#what if your man always pushed you to be better even if it meant you'd outplay him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eternal-evergreens · 6 months ago

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｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧JJK Men as Yanderes ｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧

Post Format: Headcanons

Featuring: Gender-Neutral Reader, Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Kento Nanami, Toji Fushiguro, Ryomen Sukuna, Mahito, Choso Kamo

Word count: Each piece is roughly 750 words

Warnings: implied sabotage (Gojo, Toji, Choso), invasion of privacy (Gojo), kidnapping (Gojo, Sukuna), murder (Geto), kidnapping mention (Nanami, Toji), suicidal ideation (Nanami), light gore (Gojo, Sukuna, Mahito), reader injury (Sukuna), threats of bodily harm/mutilation (Mahito), sexual assault (Mahito), implied murder (Choso)

Satoru Gojo

You're nothing special. Not compared to him, at least. With no long line of sorcery or blue blood running through your veins, your family is just about as average as it gets.

You're nothing special---not to Jujutsu society, anyway. But who gives a shit about that? To Satoru, you're more than special.

You're everything.

He's always been the strongest, and yet, when he's with you, he just feels so weak.

Like a schoolgirl fawning over her latest crush, Satoru often finds himself checking his phone while away on missions, hoping to see your name appear on his screen. It doesn't have to be anything special—even a picture of some ugly animal with the caption "That's u, lol." is enough to get him going. Just knowing you were thinking of him at all, even in an unflattering light, makes him feel lightheaded in a way not even battle can emulate.

It's weird. It's embarrassing.

But he can't get enough.

Satoru wants you more than he's ever wanted anything, and he wants you to feel the same way. He'd do anything if it meant winning your heart.

If you asked him to kneel, he'd kneel. If you asked him to beg, he'd beg. If you asked him to rip out a man's heart and present it to you, he'd ask if he should do so on a silver or gold platter.

If you asked him to let you go, however...

You sigh and fall back onto the couch. It'd been a week since your landlord mysteriously kicked you out, and Satoru took you in with a frankly suspicious eagerness. To say that he was an overbearing roommate was to put it lightly.

He'd follow you around the flat from room to room, enter your bedroom without knocking, and once, you even caught him sifting through your laundry. He wasn't even embarrassed about getting caught, let alone the fact that he had done it in the first place.

You decided to start searching for a new roommate after that.

"Y'know," Satoru says, slinging his arms around your shoulders---you hadn't even heard him approach. You quickly close your computer, which happens to have very clearly been showcasing cheap apartments in the area. "I could have just taken ya'. Snatched you up off the street like some kidnapper."

"What...?"

"---But I decided to play nice instead. I thought we could forge a real relationship that way. But you've just been pushing me away. I'm starting to think I've been too lenient with ya'. Like maybe I should have just locked you up instead."

"That isn't funny, Satoru."

"Who said I was joking?" You open your mouth to respond, but Satoru cuts you off before you get the chance. "You want dinner? I can order us takeout. Anywhere you'd like."

Drop it, his eyes say. You do.

That very night, you pack a bag and head to the nearest hotel. In the morning, you'll ask your job if they can transfer you to another city. For tonight, you'd like to just get a good night's rest without the lingering fear of waking up to his figure looming over you.

You wake up to familiar surroundings. It doesn't register as strange until you remember checking into a hotel the night prior. You shoot up to get a better look around. Sure enough, you're in your own bedroom, not the hotel's.

But how...?

You're sure you left last night. Did you dream it? You go to check your phone, but it's not there.

Just then, the door opens. "Oh, you're up," your roommate says.

"Satoru, what's---"

"I called you in sick for work today," he says casually, "and tomorrow. Actually, starting today, you're unemployed."

"What?!"

"Don't worry. I can take care of us. I've got more than enough money."

Satoru wants you more than he's ever wanted anything, and he wants you to feel the same way. He'd do anything if it meant winning your heart.

If you asked him to kneel...If you asked him to beg...

If you asked him to let you go, however...

"C'mon, baby, you know I can't do that," he'd say, arms around your waist and head in your lap. "Ask me for something else, anything. Just not that. Do you want a pony? We can get a pony."

"No---"

"What about a cat? Or maybe you prefer dogs? I could get a purebred if you wanted one. I know it gets lonely being in the house all by yourself."

"I want to go outside, Satoru."

"We could get a fish tank, I guess. Though I doubt they'd make good company."

"Listen to me---"

"Actually, maybe that's for the best. Wouldn't want to compete for my lover's attention in my very own home, you know?"

Suguru Geto

When he was at his lowest, Suguru thought of you. It kept him going. It kept him sane.

So, of course, you were the first person he asked to join him in the creation of the new world. His world.

"Our world," he said, the look on his face desperate, pleading.

You declined, of course. His ideals went against everything you stood for as a Jujutsu sorcerer. As a person.

He took it well---or seemed to, at least. He flashed you a plastered-on smile and released your hands from his, leaving you with no further fuss.

For a while, that seemed to be the end of it.

Life went on. Though you would occasionally catch wind of his nefarious deeds, dealing with such things never fell within your purview. In fact, it almost seemed as if the higher-ups were purposefully keeping you from any cases that involved him.

You had all but forgotten about that fateful evening when a call from the higher-ups had you booking a flight to Okayama.

Apparently, there had been a sudden influx of cursed spirits in the region. And as the lead researcher in cursed phenomena, you were called to the scene.

You had already been given a file outlining the happenings, but out of courtesy, Yumi, the assistant supervisor assigned to the case alongside you, filled you in regardless.

"It's not that there's a higher rate of cursed spirits being born in this area," she said. "They're migrating here."

"Hmm," you look over the map on your tablet again; colour-coded dots mark the locations and grades of each (presumed) non-native sighting. The spacings are far from natural. They seem to have been made with intent, almost as if forming a pattern of some kind.

"We've set up a barrier to track the arrival of new cursed spirits. Nearly every curse from fourth to semi-first grade in the neighbouring towns has been coming here. Some of our windows have even spotted them moving together in groups."

"Was there anything strange about their behaviour? Like moving in single-file lines, with strange movements, or perhaps even speaking?" Yumi lights up.

"Yes, actually! They were all---"

Your screen flashes, suddenly restarting the tablet without your input.

"Huh...?"

"[Last]-San..." Your supervisor almost whispers. You tear your eyes from your screen to hers as she weakly holds up her tablet to you.

Over four hundred cursed spirits have been spotted crossing the Okayama border within the past fifteen minutes.

Your tablet finishes restarting, and you scramble to view the map again, hoping what you just saw was nothing more than a glitch.

The loading screen seems to take ages to complete, but when it does, the map shows exactly what you feared.

Oh. You get it now.

The pattern it was trying to spell out. It's "愛"

---"Love".

You hear a scream.

"Ah, it's good to see you again. How long has it been now?" A voice---one you're all too familiar with---says. "Two, no, maybe three years?" Suguru is wiping blood off of his hands. You don't want to look down. You can't look down.

Yumi is dead.

You looked down.

"I'm not sure why I phrased that like a question I didn't know the answer to," he says, smiling in a way that makes your heart ache. "I've been keeping track down to the days, you see."

"Were you...behind this?" You've never been one for combat. You can't use reverse cursed technique to save Yumi. You can't fight to save the others. There's nothing you can do.

You've never felt so helpless.

"I did," he admits casually. "I recently got my hands on a new curse. First-grade 'Pied Piper', its technique creates a sort of call-and-response between itself and other curses of a lower grade through a musical frequency only other curses can perceive. With that technique, I can manipulate the movements of curses I haven't yet acquired without leaving my residuals behind."

"But if it's coming from the technique of a curse you possess, your residuals would still be left behind," you counter.

"Ah, as quick on the uptake as always, [First]," he praises. "You're right, or you would be if this curse were under the control of my curse spirit manipulation. No, this curse was tamed, not subjugated."

"Why are you telling me this?"

He's going to kill you once he's finished explaining.

"I've always appreciated an inquisitive mind," he says. "especially when it's your inquisitive mind." Your mouth forms a vague 'O' shape as the realisation dawns on you.

"愛"

"Love"

...You're never getting away.

Kento Nanami

Nanami is someone who has never really been all that content with life.

Sorcery sucks. Corporate sucks. Japan sucks.

Sometimes, on his darkest days, Nanami thinks about what would have happened if he had joined Haibara—or better yet, if he had never even been born in the first place. If the world is this awful, wouldn't it be better to have never experienced it at all?

But then he met you, and suddenly, the world didn't seem all that bad.

Don't get him wrong, it's not like your presence suddenly made all the wrongs in the world right, but it did make him feel like they all mattered just a little bit less. Like maybe all this suffering was worth it, if it also meant he could see you smile.

So, of course, he'd do anything to keep you safe. To protect that smile.

The easiest way to ensure that, of course, would be to clip your wings. To lock you away somewhere where only he could reach you. A songbird that only sings for him, a dove in a birdcage.

He'd treat you like royalty, of course. His job pays well, but he's a somewhat frugal person by nature, so he has plenty of savings lying around. Whatever you wanted, he'd get you.

As long as you stayed safe, he couldn't ask for anything more. Even if you didn't love him, as long as your smile could be protected, that would be enough.

He's in the middle of researching what kind of restraints would cause the least damage and irritation to your skin when he realises what a grave mistake he was about to make.

'If the world is this awful, wouldn't it be better to have never experienced it at all?'

What if...

What if you started feeling that way, too?

What if, in trying to protect your smile, he ends up being the one to take it away?

He could offer you all the material things in the world, but if it comes at the price of your freedom, it might still not make you happy. After all, it was the same for him.

If money didn't make him happy, why would you be different?

Sorcery sucks. Corporate sucks. Japan sucks.

Nanami is worse.

He doesn't deserve you. It's with this thought in mind that he begins to avoid you. He refuses to meet your gaze, leaves the room when you enter, and declines all missions that involve your presence.

He feels like he's going crazy. Separation has made him sloppy and reckless. He comes home with more injuries, and a part of him thinks he deserves it.

Bags begin to form under his eyes as two weeks go by without the haven of your presence. He sees you everywhere now. The girl across the street is dressed in a substyle you like. The model in that magazine has your eyes. The cafe down the block is having a special on your coffee order.

"Nanamin, why're you avoiding [Last] all of a sudden? They do something to you?" Nanami scoffs at the remark but doesn't answer. He turns to leave but stops when Gojo continues. "Y'know, they actually came cryin' to me about it. Said they had no idea why you suddenly started treatin' 'em like they've got the plague." Nanami turns to look at Gojo, who's fiddling with his blindfold. "You should make up with them soon. Can't leave our cute little assistant supervisor feeling so down, you know?"

Nanami hates to admit it, but Gojo might be right.

'What if, in trying to protect your smile, he ends up being the one to take it away?'

Fuck. He can't do anything right.

He really doesn't deserve you, but what can he do? If he leaves, you won't smile anymore, but if he stays, you'll be smiling at a monster.

But what can he do? He'd do anything to protect that smile.

Even if it means hiding his fangs.

Toji Fushiguro

Toji is a man who takes what he wants and doesn't care if he has to get his hands dirty in order to take it.

Naturally, this applies to you as well.

It's strange, he's never wanted someone as badly as he wants you. Not his past flings, not even his late wife.

Toji is no stranger to romance. He was married, after all. He knows love. It's a familiar feeling.

That's why he's inclined to believe that what he feels for you isn't love. No, what he feels for you is far too primal to be love. It's rough and all-consuming. It's nothing like the soothing feeling he had around his wife.

Love wraps around one's heart like a warm blanket. This wraps around his heart like a python.

But if it's not love, what is it?

Actually, scratch that. It doesn't matter.

Whatever it is, it's some form of desire. And if he desires something, then all he has to do is take it.

Yes, it's better to keep these kinds of things simple rather than getting tied up in technicalities.

There is a problem, however. He'd like nothing more than to just lock you up and keep you for himself, but with his somewhat unstable income and his habit of bouncing around from place to place, that isn't exactly feasible.

Ah, what to do...?

He could settle down or stop spending his money as soon as he earns it, but where's the fun in that?

No, rather than try to adapt to your lifestyle, he'd much rather force you to adapt to his. Still, he supposes some sacrifices will be necessary, as his lifestyle is currently only fit for one.

You'll have to quit your job since you'll be moving around from place to place alongside him, but he'll just take on some more jobs to cover the extra cost; it's no big deal.

He proposes the idea to you so matter-of-factly that it's almost as if he believes you to have already agreed to the plan beforehand. In reality, this is your first time hearing of such a thing, and you're so stunned that you momentarily lose your voice.

You've known this man for two, no, maybe three weeks, and yet he's asking you to drop everything and come overseas with him? You're not even friends! He's just a regular at the cafe you're employed with.

It dawns on you that he must be joking, so you chuckle awkwardly and avert your gaze. Perhaps you simply haven't known him long enough to gauge his sense of humour. You feel a little embarrassed for nearly having taken him so seriously.

Then, he shows you the plane tickets.

Bewildered, you end up being more blunt than you perhaps meant to: "I'm not going," you say, pushing his tickets back to him.

"Sweetheart," he says dryly. "I'm not asking." You shoot him a strained, confused smile, which quickly morphs into a more genuine one as the door chimes.

To think you'd ever be happy to serve a customer. It's a foreign sentiment, but if it means an end to this strange interaction, you'd happily serve a hundred---no, maybe even a thousand customers.

You take their order and get to making their drink, shooting quick glances at the man---Toji, you think---from behind the bar.

He hasn't taken his eyes off of you.

It's days like this that you wish the company wasn't so stingy about hiring more than one person for shifts. You're about to clock out, and if that man is going to stay until closing, you'd really like to have a coworker walk you back to your car.

It's twenty minutes until closing when Toji finally leaves. You let out an unconscious sigh of relief, feeling your shoulders relax. That was weird, but you shouldn't have to see him again, right? He's going overseas tomorrow, after all.

Yeah, you won't see him again. Thank goodness.

It's with that thought in mind that you flip the "We're open!" sign to its side and lock the doors. It's only 6 PM, but the fall season means it's already dark. You shiver from a cool breeze as you make your way towards your car at last.

Huh. Flat tire.

Ryomen Sukuna

Those who know of Sukuna will inevitably feel sorry for anyone who happens to catch his gaze. Sorcerer or not, none will ever possess even a fraction of the strength he carries, and for someone like Sukuna, that means you're no better than a bug to be trampled on.

What a poor, pitiful thing you are. You must be treated more like a pet than a person. A plaything for him to toy with, to discard once you've ceased to entertain.

However, this interpretation couldn't be more wrong.

What others fail to realise is that Sukuna would never waste his time on someone he doesn't consider his equal. Weak as you may be, there's something about you that seems different in his eyes.

Like a precious gem left unpolished, there's a certain allure to you that only a trained eye could see, and he'll be damned if he lets anyone else stake a claim on you first.

No, he'll be the one to bring out your true potential.

Sukuna has never met someone worthy of being his companion. This has never bothered him, however. Loneliness was not something he was familiar with. There are those who have tried, of course, to prove their worth, to stand by his side, but none have ever moved him.

None until you, that is.

The funny thing is that you don't even try to win his attention. You never once asked for his gaze to land upon you. And yet, he can't bring himself to look away.

Sukuna doesn't know what to do with you. You make him feel things he's never felt before.

Is this weakness? Is it love?

Is there a difference between the two at all?

Should he kill you? Should he keep you?

What can he do to make these feelings go away? What can he do to ensure they never go away?

In exchange for not pillaging your homeland, the townspeople offer you up as a sacrifice. It was Uraume's idea.

At midnight, you're dragged out of the comfort of your home and tied to a stake, where you stay for hours. By dawn, you've worn yourself out with struggle, dried blood sticking to your hands and the ropes around your wrists, when a white-haired stranger comes to collect you.

The stranger undoes your bindings, but only the ones keeping you bound to the pole. You're dragged along like a dog on a leash for countless hours until you eventually arrive at the largest estate you've ever seen in your life. It's midday when you're untied and allowed to bathe. The warm water releases all the tension from your aching muscles, and as you bathe, the white-haired fellow replaces the garments you arrived in with robes made of fine silk.

The stranger's name is Uraume, they tell you. They'll be taking care of you until their master is ready to meet with you.

"What happens after that?" you ask tentatively.

Uruame flashes you a smile that refuses to answer.

Before you know it, a full week has passed you by. You're still yet to see this so-called master, but Uraume tells you not to worry. After all, the master has already seen you lots of times, they say.

The thought of being watched in secret sends a shiver down your spine.

Though the prison is large, you're confined to only one wing of the estate, and after a week of having nothing to do but wander, you have the entire layout memorized. Bored and unattended, you decide to venture out into the unknown past the garden's gates. There, you come face-to-face with the largest man you've ever laid eyes upon.

A hulking figure with four arms and fiery pink hair turns to you, and in an instant, you fall to the ground, only vaguely aware of the blood pooling around you and the pain across your chest.

In truth, Sukuna had tried to kill you, but his technique missed your vitals. It takes him a moment of watching your blood ooze out of the open wound to realize he did it on purpose. Before he even realizes it, he's picked you up in his lower arms and applied reverse cursed technique to your injury. You've lost consciousness, and your pulse is weak, but you aren't dead. Relief floods through Sukuna's veins as he listens to your soft breathing.

From that day on, you're never to leave his side unless absolutely necessary. From that day on, Sukuna has someone worthy of standing by his side, not as a servant, nor a pet, but as a companion. From that day on, Sukuna has a lover.

Whether you like it or not.

Mahito

As a curse born from the hatred and fear humans feel towards their own kind, Mahito relishes humanity's anguish and despair. He kills without a second thought, not caring who he hurts or who gets swept up into his path of mass destruction.

So why is it that this particular human sways him so? Why is it that he thinks your soul looks pretty, just the way it is? Why does he want to touch you but not to warp you beyond repair?

Why does he want you to look at him? Why does he want to scoop your eyes out of your sockets so that you can never look away?

To be a curse is to always follow your own desires, no matter how contradictory or inconsistent---that's the motto that Mahito lives by.

So, of course, this philosophy applies to you as well.

