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kooyabooya · 2 months ago

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LUTHER

lia x m reader

4k words

It’s a silly rational thought, but common knowledge nonetheless:

You are madly in love with Choi Jisu.

Not even the strands of time could weave a better, clichè story of what’s already been set in stone; or the countless times Lia has made herself home in the throes of your hideaway from the world, every new story and encounter with it’s twist through each shared moment.

Sure, there’s a lot of instances that you and her can recall back on, so let’s gloss over a few:

The first time you invited her presence was for a study session. You insisted that the spaghetti tasted good until realizing that the pesto had expired by three weeks - where she had to stay over for the night unintentionally because you couldn’t even manage to get up to the bathroom. Though, one ice pack to the forehead and the magnetizing hug was more than enough for you to ignore the fact she snagged your lacrosse team hoodie as for her keepsake - hood drawn up and pooling her raven locks to the sides of her face, the hems covering her most of her hand but her fingers exposed - you can’t deny that she looked comfy.

Among the other times, you’re just in your apartment, serenading her with your okay-but-presentable piano skills of covers from her favorite movies. (She had to make you hers when you played La La Land but it sealed the deal.) Not long after that, some of her things start to make their way into your place: the violin case, the scent of cherry blossoms spreading from room to room, and the collection of vinyls hung up in the living room. You don’t complain. There wasn’t a point in saying anything. Lia would disappear from your peripheral for a few minutes and come back with her cropped black tee and your pair of oversized sweats that cover her toes. So yeah, there's no point in drawing up a complaint.

It’s all in the little moments; living within these four walls - filled with memories and moments that you don’t want the rest of the world to see, her on your lap while you’re dealing with deliverables and other times where she’s bringing food for you and her to share. That’s usually how this all goes. Some of the tasks get completed, then you tab out to see what else is left to do, and Lia waltzes in terrorizing the productivity bubble. She doesn’t care because she knows what the fuck she’s doing: cocoa butter hair in messy waves, fixing the watch on her wrist, talking about her schedule for the day. Doing her wasn’t on the to-do list, but was heavily implied, considering the fact you saw her up with nothing but your sweats while making breakfast.

Technically speaking from common knowledge:

This isn’t the first time you’ve seen Lia in your clothes.

You could conjure up all the thoughts in your mind as to why you liked seeing her that way.

–

If you’re being completely honest with yourself, it’s always a wonderful sight to see.

Morning sunlight beams through the curtains as she walks past the open doorway; the highlights alone are trapped in this mixture of honey gold and coffee brown, presenting itself like a Renaissance painting coming to life. One second your vision focuses on the blurry silhouette, the next your eyes are greeted with a fever dream, blessing and inviting all the same.

You’re pinching yourself mentally - just to check - and yes, it is most definitely not a dream. Her eyes stay on you, shifting yourself up until you’re against the headboard of your bed, soaking the image of her: perfectly colored with those dirt-colored eyes and rose-tinted cheeks, radiating so brightly that the worry of drying up your eyes comes as a second thought.

There’s nothing new about this: just the usual lazy Saturday mornings you’ve shared with her.

She sighs so beautifully, having no care in the world. The flutter of her eyelashes is so seamless when her arms are raised up over her head, stretching out the stiffness of those springy limbs and muscles.

You’ve spent countless days, hours, nights even, to piece it all together in everything that revolves around Lia. From the mannerisms and tone she uses with others the readable expressions just by the small quirk of her lip or flared nostrils. Lia proudly wore her heart on her sleeve. You learned right away: a bit overwhelming was the coined phrase you proclaimed. Building each other up where others fell a little behind in: always thinking ahead, taking all of the things into consideration; and Lia was in the same headspace as you, strategizing wherever she saw fit.

But it didn’t take much for you to conclude on the fact that confidence was a weakness.

She was flooding in it, wherever she went. Whatever she wanted, she would get. If things didn’t go her way, she accepted it fully. She’ll happily walk past the open door held by you - not as an expectation, but as one of the many things you’d put an effort into. When you take her out for a date, she’ll show up outside your workplace and return the favor. You snuggle your face deeper into the pillows on a lazy day; because you know that she’s not far, either close by or already up to start the day.

As if the heavens parted the clouds for you after a gloomy day riddled with darkness, you’re pretty sure the same effect is applied here.

She’s in your hoodie (as always). However that doesn’t stop the unveiling of skin little by little the more she does these morning stretches, the fabric at the waistline lifted up to where you see her hips, cast in the cotton of her underwear. You can picture yourself thumbing away at the surface, at the ends where the threads don’t meet, cup your palms shamelessly around the plush of her ass, or even watch her slip on a pair of your pajama pants with her backside blatantly pointed towards your direction.

Okay, she knows what she’s doing. You’ve been in this position for over three years, and you’re still finding out new things to discover.

She clears her throat once she turns around.

“What’s on your mind right now?”

You lean your head back when Lia starts to shuffle herself back onto the bed, hands and legs moving until she finally settles her bearings, straddling your hips.

“Not work, obviously,” you answer, feeling her palms on your face as she tips her head, studying. “I just don’t wanna get out of bed just yet.”

“Funny,” Lia laughs, slipping her fingers behind your neck, “I was just thinking the same thing.”

“Pretty weird, isn’t it? It’s like we share half of a brain.”

“Except when you were drooling over me a second ago.”

“How could I not?” you muse, darting your eyes away, feeling your face get warmer. “If anything, you bent your ass over for me to see on purpose.”

She tilts her head, and quirks her lips near a grin, she doesn’t need to give you an explanation.

You’re speaking your truth for her.

Her hips press down on your groin, curling her fingers into the ends of your hair, feeling you squirm in the slight change of pressure. “You don’t have to be shy,” voice low and gentle, “I know you, you’re enjoying this.” You see her hand pull the hem of the hoodie upwards, revealing more and more of her waist - ghosting your hands at the uncovered skin; amidst the grey, you’re fighting to urge to pierce the veil, get your palms full of skin and feel and touch up like she wants you to.

“What do you suggest I do, hm?” You ask Lia, tone flat. “Nothing?” Playing on the backfoot in this wasn’t the ideal scenario, but you’re doing what you can to be literal and indirect, “Because I was hoping that you wouldn’t notice.”

But you see: all of that could’ve been plausible if you didn’t sit up on the bed in the first place.

You’re mapping out her face in the back of your mind, imagining the hands wandering all over her legs and hips and waist - admiring the bodywork and fine planes of porcelain, all within arm's reach.

Her breath grazes your cheek, practically turning you to stone. Some thoughts are present in your mind; you’re not sure. The only thing filling your senses was the scent of wintergreen.

Her palm lightly presses into your cheekbone, leaning in for a kiss, but stopping herself by mere centimeters.

Fills the space between the mouths, saying: “I was hoping that you’d do something about it.”

Oh, she knows what the fuck she’s doing.

Lia has kissed you like- countless times. There’s the sweet ones, the ones where you’re both smiling into each other’s faces, the ones where you think time stands still for a few moments, the kinds where you’ve got a bubble entrapping you two, and so much more. All of them have their meanings behind them, but they make you melt all the same.

You could feel her hands roam around your body, legs pressing your hips on opposite ends; every smack and inhale is followed up with a low rumble at the throat, hands shifting up from her waist up to her chest; her forehead pressed against yours, clutching her shoulder blades, keeping her place - she has your full attention now.

A swipe of the thumb across her nipple, then a pinch. The hoodie rucks up higher on her body.

Her arms come into play, speeding up the process of cotton being discarded.

Lia is your block of marble - waiting to be molded and chiseled and chipped away - crafted by yours truly where you’ll get on your knees in adoration and give your reverence as you proffer your lips and tongue all over her body.

She’s so easy to gratify - the way that her sighs and moans mesh into one sound or another, feeling the heat rise in her body. You can tell she’s trying to hold back, murmuring in tongues. Like she’s showing but not telling: I need you baby. I need, I need, I need, I need, I need-

It’s like you - all of you - is oxygen to her, giving her life where she would die if she didn’t have enough. It’s never enough, and you know this. In the cosmos that lie behind those melted shades of sable, glassy, and an ever-growing pit of blackness, where you could see yourself falling into them time and time again because they were only exclusive to you. A forgotten light, an eternal flame, you catch yourself face to face with it once more.

The flush of light crimson makes its presence known across Lia’s face: a response to your touch, one that she simply can’t ignore.

You could feel the dampness of her panties lightly settle on the bulge of your underwear, hear her breath hitch just the slightest, all the while her hips grind against yours.

“Yeah,” she hushes, a sultry smile spread across her lips. “You prefer this over the usual caffeine.”

She laughs softly when you groan into her neck, her arms coiling around your neck and shoulders, tightening the noose. Your hand slithers past her lower back, fingers grazing the lace and sliding underneath the uncovered skin. “Always,” you tell her, looking up while she scratches the back of your head: your one of three weaknesses.

Lia then leans away, crosses her hands at her waist, gripping the hoodie.

When she lifts it- that image becomes your second weakness.

You keep looking without hesitation; the fine line of her shoulders, the blotches of red and pink across the canvas, deliciously sweet. Her breasts supple, but have a firmness to them (a guilty pleasure, you’ll admit); she runs her nails across those mounds because she knows that you’ll get your hands full of them soon, get greedy enough to forget about the rest.

“Aw, what’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” she asks with a coo. Then, gets her thumb and index underneath your chin, tilting your gaze up. “You’ve gone quiet.”

“Were you always this cute?” you muse.

“You know me.”

“Allow me to rephrase,” you’re backtracking, because you just want to hear it yourself. “Were you always this sexy?”

That earns you a firm grind against your length.

And now, she’s laying it down for real: “I’ll make you shut up if that’s what you want.”

–

Here’s weakness number three:

Lia has your legs spread apart, laying on her stomach, tracing a finger along the grooves and veins of your cock, mesmerized at the mere taste of your balls across her tongue. You’ve got your deal in, grinding her sopping folds along your shaft just as a tease - a preamble. Her hair’s tied up in a loose ponytail as she makes her way up the length, pouting her lips at the tip - anticipating the image of your cockhead sealed around her pretty little mouth - how to suck the air out of your lungs with just one swift motion - she’ll relish the moment, savor it - make you forget all of your worries with one decent.

She has you wrapped around the palm of her hand, literally. And somehow, it feels like you were meant to be-

You could feel the graze of her teeth the more she takes you in, the subtle leitmotif of her humming the more you feel her mouth all over, creating a pantomime of dancing and singing along your length, bringing out all the things that make you speechless.

It’s when she has you like this, where everything just feels right.

“Good?” you could hear her say, but her cheek is bulging with your cock up inside where the sound comes less coherent, but those eyes implicate the message regardless.

“Fuck,” you rasp, feeling her teeth graze just right beneath the tip. She’s got you good. She always has.

You’ve got the rough schematic drawn up in your brain. Testing the waters with a gentle thrust of your hips, shoving her head down deeper where she can struggle just a bit. It won’t take you much to make you cum like this. You imagine her saying - all she needs is to soften you up and next thing you know her palms are sliding down from your chest to your thighs. The gentle cup of your balls in her other hand, puts your length in the prime position to fit you in her throat.

She purses her lips forward, trying to cover the base. It’s cute that she can try, but she makes up for it by flicking her tongue on the underside - at the seam - and yeah, your head hits the board behind you.

Lia is the only one who could practically kill you and give you a second chance at redemption.

Knowing that you’ll take that second chance to return the favor properly.

But this is her turn in the chess match. You actually can’t do anything about it.

She crosses her ankles up in the air, sinks her head between your legs again, maintaining tempo. Her hands come into play, doing all kinds of combinations with her mouth and tongue, lapping up the mix of spit and precum.

You are going to lay there and watch.

Her eyes flooded with determination.

Your cock in my mouth, my hands.

The slide of her mouth is addicting.

Try your hardest not to cum.

She’s fucking unreal.

And not even that-

“I want more spit.” Lia declares, both hands on you now, jerking shamelessly with the classic motion that makes you paralyzed from the waist down. Her knees dig deeper into the mattress, raising her body, head now hovering over your cock.

“Go ahead,” you grit, smiling. A moment of grace - to breathe; you know where she’s leading with this. “I’d love to see you try.”

That phrase alone would be your undoing.

Lia puts you right back into her mouth, with no regard for keeping it lighthearted and casual. The grip in her hair becomes a lot tighter, flexing your hips up while her tongue becomes flatter. You’re biting down a curse spilling from your lips, ears focusing on the unholy sounds coming from Lia instead.

She’s not playing around now - mouth slipping and sliding, humming and moving her head in the many ways where you’ve seen your vision turn white before.

You can’t keep this up for any longer.

The head down, head up, the shimmying of her head, puffing her cheeks, cock slathered and wetter by the second-

You pull yourself away, throbbing. The pop of her mouth and gasp is all that she’s left with.

“Hey,” she says, “you weren’t supposed to do that.”

Her ponytail comes undone while the tip of your tongue is caught between your teeth.

All you give her anyway is: “Oops.”

She throws herself onto you, hoping to catch you off guard, but you were ready. Her lips capture yours, wanting to clean up the mess she made over your cock just now, each lick and smack becoming more and more careless in every liplock.

Your hands find her waist while Lia also looks down at the action. “Need to do something about that, don’t we?” She tells you, grabbing your length and dipping your head into her cunt, making both of you groan in unison. “Fuck-”

“Lia, watch yourself,” you huff, jaw slacking when she slides herself in properly this time; the tightness and heat already washing over you while Lia shifts her panties more to the side. “Okay, holy shit girl.”

To keep your mind off of the unrelenting pressure of her cunt wrapped around your dick, you’re leaving chaste kisses across her chest yet again, feeling her fingers card through your hair and dig into your scalp, the shimmy of her pussy finally stopping once she bottoms you out.

She’s laying it out for you again: “You’re gonna fuck my brains out now, okay handsome?”

Your response is in tandem with her breathless state: “Oh, with pleasure.”

The girl just takes and takes and takes. You could feel her smile on top of your forehead when you feel up her breast, slide your hand down her waist, grip her petite ass while she slams her hips back down on your cock.

You’re gripping wherever you can: her waist, her hips, her ass. Any place where you can fuck around with the vice for as much as possible, fucking her senseless like she worked you up to be.

It’s in the forward-back, the up-down. Her ass isn’t kind to your balls when she’s riding along your length.

This was the best way to wake up in the morning.

Lia’s happily bouncing along on your lap - with you trying to keep up with the pulling of your neck, the tugs in your hair, holding her still where you got your cock at the angle to bring it to her cunt’s hottest, molten spot.

She’s so tight, you conclude, that evidence is pretty natural in itself. You love it so much when she’s not making any sense in her words, only plugging up her pussy in the only way you know how-

“Want it,” she whispers, a profession: “inside, please.”

You’re holding her so close, keeping her in place. It’s a one-way ticket to paradise that you’ll take no matter what; the unraveling - so lethal, and an absolute certainty. The bruises are starting to form along the crease of her legs and hips-

You’re laying it out for her now: “I’m cumming.”

Pumping her full, riding out her orgasm. Everything made sense for Lia in that instant.

Strings of cum painting along her slick walls, claiming the last threads for herself - because that’s how it all goes. You’re shuddering, live wire still reactive, hungry for more as the pulsing starts to die down; slowly, lethargically.

A few beats later-

“Fucking Christ, Lia-”

She laps your cock on the bathroom floor; face painted and splattered in ribbons of white, back against the door as the mat at your feet tries its hardest to not slide against the tile.

She licks up the mess while humming gleefully, looks up at you in sweet and treacherous innocence.

She looks down at the cum dripping down her chest, her waist, and even the spread of slick all over her inner thighs-

You don’t mind lazy mornings like these.

(To contradict yourself: they’re never lazy.)

–

The place gets filled up once again with Lia’s honey-saccharine voice, coming out of the hallway with a towel draped over her shoulders.

You give her a look: the same one where no words need to be said to describe the moment - because it’s a look that she’s seen multiple times - and she can easily read your mind.

The look of love. You have it. And so does she.

Lia later rambles on at the dining table about her recent outings and extravaganza's with Yeji or Yuna, fingers underneath her chin and swirling a spoon around her cup of tea. She looks at you with so much attention, eyes shimmering and nodding along while the morning light starts to creep through the window of your living room. You feed her an apple slice to make sure she’s not bored - she loves that.

In moments like these, you’re thankful that it’s shared with her. From her arms bracketing your hips while you clean the dishes, to piggybacking her back to your room, make her land on her back while she laughs and playfully whines like a kid. You shake your head because any response you say will always get brushed off by her.

It really doesn’t matter what’s being brought up, since things just flow that way so well you don’t even have a second thought after.

“You really went at it with me earlier,” she tells you. “Care to explain why?”

“Well,” you’re grinning cheekily, hand to the back of your head, “Didn’t have time to relieve myself in the past week so-”

“Uh-huh.”

“Guilty.” you finally amend.

Lia knows the best parts about you; knows exactly how and where to apply the pressure in the points you’re most vulnerable at. She’s got her fingers and knuckles in every little nook and cranny in your brain. It’s impossible to fight against.

You could say you’ve got the same regard for her too.

She’s sweet, witty, cocky when it counts, well knowledgeable, and has these sparkles in her eyes where you don’t mind stargazing for hours on end. The overall vibe she presents is so cozy, embracing you to a point where you’d be happy to settle and fall asleep in her arms because you can.

There's no place she would rather be than in your arms, feet on top of yours, slowly dancing even if there isn’t any music playing.

Another tender moment shared: you’ll take it for a keepsake, knowing more of those will come along the way.

Nothing more wholesome could ever be like this: the gentle nose bumps, shared smiles, the quick kisses in each others’ ears. It’s straight out of a classic romance novel or movie -or, even when you’re imagining it’s just the two of you center stage at a jazz club and the band’s playing a slow ballad.

Cheek to cheek you are with Choi Jisu - you’ll want to hold her close for eternity.

“Wanna stay inside for today?”

(Here, you’re probably laughing because Lia was already a homebody, so it’s pretty ironic.)

“We’re already here, so why not?”

#itzy smut #lia smut #kpop smut #male reader smut #kpop x male reader #itzy lia #itzy lia smut #kpop fanfic

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wandagcre · 1 year ago

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it's a trap (when you act like that) | wanda maximoff 🔞

(College!Perv!Best friend Wanda Maximoff x Innocent!Fem Reader)

You cannot quite relate to the topic of pleasure. Being introverted and shy, your circle of people was limited, but you're more than grateful that Wanda - your best friend - is always there to help you out.

WARNING: corruption kink, pillow riding, first times, fingering, praise, wanda talking you through it - not proofread +18 / men & minors dni. Words: 4.2k

[perv!wanda series] | [masterlist]

For an hour, you settled on reading in comfortable silence with your best friend. Wanda laid on your lap comfortably, unlike you, she gave up skimming on her notes a few minutes ago.

You giggle each time you catch her gaze on you. It was inquisitive and sometimes Wanda made silly faces. Thoughtful as ever, she’d pop in some candy in your mouth.

Her auburn hair grew out – instead, her brunette tresses were back. It was tempting for you the way they were sprawled out, wanting to comb them with your fingers and drop your notes – only having to listen to what stories your best friend would tell.

Lately, you noticed it’s been hard to be around Wanda. You can no longer hold her gaze than usual and you physically want to be closer to her – which was no problem because your best friend was always attentive and touchy with you.

“Have you been working out? Look at these thighs,” You sharply inhaled as you felt fingertips, running feather-like on your skin. Wanda caught the act and it made her giggle softly.

You shyly shook your head. “N-no. I haven’t.”

She seemed not to buy your response. It’s the truth. Even if you indulged in some exercises, your workout routine was not strict about any type of weight lifting. Not like you had the time and all. In fact, it was one of the things that sometimes pulled you into your insecure thoughts, thinking that you’ve got an unattractive pair.

