#though I think she knows she's flawless | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

clare-875 · 2 months ago

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Hi, I was wondering if you could do this cute idea, where The One Piece boys (Sanji, Zoro, Luffy, Ace, Sabo, Law, and Kid) x female reader, but the reader is a short queen (shoutout to the short queens out there), like she has a petite and slender figure, a small chest size, and is 5'4 or below? How would the boys react? (It can either be them comforting her being self-conscious about her size or maybe some fluffy or comedic shenanigans, cutesy stuff, etc.)

Short & Sweet (Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, Ace, Law, Kid, Sabo)

_____ Pairings: Luffy x Reader; Sanji x Reader; Zoro x Reader; Ace x Reader; Law x Reader; Kid x Reader; Sabo x Reader Summary: Their reaction to having a small girlfriend Warnings: Fluff, some angst & comfort, Female Reader A/N: This was such a cute idea, I hope you like the fic! 🥰 [One Piece Masterlist] [Part 2: Shanks, Crocodile, Mihawk, Katakuri, Smoker, Killer] _____

- Luffy -

Luffy pays little mind to your shorter stature or petite figure, in fact, if you bring up to him that at times you felt insecure, he would be utterly confused. At the end of the day, to him, you were the woman he wanted by his side when he became the King of the Pirates; his Queen if you will. So it didn't matter your looks as much your devotion and compassion and love mattered to him. In fact, if you ask him specifically, he would realise how much he adores your smaller form.

You were so easy to cling to as he flung around islands for adventure, and the way you looked up to him every day brought forth a warm feeling inside of him. He always had the natural instinct to protect the crew and that extended especially to you, but he would never cease to be in utter awe at the sight of your strength in battle, deceiving your opponent with your image. He would almost look at you with pride and not waste a second to compliment you.

"Shi shi shi. [y/n], you're so cool!"

- Sanji -

Sanji thinks that you are just perfect. The way your smaller form clings to him when he embraces you, the way you look up to him with utter love in your eyes, the way you meld into him just right. In the kitchen, he may even purposefully put things on higher shelves just so he had the luxury of being chivalrous towards you. Although this got annoying at times and you had to tell him off, it was all good intentions. He wanted to dote on you and spoil you and adore you.

If you were ever insecure about your height or figure, he was quickly there to reassure you. It is almost to the point where you don't even have the time to be insecure because Sanji is screaming compliments to you every other moment of the day. His favourite moments would be spent in the kitchen with you sitting on the counter as he cooks. He would pass you different foods to try and you would never cease to stop his heart from pounding just at the sight of you.

"My love, you are too beautiful for my heart to bear!"

- Zoro -

Zoro again is someone who pays little mind to the stature of his partner. However, he couldn't deny that he simply adores the way you look up to him with your glistening eyes or the way your smaller form clings to him in the depths of the night. It is all he needs to breathe. You are so dependable and courageous even with your smaller stature that he is always proud to call you his partner. Zoro will never say it, but the first time he saw you in battle, your smaller form deadly as opponents fell like flies to your feet, he was in utter shock. He doesn't think he had loved someone more.

If you ever bring up your insecurities with him, he will look to you like you have lost your mind but in secret, he just doesn't know how you could ever feel that way, you were so perfect. Though he does not know comfort, he would surprise you with murmurs under his breath about how you are beautiful and flawless. In saying this, if Zoro knows that you do not mind, he is not above teasing you. He secretly adored the way you pout and cross your arms when you face away in mock annoyance at him, but it does nothing but reaffirm the fact that you were too pretty, even if your anger was pointed at him.

"You're fucking cute when you're mad babe."

- Ace -

Ace adores your smaller figure and he finds you the most adorable thing he has laid eyes on. At times you have to pry his warm hands away from you because he just adores the feeling of having you in his hold every moment of the day. The way he has to lean down to capture your lips. The way he holds your smaller hand within his in the dark night, tracing patterns on your soft skin. You were just perfect to the man, and he never ceased to tell you and show you just that.

If you bring up your insecurities, Ace will be shocked, and quite frankly disappointed in himself for not having noticed or reassured you earlier. He is quick to utter comforts and envelop you in the depths of his warm arms. His heat almost engulfs you because of your smaller form, but you secretly adore the sensation of just feeling him in times when your mind is not kind to you. He would caress your hair and litter kisses from your forehead to your lips.

"You're perfect love, just the way you are."

- Law -

When you first asked to join Law's crew, he couldn't lie, he was sceptical at first due to your smaller stature. Maybe concerned was a better word as he knew the toils that came with being a pirate at sea. However, when you had surprised him with your valour and strength, there was no question that you just had to join his adventure upon the sea. Now, he could not imagine being on his adventure without you. Your smaller hands that carve through his hair, the way you hold him before you sleep, the way you blush as you look up to him after he kisses you.

If you ever bring up insecurities about yourself and your image he will be quick to reassure you of how perfect you are to him. "But did you see Robin and Nami, they looked so-" He would interrupt before your pretty mind worries too much. "They're not you love." And he means his words. How could you ever doubt yourself when your figure is what fits just right to him as he embraces you. Your smaller hands caress his face so gently, he felt as though he did not deserve it. You never failed to get his heart rate to pick up. Even the crew looked in wonderment at how you could melt Law's walls so easily.

"You're too good to me love."

- Kid -

Kid would never be the type to admit it but he secretly adores you and your smaller form. It gives him such a strong feeling of wanting to protect you and wanting to dote on you that he struggles to maintain his stoic composure around you. When he first met you, you were confused as to why he seemed so angry to you - angrier than usual compared to how he treated other crewmembers. However, it is only later that you learn from Killer it is because Kid was so enamoured by you that he didn't know how to control that feeling.

Kid will always deny, but he adores the way you would cling to him in the depths of the night, or how you would hold your smaller hand in his. He adores your figure even more, so perfect to hold and to touch. If you bring up your concerns about your figure or stature to him, he will seethe and growl in complete denial. "What the fuck are you talking about?" But his strong facade will crumble if he sees you are actually insecure about your slim figure and your height. If the two of you are in a quiet space he will be quick to place you in his arms as though to hide you from the thoughts plaguing your mind.

"You're perfect, I'll fucking kill anyone who says otherwise."

- Sabo -

Sabo is also one to not mind the height or figure of a partner so much, but he adores your smaller form more than you could know. He is good at hiding the way his heart rate picks up like nothing else when you look up at him with your beautiful eyes. He has to stop himself from leaning down and pecking your lips right then and there. You were beautiful, strong, perfect, and his. What else could he ask for in his partner?

He adores comparing your hands to his and holding you to him, your head resting perfectly on his thrumming heart. His want to protect you in battle is strong, but his want to see you fight in battles brings forth an awe that is stronger. Sabo could never let you compare your figure to others or let your insecurities become too much to bear. To him, you were just perfect and he would always make sure to reassure you whenever you confided in him. He would caress you gently, murmuring comforts into the depths of your hair.

"You, my love, are beautiful. No one can compare to you"

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void-my-warranty · 1 year ago

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Ghost Gets You Ready to F**k Johnny (18+)

Service Dog Johnny Part 3 (full part list here)

Pairing: Simon Riley/Fem Reader/Johnny MacTavish Content Warnings: Nudity, light foreplay, she/her reader Word Count: 2.6k

“She’s just tired.”

Simon’s words vibrate against your ear, drawing you out of the half-doze you were floating towards.

You crack your eyes open a little, convinced that you haven’t missed anything since cuddling into your boyfriend’s arms, but unable to remember what Johnny said last. It’s hard to see much of anything, now that it’s fully nighttime and the flames of the fire have died to mostly coals.

“Thinkin’ I scared her off?” Johnny quietly asks from his patio chair nearby. In your peripheral vision you can see the toe of his boot bounce atop his knee.

They must think you’re asleep.

You really should make some indication that you’re awake, but being the incurable snoop that you are, you quickly shut your eyes again and make sure your breathing is steady.

“Hardly,” your boyfriend says with a definite note of amusement. “She’s been shaving every fucking day since. Haven’t you, love?”

“Shut up,” you grumble, half heartedly smacking his squishy, relaxed pec. You have been shaving. Everything.

“They run her ragged at work,” Simon explains. “Poor thing’s too knackered to get it up.”

“I’m going to stab you in the neck,” you promise, peeling your face off his chest to glare at the faint smudge of his features in the darkness.

Simon just flicks your nose, and you know he’s got that lazy smirk on his face. You figured out early on in the relationship that he loves affectionate threats of violence.

The thing is, you’re not too tired to get it up. You’ve been slightly wet ever since you found out Johnny was coming over for dinner, and you’re pretty sure if you went to bed with him right now, you’d be quite taken care of without having to lift a finger. But when you finally fuck him, you want it to be actually good for him. Especially after his generosity last time.

“I’m not too tired to do it,” you finally tell Johnny, thankful he can’t see your face in the darkness. “I’m just too… relaxed.”

God, that came out wrong. The truth is that at the moment you’re feeling too happy and peaceful to be hyper vigilant about everything that could go wrong, all the ways you could mess it up. You know, the way you need to be, the first time you fuck Johnny.

“Too relaxed? What sort of ideas has LT been feeding ya, lass?”

“That’s all this one,” Simon gruffs. “Thinks everything’s meant to be stressful.”

“I do not!” You protest, then address Johnny with a quieter tone. “You just didn’t get anything for yourself the last time, and I want to make sure it’s good for you.”

“A nice, lazy pump is some of the best shit there is,” Johnny counters.

“You’d get a fuckin prize to get this one’s knickers untwisted,” Simon teases. “First time she ever showed me—“

You cut him off before he can ruin your image any more than it already is. “I’ve had boyfriends before, you know. I’m not new to this.”

“Knobs, the lot of them,” Simon supplies unhelpfully.

“They were… perfectly normal guys.”

Both men make noises of disgust.

“You know what?” you announce, clambering off your boyfriend’s lap and pointing right at Johnny. “I’m awake now, and I will fuck you.”

You don’t stop to reconsider, you just storm back through the sliding glass door into the house. They aren’t laughing, at least. There are no voices behind your back as you close the door - humiliatingly gentle, unfortunately, as you have to be with those doors - and go shut yourself in the bedroom.

The bed you share with Simon looms in front of you, with just the one lamp casting a warm glow over the corner. You might even flop yourself down on the mattress for a minute to pull yourself together, except the blanket is so flawless and smooth, it feels like vandalism.

It’ll get roughed up when you get fucked, though. Those perfectly straight pillows might as well be Simon’s fingerprint, and you’re about to mess them up with your inability to be content with the best relationship you could ask for.

You caused this. If you had just hidden away your unsatisfied body, maybe even faked some orgasms or something, none of this would have happened. You wouldn’t be fucking leaking into your underwear at the idea of someone else fucking you, and you definitely wouldn’t have two men sitting in the backyard right now, laughing about it.

The most torturous mix of arousal and guilt whirls through your gut, so you cross over to the bathroom and shut yourself in there, too. You flip the light on and your own stricken face stares back in the mirror, hair mussed and eyes wide. Dammit. You’re spiraling.

Simon forgets sometimes that you’re not one of the guys. You can’t take his little roasts like they can, especially in front of other people. It’s just because Johnny’s here, has to be. He’s used to joking around with his friends all day, and you’re being stupid for letting it affect you.

Thoughtlessly you slump onto the sink counter, laying your forearms down on that cool surface and resting your face in the dark cradle of your arms. It’s nice here. Quiet. You can feel your pounding heart start to slow, can take in a deeper, steadying brea—

The distant sound of the bedroom door opening has your muscles immediately locking into place. You strain your ears for male voices, but hear nothing. No footsteps, either, though the carpet doesn’t allow much noise.

The bathroom door opens behind you. You stay there listening for the reprimand, but Simon doesn’t say anything. It’s definitely him standing in the doorway, watching your back rise and fall with the artificial cadence of your forced breathing.

“I’m so embarrassed,” you finally confess into the dark void of your arms, “and so horny.”

There are a few seconds of silence where you desperately hope he’s not rolling his eyes at your dramatics. But Simon only mumbles, “I’m sorry, love. Force of habit, I shouldn’t have—”

His words cut off when you fling yourself around and bury your face in his chest, squeezing him around the middle like you can erase everything if you just lock your arms hard enough. He wraps you up just as tight, resting his chin on your head the way he likes to do.

“Is Johnny still here?” you ask, all muffled in your boyfriend’s chest.

“He was just offered a shag, of course he is.”

Relaxing your hold, you peek your head under Simon’s arm, just to glimpse Johnny sitting right there on the edge of the bed a few feet away. As soon as he notices you, his eyes shoot to the ceiling, expression innocent as if he’s just here to study the drywall.

You make a nervous noise in your throat and shift back into Simon’s chest, only to feel something completely unexpected pressing into your belly.

Stiffening in surprise, you jerk your chin up to get a look at your boyfriend’s— sheepish— face.

“Ahh, yeah,” he sighs. “Sorry.”

Wait.

It’s not just you?

A wild surge of relief expands in your chest. You can feel it break out across your face in a slow, impish smile that you do nothing to hide.

Simon’s lips twitch at the corners, eyes going lazy and lidded as they trace over your face. He’s going to enjoy this. It’s not just about you, because he’s actually going to get off on watching you getting fucked. This isn’t like a chore for him, this is where he actually wants to be.

“I don’t want to kiss,” you impulsively tell Johnny, craning your neck to look at him past Simon’s bicep.

His beautiful, clear eyes abandon their study of his boots to meet your gaze. “Alright.”

“Pretty much anything else is fine. You can trust me to tell you no.”

Hesitantly he reaches down to his shoelace, beginning to untie it. “Alright.”

You blink, flashing through the sequence of events in your head and finding a snag. “Do you have a condom?” you ask uncertainly.

“Aye.”

“Okay.” Shit. What now? How do you elegantly go from moping in the bathroom to riding Johnny?

“One moment,” Simon interjects, nudging the bathroom door shut with his foot.

You take a nervous step away from him, bumping into the sink thanks to the tiny bathroom. “What?”

Simon tilts his head, narrowing his eyes at you in that way that means he’s about to be right about something.

“What?” you whisper again.

“You’re good. You know that, yeah? You’re a good person.”

“I know,” you lie, swallowing. Where is this coming from?

“You’re not listening.” He hooks his fingers into the belt loops of your jeans, tugging you a half-step closer. “You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I know.” You try to hold his eyes, but it’s difficult because you do have buckets and buckets of shame weighing you down.

“I know you, darling.” His fingers give your jeans little tugs while he methodically works the button free, then unzips them. The tone of his voice is slow and warm now. Patient, like you don’t deserve him to be. “You’re good, and you’re considerate, and there’s no one’s word I would trust above yours.”

You can feel the pressure of his knuckle against your pubic bone, unnecessarily repeating the slide down it that he did with the zipper. It feels good.

“Thanks,” you mutter, because really, what do you say to that?

That gentle touch happens again, this time sending a wash of awareness though you, forcing you to look away from his eyes. You’re not allowed to feel like this when he’s touching you. This is forever off limits, that interested tingle between your legs.

Stop it, he’s just being sweet.