It doesn't make sense, and he doesn't understand it. But that doesn't matter to him. Why would it? He's a curse, and curses take what they want. What he wants is you, so, of course, he has to take you, too.

Mahito doesn't spend long watching you before he makes his move. First, he has to check if you can even see curses to begin with. If you can, that'll make things easier. But if you can't...well, that'll be fun too.

He bumps into you at the train station around 2 AM. It was a late night at work, and you're now dead on your feet. There's no one around, so it's the perfect time for him to test you. He taps your shoulder with a smile.

If you don't react, he starts feeling you up, talking aloud about how much he wants you as his hands roam your body.

"Mm, you're so weak," he says, palm on your stomach. "Look at you, all unguarded. If I wanted to, I could take your soul and just—" he squeezes the flesh on your abdomen. "—until you go splat! Hmm, but I don't really want to do that. I wonder why?" His hand trails down to your hips, brushing past—but not quite landing on—your private areas.

"It's weird, isn't it? You can't even see me. You don't even know I exist. But I know you exist." He grabs your hand, interlocking your fingers together. "Humans usually wear rings when they're married, right? I wonder why you don't have one? You're such a catch," he giggles. "Ah, well, I guess it's better for me. Less work, y'know?Though, I would have liked to see the look on your face, coming home to dear, sweet hubby, all mangled up in your living room. I wouldn't even bother transfiguring him. No, I'd want you to see his face clearly, all contorted in pain with his guts splayed out all over the floor."

He follows you home. You still can't see him, but you at least seem a little aware of his presence, with the way you keep glancing over your shoulder, randomly picking up the pace and taking more turns than necessary.

How fascinating! You can't see him, and yet you can sense him? He's swooning already.

"Don't worry, [First]," he says, arms around your shoulders as you fumble with your keys. "You'll be able to see me soon. And after that, you're never getting rid of me."

If you do react, however, he holds himself back, opting to strike up a lighthearted conversation with you instead.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing here all alone?" He asks. "Don't you know the subway is dangerous at night?" You visibly bristle, clearly on guard. He grins.

"Do you need something?" You ask, clutching your bag to your chest and stepping back. His grin widens, easily closing the distance you've just created.

"You're lonely, aren't you? All you do is work; you don't even have any friends! It's kind of pathetic, really. That's okay, though, I like you anyway. I might be the only one."

"What do you---"

"I could help you, you know. Ease your loneliness, maybe?" He's touching you now. Nothing outright inappropriate, but you could smell his intentions from a mile away.

"No thanks," you say. The train stops, and you hurry off the platform. Fortunately, the stranger doesn't get off with you. He waves at you as the doors close, and you run all the way home.

Finally feeling safe, you don't bother to do anything more than kick off your shoes before collapsing on your bed. It creaks under your weight, then creaks again. You freeze, your eyes shooting open.

"Heya," the stranger says. "Fancy seeing you again."

Choso Kamo

If you were to describe him in one word, 'inexperienced' may be your best bet.

Though it's true that he has 'lived' for over one hundred and fifty years, he spent most of that time as a cursed womb, unable to truly experience the outside world for himself. Even after being incarnated and absorbing the memories of his host, Choso finds himself unable to relate to any of his body's experiences. He knows what love is and what lovers do, but only from a technical standpoint. To actually experience it is something he's never even dreamed of doing.

So, of course, when he starts feeling these things for you, he's unable to properly put a label on them. At first, he thinks he's sick, which isn't unreasonable, considering his rather long list of symptoms (fever, shakes, sweats, heart palpitations, and clouded mind, he notes dutifully).

However, that idea is quickly shut down. Being a cursed womb death painting, it's highly unlikely that he even can get sick; plus, his symptoms only seem to surface when you're around (or when he's thinking of you, which, admittedly, is often).

Did you curse him? No, you don't have a technique like that.

Then, what...?

It takes him a somewhat embarrassingly long time for him to realise the truth behind his feelings. It isn't until after he catches himself staring at your lips and thinking about how soft they'd feel against his that he concludes he likes you.

So, he's figured it out. Now what...?

Choso searches through his host's memories in an attempt to figure out how to woo you. Unfortunately for him, his host was a frat boy with commitment issues who knew more about one-night stands than how to build the foundations for an actual relationship.

So, Choso consults Yuki Tsukimo, who he, with his very limited circle of friends, considers to be an expert.

As expected, Yuki is ecstatic at the news that Choso has found his type. Immediately, she's giving an impromptu lecture on the ways of the heart.

"First, you have to figure out their type," she says, wagging a finger. "If it's a match, you're all good. If not, you either need to give up or double down."

Through Yuki's mentoring, Choso learned the general rules for signalling romantic interest. Flowers, chocolates, walks in the park, walks on the beach—a lot of walking in general, actually—candlelit dinner, pick-up lines—he's got it all memorized.

The problem is that his throat gets dry, and his knees lock up when he so much as thinks about talking to you.

So he takes to following you with his eyes instead.

"It's just until I gather the courage to talk to them," he tells himself. "I'll stop once I figure out their type."

Right, if he can't ask you about your interests, he'll just have to observe them instead.

So, he watches you. All the time. Eventually, he all but forgets about his previous plan of it being a temporary habit.

It's just so...addicting. Watching you go about your day like normal. Completely unaware of his presence in the shadows.

He learns about your hobbies, your interests, what kind of shows you like, your favourite foods, whether you still keep stuffed animals in your room, and more. He has a mental folder of all your likes and dislikes. And while there are some things he’s not able to learn, some places he’s not able to follow, it’s enough. Just knowing this much is perfect.

He doesn't do anything. He doesn't plan to, either. He’s content with just watching. It's comfortable like this. He doesn't want anything to change. So, he forgets about stopping, and instead sinks even deeper into his newfound obsession.

If he had it his way, things would stay like this forever. Him, never confessing, and you, never knowing. But, unfortunately, fate had other plans in mind.

It was 10:15 AM, and you were at a local coffee shop by yourself when the barista handed you their number with your receipt. You shyly accepted, and just a day later, the two of you had plans for a date the next week.

Unfortunately, your 'date' canceled last minute and blocked you with no explanation.

It's a good thing, then, that your good friend Choso just so happened to bump into you, lending you his shoulder to cry on.

Well, there's no reason to waste a good dinner reservation, right?

You never do go back to that cafe, but if you did, you'd find the barista missing from the register.

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bunni-v1 · 1 month ago

Note

how do you think lighter would handle the reader after learning it is going to be their first time aka a virgin reader x lighter

Lighter and Virgin!Reader

🍓Yayay! I wanted to really take my time to write this one, so sorry that I didn't get it out super quick. Wrote it while listening to Christmas music btw, probably gonna write smth smutty for Christmas now. I've never written full-on smut outside of an RP setting so... apolocheese if this is cringe. You can throw tomatoes at me, I will eat them like the rodent I am.

Minors DNI

TW: NSFW; First time!; sickeningly sweet lighter; grammar errors probably lol (I promise I edit my stuff).

Info: Lighter x Reader; Nsfw; Fluffy; no pronouns but reader is fem bodied

Lighter is, and always has been, a rather simple man. While he loves you and respects you more than anything in the world, he too has thoughts that any man might have. It was only natural that he found you... mmm... titillating. You were his partner after all, and you were very good-looking if you asked him.

So many times he's found you on his lap, or beneath him whichever comes easiest at the time, drowning in your sweet lips. His hands wandered over your clothed sides, desperate for a taste of the real thing. He was addicted to you, and sweet candies couldn't placate him this time. It was heavenly having you in his grasp, so very close to everything he'd been dreaming about.

The only issue was that you always seemed to have some excuse to push him away. He'd fisted his cock one too many times alone in his room after another failed encounter, and he just didn't get it. You always seemed so eager, so pliant, right up until he slid his hands below your shirt.

The second his fingers made contact with the soft, oh-so-tempting skin there you would jump like he'd burned you. Then you'd push his eager hands down and come up with some lame reason to leave. He understood that maybe you weren't ready, that was okay, but didn't you feel safe enough to tell him? No, surely something else was going on. He could tell, there was something else that was holding you back, and he was going to figure it out.

Tonight would be the perfect chance to do just that. The girls were busy doing their own thing at the bar, leaving him with all the free time in the world to be alone with you. As usual, he had you on his lap, mouths working against each other. His tongue pressed into yours, happily exploring its space as he swallowed up your whimpers and whines.

Fingers press into your thighs like a vice, desperate for all the skin they can get their hands on. As you wind your fingers into his hair, he takes it as his sign to slide his hands up to your hips, slowly pressing you down into him. You jolt a little in his grasp, drawing a low chuckle from the back of his throat. So cute.

You pull back from him, a thin string of saliva keeping you connected, eyes wide and face flushed. Your chest heaves with effort, and your hair is an absolute disaster. It makes his cock twitch in his jeans, another gasp falling from your pretty swollen lips at the sensation.

"Lighter..." You say breathlessly, and he knows its meant to be a scolding remark, but he just finds it too cute.

He cocks his head to the side, "What? Too much to handle?"

You give him an eye roll that is all too endearing, trying and failing to straighten out your messy hair, "It's getting late, I should probably head to mine soon."

His smile falls from his face, disappointed again, like clockwork. He can't even find it in himself to hide it anymore, which makes you frown too. You press a kiss on his cheek, apologetically, "What's wrong? Why is my champion pouting?"

The pet name is almost enough to get him to forget everything, but then you shift on his lap a little and his hard-on screams at him to at least get some kind of answer. So he sighs, patting the meat of your thigh almost sadly, "Why do you always do that?"

You raise an eyebrow, which he mirrors. You know better than to play dumb, Lighter can see right through the schtick. Your demeanor cracks first, and you seem genuinely nervous as you respond, "I don't know..."

"Listen, baby. If you're not ready all you gotta do is tell me--" He tries to soothe you, because he doesn't want you to be upset. There was no shame in just not being ready, but you cut him off before he can finish his reassurances.

"No, it's not-" A grumble leaves your chest, "I want to, I really do I just... I get nervous."

It's his turn to raise an eyebrow at you, sunglasses slanting down his nose as he tilts his head curiously, "What's there to be nervous about...?"

You fluster, looking anywhere your eyes can find that wasn't him. You were awfully cute when you were embarrassed, but he couldn't let himself get distracted. With the gentlest touch to your chin, he refocuses your attention on him. A reassuring smile on his face, urging you without words to tell him what was wrong.

Some kind of war goes on behind your pretty little eyes, and he has to tap your lip with his thumb to center you again. You pout against the finger, and it takes everything in him not to push it up and into your mouth. Finally, after what seemed like ages of waiting, you give another sigh. "I'm... a virgin."

"Oh," he says, automated like a robot. It takes his brain a moment to click the gears together, but once they do, he nods. Oh. That makes so much sense.

"I'm sorry," you mumble, pressing off his chest to get up, but he tugs you back into his lap. Giving you a reassuring squeeze, praying to whatever there was out there for you to give him a moment to collect his thoughts.

It really isn't a big deal to him, not at all. He'd taken people's virginity before - former partners he doesn't even remember the names of - but you. Getting to be your first? It felt like the world had both blessed and cursed him at the same time. You didn't have a good frame of reference, which was great. He'd be the best partner you've had. Yet... he'd also be the only partner you've had, and that was a lot of pressure to put on a guy like him.

"Lighter?" You squeak out, face all nervous and cute in a way that just drives him wild.

A huff leaves him before he can think better of it, causing you to frown a little. His arms wrap around your middle, tugging you closer to him, "That's all? Here you had me thinking you weren't attracted to me all of a sudden."

The response takes you off guard, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. Had you genuinely thought that would be a turn-off for him? What do you take him for, some prude? "I- I mean, you know... I don't have any experience, and I figured since... since you had it would just-"

He hushes you, trying his best not to laugh at how ridiculous the thought is. Most guys would leap to be in his shoes, it was a loser's wet dream to take some innocent angel like you and ruin you. Not Lighter, though. Despite how many times he'd fucked his hand thinking about your pretty little body, he would make sure your first time was perfect. He really needed it to be perfect.

"I don't care about that, baby." There's a teasing lilt in his tone that sends shockwaves down your spine, "I just want you to be happy."

It was your turn to be dumbfounded, staring at him like he had spoken forbidden texts in tongues you didn't understand. He tilts your head with the hand still holding your chin, and it's incredibly sexy the way his sunglasses dip a little so you can see the genuineness in his eyes.

"Would it make you happy if I took your virginity?" You give a slow, dumb nod, and he presses closer, "Do you wanna try tonight?"

Lighter watches with thinly veiled amusement as the pieces slip into place for you, face so warm he could feel it at this distance. You seem to have stalled a bit, so he gives you an award-winning smile and taps your lips to remind you to use them.

"Yes. Please." You blurt out, and it's so incredibly unsexy and awkward, but he still bites his lip like you were sex incarnate.

He gives you all but three seconds to admire the (so, so incredibly hot) look on his face before he's picking you up with no effort, hands wrapped under the swell of your ass like they were made to be there. You cling to his shoulders like a lifeline, and his cock strains in his stupidly tight jeans as he imagines you doing so without the jacket between your skin.

"Where are we going?" You ask, voice uneasy.

He smirks at you, "You didn't seriously think I was gonna let your first time be on some dingy outdoor couch, did you?"

You're silent all the way to his quarters after that, warm face buried into the crook of his shoulder. He can feel how nervous you are in the shaky breaths you let puff out onto his neck. He gives your butt a reassuring pat, which only makes you burrow yourself further into his neck.

He doesn't get to see your face again until he carefully lies you on his bed, and he's glad for it too. The nervous shimmer in your eyes would've been enough for him to bend you over any surface in a heartbeat. Your teeth nibble awkwardly on your swollen bottom lip, and he resists the urge to take it in between his own, instead busying his hands with shrugging off his jacket so he doesn't do exactly that.

You look near terrified when he climbs on top of you, so leans down to kiss your forehead, and in the gentlest voice he can muster whispers, "We'll go slow, but we gotta take our clothes off if we wanna do anything, m'kay?"

You give him a slow nod, slowly drifting your eyes down to his tight-fitting t-shirt. Once you seem to calm a little, he leans down and starts right where you left off. Capturing your lips in a soft kiss, slowly easing back into the passion from earlier. His hips press into yours, but they remain still against your heat. He would let you decide when you were ready for that again.

His hands eagerly slid around your thighs, squeezing the fat between his fingers and sighing as they sank against his touch. Always so malleable, it was addictive, but he couldn't get ahead of himself. This was all about you, after all.

Slowly, he inched his digits up to the edge of your shirt, pooling the fabric between them. You give a little jolt, pressing against his crotch a little harder than he expected drawing a hiss from between his teeth. He rubs his nose against yours, "Can we get rid of your shirt?"

Another slow, unsure nod, and he's easing you up just enough that he can tug the offending fabric up and out of the way. (No bra, thank god, he sucks at removing them.) The sight it reveals better than Lighter could've begun to imagine. Your chest rises and falls with your breath, mesmerizing him. You give him an unsure smile, nodding your head along with it, and he thinks he might genuinely die tonight.

He does not suddenly go into cardiac arrest, so instead his hands glide over your stomach, and it's everything he dreamed of and more. The skin is like heaven beneath his calloused fingertips, and the light whimpers and whines you give him are honey in his ears. You shift with every touch, jerking away and then easing into his touch. Unsure, but oh so willing and wanting.

He maps out each inch of your skin like he might lose his way exploring it, tracing all the way to the final destination of your chest. Your nipples are hard already in combination with his touching and the cold air around you. He gives you one last look, one last chance to tell him no, and then he runs his thumb over the tops of them.

The sound you make is delicious, something between a moan and a strangled choking noise -- almost confused at the pleasure you are feeling. He rolls them in his fingers a few times, watching your face intently as he does so. Your confused moans melt into sighs of contentment, so he decides to try his luck with his mouth. With your head rolled back, he ensures you can feel his breath before he presses his tongue to your skin.

You shoot up, gasping in surprise, but you don't make any move to push him away. No, instead you rake your fingers through his hair, pushing his shaggy bangs back so you can really look at him. Those emerald eyes lock with yours, making a show of slowly kissing his way back up to your chest. Along the contours of your collarbones, between the valley of your breasts, and finally right down to your perky bud.

Lighter takes a moment to really appreciate just how nice it looks up close, rather than through the fabric of your tank tops. Just the perfect size for sucking on, he thinks right before he engulfs the needy thing in his mouth. You throw your head back, chest hefting with your cry of "Fuck, Lighter."

He hums, only making it so much worse for you, the vibrations sending a shock through your body that makes you twist your hips just right. He takes his sweet time with your breasts, alternating between the two until you're a messy puddle below him. He hadn't even gotten past the waistband of your pants yet, and you were already so far gone. It was an ego booster, to say the least.

His free hand draws its way down your stomach, stopping at the edge of your pants. They dance their way along your abdomen, just itching to be let in, but not willing to disrespect your boundaries. Lucky for him, they don't have to wait long, and your own join him and carefully aid him in their removal.

It's then that he finally gives your chest a break, pulling back to tug your pants down your legs. Giving himself the time to finally admire you. He'd left... more than a few purple marks along your chest, all of which he thinks look incredibly nice in the light of the moon. His eyes trace their way down your stomach, just like his hands had, and land on the underwear you still had on.

They weren't particularly cutesy or sexy, but on you, it was the hottest thing he'd seen in years. They had a sizable wet spot in the middle, right where he wanted- no, needed to be. The only thing standing between him and tasting you was that thin piece of fabric.

A tug at the hem of his shirt draws him out of his daze, meeting eyes with your cute, nervous ones. It takes him a second to realize you wanted his shirt off, but once he gets the message, he wastes no time in shrugging it to the ground. Following it with his pants, leaving him in his boxers.

Your eyes trace their way along his figure, over his shoulders, across his stomach, and settle shyly on the outline of his dick. It only occurs to him then that you might find him just as attractive as he finds you. With eyes blown wide and distracted as you drink him all in, it's hard to avoid how much you're admiring the view right now.