However, Wanda loves them as they were. She liked it when you got experimental with your wardrobe, changing it up with some short skirts that highlighted your legs and its curves. More so with your comfort in plain shorts, as it rewarded your best friend more of its exposure.

What Wanda didn’t like was winter and how it took away the sight of your gorgeous thighs.

You insisted, “I’m serious! If you consider getting food from the top and bottom shelf of the fridge as squatting, then, my answer is yes.”

“Well, they look good to me. Keep it up.” Wanda playfully remarked. You chuckled lightly, not trusting your voice at the moment. “Want me to pull away?”

Her voice was hypnotizing – insanely soothing. Almost like a balm, you’d say. Enough to make you re-read the damn sentence on your notes because you barely understood them. It doesn’t help that she kept her ministrations – tracing circular patterns that ascend to your inner thighs, causing goosebumps to wake.

“Took me by surprise, that's all. You can keep doing that if you want.”

“Is it relaxing?” Wanda whispered.

You shudder a bit and it made you scuffle in your position. “Kinda like you playing with my hair…”

Wanda was amused. You briefly wondered what was the joy in this – riling you up in some way. Were your reactions too entertaining? She had always been full of mischief, but lately, hanging out with your best friend made you…tense. It was not uncomfortable in a way that her actions burned, maybe they did, but in a different context. A realm you’ve never touched on – spurring you to confusion furthermore.

Her forefinger grazed over the space between your eyebrows. “What’s got you all so worked up, honey? You got this crease going on – you’re too tense. Wanna take a break?”

“Okay, yeah. That sounds nice.” You gave in. You couldn’t even process them anyway.

You still appeared as bothered from Wanda’s point of view. She moved away from laying down between your thighs, looking at you who refused to meet her eyes. She was growing concerned. Had she overstepped this time?

Wanda was clueless. “Are you seeing someone?”

You looked incredulously at the woman.

“That’s out of the blue, Wands.”

“Can’t blame a girl for asking, (y/n/n). You’re usually reserved, I get that, but lately you seem to be always in deep thought? You know I can help, right?”

“I-I want to tell you but it can get weird.”

“Weird? Baby, we’ve known each other for years. How worse can it possibly get?” Wanda asked incredulously. Now she was concerned.

There’s nothing to hide. Wanda had a point, you thought.

You whisper, “Lately, um. I-I’ve been trying to discover something.”

“Okay…” Wanda hummed, eyes focused on your lips.

You weren’t hesitant out of fear of being judged, but you didn’t know where your boundaries stood.

Although, you remember how Wanda was so thoughtful that every time you bought some undies, she volunteers to come along and when you ask for her opinion, she carefully takes time to examine them.

You remember her fingers tracing along the seams, making you turn around, asking for permission to touch so she can examine the material further around your butt and how it clung to your hips. They shouldn’t be tight, Wanda said.

“And it’s about pleasure. You know, that stuff.” You flail your hands. Can this get more embarrassing?

Meanwhile, Wanda was absolutely having the time of her life. She couldn't believe that this was happening. Of course, as the role of best friend, she would be very ecstatic to lead you.

She starts with a lilt of teasing in voice. “Sorry, honey, but there’s many things that can go around the topic of pleasure. I’m going to need you to elaborate.”

Poor you, didn’t even catch up to her teasing. You had enough.

“Touching the southern part!” You blurt out.

“Oh!”

“Yeah,”

“Huh.” Wanda looked inquisitive. Her head tilted to the side in faux wonder. In truth, she was thinking of ways to help you – defile you in this very bed – if she’s sly enough.

You groaned. Maybe this was a bad idea.

“See, now it’s weird. I shouldn’t have-”

“No, no. It’s not weird. In fact, it’s normal to be curious about that. What’s your problem with it?”

“I don’t think I’m doing it right. I feel bad because I heard discussions about it – overheard some girls from my class. It’s all the hype I can’t get onto– I just don’t seem to get there–”

You were rambling all things at once. Wanda had to process the thought of you touching yourself and getting frustrated, of course you wouldn’t know. You needed her – someone to get through it.

And Wanda was more than willing to step up.

With a glint in her eye, she suggests, “Want me to help you?”

Were you hearing things right? Surely, you misheard Wanda. Your mind couldn’t wrap the thought of it. How on earth can she help you? Maybe she’ll write them down or give you a video that wasn’t too explicit as porn. She knew that you hated them, after all.

“You–won’t that be weird between us? And how?”

“Don’t even think about that. It’s me, honey. You can always count on me. Even about these types of situations. Do you trust me?”

You answered in a heartbeat. “More than anyone.”

“Good. What do you think, do you wanna get started?”

Right now? Your eyes widened. But there won’t be another time, you suppose. “Shit. Okay, yeah, sure.”

“We’ll take things slow, hm?” She bit her lip, trying to contain her excitement. Seeing you all bare for her – Wanda might as well cum at the mere thought of it. The way you nodded attentively made her stomach flip. “We’re going to test the waters. Since you’re having trouble with your fingers, we can do that later. Maybe we’ll try a different approach.”

Your cheeks burned at Wanda’s elaborate plan. “O-okay. I’ll listen to you.”

Wanda purses her lips and moves closer to you. You looked apprehensive, but not as much previously. Good.

“Have you ever heard about riding a pillow?”

“N-no…” You meekly answered. Porn was straight to the point. Too uncomfortable for your liking. It was penetration and done. You tried watching one or two, then that was it – you never thought about revisiting and looking further beyond that. “That’s a thing?”

Wanda, however, couldn’t help but scoot closer to you. How she was very elated to hear this – the woman couldn’t wait to introduce more things to you in the future, to be the one showing you the ropes of it.

“Yes it is. Some find it very rewarding. It’s so easy. ” She supplements.

Out of curiosity, you cannot filter yourself. “What about you… have you ever?”

“Yeah, I have.” She smoothly replied. Wanda was so self-assured, you can’t help but envy it a little. “And don’t worry, I’ll be guiding you at every step of the way, honey. Exploration of what you like and how it works is nothing to be ashamed of.”

It did the trick for you; Wanda picked up a relief sigh coming out of you. She smiled, rubbing your thighs enough to create a comfortable warmth.

“Use my pillow – don’t worry, it’s easy to get them washed.” Your movements were slow and hesitant, continuously looking back and forth to Wanda’s piercing green eyes and to her pillow innocently hanging at the corner of her bed. Grabbing the item, she shoots you a proud smile. “Now, take your bottoms off for me.”

For Wanda. You felt the heat creep from your stomach, riding in waves, up to your neck and whole face. She nudges you by nodding her head. You’re entirely sure that you’re beyond stunned right now. Discarding your shorts and underwear at the same time, you quickly throw them away and cross your thighs. Wanda’s words being uttered in an authoritative and raunchy manner was enough to make you wet – you didn’t want her to see the proof of that.

“So good. You’re doing so, so well baby.” Wanda licked her bottom lip in anticipation. “Now, flip that pillow by its seams – the edges are an important part of this. Then, just mount it.”

Your heart raced – you can’t believe that this was happening – you’re about to ride a pillow in front of your attractive best friend and she’ll talk you through your first orgasm. Right here in her own cramped bed and pillow. Doing as Wanda says, you spread your legs apart and mounted the pillow that stood by its edges. You gasped at the sensation; it was the softest thing your core has ever touched and it was slightly cold.

Looking back at Wanda, she seemed lost in your center – who wouldn’t be, given this rare opportunity? She always had a crush on you. But you didn’t even notice. Now, your friendship was taken on the next level, she thanked any deity out there for her patience. ((And her power over you right now? It was hard not to revel in that.))

You looked so adorable. Wanda could compare you to bambi right now, especially when you thought you were being sly. She saw the slick forming on your pussy from earlier as you were stripping. It was mouthwatering that it drove Wanda insane, prickling through each nerve of her body.

“What next?” You shakily asked. It was intimidating to have her eyes fixated on you – you couldn’t decipher what was going on behind those green eyes.

“Gyrate your hips. Back and forth, slowly.” Wanda orders with a low voice.

She watches you try to move back and forth at the pillow. Your pussy grazed on the fabric, making your eyes flutter at each soft contact, but it wasn’t enough for your pleasure nor Wanda’s.

She waddled closer and placed her hands firm on your hips. You bite the inside of your cheek, slowing down your motion out of surprise. The least you can do was have an ounce of dignity, you couldn’t moan in front of Wanda.

You sweet thing, Wanda thought. It was evident how desperate you were in your soft and messy thrusts. She was focused on how you moved your hips clumsily and your folds wetter, the pillow darkening as your arousal stained them.

She couldn’t take it much longer.

“You’re almost bouncing, honey. Do it like this – in sliding motions.” A moan inevitably escaped your lips as she pushed your hips alone, quite literally guiding you. Wanda shuddered in delight. “Want that pretty pussy of yours gliding in, get that friction working already. Don’t be afraid to put all of your weight in it. It’s much better, trust me (y/n/n).”

Pretty? Wanda even used it in an inappropriate context. It affected you more than you thought it would, that you felt a spurt of liquid drip from your core. Was it supposed to be like this? It was better than previously. Maybe it was truly your form that made a better change. You thrust your hips more and no longer hesitated upon resting your lower body’s weight.

It was much better, just like Wanda had said.

Wanda’s bed creaked louder and louder. Of course, you were getting lost in your own needs – you didn’t even notice.

Your resolve was visibly breaking in front of Wanda which she absolutely relished on.

“Don’t let me stop you from moaning, baby. It’s all about your pleasure.” Wanda gently reassured you. It was all you needed apparently to let loose. “Thrust your hips harder.” She commands you. It sparked more need that travelled to your lower stomach down to your core.

Was this the feeling people always blabbered about? Because you’re sure that you understood it now. It completely took over your senses like crazy.

Your hands placed in front for balance, you do as your best friend said. She truly knows her way around here. You haven’t felt this needy before. The friction she mentioned was settling in quickly and it was addicting against your pussy. You close your eyes and arch your back. The softness soon burned – a delicious contradiction – and it was enough to make you feel soaked.

“Just like that…” Her hips have never left yours and matched the rough sliding motions, grasping firm around your bare skin. “It feels good, doesn’t it? You’re doing so great.” For me, Wanda wanted to add.

“M-mm, y-yes,” You whimpered and nodded dumbly.

“You can also experiment with other motions – try what’s best for you. You can do circles with your hips,”

You immediately try as she recommended. Wanda had to stifle a giggle right then and there. Her headboard was starting to hit against the wall with your messy yet hard thrusts. It was obvious that the pleasure was brewing already, to which Wanda deviously smiled at.

“Can I touch you down there? I bet it’s sticky already…” She whispered directly to your ear. You feel your best friend’s hot-white breath grazing satisfactory against your neck. It tickles!

It wouldn’t hurt right? It was a part of the lesson, you suppose. Wanda knew better and you trusted her. “Y-yes. You can touch me, Wands.”

Without further ado, your best friend immediately went in to trace your outer folds. Fuck, you were so wet. You immediately coated her fingers, terribly addicting that she had to stop herself from plunging in so suddenly.

You continued to gyrate harder and it seems that there was the ��spot’ that everyone was talking about. You lost track of it, but you felt how the pleasure intensified and moaned unadulteratedly, louder than before, that spurred Wanda to repeat the motion harder. With every glide against the pillow that you do, Wanda’s fingers were there at the edge to stimulate your throbbing core. Your breathing pattern grew heaving.

It was so, so addicting to have your slit pressed against the once innocent material and the friction it provided you–

“Stop there,” Wanda firmly said. You halt out of concern, rethinking whether you did something wrong. Your best friend, however, was pleased at your expression.

“D-Did I do something wrong?” You gulped and weakly asked.

“No, honey. You did so well.” Wanda caressed your jaw and held you by the cheek with her clean hand. A pleased grin broke out of you to which Wanda duly noted. You liked praises. “That was the first lesson. You need something to stimulate you into the mood, it is very important. Now I’ll touch you first so you can mimic them later on. Is that okay?” Her hands descend to trail them at the center of your torso and stopped by the pelvic area.

This was going so well. You even forgot and thought how dumb it was to doubt Wanda and how she would embarrass you. It felt as though it was more than what you asked of her.

You wet your lips, “M-more than okay.”

At this point, you valued Wanda's opinion more than ever.

“Good girl. We’ll get started.”

She swept away the crumpling notes and the stained pillow. Wanda almost moaned at the mere sight. It was like an animal had rudely rammed through her room.

Wanda stared at your half-lidded eyes that beamed at her words. Your hair was frazzled and barely can manage your own breathing. She caused this. And hell, she can’t wait to ravish you further. You felt reassured with her comforting smile and voice leading you on.

Your best friend grabbed you by the thighs to pull you closer to her. Wanda hummed in delight, a crooked smile on her lips appeared as you released a throaty moan again as she pushed them farther apart.

“Now, listen carefully, (y/n/n). You have to tease your folds first and gather the wetness here,” Wanda sultry uttered and started to stroke your folds again and you helplessly nod. “It’s no trouble right now, considering how soaked you are.” She bit her lip and teased you by bringing up her fingers that were coated by your arousal. “Don’t hide them from me. It’s so pretty to see you like this, honey.” You arched your back for her and became flustered at Wanda’s words.

So warm and inviting. Wanda was flooded with glee, that she swooped in before anyone else could. With this, she also intends to be your last. No way in hell she can share you now after this.

You feel your cheeks and ears grow hot. You buck your hips for more as Wanda starts to stroke vertically and then random patterns at your soaked pussy. It wasn’t enough to scratch the itch you’ve been longing for.

Your nostrils flared, “W-Wands, please..”

Wanda felt herself damp as you moaned her name. It was like music to her ears. She immediately changed your position, from your hips up to encouraging you to lay down flat on her bed and adjusting to settle on your side – her fingers not leaving the inside of your pussy.

“What do you need, baby?” She pressed a kiss on your ear. The gesture was meant to comfort you but you felt your body burning even more.

“I need you! It’s so sticky and tickling me- I don’t… Can you please h-help me?”

You were needy, just as Wanda wanted you to be. She riled you up enough that she even felt you drip more wetness as she plunged deeper inside of you and hit the spongy wall that her fingers could reach. You were more than compliant all throughout the session that it made her heart soar.

“You can also play with your breasts, it can add a better feel for you, baby.”

You hesitantly reach for your pair and Wanda’s awaiting (needy) eyes were the final nudge for you. You wanted to do good. At this point, the lines were blurred; you didn’t know if it was to achieve orgasm or praise from your best friend.

Hands skimming underneath your shirt, you also pushed up your bra and experimentally squeezed the flesh. You groaned and eyes half-lidded again, threatening to shut.

Wanda was ecstatic that she had convinced you through this. Her motions never faltered – if anything it was more determined – as she watched you play with your tits. She thought it was cute how your underwear mismatched, her eyes caught the sliver of the pale material of your panties and your bra in the color of a colder tone. Were you tugging on your perked nipples? You were so eager and feeling comfortable enough. Wanda almost demanded you to take them off, wanting to see them. Another time.

She kept on stimulating your pussy and with the addition of you playing with your breasts – it was impossible to even control your moans anymore.

You threw your arms quickly around Wanda’s neck and hands had wrapped themselves on her nape. Opposed to her firm and determined motions, you were gentle with how you caressed her skin. Wanda melted with no hesitation and now, her dorm room was reverberating with moans along you.

“It’s so sticky down here just as you said. Now,” Wanda’s own breathing was ragged and you had to force yourself to listen to her. “I’m going for your clit. It’s in the uppermost area, covered by your hood. Need to stretch you more-” She grabbed your hand and made them trace the areas for you to pinpoint them better. Fuck, Wanda was right. You were soaking wet. “That better?”

You agreed furiously, “Y-Yes, but–”

“I know, I know. You need more.” Wanda kept her ministrations inside of you, stretched you better that you had to let out a guttural moan. The spot was back and she kept hitting it now mercilessly. “Is that it? That feels much better?”

“Oh, yes!”

Your needy core greedily swallowed Wanda’s fingers and you had no idea. So drunk in pleasure. So lost without her. You’re so lucky that you had her. Wanda was just as intoxicated as you, her dilated green eyes drinking up the warmth of your pussy and your writhing sight.

Upon making eye contact, you didn’t know how to react to the revelation of how those green eyes unashamedly looked at you. It was similar as Wanda would when she was examining you while fitting clothes – only now they appeared more hungry and she’ll devour you.

And the thing is that you will gladly let her. Another needy moan was ripped out of you, disturbing your rail of thoughts as Wanda added her thumb to the stimulation that circled around your clit, you laid there helplessly clenching on the bed sheets while you were in Wanda’s grasp.

“W-Wands… Wands! I think I’m going to pee,” You shyly inform the woman and the heel of your palm pressed against her clavicle to push her away, Wanda only shushed you.

It was familiar to you, you think that you’ve reached this extent but you always stopped because you were very unsure of what follows after.

You felt dirty and it was embarrassing how you were bucking your hips to meet Wanda’s plunging in your core. It halted your mood a little and Wanda immediately picked it up, as your walls clenched harder around her digits.

“That’s it, that’s it.” Wanda’s sultry voice spurred your gears again. You huffed and absorbed her words. “Don’t worry about it, you’re going to cum. Just listen to my voice baby, you’re doing so great for me.” It is more than okay, you repeat in your head. Wanda’s making you feel so good you felt like you were going to combust.

Your muscles grew tense around the abdomen area and all over your thighs - you feel the knot forming in there. You are frenzied to chase it.

“Cum for me, come on, my good girl.”

Wanda was sweating now as you were, and she kept ramming inside of your warm walls, a final hard stimulation around your clit did its job to untangle the knot you were feeling.

“Wanda!” A guttural moan was ripped out of you.

It was the most angelic sound that Wanda has ever heard.

Your eyes were still closed shut. Still whining as you fall apart, it was the most freeing experience you’ve ever encountered. It’s easy to say that you were beyond satisfied this time around. Your body was almost floating and your mind was lightheaded–you’re sure of it. Your legs were spasming a little and it was hard to ignore the vivid feeling of liquid oozing out of your core. It was never ending and Wanda was tempted to drink them all up.

“You looked so beautiful there, honey. I’m proud of you.” She cooed sweetly in your ears and pressed a kiss on your forehead that was glistening with sheer sweat.

You grew hot at her words. “Oh–!”

The bed shook again and creaked as Wanda rode out your orgasm. The squelching sound was more vivid to your ears. You cried out loud, feeling that it was too much, held your best friend’s wrist and finally Wanda pulled her digits out. Before your best friend can calm you down–

An aggressive banging resounded against Wanda’s dorm walls.

“It’s midterms week! Stop fucking!”

You froze. You completely forgot where you were and how thin the dorm walls were, making you cover your face with your palm. Meanwhile, Wanda couldn’t be more bothered – she simply laughed at how evidently embarrassed you are, threading through her own hair with a familiar glint in her eyes.

“I don’t think I can face the people outside anymore,” You admit, groaning as you sober up from the high.

Why did you have to be so loud?

“Mmm. Lucky for you, we’re staying inside for a while. I got some other tricks I wanted to show you.” Wanda bit her lip, crimson also spreading through her cheeks as she closed the gap again between you.

She can compare your gaze to a deer caught in headlights. Always so attentive and compliant.

With a little more touch from your best friend, you felt the hotness starting again in your lower stomach, making it twitch with familiar need – your studying session long forgotten and replaced with a different lesson.

do not repost/translate on other sites. © wandagcre

#gg.writes #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x fem reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff imagines #wlw #lesbian #perv!wanda

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withahappyrefrain · 3 months ago

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took a lil looksie at that smutty prompt list and now i can't stop thinking about jake and a combo of "i've never done something like this before" and "this is a one time thing" 😵‍💫 like you kind of half know him as a friend of a friend and you know the kind of reputation he has but one thing leads to another at a party or like out w friends and suddenly you're hooking up in the back of his stupid jeep swearing up and down that you NEVER do this and how it's just this once and he's just like "awh honey it's cute you think this isn't gonna happen again" bc once you have him once there's simply no coming back from that

It's the stupid backwards cap.