Simon bends to pull your jeans down your thighs, and you try to block out the mental images which are suddenly assaulting you. Simon, getting on his knees and doing that thing again to the front of your underwear. Kissing that spot. Running a thick finger across the fabric, back and forth over your clit.

Stop it, stop it, stop it.

Your boyfriend straightens up, only to wrap his hands around your waist and effortlessly deposit your ass onto the cold bathroom counter.

“Simon,” you warn, breathless, but he’s already releasing you.

His warm, brown eyes flick up to your face. Cradling your foot in one hand, he slips your shoe off and says your name right back to you, so soft and deep that the texture of his voice sends a flood of goosebumps across your nape.

“You’re turning me on,” you whisper. It’s what you’ve always done, any time he’s inadvertently touched you in a way that your body perceived as sexual. You always let him know, let him cut it out before it makes him feel a certain type of way. The last thing you want to do is find secret, perverted enjoyment in moments that would trigger him if he knew.

This is when he retreats. Every time you’ve ever told him that you’re getting worked up, he’s always taken a step back and let you get a grip on yourself. You don’t resent it, you never have.

“A stiff breeze would get you going right now, love.”

He merely removes your other shoe and drags your jeans the rest of the way off your legs. Smooth, moisturized legs, which you’ve prepped for consumption all the way to your pussy. You move to close your knees, but Simon steps in between them before you can.

“Baby,” you plead, your pulse thrumming in your ears.

“Do me a favor, just stay still.” He grabs the hem of your shirt and drags it up over your head. “It’s easier if I— if you don’t talk for a moment.”

This has never happened before. He’s never pushed himself this far, standing between your legs like this when you’re in your underwear. Why he’s doing it now, you can’t fathom, but this is his struggle. You have to trust that he won’t hold it against you if he gets too far past his limits.

Those hands which have held steady on countless missions shake as he works to unhook your bra. You obediently keep your mouth shut, resting your forehead on the crook of his neck while he reaches around you. He’s not great at maneuvering the clasps and it takes a few seconds to get it right.

Finally the straps slide down your shoulders and Simon takes a stuttered step back, like he wanted to retreat farther but stopped himself. Chewing nervously on your mouth, you lean back on your hands and watch his face, watch his eyes as they track over your bare breasts, your thighs.

“Can you take your those off?”

He says it so quietly that you almost wonder if he didn’t want you to hear it, if he was hoping you wouldn’t.

Carefully you lean forward and drag your underwear down your ass, wiggling your weight back and forth to remove them without falling off the counter. Simon doesn’t help this time, just watches with his hands tucked behind his back while you use your foot to flick the panties onto the floor.

He’s got that desperate look on his face that you recognize as him slipping out of control. He’ll occasionally come home from a mission looking like this, needing to exhaust himself for a few hours in the garage with the human-shaped punching bag.

“Can I see?” he asks in a hoarse whisper.

Fully naked, you let your back hit the mirror and silently open your knees, showing him the damp, soft little area that he’s too wounded to touch. Suddenly the little bathroom feels minuscule with your giant in it, with all of his heavy air between you. You’re trying not to cry, you really are, but emotion is clawing at the back of your throat.

Your man leans forward, and his giant hands grab onto the lip of the counter, right outside each of your legs. The space is cramped enough that one of your knees rests against the scarred knuckle of his thumb. He reaches for you with his lips, softly kissing your cheek, and says, “You look like heaven.”

Your stomach dips so hard that you make a quiet, pained noise. The man you love tilts his head to kiss you, keeping his hands where they are, but reaching that thumb out to run it along the outside of your knee. It’s a movement he’s done a hundred times before, but never with you naked. Never with you so turned on that your clit hurts, and you have to force yourself not to squeeze your thighs together for relief.

All he manages are a handful of slow, delicate kisses, but it’s enough. It pumps dopamine through you, curling fingers of desire in your belly and turning you into some submissive, soft thing. You'll stay here and let him kiss you as long as he wants, keep your pussy on display because he said so. The need to please this man is so deeply ingrained, it seems like the cruelest thing in the world that you're not allowed to help him cum. He's earned that pleasure, through months of care and tenderness. If only it was possible.

When Simon pulls away, your heart feels broken and your head feels light.

“I love you,” you mumble, not daring to chase his mouth the way you want to.

“I love you, my good, good girl. You’re a keeper, aren’t you?”

You make a happy little noise and shiver in place, willing to sacrifice your ass to the cold counter if it means he continues looking at you like this.

“Gonna let me keep you?” he asks, stroking your knee again.

“Yes.”

“Gonna let Johnny help you feel good?”

“Mhmm.” He’s been waiting out there a while now, poor guy.

“Go show him how pretty you are.”

Next Part

Dividers by @the-aesthetics-shop

Chronological Read-Through Path

#simon ghost riley #service dog johnny #johnny soap mactavish #poly!ghoap #ghoap x reader #x reader #call of duty #cod #ghost x reader #dinnertime

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d-z20 · 2 months ago

Text

Her Game, Your Rules (NSFW)

Pairing: Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: To stop your family's reputation burning to the ground you are forced to marry Rio Vidal, an old money type of rich CEO who seems to be on a mission to make your life hell

-OR-

You end up snapping and fuck Rio to get your frustrations out.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, Top Reader, Bratty Rio, biting, marking, fingering (Rio recv), fisting, dom brat-tamer reader, seriously it's just rough smut, maybe some plot if you squint

Words: 3.6k

A/N: At the time of writing this, I am under the influence of christmas spirits (read vodka and mulled wine) and so this is a little self induldgent and I apologise for any typos oops

AO3 | Masterlist

Your family’s fall from grace is like a slow-motion train wreck—every headline, every whispered scandal, is another crack in your once-unshakeable reputation. The solution comes as a cruel irony: an arranged marriage. Not to just anyone, but to Rio Vidal.

She’s untouchable, the CEO of a sprawling conglomerate with roots so deep in old money they’re practically fossilised. Her power is absolute, her public image flawless, and her demeanor? Smug. To her, this marriage is nothing but a game, another business deal where she holds all the cards.

The first time she calls you pet, it’s during the engagement photoshoot. The photographer adjusts your pose—her arm around your waist, her hand resting at the curve of your hip—and she leans in, her voice low and taunting. “Smile, pet. You wouldn’t want them to think you’re unhappy with me, would you?”

Her hand squeezes the flesh of your hip and you almost snap.

It only gets worse after the wedding. Rio is everywhere—her presence suffocating yet calculated, as though she knows exactly how to push your buttons without ever truly crossing a line. At home, in the shared penthouse you can’t even call yours, she lounges with infuriating ease. She’s always perfectly put-together: designer suits, expensive perfumes, and that perpetual smirk.

“You’re tense again,” she says one evening from the couch, sipping her wine like a queen on her throne. “Is it me, or are you trying not to stare?”

You grit your teeth. If she notices how often your fists clench, she doesn’t let it show.

Tonight is no different. A high-profile business dinner sees you both playing the part of the perfect power couple. Rio dazzles the room effortlessly, sliding her hand into yours with calculated affection as though it’s second nature. Her teasing words are quiet, meant only for you.

“Careful with that scowl, pet,” she murmurs while brushing non-existent lint from your jacket. “You’ll ruin the illusion.”

By the time you return to the penthouse, you’re simmering. The space feels colder than usual, and Rio only adds to it as she strides inside like she owns not just the apartment but the entire city. She shrugs off her coat and tosses it onto a chair without looking back at you.

“You were quiet tonight,” she says, her voice laced with that familiar condescension. She turns just enough to meet your gaze, and there it is—that smug little smile. “I’d almost think you were enjoying my company.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you snap, but it’s exactly what she wants.

Rio’s smile widens as she steps closer, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor. She stops right in front of you, impossibly composed as always, and tilts her head like she’s sizing you up. Her eyes glint with something sharp, something knowing.

“Oh? Is that irritation I hear, pet?” She purrs, voice low and teasing. “It’s adorable how hard you try to keep it together. But I see you, you know. You hate how much I get under your skin.”

The change happens like lightning striking—quick, hot, and inevitable. Before you realise it, you’ve grabbed her wrist and spun around, slamming her back against the closed door. The sound echoes through the penthouse, sharp in the silence.

Rio gasps softly, her breath catching as her back hits the door. For the first time, her perfect composure falters. Her wide eyes meet yours, lips parting as though she’s trying to find something to say, but for once, she’s quiet.

“All that teasing, Rio,” you murmur, stepping closer until there’s barely an inch between you. Your voice drops low, deliberate. “Did you think I wouldn’t do something about it?”

Her silence is electric, crackling between you.

You reach out, tilting her chin with two fingers, forcing her to look at you. Her breath hitches, and you catch it—the tiniest flicker of uncertainty in her gaze, a fracture in her armor. But then, like a reflex, her lips curl into a small, bratty pout.

“What’s the matter?” You taunt softly, a smirk tugging at your mouth. “Cat got your tongue?”

Rio’s breath is uneven now, her lashes fluttering as she blinks at you. She tries to mask it with that familiar bite of defiance. “Finally showing some backbone, pet?” she whispers, her voice breathier.

The words make you grin. “You like pushing me,” you say, your hands sliding to her hips, pinning her against the door. She tenses just slightly beneath your grip, her body betraying her cool demeanor. “But you’re not as untouchable as you think you are.”

Rio’s chin lifts defiantly, her sharp gaze meeting yours like a challenge. “And what are you going to do about it?” She breathes, but there’s something crumbling in her voice now—something you can feel.

Your smirk widens as you lean in, your mouth brushing against the shell of her ear. “Exactly what you’ve been asking for, Vidal.”

And then you kiss her.

It’s not gentle. It’s months of frustration, tension, and unspoken words igniting all at once. Rio lets out a small, startled noise against your mouth, one that only fuels you further. Her hands shoot up to grip your shoulders, but whether she’s trying to push you away or pull you closer, you can’t tell, and you don’t care.

You press her harder against the door, tilting her head back as you deepen the kiss. For once, she isn’t teasing. Her breaths are quick, her lips parting under yours with a kind of quiet surrender that makes you feel drunk on power. Her smugness is gone, replaced by something raw, something real.

When you finally pull back, Rio looks at you with half-lidded eyes, her cheeks flushed and her breaths coming fast. Her composure is shattered, her usual teasing grin nowhere to be found.

“Well?” you murmur, brushing a thumb along her jaw as you tilt her face to yours. “Still feeling smug?”

She scowls, breathless, and flustered in a way you’ve never seen before. “Don’t get cocky,” she mutters, her voice soft but bratty, her gaze darting away as if she can’t bear how vulnerable she looks.

You grin, leaning in again until your lips hover over hers. “I’m just getting started, pet.”

Your smirk lingers as you grab Rio’s wrist, guiding her away from the door and deeper into the penthouse. She doesn’t resist—her breathing still unsteady, her steps hurried to keep up with you. The silence stretches, punctuated only by the soft click of your shoes against the hardwood floor and the faint rustle of her movements behind you.

The door to your bedroom swings open, and you tug her inside, not giving her a chance to reclaim even a shred of that smug composure. You push her back against the edge of the bed, and Rio stumbles slightly, catching herself with her palms as she glares up at you. That flash of defiance is still dancing in her eyes, but it’s tempered now—undercut by the pink flush dusting her cheeks, the way her chest rises and falls too quickly.

“You’re awfully quiet,” you taunt, stepping closer, standing over her. “Nothing to say, Vidal?”

Rio swallows, the sharp comeback you know she wants to make catching in her throat as her gaze flicks up to meet yours. Instead, she juts her chin out stubbornly, a spark of her usual bratty fire returning. “What, do you need a gold star for dragging me in here?”

You huff out a low laugh, reaching out to hook a finger into the front of her perfectly tailored blazer and tug her back to her feet. Rio gasps softly at the sudden movement, but you’re already turning her around. She lets out a small, startled noise when her back presses against your chest. You take your time sliding the blazer off her shoulders, letting the fabric pool at her feet, followed by the silky blouse underneath. Every inch of newly exposed skin is a victory, a crack in her armour.

When she tries to turn back around, you stop her, sliding one hand over her hip to hold her in place. “Stay still,” you murmur, your voice low and commanding against her ear. Her body stiffens at your tone, but she doesn’t fight you. Your hand drifts upward, running along her bare arm, then grazing the strap of her bra before letting it fall. Her breath hitches audibly.

You step back just slightly to admire her—the perfect Rio Vidal, now flushed and breathless, standing before you in nothing but her skirt. You don’t bother hiding your smirk as you lean in again, your fingers dragging down the zipper. The skirt slips down her legs, leaving her in only the barest scrap of black lace.

“Look at you,” you whisper, grazing your knuckles over her hip. She shivers under your touch, her sharp facade slipping further. “All that teasing. All that attitude. And yet here you are.”

Rio turns her head just enough to glare at you over her shoulder, but the effect is ruined by the redness in her cheeks and the way her lips part slightly as if she can’t catch her breath. “Don’t let this go to your head,” she mutters, though her voice waves.

You chuckle softly, reaching out to grip her chin and turn her face toward you. “You’re still talking back?” you murmur. You tilt her head, leaning close enough for your lips to brush against hers—but you don’t kiss her. You let her feel the heat of you; let her squirm under your touch.

When she finally lets out a small, frustrated whimper, you know you’ve won.

“Good girl,” you murmur against her mouth before finally capturing it in a kiss—deep, heated, and utterly consuming.

Rio melts against you, her defiance unravelling as your hands trail down her body, leaving no part of her untouched. You don’t bother taking off your own clothes so her nails dig into the fabric of your shirt, gripping it desperately as if she can’t get close enough. Her bratty protests are gone now, replaced by quiet, breathy sounds you’d never thought you’d hear from her. Each one is like fuel to the fire burning between you.

When you finally guide her back onto the bed, pinning her beneath you with her wrists above her head, Rio looks up at you—flushed, vulnerable, and breathless.

“Still feeling smug?” you ask, smirking as you lean over her.

She doesn’t answer this time. She just arches her back, tilts her head slightly, and gives you a look that’s both challenging and pleading all at once.

“Yeah,” you murmur softly, leaning down to nip at her neck. “That’s what I thought.”

As you hover over Rio, the flicker of defiance in her eyes does little to hide the vulnerability beneath. Your lips curl into a satisfied smirk as you trail your fingers lightly along the curve of her hip, the teasing touch making her squirm. Your other hand rests firmly at the base of her neck, your thumb brushing against her pulse—steady but quickened, betraying the control she’s desperately trying to hold onto.

“Look at you,” you say again, your voice dripping with condescension. “Everyone thinks you’re in charge of everything you do, but we both know that’s a lie.”

Rio’s eyes narrow at the jab, her lips parting as though she’s about to retort, but the words catch in her throat when your thumb presses just a little more firmly against her neck. Her body shivering beneath you, her breath hitching as your hand on her hip continues its slow, deliberate strokes—up, down, and back again, each motion calculated to unravel her composure further.

“You can’t fool me, pet. I can feel the way you’re trembling. I can see the way your body reacts. Face it—you love this,” you whisper, delighting in the way the name makes her shiver.