He has the decency to act embarrassed, despite how he was practically drooling all over you just a few moments ago. He shivers when you reach up and trace your fingers over a scar, breath catching in his throat. "They're so pretty," you mutter, completely unaware that you had said that out loud. It could honestly make him cry. The way you look at him like he's some kind of art piece. So much love and admiration in your eyes. He can't handle it for long, even though you seem to be content just admiring his scars.

He grabs your hand, intertwining your fingers together as he presses you back into the mattress. You let out a huff as he pressed his forehead to yours, pouting now that he had interrupted your show. He gives you a few apologetic kisses, smiling at your pouting.

"Are you sure you wanna keep going, we can stop now if you want," he whispers, soft and gentle.

You nod, confident this time, "I'm ready. I wanna do this with you, Lighter. Not anyone else."

That makes his heart swell, sending the feeling right down to his dick, throbbing and reminding him he needs to prepare you. He wasn't usually one to brag, but he knew he was big, and it would be a tough take for your first time. If he wanted you to enjoy it, he'd have to take care to loosen you up first.

"Okay," he hums, reaching over to grab the lube and condoms from his nightstand, setting them nearby for when he needs it, "I'm gonna have to loosen you up first, and it's gonna hurt. You sure you can take it?"

He feels your muscles contract as he trails gentle, feather-light pecks along the edge of your underwear. "You'll take care of me, just like you always do..." Ah, you were gonna be the death of him tonight, he just knows it.

He hooks his fingers over the sides of your underwear, carefully tugging them down your legs like unwrapping a present he didn't want to ruin. What a gift he received as he threw the useless fabric to the floor, your pretty little cunt already drooling for him.

"God..." He mutters out, enchanted at the very sight. He adjusts his position one last time, making sure he is perfectly positioned in front of your gorgeous pussy. The view is something straight out of a porno, Lighter's messy hair shadowing his eyes as they stare into your very being, big hands gripping at your thighs -- like he was readying himself to consume you whole.

"You ready, baby?" He asks one last time, though it's painfully hard to do so now that he was literally right where he wanted to be, "Cause if you're not you better say so now, I don't think I could stop myself once I start, angel."

You give him the slowest nod known to man, followed by a timid little 'yes' and he's gone. His strong arms wrap under and rest atop your thighs, carefully pulling your folds apart to reveal the shining pearl he'd been dreaming of. Involuntarily he huffs out a hot breath, causing you to squirm a little in his grasp, and then he leans down and kisses your clit.

You jolt at the new sensation, another awkward breathy moan leaving your lips. He pulls back to give you a second, watching your expressions and committing them all to mind, and then he licks his lips and leans down for another wet kiss against your neglected bud. Then another, and another, and another, and at some point his tongue joins the barrage but you have no idea when. Too caught up in how good he's making you feel. So much better than your own fingers.

Lighter is in heaven, completely surrounded by nothing but you. Your little sighs, your skin, your sweet smell, and of course your juices dripping down his chin. You tasted so amazing, better than all the candies he ate. He swallowed you like a man starved, arguably more desperate for your pleasure than you were. Your little whines of his name only fueled him to suck on the little bud like a sweet treat, humming at the taste.

He wondered how many more moans he could get out of you if he added a finger... He had to stretch you out anyway, seems like now was better a time than any. One hand unwound itself from under your leg, snaking along the sheets right up under your bum.

Without taking his eyes or mouth off you he gently traces around your hole with his middle and index. Your hips grind up into his mouth, and he feels the way you clench against his fingertips. A smile grows on his face, god you were adorable, weren't you? He presses the tip of his finger into your heat, and you squeeze around it sucking him in like nothing.

"Shit..." He groans against you, the grumble going right through your nerves drawing a delicious moan out of you. He slowly pumps his finger at the same pace as his tongue, when it rolls across your clit, the finger presses up into you again. The white, hot pleasure that curls up your spine and through your body makes you arch your back. If he kept it up like this, you would cum faster than you ever had before.

Unfortunately, he pulls back and you whine like a needy child. He presses his thumb to your clit instead of his mouth as compensation, rolling in sweet little circles. Not nearly as pleasurable, but still enough to make your head spin, especially when you watch him press his cheek to your thigh to watch his own ministrations.

He is mesmerized by the way your hips jerk into his touch, his finger disappearing and reappearing over and over awfully stimulating for his relatively blank mind. His eyes lazily roll up to yours, smirking when he sees you watching him with lidded ones. "You like it, baby?"

You mutter an incoherent sound of approval, head falling back to the pillows, but that doesn't do it for him. He grabs your face with his free hand, focusing your expression on him yet again. As he does so, he eases a second finger in and you let out the most sinful moan of his name he's ever heard. He presses a kiss against your inner thigh, encouraging you to keep making those pretty noises.

He keeps on watching you, eyes having trouble focusing on both your face and your messy cunt. They're both such a good show, how could he be expected to pick which one was better. All the while he was sucking marks into your inner thigh, adding to the growing coil below your naval.

It was all too much for your poor little untouched body. His eyes watching you so carefully, the sting of his teeth on your thighs, his calloused thumb rubbing delightfully perfect circles against your swollen clit. You couldn't even think about anything other than how nice his fingers felt with circular motions right against that spot that your fingers could never reach.

"Lighter..." Your voice is so much more airy than you thought it would be, "I'm-"

He hums, understanding you without you needing to say anything at all. He removes himself from your thigh, climbing over to press his forehead against yours without stopping his movements. He wanted to see the face you made when you cum clearly. Wanted to have it etched into every corner of his brain so he could never dream of forgetting it.

"Go on then, I've got you," He encourages, and that's all it takes for the tight ball in your stomach to burst, and the flood of pleasure to take its place. You spasm around his fingers, juices coating them and dripping down his wrist. It's a beautiful thing to Lighter, watching the way your face scrunches up and then melts into pure pleasure. That was a face he could never forget, not in a million lifetimes.

He keeps his fingers moving at a slow and steady pace, easing you back down from your high. Only pull them out when you stop clenching around them, sucking your essence clean from them with a groan of satisfaction. "Delicious," He whispers, easing you back into the sheets, limbs soft and limp with the pleasant aftershocks of your orgasm.

Lighter is still there above you, watching with all the admiration in the world as your gaze refocuses on him. It's an infectious look that you subconsciously mirror, cradling his face in the palm of your hand.

"Feel good?" He asks, playing with a loose strand of your hair.

You nod, pressing a kiss to his nose, "Wonderful, actually. I don't know what I was so scared of."

He chuckles deep and warmly from the back of his throat, "I'm glad."

He presses gentle kisses across your cheek, nosing along your jaw and following with soft presses into the sensitive skin. You scratch his scalp appreciatively, more than happy to accept the affections.

"You wanna call it there?" He murmurs against your throat, hot breath leaving goosebumps in its wake, "Don't wanna push you too far."

You shake your head, frowning down at him, "No, no. I wanna keep going. It's not fair of me to leave you like... that." You gesture to his still rock-hard dick pressed against your thigh.

He comes back up to look at you, caressing your face with utmost care, "Don't worry about me, I can live without getting off."

"I know," you giggle, and it's such a sweet sound to him, "I want to, Lighter. I want you. Please indulge me just a little longer?"

He really can't argue with that, not with how you're smiling at him. "Alright," He sits up, grabs the condoms, and rips the box open with practiced ease, "but it's not gonna feel good to start."

"I know," You answer, sitting up to watch him slide his boxers down. His cock springs out, tip an angry red and bleeding precum down the shaft. It was an incredibly hot sight to see him slide the condom over himself, his muscles flexing from the much-needed attention. "I definitely know."

He smirks, settling between your legs again as he picks up the lube this time. "Enjoying the view?"

"Too much," you respond, enraptured as he tugs along his member a few times, shuddering at the sensation.

He takes the time to adjust you beneath him, tugging your hips up in an angled position. The manhandling is surprisingly hot, and your heart skips a beat when he grabs at your thigh more roughly than you're used to.

"I hope I can keep you satisfied," he muses, lining himself up with your pussy.

He runs the tip against your clit a few times, spreading a mixture of lube and your cum around, hissing to himself at the feeling. He wasn't even inside and he was already needing more of you, god what did you do to him?

He presses the tip against your weeping hole, hot and desperate against him. It fluttered in anticipation, feeling far too empty knowing what his fingers felt like. It had you praying to know what his cock felt like fully pressed inside. Surely it would fill you up even better.

His emerald green eyes come down to stare into yours, an intensity you've only ever seen from him in fights burning behind them. "Ready?"

You take a deep breath and then nod as assuredly as you can. You had no idea what you were getting into, but as the tip slowly sunk into you, you felt lightheaded. The sting was deep, drawing a hiss of pain out of you, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. He wasn't lying when he said it would hurt, but this was way worse than you expected.

He leans down, locking his fingers with yours and pressing loving kisses along your cheeks. His hair tickles your skin and it does wonders in distracting you from the burn of his stretching you. That was just the tip. If you couldn't handle that, how could you take the rest of him?

Lighter doesn't let you worry about it, rubbing his thumbs into your hips. Muttering sweet nothings into your sweaty skin, worshipping you like a god. Like you were his whole world. In his pleasure-fueled haze, that was more truth than it was fiction.

For every stinging inch, Lighter muttered praises and peppered a thousand more kisses across your burning skin. This was the most full you'd ever felt, and the more he pushed inside the more you wanted. He stuffed himself in to the hilt, stopping fully when his hips were pressed flush against yours. You shuddered at the sensation of his tip kissing your cervix. When he said he was big he meant it, and it was everything you wanted and more.

His rough hands slide gently along your sides, coaxing you to just look at him. Your glazed eyes slide over to his face, and you smile dumbly at his expression. His face is red, brows furrowed in concentrated effort and eyes clouded in lust. "You okay? Still hurt?"

You shake your head, chest rising and falling with more effort than you were used to. "It feels good. I like it."

He swallows hard, adam's apple bobbing in his throat. Fuck, he just can't stand it. You were so tight and warm, sucking him in like he was your last meal. He could feel your pussy clench around him suddenly, and he had to bury his face into your neck to stop himself from moaning out loud.

Who could've imagined a few years without sex would make him so weak. Maybe it was actually just you that made him like this. He couldn't possibly imagine any pussy better than yours, it felt like it was molded perfectly just for him. The thought occurs to him, like a stroke of genius, that this was his pussy and it was molded to him. Now that you let him fuck you once, he could do it again and again and again whenever either of you liked.

He liked that idea a lot more than he probably should, his cock twitching a little at the prospect. You squeeze back and he does moan this time, deep and throaty into your neck. It's quite the sound from such a big guy, making your skin tingle excitedly. You had been the reason for it, after all, it was flattering.

"Lighter?" You say, startling him. He looks up at you from his spot against your shoulder, "Can you move? I'm too full with you just sitting there."

He blinks at you, taking in your words carefully and digesting them. Yeah, you were gonna kill him tonight. You had no fucking clue what you were doing to him.

"Whatever you want," He mumbles out, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek, before slowly pulling out.

You groan out in tandem, the drag of his cock and a squeeze of your walls more pleasurable than you'd imagined. Then he pushes back in at the same pace and you shudder in his arms. He keeps the pace slow and easy, still able to remember that he wanted to be gentle despite how much he wished to be anything but. First time, he echoed in his head, take it easy Lighter.

Each drag of his cock against your plush warm insides has you gasping out, desperate for more and more. He watches you with an intensity to rival his excitement during a fight, taking in each detail with careful consideration. The way your brows scrunch up when he brushes that gummy spot with his tip, and how your teeth tug on your lips, and the way your eyelashes flutter when his hips lay flush into yours.

Lighter never considered himself an artist, but damn if you weren't his greatest masterpiece like this. You open your eyes and finally look at him, and the intensity in his gaze has you shying away into your palms. He can't have that, he wanted to look, so he grabbed your wrists and set them on his shoulders. They curl into the skin, crescent-shaped marks sure to form in the morning.

You still try to evade his gaze, so he follows with his own face, leaning forward. "Don't hide," he coos, his hands moving your hips with his upper body so he's fully leaning over you now, the new position allowing him to not only look at you but hit much deeper than before. "Lemme see yer pretty face."

A wanton moan is ripped from your throat as he picks up his pace, and you finally look at him when he grabs at your chin. His hair is stuck to his sweaty forehead, breathing heavily as he keeps up the new speed he's set. The wild look in his eyes is enough to make you clench and get to watch in real-time the effect it has on him. Swallowing hard as his eyebrows come together in pleasured surprise.

You were making it so, so hard on him, really you were. Each reaction you had made it so much more difficult to keep himself together. When you clench around him again he lets out a sound between a sigh and a squeak. Your fingers are running along the nape of his neck and through his hair, and it's nearly got him choking on air.

You're no better, hardly even coherent as his hips continue pistoning in and out of you at such consistent pacing. The wet slapping of skin on skin is the only thing you can focus on, everything else is too much for your muddled brain to understand.

The hand that isn't keeping your eyes on him comes down to massage your clit again, fingers splayed across your abdomen to feel himself through your skin while his thumb takes care of you. He was close, and he could tell you were too. Your moans getting more and more desperate, and the squeezing you gave him more and more desperate to keep him moving.

He didn't have it in himself to say anything coherent, so instead he settled on kissing you. Sloppy and uncoordinated and more teeth than anything else, but he still kissed you. Swallowing up every moan like a man starved.

His pace grows sloppy as he chases your highs, both of you moaning unabashedly loudly. He would hear from Lucy in the morning, he was sure of it, but that didn't matter too much to him now. Not when he felt you come undone around him. Your whole body tensed, desperate little cunt squeezing him in a vice grip and moans so delicious that he couldn't help but follow your lead.

He gives one last harsh thrust, and then he unloads into the condom. He thinks for a moment that he wishes it wasn't there but focuses instead on sucking at the juncture of your neck. You writhe under him, fingers raking down his back harsh enough to leave red lines in his skin.

It was better than he had expected it to feel, that was for certain. Even as he calmed down and came back to reality, there were little sparks of pleasure ringing through his body. He kissed his way over the marks he'd left on your body, waiting patiently for you to calm down before he pulled out.

Both of you let out sounds of complaint at the loss, but he knew that he couldn't stay inside you forever (no matter how nice that sounded). He smiled warmly down at you, caressing your face with such gentleness it could make you cry. "You alright...?"

You nod, brushing the hair out of his face so you can look at him properly, "This is probably the best I've ever felt in my whole life."

That gets him to laugh, pressing his forehead against yours, "I'm glad I could be of service."

"Did you-" You start, but he doesn't let you finish before he responds.

"Yes. I did enjoy myself, very much, baby." He hums, washing away any insecurities you could've had with ease.

He eases you up into a sitting position with him, holding you there until he is sure you will stay like that by yourself. Then, he stands and digs around his dresser for a towel to wipe you down with. You take the time to admire how nice his ass is out of those skinny jeans, humming to yourself at the sight.

When he rejoins you on the bed, you smirk at him, "Your ass is nice."

"Yeah," he huffs out a laugh, "Yours ain't all that bad either."

You let him do what he needs to, wiping you of sweat and any fluids that might become uncomfortable after a while. Then he does the same for himself, and the show is rather nice. When he finishes cleaning the both of you up, he crawls into bed and pulls you to his chest.

You take your chance to trace over the scars again, admiring just how pretty his marred skin is. He doesn't say a word, and you have the understanding not to make verbal comments now. The warmth of his chest combined with the pleasant ache in your limbs was enough to lull you to sleep.

The last thing you hear is Lighter mumble a quiet, "I love you." Though you don't respond, you know he knows you feel the same way.

#zzz x reader #zenless zone zero #zzz #lighter lorenz #lighter zzz x reader #lighter zzz #lighter x reader #lighter lorenz x reader #bunni's treats 🧁

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auroralwriting · 4 months ago

Text

coffee

spencer reid x fem!reader

spencer always feels better when you make him coffee to cheer him up. auroral writing's fallidays masterlist

word count: 1k

warnings: season 2 spencer, no use of y/n, show-accurate spencer aka he’s a little, sweet nerd, comfort but no angst

Sometimes, having your boyfriend at home was worse than missing him while he was on a case. Spencer would be exhausted from time to time, varying on the case they worked on. It wasn’t easy to see your love so beat down so often. He promised it was just jet lag, but deep down, you knew some of the cases bothered him, too.

Late last night, Spencer arrived back home. Whenever he was gone, you’d stay at his apartment to water his plants and make sure the place was top notch by the time he came home. He had slipped into bed with you while you slept, not wanting to disturb your peace.

When you woke up, your heart fluttered seeing your genius lying next to you. The dark circles around his eyes were more prominent than they usually were. He didn’t even change out of his clothes.

It was clear that his thoughts were heavy, even deep in sleep. You wondered how bad this case was. What always cheered Spencer up was a nice, warm cup of coffee in the morning. So, you decided that's what you'd do; make him a nice, warm cup to make him feel better.

You got up slowly, making sure to take soft steps in order to not wake Spencer up. You opened his dresser drawers and laid him out a tee shirt and some plaid pajama pants so he could get comfortable when he woke up.

Once that was done, you went into his kitchen and turned on his record player, some soft classical music filling the empty room. The tunes help occupy the space as you worked on breakfast.

The coffee pot beeped off when you heard soft creaks from Spencer’s bedroom.

You grabbed his mug, one catered to the way he made his coffee, and carefully walked into the bedroom once more. Spencer’s eyes softened when he looked at you. He rubbed his eyes, giving his iconic soft, goofy smile.

“G’morning, love.” Spencer muttered, softly stretching as he sat up.

Cheeks tinted with red, you sat on the side of the bed with the mug in hand. “Morning, Spence. I made you some coffee, fresh out of the pot.”

Spencer took a sip, a low hum coming from his throat. “Perfect,” he mused.

“Long case?” You asked, brushing a piece of his hair back from his forehead.

“Very much so,” Spencer nodded. He grabbed his glasses from the nightstand and pushed them up the bridge of his nose. “Statistically, ninth percent of victims gone within the first day or two are found safely. Ours had been gone a full week.”