You're so accustomed to seeing him in uniform that when he shows up in jeans, a button up and a backwards snapback, you nearly forget all the stories you've heard.

"It's a trap," Natasha mutters, pulling you away. It was for the best. You heard stories about Bagman. So it was easy to focus on the rest of the party and not the Adonis who just walked in.

At first.

You're trying, honestly. But it's so hard to focus on what Mickey is saying when Jake is right within your line of sight. The can of beer looks small in his hand. And he's got that smile the one where the corners of his green eyes crease. There's a light dusting of stubble on his face, a stark difference from the clean cut shaven look he usually sports.

Shit, is he looking at you?

You turn away, suddenly very interested in the Star Wars show Mickey was rambling about. Your friend can't tell that your nods are artificial, but Bob and Natasha sure can.

"All I'm going to say is that it's Bagman," Bob remarks before walking away, no doubt going back to his favorite corner of the room to watch it all go down.

You know it's fucking Bagman. The dickhead that always gives Bob, Mickey, and Nat something to complain about during your D&D sessions. Hell, after hearing some of the stories, you wanted to punch the man yourself.

You still did want to do that. Just not with your fists. No, you wanted to punch Jake with your lips. On his.

Fuck.

Perhaps a conversation would do the trick. Confidence dripped all over him. He was a damn good pilot, a fact your friends couldn't deny. But surely, one conversation would remind you of all the shit he's pulled, wiping away any and all physical desires you had somehow developed for the guy in the last thirty minutes.

"Hey darlin. I was just about to come over and talk to ya." The sincerity in his voice stops you dead in your tracks.

No, he could not be serious. You even told him so.

And this fucker has the audacity to smile while shaking his head, "Course I do. I've been wanting to meet ya for a while now."

This was not the sleazy, unsavory man you had heard about. They were right about him being a former frat bro. But what they didn't know was that was your exact type.

A rosy pink dusts Jake's face as he explains, "I saw you with Mickey, Bob, and Nat on Instagram. Y'all had just gone to a festival?"

"Comic con," you clarify. He's out of his element when it comes to your hobbies, but the worst part is it seems like he's trying.

"I know who you are." Was it meant to be a statement or a threat? Hell, you didn't even know.

Jake shows zero indication your blunt sentence had any effect. Instead he just smiles as he leans in, his handsome face now inches away from yours.

"I know who you are too." It's just that stupid Texan charm, it means nothing.

"Yeah?" Like a moth to a flame, you lean forward, able to catch the sandalwood of his cologne. He's so tanned, you wonder if his skin is warm, if he's just a walking ray of sunshine.

The thought of touching him, simply brushing your fingers along his arm, flashes through your mind. It's startling, you're not supposed to like Jake Seresin. At least, that's what you've been told.

Turns out, Jake Seresin is charming. He listens and asks the right question. You doubt it's genuine, from what you've heard he's quite the flirt.

He's also quite the kisser. When you two moved to Bradley's porch, you can't say. What you do know is Jake has you pressed up against a wall, his mouth perfectly slotted over yours. And it feels good. His hands explored your body, as if committing to memorize every soft curve.

"I don't do this, just so you know," you blurt out, desperate to get it out before his mouth finds yours again.

Jake's mouth forms into a smirk, "So you're saying I'm special darlin?"

No. He can't be. This is just a one time thing.

You tell him that and he continues to kiss you. You repeat it as you lead Jake to his jeep, your hands greedily exploring his body. He's so muscular and you were expecting him to be clean shaven, only to find soft hair that graced his chest and trailed down to below the waistband of his jeans.

That cursed backwards cap is somewhere on the floor of his Jeep. You're too busy situating yourself into his lap, allowing you access to his neck. The only thing you remember clearly is how he gingerly took your glasses off and placed them in the console.

Your teeth sink into his skin, pulling a strangled groan from his thin pink lips. The sound is like a spell, luring your hips to grind against his.

"I don't- I've never done something like this before," you confess, stilling your body.

"Do you wanna stop?" His voice is unexpectedly soft, his touch gentle as he pushes some hair out of your face.

You should stop. You should get out of this stupid truck, go back to the party and pretend none of this ever happened.

That's the logical thing to do, given what you know about Jake Seresin. But right now, you don't see the cocky, asshole pilot. His green eyes have softened and there's an encouraging smile on his face.

"It's your call darlin," Jake reminds you, thumb drawing circles on your hip.

"This is just a one time thing, okay?" The declaration was more for yourself than him. One hookup wouldn't hurt anyone, as long as it stayed at one.

Jake chuckles, "You're so cute, thinking this will be a one time thing."

Before you can make a remark, his hands pull your hips down to his, allowing you to feel the denim cladded erection against your clothed core.

Fuck.

#my writing #jake seresin #hangman #top gun hangman #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin smut #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin oneshot #top gun oneshot #hangman smut #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman x y/n

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deliciousangelfestival · 6 months ago

Text

He's A Killer

Summary: She’s known among her family and friends for being single, and everyone worries about her. Determined to prove them wrong, she finally makes her first move, only to discover that the person she likes is dangerous.

The second part : He's The Sweetest

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

The emergency room of St. Grace Medical Center buzzes with activity. Doctors and nurses move swiftly, handling patients with precision. Voices blur together in the chaos, and the sharp scent of antiseptic fills the air.

You're inside the medical storage room, scanning shelves for the supplies the doctor requested: syringes, tubes, and medication vials. Besides, you is Clara, your co-worker and friend, busy sorting through trays.

"I told you I had that family dinner, right?" you say, picking up a pack of syringes.

"Yeah, how was it?" Clara asks, not looking up from the tray she's organizing.

“Dreadful. Dreadful. Dreadful,” you reply, shaking your head in exasperation.

Clara glances at you, a smirk forming. "Wow, three times? That bad, huh?"

The memory flashes through your mind: Sunday, family dinner. You sit across from your aunts, who seem more interested in your love life than the meal.

"Your mom’s worried about you, you know," one of your aunts says between bites. "She didn't tell you because she's afraid of hurting your feelings," another aunt adds. "You’re already over 30; the clock is ticking." "My friend’s son works at the oil company. I could get his contact if you want. He’s a good catch."

Back in the storage room, Clara's voice breaks through your thoughts. "Well, you probably won’t like this, but your aunt’s kinda right. I mean, bestie, I’m only saying this because I care about you."

You hum, trying to keep your focus on entering patient data into the system. Clara means well, but the topic is starting to get old.

“Honey, you’re a great friend and an amazing co-worker. Everyone here relies on you because you’re so reliable. You know why?” Clara’s voice softens as she leans in. “Because you’re single. You don’t have someone waiting for you, or someone to hang out with on Saturdays and Sundays.”

You freeze for a moment, glancing up at her with raised eyebrows.

“Please, go out and talk to someone," she continues. "You've been single for way too long. You deserve some love, girl. It’s not like you need to get married right away.”

Clara shudders, as if the thought gives her chills. “No, not at all! Just, you know, make friends first?” She winks playfully before gathering a tray of supplies and heading out to assist the doctor.

Alone in the storage room, you sigh, leaning against the counter for a moment. Clara means well, but every time someone offers to introduce you to someone, it irks you. You know you’ve been single for a long time—your whole life, really—but it’s not that you don’t want a relationship.

It’s complicated.

You've seen too many relationships fall apart. Your parents, your aunts, your cousins—all their stories weigh on you. The cheating, the abuse, the constant reminders from your cousins: “Don’t get married.” It’s no wonder you’re hesitant.

But what stings the most is finding out your father, who you always thought was a devoted husband, had cheated on your mom. That betrayal shaped your fears. You don’t want to end up like her—trapped in a painful, one-sided marriage.

Part of you is scared of commitment, scared of getting hurt. But another part of you craves it—a real connection. The irony of it all is that the same aunts pushing you to settle down are stuck in abusive marriages themselves. It’s almost comedic, in a sad, twisted way.

You shake your head, pushing the thoughts aside as you gather the last of the supplies.

🐼🐼🐼🐼🐼

Working at ER felt like living in a whirlwind. You rarely went home, often staying for almost 24 hours at a time. The chaos of patients coming in with life-threatening injuries, doctors shouting orders, and the constant rush to save lives left you drained but fulfilled. When you finally had a day off, there was only one thing you looked forward to—visiting the zoo to see your favorite animal: the panda. 🐼

You’ve always had a soft spot for pandas. Something about their calm, slow movements and gentle nature soothed you. The baby panda, in particular, had become your little escape. Watching it tumble around, clumsily explore, or nibble on bamboo always brought you a sense of peace. You had its appearances memorized on your schedule since it wasn’t allowed out every day.

Today was one of those rare days off, and you made your way to the zoo, excited to see the baby panda. But when you arrived, the mood shifted. A zoo employee stood in front of the panda enclosure, addressing the crowd of disappointed families.

“Sorry folks, the panda viewing has been rescheduled. We have made an announcement on our social media last week—we worked on it all night, without sleep.”

You rolled your eyes at the comment. Without sleep? Try handling an ER at peak hours. Annoyed but resigned, you sighed and checked the next available viewing time. As the crowd started dispersing, one person caught your attention.

A tall man stood at the panda window, his broad shoulders slumped in disappointment. He sighed deeply before turning around. That’s when your eyes met. It wasn’t intentional, but the sudden connection caught you off guard. Quickly, you bowed your head and hurried away, feeling your cheeks warm from the brief moment.

The next day, you returned to the zoo, and this time, the baby panda was out. You joined the crowd, eager to see your favorite animal. The baby panda was as adorable as ever, tumbling clumsily around its habitat. You found yourself smiling, the sight of it immediately calming your busy mind. But as you glanced around, you saw him again—the tall man from yesterday. He was also watching the panda, just as captivated as the rest of the crowd.

The panda display ended too soon, and just as you were about to leave, the sky opened up and rain started pouring. The panda enclosure was far from the main entrance, and there was no shelter nearby. Luckily, you always carried an umbrella. As you received a message from the hospital calling you in for an emergency, you saw other visitors quickly opening their umbrellas and leaving one by one.

Soon, it was just you and the tall man left in the rain.

You noticed him glancing at his watch, pacing back and forth like he was debating whether to make a run for it. His indecision made you smile. He clearly wasn’t prepared for the weather. Without thinking much of it, you walked up to him, holding out your umbrella.

“Ehm,” you said, voice slightly raised over the sound of the rain. “Want to walk to the gate together?”

His eyes flicked to the umbrella in your hand before he gave you a small smile. “Thank you,” he said, stepping under it with you.

The walk was quiet, the sound of the rain drumming on the umbrella louder than any conversation you might have had. It should have felt awkward—after all, you were strangers—but the rain filled the silence. He stayed close to your side, even leaning a little toward you to make sure you weren’t getting wet. You noticed his left side was already damp, but he didn’t seem to care. Is he a gentleman? you wondered as you both continued walking.

When you finally reached the entrance, you closed your umbrella. The man pointed toward the parking lot. “My car’s pretty far,” he said, glancing toward the rain-soaked lot.

“I’ve got to go too,” you replied, showing him your phone. “I booked a car from the app. It should be here soon.”

He nodded, still standing close. You hesitated for a moment, then held out the umbrella to him. “Here. Take this. It’s better than running through the rain.”

He blinked in surprise, looking down at the umbrella. “How do I return this to you?”

You smiled, shrugging lightly. “It’s alright. I have more. But… if you really want to return it, you can find me at the hospital E.R. St. Grace Medical Center.”

His lips curled into a small smile, a flash of warmth in his eyes. “Alright then, the hospital. I’ll remember that.”

Before he could say anything more, your car pulled up. You gave him one last smile, ducking into the back seat, and as you drove off, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d see him again.

🐼🐼🐼🐼

The night shift at St. Grace Medical Center had just begun, but unlike most nights, the ER was unusually quiet. A handful of patients sat in the waiting area, the usual chaos replaced by a lull. The soft beeping of monitors filled the air, interrupted occasionally by the rustle of paperwork or a distant cough.

Clara, your ever-observant co-worker, stood beside you, arms crossed, her brow raised in curiosity. "You look different tonight. What’s going on?" She tilted her head, smirking slightly.

You paused, your lips twitching into a small smile. "Well… I met this guy when I went to see my favorite panda."

Clara’s smirk grew wide. “Ah, the fluffy black and white mammals. So, what makes this guy more special than your favorite animal?”

You were about to answer when a loud commotion broke out near the entrance. A drunk patient stumbled through the doors, yelling incoherently, bumping into chairs, and causing a scene.

“Perfect timing,” you muttered under your breath.

Clara groaned. "Here we go."

You both rushed over to try and calm him down. He was clearly in no state to be reasoned with, slurring his words and swaying dangerously as he tried to grab hold of another patient’s wheelchair.

“Sir, you need to sit down,” you said, holding up your hands in a calming gesture.

The man blinked at you, confused, then suddenly lunged forward, trying to grab your arm. Panic surged through you, but before he could make contact, a firm hand caught the drunk man's wrist.

"That's enough," a deep voice said from behind you.

You turned around, startled to see him—the man from the zoo. The one who borrowed your umbrella. He stood tall, his grip firm but not aggressive as he guided the drunk man back into a chair. The drunk patient, surprised by the sudden interference, mumbled something incoherent but didn’t resist.

Relief washed over you, and you let out a shaky breath. “Thanks. That could’ve gotten ugly.”

He gave you a soft smile. “It’s quiet here,” he said casually.

You quickly shook your head, eyes widening. “Don’t say that! You’ll jinx it.”

He chuckled at your reaction, then glanced down at your name tag. “Y/N, huh? Nice to meet you. I’m James Barnes, but most people call me Bucky.”

You blinked, feeling the warmth of his smile seep into you. "Nice to meet you too… Bucky."

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a familiar item—your umbrella. “Sorry I’m late returning this. Thanks again for letting me borrow it.”

You grinned, feeling a bit of your usual humor return. “Hey, as panda lovers, we have to help each other out, right?”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you wanted to dig a hole and hide in it. Did I really just say that?

To your surprise, Bucky laughed—a genuine, warm sound. “You’re right. We do.” Then, as if to return the favor for your kindness, he pulled a folded piece of paper from his jacket pocket. “Actually, I have something for you.”

You furrowed your brows, confused, until you unfolded the paper. Your eyes widened in disbelief—it was a VIP ticket for a face-to-face panda experience, something you had only dreamed about.

“What? How did you get this?” you asked, astonished.

Bucky smiled, a little mischievously. “I’ve got some connections.”

Before you could fully process what had just happened, Bucky waved and left the hospital. As soon as he was out of sight, Clara whistled softly behind you.

“Well, well, well,” she teased, her tone dripping with amusement. “Is someone making panda dates now?”

You rolled your eyes, though a blush crept up your cheeks. "It’s not like that, Clara."

“Mm-hmm,” she hummed, her eyes twinkling. “I’m sure it’s all innocent.”

The next day, you found yourself back at the zoo, clutching your VIP ticket nervously. And there he was again—Bucky, standing near the entrance, waiting for you.

“Hey,” he greeted you with that same easy smile.

“Hey,” you replied, feeling the familiar flutter in your chest. The two of you walked together into the building, and soon, the moment you'd been waiting for arrived: you were face to face with the baby panda.

Both of you were silent as the tiny creature waddled toward you. The panda was as adorable as you had imagined, its soft fur and curious little eyes making your heart melt. Bucky stood next to you, just as captivated. When the panda let out a small squeak, you both exchanged a glance, wide-eyed, before grinning like kids.

As you held the baby panda for a brief moment, you felt all the exhaustion from your long shifts melt away. It was like a small pocket of happiness you hadn’t realized you needed. You could hear Bucky chuckling softly beside you, clearly sharing the same sentiment.

“Why pandas?” he asked softly after a while, turning to look at you.

You shrugged, smiling. “They’re just… calming. Whenever I’m tired from the hospital or life, looking at them helps. It’s like all the stress just melts away.”

Bucky nodded thoughtfully, his gaze still on the baby panda. “I get it. My job is… well, it’s tiring. Dangerous too. But seeing animals like this, being cuddled, living peacefully—it helps. Makes me feel like there’s still good out there.”

You glanced at him curiously, sensing there was more he wasn’t saying. “Sounds like a tough job,” you said carefully.

Bucky smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah… it can be.”

It's his turn to hold and cuddle the baby panda, and the sight is nothing short of heartwarming. The little creature, with its round face and soft, fuzzy coat, snuggles into his arms as he cradles it gently. Bucky’s eyes light up with a mix of joy and awe, his broad smile breaking through his usually composed demeanor. He chuckles softly, a sound that resonates with warmth, as the panda nuzzles against his chest, completely at ease.

There’s a brief pause, the kind that feels heavy with something unsaid, as he shifts his gaze from the panda to you. The moment stretches out, filled with unspoken tension.

Then, suddenly, he turns toward you, a hint of awkwardness creeping into his expression. “You know… if you’re not busy sometime, maybe we could grab a coffee? Or dinner, maybe?” His cheeks flush slightly, as if he’s unsure how his invitation will be received, but the sincerity in his eyes reveals his hopefulness.

Your heart skipped a beat. His voice was casual, but there was a hint of nervousness behind it, which made it all the more endearing.

You smiled, warmth blooming in your chest. “I’d like that.”

His face lit up, the awkward tension lifting. “Great,” he said, looking almost relieved. “I’ll, uh, message you then?”

“Yeah,” you replied, feeling the beginnings of a connection you hadn’t expected. “I’d like that a lot.”

🐼🐼🐼🐼

Your relationship with Bucky started innocently enough, bonding over your shared love for pandas and animals. What began as casual conversations about your common interests slowly grew deeper. The two of you spent more time together, texting throughout the day, meeting for coffee, or watching movies late into the night. It wasn’t long before you started spending nights at each other’s places. The closeness felt natural, and his easygoing demeanor made you feel safe.

Clara, of course, couldn’t resist teasing you about it. One evening during a shift, she shot you a knowing look. “You know,” she began with a smirk, “you should introduce him to your family. I bet his shadow alone could shut them up.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. "One step at a time, Clara. I don't want him to run away after meeting my family."

Over time, your relationship with Bucky deepened, and intimacy followed. You spent nights at his apartment, and he did the same at yours. The affection between you two was comfortable and warm. Bucky worked as a contractor, which sometimes took him out of town for a while. That’s why, one day, he handed you the key to his apartment with a smile.

“Keep it,” he said. “Just in case you need to check on Alpine.”

Alpine was his cat, a fluffy white ball of fur who quickly won your heart. You adored her, and it was easy to see why Bucky did too.

One day, on your day off, you decided to spend the afternoon at Bucky’s place. It was quiet and cozy, perfect for unwinding after a long week. His salary as a contractor must be high enough that he can afford this house.

Alpine was curled up on your lap as you sat on the couch, absentmindedly stroking her soft fur. The gentle purrs coming from her were soothing.

Suddenly, Alpine’s ears perked up, and before you knew it, she jumped from your lap and padded over to the bookshelf. You watched curiously as she stretched her paws toward one of the shelves.

“What are you up to, little one?” you murmured, getting up to see what had caught her attention. As you reached out to move a book, you heard a soft click. Before you could react, the bookshelf started to shift, revealing a hidden door.

Your heart raced as you hesitated for a moment, but when Alpine darted through the opening, you knew you couldn’t just leave her. Steeling your nerves, you stepped inside.

The room you entered was nothing like the cozy, homey apartment you knew. Your breath caught in your throat as you took in the scene before you. Guns lined the walls, various types of explosives were neatly arranged on shelves, and papers filled with detailed information were pinned to a whiteboard. It looked like something straight out of a spy movie—except it wasn’t a movie. It was real.