Her cheeks flush deeper, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she tries to keep her resolve. Your hand on her hip shifts slightly, your fingertips brushing lower, closer to the edge of that last scrap of lace. Her breath stutters, and despite her best efforts, a soft whine escapes her lips.

“You talk a big game,” you say, your thumb stroking gently along the side of her neck, holding her in place as your free hand drifts lower. Without ceremony, you hook your fingers into the delicate band of her underwear and slide it down her legs in one smooth motion, letting the damp fabric fall to the floor. “But right now? You’re mine. And the best part?” Your lips curve into a wicked smile. “You don’t even want to fight it.”

Rio lets out a shaky exhale, her bravado crumbling further as your grip tightens ever so slightly, just enough to remind her who’s in charge. When she finally speaks, her voice is a barely whisper, lacking its usual sharpness. “Don’t get used to this,” she mutters, but the effect is ruined by the faint, pleading undertone in her words.

You laugh softly, low and mocking, as you lean down to press a slow, claiming kiss against her throat. “Oh, I’m already used to it, pet,” you whisper against her skin, feeling the way her pulse races beneath your lips. Your hand trails downward, slipping between her thighs as you drag a single finger through her slick folds, teasing and deliberate. The sharp intake of her breath is music to your ears, her body trembling under your touch. “And judging by the way you’re falling apart, I’d say you are too.” As the final words leave your mouth, you roughly shove two fingers inside of her.

Rio’s body arches into yours, her resistance melting away completely as her hands grip at your shoulders, holding onto you like you’re the only solid thing in her world. Whatever composure she had left is gone now, replaced by soft, whiney noises that fuel the fire between you.

You pull back slightly, just enough to look down at her—flushed, vulnerable, and completely at your mercy. “See?” you taunt, brushing your thumb along her jaw. “This is where you belong, Rio. Beneath me.”

You smirk darkly, pulling your fingers out of her with no warning, ignoring the desperate whine that spills from her lips as you do. Her body jerks at the sudden emptiness, and before she can so much as recover, you grab her by the waist and flip her over like she weighs nothing.

Rio lets out a surprised gasp, her cheek pressing against the mattress as you shove her down, one hand fisting into her hair to keep her in place. “Stay,” you growl, your voice rough and commanding, punctuated by the sharp tug of her hair that forces her head to tilt back just enough to expose her neck. “You don’t get to be in control here, pet.”

Your other hand grips her hip, pulling her back so she’s on her knees, her spine arching beautifully under the pressure of your grip. Her face remains pressed against the mattress, muffling all the noises spilling from her lips. You drag your nails along the curve of her back, just hard enough to leave red trails in their wake, marking her as yours.

“If people could see you now,” you sneer, tugging her hair again, eliciting a broken moan from her. “The big, bad CEO, reduced to this—a whimpering little thing begging for my touch. It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic.” The hand on her hip slides upward, fingertips digging into her skin hard enough to leave bruises in their wake, so she won’t forget tonight anytime soon.

Rio tries to lift her head, her defiance flaring for a fraction of a second, but you slam her hips back down in a single, rough motion, pressing her further into the mattress. “Don’t even think about it,” you snap, tightening your grip on her hair. “You don’t move unless I say so.”

Her body trembles under your hands, her breathing ragged and uneven as she struggles to maintain even the smallest semblance of composure. But it’s useless—every rough tug, every sharp dig of your nails into her skin, every mocking word you whisper breaks her down further.

You lean over her, your teeth scraping against the curve of her shoulder before you bite down—enough to leave a mark, a visible reminder of exactly who she belongs to. Rio gasps, her body arching instinctively against you, and you let out a low, satisfied chuckle. “That’s better,” you murmur, your lips brushing against the fresh mark. “Now, be a good girl and take what I give you.”

You don’t give her time to recover as your hand slides back between her thighs, forcing them apart as far as they’ll go. Without hesitation, you thrust two fingers back inside her, rough and unrelenting. The wet, obscene sound of it fills the room, mixing with Rio’s muffled cries against the mattress. She’s already trembling, her walls clenching around you as you add a third finger without pause. Her body shudders violently, her knees wobbling under the sheer intensity of your pace.

You curl your fingers just enough to draw a choked moan from her lips. “Falling apart already? You like being ruined, don’t you, pet?” Your words are cruel and mocking, as you drive her higher, your fingers moving faster and deeper, until the tight heat of her body is nearly overwhelming.

When her breath catches again, when her thighs quiver, you push further, withdrawing your fingers briefly before pressing back in with four, stretching her open. Rio lets out a strangled sound, her head turning just enough for you to catch the tears clinging to her lashes, the way her lips part in breathless surrender. She’s shaking now, reduced to nothing but broken moans and whimpers.

“Not enough?” you rasp, gripping her hip harder with your free hand to hold her steady. “Then take all of it.” Slowly, deliberately, you press your fist inside her, feeling her tense, and then give way around you. Her body arches sharply, a guttural cry escaping her as her head drops forward, her hands clutching desperately at the sheets. The sheer intensity of it has her completely undone, her body jerking with each movement as you start to move, each thrust coaxing more incoherent noises from her lips.

“You’re a mess,” you growl, your tone dripping with smug satisfaction as you watch her fall apart. “The mighty Rio Vidal, completely wrecked and begging for more. Tell me, pet—who do you belong to?”

Rio is a wreck beneath you, her body quivering and her breaths coming in ragged, desperate gasps. Her hands claw at the sheets, her nails curling into the fabric as though it’s the only thing grounding her. “Please,” she finally whimpers, her voice trembling and cracked, a stark contrast to her usual composed arrogance. “Please, I—I’m so close.”

You lean over her, your hand still working relentlessly, your fist driving into her over and over again. The slick heat of her body clenching around you sends a thrill of power coursing through your veins. “What’s that, pet?” you mock, leaning closer to nip at the shell of her ear. “Did I hear you begging? The untouchable Rio Vidal, pleading for permission? Say it again. Say exactly what you want.”

Her response is immediate, raw, and desperate. “Please! Let me—let me cum,” she sobs, her voice muffled against the mattress. “I need it, I can’t—please, just—please!” Every word is laced with want, with a pleading edge that makes your smirk widen.

You slow your movements just enough to make her whine, her body writhing in frustration as you keep her teetering on the edge. “You’re mine,” you growl, your voice low and firm, as your free hand slides up her spine before tangling in her hair again, pulling her head back enough to make her gasp. “Say it, Rio. Tell me who you belong to.”

Her reply takes less than a second, her walls clenching around your hand as the words spill from her lips like a confession. “Yours! I’m yours, please, just let me—”

You cut her off by picking up the pace again, your movements rough and unrelenting. Her body seizes as she tumbles over the edge, her cry muffled by the sheets as her climax tears through her. Her thighs tremble violently, and she’s left gasping, completely undone beneath you. You ride her through every wave of it, drawing out her pleasure until she collapses, spent and shaking, her cheek pressed against the mattress as her breathing slowly steadies.

For a long moment, the room is filled only with the sound of her ragged breathing. Then, a low, dark chuckle escapes her lips, raspy and laced with exhaustion. “Well,” she murmurs, her voice still shaky but dripping with wry amusement. “I guess that counts as finally consummating our marriage.” She tilts her head just enough to glance back at you, her usual smirk making a weak but defiant return, though her flushed cheeks and trembling thighs betray her.

You huff a laugh, leaning down to press a kiss to the curve of her shoulder. “Careful, Vidal,” you say against her skin. “We both know who’s really in charge here.” You trail your fingers down her spine, watching the way she shivers under your touch.

Rio chuckles again, softer this time, as she shifts slightly, her body still too spent to fully move. “To the world, I’m still the untouchable CEO,” she says, her voice quiet but firm, the sharp edge of her confidence returning. “But between us?” She glances at you, her eyes glinting with that familiar mix of defiance and surrender. “We both know where I belong.”

Your smirk widens as you push her hair back, brushing your lips against her temple. “That’s right, pet,” you say softly. “And don’t you forget it.”

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Happy Holidays sluts (complimentary) if you are celebrating anything, if not Happy Dec 24th :D

this was going to be the arranged marriage au for aaa week before my laptop decided to be homophobic and break >:(

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taglist: @danveration (comment to be added to a taglist)

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moonstruckme · 6 months ago

Note

Okay I’ve been thinking of request ideas for Thawing Out all day while I was at work 😂 What about if something happened with her on the way to practice (nothing serious but maybe it shook her up a bit) and she was late and clearly acting off? Obviously her boys are going to notice…

Love you as always, hope you’re doing amazing! 💖💖💖

Thank you Amber my love!!! Hope you like it <3

collab with @ellecdc

cw: modern au, chronic pain, mention of harassment

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.6k words

You come into the rink with quick, determined steps, blitzing past every door in your path until you get to the bleachers. Sirius is already on the ice, Remus leaned against the boards while he watches. Both boys turn when you sit down.

“Hello,” Sirius calls, clearly chuffed to have you here as a buffer between him and your bristly coach. “Where’s my latte?”

“No time today,” you say back. You jam your foot into a skate.

Remus gives you a scrutinous look. “You alright?”

“Fine. Sorry I’m late.”

You get your skates on in record time, laced up tight enough to hurt. Sirius is ready for you in your starting position, his hands firm on your shoulders. He gives a little squeeze, meant to coax a smile out of you, but you’re in no mood.

“I was just fucking with you about the latte,” he says lowly. “I don’t need it to get through practice, though he has been especially insufferable this morning.”

You glance at Remus. He looks the same as always, half relaxed and half watchful. He and Sirius have fallen into a routine of petty spats that you suspect don’t exactly make him look forward to practice every morning, and yet he seems to be getting used to the both of you. He’s less curt than he had been during your first few days together.

“You only say that because you were here alone with him,” you say.

“It didn’t help. Without you here he’s in his most unfiltered, fogey form.”

Your skating is as near to flawless as it’s been in weeks. You throw yourself into each jump with everything you have, using the hot emotions simmering beneath your skin to your advantage. And it works. Remus looks caught offguard but directs several nods of approval your way, whereas Sirius is all untempered joy. His grin widens with each flawless landing, and when you finish your most difficult move in the routine he actually whoops. You think you see Remus’ lips twitch at that.

“There she is!” Sirius grips your hand, squeezing tight as you go into a synchronized arabesque. His hair is pulled back into a bun, but a couple of loose pieces flutter around his face as he skates backwards. He looks so happy for you, and some of that tight feeling you’ve been carrying around all morning dissipates. You smile back at him.

You both go into a lutz. It’s a jump you’ve done half a million times. It should be a given, perfect every time. And yet you catch your mistake in midair.

You land on your hands and knees.

You pant a couple of times, and your next breath scrapes on the way in. Tears press at your eyes horrifyingly fast, like they’ve only been waiting for their chance. You press your nose to the ice.

Skates hiss until they’re next to you, Sirius’ hand on your back.

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

You shake your head, humiliated by your fall and even more so by this fracturing, how easily it came on. You feel pathetic.

“Where is it?” Sirius’ voice climbs, growing shrill with panic. “Let me see. How bad is it?”

He’s trying to sit you up, hands cold and gentle and frantic, but his touch stills when a warmer one meets your shoulder.

“Are you hurt?” Remus asks.

“No.” You finally find your voice, but it’s pitchy and awful. “I’m sorry.”

“Fuck. Fucking hell.” In the next second you’re smushed against Sirius, who hugs you tight as soon as he knows he doesn’t have to be delicate with you. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I’m sorry.” Your face feels hotter than hot in the cold rink. You push into your eyes with your fingertips. “God, what the fuck! I thought I fixed it. I don’t understand why this is still happening.”

You’re sobbing now, tiny explosions that start in your chest and ricochet all the way through you, but fuming all the same.

“You were both right, I’m holding myself back. I thought I could stop, but it just keeps happening, and I can’t do this. I’m so incompetent I can’t even do a fucking lutz. We need to find Sirius a new partner. I can’t hold us back anymore, I—”

“Hey.”

Remus’ voice is harsh, but not as harsh as Sirius’ grip on you turns at the sound of it. Your partner’s face goes sharp and cruel in an instant, an animal bearing its teeth.

Remus pays him no mind. He keeps his eyes on yours, firm and unrelenting. “Don’t speak about yourself that way,” he says.

You feel Sirius’ hold slacken in surprise.

Another tear trudges down your face, and Remus’ expression gentles. “Everyone falls,” he tells you. “You have been improving, faster than I thought was possible, but you can’t expect it to happen all at once. You’re still going to fall sometimes. It’s alright. We’re working on it, yeah?”

You sniff, wiping underneath your eyes. “Yeah,” you squeak out. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. Just give yourself some grace, yeah?” His lips press together in a little grimace that’s likely meant to be a smile. “It’s my job to be hard on you, not yours. You’re allowed to fuck up. It doesn’t make you incompetent, or unworthy of competing with Sirius. You are the best person to be his partner. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be here, understand?”

“Yeah.” You take a deep breath in. “Thank you.” It stutters a bit on the way out, catching on another tiny sob you can’t help. This one comes from a place of relief, but Sirius’ cold fingers dig into your arm anyway and Remus’ brows twitch slightly as though it hurts him, too.

“No problem,” he says softly. “Are you sure you haven’t hurt yourself?”

You nod, closing your eyes to will yourself calmer.

“Good. Do you want to leave off early today?”

You swallow and start to stand. “No. I’m okay.”

“No.” Sirius’ voice is bemused enough to sound like a question. He rises beside you, looking at you like he’s trying to puzzle you out. “No, something’s up with you today. We should stop.”

Remus seems to go along with him, starting back towards the opening in the boards, and you think wryly that if one good thing comes from all this it might be those two finally starting to get along. You also realize for the first time that Remus is out here with you on the ice. It’s the first time you’ve seen him so much as think about coming off of the bleachers, even if he is only in regular shoes and leaning heavily on his good hip as he makes his way back towards them.

“I’m okay,” you repeat to Sirius.

He shakes his head. “You’ve been weird since you got here. What happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

“Something did.”

You push out a frustrated breath. “Nothing relevant.”

“But something did happen.”

He’s steering you towards the exit now. It feels petulant to rip away and stay on the ice even if no one else will, though that’s what you’d really like to do.

“Are you actively trying to piss me off?” you ask him.

Sirius shrugs, stepping onto the floor. “If that’s what’s going to work. I only want to know what got you so upset.”

“Nothing.”

“Here we are again. Back to ‘nothing.’”

Remus is watching you both like you’re a show his TV has randomly flipped to. Tentative of where he stands, but definitely entertained.

You hate that this has become such a big thing. “It’s really nothing,” you say, planting yourself on the bench with a force that perhaps belies your claim. “It was just some git on the way here this morning.”

Sirius’ eyebrows go up while Remus’ come down.

“And what did this git have to say to you?” Sirius asks.

You sigh, starting to unlace your skates since apparently practice is over. “It’s not what he said. He only asked me out, which is fine, but then he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He, like, grabbed onto my arm and wouldn’t let go for a bit.”

Sirius’ expression goes stormy. It’s almost as bad as the look he’d given Remus earlier, only without a target to be directed at. “Are you fucking joking?”

“It was fine,” you say. “I made it here, didn’t I? It just freaked me out a little. And pissed me off.”

