed, his eyes still transfixed on the obscene sight. “you missed me this much?” he teased you.

you could only give a small nod; you were so lost in the pleasure. but so was joe. his eyes were screwed tight at just how good you felt wrapped around him, so wet, tight, and warm. he fluttered his eyes back open though to look down at you.

“i love you so fucking much,” you told him, voice strained with lust. and fuck, he could’ve knocked you up right there. your big, brown, glossed-over eyes met his and the words that came out of your pretty, kiss-bitten lips next made him stop moving inside of you out of fear that he’d cum too early: “w-wanna have your baby.”

you whined at him. you started moving your own hips to get some type of friction but he stopped your movements.

“you’re gonna make me cum early if you don’t chill out,” joe explained to you. but his words meant nothing to you in that moment and you told him as much.

“but that’s what i want you to do, daddy,” you said. “want you to cum in me, please?” you pleaded with the man above you.

“shit,” he mumbled under his breath. he started moving again, this time he was pounding you. your eyes rolled into the back of your head because you could feel his tip bumping against that spot that was gonna make you cream all over his dick.

you couldn’t speak or even think for that matter. the only thing that mattered in that moment was joe. you wrapped your thighs around his waist, pulling him impossibly close just how he had done earlier. you gasped into his ear at how deep you could feel him inside of you. joe buried his face in your neck and nipped at your skin to add another hickey to the already blemished flesh. having sex with him was always like this, full of passion and unadulterated love.

“i love you so fucking much, too,” joe murmured into your neck, replying to your statement from earlier.

your orgasm began to sneak up on you. your tummy began to tingle and you could feel the way your walls started to flutter around joe’s dick. he groaned at the sensation, his hips stuttering when he felt it.

“you gonna cum, baby?” he asked you. you didn’t have to answer because the way you felt wrapped around him gave him all the confirmation he needed. “cum for me and i promise i’ll give you a baby.”

that’s all it took for you to let that band in your belly snap and your orgasm wash over you, “fuck, joey! fuck!” were the only words you could say as your walls spasmed around him. almost simultaneously, joe let his own orgasm take over. rope after rope of his seed filled you to the brim, making good on his promise to at least try to get you pregnant.

“you’re so fucking perfect.”

#ten writes 🐅#joe burrow x black reader #joe burrow x you #joe burrow fic #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow smut #joe burrow fluff #joey burrow #joe burrow #joey b

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pinkmirth · 2 years ago

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i need more cowboi reiner tryna knock u up pls 🥺 👉 👈

⸻ STUFFED!

SYNOPSIS ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ reiner just can’t seem to control how hungry he is for you. what better way to make you his than by stuffing you full of him?

CONTAINS ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ ( 2.5k+ words of . . . ) cowboy!reiner x fem!reader (black coded), nsfw/smut, modern au, countryside setting, established relationship, reiner has a big fat breeding kink, sex flashbacks, doggie style, standing sex, creampie, use of pet names (ex. mama, sugar, honey), reader calls reiner ‘papa’, mentions of pregnancy, lowercase intended, explicit language, minors shoo!

MY LOVE NOTE! ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ it’s undeniable that cowboy reiner’s got a raging breeding kink. thanks so much for sending in your thoughts, my love! now here’s rei-rei bein’ a shameless feen for his pretty girl! 🎀

reiner’s terribly distracted.

the last thing he wants to do is lay blame, but in a way, you’re the reason why. the mere thought of you is enough to make this cowboy go buckwild. rei-rei swears he usually has more self control, it’s just that you strip him of all common sense.

you, pretty little you, make him all scatterbrained. his head’s been filled with nothing but romantics and vulgarities ever since he took you on a date seven months ago. you’ve turned him into some fool in love, for goodness’ sake.

memories of last night’s escapades come to mind. his mouth practically waters when remembering your plush ass; how you tossed it onto his pelvis with an arching back and swaying tits, peering at him with the sultriest smile, not to mention those glimmering bedroom eyes of yours. he recalls having to hold you still, so you wouldn’t be able to squirm away if his pounding were to become too much. you were soft, he remembers, so soft. the flesh of your hips would squish beneath the imposing pressure of his callous fingers, digging tighter into your sides whenever you’d flutter around the girth of him. he remembers the way he came inside with a rumbly moan, leaving your pussy full and the sheets wet . . . he wants to do it all over again.

with all that’s going on in that perverse little mind of his, he can hardly bring himself to focus on feeding the cattle. the only thing that can solve his problem is its source; you. and just like that, reiner’s dropping whatever he’d been doing before. his chores can surely wait, but this surge of desire can’t be overlooked. not a thing matters as much as finding you, fucking you, filling you.