“When I finally make a move, turns out the man I like is a killer,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you picked up Alpine and quickly backed out of the room. You closed the secret door, your mind racing.

What do I do now?

You paced back and forth in the living room, your heart pounding in your chest. Your thoughts spiraled as you tried to process what you had just seen. Finally, in a panic, you grabbed your phone and dialed Clara.

After a couple of rings, her voice came through, light and cheery. “Yo, girls, what’s up?”

You swallowed hard, still clutching Alpine close to you. “Clara…”

“Yeah?” Her tone shifted slightly, sensing something was off.

You whispered into the phone, your voice shaky as you held Alpine close to your chest, “I think my boyfriend is a hitman."

Taglist:

@thezombieprostitute

@scott-loki-barnes

@mostlymarvelgirl

@missvelvetsstuff

Extras:

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queenbee298 · 1 month ago

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Poppy playtime x Gender Neutral Reader “Finally Free” Scenarios.

This is just going to be a platonic story No romance stories or request. You can request something scenarios, you want me to write about, but anyway let’s get started! Warning: Angst and fluff

☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️

Distractions

Life with your new toy family was challenging, since as trying to leave your house, hiding them from friends and family, and working.

You worked from home so you didn’t have to worry about leaving them alone. However, when you would try to concentrate, the mini critters would run around playing or they would try to climb or jump into the cabinets for candy. Luckily, Doey was there to help you with the mini critters, so you knew you can count on him.

Kickin Chicken: “Hurry up, Hoppy! I want those skittles!”

Hoppy was trying to jump on the counter and into the cabinets for the bag of sweets you bought for the toys. But you tried to put them away so the toys (mainly the critters) won’t try to eat them all. This didn’t stop them.

Hoppy Hopscotch: “I got it!”

Picky Piggy: “Shhh… Or Mama/Papa will hear us.”

Y/N: “Hoppy? Kickin? Picky? What are you doing?”

Hoppy, Kickin, & Picky: “Nothing!”

You didn’t believe them. Doey sat next to you in your office while you worked on your computer. He would just sit nexts to you and just talk about anything. Like a child telling their mother about their day at school.

Y/N: Doey, if it’s not too much trouble , can you check on them?”

Doey: “No problem, mom/dad!”

Doey went out your office and into the kitchen to see nothing but an empty bag of sweets and three little critters when full bellies.

Doey: “Are you guys serious!? You are the whole bag?!”

Picky Piggy: “Hehe, Guess we got a little carried away,huh?”

Hoppy couldn’t say anything, but groan at the pain of her full belly. Kickin’s couldn’t handle of the sugar in his stomach and threw up rainbow puke on the floor. Doey immediately called your name and you rushed out to see the mess in your kitchen and clearly you were angry with the critters.

Y/N: “How many times do I have to time you not to jump on counters and eat up all the candy?”

Hoppy Hopscotch: “None, Angel.

Y/N: “I shouldn’t have to tell you.”

Hoppy, Kickin, Picky: We’re sorry, Angel!”

Y/N: “It’s okay, but next time you’ll listen to me.”

You and Doey had to clean up the vomit.

Others times when you were working the critters and Kissy would running around and play.

Y/N: “Guys, can you settle down, I can’t focus.”

Critters: “Sorry, Mama/Papa.”

Nightmares

Even if you and the toys were out the factory, you all couldn’t forget how terrible it was in the factory. You had nightmares of the bigger toys like Huggy Wuggy or Catnap chasing or not being able to save the toys.

The toys had it worse. Doey worrying if he’s not strong enough to help you or the little critters or hurting someone because of his temper, Kissy’s nightmare about the Prototype or being strapped down by scientists, Dogday being chained up and critters eating his organs, or Poppy being trapped in her case again. They were afraid and needed you.

One night, you woke up to sounds. It sounded like sniffling. You opened your eyes to see it was Kissy.

Y/N: “ Kissy, are you okay?”

Her eyes were flooded were tears and she was shaking. Even if she was smiling, you knew she was sad.

Y/N: “ Come here, honey.”

Kissy crawled over the other sleeping toys and hugged you. You placed a kiss on her head and rubbed her back.

Y/N: “It’s all going to be okay, I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Other night, Doey woke you up due to him having a nightmare.

Y/N: “Another nightmare?”

Doey: “Uh-Huh.”

Y/N: “You wanna talk about it?”

Doey: “No, I just wanna get my mind off it.”

You laid down with Doey on the bed and held him close.

Y/N: “It’s all going to be okay.”

Doey looked up at you.

Doey: “Can you sing me a lullaby?”

Y/N: “Anything for you, sweetie.”

You sang “Rockabye,” by Clean Bandit, (A/N: I know this song didn’t come out in 2005, but this will be the lullaby) this helped Doey go to sleep.

Y/N: “I’ll always be there for you.”

Yarnaby got nightmares of burning to death and you leaving him to die.

He would wake you up to make sure you were with me and to pet him.

Dogday got phantom pain around his waist. You would rubbed his belly to make sure him was okay.

Playtime

Now that you were all out of the factory, the toys can finally run outside and play in the grass without worrying about something attacking them. You bought toys, books, and puzzles for activities and a white board for Kissy so she can communicate. Doey mentioned a book him and the toys like to read back in the factory.

Dogday and Yarnaby would run around in the fields or sit out in the sun. You couldn’t find it there, but you bought it for a book store. “The adventures of the word wizard!” At night, you would read the toys a bedtime story and most of the time they would pick that book.”

Y/N: “ Okay guys, what book do you want me to read.

Toys: “The adventures of the word wizard!”

Y/N: “Don’t you guys want to read a different book?”

Toys: “Please?”

They all gave you puppy eyes and you reluctantly agreed. You all headed to the bedroom and the toys gathered together in bed while you read the story. By the time you finished everyone was asleep.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️Sorry it took a while to post this story, but it’s out now so enjoy. Also, please request some ideas you want me to write.

#poppy playtime doey #poppy playtime kissy missy #poppy playtime #poppy playtime chapter 4 #ppt 4 #poppy playtime smiling critters #poppy playtime chapter four #poppy playtime x reader #poppy playtime 4 x reader #doey the doughman #kissy missy #finally free au

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honeyed-hedonist · 9 months ago

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Parings: Jason Todd x afab!Reader Word Count: 4.4k Warnings: SMUT—MINORS DNI. mentions of blood, gore, and violence, oral (f & m receiving), lots of teasing, degradation (jason todd is a big meanie), a lil bit of a size kink if you squint (hims a big, big boy), an obscene amount of dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, jason has multiple orgasms (he’s got stamina, baybee), creampie, cum swapping, and, as always, declarations of love (barf). A/N: I wrote this for my sweet baby angel @heli0s-writes in a little fic swap we’re having because we like to scream at each other about all the fictional men we want to rail us into a pulp. I love you! I hope this makes your brain melt. Tehe 😈 (Reposting from my former blog)

IF YOU LIKE THIS STORY, PLEASE REBLOG IT.

Jason Todd is a menace. The absolute bane of your existence.

Who does he think he is banging on your door at 3:45 in the morning? As if your neighbors needed another reason to gossip about you. Nevermind all the probing questions that were poorly masked as casual conversation when you were using the on-site laundry room or grabbing your mail. If you had to hear “So, you and Red Hood, huh?” one more time, you were going to rip your hair out.

But Jason has always been brazen—not much has changed since the day you found him bleeding out in an alley between your apartment building and the pet shelter next door. He had a gunshot wound, lacerations over damn near every square inch of him, his mask all but shattered and exposing most of his face to you as you did your best to haul his massive frame up from the ground to drag him inside and patch him up. He had grinned at you the entire time, flirted with you while you fished the bullet out, asked you to dinner as you wiped the grit and grime off of his neck and chest. He hasn’t left you alone since.

You love him, of course. How can you not? He’s 6’4” of muscled steel, all wrapped up in a handsome, roguish bow with a sharp tongue and an even sharper mind. Any woman alive would be hard-pressed to resist his charms and you’re no exception, but it’s difficult to remember those warm, fuzzy feelings when he’s pounding on your door hard enough to wake the dead.

With bleary eyes, you unlatch the locks and yank it open, hissing at him as you fist your hand into the lapel of his jacket and tug him inside, ignoring the wide-eyed look on your neighbor’s face from across the hall. Your annoyance is overshadowing the rest of your senses, so you don’t see the tent in his pants, don’t notice his lust-blown pupils when he shucks his helmet off and throws it aside. Instead, you whirl on him, an accusatory finger pointed squarely at his chest in preparation to scold him.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? Why couldn’t you just come in through the window? I keep it unlocked for this exact reason, Jason! You stubborn fucking ass—mmph!” His mouth is on you instantly—demanding and desperate as he crashes his lips into yours, uninterested in hearing your lecture. His gloved hands lift you off the floor in one fluid motion that has you instinctively wrapping your legs around his hips. You feel it then, the heavy, hard length of him trapped between your bodies and you gasp, an action that he capitalizes on by shoving his tongue past your teeth and into the back of your throat.

The tang of coppery blood fills your mouth and has you retreating, pushing back on his chest to look at him, but he’s right there chasing your mouth, walking blindly towards your kitchen table to set you down. “Jay—honey, wait. Are you—fuck!” His teeth are sharp against your throat, silencing your protest with the harsh sting of pain, grunting as he grinds his hips between your spread thighs.

“Shut up,” He growls, voice low and dangerous, sending your synapses into overdrive, drowning out what little restraint you have left. “Need to be inside you. Need to hear those sweet sounds, baby, just—let me.” Jason’s fingers are shaking when he moves to peel your shirt off, and you know it’s the adrenaline, that he’s high from the violence of his nightly patrol, teetering on the edge of losing control. These nights, you think, are the ones he needs you the most—seeking salvation with your body, tunneling his way to absolution with powerful thrusts of his hips, because if you can love all the fucked up parts of him, can love him even after all of his mistakes, then maybe, in his mind, he’s worth something afterall.

So you nod, your own hands making quick work of the kevlar and leather he’s covered in, helping him shed layer after layer of it off until he’s bare chested and heaving with labored breaths. It’s then that you notice the gashes that cut diagonally across his collarbone, the skin ripped in a way that makes you shudder. Claws? A serrated knife? You can only imagine the kind of monsters he grappled with tonight. His chest is smeared with congealed, drying blood, a trail of it leading down his stomach, seeping into his briefs and tactical pants, staining the tuft of coarse, dark hair that leads to his pubic bone an ugly shade of rust.

His eyes have turned shark-like—a depthless obsidian that makes him look possessed, the usual crystalline blue almost completely eclipsed by his blown out pupils. You should be terrified by the sight, the danger lurking within that endless dark, but your demons have always called to his, so all it does is stoke the flames now licking their way down your spine to pool between your legs. His gaze shifts the second your hands fall to your panties, exhaling a shaky breath as you try to wiggle out of them, to grant him access to the part of you that only he gets to explore.

Jason snarls then, swatting your hands away to rip the flimsy strip of cotton clean off, tossing it over his shoulder where it floats delicately to the floor in shredded ribbons of fabric. And then he’s on his knees, dropping to your floor with a loud thud that has the knick knacks hanging on your walls tinkling with vibration from the force of his herculean frame hitting the laminate. He scoots closer, boots scuffing your floor, the heat of his stare now focused on your puffy slit. Every exhale is a rumbling growl, hot breath fanning out against your pussy as he inches closer and you bite your lip, ready to muffle the sound you know he’s going to tear from your throat the second he puts his mouth on you.

Warm, calloused hands skate up the insides of your thighs, throwing them open even wider to accommodate the width of his shoulders when he leans in. Jason’s nose settles against your slit and he inhales, breathing in the musky scent of your arousal. It leaves you frozen in place, barely breathing when you watch his eyes roll back with pleasure. It sends your pulse straight to your clit and you whimper, the sound acting as a catalyst for him to dive in tongue-first and lick a wet stripe through your folds. He moans at the taste of you, a deep, salacious vibration of sound that rattles your bones. It has you hooking your hands around the edge of the table in a white-knuckled grip, mouth slack when Jason’s deft tongue and plush lips begin to work you over.

He’s precise and purposeful when he eats you out—applying just the right amount of pressure, finding the perfect moments to snag that bundle of nerves with his teeth, gumming at your velvety cunt with his mouth, his tongue attuned to your every need. It takes him no time at all until you’re whining, begging like a god damn harlot, your fingers wound harshly into the roots of his hair, pulling him in, fucking yourself on his face. His girl. Perfect and needy, just the way he likes you.

But, again, Jason Todd is a fucking menace, glancing up at you with that wild look in his eyes, clocking the way your eyebrows are knitted together, the way you’ve got him pressed so deeply between your legs that he can barely breathe—he knows you’re close, can feel your thighs trembling against his ears. He waits, feasts on you until your eyes roll back into your skull, until he knows you’re about to rocket into a release—and then he stops, withdraws his mouth—a mouth that’s glistening with evidence of your pleasure, and offers you a sadistic smile.

“You thought I was gonna let you cum, princess?” He goads, swatting at your pussy hard enough that it sends you reeling, your body jerking with a yelp. “Nah…Tonight you cum on my cock and nowhere else.” Jason rocks back on his heels and stands, towering over you, crowding your space as he takes your jaw in his hand, his grip hard and unforgiving. “Do you understand me?”

There’s a war happening in your mind, because you know he needs this control, know he’s standing on a very dangerous ledge and you have to tread carefully, but fuck if you don’t want to cop an attitude, push him right off that cliff just to see what he’ll do. Seconds tick by like minutes, his eyes bouncing between yours, expectancy evident on his handsome face while you contemplate how much you value the use of your legs and whether you’ll need them tomorrow.

“I don’t take orders from you, Todd,” You spit, jerking your chin free from his hold. Curiosity has clearly gotten the better of you, and the fire your response sets ablaze in Jason’s eyes has your stomach flipping. His mouth curls into a wicked little smirk, and then you feel that same hand of his wrap around your throat and squeeze; hard.

He bends forward, bringing his lips to the shell of your ear, tongue tracing the edge of the cartilage. “So that’s how it’s gonna be, hmm?” Your breath hitches at the gravel in his tone, and now you know without a doubt that you won’t be doing any walking tomorrow, let alone moving. Thank god you have some PTO saved up.

Jason’s spine straightens when he yanks you off the table, the movement so fast you don’t have enough time to process what’s happening until your ass hits the floor and you wince. “Well, would ya lookit that.” He mocks, palm slapping against your cheek before he’s hooking two fingers into your mouth to suppress your tongue. “Since you’re down there already—might as well make yourself useful, yeah?”

Fuck. Sometimes you forget the cruelty he’s capable of, the way he can talk so mean, degrade and embarrass you for the sake of your shared pleasure. It’s exactly what you asked for, and he always delivers. With blush stained cheeks, your face pinched in a glare, you reach for his pants, popping the button open, tugging the zipper down, and shucking the blood-stained bottoms and cotton briefs to his knees. What you’re met with has your jaw working, saliva pooling behind your teeth because goddamn is he hung.

Jason is fucking massive everywhere, so it goes without saying that his dick would carry some weight, but it still astonishes you every single time you see it. Bobbing invitingly in your face, angry red at the tip and oozing precum, veins prominent and pulsing along the shaft just begging for attention, his cock sits proudly above an even heftier set of balls, and you clench remembering just how good they feel smacking your sensitive clit when he pounds you out from behind.

His fingers are still playing against your tongue, sliding over the wet muscle until he breaches the back of your throat and you choke. There’s drool seeping past his knuckles, dribbling onto your chest, and he hums his approval, eyes glittering with the promise of what’s to come. One last pass of his calloused digits before he’s angling his tip and pushing his length into the wet heat of your mouth with a grunt. “This is a much better use for that mouth of yours, don’t you agree, princess?” Jason coos at you, pressing forward until your eyes screw shut, tears trickling down your cheeks when his cock seats itself deep in your esophagus. “That’s a good girl—open up that throat for me. Yeah, just like that—fuck.”

Soggy, spit covered fingers curl against the crown of your head as Jason begins to thrust, fucking your mouth. Your eyes are blurry, crossing each time he bottoms out, breathing harshly through your nose with every withdrawal, your palms digging into the meat of his thighs to keep you steady, to keep you rooted enough to take his assault. Over and over again he drives his hips forward, the slippery sound of the suction of your lips is so fucking obscene it makes you moan. That filthy, wet squelch ringing out as more saliva trickles from the corners of your mouth, bubbling up in sloppy arcs that web between your chin and his cock, matting into his pubic hair, commingling with the remnants of his blood.

You’re sure your face is stained pink from it by now, and you couldn’t care less, not when Jason’s face is twisted so beautifully above you—jaw slack and cheeks red, sweat marring his brow, hair curling at his temples and the nape of his neck. He looks so goddamn pretty when he loses himself in you like this that it makes the ache in your throat worth it, makes tomorrow’s hoarseness a welcome battlescar if only for the vision of him lost in the throes of violent passion above you right now. “Shit—m’gonna cum, princess. S’too good, I can’t—”

You slip your hand beneath your chin, between your bodies, cupping his balls, teasing them, rolling them in your palm, and he roars, bottoming out to cum down your throat. His cock pulses against your tongue and you wiggle it against his length appreciatively, humming while you swallow down spurt after spurt of milky semen until he’s pulling out with a hiss. Jason’s big hand cups your jaw, tilting your face up while he huffs. “Best little cocksucker, baby, but I’m nowhere near finished with you yet.”

Before you can blink. Jason hauls you up and deposits you right back onto the kitchen table, throwing your legs open. Letting out a low whistle, he drags the pad of his thumb up through your folds, swiping over your throbbing clit with a chuckle. “Such a pretty little pussy, hm? So eager, so fuckin’ desperate, clenching around nothing at all. You just wanna be full, don’t you?” He goads, slotting his hips between your thighs, letting the heavy weight of his dick slap against your sensitive pearl until you’re mewling, fingernails biting into his forearms.

“Jay—please,” You whine, your voice scratchy and rough, and he shakes his head, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth while his eyes make a slow trek up to meet yours.

“After your little performance? Not a chance, sweetheart. I’ll fuck you when I’m good and ready, but for now? For now you’re gonna put on a show for me. Let me see how you stuff that needy cunt when I’m not here.” He smirks viciously down at you, wrapping his fist around his length, pumping slow and languid while your face heats with embarrassment.

The weight of his stare presses down on you, hot and heavy, as you guide a trembling hand between your legs, fingers dipping through your slick, peeling your lower lips apart with a breathy sigh. Despite his bravado, you know how bad he wants to be buried in your heat, cock shoved so deep that the tip batters against your cervix. It’s that thought alone that spurs you on, two fingers pushing into that wet, hungry hole with a moan. You hook them upwards, seeking, pressing against that tender little spot that makes your back arch, fucking yourself while he watches, his muscles coiled in waiting like a predator about to strike. It’s maddening—no matter how fast or how hard your fingers work into your pussy, it’s not enough, it’s never enough and he knows it.

“Feels good, huh, princess?” Jason huffs, pumping his dick while he watches you, taunting you with his words. “But you want more—can see it on that pretty face. Those little fingers just don’t cut it, do they? Course not, you need more. Need this fat cock, don’t you?” The whine that pours out of your throat is meek and pathetic, because he’s right and you can’t hide from him—not when you’re splayed out so beautifully like this.

How many nights have you spent lying on your sheets chasing an unsatisfying release at your own hands. It’s never as good as it is with him, because Jason knows you. Knows all the ways to make you keen and writhe and burst. “Go on,” He says, “let me hear you say it. Beg me real nice and I might give you what you want.”