“Yeah, you should be pissed!” Sirius starts pacing, mindless of the indents his blades are putting into the rubber flooring. “Who does that? Did he think—what, you were just going to have to go out with him if he took you captive?”

“I don’t know.” You give him a dead-eyed stare. “I didn’t ask him.”

“God, you should be able to walk to fucking practice in the morning without being accosted by—by some—”

“Do you need someone to walk with you in the mornings?” Remus seems uninterested in waiting to hear what creative insult Sirius comes up with for the git. He looks at you steadily, his jaw tight but ready to accept whatever answer you give him.

“No,” you say. “Like I said, it was really nothing.”

“It upset you,” he says matter-of-factly. “That’s not nothing.”

“I can walk you.” Sirius plonks down beside you on the bench, seeming to have come to a decision. “Just wait for me inside tomorrow morning, and I’ll come pick you up.”

You can’t help but smile at that. “If I leave it to you, we’ll never get here. There’ll never be another morning practice again.” Remus’ tongue pokes into his cheek like he’s repressing a grin.

“Wha—so little faith!” Sirius sputters, straightening before he’s so much as touched his laces. “I’ll be there, okay? We will be needing to pick up my coffee on the way here, though.”

You give him a skeptical look. “You realize I wake up a half hour earlier to have time to get those?”

“Fucking hell! Do you really?”

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mrsnishimuraaa · 1 month ago

Text

one door over

PAIRING: jungwon x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: jungwon moves in just one door over from Y/N and lucky for her she can see right into his bedroom window.

GENRE: smut

NOTE: so the poll ended up being a tie between Jungwon and Sunghoon! i released a fic of Sunghoon last night so we are gonna go with Jungwon for this one!! lmk if i should do some more polls in future

m.list

your mom had let you know earlier this week that you guys were going to have new Neighbours soon, but you didn't think it would be THIS soon. though you brush it off because who cares right? its just a new Neighbour who hasn't had plenty of those. you figured you'll meet them eventually knowing your mom she would invite them in for dinner or something heartwarming like that.

making your way downstairs to grab some water your eyes meet your mom making her way to the front door with a box of some random sweet treat and you already know what she's up too. god they haven't even been in their house 5 minutes and she's already off to greet them. you sigh then make your way back up to your room, closing your door behind you and throwing the plastic bottle of water onto your bed as you move to open your curtains and... oh?

thinking your eyes are playing some shit on you , you rub them but its still there. the silhouette of a man with sharp features and shirtless moving things around what you seem to think is his bedroom. quickly closing your curtains to avoid getting caught plain staring.

"Y/N ! " you hear your mothers voice call from downstairs. "yes mom?" voice calling out as you make your way downstairs "oh here you are! help me tidy down here our new Neighbours are coming for dinner" she sounds so happy to be hosting a family for dinner, you push a smile and agree to help her.

LATER

hearing greetings , what feels like thousands of hellos and your name being called, you rush downstairs.

your met by the sight of such a flawless boy and you ponder how anyone could look that good , hm maybe he's a only child just like you, looking around the room and it seems he's the only teenager apart from you. and of course you go up to greet and say hi to him how could you not?

but he bet you too it " hey I'm jungwon how are you?" oh he was so good looking "im good ! my names Y/N" you beam a smile at him , earning a smile back. shit hes so much taller than you.

inviting him to sit down on the couch with you, as your parents were caught up talking and dinner wasn't ready yet, you didn't want to just stand around awkwardly. "so, what brings you guys here" you ponder as you lean back on the couch. "well, my dad got a job opportunity here and well, obviously he took it so here i am" you nod in response simply interested in getting to know him. the both of you talk for a good 20 minutes, sharing stories, getting to know each other and when you get to the talk on houses...

"y'know i can see right into your bedroom, right?" you laugh, he quirks a eyebrow "oh really?" there's a thousand thoughts running through his mind and one of them is a real sleek plan. "yep, your bed and all if I wanted too i could watch you sleeping" "but I wont, I'm not weird" you laugh and joke before your mom calls you both for dinner.

the two families got along quite well, conversations here and there, lots of laughs and not so funny yet funny jokes.

after dinner you found yourselves all saying goodbyes and thank you's, and you had managed to score jungwons number.

10:39PM

jungwon had a plan, a real good one in his eyes too, now knowing you can see right into his bedroom and have an entire view of his bed? oh your so in for it. the subtle flirting and the closeness of your conversations earlier practically drove him up walls and he just had to have more of you in any way he could.

but you on the other hand, lying in bed on your phone, texting friends, endlessly scrolling through social media in boredom but your expression changes when the top of your screen lights up

jungwon

10:40PM

open your curtains 😉

you look up from the text message, what could he want me to open my blinds for? thinking a million things as to if why he would want you to do that, you brush those thoughts away and open your blinds

woah. sorry what?

the scene before you is near pornographic. his room dimly lit yet still light enough for you to see everything clear as day, his head thrown back in pleasure as he pumps his fist around his veiny and long dick. biting your lip at the sight before you as arousal pools in your panties.

ding you hear another message come through

jungwon

10:42PM

you should let me in through your window

oh this is so wrong but it feels ever so right? and who are you to decline such an amazing offer from a hot boy with a hell of a dick.

you

10:43PM

okay just be quiet tho

unlocking your window and quickly turning around to throw on a much more appealing and sexier pair of underwear as 'pajama bottoms' you lock your bedroom door and flop onto your bed, sipping some water as you wait for jungwon to break his way in.

with a little ruckus and the sound of your window closing, your met with your sexy as fuck neighbor, shirtless with only sweatpants on. biting your lip as he fixes his hair in your mirror you decide to catch him off guard "you have a really nice dick" speaking in a low tone as he turns around to you. "yeah? you wanna know how well i can use it?" hes smirking now, slowly coming to the edge of your bed.

your pulled to the end of your bed by your ankles, hips pressed against his as he pushes forward slightly against you. "you feel that baby?" his hard dick rubbing against you lightly. you nod in response, so needy for someone you had only just met. your mouth falls open with a deep exhale as you fell his fingers tugging on your panties, pulling them down and throwing them behind him.

his fingers graze over your pussy in such a teasing way, you cant help but push your hips onto his fingers in need of some friction he lets out a small tsk as he slowly rubs circles over your clit "so needy" he bites his lip you have such a pretty pussy using his free hand to push one of your legs up so your nice and spread out for him.

a digit finds its way into your sopping hole as your grip tightens on your bedsheets , he adds a second finger earning a reaction from you "jungwon!" hes satisfied at the sound, your pussy is so wet and he gets impossibly harder at the sight and sound of you. "you want this dick princess?" he breaths out and you nod eagerly , pussy begging for more as he removes his digits and finds himself dropping his pants and boxers to the floor.

shit its so big is all you can think in that moment, your thoughts are swiftly taken from you as he pushes past your entrance in a slick motion. bottoming out as you throw your head back and suck in a big gasp "oh fuck!" you whine out to him "i havent even moved yet" he laughs as he runs his hand over your tummy, he can feel his own dick there.

he slowly starts to thrust in and out, taking the air from your lungs with every movement. "p-please jungwon more" you look at him with your doe eyes and he cant resist you. without even a second to think he delivers a harsh and deep thrust that makes you borderline scream. "yeah you feel that dont you hm?" he teases you at the way you already look fucked dumb. he holds a steady pace, watching the way your face twists, as he says the dirtiest shit to you but fuck you love it so much.

your orgasm nearing clenching around him and moans getting higher, "you gonna cum? yeah gonna cum all over this big dick" he eggs you on, and he can feel the way you clench around him at his words. "yeah, shit, c'mon make a mess on this dick baby" he grunts as he moves a hand to rub your clit, he has you squirming and trying to run away from the pleasure.

seconds later your cumming all over this new found boys dick, high moans and heavy breathing fills the room. jungwon reaching his own high not long after you, spilling his seed on your stomach followed by a string of praises as he lies down next to you.

"i think i quite like this new neighbour of mine"

#kpop #enhypen #smut #enhypen thoughts #kpop smut #jungwon #enhypen jungwon #neighbours #one shot

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phyrestartr · 9 months ago

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PR Stunt (Only, Right?) | Sukuna/M!Reader

W/C: 6.9K (oh god lol) #NSFW, fingering, implied fucking, bottom!reader, top!sukuna, angst, fluff, smut, happy ending, Sukuna owns a body shop, reader is an actor, kinda meet cute, ABO dynamics, mpreg, yes there are always babies involved because i love dad sukuna, surprise baby, sukuna is a dickhead (what else is new), Gojo is an actor, Getou is a manager/agent, Toji is a stunt coordinator, Jin is a teacher tags: @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @flowersatwork @watyousayin

“Did you sleep with (L. Name) (F. Name)?”

The question caught Sukuna off guard; normally, Uraume didn't inquire into his personal life in regards to who he had and hadn't slept with. They were a friend, yes, but moreover they were the bookkeeper and helped with securing clients and arranging meetings–celebrities and their managers were fucks that Sukuna didn't like negotiating with. Best to leave the yapping to someone with a cooler head.

“Where the hell did that come from?” Sukuna asked as he rolled out from under the newest commissioned vehicle.

Uraume walked to him, iPad in hand, and turned it to him, stone cold.

Sukuna sat up straighter and squinted at the screen, annoyed. You’d probably just made up some salacious rumour and spread it throughout your friend circles; or worse, you wanted revenge on him for something he probably definitely did. In that case, Sukuna could somewhat understand. But still–

(Name) putting on weight? What’s happening to the former bombshell babe of Japan?!

Pregnant with a baby boy?! The secret's out!

(Name) returns to the stage after giving birth to a baby boy–but who is the father?

(Name) driving a Ryoumen Sukuna rescue vehicle?! Could he be the deadbeat dad we've been looking for?

Sukuna sucked his teeth after skimming over the article titles presented to him.

“...No proof.”

“Ah. Then please explain this,” Uraume requested, still polite as ever, as they flicked to an additional few images the scumbag paparazzi had caught of you.

One was the car mentioned. Sukuna remembered it like it was yesterday–the joy of restoring a Porsche 911 back into its former glory was unmatched. You happily paid for all the parts and too often swung by to see the progress being made on the old thing. Obviously, Sukuna was more than happy to oblige.

The next was of you holding a little nugget of a baby against your chest as you walked down a street in Shibuya. Nothing too damning, nothing too inspirational.

But the last one–

“The fuck?” Sukuna mumbled as he snatched the iPad from Uraume’s hands and zoomed in on the now-toddler sitting with you in that damn Porsche, grinning brightly beside his mum while you ruffled his hair. His very, very pink hair.

Sukuna took a breath while he thought. He didn't have to think too hard, though, not when he still dreamed about you and the short-lived fling between the two of you.

“A Porsche 911, huh?” Sukuna grinned as he looked over the rusted beater of a car. He could still see scraps of its former glory, of the beautiful thing she used to be. Heaven knows she would've become an irreparable hunk of junk if you hadn't bought it from a scrapyard.

“Yep.” You beamed. “So you think you can make her pretty again?”

“You kidding? I'd pay you to let me fix this thing, baby.” Sukuna caught sight of your security stepping forward, but you waved them off without a second thought.

Sukuna smirked. “But it’s not gonna be cheap.”

You nodded. “Well, do what you have to. I'll pay whatever you need, handsome.”

“Yeah?” Sukuna asked, looking your neatly-manicured appearance up and down; you were dressed like you were meeting someone of great importance (and you were, obviously), with your hair groomed perfectly, outfit fit for a premiere, skin flawless.

“Mhm. And I tip well.” you looked him up and down in kind, grinning as you bit at the nub of your sunglasses.

“Done.”

Every time you came to check on his progress, genuine excitement flooding in your motormouthed words, you'd go home with him and fuck him silly.

And now, you were the momma to his baby. Allegedly.

“I–so what the fuck does this have to do with anything?” Sukuna ran a frustrated hand through his hair after Uraume took the tablet back. “Bitch isn't asking for anything, he's not asking me to be his public fucking baby daddy, not asking me to pay for nothing?”

“No,” Uraume conceded, “But he and his PR managers have reached out concerning this.”

The man groaned and stood. “Fucking hell. Can't stand fucking PR teams. The fuck did they want?”

“They want to make a statement about Touma's father.”

Sukuna froze.

“Touma's a good name for a boy, right?”

You asked the question so suddenly, so out of nowhere in the quiet of the afterglow. The city lights sparkled and winked at you both through the towering windows keeping you safe from the outside world. In hindsight, Sukuna would wonder if the city was excited for him. For you.

“What, for a mutt?” Sukuna drawled, puffing on a blunt while he played with your hair and drowned in the tingles left in the wake of fingers drawing circles on his bare chest.

“For a kid,” you chastised with a laugh. “I like Touma. Or Touka for a girl. Ayato's nice, too. Maybe Kazue.”

“You better not be pregnant.”

“I'm not, I'm not. I'm just getting baby fever, I guess.” You hummed and left a sweet kiss against his tan skin. “I guess being around a big, bad boy like you's got me feeling domestic.”

Sukuna laughed, dazed and happy. “You wanna ruin this pretty lil’ body for a fucking kid? Be my guest. Just don't come looking for a booty call after you've ruined yourself like that.”

“Oh, don't worry,” you cooed. “I won't.”

Man. Man.

“A statement.”

“In other words–”

“I'm not the fucking father.”

“This might be a good way to get Yorozu off your case,” Uraume suggested, and Sukuna perked up.

“Right. She fuckin’ hates kids.”

“So, if you were to have a son, and it's revealed you've been quietly trying to make things work behind the scenes with (Name), then hypothetically–”

“I'll take the runt.”

Truth is out–Ryoumen Sukuna is the father, (Name) tells fans on social media!

Sukuna hated seeing that shit. The circus celebrities had to dance through used to be funny until he somehow got swept up into it. Until he suddenly had a baby boy that looked so much like him and so much like you.

He spent too much time on your socials, scrolling through promotion posts and photos of you at red carpet events and premieres–and then he remembered you had a private account. One that you said he could follow. One that he never followed.

Sukuna rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling as he sulked in bed. Was he really about to sacrifice his pride for this? Was he seriously gonna request to follow your personal account just moments after articles dropped and tweets were sent about him being the baby daddy? Could his pride take it?

Fuck me. This shit is highschool.

He requested to follow, and not even a minute later, you approved it.

That had him interested. Did you want him to follow? Did you want him to be part of his little guy's life? Were you feeling a rush of anxiety and excitement like he was right now?

“Get over it, you fucking idiot,” he mumbled to himself before scrolling through your photos.

There was so much more here. So many photos of you pregnant, of Touma when he was so ridiculously itty bitty, of when you were recovering in the hospital, looking worn out and exhausted, but still beaming as you held your little boy.

There were photos of his first birthday and the cute…rustic cake you'd apparently made yourself. Your agent, Getou, was there, as was one of your fellow agency mates, Gojo, along with some other folks Sukuna did and didn't recognize.

Of course, his boy–your boy lit up the centre, eyes glittering with the reflection of sparklers and the warmth of a good, safe home. He was happy. The boy–his boy–your boy was happy.