Your heart lurched in your chest, you knew what he meant. “You all tried your best, honey.” You tried to comfort. “Did you catch him?”

“Yeah,” Spencer nodded, a sigh of relief following his next sip of coffee. “This is really good.”

“I made it just the same,” you chuckled.

Spencer gave a small shrug with a hint of a smile on hips lips. “It tasted better when I know it’s to make me feel better.”

“If it helps, I also made blueberry pancakes.” Spencer’s smile grew at your words. “Now, get comfy and come have breakfast with me. I’m starving.”

After a few minutes, Spencer walked out of the room. “You put on Beethoven,” he smiled. You knew that was his favorite composer. Spencer sat down, eagerly taking a bite of the food you prepared for him. “Baby, it’s so good,”

You smiled at his compliment, “I’m glad, Spence.”

“Let me make dinner tonight as a thank you,” Spencer said, swallowing the food in his mouth. “Please?”

No matter how many times you did nice things for him, Spencer always wanted to repay you. That’s one of the many reasons you loved him so much. He was always fair, kind, and truly the most loving man you’d ever met in your life. Your relationship was built off of love, trust, and balance. It was perfection.

“How could I ever say no to that face?” You giggled at the dopey smile he wore.

"How about more breakfast for dinner," Spencer offered, taking a sip from his mug. "I can make us cinnamon rolls, hot chocolate, and maybe today we can go out and get an apple pie, too."

Your face lit up at the thought, "You really do love me, don't you?"

Spencer laughed, "With every bone in my body."

"That coffee really helped your mood, huh?" You put your head on your hand as you stared lovingly at your boyfriend. What a perfect man he was.

"It did," Spencer admitted, "but the fact that you made it and did all of this for me is what really helped."

Once you were both finished eating, you and Spencer snuggled on the couch, a large blanket laying over top of both of your laps. You were both cuddled in the middle, laughing at the tv as you watched Halloweentown. It was the perfect fall day outside, and you both were on your second mugs of coffee.

"Don't we still need to go to the store?" Spencer asked as he played with a strand of your hair.

You softly hummed in reply, "It's noon, we still have time."

"Well, there's still several more Halloweentown movies to watch," Spencer replied with a smile. "At this rate, we'll never go to the store."

"A late midnight snack, then." You decided. "This is too nice to just give up."

Spencer pressed a kiss to your forehead, "I agree. I could go for a big midnight snack."

Even when you went to go to the store, more around seven, you stopped off at the local coffee place to grab a cup from them. They were just about to close, but it was worth it to see the look on Spencer's face.

The last cup of coffee was served at just a little past midnight as the two of you sat on the couch, criss crossed, eating cinnamon rolls and apple pie. Your mugs were still smoking from the heat of the coffee.

Spencer gently grabbed your chin, giving you a warm kiss. You tasted the icing on his lips from the cinnamon rolls.

"Thank you," Spencer said softly. "For today and the coffee."

"I'd do anything for you, Spencer." You replied with a small smile settling on your lips.

#auroral writing's fallidays #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #bau team #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you

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eroticdarling · 1 month ago

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Choso brainrot because I need this man to fuck me out—AHEM! I meant take me out! On a date...

✦ Art credit to rednoki0 on Tumblr

I am a firm believer that Choso can be a sub ninety-nine percent of the time, but when he's extremely horny and can't get what he wants is when you find that one percent.

This can be caused by you teasing him to a certain extent, whether it's in public or during sex. In public, he prefers waiting until you get home so no one won't hear you call out his name from the rough pleasure. Now, in bed, you're always in control, which is why your favorite thing was edging him on. But even though doing this was a guilty pleasure of yours, there was a time when you went a bit over the top.

Whenever you feel like he's about to cum while you're riding him you completely stop. He's blushed out just begging to cum inside you as soft whimpers slip past his lips. You then pepper wet kisses along the sensitive parts of his neck and drown him in praise. His favorite combo.

You kept this cycle going for about a good twenty minutes till he got frustrated. Refusing to give him what he wanted, you wondered how far he could go before giving up. Unfortunately for you, his pent-up frustrations got the better of him already reaching past his max.

When his rough hands grabbed your waist without any warning you were instantly taken aback. This was the first time you saw Choso like this, which is why you were surprised by how easily he picked you up off him to pin you to the bed.

"Fuck (Y/N), You know how to make me like this." He says flipping you over to an ass up face down position before he's balls deep in your pussy.

He knew if you weren't going to give him what he wanted then he had no choice but to get it himself. And that's exactly what he's doing by fucking you at a tempo to make you cock drunk. The way he's gripping your waist while pounding into you just to find his high got you on cloud nine.

The way your body is in sync with his hips, your pussy clenching around him with every hard orgasm you have to the point your sweet juices drip down his cock, even the squelching sounds of your cunt mixing with moans. It's all putting him in a heaven-like state making him go insane.

You'd cry for him to at least slow down but it goes unheard and he'd reply with, "Remember when I begged you to let me cum? You didn't listen to me so why should I?" Hearing this you assume he isn't going to let up until he's done.

Your heated face buried deep into the pillow stained with tears of pleasure. Your legs are on the verge of giving up because of the friction including how many times you've cum already. Not to mention how much lewd noises you're making being overstimulated.

And of course, once Choso finds his orgasm he buries his dick deep in your cunt before filling you up to the brim. When he removes himself from you, he visibly sees the white mixture seeping out of you. His face is filled with amusement, having the thought of how pretty you look in this position.

I also feel like when Choso comes back to his senses after sex he's already apologizing for how rough he was. All because you still somehow seem fucked out. You, on the other hand, thought this side of him was cute and would wrap yourself around his arms.

Even though you're somewhat new to acting dominant Choso still loves your attempts. He was the one who gave you the idea when you found out he was the submissive type. Despite the fact you didn't want a submissive boyfriend, you decided to stay with him and learned how to be dominant.

Since then, you haven't pushed him past his limits unless you were positive you could take him.

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yandere-daydreams · 1 year ago

Text

tw - non/con, gn!reader, somnophilia, oral sex, victim blaming, implied stalking, and obsessive behavior.

Gojo can usually be trusted to do the right thing.

He knows he's not the best guy out there, but if he's given a choice between saving a cat from a tree and pushing a stroller into oncoming traffic, there's a good chance he'll choose the cat. His students might give him a hard time, but he knows better than to take it to heart when Megumi says the only useful thing about his dutiful guardian in his platinum card or Maki claims he could be replaced with a low-level curse and they'd struggle to tell the difference. He's not a saint, sure, but he doesn't entirely miss the mark.

That's why you felt so comfortable tag-along with him on a mission that took you to the other side of the country, why you didn't panic when you found out the higher-ups expected you to share a single (admittedly, still bigger than he'd like for it to be) bed, why you didn't think twice before stripping down to a tank-top and sleeping shorts and passing out - too exhausted to care about sorcerer decorum. Because Gojo can usually be trusted to do the right thing. Gojo can normally, generally, almost always be trusted to do the right thing.

It's just that he can't be trusted to do the right thing right now.

It's not his fault, Gojo reasons as he stares unblinkingly at the mold-stained ceiling, doing his best not to let his eyes drift. He's a hot-blooded man in the prime of his life, and you're... well, you're you - beautiful, smart, oblivious you. It's not his fault that you looked so pretty in the dim light filtering in through cheap curtains, that the stuffy motel room was too hot to justify using the paper-thin bedsheets, that all your tossing and turning meant your shorts were starting to ride up your legs in a way that wanted to make him dig his teeth into your thighs and--

And look at you. With a shaky breath, he sits up and rakes his fingers through his hair. Looking never hurt anyone. That's what he tells himself, at least, as he shifts onto his knees and lets his eyes rake over the length of your body. You'd rolled onto your side since the last time he could bring himself to check - your knees pulled up and your head tucked downward. He watches the gentle rise and fall of your chest for a moment, than another, before letting his attention fall lower - to where the waistband of your shorts had drifted below your hip, leaving a strip of supple flesh just a touch lower than what even the lowest-set of your jeans revealed. Both straps of your tank-top had managed to fall off of your shoulders sometime during the night, and careful not to touch you and cross a line he'd only half-heartedly set for himself, Gojo catches the flimsy fabric of your top between two fingers and tugs it downward, just enough to expose the swell of your chest and draw the material taut. Your nipples are already hard, he notes with just a little too much satisfaction. You wouldn't have been happy if you knew what he was doing, but your body might've been.

He feels his cock twitch, and he's palming it before he can stop himself. Touching himself wouldn't hurt you, either, and he wouldn't leave a mess, not if he could help it, not if he could summon that much self-restraint. Cursing under his breath, he shrugs his sweatpants down to his thighs and spits into his palm before wrapping his fist around his shaft. He's already stiff - had been from the second you started to undress, as hard as he'd tried not to acknowledge it. Biting down on his bottom lip, he pumps his hand over his cock to the tempo over your breathing, letting his mind wander to the space between your thighs. He couldn't, not without waking you up. He couldn't, but..

His attention drifts back to your lips, wet and ever so slightly parted. It wouldn't compare, but it'd have to do.

He positions himself carefully, his knees sinking into the mattress next to your head. Arousal beads at his tip, dripping down his shaft and filling the cramped room with a soft 'click, click, click' as he brings the head of his cock to your mouth, resting it gingerly on the crook of your lips. He does what little he can to swallow down his voice and smother the movement in his hips as your warm breath fans over his cock, as his fist tightens in a weak attempt to imitate how tight your throat would be, if he ever got the chance to fuck it properly.

He's thinking about how hot it would be inside of you, how adoringly your body would welcome him when his self-control snaps, when his hips buck forward and the head of his cock collides with the back of your throat. You gag sharply, your eyes snapping open and find his in an instant, expression a mix of shock and confusion and horror, pure and unadulterated. He wants to draw back. He wants to apologize. He wants to do the right thing.

Instead, he cums. His free hand falls to your head, and he holds you in place while he fucks shallowly into your mouth and rides through his orgasm. Your reaction is a pitiful thing - all choking and betrayal, but he can't seem to stop himself from grinning.

When he really thought about it, this was all your fault. You have no one to blame but yourself.

After all, Gojo can usually be trusted to do the right thing.

This time, you just didn't give him another choice.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk x reader #jjk #yandere jjk #jjk imagines #gojo x reader #yandere gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #yandere gojo x reader #yanderecore #yancore

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themultifanshipper · 6 months ago

Note

Hiiiii ❤️ Could you please write something driverxreader (I’m partial to Carlos but it can be any other you thinks fits the prompt):

Reader wants to surprise him and set a really sexy mood but when he comes home he’s not in the mood (bad race/shitty offers or whatever). So the kick is that he tries to pretend he is into it because all his exes have sort of pushed the “driver’s stamina is endless and men are always on the mood” stereotype and he feels pressured to perform. Reader notices and ends in some sort of fluffy conversation about enthusiastic consent needed from both parts.

IDK if that makes sense but if it does I’m sure you’ll do something amazing with it.

Luv ya! Bye ✌🏽

The race had not gone well for Carlos. A DNF was always hard to take, and you were determined to make him feel better, by any means necessary.

Warnings: Issues around consent, discussing consent, bit angsty, then fluffy, then goes completely unhinged, I'm talking breeding kink, I'm talking getting pinned down and RAILED and BRED (this fic is a roller coaster ngl), mention of pregnancy, cream pie, cum, spit, my disgusting kinks are exposed here (but the smut is at the end so you can stop after the fluffy bit)

You'd set up the apartment perfectly, scented candles, flowers, the works. You'd even made his favourite cookies, having got the recipe from his mother the week before.

So when he walked in all sulky you took the liberty of removing his coat and wrapping your arms around him, kissing him sweetly to welcome him home.

He hummed contentedly as the smell of the cookies invaded his senses and he gasped.

“You didn't! My favourite?” his eyes shone with affection as you nodded.

He took as step towards the kitchen, to follow the alluring smell, but you stopped him with an arm around his waist.

“There will be plenty of time for cookies after” you purred.

“After what?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“Come with me” you said mysteriously as you led him though the corridor into the bedroom.

This was the thing with Carlos, he was insatiable (he was a rich hot competitive man, after all) and you’d come to find that you could fix anything with sex.

Bad race? Sex. Problems with the team? Sex. Bad football results? Sex. Bad weather? Sex.

He was always up for it, you were always up for it, so you dragged him to the bedroom, where you'd set up a few candles to set the mood, and sat him down on the edge of the bed.

You climbed onto his lap, his hands naturally coming to wrap around you as you kissed him deeply.

He sighed into the kiss and you took the opportunity to wrap your fingers into his hair and pull, earning a grunt from him.

“I'm sorry about your race baby” you said sensually, pushing him down to lay on the bed. “Let me make you feel better”

You leant down and kissed along his neck, where you knew he was sensitive, and you gently ground your hips down, making him gasp and let out a low moan.

He lifted himself up enough for you to take his shirt off, as your mouth went lower. His nipples were one of his most sensitive spots, the lightest of touches usually getting him desperate and needy, but all your tongue managed to elicit was a light hiss.

His hand came up to cup the back of your head to keep you there though, so you took that as a good sign.

“Does that feel good, baby?” you asked, and he nodded, eyes closed.

“Want me to go lower?” He licked his lips before answering the most noncommital ‘yes' you'd ever heard.

He was probably a bit too in his head, so your hand went to slip inside his pants.

And that's when you realised… he wasn't even half hard.

Carlos would normally be dripping and begging by now.

“Baby?” his eyes were still screwed shut, and there was a slight wobble in his lower lip as he answered.

“You can keep going…” his voice was so low you barely heard him.

“Carlos look at me” it was an order, your voice taking on the serious tone that Carlos knew meant business.

He looked down at you with unshed tears in his eyes. “I'm sorry”

The tremor in his voice broke your heart and you immediately stood up and pulled him upright in a sitting position, with you standing between his legs.

“Don't you dare apologise! What's wrong, baby?” you held his face in your hands as he bit his lip, obviously uncomfortable about something. “Did I do something wrong Carlos?”

He shook his head.

“Then tell me, what is it? I need you to tell me what's wrong”

He sighed.

“I just don't want to disappoint you. You made all this effort for me…”

You shushed him by kissing him quickly.

“Baby you can't disappoint me. Why would you think that?”

He sniffled. “Because I am not in the mood but I am supposed to be able to provide your pleasure, no? I’m sorry for ruining your plan”

“Baby there's nothing wrong with not being in the mood. I just assumed you would be because it's what we always do after a bad race, I shouldn't have assumed”

“It's not your fault, my ex always used to say that men are always horny and usually that is true but today I just feel like a failure, and now I've failed you as well by not being what you wanted…”

“Carlos you haven't failed me, I love you! Sex isn't important enough to ruin that. If anything it's my fault, I pushed you even though you didn't want to. I'm sorry.”

“No, no! It's my fault. I didn't say no, you couldn't have known!”

You cringed at his words. That's not how consent works.

"I hate everything about that sentence. You shouldn't have to say no. I should have read the signs better, baby…”

“But if I had said no we wou-”

“Carlos!” he stopped and looked at you. “We can argue all day about who's fault it is. The point is I never want you to feel pressured into anything, and let's agree that we always need enthusiastic consent going forward, okay?”

He nodded and pulled you in for a hug, burying his head in the crook of your neck. “Thank you”

“I love you Carlos”

You two stayed like that, cradling each other for what felt like hours, your hand running up and down his back soothingly.

When his heartbeat felt normal again, he mumbled into your skin.

“Can we have cookies, now?”

You giggled, looking down at him as he smiled up at you.

“Of course we can, baby”

You pecked him on the lips before taking his hand in yours and leading him to the kitchen, where his favourite snack lay waiting in the tray.

By the time you'd finished the cookies (and a cheeky glass of wine) it was getting late, so you decided to call it a night.

What you hadn't realised, is that your attentiveness to his needs and you baking his mothers recipe made him earth-shatteringly horny.

So as he crawled into bed behind you, you felt him against your ass and you smirked.

“Do you want to fuck me now, baby?”

He growled into your hair as his hips rolled into yours without him even realising.

“More than anything I have ever wanted in my life”

You giggled and he rolled you onto your front, looming over you like a predator as he pinned you down with his thighs either side of yours.

“And you? Do you want me to fuck you?”

You nodded.

“I need your words, hermosa, like we said” his lips came down to your neck and trailed kisses up to your ear.

“Yes Carlos, please.” You gasped as he shifted his hips to grind into you harder, the friction driving you insane and the feeling of being unable to move as he had his way with you turning you on more than you would admit out loud.

“You can do better than that, mi amor, beg for me…” he whispered, his hands going to grab a pillow to prop your hips up a bit. “tell me how much you want me”

“Carlos, please. I need you to fuck me, I need your cock inside me, please!”

He growled, and ripped your underwear off in one go, hands immediately going down to spread your cheeks, exposing how wet you had gotten so embarrasingly quickly.

He trailed a line of spit down to where you needed him most, the feeling making you shiver, and he wasted no time dipping two fingers in down to the knuckle.

The stretch was incredible, and the angle meant he didn't need to search long to find the spot that made your eyes roll back in pleasure.

You vaguely registered the sound of the bedside drawer opening and closing “We don't have any condoms left, hermosa”

You were about to cry, the pleasure so good you didn't want to stop now. But Carlos suddenly had an idea.

He leaned over you plastering his body over yours, and slid his cock between your thighs, his tip knocking against your clit every time he thrusted forwards. It wasn't perfect but it was certainly hot as fuck as you felt like horny teenagers again, rutting against each other mindlessly.

His cock kept catching against your entrance, threatening to slip in at any moment, as you trembled beneath him.

“Carlos please, just fuck me!” you gasped as his pace increased with his desperation.

“Even without a condom?” he asked, pace faltering slightly at the idea of taking you bare.

“Want you to fill me up, Carlos. Make me yours”

His resolve… well it didn't even make an appearance, as he leaned back and positioned his tip at your entrance, dipping it in teasingly.

“tell me again” he growled.

“Come inside me, please. Fill me up, I want to be full of you”

He wasted no time slamming into you, the thought of your walls, tight and wet around his cock much too enticing to wait any longer.