he rounds the barn, passes by the apple trees and the horse stables in search of you. his cock pulses with every step, prodding stubbornly against the soft cotton of his boxers, now smeared with sticky precum. reiner brings a hand down to provide himself some relief, palming his boner with a low grunt. he’s so fucking hard that it almost hurts. that’s what he gets for fantasizing about you for the past thirty minutes and doing nothing about it until now.

with heavy steps, reiner makes his entrance into the farmhouse and is met by the sight of you lounging in the living room. you’re seated on the floral-print recliner with your pedicured toes propped up, all nice and comfortable. you’re wearing the dainty string of pearls he bought you for your birthday earlier in the year. pride flushes throughout his chest when seeing how prettily it rests on your collarbone.

you greet your man with a glossy smile, one that makes his dick throb beneath his hay-specked coveralls. reiner wonders if you’ve taken note of just how red he looks, rosy heat scattered across his face, from the highs of his cheekbones to the tips of his ears. he can feel his skin blazing with complete and total need.

reiner elicits a weak mumble of ‘hey, sugar. . .’, a stark contrast to your tone being all light and cheery as you ramble on about the cute little mini-skirt you’re crocheting for yourself. ‘since the weather’s getting warmer,’ you chime.

reiner loves you. he really, truly does, but he simply isn’t in the headspace to pay mind to the mundane task you’re occupied with at the moment— not when he’s this close to tearing off your summer dress, bending you over, peeling himself out of his spurred boots and pumping you full of every drop of cum he has to offer. fuck, he’s breathing harder now. gradually, he feels his resolve slip.

“you alright, honey?” you set down your crocheting hook, staring up at him with big, curious eyes. your voice, soft and consoling, grounds him just a little. reiner pulls off his signature cowboy hat, sets it on the nearby coffee table, and ruffles his hair so it falls into place. “yeah, i’m just—“ a pause amidst his sigh. truthfully, he’s here because he wants to fuck you pregnant. “i wanted t’see you, is all.” he settles on saying that instead. it’s much sweeter, all the more more romantic. less fetish-y. you probably would’ve looked at him funny if he admitted to crossing the entire farm by foot just so he could fill you up.

“aw, rei! you were missin’ me?” you laugh out of flattery. oh, your reiner. he’s so sweet in his own right. your boyfriend wants to ‘see you’, as he claims, like he hadn’t woken you up with nibbles to your neck, taken a (somewhat long, fairly busy) shower with you this morning, and ate breakfast alongside you before heading off to tend to the farm. you assume he can’t help but cling to you and want more.

it’s sudden, but welcomed, how reiner closes in on you. he draws near like a magnet, until the space between you no longer exists. he’s crouching down to the level of the chair, hovering over you to press a kiss on your lips. “mhm. missed you so bad, mama,” he mumbles against your mouth. in reply, you whisper onto his lips, something about how he’s always ‘so eager.’ he leans into you, desperate for more, and the chair creaks underneath the addition of his weight. he’s a large man, anyone can tell. his brawny build and imposing height never fail to make you feel safe underneath him.

reiner dips his head low and plants one, two, three sloppy kisses along your warm neck, and it gets you hotter than the southern heat. he leaves saliva in his wake, trailed by the lightest of bruises from his suctioning lips. he tries to undo your clothes and his, but the small space that this decade-old chair provides won’t allow for it. besides, it wouldn’t be wise of him to make you squirt on a family heirloom. “this won’t do,” he clicks his teeth, decidingly picking you up. your legs wrap around his torso like second nature, arms circled around the back of his muscular neck.

“reiii, baby wait!” you draw out the call of his name, but all it does is coax him further. can’t you tell that your voice is only making him harder? that your whines urge him to fuck you silly?

“wait?” he reiterates, grinding up into your clothed core. you shudder upon contact. “what for?” from beneath the denim he wears, you can feel his stiffness poke against your flimsy panties. “don’t you wanna head to bed first, honey? hm?” you whine into his neck. it takes a good eight seconds for him to respond.

“uh-uh,” reiner gives you a half-hearted grunt, with his gaze fixed on your cleavage that the low neckline of your dress presents to him. obviously, he’s interested in other things. “here’s just fine, sugar.” he’s strong enough to fuck you standing up with nothing else supporting him, and you know that. he doesn’t need a goddamn mattress.

reiner’s large hands grab at your underside, using your ass as the perfect leverage to press you close to him. this is your third time fucking this week, and it’s only tuesday. you’d mention it, but he’s too busy kissing down the valley of your breasts. impatience seeps through his every movement, from how he grasps at your thighs to keep you upright, to eagerly feeling along your lower half like it’s his first time touching your body.