Then he called you. He couldn't help it, not anymore.

Sukuna paced around his penthouse, sipping on his spiked coffee and trying to desperately control his…nerves? Alpha instincts? Excitement? Fuck, he didn't know. But he was full of whatever it was, and it drove him nuts.

“Hi!” You answered as you picked up, so full of life as usual. “Been a while. How're you? What's up?”

Sukuna felt so, so old suddenly. Why were you so awake in the morning?

“Think you can spare some of that pep in your step for me?” Sukuna asked. He smiled when he heard you laugh on the other line. “Dunno how the hell you're so awake in the morning.”

“Well, I don't party or work on cars until the crack of dawn,” you purred back, so sweet and teasing. Sukuna almost got hard. Ugh. Ugh. What the fuck was wrong with him?

“Hah? What, you sayin’ I'm irresponsible ‘n make shitty choices, babe?”

“Absolutely.”

“Tch. Omegas.”

You snickered again before cutting to the chase: “So, you're calling about my Touma?”

Sukuna swallowed. “Yeah. Gotta say I'm pretty fucking confused.”

“Yeah, I get it.” He heard you shift in bed, triggering a rumble of grumpy noises from your little one. You hushed him gently and apologized before the small, crackly purring resumed faintly in the background. The thought made Sukuna's heart ache.

“What do you wanna know?”

Sukuna inhaled deeply. “Why'd you keep it?”

“I wanted him,” you said. “Next question.”

“...When did you know?”

“Mmh…I guess about a week or two after we stopped hooking up.”

“And you didn't say shit?”

You went silent for a moment, and Sukuna felt his nerves tingle and prick. He wasn't anxious. He wasn't feeling betrayed. It wasn't any of that. Absolutely not.

“I guess I got cold feet,” you admitted. “I don't--I know how many baby daddy accusations you get, y'know? I didn't want you to think I was just trying to get you to pay me out or something.”

Oh. Okay. That made sense, actually.

Too many omegas and women Sukuna fucked around with pointed the finger at him if they caught some sort of STI or fell pregnant; even if it was months after fucking, Sukuna would be suspected of fathering the pregnancy of a newly-pregnant, ex-partner he hadn't seen in eternities, and the media would run to the ends of the earth with it. He was the infamous bad boy the media circuit loved to prey on. And Sukuna didn't really care for it–not until now. Not until those fucks ruined his opportunity to be a dad.

“Fucking–” Sukuna sighed and put his mug down to rub his face. “Shit. Shit. Fucking media bastards. Fuck.”

“I need to get my car tuned,” you said.

Sukuna deadpanned. “Read the fucking room, babe, we're not–”

“Do you want me to bring Touma?” You finished, undeterred by the alpha's grouchiness. “So you can meet him? I think he'd like that.”

Oh. Oh. Ouch. His heart–was Sukuna about to die? Why'd his chest hurt so much? What the fuck?

Sukuna cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. “I–yeah? Yeah. Alright.”

“Okay, cool. When's your next–”

“Tomorrow.” He cleared his throat again and scratched at the back of his neck. “Any time.”

You stifled a laugh poorly. “Don’t be nervous, Sukuna.”

“M'not. Fuck you.”

“I can do tomorrow. Let's saaay…1pm?”

“Yeah, sure. 1pm.”

You rolled up at 12:59pm.

Sukuna had the garage open, everything tidy and ready to go like he actually gave a fuck about tuning your car when his literal fucking son was about to be in his presence. But he was so not nervous. Definitely not fucking nervous. Nope. Nuh-uh. Never.

You stepped out of the car and Sukuna felt his heart jump; you looked the same as you did last time he saw you. You were dressed more casually, though, done up in joggers and runners with a university hoodie to top it all off. Clearly, you didn't care to impress today.

You threw Sukuna an easy smile before pulling open the back door and taking care in plucking your chubby bunny from his car seat. All the while, Sukuna wandered closer and closer, but maintained a respectful distance just in case your momma bear came out to bite. He knew you had an impressive temper when your easy-going self got pushed too far, and he would rather not bring that out right now.

“Pa!” Your son yipped as soon as he got up into your arms. “Puh Pa!”

You melted immediately, punching Sukuna in the gut with your happy scent of maple syrup and cardamom as the little one nuzzled up to you, repeating variants of “pa!” as he rubbed his chubby cheeks and snotty nose against your neck and face to get that perfect scent onto him.

“You're so sweet, bunny,” you cooed and adjusted him in your arms as you met Sukuna the rest of the way. “Hey, hey! So, did you want to meet him first, or–?”

Sukuna didn't know what the fuck to do, honestly.

“I, uh. Car shit first. What needs tuning?” He drawled, watching the pup clinging to you with rapt attention.

Admittedly, Sukuna didn't really pay attention to what you were saying and what you were gesturing to; he was too captivated by the faint wisps of scent he caught from your little one. He smelled of smoke and syrup–a perfect combination of his parents’ scents.

And he just looked so much like the both of you. Touma's skin tone tilted more your direction, but the glowy, bronzey quality that Sukuna brought to the table still shone through in its own weird way. His eyes were almond-shaped like his own, but bore the same, welcoming colour of yours. And, fuck, his hair was just a perfect match to Sukuna's. If the little shit got Maori tattoos too, he'd be a tiny carbon copy.

Damn. Speaking of–would his mom wanna meet the little shit? Her grandson? Would she ever bother leaving Hawaii to–

“You get all that?” You asked.

Sukuna stared at you. “Get what?”

You pursed your lips like you so often did and turned to the big, bad alpha.

“Maybe we should do the meet ‘n greet first, huh?” You swayed a little and kissed Touma awake. “Baby, you wanna meet a friend?”

“Buh!” Touma exclaimed. You gently guided his little face to look at Sukuna, and the boy looked star struck staring up at the absolute unit that was Ryoumen Sukuna.

“Touma, this is Sukuna.” You closed the gap between the two of you a little more, and Sukuna leaned down to look at the little one. His little one.

Sukuna twitched a smile as he looked over the little thing. “You sure this thing’s mine? Looks a little small.”

You laughed. “If you were born as big as you are, I’m so, so sorry for your mother.” You nuzzled Touma’s little cheek and bounced him a little.

“Wuh!” Touma’s little arms flew up towards Sukuna, and the towering man looked a little more than nervous, looking at the tiny pudgy hands like they were deadly weapons.

“Come on, don’t look at him like that.” You took Sukuna’s hand and delivered it to Touma. “He’s curious. He hasn’t met anyone as big and tall as you, y’know?”

Sukuna huffed, but let the little one grab at his fingers and hold his hand. “What, you don’t have another alpha looking after you? Hard to believe that. You're the neediest little bitch I know.”

“Stop. I'm not Yorozu,” you huffed, and Sukuna cringed at the name. “He has alphas around, sure. But not big ones like you–security excluded. It's not like other men want to play nice with another alpha's pup.”

Sukuna caught the hint of a frown on your face, and his hackles started to rise.

“Some dumbfuck giving you grief?” Sukuna asked, voice rolling with thunderous promise. He'd kill whatever moron fucked with you and his pup. You just had to drop the name.

You sighed, light-hearted. “You know what the rich and famous are like--we're the worst.”

Sukuna growled, and Touma mimicked the noise as best as he could with his pathetically teeny tiny crackled voice. Fuckin’ cute as shit.

“Tch. Don't sell yourself short.”

“I'm just trying to say I don't need that around my boy, and I sure as hell don't want it around me, either.” You nodded and stepped closer as Touma reached up for Sukuna again. Apparently just holding his hand wasn't doing it for the boy anymore.

“Good. Don't need those pathetic fucks around the runt–oi, wait, what the fuck're you–”

“Wup, wup!” Your son shrieked as you helped bully Sukuna into holding him.

“He wants uppies.”

“Uppies,” Sukuna balked.

“He wants you to–okay, you're bad at this–don't hold him like that! Here, do it like–” you cut off as you helped Sukuna get a comfortable hold on Touma while the littlest one squirmed and squeaked in delight, trying to climb up onto Sukuna's shoulder but failing miserably.

Sukuna twitched a smile as you sighed, exasperated by the ball of energy trying to scale the mountainous man. But he got a hold of him, tucking his arm under his butt and holding his back to make sure the little shit didn't go plummeting to the floor.

“You give your ma hell, huh? I can get behind that,” Sukuna hummed. His son's little hands papped at his face, grabbing at his nose and jaw–specifically over the dark tattoos streaking along the curves and cut of his features.

And you smiled the entire time. You pursed your lips tightly to hide it, but you did it so poorly. You always did. Maybe it was on purpose.

“So, can I tell you about my car problems now?”

Sukuna held onto his runt while you explained what flaws, either cosmetically or mechanically, were bothering you. It mostly consisted of slight dents from other assholes not knowing how to park, paint scratches, and more of that sort. As a fellow car guy, Sukuna could understand the anguish of having a favourite baby get all dinged up.

“Not hard to fix,” Sukuna decided. He held the hood up with one hand and looked over the motor–everything looked clean and well-maintained. He was almost impressed. “But, well, it'll cost ya. Uraume can send the details.”

You nodded. “Sure, sure, sounds good. I'm never taking this thing on the road again after it's fixed. Too many fucking idiots out there with piss poor driving skills.”

The mechanic smirked. “Ho? So beating up your car is what makes you start cussin’, huh? Noted.” He let the hood fall closed and adjusted his hold on the now-sleeping tot. “Couldn't even get you to do that in bed.”

“Psht, don't say that in front of the baby, Sukuna, jeeze,” you sighed and rubbed your face. “Babies remember more than you'd like to know.”

“Huh. You think he'll remember when he got–”

“No, he won't remember his inception.” You laughed and shook your head, but paused when you saw smears of concealer on your fingers and tutted.

“How long's the car gonna take? Should I get a rental?” You asked before the man could comment.

“Probably, if you want me to detail this thing right,” Sukuna mumbled. He reached out and turned your chin back to him, looking at the spots concealer missing, hinting at dark circles under your eyes.

Your face grew hot, but you nodded and cleared your throat. “Yeah, okay. I'll, uh. I'll call someone to pick us up–”

“I'll take you home.”

You brightened the slightest bit. “Yeah? I–okay.” You pulled his hand from your face and smiled. “I'll grab the car seat.”

Sukuna liked your house. It was a nice mix of traditional and modern with large stretches of woodgrain and bamboo. A neat outdoor garden and pond decorated the front, but a bigger, more lush collection of tropical plants greeted guests. It was beautiful, if one was desperate to be in nature.

“I'm just gonna get him to bed, be one second.”

Sukuna nodded and pocketed his hands as he pretended to not watch you trot upstairs with the sleepy cub melting in your arms. You still had a nice ass even after popping that little melon out. Huh.

He looked around your space more, wandering with slow, lumbering steps. The house wasn't huge by any means, but it was cozy and warm, quiet and hidden away from the city's gaze. That was probably why you chose it–here, you could be honest with yourself. You could shield your babe from the brutality of your career and keep him safe from leering eyes. Honestly, one of the leaves on your giant monstera could hide him from the whole universe.

Guy's too obsessed with growing shit. It ticked him off, but he didn't know why.

Maybe it was all the photos of you and Touma. Maybe it was because he wasn't in them and too many other men were in his place, lining your walls in the protection of cheap IKEA frames–but Sukuna didn't want you. No, no, Ryoumen Sukuna did not want anyone. He didn't want you. He didn't need to settle down and–

“You want a glass of wine?” You asked when you came back down the stairs. “It's plum wine. Don't really have any scotch or anything, but I–”

Sukuna scoffed before a mocking laugh slipped out of him. You paused, looking at him with bleak attention as he shook his head and pocketed his hands. Your request for him to stay pissed him off; clearly, you expected something more from him.

“Whaddaya think is gonna happen here, huh? You think we're gonna fall in love, pick up where we left off, have a happy little fuckin’ family to tell the tabloids about?”

“What?” You asked. “I never–”

“Didn't have to. Gotta admit, you did a better job than the rest of the whores that tried wrangling me in to–”

“All I asked,” you cut him off, voice quiet but firm, “Is if you wanted wine. I’m not proposing, Sukuna.”

Sukuna didn’t like that. The whole…not-being-into-him and not wanting him to stick around after he just shut you down. He sucked his teeth and took a breath, about to say something, but you spoke first.

“I know this is a PR thing. I know how the whole media circus works–you want your ex to stop bothering you, and I want people to stop asking questions about who the fucking father of my son is.” You paused, staring Sukuna dead in his eyes, a quiet, simmering rage boiling just beneath the surface of placid control.

“Call my manager when the car’s done,” you decided, sounding beaten down and exhausted. “I’ll send someone for it. Thanks for the ride home.”

Next thing the man knew, he was ushered toward the door and stood in the doorway, stuck on the idea of being kicked out of his omega’s–no, no, out of an omega’s house like he was trash.

“Fucking–wait, just–”

“What?” You snapped.

“I could–glass of wine doesn’t sound too bad–”

You shoved the bottle into his hands and slammed the door.

Sukuna tried to sleep it off–as in, he slept around to forget about the crushing weight of rejection collapsing down on him, shattering his chest, spearing his heart with shattered bone.

You still kept being so fucking nice to him, too. You never slandered him, never spoke ill whenever he was asked about in interviews–you spared his reputation with a kind smile every time you had to talk about him or to him.

And he was grateful for it, even if he didn't return the favor. It's not like he was on a smear campaign, no, but anytime a hook up would ask about you, he wouldn't give a glowing review, per se. But it wouldn't be scalding either. Just sheer indifference tainted with drops of bitterness stemming from unripe guilt.

It went on like that for months–until you did your parental duties, and set aside your feelings about Sukuna for the sake of your son.

“Uraume, get that,” Sukuna called as his phone rang. He was too busy fucking around under the hood of his latest project to wipe his hands free of grease and pick up himself, obviously.

But Uraume was there for a reason. They picked up the phone with a polite hello before their sharp frigidity melted into rounded edges.

“(Name)-san,” they hummed. “It's good to hear from you. Do you need to talk to Sukuna-san?”

Sukuna started wiping his hands off so unbelievably fast.

“He's working on a car right now. You know how he can be when he's focused.”

“Fucking–piece of shit–what the fuck–” somehow, he got even more grease and oil on his hands thanks to that stupid fucking rag. God, what a nightmare.

“Sure, I can take a message.”

“Fuckin’ shit fuck, fuck.” He wiped his hands on his designer jeans before running to Uraume and gesturing for the phone.

Uraume's brows raised, and they actually smiled.

“Ah, hold on, Sukuna-san's here.”

Sukuna snatched up the phone, ignoring the knowing look glimmering in Uraume’s eyes. Ugh. Ugh. Betas.

“Hey,” Sukuna said after clearing his throat.

“Hey! Ume said you were working on a car? You didn't have to stop to talk.”

“Yeah, well.” Sukuna shrugged to himself and kicked a scrapped car part, sending it skittering across the ground and clanking into other parts. Jesus, when did his shop get so messy? “Needed a break anyway.”

“Ah. You work too hard, you need to take breaks more often,” you laughed sweetly. “So, listen, Touma's birthday's coming up–”

“Shit, seriously?” Sukuna grinned and kicked another chopped part. “Fuck. How old's the little shit turning?”