He stayed there, throbbing inside you at the feeling of finally getting to have you like this for the first time in your relationship.

It was almost overwhelming when he hooked an arm under your hips and started grinding his cock into you, hitting all your sweet spots as you moaned wantonly.

“You want me to fill you up? Come so deep inside you, fuck-” he hips involuntarily slammed into yours.

You moaned “Yes Carlos! I want you to fill me up until I can't take it anymore-”

His hips slammed into you again with more force, chest coming to lay against your back to pin you down with his weight as he pounded into you.

“Look at you, so submissive for me. Want me to breed you? I bet it would only take one try”

His hips moved at an inhuman pace as your hands reached out for something, anything to hold on to.

The idea of the man you loved getting you pregnant made you a bit feral, and you felt yourself nearing the edge the more he spoke.

“Going to fill you up so much my cum will be dripping out of you, hermosa. Do you want me to make you a mother? Keep you full of me all the time?”

“Yes! Yes Carlos! I'm gonna come. I'm- shit!”

“Come for me baby, milk my cock, that's my good girl…”

You saw white when you came, squeezing around Carlos as your body went completely pliant under him.

The feeling of you pulsing around his cock was enough for Carlos to come inside you with a shout, filling you up like he promised.

Your legs felt like jelly, and Carlos didn't feel like pulling out at all, so you stayed like that, riding out the aftershocks of your orgasms.

“I was serious by the way…” you started.

Carlos hummed questionningly.

“About… you know. Trying…”

You felt Carlos' body tense above yours.

“You want to… try?”

“Mhmm” you nodded shyly.

“Fuck” He sat up and pulled out of you gently, turning you over and bending your legs.

He stared at the way his cum started dripping out of you, the sight so lewd he had to close his eyes to keep from going insane.

“What are you doing?” you giggled.

“Give me a minute and i'll fill you up again” he looked at you, and his eyes were so dark you gasped, a spark of arousal running through you at the sight.

“And i'll fill you up as many times as it takes”

Tears started welling up in your eyes. This was it. You and Carlos were going to be parents.

Carlos was hard again, and the fact that this made him so unhinged made you clench, and more cum dribbled out of you, making Carlos moan at the sight.

He tapped his cock on your clit a couple of times, then slid in to the hilt.

You sighed, his cock filling you so perfectly, and he started a bruising pace, laser focused on the wetness between your legs.

He was a man on a mission. And boy, did he deliver.

#my thots #carlos thots #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz #cs55 #f1 #formula 1 #ask #request

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idkwhatimdoinghere1655 · 1 year ago

Text

But Baby - Lando Norris

Lando was clingy on a normal day, and his birthday was no exception. He always liked to have you where he could see you, and his birthday was no exception. He always liked to cuddle with you whenever he pleased, and his birthday was no exception.

You were sat, typing away on your laptop at the kitchen table, replying to emails from your boss and trying to get your work done as quickly as possible. Despite his protests, you still had to work on Landos' birthday - even if he was less than impressed.

"Are you done yet?" He called from his spot on the couch. This was the fifth time he had asked in fifteen minutes, and you could tell he was becoming more and more needy as the seconds ticked by. "Nearly, just be patient," you told him for what felt like the hundredth time today.

"But baby, it's my birthday," he whined, standing from the couch and trudging over to you. "Can't this wait until tomorrow?" he asked, resting his arms over your shoulders and his chin atop your head. All he wanted was for you to go to the couch and cuddle him - it was his one birthday wish.

"I've got to do it now, I'm sorry," you said, the weight of him nearly on top of you not stopping you from typing. "Do you have to do it now now? Can it not wait until at least later?" he groaned, starting to sway side to side as he latched onto you.

"As soon as I'm finished, you have me for the rest of the day, I promise," you said, briefly ceasing from your work and leaning back into his embrace. "But I want you now, baby," he continued to whine, as if it would persuade you to drop everything and give into his asks.

It wasn't that you didn't want to, not by any means, but you had to finish your work, and that was just how it is. Lando didn't see that side though, and you knew he was stubborn. He would keep on asking until you did what he wanted.

He was pushy, but in a cute way. All he wanted was your affection, to have you close to him where he knew you were safe. "I know, I know," you said, turning your attention back to your laptop. You knew if you looked at him you'd probably see those puppy-dog eyes and melt into a puddle of willingness.

Lando pulled up a chair beside you, pushing it as close to yours as he possibly could. As he sat down, his legs were practically draped over yours as he wrapped his arms around your waist and snuggled into you. "If you won't come to me, I guess I'll have to come to you. Even if it is my birthday," he quietly pouted, burying his face into your shoulder.

"I know it's your birthday, but I still have stuff to do," you mumbled, opening another email. There weren't many left, but if you told Lando that, he'd just try and convince you to do it later. "So you're saying your work is more important than me? The man who makes you happier than ever? The love of your life?" he grovelled with feigned hurt.

"No, that's not what I meant and you know that," you shook your head with a chuckle.

"Maybe I do, but maybe I need some reminding?" he giggled, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes at him. "Lando. Wait," you playfully scolded, nudging him in the ribs lightly.

"Fine," he scoffed, resigning himself to the fact that he wasn't going to get anything out of you. Not yet, anyway. Every now and then, Lando would loudly and overdramatically sigh as a final attempt to hurry you along.

He figured if he tried to irritate you slightly, he'd get what he wanted, but he knew you better than that deep down "OK, I'm all done," you declared, closing the lid of your laptop.

"Finally!" Lando exclaimed, practically leaping up from his chair beside you and instantly hoisting you into his arms. "Lando don't drop me," you instructed as he moved the position of his hands. He carried you like a princess as you snaked your arms around his neck.

"I would never do that," he grinned, leaning his head down to plant a swift kiss on your cheek. "Where are we going?" you asked as he walked you past the couch and through the kitchen. "Birthday boy decides," was all he said, carrying you into the bedroom and dropping you down onto the bed.

"If this was what you wanted, all you had to do was ask," you suggestively smirked as he sat on the bed beside you. "I don't want anything like that right now, I just want to hold you," he said, his voice dripping with affection and the look in his eyes was pure love and innocence.

"OK baby, OK," you smiled as he pulled the covers over himself and opened his arms out to you. "C'mere," he mumbled, and it wasn't long before you had snuggled up beside him and had your head resting on his chest.

"Now this is all I want for my birthday, y'know that? My girl in my arms, it's all I need," he tiredly rambled, and your heart warmed at his comments. "Happy birthday, Lando," you said as his arms tightly held onto you.

"Thank you baby, I love you," he told you, pressing a soft kiss into your hair.

"I love you too," you smiled, making a note to maybe give into Lando a bit quicker. This was way better than working.

A/N - Well if it isn't this pretty boy's birthday! I couldn't not write a quick little something for his birthday, since I wrote this with my free time yesterday. Sorry for the lack of posting, I have had 0 time and it's been killing me! So, enjoy your day/night, and happy birthday to this muppet 💖

|masterlist|

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mydearlybeloathed · 1 year ago

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𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐌𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: even as you grow older, you'll always be his baby sister

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: strawhats x sanjissister!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.5k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: lowercase intentional, cursing, allusions to insecurities

𝐚/𝐧: this is basically just sanji curing my childhood wish for a big brother. i have more ideas about how sanji would be at his wits end with a reckless little sister so look out for those hehe

𝐎𝐏 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈'𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐀

i imagine sanji is two years older than you, but it never felt like it. you and him were never apart for too long, more by obligation than choice.

so it was no surprise when sanji dragged confused little you with him as he hid from the pirates invading the ship, only outing your hiding place in the name of saving his food from oregano.

you'd hurried after him, of course; that's all you knew to do at such a young age.

and when zeff had sanji up against the wall, being so young meant you also knew only one thing to do in this situation: you bit zeff, latching your teeth around his arm and drawing blood from his broken skin.

zeff howled and very nearly threw you into the wall as well, before his eyes zeroed in on you, this little girl with wild eyes and a mighty strong jaw. he only jerked you off him, then, staring from you to sanji then back to you. "wha—? what kind of little gremlin just bites a man?!" your eyes were steely. "I'm not a gremlin." then, "bitch." though it was clear you didn't understand what it meant, probably catching it from the other chefs of the now sieged ship. gritting his teeth, zeff continued on his shouting. it made you and sanji angry, and zeff marveled at how your expressions were twin–like, despite your difference in appearance. then, the ship had wrecked, and it all went downhill from there.

sanji always made sure you’d eaten more than him on that damn rock, even when you fought him and scratched him as he forced a morsel of bread into your mouth.

he'd held your hand as you cried the first ten days, and he had mourned when on the eleventh, your eyes took on a dead sort of sheen, like you were now a decade older in the head.

it was unnerving, really.

sanji learned a lot on that rock. like what it meant to be the responsible one, or at least more responsible than you.

sanji just wanted you to listen, but it seemed like all his words went in one ear and out the other. you wouldn't eat despite all his begging, only staring at him with that horridly blank stare and pushing the food back toward him. tears started to form at the corners of his eyes as he held up the very last piece of bread. "please," he begged. "please just eat it." you shook you head, forcing the tears to stream down his cheeks. that broke through your indifference, your frown deepening as you inched closer to him. "we'll half it," you offered, taking his shaking hand and guiding him to split the bread, taking one half and waiting for him to calm down before you ate in silence. you really did feel older than him, and he didn't like it. only when that night fell did he realize you were simply a very, very good actor. your whimpers were like thunder in his ears as he sprang up from a featherlight sleep, his eyes locking on your quivering form just a hair's breadth away. "y/n?" he whispered, shaking your shoulder. you spooked awake, and in the reflection of moonlight he saw glinting tears traced down your face. "nightmare?" your nod and sniffle tore him up inside, and in seconds he was hugging you to his chest, telling you stories till he was sure you were at least sleeping better than him. "someday," he said, "we'll find a place where we'll never go hungry. where every flavor and ingredient can be found. the all blue. i'll take us there, and we'll never starve again." you were asleep by the time he started plotting to raid zeff's side of the rock in the morning. it had been sanji who guarded you from seeing the stump left of zeff's leg, ignoring you when you asked him to explain what was happening.

growing up on the baratie was an experience, for sure.

your only company were the crooks who worked in the kitchen alongside you and sanji, and you found them amusing company indeed.

especially when they started teaching you how to be a remarkable little con-artist. once in your late teens, it wasn't long before you'd abandoned your work in the kitchen to wait tables.

not only were the tips amazing to pocket away, but your charming smile and whimsical attitude made you a master of sympathy.

there isn't a customer you can't placate, a fight you can't break up; sanji would never admit it, but you'd save him from one too many brawls with just a single simper.

it was easy to hold that over his head, but for some reason, sanji never let it keep him from completely wrecking your social life.

to say sanji is protective of you is the understatement of the century; you'd be the first to attest to that.

it was growing to be annoying and just plain inconvenient, if you're being honest.

was it too much to ask for some time to yourself... with the company of a horny teenage boy... in your quarters... alone?

"sanji!" you hissed, face bright red as your brother dragged you and this young sailor boy--you hadn't caught his name--out of a broom cupboard, his grip on the boy's collar deathly. throwing the boy aside, sanji stormed back up to him. "did you touch my sister? you think you can just take advantage of her like tha'?" you ran your hands over your face and rushed to separate sanji, shaking in anger, from the boy, shaking in his boots. "stop! he wasn't takin' advantage of me, sanji. hell, i started it!" "y-yeah!" the sailor boy piped in, cowering behind you. "she was all over me and—" "shut up," you and sanji said in tandem, shooting the boy matching glares that sent the poor sailor darting for his crew's ship.

as the years dragged on, you and sanji couldn't deny that the idea of remaining on the baratie all your lives would be... well... sad.

you wanted more for yourselves—you specifically wanted to get sanji away from zeff's constant criticism, no matter how well–meaning it was.

but the years really were dragging, and could you ever really bare to leave the man you'd nearly called father on several occasions? could you leave the shit-hole restaurant that raised you in it's wooden arms?

probably not. you'd probably die washing dishes (snore) and burning water (whoops) and charming the pants off grumpy old men (yuck).

that is, it always seemed that way until a grand vessel with a goat for a masthead docked at the baratie.

the day had been it's usual level of boring, until two customers decided to have a little row which heated up with every word shot back at each other.

you, having a good track record, rushed forth to prevent the fight just itching to break out. but today was not your lucky day.

"gentlemen," you grinned. stepping between the two men, you held up your hands and settled each of them with batted eyes and a soft expression. "what's this about, hmm?" sanji loitered at a nearby table, refilling drinks with one eye on you. he was ripely kicked out of the kitchen, snug in his waiter's jacket. one of them huffed, "he's at my table!" "i don't see your name on it!" the other snapped. your patience wanned, your thoughts screaming man-child. "i'm sure we can work something out. just please, don't start anything in the restaurant." the first man seemed to consider you, his eyes dragging up and down your form, but any progress you might have made was destroyed by the next second. "i ain't movin', girl. he can go shit 'imself in the corner." that was how you winded up directly between them, your hands pushing against either chest to keep them separated, your heartrate accelerating as they pressed in on you as if you weren't even there. grunting, you called out, "brother?" in seconds, sanji had a grip on your sleeve in one hand and a fistful of the first man's collar in the other. he jerked you away from them and swiftly shoved the men away from each other. "sister," he said in turn, cracking his neck as the men continued to not learn their lesson. "take these rolls to table four, yeah?" you didn't need to be told twice, swiping the tray of bread from his arm and beelining for a booth housing a motley crew of people. behind you, grunts and winces and crashing could be heard, followed by the thick silence of your brother's victory. you set the tray down on the table, shooting a tight lipped smile up at the guests. a boy wearing a peculiar straw hat locked you in place with his bright eyes and wondered aloud, "he's a great fighter." "yep," you quipped. "a real hero. any drinks for the handsome crew?"

it turned out the boy with the straw hat was crazy: he intended to become king of the pirates.

you admired his tenacity, of course, but really? he had a death wish.

still, the more you spoke to luffy and the more you observed his character, being king of the pirates didn't seem so crazy. he had guts, that was for sure.

as crazy as it sounded, you started to believe he could do it.

so it was really no surprise you said yes when luffy asked you to join his crew.

he had already asked sanji the day before—before luffy's swordsman friend got obliterated by a warlord of the sea.

you didn't know him, but when you rushed onto the going merry after zeff an sanji, and you saw the bloodied man lying there, you could barely move a muscle.

you were never good around the air of death, and it was all around roronoa zoro, lingering like a knock you expected but never came. so you couldn't move, not even when they moved zoro to a bed, out of sight. not when zeff and sanji retreated back to the baratie.

you snapped back to life at the sound of luffy's voice, finding him leaning down to be directly eye level with you. he was still speaking, and it felt sort of like being under water, till finally, you surfaced. "sorry what?" "are you okay?" he asked, brows knit. you pondered your response while looking anywhere but his face. "yeah, sorry. i... i don't like feeling helpless, i guess." you vaguely gestured to where zoro's limp body had laid upon the nearby table. "being out of control makes me wig out." luffy tilted his head. "why're you out of control?" "because," you nearly laughed. "your friend is dying." immediately, you regretted your word choice, hating how the light fizzled from his eyes. "he's not dying," luffy snapped back. "he was injured and now he's healing. why does everyone insist he's dying?" you shuffled on your feet. "right, sorry." when you met his eyes again, there wasn't any frustration like you assumed there would be. instead, he settled you with a curious look. "you don't have to keep apologizing." luffy was an odd type of pirate, you thought with a forced little grin. "then how will people know i'm sorry?" he smiled. "fair point." taking a hold of your sleeve, luffy started to drag you deeper into the going merry, leading you right to where zoro was laid. his grip on you loosened as he passed into the room, but you stayed cemented in the doorway. nami was there, sullen looking. you watched as nami berated luffy and stormed away, shoulder checking you on the way out, leaving luffy smileless. that didn't sit well with you. walking up beside him, you took a kneel just as he did, and turned your eyes on zoro's pallid face. "hello," you murmured. silence was your reply. "i'm y/n. you don't know me... your friends care a lot about you. it'd be... sad, if you died." luffy stiffened at your side. "which you won't! i've heard of you. no way the demon pirate hunter will let—let a scratch get him..." as your rambling died down, luffy slowly shifted to look at you, all serious for a moment. unnerved, you chuckled nervously. "what?" a tiny grin worked its way onto his lips, a glimmer in his eyes. "will you join my crew?" you nearly laughed. "luffy, you don't want me." "yeah. i do. why else would i ask?" "i'm useless." "you're kind," he said, shutting you up as a flush bloomed in your cheeks. "not everyone can say that."

a long story short, you joined luffy's crew of strawhats right along sanji.

your parting from the baratie had been watery, to say the least. whilst sanji shouted curses at zeff and stormed out to luffy's ship, you stood shaky as zeff huffed, his eyes roaming toward you.

you very nearly tripped head over foot in your sprint to wrap him in a hug. he was the only father you'd ever had, really. leaving him was bittersweet.

the going merry was a very nice place to call home, in your opinion.

you were a jack of all trades amidst the crew, choosing to do odd jobs around the ship. most days, you found yourself asking around with a little list in your journal, taking note of everyone’s grocery needs and even keeping track of the ship’s supply inventory.

not only that, but you found your crewmates tended to lack the sense to take care of themselves in a timely manner.

that is, none of them could be faster than your attentive eye, and no one was safe from your protective inclinations.

nami was attentive, but she tended to disassociate, and when she did it was very hard to get her back. she would go on for hours, working herself to the brink of exhaustion, not accepting even a sip of water. (she couldn't stop you, however, from forcing a cup of ice water down her throat. even she was intimidated by your determination to hydrate her).

then there was zoro, who absolutely refused to allow anyone to help him dress his wounds; and since he wasn't the best at it, you often stared at his haphazard bandages with fear of infection. he brushed you off enough times to invoke your wrath upon him. (zoro quit refusing after the first three times you ambushed him, wrapping your arm around his neck and blocking his airway).

you always listened to usopp's stories, but oftentimes you grew tired of the repetitive and clearly fake tall tales. you wanted to know his real stories, and you told him so. he'd laughed awkwardly and replied that he wasn't interesting enough for that. (he was fairly surprised at your insistence, and was warmed at your fascination with the silly story of how he met kaya).

luffy, your captain, was a walking migraine most days. he was smart, but just as brave, and jumped to action faster than you could process. it left you stressed beyond what you could handle, and this alone was enough to make luffy more cautious. (he never wanted to make you unhappy, so you'd inadvertently given him some of your common sense).

finally, sanji, who you'd been dealing with all your life. you knew all his tells, whether it was baking macarons when he was upset or going eerily silent for far too long. you always knew what he needed, and when he needed it. (more often than not all he needed was a compliment, and not just from some doe–eyed woman at a bar; a word of sentiment from his baby sister could drag him out of any stupor).

overtime, the crew took to calling you their boatswain. after all, you fit the job description, and you took the title with pride.

as time flew by with the strawhats, you began to listen to the dreams and aspirations of the others, and began to wonder what exactly you wanted out of life. the all blue was sanji’s dream… so what was yours?

the going merry was docked at a friendly port for the next few days, meaning the crew was free to explore and roam the city as they pleased. you, however, remained behind that very first night.

as far as you knew, the others had decided upon a bar for the night’s celebration. The quiet dwelling over the ship was calming, and from your sweat crisscrossed on the afterdeck you had a wide view of the stars.

your notebook rested on your belly, pen tight between your fingers, thoughts moving a million miles an hour. there hadn’t been time to get shopping done that day, so you would rouse the ship early the next morning and assign them to fetch groceries in pairs of two—just to be safe.

and though the heavy thinking could wait till the morning, you were stuck in a spiral of inventory and lists. it was… exhausting, and offered little to no fulfillment. still, it was what you did to help.