God damn him, you think, because he never makes it easy, not on nights like this when the battle is still fresh in his mind, when the adrenaline is still plowing through his veins. And god damn you if it doesn’t light you right up, heating the already charged air between you both. Your head falls back with a thud against the table and he tuts at you, pulling your gaze back where he wants it—on him. There’s a lump in your throat despite your fingers still working your cunt, the shame of having to beg both igniting your desire and stoking the fire of your petulance. Gritting your teeth, you spit the words he wants to hear at him with indignant venom. “Please, Jason. Want—need your cock. Fuck me, baby, just—” He chuckles darkly, free hand moving to grip your chin, his thumb stroking the hinge of your jaw.

“Oh, I think you can do better than that.” Jason sucks a breath in through his teeth, his handsome face scrunched up with pleasure, and you catch sight of his other thumb swabbing over the tip of his cock, still rock hard and leaking between his clenched fist. “Try again.”

“Fuck!” You spit, fingers soaked as they dive in and out of your pussy with delicious friction. Swallowing what remains of your stubborn pride, you gaze at Jason from beneath your lashes, your eyebrows furrowing, features turning soft and pleading. “Please, baby,” Your voice lifts an octave higher—whiney, simpering—and it works. Jason groans, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. “Fuck me, baby. Please fuck me. Need you, need that cock—please? M’so empty without it. Wanna cum all over you, Jason. Please!”

“That’s my girl,” He croons, tilting his head to capture your mouth in a kiss that’s more teeth and tongue than anything else, distracting you enough that you cling to him, fingers carding through his hair while the head of his cock prods through your slit until it catches on your opening and he drives his hips forward, stretching you apart in one powerful, rough thrust.

It forces a scream from your throat that he swallows, bottoming out until his pelvis rests flat against the pocket of fat above your pussy. “Fuck—give me your fingers, baby. Put ‘em in my mouth.” Jason commands, and you know exactly what he wants, bringing your damp middle fingers up to his face, letting him suck the remnants of your efforts from your skin. You watch, hypnotized, as his eyes roll back and he starts to move, his teeth sinking into the digits while he fucks you.

There’s nothing quite like having a cunt full of Jason Todd. The sting that comes from the sheer size of his dick, the way it stretches you to your very limits, those gummy walls forced open wide to accept every angry stab of his length. He bullies his cock into you, pounds hard enough that your kitchen table slides across the floor with each stroke. But he follows right along with it, hammering into you while his tongue slides between your fingers, sucking on them like a damn pacifier. It’s sinful, filthy, and raw—makes you absolutely feral, crying out for him over and over again, free hand dragging harsh lines down his muscled back so hard you’re certain you’ve broken the skin.

“Mhmm,” he hums, letting your fingers fall from his mouth. “I know, baby. I fucking know—swear to god you were made for me. Take my cock so fucking well—shit!” He growls, righting his posture and reaching for your ankles. Jason locks both of them in one hand, closing your thighs together, making you even tighter, the fat lips of your pussy peeking out between your legs. The sight has Jason grunting like a wild animal. “That’s my pussy, huh?” He asks and you nod, completely lost to the mind-numbing pleasure he’s supplying. “Know it is. Always gonna be mine, baby. Gonna ruin this little cunt for anyone else. Gonna wreck it.”

The world shrinks until it’s just you and Jason, no concern for your neighbors who can undoubtedly hear the way your kitchen table knocks against the wall every time he pounds his dick into your pussy, not a single care other than him and the way he loves you—the brutal way he fucks you. Resting both of your legs against the side of his chest that isn’t cut open, he hugs them close, looks down at you, and god, you’ve never seen him quite like this. It’s mesmerizing.

And then he’s spreading your legs, pushing your shins up and into your chest, folding you in half. The new angle sends his cock even deeper, and you let out another rapturous cry, each stroke pummeling your cervix. He shushes you, fingers mashing your cheeks together in a tight grip. “Eyes on me, princess. Wanna see you fall apart.”

So you watch, helpless and at his mercy, when his free hand wedges between your legs, fingers seeking out the place where you’re stretched around his dick, stroking it lovingly before moving his attention to your stiff, aching bud. Jason tilts his head, dropping his chin to his chest, letting a drizzle of spit cascade down between you. It hits its mark, splashing against the hood of your clit and rolling down until he catches it with his thumb, sluicing it up and over your pearl.

“Don’t you dare hold back.” He commands, and all you can do is nod, tits practically tucked under your chin, body jolting from his incessant, endless assault. And then his fingers start to move and you wail. The friction is a welcome respite from the brutal way he’s handling you. Jason plays your clit like he knows what you’re feeling, flicking and tugging, applying enough pressure that the heat beginning to bloom in your belly burns hotter, a blazing inferno that’s about to consume you. “That’s it, let it out. Come on, angel, give it to me. Soak my fucking thighs.”

There’s always this brief moment before you cum—the universe stilling for the tiniest of seconds right before you unravel. You lock eyes with Jason in that instant, lip pinched between your teeth to try and muffle the noise you’re making. He nods at you, encourages you to let it go, tells you that he’s got you with just the look in his eyes, and it’s the truth. When time catches up to you in the next blink of your eyes, you fucking explode. Your back arches, knees slamming into your chest while you scream and quake beneath him. Jason wrangles you through your convulsions, pins your limbs to the table, coos and hushes you, lavishes you with praise while your cunt gushes around the intrusion of his cock. And what a fucking mess you’ve made.

His teeth grit when he feels your cum wet his stomach and thighs, dribbling down his balls, and that’s the final nail in the coffin for Jason. With a roar of your name, he pumps into you a final time before he, too, loses himself. Jason cums hard—so hard that he damn near goes blind and deaf, vision whiting out, ears ringing as he empties himself into your swollen, fucked out pussy. It’s endless, the thick ropes of spend that now paint your insides. So much that you can’t contain it, a few errant, creamy strands dripping out of the place your bodies are joined.

When he blinks his eyes open again, he catches as much as he can on his fingers, licks it into his mouth, and yanks you into his arms to kiss you. You’re barely conscious, but you kiss him back anyways, and Jason can’t stop the smile that curls his lips as he feeds you his cum from the tip of his tongue. Brushing your sweat matted hair off your forehead, his smile widens, peppering your reddened face with kisses. “You still with me, baby? Or have I fucked you stupid again?”

A halfhearted swat to the side of his head is your answer, and he laughs, the sound warm and infectious. There’s something so sweet about his laugh, it’s always made your chest swell, deep and gruff and perfect—just like him. You both stay locked together, his arms around you in a tight embrace, until your mind finally floats back into your body enough for you to remember how to be a person again. “Hey—as incredible as that was, and don’t you dare get an ego about it—you’re still very fucking injured, Jason.”

Another laugh, his lips smacking against yours in a final peck that has you grinning right back at him. “Yeah, alright, I hear you, boss.” Jason teases, right before easing his softening cock from inside you. There are wounds that need tending, but he’s not quite ready to let go of this moment, feeling whole with your body wrapped up in his arms. He presses his forehead to yours once more, warm breath fanning out against your heated skin. “I love you, baby.” He whispers it, soft and sweet, your heart melting at the declaration.

It’s a sentiment you return without hesitation, arms moving to cup his face—your whole world now held between the palms of your hands—and tilt his face back to level him with your stare. “I love you,” you answer, conviction heavy in your voice as you brush your nose against his “always.” Jason’s breath hitches in his chest, because nothing on this earth could have ever prepared him for the peace, the utter tranquility that loving you and being loved by you has brought him. Despite the lump in his throat, the tears misting his gaze, he echoes “always,” right back to you, kissing you tenderly until you’re both dizzy, until the world around you fades once again, until all that’s left is you and him. Just the way you like it.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #red hood smut #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x you #fanfic #jason todd fanfic #red hood fanfic #fanfiction #jason todd fanfiction #red hood fanfiction #DC comics

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heartshapedmisery · 7 months ago

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𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 | cooper adams

summary ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ in which cooper adams is your next-door neighbor you've always had doubts about, but once you stumble into his trap, you're caught in the dilemma of becoming his next victim. but who's to say you didn't mind being his prey? . . .

warnings ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ MINORS DNI ! ( 18+ | THIS FIC IS DARKER THAN MY NORMAL CONTENT, DNI IF YOU AREN'T COMFORTABLE!) | language, graphic smut, unprotected sex ( wrap it before u tap it y'all ), rough sex, bit of a blood kink?, knife kink, choking/suffocation, dacryphilia, m!receiving oral, daddy kink, breeding kink, hair pulling, degradation kink/name calling (whore), heavy age gap (reader is in early 20s and cooper is in mid 40s), let me know if i missed anything!

word count ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ 3.3k +

pairing ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ neighbor!cooper adams x fem!reader

author’s note ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ haven't seen trap yet but i'm still a slut for josh hartnett so do with that what you will :p i hope you enjoy! i had so much fun writing this, let me know what you think! :)

publishing date ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ august 21st, 2024 | © HEARTSHAPEDMISERY

When you first moved into your new house in Philadelphia, Cooper and Rachel Adams had been the first to welcome you into the neighborhood. They lived right next door, eager to get to know the new girl who had just moved into their subdivision.

You were fresh out of college and already swimming in debt (they honestly didn't know how you could even afford your house), so they had been kind enough to invite you over for dinner—which you happily accepted so you didn't have to spend any money on carry out. Plus, you figured getting to know new people would be nice so you didn't feel so alone in such a new place.

They had a nice home from what you could tell; it was warm and inviting as you walked through the living room, taking in the well lived-in space. You quickly learned they had a daughter, due to the family pictures scattered around the mantle above the fireplace, who had just gone off to summer camp the morning before. They spoke a lot about her at dinner. Well, Rachel did, her husband just nodded along to what she was saying as he quietly ate.

He didn't speak much; His eyes did most of his talking for him. God, his eyes. There was something about them that struck you so deeply, that you couldn't help but quickly look away every time you made eye contact with him. And he knew it too. He initially thought you were just shy, but after he caught your gaze lingering on his veiny hands and muscular forearms, he soon wondered if it was something else that made you react so heavily.

You couldn't deny that he was attractive. From his broad shoulders to his charming smile, he lit something ablaze deep in your gut that got harder and harder to ignore as the night went on.

After dinner, you migrated your way to the living room for a few drinks, continuing to listen to the story Rachel told about how her and Cooper met.

"Honey, could you get another bottle of wine from the cellar? This one's just about out," Mrs. Adams turned to her husband as she topped off her glass, rubbing his shoulder softly before he stood.

He quietly excused himself to the basement, leaving the two of you to retrieve another bottle. He returned moments later with an unopened bottle from 2007, which Mrs. Adams seemed elated about.

"Here, sweetheart. Let me get a corkscrew," he told her, setting the bottle on the coffee table and making his way towards the kitchen. Your eyes followed him for a moment, before falling to his feet to see the small red splotches his left shoe was leaving behind on the hardwood with each step.

Your eyes widened slightly, your mind jumping to conclusions to what that could possibly be. You carefully look at the basement door that he had left cracked open, a weird feeling suddenly washing over your senses.

"What is that on the bottom of your shoe?" Mrs. Adams asked the question you had been too afraid to, your eyes snapping to him as he came to a sudden halt and turned around.

"I dropped one by accident, I guess I stepped in some of it," he played stupid as he looked at the bottom of his shoe, grabbing a dish towel and wiping it clean.

For some reason, you didn't completely believe him.

"I didn't hear any glass shatter," you countered, meeting his gaze as it slowly turned cold.

"It was a case of box wine," he said condescendingly. "Probably better off spilled anyways, am I right?"

Rachel laughed in agreement, a smile cracking across his face once he realized he had her fooled. But he hadn't completely fooled you, your eyes narrowing before you let the whole thing go.

You didn't get up to leave until well after dark and were slightly buzzed, giving Rachel a hug and thanking her and Cooper both for inviting you into their home.

"Of course! We're so glad to have you in the neighborhood! The last guy who was at your place was a bit of a grump so it's refreshing to see a young and new face!" she told you sweetly, her husband still only nodding in agreement.

"Thank you again," you smiled, Cooper turning to open the front door for you. You waved back to Rachel one last time before making your way out the door. The sudden feeling of Cooper's hand on the middle of your back made your breath hitch in your throat, but you made sure to play it off with a smile.

"Have a good night, sweetheart," his tone was nice and friendly, but the way the nickname made you feel inside was the complete opposite. Surely, he meant nothing by it. His wife paid no mind to it, still smiling as you walked out.

So why did it make a sudden rush of heat pool in your lower abdomen?

"Goodnight," you said one final time before you heard the door close behind you, and you could finally release the uneven breath you had been holding.

You leisurely made your way back over to your house, drunk on the 3 glasses of wine you had and the smell of Cooper's cologne that still waivered around your nostrils.

As you got ready for bed, you wondered if you had just been overthinking everything. Was that really just wine on the bottom of his shoe? The thought ate away at you as you replayed the entire night through your head, yet all that was clear in your mind was his stone-cold gaze.

There was no life behind his eyes. No matter how hard he tried to hide it, no matter how happy he seemed. There was a darkness. A darkness that you could feel when he spoke to you. When he placed his hand on your back. You shuddered as you remembered it, a white-hot warmth spreading between your thighs. It alarmed you how unsettled you were by him, but you felt even more concerned with how much you liked it.

The following week was quiet.

Your house was belatedly furnished to your liking, the last of your boxes had arrived Thursday afternoon, and you were finally starting to feel comfortable in your new home by the time Saturday rolled around.

You decided to treat yourself to a day out, shopping around downtown until you felt like you were going to drop. When you got home, you decided it would be nice to return the favor of hospitality to your new neighbors by giving them a basket full of little things you had bought while you were out.

As you made your way over to their front porch, you noticed there was only one car parked in the driveway. Deep down, you hoped it was Rachel's since you weren't completely sure if you could handle talking to Mr. Adams alone.

Once you stood before the door, you raised you hand to knock, hesitating before doing so, only to find that the door was cracked open. Carefully, you opened the door enough to peek your head in and peer around. All the lights were off as if no one was home.

"Mrs. Adams? Mr. Adams?" you called out, hoping for a response so you didn't feel so creepy intruding on someone's home.

Nothing.

You walked in further, shutting the door behind you and slowly making your way through the house. Gently, you set the basket on the kitchen table, your eyes falling on the basement door.

You knew you shouldn't be snooping around like this, but you had to know what was behind that door. You needed to know you weren't crazy.

Your steps were light as you tiptoed across the hardwood, your hand gripping the doorknob and slowly turning it as anticipation coursed through your veins. You flicked on the lights to see a desolate staircase—seemingly normal enough.

You cautiously took the risk of walking down the steps, getting about halfway down before you could see the full basement. A sudden horror washed over your body as you took in the sight before you.

A large red stain sat in the middle of the concrete floor, the grungy discoloration making you realize a cheap case of box wine wouldn't make such a prominent stain. It was something else—something thicker.

The next thing that stood out was two chains drilled into the back wall with cuffs hooked to their ends, the mere sight making your stomach churn as you thought about what those were used for. Below them, sat an old mattress that had too many stains on it to count. Some of which were a deep red that matched the one on the floor, sending a chill down your spine.

"What do you think you're doing down here, sweetheart? "

Your entire body went rigid as you looked over your shoulder to see Cooper standing at the top of the steps. His eyes were dark as he watched you intently, a slight smile tugging at his lips as he watched you back up in fear when he began to descend the steps.

As he came into the light, a sudden buzz overcame your senses as you took in his edged appearance. He wore nothing but a white t-shirt that exposed his toned arms and a dark pair of jeans. He exhibited the same lifeless expression behind his unsettling smile, each step he took making you take one back until he had you pushed up against the wall.

"Answer me," he practically growled. His fist was in your hair before you could think twice, pulling your head back roughly to make you look him in the eye. He was so close you could smell his cologne, the same one that had you in a daze only a week prior. It made a low whine sound at the back of your throat as your watery eyes met his.

You knew this was all wrong, but you couldn't deny the fire that blazed through your stomach as you could feel his hot breath against your cheek, making it harder and harder to keep your morals.

"I wanted to do something nice for you," you croaked. Arousal swirled between your legs as his grip tightened on your hair, a grunt of frustration blowing past his lips.

"What with that gift basket you left upstairs? You're gonna have to do a lot more than that to win me over, baby."

You whined in fear, but that's what fueled your rapture. The terror that coursed through your body heightened the pleasure you were feeling as he manhandled you.

"I'll do whatever you want me to," you told him, your fingers moving to dance across his lower stomach and down his crotch, teasing him as you looked up at him with innocent eyes. You hesitated slightly before letting the next word tumble out of your mouth.

"Daddy."

The name seemed to flip a switch in his brain, his large hands grabbing you and throwing you down onto the mattress and beginning to undo his belt. The clinking noise of his buckle made a surge of excitement jolt through your chest, propping yourself up on your elbows as he got a good look at you.

You looked helpless below him as he pulled his belt from his pants, his eyes not leaving your as he unzipped his jeans.

"Get on your knees," he told you sharply, his tone low and graveled. You were quick to do as he said, sitting up to kneel on the mattress with your feet tucked underneath you.

A rush of arousal went straight to his lower half as he looked down on you, the power to corrupt you to no end eating away at his brain. It felt almost as good as a kill; the feeling of you putting your life in his hands, unaware of what he intended to do with it. Your obedience astounded him and he couldn't wait any longer to dip into you.

With one hand, he pulled himself from his boxers while the other cupped the back of your head, guiding you towards his already hard member.

"Open," he muttered sternly, his fingers raking through the hair at the nape of your neck as he eased his dick into your mouth, halting his movements once his tip reached the back of your throat. "Good girl, take it all for me."

Your lips closed around him, moaning as he began a steady pace of thrusting into your mouth. Both of his hands were tangled into your locks now, using them as leverage while he fucked your throat. Your palm grasped at his jean-clad thigh, your nails digging into the rough denim as he shoved his dick farther and farther. As much as you would allow.

"Fucking take it," he said through gritted teeth, harsh grunts ripping through his throat as your eyes began to water. You continued to look up at him, watching his face contort with pleasure while he used you like a fuckdoll, strings of saliva pooling out of the corners of your mouth.

You were practically soaked through your panties by the time he came down your throat with an aggressive tug on your hair, shoving you down so far on his cock that your nose brushed with the small tuft of hair along his pubic bone.

You pulled off of him with a gasp. Your chest heaved up and down as you tried to catch your breath and wipe away the streaks of mascara from your cheeks stained from tears. He couldn't get enough of how you were like putty in his hands, abiding by whatever he told you with such compliance.

"Good job, sweetheart,' he said in a softer manner. "Might not have to kill you after all."

Your stomach felt like it had caved in at his words, your eyes widening as he tugged the t-shirt over his head. But the threat still made your core throb, your thighs clenching together in response.

"Take your clothes off," he demanded, watching you carefully as you slowly unbuttoned your shirt. Your fingers trembled as you tugged your shorts down your legs, leaving you in nothing but your undergarments as he finally crouched down to your level.

You lay back on the dirty mattress, watching his hand as it reached into his back pocket to reveal a large pocket knife. It flipped open, glinting sharply in the light as he brought the blade to the supple skin of your neck. The metal was cool against your warm skin, making a shiver run down your spine.

His eyes danced across your lustful expression, his heart pounding from the thrill that surged through his body. He had you right where he wanted you, the blade slowly running down your chest before stopping at your sternum and hooking under the band of your bra.

You couldn't take your eyes away from him, eager to see what he would do next. With one swift movement, he ripped the knife right through the lacy fabric, tearing your bra at the front to reveal your chest. You watched his eyes dilate at the sight of your breasts, a low groan falling from his lips.

The blade trailed down your stomach, Cooper dragging the sharp point against your skin as it moved lower to your hips. His eyes were dark as he did the same with your panties as he did your bra, cutting them off of you with such aggression that you couldn't help but moan.