“Two! He's growing up so fast, I wish I could slow down time and–” you paused and laughed, suddenly sounding unsure and a bit nervous. “Sorry, sorry, was about to go on a tangent. Anyway, there is a little get-together, but you don't have to come. Satoru and Toji'll be there. But your brother and his son'll be there, too, so it won't suck completely.

“Otherwise, if you want to come see him earlier or something, that's fine, and–and you're not cutting me off and I didn't think I'd get this far so I'm losing the plot.”

Sukuna huffed. “What, you don't want me to fuckin’ listen, huh?”

“I know you will since I have such a pretty voice, but I'm surprised you're being a good boy for once.”

The mechanic rolled his eyes and rubbed his face. Who knows if it was to wipe away embarrassment or fatigue.

“You’re exhausting.”

“And you’re a dick.” There was a special brand of teasing bitterness behind those words, but the vibes were balanced perfectly; seemed you were still cranky about what he said, but you were willing to let it slide.

Sukuna chuckled, relaxing the slightest bit. “Alright. I don't know what the fuck kids like at that age, but I'll figure somethin’ out. I can at least show up Jin.”

“Wow.”

“Text me time and place. I'll be there.” After a moment, he added, “I’ll bring some plum wine. Fancy shit.”

The hidden rumble of a purr snuck its way out from your side, and Sukuna did everything he could to suppress his alpha's reciprocation.

“Sounds good. See you then, Sukuna.”

Toji answered the door.

“Hah. Why the hell are you here?” The fuckhead ex-Zenin asked with a stupid, shitty smirk on his dumbass face.

Sukuna strained not to throw the first punch. He really shouldn't murder someone at his--your son's birthday party. Murder is bad. Murder is bad.

“Fuck you.” Hey, at least it wasn't murder. “‘M here for my fucking kid.”

Toji crossed his arms and suddenly looked beyond bored as he leaned against the doorframe.

“Your kid? You mean (Name)’s kid?” He wondered, putting on a show of thinking. “Weird.”

“You're one to talk. You forgetting what you did to your own brat? You fuckin’--”

“Sukuna!” Your sweet voice called, instantly changing the atmosphere. “Glad you came. Do you–oi, Toji, move, stop bodyguarding. You're not a bouncer.”

“Eh?” Toji stayed in his spot as you smacked at his arm and tried to push him away. “I'm just standing here. Not bodyguarding. Minding my business.”

“You’re so full of shit.” You wheezed and squeaked as the man suddenly gave way, nearly making you crash into him and plummet to the floor. But you caught yourself and hissed at the dark-haired menace until he whistled innocently and waltzed away.

“Fucking--why’s he here again?” Sukuna grumbled as you let him in. He leaned down to nose at your cheek with a grumpy, quiet grunt--typical greeting procedures for an interested individual or bonded pair. But the way you choked on whatever you were about to say meant he must've caught you off guard.

“He's uh–we work together. We've worked together? He was the stunt coordinator for some movies I've been in.” You cleared your throat and took the present bag from Sukuna to place with the others. “And I babysit Gumi sometimes.”

“Gumi? What the fuck is a Gumi?”

“Megumi? His son?” Oh. Oh. “I babysit Yuuji too, so. Thick as thieves, y'know?”

Sukuna nodded a little, thinking hard on the lore. He liked that Yuuji was taken care of by you, but surely that wretched Gumi could go somewhere else. Toji was probably just leeching off of you.

“Oi, Momma, get in here,” Toji crowed from wherever all the baby giggles and excitement bubbled from in the house. “Your boys need some maternal guidance–”

“Toji, don't make it weird!” Jin whisper-yelled before going on a long-winded rant about this and that, about proper behaviour and attitudes in front of children (not that the kids were paying attention to anything Toji did).

You gave Sukuna a tired smile. “Come on. It won’t be that bad, I promise.”

Sukuna sighed, but let you drag him to his demise, bottle of wine in-hand.

But it wasn’t that bad. Not really.

Your other boys, Gojo Satoru and Getou Suguru, showed up and showered tiny Touma with way too much praise and far too many gifts, but the little shit looked so pleased that Sukuna couldn’t get too annoyed. Shoko and Uraume came by, too, much to Sukuna’s surprise. Uraume brought with them a whole fucking confectionary cake they’d crafted themselves at home. Gojo obsessed over it and Getou tried to reign him in to no avail.

And the night went on. No one talked shit, not unless it was in good fun, no one got fucking hammered, no one talked about work–it was all about the kids. Nothing else. No one else.

Sukuna could never guess just how far that truth went.

When everyone left for the night, the alpha could start to see the edges of your smile fraying. But you held on, thanking everyone for the gifts and for showing up for Touma, and especially thanking Jin for offering to let all the little ones spend the night at his place (you and Toji would forever be in his debt).

Then, when the door closed and all fell silent, he heard you cry.

Sukuna didn't know what to do about people crying. He never had. Even when he was a kid, he had a hard time trying to comfort people with hugs and words of reassurance–he just couldn't do it.

“It's okay,” he heard you whisper. “It's okay. It's okay. You're okay. It's okay. I'm okay.”

Sukuna got up and leaned against the doorway to the kitchen. “Sure about that?”

You jumped and clasped a hand over your mouth to stifle your scream. Sukuna barked out an ugly, reedy laugh while he defended himself from your petty smacks and pinches.

“You scared the fuck out of me–why're you still even here? Go home! Shoo!” You wiped your eyes once you were done harassing him and turned away, busying yourself with cleaning up dishes and wrapping paper left in the aftermath.

Sukuna followed you idly, a shit-eating grin still plastered on his face. What could he say? He loved seeing you get all petty and riled up. But he didn't love seeing you cry. He didn't love seeing you try to stealthily wipe tears away, to try and steady your shaky breathing.

“What’s going on with you, babe?” Sukuna asked as he settled beside you at the sink.

“It's nothing,” you said with a snuffle. “It's seriously nothing. Sorry, I--you don't need to stay. Or anything.” You sighed and rubbed at your eyes with your sleeve. “You've done your fatherly duties. You're free to leave.”

“Yeah? ‘N what about my baby daddy duties?” He wondered, voice so horribly low and comforting, like the buzzing crackle of a campfire.

You laughed, watery and shaky. “You already did everything you needed to, Sukuna.”

“Come on, don't cockblock me like that.” He gently tilted your Chin his way to catch your eyes just like he had back at the shop all those months ago. “Look at me.”

You did. Your eyes were red and irritated, whatever pretty boy make up you wore was wiped off and smudged, and those heavy, dark bags met the light in front of someone else for the first time in a long time.

You still had the gall to laugh it off and pull Sukuna's hand from your face with a small, “I'm fine,” though.

“Then why the hell are you crying?” He asked.

You squeezed his hand with both of yours. “Things are just…hard. Overwhelming.”

Sukuna nodded a bit. “That why Jin took the runts tonight?”

“Yeah. Needed some time, I guess.” You snuffled and wiped your face with both hands before finishing up with cleaning. “Makes me sound like a shit parent, I know.”

Sukuna couldn’t disagree more. “Least you're not flipping out on the kid. That'd be way shittier, yeah?”

“I don't know. I guess, but–yeah. I don't know.”

Sukuna sighed and scooped you up like a new bride. “You're driving me fucking mental.”

“Sukuna–!”

“Quiet.” Your omega indeed piped down at the grouchy command, and you shyly let the man carry you up the steps to find your bedroom. “You're getting some damn rest. You look like shit.”

You grumbled something Sukuna elected to ignore in favour of tossing you onto a bed the way one might lob a stone into a pond. You landed with a warbled squawk and looked at Sukuna with horribly accusatory, baffled eyes.

Sukuna quirked a brow as he looked down on you, gladly using his broad build and tall stature to secure your submission. And it worked; the aggravated spark in your eyes curled up and fell silent after a few long seconds. Your head lowered just the slightest bit, too, but your passive gaze remained stuck on him, waiting for his next move.

“Fine,” you grumbled.

Sukuna raised his brows and eased onto the bed, caging you underneath him with his solid frame. Your scent flickered with shy playfulness, and Sukuna relished in it.

“How do I know you're gonna obey, omega?”

“I guess you don't. Not for certain,” you admitted begrudgingly.

“Tch. Someone's gotta keep you accountable then, huh?” He nosed at your neck, nearly letting his lips touch your neck but refusing to do so in the same instance. “Make sure you're doing the right thing, make sure you're behaving.”

One of his hands squeezed at your soft thigh before inching up little by little. Your hands found themselves in his hair as he teased at your joggers’ waistband, pulling the elastic taut before letting it go.

“Sukuna,” you laughed, sounding a little breathless. “I, uh–I thought you said–”

“Changed my mind.”

“But–”

“Forget what I said and let me make you cum on my fingers, brat.”

Oh. Well, hard to argue against that.

You swallowed but gave a meek nod. He ripped your bottoms off and felt up your blazing skin with rough, calloused hands, groping and grabbing in the same spots he liked back when you were hooking up: your thighs, your hip bones, the squish of your stomach. As much as the man harped on about not wanting “damaged goods,” he sure worshiped your body like it was brand new, untouched.

Sukuna brought his fingers to your mouth, and you took them with utmost compliance. Your tongue worked against his digits thoughtfully and thoroughly for your own sake–a lack of starter lube wouldn't end well, after all. And Sukuna was not the most patient man in the sack.

“See?” Sukuna crowed into your ear as his hand traveled south and a finger sunk into you. “It's not so bad to just behave, now is it?”

You already felt like you were about to explode, and Sukuna savoured It. He liked being the one to do this to you–the only one for a while, considering how tight and sensitive you were. Any little push or prod inside you brought sweet sighs and soft moans to the surface–and a second and third finger had your hips bucking and your nails digging into his shoulder and back as he finger-fucked you to oblivion while still caging you in.

“Good omega,” he cooed. “Gonna cum already, huh? Tch, you shoulda said no one’s been taking care of you; I would’ve taken my parental responsibilities more seriously.” His lips and teeth landed on your neck, as you curled up into him, body tensing, heels digging into the mattress, panting and gasping getting louder and faster. The sound made his pants strain even more.

“Fuck, you smell fucking good. Better than when I fucked you the first time.”

“I-I forgot you talked so much in bed,” you managed out. “Could you just–shut up?”

Sukuna growled, and you whined. “You want me to shut up, huh? You wanna listen to your slick fucking hole getting spread open, plowed into? You miss me that much, omega?”

“No.” You hissed and clung to his upper arm as he somehow managed to take it up a notch, slipping his fourth finger in and spreading you obscenely wide.

“I think you did. Think you were hopin’ I’d come around, plow you into the bed again, stuff you full like no one else can.”

“Sukuna–”

“I’ll fill this hole up all you want, baby–I’ll even stuff another pup in you. Twins. You want that, huh? You gonna be my omega from now on? Creaming on my cock ‘n fingers the way you shoulda been the day you walked your perfect, little ass into my life?”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up–” you choked on a gasp and bit into his shoulder, soaking his shirt with drool and shuddered mewls while your body tightened and ecstasy hit like the weight of Sukuna’s words–brutal, fast, honest.

Sukuna moaned in sympathy, ignoring the way his hand and arm cramped and ached to keep pistoning into you and draw out your high. He couldn't help it–something about you drove him mad in that moment. It could have been how you made his ego swell, it might've been the way his greed needed your slick staining his and only his skin, perhaps it could have been a quiet yearning coming from his lonely, hollow alpha. He didn't know. But he didn't question it.

Your body started to relax with the death grip you had on his shoulder as you came down from the sudden, electric high. Your hips still jolted with every slow, lazy push into your soft hole, though a haze of purring and cooing filled the spot where gasps and moans once did. Eventually, you melted off of him and collapsed onto your back, looking as content as a cat lounging in the sun.

“Oi, oi, you're not done yet, sweetheart.” But if you said you were done, he might've listened. Just that once.

You hummed something as you looked up at him, eyes doey and so egregiously lovey-dovey.

“That's a nice face. Make sure you save it just for me,” Sukuna gently commanded, and you laughed.

“Demanding. I thought you didn't like used goods.”

Sukuna scowled. “Shut up.” His free hand traced the stripes of stretched skin left in the wake of bearing his baby boy. “I like ‘em when they're used by me.”

“Does that really make them ‘used goods,’ then?” You murmured as if speaking logic too loud would break Sukuna's entranced obsession of you.

But maybe, maybe, you had a point.

“Guess I'll have to think on that.” His fingers slipped out of you and he gave you a wet slap on the ass to wake you up. Your subsequent squeak sure as hell woke Sukuna up.

“Ow. Gross.”

“I'm not finished with you, brat. Don't get too fuckin’ content, yeah?” He smirked when you glanced at his crotch expectantly. “You want me to fuck you?”

“Please.”

Sukuna sighed and settled between your legs as he futzed with his belt and button. “Could put up a bit of a fight.”

“Too tired.” You yawned and stretched with a pleased sigh. “No will to argue.”

The alpha leaned down to bite at your knee, and you pulled your legs together to avoid his chunky, rude fangs. You knew he'd delight in making you bleed or leaving dark bruises. He was the worst.

“Still got a little fight left in ya,” Sukuna said with a grin. “Let's see how much more we can find, hm?”

#male reader insert #sukuna x you #sukuna x m!reader #jjk #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #reader insert #ryoumen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk smut #jjk x male reader #jjk x y/n #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryoumen x reader #itadori sukuna x reader

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foxy-eva · 4 months ago

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Full of Wonders

Summary: Dressing up as Catwoman for Halloween gives you the confidence to switch things up in the bedroom

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: (18+, minors DNI) nicknames, power dynamics, heavy kissing, nipple play, oral, use of strap-on (Emily receiving)

Word count: 2.6k

Author’s note: I wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins Autumn Air Writing Challenge!

Masterlist

“Damn Emily, I think you’re in trouble,” Luke teased when he saw you walking through the door to join the Halloween party Penelope was hosting.

Emily’s eyes found you in the crowd and she couldn’t believe what she saw. You had dared to dress up as Catwoman – certainly a reference to Emily confessing how sexy she thought the actress was when you watched the movie a few weeks ago.

Your outfit was flawless – a skin-tight black bodysuit, a full face of make-up with perfectly done eyeliner and a hairband with cat ears. It took Emily a second to realize you even brought a black leather whip as an accessory.

“Wonder Woman,” you giggled once you saw Emily in her costume. “Nice seeing you here.”

“I wonder who’s gonna win that fight tonight,” Tara quipped while scanning the both of you.

Spencer chimed into the conversation, “Considering that Wonder Woman has superhuman powers, including extraordinary strength and speed and the ability to fly, I don’t think that Catwoman would stand a chance. Did you know that–”

Luke placed his hand on Spencer’s shoulder to interrupt him from starting infodumping. “Reid, trust me when I say that’s not what she meant.”

You watched as an oblivious Spencer walked away with Luke to get some snacks before you turned to your girlfriend.

“You look great,” Emily cooed before placing a brief kiss on your lips. “I knew that dressing up as superheroes was a good idea.”