A familiar patter of boots broke your reverie, and you peeked up to find sanji coming to loom over you, his hands shoved in his pockets. his suit jacket was draped over one shoulder and his hair was a mess—he wasn’t drunk though, which was a very good sign.

silently, he disposed of his jacket and laid down beside you, resting his hands behind his head. for a split second, you got a glimpse of the damn rock imbeedded in your memory for all time, and how sanji used to make up stories about the stars.

since then, you’d come to know their true stories. you knew every constellation by name, having memorized them upon the baratie and spoken to them every lonely night. the stars had been your friends in your youth, and though your conversations with them were few and far between now, they always shined for you. so as far as you knew, you were never alone.

sanji raised an arm and pointed in a random direction. “bet you can’t name that one.”

a grin worked its way up your face. “how much?”

he turned his head, eyes boring into you. “if you can’t, you tell me what’s on your mind.”

“that’s hardly fair.”

“take it or leave it.”

you huffed, but complied, glaring up at the sky. “cassiopeia. cursed to remain in the stars for claiming her daughter was more beautiful than the nerieds.” you kissed your teeth. “hardly a punishment. i’d love to be in the stars.”

there was a weight behind your words; a truth so deep you had to take a long breath to recover. wetting your lips, you asked your brother, “do you think, someday, i could study them?”

“why someday?”

“well, you need supplies. tools. there’s only so much our eyes can tell from down here.”

“tools,” he murmured. “so, you want to study the stars?”

the words flooded from your lips. “i want to know everything about them. i want to know why they shine, how far they are, what’s beyond them… can we get there?” you sighed into a smile. “there are some cities that have observatories dedicated to astronomy, but you’ve got to be some kind of noble scholar to get in.”

sanji listened, and he listened well. He laid by your side and listened to you tell him about the stars till nami and zoro came lugging a drunk usopp between them, luffy taking the lead. he remained in thought for most of the night, and sought out nami to ask about expenditures, and then set out to find luffy.

it was safe to say you weren’t quite as upset at sanji and luffy for disappearing all evening when they returned at sunset, some beri short, with a gift in hand.

you stood slack jawed as they revealed a beautiful telescope, the metal polished and bright and shining. how they had managed to sneak it past you and set it up on the afterdeck was beyond you, but you hardly cared to ask.

you threw your arms around your brother, whispering your thank yous, and quickly turned to tackle your captain in a hug just as tight. the night to follow was marked by your awed sighs and the excited way you told the crew about ursa major and ursa minor, then about castor and pollux, and so on till you could barely keep your eyes open.

and sanji would never say it out loud, but he admired you. you turned out pretty damn good despite having him as your big brother. someday, you’d reach the stars. he knew that for certain. he could only hope you’d come visit once or twice.

“g’night,” he muttered to the crew as he stood, making his way over to where you’d drifted off against a barrel. he scooped you up in his arms and was veyr careful to not wake you as he made his way to your and nami’s quarters.

sanji rested you down and moved to take off your boots and pull the blanket over you, and he found himself frozen all of a sudden. lips pursed, he patted your hair, and turned to go. at the door, he paused and looked back. you slept so soundly for once, something he was so very glad for. he wasn’t blind to how you’d been overworking yourself.

perhaps he would talk to you about that in the morning, but for now, he simply smiled. “good night, sister. love you.”

and whispered back to him, just in time for him to hear: “g’night, sanj. i love you.”

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llonelygoddess · 1 year ago

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How they react to...you getting injured

A/N: I hope this doesn't sound redundant but here ya go :)

Romantic Pairings: Ned Stark, Robb Stark, Jon Snow, Sansa Stark, Margaery Tyrell, Theon Greyjoy, Khal Drogo, Brienne of Tarth, Missandei

Ned Stark: If you got injured it would most likely be from falling off your horse during a casual ride. As the doting husband he is he would be rushing to your side and calling maesters to check on you. With only a small bruise to show for you try to get back on the horse but Ned doesn't allow it. He doesn't mean to control you, he only wants to keep you safe from any more serious injuries that won't heal as easy as a bruise.

Robb Stark: With Robb, he normally has guards with you at all times because he worries for your safety. When one of them turns out to be a spy with intent to hurt you, Robb is livid. You were pushed and left with a few bruises but all he sees is red. Robb sentences the man to die and takes his head for it. He spends the rest of the day with you in bed, feeling guilty while he looks at your injuries. You'll definitely want to console him cause he will cry, especially thinking of what COULD have happened to you.

Jon Snow: He truly believes in your ability to take care of yourself, but when you get hurt during a fight he rushes to your side without second thought. You'll both have to fight your way out of the conflict but once you're safe he checks on your wounds. He asks for a maester to check them out to keep out infection and feels a little useless not being able to do anything himself. Jon makes it a point to joke about it to take away the serious energy going on and promises to always have your back.

Sansa Stark: Girly is straight up crying. Doesn't matter if it was just a little accident or you were roughed up by some thugs, younger Sansa is a crier. When she finds you she's holding onto you with strength you didn't know she had. Unlike older Sansa who would be ready to pass someone's death sentence, younger Sansa only cares about you feeling better. She does her best to make you a prayer wheel like her mother does for her.

Margaery Tyrell: She'd be a lot more calm than you'd think, at least around others. Once she sees you lying in bed with your leg elevated, she's questioning the hell out of you. What happened? Who was it? Do you need anything? Milk of the Poppy? It's almost entertaining to see how much she worries in contrast to her usual cool attitude. After you assure her that you're alright she's cuddling up in bed with you, probably to read something to you.

Theon Greyjoy: Pre!Reek Theon would instantly be at arms and ready to fight whoever touched you. He's possessive and the thought of ANYONE touching you pisses him off but especially if they meant to harm you. He wouldn't know how to express his worry for you so he'd just angrily stand by you as you recover. Post!Reek Theon is deeply insecure and guilty about you getting hurt. He still wants to fight whoever hurt you but he's more concerned with making sure you're okay.

Khal Drogo: *Activate instant death mode* I mean we saw what happened when Daenerys almost got poisoned, think about actually getting poisoned. Having to lay in bed for days while Drogo goes out in search for whoever did this to you. It doesn't matter why they did it or if you die or not, all that matters to him is giving them the most painful death possible. When he's done, he sits at your bedside knowing you are strong and capable of overcoming this.

Brienne of Tarth: It was only a training accident but your messed up ankle reminded Brienne how fragile you were. She was born and raised to endure the pain that came with being a knight/fighting, but you never asked for it. She'll feel upset at herself for not teaching you properly and it'll come off as anger towards you. Truly she doesn't mean it but if being hard on you will keep you safe next time then she knows what she has to do.

Missandei: Tearsss. She's crying before she even knows what happened to you. Stays by your bedside as you heal from a battle wound and takes responsibility for changing your dressings and cleaning the injury. Missandei knows that this is the life you've chosen to live, but sometimes she wishes she could take you away to her homeland safe from any harm.

#game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones preferences #game of thrones #got fanfiction #got x reader #got headcanons #got #ned stark x reader #robb stark x reader #jon snow x reader #sansa stark x reader #missandei x reader #brienne of tarth headcanons #brienne of tarth #khal drogo x reader #theon greyjoy x reader

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moonchildstyles · 1 year ago

Note

For a possible smutty gravity blurb: maybe something they haven’t tried before?? Like maybe flower watches one of his streams or something and he’s talking abt some type of kink/situation they’ve never done before and she gets all nervous bc she wants to do that but she’s kinda insecure bc why is he talking about it on stream but not to me??? And so maybe there’s a wholesome communication moment butttttt they end up doing that thing:) idk just a thought hehehehe

cw: anal play involved!! if that makes you uncomfortable please skip :)

wordcount: 10.2k+

—————

The end of autumn chill swirled around (Y/N) in a fluttering gust, the ends of her hair being lifted along the sweeping breeze. Her nose felt chilled, among the elements, any bare swatch of skin prickled with goosebumps. Despite her hand being exposed to the elements, she didn't notice much of that cold with the way Harry had it wrapped in his own. Walking her out to her car, he swung their hands between them in a juvenile show of affection. Since he started, she hadn't been able to wipe the smile from her face.

Looking up at him, seeing the tip of his own nose flushed with a chill to match that of his cheeks, her grin widened. He still had his glasses on from class, a heavy cardigan on his torso with his curls still a bit loose from his morning shower.

"What?" he asked, glancing down at her with a wide smile, his dimples and bunny-like front teeth on display.

"Nothing, just looking," she muttered through the curl of her lips, "You're working tonight, right?"

"I am, yeah," he sighed, "Sorry."

Creases pulled her brows into a furrow. "Why are you sorry? It's your job, don't be sorry."

"I know," he drawled, the same way he always did when she had to remind him that there was no reason for guilt tied to his line of work. "But, I was wanting to spend time with you tonight instead."

Bumping his shoulder, her gentle scolding tone melted, "You know, I could still come over."

A shy flush bubbled to the surface of his cheeks, painting him a deeper shade of red than the wind could accomplish. "You'd distract me too much."

"I think we could still get through," she teased, her voice lilting as she bumped her hip against his once more.

"Maybe, another time, flower," he murmured, looking down at her with an expression she figured was better suited to the man on camera and not the physics tutor he was during the day.

"Another time, then," she agreed, pushing back the sudden need to squirm as his eyes traced down her form.

Approaching the parking lot, her car in the lucky space close to the building, (Y/N) pretended as if she didn't cut her pace to make slower strides. She wanted an extra couple of seconds with him, even if it meant walking like the people she complained about on campus between classes.

"Did y'still want me to call you before bed?"

"Yes, please," (Y/N) answered, "If you're not too tired, anyway."

"Never too tired for you, love."

Thinking back to the first days of knowing Harry, remembering the way he struggled to meet her eyes or would flush immediately when she said something as simple as his name, it was hard to compare him to the version that stood before her now. Openly flirting with her and agreeing to another time where she could sit in on one of his cam sessions and distract him for fun. It was no wonder she had never seen the obvious signs tying the camboy on her computer to her physics tutor.

"Get home safe, yeah?" he murmured to her, stopping at the bonnet of her car. Using his hold on her hand he turned her to face him.

"I'll text you," she smiled up at him, rising to her tiptoes for a moment to press her lips to his in a small kiss.

Harry chased after her, unwilling to let the kiss end just yet. He won his reward of an extra peck before she started pulling away. He'd been late to his afternoon classes one too many times after walking her back to her car, claiming he just wanted to make sure she made it there alright when they really ended up spending time kissing until his cheeks were flushed.

"Go to class," she reprimanded him, drifting away from him towards her car.

Keeping his hand clasped in hers, Harry elongated that contact until he couldn't anymore, his fingertips grazing hers before they dropped to his side. "Love you."

"Love you, too, H. I'll see you tomorrow."

A toothy grin spread across his cheeks as he looked at her, his eyes impossibly behind the lens of his glasses. "See you tomorrow.

She gave him a tinkling wave as she stepped into her car. He would stay there until he saw her pull out of the lot, keeping to his promise of ensuring she started her journey home safely (he knew too many statistics about driving accidents to freely let her go without being there in case of emergency, he'd said). But, even as she pulled out of the lot into the main road, she could see him in her rearview mirror, standing with his hands on the straps of his backpack, wide grin on his mouth.

There was the tutor version of him again; the one that was soft and smiley, shy and wrapped in sweaters. She was going to have to tune into his stream tonight to get the other side of him.

—————

While tuning into Harry's shows were something that she always found fulfilling, there was something especially satisfying now that she knew who he was and knew him as more than just a faceless crooner. Though, she could admit, she still felt a bit shy when she logged in.

However, it didn't take her long to sink into the night session when she tuned in after putting away her study materials for the night. Checking the time, she knew Harry would be in the middle of his stream then, the temptation too much to ignore before she was logged in and watching him as he cooed and moaned for the camera.

By the time his screen was pulled up for her, his tip meter was already full and over the edge, his shirt off and his hand wrapped around his cock though his boxers were still on. She knew this routine—it was one of her favorites, anyway; he was in the mood to tease the audience tonight. He was going to coax them into begging for him, asking for more of daddy before he would be so inclined to give it. His chest was flushed a warm red, complimenting the black tattoos inked on his skin. Blocks of muscle were bunching and straining, his abs shining with a layer of sweat. The camera had almost everything in view, going as high up as to capture the line of his throat before cutting off at his jaw.

Plugging her headphones into her ears, she heard the labored sound of his breathing, the rich gravel of his town heavy on his tongue, and the slick sound of his fist passing over his length.

She had her hands on her keyboard, reading to type something out for him to test if he had his eyes on the chat, but she stopped short when he resumed talking. He was detailing out a fantasy for them, one she had never heard fall from his lips before.

"Would you like that, baby?" he asked, words drawling and dripping out of his mouth, "You'd let me try with you? You'd let me play with your cute little ass?"

Just out of view of the camera, he threw his head back, his breathing labored. She could see the stretch of his neck, flushed with his Adam's apple bobbing. His hand on his cock quickened, his fist slapping against his skin.

"You'd let me do that?" he continued, his voice completely breathless with his chest heaving, "Let me fuck you from the back and see where else you could take me? Play with you a little?"

With a fluttering blink, (Y/N) couldn't take her eyes off of what her Harry was doing on screen. Though he'd never brought it up to her before, it didn't take much for her to picture what he was offering for the audience.

She could be on her hands and knees for him, Harry kneeling behind her with his thighs smacking against the back of her own as his cock sank in and out of her pussy. Her heart was in her throat when she pictured him spreading her cheeks apart and thumbing at the second entrance he was speaking up, the second place she could "take" him like he said.

Is that something he wanted? He wanted to play with her, see what else he could mold her body into doing for him, see what reactions he could garner from her?

"You'd love it, sweetheart, I promise. I'd be so gentle, so gentle," he rambled, his voice sounding airy and lost the longer he sat with his fantasies. "I can put in a couple of fingers, show you how good it feels. I think I could make you cum like that. You want that?"

Her designated nickname pricked her ears. He didn't even know she was tuning into the show yet, having been frozen since he started speaking with no comments in her name being sent through the chat yet. He was thinking of her?

The idea made her thighs tense, her stomach squeezing into a tight knot.

There had never been a time in her life that she had considered allowing anyone to feel around anywhere other than her pussy, but the thought of Harry wanting to feel and touch her everywhere plucked at something in her. Leave it to him to make even the most unappealing of things into something she could see herself wanting.

"Fuck you everywhere, sweetheart, that's what I want" he groaned, the pace of his hand on his cock causing the band of his underwear to slip low enough to show off his length. "Gonna cum jus' thinking about it."

Sucking in a deep breath, (Y/N) listened to his breathing hitch and shudder, changing to match the heavy pace of his hand on his cock. He really was going to cum, that much she could tell. His abs were tight, skin flushed, and the base of his cock tight from the sliver of skin she could catch on screen.

"C'mon, sweetheart, tell me you'd let me try with you. Let me have more of you."

His chat was flooded with responses, going way too fast for (Y/N) to even attempt to concentrate on. She could imagine it was filled with the confirmations that he wanted, dirty promises that any of these audience members would spread open for him at any given moment. His tip meter had well exceeded the goal amount, the donations and tiny messages attached seemingly only urging him on.

All (Y/N) could give her attention to was the amount of times he uttered her nickname, asking her if she'd let him try his fantasy with her. That he promised that he would make it good for his sweetheart, that he'd be as gentle as he could be when sinking his fingers in and fucking her everywhere he could reach.

She felt as if she were out of her body, watching as he plucked down the band of his boxers. His heavy cock bounced up against his stomach before he caught it in his slick fist. His length was wet and flushed, precum pooling on the tip and dripping down his shaft. She was sure her mouth had dropped into a gape. This fantasy had elicited that kind of reaction from him. Her tummy tightened at the thought.

Though she was aware he was talking, spinning a story for his viewers to be entranced with, (Y/N)'s own head was spiraling around her own story.

Would he help hold her hips up when she couldn't anymore? She already felt full enough with his cock inside her, how much more would she feel with him like that? With his stamina, how long would he have her buried against the mattress, opened up just for him?

Before she could even be aware of the moment, she heard a familiar gasp in her headphones. Her eyes refocused on the screen, Harry's cock spurting with ropes of cum. Strings decorated his chest, slicking over his tattoos in milky pearls. He groaned, chest heaving with blushing skin. His throat was bobbing, the skin stretched with the very ends of his hair visible on the edge of the screen. She could picture his eyes closed, lavender eyelids fluttering with dark lashes. His mouth would be set into a gape, a pinch between his brows.