"Please, fuck me," you gasped, impatience taking over you as Cooper took in your naked appearance. You didn't realize he had nicked you in the process of removing your underwear, the crimson blood running down your hip thickly.

"You want me to fuck you?" he taunted, expressionless. His thumb smeared the blood around on your smooth skin, satisfied with the way it stained you. His large hand then gripped the back of your knee, pulling you closer to him and making you slide all the way down onto your back with your thighs on either side of his hips.

You only whined, needy for his touch. You didn't care how pathetic you seemed.

"I'll fuck you," he said with an aggravated tone. He quickly gripped your hips and flipped you over onto your stomach so you were trapped face down between his large body and the mattress. "I'll fuck you like the whore you are and you're gonna take it like a good girl, understand?"

His hand was in your hair once more, pulling your head back for you to look at him.

"Yes!" you sobbed, tears falling from your eyes as you ground your ass back against his crotch to get some sort of friction, which only angered him further. He shoved your head back down against the mattress, his free hand grasping his dick to line himself up with your entrance before shoving himself into you without warning.

"Yes, what?" he pried, his lips right at your ear as he pinned your body down with his.

"Yes, Daddy! I'll be your good girl I promise!" you cried, a raspy moan ripping from your throat once he finally thrust into you again, his hips beginning a slow but hard rhythm of fucking you. You reeled with pleasure, ecstatic with the feeling of his thick cock pounding your slick cunt over and over again.

With each brush of his tip against your cervix you thought you were done for, your thighs beginning to tremble as his pace quickened.

"That's it," he groaned, pulling you up from your vulnerable position by your hair, your back tight against his toned chest. "Taking all of me so good."

His arm snaked around your neck, locking your head in the crook of his elbow and tightening it. Your hands grasped at his forearm, your nails digging into his skin as he took the air right out of your lungs with each flex of his muscle.

"P-Please," you gasped, becoming scared as your mind went fuzzy and your vision blurred. He still continued his hard thrusts but ultimately loosened his grip on you after a few moments of torture.

You tiredly flopped back down to the mattress once he let go of you, his hands gripping your hips to gain more leverage as his thrusts became quicker and more sporadic. You could tell he was getting close to his release, but still had a few more tricks up his sleeve.

"You're not giving up on me yet, are you, baby?" he rasped, stilling his movements to flip you over onto your back one final time, before regaining his harsh pace.

You shook your head in response as you were unable to form coherent words—only disgruntled moans and pants that were music to his ears.

His rough hands gripped your leg and threw it over his shoulder to pound into you at a deeper angle, which had the coil in your stomach unraveling by the second. You were nearly there as well, your core clenching around him desperately. His hands moved to their rightful spot on your neck, restricting your airflow once again.

"Fuck me, Daddy," you moaned, making intense eye contact with him as he continued to drill into you. "Fuck me full of your cum!"

Your words made him shudder, his hips stuttering as he ultimately tipped over the edge of pleasure and came deep inside of you.

You let yourself succumb to your orgasm at the sound of his deep, guttural groan as he came, clawing at his muscular back (which was sure to leave marks) to bring yourself back to reality.

You lay limp on the mattress as he pulled himself from your used cunt with a hiss. You felt brain-dead, overwhelmed with the memory of his cock using you to no end. Your teary eyes met his, and all he could do was smile down at your fucked-out expression.

"Don't look at me like that, baby. We're only getting started."

tags ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ @one-of-thewalkingdead @acidqueensstuff @dirtylittlefairytales @rosaleelovesdilfs @lickit-up @prozacwhorehouse @lilly3434 @hereforthehitsbaby @redpillbluepill @iloveanthonyramos @littlered0000 @rubyfruitjungle @katyushakoschenka @queenofgotham2316 @pastelpinkflowerlife @angelsgalore @strangererotica @lustkitty69 @ajs-222 @coopers-bunny @a-movie-that-youve-never-seen @cattt777

#josh hartnett #trap #cooper adams #cooper adams x reader #cooper adams smut #scarlet was here!

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flokali · 1 year ago

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— Concept: Student Yandere and Professor Darling

Warning: GN! Reader, blackmail, n/on-con, d/ub-con, age gap, student-teacher relationship, push-over reader, unfair ending, n/oncon recording, uhh ask to tag!

A/N: just a concept that plagued me for a while... hhhhhhh;; i'm so normal ab this

Any dynamic that involve an authority figure and a subordinate, no matter how innocent they may initially seem, are doomed from the start for both of the parties involved. There’s always going to be an underlying power imbalance, someone who holds the authority over the other; there is no nice way to put it, unfortunately.

Most of the time, in fics, I see a lot of Yan professors creeping on their students, but the thought of a student Yan harassing their beloved professor has been plaguing my mind.

The relationship starts sweetly, you’ve noticed a certain student in your course that’s been falling behind, making mistakes that should have long been addressed, their work is always late or partially done and you’re growing slightly annoyed at them for wasting your time and misusing theirs as well. You ended up offering them private tutoring when you found out you were the only professor’s whose class who they’d been treating like a joke.

They reject it immediately; seemingly embarrassed that you’d even offered. You try to calm their nerves down, you’re pretty young yourself, you only graduated a few years ago and you won’t charge them, it won't be a daily thing but they can pop into your office so you can review and work on assignments and other material they’ve been failing at. The hesitant look on their face seems to slowly be melting off the longer you explain your reasoning.

You continue insisting, you lay out the facts as they are; they’re a brilliant student who has been passing all other courses and extracurricular activities with flying colors, so why is that your course has become such a challenge to them? You have seen them work and the way they behave during class, you’ve even noticed how some students go to them to try and clear up any questions and ask to study together with them. You’d heard your colleagues rave about them being easily one of the college’s star students, so it’s either that they’re making shit up and lying to their peers, which you sincerely doubt since you’ve seen their works, or they were purposefully trying to fail your class.

Maybe they thought it’d be easier, decided to try it and got it in their head they didn’t have to try – after all, it wasn’t as if all of the work they’ve handed is bad, there’s some clear understanding of what they’re doing, it’s just that they keep on messing up some things, even if it means inconsistencies in their work, the assignments that made up less percentage of the overall grade were done well enough that you could fail them but anything that was actually important was clearly half-assed. They were nailing the basics in one essay and then completely misrepresenting them on the next.

You explain your concerns; you’re genuinely worried your class might hold them back from graduating with their peers, if things kept going on like this, they’d fail your class and if they did, they’d have to repeat the semester and risk graduating a year or so late. It’s not the end of the world to repeat a semester, but it’s avoidable in their case and you don’t understand why they seemingly insist on failing.

It’s then that they pull out a card they’d been holding on to dearly for a situation such as this, they’d hooked you in with a months long performance and it all relied on this moment, it was a disgustingly perfect story meant to pull at your heartstrings and lead you into their honey sweet trap;

They start going on about a sob story about their parents’ jobs and finance, how they had been struggling for a while since their parents cut them partially off for choosing a college out of their town, and how they’re supposed to provide for themselves and pay rent and bills, about how their schedule is always so busy trying to balance college, their friendships, mending their relationship with their parents, and their job on top of all the studying they’ve been doing. Your class had unfortunately been the least of their concerns and that they’re immensely sorry to have worried you and that they are willing to do anything to make up for their past grades. They can’t believe they’d let themselves go in your course and they’re deeply ashamed because they enjoyed it greatly, but there was little they could to catch up now.

You can empathize with such a dilemma, being fresh out of college yourself, the memories of balancing relationships, work, and academics are still freshly etched into your mind.

They clearly seem burned out and your heart aches seeing a student as promising as them dim down so drastically. You’d hate to be one class that impedes them from graduating on time, you don't want to be the lone profesor responsible for slowing down such a valuable asset to society.

You sit them down and try to offer them some advice, you were in a similar situation when you were in college yourself, you try to explain the ways you managed to survive and bypass college, going into detail about your own problems and how you were able to live through it all. They seem visibly more relaxed during the conversation, nodding along and explaining their own feelings and hardships, you both manage to sympathize with each other and come to an arrangement.

It’s completely under the table since you are worried about what it might look like, but from now on until the end of this semester you’d use a more relaxed, less strict grading system for them, after all, they did have a legitimate reason for their behavior and they were willing to make up for it. That is, under the condition that they start taking tutoring classes from either yourself or a fellow classmate, they weren’t able to balance the studying schedule necessary so you’d try and manage at least one aspect of it for them to try and make their life a little bit easier. You reiterate that this must not come out, fully aware that you were breaking multiple rules but you were too much of a bleeding heart.

They agree gladly, but not before asking if you could be the tutor, when you’d questioned their request they explain themselves, seemingly embarrassed for their own reasoning;

“I don’t want it to get out that I’m failing your class, professor…” The smile they wear seems genuine and shy and you nod in understanding, college students are only older teenagers, after all, most of them are still stuck in their high school mentality and you wouldn’t put it past a bunch of immature people to try and mess with someone who was struggling. While the mindset eventually wears off, you understand why they could be self-conscious about it.

What you don’t know is that they’ve been planning for something like this to happen from the get go, always going out of their way to purposefully present themselves as a stupid, pathetic and incompetent student that would need their hot professor’s (your) help to pass the course.

During your first couple of sessions they work extra hard to make themselves seem as ditzy and clueless as possible, making as many mistakes and errors as humanly reasonable without getting you too annoyed at them. They even begin to dress in slightly more provocative ways than they would have before, their speech slowly morphs into a more flirtatious tone, their touches being lingering on your shoulders for longer than necessary, but you brush it off, trying to ignore the signs. Opting instead to think of it as a silly crush, choosing go try to focus on helping them get through this semester with either an above average grade.

It didn’t take too long for their grades to get better but with the current pace, you were afraid it wouldn’t be enough.

So, you ignore the uncomfortable, sinking feeling in your gut and suggest making your tutoring sessions more frequent - instead of once a week maybe twice, or even thrice if you could fit it into your schedule, if it was really necessary.

You didn’t expect them to suggest going to your place.

Originally, you’d suggested either the library or a cafe, but they said they felt too embarrassed and self-conscious at the idea of their peers watching them, they claimed they’d probably make fun of them for needing help for a course they’d been taking for almost a whole semester at that point. It’s silly, they know, but they can’t shake that shame off.

They insist on your place, but you reject the idea, they say it’s either there or at their place, they point out that anywhere else and you both risk either staff or some of the student body seeing you both together and getting the wrong idea. The conversation goes on for hours until you’re too exhausted to continue arguing with them and give in.

They are a good person, right? Even if the thought of a student knowing where you lived made you uncomfortable, it wasn’t like they’d do anything about it… right?

You try to limit the study space to your living room, the bathroom, and the kitchen every once in a while if you notice the snacks you had brought weren’t enough, but never further than that. Your bedroom and office were completely off limits, you’d made it explicitly clear that if you caught them wandering too far you’d have no choice but to kick them out and stop the tutoring, possibly even having to call the campus’ authorities if you felt they were getting too out of line – your reputation be damned.

They also were only allowed to come over during the weekends and on specific weekdays where no one would be able to catch them entering your apartment. You didn’t even want your neighbors to see them, even if you looked close in age you didn’t want to hear anything about a potential secret lover sneaking into your house.

They agree and promise to follow every single rule you’d put in place, they swear.

But it doesn’t take long for them to start going back on their word and start “exploring” your living space, it started small – simply walking around your living room, examining framed pictures, looking over books, memorizing the placement of your trinkets and decor, making a mental note of the colors you used in the space, they make sure to remember to try and look up where you got your cushions and everything, they start looking into you fridge and pantry to make see what you eat, if there’s any indication of a possible food allergy; it’s all investigative work for your future together.

It’s not too long before they’ve memorized your living room and are drawn to the rest of your house. They've gone to your bedroom and studied the space, taking note of the way you made your bed and how many pillows you have, they also have made a list of products you use and like, such as scents and soaps, to make sure your transition to their place is as smooth as possible. Soon, they could very well draw a floor plan of your place and recreate your home in the most basic of softwares.

The only reason you haven’t caught up to them is because they’ve taken to spiking your drinks with sleep medication, strong enough dosages that you’ll be knocked out for a while, but not enough that you’ll realize you were drugged.

It’s during your sleeping state that the next part of their plan starts to take action. They’ll purposefully plant evidence in your home of their presence and snap pictures, suddenly their underwear is in your laundry basket, and why are you wearing their hoodies to sleep, huh? They’re meticulously planned and staged pictures that make it look like you were engaging in a romantic relationship, but it’s not enough — they need more, something more extreme. More incriminating, something that would absolutely destroy your career and reputation if it came out.

What about a picture of them going down on you? Or one with their cum all over your face? Your naked figure cuddling up to their bare chest? Some makeup to look like hickies could look realistic in pictures too, you know. Maybe them on top of you… or you on top of them? Or one where your lips are sucking their fingers like a —! Ah, the thought has them blushing! All of these photos are like their dreams come true! You look like such a perfect spouse, taking their love~ They make sure to clean up the space, but they’re growing bolder and more confident in their work.

They even have videos of themselves jacking off on top of you, but they’re always so good at making it seem like you’re awake and participating in these activities! It really does look like you’re helping them get off with your own mouth.

You’re such a naughty professor seducing your innocent, sweet student like that!

It’s sick, they’re sick and they know it fully well but they don’t care, as long as they don’t get caught – there’s no way in hell they’ll stop.

Their grades begin improving and there’s no longer any fear of them failing your class, in fact you’d go as far to say they’ve easily become one of your best students in terms of grades. Things seem to be looking up and you’re pretty proud of yourself for having had a positive impact on them, which is why you come to the conclusion they won’t be needing your tutoring anymore.

You call them over to your office after classes, making sure to be as nice as possible. At first you were annoyed and put off by them, their initial behavior was unsettling and persistent, but after a couple of months of getting to know them you’ve grown to care for them and genuinely wish them the best, you’d pointed out how teaching them had been a joy and you’d always end the sessions feeling better than before, which is why you’d chosen to end the tutoring. You lay out the facts as they are, their grades have improved and there’s no longer any threat of them failing your class, you’d also be risking people misunderstanding the situation if it went any longer, if word came out you’d been using a different rubric to grade them until recently and that they’d been going over to your place, it would simply look bad for both of you. You’d risk getting sanctioned, possibly even losing your job if things were taken in the wrong way, and they could repeat the semester or even have their work in your class be null and having to take a new course entirely, if not even being kicked out.

There’s a minute of silence between the two of you, the air is thick and you wonder if you should have been softer in your delivery as you watch them process your words.

It takes them a while, you decide to give them the time because you have indeed noticed how they’d seem to grow ever so attached to you and they might take this a bit too personally, but you’re soon starting to grow increasingly uncomfortable as the silence continues.

You’re about to say something again, try to soften the blow with some generic encouragement about how they’ll do well regardless of you being their tutor or not, when you hear them chuckle softly under their breath.

You’re taken aback, your eyes widen in surprise and you unconsciously lean back into your chair, but that seems to have further encouraged their laughter as soon they’re covering their face with the back of their hand as they double over in laughter.

It’s strange but you decide to give them a few seconds to regain their composure, maybe this was a nervous habit? You’d heard of people who’d laugh when anxious, but you’d never seen something so theatrical.

They slowly sit back up, wiping tears from their eyes as a few chuckles escape their smiling lips. They haven’t fully calmed down but seem to be making an effort to continue the conversation nonetheless.

“Ah, professor,” your last name tumbles from their lips in a joyous manner but their eyes look icy as they stare at you, their voice feels more aggressive even if the words came out from a smile, “don’t be so ridiculous, I think things are working pretty well as they are, I have no desire to change our… relationship.”

You’re taken by surprise, their word choice feels odd and purposeful, but you insist regardless.

“There is no relationship between us,” you state, “I am your professor, do you understand? That means that if I say your tutoring is over, it’s over; I have been going easy on you and helping you out but do not misinterpret my intentions, you are my student and that’s where our acquaintanceship ends. If you think you’ll continue needing help, I’m certain our TA will be more than glad to step up and help you out.”

They smile as they take their phone out of their pocket and your stomach drops for a second, wondering what on earth they could have there. They slide it towards you after unlocking it, they’re carefree in their handling of the device and your nerves start to rise, a gut wrenching feeling settles in your stomach, you don’t really understand what you’re seeing at first but once you do you feel your blood run cold.

You don’t even realize they’ve walked behind your chair, too focused on the picture of your naked body cuddling up to their equally nude form. They’re smiling, tenderly caressing your bare shoulders, embracing your body in such a loving manner it looked like you were lovers. When… When did they take this?

Your voice is shaking but they don’t answer you, instead opting to crouch beside you and show you the hundreds of incriminating pictures themselves.

They start telling you a story based on the pictures, the one they seemed to be telling you even if you knew that everything they depicted was fake, about a promiscuous professor that seduced their student, coaxed them into a relationship and took advantage of their position to influence the student into falling in love with them.

You want to tell them it won’t work, threaten to call the dean or the campus police, but they quickly clear out any confusion; “Would anyone believe a student would seduce a teacher and that it’s not the other way around?”

You know exactly what they mean; you’re the professor, you hold the authority. You had never been able to put a stop to it because you had no idea what they were doing but that didn’t matter, it was your word against theirs and they had “evidence”.

They seem proud of themselves too, telling you about all the ways they set up the rooms and photos to make sure they looked as real as possible. They’d taken their clothes and belongings over to your place in secret, made sure to apply makeup in the right places with the correct lighting, it seriously felt like an art they’d perfected.

You ask them what they could possibly want, clearly it couldn’t be only your tutoring if they were going this far. They smile and tell you they simply want a relationship with you, one that goes beyond a professor and a student; from that day onwards they wanted to be your lover.

You want to say no, but they remind you of the position you’re in; “You know, I’ve got these backed up in a bunch of places, it’d be a shame if one leaked, right, professor?”

You feel numb as they lock the door of your office and guide you on top of your desk, you barely even register them going down on you - stripping you naked and giving you oral. From that day onward, you were a prisoner to your own student.

Everyday, they’d act like any other person taking your classes, going to college, making friends, as if when your work day ended they didn’t torment you under the guise of love. Making themselves into your lover without your consent, as if you weren’t their professor, as if they weren’t your student. They celebrate your birthday and make you celebrate theirs, you go on dates outside of town so as to not be caught, there are times you almost forget the perverse nature of your relationship - but it always comes back to haunt you. They always come back to haunt you.

They make sure not to show any of the images to anyone for as long as they’re going to the college. They need to keep an eye on you, make sure your looks and personality don’t charm any other student - they’d hate to get rid of their classmates due to your unknowing seduction. They’re so good at acting like they weren’t bending you over your kitchen counter the minute they followed you home, you’d almost believe they were only your innocent, well meaning student if they didn’t send you videos of you two fucking as extra-curriculum activities.

They also take your courses religiously to make sure to always be in contact with you; you could never escape them, they’ll follow you home and come inside even if you try to shut the door behind you. Whenever you tried changing the lock they'd find a way to break in anyway, on campus they’d sneakily follow you everywhere and harass you. Those who notice, the few that do, think of it as cute, an innocent puppy crush that would fade by next semester.

It’s not until they gets their diploma three years later that they releases a drive full of the videos and pictures, making sure to add dates and location, everything to prove you were fucking a student. You were a whore of a professor seducing their students.

You’re fired immediately and it’s not long until your friends and family cut contact with you for seducing a poor college student and using your power over them as leverage. Nobody wants to hire you, they’d make sure to document every single dirty detail of your relationship so as to ruin your reputation until you’d be forced to turn to the only person who didn’t turn their back on you.

You can only walk into their open arms as they suggest finally moving in together, possibly getting married, and maybe even having a couple of children now that they have graduated and received their degree.

But even through it all, they still have the audacity to call you their beloved “professor”.