“Are you surprised I chose Catwoman?” You teased as you swung your arm around her waist.

“A little, yeah. It’s not like you to wear something so daring,” Emily confessed.

“You’re right but seeing your face was worth it. Hulk would have been my second choice, by the way,” You joked.

Emily took your hand to walk a few steps away from the crowd. When she was sure that nobody else was close enough to hear her, she leaned closer to your ear and whispered, “So, will you be a good kitten for me tonight?”

A smirk spread over your face. “You wish.”

“Huh,” Emily breathed. “I feel like this will be a very interesting night.”

After leaving a featherlight kiss on Emily’s lips, you joined the rest of your friends to enjoy the party. Your girlfriend seemed especially affectionate tonight, holding you by your waist and kissing you whenever the others were busy talking to each other.

It was unlike Emily to show so much physical affection in public. There was something in the way she looked at you, her eyes dark and filled with desire. It became obvious that your girlfriend wanted you and had a hard time keeping her composure.

You wondered if it had something to do with seeing you in such a daring outfit. After Emily placed her lips on yours for the umpteenth time that night, you decided that you couldn’t wait any longer to find out.

Even though the night was still young, you whispered into her ear, “I think it’s time to go home.”

The grin that spread over her face could only be described as mischievous. She nodded and grabbed your hand, wasting no time to lead you away from the party and towards her car. Before you could get inside, she shoved you against the side of the car to capture your lips with hers.

This kiss was different from the ones before. There was no more holding back, no more need to act all demure in front of your friends. She didn’t waste any time to deepen the kiss, her tongue finding yours in an instant. Emily kissed you with a fervor that knocked the air out of your lungs.

You felt like you could get drunk just from tasting her lips. The urgency in her actions made your heart jump. She held you against the car, hindering you from moving away as she got lost in this kiss. When she let out a muffled moan there was no more denying how much Emily needed you.

She pressed her hips against yours and you could feel the heat radiating from her body. A similar warmth had already begun spreading over your own skin, too. In that moment you wished that you weren’t in public. Your fingers twitched against her waist, becoming curious what a mess they would find if they dared dipping beneath her skirt.

“Let’s go home,” you mumbled against her lips. “I want to be alone with you.”

There was no more time to be wasted to get to your destination. You felt like your entire body was on fire as you waited patiently on the passenger seat to finally be alone with your girlfriend. The tension between the two of you only grew the longer the drive took.

Once you finally stepped inside her apartment, it was as if something inside you snapped. Usually it was Emily taking the lead in your encounters but you decided you wanted to switch things up this time. When she kissed you, it was as if you two began fighting a battle of who had the upper hand.

Emily smirked against your lips when she realized what you were doing. She moved with you as you attempted to push her against a wall, breathing out a quiet laugh when you began kissing her neck.

“You’re cute when you think you’re in charge,” she chuckled.

Instead of responding, you bit down on her pulse point and Emily hissed a curse.

“Careful,” she warned you, a playful tone laced over her voice.

You found her eyes once more and almost got lost in their darkness. “You’re the needy one tonight,” you teased her as you pressed your thigh between her legs. “There’s no denying that.”

“I can’t help it when you look so sinful,” she groaned.

Your tone was soft and loving when you breathed, “Let me take care of you, Emily.”

And just like that she gave in. With a nod she signaled her approval to follow your lead. A rosy shade had spread over her cheeks, making it obvious how turned on she already was. Seeing Emily like that almost drove you insane.

She always looked incredibly beautiful when you were with her. But the way she almost seemed desperate tonight was something entirely new to you. She would have never admitted it but you were certain that she wanted you to take the lead all along. And you were eager to give her what she desired.

You led her into the bedroom and slowly began ridding her of her costume. Each piece of clothing fell to the floor, revealing her skin to you. When she stood completely bare in front of you, you took a moment to take in her beauty.

Your eyes lingered on the curve of her breasts, noticing how her nipples had already hardened. Reaching out your hand, you gently brushed your fingertips over her chest, paying close attention to the way her skin broke out in goosebumps.

Emily reached out her hand to take off your hair band, letting the cat ears fall to the floor. You had long abandoned your whip and heels at the door but your tight bodysuit was still in place. Her hands began brushing over the smooth fabric until they found a zipper to pull down. You moved with her until you were only left in your black lace underwear.

“God, you’re so sexy,” Emily groaned before she found your lips in a hasty kiss.

With a firm push against her shoulders, you had her lying on the bed in an instant. A playful smirk was written over her face when you crawled on top of her. “Good kitten,” she cooed right before kissing you again.

You remembered that you were the one in charge tonight. So you quickly grabbed her wrists and pinned them over her head, a gasp falling from her lips. She could have easily overpowered you but had no desire to do that. Emily seemed curious about what exactly you had in mind for her.

Your lips brushed over her cheeks before leaving kisses along her neck, gently biting down on her sensitive skin. Moving further down, you took one nipple into your mouth while your hand found the other one, taking it between your fingers and playing with it until moans began falling from her lips.

Emily began rocking her hips against yours, desperate to find some friction. Descending further down, you kissed along her stomach, her sides, her hips before settling between her legs. You had seen her many times before but each time she opened her thighs for you, you were mesmerized by her beauty.

It was as if you watched the prettiest flower go in full bloom, each pedal layered perfectly over the other. She was glistening, as if morning dew had kissed her folds, leaving her honeyed wetness for you to enjoy. You took your time as you tasted her folds, relishing her heady scent and imprinting her uniqueness onto your tongue.

What you were doing was more teasing than actually pleasuring her and you were both aware of that. It only aroused her more. When she began squirming underneath you, you stopped what you were doing and sat up between her legs. Emily whined in protest, a confused look on her face when she found your eyes.

“You’re so fucking wet,” you purred as you leaned over her.

She only sighed in response and it became obvious that she was starting to get impatient with you. You had no intention of teasing her any further, there was just something specific you had in mind. Something you had only done with reversed roles before.

When you found her ear, you whispered, “I want to fuck you.”

Emily’s eyes widened at your words. She understood what you meant but needed a second to process. Then, without a second thought, she groaned, “Do it.”

Her words took you by surprise. A part of you thought that she would decline your offer and instead flip you over to take back control. You had not expected for her to submit to you to the fullest.

Emily watched as you sat up to reach for the nightstand, opening the drawer to take out the strap. Your fingers shook with excitement as you slipped into the harness, adjusting the straps until it sat securely over your underwear. It was then that you noticed how wet you were, the soaked lace of your panties sticking onto your skin.

Your girlfriend reached for the bottle of lube and squeezed a fair amount of it into her palm. She grabbed your strap to coat it with the liquid. The sight of her hand caressing this new extension of your body was captivating. For a second you thought about asking her to take it into her mouth but decided against it. That would have been a sight your poor heart probably couldn’t handle. Your heart was already beating uncomfortably fast inside your chest.

It was as if Emily sensed your nervousness when she looked at you with a reassuring expression.

“You look amazing,” she praised you. “I can’t wait to feel your cock inside me.”

“Then lay back and relax,” you whispered as you positioned yourself between her legs.

Before she did as you told her, she reached for the clasp of your bra to undo it. “Better,” she snickered as she tossed the piece of clothing aside and leaned back against the pillows. “Now I can enjoy the show.”

Holding the strap at the base, you slowly let it glide through her slick folds. When you brushed over her bundle of nerves, she bucked her hips against you. You repeated the motion a few more times before positioning the tip at her entrance. Before you began pushing into her, you looked at her one more time for reassurance.

When she nodded at you, you leaned over her and began pressing your hips against hers, carefully sliding into her body. You watched as the strap disappeared inside her one inch at a time, slowly stretching her open. Moans escaped Emily’s throat at the intrusion and she hooked her legs around your hip to bring you even closer.

Your lips found hers in a desperate kiss once you were fully inside her. With your bodies connected like that and your tongues meeting one another, it became impossible to tell where your body ended and hers began. Then, you started tentatively rocking your hips to thrust into her but you found some resistance from her body.

“Everything okay?” You wanted to make sure.

“Yes,” she confirmed. “Feels good. Just take it slow.”

You paid close attention to her reaction as you moved, so much so that it took you several moments to realize how sensitive your own cunt felt with all the pressure of the strap against it. As you rocked your hips against her, the friction you created almost became addictive.

You hadn’t expected to find it so physically pleasurable to fuck your girlfriend like that. She had been in that position many times before and you had never noticed it having such an intense effect on her.

But you could not deny the fact that the longer you thrusted into her, the close you got to your own breaking point. Emily noticed that, too. When you moaned against her lips, you felt her smiling into the kiss.

She reached out her hands to find your breasts, gently kneading them before focussing on your nipples. The added stimulation only brought you further to your downfall. This wasn’t exactly what you had in mind. You really tried to focus on her pleasure, really wanted her to fall apart this way but you hadn’t expected how good it would make you feel.

Your motions became erratic when your body started quivering. “Fuck, Emily… I–,” you whimpered as you felt your orgasm approaching.

“Do it,” she sighed as she pinched your nipples. “Come for me, kitten.”

That was what pushed you over the edge. You ground your hips against hers, your strap buried deep inside her as you came undone. When you collapsed inside her arms, you realized that no matter how hard you tried, Emily would always be the one in charge. And you wouldn’t want to have it any other way.

As you caught your breath, your girlfriend kissed your cheek. “My poor baby,” she purred. “So sensitive you can’t even fuck me without getting yourself off, hm?”

“I can’t help it,” you admitted. “You make me feel so good.”

Emily pushed on your shoulders until you were hovering over her again. Then, before you even realized what she was doing, she turned the two of you over with one swift motion. It took you a moment to realize you were the one lying on your back now.

“You make me feel good, too,” she moaned as she ground her hips against you.

The sight of her straddling your strap made you dizzy. Your hands flew to her hips, moving with her as she rocked back and forth on top of you. The sounds of her pleasure filled the room as she brought herself to closer to euphoria. One of your hands moved to where your bodies were joined to let your thumb draw circles around her most sensitive spot.

The sudden stimulation made her motions falter and it took her a moment to get back her rhythm. Your name fell from her lips when she finally entered the sensation of pure bliss, her walls clenching around the strap as she rode out her high on top of you. When she collapsed into your embrace, you were ready to catch her and hold her tightly against your body.

“That was fun,” she chuckled before kissing your cheek. “But I won.”

And she was right.

Please like, reblog and leave a comment! I need your lovely words to stay motivated to write more stories.

Taglist: @grumpyy-bearr @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @sapphicprentiss @lovelyy-moonlight @storiesofsvu @samuel-de-champagne-problems @evvy96 @lover-of-books-and-tea

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss smut #emily prentiss fluff #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds

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jxwl4k · 2 months ago

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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ flawless .𖥔 ݁ ˖

☘︎ . . . genre. fluff

☘︎ . . . pairings. bakugou x reader

☘︎ . . . requested? yes by anon

⤿ YN LN is the picture of perfection, brilliant, kind and impossibly talented. But behind her angelic smile lies a sharp tongue that she keeps hidden.

YN LN was perfect—untouchably so.

Her hair always shone like it had been blessed by the heavens, her grades were flawless, and her quirk—a dazzling ability to manipulate light into solid constructs—was nothing short of extraordinary. Every smile she gave was met with sighs, every word she spoke carried a melody of grace.

And it drove Katsuki Bakugou absolutely insane.

“Why’s she acting like she’s some kind of goddess?” he muttered under his breath as YN entered the classroom. Her angelic aura seemed to glow brighter when she greeted everyone. “Tch. Fake.”

YN, having heard him, maintained her kind smile, but her inner monologue flared to life:

“Fake? Oh, I’ll show you fake, you spiky-haired gremlin. Just wait until I—”

“Good morning, Bakugou,” she said sweetly, cutting her own thoughts off.

“Tch.” He didn’t even look at her.

“This brat’s gonna pay for ignoring me in front of everyone! I was blessed by God—this kind of disrespect would NEVER happen to me. I choose not to accept it!”

Despite her carefully curated reputation, YN had a side to her that no one knew—a competitive, hot-headed, and downright foul-mouthed streak that she kept buried beneath layers of charm. The only person who seemed to bring it dangerously close to the surface was Bakugou Katsuki.

It all started during a routine quirk demonstration.

“LN, Bakugou,” Aizawa called, looking as tired as ever. “You’ll be paired up to test each other’s quirks. Bakugou, go easy on her. LN, don’t let his explosions overwhelm you.”

Y/N’s smile didn’t falter, but her eye twitched imperceptibly. “Go easy on me? What am I, a toddler? I’ll obliterate him.”

Bakugou smirked. “Hope you can keep up, ‘Golden Girl.’ Wouldn’t want to ruin that perfect image of yours.”

Her fingers tightened into fists at her sides. “Of course,” she said with a laugh, though inside, she was seething. “You’re WAY off, idiot! I’ll wipe that smirk off your stupid face!”

The match began, and YN summoned a glowing shield of pure light, deflecting Bakugou’s explosions effortlessly. She countered with sharp, whip-like constructs, forcing him to dodge.

“Not bad,” he admitted grudgingly, sending another blast her way.

She sidestepped it with ease, her tone smug. “Oh? Did you expect me to just stand there and let you win?”

For the first time, Bakugou looked genuinely intrigued. “Hah. So you’re not just a pretty face after all.”

“A ‘pretty face’? That’s all he sees me as?! This guy—UGH!”

YN’s next attack was less restrained, her light constructs slamming into the ground with enough force to shake the arena. The spectators gasped, but she quickly composed herself, her sweet smile returning.

“Oops,” she said lightly. “Guess I overdid it!”

Bakugou, however, saw right through her.

After the match, YN sat alone, meticulously cleaning her gloves. Bakugou appeared out of nowhere, plopping down next to her with his usual lack of grace.

“What do you want, Bakugou?” she asked, her voice as light as ever.

He didn’t answer immediately, his sharp gaze studying her. “You’re not like them,” he said finally.

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You act all nice and perfect, but when we were fighting, you looked like you were actually havin’ fun. Like you’re hiding somethin’.”

Her hand froze mid-polish.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, her tone just a little too defensive.

He snorted. “Whatever. Just don’t bother pretending around me. It’s annoying.”

She watched him walk away, her heart pounding.

“That brat! Who does he think he is?!”

And yet, for some reason, she couldn’t stop the small smile that crept onto her face.

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bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky · 5 months ago

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Trick or Treat | Bucky Barnes x Reader

This is my second Halloween fic this year because I have no self control!

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: anxiety

Sam’s Halloween bash launched into full swing, and seemed as though it would last till sunrise. Music pulsed through a set of massive speakers. Alcohol flowed. And throngs of people danced the night away.

Just as Sam instructed, everyone arrived decked out in costume. And as you scanned the crowd, you found Ghost Face doing shots with Barbie. Michael Myers grinding on Freddy Kreuger. Pennywise flirting with Beetlejuice. It was a picture perfect Halloween party- save for one thing.

Bucky hadn’t arrived yet.

All of the partygoers formed a large, pulsating mass as they danced and celebrated, but you remained off to the side. In an empty, isolated corner, you checked and rechecked your texts. You’d already shot Bucky a few messages asking when he’d show. Asking if he was alright. And he swore he was fine. He said he’d be there soon, but that was as specific as he’d get.