“slow down, rei.” begrudgingly, reiner removes his lips from your chest. he finally calms for just a moment, so that he can meet your beautiful eyes. your face has been overtaken by a subtle pout. “m’sorry, honey,” he murmurs between a deep kiss, all wet and tongue-filled. you assume that’s supposed to be his form of an apology. his toned arm re-fastens itself around your body, holding you tight, while the other bunches up your dress and pushes down his bottoms, “but i need you. so fuckin’ bad.” you could never deny him and that sweet southern drawl. he knows that his smooth mouth works magic on you— he always gets what he wants from his pretty girl.

now freed of any confines, reiner lowers his hand to stroke at the base of his dick, tugging himself with a low hiss. involuntarily, his hips buck. “you can finish up that skirt later, hm?” he releases himself and appoints his attention to you, the pads of his fingers circling your clit in just the way you like. your head falls forward onto his broad shoulder. “hell, i’ll even buy you some o’those frilly ones at that fancy mall you like goin’ to . . .” he utters partially to you and a little to himself, still occupied with keeping pressure on your bud. by now, with your head thrown back, you’ve already forgotten what you were working on in the first place.

having done this countless times before, reiner’s quickly able to find your dripping entrance. the drag of his tip through your puffy folds causes a ‘shlck’ sound to elicit. reiner smiles to himself; you’re embarrassingly wet. your hips begin to swivel and writhe, that’s how he knows you’re getting as needy as he. choosing not to waste any more time, he pushes himself inside with one swift motion. you cry out from the stretch, already fluttering around the first few inches he gives you. so far, it's just the tip and some, but he's so wide.

“goddamnit, baby . . . i fuckin’ love this pussy,” reiner grunts through clenched teeth. he’d usually start off with a shallow thrust and ease you into it, but he isn’t feeling as patient. every thrust is fast-paced, almost rushed. the impact has you bouncing in his arms, all as he continues his unrelenting efforts.

“s’good, rei— so good,” wavering moans spill past your lips. he hisses when your manicured nails dig into the hot flesh of his firm, round biceps. you squeeze around him until his eyes go rolling back. “i know, mama. i know,” reiner whines and groans, because it’s all he can manage to do. if he was air-headed about you earlier, surely he’s braindead now. he pumps into you rapidly, restlessly, but he still finds a way to make it feel so thorough. that’s probably because he’s fucking huge; incredibly endowed, like every other big and buff part of him. with a cock this thick, how could he not strike every nerve and hit every spot?

he rolls his hips up into you with breathtaking fervor, fucks into you until he’s balls deep within your pulsating cunt. sweat dripping down his furrowed brow, he rasps out, “can’t wait to fill you up,” sloppy kisses follow, and his tongue slides across yours as he mumbles on about cumming inside, stuffing you full, making you his. you finally know what he’s doing, you should’ve known all along— he’s going to pump his cum into you as deep as he can get it to go. thrust his seed into your pliant womb until he’s fucked a baby into you.

the mere thought of makin’ you a mama has his head spinning. reiner’s breath catches in his throat, and your sounds heighten in pitch— the pair of you can tell that you’re bound to reach ecstasy. he squats a bit lower, goes a little faster, attempting to propel you both into your orgasms. it’s coming on like an impending wave; your belly tightens, toes curling from where your heels dig into reiner’s strong back.

he knows you’ve come undone once your smooth, ridge-like walls begin to spasm around him, to the point where he can hardly pull back or push in further. he likes to think that it’s your pretty pussy’s way of begging for his cum. still, he doesn’t let up, not until you’re thoroughly impregnated. “jus’ a lil more. hold on ‘fa me, honey, m’kay?” he pleads through throaty whimpers. weakly, you nod. the overstim makes you pant and mewl, biting onto the damp skin of his exposed jugular to try and quiet yourself.

reiner slams you down onto him, the veins in his forearms bulging as he desperately grasps onto the globes of your ass. the resounding slap of skin rings around his tingling ears, lewd sounds floating throughout the otherwise quiet farmhouse.

“g’na let papa fill you up? yeah?” you cry out a weak ‘mhm!’ along with other pleas of how much you want it; want him. his balls twitch and his abdomen goes tense. “m'close,” he gruffly whispers. you decide to spur him on: “g-gimme your babies, papa, i need it!” that’s all he needs to topple over the edge. “oh fuck, mama— m’gonnacum,” reiner’s words jumble together when he comes, coating your insides with warm globs of white. though his thighs never cease their trembling, he still maintains a steady hold on you, keeping your limp frame upright.

reiner stays inside as a means of keeping all his seed plugged into you, just for good measure. he doubts that he’s got enough energy remaining to round up the cattle after this. his chest heaves slowly, and his hair’s a mess from all that pulling you were doing, but he’s more than satisfied. he's even got this dumb, blissed-out smile on his face to show his content. you're sure he's knocked you up thoroughly by now.

he’ll make sure to buy you a pregnancy test by next morning.

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