Characters: Lisa (GI), Scaramouche (GI), Al-Haitham (GI), Kaeya (GI), Ayato (GI), Jing Yuan (HSR), Luocha (HSR), Aventurine (HSR), Vyn (TOT), Rafayel (L&DS), Ibara (ENSTARS), Eichi (ENSTARS), Yuzuru (ENSTARS), Cater (TWST), Rook (TWST), Kylar (DOL), Whitney (DOL), literally anyone you want really (TT)

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ppyopulii · 3 days ago

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📋 the study of prosody.

PREVIEW. pros·o·dy. noun. the patterns of stress and intonation in a language. an example of its use would be the study of the following phrases: i.) if you want me, ii.) if you want me, iii.) if you want me.

FEATURING. stargazer!yoon jeonghan x linguist!reader GENRE(S). yearning, fluff, friends to lovers, suggestive (minors beware.) LENGTH | WC. <20min | 3.4k words EXPLICITS. cursing, one (1) mention of a spider, r ends up on yjh’s lap, car makeout session, light marking, grinding, yjh calls r sweetheart, lowk sub!r & sub!yjh (they are so effing down bad for one another)

JAY’S MUSINGS. been in the Craziest jeonghan brainrot for So long. someone help. for my beloved ashi, @junplusone, as we will now unfortunately promptly disappear again as stem major curriculums pick up once more. i offer u my love thru begging jeonghan. tysm for beta-reading. (p.s. slightly inspired by @mochacoda's night d(r)ive!! there is so much love written into her words it consumes me whole. pls go take a look <3)

YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE. if you want me, you better speak up by ljh. understand by keshi. striptease by carwash. touch tank by quinnie. better half by jeonghan (ft. omoinotake).

i.) if you want me,

“Bog time?”

Jeonghan looks up from the GPS on his phone, an eyebrow quirked up at your out of the blue words. He has the address of a random park punched into the navigation, finger hovering over the Start Route button, but he easily swipes out of the tab as if it was a mere thought in the back of his mind.

“And what might you mean by,” he lazily curls two fingers in the air in quotation marks, “Bog time?”

To his question, you simply offer your phone to him. There’s a curve to his smile as he takes the device and stares at the screen; it’s directions to a wetland park about nine minutes out from your location, in some suburban neighborhood. Pictures show a few benches around the small pond and a trail leading behind to the forest.

You beam at him, eyes sparkling in the sun’s last rays of the day, like a pet showing its owner a present they brought back from the outside. “A bog! Have you ever been to one?”

Jeonghan hands you back your phone, fingers sliding against yours, and looks to the sky thoughtfully. He rests his hand on the steering wheel of his sleek black Toyota Camry, the leather glinting with shine, tapping his finger to a beat you wished you knew.

“Not until tonight, I haven’t,” is his smooth answer; and before you know it, he’s pulling the shift into drive and pressing hard on the gas.

Loving Yoon Jeonghan is easy.

It’s more of an afterthought for you at this point. You grab the last bag of his favorite chips at the convenience store? He’s planning his move to steal it as if you weren’t going to surrender it to him without a fight, but you play along anyway to indulge him. There’s a spider in the kitchen? He’s cheering you on for moral support as you grab a cup and some paper to trap it, but it takes one tremble of your hands for him to click his tongue, say you’re too slow, and get the job done for you.

His quick-witted, ever playful banter keeps you on your toes. You thrive in the presence of him like a sponge soaking up as much water as it can—except, unfortunately for you, you’re constantly on the verge of having it all flood out and drowning in it.

Because while loving Yoon Jeonghan is easy, wanting him is a whole different story.

Loving doesn’t result in an ache in your heart every time he talks about his latest date with someone. Loving doesn’t cause the burning pit in your stomach that surfaces when he leans over, just right, to whisper something only meant for your ears.

Love, to you, is the noun you hold for Jeonghan, stored in your hands when you light-heartedly swat him away with a tsk—and want is the verb that jumps out of you when he effortlessly catches your wrist in his hand, honey eyes gleaming in your lamp’s light.

“Yah, we’re here.”

His teasing tone snaps you out of your thoughts, and you blink in surprise. There’s no parking lot; his car is stalled on the side of the road, the headlights flickering for a moment before turning off.

“Where’s the bog?” you tilt your head in different directions, trying to get an unsuccessful glimpse of your surroundings.

Jeonghan snorts and pushes a lock of blonde hair behind his ear. “You tell me, dude. Can’t see shit out here.”

“Language,” you scold, before unlocking your side of the car and stepping out onto the sidewalk.

The neighborhood is quiet save for the occasional hoot of an owl and the wind’s loud escapades through the trees. You shiver and tuck yourself into the knitted sweater you had chosen for tonight, the wind picking up ever so slightly as if to mock your choice of clothing. Jeonghan is on your side before you can even think of yanking him out of the car, much to your dismay. He shuts your door and shines the flashlight of his phone onto the dewy lawn grass.

“What even is a bog?” Jeonghan queries as the two of you begin to walk in a seemingly random direction. “Just a wetland?”

“Basically, yeah. The thing we’re going too isn’t really a bog. More of a pond with some swamp aspects. I just think bog’s a funny word.”

Your shoes scrape against the cement. From Jeonghan’s light, you can see up ahead that just across the road is the sign from your Google Search, signifying your destination is close. Your eyes trace the trail winding behind it into the forest.

“Explain it to me.”

Startled, you glance back. Jeonghan’s face is faintly illuminated from the light bouncing off of you. If you were to focus well enough, you would be able to outline the slope of his cheekbone and the way some strands of his hair brushed against it ever so softly.

“The word bog? Are you serious? It’s really nothing,” you try to argue, turning back around.

“Come on. Try me.”

You heave a sigh. “Alright. If you want me to.”

“Yah. ‘Course I want you to.”

The air feels a little thicker now, but you swallow the feeling back and press forward as the grass gets taller. You wish it was warmer; maybe, if you were lucky, you’d be able to hear the night calls of a toad, or see fireflies milling about the shoreline.

“Gaelic origin, mostly. Just an adjective that describes something that’s soft and damp. There’s also some roots back to Ireland—they had a word that describes moist ground.”

While you’re explaining, Jeonghan carefully takes the lead, shining his flashlight onto the wooden sign marking the entrance to the trail and oncoming wetland. He hums in response.

“Nerd.”

You smack his shoulder blade.

“Ow—fuck, okay, I’m sorry!”

He’s laughing, and like the death of a star your anger explodes into oblivion, rolling your eyes good-naturedly as you shove him with your elbow. “You were the one who asked.”

“Ah, I suppose you’re right.” You glance at Jeonghan from within your peripherals while he speaks. There’s a flicker of surprise as you take note of his small smile that curls with an emotion you can’t quite read.

“Can’t help it, y’know,” he muses aloud. “To want is a cruel thing.”

ii.) if you want me,

Your breath evens as the concrete path gradually gives way to wooden boardwalk. The two of you walk quietly side by side, the water’s surface still and reflecting the moon’s light from above. Jeonghan had mentioned earlier that it was a waxing gibbous, and that a super moon would be occurring in a few nights’ time.

Moments were always stolen with Jeonghan—not because you two didn’t have the time for each other, but more so because you two seemed to have all the time in the world to spend in each other’s presence. Inseparable like the twin stars marked by the constellation dubbed Gemini, you grew so used to his existence that it took outrageously spontaneous adventures like this one to really cherish him.

Or, in this particular case, curse him and his ever observant nature.

“You want me to do what?”

“Just come here,” he urges, opening his arms a little wider.

Your hesitance is palpable, but ultimately, you relent, wiggling your way into his warm embrace. His hoodie is worn with seasons of journeys that you’ve accompanied him on, and it’s always been a comfort you’ve relied on for warmth.

Just… never with him alongside it.

“There you go,” Jeonghan’s lips skim the crown of your hairline and you shudder, the motion backfiring on you when he only presses you closer to him. “Y’know, you usually know better than to wear the thinnest knitted sweater known to man on a night like this.”

“You could’ve just given me your hoodie, you know.”

He shrugs. “Didn’t want to do that. Then I’d be freezing. This is a win-win.”

“You’re insufferable,” you say, and bury yourself further against the fabric.

The self-proclaimed bog is forgotten as the two of you find more interesting things to take notice of. Once more, a comfortable quiet overtakes you two, with your eyes following the sway of a tree’s branches and Jeonghan focused on the sky above. A moment to journal about later, maybe, with a fern taken and pressed to be studied after it dried. Perhaps tonight you’d snag the formidable prickles of the pine tree nearby. You’d always be interested in how words took shape after nature, the conifer’s history included.

As if on cue, Jeonghan’s voice is pulling you out of your thoughts in asking about the tree before you two. You respond in turn about the specifics of the pine.

“Doesn’t that have another meaning? Pine?”

“Mhm,” you hum noncommittally. “The tree existed first, then the verb pine came about later; means to long for or seek after, similar to yearning. They both actually stem from two different Latin words—pine tree from pinus and pining from poena. Cool how they ended up as the same word though, huh?”

Jeonghan is surprisingly still for a while. Leaves rustle nearby, being stirred by the wind, and you bite your lip.

Even though he’s heard you ramble about nonsense background contexts of words a thousand times over, the silence scares you. Sometimes you still fear Jeonghan will be bored by your constant, monotone voice, as if he was only listening to reply rather than understand.

“Hey, look up. D’you see those three stars up there?”

You glance above the tree you’re studying and nod against the fabric of his hoodie. The three stars in question are a straight shot line, banded together diagonally like a belt. Above those, another group of stars come together to form the torso of a man, one arm held out to hold something akin to a bow.

“Orion and his belt,” you confirm. “You’ve told me his story before—the hunter who boasted about killing all animals, right? I remember arguing about the right myth to follow.”

“Yeah, well, there’s more to it,” Jeonghan chuckles and wraps his arms a smidge tighter around you. You try to ignore the electricity shooting through your veins, piercing your heart like a lightning strike.

He lowers his face so that his mouth is close, so close, right by your ear. Freeing one of his hands from your embrace, he tilts your chin up with his fingers ever so slightly, pointing at a faint cluster of stars somewhere above and to the right. You squint your eyes to focus better as Jeonghan softly begins his story.

“The Pleiades were seven sisters who were sought after by Orion. Their father was Atlas, the Titan condemned to holding up the sky, and once barred to his eternal punishment, Orion took this chance to begin his pursuit. He was persistent in his chase for the sisters, wanting to win any of their favors through any means possible. Zeus eventually had enough of Orion’s attempts and turned the Pleiades into doves to free them; however, they asked to be placed in the sky to be closer to their father. That’s how the constellation we know of now came to be formed. Unfortunately for them, Orion took to the skies soon after and continues to chase them to this day.”

It’s your turn to fall speechless. Something about the tale makes your bottom lip jut out in a solemn expression; eternal punishment of any form, be it to hold up the sky for forever or to be chased unwillingly by a hunter in various forms, makes your heart ache. You stubbornly hope there is an end to your own suffering, fingers shaking as Jeonghan pulls his hand away from cupping your face.

“Don’t worry, though,” he whispers; his tone is so gentle it has you leaning into him subconsciously. “The Pleiades are safe. All Orion can do is long for, or pine after them, as you so dutifully defined for me earlier.”

“I’m glad.” Your voice, low and full of emotion, is almost lost to the wind as it begins to surge. “Sometimes feelings just can’t be returned, no matter how much we desire them to be. I would want them to be happy.”

You stare woefully at the sisters. Jeonghan’s gaze remains fixated on you.

“Me too.”

iii.) if you want me.

As you stare up at Orion and the Pleiades, your gaze rests on the silhouette of the tree before the two of you. The branches sway in the wind, catching the breeze, and you trail the outline of the tree across the sky. From just the right angle, Orion seems to lean against the pine, his weight being supported by the sturdy evergreen like it had grown specifically for him to rest upon. The thought makes you smile.

“Isn’t it crazy?” comes your muffled murmur from against the material of his hoodie; Jeonghan makes a noise for you to continue.

“Just.. how perfectly nature fits within itself sometimes, like one big recurring metaphor. As if the mother of the universe finds her favorite verses in the stars and rewrites them over and over because she can’t get enough of them.”

The wind begins to die down; there’s no need for you to be bundled up within Jeonghan’s arms, but you stay, waiting with bated breath for his response.

“How so?”

Perhaps it’s the late hour that boldens you with no room for overthinking, your phones tucked neatly away in your pockets as to not distract you. Your heart is throwing itself against your ribcage as you muster up a confession.

“There’s so many tales like Orion and the Pleiades, as sad as it is. But there are just as many triumphs as there are tragedies, all recreated over and over. The universe—she’s trying to tell us something. She’s telling us to find love in each other, and therefore, in ourselves.”

You swallow back any possible regret and finish, “Personally, I think I’ve received the message pretty well through you.”

There’s a sharp intake of air. You feel Jeonghan exhale a breath, tingling your skin, and his lips are so close they kiss the shell of your ear as they move.

“I agree. I guess we are yet another recreation of her favorite tale of love, then.”

Something shifts in you; an unspoken agreement that has your head reeling when he doesn’t let you slip away from him on the way back to the car. Your fingers are grasped lightly in his, and soft giggles tumble out of you when he fumbles to open the door of your side. They fall silent as he slides in, adjusting the chair back and looking up at you expectantly. His hand is out for you to take.

“Well?” is all he says, and the single word’s implication hits you like a freight truck.

Aren’t you going to be with me?

The wind howls, delighted and amped up from the excitement swirling within you. Your hair whips around your face protectively, tears beginning to stain the apples of your cheeks. There is nothing in your mind except for the way Jeonghan’s wisps of blonde hair fall away from their place behind his ears. You ache to fix them.

“Are you sure?” is all you can croak out.

His eyes shine in the moonlight, and with no hesitation he replies, “Yes, if you want me.”

Your weight rests on his lap in a painfully easy manner. The car door clicks shut and is swiftly locked, and before you know it, Jeonghan’s hands are settled around your waist.

“Hi.” You squeak ever so eloquently.

Jeonghan has his face mere inches away from you. His nose tickles yours in a sheepish laugh. “Hi to you, too.”

“Did you mean it?” you blurt out with trembling fingers, daring to clutch onto the hem of his sweater as if he’ll blow away with no warning. “Are you serious about this?”

“I haven’t even said anything yet,” he teases. “Are you saying I’ve been implying something tonight?”

“I want to say so. I want to believe that you have been.”

The way your name falls off his tongue is pure silk, and you swear he’s reinvented a new meaning to it just now. Who knew that meanings could be born from different intonations?

“Please,” Jeonghan breathes your name again; it’s a borderline whine that rushes the air out of your lungs. “Just let me want you. I’ve been denied it for so long.”

The kiss that follows is searing, burning with the desire you’ve wrestled with shoving back into your throat until now. You aren’t entirely sure who’s lips pressed to who’s first, but what you are sure of is the moan that slips from Jeonghan’s mouth, his breathing harsh and ragged.

“Fuck,” he mutters, and you have half the mind to tell him to mind his language again when he interrupts you by squeezing your waist. “You’re so goddamn hot.”

Laughter bubbles out of you. Jeonghan glances up at you in surprise, his eyelashes fluttering with confusion. You giggle and cup his cheek.

“Weren’t you just versing poetry to me thirty seconds ago? What happened to that?”

He just shrugs and leans forward to press a feverish kiss to your lips. “The duality of man.”

“The duality of man, indeed,” you murmur.

Your fingernails scrape along his neck enticingly, tangling in the tufts of his blonde hair. You give an experimental tug and revel in the gasp he lets out, a whimper being drawn out of you.

Jeonghan tilts your chin up and begins to pepper your jawline with kisses, each more passionate than the last. He’s pushing your sweater’s neckline to the side by the time he reaches your collarbone, spurred on by your quiet moans and high intones of his name, nipping marks into your skin. Red blooms across your shoulders from his love bites.

“I didn’t know you were a biter,” you quip through gasps. “Should’ve figured, though.”

His fingers, running along your curves from under your sweater, suddenly pinch your butt. You yelp and whine at his antics while Jeonghan just laughs.

“Better than you, sweetheart,” he smirks, rubbing circles into your skin as a silent apology. “All bark, no bite.”

You kiss him to shut him up, tongue sliding against his before beginning to suck on his bottom lip. He tastes like the honey lemon tea you shared earlier at the cafe. You wonder if you taste the same.

A wave of heat scores through you at the thought, wanting nothing more than to eternally be enveloped by his scent, his taste, his everything. You don’t even realize how hard your hips are pressing into his until he breaks the kiss with a groan, bucking up into you with a delicious sigh.

You feel him, hard and hot and sorely needy, and you take the chance to grind back down against him, adoring the way his shuddering lips chase yours. The world is lost to you; all you know is Yoon Jeonghan, and he simply is enough.

“I want you,” you suddenly say, pausing to take in the sight below you.

His cheeks are flushed, yours no doubt no better, and his hoodie is barely hanging on to the lower half of his torso. Pale, muscled skin peeks out and tenses at your touch sliding up his abdomen. Jeonghan is glowing, and tears prick the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by emotion.

“I want you,” you repeat, lips ghosting his. “But I want you to want me, too. Do you?”

“Dumb question,” he whispers back. “That’s never been something to ask of me. It’s always been pure fact, like the origin of the word bog. Pine has different Latin roots, Orion chases the Pleiades, and I want you.”

A sigh escapes you, and you let yourself press once more to him, answering his confession with a kiss.

I want you. Your body, made by the universe, retells your story over and over as it moves in time with his own. I want you and I want you to want me and I want us.

Jeonghan eagerly kisses you in return as if to say, Go ahead then, take me. Take it all. I want you.

Take everything in me, and leave nothing left but us.

#🎶 ppyopulii’s discography #seventeen #yoon jeonghan #yoon jeonghan x reader #seventeen x reader #jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan fluff #yoon jeonghan imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan imagines

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pukefactory · 7 days ago

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hey.... I would like a Deceit Trio+ Reader who has N(Murder Drones😈) personality. Looks like a cinnamon roll, would kill you. (Gelp)

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽ DECEITFUL DROMEDA ☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

⏾⋆ Summary: A Compilation of Headcannons Featuring The Deceit Trio X Reader Who Looks Like A Sweet Person, But Would Actually Kill Others

⏾⋆ Character(s): Black Sapphire Cookie (Cookie Run), Candy Apple Cookie (Cookie Run), Shadow Milk Cookie (Cookie Run)

⏾⋆ Genre: Headcannons, SFW

⏾⋆ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

✶ Shadow Milk Cookie figured it out almost instantly. Oh, how fun! A darling Cookie with honeyed words and a giggle sweet enough to rot teeth—yet, beneath that, a predator in powdered sugar. “Ahh, you’re just like me,” he croons, eyes glinting like shattered glass. He sees through your deception, but does he mind? Oh, no. If anything, he revels in it. How delightful it is to spin a tale where no one suspects the wolf dressed in frosting!

✶ “You’re dangerous. I like that,” Black Sapphire Cookie hums, voice laced with amusement as he idly spins his microphone between his fingers. He doesn’t care for virtue, honesty, or justice—he only cares about a good show. And you? You’re a walking plot twist, the kind that leaves audiences gasping. He’ll whisper rumors about you just to see how the world reacts. The best part? No one will believe a single one. Who would suspect such a sweetheart?

✶ Candy Apple Cookie adores you. “You’re like a candy apple with a razor blade inside! Hee hee! Just like me!” she sings, clinging to your arm. She drags you into her mischief, delighting in the way you smile so kindly before striking without mercy. “Betcha taste even sweeter with a little bit of deception!” she teases, licking her lips. She’s convinced you’re soulmates—twins in trickery.

✶ Shadow Milk watches you like a cat with a trapped bird. Oh, the duality of your nature intrigues him! A lie within a lie, a darling assassin wrapped in bows and pleasantries. “Tell me, little one,” he muses, leaning in with a lazy smirk, “do you ever tire of pretending?” He already knows the answer, but he loves watching you act. After all, a performer can’t stop the show.