“I’m sure he’ll be here any minute!” Wanda yelled over the music. She swayed to the beat, swishing the skirt of her dress back and forth. Every few seconds, she stole a glance at the dance floor with want in her eyes. “Come on, let’s go dance!”

“I’m with Mary,” Nat downed the last of her drink and draped her arm over Wanda’s shoulders. “The Sanderson Sisters are the life of the party, we have a reputation to uphold!”

When the three of you decided to coordinate your costumes, Hocus Pocus had been the obvious choice. In the weeks leading up to Sam’s party, you helped one another piece together flawless renditions of each Sanderson Sister. Wanda decided on Mary, and Nat dressed up as Sarah, leaving you to adopt Winifred’s famous ensemble.

And you had to admit, the three of you looked amazing.

But you couldn’t run to the dance floor and party with abandon- not yet, anyway. Bucky said he’d be there. He swore to you that he’d make an appearance. And while a loud, overcrowded party wasn’t his favorite way to spend an evening, he knew he had to challenge himself. To expand his comfort zone.

He wanted so badly to be “normal”. To function like a “regular” person. But he struggled. He had flashbacks. Panic attacks. Long depression spirals. And his anxiety always had the reigns.

But he’d fought tooth and nail to vanquish his demons, and now that he was making progress and healing bit by bit, he wanted to join the ranks of "ordinary" society.

And Sam’s party was the perfect opportunity. It was a safe, controlled environment where Bucky could stretch his comfort zone. Sure, it was loud and packed with people, but that was the whole point. If he was going to be “normal”, he had to be okay with noise and crowds; Sam’s party had both. But there was nothing for him to worry about, nothing to fear. He would perfectly and totally safe here. At least half of the attendees were fellow special agents, and you and Sam promised to stick with him all night.

But the party started over an hour ago, and he still hadn’t shown. Worry creased your brow; it wasn’t like him to be late.

“I think I’m just gonna hang out here for now,” you leaned against the wall and brandished your phone at them, “So I can make sure I don’t miss a call or anything.”

“You do you, sister,” Nat brushed a kiss against your cheek, “Mary and I are gonna command the dance floor.”

The two of them ran off, arm in arm, in the direction of the crowd.

“Is he on his way?” Sam came around the corner, two drinks in hand. He extended one in your direction and sipped on the other. “I haven’t heard back.”

“I don’t know.” You took a long pull of your drink, “I asked if he was coming and he said yes, but he didn’t give me a specific ETA, or anything.”

Sam shrugged, “I think he might flake.”

That same sneaking suspicion had crossed your mind a few times over the last hour, but you refused to accept it. Surely, Bucky just needed a little extra time to prepare himself. To get in the right headspace.

“I’m gonna- would you take this for a sec?” You handed your drink back to Sam, who swore to keep a watchful eye on it while you stepped outside to call Bucky.

The phone rang and rang. And you feared it might go to voicemail. But at the last possible second, Bucky picked up.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Something was off. He sounded almost nervous, like he’d been caught red-handed.

“Hey, Buck.” You kept your tone light. “Are you gonna be here soon?”

A long silence permeated the line.

“Um, yes. Yeah, I’m on my way right now,” he assured you. “Shouldn’t be much longer. I’ll see you in a bit. Okay?”

“Great." You didn't buy it for a second. "See you soon.”

For an ex-assassin with decades of stealth training and countless kills on his hands, Bucky was a terrible liar. But only when it came to you. He just couldn’t deceive his best friend, couldn’t pull the wool over your eyes. He simply didn’t have it in him; his brain and body rejected even the concept of swindling you.

You knew for a fact that he was still at his apartment. Knew that his anxiety had won. You could practically see him sitting at home all alone, hating himself for flaking on yet another get-together. And while his closest friends danced the night away, he’d spend the entire evening berating himself. Chastising himself.

But you wouldn’t allow it. With a determined huff, you ditched the party, and set off in the direction of Bucky's apartment.

Bucky stared at the costume you’d carefully helped him assemble. It sat neatly folded on his kitchen table, all he had to do was put it on and head out the door. But he couldn’t bring himself to do so. And it infuriated him.

He spent weeks mentally preparing himself for this. He meditated, journaled, and even sought out extra therapy sessions. But none of it worked. He was still a slave to his anxiety, bending to every whim of the monsters in his head.

The whole thing was so stupid- it was just a party. He knew, logically, that there was nothing to fear. But part of his brain, the part that hated him, told him it would be too much. That he’d immediately get overwhelmed by the noise and the people and the lights. That it was a panic attack waiting to happen.

He feared what onlookers might think, what they might say, if he broke down in the middle of the festivities. And he didn’t want to chance ruining Sam’s party.

And so, he’d lied to you. He wasn’t proud of it, but it was for the best. He just wanted you to have a good time. Wanted you to spend the night dancing with Nat and Wanda instead of worrying about him. It was better this way.

A sharp knock jolted him from his seat on the couch. He crossed to the front door and pulled it open, expecting to see a group of candy-obsessed kids in costumes. But he found something else, entirely.

“Trick or treat!” You held a bottle of whiskey and a bag of candy proudly in the air, “Happy Halloween, Buck.”

Bucky took on a deer in the headlights kind of look. He was shocked, completely frozen. And as the surprise melted away, he found himself awash in strange mix of anxiety and guilt. You’d caught him in his lie; you’d found him out. And with you standing on his doorstep, he had nowhere to run.

“Sweetheart, hey. Hi. Um, Happy- Yeah, Happy Halloween.” He tripped over himself again and again, his heart racing. “I was just about to call you and-”

“It’s okay, Buck. You’re not in trouble,” you shot him a wink. “I know parties aren’t really your thing.”

He gestured for you to come in and you happily accepted, sweeping past him in your elaborate costume. But he was so bewildered, so overwhelmed, that he left the door wide open.

“What are you doing here?” Quickly, he clarified, “Not that I don’t want you here. I just mean- why aren’t you at the party?”

“Cause I came to hang out with you!” You shrugged, “Plus, there’s no point in me going if you’re not there.”

Bucky appreciated your loyalty, your dedication to him. But he couldn’t let you sit on the sidelines with him.

“That’s sweet of you, and I’m more than happy to have you here, but I know you’ve been looking forward to the party and your costume and everything. And I don’t want to ruin your Halloween.” He leaned against his open door, “So, it won’t hurt my feelings if you-”

“My Halloween will only be ruined if we don’t hang out. So, come on,” once again, you held up the candy and alcohol, “trick or treat, Buck.”

With a stubborn smile, Bucky shut the door. He watched you struggle with the bag of candy and laughed as you used your teeth to tear through the plastic.

“You know, I think you’re doing the whole ‘trick or treat’ thing backwards,” he said as he fished a Twix out of the bag. “Cause you brought candy instead of taking some from me.”

“Or maybe I’m a Halloween pioneer, and I’m inventing new traditions,” you offered. “Now, let’s crack this open.”

Bucky gladly took the bottle of whiskey from you and led you to the kitchen. He crafted old fashioneds for the both of you and clinked his glass with yours. His night had taken a very sharp, very sudden upswing, and he was more than grateful.

“I saw some kiddos trick or treating down the hall, and at least four of them were dressed up like Sam,” you laughed. “Have they been here yet?”

You eyed the large bowl of candy sitting by the front door. It was still full, nearly overflowing with sugary treats. And you realized: it was completely untouched. No greedy little hands had dug through it yet. No mischievous kids had snatched a handful or two. It just sat there, waiting.

It was sweet of Bucky to be prepared, to buy treats for the kids in the area. He was trying so hard to connect with people. To be a member of society. He wanted so badly to be seen as a person. But the world only saw him for his past.

“Um, no, I haven’t had any trick or treaters,” Bucky said, “Well, except for you.”

You shot him a wink a took a drag of your drink.

“But I’ve heard them- they’ve been running up and down my hall all night. I just don’t think…” He clinked his metal fingers against his glass, “I don’t think any of the parents in my building want their kids knocking on my door.”

His shoulders slumped forward ever so slightly, and his head fell an inch or two. Saying it out loud was humiliating. He’d thought- he’d hoped- that the city would embrace him. That they’d celebrate his return. But the only welcome he’d received was dirty looks and people spitting at him on the subway.

Bucky’s words knocked the air from your chest. A combination of heartbreak and unbridled rage swirled inside of you; it was all so unfair. Bucky didn’t deserve to be treated like a pariah or a threat. He was least intimidating, most approachable person you’d ever met. Sure, he was a little shy. But he was so warm. So kind. He genuinely cared about people. He wanted to help his community and make people feel safe. But they refused to give him a chance.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you took his hand in yours, “More candy for us.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and pulled you in for a long, much needed hug. He would never be able to express how much he appreciated your undying support. Your unconditional friendship. He knew without a doubt that he could always count on you. And after living in an unpredictable, erratic state of limbo for so many years, he cherished your consistency.

Bucky dug through the candy you brought, searching for a Snickers. “I know it’s selfish, but I’m really glad you came over.” He abandoned his candy hunt and brought his gaze up to yours, “Seriously. Thanks for being here.”

“Anytime, Buck. You know that.” You tucked the bag of candy under your arm and snatched your glass from the counter, “Come on, let’s watch a scary movie.”

Bucky followed your lead, only straying from the path for a moment or two. And when he returned, he brandished his overflowing bowl of candy in your direction. “I mean, if the kids aren’t gonna eat it…”

He sank into the couch next to you and took a swig of his drink as he watched you dig through the massive bowl of candy. A bit of guilt gnawed at him; he’d been so surprised to see you at his door that he hadn’t taken the time to appreciate all the hard work you’d put into your costume. And as you picked through his candy stash, he drank in the details of your ensemble: the perfectly crafted make up, the ornate dress, the complicated hairstyle. It was impressive, to say the least.

“Your costume is fucking incredible, by the way. You did an amazing job.”

“Oh, thanks!” A proud smile stretched across your face, “If it wasn’t so ridiculously uncomfortable, I’d probably wear it every day. But this corset is…” You pinched and pulled at the tight garment, “Definitely not intended for daily wear.”

“Then let me get you something to more comfortable.” Bucky was up in the blink of an eye, and before you could protest, he was gone.

In the time it took you to locate and unwrap a Kit Kat, he’d arrived in the living room with a change of clothes for you. It was just a pair of sweatpants and a faded t-shirt with BROOKLYN emblazoned on the front, but after spending hours in an uncomfortable corset, you swore he was offering you a slice of heaven.

With greedy hands, you accepted the clothes, “You’re a life saver!”

You sped off down the hall, promising to be back in a flash.

Bucky scrolled through the scary movies Netflix had to offer, but didn’t pay much attention. He couldn’t believe his luck. He’d planned on spending the night all by himself. He figured he’d oscillate between sulking and self-flagellation until he finally fell asleep. But you’d saved him, as you so often did.

“Seriously, I can’t thank you enough for the clothes. Now, I can actually breathe.” You plopped down on the couch next to Bucky, “Okay, what do you wanna watch?”

Bucky scrolled through a few more movies, “I don’t know, I haven’t heard of most of these. I thought I’d defer to you.”

You motioned for him to continue scrolling and gave him a little synopsis each time one of your favorites popped up on the screen.

He listened closely and took your summaries into careful consideration. And after hemming and hawing over his options, he found himself torn. “This is tough, but I’m thinking we go with It Follows or Evil Dead.”

“Both excellent choices!” You clinked your glass against his, “Let’s do It Follows first, and then if we want to watch another, we can follow up with Evil Dead.”

“Deal.”

Bucky scrolled back a page or two and selected It Follows. The movie’s opening scene began, showcasing a quiet, suburban street. You tucked yourself closer into Bucky’s side and tore into a package of M&Ms, preparing to be scared.

But after only a minute or so, Bucky paused the movie.

He turned to you, “Hey, I’m sorry about the party.”

“Buck, we talked about this. I’d rather hang out with you than-”

“No, I mean, I’m sorry I bailed.” He pulled his gaze from your face and placed it on the ice melting in his drink. “My anxiety kind got the best of me. And I-” He locked eyes with you, “I swear I tried. I wanted to go. But I just… I couldn’t do it.” His sudden eye roll caught you off guard, “The whole thing is so ridiculous, it was just a party, but even thinking about going made my hands shake.”

“It’s not ridiculous. You’ve been through a lot, and you’re still trying to wade through all the shit Hydra saddled you with.” You gave his hand a squeeze, “Healing takes time. And it’s not a linear process. You’re gonna have ups and downs- that’s perfectly normal.”

All he could manage was a sigh.

“Like you said, it was just a party. Nothing major. So, who cares if you bailed? All that matters is that you made the right choice for you.”

“I guess.” He carded a hand through his hair, “I just want to be done with it all, you know? I want to be able to do things that normal people do.”

“I know. But, you have to give yourself some grace, okay?” You brushed a gentle hand over his cheek, “And you need to be patient. Cause there’s no skipping to the end with this stuff.”

He nodded, “Yeah.”

“So, cut yourself some slack, okay?” You nudged his shoulder with yours, “No one is more deserving of slack than you.”

“I don’t know about that-”

“If the roles were reversed,” you posited, “And I’d been through all of the trauma and abuse that you went through, would you be upset with me if I couldn’t do certain things because of my anxiety ?”

“No,” he gave a fervent shake of his head. “Never.”

“And would you want me to be kind to myself?”

Without pause, an “of course” fell from his lips.

“Okay, then you need to extend that same kindness and understanding to yourself.”

“But I just want to be able to do stuff with you,” he huffed. “I want to go to parties with you. And concerts. And-”

“Hey, all that will come with time, okay? There’s no rush.” Once again, you gave his hand a squeeze, “You’re my best friend, and I just wanna hang out with you. So, it doesn’t matter what we do. As long as you’re comfortable, I’m happy.”

Bucky eyed you for a second, “You mean that?”

You nodded, “I swear on my life.”

An awkward smile crossed his face, “Then I guess I should tell you that I’m not- I really don’t want to watch a scary movie.”

“Oh, shit. My bad, Buck. We can watch anything you want,” you said, “You pick.”

With a few taps of the remote, Bucky opened an entirely different streaming service and selected a safe movie free of actual scares.

“It’s still on theme with Halloween,” he promised, “But at least it’s not gonna give me more nightmares.”

“Yeah, whatever you want, I don’t-” The opening lines of Hocus Pocus filled the room, and you delivered a playful punch to Bucky’s arm.

He let out a loud laugh, “I had to, sweetheart. You’ve still got the make up on and everything.”

You pelted him with a few M&Ms before settling close to him. He draped an arm across your shoulders and pulled you tight, relishing in your warmth. He was so lucky to have you as his friend, so lucky to know you. He couldn’t believe you’d ditched the party you’d looked forward to for weeks- all for him. Couldn’t believe that you were spending your favorite holiday unceremoniously watching movies on his couch.

But he knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. After everything he’d gone through, he was just grateful that he’d befriended someone with such a kind heart. And as he settled in to experience Hocus Pocus for the first time, he started plotting how he’d make things up to you next Halloween.

———————————————

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