One of these days, she was going to end up going to his apartment after one of his streams. It wasn't fair that he was able to perform like that and she wasn't in his bed at the end of the night.

Harry recovered soon enough, cleaning off his chest and giving his signature send off for the night.

(Y/N) was still far from joining him in that headspace even when the screen blacked out, his page settling for the night. Her brain was still where he was describing his fantasy, where she could picture herself on all fours for him.

Replacing her laptop lid and sliding the device away, she rolled onto her back in the folds of her comforter. Staring up at the ceiling, she attempted to gather her bearings.

Now that more of the lust and the initial intrigue began to wane, she was left with a question.

Why wouldn't he tell her about this? Obviously, he had quite the feelings towards this fantasy, given the fact he was so worked up, cumming before she even really had a chance to catch up. Why was his first choice to share this with strangers on his stream as opposed to telling her?

To be fair, it was a rather intimate dream, even more than what they usually did with one another. But, considering the details of their relationship—her being an avid viewer of his before knowing his identity, Harry being an active cam-personality, as well as the time they sexted with one another before even knowing who they were—there were very blurry lines when it came to what could be "too much".

She hoped she had shown that she would be open to trying anything for him, just the same way he is with her.

Their phone call tonight would be interesting.

—————

"Hi, flower."

Snuggled in her duvet, (Y/N) relaxed into the mattress at the sound of his voice. "Hi, H. What are you doing?"

"About to fall asleep," he shared, his voice decidedly deeper than usual, "What about you, love? Y'get all your studying done?"

"Mhm," she hummed, casting her mind back to the hours before she tuned into his stream. They didn't seem so important compared to everything that happened after she slid her textbooks out of the way. Harry didn't even know yet that she had been present during the show, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to tell him. A part of her wanted to wait and see if he would broach the subject of everything without her having to bring it up. "How was your show?"

"Short," he laughed, the sound a warm vibrato, "I got too worked up and barely made it through a half an hour."

"Yeah?" she prodded, hoping to open up the conversation for him, "What happened?"

"Jus' m'imagination running a little too wild," he sighed, paraphrasing everything she had already heard through her headphones, "Thought about you a little too much, of course."

The timber of his voice fell as he spoke his last statement, enticing her through the phone as if that was a hard task for him to pull off. His voice was what paid half of his bills anyway—his body handled the other fifty percent.

(Y/N) felt a tad on the breathless side when she spoke next, settling back into the way she had integrated herself into his story; she could still see herself on her hands and knees, spread open for him with whines falling from her lips. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, sweetheart," he drawled, the smug smile on his lips audible through the phone, "You've seen the shows; you know what I think about when it comes to you."

It was hard not to get wrapped up in his words. Even with the small plan she had in her back pocket, this being her attempt to gather more information about the fantasy she shared with strangers on the internet, it was all too easy to fall into that soft, velvet coated space with him where his words were like silk and honey dripping over her skin. He knew exactly how to talk to her.

"Yeah," she swallowed, closing her eyes with her cheek mushed against her pillow, "But, was something different about today?"

Harry hummed as if he were considering her question. This would be the moment, she figured. This would be when he'd bring up the fact that he wanted to try something new with her, lay her out on his bed and take her in every way he could.

"I jus' think I miss you, that's all," he told her, deflating that anticipation ballooning in her chest. "I feel like 's been a while since I've had you all to myself, don't you think?"

Truthfully, they spent the entire weekend at his apartment, studying and working on papers in-between cuddles on the couch and romps in his bedroom.

"I think, we had all weekend together," (Y/N) laughed, teasing him some as if she still wasn't itching for alone time with him.

"I guess we did, huh," Harry joined in, "Jus' not enough for me then, I guess. You've spoiled me, now I'm always going to want more."

That declaration pinged in the back of her mind. He wanted more, that's what he's said in the stream. He wanted more of what she had to give him.

"I can do that," she answered instinctively, her voice a bit breathy over the line.

"Yeah? Gonna keep spoiling me?" he teased, his demeanor decidedly much more light-hearted compared to the creeping in of lust into her tone.

"I'll try." She'd try to be everything he wanted, she decided. She was going to be the place he indulged and shared those intimate stories with, not the internet.

A soft sigh sounded on the other line. "Y'always do, flower," he crooned before a yawn cut him off, "'M about to fall asleep, love, 'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," she rushed out, feeling guilty now that she's trying to extract information from him when he started the call telling her just how sleepy he was, "Go to sleep and I'll see you tomorrow, right."

"See you tomorrow," he confirmed, his voice heavy and dripping, "Love you."

"Love you, too, H. Goodnight."

Harry shared a final goodnight with her before the call ended with (Y/N) left in her lonely bedsheets and the new facet of him she learned today.

Her eyes shuttered to a close as she sunk into the silence of her bedroom. She hadn't been lying when she said that she would try to do that—be that—for him. Why he didn't tell her in the first place, wasn't something she could dwell on at the moment. She needed to focus on plucking up the courage to do what she promised.

—————

"I'm still coming over tonight, right?"

Harry's smile bloomed over his lips, dimples deep in his cheeks. "Of course," he murmured, dipping his head down through the open window of her car to press a kiss to the apple of her cheek, "Should jus' live there, if you ask me."

(Y/N)'s own lips were curled into a soft smile as she looked up at him. This wasn't the first time nor would it be the last time she heard of this want of his. "We'll see," she settled, "Let me know when you're back then I'll head over."

"I will," he smiled, pressing another delicate kiss to her mouth before pulling away. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she cooed, "I'll let you know when I make it home."

He murmured a small thank you against her skin before pulling away. He waved a goodbye at her as he stepped back from her car, giving space for her to pull out of the parking lot.

Flicking her gaze to the rearview mirror, Harry nothing more than a cardigan covered figure that grew blurrier and blurrier until she took the turn to leave him out of her sight, (Y/N) could feel her heart rate spike.

She had a plan. The idea of setting it in motion elicited that nervous excitement in her. All she wanted was for it to go along without a hitch, and spend a special night with Harry.

When she laced this whole thing together the night before, she decided that when she went over that night, she wouldn't even really address what she had heard him say in the stream. She would initiate everything, pushing a little bit for the taboo idea he had shared, telling him that she wanted to try something new with him. She would tell him that she wanted to give more of herself to him.

It wouldn't take too much convincing, she figured. She already knew he had quite the affinity towards the idea of trying out both of her entrances. All she had to do was frame it with all the confidence she could muster.

And, maybe a cute set of lingerie she had bought with him in mind.

—————

The soft sound of lips parting and coming together once more filled Harry's apartment, the television screen a plain black as (Y/N) didn't want to waste time playing pretend with a movie night or watching an episode of their show. Instead, she didn't take much time before she was climbing atop his lap on the couch, her thighs astride his hips and Harry's hands on her waist.

"Sweetheart," he sighed into her mouth, his grip on her waist tightening as if she would slip away without him, "I've missed you."

(Y/N)’s own hands cradling his jaw, thumbing at the planes of his cheeks. Tipping her head in an effort to deepen the kiss, her tongue sweeping across his own, her nose the side of his own. "I missed you too, daddy."

She could feel the way his title affected him, his cock hard and heavy against her own core. He used his hold on her as leverage to help grind her down against him, (Y/N) practically able to feel the ridge of his head and the pulse of his heart through the thin fabric of her shorts. His grey sweats left little to the imagination.

"Say it again."

Moaning into his mouth, a crease knitted her brows the further she sunk into the moment. This was her chance, she was vaguely aware of. She was so ready for him, she lacked those nerves that came with vulnerability and she doubted Harry would be self-conscious enough to deny any indulgence into his fantasies.

"Daddy," she moaned, leaning into him that much more.

Snaking a hand down his form, (Y/N) followed the line of his shoulder down to his forearm. She reached to grab at his wrist before guiding his hand down lower on her body. Harry pliantly let her move him until they reached the full of her ass, the plush skin denting under Harry's fingertips. She pressed back against him, encouraging him to grab and play with her just like he said he wanted.

Harry was all but melting between her thighs. His kissing was growing lax and heavy, his tongue playing with her own in languid strokes. His heartbeat was racing but there was no urgency in the way he handled her. He luxuriated in every touch, every stroke, every grab.

It didn't take long for him to bring his other hand down to match the first, gripping her bottom in the span of his palms. Her skin felt flush everywhere he touched her, making it easy for her to push back against his hands and urge him to take the more he had been searching for.

"What's gotten into you?" he murmured, his voice heavy and watered down through the interrupting kisses. "Not that I don't like it, but you're being different, sweetheart."

To his credit, she was definitely going out of her way and initiating more, asking for more, doing more than she ever had before. She was always perfectly content with Harry calling the shots and sinking into that persona he felt comfortable in when it came to the bedroom. While she wasn't planning on taking that power from him tonight, she still had an end goal in mind that she was willing to guide him into meeting her at.

"Sorry," she answered, taking her lips to the corner of his mouth as they caught their breath, "I can stop. I just didn't realize how much I missed you, that's all."

"No, no, don't slow down," he urged her, pulling her flush against him with his hands on her ass, "Jus' want you to talk to me. What do you want? What do you want daddy to give you?"

Traveling down his neck, her lips never left his skin as she dragged a string of kisses over the slope of his throat. "I want to try something new," she whispered, hiding in his neck as she spoke.

"New?" he clarified, his voice vibrating through his throat, "What do you mean, hm?"

Was there a pretty way to phrase what she was going to ask for? (Y/N) wasn't sure, but she was going to try her best. As lusty as she was, she still was a little too shy for the more vulgar of phrases.

Instead, she pressed her bottom back against his palms, the ridges of his palms and the digits of his fingers could be felt through her sleepover shorts. "I want more of this," she told him, nose skimming his hairline with her eyes shuttered closed. "Inside."

All at once, clarity seemed to move into Harry.

Shifting his hold on her, one palm returned to the curve of her waist and the other landed on the back of her neck. He drew her away from her hiding place, forcing her to meet his gaze.

The lush green of his eyes had been depleted into something dark and foresty, a thin ring around a dilated pupil.

Fluttering her eyes in a blink, she dropped her gaze down to the swollen pillows of his lips. "Why'd you stop?"

A lopsided curve tugged at the corner of his lips. His hand on the back of her neck shifted until he was cradling her jaw in his palm, thumbing at dip under her chin. "Wanted to talk to you for a second, that's all."

Her heartbeat sped up in her chest, though no longer because of the lust she had feathering through her veins. "About what?"

Amusement flickered through his gaze. "About what y'jus' said to me."

Underneath her, Harry looked every bit the boy she had met in her physics course, the one that was too shy to meet her eyes and overly apologetic any time he had to scoot past her. He was the one that had tutored her through the toughest lectures and exams, willing to take his time and teach her things she wouldn’t have understood without him. She remembered him with flushed cheeks and chunky glasses, always warm under a heavy cardigan and a shy smile.

But, he wasn't acting like that boy. He was acting like the performer he was on screen. He was coaxing and teasing her, easing her into spilling her guts and cumming for him the second he requested as much. It wasn't fair; he was too cute, making her feel so safe to let go and be whatever she wanted to be, but entirely too hot to let her hand a clear head.

When she didn't answer, the cam performer continued, "Y'said y'wanted more of this, right?" He emphasized his question with the hand on her waist sliding down until he was warming the curve once more, fingers denting the soft flesh.

With a flutter of her lashes, (Y/N) gave a quiet nod of her head.

Harry hummed at her nonverbal answer. He tipped his chin and pressed a small kiss to her lips. It was a distraction as he led both his hands to sit on her bottom. This time, he made a point of sliding them under the hem of her shorts, skin to skin.

"What did y'mean by inside, flower?"

(Y/N) bought herself time by pressing another lingering kiss to his lips. There was that bashfulness rearing its head once more. She would have to tap into his confidence if he wanted her to be blunt.

"You know," she murmured as if that were a real answer.

"Do I?" he prodded, smiling into their kiss, "Because I think it sounds like y'want me to play with your cute little ass. Is that right?"

Her chest expanded with a shuddering breath. "Uh-huh."

Buttoning his mouth against hers one more time, he shared a quick kiss with her before pulling away. His pupils were still dilated and warm, but something was decidedly softer when his gaze met hers.

"Is that why y'seem so nervous, right now?"

(Y/N) clammed up at his words. He wasn't supposed to be so observant.

"I'm not nervous," she argued, her hands falling to the planes of his chest.

"Yes, you are," he countered, just as sweet as he smiled up at her, "And that's okay. I jus' want to know where your heads at. I didn't know y'ever wanted something like this."

She shrugged, dropping her eyes to where her hands rested on his chest. She could feel the hard muscle underneath the soft fabric of his top. "I only want to try it with you."

"Yeah?" he said, sounding a little too cocky to be safe, "And why y'didn't y'tell me before?"

Before she could think much better of it, the adrenaline and endorphins in her system doing their job, (Y/N) fired back, "Why didn't you tell me?"

She watched as Harry's brows creased at her words. "What do you mean, love?"

Floundering over her words, (Y/N) knew she couldn't stop here. She had already started, there was no way of stopping in the middle of it all. "I saw your stream the other night," she blurted out, getting it out of the way and off of her chest, "The one where you talked about this stuff."

Realization dawned on him then. "I didn't know y'were listening to that one."

"I was going to comment or say something so you knew I was there," she explained, "But I had come in halfway through and you were already talking, and I've just never heard you talk about wanting that before. I was... surprised."

"Bad surprised or good surprised?"

"Good surprised," she admitted, peeking at him through her lashes, "But, a little bit bad surprised because I had to hear about it through a stream and not from you."

Adjusting his hold on her, Harry held her with an arm looped around her middle with his other hand still warming her jaw. Hugging her to his chest, she had no choice but to look up at him and meet his eyes. "I wasn't trying to keep anything from you, you know."

"I know," she reasoned, understanding that part of his job was that it was an outlet for some of the more vulnerable things he hadn't admitted aloud yet, "But it sounded like you were talking about me, and when we talked later you said you were thinking about me while you were streaming. If I hadn't been watching, though, I still wouldn't have known."

He took in her every word, listening to what she had to say before speaking. "I don't want to push you too far, that's all. I like what we have—I like making love to you,"—the phrase always brought a smile to his face when he said it, especially when (Y/N) grew shy—"and I didn't want it to be any different."

Pursing her lips, (Y/N) attempted to understand what he was getting at. "So, you don't actually want to? It was just a stream thing?"

"Oh, no," Harry stopped her, a huff of his laughter fanning across her skin, "I definitely want to, trust me. I want you to want it too, and not jus' because y'feel like it would make me happy."

"I feel like we do a lot of things because we know it makes each other happy, though," she started, maneuvering her arms until they were looped around his neck with her fingers edging into his hairline on the nape of his neck, "I don't think that's a bad thing as long as we're both comfortable, right?"

"You do watch scary movies with me," he smiled, drawing a small breath of laughter out of her lungs, "But this is a little different, don't you think? I don't want to do anything with your body that you're not one hundred percent excited for. 'M only happy if you are too."

Rolling her lips between her teeth, she leaned into his hand on her jaw. "I am excited, though—I want to do this. I just wish you had told me first."

"Me too," he smiled, "Promise I wasn't trying to hide anything from you, I was only trying not to scare you."

"I know," she murmured, turning her face until she pressed her lips into a small kiss against his palm, "I'm not scared—you already promised you'd be gentle."

His grin widened at her reference to his stream, surely remembering his own fantasy in detail now that she was offering it up. "I did, didn't I?"

"Mhm," she hummed, using that hold she had around his neck to draw him nearer, "You said a lot of things."

"And, you liked it."

"I did," she confirmed, the tip of her nose grazing his, "You don't make it sound scary or gross, or anything?"

"Yeah?" he laughed, tipping his chin until he could press a tiny peck to her lips, "How do I make it sound?"

"Really hot," she admitted, "I forgot everything I studied about as soon as I started listening to you."

Harry gave a disapproving hum, teasing her. Resting the pad of his thumb against the full of her lips, he kept her from kissing him again, leaving her to listen as he spoke. "We'll have to work on that again later then, won't we? Go to the library again for some motivation?"

The reminder of the time they had gone to the library and Harry helped her through that mental block with his hand between her legs was enough to get her squirming in his lap once more. He had to know exactly where her mind had gone when she saw his grin stretch his dimpled cheeks.

"But, I should probably take care of you now," he mused, finally slipping his thumb from her lips as he smeared a kiss across her pout. "Y'deserve it for being so patient and talking to me about what you want."

"I do," she absently agreed, melting into him. She was willing to take whatever he would give.

(Y/N) indulged in the pillow of his lips, parting her mouth and taking the taste of him across her tongue. It was easy to slip back into that place with him, where her thoughts were wisps and her desires were candles lit aflame. His cock was still heavy in his lap, right where her core was resting with spread thighs, his lips still swollen, and skin still warm.

"I love you," he murmured on a breath, breaking away though he didn't stray too far from her with his forehead resting on hers, "Let's go to bed, sweetheart."

She let out a dreamy okay, following after him once he had her settled on her feet, back towards his bedroom. They didn't bother to close the door behind them, in too much of a rush before Harry was roughly handling her to be tossed amongst the folds in his bedding.

A bright peal of laughter fell from (Y/N)'s lips at the act, her eyes creasing and cheeks split wide. Harry climbed his bed with a matching smile, hovering over her.

"So pretty, you know that," he crooned, dropping a kiss on the apple of her cheek before he began his own pathway across her skin. He followed the soft planes of her face, grazing her eyelids and the bridge of her nose. (Y/N) couldn't help the soft breaths of laughter that followed the more affection he piled on her.

"You're pretty," she answered through her smile, placing her hands on his cheeks to keep him from straying too far once he finally rested on her lips.

A sly smile on his mouth kept her from getting a real kiss from him. He was bubbling up with something, she was sure.

"I know," he teased, "You think 'm pretty enough to play with your cute butt, so."