✶ The best rumors are the ones no one believes. And you? You’re the juiciest secret Black Sapphire has ever uncovered. He enjoys dropping hints, little breadcrumbs leading nowhere. “Did you hear? The sweetest Cookie in town is hiding something deliciously wicked…” But of course, who would take Black Sapphire Cookie seriously? Lies are his trade, and the best lies are the ones dressed as jokes.

✶ “You don’t have to pretend around me, you know,” Candy Apple chirps, eyes twinkling with something unreadable. She’s peeled back the sugary layers of your act, and she loves what’s underneath. “It’s sooo fun watching you work! You’re like a surprise inside a candy box—except, oopsie! Someone might lose a finger!” She adores playing your shadow, watching you charm others before turning the tables.

✶ Your deception is artful, elegant, nearly as beautiful as Shadow Milk’s own. He finds himself testing you, toying with you, tempting you. How far will you go? How deep do your secrets run? “Oh, what a wonderful, wicked little thing you are,” he coos, voice dripping with amusement. You’re one of his favorite stories—so, so deliciously twisted.

✶ “You’re unpredictable. That makes you dangerous.” Black Sapphire’s usual script is built on knowing the outcome, but you? You throw his rhythm off just enough to make him interested. Black Sapphire Cookie enjoys control, but he’s willing to let you take the stage. Just once. Just to see how you’ll perform. And if you impress him? Oh, he might just rewrite the whole show for you.

✶ “Let’s do something fun,” Candy Apple whispers, dragging you along with gleeful eyes. “Something really sweet. Really sticky.” She giggles, twirling around you as if she doesn’t notice the way your eyes gleam when you smile. The two of you are chaos incarnate, a pretty little disaster wrapped in ribbons and grins. Oh, the world has no idea what’s coming.

✶ Shadow Milk’s hands rest over yours, leading you in a slow, taunting waltz. “I wonder,” he muses, his tone lilting, “when will the mask slip?” He dips you low, watching the way you refuse to falter. “Or… do you even have a real face beneath it?” His laughter is soft, intoxicating, and yet—he knows. The best performers never reveal the truth.

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neerons · 9 months ago

Text

Some of Ikémen Prince Emma's best quotes + Akatsuki's bonus quotes

"The day's barely started, but I want to go back to bed already." (—Emma's thoughts)

"I'm putting on the best performance of my life here, and you're turning this into the worst melodrama I've ever seen!" (—Emma's thoughts about her made-up romantic relationship with Clavis)

"I don't know what to do. Why can't I be like the heroine in one of my stories, able to outwit everyone no matter how clever they are?" (—Emma's thoughts)

"I didn't, did I? Please tell me I didn't. Oh god, what was I thinking? Why would I throw myself at a sleaze like you?" (—Emma's thoughts about Nokto)

"Ooooh, if I could strangle you right now, I would!" (—Emma's thoughts about Silvio)

"So... we have a prince that likes blowing up the palace and no one cares?!" (—Emma's thoughts about Clavis)

"I could feel Chevalier's cold, silent stare, and that was somehow worse than anything he could have said." (—Emma's thoughts)

"You mean between Sariel's hellish lessons or your adoration? You're right, it's blindingly obvious which is better. Thanks, Sariel, I can hardly wait!" (—Emma's thoughts about Clavis)

"Take this! Bunny... Kick!" (—Emma trying to kick Gilbert, as a bunny)

"Don't tell me one of his business deals failed? Or maybe he stubbed his toe on something? Or hit his fat head on a doorframe?" (—Emma's thoughts about Silvio)

"Honey: 1. Luke's dignity: 0..." (—Emma's thoughts)

"You have no problem invading my privacy and coming in here whenever you please, but you think it's fine to threaten me because I did the same to you?" (—Emma's thoughts about Clavis coming into her bedroom)

"I went on staring at him, trying to decide whether it was worth it to punch him or not." (—Emma's thoughts about Silvio)

"If you let down your guard just because I'm a little rabbit, you might be the one who regrets it in the end." (—Emma to Gilbert)

"Could you get your face out of my face?" (—Emma to Silvio)

"Ahhh, why do you insist on acting the villain when there's not a single thing villainous about you?!" (—Emma's thoughts about Clavis)

"I slowly lowered my head onto his lap as though it might turn into a bed of knives at any second. (...) I realized I was laying on what were possibly the most deadly thighs in the world." (—Emma's thoughts about Gilbert)

"I am SO close to punching this guy." (—Emma's thoughts about Nokto)

"Some people would call that a book..." (—Emma referring to Rio's love letter)

"I know you hate it when I call you adorable, but... you really are adorable right now." (—Emma's thoughts about drunk Licht)

"...Instead of grabbing hold of me, have you considered maybe wearing warmer clothing?" (—Emma to Gilbert)

"Who in their right mind could have imagined that I'd be dragged into his bed and pounced on almost every morning?" (—Emma's thoughts about Chevalier)

"His Highness... stole my first time." (—Emma talking about Silvio to the King of Benitoite)

"Wow. He said something sensible for once." (—Emma's thoughts about Nokto)

"I didn't have his strength, but I had fingernails, and I made sure they dug in deep." (—Emma's thoughts about Silvio)

"I'm not going to let you have your way about anything and everything just because you were born important." (—Emma to Gilbert)

"PLEASE SHUT UP NOW." (—Emma's thoughts about Clavis misleading everyone about their relationship)

"No, it's fine, really, please take your time... Take all the time you need!" (—Emma to Gilbert telling her he won't be able to spend time with her that day)

"I always thought you were pretty overprotective, Rio, but I take it back—you've got nothing on Silvio!" (—Emma's thoughts)

"Would it be strange if I said I was relieved that the man I love is so intimidating to other men?" (—Emma's thoughts about Chevalier)

"He'd leapt so cheerfully into the pit that I was pretty certain I'd be traumatized for the rest of my life by the flamboyant way he'd hit the bottom." (—Emma's thoughts about seeing Gilbert fall into Clavis' trap voluntarily)

"If we ever actually find you, Clavis, I have about a million things I want to say to you, and none of them are polite..." (—Emma's thoughts)

"If you live for me, I'll stay with you, forever. I'll never leave you alone, ever again. Don't you want to find more ways to have fun with me?" (—Emma to Gilbert)

"He's hard enough to approach when he's fully awake, I can't imagine what he's like first thing in the morning!" (—Emma's thoughts about Chevalier)

"You're lucky that I still want you even after you call me soft and silly and say my heartfelt declaration is 'embarrassing crap'. Silvio... take me."

"I couldn't help reaching out and squeezing his upper arm, just to see how it felt." (—Emma's thoughts about Gilbert)

"(...) I know you can be cold and ruthless, but you always make me feel more sure of myself." (—Emma's thoughts about Chevalier)

"This man invented a bizarre device to keep me cool, covered me up to protect my modesty... And now he's drying me off so I don't catch a cold. He's the sweetest person in the whole world, and I—" (—Emma's thoughts about Clavis)

"Gilbert can really make anything he puts his mind to. I mean, how many gunsmiths are also fashion designers?" (—Emma's thoughts)

"Oh, boy. Here comes Drama Queen Gilbert. (...) And here comes Sulky Gilbert." (—Emma's thoughts)

"I hope he comes back soon... ...Or just... never." (—Emma talking about Silvio to Rio)

"You're all good, kind men, and I know you'll never become the sort of corrupt, tyrannical rulers that Gilbert hates so much." (—Emma's thoughts about all the Rhodolitian princes)

"Okay, I admit that writing him letters in a language only the two of us know IS pretty romantic. But to think that people would assume I'm writing dirty things to him because of that..." (—Emma's thoughts about Chevalier)

"'By the time you'll be reading this, I'll be gone'...? Did you... Did you have to write something so cliched?" (—Emma reading Gilbert's letter)

"Nokto? Stop talking. You're only digging yourself into an even deeper hole."

"I can't see much with that hood in the way, but I can still tell you're exasperated. ...You know, I think we're going to become good friends..." (—Emma's thoughts about Roderic)

"He was the perfect prince... so long as he didn't actually talk." (—Emma's thoughts about Silvio)

"So he wants a kiss, huh? I think he's actually looking for more than that, but let's make him work for it." (—Emma's thoughts about Chevalier)

"I guess he means me...? What an ass." (—Emma's thoughts about an auction manager calling her a 'fine article')

"If you're asking stupid questions, expect a stupid answer. That's all I'm saying." (—Emma to Nokto)

"Is it just me, or has his expression softened a tiny, tiny, TINY bit?" (—Emma's thoughts about Chevalier)

"He was like a tyrannical villain from one of my books, flashy and loud and pompous, and a part of me wished he'd go back to whatever book he'd come from." (—Emma's thoughts about Silvio)

"It's like every time I think something positive about you, you find a way to ruin it immediatly." (—Emma's thoughts about Nokto)

Akatsuki's bonus quotes:

"Kill him." (—Akatsuki replying to Rio asking him what he intends to do to Gilbert)

"How dare he do something so shameless to my daughter, in front of a crowd like that..." (—Akatsuki talking about Gilbert)

"(...) when your vacation is over, you will return to your duties. (...) And I know someone as earnest as you would never do anything to breach a contract like that. ...I will come for you. So it's just until then. Got it? (—Akatsuki telling Emma he'll come save her from Obsidian)

"I'm not your father." (—Akatsuki to Emma)

"...I did not tell you stories about Emma so that you could make her your wife." (—Akatsuki to Gilbert)

"...I'll stop by to check on you regularly. If something happens to my daughter, I'll kill you." (—Akatsuki talking about Emma to Gilbert)

"She may not be my real daughter, but I'd never let a man I don't know near my valued worker." (—Akatsuki to Rio)

"They're for Emma. I collected them from all over the world in order to handle any sort of injury or illness." (—Akatsuki talking about his medicinal herbs to Rio)

"If even a single hair on her head is harmed, I'll never let you see my daughter again." (—Akatsuki to Rio)

"Your potential is limitless. It would be a shame for you to be confined here. (—Akatsuki talking about the bookstore to Emma)

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risuola · 9 months ago

Text

ENTRY #15 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU // I love the way you kiss me.

contents: arranged marriage!au, tooth-rotting fluff, kisses (duh) — wc. 994

a/n: i just can't help myself, i love fluff with this man

series masterlist

Satoru loves morning kisses.

Your lips like a warm ray of sun graze the skin of his cheek, a feather-like brush that makes his heart do backflips in his chest. You’re a bliss that coats his years-troubled soul in honey, you’re sweet on his tongue. You’re his favorite taste, his most beloved candy, you’re all he’s ever wanted and had no idea he needed. Your kisses are soothing, they are a melody he wants on repeat, they are the kick of power that gets him going every day.

He’s convinced you do magic — he feels the sparkles bubbling in his skin whenever your lips press to his cheek or forehead. Shivers run down his spine when he feels your nose against the side of his neck. And it’s so innocent. You’re like an angel that’s taken him under your wing, you gave him hope and he wants to worship you. He wants to thank you for changing the life he’s deemed meaningless years and years ago. You brought light into his darkness and showed him the way when he was lost.

You kiss him quickly and he thinks that you can’t tell how much it means to him. You kiss him so naturally, as if you truly love him and sometimes he wonders if he’ll ever be able to earn all the feeling you offered him. It’s a peck, nothing more, but it’s enough for his heart to swell in his chest, bloom like a flower that he wishes to give you. And then, you’re going about your day, making breakfast or coffee, brewing tea and pouring honey and he tries to help you, show you how much he cares, how much he loves you. He’s stealing touches — soft brushes of your arms, little bumps of your hips against his, the gentle nudges and swipes whenever you reach for the same thing or pass next to each other. Yeah, he cherishes all of those and sometimes he earns himself another kiss from you. Sometimes you press your lips against him again and if he’s really lucky, you’d kiss his lips. Then you’re chuckling, patting his chest and swatting him away because once he gets you in his arms, he’s not willing to let go.

The way your body melts in his arms is enough of a reason to kiss you more. He likes to trap you against the kitchen counter, to sit you up on the table or pull you onto his lap. His long arms wrap around you, he wants to feel your heartbeat, he wants to feel you squirm in his grasp and vibrate when you purr or giggle. When he’s feeling particularly needy (everyday), he’s having you wrapped around his waist, your delicious thighs hooked onto his hips and his hands comfortable on your butt as he gets lost in the sensation of your tongue. And then you’re tugging his hair and biting his lip, telling him that the tea is getting cold and the food is drying out and he couldn’t care less when he lounges forward once more, capturing you in another searing kiss.

Then, Satoru is late for work and you barely make it on time. You apologize and he’s sheepish about it. Satoru loves his morning kisses.

And he loves the late-night ones too.

The ones when both of you are after work, not caring about the world anymore and focusing on the warmth. He’d have you close to his chest, on the couch. His mouth works lazily against yours, slow and sensual as the tv hums in the background — yet another episode of the series that none of you follow enough to know what’s going on in the plot. It’s dark outside and in the room, the screen casts an eerie glow on you and him as he keeps you in his arms and he doesn’t rush it.

You’d have your forehead against his, your noses brushing back and forth and he loves the subtle intimacy it brings. Your dainty fingers dance along his nape, nails brush through his undercut teasing his sensitive skin. You talk quietly, murmuring little stories about how the day went — all between the soft pecks and passionate kisses. And he’d tell you he loves you; his mouth moves on his own as his breath carries the words, delivering them straight from his heart and into your skin — he wants to engrave them onto you, he wants you to know that he cherishes you more than he’s capable of showing. That he loves you more than he’d ever be able to put in words and then, he’d thank you for saying it back because he thinks he doesn’t deserve it. You think he’s cute and assure him that he is more than enough, kissing him to prove your point.

He loves the late-night kisses. The ones when you’re in bed with him, your faces millimeters away as he admires your beauty in silence. You’re sleepy and don’t talk much anymore but he devotes his last moments of consciousness to take you in. His palm cradles your cheek and his thumb runs over your lid and down the bridge of your nose until it reaches the ups of your lips and he stops there. He feels the softness of your lower lip underneath the pad of his finger, he makes your mouth part slightly and feels the warm breath escaping them.

He brings his lips towards yours and a soft purr rumble in your chest — the kiss is gentle, just barely a touch but he’s content with it. It’s warm and plush, lips brushing against each other in the feather-like dance. There’s no tongue or teeth, there’s no rush or urgency. It’s a silent goodnight and he feels the sleep slowly taking him away. Satoru moves higher, kissing the tip of your nose and your forehead and you use your last movements to nuzzle into his neck as he nuzzles into your hair.

taglist: @kinny-away @anan-baban @lotomber @netflix-imagines @kawliflo @nishloves @ghostfacefricker6969 @thejujvtsupost @yozora7154 @cherrycolabarbedwirebedpost @stuckinmoilalaland @ae-mius @ropickle @chokesonspit @lansy-4 @mo0sin @just-pure-trash @foliea @bakarinnie @big-booty-joe @fortunatelyfurrygiver @lolita-h @sweetpo1son @myahfig4 @zurakoofgintama

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melanchoire · 29 days ago

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G!p Pham hanni red flag and ex girlfriend

cw: dubcon, deepthroat, throat–fucking.

i know hanni is seen as a sweet girl but the image of a charming and sweet girl gives me vibes of a mega possessive and toxic girlfriend who has an eye on you at all times but only to make sure she takes care of you, even from the shadows ❤️

when you were dating, she was more than a sweetheart! calling you “darling” or “honey”, composing songs for you and singing while playing her guitar, cooking delicious meals for you and even baking desserts, making you fall asleep by hugging you against her chest and massaging your back while humming a song, and waking up with soft kisses on your face and a mega loving one on your forehead

it was unusual for you that even after you two broke up, she was still just as sweet… she even dared to tell you that you two were on good terms and she would love to be able to keep in touch with you and be friends, and you agreed because you thought she was just being the sweet hanni you fell in love with, idiot!!

it seems like a coincidence that wherever you go she is there too. that she is in the same university classes as you is understandable, but when you go to the library she’s there, when you go to the park she’s there, when you go to the store she’s there, she’s everywhere you go! and she is always all correct and well mannered, surprised to see you and greeting you happily, managing to start a conversation with you where she ends up asking you several personal things, like what you are doing and managing to get information from throughout the course of your week

and her friends try to warn you. you think that you are in the situation where your ex–partner’s friends hate you and do not tolerate you, so they treat you in the worst way or try to make you fall into the trap, but you always had a good friendship with minji during your relationship with hanni

“i’m not joking. stay away from hanni.” minji would tell you. she wouldn’t answer when you asked her why she wants you to stop associating with hanni. actually, you couldn’t even call what you two have a bond, just the girl who used to be your girlfriend and now becomes your ex is like a close acquaintance. minji would just make sure you do what she asks, and you get upset by her attitude! she wasn’t giving you any context, so why listen to her when she was being like that with you? you were foolish when you thought that she was just trying to get you away from hanni because maybe she had a crush on her

but you don’t know that hanni is the ex that can’t get over and becomes an obsessive stalker with you. checking your Instagram profile every night and writing down in a notebook each of the usernames of your followers or followed, only to go back in the next day to check your profile with her notebook in hand and checking if you have a new follower or if you dared to follow someone else 💀 also the type that has fake accounts that pretend to be real because their profile looked pretty credible!! she would respond to your stories with compliments, almost smashing her phone against the wall when you respond in the sweetest way to a girl or boy you don’t know, not knowing that she is behind the screen

one day she invites you to a study date at a coffee shop since you had an exam around the corner and she suggested that it would be a better idea to study as a team. of course, hanni was the one who invited you, she was the one who paid for absolutely everything and she didn’t even let you put in a small part of the money, just saying that you order whatever you want from the menu and don’t worry about the price

maybe the waitress was a whote who was always flirting with the customers or maybe hanni was seeing things that weren’t happening, but she was more than sure that the waitress was flirting with you while she left the order on the table!! she was so angry because this woman was blatantly trying to touch something that was hers

throwing an arm across the table, hanni throws everything that was on the table onto the floor, one of the coffee cups splashing the waitress and dirtying her apron, the rest of the plates and trays falling to the floor and breaking into pieces, along with the baked desserts scattered across the tiles

she doesn’t even let you process what happened because she grabs your wrist and drags you into the bathroom of the place

mean dom hanni forcing you to get on your knees, making your back against the wall so you have no escape from her. she would pull down her pants, removing her cock from her boxers and looking down at you with an mad expression and fire in her eyes

omg she would slap you with her dick too 😳 getting annoyed as you try to stand up, having to roughly grab a handful of your hair with one of her hands and using the other to hold her cock, smackig the head against your cheek and grinning as she watches the pre–cum stain your skin

she fucks your mouth and doesn’t care if you’re choking or having trouble breathing, she just focuses on holding your head with both hands with a painful grip on your hair while forcing her cock into your mouth

and has the audacity to degrade you as if you were the one who wanted this, saying “you missed being on your knees, didn’t you? i knew you were a whore. i always knew that.” “always coming back to my cock, don’t you darling? you’re pathetic, (y/n).”

and enjoy when after cumming and staying inside your mouth to make sure you swallowed every last drop of her seed, and as she pulls away from your mouth a thick thread of the combined saliva and cum connects from the head of hee cock to your swollen lips, using two fingers to scoop up the mixture and forcing her digits to make you swallow it because she doesn’t want you to waste anything

and it would be a surprise to everyone when a few weeks later you get back with your ex girlfriend as if nothing happened

#hanni #hanni x fem reader #hanni x reader #hanni smut #hanni pham #hanni pham x fem reader #pham hanni x reader #pham hanni #pham hanni x fem reader #hanni pham x reader #pham hanni smut #newjeans #newjeans x fem reader #newjeans x reader #newjeans smut #new jeans #new jeans x fem reader #new jeans x reader #new jeans smut

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