"Don't say it like that," she whined though her complaint held no grit through her toothy smile. She made a halfhearted attempt at pushing him away, though Harry stayed right where he was above her.

"Am I wrong? I seem to remember a certain conversation we had just a minute ago."

She didn't bother to answer him, instead smushing her lips against his in a silencing kiss. It was a bit off center, not quite matching up with her nose smushed against his cheek, but that didn't matter much to either of them. Harry happily fell into the contact without a single complaint.

Soon enough the silly kiss had melted into something serious, warm and languid. He laid heavily between her legs, his cock straining against his sweats with her loose shorts doing little to cover herself. His chest was pressed against hers, heartbeats side by side with every breath marked by the extra push of his blocky muscles against her breasts.

By the time her breath was taken from her lungs, Harry pulled away first. He skimmed his kiss-swollen lips over her skin until he was hovering by her ear. "Y'really want to try it out tonight?"

It didn't take a second thought before she was nodding her head.

"We'll go slow, (Y/N)," he cemented, pulling away to match her eyes intensely, "Jus' tell me to stop if you change your mind."

"I will," she answered, knowing he wouldn't move on until he had that verbal confirmation from her,

He gave her a pleased smile before he dipped down and pressed another small kiss to her lips. "Flip over for me, sweetheart."

The flames in her stomach pitched into a bonfire at his command. That had been exactly what she was picturing. Harry gave her space to roll onto her tummy, helping her move until she was on her knees with legs spread and cheek pressed against his pillow.

"This alright?" he checked in, dragging his warm hands down the backs of her thighs.

She nodded with a pleasant smile on her mouth. "This is how I pictured it," she murmured.

Harry's touch solidified at her words, less glancing fingertips and more weight on his palms as he caressed her skin and felt every inch of the plush fullness. "You pictured it?

Her ribcage practically rattled against her heartbeat as he started pulling down her shorts and panties. He helped her navigate pulling them off of her bent legs and ankles with the way her mind was too preoccupied. Why didn't she just show up naked? It would have made this so much easier.

"Uh-huh," she breathed, answering his question, "I-I wasn't sure what you had in mind, but I hoped it was like this."

Harry hummed, bending down to press a kiss to the small of her back. He pushed the hem of her loose shirt up, revealing more and more of her skin though they were both too in a rush to take the time to completely undress her. Soon enough, Harry's shirt joined her shorts and underwear on the floor, his sweats and boxing being all that clothed him for the moment.

"I have lots of ideas, sweetheart," he murmured, starting a path of planted kisses on the hills of her spine. "We'll only get through a couple today, but if y'like it, we can try so much more."

The promise that there was more he wanted to show her, more times that she would be wrapped in his sheets, more of him that she would accept without a doubt, was enough to get her pussy fluttering.

Going down the line, Harry started kissing over the globes of her bottom, delicate sweeps of his lips over the sensitive skin. She couldn't help the goosebumps that touched her skin, unfamiliar with the feeling of anything other than his strong hands skimming this part of her.

"Gonna eat you out first, okay, flower?" he crooned, his words fanning out across her skin, "We'll start there, and we'll see how you feel."

"Okay, Harry," she sighed, trusting him from where she lay with her cheek squished into the pillow and eyes fluttering to a close. The only thing she didn't love about this position: she couldn't see him.

A beat later, she could feel the warmth of his breath fan across her core. She tensed some at the surprise, feeling her insides squeeze knowing that he was that close. She only had enough time to register that exhale before the flat of his tongue was licking through her wetness. Her own breath was sucked out of her lungs at the first touch against her clit, her folds being spread wide open around the width of his tongue.

Sagging towards the bed, she arched her back that much more for him, presenting any and everything for him. Harry wrapped his hands around her thighs, palms warming the tops while his fingers wrapped around to the side insides and dented the delicate skin. His grip was steadying as he pointed the tip of his tongue and explored her opening, her walls pulsing.

An all too smug breath of laughter fell from his lips when he pulled away. "Feeling good, sweetheart? Tell me."

"So good, H," she bubbled immediately, no other thoughts attempting to take over at the moment.

"Who?" he pressed, his hands on her thighs tightening though he didn't dip back down to her pussy like she wanted.

"So good, daddy," she corrected, all but keening into him, hoping she gave the right answer and would feel more of him sliding through her folds and tasting her wetness.

"That's better, sweetheart," he praised her.

With that, Harry's tongue was once more slipping through her wetness. He smeared his tongue across her core, taking in everything she had to offer while leaving a mess behind, comprised of both her slick and his saliva. Wet sounds filtered through his bedroom, along with the heady breathing coming from her and the contented noises coming from Harry.

By the time (Y/N) had her slick covering her thighs, enough wetness to make her worry she was going to start dripping over his bed (though, seeing as how he enjoyed making her squirt, she doubted he would have minded), Harry began focusing his tongue over her pulsing entrance. More and more slick wept from her hole as he pointed the tip and slipped inside amongst her tight walls. She shuddered at the feeling, her breathing hitching as she attempted to bring in a deep breath.

Before she could even register that she was missing contact on her clit, his fingertips were pressing against the bud. Tight circles were drawn around the top of her slit, her legs beginning to shake now that there was so much moire to focus on but less room in her brain to spare. He kept his other hand steady on her thigh, keeping her from falling while simultaneously being her grounding anchor.

Her wetness dipped down his fingers, tainting his palm with a thin glimmer. Harry pulled away for a heartbeat, his breathing heavy. She could imagine the shine on his chin and nose, the flush to his cheeks, and the way he would be staring at her with intensity in his eyes. She could feel that heated gaze as his fingers trailed through her messy slit.

When he reached her hole, he lingered for only a second before he was skipping upwards. Though (Y/N) knew this was coming, she still felt her heart skip a beat, her breathing shatter as she waited with bated breath.

He brought his slick fingers to her second entrance. In an instant, (Y/N) felt herself tense up, the foreign feeling shocking her.

"'S alright, flower," Harry crooned to her, his words fanning across the rounded globes of her ass, "Jus' relax. 'S only me, and 'm going to be gentle, remember?"

"I remember, I remember," she muttered in a rambling blurt. Honestly, if she had been asked what exactly she was remembering at that moment, she wouldn't have been able to give a straight answer.

Working her through that initial shock, Harry circled his slick fingers around the puckered skin, delving his tongue back into her pussy to give her something familiarly fantastic to cling to. Her legs took as she took in the duo of feelings, her clit being laved over by his tongue with a part of her she never thought could be stimulated now pulling the breath from her lungs.

"Still feeling good, love?" he asked, drawing away for just long enough to ask before he was licking through her folds once more.

It didn't take a second thought before she was breathing out, "Uh-huh, uh-huh."

There was nothing else for her to say—especially if she wanted to sound coherent. Though it was still odd, the feeling of his wandering fingers, every pass of his fingertips over the tight opening had a pulse ringing through her insides. The flames in her stomach were tight and warm, coiling into a burn.

"I knew you'd like it, sweetheart," he mumbled against her pussy, "Told you I'd be gentle. Jus' wanna open you up a little for me to fit a finger in, is that okay?"

(Y/N) felt her eyes squeeze to a shut, creases knitting her brows together. "It's okay," she breathlessly answered, half-parroting his words back to him as that was all she could process in the moment.

A groan rumbled through Harry's chest, the sound vibrating over her core. "You want that? Want me to finger your tight little ass, love?"

Until Harry, those words would have turned her off, had her curling in on herself and ending whatever encounter had gone south, but hearing the vulgar request in his dulcet tone, rounded with lust, had both her entrances pulsing around nothing.

"Tell me you want it, sweetheart."

"I want it, daddy," she breathed out, a short whine cutting her off when he thumbed at her slick rim, trying to spread her open just like he said, "Please."

"You're doing so good, my love," he murmured, dropping a kiss to the sensitive crease just between her thigh and the slick spread of her core. "'M going to give you everything y'want. I jus' need you to relax."

Bringing her bottom lip between her teeth, (Y/N) sagged towards the mattress. She thought she had been relaxed, easing into everything and welcoming his touch. "I-I'm trying," she whined, "I thought I was doing good."

"You are, flower, I promise," he soothed her, another kiss to the slick skin, "Y'might be thinking about it too much, that's all. Y'need a distraction, don't you?"

(Y/N) didn't want to be distracted from a single touch he gave her, if she was being honest. She wanted to feel everything, know where his hands were, and find what she liked most. But, she supposed she might be too aware of every graze of his fingers, her body instinctively tensing and moving.

"I think you do, sweetheart," Harry continued when he didn't get a response.

The bed shifted behind her then, his hand stilling on her backside before she could feel his hips pressing against her ass. His thighs were lined up against her own with his hard cock sliding through the wetness of her folds.

A gasp fell from her lips, the tip of his heavy prick nudging her clit. She felt her insides pulse, including the already tight hole he was trying to work open. She keened back against him, slicking his shaft and the trimmed patch of hair at the base.

Smug laughter sounded behind her, Harry sounding much too pleased with himself and the reaction he could garner from her.

"Stay still for me, love," he instructed her, "'M gonna help you."

The steadying hand he had placed on her hip disappeared then, instead fisting at his cock before he was nudging the head into her entrance. Slick with both his saliva and every weep of her wetness, he slid in with no problems, a wet slap sounding once he bottomed out. (Y/N) reveled in the familiar feeling of fullness, completely spread wide open for his cock to push through her tight walls. She could feel the ridge of his head, the length of his veins, the slight curve that aimed him perfectly at the soft spot on her walls.

She would never be used to the depth he reached in her, remembering the way he had teased such a thing on a stream before they even knew one another. She had figured it was nothing more than fantasy talk back then, something to get his viewers going as well as feed into something Harry could cum to. Now, she knew that was all very much the truth, feeling the stretch in her own body as if he were nudging as deep as her stomach.

"Better, sweetheart?" he muttered, rearing his hips back before thrusting forward. He kept her on balance with his hand returning to her hip. Slick noises erupted around his cock as he sunk in, his hips slapping against her thighs.

The pads of his fingers circled her back entrance through his distraction, though her attention had trouble splitting between his heavy cock and the foreign touch. She could feel the way he did his best to gently spread her open, easing her into being able to take one of his thick fingers.

"B-Better, daddy," she cried, reaching blindly for this hand on her hip. She needed something gentle and familiar, she decided.

Harry welcomed her innocent touch, lacing their fingers together over the full of her hip together though her hold was decidedly looser given the monumental distractions she was going through.

"Good," he huffed, matching that of a particularly hard thrust he gave.

In that same moment, (Y/N) could feel the tip of one of his fingers slide inside her untouched opening. She gasped, mouth dropping open into a gape.

It was more startling than anything, the small intrusion causing her body to tense up.

"No, don't do that, sweetheart," Harry gently scolded her, keeping the pacing of his hips as he fucked her pussy, "Stay relaxed for me. You're doing so good, no need to be scared."

She wanted to listen to him, she really did, but she didn't know how to relax. All she could manage was closing her eyes, flexing her fingers around his own, and focusing on the familiar parts of his touch. She tried to right her breathing, fix the uneven shuddering and replace it with something steady and consistent.

"That's so much better, sweetheart," he cooed, dropping down to press a kiss to her shoulder, "Keep going, love. 'S jus' me."

While she didn't feel as if she were relaxing any considering how tightly wound her tummy was and the pulsing of her walls, she was happy to hear that she was easing up for him. Her efforts increased tenfold when that same slick finger pushed deeper inside of her, the knuckle of his digit catching before he could go further.

(Y/N) couldn't have prepared for how full she felt with his cock running through her walls and the small intrusion of his finger in her backside. The pace of her breathing she had tried to curate, the even intakes and exhales, was thrown out the window the second she allowed herself to take in the full breadth of that feeling.

She could feel him everywhere: the slap of his thighs against the back of her own, his hand in hers, his cock spreading her open, and his finger venturing into her ass for the first time.

There was no room in her head for anything but him; no wispy thoughts or anything that could form coherent words. She was drifting through his bedsheets as he did as he pleased with her.

With her attention only on him and he he felt, she could feel the twitch of his cock through her walls, everything stretched so tight around him. He barely stroked his finger through her back entrance, pulling it out the smallest amount before pushing back through. He was curating two opposing rhythms, leaving a part of him inside her at all times.

The thought had a broken moan leaving her lips.

"Fuck, you're so hot, baby," Harry muttered, the burn of his gaze trapped on her ass, "Gonna make me cum just from seeing my finger in your ass."

"I-I—" she floundered, unsure of where her mind was as well as the moisture in her throat, "I-I want—daddy."

A particularly harsh thrust was delivered, the bones of his hips pressing hard into her thighs. Another tiny bit of his finger sunk into her backside, enough to have (Y/N)'s back arching.

"What do you want from daddy, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice strained and thin. His composure was waning.

What did she want from him? What else could he give her that she wasn't already reveling in?

"C'mon, love," he coaxed, though his voice was decidedly harsher than she'd heard it before, "Don't go dumb on me yet. I still wanna hear my smart girl talk to me."

If he thought that would help clear her mind, he was sorely mistaken when she felt another gush of her wetness seep around his cock, her clit throbbing, and walls pulsing around everything inside. He could barely move his finger though the fact that she was aware it was inside was just as effective as feeling him slide through her virgin opening.

"Oh," he sighed, bottoming out with hard and fast thrusts against her, "You liked that, my love? I'll have to remember that, won't I?"

"Uh-huh, uh-huh." (Y/N) nodded her head with only half of her attention on what he was saying.

He pulsed his hand around her own, keeping her steady and with him. "We'll have to save that for next time though, sweetheart. I think you're about to cum with daddy, right?"

That was what she had wanted. The last thing he could give her was his release landing across the backs of her thighs. She could only blindly nod against the pillow, her hair sure to be a mess by the time she would actually start to care about anything other than her lust-filled body.

"I can't last much longer, love," Harry started, his words emphasized with the way he had to grit them out, "But, I need you to cum first. Wanna see you cum with your pussy and ass filled with me. Make me proud, sweetheart."

For (Y/N), time stopped right there. All that she was aware of was the man at her back and the perfect ribbon in her tummy that had unraveled in the most spectacular of fashion. Her mouth dropped open to a silent gape, nothing coming out given the fact she couldn't take any air in. Her head was cloudy and warm, matching the rest of her body. Points of clarity came in the form of Harry's hand on her hip, the tap of his balls against her clit, and the sharp unfamiliarity of the stretch of her second entrance.

That was the only reason she was aware of the fact he had pulled out. She mourned the loss of him inside her—in both places—until she felt him cum against her pussy, warm ropes sticking to her skin. The mess between her legs was now a perfect miss of the both of them, dripping down the inside of her thighs.

Aftershocks came in the form of lingering spurts from Harry, and (Y/N)'s walls pulsing around nothing. She couldn't be sure when she returned to the land of the living, but when the details of Harry's room came back into focus, she swore her vision was sharper. There was a joke about good sex there, something about Harry being her cure-all, but there was no way she could even attempt a tease at the moment.

She knew Harry was with her once more when he dropped down to press a set of kisses on the small of her back. His hands were on her hips, one still holding tightly to her own, while the other kept her steady as she began to lose her balance and sink towards his bed.

"You with me, (Y/N)?" he murmured against her skin, his voice gruff.

Flexing her fingers in his as a response, (Y/N) gave a small nod. "I'm here."

"Oh, love," he sighed, draping himself over her back, his lips pressing to the line of his jaw and soft of her cheek, "You did so good, I love you so much. Did that feel alright? I didn't hurt you right?"

"No, no, I felt really good," she breathed, a soft chord of laughter swaying out amongst her words, "I think I almost blacked out."

"Oh?" he sounded, his own peals of laughter following right after, "In a good way, right?"

Letting go of his hand, (Y/N) brought it up to pat at his cheek. "In a good way."

"Good," he crooned, pressing a gentle kiss to the palm of her hand before he started extracting himself from her. "I'm gonna get some things to clean us up, 'kay? Stay right here."

He must think he's so funny, she thought, but she didn't have it in her to play his back and forth at the moment. He could win this round.

By the time Harry returned with wet cloths and a pair of his shorts for her to borrow, all of the slick release coating her core and the inside of her thighs had cooled. It was an uncomfortable feeling that he took his time wiping away. He eased up around her sensitive spots, apologizing with kisses to the backs of her thighs and promises to be gentle.

"Did y'really like it, (Y/N)? Everything we did?" Harry asked after a moment, wiping down the insides of her thighs.

She bit at the full of her bottom lip, unsure of how to articulate what she had experienced. "It felt weird," she started, unable to find any other word to describe how she felt, "But, I liked it—a lot. I think it helped since it was you, and I love you, but it was... good."

"Jus' good? I thought y'said you almost blacked out?"

Blindly swatting behind her, she landed her hand in the soft swirls of his hair. She playfully pulled at the strands. "I'm too tired to play right now, stop," she laughed.

Her reprimanding hold of his hair turned into gentle carding through the curls as he took care of her. A beat passed, Harry finishing cleaning her up before he helped her into her borrowed shorts. Collapsing onto his bed, her back bouncing over the springs, she figured laundry, including the clothes on the floor, would have to wait for now.

Hovering above her, Harry looked to her with his clear green eyes—the same ones she had seen that first time in her physics class after he had taken a leap and took the seat beside her. She would be eternally grateful he had the confidence to do as much, otherwise she would have never learned just how many greens were in his irises.

"Really," he started out, voice gentle and quiet like a secret, "'M really happy y'felt good. It obviously worked very well on me too."

(Y/N)'s lips turned into an amused smile as she reached up and pushed back the flop of curls covering his forehead. "See, this is why you tell me things like this first—not the stream."

It was a lighthearted tease that had his mouth splitting into a smile, bunny teeth and dimples on display. He dropped his head to press an innocent kiss to the tip of her nose, though it wasn't quite as effective through his smile.

"I've definitely learned my lesson, flower," he murmured.

(Y/N) could only tip her chin and press her lips to his.

—————

this is.....very different SHFUSHFSUH thank u sm for reading, thank you to whoever requested, sorry for any mistakes and if theres any other ideas anyone else wants to see please send them in!

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